#and neon is there for him and sharing the pain

[ungewissen]

メメント・モリ | Sakurai Keiwa (Tycoon) x Kurama Neon (Na-Go) | Kamen Rider Geats

a bittersweet playlist for keiwa x neon [spotify]

[yandere-wishes]

⋆｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡Acolyte⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

𐙚Yandere! Qimir/The Master x Reader

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: Your loneliness is suffocating, engulfing. Qimir is the only one who seems to subdue the pain. But every forbidden fruit has its price.

⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, gore, angst (at the end), author having an anxiety attack over this fic  

🪐Note: Why is the longest thing I've ever written for a fandom that barely exists? Anyway, here's the long-awaited Qimir piece!

⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : Disturbia - Rihanna, Dark Vacay & Motion Picture Soundtrack - CAS

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🍓⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Your master's anger is tangible. You harbour it stubbornly on your tongue. Relishing in the frustration. You aren't sure how many times you've cut out your soul to place at a master's feet. Gnawing on perfect lips to keep quiet during another scolding. Your new master's disappointment reverberates through the room. Thick and oozing like an infected wound.

You messed up again.

"We do not injure other padawans during training. We do not lash out and attack, especially when your training partner has fallen. How have you trained for so long without comprehending these basics?"

The rage that boils inside you is not Jedi in nature. It's something else, a bizarre second, something ancient, ghoulish. An all-consuming fire that burns inside your veins. It shouldn't feel so welcoming, so familiar.

You roll your eyes.

"With all due respect master. How is one to win, if they do not strick when given the opportunity? That too should be a basic notion, no?"

You see the anger snake across your master's face. A defeated, disgruntled, glance that you've become a bit too acquainted with. This is the look that all your previous masters give you. And yet none have yet to master its eeriness quite as well as your first master. Master Sol.

Your master sighs, a piercing noise, deflating every ounce of his willpower. You are exhausting to be around, his annoyance is becoming discernible. "Master Sol is coming by the temple to check your...progress. He's requested a few items to take back with him. Please go fetch them from the apothecary."

Progress is a gentle word and Jedi love using gentle words. It's easier to say than the full truth. Sugar-coated things always taste better.

But the sugar refuses to stick to you.

It burns away in your bitterness.

Coruscant is a distant memory, it was never your home to begin with. But the high bustling volume is something that is hard to forget. Here things are quiet, you slip through the bazaar undetected. Small basket clutched tightly. You wonder what's dragging your former master halfway across the galaxy. You wonder if it's really just to see you.

You gaze blankly at the holographic list. A few rare herbs and some medical roots. This planet grows them in abundance, and the local apothecary carries more than its fair share.

The apothecary is an old, disheveled thing. The older Jedi say that its presence is as old as the temple itself. Odd how some things have a will of iron. You gently rap at the worn metal door, waiting for an invitation to enter. The hinges cry as the door opens ever so slightly. You squeeze in, surveying the cluttered den. Careful to avoid the half-empty bottles and neon puddles scattered across the floor.

"Excuse me" your voice holds an urgent annoyance. Where is the pharmacist? What kind of store owner abandons their shop in the midday? You run your fingers across the strange bottles, letting your nails pick at the murky glass. The colors flash, begging to be freed, strange space pinks, and summer oranges all trapped inside square prisons. Baby poisons dying to taste the world, burning it if they must, but experiencing it nonetheless, tasting their own form of freedom. Funny, they almost remind you of yourself.

Trapped and fatal.

"Hello?", the voice behind you is languid, dozy. Mirroring a late afternoon nap. When the man next speaks you notice a lyrical lint "What brings you here little lady?". You turn to see it, the voice, or rather the man harboring the voice. He's loosely robed and shaggy in the way that only the most spirited vagabonds are. He smiles tenderly upon seeing your face, strange red fruit caught between his teeth. "I um...I" you click your tongue anxiously against the roof of your mouth. Feeling around for those pesky words, in the end, you just shove the hologram holder forward, hoping he'll understand.

"Oh, I see, out here doing some chores?" You nod, mind preoccupied with the otherwordly fruit. "what's that?" you ask, schoolgirl curiosity lacing your voice. "What, this?" he asks holding the freckled thing between his fingers, it's only in the mild light that you notice the shimmering gold scattered across its red skin. The stranger laughs, walking closer, he places the hologram base on the black table, clicking it on as he studies the list. "They're called strawberries. They're from the forest planets, not many grow here in the mid-rims." He's nimble as he packs the herbs and roots, fumbling with the straw ties. "care for a bite" he asks, handing you the bitten fruit.

Hesitantly you bite.

Letting the sweetness erupt on your tongue.

"Thank you" you mumble trying not to moan at the foreign taste. The stranger laughs, it's a cheery noise like birds chirping in first bloom tress. "you're a Jedi, aren't you?" he asks stepping around the table, eyebrows furrowed, caught in a dream he doesn't seem to understand. You choke on the rogue static as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded dreaming of nothing. "Here..."

"Wha-" your voice catches in your throat, it's getting harder to breathe.

"Your supplies" He hands you the brown paper bag, motion a little too phlegmatic to be right.

"Oh, right...thanks" You anxiously shove the bag into your basket and scurry out of the shop. Holding your breath.

"Come back soon." the voice chirps behind you.

Your old master arrives by spaceship, a newer, albeit worn model. The landing pad ejects to reveal a small escort.

Master,

Knight,

Padwan,

Apostate,

You stand still watching as they descend. Bits of envy bubble in your throat watching your former master and his band of little heroes. You wish you had their belonging. Forgoing the loneliness to find kinsmanship with your coterie. You swallow down the bitter thoughts as they finally approach you.

Master Sol's smile reaches his eyes. Gentle and wise. The true epidemy of a Jedi in every sense of the word. Funny how he now has two failures under his belt. None of which are capable of scratching his shining repute.

His hands are on your shoulders, bright smile. "My padawan, it's been too long." You try to bow, awkwardly and stiffly. "Mater Sol, I'm grateful you've come to asses my progress". If he hears your doubt he doesn't show it. Instead, he reintroduces you to Yord, Jacki, Osha.

You try to be polite. Gulp down the awkwardness

You imagine the taste of strawberries on your tongue.

Remember their stiff sweetness and prickly tasteless freckles.

You smile. Easier this time.

They'll stay here for some time. Hunting assassins and documenting progress in their free time. Jacki seems more invested in your training than you are, trying to teach you everything she knows. At least she doesn't mind the rough play, the violent strikes, and sloppy prideful defenses. She speaks in pointers and parries. She's the one to drag you along these assassin hunts. Welcoming you...or at least trying to.

But there is something else at play. Darker, broader, Sol and Jecki welcome you into the fray. Yet you still feel your old master's hesitance, he's still wary of you. Worried about your anger, your defiance.

The distance grows, some icy void.

Sol used to tell you fairytales. This was back when you'd been young and bright-eyed. Freshly welcomed into the order and still overflowing with artless hope for a colorful future.

But even back then, he had known there was something wrong with you.

Looking back it was evident.

Every story started and ended the same. Little princess against the big bad world. Holding out until her prince came along. Only problem was the morals never registered right in your little messed-up brain.

Why didn't the princess fall for the dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones? Why didn't she swoon and sigh over someone rousing, compelling? A paradox wrapped in black ember? Why settle for a sun-painted prince, with no complexities, no mysteries to unravel?

You would have married the dragon, or the wolf, or the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

Even back then, it was evident something was wrong.

The temple's roof isn't restricted per se.

It's rather abandoned as opposed to forbidden.

Maybe that's why you find solace here. The abandonment feels familiar, similar. The chipped cement kisses the soles of your feet, you imagine it's something like walking upon the rough terrain of a star.

You breathe in the night air deeply.

Expecting the fragile scents of moonshine and star glitter.

Instead, you choke on heavy mist and blood-drenched air.

The thing standing in front of you isn't human. It can't be human. It's created from the blackness, ebony in all the ways a living thing shouldn't be. For a second you think you're staring at a black hole. No doubt this creature crawled out of one.

What sheer willpower one must need to drag themselves out of endless nothingness?

"Little Jedi should not brave the night alone."

It speaks

"There are far too many monsters roaming in the dark"

Its face never moves, statue in all the ways the figures towering over the entrance aren't. This statue is something else, a lost page to some forgotten epic. Carved from gems born in darkness. Evil and rotten.

"What are you?" your voice susurrate, quivering in this surreal scene. The air is thicker now, overflowing with raw static.

Your fingers itch for your saber. Only when the cold metal kisses your palm do you regain some semblance of reality.

The hiss, the green light.

The figure chuckles.

Its voice bouncing from every direction. Everywhere all at once. When it speaks the air cackles, raining as if it were a frightened child.

"I am something akin to you, another child of the force" His voice comes out distorted, uneven in tone. "I am what's birthed when one learns of the true strength of the force."

Your body moves on its own, feet kicking the ground sprinting faster and faster before the final leap. You aim for the helmet, for the morbid toothy grin permanently etched within steel. In a flash the word stills, floating around you like fluorescent bubbles, the rain tumbles around you, curving and diving for the wet ground. It dares not land on something within his grasp.

You feel the slithering across your body. They start from the ground, summed from the unknown depths. Clinging firmly to your ankles before inching up your knees, your hips, your neck.

long, slipper tendrils curling around your body. The figure watches, bare arm outstretched. You should probably be focused on how the unseen things are inching closer to your mouth. Not on the toned muscles and limber fingers of the monster. Not on how, for a fraction of a heartbeat, his smile appears genuine, caring, aimed straight at you.

Only You

They finally reach your lips, prying your teeth ajar and flooding your mouth. Sinking deeper and deeper into your soul, your mind, you.

The smile grows.

In a blink you're suspended in the space between worlds, dark damning thing cradling your body.

"The dark side once belonged to the Jedi, yet they chose to discard it. Deeming it malignant, ungovernable."

Your weightlessness unnerves you. You're malleable in this void.

"Those few who embraced its calling were dubbed Sith." He says the word with such fervent pride. Devoted to it's weight and all it carries. You try to roll the word off your own tongue only for it to burn the roof of your mouth.

The stranger stalks closer, lethal and lithe.

The void vibrates, the darkness bends to his will.

He reaches down to cup your face. His fingers feel warm, welcoming. You nuzzle into his palm, fighting the urge to kiss each finger and suck on the dark force they emit. "You..." he starts, his voice shakes you to the core. Its horror amplifies with the proximity. You wonder if it'll cut through steel, armor, flesh.

your flesh.

"You aren't like the other temple dwellers. You have potential."

His thumb presses your lower lip, demanding entrancing. You comply, needing to feel something solid.

Something you've been denied your whole life.

"They keep you locked away. Trading you between craven masters. Seeing who can tame you first."

He nicks his thumb on your teeth,

Pressing bone into dentin.

His essence drips into you.

He tastes of power.

Of dark, dreadful things you can not name.

"They do not know how to train you. How to use your power..."

The world crumbles, ebony midnights giving way to reality. You feel yourself fall, plunging through the air like a comet bent on destruction.

"They only break you further"

Your knees collide with the harsh ground. Skin splintering in the aftermath giving way to bruises and bloodmarks.

The ground feels too solid beneath you.

A poly, a ruse.

You all but expect to melt through it. Slipping and falling into the vacuum, into him, once more.

He hovers above. Absolute in his strength. You're beginning to believe that blackholes birth divinity. Eyes shimmering with fanatic fidelity, staring up at the holy creature commanding the storm.

"Teach me..."

You've never begged for anything so terribly in your life.

But you need this.

this power

this control.

him.

Sol never told just how the princess met the villain.

He never said it wasn't love at first fright.

Sol insists that the local apothecary knows the truth behind the Jedi-killer. Definite that the unseemly man can tell you something important. He sends Osha inside to play Mea. To get the man to talk.

You crowd around the communicator urging back giggles. Yord's chin is placed upon your shoulder and Jecki's cheek rests against yours. Their touches come so early. And yet they are utterly alien.

"He will be so pleased." No sooner have the words chime from the corroded speakers that Sol is ushering you all towards the small metal hut.

Yord entwines his fingers with you as he runs.

Jacki wraps around your arm.

You feel at times they are trying to tame you.

Befriend the feral puppy they found in the backyard.

The apothecary's face is utterly stunned. He's stammering over his words fear glistening in his eyes as he stares at Sol. "Please, please don't wipe my memories. Or whatever it is you Jedi do." A rosy blush colors your cheeks, at his terror. It's terribly amusing seeing someone so carless, anxiously list off everything he knows. You almost feel bad for the poor scared man.

There isn't anything important here. But Sol decides that you will all return at midnight. The Jedi-killer will be back. Apparently, Qimir -that's his name, that the strawberry-eating, disheveled pharmacist's name- is holding something of value for her.

There's a tug on your wrist as you go to follow the others. Gentle and firm as he pulls you to his chest. "Come by tonight. I'll have some strawberries waiting for you." why does he feel too genuine? When you turn to look at him, he's painted in his usual sweet carefree smile that tugs at your heart.

He looks so innocent...

Starlight really brings out his eyes. He's laughing with a nervous smile,

School-boy crush on full display. You're licking strawberry juice from your hands as you listen to him talk. Backs pressed against the rusty wall and bodies half sprawled in the dirt. He's telling you about the first time the Hutts made him retrieve a plushie for their son from another solar system.

Qimir's voice feels like rose peddles melting into your skin. Sweet, jejeune, free. You offer him a berry from your pile. Watching tentatively as he submerges the red fruit into his mouth. Missing your fingers by an inch. He's laughing after the fact, head thrown back as if he's about to engulf the stars. You decide to laugh too.  

"Are you really that lonely," he says in a voice that's almost not his own. You're not expecting the invasive question, although you guess he means well. The words still cut deep. Piercing through the laughter, stunning you for a breath too long. "No...I'm a Jedi, we do not-"

"Form personal connection. I know...But you just look so lonely." He shuffles closer, the dirt particles almost look celestial in this light. Your fingers pitch a civil war. Pinching and clawing at each other. "No, yes. I don't really get along with the others." He rolls his eyes, bored and amused in the same breath. "Yeah, no wonder your money." He's picking at another strawberry, letting the crunch fill up the silence. You're beginning to think he just likes having something to chew on. Gulping down the anxiety with something toothsome.

He's a little closer now, fingers gingerly tucking back your hair. His fingerprints reverberate across the shell of your ear. Lips gliding against yours. You swallow as his lips fall across yours, pushing sweet stars past parted lips. He tastes of odd things, whimsy things. Everything you'll never come to understand. Xeno fruits and asteroid fields. His fingers glide up your arms, leaving moondust in their wake. He slowly parts, holding you softly with his soulful dark eyes

"You taste so sweet"

Strawberry, Starberry, You kiss him a little too deeply.

Maybe your new master is right.

Maybe there are other ways of being a Jedi.

The movie playing is doused in shades of rose and lilac. Gentle in all the ways. Everyway. The twi'lek girl is in love with the zabrak boy and their families do not approve. You think you remember Sol telling you a similar tale.  

The makeshift auditorium is cozy. Brown couch housing the three of you and your armada of blankets and popcorn buckets. Jacki's head is in your lap, you're playing with the end of her braid imagining the hair to be the lace of a Love-sick girl's ballgown. Yord's arm traverses the length of your arm, absentminded as he studies the motion picture, poking holes in the lose rose-tainted plot. Your head rests against his broad shoulder taking in his new cologne.

Maybe you really did miss them.

Jacki reaches for the popcorn, offering you some before shoving a handful into her mouth. You think the little symmetry-less kernels would taste better with a strawberry glaze. Qimir flashes across your mind, smiling sweetly as he tilts his head.

You think you're a little too similar to the star on screen.

Pinning after forbidden love,

Forbidden power.

Master Sol is growing acutely aware of your drastic improvements. He's noticed the betterment in your offense, your defense. To the way, you wield your saber, your techniques, and yourself. There is esteem in the way he smiles. In the words of praise, you've longed to hear. But you notice the lingering glances, the undertone of skepticism and worry when he asks about practice. He doesn't need to know of the black-glad creature that trains you in the unholy hours.

He doesn't need to know how beautifully your new master sculpts your rage into lessons. Teaching you how to wrangle the force and control it. How to use it to make the world bow.

These things will remain secret. For you fear Sol and the others will strip them of you. Strip them of the new master you've come to worship.

"Do you think people glow when they fall in love?" Jacki's voice is filled with sleep. Eyes closed as she murmurs remnants of movie memory. "No, I don't believe they do" you answer. "too...bad" There was a yawn there darling and vigorous like the rests of her. She looks so sweet like this, infantile in all the ways she can't be. Little girl dreaming of something impossible. You wonder if Sol's told her the fairytales too. You kiss the crown of her head, your baby sister you think. And big brother Yord, snoring with his head thrown back.

Maybe you should test her theory. rising softly from the couch you make your way to the door. Throwing one final glance at your sleeping siblings. Before going to find Qimir.

