#a meal for me. there’s no warmer feeling in the world

[hai7ani]

a final piece to tachibana / link to previous

Haitani Rindou, Me and My Husband

Haitani Rindou is 28, an ex-felon, and he has no idea what the other guys his age do, other than stare at a wall and wank all day like the idiot from his cell does. He's tried so hard fantasising, and yet he still can't imagine a life of actually having consistent daily, weekly routines. When he's out and he witnesses the rush of modern day Tokyo where everyone's constantly in a hurry to get to somewhere, he can't help but question just where in the world are they going, and what in the hell are they rushing to do. Work? Are they that devoted to their job? Meeting a friend? Are they really that important?

He's spent the last 8 years of his life stirring soup and boiling rice in a kitchen that earns him about ¥500 per month, sweep fallen leaves during autumn while witnessing fights break out between inmates at the yard, and work out in the mini gym of a prison.

Now that he's out and he's staying with you at your place out of your own wallet where you've also bought him a phone with a functioning sim card, some warmer clothes to wear and laze around in, and pay for all the things in the house despite him having a job as well that pays more than what he's used to earn, he feels awfully bad. He stares at the digits in his bank account as he rubs at his nape.

For the first time in his life, Haitani Rindou has no clue what to do with himself.

You work a nice paying job in corporate 一 a result of your endless hard work, a desperate yet successful attempt to break free from your past 一 and at night he refills the vending machines that you and your co-workers empty during the day.

He's aware that the current gap between the two of you is big 一 it's extreme. He hates that he isn't able to provide more for the two of you at home other than doing simple laundry or sweeping the floor while you're away at work. He knows how to cook a little (simple recipes that the inmates eat daily, but he knows you won't like the food, because you weren't an inmate), but not full-on meals that you usually make and leave in the warmer for him when he finally gets home to eat.

He thinks about who he was before his time in prison and he doesn't recognise that boy anymore. An extremely outgoing party boy who rebels, fights and drifts when the sun is down, and an ex-felon who works about 4 hours per night refilling vending machines that people like his past-self vandalise and abuse just for the fun of it 一 those are 2 different people living 2 different lives, from 2 different universes.

Tonight, when the moon is up and he's got you in his arms 一 all warm and tucked in while you snore in his ear 一 he thinks about just what can he do for you to make you happier. He's aware he won't be able to provide much financially 一 not right now at least, and he's not a great communicator as well. He isn't confident he can always get his point across without having it sound like he means an entirely different thing. He has spent more time away from you than with you, after all.

And he hates to say it because he thinks he's in no position to do so, but the two of you are a bit complicated. You're childhood sweethearts who come from the same hometown and grew up together, he's the one who committed a crime, got sent in, and you were left yearning for him on the outside. He's the one who's made love to you before, and it is also his fault that the two of you are like this right now. You're kissy and touchy, he sleeps shirtless and you sleep in just panties, but you don't have a label to your relationship. He doesn't see you as a friend 一 he sees you as his world, but if he were to introduce you to another person, does he call you his friend?

He doesn't know how to make it better, but you always seem to make it feel like everything's alright when you'd knock on the bathroom door and offer to help him shave or give his hair a trim. He thinks the two of you are doing fine, but then his mind shifts to the therapist note you'd obviously accidentally left sitting on the dining table one morning and his heart aches.

You haven't been doing well lately. Recently. Frequently. For many, many years, you haven't been okay. He wonders if you have always smiled this often around other people 一 when he was still in prison, or before you were able to see each other again after years of lost contact 一 because you're always grinning ear to ear when you'd cling onto him in bed or straddle him on the couch while plucking his eyebrows as he hisses in pain.

But when you shift a little in bed and snuggle your nose deeper into his neck and sigh, the tightening in his chest softens a little. Your alarm's going to ring in about 5 minutes and he switches it off before it can. He spends the rest of your time rubbing your back, waking you up gently as he gives you some time to adjust to opening your eyes. He hates that you always seem to jolt awake when the alarm rings, as if it scares you a lot. It's almost the same reaction he's seen in you when you were younger and would hide against a raised fist. He doesn't want you to feel like that anymore. He went away for this exact reason and all he wants to do is to hide you away from fear.

And as you stare up at him, eyes half-lidded and cloudy, it's as if the colour of your irises are hypnotising him with words 一 whispering it in his ear as they ask, "do you still not see it?"

He does. He sees it now.

All the doubts and worries in his head swiftly vanishes and it all makes sense now 一 why you still choose to be with him despite everything that's happened to your lives, why you still seem to care so much for him.

The love in your eyes evident, as you smile softly while the sun slowly rises above the horizon, and he settles.

You love him just as much as he loves you.

All you've ever needed was him. Just him. Your Rindou.

He's got nothing else to worry about now 一 he's got the world in his arms. Even if it'll take him years to adjust to his new life, he'll be doing it with you.

Perhaps today he'll take the time to bake you your all-time favourite chocolate chip muffins 一 he'll run to the store to get the ingredients and maybe pass by the jeweller, browsing.

He wonders if the numbers in his bank account would be enough to buy him a ring, but he'll have to get the size of your finger first, right?

tachibana's tldr (TW!): you and rin were childhood friends, you were abused growing up, rindou killed your abuser and went to jail for it but you never found out until ran told you so you think he's been mia all this while when he's actually in jail

tachibana is officially discontinued, but i didn't want to leave it hanging because i cherish the story a lot (it just wasn't well-planned), so here's a final piece to wrap up the story 🤍

[girlspecimen]

ok now where are the maid-knights who want to lovingly serve

[bennysblabbering]

Bonding with the King

Kinktober: "Double Penetration" || Ryomen Sukuna x reader

contents: heian Sukuna, curseuser!reader, vaginal & anal fingering, vaginal & anal penetration, multiple cocks, large insertion, creampie, excessive cum, slight cum inflation

words: 3k

g/n afab reader

↓ Fic below the cut ↓

The great King of Curses sits atop a lavish and elegant altar, his enormous figure sitting leisurely on one leg and elbow and looking as intimidating as ever. The raised floor was adorned with a soft cotton mat and decorated with a number of gold and red pillows, a scarlet satin sheet lazily draped over his thighs. Upon your entrance into the extravagant room, he beckons you over with one hand, his expression remaining flat. The deep tone of his voice fills the space despite the distance between you.

“Come.”

You nod and bow, slowly making your way to him- the subject of everything you fight for and devote yourself to. You’d never interacted one on one, but you made the choice of your path in life; that being a curse user, making it your life goal to see a world of anarchy ruled by the Disgraced One himself. Standing before him, you choose to look at your feet instead of the man in front of you- testing Ryomen Sukuna was not on your list of things you’d like to try. He huffs, amused at your behavior. Normally, and especially during battle, you were much more assertive and loud-mouthed; the person he saw before him was not the usual one he was used to. 

“Look at me, Y/N.”

Your face raises to observe the face of the monarch. You’d seen your superior many times before, but not this close. He was absolutely breathtaking. Your eyes drink in his appearance; rose-colored locks, four intense ruby eyes, a wide and masculine figure with four muscular arms, and his entire body adorned in intricate black rings and lines that added to his beauty in the way that spices enhance the flavor of a meal. 

The sheet is lifted by a large arm as he smiles, his eyelids lowering flirtily. “Join me.” 

As the lower half of his body is revealed, you take notice of the two distinct bulges protruding from his pants in the spot between his legs. Two…..two.

You gulp and nod, feeling your body weaken at the sight. You were unsure why he’d called for you, but it seemed like he may have had some erotic plans in mind. You hadn’t particularly noticed him taking any interest in you before, but perhaps he had been hiding it well or you had been too oblivious. Or maybe you’re overthinking it.

Sneaking yourself meekly under the blanket, you lay next to him. Your arms and legs tense anxiously as you tenderly place your palms against his chest, almost scared to touch him, as if he were made of eggshells. The warmth radiating off of his body had a simultaneously comforting and arousing affect, making both the inside and outside of your body increase in temperature. His chest was impressive in size, and softer than you’d imagined. You didn’t even realize you’d been squeezing a little until he chuckles. “Enjoying yourself?”

You respond with a soft yelp. His muscles were so plush and warm under your touch, and you can’t believe you let yourself get lost in that feeling. You internally curse at yourself for your lack of awareness as you draw your hands away, clutching them close to your body. “I-I’m sorry, Sukuna-sama. I didn’t realize I’d gotten a bit carried away.” 

“It’s quite alright, Y/N. If I didn’t want you touching me, I wouldn’t have brought you here.” His eyes narrow, looking at you hungrily as two of his hands reach for yours and bring them back to where they used to be. A light blush creeps onto your cheeks as they feel the flesh of the other under their touch once more. 

Now a bit more settled in and comfortable, you sigh and slowly start to release the anxious tension in your body. Being in the presence of a man so much larger, warmer, and stronger  than you was not only oddly comforting, but…it made you crave him. His attention, his touch, his….

Your lower leg brushes against the hard protrusions you’d noticed before, and you quickly remove your limb, mortified, yet incredibly aroused at the sheer size of them. They had to be at least 9 inches if you had to estimate. You hear him hum, and you look back up into his intense eyes as he smirks. 

“I enjoy your company, Y/N. I’ve been wanting to spend more time with you for a while.”

Moving a hand down to your waist, he starts to stroke up and down your body, ghosting over your chest and back down your side, giving your ass a squeeze. “I’m going to be transparent with you, Y/N. I desire you carnally. I’d like to take you right here and now.”

You chew on your bottom lip as your eye contact fails to waver, your heart and body leaping at the thought of being fucked by the king of curses…especially if he really does have two. You nod with a shaky exhale, feeling complete and utter exhilaration. “Y-yes sir. Anything for you.”

The giant man growls in satisfaction, content with your answer. He moves in to place his flushed lips on yours, your faces meeting sensually in a way you’d only ever fantasized about until this moment. His large fingers sneak under your robe, finding their way to your clothed cunt, and you whimper into his mouth as you instinctually buck your hips into his touch. Even his fingers were huge, probably ⅔ of the size of a standard cock; you knew you’d have to start with those and work your way up if you wanted to take him properly. 

You mumble against his lips, your speech coming out shaky and whiny. “W-would you like me to take my clothes off, sir?”

He pulls back just slightly, your faces only millimeters apart as a malicious grin spreads across his face. Your heart skips a beat, a wave of fear and arousal instilled into your core from his intense expression. 

“No need.”

He immediately rolls you onto your back, using the upper two hands to pin your wrists above your head while the lower two effortlessly rip the fabric off of your body. The layers are removed from you without mercy; as to be expected from such a powerful entity, he takes what he wants when he wants it, and will stop at nothing to obtain what he desires. In this case, what he desires is you. 

You gasp as the cool air hits your exposed skin, your entire naked body now presented to the man above you. A low rumble escapes his throat as he shamelessly takes in your figure with his eyes, feeling his cocks twitch at the sight of the subordinate he’s craved for so long finally disrobed before him. The way you were displayed was tantalizing like a well-prepared cut of meat, and he planned to indulge himself just as he would when satiating his gargantuan appetite. 

“My, my, what a sight to behold.” He takes one hand off of one of your wrists, using the other hand to hold them together in one. The fact that both of your wrists could be held together by one huge hand of his made your core clench in excitement. Using his lower two hands, he spreads your thighs apart, the one free hand exploring your body by palming your chest and torso, pinching a nipple and smirking in satisfaction when you yelp. 

Sukuna uses a single fingertip to swipe up and down your folds, humming as he finds how wet you already are so pleasing. You gasp softly at the touch, your back arching off of the mattress from the exhilaration of his touch.

“How eager. Adorable.” 

He strokes your pussy a few more times, gathering slick on his finger before he inserts it into your entrance. You gasp dramatically from the satisfying stretch from his digit and moan as he slides it in all the way to the knuckle. Ever so slowly he slips it in and out of you, twisting his finger just slightly and curling inward on each thrust. You cry out in pleasure as he repeatedly hits that spongy sweet spot, making you dizzy. “Ohhhh my god, Sukuna-sama…you feel so good…”

“Oh, you think that feels good? Just you wait, it’ll only get better from here.”

He pulls his wet finger out of your pussy with a soft ‘pop’, pressing the generously lubricated digit against the hole below while looking up at you to test your reaction. You let out a whimper, nervous at the new sensation- you’d never had anything inside your ass before, and had no clue what it would feel like. You gulp and nod, trusting him with the new experience. 

He starts to push in and it burns, but you can’t deny it feels incredible. It was completely unlike anything you’d experienced before, and it made you all the more excited to feel what would inevitably be coming next. You squeeze your eyes shut and wince, taking in a breath with a hiss as he starts to push deeper, inch by inch, until his entire finger is nestled inside of you. “Fuck…”

He lets out a low chuckle, resting his thick digit for a moment to let your hole accommodate. Letting go of your wrists with his other hand, he drags the fingertips down your torso before rubbing your clit with a thumb and inserting the middle finger into your neglected pussy. Your whole body writhes in pleasure as all of your sensitive spots are being paid attention to by his skillful hands. You squeeze and rub at your own nipples, adding to the stimulation, and your mind starts to slip into an aroused haze as he starts up a quicker pace with both fingers. 

“How do my fingers feel? This is only a fraction of what’s to come. I want to prepare you properly for penetration.”

Your jaw hangs open as whine after whine escapes your throat. Struggling to find words, your response comes out weak and stuttered.

“Feels…so g-good...Su…Suk-kuna-sama. I’m…r-ready…for more…p-please…”

A low groan rumbles from the large man. “I was going to add a second finger to each hole, but since you sound so eager, you’re really making me aroused. And now I can’t wait any longer.” 

He pulls his fingers away and sits back onto his knees, pushing the waistband of his pants down. What’s revealed is exactly what you’d predicted- two absolutely gigantic erections, thicker and longer than any cock you’d ever seen. They each had a ring marking about 4 inches from the base, and were visibly throbbing from his pulse, twitching with each heartbeat. He had one set of balls, though they were just as gigantic in size to match; about as large as one would expect for a body part responsible to create enough testosterone for 3 men.  You want to look him in the eyes to see what his expression looks like, but you can’t pry your gaze away from his perfect and rock hard pair of manhoods. 

Pinning you down by the shoulders this time, he lays on top of you. You didn’t need to look far to see his expression this time- your faces were almost touching, his carmine gaze locking with yours, a pure horniness emanating from the aura. The King of Curses was starving to satiate his cocks, and you were going to be his victim of choice. He presses his lips to yours once again, roughly shoving his tongue into your mouth. You meekly whimper, muffled by the connected orifices, as your faces meet and saliva messily spreads across the bottom half of your face. 

He pulls away from the kiss and sits up slightly to look down and line one cock up with each hole- the top one in your cunt and the bottom one in your ass. With a possessive growl, he holds your hips and pushes in slowly as your eyes widen and jaw opens as far as it can go. In this moment, you could have sworn your eyes would pop out of their sockets. As huge as his cocks looked, they felt even bigger. You were almost literally being split open as both of your holes were stretched further than they ever had been. 

Sukuna gently presses a warm hand to the center of your chest, helping to relax your body and feel more comfortable under his touch. Two other hands massage your shoulders. “Breathe, Y/N. If you tense, it’s only going to hurt more. Undo the tension in your body and the penetration will be much easier.”

You close your eyes and nod, taking a deep breath and trying your best to let go of the tightness in your spine as he slips in a few inches more. The pain of the stretch was starting to subside, turning into pleasure as you let out a soft sigh. He clearly wasn’t as far as he could go yet, but you already were enjoying being fuller than any man had ever made you feel before. 

The huge man leans forward and on top of you- the sheer size of his hips between your legs making them spread wide open; as your bodies become parallel, your ankles are in the air, your body completely helpless underneath the giant. He finally settles in with one last push, now inside you as far as possible. He was at least up to your belly button, if not a bit more. A long, satisfied groan leaves his lips. “Do you feel good being stuffed by my cocks? You like being stretched and filled just right by the one you serve?” 

You can only nod in response- any sense of coherent thought left your body as soon as you felt him inside you. You can still feel his pulse throbbing in his members even when inside you, and the feeling of it makes you whine. Feeling so small underneath him and completely as his mercy felt exhilaratingly thrilling, as if you were his toy made to satiate his needs. 

Growing impatient, he starts to thrust, much quicker than you’d anticipated for him to start at. The unexpected intensity filled you with pure pleasure, rolling your eyes back so far it hurt as you desperately wrap your arms around his neck and claw at his muscular back. In and out his thick cocks mercilessly bullied your insides, claiming you as his own as you could only lay on your back and helplessly take it. 

Tiny, high-pitched whimpers were all your body could manage for vocalizations, feeling such incredible bliss your mind was completely blank. Your pussy had never experienced sex like this before, and your ass had never experienced attention or penetration of any kind previous to this. Your mind and body were lost in the new sensations, completely overtaken by felicity as Sukuna’s lengths pounded into you with a vigor only known to him. 

“You are mine Y/N, understand? From today onward, I will be the only man to bed you. Your holes are for my cocks and my cocks only.”

The large tongue on his abdomen protrudes from its lips, bending downward to flick against your clit as he continues to mercilessly rail into you. You cry out with a loud moan, the obscene sound filling not only the room, but would be sure to pass through the walls and let everyone in the building know what you two were up to. You look down at where your bodies were connected, not only noticing the oral muscle, but your stomach was bulging from the pure size of Sukuna’s cocks. Up and down the flesh of your stomach moved, in tandem with his thrusts. 

“Y…yes, s-sir…o-only….you…”

His stomach tongue presses and flicks against your bud harder, and your climax hits you quickly, crashing over you with a violent wave as your body tenses from the white hot euphoria. Your fingers dig into the skin of his back, which would have drawn blood had it been a normal man you were with. He continues to pound into you, fucking you through your intense orgasm as it overtakes your body. 

As you slowly start to come down, his own hips stutter and he groans, pressing into you as hard as he can as he fills you with his release. His hands grip onto your hips for dear life, his fingers digging into your soft flesh, sure to bruise. The sheer volume of his load is several times that of an average one as he spills his seed into your holes over and over. The hot fluid begins to drip out of you and yet his climax is still going strong, making the bulge in your stomach slightly larger from the voluminous amount of cum. 

“Mine….mine….you’re mine…”

After an unexpectedly long amount of time, he finally comes down from his own high. His hands remain on your hips but release the aggressive claw-like hold as he starts to catch his breath and grins. He slowly pulls his softening cocks out of you, some of his excessive release leaking from your abused holes in a sticky, warm mess as it mixes with your own fluid. 

He moves to lay down next to you, wrapping his arms around you as you can feel your eyelids drooping from exhaustion. He looks down to see your sleepy face, chuckling as he strokes your thigh.

“That was very satisfying, Y/N. I enjoyed that quite a bit. Get as much sleep as you’d like. I will have Uraume fetch you some new clothes and a cup of tea.”

You nod and hum contentedly, snuggling up to his warm chest and sighing. You’d never felt this satisfied before, and you could only think about what it’ll feel like again. Having sex with the man you idolized was going to get used to, but you looked forward to the next time. There was certainly much more with him that you could explore together. 

For now, you would get some much-needed sleep.

[mistymisfit]

How he shows he loves you

Summary: 3 short blurbs on how Jason shows reader he loves them.

warnings: mentions of reader being kidnapped, but descriptions are very vague lol.

wc: 2k

a/n: This isn't edited at all, but it has been sitting on y drafts for wayyyy too long

Jokes

Disappointment is not the initial reaction he hoped for when he came in through your front door. Shock would've been a more appropriate response, since your music was too loud and you didn't hear him come in. He decided to pull a prank and scare you, silently making his way to the kitchen where you were having a karaoke session. Which given how quiet he could be when he wanted to, it was not that hard at all. Now Jason tries to hold back his laugh, a boyish grin plastered across his features that he wouldn't be able to suppress even if he tried.

"What are you making?" He whispers next to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. If he was being honest, he'd say he is concerned about how long it takes you to notice there's someone else in your apartment. But right now, he's too caught up in the bliss of being in your presence that he can't bring himself to care.

"Oh, you're early." You say after the scream you let out when he comes up behind you, seemingly out of nowhere to whisper in your ear.

"Why? You're mad?" He replies, hiding his insecurity behind sass. What if you didn't want him there? What if he's overstayed his welcome? But before he can come up with some convoluted reason for why you don't want him anymore, you're stopping him.

"I just wanted to have this done by the time you got here" You signal back at the food with your head. And he looks over, finally realizing you were cooking his favorite meal.

"What's the special occasion?"

"Nothing," You blush "Can't a girl just cook for her boyfriend?"

"Not unless she wants me to make her my wife," He teases, you roll your eyes, growing accustomed to these types of jokes. Once he reached a certain level of domesticity and was comfortable enough in the relationship, he started to talk about how he was gonna marry you. Jason would even jokingly refer to you as his wife. At first, he made you blush, now it was just the usual routine.

You would lie if you said it didn't excite you and make your feelings all mushy when he did that, your heart felt warmer when he showed how committed he was to you. You felt giddy whenever he said "When we get married", he never said if we get married, he was very certain about wanting to spend the rest of his life with you. Your heart skipped a beat whenever he'd drop a detail of his dream wedding, "We're having a chocolate cake, like the one in Matilda" or "I'm kissing the fuck out of you on that altar". One time he said: "If you liked that, imagine what our honeymoon would be", that one got him a soft slap on his chest as you chuckled.

"How did you get here anyways?" You change the subject, going back to your cooking.

"Used the front door" He answers with a smirk, arms wrapping around your waist as he steps closer to you.

"Really? How?"

"Cause I'm your boyfriend," He replies like it's the most obvious thing in the world. It is, but he didn't need to say it like that. "I have been for a while, and you gave me your keys"

"Damn, my doorman just lets anyone in these days" You joke and you can hear the little "tsk" that comes from his mouth as he lets go of you.

"I can leave and come back from your window" He's kidding, but you know him well enough to know he's willing to follow through just for the sake of doing a bit. Instead, you hold his arm, pulling him back to you in between giggles.

"Please, I finally have boot imprint-free windowsills"

He laughs, it's real laughter, not his usual chuckle. It makes your heart work overtime as you watch his smile reach his eyes so much that he ends up closing them. He pulls you in for a kiss before he lets you go to finish the dinner you worked so hard on. The food that when he takes a bite from has him asking:"You want a summer or spring wedding?"

Touch

Even if he's less inclined to admit this, Jason knew that before you met he was touch starved. And now he can't get enough of it, he's constantly on your side or with his hands on you in any way, shape or form. It came as a shock--to him-- how badly he needed you sometimes, he never felt this about anyone before. He swears he's not usually this clingy.

You are walking down the street and suddenly you're not holding his hand or bicep and he's grabbing your hand and putting it back. He could never be one of those boyfriends who don't notice when their partner stops holding their hand, if you ever so that he's immediately holding your hand again and asking what's wrong.

Sometimes his touch is protective. You are going through a crowded space and he has his hand placed on the small of your back, guiding you and making sure nothing ever happens to you. It turns a little too protective when another guy tries talking to you and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in for a kiss.

But most of the time, he's all alone with you, lying down on bed or a couch, and he's tracing shapes on your uncovered skin. He leans his head closer when you play with his hair or God forbid you touch his face, it has his knees giving out. He loves feeling your weight on top of him, loves feeling you're real and that you're with him and not going anywhere. Maybe he sneaks a hand under your clothes if he feels daring, and your attention doesn't shift. It amazes him how he's allowed this, how much access you give him. And over everything else, it doesn't have to be sexual. Casual skin to skin contact did not have to mean anything else; it was just that.

With you he's experienced that not every touch has violence behind it, not every contact has an ulterior motive. So he's so gentle with you, maybe he is not good with words, so he makes up for it. You know he shows his affection in action rather than words, he's not that far from worshiping the ground you walk on. He's specially kind when you know you're vulnerable; he presses kisses to your face as much as he can and to your shoulder blades when he can't. You know he's a big softy since you've pretended to be asleep multiple times as he played with your hair. An more than once you've heard him whisper hushed love confessions he never thought you'd hear. His hands are rough with criminals but you'd never be able to tell by how kind he's around you.

Priority

Jason wants you to know you can count on him for anything, he makes a point of it by telling you multiple times. You ran out of milk? He's buying it on his way to your place Your apartment needs fixing and your landlord won't help? Problem's solved within the hour. Maybe you got terrible cramps, he's there to help you however you want him to. So it's no surprise to you or anyone that the second you're in danger he drops everything else. You're his number one priority.

"Where is she?" He pushes Bruce for information, which he was adamant in not telling him. Knowing Jason, he'd end up acting before he thinks it through, he'd show up unprepared and end up causing a disaster. Or at least that is what Bruce thinks about the son who plotted his revenge against him for years to the last minute detail.

"Jason" He mutters under his breath.

"I swear to God if I find out someone touched a hair in her head because you wasted time-"

"You go with me or you don't" He threatens "at all."

And Jason loves you so much, he's willing to agree to work with him in a heartbeat. He puts all his resentment aside when he thinks it will help you, if it meant working with the bat and abiding by his rules, then so be it. He'll track down the poor fucker who took you and kill him later. He didn't like being around him, it made him feel tense due to the incredibly strained relationship between the two of them. Bruce loved Jason, but sadly his way of showing it translated quite the opposite way in the younger one's eyes.

Bruce was being too quiet about what happened to you. All he knew was that he couldn't reach you, you were not at any of the usual places, and your friends had no idea where you were either. He checked your apartment and things were perfectly placed, no one had broken in--other than him. Then when he tracked your phone, which he only promised to do in extreme situations like today, he found it inside your purse thrown in some dirty alleyway. That's when his panic hit its peak and turned back to get his red hood gear and ask the bats if they knew anything about you.

He got to a warehouse, standing next to Bruce he decides to push him a bit more to get anything out of him. His mind was killing him with questions, were you okay? what happened? how did he know? and couldn't bear another second next to the stoic figure not willing to tell him anything.

"It's Mad Hatter, he's been taking people off the streets for-"

"Is she okay?" He cuts off, he has no space in his mind for whatever crazy thing he had planned against Batman or the city. Not when he's not sure you're safe, when Bruce won't even tell him if you're alive.

"She should be" He gives in "I'll take care of him, you handle hostages"

That's all he needs, he braces himself before following after Bruce, watching every step he made as it could make the difference between losing you or saving you. Jason's a bit pissed he's relegated to hostages much like he was during his time as Robin but decides against questioning for now. He steps and breathes as quietly as he can while he makes his way past the sign that reads "Wonderland". He silently signals to Bruce that they should split and cover more ground, to which he agreed with a curt nod. His masks allows him to have a better vision in the dark, so he can see how filthy the place was and how worn down the wonderland decorations were. He doesn't know if the man was there, but knowing Bruce he sent him on a path he wasn't likely to find him alone.

He finally finds some of his hostages, two twins laying unconscious on the floor. He tried waking them up to no success; he saw their chests move up and down as they breathed, so he knew he could worry about that later. Moving further, he sees a couple more people, all dressed up as characters like the twins were, in the same state. He then moves to the tea party, where another two kids dressed as the animals in the book sat with their heads on the table. He picks one of them up and rests them in a more comfortable position on the floor using what he could to make a cushion for their head, then does the same with the other kid. He thinks it's the least he could do if he couldn't wake them up. After a nerve-wracking walk through Lewis Caroll's nightmare he finds you, he feels his soul getting back to his body when his eyes finally land on you.

You lay on a floor that resembles a chessboard wearing a white dress and a crown, a little blonde girl with a light blue dress is cuddled up on your arms. He kneels down next to you, whispering your name and grabbing your shoulder to shake you in an almost desperate attempt to wake you.

"Please, please" He's sure if someone could hear how pathetic he sounded, his reputation would be ruined forever.

"Jay?" You manage to mutter under your breath, still not opening your eyes.

"Yes, I'll get you out of here"

"Hm, hats" you hummed, he doubted you were even aware of anything.

"I know, baby"

"off" Your voice was low and it seemed to him that you were fighting to stay awake and losing.

He took off the crown from your head and the headband from "Alice's". Listening to your advice, even if you were barely conscious. Once he confirmed you were okay, he carried you out. Then he came back for the little girl next to you, and so on until everyone was out and hat free. By that time police had arrived, and Batman was handing Jervis' ass to the cops to begin the cycle once more. He holds back, watching from afar to avoid getting caught. He watched as Batman shared a few words with Gordon, then Barbara tuned in to let him know which hospital they were taking you to.

When you wake up he is next to you, holding your hand and with the biggest eye-bags you've ever seen him with. He almost starts crying when you call his name in a hoarse whisper.

"I'm okay,"You whisper, wrapping your arms tightly around him. The scene is too touching as you see someone put a hand on his shoulder and tell him something.

"I'll go tell the doctors you woke up" He excused himself, reluctant even to let go of your hand, much less entertained by the idea of being separated from you too long.

You didn't see him as Jason's frame covered the man behind him but now you notice the one and only Bruce Wayne standing in your hospital room. It was too much to take in.

"Oh, Jason must really love me if he was willing to work with you"

[jolalibrary]

meet me in the city where we won't sleep

javier peña x f!reader | main masterlist

summary: home: a place where we feel most comfortable, loved, and protected — where we most feel at home. except javi, who has returned from colombia and feels his home is living miles away.

childhood besties!javi x f!reader

wordcount: 9k (i'm so sorry)

warnings: childhood best friend!javi. flirting. 18+ - although just a little smutty with fingers. brief mention of drunkenness years ago. emotions (ugh) and feelings (yuk) and idiots who just don't wanna confess things but really should. javi calls you flor and you call him a pineapple. alternating times.

an: originally started for april showers, it's taken me an age to get this done because i wanted it to be perfect. i really hope it is. the biggest thank you to @thetriumphantpanda who read all of this and gave me a gold star. it would have stayed in my drafts if not for you. thank you to @rhoorl for checking my spanish.

It would have been cliche to say he fell for you in a field of bluebonnets—your dress white, face glum, hands ripping up blooms from the soil that you clutched in your hand.

Lost, aimless, both in the blue of the petals and in your thoughts as you continued to yank stems up and bring bunches to your nose, unaware of him watching from the tree. His legs swung, and a smile slid into one cheek as the leaves rustled above in the warm breeze.

It took a while before you noticed him, practically half a field’s worth in your hands, hands wound around them as your dress swished at your ankles.

“What do you want, Piña?”

He supposed, for kids, that was an insult.

“What you doing in my field, Flor?”

Javi didn’t know your name then. Now he struggled to go a minute without thinking it.

Sitting still hadn’t seemed a possibility in the days since he’d been back.

And then, that’s all he’d done for the last eight hours before he was greeted by rain.

It’s relentless, an onslaught that blurs the world into a watery haze. The kind that soaks through every layer of clothing like a challenge; the type that drips from everything, making pools in the streets and turning them into dark mirrors, reflecting the grey and full clouds from above.

Not that Javi cares.

If anything, he likes it. Finds it cleansing, like the world is being washed clean, even if he knows how untrue that actually is as his eyes follow a bead rushes across the glass of the cab.

The driver has been mumbling about the weather for the entire journey—a thing he’s barely listened to since he’d recommended waiting for a break in the weather. It was likely they just didn’t wish to drop him where he’d described, rather hoping Javi would opt for someplace warmer, most likely smokier, so that he could call it a day too.

Javi doesn't do that now—smoking, that is.

Hasn’t done since he left that apartment that never felt like his, in a city that he’d spent years in that never felt like home. Threw them in the trashcan before his Pop had picked him up, craved and wanted all the way through dinner. He’d done it once, he’d do it again.

When the cab screeches to a halt, he pays, steps out (bag in hand) and spots the phone booth all in one fluid motion. It’s barely lit, front weathered by time and neglect. Smirk curling into his cheek as he remembers you telling him about it—that on cloudless days you can see it, likes to make stories about it as you enjoy a meal-for-one or crunches down cereal.

It hadn’t been a thing he’d thought much about.

Then, it was all he had thought about.

Standing there, making a story that could become real. A gesture, kind and deserving of someone who had put up with his shit since they were children. You’d always liked those big moments in the movies—his eyes glancing over at you, finding yours big, wide and shimmering with tears that wish to glide down your cheek.

Although, that had been well over a decade ago—the two of you had remained in touch, close, or as much as he could allow. Your visit to Colombia had still felt like the sunniest day, a bright spot in a sea of dark; a day that coloured his world in shades he hadn’t known existed, that dulled the moment he’d had to bid farewell at the airport.

It hadn’t been safe for you to do another, pleading in fact to not risk it. A thing, he suspects, is not a thing he’s been easily forgiven for.

He supposes it’s why he hasn’t told you he was coming. The flight had been booked, bag packed—fingers tapping, soul hoping you wouldn’t turn him away once he’d gotten here. To the phone box over the bridge from your place—the one obscured from view by the downpour that seemed never-ending.

Because, as soon as two weeks had racked up at him being home, he found himself itching to move, to be somewhere other than surrounded by fields and the watchful stare of his Pop. Parental worry a hard thing to hide from in a home washed in memories.

Sliding open the door, cramming himself into the booth, Javi had no concern about remembering your number. It was burned into him, etched into him with a blunt tool—almost studied, committed to memory while he ticked over godfathers and the weight of right and wrong.

He remembers when you’d changed it, when your voice informed him of the move, the chance—all excited tone, a pitch closer to a squeak than your voice: no more roommates, just me, myself and I.

He also remembers the ember inside of him pleased that Tom joined the underserving list, slid under Mia and Rich as you informed him you were single again.

