#And it's already dark Skip to an ending Are you pretending? Yes you do

[thelaughingmagician]

forever more. can i delete it?

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

There's a snake in my pants - K.MG

🤠Who; Kim Mingyu (Seventeen) x gender-neutral reader 🤠What; Crack/humour. Some fluff. Established relationship. Himbo Mingyu! [I love himbo Gyu] 🤠Word count; 2.3k 🤠Warnings; Profanity. Critter mentions (literally the word critter plus snake but uhhh not the animal). Misuse of a lasso, bad Mingyu, but it's funny dw. And no one gets hurt. Mentions of pervert/voyeur Wonwoo but it's not plot relevant. Very suggestive in general but no smut or actual sexual actions. Reader wears lingerie.

Although there isn't any smut, this is definitely an 18+ fic so Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

Summary; Your boyfriend wants to try a new sexy roleplay idea, it doesn't go well.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N- This goes out to @ourdawnishotterthanourday , I hope you enjoy reading this as if you don't already know exactly what's going to happen anyway from my screaming about the himbo cowboy collective (omg series idea???) Thank you for encouraging me to live my best crack life, sweetheart 💖 And big thank you to @wonuvs for helping me so much with the header, I know it must've been hard to look at shirtless Mingyu so much 💖

Approximately twenty minutes ago, your lovable idiot of a boyfriend told you to go and wait on your bed for him, gave you a wink then skipped off with an excited giggle. Which, cute, yes, but also very very worrying.

As much as you adore Mingyu, you are very aware that he has some rather questionable ideas in general, what with him being what you would call a Class A Himbo; and unfortunately, he has brought those questionable ideas into the bedroom on more than one occasion. There is now a strict rule about no balloons in the bedroom and likely not for the reason you think.

So although you do go to your shared room and get dressed down in a lingerie set you know that he likes, you truly can't say that you exactly have high hopes for whatever your boyfriend has planned.

When the door creaks open, you're confused because all you see is Mingyu's hand appearing from one side to nudge the door open as wide as it can go. It takes a few pushes of his fingers before the door does actually swing open and then his arm darts back. A second later, Mingyu gallops into view and you don't know if you want to laugh or mentally log out more.

Because gallop isn't even an inaccurate description of the way he enters. Like a child pretending to play cowboys with one of those long wooden poles with the plush horse's heads set on one end with attached reigns. You can't tell if the fact he has one of those children's toy horses makes it worse or not. You can't even admire the way his thick thighs, showcased by just the tiny pair of boxer briefs he's wearing, are pressed tight around either side of the thick wooden pole to keep it upright with both of his hands barely fitting on the tiny little loop of faux-leather that makes up the reigns.

All Mingyu is wearing are those tiny little dark boxers that don't even fully cover his asscheeks, a cowboy hat and cowboy boots. Oh, and there's some thin dark rope looped diagonally over his bare chest. That can't be good.

"Howdy partner." Mingyu starts, entirely serious in his roleplay and doing his best to put on the 'cowboy voice' you know that he and his friends have been practising together to be 'real cowboys'.

Even though you're still trying to figure out exactly how you feel about this particular roleplay choice of your boyfriend, you can't help but at least humour him. He's far too cute and sweet in general to not try, at the very least, to play along. "Howdy, cowboy," You reply, a little dumbstruck yet Mingyu lights up brightly all the same.

He wiggles slightly in excitement, forgetting himself a little in his joy, then remembers he's supposed to be a 'sexy, serious cowboy-man' and schools his expression. He doesn't even notice the amused twitch of your lips at his slip. "I'm new to town and I hear you're the person to come to when there's trouble."

"Oh, there's trouble, is there?" You hum and shuffle to sit up against the headboard. You're internally very relieved when he removes the horse and props it against the wall. It's much easier to take him seriously when he's standing there in all his ridiculously handsome glory.

"Yes, ma'am." Oh, you could get used to him saying those words in that voice, pitched slightly lower than normal and a little rough. Maybe their 'cowboy meetings' have been more successful than you've realised. Because Mingyu, nor his friends, have improved very much in the actual horse riding aspect of being a modern-day cowboy. But at least the voice is getting good.

"Sounds serious."

"It is." He steps a little closer, hands on his hips and you can't tell if it's intentional or not but it draws your eyes to his crotch in those tiny boxers leaving nothing to the imagination. Not that you need to imagine what he's packing underneath when he's always so willing to let you see, and feel, and taste. "Do you think you can help a cowboy out, ma'am?"

"Keep calling me ma'am and it sounds pretty likely." You mutter and lift your gaze back up to his face. He's smirking at you now, well aware of how much you love his body. "Tell me, what's the issue, cowboy?"

"Well, you see, it involves a certain critter," You try not to giggle at him using the term critter, you can't help it when all you can think of is the endearing way he and his friends will call any living animal or insect critter; often in a loud screech when a bug flies too close to them.

"Ooh, I see. You have a critter problem."

"That I do, ma'am."

"And a big strong cowboy like you can't handle a single critter?"

"I'm more skilled with the bigger critters."

"So this critter is small?" You wonder how many times the two of you will use the term critter, it really does not help set the mood, just amuses you honestly. This situation has already devolved in your mind and Mingyu hasn't even noticed, he's still very serious about his big-boy cowboy role-play.

"Yes," His face drops. "Wait, no! It's not." He pouts a little, barely a little protrusion of his bottom lip.

"So it's not big enough for you to handle yourself, but it's not small?" He nods and slips back into character. "How big is it exactly?"

"Big enough." You think you understand what he's trying to do here. But you're willing to let it play out at least.

"Okay, give it to me."

"Give it to you?" His eyes round out a little with the excitement those words bring him.

"I mean, tell me what it is." You correct and try not to giggle at the disappointed little oh he lets out, understanding the miscommunication there.

Though, once again, he gets right back into character and locks his serious, sultry gaze on you as the tips of his thumbs hook into the waistband of his boxers without removing his hands from his hips. "There's a snake in my pants." Yup, that's about exactly where you thought he was going with this.

"I can't believe you've defiled my childhood like that, Mingyu." You deadpan, unimpressed. His arms drop along with his expression.

"What? What did I do wrong? It's just a line!" He whines. "Wonwoo taught it to me!"

"Wonwoo?" You sigh. "Baby, what have I told you about listening to Wonwoo where sex is involved?"

"That he's wrong that sitting in the tree outside our window with binoculars isn't a natural biology lesson no matter if he takes notes." He replies in very much the tone of a man who has had those very words drilled into him many times.

"I…well yes, that is a very good one, thank you for remembering." Mingyu perks up a little at your approving response. "But that's not what I meant."

"Uhm," He thinks hard. "That he's wrong that you have to bark during doggy style." That particular memory sends shivers down your spine, you had hoped to forget it.

"Also very correct and please don't bring that up again."

"I'm sorry, I really thought he knew what he was talking about!" Mingyu defends quickly. "He's so smart, baby!"

"Uh," You don't know how to respond. Wonwoo is not smart, he may look scholarly with his glasses and cardigans when he's lounging around, but he is, like your boyfriend, just another pretty himbo. All four of the group are and you still can't tell who's the worst of them. Still, you adore the four and would never change a thing about any of them, even if their dumbassery has caused a lot of trouble since they moved to town. So you move on. "The point is, Gyu, you shouldn't listen to Wonwoo's sex advice, ever. Remember that?"

"Oh, right, yeah, you've said that before." He nods slowly in understanding, looking kind of dejectedly down at the bedframe. He looks like a scolded puppy, it pulls your heartstrings enough to want to try and salvage the situation.

"Was this whole roleplay Wonwoo's idea?" You wonder. Mingyu looks up at you and shakes his head, lips pouted cutely at you and eyes big. "Yours?"

"Yeah. And Seungcheol's. You've never told me not to take sex advice from him!"

Okay, you have to admit, Seungcheol is probably the only one from Mingyu's three besties that you think would give pretty decent sex advice, you know he at least has active ongoing experience with a friend of your own and they've always sung his praises. Wonwoo is…well nobody knows for sure if Wonwoo has ever actually had sex. He kind of gives off horny virgin energy, honestly whenever sexual conversations come up but he's always been pretty smooth when flirting so it could go either way. And the fourth of their group is precious, naive Seokmin; you know he has experience himself but he's a very sweet guy and always seems scandalised when anything out of vanilla is mentioned.

"Okay, then I'm willing to pick this back up if you really want to try it, sweetheart."

"I do!" Mingyu beams and suddenly looks as if you've offered him the world on a silver platter, drizzled in sweet syrup ready for him to slurp up. Oh, does that remind you of another one of his slightly less questionable bedroom surprises. But that's an entirely different story. "Okay, okay," Mingyu takes a few breaths to calm his visible joy, it's so cute watching him bring his hands up as he inhales deeply then turn and push them palms downwards to the floor as he exhales.

He may have some very odd ideas, but man, did you score an adorable sweetheart of a boyfriend who you hope will never change and always remain this way. You've not even been together that long, just a handful of months really, but you're pretty sure he's it for you. Your forever. The one you want to spend the rest of your life with.

When he's collected himself, he turns back to you and decides to entirely bypass the whole snake in his pants section, wisely so you think, and starts to remove the ropes from around his torso. He only knocks his hat off twice, though you barely notice because now all you can think about is the fact that it seems like you won't be the one to have to bring up bondage.

While you're wondering if your big beefy boyfriend is about to hogtie you and have his way with you, Mingyu gathers the long rope in his right hand and then takes one end into his left. It's then that you notice the very distinct large loop in one end.

Horror spreads through your body as you realise that Kim Mingyu has brought a fucking lasso into the bedroom. "Gyu-" You start in warning yet he's already pulling his arm back and launching the rope in your general direction. You yelp automatically, expecting to get hit in the face, yet it doesn't touch you. There's a loud crash on your right so you look over only to find that the only remaining one of the pair of bedside lamps is now in pieces on the hardwood flooring, the loop of Mingyu's lasso caught around the shade. It's like the balloon incident all over again. And now you have no bedside lamps, thanks to Kim Mingyu.

There's pure silence for a tense few seconds as you both stare dumbly at the mess on the floor.

Mingyu's whisper breaks the silence "Fuck." And then you burst into howling laughter. "Babe!" He whines but you can't stop, toppling over onto your side on the bed with the power of your laughs.

The whole situation has been a mess from start to finish. It's a miracle you lasted this long without some kind of breakdown. You're just glad it's the laughing kind and not the mental kind.

It takes a minute of poutily grumbling about working him hard on the scenario, learning how to tie a lasso knot and modelling endless hats and boots for his friends so they can help him pick the right ones before the humour of it all actually hits Mingyu.

It starts with a little giggle and then he looks between you and the broken lamp a few times and has to flop across the bed as he laughs along with you, uncaring that his hat falls off.

Slowly, both of you stop laughing and calm enough to look at each other. You're still grinning like fools and there are tear tracks down your cheeks from it, but you're happy. He's happy. That's all that matters.

Mingyu shuffles over to you in a manner that makes giggles bubble out of your throat until he's on his side close enough to lean in and press a soft kiss to your lips. "I love you," He informs gently when he pulls back to look adoringly into your eyes. Your expression softens and quickly melts into the mirror of his own as you brush your fingertips over his cheek.

"I love you too." You reply, smiling as he lays his hand over the back of yours to hold it in place as he turns his head to kiss your palm, planting his love right there where you can keep it safe for as long as you want to. And then he looks back at you and holds your palm to his cheek. "Just no more lassos in the bedroom,"

Mingyu laughs and nods in agreement. "No more lassos in the bedroom."

"House in general. Indoors. No lassos indoors."

"Okay, baby," He giggles and kisses you once more sweetly before getting up and picking his hat up off the mattress to plop on your head when you sit up. You adjust it so that you can watch as he crouches down beside the broken lamp to begin cleaning up the mess you made. And as you watch him, there's only one thought on your mind.

Yeah, he really is it for you.

A/N- Believe it or not, the original idea that caused this one has a much higher crack content and I may have to write that too. This story can be considered a spin-off of that, or one in the collection of the same universe focused on the 4 himbos and their adventures.

[cottonlemonade]

How You Met

word count: 1062 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Atsumu x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff

warnings: spoilers, swearing once, cause Atsumu, mentions of academic pressure/anxiety

You sighed when you caught a glimpse of the unyielding gray sky out the library window. Lunch at your favorite café had lifted your spirits a little but did nothing to the overall feeling of anxiety that always came and went throughout the semester.

You felt around in your bag to make sure you packed an umbrella and tried not to think too much about the things you would rather be doing right now than sitting here and revising your notes. Listless and your head filled with melancholy, you stayed at the library for another hour, mostly on your phone, unable to concentrate on the neatly written cue cards, before finally throwing in the towel and packing up to leave.

When you stepped outside the air felt heavy but at least there was no rain yet.

You texted your friends that you had given up on academics for the day and were on your way back home, trying not to sound too miserable and eventually reached the bus stop, joining the many other commuters, all chatting or quietly glued to their phones. Finding a spot towards the end of the line you stood next to a tall guy, dressed in all black, a mask and cap covering his face and hair. After living in Tokyo for quite some time you had grown accustomed to people like him, those who so clearly didn’t want to be recognized or just wanted to pretend to be someone important or mysterious or all of the above.

Deep in thought about the possibility of dropping by your friend’s place to cuddle her dog for a while to cheer you up, you didn’t notice the wall of rain coming your way at first.

You ducked your head, hectically rummaging around for the umbrella. When you wanted to open it, however, the top just popped off, flying uselessly off the handle onto the road where a passing van swiftly dragged it along.

For a second or so you just stood there, handle in hand, watching the umbrella top disappear in traffic, not even slightly slowing down the cars.

Your mood turned from surprised to sour and you raised your hands to at least protect yourself a little, even though you were already drenched by the thick splattering drops and spray from the cars.

And just as you were contemplating that you might as well start to cry now, unnoticed in the downpour, the rain suddenly stopped, or at least for a confusing second you thought it did. The masked guy next to you had stepped to the side so that his umbrella was covering you now as well.

You gaped at him.

"Thank you.", you said, grateful, but not quite able to keep your voice steady.

He gave you a puzzled look upon the voice crack and even through the tumult of the cars whooshing past and the rain hammering onto the roof of the bus stop and his umbrella, you could hear him smirk.

"No problem.", he replied, somehow managing to sound indifferent, self satisfied and curious all at once.

He was quite a bit taller than you and a few blond strands protruded from his cap over the otherwise dark undercut.

And then, as he felt you staring, he leaned back a bit to expose a giant poster ad running on the side of the bus stop, showing a glorified action shot of a young man with a blond undercut, hitting a volleyball. In bold letters it read Black Jackals Miya Atsumu. You frowned at first, then understood and offered a politely impressed smile which he apparently took as you being too stunned to speak in his presence. He gave a nonchalant shrug as if to say “Yes, indeed it is I.”

You were sure your friend had told you about him. The name looked familiar. And judging by the poster he was just as handsome as she described. Didn’t she say he was one of the best setters in all of Japan or something?

“Hey, uhm, this is gonna sound weird, but I have a friend who is a fan of yours - I think.”

“Friend, huh?”, Atsumu looked you up and down, his mask hiding the grin he wore as he appreciated how your wet clothes clung to your plump figure.

“Yes, a friend. Would you mind giving me an autograph for her?”

He nodded and pulled a pen from his pocket, patiently waiting for you to retrieve a notebook from your backpack. You flipped to a free page and held it out to him.

“What’s yer “friend’s” name?”, he asked.

You began spelling the characters. He paused, frowning. “That’s a Japanese name.”

You nodded. “It is.”

“But ya don’t… look… Japanese.”, he said, confused.

Now it was your turn to knit your brow. “I… don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“Wait, this ain’t for ya?”

“No? It’s for my friend.”, you assured him with a quite adorable little chuckle and he felt heat rising in his cheeks.

Oh.

“Oh! Right… Uhm.” Atsumu looked down at his phone number and the (in his opinion) clever pick up line he had begun to write underneath.

Clearing his throat he flipped to a new page and dedicated a signature to your friend, then turned back to the page he started on. Eh, he might as well. “Ya should come to our next match. I’ll dedicate a serve to ya, if ya do.”

You looked like you had no idea what that meant but, wait. Did you… did you blush? Shit, did that actually work?! He quickly finished his first signature and handed the book back to you. A bus pulled up.

“Hope to see ya around.”, he said cooly and gave you an encouraging nod to get on, which, in a daze, you did, still holding on to the handle of the broken umbrella.

Mercifully, you found a seat by the window, directly above him, only able to see the top of his umbrella now. He lifted the brim.

For a moment he looked at you, weighing, considering.

Then he brought his hand to his mask and pulled it down just low enough so you could see the cocky smirk that accompanied a wink.

As the bus pulled out of the station and merged into traffic you realized that it was going the wrong way.

part 2

[babsharrison]

Before Sunrise - Scott Favor AU

Pairing | Scott Favor x Fem! Reader

Summary | While traveling to Vienna, you find yourself drawn to a stranger on the train. A brief conversation turns into an unexpected proposal for adventure, leaving you with a choice that could change everything.

Word Count | 1.6k

A/N | Got inspired and decided to write a fic with Scott Favor in an AU based on Before Sunrise. In this one, he’s just a rich boy with rich problems, living his best life (he's still cute 😈). Might have more parts because I loved writing this.

The train continued its smooth journey toward Vienna, with the sun casting long shadows through the windows. Sitting in your seat, you were immersed in a book, letting the words transport you somewhere far away from the movement of the carriage and the noise around you. Your book was an escape, but today, something pulled you out of those pages. Every now and then, you would glance up, sensing a curiosity lingering in the air. And then, your eyes landed on him.

He was a few rows away, but it was impossible not to notice him. His dark, straight hair fell slightly over his eyes, which sparkled with a mix of curiosity and mystery. The black leather jacket, pristine and clearly expensive, paired with faded jeans, created an interesting image—a deliberate attempt to look casual, but with something far more refined underneath. He seemed as comfortable as he was out of place on that train, like someone who didn’t belong to any specific destination.

For a moment, your eyes met. You returned to your book, pretending to be engrossed, but you felt your heart skip a beat. He looked away, but not out of shyness—there was something about him, a confidence that seemed effortless, a charm that was hard to ignore. You wondered what he was doing there and why it suddenly felt like he might be about to walk in your direction.

When you looked again, he was already on his feet, casually strolling down the aisle, his steps light and full of a certain charisma. He stopped beside you, his brown eyes locked on you with a mischievous glint. He didn’t seem intimidated by your presence; rather, he seemed to find it amusing.

“Hi,” he said, with a smile that seemed to carry a secret you hadn’t yet discovered. “Are you heading to Vienna too?”

You nodded, slowly closing your book, curious about him and surprised by his directness, but not uncomfortable. There was something about him that made conversation easy.

“Yes,” you replied with a slight smile, trying to seem casual. “And you?”

“Oh, Vienna, Paris, Tokyo… who knows,” he laughed, a carefree laugh, sitting beside you as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I’m on a little adventure.”

He was playful with his words, but his eyes hinted at a depth beyond the façade of the carefree boy. He had that kind of charm that made you want to know more, without him even trying. There was an extroverted energy about him, something irresistibly captivating, like he was always in the spotlight, even when he didn’t want to be.

“An adventure? That sounds interesting,” you responded, now more at ease, the book forgotten beside you. “And what brought you on this adventure, exactly?”

He shrugged, pretending to think seriously for a second. “Well, either I stay home and let my family dress me up in suits and ties to handle business… or I hop on a train to anywhere and see where I end up.” He shot you a playful look. “I guess you can figure out which one I picked.”

You laughed with him. There was something liberating about the way he spoke, like he was completely carefree, but at the same time, you could sense a hidden weight behind his words.

“Family business?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him. “Sounds like it should be a good thing.”

“Oh, definitely,” he replied with an exaggerated smile. “Money, power, endless meetings… who wouldn’t want that? But you know, sometimes, when people give you everything, they also expect everything from you.” He paused, his eyes now softer. “I guess, deep down, I just wanted a little freedom before I commit to something I’m not even sure I want.”

The train swayed gently, and the silence between you two felt comfortable, filled with a growing connection. Scott looked out the window for a second before turning back to you, his expression light again.

“But enough about me,” he said, leaning in slightly, his eyes shining with genuine curiosity. “What about you? You seem like the type who has a plan, with that book and all.” He gestured toward the book beside you, his lips curving into a charming smile.

You shrugged, a little surprised by the quick change in topic but finding it amusing how he was so openly interested.

“I like reading… and maybe I have plans, but nothing as bold as dropping everything and hopping on a train to nowhere.” You smiled, feeling more comfortable with him than you expected.

“Ah, so you’re the mysterious type,” he replied, a playful glint in his eyes. “Careful, I might end up convincing you to live a little adventure before we reach Vienna.”

There was something captivating about the way he spoke, a lightness and natural charm that made you want to laugh along, even in the simplest conversations. He seemed to play with his words as if he knew exactly what to say to keep the mood light, yet at the same time, there was a sense that, at any moment, he could surprise you with unexpected depth.

The train continued its steady course, the scenery slowly changing as the sunlight dipped behind the large clouds. Inside, the conversation between you and Scott flowed, light and easy but sprinkled with occasional moments of depth. It was almost impossible to tell how much time had passed—his words had a way of holding your attention, as if each second beside him was part of a larger, more intriguing story.

“So,” he began after a pause, his eyes fixed on the horizon through the window. “Have you been to Vienna before?”

“No, never,” you replied, turning your gaze outside, feeling a growing curiosity about what the city might offer. “And you?”

Scott flashed an enigmatic smile, as if his thoughts were already far beyond Vienna. “I’ve been a few times… But you know,” he paused dramatically, leaning slightly closer, “the real adventure never happens in places you’ve already been.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigue taking hold. “And where exactly do you think it happens?”

“Adventure,” he repeated the word with a sparkle in his eyes, as if proposing something out of the ordinary. “What do you think about getting off the train at the next stop? Not in Vienna, but… wherever it stops.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The idea was insane—and that’s exactly what made it irresistible. “Getting off the train? Just like that?”

“Exactly.” Scott laughed, that carefree laugh that was already beginning to win you over. “Aren’t you even a little curious? Sometimes the best stories come from decisions we didn’t plan. Leave Vienna for another day. Let’s see what the world has to offer outside this train.”

You hesitated, considering the proposal as the train continued through the ever-changing landscape. Scott seemed so confident, so at ease with the idea of following the unexpected. He looked at you with that gaze that suggested more than he was saying, as if simply stepping off the train was the key to something extraordinary.

“Are you serious?” you asked, laughing nervously.

“Completely,” he replied with a half-smile, but his eyes were sincere, almost challenging. “It’s just one night. One stop. If it’s terrible, we can hop back on tomorrow and head to Vienna like nothing happened. But… what if it’s amazing?”

Your heart raced with the thought. His words echoed in your mind, sparking a jolt of adrenaline. “I don’t know, Scott… This is way too spontaneous. Even for me.”

