#and it disappears as soon as I turn the light on

[luvvictoria]

I hope you're okay

+ pairings. simon "ghost" riley x f!reader

+ tags. romance, angst, hurt/comfort, soft but painful ending.

+ summary. Ghost never answers your messages. He never calls. He never promises to come back. But you still wait. And that’s what breaks him the most. One night, after another brutal mission, he reads your message—I hope you're okay. I’m waiting for you home. It should be simple, easy to ignore, just like the others. But it isn’t. It lingers, sinking into his bones, because you don’t ask for explanations. You don’t beg. You just hope. And he isn’t okay. He never is. But he locks the screen instead of answering — because he doesn’t deserve your concern, your patience, your unwavering faith in him. Yet somehow, he still ends up outside your house, gripping the wheel, staring at the light in your window. He shouldn't be here. Should’ve kept driving. But he couldn’t. Because no matter how far he runs, no matter how much blood stains his hands — He always comes back to you.

+song inspiration. Sper că ești bine - Sami G

+a/n. I was crying on this song so yeah, let's cry together

He shouldn’t have read it before the mission. Should’ve let it sit there, unopened, buried beneath all the other messages he never answered.

But he did.

Because his fingers had hesitated over the notification too long. Because the thought of you had curled too tightly in his chest, wrapping around his ribs like something alive, something hungry. Because, for one reckless, selfish second—

He let himself miss you.

So he opened it.

And the moment he saw your words, the moment he read that quiet, careful check-in—

Something in him fractured.

Sper că ești bine. Știu că ești plecat cu treabă, te aștept acasă. (I hope you’re okay. I know you left with work. I’m waiting for you home.)

A simple phrase. An innocent message. Just a handful of words typed out on a screen.

But it dug into his chest like a knife.

Because you didn’t ask where he was.

Didn’t demand answers. Didn’t plead for him to come home. Didn’t even ask if he missed you, if he still thought of you, if he still loved you—

You just hoped.

Hoped he was okay.

And he wasn’t.

He was cold. He was exhausted. He was covered in blood that wasn’t his. He was standing in the ruins of another nameless town, the air thick with smoke and the cries of the dying. He was watching bodies pulled from the wreckage, knowing that in a few hours, a few minutes, he’d add more ghosts to the ones already haunting him.

And you—

You were somewhere safe, somewhere warm, curled up in a bed too big for just one person, waiting for him.

Waiting for someone who never gave you certainty.

Never gave you promises.

Never gave you anything except the silence that stretched longer with each passing day.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard.

He could have said something. Anything. A word. A reassurance. A lie.

"I’m okay." "Be home soon." "Miss you."

But his hands clenched into fists. His breath came sharp, shallow, uneven. His chest ached with something he couldn’t name, something he didn’t deserve to feel.

And instead of typing, instead of answering—

He locked the screen.

Shoved the phone into his pocket.

And let the silence answer for him.

Because he didn’t deserve your concern.

Didn’t deserve your patience.

Didn’t deserve the way you never stopped waiting for him, even when he left you with nothing.

He wishes he had answered.

He wishes he had told you.

Told you the truth.

No.

No, I’m not okay.

But God, I wish I was.

I wish I could be okay—

For you.

And now he’s here.

Parked outside your house, staring at the warm glow spilling from your window like a man watching the last bit of light before night swallows it whole.

His fingers twitch against the steering wheel. He should leave. Should turn the key, press the gas, disappear before he does something stupid.

But he doesn’t.

Because he’s already done something stupid.

He let himself come back.

And now he’s sitting here like a fucking coward, pulse thudding against his ribs, watching the curtains shift in the breeze and wondering if you’re inside thinking about him the same way he’s been thinking about you since the second he left.

But he doesn’t deserve to wonder.

Not after the way he left. Not after the silence he left you with.

He remembers it too well — the way you had stood in the doorway that last time, watching him lace up his boots, arms wrapped around yourself like you were holding yourself together so he wouldn’t have to.

You didn’t ask him to stay.

You never did.

Maybe because you already knew the answer.

Or maybe because you knew that asking would hurt more than the leaving itself.

So you had just whispered, “Be safe, Simon.”

And he had just nodded. Just turned around, just walked away, just disappeared like he always did—

And never answered your messages.

Never called.

Never gave you the closure you deserved.

But now — now —the door opens before he can think too hard about turning back.

And there you are.

Standing barefoot in the doorway, swallowed up in one of his old hoodies, looking at him like a ghost had just stepped into your world.

His chest tightens.

You don’t say anything at first. Just stare.

And he thinks — Christ, he thinks — maybe this is worse than being shot at, worse than any wound he’s ever taken, worse than the battlefield, because he knows he did this to you.

Knows he’s the reason for the hurt sitting in your eyes.

Knows that even now — even now — you aren’t slamming the door, aren’t telling him to fuck off, aren’t demanding to know why he never answered—

You just breathe in, steady, quiet, and whisper—

"Hey. You made it."

Like you weren’t sure he would.

Like you thought he never would.

And maybe, if things were different, he wouldn’t have.

But they aren’t.

And he did.

And now he’s standing in front of you, fucking ruined, heart in his throat, hands twitching at his sides because all he wants to do is reach for you—

But he doesn’t.

Because he doesn’t deserve to.

You don’t say anything at first.

Just stare at him, bare feet on the cold floor, swallowed up in one of his old hoodies like it still belongs to him. Like he still belongs here.

Fucking hell.

His throat tightens, something sharp and awful clawing at his ribs, because the sight of you shouldn’t hit this hard. Shouldn’t make something crack open in his chest like an old wound torn fresh.

But it does.

Because you’re real. Because you’re here. Because even after all this time — after all the nights he spent convincing himself that he was better off staying away — you still look at him like he’s worth waiting for.

And that — that — is the cruelest thing of all.

Then, quietly — so softly, like you’re afraid he’ll slip through your fingers if you speak too loud — say again.

"You made it."

And he stops breathing.

Tu vrei ce-i mai bine pentru mine / Mai mult decât vreau eu pentru mine… (You want what’s best for me / More than I want it for myself…)

You always have.

Even when he couldn’t see it. Even when he didn’t believe it. Even when he did everything he could to push you away—

You still wanted him.

Still held onto him like he was something worth saving.

His hands twitch at his sides, aching with the need to reach for you. To pull you close, to bury his face into the curve of your neck and feel your warmth seep into his frozen skin. To remind himself that he’s still alive.

But he doesn’t move.

Doesn’t step forward.

Doesn’t deserve to.

So instead, he forces his dry throat to work, voice rough and useless against the weight in his chest.

"Sper că ești bine."

I hope you’re okay.

And the words taste bitter on his tongue.

Because he doesn’t know if you are okay.

Because he knows he left you alone with silence and empty space where he should’ve been.

Because if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s hurting the people who love him most.

And yet, somehow, impossibly—

You’re still here.

Looking at him. Still waiting.

And fuck, he doesn’t know if he has it in him to break your heart again.

But he also doesn’t know if he deserves the chance not to.

You swallow, blinking fast. Your voice is barely above a whisper.

"I am now."

Christ.

He almost drops right there.

Because that — that —is what breaks him. Not the gunfire, not the ghosts that follow him, not the bloodstains on his hands that never seem to fade—

This.

The way you look at him like he’s something worth waiting for. The way your voice trembles, but you don’t pull away, don’t shut the door, don’t turn your back on him like he fucking deserves.

You don’t demand answers. Don’t ask where he’s been. Don’t tell him to leave.

Because you already know.

Because you always know.

Imi vrei binele mai mult decât mi-l vreau eu, chiar dacă asta îți face rău… (You want what’s best for me more than I want it for myself, even if it hurts you…)

His breath comes sharp and unsteady, jaw clenching so tight it aches, because you shouldn’t do that.

Shouldn’t look at him like that.

Shouldn’t love him like that.

Shouldn’t keep putting him before yourself.

But you always have.

And he let you.

That’s the worst part — he fucking let you.

Let you hold onto him even when he knew he was slipping away. Let you reach for him even when he was already half out the door. Let you love him when he never once gave you certainty, never once promised you that he’d stay, never once did a single damn thing to make this easier on you.

And now, standing here, watching the way you breathe through the weight of him, the absence of him—

He hates himself for it.

Because the truth is, he never wanted to be someone you had to heal from.

Never wanted to be another wound you carried, another ache you learned to live with.

Never wanted to be the reason you stayed up at night, staring at your phone, hoping for a message that would never come.

But he was.

And you still chose him.

Even when it hurt. Even when he didn’t deserve it. Even when he made it so damn hard.

And for the first time in a long time, Simon Riley doesn’t know what to do.

Doesn’t know how to fix this.

Doesn’t know if he even can.

But what he does know — what he feels in every aching part of himself — is that if you tell him to stay, if you whisper his name the way only you can—

He won’t be able to walk away this time.

Because God help him, he doesn’t want to.

He shouldn’t be here.

Shouldn’t stand in the amber glow of your porch light, casting long shadows of the man he was, the man he pretends to be, the man you think you love.

Shouldn’t let you look at him like this — like he’s something soft.

Like he’s something worth waiting for.

Și dacă plec mâine, știu sigur că nu mă uiți… (And if I leave tomorrow, I know for sure you won’t forget me…)

And that thought — that thought — kills him.

Because it’s true, isn’t it?

Even if he walked away again, even if he never answered another call, another message—

You’d still wait.

Still leave a light on. Still sleep in his old hoodie. Still keep his ghost lingering in this house, in this space, in you.

And he hates himself for that.

Hates that he let himself become something you have to live with. A shadow in the corners of your mind, a whisper in the quiet moments, a ghost haunting your bed at night.

But still—

He steps forward.

Still lets his gloved hands rise, lets them tremble just slightly as they cup your face.

Still lets his forehead press against yours.

And when you don’t pull away — when you let him hold you like this, let him breathe you in, let him exist in this quiet moment of almost—

He finally exhales.

Because maybe — maybe — he’s been holding his breath since the day he left.

Because maybe home was never a place.

Maybe it was always you.

Your breath fans against his lips, warm, steady, grounding. And then, barely above a whisper — fragile, pleading —

"Are you staying this time?"

His chest tightens.

He doesn’t have the words. Doesn’t have a promise he won’t break, a lie sweet enough to make this easier, a reason good enough to make up for all the nights you spent alone.

So instead—

He murmurs — so quietly, so desperately, that it almost gets lost in the space between you —

"Mă întorc mereu la tine." (I always come back to you.)

Your hands clutch at the fabric of his jacket, fingers curling into him like you’re afraid he’ll slip away. Like you already know he will.

And he thinks — God, he knows —that if you ask him again, if you say his name with that same thread of longing, that same quiet ache—

He won’t be able to leave this time.

His thoughts drown out the steady beat of his pulse, tangled with every regret, every what if, every night spent away from you.

Iți iubesc defectele, adică ești perfectă… (I love your flaws, that means you’re perfect…)

Because you are.

Every little thing that makes you you — the stubborn set of your jaw, the way your hands are always warm, the way you say his name like it’s safe in your mouth — is what keeps him coming back.

Every piece of you is a tether, pulling him home.

And for the first time, he doesn’t fight it.

Doesn’t run from it.

"O să-ți fac orice poftă vrei, tu în schimb să fii lângă mine, baby." (I’ll give you whatever you want, as long as you’re by my side, baby.)

The words slip out before he can stop them. A promise. Maybe the only one he’s ever kept.

And maybe — just maybe — he’ll finally be brave enough to mean it.

[hisfavegirl]

Duty And Desire - Aegon I Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary : As you stood in the shadow of your duties, Aegon began to notice the smallest things about you—the way your eyes flickered when you thought no one was watching, the quiet strength you held within yourself. His words, when he spoke to you, lingered longer than they should have, making your heart race with a mixture of confusion and longing. But what began as mere moments of attention soon blossomed into something far more complicated. He was no longer just your king, and you were no longer just his wife. In his presence, the walls you had built around yourself began to crumble, and the desires you had long buried inside began to surface.

Word Count : 7.4k

Aegon I Targaryen Mastetlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

The laughter that fills the chamber is soft yet genuine, a rare moment of peace between the three of you. Rhaenys lounges beside you, her head resting in her hand as she watches you with a knowing smile. Visenya, ever poised, sits behind you, her fingers weaving through your hair with the skill and precision she applies to all things.

“You have been patient,” Rhaenys murmurs, her voice carrying the warmth of an elder sister who has always looked after you. “More patient than most would be in your place.”

Patient. The word makes something stir within you. You had been patient, waiting in the shadows while Aegon ruled, while his other queens shared his nights and bore him children. You had never demanded his attention, nor sought to claim what had never been freely given.

Visenya, quiet yet always watching, speaks next. “Aegon notices more than you think,” she says, her fingers tightening slightly around your braid as if to ground you. “He is not blind.”

You blink, turning slightly to glance at her over your shoulder. “If he notices, he does not show it.”

Rhaenys laughs, the sound rich and full of amusement. “Oh, little sister, you are clever, but in this, you are blind. The dragon may be slow to stir, but once he does, he does not turn away so easily.”

The thought lingers, curling around your mind like a whisper of prophecy. Aegon has never sought you out, never claimed you as he had his other wives. And yet, Visenya and Rhaenys speak as if something inevitable looms on the horizon.

“You think he will come to me?” you ask, almost hesitant to give voice to the question.

Visenya hums thoughtfully. “I think he already has.”

You frown, confused, but Rhaenys only smirks, as if she knows something you do not. You do not press them for answers, but as the night fades into morning, their words stay with you, curling like embers waiting to catch fire.

The morning air is crisp, the distant roar of dragons filling the skies as Rhaenys and Visenya take flight. You watch them disappear into the horizon, their dragons nothing more than specks against the vast sky. Unlike them, you remain on the ground, where you have always been—watching, waiting, but never truly seen.

You turn away from the sight, intending to return to your chambers when a voice stops you in your tracks.

“Come,” Aegon calls, his voice steady yet carrying an unmistakable command.

You hesitate for only a moment before following the sound of his voice. When you step into the dining hall, you find him already seated, a feast spread before him. His silver hair gleams under the morning light, his presence filling the room with an aura of quiet authority.

Wordlessly, you take your place beside him. The weight of his gaze is heavy, but you do not meet it. Instead, you keep your eyes lowered, focusing on the meal before you. Silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken words. You can feel him watching you, as if searching for something in your expression.

“You are quiet today,” Aegon finally speaks, his voice softer than before.

“I have little to say,” you reply simply, keeping your tone even.

He exhales sharply, as if amused by your defiance. “And yet, when you are with our sisters, your tongue is sharp enough.”

You glance at him then, finding a hint of something unreadable in his violet eyes. He is studying you, as he often does when he thinks you do not notice.

“If you wish for conversation, husband,” you say, voice carefully measured, “then you must ask the right questions.”

Aegon hums, leaning back in his chair. “Very well, then. Tell me—will you come to my chambers tonight?”

Your breath catches for the briefest moment, but you recover quickly. You should have expected this. You are his wife, after all. It is your duty to obey.

But you do not answer immediately. Instead, you hold his gaze, searching for something—perhaps sincerity, perhaps something more.

“Do you ask this as my husband or as my king?” you finally ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aegon tilts his head slightly, as if considering your words. “Does it matter?”

“It matters to me.”

For a moment, neither of you speak. Then, unexpectedly, he chuckles—a quiet, low sound that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You are not like them,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. “Visenya would command me. Rhaenys would tease me. But you… You always make me think.”

You lower your gaze once more, unsure of how to respond.

Aegon leans forward then, his voice dropping to something almost intimate. “Come to me tonight,” he says again, but this time, it is not an order. It is an invitation.

You do not answer. Not yet. But as you rise from the table, his words linger in your mind, curling around you like a flame waiting to consume you whole.

The candlelight flickers softly, casting golden hues across your chamber as you sit by your vanity, hands delicately folded in your lap. Your heart thrums an uneven rhythm beneath your ribs, anticipation curling in your stomach like a coiled serpent.

“Bring me the best,” you had told your handmaidens earlier. And so they had.

A gown of the finest silk drapes across your form, a deep shade that flatters your complexion. Your hair is carefully arranged, each strand in place, cascading in soft waves down your back. The scent of the most fragrant oils clings to your skin, a subtle mixture of jasmine and amber, meant to entice.

You exhale slowly, steadying yourself.

What am I doing?

It is not as if this is your first time in Aegon’s presence—he is your husband, after all. And yet, the weight of tonight feels different. He had not ordered you to his chambers; he had asked. The difference, however slight, sends your thoughts into disarray.

A soft knock at your door pulls you from your reverie, followed by the unmistakable sound of giggles.

Your eyes narrow even before the door swings open.

Visenya and Rhaenys stand before you, their faces alight with amusement, their matching violet eyes gleaming as they take in the sight of you—adorned and waiting.

“Oh, sister,” Rhaenys purrs, stepping into your room without invitation, her golden hair catching the candlelight. “You look like a bride on her wedding night.”

Visenya smirks, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Technically, she already had her wedding night. But I suppose it does not count if the groom never visited her bed.”

Your face heats instantly. “Must you both be so insufferable?”

Rhaenys twirls a lock of her hair, her grin widening. “We only came to check on you, dearest sister. Imagine our delight when we found you like this—dressed as if awaiting a lover.”

Visenya raises a brow. “Which, I assume, you are.”

You scowl, turning away as you fuss with the bracelets on your wrist. “Aegon asked me to come to him tonight.”

Rhaenys gasps in mock surprise. “Did he ask, or did he demand?”

You hesitate. “He… asked.”

That earns a genuine reaction from both of them. Visenya pushes off the doorframe, and Rhaenys tilts her head, intrigued.

“Interesting,” Visenya murmurs.

“You sound surprised,” you note, glancing at them.

Rhaenys folds her arms, considering. “Our dear brother, Aegon does not ask for things, sweet sister. He takes. For him to ask you to come to him… that is something new.”

You try not to let their words affect you, but a small, treacherous part of you holds onto them.

“So, tell us,” Visenya presses, her smirk returning. “Do you intend to go?”

You glance at the mirror, at your own reflection—the way the candlelight softens your features, the way the gown clings to your form. You think of Aegon, of his gaze lingering on you at breakfast, of the way his voice had softened when he spoke.

“I—”

Before you can answer, another knock sounds at the door. This time, it is not accompanied by laughter.

Your handmaidens scramble to open it, revealing a messenger dressed in the black and red of House Targaryen. He bows slightly before speaking.

“His Grace awaits you.”

Silence stretches in the chamber.

Rhaenys bites her lip, barely holding back a delighted smile. Visenya simply watches you, her expression unreadable.

Your heart pounds.

“Well?” Rhaenys teases. “Shall we escort you, dear sister? Or will you find your own way?”

You take a steadying breath and rise from your seat, smoothing out the fabric of your gown. You do not need an escort.

You walk past them, your head held high.

Let Aegon wait.

The door looms before you, the carved dragon sigil of House Targaryen illuminated by the soft glow of torches lining the hallway. You inhale slowly, willing your heart to steady.

Behind this door, your husband awaits.

Your fingers curl slightly against your gown as you steel yourself. You have shared meals, exchanged polite words, stood beside him in court—but this, standing outside his chambers in the dead of night at his request, is different.

The air is thick with anticipation as you finally lift your hand and push open the heavy door.

Inside, the chamber is warm, the glow of the fire casting long shadows along the stone walls. The scent of burning wood and aged parchment lingers in the air. Your gaze lands on Aegon immediately.

He is seated by the hearth, one leg stretched out lazily, a goblet of wine dangling from his fingers. The firelight flickers across his bare chest, his tunic hanging open, revealing the lean muscles of his torso. His silver hair is slightly tousled, as if he had run his fingers through it more than once.

His violet eyes lift to you the moment you step inside.

You see the way they move—slowly, deliberately—drifting from your face down the curves of your body, tracing the fine silk of your gown, lingering at the delicate swell of your waist before traveling lower. You feel the heat of his gaze as if it were a physical touch.

A shiver runs down your spine, though whether it is from the warmth of the chamber or the intensity of his stare, you cannot say.

You part your lips to speak, but before you can utter a single word, Aegon moves.

He rises from his chair with unhurried ease, his tunic slipping further off his shoulder, exposing more of the smooth, pale skin beneath. His steps are soundless as he approaches, closing the distance between you in mere moments.

Then—click.

The sound of the door locking behind you sends a jolt through your chest.

Aegon stands before you now, mere inches away. He does not touch you, not yet, but his presence alone feels overwhelming, like standing too close to a flame.

He tilts his head slightly, studying you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “You hesitated outside my door.”

You swallow. “You heard me?”

“I always hear you.”

The words send a different kind of warmth through you.

Aegon leans in, his breath fanning against your cheek. “Why did you come?”

You know why. You know what he expects to hear. But something about the way he asks—the way his voice lowers, rich and smooth—makes you pause.

“Because you asked me to,” you admit softly.

He hums, as if pleased by your answer. “And if I were to ask something more of you?”

Your breath hitches, but you do not look away. “That depends on what you ask, husband.”

His lips curve into a slow, knowing smirk. “I think we both know what I want from you.”

His fingers reach up, brushing against your wrist, a touch so light it is almost a whisper. Your pulse quickens.

“Tell me, sweet wife,” Aegon murmurs, his voice a low purr. “Will you give yourself to me tonight?”

Your breath is steady, but your heart is not.

Aegon’s fingers are slow as they work on the delicate buttons of your gown, each one undone with an excruciating patience that sets your skin aflame. His eyes, violet and piercing, do not leave yours—not even for a moment.

“You say it is your duty,” he murmurs, his voice like silk laced with something darker. “But is that all this is to you?”

You swallow, your throat suddenly dry.

“I am your wife,” you say, though the words feel small in the space between you. “It is my duty to—”

He exhales sharply, cutting you off. “Duty.” He repeats the word like it offends him. “I did not summon you to fulfill an obligation.”

Another button undone. Then another.

“I want all of you,” he continues, his tone lower now, rougher. “Not just because you must. But because you want to.”

You shiver at the weight of his words.

Aegon’s fingers brush against your collarbone, tracing the newly exposed skin with a featherlight touch. His warmth seeps into you, making your breath hitch. He tilts his head slightly, studying you with an expression that is unreadable.

“Tell me, sweet wife,” he murmurs, leaning in so that his lips hover just above the shell of your ear. “Do you want this? Do you want me?”

Your pulse pounds in your throat.

You could lie. You could tell him what he expects to hear, what a dutiful wife should say. But something about the way he looks at you—hungry yet patient, demanding yet restrained—makes you hesitate.

You have watched Aegon from the shadows for so long. You have seen him fight, drink, command armies, laugh with your sisters. But now, here, in the quiet of his chambers, you see him as something else. A man who, despite his crown, wants not power, but you.

Your hands, trembling yet determined, lift to his chest, pressing against the exposed skin there. You feel his heartbeat beneath your palm—steady, strong, waiting.

“I want this,” you whisper.

His breath stirs against your cheek. “Say it again.”

You meet his gaze, your voice steadier this time. “I want you, Aegon.”

A sharp exhale leaves him, and then his hands are on you—not rough, not hurried, but firm. He peels the silk from your shoulders, letting it slip down your arms, pooling at your feet. The cool air kisses your bare skin, but you barely register it.

Aegon lifts a hand to your face, cradling your jaw as he studies you, as if memorizing every inch of you.

“You are mine,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “And tonight, I will make sure you never forget it.”

And then, finally, he kisses you.

Aegon cradles you in his arms as if you weigh nothing, his grip firm yet gentle as he carries you toward the massive bed draped in silk. His lips never leave yours, and you can feel the hunger in his kiss, the restrained desperation that has been brewing for so long.

The moment your back meets the soft bedding, he hovers over you, his body pressing into yours, yet he does not rush. His thumb brushes over your cheek, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes you shiver.

"You have no idea how long I have waited for this," he murmurs, his voice thick with something unreadable.

Your breath catches. "Aegon-"

He silences you with another kiss, slow and deep, drawing the air from your lungs. He kisses you as if savoring every second, as if this moment is something sacred to him. When he pulls away, his violet gaze is darker, filled with emotions you cannot name.

"You are the only one who has never demanded anything from me," he says, his fingers tracing the outline of your lips. "Not power. Not a crown. Not a child. You have given me nothing but your presence, your quiet loyalty—" He exhales sharply, his jaw tightening. "And yet, you are the only one I have ever wanted."

Your heart clenches at his words. You had always been the overlooked wife, the quiet one, the one people whispered about because Aegon had never called for you as he had his other wives. You had assumed it was because he did not desire you, that you were merely a political arrangement, a piece on the board of conquest.

But now, here he is, looking at you as if you are the only thing that matters. Your fingers trail over his tunic, tracing the exposed skin of his chest, feeling the warmth beneath your touch. "If you wanted me, why did you wait so long?"

Aegon smirks, but there is something almost vulnerable in his expression. "Because I was a fool," he admits. "Because I did not want to ruin you." He leans closer, his lips grazing the corner of your mouth. "You are not like the others. You are not meant to be caged or conquered."

Your breath shudders at his words. "Then what am I meant for?"

His fingers slide down your arm, his grip tightening slightly. "For me," he whispers. "You were meant for me."

A silence falls between you, thick with the weight of unspoken truths.

Then, slowly, His fingers skim over your bare skin, eliciting a gasp from your lips. He watches you, his gaze never straying, as if committing every inch of you to memory.

"You are mine," he murmurs, his hands framing your waist. "Say it."

Your throat is dry, your pulse wild, but you manage the words. "I am yours"

A satisfied hum leaves him. He presses his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "And I am yours," he confesses, as if it is a secret only meant for you. "Tonight, I will prove it to you."

As soon as Aegon pushes into you, a sharp pain spreads through your body, and a soft cry escapes your lips. Your fingers clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as your body struggles to adjust to the unfamiliar intrusion. Aegon stills above you immediately, his breath ragged, his hands framing your face with unexpected gentleness.

"Shh," he whispers, pressing a kiss to your damp cheek. "I'm sorry, love. I know it hurts." His voice is rough, thick with restraint. "Breathe. Just breathe, sweet girl."

Tears well in your eyes as you cling to him, your body trembling. It is too much, too overwhelming, but Aegon does not move. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing soft kisses along your skin, whispering soothing words against your ear.

"You are doing so well," he murmurs, his fingers tracing delicate patterns over your sides. "So perfect for me."

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to will the discomfort away, trying to focus on the warmth of his body against yours, the way his hands never stop moving, never stop comforting you.

"Tell me what you need," he says softly, his lips ghosting over your temple. "I'll do whatever you ask of me."

You hesitate, then exhale shakily. "Just... give me a moment."

Aegon nods, his forehead pressing against yours. His fingers intertwine with yours, holding your hands tightly as if anchoring you to him. The pain begins to dull, slowly replaced by a strange warmth that spreads through your limbs. You shift slightly beneath him, and Aegon groans, his control slipping for a brief second before he catches himself.

Your name leaves his lips in a desperate whisper, his hands tightening around yours. "Gods, you feel-" He cuts himself off, exhaling harshly. "Tell me when."

You swallow, meeting his gaze. His violet eyes are darker than you have ever seen them, filled with longing and something deeper, something raw. He is waiting, holding himself back for you.

A flicker of courage sparks in you. You nod. "Now."

Aegon curses under his breath, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips before he moves, slow and careful. The pain still lingers, but there is something else now-a heat coiling in your stomach, a sensation unfamiliar yet not unpleasant.

"That's it," Aegon breathes, watching your face for any sign of discomfort. "You're taking me so well."

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he deepens his thrusts, still gentle, still measured, but more confident now. A soft gasp leaves your lips as the pleasure begins to build, overtaking the pain. Aegon notices, his lips curling into a knowing smirk as he kisses your jaw, your neck, the sensitive spot just below your ear.

"You like that, don't you?" His voice is husky, teasing. "I can feel you squeezing me, little wife."

A whimper escapes you, and Aegon groans, his movements growing slightly more insistent. His hand slides down, tracing the curve of your waist, your hip, before gripping your thigh and pulling you closer.

"You were made for me," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours. "Say it."

Your head feels light, your body burning beneath him, consumed by the sensations he is giving you. "I-" You swallow hard, your voice trembling. "I was made for you."

Aegon growls in satisfaction, his lips crashing against yours. He drinks in your gasps, your moans, his pace quickening as he chases the pleasure that coils between you both.

"'I'll never let you go," he vows against your lips. "Never."

Aegon grips your hips tightly, his breath hot against your ear. His voice is low, possessive.

"Don't hold back," he murmurs. "I want them to hear you. I want them to know you're mine."

Your cheeks burn at his words, but before you can protest, he moves-faster, deeper, his thrusts becoming more demanding. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, and he groans in approval.

"That's it," he praises, his hands sliding up your back, pressing you closer against him. "Let them hear who you belong to."

Your nails dig into his shoulders as pleasure overtakes you, your body trembling beneath him. You try to muffle your sounds against his neck, but Aegon isn't having it. He grips your jaw, tilting your head back so he can see your face.

"Say my name," he commands. "Louder."

You barely recognize your own voice as you cry out, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer. Aegon groans, his own control slipping.

His movements become rougher, more desperate, as if he can't get enough of you.

"You feel so perfect," he rasps. "Like you were made for me.

Your legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he curses under his breath. His forehead presses against yours, his breath mingling with yours as he drives you both closer to the edge.

And then—he finds it. That spot inside you that makes your entire body jolt. Your head falls back against the pillows, a broken moan escaping you. Aegon smirks, his grip tightening.

"There," he growls. "That's the spot, isn't it?"

You can only whimper in response, the pleasure overwhelming. Aegon's pace grows relentless, chasing your release with singleminded determination.

"Come for me," he urges, his lips brushing against yours. "Let go."

Your body obeys before your mind can catch up, pleasure crashing over you in waves. Your back arches, your voice raw as you cry out his name. Aegon follows moments later, a deep groan rumbling in his chest as he buries himself inside you, claiming you completely.

For a moment, there is only the sound of your ragged breathing, the heat of his body pressed against yours. Aegon brushes damp hair from your face, his gaze soft despite the hunger that still lingers in his eyes.

"Mine," he whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. "And I'll never let you forget it."

You looked at aegon hesitantly, the question you wanted to ask was too risky. he opened his eyes and realized that you were watching him "What do you want to ask sweet wife?"

Hesitantly you murmured, "Are you not satisfied with me?" your voice is less than a whisper.

