#I can’t quite put it into words. but it taps into a part of me

[proxolagist]

ID under the cut

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Clay Puppington from Moral Orel. He’s leaning forward with an angry expression, lit from the front by a harsh red light. There is smoke coming up around him to form a silhouette of a wolf behind him, framing the taxidermied head of the hunting dog from the episode Nature Pt. 1. End ID]

[luveline]

𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡? | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧

you finally work up the courage to kiss Eddie for the first time and he can’t cope (even if he claims he can). 2k words. requested here

cw fem!reserved/shy!reader, first kiss, heavy kissing, mutual pining, eddie being a hot dork

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Some people (Steve) call Eddie your loser boyfriend, while other people (the girls at work) call him the rockstar. 

You see both sides of him now. 

“Sweetheart!” he calls, the passenger seat window rolled down, his voice strong where he shouts behind the wheel. The van bumps the curve, leaving a sanguine line of rust in its wake and a creak to make everybody on the sidewalk wince. 

“Hello,” you call back. 

The van hums. You wait for him to be at a definite stop before you approach, hands on the open window, leaning up so as to see him best. It’s not just a usual date night tonight, Eddie’s taking you to Indianapolis for a rock show, and he’s dressed the part. “Woah, you look cool,” you say, bravely, wondering if that’s the right thing to say. It’s undoubtedly true —he’s slicked his curls with mousse to define them and leave them pitch black in accordance with his eyeshadow, dark and tapped into his lash line. The top he wears is incredibly tight, carving the softer lines of his abs for anyone to see, and his black jacket is ripped in places to expose the ink of his tattoos. “Are they multiplying?” 

“What?” he asks, grinning at you. “Are you getting in? It’s freezing!” 

“Your tattoos,” you explain, opening the door and popping up into the van with one shoe on the step. 

“Shit, you wanna see?” 

You’re not scared of Eddie, you just like him. He doesn’t worry you, doesn’t pressure you, nothing nefarious about him. He’s pretty, he’s considerate, and he does stuff like this, peeling out of his jacket to flex his arm at you and show you the Saran wrapping around his bicep. “Like that one?” he asks.

He has nice arms, and they’re all the better for his painful obsession. His newest one is difficult to see well under the wrapping. He notices you squinting and moves it up, tape pulling his skin. 

“Another bat?” you ask. 

“Not cool?” 

“So cool,” you disagree. This bat is unlike the others on his arm, which are small and simple in comparison. This one is heavily detailed and very dark, fangs in small triangles bared. The eyes aglow. The skin around it is red. “Did you get that today?” 

“On a whim. Still wanna date me, or is it getting to be too much?” 

You can’t answer him, and he knows that. You’re not very good at navigating intimate conversation or circumstance, though you like him, and he must know that too. Or he must really like you. Your dates have been chaste. Only last time could you work up the courage to take his hand, but when you had, he rewarded your courage with a drove of tenderness, fingers rubbing your knuckles and squeezing soft patterns for hours at the back of the movie theatre. 

The drive to Indianapolis takes near enough an hour. Eddie puts you on map duty but doesn’t use it, ignoring your offer of directions on the insistence that he knows a shortcut and then rerouting when you get too lost. He tells you there are snacks for you in the centre console and laughs, endeared, when you pop the lid and smile at it all. You talk about the show, a band you’d never heard of but had wanted to see on the grounds of sharing his interests. That’s what couples do, right? They try to do things together. You have to put yourself out of your comfort zone, and you’re happy to try if it means you can do it with him. 

“You nervous?” he asks, pulling into the parking garage outside of the venue, a towering, multi-story fiasco crammed with cars and motorbikes. 

“No,” you say, not quite mumbling as you look down at your hands. 

“Good, don’t be. I’m gonna look after you, we’re gonna have a great time. And then we can get takeout after?” You look up. He stretches his arm out to glance at his watch. “I would’ve taken you before, but good old Indianapolis keeps getting further away.” He smiles apologetically. 

You laugh without meaning to. His smile ramps up a notch. 

“I love when you laugh. You have such a cute laugh,” he says. 

“I know you’re lying,” you say, still laughing anyways. 

“I’m not lying, I love the way you laugh!” He shakes his head, curls falling away from his face as he flicks on the light on the car roof. “We have half an hour till doors open.”

“You don’t wanna line up?” 

“It’s kind of overwhelming and I figured we’d stay near the back of the crowd for your first gig here, it gets pretty rowdy.” He says ‘pretty rowdy’ like a drag, nodding gently, eyes lit with mirth. You love it when he talks like that. 

“We can go now, get further in. I can handle it.” 

“It’s not about handling it, I want you to have a good time. Plus, they could ruin your nice dress.” 

You meet his gaze all smiles like he is, but heat flickers in your chest and in your stomach, and you have to look away. It’s an impulse you’ve always given into. You’re reserved in the feelings department but trying not to be, Eddie deserves reciprocation, but it’s hard. Either way, he seems to understand this about you, and he hasn’t complained. 

Still, a bedraggled silence falls. Nearly awkward, unsure of how to tread, you sit together in your separate seats listening to cars parking and doors opening, closing on either side of you, the headlights of the cars driving past glaringly bright, white flashing over your screwed palms. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

You’re sure Eddie wants to kiss you. Three nights ago at the movies, after an hour of languid hand holding, he’d looked at your lips no less than three times as he said good night. He told you he’d had an amazing time, and that he couldn’t wait to see you again. You’d said the same in earnest, and then he’d just walked away. All those stolen glances and he hadn’t made a move. 

“Eddie… why…” You poke your tongue into your bottom lip momentarily, chewing it over. “Why haven’t we kissed yet?” 

“Um–” He lets out a nervous giggle before roughly clearing his throat. You peek at him, watching intently as he takes his hair away from his face with two hands. “I’m just waiting on you, sweetheart. No pressure.” He laughs as he talks, a picture of panic, “You’re sort of shy about that stuff, you know? I didn’t wanna surprise you.” 

“But you do want to kiss me?” you ask unsurely.

He puts his hand on your knee, the space between you suddenly smaller and warmer, the light like white glaze on his pupils, illuminating his finer details. He has a mole nestled under his eyelashes too small to see until now; it catches your attention. You stare at him too long. 

“Of course I do,” he says, eyebrows pinching together in concern. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since I met you.” 

You nod and snap your head back to your lap. Why does he have to be so nice? You wish you’d listened to Steve, even if he was joking, you shouldn’t have ever said yes to Eddie, because now you’re terrified you can’t kiss him and you’ll ruin everything…

“Hey, it’s fine. I’m not waiting for anything. You can take your time or you could never kiss me, and I won’t care. I swear. I mean, I really want you to kiss me but I’ll find a way to cope, I’m sure.” He takes his hand from your leg softly. “Do you want my jacket? It’s cold out, n’ we should probably start walking.” 

You pull your head up slowly. 

He reads your hesitant expression. “I’m in no rush,” he promises, head ever so slightly ducked to yours. 

Okay, you think. Okay, I can do this. You hold your breath and start to lean in. He falters, a millisecond of misunderstanding, before he recognises what you’re doing and smiles. He reaches for your waist with enough care to give you a chance to change your mind, and when you’re close enough to feel his breath, his lashes shutter. 

You follow suit, blind, with nothing but your intuition as you press your lips to his. 

With a feeling like the hum of the engine under your hands, you bring your fingers to his soft cheek and hold him still. He breathes in harshly, touches you far from it, his palm slipping behind your back to pull you in. You lean into it; it feels natural to give in, to turn your head one way and part your lips, to have him kiss back with heat and surprising sweetness.

You feel unlike yourself in a good way, falling back to kiss forward again, a third time, trying to chase the lulling bliss of his lips. The stomach aching want. Your hand chases across his cheek and into the curls behind his ear, needing him closer but not expecting the sound it elicits. He sighs into your lips and you flinch back, startled by the sensation. 

Eddie rubs your back with his index finger, unjudging as you drop your head to catch your breath. 

“You okay?” he asks quietly. You can hear his affection. It’s palpable. 

You nod, a dizzy weight collected in your forehead, thankful when his free hand catches your cheek and he turns your face gently to the side. “I got too hot,” you confess, only half of the truth. 

“It was pretty hot.” He smiles at you like you’re the only person in the world, like you’ve a secret only he knows. “Want me to turn on the A/C?” 

“No, I–” want to kiss you again, you think. You might even tell him so, but he starts to blow on your face, disrupting any thoughts you’d had earlier. He purses his lips and blows cold breath on your cheek, a tenderness in his gaze and the tip of his thumb where it rests just under your eye. “Oh.” 

This might be the most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for you. Your face feels precious in his careful hand, pretty under his longing look. You’re not scared when he encourages you back to his lips, your eyes quick to close, your hands across the gap of your seats to gather his shirt between tight fingers. 

His kiss is a reflection of him. Loser, rockstar, he’s eager and his hands start to betray that, his kissing melty hot and addictive as the tip of his nose presses hard to yours. You turn your face to accommodate him better and that small action drives him crazy. He’s pulling you in, smiling into your mouth, making breathy sounds that’ll stick around in your head ten times as long as the tingles filling your chest as just kisses and kisses and doesn’t stop. 

“M’sorry,” he says, pulling away, and then stealing another heavy, soft kiss like he couldn’t wait. “Sorry,” he apologises again, stroking the skin beside your eye to encourage you into opening them. “I’m not trying to get carried away. Just can’t believe you just kissed me.” 

“No, it’s okay, I– I really wanted to.” 

He kisses your cheek. You aren’t expecting it and you don’t know how to deal with it. It’s like kissing him has invigorated him, you’re a shot he knocked back, his excitement catching as he begs, “Close your eyes again, sweetheart, just one more–”

You raise your chin and he practically gasps, immediately pressing a last chaste kiss to your burning lips. 

“I’m not always like this,” he promises, leaning away, his fingertips falling from your face to trace down your neck, your shoulder. “You’re just so fucking pretty I lost my mind. I’m on best behaviour from now on, swears.” 

He raises his hand up in a scout’s honour. 

You breathe out happily. “Thank you.” 

“Oh my god. Quick, we better get out of this van before I lose my mind.” He shakes his head. “You’re insane. I have such a crush on you, holy fuck,” —he turns away from you and gets out of the van— “Jesus.” 

You pull down the sun visor to check your reflection in the mirror. You look thoroughly kissed, eyes aglow with it. 

“Fuck!” Eddie swears. You beam at yourself as he wraps on the window. “Come on, sweetheart! I have a concert to pretend to pay attention to.” 

You slink out of your seat, brave enough to try for another kiss so long as it doesn’t kill him dead right here in the parking lot. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed! I love knowing what you think and it means so much to me/ inspires me to write even more!!! <3 but of course I hope you enjoyed reading regardless :D 

[linoxpudding]

Spaces Between Us - Yang Jeongin

summary: a year later, after the breakup- you run into your ex again, and old feelings start to resurface

pairing: yang jeongin x reader (exes)

genre: angst, fluff, drama

fic type: written + text

P.S this is PART 3 of "prioritizing his girl bsf" au, so please read jeongin's portion in-

PART 1 and PART 2 for context!

a/n: so innie's storyline felt a bit incomplete, but @mrsminseochoi planted such a brilliant idea in my mind that gave it the closure it needed, as soon I read her comment, I just had to write it! @mrsminseochoi you're a genius! ♡

Masterlist

~°~

A few months after the breakup, you get an unexpected message request. It’s from Gina.

For a moment, you just stare at your screen, debating whether to open it. Your heart pounds in your chest—what could she possibly have to say now?

Curiosity wins. With a deep breath, you tap the notification.

Your grip on your phone tightens. Your stomach twists. You knew Jeongin didn’t mean to hurt you, but reading Gina’s confession makes your chest ache all over again.

You imagine Jeongin, the man who once held your heart so gently, now crumbling behind closed doors. The thought alone sends a sharp pang through you.

But it doesn’t fix what happened. It doesn’t erase the heartbreak. But it does give you some sense of closure. You were right all along.

You don’t reply and just block Gina. There’s nothing left to say.

A year later....

Life moves on. You moved on. You focused on yourself, your career, your happiness. You keep telling yourself you're over Jeongin. That you've healed.

But fate has other plans.

It happened on a rainy evening. You enter a quiet café, shaking the cold off your coat as you wait for your drink. And then—

"Y/N?"

The voice freezes you in place. It’s soft, disbelieving, and achingly familiar.

You turn, and your eyes land on him.

Jeongin stands a few feet away, his dark eyes wide with something you can’t quite name. He looks different—his hair is slightly longer, his face sharper, but his expression… it’s the same.

It’s the way he used to look at you. Like you were his entire world.

"I… I didn’t think I’d ever see you again," he softly says approaching you.

"Yeah… It’s been a while," you reply nervously.

He steps closer, hesitant. "Can we talk?"

You don't know why you nod. Maybe it’s curiosity. Maybe it’s something deeper. But soon, you’re sitting across from each other, the air between you both thick with unspoken words.

"You look good. I mean… you always did. But you look happier. Are you?" He asks with a hint of curiosity.

You pause. You like to think you're happy. But seeing him again, the memories flooding back, makes you realize you never fully stopped missing him.

"I am. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard," you said.

Jeongin’s face twists in pain. "I know. And I hate myself for what I put you through. You were right about Gina."

Your breath catches. "She reached out to me."

His eyes widen. "She did?"

You nod. "Told me how she planned it all. How she wanted me out of the picture. That you never meant to hurt me."

Jeongin exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Y/N… I never stopped loving you. Even when I tried, I couldn’t. I lost you because I was stupid, and it’s the worst mistake I’ll ever make."

Tears prick your eyes. You want to be angry. You were angry for so long. But looking at him now, hearing the raw emotion in his voice, something in your heart shifts.

"You really hurt me, Jeongin."

Jeongin sighed, "I know. And if I could take it all back, I would."

Silence lingers between you both, filled with the sound of rain tapping against the windows.

Jeongin hesitates for a moment before asking, voice barely above a whisper, "are you...are you seeing someone else?"

You blink at the unexpected question. His fingers clench slightly against the table, his knuckles turning white. He looks like he’s bracing himself for an answer he doesn’t want to hear.

You exhale, playing with the rim of your coffee cup before replying, "Just a few dates here and there. Nothing serious."

Jeongin visibly stiffens. His jaw tightens, and he looks away for a second, exhaling through his nose, "Oh."

A small, bitter smile plays on your lips. "Jeongin, you don’t have the right to be jealous."

"I know," he sighs, rubbing his face. "I just hate the thought of someone else making you smile the way I used to."

You swallow hard. Every logical part of you tells you to walk away, to protect your heart. But your heart has never listened to logic when it comes to Jeongin.

Slowly, you reach across the table, your fingers brushing his. His breath stutters.

"I don’t know if we can ever be what we were," you confess.

"Then let’s be something new. Something better," he replies quickly, his hands tightening around you.

He looks at you like he’s afraid to move, like he’s afraid to hope.

As you’re sitting across from him, the space between you suddenly feels too large. Every part of you aches to close that gap, to feel his presence closer. Without thinking, you stand up, your movements almost trembling with anticipation. He watches, frozen, as you slide into the seat next to him. The air between you shifts, the tension thickening, and without a word, you lean in, unable to hold back any longer.

Jeongin’s eyes flutter shut as your lips meet, the kiss slow and deep, filled with everything you two never got to say. Regret, longing, love—it’s all there, crashing over you both like a wave.

When you pull away, Jeongin rests his forehead against yours, breathing shakily.

"I love you. I never stopped loving you," he says, his voice cracked slightly.

Your lips curve into a small, bittersweet smile.

"Then let’s see where this takes us," you reply.

Maybe love deserves a second chance.

[misctf]

Country Living

When he stopped to help you on the side of this lonely country road, you couldn’t have been more grateful. You didn’t expect your car to breakdown on these desolate backroads. Nor did you expect a lack of cell service. Your years studying in college didn’t exactly give you the knowledge on how to diagnose and fix cars. But based on all the smoke, you figured something was wrong.

“Aw, don't you worry none, I'm right happy to help y'all out.” He removed his ball cap and ran his hand through his short brown hair, “Name’s Bucky. What brings y'all to this neck of the woods?”

He was certainly taller and more muscular than you- not to mention ripe with the smell of a hard day’s work. And you could tell he was looking you over, the juxtaposition couldn’t have been clearer. Country vs city boy, manual laborer vs keyboard warrior, dropped out of high school vs college educated. The list could go on. But despite the bias you held towards these country folks, you were happy he was helping. And so you introduced yourself and expressed your sincere gratitude. Bucky smiled and gave you a bone crushing handshake.

“Ain't no trouble at all, I'm just glad to help out.” He smiled warmly, his dark eyes, while lacking intelligence, were filled with kindness and just a bit of mischief.

He winks at you and you felt your heart flutter for just a moment. Maybe it was the way his stubble framed his tanned face. Or the way the sweat dripped from his muscular arms as he worked on your car. Or perhaps it was the occasional glances he gave you and the sly smirk that told you he knew you were checking him out.

“I reckon I know what's wrong. Just need to grab a tool from my garage.” He said, wiping the sweat from his brow, “You care to join me? Looks like you could use a sip of somethin’.”

It was true. In the sweltering heat, you were certainly thirsty. And while part of you wanted to stay with your car, you felt beckoned to go with him. And so you did. You climbed into his pick-up truck and watched as he revved the engine. And before long, you were cruising down the old country road with your car disappearing from sight.

“Well, dang if this ain't my favorite tune!” Bucky said, turning up the volume, “You figure you into this kinda music?”

It was some country song. One about cars, beer, and living on a farm. Not something you’d listen to voluntarily. But as Bucky sang in his southern twang, you found your foot tapping along. Soon you were mouthing the words, almost as if you knew the song by heart. And a moment later you joined in with him, the two of you putting your hearts into every lyric. You barely noticed the southern twang that garnished your voice.

“Well, I'll be darned! Can’t believe you like these kinda tunes. No offense intended, but you don't quite fit the mold, do ya?” He says with a chuckle.

Bucky gives your arm a playful punch and you look down at the exposed, tanned skin of your bicep. Your muscles were contracting and seemingly getting larger, highlighted nicely by the wifebeater that clung tightly to your skin. You look up at Bucky and he gives you a wink. Again, you feel comforted by his kind smile and playful dark eyes. You turn away and absentmindedly run a hand over your growing biceps. So firm and tight, the skin somewhat weathered. But deep down you know something isn’t right. Its nagging at you, begging for you to say something. To at least find out what’s happening to you. You want to tell Bucky, but he’s just pulled up to his garage.  

“Mind givin’ me a hand findin’ my toolkit?” Bucky asks. You nod quickly- your anxiety being pushed deep into your subconsciousness. And as Bucky enters the garage, he pulls off his sweaty wifebeater, “Don't pay me no mind, it sure gets mighty hot 'round these parts. You’re welcome to do the same.”

And you follow his example. As you do, you catch a whiff of your pits. The musk that invades your nostrils is a far cry from the vegan deodorant you applied this morning. Moreso, your usually well-trimmed pit hair is now a curly damp bush of dark brown hairs that poke out when you lower your arms. The smell makes you dizzy and you feel like you might fall over, but Bucky lends you a hand.

“Don’t go faintin’ on me now.” He says with a grin, “We got a lotta work to do.”

“Don't you worry 'bout me none, I got this here handled.” You say- the words leaving your mouth without much input from your brain. Bucky’s eyes light up and he grins.

“I shoulda known that.” His laugh fills your ears and you swear it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve heard. He notices you admiring him, “Gotta find those tools now.”

You nod and start rummaging through his garage and workbench. You pick up a wrench and place it down. Then another and another. You never really needed to learn basic mechanic stuff, let alone the names of wrenches. You were more focused on your degree. Your degree in... In...? You stare at the composite wrench in your hand and your eyes narrow. You were studying something at that univer... uni... book-learnin’ place of yours, right? Your thoughts are distracted when some oil spills on your hands.

“Gosh darnit.” You mutter, wiping the oil on your work jeans. Work jeans that were stained and torn from years of laboring.

You turn towards Bucky to say something, but instead find yourself gawking. His perfect stubble across his face, the sweat gleaming on his firm and toned muscles, and the way his chest hairs frame his pecs. Your dick gets hard and you quickly start to massage your bulge. And when you see how well his work jeans fit tightly around his juicy ass, you can’t but help let out a whistle.

“You say somethin’?” He asks, turning to face you, “Yeehaw! Look at you!” He says, clearly gawking.  

You turn to catch a glimpse of yourself in a nearby mirror and your eyes widen. You bounce your juicy pecs, appreciating the light dusting of hairs that decorate them. You raise your thick, meaty arm and flex, causing your muscles to bulge. And then you look at your face. It had squared out a bit, giving it a masculine edge and your cheeks now sported stubble. You felt powerful, and you couldn’t help but continue to flex.

“Hey there big fella.” You let out a masculine moan as Bucky comes from behind you, his arm reaching around, and his hand grabbing a fistful of your muscle tit, “You’re bigger’n a bull in springtime!” You just nod, unable to produce words as pleasure courses through you from his teasing hand, “It sure does get lonesome out here in these parts. Reckon I wouldn’t mind some company, if it ain’t too much trouble.”

He spins you around, your bodies pressing up against one another. His hand moves down your abs and then down your work jeans. He’s staring deep into your eyes now, a primal lust replacing the prior warmth from earlier. And for the first time, you feel lost. Scared even. As though you’re going down a path you wouldn’t be able to back away from. The end of one chapter of your life and the start of another you weren’t sure you wanted.

“Wait a minute... somethin’ don’t feel right. I... this ain’t who I am.” You say, unable to talk like you used to.

“Now, don’t go overthinkin’ it. Just keep your eyes on me.” Bucky whispered, his hands working to undo the buckle on your jeans.

You watch as he pulls down your pants and slowly gets down on his knees. Your enlarged, throbbing dick continues to grow, adding inch after inch. Bucky is nearly salivating as he comes face to face with your monster, and without another word, his tongue traces along the shaft. You moan as his mouth expertly works your cock. He bobs up and down, taking its entirety into his mouth. You feel as his hands wrap around your waist and he grabs a fistful of your muscular ass, causing you to let out another deep, masculine moan. You can feel your dick throbbing, your balls growing heavy with your seed. And as he expertly works the head of your cock, you can feel it. You’re getting close... so close. And then it stops. You’re breathing heavy now, and you look down at him. A sheen of sweat covers your body, dampening your body hair and filling the air with your country musk.

“Wh... why’d ya stop?” You breath out.

Bucky smirks, “You sure 'bout this, darlin’? Leavin’ behind all that city livin’ and book-learnin’? Just you and me, livin’ simple out here?” He licks along your shaft again, “Once you say yes, that’s it. No turnin’ back, no second thoughts. You sure you’re ready for that?”

Was this what he wanted? To bring you so close? To send you into a horny frenzy? To make it so that in this moment, all you’d be able to say was yes? With a smirk and a wink, he went back to sucking your cock. And as he did, you could feel it. You could feel your brain shrinking. Your memories growing up in suburbia vanished. As were your memories of going to college in the city. Nerdy interests like videogames and comic books vanished from your brain, and you felt terror as you forgot about your friends and family. Everything that made you you was vanishing from your mind. Instead, you could feel new interests: farming, hunting, woodworking, lifting weights, and drinking beer with your husband after a long day. Your fashion sense simplified: wifebeaters and work jeans, and honestly going shirtless was preferred. And as your eyes dimmed to reflect your lack of intelligence, and Bucky bobbed up and down on your dick, you finally came, releasing all of who you used to be. And as you filled your husband’s eager throat, you blacked out.

If someone told you who you used to be in your past life, I’m not sure you would go back. When the police came by a few days after your transformation with a missing persons poster of some kid, you had no idea who they were talking about. You quickly forgot all about that encounter. You had more important things like fixing the truck. But before you did that, you should check on Bucky. It’s been a few days, and your balls were mighty full.

[xxblairexxss]

A fresh start

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x singlemom!reader

Theme : Angst, fluff

Word count : 4.2k

Part 2

Requested!

In which Charles had a crush on the new member of the team without knowing he was already a good friend of her toddler.

It gets a little heavy near the end so heads up! Not proofread!

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"There seems to be a problem with the downforce. It kind of eats the tyre quite a lot."

Charles felt a touch on his hip while he was too busy listening to the engineers. Looking down, he saw a small kid patting on his leg, while the other hand seemed to be offering him something. "Hey, are you giving this to me?" He asked, pulling the headset from his ear as he crouched down.

"Yeah! My mom always gives me candy whenever I am stressed with my homework. You can—oh." The little kid fumbled with the wrapping paper that was securely wrapped around the lollipop. "I can’t take the plastic off for you. Sorry…"

"Oh, it’s okay. Let me help you." Charles twiddled with the wrapper as it went loose before he pulled it off. "There! Oh, for me? Are you sure?"

"No stress! Bye bye!" The toddler waved and sprinted off, leaving Charles with the strawberry lollipop in his hand.

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"Any idea who she is?" Charles nudged Joris and tipped his chin towards the girl who was across the room.

"She’s part of the communication executive." Joris took a quick glance and went back to his phone.

"I have never seen her before." His eyes were latched on the girl, seeing the way she talked with her hands, nodding and smiling at whatever the other girl was talking about.

"She just joined the team."

"What’s her name?" Charles nudged Joris again, causing him to heave a sigh and stand up.

"Y/N!" Joris called out.

"Joris! What the fuck?" Charles slapped his friend’s leg and looked away. The phone in his hand seemed to be looking much more interesting, though it wasn’t even turned on. While his fingers were dancing and tapping on any random buttons on his phone, his ears were listening to the conversation—well, more like listening to her voice. It was weird how he had never seen her before, but Joris seemed to be getting along with her very well.

"That was Y/N." Joris gave a smile, stealing a peep from Charles’s phone, and laughed when he saw it was on camera, capturing Charles’s face from an angle below. "Nice picture, by the way. Is that why you couldn’t stop looking at it when she was here?"

"Very unnecessary, Joris. You could have just told me her name." He threw his cap on and stood up to leave the room.

"I thought you wanted to get to know her." Joris exclaimed, seeing his best friend walking away.

"I can figure that one myself!"

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"Charlie!"