“Okay, you don’t have to decide now.” He stood up in one smooth, confident motion, as if the decision was already made for him. “I’m getting off at the next stop.” His eyes met yours one last time before he began to walk toward the carriage door. “If you decide to come, it’ll be more fun than you think.”

For a moment, you stayed where you were, your heart pounding, your mind racing. Scott was really doing this. The train began to slow, signaling that the stop was near. He moved toward the door, throwing one last glance your way, full of expectation.

“This is your last chance!” he teased, waving with a mischievous smile.

The train doors opened, and he stepped off. You watched him standing on the empty platform, hands in his pockets, a carefree smile on his lips. Hesitation hit you hard. What were you doing? Scott was a stranger—an unexpected adventure. Everything about this screamed “danger,” but at the same time, there was something undeniably captivating about the unknown.

The conductor’s voice echoed through the carriage, announcing the train’s imminent departure. Your heart jumped, and before you could convince yourself otherwise, you grabbed your backpack and stood up. Without looking back, you walked to the door, feeling your stomach flutter with every step. You took one last deep breath before stepping off the train.

Scott noticed you immediately. His eyes lit up with a mix of surprise and excitement, and he broke into a wide smile. “I knew it!” He laughed, clearly delighted. “I knew you were the adventurous type.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you replied, feeling the nervousness mixed with the exhilaration of something completely new and unexpected.

“Welcome to the adventure,” he said, as he began walking beside you along the quiet platform. “I promise this will be a story you won’t forget.”

And as the two of you left the small station toward the unknown, something inside you shifted. The hesitation was still there, but now it walked hand in hand with the sense that this night would be unforgettable—something you’d carry with you forever.

[randomfoggytiger]

"You Know My Memory Isn't What It Used to Be"

Fictober, Day 4

*-*-*-*-*

Inspired by @cecilysass's prompt: Scully observes Teena and Mulder interacting and has some kind of reaction (angry, protective, frustrated?) to that she feels she can’t fully express to him.

*-*-*-*-*

Mulder's cellphone rang while Scully was rifling around his kitchen, opening cabinets she pretended she was tall enough to reach. Her feet were about to elevate off the cold apartment floor in a grotesque exaggeration of en pointe when the mechanical amalgamation of alert, alert trilled in her partner's coat pocket. The British are coming, she thought childishly, the British are coming.

Paul Revere rose from his couch, wordless, and walked towards, not away from, his doom. He fiddled with his coat, fingers too clumsy to dive and surface artfully; and finally gave in, gripping and scraping the coat rack aside in increasing frenzy. Scully was halfway to his side before Mulder triumphantly put his prize to his ear, answered on a shaky, "Hello? Yes, this is Fox Mulder."

It was the hospital. She knew it would be; knew he knew it would be. Drifting closer, Scully stood, alert, prepared to guide his head back to her shoulder if the call ended in tears.

Instead, he gasped-- a violent, squelched little inhale. "She's awake?"

Both his hands shot up to the phone, steadying it as a means of steadying himself; and Scully shamelessly edged closer, shocked and disbelieving and trying her hardest to hear the nurse on the other line.

"Her vitals are good," Mulder relayed, left hand over the receiver, overwhelmed. "Her doctor wants to speak with us right away." He was already shoving on a pair of sneakers-- unlike the scuffed and damaged dress shoes he'd ruined that morning-- and expecting her to do likewise.

"Okay," she agreed, setting aside a small, dark distrust in medical improbabilities, "let's go."

*-*-*-*-*

Scully hung back while her partner peeked into his mother's room, listening to his whispery, "Mom?" and Tena Mulder's answering, "Fox!" with an eavesdropper's guilt. A chair scraped across the floor; and the hospital sheets crinkled as, she assumed, Mulder's arms came to rest on top of them. This was a private moment; and she leaned away, opting to give mother and son space.

"Dr. Scully?"

A nurse flanked her right, clipboard and bouncy, cheerful smile on hand. "Mrs. Mulder said you were there when she came to last time."

"Yes. How is she?"

"Doing very good-- remarkably well, actually. Dr. Standozer will be here shortly, but the patient gave us clearance to let you look over these."

How... unexpected. Tentatively, Scully took the nurse's chart and watched her trot away, a sense of unease beginning to take shape. Glancing down, she couldn't shake the feeling as she skim-read, slowed, then skipped a few passages. The expected, authorized answers were there in professionally typed print; but something nagged.

She combed through again, flipped back to an older record; and found it. The numbers, Scully was certain, were different. The date remained unchanged, perhaps even the time; but Tena's blood pressure, pulse rate, heart rhythm-- everything-- had been adjusted to more reasonable, recoverable levels.

*-*-*-*-*

Both Mulders were softly chuckling, radiantly lit by the carefully moderated hospital lamp, when she entered. Her partner's eyes were shining, wet in the corners; and his mother's were crinkled and gentle.

And distraught, Scully thought, watching Mrs. Mulder chase her son's hand around the bed if it dove too far for another blanket or reached away too long towards the door in greeting. Caught Tena glancing at the clipboard and tightening her lips until they were white. Mulder was too busy gleaning hope from her expression to notice his mother's; but he wouldn't be ignorant for long, if either woman didn't distract his attention.

"The prognosis is excellent," she admitted, straightening on reflex as both pairs of hazel eyes turned her way. Ignoring the prickling chill creeping down her back, Scully flipped through the reports audibly, watching Mulder scoot forward and Tena shrink back. "Exceptionally so. I don't know what your doctor will decide, but I doubt you'll be here for very long, Mrs. Mulder."

"That's good, thank you." Genteel yet cautious, saying neither too much nor too little.

Mulder began to fidget, excited and frayed and impatient. "Mom was telling me what she remembers, about her stroke."

"I don't remember much--" Mrs. Mulder stipulated, adjusting her position against the pillows, "--just that I was at the summer house; for what purpose, I don't recall. I must have had a stroke and fallen. I woke up here, or in another hospital room, and...." She paused, sighed, scrambled for an answer. "I think you were here with my son, Ms. Scully. And for that, I am grateful."

Tena Mulder looked from her boy to her visitor, placid and coolly controlled. But Scully, standing there with a cover-up burning in her fingertips, had the distinct impression Mrs. Mulder wanted to speak with her, alone.

"I'm going to see if Dr. Standozer has arrived," she said, and left before Mulder's trusting nod and Mrs. Mulder's drooping shoulders could sear her conscience irrevocably.

*-*-*-*-*

"Excuse me--" Scully asked, flying as discreetly as possible to the nurse's station, quietly flagging down the attention of a different attendant, "--can you pull up the medical report for Tena Mulder, please? I think this," she held up the chart, a rite of passage, "has a few errors; and I'd like to cross-reference them."

"I'm sorry," said Nurse Two, crinkling her brows across the desk. "Are you her--"

"I'm Dr. Scully-- Dr. Dana Scully. She wanted me to review these reports earlier."

"I'm sorry, Dr. Scully, but only her medical power of attorney is allowed to access Tena Mulder's medical history."

"I'm with the FBI," she snapped, displaying her credentials hurriedly. The impending Dr. Standozer loomed omnipresently in the shadows of her paranoid periphery. "I need to see those reports as soon as possible."

"Again, I'm sorry Dr. Scully. Her husband stated earlier that these reports weren't to be handed out unless--"

"Her husband? Mrs. Mulder has no husband."

Nurse Two took a step back, subtly stretching the strain in her legs. "He was here earlier, with a visitor. I don't know...." She stopped abruptly, smiled over Scully's shoulder, and changed the topic. "There's her doctor now. If you need to ask him any questions, I'm sure he'd be willing to oblige."

"No, thank you." Standozer, she presumed, was there-- salt and pepper hair, stethoscope and superiority stepping from the elevator. "But do you know if Mrs. Mulder is expected to make a complete recovery? A complete recovery of her memory, for example?"

Puzzled, Nurse Two cocked her head and stared. "Mrs. Mulder doesn't have memory difficulties, as far as I'm aware. Are you, perhaps, mixing her up with another patient?"

*-*-*-*-*

Dr. Standozer was approaching, was passing.

Scully followed him back into the room, stood in the corner by her partner, and pretended she didn't notice Mrs. Mulder's troubled, searching eyes.

*-*-*-*-*

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy! 

Tagging @today-in-fic and @xffictober24.

[tassodelmiele]

Noisy little mess

Hi sweetie ⁓

I'm actually surprised someone appreciated my little attempt.

I'm jiggling happily, even though you can't see.

Also, I'm unexpectedly enjoying writing in english, so as long as whatever I'm goddamn studying will let me, I'll keep on with this experiment.

I hope you like it!

Also forgive me again for any mistakes, english has too many consonants that are not pronounced and I mess up every time

DISCLAIMERS: no smut (sowwy) just some recollection of dirty moments, GhostxReader and Soap and Gaz 'cause finally they're throw into this mess, arguing (again), the gnome-nickname thing, blame shifting (again), how-not-to-do-training, ignoring doctor's advices, insubordination and yells ('cause me too i yell like an eagle when i'm angry), mask covering embarrassment

..................................................

Second part here:

................................................

And you do. You ask. And you shouldn't have.

«Of fucking course we noticed. It was like ye were constantly overwhelmed by…i don't know what, i've not a degree in women's hormones»

Johnny sips his morning coffee with nonchalance, while Gaz nods, sitting in front of the two of you. 

You're almost gonna faint. 

«And…and why the hell none have told me-»

«Oh, sure lassie, and how do ye think ye would have taken the news? "Hey dall, you know that ye're almost dripping from your panties?"»

Gaz throws a towel at him, but he agrees with another nod.

«Speak as you eat> he scolds him, then he turns at you: <he's right, though. You've acted weird the whole two last days. Why are you asking?»

 You bury your head in your hands, swallowing breakfast as it is dry sand in your throat.

«…nevermind. I'm just sorry at this point»

«There's no use lassie, we know ye» Soap's arm surrounds you, squeezing away a little bit of the anguish. «And ye'r not the only girl at the base, ya know? It happens»

«Seriously?»

«'F course»

«…my god. So now you know the period calendar of every female being at the base?»

«Kinda»

«…mh»

«Is he bothering you?»

You look at Gaz. He seems concerned and curious, and you don't really want him to be none of that. You don't know what to answer anyway, and reply arrives with ten seconds of delay:

«…he?»

«Ghost»

You shiver instinctively. And you know for sure that Johnny has felt you, but you shake your head like hell, pretending vigorously that you don't even know what Gaz's talking about.

«Why?»

«We've seen him around you a lot. And he could be demanding when someone's not giving his best at training. And…»

«…ye'r clearly not doing it» Soap ends the sentence with a teasing smile.

You answer with a pout, flexing your muscles.

«That's totally untrue. I'm always at my best»

«Raise your levels than, since i think he's ready to squeeze you like a lemon today»

It seems like Gaz 's talking really philosophically this morning. You raise an eyebrow at him, then follow his gaze behind you.

And you gulp, seeing a big, dark figure walking toward the table.

You swallow an oatmeal crumb, risking choking on yourself. Then a firm, strong grip holds your shoulder, making your bones crack like they're made out of crackers.

Ghost's voice hits you like a truck.

«I was wondering what could've made you late for the training». He glares at you from the top. «Breakfast. Of fucking course»

You hear the light laugh of Soap and Gaz, who're apparently taking the Lt.'s threatening as a funny joke. You're not. You're shivering, swallowing hot air, lowering your eyes deeper and deeper in the oatmeal. Your heart skips a beat as he tightens his hold on you.

«You have one minute»

And you swallow a "yes sir" in a breath.

Today is not your day. Not at all.

You've already noticed it, but it is clearer now that you're in the middle of the training field, with everyone's eyes on you, while your Lt. (who's fingered you, like, two days ago) has just chosen you for fight practice.

You're sweating like hell, taking deep breaths. You're already drained, even if everything you've done till now is just tryna not to be touched by his fists; and he's trying to knock you out with way more diligence than you've thought.

You're dodging, your legs tremble at every sudden jerk you make to avoid crushing your nose on his fists, and the tactic seems to be working till he reaches your leg with a kick. You fall on your back, hitting your head on the ground like an idiot, and he's on you in a blink of an eye, squeezing your wrist in one hand and your throat in the other.

You panic.

And the tiniest of the whines break on your lips.

He squeezed harder all of a sudden, gripping your throat with full strength, gazing at you with a strange, really odd sight. Like he's annoyed, angry and aroused at the same time. 

He lets you go, and you start to cough, with your throat bruised and your head and lungs hurting. You glare at him, and he does the same.

He spits out a cold: «what?» as if he's throwing an ice cubes bucket at you.

«Is not that fair» you don't fear to answer honestly, even if you're voice is being squeezed out of your lungs «fighting with a girl who's 30 cm smaller than you»

«Oh, my bad. And, out of curiosity…» he lowered his face down to you, pinning you to the ground with just his sight «what are you planning to do if you'll face an enemy my size?»

«Shot at him»

«Good one, gnome. But you're disarmed by now»

«…run, then. Hide, i dunno. There's no point in start a fight that's lost from the beginning»

And he smile. You know he's smiling, part 'cause the others rookies surrounding you are watching in total silence as they're afraid he might choose one of them to break their bones (and he might); and part 'cause he knows he's in control. 

He suddenly breath, sharp like a knife: «than, run»

You stare at him.

He's joking…right?

No.

He's not.

And you understand it as he stands up in all of his height, grabbing you by the arm and lifting your weight as if it's nothing. You stumble on your feet, breath still scattered, and again he glares at you, shouting a clearer:

«Run»

Your legs move by themselves.

You find yourself running like hell throughout the training field, clearly feeling his presence behind you, and you know how goddamn fast he is. You skip through other training groups. slipping between obstacles, your eyes fixed in front of you and your lungs about to explode. You keep going for what's like an eternity, and when you think you're doing it…

a firm grip holds you by the arm. Your body is forced to stop so suddenly that your breath is broken under the pressure of an opposite force throwing you on the ground. Your spine is smashed on the field, lungs are shaking and throbbing in your ribcage and, as you turn over on your stomach to try and get up again, he just kicks you in the back, grabbing your arm and pin it behind you so tight, rotating it with a lot of strength.

Too much strength,

And you yell like an eagle, feeling the nerve in your elbow cry as it turns on itself.

«Ulnar nerve compression»

Doc is so professional in front of you two, who, on the other hand, seems like a cat and its owner at the vet after a bad fight.

Ghost is clearly embarrassed. He's trying to be professional and stern, but he can't even face your gaze, which is ice-cold. You're sitting next to him, your arm bandaged just as much as it is needed to make sure you don't move it, and you're trying to squeeze a laser beam out of your eyes and make your lieutenant into a strainer.

What in the actual fuck

«Do not move it for a day. It is better for you to make it rest, otherwise you can make other damages. And» doctor gaze at Ghost under his little round glasses «please, be more careful with the training»

It seems like he would like to add something (it's the third time in a month Ghost nearly breaks someone's body part just for training), but the doctor just sighs. He let you two get out of the infirmary, and as soon as you're alone in the corridor Ghost collect his breath to shout a not so convinced:

«…i'm sorry»

But this time you're ready.

«No. No, you're not»

«I am»

«You're just amused»

He stops, looking at you while you walk away in all of your 165 cm of glory and stillness. Then he reaches you again, not daring to touch any part of your body since he's already done enough damage.

«What does that even mean?»

«It means that you enjoy being able to crush whoever you want with bare hands»

«Like 's something the others don't enjoy»

«Not in that way». You raise your bandaged arm, hissing a painful breath. «We were training! Why couldn't we just do it normally?»

«Fight practice is normal, gnome»

«Not like that! My elbow had turned fucking purple!»

«You could've just run faster»

You stop. Your face jerks toward him, glaring at his goddamn mask like you're gonna spit fire from your mouth, and you have to look like a crazy owl since he doesn't seem to be frightened.

«Look» you start, restraining yourself from yelling «I'm not the best soldier, but I've never had problems with any of my superiors, i do my work and i don't act like a pussy. But I'm human. Ok? H-u-m-a-n»

«Seems like you know your limits»

«Of course i do, that's why-»

«You could've just told me to stop»

«Why me?!» you suddenly hiss through your teeth, looking desperately at the man who seems to enjoy your incoming aneurysm. «We…we used to eat the same breakfast, laughing with your team, speaking about cats in the morning…why have you started to play this goddamn game with me?? What has changed in two days?»

«You»

He breathes the answer like it is obvious, and your brain glitch for a second.

«…what?»

«You've changed» 

«Are you joking with me? What-how would i…»

Then you start connecting dots. Your gaze meets him again, piercing his mask.

«…is it because of that night? Is it still because of my goddamn moaning?»

And you know he's embarrassed.

You know it, since he doesn't know where to put his hands, and how to look properly at you. He rushes to speak again, choking the sudden loss of words in a stern: «I've already explained: it's your behavior»

«Seriously? You can't go forward? Did it seriously hit you that bad?»

«Don't» and he gives back the piercing-sight «play with me, gnome. Watch your fucking mouth»

«I've literally done nothing»

«You breath»

You raise your eyebrows, charge your voice and blow your cheeks: «oh, i'm so sorry if i function like a human being!»

«Is how you do it, you stupid little-»

«Oh no, don't you dare try to-»

«To what?»

«To put the blame on me!»

«Well i can't do that much 'bout it!»

Voices are lowering a little too much outside the infirmary. You stop your feet, turn again at him and stare at his glare with arms crossed, ready to scold your superior (even if it is the most stupid thing to do)...

but you shut.

He's a few steps away from you, eyes down on the floor and head a little titled. Your jaw dropped a little.

«…are you flustered?»

You can clearly see his brain snapping at light fast. And you know well how better it is for you to shut, pretend nothing happened and go away on your feet (till you've got functioning legs), but you can't do much about how fast your mouth opens, and your voice starts to come dangerously out in a whispered:

«Am i really turning you on?»

....................................................

[lunarsun12]

Yeonjun Biggest Mistake

Masterlist

Author Note: Happy New Year to you all! Let’s start off the year with some TXT content! Happy Reading!!

It is the end of the year, Soobin annual MC award is coming up. Which always leads to the same argument of Yeonjun begging Soobin, not to go. As he gets lonely without Soobin but Soobin was determined to go. Soobin felt bad for Yeonjun and decided to him invite to the award show as his plus one. Which without doubt, Yeonjun accepted happily.

However, Soobin is worried that someone needs to look after the kids mainly the two youngest. Yeonjun bumped into Beomgyu and he immediately asked if wants to be in charge (he was the first person that a yeonjun saw). Which beomgyu happily said yes!

Will Beomgyu actually look after his siblings? Or will bring choas to his youngest brother?

Soobin and Yeonjun private chat 

Today 18:00

Soobin🍞: Yeonjun hunny, stop being mad at Beomgyu. I have already forgiven him

Yeonjun🐯: You are weak for his puppy eyes! He only does it, so he doesn’t get grounded! You spoil him too much! I won’t surrender to him!!

Soobin🍞: He is really sorry…he even made us food!

Yeonjun🐯: Likewise, Soobinie you need to toughen up! The kids bully you the most as you are so soft on them!

Soobin🍞: At least, I don’t hit our children with a belt!

Yeonjun🐯: How did you found out-

Soobin🍞: Beomgyu filmed it, when you chased Kai with the belt. I don’t know why, he would do that but good thing he did!!

Yeonjun🐯: That Beomgyu…

Soobin🍞: If you forgive Beomgyu, I will pretend that the belt incident never happend 😊

Now why is Beomgyu getting in trouble, leading him to use his special powers on the parents. Mainly Soobin…now let’s have flashback the yesterday afternoon

Yesterday

Soobin and Yeonjun private chat

Today 15:00

Yeonjun🐯: Soobinnie, you really have to go? You know that award show, I barely see you these days

Soobin🍞: Yeonjun hunny, you know that it is important! Lots of people are depending on my mc skills~

Yeonjun🐯: Can’t you skip? This year and do it next year!

Soobin🍞: You know, I never miss it! It’s a tradition can’t let the people down! I have given so much for you! Don’t be so unreasonable

Soobin🍞: Hey, why don’t you come with me to award show? And watch me MC? Maybe I can ask the producer, to give a small dance segment, even though it is so last mins

Yeonjun🐯: Oh my gosh, yes yes!! I would love to go, also don’t bother with the dance segment! I haven’t even practiced, don’t wanna embarrass myself

Yeonjun🐯: It was so embarrassing, when my pants ripped on stage 3 years ago. I have trauma

Soobin🍞: Good thing, it was dark! No one can see that!!

Soobin🍞: Now are you happy?

Yeonjun🐯: Yes very happy!!

Yeonjun🐯: Hang on a secs, whose gonna look after the kids?

Soobin🍞: Maybe Jaemin from downstairs can look after them?

Yeonjun🐯: ABSOLUTELY NOT! I heard he kidnapped Kai before and refused to give him back. Kai have to runaway from their old home. The risk is high…

Yeonjun🐯: Hang on, I will ask the kids to be in charge!

A few second later

Yeonjun🐯: I asked Beomgyu, to be in charge. He seems to be responsible enough

Soobin🍞: Are you sure? You should trust Beomgyu? What about Taehyun?

Yeonjun🐯: Beomgyu, is our only option! Soobinie, I told many times! Taehyun isn’t responsible, he appears to be!

Yeonjun🐯: NO ONE LAUGHS WHILIST STUDYING!

Soobin🍞: If things go wrong, you have yourself to blame!!

After Beomgyu convo with Yeonjun, he was over the moon. He got chosen to be the boss of the house! He can’t wait to boss ah I mean look his siblings, as he loves them sooo much. He can’t to express his joy to his brothers in the group chat.

TXT Sibling Trio Chat

Beomgyu👑: IM THE KING! OBEY ME SERVANTS!!

Taehyun😴: What? King?

Heuningkai🐧: Is beomgyu hyung, playing dress up?

Beomgyu👑: Not dress up! Appa gave me the power to look after you two, as Eomma and him are going to some award show!

Beomgyu👑: I cannot wait until tonight he he

Heuningkai🐧: What with the evil laugh? Taehyun hyung, I am scared-

Taehyun😴: Beomgyu is an idiot, we have nothing to fear. Come Kai, let’s watch some anime

Night, has struck the parents left for an award show. With a concerned Soobin, fearing Yeonjun really made a mistake.

Soobin: Eomma and Appa are leaving. Be good for you big brother Beomgyu!

Soobin gave each of the kids a hug before he left as well with an impatient Yeonjun at the door. After the parents left, Beomgyu turned to Kai and Taehyun, and gave them a smirk.

Beomgyu: Somone make me ramen

Taehyun: You do it yourself, you have legs

Beomgyu: I didn’t make myself clear, make me ramen or else I will Eomma that you aren’t really studying. The disappointment tut tut

Taehyun: We made pact! You promised, to not snitch to Eomma!

Taehyun: That playing dirty!

Beomgyu gave a shrug and made gesture to the kitchen. Which Taehyun has no choice to obliged.