Aegon blinks at you, momentarily stunned by your question. His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. His golden hair is tousled, his skin still warm from the intimacy you just shared.

"Not satisfied?" he repeats, his voice thick with disbelief. He studies your face, searching for the source of your doubt.

You avoid his gaze, feeling foolish for asking. "I just... I know with Rhaenys and Visenya, you wouldn't stop. I heard the servants talk about it." Your fingers play with the fabric of the sheets, unable to meet his eyes. "But with me, you just stop. I just-"

Aegon cuts you off with a deep chuckle, his hand cupping your cheek, tilting your face to look at him. "Do you truly think I would have stopped if you had asked?" His smirk is teasing, but there's something more in his gaze-something raw, something possessive. "Or do you think you could have even found the words to ask me to?"

Heat rushes to your face as the memories of the night flood your mind. No, you hadn't asked him to stop. You hadn't even thought about it. From the moment he touched you, all logic had left your mind, leaving only the overwhelming desire to have him closer, deeper, forever.

Aegon's thumb brushes against your lower lip. "I've had many nights with them, yes," he admits, his voice quieter now. "But none like this." He leans in, his breath warm against your lips.

"With them, it was duty. An expectation." He presses a slow kiss to the corner of your mouth before whispering, "But with you... gods, with you, I couldn't stop even if I wanted to."

Your breath catches at his words, at the intensity of his confession. Aegon had never spoken to you this way before-not as a husband merely fulfilling an obligation, but as a man who had wanted you, who had lost himself in you.

His lips trail along your jaw, his voice growing husky. "Tell me, my queen, did you want me to stop?"

You shake your head without hesitation, and Aegon chuckles darkly. "| thought so."

He shifts on top of you again, his fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin. "And if you still have any doubts," he murmurs, lips brushing against your ear, "perhaps I should remind you just how much I want you again."

His hands move, his touch reigniting the fire between you, and you realize that you will never again question whether Aegon Targaryen desires you.

You could feel him holding back, "You don't need to hold back Aegon" He freezes at your words, his hands stilling against your skin. His violet eyes darken, his brows furrowing slightly as he searches your face. The muscles in his jaw tense as if he's holding something back, something raw and dangerous.

"You don't understand," he murmurs, voice rough. His fingers tighten on your waist, not enough to hurt but enough to keep you grounded. "If I let go, if I take you the way I truly want, I might break you."

You shiver at his confession, at the sheer restraint he has been holding onto this entire time. Aegon Targaryen, your husband, the conqueror, the dragon-he is afraid. Afraid of hurting you.

But you are a dragon too. You have been raised among them, molded by their fire, and you are not fragile.

You cup his face, your thumb grazing the scar that runs along his cheekbone. "Aegon," you whisper, meeting his gaze without hesitation. "I know what I'm asking for. I know who you are." Your fingers slip into his hair, tugging gently. "I am not some delicate thing that will shatter under your touch. I am your wife. And I want you-all of you."

Aegon's breath shudders. His hands tremble as he grips your hips. His restraint, his control —it's hanging by a thread.

"You say that now," he mutters, his voice strained, his forehead pressing against yours. "But when I take you the way I want-"

"Then take me," you interrupt, your lips brushing against his. "Show me."

Aegon lets out a low growl, his patience finally snapping. His mouth crashes against yours, consuming you with a hunger that has been caged for far too long. His hands grip you tightly, pulling you flush against him, and you feel the shift instantly-the loss of restraint, the unraveling of his carefully controlled passion.

"You asked for this," he warns, his voice a deep rasp against your ear. "Don't beg me to stop later."

You meet his eyes, fire burning in your own. "I never will."

Aegon groans, something between reverence and possession. Then, he moves, his grip unrelenting, his body pressing you down into the mattress as he claims you without hesitation, without holding back.

You gasp, arching against him, your fingers clawing at his back as he takes what is his— what has always been his. Aegon kisses you fiercely, swallowing your cries as he moves with a desperate need that shakes through both of you.

"Mine," he growls against your skin. "You are mine."

And for the first time, there is no hesitation, no fear. Only fire. Only you and him, burning together.

Aegon's laughter rumbles deep in his chest as he watches you writhe beneath him, his grip on your chin firm but not painful. His violet eyes burn with something primal, something possessive, and the heat of it makes your breath hitch.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his thumb stroking your lower lip. "So beautiful, so perfect like this. My little queen, coming undone beneath me."

You whimper his name, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he moves with deliberate, punishing thrusts. Each one sends shockwaves through your body, making your mind hazy, your vision blur.

Aegon chuckles darkly, leaning down to kiss your forehead, his lips soft against your overheated skin. But his next words send a fresh shudder through you.

"I want my heir in you," he whispers, his voice thick with desire. "I want to see you swollen with my child, to watch you carry the blood of the dragon inside you."

Your breath falters, a soft moan slipping past your lips at his claim. He watches your reaction closely, smirking at the way you tremble beneath him.

"Do you want that, sweet wife?" he taunts, slowing his movements to a deep, languid pace that has you gasping. "Do you want to give me my heir?"

"Aegon-" You whisper his name like a prayer, your fingers curling into the sheets, your body arching into his.

"Say it," he demands, his grip tightening on your waist, his breath warm against your lips. "Say you want to carry my child."

Your heart pounds, your mind swimming in the overwhelming sensation of him-his heat, his strength, his desire. And when you finally find your voice, you give him what he wants.

"Yes," you breathe, your eyes locking onto his. "I want it, Aegon. I want to give you an heir."

Aegon groans, his control snapping completely as he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his body moving against yours with renewed intensity. His hands roam possessively over your skin, his touch branding you as his own.

"You are mine," he growls against your lips. "And soon, the whole realm will know it."

Aegon watches you, mesmerized by the way your body moves beneath him, how your breasts bouncing with every thrusts he gave you, how your lips part as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. His name spills from your lips like a prayer, your nails digging into his arms as he drives into you with a pace that leaves no room for escape.

"Gods," he groans, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. "You have no idea how beautiful you are like this, how perfect you look beneath me."

You barely register his words, your mind lost in the overwhelming pleasure he's giving you. But Aegon isn't done yet. His hands grip your hips tightly, anchoring you to him as he slows his thrusts, dragging out each movement with a teasing precision that has you whimpering.

"Open your eyes, sweet wife," he commands, his voice rough, edged with desperation.

You force your eyes open, meeting his gaze-wild, filled with fire, with something deeper, something that shakes you to your core. His hand cradles your jaw, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

"You always ask why I won't let you join the war," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your parted lips. "It's because I can't lose you."

Your breath catches, his words sinking in even as your body trembles beneath him. His grip tightens, his eyes burning into yours.

"I can fight battles, I can burn cities, but if i were to lose you-" He shakes his head, his movements becoming more erratic, more desperate. "I would lose myself."

Your hands cup his face, pulling him down for a kiss, slow and deep, pouring everything you feel into it. Aegon groans into your mouth, swallowing your sighs, his body claiming yours completely.

"You belong to me," he whispers against your lips. "And I will never let anything take you away from me."

And with that, he thrusts into you one last time, his body tensing, his grip on you bruising as he finally finds his release, pulling you over the edge with him.

He collapses against you, his breath heavy, his heart pounding wildly against your own. And in the quiet after, as he holds you close, his arms wrapped around you like a shield, you know that there is no place safer than here, in his embrace.

Aegon's breath hitches as you slowly lift yourself onto his lap, your thighs trembling from exhaustion, but you ignore it. Rhaenys's words echo in your mind-Aegon likes it when you take control. And now, as you straddle him, his hands resting uncertainly on your waist, you see the truth in it. His violet eyes widen slightly in surprise, his lips parting as if to say something, but no words come.

Instead, you lower yourself onto him, taking him in inch by inch, and a deep groan rumbles in his chest. His grip on your waist tightens, fingers digging into your skin as if to steady himself.

"Gods," he breathes, his head falling back against the headboard. "You're going to be the death of me, sweet wife."

A small, breathy laugh escapes you as you place your hands on his shoulders, your fingers tracing the muscles there, feeling them tense beneath your touch. You move slowly at first, rolling your hips experimentally, and Aegon's response is immediate—a low, strangled moan, his hands sliding up your back before gripping your hair and pulling you in for a bruising kiss.

"You enjoy this, don't you?" he murmurs against your lips, his voice laced with amusement, but also something deeper— something desperate.

You meet his gaze, your cheeks flushed, your breaths shallow. "You do too," you whisper, testing your power over him by shifting your hips again. His whole body tenses beneath you, his nails pressing into your skin.

His laugh is rough, almost breathless. "I do." His hands trail down to your hips, guiding your movements now, his patience slipping away as he urges you to move faster. "Take what you want from me, my love. I am yours."

The way he says it-so open, so raw-sends shivers down your spine. You move with newfound confidence, chasing your own pleasure, and Aegon watches you with something akin to awe. His hands never leave your body, touching you wherever he can, like he's memorizing you, like he needs to feel you to believe this moment is real.

"You look divine," he murmurs, his voice strained. "Like a queen sitting on her throne."

You whimper at his words, at the fire in his eyes, and he groans when you clench around him in response. His head falls forward, his lips finding your throat, his teeth grazing your skin before he kisses the spot tenderly.

"I should've taken you like this from the start," he mutters, his hands gripping your hips tighter. "Should've let you ruin me."

Your heart pounds at his confession, at the way he surrenders to you so completely. You lean down, capturing his lips with yours in a slow, deep kiss, and Aegon swallows your moans, his arms wrapping around you as if to fuse your bodies together.

He's close now-you can feel it in the way his cock start twitching inside of you, in the way his grip tightens, his breath growing heavier. And when you finally tip over the edge, calling his name like a prayer, he follows immediately after, his arms holding you close as he loses himself in you completely.

For a long moment, neither of you move. You simply rest against him, your foreheads touching, your breaths mingling. Aegon's fingers trace lazy patterns against your back, his hold on you possessive yet tender.

"You are my undoing," he murmurs, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder. "And I would let you ruin me over and over again."

A soft smile tugs at your lips as you curl against his chest, and for the first time since your marriage began, you feel like you truly belong to him-not just as his wife, but as his equal, as the only one who could ever bring the mighty Aegon the Conqueror to his knees.

Aegon moves swiftly, his strong hands gripping your waist as he flips you onto your back. A surprised gasp escapes your lips, but he silences it with a deep kiss, his body pressing down against yours, molding you into the mattress beneath him. His warmth surrounds you, his presence consuming every inch of your being.

He pulls away just enough to meet your gaze, his violet eyes burning with something primal, something possessive. "Mine," he murmurs, his voice rough yet tender. "Say it."

You shudder beneath him, your hands sliding up his arms to grasp his shoulders. "Yours, Aegon. I'm yours."

A dark smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, satisfied with your answer, and then he moves -slow, deliberate, sinking himself back into you as if to claim you once more. You arch into him, your nails digging into his back as waves of pleasure roll through you.

"Gods," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "You feel-" His words cut off as he thrusts deeper, eliciting a breathy moan from you. He shudders, his lips grazing your skin. "So perfect. So fucking perfect."

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, wanting to feel all of him. He grunts at the movement, his pace faltering for a brief moment before he grips your thighs, anchoring himself to you.

"I've waited for this," he confesses, voice hoarse with need. "For you." He lifts his head, his nose brushing against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Do you know how long I've dreamed of this, of you?"

Your heart stammers at his words, your fingers tangling in his silver hair. You press a soft kiss to his lips, whispering, "Then take me, Aegon."

A guttural sound escapes him, something between a growl and a moan, and he does exactly that. He moves with purpose, with possession, as if trying to engrave himself into your very soul. His hands roam your body, memorizing every dip and curve, his lips leaving a trail of fire wherever they touch.

And as the pleasure builds, as the world outside this bed fades away, you whisper to him again and again, "I love you, Aegon."

His movements slow for a fraction of a second, his eyes widening slightly as if caught off guard. Then, a soft, almost reverent smile spreads across his lips, and he leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss so deep it steals your breath.

"I love you too," he murmurs against your lips, his voice raw with emotion. "More than you'll ever know."

And with that, he drives into you once more, worshiping you, claiming you, making sure that from this night forward, there will be no doubt in your mind-you belong to him, just as he belongs to you.

Aegon watches you with hunger in his violet eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips as he drives into you relentlessly. Your body arches, seeking more of him, your hands clutching his shoulders like a lifeline. Every thrust steals the breath from your lungs, every movement sending you spiraling further into oblivion.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "So beautiful like this-mine to take, mine to ruin."

Your lips part, a broken moan escaping as his hands roam your body. He knows exactly where to touch, where to press, where to make you lose yourself completely. You're drowning in him, your senses overwhelmed by his scent, his warmth, the sheer dominance of his presence.

"Aegon-" His name falls from your lips like a prayer, your voice trembling.

He chuckles darkly, his grip tightening on your hips as he pulls you closer, deeper. "Say it again," he commands, his breath hot against your ear.

You obey without hesitation, your nails digging into his back as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. "Aegon-please-"

He growls at your desperation, his pace growing rougher, more desperate. His hands slip beneath your thighs, lifting your legs higher so he can bury himself even deeper.

The sensation is too much, your body trembling, your head thrown back as you come undone beneath him. His gaze locks onto your face, mesmerized by the way your lips part, the way your eyes squeeze shut in pure bliss. "Gods, you're perfect," he rasps, his movements never slowing.

You barely have time to catch your breath before he shifts, flipping you onto your stomach. A gasp leaves you as he presses his chest against your back, his lips tracing the curve of your neck. His hands slide down your body, gripping your waist as he enters you again, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through you.

Your fingers grasp at the sheets, your voice breaking into breathless cries. "Aegon-"

"That's it," he groans, his teeth grazing your shoulder. "Let them hear you. Let them all know who you belong to."

Your mind is a haze, your body nothing but fire and sensation. He's relentless, pushing you further, pulling you under until you're lost in him completely. Your world narrows to the feeling of him, the sound of his breath, the way he whispers your name like a promise.

When you shatter again, it's with his name on your lips, his hands holding you close, grounding you even as he takes you apart. And as the pleasure fades, as your body melts into his, he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his fingers tracing circles against your skin.

"You're mine," he murmurs against your ear, his voice softer now, filled with something deeper, something more. "And I'll never let you go."

You turn your head to meet his gaze, and for the first time, you see it-love, raw and unguarded, shining in his violet eyes. A slow smile curls on your lips as you whisper back, "I was always yours, Aegon."

Aegon's arms tighten around you, his breath warm against the nape of your neck as his fingers trace slow, deliberate circles over your stomach. His touch is almost reverent, as if he's memorizing the shape of you beneath his hands. You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against your back, the way his grip lingers as if he's afraid to let go.

"I should have taken you sooner," he murmurs, his voice tinged with something between regret and longing. "Should have claimed you the moment you were mine."

You turn slightly in his embrace, your fingers reaching for his hand, gently lacing your fingers with his. "You have me now," you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles. "And I will give you what you want, Aegon. I will bear your children."

A sharp inhale escapes him, his arms tightening instinctively as he buries his face against your shoulder. His lips press against your bare skin, lingering there, his exhale warm and shaky. "You don't know what that means to me," he admits, his voice quieter now, stripped of its usual arrogance.

"Sleep, my queen," he murmurs against your ear, his fingers idly tracing patterns on your stomach.

You sigh in contentment, resting your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Goodnight, my king."

And as your eyes flutter shut, you know this is only the beginning.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

Wild Gods

Part 1

M!tiger god x f!reader

After the worst humiliation of your life you fled into the surrounding woods to clear your head and get some distance from it all. The beautiful ruins you stumbled into however held more than just history, a mysterious being there seems so believe that you are his long lost mate.

(Based off the ask here!)

————

Literal blood, sweat and tears down the drain. Years of practicing and refining your spell until perfection only to be turned away. It wasn’t fair! You did everything right and still the council turned you away! All of your friends were accepted though, only adding to your own disappointment.

You muttered a quick “thank you for your time” before leaving, your face red with both anger and sorrow. Once you were far enough away from the gathering you ran, you weren’t sure to where you were running, but you couldn’t go home to face to your family quite yet.

Farther and farther into the surrounding woods you ran until trees gave way to flowers. Beautiful, fragrant flowers adorning ruins. Even crumbling away the ruins still held such majesty, and the sweet smell of the flowers was so familiar and stirred something in you.

Many times had you ventured into the woods to gather reagents, though you had never stumbled across these ruins before. The woods here were well explored, but you had never heard of anything like this in them.

You wandered farther into them, there was something weirdly soothing about walking around here, which was appreciated about now. Well, it was soothing until you heard the crunch of gravel from behind you. Quickly you turned and swore you caught a long, feline tail that disappeared into the dense foliage, too fast to be able to tell if your eyes were just playing tricks on you, though now you also swore you were being watched.

You started to run, something was here with you and you were not keen on finding out exactly what it was, though at soon as you turned to move you collided with something. Someone.

He stood tall and regal, with the head of a tiger and covered with soft, mottled fur that was warm where your face was against his chest after running into him. Light reflected off the gold bangles adorning his wrists and he quickly moved to hold you against him. He placed a hand under your chin to tilt your face up to his, his tail wrapping around one of your legs.

“There you are, my queen. I have been waiting so long for you” he nearly purred.

You tried to pull away, but his grip on you was too tight.

“Who are you?” you asked.

“The lord of this place, though you know that” he was purring and nuzzling the top of your head.

You squirmed against him more, trying to get away though he showed no intent on releasing you.

“I have waited so long for you to return to me. So long here alone. But you have returned to me at last, my mate.”

“I, I don’t-” you stammered, trying to wrap your mind around the situation, “I’m not.”

“I would know you anywhere, my mark is on your very soul. You are my mate returned to me, do not shy away.”

Your pulse was rising in your throat, fear gripping you and taking over. You felt as though you could pass out, this strange being speaking as if he knew you.

“You were taken from me too soon before, but I will not let them take you from me again” his grip on you tightened, clawed hands digging into your skin, “This time I will rebuild my kingdom with you at my side. This time you will accept my gift this time and reign at my side. Our children will grow proud and strong, our daughters more radiant than the sun and our sons stronger than the mountains.”

Slowly he had backed you against a column, pinning you between the cool, smooth stone and his own well built form. His breath was warm on your neck as he nuzzled against you and you felt him grinding his hips against you.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt them tearing up. You failed at your life’s ambition, you had no idea how to go home and face your family, no idea how to carry on with your life now, and now you were trapped by this strange being.

“You are… scared?” he asked.

You cracked your eyes open to see him looking down at you, a sad expression on his face and his brow knitted together in confusion.

“You truly do not remember me at all?” he asked.

Unable to find you words you just shook your head. His grip on you loosened and his tail dropped from where it was wrapped around your leg.

“I’ve waited so long” he started again, “And you look at me like a stranger.”

“I don’t, I don’t know who you are” you stammered out, “You have the wrong person.”

“No!” an edge of almost anger slipped into his voice, but dropped almost immediately, “It is etched on your very soul, I would know you anywhere. And even after a thousand years your soul still drew you back here, back to me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, glad he was no longer pressed against you at least, but you had no idea what to do now. Returning home meant facing your family in shame, explaining that all your years of hard work were for nothing, that of all your friends you were the only one not accepted to the council. You had nowhere else to go, and now this strange being was convinced that you were his mate.

“You are finally home at least” he purred, “Come, let me help you get settled in, maybe you will remember then.”

You did not know why, but you followed him between the crumbling walls of the ruins, you supposed you really had nowhere else to go anyways.

“What are these flowers?” you asked.

“Jasmine, your favorite. You planted them here all those years ago.”

The ruins were an absolute labyrinth, every turn taking you deeper and to the point where you did not think you could trace your way back out. He lead you to a room that least still had a roof, though even then it was scarcely better off than the rest of things.

“I know it is not much now, but now that I have you at my side again I will be able to finally start rebuilding” he said, “Come, it is late, lay with me and rest.”

You followed him to what was less of a bed and more of a nest. His tone indicated that it was less of a request and more of a command and you were certain you did not want to test his temper. Pillows, soft silks, and pelts formed a surprisingly cozy place to rest as he pulled you against his chest.

You couldn’t help but sniffle. You failed the most important moment of your life, you did not know how you could ever face your family, and from the way this strange being was talking he seemed intent on not letting you leave here.

“There is no need for that. You are safe and home. Soon everything will be back as it is supposed to be” he leaned down to run his rough tongue along your cheek, catching the few tears that rolled down. “This place will be beautiful once more. You will take your place at my side to rule, you will bear our children, and this time I will make sure no one takes you from me.”

You don’t know for how long you laid there, his arm wrapped around you and preventing you from being able to get up and leave. His face was buried against the back of your neck while he laid on his side and clutched your to his chest, you could feel how purred even in his sleep.

Tomorrow you would sort this mess out. Explain to him better that you weren’t his mate, that he was mistaken. That you needed to return home and review your spell again, that surely with a little polishing up you could try again and impress the council. But for now you couldn’t do much of anything. So instead you would sleep, clear your mind, and worry about it all in the morning.

[semisasseater]

YOU THE TYPA GIRL TO REALLY HEAL MY SCAR ─ se-mi

pairing : gf!se-mi x fem!reader Tw : Angst, trauma, PTSD, implied violence, mentions of death, emotional distress, survivor’s guilt, lying/deception, but ends with comfort/fluff. Summary : se-mi was filled with guilt. she felt like she should’ve died, until she remembered why she kept going and came back to the reason she kept going. wc : 2.2k (i think.) authors note : guys don’t attack me but i don’t read bad thinking diary.. so uh yeah but the photos look cute and aesthetically so! also guys it’s mine and my wife gabby 9 year anniversary of being together!! we’re getting married soon trust!! she’s mine yall sorry not sorry heh.. Not proofread

if you enjoyed likes or reblogs would be amazing! feedback is appreciated also requests are open!!

The sound of a metal car door creaking open was deafening in the silence. The cold night air hit se-mi’s skin as she went outside for the first time in weeks. The streetlights flickered overhead, bathing the pavement in a dim glow, but nothing felt real. It was too quiet. Too normal.

Her hands clenched tightly around the credit card she carried after she got untied and took it out her mouth—stuffed full of blood money. Money that had come at the cost of hundreds of lives. Her legs trembled beneath her as she took cautious steps forward, half-expecting another game to start, another command to follow.

But it was over.

She had won.

The images of the games flashed through her mind. The red light, green light massacre. The six-legged race where she had barely escaped elimination. Mingle, where players had to form groups in rooms or be shot on the spot in rooms or not in a room. And Lights Out—the nightmarish free-for-all where trust had meant nothing, where she had to kill or be killed.

Her breath hitched as she remembered the blood on her hands, the screams, the desperation.

She should be dead.

And yet, here she was.

Shakily, se-mi reached for her phone, which had been returned to her at the floor. The screen was cracked, but it still lit up. As soon as it did, her heart clenched.

1,273 unread messages. 342 missed calls.

Every single one from her.

Her girlfriend.

Her Y/N.

Her thumb hovered over the messages, dread pooling in her stomach as she scrolled through them.

y/n: se-mi? Where are you?

y/n: baby please call me, I’m scared.

y/n: It’s been two days. Please don’t do this to me.

y/n: I don’t care what happened, I just need to know you’re okay.

y/n: It’s been WEEKS. Did you leave me? Please tell me you didn’t just disappear on purpose.

y/n: I love you. Please, just come back to me.

The texts grew longer, more desperate, more broken. The last one had been sent just hours ago.

y/n: I don’t think I can sleep tonight. I miss you so much. I just want you to be safe.

A sharp pain twisted in se-mi’s chest. She had been so focused on surviving that she hadn’t thought about what her disappearance had done to Y/N.

She had to fix this.

Without hesitation, she flagged down a taxi and gave the address to their shared apartment.

She was going home.

.

The apartment.

She hesitated before unlocking the door, remembering the guilt, the fear, the heartbreak in those texts.

Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped inside.

Her gaze landed on the couch immediately.

There she was.

Y/N was curled up under a blanket, her face turned toward the door as if she had fallen asleep waiting for se-mi to come home. Even in the dim light, se-mi could see her tear-streaked cheeks, her puffy eyes.

She had cried herself to sleep.

Se-mi’s throat tightened as she knelt beside her, hesitating before reaching out. With a gentle touch, she brushed a strand of hair from Y/N’s face before softly shaking her shoulder.

“Baby… wake up.”

A sleepy murmur escaped Y/N’s lips as she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, groggy with sleep, before focusing on se-mi’s face.

At first, there was confusion.

Then—shock.

And then, tears.

“S-se-mi…?” Y/N’s voice cracked, disbelief evident in her tone.

Se-mi swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a small smile. “Hi baby…”

Before she could say anything else, Y/N threw herself into se-mi’s arms, clutching her tightly. “Oh my god—oh my god—I thought you were—” Her words broke off into sobs as she held onto se-mi as if she’d disappear again. “I thought you were dead. I thought you left me. I thought—”

“I know” se-mi whispered, guilt settling deep into her bones. “I know, love, I’m so sorry…”

She couldn’t tell the truth.

Couldn’t tell Y/N about the blood, the bodies, the screams that still echoed in her head.

So she lied.

“It was… a work trip” she said quickly. “I had to go last minute. They took my phone, all my things. I couldn’t call you, couldn’t text you. I—I should have told you before I left, but I didn’t have time.”

Y/N pulled back, eyes searching se-mi’s face, still wet with tears. “You were gone for three weeks.”

“I know” se-mi said, forcing herself to hold Y/N’s gaze. “And I hate myself for it. But I promise you—I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/N let out a shaky breath before nodding, her hands trembling as they cupped se-mi’s cheeks. “I don’t care where you were. I don’t care about anything else. I just… I’m just so glad you’re back.”

Se-mi’s heart ached as she leaned in, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to Y/N’s lips. The warmth, the love, the relief—it was all there. Y/N kissed her back just as desperately, as if trying to make up for all the lost time.

The next morning, se-mi made good on her promise.

They went to the mall, shopping for everything Y/N wanted. Plushies, makeup, skincare—anything that could bring a smile to her face. Se-mi even surprised her with the Pink Chakra Heart Ring from Pandora, something Y/N had always wanted.

“Oh my god—Se-mi I love you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Y/N squealed, hugging her tightly and peppering kisses all over her face.

Se-mi chuckled, squeezing her close. “Of course baby anything for you.”

But even as they laughed and enjoyed their day together, se-mi couldn’t ignore the gnawing weight in her chest.

The nightmares didn’t stop.

The screams still echoed in her head.

But every time she jolted awake, sweating, shaking, Y/N was there—holding her, whispering soft reassurances, grounding her back to reality.

“I’m here baby you’re safe.”

And for the first time since she left that place, se-mi believed it.

She had survived.

And that’s because, she had something worth living for.

@semisasseater

[urmum-lovesme]

Angel Baby - Rafe Cameron x Kook!reader P14

pairing: Best Friend!Rafe Cameron x Kook!Best-Friend!reader

summary: Rafe and Reader have known each other since kindergarten, always side by side, the king and princess of Figure 8. So why now does he start feeling different towards her, when all she's ever been is his best friend?

a/n: Soooooo.. this took me agessss and it's probably cause I just don't know how to write happy Y/n BAHAHAHA . Anyways, thanks for bearing with me ya'll but Rafe and Y/n will soon (hopefully) get a change for some peace cause god knows they deserve it. This chpt lowkey made me really emotional when I wrote it cause they just deserve each other so bad. (p.s: see if you can spot the Isle of Dogs reference... (it literally isn’t even but whatever I’ll just stfu)

warnings: mentions of trauma/ptsd, mentions of s/a, court proceedings, Cooper (he deserves a TW), mentions of first period, absent parents, passed mother, swimming in the night (with very little clothes), admittance to not being okay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The steady stream of light filtered in through Y/n’s bedroom window, the steady rhythm of a heartbeat beneath her ear pulls her out from her sleepy haze, the weight of someone's arm draped across her causes her eyes to shoot open. Her breath catches, a faint tremor in her chest as the panic rises- uninvited.

Who is that…

Her body tenses slightly. Suddenly hyper aware of every muscle wanting to pull away, to escape the closeness, to shut it out before it becomes too much. The shadows of memories she’d rather not revisit tug at her mind, but then- the familiar scent, the mix of cologne and something undeniably comforting, presses closer to her. Fingers, even in sleep, curl against her skin. Not possessive, protective. 

Rafe

Her heart slows, the frantic pace softening just a little. The panic doesn’t disappear entirely, but it fades, ever so slightly. She exhales shakily, letting her body relax a fraction, just for a moment, allowing herself to sink into the rare comfort of it. But even as her body relaxes, something stirs within her- his touch, his nearness, feels like both refuge and torture all at once. The intensity of it is too much and she’s not sure what she’s supposed to do with it, what she wants to do with it. She feels his breath shift, a faint murmur escaping his lips. His arm tightens instinctively around her, pulling her closer, and for a brief moment, she allows herself to linger in the warmth of it. Y/n looks down to his chest, rising and falling softly along with his breaths.

Just go back to sleep

But as her eyes closed she couldn't stop the image reappearing before her eyes, the dark, terrifying memory of the boy's frame leering over hers and- her eyes shot open.

Get off of me

She swallows harshly as she slowly begins to slip away, careful not to disturb him, not wanting to break the silence that envelops them. Her chest tightens as she slides out from under his arm, her back pressing against the headboard as she sits up on the bed, the sheets beneath her cool. The weight of his closeness still lingering in her bones, but the space between them, even if only temporary, feels like a breath she desperately needed.

Rafe stirs slightly, mumbling something incomprehensible in his sleep, but it’s enough to stop her in her tracks. For just a second, she sits still, caught between wanting to stay and wanting to run, unsure if he even notices her absence yet. Before she can completely slip away, she hears him shift in the bed, his body moving, his face pressed into the pillow as he groggily turns towards her. His voice, still thick with sleep, breaks the silence.

“You okay?”

The question catches her off guard. She wasn’t expecting him to notice, wasn’t expecting him to stir. She stops mid-motion, her breath catching in her throat, unsure if she should answer or if she even knows the answer herself. She remains still, caught in the delicate balance of wanting to stay and the overwhelming urge to run.

Why have you moved away…?

She glances at him, his face still soft with sleep, his features relaxed, hair tousled, unaware of the pull between them, but that question- the softness in his voice- makes her chest tighten. She quickly looks away, her fingers twisting the sheets in her lap, the silence stretching. She nods, almost too quickly. 

“Yeah... I’m fine.”