Sliding quarters in, finger punching the numbers—he hopes you’re home. A niggling feeling threatens to unwind inside of him as the tone drills into his skull—attempts to drown out the rain rapping against the glass booth he’s standing in.

“Hello?”

“Flor?”

It kisses his ear, your snort. Light. Sweet. “Javier Piña, what do you want?”

You sound like you did in Colombia. Having half-expected the crackle meeting his ear to be down to the distance, rather than your shoddy home phone.

Pressing the receiver to his head, a smile there—desperate to flow out across his lips and exhausted face, he moves it back. “Tal vez te extrañé.”

“Mierda. I don’t believe you.”

Even amidst the noise of passing cars and the relentless drumming of raindrops, he catches the melody of your laughter—a symphony of joy that unravels a part of his soul. It releases it, unlocks it, beckons it to be free—metaphorically makes him release his shoulders, and take a breath. The part of him hidden away, floods back through him—no longer fearful of being taken, clawed or wormed from him as he handed other parts of himself to the job, the task, the goal.

Not you, though. Javi would never surrender you.

A pocket of sunshine he’d kept close to him like your chicken-scratch letters and your tipsy phone calls when he’d caught you coming in after a night with friends.

“Where are you, Piña?”

Wiping his mouth with his thumb, he pauses. Traces his index along the hair growing above his lip, glancing out through the rain-smeared glass, the one cracked in places. Not sure if any of the lights on the other side are hers, but lingering on each just in case.

“In a phone booth on a bridge…”

He hears you swallow, loud, almost difficult.

“…right across from your place.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Smirking, teeth nibbling at his bottom lip. “Are you lying to me?”

Smirking, he stares out again. “No.”

Because he couldn’t, not if he tried. Not just because you see through it, but because it wounds him to do so. Picks at him, and makes him bleed in ways that don’t ruin him in scarlet.

“Give me five minutes.”

The call ends before he can get in a bye.

The receiver placed back, bag straps cutting into his palms again as he exits, the heavens lashing against him as he slowly walks. Taking his time. Nervousness bubbling like a broth inside of him with each step, coming up to the top curve of the bridge, trying to look up, spot you—

Then he does.

Running, coat billowing behind—flapping in the wind as it breaks out over your face: that smile. The one that lit fires inside of him, the one first doing so at the time his bedroom at home had its last lick of paint, it now peeling, cracked.

Dropping his bag, Javi isn’t sure whether to brace or not—taking three more steps forward before you collide with him. Arms around him, chest to chest, your wet cheek sliding past his as your soaked clothes marry to his.

It would be odd to say it felt like home hugging you, but it does. It feels right, safe—a piece completing him as he digs his chin into your head.

“You smell the same,” you muffle into his chest.

Javi smiles, knowing the bottle on his dresser is the one from his younger years. Sun-ruined and likely faded, yet managing to linger on his skin enough to cause recollection.

Pushing past lilies, excusing himself through swarms of bodies adorned in black fabric, Javi found you sitting cross-legged between two tall stands of flowers.

Your eyes were puffy—red, swollen—and your dress was as black as his suit; your fingers were balled around a single lily and a scrunched-up tissue, the skirt of your dress skated over your bent knees.

“What d-do you want, Piña?”

But it didn’t land with the tone he had come to know.

Instead, he extended a hand you thankfully took, pulling you up from the ground before he opened his arms—letting you move in, slot yourself between them as they enveloped you close.

Letting his best friend fall apart at the back of the church, your sobs vibrated against his bones and his chin rested on your head as he whispered he had you, over and over again.

A thing you repaid when his mother passed a few years later.

Talking had always been a skill—unless he had to discuss feelings.

It wasn’t that it was easy to lie, or that he found the idea of feeling difficult—if anything, it was as though he felt too much. Guilt. Affection. Righteousness. Protection. Each one a little harder to carry, to wear.

More so around you. The walls had to be tighter, or they’d crumble into ruin, the dust spilling all his secrets before he’d confess whatever wasn’t already written over his face. But, you don’t needle him—instead, you make him a plate from leftovers, tell him about some gossip your mom had informed you of, until you offer him your shower, your sofa and bid him goodnight.

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

“Not going anywhere.”

Lingering in the doorway to your bedroom, fingers playing the piano on the wood. “You’ve said that before.”

He knows he has.

It rises up in him like a storm, whipping around his organs, making his chest tighten as he lies down in comfort but stares up at the unfamiliar. He can hear the rain, how it pitters and patters—how it likely streams down the windows behind your curtains.

He should find it odd that he'd rather fall asleep here, than in his bed back where he grew up. A strange solace in the unknown here, a quiet surrender to the whispers he usually has to hear when the night comes.

But, they're not here.

At some stage, he must sleep, before he wakes to the scent of coffee and soft sunshine. His ears catch the sound of you calling in sick—a cough, a put-on voice, one all removed when you throw a throw cushion at him and ask him what he wants for breakfast.

That’s how he finds his knee kissing yours under the small table as your spoon scoops cereal before letting it drop back into the bowl. Just like when you were kids. Just like when you were all excitable, too in a rush to sit for a moment, stomach likely fluttering with agitation.

“You keep staring.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Flor.”

The thing is, you’re not wrong.

Each time he has a second, he lingers—gazes. Metaphorically pinching himself as he forgoes digging a nail into his skin under the cuff of his shirt, just to make sure he isn’t dreaming. A thing he finds he’s doing now, after a night of laughing until you couldn’t keep your eyes open and a full day of exploring, you walk a little ahead before spinning on your heel to smile at him.

“I have to show you my favourite place—before you go.”

He hates that there’s an end date on this. Bought himself a few days of normal, before returning to something that feels anything but.

Scratching his jaw, brows raised and eyes wide. “You’ve replaced our spot?”

Rolling your eyes, you take his hand—fingers slotting, palm pressing against his. For a moment, a reflex, he thinks of pulling away. Thinking of what else sat as perfectly in his palm as you—a thing that took, but never gave. A thing that he held more than he had ever held a woman.

“My favourite place here.”

He expects a lot of things, maybe flowers, maybe a bar, but he finds himself inside a bookshop. One with floor-to-ceiling shelves, dark wood, the large window letting in light that barely reaches the back. He supposes it’s good they have a chandelier, one that sparkles, shines—like it’s as well maintained as the shelves.

“Books?”

“Books.”

Your finger prodding into him, facing him, body fully twisted. That smile there, the one which slides into one of your cheeks and makes his eyes flick from it to your eyes and then back.

It’s there when you turn on your heel down an aisle, it remaining when he follows—when he hovers close, so easily able to pin you, cage you in between his palms.

“Which do you recommend?”

Shooting him a look, you trail your finger over spines, over the shelf they sit on. “Didn't know you could read?”

“Funny.”

Grinning, you pull on one, handing it to him. His eyes take it in, the cover, the name, the author.

“I think you’ll like the characters,” you explain, eyes lighting up as you lean. “They're flawed but resilient.”

Chewing his cheek, he swallows. Listening, hearing you read the blurb after you lift the book in his hands so you can read it, word for word as he focuses on you. Noticing the way your eyes shine when talking about something you love, the way one of your hands begins to move as you describe the plot, and the characters. Realising, that he could listen to you talk about anything all day.

“You should read it,” you suggest, as he flips through the pages. Having never been much of a reader, time being a factor, his job has been the reason.

“Alright,” he nods, tucking the book under his arm. “I'll read it.”

Your smile brightens even more if that's possible.

“Chucho is gonna be so shocked when I tell him you bought a book.”

Frowning, he follows you, leading him down another aisle. “You talk to my pop?”

Shrugging, like it’s nothing. Like the words that are about to tumble out of your mouth don’t matter like they won’t stitch themselves to him and make him feel like pulling you to his chest.

“I check in—make sure he’s okay. Done it weekly since you left the first time.”

His face falls, descends slowly. He feels it—watches you take it in as yours slowly mirrors him. And, even if he’s been thinking it, it bubbling at the back of his throat, he finds himself unable to stuff it back down—to shove it between other regrets and unsaid words.

“I’ve really missed you.”

Each word lands, your eyes widening as your nose does a little twitch as they do, before you whisper, resting against the edge of a bookcase, “I’ve missed you too.”

Sat on the rock, the sound of a car door slamming disturbed the peace. Not needing to look, knowing that gait, that little kick of the ground as you stopped in front of him.

Hand shielding your eyes from the sun, flower tucked behind your ear.

“Hello, Flor.”

“Piña. Heard you were cursing Laredo.”

Smirking, you sat next to him, nudging him over. The two perched on a rock overlooking part of the city—as his head turned but his eyes stared at you from the corner of them.

“I give it a month and someone else will do something bad enough that people cross the street.”

Swallowing, he exhaled. “Thanks.”

“Did you love her?”

Turning his head, staring at you—eyes flicking from yours to a place on your face he shouldn’t look. “Not enough to marry her.”

“Then you did the right thing.”

A thing he only believed when your hand slid over his, hooking your little finger over his.

“It’s because you’re in love with me, isn’t it?”

Snorting, head shaking, your words washed back over him and he broke into a laugh. “Shut up, Flor.”

Nudging him, taking the flower from your hair and handing it to him. “It’s okay if you do, I know I’m a catch.”

He's embarrassed that it isn't until the second day that Javi finds the chance to really admire your place.

How it’s exactly what he imagined. So very you, all cosy, muted, with spots of colour. Plants and throw cushions, blankets and wicker baskets stuffed with things he suspects you have no recollection of.

What catches his eyes are the photographs, the memories frozen in time around your walls and on shelves. His eyes sweep over them, in a trance still from the scent of your perfume mixing with vanilla from a lit candle.

Each time he sweeps his sight over, he spots new things, remembering brief conversations, smirking to himself until his eyes land on a frame that makes his mouth part and his heart clench.

Him and you; you and him. Sunglasses far too big for your face, staring up at him as he beams at the camera. The backdrop of his ranch, his home, the one he so often left behind like it hadn’t mattered.

Done it weekly since you left the first time.

The words roll around his head now. All metal and round, bouncing against other thoughts, trying to dig his heels into the present and not wonder about what kind of calls you make—whether they’d be about him, whether you’d confess things you’d never admit to him.

Your clanging around is what pulls him to the present. The bangs of cupboards and pans clattering as he stares at it—as he notices how different his build is, how many years have passed. The occasional cursing from you is a rather nice anchor that keeps him in the present.

“Flor?” He waits until he hears you hum. “Order in again, I’ll pay.”

It’s here within the hour.

A favourite, you had told him. A quick apology that you’ll be messier than last night, that you’re dying of hunger. He reminds you he doesn’t care. Not as you slide the triangle slice out, the tip kissing your chin before it’s absorbed by your mouth, sauce lingering on your lips—dust from the crust resting on your nose.

He’s not sure what’s better, the taste of the pizza or the sight of watching you. Having the chance to watch you.

“So I have to ask.”

Grumbling, he pulls at the topping on his slice. “Here we fucking go.”

“Did you like the tie I sent you?”

Half-scowling, swallowing the mouthful of pizza—recalling the box on his desk, atop files and paperwork with a note attached: One down, three to go. Written in that same handwriting he could spot in a lineup—the one he had wished there and then would be etched into him, a mark left, a thing he could brush his thumb over when his heart ached and he felt lost.

“I was disappointed not to see you photographed in it.”

“You knew damn well I wasn’t going to wear a fucking pineapple tie to a press conference.”

Pouting, you smirk. Picking at another slice, staring up at him from the floor, all cross-legged. “Thought you might have for me.”

It’s there, ebbing—words that feel far more intimate than they should—crystallising, burning upon his tongue.

I’d do anything for you.

It’s there, unwritten, pulsating and breathing in the space between you and him, existing, never diminished. Memories where it’s been all but similar rising like lava, singeing him, threatening to burn away the walls he throws up for the sake of friendship.

Because he knows what people think. Saw it hung in his pop’s eyes at his Tia’s wedding when you came as a guest, an uninvited plus one that was welcomed like you were already part of the family. Heard it, in the wind between the grass before he’d left the first time, a farewell outdoor thing, your parents crestfallen, as though they’d assumed—like he imagined a lot of them—the two of you would have figured it out by now.

Watching you stand, hand outstretched for his plate, you take it with a smile. A shout of two options for drinks, an unsurprising one chosen by him—it bubbling in the glass when you hand it to him, settling in beside him.

“Not sure I told you, but you have a nice couch.”

“Most expensive thing in this place—probably better than my own bed,” you smirk, sipping your drink. Head rolling towards him, brows raised, eyes that bit wider. “So, are you okay?”

You’re the only one who could ask and get a reply, he supposes. Those same words were said to him a handful of times, down the phone from Murphy, over the table from Pop, even on aisles of the supermarket when he’d been staring between brands he hadn’t heard of.

“I gave you a day to tell me, and since you won’t, I’m gonna ask. Are you okay, Javier Peña?” you continue, body shifting, thigh pressing against his—heat radiating from between yours to his. “Because you’re methodical. You’re not… get on a plane and fly to a different city just because.”

“You not happy I’m here?”

Grinning, all teeth—it reaching and hanging in your eyes. “Los más felices. But, are you?”

Yes. It’s all he thinks.

Chewing his tongue, his eyes drop to his soda because he’s unsure how to say that. Not as he watches the bubbles float up and burst—the song that had been playing coming to a stop, allowing the rain to play an interval against your windows.

It doesn’t make sense, in some ways: how he’s kept you—been able to keep you close. Somehow not ruined you, twisted this thing between the two of you, made it rot, sullied it with disappointment and selfishness.

“I am now,” he replies.

Good, you breathe. Letting it sit, simmer. Paper over any cracks as your eyes sparkle and remain fixed on him, tracing him as though not completely sure he’s real.

That is, until you grab the remote, excitedly telling him about the night of television they have ahead of them. A blanket, at some stage, finds itself over him, you nestling into his side—like when they were teens before the world became a problem and narcos were all he hunted.

For a while, you catch him up, explain plots and characters. Then, you fall silent, brows crinkled in concentration. His eyes slide to the side to watch, to spot the little things you do as she settles in closer, brings your legs up, and rests almost all of yourself against him.

Between one show and another, he feels the rhythm of your breathing change, your body relaxing further against him. He glances down and finds your eyes closed, features soft and serene in sleep. Realisation dawns on him—you’ve fallen asleep. His heart does a slow tumble in his chest, a wave of warmth spreading through him. All of a sudden aware of the gentle weight of you against his side, the way your hand is loosely holding onto him. He watches, just for a moment, taking in the sight of you, so peaceful and trusting in your sleep. This moment is so intimate, so precious, he wants to freeze it in time.

What else is a guy like you gonna do…

This, he thinks. Looking at you, asleep, peaceful—curled into his side, fingers around his forearm.

Smiling, he takes the remote from your fingers, turning the volume down as he gets more comfortable—pressing a soft kiss to your hairline.

He carried a single red rose down the side of your house—nudging open the window the rest of the way, climbing in like he had done years ago.

He didn’t need eyes, didn’t fancy having to explain to his parents how he could do that to that nice girl and her family. Javi had faced enough judgement, enough stares.

The only eyes he wanted were staring at him, remaining so as he stepped close and handed you the flower with the thorns picked free. “Come with me.”

Sighing, eyes averting, you swallowed loudly in the thick quietness. “You don’t want that. Your best friend following you.”

Eyes flicking up to meet his, you took another deep breath. Fingers flexed at your side, weight shifting from one foot to the other before you exhaled—louder than before.

“I don’t want to follow you, best friend.”

Then don’t be just that, he thought, thumb swiping over the tips of his fingers as he hovered, waited. Then he took a step closer, and another. The gap closed, becoming shorter and shorter—

“What are you doing, Piña?”

“Kissing you.”

Lips pursing, trying not to smirk, you took the rose and put it on your dresser. “Don’t feel your lips on mine, Javier.”

And then he kissed you, his fingers clutching at your jaw—body pressed against yours, tasting your whine, your moan.

He felt your fingers clutch at his shirt as he told you to be quiet.

Laid you on your bed of flowers, knees digging into stitched roses and sunflowers, as you arched off the bed when his fingers slid between your thighs—like he wished he’d done a handful of times before now.

He’s not sure of the time when he wakes, but it’s dark.

A contentedness in his bones that doesn’t fade as he begins to blink, as he takes in his surroundings and remembers where he is. Feeling you, warm, pressed as close against him as humanly possible. Able to see the outline of you, before his eyes manage to paint the rest, how his knee has slotted between your legs—bodies a mess of limbs that takes him back to years ago.

Javi notices how the television is switched off as you try to move, to wiggle and escape. His shirt discarded, the cool air misting over him, pebbling his skin as he slides his arm around you, pinning you tighter to him.

Brain all addled with dreams and sleep, as his awakening state tries to remind him what he’s doing.

What door he’s trying to open all over again.

“Javi…”

Not Piña, Peña or Javier. Javi, all soft and whispery, like honey dripping into his ear as he turns his head to find your stare in the dark. Somehow finding it shimmering, fixed, more than awake.

Then you whisper his name again, and it’s heavenly, a piece of it anyway. A sound he realises he’s missed more than he cares to find words to describe as he hears you push out a breath—fingers finding his arm, stroking, sliding their warmth up and down the muscle of his arm as he swallows.

It’s slow, hand cupping your cheek as he shifts his body, and finds yours moves with him. The beginning of a partner dance, one it feels you’ve both practised in small spaces but never actually have as he slides his lips over yours. Moulds them to yours. Tasting faint mint on your tongue when you deepen it—when you pay attention, listen, taking each cue you give him from the movement of your mouth to the way your hands grasp at him to come closer.

A whimper tries to break through, to escape through messy kisses and tangled bodies, but it vibrates through him. Makes him shudder with how much he wants you, moving your knee, hooking it over his hip as he slots his waist between your thighs and you gasp at the feel of him flush against you.

Practically whine.

Nose brushing your cheek, palm flat, fingers spreading out over your hip as he feels you roll your body into him, he smiles—breathy, teeth nipping at his bottom lip. “Forgot how soft you are.”

You hum, head-turning, mouth latching itself back to his.

“Forgot how good of a kisser you are.”

Snorting, he lightly bites your lower lip. “Best remind you then.”

“Best do,” you whisper, pulling him by his hair back to your mouth.

You write a poem against his lips, signing it with your tongue against his as his fingers snake under the band of your sleep shorts, tasting your moan, your hiss and whimper when he touches you like he’s wanted to since he landed back in the States.

When two fingers slide slowly inside of you, curling, the sound of his name is like a fucking sin he wants to be draped in, wrapped in, even dressed in. Him seeking, searching, finding that spot that has your legs opening for him, nails scraping against his scalp.

“More, Javi. Please—”

“You’re so tight, Flor,” he croons, burying the words in your neck, the tip of his tongue swiping over your collarbone as you grab a handful of his hair. “Feel so good around my fingers.”

Your hips writhe, roll them against his hand, gasping. Making a mess, dripping, practically gushing over his hand, as he fights pulling his hand free and getting a taste.

“Be better—dios mio—around your cock—”

Smirking, teeth nipping at your neck, “I remember.”

Head lifting, thankful the night sky is clear, that the moon is draping you in a slither of milky light so he’s able to see your eyes flutter shut. Able to witness what his fingers do to you, the effects of their teasing and the languid movements as he finds that angle, the one which makes you grind against his palm, and has your chest heaving.

He moans your name against your tongue, drinking down a blend of pleases falling from your swollen lips as he plunges deeper, walls squeezing him.

There he thinks, lips pressing kisses to your shoulder, as you dig your nails further into his scalp, tensing, bearing down on him to the point he hopes you’ll leave a mark, leave a cut, a signature of this moment he can run his fingers over.

“Kiss me,” you gasp, all wrapped in desperation as you pull at his shoulder.

His mouth only just pressing to yours when your cry buries against his tongue, when you flutter and arch as he continues to work you through it. His name breaks through messy kisses, it escaping effortlessly like it doesn’t wish to be buried anymore.

You don’t let him pull away, hooking one leg around him. Watching, not able to take your eyes from him as he retracts his hand—as he licks your pleasure from his fingers and you stare with a twinkle in your eye.

“You best fuck me now.”

Smirking, a low laugh escaping. “Yeah? Want me that bad, Flor?”

Lifting onto your elbows, he waits for a taunt, a tease—something that’ll bring him down a peg or two. What he finds, instead, is your fingers slowly crawling up his bare chest, around his neck, your chin tilted up.

“I need you, Javi. Need you to fuck me.”

“Yeah?”

“And then I wanna get on top,” you whisper, dragging each syllable out, “and fuck you until the sun comes up.”

“Murphy is a nice guy.”

Eyes narrowing, he shot you a glare—watching as you shimmied your jacket from your shoulders. Bare arms, bare legs—except for the thin tank and shorts adorning your body—that had him thinking un-best friend things.

“You jealous, Piña?”

“Of a married guy? Fuck no.”

Grinning, you moved closer—boxing him in. Staring into his eyes, in a way that made him feel like he was being seen, read, and admired all at once. “Is that because you left a bite mark on my hip?”

Tracing his fingers along your neck, he felt himself smile. That flutter in his chest again, the one which had appeared one day when the two of you were teens and hadn’t gone away since.

“Ask me to stay,” you whispered, hands on either side of him—all boxed in. “Ask me, Javi.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he raised a hand, knuckles brushing over your cheek. Wanting nothing more. A week gone too quickly. Already feeling the pressure slip back over his muscles, seeping into his bones. But he knew. He pictured it, the things he had nightmares over—even when you were far away, never mind when you were asleep in the room next to his.

“Too dangerous.”

“That it? I can learn—”

“No.”

“No?”

He stared. Thought of the things he had done. The people he had already let down. The things he had let happen to people who deserved far better. It layering, and layering, and layering and—

Nodding, disappointment spread, before it was washed over in acceptance. “What’re we eating?”

When he wakes, he expects to find you dressed in corporate and apologising in a voice that’s accompanied by a pout at the foot of your bed. The place the two of you found yourself on at 4 am.

Instead, you fake another performance. Earn an Oscar over the phone before switching to the excitable one you present to him when you sit at the foot of the bed.

There’s something there. It hangs in your eyes. A secret, a thing shifted and dislodged now your mask has slipped from the few hours of sleep and the ruining of your sheets.

But he doesn’t ask, because if he does, he fears he’d tell you things in return. Alter the way you see him. Change it, taint it. Practically ruin the man you think he went to be and the one he's returned as.

It'll hurt him if you look at him with disgust. You’ve burnt him after all, left him winded, air knocked from his lungs each time he’s laughed. All but imprinted into his mind, a thing never filed but rather pinned up and forever there, like artwork on a fridge.

“Wanna get a coffee?”

Hands pulling on a pair of jeans, buttoning them as he sees the peaks of your nipples through your white tee. And he knows your face is bare and you're dressed in clothes you just pulled out without thought—yet, you are, as always, the prettiest damn thing he’s ever seen.

A thing he thinks when he showers.

When he smiles as he scrubs the shampoo into his hair, feels the soreness at parts from where your nails had dug in. He doesn't stop beaming when he smears his palm across the glass, takes in his appearance as you open the door, a towel hung low on his hips, eyes dropping down.

“Now who's staring, hermosa.”

“Don’t be a work of art to be admired then.”

He dresses in record time, your hand swinging beside his, so within reach, so easy to grab. But he doesn’t.

None of last night mentioned, even if he knows he’s left bruises on your inner thighs from keeping them apart; even if you've left scratch marks on his shoulders from when you sunk down on him, head thrown back, jaw elongated as he rolled your nipples between his fingers.

Javi doesn't even mention it when he hears you gasp at the taste of your coffee, a noise similar to when he'd licked a stripe up your pussy, when he tasted both you and him.

It was just like in Colombia.

A thing buried, hidden underneath other topics the two of you don’t discuss. Dead parents and a town you both ran from. A thing he almost wants to change, correct, but then you stop outside a flower shop.

The sign battered, peeling. Hidden between two nicer shops, yet the scent made his nose twitch.

“You should buy me flowers.”

“Should I?”

Smirking, teeth biting your lip. “Por lo de anoche.”

Head shaking, he finds himself following anyway. Unable to stop his eyes from falling to the back pocket you shove your phone in, hand reaching, palm pressing to the globe of your ass as he hears the muffled sound of a giggle—

“Piña.”

“Flor,” he whispers, practically breathes it against your neck.

The bubble expands, knowing at some point it’ll pop. Too happy, he thinks. Too settled for a man who has a solo flight back. It’s why he drops his hand, lets you move further in, watching as you scan over already-made bouquets for one he knows you won’t find.

Because they don’t know you. Not like him. There’s not years between you and this shop—this place.

His fingers lightly roll over a stem, staring at the flower, before he has pulled it free from the bucket, and then another, and then another. Not at all a florist—or someone artistic enough to make a bunch—but a person who at least knows you. Knows that in each of the pre-made bundles there’s a flower you dislike, one that’ll remind you of something, someone.

“Here.”

You blink, eyes widening as they move from the bunch in his hand to his face. “Javi…”

“There your—”

“Favourites,” you finish, eye narrowing, lips still parted. “You remembered all my favourites?”

Shrugging, aware of how close he is to real—to something that could shatter, break. A thing he’ll do, just give it time. Feeling it wrap its tendrils around his chest, around his heart, squeezing and squeezing until your hand slips in his. Palm to palm, fingers finding their way between his slowly, cautiously, your eyes not leaving his face as you do.

“Didn’t know my pussy was good enough for flowers, Piña,” you comment, voice low, a smirk there.

“You deserve more than flowers.”

“I’m that good?”

Shaking his head, hand still in yours, he presses a kiss to your forehead, swallowing. “Siempre has sido.”

“Hello?”

He heard the hiccup, the slur of his name as he smirked against the phone—finger and thumb massaging his forehead as he heard you hiccup again. “Flor?”

“Piña, did you know that I miss you?”

Adjusting the tie around his neck, staring down at the pineapples—the box open, atop a bunch of files, in the office he should have been thankful for. “You sound like you’ve had a good night.”

You howled, the laugh all high-pitched. “Maybe I have—maybe I haven’t. What I do know is that I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“No. I love you.”

Smirking, thumb tracing an outline of one of the pineapples. “You’re drunk.”

“Still love you.”

Swallowing, he let out a heavy exhale.

“You doing okay, mi Piña?”

He wasn’t sure how to answer, how to respond. Head tilting back in his office chair, the ice melted in his whiskey and the hour so late he wondered why you were still up as you extended his nickname out into as many syllables as you could.

“I am now—okay, I mean.”

It needs to be left alone.

He knows it. Reminds himself of it when it rears its head at every second he doesn't. Because, it doesn't need to be needled, or picked at until it bled.

But, Javi picks at it all the same when you avoid his question again.

His hand slides over his face, index finger tracing a line down his nose as he waits until your laugh fades. Your fork twists the spaghetti round and round, and when it falls, it simply lands on the table between the two of you—the air tinged with the scent of dinner and the flowers from the shop.

“When were you going to tell me you hate your job?”

Your smile shrinks, like the sunlight being muted by the night. Spine straightening, chin lifting. The walls coming down both literally and figuratively, seeing you prepare for war when he’s army-less and unafraid.

“Si significo algo para ti, no lo hagas.”

He snorts, resting on his arm, letting the sheets fall to his waist. Because of course, he cares, and of course, he wants to do this. Balling up the hand beside his hip, seeing the murkiness in your eyes, the joy snuffed out and hidden, as though the hatchets were coming down to protect against his storm.

Javi says your name, softly, honeyed—delicately drip-feeding the air each letter until it’s out there existing.

One by one, it happens. Your eyes avert, chin dipping down; your tongue drags across the front of your teeth and then your arms fold. “I hate my job. Happy? I wanted it so bad—and now I have it, I hate it. I hate going in, I hate doing it. I can’t tell anyone that because it’s all I wanted.”

“It’s okay.”

Snorting, fake smile sketching across your face as your eyes harden to the point they’re brittle. “It isn’t. I left. I turned my back and got as far out of there as I could, and now I’m stuck.”

It breaks him a little.

Seeing it then, the many shards inside of you that you’re trying to keep whole. The pieces that are so worn and tired from doing their best to fit, but struggling to do so.

It’s why he protests that you’re not. He tries to rationalise and says the same words he knows you’d say to him if he called—if he had told you the truth about everything when he was over there. He tries to add kindness to his words as you continue to stare at him like you wish your bed would swallow him whole.

“—You’re saying this like I didn’t say the same thing to you, and you went and did another five years.”

“That’s different.”

“Why?” you spit, standing now, finger pointing and nose flared. “Because your job means more?—”

“No, because I’m a fucking idiot, Flor. You’re not.”

You mutter under your breath, curse him—a blend of poisonous Spanglish that has the heel of his palm pressing against his forehead.

Because it’s like last time.

The words surge up inside of him—except you’re both older now, both carrying more pain and hurt from a world that continues to pile on when bones are already struggling. Walls threw up, keeping him out in all the same ways—except now his mess is also between your thighs, and you aren’t half as good at hiding how his words hurt you.

“Come home with me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.”

Folding your arms, your head shaking. “I can stick it out—work my way up, it’ll get better—”

“You know it won’t. Know how well that went for me.”

Then you scoff. It blended with razors and sharpened to injure. “No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk about what happened.”

“You read about it.”

“But that’s not your story, Javi. That’s theirs.”

For a moment, he sees it. How hollow you look, how weak, sad and broken. So he repeats it, the request, the offer. Come home with me. But the door shuts, locks, a bolt thrown over.

And everything, all of it, splinters; it doing so before your mouth even opens and he sees what his request has done.

“I’m not coming home just because you’ve decided you want to play happy fucking families, Peña. The world doesn’t stop turning just because you’ve decided to run away, and it doesn’t begin turning again because you’ve come home and decided what you want.”

“That isn’t—”

“You left. You left me.”

“—Flor—”

“—and I asked you to let me stay—when I knew you were hurting. I asked and you said no—”

He whispers your name, broken—like it shatters the moment it greets the air.

“—I wasn’t good enough then. So why am I now?”

Shaking his head, legs flung from under your sheets, he stands—aware he’s half-naked, aware this isn’t the time as you step back.

You shake your head, tears dangling, resistant to fall. “I bet you’re not even staying.”

“I am—”

Head tilting, a crystal tear falling down your cheek, you scoff. Loud. Brutal. “Have you even unpacked? Or did you just get on a plane here?”

Swallowing, Javi rolls his jaw. Fingers flexing at his side, staring, urging himself to find words as his tongue thickens in his mouth. Because he’s staying, he’s staying, he’s staying—

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Flor—”

“Save it.”

The door of your bedroom slamming behind you is the final sound that echoes out between you both.

It was different.

Hearing you cry down the phone—than when the two of you were younger.

When your first love broke your heart and he lay beside you on sheets covered in stitched flowers. Your head turned to him, the bedroom door open, as you teased your lip between your teeth. The tears had dried, but the rest had still been there, written in markers across your face as you sighed, staring, waiting for him to answer. “What do you want, Piña?” you’d asked, and he’d swallowed that he wanted to punch them.

Now, though, there were miles between the two of you. Distance far more than there had ever been—cities, a whole country.

“I’ll be home soon—can visit you.”

He heard you laugh, it hanging, echoing. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I mean it.”

“You mean a lot of things, Javi.”

“Flor—”

“I wish you'd never kissed me.”

It's a whisper, the way he said your name. It cracked, snapping as it left his tongue.

“I should go shower, early morning and all that.”

He asked you to stay and he heard you sigh.

“What do you want, Piña?”

Swallowing, Javi tapped his fist on the desk—tiredness having crept over him, the last ditch at doing right in Colombia suspended over him. Tell me I’m doing good, that it's worth losing you, Flor. “Have a good day, Flor.”

It’s weeks.

Eight weeks and four days to be exact.

At some point, it becomes less of a want to get in touch and more of a need not to. Your number is always there on his fingers, but his digits never dialling it when his Pop nips out to go to the store, and he’s left alone with his thoughts and memories in a house stuffed full of them.

Javi doesn’t expect anything else.

Having woke that next morning to find a note attached to the book he had bought: Had to go to work. Have a safe flight. Speak soon—a thing he both hoped and prayed for, even as he nursed a drink on the short flight and chain-smoked at the airport before he did the drive home.

Home.

A thing it felt even less of when he arrived this final time. Pulling his truck into its place, dust swirled and kicked up around him. Staring at the house that hasn’t changed much, just the paint thinning, the sun-dyeing it.

Each day that ticks by, he thinks of you. Each week that’s collected, he fights with himself when he’s sat alone at the dining table about flying back out and apologising.

Because he knows what he did.

Did the same thing back then—assumed and foolishly acted as though your wants never mattered. But they do matter. A thing he rehearses in his head when he’s feeding the animals; a thing he runs over when he’s repairing a door here or a fence there.

One week adds up, then another, and another.

If his Pop thinks things, he doesn’t share them. Just shakes his head occasionally, not asking what is wrong, likely knowing. Suspecting he wears it like the rest of his shame, brightly coloured and decorated in bright lights.

A fool’s outfit, he thinks. A thing he is, a thing he knows. It carved into him at this point. Scratched into the skin and muscle, yet everyone else sees the word hero.

It’s eight weeks and four days when the door of the party opens, the sun streaming in—illuminating the back of a person in a dress adorned with flowers. It takes a second, the condensation on his beer dripping down his wrist as he stares, trying to place the shape and the style of the hair. Not wanting to imagine, not wanting to jump ahead of himself until he hears your mom say your name, all excitable—practically a shriek.

He’s not prepared.

Yet, it’s out of habit he moves.