His lips ghost over yours, spilling star-clad secrets between each kiss. The apothecary has never been so dark, so secret, so secluded. Qimir's lips glided across your neck biting the flesh and licking the little diamond droplets of blood. Your nails rack across his spine, the wool of his throw-over itching the backs of your hands. "So precious" he mumbles, voice ridden with want, need. it's criminal how desperately he needs to feel you. You writhe under him, "Qimir, kiss." you whine. His lips feel like a lifeline, something keeping you sain. He pushes fireflies and lava pearls inside you, carving you open and enjoying you

He always enjoys you.

It's foggy outside when his tongue clashes against yours. A thick unsettling mist banging against the darkened window. "You're custom-made for me" Qimir mumbles against your lips. "Custome tailored" you boldly correct. "ummm, sure" his hands pinch at your hips, clawing mindlessly and leaving tails to your thighs. But the sensations are growing distant, you hear the heavy hum of saber activation. You psyche cracks

The world is dark,

He alone is absolute.

Your master's mask flashes dangerously across your mind. "Master Sol would be disappointed". You've heard that line a million times. Still, the words cut a little too deep coming from your demiurger. "Gullible" you don't understand, what have you done to earn his rage? He's gone, leaving you in the emptiness, you taste the charcoal from the landscape under your tongue.

Still, you long to call after him.

"Master"

The darkness subsides with the feeling of softness across your muscles. A breeze stirs you from the clutches of slumber. "Good morning" Qimir chirps, soft smile greeting you as you open your eyes. "Qimir, when did I?" he laughs, it's such a pretty sound this early in the morning. Sweet like caramel tea. He kisses your forehead. His quietude is commendable, he tries to calm you with feather-light kisses. You laugh pushing the covers away and still. Frozen.

What's this

The nightgown is lacy and short. It drapes expensively against your skin. Marring it with its tenderness. "Qimir, what's this!" he chuckles, "I couldn't let you sleep in those robes, they looked uncomfortable." You want to argue, to scream, and be angry. But the rage boils down slowly as you notice something dangling around your wrist. A bangle, and an anklet you notice later, black and gold entwined in patterns mirroring lighting stricks. "They're from Korriban, I had some relatives there." oh, why does that planet sound so familiar? "Thanks, but ask me next time before you go playing dress-up doll with my sleeping body" He pouts and can't help but trail a string of mouthy kisses across his neck. Qimir shuffles pulling you onto his lap. Pushing his nose under your chin. His eyes are honey-deo, adoring and scheming. "But you're mine." The possessive ness that flesh across his face is alarming. So is how tightly he grips your waist. It's only in this state of half-undressed that you begin to notice the taut muscles of his arms.

During your most recent lesson, your master gifts you a ripe juicy strawberry. He says it'll focus you, replenish your wither strength. You eat it a little too quickly, forgetting to savor the pink blush within. You believe too ferociously in everything your master says.

He can never be wrong.

You love the way your new master splatters blood across your sleeves. Be it yours or his enemies. He's started taking you out on his kills, having you watch as he hacks and mauls. His enemies must die, no one who doubts such marvels should be granted the privilege of life.

He's only ever spoken in half-riddles.

"Unfortunately legacy is a fickle thing. Tenacious, fervent, yet frail and erratic. No matter how hematological, we all read our bones differently."

The rain falls to your ragged heartbeat. Fast one minute and slow the next. You stick out your tongue desperate for a few drops. Your body is on fire, every muscle pushed to its limit. But the Force is screaming inside you, thumping dangerously between your fingers. You're ready for the next round. Saber ready and only half mesmerized as your master pulls out another blood-red saber. You charge, rage pumping deliciously through your body.

You forget to ask him where he got the berry from.

The next Jedi to die will be Kelnacca. That's why Sol is dragging all of you to the forest planet of Khofar. You think the name is utterly hilarious, the others don't understand the mirth.

Between briefings and Jacki and Yords packing quarrels. You sneak out to say goodbye to Qimir. Scribbling a half eligible not to leave for your master. But the apothecary is deserted upon your arrival, only a taped note on a half-full mortar.

'Gone to get more Strawberries.

Be back soon.'

You wonder if Khofar has strawberries.

Strawberry, Starberry, you're falling between the cracks of so many.

The Sun on Khofar is red, barely breaching the thick canopy. Maybe it's for the best. This scene is not one to remember, but how can you make yourself forget?

Death looms.

Permanent, Eternal

The fighting began in twilight.

The sky has grown two shades darker since.

He had floated in from the high reaches. You'd almost called out to him, 'master', the words die bitterly on your tongue. His saber ignites in the carnage, light growing redder after each kill. The bodies fall haphazardly stirring the quiet night.

Your saber falls onto the woodchip ground. No sound. He has followed you here. Yet it is not you, he seeks. Your master mask is haunting, in the dark the silver mouth glows bright white. Even against a massacre

the smile never relents.

He twirls the red saber with lethal accuracy, red arc severing another life. 'Take the right!' Jacki screams through the force, her eager voice bouncing inside your cranium. 'Don't' you scream but she's already attacked.

Saber sings saber.

Golden light flickers.

Forward. Backward. Lunge. Parry. Flunge.

Just like you practiced. Back in the quiet of the training room. Is it too late to return to the matted ground and wooden swords? Too late for safe comfort?

You won't take it for granted this time you swear.

Your master attacks with vicious zeal, cutting through the light. His black robes bleeding into the night. Jacki, scurries backward, trying to block with every ounce of strength. In one swift move, she spins freeing herself and assaulting his head with the metal of her weapon.

The mask clutters to the ground.

You scream.

He looks every bit the villain here. Blood drenched, water drenched. Smiling like the wolf in a child's picture book. Qimir's face stares back at you, hair matted to his forehead. He's panting, spent. You've never seen him toil. Dreaming him incapable of harm.

Yet he stands above the corpses. Wolf's teeth bared as he slices through the little girl.

It's been years since Master Sol tucked you into bed. Years since he's read you a story and listened to your baseless questions about romances.

You've finally gotten your answer. Painted in a shade of red indistinguishable from black.

Because the villain is too vile to be loved.

You run, catching the limp corpse before it joins the rest, you cradle her close. Tears landing on the orange of her face. There are no strawberry romances here. No sweet forbidden fruits. Just pain, hollow, empty, rotten. "Jacki" your voice muffles into her robes, rain-soaked, tear-soaked.

"Was that its name?" his voice doesn't sound right. No cheerful hellos or drowsy laughs. It's all menacing now, grating and hollow lilt. "Qimir" you wail, sob half caught in your throat. "It can't be you." He shakes his head, smile crooked and maniacal. "I'm afraid so, little one." The force pushed you up, pulling you to him. Qimirs head tilts, his fingers dancing around your throat. Squeezing squeezing squzing. Your glossy eyes take in his unruly appearance. Even now your master looks utterly perfect. Muscles relaxed as he steals your breath. "Master" you whine, your heart shouldn't be hammering like this, leaping through beats like something lovesick.

"(Y/n)" golden light fills the clearing. Yord runs, Prince Charming in every way you should have loved.

Qimir releases you, only to nestle your neck in the crook of his arm. "Don't worry darling. I'm almost done." He blocks the first attack.

Second, third. Yord scrambles to pull you away, missing each time. "Let her go" The urgency in his voice rattles you. He did love you.

Little sister, little princess.

Why is only starting to make sense now?

There's a crack, so loud it echoes across the woods.

"NO"

Yord's body joins the rest.

no no no

"Where were we?" Qimir is every bit the villain.

The dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones.

"You lied to me, you killed them. Why, why would you do this."

"Because the Jedi say I can not exist." Sith, right those things were supposed to be evil. Hailing from Koriiban, the evil Jedi forced to flee. And here you were having so readily given yourself to the enemy.

The blood flows free in the rain. Dozens of bodies drained.

There's a river of blood. You kneel by the holy thing, dipping your cupped hands into the crimson. You drink deeply from the massacre thinking it'll taste sweet. Qimir pulls you in holding your throat as he submerges you.

Baptized in blood

The world flashes red.

It feels so free here. Floating weightless, letting everything be. The rage can not find you in these depths. Free like an adrift astromech. Free to float amongst the stars.

When you emerge again. The world has grown brighter. You see the wide-eyed bodies, even Sol is among the dead, you swear you see disappointment in his lifeless orbs. You gulp, swallowing the euphoric faint. You see your new master before you. Swimming to him carefully, following the gentle tug of the force. Prey meets predator. Qimir chuckles, the water is shallow by the banks. He sits awaiting, on his makeshift throne.

There is no sympathy here you should know better

"You took adorable" Qimir rasps. Hot breath fanning your ear. "Master Qimir" you mumble shifting as he pulls you onto his lap. He laughs this is submission, a breath away from grasping his desire. He cups your cheeks, drifting his hands to your shoulders. Pulling you closer, bodies melting into one.

His kisses still taste like strawberries. Sweet and metallic. All possession and domination. Biting lips and tongue and flesh. Spilling fresh poison with each snip of your neck. He licks the blood from your fingers with feral pleasure. Swirling his tongue around each digit and pulling it further down his hungry mouth. You swallow the darkness from his tongue, letting him snuff out the little embers of light. The stars are burning away bit by bit. He pushes you under again.

Mornings on Khofar are dark, caught in a perpetual twilight. Qimir wraps his robes around you letting the midnight sink into your bones. "The ships a bit off a walk. But we should be there before noon." You paddle after him. Fingers lashing awkwardly at his hand. He turns and offers you that tilted smile once more, mask bouncing in his free hand.

"Master qimir" you confess, it feels so light on your tongue. Like clutching dying white-dwarf-stars behind your teeth. He chuckles, snapping a berry from a nearby bush. His smile sings of triumph, victory, earned in blood. He places the fruit amongst your teeth. You, his little war prize.

"My little acolyte"

ᯓ♡ : @feedmestraycats @moonlovefairy  @wicked0clouds @phoenixes-and-wizards @peridedarling @morax-on-my-mind @magikmaik @lov4gor3 @manchuria @bucksdonkey @embersofimagination @hauntedhedgehogs @peter-laufeyson @papitas-con-sal @f0odie @boredtone @bluechissbrain @yourfilthydevil @n0t-skywalker @xsister-serpent @gabriqllas @zionysuss @i-love-my-babygirls @pagingoswin @jxp1ter @faebirdie @deezhutts565 @thesithdiaries @pagingoswin @hauntingwolf @scentedbanditlampwobbler @uwingdispatch @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl @lunarsvertigo @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku

[marvyu]

MIDNIGHT INK

pairings. jungkook x female reader genre(s). smut,fluff

summary. a faded tattoo marks your heartbreak. desperate for a fresh start, you visit Jungkook, a trusted tattoo artist and secret confidant you secretly love.

warnings. explicit language, sexual themes, past relationships, heartbreak, and emotional healing, swearing, unprotected sex, lots of kissing, oral sex, missionary position, and implied consensual rough sex.

sitting on your bed, you watched your reflection in the mirror, your fingers tracing the outline of the faded tattoo on your lower back. once a symbol of love, it had become a haunting reminder of heartbreak. you needed to rid yourself of it, something to signify a fresh start.

finally, you picked up your phone from the desk and called the one person you trusted implicitly.

"hello?"

"hey, before you leave, can i get a quick one done on my lower back?" you asked hesitantly. "trying to get a cover-up."

"yeah, sure, be here by eleven-thirty, okay?"

"alright, cool, thanks." you stayed silent for a minute, hoping he'd say more, but the call ended abruptly.

glancing at the clock, your eyes widened. it was 11:20. with a groan, you grabbed your keys and rushed out. the tattoo shop was only five minutes from your home, but october's chill and early darkness made the journey feel longer.

despite the recent breakup with your boyfriend, you always found yourself returning to him—jungkook. he was the man you confided in, sharing all your problems, including tales of your toxic relationship. though he listened, sometimes distant, you sensed he disliked hearing about your ex. yet, he was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on; truth be told, he was the reason you frequented the tattoo shop.

upon arrival, the sign's lights flickered at the entrance. taking a deep breath, you pushed the door open. jungkook looked up from his station, his sleeves rolled up, revealing his tattoo-covered arms. his dark, intense gaze swept over you, making your heart flutter.

"hey," he greeted, a slow smile spreading. "ready?"

you nodded, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach. "yeah, thanks for staying late."

"no problem," he replied, his voice low and soothing. he gestured to the tattoo chair. "take a seat. let's see what we're working with."

as you settled into the chair, a mix of nerves and excitement coursed through you. jungkook moved with practised ease, gathering his tools and preparing the area.

"alright, let's take a look," he said calmly, lifting the back of your hoodie. his fingers brushed against your skin, lingering longer than necessary, sending a shiver down your spine.

jungkook's gaze flickered to yours, a hint of desire in his eyes before he focused back on your skin. "15th of… december… 2023," he murmured, staring at your tattoo.

embarrassed, you leaned your head against the seat. "yeah, that's when we started dating."

he hummed in response, studying the faded tattoo. "this will be a great cover-up. do you have a design in mind, or want me to freestyle something?"

"i trust you," you whispered. "just something that represents a new beginning."

jungkook nodded, his expression serious and thoughtful. "got it. i'll sketch something out quickly."

you watched as he worked, his hands moving swiftly and confidently. the room was filled with the soft hum of the neon sign outside and the quiet scratch of his pencil on paper. after a few minutes, he held up the sketch for you to see.

"how about this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for approval.

the design was beautiful—delicate yet bold, perfectly capturing what you wanted. "it's perfect," you grinned.

"glad you like it. let's get started," he smiled.

he carefully transferred the design onto your skin, his touch sending another shiver through you. "ready?" he asked, his voice a low murmur that sent heat pooling in your stomach.

you nodded, unable to find your voice. the first touch of the needle was sharp but bearable. the pain quickly faded into the background, overshadowed by the sensation of jungkook's hands on your skin. each touch, each brush of his fingers, felt amplified in the intimate quiet of the shop.

jungkook worked with steady precision, his eyes never leaving your skin. "you're doing great," he murmured, his breath warm against your back. "just a little longer."

you tried to focus on the rhythm of his work, but your mind kept drifting to the closeness of his body and his hands' warmth. the tension between you was palpable, each minute passing in a haze of anticipation and desire. his fingers occasionally brushed against your skin in a way that felt more intentional than accidental, sending waves of heat coursing through you.

as the tattoo session continued, you found yourself mesmerized by the sensation of his touch. the combination of the late hour, the dim lighting, and the intimate nature of the session made every moment feel charged with electricity. you could feel the heat of his body close to yours, the soft brush of his breath on your skin.

"how does it feel?" he asked softly, his voice a soothing balm with a dark, underlying current.

"it's… it's good," you managed to reply, your voice shaking slightly. "thank you, jungkook."

he smiled, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "almost done. just hang in there."

the final strokes of the tattoo machine were almost a relief, though you couldn't deny the pang of disappointment at the thought of his touch ending. when he finally finished, jungkook leaned back to admire his work, his expression of satisfaction mixed with something deeper.

"all done," he said softly. "take a look."

you stood up and walked to the mirror, turning to see the new tattoo on your lower back. it was beautiful, a perfect cover-up that transformed an old regret into something new and meaningful.

"wow," you said, your voice filled with genuine awe. "i love it."

he stepped closer, his gaze intense and dark with unspoken desire. "i'm glad you like it," he said.

for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, standing in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with unspoken feelings and charged with undeniable tension.

"thank you," you whispered, your eyes locking with his.

jungkook's hand brushed against your cheek, and your heart skipped a beat. his touch was gentle yet firm, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath catch. "you're welcome," he murmured, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down your spine. "anytime."

as you stared into each other's eyes, the air between you seemed to crackle with electricity, the line between professional and personal blurring beyond recognition. the tension was almost unbearable, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, craving more.

jungkook's fingers trailed down your cheek to your neck, his touch igniting a fire within you. "you know," he said softly, his lips just inches from yours, "i've always been here for you. and i always will be."

his hand lingered on your neck, his thumb gently brushing your jawline as he stared into your eyes. the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine, and the air between you crackled with unspoken desire. you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat echoing the growing tension in the room.

"you have no idea how long i've wanted this," he whispered, his voice husky and filled with longing.

your breath hitched, and you leaned in closer without thinking, your lips just a breath away from his. the anticipation was almost unbearable, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body, drawing you in.

unable to resist any longer, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss. jungkook responded immediately, his lips soft yet insistent against yours. the kiss deepened slowly, fueled by the weeks of suppressed desire and the intimate setting of the tattoo shop. his hand moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further. the sensation was electric, sending waves of heat coursing through your body.

your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the firm muscles beneath his shirt. the sensation of his heartbeat under your palm matched the frantic pace of your own. every touch, every movement was charged, making your skin tingle with anticipation.

jungkook broke the kiss, his breath ragged as he trailed kisses down your neck. "god, i've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your skin, his hands roaming over your back, tracing the newly inked tattoo.

you let out a soft moan, arching into his touch. "me too," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "i've wanted you for so long."

he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark and filled with desire as he looked at you. "then let's not waste any more time," he said, his voice a low growl.

with a swift movement, he lifted you onto the tattoo chair, positioning himself between your legs. the cool leather against your skin was a stark contrast to the heat building between you. jungkook's hands slid under your hoodie, pushing it up to reveal more of your skin. he kissed a trail down your collarbone, his fingers deftly undoing the clasp of your bra.

your breath hitched as he pulled the bra away, his lips capturing one of your nipples in a hot, wet kiss. you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he lavished attention on your breasts, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

"jungkook," you moaned, the sound of his name a desperate plea on your lips.

he responded by kissing his way back up to your mouth, his tongue parting your lips as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. the kiss was deep and fervent, leaving a string of saliva connecting your lips when they parted. his hands roamed over your body, exploring every curve and dip, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

you could feel his arousal pressing against your thigh, and the sensation only heightened your own desire. with a trembling hand, you reached down, palming him through his jeans. he let out a low groan, the sound vibrating through you and making you even wetter.