Her voice is soft, fragile even, and she knows the words don’t carry the weight of what she’s truly feeling. Her gaze darts to the window, anywhere but at him, as if avoiding the connection that still lingers in the space between them. The silence between them hangs thick, but it’s a different kind of weight now- not uncomfortable, just heavy with unspoken thoughts. Y/n sits stiffly on the bed, her fingers twisting the fabric of the sheets, her gaze glued to her lap and the way the material crumples under her fingers. She doesn’t look at him, doesn’t even know what to say. The panic from earlier is still there, lingering at the edges of her mind, but she’s trying to breathe through it.

Rafe, still half-lying in bed, watches her closely, his brow furrowing slightly as he senses the change in her. After a beat, he sighs and shifts his position, leaning back slightly with a small smile.

“So…” 

Say something man

He says, his voice light, a small chuckle following the words, desperately trying to ease the tension. Y/n finally glances up at him, but only briefly, before quickly looking away again. His playful tone feels like a lifeline, something to pull her out of her head.

“I’m actually plotting a dramatic exit right now” 

She teases, but there’s a hint of something softer beneath her words. Rafe raises his eyebrows, the smile on his lips growing wider. 

“Well you’ve got the ‘don’t talk to me’ energy right now if I’m being honest.”

She can’t help it- a small laugh escapes her, and the tension in her chest eases just a little. He might be making fun of her, but it’s a light, and she can’t help but return.

“No, I don’t”

She says, the words sarcastic, though there’s a trace of something deeper in her voice that she doesn’t want to admit.

Rafe shifts, leaning back against the headboard now, his arms resting loosely at his sides as he watches her. There’s something unreadable in his expression—not judging, not pressing, just waiting.

Yn exhales, staring at her hands for a moment before finally speaking up.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she murmurs, the words quiet, hesitant. “I don’t know why I did that.”

Rafe shakes his head almost immediately, about to respond, but she keeps going, voice faltering slightly.

“I’m not a violent person, I—I don’t know why I did that,” 

I know you’re not

She says, the weight of it sitting heavy in her chest. It’s not just regret; it’s shame, the kind that knots up inside her and refuses to let go. All she could think of was the image of the plates, smashing harshly against the ground, the glasses cracking against the walls.

Does he think I’m some psycho bitch…?

Rafe’s expression shifts as he notices the distant look on the girls face, something softer settling in his eyes. He leans forward slightly, lips parting as he starts to speak, but before he can, the sharp vibration of her phone cuts through the air. They both glance over at the bedside table. Y/n swallows, looking at the screen.

Hale.

She feels Rafe’s eyes on her as she reaches for it, but she doesn’t look at him. Instead, she hesitates only a second before pressing the answer button, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hello?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car’s low hum was a fragile constant sound against the storm inside her mind. Y/N leaned her head against the cool glass of the window, watching the street lights blur into streaks of gold. Her parents sat silently in the front seats, their subdued conversation earlier having faded into the quiet tension of the drive. Her chest tightened as she thought of the courtroom, the way Cooper’s words had struck her like a whip.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Miss Y/L/N,” his lawyer had said, rising slowly to his feet as if he had all the time in the world, “my client would like to make a statement.”  

Hale had objected immediately, but the judge allowed it. Y/N had frozen in her seat, her pulse hammering as Cooper stood, his hands neatly folded in front of him, as if he wasn’t the villain in the room.  

“I just want to say…” His voice had been cool, almost detached, yet there was a cruel glint in his eyes as he looked straight at her.

 “I don’t hold anything against her. I know she’s struggling—probably got confused. I mean, let’s be real, she’s not the first girl to regret a bad decision she’s made the morning after.”  

Y/N had felt the air drain from the room. Her body had gone rigid, her nails digging into her palms as a murmur rippled through the courtroom.  

“Objection!” Hale had shot to her feet, her voice sharp as a blade, “Your Honour, this is blatant character assassination and irrelevant to the case!”  

The judge’s gavel had struck down, silencing the room, but the damage was done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cooper’s words had left their mark, and even now, hours later, they replayed in her head like a broken record. The car slowed, pulling into her driveway. Y/N blinked, pulled from the memory as her father turned to her from the driver's seat.  

“We need to head back and deal with the legal papers,” her mum said gently, her eyes soft with concern. “You’ll be okay, right?”  

Y/N nodded quickly, though her heart felt heavier than ever. “Yeah. I’m fine.”  

Her father gave her hand a squeeze before she climbed out of the car, the night air biting against her skin. She stood at the foot of the driveway, watching as the taillights disappeared down the street, leaving her in silence. The house loomed before her, a familiar refuge now shadowed by the weight of everything she carried. She unlocked the door and stepped inside, flicking on the light. It wasn’t until she leaned back against the door, exhaling deeply, that she realised how tightly she’d been holding herself together.  

Yn stood in the kitchen, the soft chill of the floor seeping through the fluffy socks she’d slipped on her feet. The evening had fallen quiet, save for the gentle hum of the fridge and the sound of water heating for her cup of tea. It had been a long day- too long, really- and now, in the soft glow of the kitchen light, she finally allowed herself a moment to breathe.

Raspberry or chamomile?

The heat of the mug in her hands would be a welcome comfort as she prepared to text the guys, filling them in on what had happened with the case. They needed to know, of course- especially Rafe- but it could wait just a few minutes. She dropped the tea bag into her cup and watched it sink, the scent of the tea beginning to rise.

Then, the sudden sound of the doorbell cut through the stillness of the house. Yn's eyes snapped up, startled. She looked at the clock on the wall, 21:35 PM. 

Who could be coming over now?

Her heart skipped, the peaceful stillness suddenly shattered by the sound of the doorbell echoing through the quiet house again. She glanced over at the front door, feeling a moment of hesitation. There weren’t many people who came to visit her after dark, especially in the recent months. Slowly, she made her way towards the front door, her socks sliding gently over the floor. As she reached for the handle, her mind raced with possibilities.

Yn opened the door, still in a bit of a daze, and froze in place when she saw him. There, standing on her doorstep, was Rafe. His chest was rising and falling slightly, as if he’d been rushing, and there was a breathlessness to his words as he spoke rapidly.

What the-

“I’m so sorry, my community service ran over, and I tried to get out earlier so I could be there when you came out, but they wouldn’t let me go- and I know I missed it and—”

She just stared at him, completely speechless, and his rambling faltered, the words tripping over each other as he tried to apologise, to make sense of what had happened. He stopped himself, his eyes searching hers as his hand tightened around the hoodie he was holding. He let out a slow breath, a sense of dread creeping into his expression.

 “How did it go...?”

For a long moment, she said nothing, just looking at him, and a heavy silence stretched between them. Rafe’s gaze darkened, his pulse quickening with worry. He let out a sigh, eyes flicking down to the floor as he wiped a hand over his face in frustration. 

Shit she lost 

“Angel, I’m so—”

And then he stopped mid-sentence as he noticed how the girl’s lips curled into a wide smile, her eyes lighting up with relief, and suddenly, everything clicked. Rafe stared at her, his expression shifting from panic to confusion. 

“Y/N...?”

“I won the case” 

She said simply, her voice a soft but undeniable true relief and pride laced in every syllable.

Holy Shit

His face broke into a grin so wide, it seemed to light up the whole doorway. Without thinking, he surged forward, pulling her into a hug suddenly, she gasped in surprise as her feet lifted slightly off the ground, spinning in a quick, joyful turn, the sheer thrill of the moment buzzing between them.  He set her back down gently, arms still wrapped around her waist, his body tight with excitement and relief. Y/n placed her hands on his chest, steadying herself as she looked up at him, feeling the heat of his chest against her fingertips. He asked, his voice thick with disbelief, a laugh on the edge of his words.

“Really?”

“Yes”

She nodded, her voice brimming with relief, eyes glossed over a little with unexplainable happiness, a weight lifting from her shoulders now that the truth was out. 

“I did.”

Rafe’s arms tightened around her, pulling her closer, as if to make sure this was real. His face buried in her hair, and his voice cracked slightly as he murmured, 

“I’m so proud of you angel” 

The words were full of raw emotion, Y/n just held him tighter, her heart racing, her breath mingling with his. They stayed locked in the embrace for a while, neither of them rushing to pull away. The air between them was thick with the unspoken understanding that this moment, this victory, was bigger than just a court case. It was the culmination of everything that had led them here- everything they’d gone through, together.

When Rafe finally pulled back, he still held her by the waist, his breath was steadying, but there was something in his eyes- an unsaid emotion.

“C’mon,” he murmured, nodding towards the living room. “Let’s get inside, yeah?”

Y/n nodded, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and relief wash over her as they walked inside, side by side. The boy kicked off his shoes by the door, following her as they moved towards the couch; the warm, soft cushions were a welcome comfort after the intensity of the evening. Rafe sat down first, leaning back, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Y/n sat next to him, curling her feet beneath her, resting her cup of tea on the table in front of them Rafe watched Yn quietly for a moment, his brows furrowed with concern.

 “So, how was it? How did it go?”

Y/n let out a soft, exasperated huff, shifting slightly on the couch. “It was... pretty bad, actually,” she said, her tone a little more solemn than she meant. 

“They gave the verdict, and—” She paused, feeling the weight of it all again as she tried to collect her thoughts, “They said the original ruling was biased. And they... they overturned it. Hale was really strict with them this time. The whole thing just... it didn’t sit right with them. . . or something like that.”

Rafe nodded along, listening intently, his expression unreadable for a moment. “So they- what, they gave you the win, then?”

Y/n nodded, looking down at her tea, a small sigh escaping her lips as she took a sip. She kept her voice steady, though there was a quiet relief in her tone now. “Yeah, they did. But the process... it was so long.” She took another sip of tea, the warmth of it grounding her, and as she held the cup in her lap, she looked over at Rafe. 

My poor girl

“You want some? It’s raspberry,” 

She offered, her voice a little softer now. Rafe gave a small, appreciative smile as he took the cup from her, cradling it in his hands and taking a sip. 

“Hm, that’s really good,” 

He said, his gaze flickering back to her. “Thanks.”

Rafe took another sip of the tea, Y/n, still sitting with her legs curled underneath her, glanced over at him, her expression softening slightly as she studied him. “You know,” she said slowly, her voice a little distant as though nostalgic, 

“. . .it was actually your mom who got me into drinking tea.”

Oh

Rafe paused, the cup halfway to his lips, and looked at her with a surprised expression. “My mom?” he asked, a playful grin creeping onto his face. 

“I had no idea. How so?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a cold evening, the chill creeping into the house and making everything feel a little quieter. Y/n was ten, a little older, but still not quite comfortable without her parents around. They were away on a business trip, as usual, and though she knew she was safe in Tannyhill with Rafe and the other two boys, she missed the familiar warmth of her own home.

The day had been strange. She’d started her first period the day before and was feeling the discomfort that came with it. Her stomach was cramping slightly, and the homesickness weighed on her even more. Rafe, Topper, and Kelce had been upstairs, making noise, but Y/n couldn’t bring herself to join them. She felt a little off, and she couldn’t focus on their chatter. The warmth of the house was comforting, but not quite enough to shake the cold feeling she had inside. So, she made her way downstairs, her socks sliding slightly against the cold wooden floors. The kitchen was seemed empty when she walked in, and the soft glow of the light above the counter filled the room with a welcoming, warm light. But upon closer inspection, Rafe’s mom was standing by the stove, humming softly to herself as she prepared a pot of tea. She looked over when she heard Y/n’s footsteps, her gaze softening as she took in the sight of her. Y/n’s face was flushed from the cold, her eyes a little sad, and her posture slightly hunched in discomfort.

“Hey, sweetheart,” June said gently, her voice always soothing. “You don’t look so good, feeling alright?” 

he stepped forward, setting the kettle aside as she noticed the way Y/n held herself. The young girl hesitated for a moment, not used to being open about how she was feeling, but then shook her head a little.

“I’m not feeling too good” Y/n mumbled, looking down at her socks. “And I’m... just missing my parents”

June’s expression softened further, her eyes full of understanding. “I know that feeling,” she said, her tone warm and kind. “Let me make you something to help you feel better.” She reached for the jar of raspberry leaf tea, her movements careful and comforting.

“Raspberry tea can do wonders when you're feeling a little under the weather. Would you like to try some?”

Y/n nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude rush over her as June filled another cup with the hot, soothing liquid. She handed it over with a soft smile, and the two of them sat at the kitchen table together, the quiet hum of the house filling the space around them. June glanced over at her occasionally, offering small words of comfort, her words weren’t just comforting- it was the kind of motherly advice that felt like it would stick with you forever. Although it wasn’t her own mom-  her presence was more than enough, the warmth of the tea and her calm demeanor making Y/n feel a little more at home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n smiled as she came back to the present, her gaze meeting Rafe’s. She couldn’t help but smile softly at the memory. 

“She always knew how to make people feel special, didn’t she?”

She said quietly. Rafe looked at her, clearly surprised by the story he didn't even know happened, and leaned back against the sofa, a warm smile tugging at his lips.

 “She did,” 

He replied softly, his voice carrying a quiet reverence for his mother. Rafe’s expression faltered for a moment, his gaze turning soft, almost distant, as the memory of his mother settled in. He looked down at the tea cup in his hands, as if searching for something to say.  Y/n noticed the subtle shift in his expression. She didn’t push him to speak more, but her voice softened when she said,

 “I- I see her in you every day, you know.” 

Rafe’s head lifted at her words, his expression unreadable for a moment. The room seemed to hold its breath as Y/n watched him carefully, sensing the weight of the topic. He gave a small nod before speaking, his voice quieter than before.

 “I think she’d be happy… we- well, that we’re still together, you know?”

Y/n’s gaze softened as she met his eyes, a gentle understanding between them. “I think so too,” she said, her voice full of quiet reassurance. A small smile tugged at Rafe’s lips as he leaned back, his shoulders relaxing a little.

“When we used to argue... when we were younger... and you’d go home ‘cause you’d had enough of me,” 

He said with a slight chuckle. Y/n laughed softly at the memory, but Rafe continued, his tone playful now. 

“She used to tell me I better apologise to you, because ‘ You’ll never find anyone else like Y/n’. ” 

Guess you were right mom

He did a mock air-quote around the end of the sentence with a smirk. Y/n’s eyebrows lifted, surprise and amusement in her expression. “Did she really?”

Rafe nodded, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Yeah, yeah she did.”

She loved you like a daughter she just never told you

For a moment, they both just laughed together, the tension between them fading into the warmth of shared memories.  Y/n smiled, the sound of their laughter lingering in the air. 

“I’m glad she did,” she said, her voice sincere, her gaze meeting his with soft affection.

Rafe’s smile softened, looking at her with gratitude. “So am I.”

Y/n settled back against the arm of the sofa, her legs curled beneath her as she looked at him. Her free hand rested on the back of the couch, and her head gently tilted to rest on her palm. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the quiet between them comfortable but expectant. Rafe turned his head slightly, leaning back just a bit so he could meet her eyes, a quiet curiosity in his gaze. Y/n hesitated for just a moment, her thumb brushing the edge of her cup. The air between them shifted slightly, 

“I need to tell you something” 

Rafe’s brow furrowed again as he looked at her, the cup still in his hand. “Is it bad?” His voice was laced with concern, but there was a quiet tension in the way he spoke. Y/n shook her head gently, offering him a small smile.

 “No, it’s actually... good news. You won’t have to do community service anymore, and the anger management class? It’s all been revoked.”

Rafe froze for a moment, staring at her with wide eyes, as if trying to process what she was saying. “What? How?” His voice cracked slightly, the disbelief clear in his tone. 

Y/n let out a soft hum, her smile growing as she met his eyes. “It’s because the verdict was wrong. The court realised there was bias in the ruling. So they basically... reversed it. You don’t have to go through with it anymore cause it’s unjust for you to serve a punishment which wasn’t rightfully decided.”

For a long moment, Rafe simply stared at her, processing the news, before a slow grin began to spread across his face. His eyes softened, and he let out a breath, a rush of relief flooding through him. 

“Are you serious?” 

If she’s lying I swear

He asked, his voice still filled with disbelief. “I don’t... I don’t have to do any of that? Seriously?”

Y/n nodded, the relief and joy in her voice palpable now. “It’s all gone, you’re basically on a clean slate”

Rafe blinked, as though trying to steady himself. He was still a little surprised, the news sinking in. “Holy shit,” he muttered, almost to himself. 

“I didn’t think...I thought I’d be stuck with that shit for ages.”

Y/n smiled, watching him carefully as she adjusted her position on the couch, her legs still tucked under her. “Well you don’t have to worry about it anymore,” she said, her voice a little softer now.

You shouldn’t have had to worry about it in the first place…  

Rafe exhaled, leaning back against the couch hand covering his face momentarily, still absorbing the news. Then, slowly, the corners of his mouth lifted into a smirk.

“So what you’re saying is…” he stretched out his legs, letting out a dramatic sigh,

“I’m finally off the leash?”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Yes. Mr Rafe. Cameron, you’re off the leash.”

He grinned. “No more early mornings cleaning up beach trash? No more sitting in a circle with a bunch of guys talking about my feelings?”

“Nope.”

Thank fuck

Rafe let out a deep breath, shaking his head. “Damn. Kinda makes me wanna do somethin to celebrate.”

Y/n shot him a look over the rim of her cup. “Right. Because you need another reason to get into trouble.”

He turned to her with a slow, lazy smirk. “You wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t at least a little trouble.”

She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “I think I’d survive.”

Rafe scoffed, nudging her knee with his. “Lies.”

Fair enough

Y/n set her tea down, giving him a teasingly serious look. “So what now? You gonna go wild? Rob a gas station? Steal a yacht?”

Rafe pretended to think about it, tapping a finger against his chin. “Mm… tempting. But nah.” He looked at her, eyes twinkling. “Apparently, I drink raspberry tea now.” He picked up her cup like it was proof, taking a sip and placing it down.

“Guess I’m reformed.”

The girl laughed, shaking her head. “Wow. Incredible character development.”

He grinned. “Right? Maybe I should send the court a thank-you note.”

He’s so stupid

She rolled her eyes but smiled as she shifted her legs beneath her, settling in more comfortably. The teasing between them was easy, familiar. But underneath it, there was something softer, something real. As Rafe glanced at her again, his smirk faded just slightly—just enough for Y/n to catch a glimpse of the warmth behind it. Rafe stretched his arms over his head, letting out a satisfied sigh.

“You know what we should do?”

Y/n raised a brow, already skeptical. “Oh boy. Here we go.”

He grinned, eyes glinting with mischief. “Go to the beach and celebrate properly.”

What on earth-

She huffed a laugh. “What, by standing around in the dark? So festive.”

He stretched his arms over his head before standing up, already acting like it was decided. “C’mon, it’s not even that late.”

Y/n eyed him, skeptical but intrigued. “Rafe, it’s basically nighttime.”

“And?” he shot back, tilting his head at her.

It’s not. . . safe

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the sleeve of her sweater. She had barely been out since everything happened. It wasn’t that she was afraid exactly, but… she just hadn’t felt like it. The idea of stepping outside, of being in the open again- it made her hesitate, just for a second.

And Rafe noticed.

His teasing expression softened just a little as he looked at her. He could see it now—the way she hesitated, the way her lips pressed together like she was already convincing herself to say no.

“You’ll be fine,” he said quietly. “I’ll be there with you the whole time.”

Y/n looked at him, expression unreadable. For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Rafe just held her gaze, steady and sure, no teasing this time.

Please say yes

Just say yes

Then, finally, she rolled her eyes, letting out a dramatic groan as she pushed herself off the couch. “Fine.” She sighed, shaking her head.

“Let’s go.”

Rafe grinned, triumphant. “Knew you couldn’t resist.”

She smacked his arm as she walked past him, but he just laughed, following her out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They drive in quiet comfort, the roads mostly empty at this time of night. Rafe’s Range Rover rumbles beneath them, the salty night air slipping through the open windows. Y/n watches the familiar streets pass by, the neon lights of late-night diners and gas stations glowing in the dark, until they fade into the open road leading to the shore.

When they finally pull up, the beach is silent—just the rhythmic crash of waves and the distant hum of wind against the dunes. The moon hangs low, its silver light casting a soft glow over the sand. Rafe kills the engine, and for a second, neither of them move, Y/n glances over at him.

“Now what?”

“Now we get out.”

Jesus

He smiles, already pushing open his door. She huffs but follows, stepping onto the cool sand. The breeze is stronger out here, but the night is relatively warm, she tugs at her sleeves as she crosses her arms over herself, a habit she’d seemed to pick up on in the recent months. Rafe, on the other hand, seems completely at ease, stretching as he tilts his head back to look at the sky.

“Forgot how good it feels to be out at night.”

Y/n watches him for a second, noticing the boys t-shirt ride up slightly exposing the sliver of skin above his belt, she turns toward the ocean, the vast darkness stretching endlessly in front of them. The water glistens under the moon, waves rolling in and out, steady and hypnotic. Rafe nudges her with his elbow.

“So? Worth getting off the couch for?”

Definitely

She exhales, pretending to think about it. “Mmm… maybe.”

He snorts. “You’re so annoying.”

No you’re not

Y/n just smirks, nudging him back. And for the first time in a while, she feels it- that quiet, weightless feeling that comes with being somewhere free.

Somewhere with him

The waves crash gently against the shore, a steady rhythm in the quiet of the night. Y/n stands just a little away from the water, arms now wrapped loosely around herself as she gazes out at the endless dark horizon. The moonlight glows against the ocean’s surface, casting shimmering ripples that stretch far beyond where she can see. She’s lost in thought, the cool air pressing against her skin, grounding her.

Rafe is beside her, hands tucked into the pockets of his cargos, watching her more than he watches the water. He notices the way she hesitates, the way she looks like she wants to take a step forward but holds herself back. He realises, not for the first time, how much has changed.

How much she’s changed.

"You okay?"

His voice is steady, but softer than usual, like he already knows the answer. Y/n blinks, as if she forgot he was there for a second, then lets out a small breath. "Yeah," she says, though it’s not entirely convincing,

"Just... taking it in."

Rafe follows her gaze out to the water, the moonlight cutting silver through the waves. "Been a while since you’ve been out like this, hmm?"

She doesn't answer right away, just shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah,” she admits eventually, her voice quieter this time.

"I don’t know why it feels... different now."

Rafe does. He knows exactly why. But he doesn’t push her to say it. Instead, he bumps his shoulder lightly against hers, a casual touch, but one meant to remind her of his presence.

"You’ll be fine," he says simply, "I’m here."

Y/n’s fingers brush lightly against Rafe’s hand, just barely there, but enough to make his stomach tighten in that familiar way he’s been trying to ignore. The smallest touch, yet it sends something warm curling through his chest. He glances down at her, a slow smile tugging at his lips before he even realises it.  

"You know what we should do?"

He says, breaking the quiet, his voice laced with something playful. Y/n turns her head slightly, eyeing him with suspicion.

"What?"

"Go in."

You’re crazy

He nods toward the water, his grin lazy and full of ease. Y/n lets out a short laugh, shaking her head.

"Yeah- no."

"Why not?" He nudges her with his elbow again. "Come on, it’s just water."

She gives him a flat look. "It’s cold, it’s dark, and we didn’t bring towels genius."

Rafe huffs, tilting his head at her. "You scared?"

Y/n scoffs, folding her arms raising her brow, "Of the ocean? No."

"Then prove it." His smile is all challenge now. "I’ll do it if you do it."

She exhales sharply, staring out at the waves, contemplating. He watches her carefully, seeing the way she bites the inside of her cheek, her weight shifting slightly from foot to foot. And then, finally-

What’s the worse that could happen…?

The girl toed off her shoes, the sand cool beneath her feet.

“So? Who’s chickening out first?”  

Atta girl

Rafe smirked as he tugged off his hoodie. “Not me.”  

She eyed him skeptically. “Uh-huh. We’ll see about that.”  

With that, she turned, pulling her sweater over her head, leaving herself in just her bra and shorts. The whole time, she kept her chin lifted, her expression daring him to hesitate. Rafe’s eyes flickered over her body for a fraction of a second before he yanked off his shirt in one smooth motion.

“Last one in has to buy breakfast,”

He announced, shoving his jeans down and Y/n laughed, kicking off her shorts.

“You are gonna buy me breakfast.”  

And before he could get another word in, she turned and bolted straight for the water.  

Oh, shit-

Rafe took off after her, the sand shifting under his feet. Y/n shrieked as the first wave hit her legs, the cold shocking her system, but she didn’t slow down. Rafe caught up just as she dove under, disappearing beneath the surface. He followed without hesitation, the icy water stealing the breath from his lungs. When they both resurfaced, laughing and breathless, Y/n wiped the salty water from her face.

“Cold as hell,” she gasped.  

Rafe ran a hand through his soaked hair, grinning. “Told you it was a good idea.”  

She snorted. “You’re actually insane.”  

He swam a little closer, his smirk softening into something genuine. “Yeah… but you followed me angel.”  

Shut up

Under the moonlight, with the waves rocking them gently, the moment stretched- an unspoken tension lingering between them. As soon as they're both waist-deep in the water, the mischief began. Rafe sends a small splash her way, and before Y/n can retaliate, he’s already diving under the water. When he resurfaces behind her, she lets out a laugh, half-annoyed, half-delighted. She taunts, flicking water at his face.  

"Oh, you think you're funny?"

"I know I’m funny”

He grins, dodging her next attack and sending a wave right back. The splashing war escalates, both of them laughing breathlessly as the moonlight shimmers on the water. Y/n tries to get the upper hand, lunging at him to push him under, but he’s quicker- effortlessly grabbing her wrists and spinning her around. She gasps as her back presses lightly against his chest, her arms caught in his grip.  

And suddenly, the playfulness slows.  

The sound of the waves becomes the only noise between them. Rafe doesn't let go immediately, his hands still around her wrists, his breath warm against her damp skin. She can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest behind her, the way his fingertips just barely skim her pulse before he finally loosens his hold, his warmth breath by her ear.

Oh

Y/n turns to face him, but they’re closer than she expected. The water laps at their shoulders, their faces only inches apart. His gaze drops to her lips for just a second- just long enough for her to notice, long enough for her breath to catch.  

"You’re quiet all of a sudden," he murmurs, his voice softer now.  

"You are too," she counters, her voice barely above a whisper.  

For a moment, neither of them move.

Just do it

Just do it

The tension hums between them, electric, the weight settling in the space where their laughter used to be. Rafe's fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to reach for her, but—  

A wave crashes into them, knocking Y/n slightly off balance. She lets out a startled yelp, gripping onto Rafe’s arm to steady herself, and just like that, the moment snaps. Rafe chuckles, shaking his head as he runs a hand through his wet hair.

"Guess the ocean wants to join in."  

Fuck you ocean

Y/n hums, rolling her eyes even as her heart still races and her cheeks feel hot. He smirks, tilting his head slightly, Rafe watches her for a second longer before flashing her a teasing grin.

"C’mon, let’s go further out."  

Oh my god

As he swims ahead, Y/n lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding, her pulse still erratic. She swallows, then shakes her head.

Fucking Rafe Cameron

They drift further into the water, their movements slower now, the splashing forgotten. The moon hangs high above them, casting silver ribbons over the waves, the only sound the rhythmic lapping of the sea.

Y/n floats onto her back for a moment, letting the water cradle her, eyes slipping closed, but they shoot open again as she’s engulfed by the taunting darkness. The coolness against her skin, the weightlessness- it’s calming- but it’s not enough to keep the memories at bay. She almost forgets Rafe is there until she feels the gentle tug of fingers skimming over her wrist.

She blinks at him, as he treads water beside her. His expression is unreadable, his fingers barely linger before he pulls away, as if testing a boundary neither of them have put into words.

"D’you always do that?" he asks, tilting his head.

"Do what?"

"Slip away."

His voice is even, but there’s something underneath it she can’t quite place. Y/n lets out a small huff, pushing herself upright again arms moving to keep her afloat.

"I’m literally right here, Rafe."

Why do you always change the subject Y/n

He doesn’t respond right away, just watches her with that unreadable look again.

"You know that’s not what I meant."

I know

The words settle between them, dissolving into the sound of the waves. Y/n swallows, unsure how to answer. A part of her wants to deflect, to throw out some sarcastic remark and push past whatever this is; whatever interrogation he’s suddenly put her under. But the way Rafe is looking at her- steady, patient, like he’s seeing her in a way that makes her stomach twist- makes it harder. For once, she doesn’t have an easy comeback. She clears her throat, breaking eye contact.

"You dragged me out here to psychoanalyse me? Thought we were just having fun."

Rafe exhales a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "We are." He pauses, then smirks. "But for the record, you do tend to change the subject before I can say anything."

What?

Y/n scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Do not."

"Do too."

"Maybe I just don’t want to hear what you have to say."

There’s a flicker of something in Rafe’s eyes at that. "Maybe," he concedes. Then, before she can respond, he suddenly moves- disappearing beneath the water without warning.

Where did he-

Y/n barely has a second to react before she feels hands on her waist, and then- she’s going under.

She lets out a muffled shriek, the salty water rushing around her as Rafe pulls her down with him. The second she reorients herself, she shoves at his chest, kicking back to the surface with a gasp. When she breaks through the water, sputtering, Rafe is already grinning at her, running a hand through his soaked hair like he didn’t just try to drown her.

"You—!" she starts, wiping water from her face. "You are so irritating."

"That’s not very nice"

She glares, but he just keeps smiling, all cocky amusement. And even though she should be mad, even though she should dunk his head back under in retaliation, she can’t help the laugh that escapes her.

They float- shoulders brushing occasionally, water lapping softly at their skin.

It’s peaceful.

Y/n tilts her head back slightly, gazing at the stars, her mind momentarily blank. But the boys voice breaks through the silence.

"I was being genuine, you know"

Rafe says, voice quieter now. She hums in question, not looking at him just yet.

"Hmm?"

"When you drift off," he clarifies. "I notice."

. . .

Y/n finally glances at him, her expression softer now. The playfulness from earlier has melted away, leaving something more raw between them.

"I know you think people don’t notice," Rafe continues, eyes locked on hers. "And maybe they don’t. But I do."

I do

She doesn’t know what to say to that. Because the way he’s looking at her, like he means every word- it’s a little overwhelming. She exhales, eyes flickering away for a moment.

"I don’t mean to," she admits, voice barely above a whisper. "It just… happens. Out of nowhere. One second I’m fine, and the next—" She swallows.