Like the two of you are magnets, that realised they were supposed to be a pair. The music doesn’t quiet, and the room doesn’t hold its breath, but Javi does—and he suspects you do too.

Just as time comes to a slow stop—the hand in his watch takes an age to flick to the next second as his heart hammers into his ribs. Staring, fingers itching to reach out and ensure you’re not something he’s fabricated, not a mirage from wanting so badly and convincing himself he’d never have it.

“Hi.”

“Hello, Piña.”

It weighs heavy then—clots on his tongue. Almost shapes itself into bile and rests horridly against his tongue as he follows you around, hand close to reaching out to place on your lower back, but stops when he remembers where he is.

Home.

A thing it all of a sudden feels like when you turn your head, lift your chin and stare at him—eyes full of forgiveness, and understanding. “We should talk, right?”

Right, he thinks. Trying to stop the twist in his chest from tightening, trying to stop the dread from filling him and drowning from within. Conversations never go well. A thing he thinks over, and over as his hand strokes over his face, following, one foot after the other, until the warm sun kisses his skin and he finds himself leaning against the side of the building.

“I didn’t come for you.”

He says nothing, not sure if there are any to say.

“I quit. Moved back a week and a bit ago—” your hand comes up to halt him, half-pleading with a tilt and a raise of your eyes. “—and I needed to find things for me, first.”

Folding his arms, he stretches his legs, lets himself elongate, and tries to fill his lungs with air.

“Because I’d have resented you for being right.” Your chin dips, eyes following. “A thing I would do, because you, Javier Peña, know me. And sometimes I really hate that.”

Exhaling, he finds you do the same. Head tilting, lips rolling as you take him in, trace him with your eyes as though you can't quite believe he's real.

“Did you know that every person I’ve been with, it gets to a point where I think ‘Fuck, Javi wouldn’t do this to me’?” Meeting his gaze, you exhale. “And then, no matter how much I felt for them, it goes.”

“Flor…”

Swallowing, you offer the smallest smile. “It’s never gone for you, though. Not when you left. Not when you came back, and left again. Not eight weeks ago when I should have asked you to stay.”

Tongue sticking, flat against the roof his mouth, he grabs your hand—holds it. Runs his thumb over the knuckles as you avert your eyes.

“I live in Laredo now, further north. Did you know I’m so good at what I do, people seek me out?” you say, beaming, letting him pull you closer. “Think they’d have cloned me you if I’d asked for it.”

Dragging his knuckles down your cheek, he’s unable to stop the way it flares up in him—that joy, that ember of happiness—when you smile.

“Because I don’t think I find the idea of being yours that terrible—”

“That so?”

Shaking your head, fingers playing with the buttons on his shirt, he watches your smile falter—just for a moment. “Don’t do this, if you’re going to up and leave again, Javi. Because I’d have died happily not telling you what I feel for you.”

“Not doing it again to you.”

“Okay. Then,” you sigh, sliding your arms around his neck, his hands finding a home on your waist. “Well, I guess I should tell you that I really like your moustache.”

“Just really like?” he teases, swaying you as you purse your lips together.

“Fine. I love it.”

Smiling, walking you back until your back meets the wooden railings. “I love that you love it.”

Rolling your eyes, forehead meeting his chest, he feels the laugh roll through you. Rumbling.

“You owe me flowers.”

Snorting, he rests his chin on your head. “I’ll buy you a field, Flor.”

“That’s a good start.”

Thought so, he thinks. Wrapping his arms around you, keeping your head against him, rocking you, like he's wished to do so many times before now.

Home now feeling right.

[merakiui]

angel/angler.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, stalking, non-con, non-consensual photography, chikan/groping (train molestation), obsession, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, violence, blood, death (or is it??), azul's insecurities and low self-esteem, azul’s not-so-subtle breeding kink, implied disordered eating, reader's height isn't described, but it's written that azul is taller note - to obsess is to hunger like an angler from the deep sea. living his entire life in pitch-black solitude, entranced by an angel's halo; his only purpose is to find the body that will become his lifeline and, one day, his cemetery.

entry 1: 18 April, 20XX.

For anonymity’s sake, I’ve chosen to write using a vague pronoun. Additionally, this diary will be a record of my thoughts so that I can keep my mind and senses intact. In my youth, I was prone to terrible fits of self-destructive rage, and as a result they suggested I write my feelings down to prevent any outbursts. I’m not very physical towards others. Rather, it was the harm I posed to myself that fostered concern.

But this space isn’t for my own views on myself. It’s about someone else. 

I have a confession: I’ve fallen in love with you from the train, and I’ve been in love with you for the four months I’ve come to know you.

You wear perfectly pressed suits, heels of a modest height, tights, and pencil skirts that cut just at your knees. I want to touch you, but if I do you might stop wearing skirts altogether and then I’ll never see your legs again. I suppose trousers aren’t so unattractive. They’re appealing in their own right. Everything looks good on you, though. (Nothing would look even better.)

You work in an office building. I’m not sure which floor, but I’ll know soon enough. I wanted to follow you inside, but there’s a security guard in the lobby. He always greets you, and you always smile and chat with him. You’re a kind person, so I let this pass without incident. But I can’t lie to these pages and say it’s not troublesome when I watch his gaze linger longer than it needs to. 

I’d kill him, but then they’d employ a new guard and you’d make friends with him because you’re so kind. I don’t admire kind people. Rather, I find kindness to be a double-edged blade (Is that the correct phrasing? It’s different in my hometown. We say kindness is like pufferfish—harmless until it’s provoked and then it becomes poisonous). It’s not that I look down on kind people. I just think you shouldn’t be so quick to befriend the world in its entirety.

After plenty of observation, I’ve learned that you often leave your building to get lunch by yourself. This is what you’ve eaten in the week:

Monday - A salad at a popular café. Iced tea because it was a sunny day. A tiny cheesecake for dessert. It was blueberry.

Tuesday - A wrap of some kind. Chicken? Or was it vegetarian? Sweet potato fries. Water.

Wednesday - You didn’t leave your building. Were you at work today? 

Thursday - Another salad. Water. Same café. No tiny cheesecake.

Friday - You went to lunch with that guard. I only remember my irritation and so I’m afraid I can’t make note of your meal for today. He looks at you like an obsessed puppy waiting for its owner to give it attention. I want to pluck his eyes from his sockets so he’ll never look at you in that way again.

You lead a healthy lifestyle, but I can’t help wondering if you’re eating well. Did someone say something about your figure? I’ll eviscerate them for you and then they can see how much it hurts when unnecessary scrutiny is thrown around.

It’s quite late. I want to sleep, but thinking about you has my body wide-awake. I wonder if your mouth tastes like the moonlight shining in through my window. I wonder if your body is soft like mine… Of course it is. A silly, irrational thought. You’re much warmer than me. This is just a theory. I’ve yet to feel and confirm for myself. I will in the foreseeable future.

Before we part ways, I want you to know that I’m not very good at cooking. I’ve picked up a few books and hope to learn. I’m going to practice so that I can feed you better meals one day. Salads are the worst. Fried chicken is the true meal of heaven. I’m certain you would share this sentiment.

If I were to be condemned to a last meal like those serial killers on death row, I’d ask for fried chicken. Knowing you, you’re too good to kill anyone. In this hypothetical, supposing you’re a heinous criminal, your last meal would be something healthy. Do you even like those salads, or are you forcing yourself because you must? I understand calorie-counting well enough, but if there’s one thing to enjoy in life it should be food.

I suppose that makes me a hypocrite. I ought to take my own advice.

Oh. I’m starting to grip my pen with more force and the lines have become shaky. I usually break my writing utensils if my focus strays. I’ll stop here for today. Ink is a pain to clean.

AA.

The morning rush is your greatest enemy.

Jack Howl, the lobby’s security, has suggested giving you a ride on numerous occasions. “It’s part of the reason I got my license,” he explained once, “so that I can protect those who work in this building from the rush. Not like you have to accept my offer. It’s just…convenient for both of us. Again, I don’t care what you do.”

(He does. You see through his gruff surface.)

According to him, the morning and night rushes bring out the worst kinds of characters.

But isn’t that everywhere? you think as you peer out the window, watching the city come into clarity.

Like every morning, the train car is more crowded than a sardine tin. You’re used to being pressed up against other commuters, pinned to the window or between people. You’re flattered to know someone’s concerned, but nothing has happened yet. And why would it? It’s bright outside. No one would dare do something during the day. At least, not in a crowded area where anyone could see and hear.

I wonder what I should have for dinner. I still need to go shopping. My fridge is way too empty, you think, sighing. And I need to follow up with that one author. They’ve yet to get back to me about my edits. Perhaps we should meet in the office instead of through video call… And I also need to finalize that other style sheet after the last round of editing. And then another conference… There was something else. Was I scheduled to have lunch with an author? Or was that next week? I should check before—

The train shudders as it slides into the station. Someone brushes against you from behind. Their hand is pressed against the window just near your head. They steady themselves, their body so close to yours you can hear their staggered breathing.

“Ah. S-Sorry…”

It’s next week, right? I really should check once I get to my stop. This is going to eat me alive all day.

“Mhm,” you hum, waving dismissively.

The stranger standing behind you peels his hand away from the window. A sweaty palm print is left in its wake.

“We will be approaching the next stop shortly.”

Just one more and you’ll be getting off.

A pair of bright eyes blinks back at you in the reflection, watching the city just as you are.

entry 5: 22 April, 20XX.

I’m not a social person by any means. If I can avoid crowds, I usually do. An introvert’s paradise is best spent in the comfort of their own room, after all. But if you prefer outdoor dates I can become extroverted for your sake. There are lots of things I’m willing to do for your sake.

Which is why I’ve forced myself to tolerate the train. I loathe it. It’s cramped and uncomfortable. Most days I’m not even near you, and so all I can do is stare longingly from afar. I content myself with imaginary scenarios like in the books you edit. I’ve mentioned it sparsely in this diary, but you’re a brilliant editor. Most of the novels you work on aren’t exactly my taste, but there’s something to appreciate about them. Reading through them knowing your very eyes pored over these pages dozens of times before publication… I admire your work. Immense time and effort goes into all professions, especially ones that involve meticulous touches. 

With this discussion of careers, you might wonder what I do for a living. I manage my own restaurant chain off-site. It must be shocking news for you to realize: your secret admirer is actually quite successful.

If I’m not able to provide an adequate life—no, more than that. If I cannot drown you in all of life’s luxuries, I should sooner throw myself on the beach and let this soft, wriggling body of mine dry out than settle for the barest of minimums. You deserve only the finest.

In fact, I have a room in my home dedicated to you. A private office in which you can write and edit in peace. It’s furnished with everything you’d ever need. I hope to gift it to you one day.

Remote work is very relaxing. (You’ll know this once you try it here.) When you’re boss, you work your own schedule. That’s why I’m able to fit our secret meetings into my weekly itinerary.

Today’s meeting was quite fortuitous. I felt like I’d won the lottery. Mostly because I was finally given the opportunity to be close to you. So close, in fact, that you didn’t even notice when I slid my phone under your skirt to take a few photos. Your undergarments are unexpectedly plain. Truthfully, I’m somewhat disappointed. I was hoping to learn your lingerie preferences. At the very least, I know your tights are sheer enough to show me the color of your panties.

I consider myself a connoisseur of many things, and I’ve done enough interior decorating in my time to become well-accustomed to color palettes. A fool would say your panties are red, but they’re actually maroon.

That same fool wouldn’t take another breath after glimpsing such a private side of you.

If you must know, my dear, I am excessively avaricious when it comes to the things I like. I have always been this way. I am a collector. A hoarder of secrets. I refuse to let others touch or take the things that belong to me, especially when they are wholly undeserving…

I’ve broken another pen. Thankfully, the mess wasn’t so extreme. Not-so-thankfully, I’ve lost my train of thought.

Ah. Right. Trains.

Today I rode the train, and I was standing right behind you. You were looking out the window, lost in your thoughts, and so you didn’t notice me. You must have seen my reflection, but I wear a mask and a hooded sweatshirt when I go outside. Perhaps it’s a touch embarrassing to admit, but I am very self-conscious of the way I look. Firstly, my eyes are too tired. I’ve read that many people are not fond of eyes with dark circles under them. Secondly, my face is average—unworthy of your love by my lofty standards. My hair never cooperates. My smiles never fit properly. My skin is too pale. My eyes are too blue and my pupils are abnormal. My weight is just a few kilograms above the average. I will work hard to bring it back down for your sake and for my own so that it won’t show. I prefer a slim waist, so I must stomach all manner of healthy foods for the weekend. What a pity… Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could eat whatever you wanted without having to worry about caloric intake and numbers on a scale?

That aside, there are times in which my glasses sit crooked on my face and it’s a horrifying thought to imagine I walk around looking like that! As if I’ve rolled right out of bed with no regard for my appearance whatsoever!

Perhaps the both of us share one similarity. We are vain creatures who care too much about how we present ourselves to others.

Thus, I conceal myself so that you won’t judge me harshly should you look upon me. Not like you’d do that. You were so immersed in your head that you hardly paid any attention to your surroundings. You should be more careful. What if something were to happen and I wasn’t there to protect you?

The train stuttered to a halt at the first stop, and some fool bumped into me. I should thank them because I got to brush against you. You gasped softly. I watched your breath fog the window. I placed my hand just above your head and apologized softly, and you weren’t bothered in the slightest. Oh, how I envy your carefree nature.

As a result of that stranger’s mishap, I’ve learned something new. You wear perfume. Even with my mask, I could smell it. Strong and flowery, overwhelmingly sweet. Maybe you prefer these scents? I’m more partial to mature scents, but I admit there’s a certain charm to the scents you wear. I wish I knew the exact brand. There are dozens of perfumes with the same notes as the ones I picked up, but none can compare to the one you use. I want to be able to hold the bottle knowing it’s your favorite.

I’ve prattled enough. With the length of my entries, you’d assume I was this chatty beyond the page. I’m not. I only say as much as I think is necessary.

Once again, I’m having trouble falling asleep. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m looking through the photos I snapped and the outline of your lips against your panties is lovely. I’m sure you’re just as soft and sweet inside as you are on the outside. If only I could experience it right now. My hand can’t replicate the softness or the wetness or the way you’ll probably clamp down when we finally make love.

I can only fantasize for now. What a pain. 

AA.

“It’s going to rain today,” Jack tells you the minute you step through the lift doors into the lobby. He stands straight like a soldier, his shoulders squared and features set into something serious.

“Looks like it, huh?” You glance at the darkening sky outside, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Hopefully it rains after I get home. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“I’ll drive you.” He falls into step beside you. “It’s dark out and the station is—”

“It’s only five minutes away. I’ll be fine. I take this way all the time.”

Jack’s lip twitches into a grim frown. The beginnings of a sharp, pearly-white canine flashes at you as his mouth curls. “Fine,” he concedes with a huff. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck and looks elsewhere. “Do what you want. I’m not forcing you or anything.”

You smile at him. “You’re very considerate, Jack. I appreciate the concern.”

He’s like a puppy. It’s really sweet.

“W-Wha—who said anything about concern?” His face is growing warmer by the second, thawing his external ice.

“I’ll be okay. It’s not even that dark out either.”

“Still…” He sighs and cards his hand through his hair. “You haven’t noticed anything weird lately, have you?”

“Anything weird?” You furrow your brows, suddenly confused.

“On your way home. Nothing out of the ordinary? It’s the same every day?”

“Mostly, yeah. Why? Did something happen?”

“No. Just wondering…” Jack looks past you then, searching for something you can’t seem to see. “You sure you don’t want a ride? I can walk you to the station. Protect you if anything or anyone—”

You force yourself to laugh. “Come on. You’re trying to scare me on purpose. This is because I told you I’m editing a horror novel, isn’t it?”

Jack doesn’t share in your humor. Instead, his frown tightens on his face.

“While I’m grateful you want to help, I really don’t want to put that on you. It’s not your job to chauffeur me around. I’d feel bad if I made you do that. So thank you, but I’ll have to decline.”

You turn swiftly on your heel before he can protest, striding out the door into the gloomy night.

When is it going to be summer? It’s way too chilly.

You burrow into your jacket as you beeline for the station. A brisk breeze blows through busy city streets. Even though there are still people out and about, it feels strangely desolate.

Jack’s heart was in the right place, but did he really have to phrase it like that? 

You wrap your arms around yourself and hurry along. Your steps are in time with your pounding heart. A cold sweat beads along your forehead. 

Relax. It’s nothing to get worked up over. I’m fine.

Crunch.

You whirl around, clutching your bag between your arms. There’s no one in sight. The city seems eerily quiet tonight.

Stop scaring yourself. Nothing’s there.

No, it’s not something that could make that sound—a noise akin to a footstep. That belongs to someone.

Is someone following you?

You aren’t going to wait around and find out. Now you’re jogging the rest of the way, your heels clicking against the pavement. Your breath comes in shaky heaves, and by the time you finally step into the station’s blinding fluorescents, adrenaline still vibrating through your veins, you notice the time.

My train—it’s already here! Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!

You rush through the station in a flurry, and the relief is tangible once you’re safe and sound inside the train car. You squirm through the throng of late-night commuters towards the window.

“Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me,” you murmur as you navigate the crowded space.

You make it to the window just as the doors slide shut. Moments later, the train squeaks into motion.

I worked up such a sweat. I can’t believe I got so frazzled over something as small as a snapped twig…or whatever that was. It wasn’t a footstep. And if it was, it was probably my own.

You shake your head at your reflection.

Look at me, losing my mind all because I let someone’s words get to my head. 

The stranger standing behind you sighs alongside you. You’re about to turn around, but it’s their hands on your waist that stop you. Your blood freezes. Your spine goes rigid.

“Excuse me? Um… C-Can I help you?”

You gasp, horrified, as the hands creep higher until they’re wrapped around your chest. The stranger squeezes almost curiously. Their breath catches on an eager hitch. You peer helplessly at the window. Two blue eyes blink back.

“Wait… Hold on—”

“It’s okay.” A man’s voice. Sweet and silky-smooth. A reassuring whisper. Only you can hear it with this invasively close proximity. It might as well be a drop in the ocean that is the rickety din of the train on the rails. You reach to grab his arms, hoping to pry him off. “I’m not going to hurt you. As long as you’re quiet…”

“No, you can’t. Please, sir. S-Stop… Don’t touch there.” Your fingers curl around his wrists. You squirm against him, your brain blanking.

This can’t be happening… There’s just no way…

Something stiff prods at your ass from behind. You yelp softly when he rubs himself against you. You try to catch sight of his features when you crane your neck, but all you get is a faceful of a dark hoodie. He’s tall enough to block you from the other passengers, his body caging yours against the window. One hand slides away from your chest to slip under your skirt. He gropes at your inner thigh; his fingers draw dangerously close to private territory.

“Sir—”

He inhales a dreamy breath. “Perfect,” he babbles, his words muffled by his mask. “So perfect. Warm… And soft. Just as I thought.”

There’s nowhere for you to run. Nowhere to hide. You’re trapped here with this fiend until you get off at your stop.

“We will be approaching the stop shortly,” the woman on the intercom says, but it doesn’t give you the relief you’re after.

Three more stops and then you’ll be at yours. Three more. Three. Your stop might as well be years away.

Two fingers trace the outline of your pussy through your panties. You’re grateful you’re wearing tights.

His breathing is heavy. He’s mumbling filth in your ear. You hardly register it over the static in your brain.

Gross. So gross. Stop it. Please stop. I don’t want this.

A whine bubbles low in your throat when he presses down against your clit. He caresses you through the fabric of your panties. You slump against the window with your palms on the glass. Your heart is in your throat. You feel sick and dizzy. It’s too hot in here. Everything is spinning. Your heart is picking up its pace. Your hands are starting to shake. 

And there’s nowhere to go. No amount of begging will stop him. He’s all over you, pressed impossibly close—so close you think he’s trying to fuse his body to yours, becoming one mutual unit.

You want to scream, but you can’t find your voice. You can’t do anything. You can’t even think.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, twining his fingers around your trembling ones. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmh, no… No—stop. P-Please, sir, please stop.” You shudder against him, and a choked, broken sob rattles through your ribs. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand. His other circles your tender, sensitive clit, and the contact elicits a whimper from you. “Even though you’re making the cutest sounds? Aah, I wanna be inside you so badly… I’m sure it’s even softer there.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard that your teeth pierce the skin. A thin ribbon of blood dribbles down your chin. You refuse to give him that satisfaction. Even though your attempt to snuff your voice is successful, your body doesn’t seem to agree. It shakes in fear and arousal. When he presses against your panties next, he feels the growing damp spot. 

That’s just a natural reaction, right? I’m not actually aroused by this. There’s no way!

Just when you think he might pursue further, he pulls back. His hips are still flush to your ass. You can feel his cock straining against the fabric. It’s gross and demoralizing. You’re nothing but a doll for him to get off to. Less than a person.

The train glides to a halt and the doors open. People exit and enter in a busy fashion. You stare out the window at your blurred surroundings.

When the train eases back into motion, you realize tears are welling in your eyes. They don’t fall. Not yet.

It isn’t until you get off at your stop, sprint the rest of the way home, hurry up into your apartment, and lock the door that the horror of it all finally catches up to you. You collapse to your knees and wail like you’ve just lost something precious—something you’ll never be able to get back.

You’ve never felt more dirty before.

entry 36: 4 May, 20XX.

I did it. I finally did it.

My hand is shaking; I’m so happy. No, I’m more than happy. I’m absolutely overjoyed!

You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m terribly envious. I suppose that’s why I could muster the confidence to touch you and hold you… Your body is so soft against mine. Every inch of you is beautiful. I wish I could have felt beneath your shirt, lifted your bra to see your bare breasts in the window’s reflection. This is quite the shameless admission. Even I, despite admiring you for so long, am loath to admit it.

You mesmerize me. I’m already flustered just thinking about the way your hand fit in mine when I held it… And you were aroused! I was so close to such a precious area, and you were wet for me and only me. I feel so overwhelmed. It’s a dream come true. You’re such an angel. My angel.

My dear, darling angel, I’m sorry for startling you. That was the only way, you see, and certain circumstances led me to that point. You must understand.

To be unfiltered about it, it was annoying seeing that security guard pester you. I had the strongest urge to kill him, but that’s not something you can do on a whim. Murder is like running a business, in a way. One misstep, a bad investment or a sliver of evidence left behind, and it might spell the end.

That’s besides the point. It’s hardly worth the time. 

Regrettably, while on the train into the city, I noticed you were wearing trousers today. I was right. Last night was a once-in-a-lifetime event. A pity. Your legs in those sheer tights is a vision to behold. Luckily, I have enough pictures to satisfy the craving to see you in them. When you live with me, I’ll buy plenty of tights for you to wear around the house. That way you won’t have to worry if I rip them.

That aside, you’ve started looking over your shoulder more. You talked to that security guard longer than you normally do. It’s irritating. Quite frankly, it pisses me off.

I don’t want to be childish. I understand you’re stressed and nervous. Anyone would be. That’s normal. But I’m not going to hurt you. I even told you those exact words! I’m certain you would have calmed down if you could see my face. Unfortunately, I’m not very blessed in that department. I assure you my personality is far prettier…despite the ugly truths I’ve penned here.

But then those don’t matter when it comes to love. Even in love, couples are supposed to recognize and accept each other’s flaws. So it’s fine if I’m an ugly person. It’s fine if I’m a devil or something grotesque from the deepest trench in the sea. At least, in spite of such darkness, your halo will continue to light the way and I will always be lured in by your luminosity.

I can’t do much of anything right now and that has led me to feel increasingly itchy. I want to feel you again. Smell you. Touch you. I’d like to taste you next time. Part your legs or tear your skirt off and indulge in the space you keep hidden from me. I want to sink into your depths and know the shape of you just as you twist yourself to take the shape of me. 

It’s just not enough. I desire more of you. 

AA.

entry 40: 8 May, 20XX.

It’s been a few days. You haven’t taken the train since. Now you’re driven to and from work by that pest. I was overcome with such frustration yesterday that I slammed my hands down upon my desk and fractured my wrist. For the time being, until my wrist heals, I must wear this unsightly stabilizer-brace-thing and write carefully with my non-dominant hand. I like to consider myself ambidextrous, if only because it’s a talent I’m sure will impress you, as you seem to surround yourself with successful, talented people, but I must admit my lettering is rather…subpar.

It’s not as neat as I hoped it would be. Something to practice while my wrist heals, I suppose.

There’s only so much strain I can take, my angel. Are you really so afraid of me that you’ve chosen to rely on someone else to protect you? If it was funny, I’d laugh. But it’s not. It’s annoying. Must I chain you up by the throat so that you won’t run away? Must I cuff our wrists together so that neither of us can part ways? What must I do to ensure you’ll never leave me?

Every day I spend in solitude, you grow closer to everyone but me. It’s infuriating.

However, there are always silvers of hope to be found and exploited in misfortune. As a businessman, I know this well enough.

I can plan around this. I’ve taken a few photos of your house at every angle. It’s important to think ahead when making a calculated risk.

When you go to kidnap the love of your life, you must dress appropriately, no? Now should I wear a formal suit or something casual?

I have some time and plenty to look forward to.

AA.

Like always, early as usual, Jack is waiting for you below your apartment. You see his car from the window and light up at once.

It’s been two months since the incident on the train. Jack insisted you go to the police when you confided in him a week after the fact. But what could they do? A story isn’t evidence. Evidence is evidence. So to combat that, you’ve avoided public transport altogether. Jack drives you to and from work and anywhere else you need to go. You never knew him very well before this mess, and you regret not starting a friendship sooner. He’s everything you need right now: a friend, a listener, and someone you can trust and rely on.

Like always, he unlocks the door so you can put your things in the back. “It’s my turn to treat for lunch today, so let’s go somewhere you like.”

You shut the door and open the passenger side, sliding in seamlessly.

“There’s no need for that.”

Your heart skips. Your breath stumbles in your lungs. Your body tenses.

You finally look at the driver.

He’s wearing what appears to be an expensive collared shirt with a tie, but the top half is covered by the soft hoodie he’s thrown on over it. He has a mask like before, but there’s no denying his eyes. Bright and blue, deep and deceptive like the ocean, they blink back at you.

The door locks with a click.

You throw yourself at it in a useless effort to escape. The masked stranger seizes your wrist. You scream.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I-It’s only me! I won’t hurt you.” He tugs his mask down to his chin so that you can see the wobbly smile on his face. “Please don’t be scared…”

“Let go of me, you pervert!” You rip your arm free and reach for the door once more. “What the hell are you doing here?! W-Where’s Jack? Why are you—”

You choke around the rest of your words when he wraps his arms around you and yanks you over the seat towards him. You kick out like a deranged animal, breathing heavy and frantic, your eyes darting to and fro. The stranger manages to manhandle you into a chokehold despite the struggle. With his arm wrapped around your neck, he grabs a plastic water bottle with his free hand. Clumsily, he unscrews the cap and presses the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

“I’m sorry for being so rough, but I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me? Drink all of it.” As he says this, he tips the bottle and the strange liquid fills your mouth. You fight against his hold, doing everything you can to resist. He tightens his grip on you, dragging your body closer to his. “Swallow it, or I’ll slit your throat.”

Against your will, very shakily, you gulp down the solution. It tastes bitter and vile like medicine. A little salty.

“I didn’t want to frighten you, my angel, but this is the only way you’ll listen.” He swipes the tear threatening to spill from your eye. “You don’t have to cry. I’ll take you home and keep you safe. Just drink the rest of this and take a nap until we get there. That’s it. You’re almost done. I know it’s disgusting, but you have to drink it all, my love.”

“Why…” you sputter, coughing. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” He blinks at you as if the answer is obvious. “Because I love you.”

You can’t understand the logic there. You don’t want to.

Slumping against the seat, boneless and disturbed, you tremble when he leans over to buckle you in. And you continue to do so until you’re pulled into sleep. 

Two blue eyes follow you in your dreams, sticking to your body like old gum under a school desk. In sleep, you feel his hands on you—clinging and cloying like tentacles and the stench of brine, all-enveloping.

entry 179: 24 September, 20XX.

Summer is winding to a close. The last few vestiges of warmth are slipping away. Today’s weather was crisp. Autumn is approaching. 

It’s been a difficult few months. I’ve catalogued my process in the time you’ve spent with me, locked away in our bedroom. I must keep you chained to the bed for the time being. It’s long enough to lead into the bathroom. Until I can trust you, this is the arrangement at present.

They’re still searching for you, albeit not as frantically and frequently. I hope they assume you’ve met some grisly end so that I can finally shelve that anxiety and move on with my life. While I’m relieved it wasn’t as messy as I thought it’d be, I’m just a touch disheartened. I would have loved to watch the light fade from that guard’s eyes.

But that just wasn’t feasible or smart. Besides, what else am I to use my current fortune for, if not the props needed for that day? You call it kidnapping, and while that term is technically true I prefer something sweeter. A reunion of sorts. 

There’s nothing of note to discuss. You haven’t accepted your new home or me yet, so I will continue to wait. I can be patient. I must be if this relationship is going to work (and it will). 

I don’t particularly believe in soulmates. Rather, I find the concept to be foolish. Fate does not dictate an entire life. It is the decisions you make along the way that shape your paths. Just like in my favorite board game. I’d like to play it with you. Although I must admit I already know how our life goes. I have a few routes in mind.

You look at me with such scalding contempt when I imply we ought to start a family, and even though I’ve been victim to that look so many times it doesn’t burn any less. You just can’t see how good this is for you yet.

What else are we to do with our time if not use it to fill quiet halls with the pitter-patter of tiny feet? I have a few names in mind, but for now we’ll take it one day at a time. I’m a patient man despite my temper.

AA.

entry 257: 11 December, 20XX.

Exciting news! Though it may seem small, we’ve reached an understanding. Or so I suspect. You’re not so averse to me anymore. In fact, we take baths together, eat meals together, watch TV together, play board games together… There are so many things we do together as a couple and so, despite the encroaching winter frost, my days have become warmer! Just last night you allowed me to sleep beside you on our bed, and I held you close and you kissed me and I felt like the luckiest man alive.

Finally! Genuine progress!

I won’t delude myself and say that you may finally love me in the way I love you, but a start is a start. I admit I couldn’t help myself. I returned your kiss tenfold, all over your face, down the column of your throat to your collarbone. I was gentle and careful. I didn’t rush.

I like to play experienced in all fields, but even I can’t act perfectly. How should I describe our first time without all of the shameless vulgarity? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Sex is sex no matter how you try to embellish it. Filthy and imperfect, sweaty and sticky, more effort and exercise than I realized.

You pulled me in close, pursued my mouth with the same want in mine, and it was more cathartic than anything I’ve ever known. Oh, to be kissed by the love of your life! I wasn’t aware such joy existed.

You palmed me through my pajamas and told me you wanted a family—that the idea of raising a little one was perfectly charming. I admit it’s an alluring thought I’ve had long before you lived with me. I’ve always thought you would look very enchanting while pregnant. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. Even though it isn’t official yet, it doesn’t hurt to call myself your husband. In my mind and heart, we’re married. It may not seem so to you yet, but it will be.

Back to the matter at hand. Hearing that you wanted a child with me made me happy. I can’t remember if I cried. I must have because you pulled me in close and you, lying beneath me, wiped at my face and told me you wanted me to give you a child. And who am I if not the most doting, most benevolent husband? I’d do anything for you.

This must be what a predator feels when they tear into prey: a rapture so absolute and all-consuming that it covers their brain like a cotton shroud and renders every other action a hazy instinct.

It was a blur even though I was sure I moved slowly. Clothes weren’t exactly shucked. They were in the way and we had a singular goal, far too focused to remove them completely. Thus, they were pulled up, down, to the side, in whichever way provided easiest access. I closed my hands around your breasts and they feel so much softer without the obstruction of clothes.

Perhaps, rather than humans, we’re just anglerfish. Hungry for each other, using the other, a voracious relationship full of mutual benefits. If I could, I’d love to live inside you. I want nothing more than to press myself close enough to feel your heart beat alongside mine. To feel rushing blood. To turn myself inside-out just to satisfy you. Give you every little thing I can offer—brain and body—and we’d cleave through sunless waters as one, together forever.

The word ‘love’ is not large enough to truly encapsulate all that I feel for you.

My forehead pressed to yours. You kissed me once. I felt sloppy. I was sloppy. Inexperienced. We both are. Your hand wrapped around me. I told you it was okay, to do it at your own pace, to tell me if it hurts. But you kissed my every anxiety away, and in just a few strokes we were connected. Perhaps I died then and I’m still dead now.

Maybe I’m writing this from the moon or the deep, dark sea. Maybe all of this is just a long dream and I’m not even human. Maybe I’m the anglerfish stuck to your side, latched on with my sharp teeth, our lives forever intertwined. You taste of fruit and blood and every beautifully painful thing in this world.

For the first time in the many months we’ve lived together, you called me by my name. You gasped it as you curled your legs around my waist and clung to my chest, your arms draped over my neck, nails in my back. You chanted it like a song. I must have done the same with yours.

However, no amount of carnal euphoria can change the fact that I still have my reservations about unchaining you.

A deliberation for another day. It’s time to cook dinner. I’ve improved lots in the time we’ve known each other. You help around the kitchen as well. Harmless things like stirring batter or mixing a salad. I can’t trust you with actual food prep for reasons I’m sure are obvious and understandable. I try to create balanced meal plans. Now that I’m no longer eating alone and surviving off of misery, I want to show you that I’m both a great chef and a conscientious eater.

AA.