"Hey, Adam! Give me a five!" He bent down as the little one hopped and touched their hands together. This has been his fourth time seeing him, and every single time, his visit would get longer and longer. The first time he met the kid, he just dropped by to give him candy and walked away. This time, he came by with candy and shared a few little jokes and games.

"Do you always wander around the paddock alone? Your dad never gets mad." He ripped the top off the candy and handed it to the kid.

"No, mommy won’t be mad if I just stay around the red garage. Oh! Sour!" His face scrunched up, making the driver cackle.

"Oh? You’re with your mom? Dang, this is sour." He made a face and shivered as the sourness hit.

"Yeah, I’m with mommy! Daddy is…" He looked down, his bottom lips jutting out. Charles knew right away it wasn’t something light if this was the reaction coming from a 4-year-old kid, so he cut the topic short.

"You don’t have anything sweet in there? I’m not a fan of sour candy."

Adam patted his pockets and shook his head. "No more candy! I stole that from mommy. Shh, she didn’t know." He put his pointy finger on his lips and giggled.

"Your secret is safe with me, buddy. I have to go. See you around, Adam!" Charles stood up and gave the little one a pat on the head before he went to get Andrea for his short meeting before the press conference.

"This will be your..." 

Charles was slapped with what felt like a brick when it was just a file of papers, but the sting was unexpected, causing him to lean back as he covered one side of his face with his hand.

"Oh! I’m so sorry! Are you okay? Did I just slap you?"

Chuckling, he shook his head and pressed his palm on his eyes—the ones that just got slapped on. "No, no. Well, yes, I’m okay. Are you–"  Her beauty from up close astounded him, erasing all vocabularies in his head as he went blank. "You are beautiful," he muttered.

"Sorry?"

"Oh? Oh, nothing. Y/N, right?" He offered a handshake with the widest grin. "I’m Charles."

"Everyone knows who you are, Charles." You laughed, accepting the handshake. "How do you know my name? I never properly introduced myself."

"Oh, Joris told me." He answered, his eyes still on her, making him look like a fool without realising it.

"Do you have anything else to say? Because I need to." She pointed the other way. "I need to head there."

He pulled himself back to his senses and stepped aside. "Oh, sorry about that. I’m not going to hold you any longer."

"Sorry about that. Good luck in the qualifying round!"

"Oh, wait! Is this yours?" He crouched down and took the sour candies on his feet. The same one he got from the kid

"Oh, yeah! Must have slipped off my hand. Thank you!"

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"Mommy, look!"

You took the paper that he handed to you and cackled at the drawing. "What is this, sweetheart?"

"Guess, mommy! Look, I drew the moustache too." He pointed at the little lines, wearing the proudest smile.

"A moustache? Is that a cat?"

"Yes! Like the one we used to have!" He started collecting all of his marker pens and coloured pencils, placing them in his small pencil case as he saw you start packing your stuff. "Are we going back already?"

"Yeah, mommy’s all done with my work, so we can head back early. Should we go on a little date and get ice cream?" Shutting down your laptop, you placed them in the case when Adam seemed to be rushing to go somewhere with his little backpack. "Where are you going?"

"Mommy, wait! I haven’t met Charlie!"

"What even is Charlie?" You muttered, picking up the missing marker pens he had missed for rushing.

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"Hey, munchkin! I was waiting for you." Charles grinned and offered his hand for a high five. "Where have you been?"

"Oh! I’m going back already. Wait!" He sneaked his little hand into his pocket and frowned when he couldn’t find the thing he was looking for. Charles then saw him pull his arms off his small backpack and sneak his little hand inside the small compartment. "This is for you!"

"You are going home? Why?" Taking the small Mars bar from the little one, he kept it in his hand as he helped him put on his backpack again.

"Mommy’s done with her work early today, so I’m going out on a date!"

Charles grabbed his little arm before he could sprint away. "You? You are going out on a date? Wait, with who?"

"Adam!"

The driver’s facial expression went blank as he heard the voice. The little arm in his hand slipped off as he saw the little one run and hug the legs of the woman he has been dying to talk to over the past couple of months.

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"Mommy!"

You ruffled his hair as he crashed into you. "Have you met your Charlie?" Bending down, you squeezed his chubby cheeks as you took his hand in yours.

"Yes! That’s Charlie!" He exclaimed, pointing at someone.

You saw Charles still crouching down with a Mars bar in his hand. He was already looking at you as you laid your eyes on him. He looked surprised and stunned, as he didn’t seem to catch the smile you gave.

"He's—he’s yours? Adam, is your kid?" He queried, taking steps closer.

"Yeah, he’s my son. Wait–" Looking down, you cupped his little cheek. "Adam, Charlie, is Charles? Is this the friend you have been giving your candy away to?"

"Yes!" he squealed.

You thought he had been making friends with a cat or any other person, but not with an actual driver, because who would have thought he would have the most time in the world to be friends with a 4-year-old kid? "I’m so sorry if he had been bothering you. I truly had no idea about that.”

"It’s okay, Y/N. I got free candies." He showed the Mars bar he had in his hand, making you chuckle.

"I am going out on a date with mommy. Do you want to come?"

His words became a mumble as you quickly covered his mouth. "Charlie is busy, Adam." Tilting your head back and facing the driver, you asked the little one to wave before walking away. "I’ll get going now. Say bye, Adam."

"Bye, Charlie!"

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"What’s with that smile?" Joris peeked his head to look at the little kid, who kept looking back every now and then to wave his little hand at the driver.

"Nothing." Charles ripped off the Mars bar in his hand and took a bite of it, cocking his brow at Joris, who seemed to have more questions. "What?"

"Nothing." He mimicked Charles’s expression and moved away before he could get hit in the head.

"You didn’t tell me she had a kid." Charles blurted.

"I thought you wanted to figure it out yourself. Why? Does it change anything?"

"What do you mean?" He queried, taking another bite from the chocolate bar.

"Does it change your little crush on her now that you know she has a kid?"

"No, not at all. I like her even more now." He chuckled and did a double take on his friend. "Wait, how do you know I have a crush on her?"

"Because you aren’t being too discreet about it. I bet Adam knew it too. Give me that." Joris snatched the chocolate bar from the driver’s hand and took the last bite. "You shouldn’t eat too much sweet for your diet, you know."

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"Adam, I need your help." The sound of music in the room was cut off when the driver finally spoke what had been in his head for weeks. Charles was lying down on the couch in his driver room with his little friend, while the little one was too busy colouring the dinosaur from his book.

"More candy?" He asked, switching to a different colour pencil from his case.

"No, not candy. I wanted to ask your mom on a date." He put his phone away and sat up, looking at the little one full of anticipation.

"No."

"Wait, what? Why?" Charles stood up and took a seat by Adam’s side. He casually started participating in the colouring activity as he took a blue pencil and started filling in the tail section of the dinosaur. "I thought we were friends?"

"Mommy only goes on a date with me."

"She might want to go on a date with me." He assured him, helping him change to a different coloured pencil.

"I don’t want mommy to cry again, so, no. I need to go now!" He stood up and packed his colourful stuff inside his little backpack with the help of the driver.

"I won’t make her cry, Adam." Charles handed him his colouring book as the toddler stood up to leave.

"That’s what Daddy used to say too. Bye bye, Charlie!"

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"Charlie hurt?" 

"Yes, sweetheart. He crashed today, so you shouldn’t bug him, okay? Just stay here." You pinched his little cheek before handing him his iPad. "Not too long. Turn it off when mommy says so, alright?"

Adam did listen to you and stayed in the break room while you sorted out a few things before race day tomorrow. There wasn’t any meeting until the next hour, so you got to do your work while listening to your kid watch Coco ten times this weekend.

Until you heard a knock on the door,

"Hi. Uhm, I’m looking for Adam." Your eyes widened as the driver peeked his head inside the room.

"Charlie!" He put his iPad to the side and hopped off the couch to run straight into Charles’s arms.

"Why didn’t you come to see me?"

"Mommy said I shouldn’t bug you. Are you okay?" You chuckled when he cupped the driver’s cheeks with his small hands.

"Yeah, I’m okay. Wait, actually, not really."

To that, Adam gasped and covered his mouth with his hands. "Oh, no! You need candy?"

"Come here." Charles pulled your son to the end of the room, so you were no longer able to eavesdrop on the conversation.

You saw those two start whispering something, giggling, and laughing while you were left out. "Bye Charlie!" He waved as the driver trod, leaving the break room.

"Bye, munchkin. See you, Y/N. You look beautiful in a ponytail, by the way."

You were taken back by the sudden compliment, and your hand went to stroke your hair now that he mentioned it. "But I always have my hair tied?"

"Yeah, that’s what I meant." He gave a wink before walking away, leaving you and your toddler, who seemed to find the whole situation funny.

"What did he tell you?" You tried to pry into their business, acting casual by going back to your work.

"It’s a secret!" He winked, which looked more like a face scrunch as he went back on his iPad, making you frown in confusion.

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"Go! Open the door!"

"I can’t. Give me a second."

"Why?"

"I’m nervous, buddy."

"I’ll open it for you!"

"No, no!"

You were staying in the break room, playing with your phone while your little one stayed outside, watching an army of people in the paddock celebrate the drivers on the podium. He had promised to stay just outside the room so you wouldn’t have to worry about him being in the crowd, but minutes later, you kept hearing whispers right outside the door. You weren’t sure who the owner of the other one was, but you were so sure one of them belonged to your son.

"Mommy?" 

"The door is not locked, love. Just come in." You replied and went back to your phone, expecting him to walk in, but he didn’t.

"Go, Charlie!”

"Is there anything wrong?" Placing the phone away, you pushed the door open and saw that your toddler kept on pushing the driver towards your door. "Charles? Do you need anything?"

"Y/N. Actually–"

"Charlie wants to ask you out on a date!" Adam cut in.

The words made you flabbergasted. That was impossible. Why would he ask you out on a date when every woman he met on a daily basis dressed up way better and had better body shape than you?

And they were single. While you were a divorcee, you even had a kid.

"Stop joking around, Adam. Leave Charlie alone, okay?" Adam hid behind the driver as you tried to grab his arm, giggling while hugging Charles’s legs.

"Would you go out on a date with me?"

You gave a dry smile and shook your head right away. "Sorry, Charles. I have a kid, remember? Who’s going to take care of him if I—“

"Joris will play with me! Right, Charlie?" He pulled on the Ferrari’s shirt, chuckling as he felt Charles’s hand on his neck.

"Joris agreed to take care of Adam for one night. They are best friends." Charles assured.

"I can’t, Charles. I’m so sorry."

He followed you inside while Adam stayed outside to find Joris. "But why?" You ignored him. "Y/N, why?"

"I should be asking you that. Why me? I don’t get it. I have a kid, Charles." You took your phone and started taking your laptop bag.

"And what’s wrong with that?"

"Nothing’s wrong, but you have all those hot girls ready for you to ask them out. I am way out of your league, Charles." 

He held your arm to stop you from walking out of the room. "I got Adam’s permission, and I promised him that I was going to take you out. Please give me a chance."

"How did you get his permission?"

You saw him awkwardly smile as he scratched the back of his neck. "He promised me his permission if I ended up in the top 5 this weekend."

Laughing, you rolled your eyes at how ridiculous the deal was.

"Is that a yes?" He tilted his head, having a little faith in how the tension in the room seemed to die down.

"Fine. Just one date."

To that, he bit his lips and threw up a fist. "Yes! You’ll be in Maranello next weekend, yeah? I’ll pick up."

"Sure, I’ll send you the address."

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"Be nice to Joris, alright?"

"Mommy looks very pretty!" He placed both of his palms on your cheeks and gave you a kiss before hugging you by the neck. "Have fun with Charlie! Let me know if he makes you cry, and I’ll." He showed you his little fist. "I’ll hit him!"

Giggling, you kiss him back on his cheek. "I thought you said he was nice."

"Yeah, Charlie is very nice. That’s why I let him take mommy out on a date." He ran towards the main door as Joris helped put his sneakers on. "Bye mommy!"

Back then, when he was born, you always worried if you were able to raise him all on your own. If you could take on both responsibilities as his mother and father figure at a young age, You were grateful enough, as he had grown up to be a very gentle and cheerful kid, despite what he had witnessed occasionally whenever your ex-husband paid a visit. He was never a good dad. He never wanted to be one. Adam barely called him dad. He never knew what it felt like to have a dad, but he would always reassure you that he was glad enough to have the perfect mom. Though you tried to keep your marriage problems between you and your ex-husband, Adam was smart enough to figure out what his dad was like. Whenever your ex-husband came by, you would always get bruises on your body. Maybe that was why your little one grew up to be very protective of you, despite his age.

Charles had told you he was a few minutes away, so you weren’t expecting to see your former spouse when you opened the door.

"Where are you going?" He pushed the door and walked inside as if he had any right to do so.

"It’s none of your business. Please leave."

"It’s my house. Where’s Adam? And why are you all dressed up?" He scanned you up and down, smirking as if you looked humorous.

"Leave, please."

"Come on, baby. I haven’t seen you for months. I have missed you."

You pressed your lips into a thin line, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. Whenever you were home, he would always come by to ask for sex. He would beat you up if you ever resisted any of his attempts, but you would rather get beaten than be in the same bed with him again. You were just glad Adam wasn’t here to witness it all again. "Leave me alone!" You yelled, pushing him off from pinning your body against the wall.

"You fucking bitc—who’s that?" His hand, which was about to hit you in the face, came to an abrupt stop when the doorbell rang.

"It’s no one." The doorbell rang again.

"Go and open the door. It’s fucking annoying." He pushed you on your head, making you jerk forward towards the door.

You wiped on your tears that rolled down your cheeks before twisting the lock as you were greeted by Charles, with his dimples that went shallow as soon as he saw you.

"Y/N? Are you crying?"

You let out a sob and tilted your face away from the tears that rolled down your cheeks again. "I’m sorry, I can’t make it today."

"What’s wrong? Did something happen?" He gently tilted your face and felt his stomach drop when he saw your broken expression. "What happened, Y/N?"

"I–" You sobbed again.

"She wants you to leave, kid."

Charles pushed the door wider as he walked in and stood in front of you. "Who are you?"

"I’m her husband."

You felt his hand on your arm as he pulled you closer; his gaze was still locked on the older guy.

Charles let out a chuckle, seeing how absurd this whole situation was. "So, you are the ex-husband. Well, I don’t think it was me who wasn’t supposed to be in here."

"Kid, this is my house, and that bitch that you are touching is mine." He snarled.

"Don’t call me that. And she’s not yours." Charles furrowed at the man, feeling your hand gripping his arm.

"Ah, so she’s yours now? Did you claim her yet?"

"She’s not mine. She’s no one's possession because she’s not a fucking item. You should leave." His teeth were clenched as his gaze pierced the man. "Leave before I call the cops on you."

"I’ll get going first, baby. See you when this motherfucker is gone, yeah?" You flinched when you felt his cold skin on your cheek.

"Don’t fucking touch her." Charles yanked his hand away and locked the door after the older man was gone, leaving you and him alone.

"Did he hurt you?" Charles cupped on your face, heaving a sigh of relief when there wasn’t anything serious as you shook your head at his question.

Charles wanted to ask a lot of questions, but you were still shaken up by the whole thing, so he grabbed you by your hand as both of you settled down on the couch.

"You can leave, Charles. I’m sorry for ruining your night."

"It wasn’t your fault, Y/N. And who said the date was ruined? Adam told me you love pizza, so are you up for a pizza night?" He found himself grinning when he saw that little smile on your beautiful face.

It was supposed to be a romantic dinner date; instead, you were sitting on the couch with a box of pizza while watching a Disney movie. Charles had to pick out the pineapple on every slice of pizza and vocally judged you on your preference because there was no way he could eat a pizza with a pineapple together.

But it was a very fun night. It was enough to make you completely forget what had happened earlier, but enough to not make the day all about that.

"Y/N, can I ask something?" He picked out another pineapple, trying so hard not to make a disgusted face, which made you laugh.

"Is this about what happened?" You confirmed.

"Yeah, but if you don’t feel comfortable answering, then it’s fine." Charles took a bite of his now pineapple-free pizza.

"No, it’s okay. You can ask." You collected the pineapple he picked off and ate it on its own.

"How long?"

"How long has it been since he did that? It was on and off. If he got a new girlfriend, he would stop coming by for a couple of months." You saw the look he had on you, and it made you feel sad at how bad your life has turned out to be.

"You didn’t report to the police?"

"I did, but I never got any further updates. I even tried to move away, but he always managed to find me back. Which is why I’m always happy whenever I have to travel for work. That way, he won’t be able to ruin my life, and Adam could live his life as a child without having to worry about me." You looked away as you started to clean up the empty box as an excuse so you wouldn’t have to look at his face any longer or you would be crying again.

"I’ll see what I can do. It’s about time for the authority to take action about this. I promise I’ll help you."

"Thank you, Charles. I owe you a lot. I really don’t know how to pay you back." You beamed and dipped your hand in the small box.

"You still owe me a proper date?"

"Fine, make it the second date. Do you want candy?" You handed him one as you popped one in your mouth.

"Ah!" Charles blurted it out, making you jump. "How could I miss this?" He took the sour candy and burst out laughing. It was the same candy that he had been getting from Adam way before he found out he was related to you. "Adam had been stealing your sour candies all this time to share them with me."

"Really?" You laughed along, connecting the dots as to why your candy seemed to be way less than it should have been.

"Guess I love sour candies now." He threw one into his mouth and shivered at the sourness.

✧.* general tag list! @i83andrew @cltrlne @karmabyfernando @ohthemisssery @ru-kru @tastebaldwin @f1obessed @love4lando @shinrjj @ietss @leclerc13 @darleneslane @buckybarnessweetheart @xcinnamongirl @boiohboii @formula1mount @judespoision

If your usernames were crossed, meaning I can’t tag you! Let me know if you would like to be removed or to be added to the tag list! Or if I missed anyone!

[bluejeanstrash]

tags: boyfriend! seungcheol x reader, 18+, mdni, having piv sex for the first time but seungcheol’s dick is too big :(, size kink, pet names (baby, good girl) | wc: 890

‘fuck, baby’ seungcheol says in a breathy whisper, dragging his teeth up his bottom lip.

‘fuck, you can barely take it’ he shudders, seeing how your walls are being stretched open trying to take his thickness. there’s something about the way it doesn’t quite fit in there that makes him ache.

‘you-, you’re so big’ there it is. those words again. he never gets tired of you being in awe of his size. he gives you more, and you take it, gripping tight onto his throbbing cock, allowing only a little bit of it inside you. he’s barely past the head when you wince.

‘are you okay?’ you nod, desperate to fit him all the way but your body doesn’t allow it; your cunt tightens making his cock slip out of you.

‘baby, let’s stop. i don’t want to hurt you’ he cooes, his thumb gently stroking your cheek.

‘no, you’re not hurting me. please, put it inside me…i can take it’ your words drive him crazy. how can resist you when you’re begging for his cock like this?

‘baby…’

‘please’ you pout ‘i want to feel all of you in me’

‘yeah? you want all of me?’ his voice is soft. he takes his cock in his palm, stroking himself slowly before resting it on your stomach ‘i’ll be that deep inside you baby’ you look down, feeling a little dizzy seeing where the tip reaches — just a little below your belly button.

‘all the way till there..’ he whispers, making your toes curl.

seungcheol bends, inches away from you ‘i don’t think your tight little pussy can take me’ he mutters against your lips before kissing you, and slowly starts to roll his hips, his cock rubbing on your stomach. his movements are measured, every stroke a reminder of just how deep he’ll be.

‘cheollie, please, i need it’

‘so impatient’ he smiles, kissing you again, sliding his tongue into your mouth. you make out, his languid strokes building your anticipation for the real thing. and just a few minutes later you feel his cock start to leak with his precum, leaving wet streaks of arousal on your stomach. you can’t wait anymore.

‘seungcheol…please’ he’d love to tease just a tiny bit more but seungcheol needs you just as bad.

he gives you one last kiss, and another on your cheek before leaning back. you watch as he grabs his heavy cock, tapping it against your stomach — the sound of which makes you moan. he loves it when you sound needy like that for him.

‘spread open for me baby’ he orders gently as you do, showing him just how soaked and swollen your pussy is for his cock.

‘shit’ and you love it when he sounds needy like that for you.

carefully, he pushes back in as you gasp, immediately squeezing tight. ‘relax...’ you breathe, feeling your body loosen up.

‘that’s it…that’s a good girl’ he gives you just a bit more, warming you up inch by inch ‘fuck, you’re so tight..’

seungcheol can feel you need a little help to fully relax so he brings two of his fingers to his mouth, licking them wet, before placing them on your clit to caress in slow circles. the pressure of him pushing something so heavy into you paired with his light touches is heavenly. ‘a-ah’ and you let him know through your soft moans, those pretty sounds spilling past your parted lips.

‘you’re doing so good’ he praises but when you look down you see he’s just halfway in, a faint look of worry now on your face.

‘okay?’ he notices straight away. you nod, placing your palm flat against his chest.

‘just keep going slowly…and don’t stop’ he grips your waist with both hands, pressing down on your stomach as he pushes further. he’s already drunk on the way you look right now — the soft flush of lust on your cheeks and that wanting look in your half-lidded eyes — but then you grab your breasts, squeezing them sensually and fondling your nipples. he could die of desire.

‘fuck baby, you’re so hot’ he watches you, giving you more of him ‘keep touching yourself like that...just a little…more’ he groans, and with a final push he penetrates you fully, your warmth enveloping him.

‘f-uck, you’re so big’ you whimper, eyebrows furrowed ‘baby you feel so good inside me…so good’ he groans at your praises. seungcheol’s so weak for the way his cock has almost disappeared inside you, and he swears he can see the faint outline of it bulging in your stomach.

‘you feel amazing’ he moans and starts to thrust, giving you only shallow strokes to get used to him.

‘mm, deeper..’ you ask for immediately, fingertips pawing at his skin, making him chuckle.

‘you-’ he pulls out completely, leaving you empty and aching all at once. you can feel his wet tip hovering near your wetter entrance, pressing against it teasingly ‘-are so impatient’

‘why are you in such a hurry, baby?’ he leans in to give you a kiss, pulling back to look at you ‘we’ve got all night-’ and suddenly, in one single stroke he pushes his entire length back in as you gasp ‘-and i’m just getting started with you’

[phantomsies]

plaything • onyakopon - kinktober part two

“..let’s roleplay, wear a disguise..”

kink: cosplay kink

📝: plus size black reader, bondage, use of multiple toys, sex tape, squirting, missionary, latex + leather, collar/leash, throatfucking, breeding, rough-ish themes, dom ony

📃: I don’t know how long it’ll take me to do these but I’m determined to finish lmao!

═✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿═══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

“You know you look good as fuck, right?..” a deep tone grumbled from behind the lens of a mounted iPhone as a beam of light glared directly at you. A sheepish smile would stretch across your once made up face, along with a playful giggle.

“You think so?”

“You gone make me nut just lookin’ at you, baby. Imma fuck the shit out of you..”

his words seemed to trail off into a pitiful moan as the male stroked his erect cock to the sight of you. That lengthy member, seeping with precum and saliva from the tip after relentlessly assaulting your throat as you head lies upside down from the edge of the bed. The sensation of gliding back and forth inside of that constricting, wet warmth; mimicking that of your insides was enough to drive him insane. Feeling your mouth and lips wrap around that shaft and suction with pure ease was unreal. You didn’t gag or even falter once. Granted, you couldn’t push away even if that’s what you desired. As at the moment, your hands were restrained. Along with your ankles, that were neatly separated by a steel spreader bar and your wrists hung from the center of the device. You were completely at his whim and ready for the taking.

“Then hurry uppp..I need you..quit playinggg..”

it was that whiny plea that nearly made him pound you into the mattress right then. However, he was biding his time until he could have you again. Not only did he need a moment of rest, but he needed to ensure that every second of this glorious, debaucherous footage was captured on camera! Since you and Ony began dating some months ago, the relationship had been nothing but bliss and adventure. Not only had you two grown as individuals but as a couple as well. Your friendship certainly helped to lay that foundation. He asked you to be his shortly after you guys wound up sleeping together the night before a convention. Needless to say, after he got a taste of you, he couldn’t let go…and the feeling was mutual. It was never a dull moment and having someone to share your love of geek and nerd culture with as more than a friend was the icing on the cake. The two of you often went on bookstore dates, scouring the manga section for hours, in between coffee breaks. You’d go to arcades, anime cafes that were nearby and even attended a gaming conference for his birthday, where he entered a tournament and won a thousand bucks! When you weren’t out and about, you were teaching him how to craft his own cosplays and watching him play video games. You’d even dress up and create funny TikToks together..it was a blast…

“Don’t worry, baby. I’ll give you what you need..just lay your pretty ass back and lemme take care of you, alright? And you lemme know if you start to feel uncomfortable. You remember our lil’ safe word and if you can’t talk..tap me twice and imma stop, okay?”

“Yes, baby..I understand.”

“Good girl..you know I gotta make you straight.”

but alas, your bonding time isn't limited to wholesome activities. You’d partake in some even more risqué when the chance arised. At the moment, the two of you were and had already begun doing something you never thought possible. However, when your boyfriend approached you with the idea of putting on matching cosplays, having sex and filming it just for the excitement, you couldn’t help but to laugh! You thought the idea was a little insane and granted, your sex life was incredible…this was certainly new. Prior to that night in the hotel, you were a virgin. Never being fully intimate with a man or anyone in any capacity. So to go from that to now fucking your boyfriend in a scantily clad Catwoman cosplay with the crotch torn open and breasts exposed..it was a leap. Now here he was hovering above you, dressed in a skin tight Batman getup, ready to pound you into oblivion! With your legs suspended and pushed back, Ony would position himself to align with that slit. The juices and glimmer of that slick were practically emanating off it as he tapped that cock head against your swollen clit. He’d watch in real-time as those puffy nipples stiffened from the sensation. But alas, you weren’t the only one feeling the effects.

“Fuuuck…your shit feels so good, baby. Imma nut all in this pussy. I swear..” sucking his teeth and whimpering as the friction began to take its toll. He couldn’t withstand it any longer and with a single hand placed into the center of your pudgy tummy, he’d ask if you were ready and with your consent, he’d glide in with pure ease. The way you opened up for him was as if your body were practically inviting him in. The initial pop from that mushroom tip splitting you open was oddly satisfying to your boyfriend.