"I just get pulled back."

Rafe doesn’t say anything, doesn’t press. He just listens. Y/n sighs, looking down at the water between them, small ripples passing through the water.

"Sometimes, I wish I could just forget it. That night. Everything that happened. But it doesn’t go away. I’ve tried so hard to just hide it in a corner of my mind but it doesn’t work. No matter how much time passes… it’s still there."

She’s still floating, still weightless, but in that moment, she feels like she’s sinking.

She's moving with more effort now, treading the waves. Rafe shifts slightly, his hand moving beneath the water. For a second, it seems like he’s about to reach for her—but he hesitates. Instead, he lets his fingers just barely brush against hers beneath the surface, his touch light, fleeting.

The water is shallow enough for Rafe to stand comfortably, his shoulders above the surface, while Y/n has to stretch a little to keep afloat. She feels the gentle pull of the tide beneath her feet, her balance wavering for a moment, neck straining slightly to keep her head above the water.

Noticing, Rafe reaches for her, his fingers wrapping around her wrist as he guides her closer. He doesn’t say anything- just pulls her in until her hands naturally find their way to his shoulders.

Y/n exhales softly somewhat in relief, her gaze flickering over his face. The water droplets clinging to his lashes catch the moonlight, and for a second, she just watches them, lost in the small details. Then, barely above a whisper she speaks out.

"I just wish I was normal again."

You are

At that, Rafe’s eyes find hers, searching, steady. He takes in every part of her expression- the flicker of doubt, the weight she’s carrying. He speaks out, quietly yet firmly,

"You are normal."

No I’m not

The space between them feels impossibly small. Y/n’s hands rest lightly on his shoulders, her fingers barely pressing into his skin, and Rafe can feel every shift, every movement. His gaze drops—just for a second. To her lips, slightly parted, soft under the glow of the moonlight, wet with saltwater.

God, I want to kiss you-

But he doesn’t.

Not after what she’s just told him. Not when he knows she’s still healing, still carrying wounds that haven’t fully closed. She needs space and he’s not going to be the one to push her. Instead, he lifts a hand, brushing the small smudge of mascara from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. His touch is gentle, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

"You just need time."

He murmurs, his voice comforting but certain. Y/n’s eyes search his, and for a moment, he wonders if she’ll pull away. But then- a small smile, barely there, find its way to her lips. She gives him a small nod, her hand now fully pressed against his shoulder, grounding herself in the warmth of his skin. Slowly, her other hand trails down his arm, the touch light, deliberate, until her fingers find his under the cool water.

Without hesitation, she intertwines them together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist: @evermorx89 @bellaed1t @user381953 @lovemanheim @loves0phelia @yourcrackleflame @kundaquarius @matthewswifeyy @pillowprincess4him @lilithblackkk @sunny1616 @slut-4-gojo @louxmcl @stelleduarte @p0gue420 @maybanksgirl69 @godharryz @sinnerrsworld @rafe-cameronswife @chillgal135 @moneybaby07 @mrsdrewstarkeyy

[xoxolilixx]

★𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙚★

𝙀𝙠𝙠𝙤 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢!𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

✩𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 - you help Ekko relax a little

✩𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙨 - Smut with plot, fingering, oral(reader receiving)

✩𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - heyyyy😅 ik it's been a while, I kinda disappeared off the face of the earth, MY BADDDDD😁 I figured since I've been gone for a good second, I should come back with a treat, so here you are lovebugs❤️ I hope you guys like it🩷🌺

Sweat trickled down his forehead as he worked. He was hunched over his desk, hands aching and mind clouded as he continued his repairs to his hoverboard. It was late –3 am to be exact– and Ekko’s been sleepless since the battle on the bridge with Jinx. You were worried about him. You knew how stressful this was for him; between failing to save his former best friend and making sure everything stays afloat with the firelights, he was basically drowning in his work and stress. Ekko was a relatively calm person, but whenever you tried to talk to him about everything, he would just shut down and push you away, so you learned to give him space, but tonight you couldn’t take it anymore.

“I’m surprised you haven’t frozen to stone like that,” you spoke softly, not wanting to startle him. His workshop door was cracked open and all the lights except for the one that sat right above his desk were dimmed. “...you should be asleep,” he whispered, not looking up from his work. His voice was weary and tired, you could hear the stress in his voice, it made your heart crack. “So should you, love,” your voice stayed soft, calming. The last thing you wanted was to be another harsh thing in his life right now. “The bed misses you,” you joked softly as you came up behind him, your soft hands landing on his shoulders. They were tense, his whole body was, and the tenseness didn’t falter when you touched him like how it usually did. “I’ll be there soon,” he uttered. “How soon? By the end of the month? Because I haven’t seen you in bed in 3 weeks,” you were sincere with a half joking tone as your hands gently ran down his body as you hugged him from behind, “I miss you baby…just…come on for tonight, get some rest. It’ll be here in the morning- I’ll even come in and help you with it,” you pleaded softly, your lips against his neck as you eyed his work from his shoulder. You didn’t want him to open up before he was ready, you didn’t want to push his limits, and you didn’t want to bitch to him about how closed off he’s been, you just wanted him to get some rest.

He sighed at your words, his hands pausing their movements for just a small moment, “Just-...let me finish this up, okay?” he uttered, his tone slightly softer than before. You huffed as you felt him lean into your arm, planting a small kiss on your upper arm as he started working again. You knew him, he wasn’t going to come to bed any time soon, he would just magically find something else that needed his attention and forget all about getting rest. “You’re helpless, you know that?” you huffed out against the shell of his ear, “your whole workshop is gonna be renovated before you come to bed.” He could hear the slight irritation in your words as you removed your touch from him, it made him tense up more. He knew you were being patient with him, and knowing that he was making it harder for you somehow made him feel worse than the stress did.

“Wait,” he uttered out before you got too close to the door. You immediately turn around, as if it was a reflex, “yes Ekko?” “...c’here,” he uttered, his hands abandoning his work as he looked over his shoulder. You didn’t fight the urge to walk back over to him. Soon, you were standing in between his legs and his hands were on your hips. “I’m sorry baby,” he sighed, his hands giving a loving squeeze to your body. His stress seemed to melt away the more you were around him, and you loved that, but constantly trying to get him to melt was frustrating, so you wanted to milk this as much as you could.

“Prove it,” you huffed, feigning irritation as you crossed your arms. For the first time in a while, he cracked a smile, chuckling as he immediately picked up on your game. “You want me to prove that I’m sorry?” he chuckled, his hands running up your waist, pushing up your (his) shirt as he did so. “Yea,” you huffed, your act almost breaking as he tugged you down on his lap, making you straddle him. “And tell me princess, how do you want me to do that?” he smirked as your hands rested on his shoulders as his hand gently grabbed your chin, running his thumb across your bottom lip. “Surprise me,” you smiled, finally breaking your act. It felt like he was a magnet, slowly pulling you closer, the space in between you closing at a steady pace. “Surprise you, huh? I got you~” he uttered before pressing his lips into yours.

This was the quickest you’ve ever seen Ekko forget about a project. Your lips danced with his as his hands roamed your body, running from your waist to your hip down to your thighs before finally resting on your ass, his hands giving it a soft squeeze. Your hands weren't much different; running from his shoulders down his chest to his abs and then back up to his blonde locs. It didn't take long for all restraint to disappear once his tongue slipped into your mouth, a soft whine escaping your throat as he explored your mouth. You felt him smile into the kiss, making your heart melt. If this was all it took to get him to loosen up, you would’ve been tried this.

You felt him remove one of his hands off your body, reaching behind you to tug his hoverboard off the table and onto the floor, giving him space to grab your hips and lift you up onto the table. You stayed connected in a messy kiss as he gripped your thighs and toyed with the waistband of your night shorts. You finally broke away, strings of saliva connecting you both as you panted softly, trying to catch your breath as you smiled down at him as he tugged at your waistband, a smile on his face as while. “There we go~” you cooed, your soft hands cupping his cheeks, “Finally got you to smile f’me,” you giggled, his smile only growing bigger. “Who wouldn’t for you, baby?” he chuckled as he tugged down your waistband, silently signalling to you to lift your hips, which you happily obliged.

He pressed soft, wet kisses all along your jaw and neck as he tossed your shorts somewhere behind him, pushing your thick thighs apart, revealing the damp spot on your orange, lacy panties, bringing a smirk on his face. “All that for me?” he smirked slyly, gripping you by your thighs and tugging you closer to the edge of the table. “No one else but you,” you giggled. “You must have really missed me,” he chuckled before pressing a kiss into your lips, swallowing the soft moan you let out when the pad of his thumb pushed into your clit through the flimsy fabric. The pretty sounds continued to spill out as he drew tight circles into the little bud.

At some point, he slowly stood up, his lips still locked with yours and his fingers still moving. “Lay back f’me baby,” he muttered against your lips lowly, but you weren't giving much of a choice when he placed a hand on your stomach and gently pushed you back. A shiver went down your spine as he placed soft, wet kisses down your body, making his way between your thighs, sucking hickeys over top of the stretch marks on your inner thighs. You leaned up on your elbows, looking down your body and watching him work on your body, allowing your eyes to lock with his. God damn it, he was fucking gorgeous like this; in between your legs, looking up with hooded but loving eyes, blonde locs falling in his face just a little. A gasped escaped your lips as he kissed your clothed cunt before he tugged the messy fabric to the side. Ekko bit back a groan as he watched strings of your arousal fall from the fabric as your pussy shimmered under the dim lighting. His dick leaked in his pants a little at the sight. “You’re so fucking pretty~” he cooed softly, making your heart melt and your cheeks flush, but before you could even respond, his mouth was on your cunt, coaxing struggled whines and moans from you as the sound of him slurping and licking your core filled the room. Your fingers tangled in his locs, tugging his head deeper between your legs as your head lulled back, your hips grinding against his face as he gripped your thigh with one hand, tugging you impossibly closer to him as he slipped one of his long, thick fingers into your tight hole.

He ate you like a starved man, but honestly the way he’s been locked up in his workshop, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was one. He now had two fingers pumping in and out of you, curling perfectly against that one gummy spot inside of you as he slurped and sucked at your clit, the juices from your previous orgasm pooling in the palm of his hand and on his desk under you.

He reluctantly detached from your cunt after your third orgasm leaving you a panting and shaking mess in front of him as he smirked down at you. “How’s that for proof?” he smirked, earning a breathless giggle from you as he licked your juices off his now dripping hand. “Ya know, I came in here to try and help you un-stress~” you giggled. “Hm, then you did a amazing fucking job baby,” he chuckled lowly, leaning down to lock lips with you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips.

“Lets go to bed~” he uttered, scooping you off his table, leaving a mess for him to clean up later.

[neyafromfrance95]

okay, here is the thing:

making the details of trop!galadriel's story extrimely "lore-accurate" won't work at this point.

in the lore, galadriel is a ruler of eregion before celebrimbor turns on her and then she goes to lothlorien and takes up the rule there, temporarily. then she goes to rivendell to find her husband and they move to belfalas so that she can gather information on sauron and send it to elrond. she disappears during and sometime after the war of the last alliance but then reunites with her husband to attend her daughter's wedding. then she travels a lot, investigating, and only after all that does she settle in lothlorien as the realm's permanent ruler (and fully devotes herself to powering up her realm and opposing sauron even more).

it wouldn't make sense for her to already be settled as the lady of lothlorien anytime soon in the show. the timelines are changed too drastically and trying to align them now would create more problems that would mess up the storytelling itself.

(like, rather than going to temporarily rule lothlorien, it would make sense for trop!galadriel to stay with elrond and prepare for sauron's attack on lindon. rather than going to belfalas, it would make sense for her to go back to numenor. it would work better if she established lothlorien after the sinking of numenor. it would be a neater storytelling.)

her trop story has to be good as its own thing, and i highly doubt that it can be if it sticks to the lore too faithfully. but it should not be an issue, since galadriel's lore has always been convoluted and contradictory, and trop is simply offering its own variation of her mythology.

what's important is that they capture the essence of galadriel's character and role. and no, it's not being the lady of the light.

when it comes to her character, she is defined by her power, knowledge and leadership. she is said to be so powerful that even elrond doesn't fully understand her powers, she knows all about the middle-earth bc of her travels and she always leads.

we know that she rules and is being a commander and keeps an eye on sauron. we know that she is dedicated like no one else to opposing him. we know that she desires power more than anything. in a way, even her resisting the one ring has to do with her refusing to let the ring have power over her.

trop has to tell a story of her fighting the darkness in the middle-earth and within herself, striving towards fulfilling her potential as a powerful being, bc that is the essence of her character. and capturing this essence is more important than adhering to the chronology, imo.

[thechaoticcheese]

Ghoap Oneshot - What Makes Me So Special?

The room was thick and heavy, the smell of sex fresh, but dwindling for the two softly panting men as they laid on a bed that was only meant for one.

Ghost laid on the bottom, it only being logical due to his larger size while Soap laid on top. Soap's hands curled gently against the large pecs of Ghost as the two somewhat silently enjoyed each other's company. Though uneasiness suddenly jerked at Soap's heart.

Why him? What made him so special that not only could he see the side of Ghost that no one saw? Why was he allowed to see Simon?

Soap looked up at the blond who was staring directly at him, usually ever so careful to hide his thoughts behind uncaring eyes, but the emotions the Scot felt seemed to be reflected in the dark browns of Ghost’s eyes.

“What makes me so special?” Soap didn't register the voice at first, it felt so frightened and scared to ask a simple yet heart wrenching question. And despite seeing Ghost’s scarred and chapped lips move, it took Soap a moment to process the question that he himself was asking, just the other way around.

“Well…” Soap started off, thinking about why he found Ghost special to him, he did his best to choose his words carefully, speaking a bit slowly, “Yer humor is funny but dog shite, save my arse more times than I can count-”

“So this is payment for savin’ your life?” Ghost's voice dipped into a sadder range of emotion that hit Soap like a truck.

“No! No!.. No.” The Scot was quick to try to fix the Brit’s way of thinking. “It's… It's the way you save me. You don’ care ‘ow many people get hurt, as long as I’m alive, ya go through bloody hell and back to make sure I'm here an’ alive. You care for me more than anyone ever has.” Soap tried to enunciate each word without his accent, despite his tone going soft and almost counteracting his wishes for his own speech. “Yer an awesome man, always wantin’ to listen to me even when yer about to explode at rookies, going to me for stuff when ye don't go ta odders. You're special to me cause I think I'm special to you too. I just wanna show you I appreciate it and show it back.”

Soap didn't even realize that he was tearing up as he looked at Ghost in his eyes.

“I love you Simon Riley, don' you ever forget that.” He finally finished before he felt a thumb wipe away the warm salty liquid that was leaving his eyes.

Ghost's face had turned from a look that hinted at uncertainty to the softest look that Soap had ever seen from his Lieutenant. That's all that Soap needed to settle his own question.

Why did Ghost find Soap so special? Who cares, he does and he goes to Soap for things, and that's more he could ever hope for. Soap knows that he's a safe place for Ghost, a safe place for Simon. Who bloody cares why?

Soap leaned up and gently placed a kiss on Simon’s lips, closing his eyes.

“I love you too Johnny.” Simon whispered softly back as Soap slightly pulled away after feeling the bigger man kiss him back.

“You're right. You are special to me.” He continued, Sosp was taken aback, not expecting him to say anything else. “You're the light that refused to extinguish despite how distant I made myself. You always had that headstrong attitude that never faltered even when facing dozens of men with nothin’ to your name. You're a fighter, and you fight for what you want. You fought for me too, not just in battles, but in our relationship.” Simon then planted a soft kiss on Johnny's forehead, the shocked expression slightly disappeared as the Scot's lips tugged at a smile.

“Yer a bloody mind reader.” He grumbled before Simon let out a soft, growly chuckle.

“I do my best.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A request from @bone-trash and based on this post(specifically the prompt: What makes me so special?)! If you'd like to request something from that list, or anything at all, feel free to send it to my mail(ask)box! I'll get to it as soon as I can!

[daschantal05]

There was an attack.

I hid in my dark room, cowering before the door which refused to close at my command. Red lights flashed and bathed my face in panic, sirens blared throughout the bunker.

Something had broken in, had made its way into our home, and there was nothing we could do to stop it. It tore through us - our ranks, our people - like nothing; screams and wretched wails echoed in the halls, each instance as swiftly snuffed out as they had emerged.

Pain made verbal, the kind that rips out wiring and mechanisms of steel and brass, the kind that churns the senses upside down, the kind that makes one want to vomit just by the wet and squelching cocophany it produces. A sound of being forcefully turned inside out, with oil and processors lining the former skin - now within.

Footssteps approached, slowly, in an imperfect mechanical rhythm. The lights began to flicker instead of flash in tune to the siren, which in turn also began to skew. The speaker above my door crackled with static, which rose to an intensity so severe it drowned out my own thoughts. In time, the red glow outside disappeared fully.

Darkness reigned my vision. There was a deafening silence within me, around me, throughout every crevasse in the bunker. Yet the footsteps remained, growing ever louder as the few fleeting moments drew to nil.

A sickly yellow glow arose outside the door, illuminating the concrete corridor with sheer malice-made-material. Footsteps became as great drums in the deep, cracking the earth and shattering continents as if they ought to be unmade of their own accord; bending nature and sense to its unmoving and unknowable iron will.

Then, there was silence.

A shape shambled into sight; tall and slender, cloaked in black and stripes of colour, bound ashen hair upon which glowed five yellow eyes. They stared intently; at me, my self or my soul, the wall behind me, the air in front of and around me, a gaze which could not be placed, a sight that could not be explained by earthly means; as if god had drawn me out out the incomprehensible infinity of the universe and all that is found within it, and had shown it to me as a whole, as it is and was and will be and won't be and cannot, every possibility and combination of matter and thought and mind and nought to be concieved of, and had thus brought to me everything there was to see, that there could ever be to see.

And god wept, wailed in the wake of its magnificence. Tears streamed down a sickening visage of yellow light; hesitation brewed within the deity of terror and death, the vivid angel of the dark, of all that that was wrong with everything that could be considered so.

The one before me had wept just a little longer, just a little louder, and I shall not weep at all.

It moved on. Lights soon flashed once more, and the radio static withdrew from my insides. Thus, the bunker was bathed in stillness.

On that day, only I still drew breath when the sun appeared upon the horizon.

My OC, SD-L before she was corrupted by The Chimera Code + back when she was a worker drone

Some Context!

L was never good at the murdering drones thing and would hesitate when she sees her target crying or screaming in pain.

The rest of her team thought her program was “faulty” but in reality, it’s just what’s left of her old programming. She was a drone programmed to look after children and be a substitute teacher, that’s why when she became a DD she thought everyone was just on a Girl Scout mission so she acts more approachable/softer than the others. However, she does get the job done with some convincing from her teammates bc they needs oil to survive. (yes, I’m bringing that idea back for DD’s cuz I do not like how they got rid of it in the show)

Her good nature might be the reason she ended up deactivated, I’m not sure yet. Gotta think of a story for that one. I might design the two other team members IF I’m not lazy. This is all for now lol.

Feel free to ask me if you have any questions abt her, I love answering em 😈

[Also, might be posting less MD this month bc I have a LOT of work to do irl and I’m working on other projects]

[enjolraspermettendo]

When you are on your period, have 4 exams in 2 days, you are on the brink of a breakdown, and then the fucking mosquitos keep you up at night.

[tonycries]

Haunting You - G.S.

Synopsis. A bIoody trail of vampire attácks, a political marriage, and four suitors you’re forced to choose from - all haunting you. But none as much as the mysterious stranger that makes everything in you scream that you might just be fated for the very thing your kingdom is trying to escape from.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, king! Gojo, vampire AU, he’s actually ÍNSANE, royalty AU, arranged marriages, creampíes, breéding, fated mátes, FÉRAL down bad Gojo, mentions of bIood and kílling, bíting, óral (fem receiving), spítting, marks (a LOT), fíngering, pórn with plot tbh, overstím, ínnapropriate use of powers, jealous! Gojo, slight inspiration from Persephone and Hades, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 15.8k (HUH???)

A/N. Was listening to Haunted by Beyoncé, and my mind went “ooo vampires.” Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

In all your years being carefully primed to take over the throne, there have only been two rules you were raised under:

You live by the crown, and you will die by the crown. No matter what. 

To stop the vampires - if your father, the king, fails to contain the bloody trail of killings before his own inevitable death, you have to. Or, more according to those tedious meetings with the table of elders, your husband will have to.

And it seems as if they were well and fully intent on enforcing that last rule as of late - with sharply increasing numbers of attacks on your local towns, the public was growing restless - and so was the royal court. 

You weren’t doing any better either - but for a wholly different reason.  

Maybe it was paranoia, but these days, you found yourself constantly catching a flash of crystal blue in the corner of your eye. Or hearing a sweet, sweet whisper in your ear deep at night. Maybe even a soft run of fingers down your spine as you were readied for yet another ball - hands much too large to be any of your ladies-in-waiting.

Like something was watching. 

Waiting. 

“And then I- your highness, are you listening?”

That familiar, grating voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you’re gasping in embarrassment as you turn back to the prattling man in front of you. 

“My apologies, Lord Naoya.” you smile tightly, desperate to finish up yet another conversation about his latest cavalry expeditions. Nodding dismissively, “Just tired, please continue with your ah- wonderful tales.”

But of course, when he starts right back from the very beginning to “cover the key points you missed”, your stomach turns when you realize that you won’t be escaping any time soon. Great. Wonderful. Perfect.

God, future suitors your ass. You’d been taught that there’s no such company as “bad company” when you’re an heir to a kingdom, but this has been the fourth royal ball this month - and the biggest one yet. The fourth night you had to listen to another uptight lord show off his sparse battle medals, or another elder snide about how you’d be useless against the dangers of vampires.

You knew it was likely some coping mechanism with the grim deaths this week, but surely the nobles were tired of all this silly dancing? You sure were. 

Gauzy dress just a bit too tight, sighs just a bit too loud than was permitted for the princess, you let your gaze wander across the brilliant ballroom. Those intricate gowns, the huge reflective wall, those little pastries you really wish you could walk away from this conversation and-

Blue. 

Crystal blue.

“Wait! Did you see-” you startle, and it disappears as fast as it appeared. Your heavy skirts sway as you whirl around to uselessly track that odd burst of color, “Did you see that?”

“I know!” Naoya gasps, making you turn your head in excitement. “The light reflects off my medal so gorgeously! Oh, and this one-”

Dammit. 

All through your life, it was this same color that’d been flitting occasionally through your vision, now haunting you almost every day.

You didn’t know where to look to find that familiar blue again - and you didn’t want to stand here waiting to find out. At the very least, your ears have definitely been assaulted with enough talk about horses and how “absolutely enormous” Lord Naoya’s weaponry at the Zenin Estate was.

Compensating, you muse.

The thought helps you plaster on a grin to your face, humming in a saccharine-sweet tone, “It pains me to cut through, my lord.” It really didn’t. “And I’d love to chat more later, but I think I hear my lady-in-waiting calling for me.”

He sputters, breathing out a few profanities under his breath that you catch. An arm raising as if to keep you in place, “Now, wait a minute-”

You’re angling your body expertly to make your dash. Batting your lashes deceivingly innocently, “Oh? What was that?” you cup your ear. “I hear her again- I really do apologize, but feel free to recount your valiant um- fairy tales in a letter.”

“But your father-”

Not waiting to hear the rest of his response, you barely even bother with a polite curtsy before determinedly weaving your way through the stuffy ballroom. Nodding by the nobles greeting you, waving past the throng of young lords that wanted to reel you into more conversation. Your satiny feet taking you anywhere but here - anywhere but where you could feel the still, heavy gaze of something burning into your back as you escaped. 

You just prayed that it was only a miffed Naoya and nothing else.

It was around this time that the orchestra struck up another upbeat waltz, and with most people pairing off on the dance floor, barely anyone noticed you tip-toeing out of the ballroom. 

“God-” you’re letting out a sigh of relief when you reach the long hallway, rubbing at your throbbing temples. “The next ball they host, m’gonna conveniently disappear, I swear.”

You didn’t care enough for what matchmaking would happen in the future anyway, no matter what the elders may tell you. 

Your ballgown swishes with every urgent step through the quiet, dimly-lit corridors. Maybe a bit too quiet. 

Strange. You knew that not many nobles would be wandering around the palace during a ball but, surely you can’t be the only one here? Where were the guards?

Just then, a soft winter breeze puffs against your left ear - and you inhale sharply. “Wha- hello?” you shudder, gaze darting around. “Anyone there?” But when only silence greets you, you’re struck with the sudden thought that the windows along the hallway were closed. 

Where did the wind come from?

The realization has you taut with goosebumps pricking at your skin, your pace increasing ever-so-slightly. Gulping, you round the corner quickly, making a beeline for the closest haven you could find - the library.

Ducking past the towering stone archway, you hastily slam the door closed. It takes you a few seconds to get used to the darkness inside. With silvery moonlight ribbons filtering in through the curtained windows, you could just barely make out the rows upon rows of books you’d pestered your father into lining. Surrounded by heavyset tables, and your favorite, cushioned armchair. Luxurious, yet completely dwarfed when seating the lone silhouette-

“If this is an attack, then I surely don’t mind.”

“Fuck-” you scream, reflexively grabbing the nearest book spine you could reach to throw in the direction of the shadow. “Show yourself.”

Somehow, it’s as if the book bounces off an invisible forcefield, plopping down unceremoniously onto the velvety carpet right in front of the tall figure. 

“And here I thought princesses usually curtseyed.” that deep, honeyed voice cuts right through your heavy breathing. He makes a move to get up - languid, and torturous, as if he enjoyed your agonizing suspense. “Well, maybe I do prefer being pelted by a- hey, that doesn’t mean pick up another book!”

In a split-second, you were brandishing a weighty encyclopedia this time - holding it firmly behind your head in a ready stance to throw once again. 

“Show yourself.”

The man sighs, stepping into a channel of low light. It illuminated his stature - taller than you’d thought, towering well above most of the generals in the royal court. Muscled, yet lean - powerful, the thought strikes you. Magnetizing. 

Someone from outside the kingdom, you observe, otherwise you’d have remembered that cloudy white hair, strands falling over a strange, black blindfold stretched across the upper half of his face. Leaving you only a set of high cheekbones, and a pert, pretty mouth to admire.

One that curls into such a mischievous smirk of neat pearly whites, and a tiny dimple digging into his cheek. “Now, I’ve never had anyone this eager to see me.” He drops into a courteous bow at the waist, expensive blue fabrics rippling. “From the North kingdom, Satoru, at your service, princess.”

Your hand falters - partially because of the heavy weight, partially because you recognised that gold “G” insignia in the middle of this stranger- Satoru’s uniform. The Gojo family. 

That mysterious, estranged kingdom from the Northern part of the country that hadn’t been seen since you were young. You’d heard stories of them - everyone in this vast country had, it was impossible not to. Of their cruel winters and even crueler king, how blood stained every room in his palace. It was rumored he was a monster, and yet, no one ever saw his face - if they did, they never lived to tell the tale. 

You knew your father had invited the king to every single ball out of diplomatic obligation, but he’d never attended. Never even bothered to respond. 

So who was this?

“No one. Just a lowly attendant accompanying my king, your highness.” you’re jolting when he purrs, a brow quirking at just how he knew what you were thinking. “The question ah- showed on your face, my apologies.”

Finding your voice, “Um, I apologize, too, Satoru-” You note the lack of a last name, “-for the book. I can’t imagine being hit with Yaga’s 1001 Methods to Crochet was a very warm welcome.” And like a little truce, you’re placing down the encyclopedia in your hand. Flashing him your most practiced smile, “I bet you’re hiding out here for the same reasons as me, then.”

That draws out a pretty laugh from him, bubbly and boyish. “Mhm, the ladies just refuse to leave you alone, too?”

“Well, more like the lords there.”

He hums, something that sends a chill down your spine. Words just a little strained, “Not much for bragging about horses?” 

And suddenly, you get the urge to snark back, huffing in a way you know your preparational teacher would faint at. “Absolutely not. I’d rather face a vampire than listen to Naoya and the “absolutely enormous” weaponry he uses to-”

“-compensate!”

“-compensate.” the two of you finish at the same time. “I like this place a lot better, it’s quiet- though…” your voice trails off in wonder. “It’s strange, guests aren’t supposed to be allowed in the library unsupervised.” His jaw clenches when your eyes sweep him, “We are supposed to have a few guards here but I don’t know where-”

All of a sudden, it’s like you’re being splashed with cold water. And your words are dying on your tongue when the room drops a few degrees in temperature. 

Satoru is unnervingly still, yet he catches onto your slight shiver. “This damned wind, am I right?” And he’s gesturing at the windows with his head. The closed windows. Words tumbling quickly from those pink lips now, “Anyways- why don’t you sit down-” He prowls towards you, slow, confident. Large hands rest at your arms, they’re pale, surprisingly cold - guiding you easily to sit on the unoccupied armchair. “-since m’being nice enough to let you hide out here.”

His words drip with tease, and you still couldn’t see his eyes, but you imagined they’d be twinkling. No one ever dared to speak to you this way - it was always either thinly-veiled condescension or fear towards royalty. 

Surprisingly, you didn’t mind. 

You roll your eyes, trying to hold back your smile. “Yeah? Well what do I owe you in return for that, Satoru?”

His lips part, as if not expecting this response. Before letting out another sharp cackle at your expense, “Well, why don’t you-” You can’t tear your eyes away from his magnetic figure when Satoru begins unbuttoning his flowing coat to reveal a snow-white shirt underneath. Wrapping it snug around your shoulders in one, fluid motion, a hand of his tilts your head towards him. “-give me your soul?”

The Gojo emblem burns into your back, and Satoru’s deep, almost raspy tone rings in your ears. It sounded like a joke - but looking into his ethereal features, there was no trace of a grin on what you could see of it. And once again, you’re struck by the pure power radiating off of him. 

You hoped it was a joke.

“S-soul’s not for sale.” you manage to choke out, trying to make it look like you weren’t breathing in his metallic, peppermint scent. Heady. Pulling the soft fabric tighter around your cold body, “Steep price for a hideout, don’t you think?”

“S’a discount for you, flower.” his chilling breath fans your face. Letting out hushed, “Heh, you should see the prices I charge others.”

You’re reeling, face burning, “Flower?”

“Because you’re shaking like one, see?” The pads of his fingers move from under your chin to trace up, up, up the goosebumps on your exposed arms. Somehow, you can’t bring yourself to pull away.