You watch the seasons shift outside the bedroom window and there’s nothing you can do.

You live life chained like a prisoner and there’s nothing you can do.

You eat off paper plates with the same utensils made for toddlers and there’s nothing you can do.

You let the same man whose touch was once so covetous pet you all over with his hands and mouth and there’s nothing you can do.

You’re stuck here forever and there’s nothing you can do.

There are highs higher than the clouds and then there are lows lower than the sea. You oscillate between these temperaments, a body thrown around on rocky waves. How you’ve yet to sink and drown for good, you’re not sure.

Today’s low has brought Azul to his knees. You stand over him, gripping the knife in a shaky hold. Chopped vegetables scatter in a rainbow on the floor. He had been chopping them so methodically, so wrapped up in pleasant conversation with you, that he hadn’t been expecting the retaliation. The blade is freshly sharpened. The perfect weapon. The perfect opportunity. Freedom just after this final hurdle.

Freedom that comes with its burdens—with a child and the law and the media and… And then what? A life of loneliness. A life spent working through mountains of trauma. A life in which you can never look at the train again.

Two blue eyes blink up at you. For the first time, Azul looks scared and weak—a small, pitiful thing. For the first time, you have him trapped beneath your thumb.

You want to bring the knife down and put an end to these cyclical days. You want to crush his spirits in the same way he crushed yours. You want him to know pain so brutal it rots him from the inside.

But you can’t. You want to and in an ideal scenario devoid of fear you would. But you can’t.

You dig your heel palms into your eyes and sob. “I can’t! I’m sorry. I… I can’t do it!”

Azul deflates with a deep sigh. “Oh… Oh, my angel, it’s all right. I forgive you. You’re just a little confused. A little emotional—I get it. We all have emotional moments. I’m not upset.”

“But I—I almost… I was going to—”

“You didn’t. You didn’t, my love, and that’s what matters.” 

He beckons you to his height; you lower to your knees. The knife is still clutched in your hands. He looks between it and you, as if weighing which is more dangerous. Volatile emotions or a blade. Maybe both.

Azul wraps his arms around you and rubs your back consolingly. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”

You sniffle, but the tears won’t stop flowing. “Still… I almost did such a horrible thing to you. I could’ve hurt you—k-killed you!”

“My dear, it’s okay.” He kisses the top of your head, tucking you beneath his chin. “I forgive you.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle. “You do?”

“I do. I always will.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Angel—”

You turn the sharpened point inwards and slam it into his side, just below his rib. It pierces through soft flesh. You pull away just in time to see hurt and betrayal flash across his face, hot like the tears you’re now drying.

Shakily, his movements unsteady, he reaches for the handle. His fingers dance across it, assessing the reality of the situation. You stabbed him. You did it.

He hisses through his teeth when he tears it out. Blood spatters the kitchen floor in a brilliant, vermillion arc. Azul, knife in hand, staggers to his feet and lunges.

You stumble away in a blind panic. 

“How dare you…” He clutches his side with one hand while the other slashes through the air. You narrowly dodge before the knife can slice your arm. Blood seeps through Azul’s shirt, staining his palm red. His expression is twisted in a dark concoction of agony and anger. “I’ve shown you nothing but love and care… I’ve been nothing but patient. I’ve done everything! You were beginning to warm up to me—to this life—our life! I was wrong to trust you. Get back here—”

“You’re crazy! You assaulted me, kidnapped me, threatened me! Do you really think I’d love you after all of that?!” You yelp when his slick, blood-stained fingers wrap around your wrist to drag you down. “Stop! Let go of me!”

You elbow him in the ribs, which causes a shockwave of pain to travel through him, and it gives you enough time to wriggle free. Ripping your arm from his hold, you try to get away when he, aiming to subdue you, grabs hold of your ankle next. You feel the blade sink into your calf before you see it. A terrible cry frays your throat, torn from the depths of your chest like a flower pried from the soil.

“If I’m going to die…” He flops to his knees, wheezing. “If I’m going to die, you’ll die with me.”

“Like hell I will!” you hiss through your teeth, thrashing wildly.

Stupidly, you pull the knife from where it’s wedged in. Blood spurts from the wound, trickling down your leg in a thick, steady stream. You wince and limp towards the door. Closer… You’re almost there.

Azul reaches out with a bloodied hand, his expression utterly shattered. “Wait… Don’t go any further. Please… I need you. We need each other. My angel, my love, please don’t go!”

You tear your eyes away. He’s a monster. You’ll never sympathize with him.

Just before you can get to the front door, Azul picks himself up and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you down and your head hits the floor with a harsh smack. You see stars. The ceiling spins above you. You try to get up, crawl away, escape—whatever it takes to lose him—but he clings to your side, holding tight. His blood is warm and wet against your shirt. The pain in your calf is sparking up your leg, joining the ache at the back of your head in duet.

Pressed so closely, the flow of blood slows. Your shirt soaks up what the rest of his already drenched shirt can’t hold.

You watch the ceiling. The light looks like a halo; it shines brightly. Azul blinks up at you, hopelessly, sickly enthralled. The tip of the knife prods at your stomach. If it pierces, you don’t feel it. You’re sore all over. Bruises are already beginning to bloom.

At the bottom of the sea, clothed in frigid darkness, there is no sense of direction.

That’s the sweetest relief while you wade into unconsciousness with a parasitic angler.

[fxirybun]

🍡 PAC: script shifting scenarios with your DR s/o + mini moodboards

INTRO

hey there my fellow shifters ! i have a sweet treat that i'm about to offer to you all which was already stated in the title above ^^ if you're currently struggling with writing your script or experiencing writer's block , this post is meant for you ꒰◍ˊ◡ˋ꒱੭⁾⁾  i included some mini moodboards to help you visualize the scenarios.

i would like to thank the person who gave me this suggestion ^^ hopefully they get to see this post <3

READ ME

this is a shift-related pick-a-card reading. DR means “desired reality” whilst s/o means “significant other”. scripting is a useful tool that allows shifters to write down their intentions and add some specific details about themselves and the reality they want to enter.

this is a collective reading ! take what resonates and leave what doesn't. i cannot guarantee 100% accuracy. take the pac reading lightly ჱ̒ ｰ̀֊ｰ́ )

ෆ⸒⸒ pile one🍦

these scenarios can be adapted however you like to fit the connection and dynamic you imagine with your DR s/o. it's also great for visualizing deeper moments and building a strong emotional link to that reality !

01 THE COZY CAFÉ DATE

you and your DR s/o are sitting in a cozy , dimly lit café with warm beverages as you and your DR s/o's order. the weather outside is cool , maybe it’s raining outside due to how cloudy the sky is , similar to london weather. the two of you are both wrapped in scarves and sweaters. there's soft music that plays in the background as you and your DR s/o exchange stories about childhood memories and plans for the future.

SELF-MADE QUOTES : "nothing feels warmer than the presence of your soul residing next to me".

02 STARGAZING ADVENTURE

it's a clear night outside and how you and your DR s/o are both planning to drive out to a secluded hill , a field of flowers / plants, or hanging out at the seashore. with a blanket that is spread out , you lie together with them , pointing out the constellations that you saw from the night sky , making wishes on shooting stars , and talking about the vastness of the universe , while feeling deeply connected between you and your DR s/o.

SELF-MADE QUOTES : "the stars are indeed beautiful but i'm only , i'm only looking at you're glimmering eyes whilst you're admiring the night sky".

03 COOKING MEALS TOGETHER

in a warm , sun-filled kitchen , you and your DR s/o are cooking a meal together. inside the kitchen room, you can hear laughter as you playfully argue about how much spice your DR s/o added , maybe a little flour fight breaks out between the two of you. at the end of the cooking session , you both enjoy the meal that you and your DR s/o prepared. there's candlelight on the table , making a toast to the simple joys of life.

SELF-MADE QUOTES : "“we stirred up more than just a meal—laughter , love , and the kind of joy that fills both the heart and the table”.

EXTRAS : anime world , power / influence (being famous , rich , has authority , strong connection with people of high social status) , grumpy x sunshine , with people around you , magical / supernatural , idol world (kpop , jpop , cpop , etc.) , surprise / unplanned / not much is being scripted , introvert x introvert dynamic , erotic , heart , dragonfly , moon , horse , bicycle.

ෆ⸒⸒ pile two 🍵

these scenarios can be adapted however you like to fit the connection and dynamic you imagine with your DR s/o. it's also great for visualizing deeper moments and building a strong emotional link to that reality !

01 A LAZY MORNING IN BED

it's a slow weekend morning. the sunlight coming from the outside streams in through the window , and you and your DR s/o both lie in bed , wrapped up in each other's presence. there's no rush in trying to get up—just sleepy conversation , giving soft kisses , and cuddling whilst the world outside stays still. maybe or perhaps you can even make breakfast together afterward.

SELF-MADE QUOTES : “no need to chase the day when every moment here feels like forever”.

02 A ROAD TRIP WITH NO DESTINATION

you and your DR s/o both decided to take an impromptu road trip together. the windows are up , music coming from the radio is blasting , and how the wind is brushing through your hair. you knew that there was no fixed destination as to where the two of you were going , just an adventure to look forward to. you and them stop at random spots—a small-town diner , a beautiful lookout point , or a quirky roadside attraction whilst creating memories along the way.

SELF-MADE QUOTES : "with no map to guide us , the open road became our compass , and how each stop is an unexpected chapter.”

03 DANCING IN THE LIVING ROOM

on a quiet evening inside the living room , one of your favorite songs comes on from the speaker. without saying a word , your DR s/o pulls you into a dance. you feel as if the rest of the world fades away and time slowly stops as you move together in perfect harmony , lost in each other’s eyes. the warmth of their embrace envelops you , creating a bubble where only the two of you and the music exist. each gentle sway feels like a promise for a lifetime.

SELF-MADE QUOTES : “we both dance in silence , lost in each other’s gaze , turning a simple moment into an eternal memory.”

EXTRAS : adventure , tragedy , booktok / book world , superhero / villain , thriller / horror , comic book world , magical / supernatural , alone , mythology , fairy , horse , starfish / star , mermaid / siren , anchor.

ෆ⸒⸒ pile three 🍫

these scenarios can be adapted however you like to fit the connection and dynamic you imagine with your DR s/o. it's also great for visualizing deeper moments and building a strong emotional link to that reality !

01 CAMPING UNDER THE STARS

you find yourself in a serene forest by a lake , camping with your DR s/o. after setting up a tent , you decided to sit by the fire roasting marshmallows , sharing stories , and how laughter can be heard. the crackling flames and the gentle rustle of leaves create a soothing backdrop for your connection. later on , you and your DR s/o fall asleep , feeling safe in each other's presence. in those moments , the worries of the world fade away , leaving only the warmth of love and the beauty of the stars above.

SELF-MADE QUOTES : "under a starlit sky , “By the firelight, laughter echoed in the serene forest, as we held each other close, wrapped in love and the magic of a starlit night.”

02 CELEBRATING A SPECIAL ACHIEVEMENT

you just accomplished something important in your DR , whether it’s personal or professional , and how you considered it to be a big milestone for you. Your DR s/o found out about this exciting news and decided to surprise you with a small celebration—a homemade dinner , a handwritten letter , or maybe just their heartfelt words of pride and love for the person they love which is you. this moment feels special for the two of you.

SELF-MADE QUOTES : "your support in my achievement made the victory sweeter , but it’s your love that makes every moment feel truly complete.”

03 A DREAM VACATION

you and your DR s/o are about to embark on a vacation to your dream destination. wether this location or trip to a tropical beach , a walk in a european city, or staying in a mountain cabin. you found yourself immersed in spending days exploring , taking a quick relaxation , and even discovering new things with them. there are moments of awe at observing the beautiful landscapes , and feeling connected to the world. your Dr s/o decided to take you to a quiet , romantic dinner with a breathtaking view , making the vacation feel more magical.

SELF-MADE QUOTES : “with every step we take , the world whispers its beauty , but it’s your gaze that holds the most radiant horizon.”

EXTRAS : shoujo , main waiting room , superstar life (singer , dancer , music-related , famous) , surpise / unplanned / not much is being scripted , fan-fiction / au , platonic soulmates (friends , siblings , family , etc.) , slice of life , josei , sci-fi , squirrel , rose , tree , moon , star.

[pupyuj]

→ “little things.” || ahn yujin x reader fic.

— being away from weeks too long from your girlfriend has led you into thinking all the horrible things about yourself that you thought you had shut down long ago, but of course yujin wouldn't let that slide...

word count: 6.3k.

dynamic: soft dom!ahn yujin x sub!reader.

warnings: hurt/comfort (emphasis on hurt...), angst, reader suffers a depressive episode, praises, reassurance, cunnilingus, fingering.

requested?: yes!

a/n: 2/4 requested fics done! we're almost there! i hope the anon that requested this months ago is still lurking around to read this, and i hope they're in a better place now as they told me that this request came to be because of their struggles ;~; anon, please know that you are loved by a lot of people no matter what you may think of yourself ❤️‍🩹 i hope you all will love this fic as much as i loved writing it 💞 definitely hit a little close to home 😆

your girlfriend loved you more than it was humanly possible to love another person, but you were somehow convinced that she didn’t.

because how could she? she’s ahn yujin—a top-class idol, a beloved entertainer widely known throughout the country and even the damn world! she’s the leader of one of south korea’s best girl groups in history, she’s so famous that her face is plastered all over billboards, ads, articles, posters, screens… ahn yujin was a real treasure. and you? a mere secretary in a moderately famous game company. it was the real workings of fate that made you and yujin meet right outside of your company building where you were crying at the bottom of the stairs that led to the entrance doors after receiving yet another senseless sermon from your boss. yujin just so happened to be walking her precious dog in the area and was kind enough to waste her time comforting a stranger.

though at the time, you hadn’t known it was yujin due to her being disguised as a random passerby. that was until she took off her hat, face mask, and colored hair extensions that you finally realized where you’d seen those cute dimples before—the tv screens. you didn’t make a big fuss out of being face to face with a literal golden celebrity, and yujin appreciated that a lot. so much so that she opted to stay with you on the concrete until she was able to lift your spirits. of course the two of you said your goodbyes, but both of you knew in your hearts that you would meet again someday.

and that proved to be true merely three weeks later; when all six members of ive, as well as their staff members, graced the conference room in a meeting for a collaboration with one of your company’s most popular games. you and yujin stared at each other with soft smiles and loudly-beating hearts—it was the start of a warm friendship, and an even warmer relationship when yujin finally got the guts to ask you out on a date after having been friends and colleagues for a year.

now, in your sixth year as a couple, you should be happier than ever. you’ve created the most euphoric of memories with yujin, shared the loveliest of promise rings, kissed the best of kisses, and you’ve even sworn to each other that when things calm down on yujin’s end then the two of you would settle in together, live in the same house, and eventually, if fate allows it so, get married. it all had been exciting, of course. you knew that yujin was the love of your life and that you would be the luckiest girl in the world to be her wife, but there has always been this tiny little voice in your mucked-up brain that is always telling you things you didn’t want to be true… and yet they might be.

that you might not be enough for yujin.

that you’re nothing but a problem to yujin.

that somebody else was better for yujin.

that you are not at all loved by yujin.

for a while, you blocked this voice out because not only did yujin make sure that you know that she loves you, she made you feel it. whether it was from her kisses, her touch, her thoughtful gifts, the meals she cooked for you, the late night drives she always takes you on every other friday, and even from the way she simply looked at you; you could feel every single drop of the love she held for you, and there was a lot. however, you hadn’t been able to shake the voice off for a while now and it didn’t help that you and yujin hadn’t seen each other for quite some time due to both of you being abnormally busy.

you always hated doubting yujin, but it wasn’t your fault. between the weeks you’ve been apart, the less-than-thirty-minutes calls on yujin’s breaks, and every text where yujin tells you that she can’t spend the night with you, it was easy to believe that she might be pulling away. something you hated even more than doubting your girlfriend is asking yourself the ‘what if?’ questions: “what if i’m bothering her?”, “what if i’m distracting her?”, “what if she’s come to hate me?”, “what if she met someone else?”, and the worst of it all, “what if she’s falling out of love?”

ridiculous and stupid to think about, let alone even entertain the thought. but that damn voice…

that damn voice has led you to barely eating breakfast before you left for work today. it led you to perform your tasks poorly at work, but you were lucky that your new boss (the old one, the asshole, was fired a few years ago for verbally abusing his employees)  was understanding and kind and let it all slide. it led you to skipping lunch completely, making you work for nine hours straight with barely any breaks. it led you to collapsing on your bed after you’d gotten home, sobbing pathetically into your pillow when you realized that yujin hasn’t sent you a single text today at all.

shit, what if the voice was right?

you fell asleep in your bed crying that night, in your work clothes and all. you had a dreamless sleep, but it wasn’t the kind of dreamless that was comforting or funny in a way you could make fun of it for being nothing. it was the kind that weighed heavily in your heart when you woke up and didn’t see your girlfriend snoring right beside you. and not even in your dreams did you get a chance to see her. how cruel.

you could barely get yourself to stand up and make a small breakfast—you knew yujin wouldn’t like it if she caught you skipping your meals. and right after that, you dragged your feet in the bathroom and had the saddest shower of your life. at least you didn’t have to cry all that much in there. it was pure silence from your end, with only the sound of the water running and the faint noises of the television in your room accompanying you while you washed yourself. you couldn’t remember the last time you had taken a shower with your girlfriend, it was always one of your favorite things to do with her but only because you liked the way she would insist on washing your hair and how she would smile so brightly when you agreed.

ah, great. now you miss her even more.

you couldn’t bring yourself to do much after that shower. you bundled yourself up with blankets and stared blankly at the television, waiting until another day without yujin passes. much to your annoyance, time was moving a lot slower than usual. as if the universe wanted to shove it in your face that you’re spending all this time alone. you think your phone buzzed a few times, but you didn’t even have the energy to turn your head and look at it. instead, your mind wanders to the possibility that it was anyone but yujin that was trying to contact you, and that just made your heart waver.

you let yourself wallow in your own sadness in the darkness of your room, crying softly and quietly. maybe if you disappear underneath all of your pillows and blankets then yujin will finally forget about you. would she say “good riddance”? you hated that thought, but you wouldn’t blame yujin if that was how she felt. soon enough, you’ve completely lost your sense of time. your eyes hurt from crying, your head throbbed with so much pain that you wanted to get medicine just to get it to shut up but you couldn’t be bothered to move an inch from where you were, and your entire body aches from having been in the same position for hours.

you begged the earth to swallow you whole, but not before erasing the memory of your existence from everyone’s minds completely just to spare yujin the pain of losing someone she loves. loved.

it was getting hard to keep your eyes open, especially when all you’ve been doing was cry your heart out. despite everything, you were afraid of what your fragile mind would do once you wake up without yujin by your side again. she never even liked it when you got something as small as a papercut. you can’t imagine how she would react if…

god, what were you thinking? how did you get here? is this really going to be your life whenever yujin wasn’t around to help you keep your demons at bay? you are stronger than this. you know that better than anyone. better than what they all give you credit for. get up. you repeated those two words like a prayer in your head until your body cooperated with you—sitting up and leaning your back against the headboard. good job. you took that untouched glass of water from the night table and took one big sip. that’s even better. small steps for others, but very big for you. it was enough for you to decide to not allow your mind to wander and focus on something. you wouldn’t feel any better (it was never that quick), but at least you wouldn’t be thinking about such horrible things.

and when you started getting lost in the cooking show that was playing on the television, it was impossible for you to hear the door to your dingy apartment creak open.

ahn yujin was home. finally. she could drop to her knees and cry right at your adorable ‘welcome’ mat by the door. your scent was all over your apartment and it was enough to immediately relieve the young celebrity of all of her worries and stress. she had been hoping to find you scuttling about in your kitchen since you loved reading your cookbooks there and checking if you had the correct ingredients for a dish or dessert you want to whip up impulsively, and as soon as yujin spotted you, she would’ve jumped into your arms and kiss you until you were sick of her lips on your skin. she missed you so much and all she wanted to do was be with you and celebrate the collection of good news that she has for you… but even before seeing pretty much all the lights in your apartment turned off, yujin knew something was horribly wrong.

yujin had been busy the whole day. from filming for variety shows, brand photoshoots, and magazine interviews, she didn’t have much time to do anything else. she had all the energy for it though but not because she just so happened to love her job, but she also knew that after all of it was over, she could finally go home to the love of all her lives and do everything she has been wanting to do with her without interruptions. as soon as she changed out of her work clothes and got her makeup off, yujin texted you. she told you she missed you, asked you to get ready ahead of time because she was going to pick you up and take you out on a short drive around the city before sitting down for a romantic dinner with a breathtaking view of the sunset in her friend’s fancy restaurant.

but you never replied to her messages. you didn’t even see them. that was the first sign and truthfully, it was all yujin needed to know. yujin knew you wouldn’t be doing much today so surely you would have at least tried to look at her messages even if you were occupied with something. rather than getting pouty about it, yujin was instead really worried. what if you were angry with her because she hasn’t been with you for so long? she couldn’t imagine someone so mature like you would get mad at something she can’t control and you have been apart from each other like this before and there weren’t any problems then! but… maybe that was just what you made it look like so yujin wouldn’t have to lose her head thinking about your well-being.

which would be insane, by the way. yujin believes that she isn’t the smartest person alive, but she should know when the woman closest to her heart is having a hard time. she should… and somehow she managed to not. yujin stands frozen in the cold kitchen, realizing that all this time, you were probably just putting up a strong front for her. and every day she was gone, you were dealing with things she should’ve been helping you with instead of just leaving it all for until she comes back home to you. fuck.

panic rises in yujin when she doesn’t see the lights turned on in the vacant bedroom either. if you weren’t trying to cook or waiting for yujin in the living room while getting some reading done, you would be in that bedroom working. so now yujin knows that you were holed up in your bedroom, and that alone was enough to send her running all the way to the other side of your small apartment, ready to burst through your door… until she gets a hold of herself. she prayed to the gods that you were okay, and that you were unharmed. she could hear the faint, muffled sounds of your favorite cooking show inside but you weren’t laughing.

an eerily silent (y/n) was never a good sign. slowly, yujin turned the knob and opened the door. she finds her heart breaking in two when she sees you curled up in your bed. you were barely even watching the show. between the half empty glass of water in the night table, your dirty work clothes in disarray on the carpeted floor, your adorable and fluffy panda indoor slippers haphazardly shoved underneath your bed, and the fucking pitiful state that you were in, it didn’t take yujin a split second to even know that it was definitely one of those days for you… but so much worse than what she was used to seeing.

“(y/n), honey…?”

yujin doesn’t wait for a response. she sits on the small empty spot beside you as you weakly and slowly turn around to face her. you looked exhausted. your eyes were red, puffy, and half-lidded which yujin assumes were from crying. she hated that she hadn’t been with you throughout all of this, as in at all. when she was gone, she could barely message and call you and even when she got home, she would still be occupied with something work-related or she would be too exhausted to do anything else. she needed to make it up to you. she has to. starting now.

“i’m home,” yujin brushes your hair away from your face. she leans down and gives you a kiss on the forehead, and she stays still for a few seconds to truly savor the moment of being back in your presence after such a long time. she felt safe, she was at peace. away from the cameras, the lights, and the fake smiles. now she has to return the favor. “i’m sorry i took so long…” yujin lays in bed with you, taking your figure into her arms and allowing you to melt into her after weeks too long. yujin fully expected you to cry and break down, and she truly would have just let you while pouring all of her love to you… but you were damn near silent.

there was no way you were angry. if you were, you wouldn’t even hug yujin nor would you let her come near you at all. you nestled your face comfortably on her chest, holding her like you don’t even want her to think of going anywhere else. not even a few minutes since yujin joined you and the two of you were already a mess of tangled limbs in your bed due to how close you held onto her—it was enough proof of just how much you missed her. if it hadn’t been for the fact that the television was on, yujin wouldn’t have been able to see the deep solemn look in your eyes as you looked up at her. the silence weighed heavily in the air; both of you had things to say to each other but there was so much that neither of you knew where to start.

however, now that she was in your arms, you had no problem just going back to hiding your face in the crook of her neck and just appreciating how you didn’t have to go even longer without her. yujin didn’t dare to complain, of course. whatever you thought you needed, she would happily give you and if silently cuddling was just that, then so be it. you stayed like that for a whole half hour, only occasionally raising your head to look at yujin as if not looking at her for too long would make her disappear suddenly. but no, yujin has been away from you for too long that at this point she doesn’t even want to leave your side ever again.

“i thought you’d forget about me.”

you spoke so suddenly and that yujin thought she must’ve imagined it. she feels you clutch her shirt tightly, and what she doesn’t know is that you were fighting back your tears. you wanted to celebrate having your girlfriend back, of course, but your sadness managed to beat your delight for once. this time, you couldn’t stop your fears from showing and as much as you didn’t want yujin to lose her head comforting you, you also just needed her to tell you that it was all going to be okay.

meanwhile, yujin couldn’t believe what she was hearing. she hoped that you wouldn’t take her silence the wrong way; she was only processing your question in her head to make sure that did hear it correctly. forget you?

“that’s impossible. why would i?” she was quite offended by the question, actually. but that was something she’ll make fun of another day.

“i thought that perhaps being around other successful, accomplished people could wake you up and make you see that… that i’m worthless compared to all of them,” you refused to meet yujin’s eyes as you spoke. you knew you would just break into tears and nothing would be solved. “that’s what everybody used to say… remember? during the first few months after our relationship got leaked to the public. a ‘normie’ dating ahn yujin… i was afraid you’d start to think that way too after being gone for so long.” 

that indeed was quite the dark time. yujin fought tooth and nail to tell everyone that you were worthy of her and if anything, she was the lucky one in this relationship because you’re so perfect in her eyes. she got scolded by her management for being unprofessional when she got worked up on live television about it all but it was worth it making those rude entertainers shut up and avoid her gaze for the rest of filming. not one person dared to speak ill about you around yujin ever again after that, not even in online articles and gossip sites! especially after they saw how inexplicably happy she was to be with you. 

yujin thought you could see that, too. she smiled the biggest when she was with you, laughed the loudest, and shined the brightest too. so hearing you say all of this… well, to say that yujin was in disbelief would be an understatement.

“(y/n)... you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. what more could i ask for than meeting and falling in love with the most amazing girl in the world?” yujin hoped that this would be enough to ease your worries enough that you could finally look her in the eye, but instead you let go of her and rolled to your other side—away from her. any other day those words would’ve been enough to make you smile and tease yujin for being such a cornball despite the seriousness of the situation… but today, you cried instead. 

yujin, however, doesn’t miss a beat. she wraps her arms around your waist and kisses your shoulder, “i love you. no matter what you think—i love you.” she spoke every word with conviction. her tone strong enough for you to not only accept her words but absorb it in every fiber of your being. yujin holds you tightly as you cried in her arms, whispering words of affirmation here and there while also peppering your shoulders, neck, and ear with her soft kisses. she wouldn’t even care if this was what the two of you did for the rest of the day, just as long as she gets to see you smile and be yourself again. 

for yujin, that was when you were the most beautiful—being happy and unapologetically you.

neither of you bothered to keep track of how long you were in that position, but you did eventually stop crying. the television kept on playing its shows, the sun had started to set outside your closed blinds, and yujin was finally starting to feel all the work she’d done in the day catch up to her body. she had assumed that you’ve fallen asleep with how quiet and still you’ve gotten… but then you finally faced her again. this time, you were staring right in her eyes. and as if this was the first time you’ve done it, yujin’s heart skips a beat.

“i missed you so much… i couldn’t spend another day without you.” you told her in a weak, raspy voice.

yujin smiles, “me too. i’m so happy i get to be here, finally...” she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. she takes her time to get familiar with your features once again, all while unknowingly leaning closer and closer to you. you close your eyes, waiting for what you have been needing for the longest time, until yujin gets a hold of her senses and finally puts her lips on yours. it might have been the softest kiss you’ve shared with her as yujin was careful with the way her lips moved against yours. but even a kiss as heavenly as this was enough to fill your heart with flowers… so when yujin slowly makes her way on top of you whilst her kisses get hungrier, your stomach was a storm of butterflies.

you started to unbutton her loose casual dress shirt, an act that mildly upset you since yujin looked so handsome in it… but she looked better with it off, and you needed to feel her skin on yours. once you’ve dropped the shirt on the floor beside your bed, your hands glide down yujin’s back with your heart beating erratically at the feeling of her muscles beneath your fingertips. yujin slots a knee in between your legs and thank goodness for that actually—the buzz in your core was not going to go away by itself, after all.

yujin’s lips were now on your neck, eager to leave a mark on every inch of your skin tht was visible while pressing her knee against your clothed pussy. you moaned, your pretty voice making yujin’s ears tingle and raising her excitement enough to slide a hand inside your shirt and cup your bare boob. you started to slowly grind against her knee, sighing blissfully at the feeling. you weren’t a big fan of… playing with yourself to satisfy your needs if yujin just so happened to be gone. her hands always knew you so much better than you did yourself. because not only did she know your heart, but she knew your body too. knew exactly which spots to hit, which part of your skin to suck on to get the most noises out of you, and how you like it all best. 

when you moan again after yujin brushes a finger across your hardened nipple, she raises her head with fear in her irises. “t-this… probably isn’t the right time for this, isn’t it? god… i’m sorry, baby, i-i went overboard… i just wanted to kiss you but… i couldn’t resist touching you too…” yujin says with those adorable puppy eyes. always have to be such a gentlewoman, this one. it was one of your main reasons for falling in love with her as that aspect of her made her so much more charming in your eyes.

as soon as you feel her moving her hand away, you stop her. “this is the perfect time, hon. i missed you… and right now, all i want is your hands on me.” you trap her knee in between your legs and press harder against it, showing yujin just how much you wanted her to touch you.

yujin was still uncertain about it all, however. “a-are you sure? we don’t have to if you’re not feeling we—”

“yujin,” you said sternly. you took her face in your hands and kissed her nose, finally smiling at her. yujin feels her heart making a mess inside her ribcage. “believe me. i’m sure.” after six whole years of dating, you still manage to make it feel like she was falling in love at first sight all over again. you’ve both grown as people since your little meet-cute, of course, but to yujin, you will always be that beautiful girl on the steps of that dingy building with the prettiest pair of eyes yujin has ever seen. and so with your confirmation, yujin was no longer hesitant to grab the hem of your shirt and pull it over your head.

she was touching you in a way that reminded you of your first intimate night together all those years ago. nervous touches, and even more nervous kisses. even the way yujin was adamant to take things as slowly and steadily as possible was the same. you didn’t complain, though. as much as you wanted your girlfriend to get it going already, you also wanted to savor this moment and make the night last. judging by how yujin hasn’t told you any devastating news about her schedule staying busy yet, you figured that the two of you now have all the time in the world to be together… so hell, why not take your time?

yujin places her hands on your hips as she sits up, opting to stare at you and ogle at your perfect body for seconds too long. she was just as desperate to feel you as you were desperate for her to show you how much she missed you, but her disciplined hands kept her from doing anything too rash. it was adorable—how glaringly obvious it was that yujin just wanted to rip your clothes off and take you however she wants to, but being the sweetheart she is, she acts according to your wants and needs. she then went on to unbutton and unzip your jean shorts, but she doesn’t pull it off of you. she slides her hand underneath the waistband of your panties and moans at the feeling of your bare cunt on her fingers.

“mmhn… i missed touching you… you have no idea how many times i wanted to walk out of a set to go home to you, and listen to something so much more pleasant than a director telling me how to do my job,” yujin parts your lips with two of her fingers and uses a third to slowly feel up your slit. you were drenched already. obviously you’ve wanted this for such a long time that no one can blame you for getting wet so easily. “do you know what that is, darling?” yujin asks. she lowers herself to your chest and gives your nipple a scrutinizingly slow lick before catching it in her warm mouth.

you were too focused on the feeling to answer her question. your hand digs through yujin’s hair, gripping it and pushing her head closer while simultaneously grinding your hips faster on her hand. yujin dips two fingers inside of your pussy but stops there, opening her eyes and letting go of your nipple, “your voice. let me hear you.” she finally shoves both fingers inside your cunt, relishing in the way you arched your back and allowed your beautiful voice to invade her ears.

you were tight around her fingers, as always. it was just how yujin liked it. something about how her fingers can’t always move in and out smoothly because your walls loved to just suck her in always made her embarrassingly wet. her next favorite thing was watching you as she fucked you; your pretty face making all sorts of expressions at every thrust and every brush of her thumb against your clit just scratched the right parts in yujin’s brain. she can’t help but want more, and more she will certainly take. yujin feels horrible about not being there enough for you during such a hard time… she should’ve figured that leaving you alone with barely anything to distract you would’ve hurt you the way it did.

“i should’ve called more… i should’ve ignored all the risks of my manager nagging at me and visited you, even just for a short while…” yujin peppers your chest with kisses as her pace increases. you couldn’t even be bothered to say anything to her—not when you were overwhelmed with how good she filled you up with only two fingers. every time her palm slammed against your wrist with how hard she was fucking you now, all the embarrassing whines and moans you tried holding back were free to be heard… but it turns out that yujin loved it all so much so there was nothing to be shy about at all.

so you stopped being self-conscious about it all, allowing all of the sinful noises to come out of your mouth just as yujin liked it. while you were busy getting lost in the pleasure, yujin had lowered herself enough to be kissing your stomach. pure desire radiated from her dark eyes, and you didn’t even notice that she had pulled off both your shorts and panties from your body until you could feel her hot breath fanning against your pussy. she pulls her fingers out, but quickly replaces the void inside you with her tongue. she knew that you were the weakest when she used her mouth on you so she was quick to intertwine your fingers to keep you grounded and focused on all of the feelings she was giving you without being too overwhelmed by it all.