Taehyun: *mumbling* I will make it extra salty, maybe it can ward of that evilness of him

Beomgyu: I heard that! You better make it nice or else I will make you make it again

Whilst Taehyun was busy making beomgyu gourmet ramen. Kai is in his room, playing video games with penguin plush at the side. Until beomgyu barges in and demanded that Kai should give him the penguin to plush to him. For his ‘makeover’ (it never ends well..it normally leads Kai plush losing some it’s stuffing)

Beomgyu: Kai~ Can you please give your penguin plush to me~

Heuningkai: *glances* No, it’s brand new! I don’t want you to give it another makeover!

Beomgyu: Appa…put me in charge! Listen to your hyung!!

Heuningkai: No you a big bully! Who always steal my plush

After Kai said it, Beomgyu immediately swiped Kai penguin plush from Kai’s grip. Ran away whilist laughing evilly. With Kai at his heels saying ‘Give my plush back’

2 hours of hell for Kai and Taehyun

Taehyun and Kai Private Chat

Heuningkai🐧: Hyung! I’m scared to leave your room! Beomgyu won’t stop demanding things!

Taehyun😴: He is blackmailing us…well me to do whatever he wants. Whoever gave him the power is stupid

Heuningkai🐧: My penguin, he is gonna colour his white belly, blue again

Taehyun😴: I can hear him, setting up a flour bomb outside my room

Taehyun😴: My back aches, for having to Pugh back him everywhere around the house

Heuningkai🐧: I CAN’T STAND THIS ANY LONGER! How much longer until Eomma and Appa are coming home?

Taehyun😴: Another 3 hours or so

Heuningkai🐧: Can we hide downstairs? I don’t care, if I am not able to leave. This is better then having to be bossed by beomgyu

Taehyun😴: Fine, let’s go!

Without hesitation, Kai opened the door and floor has rained on him like snow (he forgot about the flour trap). Which leads little laugh from Taehyun

Heuningkai: When did this happened?

Taehyun: *trying not to laugh* this is why I Lear you go first. Haven’t been listening Beomgyu doing something outside the door

Heuningkai: Why is it quiet?

Kai and Taehyun quietly tip toed into the living room and they found a sleeping Beomgyu on the couch, hugging Kai plush with a blond wig on it

Heuningkai: *whispers* Thank god, he didn’t try to colour the bell this time

Taehyun: *whispers* Come on, let’s go!

Kai and Taehyun left their house, to visit the Dream house for their safety.

After the award show…

Kids we are home!

There was no answer

Yeonjun: Maybe they went to sleep?

Soobin: I take back what I said about beomgyu in charge. Look him sleeping holding his brother toy

The next day…

Soobin calls the kid for breakfast. Only see beomgyu appeared

Soobin: Beomgyu, where is Taehyun and Kai?

Beomgyu: That what I am forgetting, absolutely no clue where they are

Soobin: Yeonjun, check their rooms!

A few mins later, Yeonjun came back shaking his head.

Yeonjun: They are not in their room

Soobin: What? Beomgyu, are you sure you don’t know where they are?

Beomgyu shrugs and continue to scroll on his phone

Yeonjun: Maybe they went do something

Soobin gave Yeonjun the side eye: If they doing an activity Beomgyu wouldn’t be here

Soobin: Why do I have bad feeling about this…

Yeonjun: Weridly enough, I saw some flours outside Taehyun door as well dust towards the door

Soobin immediately glared at Beomgyu, knowing it was him who did it.

Soobin: Yeonjun get the bat, let’s collect our kids from there. Beomgyu you stay put!

An hour later, the parents collected the two brothers, who told them everything about what happened with Beomgyu, and how they ended up there. Luckily enough Kai didn’t get hurt, as he managed to scare chenle and jisung thinking he was a ghost.

End of flashback

Soobin and Yeonjun private chat

Yeonjun🐯: You can’t do this to me! That is like blackmailing

Soobin🍞: I told you, this is a bad idea to ask Beomgyu. Never trust him. The only person is realiable is Taehyun

Soobin🍞: Now fix the mess, you cause

Yeonjun🐯: Fine…I let home get away this time! Can you please that belt incident, I just got a tad a bit mad

Soobin🍞: I will forget until I see you forgiven Beomgyu 😊

[sukirichi]

sweet lies [03.final]

His lies were way too sweet – and you were too addicted to make him stop.

cw. toxic! megumi, SEXY TOXIC MEGUMI 🥵, toxic college settings, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, orgasm denial, explicit smut, car sex, biting, scratching, sukuna is a sex god, MEGUMI WITH A LIP RING, slight angst

note. FINALLY FINISHED THIS SERIES AAAAHHH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKED THIS I HAD A LOT OF FUN WITH THIS SERIES TYSM FOR EVERYTHING! lotsa lub lub for each and everyone of you! anyways let me just say...sweet lies sukuna can politely rail me.

series masterlist | 01 | 02 | 03

It’s…a different story when you have to move back and forth between your newly made acquaintance slash fuck buddy, Sukuna, to your actual fuck buddy and crush, Megumi.

Sukuna’s polite enough to not meddle into your business as he’s promised, which you’re extremely thankful for, but you should’ve known the bubble of happiness would pop the moment you stepped out of your apartment. You’ve left your phone unattended and on silent, earbuds always placed inside to ignore Megumi’s calls.

It’s funny, actually, that he’s never replied much to you before other than occasional dick pic and ‘you awake baby?’ but ever since you’ve been…pre-occupied, suddenly you’re on top of his contacts.

You grumble at the vibration of your phone, Megumi’s name flashing on the screen. Back then, you would’ve soared and jumped to pick up the call, voice sultry and toes pointed at the ceiling as you try to keep in your giggles. Now, you’re dreading it, glaring at his annoyingly handsome contact icon that used to make your heart skip a beat. You’re studying in the library and have been doing a terrific job at avoiding him so far, and today won’t be any different.

With a sigh, you completely flip your phone upside down and turn back to your book. You’re on the second line of the paragraph when you feel large, warm hands caress the back of your neck, tilting you upwards to meet his curious – and certainly annoyed – blue eyes.

“Babe,” Megumi drawls out, minty breath fanning your cheeks.

He looks absolutely stunning today, plain and casual yet so handsome in just a black hoodie and sweatpants, his dark hair slicked back to reveal his forehead. For a guy who sure pounded into your skill he had no interest in you that went beyond sexual, he sure did know you well enough, the slight tugging of his lips a sign he could easily read through you. It makes you huff away from him, scooting – trying is the keyword – away from his touch. Megumi’s persistence leads him into you placing you right above his lap and cages you between his arms, chin on your shoulder and his breath floating over your ear.

You can’t help but squirm in embarrassment. Half of the students in the campus library have turned to look at you, and Megumi merely smiles at the attention, audacious enough to kiss the shell of your ear.

Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him! In reality, you really do want to fuck him.

“Why have you been ghosting me?”

“I wasn’t ghosting you, Megumi, it’s called being busy. You ever tried doing homework?”

“You’re so mean to me today,” he pouts, but that pout soon brightens into a smile when you scowl at him. Megumi, albeit never really paying attention to you, your facial expressions have registered as second nature to him now. It doesn’t take much before you soften under his hold, still as mushy as ever, and the nasty fucker basks in it proudly. “There’s a party tonight at Okkotsu’s house, said his parents were away in Greece or some rich family shit. Wanna come and get wasted with me?”

“I don’t know, Megs, I have an essay to finish…”

“Come on, it’s just one night. It won’t hurt,” he shrugs and sways you to side to side, causing your heart to sway side to side in giddiness. It’s this – moments like this – that really fools you into believing Megumi likes you. And that sweet lie only turns sweeter from his words that drip like honey, “Plus, I’ve missed you. Can’t think straight when we’ve been apart for too long, baby.”

You pretend to think about it.

That slight falter in a split second brings about a waver in Megumi’s confident you didn’t think would be possible. Not that you can blame him; you never did have to think about it whenever he invites you to fuck around with him. In fact, you say yes a lot faster than he can ask you something, but something’s been changing you lately – or rather someone.

In the end though, you’ll circle up right where you belong.

Relishing in the rarity of having Megumi coddle you with kisses and affection, his perfume still as boyish and vanilla that deluded you into his faux aura of a sweet boy, you melt one more time. Hopefully, it would transition into a one last time before Megumi’s completely wrapped you around his finger.

“Fine. I’m leaving if it’s too noisy though.”

“Awesome,” Megumi chirps, pulling you in for a long, solid kiss. It takes you back by surprise that you end up wide-eyed above him, stiff hands on his shoulders as you feel him smile through the kiss. Then, just as you’re about to kiss him back with the same passion, Megumi separates himself from you and squeezes your ass. “Promise we’ll have fun, babe. I’ll even bring extra condoms.”

You’re not surprised he left afterwards.

But are you hurt? Most definitely so.

Fuck Fushiguro Megumi.

You were going to leave him, block him, ignore him, avoid him, and carve him out of your heart for good. It’s what you deserve – to be freed from such a toxic guy like him. His pretty face shouldn’t be an excuse for you stick around any longer. That party…well, it would be your last one, you’re never going back!

Still, it’s not that easy to let go. Years of following him around with puppy eyes and spreading your legs open for him like it’s the most natural thing to do isn’t just going to disappear in a day.

It’s for closure, you lie to yourself. That’s all it is – you just need closure. So for one last time, you’ll fuck around with Megumi, then you’d leave him. For good this time.

And yet – your mind still races back to him. His throaty, boyish laughter and the stupid way his eyes crinkle into half moons, his large hands slapping his knees when you tell him a really silly joke. Okay, he didn’t really laugh that much because he’s already passed out in the times you crack jokes after sex, but the few times he did, though? It’s magical, beautiful, phenomenal.

He’s so awful yet so irresistibly charming it’s a huge tug of war between your rational mind and foolish heart.

You couldn’t focus anymore in the library. If you wanted to pass your exams, you need to be somewhere that won’t remind you of him, in a place where a stronger aroma would conceal his lingering scent. The best option was to hang around in a local café closer to your apartment than on campus, and you’ve completely ditched your usual get up to just opting for lookinglike a complete shut in – bags under eyes, heart torn over a stupid boy, the usual Iced Vanilla Latte with the condensation sticking to the wooden table and soft lofi music playing in the background – it’s just the perfect atmosphere for you to wallow in self-pity.

And wallow in self-pity you did, your cheeks squished against the pale furniture while you sighed for what seems like the hundredth time that day. At the back of your head, Megumi is still giving you one of those slow, long kisses reserved for only when he’s half-sleepy, your heart doing insane back flips as you reminisced whatever moments you once had.

You’re so lost in your own train of thought you fail to hear the scraping of a chair, followed by a heavy body plopping across you. “Well, this is kind of gloomy…”

At the sound of that awfully familiar, deep voice, you sit up straight in a frenzy. Sukuna smirks at your reaction as he loudly sips from his matcha latte – which you would’ve never thought he likes – and sits back at his chair, legs crossed against one another. Unlike Megumi, he doesn’t seem to pose any other malicious intent, so you bury your head in your arms, wishing for the ground to just open up and eat you already.

“I’m sleep deprived and haven’t eaten anything except Red Bull and coffee,” you try to explain, “I look horrible.”

“Don’t say that. You’re gorgeous all the time.”

From under your arms, you scowl at nowhere in particular, ignoring the heat rushing from the back of your neck. Sukuna didn’t seem to be flirting with you, and one peek at him swirling his straw inside his cup proves your theories.

However, the offhanded compliment falls so naturally from his lips it takes you a back, and not in a good way. Defensively, you cross your arms against your chest. You knock your toes against Sukuna’s knees under the knees to get his attention, the taller man peering at you under his lashes, tongue innocently swirling around his straw.

I fucking hate men! – is what you want to say, but something different comes out. “Why are you even here? Aren’t you asleep in the morning because of work?”

“It’s my day off,” he sets his cup down, placing his chin on both of his palms. Sukuna’s gaze travels from your face down to the abandoned papers before you, a scowl immediately making its way to his face.  “Got too bored to cook so I came here for a light snack. As for you…ew, are you doing essays? I hated that shit in college.”

“Yeah, I hate it too,” you numbly agree, “Can barely function right now.”

Sukuna’s eyes lit up the moment you nearly fall on the table again, his palm quick to caress your cheek. If he can feel the intense heat of your skin from the sudden gesture, he makes no comment about it. Instead, Sukuna hauls you from your seat, nodding to your bag and papers before he rushes you out the door.

When Sukuna said he could make you feel better, the last thing you thought of was going to the nearby park. Now, you find yourself sitting comfortably with him, aggressively licking on the vanilla ice cream he’d gotten you from an ice cream man that passed by. It’s a great way to kill the time – or just to enjoy the day despite the rough start – because the sunlight feels warm on your skin, the trees above you shading you from extra shade.

Next to you, Sukuna is surveying his ice cream with the least interest, his brows furrowed as he notes, “Your crush is toxic. I suggest you cut ties with him and get it all over with.”

In part of making you feel better, Sukuna’s subtly given you clues you could tell him whatever’s going on in your mind. It makes you wonder if maybe you’ve been that obvious that even Sukuna could read you, but you’re thankful that he understood, because you really did want to rant about it. Your friends are just a one call away, but they’re not any better. They’ll keep claiming ‘Megumi just needs time’ because they know it’s what you want to hear to make yourself feel better. Though, every once in a while, you needed to talk to someone who could actually slap the harsh reality at your face, and who else would be more suitable than a mature adult like Sukuna?

Looking at him now, the contrast between your roommate and your crush is immense. Where Megumi is all bark and no bite, all needy and never giving, Sukuna’s silent and compliant, an extremely good listener with the patience of a monk.

“It’s not that easy.”

“Yeah it is. Just block his number and avoid him. He’ll get the answer soon enough.”

“You don’t understand,” you groan in defeat. Sukuna faces you with worry written all over his face, seemingly tender in comparison to the tattoos marking his skin. Sometimes, it’s so easy to forget he’s actually a lot more decent than Fushiguro fucking Megumi, but you end up slipping anyway, turning to the sky just as tears prick at your eyes. “I…I love him, okay? I’ve always been in love with him even though I know I’m just someone who warms his bed. I know that much and yet…I can’t seem to let him go.”

Sukuna is silent for a full minute. You thought he’ll offer you some adult wisdom only people like him would now, but Sukuna simply snorts, happily licking at his ice cream as if you didn’t just break down in front of him. “Shit’s tough then.”

“You’re great at comforting, you know that?”

“Oh, I wasn’t comforting you,” he smiles and pats your knee, “Come on, let’s go home. I know just how to take your mind off things.”

With the way he’s caressing your thigh and his voice turned an octave lower, you chastise yourself for feeling aroused when you wanted to cry just seconds ago. But his fingers are inching closer and closer to your inner thigh, and he’s warm and strong – so fucking nice too that perhaps fucking him wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

But like always, Sukuna never fails to surprise you.

You expected he’d take you right to his room the moment you’ve crossed the door, but Sukuna dashes for the TV before carrying a huge blanket and heaps of pillow. You watch there, stunned. He makes quick work of fluffing the pillows before grabbing your wrist and pulling you above him the same way Megumi did a while ago.

The only difference? Your heart doesn’t skip a beat. You’re not intoxicated by his scent. You’re not trying to squirm away from him nor do you feel like a silly little schoolgirl who’s fallen in love at first sight.

Where Megumi is deceivingly charming, Sukuna is more like a strong pillar to lean on, which you do exactly. Your head rests on his shoulder, both of your legs tangled under the blankets he’s covered you with. He’s blinking as Tangled plays on the TV, the faint sensation of his fingers playing with yours comforting and way too comfortable. It should feel weird to hang out with a guy like this without him wanting to shove his dick deep inside you minutes later (your movie marathons with Megumi never really finish as previously planned) but with Sukuna?

It feels natural. It feels great. It feels like home.

You’re gaping at him long before you realize it, one of your hands absentmindedly playing with the strings of his hoodie. Sukuna hums along to I Have A Dream with a small smile on his face, one that forms into a playful glare as he catches you staring at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Disney is a classic.”

You fight back a smile. “Wasn’t complaining,” burying yourself deeper into his warm embrace, you’re lulled into an early slumber with Sukuna’s humming combined with the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His plan worked efficiently �� for a moment, you forget your heart was aching to begin with.

After screaming internally for a good hour and a half, you arrive at the party anyway. The stench of weed, alcohol, and sex hanging thickly in the air is more than familiar to you by now. You ignore the catcalls you receive as you make your way to Megumi and fuck, he just had to look even sexier tonight.

He’s ditched his e-boy getup with a plain white shirt, black ripped skinny jeans, a Converse, and that black leather jacket he always refused to wear. Megumi really woke up and chose violence today, the minimalistic silver chain around his neck only adding to his appeal. You should’ve run away then – he literally screams trouble – but you’ve never been one to shy from that. Truth be told, you’re only pulled in harder, swaying your hips side to side as you sashay to where he’s laughing along with his friends.

Clearing your throat to get his attention, Megumi finally lays his eyes on you.

You’re glad you took the extra time to dress in your best outfit today – a lace orange mini dress that accentuates your cleavage just enough for a tease, paired with black combat boots and a white purse slung from your shoulder. Pride pumps through your veins when Megumi steps away from his friends, his hands encircling around your waist almost possessively. He smirks through your hair, those addicting lips trailing lower and lower down to your neck until, “You smell like another man.”

Now that you weren’t expecting. He doesn’t seem to be mad, perhaps a little jealous judging by how he’s grinding his crotch to your abdomen and tugs you closer, but this is Megumi in the question. He never gets jealous, so you flatten your palms onto his chest, eyes daring and red lips upturned into a smirk as you ask, “Why do you care?”

Megumi raises a brow – which really shouldn’t have been such a sexy thing – at your spunk. Normally, you’re too sweet and submissive to him, never would’ve even dared to dress something as revealing like this, but maybe you’re tired of being sweet.

Maybe this time, you wanted to match Megumi’s spice, fight fire with fire.

Megumi chuckles above your lips and swipes a thumb over your lower lip, humming when the coating doesn’t stain his fingers. He’s mentioned before he hates washing the lipstick off his dick, and the fact you remember that has him groaning at your ear. Unsurprisingly, Megumi’s already hard. He nibbles at the shell of your ear, possessive hands brushing over your collarbone as a silent promise of what he’ll be doing to you tonight.

“Like I said, this pussy is mine.”

You should say no. It’s evident in the darkness of his eyes he’s daring you to say no, but it’s too much. The cramped space that diminishes space until it becomes a myth, his hands rubbing circles at your hip, the glint of his new lip ring under the disco lights and anything, everything about Fushiguro Megumi just makes you feel so weak you can’t say no.

Satisfied with your silence, Megumi sweeps you upstairs. There’s already a round of Truth or Dare going on with a bunch of drunk and half-high college students, the lights red and the aroma of weed thick in the air.

It bothers you so you stick close to Megumi, nose stuck at the collar of his leather jacket. He’s not satisfied with just you sitting next to him; Megumi is territorial. He makes sure you’re comfy and using his lap like a throne, clasping both your hands in your lap while he boredly stares at his friends. Okkotsu Yuta, the host who used to be super shy in his freshman year but became one of the most sought after guys in his junior year, sits across from you in the circle. He’s already giggling in his drunken state while Nobara Kugisaki makes the mistake of choosing dare, flinging her bra straight at a very enthusiastic Yuuji.

They spin the bottle and it lands straight at you. Megumi hums in anticipation at the crook of your neck, his little sounds mixed with his heated touches sending fire straight down your core. It’s inebriating to have him this close, but you need to keep a straight head if you want to survive.

Fighting the arousal pooling at your stomach, you offer a flat smile. “Truth.” As expected, the crowd isn’t pleased. They holler, “Booooo,” with their hands cupped around their mouths, the others snickering at you, though you’re quite satisfied with the safety of your choice. You could be crazy with Megumi, but being crazy around others isn’t something you’re comfortable with.

Thankfully, Yuta shushes the crowd dramatically with a threat he’ll kick them out with his infamous Katana that’s been passed down by an ancestor. Once everyone’s calmed down, Yuta smirks at you, eyes wiggling as he asks, “Who’s the best dick you ever had?”

You don’t think twice about it. Someone else’s face pops up for a split second, but it’s so natural, so obvious that you would say – “Megumi.”

“Speak louder, baby, they won’t hear.”

“It’s you,” you suddenly grow shy at the attention, whatnot with Megumi shamelessly trailing hot kisses down your neck now for everyone to see. He’s shameless as he rocks you back and forth on his thigh, all the while keeping eye contact with the other guys whose eyes are zeroed in on the swell of your breasts that are an inch away from popping out from your dress. It’s the best time to submit, the perfect time to give him what he wants, and his expert hands prompt his name out of you with a single suck at your neck.

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Damn, Megumi, you’ve trained your bitch well.”

“’Course I did. My dick does all the disciplining,” Megumi cups your jaw to tilt your face at him, cooing at you as you flush embarrassed from everyone’s snickering. “Aw, don’t pout baby, it’s all just harmless jokes. You know I treat you like a goddess when we’re alone.”

“Yo, man, get a fucking room!”

Megumi ignores Yuuji’s comments and makes an offhanded comment the latter is just jealous because he hasn’t had his dick wet in days, ensuing a close dog fight between the guys. Maki has to step in and kick the strawberry haired boy back to his seat, scolding her cousin to back down. Meanwhile, you cling to Megumi like a scaredy-cat, head empty with nothing but the way he’s never hold you this close and proudly before.

Just one last time.

“Megs, your turn.”

“Dare.”

Yuuji slaps his palm over Yuta who usually gives the dares. The older guy rolls his eyes but lets it slide, knowing that Yuuji could also let loose with his dares. Megumi isn’t afraid though, he stays docile around you, leaving little nibbles at your ear and even squeezing your boobs at one point. You know he’ll never back down from Yuuji’s dares, even as his eyes darken with mischief. Now, Yuuji is a nice guy, but something doesn’t quite feel right with the way he’s staring Megumi down.

“I dare you to kiss the hottest girl in the room.”

Megumi freezes.

Time must’ve stopped because everyone is chanting, “KISS, KISS, KISS!” but he makes no move. You stay there, staring up at him wide eyed with your arms looped around his neck. Your heart is beating a mile a minute in your chest the moment Megumi’s eyes gaze down to your lips, smirking as he leans closer, leans down lower, and you close your eyes, waiting for the salacious kiss that would sear at the back of your mind. But it never comes and a gust of wind flies by through you, and before you know it, Megumi’s leaned over your shoulder, his hand cupping the cheek of this girl named Alicia who you’ve heard about from your friends before that she’s Megumi’s current pick.

Alicia was never supposed to kiss him back. Your friends told you, they promised you she wasn’t the type of person to fall for the likes of Megumi, and yet she’s smiling through the kiss. You’re still in Megumi’s lap but your vision is of the audience, their jaws dropped and Yuuji slapping Yuta’s thighs. “Oh, shit! That’s gotta hurt!”

You don’t think twice.