And you creaming on this dick..them pretty fucking toes all white..oh my God, you know that’s my weakness...” Doting on you whilst getting acclimated and conforming you to his shape. One thing Ony never shied away from was taking a moment to tell you how much he loved you. And all of your features to boot. He’d feed you light yet deep strokes start with..watching your movements carefully to make sure glue could handle it. Once you became automatically receptive to him, he’d speed up and increase his thrusts.

“Looking sexy as hell in that outfit too…you so pretty, baby..my nasty lil’ bitch..” that deep, baritone voice singing your praises whilst those hips snapped, bucking against the once latex coated plush of your thighs. The sound of the ripple collided with your high pitched wails and his own loud grunts. Onyakopon was a man unhinged at this point and he hadn’t even broken stride yet. Naturally, it was the same reaction you garnered when the two of you had sex. It never took more than three minutes for him to swell inside of you; pushing through those constricted, warm walls and trying his damndest not to climax early.

“You like when daddy get in them fuckin’ guts?..be squeezing my shit like you don’t want me to pull out.” Chuckling as he leaned down to observe your expressions. He’d watch you writhe but also beam with excitement as his movements became a bit more fast paced. Not to mention how loudly you were moaning. Attempting to paw at him with no avail. He’d tease your most erogenous areas; lightly rubbing your clit, pinching your nipples and even tugging at that leash and collar dangling around your throat. He’d notice you’d begin to laugh and beg for more..even using language you never had prior! Which was a turn on in and of itself.

“Yes daddy, keep fucking me..make me squirt on that big dick. You got me so close!..”

“Oooh..I love when you talk back to me, mama..lemme know what you want..”

revealing as those thrusts reached yet another speed. This time, fast enough to make your breasts jiggle and the bed to jolt around underneath your bodies. Your bound legs would tremble and those once shallow breaths became deeper. You were in the midst of pure, unbridled ecstasy. “Yeeees! Right there, you so deep in this fucking pussy. I’m ‘bout to come!”

but your boyfriend had other plans in store for his precious little plaything. With this newfound element to you guys’ hobby, came an adventurous side neither of you ever thought possible. Your relationship had blossomed into one full of excitement and joy, however, curiosity was among your attributes as well. Reaching over, Ony would retrieve a purple microphone shaped device that had been sitting next to you…along with a light pink dildo and a bottle of lube. And your shiny plastic-like ensemble and signature cat eared mask were not the only accessories you were sporting. Because just below that overly stimulated hole that had been dripping with cream, was another; stuffed with a bejeweled, glittery, flower shaped anal plug. It had been serving as another tool for stimulation and perhaps, preparation for later on. But for now, watching you writhe around from an intense orgasm, courtesy of that vibrator was his top priority. With a deviant smirk plastered across that handsome face, he’d harness the toy in one wand and tug your leash with another.

“Not yet, baby..I need to hear you beg for this shit. Lemme know who this pussy belongs to. Who makin’ you feel this good...” rhetorically stating as he pressed into the center of your belly. Pressing that whirring device against your clit to add even more stimulation. Meanwhile, those thrusts would only become much more brutal…erratically paced, sharper and certainly faster. As a result, all you could produce was incoherent babble and loud whimpers. That orgasm would come barreling out at any second and you were being forced to hold it!..and he was quite unrelenting when he wanted to be.

“Unt uh..I need words. I can’t do shit with that..tell me who the fuck this pretty lil’ pussy belongs to. Right now..” it seemed that he was far past coddling and your body would reach its capacity at any minute. So as that fat cock and swollen tip penetrated those soft folds, stretching that entrance with each deep stroke, you’d muster up enough strength to provide him with a sufficient answer. “F-fuck..it’s yours..it’s your pussy, daddy..”

to which he’d respond with a satisfied smirk, leaning down to shove his tongue between your lips; aggressively kissing you before feeding you two light taps to the cheek.

“That’s my good girl..now come, baby. Squirt on that fucking dick…wet my shit up.” With that encouragement and his shaft slowly retracting from your spasming cunt, Ony would be in for quite a surprise as those juices began spraying all over his sheathed abdomen. He watched in amazement behind that mask as you curated such a beautiful mess. It was one he’d never tire of, regardless of how many times he fucked you. Your eyes would trail to the back of your skull once more whilst that bladder emptied all over your man’s costume. Naturally, he didn’t mind one bit and the satisfaction that he’d be able to rewatch the footage over again at his discretion was even better!

“You such a nasty little slut, baby. I fucking love that shit..” cooing to you as he teased that shaft against your quivering slit. Those plump lips encompassed the center of it whilst the tip resided against your swollen bud. He figured you’d had enough time to recover so that he could finish out his climax...

“I ain’t done..you said it’s mine so imma fill it up. I’m ‘bout to come all in this pussy..” one thing that you loved about Ony was how vocal he was and not shy in letting you know his desires. When he craved your body, he wasn’t shy about his desires. He’d bare himself to you in his entirety. Whether it made him look vulnerable or weak. Alas though, he’d continue pumping every inch of that girthy length into you; buried to the hilt with no plans to come up until his seed was nestled deep into your womb.

“You gone let me get you pregnant, baby?…lemme breed this pussy?..” which may as well have been rhetorical in his eyes. He was determined to see you stuffed full of those thick ropes of cum regardless! “Yes, nut in me, baby! Come in this pussy..” Burrowing over you, he would thrash his hips sporadically..beads of sweat trickling from maneuvering in this costume. He was only seconds away from exploding when he’d grasp the center of your spreader bar and slow his pace to agonizing halt.

“I’m coming!—“

suddenly, you’d feel those warm spurts of silky cum splattering throughout your womb. It was a sensation you’d never tire of and loved when he filled you up. “Oh my gosh!..yes..” tossing your head back as he released loud grunts, emptying every remnant of his sack into you. Those thick ropes spilled out when he finally withdrew his pulsating cock from between your folds. “You feel so fucking good…c’mere, lemme kiss you.” Sharing that moment of tenderness as you came down from your highs. He’d lovingly stroke your face upon letting his tongue swirl around your mouth. ”I love you, baby.” “I love you too, Ony.”

He wanted to ensure that you were okay and that he hadn’t been too rough. “Aye, lemme get these cuffs off of you for a minute so you can stretch. I don’t want you to catch a cramp.”

you couldn’t help but to giggle at his cautious and protective nature, despite trying to put you through the mattress moments ago!

“Of course, as long as you put it back on…I kinda like it.” Beaming as you uttered the statement. To which he could do nothing more than laugh at. It was blatantly obvious that he had awoken a monster..

“You freaky as hell, you know that?” “Mmm…so I’ve been told..”

either way, you were his little plaything to enjoy and have fun with..and best believe, he was going to milk every second’s worth of this salacious side of you. Until either of you could function! Just as he finished unhooking your restraints, he’d toss them aside and catch a glimpse of that puckering plug and dildo as well. Which ignited a spark within his brain.

“Don’t worry, I ain’t done..I need to feel all them pretty holes, baby. Let’s see how you do with two dicks inside of you..”

[stellamarielu]

Leave it on

declan o'hara x female reader

summary: when declan finds you wearing his sweater he can’t hide how much he loves seeing you belong to him in such a domestic way. it's a sight that has him on his knees for you.

content: nsfw, 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), penetration, dirty talk, possessiveness??, riding that thing like a mechanical bull

author's note: so sorry but I've been thinking of declan and that slutty little turtleneck sweater since episode 5 of rivals

—

The night sky was hiding evidence from the first snowfall of the year and your little apartment heater couldn’t quite catch up with the dropping temperature outside.

Due to your already cold disposition being exaggerated by the snowy night, you found yourself cozied up on the couch reading a book underneath a slew of blankets. 

Your current comfy state, however, was mostly due to the sweater adorning your body.

Declan’s sweater to be exact.

He had left it with you a few weeks ago after a quick hookup that ended with him hurrying out the door in his t-shirt and jeans, completely disregarding the freezing temperature and the sweater he had worn overtop his t-shirt for warmth. 

You don’t know why it was still here, seeing as though you could have easily returned it to him one of the last times you met. 

While you both agreed on keeping your relationship a secret due to the town’s constant need for gossip and drama, you and Declan still managed to spend quite a bit of time together.

Whether it was late nights at your apartment or afternoon’s at the priory while Taggie was in town, you were both constantly showing up at each other’s front doors overwhelmed with need. 

Tonight however, Declan had told you he was going for drinks with Freddie and Rupert and would be out late.

With his promise to visit you tomorrow, you allowed yourself to have a cozy night in, and when you saw his sweater still sitting in the chair in the corner of your room you couldn’t help but slip it on.

The smell of sandalwood and menthol cigarettes were embedded in the wool. It made reading nearly impossible when every inhale filled your head with him. 

Just as you were putting down your book and heading to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea, there was a quiet tapping on your door.

Your face heated at the sound, because you had grown to associate that knock with the handsome Irishman that often stood behind it. You were classically conditioned to grow aroused by the sound.

Not even attempting to hide your excitement you ran to the door and began fidgeting with the locks.

“Hi there.” You popped the door open to see your favorite older man leaning against the door frame wearing one too many layers for your taste. 

“Here I was thinking guys night would keep you from me”

You felt giddy seeing him here. While part of you was surprised, there was another part remembering the undeniable passion shared between you two, so strong you could rarely stay apart for long. 

“I don’t think there’s a thing in this world that could keep me from you.” With his words he took a step forward wrapping an arm around your waist.

 As soon as his hand felt the rough wool material underneath it, his eyes were scanning your body, taking in the sight in front of him.

You were wearing his sweater.

The way it was haphazardly paired with a pair of pajama shorts almost too short to be seen underneath it had him taking a deep breath.

He had put so much effort into keeping his relationship a secret. It was something you both wanted, something that would make things easier for your respective careers and personal lives. And while he was happy to share these undisclosed moments, he would be lying if he said he didn’t want to walk you around town hand in hand.

He imagined what it would be like to sit across from you at dinner or to introduce you as his girlfriend. Such trivial things but he often found himself longing for them.

So, to see you wearing his clothing drove him a bit insane.

It was like he was silently claiming you. The sweater on your body telling the world that you belonged to him without anyone having to say a word. He liked the way it made him feel like you were proud to be his. 

“Found yourself getting’ a little cold huh?” He was now toying with the sweater at your wrist, rolled up because it was much too long for your arms. 

“I must say I like this abundantly better on you.” He trailed a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know Declan, I think you look very handsome in this sweater. Some might even say irresistible.” You were smiling up at him, bringing your arms around his neck desperate to close the gap between you and feel his body pressed against yours. 

“Mmm is that right? You think I’m irresistible?” His lips were so close to yours, you could nearly taste the whiskey on his breath.

“I said some people don’t get too cocky now Mr. O’Hara.”

You enjoyed toying with Declan. A man so strong willed and rough around the edges, but you held him like putty in your hands. 

His hand that was once at your ear was now ever so slight gripping your neck brining you into him so he could whisper in your ear.

“What a shame. If you would’ve told me how good you thought I looked in this sweater, I just might’ve insisted on gettin’ a taste of you while you wore it.” 

His seductive words humming in your ears sent a rush throughout your body.

The sudden need to feel Declan’s tongue on you was far more important than teasing him. 

“Oh Declan, you are so unbelievably sexy. In this sweater-“ You moved your hand down to the wool material of your top as you spoke.

“and in that coat-“ You motioned to the clothing on his back.

“And your tight t-shirts you’re always wearing around town.”

You kept complimenting him, and you could tell he was growing entertained. Smiling wildly at you his head cocked in amusement.

“So so so irresistible.” You finished speaking and gave him a coy little smile hoping that he would stay true to his word.

“There we go darlin’. Not so hard yeah?”

And just like that, his body was flush against you pushing you fully inside your apartment.

His lips found yours and his hand reached behind him to push the door shut.

As soon as you heard the slam of your front door Declan had both of his hands on your cheeks, holding your face in his palms. The kiss shared between the two of you was desperate and hungry. The desire you felt for one another was like an electric current constantly running. 

His hands left your face for a moment to remove his coat. Tossing the jacket to the floor.

You reach for the hem of his long sleeve shirt signaling that it needed to come off, and he huffs out something of a laugh that’s muffled by your kiss. Breaking your contact and pulling his shirt over his head you were met with the sight of his broad chest, bare and heaving. Before jumping back into the kiss, you begin to take your own top off to match his level of undress. 

“Don’t.” before you can even lift the sweater from your waist his hands were gripping your wrists. 

“I want you to leave it on.”

Your eyebrow quirks but you can’t deny the throb you feel between your legs upon his request. You just nod your head and go to pull his lips back on yours. 

The kiss was deeper now as he maneuvered your bodies further into your living room. Before you knew it, the back of your legs were hitting the couch causing you to stumble backward, falling onto a pile blankets and throw pillows. Leaning back on the couch you watched Declan slowly lower himself to his knees before you, sliding off your pajama bottoms and underwear while keeping his eyes fixed on yours. 

He leaned in, placing gentle kisses on the inside of your thigh, one by one making his way up to your center while keeping eye contact with you as he went.

You let out a breathy moan, it was the closest thing you could get out to say please stop teasing and get on with it. Hearing the impatient noise coming from you made Declan smirk. You watched the smug little smile take over his face and the sight of him like this between your legs made you even more wet than before. 

He finally broke the agonizing eye contact to look at you spread out before him still wearing in his clothing.

What a sight.

Your gorgeous body nearly naked and desperate for him, clad in only a sweater. The only thing you had on was his— like a piece of him resting on your body. 

Without warning he brought his hand to your center, the tips of his pointer and middle finger just barely gliding against your sopping core. 

“You’re soaked darlin” His fingers were practically dancing at your entrance; it was his turn to tease now and he was enjoying himself. 

“Declan please.” Your voice was a silent plea.

“Say it again.” His tone was truly sadistic as he let the pads of his fingertips barely dip inside of you.

“Christ I love hearin’ you beg for me.”

“Pretty please Declan” You do your best to give your words a playful quality, but the way they fell from your mouth sounded more like a desperate whine. 

“Anythin’ for my girl.” He immediately pushes his fingers into you knuckles deep as he places one last kiss to your thigh, dangerously close to your center. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel him press a gentle kiss right on your clit, completely contrasting the assertive movement of his fingers sliding in and out of you.

His kiss on your core then turned into small steady kitten licks, and you had to keep yourself from shamelessly grinding your hips against his face.

His touch had you in a trance, but you were starving for more. More more more, you were convinced you could never have enough of Declan. You reached your hands down to tug at the curls on his head knowing that it drove him mad when you pulled his hair. 

Just as you suspected the pull on his hair had him groaning into you. It took him no time to find your sweet spot, curling his fingers against your soft walls eliciting a primal moan to build on your chest. 

Declan knew your body like the back of his hand; how to kiss your jaw to make you whimper, where to run his hands on your body to have you melting into his touch, the way to hit that spot inside of you that almost makes you scream out for him.

You were his to touch; his to study, his to play with.

Knowing he had you a writhing moaning mess for his touch, and only his, made him smug.

Realizing he had you like that wearing nothing but his sweater, added a level of pride and possessiveness that had his dick swelling in his jeans. 

With his arousal progressing Declan decided to be a little more assertive with your bundle of nerves now alternating between sucking and flicking his tongue sending you into a state of euphoria.

You could feel your body reacting to the touch of tongue and the fullness of his fingers, your chest growing hot and your core pulling tight.

Fuck- he knew just how to keep his pace, having you intoxicated by his touch.

You could feel yourself unraveling with every second that passed. His movements working together to make your core clench, and your eyes squeeze shut. Practically panting, you could feel the rush of your orgasm ripple through your body allowing your grip on Declan’s hair to tighten. The hum that came to his lips caused you to cry out as you came. 

“Could eat you like that everyday for the rest of my life.” His voice was barely above a whisper. Although the words were dirty, his tone was light and sincere.

“I might just let you.” While you weren’t joking in the slightest, you grinned at the man between your legs.

You abruptly sat up on your elbows, pulling Declan from his spot at your core and urging him to sot back against the couch cushions.

“Need these off.” You leaned into him, fumbling with his jeans. You were still so hungry for him. You needed him inside of you, it was almost instinctual. 

The same desire coursing through your veins was clouding Declan’s mind as he forcefully pushed his jeans off his body.

Before they could even hit his ankles you were straddling his hips, ready to feel the familiar stretch of him. You could sense his tip just at your center so close you could feel it throbbing.

Just before you pushed down on him allowing you both sweet relief, you paused. 

“You’re so hard baby.” You pout down to Declan, the never-ending teasing match between the two of you continuing. 

You move your lips to his neck but keep your hips positioned just above his tempting erection. 

“Can’t believe I got you this worked up just by wearing your sweater.” You giggle softly, still lightly sucking and nipping on his neck. 

If you knew two things about Declan; he hated being teased, and he always needed to be in control. He could dish it but he couldn’t take it.

So, given the way you were currently straddling him and the words coming out of your mouth, you knew he wouldn’t let you keep up this charade for long. But he would always let you have a little fun- even just for a minute. 

And as those last words left your mouth, you realized your minute of fun was over.

Your harmless amusement took a turn into something far more pleasurable. Declan gripped your hips hard pulling you down onto him.

As you sunk down, a whine of gratification slipped past your lips. The stretch of him so satisfying you didn’t think you would ever get used to it. 

“This fucking sweater.” He grabbed the material pooling above your waist.

“My sweater.” His hands found your hips again, guiding you down onto him at a relentless pace.

“You’re mine huh sweetheart? My girl.” It must be a rhetorical question because you don’t think you’re capable of forming words as you moved against him.

“Yes. God- yes.” You honestly couldn’t tell if you were answering his question, or if the response leaving your lips was due to the way Declan was bucking into you each time you came down on him.

You were a whimpering mess, and he had only been in you for maybe sixty seconds. 

Sensing your state of overwhelm, Declan couldn’t help but push you closer to the edge.

He took his hands off your hips giving you a moment to set the pace. Running his fingers lightly underneath your— his sweater.

The speed of your movements were much slower than Declan’s, you wanted to savor how he felt against your sensitive walls.

Meanwhile, his fingertips were ghosting your abdomen at the same tempo, ever so slowly moving his touch higher and higher until he was tracing lazy patterns into the skin of your breasts.

You felt his fingertips find your nipples, lightly pinching and playing with them, sending your body trembling in his touch. Your eyes squeezed shut and your head was thrown back in pleasure. 

“Declan” His name fell from your lips in a moan.

“Declan fuck me please.” Of course, you knew he was already fucking you, but you wanted him to stop being so nice about it.

You wanted him to stop letting you tease him; to stop letting you go so slow. You wanted him to have his way with you. After all you were his. 

And there it was.

The switch instantly flipped and Declan ran his hands back down to your hips lifting them so his length was resting just at your entrance. His hold on you was deliciously tight, the feeling of his fingers digging into your flesh was enough to make you dizzy. 

“Anythin’ for my girl.” He repeated the phrase from earlier, his voice a mix between a groan and a whisper with a smile behind his words. 

He meant it, because his hips were snapping up to meet yours with a sound so loud and filthy you thought your neighbors might be able to hear it.

But you couldn’t even begin to care because Declan was thrusting up into you at a fixed pace. Each time he made sure to push deep, hitting the exact spot that he knew would have you coming undone in moments.

Your body felt frozen in place as Declan held onto your hips, using you for his own pleasure. You allowed yourself to meet his gaze, knowing your fucked-out expression would give away how close you were to unraveling on him. 

“You’re close baby, I can feel it” He was practically growling as he continued relentlessly pressing himself into you. 

His length was filling you completely and with each thrust the pressure building inside of you threatened to finally snap. 

“C’mon my girl give me another, let go.” Declan’s words always had a way of finishing you off. 

Plus he was looking into your eyes with such deprivation, that you can’t deny him what he wanted.

You felt the tension finally overflow and the surge of your second orgasm of the night came crashing down on you. 

As you were moaning his name, Declan finished simultaneously.

His eyes squeezing shut and profanities spilling from his lips in an Irish accent so heavy you could hardly understand him. You knew he was holding off his own release for you. Such a gentleman. 

“I think you ought to keep this.”

After a few moments of restoring your bodies to a somewhat calm state, you were still sat on him, both of your chests heaving as he gripped the material of the sweater once again. 

“Maybe just weekend custody?”

He chuckled at your joke, but you were dead serious. You were still convinced the top looked better on him, plus you desperately needed it to keep smelling like his cologne.

“Deal.” He was still laughing as he brought your face down to his, planting a kiss on your forehead. 

my masterlist

[charliemwrites]

Part 12 SpecGru reader!!

No content warnings for this chapter.

You mull over your captain’s words in the hours before dinner. Sitting behind Nova in her temporary room, Doctor Who’s opening theme warbling from your laptop’s speakers. You gently work oil into her scalp, following the precise alleys formed by her braids.

It’s a soothing ritual, not just for her, but for you. An act of care for a woman who’s been so kind and patient with you. Who always stood her ground on your worst days, and never allowed herself to be goaded into a useless argument. She’s warm beneath your fingers, soft against your chest, the scent of coconut and cinnamon sweet in your nose.

Slowly, you begin to card through memories you put great care into neglecting.

The day you left the hospital, feeling more pathetic than you ever had in your life. A packet of care instructions folded over in one hand. You remember the way Gaz hadn’t quite looked you in the eye, mouth tight and regretful at the corners. Almost guilty. Even when he handed over a bag of fresh clothes, saying he was glad to see you on your feet.

Did you know then? Was there some twinge of foreshadowing in your gut? Did you hear a foreboding whisper in your mind, of how the following twenty-four hours would devolve?

Maybe you did or maybe hindsight is a liar.

What really stands out, even after all this time, is how betrayed you felt (still feel) when you reflect on that interaction with Gaz. That the best he offered was a weak warning that Ghost and Price were pissed off at you. The hurt that he didn’t even ask how you felt before disappearing for the rest of that awful day. You never saw him after your initial discharge, he might as well have borrowed his lieutenant’s namesake.

And then there was Johnny.

Soap, who made himself perfectly visible, if only to express how pissed off he was. He never bothered to ask how you were doing either – didn’t even seem relieved to see you conscious and in one piece. He was tight-jawed and tense; the few times he deigned to speak to you was clipped and terse.

When you finally left, you remember how your chest ached, knowing (intending) you’d never see his thousand-watt smile again. A fair few of your tears on that flight had been in self-deprecation for expecting anything but his total, unwavering loyalty to Simon. It stung that for all his crowing about being a team, looking out for each other, no one left behind – he couldn’t spare you a crumb of forgiveness for a mistake in the field.

Price and Ghost had almost made sense, really. But Gaz and Soap had been a peculiar sort of pain. Your fellow sergeants, who had made you feel welcome and comfortable in the beginning – who had been the bridge and buffer between you and your intimidating superiors. And maybe it wasn’t their fault that you never quite felt like you had a seat at their table, but they’d tried.

Still… at least you can look at them. You can’t imagine opening your mouth to face Price or Ghost and anything but acid pouring out.

“What’s on your mind, babes?”

You blink, palms automatically cradling Nova’s head as she tilts it back to peer at you. On autopilot, you dip down to kiss her forehead, then the gentle curve of her lips.

“Hmm?”

“Don’t get me wrong, the massage is nice,” she teases, “but you’ve gone over my whole head at least twice now.”

“Oh,” you intone, swiping your thumb behind her ear. “Just thinkin’ is all.”

“I can tell,” she giggles, “there’s practically smoke comin’ outta your ears.”

You grimace a bit, arms lowering down to circle her shoulders in a hug. She curls her clever, slender fingers around your forearm, tracing soft patterns with her blunt nails.

“Sorry, love,” you mumble, flicking your eyes to the screen. Realize you’ve only got a vague idea of what’s going on. “I’m being a bad date.”

“You’re not,” she insists, squeezing your wrist. “This s’all been a lot, yeah? I just don’ want you being on your own in there.”

She taps two fingers against your temple. You used to spend all your time alone in your own head. Not because it was safe – it wasn’t – but it was familiar. It took her and the rest of the team concerted effort to pry anything of value from you.

Now, you muster up an appreciative smile as you nuzzle into her hand.

“I’ve just been trying to decide…”

She pauses the show and wriggles to get a better look at your face, hums for you to continue.

“If I should try talking to the 141,” you continue. “Cap said I should consider it. See if we can put all that old shit to rest.”

“Do you want to put it to rest?”

“I should.”

“But do you want to?”

The question brings you up a bit short. Being mad is easy. You’ve been mad at them for so long, one step short of loathing, that you’ve settled into the feeling. Dug your heels in. It’s an easy way to put a stopper on all the complicated hurt lying beneath.

“I want to talk to them the same way I want to go to the dentist,” you muse.

She picks up what you aren’t saying.

“You don’t want to, but you know it’s healthier if you do.”

You grunt, still too proud to admit it outright.

“The wound closed over, but it never healed properly,” she says. “Maybe you’ve got to reset it, yeah?”

You sigh. “Yeah. Just not sure where to start.”

She shrugs. “Wherever you want to. Do it on your own terms. Only way you’ll be able to stomach them.”

You chuckle. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“’Course I am,” she chirps. “I’m used to navigating bad weather.”

You nip at her fingers, prompting a bright peel of laughter as she tries to squirm away. As you wrestle her back into your lap, your nerves soften and settle.

Even if you excise this wound, you know you won’t be left bleeding alone. Not ever again.

You haven’t come to any concrete decision after dinner. Not that anyone asks. Nova isn’t one to push and your captain has already said his piece. You haven’t told Nikto or Keegan about your dilemma yet, and you’re not sure if you will.

Nikto’s take on the situation isn’t obvious – though if you had to guess, it would be similar to Nova’s. But Keegan? You already know what his answer would be.

Of anyone in SpecGru, he had to work the hardest to earn even an iota of warmth from you. He reminded you too much of Ghost – and how could he not? The perpetual mask, the sharp one-liners. Gruff and closed off, frighteningly capable, and a crack shot with a sniper rifle to boot.

It used to take everything in you to pull your punches during spars. The rare instances that you would agree to eat with your new team were never if Keegan was present. And more than once, you walked into the rec room, saw his looming figure, and turned right back around.