“ahh.. mmn… you must’ve missed this too, huh, baby?” yujin opens her eyes and looks up at you with a grin. you were already making quite the mess on her face, but really, that wasn’t entirely your fault. yujin liked it messy, and if she could, she would make you cum to the point of showering herself in your juices but she wanted to take it easy tonight. for you, of course. between you covering your face with your arm, your chest heaving up and down from you taking deep breaths, and your grip on yujin’s hand getting tighter by the second, it was all enough for yujin to keep doing what she does best.

she ate you out like it was her first and last time, too. humming and moaning in approval while she was either deep inside your walls with her tongue or as she sucked on your sensitive clit. the latter action made your legs shake and grab yujin’s hair, not caring about her seeing all the faces you were going to make the longer she went about using her tongue on the hard bud. she put one hand on your inner thigh and pushed it back, opening your legs up even more for an easier time and actually ending up digging her nails on your skin with how hard you were gripping her scalp. she liked the pain and you were going crazy over the pleasure she gave you; it was a win-win!

every time you whined her name, it only adds to yujin’s ever-growing need to give you the best orgasm you’ve had in a while. or even ever. “god… you’re so fucking pretty. i must’ve… heh.. saved the fucking planet in another life or something… or else it doesn’t make sense how i just so happened to meet a goddess in this lifetime…” yujin smiles at you as she says this, giggling at how you blushed wildly and looked away. yujin believed in her heart that you were the most beautiful girl she would ever meet in her life—you just happened to be too humble to accept the alleged ‘facts’ that your lovely girlfriend believed.

deciding that you probably can’t take anymore teasing, yujin presses her thumb on your clit and pushes her tongue back inside you. she proceeds on rubbing your clit harshly, wincing slightly as you were starting to hurt her with your nails on her scalp. the noises that you released gave yujin nothing short of ecstasy, only encouraging her to be better, go deeper, until you finally, finally let go of yourself on her tongue. delicious. yujin keeps her lips on your pussy as you cum, slurping up your juices as best as she can, yet never having enough to actually get herself to stop.

it was a few minutes after you’ve come down from your high and yujin was giving your exhausted cunt the tiniest of licks that she heard something new. something she hadn’t heard before when the two of you got intimate like this. she missed a few others as the sound of her sucking up your wetness with so much hunger and desperation toppled over literally every other noise, but yujin was sure that she didn’t mistake that noise when she did finally hear it. a soft, tiny sob… coming from you.

you’ve been crying, and yujin had been unaware. “oh, no… i’m so sorry, honey. i-i didn’t think—did i hurt you?” yujin immediately takes you in her arms, remembering that it was the place where you felt safest. she immediately regretted going overboard when she did. how could she forget that you weren’t in the right state of mind to entertain her gimmicks? fuck, she felt beyond heartbroken to be the cause of your tears right now when she was supposed to be the very person that made them go away.

“no… no, i’m okay,” you said in tears. once you looked at yujin whose cute face was all scrunched up with worry, you ended up laughing. yujin was so confused. “i promise. you didn’t hurt me, yujin-ah.” you squeezed her shoulder and giggled even more, making yujin laugh in return but in a more… nervous and uncertain way.

“w-wha… are you sure? why are you crying then?” yujin couldn’t help her smile and hug you, rocking you back and forth out of relief. how could yujin ever hurt you, anyway? you knew in your heart that she wasn’t capable of any of that, ever.

“i don’t know… but i’m alright, i swear.” you reached up and kissed her nose. giggles erupt from the two of you when yujin starts attacking your face with kisses—it was all part of her master plan to hear more of your laugh, of course. one of the biggest things she has been missing throughout the weeks she was away. 

eventually, the two of you merely laid still on your bed in each other’s arms once again, staring blankly at the television. you’ve started to feel sleepy too since you did spend a lot of the day crying, and now yujin was threading your soft locks after she fucked you so good that you ended up crying! no wonder you were drowsy. you found yourself laying on top of your girlfriend’s chest, fighting back sleep by blinking it all away and opting to stare at yujin’s face instead. every time she asked you a question (“do you need water?”, “are you cold?”, “should we take a shower together?”) you replied with a lazy hum and weak shake of your head, neither accepting or denying whatever she offered you.

“you look tired, hon… you can take a nap. when you wake up, i’ll either have cooked you dinner or… um, i’ll have ordered our favorite take-out! how do you feel about japanese food tonight?” yujin asks. you hum again, but refuse to fully close your eyes. you opened them every few seconds, seemingly checking if yujin was still there every time you did. of course, yujin notices your intent and pinches your cheek. “i’ll be right here when you wake up. don’t worry.” yujin plants a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“mm… promise?” you pouted. gosh, you were far too cute for yujin’s weak heart.

“of course. we won’t have to worry about running out of time for a while.” yujin pulls a soft, thick blanket over your body and smiles as you immediately start drifting off. she kisses your forehead again, feeling a sudden surge of pure love washing over her as the feeling of having you sleep in her arms again was… home. yujin’s smile widened when she remembered just what she intended to surprise you with if you had seen her message and went with her to that romantic dinner with the sunset.

it was a surprise that she would have to wait another day to unveil—a surprise that came in the form of a breathtaking diamond ring that would’ve completed the beautiful picture that is your love story.

[myfictionaldreams]

Winter Soup // Mafia!Stucky x F!Reader

Summary: There was no better feeling than a bowl of hot soup when you're feeling unwell and, what's even better is when it's delivered to your door every day by your new guard. It tasted amazing and you could always trust everyone in the Mafia... right?

Requested by: @senjoritanana​​ thank you so much, I hope you enjoy all the angst!

A/N: PSA I don't know the specifics of how poisons work and didn't want to risk it on my google history lmao so please ignore any inaccuracies. Please read the tags if you're affected by near death experiences, please proceed with caution and if I've missed any tags/warnings, please let me know!

Warnings/Tags: 18+ readers only, hints of smut, angst (LOTS BUCKLE UP), fluff, polyamory relationship, poisoning, blood and injury, anxiety, crying, begging, near death expierences, reader is injured, pain, emotional hurt/comfort, hospitalization, protective Steve Bucky and Sam, everyone needs a hug tbh

Words: 7.7k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The warmer months were slowly starting to shift into winter and for some reason this year, the weather change was beginning to affect your health. You’d heard of the phrase ‘seasonal depression’ but you were convinced that it was due to the cooler weather that was making you feel this rubbish.

It had been happening for a week now, and some days you’d feel fine, normal in fact but then others your chest felt so tight as if an elephant was sitting on top of you, nausea, vertigo and heart palpations that would have you clutching your chest with fear you might explode. With each passing day, you would be praying for the summer months to return, especially as the snow and ice increased with intensity outside of your home.

You were fine for the most part, good days and bad; yes you might be getting worse with each passing day but you were adamant that the seasonal illness would pass. However, the frosty weather was also a minor blessing because it was your excuse to stay home and be a pretty housewife for Steve and Bucky. Being able to stay home made it easier to keep the illness to yourself as well, it was a busy time within the Rogers mafia and you didn’t need them wasting their time fretting over your wellness when they had a lot of other things to do. They had many international deals that were so close to being signed for and contracted that every waking hour was spent at the office, on phone calls, and emails, trying to talk to locals across the world to attend meetings on their behalf so the boys were thoroughly busy.

There were a few occasions you’d attended with them to the office if you were feeling particularly needy or lonely but it unnerved you to drive on the snow and ice so when you suggested that you might stay at home, Steve and Bucky offered no complaints.

At home at least you were able to mop about, trying to perk yourself up with movies, pyjamas and your favourite bowl of warm soup. Over the last few months, you’d been trying to improve your cooking skills, especially to impress Steve who usually cooked for three of you. This became more interesting as the colder months drew in over Brooklyn as this meant you could cook more homely, hearty foods such as soups and stews, especially as you had recipe suggestions from the newly hired grounds guard Rafael.

He’d been recommended by a friend of a friend for Steve to hire which was perfect timing because the last grounds guard had retired. There were a few occasions when he was the guard to bring the post to the front door from the front gate and you soon found he was enthusiastic and easy to talk to, even though he was a little bit older, which was how you found out he had previously been a chef and offered to give you recipe ideas. As winter drew in, Rafael began turning up when he knew you were by yourself to deliver some of his momma’s family recipe soups, hoping that the meal would perk you up which it did, they tasted so delicious that you were secretly hoping he would keep bringing them to you, especially as you continued to feel unwell.

“What is it today?”, you asked voice full of hope and trying to sound as upbeat as possible. Even though you were desperately holding onto the door handle as your head was spinning and scared you’d fall over.

“Potato and leek soup and they’re all grown in my back yard so hopefully you’ll love it even more than usual”, Rafael smiled as he handed over the container, his smile broad and causing the aged creases at the corner of his eyes to deepen.

Gleefully you accepted the soup, opening the lid slightly to smell the delicious meal, your stomach grumbling with hunger. Your appetite had reduced significantly over the last few days due to always feeling nauseous however it seemed the only thing that you could stomach was his delicious meals and therefore his arrival was always welcomed.

“Thank you so much! Please will you let me pay you this time? You’re being way too kind to me, always giving me free meals, you’re going above and beyond a usual guard”, you pleaded whilst also having to return holding onto the door handle as it felt like the ground was moving with your dizziness.

Rafael held up his hands and shook his head, taking a step back, “Absolutely not! Just wanted to give you something to make you feel better and make the fairies go away”.

The guard halted, a look of embarrassment passing out his features as he realised what he just said, especially as you asked, “Fairies?”

He awkwardly looked down at his shoes, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to explain, “Yeah it’s just something my momma use to say. If we were feeling unwell, it’s because the fairies had crept into our stomachs and were being naughty and making us ill and now I’ve said it out loud to another person I’ve realised how insane that sounds so I’m going to stop talking”.

You squeezed your lips together to try and contain your laughter but that lasted a moment before you were both laughing which only turned into you losing your balance against the door and swaying to keep yourself upright. The laughter died in Rafael’s eyes as he reached out to you, “Woah, you ok, Ma’am?”

Quickly brushing him off, you took a step back into your home, trying to ask nonchalantly about the situation, “Yeah sorry, probably just the fairies pushing me over”. Your joke didn’t seem to comfort him in any way as he continued to look uneased by your appearance.

Thankfully Rafael didn’t push the situation any further, seeing that you wanted to escape back into the comfort of your home, he took his step back with a simple smile. “Get back inside before you catch another cold from this snow. Eat the soup whilst it’s still warm and I’ll be back tomorrow to hear the verdict on the taste.”

“Thank you Rafael! Enjoy the rest of your day!”. You waved him off and rushed to slam the door, sliding down to the floor against the wood, losing all energy that you’d built that morning just for that one conversation. Ok yes, you were feeling sorry for yourself as you tried to catch your breath, heart pounding violently in your chest that it also echoed in your ears and your vision was still seeing double of everything.

However your stomach continued to gurgle with hunger so without wasting any more energy, you opened the lid and ate the entire contents then and there. Releasing a satisfied sigh at the delicious meal, you took another couple of minutes to gather your senses before dragging yourself over to the living room, collapsing onto your back on the couch and letting sleep take you into a dreamless realm.

A violent shake of your shoulders by a hard grip on your shoulder was what startled you awake as Sam’s voice then surrounded you as he shouted, “Hey! Wake up!”.

“I think this is the first time I’ve ever been close to hating you Sam Wilson”, you croaked before coughs shattered your chest, rocking your body as you tried to sit up and suck in any air between the painful coughs. Finally, you calmed down enough to collapse back against the decorative cushions of the couch and open your eyes to look at the three Sam’s that hovered over you. After a couple more blinks, they merged into one, very distressed-looking bodyguard, eyebrows knitted together and jaw muscle clenched harshly.

Sam reached towards your face, pressing against your cheek in concern, “Why didn’t you tell me you were ill?”

“What? I’m not ill, I’m just tired, can’t a girl nap around here?” you questioned with a raised eyebrow, trying to look as relaxed as possible. 

The man didn’t look convinced as he sat on the edge of the couch next to you. Releasing a heavy sigh which only twinged something in your chest that made you want to cough but you refrained from doing so as you emphasised, “Sam seriously, I’m fine”.

Sam gave you another serious glance, eyes hardening as he explained, “You didn’t sound fine, you were wheezing so hard in your sleep I thought you were going to stop breathing”.

There was no denying the panic that filled your heart and would explain the tightened feeling in your chest but you tried to not let the fear show on your face as you rolled your eyes, reaching for his hand and squeezing it.

“I appreciate your concern Sam, but I feel ok, I’m just tired, I was probably just sleeping in a weird position and look, no wheeze now!” Taking a deep breath to show there was no more noise coming from your chest, however, it didn’t seem to comfort him in any way.

“Yeah well you’re still looking peaky and why are you so tired all the time recently, you’re never usually like this”.

“It’s probably just the cold weather or something. If I start to feel unwell, you know I’d tell you. I’m a big baby when I’m ill, you’ll be the first to know”. Sam looked to be contemplating believing you and all you were silently begging for was that he didn’t call Steve and Bucky, they just didn’t need this stress right now. Even though it was in his contract to call them at any sign of injury or illness but as Sam looked at you, other than looking tired, you seemed to be fine and still joking with him. Finally, he gave you a simple nod and you couldn't hold back the thankful sigh. “Do you mind if I go back to sleep for a little while longer or do you need me for anything?”

“You’ve been sleeping a lot recently”, he stated his earlier point again.

“What, so I’m not allowed to nap now?” you teased him with a subtle smile, hoping to crack his worried exterior. It only half worked as he shook his head to himself, standing up and pulling the fluffy blanket that had been left behind you on the couch and throwing it over your body. Before you could even thank him though, sleep had stolen you back into its resting state. 

Sleeping for a few more hours, Sam was nowhere to be seen but he usually liked to check the perimeter ever so often and speak to the other guards so you weren’t worried about his whereabouts. As you shuffled to the kitchen, you couldn’t tell if you felt any worse or better after all the sleeping, haven’t wasted another day feeling sorry for yourself, you tried to snap out of it by glancing through the refrigerator and cupboards and deciding to ssurpriseSteve and Bucky with a romantic meal.

The house was soon filled with delicious scents of sweet and savoury as you’d baked and were in the process of cooking their dinner. You were in your own little world and had only stumbled a handful of times with dizziness and the headache that was building was currently mild in comparison to others you had, it was fine you determined to yourself

Still lost in your own thoughts, you hadn’t even heard the front door open as you were suddenly enveloped by a muscular chest and arms, a smile aching your cheeks as you nuzzled back into Steve’s body. His lips danced over your cheek and down your neck as he held you close, the roughness of his beard comforting. “I didn’t hear you come in”, you commented, turning your head slightly to chase after his lips, sighing deeply in your chest as he held you tighter for a second, hands dipping beneath your shirt at your waist so that he could feel the warmth of your skin.

“I did shout”, he revealed whilst moving back to neck, not to kiss but just to smell you in, his body almost melting into the floor as he felt at home with the familiar scents. “I’ve missed you”, he whispered against your skin.

Goosebumps instantly flooded over your body as you shivered, turning in his arms to hug him properly, your fingers scratching through his hair that was beginning to curl at the ends where he’d allowed it to grow out over the winter months. “I’ve missed you too”, you whispered against his lips, lazily kissing and breathing each other in.

“Come with us tomorrow, I want you to be near me”, he admits with words that were making you cling to him harder.

You wanted to say yes and the word was on the tip of your tongue but then your thoughts drifted to the soup coming. “I’ve got a delivery coming that I can’t miss, I’m sorry”.

“The guards can get the delivery”, he counters.

“It’s fresh soup I want it whilst it’s hot”, an embarrassed smile finds its way to your lips as he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he just enjoyed the moment of the two of you being together.

“Soup? But we could order that to the office if you wanted it, you know that’s no issue”. 

You pout dramatically, hanging off his neck as you whisper with a childish tone, “But it won’t be the soup that I’ve ordered and want”.

Steve rolls his eyes but you know he's being playful, he could never find a reason to be upset with you. Rolling back his shoulders, he stands back to his full height, opening his eyes to cup your cheek with his massive hand but this was when he took you in and a frown dawned on his face just like it had on Sam’s. “Are you feeling ok?” The hand on your cheek moved towards your forehead, expecting to feel a temperature but it felt normal.

“I feel great”, you say with as much cheer in your tone as possible, still holding onto his neck but mostly because another wave of dizziness had rushed through you and you needed some support to stay standing.

Steve didn’t seem convinced, “You just … look a little off”.

You playfully rolled your eyes, similar to how he had just done, “Wow thanks Steve”.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that”.

“I know, I’m joking, I’m fine - really, it's nothing to worry about”. He eyes you and doesn’t fall for your grin so you tried your next trick up your sleeve. Leaning on your tip toes whilst pulling his face closer, you whispered against his lips, “I love you, Stevie”.

The tension momentarily eased from his shoulders as his grip around you tightened, “I love you too”.

“Sorry to interrupt your love fest but I want my own loving”, Bucky broadly announced from the entrance of the kitchen where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, a twinkle of mischief in his blue eyes however as you pulled back from Steve and he could finally see your face, the happiness seeped from his face. “Woah, what happened? Are you ok?”

You gave a frustrated huff, finally releasing Steve’s neck as you pointed in the direction of the decorated table. “Right, both of you go and sit down before I decide you don’t deserve any food for being mean”.

Steve shuffled away first as you continued to cook the food, Bucky looking ashamed as he came over and kissed your cheek but before he could pull away, you quickly captured his lips in a kiss to show you’d been playing before and weren’t upset.

“Why are there only two plates on the table?”  Steve questioned as he took a seat.

Without looking over your shoulder at him, you casually answered, “I’ve already had mine, I wasn’t sure when you were both going to be home and I didn’t want to wait”. They both seemed to accept your lie and you happily sat with them as they ate, asking about how the deals were going. They both seemed to be agreed that they were sure to have contracts signed tomorrow and had even been able to pay off some of the international police so that shipping of the goods could occur. In truth, after the soup, you were not feeling at all remotely hungry and even the smell of the cooked food had turned your stomach over.

A couple of hours later, the three of you were preparing for bed. Steve is in the middle and you are to his right and Bucky is to his left. You and the mafia boss had been kissing deeply for a couple of minutes, his hands beneath your shirt, brushing against your breasts, rough fingertips peaking your nipples as you ground down on his thigh. You were soaked and he could feel the evidence of it as you weren’t wearing any underwear but the longer the touches and kisses went on for, the more you were feeling unwell.

As his teeth tugged on your bottom lip and he began to trail open-mouthed kisses over your jaw and down your throat, you noticed Bucky was doing the same thing but to Steve’s neck from behind. However, there were two Bucky’s instead of one as your vision swayed and it felt as if you were on a water bed with how unsteady you felt. The headache was close to a full-blown migraine as well now which only continued to make you feel nauseous so even though there was nothing more you wanted than to continue where this intimacy was leading but, for once, you had to stop it.

“Wait, just- just one moment”, you pushed against Steve's shoulders at the same time. The blonde's hold on you loosened as he moved his face back to look into your eyes but you’d closed them, trying to hide your face from him and Bucky who had also sat up further to check on you. “I just- sorry I’m tired and I… I’m not sure- sorry.. I don’t think-”.

Steve’s fingers tipped your chin up to look at him as he smiled softly down at you, “If you don’t want to do anything, we don’t have to. If you’re tired then I’ll just hold you close, ok? Please don’t apologise for not wanting any of this”.

You relaxed in his arms, feeling grateful for him but also bad that you could feel how aroused he was against your stomach. “Thank you. I’m just feeling so tired today. Please don’t let me stop you both, continue without me, I just want to go to sleep”.

“You don’t have to give us reasons why you don’t want to do it, baby, we’ll do whatever you want to do. Me and Buck don’t have to fuck if you want to be held, I don’t want you thinking we’re neglecting you”.

Affection and love warmed your heart as you kissed Steve’s lips and then reached over his shoulder to kiss Bucky. “I love you both but seriously please continue, I like watching you both anyway so that’ll satisfy me enough if I’m not asleep by that point anyway”.

They both gave their love back to you with praises and pecks to your face before rolling away from you and beginning their exploration of each other's bodies. You watched with a smile on your face for a couple of moments and your core ached with need but as a burst of pain pounded through your temple, your eyes shut automatically to help ease the pain and from there, they never opened again as sleep took you soon after.

The next morning, your migraine had gone but your entire body felt weak and drained of any energy. Steve and Bucky took one look at you and determined that they’d be working from home, wishing to remain near you but they still needed the comfort of their home office upstairs whereas you remained downstairs, pretending to watch TV.

Somehow, you had continued to hide your seasonal illness, they just thought you still looked peaky. Today was the worst you’d felt so far, even having to use the wall as support whilst walking around the home, silently coughing into cushions so that the boys wouldn’t hear upstairs and this only increased the sharp pain shooting through your chest.

At lunchtime, Sam came over to visit and found you at the table in the kitchen, head lying against the table top as you dipped in and out of sleep. You were too tired to even pretend to joke and thankfully for once he didn’t pester you with being unwell, especially knowing Steve and Bucky were home, he assumed they had seen how bad you were so he just sat next to you at the table, easing his hand under your head so you had some comfort against the hard surface.

Soon after, Rafael knocked on the front door with your soup delivery. Usually h,e would stay at the door, never coming into your home but Sam insisted that he come out of the cold and deliver the soup to you in person.

“Yay!” you croaked, reaching out for the warm container, seeing the soup within and seeing that it was a deep red colour today, possibly tomato.

“I didn’t know you cooked, Rafael”, Sam noted, taking his seat next to yours once more as the new guard stayed standing at the head of the table. Other than Natasha, Sam was the lead of the security and guards and technically Rafael’s boss.

“Oh yeah, he used to be a chef”, you explained to Sam, whilst opening the lid of the container, smelling the delicious food and confirming your theory that it was tomato soup.

“Chef? I didn’t know you worked as a chef”, Sam remarked with a frown, eyeing Rafael with confusion as he’d been the one to complete the job interview and didn’t remember seeing chef on his CV.

Rafael casually shrugged his shoulders, looking somewhat tense at the questioning but still forced a smile to his face to please his boss. “I didn’t think it was relevant to the job, to be honest”.

“We’ll have to get you on the bbq when the weather perks up, maybe that’ll stop the arguments between Steve and Bucky”, Sam mused over the thought.

You tried to chuckle but the exhaustion had you slumping against the table as you mumbled, “I feel like shit”.

Sam tensed next to you, “Maybe we should call a doctor. You know, I’m surprised Steve and Bucky aren’t down here right now looking after you, do they even know how bad you’re feeling today?”

“Wait, they’re both here?” Rafael asked Sam but he ignored him, his focus solely on you.

Once again you’re too tired to think of an answer and shrug your shoulders, turning your head to look up at Rafael, “I think the fairies like me too much”.

“Fairies?”, Sam questions thinking that you’d become delirious.

You smile genuinely to Sam, reaching to tap his shoulder, “Inside joke Sam, keep up”.

There was no further discussion of fairies as more hacking coughs ripped through you. It took a couple of moments and Sam rushed to get you a glass of water before you slumped back against the table in exhaustion.

“Why don’t you have the soup and then see how you’re feeling later? Maybe the rest is all you need”, Rafael suggested, filling the silence with his voice.

You couldn’t see it but Sam gave his employee a scathing look, “Rest is all she’s been doing. I’m calling the doc and then I’m going upstairs to tell Steve and Bucky”.

“Aren’t they busy?” Rafael continued to question Sam. “I’ve heard they’ve got that deal coming up from Italy and France, they might appreciate it if you wait a little bit before calling Doctors”.

Sam’s voice was quiet and stern but you were too tired to notice. “That’s not common knowledge, how do you know that?”.

Massaging your temples with the pounding thuds that hadn’t stopped since your coughing fit, you decided that Rafael was right, usually sleep made you feel better. Reaching for the soup one more, you opened the container as you addressed your bodyguard, “he’s right Sam. I just need today for all the work stuff to be over and then I’ll call the doctor. The boys don’t need any distractions, especially today, one more day isn’t going to kill me”.

Sam didn’t look happy as you began to idly sip on the thick, delicious soup. As you thanked Rafael for the meal, Sam finally looked back to him, his frown deep and unmoving as he asked, “Don’t you have work to do?”

Rafael’s spine straightened, “Oh yeah, right. Sorry, sir” and with that, he left to return to work.

“You don’t have to be so bossy you know, he’s just trying to help”, you tried to reason with Sam.

However, your friend ignored you and moved to hold your hand to pull your attention away from the meal and towards him. “I’m giving you until the evening, wait no- if you get any worse before the evening, I am calling the Doc, no arguments, understand?”

“Yes sir”, you say with a little salute.

Finishing your soup, your boyfriends finally came downstairs and you attempted to straighten your posture and plaster a fake smile on your face. Bucky paused in the entryway, sniffing the air and asking, “What’s that smell, I know it's from somewhere but can’t put my finger on it”.

“Is it my soup?” you say, trying to stand up and act like the floor was spinning beneath you.

“No, it’s not that”, he pondered, still looking around and trying to smell whatever he recognised but couldn’t pick it up again. Steve and Bucky both walked past you, kissing the back of your head as you casually explained that you were going to lie down for a little bit. “Wait, let me come with you-”, Bucky started but you held out your hand to stop him.

“You’ve got a busy time at work and I’ve got Sammy boy here anyway so you two continue with your work and we’ll have a nice evening in, Ok?”

“Yes Ma’am”, he mutters before continuing to make his lunch. It wasn’t often that he listened to your instructions but both men were so busy and overwhelmed with work and the consequences that could come from it all that they were all over the place.

The next hour passed by slowly and you didn’t manage to sleep even for a moment because your symptoms were making you feel so awful. You were wheezing so bad that each breath felt like you were suffocating, your eyes began to roll with how much the room was spinning and a violent tremble rocked through your entire body, you didn’t feel right, something was wrong and it was beginning to scare you.

“Sam?” your voice was nothing more than a rasping whisper but he still was able to hear you from where he had been on the phone with the doctor from across the room, having noticed your deterioration in health. He was kneeling by your side in a couple of broad steps, the phone balancing between his cheek and shoulder as he rested a hand on your temple, feeling your spiked temperature. “I don’t feel good”, you admitted, voice full of terror before more coughs ruptured through your chest, leaving you struggling to breathe.

“Steve! Bucky get down here right now!”

“No… no, I just need to sleep”, the fear had disappeared from your voice as you wished for the exhaustion to take you completely, hoping that in sleep you wouldn't feel the pain destroying your insides.

“Hey! No!  Don’t go t sleep, need you to stay awake for me, Doctor Banner is on his way but you can’t go to sleep”, Sam urgently tapped your face, rousing you from the sleep as Bucky had all but jumped down the entire flight of stairs at the shouting.

“What’s going on- What the fuck? Doll?” he replaced where Sam was so that he could continue to explain to the doctor what was happening.

“I’m just not feeling ok, it’s fine Bucky go back to work”, you were somewhat delirious, still not really opening your eyes but leaning into the coldness from Bucky’s hand as he cupped your face. Bucky looked to Sam for answers, his eyes bright and alert with fury and worry.

When Sam shrugged his shoulders, not having any answer as to why you were suddenly so unwell, Bucky quickly turned back to you and assessed your deteriorating health and noticed just how laboured your breathing had become. As he spoke, it was with surprising gentleness but still held authority, “I need you to take a deep breath for me, honey, I want you to try and fill your lungs with air”.

“I’m trying, it’s just seasonal illness, it’ll be ok”.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky asks, not letting go of your face but just moving in closer.

“It’s just seasonal”, your words began to slur as you became incoherent.

Steve finally descended the stairs with just as much purpose as Bucky as he demanded to know what was going on but Bucky couldn’t answer him as he continued to talk to you and keep you awake. “It’s not seasonal, you’re not breathing properly, it’s not-”. Bucky was leaning so close that he was able to smell your breath and he froze, it looked like he now wasn’t even breathing.

“What is it Bucky?” Steve demanded, kneeling next to him and reaching over to take your hand but also feel your pulse, which only made his own increase with worry.

Bucky leans closer and smells your mouth again, so close that you tried to move away as his nose nudged your lips. “What did you eat?” Bucky asked in a tone that forced your eyes to open with concern.

“Huh? Um just my soup”, you say whilst blinking quickly as he still wouldn’t come into focus.

“Soup? Where is it? Where’s the container?” before you could answer, he was on his feet and running into the kitchen as Steve continued to demand answers from his boyfriend, his hand now moving from your wrist to directly over your heart, continuing to count the beats.

Bucky cursed so violently that it actually made you shrink into the cushions but the movement only made you cough more and chest tighten as you struggled to breathe. He returned to the room, his face a deathly white and green shade as he uttered just one word: “Hemlock”.

There was just one brief second where not a body in the room breathed or even moved, one single second to process the poison that Bucky had spoken, the planet that he only knew about because of his time as the Winter Soldier and using it on his target. The poison that he could now smell on your breath, that originated from your container of soup.

It was Sam to speak first, Sam to snap the two men out of their frozen states as he gave the orders from Doctor Banner who had heard the word over the phone. “We need to get her to a hospital right now”.

Steve picked you up, and his entire body began to tremble with adrenaline and fear as no one even stopped to properly dress for the snow outside, only putting their shoes on before rushing to the car. Sam thankfully was able to use the adrenaline to remain headstrong as he climbed into the driver’s side of the car so that Steve and Bucky could both hold you in the back seats and try and keep you awake.

You were lying with your head in Steve’s lap with your body lying across Bucky’s as they clamped their arms around you as makeshift seatbelts. You had heard the word that Bucky had said and even though you knew what it was, you didn’t want to believe it, even as you continued to feel worse. “It’s not poison, it’s just soup”.

However, those words triggered something within your throat and once more you were coughing so hard that you thought you were going to vomit and cringed as metallic warmth filled your mouth and leaked out of the corner of your lips.

You slumped onto Steve and Bucky, head lulling back but Steve was quick to grab your face, tapping it and forcing you to stay awake, “Baby don’t go to sleep! Please stay awake for me! Stay with us, we’ll be at the hospital soon, I promise”.

You were scared, even though you were half-conscious, you were terrified now realising the severity of the situation, knowing that you were coughing up blood which was now soaking the front of Steve’s shirt and hearing how panicked your boyfriends were only made it worse. Through all the scary, dangerous times in your life, they always remained calm and in control but now they were both frantic and frightened. 

As all three men continued to plead with you to stay awake, you forced yourself to open your eyes, only allowing yourself the luxury of blinking occasionally as you kept looking into Steve’s ocean-blue eyes. With his body and face so close to yours, you used him to ground you in the situation, trying to copy his breathing which had slowed since you’d opened your eyes; ignoring the pain from the breaths and resisting the urges to cough even though blood continued to fill your mouth.

“Am I going to die?” you whisper, not being able to ignore the questions now in the back of your mind anymore.

Steve’s breath hitched for a second before he tried to confidently whisper, “No, you’re not going to die”.

You didn’t believe him, especially as the trip to the hospital was delayed by the snow, every second feeling like it could be your worse, you didn’t want it to end like this.

“I love you.”

“You’re going to be ok, just keep looking at Steve, keep breathing”, Bucky pleaded, squeezing your freezing cold hand.

“Please, just say it back”, your voice was hardly audible anymore as your mouth was so full of blood.

“Stop talking and save your energy for when you’re feeling better”, Bucky tried to keep his composure but you knew he was close to snapping.

Your breaths were wet and laboured, wheezing so violently it rattled and echoed around the car but you still managed to plead, “Say it back-”.

“I love you, I love you so fucking much, please don’t leave me, baby”. Steve snapped first, his eyes were wide, fearful and yet beautiful with how stark the blue was as his eyes filled with tears, leaking down his cheek and into his beard.

You were thankful, for both of them, for everything and you wish you could have told them, wishing that you could have heard Bucky’s own declaration of love and adoration for you but the pounding of your heartbeat became so loud in your head that you couldn’t hear anything anymore.

But you continued to hold on, never once looking away from those pretty eyes of Steve’s as Sam finally screeched to a halt outside of the hospital. Once more, Steve carried you and there was a flurry of people in different coloured scrubs suddenly surrounding you as you were placed onto a cold bed.

One moment you were staring into Steve’s eyes and the next you were looking up at a stranger and the comfort you’d once felt, the thing that was grounding you to life was now gone and you couldn’t find him again, no matter how much you moved on the bed, even as the strangers poked and prodded at your body until you couldn’t deal with it anymore and finally closed your eyes.

Do you ever have those naps where you wake up and forget where you are, or what time or day it is? That was currently how you felt except the added sensation of floating encompassed your body as well. The only sort of normality felt throughout your body was a cool feminine hand stroking across your temple in a soothing, repetitive manner.

Your toes wiggled firstly and then your eyes behind your eyelids and even though you knew who was stroking your forehead, you still croakily asked, “Steve? Bucky?”

“It’s just me Sugar” Natasha sounded calm and peaceful as her fingers didn’t stop with their soothing motions. “The boys are going to be so pissed that you’re awake before they’ve got back”.

You huff and dared to open your eyes, grunting at the brightness of the room but thankfully your eyes adjusted and only one, still, Natasha smiled down at you. Seeing that you weren’t going to vomit or freak out, Natasha sat back in her chair, moving to hold onto your hand to give you some comfort. “You gave us a real scare”.