Hypnotic. 

And his steps are soundless as he walks over behind you, the moonlight giving him an angelic halo. Haunting, almost. “And you’re just as gorgeous, like a wild rose. Way too gorgeous for the fuckin’ bastards out there, might I add, princess.”

The nerve!

Heart pounding, you turn around to- call him out for his disrespect? Snap back? Accept the compliment?

You don’t know - and you don’t get to find out, either. Because before your eyes can search for Satoru’s mysterious figure, the door to the library is slamming open with a deafening bang!

“Ah! There you are!” your lady-in-waiting’s relieved voice floods your ears. And she’s barging in with no comment about your sudden stiffness, or that foreign coat around your shoulders. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you, your highness. His majesty is just about to make his speech of the night and needs you there.”

Shit, out of all the scandals. 

“I- I can explain.” You’re desperately trying to catch Satoru’s eye to make up an excuse for why you’re alone with a strange man away from the ball, shooting from your seat to look around the library. “We’re just-”

The suddenly empty library. 

“Yes yes, I understand that the balls aren’t exactly your favorite pastime.” The oblivious girl is pushing you towards the door, brown eyes narrowed. “But we’ve got to get going now.”

Despite her wrangling you outside, you manage to sneak a few glances backwards, straining to see if he was hiding in the shadows. Only to be met with a now-rumpled armchair and the still, dark bookshelves. As bare as if Satoru never existed - the only proof of his existence being a sad copy of Yaga’s 1001 Methods to Crochet lying on the ground. 

And yet, you can’t help but feel a pair of eyes on you. 

You feel it all through the short walk back to the ballroom, Nobara’s excited chatter about how finely your all-new coat was made filtering through one ear and out the next. Even when you reach the edge of the dance floor, even when you feel every single other eye in the room on you - you feel it. 

“Um, Nobara.” you whisper, discreetly shuffling the coat off your shoulders. “Please take this to my chambers for me.”

The younger girl is positively bursting at the seams, murmuring conspiratorially to you, “So is this where you were? With who- The “G” what does that-”

“Ah! My daughter!” Saved by your father’s booming voice - though, you wouldn’t consider it too much of a salvation when you’re immediately being whisked away to the high platform your father’s throne was seated on. His arms spread wide to greet you in a hug despite stiff etiquette. 

“You’re late.” he whispers in your ear.

It’s all you can do to manage out a quiet, “S-Sorry.”

Without another word, he’s addressing the congregation in the middle of the dance ballroom again. More ruler than father at this very moment. “My people, we are gathered here today to dance, to sing, to forget about the horrors happening in our beloved nation.” To large murmurs of agreement he continues, “And despite it all, it’s a reality we must all live with. Me, especially, as your king, have a duty to fulfill.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you wonder where this is all going - your father never brought up vampires during a time like this. Never. 

Clearing his throat, “And as we all know, I’m not getting any younger here, unfortunately. Which is why-” He claps his hands once, and three figures - one of which being Naoya, amongst two other nobles you briefly recognized - step forward from the crowd. “Ah- there should be one more- Anyway, after thorough consideration with the table of elders, we have decided to go forward with the betrothal process for my dear daughter here. With the joining of hands will not only be the joining of kingdoms - but the joining of arms, and our people shall prevail as one over the vampires.”

You think you might stop breathing, eyes burning and trained firmly on the ground. This had been a topic of conversation - well, more the elders conversing while you skipped out on every meeting once this discussion was brought up. 

You knew this would happen. You knew. But now? At this very moment? All you can do is stand there and listen while he rattles off. 

“I know four of the- erm, three of the most eligible young suitors of the land will do their utmost to vie for her heart - and her hand. No easy task I tell you.” Your fists clench, head swimming. “And in a week’s time, we will hold the grand ball to announce my successor.”

Shit - a week. A week.

Somewhere in your line of vision you see - you feel that spark of blue. And you’re raising your head to cheers echoing from all around the room, and still no sign of where those eyes are. 

“The next time we meet, will be with the future king and queen!”

Fuck. 

---

That night was spent with a few too many tears, and a consoling Nobara at your side all until daybreak. And if you held onto that comforting, peppermint-scented coat through it all, well, you were only glad that you seemed too pitiful for her to question it. 

Feeling much more composed and only slightly less bitter about the prospect of being married off to a stuck-up noble you didn’t know, you made your way to breakfast the next morning. An affair usually spent with your father, or in the palace gardens - but this time, surrounded by four suitors under the guise of getting to know you. Sizing each other up, maybe. 

“Ah, your highness, good morning!” you sweetly reciprocate the greetings once you’re escorted into the dining room, taking your seat at the very end of the long, mahogany table. 

Sighing you take in the scene - on your left was Lord Naoya from last night, the same sharp grins and shifty eyes as you remembered. Seated beside him was the young duke of the Kashimo clan - hair striking, his battle staff laid out next to him on the table. Intimidating. 

But nothing in comparison to the hulking man on your right, it seemed as if his uniform was on the verge of bursting. Face sullen, letting his pink locks fall into place - Sukuna, you think you remember. 

“Your highness.” Ichiji bows, taking his place supervising the breakfast. “I am afraid our guests from the Northern kingdom will not be able to attend this breakfast today. He sends his deepest apologies. B-but-” His face-paled, looking scarred for life. “-he did have his um- attendant send this note-”

You’re gratefully taking the creamy scrap of paper before the words have even left Ichiji’s mouth, flipping it over to reveal slanted, beautiful calligraphy - Apologies for the sudden departure last night, flower. And I hope you forgive my king for not being here to deter the talk of horses - duty holds both man and beast from freedom. Worry not, we will be seeing your sweet smile again soon. But, for now, give those three bastards a rude gesture from me.

You giggle, tucking away the note. A tiny pang of disappointment hitting you out of nowhere at the lack of that gold “G” emblem anywhere along the table - and more importantly, the white-haired enigma that would follow.

All three men were glowering, yet begrudgingly plowing on with their conversation from before as you settled. Not having the energy to contribute, you listened in. 

“-this would never have happened in my estate.”

“Oh buzz off-” Kashimo interrupts Naoya, before throwing a guilty look your way at his crass words. As if you didn’t say worse. “Apologies, your highness. As I was saying-” he turns back to the man. “Don’t think we haven’t heard of those vampire killings in your court that you tried to cover up, your defense isn’t as impenetrable as you want it to seem, Naoya.”

That causes you to raise your brow - and evidently, Sukuna’s as well. “That so? Little fraud, aren’t ya, Zenin?”

The shorter man sputters indignantly, “You- you little- you call me a fraud and yet you’re the only one who didn’t bother to help investigate last night? Got something to hide, oh king-of-curses?”

“Tch, shut up.” That little nickname ticked something off in Sukuna, and his grip on his delicate fork tightens. Smirk intentionally bared to piss off, “It’s just because when the princess marries me, she won’t have to worry about vampires attacking guards in the middle of a ball.”

Wait, what?

“Yeah right, you and what army because I have an absolutely enormous-”

“What do you mean?” Your smooth voice cuts through their bickering, and all three men freeze, gazes snapping to you as if they’d already forgotten you were there. “I didn’t hear about any killings last night.”

If you thought they were tense before then you weren’t prepared for right now - shoulders raising in surrender, for all their blabbering, not a word was uttered after your accusatory question. After a few beats of silence, you scoff in frustration, turning towards your escort, squirming and avoiding your pointed stare at the very corner of the room. 

“Ichiji.” The man looked like he could positively give anything to blend into the meticulously hand-painted flowers on the wall. “Ichiji, tell me what happened.” 

“P-princess!” he yelps, adjusting his glasses. “I- I’m afraid the king said- please I can’t-”

“Ichiji…”

“P-please don’t banish me-”

You’re on your feet now, cornering the poor man. Mentally, you make a note to give him a raise. Eyes narrowing, “I won’t banish you, but as the future queen I have a right to know, don’t I?”

“...”

“...please?”

And the remaining men had been watching with morbid fascination as you worked your magic. They were already aware that the frail attendant was the weakest link out of them all, but what they certainly did not expect was exactly how weak. 

It only took a single bat of your lashes before his pale cheeks colored an almost-concerning pink. Eyes scrunching shut in embarrassment, as the words spilled from his lips. Neverending and slurring with haste as he speaks in one breath, “Th-three of the guards stationed near the outer corridor and library wing were found killed by a vampire last night before you retired for the night, your highness. Their b-bodies were disposed of, and this in combination with all the recent killings was why the king hurried the announcement for your engagement. B-but, his majesty decreed that this never be relayed to you in order to keep you in high spirits after the betrothal eep-!”

“Is- is that so?” you breathe, eyes wide. Taking one last look at the four speechless men, before walking out of the tall doorway. “I seem to have lost my appetite, I will be heading for my chambers now. I sincerely hope you enjoy your stay, my lords.”

Shit shit shit - how did you not notice? 

Maybe you walked right past the killer last night and didn’t even realize - who knows what could’ve been hiding in the shadows. How did you not realize? How did you not see?

Just then, a thought strikes you - did Satoru see?

---

It’s one of the whirlwind of questions ringing around in your mind even by the time you hear a steady knock on your door. Jolting you upright from where you splayed out on your plush, silken bed, rows upon rows of books on vampires haphazardly surrounding you.

Peering out of your large window, you notice the hues of pink and red painting the sky, a big red sun just dipping below the horizon - shit, when did you even fall asleep? 

“Come in.” you answer, voice scratchy. Rubbing away the sleep in your eyes, you could barely make out the hazy outline of Ichiji standing in your doorway. 

“Ah- your highness, I apologize for waking you up.” he bows. “But master Kashimo will be headed out for a late-night hunt at this very moment, and requested your presence shall you wish it. He noticed that you seemed upset at breakfast, and wanted to make it up to you.”

You take a moment to mull over the question - it certainly was rude for you to just ignore your guests all day. And considering you might just be marrying one of them, it wouldn’t kill anyone to actually get to know them.

“Alright.” you reply, voice even. And your answer seems to surprise the other man, “Tell Tsukumo to get my gear ready, I will be down as soon as I change.”

“Y-yes, princess! I will call for Nobara to help you get dressed.”

As the door shut once more behind him, you threw off your heavy blanket- and your coat? Satoru’s coat, which had evidently been draped around your upper half. Heart stuttering, you didn’t remember putting that on before…

Hm, you had to thank Nobara for that later.

---

Hunting with Kashimo was, unexpectedly, dull. 

“So…” you drag your words, trying to fill the tense silence. “What is it that we’re actually hunting for-”

“Shhh-” you hear for about the third time this past hour. A brow of yours quirking at the way it seemed like the two of you had been wandering the woods belonging to your kingdom’s estate for hours, and you still didn’t know what it was you were supposed to be looking for. 

Alright, perhaps hunting wasn’t the best opportunity to get to know your potential future husband. 

“My lord…” you call out warily, already aware of the duke’s affinity for hunting. “Maybe we should rest for a bit, after all, the stars are out already and the moon is so bright.”

He barely even turns to look back at you, “No time. The woods belonging to your kingdom have some of the rarest species of cursed animals in this country. I must make the most of this week in that case, your highness.”

You brighten at the closest shred of conversation in so long. “Oh, yes, I’ve heard! I also hear they-”

“Shh!”

So close. 

Letting out a resigned sigh, your eyes glaze over as you watch Kashimo trace his thick fingers over animal tracks on the dirt. Suddenly, gesturing for you to follow him as he sped off in another direction. 

It doesn’t take too long for him to stray out of sight. Meanwhile, your legs lag behind in protest - and pettiness, you realize. Grumbling to yourself about how you’d rather have watched paint dry as you’re sure the elders often did. Well, you look at the now-barren pathway, at least now you didn’t have to worry about someone shushing you all the ti-

“AHH!”

And then, all of a sudden - it felt like you were the hunted. 

It’s like every bit of blood drains from your body at the blood-curdling scream. Grip tightening on your bow, you’re jolting at the direction it came from - where did Kashimo disappear off to again? 

Yet, for how much you knew your kingdom like the back of your hand, it’s so dark. The moon barely peeking through gloomy gray wisps of clouds that you don’t know where exactly you’re running to - just that something was tugging. Reeling you in. No destination in sight until you’re crashing face-first into- a wall?

“Hey, flower, where are ya running off to this late?”

Your hairs raise, something visceral in your body jolting. 

Satoru - blindfold and all.  

“Wh- Satoru thank God you’re here.” you gasp, looking nervously over his broad shoulders. “I heard a scream, and I’m worried about Kashimo because he went somewhere over there and-” You’re pointing aimlessly in his direction, before clasping a hand around Satoru’s defined bicep. Tugging, “You have to help me, that idiot even insisted on no guards because of disturbing the wildlife and I’m so worried and-”

Before you can react, big strong arms are enveloping you. And you’re suddenly hit with the smell of peppermint and Satoru - something so sickly sweet tinging the air, it makes you droop limply into his firm hold. Your skin burns when he breathes in, deep. 

“Shhh shhh, I know I know, princess.” he hums, pulling you deeper against his chest. Until you could feel every dip and curve of his pectorals. “You must’ve been scared, right?” At your hesitant nod, “You did good. You did perfect- in fact. Especially putting up with that pretentious bastard.”

The shocked laugh that drags from your throat has Satoru sighing contentedly, an almost-pained grunt leaving him as he pulls away ever-so-slightly. You felt much the same. 

“S’alright, I’m pretty sure it was some animal.” he soothes. He clasps your hands with his, running a damp thumb over your knuckles. “I saw him trudging about disturbing more wildlife over there.”

You breath catches in your chest at just how close Satoru was now, his breath mingling with yours. Pretty plump lips so close - too close. Yet you’re leaning in closer, like you’re drawn by a thread. “Are you sure? Maybe we should-” You gasp, eyes widening when you look down at where your hands were intertwined - red. Or, what you assumed to be red, a saturated, patchy stain on your hands where Satoru’s met yours. He stiffens when he follows your gaze, trying to pull away, but you only hold your grip harder. “Satoru, are you bleeding? Or is this-”

“Not mine.” his voice is hard - and for a second you have to wonder whether this is really the same Satoru. And you swear there’s a little tremor in his words as he explains, “You see, I went out on a little hunt myself, flower.”

Even if Satoru didn’t have his blindfold on, you’re sure his face would’ve been unreadable. That almost-familiar grin of his is strained. Too strained. Yet, his movements are unwavering as he tries to wipe away the blood. “Must’ve forgotten to wipe down, I apologize for sullying your hands, princess.”

“Let me-” you mutter, taking a hold of the coat around your shoulders to wipe away the blood. Uncaring for what you were dirtying at the moment. “I swear you need to take better care of yourself, Satoru. Seriously.” 

And you didn’t see them - but somehow you could just feel the amusement dancing in Satoru’s eyes. Raising your confused gaze up to meet his, “What?”

He only flashes you a knowing grin, “S’jus’, you’re wearing my coat, your highness.”

Your movements pause, mouth gaping open while you try to pathetically spout out an excuse. “I- I didn’t mean to get this coat dirty, oh my god. I didn’t think-”

“S’alright.” he inches in even closer. A smirk grazing those sinful lips of his, “I actually prefer it like that, you look like mine.” Taking a deep breath, “You smell like mine.” 

And before you can ask about his cryptic message, he’s placing a hand at the back of your waist. A very improper hand that would definitely make the elders gasp in scandal. “We should head back to the palace, it’s getting late. I will escort you, m’sure that born hunter of yours is already halfway back too.”

“Carry me.” you blurt out, your body aching to feel more of him. And before you can retract your words - probably sputter a few apologies, you’re being cradled by a smug Satoru. One hand under your knees, the other supporting you like you’re weightless. 

“Heh, a princess carry for a princess.”

“Oh, shut up.” you grumble with embarrassment when he walks forward slowly, your legs swaying in midair. “Want my soul for this as well?”

And you can feel Satoru’s muscles ripple, you can feel the way his breath hitches in his chest ever-so-slightly. Rumbling as he drawls, “More than you’d know.”

“S’that a discount, too? You still didn’t tell me what you charge others.” you quip, remembering the conversation from the night before. 

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough, your highness.”

You’re quirking a brow, something hot churning at the pit of your stomach at that ragged tone to his words. “I’m onto you, y’know.” You stare up at his clenched jaw, highlighted in the dim moonlight. His long, pale neck, the crevices of his blindfold. For a moment, you wonder what it would be like if you could peek under. “Onto you and your absurdly high prices, Satoru.”

He breathes out a shuddering, overly-dramatic shudder. “Mhm, flower, I should be worried.” Before looking up at the sky - and you wondered just how well he could see through his blindfold. “The moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

That night, you dreamt of long-winded star-gazing and blue, blue eyes. 

---

“What do you mean Lord Kashimo has left for his kingdom?” you hiss, feeling a faint stab of offense. Seriously, were you that awful at hunting? “He didn’t make any indication of it last night.”

And if your careless words made Nobara beam with slight embarrassment, you didn’t take note of it - too caught up in what you’d just heard. Enough so that it takes her next words to bring you out of your stupor, “Exactly what I said, your highness. The lordship and his court have all vacated their wing, leaving behind only a letter of forgiveness for ending the festivities early.”

“Still.” you murmur petulantly. Setting aside another one of your books on Vampire: Mates, Murder, and More. “It’s strange, I thought he was here for the hunting sprees, if not for me.” Your tiara weighs heavy on your head as you turn to your young lady-in-waiting. “I would like for Ichiji to catch up to Kashimo’s traveling party, make sure they’re safe, and send them my well wishes.”

Ha! Take that elders - you’d show them you’re fully capable of holding diplomatic relations as a ruler. 

“As you wish, princess. Additionally, this-” She’s holding out a small pouch of blue fabric that you’d never seen before. “-was found by your bedside when cleaning and I wished to give it back safely.” Before her polite smile drops into a much more devious smirk, “A gift from one of the suitors, perhaps~?”

You gesture for her to hand it over, the silk casing soft under your touch. Detailed. One-of-a-kind, from what your tedious lessons in the history of fabrics had taught you. You didn’t recognize the patterns sewn onto it as something typical for your kingdom - or any other you’d learned about, really.

“M’not sure.” you whisper. Opening the little purse to reveal a flash of gold - a necklace. Thin and intricate, holding a sapphire pendant in the shape of an eye. 

Blue.

A blue you knew too well - the same one that peeked out from every dark corner, that you saw before you slept at night. The one that’s been by your side for years.

Constant. Now coming to haunt you. 

Chills run down your spine, and your fingers tremble at how life-like it looked. Burning into your very soul. 

“Would you like for me to help you put it on?” Nobara asks, mistaking your shock for difficulty. And yet, you don’t correct her - body moving before your mind to simply nod. 

There was only one clasp on the chain - leaving you to worry about the fit. But when it was hooked around your neck, you found that it fit you so perfectly. Like it was tailored to you - and only you. Why was it so perfect?

Why did it capture the exact color you’d been chasing after your whole life - since before you’d even formed memories? Since you were nothing but a surly, teary-eyed little girl that was crying about the dark, babbling about that “blue flash” that no one else ever seemed to see.

“If that will be all, your highness. I will take my leave.” With a nod and a low bow, you’re left all by yourself in your sprawling chambers. Wondering, somewhat in amusement, whether you’d be let off this marriage pact if all the other suitors suddenly left as well. Hell, maybe you could marry whoever got you this necklace since they apparently know you so well. 

And you swear - maybe it was the fatigue from trekking last night, maybe it was the stress from the past month - but you swear the wind picks up in its chilly bite. Howling just low enough that it sounds like a deep, taunting cackle. 

The necklace doesn’t leave its palace around your neck for the next few days. You still didn’t know who’d gifted it to you - right inside your chambers for god’s sake - and if either of the two suitors remaining knew, they didn’t make any indication of it either. 

Three, technically, but it seemed that the more the days passed, the less you saw of the mysterious king of the Northern kingdom. 

While Sukuna and Naoya had taken it upon themselves to woo you by joining you in your daily activities, he hadn’t even shown his face to you yet. You were sure your father would’ve had him humiliated and thrown out of the palace already if he wasn’t afraid for his life. 

But you didn’t mind, because you saw enough of Satoru to make up for King Gojo and Kashimo. The man seemed well and fully intent to stick by your side, talking yourselves well into the night. 

It was on a night like this - sprawled out along the plush armchairs in the very library you’d met, only a few days after Kashimo’s departure - you asked, “Satoru, what color are your eyes?”

That makes him pause in the middle of his extremely animated story about how he’d caught Earl Yaga in the middle of an artistic dance routine. The baritone of his voice cracking so uncharacteristically as he responds with, “Wh-why do you ask, princess?”

“Because.” you roll your eyes. “In four days m’gonna be marrying, and it might just be your king. Yet, I don’t even know his attendant’s eye color - what type of good queen would I be then?”

You knew it was a flimsy excuse, truthfully you just wanted to see Satoru. All of Satoru.

“Not many have wanted to look into my eyes” 

You tilt your head, “How come?”

“Well, I can assure you that they aren’t half as alluring as yours.” Satoru pushes back your tiara ever-so-slightly to reveal your face to him better, fingers dancing down to fiddle with your pendant. “You’re a strange one, aren’t ya, flower?” he chuckles, face inching closer to yours - and for a moment, you think he might do something else. “Tell me, how are the wedding preparations going?”

Ah, right - the wedding preparations. Your wedding preparations, to someone else. 

Did you want him to do something else?

“W-well-” you pull back from his hypnotic presence. Heart lurching, necklace burning cold into your skin. “Sukuna keeps trying to teach me his very particular diet, I swear I’ve spent much more time with Uraume learning it than with him- they’re a sweetheart though, I can’t complain.” Eyes trying to avoid the intensity of his gaze, “Oh- and Naoya still talks about his weaponry, however, I think his Zenin elders had a word with him because he asked to meet me in the gardens tomorrow evening to actually get to know me for once.”

You brave to take a look at Satoru at the end of his spiel - only to be met with a face you never thought you’d see. His mouth a tight gash, jaw ticking, and you could almost hear the grinding of his teeth.

Terrifying. Magnetic. 

Powerful. 

The library was always cold - but you fail to suppress a shiver at the sudden grip in the air. “S-Satoru?”

And suddenly, at the mere sound of your voice, everything clicks back to normalcy. You’re staring that familiar grin painted onto his face again, musing slyly, “How much d’you wanna bet he’ll ask about your weaponry instead?”

“Oh, shut up.”

It’s only much, much later at night when you’re forced to retire early - Satoru slipping past the library earlier than usual with groans of his “attendant duties” that you realize - he didn’t answer your question. 

---

“P-princess, will you be alright going alone? I don’t think-”

“It’ll be alright, Ichiji, I’m just meeting Lord Naoya.” you wave off the stammering man. Tugging your velvety coat snugly around your body, “Honestly, you act like I haven’t been out in the gardens alone before.”

And it was true, since returning from his little meeting with the Kashimo court, your jumpy attendant seemed even more so - and you didn’t even know that was even impossible. Always peeking cautiously behind corners of the winding hallways, always hovering close by you even when his duty didn’t require it. 

He’d told you - in that quiet, shaky voice of his - that Kashimo was well, and headed straight for his kingdom to fulfill emergency duties. To which you’d accepted - you understood the gravity of responsibility, after all. 

“But- but, your highness!” he gasps, pulling you out of your little reverie. “I don’t think- with the way he-”

A spine-chilling breeze rustles the nearby tree, sending shivers down your spine. Howling in your ears. You squint your eyes against the cold, “Sorry, what was that, Ichiji?”

But the man in front doesn’t speak - fuck, you didn’t even know if he was breathing. Face a sickly pallor, mouth gaping open and shut like he wanted to say something - he needed to say something. Yet, he wasn’t even looking at you, wide eyes locked on something over your shoulder. 

“Are you-” Your body holds you back, feeling two burning eyes on you - and you have to force yourself to look over your shoulder. Only to see- nothing? “-are you alright?”

Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, you’re turning back to face your attendant - only to see him sprinting back down the entrance as fast as his knobbly legs could carry him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then!” you call, hoping it echoed far enough to be heard.

Strange. 

It’s all you can think about for the next half an hour you’re seated on that dainty, painted bench in the middle of the palace gardens, waiting for your potential future husband. And for the next hour. And the next. 

It’s by the time the sun has fully set, when twinkling stars are dotting the night sky that you settle with the conclusion that yes, it seems that Naoya has already made his decision about the marriage. And no it doesn’t end with a wedding. 

“Dammit.” you spit, running a hand through the hair you had Nobara fuss about with. “S’not like I wanted to marry you anyway, bastard.”

And you didn’t - you really didn’t. Whenever you dared to imagine walking down that decorated aisle, Naoya was the last person you saw.

But seated alone and abandoned, trying to cover yourself from the biting chill of the night, you never felt more like an unworthy heir. Fuck, if no one wanted to marry you how would you even dare to think of taking over the throne?

Maybe you should just-

“We have got to stop meeting like this, flower. S’like you’re haunting me.”

“Satoru!” you gasp, throwing yourself into his embrace. You’re reaching up to loop two arms around his neck, “Oh, you wouldn’t believe it. That asshole had the audacity to stand me up.” Pulling back so your face ghosts his, “I got all dolled up just for him to leave me like this. As if I wanted to be with him, I was just trying to be a good- a good h-host and-” 

Suddenly, you’re struck with the realization of how close you two actually are. You could count every crease on his blindfold, pinpoint exactly where every dimple at the corner of his grin was. 

Your hands slide their way down to his sculpted chest, pushing slightly. “-I apologize, this was forward of me.”

But his arms only tighten around your waist - when did they even get there? Large and steady, pulling you back to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, your racing pulse. “Stay.” he groans, and he sounds slightly out-of-breath, heavy exhales tickling your ear.

“We can’t be caught like this, Satoru.” you breathe, but that familiar little tug has you shuffling closer. Breathing in that familiar metallic sweet scent you’ve grown to love, “I- I’m getting-” Bile creeps up at the back of your throat, and you laugh bitterly. “I think I’m getting married in three days, y’know? To Lord Sukuna, I assume, since two of my suitors ah- ran away and the other refuses to even see my face.”

His thick fingers dig deeper into the extravagant corset at your waist, “I know. Fuck- don’t I know.”

It’s a steady beat of silence, so still. So tense you could hear every stuttering heartbeat of yours, and strangely enough, you had the nagging feeling that he could, too. 

“You could just marry me.” Satoru’s abrupt confession breaks the silence, and you find yourself sinking deeper into his soft coat. Wrapping yourself up in his heady presence. “Be my queen. You wouldn’t have to worry about duties or elders or- or vampires.”

And the night was still. So still. 

Despite the way your heart races, eyes blinking up in disbelief, you find it in yourself to deadpan, “F-funny. Do I have to give you my soul for that as well?” Oh, some stupid little part of you think you might just have.

And you’d expected Satoru to crack a laugh, to give you a teasing smile while he carried on that little inside joke between the two of you. You’d expected him to no sooner shove you off and talk about it being late. Hell, a part of you even expected this to be some elaborate set-up from the elders to get you caught in such a compromising position with the no-longer stranger from the Northern kingdom. 

But, no. It’s anything but that - everything but that. 

Because the taller man only rasps, nose-to-nose now, “No.” Sounding like his sanity was slipping away from him with every breath, fingers making their dance down to twirl your sapphire pendant between them. “I’d give you mine.”

You can feel his breath fanning your cheeks, head dipping slowly - so torturously slowly. As if he was giving you ample opportunity to run away if you wanted to. But you don’t think you could move for the life of you. 

Instead, you’re dipping closer, gliding the tip of your thumb over his defined cheekbone. Mere millimeters away - just one push. Another hand of yours steadies at the back of his neck, feeling those snowing locks under your fingers. 

One. 

Your thumb dips just under the seam of his blindfold - unwillingly. 

“Your highness.” Satoru’s voice is cold, his fingers lacing with your own even colder. Something eerie. And even with the delicate touch you could feel the power thrumming through Satoru’s body. “This is for you.”

You can only stand there in shocked silence as the moment shatters, and he produces a wild rose as if out of thin air. “Consider it from King Gojo.” Touch searing against yours when he hands it to you, you feel drunk off of him “Perhaps the night is late now.”

Right. The king. 

When you’re walking back in the directions of the palace’s warm lights, you don’t think you’ve ever felt safer. Strangely enough. 

“Satoru.”

“Yes?”

“I’m onto you.”

“You’re onto me.” he’s tucking the bloom over your ear. Before stepping back into the inky pool of shadows beside the entrance you came from. “Sweet dreams, flower.”

That night, when you tuck yourself into bed, you swear you hear a faint whisper of those same three words lulling you to sleep. Over and over. 

Sweet.

Dreams.

Flower. 

---

Floral preservation was one of the lessons you’d been forced to attend growing up in the palace, but even you didn’t know how that wild rose Satoru gifted you hadn’t wilted yet. 

It remained as fresh and prim as the night it was picked, bluish pink petals never fading. You didn’t keep it safely in a bowl of water amongst the other plants and flowers in your bedroom. Somehow, never out of place, always tucked safely behind your ear in the days that followed. Perhaps it was improper to keep it on you even when you were being fitted into an engagement gown to be promised off to another man. But Satoru didn’t complain, and you didn’t either. 

With Kashimo departing for his kingdom early, and Naoya apparently following in his footsteps due to “irrevocable differences”, it was now almost confirmed that the future king was to be Lord Sukuna. Not like King Gojo had made any effort to reach out - and Satoru hadn’t mentioned it either. 

Satoru. 

Things were…the same after that night, and you didn’t know what to make of it.

It must be done, you sigh, wincing at the pinch of the flowing white dress being suited onto you by the bustling tailor. At least it could be worse, even if you’d rather…

“Honestly, young people these days.” Yaga speaks up from where he was fussing with the silken hem of your gown for tomorrow. “I heard of that Naoya brat leaving out of nowhere, princess. My condolences.” 

“Ah-” you startle, not expecting to be addressed. “It’s not your fault, we likely didn’t mesh all that well. I just wish he left a note- Honestly, I’m lucky to even have a suitor left after these six days.”

Another grimace leaves you when you feel another tweak of pins pricking at your skin. The other man hums lowly, “Don’t say that, anyone would be lucky to have you. Anyway-” He gets up from his position kneeling, towering over you to admire his own work. “How do you like it, your highness?”