The only time you could stand to look at him was during missions, but your captain was always sure to receive a killer glare if he paired the two of you together.

Keegan was your partner on the mission that changed things.

It had been a week straight of shit sleep and bad memories, sick on loneliness and anger. When boots hit the ground, you stormed right in, eager to prove to yourself (but really, to them) that you were valuable. Didn’t wait for Keegan, but that had never stopped him from keeping pace with you before.

You didn’t clear your corners, got sloppy and hasty.

Took two stab wounds before Keegan shot the hostile in the temple. When he tried to call the others, you demanded that he finish the mission first. Would have rather bled out than be the reason another mission failed.

The pain and blood loss dragged you under as soon as you choked out the demand.

Then, Keegan’s face was the first thing you saw in the hospital room. Not the mask, him.

Even with dirt and black paint smudging his face, you could see the dark, worried circles beneath his eyes. Could read regret in his angular jaw, relief in the slant of his scarred mouth. For the first time, you looked in his eyes and saw more than an echo of your former lieutenant.

You saw your teammate. The partner you’d left to fend for himself because you’d been handicapped by your own pride. You saw Keegan.

“Did you finish the mission?” you rasped.

He frowned, but your captain stepped forward. “He did – once we were there to stop the bleeding.”

You never saw Ghost in the weave of his mask again.

And soon after, Keegan was the first person you opened up to about the 141.

It was that very same week. You’d been sick on shame and embarrassment, using your injuries to nurse your wounded ego. Skipping meals in exchange for raiding your snack drawers and moping in your cot.

Keegan hadn’t made himself scarce after your discharge. None of your team had, really – but he’d made a point of checking on you. And lacking your usual sharpness, he hadn’t been deterred by your comparatively mild standoffishness either.

Which was how you found yourself stubbornly tucked into the corner of your cot one night, while Keegan sewed the holes in your shirt. He kept shooting you amused looks – probably because you hadn’t taken your eyes off him once. Half wondering why he was there, half waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You gonna say something, or you just glare all night?” he drawled eventually.

You narrowed your eyes. “Do you plan to stay all night?”

He shrugged, but his eyes flicked to yours, the corner of his mouth ticking up. (No mask. He hadn’t worn one around you since the hospital. Not unless people outside your team were around.)

“If you’ll have me. Been meaning to get you caught up on the show we’ve been watching.”

You huffed, frustrated. “Why?”

He arched his brows at you, needle paused. “Because I like you, despite your best efforts.”

You stared, a little appalled, a little touched. Keegan just chuckled and went right back to mending your shirt. You drew your knees up tighter and hid your quivering mouth with your arms.

“Cap says your last team was shit to you,” he said into your sullen silence.

You scowled. He put a hand up as if in surrender.

“He hasn’t said more’n that, don’t worry,” he continued, “I’m just sayin’… I don’t take any of it personal. You’re a good teammate, I trust you with more than my six.”

Why, you wanted to demand, flabbergasted and all the guiltier because you knew you didn’t deserve it. Why did he trust you? Why was he so patient? Why was he there at all?

You sniffled, but he just kept talking.

“I want to return the favor, ya know? I’m not askin’ you to trust me after the mission, but you don’t gotta be on your own either.”

You were crying quietly by that point, face so hot that your tears felt cold, stomach aching from more than stab wounds. He finally looked up, saw how you were falling apart. But he didn’t shy away, didn’t close himself off. It wasn’t pity or sympathy that softened his eyes.

“The shit you and I carry, we’re not meant to do it alone, sweets.”

And what else could you do, but spill your sorry guts?

You remember the expression on his face when you got to the part about Ghost. Remember how tightly he held you on your cot, all the distance (emotional and physical) closed between you two. Remember waking up the next morning, Netflix still open on your laptop and flopped gracelessly over Keegan’s stomach like a childhood sleepover.

You couldn’t have iced him out again even if you wanted to, after that.

No, there’s no question what Keegan would tell you, if you asked about talking to the 141. He would say there’s no good reason to waste oxygen on a single one of them.

So, you don’t ask.

You climb into his lap in your temporary room that evening, peeling his mask up and off with slow hands. His eyes are already half-lidded, the corner of his mouth curved fondly. His hands spread across your thighs, warm and rough. The scar twisting across his left palm is sweetly familiar when he draws it along your skin.

“I’m going to try talking to the 141,” you admit.

His jaw twitches, eyes flickering. “Now why the hell would you do that?”

You sigh, curl your fingers into the brassy crop of hair he’s been growing out. He’s got a quick temper, and a habit of misplacing it when it’s been triggered by something out of his control. You don’t take it personally, you never have – it’s gratifying to see how much he cares.

“There’s no good reason to waste oxygen on a single one of ‘em,” he growls.

“There might be.”

He sits back, skeptical but waiting.

You continue, “I’ve got a lot of shit to say to them, and they seem eager to hear it.”

“Why give ‘em the satisfaction?” he asks.

“Maybe it’ll help with the nightmares.” That gives him pause. You draw your thumb soothingly across his temple – a bullet graze from saving your life. “We’ve got too much shit to carry, you and me. Unloading some of it is as good a reason as any.”

His hand drifts up your side, grazes the tattoo coiling down your arm. (The second you ever got – a big piece that took hours, Keegan never leaving your side. Nikto, Nova, and your captain periodically dropping in to provide snacks and water.)

He cups your jaw, guides your face down until your foreheads touch. You stay there, breathing him in. He smells like yours.

“What if they make it worse, huh?” His thumb caresses over your cheekbone the way it has a dozen times before, wiping away tears. “I’ll have to kill ‘em.”

You huff softly, amused. “Then kill ‘em. But I’m stronger than I was, Kee. There’s nothing they can weigh me down with that I can’t carry.”

“I know,” he whispers, tilting his chin to drop a sweet, aching kiss on your lips.

“Besides, I wouldn’t be carrying it alone anymore.”

His expression lightens, pride shining from his eyes. “Damn right.”

It’s nearly midnight when you wake from a light doze. Keegan is snoring softly, an arm and leg each hanging over the side of the bed. Your mouth is dry, but you realize it’s your stomach that woke you – pangs of hunger from picking at your dinner earlier. You need to eat.

Quiet and careful, you crawl out from beneath the sheets. Keegan is a heavy sleeper compared to the nearly supernatural senses of Nikto; he hardly stirs as you pad for the door. The hall lights are dim, but you only open it a crack to slip out.

The hall is quiet, no lights on beneath any of the other doors. You hope that means the rest of your team is sleeping peacefully. If you remember right, Nikto and Nova crawled in with your captain this evening. They’re all in good company if nightmares creep in; you pray Keegan doesn’t have any while you’re up.

Thankfully, the rec room is only two halls away. Light is spilling out as you turn the corner – there’s a sensor that shuts them off if no movement is detected for a while. Someone is either in there now or was recently. You half hope it’s the latter, but that doesn’t deter you from entering.

Your surprised to find Soap leaning against the kitchenette counter, a steaming mug in hand. His expression is flat, grim. Tired. You pause just inside the doorway.

“Might as well come in,” he says, voice low and rough. “I’ll clear out in a mo’.”

Even from where you’re standing, you can see that his cup is mostly full.

You exhale and shake your head. “Don’t have to.”

“How gracious,” he rasps, brows twitching like he wants to scowl. Like he can’t quite commit to being as bitter as he should be.

You’re too tired for your usual acid, as well. Just sigh and reach for the fridge door.

“Is that how you want this conversation to go?” you ask.

“Is this a conversation?” he replies.

You pluck out a yogurt cup. “It can be.”

He’s glaring into his coffee now, index finger tapping at the ceramic. Thinking. Or maybe just leashing all the things he wants to say but knows will drive you right back out.

“Why now?” he says finally.

You shrug. “Because I’m ready now.”

A tendon in his jaw twitches. “That’s not fair.”

A hot flicker of anger ignites in your chest. You tamp it down with a spoonful of yogurt, measuring out your words and tone.

“How do you reckon?” you inquire.

“You left,” he says. It’s been a while, but you can detect the hurt underlying the accusation. You suspect it’s something he’s wanted to say for a long time. “You left us behind.”

You click your teeth off your spoon, take a deep breath. It’s factually true. You are the one that left but—

“I wasn’t going to wait for you all to kick me out officially.”

He finally raises his eyes, a dark storm of emotion swirling within them.

“We wouldnae have.”

You tilt your head, cynicism in the flat line of your mouth. “Didn’t seem that way to me.”

“I ken you and Simon were—”

“Don’t.”

His mouth snaps shut, brows furrowed. You point at him with your spoon warningly but bite back the sharp remark on your tongue. Arguing isn’t the point here.

Settle instead to say, “Don’t speak for the others.”

There’s a beat of silence as he digests that, then finally nods. “Alright. Just you ‘n me then.”

You turn back to your yogurt, swipe up another spoonful as you reorganize your thoughts.

“I didn’t leave because of Ghost,” you begin. “Not entirely. I left because I was never part of the team. And what happened after that mission just… made it all very clear.”

Soap frowns, opens his mouth like he wants to deny it, but you hold up a finger to stop him. He takes a long sip of coffee and waits.

“You didn’t check on me at all. You weren’t there when I woke up. You never asked if I was okay,” you continue. “You were too busy being angry on Ghost’s behalf.”

“You almost got the both of you killed,” he argues.

“But you cared more about Ghost almost being hurt than the fact that I was,” you say. And dammit, you feel your sinuses burning, but your eyes stay blessedly dry. The anger disappears from his face all at once as realization sinks in. “I mattered to you less than Ghost.”

His hand tightens around his mug, knuckles blanching. “No. No, lass, tha’s no’… you were always… you survived.”

“I felt the worst I ever had in my life, but you didn’t care because I crossed the almighty Ghost,” you insist.

“I cared about you,” he denies.

“But not more than you did about Ghost.” You drag your gaze up to his. Even his eyes look a little wet now. “And that… that wasn’t enough for me.”

You suck in a shuddering breath, trying to loosen the tightness in your chest. Clear your throat once you feel the threatening prick of tears subside.

“I didn’t… it wasnae that,” he rasps. “I ken you think I’m full of shite, but ‘s true.”

You do think he’s full of shit. Maybe not on purpose, maybe he really does think he cared about you as much as Ghost, but you know better.

“I was just… so angry wi’ you,” he explains. “You could have died. Nearly got Simon killed, all because you thought you knew better.”

You exhale hard. “You’ve never made a bad call?” you challenge.

“It wasnae your call to make. You should have listened to Ghost. Instead, you—”

“I what?”

Your fingers tingle, numb. Can’t even feel the spoon, or the chill of the yogurt cup anymore.

“You disobeyed orders, it was so—”

“I didn’t.”

He stops. Stares. “What?”

You stare right back, “I didn’t disobey orders.”

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[mrsjjongstby]

ONLY YOURS TO CATCH - N.RK

~ HIS FAVOURITE DETECTIVE

PART 1: BAITED AND BOUND

Pairing: Obsessed serial killer!riki x Detective!fem!reader

Genre: Dark romance.

Synopsis: You, a detective who has always solved her cases with ease — until he appeared. A string of murders, all more twisted and challenging than the last, draws you deeper into a deadly game crafted just for you. As the lines blur between hunter and hunted, you realizes you're not just chasing a killer — you're the prize he’s been chasing all along. In a city full of noise, he made sure only you heard him.

Warnings: Killing, blood, knives, jealousy, obsession, stalking behaviour, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of pregnancy(not related with the female lead), toxic dynamics, dark themes, cursing, jail/ prisoner setting, mentions of poison (cyanide), etc (let me know if i missed any!)

Word Count: 2,962

| Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Some traps aren't meant to catch you. They're meant to keep you."

You are good at your job, you really are. But recently the job has been feeling way too easy. Something is just not adding up. You are a very well-known pro-found detective- the one the departments brags about infront of press and in articles.

You knew you deserved the praise, the applause but now, as you are sitting before the 35-year-old man while tapping your pen against the metal table, you don't know if you deserve the “The detective who solved it all” title anymore. 

“I killed Yuri” the man- Jae states bluntly.

He continued, “Had an affair with her and got her pregnant and I didn't want Hana to know, I did warn Yuri though, told her to get abortion but she was stubborn she said she didn't want to kill a life who hadn't even developed into a baby. But I didn't want that- I didn't want her or the child. I did what I thought was best-”

“And that is to kill her?” You can’t stop yourself, gripping the pen tightly as you yell. 

Jae shrugged. “I did what I had to do.”

You don't understand why this is happening, why the past five cases you’ve been handled have been too easy to solve.

But one thing is for sure, you don't like it one bit.

You liked the critical thinking, assessment of the evidence and putting pieces together that come with the job.

But lately, the criminals are being found after you’ve only uncovered a few pieces of evidence.

Not that you aren't happy that the criminals are getting caught early but it's that it almost feels too unreal, too silly and too convenient for a criminal to be found with the first 3 clues.

Too absurd for the criminals to come out and confess- always with an underlying feeling and a strange tension you can’t quite place.

You look at him and ask, “So why are you confessing to me now when you tried to hide her body, hide the murder which you committed?”

Jae chuckles almost nervously “I guess I still have a thing for Yuri.”

You get up from your chair disgusted “Rot in jail bastard.”

With that, you leave the room with your mind full of thoughts and theories. And none of them make sense.  

Now, back in your office, you sat pondering about the past five cases. A knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts.

Detective Jun-ha, your senior, stuck his head in.

“That’s the sixth case you’ve solved in the past two weeks Ms. The detective who solved it all, are you sure you didn't make a deal with the devil?” Jun-ha, though technically your senior, never acts like one.

He has seen you grow. He was there through your thick and thin and he’s one of the few people who truly support you and are genuinely happy for you.

You gave him a tired chuckle. “Maybe I’m the devil. Anyways, what brings you here my dear senior?”

"Nothing, just checking up on my favourite detective” he says as you roll your eyes playfully.

"I'm doing alright, thanks for checking up on me senior”

“Good to know. I'll take my leave then” he says with a grin as he exits, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Your smile fades as soon as the door shuts click.

This isn’t normal. It was like the justice system is on autopilot- making crime scenes easier and making criminals confess so that you have a perfect record. The nagging feeling in the back of your mind grows louder and louder. 

You know it. You feel it.  Someone is pulling strings...

A few days pass by. As you enter your office, the first thing you notice is a file placed neatly on your desk- an indicator that you got yourself a new case.

You walk over and flip it open.

There it is. 

Nishimura Riki.

The most wanted serial killer in the city. 

You aren't even surprised anymore. You’ve said the name often, seen it written across countless headlines, articles, reports, evidence sheets- it might as well be imprinted in your brain by now.

You get his cases often, it's like clockwork. Once in every three cases which took you no time to solve and are practically solved by themselves, his case awaits on your table.

A new one every time, only on your desk like the case only wants to be solved by you and no one else. 

His cases are different, they make you work, really work. 

They demand your attention, challenge your logic and wake up the parts of your brain which have been rusted due to the regular cases.   Riki’s trail is cold.

His victims are killed unusually, are scattered, his patterns are confusing and if you are being honest to yourself, the only common piece in his puzzles is, you.

All of his cases only ever come to you and with each murder of his, it's like the universe is leaving his case for you to actually solve.

And beneath the pressure and fear, you almost feel relief because for once, you aren't being handed the answer. You are chasing it  

As you are about to dig through the file, you get a call. The sound cuts through the silence like a blade.

“Ms.Y/n? We found a body. Linked to Nishimura. You are needed on-site. Now.”

You are already grabbing your coat, your mind preparing what to expect from him.

The alleyway is damp, cold and silent, completely as if its untouched by the chaos of the city around it. The streetlights flick, casting that glow on the body surrounded by rainwater.

You duck under the yellow tape. The officers nod at you, their faces pale. You nod back at them and look at her.

Female, early thirties. Clean, untouched except for the severe wound on her head. She has been posed. Elegantly, like someone took their time- as if it wasn't a murder but a performance.

What caught your eye was the folded piece of paper in her hand. You kneel and gently take the paper with gloved hands. You freeze as you open it.  

It was a page torn from a novel- not just any novel- your favourite novel. The one that you mentioned briefly in an interview a year or two ago. No one ever bought it up again.   The highlighted sentence, which was underlined by read ink reads,  

“The hunter always smiles when the prey finally notices the traps.”  

Your stomach twists. Because you know- this isn't just a message- it's an acknowledgement. 

Acknowledgement that he’s watching you- not just your work but you.

And you don't know how to feel about that.  

After inspecting the place, collecting evidence and talking to the nearby people you return to your office.

You walked into your office, but something was wrong. You locked your door- you were sure of it.

Yet there it is. On your chair. A plain black envelope. You quickly closed the door as you tear open the wax seal.  

Jae was wasting your time.   I handled it, you're welcome.  You shouldn't have to clean their messes.  You are meant for something greater- for me  Tune out the voice, love. I'm the only sound worth hearing.  Think smart, Detective This game is ours   - Your R 

You sit down slowly, the wait of the message heavy on your chest  And you feel it- he's taking control of everything around you.

Watching your every move.

Eliminating every distraction.  

For what?

For you.

You begin to notice the small things first.

The coffee on your desk, still hot and made the way you like it, even though no one was in the office when you arrived. 

Your favourite pen- the one with the broken cap with no ink left- replaced by a new one.

Same colour. Same brand.

A hair tie on your desk whenever you chose to leave your hair loose.

Always made your skin crawl and made you look around you to see if someone was watching you. 

Your instincts tell you to file a report, but something stops you.

You're a detective- why would you need another detective to help you?

That's what you told yourself.  

This felt like more than surveillance. It felt like intimacy 

Riki isn't just watching you work. He somehow made his way into your routine... Inside your life. 

And the worst part?

You don't tell anyone- Why?

Because you are scared you'll be mistaken for paranoid rather than being right. 

And that’s why you haven't been yourself lately.

You are always thinking. Something or the other runs through your mind 24/7. You haven't been able to sleep properly, fear clinging to you at night- the fear of being watched which caused you to not be energetic and more "alive-looking" in the morning.

And maybe that's the reason why you were seated across from Jun-ha after work hours in a café.  

"Ok. C'mon y/n, what's going on with you?" Jun-ha asks unable to comprehend why you have been like this for the past week or so.  

You chuckle awkwardly, "What do you mean, I'm doing just fine".

Jun-ha gives you a "Are you really fucking with me right now" look and says, "You know what I'm talking about, you look like a panda with your eye bags, you are always zoning out and you just look paranoid all the time." 

There it is.

Exactly what you feared- people thinking you’re paranoid, when in reality, you are right. Someone Riki is watching you. 

You don't want other people to perceive you as paranoid or delusional. So, you dismiss his worries and not-so-wrong accusations and say, "I'm just tired of dealing with his cases"

Jun-ha looks at you sympathetically, knowing who him means, "Ah I get it, his cases are so time consuming and hard- I wonder how you do it. Just be careful"  

You nod at that as you drink your latte, the bitter taste staying in your throat.

After a few days, an autopsy report lands on your desk.

Victim: Male, age 27 Time of death: Between 2am-4am Cause of death: Cardiac arrest (supposedly). 

You stare at the report, unease setting in your gut.

Something was wrong.

You visit the alleyway where the body had been found. The place covered with yellow "crime zone do not enter" tape and surrounded by multiple professionals.

You greet them briskly and make your way towards the scene. But you don't look at the body. No- you look around it. 

Your eyes catch a half-opened water bottle lying a few feet away holding a small amount of liquid.

With gloved hands, and after confirming with the forensic team, you carefully pick it up and bring it closer.

You unscrew the cap and take a cautious sniff.  

Minerals.

Sharp.

A chemical aftertaste that shouldn't be there.

Poison.

You sent it to the lab for testing- and the results came back quickly.

Confirmed.

Cyanide.

Cyanide- the silent killer. Efficient. Fast. And almost undetectable in standard reports, making it every seasoned criminal’s best friend and making it easier for them to get away with it.

But not on your watch.

Determined, you proceed to your next lead: Lee Haneul, the victim's girlfriend.

She's devasted when you met her- blood red eyes, trembling hands- but she’s cooperative.

"He left around midnight” she sniffles, “said he needed some air to clear his mind. He took his phone, headphones and his wallet"  

You nod, scribbling your notes, "Before this... did he mention anything strange? Anything bothering him? Weird behaviour?” 

She hesitates, then murmurs, "He... he said he'd been getting these creepy messages. Anonymous ones. He brushed them off — thought it was just one of his crazy stalker fans. He posted singing covers online... had a following."  

You thank her gently, offer your condolences, and leave, mind already racing.

Back at your office, you immediately request access to the victim’s phone — the password provided willingly by Haneul. 

You get his phone, and you extract the texts- there it is.

The last message received before his death: "Want to hear a song that ends with your last breath?"

You feel your skin crawl. 

You run the sender’s IP number.

It's a burner. Obviously.

But you trace its last activity, a ping from a local library. You head to the nearby library and review the footage along with your team.

There. A hooded figure. Tall. Black hoodie. Walked out at 1:47 AM.

You zoom in.

A janitor’s badge clipped to his chest. You track him down with the help of the authorities.

His name: Park Minjae.

Minjae is pale as a ghost under the harsh lights of the interrogation room  

"I-I didn't kill him!” he stammers, wide-eyed.

“I swear, I just saw someone dragging something in the alleyway, I got scared- so I hid" 

You lean forward, "Why didn't you call the cops?"  

He swallows thickly. "Because... because he saw me. He looked me dead in the eyes and then he smiled. Like he knew I'd keep quiet" 

You narrow your gaze.

“And this message.” You ask, showing him the threatening text.  

He widens his eyes and shakes his head frantically. "No! My phone broke a few days ago. I got it repaired but afterward, it started acting weird — random messages being sent, glitches everywhere. Turns out... it got hacked."   

He's telling the truth. You know it in your gut.

"Do you remember his face?" You ask quietly. 

"Uh y-yeah I do"  

You nod and show him a photo- Nishimura Riki mug shot. 

Recognition flashes instantly across Minjae's face.  "That's him! That’s the guy!" 

Which means...

Riki left a witness.

That's sloppy. Thats not like him- at all. 

Was it just a mistake? Or was it something else?

You began thinking- thinking of anything that could help your case move forward. 

And then it clicked. 

Cyanide.

There are only two registered mineral industries in the city who had legal authority over cyanide.

You immediately dispatch teams to both. 

One industry reports a suspicious transaction a week prior — security footage confirms it: a man matching Riki’s build, wearing a mask. 

Under pressure, the supplier, Lee Seo-Jun, folds quickly under interrogation. 

And when he does, he gives up an address. 

Registered under the name Kang Tae-jin- A name connected to exactly nothing.

A perfect ghost.

Until now. 

Your team gears up and storms the listed property — a sleek, modern house nestled in the city's quieter outskirts. 

Guns raised, shouting orders, you breach the door. 

And there he is. 

Nishimura Riki.

You visit the jail’s visiting room. It's quiet. Unsettling. 

He’s already there.

Handcuffed, relaxed, sitting like he owns the room.

His eyes lift the moment you walk in. 

And for the first time, you look him in the eye. 

Not through photographs. Not across crime scenes.

Here, In person. 

“Y/N,” he murmurs. “Finally.” voice soft—softer than you imagined, almost delicate. 

"You're earlier than I expected," he says, tone almost... proud. Proud of you- your skills.

His eyes glint.  “Though I didn’t want you to find me yet,” he says softly. 

He shakes his head, “You were beautiful out there,” he says even softer. 

The silence thickens, pressing up against the walls. 

You finally break it.  “Why? Why all of this? Why the murders, the notes, the chase?” 

He leans in, and for the first time, the smile drops. 

“Because you weren’t supposed to waste yourself on simple men and simpler crimes. They don’t deserve your mind. I do.”

You feel your stomach twist. “You killed them to get my attention?” 

“No. I killed them to clear your schedule.” 

“Riki—” 

“No,” he interrupts, voice rising just a little. “You were drifting. Getting tired. Losing yourself in noise. I fixed that.” His gaze pins you on the spot. 

“You’re here. With me. And don’t tell me it’s because of the law.” He tilts his head slightly, smile inching back. 

“Because we both know—you wanted this too.” 

You stare at him, heart hammering. Unsure if the chill running down your spine is fear… or something else.  

He leans back, eyes still on you.

"I told you this is our story, baby"

You don't know what makes you stand up- rage or disgust or the terrifying part of you that understands him a little too well. 

Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor.  Riki’s eyes follow your movement lazily, like a wolf watching its prey. 

You want to leave.  You should leave.  But you don’t. 

Instead, you lean closer.  Hands flat on the cold table separating you from him. 

"You're sick," you whisper. 

His smile grows, slow and poisonous.

"I'm devoted," he corrects, voice warm like he’s confessing love — not murder. 

You clench your fists, trying to steady your breathing. 

"You destroyed lives. Families. You ruined people just to get to me Riki"

Riki tilts his head, handcuffs clinking softly with the movement. 

"Ruined?" he echoes. 

"I think of it more like... rearranging the world around you.” 

You open your mouth — 

but he leans in so fast, so close, you freeze. 

Only inches between you and him now. 

And when he speaks again, his voice is barely a breath: 

"You feel it too, don't you?" 

His eyes are searching yours, merciless. 

"The world makes sense when you're with me." 

Your throat tightens. 

You can't move. 

Can't think. 

His next words are quieter than a whisper — a blade against your skin: 

"You were always mine to catch, Detective."

The guard bangs on the door, warning that visiting time is over. 

You step back, almost stumbling, heart hammering against your ribs.

Riki watches you go, a soft smile curling at his lips — 

as if the real game has only just begun. 

The door slams between you, but you swear you still feel his gaze. 

Watching.  Waiting.  Smiling...

PART TWO YET TO COME...

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

A/n: Hey guys! Writing is not my thing so sorry if it wasnt up to your expectations! And let me know if you guys want to be added in the taglist! Part two is in the making so stay tuned! Hope you guys like it! I literally was literally a second away from ripping my hair off due to exhaustion. Anyways! This is officially one of the longest fic ive ever wrote....... PLease show alot of love! ALSO THE DIVIDERS R FROM THE VERY TALENTED : @uzmacchiato @enchanthings @kodaswrld THANKS GUYS!!!!!!! ENJOY!