"need you," you gasped against his lips, your voice breathless with need.

jungkook pulled back just enough to tug off his shirt, revealing the expanse of tattoos that decorated his chest and arms. you couldn't help but run your hands over his skin, tracing the lines of ink with your fingers.

he made quick work of your clothes, stripping you bare before him. the cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but the look in jungkook's eyes sent a new wave of warmth through you. he kissed you again, his hands exploring your body with a fervent intensity.

his fingers found their way between your legs, sliding through your wetness with practiced ease. you gasped, bucking into his hand as he teased your entrance.

"you're so wet for me," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and tantalizing. "i want to taste you."

before you could respond, he knelt between your thighs, his tongue darting out to taste you. the sensation was overwhelming, and you cried out, your hands gripping the edges of the tattoo chair as he licked and sucked at your most sensitive spots.

jungkook's tongue moved with expert precision, driving you closer and closer to the edge. just as you felt the first tremors of your orgasm, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

"i want you to come with me inside you," he said, his voice rough with desire.

you nodded, too breathless to speak, and he quickly shed the rest of his clothes. the sight of him, fully naked and aroused, made your mouth water. he positioned himself at your entrance, his eyes locking with yours as he slowly pushed inside.

the sensation of him filling you was indescribable, a perfect mix of pleasure and pressure. you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper as he began to move. each thrust was deliberate and powerful, driving you closer to the edge with each stroke.

jungkook's hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he moved faster, his breath hot against your neck. "you're mine," he growled, his voice filled with possessive desire.

"yes," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders. "i'm yours."

the words seemed to spur him on, and he increased his pace, driving into you with an almost desperate intensity. your orgasm built rapidly, a tight coil of pleasure that finally snapped, sending you over the edge with a cry of his name.

jungkook followed you over the edge, his own release shuddering through him as he buried himself deep inside you. he collapsed against you, both of you breathing heavily as the aftershocks of your orgasms coursed through you.

for a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. it was just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet, dimly lit shop, the air thick with the scent of sex and sweat.

"that was…" you began, but trailed off, unable to find the words.

"amazing," jungkook finished for you, his lips curling into a satisfied smile.

you nodded, a matching smile spreading across your face. "yeah. amazing."

jungkook pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, his arms wrapping around you in a protective embrace. "i told you," he murmured, his voice soft and tender. "i'll always be here for you."

you nestled closer to him, savouring the warmth of his body against yours. "and i'll always be here for you," you whispered back, feeling a profound sense of connection and contentment.

jungkook pulled back slightly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "we should get cleaned up," he said, but made no move to let you go. instead, he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle and affectionate.

you smiled, leaning into his touch. "yeah, but maybe we can stay like this for just a little longer," you suggested, not ready to break the intimate cocoon that had enveloped you both.

he chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. "i like the sound of that."

the two of you lay there for a while, wrapped up in each other's arms, the quiet of the tattoo shop providing a serene backdrop to your tender moment. the reality of the outside world seemed distant and unimportant compared to the warmth and closeness you shared.

eventually, jungkook sighed and pulled away, albeit reluctantly. "as much as i'd love to stay here with you forever, we should clean up and get you home."

you nodded, understanding the practicality of his words even though you wished the moment could last longer. "okay."

jungkook helped you off the tattoo chair, both of you moving slowly, savoring the lingering touches and stolen kisses as you gathered your clothes. he was gentle as he helped you dress, his fingers brushing against your skin in a way that made you want to pull him back into your embrace.

once you were both dressed, jungkook guided you to the small bathroom at the back of the shop. he wet a cloth and began to gently clean the areas of your body that still tingled from his touch. the intimacy of the moment, even in such a simple act, made your heart swell with affection.

"thank you," you said softly, your voice filled with sincerity. "for everything."

he smiled, his eyes locking with yours in a way that made you feel cherished. "anytime, y/n."

with a final, lingering kiss, jungkook finished cleaning up and walked you to the door. the cool night air was a stark contrast to the warmth you felt inside, but you didn't mind. you knew that the bond you had forged tonight was something special, something that would stay with you long after you left the shop.

as you stepped outside, jungkook held your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "call me when you get home, okay? i want to make sure you're safe."

you nodded, squeezing his hand in return. "i will."

he watched as you walked away, his figure a comforting presence behind you. as you made your way home, you felt a sense of peace and fulfilment that you hadn't felt in a long time. the night had been more than just a tattoo session—it had been a new beginning, a step towards a future filled with promise and love.

later that night, as you settled into bed, your mind was filled with thoughts of jungkook, completely forgetting he was waiting for your call.

the intimacy you shared, the way he looked at you, the feeling of his hands on your skin—it all replayed in your mind like a beautiful dream. just as you were about to drift off to sleep, your phone rang, breaking the silence of the room. the screen displayed jungkook's name, and your heart skipped a beat.

you answered the call, trying to keep your voice steady. "hey,"

"hey," he replied, his voice warm and soothing. "i just wanted to make sure you got home safely."

"i did," you said, feeling a rush of warmth at his concern. "thank you for checking."

there was a brief silence, filled with the unspoken feelings hanging between you. finally, jungkook broke the silence. "i can't stop thinking about tonight, about you, y/n."

"me too," you admitted, your voice soft. "thanks for the special treatment."

"it was special," jungkook agreed. "i've wanted to tell you how i feel for so long, but i didn't know if you felt the same way."

"i do," you whispered, your heart pounding. "i feel the same way, jungkook."

he let out a relieved sigh, and you could hear the smile in his voice. "i'm glad to hear that. how about we make this official? can i take you out to dinner tomorrow night?"

your face broke into a wide smile, your excitement bubbling over. "i'd love that."

"great," jungkook said, his voice filled with warmth. "i'll pick you up at seven. sweet dreams, y/n."

"sweet dreams, jungkook," you replied, ending the call with a smile.

the next day was a blur of anticipation and excitement. as the evening approached, you found yourself carefully selecting an outfit, wanting everything to be perfect. when the clock struck seven, a knock on your door made your heart race.

jungkook stood on the other side, looking effortlessly handsome. he greeted you with a bouquet and a shy, endearing smile. "you look beautiful," he said, his eyes filled with admiration.

"thank you," you replied, feeling your cheeks flush with warmth. "you look great too."

the dinner was perfect. the two of you shared stories, laughter, and tender glances across the table. every moment felt charged with electricity, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. after dinner, jungkook took you for a walk in a nearby park. the night was clear, the stars twinkling above as you strolled hand in hand.

as you reached a quiet spot, jungkook turned to face you, his expression serious yet tender. "y/n, i meant what i said last night. i'll always be here for you. i want to be with you if you'll have me."

your heart swelled with emotion, and you nodded, tears of happiness brimming in your eyes. "i want to be with you too, jungkook. more than anything."

he pulled you into a gentle embrace, his lips finding yours in a soft, tender kiss. the world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you in your perfect moment.

the weeks that followed were filled with joy and discovery. jungkook became not only your lover but your confidant and best friend. each moment spent together strengthened your bond, and your love grew stronger with each passing day.

you found yourself spending more and more time at jungkook's apartment, where he would cook for you, and you would talk for hours about everything and nothing. the walls that once seemed to contain just his life now felt like a shared space where your love blossomed.

one evening, as you lay in bed together, jungkook traced patterns on your skin, his touch sending shivers through you. "i've been thinking about something," he said, hesitating.

"what is it?" you asked, turning to face him.

"i want us to move in together," he confessed, his eyes searching yours. "i want you to be a part of my everyday life, not just the special moments. what do you think?"

your heart swelled with joy, and you couldn't stop the smile on your face. "i think i'd love that. more than anything."

moving in together felt like the most natural step in your relationship. you merged your lives seamlessly, finding comfort and joy in the little things—cooking together, late-night talks, and lazy sunday mornings.

one evening, while unpacking the last of your things, you came across an old photo album. sitting on the couch, you and jungkook flipped through the pages, laughing at childhood photos and sharing stories from your pasts. it felt intimate and suitable, a testament to how deeply you trusted each other.

jungkook pulled you close, his eyes filled with love and promise. "we've come a long way, haven't we?"

"we have," you agreed, resting your head on his shoulder. "and i wouldn't change a thing."

as the evening wore on, you found yourselves on the balcony, watching the sunset. jungkook wrapped his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. "i can't wait to see what the future holds for us," he murmured.

"me too," you replied, your heart full of love and excitement. "with you by my side, i know it will be amazing."

as you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you felt a deep sense of fulfilment and contentment. the journey began with a simple tattoo, which had transformed into a beautiful love story that would continue to unfold with each passing day.

your past no longer held any power over you; you could embrace a future filled with love, promise, and endless possibilities. together, you and jungkook would face whatever came your way, knowing that your love was strong enough to withstand anything.

as you closed your eyes and leaned into his embrace, you knew this was just the beginning of your happily ever after.

(sorry omg i love this pic sm rn 😭😭😭)

© marvyu 2k24 — please do not copy, repost or translate any of my works on other platforms: i do not tolerate them at all.

[the-upside-down-umbrella]

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

Five Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Summary: After finding out about the seven years Lila and Five spent together, reader walks in to a diner in between all time and space and finds exactly what she didn’t know she was looking for

Warnings: cursing, cheating, anxiety

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

The walls were closing in on her. The air in her lungs was poison. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. She could only see the tender look that Five and Lila shared. A nightmare.

No, not a nightmare. Reality.

Her name was being repeated over and over but she couldn’t claw her way back to the surface in order to reply. Her knees gave way and she sunk to the ground, the world spinning around her.

Callused hands were cupping her face and she heard her name again. Pleads of forgiveness. Pleads for understanding.

She came to.

“Don’t…touch me,” she snarled, jerking away from the man in front of her.

“Y/N, please, let me explain,” Five pleaded, looking utterly dejected.

Her heart tightened in her chest and for a brief moment, the part of her that still loved him and still wanted to hold on to what they had, ached to reach out and comfort him. But it was quickly dashed by the realization that she was far angrier than she was sorrowful. She hated him. She hated him for making her feel this way.

“Just give her some room to breathe, asshole,” She heard Diego’s angry voice snap from somewhere off in the distance.

“Stay the fuck out of our business,” Five barked.

“You made it my fucking business the moment you decided to fuck my wife and betray Y/N’s trust!”

Five reached out for her again, his hand clasping her forearm as he blinked them away from the chaos. She stumbled, catching herself on a bench as they reappeared in the subway terminal he had brought them to just a few days before. At least, it had only been a few days for her.

“Take me back, Five!” She demanded, rounding on him.

“I need you to hear me out, Y/N,” he said, holding his hands up in defense, “please, just let me explain.”

She was shaking now, palms sweaty and heart beating erratically, “I heard enough, trust me. I don’t have anything to say to you. It’s over, Five. That’s all there is to it.”

Turning on her heel, she set off in a run, desperate to put some space between them. She had no idea how she would get back on her own, but she wasn’t thinking any farther than the need to be away from him. She couldn’t look at him anymore. The pain was unbearable.

She ran until her thighs ached and her lungs burned, forcing her to stop at the top of a dark set of stairs that went down in to what she assumed was more nothing.

She took them anyways.

When she reached the bottom, she blinked in surprise. A lone building stood before her, a neon sign blazoned across the front that read ‘Max’s delicatessen’.

A deli existed between all time and space, surrounded by nothing but dilapidated subway terminals.

She was definitely in an ask questions later mindset because her legs carried her forward without much thought until her hand was reaching out for the door handle.

She stepped across the threshold and every head in the room swiveled to look at her, the entire place falling in to shocked silence.

Her mouth went dry and her heart thundered in her chest as multiple sets of familiar green eyes stared her down. Every patron and every employee of this deli was a variation of her boyfriend. And they were all looking her like they had just seen a ghost.

“I’ve died and this is my own personal hell,” she murmured to herself, rooted to the spot.

Finally, a Five that was sitting in a middle booth stood up, breaking the silence as he waved off his counterparts, “As you were, you animals.”

He made his way over to her and gave her a gentle, easy smile, “You’ll have to forgive them. It’s been years since most of them have seen their Y/N and never in here.”

“You know who I am?” She questioned him as he gestured to his booth, leading her over to sit down across from him.

“Of course I do,” he spoke softly, a tenderness in his gaze that set her face aflame, “We all do. Now, where are you from?”

“Um,” she swallowed hard, not knowing where to start, “I’m from the cleanse timeline? Another apocalypse.”

Another Five, this time with his sleeves pushed up and an apron tied around his waist, appeared before them, sitting a cup of tea and a plate full of her favorite cookies on the table. She didn’t even need to ask how he knew what she would like.

“Thank you,” she said earnestly.

“Anything for the missus.” This Five said, voice laced with longing.

Her companion shooed him away and turned his attention back to her.

“You’ve been crying,” he said matter-of-factly, noting the tear streaks that still marked her face, “what happened?”

“Five, my Five that is, he and Lila…,” she choked on her words, tears pricking at her eyes again as she remembered what brought her here in the first place. She hung her head as her mind replayed the entire scene in Diego and Lila’s living room.

Booth Fives expression darkened as he read between the lines, his fists clenching on the table, knuckles whitening, “I’ll kill him.”

“He and Lila were stuck for seven years,” she explained, “but for me it was only a few hours. I can’t wrap my head around it.”

“That’s still no excuse!” Booth Five growled, “Do you know what every single one of us would do to have even just a moment longer with our Y/N? I don’t care how long he was trapped with her, he should have never crossed that line!”

His anger was palpable and she felt the need to reach out and soothe him, her hand covering his own, his fingers relaxing under her touch. She stroked her thumb across the back of his hand and he turned it palm up, interlacing his fingers with hers.

“I’m okay. I promise,” she assured him, “or at least I will be. Can I…can I ask what happened to me in your timeline?”

Pain flashed across his features and she realized she was probably forcing him to relive one of the worst days of his life.

“You…died. The handler put a hit out on you so that you wouldn’t be a distraction. They got to you before I could stop it. You saw it coming because you put up a hell of a fight, but there were too many of them.”

“Oh, Five,” she whispered, squeezing his hand, “I’m so so sorry. I can’t even imagine what you must have gone through.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said, voice distant, “But I still think about her, you, every day. I never thought I’d see you again until you stepped through that door today.”

“I’m the shittiest seer,” she said, lip quivering, “because I never saw any of this coming. And I’m willing to bet that no other versions of me could see what misfortunes were ahead of them.”

“You always did struggle seeing in to your own future. But there’s limits on all of our powers.”

She broke down at those words, feeling more powerless than she felt actually without her powers. What was the point of being able to see in to the future if she was never able to stop any of it? She couldn’t prevent any of the apocalypses in any timeline she existed in. She couldn’t stop the death and destruction that marred every last world that Five had fought for. She couldn’t even prevent her own death.

Before the first sob even escaped her chest, booth Five was scrambling out of his seat and sliding in to the spot next to her, pulling her in to his arms.

“Oh, my darling. My darling,” he cooed, kissing the tears from her cheeks, “None of this is your fault. You are not responsible for any of our unhappiness. You are everything good that has ever come to any of us, my love. Even if it wasn’t meant to last.”

She cried harder, her whole body shaking as he tightened his arms around her.

“I’m going to fix this,” he whispered in to her hair, holding her against his chest as she sobbed her anguish in to his shoulder, “I’m going to make sure that you never feel this pain ever again. You’re going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

And she believed him. He was essentially a total stranger but the way he held her, the way he spoke, was of a desperate man who already went through the loss of her once and had no intention of losing her again.

She felt safe.

Authors Note: Possible part 2? I haven’t been this inspired to write in a long time!

[entwnii]

it’s already late at night when 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐔 walks out of the gym, his sport bag in his hand.

the droplets of water falling from his platinum blonde hair run down his face and the back of his neck. paired with the chill breeze of the night, it makes a trail of shivers run down his spine and goosebumps appear on his light skin.

god, why did he forget to bring a towel ?

he grabs his keys from the back pocket of his shorts before opening the car’s door, throwing his sport bag somewhere on the backseat while he slides down on the driver seat.

he turns his car on, a white porsche 718 spyder, hoping that his hair will dry during the ride home before driving off to your shared apartment.

the wind that blows through his blonde locks makes the pro athlete sigh in contentment, a small smile appearing on his slightly chapped lips as he drives through the busy streets of osaka, the neon lights of the stores lighting his face in various colors.

it doesn’t take him longer than twenty minutes to get to his residence, parking his convertible car in it’s usual spot.

atsumu grabs his bag’s handle and gets out of the car before locking it. he walks over to the apartment building’s entrance, opening the door and making his way to the staircase.

once he reaches the third floor, he walks over to the door of your shared apartment, the only one on the third floor.

the blonde-haired man unlocks the front door with his keys before stepping inside.

your fiancé carefully closes the door behind him, not wanting to wake you up. he kicks his shoes off his feet before placing his sport bag on the floor next to the door.

atsumu’s dark brown eyes are attracted by a small light coming from the living room.