You push yourself off Megumi and run out the room, the sounds of their chaotic laughter mocking you to no end. You know – you fucking know – you’d never quite belong in Megumi’s circle. Everyone knows you’re just another one of his bed warmers, and they also know how much you’re hopelessly in love with him, begging, hoping that one day he might return your affections.

It makes perfect sense with each step you take further from the room. This has to be staged, intentional, because there’s no way Yuuji would’ve said that if he didn’t already have an idea maybe Alicia reciprocated Megumi’s feelings.

But what about your feelings?

Does no one really care? Were you really reduced to just another body count?

Your chest squeezed uncomfortably as you pushed past the crowd, ignoring everyone’s protests from how rough you were. You don’t stop until you’ve locked yourself inside a restroom, tears freely falling down your face. With trembling hands, you fall back to the floor, dialing the only person you could trust right now.

He picks up not three rings later, voice still gruff and laced with sleep. “Hello?”

“S-Sukuna,” you whimper, pathetically wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “I’m – can you please pick me up?”

From the other line, you can hear Sukuna shuffling for something in the background. Keys dangle and he locks the door, the sounds of his rushed footsteps so relieving to your senses. “Where are you? What’s wrong? Did someone force themselves on you?”

“No, I just…I want to go home.”

“Text me the address. I’ll be there soon.”

You text him the address and end the call. From the outside, the bass is thumping so hard it makes your head pound. You’re already feeling dizzy from crying so much, hands clutched around your chest because it hurts so much.

Stupid Megumi, fucking stupid Megumi – but aren’t you the stupider one? You’re the one who chose to keep being with him despite the warning signs. You’ve heard what everyone said about him, his reputation as a fuckboy isn’t exactly a secret, but you hoped, you sincerely hoped you could at least be good enough. But you’re not not good enough – Megumi just simply doesn’t deserve you. You deserve better and he needs to go to hell, so then why does it hurt so much the more you picture how he’s humiliated you like that?

Your dress is beyond soaked from how much you’ve cried. At this point, you just feel achingly numb. The pounding in your head is matched by the soft knocks rapping against the door, and thinking it’s Megumi or one of his lackeys, you wrap your arms around your knees.

“GO AWAY!”

“Sweetheart, it’s me. Open up, let’s get you home,” It’s Sukuna. Scrambling for the door, you push it open and jump into his arms without a second thought. Sukuna effortlestly catches you, and the dam you thought had dried up in you breaks again. He stiffens as you cry on his shoulder, fists balled around his shirt in a vice-like grip. “Who the fuck made you cry? Is it him again?” he growls, “I seriously want to knock the living daylights out of him.”

“Don’t start a ruckus, Sukuna.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he visibly softens at your state. Sukuna rubs your back soothingly and lets you cry like that, shielding your vulnerable state with his arm. He moves you to hide your face in his chest and kisses the crown of your head, so gentle and unbelievably tender. “I don’t pick on someone weaker than me. That’s bullying.”

You don’t utter another word as he leads you out of the house. He mutters under his breath on how kids are so wild these days and he really can’t imagine he was once like that. Sukuna’s car is parked on the curb, and you rush for it, eager to go home until he stops you. He wraps his jacket around your shoulders to offer you some modesty and you offer him a weak smile, allowing him to embrace you from the sides to guide you.

“Hey!” Megumi calls out, “Hey, what are you doing with her? Let her go,” his footsteps echo behind you just as you clench your eyes shit, “I said let her go!”

“Don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid, don’t punch the kid,” Sukuna mutters to himself like a mantra.

“Yo, steroid guy, you deaf or what? I said let my girl go—” Megumi falls on his ass. He stares up at whoever punched him, eyes wide at Sukuna’s arm raised, but his eyes are on you. “Ow! You fucking bitch, you broke my nose!”

“Shit,” Sukuna laughs beside you as you wince at the soreness of your knuckle. “That was hot.” Somehow, you find the ability to smile. You’ve always wanted to top Megumi, but seeing him below you like this, weak and clutching his broken nose while whining about it like a little bitch, it feels a lot more satisfying.

You want to scream at him, to release all the profanities that have manifested your anger throughout the years. But Megumi crawls back with something unreadable in his eyes, the edges of his lips tinted red with a smack of lipstick, probably from Alicia.

The sight has you scoffing. Maybe you don’t have anything to worry about after all – Megumi hates lipstick stains with a passion. If he ever gets with her, they won’t last long enough.

That fact is enough for you to flip your hair over your shoulder, glaring at Megumi one last time before dragging Sukuna down by the collar. His laughter ceases the moment your lips collide, your hands teasing around his neck to brush at his undercut. Sukuna moans through the kiss, the way he’s explicitly grabbing the flesh of your ass a sign he’s aware what kind of game you’re playing. You make a mental note to apologize for this later, but for now, you’ll shamelessly savor his tongue and the minty aftertaste, grabbing at his large frame that picks you up with no ease.

You leave Megumi gaping at the lawn after that, your finger middle raised right before Sukuna speeds off.

Fuck, that has never felt so good. This feeling…it bursts through you. There’s this certain satisfaction in finally having the power at your fingertips this time around, and you you’re your wicked smile through your hair, too absorbed in your own feelings that you don’t register Sukuna’s worried tone at first.

“So…do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” He doesn’t pry afterwards, just shoots you a curious look. Just moments ago, you were crying and feeling like you’re on the verge of breaking down, but this adrenaline rushing through absolutely cannot fuck around anymore. The image of Megumi realizing he’s lost you is so exhilarating, and you twist your torso to face your roommate, grinning at his handsome features. He looks so delicious like this, black button up shirt left open at the top, his veiny, muscular arms driving one hand on the steering wheel and the other gently caressing your thigh. You suck in a deep breath, licking your lips as you purr, “Hey, Sukuna.”

“Yes?”

“Pull over.”

“Wait, why? We’re so close at home.”

“Pull over, I’m done,” you insist with a glare, although the animosity isn’t directed at him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on the road before he spares you a glance, smirking at how you’re already unclasping your bra from your seat.

“Oh, I see how it is. You’re going to use me as a stress reliever.”

At his words, your arms still behind you. You glance up at him with wide, worried eyes that immediately reach out for his hands in assurance. “N-No, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Usually, sex is a lot crazier when the other is angry. Use me as you will – I don’t really care,” he licks his lips and suddenly slams on the brakes under an empty parking lot, already flipping something in the engine. You’re taken aback as Sukuna discards his shirt in a second, his large arms carrying your frame to the backseat with him. Sukuna spreads your legs as he helps you get rid of your dress but it’s too tight that you just give up, leaving the material bunched under your boobs instead. Sukuna’s eyes darken at the lack of material under your dress, his fierce gaze shooting up to yours as he massages your inner thighs, his breath labored.

“What position do you want?”

“Fu-fuck, I don’t know, just fuck me,” you whine, spreading your legs farther to make space for him. He’s a tall guy with long limbs that he shrinks even with his fancy car, but he doesn’t seem bothered by it. Sukuna seems a lot more focused in fucking you in that moment because he’s unhooking his belt, diving down for one more kiss that is a lot heated and rushed than the previous one for show.

“I want to get rid of his face from my mind, I fucking hate him so much,” you can’t help but bite down on Sukuna’s lip, hard enough that it draws blood. Sukuna groans into your mouth, the sound so utterly deep and sexy you drip down on his seats even more.

“You’ll still go back to him after this?”

“No…it would be stupid if I did,” you roll your eyes.

“Good girl,” Sukuna praises as his lips leave a wet trail from your jaw down to the valley of your breasts. His smile is quickly replaced with a sinister grin, one of his hands cupping your breasts at the same time his teeth dart out to playfully nip at your breasts. He really shouldn’t look so enticing under you like this, and you’re so caught by his devilishness you fail to realize he’s already rummaging through your purse. “But I think lover boy still doesn’t get the message. We’re gonna have to punch it through his dumb skull.”

He hands you your phone, Megumi’s contact right before you.

“Sukuna, what’re you doing?”

“Call him,” Sukuna moves up to fish a condom out of his wallet and slides it to his already throbbing cock, chuckling at the way your eyes widen at his girth as if you hadn’t taken him before. “Call him and let him hear how I fuck you better, sweetheart. Boys like him won’t get the message unless you tell them directly.”

His hands clutch the backseat until his knuckles turn white, aligning himself with your entrance. You’re wet enough that he slides in easily and you moan loudly at the intrusion, pretty little gasps a sign of your pleasure. Helplessly, you grip at his bicep while your legs shake from how tense you are, the tantalizing movement of his hips pulling breathless moans from you. “And what better way than to take what’s his, right? What did he call this? His pretty pussy?” Sukuna scoffs, “Fuck that, stupid little boys can’t even fuck you right, don’t you think, sweetheart?”

“Ngh, Sukuna, that f-feels good, right there!”

“Right here?” he teases with a stroke of his cock that brushes against your tight walls. Sukuna’s face contort into pleasure when your tight pussy sucks him in, falling forward just to rasp in your ear. “Call him. Then, I’ll fuck you however you want me to.”

You don’t know how you’re able to swipe on Megumi, but he picks up in the speed of light like never before. Sukuna mouths loudspeaker and you follow his commands, Megumi’s voice booming through the sex-filled air of the car. “Where the fuck did you go? The party wasn’t over yet and you’re hanging out with some beefy, tattoed guy? It’s your roommate, isn’t it?” Megumi curses at someone before continuing, the aggravation evident in his tone. “He’s such a fucking creep, I swear if he lays his hands on you again I’ll—”

“You’ll do what, kid?” Sukuna challenges, “Oh and mind you, she’s the one who asked me to fuck her. As her concerned roommate and the more mature adult, I believe it’s my duty to listen to her complaints and make her feel better, especially when she keeps whining she’s not being fucked good.”

“Sukuna!” You whine and slap his arm, but you’re smiling, the pleasure and satisfaction of slapping Megumi this harshly making you feel greater than ever.

“Are you sleeping with her?” Megumi sounds like he’s losing his shit, and you sincerely hope he does. “Gosh, Y/N, how low can you be? I thought you were my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? Since when?” you attempt to scream, but Sukuna’s gripped your thighs and pulls your lower body closer to his cock in time to meet his thrusts. Your body slides off the seat and you’re left screaming Sukuna’s name, the latter wearing a shit-eating grin at the way you’re creaming around him. Somehow, your attention reverts back to Megumi’s whining. “You’re a fucking dick, Megumi, I honestly hope you choke on your small dick!” you shout and end the call, slapping your hand on your face as you throw your phone away. “I hated saying that.”

“Because you still like him or…?”

“No, because he was actually a good fuck and his dick is huge,” you say through pants. Sukuna must’ve hated how you’re talking about Megumi’s dick when he’s literally rearranging your insides, and Sukuna grabs your leg, manhandling you into the position he likes. You’re immediately on your knees with your back flat to his chest, your arms locked between your bodies as Sukuna takes you from behind. Your head falls back to his shoulders where Sukuna leaves messy open-mouthed kisses to your sweaty skin. “I fucking hate him. He’s such an asshole.”

“Hmm, well don’t spend too much energy thinking about him anymore,” Sukuna snarls at your skin, releasing your hands just to rub at your swollen clit. “Just let loose and let me take care of you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t even remember meeting him.”

The honest side of you wants to moan, the familiar tightening of your abdomen appearing already. He’s hitting all your sensitive spots that you can barely think, only feel, but you also feel so powerful and enraged that you cup Sukuna’s cheek, narrowing your eyes at him. You hit his thrusts by pushing back against his cock that causes him to slide in deeper, the large man groaning deep within his chest.

“You sure about that?”

“Oh, hundred percent confident, baby.”

“Let’s see what you got then,” you teased him. Pretending you’re not seconds away from coming is an even bigger challenge than leaving Megumi, but for the sake of riling up Sukuna, you would do it.

“You’re challenging me?”

“If I don’t cum at least twice, then that’s going to be a damn shame.”

“Twice? That’s not even the minimum,” he shakes his head tauntingly at you, increasing his pace until the sounds of his balls smacking your ass and both your groans are filling the dead silent night. It’s so lewd and dirty that your tongue lols out from the pleasure, eyes shut tight because you’re close, so fucking close! “You’re going to lose your fucking mind,” Sukuna said as a final warning.

You didn’t think too much of it until he pulls out of you seconds before you came. The crestfallen look written all over your face makes him laugh, but Sukuna only turns your body and goes down on his knees, hitching your legs over his shoulders. Your chest falls up and down as he dives down to your sopping, abused cunt, hands threading through his hair before he rudely flicks it away. “No. Hands to yourself. You’re not allowed to touch me,” he hissed, but his roughness is softened only by a little bit when you whimper so sweetly for him. “Don’t pout, sweetheart, you’ll get your chance when we get home. For now, since you’d so rudely woke me up and left me without inviting me for dinner, I’m starving.”

Sukuna dips between your thighs, tongue poking out to take the first taste of your juices. Your reaction is instantaneous and gratifying; head thrown back, nails dug into the seats, legs quivering and falling open wider to welcome the warm, wet muscle that licks flat from your entrance up to your clit.

“Fuuckk, Sukuna, slow down, ngh—”

“He ever ate you out this way?”

“No, I don’t know, I don’t know.”

“Can you take it, sweetheart? Should I stop?” You know he’s teasing you, the sniggers muffled from your pussy lips are still heard but you can’t fight back, not when your legs turn to jelly at his ministrations.

“Keep going, fuck, please, I will slap you if you don’t make me cum tonight,” you threaten, and Sukuna smartly responds by sucking your clit into his mouth. He rolls it between his teeth, careful enough not to hurt you while plunging two fingers deep inside you, curling it into a come-hither motion that stretches you pleasurably. “Too, oh, shit!”

“You can’t even talk properly,” he chuckles, and the vibrations that come afterwards shatter your entire world. “And this is just my tongue. Feels too good?”

“Yes, yes, too good!” you cry out, “Sukuna, em coming!”

Your orgasm has no build-up whatsoever. You lay there panting with a silent scream as your nails scratch against his seats, toes curled as it comes down into you in one, hard slap. Sukuna hums as he licks up the arousal trailing down your pussy to not make even more of a mess. “Already? I haven’t even started yet,” he sighs sarcastically, “Don’t think I’m done with you. I did say you’d lose your mind, right?”

Sukuna has now joined you on the seats, flipping you to the side where he hooks one leg under his arm, your other leg extended to your side that remains flushed at the seats, his thighs squishing yours. It’s utterly challenging to move in this position and you’re completely at his mercy, the sight of his tall, dominating figure above you forcing you back into a submissive space. He doesn’t give you much time to recover before his cock is pushing past your pussy once more, bottoming out in one, swift thrust.

“’Kuna, too sensitive, mhhm—”

“You’ll take it,” he breathes out while peppering kisses at your ankle, “Come on, you’re a good girl, yeah? Give me one more.”

“Su-kuna, it’s too much!”

“Just one more.” Sukuna elicits moans from you the harder he thrusts, leaning forward until you’re crying out from the stretch of all the muscles in your body. He’s being nice today by letting you cum more than twice in the exchange of holding back his, because he’s absolutely throbbing inside you. He picks up a rougher pace from where he left off, saying your name through gritted teeth as you tighten around him. You’re squealing and whimpering from behind your fists, overly sensitive still from your previous orgasm.

His hips roll in such a mind-numbing manner before Sukuna rams into you utterly deep, your bodies flushed so close you can feel the heat pulsing from his skin. Sukuna tenses above you before he brings you to your orgasm, with him following not long afterwards.

Sukuna pulls out with a groan and ties his condom in a knot, discarding it above his clothes. Upon hearing your soft sighs, he immediately rushes your side and pats your cheek to wake you up. “Hey, look at me,” he commands, though his voice is gentle and soft. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out through fluttering lashes, “Yeah, I’m just tired,” extending your arms to him, you wrap your legs around his waist to bring him close. “Come here. Want cuddles.”

Sukuna gives in to your request for a few minutes and stays wrapped up with you. It’s perfect to be in this state, to be held so close and not just touched, the intimacy of it all bringing about unfamiliar warmth that only ever makes itself present when he’s here. “As much as I want to stay like this, we’re sweaty and sticky,” Sukuna murmurs through your hair, his hands roaming all over your skin. There’s no other sexual meaning behind it even as his rough palms graze past your mound. His touches are more like him exploring your body out of curiosity, out of the desire to just have you this close. You’re unsure what to feel about it and your mind is uncannily clear after an orgasm, but Sukuna’s already sitting up with you above him before you could ponder about it any longer. “Let me take you home first, then we’ll cuddle. What do you think?”

“Oh fuck,” you cut him off upon seeing the flashing of your screen. “It’s Megumi. Fifteen missed calls.”

“Lover boy is crazy,” Sukuna snickered behind you.

“Good thing I’m crazier,” you shut your phone off and throw it to the passenger’s seat, beaming up at Sukuna and giving him the puppy eyes from behind your shoulder. “Can we get milkshakes on the way?”

“I think you got enough milk.”

“Sukuna!”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” he raises his hands in surrender. You pout until you feel something hard and wet poking your bottoms, and Sukuna smirks, gesturing to his erection that you haven’t noticed. “You do know that I’m still hard, right? I’ll fuck you again when we get home.”

“You could’ve just let me suck you off.”

“Nah,” he refuses, “I want to feel you come around me,” Sukuna cockily winks at you, and your mouth falls open, gasping in disbelief at how vulgar he could be. He steals a quick kiss then as he tugs his pants up, the sight of him rolling his sleeves back up to his elbows thoroughly…compelling that you’re left salivating at the ripples of his muscles. “I’ll just wait ‘til we get home. Right now, I need to treat someone like a princess and get her some food.”

“You should stop saying that,” you blurt out defensively, “Sweet lies won’t get you anywhere.”

“I wasn’t lying about anything. I meant every word I said.”

The tension thickens in an instant. Sukuna looks at you warily – or perhaps worriedly? – before he situates himself back in the driver’s seat, starting the car right after you’ve fixed your appearance. Considering it’s already late, he’s struggling to find any restaurant or diners open to appease your cravings, though he doesn’t complain about it.

You fiddle with your hands on your lap, unable to find a proper explanation to his behavior. “Sukuna…” you start off nervously, refusing to look him in the eye. “Do you uhm…do you like me?”

“What kind of question is that, sweetheart?”

“I meant…maybe you just like me for my body, you know?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, sweetheart,” he tilts his head towards you, “I’m too old for drama and playing with people’s feelings. Like I said, the cards are all in your hands now. If you want us to just have casual sex, I don’t mind, but if you also want to be, uhm…” Sukuna awkwardly rubs at the back of his head with a clear of his throat, the tables turned because now he’s the one who can’t meet your gaze. “…something more, then I won’t refuse that either. I’m up to whatever you want to do.”

“And if I said that…maybe I’m considering getting to know you better?”

“Then maybe I would happily say yes.”

You smile at how easily he lightens up the mood, feeling a smile already playing on your lips as you giggle. “Just a maybe?”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” he groans, averting his eyes from the road (it’s empty anyway) to get a quick peck. You whack his arm and his laugh only grows louder; he knows you’re not really angry, because he kisses really good and you like it a lot more than you’ll admit.

“I’ll be a hundred times of a better boyfriend than what you’d expect.”

“You’re really confident, huh?”

“Oh, I’m confident I can treat you well,” he nods proudly, head tipping back to the backseat. “I did just let you ruin my leather exterior and let you walk away while I have a raging boner. Do you have any idea how much self restraint a man has to have to let that happen?”

“Probably an immaculate one. Megumi would never let me go unless he’s came.”

“Yeah, well, fuck that guy,” Sukuna doesn’t even bother to try and hide his hatred for your former crush, and you’re smiling like a lovesick fool on the seat. “You’re with me now. So, since I want to spoil you, how many milkshakes do you want?”

Back then, you were always too addicted to lies that seemed so sweet that you couldn’t be able to stop. But now that you’ve met Sukuna, perhaps the blissful truth is a lot sweeter, and it’s a much healthier addiction you’ll take any day.

taglist: @thesimpsclub @uwubby-1 @expectoscamander @your-consulting-fangirl @dora-the-grownup @cosmotoic @charlie-xo @kittaliapenn @sukunas-cult-leader @flowersgirl02 @cloudsinthecosmos @90s-belladonna @averysheart-raleighsdick @generousstudentpsychic-bat @kat-su-ki @issamomma @sklycan​ @ggsmashgg​ @dora-the-grownup​ @ninefuckingoneone​ @ambiguous-something​ 

[wearepurplejackets]

❌ Incorrect Tokyo Manji~❌

*Meanwhile, in another parallel world between dimensions*

Bonten Mikey: Okay guys, silence, the 242nd meeting of the Mikeys is inaugurated.

Small Mikey, in high-pitched voice: Hi.

Manila Mikey, *seductively*: Hey~

Teenager Mikey *mouth full*: Fhi!!

First future Mikey *taking off his gloves*: C'mon, let's do this. I have like three traitors to kill tonight.

Bonten Mikey: You greaser talk a lot for a guy who still works with *pretends to vomit* Kisaki.

First future Mikey: Oh, we are gonna go that way, eh? Who make you the leader exactly?

Bonten Mikey: Well, myself. I'm the oldest one so, get your head out of your ass, if you know how to.

Manila and Teenager Mikey: Boom!!

First future Mikey: So you put bleach in your head and now you are Gandalf or whatever??

Small Mikey: hahaha!

First Future Mikey: And you should not laugh so much, Small. You are the reason we are all here again wasting our precious time to keep destroying our lives, gOD!

Small Mikey *in even higher-pitched voice*: What? Me?? wHAT???

Teenager Mikey: Yeah, the airplane toy incident was actually... pretty out of context if you ask me *Opens like his twelfth melon bread* Didn't expect that coming from you, little bean.

First future Mikey: Seriously, Teen, can you please stop eating for like AN ENTIRE SECOND?!?!

Teenager Mikey: I CAN'T! Geezer, let me be! I'm growing!

Bonten Mikey: No, you are not.

Manila Mikey: Assume we are not really tall. That's why I killed everyone who was taller than me...

Everyone: Yes, yes, we know...

Manila Mikey: I'm sad.

Everyone: We know, Manila.

Bonten Mikey: Anyway, I don't like First future like you all do too, but for once... *Sighs* he is right.

First future Mikey: Well at least you have a brain in there. Not for choosing a nice haircut or a tattoo tho, but-

Bonten Mikey *rolling eyes*: Yeah, yeah, whatever. You have something to say about the airplane, Small??

Small Mikey *puffing out cheeks*: Oe! Don't blame me! I just knew that last week, just like you all! I didn't know sh*t!

Manila Mikey: It's true, he only sleeps all the time.

Small Mikey: Oe. At least I don't look like a "Toy boy".

Teenager Mikey: Wooooooo!!

Bonten Mikey: Who taught you that?? It was Small Baji?? It was him, right??

Manila Mikey: Kid, I'm gonna ground you. Literally. Three meters under it...

First future Mikey: God, you are all so messed up!