You thought back to everything that happened, some of it was a blur but most of it still played through your mind like a horror movie that you couldn’t look away from or escape. “Was I really poisoned?”

There was one thing that you appreciated about Natasha and that was her blunt honesty, not one to ever sugarcoat her words, “You were”.

“But… But how? I mean… the soup, Rafael, he wouldn’t-”. You stopped yourself talking, trying to envision all the interactions you’d had with him but only one thing repeated through your thoughts: Don’t trust anyone. That was one of the first rules Steve had taught you. “I don’t understand why? He seemed so nice to me, is his name even Rafael? Was everything a lie?”

“That’s what they’re just finding out. Apparently, the friend of a friend rouse was made up including his credentials, usually, our background checks are very thorough but he had some help to slip through the cracks”.

“Do you know what help he had? Who it was, I mean?”

Natasha for once seemed to think before she spoke which unnerved you, knowing that whoever’s name she spoke next wouldn’t be good news.

The monitor displaying your heartbeat began to beep as it increased with the dread that was settling through your body.

“All signs are currently pointing to Pierce”.

Your eyes closed as you tried to remember how to breathe. You knew about Alexander Pierce. Everyone did. He was ruthless and had plenty of finances and power to pay for his success but not only this, he had been one of the top employees of Hydra and usually in charge of the Winter Soldier. So yes, you all knew a lot about Alexander Pierce and his name was one to send fear through any of those involved in the Rogers mafia, even Steve.

As you opened your eyes again to look at Natasha, you could tell she wanted to tell you more but was holding the information to not panic you further but you needed to know. “Please just tell me whatever it is you’re not telling me”.

“We think he paid this guy to come and spy on Steve and Bbucky and it seems he put his sights on you. Specifically.. Because you’re their biggest weakness and it seemed like everyone knows that”.

Your face warmed with fear and anger, as fear prickled the corner of your eyes, “So what, now I’m not even safe in my own home?”

“That’s not-” Tasha began to lean forward in her seat but another voice cut her off.

“No, you weren’t safe in your own home”. Steve stood at your hospital room door, dressed casually in a black shirt and jeans, looking nothing out of the ordinary but his face was wrath of calm and anger. Your eyes snapped from him to Bucky who had looked just as serious but as your eyes connected with his, the hard lines of his face smoothed out into a weak smile.

The two of them step into the room as Natasha stands, informing everyone that she’d give us some space and guard the door.

You’re trying desperately to keep the tears at bay, to keep them from slipping and cascading down your cheeks, not wanting your boyfriends to feel any more guilt but as you took a deep breath in, a sob erupts through you and you can’t keep the emotions back anymore.

You attempted to hide your face with your hands, even with the added difficulty of having tubes and wires attached to the backs of your hands and the tips of your fingers. The realities of everything that had happened began to destroy any hope that you had. You’d nearly died, in your own home where you were supposed to be most safe.

Steve and Bucky sat on either side of your hospital bed, moving silently as they always did and with careful ease, gently took a hand each and pried them away from your face, stroking away any tears that continued to escape.

“I’m sorry, I just- I don’t know… It’s a lot”, you tried to give reason for your crying, even though it was unnecessary. Bucky tilted your face towards him, his voice was so soft and caring that it nearly made you sob with how careful he was being with you, “Don’t apologise for crying, I tell you this all the time, Doll”.

You offered him a wet giggle, taking a few deep breaths before rambling on with your anxiety, “I bet I look like a right mess right now, I don’t even know how long I’ve been asleep for”.

They let you calm yourself down before Steve praises with his low captivating voice, “You always look beautiful, no matter how much snot is on your face”. He smiles as he manages to make you laugh before he turned serious, “It’s been 5 days, baby”.

Your face drops, “5… I’ve been asleep for 5 days?!”

“You passed out when we arrived and when they could finally stop the bleeding you-”

“Bleeding?” you questioned, remembering you were bleeding from the mouth but it didn’t seem like that much.

“The poison you’d ingested that day was a higher dose and caused internal bleeding. After they were able to stabilise you, they needed to detox you from the poison and make sure your body was healing so it was safe to keep you asleep”.

You tried to process everything that Steve had told you, it felt confusing for you to have been through so much and yet feel such little pain in your body.

As if reading your mind, Bucky once again captivated your attention as he asked, “How are you feeling? Are you in pain?”

“No I’m not in any pain but I feel wrong like my body is floating in the water or something”.

“That might be due to the medications that they’ve got you on, they’re pretty strong Sweetheart”, his pet name helped to calm your disorientated mind, clinging on to the familiarity and focusing on the way both of their hands were holding yours and stroking tiny circles in your skin,

“Did you get the answers you wanted, from Rafael, or whatever his name is”.

Steve and Bucky shared a glance between each other but Steve decided to be the one to answer. “We got the answers, it was as Nat was explaining. Pierce wanted someone in the gang, spying and getting as close to us as possible and I guess they somehow managed to weasel their way in and tried to succeed with their plan to hit our weak spot”.

You took a deep breath to try and reduce the rising anxiety in the pit of your stomach before asking tentatively, “So what happens now? With Pierce I mean.”

“That’s a problem for another time, just need you to get better first”, Bucky interjected, lifting your hand to kiss the few fingers that were attached with clips or wires.

You tried to smile at him, wanting him to know how much you appreciate him but the feeling never met your eyes and this seemed to twist something in Steve and Bucky. Both of their demeanours changed, no longer were you looking at just your boyfriends but also the mafia boss and his second in command, mixing business with family.

Bucky began talking first, tone strong and husky, “This isn’t something we are taking likely. Sam’s already spent the last day and a half revisiting everyone’s past, making sure there are no other moles that have slipped through the cracks. No new faces are allowed anywhere near our home or you.”

As he spoke, you managed sure to nod your head and try to squeeze his hand in understanding. Steve shifted in his chair, capturing your attention as he continued the discussion. “You are safe and you should have been safe but we let you down, you were vulnerable when we weren’t there to protect you like we promised we would. We let you down, we broke our promise, we could understand if you didn’t want-”.

“Whatever you’re about to say you better forget about it right now”, you say sternly, heartbeat beginning to race on the monitor again as Steve’s mouth shut quickly with a snap. “The idea of being your weakness has always frightened me but, I could also be your greatest strength. I mean - Look at what you’ve been going just to protect the house, to protect me. I know you feel like you’ve let me down but I don’t feel let down in any way. Yes, of course, what’s happened is scary, especially in our home but I doubt it’ll ever happen again. They can try and tear us apart, they can try, but they won’t break us, they can’t break us. We have to remain on top ok? I always feel safe and trusted when I’,m with you both so please, don’t ever feel like I'm not because I am. I’ll always love you both, I’m not going anywhere”.

You sucked in air greedily after your short speech, the building emotions spilling freely everything you truly believed to the men beside you, not wishing for them to ever feel doubt for the relationship or how you felt.

Looking between them both, your heart sank as you noticed Bucky quickly wipe the corner of his eye. “I thought you said no more tears”, you spoke softly whilst trying to wipe away a stray tear.

“That’s before you decided to swoon me with your speech”, he quipped back, the light returning to his eyes once more as you laughed.

“I love you Bucky”.

“I love you, Doll”, standing from his chair, his metal hand stroked over the side of your face as he captured your lips with his, lingering for a few beautiful seconds before sitting back down.

Steve had lifted your hand during your speech and was kissing your palm and you reached out to stroke his beard, “I love you, Steve”.

He too stood, just as Bucky had but he kissed your forehead first, breathing you in for a moment before doing the same against your lips. “I love you too, so much baby”.

As Steve sat back down, your eyes began to feel heavy, all of the strong emotions exhausted you completely. “Will you both be here when I wake up? Not that I’m complaining about Natasha but she doesn’t spoon me like you both do”.

They both chuckle under their breath before Steve promises, “We aren’t going anywhere, sleep, Sweetheart”.

[dazedandconfused-15]

Heaven's in your eyes (Part 3)

If you guys like it, I would greatly appreciate a reblog, it helps spread this fanfic around🫶

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Female Reader

Summary: Life in Hawkins is dull and lonely, especially after your mom abandoned your family, leaving you even more isolated amidst school rumors. Already shy and with few friends, you find solace in your solitude—until Billy Hargrove, the intriguing new boy from California, comes into the picture. To your surprise, Billy seems to seek you out, finding ways to talk to you despite the odds. Never in a million years would you have imagined forming such an unexpected bond with someone.

Link to: Part 1, Part 2 and Part 4

@tatumrileyslover @littlenosoul @nocturnest Part 3 is here!!

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You weren't sure how things would go with Billy after that night. Technically, you still owe him for the day at the museum, There are parts of Hawkins he hadn’t seen yet. Plus, you hadn’t talked about when or if you’d see each other again outside of school. So, it's a surprise when the following week, as you're grabbing books from your locker, you feel a presence behind you—the warmth of someone's body lightly brushing against your back. You look up and see a hand resting on your locker. Turning around, you met his curious and slightly amused eyes. 

"Oh! Hey, you scared me…”

"I saw that," he replies. "Am I that ugly?"

You stay still, feeling the cold metal of the locker against your back, aware that some students are probably watching you. But Billy doesn't seem bothered by this; if anything, he seems indifferent. He's wearing the same black leather jacket he lent you the other night, over a partially unbuttoned black shirt. He knows he’s not ugly, and you know he’s teasing you. But his closeness throws you off, and you can’t find the words to play along. You stumble over a nonsensical and incomplete sentence. Meanwhile, he takes the books from your hands and moves his hand away from the locker, finally giving you space, and it feels like you can breathe again.

"Physics?" he asks, looking at the first book on the pile in his hands.

"Uh, yeah." You turn to close your locker, taking the opportunity to pull yourself together. "It's my first class, actually."

"Sweet. I'll walk you there."

"Oh, okay. Thanks." You struggle to hide your astonishment as you walk toward the classroom with him beside you.

And during the following days, he does the same. He makes it seem so natural that it slowly becomes routine for you. In history class, he sits next to you. During lunch break, you sit at the table at the back of the cafeteria. He always sits at a table next to Jason Carver, Chrissy Cunningham, and other popular jocks, but between bites of food, he always gives you a look. Eventually, at the end of the meal, he always gets up from their table and comes over to sit beside you. In history class, he always sits next to you. Strangely, Tommy Hagan makes no comment. After the first few times, the rest of the class seems to get used to it.

When the history teacher assigns the paired presentation on "The Role of Propaganda in World War II," the teacher lets you choose your partner. Billy and you are already sitting next to each other, so it’s automatic that you’ll work together. Part of you doubt he would choose to work with you if he wasn’t sitting next to you, but you decide not to think about it too much. You don’t mind the idea of working with him on the project. He offers to work on it at his place the following Saturday, as his dad and stepmom are in California for family matters.

It takes you twenty minutes to reach Cherry Lane. Billy’s house is about halfway there. His navy blue Camaro is parked out front, and as you approach, you see him on the opposite side of the car, rubbing a sponge against the back window. It’s warmer than usual, and he’s wearing a white tank top with basketball shorts. He notices you approaching and greets you with a nod, a cigarette clutched between his lips.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you greet back. You see a young red-haired girl walking past Billy. She has a skateboard under her arm, baggy jeans, and a short-sleeved T-shirt. She sees you, momentarily startled, and slows down, her blue eyes scanning you with detachment. Billy walks in the open garage, leaving you alone with her. You greet her with a hesitant wave of your hand, introducing yourself.

“I’m Max,” she replies. She must be Billy’s stepsister. He mentioned her a couple of times.

“Did you bring the books?” Billy returns with a bucket of water, setting it down beside the car.

You lift your linen shoulder bag slightly, indicating that your books are in there.

You feel Max’s eyes on you. Her blue eyes soften slightly, and she seems to recognize something. “You’re the girl who called last week, right?”

"Yes, that's me," you nod with a small smile. 

Max nods in acknowledgment, silently. She then sets the skater down on the ground. “You’re the first one who comes over to actually study.” 

An embarrassed smile breaks out on your face at her innuendo and you look away, feeling your cheeks heat up. The image of Billy with a girl while...no, you can't think about it.

“Piss off, Max,” Billy grumbles around his cigarette as he squeezes the sponge over the bucket, then jostles it twice to get rid of the water before scrubbing the windshield. 

Max rolls her eyes, but steps on her skateboard. She gives you a small smile. “See you.”

“Bye, Max.” you watch her skate away along the road.

“And don’t go too far,” Billy calls over the roof of the Camaro.

For a moment you get lost watching how the muscles of his back move under the tank top as he rubs the side of the car sponge.

“Almost done.” he calls over his shoulder. 

“You’re taking good care of it.” you observe as you approach the car, your hands tucked into your back pockets.

“You bet your sweet life I do. This baby cost me a good amount of money.” 

“When did you buy it?” you lean against the tree near the uneven stone steps leading up to the entrance of his house.

Billy takes the cigarette from between his lips, puffing some smoke into the air. “I was sixteen. Worked at a garage near my house for a couple of years before that. The owner found her after being on the hunt for months. She had roughly 10,000 miles on her already and was a little banged up. So, I had to use my savings and kept working there for a few months to pay for the repairs.”

He puts the cigarette back between his lips and pours the bucket of water over the car, washing off the soap. Then he takes a few steps backward until he’s next to you as he takes in the newly washed car.

“Not bad, huh?” 

“She’s really pretty.” you confirm with a nod. 

You've never been particularly enthused with cars, but you must admit that Billy's Camaro stands out in Hawkins. Moreover, the care he takes of it only enhances its shiny navy blue colour.

“Just like you.” 

You turn toward him, caught by surprise by his comment. As you do, he’s just taking the cigarette from his mouth after another drag, his eyes revealing a faint warmth that’s hard to perceive, blurred by the seemingly bored look his long lashes give him. But you see it. Even if for a second, you see it. The smoke curls lazily around him.

He luckily saves you from any clumsy answer, jerking his chin toward the house. “Come on, let’s get inside.”  

You hum while nodding in obligement, walking toward the house so he can avoid your flustered expression. Billy follows closely behind you, resting his hand on the back of your neck as you walk up the stone steps. He’s been doing that quite a few times. It’s nothing crazy, not an open hug or anything, but to you, his touch makes your heart glow and fills you with a comforting warmth. The house has a front screened porch, where two plants in a pot rest on the floor. You spot a grey rocking chair on the right side. 

“I like it.” you say. You wish you had a porch.

“Yeah, sometimes Max sits over there to read.” 

It’s a simple house, you notice, with modest furnishings. You both walk into Billy’s room, and you take in your surroundings. It’s a simple room. Apart from his bed, a few pieces of furniture, a mirror, and a wardrobe, there are things distinctly him that give the room character and warmth. Hanging on the wall are posters of bands like Metallica and Mötley Crüe. You also notice a stereo with two speakers. On the fireplace, there are some books.

“You brought it with you?” you ask with a smile, pointing to a yellow surfboard fading to green, leaning against the wall.

Billy sits on the bed, leaning his back against the wall. “Yes. It was out of the question for me to leave it in Cali.” with a wave of his hand, he invites you to come and sit next to him. 

You sit gingerly on the bed, books on your lap as he pops a piece of chewing gum into his mouth and offers you one. You take it, thanking him. Sitting so close, the warmth of his body seems to transfer directly from his thigh to yours.

“Are you gonna go back?” you ask, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. You pull your pencil case and a notepad out of your bag.

Billy snorts. “Hell yeah. I’m not staying here.”

It shouldn’t, but his statement stings a little. At the end of the school year, he will leave. After all, it was a foregone conclusion. There’s nothing to keep him here; his home is in California. He never told you specifically why he moved here. You had asked, jokingly, if his parents wanted "a change of air," and he had replied, ‘Something like that,’ without adding any explanation. So you had not pressed the issue any further. You learned that about certain things, Billy did not feel like talking. He clams up even more. If he wants to, you decide, he will open up to you.

“Yeah, I get it.” 

“Might work during the summer to save some money, though.” 

“There’s a garage downtown.” you offer, remembering what he said earlier.

“I was thinking more about the pool. Heard they pay very well.”

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah. Heather works there during summers,” he says, grabbing the history book from his bedside table and putting it on his lap.

“Heather Holloway?”’ you ask, your finger lingering along the edge of your notepad. 

There is only one Heather at school. Billy must be talking about her. She’s a pretty girl who comes from a good family. Her dad owns the Hawkins Post. She’s got it all.

“Yeah, you know her?”

“Oh, not directly. But yes, I know her. Her dad is pretty respected in town.” you bite your lip, fighting the urge to ask how he knows her. Are they friends? Did he date her? Is he still dating her?

You conclude it's none of your business, and thinking about it makes you feel weird. So you change the subject, finally opening the book and proposing to start working on the project. In between, you see Max walking past his room from the open door, her skateboard under her arm. After an hour of working, Billy stretches and a yawn escapes you. He lights a cigarette, inspiring a long puff of smoke, and titls his head up, looking at the ceiling. When he exhales, he also seems to sigh with relief. You realize how much smoking seems to be a way for him to relax, a need. 

“When did you start smoking?” you ask before you can stop yourself. Then immediately rush on adding “If you don’t mind me asking”.

“Must’ve been fourteen.” he says, “A friend of mine, Wayne, had been smoking for a year or so. Tried from his cig’ once, never went a day without smoking from there.” 

You hum pensively. 

Billy lolls his head to the side, a lazy smile plastered on his face. “You must think I’m fucking up my health, huh?”

“No, no.” you shake your head. Then you reconsider. “I mean…yes,” at which Billy starts laughing, a low gravelly laugh. “But, I know it must be hard to stop too, once you start. I can’t know, I’ve never tried.”

A second later, his cigarette appears in front of your eyes. He arches an eyebrow at you, looking at you expectantly. 

“Oh, I’m fine, thank you.” 

“Ah, come on. It’s not like you’re gonna get addicted after one drag. Live a little.” he gently nudges your thigh with his. 

You look at the cigarette with a mix of curiosity and hesitation. You've always wanted to try it, not because you want to start smoking, but just to confirm if it tastes bad so you can put the thought to rest.

“Okay. Just once, though.” you gingerly take the cigarette from between his fingers, holding it awkwardly and feeling as if it might fall off any second. You bring it to your lips, feeling his eyes on you. 

“Take it slow.”

It’s easier said than done. As soon as you breathe in the smoke, the end of the cigarette burning bright orange wildly, your lungs get filled with an unbearably burning sensation. You feel on fire. You can’t breathe. You start coughing non-repeatedly, your vision going blurred. 

Billy laughs again, taking the cigarette from your fingers as you try to fill your lungs with air. “Jesus, I said to take it slow.” 

Your face turns red from the effort, and your eyes water. You can't help but glare at him briefly as tears escape, your nose scrunching in disgust. He reaches out with his other hand, cups the side of your face, and gently brushes your tears away with his thumb.

“Breathe, now,” he says between chuckles.

“I don’t like it. It’s gross.” 

You say it both because you mean it and because it keeps you grounded under his touch. When he settles back against the wall, your heart keeps hammering against your ribcage.

"You're cute," he says before taking a drag, as if he's talking about the weather, and it only makes your flush an impossibly darker shade of red.

After he finishes his cigarette, Billy asks if you're hungry. You both head into the kitchen, and you sit at the table while he makes tuna sandwiches. He tells you it was the first thing he learned to make for himself when he was younger, back when his father used to work late before marrying Max's mother. He had to fend for himself. Over time, he learned to cook more dishes, especially when his father and stepmother were away for the weekend or running errands. A few years ago, he started weightlifting, which motivated him to learn even more about cooking. Despite all that, he still enjoys tuna sandwiches. Billy puts the sandwiches in the toaster and serves them to you on plates. As you take a bite, the taste of pickles and mayonnaise gives it an extra kick. It's delicious.

“Hey, can you make me one too?” Max emerges from the hallway, leaning against the kitchen doorway. 

Billy looks up from the cutting board he’s chopping pickles on as he makes his own sandwich, scowling at her. “Make it yourself.”

“Come on, you know I’m not good at this.”

“Well, you better learn how to make it. It’s a fucking tuna sandwich, not rocket science.” 

Max sighs, almost exasperated. "Fine, you stubborn ass. I’ll make it myself, but don’t cry to me when your precious pickles are all gone."

Billy looks up, irritation flickering in his eyes. "Hey! Language," he chides, pointing the knife in her direction, as if he hadn't sworn himself just a moment ago. He then gestures toward the empty chair beside you. "And sit down, if you want me to do it.”

Max quietly sits down next to you, a cheeky smile plastered on her face. Billy mutters under his breath, resuming chopping down the pickles. 

“With loads of mayo, please.” 

You’ve never seen Billy in a step-brother role before, and the dynamic between them is intriguing. You're suddenly curious about their relationship and how it has evolved since they first met.

“You’re lucky I’m even making this for you,” he grumbles, spreading the mayo generously on the bread.

“This is really good.” you say, pointing at your sandwich. 

“Yeah, Billy’s tuna sandwiches are rad.” Maxine approves. Then she shrugs. “He's an asshole, but if there's one thing he's good at, it's cooking.”

“Woah, thanks Maxine.” he ironically says. “Really portraying me well here.” 

You chuckle softly under your breath as Max ignores him, carrying on. “Can I go to Family Video later? I need to give back the movies.”

“Later when?” he asks as he assembles her sandwich. “We gotta work on the school project.”

“Like, in an hour?” 

“You’ll have to wait ‘till I drop her home.” 

Max huffs. “C’mon, Billy. I can skate there, it’s mid afternoon.”

“Ain’t no way I’m letting you go there on your own. It’s on my ass that Neil will be then.”

“I’ll be back before they’re home!” she tries again. “And I’ll bring back some good stuff.” 

You watch as Billy sighs heavily, walking in silence over to the table and setting Max’s dish in front of her. Then he points his finger at her, looking at her hard. “I’m warning you. If you’re not back here by four we’re gonna have a serious problem.”

Max mutters something along the lines of “Yeah, jeez, okay” as Billy walks back toward the counter.

He shoots a mildly warning look over his shoulder, his eyes glinting sharply. “And you better bring back some good stuff this time.”

Max gasps in outragement. “It wasn’t that bad!”

“It was crap.” 

Max turns toward you. “Have you watched Children of the Corn?”

“I don’t think I have.” you say. “What’s it about?”

“It’s a horror movie.”  

“Oh. I don’t really watch horror movies.” you smile sheepishly.  “Too scary, I can’t sleep for months then. I’m more into comedies or romances.”

“Those aren’t bad once in a while.” Max agrees. “We mostly watch horrors, but sometimes we happen to watch romances too.”

“You watch rom-coms,” Billy stresses out, as he adds the tuna-mayonnaise mix to his toast. 

“Please. How many times did you stay on the couch until the end?

“That’s because the NBA played later at night.” 

Max arches an eyebrow in disbelief. “Oh, really? And what about all those times you pretended to get a snack from the fridge, and I caught you hanging around in the hallway, peeking at the screen?"

“Are you eating or not?” Billy cuts her, “Tic tac, shitbird. You better hurry to the videostore before I change my mind.”

It’s hard for you to hold your laugh. You look down at your plate at your half-eaten sandwich, hearing him approaching with his plate.

Max huffs loudly, standing and grabbing her plate. “Whatever. See you.”

She waves at you before disappearing in the hallway. 

“See you, Max.”

Billy sits down beside you with a sigh, taking the spot where Max was just sitting. He immediately starts eating his sandwich, and you notice he eats much faster than you. You try not to let your eyes linger on his biceps as he leans forward to take another big bite, crumbs falling onto his plate. You repeat to him that his sandwich is really good, mentioning that when you make it at home, it’s usually dry and tasteless. You just don’t know how to combine the right things, and it gets boring.

“She seems to care about you a lot,” you observe as you both finish eating, referring to Max.

Billy rubs the back of his neck, a sigh leaving his lips. Then he leans back on the chair. “Yeah. Things weren’t, ah…things are better now.”

“You didn’t get along at first?” you tentatively ask.   

“Yeah, not really. Moving together was tough. But I was a dick back then.”

“You?”

You can kind of see it, but the person he’s shown to you is the opposite of what he’s describing. 

“Believe me, sweetheart.” he shakes his head, a rueful smirk on his face. "I'm no saint now, but you're lucky we didn't meet when I was younger.”

“I’m sure you didn’t have it easy.” you offer. 

“Well, Max didn’t either. Her dad doesn’t give a crap about her, her mom only dated assholes before my old man. Then she meets him, thinks she hit the jackpot, turns out he can compete against all of the previous ones together. They really found each other.”

“Is she bad?”

Billy shrugs. “Nah, just weak. And Neil has his way easy with weak people. He found the right woman to mold between his hands like he wants to.”

You listen to him attentively, your hand supporting your head as you rest your elbow on the table, facing him. Neil must be his dad. There’s always some distance, and coldness in the way he speaks about him. He never once referred to him as his dad. 

“It must’ve been hard for her…” you recognize. “Especially being that young.”

Billy stands, grabbing the three dishes as he grimaces. “Yeah, I was so wrapped up in my own anger that I completely overlooked that,” he says as he drops them in the sink, and then starts washing them. You stand up and bring him the two empty glasses. “Just didn’t want any of that crap. Moving in with these people I’ve barely seen a couple of times and act like a happy little family. Fuck that.” 

“Then the move…” you supply. 

"Then the move. Blamed her for all of it. Especially for the move, when in reality the whole thing was my fault. But yeah." 

Your eyes fall on his hand, noticing the harsh way he’s scrubbing the glasses with the sponge. You wonder what happened. What caused the move? What could Billy have done? You don’t want to press on it further, realizing how you could easily touch a sensitive nerve.

“Well, you seem to take good care of her. And I see how she looks at you.”

You could swear for a moment he's caught off guard, almost uncomfortable. Then he sniffs, drying his hands with a towel, his eyes wandering outside the kitchen window. "Yeah, trying to make up for all of it. It’s best to stick together in this crazy house."

There is something about all of this that puts you on edge, makes your skin prickle. Something unsettling is happening in this family. There are subtle but numerous hints you pick up on in your interactions with Billy. It's a month later that you uncover the ugly truth.

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

A couple of weeks later May finally arrives, bringing longer days and warmer weather. You can already breathe in the summer air. The trailer park seems a little less gloomy now, with trees in bloom and green grass. In the evening, you hear crickets singing from the open hayloft in the kitchen or your room. On clear, sunny weekends, you and Billy go to Lovers Lake. It's not warm enough to swim yet, but you lie on the shore or on one of the deserted docks. You often do your homework or read while Billy smokes a cigarette or dozes. Your relationship has progressed; you feel much more comfortable around him. Though you don't know each other completely yet, you've gone out enough times to welcome the occasional silence, which no longer frightens you. Slowly, you feel yourself shedding layers of your shell. You think you can consider yourselves friends.

You were supposed to hang out that morning. He was meant to come over to study at your place before heading to Lovers Lake as planned. However, today, the familiar rumble of the Camaro doesn't show up. After a few hours of hesitation, you try calling his house. A man answers, presumably Billy's dad, and informs you that Billy is not home. The rest of the day passes in anxious waiting, but Billy never arrives. You try to push away thoughts of the worst-case scenario, but as the hours drag on, those fears keep creeping back. By Sunday, still no word from him. Billy has always been the opposite of what you expected—he never ignored you at school, never stood you up. Yet now, your fear seems to be materializing. Perhaps he's grown tired of you and found more captivating company. You wonder what you could possibly offer him. You're not as interesting or outgoing as his basketball team friends, nor do you provide the same entertainment as the high school girls he's dated, or might still be dating. Perhaps he's realized that after delving beneath the surface, there's nothing particularly captivating about you.

At dinner, your dad notices something is bothering you and asks what's wrong. You barely touch your plate, feeling like an amoeba. But he's dead tired from his factory shift, and you don't want to burden him with your worries, so you lie and tell him that you're not feeling well. Later, he rises from the sofa, gives you a kiss on the head, and advises you not to stay up too late before retiring to his room. Despite the sound of the TV in the background, you feel lonelier than ever, and the resignation settling over you is almost worse than the whirlwind of emotions you've experienced all day. Hours pass, and you start to doze off curled up on the sofa, the movie you started barely catching your attention. Then, you're jolted awake by the roar of a familiar engine outside the trailer. It's as if a shot of adrenaline has pierced through your lethargy. You sit up abruptly, heart racing, straining your ears to confirm what you've heard. The noise ceases, prompting you to hurry to the door, moving slowly to avoid disturbing your sleeping dad. Your heart skips a beat when, through the window, you spot Billy's familiar silhouette in the dim light cast by the bulb outside.

When you open the door, Billy seems momentarily surprised to see you. As if he didn't expect you to open it so promptly. But then that expression is washed away by his usual smirk.

“You sure were waiting for me, huh?”

You stifle a gasp of horror at the sight of his bruised and battered face, instinctively bringing your hands to your mouth to muffle any sound that might wake your father. To say he's in a bad state would be an understatement.

"Oh my God, Billy."

Closing the front door softly behind you, you step out into the night air, standing in front of him, your concern palpable.

"Good to see you too," he jokes, but his playful expression fades as he realizes his attempt to lighten the mood isn't working.

"Oh God..."

You draw closer, taking in his state. There’s an angry bruise around his left eye, dark purple and almost black, with hints of red and blue around the edges, swollen and puffy. Traces of dried blood linger around his nostrils, and his nose is swollen, the bridge as purple as the area under his eye.

"It's fine," he says.

"Sorry... can I just..." setting aside your shyness, you gently take his face in your hands, tilting his head slightly backward. You won’t fail to notice his small wince as you do so. His lip is cut and swollen. "Does it hurt a lot?"

“Nah. It’s okay.”

"What happened?" you ask softly as you brush his chin with your thumb, almost afraid of causing him further pain.

Billy doesn't seem concerned at all, contrasting with your likely alarmed expression. He looks almost unfazed, the corners of his eyes crinkling into his usual amused expression.

"Got into a fight with a guy. He was just drunk, and I was there."

You frown in confusion. "Were you... at a bar or something?"

"Yeah, I uh...at the pub downtown. Just happened to cross paths with him. He thought I was looking at his girl or something."

"A major dick," you mutter under your breath, your eyes still scanning his cut. It looks deep, like the blood struggled to stop flowing. There's still some dried blood on his chin.

Billy chuckles, then after a moment, he speaks quietly, "Yeah, a major dick. Got him good, though."

“You didn’t clean it. It’s going to get infected, I’ll quickly get…”

“S’fine, really.” while exhaling a sigh through his nose, his hand encircles your wrists, prying yours gently away. 

You lower your gaze to his hands to examine the damage there. But that’s when you notice it. His knuckles are completely fine. There isn’t a single cut on them.

“Billy…” you hold his hands, then look at him.

He seems to pick up on what you’re thinking because he pulls his hands away, scratching his nose with his knuckles, acting as nonchalant as ever. You notice how his hands seem to twitch, like he’s got this nervousness he can’t shake off. As if he’s itching for something. Itching for a smoke. 

“I’m gonna clean it when I get home. Wanna go to the quarry? I’ve got some sweets Max forgot in the car earlier,” he suggests, nodding towards the Camaro parked behind him at the beginning of the trailer park. It's likely he didn’t want to wake anyone, especially your dad, given how late it is.

“But…”

“Sweetheart. Please,” he cuts you off. You freeze in place at the harsher tone of his last word. Billy sighs, running a hand through his curls. “M’sorry. Can we just not talk about it?” he looks tired, but not physically tired—mentally tired. You can sense the exhaustion in his gaze, a silent plea underlying his question.

A twist forms in your stomach as the reality sinks in. It confirms that something very wrong, something dark, is happening in his life. You begin to reflect on how you might have overlooked the signs. You feel the urge to ask him if the person causing him harm is who you suspect. You want to help him. But you push down those thoughts and emotions.

“Okay. Okay, of course,” you softly say. “Can I just go and grab the first-aid kit before we leave? Please.”

Billy clenches his jaw and looks away. You can see how hard this must be for him, and the last thing you want is for him to feel like he can't be vulnerable around you. 

“All right.” he finally says.

After quietly retrieving the first aid kit, you get into the car with Billy. You’re not too worried about your father waking up since he sleeps like a rock, and it’s a Friday night after all. The car ride to the quarry is unusually silent. You try to break the ice by asking Billy how the basketball game went a few days ago or how Max liked the movie you recommended the last time you saw her. However, Billy responds with noncommittal short answers, clearly not fully present in the moment. Something must be weighing heavily on his mind. Sensing his mood, you decide to fill the silence by sharing what you’ve been up to lately. You mention that your father's co-worker, Wayne Munson, who lives in the trailer right across the street, came over for coffee the other day. Wayne has a son who’s a year or two older than you. You’ve never really talked to him, as he tends to keep to himself, but he seems nice enough. Now that the weather is warmer, you often see him sitting on the porch of his trailer, either smoking or reading a book. He always greets you when you walk by or take out the trash. You know he struggled in school, having flunked twice in his senior year, but he graduated last year and now works as a mechanic downtown. Talking about the mechanic job seems to catch Billy’s interest. You remind him of the conversation you had a while back when he mentioned wanting to work as a mechanic during the summer. Billy starts to loosen up and tells you that he plans to stop by the car shop in the next few days.

On this warm night, the air is balmy and filled with the earthy scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh foliage. As he has a couple of times before, Billy parks the car near the edge of the quarry, just where the thick line of trees begins. Gravel crunches softly under the tires, the only sound of the quiet evening.