[lostinlovingrevery]

Angst with a very sad reader who is deaf, she wished she could hear Logan, or be able to talk to him with her voice she can’t use, so he comforts his girlfriend

Hands

Logan Howlett X Deaf! F! Reader

Talking to Logan is different for you

A/N: The way this actually made me cry while writing this. A lil self healing. I'm not completely deaf, but I've grown up being left out of conversations, unable to hear or understand people, sounds, music, etc. I've actively worried about what it would be like having a partner having to "put up" with my hearing loss. Also it could be any Logan! I just used DOFP here bc he's so pretty <3 I hope you enjoy nonny!

Warnings: A bit angsty, reader is deaf, and uses ASL to communicate, feelings of loneliness, sadness, being left out, Logan being so babygirl <3

It was the same story as always

You sat next to Logan as you were in another outing with your friends.

It was a new place that opened this past week, a mix of a bar and a cafe. Filled with vibrant colors and pop culture references of the decades. The menus were filled with pun-named drinks and greasy meals.

You quite adored the atmosphere, and you were enjoying the Friday night outing after an incredibly long day. It just that your group of friends and Logan, were knee deep in a conversation that seemed incredibly funny- judging by their laughing faces, and Logan's usual thin-lipped smile when he's amused; and you had no clue what was being said.

He glanced at you, and you gave him a big smile. Reassuring that you were okay. He quirked a brow, about to say something before someone called his attention, turning his head, your smile faded, as you watched him converse with your friends. He finally leaned back to you again, noticing your drink was low. He tapped your knee, grabbing the glass off the table and signing refill?

You smiled and nodded, and he got up, taking his own glass too, as he walked over to the counter. You adjusted where you were sitting, waving for a friends attention. He turns and smiles, and you ask him for the context of the story.

"Oh-" You lipread, while he also signs. "It's not a big deal." He smiles shaking his head. You paused, and then nodded, leaning back into the sofa that looked like it came straight from the set of The Brady Brunch.

Dejected, but not surprised.

Logan came back, handing you your drink, leaning forward to peck you on the cheek, before putting an arm around your shoulder. One of your friends start talking to Logan- and from what you could tell was updating him on the parts of the story he missed.

You looked at Logan instead of bothering trying to pick up what was being told.

You watched his smile lines increase as he grins, the corner of his eyes wrinkling as he begins to laugh. Handsome, as always. You leaned into him, feeling the exertion of his chest as he laughs with each breath. You watch his lips move, and wonder for not the first time at what he sounds like.

He's told you that his voice was always described as deep and low. A friend has jokingly told you that it was the sexiest sounding thing ever.

Which both irked, and disappointed you.

You could pick up just by lipreading that he was talking about you. A funny story that happened to the both of you at the grocery store the other day. A small smile on your face, he looked at you. It was like it suddenly occurred to him you didn't hear what was going on. He moved, turning his body towards you, and began talking and signing, telling the story to both you and your other friends.

Your smile grew as you watched him, but the sadness inside you filled deeper, as you watched him sign- remembering the symbols and the placements, while also talking to your friend. He pauses, hesitates, and you help him with certain signs- wishing you could just say that words yourself- that you knew how to say the words yourself.

He's quite good at sign language, but as with learning any new language, there's room for a little inaccuracy here and there.

It isn't always like this, feeling lonely when you're surrounded by people who love you. A lot of the time when you hang out one on one, your friends full focus is on you, the speaking between you and the other is non-stop as you gossip about anything and everything. In outings like this though, you assume that maybe it's just too much, trying to focus on talking to a group- and remembering the words to spell out with your hands and talk to you simulataneously.

You never say anything. Just sit in quiet silence. It's an acceptance you found long ago. Being left out of conversations, or others not wanting to put in the work of including you, conversing with you, even if they already have the ability to do so.

When Logan came around, and you found yourselves entangled in the usual story of romance, you couldn't be happier. He was always patient, worked diligently at learning to communicate with you. He learned how to properly get your attention, to speak directly to you. He never once made you feel left out. Mostly because he wasn't a talker himself- at least with his voice.

You knew better, but you couldn't help but feel like it's work to communicate. Not just for you, but for Logan. Having to always find a way to get each others attention. You watched him struggle to remember certain words, and he'd have to say it to you and you lipread in order to translate properly. Moments you usually thought were cute - but this time felt bittersweet.

On the car ride home, you both sat in silence. Logan's hand rested on your thigh, his thumb brushing over the fabric of your pants soothingly. You looked at the radio- noticing it was on. The number you recognized as a talk station Logan has told you he liked to listen to. You turned to look out the window, and noticed street musicians performing on the corner.

The car was stopped at an intersection, so you got Logan's attention, and pointed, before signing,

Music?

He looked at what you pointing at. He nodded, before rolling your window down, and he tilted his head, listening. Then signed back to you.

"Rock." He says, and you make a motion as if you were playing the drums, he smiled and nodded. You turned to look back at the musicians playing. Curious.

He let off the brake and the car began moving. You left the window down, letting air blow over your face. You wondered what the talk show hosts were saying.

When you both got home, he followed you to the bedroom, getting your attention with taps to your shoulder.

"Hey-" He signed. You looked at him. "I'm sorry, I didn't speak- directly to you sometimes. It was loud and a little chaotic in there but I didn't forget you I just..." He shook his head.

Your face fell and you looked away. Then looked back up at him. You responded,

It's okay. I know it can be work to try to communicate with me.

He blinked as he watched your hands and shook his head, he stepped closer.

"It's not work to talk to you." You watched him say. His brows creased. "Not for me."

You purse your lips, as you felt emotion swell up inside you. An ache in your chest, as you let out an exhale.

I just wish I could hear you. That I could speak to you. That we could talk, normally.

He shook his head, "This is normal, baby." He paused, his hands in the air, as he seemed to be searching for his next words. "This." He motions the sign language, "Does not bother me. I like that we can talk like this."

You looked away, but his hand came up to your chin, making you look back at him, his expression firm as he stares into your eyes. For a moment, you softened, the focus and care he held in his hazel eyes for you.

How does it not bother you? You have to put more effort into speak with me. Everyone does. Isn't it tiring?

"No." He shook his head. His hand came up to cup your cheek, a small sigh escaping him. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. A tear left your cheek, and he collected it with his thumb. Stepping back, and returning to signing. "You have given me a way to use my hands without violence. The way we can talk to each other, makes me feel closer to you, than just using my voice to talk to anyone."

Your lip quivered as you watched him play out his words.

"I never been good at talking." He grinned. "This though, I'm good at. I'm glad we can speak like this. It makes us...Connected. More than I ever been with anyone." he continued. "I feel like you and me...We can connect because we don't need words to understand each other. You look at me, and you just know me."

A few more tears escaped, rolling down your cheek as you nodded, you signed.

I wish I knew what you sound like.

His face softened, as he stepped closer again. "I...Know this isn't the same but..."

He reached for your hands, bringing your fingers to his lips, and your other hand to the base of his neck- where his collarbone met. You didn't need him to sign the next words for you to understand.

"I love you"

Tears streamed down you face, as you felt his lips move against your fingers. The muscles of his throat moved and vibrated against your other hand. He repeated it, over and over, allowing you to memorize the feeling of his words on your hands, the vibrations of his throat. It felt warm, and deep. You couldn't imagine sound, but closing your eyes made you picture his leather jacket, the curls of his chestnut hair, the weight of him on top of you. Maybe it wasn't his voice, but it was him you were feeling.

He only stopped saying those words when you reached up to kiss him, but you felt his lips brush over yours as he spoke it again. You moved, wrapping your arms around his neck and hugging him. He squeezed you in an embrace.

Maybe he was right, maybe this was nice. It still saddened a part of you that you couldn't hear his voice. Yet, another part of you appreciated how Logan still felt connected to you this way. He was right, in your entire relationship, he may have struggled with his hands,

He never struggled communicating with you, though.

[ddarker-dreams]

Thrones.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Gojo & Geto are weird and questionable in their conduct. Word count: 7k.

-Index-

June 22nd, 2007.

11:40 a.m.

-

Your first impression of Amanai Riko is that she’s tragically young.

You can appreciate the irony since you’re only two years her senior. Still, it feels like decades have come and gone since that time, even if your biological clock would argue otherwise. As you brush through her long, dark locks, you feel like an understudy unfairly given the lead role. The setting is plausible. It’s likely she’d visit Okinawa one day. Perhaps as a school trip or a vacation planned with friends that she eagerly scrimped and saved for. 

The itinerary would’ve been similar to what Suguru planned. She’d visit the beach, Churaumi Aquarium, Kokusai-dori, and try local cuisine like soki soba or shikuwasa-flavored sweets. The beginning and middle could align; the end will differ. She won’t be flying home with memories to cherish forever and a carry-on stuffed with souvenirs. 

She’ll be flying back home to disappear. 

You separate her hair into three parts and begin braiding. She’s humming Arashi’s Wish, content to loop the catchy chorus. Suguru and Kuroi are purchasing necessities, considering no one had time to pack for this impromptu trip, while Satoru peruses vendors for sugary treats. You’re both sitting on a wooden bench beneath an awning’s shade. Halfway through your process, her fingers no longer tap to the rhythm. 

“Y’know, those two might be weirdos, but you’re not so bad,” she decides. Then, in a small, quiet voice, “I’m glad that it was you three.” 

It’s a small miracle her back is turned so she can’t see your expression. 

“... Me too.” 

-

“Could you quit frowning already? It’s stressing me out.” 

You cross your arms over your chest. “I’m not frowning, I’m thinking.” 

Though you can’t see them, you can feel Satoru rolling his eyes. “Then quit it, cause—” 

“What are you thinking about?” Suguru interrupts, putting a premature end to Satoru’s tirade. You expect the white-haired sorcerer to continue his histrionics, but he falls silent, staring at you impatiently. Although Suguru’s gaze remains on Riko, who is trying on different sun hats and awaiting Kuroi’s verdict for each, you know where his attention truly lies. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to their shared scrutiny. 

Apart, it’s tolerable. You can redirect Satoru if you try hard enough and muster up a lie that Suguru pretends he believes. Together, they’re a different beast, complementing one another’s strengths and erasing their faults. You don’t stand a chance. Especially since it’s coming from a place of genuine concern, unconventional as that concern may manifest itself. 

“It’s just…” You hesitate, unsure how to best get your point across. “Is this the only way?” 

“The assimilation?” Suguru clarifies. 

Assimilation. That’s a nice, clean word to describe it. You feel death would fit better, despite Riko’s protests. She admitted — albeit with unexpected zeal — that she’ll ‘become’ Tengen. What does assimilation entail? At the very least, she’ll lose her physical form. Will any of her consciousness remain? Or will it be like a drop of rain falling into the vast sea, rendering it indistinguishable from the rest? 

“I said there’d be issues if she tagged along,” Satoru juts his thumb in your direction. “She's too sentimental.” 

You frown. “If you were so opposed to it, why am I here?” 

“Hell if I know.” 

Suguru clears his throat. “Tengen-sama’s orders show consideration, or we would’ve been told to bring Riko-chan back to Jujutsu High immediately. I assume [First]’s presence is an extension of his thoughtfulness.” 

“‘Thoughtfulness,’ huh?” Satoru scratches his neck. “Sounds like a pain.” 

You kick him in the shin, to which he dramatically yelps. 

“If it’s impossible, then it’s impossible.” Your words come out more clipped than you intended. Wanting to rectify your error, you add, “Let’s just focus on making this time meaningful for her.” 

Though they don’t respond, you’re sure they agree. 

-

“Are you gonna swim with us?” 

Riko’s question cuts through the air. In an instant, all eyes are on you. For some reason, there’s a shift in the mood, like her inquiry holds great significance. Satoru, who was sipping a can of soda, starts sputtering wildly, whereas Suguru tugs on a loose thread of his uniform. Kuroi suppresses a laugh. 

“What’s wrong with those two?” Riko grimaces, unimpressed with their antics. 

“I gave up on figuring that out,” you shrug. “Swimming, swimming… I guess I could? I don’t have a swimsuit, though.” 

Satoru abruptly stands, having seemingly recovered from his close brush with death. “Way ahead of you.” 

You’re ushered toward the closest boutique, where ceiling fans do their best to dispel the sweltering heat. It’s stuffed to the brim with tourists. Some try to calculate the prices in their currency, others give haggling a shot. Amidst the pandemonium, you shuffle through the collection, none of their displays catching your interest. Your search is frequently interrupted by your classmates, who have questionable taste. 

“That shows way too much skin!” 

(Satoru hangs his head as he walks away in defeat). 

“I’m not scuba diving, what’s with the full body getup?” 

(Suguru’s arguments in favor of his pick fall on deaf ears). 

Eventually, Kuroi approaches, holding a light pink two-piece you must’ve overlooked. A white bow sits in the middle, with diaphanous fabric flowing down from the hem. After you express approval, Riko jogs over, an obvious pep in her step. Grinning, she presents a pink and white polka dot headband similar in width to hers. 

“It’ll be a matching set!” 

Satoru is promptly hunted down to foot the bill. 

-

You consider your reflection. 

The headband Riko picked sits snug in your hair. The bathing suit accentuates your features, fitting just so. Your skin has a slight, glossy sheen, courtesy of the ample amount of sunscreen you applied. All that’s left to do is fix your countenance. You don’t want Riko to sense your apprehension, she deserves to focus on having fun. 

You take in a deep breath and shakily exhale. 

With some effort, you manage a convincing smile. 

Suguru stands waiting when you emerge from the changing room. Upon locking eyes, he’s quick to glance away, clearing his throat while he does so. It could be the lighting, but you swear the tips of his ears are red. Is it possible to get sunburnt that fast?

“You all good there?” 

“Yes,” his voice comes out tight.

The closer you get, the more you notice his flushed complexion. Scrunching your eyebrows together, you stand on your tiptoes, pressing the back of your hand against his forehead. The usually calm and collected Suguru gapes like you suckerpunched him. As you perform your medical examination, he stands still as a statue, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. 

“You’re really hot.” 

His pupils dilate. “I— what?” 

“Your skin,” you explain. “Have you been drinking enough water? Dehydration’s nothing to play around with.”

“Ah. Of course. That must be it,” he chuckles weakly. “Should we find a convenience store?” 

You nod, content with his acquiescence. Shoko would be proud of your diagnostic capabilities. 

The two of you walk side by side, navigating the crowds. The ideal weather must’ve drawn everyone out. In the distance, you hear the faint crashing of the sea and the call of seagulls. A steady breeze carries the scent of saltwater and sunscreen. Sunlight beams down, its rays oppressive. You’ve only been out of air conditioning for a few minutes and you already miss it. Sweat beads at your forehead and drips down your temple, stubbornly persistent no matter how many times you wipe it away. 

The advertisements for icy treats catch your attention. Suguru says your name, breaking you from your stupor. You didn’t realize you’d stopped in the middle of the walkway. He follows your line and sight, his lips quirking up. 

“See anything you want?” 

“Er… maybe…” you trail off. “But my purse is back at school. And my walking wallet’s splashing around in the ocean like a magikarp.” 

Suguru laughs, the sound soft and soothing. You could never get tired of hearing it. “I assume that’s Satoru?” 

“Yep. He’s rich, so I don’t care about mooching off him.” 

“You say that like you don’t turn him down if it totals up to more than 3,000 yen.” 

“W-Well, there are limits to these things,” you huff. “I can only mooch up to a point.” 

Suguru reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, flicking it open. “How about letting me treat you for once?” 

You wave your hands around. “Oh no, I couldn’t! You're my working class brethren!” 

“If you don’t tell me which you want, I’ll have to buy one of everything.” 

“Eh? Then they’ll all melt!” 

He makes his way over to the stand. “You better hurry up and tell me, then.” 

Suguru couldn’t look more pleased with himself as you point to the Suika Bar if he tried. Soon enough, you’re eagerly ripping into the colorful packaging. You pop the triangular treat into your mouth. The sweet, refreshing flavor coats your tongue in icy waves. Your eyelids flutter shut and you hum in utter bliss. 

“Thank you. You’re the best, Suguru.” 

“I’m just glad you’re acting more like yourself.” 

You avert your gaze. “Have I not been?” 

“In a way,” he opens the water bottle he bought and takes a few gulps. “It’s like you to worry about others. I’m just not used to you being so quiet about it.” 

With each step, you’re getting closer to the beach where everyone else awaits. You’ve felt hesitant about rejoining them. You wonder if this conversation is why Suguru offered to hang back while you got changed. His thoughtfulness is like the moon, ever present regardless of its visibility. You once made the mistake of comparing him to a big brother, an observation that, for whatever reason, made Satoru laugh so hard he started tearing up. Suguru’s strained smile dissuaded you from every mentioning that again.

“I guess… I’ve just accepted that this is the way things have to be.” 

Suguru’s eyes sear into your side profile. “Even if it’s an outcome you desperately want to avoid?” 

You can’t find the words to respond. 

“There’s always another way,” The tone he uses conveys near-frightening conviction. “If you asked Satoru or I to change the course of this world, we’d tip it off its axis.” 

The ground beneath your feet turns soft as you walk onto the vast expanse of sand. It glitters in the sunlight, blown along by the wind in mesmerizing swirls. The coarse texture brushes against your exposed skin. It burns hot through the soles of your flip flops, encouraging you to lift your feet, but you stand planted. For once, Suguru doesn’t wait for you. He keeps heading forward, leaving you to your tumultuous thoughts. 

It’s strangely lonely. 

Eventually, you reply, though you doubt he hears your small voice. 

“... I’d never wish a burden like that on you.”

-

You find Kuroi situated on a towel, whereas Satoru and Riko are playing around in the ocean. Satoru’s the first to notice you. He starts waving, then freezes like a paused recording. His sunglasses slip past his nose and almost fall off his face. Suguru must have mouthed something behind your back, because Satoru yells at him to ‘shut up.’ 

Riko wades through the water to meet you halfway, the apples of her cheeks prominent from how wide she’s smiling. “There you are!” 

Cautiously, you test the water’s temperature with your toes. 

“It’s good, trust me,” she takes your wrist and starts tugging you along. “C’mon already. I need your help taking this guy down.” 

You bend over and whisper, “What’s the plan, general?” 

“Just follow my lead,” she whispers back. Then, in a louder voice, “I’m glad you got that guy’s number. Do you think we’ll see him again? He’s probably staying nearby.” 

Satoru’s head whips in your direction. “Hah?” 

You decide to trust Riko’s vision and play along. 

“I don’t know, I’m worried I’ll say something stupid and scare him off.” 

“You can’t go through life thinking like that! Here, let’s go find him, he’s gotta be nearby—” 

“Who exactly are you referring to?” Satoru snaps. 

“Now’s our chance! Get him!” Riko exclaims, running her hands through the water and splashing it in his direction. You’re quick to join in on the frontal assault. Your joint barrage is relentless, seawater gliding through the air and dousing where he stands. Much to Riko’s chagrin, it hits his infinity. The water bounces off the invisible barrier and drips down uneventfully. 

She puffs out her cheeks. “Man, I was so confident that’d be a good distraction too…” 

You give her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “The effort was there, that’s all that counts.” 

Satoru stands with his hands akimbo, the skin between his eyes wrinkled from how hard he’s scowling.

“Is there or is there not a guy?” 

-

When you get out of the shower, you find Riko lounging on the hotel balcony by herself. 

Gingerly, you sneak over, uncertain if she’s fallen asleep. It’d been an eventful day. Rescuing Kuroi from kidnappers, Satoru's decision to delay the assimilation, and the activities around Okinawa. You’re worn out yourself. You plan on turning in for the night after checking in on her. 

The sound of chittering bugs and cars driving through the streets greets you upon sliding the door open. Riko turns to face you, the earlier signs of exhaustion on her countenance no longer present. No vestiges of satisfaction or contentment remain. The slight puffiness and its implications aren’t lost on you. You hold your breath, the sluggish cogs in your head spinning as you consider your next move. Riko is a headstrong girl, carrying herself with a sense of pride you believe she’s earned. You don’t want to take that away from her. 

Offering a hushed apology, you prepare to return inside and act like you hadn’t seen anything. 

“It’s fine,” she mumbles. “You can stay… if you want.” 

In that moment, you’re reminded of a story that left a lasting impression on you as a child. 

It’s the story of a father and his beloved son. The father was commanded by his God to take his son to a mountain, where he must build an altar and sacrifice him. The father did what was bid of him, setting out with his only son, carrying the tools necessary to complete his task. He binds his son, yet before he can commence the ritual, his God provides a ram to use instead, sparing his son’s life. 

Even then, you wondered what the trip to the mountain felt like for the father. Did he have any doubts? Was he not angry at his God for making such a request? Would he really have killed his son had the ram not been provided? Could he stand to look his son in the eyes, knowing what fate awaited him? 

Is it wrong to deny a God who asks you to sin? 

You pull a chair alongside Riko’s and sit. 

“I’m not having second thoughts or anything,” her words tumble out fast, like a criminal caught in the act. “It’s the change in climate messing with my senses, I think.”

You gaze up at the night sky. The tapestry of wonders glimmers against its dark backdrop, the stars boasting unrivaled majesty without light pollution to dull them. This celestial mural fails to pique Riko’s interest. Her eyes remain downcast, transfixed on her lap, where she has folded her hands together. She’s a shadow of that boisterous soul who slapped Satoru and insulted Suguru’s bangs. 

“Do you want to have second thoughts?” 

She scrunches up her nose. “What?”

“Like, does it feel wrong to doubt?” 

“This is what I was born for,” She sounds like she’s someplace far away. “If I don’t do it, then who will?” 

You stare at her like she’s already a ghost. Bile rises up your esophagus, spreading a bitter taste inside your mouth. You want to argue until your voice is hoarse, even if that makes you a hypocrite. Counterpoints slot into place like bullets in a revolver. Each newly loaded chamber is capable of potentially piercing the bulwark she’s built around herself through the crenelated stone. However, your finger hovers over the safety, hesitant to pursue such a brutal offense. 

Especially when you’d be shooting from behind an identical fortress. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to get all depressing on you. Maybe it’s selfish, but I’m grateful things turned out the way they did. It’s been fun — really fun. I got to spend more time with Kuroi, I even got to meet people like you. It would’ve been nice to get to know you better and experience more things, but… this day was always going to come.” 

Is that enough to make this right? 

Riko smiles weakly as your eyes widen. You didn’t mean to say that out loud. 

“Who knows? I never gave that part much thought,” she reaches up toward the heavens, grasping for something only known to her. “It could be sad, it could be wrong. Either way, it’s what I’ve been waiting for.” 

It’s your turn to look away, an act that causes her to fistbump your shoulder. 

“‘I can say cheesy stuff like ‘I’ll always be watching over you,’ ‘cause I will! When Tengen-sama and I become one, your school will be my new stomping grounds! Spiritually, or something. No one really knows the specifics.” 

Upon reinitiating eye contact, a new sentiment regarding Amanai Riko is sown. 

That night, and in the years that follow, it bloomed into one recurring thought. 

“I wish I could’ve gotten to know you too.” 

-

Kuroi stands beside you inconsolable. 

By now, you can no longer see Suguru and Riko’s retreating figures. They’ve entered the labyrinth that is the Tombs of the Star, the hallowed ground Tengen indwells. The further the elevator sunk, the more you felt like you were being ferried into the underworld. Four souls descended, three would return. In this limbo, every second is amplified tenfold, as is any slight change in atmosphere. Your senses have dialed past their normal parameters. 

You don’t think the past thirty minutes were real. It’s as if you’re witnessing the events yet not living them, your body propelled forward by an independent entity. 

Here, in this terrible impasse, you want more out of life than you’ve ever asked. To hear Satoru’s annoying self-confidence. A phone call with Akane where you admit she may have been right. A long nap on Shoko’s bed. Words to comfort Kuroi that aren’t lies. Another day at the beach with Riko, where you can share sweets and funny anecdotes from school. More than anything, you want to go home. 

You shake your head. 

Now isn’t the time for that, you chastise yourself. There has to be something I can do for Kuroi—

Something to your left snaps. 

You know this sound. You heard it in rapid succession once, that night you visited a daycare abandoned by the living and colonized by the dead. It’s an instrument you wielded to the tune of your potential demise, a discordant requiem. You glance toward the source, where Kuroi was. 

Was? 

On the ground lies a pile of shredded fabric, exposed bones, punctured skin, and a pool of blood slowly seeping outward. Clumps of brunette hair stick out like a child had played at being a barber. You don’t understand. There’s no one else around. You hadn’t felt a draft in the air, nor the telltale prickling of cursed energy along your skin. 

You’re no stranger to fear. Ever since discovering the existence of curses, the emotion has become intimately interwoven with your existence. In the past few years, death’s skeletal hand has hovered near your pulse, ready to extinguish your life’s flame. Every close call leaves an indelible mark on your psyche. To dwell on it would tear your sanity asunder. So you choose instead to accept the hand, following a macabre waltz to the tempo of your frenzied heart until the final beat. 

You believe the metronome’s pendulum is on its final swing. 

A hulking figure examines the jagged blade in his hand, dripping with fresh blood. His materialization leaves you speechless. For an instant, you stare at one another, your body frozen in horror. Isn’t this the man who stabbed Satoru? What is he doing here? How is he here? If he hasn’t lost yet, he should still be engaged with Satoru, whose presence you can’t sense anywhere nearby. 

He scratches the back of his neck, his head tilted as he stares you down. 

“Ended up here anyway, huh?” The man remarks. “... Unlucky.” 

You act without thinking. Your fingers rise to meet one another, the hand gesture necessary to initiate Cursed Technique: Null. The stranger lurches forward, swifter than your senses can comprehend. The pain that comes next isn’t a surprise, aside from how it manifests. Instead of stabbing you with his blade, he kicks your stomach. You’re sent flying, your back hitting the wall with such force that debris splinters in every direction. 

Wheezing, you cough up blood, its metallic taste heavy on your tongue. Your vision goes in and out of focus as he walks closer. Every inch of your body cries out, pain unlike anything you’ve ever experienced setting you on fire. The act of breathing is agonizing. Every time you try, you feel something sharp and jagged dig into you. Through the haze settling over your fading mind, you realize that must be your fractured rib cage. 