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the pro volleyball player walks over to the living room, scratching the back of his neck.

the frown on his face immediately disappears at the sight in front of him, a fond smile replacing it.

the television is on, mamma mia is currently playing on the screen, one of your favorite movies. there’s a plate of muffins on the coffee table, blueberry and lemon ones with powdered sugar icing on top along with a glass bottle of lemonade.

all the while you are laying on the skandi couch, facing the television, visibly asleep. one of your cheeks is pressed against the back of your hand, your eyes closed and your plump lips slightly parted. soft breaths escape you as one of atsumu’s large shirts is draped over your body.

despite all of his efforts not to wake you up, atsumu’s foot bumps into one of the couch’s footers, making him yelp at the sudden pain, which wakes you up.

atsumu watches as you turn around, facing the couch’s back, a frown on your face while a small whine escapes you. your eyelashes flutter open, trying to adjust your eyesight to the light coming from the television.

as you sit up, you start rubbing your eyes, letting a groan of complain before finally glancing to the side, glaring at your fiancé.

“sorry, baby.” atsumu flashes you a small smile, a hint of regret visible in his eyes, despite his urge to laugh at your sleepy appearance.

“how’s my future mama ?” he asks as he places his hands on the back of the skandi couch, leaning towards you.

“fine, but she was quite calm until you arrived.” you accusingly tell him, a subtle frown on your features as you place a hand on your baby bump.

“‘t’s not my fault she likes my voice.” atsumu lets out a chuckle, placing a hand on the side of your face, turning your head to place a small peck on your plump lips. “only two months left…”

you let out a small hum at his words, looking up at him with sleepy eyes.

atsumu parts away from your plump lips, licking his own. “imma eat somethin’, what do ya wanna eat ?”

you scratch the bridge of your nose with your nails, thinking about his offer. “i want vanilla ice cream… with olive oil and salt.”

atsumu nods his head at your request, a small ‘kay’ leaving his lips before he walks over to the kitchen.

he knows better than to criticize your cravings, especially since it isn’t the weirdest one out of your seven months of pregnancy.

your fiancé turns on the kitchen’s lights, scratching the back of his neck as he walks around the kitchen to gather the ingredients.

he grabs two bowls from one of the drawers before turning over to the fridge and opening it. he grabs the vanilla ice cream container along with his oatmeal and the milk.

atsumu places a good amount of oatmeal into his bowl before pouring some milk on top and putting the bowl on the side.

he then begins to scoop out some vanilla ice cream, placing it in the second bowl before grabbing the olive oil. he pours a trail of the oil on top of the ice cream and sprinkles some sea salt on top.

the blonde-haired boy wipes the kitchen counter, cleaning the small mess he made, and puts the ingredients back in the fridge.

he grabs both the bowls, along with two tablespoons and walks back to the living room.

“here ya go, pretty girl.” atsumu announces with a grin on his face as he hands you your bowl and a spoon.

he slides on the skandi couch right next to you and digs into his oatmeal. he glances over at you, his grin widening as he watches the pleased expression on your face as you savor the ice cream.

“do you want to try it, ‘tsumu ?” you ask as you look over at atsumu, pointing to the mixture in your bowl with your spoon.

“nah, i’m not trustin’ you with that.” he shakes his head, a loud laugh escaping him.

safe to say that you were pissed at him after that, which only made him laugh more.

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Fumikage Tokoyami x Reader x Dark Shadow 🍋 - Curiosity Killed the Crow

Summary: This was your fault for asking too many questions, really. You and Tokoyami had been dating for several months now and it had crossed your mind to ask: did that make Dark Shadow your boyfriend too?

Warnings: porn with plot, selfcest, fem!reader, tokoyami x reader x dark shadow, poly relationship, cum eating, fingering, fish hooking, oral fixation, dirty talk, threesome, masterbation

The question had caught him off guard when you'd asked it so nonchalantly. "Hey so...is Dark Shadow part of oyu or like, a separate entity?"

"I like to think of him as a separate being, we just share the same body and soul." Tokoyami replied, briefly glancing up at you from the book he was reading on the couch. "Why do you ask?"

"No reason," you lied, chopping up vegetables for dinner. "Just crossed my mind the other day while I was at work."

"Well, I hope that answer is sufficient." He nodded, setting the book down and standing up to join you in the kitchen. "Anything else on your mind, dove?"

"I was just wondering... does that make me Dark Shadow's girlfriend too?" you pondered, missing how he froze behind you. He hadn't thought of it that way.

"I-I'm not sure, to be quite honest." He answered, glancing away awkwardly. "Do you want it to be that way?"

"I don't guess I'd be opposed to it," you shrugged, not giving it the same level of thought as he was. "Does he even have senses like that?"

"I don't know," he repeated, distracting his racing thoughts by putting away the dishes you'd washed before starting dinner. "He has likes and dislikes, he can feel pain and pleasure, so..."

"You mean like sexual pleasure?" you blurted so nonchalantly it gave him chills. "Or like the pleasure you get from eating something tasty? I know he likes sweets."

"I-I really don't know, dove." he blushed, unsure of how to answer any of your questions. "I've never asked and he's never told me so..."

"I'm sorry, 'Yami," you apologized sheepishly, giving him a sympathetic grin. "I didn't mean to make it weird, we can drop it."

-----

Needless to say, for the next week, your questioning riled Tokoyami up significantly, and he could feel his other half stir within him. After an admittedly quite awkward conversation with the entity, he promised himself the matter would get sorted when you came to his apartment for the night next.

-----

"Hey, Toko, I'm here!" you called, slipping into the apartment, and kicking the door behind you as your hands were full. "I picked up dinner on the way home, hope you're in the mood for pork cutlet!"

You blinked at the stillness of the apartment as you set everything down on the island, kicking out of your shoes by the door before heading deeper inside. "'Yami?" you called out, inching toward the bedroom, freezing in the doorway.

His bedroom was barely different from how it typically was, aglow with ambient candles and soft purple neon lights, gothic music playing quietly from a record player in the corner. What was different was the way he lounged on the bed, fully clothed, but scandalous way, void colored button up undone to his toned stomach with silver chains hanging against his chest. He wore matching slacks and polished loafers, much to your surprise. Tokoyami was typically such a stickler for not wearing shoes indoors, which meant he was wearing them, for a reason. He was dressed up for you, presenting his best self like all birds do.

The part of his peacocking that really intrigued you, however was how his vermillion stare never left you, seemingly trained on you before you'd even arrived. That and the way his calloused hand palmed his crotch, painted nails getting lost in the inky shadows on his slacks, and thick pewter watch catching the moonlight. "Welcome home, my dove."

"T-Tokoyami...?" you stuttered, knees quaking as you waited in the doorway like a deer stuck in the high beams of a truck. "W-What are you...?"

"Come forth, my love," he beckoned poetically, prompting your to naturally gravitate towards him. "How was work?" He asked, ignoring you, simply pulling you into him gently, making you sit down with him, rubbing your shoulders. "Hard day?"

"I-It was fine..." you replied, melting at his touch, moaning as he worked the knots from your neck. "I brought dinner... I didn't feel like cooking so I got us something on the way."

"So generous, my lark," He cooed, nuzzling his beak into hair, preening your locks. "Always thinking of others..."

"I-I guess..." you shrugged, embarrassed of the sudden praise, tickled slightly when his beak dragged against your nape.

"Such a sweet darling," your boyfriend hummed, grooming you lovingly. "We've missed you so much this week..."

"Raven..." you whispered, melting against him before tensing once more. "W-We? D-Did you invite someone else over?" you asked, the color draining from your face. "I-I don't know if I'm comfortable with-"

"Dark Shadow and I have been... talking about what you asked last week." He finally confessed, fingers running through your hair. "And we both agree that, if it were the will of her highness..." he smirked, nudging you from behind. "We'd like to share..."

You were speechless, wondering if this was real or a fantasy come to life. You had to admit, you'd always thought of his quirk being involved but you never thought it'd even be on the table, let alone handed to you on a silver platter. "Of course, the decision is yours, my lark."

"A-Alright..." you finally piped up, nodding. "I-I'd like to try..."

Tokoyami released a low, dark chuckle into your ear as his other half began to materialize from his back. "Divine..."

-----

"Fumi, look how she squirms..." Dark Shadow squealed with delight, abyssal claws squeezing your wrists as he pinned you to the bed. "So cute..."

"Don't tell me," Tokoyami laughed from between your thighs. "Tell her, she's yours now too, you know."

"Right, I keep forgetting..." The entity purred, face dipping into the crook of your neck, nipping at your flesh. "You're so, so cute, baby..." You writhed under their touch, Tokoyami's fingers working on digging an orgasm out of your core as he nipped softly at your plush thighs, coupled with Dark Shadow's relentless teasing. It was entirely too much for you and neither one of them seemed to care.

"A-Ah, fuck..." you cried, overstimulated tears slipping down your cheeks and being absorbed by the shadow as your hips bucked upwards against your first lover's face.

"Keep going, Fumi," the staticky voice teased. "I think she might cum right into your hand."

"You think she could?" Tokoyami replied, digging deeper, curled fingers grazing that special spot that made you see stars.

"Mhm," the abyss chirped against your throat, working his way down to your naked chest. Clawed hands settled on your upper stomach, shaking up and down as he giggled at the way your breasts bounced on your ribcage. "Can you do that, pretty girl? Can you cum on Fumi's hand for us?"

"T-Trying-!" you shrieked through gritted teeth. "W-Wanna so bad, Shadow!" Both of your boyfriends shivered at your words, reveling in your willingness to call the quirk out specifically by name. Your blissful cries made him feel so individual, like his own separate person.

"C'mon, princess, you can do it," Dark Shadow purred, indigo teeth nibbling at your earlobe as he talked you through it. "You like getting fucked on Fumi's fingers, don't you?" you simply nodded in response, mouth hanging open and eyes screwed shut as you chased your orgasm. "Oh, baby, I know you do. Look how well she takes your abuse, Fumi."

You couldn't take it anymore, vision going white as an embarrassingly lewd, cracky scream ripped from your drooly and kiss bitten lips. "That's it, dove," Tokoyami sighed, sore fingers never faltering through the strain as your hips rolled against them. "Ride it out, there you go, such a good girl for us."

"There she is," Shadow commented with delight, taking in the way your body quaked and face distorted. "Right into his hand, so perfect, yeah, baby..." He praised, pressing his beak to your forehead as a reward for hold out for him.

-----

"Shhh, we'll be gentle," the entity promised, wrapping around your torso so you could lean your back to his chest as Tokoyami kneeled over you both. "We'll do all the work, you just gotta lay here and take it, 'kay, sweetness?" You nodded, exhausted, looking up at the crow with droopy eyes. The way he stroked himself looked delicious, but having just come down from your own high, you were in no kind of shape to savor it.

You laid limp in Dark Shadow's arms, his abyssal claws kneading at your breast while his beak nipped into your shoulder from behind. "You look so divine, my love..." the raven cooed down to you, ruby eyes begging you for satisfaction. "Doesn't she, Shadow?"

"So pretty, so soft..." the entity answered with a soft chuckle. "Especially these titties and this tummy..." he added, groping the excess on your body. "Love having all this in my hands..."

Humiliation, exhaustion, and overstimulation dropped your chin to your collarbone, tearing away the sweet eye contact that had your pro hero boyfriend on the ropes. "No, darling, look at me, please..." he begged, having been well on his way. "Shadow, help her..."

Delighted to help, clawed hands roamed up your body, one settling under your chin to keep your head up, and the other settled in your hair, gently clenching a fistful to angle your head properly. "Awe, I know you're sleepy, sweets, but you have to help Fumi get there too. You wanna be a good girl, don't you?"

"M-Mhm..." was all you could choke out, mouth hung open as he squeezed your cheeks together. Your eyes fluttered open to see Tokoyami unravelling above you, his head falling back in bliss before returning his gaze back to you.

"Fuck, yes, light, that's it..." he sighed, fucking into his hand, leaning his pelvis in closer. It was this, coupled with the way Shadow's hands shifted to cup your cheeks, that made you realize what they wanted.

"Stick out that cute little tongue..." The abyss ordered playfully, pinching the tip of it between his thumb and index finger, pulling it out further. "So slobbery..." he mused, letting it go as he reached out to his host, who licked your saliva off his fingertips.

"A-Ah, fuck-!" Tokoyami grunted sharply, overcoming another wall, bringing him closer to climax. "O-Open up, lark..."

Dark Shadow's two index fingers then hooked into your cheeks like he was catching a fish, using his knuckles to force your top jaw wide while his middle fingers did the same to the bottom. "Say 'ahhh'..." he purred into your ear.

"A-Ahhh!" you tried to mimic, cheeks burning at how the thing laughed at your pathetic, muffled attempt.

"Say 'Please, Fumi, cum on my tongue!'" Shadow continued, relishing in how he position he had your mouth in made your tongue flop out, dripping drool into the spaces between your fingers.

"P-Pleash ch-cum on my chongue!" you slurred, love drunk and needy.

Suddenly, Tokoyami let out a pained grunt, leaning in close as his hips jerked against his closed fist. "A-As you... w-wish, my dove!" he cried as ropes shot out of his swollen bell, landing in your hair and on your face, tits, and tongue.

"Good job, Fumi," Shadow praised, petting your hair soothingly. "And you did so perfectly catching as much as you could, princess." he dragged his fingers across your tongue to remove as much of his host's seed as he could. "Taste good, baby?" You nodded, reveling in the icky feeling of jizz congealing in your lashes, preparing to swallow what of the load made it into your mouth. "Ah ah, don't you swallow that."

Your first lover leaned forward, head tilted and tongue out before he met your lips, initiating a tired but needy make-out that was all slobber and see and tongue as he tried to avoid poking his sharp beak into your plush lips. Before you could even realize what was happening, Tokoyami had eaten his own cum from your mouth, or as much of it as he could.

"How was that, Fumi?" The more playful partner chirped, wiping his hands off on your tummy.

"Divine..." The other heaved, collapsing next to you, pulling your in close.

"Playtime's over?" Shadow asked, a bit saddened to have not been able to climax himself, but then again, he didn't have the ability.

"For now, friend..." the host replied, barely conscious as you were already beginning to drift off. "I-I promise next time, you'll be more involved. We can work on seeing what you can really do in the future..." he swore as his soulmate began to dissipate back within himself, feeling a bit guilty for having all the fun.

"Can't wait to play with sweets again," the entity accepted, now almost totally absorbed into Tokoyami's back. "Goodnight, baby, I love you..."

The crow could help but feel his heart swell at the small confession. Although you'd only been dating for a few months, he had already long since decided he wanted you to be his wife one day, and knowing you and the other part of himself were falling in love meant everything to him. It was a brand new level of acceptance he never thought possible. He had known you were the one but this night only resolidified his belief in that.

"Goodnight, my light..." He purred softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he snuggled up with you. "I-" He suddenly paused before smiling serenely at you. "We... love you to death and beyond."

[fvsm4x]

‚ 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐲𝐧𝐚 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜, 𝐈‘𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧‘𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 ‘ — 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐬

𝐜𝐰. Best friends to fwb / fwb! gojo satoru x fem! reader / one sided love? / smut / gojo is kinda a whore / jealousy / kinda angsty / 18+ content / oral (f receiving) / fingering / p in v / 5k words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠. : @starlightanyaaa @froufrousnowman @101strawberries101 @dazaisfavgf @the-lazy-perfectionist @maiiluvs @lukiaheart

November 26

The city skyline glittered under the moonlight, a sprawling array of lights against the night sky, painting a mesmerizing backdrop to the chaotic rhythm of the urban jungle. From your balcony, perched high above the city streets, you watched as life carried on below, oblivious to the turmoil brewing within you.

You picked up your phone, the screen glowing softly in the darkness, displaying a single message from him.

Satoru: you busy?

October 2

The neon lights of the bar flickered in the darkness, casting an ethereal glow over the crowded room on that Friday night. The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and the hum of conversation, creating an atmosphere charged with anticipation. Lost in your own thoughts, you sat at the bar, nursing your drink in silence, observing the world around you.

“Fancy meeting you here,” a voice drawled beside you, jolting you from your reverie.

Turning, you found Gojo Satoru sliding onto the stool beside you, his trademark smirk in place. “Can't say the feeling's mutual,” you retorted, taking a sip of your drink and pointedly ignoring him.

He chuckled, undeterred by your icy demeanor. “Come on, don't be like that. I'm just trying to be friendly.”