Teenager Mikey: Yes, because you are totally a role model to follow...

First Future Mikey: Oh, sorry. Aren't you like isolating yourself from your friends and having depression now?

Manila Mikey: Oh, depression... That's why I killed everyone. But mostly because they were taller than me.

Everyone: We KNOW, Manila...

Manila Mikey: That's why I left Takemitchy tho. *Wink, wink*

Bonten Mikey: Okay... Btw, where is Kanto Mikey? He has missed the last few meetings. I hope he's doing something important.

Manila Mikey: I think Kanto is busy, you know, f*cking everything up til the end and all that sh*t.

Teenager Mikey: Oh, well I hope he fails miserably, *takes a dorayaki into his mouth* brutally.

Manila Mikey: Wow, dude. And I'm the savage one.

Teenager Mikey: I'm sorry but I'm gone for like, what? Two season?? And everyone think they can do my job! Even a f*cking zombie!

First future Mikey: Well if you just-

Bonten Mikey: Well if you just made a f*cking decision right(?!)

First future Mikey: I... wtf. Bon-bon, chill. My heart skipped a beat.

Small Mikey: Gross.

Manila Mikey: It shows he is the honest one. *Smiles* Not like the people I killed...

Teenager Mikey: That's rude, Bonten... But I forgive you, it must be hard not to sleep in like a trillion years.

Bonten Mikey: And who's fault it is?? I got dark circles under my DARK CIRCLES!

Small Mikey: Actually, I think is called "Dark Impulses".

First future Mikey: I'm having the Dark Impulse to kill you all right now.

Teenager Mikey *jumping on the table*: Come and try, old man. If you have guts!

Manila Mikey: Ah, c'mon stop it already... I really hate when we argue so much... That's why I killed everyone who could talk...

Everyone: We know, Manila... WE KNOW!!

[kiyosamu]

remember.

----♡----

pairing: rintaro suna x female reader.

genre: yandere, dark, light romance. // one shot, 4k words.

synopsis: abusive relationships can seem impossible to leave. when you open up to a classmate, your life takes a dramatic turn in the best and worst ways imaginable.

content warnings: assault, domestic abuse (not from suna), descriptions of violence, yandere themes.

----♡----

“hey, kid.” suna’s voice caught your attention as you passed by him in the university corridor. he was quiet, only speaking loud enough for you to hear right as you were walking by.

“hey, rintaro.” you stopped for a moment, refusing to look up at the tall man towering over you.

“i haven’t seen you in a while. everything okay?” he leaned against the wall and clutched a textbook to his chest. “you haven’t even been to class. kinda been missing my project partner.”

“you got my work though, right?” you asked him, partially covering your face with your hair. “i emailed it to you.”

“i did.”

“okay… good.” you cleared your throat, awkwardly shuffling and offering a suspiciously sudden goodbye.

“hey, wait-" suna grabbed your wrist to keep you from leaving. the small amount of pressure more than enough on your deep bruise to make you wince.

suna noticed your pained expression and immediately let go, stepping back.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to hurt you. i just wanted to ask you if-“

“it’s okay!” you interrupted, knowing you’d already spoken to him for too long. you needed to get out of there before anyone noticed. “you didn’t hurt me. sorry, i have to go. bye!”

your behaviour was erratic. your speech was rushed; forced and strained with every word as you tried your best to appear normal.

unfortunately it was much harder to pretend everything was okay than you’d originally thought it’d be.

you quickly turned and headed down the hallway to drop off the assignments to your other professor. the last one you’d have to see for the day before heading home. you were almost there. so close you might not even run into him.

you’d hoped, anyway.

----♡----

after seeing your professor, you walked out into the fresh evening air. the cold stinging your cheeks and the wind pushing your hair out of your face.

your cheeks burned from the freezing air, but it was your black eye was that hurt the most.

“i’m sorry, i just lost my temper.” his words echoed in your head, “you shouldn’t have pissed me off.”

you nodded, essentially agreeing with him. it’s true, if he didn’t get mad, he wouldn’t have hit you. and why was he mad? because of something you did. so really, it was your own fault.

you were the one apologizing to him that night. doing anything you could to make it up to him. all of this with a deep purple bruise forming on your face.

when he finally left your dorm and went back to his, you were mentally exhausted. you fell asleep and woke up right before your second class of the day.

he had started forcing you to miss classes, to do everything at home and only go in to submit your work. this was for two reasons.

the first, you could spend more time with him due to your schedules. if yours was freed then you’d have more time together.

the second was to stop you from talking to other men. completely.

...and then he found out suna was your lab partner.

“i don’t want you working with him.”

“i have to. the professor is the one who chooses.”

“then work from home and submit the stuff online. that guy is a manipulator. he’s dangerous and will take advantage of you. i just know it.”

you’d never gotten that type of vibe from suna, but you obeyed your boyfriend because you didn’t want to know what would happen if you didn’t.

secretly, though, you missed class. you missed working with him. laughing, getting to know each other. he’d become a good friend over the past year and since you had the same majors, you two shared quite a few classes.

he was calm. funny and quiet, but definitely not timid. his energy made him come off tough, but not scary. if anything, he made you feel… safe.

just for those few hours you had together.

and whenever class would end, you found yourself missing that feeling.

----♡----

“i have to go to class tomorrow.” you said, refusing to make eye contact with your boyfriend who’d invited himself over to your dorm.

just like he does every. single. night.

“why? you gonna go talk to that suna guy?” he approached you, giving you a terrifying smile that you know wasn’t coming from a place of happiness.

“yuji… please.” your words were barely a whisper when you felt his fingers wrap around your throat. “my professor told me i need to start going. my grades are falling behind.”

his fingers tapped rhythmically against your skin. dancing skillfully as he toyed with the idea of choking you. you held your breath, expecting the worst.

“you should try harder.” he growled, digging his fingertips into your neck and you clenched your eyes closed. “get your grades back up so you don’t have to spend any more time with that guy.”

“okay, okay!” you grabbed onto his wrist and his eyes widened. “i will! i’ll get my grades up so i don’t need to see him anymore.”

“good girl.” he smiled, the evil expression he’d previously worn had melted away into a false image of a kind man. “always listening so well for me.”

yuji leaned in and kissed you. you kissed back, barely, but just enough for him to be satisfied and leave you alone.

“time for me to go.” he sighed as he heard the dorm advisor do a final walk through to knock on the doors and let the students know it was time for guests to leave.

“see you tomorrow?” he asked, tilting your chin up to look at him.

“sure…” you whispered. you trembled under his touch and wanted nothing more than for him to leave your sight.

“good. it’s a date.” he said happily and gave you another kiss, practically skipping down the hallway back to his own room.

you shut and locked your door, desperately wishing that was the last time you’d ever have to see him.

----♡----

“well, well, well.” suna cooed as you took your seat next to him. “as i live and breathe, i never thought i’d see the day. you finally made it to class.”

you nodded and pulled out your books.

“had to. my grades are slipping.” you sighed, looking around at the science classroom. “what are we doing today?”

“lab day.” suna said as he nudged an instruction sheet towards you. “should we put on our coats and get to it?”

“okay...”

you started to have an internal panic attack. your wrists were as bruised as the black eye you were hiding behind your hair.

suna stepped away to get your lab coats.

this would all be visible, and you didn’t want suna (or anyone) to see any of it.

you nervously approached your professor and she looked up at you with a disinterested stare.

“ma’am, i need to be excused from class today.”

“absolutely not.” she scoffed, “unless you want to fail my class, which i know you can’t afford to do, you’ll stay and do your lab.”

you opened your mouth to reply but she kept speaking.

“go put up your hair, roll up your sleeves and get your lab coat on. you should be thankful you have such a competent partner.” she crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair, “actually, i think the two of you should spend some time together. he’s my top student and you definitely need some tutoring.”

“i don’t think that’s necessary-“

“mr. suna, come up here please.”

suna walked up with a confused look, unsure as to why he was being brought in to the conversation.

“something i can help with?” he asked.

“yes,” the professor smiled, “i’d like the two of you to do tutoring sessions a minimum of twice a week, an hour each time. could you do that?”

“oh, sure. i don’t mind.” he smiled, “was that all? we should get to our assignment.”

you felt backed in to a wall. of course you were okay with this, you enjoyed spending time with suna.

unfortunately, you were terrified of the repercussions.

even worse, there was nothing you could do about it.

when you got back to your table, you put your hair up and silently thought of a plan. keep your head down, don’t make eye contact. maybe he wouldn’t notice.

you rolled up your sleeves and put on your white coat. it was barely long enough to hit your wrists, but did a decent job of hiding the bruises.

the first half of the lab went well. suna explained things in a way that made it easy to comprehend and you were genuinely enjoying yourself.

until you completely forgot.

you began to pour the green liquid into the tube. suna was writing his lab report when he looked up and noticed your mistake.

“oh, hey,” he stood up, putting his hand over yours to tilt the container back up. “you need to pour it slower, like this.”

when it started to pour just as he’d wanted, he let go and you found yourself missing the brief comfort of his touch.

“good job! you did it.” suna smiled and you looked up at him with an excited expression. finally. finally you were getting something right.

when the two of you made eye contact, his smile immediately dropped into a look of concern.

“what happened to your eye?”

“oh,” you stepped back, covering it with your hand. “i fell.”

suna carefully held onto your wrist and you winced in pain. his intentions were to move your hand away from your eye, but he took immediate notice of your reaction and pushed your sleeve down.

the bruises in the shape of fingerprints stained your skin a deep purple.

“what about here?” he stepped closer. you tried to read his expression but he looked completely emotionless.

“from the same fall, i’m just clumsy.”

“and your neck?”

suna pushed back your lab coat to see the same fingerprint bruises scattered around your neck.

you were suddenly thankful you’d chosen the table in the far back end of the classroom. nobody was ever watching.

“yeah.” you said, practically a whisper. “i’m just really clumsy.”

suna leaned down and looked into your eyes.

“why don’t i believe you?”

“five more minutes!” the professor called, interrupting your intense conversation and the two of you snapped back into action.

you finished your lab report and quickly packed up your stuff before rushing out the classroom door.

suna followed closely behind.

“it’s your boyfriend, isn’t it?”

you stopped dead in your tracks and turned around to look at him. suna’s expression was no longer emotionless. he was angry.

“okay,” you sighed, grabbing his wrist to pull him to a secluded space outside. the two of you sat down under a large tree, away from everyone else.

“yuji gets upset with me and… hurts me… sometimes.” you choked out. “i haven’t told anyone because i’m scared of what he’ll do to me. i haven’t left him because i’m scared of him. i’m stuck.”

you hadn’t said these words out loud to anyone, ever, and the way they were flowing so freely had you crying before you were even aware of it.

“please don’t tell anyo-“

“i’ll take care of it.”

you looked up at him. suna looked completely calm, his voice smooth and gaze held on you.

“what do you mean?”

suna stood up and ran his hands through his hair.

“i mean i’ll take care of it.” he smiled, “see you tomorrow afternoon for tutoring?”

“wait, suna-“

“later!” he gave you a passive wave before walking back towards the university building.

----♡----

that evening you waited for yuji to come by your dorm, but he never did.

you waited for him to call you, but he didn’t.

you worried about what suna had meant. maybe he was going to talk to him, maybe even threaten him. you’d hoped he wouldn’t do that, but you really didn’t know what he was capable of.

surely the rumours about him couldn’t be true. an honour's chemistry major being involved in a more sinister, underground group that nobody even knew if it was real or made up?

he was too nice. there was no way.

----♡----

after class you headed back to your dorm to get ready for your evening. suna had asked you to meet him under the same tree from the day before. around 7pm.

you debated on calling yuji, but ultimately decided against it. maybe he’d come to his senses. maybe he was remorseful, and just wanted to move on. to leave you alone and pretend your relationship never happened.

that was what you wished for the most.

----♡----

you stepped out into the cold evening air. the wind blowing softly and brushing the hair out of your face.

you clutched your books to your chest and took a short cut through the back fields separating the dorms from the main university campus.

you checked your phone, you were early. suna would be there in about 15 minutes.

you reached down to grab your phone when it was immediately snatched from your hands.

“you did this, didn’t you?” a familiar voice snapped at you. you glanced up to see yuji, sporting a similar black eye and a bandaged cut on his cheek.

“i- no, of course not!”

he rolled his eyes at your reply, clearly not willing to listen to a word you were saying. yuji grabbed your wrists, forcing you to drop your books and pushed you against the back wall of the university.

“you did. tell me right now. everything you said. who you said it to. and why.” the look in his eyes was horrifying. scarier than any other look he’s given you before.

this made it seem like his previous bouts of anger were nothing but minor inconveniences.

“i didn’t-“

yuji pulled back, immediately hitting your chin with a hard punch that knocked your head back into the concrete wall.

“try again.”

your vision was hazy. mind blurring memories together and you couldn’t even form a proper sentence.

you felt a warm, wet sensation cascading down the back of your neck and were immediately soothed by the feeling. the warmth was comfortable, even though you didn’t know what it was from.

yuji’s hand wrapped around your throat and he pressed his forehead to yours. his fingers dug roughly into your windpipe, causing you to choke out the remaining air in your lungs. you felt yourself get sleepy, closing your eyes and letting darkness overtake you as your body went limp.

----♡----

“hey, wake up.”

snapping fingers in your face had you looking around curiously. you couldn’t focus on your surroundings. it was unclear who was with you, unclear what was happening around you, and unclear why you were there.

the sounds of multiple men. grunting, panting. speaking quietly between deep breaths and harsh exertion.

what were they doing?

“hey.” the fingers snapped in front of your face again.

“what…” was all you could manage to say. your body felt heavy. weak. you were just so tired. all you wanted to do was fall asleep. you submitted to the exhaustion, closing your eyes again.

“don’t go to sleep.” a soothing voice lifted the back of your neck, pressing something soft against your head. “stay awake and listen to me.”

“ya like beatin’ up girls, huh?”

whack

“wanna put a girl half your size in the hospital, for what? to feel like more of a man?”

whack

“a real man would never hit a woman.”

whack

“a real man would beat the shit out of losers who do hit women, right ‘tsum?”

“right. maybe we’ll even put him in the hospital.”

whack

whack

“oh, he’s gonna be there once we’re done.”

you finally recognized the last voice. it was suna.

he spoke again, his voice raspy and dark but still audible from where you were.

“i hope to fucking god you didn’t hurt her so badly that she’s knocked out…” suna trailed off and let out a small chuckle. “because there’s nothing i want more than for her to hear you cry like a little bitch when this blade goes right…”

the sound of yuji’s sudden scream was immediately muffled by what you were sure was the hand of the other man.

“…through you.”

your eyes widened and you were starting to understand what was happening.

all you could feel around you was danger.

you started to hyperventilate. panic was taking over.

“focus on me. come on, we need to get out of here.”

“who…” your head started to hurt now. badly.

“my name is osamu.” he bent down and cradled you in his arms, bringing you close to his chest and picking you up bridal style. “hold on to me if you can.”

“i’m scared…” you whispered.

“i know.” he murmured, carrying you away from the scene and back through the field. “i’ll keep you safe. we need to go to the hospital.”

“what about…”

“the only thing you need to worry about is stayin’ awake right now, okay? it’ll all be okay.” osamu’s voice was soothing. his body was warm and his strong arms supported your body in a way that made you never want to leave his hold.

you gave him a weak nod. even if you wanted to get away, you couldn’t. so you decided to trust in this man and hope for the best.

----♡----

“hey, sweetheart.” the calm voice of a nurse slowly woke you up. “you’re finally awake.”

“where…” you choked out, your throat was dry and you could barely make out where you were. it was all so… confusing.

“you’re in the hospital.” she said as she stood on her tiptoes to change the fluids on your iv pole. “you were assaulted. your injuries aren’t good but you’ll make a full recovery.”

the nurse leaned back down and held onto your hand. “you have a real knight in shining armour, you know. your boyfriend hasn’t left your side since you were admitted. he’s going to be so happy when he finds out you woke up.”

boyfriend?

your heart started to race at the thought of yuji coming in. you looked around, preparing for the worst when you heard footsteps enter the room.

“hey, sleepyhead.”

“speak of the devil.” the nurse smiled, giving your hand a squeeze. “i’ll let you two have some privacy. please press the call button if you need anything, i’ll come back and check on you soon.”

the footsteps grew closer and you heard the squeak of a chair being pulled up next to your bed. you opened your eyes to see suna giving you a compassionate smile.

“rintaro?” you whispered, “what are you doing here?”

“making sure you’re okay.” he crossed his arms, “been here since you were admitted.”

you tried your hardest to remember even coming to the hospital, but you just couldn’t. everything was gone after your head hit that wall.

“what… happened?” you asked, your eyes pleading for him to be honest.

“someone attacked you and your boyfriend.” suna leaned in, “do you not remember anything?”

“i remember yuji being upset with me…” you blinked, your mind working as hard as it could to remember something of importance. “my head hit the wall and it’s kind of fuzzy after that.”

“i see.” suna nodded.

“wait, how did you know i was in here?”

“some people mentioned an attack on campus. i got worried when you were late for our study session, and when your phone rang and you didn’t answer i felt like something was up.” he shrugged, taking a moment to think of his next words. “i called the hospital and asked if you were here, and then came right over when they confirmed it.”

“oh. okay…” you went to scratch an itch on your scalp and were met with searing pain at the slightest bit of pressure. “ow!”

“careful.” he smiled, taking your hand away from your head. “it’s gonna be sore for a while.”

“yeah…” you trailed off, trying to make sense of the situation. “what happened to yuji?”

“why do you care?”

“huh?” you glanced at suna who’s expression had turned sour.

“why do you care about what happened to him? he could've killed you.”

“i just wanted to know if he…” your voice was shaky and you tried to compose yourself. “if there was a possibility of him coming after me again.”

“not a single chance.” suna leaned over the railing of the hospital bed and took your hand. “besides, even if there was, i won’t let anything happen to you.”

----♡----

you’d found out yuji had suffered from severe injuries almost taking his life. he was beaten, stabbed, and his spinal cord suffered so much damage he was permanently paralyzed from the waist down.

while you were relieved the abuse would be over, you constantly wondered who had assaulted him.

you remembered telling suna and him saying he’d take care of it, surely that wasn’t him, right? there was no way suna could do something like that.

----♡----

months went by while you recovered from your injuries. you’d been discharged from the hospital after 3 weeks, and suna had stuck by your side every day.

“i’m happy to say you’ve essentially made a full recovery.” the doctor smiled, shaking your hand. “i’m so proud of your progress. you’re truly a walking miracle.”

“what about my memory?” you asked, “when will i remember what happened?”

“oh, you might not ever remember. you hit your head hard and from what we gather, you were unconscious.” the doctor stood up, clutching his clip board before walking out. “it’s probably for the best that you don’t remember what happened. you should focus on moving on, now. take care.”

----♡----

“well, should we celebrate?” suna asked as you walked out of the hospital together. you stopped, causing him to turn and look down at you. “what’s up?”

“i just wanted to say thank you…” you said, feeling your face getting hot. “i don’t think i could’ve done this without you.”

“you could’ve. you’re the strongest person i’ve ever met.” he leaned down, brushing the hair out of your face. the same hair that used to cover the deep bruises, now showing your true complexion. “and the most beautiful.”

you felt your heart flutter at his sudden compliment. suna’s hands found your waist and you instinctively draped your arms over his shoulders.

“you really mean that?” you asked, looking into his eyes.

“of course i do.” he smiled, leaning in to give you the long awaited kiss the two of you had been dying for. his lips were soft and you melted into his arms. he pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “beautiful in every possible way.”

you felt tears well up as you were being complimented. the sweetest, kindest, most handsome man touching you so delicately and speaking to you with nothing but respect.

you'd completely fallen in love with him, and it was everything you ever could’ve asked for.

----♡----

a few weeks after the two of you made it official, your honeymoon phase was in full force. you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. you were experiencing your first true relationship that made you feel loved and you cherished at every moment.

one evening, you decided to go to suna’s dorm to surprise him.

knock knock

“rintaro?” you called out, opening the door to let yourself in. “are you home?”

“in here, baby.” he replied from the kitchen. he was sharing an apartment style dorm with two other men, but you hadn’t met them yet. they weren’t ever there when you were.

“we finally get to meet your girl, huh?” one of them cooed as you walked in. he had dyed blonde hair and smirked at you as you walked by. “damn, she’s a looker, huh ‘samu?”

samu… why did that sound familiar?

“don’t be such a pig.” the other boy replied. you realized they were twins when he stood up and walked over to you. he smiled, holding out his hand. “nice to meet ya, i’m osamu.”

osamu.

no.

“my name is osamu…”

it couldn’t be.

“…hold on to me if you can.”

no, no, no.

the memories of the night of the assault came flooding back to you.

it only took a moment to realize...

...it wasn’t a random assault at all.

[winged-deity]

hiii, idk if your requests are open if they arent feel free to ignore, but if possible could you please do Wilburs younger sister x dream? like where they sneak out to meet up during the war at midnight, and do cute things like steal glances and all that? just cute things and hugs maybe a few butterfly kisses and pecks? if u aint comfortable writing that just skip, but ye have a good day:)) its 2:30am so imma sleep now

Hello! Thank you so much for the request, and hope you enjoy this, get plenty of sleep and water my dear deities🌱

Beautiful, Beloved

Dream x Fem!Reader

It was time, the chime of the L'manburgs bell struck midnight, your heart fluttered with excitement. You jumped out of bed and pulled your jacket over your shoulders in the darkness, you then tried your hardest to keep quiet when you snuck down the stairs.

You were met with the hunched-down form of your big brother sprawled across his work desk, it was filled with war plans and defenses for the walls that seemed all but enjoyable to you.

You grabbed a blanket from the couch and carefully wrapped it around Wilburs shoulders, you could see his chest heaving with every breath he took, this was one of the few times he actually looked peaceful.

He definitely deserved the rest, he was always working his hardest, sacrificing everything for his country, our country.

But now wasn't the time to think about L'manburg, you had waited for this particular night for days on end. You were going to see him.

The nonstop fighting hurt, literally but also mentally. You didn't want to hurt your....best friend- I suppose, you weren't sure if he felt the same way yet. But tonight, you didn't have to fight or even think about your country. Tonight it was just you and him.

You ran through the flower fields, seeing a familiar tree in the distance- that was your meeting spot, you could already see him waiting there. Excitement allowed you to run even faster than before, and before long you were already jumping into his arms.

"Dream!" You laughed happily while he spun you around in his arms.

"[Name]!" He shouted back with just as much enthusiasm, holding you in a tight hug before putting you down gently. He then sat down in the grass, patting the spot next to him, you took his offer and sat down.

You were sitting in comfortable silence while looking at the stars above, you pretended to not notice Dream who was actually looking at you instead of the stars. You could feel slight blush dust your cheeks, turning to him.

As if caught red-handed he turned red in the face, quickly turning away "i-i uh-..sorry, didn't mean to stare..." he stuttered out, it was quite funny to see the leader of the SMP so flustered just because he was caught staring at you, it made you cackle a bit.