“... not gonna… might kill me…” 

The stranger’s sonorous voice fails to penetrate the high-pitched ringing in your ears. Your fingers twitch, but your arms remain limp by your side, refusing to rise as you repeatedly instruct. There’s no way for you to activate Null in this state. Refusing to give up, you summon Ophanim. Your disorientation makes maintaining more than one ring at a time impossible. 

It whirrs through the air and toward the stranger’s jugular. 

He raises his katana to deflect, but Ophanim slices through the blade. Now unarmed, you have the faintest flicker of hope. The golden ring is too close for him to dodge. Even if he tries, Ophanim’s speed is at its zenith when concentrated into a singular ring. It’s seconds away from making contact. Though you’re confident you have a concussion and are clinging to consciousness, a few moments are all you need.

Or so you thought. 

You wish it were a hallucination conjured up by your swelling brain. The monster of a man catches the ring with his bare hands like it’s nothing more than a frisbee. Ophanim — a technique strong enough to cut through solid steel — comes to a grinding halt. Your lapse in concentration causes the ring to disappear, leaving nothing but a small cut in his palm. Black blobs devour your vision, pushing you further into an inky abyss. 

Your head falls down as you lack the strength to hold it up. He walks over, likely intending to finish the job. 

I’m going to die, you think. I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die…!

The world around you grows further away.

…

I’m scared. 

Maybe I’ve always been scared. 

There are so many things in this world I can’t do anything about. 

I thought by coming here, I was doing the right thing. 

Even if I’m not as strong as they are, I could still do my part. I had to help. It’d be selfish not to. Wrong. Unforgivable.

Run away and live, or stay and die. 

Mom and dad are never going to know why their daughter died. 

It’s going to hurt them so much and it’s all my fault. 

They don’t get to be proud. They don’t get to understand. 

I wonder if I could’ve explained it to them. 

Would they have stopped me from coming here? 

What a joke. Of course they would have. That’s why I never tried, isn’t it?  

I’m sorry, Akane. 

Please don’t blame yourself. 

Knowing how stubborn and stupid I am…

… It always would’ve ended up this way. 

-

Shoko can’t help noticing how quiet it is without you around. 

She’s made a point of avoiding the dormitory, disliking how empty it feels. Most of her time has been spent in the infirmary, assisting with your recovery. It won’t be much longer until you’re discharged. A few days, by her estimate. Her reverse cursed technique has improved since Kaizu, where you had to be hospitalized to compensate for her inexperience. Recovery times post-treatment have decreased in light of her progress.

As an aspiring doctor, she should be satisfied with these results, but for some reason, she can’t muster much enthusiasm. 

Her box of cigarettes is light when she pulls it out. Upon opening it, she sighs. She forgot she’d run out. She tosses the empty box into a nearby trash can and begins the trek back to the infirmary. So long as either Gojo or Geto are around, they’ll get her some more, though convincing them to leave your side is a pain. She doesn’t understand how or why you put up with them.

At least they mean well, she thinks. Most of the time. 

Occasionally, she considers warning you, only to change her mind at the last second. It’s your nature to see the best in people at the cost of overlooking their most damning qualities. To an extent, she gets why Gojo and Geto are so possessive. When she’s receiving your kindness, she can’t help thinking how nice it’d be if she were the only one you looked at that way herself. 

Unlike them, she can’t justify acting on such selfish impulses. 

She hopes they won’t start demanding more than you can give, because knowing you, you’d offer everything. 

-

You happen upon your underclassman, Nanami Kento, struggling with his tie. 

Frustration grows prominent on his countenance. While he’s still composed, it’s like a dam nearing its limit, ready to burst forth. You walk over, taking the tedious fabric into your possession. As you work through the steps, you can feel how he assesses you. You’re certain there’s much he wants to say. You get it — you’re in a similar predicament yourself. Crushed by the weight of the world and forced to soldier on like you’re not one misstep away from being crushed. 

“Are you sure you should be up?” he asks, dispelling the heavy silence. 

“I’m alright,” you manage to quirk your lips up. “It feels good to move around.” 

It strikes you then that this could’ve been your funeral Nanami had to attend. 

Your blood turns to ice, as does your smile. 

Misato Kuroi. Amanai Riko. And now, Haibara Yu, who just two weeks prior, you played video games with late into the night. 

You notice your fingers shaking as you complete the last step, the tie now secured into place. Nanami’s frown deepens. He opens and closes his lips, unusually indecisive. You’re contemplating various excuses to run off when he speaks again, his eyebrows knit together, lips curling into a grimace. 

“... Does it ever get easier?” 

The words are spoken so quietly, they barely reach your ears. Nonetheless, you heard them, each syllable dredging up terrible sentiments from the depths of your soul. As his senior, you feel an obligation to offer guidance. It’s what you would’ve wanted if the roles were reversed. There are platitudes you could espouse. The kind you’d find inked into cards that express condolences, hollow and useless. 

Bitterness seizes you in place like paralytic venom. Your heart aches, heavy as an anchor in your chest. 

“It doesn’t,” you admit. “Not really.” 

His expression remains impassive. 

Before you can walk away, he steps forward, his haste taking you by surprise. 

“Don’t go dying anytime soon.” 

You blink, slowly processing his words. Promising you won’t would be a lie. Your recent brushes with mortality have proven that. So instead, you say the next best thing, the casual phrasing belying the wish’s gravity. 

“Back at you.” 

-

Nighttime has become your most consistent enemy. 

There’s no escaping it, try as you might. While much appreciated, summer’s domination is a small kindness that can’t erase twilight’s encroachment. Every day, darkness’ dreadful descent is inevitable. Your biological clock must obey its creed. In your most vulnerable state, it's there that, like vultures circling above a rotting corpse, your subconscious dives down to strike. 

Nothing is sacred. Your deepest fears — some fully realized, others still in development — cast you as the lead in their macabre plays. If you’re lucky, you’ll awaken in distress, crying out the names of the deceased and those that might one day join them. Otherwise, you’re forced through scene after scene, stumbling through eidetic sequences that rip at the seams of your wounded heart. 

It hasn’t been this bad since you were a kid. Back then, your parents would find you sleeping on their bedroom floor come morning, tear stains visible on your cheeks. In the present, you’ve settled into a new routine, though vestiges of the old remain. Shoko has become your safe haven. She leaves her door slightly ajar, allowing easy access should you seek her out. Swaddled beneath her covers, smelling faintly of cigarettes and vanilla, you’re granted temporary solace.

This strategy isn’t foolproof. Shoko has designs of her own and can’t always be on campus, like now, for instance. She’s busy elsewhere, attending a five-day-long medical conference in Osaka. Her absence has seen your energy levels greatly depleted. Lethargy has made your bones as heavy as lead and your spirit numb. 

Sometimes you wonder if the Tombs of the Star had been your mausoleum and you’ve yet to notice. 

That searing pain, bleak despair, wretched cries that went unheard and prayers unanswered… how do you resume normal life with such a blot staining your soul? 

“Is the movie that boring?” 

Satoru’s voice cleaves through the miasma enveloping your thoughts. Blinking sluggishly, you’re about to ask what he means, until you consider your posture. You’re both sitting on a couch, but unlike him, you’ve begun to slump over, your wearied muscles seeking respite. With some effort, you manage to sit up straight. By then, it’s too late. He pauses the film and stares at you, his expression hidden behind his sunglasses. 

You feel impossibly small beneath his unrelenting gaze. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to zone out.” 

He hums, the upward inflection hinting at where this is going. It’s a sensitive topic you’ve been trying to avoid. He played along for a bit, but you sense the pantomime is coming to an end. 

“You need to sleep,” his tone is unusually severe. “You can’t avoid it forever.” 

“I know that.” 

“Do you?” He leans forward, looming tall. “Looks like you’re just trying to punish yourself to me.” 

“That’s…!” You bristle, adrenaline jolting through your system like an electric shock. He quirks an eyebrow, clearly finding your outburst unimpressive. Your shoulders droop. Finally, you murmur, “... Not true.” 

“You really do suck at lying.” 

You shoot up, standing over him as he reclines back, uncrossing his legs. 

“What, should I just take a page out of your book and act like nothing happened? I hate to break it to you, Gojo, but not all of us are as indifferent as you are.” 

You regret it as soon as it leaves your mouth. You don’t get why you’ve chosen him to unleash your pent-up frustration on; you should be used to his lack of tact by now. Still, he should’ve known he was stirring up a hornet’s nest. It might not justify your vitriol, but what did he expect? Why can’t he reach out to you normally? 

“Do you actually mean that?” 

You bite your bottom lip. “... No.” 

“You’re not entirely wrong,” He’s smiling now, but it’s cold, like an arctic gale. “Sometimes, I wonder if I’m still human.” 

You shiver.

“What do you mean?” 

He waves your question off. “Nothing, nothing. Guess I’m a bit out of it myself. Still working out the kinks with always running Limitless, and all that.”

Satoru pats the spot beside him. Wordlessly, you obey, feeling defeated somehow. You fold your hands in your lap and fixate on them. You’d been so close. Had you been faster and more capable, you could’ve activated Null, the ultimate win condition. That anomaly made human — Fushiguro Toji — would’ve been shredded into ribbons. Or, at the very least, immobilized until reinforcements arrived. Then Riko’s life wouldn’t have been stolen from her in such a barbaric way. Suguru would’ve been spared those injuries, and Satoru from the weight of taking another’s life. 

There’s a dull throb in your head. According to Shoko, your hunch was correct; you had sustained a nasty concussion, among other life-threatening complications. She had treated the worst of it, but warned that headaches were going to be an ongoing issue.

However, physical pain is turning out to be the least of your concerns. 

“Hey, Satoru.” 

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Like I said, you weren’t far off the mark, anyway.” 

“That isn’t true,” you squeeze your hands together so tight it hurts. “I know how hard you tried. Because of you, Riko got to have so much fun. I’m sure she treasured each moment.”

For a moment, he’s silent, undoubtedly untangling his own chaotic web of thoughts and emotions. 

“... I hope so.” 

You’re about to look at him when an arm slips around your shoulder, drawing you close to his side. Warmth erupts over your face. He’s never cared much for respecting personal space, but this feels different. Meaningful in a way you can’t quite articulate. Instead of squirming away like you would’ve in the past, you sit still, curious about what he’ll do next.  

“Tired?” He asks. 

No longer seeing the point in feigning otherwise, you respond with a muted ‘mhm.’ 

“Then sleep.” 

Incredulity overcomes you.

“Right here?” 

At this, he scoffs. “Well, duh. Where else?” 

A beat passes, then another. Your face goes from feeling mildly warm to a scorching inferno. 

“But that’s—” 

“What?” He cuts you off, his voice sounding tight and rising in pitch. “You can sleep with Shoko, but not me?” 

So he picked up on that? It doesn’t surprise you, given how observant he is, but he’s acting peculiar, almost childish. There was an underlying bitterness to how he enunciated Shoko’s name. Your current acumen is dull from fatigue, or you would’ve picked up on it sooner. Satoru’s annoyed that you haven’t been confiding in him. No wonder he’s been so abrasive. It’s easy to be blinded by his strength and forget that at the end of the day, he’s still a teenager with a massive ego. 

You can’t stop yourself from smiling, which he must misinterpret as mockery. 

“Forget it. Go faint from exhaustion, see if I care.” 

He starts retracting his arm, huffing as he does so. You coil around him before he can fully pull away. Satoru must not have expected your boldness, for he grunts and goes stiff. Taking the strongest sorcerer by surprise is no small feat. Under any other circumstances, you’d flaunt your triumph, but right now, you’re content. His muscles gradually relax, allowing you to make yourself comfortable. 

You lay your head upon his shoulder and close your eyes. 

Yeah, you think, fondness teeming in your chest. You’re still human, Satoru. Very much so.

-

There’s something different about Suguru.

This thought has lain dormant in your subconscious for a while.

You were content to keep it buried, fearing what may happen once it’s exhumed. While you’re ashamed of your cowardice, this thin veneer of normalcy that gives your day-to-day life a sleek sheen is fragile. Any pressure could see it shattered beyond repair. These shards, once scattered, might never fit back together, hence your vigilance. 

Sitting silently on the subway ride home, you’re forced to consider the possibility that the cracks are already there. 

Despite being the only two in this car, Suguru remains standing, holding onto a grab rail. Your mouth feels dry as you mentally rehearse different ways to broach the elephant in the room. You aren’t used to being tongue-tied, especially around him. This inexperience leaves you at a loss. Should you just come out and say what’s on your mind? Or is it better to subtly approach the subject? While weighing your options, he turns around, finally giving you a chance to study his visage. 

He looks tired. 

“I messed up,” he says. “I should’ve let you take care of yourself and prioritized the civilians. You don’t have to sugarcoat it.” 

You chew on the inside of your cheek. “It worked out in the end, though.” 

“If that’s what you think, why do you look so conflicted?” 

It’s now or never. 

“I’m worried about you,” you confess. “And it’s frustrating ‘cause— well, I get it. I know there’s nothing I can say or do to fix everything. But I want to do something. Anything, so long as it helps.”

Suguru closes his eyes and smiles. “Anything, huh?” 

“Would you run away with me?” 

You focus on the click-clack of the tracks beneath you. The subway grinds to a steady stop, its brakes huffing as it does so. The automatic doors fly open as a prerecorded voice announces the stop through the fuzzy intercom. No one gets on and no one departs. A chime sounds, indicating that the doors will be closing shortly. Your body jerks to the side as the car rises, going into motion again. 

“What?” 

It’s the only word that your tongue can successfully form. 

“I realized something,” he quietly begins. He looks past you, out the windows, at something only he can see. “This world is far uglier than I ever wanted to admit.” 

You freeze up like he’s a gorgon when his eyes find yours. 

“Satoru could come too. I’m sure he would, if you were the one who asked.” 

Dizziness overtakes you. Your skin is clammy, despite your incessant shivering. Or are you shaking? You can’t tell. His figure eclipses the setting sun, a halo illuminating his silhouette. You’re unable to look away, even when it hurts. You’re worried that if you do, he’ll be gone when you reopen your eyes. It isn’t until foliage blocks the blinding rays that you’re given reprieve. Even then, a faint burning sensation remains. 

There’s a lot you could ask, but you settle for: “What would we be running away from?” 

“I don’t know,” he responds in truth.

A pause. 

“I take it my joke was in poor taste?” Suguru laughs weakly, rubbing his neck. “I thought I could lighten the mood; I suppose Satoru’s better suited for that.” 

You think you should be upset, but all you can feel is utter relief. 

“A joke,” you repeat, your cadence flat. “Right.” 

“I’m sorry. When you said ‘anything,’ my imagination went wild.” 

His shift in demeanor, although drastic, is no less welcome. 

“Really, though… just being near you helps,” he nods as if it’s a foregone conclusion. “I’ll be alright. I only need a bit more time.” 

The finality in his tone poses a difficult obstacle to argue against. Your trepidation must be obvious, for he walks over, gazing down at you with soft eyes. The dark circles beneath them shoot through your heart like a bullet. If there’s anything you understand, it’s sleepless nights. Remaining upset with him or Satoru is impossible. They always find a way to thaw the ice, one layer at a time. 

“Don’t scare me like that,” you murmur. “I thought you were going off the deep end.” 

Suguru’s next laugh is melodic and, most notably, genuine. 

“Not a chance. Not if you aren’t there beside me.” 

-

December 24th, 2017. 

4:30 p.m.

-

“Feeling restless, sensei?” 

Zenin Maki’s voice echoes throughout the empty hallways, earning your attention. She regards you with an impeccable poker face. Nonetheless, you catch hints of her unease. Her posture is stiff and her eyes meticulously scan your surroundings. You can’t blame her. The entire Jujutsu world is waiting with bated breath, anticipating an unprecedented disaster. All sorcerers — with the exception of you, her, and Yuta — have taken to the streets of Shinjuku and Kyoto. 

There’s nothing you can do except wait. 

“What gave it away?” You ask, despite knowing full well you couldn’t be more obvious if you tried. The chance to take your mind off things with banter would serve you both well. 

“Oh, I dunno,” she shrugs, lips forming a wry grin. “Maybe just the fact you’ve lapped the school like, fifty times. Impressive stuff.” 

“And here I thought I was being discreet.” 

Maki snorts. “Mind if I join you for lap fifty-one?” 

“Be my guest.” 

She half-jogs until she’s by your side. “Any word yet?” 

“Radio silence,” you shake your head. “We’ll hear as soon as there are any updates.” 

At this, she hums, throwing her arms behind her back. You walk absentmindedly through the halls, no real destination in mind. A part of you remains doubtful of Satoru’s decision. When the fighting starts, your presence on the battlefield would’ve been a great benefit. Ophanim excels at eliminating multiple small targets, which, according to the meetings you attended, constitute the majority of Suguru’s armada. 

“You were classmates with that guy, right?” 

You hope she doesn’t notice how your countenance falls. “Mm. Yeah.” 

“One of Jujutsu’s most notorious boogeyman and the blindfolded idiot,” Maki grimaces. “Sounds like hell.” 

“It wasn’t so bad.” 

“Right. Guess Ieiri-sensei was there too. That helps balance things out.” 

For a moment, she pauses, glancing at you from the corner of her eyes. “... What was he like?” 

You tilt your head. “Satoru?” 

“God, no. I mean the other one,” she waves her hand. “Geto.” 

How would you describe him from those carefree, bygone days? 

He could be a bit mischievous. He knew how to get away with things, how to test the limits of others. He wanted to make good on his strength. He tempered Satoru’s ego, challenged him to be better. But most of all, he had this quiet resolve others couldn’t help but admire. I trusted him wholeheartedly. I wanted to grow alongside him. I wanted to make him proud and be proud of him in return. I thought we could change the world for the better.

He was my best friend.

More than anything, he was my biggest regret. 

“If I had to pick a single word… it’d be ‘lost.’” 

[d1xonss]

Rules were Meant to be Broken

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : No Apocalypse AU

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Fluff / a tiny bit of angst

✧ Word Count : 4.3k

AN ~ Hiii I haven't done a one of these in a hot minute so I'm excited! This was requested a little while ago through anon, and you can click here to read the details of what this oneshot entails. I've never written a young Daryl before so it was fun to try something new. And don't hate me, but I sort of left this at a cliffhanger, so let me know if you guys would want a part 2!

Hope you enjoy! xoxox

You sighed tiredly, forcing yourself to stay awake to try and finish the assignment that was laying on your desk before you. The words on the paper were mocking in a way. Knowing that you had put it off until the last minute and were now paying every possible price of staying up later to get it done as it was due first thing in the morning. Graduation couldn’t come fast enough it seemed like.

School always felt like a crushing weight on your shoulders all throughout your life. A constant pressure and expectation to always excel in everything you did despite how tiring it all was at times. Still, you pushed yourself constantly, feeling an unbearable need to please everyone around you and to prove to yourself that you could always do better. But every once and a while, it was nice to have some kind of distraction.

Though suddenly you were broken out of your thoughts when you heard the sound of a small tapping coming from the outside of your bedroom window. At first you brushed it off, assuming it was your foggy mind playing tricks on you, but then you heard it again. And again. Until finally you peeled yourself away from your chair to open the curtains and find the source of the noise. Only to see Daryl Dixon crouching on his knees in front of you. Your boyfriend.

It was a complicated relationship to say the least, not because there was anything wrong with what the two of you had. But because…your dad didn’t exactly approve. 

Even though you were almost a legal adult, the thought of you going out with the rough, redneck, high school dropout didn’t sit too well with Rick Grimes. He didn’t believe the boy was good enough for you, though not in an overprotective way. But in the way where he truly believed he would never be able to provide for you, never be able to give you what you truly deserved. That, and he was also a terrible influence on you. Ever since you had met, you had skipped school, stayed out way past curfew, and had also tried smoking a cigarette. That there was the final straw.

After your dad had picked up on all the trouble you had been getting into, he had no choice but to forbid you from seeing the Dixon boy ever again. Though clearly…that new rule wasn’t working out too well. It just made you more sneaky if anything.

You smiled brightly upon seeing the unexpected visitor, quickly unlocking and opening up the window just enough so you could stick your head out. “What’re you doing here?” you whispered.

He didn’t answer you. Instead he leaned in and cupped your face, pressing his lips to yours in a soft yet heated kiss, clearly missing you from just the few days you two had been apart. Ever since he had quit going to school it wasn’t often that you had the chance to see each other as much as you used to; but Daryl always found the time. Eventually he found the strength to pull away, still letting it linger for as long as possible before he looked at you with a small smile.

You blinked a few times, still feeling a bit flustered as you stared up at him dreamily, “Hi…”

“Hi,” he repeated with a small chuckle, “Come on.”

Your head tilted a little, “What?”

“Come on,” he nodded back toward where his rusty beat-up truck was parked in the street. “Come sneak out with me.”

“Oh, no I can’t. Not tonight.” He gave you a look that screamed he didn’t believe you. “No, really I have this big assignment due tomorrow and I’m not even halfway done with it. Plus, the last time I snuck out with you we almost got caught again.”

Daryl shrugged, “That’s what makes it fun.”

You rolled your eyes though you couldn’t help but laugh a little, “Daryl…”

“Come on,” he tried to gently coax again, “Quit bein a nerd for a while and just spend the night with me.”

Your eyes narrowed a little when he called you that, knowing it was slightly true with how much time you put into your school work. But you couldn’t stay annoyed with him for long. He knew all the ways to butter you up.

“I’ll get you a slushie from the gas station. One of them coca-cola ones you like so much.” 

A slow smile was brought to your face at the mention of the sweet drink you always favored, and it did sound good right about now. That distraction you were oh so conveniently thinking of earlier seemed to fall right into your lap. Even though you knew you had to be responsible, you couldn’t help but want to spend every waking moment with him. After all, you were young and in love. His bribe eventually caused you to crack as you quickly slipped on a pair of shoes, before hoisting yourself up to climb through the window, making sure to leave it open just a little for when you came back home.

Hand in hand, the two of you ran through the grass and toward his vehicle so you could make a fast and dramatic getaway, laughing all the while he started it up and raced down the street. 

It was nights like these you loved the most, almost as if you were running away from your day to day life to just get out and be at peace with him wherever he decided to take you. Despite what others might think by looking at the two of you, he treated you with the utmost respect and care, feeling like his presence alone was a safe haven. Even though you knew of the things he had been through, his family life and the many tragedies that came along right with it, he was so gentle with you. Like he wanted to hand you the world on a platter, give you everything that he never had. How could you not be head over heels?

It was hard at first getting him to trust you, getting him used to affection and your words of affirmation as he was clearly not used to anything of the sort. But you were always patient with him through it all, watching him let his walls down one by one as time went by. Listening to him when he wanted to talk about his asshole of a brother, to comforting him after yet another fight with his dad. He didn’t talk much during those times. But you were still there if he wanted to. And after realizing that you truly weren’t going anywhere, he became the biggest softie in the world.

“So,” his voice broke you out of your thoughts, “I figured we could stock up on some snacks and head down to the river? There’s this new spot I wanna show ya.”

You nodded in agreement with a small smile, always favoring that specific place considering it was so far out of town. It was so quiet and peaceful out there compared to how it was in the city, a stark contrast of what you were always used to with life moving so fast. But out there, you felt you could just be.

After stopping by the gas station as promised, Daryl began the drive a bit further toward the countryside, having the route memorized by now with how much time he spent out there in the woods. His hand instinctively reached for yours over the center console, giving it a gentle squeeze before raising it up to his mouth to leave a gentle kiss along your knuckles. He felt relief and comfort in your presence, leaning his cheek against your fingers while his thumb traced over your skin soothingly. The quiet rock music playing from his busted radio was the only filler noise needed.

Once you two had finally made it to the designated destination, you came to realize why he had brought you here in the first place. The spot he had conveniently picked had a perfect view of the many stars and constellations, the calming sound of the water only adding to the tranquility you desired. And your usual routine was always the same, the both of you would just bitch about life. Life and whatever wicked curveballs it threw at you, sharing a cigarette that Daryl always provided, and if he was lucky, you’d make out. He’d consider himself to be even luckier if you allowed his hands to wander.

“How long before yer dad finds out yer gone?” he asked with a light chuckle, taking a chip from the bag to pop into his mouth.

You let out a small breath at even the possibility of him catching you, “Let’s just hope he doesn’t at all.”

Daryl scoffed, “Come on, you know he watches out for ya like a hawk. Ain’t much gets past him.”

“You don’t have to talk him up, he’s not here you know.” you joked.

He chuckled again and his gaze lingered on you for a few beats, seeming to assess the situation like he had done many times before. You knew that look all too well, the insecurity behind his eyes that wouldn’t seem to vanish no matter how much you wanted it too. That was another thing he did; he got in his head far too much.

“He still don’t like me, huh?”

You shook your head, scooting closer to him, “No, don’t say that. He just…doesn’t know you.”

“He does,” he gently argued, “He deals with assholes like me on a daily basis, m’ sure I can figure out why he don’t want me around his daughter.”

“Well…then why do you always want to see me?” you asked knowingly as you leaned in closer to his face.

He smirked, “Cause…” he trailed off, feeling a bit embarrassed still to admit the deep affections he felt for you. Almost like he didn’t want to say it out loud as if it would jinx his sudden luck.

“Come on…say it.”

You watched him roll his eyes, “Cause m’ in love with ya, alright? There.”

A bright smile wormed its way onto your face, leaning in closer to kiss his cheek over and over while your hand held his face in place as you showered him with gentleness. He scoffed at your antics but made no effort to push you away, silently relishing in your touch that he could never seem to get enough of. He had never been shown such a thing in all his life, always being lectured about tough love and taking things like a man, to not wear his emotions on his sleeve. And he had to remind himself time and time again that with you, things were different.

Eventually he turned his head to capture your lips on a proper kiss, raising his own hand to the back of your neck to pull you even closer to him. Feeling the warmth radiating off of you. You allowed him to deepen the kiss for a moment, his mouth slotting perfectly with your own before you slowly broke it off to speak again.

“Don’t worry about any of that, okay? I’m here because I want to be…so don’t go thinking otherwise.”

Daryl looked at you for a lingering moment before nodding his head, the familiar small smirk returning to his face, “Maybe we should elope someday to really stick it to the man.”

You raised your free hand to cover his mouth as you let out a small laugh, “Quit talking like that.”