Rolling your eyes, you resisted the urge to scoff at his feeble attempt at charm. “Save it, Satoru. I've heard it all before.”

Raising an eyebrow, a hint of amusement danced in Gojo's eyes. “Touché. But you have to admit, we make quite the pair.”

You scoffed, downing the rest of your drink in one gulp. “Speak for yourself.”

As the night wore on, the tension between you grew, fueled by a potent combination of alcohol and unspoken desires. Arguing and bantering became your shared language, trading barbs and insults with the ease of long-time adversaries. But beneath the surface, a different kind of tension simmered—a tension born of attraction and longing, a tension that neither of you dared to acknowledge.

“You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you sure do spend a lot of time with me,” Gojo remarked, his lips quirking up into a sly grin.

“Maybe I just enjoy watching you make a fool of yourself,” you shot back, though the words rang hollow even to your own ears.

He chuckled, leaning in closer until his breath fanned against your ear. “Or maybe you just can't resist me.”

You tensed at his proximity, the heat of his body sending a shiver down your spine. “Don't flatter yourself,” you replied, though the words lacked conviction.

He leaned back, his grin widening into a smirk. “I'll take that as a yes.”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn't deny the truth in his words. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that drew you in against your better judgment.

“Why do you always have to be such a pain?” you muttered, though your words lacked the bite of true conviction.

He chuckled, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. “Because it's fun.”

You swatted his hand away with a scowl, though your heart wasn't in it. “You're impossible.”

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And yet, you love me.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but the words died on your lips as his gaze locked with yours. You furrowed your eyebrows and turned away from him.

“I could never lower my standards for a rodent like you.” you said, averting his gaze,

Gojo's smirk faltered for a moment, before he masked it with a nonchalant shrug. "Ouch, that hurts, (Y/N). I didn't realize I was dealing with such high standards."

You clenched your jaw, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as you struggled to maintain your composure. "High standards? More like basic human decency," you shot back."You're not nearly as interesting as you think you are." You lied.

He raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable as he studied you in silence for a moment. "Is that so?" he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, refusing to meet his gaze as you focused on the empty glass in front of you. "Yeah, it is," you spoke, the words leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

With a heavy sigh, Gojo leaned back, "Such a meany“ he muttered, a hint of playfulness in his voice.

You chuckled, shaking your head at his dramatics. "Oh, please," you retorted, rolling your eyes. "You love it when I give you a hard time. Keeps you on your toes."

Gojo's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, (Y/N)," he teased, "But deep down, you know you couldn't live without me."

You feigned a gag, a smile playing on your lips. "Don't flatter yourself, Satoru," you replied, though there was a hint of fondness in your tone. "I've managed just fine without you before, and I can do it again."

“Yeah, right,” he quipped, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned back against the bar.

You arched an eyebrow at his retort, a smirk playing at the corners of your lips. "You doubt me, Satoru?" you replied, your voice dripping with mock indignation. "I'll have you know, I'm perfectly capable of thriving on my own."

He chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "Sure, sure," he said, his tone teasing. "But let's be honest, (Y/N). You'd miss me too much if I were gone."

You rolled your eyes, though there was a small kernel of truth in his words that you couldn't deny. "Yeah, right," you muttered, though the words lacked conviction.

As Gojo's phone buzzed with a notification, he glanced down and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. With a smirk, he tapped on the message, and his smirk widened into a grin as he turned the screen toward you.

"Look," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

You glanced at the screen, expecting to see a harmless message or maybe a meme, but your eyes widened in shock as the image loaded. It was a picture—no, several pictures—of a woman in various states of undress, her features blurred out but her intentions unmistakable.

Your jaw dropped, heat rising to your cheeks as you struggled to process what you were seeing. "Are those...?" you started, unable to form a coherent sentence as your mind raced with a million questions.

Gojo chuckled, his amusement evident as he scrolled through the messages. "Looks like someone's eager to get my attention," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance.

You tore your gaze away from the screen, a mixture of embarrassment and anger bubbling beneath the surface. "That's disgusting," you muttered, unable to keep the disdain from your voice.

Gojo continued scrolling through the pictures, his expression shifting from amusement to mild annoyance. "Girls these days really are something else," he remarked, shaking his head,“I know i‘m handsome and allat but they need to chill out.“

You glanced at him with a deadpan expression. "Thats your fault," you replied, the words dripping with sarcasm.

He hummed in response, his attention still fixed on his phone. "You're not gonna go to her place after she sends you something like that?" you asked,

He shrugged, finally looking up from his phone. "Why should I?" he replied, his tone casual. "It's nothing new—I get pictures like that every day."

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief at his nonchalant attitude. "Ah, right. I forgot my best friend is a whore," you retorted, unable to stop the words from slipping out.

Gojo's eyes widened in surprise at your accusation, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before he masked it with a practiced smirk. "Hey, now," he protested, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I prefer the term 'charming ladies' man,' thank you very much."

You rolled your eyes at his flippant response, unable to hide the hurt that lingered just beneath the surface. "Yeah, well, whatever helps you sleep at night," you muttered,

He leaned in, his playful demeanor shifting to something more serious. "You know that I wouldn't leave you just to be in another woman's bed" he said, his voice softer. "I'd rather be here with you to be honest.“

"Thats not what happened before" you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

He reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "The past is the past, (Y/N)," he said, his tone sincere. "You're the most important person in my life except for suguru. I wouldn't leave you here hanging for some chick, especially when you‘re drunk."

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for any hint of deception. But all you saw was the familiar warmth and mischief that had always drawn you to him. Despite everything, you couldn't help but smile.

He chuckled, his hand still resting on your shoulder. "Seriously. I know it can be hard to deal with me sometimes but if you ever need anything, you know I'm here for you."

You nodded, appreciating the sincerity in his words. "Yeah, I know."

The moment was interrupted by another buzz from Gojo's phone. He glanced down and sighed, rolling his eyes. "Not again," he muttered,

"What now?" you asked, curious despite yourself.

He turned the screen toward you, revealing another message from the same woman. This time, it was a video—equally suggestive and equally unwelcome.

„Don't show me that—” you muttered, turning away from the screen,“could've just said that you got another pair of nudes send“

"I don't wanna be the only one seeing that, gotta share it with someone.“ he replied, while letting out a soft chuckle.

You sighed.

„Didn’t I already tell her that it was a one-time thing?" Gojo muttered under his breath.

You couldn't help but snort at his predicament. "Looks like someone's not getting the hint."

He shook his head, quickly typing out a reply. "Some people just don't understand the word one-time thing," he grumbled,“I don't mind if women send me nudes though, it boosts my ego up.“ he replied with a chuckle after.

„Of course it does..“

You watched him for a moment, a thought forming in your mind. "Why don't you block her?" you suggested.

Gojo looked up, "I guess I could," he said slowly. "But that would be admitting defeat."

You rolled your eyes. "How would that admit your defeat? Only you would see it that way."

He chuckled, his fingers hovering over the block button. "Alright, fine." he said, finally pressing it. "She wasn't anything special anyways. I can always find a replacement for her.“

You rolled your eyes.

Gojo put his phone away and turned his full attention back to you. "So, what were we talking about before we were rudely interrupted?"

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. "How much you adore me, I think."

He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, right. That."

For the rest of the night, the conversation flowed easily between you. The barbs and insults remained, but they were laced with affection rather than frustration. The alcohol loosened your tongues and you found yourselves reminiscing about old times, sharing secrets, and laughing at inside jokes.

As the night drew to a close, you realized how much you valued these moments with Gojo. Despite his flaws and his infuriating arrogance, he was your best friend. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Walking out of the bar, you stumbled slightly, the effects of the alcohol making themselves known. Gojo steadied you with a grin, wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

"Easy there," he teased. "Can't have my best friend falling over."

You leaned into his embrace, grateful for his support. "Thanks, Satoru," you murmured, your voice soft.

He looked down at you, "Anytime, (Y/N). Anytime."

The walk to your apartment was filled with laughter and playful banter, the cool night air doing little to sober you up. The alcohol had settled into your system, making your steps uneven and your thoughts a bit hazy. Gojo's arm remained around your shoulders, guiding you along the familiar path.

Finally, you reached your door, fumbling with the keys as you tried to unlock it. Gojo chuckled, taking the keys from your hand and smoothly opening the door.

"You'd be lost without me," he teased, his breath warm against your ear.

"Shut up," you muttered, but there was no real bite in your words.

Inside, you kicked off your shoes and stumbled toward the couch, collapsing onto it with a sigh. Gojo followed, sitting beside you and stretching his arms out along the back of the couch.

"Do you need help with getting to the bedroom?" he remarked, his voice softer now.

"No it's fine," you replied, closing your eyes for a moment. When you opened them, you found him staring at you, his blue eyes intense and unreadable.

"What?" you asked, feeling a flush creep up your neck.

"Nothing," he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Just thinking how pretty you look even when you‘re drunk."

You rolled your eyes, but the compliment, however casual, warmed you. "You’re such a flirt," you said, your words slurring slightly.

"And you love it," he shot back, leaning in a bit closer.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the way his gaze seemed to pull you in, but you found yourself leaning in too, your breath hitching as the space between you shrank. Before you could second-guess yourself, your lips met his in a tentative kiss.

-

November 26

Satoru: you busy?

It had been the same message countless times over the past months.

The memory of that first night flashed in your mind. It had been a typical Friday evening, and you and Gojo had decided to unwind at your favorite bar. You had always been close, best friends who shared everything from secrets to inside jokes. But that night, something had shifted.

Gojo had looked at you differently, his gaze lingering a bit longer, his touches more frequent. You had felt a spark, a pull that you couldn’t ignore. The drinks had flowed, loosening your inhibitions, and before you knew it, you were back at your apartment, your lips crashing into his.

The next morning, tangled in sheets and the aftermath of a night you couldn’t quite believe had happened, Gojo had suggested the arrangement.

“Let’s keep it casual,” he had said, his tone nonchalant but his eyes intense. “No strings, just fun. What do you think?”

Caught between the high of what had just happened and the fear of losing him, you had agreed. You told yourself it was a good idea, a way to enjoy each other without complicating your friendship. But as the weeks turned into a month, it became clear that things weren’t so simple.

You replied to his message, your heart already racing at the thought of seeing him.

You: "No, come over."

Minutes later, there was a knock at your door. You opened it to find Gojo standing there, his familiar grin in place. He stepped inside, his presence filling the room. He was always like this—effortlessly confident, always in control.

“Miss me?” he teased, slipping off his shoes and stepping closer.

You forced a smile. “Yeah.”

His gaze lingered at you for a moment before he chuckled. His hands found your waist, pulling you into a kiss. It was intoxicating, the way he kissed you, but you knew better than to let yourself get lost in it. He was good at making you feel wanted, but there was a distance in his touch, a barrier you couldn’t breach.

As his lips moved against yours, you felt a familiar rush of heat. Gojo’s kisses were always intense, a blend of passion and skill that left you breathless. He deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with a practiced ease that made your knees weak. For a moment, you let yourself forget, let yourself drown in the sensation of his mouth on yours, his hands roaming over your body.

But then, reality intruded. The knowledge that this was all it would ever be, that he would never give you more, clawed at the back of your mind. You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Something wrong?” Gojo asked, his voice husky with desire.

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “No, just… catching my breath.”

He smirked, his hands sliding down to your hips. “Then let’s keep going.”

He picked you up by the thighs, and walked to the bedroom with you in his arms. He laid you down on your back, and hovered over you, his eyes dark with desire. He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch.

He nibbled your neck, his hands slipping underneath your t-shirt, teasing your skin as they moved upwards towards your breasts. You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine. You wanted him, needed him, but there was a part of you that longed for more than just the physical.

"You like that?" he murmured against your skin, his voice rough and filled with heat. "You like the way I make you feel?"

"Yes, Satoru," you breathed, your voice trembling with desire. "I love it."

"Good," he growled, his hands cupping your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. "I’want to hear you say my name."

You arched into his touch, your body alight with sensation. "S’toru," you moaned, the sound of his name slipping from your lips like a prayer.

"That's right," he murmured, his lips trailing down your body, his hands working to remove your clothes with practiced ease. "I want you to remember this. Every touch, every kiss. I want you to crave me."

You shuddered beneath him, your body responding to his words and touch. He undressed you slowly, savoring every moment, his eyes dark with hunger. When you were finally bare before him, he paused to drink in the sight of you, his gaze intense and possessive.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, "So perfect."

Your heart ached at his words, knowing they were just a part of the game he played. But you let yourself believe them, if only for a moment. "S’toru," you whispered, your voice filled with need.

He smiled, a dark, predatory grin. "I know," he said, his hands sliding down your body, caressing every curve and dip. "I know exactly what you need."

He kissed his way down your body, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When he reached the apex of your thighs, he paused, his breath hot against your skin. "Tell me," he demanded, his voice a low growl. "Tell me what you want."

"Please, Satoru," you begged, your voice a desperate whisper. "I need you. I need you inside.."

"Not yet," he said, his eyes glinting with mischief,“Want you to beg for it.“

You whimpered, your body trembling with anticipation. "Please," you repeated, your voice breaking. "Please, Satoru, I need you."

„More.“

You closed your eyes,“please, please s‘toru. Please.“ you begged.

He chuckled, a dark, satisfied sound. "Wasn’t so hard now was it?“ he said, his hands parting your thighs.

His fingers slipped between your thighs, teasing the sensitive skin there. "S’ wet for me," he muttered, a smirk playing on his lips. He slid a finger through your folds, gathering your arousal and spreading it over your clit. “All for me, right?”

You reopened your eyes and looked at him, only to find him staring at your body instead of your face. It reminded you that he was doing this only for pleasure. “Yeah, only for you,” you muttered, trying to keep your voice steady despite the emotions swirling within you.

His finger moved in slow, deliberate circles over your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. “That’s right,” he said, his voice low and filled with satisfaction.

Your breath hitched as he increased the pressure, his touch expertly finding that perfect rhythm. “Satoru,” you moaned, your hips bucking against his hand.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I love the way you say my name,” he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. “Say it again.”

“Satoru,” you gasped, your voice a desperate plea. The sensation of his thumb on your clit, combined with the way his fingers teased your entrance, was driving you to the edge.

“That’s it,” he growled, his lips trailing down your neck. “Let go for me. Show me how much you need it.”

With a deliberate slowness that was both torturous and electrifying, he slipped a finger inside you. You cried out, the feeling of him filling you causing your body to arch off the bed. He started a slow, steady rhythm, his finger curling inside you to hit that spot that made you see stars.

“God, you’re so tight,” he murmured, adding a second finger. He moved them in and out of you, his pace unhurried, savoring the way you responded to his touch. “I could do this all night.”

You bit your lip, trying to hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. But the pleasure was too intense, too consuming. With a cry, you came undone, your body trembling as you climaxed around his fingers.

He watched you intently, a satisfied smirk on his lips. “So beautiful,” he murmured, his fingers still moving inside you, prolonging your pleasure.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the aftershocks of your orgasm still rippling through your body. “Satoru, please,” you whispered, your voice filled with need.

He grinned, his eyes dark with desire. “Don’t worry,” he said,

Without warning, he withdrew his fingers and shifted lower on the bed. His hands gripped your thighs, spreading them wide as he settled between them. The sight of him there, eyes dark with desire, made your heart race.

He leaned in, his breath hot against your sensitive skin. “I bet you taste even better than you feel,” he murmured, and then his mouth was on you.

His tongue flicked out, teasing your clit with feather-light strokes that made you shiver. He started slow, savoring every reaction you gave him, before gradually increasing the pressure and speed. Your hips bucked against his mouth, a moan slipping from your lips as he licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Fuck, Satoru,” you gasped, your fingers tangling in his hair as you tried to hold on.

He hummed in response, the vibration sending waves of pleasure through your body. “You taste so good,” he muttered, his words muffled against your skin. He sucked your clit into his mouth, his tongue circling it in a way that made your toes curl.

You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, the tension building with every skilled movement of his tongue. He alternated between sucking and licking, his fingers slipping back inside you, pumping in rhythm with his mouth.

“More,” you pleaded, your voice trembling with need. “Please, Satoru.”

He looked up at you, his eyes locking with yours as he continued his relentless assault. “You like that?” he asked, his voice husky with arousal.

“Yes,” you moaned, your head falling back against the pillow. “Don’t stop.”

He grinned, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you. His tongue moved faster, his fingers curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made you see stars. The combination of his mouth and fingers was overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re so close, aren’t you?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You nodded, unable to form coherent words as the pleasure built to an almost unbearable level. “Please,” you gasped, your body arching off the bed. “I’m gonna—”

“Come for me,” he commanded, his voice a low growl. “I want to taste you.”

With a final, shuddering cry, you came undone, your orgasm crashing over you in waves. Your body trembled, your hands gripping his hair as you rode out the pleasure. He didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working you through every pulse and shiver, prolonging your release until you were a quivering mess beneath him.

Finally, he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal. He looked up at you, a satisfied smirk on his face. “You’re even more beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice rough with desire.

You lay there, panting and spent, your body still humming with aftershocks. “Satoru,” you murmured, reaching out for him.