This seemed to make him even more embarrassed as he let out a nervous laugh before turning away, you then followed him scooting closer until your shoulders were touching.

He quickly turned back to face you, searching your face carefully before gently placing one hand on your cheek. You smiled at him, leaning your face more to his hand which made him smile right back at you.

You two spent a moment just staring into each other's eyes, you searched his emerald ones, they seemed to almost pull you in.

After a short while, Dream finally moved closer and gently laid a soft kiss against your lips. After pulling away he wrapped his arms around you, as you buried your face in his chest. Hiding your smile, an outsider would notice, but you two didn't, both of you were smiling like lovestruck idiots. And honestly, you guys kind of were.

He gently rubbed your arm in the chilling night, as you two cuddled closer. You liked this, a break from all the war and destruction, just you two, in the night while everyone else was asleep.

You're not sure how long you stayed like that, just huddled close to each other, could've been hours or just a few minutes, but after that heartwarming moment. You slowly tilted your head upwards and placed a gentle peck on his cheek, before quickly turning your head back into his chest, smiling like you just accomplished the biggest thing in your entire life.

You could see the sun slowly creeping its way up the horizon, that was your cue, you had to head back before your brother or even Tommy and Tubbo woke up. You two looked at each other with longing, before nodding as an agreement.

You then stood up and helped Dream up as well, you two embraced each other for one last moment before you had to go right back to fighting for the better of L'manburg and the rest of the SMP.

He gently kissed your head, before starting to walk you back to the distant walls of your country, your home.

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

Some fluffy romantic writing for all our beloved Dream simps <3 Hope you enjoyed this, I sure liked writing it.

-Deity

[nolpat0]

something like this | s. crosby

summary: sidney has always wanted someone like her and confess as much to her

wc: 1,573

warnings: mentions of hospital/injury, one sexual innuendo

The low, metronomic beeping of the monitor keeps a steady, consistent beat to the familiar, dulcet hum of a female voice. In his drugged, cloud nine-like haze, Sidney does his best imitation of a grin, the gloriously soothing tone of her words easing him out of his concern.

"Sid?" her whisper is followed by the warm press of her fingers against the skin of his upper arm, a sweet reminder of her unwavering support. "Are you awake?"

He is; but the boy fights the grin that is sure to give him away in order to keep the easy flow of her rambles going, enjoying her vivid stories and the giggle at the end of her words as she confesses the minuscule details of her day to him. She believes him to be fast asleep, for her words to be nothing but a useless hum, and he enjoys the unexpected imtimacy of the affectionate gesture.

"I see what you're doing," she speaks again, the edge of her words exploding into the melodic tumble of her soft laughter. However, she doesn't cease her talking. "I'll just keep talking and making a fool out of myself so you can pretend you're asleep."

Sidney can't help the glimmer of love that warms his hospital blanket-clad body, a small, tender smile tugging at the edges of his full lips, revealing himself. Her fingertips trail over the carved outline of his cheekbones and brush against his hair as he finally opens his coffee-colored eyes. He gives her a earnest smile, the edges of his eyes crinkling as his dark eyes travel over her face, his full, pink lips splitting open into a wide grin to reveal shining teeth. She mumbles a soft, calming greeting and caressed his cheek a second time with the tips of her fingertips.

“So you gonna fall asleep again so I can tell you what Mat did next?” She asks, the edges of her lips curled into a playful smirk as she teases him, fingers still running agaisnt the midnight strands of his short hair in a loving manner.

Sidney can’t help the gentle, genuine laugh that rumbles from his chest, his grip on the pale blue hospital blanket loosening as he lets his palm fall flat on the curve of her knee. He nods quickly, eager to keep hearing her soft speech and tease her back, “Yes of course. My bad.”

He doesn’t catch the small smile that lights up her face because his dark lashes are already falling flat agaisnt his faintly flushed cheeks. She doesn’t waste another second launching into a detailed discription of her colleague, Mat’s experience with a particularly awkward run in with their boss. As she gently lulled him farther into the comforting clutches of sleep, Sidney tried his very best to keep his facial expressions netural but failed quite badly, which propelled her further into making him laugh. As the tall hockey player felt sleep finally take him, he felt overwhelmed with the buzzing, delicious feeling of love. He was consumed by the complete love he held in his heart for the girl still talking and running her fingers through his hair. He was too deeply in love to even think properly. And Sidney loved every minute of it.

———

Sidney couldn’t feel the light press of her palm agaisnt his as the white lab coat clad doctor filled the couple in on his prognosis and what the steps leading them forward would look like, a detailed, and frankly terrifying process that would have Sidney recovering and ready to return on the ice in a month or so. His breath was strained through his lungs, his jaw dancing with a clenched muscle as he tried to reign in his fears and desire to lace up his skates without a practical thought about the nasty consequences. Sidney just wanted to return to the locker room and resume being captain, and knew the only way to that was through the plan the doctor was currently laying out. Which scared Sidney to his bones if he was allowed to be completely honest.

“Sid,” she called, eyes watching her boyfriend closely as the hospital room door clicked closed in the wake of the doctors exit. Nerves clung to her limbs but she shook them off in order to ease Sid and his tense posture. She tried again, more forcefully. “Sidney.”

His chin dips and he finally slides his cinnamon coloured eyes to lock onto hers, trying to mask his evident fears. But she knows him far too well to skip the flicker of fear shining in his irises or the slight quiver of nerves that shook his large hands. Instinctively, her palms slide over his, fingers knitting tightly with his in a subconscious attempt to ease his shaking.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she nods, refusing to break eye contact in order to get her confidence across. She could tell he was scared, as was she, but she understood that in the end, all would work out. And they would be ok.

“I know.” Sidney tries again, blatantly deflecting.

Her lips quirk into a soft, knowing smile, her eyes flickering up distractedly as she brushes his hair back from his forehead. She smiles deeper absentmindedly, a smile that Sidney adores with all his heart. He felt a tiny fraction of his terror fading away like ice thawing in his veins.

“You don’t have to act like you’re not worried, Sid.” her eyes dropped to hold his loving gaze, her lips set in a firm line. “You don’t have to always be the strong one. That’s what I’m here for.”

A tight breath eases from his lips as his eyes close lightly, his heart settling back into its former steady pace of calm at her carefully chosen words. He was grateful, for her presence and the pressure of her fingers in his and the weight of her words. He’d never experienced a love like hers, where she loved him wholly and unconditionally, allowing him to remove all his amored layers and bravado. He revealed his true self to her and she had only kissed him passionately and grinned like he’d given her the best gift she could receive, repeating her daily mantra of how much she loved him. Sidney had never felt more loved than he did at that moment. His heart swelled fondly at the memory, the edges of his lips turning up in a doting smile.

“Thank you,” he breathed, a little unsure of what exactly he was thanking her for, but the statement was truthful.

She responded with a light, fleeting kiss pressed to his temple, her palms reaching up to softly cup the sharp curve of his jaw. He waits with baited breath, but soon relaxes fully under her loving gaze content with just staring at her.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, the syllables falling softly from his chapped lips in a unintentional audible confession.

She blinks at the unguarded, genuine compliment she knows he must mean, when she’s been curled up in the uncomfortable hospital chair beside his bed for the past two days, sleepless nights smudged under her eyes and dressed in his old clothes. She feels the burn of her cheeks under his gaze and the compliment. Sidney catches the slight embarrassment and reaches out to brush his thumbs under her eyes. “You’re cute when you get flustered.”

She rolls her eyes in response, mouth curving into a mirthful grin.

“Yeah, yeah, why don’t you fall back asleep?”

Sidney reaches out and hooks his fingers the the belt loops of her jeans, pulling her closer and onto the narrow mattress, shifting his own body to accommodate hers. “Only if you sleep with me.” he replied, coffee coloured eyes gleaming with flirtatious mischief. His fingers don’t loosen their hold, instead going to grip her hips and pull her flush to his side, savouring the warmth radiating from her smaller figure now dwarfed by his size. She curls tightly to his side, fingers digging into the material of his shirt and leg falling over his as his palm cups the underside of her thigh before it gave away to her knee. She hums with a soft laughter, commenting that she’ll think about his desirous proposal, ignoring the fact they both knew she’d already complied. Sidney settled in with a long, adoration filled kiss to her hair that didn’t hold a drop of lust. He grins at the tired lilt to her voice as she mumbles softly into his thin shirt, the reverberations flowing through his chest. His fingertips smoothed over her hair as he breathed deeply, catching her familiar scent. “I love you so much.” Sidney whispered into the layers of her hair as she promptly fell asleep to the barley audible confession, meaning every syllable with his whole heart.

When her breathing has evened out, a soft almost imperceptible whistle of her breath as she falls into a deep, dream-less sleep upon his chest, fingers tightly curled in the material of his thin shirt, as if she can’t fathom letting him go, even in sleep, Sidney reveals his truest confession.

“I’ve always wanted to be loved by someone like you.” his words are hot and hit the top of her forehead before he kisses her skin. Sidney is quick to brush a stray eyelash from her cheek. “And now I have you. And I’m not letting you go.”

[genshin-impact-writings]

Could you do “Where did these bruises come from” from the prompt list with Childe please? Could it also be angsty but then turn into fluff if you don’t mind? Thanks in advance!

A/N: Hey dear! Thank you so much for your request. I'm terribly sorry for the long wait but I couldn't figure out where I wanted to go with this for a while, so I really hope you like how it turned out. Take care and have a nice day/night! :)

Prompt: "Where did these bruises come from?"

Warnings: mentions of violence & injuries

Black and Blue – Tartaglia/Childe x gn!reader

“(Y/N)?” a cheerful voice called, followed by the sound of the front door clicking shut. “I’m home!”

Your gaze flickered towards the clock above the dining table before you frantically searched for your cardigan that you had taken off just a few moments ago because it was way too warm today to wear a jacket.

“(Y/N)?” the voice called again. “Are you here?”

“Yes,” you replied breathlessly, still rummaging about the sofa, lifting every single decorative pillow to make sure that your cardigan wasn’t hidden underneath them. The sound of footsteps approaching the living area almost made your heart skip a beat, and you gasped for air, relieved when you caught a glimpse of black fabric behind one of the pillows. In one swift movement, you put on your cardigan and pulled the sleeves down, so that they hid your arms as well as the dark bruises that disfeatured your skin.

You closed your eyes and took another deep breath. The couch was a mess but it was easier to find an excuse for the pillows that were scattered around both the sofa and the floor than to explain why your entire body looked like you fell down at least two staircases. Maybe you could use that as an excuse if he ever asked about your injuries, you thought to yourself although you knew very well that he would never believe you. And you weren’t particularly happy about lying to him but in the end, lying would be better than telling the truth, at least in this case.

“There you are.”

You looked up, greeted by a soft smile that was exclusively reserved for you, and before you could even say something, Tartaglia was already by your side, pulling you into a tight hug, just like he always did when he came back home. Usually, you would wrap your arms around him too, maybe steal a kiss or two but today, all you could think about was the sharp pain that shot through your body as soon as his arms found their way around your shoulders and hips, gently squeezing you as he held you close.

After taking a deep breath, you pressed your lips together to stifle any sounds that tried to escape your throat before you finally raised your arms to hug him back. “Hi,” you whispered, desperately trying to ignore the pain that radiated from the bruises all over your body. It was hard to act like everything was fine when all you felt was the urge to cry out, not only because it hurt but also because the pain constantly reminded you of the things that had happened and the threat hidden behind their actions.

When Tartaglia pulled away from the hug, you quickly put on a smile, hoping that it would be enough to fool him. He always seemed to know when something was wrong but you hoped that he wouldn’t notice it today. You didn’t want to explain what had happened, why you decided to keep it a secret or how anxious and weak the whole situation made you feel. You just wanted to pretend that everything was fine.

So, for the sake of keeping up the façade, the fake smile still plastered on your face, you asked, “How was your day?”

Tartaglia shrugged. “Just the usual business,” he replied and nudged your nose with his index finger. “Nothing you’d have to worry about, dearie.”

He never told you any details about his work – to keep you safe, as he said, but you knew that it was a waste of effort, given the fact that his position as one of the Tsaritsa’s Harbingers was already enough to expose you to danger. The people in Liyue didn’t trust him. And because you had fallen for him despite knowing that you really should stay away from him, they didn’t trust you either.

Not anymore, at least.

It was probably wrong to assume that everyone out there hated you but the recent incident had made it very clear that some didn’t agree with your relationship. They had called you a traitor, a disgrace for Liyue and many other hurtful things, simply because you had fallen in love with the allegedly wrong person, and the memory of it was enough to make your smile fade.

It was only then that you noticed the questioning expression in Tartaglia’s eyes, and you quickly turned your head away to avoid his gaze, well aware that he probably already realized that something was wrong, judging by the way he cupped your face and gently forced you to look at him. “(Y/N),” he said, his voice so soft that you had to remind yourself how much you wanted to keep the incident a secret, “is everything okay?”

You couldn’t help it; you had to look down at your arms, at the cardigan that covered the bruises, hoping that he didn’t notice the way your hands started to tremble ever so slightly or how you tried not to look at him because you feared that your eyes would give too much away at this point.

But of course, he noticed.

“May I?” he asked, patiently waiting for your response before he slowly began to roll up the sleeves of your cardigan. Your forearm was covered in dark bruises, the less severe ones already fading into a more greenish color. Every single one of them reminded you how they had grabbed you to stop you from walking away from them, and you dropped your gaze once again because you didn’t want him to notice the tears that were welling up in your eyes.

“Who did that to you?” Tartaglia finally asked, staring at the bruises that covered your skin. His grip around your wrist was still gentle but it wasn’t hard to tell that he was angry and ready to take revenge on those who had dared to lay their hands on you. “(Y/N). Where did these bruises come from?”

You shook your head and didn’t answer.

“Who did that to you, (Y/N)? And when?”

“I- I don’t know,” you replied, hesitatingly. “I don’t know their names and it was dark and- please, I really don’t want to talk about it.”

Tartaglia frowned. “You’re trying to hide something from me.” A statement, not a question but with the way you tried to avoid looking at him for longer than a few seconds, it was pretty obvious that you weren’t telling the whole story. He just didn’t understand why.

“Tell me what happened,” he said and brought his hand up to your face to wipe away the tears that had started to roll down your cheeks. “Please. I want to understand what’s going on.”

For a few moments, you just sat there, slightly leaning into his touch while you contemplated whether you should open up to him or not. You knew him; he would never let these people get away with hurting you which would lead to even more distrust among the people of Liyue and that was really the last thing you wanted. But on the other hand, a part of you felt like you were going to burst from all the things you were feeling since the attack if you didn’t tell anyone.

Then, when you opened your mouth to dismiss his question once more, you suddenly found yourself telling him everything about the attack. Forgotten was your plan to keep everything a secret; forgotten was the fear of making everything worse because it just felt so good, so relieving to talk about it after keeping everything to yourself for the past couple of days.

Tartaglia listened in silence, watching as more and more tears streamed down your face until he couldn’t take it anymore and pulled you into his arms.

“Shh. It’s okay, dearie,” he mumbled, his left hand softly stroking your hair while he placed the right on the small of your back to hold you close. “It’s okay. I’m here. Please, don’t cry.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, your tears hot on his skin as you snuggled up to him, almost as if you could hide from the world in his arms.

He kissed the top of your head. “I won’t let something like that happen to you again. I promise.”

[onecanonlife]

Tommy and Wilbur fell apart a long time ago, and there was never any time to mourn the pieces of what they were.

But here's the most important thing: Tommy doesn't give up on the people he cares about.

(Or: on grieving, graves, a past that refuses to let go, and learning to look forward at long last.)

(word count: 5,619)

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

“You know,” Tommy says, “I never really got to—to mourn you. Not properly, anyway.”

He’s not sure what response he’s expecting from Wilbur. He’s not sure why he’s saying anything at all. He’s not sure why he’s here.

That last one is a lie. He scuffs the ground with his shoe, and then pretends that he didn’t.

“I wasn’t expecting you to mourn me,” Wilbur says, in that stupid, even, condescending tone of his, the one that he uses whenever he thinks Tommy has said something incredibly obvious, when he’s got an idea in his head of how things are and what people mean, regardless of the way it all actually is. “In fact, I rather thought you wouldn’t. Shouldn’t, even.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He has no patience left. No patience left for the look in Wilbur’s eyes, no patience left for the way he focuses straight ahead, barely sparing him a glance, no patience left for the way he speaks, measured and calculating, every word he says carefully weighed against the end result, curated for intent and impact. No patience, and he had precious little to begin with. “I’m not even—this isn’t about you.”

Wilbur raises an eyebrow. It makes him look like a prick. “Oh?” he says.

“Because I would’ve,” he continues, doggedly. Now that he’s started saying it, he’s damn fucking well going to finish it. “But, y’know, you blew it all up, so we had to rebuild, and then I got exiled” —His voice doesn’t waver at all— “and then shit just kept on happening, so I never got to decide. How I felt. I never got to think about it.”

Wilbur laughs, then, and it’s the laugh that he hates, because it’s the laugh that’s not genuine. He knows what Wilbur sounds like when he’s happy, and this isn’t it. Hasn’t been it for a long time.

“Not sure there’s much to think about, there,” Wilbur says, and he scowls.

“Shut up, you prick,” he says. “And yes there was. That’s not something you get to choose. What I feel.”

“I’m not trying to—” Wilbur starts, but he shakes his head, going back to talk over him, because no, he’s not doing this. Not today, and not here.

“You are though, aren’t you?” he says. “You always do this. You go, you go mimimimi, I’m Wilbur, and I understand everything about how people think and I’m always right and you are all wrong, and you, I dunno, man. You just. You just don’t. You don’t know. You think you know things, but you don’t. You’re not always right. And I’m—I don’t fucking know why I’m bothering with this right now, but it’s not so you can tell me that I shouldn’t be. Because that’s not something that’s up to you.”

“Then why are you bothering with this?” Wilbur says, and his voice isn’t unkind, but it’s not kind, either.

“I just said I didn’t know—”

“Because if you’re asking me if you should mourn me, you already know what I’m going to say to that,” Wilbur says. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s the fucking problem,” he says, and tacks on a quick, “Not like that,” but Wilbur’s face has already hardened, and yeah, there’s a million better ways he could have put that, but that’s the thing about talking to Wilbur. His brain is never firing on all cylinders, as it were, because it’s too busy trying to figure out if he should associate him with warm summer days and the haze of potions and a strummed guitar or explosions and drifting smoke and blank eyes and the awful realization that what he thought would make everything right didn’t do anything at all, and that nothing would ever be right again.

And before the both of them, L’Manberg’s crater stretches out, vines trawling over the edge, leaves sprouting from between the rocks, sunlight catching on the pool at the bottom, the flag fluttering lightly in the wind. Before the both of them, L’Manberg’s crater has grown over, time pressing itself into the cracks. Before the both of them, L’Manberg is a crater. It wasn’t always.

“You make everything so fucking difficult,” he says.

“It’s what I live for,” Wilbur says.

“It’s what you died for, too,” he says.

Wilbur pauses.

“No,” he says. “It wasn’t.” But for once, he doesn’t elaborate, and Tommy glares at him. Only for a moment, because there’s no point in glaring when someone won’t see. Won’t look. Wilbur has his eyes turned to the crater, and Tommy has his eyes turned to Wilbur, and something about that is how it’s always been. The vines have grown over the earth’s old wounds, but Tommy can’t help but feel like they’ve curled around his ankles, holding him to the spot, the moment, and every moment that came before.

I never got to mourn you, he doesn’t say again. I never got to mourn you, and I feel like I should. But you’re here, and what the hell am I supposed to do with that?

Wilbur won’t hear him. And if he does, he won’t understand.

-----

He collects bits of the past like buttons, or stamps, or memories.

He has his discs. He’s hesitant to play them, even now. Hesitant to take them out of his enderchest. He has his home, still in the same spot, all this time later. His hill, his hole, his garden, their bench. He sat on that bench and heard Wilbur, once, reaching out from beyond the grave, and Wilbur told him he was proud, and something in him ached in the same way that his scars now do when it rains.

He has some of Friend’s wool. Just that, just wool, because he doesn’t know how to knit, and he doesn’t know who would teach him. He can sew a little, but it was something born of necessity, of the need to patch up uniforms and close the tears over freshly dealt wounds, and he can still feel the needle pricking into his fingers, again and again and again. He never could figure out how to hold it so that it wouldn’t. He bled for L’Manberg in more ways than one.

Deep inside a chest, he has two uniforms. Blue and red and white. One is a size too small. The other is several sizes too large, and always will be.

He still goes to pray, sometimes, though not as often as he did. He got the chance to meet god and found no one there, so it’s a little tricky, these days, being faithful. But he’ll go to Church Prime, because no one else really does, so he’ll have the whole building for himself as he strides up to ring the bell, to ask for guidance and favors, to pay his homage at the feet of a higher power that he cannot believe cares. On the best days, he’s tempted to try to conduct a service. But there’s no point when there’s no one to hear it but himself. Even he can’t bring himself to put on a show for empty pews.

He prays, and nobody answers, and sometimes he can’t help but remember the void, the tearing, ripping nothingness, raking him to shreds again and again, where he was not alone and yet nobody came.

He considers visiting Tubbo. But Tubbo has his own life, and a mansion he hasn’t moved into, and a town that Tommy does not belong to, and an allegiance that Tommy does not share. He considers visiting Ranboo, but that’s either the same as visiting Tubbo, or it’s the same as visiting Techno and Phil, or it’s the same as visiting Wilbur.

So he looks at his discs and doesn’t play them, bunches his hands in wool that he has no use for, and calls out to a god he can only now offer false homage. He holds to the past, and wishes he could believe he has a future. Wishes that he didn’t see obsidian and curtaining lava whenever he closes his eyes.

-----

The first time he hears Wilbur play again, he hides in the forest like a fucking coward.

The guitar is strummed hesitantly, haltingly, interspersed with silence every few seconds, as if Wilbur is struggling to find the old positions, struggling to move his fingers just right. He wonders, then, if limbo took away his calluses. He didn’t think to look. Thirteen odd years without playing a guitar is bound to make anyone rusty. Tommy wonders if Wilbur’s fingers will bleed if he presses down on the strings hard enough, and then he banishes the thought from his mind, because something in him revolts at the idea of Wilbur bleeding. Of Wilbur trying and trying to play until he—

There is something to be said, here, about using yourself up in the pursuit of something greater. There is something to be said, here, about holding matches ‘til they burn down to the skin, about stairs without handrails, about things that are never meant to be and yet claw their way into existence anyhow. There is something to be said about pushing too far, too quick, and flying too high.

Wilbur’s not singing. Is just going from chord to chord. And Tommy hides behind a tree, pressing his back against the bark, because it has been so very long. Wilbur didn’t play in Pogtopia. Wilbur barely played in L’Manberg. The last time he heard the twang of this instrument was sitting by a campfire, plans for a van in the works, the night sky starry and welcoming above them, his chest warm in a way that had nothing to do with the flames. And Wilbur smiled at them, smiled at all of them, and his voice was light and sure, his notes soaring.