He chuckled against your palm when it suddenly enveloped his mouth, taking the opportunity to stick his tongue out and lick your skin which caused you to immediately pull away with a gasp. “Ew! Daryl!” 

His amusement only grew further upon hearing your protest, leaning in close again to begin to playfully kiss and nip at the skin on your neck. He figured that was a good enough distraction to steer the conversation away from your father even though he was the one to bring it up. He didn’t want to think about it too long, not when he had a limited amount of time with you.

You giggled infectiously, “Hey, wait a second. I wanted to talk to you about something else.”

Daryl pulled back almost instantly, looking a bit worried when you said you wanted to talk. To him that could never lead to anything good. But you quickly shook your head, “It’s nothing bad, don’t worry,” you reassured, “Just…promise not to roll your eyes.”

Now he was very confused, but nonetheless he nodded, “Alright, yeah. I promise.”

“Okay,” you sighed as you prepared yourself to bring up the topic. You had been meaning to discuss it for a while with the event seemingly just around the corner now. But with him making the comment about eloping then brought the idea of proposals. And there was a certain proposal you had been anticipating to hear.

“So…prom’s coming up.” you hinted hesitantly.

That was all he needed to hear before he was rolling his eyes, unable to stop himself it seemed like. You gently smacked his arm, “Hey, you promised.”

“M’ sorry, I just…” he scoffed, “I don’t see the point in goin is all. That stupid shit is too damn overhyped.”

“Maybe it is, but it’s my senior year and I haven’t gone to a single dance.” you tried, “All of my friends are going with dates and I don’t want to be the only one left out.”

He sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face, clearly not too keen on going to any kind of preppy school activities. Especially since he knew if he did attend, he would never hear the end of it from his friends. “I doubt they’d even let me step foot in that place after I dropped out. The situation wasn’t exactly pretty.”

You gave him a look, “It’s not going to be at the school, they rented a nice place. And besides I don’t think they’ll hold a grudge if we just pop in for a couple hours.”

“Hours??”

“Okay, okay, just one hour I promise.” you raised your hands in surrender, “We can drink the spiked punch, take some stupid pictures in the photo booth, dance for one song, and then we can leave.”

Daryl narrowed his eyes a little as he scanned your expression, going back and forth in his head for what felt like a lifetime. What he really wanted was to spend time with you, but not in a crowded room with blasting music filled with a bunch of people he didn’t care for. In fact he couldn’t think of anything worse. But just that one pleading look in your eyes was enough for his defenses to crack.

You smiled sweetly, holding your hands up as if you were praying, “Please…?”

A low grumble of reluctance was pulled from him, no longer able to stand your pouty lip, “Fine…I’ll take ya.”

He watched your face instantly light up at his acceptance, squealing in excitement as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug. And despite not loving the idea, he couldn’t help but smile at how eager you became, knowing he was doing it all just to make you happy. And if that meant dancing with you at prom like some sappy romantic comedy, he would do it in a heartbeat just to see you smile like that again.

“But I ain’t gonna wear no tux.”

You laughed a little, pulling away just enough to look at him, “I figured you’d say that, and you don’t have to. Just dress nice…ish.”

He hummed, “Yeah, guess I ain’t gettin away with showin up in a shirt and jeans, hm?”

“No, definitely not.” you said with a shake of your head, brushing some of his hair away from his face, “But I don’t know…I kinda like the idea of seeing you a little dressed up.”

“A button down shirt and pants is bout as good as yer gonna get, baby.”

Your smile widened, loving when he called you that, “Deal.”

A smirk crossed his face when he spotted the blush rising to your cheeks, a noise of satisfaction escaping him as he shifted you onto his lap, his hands holding onto your hips. “You got anything else you wanna tell me?”

You leaned forward just as he did, your noses brushing together as both of your intentions were clear, “I love you...”

He smiled, “I love you too.” he spoke before leaning in to close the remaining distance between you, kissing you with a deep sense of passion. Apparently, tonight he was lucky.

The two of you hadn’t realized how much time had passed as you stayed out by that river for hours you were sure, no longer caring about the responsibilities waiting for you back home. No longer caring about the classes you had to attend the next morning or the paper you had yet to finish. Perhaps your dad was right in a way, maybe he was a bad influence on you. But he made you feel free.

It was just nearing four in the morning by the time the truck had pulled back up to your house, the clock on the dashboard of the vehicle only making you realize just how long you were lost in a bliss of happiness. Time really did fly after all. Especially when someone as hot as him was doting on you endlessly, it was enough to make your head fuzzy. And now with him not wanting you to leave just made it all the more harder to get out of the vehicle.

You pulled back for air despite his quiet protests, “Okay, I have to go.” you said for what felt like the millionth time.

“No, no, just a few more minutes.” he pleaded softly as he pulled you back down to his lips, plunging his tongue into your mouth to silence you.

You whimpered a little when he kissed you again, feeling his hands slide back under your shirt to try and unhook your bra. You then laughed at his obvious antics, gently biting down on his bottom lip to get him to suddenly halt his movements, hearing him groan softly at the slight sting and your tongue soothing the pain a moment later.

“I really have to go.” you muttered against his lips, leaving one last parting kiss, “It’s so late.”

“Nah, really it’s early if ya think about it.” he said before leaning up to try and steal another from you. But you quickly dodged it with a small laugh, stumbling a bit to get off his lap and out the passenger’s side before he kept you here all night.

“Aye,” he called quietly just before you could shut the door, “I’ll call ya.”

You nodded eagerly with a smile before closing it with a soft click, turning around swiftly to rush back toward your window. Praying to get at least a few hours of sleep despite the adrenaline running through your veins. Though you attempted to be quiet upon entering back through the small space, you tripped and slid a few times, almost like you forgot how much of a struggle it was to get back inside. Clearly there was some sort of small decline that you always forgot about. With a breath of relief you shut the window delicately once you had landed on the familiar shag carpet of your room, feeling just a little too proud that you had managed to get away with staying out nearly all night. 

Though when you turned around, that high you once felt seemed to plummet faster than you ever expected.

An exaggerated gasp of shock left you when you saw your dad sitting on the edge of your bed, clearly anticipating your arrival for who knows how long. And his scowl was one that could shake the earth.

Your hand came up to rest over your now racing heart, trying to catch your breath from the sudden fright he had given you. “God…you scared me.” you whispered.

“I scared you?” he clapped back without missing a beat, the anger in his tone was crackling.

You had messed up big time, you knew you did. Which was why you couldn’t think of any other plausible response other than a quiet, “I’m sorry…”

He then stood up abruptly, “Where the hell were you?”

You sputtered like a damn fish, opening and closing your mouth to try and think of some kind of believable excuse, “I…I was-”

“Don’t even think about lying to me now,” he said harshly, yet still mindful of his volume in the quietness of the house, “Tell me where you’ve been. Right now.”

A defeated sigh left you, not being able to look him in the eye any longer, “I was…out at the river.”

“Alone?”

“No…no, not alone.” you answered vaguely, still keeping your eyes glued to your shoes. It was obvious he already knew, he just for some reason wanted you to admit it.

Rick folded his arms over his chest and his hands still shook with how furious he grew. Even after everything you had done in the past, this was a new all time low that he couldn’t bring himself to understand. Disappointment didn’t even begin to describe it.

“You were with that punk, weren’t you?” he pressed, really putting his interrogation skills to use.

It was then your gaze panned up to him, his words condescending and cruel to your ears, “That punk has a name, you know.”

“I don’t think you want to take that tone with me right now.” he warned lowly.

“No,” you said stubbornly, “No, this is all such bullshit.”

His eyes widened at your foul language, “Excuse me?” he asked, raising his tone slightly as the fire inside him burned hotter.

“I know I messed up, okay? I know.” you said a bit louder as well, your throat tightening with emotion, “I know I could’ve gotten hurt, or worse, or whatever the hell you always say. But the rest of this whole thing- it’s not fair! I should be allowed to love whoever I want to love. And you just took one look at him and decided to hate him before you ever even tried to know who he really is.”

“I don’t need to know him.” Rick snapped harshly, “I couldn’t give less of a damn what his favorite slipknot song is to know that he’s nothing but trouble. And as I remember, I told you I didn’t want you seeing him anymore, and you deliberately went behind my back and broke all the rules I set in place! All the rules that keep you safe.”

You sucked in a soft breath at his harsh tone, your head beginning to pound with exhaustion and frustration, but the bottom line was you knew he was right. To an extent anyway. You had screwed up in an unimaginable way but at the same time it was you who made the decision to go behind your father’s back. It wasn’t like Daryl held a gun to your head to force you out of the house, you willingly went because you wanted to. Because you would rather be with him in some way than no way at all.

Your hand came up to run through your hair as you attempted to gather your thoughts, “I get it, what I did was wrong and I told you I was sorry. And I’ll say it as many times as you need to hear it, but…don’t blame him for something I chose to do.”

Rick’s jaw clenched, “Who’s idea was it to sneak outta here?” You faltered, not knowing exactly how to answer. “Who’s idea was it for you to skip your classes? Or smoke a cigarette, or-”

“Jesus Christ, did he start global warming too?” you asked sarcastically.

“(Y/N).” he warned again.

You scoffed, “I’m sorry, but my God dad, you act like he’s the antichrist or something. But he’s not,” you whispered almost desperately, “If you would just try-”

He raised a hand to stop you from speaking, “No, that’s not how this works. I’m the parent, I’m the one who gets to call the shots, and right now I’m telling you to get comfortable in this room because you won’t be leaving it for a while. You will go to school and come straight home for the rest of the semester. No more friends, no more phone, nothing.”

Your eyes widened, “What? Dad-”

“No,” he interrupted you again, “You’re done, you’re out of chances. I’m not dealing with this anymore, and if I ever catch you with that boy again you best pray I don’t have my shotgun. Now, go to bed.” he commanded before turning on his heel to leave the room, slamming the door slightly behind him.

You flinched slightly at the sound that ricocheted off the walls, your hands coming up to cover your face as you finally allowed yourself to cry. Wondering how such a great night had turned so sour in a matter of minutes. Your dad’s voice replayed in your head over and over again like a busted record, the weight of them settling in now that he was gone, leaving the room oddly silent. Granted he was overexaggerating about the gun thing, everything else was set in stone and you were made well aware of it.

But one thing you weren’t aware of, were the tears stinging Rick’s eyes as he stalked through the house and back upstairs to rest his own head. Feeling guilty for the way he hurt you, though at the end of the day he knew it was all for your own good. After all, how much could that “punk” really care about you anyway?

~ Thanks for reading!

[kazekagevi]

Bonds Beyond Words: If Eywa Wills It

PART ONE -- PART TWO -- PART THREE

Pairing: Aged-Up!Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Word Count: 5k

Tags: dark themes, but this chapter is actually very fluffy and silly, Lo'ak and Kiri and Spider becoming reader's besties, many attempts at comedy, eventual NSFW, aged-up! Neteyam (and Lo'ak, Spider, and Kiri), reader has PTSD, Neteyam dislikes humans (except for you), eventual jealous/possessive Neteyam, future Olo'eyktan! Neteyam, enemies-to-lovers, interspecies slow burn, angst, fluff, probably OOC, POV’s all over the place, forgive the inconsistencies. 

Summary: You're not allowed to join the community until Jake Sully decides you're ready. Spider, Lo'ak, and Kiri teach you Na'vi.

A/N and Disclaimer: I tried my best to use some Navi language translators and the LearnNavi website to write this chapter, but there are bound to be language errors. I also know time works differently there. Sorry for all the inconsistencies!

This story contains explicit content and is only appropriate for audiences 18+. MDNI. Please do not repost my work. 

The science shack isn’t so bad. 

Your initiation begins after your first sleep that night. The next morning, Max and Norm put their research projects on hold to give you an actual, legitimate tour of the facility. The place is full of bells and whistles. Tiny buttons, translucent screens, and telecommunications. Technology is abundant; but your knowledge of how to use it is not. 

“Here is the airlock control panel,” Max explains. He hovers his palm over a sensor—when it flashes sage green, the user interface appears. “Once you’re ready to interact with the community, we’ll scan your handprints and give you full clearance,” he futhers. 

You’re helplessly eager. “Do you know when that will be?” you inquire. 

Max presses the controller in the center of the panel. The glass door to the inner chamber slides open. You peek your head inside the airlock space—there are respirator masks for both humans and Na’vi, as well as a broom in the corner. 

“I put that there,” Max says, referring to the broom. He’s stealthily ignoring your previous question. “Told Spider he needs to sweep after himself. He refuses to use the doormat outside. I think the only person who’s touched that broom has been me.”

You look at the ground. The floor of the airlock space isn’t as bad as you’d expect it to be. Admittedly, it’s filthy. There are mud stains of both human and Na’vi footprints on the vinyl floor. The size difference is jarring. 

You have an idea. You smirk to yourself. “What if I cleaned this mess for him?” you offer. “I’ll sweep, then mop. I need to start pulling my weight, too.”

Max sighs. “What? So you can put on one of those masks and sneak out before the Olo'eyktan says you’re ready?”

Your expression sours. “You didn’t have to say it like that,” you reply. “I wasn’t going to sneak out,” you admit aloud. “I was going to accidentally open the front door or something with a mask conveniently in place. It’s not as deceitful that way.” 

Max sighs again. “Well, I have no say in when you’re ready,” he confesses. “That decision is only Jake’s to make.”

You have no choice but to yield. Max taps the censor again. The airlock door falls shut into place. 

---

It takes an entire day to simply show you how everything works. It takes two more for you to demonstrate you were paying attention and know how to use everything. The only intuitive mechanisms are the knobs to the showers and the dials on the washer and dryer.

Like in any society, the science shack has its own set of rules, regulations, and norms—quite literally, since Norm transfers between his human body and Avatar frequently. The showers are closed once every twenty-five days for necessary maintenance. Humans aren’t to leave when the Na’vi are sleeping or on significant Omatikaya holidays. Don’t talk to Max before he’s had his first coffee. Spider is supposed to sweep after himself in the airlock room. You can’t use Mia’s handleless mug, but you’re allowed to wash it if you’re extra careful. 

By the end of the week, your head hurts. 

You know the only way to become proficient in something, like speaking a new language or utilizing advanced technology, is to thrust yourself into it. Take the plunge—don’t fear it. Embrace the nosedive. Freefall. 

So, after dinner on your seventh day, you get as close to doing that as possible. You sit on a small perch by a tiny window, nestled in a corner of the science shack. You’re hungry; for one, Norm’s cooking tastes much worse when you’re not famished, so you couldn’t force yourself to go back for seconds, let alone finish everything on your plate. 

But also, you’re hungry for something else. Now that you’re safe from the RDA, you can actually consider doing what you came to Pandora to do all along. You can practically taste it.

You know Jake Sully is right. Life in the science shack is complicated enough, and you need adequate time to acclimate. But you’re starting to feel like you’re trapped.  

The window allows you to see a slice of life at High Camp. You come here around the same time after a meal, just like clockwork. You haven’t seen Jake Sully since your conversation, but you’ve seen many others. 

Just right now, you see a group of young women shuffle past, laughing and gossiping about who knows what. You see two kids, presumably siblings, one chasing after the other, before they’re stopped by one of the village’s elders. You see injured warriors limp towards the tsahìk’s tent. You see a woman in her homestead, weaving a basket. You feel nothing but sonder; the profound sensibility that these people are all living complex lives of their own, and you’re simply witnessing these complexities unfold right before your eyes. 

You begin to recognize a few faces, like that of the shaman healer, otherwise known as the tsahìk. You also take note of which warriors visit her tent most frequently. 

You routinely see a Na’vi female with short, straight jet-black hair. She tends to pass by the science shack every evening of every day, stare at the door, frown, then leave. On two occasions, your eyes met before she wandered off. 

You’ve learned a few more common phrases, which Norm, Max, Spider and Mia teach you at meal times. Kaltxì is a standard greeting. Rutxe means please, and irayo means thank you. Ngafkeyk pefya? means ‘how are you?’ 

You also learned that the lines you recited to the Na’vi in the forest, Neteyam, were of a standard dialect. They weren’t incorrect, just slightly different from that of the Omatikaya’s. And, allegedly, your pronunciation was off. 

In your extensive travels on Earth, you learned quickest when you immersed yourself in a new, unfamiliar environment. It was the rush—the thrill, the trepidation—that drove you to adapt. It was as just as you told Jake Sully: so I will. 

Immersion is the only way. Norm knows this too; as an exceptional xenolinguist, he learned more from interacting with the Na’vi for a few weeks than he did from reading any book. He really understands. He wishes he had more time to help with your studies, but he must return to his work. His newest botany project is time sensitive. 

As you sit by the window, you use an electronic tablet programmed with a basic flashcard feature to get yourself acquainted with the Na’vi language. It’s not particularly helpful, since spoken practice is more beneficial than anything written. You’ve been skimming some of Jake’s old journals, too. But at the time of their conception, he wrote only in English, and misspelled many Na’vi words and phrases. 

The flashcards do nothing besides test your aptitude for memorization. It doesn’t help that your attention span is elsewhere, like you left it on a far, distant planet.

Everytime someone passes by the window in your peripheral vision, you have no choice but to look up and see who’s there. It’s usually another Na’vi face you’ve never seen before. You don’t realize it initially, but the more you turn your head, you’re helplessly aware that you’re looking for someone. It never is, but you’re hopeful it might be Neteyam—you still owe him for saving your life. You have an inkling however, that he’s probably avoiding this place for one reason or another. That very reason might just be yourself. 

It’s obvious that this method of study is inefficient. You power off the tablet and continue people-watching with your knees tucked against your chest. 

Any moment now, you know you’ll see that girl with shoulder-length hair. You want to know why she frowns, but you don’t know how to ask ‘what’s upsetting you?’ in Na’vi. 

Now that you think about it, though, you’re unsure if that’s a wise idea. Even when you are allowed into the community, you know that you will have to keep a distance. Know your place. Although the humans and Na’vi residing here coexist in apparent harmony, you don’t want your presence to disrupt the peace. 

There’s a quiet knock on the other side of the airlock door across the main room—it’s so faint you almost miss it. 

When you sit up, you hear footsteps thudding against the vinyl flooring. You see Spider look around then over his shoulder as he approaches the door. 

He begrudgingly places his hand over the scanner. He presses a button and the front of the airlock opens. 

He quietly shouts something in Na’vi—skxawng. You’re not sure what this word means yet.

From your window perch, you can’t see what’s going on, but Kiri and Lo’ak enter the space through the main door. They each grab a respirator. 

Spider continues to say things you don’t understand. From his tone of voice, he seems slightly agitated. 

“You can’t be here,” Spider says to both of them in Na’vi. “Not until the new girl gets introduced to the community.”

Lo’ak takes a deep breath—the respirator in his hand looks so small. He’s almost as tall as his father now. As the years pass, Lo’ak just gets bigger and bigger. It makes him feel like Spider is shrinking. 

“C’mon man,” Lo’ak says. “Let us in. We’ll only take a minute,” he adds, wearing a devious smirk on his face. “I uh, forgot something when I was here last?” he tries. 

“Yeah, right,” Spider replies. 

“Lo’ak, you’re not helping my case,” Kiri says, glaring at her older brother. 

Lo’ak’s jaw drops. He scoffs at her. “You told me to come with you!”

“Yes, and it turns out you’re not helping!” Kiri hisses. 

Spider groans. “Can you two just leave? I don’t want to get any flak for this.”

Kiri grits her teeth. She places both of her hands on the glass separating them. “Please, Spider. I haven’t seen Mom in forever,” she says. Her eyes water. “It hasn’t been this long since the time we lived in Awa'atlu… I miss her.”

The crease between Spider’s brows disappears. From what you can see, he looks apologetic. “Oeru txoa livu,” he says to Kiri. “But I’m not supposed to let anyone in besides your dad.”

Lo’ak’s expression falters. He looks at his feet. His ears fall flat. “You know, I haven’t seen Tsireya since we left Awa'atlu,” he says just loud enough for Spider and Kiri to hear.

Spider rubs his nose bridge. Kiri sighs and flicks his temple with her fingers. Once Lo’ak starts talking about Tsireya, he can’t stop. 

While this interaction continues to transpire, you stand from your perch and tiptoe over. Your footsteps are padded by thick, cotton socks. You advance slowly, like you’re approaching a crime scene covered with caution tape. 

“Lo’ak, go home and go to bed,” Kiri says, poking his chest. She then spins back around. “Spider, let me in, please.”

 “I’m sorry, Kiri,” Spider replies. “You know I would if I could.” 

Kiri places her hands on her hips. “You can, very easily, actually. Just press the button,” Kiri says. She points to the spot where she knows it is on the other side of the door. “It’s right there.”

Spider sighs. The crease in his brow returns when he realizes Lo’ak is suddenly smiling. “Why are you doing that?”  

Lo’ak waves to you from the other side of the airlock. “Hi!” He greets you in English. “What’s your name?”

Spider jolts when he realizes you’re standing there right behind him.

Kiri gasps. Her eyes go wide—they practically sparkle when she’s excited. “I told you, I saw her!” she says to Lo’ak in Na’vi. 

You smile at the male and female Na’vi before you. They seem so friendly, and the male Na’vi’s English sounds great. “Hello there,” you reply. You formally introduce yourself. 

Spider presses a palm to his temple. He knows he’s going to get in trouble. 

“It’s nice to meet you!” the female Na’vi says, also in English. “I’m called Kiri. And this is my older brother, Lo’ak.”

That’s his cue—Lo’ak waves again, flashing his vibrant smile. 

Spider scoffs. 

“My good brother here, Spider,” says Lo’ak, “this skxawng,” he adds, more quietly, “was about to let us inside.” 

“I was not,” Spider protests. 

“C’mon,” you say. Spider rolls his eyes—you’ve just met Lo’ak but he’s already infected you with whatever ailment he has that makes him the way that he is. At the same time, however, Spider knows it’s one of the best things about him. 

“Why can’t we let them in?” you ask. This is the most exciting thing that’s happened to you in five days. 

“Exactly,” says Lo’ak. “Let us in,” he chants quietly. 

“The door isn’t broken, is it?” you further, keeping a serious demeanor. “I’ll just check to make sure it works,” you tell Spider. 

“Wait–”

The airlock’s inner chamber door opens, allowing Lo’ak and Kiri entry. 

“Would you look at that,” you profess. “I know how the door works.” 

Lo’ak chuckles as he strolls inside like he owns the place. Kiri rushes past the three of you, making a beeline for the large container in the middle of the main room. She presses her palms against the glass and whispers to the Avatar stuck inside. Your brows furrow in confusion. 

“You were right,” Lo’ak mutters to Spider in English. “She is short, even for a human.”

Your jaw goes slack. A surprised chuckle falls from your lips. “If you call Spider skxawng, then what are you?” you can’t help but retort. 

He grins. “If there was a clan of a hundred skxawng’s,” Lo’ak says, “they would have no choice but to make me their leader.”

You laugh again—harder than you were expecting to. This Na’vi might be an ass, but at least he’s got a sense of humor. 

Spider groans again. “If you two knuckleheads stay, you have to keep it down,” he says.

Lo’ak puts his hands up, defensively. 

“Can I ask what she’s doing over there?” you say aloud. 

Kiri now has her face pressed against the glass. It fogs from her breath. 

Spider and Lo’ak look at each other. Lo’ak rubs the back of his neck before speaking: “it’s a long story, but that’s the Avatar of Kiri’s biological mother. Kiri is my adoptive sister.” Lo’ak then hums to himself. “Maybe it’s not such a long story, after all.” 

That’s why she looked so sad. She simply missed her Mom. 

You blink once. “Oh, alright.” You nod, looking at Spider. “All of that information about Mia’s coffee mug was really important, but this,” you say, gesturing to the tube in the center of the room. “Not so much.”

Spider shrugs. “It’s important,” he says. “But, this is just commonplace for all of us.”

“She’s been doing this since we were kids,” Lo’ak reaffirms. 

“Maybe we’re blind to it,” Spider offers. “It’s always there, so we can’t even see it if it’s right in front of us.” 

Lo’ak simpers. “Well said.” 

“Thank you,” says Spider. He grins.  

They nod together and rub their chins like idiots. You assume this must be a regular thing for them. 

“Skxawngs,” you say. 

Of course, they both look your way, as though you’ve called them by their birth name. 

“Did I use that properly?” you ask in English. 

They nod. You sigh woefully.

Lo’ak practically snatches such low-hanging fruit: “What’s got you all blue?” 

You can’t help but glare at him. “They say you don’t know a language unless you know how to properly insult someone,” you say. “But I don’t actually know any useful Na’vi, and I haven’t had a conversation with anyone. Half of the words I know are just insults!”

“Simmer down,” says Spider. “You learned plenty today,” he says. 

“And, last I heard, you did have a conversation with someone,” Lo’ak mutters. 

Spider crosses his arms over his bare chest and looks you in the eye. “We’ll do our best to teach you.”

“Then teach me,” you reply, glaring daggers his way. 

Spider’s eyes narrow. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. A couple of hours ago, you were enthusiastic. Now, you’re starting to get on his nerves. 

Spider then looks over at Kiri, and makes an almost silent whistling noise. In response, Kiri’s ears twitch and she peeks over her shoulder. 

“What the hell did you just say to her?” you demand. 

“Oh, that?” Spider chuckles dryly. “I didn’t say anything, yet.”

“What is it?” Kiri calls back to him.

When Spider responds, he speaks entirely in Na’vi. When Kiri replies to him, she does the same. Spider then turns to you, speaks only in Na’vi again, then laughs. He says something else. Laughter erupts. Kiri and Lo’ak follow suit. 

You have no choice to presume they’re talking shit about you in their native language. 

In reality, they’re saying things that make no sense just to get you riled up. The first thing Spider told Kiri was “let’s pretend like we’re making fun of her. Keep going along with it until I say stop.”

Needless to say, they play their roles with great conviction, like actors on a stage. They fool you. 

“You guys are dickheads! That’s enough.”

They finally stop when you fold your arms over your chest and start pouting; but they don’t stop laughing until Norm yells from down the hall to, in his words, ‘tone that shit down.’ When they’re caught, Spider purses his lips, and Kiri and Lo’ak takes deep breaths from their respirator masks in unison. 