He crawled back up your body, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the intimacy of it making your heart ache. “I’m not done with you yet,” he whispered against your lips. “Not even close.”

He pulled back from the kiss, his breath hot against your lips as he murmured, “Turn around.”

You blinked up at him, a slight frown of confusion crossing your features. “What?”

“Turn around,” he repeated, his voice firm but not unkind. “Gonna take you from behind like always.”

There was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that made your heart clench. But you complied, rolling over onto your stomach and then up onto your knees, your body still thrumming with the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm.

He positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips. You felt the tip of his cock brush against your entrance, teasing and relentless.

You moaned in response, your body arching back toward him. “Please, Satoru.”

Without another word, he pushed into you, filling you completely in one smooth thrust. You cried out, the sensation of him inside you overwhelming. He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the feeling before he started to move, his pace steady and controlled.

His hands tightened on your hips, holding you firmly in place as he fucked you. Each thrust was deep and precise, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your vision blur. “God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice low and rough. “So tight.”

You whimpered, your body moving in time with his, the pleasure building once again. “S’toru,” you gasped, your fingers gripping the sheets.

He leaned over you, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you? When I take you from behind?”

“Yes,” you moaned, your body trembling with each thrust. “I love it.”

“Good,” he growled, his pace quickening. “Because I want to hear you scream my name.”

You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. “Satoru,” you cried out, your voice breaking.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “Come for me. Let me feel you come around my cock.”

With a final, shuddering cry, you came undone, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm. He followed moments later, his own release spilling inside you as he groaned your name.

For a moment, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing, the feel of his weight pressing down on you. Then he pulled out and rolled onto his back, a satisfied smirk on his face.

You lay there, your body spent and trembling, your heart aching with a mixture of satisfaction and something more. “Satoru,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He looked over at you, his expression unreadable. “What is it?”

You hesitated, the words you wanted to say stuck in your throat. But in the end, you just shook your head. “Nothing,” you murmured, closing your eyes.

“Good,” he said, his voice distant. “Get some rest.”

And as you lay there, your body still humming with the afterglow of pleasure, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was all you would ever have with him. The physical connection was undeniable, but the emotional distance felt like an insurmountable chasm.

But for now, you would take what you could get. Because even if it was just physical for him, for you, it was something more. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Gojo’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He sighed, reaching over to grab it.

“Yeah?” he answered, his voice returning to that familiar, nonchalant tone.

You could hear a faint voice on the other end, though you couldn’t make out the words. Gojo’s expression shifted, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with a more serious look.

“Alright,” he said after a moment. “I’ll be there soon.” He ended the call and turned to you, his demeanor already changing.

“I have to go,” he said, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up.

“Now?” you asked, unable to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

“Yeah,” he replied, pulling on his clothes with practiced efficiency. “Work stuff.”

You watched him dress, the familiar ache in your chest growing stronger. He was always slipping away, always leaving you with just a taste of what you wanted.

“Will I see you later?” you asked, hating how vulnerable you sounded.

He paused, looking at you with an expression that was hard to read. “Sure,” he said, though the word felt empty. “You know where to find me.”

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Be safe.”

He gave you a quick nod, his usual smirk flickering across his lips. “Always am.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone in the dimly lit room. The silence felt deafening, the weight of his absence pressing down on you.

You sighed, pulling the sheets around you as you tried to gather your thoughts. The physical connection with Gojo was incredible, but it always left you wanting more, longing for something deeper that he seemed unwilling or unable to give

© fvsm4x 2023/4 : do not translate, plagiarise or steal my work.

[sebsbarnes]

too sweet || tangerine

tangerine x reader

summary: tangerine is strong and bitter, much like a neat whiskey but you were sweet, like an aged wine, and he wasn't use to that.

warnings: none

word count: 1.2k+

a/n: requested by @whimsical-roasting inspired by lyrics from hozier's new song too sweet :)

masterlist

tangerine was harsh, uninviting. rigid and stern. he wasn't one to make small talk with the store clerk or mutter a hello to the person walking past him on the street. that was him, and he was unapologetically himself. he didn't care nor did he want to be that person who was over-joyous to strangers, it didn't entice him. what would he gain from exposing pieces of himself? he becomes vulnerable and that wasn't a word tangerine would ever describe himself as.

you were warm, inviting. gentle and kind. you were one to chat with the store clerk and greet the person walking past on the street. that was you, unapologetically yourself. you wanted to be that person who engaged with strangers whenever possible. you would gain so much from sharing and exchanging pieces of yourself with others. you felt secure.

tangerine faults himself for breaking that day he met you. he often wonders why his eyes cast a glance at you, but they did and that simple movement upturned his life.

it was a long day, a day from hell, actually. tangerine was exhausted from work and found himself dragging his feet home. his head screamed in pain, his throat felt tight from dehydration, and his stomach was practically eating itself. the flickering neon light of the convenience store caught his attention and the metal bell announced his arrival in the store. he wandered to the drink cooler and stuffed his arms with anything that sounded appealing. tangerine wanted a real dinner but unfortunately that night the snack aisle would be a five-star meal.

"you can never go wrong with these," a voice spoke and tangerine saw a pointing hand come into his field of vision. he mumbled under his breath some sort of 'thank you' and grabbed the bag of crackers.

that's when he looked over. that's when he saw you. that's when tangerine's normal hard exterior soon chiseled away in your presence. he felt his shoulders relax and he stopped gritting his teeth when you looked back at him and smiled.

"if you want something more hardy they got killer snacks up at the register. i'll admit i'm almost a regular here because of them. it's a bit embarrassing but the workers are really cool," tangerine stood there and listened to you talk. he liked the way your lips pulled up into a smile and how animated your face became. perhaps it was the pure exhaustion from the day that wore him down and made him engage in a conversation with you, or maybe it was just your warm presence.

it wasn't long after that night in the convenience store that tangerine ran into you again. he didn't see you at first but rather heard you. your booming voice and infectious laugh carried its way over to him. he was on a walk, an exercise he enjoyed, when the breeze carried you to him. he paused on the sidewalk and in some measly attempt to stall, tangerine re-stretched his legs until you came closer.

'hey! i remember you, how were those snacks?"

tangerine pretended to be caught off guard at first before responding, "pretty fuckin' good, i can't lie."

"told you!" you laughed with a wave goodbye.

tangerine found himself cemented to the sidewalk watching the back of your head disappear into the day, your arms flailing as you spoke to the friend beside you, and your voice slowly drifting away.

this would keep happening, tangerine running into you in public every few days in different places. it confused him a bit, to the point he almost considered that you were some spy out to get him and his arm would subconsciously drift to the knife in his pocket. each time he would stop himself when you began to talk about the most mundane things and share little anecdotes about yourself with him, like how last night you burnt your dinner and ate a whole bag of wonton strips you found in the back of your pantry from a recipe you cooked a year ago or how earlier that day you stepped in dog poop and didn't realize until you tracked it into the store. tangerine loved hearing you overshare and how kind you treated him even when he was a stranger.

in the months to come you and tangerine turned these random run-ins into deliberate meetings. at the park, at the movies, at a restaurant, at his home. you would notice the glances from people when tangerine stood beside you or the raised brow when tangerine was short with conversation while you talked the person's ear off.

"i know i'm not the friendliest but at least i don't grimace in people's faces," tangerine chided.

you tsked, running a hand up and down his bicep, "oh tang, don't mind them. they just don't know you like i do."

but he did start to mind how others perceived him after the two of you started dating. most people knew how outgoing and sweet you were, but tangerine didn't want to taint the image of you with him by your side. he didn't want people to start believing you were also this cold, stern, person. you couldn't even be if you tried. not only this but he felt guilty hiding his job from you. had you been aware you wouldn't be with him. each day you prioritized the happiness of others and never acted with malice, he was the stark contrast. he hated how he was beginning to love the sweetness.

it was late, 3am to be exact, and the two of you were lying in bed. your legs wrapped around tangerine and his head propped up on the satin. the tv cast a glow onto the bed, the array of colors illuminating your skin. it was an action movie. fast-paced, big cars, bad people, and drugs. your hand was placed on tangerine's cheek, the small digit of your thumb caressing the empty space below his eye. a gun sounded and your body jolted, eyebrows pulled together at the sight of the body falling to the ground.

"that's so scary. i can't believe there are people out there who want to hurt others," you sighed.

tangerine stiffened. he could hear the beat of his heart drumming in his ears and the way his hands became clammy. he watched as the main character aimed his gun at another person and pulled the trigger with no hesitation. that was him. he was watching himself and without you even knowing, you were also watching him. who he really was.

"why's your heart beating so fast. you a lil scaredy cat hm?" you joked rubbing your palm on his chest.

tangerine stifled a fake laugh, "just gettin' nervous for him," he winced at how pitiful his excuse was but you didn't seem to catch on.

he felt sick. you were too sweet for him, like grapes at the bottom of a barrel, aging into a sweet wine. he was foul-mouthed, hot-headed, impolite, and dangerous. he wasn't meant for you, didn't deserve you. he only ever knew the bold and strong taste of a black coffee or a neat whiskey. he wasn't used to the sweet flavor.

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't raise no Bimbo Series!

Y/n was thrown head first into Hell - like everyone she has to find her own path and she was doing pretty darn good but what happens when she finally comes across the three Vee's who don't necessarily like to share...

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen / Part Fourteen / Part Fifteen / Part Sixteen

This was such a bad idea!

Such a bad idea! How did Angel Dust manage to convince you to do this was beyond you. But here you are gripping the handle of the front door of the Vee’s Tower.

“Oh, I’m just running a little late at work honey, meet me at the tower and we will head to the clubs from there,” you mocked under your breath as you turned the handle. Swear, if that Valentino tries to get you to join a porno you will kill Angel.

Deep breaths. Entering the main foyer, you squint because of all the damn bright lights, screens, and décor. Spying all the cameras you drag your coat closer to your body. No hiding from anyone here. You make your way up to the receptionist desk as instructed by your lovely ‘friend’.

“Hey sugar, I’m here to see Angel Dust, they’re expecting me don’t suppose you could tell me where I should be going could ya?” Giving your best winning smile at the bored receptionist, at her unimpressed flicker of her eyes going over your outfit and hair you could feel the smile start to strain. Like everyone, your appearance changed when you came to Hell, and you considered yourself lucky that you mainly had humanistic characteristics – the fangs, violet eyes, skin as white as snow and wicked pink highlights in your hair you just considered as an extra – it could be so much worse. You have seen much worse.

Smoothing your hands over the coat you let your smile drop and narrowed your eyes at the receptionist. Down here in Hell you were sure others just made situations difficult to be difficult. Actually… that was probably true. They were just the worst down here.

Popping her gum in your face you could feel your eyebrow start to twitch. Bitch. Tapping away on her keyboard she proceeds to ignore you for a few moments before pointing at a sign which told you which floors for what people. Seeing Valentino’s floor, you assume that’s where you should be heading. Thanking the receptionist – though she didn’t exactly do anything but affect your confidence in your outfit – you make your way over to the elevators, getting in as soon as one arrived and jabbing at Valentino’s floor.

Crossing your fingers you wouldn’t meet that particular Overlord, considering the receptionist was a pain in the ass you could only imagine what he would be like and from the horror stories Angel Dust told you – you really didn’t wanna meet him.

Reaching the floor quicker than you expected you straighten out your outfit, slightly regretting the black stilettos but they were the only decent heels you have in your closet for dancing, plus the neon pink on the base matched your accessories and splashes of colour on your dress. You fully embraced the image that you were a bimbo, it helped with tips and your image at work. As a singer and a dancer at one of the clubs on Pride Circle, the dumber you appeared the more people underestimated you. And you just loved it when they underestimated you.

It's where you met Angel Dust, in one of the first clubs that you were working at. Through him you then met Alastor who after hearing you sing a few older songs then allowed you to sing on his Radio Show (on occasion) and from him you then met Rosie who put in a good word for you with your now current boss at one of the more respectable (using that term loosely) clubs in Pride Circle. Which is the only reason why you would enter the Vee’s Tower – you owed Angel Dust a lot this was a small ask.

Stepping onto Valentino’s floor the smell of smoke, sex and sweat hit you like a wall. Flickering your violet eyes around you spied the Spider speaking to the Overlord. Damn. Seeing that the conversation wouldn’t be ending any time soon you huffed under your breath before making your way to them.

“Angel, sugar, you ready to go?” You ask when you reach the two, keeping your gaze on him as from the corner of your eye you see the tall Overlord swivel on the spot. Angel’s eyes connect with yours before trying to hide a grimace.

“Heyyy gorgeous, listen it’s gonna be a little later than we planned I’ve just gotta film one more scene then we can go”, catching the mouthed sorry at the end. Smiling understandingly at him you shrug your shoulders.

“Oh no problemo honey, want me to stay or I can meet you at the club?” secretly crossing your fingers that they’d say to meet you at the club.

“Ah no it’s cool if you stay, right Val? Y/n can stay for the last scene?” Bugger. Turning your winning smile up at the infamous Valentino only to see their stare was focused on you already with an menacing smile pulling his face into a sinister expression which made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on end.

“Ah the famous Y/n, Angel talks about you all the time – don’t you baby! Course you can stay and watch. What about if you participate as well, I could get you a job princessa, with those legs, boobs and that pout you are a star waiting to happen. I could get a contract written up in seconds if you want-“He pulls a deep drag from his cigarette and blows it all around so you three were in a cloud of hazy red smoke. Holding back a cough you try to keep the smile on your lips.

“Thank you for the offer, Sir, but I am happy with my job at the moment but as soon as I want a change in career, I’ll let you know”, I reply to the Overlord. A bead of sweat drips down the back of my neck. Valentino’s anger was legendary. To refuse him was to insult him. And you had done all that within a few moments of meeting him. Plus being close to Angel Dust was another factor against you – he was so jealous over Angel.

His smirk grew as he gazed over your outfit. Well, a smirk was better than shouting, right?

“Shame. You could be a star,” another drag of his cigarette before shrugging you off and directing Angel back to the stage. Quickly winking at the spider, you make your way over to a few chairs that were against the wall. Shrugging your coat off you turn to see a few creeps eyeing you up, bloody perverts. Baring your fangs at them you sit down and yank your phone out from your purse.  

A sigh leaves your lips, crossing your leg over the other, you peruse Sinstagram while trying to block out the sounds coming from Angel and the other demons and sinners in the scene. Checking on the progress of a few photos of the outfit that you shared earlier of what you were wearing tonight which you had tagged in Velvette as she was the designer of your dress: a tight black dress with stripes of neon pink, ruffles of the neon around the off-shoulder neckline and other intricate details – it reminded you of Marilyn Monroes pink dress, so you had saved up for months to buy it. The almost velvet material clung to your curves in the most delicious way and the colours just accentuated your hair, skin, and eyes. If no one could tell - you just loved pink and again it helped the Bimbo image you put across.

Brushing the waves of hair out of your face you look up and again see a certain Overlord’s stare focused on you, his own phone clutched in his hand. Careful not to challenge him by looking at him head on you keep your gaze soft and lowered.  The issue with Valentino was he didn’t always accept no as an answer. And you were so not ready to become a porn star. To be honest since arriving in Hell you hadn’t even entertained any one in your bed. More concerned with getting somewhere safe to live, safe(ish) to work and try not to get mauled, raped or murdered every day seemed to take up your energy. Which is why Angel wanted to go out tonight – to try and get you laid. Chuckling softly as you remembered his horrified face when you said you hadn’t had sex in over a year you let your violet gaze glance over to him. Wincing slightly at the position he was in at the moment, which really could not be comfortable, you let your attention go back to your phone ignoring both the Overlord and Angel as a slight vibrate notified you that a certain Vee had liked your post.

Your mouth opens in shock when you see THE Velvette had liked your photo. Heart racing a little you couldn’t control the smile that stretched across your lips, holding in the little squeal you desperately wanted to let out you settled for giving a little excited wiggle in your seat. Or you were until a shadow encased you. Looking up you lock eyes with the main V. Vox. Uh oh. “And who is this lovely lady, Val?”

Sooooo ... for a first chapter what did ya thinkkkkkk?

A03 Link is here

[hitlikehammers]

take the call

rating: t ♥️ cw: off-screen car accident (but EVERYTHING IS FINE), hurt/comfort, softness ♥️ tags: established relationship, married steddie, hurt/comfort, rockstar Eddie/teacher Steve, Steve's heart of gold is very possibly going to be Eddie's undoing one of these days, well-worn-soul-deep love

for @steddielovemonth day eighteen: Love is terrifying (@starryeyedjanai)

set in the 00s, with Steve and Eddie having two decades of loving under their belts, now ♥️

Eddie isn’t expecting a call, any call, really; he’s in the studio, like, if he gets a call someone takes a message or whatever.

And in fairness, Eddie doesn’t get the call.

He gets a message.

“Eddie?”

He rolls his eyes kinda automatically, kinda thoughtlessly at the cut of the audio track to let the mic system override from outside the booth.

“Okay, so, like, don’t freak out.”