Wilbur’s not singing. After a moment, he starts humming, softly and meandering, and each turn in the melody hits like a wrench, like he’s dragging the notes out behind them, yanking at the tune whenever it goes somewhere he doesn’t like. It’s a lot of leaps and skips and jumps, a lot of highs to lows and then highs again, and something about it sounds like wailing. There are no words, and there is no happiness.

But he’s playing. He’s playing, and does that count for something? There was no music for such a long time, no music in the darkness and no music even in the light, and now there is music in the grey twilight, and it is not happy music but it is music. Wilbur is playing again, and Tommy’s not going to cry, because what kind of pussy cries about hearing a guitar? So he doesn’t cry, but he doesn’t venture out from this spot, either. He stays there, and listens as Wilbur sends his voice shooting up into falsetto and then back down again.

It’s good that there are no words, maybe. They’d be sad. He can tell.

“That sounds nice,” Ranboo says, all of a sudden, and Tommy jolts at the same time that Wilbur’s hand must jerk, a discordant clash of notes, something that can’t even be called a chord. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You didn’t,” Wilbur says, after a pause. Tommy almost creeps out to see his expression, because he can’t picture it. Can’t tell from his voice what his face is doing. “I was just about done anyway.” There is another pause, and a rustle of clothing. Standing. The crunching of leaves underfoot. It’s nearly autumn again, and already the leaves are changing, falling.

It would be wrong of him to resent Ranboo. He’ll never admit it aloud, but he likes him. Rather a lot. Hiding it is probably pointless now, though that doesn’t stop him from trying. But Ranboo is occupying the space that should be his, that once was his. There is a van in a forest, and a guitar song winding its way through the branches and the roots, and everything is different and everything is the same, and the new story is written without him in it. He doesn’t know what he wants, but he thinks it is not this. He thinks it is not to be left behind.

And Ranboo does not know Wilbur well enough to hear the lie in his voice.

They go off together through the trees. Tommy stays. Runs his hand across the tree bark, and tries not to put his emotions into words. Better to let them drift along as is. Better not to give them voice, because whispers turn into shouts all too easily, and there is not enough space here for shouting.

-----

There’s a thing about graves. There’s a thing about graves and who gets one, and who doesn’t.

He didn’t think about it at the time, the fact that Schlatt—Schlatt the tyrant, Schlatt the enemy, Schlatt the man who had Tubbo executed—got a funeral, and a tomb, has one even to this day, and Wilbur got rubble and a room sealed off and untouched. Didn’t think about the fact that there was no burial. Didn’t think about the fact that there was no gravestone to deface or to ornament with flowers or to kick or to scream at or to kneel beside and speak to or to cry or to do any or all of those things. He didn’t think about it at the time, because there was rebuilding, and then there was a house on fire, and then he doesn’t like to think about it.

And there was Ghostbur.

Wilbur hates Ghostbur. It makes him angry, the way that Wilbur hates Ghostbur. Ghostbur was good, and Ghostbur was kind, and Ghostbur tried his best, and Ghostbur did not deserve to die in the way that he did, terrified, with no one there by his side, with only shouted numbers to soothe his terror, and Ghostbur does not deserve to be stuck in a train station for all of eternity. So he makes Ghostbur a memorial, because it’s all he can do, and the first time he’s next to it at the same time as Wilbur, he meets his eyes squarely. A challenge. A dare. And Wilbur looks right back at him, and then to the gravestone, and his lips curl into a sneer.

And he says nothing at all.

He says nothing at all for a long time. Until he does, and it’s all made so much worse.

“Would you rather he was here, instead of me?” Wilbur asks, and it’s all very even and nonchalant, so much so that it might have him fooled if he didn’t know better, hadn’t heard time and time again exactly what Wilbur thinks of the ghost he left behind him.

“The fuck kind of question is that?” he demands.

“An honest one,” Wilbur answers.

“Right,” he says. “Because you don’t lie anymore, or whatever the fuck.”

“I don’t,” Wilbur agrees, and that is a lie. Tommy would be insulted if he weren’t so tired of it. “Really, I’d like an answer.”

“What does it matter?” he snaps. “He’s not here anymore. He’s not here anymore, and you are. No changing that. I’m fucking stuck with you. You’re like, you’re like a leech, you know that? A leech in my brain.”

Wilbur smiles tightly.

“I’d rather be a leech in your brain than dust in the ground,” he says. “Like he is.”

“Shut up,” he grits out. “Don’t—just don’t fucking talk about him.”

“Alright, then,” Wilbur says. “I won’t. If it upsets you that much.”

And he doesn’t. And the grave stays.

And it is not until later that he thinks about the thing about graves again, about who gets one and who does not. There is no grave with Wilbur’s name on it. There was no soil to lay him to rest, only cold, hard stone, a room undisturbed, a monument to destruction. And had there been time, he would have thought about it more. Would have taken it upon himself, perhaps, because the thing is, in the end, that maybe Wilbur deserved better than to be remembered as the man who destroyed his nation. Deserved better than to be remembered solely by the ravine’s dark corridors and the smoke that clung to him like foreshadowing and the way his eyes looked dead, dead, dead for a long time before Tommy watched Phil plunge the sword into his chest.

Because he was not only that. It hurts to think about, how he was not only that. But sometimes, things that hurt to think about ought to be thought about. Because Wilbur was shattered edges that Tommy knows only now that he could not fix, because Wilbur did not want fixing, but Wilbur was also laughter and a gentle hand on his shoulder and the words “I’m proud of you” that lit him up like sunlight, and he was kind and he was kind of a dick and he was brilliant and Prime, maybe Tommy should have known. Should have known that there was going to be a fall. But he looked up to Wilbur like a child to a shooting star, and it’s a long time before children understand that shooting stars aren’t stars at all, and that the wonder of them comes from self-destruction.

But before Wilbur fell, he shone. A beacon in the dark. Hope, freedom. And before he was those things, too, he was Tommy’s brother. Just that, and nothing more, because more was not needed.

And he received no grave.

It’s a question of time again, and a question of mourning, and a question of how he was ever supposed to grieve when there was no time for it at all, and when a ghost shadowed his every footstep and dripped blue from cold fingers and insisted that nothing was ever wrong. But for the first time, he wonders how Wilbur thinks about it. Graves, and ghosts. And who gets a grave, and who does not.

Who is mourned, and who is not.

Who is given up on, and who is not.

The question echoes once again: “Would you rather he was here, instead of me?” And this time, Tommy hears no taunt in it, no mocking, no cruel joke about the ghost who deserved so much better. Only bitterness, and exhaustion, and resignation. Like Wilbur already knew what answer he would be granted.

That’s a realization of some sort, that Wilbur believes he prefers him dead. It’s a realization of some sort, but he doesn’t know what kind.

There’s ghosts and there’s graves, and there’s the living and there’s the dead, and both are left waiting for relief that never comes. It’s thirteen years in a train station and it’s months without knowing what to think, without having space to breathe, without being able to process that his brother was unwell and then that his brother was gone. It’s too much time and too little, too much distance and too little, and Ghostbur did not deserve what he got, but neither, he thinks, did Wilbur.

That thought feels right. And wrong all at once. Bitter, heart-wrenching. That Wilbur deserved better. They all did, that he knows—but Wilbur did too. And that thought is muddled up in all the rest, and he doesn’t know what to do with it, but it’s there. If there’s anything to be done with it at all.

-----

Here is a fact: he kept Dream alive for Wilbur’s sake.

Here is another fact: he doesn’t know if he regrets it.

Because here is the thing: he remembers that day, remembers the pain and the fear and the devastation, and he remembers the moment it all turned around, cowering behind Sapnap and behind Eret until the time came to step forward, to take the axe in hand and deliver the blow, to deliver himself to safety, finally, finally. And he remembers the words bitten out from Dream’s mouth, panicked, desperate, and he remembers what he said. He will never forget.

And the decision, in that moment, was far easier than it had any right to be.

It became harder, later. Because he made the decision thinking, in large part, of the person that Wilbur used to be. Of a quick, charming tongue and flashes of smiles and music and song and leadership and knowing what to do, always, and Prime above but Tommy missed that person. And so maybe he deluded himself. Maybe he thought, in that dark room, with the portal swirling behind him and the entire server at his back, that he could get that person again. That Wilbur would return, and that it could all go back to the way it used to be. Discs spinning in the sunrise, the server at peace, his brother with him.

But death put those thoughts to rest.

Because death proved to him that Wilbur had only gotten worse. Because in death, Wilbur was happy he was there, did nothing but talk to him and make him play competitive solitaire as he was torn apart atom by atom. Because Wilbur—he became so very certain that Wilbur, if released, would bring nothing but harm to the server again, would tear everything down, because there was something in his voice, in his eyes—

But that was then. And now, Dream still lives in prison, rots but lives, and Wilbur has a burger van in a forest with a friend and spends most of his days lounging about or making eyes at Quackity or talking up a storm but doing jack shit, and Tommy doesn’t know what to make of it, and doesn’t know how to admit that maybe his idea of what Wilbur would be like and what Wilbur would do wasn’t entirely accurate.

And he still doesn’t know if it was worth it. Worth the constant fear, worth knowing that one day, Dream will be out, will come to him, will try to finish what he started. He tried to prevent it and only made it worse, only led Ghostbur to his doom by his innocent, trusting hand, and Dream resurrected—

A monster, he would have said, once. He no longer knows if that is fair.

Because here is another fact, one that he is only now beginning to understand: Wilbur is very, painfully human. He’s always known, and yet he hasn’t, because once, he thought Wilbur hung the stars and the moon and all things bright and glowing and good, and he thought that Wilbur could never be so human as to be fallible, and then it turned out that he was wrong. And it was easy, in the aftermath of that, to figure that Wilbur was perhaps some kind of monster instead, and everyone around him said as much.

But that, he thinks, goes too far in the other direction.

His hopes will never be realized. He will never have the old Wilbur back. He clings to a past that clings to him right back, that has him in a chokehold and will not let go, but Wilbur is something else entirely. The rest of the past does not live and breathe, is contained in his overflowing chests, in uniforms that don’t fit him, in the church’s empty hall. The rest of the past is made of things he can hold, but he has never been able to hold Wilbur. Not then, and not now. And there is no hope of making of them what they once were.

There is no going back.

So was it worth it, then? To keep Dream alive, and to receive this, this man who varies between manic energy and calculated calm, who speaks with a whip in his tone at some times and unbearable softness at others, who proclaims Dream his hero and then claims he would have killed him, if he could, for what he did? Was it worth it, and is it worth it, and how is something like that measured at all?

Wilbur is a tightness in his chest when he speaks and a ghost that won’t leave and a ghost that died and a thousand words like a thousand stinging hornets and no picture that could encompass all of them, all of what they are and were. Wilbur is Wilbur, and Wilbur is not safe, not anymore, and perhaps Wilbur is not even good—but there, that, that is wrong, and he won’t make this mistake twice. Wilbur is good, it’s just that he’s forgotten that, and Tommy is so, so very tired of having to be the one to try and remind him. And Wilbur is empty space and Wilbur is a space too full and overflowing around the fractured edges, and Wilbur is too bright and too loud and too quiet and too little and too much, and even now, even still, Tommy does not know where they stand.

Was it worth it, to have this?

He doesn’t know. But sometimes, he imagines what it would be like if Wilbur were still dead, if Wilbur were never, ever coming back in any shape, in any form, and his throat closes up and his eyes sting, no matter how much he has laid out his hatred for the man, his regret at going into the prison that day. He tries to imagine a world without Wilbur in it, in which he has given up on Wilbur, and even now he doesn’t like it, even though maybe he should, and that is, perhaps, answer enough.

-----

“Why do you keep coming here?” Wilbur asks him.

“I dunno,” he says, instead of a hundred other things. “Why don’t you ever fucking leave?”

Wilbur just looks tired. There are bags under his eyes. Tommy thinks he can guess why; he so rarely slept during their exile, but Tommy is thinking about limbo, and train stations, and how whenever he closes his eyes, part of him is convinced that his heart has stopped beating. He wonders if Wilbur, for all his sunrise-obsession and constant movement and moments of utter wonderment at the world around him and the way he doesn’t move whenever a creeper approaches him, feels the same way.

“There was a reason I asked Ranboo to do this with me instead of you,” Wilbur says, suddenly, apropos of nothing. Tommy feels himself still. “I mean—actually, I asked Phil, and Phil was all, oh, Wil, go and make friends, and I was like fuck you I’m not twelve years old anymore but Ranboo’s pretty great so it worked out. But I—I guess what I’m getting at is that I don’t get it. Why you choose to keep coming ‘round here anyway.”

“Yeah?” he asks. “What’s not to get?”

Wilbur shoots him a look, eyebrows going up and mouth slanting all sympathetic-like.

“Tommy,” he says, slowly, as if talking to the child that Tommy has not been in a long, long time, “I’m not what you want.”

Several answers form in his head, and then dissipate just as quickly before he’s able to reply. “‘S that right?” he says, and something boils within him, hot and snapping and popping.

“I can see it when you look at me, man,” Wilbur says, and he doesn’t even sound upset. “You’re—and I mean, I don’t blame you for it. I was awful to you, Tommy. I don’t deserve anything less than your scorn. But you and everyone else, you’re all waiting for what I’m going to do next. You’re all waiting with bated breath. Scared of the next disaster I’m going to cause. So you don’t—you don’t have to be here, Tommy. Not if you don’t want to be.”

There are so many things he could say. Your disasters always cause the most damage to yourself, is one of them, and then there’s a simple, you think I don’t know that? Because how many times has he told himself that same thing? That he doesn’t need to be here? That it would be better for him if he wasn’t? And some part of him must listen, because he’s not actually here all that much. He has other things to do. A life outside of this, outside of this forest on the edge of a fake desert and a van that makes pretty shitty burgers and one Wilbur Soot, like a portrait from the past and yet nothing like that at all, because portraits are shadows, still images, permanent and unchanging, with mo mutable future, and Wilbur Soot is none of those things.

He has a life. He has Tubbo, still, even if it’s all changed. He has others. He’s not alone.

Wilbur’s right that he doesn’t have to be here.

“Stop fucking doing that,” he says. “Stop trying to make my decisions for me.”

Wilbur’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m not—”

“You are,” he says. “You always are. It’s my fucking choice whether I want to be here or not. And I’m making that choice. Not you. Me. And sure, maybe one day you’ll manage to get rid of me for good, but you’re gonna have to fucking work at it, and I don’t see you trying.”

“I thought you didn’t want me here, Tommy,” Wilbur returns, and the words seem to fall so effortlessly, like easy acceptance, and why, why is it this of all things that Wilbur seems to take in stride? Why is it this and not a thousand other things? Why is it this and not the fact that despite it all, despite every warning sign and every indication that maybe it might be better for him to give up after all, Tommy is still here?

“I didn’t want you gone, either,” he snaps, and Wilbur falls completely silent. So he continues, because who knows when he’ll have a chance to say this again? That’s the thing about chances; they’re difficult to count, impossible to anticipate, and he bollocksed up the first one he got, to try to break through. “I never wanted you gone in the first place. So maybe I don’t—maybe I don’t fucking know what I want. Because I never got to just live with that. There was never a chance to—there wasn’t even a fucking grave for me to visit. I never got to figure anything out, and now you’re back and nothing’s the fucking same, so maybe I don’t know what I fucking want. Maybe I don’t fucking know if I want you here, but I didn’t want you gone. I didn’t want you to be dead. And then you were. You just were, and I couldn’t—did you expect me to be alright with that?”

It’s a question of mourning, and a question of graves, and a question of chances and who deserves them. And Wilbur just looks confused.

Fuck him.

There’s so much more to say, and he can’t say any of it at all, and the past chokes him like a knot of vines or a clump of flowers in his throat, but he’s still breathing. He’s still breathing, breathes again, whatever, and Wilbur is the same. They’re the same in a lot of ways, maybe. On the other side of the final death, trying to hold onto and release the years gone by all at once. Moving forward, but stuck in quicksand, and they’re never going to get out if they don’t let each other.

“You’re my brother,” he says, and that’s all. As if that explains everything.

And maybe it does.

Wilbur blinks.

“Ah,” he says.

“Yeah,” Tommy says. “Fucking ah.”

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur says.

“You’d better be,” he says.

And impossibly, the vines uncurl, and the flowers come floating up, and when he takes a step forward, it comes easily.

There is a van in this forest, and it is not the same van. Some distance away, there is a crater in the ground, and nature has draped itself over the ruins of the lives they once had, and the flag still flaps at the bottom, and they are never, ever going to be able to rebuild what they lost. The crater will always be a crater, a scar in the earth. Healing, healed, grown over and stitched shut, but still a scar.

And there is a man standing in front of him who is not the same man that he knew. Not the same man that he claimed for his family, and who claimed him in return.

But he is not the same, either. Perhaps nobody and nothing is. The past clings, and he clings tighter, but perhaps he needs to loosen his grip, because despite everything, there is a future out there, somewhere past the next sunrise. They are going to get older. They are going to live. So he has his discs and his uniforms and his wool and his prayer, and he has this, too, because it is his choice. To take a step forward, and wait to be met in the middle. To dare to turn ahead, to believe that there is something awaiting him. The both of them.

And he thinks he might finally be able to let himself grieve. Grieve, and let go. Grieve the dead, and what they had, and what they might have, and grieve for the fact that there was no grieving, no grave.

And then, let himself hope that they will have better after all.

-----

The next time he hears Wilbur play, he steps out from behind the tree.

And maybe the song is a little less sad.

And maybe nothing will ever be the same as it used to be.

And maybe it will be alright.

[pinkczennie]

Dirty Mind | Yuta (m)

Part of this playlist fic!

Pairing: Yuta x female reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 2k

Warnings: 18+ only, mature language, explicit sexual content, protected sex

 She’s got a dirtier mind than my mouth. 

Holy fuck, the man is hot as hell. I’d let him absolutely rail the shit out of me, you thought to yourself when a mutual friend of yours, Mark, first introduced you to his friend, Yuta, after a victorious soccer game. 

“Nice to meet you, y/n,” he smiles, showing off his pearly teeth, as he extends his hand out for you.

His long, black hair tied in a low ponytail that you imagine threading your fingers in between to pull on, and his long fingers painted with black nail polish that you want shoved knuckles deep in your pussy. 

You can’t believe you’re having such impure thoughts about someone you just met, but you couldn’t help yourself in the presence of such an attractive person.  

“Nice to meet you too, Yuta,” you take his hand in yours and shake hands.

When his attention is no longer on you because someone else came to congratulate Yuta on his win, you continued to gaze at him from afar until you felt a nudge against your arm, snapping you out of your dirty thoughts.

“Hey, are you staring at Yuta?” Haechan asks as he follows the direction of your eyes.

“What? No, I wasn’t,” you quickly deny, hiding your flustered face.

“Oh my god, you totally were!” he gasps.

You groan, “Okay, yes I was staring at him. Sheesh, I didn’t realize how obvious I was making it.”

“Holy shit, are you into Yuta?” he asks. 

“Maybe… god, he’s so hot,” you reply honestly. “He probably has a huge dick. Fuck, I would let that man rearrange my guts in all kinds of positions.”

“Ew, okay, I didn’t need to hear that,” he grimaces, disgusted. He wishes he didn’t have that visual in his head.

You meant it though. Bless Mark for introducing you to such a fine ass man. 

As a celebration for winning the game, his frat house throws him and the other soccer players that are in the fraternity a party. 

Thankfully, you had some connections, aka Mark and Haechan, so you only knew about the party through him and were able to get invited. 

Throughout the party, as you mingle with other people and some friends, you couldn’t help but occasionally search the crowd for a certain someone. 

Your eyes wander from people to people until you finally spot him with a beer can in his hand while chatting with his friends. Yuta sports a white tee and ripped black jeans, looking fine as always. 

Your head is empty besides the thought of riding Yuta’s thighs, staining his pants with your juices while he showers you with praises for being such a good girl. 

“Why don’t you just go up and talk to him instead of staring at him like a creep?” 

You look at Haechan with narrow eyes, “And say what?”

“I don’t know. ‘Hey I think you’re hot. Wanna fuck?’” he suggests.

“Are you crazy? I just met him like a few days ago, there’s no way I can say that.”

“I mean it’s better than just staring at him like a creep,” he mumbles.

Was I being creepy? You wonder and mentally slap yourself.

You tried, emphasis on ‘tried’, to keep your staring to a minimum of just a few quick glances, but unfortunately, you were not very good at being subtle with your staring because, damn, was it hard for you to look away from Yuta sometimes, so said man has caught you multiple times. He notices you staring at him, and honestly, you peaked his interest. He wonders what you are thinking about when you stare at him like that.

He finds it cute how you would awkwardly look away when Yuta catches you staring, your face turning a shade of pink pretending like he didn’t just catch you.

“Dude, she’s been staring at you all night,” Jungwoo states as he leans against Yuta. 

“Yeah, I know,” Yuta says as he takes a sip of his beer. “She’s pretty cute.”

“I can tell she’s into you. I even heard from Haechan that she talks about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Yuta perks up at this new information. “What does she say about me?”

“How you’re hot and that she’d let you rearrange her guts in all kinds of positions,” Jungwoo repeats Haechan’s words.

“Damn, that’s fucking hot,” Yuta mumbles as he bites the nail of his thumb to suppress the grin spreading across his face. 

“Why doesn’t she just make a move already? She’s practically making it obvious.” Jungwoo wonders.

Yuta doesn’t think you would dare approach him first, so Yuta knew he had to make the first move.

I want to be the person that you do it to

After way too many drinks, you needed to pee so you excuse yourself to search for the restroom. You’re pretty tipsy but you can walk a straight line, so you can manage yourself just fine. 

After using the restroom, you walk down the hallway, passing by the frat member’s rooms, and stopping dead in your tracks when something captures your attention.

You don’t mean to be intrusive and just walk into someone’s room, but when you notice a soccer jersey hung nicely on the wall with the last name ‘Nakomoto’ in full display, you realize this must be Yuta’s room. 

You peek around to see if anyone is looking before carefully making your way into his room and close the door halfway behind you. You won’t stay long enough for someone to see you in the room, but you just wanted to see what his room would be like. 

His room is quite simple, a bed, a desk, a laptop, a closet, and soccer gear scattered around his room. It was a little messy, like the blanket messily tossed on the bed, and some papers and textbook thrown around the floor, but honestly it was what you typically imagined a male college student’s room to look like. Honestly, it kind of just screams Yuta in your opinion.

You walk up to examine his soccer jersey, imagination running wild with thoughts of Yuta fucking you while you’re wearing his soccer jersey. 

Oh, what you would give to make that dream come true to let Yuta do nasty things to you until you’re fucked dumb. 

After examining his room and jersey, you turn around to leave but your heart almost leaps out of your chest when you see Yuta leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed around his chest staring intently at you. How long has he been standing there and how did you not even hear him?