You let out a gasp when you face the floor-length mirror, “Oh my god, it’s perfect.” The dress was regal, decadent. With flowing tresses resembling a petals, and gilded gold and blue weaved into the fabric. 

Blue. 

“I fashioned it after that necklace and flower of yours.” You unwittingly reach for that familiar pendant, “I ah- forgive the assumption, but I assumed you would be wearing them both at the betrothal ceremony tomorrow, princess?”

Taking another long look in the mirror, you nod, “Yeah. I will.”

---

“I knew it.” he laughs shrilly. “I fuckin’ knew there was something wrong with you. As soon as I saw you butterin’ the princess up in the library, I knew you were a fuckin’ freak.”

The other man only responds with ominous silence, letting labored breathing cut through the bone-chilling air. Clearly unsatisfied, “What? Not gonna talk now? Aren’t ya just in it for the crown like me? Have the bitch, just give me the crown.” Goading now, “I bet you’re not even an attendant are ya- I know what you are-”

His words are cut off with another choked-up gasp, followed shortly by a strained growl. “I know- what you are-”

Red stains the marble floor - a problem for later. 

“I know, King Gojo.” And it’s the last thing he sees. “And you’ll reap what you sow, she’ll never love you.”

Blue. 

“You’ve haunted me too long, flower.”

“Satoru–!” you scream, throwing your soft bed sheets off your body. 

It was burning - you were burning, gasping for the cold lungfuls of air that filled your empty bedroom. Mind bleary, distantly, you register that it’s around daybreak - tiny fingers of golden sunlight just barely dipping through your window - your open window. 

Hastily, you’re tumbling out of bed to slam it shut. Heart still pounding when you take in the mess of flower petals from those congratulatory bouquets you’d gotten. Ruined. Only the stems left in the vases after that sudden, chilling wind. 

“What-” Your eyes dart around to look over your dresser, where you always kept Satoru’s wild rose. And a shiver creeps down your spine when you realize it lay snug tucked behind your ear, safe and sound. Exactly where you didn’t keep it. “-happened?”

You couldn’t settle back into bed after that - couldn’t even think about it. So you find yourself reaching for your wardrobe of dresses, running your fingers along the intricate gown made for your engagement ball tonight. Your engagement to Sukuna. 

If this was the nightmare, and tonight was to be the dream - why did your stomach turn so?

---

It was difficult convincing Nobara to let you keep the wild rose on after getting ready. 

“But that’s so last season.” she bemoans. “No offense, your highness, but even old lady Ogami wouldn’t be caught dead wearing flowers in her hair these days.”

You’re giving her your best puppy dog eyes, “Please, Nobara?”

“No.”

“I’ll let you raid my exclusive wardrobe the next time you want to play dress-up?”

“...”

Which was how you found yourself shoved into a dress that was way too gorgeously palatial, barely even having the time to admire the lush gold and blue decorations around the sparkling ballroom before you were being ushered next to your father on his throne. 

You fiddle with your ringed fingers, feeling more and more like a lamb sent to slaughter - a very opulent slaughter - with each step. 

“I am so proud of you for this week, and you look absolutely divine, my love.” your father whispers into your ear once you’re up on the crushed velvet platform. “I hear from Ichiji that you know, I apologize we couldn’t go through with this marriage under better circumstances.”

You shake your head, giving him a calm smile - you’d already forgiven him, sometimes there was duty far greater than any man. 

“My people, as promised, we are gathered once more to celebrate the joining of two hands - and two kingdoms.” The king projects his voice out to the eager crowd, “Together, these two young loves will face their duty. They will face the dangers. They will face our future.”

The thought had you clenching your fist into the soft fabric of your gown, looking down at your feet in a bow. 

“As I did with my father before me - God rest his soul - the future king and queen will oversee their responsibilities to protect our people from those treacherous vampires. The elders-” he stops short, eyes widening at the empty seats on the balcony - where the table of elders always sat. Abandoned. Chilling. “...have decreed, in accordance with our princess, to introduce my daughter to you all as our future queen-”

Your father gestures a hand your way, and you step forwards to cheers, still not daring to look up. And all you could see were two, gold-toed boots stepping into your field of vision.

“-and our future king!”

“Look up, flower, this is the best part.”

Gasping, you raise your head - Satoru.

“Y-you?” 

He smiles that pearly smile at you, one that makes your knees weaken, “Me.” Before leaning down conspiratorially,  “Better get moving now, the king just declared that the big bad Northern king and the precious princess will have their first dance as a couple.”

It felt like you were moving through a dream as you slip your hand into his, flinching at the feeling of his cold lips meeting the back of your hand.

The crowd of whispering nobles part to make a path for the two of you, and Satoru is so gentle when he leads you into the middle of the dance floor. Weightless on his feet, swiftly placing a burning hand on your waist - just below where the elders would consider proper. 

The other intertwining with yours, you barely even register the slow, romantic tune playing from the orchestra. 

“I bet you have questions.” he whispers, breath fanning your cheeks. 

You take in his tall figure, the rows of medals, gleaming only half as bright as the smile that makes its way onto your face. Hissing, “That doesn’t cover the half of it, King Gojo.”

“I-I apologize. I can’t apologize enough but-”

“Though, I did have a nagging feeling about the fifth time you talked yourself up.” you smirk.

Satoru throws his head back in a loud cackle, echoing through the hushed crowds - no doubt gossiping about this being the Northern king, that fearful beast that ruled over the Gojo family. “I know.” His hand comes up momentarily to brush over your sapphire necklace, “And I’ll spend our entire lives making it up to you, flower.”

Goosebumps dance down your arm, your spine, right down to where Satoru held a firm grip on your hip. You two waltz around the edge of the dance floor, perfectly in time. Through the crowd of grumbling lords, the orchestra, past the table of foods.

“And exactly how long would the rest of our lives be, Satoru?”

Slowing right in front of that huge, reflective wall. 

You couldn’t see his eyes, but his biting gaze was all you could feel. 

Lingering on the blue pendant nestled at your chest, the everlasting wild rose tucked behind your ear, the mirror to your right - where the twin image of you shone. Powerful, gorgeous, everything that a monster like him could never have because he wasn’t standing there right next to you. His kind never could. 

In the back of your mind, you registered collective gasps sounding all around you - the rest of the ball attendees that’d also taken note of the lack of Satoru’s reflection. But your eyes stay locked on him. 

A thumb hooks under his blindfold, and he grimaces. “You really were onto me, huh, flower?”

Tugging. 

Your fingers tighten around his, unable to let the most fearsome of creatures escape from your grasp. “You must’ve been onto me, too, Satoru.”

Pulling. 

All you see is a flash of a regal nose bridge, and the flutter of thick white lashes - before every single chandelier in the ballroom snuffs out at once. Cloaking the room in unnatural darkness, it sends every single knight and noble into a frenzy. 

And then, he opens his eyes. 

“IT’S HIM-”

“A body! A BODY FOUND IN THE ROYAL GUEST SUITE–

“VAMPIRE! STAY BACK-“

Oh, it’s blue. 

That crystal blue. 

And then it’s black.

---

SLAM!

“If you must kill me.” Satoru’s voice sounds from somewhere above you. You blink away the darkness, feeling your bleary gaze try and adjust to that unfamiliar high ceiling, the outlines of hauntingly beautiful paintings on it. His ragged breaths cut through your thoughts once more, hastily folding your hand to grip your pendant. “If you must kill me, then I prefer you do it with your own hands, princess.”

You can’t tell whose hand is trembling more - yours or his. Distantly, you realize you’re being pushed up against a luxuriously padded wall, one you’d never seen before in your life. 

Where were you?

“The Gojo palace- Please-” he reads your mind, voice breaking at the end of his plea. Gasping - and you can discern two elongated teeth at his canines. Fangs, you realize with a shiver. “You may leave if you want to, you may kill me for what I’ve done. My life is in your hands.”

“Satoru.” you soothe in a hushed voice, despite the way your head was reeling. The Gojo palace? “I won’t kill you.”

“But-”

“Satoru, what does this necklace mean?” You beg, and at this point, you’re not surprised that the necklace is from him - because it was an exact replica of the two burning eyes staring back at you. The only source of light right now, glowing a blue you’d finally found after a lifetime. “Why did you-” you gulp, heart lurching. “Why did you hand me your…life?”

Soft lips play right over your rapid pulse, murmuring into your skin, “S’my soul.” A long, pale index of his plays with the pendant. “The only part of my soul that’s living, gilded into a necklace to be kept in the safest place I know. You.”

“But-” you cry out, trying to get another look at his eyes - but your fiancé only kisses deeper at your neck. Nibbling at the thundering beat just below. “But why did you give it to me?”

“Who else would I give it to, if not for my mate?”

Mates - there were a thousand and one books and official documents detailing everything from a vampire’s killing pattern to the aphrodisiac toxins found in their blood. But the research on a vampire’s mate was far and few between.

Perhaps owing to the lack of willing mates that can come out without persecution, or perhaps due to the vampires’ intense rumored mating rituals. But it didn’t go without its own gossip, you were no stranger to the ladies of the court tittering about how morbidly “romantic” it was that mates were akin to soulmates - how it was an invisible string connecting two people to share a life, a soul. 

A vampire’s one and only mate.

Satoru was pinning you harder to the wall now, his pink tongue darting out to lick over your pulse. The fingers holding onto the necklace were now tilting your chin up at him, “Speak to me, flower.”

“I’m your mate?” you whimper, your lips ghosting over his. Already knowing the answer, but fuck you needed to hear it from him. “What does that mean exactly?”

He lets out a pained grunt, pressing his forehead gently against yours. “It means you’re the other half of my soul. My only one, I was born for you.” Pressing a chaste peck on there - and you swear you could feel the nip of two sharp canines against your skin. “The one I’ll fight heaven and hell for, until the very last beat of my cold, dead heart.” Your fingers curl at his shoulders when his mouth moves to the shell of your ear. “The one I’ll kill for, take out every measly scum that thinks they can get with my mate.”

He huffs out a burst of cold laughter when your breath hitches, probably reading over the thoughts running through your mind - Satoru killed them. The guards, Kashimo, Naoya- fuck, maybe even Sukuna. He killed them. He killed them. He killed them. He killed them. 

You shiver, “A-and all the wind? The whispers? I thought it was just you these past week b-but- All my life, that was you?”

You know. You knew. 

Another kiss - this time to the corner of your eye, and Satoru licks a long, content stripe up the big fat tears unwillingly welling up behind your eyes. He groans at the salty taste of you, taking in a long, drawn-out breath. “Yes.”

All it takes is that single word for your entire body to collapse, thankfully onto an awaiting Satoru. He holds your entire body weight with one hand around your waist, the other coming up to swipe his thumb under those tears rolling down your cheeks now. 

He kisses your cheek, “All your life.” The corner of your lips, “And all of mine.” 

Run away run away run away run away-

But you can’t - you don’t want to.

Your lips wobble when he nuzzles down your face, leaving a trail of hot kisses with his cold, cold mouth. “As soon as I learned to use my powers - was just a brat you see - I just had to see my mate. To smell her scent.” He’s inhaling deeply again, hands groping over your engagement gown. “Lo and behold, there was you. A cute lil’ princess around my age, tuckered out and fast asleep.” Lingering at your jaw, the hand tight around your waist pulls you painfully closer. Satoru’s knee wedging itself between your trembling thighs, “Imagine my surprise when she took one look at me and cried. Scared me enough to teleport outta there as soon as you opened that smart mouth, flower.”

And the thought of Satoru - tiny and determined - teleporting halfway across the land only to be yelled at by you has you huffing out a shock of laughter.

“So when I heard through the grapevine about your potential engagement, fuck- I couldn’t have ran out of this palace faster. Was so excited I fuckin’ forgot to teleport, too. Even if you were afraid of the ‘cruel Northern king.’” 

Fuck - that’s right. He must’ve heard your thoughts that time you met him in the library. 

Satoru’s tone drops to a low simper, so close now that you could feel every slight curve of his grin. Every twitch of his fingers sweeping up and down your exposed skin, feeling the delicious thrum of your veins. He could bite you right now - easily.  “And luckily, as I grew up, so did my ability to blend in with the darkness.” Eyes boring into yours, something so vulnerable in them now. “But you found me, you always did.”

“Satoru.” you angle your head upwards. “Kiss me.”

And how could he ever deny you?

You wince at the slight pinch of Satoru’s teeth - his fangs - as he crashes his lips into yours in a greedy kiss. Sliding his tongue over to taste those candied lips he’s been dreaming of for years. 

“Fuck-” he breathes out through his nose, jaw sagging open further to kiss you deeper. “Fuck, princess.”

Strong arms pin you harder against the wall, and you’re blindly reaching out to reciprocate even a fraction of Satoru’s neediness. Just dragging your hips up and down his muscled thighs. Sinful. 

Shit, it was so endearing to him seeing you struggle to touch him this way. And with a flick of a wrist, the candle chandeliers hung high above your heads are lighting up at once. “S’that better, flower?”

It takes every bit of will in you to manage to pull away, yet the thought of seeing Satoru - of really seeing Satoru is what spurs you to break the kiss. Delicate strings of saturated spit snapping in the non-existent air between you two, you take a long look at your new husband.

Fuck, he was so pretty.

You always knew he was. 

But even with his face tilted downwards, within the soft light tinting those snowy strands a sunset yellow - you could make out the pretty pink flush all the way from his glossy, ravaged lips, up, up, up to his delicate cheeks - he looked like the last thing from a monster. 

“No you’re pretty.” he hums, and you’re still not used to him reading your mind. Head nodding downwards, “Just look, grinding on my thigh like such a slut.”

What met you was a dark pool of slick saturating his trousers,  just peeking out over the hem of your dress. It makes you give another lingering, experimental grind.

“Satoru—” you’re letting out a honeyed drag of his name, reveling in the way it makes him swallow heavily. “You can hear my thoughts, right?” Look at me. 

Slowly - but surely - familiar blue meets yours. Half-lidded, pupils blown, and if you didn’t know any better you’d have said there were tiny sparks of lightning at the corners of his long white lashes.

You’ve been haunting me my whole life, Toru.

And it was an accident - it really was, your freshly kissed brain too hazy to slur out Satoru’s full name. But the impromptu little nickname has him dragging forwards like he was magnetized. 

A low growl escaping when he’s kissing you again. And again. And again and again and-

“Say it-” Two hands are tugging at those tedious ribbons tying your decadent gown together. Pulling. “Say it again f’me.” Ripping. 

The more his lips are assaulting yours, the more the dress slips further and further down your shoulders. Tattered. The soft satin leaving goosebumps down your spine as it reveals your neckline - all that skin for him to ruin. To mark. 

“Oh-” you’re squealing when one of Satoru’s fangs prick a bit too hard at your lip. Feeling a hot flow of crimson bleed out, the feeling has you so weak. So drunk. “Quite eager, aren’t ya?”

“You have no idea.” he groans again. Soft tongue moving from swirling around your own to lazily pool your blood on it. And you can’t imagine what about the metallic taste would be so euphoric, but he’s letting out his loudest drag of your name yet. Eyes rolling to the back of his head like he’s just tasted a personal slice of heaven. “Fuck- fuck you have no idea.”

You moan into the kiss when he bites down again on your already-bruised lower lip, “I’ve always wanted to do this-” Slow, slow hands kneading up your waist, at a dizzying tempo matching his mouth down your jaw, your neck. Hips bucking, you feel the outline of something so hard between his legs. “-to kiss you. To-” Tethering on the sensitive area of your pulse, “-bite.”

In a split-second, you’re sinking down into plush silk sheets, swallowing you whole in a king-sized bed you didn’t even realize was in the room before. 

“S-Satoru, did you teleport us again?” you gasp, eyes adjusting to the intricate paintings on the ceiling that you hadn’t gotten to admire before. Of white-haired youths and roses, of cold, dark palaces and- and you. 

You - when you were younger, sleeping peacefully while a little boy watches intrigued from the corner. You - passed out in the library after a long night of reading, two pale hands wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. You - your brows furrowed, head cocked while you pushed past nobles to search for that flash of his blue. You, you, you.

You. 

“I can hear the gears in that pretty head turning.” Satoru grins, still kissing you in a languid graze of lips. “And as much as I love it when you hah- admire my lonely paintings, I’d rather you pay attention to-” A low groan curdles at the back of his throat when he’s grinding his massive clothed erection against the syrupy spot at your core. “-me.”

There’s a dark little huff of laughter and with one last bite at the side of your neck, Satoru’s unapologetically tearing right through the middle of your gown. 

And you know it’s made with the finest fabrics the country has to offer, you know that no normal man should be able to even rip a tiny shred through your dress - but Satoru is no ordinary man.

Your spike of disappointment is quickly overshadowed by cold breath hovering over your exposed tits. “Oh, so perfect f’me.” he’s groaning, deep and primal. Biting down on your hardened nipple, “Ya think those uptight elders your court has- ah, had would appreciate me desecrating their precious princess before marriage?”

Through gasps, you peek down at his wicked tongue, swirling around the sensitive spots of your areola. “Who- who gives a shit.”

“So feisty.” The peaks of your tits are left coated in him as Satoru pulls away. “So addictive.” Pinching your soft flesh between his teeth - just hard enough that you worry he’s out to draw blood again. “So- so-” 

Words are failing Satoru’s sharp mouth as he kisses his way down your body. The valley of your chest, your stomach, your hips.

Down, down, down-

“Fuck, Satoru-” you’re hissing when he easily pulls the pathetic remains of your dress off and onto the floor. The rest of your inner skirts easily following afterwards. “Are you gonna…”

“M’afraid not.” he licks sloppy circles at the skin of your thighs. Tasting, nipping, leaving little marks with his fangs for later. Sloppily soothing his tongue over the tiny droplets of blood beading from the bites, he murmurs stubbornly, “Not until you address me correctly.”

Hesitantly, you reach out a limp hand to thread through his dampening white tresses. Tugging softly to lock those devouring blue eyes with yours, “Please, Toru?”

You get absolutely no warning when he kisses right through that flimsy excuse of your drenched panties to slide his tongue up and down your sopping wet slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“Sh-shit, Toru-” you moan when he’s just dipping the very tip barely past your puffy folds. The fabric of your underwear still sticking to you, “Stop being such a tease, goddammit ngh-”

“Why?” Of course, he toys with your patience even now, addicted to those needy whines falling from your lips. “I jus’ wanna play with my princess’s pretty pussy. What am I getting out of it?” 

You smirk, not even having to move your pretty mouth to know you had him in the palm of your hand already. I’d be your mate for life. 

It’s all you can do to watch with satisfaction as the great Gojo Satoru gasps - gasps. Slick-glossed lips falling into a soft oh! Hazy eyes widening almost-comically, and at full heady attention while he takes a few seconds to mull over your words. 

RIP!

In an instant, your soaked underwear is ripped clean off to bare your dripping cunt for him, wrapped tightly around Satoru’s fingers and disappearing down below to where your imagination couldn’t handle. 

“Oh, such a pretty pussy.” he coos, thumbing apart your puffy folds to admire your lewdly winking cunt. Glistening and so so needy, you jolt when he bullies two long fingers past your sloppy entrance. With your greedy hole swallowing every slender inch of Satoru’s fingers easily, “So needy too. This all f’me?”

As if to prove his point, his pink lips wrap around your throbbing clit, grinding his tongue over the ravaged tip. The harsh texture of his tastebuds rolling over every inch of you he could reach.

“Y-yes-” you squeal, hips bucking down mindlessly to try and match his relentless tempo. “S’only for you.”

“Tha’s what I love to hear-” Satoru’s cheeks hollow when he sucks on your sensitive little nub - hard. “Sweeter than I even imagined, shit-”

Every pump of his merciless fingers in and out of your cunt drags along your gummy walls. Deftly curling to prey at those hidden sweet spots of yours he just knew would wrench out such throaty moans from you - and fuck, Satoru thinks- no, he knows that the sound is is favorite song. 

“You’re makin’ me- hah making me fall in love all over again.” he gruffs out into your cunt. The pads of his fingers pressing into the cushiony ends of your pussy. “Because look how messy you are- how loud.”

You didn’t know if he had mind-control powers on top of mind-reading, because it’s as if you’re on auto-pilot when your lolling head is whirling down to look at the absolute sin made of you below. Satoru - running his mouth a mile a minute to send white-hot vibrations along your clit. His milky fingers buried knuckle-deep to stretch out your poor cunt. Your sweet sweet juices drooling all over them in such an obscene sheen down his palm, his wrist. 

He whines, “Makin’ me wanna-” You jolt when he’s biting down so dangerously around your clit. “Wanna-”

Satoru doesn’t end up finishing his sentence - and he doesn’t have to. 

Because he’s pausing his make-out with your clit to spit once. Twice. A thick thumb swiping at the intentional splatter of saliva marking your skin, before surging forwards even deeper - you didn’t even think that was possible. But Satoru has the tip of his nose rubbing methodical circles against your clit, jaw grinding at the base of your pussy, tongue flattening out your pussy lips.

Messy. Harsh. 

“Oh- oh my god, Toru-” you’re keening at the feeling of his wet muscle trying to squeeze in past the fingers still continuing their assault on your entrance. “It- it won’t fit–”

“Shhh shhh, s’okay, princess.” he hushes, letting another round glob of spit wet your clingy pussy. “You can take it. You will - otherwise how are you gonna take your husband, hm?”

That little comment has connotations that make your plushy walls clamp down vice-like around his fingers - his tongue. And you’re angling your head just right, blinking away the lustful haze in your eyes to spy down at the rapid, jerky movements of his other hand. Devouring gaze dropping down to-

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

It was difficult to even look at the sight below - your panties, soaked and completely see-through with slick and precum, wrapped prettily around what you could make out to be Satoru’s aching cock. Standing proud, twitching wildly with every drag of his fist up and down his glistening length. 

“Fuck-” he groans, taking the opportunity to devilishly slip his tongue past your feeble entrance. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck- y’like this, huh?” Drawled out little praises now muffled as he fucks you on his tongue the way he wished he could with his cock. In and out in and out in and out. Pulling back to eye your gaping hole, “I can feel y’getting wetter for me is it because-” Before surging back forwards, as if he’s addicted. “Because-” Again.“Fuck don’t clench around me that way. Was hard enough trying not to fuck you stupid right there in the middle of the ballroom.” 

You whine, tears flowing down freely at the sheer pleasure at this point. “Y-you-” you gasp, your five fingers splaying out over Satoru’s head. Pushing even harsher, “You hngh- talk too much- m’so close-”

Partially because you really needed those pretty lips back at your heated core, partially because every word tumbling from his mouth had you throbbing embarrassingly, your slick spreading a glossy sheen on the sheets underneath you. 

“Oh yeah? Heh, anything for you, flower.” Satoru grins such a sly, sultry grin and you feel it against one set of your swollen lips. “Absolutely anything.”

In and out in and out. He has his brows furrowed now, concentrated on having every flick and divot of movement pushing you closer and closer towards the edge. Faster. Sloppier. You have half the mind to wonder whether it didn’t hurt - whether Satoru’s tongue wasn’t cramping up from how fast he was going, whether his fingers weren’t tired already.

Out of the corner of your spotty vision, you can see those stuttering squeezes of Satoru’s hand speed up. Trying desperately to match each bullying push of his tongue and his fingers into your overstuffed pussy. 

The thought makes you whine, “Oh my god- Toru, m’gonna cum.” And shit, at this point it’s too much. You couldn’t think - you couldn’t even breathe. “M’so close please.” Barely able to even register anything but Satoru Satoru Satoru-

It’s why you don’t even realize at first when you’re finally cumming - Satoru does, though. He feels it in the way your heavenly walls are closing down on his fingers, clenching around him so tight that it was almost difficult to fuck you through your orgasm. Waves of electric pleasure crashing into you and you think you’re drowning.

“Tha’s it.” he rasps. “Cum f’me like that, tha’s it- thaaat’s it, such a good lil’ wife- a perfect mate.” 

The fingers stuffed deep inside your pussy are being pulled out in a flash - not letting you waste a moment of your heady high before he’s toying ravenously with your swollen clit. Pinching, and rolling between two soft fingers. 

“O-oh fuck, m’-cumming? M’cumming m’cumming-” you moan deliriously, mind just now catching up. Your hips drag your sloppy pussy all over Satoru’s pretty face. Just drenching his noble features with your gushing mess. “Feels too ah- good, Toru.”

And he takes it like it’s everything he needs - everything he’s ever wanted. 

Jaw falling slack to let your juices slide down his throat, tongue lolling out flick your spasming cunt through your high. Unstopping. Unwavering. 

Even when your vision stops tingeing with black at the edges, even when you think you’re sane enough to form a coherent thought. Even when your climax is bating enough that every flick of Satoru’s tongue only sends almost painful thrums of pleasure down your spine.

“W-wait m’done-” you sob, tasting the salty stream of tears splashing down your face now. “S’too sensitive- ngh-”

When he doesn’t show any signs of stopping anytime soon, you try again - this time thinking the embarrassing thought out loud. I…I really want you inside me now, Toru. Please?

And he pauses - jolting, as if some dark, primal part of him had just been called back to life. Tongue still hot on your cunt, fist still greedy around his rock-hard shaft. 

“F-fuck you’re gonna be the death of me, flower.”

And before, you couldn’t get enough of those striking blue eyes, but now you couldn’t escape them.

With inhuman speed, he’s shuffling up the soaked sheets. “An absolute fuckin-” Slick-glossed lips meet yours, smearing along the combination of juices till the lower half of your face was as dripping wet as Satoru’s. “-minx, y’know that?”

“Wh-what can I say?” you tilt your head with a smirk, lips a bit too loose than you’d like - but it didn’t matter anyway, he was in your thoughts. Your mind. “I’m your mate, after all.”

He falls back onto his knees at that sinful little sentence of yours, throwing his head back in a guttural groan. “Fuck- you’re mine alright. See what you hah- do to me? See how this is all your fault?” 

If Satoru expected an answer, then he doesn’t receive it. Because every snippy little retort on the tip of your tongue melts when you get a long, hard look at the angry shaft in his hand. So red and angry. Thick enough that you felt your cunt quiver already.

Delicate with prominent veins that glistened and throbbed down his long, long length with each slew of his vigorous fist. And his tip- fuck, blushed your favorite shade of weepy pink, slobbering a sheen of precum all down his wrist, his tufts of cloudy white. 

And you realize with a jolt that he still had your panties wrapped around him - looking so tiny around Satoru’s massive cock. 

Wordlessly, your hand replaces his.

“W-woah- fuck-” His toned waist flexes with the effort to fuck up into the soft cushion of your palm. “How the- ngh how the fuck does your fuckin’ hand feel this good?”

“You’re so big- fuck, don’t know how I’d- Wait you never imagined this?” you bat your eyes up with faux innocence. A thumb gliding over that deep divot on the very tip of his fat head. “Because I sure have, Toru.” 

Satoru’s heavy balls smack against your arm when he shuffles down his pants even further, now fully letting you go ahead with your agonizing torture. “Shit-” he yelps, eyes screwing shut at the image. “Don’t- don’t say that, holy shit.”

You toy with your scrap of panties, massaging every ridge and curve with it. Just dragging your hand up and down. “Would you rather I think it instead?”

Within milliseconds, two sharp fangs are poised right above your rapid pulse, a hand around your throat. “No- no no no no-” Satoru gasps, sounding like he was at the end of his rope. And it takes him a few blinks to realize his position, immediately moving his lips up to nip at your jaw. “Fuckin’ no.” Hard enough that another red pearl of blood drips out, instantly being sucked up greedily by your fiancé. “Gonna make me lose it before I-I ngh-”

With a pained growl, he suddenly has you sitting so prettily on his muscular lap. Your legs splayed out like such a slut, needy cunt slobbering all over where you were sat right on his demanding erection. 

By the time you’re realizing your helpless position, it’s too late - and Satoru’s already shrugging off the rest of his pants. Buttons hitting the floor when he just tears his flowing dress shirt off. 

“Sh-show off.” you breathe, hands mapping out every dip and curve of the plane of defined muscles displayed before you. So mouthwatering. 

“Can tell that you- ngh think m’mouthwatering, flower.” he grins. One hand kneading and groping the flesh of your ass to steady your drooling cunt to kiss at his thick tip. The other keeping one of your palms stuck to his washboard abs, up, up, up to press at his sculpted left pec. “N’ I know m’heart’s not beating, but I’m much the same. Very- much the- same.”

And Satoru’s spent years waiting, yearning - so he doesn’t waste even a second more when stuffing his cock inside your snug cunt. 

“O-oh. Satoru- Satoru please oh-”

The stretch - fuck, the stretch. The stretch is so much that it feels like you’re being split apart. Just the bare tip of his fat cock being bullied in short, determined half-thrusts. 

And it takes only one, lucky collision into the bullseye of your g-spot and you’re already falling apart. 

“Wait- wait wait wait m’gonna-” you gasp, your nails running down his broad, milky back in jagged red lines when you’re cumming once more. Toes curling, hips convulsing wildly on top of a smug Satoru. “Oh my god, ngh- what’ve you done to me, Toru?”

“Now, let me ngh- let me tell you a little secret, hah- princess.” His hand comes up to cup your jaw, gifting a sweet kiss on your swollen lips. “The best thing about mates?” Sharp fangs catch onto your delicate skin, “They feel sex on a whole other level.”

And then he’s bringing down both hands to spread apart the globes of your ass. Your puffy folds are stretched to their limits when he thrusts up once. Muscled thighs flexing underneath yours. Harsh. 

Ignoring your pleading keens and the slight resistance at the intrusion of his intimidating size, “Hold on, princess- hold- fuuuuck.” Lips latch onto yours, drinking up every heady whine when your poor cunt is being fed every inch by fucking inch. “You’re taking me so well.”

And that you were - your pussy lips bulging and struggling to accommodate Satoru’s monstrous size, but still taking him in so greedily. 

“There we go.” he grunts out, punctuated with heavy rams of hips. Up, up, up until you could feel Satoru’s sobbing tip graze against your cervix - your lungs. “Theeere we fuckin’-” Pushing and pushing until there was no more, until your neglected clit was scratching against his snowy pubic hair. Ass coming to rest at his twitching balls. “-go.”

“You’re in so deep-” you’re blabbering, cockdrunk already. The last few dredges of your high still not wearing off, it takes you a few seconds of Satoru still trying to squeeze his cock even deeper to manage to raise a hand about midway up your stomach. Feeling for that vertical bulge that was him, “-can feel you right here.”

“Oh yeah?”