He’s not thoughtless at all about the way he clocks the tension in Jeff’s voice even across the speaker system; it’s entirely automatic how he freezes, how he looks up and locks eyes with his friend through the glass and sucks in a sharp breath for the look on his face: pained.

Maybe, maybe scared.

Eddie’s heart drops somewhere near his knees, but beats there so fucking hard.

“This lady called, and she said she found Lainie’s card inside the case of a phone she picked up,” and okay, okay, that’s…that’s random but maybe it’s about their assistance manger, who just got her contract confirmed and got fancy new business cards for it and has been handing them out to everybody she sees, even gave Eddie extras to pass on to Steve, maybe he can share them at the school as if anyone at even a hoity-toity private 6-through-12 school would have a reason for a card from a record label but she’s excited, and Eddie’s excited for her, and Steve loves the people Eddie works with, and not just because they’re attached to Eddie and he loves the things that come with Eddie as a given—but that’s also true, and always has been, but—

“She, um,” Jeff’s voice is filtering through again, and Eddie clocks that there’s…there’s something more to it, more than his brain’s willing to grasp just yet but his body’s apparently picked up on because he thinks the slightest breeze would knock him over and shatter him into pieces, for the tightness in his body; he’s not focused enough to count the separate beats of his pulse but he can tell it’s quick enough already, still weighed down near his feet, that counting would be kinda hard, would take effort:

“She found the phone at a car crash?”

So: the more-to-it. The thing his body already knew.

Eddie…Eddie doesn’t even need to know what comes next to know he cannot fucking breathe.

“Sounded kinda like, uh, like it could have been Steve’s phone,” Jeff is trying to tell him, and part of Eddie hears it, part of him does but most of him is white noise, is pins-and-needles, is underwater and drowning and not even fucking thinking of fighting the pull because he can’t, he’s heavy at the legs and his lungs are seizing and there’s, he’s—

“Because it, umm, she found the card because the case was broken?” and just last night Eddie’d watched Steve pop off the case and slide the cards behind with a laugh and a promise to take them with him not today—because it’s one of those federal holidays that only schools notice happening, like the post office is still open—but definitely tomorrow, never knew which of the kiddos at the Rich People School might be a budding metalhead underneath their uniforms—

“And she said the case was, um, like bright—“

Green.

Electric lime neon fuckin’ green because after three times of Eddie taking Steve’s phone by accident he’d come home with that endearing eyesore, and a kiss to the bridge of Eddie’s nose and a soft hard to confuse that, babe nuzzled against him and—

“It could maybe have just been a coincide—“ Jeff’s talking but Eddie can’t fucking hear it, not really, not when he’s letting the door slam behind him and ripping off his headphones to drop to the groundnut when he’s gasping hard enough to crack a rib, not when the floor’s gone out from underneath him and his vision’s tunneled and nothing seems real, and everything feels too real, every world ending possibility shuddering through his foggy mind alongside every heartbreakingly perfect memory blossoming up unbidden just to serve as a reminder, an underscoring of what he stands to lose, what maybe he’s already fucking lost—

He meets Jeff’s eyes without the glass between them as he grabs his keys from his jacket on the couch and makes himself take the breath that’ll fuel the voice, that’ll give him words, just one word, he needs, he fucking needs—

“Where?”

_______________________

Eddie shouldn’t have driven himself, he knows that.

Like, on some other plane of existing, he’s sure he knows that.

But on this plane, he rips past his bandmates, all the extra people with them for recording, jams the close-door button before anyone can follow him into the elevator because he happens to know this one’s quicker than the stairs even on a good day, and this—

Eddie’s shaking so goddamn hard he can barely get one foot in front of the other, he really doesn’t think he can manage ten fucking flights of steps.

He burns rubber on the way out of the parking lot, and the nearest hospital to where Steve would have been—on his day off, because holiday, he’d have bene close to home, he mentioned food shopping, he thought he might make stir-fry but he wasn’t sure, they hadn’t made a vegetable haul from the Asian market downtown in a couple weeks and they need to, they need to but Steve wasn’t feeling like going on his own, because he might not say it out loud but they both know he enjoys Eddie’s excitability when new items hit the shelves and he can’t read the language they’re labelled in so he guesses frantically until the man who owns the place takes pity, only laughs a little and explains what this spice is for, or that that crazy looking thing’s a fruit, and they ultimately buy whatever it is because Eddie wants to try it now, because he got invested and—

Eddie should pull off the fucking road; his head’s a mess, he can’t see for the way his eyes are welling, streaming, the way he’s shaking with sobs that don’t exactly burst forth, just leak from his lashes as he trembles horrifically because…

Because they were maybe gonna have stir-fry, tonight. Even without the good vegetables.

They were—

Eddie thinks it’s fucking cruel, kind of unbearably so, that his brain’s dead-set on still processing the mundane little perfections of his life as if every single one of them might be dashed to pieces, might be hanging by a thread, might be entirely fucking gone, and he, he…

He can’t. He just, he fucking can’t.

Because that the thing, isn’t it: the scenarios he’s imagining aren’t hypothetical—they’re all memories, too. Steve bloodied, Steve bruised, Steve’s bones broken and flesh torn. Steve still, too still; Steve’s skin under Eddie’s hands when he can’t find a pulse because Eddie’s shaking, same as now how Eddie is fucking shaking—

Eddie knows all those things. They’re so long ago, now, so distant but his fucking cells will never forget every single moment he saw the man he loves bigger than his own goddamn life hurt like that; be risked like that. Be lost like—

And that’s the difference. That’s what is unravelling him as he speeds through the streets quicker than he should, probably breaking more laws than he could count and definitely more than he gives a shit to notice: it’s the losing.

Because the first times, even the times that came after Steve was his: they didn’t come with the loss of so much time, so much of themselves, so much glorious life that they’d built between them, the struggles and the triumphs, the hard choices and the easy things that weren’t choices at all: everything hand-in-hand, every night spent curled around each other, all of them, all of him, inside that chest since he was twenty fucking year old, and Eddie doesn’t just not know how to be outside of what he shares with Steve.

Eddie doesn’t think his own heart can survive, if if Steve’s isn’t next to him.

Eddie’s damn fucking sure no part of him would want to.

It takes him a minute to steady himself enough to get out of the car, once he finally reaches the ER. Steady his body, but more his fucking soul because the whole of him is shaking, is crying out, is wailing unfettered and breaking because he’s terrified, he is goddamn terrified of what he’s going to find when he walks in but he has to, he has to because whatever awaits him, that’s his husband, that is the love of his whole goddamn life and if the worst is going to come for him he’ll face it like he’s faced everything else: at Steve Harrington’s side.

If the worst comes for one of them, then it came for them both.

So he’s stumbling, shuddering, but resolute in his chest when he flies through the sliding doors, eyes still swimming, unfocused but he makes himself take a deep breath—it takes a few tries, and he doesn’t quite succeed, it’s still a tremorous thing and his lungs are still in revolt, but it’s something, and he’ll take something; he has to to take something—

“Eddie?”

He almost doesn’t register it, the voice from the sick-spiral of his memories, all the love on the table to be forfeit—

He almost doesn’t register that his name’s not coming from inside his head.

“Oh my god, what happened?” There’s a flurry over motion in front of him, and he blinks rapidly to try and pin it down because it looks familiar, it smells familiar, it aches familiar in his chest but:

“What is it, what’s wrong?” and fuck, it feels familiar when a hand reaches for his cheek where it’s still damp, tacky for the tears; when another hand slides itself into Eddie’s and draws him in, a hand that fits like no other hand in this world or any other, ever—

“Are you okay?”

And the hand on his cheek turns him and follows his eyes and it takes that long for him to clear his vision properly, but now he’s just blinking so much because that, that can’t be, even if it feels in every goddamn way like it really is, but it can’t…

It can’t be Steve here, whole and on his feet and looking at Eddie with so much worry, so much heart as he tilts Eddie’s chin a little this way, that way, squints to try and see…something.

Eddie’s breath tears out of him in a wet fucking gasp;

“Am I okay?”

Because Eddie’s really not the one to fucking worry about here, Steve had—

“You’re in a hospital, Eds, that’s not usually where you go when you’re okay,” Steve’s eyes widen as he he slides both hands now to Steve’s head, holding him still and assessing…something, maybe, Jesus: Eddie doesn’t know, but he does know that the touch on him now makes his…makes his heart feel safe and he’d been fucking terrified he’d never feel that again.

“Fuck, what happened, baby, did you hit your,” and fingers are dancing gentle across points on Eddie’s skull, so delicate and careful and he can’t fucking help it—

“Are you real?”

Because he needs to know, he needs to know with words because this feels…this feels right and warm and impossible but also true, so.

He needs to know. “Am I…?” Steve’s lips part and his brow furrows before his jaw clenches in that dependable way he has of squaring up to the monster at hand, no matter the kind.

“Shit,” he breathes out slow but then he nods: resolved; “shit, okay. Okay, let’s find—“

“You are real,” and it turns out Eddie didn’t actually need him to say it. He just needed to see the flash in Steve’s eyes when he was ready to take on the world for the sake of love, the way he positions himself a little different in front of Eddie as he keeps one hand at Eddie’s cheek but then slides to brace more at his neck, purposeful, like he’s splinting a wound or something, and then a hand grabs for Eddie’s own again and: oh.

Oh yes. That is Steve Harrington, living and breathing and solid and real, because no one else protects like this.

No one.

Eddie’s heart stumbles, jackrabbits around a little, almost like a reset: like it knows as the implications sink in to Eddie’s mind that it’s not destined to break anymore.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees too easily, distracted as he tugs the gentlest bit at Eddie’s hand, toward the nurse’s station; “yeah, and we should—“

“And you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve shrugs it off, but Eddie…Eddie’s vision is clearing. His pulse is settling. He can hear above the static and his limbs are getting lighter.

“You’re one-hundred-percent okay, not a scratch on you, not a single thing wrong,” he needs to make sure, like, so fucking sure.

“I am fine, Eddie,” Steve turns to look him straight on, exasperated and anxious and vibrant with it, so alive in it; “but you’re—“

Eddie’s hand moves almost without his conscious consent, definitely without a plan to grab at Steve’s arm and pinch his skin because Eddie was vaguely toying with the idea of pinches himself, and maybe with poking Steve a few extra times to make sure he didn’t disappear, but apparently his brain landed on: pinch Steve, avoid confirmation bias if your head wants to lie enough to make him real just you you, because you need him that bad.

Steve startles, and turns those beautiful brilliant bronze eyes on Eddie, stretches wide as he gapes a little at his husband.

Eddie…Eddie is here, in front of his living-breathing-gorgeously-aghast husband.

“Okay, oww,” Steve drops Eddie’s hand and pulls back, leaving Eddie’s head to its own devices as he looks a little shocked, shooting just shy of a glare Eddie’s way: full of questions.

Eddie—now that the biggest one’s solved, and solved so perfect, so gentle and sure and he doesn’t have to bury the soul of him; he doesn’t have to bury his soul—but now?

Eddie also has some fucking questions.

“Where’s your phone?” seems the most relevant to start with.

Steve blinks, frowns a little:

“It got lost in the crash—“

“Crash?” Eddie’s tone pitches up to squeak a little because: Steve’s here and whole in from of him, yes. But fuck, there was still a crash? He was—

“Not mine, my car’s still parked at fucking Jiffy Lube,” Steve adds with a huff; “I saw it happen so I stopped and—“

And Eddie knows his husband. He knows his husband better than he knows himself, and Eddie’s kinda made it a point of pride for how self-aware he’s grown to be these days, in living this life and loving Steve beyond the bounds of living at all. But he knows his Steve, and so he knows damn well what happened.

Car runs into car. Steve sees it and jumps out to help. Because Steve Harrington is a protector. Steve Harrington is a helper. Steve Harrington is the best man Eddie’s ever known.

Soon as he jumped into the fray, he wouldn’t have thought once about a fucking phone.

And Eddie, Eddie just, he needs to—

He grabs Steve’s hands and wraps them around his own waist, lets them go and then pulls Steve tight to his chest and buries his face in Steve’s shoulder as Eddie winds his way around his husband, feels him breathing, feels the tickle of his hair.

“You’re gonna kill me, Stevie,” Eddie whimpers, that going tight now all over again:

“You’ve got the biggest heart of fucking gold the world’s ever seen,” he moans into Steve’s collar; “and you’re going to fucking kill me.”

Steve doesn’t say anything, but his hands move up to rub Eddie’s back, rote and learned and he might not wholly get, yet, what Eddie’s putting together, and where Eddie’s head’s been, what his heart’s been through, but the first thing he knows, and does like clockwork, is to love of his partner, to soothe him even if he doesn’t know what for.

“Someone found your phone, and they, umm,” Eddie licks his lips, takes a suffering breath and tries to straighten but he’s not ready, not yet: he slumps right back onto Steve’s shoulder:

“They called the studio.”

“Shit,” Steve hisses, bunches his hands in Eddie’s shirt and draws him tighter to his chest: “shit, they interrupted,” and oh, fuck no, fuck regretting the interruption—

“They told me they found it at a crash site,” Eddie grits out, the hurt of it still raw, like just saying the words no matter where they landed in trust, just recalling those minutes that felt like full nightmarish lifetimes, reopens the tender wounds it’d left in hims; “they found it with the case broken,” and Steve leans back, then, eyes saucers as he meets Eddie’s gaze, breath catches harsh.

“Oh,” Steve whispers, eyes darting back and forth between Eddie’s, taking the whole of him in and then he exhales so heavy:

“Oh, babe,” he murmurs, fucking mournful before he takes his hands and links them behind the base of Eddies’ skull and draws him in to the center of his chest, envelopes him there whole: “come here.”

And Eddie falls into that chest—rising-falling-living—he falls into Steve so fucking fast

“I am totally fine, I promise you,” Steve breathes again Eddie’s ear, close and dear and real: “car’s fine—“

“I don’t fucking care about the car—“ Eddie tenses up, appalled at the implication that he gave one single goddamn thought to the car— “No, like, as proof,” Steve’s quick to correct him, to ease the hackles on him; “I wasn’t in the crash, but it was pretty bad and,” Steve shrugs a little then adds soft: “I keep my first aid certs up to date for a reason, I figure, right?”

Jesus; yes, okay. Steve’s savior complex had largely mellowed to a non-interdimensional-threat level with time but he’s meticulous about keeping every skillset he’d gone out of his way to learn from professionals before they’d gone up against the Upside Down for the last time sharp and at the ready for anything: even now.

Fuck, but this beautiful, brilliant, impossible man.

“I was helping, best I could, until the EMTs got there,” Steve tells him softly, fills in the gaps because he knows Eddie’s mind, all the pictures it paints for itself, and in times like these it’s always the worst possible pictures—he knows Eddie needs the slate wiped clean with the truths, blessedly softer, in this:

“Police wanted me to stick around for a statement but the girl who was driving the first car, she was so panicked and she didn’t want to go alone so, umm,” Steve huffs a little, shifts against Eddie gentle and solid and here: “she said she knew me, she was pretty desperate I think, so I rode here with her,” and of course he did, of course he did because he’s Steve; “now I’m just waiting to make sure she gets out of surgery okay,” he squeezes Eddie then, like a punctuation, and it feels so, so fucking good; “also still have to give the goddamn statement, but fuck knows that’s just hurry-up-and-wait,” he turns, and he kisses Eddie’s hair then and Eddie feels something snap in him, give way and the lingering tension spill from his frame as he gasp a little on a breathy exhale:

“I love you so much,” and he does, god: god, but how much he loves this man.

“I love you too, baby,” Steve mouths against his head and Eddie closes his eyes and nuzzles his a little closer as he puts it into words, because it feels like he needs to, it feels like in Steve’s arms like this, pressed up close to him to feel this undeniable life in him: it feels like the coast is clear enough to risk it, to confess:

“I was so fucking scared,” and the words only break a little, and that’s more than Eddie honestly expected.

“I am so sorry,” Steve bows his chin down to graze lips against Eddie’s hairline, delicate and intimate and shivery, trembly down Eddie’s spin for the best of reasons, now.

“Not your fault,” Eddie’s quite to counter, to make clear, because: “shit, you didn’t do anything, I just…”

Eddie makes himself pull back and meet Steve’s eyes, reaches out to frame his face, dear and desperate:

“I can’t lose you,” he moans a little, begs a little, says it with a bare line of something primal echoing in it, scraped straight from his bones: “I cannot ever lose you.”

“I know,” Steve turns and kisses one of his palms, and those two words hold the promise of five more they’ve said so many times, and held so true between them for so many year, through so fucking much:

It’s the same for me.

And to be loved the same as he loves is a fucking privilege; it’s heady and it’s wonderful and Eddie needs it, needs Steve, more than goddamn air.

“Sit with me?” Steve covers Eddie’s hands with his at his cheeks, and nods a little toward the blessedly-quiet collection of chairs by the windows; “while I wait?”

“Nowhere else I’d go,” Eddie says it like the given that it is, and pulls Steve close to kiss him full, to press his lips to Steve’s and drink his warmth, his breath, to feel it sink int past his heart and pump through his veins:

“Not ever, Stevie,” he speaks against Steve’s lips, all of him in it, every vow inside it:

“Not ever.”