The towering trees cast shadows blurred in the moonlight, their leaves rustling softly in the warm breeze. Before he can say anything, you open the first-aid kit on your lap and gently shush him when he objects. As you gently clean the dried blood around his nostrils and the cut on his lip with an antiseptic wipe, Billy winces slightly but doesn’t pull away. You then apply a bit of the antibiotic ointment to the wounds to prevent infection. Finally, you use a gauze pad to gently dab at the bruised areas, careful not to press too hard. Throughout the process, Billy remains mostly silent, his eyes closed, occasionally taking a deep breath. The temperature feels good outside, so once you’re finished you both get out of the car. Billy rounds the car and sits on the ground with a wince, resting his back against the side of the car. So you do the same. You stand in front of the quarry. Under the pale light of the crescent moon, the quarry walls loom like ancient sentinels, their rough surfaces casting long, mysterious shadows. The water at the bottom of the quarry is a dark, mirror-like expanse, reflecting the twinkling stars above.

"Here," Billy says, holding up some green candy canes along with a pack of cigarettes. It looks different from his usual pack of Marlboro Reds, but you don’t think much of it initially.

"What flavor is it?" you ask, taking one of the candies from the packet.

"Must be sour apple."

As you begin to chew, the taste of apple indeed invades your taste buds. From the corner of your eye, you see Billy pull a cigarette out of the pack, then hear him swear.

"Shit." Billy curses. "That's a candy. Didn’t even notice it."

You see the candy cigarette between Billy's fingers and an amused chuckle escapes your lips.

"Don't worry, it's an easy mistake. Guess even tough guys can mix up their vices sometimes."

That makes him snort a quiet laugh, and even if it’s without a real smile and it’s short-lived, you managed to make him laugh a bit.

Billy leans his head against the metal of the Camaro, his hand holding the lighter dropping to his thigh. "They must be in the car."

He must be referring to his cigarettes. You remain silent for a few seconds, contemplating whether to offer to go get them for him. You look at his tired profile: eyes closed, head resting against the car, throat exposed, Adam's apple slightly prominent. Looking at his bruised face makes your stomach twist with concern, your heart sinking. At least his wounds are clean now. You feel the urge to reach out and brush aside the curl that falls over his eye. But you don’t. Instead, your gaze shifts to the quarry.

“You’ve been really smoking a lot, Billy.” 

Your words slip out quietly, as if afraid of disrupting the fragile balance of the evening. You’ve observed Billy smoking ever since you met him. Lately, though, you’ve noticed how his fingers are more often occupied by a cigarette than free of it. You’ve seen his nervous fidgeting in class—how he jitters his knee, taps the rubber end of his pencil on the desk, scratches his stubble with his knuckles, and frequently shifts position in his chair. And now, whenever you’re together, he’s pulling one out from his pack at least once.

Billy opens his eyes slightly, glancing at you. He sighs and looks away, his expression hardening a bit. "Yeah, well, it helps," he says gruffly, but there's a hint of something softer in his voice. "Don't worry about it. I'll cut back... someday."

He sees the probably worried look on your face. He’s so young, and he smokes already this much. You don’t even realize how you’re worrying at your lip. 

“I’ll try and slow down, alright?” 

You nod hesitantly as he offers you a cigarette candy that you take. 

“Just ‘cause you can't stand the smell of smoke.” he teases you, his eyes sleepy and slightly amused. 

“What? I…that wasn’t…” you stutter, feeling embarrassed he caught you. “That’s not why I think you should stop! It’s for your health…”

“But it bothers you too,” a grin forms on his face as he reaches out, and before you can stop you he pinches right above your knee, making you jump and squeal in surprise. He’s learned how ticklish he makes you, and he’s never stopped teasing you with it ever since. l “I know you do.”

“Stop! Stop it!” 

“You alway scrunch up your nose like it’s the most disgusting thing in the world.”

“Stop it, okay!” you try to free your leg with a high-pitched laugh as he tries to pinch you again. “You’re right, I hate it! Hands off, now.”  

You push his hand away as he finally relents, trying to catch your breath. Billy shakes his head in amusement. He tugs at his candy stick with his teeth.

“Knew it,” he says. 

You simply take another candy from his hands, avoiding his gaze as he chews on his. You’re hyper-aware of how flushed you are now, embarrassed that he noticed. You didn't want him to realize that his smoking bothered you.

“I haven’t even realized I do that…” you then say, breaking through the quiet.

“It’s kinda cute.”

His comment makes your heart race and your face flush even more. You glance down, fiddling with the wrapper of the candy in your hand. “Thanks”, you mumble softly, barely audible.

“You sure as hell would make a good nurse.” he mumbles then, shifting his position, wincing a bit and you notice how he brushes his hand over his left side. “All caring and everything. You took care of my wounds pretty well.”

If it wasn’t for what he just said, you would ask him if he got hurt there as well. You try to mask your embarrassment with a casual shrug. "I don't think I'd like being a nurse," you say, managing to keep your voice steady. "Too much pressure and responsibility."

Billy nods, taking your words in stride. "Fair enough," he says. "Then what would you like to be?”

You let out a soft sigh, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the question. "I don't know," you admit, staring down at your hands. "It's hard to figure out."

"Tell you what, it’s pretty simple," Billy says. "What do you like?”

You lift your eyes from your hands, a bit surprised by his question. “What do you mean?”

Billy pops another candy in his mouth. “See, I like cars and I’m pretty good at working on them. So, I know I’m gonna be a mechanic.” he lazily gestures at himself, then at you. “What do you like?”

You ponder his question for a moment, thinking about the things that bring you joy. "I like to take pictures," you say finally. "Especially portraits of people. Capturing their expressions, their emotions... it feels special."

"Then you should be a photographer," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

You smile at his straightforwardness, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Maybe," you say, considering the possibility.

Billy leans his head back against the car. "You know, the guy I was working for in San Diego once told me something," he says. "He said that at the end of the day, it's simple. You need to find something you like and you're really good at, then make it your job. That's how you'll make it in life."

His words resonate with you, and you find yourself nodding in agreement. "That makes sense," you say softly. 

Photography has always been your favorite hobby. Until recent dramatic events, you used to do it a lot. You have a lot of pictures in the drawer of your desk. Billy tells you he wants you to show them to him sometime. He also says it’s a shame you stopped and that you should start doing it again. You haven’t spoken specifically about your mom leaving yet. You’ve noticed he’s very sensitive about it, careful not to push your boundaries. He’s never asked questions. However, tonight he simply tells you that if photography makes you happy, it’s important to not give up on it, as passions have a way of pulling us through hard times.  You realize how Billy has a way of making things simpler, of helping you see what's important. And in that moment, you feel a deep sense of gratitude for his presence in your life.

You stay at the quarry until two am, and it’s when you start yawning repeatedly that Billy says it’s time to go. Sitting in the car, despite the warm weather, feels good as the night has gotten chilly. You feel sleepy, but nonetheless, you continue to think about the current situation. You don’t want Billy to go home, there’s something that makes you feel on the edge, you want to talk about it with him so bad but don’t even know how to approach the subject. Despite that, sleep starts to take over you, but once halfway through the ride to the trailer park, a brownish silhouette crosses the road in front of you.

“The fuck.” Billy floors both the clutch and the brakes, and you’re thankful for having your seatbelt on. Your body slams forward and back again, and you hit your head against the headrest for the impact. 

A deer, froze into place a few seconds before, rushes toward the the other side of the road, running wildly and disappearing through the trees.

“Ouch.” 

Billy heaves a loud sigh. “God…frickin’ stupid forest.” 

Your heartbeats slow down as you recover from the surprise, your hand feeling the back of your head. 

“Yeah, we have lots of them here,” you mumble. 

“Jesus.” he looks then at you. “You alright?” 

His hand comes up, touching yours so you drop it. He gently rests it on the back of your head where it still throbs. It’s warm and big. He literally could crush you if he wanted to. But his touch is soft. 

“It’s fine.” you squeak, the sudden touch making you burn. 

“Hurts a lot?” he mutters’, his thumb petting the skin at the nape of your neck. 

“A little bit. It’s gonna pass.”

“Alright.” he relents after a few seconds, then pushes on the gas again. 

The remainder of the car journey passes in silence. Billy stops exactly where he had stopped before, the headlights briefly illuminating the 'Forest Hills' panel before he switches off the engine. Darkness envelops you, blending with the night's silence and the quiet of the car. You're not quite sure what to say. You're uncertain how to bid him farewell. Truth be told, you have no desire to say goodbye to him. The last thing you want is to let him go, sensing that he will likely return to danger as soon as you step into the house. 

"I'm sorry," he says, breaking through the quiet.

You turn toward him, confusion and surprise evident in your expression. "For what?"

"For standing you up."

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not though.” you can see him shake his head from the corner of your eye. “That was a dick move. Could’ve at least called you.” 

Turning your whole body towards him, you lean against the passenger seat. Now that a couple of hours have passed, his eye is swollen and darker.

"Billy, it's okay. Really. I know you..." you hesitate, then look down at your hands, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. You try to find the right words, careful not to touch the subject again, especially not to delve into details. "I know you weren't at the pub earlier."

At these words, Billy turns his head and looks away, towards the window. Sensing his discomfort, you hurriedly continue speaking. "And that's alright. I don't need you to explain yourself to me. I get it. I just want you to know that I know. 

Tentatively, you extend your hand towards his, resting on the shift gear. Holding your breath, you anticipate a possible rejection. 

“And I understand."

Billy doesn't shoo you away but remains as still as a statue, his elbow resting against the window, his knuckles against his mouth. Your heart tightens as you imagine the pain hidden beneath the shield he wears, the horrors he must have endured so far. Just as you begin to release the pressure on his hand, preparing to withdraw, Billy sighs and turns his hand palm up, slipping his fingers between yours and squeezing. His touch is warm, sending an electric signal throughout your body, causing your heart to leap. Reassured by his welcoming touch, your thumb caresses the back of his hand.

“I know we haven’t known each other for long,” you say softly, careful not to disrupt the fragile connection between you. “But I care about you. And I’m here for you. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Billy rests his head against the headrest, his eyes closed. He squeezes your hand. “Thanks, sweetheart.” his voice is low and gravelly, as quiet as yours.

You stay like this for a moment, perhaps him relishing in the weight lifted by your confession, and you in his acceptance of your attempt to bridge the gap between you.

“I should go now.” you whisper, glancing at the house, though that’s the last thing you want to do. 

Billy releases his hand from your grip and then reaches for his pack of cigarettes in the center console, his gaze avoiding. “Yeah, it’s late.”

“Will you be okay?” you ask him. 

“Yeah, don’t sweat it.”

Even as you look at him, Billy avoids making eye contact with you. He takes a cigarette, lighting it up, the flame piercing through the darkness and briefly illuminating his bruised face. It's as if he's peeled back one layer too many for his liking. You understand this, though it leaves you feeling distant from him. You miss the warmth he usually radiates. Quietly accepting the situation, you purse your lips and reach for the door handle. 

You glance back at him, failing to lock eyes with him as he exhales the smoke whilst tilting his head back. “Try to rest. And…uhm, call me if you need it. Please.”

Billy merely nods. “Yeah. Night.”

As you walk toward your house, the chilly night air envelops you, and you try to shake off the feeling of helplessness and emptiness that grips you. You're still trying to wrap your head around it, to accept the extent of his condition. It's kind of a shock.

As you hear his car door slam, you turn back to him.

"Did you forget something?" you ask, keeping your voice low as he approaches, the cigarette dangling between his fingers.

You don't understand his actions as he draws closer and closer, and for a second your body tenses, until he reaches out and pulls you toward him. It’s only when you’re pressed against his body that you realize he has his arms wrapped around you. Speechless, you allow your arms to encircle his neck, his face nuzzling into your neck, his breath mingling with your hair. You can sense the weight of unspoken words in the fierceness of his embrace, his forearms pressing against your back. Standing on your tiptoes to meet him, you ease the strain as he's slightly bent over you due to his height. But it doesn’t last long, so you simply allow yourself to be engulfed by his tall figure. You hope he can't feel how fast your heart is pounding against your chest, but at the same time, you find yourself not caring. Relief washes over you as the distance he had put between you earlier dissipates into the night air. And it feels good. You could easily get used to all of this. The butterflies in your stomach, the profound happiness as he’s everywhere, around you, against you. You realize that you could stay like this forever, and the thought scares you.

After what feels like an eternity, yet somehow not enough, he finally pulls away. Your hair is tangled with his, and with a gentle touch, he first separates his from yours. Then, with the same hand, he carefully sweeps your hair behind one of your shoulders. With his other arm releasing you, he taps the cigarette with his finger to release the ashes. His eyes carry a sleepy gaze, and this time you're certain they're sleepy in every sense of the word. Nonetheless, they bore into yours with the same overwhelming intensity.

“You sleep tight, okay?” 

You nod a couple of times, still speechless and unable to function by his proximity. 

As you watch his retreating form and assured stride, you feel your heartstrings pulling more strongly towards him with each step he takes, as if he's carrying your heart with him.

[writingseaslugs]

Diasomnia: When You're Sick

The last dorm, and probably the one dorm you don’t want taking care of you…minus Silver. Hope you guys enjoyed this dorm series, I know I did. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to skedaddle back to work. Also the intro is the same for all parts, so if you’ve read it once, you’ve read it all.

Disclaimer: All characters in this series are aged up. For more information about my version of this world and the type of reader you can expect, please click the “Au Information” below!

Request Information | Masterlist | Au Information

Diasomnia: When You’re Sick

The worst thing to ever happen to you while attending Night Raven College had to be, hands down, getting sick. You were alone in the dorm with only ghosts and Grim to keep you company, and as much as you loved them, they couldn’t take care of you when you became sick. This meant you had to make do and hope that everything was alright. Normally if you were under the weather, you’d just suck it up and go to class so as to not worry anyone. This time however, that wasn’t an option.

You woke up with every muscle in your body feeling sore and aching with even the slightest movement. Your stomach churned something fearsome and you had a runny nose and cough to boot. You had no idea what illness you had fallen to. Having so many symptoms…you could only assume it was the flu or something akin to that.

Still, there was no way you were making it to class like this. So begrudgingly you told Grim you weren’t feeling good and needed to rest, and to go to class and get your homework so you could do it later. The demon cat was grumpy about not having his henchman, but eventually gave in, leaving you alone to rest in your room and hope that whatever you had would go away.

Malleus Draconia

Sebek will be the one mentioning you being sick in passing, noting how Grim had been out of control due to your absence. That’s all Malleus needs to hear before he’s sneaking away from his retainers and going over to your dorm. Thankfully you’re asleep when he appears in your room. He’s standing over your bed, looking over you and placing his large hand over your forehead, noting that it’s warmer than it should be. This prompts him to call up Lilia to inform him of the situation. That’s where the trouble begins.

Malleus has no clue how to care for a human, so it’s already off to a rocky start. Lilia himself knows a little bit, as he had to take care of Silver. The thing with Silver is, other than the narcolepsy, he was always a fairly healthy child…according to Lilia. Really he just always missed the signs that Silver was sick or though it was just a quirk. So now you have two fae over your bed, trying to figure out what’s wrong as you slowly wake up and meet their eyes. You might have a heart attack that devolves into a coughing fit as Malleus is frantically trying to help you.

You’re going to be the one needing to tell them they need to get you the school nurse, and no this is not the time to experiment with treatments. Malleus does so, just because you seemed really adamant, and it’s a good thing. The nurse is nervous with both Lilia and Malleus in the room, but eventually manages to figure out how to take care of you, and even noting that the stuff served in the cafeteria is best for your recovery. Once Lilia knows Malleus has it handled, he leaves. Malleus is doing everything the nurse says, with a little flourish of magic, to make you get better faster. He’s pretty good at reading you as well, so if you move slightly he’s already fluffing your pillow to make it more comfortable, and asking if you’d like more water. He can be very doting normally, and it only increases once you’re sick.

Malleus is going to be relieved, but also not trusting that you’re totally better. Be expecting him to take care of you for a solid week after you’re better, visiting you after classes and bringing you meals, as well as checking your temperature the entire time. It’s not that he doesn’t trust your word, he just doesn’t trust the nurse having the best treatment plan. If he could have it his way, he would’ve brought you to Briar Valley to have one of the doctors there check you over.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia had just decided on a whim to visit your dorm the previous night, wanting to see what you were up to. When he found you curled up in bed shaking, clearly still asleep and unaware of your current condition, he decided to just stick around until the morning. After Grim leaves for school, he makes his grand appearance and is asking you what’s wrong. He’s not as concerned as he should be, since he’s seen Silver like this many times and his son has always made a full recovery. Still, he is a little upset to see you in such a state.

He’s not the best, at all, but he kind of knows what to do. He’s taken care of Silver while he’s sick so he assumes he knows what he’s doing…he doesn’t. If you had a fae illness, he'd be perfect. He could treat that almost as well as a normal doctor. A human illness though…well he’s less experienced in that. Still, he’s going to try and do his best before calling the nurse to get whatever medications he needs to hand you. At least he’s willing to call in help once he figures out he doesn’t know how to make you better.

He’s pretty attentive, if not a little teasing while he takes care of you. Again, he knows you’re not dying so he can have a little fun with it. He will try to put some medicine on a spoon and pretend to be a bird as he brings it to your mouth. Show him the most unimpressed look and he’ll break out into a fit of giggles. Just make sure when it comes to meal times, you request being brought something from the cafeteria, letting Lilia know that his seasonings would be too much on your stomach right now. He agrees and brings you proper food, even if he really wants to add something to it.

He’s going to be over the moon when you’re all better, telling you how happy he is and asking if you want to do something fun now. There’s no resting time after being sick, he’s been so good the past few days waiting for you to be better, that now you need to go and do something with him. He’ll be happy if you agree to sit with him in his dorm room and play a few rounds of a video game though. He’s just happy to have you back honestly.

Silver

He’s another one who finds out through Sebek. He’s half asleep when Sebek begins shouting about how you’re missing and Grim is causing havoc and how he won’t stand for it. Silver only hears you’re missing and after asking he finds out you’re sick. He knows just how bad it can be, being sick with nobody to take care of you. Most of the time Lilia didn’t even realize Silver was sick growing up, so he was on his own. This is going to prompt him to go ahead and check in with you.

Silver is actually pretty good at figuring out what to do while you’re sick. Since he normally took care of himself growing up (even if half the time it was sleeping it off) he at least knew the basics. When he noticed you had  a fever he was looking for things to help with it, alongside something for your cough and stomach. In no time he had all the things he needed to take care of you, and was able to do it without much of an issue. Good news for you, he is very quiet while he speaks to you, so you don’t need to worry about his presence causing you more of a headache.

He’s not perfect at it, but he tries to keep a good schedule up to make sure you’ll be okay. He can cook you something to eat as well, that tastes pretty okay so he doesn’t need to worry about running to the cafeteria before it closes. For the most part though, you both are asleep. In fact, sometimes you need to nudge him awake to grab your medicine, which he will sleepily do and mumble something about being sorry about falling asleep like that.

He’s relieved to know you’re all better and that he managed to help you, but he’s exhausted afterwards. Let him crash at your place and possibly also check in on him to make sure he didn’t catch whatever you had going on. Once he’s awake he’ll just smile and say he’s grateful you’re feeling better, but he needs to get going since you’re both behind on school work. He doesn’t need anything in return for helping you, but if he ever does get sick it wouldn’t hurt to help him out. He was good to you, so returning that favor is needed…especially since Lilia might not even notice Silver is sick…again.

Sebek Zigvolt

He’s going to notice right away once he sees Grim by himself, doing whatever he wants. He’s going to say the only reason he’s going to check in on you is because the sooner you’re better, the sooner you can control Grim. After all, Grim being crazy can disturb Malleus and cause distractions, and he would be a horrible retainer if he allowed that to happen. Nobody but Lilia and Silver would comment about how he was more fidgety the moment he found out, and how he bit down on his bottom lip, gnawing it with worry for you.

Sadly he’s another one who’s totally hopeless when it comes to taking care of someone else. More or less…it’s a bit disastrous. He’s too loud and causes headaches by accident, and he hasn’t the faintest idea on human illnesses despite being half human himself. Normally when he got sick, nobody knew if it was a fae or human illness, so he was treated for both. Which doesn’t bode well for you since he’s going to use that to try and treat you initially.

Once he realizes his efforts aren’t making you better, he’s going to call Silver to help out. He doesn't want to bother Lilia for something like this, and Silver is the only human he likes other than you. Thankfully Silver explains what to do and Sebek will do so, but stumbles a bit. At least you’ll slowly be getting better, and he’s not an idiot and will make sure you’re eating good food. He’s determined to make you better, and eventually he forgets all about the horrible excuse he told others, letting his worry take over for you. After letting him know his voice is a bit too loud, he’s going to quiet down for you. 

He’s relieved to know you’re better and for a while he’s significantly less tense, and everyone notices. Lilia is going to be teasing him about it, making poor Sebek go bright red since he’s been outed for caring about a lowly human. When you thank him, he’ll go back to the lie he told everyone else about wanting Grim to be properly handled, but the red on his cheeks is persistent enough to let you know that it’s a horribly fabricated lie…though you would’ve been able to tell either way.

[nanamincreampie]

Dormmate Geto part 2

Geto Suguru x Black plus size reader

( part 1) (part3)

Warnings: mutual masterbation, voyeurism (kinda), nipple play ( small mentioned), fingering, jerking off, Suguru being a peeping tom, mentions of teasing and begging

Later that day, you both decide to make lasagna for dinner. You sent out Geto to grab some missing ingredients, and when he returned, he was ready to dive into the meal prep. But as soon as he stepped inside, he froze. There you were, curled up on the couch, shoulders hunched and silent tears rolling down your cheeks.

He dropped the bags and came to your side in an instant, his voice soft and full of concern. “Hey… what’s wrong?” he asked, sitting down beside you. You sniffled, wiping your cheeks and whispering shakily that your date had just called to break up with you.

“He said…he was only using me for my body,” you choked out, averting your eyes. “He said…all he saw was that.”

Geto’s fists clenched, but he softened his expression as he took your hands gently in his. “I don’t know how anyone could say something so cruel,” he murmured, his gaze warm and unwavering. “You’re…you’re incredible. Every part of you.”

You sniffled, looking up at him, and he continued. “Your eyes,” he began, voice tender but unshaken, “they have this light to them, like you’re seeing the best parts of people… even when they don’t deserve it.” He squeezed your hand gently, his gaze roaming over you with a mix of admiration and appreciation. “Your body…all of it…is beautiful. Your thighs, soft and strong.” He let his hand graze your arm, lingering just a bit, his touch reverent. “And that gorgeous ass that just makes me lose my focus every time you walk in the room.” His voice dropped, deep and low. “Your skin…” He let his fingers trail along your shoulder, admiring the contrast of his hand against your warm, rich tone. “It glows. I’ve never met anyone like you, someone who makes the world feel… brighter.”

For a moment, you both were quiet, lost in each other’s gaze, until he leaned forward, heart pounding, and pressed his lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss. You gasped lightly against him, and he pulled back for a split second, staring at you in wonder before he leaned in again, deepening the kiss. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth moved with yours, slow and intoxicating, a mix of tenderness and barely-contained passion.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, faces flushed and eyes wide. You opened your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a flustered, “Uh, maybe we… should focus on the lasagna?”

Geto nodded, chuckling nervously. “Yeah… yeah, definitely.”

The kitchen felt warmer than usual as you both worked on the lasagna, and every time your hands brushed or your shoulders touched, it was like a spark reignited. The tension was thick, almost electric. His hand would linger on the countertop where yours rested, and whenever you reached across him, he’d pause, catching the faintest whiff of your scent that left his pulse racing.

Dinner was delicious, but neither of you spoke about the kiss. After you both said goodnight, Geto lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the kiss replaying in his mind over and over. He couldn’t shake the feeling of your lips, the warmth of your skin, and the look in your eyes after he’d pulled away.

He shifted restlessly, letting out a sigh. “Did I go too far?” he murmured to himself, remembering the vulnerability in your eyes as you’d opened up to him, only for him to…well, kiss you.

But it hadn’t just been some impulsive reaction. He’d been wanting to do that for longer than he’d admit to anyone. The thought of you, hurt and doubting your worth, had shaken something loose inside him. And as much as he tried to reason it all away, the feeling of your hand in his, the softness of your lips—it all left him wide awake, heart still pounding.

What if I made her uncomfortable?

A touch of regret creeping in, mingled with longing.

But somewhere in the mess of thoughts, a small hope flickered. He wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, you had felt it too.

Geto returned home earlier than usual, his lecture ending much sooner than expected. He relished the thought of having some quiet time to himself but was caught off guard when he heard soft moans drifting from the hallway. Curiosity piqued, he followed the sounds, slowly making his way to your room, the door slightly ajar. His heart raced as he realized the moans were unmistakably yours.

Inside your room, you had your back against the plush headboard, one hand buried between your thighs, fingers moving in a rhythmic dance, coaxing yourself toward that sweet release. Your other hand fondled your breast, teasing your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. The sight was nothing short of mesmerizing. The way your hips moved with each delicate stroke, your skin glistening under the warm light, made Geto’s mouth go dry, the tension coiling tighter within him with every sound that escaped your lips.

As you moaned out, “Geto, please,” it ignited a fire in him, pure and uncontrollable. He was helpless to the urge that overtook him, his body responding before his mind could catch up. His hands instinctively pulled down his pants as he started to stroke himself, trying to match the pace of your fingers, every glide a desperate attempt to connect with you in the only way he could. Thoughts of what you looked like, how your body felt under his hands, and the taste of your skin swirled in his mind, making it difficult to think straight.

He imagined your soft thighs wrapped around his waist, the warmth of your skin against his as he teased you. He envisioned lowering his head, kissing along the insides of your thighs, inching closer to your entrance, the sweet scent of your arousal intoxicating him. His mouth would find you, teasing your most sensitive spots with tantalizing flicks of his tongue while you squirmed beneath him, begging for more. “Please, Geto… don’t tease me,” you would whimper, your voice a breathy plea that sent shivers down his spine.

The way your thighs squeezed together, the curve of your ass pressed against the fabric of your shorts, and the swell of your tummy as you arched your back was absolutely intoxicating. Each moan pushed him closer to the edge, his pace quickening as he imagined himself thrusting deep inside you, your soft skin melding with his, your breathy gasps mingling with his own. “I want you, Geto… need you,” you would cry out, your words igniting the heat pooling in his core.

“God, I want to taste you,” he muttered under his breath, envisioning how you’d writhe and moan, how your body would respond to him, arching into his touch as he took you apart with his mouth, every flick of his tongue making you whimper. He could see it so clearly in his mind, your chest heaving, your beautiful eyes rolling back in pleasure, the way your fingers would tangle in his hair as you begged him for release.

With each stroke of his hand, he imagined burying himself inside you, moving in perfect rhythm, your soft cries echoing in his ears as he claimed you completely. The thought was enough to send him spiraling over the edge, a deep, primal grunt escaping his lips as he released against the door, his body trembling with the force of it.

But then, he heard you call out again, a sweet, innocent question that snapped him back to reality. “Geto? Are you home already?” Panic surged through him, and he quickly adjusted his pants, frantically trying to regain his composure.

He rushed back to his room, closing the door behind him just before you could get a glimpse of his flustered state. You stood outside his room for a moment, wondering why he hadn’t come out to greet you. “Geto?” you called again, lightly tapping on the door, but there was no response.

Deciding to turn back to your own room, you felt a strange mix of disappointment and curiosity. Once inside, you let out a sigh and glanced around, your mind lingering on the recent events. But as you moved to close the door, your eyes widened in shock. There, against the surface of your door, was a clear streak of what looks to be cum, his cum, a reminder of the heated moment that had just transpired

[cochineal-leviat]

Sweet Dreams, Stardust

Okay, so I have a lot of feelings about In Stars and Time. But let me say first, wow, this game irreversibly changed my brain network. For anyone who is considering buying this game, please do. I don't think I've had a story touch my heart and mind like this for a long time. And that goes without mentioning the stunning visuals and entertaining battle system. (Be careful, though, because this game handles heavy topics regarding mental health)

If you're still hung up on buying it but are curious, there is a free demo on Steam if you like to try.

Thank you, @insertdisc5, for this gem of a game. I will be turning it around in my head like a microwaveable gourmet meal for months to come.

Technically the illustration has no spoilers (unless you count Siffrin having a good nap as a spoiler). But I will be going into heavy spoiler territory under the keep reading since I need to get my thoughts on this game off my chest.

And a monochrome version because you know me, I can't help myself. Even in black and white art pieces, I will put in some colour.

And a very tiny Loop

Initially, I was going to do a piece with a theatre stage and the cast (Siffrin, Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonnie and the head house maiden) taking a bow and finally leaving the spectacle to a life not controlled by a script and Wish Craft. But it was more fitting to put my feelings into creating a peaceful scene. Like, oof, I needed this very badly. I used sepia to make the painting warmer and added some more details like headcanons. The stars/colours might be remnants of Siffrin's transformation. Or maybe they were always there, but he never paid attention to it. Who knows.

I'm going to keep this brief. Otherwise, this post will take way too long.

I adore Siff's character. It's perfect for a game and narrative such as this. I saw a post not long ago on Tumblr going into depth about how their role as the rogue and not the hero works so well, so I won't linger on it for long. But how they would rather listen and fade into the background perfectly aligns with the player's experience of being the silent observer. (And the nodding off that changes into zoning out. It took me way too long to realise that small but essential narrative change) Oh, and the portrait change! It flew over my head until I was staring at the game menu. I was so confident Siffrin had a mischievous grin and not a frown. I always feel slightly surprised when the party asks for Siff's opinion or mentions that they have been too quiet. I felt Siffrin's excitement like my own when he got excited at finding clues to end the nightmare they were in. So I knew it would end up falling on their face because they were too excited. I just had this bad gut feeling the whole time during Act 4.

And oh boy, speaking off acts. I thought it would have been the standard 3. Boy, I was wrong. Whenever I felt I was nearing the end, I was thrown back at the start with more mysteries than answers. It made exploring the game intriguing since there is almost no information about it online (at the time of writing this post). There is the Discord, but I didn't know about it until I finished it.

This game has a lot of secrets, and I had a lot of fun uncovering them. The looping mechanic works so well in discovering little details and further leads. (even though my stubborn arse kept trying to do everything in the least amount of loops as possible. I thought the ending would be different if I exceeded a 100. My final number is 59. I am still not sure if I should be mad about it not being a rounded number like 60 or that I went over the 50 threshold)

However, it is a good thing that only some mysteries were solved. Like, what's up with colours in this world? Everyone sees in black and white, and the idea of shades and colours is only spoken of in scientific studies. They do exist and are not a part of the disaster that happened to Siffrin and their land. But there is definitely something mysterious about it. I adore how the dialogue reflects this, as the characters do not speak of shades or colours. Isabeau expresses surprise to see a streak of red colouring the sky in Act 6. It makes you think about how colour is perceived and how you describe it. (The lore inside this game is immaculate. I eat this shit up)

We never find out the name of the country north of Vanguard or what it was like. We can only infer that the beaches had black sand, with shells that shine like stars, high-reaching mountains, forests and plains. Which is vague and yet intriguing enough to make you wonder. It connected me to Siff and King because I also wanted to know. I was desperate to know. I needed to know. But in the end, we never will know because that is not the story's point. Siffrin even says in the game, that King should let go because he is hurting everyone and everything, including himself, in his desperation to preserve Vanguard. This is all the more ironic when Siff accidentally does the same with his family and the loops. I might gush more about what the country might be like and their technology in another post. This game makes me want to theorise. This is the first time I've wanted to write and post theories. ISAT fucked me up good.

Which, by the way, was genius. Siffrin and King are mirrors of each other. Siff does not have King's disastrous ambition, but their love/obsession will be the downfall of both of them. They have more than being each other's countrymen in common, and I imagine Siff despises that.

I love the fact King's question to Siffrin before the showdown was/could never be answered. Usually, in a game such as this, you must figure out how to solve everything, especially for the big bad. But that was never the goal. King is a delusional monster who will not stop before achieving his dream. He will raze everything to the ground and hurt many people because he must succeed. It is what he desires. Nay, the universe wills it. What a witless excuse that can easily be made into someone's truth. Especially to somebody who is driven mad with grief.

How King's character's done is so excellent. Because, at first, I wasn't scared of him at all. He was just the big bad, and I felt nothing much but the glory of victory when Siffrin outsmarted him by looping and making sure Mirabelle learned the shield spell that would protect the party from freezing in time. But each time you fight him, you get more frustrated until Siff figures that talking to him might be fruitful. It does, but unfortunately, you and Siffrin leave yourself emotionally and mentally vulnerable. King stops being a one-dimensional villain and changes into an actual person. Someone you can sympathise with and possibly mend peace with without fighting. You and Siffrin opened his heart for a kindred spirit and got hurt.

King stopped being a monster and became human. And while monsters are wretched, humans have intent behind their cruelty. I felt so betrayed, so angry, but most of all - terrified. I felt it when Siffrin spiralled when fighting King again after their actions caused such a catastrophic turn of events for Bonnie. Every time after that, the fight with King felt tense and nerve-wracking in a dreadful way. Because even victory could not soothe the dread I felt. (The track 'It's finally over" will forever haunt me. I already feel anxious whenever it cycles to that when I listen to the playlist)

He was not, however, the final villain, even though everything that happened was King's fault. You were always your greatest enemy (or Siffrin in this case, since you are supposed to be Siffrin). I never could have guessed that the whole reason why Siffrin could not escape the loops was because Siff accidentally wished to never let go of their friends. This reminds me of Modaka Magica, where (spoilers for the OG anime) Homura goes back in time so much that the universe ties itself around Modoka, making her a waiting egg whose wish and magic will be massive when she becomes a magical girl. The one thing Homura was trying to prevent.