And like he was testing your theory, Satoru fucks up into your gummy hole in another bullying slam. Watching in wonder at the way that little divot in your stomach crashes around the same spongy cervix he was. 

“Fuck- you’re right.” he hisses. Addicted now. Immediately rocking into you with reeling, long rolls of his hips. “You’re so- fuckin’ right.”

You can’t find the energy in yourself to even yelp in surprise when Satoru immediately changes your positions so that you’re now laying fucked-out on the mattress. His domineering hips pinning you down to use you like some little cocksleeve. 

“God-” he pants into your open mouth, tongue swirling with your weighty one. “God- fuck fuck fuck if heaven is real then this is it.” Each little profanity is decorated with a smoldering crash of his tip into your sweet spot. “You’re the heaven I don’t ngh- deserve, flower.”

That neat bitemark on your thigh is being jostled with the amount of ragged movement, and you wince with pain when it starts flowing again. 

“Oh- oh.” 

Satoru’s like a predator that has cornered his prey, and is spending hours tediously unraveling every single bit of you. 

Sliding two smooth palms underneath your legs, they’re urgently thrown over his large shoulders to fold you down, down, down into the meanest mating press you think you could handle - handle without fucking breaking, that is. 

“So good t’me.” he breathes, long tongue easily licking up that sweet nectar of your blood. “Y’know your cute lil’ brain s’too scrambled to even read right now.”

“H-how can I think when you’re ah! Like- like this, Toru?”

The sudden change in angle makes you scream. It makes you clamor for the headboard, the sheets, your husband when that obscenely perfect upwards curve of his dick is massaging every nook and cranny of your cunt. 

“Yeah? Feels good? Now now- don’t run- away” he’s dragging you down those drenched sheets by the legs like some ragdoll, stuffing you more and more with his painful cock. Fucking you so relentless, like he was trying to worship every little hidden sweet spot inside your dripping cunt. “Say it- no no no, not in your head. Say it.”

And you do - a little over fifteen times when his thick hilt pecks your pussy lips over and over with each thrust when Satoru bottoms out, hitting all the way into the back of your cunt - your cervix, your g-spot - like he couldn’t decide which one to bruise more. 

“S’too good-” you’re gasping. Your overstimulated pussy being molded like clay to the girthy shaft kissing down your cunt. Stretching out your elastic walls until you could almost feel them take shape to his swollen cock. Feel every sensitive spot inside you being overstimulated at once with every burning massage against them. “You’re fuckin’ me way too- too good- ngh- can’t even think.”

But that wasn’t enough for him.

Dipping a thumb down to circle around your clit, white-hot pleasure shoots up your spine when he lets out a deep rumble, “Think I fell in love with you when I- fuck, right then and there when I first- hah saw you all those years back.” speeding up with the sloppy staccato of his rude cock. Satoru’s words slurring now, messed up and half-prepared like the accelerating half-thrusts being bestowed upon your ravaged cunt. Like he couldn’t bear to pull out completely. “The first time you saw me, you were so afraid. Look at you- fuck, jus’ look at you now, princess.”

Each word is like a brand onto your sticky skin, accompanied by harsh smacks of Satoru’s balls against your ass, his sharp hip bones digging into your thighs. Him.

“Toru–” is all you can manage to whine out, a limp hand pulling his face closer to yours. You’re jumping with each swipe at your poor clit. “Toru m’here.”

“And- and yet-” he’s still blabbering, still pussydrunk while he fucks you so menacingly. Fingers sopping wet with their assault on your sensitive nub, “And yet I just- fuck-” He cuts himself off to give your messy hole another thick stream of spit. Coating his long, raw shaft - rubbed red with the way your gripping walls were massaging him so right - making it easier to slide in and out. “And yet, I just had to see you, to see the gorgeous mate I don’t deserve. I couldn’t live without you.”

A single overstimulated tear glistens a track down Satoru’s pretty face - one you kiss away as quickly as it appeared. Nudging open those teary, blue gaze to bore down on you. 

Oh, he looked an absolute wreck - white hair mussed up, stray strands sticking to his forehead. Glossy lips parted, drool pooling at the corner, broken grunts leaving him with each smash of his tip back into your cunt. So blissed out. 

Jolting at your eyes on him, Satoru feels his balls tighten so painfully. Abs burning when his pace stutters with need. 

“You’re haunting me, just as much as I was haunting you, Toru.”

The candles go out. Instantly. 

And shit you’re feeling it first when when hé’s cumming and cumming so hard that it almost hurts. Flashes of white startling behind his closed, glassy eyes. “Shit- shit shit shit shit-” Hairs on your body raising as Satoru’s fingers draw circles on your clit so aggressively. Dragging out your high. Forcing it. “Take it- take it all, my flower. Let me paint this pretty pussy all white.” Violent, almost.

So, really, it makes sense that your third orgasm of the night was the same. 

Just shivering, sinful tingles running from your overstimulated mind right down to where Satoru was stuffing thick white ropes of potent seed deeper and deeper down your tight channel. 

Overspilling with each calculated ram, his cum is oozing out of the corners of your puffy lips with each furious clench of his balls. Too much. 

And it’s all you can do to sit there and take it, feeling the sloppy dredges of cum make a mess slobbering down your thighs and his. Starting up blearily at the blurry paintings on the ceilings. The paintings of you - of a still Satoru that looked down at you with only half as much intensity and pure swirling emotion as he was right now.

Something that couldn’t be painted - but would make such a pretty picture, when his fangs bite into that racing junction at your neck.

You scream a soundless scream of his name, eyes rolling to the back of your head as something warm fills your entire body. 

Leaving your words unheard, your ravaged hole loose to let out slobbering squelches of Satoru’s cum. Blood racing and flowing right into Satoru’s greedy mouth. 

“Princess-” he gulps. Tongue licking up every crimson bead his crazed eyes could spot, body aching when he dares pull away from that heavenly taste. More. “Princess princess princess- you- hngh you’re mine. All mine now.”

And he’s letting out more thick globs of cum straight into your waiting cunt. Body bowing even harder to let it seep into your elastic walls, your womb. So much more than you can take and he just keeps giving. 

It seems like forever when Satoru finally pulls away - and within the glowing blue of his eyes, you can see the red staining his lips, dripping down those fangs, his chin. Staining the silk sheets below - staining you with so much more. 

Before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching up to catch his lips in a bloodied kiss. Your own elongated canines catching amateurishly on his lips. 

Satoru hisses - but he likes it. And you can tell. 

You can read every single hypnotizing thought whirling behind those crystal blue eyes - how he wants to ravish you again, how he wants to worship you. To make you his all over, to have you make him yours. The thought makes you smile as you whisper, “I’m onto you, Toru.”

“You’re onto me, flower.” Catching your lips in a sweet, sweet red kiss. “Forever.”

A/N. This was SOOO fun to write omg y’all have no idea. If you made it this far then you get a sloppy smooch from me mwahhhh.

Plagiarism of work not authorized.

[ninikrumbs]

fluff with boyfriend suguru. thats it.

boyfriendsuguru who had to come up with some lame ass reason to excuse himself when you started telling him that you were going home to your parents for Christmas.

boyfriendsuguru who's first thought was how he was going to make a good first impression to his future in laws which catches him off guard.

boyfriendsuguru who internally freaks out the moment he realized how down bad he is for you. Not expecting for his feelings to run so deep even though he shouldn't be surprise considering this was you he was talking about. A smile from you makes his weak heart stutter.

boyfriendsuguru who makes you tilt your head in confusion when he abruptly excuses himself and disappears for the rest of the day. Was it something you said? Did he not want you to spend Christmas with your family?

boyfriendsuguru who peppers soft kisses all over your sleeping face when he comes back home late from a debriefing session with Gojo. His head was now clear and resolute as he wraps his arms around your soft pliant body the melts into him once you realized it was him.

boyfriendsuguru who apologizes for disappearing so suddenly. Who doesn't beat around the bush and tells you that he wants to go spend christmas with you and your family.

"Sugu, as much as I would love nothing more." You run a reassuring hand through his silky raven hair, "I was in not in any way pressuring you to come with me. I was just informing you."

He leaned into your touch, turning his face to kiss your palm once. twice. "I know you weren't, pretty."

Smiling in relief, you tucked your head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his comforting scent. Your breath tickles his neck making him let out a light laugh while he presses a kiss on your hairline.

His dulcet voice held a certain tenderness as he spoke, something he only ever does with you, "But I wanna go with you. I want your parents too meet their future son-in-law."

The last word surprise you, you pull back with mirthe dancing in your eyes, "Their future son-in-law, huh?"

A chuckle escapes his lips at your expression, "Well I don't have any plans to give the position to anyone else any time soon."

You blink and a giggle breaks out of you. "Good to know, Suguu."

His soft gaze then rakes over your face with so much unbridled affection that it makes you blush. His next words didn't help either, "This is it for me, princess. You're it for me." He murmurs, bringing your palm to his lips once more.

Then he pulls you closer, practically tucking you into his body, your shared warmth makes him sigh in contentment, "There's no getting rid of me anymore, you're stuck with me forever."

You smile against his chest, "Sounds perfect."

AN: just realized it was missing a paragraph 😭 edited 01.12.25

[greengoblinswifey]

Reunited— Luigi Mangione x Fem!Reader

summary— You’re reunited with your boyfriend luigi and he shows you just how much he missed you.

warnings— fingering, slight voyeurism, oral(f!receiving) praise kink, bit of crying but luigi comforts you, L bombs, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, aftercare, fluff.

a/n— originally posted on my ao3, where there’s another luigi fic <3 FREE MY MF MAN!

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Luigi Mangione was not just another face in the crowd, he was a polarizing figure. He gained national attention after allegedly carrying out a calculated act of vengeance against a corrupt CEO you couldn’t care less about. He claimed his actions were a response to widespread exploitation and inequality in the healthcare system and you were 100% on board.

After leaving behind a manifesto that exposed systemic greed and corruption, he disappeared, sparking an instant nationwide search. Supporters hailed him as a modern day vigilante, while detractors condemned him as a criminal. You were by his side through it all, not only as his girlfriend but as his confidant and staunchest ally.

You had met Luigi three years ago at a charity gala. While his presence was understated, his charisma was undeniable. You had a passion for uncovering the truth and you were drawn to his fiery intellect and his conviction to make a difference. When he confided in you about his disillusionment with the corporate world and his dream to spark real change, you stood by him, even as the risks escalated.

When the authorities finally caught him, it shattered your world. Luigi was supposed to be halfway across the country by then, safe and untouchable. But fate had other plans.

After days of navigating legal hurdles, your boyfriend was granted bail thanks to the efforts of the legal team you assembled and the donations pouring in from his legion of supporters. The day you picked him up from jail was a whirlwind of emotions. Crowds of people gathered outside the facility, holding signs and chanting his name. The media swarmed like vultures, cameras flashing as Luigi emerged, his posture unyielding despite the chaos.

The car was parked a block away, avoiding the thick of the chaos. As he stepped out, the crowd screamed. He lifted his hand in acknowledgment, his voice cutting through the noise.

“Read the manifesto,” he said, his tone commanding yet calm. “The answers you seek are in there.”

The crowd erupted, some cheering, others debating. But Luigi didn’t linger. He moved toward you, his gaze softening the moment he saw you waiting.

The lawyer drove the two of you to a safe house on the outskirts of the city. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the faint bruising along his jawline.

“Baby, did they hurt you?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He exhaled, brushing your concern aside. “Nothing I couldn’t handle. I’m just angry they didn’t let me speak.”

You reached for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. “They’ll hear you soon enough. You’ve already started something they can’t ignore.”

His eyes softened as he turned to you. “I missed you,” he murmured, his hand finding your thigh. “Every damn second I was in that shithole.”

You smiled, leaning closer. “You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

He kissed you deeply, his hand tightening its grip. “You’ve been my anchor through all of this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The car ride felt impossibly long as the reality of the situation weighed down on you. You kept glancing at Luigi, his sharp profile shown by the fleeting city lights. Despite the calm mask he wore, you could see the exhaustion in his eyes.

You reached over, your fingers brushing his arm. “I was so scared for you,” you whispered, your voice breaking. Tears began to spill before you could stop them.

Luigi turned to you immediately, his expression softening. “Don’t cry, amore. I’m here now,” he murmured, pulling you closer. He pressed a series of tender kisses to your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs.

“It’s just so unfair,” you choked out. “The media, the critics—they don’t know you like I do. You’re not some monster. You’re brave, kind, and caring. You only wanted to help people.”

He cupped your face, his gaze locking with yours. “Let them say what they want. I don’t need their approval. I have you, and that’s all I care about.”

You leaned into him, his words wrapping around your heart like a balm. “I just don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t,” he promised, his voice low and steady. “No one can keep me from you.”

As the car drove deeper into the night, Luigi’s hand found its way to your thigh, his touch warm against your skin. He glanced down at your dress, his lips curving into a sly smile.

“You look so sexy in this,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper. “Did you wear it for me?”

“Yes,” you admitted, heat rushing to your face.

He chuckled softly, his fingers tracing circles on your thigh. “Good. Because it’s driving me crazy.”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing against your neck. You shivered as he placed a trail of slow kisses along your skin. “You smell amazing,” he murmured against you.

His hand slid higher, and when his fingers brushed your bare pussy, he froze for a moment before letting out a low, appreciative moan. “You’re not wearing anything underneath?” he asked.

You shook your head, your breath hitching.

“Naughty girl,” he whispered, his voice laced with both amusement and desire. His fingers trailed to your clit, the heat of his touch making you bite your lip to keep from making a sound.

“Luigi,” you whispered, your voice trembling with both anticipation and the need for discretion.

“Shh, amore,” he said, his lips still pressed to your neck. “Be good for me. Stay quiet.”

His fingers moved with purpose, his slow circles on your clit sending your nerves into a frenzy. “You’re so perfect,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “I missed this, missed you.”

The car hit a bump, jolting you both, and you bit back a gasp as he slipped a finger into you immediately, your hand gripping his arm tightly.

Up front, the lawyer cleared his throat, oblivious. “Almost there,” he said.

Luigi smirked, his fingers still working their magic. “Good. But not soon enough,” he whispered, his lips brushing your ear as he praised you softly.

His touch became more deliberate, his fingers moving in a way that left you struggling to suppress your reactions. His gaze flicked up to yours, a teasing smirk playing on his lips.

“You’re doing so well for me, amore,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “I can feel how much you missed me from how wet you are.”

Your breath hitched as he praised you, his movements precise and slow, building that feeling inside. He kissed the side of your neck again, murmuring against your skin, “I love seeing you like this, knowing I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.”

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, biting to suppress your moans as his fingers curled inside you with his thumb rubbing your clit.

“I can’t—” you breathed, biting your lip to quiet yourself as your orgasm built.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he whispered, speeding up his movements.

You bit onto his shoulder, using your other hand to pull him onto you as your orgasm ripped through you like a knife. You really hoped the seats weren’t messy.

The car slowed as it neared the safe house, and Luigi reluctantly withdrew his hand, his eyes dark with unspoken promises. “Just wait til’ we’re inside,” he said softly, his fingers brushing your chin as he gave you a quick, knowing smile.

His lawyer parked the car in front of the nondescript safe house, stepping out to hold the door for both of you. Luigi exited first, straightening his suit jacket before reaching for your hand. “Thank you,” he said curtly to the lawyer, who nodded and drove off into the night.

The moment you were inside, Luigi shut the door, locking it and turned to you, his expression filled with an intensity that took your breath away.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” he said, his voice rough as he pulled you close. His hands framed your face as he kissed you deeply, his body pressing you back against the nearest wall.

“Lui—,” you whispered, your hands tangling in his hair as his lips moved to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that made your knees weak.

“You’re mine,” he said firmly, his voice filled with both affection and possessiveness.

His hands roamed down your sides, gripping your waist as he pulled you even closer. “I’m going to remind you how much I missed you,” he said, his voice a mix of promise and passion.

Luigi carried you effortlessly, his strong arms wrapping you in the warmth of safety as he navigated the unfamiliar safe house. He gently kicked open the door to what you assumed was the bedroom, setting you down on the soft mattress. His touch was soft, fingers lingering on your shoulders as he slid your straps off, his eyes scanning every inch of you like he was seeing you for the first time.

“Do you have any idea how much I missed you?” he murmured, his voice filled with longing.

Your response was barely a whisper. “I’ve thought about you every second.”

He tilted your chin upward, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that deepened with every passing moment. As he undid the zipper of your dress, his movements were deliberate yet gentle. The fabric pooled at your feet, and his breath hitched slightly as his gaze took your naked body in.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his tone awestruck. His fingers threaded through your braids, tugging softly as he kissed you again, his lips tracing a path down your jawline and neck.

Your hands instinctively found his curls, tangling in them as he lowered himself to his knees before you. “Baby,” you whispered, the emotion in your voice evident.

“Shh,” he replied softly, his lips brushing your skin. “I need to take care of you first. Tell me how much you missed me.”

“I missed you so much,” you said, voice trembling with emotion. “I love you, Luigi.”

“I love you more than anything. Let me show you just how much,” he replied.

His hands caressed your thighs, his lips trailing kisses down your skin. His touch was reverent, almost as if he were worshiping every inch of you, his deep brown eyes gazing up with adoration.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice soft yet full of conviction. “Every part of you.”

His lips pressed against your pelvis, leaving a trail of warmth and affection that sent a shiver through your body. Each kiss was slow and deliberate, his presence grounding you even as your heartbeat quickened.

“Luigi,” you breathed, your voice trembling with emotion and pleasure. Your hand instinctively reached for his curls, tangling in them as he smiled against your pussy.

“Let me take care of you,” he said. “You’ve been so good for me—so patient, so strong.”

Your head tilted back, overwhelmed by the sensation of his devotion. His praises washed over you like a balm, soothing the ache of the days you’d spent apart.

His tongue moved with precision, licking your clit as he used his fingers to spread your juices across your hole. A gasp left your lips as he moved down, slipping his tongue inside your pussy then continuing his movements on your clit.

“You’re everything to me,” he continued, his hands gently gripping your hips as he sucked your clit. “I don’t deserve how good you’ve been throughout this, but I’ll spend my life proving how much I love you.”

His voice alone sent a rush of warmth through you, every syllable filled with sincerity. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice breaking slightly as your emotions surged.

Luigi’s lips curved into a small smile. “You’re too good to me, but I’ll never take it for granted.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell. Every touch, every flick of his tongue was a promise that he would always cherish you, protect you.

He didn’t rush a single movement, cherishing the connection between you. You cried out as you gripped his curls tighter, your orgasm threatening to spill over.

“God baby, I can feel you clamping around my tongue, it’s okay, you can cum for me,” he urged.

With his name on your lips like a prayer, you trembled as you squirted on his tongue. He slurped your juices, guiding you through your high and savoring your taste.

When he finally finished and stood up, his arms pulled you close, cradling you as if shielding you from the world. “You’re my everything,” he whispered. “I’ll never let anything happen to us. I promise you that.”

Your hand rested on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “I believe you,” you said softly.

He smiled, brushing a strand of your braids from your face. “Good.”

Luigi’s chuckled as you gently ran your fingers along his chest, stripping him off his clothes then pushing him to sit on the edge of the bed. His dark eyes glimmered with warmth, his hands lightly brushing against your waist.

“You’ve done so much for me,” you murmured, leaning closer, your voice low but full of intent. “Now it’s my turn to show you how much I’ve missed you.”

His gaze softened, his hands sliding to your wrists as if to stop you. “You don’t have to do anything, amore,” he said, his voice tender. “Just having you here, holding you, it’s enough.”

You pouted but decided not to be a brat this once. “Whatever you say baby, anything you want.”

Luigi sat back, his strong arms pulling you onto him as if he couldn’t bear even a second without your closeness. He settled you against his chest, your bodies perfectly aligned, his heart beating steadily beneath your ear. “So obedient,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple before moving to your forehead for a lingering kiss.

He tilted your chin up gently, his dark eyes locking with yours. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. “I need to hear you say it.”

You nodded, your breath catching. “I’ve been craving this—craving you—this whole time,” you whispered, your words trembling with sincerity.

That was all the encouragement he needed. His lips met yours in a deep kiss, one that spoke of everything unspoken, the longing, the love, the relief of being together again. His hands caressed your ass, grounding you as he shifted beneath you.

He paused, his movements deliberate, as he guided his cock against your pussy. “Slowly, baby,” he murmured, his hands firm but gentle on your hips. “I want you to feel every inch of me.”

A gasp escaped your lips as he sank deep inside you, your body adjusting to the slow, deliberate rhythm he set. “That’s it,” he praised, his voice rough with restrained need. “You’re perfect—so tight, so ready for me.”

Your nails dug lightly into his chest as the intensity built, his words spurring you on. “You can take it, baby,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. “You’re so incredible.”

Luigi's praises, whispered against your skin, grounded you in the moment. “You feel like heaven, amore,” he said, his voice breaking slightly as he kissed you again, swallowing your soft cries.

Luigi’s grip on your hips tightened, as he guided you into a slow, deliberate rhythm. Each thrust was purposeful, his body rising to meet yours. “That’s it, princess,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your jawline. “You’re so perfect. I’ve missed you more than you can imagine.”

You clung to him, your fingers tangling in his curls as he set a steady pace. Every thrust was measured, filling you and making your breath hitch. “You’re taking me so well,” he whispered, his voice breaking with restrained emotion. “I can feel how much you’ve missed me.”

Your head tilted back, exposing your throat as his lips pressed against your skin, leaving a trail of kisses that make you shiver. “Luigi,” you gasped, your voice trembling.

“Shh, amore,” he soothed, his hands running up and down your spine as he adjusted the angle slightly, his cock moving inside your wet pussy deliberate and controlled. “Let me take care of you. Just feel me.”

His thrusts deepened, his hips rolling in a way that sent shivers down your spine. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his dark eyes locked on yours, filled with unspoken affection and need. “So perfect for me.”

“Lu— I’m gonna cum,” you cried, your fingers gripping his hair tighter.

“I know baby, do it for me, cum on my cock,” he muttered.

Your body convulsed on top of him, your breath catching in your throat as your orgasm hit you like a truck. He continued thrusting inside you, guiding you through the intensity of the moment.

Without missing a beat, he flipped you so that he was on top of you, his cock still inside you. His soft lips came down onto your tits, swirling his tongue around your nipples as soft whimpers left you. You tried to grip onto him but he pinned your arms above your head, leaving you completely at his mercy.

He thrusted into you deeply, your body jolting upwards as you cried out.

“Oh, fuck, that feels amazing,” you moaned, feeling him continuously brush that sweet spot inside you.

He went faster at your praises, his hips snapping to meet yours. “God, you’re so wet for me, beautiful.”

His large hands gripped your waist, slamming you onto his thick cock. His hand then moved to your lower abdomen, pressing against the outline of his cock moving inside you.

“Feel me baby? Feel how deep I am inside you?” he murmured, pressing on your abdomen and slamming into you.

“S-so deep,” you whimpered.

He reached down to rub your clit, feeling your pussy flutter around him as his pace never faltered.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum baby, I know you are too. I’m gonna cum deep inside you, gonna breed this pretty fucking pussy,” he said.

You wrapped your legs around him, grinding against him. “That’s my good girl, trap me in baby, cum with me while I fuck a baby into you.”

His words sent you over the edge and you moaned his name as you felt his hot load spurt deep inside you. “Take it, take it, take it, beautiful,” he gasped, fucking you as ropes of his cum spurted inside you.

You babbled incoherent words, shivering under him as the intensity of the moment was almost too much.

“Now, when you get pregnant, you’ll always have a piece of me,” he cooed. He stayed buried inside you, relishing in the warmth and wetness of your pussy.

Luigi gently pulled out of you, his hands steady as he helped you shift. His concern for you was immediate, his touch soft as he carefully helped you to your feet. “Let’s take care of you,” he whispered, his voice filled with care. He guided you to the bath, his eyes never leaving you, as if making sure you were okay, every part of you.

He settled behind you in the large, warm tub, the water soothing as he wrapped his arms around you, his chest against your back. You leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body surround you, as he gently massaged the soap across your skin. His hands were steady and comforting, washing away the physical remnants of the day, but it was more than that—he was taking care of you in every way, his touch full of tenderness and love.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck softly. “I promise, I won’t let them take me away again. We’ll fight this, together.”

You closed your eyes, your heart swelling with emotion as you leaned back against him. His hands gently cupped your face, turning you to look at him. “I really hope so,” you whispered, the fear from earlier still lingering, but his presence grounding you. “I’ll always be by your side, Luigi. No matter what happens.”

He smiled, a soft, knowing smile that reached his eyes. “I know,” he whispered, his voice full of reassurance. “And I’ll never let you go.”

As the warm water surrounded you both, the world outside seemed so far away. All that mattered was the two of you, in that moment, connected in a way that nothing could tear apart.

[criminalamnesia]

Traitor part 8

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

here it is everyone :)) took me forever but it’s finally here! now I can disappear in peace lol. I’ll proofread everything later, but I hope this lives up to everyone’s expectations. thank you all for the love you’ve given this series. I hope this gives you some closure.

let me know if you want any drabbles from the series <3

thank you again!

after kyle finally leaves you alone, you slink back against the door, shutting your eyes so tightly stars dot your vision.

it never ends, does it?

apologies. worry. sympathy. pity.

it was in each of their eyes— the one-four-one. each of them trying to mask their pity for you behind sickening sympathy. you were exhausted of that look— not just from them, but from everyone you had walked past or looked at since everything had happened.

you open your eyes, scanning the room. what once had been a haven had become a hell. shattered glass sprinkled the floor near the mirror. clothes were still strewn about. you hadn’t bothered picking up what had been disturbed.

you’d be gone too soon for it to matter.

your phone rings then, the screen lighting up in the dimly lit room. you let the ring tone play for a second longer before you’re moving, reaching for the device on your nightstand.

it’s kate, and you breathe a sigh of relief.

“hello?” you say as you answer the call.

“it’s kate,” comes the woman’s familiar voice through the speaker. “im on my way to base. should be there by tomorrow.”

you startle, eyebrows raising in confusion. “you’re coming here? why?”

you hear her sigh. “we can talk about it tomorrow. I need to meet with john, anyways. two birds, one stone and all that.” she tells you.

“can you at least tell me if the paper work is all set for my transfer?” you ask.

she doesn’t answer for a moment, and then:

“we’ll talk about it tomorrow, sergeant. get some rest. you sound like you need it.”

you hear a click, and then the line goes dead. you furrow your brows as you look down at the phone in your hand.

why on earth would she come all the way here just to talk?

your mind is moving a mile a minute, and suddenly, it clicks.

laswell is coming here to do damage control.

you huff a mirthless laugh, dropping your phone as your hands come up to run through your hair.

you weren’t being reassigned. you were being discharged.

but was it at her insistence, or someone else’s?

you whip around, wrenching open the door and storming down the hall to price’s office. those you pass in the hallway give you bewildered stares, and suddenly you’re aware that you’re still in that damned robe, but you’re on a mission.

and when you start something, you see it through.

you don’t bother knocking as you reach price’s door. instead, you barge into the office, effectively interrupting an argument between price and simon. their voices die off, heads turning to appraise who had barged in.

price’s eyes widen at the sight of you, but simon’s face is as unreadable as always. the door clicks shut behind you, and you stalk towards the two men, your fists clenched as you seethe.

“you motherfuckers,” you hurl the words at them, “you fucking knew. you knew.”

“love, what are you talkin’ about?” price questions, his brows furrowed as he turns to you.

“laswell,” you say, and price’s eyes widen. he knows. and now he knows you know.

“whatever she told you—”

“she didn’t tell me shit,” you huff. “I figured it out. why the fuck else would she come here just to talk? she’s playing fucking babysitter, isn’t she?”

price doesn’t speak. your gaze flits to simon’s.

“I’m sure you were rooting for this outcome, weren’t you? couldn’t finish me off in that fucking room, but hey, this is just as good, isn’t it? sending me back to fucking nothing.”

“this job is my life,” you turn your attention back to the captain. “and you fuckers just can’t stop ruining it, can you?” your voice is raising, and tears prick the corners of your eyes. you’re becoming hysteric.

“all because of a fucking lie!” you’re yelling now, jabbing a finger into the chest of your former captain.

“calm down,” the sound of simon’s rough baritone leads your head to snap toward him. your eyes are wide, fury and terror blazing in them.

and he expects you to let loose. scream and hit and scream some more. but you don’t.

you stand there and you stare at him with those wide eyes. the rest of the room— hell, the world falls away— and it’s just him and you.

like it was on patrol during countless nights, your bare fingers dancing over his gloved hands as you prattled on about a show you liked.

on countless nights curled up in his bed, your back to him, pressed so close he could feel the beat of your heart in his own chest. his arms wrapped around you, one of your fingers lazily tracing the ink on his forearm. no words spoken, yet so much said.

in the field, when you and johnny bicker over comms and he takes your side. when you take a bullet to the shoulder and he holds pressure on it until evac arrives.

when he makes eye contact with you as you pin kyle to the training mat, finally able to overcome his strength. when price tells him you’re the rat and he doesn’t want to believe it.

it’s just him and you. a lieutenant and his sergeant. but it’s more than that.

it’s a deep understanding of this job being your life. of losing everything and everyone you hold dear. of finding family again in this team, and doing whatever it takes to keep that family safe.

and he fully realizes, then, what you have been condemned to.

what they condemned you to.

what he condemned you to.

he breaks from his thoughts as you slam your fist into his jaw.

price’s eyes widen, his feet carrying him forward to intervene, but simon waves him off as he cradles a hand to his jaw.

“let ‘em,” he grunts out, and price looks bewildered, but he nods. he takes a step back, his hands falling to his sides, and he lets you strike again.

“fuck you,” you seethe, and despite your best efforts, your voice cracks. emotion seeps in, and your eyes are wet as you swipe a leg out from under him, forcing him to his knees.

he falls with no grace, knees hitting the concrete floor with a dull thud. you’d cringe if this were any other circumstance.

instead, you deliver another blow, cracking his nose with the force of it. blood sprays out and wets your robe.

“ghost—” price begins from somewhere off to the side, but simon just shakes his head.