 “Hey, you. Whatcha doin’ in my room?” The man asks.

“Oh...I-uh was just- um- I wanted to admire your jersey up close,” you laugh awkwardly, cringing at your very lame and probably unbelievable excuse, but it was the best thing you could come up with under pressure. 

“Oh really? What do you think about when you look at my jersey?” he asks as he slowly starts to approach you. 

You gulp when he’s getting closer and closer to you. “I just thought about how cool you were when you won that soccer game.”

“Oh really?” Yuta stops when he’s standing right in front of you, blocking you from any escape routes. “I think you’d look cute in it.”

Are you just hearing things or did Yuta just say what you think he just said? 

You blush, “O-oh, thanks.”

He unhooks his soccer jersey from the hanger and turns to you, “But you’d look even cuter wearing it while I rearrange your guts on my bed.”

You feel your heart skip a beat before your face turns beat red now as you stare up at him with wide eyes.

“So..I heard that you think I’m hot and you’d let me fuck you,” Yuta takes a step closer until his face is right in front of you, looking down at you with dark eyes, “Want to turn that fantasy into a reality with me?”

You feel yourself clench around nothing, and you feel something snap inside you. This devilishly handsome man right here is asking if you wanted to have sex, and who were you to say no? There was no way you were letting this opportunity pass. 

“Fuck, yes,” you breath out as your lips attack his in a hungry kiss. 

She just wants to fuck me all the time

That’s how you ended up in Yuta’s bed, wearing only his oversized soccer jersey, with your face down ass up, while his dick slams into your soaking cunt at an animalistic pace. 

Both your lips are swollen red from kissing and eating each other’s mouths. Your original clothes and his clothes are discarded all around the floor as you both try to strip as fast as possible. You get into his jersey while he rolls a condom on. 

The party is still going on outside but the door is locked, so no one can interrupt you two. But honestly, you and Yuta probably would not be opposed to leaving the door unlocked for someone to walk in on you while you’re in the middle of the deed. It just adds to the thrill of being caught. 

The blaring music from the living room helps drown out the sound of skin slapping against skin, the moans, and the bed creaking with every thrust.

His length is stretching your walls and filling you to the brim that you can feel every ridge of his dick. 

“Damn babe, you feel so good,” Yuta breathes. “Your pretty little pussy being stuffed full of my cock.”

“Y-yuta,” you whimper. 

“God, I could fuck you all day until you can’t walk for a week and you’re covered in my marks to let everyone know what a dirty little slut you are,” Yuta purrs.

The dirty talk is making you even more turned on. You can’t believe that this man is actually fucking you right now after fantisizing about this moment for so long. 

Yuta watches his member disappear inside of you as he thrusts forward. You look so small in just his jersey and he wants to absolutely ruin you. He couldn’t help but slap your bare butt, causing you to yelp.

You grip the bed sheets and throw your head back when Yuta repositions himself and brushes against a certain spot that had you seeing stars. The bundle of nerves in your lower stomach is ready to burst and you disregard any thoughts of holding back your voice. You were so overwhelmed with pleasure that you could cry. Your mind is clouded with lust and desire that you can’t think straight anymore.

“I’m close,” you breathe.

Yuta’s thrusts become even more harsh and his grip on your hips will surely leave marks. He bites his lips when he feels your walls squeezing around his dick because he feels his release coming soon as well.

With one final thrust, a silence scream escapes your lips as you release all over his cock while Yuta groans as he shoots his seeds inside the condom. 

You both pause for a moment, just catching your breaths while Yuta remains still inside of you. Your heads are spinning after that intense climax just now. You both stare at each other’s exhausted and sweaty state. 

After a few seconds, he pulls out of your entrance, leaving you feeling hollow and you whine a bit which makes Yuta chuckle. He discards the used condom into his trash bin and settles next to you on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

You turn to admire post sex Yuta, his hair stuck to his forehead due to the sweat that accumulated on his skin and his chest rising up and down as he inahles and exhales oxygen. 

You smile before climbing on top of Yuta to take a seat on his lap, surprising the man. 

“Round two?” You suggest.

Yuta stares at you with wide eyes, shocked by your stamina of wanting to go again, before bursting out into laughter. “Ride me this time.”

Hopefully, no one will be looking for you or Yuta because you two might be at it for a while.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 22 - Red Right Hand [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, blood, nightmares.

Word Count: 4000

Summary: Anyone can be a suspect.

When you woke up, the first thing you realized before even opening your eyes was that you weren’t in your bed.

Your bed was softer than this, the sheets were silk and the pillows were fluffier-

Spencer.

You were sleeping in Spencer’s bed, and in all honesty, both he and you were terrible at this break up thing.

You rubbed your eyes and sat up in bed, trying pull yourself together and get rid of the haze of the sleep. Judging by the state of the bed, it was very obvious that Spencer hadn’t slept there and the clattering of plates coming from the kitchen let you know that he was already awake. You yawned, stretching out and kicked off the covers before you quickly made the bed and stepped back to see if it looked good.

Well, it looked acceptable at least.

You shrugged to yourself and stepped out of the room to approach where the noises were coming from, then leaned sideways on the door frame, a smile warming your face when Spencer turned his head to look at you.

“Morning.”

“Hi there,” you said, your voice still raspy because of sleep, “What are you making?”

“Um- I realized I just had coffee and not much of anything else,” Spencer said, “Unless you like leftover Chinese.”

“My favorite breakfast.”

“So grilled cheese sandwich?”

“Oh man, you don’t want to share your leftover Chinese?” you curled your lips, “I guess grilled cheese sandwich could be breakfast too.”

He chuckled and put the sandwiches on the plates, so you grabbed them and went to the living room to sit on the couch, Spencer following you with two cups of coffee.

“Jesus Spencer, you didn’t have to sleep here,” you motioned at the blanket, “You’re taller than the couch.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.”

You shifted your weight and picked at the toast before nibbling on the piece,

“How did you sleep?” he asked and you chewed on your bite.

“Like a rock,” you said, “I got like four hours, do you know what that is? A miracle.”

He thought for a moment before he walked to the table to pull open a drawer as you grabbed your cigarette package,

“Do you mind if I smoke here?”

“I do actually.”

You looked down at the package in your hand, then put it back into your purse as he walked back to the couch, clearing his throat.

“So I was thinking,” he said, “The um-the next time it gets too much for you, even though I’m on a case away from the city, if you ever need to get away from your place…” he reached out and put what looked to be a spare key to his apartment on the coffee table and you stared at it for a couple of seconds, your heart skipping a beat.

“Professor,” you managed to say when you pulled yourself together and tried to ignore the spark of hope, “I say this with the best intentions, but we really do suck at this whole break up thing.”

“We’re not so bad-“

“We’re literally the worst ex couple I’ve ever seen. You take your key back from your exes, not give them one.”

“But it’s not like that,” he said quickly, “It’s so that you can drop by when I’m not here if you want to.”

You were melting, and he wasn’t even aware of it.

“Spencer…” you tried to stop the smile warming your face and pursed your lips, “I can’t.”

He pulled his brows together, his soft gaze on you almost confused, “Why not?”

You heaved a sigh and reached out to wrap your fingers over the back of his hand, the spark of electricity shooting through your whole system. Your body didn’t care about the break up as much as your mind did, that was clear. Even now, even after everything, even if you knew it was wrong, the only thing you absolutely craved for was to be closer to him, however you could be.

“Trust me,” you said, “The only thing it’ll do is to give me hope, and I can’t have that. Besides, who knows? Yet another friend of Luke’s might disagree with this decision if you ever end up not talking about your ex during the first date.”

He let out a small chuckle, “That’s not happening, you know it as much as I do.”

You scrunched up your nose, “My point about being terrible exes,” you started, but before you could say anything else, your phone started vibrating. You looked around and grabbed it, then took it to your ear.

“Hello?”

“Finally!” Mina’s voice reached you, “Why can’t anyone reach you? Mom called you like a hundred times.”

“I was busy.”

“Doing what? Your assistant said you didn’t show up yet.”

“What happened?” you asked back and she heaved a sigh.

“Mom wanted me to ask if you want them to send you a car for tonight.”

“Why would I-“ you started and then it dawned on you and you threw your head back, “Charity auction.”

“The one that we told you like a month ago, and your assistant already put it in your schedule. You know, the whole point of having that is checking it sometimes right?”

“I wanted to erase it from my mind, probably that’s why,” you grumbled.

“Well you’re coming. I’ll actually kill you if you bail on me, we’re all going to be there.”

You rolled your eyes, “Okay, whenever we go somewhere like this, mom socializes, you and Kenz hook up in the bathroom, I’m the only one who doesn’t have fun in these things! I’m allowed to-“

“I’m literally running to a meeting on stilettos so I don’t have time to feel sorry for you but I’ll put it in my schedule if you want,” she said, “Unlike you, I check mine. No car then?”

“I’ll drive there myself.”

“Suit yourself. Cry beforehand if you’re going to be in this mood for the whole night, will you? You don’t look good with smudged makeup.”

“Fuck you Mina.”

“Love you too brat!” she sang and hung up, and you huffed out a breath.

“Charity auction?” Spencer asked, “Rossi was talking about that too.”

Your head shot up, “Wait, you will be there?” you asked, the grumpiness leaving you instantly and he shrugged his shoulders.

“A part of the team will. We don’t know yet.”

“I hope they pick you to be there.”

He tilted his head, “Why?”

You bit inside your cheek, still trying to fight the urge to be closer to him before you took a deep breath.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, “Maybe I wouldn’t hate tonight that much if you were there.”

                                                 ***

Having breakfast with Spencer was a perfect way to start the day, that was for sure, but you couldn’t say the same for the rest of the day. Much like Mina, you spent the whole day running from meeting to meeting, and by the time you got home to get ready for the night, you were already way too tired.

But as you found out, a good night’s sleep made wonders, so even if you were tired, you weren’t as drowsy as before.

Special thanks to Spencer, for that one.

You did your make up and your hair before getting into the gown and you looked in the mirror, smoothing over the fabric. You turned around to see whether the long skirt looked good at all the angles but then your phone started vibrating on the bed and you grabbed it to answer it.

“Hi Linc,” you put him on speaker as you opened the drawer to pick a necklace, “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to check whether you’re going to pretend you’re sick to get out of it,” he said and you chuckled.

“Good idea, I’ll use it the next time,” you clasped the necklace behind your neck and fixed your hair, “And no. Unfortunately I’ll be there.”

“Come on Y/N, we’ll have fun.”

“I don’t think so.”

“We’ll have alcohol, you like alcohol.”

“That’s the only way I can stand these things,” you murmured, “How about you? Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind about coming?”

“Are you kidding? Watching you sulk is like a hobby of mine at this point, I made my peace with it.”

“I don’t sulk!”

“Yeah you do,” he chuckled, “I’ll see you there okay?”

“Yeah yeah, see you,” you murmured and hung up, then grabbed your coat and left your apartment. You got into your car, turned the music on, and started driving.

It took you almost an hour to get there because of the traffic. You handed your keys to the valet, thanked him and started climbing the marble stairs but as soon as you looked down at your phone you felt someone crashing into you.

“Ugh!” the woman let out a furious breath but still kept talking on the phone, “I said I don’t want them blue, I want them green! What are you, an idiot? I don’t have time for this…”

“Apology not accepted asshole,” you murmured to yourself and kept climbing the stairs.

“Good evening ma’am.”

“Good evening,” you smiled at the man by the door and stepped inside to walk through the huge foyer until you reached the hall. You looked around as soon as you reached the table surrounded by empty chairs and stopped one of the waitresses.

“Excuse me,” you smiled at her, “Hi, is this the table number one?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Thank you,” you said and heaved a sigh as she walked away, “How am I the first one here God damn it?”

You checked the time on your phone before making your way out of the hall and went outside again so that you could smoke a cigarette or two until everyone got there. There was no way you would sit there alone, you already didn’t like this evening and that would make it even worse. You leaned back to one of the pillars, lighting a cigarette and exhaling the smoke up into the dark sky, watching the people entering and leaving the building.

You heaved a sigh after minutes passed and you lit your third cigarette, sending Mina yet another text in all caps but then you heard someone clear their throat so you looked up from your phone and your heart started pacing in your chest, a wide smile pulling at your lips before you could stop it.

“Professor,” you managed to say and Spencer ran a hand through his hair as if he wanted to make sure it looked good, “Well this is a nice surprise. Came to save the damsel in distress?”

He pulled his brows together, “I doubt you fall under that category.”

You scrunched up your nose, “You have a point. I’m probably the big bad wolf in a dress.”

“I mean it’s a pretty dress,” he murmured before stealing a look at you, “You look great. As usual.”

You could feel the happiness filling your system and you giggled.

“Thanks,” you said, “So do you. But hey, that’s not a surprise. The only reason why the FBI is keeping you around is your looks, not your smarts, we all know that.”

That seemed to make him chuckle and you gasped, then reached out to hold his scarf over your dress.

“Spencer look, we match!”

“Look at that, we do-“ he smiled but before he could say anything, you saw Lincoln climbing the stairs. You waved at him and he took a look at you two with a slight frown on his face, then made his way to you.

“Jesus, took you long enough.”

“I know, I had this last minute phone call about work….” he shook his head, “Dr. Reid. You seem to be everywhere nowadays.”

“Seems that way,” Spencer stated curtly and Lincoln turned to you.

“Why are you outside?”

“Because no one at our table showed up yet,” you said, “And you know I hate sitting alone.”

“Ah well, I’m here now so if you want-“

“I think I’ll smoke some more, thanks though,” you told him and a small smile curled Spencer’s lips before he raised his brows, looking at Lincoln who checked his watch.

“It’ll start soon though, just so you know,” he said, “See you inside.”

With that, he walked away from you into the building and Spencer turned to you.

“That was subtle.”

“He’ll be fine,” you said and threw your hands up when you caught the sight of Mina getting closer, “Did you like die or something? Where’s Kenz?”

“On her way, there was something with the babysitter, my meeting took forever!” she said, “I drove here straight from work, is mom going to kill me?”

“No one is here yet.”

“Probably because of the accident.”

You frowned, “What accident?”

“I think there’s some kind of an accident, the traffic is insane,” she eyed Spencer up and down, “Oh great, cute sad giraffe is here too.”

“Mina!” you hissed and Spencer shot you a look as if he was desperately asking for your help, but Mina waved a hand.

“I’ll be inside,” she said and walked inside while you shifted your weight.

“…Cute sad giraffe?” Spencer asked and you rubbed the back of your neck.

“Please ignore her,” you said, “I apologize on her behalf.”

Spencer stared at you, then scoffed a laugh, “Does she hate me or…?”

“She doesn’t hate you as a person, she just hates all my boyfriends as a princip- ex. Ex boyfriends.” You quickly corrected yourself, “She hates my ex boyfriends as a principle.”

“Why?”

“It’s a sister thing. I threatened one of her ex-girlfriends once, so this is what I get.”

“You threatened-“ Spencer started but you waved at Nolan who was climbing the stairs and he frowned at you and Spencer, then approached you.

“Well hello there,” he greeted you two before turning to Spencer, “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Nolan, this is Spencer Reid,” you introduced them, “Spencer, Nolan. He’s the love of my mom’s life for some reason.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Nolan said and clicked his tongue “You’re the infamous Dr. Reid then. I’ve heard about you.”

“Nolan,” you murmured warningly but he ignored you.

“Has Y/N mentioned the head of FBI is a good friend of mine?”

“Um- no she hasn’t—”

“Well I’d keep that in mind just in case you happen to make yet another mist—“

“Thank you Nolan!” you said very loudly, “Mina is inside, you could join her if you want- also, have you seen my mother?”

“I came here straight from my house but I sent her a car, she was on her way,” Nolan said as someone by the door called out his name and he heaved a sigh, “Business doesn’t wait, excuse me.”

“Did he just…?” Spencer asked as Nolan got inside and you shook your head fervently.

“No he didn’t.”

“That sounded like a threat.”

“Ignore him as well,” you said, “It’s just uh… You know. Rich people. They have no manners.”

He tilted his head, confused, and you waved at Kenzie who climbed the stairs at full speed and waved at you back, then pressed a hand over her chest at the sight of Spencer and winked at you before rushing inside as well.

“Anyway,” you tried to change the topic, “So I owe you breakfast then. Do you want it before or after my next emotional breakdown?”

He smiled softly, “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Oh you have no idea how much I do,” you murmured, “Do you want to get Honey Cinnamon French toast the next time? It’s full of sugar, you’d like that. Considering your coffee choices.”

His jaw dropped, “It’s not that bad!”

“I took one sip of your coffee one day while we were dating and thought I’d get into sugar coma.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Don’t you have statistics about how it’s bad for you?”

He nodded at the cigarette between your fingers, “Do you want to hear the statistics for that too?”

“You’re on thin ice, professor,” you pointed at him, making him laugh but then both of you turned your heads when you heard your name being called. Your mother looked between you, then smiled and stepped closer.

“Dr. Reid, it’s lovely to see you again,” she said politely, “Y/N honey, why are you outside?”

“Waiting for you,” you stubbed the cigarette, “I was the first to get here.”

“I know, the driver kept going into different roads because-“

“Accident. Yeah, Mina told me.”

“Let’s go inside, it’s about to start,” she said and you looked up at him.

“So I should-“

“Yeah,” he nodded, “I should probably find Luke. It was nice to see you again, Ms Knight.”

“You too Spencer,” she said and linked her arm through yours as you walked inside, “Anything I should know about?”

“We’re just talking, mom.”

She arched a brow, “I don’t know who you got this obliviousness from, but not me,” she said and you turned to look at her.

“Hm?”

“You’d have to be blind not to see the way he looks at you.”

You blinked a couple of times, “The way he looks at me?” you repeated as you approached the table and you took your seat beside Lincoln.

“Had your smoke?” he shot you a look and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Don’t.”

“No really, are you guys sure you broke up? Like, did anyone let him know?”

Kenzie whispered something into Mina’s ear and she smiled, sipping her champagne.

“I’m a better person than you are, so it’s no wonder I have a better friendship with my exes than you do, Linc.”

“Is that what we call batting your eyelashes at your ex nowadays?” he asked and you made a face at him.

“You’re hilarious- should I buy something?” you wondered out loud, “Where’s the catalogue?”

Nolan handed you the tablet and you swiped on the screen.

“Are you buying something?”

“One or two,” Nolan said, “Your mother liked that vase on the page sixteen.”

“I will bid you for that,” your mother joked, making him smile and press a kiss on her cheek, and you downed your champagne before motioning for another.

“How’s your girlfriend?” you murmured to Lincoln and he shrugged his shoulders.

“She’s fine,” he whispered as the auctioneer started talking about the first item, “We had a small argument earlier, but…”

“About what? Did she finally see your real personality?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not taking relationship advice from a girl who’s obviously not over her ex even though she was the one who dumped him-“

“Hey, I’m trying to offer you my infinite wisdom you dickhead,” you whispered, making him chuckle.

“I’ve been working a lot these days, but I have to close this new deal,” he said, “She doesn’t seem to understand that.”

“Why don’t you pay her a visit?”

“Did you miss the part where I said I was working a lot?”

“Lincoln,” you heaved a sigh, “Honestly. If you love this girl, you need to show her that.”

“After I close this deal-“

“No, before you close your deal,” you insisted, “You don’t want to be one of those people who picked wealth over love.”

Lincoln raised his brows, “I guess we know what your pick is.”

“I take all my advice back, I hope your girlfriend dumps you,” you sipped the champagne, making him laugh.

“Come on, I’m just messing with you,” he said, “Do you want me to buy you an extra ugly vase so that you can forgive me?”

“I can buy my extra ugly vases myself, thank you,” you sulked, “Do you know what my problem is?”

“Hm?”

“I’m surrounded by love,” you nodded at Kenzie and Mina who seemed to be in their own worlds and your mother and Nolan who held hands over the table, listening to the auctioneer, “It’s like being surrounded by booze when you’re trying to go sober.”

“Hey if it makes you feel any better, my relationship is in shambles too.”

“It will stop being in shambles the moment you stop being a stubborn ass,” you murmured, still holding the fragile glass in your hand but as soon as you took another sip, your mother raised her brows, looking at someone over your shoulder, Mina narrowed her eyes and you felt someone’s presence behind you. The lovely scent filling your nostrils said it was Spencer, and your suspicion was proven when you heard a low whisper in your ear.

“Come with me.”

The champagne you were drinking went down the wrong tube and you started coughing before you stared up at him, convinced that you had just imagined that, considering it wasn’t the first time you were hearing that only in a different context.

“I’m sorry?” you managed to stammer and he frowned at your reaction, then nodded at the door.

“Outside?” he said and it dawned on you,

“Right, outside,” you murmured as you tried to pull yourself together and pushed your chair back.

“Y/N?” Mina said warningly but you shook your head.

“It’s fine, I’ll be right back,” you said as you stood up and felt Spencer’s hand on your lower back as he guided you out of the hall, his skin on yours sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. As soon as you stepped out of the hall he turned to you, his eyes searching yours frantically.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice and you pulled your brows together, trying to understand what he was talking about.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be okay?” you asked “I’m having the time of my life trying to pick between an ugly vase and an ugly painting. Seen anything you like yet? It’s for charity.”

“No, Y/N-“ he nibbled on his lip and you stared at him for a moment before your breath got caught in your throat and your hand shot up to hold his arm.

“Another murder?” you whispered, “God, did someone die? That’s why you’re being like this?”

“We just found her a block away.”

“Do I- do I know who it is?” you asked numbly and he pulled out his cellphone to show you the picture and you gasped, covering your mouth as soon as you saw the screen.

It was that woman who had bumped into you just at the beginning of the night, the one who had walked away without apologizing.

“I just…” you swallowed the lump in your throat, “I think I saw her tonight. But it- she- she was just alive, I don’t-“

“The marks show that it just happened. Very recently.”

You could feel the room spinning around you but you tried to pull yourself together.

“But I don’t-“

“Y/N,” he said your name, clearly this time, “I was talking to you probably around the time it was happening, but you mentioned you were the first one to get here right?”

You nodded slowly, “Yeah, the traffic. Well, that and the meetings and the babysitter- how is that relevant?”

Spencer fell into silence, taking a deep breath and you looked up at him.

“What?” you asked again and he stole a look at the hall.

“Obviously there’s no evidence to show this yet and I might be wrong, but do you want to know what I think?” he asked and you nodded again.

“Yes?”

“I think you were sitting with the copycat killer just now.”

You blinked dumbly, your brows furrowed in thought and slowly, very slowly that ice in your veins made its way through your system, a tingling spreading from the base of your neck up to your head. You could feel the panic crashing down on you before you turned your head to look at the your table, Mina and Kenzie watching you, Lincoln playing with his phone and your mother and Nolan having a quiet conversation. Spencer’s words echoed in your head, drowning out every single noise coming from the hall.

I think you were sitting with the copycat killer just now.

“Oh,” you breathed out, closing your eyes, “Fuck.”

Chapter 23