(Siffrin and Homura are identical in that sense. Shy characters who are loyal to a fault but are rendered into something cold, bitter and cutting by their traumatic experiences. Only Siff has people who care about them and would do anything to save him, too, whereas Homura never lets go, making the world a worse place to live in. Yes, I did go into doomed Yuri. That anime lived in my mind rent-free in my mind for years)

The Head House-maiden not being the villain was also a great touch. I am used to the apparent antagonist turning out not to be the big bad and the trusted, friendly character ending up being the evil one. Twist villains no longer work when everyone expects them to be villains.

That was my biggest theory as I played. The second biggest being that Loop is someone who enjoys Siffrin's suffering. I am so glad that was also not the case. They are apathetic but not cruel. Never intentionally, anyway. They were like the player, urging Siffrin to go deeper into the mystery to solve it. Ultimately, I chose and made cold and cruel decisions simply because I wanted to see what would happen. So yeah, I warmed up to this cosmic star thing as the game went on and even started trusting them. Act 5 really is a punch in the gut. I am so sorry, Loop. Thank you for coming through in the end.

Oh man, this is so long, and I haven't even gone into the main cast. I will leave that for another post. They are such great characters, as are the people of Dormant and the House. (Don't think I don't see the wordplay in this game. Very clever)

Going into this game completely blind was the best experience I could have had. I felt anxious, happy and scared so severely that my neurons were rearranged. I don't know if there are more endings (aside from the obvious action of attacking Odile in the True(?) ending of the game), but I am taking a break from it to make art and write for this game before I dive back into despair-o-land.

Anywho, thank you for coming this far and reading my ramblings. Have a fantastic day or evening further! o(*'▽`*)ブ

[awkwardauthorwrites]

Somebody Else

Word Count: 3k

Themes: fluff. A little flirting but this one can be seen as pureply platonic

Summary: Definitely not inspired as some love to @ask-sebastian who seems to be having a tough time at the moment 

Warnings: Potential spoilers for HL. All characters 18+ and in seventh year. Absolutely not proof-read a million times like I usually do so please be nice.

If anyone is ever struggling, please feel free to message me. I will always respond as soon as I am able to. I never want anyone to feel overwhelmed, alone, anxious, or anything else. I love you, please take care of yourselves

Y/N let out a long breath as she landed back on the Hogwarts grounds. She had been looking absolutely everywhere for Sebastian and still had yet to find him. She had checked the Undercroft, the Restricted section, his dorm room - she had even flown to Feldcroft on the off chance he was there to fix up the old cottage - but he was nowhere to be found. She grumbled slightly to herself as she made her way back to the Slytherin common room, hoping at the very least she could catch him before dinner. Not that he would attend the meal anyway. 

Y/N had been looking around for him for the past few days, but all she caught were fleeting glances in class before he bolted out of the room as fast as possible, looking more and more exhausted each time. It broke her heart to see him so rundown and she was determined to help him. She smiled in passing to Grace, who stopped her with a knowing look and pointed to the corner of the room where the large windows were. Y/N spotted the familiar mop of brown hair and thanked the girl before making her way over to him and slid into the spot next to him on the sofa.

“Hey, you,” Y/N smiled softly. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” Sebastian turns his head fractionally to look at her and offers her a weak smile before looking out the window at the Black Lake again. She manages to catch sight of dark rings under his eyes and his pale face before he turns away from her to watch the fish swim by.

“How can I help?”

“Seb…” She feels her heart sink at his demeanour. “I’m worried about you. You’ve not been yourself lately.” He sighs heavily and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. 

“What have you heard?”

“I haven’t heard anything.” Y/N shakes her head slowly and moves along the couch just a little bit so that she can lower her voice. “You’re my best friend, Sebastian. I can see that you’re not okay. You look like you haven’t slept in days, and I don’t think I’ve seen you eat a proper meal in that time either. You might have everyone else fooled into thinking you’re okay on the surface but I can see below that.” He mulls over her words for a few moments before looking at her with a half-smile.

“I’m just an open book to you.”

“Sometimes,” she admits with a quiet laugh. “I don’t want to pry, but please, if you need to talk to someone I’m here. I don’t want you to feel alone in whatever you’re going through.” Sebastian gives her a warmer smile, but his eyes still have a haunted look about them.

“Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“I’ll take whichever version you want to give me. I’m here for you, Seb.” Y/N holds her hand out for his, letting him decide if he wants to take it. He looks at it for a beat before quietly lacing his fingers through hers and giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve the world and I won’t let you think otherwise,” Y/N’s tone is a little shaper than she intended, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “You told me once on one of my bad days that it’s not a race to the end. Take your own advice, Sebastian.” He huffs out a quiet, humourless laugh and shakes his head.

“Shame on you for using my own words against me.”

“Shame on you for not using your own perfectly good advice.” Sebastian rolls his eyes at that, before letting out a quiet sigh and leaning back in his seat.

“I think I’m just overwhelmed.”

“With school?”

“With everything.” His eyes slip closed and Y/N allows her mask to drop for a split second, allows all the hurt and pain she feels for the man in front of her to show before she quickly hides it again. “It’s school, it’s Anne, it’s Solomon. It feels like everything is piling up at once.”

“You’re speaking to Anne again?” Y/N asked, trying not to let the surprise show on her face.

“No, not quite. I…I sent her an owl asking how she’s been. Explained how sorry I am for what I did and told her that I missed her. That not a day goes by where I don’t hate myself for my actions in that tomb.”

“What did she say?”

“She misses me too, but it’s still too soon and she doesn’t know if she can forgive me yet.” Y/N doesn’t know how to reply to this without it sounding like she pities him, so instead she squeezes his hand gently again and places her free hand on top. “I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me.”

“I think she will, one day. I don’t want you to think I’m just trying to placate you or give you false hope - I genuinely believe Anne will forgive you. I know I barely had a chance to get to know her, but I saw how much you two love each other. She just needs a little more time.”

“I know,” he sighs and turns his head to look at her. “I just wish I could jump forward until then.”

“Would it be incredibly corny to say if you skipped forward to the best parts you might miss out on all the good things in between?”

“Definitely.”

“Too bad, I said it.”

“You’re incorrigible,” Sebastian laughs again, and Y/N feels her heart leap at the little bit of warmth she can hear in it. “I need you to know how much I appreciate you. Everyone else seems to think I’m fine except for you. You can see straight through me and I can’t quite work out if that’s terrifying or not.”

“Well, I’m biased, but I think it’s pretty great. Besides, you can see straight through my bullshit as well, so it’s only fair I can do the same.”

“That’s true, I guess.” Sebastian squeezes her hand again and turns in his seat to face her. “Thank you for checking on me, it means more than you will ever know.”

“You think I’m done mother henning you?” Y/N clicked her tongue in mock annoyance. “Get up, we’re going to the kitchens to get some food for you.”

“Why does it sound like we’ve fallen into the tough love part of the night?” Sebastian groaned as she tugged at his arm to pull him off the couch. 

“Because we have. All I’ve seen you consume the last three days is coffee and the occasional blueberry muffin.”

“That’s rich coming from you,” he scoffs lightly as they walk out of the common room. “You don’t even drink water most days, all you drink is coffee.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.”

“You’re a hypocrite.” Y/N looked over her shoulder at Sebastian and couldn’t help but laugh at the pout on his face. She resisted the urge to pinch at his cheeks as she continued to lead him towards the kitchens.

“Well, I’ll make sure I drink a nice big glass of water if you eat a full plate of real food.”

“...multiple glasses of water.”

“Deal,” she rolled her eyes at him playfully and came to a stop outside the portrait for the kitchens. With her free hand Y/N tickled the pear, a small smile coming to her face as it softly giggled before swinging open for them both. She pulled Sebastian in after her and waved in greeting to a few of the house elves as she made her way over to a table.

“Miss Y/N!” Posie, a female house elf, darted over with a large smile. “Oh, it is so good to see you again! And you brought a friend!”

“Hi Posie. I’m sorry it’s been so long, I’ve been a little busy.” Sebastian felt his heart swell as Y/N gave the creature a genuine, wide smile and pulled him forward. “This is Sebastian. Could I trouble you for something to eat for him?”

“And you,” Sebastian nudged her gently. If he was going to be subjected to her fussy, caring behaviour then she was going to join him. “It’s nice to meet you, Posie.”

“And you, Mister Sebastian! Posie will go and bring you both some food right now.” The small creature dashed off in search of something to eat and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly as she sat down at the table. 

“She likes you.” Y/N turned to look at Sebastian with a curious smile. “Posie, that is. Merlin, is there anyone you don’t have wrapped around your finger?”

“I’m not that special,” she laughed quietly. “I can think of a few people who definitely have it out for me.”

“Point them out to me and I’ll put them back in line.”

“I can do that myself, but thanks for the offer.” She laughs quietly and turns to smile at Posie as two plates alleviate in their direction, as well as a jug of water. 

“Can Posie get anything else for you?”

“No, thank you Posie. This looks wonderful.” The house elf beams at Y/N’s words and lets them know to call her over if they need anything else before disappearing to help prep for dinner. Y/N gave Sebastian a pointed look as she poured them both, silently conveying she would not be taking a sip until he took a bite of his food. He sighed at her, but the corner of his mouth was slightly upturned as he took a large bite out of the chicken on his plate. She nodded in satisfaction and drank from her glass until it was finished and then refilled it. “You know, it’s a shame you haven’t been around, you missed my hair going through every colour of the rainbow for a few days.”

“You what?” Sebastian coughed slightly and looked up at her, eyes wide in surprise. “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t! Not on purpose at least.” She laughed and began to pick at her own plate of food. “Garreth has been working on a fire-breathing potion that doesn’t hurt the user or burns things around it. I offered to test it for him and roughly every hour my hair would shift into the next colour on the spectrum.” Sebastian had no words for this, but he was quite clearly trying to hold back his laughter. “Personally I think I looked absolutely stunning with Slytherin green hair.”

“You’re absolutely stunning regardless.” The words slipped out of his mouth before he could process them and he offered Y/N a sheepish smile. She rolled her eyes at his words, but there was a pleased smile on her face. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Sallow.” She nudged his foot with hers gently and gave him a small wink as they finished their meals in a comfortable silence. Y/N watched as some colour began to return to his cheeks, and even though he looked absolutely exhausted, he began to sit a little straighter as his body started to digest the much needed meal. They took some blueberry muffins with them as they left (with Posie making them both promise to come back soon) and even though he wasn’t quite back to his usual self Y/N could see the change in him from such a simple act of self-care. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Are you telling me I look tired? Way to make a man feel good about himself, Y/L/N.”

“Oh hush,” Y/N flicked his arm. “Stop deflecting and tell me.”

“I slept last night.”

“Enough?”

“Define ‘enough’.”

“I’m going to take that as a no.” She narrowed her eyes at him and began to lead him back to the Slytherin Common Room. “Are you going to blush and stutter and protest if I put you to bed?”

“Blush and stutter? No. Protest? Absolutely. I’m not five years old.”

“Well, stop acting like it and start taking care of yourself.”

“When did you swap from mother hen to this tough love act?”

“When you started to sulk and pout.”

“I am not!” he protested. Y/N raised an eyebrow at him, an amused smile on her face as he groaned in defeat. “I can’t stand you some days.”

“I love you, too, Seb,” she laughed as they walked into the Slytherin common room, not breaking her stride as she led him up to the boys dorm, not caring that a few people watched with wide eyes and probably assumed the worst. “Am I staying with you to chat and relax or would you rather just sleep?”

“Stay with me, please. At least until I sleep.”

“Okay,” she nodded once and sat on his bed, shoo’ing him towards the bathroom. “Take a shower while you’re in there, I’ll be waiting here.”

“Are you trying to tell me I smell?”

“It’s cute that you think I’m going to dignify that with a response considering your cologne smells amazing and you know it.” Y/N raised an eyebrow at him and all but pushed him towards the bathroom and shut the door behind him. She could hear him laugh from the other side before the door creaked open and he slipped back out.

“Before you reprimand me, I need clothes. I can’t very well come out in just a towel, can I?” he teased, watching as she flushed. She threw one of his pillows at him as he rummaged through his wardrobe for something comfortable and narrowly avoided it as he tossed it back, along with a large shirt. “My cosiest shirt if you want to get comfortable too.” He gave her a soft smile and retreated back to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as she toyed with the soft fabric before getting changed as quickly as she could, unsure of how long he would be in the shower for. The shirt fell down to her thighs, so she shed her skirt as well with a quiet sigh and got herself settled underneath the blankets and waited patiently for Sebastian.

She leant over to grab one of the many books that were laying on the floor by his bed, but instead she caught sight of the picture frames he had on the table. One was of an older couple and Y/N could only assume they were his parents. They seemed to be chasing two toddlers around a garden before scooping them up and smiling for a family picture. The next was a drawing of Sebastian, Anne and Ominis that only looked to be a few years old and Y/N recognised Feldcroft in the background. 

The final picture brought a small flush to her cheeks and she carefully picked it up for a closer look. It was a drawing of her and Sebastian from last year - she would recognise that coastal background anywhere. A large group of them had made their way to the beach for the day when the weather was good, and Garreth had been doodling in his ever-present notebook with a sly smile. Y/N had asked him what he was doing, but he simply waved her off and muttered something about potions and equations. She knew he had been lying to her (especially when Poppy leaned over to have a look and began to giggle) but had brushed it off and turned back to her conversation with Sebastian, but what she didn’t expect was for him to be sketching a picture of the pair of them as they smiled at each other. She definitely didn’t think Sebastian would be in possession of said sketch, or that he would keep it by his bedside.

“Was that your grand plan, then?” Sebastian asked teasingly as he walked out of the bathroom, rubbing at his hair with a towel. “Send me to the bathroom so you could snoop?” He draped the towel over a chair and walked over to see what she was looking at. “Oh, Weasley gave me that a little while back, said he meant to give it to us after the beach but forgot.”

“And you decided to keep it on your bedside?”

“Of course. I don’t know if you noticed but only the most important people go there, and I didn’t have a picture with you before.” Sebastian said the words as if they were the most normal thing in the world while he climbed in next to her and lay down. “Do we get to cuddle too?”

“Do you want to?”

“Do I want - what kind of question is that, of course I want to cuddle,” Sebastian rolled his eyes at her playfully and tugged her over, his hand slipping over her waist. Y/N huffed out a laugh and placed an arm around his torso, her fingers trailing up and down his back soothingly. She felt his whole body relax against hers as he let out a content noise. “If you keep doing that I’ll be asleep in no time.”

“Good. You need it,” Y/N replied quietly. She ran her fingers through his hair, gently scratching his scalp before running back down his back again. 

“No, I need to thank you first.”

“You absolutely do not, but if you really want to, you can wait until morning.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Always.”

[osunism]

「Before It's Gone」

Rating: Explicit [MDNI] Pairing: Toji x fem!Reader Warning[s]: Explicit sexual content including cunnilingus, PIV sex, breeding, and praise kink. Summary: You and Toji are crazy about each other. He's just late to realizing it. [Fluff, a smidge of angst on Toji's part, and smut] Note: It's my first reader fic!

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. "Before It's Gone" by Jon B

AO3 ♱ OC Masterlist ♱ Fanfic Masterlist

     Toji doesn’t realize he’s crazy about you yet.

     Not when he’s coming through your door, taking up the whole frame, smirking down at you with those sharp green eyes, and that hungry glint in his eyes. You’ve got to stand up on your toes to reach him and he teases you, leaning over you to ghost his scarred lips over yours like the world’s deadliest feral cat.

     “Miss me, doll?” He purrs, chuckling when you bite your lip while his large hands grasp your hips, pulling you close, up and up until your feet are dangling and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist.

     Only then does he kiss you, and boy does he love kissing you.

     He’s got a thing for your pretty little mouth, dishing out sass and affection alike. He thinks your lips are like soft, velvety rose petals. He loves nibbling on the lower one, tugging it gently before biting just hard enough to hear you whimper.

     “Toji…” you mumble as he keeps kissing you.

     “Hn?” He doesn’t stop either, licking into your mouth, large hands cupping and supporting your rear, giving both cheeks a generous squeeze.

     “The door…” you giggle. And he looks back, sees the front door is still wide open. He chuckles, shutting it behind him before he gets back to the task at hand.

     “Thought about you everyday while I was gone,” he whispers into your yielding mouth. “Missed my pretty girl.”

     He carries you into the kitchen, setting you on the island counter, his hands rubbing your thighs affectionately, squeezing them until he’s sure he leaves an impression of his fingerprints there. You look up at him, and he looks down at you and there’s a tender bend to his mouth that makes his smile less sharp. It melts the frost in his eyes, makes the green appear warmer. He doesn’t realize he looks like this when he’s looking at you. The only time anyone stares at him this close is when he’s killing them. But you…

     You’re something else.

     He reaches up, cups your face like something precious, traces his thumb over the contour of your cheek, smirking when he feels the heat rushing and blooming under his touch. His thumb traces your lips, marveling at their softness. You smile and press a soft kiss to the pad of his thumb. That undoes him, makes nerveless heartstrings thrum with an old familiarity. He’s felt like this before, and never thought he’d feel this way again.

     And you look into his eyes and you see something you’ve never seen before: fear.

     Toji is afraid. Afraid of what it means when his heart lurches out of his chest everytime you giggle or laugh. Afraid of what it means when his lips twitch into a soft smile whenever your name pops up on his phone. Afraid of what it means when he’s eager to wrap up assignments and come home to you, to lay his head in your lap and feel all the half-buried ghosts of his life go quiet for a while. Most of all, he’s afraid he will lose you, as he has lost everything else he has ever been brave enough to care about so deeply.

     And while Toji is feeling all this fear well up inside him, you’re looking up at him with a tenderness he doesn’t feel he deserves. He blew into your life like a storm and you never complained. He disappeared and reappeared like a stray cat, but you always had a hot meal and a warm bath ready for him whenever he turned up on your doorstep. And eventually, you found yourself making a space for him, noticing the negative space of his absence when he was away, doing whatever dark and filthy work put that look in his eyes.

     “Toji, baby, what’s wrong?” You ask him, reaching up to cup his face in your hands, mimicking his earlier movements. He smiles at you as you trace the lines that carve out his face, and he leans in as you draw him down to press a soft kiss to his lips, tracing the scar at the corner of his mouth with your own.

     “Nothing, doll,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “Just glad to be home.”

     That’s what it is. That’s what he’s feeling with you. He leans in to nuzzle your neck, kissing the tender expanse skin all the way up to your pulse and your jawline. You sigh contentedly.

     “Let’s go to bed,” you whisper, and Toji doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls you to him as you wrap your arms and legs around him, and he carries you as if you weigh nothing, and you take this time to bury your face in the crook of his neck and inhale him. He smells like cologne, sweat, and gun oil. The muscles beneath are as hard as iron, yet Toji is as gentle as a butterfly with you. He is a man who knows his own strength and he’d break his own neck before he ever let harm come to you by his hands.

     “Ride’s over,” he teases, and you open your eyes to realize he’s standing at the edge of the bed. You shift as he lowers you down, and you’re once again made aware of just how big he is in general. Toji is a man who takes up space in any room he’s in. When you first got to know him, you felt a subtle unease in his presence, as if he were a cat on the verge of fear-biting or scratching. Eventually, you realized this presence was simply who he was. Whether he intended harm was something he had control over, and he’d never once given you reason to believe he’d ever harm you.

     Now, his size thrills you, in every way imaginable.

     You love the way his voice rumbles your name into your brown skin, the way he praises you in soft murmurs of affection.

     “You wanna take this off for me, baby girl?” He whispers in your ear, a hand crawling under your shirt, cupping your soft breast. You make a small little gasping noise as the rough pad of his thumb swipes over the dark bud of your nipple, smirking when it hardens immediately. You nod, not sure why it requires an answer. He leans back, watching you pull the shirt over your head, eyeing your pretty and perfect tits appraisingly. He looks like a wolf of a man, and you bite your lip, clad in nothing but your panties and thigh high socks. Toji thinks you’ve never looked sexier than right now.

     You spread your legs, and his eyes travel down, brow raising at the wet spot in your panties.

     “Already wet for me, pretty girl?” He teases. “I’m flattered.” He reaches down, traces the shape of your cunt through the damp fabric. He can feel it quivering, and you whine, shifting your hips involuntarily, chasing his touch and whimpering when he withdraws. He’s not going to let you get there so easily tonight, and you fix him with your best glare, full lips pouting. It amuses him, of course. You remind him of a hissing kitten, teeth not even sharp enough to sting, claws too tiny to break the skin. He teases the edge of your panties.

     “Toji…” you whimper. “Please…don’t tease me, baby…”

     Toji leans in between your spread thighs, pressing kisses along the soft flesh on either thigh, working his way closer until the rough edges of his scar trace the damp contour of your pussy through your panties. You make another noise, a desperate noise, and he laughs.

     “Use your words, baby,” he tells you, meeting your eyes, already pricked with tears of frustration. “Tell me what you want.”

     You feel your pussy throb at his words. He’s so close you can feel his breath on your quivering flesh. But he wants to hear you beg him for it, and so you naturally resist…or try to.

     But Toji is patient. His entire career is a testament to patience. He takes lives for a living, beloved. Your bratty resistance is nothing to him. Right now, the power is in his hands, and so are you, so if he wants you to beg him to fuck you with his tongue, that’s what you must do.

     “T-Toji…” you stammer his name at first, hips struggling against his inhuman strength, an exercise in futility. “Need your tongue inside me…pleasepleaseplease…”

     And then the words are coming out like a spray leak from a dam’s cracked exterior. Your feeble, bratty resistance shatters beneath the weight of your own desire and Toji grins.

     “Yeah?” He confirms, leaning in to press a soft, teasing kiss on the damp gusset of your panties. “This what you want, baby girl? Want me to give this pretty little pussy a nice long kiss?”

     You nod vigorously, chanting a chorus of yesplease. So well-mannered, and Toji rewards you, hooking a finger into your panties to slide them aside. You take smug satisfaction when you hear his soft, reverant swear at the sight of your naked cunt in his face. He traces your soaked folds with his fingers and your moan from the contact, spreading your legs wider.

     “Fuck, baby girl, you’re melting,” Toji whispers, spreading you open with two fingers to expose the swollen bud of your clit. He doesn’t give you time to prepare, leaning in to run the broad side of his tongue through your folds, groaning at the taste of you. Your mouth drops open in a soundless cry, before a small wail spirals out of you when Toji’s lips fasten around your clit and sucks in a pulsing rhythm. If it weren’t for his grip on your thigh, your hips would have stuttered into a gallop against his mouth. But Toji holds you still, forcing you to endure the endless compounding pleasure of his lips and tongue exploring every slick fold of your pussy. He pulls away briefly with a wet pop, his lips and chin glistening as he smirks up at you.

     “You look so pretty, baby,” he coos. “Think you can take me tonight?”

     He slips a finger into you as he says this, drawing out a moan from you as he begins to slide it in and out. Your pussy is talking to him, now, and slick squelching is the only sound in the bedroom before you nod your head. Yes, you can take him. You always try, but Toji is just so goddamn big you struggle sometimes.

     Tonight, however, he takes his time.

     He dives back in with his mouth, suckling your clit, rolling it between his lips and along his tongue, chasing the increased volume of your moans, and the wailing of his name as you beg him for release. Your pussy clenches tight around his finger before he adds another, increasing the sensation of being filled while his mouth works expertly.

     “Oh fuck…” you whine, reaching to grip the headboard. “Oh fuck…Toji…Toji…”

     Toji doesn’t let up. He keeps up the pumping of his fingers, crooking them upward to rub that spongey plane of flesh that makes your eyes roll back as you cum around his fingers and all over his face, moaning and whining incoherently as he finally—finally!—allows you to move your hips. Toji licks you clean, sucks his soaked fingers, and licks his lips with a low purr in his throat.

     “Mmm, you taste so fucking good, princess,” he says. “I could eat you all night, but I need to feel you cum around my cock tonight. You think you can do that for me, baby?”

     You nod, your eyes glassy with pleasure. Of course you can. As good as his mouth feels, his cock feels even better.

     Toji gives you a show, but it’s not the kind of show he knowingly puts on. He’s just one of those men that is effortlessly sexy by virtue of existing. He pulls his shirt over his head and your eyes rake over the rippling expanse of muscles that comprise him. It takes everything for you to not start panting like a dog when you spot that sexy, veiny Adonis V that vanishes into his pants. And when he comes out of his pants and briefs, freeing his cock, you can’t help but bite your lip, your cheeks burning with heat that has little to do with your first orgasm of the night.

     Toji knows you’re looking of course. He always knows. He smirks when he catches you staring at his cock, a thick and long length. He’s a lot to take in, quite literally. He reaches down and starts stroking himself slowly.

     “Come here,” you whisper to him and Toji, as dominant as he is, can’t help but come to you in that moment. Your voice is so soft and needy, and how can he resist when you open your arms and legs and welcome him like that? He moves with a panther’s lissome grace, and you’re reminded of what he is, what he does. He captures your mouth in a kiss, and your lips part beneath his with a soft moan.

     “You want it?” He whispers against your lips, forcing you to maintain eye contact. You can feel the heat from his cock brushing against your thigh.

     “Yes,” you whine softly against his lips, hungry for another kiss, which he indulges. “Toji please…need you inside me…please…”

     Toji angles his hips just so, and the blunt tip of his cock nudges it agaisnt your dripping entrance. He’s prepared you, though, and the initial stretch of him sliding into you is not as painful. In fact, it feels really, really good. As evident from how you moan loudly. Tears prick your eyes, and one spills down your cheek.

     “I know, I know, baby,” Toji coos, kissing your lips and then your cheeks, licking away the tears. He rolls his hips forward. “Almost there. You’re doing so good for me, baby girl. So fucking good…”

     He grunts as he rolls his hips again, withdrawing partially only to bury more of himself inside of you. You whine and sob, and then gasp as he hilts himself inside you, his pubes brushing your clit in a startling friction that has you moaning helplessly against him.

     “Mmph, baby…squeezing me so tight…” Toji growls against your lips. You whimper in response, your walls sucking at his cock greedily, as if you don’t want him to leave. You really don’t.

     Toji takes his time, looking at you and holding your gaze.

     “You ready?” He asks you and you nod. He kisses you deeply, and then he starts to fuck you.

     Normally, with Toji, he’s all rough and domineering, wanting to wring you limp with sweat and tears before he finally comes inside of you, growling and gripping you until his fingerprints are branded in your marrow. But tonight? Oh he wants you to be lucid for the ride. He’s tormenting you, making you gasp as he drags every inch of his massive cock out of you and then slides it back in with a fluid motion of his hips. It doesn’t take long for that rhythm to get you whimpering and pleading for him to never stop.

     “Ooo…Toji…don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop…” you beg, and he’s grinning at you, before you feel his hands sliding under your thighs, pushing them back, deepening the angle until the breath is a whine in your chest, until your eyes flutter and you let out a strangled, keening sound.

     Toji growls in approval. “Good girl…” he kisses you, devouring your whimpers and mewls like the wolf he is. “Good fucking girl…feel so fuckin’ good cummin’ around my cock. You want me to put a baby in you? Want me to fill this pretty little pussy up with my cum?”

     Your mind is still frazzled from the intensity of your orgasm to register your response, which is a babbling chorus of yesyesyesyesyesyesyes…please put a baby in me, Toji!

Toji’s got you in a mean mating press, now, leaning up to get a good look at your dripping cunt split around his cock. He reaches down, pulls his hips back just enough, and squeezes his fingers around the swollen lips of your pussy against his cock. He groans from the sensation and your back arches, walls clenching, and Toji resumes fucking you at a brutal pace.

     He just wanted to feel how tight a seam you create around his cock. You take him so well, which is no mean feat. And you take him deep.

     Every slap of his balls against your ass makes you yelp, and every thrust steals a gasp from you, words failing but the fucked out look in your eyes conveying everything Toji needs to understand you.

     “Yeah?” He teases you again, leaning down to nip at your plump lips. “You like the way I fuck you, princess? Like taking my cock so deep like this? Look at this pussy, baby. So fucking greedy.”

     You moan in response to his vulgarity, because it’s all true as far as you’re concerned. Yeah, your pussy is greedy for him, and why shouldn’t she be? Look at him!

     Toji teases your clit with his thumb, and he almost laughs at the shocked look on your face before he’s riding you at full gallop toward another orgasm.

     And when you cum, stars burst across your vision momentarily, like dancing lights all around the bedroom. Toji’s thrusts become ragged, losing rhythm, and you feel his cock pulsate inside of you as your walls spasm around him. He floods you with liquid heat as you moan his name. Toji takes it as a point of pride that he can get you to sing in bed the way you convince him to sing karaoke.

     He releases your legs, and they tumble loosely around him. This new closeness lets both of you indulge in slow, sloppy kisses, your arms tangling around his neck, fingers threading through his hair. He tugs your plump lower lip between his teeth.

     “Mmm, I love you so much, baby girl,” he groans, reveling in the sensation of his cock soaking inside of you as you kiss him tiredly, your eyes soft and blurred with pleasure.

     “Mmhmm,” you reply with a grateful little sigh. “You’d better…”

     You squeal when he pinches your hip in response, but neither of you seem inclined to stop kissing. Toji sits up a little to get a better look at your face.

     “You’re so damn gorgeous, baby, wish I could keep you like this forever,” he doesn’t know why he’s feeling so emotional looking at you. He hasn’t fully realized it yet. So you reach up and cup his face in your hands, holding his verdant gaze.

     “I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you tell him. “I’m right here.”

     Toji doesn’t know what’s happening to his heart, the way it stutters in his chest at your gentle words. He knows you mean it, knows that no matter how long he’s gone for, or what hour he drags himself exhausted and ragged through your door, you will never turn him away. He doesn’t understand why, because you ask nothing of him. At least, nothing he’s unwilling or unable to give you.

     He smiles, letting you draw him down for a kiss.

     He’s not quite ready for the dream to end just yet. He’s crazy about you, after all.

© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. All banners by @cafekitsune.

Member of the @pixelcafe-network.

[pupkashi]

migraine

gojo helps ease the pain of your migraine

a/n: hi friends ! i hope you’re all well and this brings you a bit of comfort when you need it <3 love u all so much :] (also theoretically could he use rct on u and help u idk so let’s just act like he can’t)

wordcount: 695

masterlist

it’s been hours since you got back home, head throbbing and tears pricking at your eyes from the pain. you’d done everything you could to ease the migraine, yet nothing seemed to help you. your efforts to fall asleep were fruitless, with the pain being too much to let you sleep.

you’d wanted to get the migraine pills from the cabinet, but you feared moving even an inch would send your head spinning in more pain.

it’s not much later that satoru walks in, you can hear the door open and close, his usual loud greeting is quick to die on his lips as he realizes the dark state of your shared residence.

he’s frowning as he enters the room as quietly as he could, whispering so he doesn’t make your migraine worse.

“have you taken medicine?” the slight shake of your head has you screwing your eyes in pain, tears slipping out. satoru doesn’t say anything as he grabs the two pills from the cabinet and a cup of water, helping you up and handing you the medicine.

you mutter a small ‘thank you’ before you close your eyes again, sighing in pain.

“you ate?” another shake of your head. gojo doesn’t berate you, as much as he wants to scold you he knows now isn’t the time, and he isn’t one to talk about self care.

so wordlessly he leaves, making a quick meal for you paired with caffeinated green tea, bringing it back to you and quietly asking for you to eat before you try and sleep again.

you try to refuse, making some sort of hissing and groaning noise, telling him to leave you alone, but even then he doesn’t budge. he only politely asks for you to at least take one bite.

minutes later you’re eating the food, finishing everything and thanking him quietly. he only smiles at you, asking if you need anything else from him.

when you say no he’s heading out the bedroom door, ready to leave you by yourself in hopes your migraine would pass quickly.

“toru” it was barely above a whisper, but he stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to continue, “will you stay?”

the words make your lover smile, his heart growing warmer in his chest as he replies with an ‘of course i will,’ hurrying off and washing the dishes before changing and slipping into the bed next to you.

you don’t waste time burying yourself into his side, he’s holding you closely, massaging your scalp gently. it’s only the sounds of the world outside, the whistling of the wind and the occasional dog bark. you can hear gojo’s steady breathing, your mind clearing a bit as you focus on his every breath rather than your racing thoughts that seems to make the pain worse.

it’s been an hour or two when the pain subsides enough for you to fall asleep, satoru doesn’t mind that you’ve trapped him underneath you. he’s more than happy to wiggle a bit and make himself cozy next to you, falling asleep with you despite it only being 8 pm and the sun only barely setting.

satoru doesn’t mind taking care of you when you get migraines, he’s patient and understanding, doing everything in his power to help ease your pain as much as he could. it doesn’t matter to him if it’s only an hour long or if it persists for days, he’s there to make sure you eat, drink and rest enough.

satoru is grateful when you finally tell him you’re feeling better, he’s scolding you for pushing yourself too much, an angry pout on his face that’s quickly kissed away by you.

“promise me you’ll try and get more rest?” he’s asking, he knows you’ll pull another all nighter the moment you have too much work to do.

“I’ll try angel boy” you reply, pulling him into your arms and letting his head rest on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair.

you were grateful to know when you got a migraine, there was always gonna be a snowy haired sorcerer at your side doing his best to help you.