“You’re incredibly impatient,” Spider admits, lowering his voice. Lo’ak nods in agreement. You’re all sitting around the tube that holds Grace’s Avatar. Kiri traces small shapes on its surface with her lithe fingertips. 

“And you three,” you say, pointing at each of them, “are a bunch of jesters.”

“No, you’re a jester,” says Lo’ak. He doesn’t even know what that word means, not in English anyway. 

“That’s exactly what a jester would say.” You groan in frustration. “I am impatient, but you don’t have to say it so directly,” you reply. Your expression is downcast and dejected. 

You want to learn the language. You want to be able to talk to people. You want to carry out conversations, and learn, and laugh, and cry. You want to become a phoenix, rising from the ashes of an otherwise hopeless situation. You’re here, you’re alive, yet you don’t feel that way. Not at all. 

You don’t want to feel like an outsider. You don’t want to live life from a bird’s eye view, on your little perch by the tiny window. You don’t want to feel like a canary in a cage. You don’t want to feel like a fish in a large, technologically-advanced bowl. Or like a beetle in a glass jar with holes poked in the top. You don’t want to be alone. You don’t want to be locked away in the science shack, just like how you were in the RDA’s basement. 

Your eyes water. How could it be? Have you simply gone from one prison to another?

“You may be impatient, but I think you’ll fit in with us just fine,” Lo’ak interjects. He smiles genuinely. After a few moments, so do Spider and Kiri.

You wipe your eyes. Your face feels hot. 

Kiri calls you by your first name, grasping hold of your attention. “Don’t worry. We’ll teach you to speak Na’vi, and you’ll be just like the rest of us,” she says affectionately. 

“I don’t know about that,” Lo’ak mutters. 

There’s a pregnant pause. You, Spider, and Kiri expect him to say that you’ll never be a true Na’vi, or something of the sort. You weren’t raised as such, like the three of them. 

“She won’t grow another foot overnight,” Lo’ak says finally. He looks right at you with a shit-eating grin. “You’ll never be as tall as we are.”

“Well said,” Spider remarks. 

---

Kiri and Lo’ak can’t stay for much longer—they have to sneak back to their tent before Jake Sully finds out what they’ve been up to. 

“They won’t get in trouble if he finds out, right?”

You and Spider are the last two awake. You’re sitting at the kitchen table. 

Spider waves his hand around nonchalantly. “They never do,” he says. There’s a brief pause. “Okay, sometimes Lo’ak does,” Spider adds. “But never Kiri or Tuk. You’ll meet her eventually. She’s the youngest sibling.”

“Alright, so there’s the three of them. Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk. And Neytiri is their mother, right?”

“Four of them,” Spider corrects you. “Neteyam is the oldest. One year older than Lo’ak.” 

You blink. “Neteyam is the Olo'eyktan’s eldest son? The one who found me?” 

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” Spider retorts. 

You glare at him. “Yes, that’s what you said, only a whole week late!” You whisper-shout at him. “Just like with Kiri’s biological mother.”

Spider throws his hands up. “I guess I thought someone already told you,” he says defensively. “You talked to Jake, right?”

“Right,” you reply. “But he didn’t mention anything about Neteyam being his son. Didn’t mention anything about his children actually.”

“With all that you went through with those fuckers, he may have thought it could be taken as insensitive,” Spider suggests. 

You hum. Maybe, just maybe, Spider’s right.

“Kiri works in the tsahìk’s tent during the day. Lo’ak puts in the least amount of effort necessary to be considered one of the warriors,” Spider says. “He’s usually around, but oftentimes not. Either way, we will find time to help you learn Na’vi.” 

“Is Neteyam one of the warriors?” you ask. 

Spider nods. “These days, he’s become one of the best.”

Your thoughts drift back to when Neteyam found you. You were practically ambushed—he was so controlled, so swift with his movements. Spider’s words don’t surprise you.

“So, he’s busy all the time?”

Spider addresses you by name. “What are you getting at?”

“I still need to thank him,” you confide. “He can’t avoid me forever.”

Spider sighs. “He can try,” he mutters. 

“So, he is avoiding me?” you ask. Your cheeks are turning red again.

“He’s…” Spider begins. He looks distraught. “He wasn’t always like this,” Spider says. “Neteyam and I are cool, but he never sets foot inside this place if he doesn’t have to. Ever since the Sully family returned from living with the Metkayina, the Reef People, he doesn’t get along with Norm and the others like Kiri and Lo’ak… He merely tolerates the scientists here.” 

“You’re saying he hates humans,” you say bluntly. 

“Hate is a strong word,” Spider replies. “But he has many reasons to dislike them…” Spider swallows. “To dislike our kind.” 

The words fall from your lips: “you’re right.”

You begin to question whether or not you should follow through with thanking him for saving you. The interaction with Kiri and Lo’ak went so well—perhaps it gave you an ounce of hope, things might go smoothly with Neteyam too. He’s been on your mind constantly, replaying in your thoughts like a broken record. You’re certain there are other Na’vi who share similar sentiments. You have to be careful.

“Don’t think about it too hard,” says Spider. He stands from the table. “I’m going to sleep,” he says plainly. His footsteps fade as he walks to the barracks. 

Spider’s sympathies do very little to ease your mind. 

---

Spider kept his word. Kar is teach. Karyu is teacher, and Karyunay is apprentice teacher. Ayfo kar nga—they teach you. 

In the days—and eventually, weeks—to come, you fall into a new routine.

You study Na’vi during the day-time hours. The science shack isn’t so bad. Sometimes, if he’s available, Norm works with you on your phonetics and grammar. But typically, it’s just you, your electronic tablet, and your perch by the windowsill. 

When you learned other Earth languages in the past, it was easier to learn other languages in proximity to their language group with which you were familiar. Romance languages, such as Spanish, French, and Italian, bore many similarities. The same went for Germanic languages, and even some Sino-Tibetan languages. 

Na’vi, however, is completely different from any language you’ve spoken, or even attempted to learn. But your dedication is unwavering. 

Lo’ak and Kiri return to the science shack two days after your first encounter with them. 

“Okay, Spider was right. At first, he was angry,” Kiri says. She takes a deep breath through her respirator. “But then, I suppose he thought about it more and decided it was a good idea after all.”

Jake Sully has given Lo’ak and Kiri his word of approval to help with your studies at nightfall, as long as they don’t slack off their usual duties. 

“He thinks it’s a good ‘method of assimilation’ or some shit like that,” adds Lo’ak.

You nod. “He’s right,” you say. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Lo’ak admits nonchalantly. “Sometimes.” 

You all sit on the floor around Grace’s tube again. 

“Well,” you clear your throat. “Today, I studied grammatical structure and simple, common vocabulary. Maybe we could start with-”

“Nga za‘u ftu peseng?” Spider asks. He’s asking ‘where do you come from?’

You blink. It takes a moment for the cogs in your brain to rotate. But in due time, you register his question. 

“I come from Earth,” you reply in English.

“If you really want to learn,” Spider says, “you should reply in Na’vi.”

You should. The only issue is, you’re not sure how. But you have no choice but to give it a try. 

You fail the first time. The second time, you almost get it right—close enough to where Kiri pries her eyes away from her mother to give you a look of encouragement and a thumbs up. 

“You’re almost there,” says Lo’ak. He straightens his posture, no longer slouching against the glass tube. “But if you don’t want to sound like a baby learning their first words, you need to change up the word order. For myself, I would reply with ‘za‘u oe ftu Eywa’eveng.’ Which means in English, ‘I come from Pandora.’ Your reply, obviously, is going to be a little different.”

Lo’ak pauses, takes a breath from his respirator, then mimics your higher-pitched voice, speaking as you would reply in Na’vi. 

His impression of you is already spot on. “I don’t sound like that!” you protest. 

They all laugh, and you can’t help but join them. 

For the rest of the evening, the three of them ask you simple questions in Na’vi. All you have to do is reply, also in Na’vi. The longer you go, the easier it gets. You build upon the scaffolding of your day-time studies, as well as every question and response before the next. 

---

This continues for many nights. 

During the days when you’re sitting by the window and Lo’ak and Kiri pop into frame, you instinctively smile and wave to them. They always reciprocate. 

They don’t say it outwardly, but the two of them look forward to these evenings with you. They get to spend more time with Spider. And, although they’re both fluent in English, the practice benefits them, too. Plus, they’ve taken a liking to you as well. 

“Who the hell are you waving at, skxawng?” Neteyam asks Lo’ak one day. They’re about to head off on their ikrans to train. Lo’ak needs to learn a new hand-to-hand technique. Neteyam is conveniently out of your line of sight.

“I’m waving to the new girl!” Lo’ak exclaims. He continues waving. He’s practically beaming.

Neteyam huffs. 

“Her pronunciation is getting much better,” Lo’ak says. His arm falls to his side again. “But it honestly wasn’t bad to begin with,” he adds. “Do you think you were, perhaps, exaggerating?”

“No,” Neteyam answers curtly. He looks agitated—his ears twitch and his tail swishes wildly. “She’s a distraction." You're proving Neteyam's point. Lo'ak won't stop waving. Neteyam groans. "Hurry up, Lo'ak. We have things to do,” he says. When they were younger, Neteyam would’ve slapped Lo’ak’s bicep or grabbed him by the ends of his hair, but he’s a man now. He can’t show his impatience or impulsivity. 

Lo'ak disappears from your vantage point.

---

It’s already been a month. Your diligent practice is starting to pay off. 

You can hold very basic conversations in Na’vi. You’re learning more about the language and culture every day. 

They don't want to feed your ego, but your teachers have discovered you're a fast, proficient learner.

“Syep means 'to trap.' It’s a verb,” Lo’ak explains to you in English. He’s lying on the floor with his legs propped up on a chair from the dining table. Suddenly, he swings his feet from the chair, and stands to his feet. 

You don't want to feed any of their egos either, but they're all smarter than they think. Especially Lo'ak.

“Spider, peseng lu syeprel?” Lo’ak asks. 

You’re unsure what a syeprel is, but you know he’s asking where it’s located. 

“I think it’s in the supply closet, over there,” Spider replies in Na’vi. 

“What’s a syeprel?” you ask, also in Na’vi. 

“Take a guess!” Lo’ak calls from down the hall. 

You hum. You switch back to English: “Well, it must be a particular type of trap? Like a mouse trap or something?”

Kiri hums too. “It does technically trap something,” she says after a few moments. “But you’re thinking too literally,” she adds with a smirk. 

You scratch your head. You’re dumbfounded. 

“A-ha!’ Lo’ak says triumphantly. “I’ve found it.”

“Found what?” you call. 

“Ask nicely,” says Kiri. “In Na’vi.”

You try again. “Rutxe,” you say, slightly embarrassed. You do as you’re told, and ask in Na’vi. 

Lo’ak returns. He’s holding an ancient piece of technology—an extremely old hand-held digital camera with a slightly scratched lens. “Say cheese!” 

He snaps a photo of you, Spider, and Kiri lounging around on the floor. None of you were prepared.

Kiri sighs and glowers at him. “Lo’ak!”

Lo’ak chuckles. “Alright, alright. We’ll take another one.”

The four of you stand around Lo’ak, the camera operator. “Kiri, crouch down a little bit,” he says, directing your places. “Spider, lean closer to Kiri.” You hear Spider sigh. 

Lo’ak then glances at you over his shoulder. “Stand on your toes, tawtute. Or else you won’t be in frame,” he chides you with a sly smile. 

You do just that and smile for the syeprel. “You’re an ass, Lo’ak,” you say through your teeth. 

“Smile, everyone!” he sings in Na’vi. Lo’ak spins the camera around to take a photo of everyone while operating it at the same time. He smiles and snaps another photo. The flash is momentarily blinding.

You break free from your pose. “So, a camera is called syeprel?”

“Yes, it is.” replies Lo’ak in Na’vi. “It traps a moment in time, doesn’t it? Rel means like an image, or a picture,” he adds in English.

It’s clicking. Your jaw goes slack. Spider can’t help but chuckle at your expression. 

“Language learning is so cool,” you gawk.

“You sound just like Norm,” says Kiri. 

“Whatever,” you say in Na’vi. You switch back to English again. “There are lots of animal names in English like that. Anteaters eat ants. Junebugs come out in the month of June to find mates. Grasshoppers hop around in the grass. Centipedes are named after their one hundred legs.” 

“Now you really sound like Norm,” Kiri teases you. “Don’t start talking about plants too, or I’ll have to go home.” 

“What about bed bugs?” asks Spider. “I've only heard of them from the others. Never seen them here. I’m assuming they would be found in your bed?” 

You nod. 

Kiri hums, thinking. “What about butterflies then?” she asks. “I know that butter comes from milk and milk comes from Earth cows, but could they make butter too?”

You scrunch your nose at the mere thought of butterfly butter. “I don’t think so.”

Lo’ak can hardly contain his laughter. “What about cockroaches?” 

Kiri smacks his chest. Lo’ak half-groans, half-cackles. Kiri scolds him in Na'vi, but it's not long before she starts laughing too. 

You and Spider follow suit.  From down the hall, Norm calls for you four to keep it down again.

But you can’t stop. In fact, Norm’s complaints make it worse. Joyous laughter fills the room. You’re having the time of your life. For the second time since your escape, you think this must be heaven. You’re briefly reminded of your imprisonment—you remember the few times you laughed with your cellmates. You remember those slivers of euphoria. 

You also remember that you’re safe now. The science shack isn’t so bad. Not with Spider, and Kiri, and Lo’ak, and even Norm, and Max, and Mia, and all the others. 

You laugh until your ribs hurt. You laugh until tears well in your eyes. 

---

A/N: This chapter was so fun to write! I hope you guys had as much fun reading it as I did writing it. Again, please forgive any language inconsistencies.

Don't worry my darlings! Neteyam is going to be all over the next chapter. Believe in the slow burn!

And thanks again for all the kind comments, reblogs, and notes. You guys are awesome!

Taglist: @m1tsu-ki @promnightbinbaby

[saylor-twift]

“How Rude!”

Here, catch! *throws this at you and runs away*

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: this is smut, but it’s just smthn silly I thought about last night

His hands are all over your waist and hips, your own tangled in his hair. His lips are on yours one, two, three times before they latch on to your jaw, sucking for one, two, three… archons, he’s so impatient. He’s really living up to his name as a Wanderer, too picky and choosy to just stay put on one part of your body for too long. It’s not like you mind really, if you could have his lips on every part of you all at once that might as well be a dream come true.

“Relax, just hold still… I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his hand drifting from your stomach to your thighs as if it were a naughty child escaping from detention, as if he didn’t want you to know he was doing it. “You’re so jumpy today.”

You huff amusedly in response, scratching the back of his head in a way that makes him shiver. Your cheeks are so warm you swear if someone held a hand just a few inches above your face, they could feel the heat like the hot plate of a stove. “Hold still? You’re the one that can’t keep his hands to himself.” You retort, and really, it’s all just for the amusement. You want to hear what he has to say in return. But even more so than that, you just want to hear his voice. “And yet..” he sighs dramatically, running a finger up to your belly button and back down, resting just above where he knows you want him the most, “you’re the one who asked for this,” he shoots you a beautiful, infuriating smirk, “so can you really blame me?” You smile back.

You glance up and to the side, tapping your finger to your rosy lips and pretending to ponder. “No,” you finally decide, “I cannot.” You then shuffle yourself downwards, switching from a seated position to lying on your back with your head comfortably rested against fluffed pillows, just how you like it. It makes him feel things, the way you prepare yourself for him. Hungry, knowing you want him as he wants you. You place your hands on his biceps, gently urging him upwards. “But you’re taking too long.” you say matter of factly. He easily complies, which always makes your heart flutter a little bit knowing that he is not nearly as complacent with anybody else.

“Well, I suppose I’d hate to keep you waiting, wouldn’t I?” he smirks, and his stomach tightens just a bit in anticipation as he lazily strokes himself, hovering just above you. You watch with hooded eyes and parted lips, hands resting on his shoulders and thumbs massaging the firm muscles beneath the skin. “You’re ready?” he confirms, his face switching from teasing to serious for just a moment, asking you to clarify one final time that this is really what you want. You nod with no hesitation. “Of course.” He nods, gaze drifting down to where the two of you will imminently connect. He presses just the tip alongside your hole, rubbing up and down one, two, three times before he finally pushes inside. One inch, then back out. Two inches, back out, three inches, until he’s finally settled at the base and you both are shaky and desperate for more. You let out a shaky breath, pressing your forehead against his shoulder as he slowly yet firmly rocks into you. You bite your lip to keep yourself quiet, much more keen on listening to the delicious sounds that leave his own lips, right against your ear.

He pulls out and pushes back in, easily doing so with how aroused you were. One, two, three times, and with each time he hits the base he presses himself against you just a little firmer. You open your mouth, allowing a sweet sigh to escape your lips at how delicious he feels, your head falling back against the pillow, and-

click! creaaaak…

You gasp sharply, jumping so hard your forehead bumps against his, and you scramble for the sheets, not quite sure where they are or what you want to do with them. Your lover dons a frightening glare, whipping his head towards the door to scowl at the disrespectful intruder. Standing in the doorframe, head only barely peeking out is none other than your poor, sweet, mortified friend. Her face is beyond red, both hands clasped over her mouth.

Wanderer makes a motion with his head and hand as if to say, “Well? Get on with it.” and your poor friend stutters over her words, frantically fumbling for the doorknob. “A-ah! I’m so sorry, I’ll just- I’ll just go now!” she blurts, shutting the door with a loud click. You can hear her frantic footsteps padding down the hallway.

You can only stare back up at your lover in shock, and a bit of amusement. He on the other hand is simply vexed, his brows furrowed in a mix of frustration and confusion. You laugh in shock for lack of anything other to do, and he sighs while running a hand through his hair.

“I… thought you had locked the door..?” you murmur in disbelief, smiling lopsidedly as you gently take his wrist from his head, bringing it back down to your side. He shakes his head, and you laugh internally realizing that he’s more embarrassed than anything else. “I thought I did.” he huffs, and begrudgingly moves himself from his comfortable position inside of you and strides over to the door, locking it and giving the handle a firm shake just to be certain. You can’t help but admire him as he walks, the muscles in his slender back and thighs tensing as he moves. You beckon him as he returns to you, to which he slides himself back into your arms whilst grumbling something under his breath. You decide not to question it, simply running your fingers through his hair.

“She won’t say anything about it, you know. She’s not like that.” you assure him, to which he sighs and lifts his head. “I figured she wouldn’t. Still, that was still not a pleasant experience.” he grumbles, and you resist the urge to smile and tease him; you know now isn’t the time.

…

“Don’t tell me you’re done already..?” you ask coyly, wiggling your hips and thighs in a way that causes his member to brush against your stomach, still undoubtedly hard. He flushes even more intensely, sending you a warning scowl. “Done?” he sits up a little more, grabbing you by the hips in a way that makes your stomach tingle with butterflies. “If anything, I’m far more motivated now. The door’s locked now, is it not?”

[nemo-writes]

𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗀𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗍𝖿 141 𝗁𝗎𝖻𝖻y 𝗍𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝖽(𝗌) 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝗂𝖼 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗌 ; 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 ── .✦

masterlist

── .✦ 𝗉𝗋𝗂𝖼𝖾 ; "𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾."

the golden light of the setting sun painted the small plaza in warm hues as you strolled along, hand in hand with your six-year-old daughter. she was a chatterbox as always, her little voice bubbling with excitement over everything and nothing at once.

john, walking just ahead, paused and turned to face her, tipping his hat back slightly so she could see the seriousness in his blue eyes. “right, love,” he began, his voice low and steady, the tone he used when he wanted her to really listen. “we’re goin’ to play a little game, yeah? if you ever lose me or your mum, you’ve got to stay put—don’t wander, don’t move. we’ll come find you. got it?”

she tilted her head, brows furrowing. “but what if i can’t find you?”

“you don’t find us, sweetheart,” he corrected gently, crouching to her level. “we’ll find you. but only if you stay put. like a statue. no runnin’ off, no matter what. understand?”

she nodded solemnly, her little face a picture of determination. “i’ll stay like a statue!”

john smiled, tapping her chin before standing. “that’s my girl. all right, let’s practice, then.”

with a satisfied nod, he began to walk away. his long strides took him toward one of the shopfronts, and you could see the faint twitch of a smile on his lips as he glanced back briefly under the brim of his hat.

you watched from a nearby bench, amused by your daughter’s dramatic stance, her little legs stock-straight as she stared after him. for a moment, she stayed put, her face scrunched in concentration.

but then—without a sound—she took a step forward.

you tilted your head, leaning forward slightly as you realized what she was doing. step by step, her tiny feet padded behind john, her movements careful and deliberate as if she were sneaking up on him. she kept her eyes on him like a hawk, completely ignoring everything else flitting around nearby.

john, oblivious at first, continued walking, his focus on the shops ahead. but when he slowed and turned to check on her, he froze.

there she was, just a few steps behind him, her little hands clasped in front of her and her face a picture of innocent curiosity.

john’s shoulders stiffened for a moment, then relaxed as he let out a low chuckle, turning fully to face her. his expression was caught somewhere between exasperation and pride.

“my love,” he said, his tone equal parts scolding and affectionate. “what are you doin’? you were supposed to stay put.”

she blinked up at him, her big eyes wide and earnest. “i was followin’ you, daddy!” she said proudly, as if that had been the plan all along.

john sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before crouching down to her level. “you’re not supposed to follow me, sweetheart. the whole point is for you to stay where you are so i can come find you.”

her little face scrunched in thought, clearly processing his words. but then she smiled, cheeks wide and full, and said, “but i found you instead!”

your husband let out a defeated laugh, shaking his head as he reached out to pull her into his arms. “you didn’t exactly follow the rules,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “but I can’t be mad at you for stayin’ close to your old man, can i?”

she giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. “i did good, daddy?”

john sighed again, though there was no hiding the warmth in his voice. “not quite what i was goin’ for, love,” he admitted, holding her close. “but yeah, you still did good. shows you’ve got a sharp little mind, doesn’t it?”

he stood adjusted her on his hip as she beamed with pride. you took that as your cue to step in, walking up to join them with a knowing smile.

“well,” you said teasingly, “i’d say this was a very price family sort of lesson—failed the test but still managed to come out on top.”

john gave you a wry smile, tipping his hat slightly. “she’s got a bit of her mum in her, too. can’t let go of a good plan once it’s in her head.”

you laughed, brushing your fingers through your daughter’s hair as she leaned her head against john’s shoulder. “you’re lucky she’s such a daddy’s girl, or you’d never live this down.”

“lucky?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “that’s the only reason i get away with anything.”

as the three of you began to roam around the place together, you couldn’t help but think that while the lesson may not have gone as planned, the love and pride in john’s eyes made it a success in its own way.

── .✦ 𝗀𝖺𝗓 ; "𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾, 𝗇𝗎𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌."

you’d been watching kyle for days, curiosity bubbling as he worked away at something with an intensity usually reserved for his missions. he’d commandeered the dining table, surrounded by scraps of paper, a glue stick, markers, and even a small pile of printed photos. every time you asked what he was up to, he’d just give you a sly smile and say, “you’ll see, love.”

now, as he gently guided your little girl to sit cross-legged in front of him on the living room rug, you stood in the doorway, arms crossed with quiet amusement. whatever he’d been crafting so fervently, it was clearly for her.

“right, sweetheart,” your husband began, his voice warm but serious as he produced what could only be described as a makeshift booklet. it was a little wonky at the edges, with a cover decorated in bright colors and a drawing of a smiling stick figure family labeled us.

“what’s that, daddy?” your daughter asked, her big, curious eyes locked on him.

“this,” he said, holding it up with a little flourish, “is something very important. it’s all about what to do if you ever get lost, yeah? or if you ever need help.”

her little face lit up with interest as he opened the first page. inside, in bold, clear letters, he’d written her full name. next to it was a printed photo of her grinning proudly, and underneath, her age in big, colorful numbers.

“first things first,” he said, tapping the page gently. “what’s your full name?”

she hesitated for a moment, then carefully recited it, stumbling just a little on the middle name.

“that’s my girl!” he praised, ruffling her hair. “now, next page.”

he turned it, revealing a neatly written list of phone numbers—yours, his, and one for emergencies—all accompanied by little drawings to make them easier to remember. your number was next to a doodle of a phone with “mummy” written in bold letters, while his had a little stick figure in a cap labeled “daddy.”

“this one’s mine,” he explained, pointing to his number. “can you say it back to me?”

your daughter scrunched her nose in concentration, repeating the numbers slowly and carefully. she got a few digits wrong at first, and kyle’s patience was infinite as he gently corrected her, coaxing her to try again. when she finally got it right, he beamed so brightly you thought his smile might split his face.

“that’s it!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands together softly. “you’re so clever, love. and pretty, too. smart and pretty—how did i get so lucky, eh?”

your daughter giggled, covering her face with her little hands, clearly preening under his praise.

“wait, there’s more,” your husband said, flipping to the next page. it was a hand-drawn map of your neighborhood, with a small printed photo of your house glued to one corner and a bright red “x” marking it. “this is where we live. if anyone ever asks, you tell ‘em, ‘that’s my home.’”

he traced his finger along the path he’d drawn, explaining it step by step as she followed along with wide, fascinated eyes.

stepping closer, you leaned on the edge of the couch, watching them with your heart melting into a puddle. “you’ve really outdone yourself, kyle.”

he glanced up at you, sheepish but clearly proud. “eeah, well, i just wanted to make sure she’s prepared, you know? can’t be too careful these days.”

“and the drawings? the photos?” you teased lightly, gesturing to the colorful booklet.

“thought it’d make it more fun for her,” he admitted with a shrug. “seems to be workin’, yeah?”

your daughter nodded enthusiastically, clutching the booklet like it was her most prized possession. “can we do more, daddy?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“course we can, sweetheart,” he replied, his voice soft as he cupped her round cheeks. “you’re already doin’ so well.” he turned back to you with a grin. “you see that? she’s a little genius.”

you chuckled, sitting down beside them and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “she’s also very lucky to have such a thoughtful dad.”

kyle leaned into your touch, pressing a kiss to your temple before turning back to his daughter. “right, love, let’s go over the numbers one more time. just so you can show mummy how clever you are.”

your daughter giggled, ready for the challenge, while you watched the two of them with a full heart, knowing this was a memory you’d treasure forever.

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