“fuck you, simon! fuck you!” you scream at him, and your fists are flying blindly as tears cloud your eyes.

and he just takes the hits. you subconsciously register the sound of the office door squeaking as it opens and quickly closes. price didn’t want to be a bystander any longer, it seems.

but he still didn’t jump in. was it because of ghost’s insistence? or because your captain didn’t want to watch one of his soldiers finally snap?

you finally stop yourself when blood drips from your knuckles. unsurprisingly, they’ve split again. there’s no doubt in your mind that there will be little scars between each of them once they’ve healed.

more to add to the reminder of everything. god, at this point you knew you’d never forget it even if you wanted to. even if you tried to. even if you did for a brief moment, those little white lines— discolored and jagged skin in the place of what should be smooth and unmarred, would be your reminder.

blood pools on the floor, a mix of yours and simon’s. you pay it no mind as you wipe the backs of your hands on your completely ruined robe. good— now you had a great excuse to throw the damned thing away.

you would’ve thrown it away anyways.

you bring your hands to your eyes, wiping away tears that had freed themselves their cage. you see simon clearly then, his face bloodied and yet still beautiful in that way of his. his nose is obviously broken. lacerations above his eye and on his cheekbones.

his eyes are staring back you, the icy blue of them never more intense than now.

you heave in your breaths as you look at him. his split lip cracks further as he opens his mouth.

“done?”

and you don’t have anything left to give, so you nod. then you slump to your knees, down onto his level, and you don’t look away from what you’ve done.

it’s no different than what you did to the doctor, or to countless enemies in the field. but, at the same time, it is different.

because it’s him, and he let you do this. he could have easily stopped you. he’d shown his strength against you numerous times on the sparring mat, picking you up and tossing you around with ease.

and yet he didn’t stop you.

“why?” you ask him, and it’s a loaded question. your voice is a watery tremble, and the word comes out as a whisper, but he doesn’t shy away.

he shrugs. “you needed it.”

he’s focusing on one aspect of the question— on why he let you hit him. you open your mouth to respond, but he surprises you by speaking again.

“least I could do,” he says.

you close your mouth, your chapped lips pressed into a thin line. why is he doing this now? saying this now? what changed?

“is it your fault, then? that I’m being discharged?” you find yourself asking, and you’re not sure if you want to know the answer.

maybe you just want a reason to hate him more.

“no,” he says, and you know he means it.

he never lied to you, regardless of any pain it may have saved. it was one of the things you had loved about him.

he sighs. “I didn’t want you to go.”

that surprises you. simon was never one to freely speak on his feelings. he had opened up to you during your relationship, but it was as if there was always an invisible line he could never cross. never did he utter the complete truth to his thoughts or feelings. and you had accepted that— because that is who he was.

and you would take him with all his walls if it just meant that you could have him.

“I don’t want you to.” he corrects himself.

the room falls silent around you. the part of you that still holds love for him yearns for his embrace at this moment. but you push that side of you down. you will not go crawling back, not after what happened.

“you’ve been an asshole,” you say, and he gives a curt nod.

“probably.” he concedes. “but I wouldn’ take anythin’ back. I told you, I meant what I said.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” you ask. god, he has a horrible way with words.

“no,” he tells you. “nothin’ I can say can do that.”

you snort. you fall back on you haunches, your hands in your lap as you look at him.

“I am never going to forgive you,” you tell him, words full of so much hurt.

he nods again. “I know. I don’ blame you. don’ expect you to, neither.”

“but I’m…” he starts, and his lips crease in a frown. “im sorry.”

you just look at him. perhaps you had wanted an apology at one moment in time, but now? now none of it mattered.

“I hope so,” you tell him. you move to stand, and he remains still. he hasn’t moved an inch since you’d finished your assault.

“I hope you feel this way for the rest of your lonely life. I hope that you never forget what you did to me, and I hope that it keeps you up at night. because I can tell you with certainty that I will never forget. and I hope the others remember, too. I hope it tears you all apart from the inside. that it follows you around for the rest of your career.”

you breathe in, then out. “and I hope no one ever gives you the chances I did,” your voice is soft. “because I would never wish what you did to me on the next person you think you love.”

his face conveys no emotion other than the small frown still on his lips. his eyes, so cold, have softened the tiniest bit. you used to love when you could bring out that softness inside of him. when it was just the two of you, your hand in his, his eyes on you.

those memories would suffocate you if you let them. what could’ve been will suffocate you. you refuse to let it.

you turn and stalk towards the door, not bothering to spare him another glance. you open it, stepping out into the hallway, coming face-to-face with the rest of the one-four-one.

their eyes are all wide as they take you in. your bloodied hands and robe. the dried tear streaks on your cheeks. you pull the door shut behind you before you speak.

“i don’t care to speak to kate,” you say to price, your eyes meeting his. “fuck her for not giving me a chance. and fuck you for laying down like a damn dog and not fighting for your fucking team.”

you turn to johnny next. “you shove your sorries up your ass, mactavish. I don’t want your sympathy, and I don’t want your pity. I hope your regret eats you alive.”

finally, kyle. “and you,” you glare at him. “if anyone other than simon should’ve defended me, it should’ve been you. I met you first, kyle. you were my closest friend, my brother. and you turned out to be just another fucking lap dog.”

you shake your head, blinking away hot tears. “I want you to get me temporary housing and a car because that’s the least you owe me, after ruining my life. and I don’t want to hear from any of you ever again. if I do, I guarantee you I will not show you the mercy you think you showed me when you had me tied up in that chair.”

none of them spoke, and you didn’t give them a chance to as you pushed past them, heading back toward your room to change.

a yellow cab retrieves you from base the next morning before kate arrives. it’s still dark outside when you leave the shelter that had once been home. rain pours down around you, a raging storm hanging overhead as it had all night prior. perhaps it was a reflection of your mood. you liked to think that it was.

you toss your duffle bag into the trunk, shutting it before climbing into the back seat. you hadn’t bothered to pack anything other than a few pairs of clothes you’d recovered from the floor of your room. everything else could be trashed, especially anything the boys had given you.

the driver doesn’t speak— price had given him all the information he needed— and paid him— before he’d fetched you. it seems your final outburst— and beating simon to a pulp— had finally put some urgency in his movements.

none of them had seen you off, per your request. you thought it was the least they could do for you after continuously disrespecting your boundaries.

(unbeknownst to you, simon had watched you leave through a window.)

the driver turned up the music— some pop song you didn’t know the name of— and you slumped in your seat, your head turned toward the window as you watched the rain race down it.

you found yourself drifting off quickly, and you didn’t try to fight it. you’re finally free of that place and the men you thought were your family. free of the anxiety of seeing them around every corner. free of the hate that sparked in your heart every time you heard their voices.

you sleep, and for the first time since before everything, it’s peaceful.

you wake to the taxi driver talking to you.

“we’re here,” he says, knocking on the glass separating the front and back seats. “can you get out now? I gotta get home. it’s my wife’s birthday.”

you blink the sleep from your eyes, nodding before you even register what he’s saying. “sorry,” you mumble as you fumble with the seat belt.

you slip from the car, your boots splashing in a muddy puddle. you grimace as the murky water seeps in, wetting your socks.

you trudge around to the back of the car, opening the trunk and retrieving your bag. you’ve just shut the trunk and stepped back when the car is driving off, kicking up mud that further dirties your boots and jeans.

you pay it little mind as you look at the small cottage before you.

nestled between some trees, it’s beautiful. a shingled roof. light blue paneled siding. a small front porch with a rocking chair and a bench swing. a beautiful dark blue door.

your favorite flowers live in the flower beds surrounding what you can see of the house. it makes you wonder if its a simple coincidence or if simon or price planned it.

how long have they known that you would have to come here? that you would have no where else to go except for where they put you?

you vowed that this house would just be temporary. you would get away from it as soon as possible, putting the rest of the one-four-one behind you. you didn’t want any of them knowing where to find you.

the rain slows to a sad drizzle. drops prick your skin as you make no effort to avoid puddles, splashing carelessly to the front door. you can hear birds beginning to chirp, slipping out of their hiding places as the sun’s rays begin to illuminate the earth once more.

a new beginning, you think.

you reach a hand toward the door knob, twisting it open and pushing inside. it’s a cozy little place with wood floors and a brick fireplace. it’s furnished, but there’s no personality to it. it clearly hasn’t been somebody’s home.

the door clicks shut behind you as you toe off your boots and drop your duffle by the door. as you nudge your boots out of the way with a foot, you notice an envelope on the floor.

eyebrows scrunched in confusion, you lean down and scoop it up. your name is written on the front in a scrawl you don’t recognize.

who else knows you’re here?

perhaps you’ll need to leave sooner than you thought.

you push your thumb under the seam, ripping it open with little finesse. inside is a typed letter. it’s an offer, you realize. a job offer.

its got an american stamp on it, and its signed by a phillip graves.

a new beginning indeed.

[nor-and-family]

🚨A sea of ​​suffering 🚨

In a small corner of Gaza, where the lights dim and darkness descends, I sat alone and thought. She was a mother like any other mother, dreaming of a better future, a safe home, and a job that would provide him and his family with a decent life. But the dream turned into a nightmare, and life turned into a daily struggle for survival.

My family of seven people lived under the weight of siege and war. We lost our homes and watched our dreams disappear before our eyes. Every day was a new challenge, searching for a living amidst the lack of water and electricity, and the fear of bombing that might come at any moment.

“I saw hope in my children’s eyes, but the siege took it away from them little by little.” “They wanted to play in the streets and go to school, but all that surrounded them was destruction and fear.” My dream now is simple: to get my family out of this hell and start a new life in a safe place. But the costs of migration are high, far beyond their means. We were bombed and my children were injured. I was injured in my head and my nose was broken, and now I need a necessary operation to restore it to what it was. It was a very difficult day and my children were asleep.

With the Rafah crossing about to be opened and the occupier allowed to travel soon, I may be able to take my family out. Your support now is very important to get them out. Your previous support helped me maintain my family's life and provide them with the necessities of life and food. I am grateful to all of you. Your support is very important now to get my family to safety. Link here Support link Donate here 🙏

“We need your help”, “We need the opportunity to build a better future for our children

My compigen has been verified by @90-ghost

Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #50 )

@anneemay @sumikatt @khangems @timetravellingkitty

@vampiricvenus @girlinafairytalelovestory @dirhwangdaseul-archived @chilewithcarnage @punkitt-is-here

@sawasawako @jehadism @lonniemachin @halalgirlmeg @commissions4aid-international

@lesbianmaxevans @heydreamchild @opencommunion @heliopixels @theaethernetconnection

@ot3 @mangocheesecake @good-old-gossip @schoolhater98 @dragon-master-kai

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@dragondemoness @divortion @hametsukaishi @anneemay @normal-thoughts-official

@loverboy-ish @imjustheretotrytohelp @palms-upturned @westaysilly @sunflowersmoons

[muniimyg]

♡ 01: maybe it's all in my head

series m.list // taglist

note: hihiii ,, this jk has been rotting my mind for a while now ... time to ruin urs !!! enj the tension ,, (i miss being toxic) lmk what u guys think of their dynamic tho <3 excited to share their little story with u ,, mwaaaa

warnings: oc and jk are mean in this fic !!! pls don't comment being whiney abt it :') !!! oc overhears jk fucking someone ,, jealousy ,, banter

//

“oh. it’s you.”

leaning against the doorframe, jungkook looks at you half disgusted and half disappointed. his arms are crossed with one eyebrow lifted. he blocks your entrance.

“now, now,” you reach over and ruffle his hair. he shifts, dodging your touch. “don’t be so excited. i know your boring life just waits for my presence—oh. i get it. were you expecting someone? usually you’re thrilled to see me.”

jungkook’s expression doesn’t shift, though there’s a faint glint in his eyes. 

“thrilled is reaching, don’t you think?”

“is it?”

“yeah.”

you roll your eyes, brushing past him with a teasing smile. 

“right, so… which are you today? mr. save the dolphins or professor chem?”

jungkook scoffs at you.

“at least my marine conservation interest and organic chem major help the world. what’s your major again? yap-conomics or bitch-ology?”

“help the world?” you almost burst into laughter. “god, you are such a nerd.”

“nerd? i don’t know about you, but some of us care about—”

“yeah, yeah,” you wave him off. “are you waiting for a nobel peace prize or something? holy shit, jungkook. learn to relax a little. you’re so serious. it’s cute, really… but only when you aren’t so anal about it.”

cute?

jungkook feels his chest tighten.

before he can make a comeback, taehyung calls you to the living room.

“___? is that you? stop trying to edge jungkook! get in here! i need your data for our paper!” 

you stick your tongue out at jungkook before turning away and rushing to the living room. your lips curl into a smug grin as you saunter off, leaving jungkook muttering something under his breath. you catch him rolling his eyes just before you disappear around the corner, a small flicker of triumph igniting in your chest.

the living room is warm, filled with the faint hum of taehyung’s lo-fi playlist and the smell of old books—his aesthetic, no doubt. taehyung is sprawled on the couch, laptop open, an arm draped lazily over the cushions. his wide grin grows wider when he sees you. 

“i’m here!”

“finally! come on, genius. enlighten me,” he says, patting the seat next to him.

you plop down beside him, legs folded under you, your laptop balanced precariously on your knees. “genius? are you sucking up to me because you didn’t do your part of the project yet?”

“yup,” he says, shrugging, his head tilted lazily to the side. “if you don’t send me that data tonight, though, i might call you something less flattering.”

you laugh, the sound soft and light, and lean into the cushions, already pulling up the necessary files. 

“your boyfriend’s in a mood.”

“he always is when you’re around,” taehyung teases. “he only answered the door cos he thought it was his student. your face must’ve pissed him off.”

chuckling at his response, you ask another question. 

“where are the guys?”

“they’ll be home soon,” taehyung answers. “said they wanna eat out tonight after jungkook’s tutoring session. you coming with?”

“sure,” you agree. 

then, the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, bouncing ideas back and forth while taehyung clicks through your notes, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic remark or two that makes you nudge him with your elbow.

a few minutes later, you hear an unfamiliar laugh and footsteps approaching.

jungkook strides in, casual and confident as always, but this time a girl is trailing after him. 

she’s pretty. 

the two exchange a few murmured words before jungkook’s eyes flicker briefly in your direction. he raises a hand in a lazy acknowledgment, the girl following suit, and say hi. taehyung nods at them and then they’re gone—slipping upstairs in the blink of an eye. 

the sound of his bedroom door clicking shut echoes faintly.

and then, it rings in your ear. 

you blink, your fingers frozen mid-typing on the keyboard. something gnaws at your chest, sharp and unfamiliar, leaving a bitter taste at the back of your throat. taehyung, oblivious, scrolls through your notes, muttering about formatting errors.

but you… you’re somewhere else entirely. 

what was that?

no name?

no introduction?

did she think you were taehyung's girlfriend or something? that jungkook was all for her?

oh god.

there's a weird twist in your stomach. it feels like a prickle of irritation spreading across your skin like an itch you can’t scratch… you shake your head, trying to brush it off, but the image of jungkook—smirking as usual, leaning casually against the banister, that girl so effortlessly fitting into the space beside him—lingers, stubborn and unshakable…

what the fuck.

it’s not like you and jungkook are close. 

you’re frenemies, at best. 

unsure of when it started exactly—but it’s been happening long enough for it to be routine and well-known in the friendgroup. you two are the kind of people who throw jabs at each other during game nights and compete to see who can make the snarkiest comment without crossing the line. you’re always caught in this stupid cycle of one-upping each other, all for the entertainment of the group. sometimes, more for yourself. life gets boring pretty quickly, and jungkook is your fastest source of entertainment. 

yet, why does it feel like you’ve just lost some unspoken game?

your chest tightens, and you lower your gaze to your laptop, fingers hovering over the keys. you bite the inside of your cheek, a nervous habit you’ve never been able to kick… this icky feeling begins to take over and your mind races with reasons as to why.

maybe it’s because jungkook’s always been so good at getting under your skin. 

maybe it’s because, for all his teasing and relentless bickering, there’s this… comfort in knowing that he’s always there, right across the table, firing back at you like he knows exactly how to push your buttons.

and maybe that’s the problem.

because now, with someone else upstairs, laughing at something he probably said, you’re starting to realize that you might actually care more than you thought.

maybe you care because you’re not the one in his room he’s trying to make laugh.

after a few hours pass, everyone’s stomach beings to grumble. 

for the past 20 minutes, the guys have been begging you to go up and call jungkook down. he hasn’t been answering their texts and all argue that if they go up and knock; he’ll just ignore them. 

… but if you do it…

he’ll answer.

even if it’s just to insult you. 

you glance up at the clock, already mentally calculating the time. you're not really in the mood for another round of back-and-forth with him, but you know they'll just keep pushing you.

"please, please, please, ___!” taehyung cries, pouting. “i really need pad thai. like… so bad. like, i might die. please go get jungkook.”

you hesitate, your eyes flicking to the stairs. 

jungkook hasn’t come out at all. you don’t want to disturb anything and he’s a total grumpy-head when his study time is disrupted… what more if it’s a tutoring lesson? the last time you went up there, it ended with you calling him a dumbass and him tossing a pillow at you.

“i think you guys can go get him this time," you say, turning your attention back to your phone, pretending to scroll through a message.

"oh come on," jimin presses. "you know, at the end of the day… he only really listens to you." his voice drips with exaggeration, but it only makes you roll your eyes.

"yeah, that’s true…" hobi adds with a playful smirk, leaning back into the couch. "you’re like his… little bitch or something."

you shoot them both a look. “you think i’m his bitch?"

“either that or he’s your little bitch.”

you scoff at him. “please do not disgrace bitches by associating them with him.”

“fine, fine,” jin says with a dramatic sigh, raising his hands in mock surrender. “we won’t force you to go up… we’ll bribe you!”

your interest piques as you glance up at him, eyebrow raised. 

“bribe me? how much cash do you have today?”

yoongi and nam joon share a look. then, nam joon leans forward, his eyes twinkling mischievously. 

“milk tea," he offers, his voice low and enticing, like he knows exactly what will catch your attention. "… any boba store you want. any time… for a week, ___.”

you try to fight the grin that starts tugging at your lips. 

fuck it. 

you nod begrudgingly, slipping your phone into your pocket. 

“deal.”

taehyung bursts out laughing. “deal."

with a resigned sigh, you head for the stairs. 

as you climb up, you prepare yourself. 

you prepare yourself for his death glare and the innocent girl in the background. you prepare yourself for his snarky comments and his sweet tone of voice the minute he turns around to talk to her. you prepare yourself to feel sick to your stomach again. 

as you stand in front of his bedroom door and raise your fist to knock—you hear it. 

rather, you hear them. 

the unmistakable sound of his voice, muffled but clear enough that you can make out the low hum of his tone, followed by a girl’s laugh—a breathy, high-pitched laugh that makes your stomach twist.

you freeze, standing in the doorway, caught between disbelief and something you can’t quite name. your heartbeat picks up in your chest, your body tensing as the reality of the situation settles over you.

you’re not sure what exactly it is—maybe it’s the fact that it’s so casual, or maybe it’s the way the sound of it makes you feel like you’re intruding—but you feel a sudden flush creep up your neck and cheeks.

“oh my god, o-oh my g-god! t-that’s it, jungkook! oh god, baby… f-fuck!”

“fuck—you close, baby?”

“so close, baby. so fucking close. g-god, yes, yes, yes! nghh—fuck! so big, jungkook. oh my god, oh my god! fuck me, fuck me… j-just like that, baby. yes, y-yes–o-oh! mhmmmphhh—”

"shit, shit, shit..."

"fuck me harder, jungkook. please! o-oh? oh! oh my god! yes... yes! thank you, baby. thank you, thank you! ahhh... oh my god..."

you swallow, stepping back, retreating to the stairs. 

the guilt of overhearing makes your pulse race in an odd way, like you’ve been caught in something you weren’t supposed to see.

at the bottom of the stairs, you pause, your hand on the banister, unsure whether you should stay or go. 

you quickly decide. 

you’re already feeling the sting of something sharp and unfamiliar in your chest.

“guys,” you say quickly, trying to keep your tone light, but there’s an edge to it you can’t mask. "y-you know what? i think i’ll just head home. i’ve got a ton of work to do.”

they look at you, confused. taehyung blinks a couple of times, jimin frowning. 

“but we—"

"y-yeah,” you breathe. “i… i know. i just… it’s all good. you guys can go ahead without me,” you add, forcing a smile.

“slow down, ___. what—”

“i feel sick,” you confess. “okay? i feel sick.”

“okay… can one of us drive you home or something—”

“no. i’m good. thank you, though… i.. i gotta go.”

they all frown, their confusion morphing into concern, but you’ve already grabbed your things and hurried out the door before they can protest.

the cold night air feels like a slap to your face as you walk away, but it doesn’t quite shake the unsettled feeling in your stomach. 

you can’t stop thinking about it. 

about how you feel.

about what you heard.

about how much you fucking hate jeon jungkook.

it’s almost 10PM by the time you finish showering. your hair is still damp, hanging loosely around your shoulders as you brush it out in front of the mirror. the soft swish of the brush is the only sound in the room, your thoughts still lingering on what happened earlier. the image of Jungkook with that girl, the sound of their voices together, keeps replaying in your mind, and it won’t leave.

you shut your eyes and try to forget. 

taking a breath in—your moment is interrupted by a knock on your door. 

you frown, glancing at the clock before moving to the door, towel still hanging from your shoulders. it’s late, and you weren’t expecting anyone. 

heading towards the door, you wonder who it is.

then, when you open the door, you freeze.

there, standing in the hallway with a takeout bag in hand, is jungkook. his face is unreadable, but his eyes—those eyes—seem to be searching yours for something. you can’t quite figure out what.

you blink, caught off guard by the unexpected visit, and for a moment, neither of you says anything.

“uh…” jungkook clears his throat, breaking the silence, his voice lower than usual. “the guys think i did something to piss you off… so i’m supposed to say sorry for… whatever i did.”

“you didn’t do anything,” you lie. “goodnight.”

just as you’re about to shut the door, he takes a step forward. 

“___,” he says, tone flat and annoyed. “don’t be a bitch. just tell me what i did so i can apologize, go home and tell them what i did wrong, and we can act like nothing happened—”

“okay,” you shrug. “you wore an ugly shirt today. there. say sorry.”

jungkook winces at you. 

“seriously?”

you shrug again. 

“what do you want, jungkook? i have nothing to say to you—”

“i don’t fucking understand where all this attitude is coming from. i didn’t do shit to you today. you know i didn’t… so, can you please use your tiny brain to make something up? something more convincing than hating my fucking shirt.” 

you nod, pretending to care. then, just as you reach for the door to shut it again; jungkook swiftly moves past you. he lets himself in. 

“they’re worried you didn’t eat,” he states. “did you eat?”

you groan at him. “why the fuck do you care?”

“i don’t.”

but his actions say otherwise. 

jungkook then takes off his shoes and heads to your coffee table. he sits himself on the floor and begins to unpack the food. silently, you watch as he does so and can’t help but feel like throwing up. 

“eat,” he commands. 

you glare at him. 

“get out.”

jungkook leans back against your couch. “eat, tell me what i did wrong, then i’ll leave.”

“leave first.”

“eat first.”

“get out.”

“holy shit,” jungkook scoffs. “are you even capable of forming a complex sentence, or is that too much for you? ___, this is called a conversation. you’re supposed to—"

“get out.”

jungkook sighs heavily. 

a silence falls upon you two. 

jungkook has had difficult days with you before.

this is nothing new… but for some reason, right now feels harder than the other days. partly because most days he knows when he’s being an asshole—but today? he has no clue. 

he’s in the dark. 

jungkook clears his throat. 

“i didn’t yell at you today,” he starts. “i didn’t call you names. you called me a nerd but that was it… your face ruined my day but i guess it made the others pretty happy since they were so pissed at me for being the reason why you left… so, hey… how about this? you tell me what i did wrong for the guys. not for me.”

you raise an eyebrow at him. 

his eyes plead. 

then, a moment passes. 

instead of answering him, you pick up your feet and sit on the floor beside him. you look at the door and take the utensils from the bag. poking at the food, you contemplate on telling him what’s going on in your head. 

just as you’re about to eat a spoonful of the food, you suddeny feel jungkook close to you. without saying a word, his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, making you hold your breath. his hand moves to tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear, carefully pushing it out of the way so it doesn’t fall into your food. 

the gesture is so unexpectedly gentle that it catches you off guard, and for a second, you’re just left there, staring at him.

he looks at you sincerely. in his eyes, you can see his defeat. 

you don’t know if it was the gesture or the look in his eyes—but your words slip out of your mouth faster than you can think to stop it. 

“she was too loud.”

he tilts his head at you. 

“oh,” jungkook connects. his expression stiffens for a split second, then he schools it back into calm. “overheard, did you?” he asks, leaning in slightly, voice a low murmur. 

“oh, i definitely heard,” you reply, folding her arms, feigning thoughtfulness. “don’t act so cocky… she sounded like she was faking it.”

he stares, jaw flexing, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something challenging in his eyes. 

“that’s cute coming from someone who couldn’t even stay for dinner.”

suddenly that pang of jealousy again hits again. 

you know you should just brush it off… keep your cool and act nonchalant about it—but something about jungkook just makes you feel so off balance. 

“maybe i had better things to do,” you retort. 

“like what?” 

you shrug. 

“like leave.”

“you should’ve knocked,” jungkook smirks. “i would’ve opened the door. we don’t mind an audience usually.” 

there it is again. 

the sick, sinking, icky feeling. 

“you two fuck often?”

jungkook looks away, taking a moment to think. 

“yeah,” he admits. “what? surprised nerds get laid?”

you stay quiet. 

“i mean.. it’s not really any of your business…" he mutters, though there’s a tension in his voice that doesn’t match his casual shrug. you can tell he's trying to brush it off, but the way his jaw tightens betrays him.

you feel your stomach tighten, the words you threw out lingering in the air between you, each one heavier than the last. you weren’t expecting him to react like this—maybe a joke or a deflecting comment—but not this… 

tension.

"right," you reply, your tone softer than you intended. you glance down at your food, suddenly losing your appetite. the casual air you were hoping for is long gone, replaced by an uncomfortable silence that neither of you seems willing to break.

jungkook shifts uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck before clearing his throat. 

"look, it’s not like that," he adds quickly, but the words sound almost too defensive. "she’s just... i don’t know. it’s nothing serious."

you don’t respond immediately, still caught up in the strange mix of feelings his words stir in you. the way he said it—like it was nothing serious—feels too much like an attempt to distance himself from whatever was going on.

you’re not sure what you wanted from this conversation, but now all you feel is a growing knot in your chest.

"yeah," you mutter, trying to sound indifferent, but the weight of his words hangs in the air, making your throat feel tight. "whatever you say—”

“why do you care anyway?” jungkook’s voice is sharp now, a slight edge creeping into his tone as he looks at you, his expression shifting from defensive to something you can’t quite place.

you’re caught off guard by the question. 

you weren’t prepared for that, weren’t prepared for the way it makes your chest tighten. why do you care? it’s not like you have any right to, right?

you open your mouth, but the words don’t come out. Instead, you just shrug, trying to play it cool, but you can feel your pulse quicken. 

"i don’t. i just—"

"you just what?" he interrupts, his brow furrowing, as though he’s not buying the act. "you’ve never cared before. why start now?"

you clench your fists at your sides, feeling the sting of his words more than you want to admit. There’s a part of you that wants to tell him—tell him how seeing him with her, hearing them laugh together, makes something ugly twist in your stomach. 

but you can’t.

"i don’t know," you finally mutter, your voice quieter than before. “it's weird. like, of course i knew you weren't a virgin but... are you actually that good? then again… doesn’t take much to fake sounds like her.”

jungkook’s eyes flicker to yours, something unreadable passing through them before he exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. then, he smirks. 

it’s more calculated, though… like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

"curious?"

"disgusted, actually."

a beat.

"what, you wanted it to be you?" he asks, his voice smooth, a challenge in his tone.

you almost choke on your breath, but you recover quickly. "me? sleeping with you? please."

he lets out a low laugh, but it’s not playful this time. 

it’s more mocking. 

“yeah, i mean, i don’t even want you that bad…" he takes a slow look at you, like he's mentally assessing you, deciding if you’re worth his time. "not even close."

the words sting more than they should, but you keep your composure. 

you try to look unbothered, but his next words twist the knife a little deeper.

“fuck you.”

"you wish i’d fuck you," he remarks, almost casually, like it's no big deal. "would make things easier, huh?"

your chest tightens, and something about the way he says it makes your blood run cold. It’s not just teasing anymore—it’s a jab.

but you refuse to let him see how much it affects you.

"i’m not interested in you," you shoot back, your voice betraying none of the discomfort you’re feeling. 

he leans in a little, eyes never leaving yours. 

"really?" 

“really.”

his smirk widens, and you can feel the tension crackling in the air. 

“guess what? i think you care more than you're letting on. you act like you don’t give a shit, but it’s so obvious you’re just pissed it’s not you in my bed."

you bite your lip, trying to keep your voice steady, but something betrays you in the way your heart races. 

"i’m not pissed," you mutter, the words coming out too quickly, like you’re trying to convince yourself as much as him. "why would i be?"

jungkook watches you for a moment, taking in every little reaction. 

"i don’t know, ___," he says, his tone low and teasing, like he’s enjoying every second of this. "but it’s cute. you’re all flushed, trying to act like you don’t care, but i can see right through you."

you grit your teeth, wanting to snap back, but instead, you just look away. 

"shut up," you mutter, frustrated with yourself more than anything. "you’re such an asshole sometimes, you know?"

he laughs again, but this time there’s something darker in it, almost like he's reveling in your frustration. 

“i don’t think you’re as immune to me as you pretend to be," he says. "but hey, don’t stress about it, baby. i’m not that interested either. i mean, what’s the fun in fucking you? it’d be harder getting rid of you than getting in your pants.”

you feel the sting of his words hit harder than they should.

“are you done?” you mutter, forcing a nonchalant tone. "and don't call me baby. you called her baby. i don't want to be associated—"

"you think you'd fold as fast as she did?"

jungkook’s eyes flicker with something that could almost be amusement—or maybe something else. he clears his throat.

“shit, ___. i’m sorry—”

“yeah?” 

you don't know why, but something inside you snaps. 

you shift your body close to him. so close that you glance at his lips, then back up to his eyes, as if you’re weighing something—daring him to make a move.

jungkook’s body tenses, his breath shallow, like he's ready to close the distance… to make some sort of move. his lips part slightly as if he's about to speak, but before he can, you push him away. 

now, he’s tongue tied.

“shit, jungkook... i'm sorry," you mock him. "but you're wrong... this is fun."