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland @dreamwatch @perseus-notjackson

♥️

divider credit here

[milksnake-tea]

━━ duty calls.

Created around the same time and having trained with one another, you and Casper have always butted heads. You'd compete over seemingly anything - how many souls one could reap, the days one could go without catching soul sickness, and the list goes on. Casper has always found you to be obnoxious, but when he sees you crying by yourself, he finds himself torn.

grim x gn!reaper!reader

contains: fluff, hurt/comfort, set before the main storyline, reader is NOT the mc, brief mentions of child death, USAGE OF GRIM'S REAL NAME, reader is a little shit

word count: 4.2k

a/n: FORGIVE ME IF THE WORLDBUILDING IS OFF I WAS TRYING MY BEST and ive only done one ending oops (finals hurts okay :((( ) also ... im not sure if reapers names are classified just to mortals and not other reapers but ykw imma take my liberties

"Seriously, do you ever get tired?"

Casper groaned irritatedly, running a hand through his snow-like hair. Blood like rust coated his scythe, spoils from his most recent hunt. The corpse still lay fresh in front of him, but their skin was cold and their eyes dead.

Boisterous laughter erupted above him. Sitting on the balcony of some person’s apartment, you grinned down at him - that infuriating, shit-eating grin that never failed to tick him off.

You kicked your legs childishly as you leaned back over the railing. Nestled against the crook of your arm was a scythe similar to his own, save for the more detailed design and color palette. Unlike him, you would constantly say, you liked to live a little.

Bold words coming from a bringer of death.

“Don’t blame me for you being slow,” you called down to him. Casper rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he glared up at you.

“I am not ‘slow’,” he grumbled. “You’re too eager. And get down from there, you’ll be spotted.”

You tilted your head. “It’s like, 3 A.M. What kind of idiot’s gonna be awake at this hour?”

“You’d be surprised. Humans will do anything but take care of themselves.”

“I guess,” you sighed, jumping down. You twirled your scythe absentmindedly, Casper leaning back to avoid getting hacked to pieces.

“Be careful with that,” he scolded. You, of course, ignored him.

“So are these the last of the guys?” you wondered, kicking at a corpse with your foot.

The alleyway was practically lined with bodies, so many that management had called upon both you and Casper to deal with the remnants of the massacre. Gang fights were a pain to deal with, second only to pandemics and war.

“It would seem so.” Casper gave you a look, to which you responded by sticking out your tongue. You were very mature, after all.

You stretched thankfully, rolling out your shoulder. “Thank God, I was starting to get depressed from all the dead people.”

“If you’re getting depressed from just this, perhaps you should consider a different career choice.”

“Nah.” You smiled. “If I left, who would I bully? You’d get all sad and lonely without me.”

“Hardly,” Casper scoffed. “If anything, I’d be relieved.”

“You wound me.”

“Good.”

“So mean,” you pouted. Casper paid you no attention, as per usual. It didn’t matter, though, since you immediately perked back up. “Hey, boo?”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“I have an idea.” And just like that, your cheshire grin returned. Casper sighed, already beginning to walk off.

“How wonderful,” he said sarcastically. “Share it with someone else.”

“Uh-uh, no.” As quick as a flash, your scythe was out, the blade curving in front of Casper to prevent his escape. “This one’s good, I swear.”

“Your definition of what is and isn’t a good idea needs some desperate fixing.” Still, he made no move to escape, instead turning around to face you.

“Let’s race.”

Casper raised a brow. “Race?”

You nodded eagerly, your eyes shining like jewels. In the darkness of the alleyway, the two of you were illuminated only by the neon blue lights of the city. Yet, as that same blue was captured in your eyes, Casper was reminded of a kaleidoscope, changing and turning in a multitude of different colors.

It was… captivating.

“If I win, you have to buy me a drink.” 

Casper snapped out of his daze, a light flush blooming across his fair skin. Thankfully, though, you didn’t seem to notice, too entranced by another one of your ridiculous competitions. Seriously, there had to be a limit to how unprofessional you could be.

“You assume I have the time to buy you one,” he said with faux calmness, grateful for the night’s shadows hiding his complexion. You huffed.

“You could do it while you’re rebalancing yourself,” you said, as though it was obvious. “Besides, it doesn’t have to be anything big, just a coffee or a tea would be nice.”

“Fine, let’s say I stoop down to your level and agree to this… race,” said Casper. “What do I get if I win?”

You shrugged. “Then I'll just buy you a drink.”

Casper shook his head. “I’m not like you. I don’t drink on the job.”

“But you do cuddle an axolotl plushie when you sleep,” you pointed out. Instantly, Casper flushed red.

“Wha- What does that have to do with anything?!” he protested.

"I just thought about it randomly," you shrugged. "But seriously, that thing is huge, where did you get it?"

“Never mind how I got it," Casper crossed his arms and averted his eyes, his bottom lip turning up in a pout. “We’re getting off track.”

“Oh, so now you care about my games,” you teased. “Anyways, on how I’ll reward you…”

You spun your scythe back to your side, tapping its staff against the ground as you thought of a fitting reward.

“Oh! How about this?” You snapped your fingers, a figurative light bulb lighting up next to you. “You get to cash in one favor from me.”

“Any favor?” A smirk creeped onto Casper’s face, his interest finally piqued. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, [Name].”

“As long as it’s within reason and isn’t embarrassing,” you snapped, crossing your arms. “If you make me kiss your feet or something like that, I’ll kick your ass.”

“Of course,” Casper chuckled knowingly. “So, where to and when are we racing?”

“Hey, if you weren’t paying attention to the rules, then that's your fault. As for when the race starts, how about… now.”

“Wha- Hey!” Casper barely dodged as you shot past him in a blur of black. Hooking your scythe into the walls, you stuck out your tongue at him as you propelled yourself through the night.

“So long, Casp!”

Casper cursed under his breath. Quickly, he made haste to follow you. He flew through the air like a bird, twisting around light poles, skyscrapers, and billboards alike.

You weren’t as elegant, instead jumping from building to building like a modern superhero. You’d catapult yourself through the sky using your scythe as leverage, your laughter echoing in the slumbering city - free like the wind.

Casper didn’t have to follow you long to know where you were heading towards. Invisible to the mortal eye, yet painfully obvious to the eyes of reapers, was an entrance to the Underworld, a whirlpool of black and red that led straight down to your home.

As you launched yourself into the air once again, Casper came up next to you, his hair billowing in the cold night wind like smoke.

“Nice of you to join me,” you teased, elbowing him in the side. Casper rolled his eyes once again, speeding up. “Hey!”

Smoky tendrils of crimson and ink curled around your figures as the two of you neared the portal. The center of the whirlpool was a void seemingly leading to the abyss itself, but you’ve worked in this job long enough to know just what lay beneath.

True to his character, Casper wasted no time and shot straight into the thick of it. You, on the other hand, were a little more dramatic with your landing.

You spun in a backflip off of the last of the skyscrapers before letting gravity take you for a ride. Wind whistled past your ears as you fell, yet all you could hear was the rapid thump of your own heart. Adrenaline filled your veins. Soon, black and red lined your vision as the Underworld engulfed you.

The second you saw the tips of red-stained towers, you flipped yourself to face the ground. Closer and closer, you could practically taste it. If you delayed any longer, your life as a grim reaper could end prematurely.

Like the eyes of a devil, your pupils glowed in delight, activating your abilities. But rather than slowing your descent, you sped it up, shooting towards the ground like a missile.

Black blobs, the fuzzy images of your coworkers, scrambled to move out of your way. Turning your body, you landed hard on your heels, narrowly missing a fellow reaper.

For a moment, all you could see was dust. Before the clouds could disappear, you shook off the sting in your ankles and stretched.

“Woo!” you cheered, kicking your leg. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Quiet down.” Casper grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. “Honestly, is there ever a quiet moment with you?”

You giggled. “Boo, you’ve known me long enough to know the answer to that. Oh, by the way, I’m craving some-”

“Hold it.” Casper bonked your head. “I only agreed to buy you something if you won.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No you didn’t,” Casper retorted. “Anyone with working eyes could see that I reached the ground before you did. Therefore, I won.”

“Uh, no.” You crossed your arms. “Are you gaslighting me? You’re gaslighting me. That's not very nice of you, Casp.”

“I am not gaslighting you.” Your white-haired coworker rolled his eyes. “As grim reapers, we cannot lie. Someone of your caliber should know this.”

You blinked innocently. “Did you just compliment me?”

Casper spluttered. “What in the world made you come to that conclusion?”

Taking a step forward, you leaned towards the reaper, a cheeky smile growing on your face. “You said ‘Someone of your caliber’. That means you think I’m capable.”

“You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to be incompetent after working as a reaper for so long,” Casper crossed his arms, fighting down the blush rising onto his cheeks. You were close, way too close. “Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised, seeing as how that was the only thing you heard from what I said.”

Heaving a sigh, he pushed you away with his finger.

“But don’t distract yourself from the fact that I won the race,” he said, a smug smirk replacing his exasperation.

“I was honestly trying to forget.”

Casper huffed, a pout forming on his lips. But the moment wouldn’t last long, as a ding sounded from both of your phones. When you checked it, you groaned when you saw a notification of unexpected emergency.

“Seriously?” you complained. “Overtime? Did a bunch of reapers die off or something? My soul’s going to get tainted at this rate.”

“Don’t complain.” Casper nudged you, but even you could see the irritation on his face. “It’s our job as reapers to reap souls on time, no matter what.”

“I guess. Still doesn’t make it any less annoying.”

“Agreed.” With a sigh, Casper summoned his scythe. “I must be off, now. See you on the other side, [Name].”

As he made his way back to the opening of the portal, his feet lifting off from the ground, a gloved hand reached out to grasp your chin. Gently, he guided you to look at him as he ascended.

“I look forward to cashing in on that favor.”

━

For as long as you could remember, things have always been this way.

Your earliest memory was of waking up to the crimson skies of the Underworld. Unaware and unknowing, you allowed yourself to be dragged around by older reapers, their voices blurring together in a droning buzz. Everything had gone by so quickly, and you struggled to keep up with it all.

If you were to say it bluntly, your first day felt like a fever dream.

But amidst the chaos, the tutorials, and the gifting of your first scythe, there was one thing that you remembered clearly.

“...Snow.”

Your mentor’s lecture halted at your voice, barely audible. They followed your gaze to a white-haired man, looking to be around the same age as you. Like a drowsy child, you lifted your finger and pointed at him, looking back to your mentor.

“He’s like snow.”

Their eyes softened by the tiniest bit, having seemingly realized that you were still disorientated. After all, in a sense, you had just been born.

“I suppose he is.” Putting a hand on your shoulder, they guided you away from the man. “Now, as I was saying…”

Their voice faded away into the background as the white-haired man noticed your gaze. He turned to look at you, his ruby-like eyes like blood speckles against the winter landscape. You stared at each other for only a few seconds before you turned to follow your mentor.

You quickly forgot the pretty stranger, but you would stay in his memories for quite a while before you’d cross paths again. In the darkness of the Underworld, you were like a lantern - radiating warmth and familiarity.

You were beautiful, like a flower in summer. That was, until he met you for the second time.

Swiftly and ruthlessly, holding true to your occupation as a reaper, you cut apart any premonitions he had had about you. When you were put against him to spar by your mentors, the drowsiness had worn off - instead replaced by insufferable audacity.

As your scythes clashed, sparks flying between the two of you and burning him in the process, your mouth just wouldn’t stop moving, stop talking. The innocently sleepy look on your face was replaced with a shit-eating grin as you blocked his attacks, trapping him in a frenzied dance.

“What’s wrong, boo?” you laughed, twirling your scythe to drive him back. “Don’t tell me you’re getting tired already.”

Casper’s eyebrow twitched at the nickname; you wouldn’t stop calling him that ever since you learned his real name. He didn’t understand where it came from, but just the way you said it was enough to annoy him.

“Hardly,” he scoffed, his boots kicking up dust as they skidded against the ground. He was quick to lunge back at you, his movements precise as he swung his blade. “If anything, I’d wager that you’re the one tiring out.”

“Ha!” You ducked under his attack and sprung forward, Casper’s hair tickling at your face as you came nose to nose with him. Startled, Casper had no time to react as you slammed the end of your scythe’s staff into his chest.

Before he knew it, Casper’s back was against the ground, your boot on his chest, and your scythe at his neck.

Your breaths were heavy as you looked down on him, but your eyes glowed with triumphant victory. The fight may have been more exhausting than you’d like to admit, but the view you had was well worth the effort.

Beneath you, Casper struggled to catch his own breath, his chest heaving under the soles of your foot. His white hair splayed around him like a halo, and his face was tickled pink from the fight.

Even in defeat, he was beautiful.

You leaned forward, putting your weight on your knee. Casper grunted as you pressed harder on him. Just for the fun of it, you pressed your scythe’s blade against his chin and guided him to look up at you and your grin.

“I win,” you sang mockingly.

Casper groaned, letting his head fall against the floor. You laughed heartily, stepping off of him and instead extending your hand to him. Without a second thought, Casper took it, allowing you to pull him to his feet and dust him off.

“That’s what, victory number twenty-one?” you asked, stretching. “That means I’m in the lead now, Casp.”

“Whatever,” Casper scoffed, dusting off his chest where your foot had been. “I’m sure the score will even out in no time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you squinted at him. Casper stuck his tongue out at you.

“I don’t know, what does it mean?”

You hit his chest playfully. Casper grunted, glaring at you from the corner of his eye.

That’s how it had always been, after all. You and Casper would go back and forth in this tantalizing dance, exchanging jabs and jokes at the same time. 

To Casper, you were insufferable, but annoyingly capable. To you, Casper was way too serious and stuck up, yet had that charm about him that made you want to tease him at every possible opportunity.

But for many, many years, your relationship never went further than mere friends - if Casper even wanted to call you that.

━

The day Casper’s view of you changed was like a stormy sky - dark, yet light still managed to peek through.

You’d come back to headquarters with a solemn look upon your face. For someone who had just come back from a mission, you were oddly… clean. There wasn’t a trace of blood on your clothes, yet your eyes were dark, haunted. Even your scythe’s shine seemed dull.

For the reapers, to have someone normally so loud and full of life be reduced to this, was frightening. They’d grown used to your smile, your voice, your light. You parted crowds with your uncharacteristically serious aura; if there was anything a sensible reaper feared, it was the wrath of a joyous soul.

Immediately after turning in your report to headquarters, you disappeared from the public eye.

When Casper first heard the news, he had brushed it off. You were probably just having a bad day, he tried to assure himself. Maybe you’d finally realized the grimness that came with your profession. Maybe the soul you’d reaped was especially troublesome and gave you a run for your money.

Despite his attempts to make up explanations for your behavior, he couldn’t stop the worry from gnawing at his heart. It twisted in his chest like soul sickness, an ailment that he wasn’t used to nor did he understand. It even followed him into his work, plaguing his mind and distracting him as he reaped soul after soul.

He’d made haste to return home, knowing that this illness would only worsen if he stayed out.

The Underworld was always dark, but that day, the sky was pitch black. Eager to return to the comfort of his bed, he quickly made his way to one of the many apartment complexes in which reapers resided.

However, just before he opened the door to his room, his hand stilled at the sound of crying.

Now, sadness wasn’t an uncommon emotion in the Underworld. Ghosts, sinners, and demons alike wailed and screamed their woes into the night. Their cries were as common as the sound of rushing cars in a human city.

But not for reapers, especially in their home. Reapers, at their core, were cold, emotionless, and ruthless - they needed to be, in order to do their jobs properly. A reaper’s tears were rare, almost taboo.

The more Casper listened, he soon recognized a familiar voice among those sniffles: yours.

Could it be? He looked up to the rooftop, his hand wavering. His soul pulsed in his chest, warning him to ignore you and focus on himself. But his heart argued back.

Casper glanced once more at the doorknob to his room. Cursing himself, he heaved a sigh and walked away - moving towards the staircase leading to the rooftop.

As he emerged onto the rooftop, the first thing he noticed was how clear the sky was. Its crimson blanket was more like that of a rose’s rather than bloodstains, and if he squinted, he could perhaps delude himself into seeing a few stars.

Then came you.

Casper’s heart plummeted in his chest when he saw your form curled into itself. You sat at the edge of the rooftop, your knees pulled up to your chest and your face buried in your arms. Your back was to him, but Casper saw the way your shoulders trembled.

He tried to take a step towards you, tried to reach to you with his hand, but hesitated. What would he even say? What could he say? What could he do?

His thoughts halted when you took a deep, shuddered breath, your voice raw from cry.

“What do you want, Casper.”

Casper. Not Casp, not boo, not any of the annoying nicknames that you called him by.

“I…”

He stepped back, feeling fear for perhaps the first time in his life. For the first time, he was unsure of what to do.

You couldn’t see him, but you heard him walk away and descend the staircase. You laughed hollowly, wiping at your face with your hand.

“What was I even expecting…” you muttered bitterly, gripping at your own arms for support. “Why would he of all people…”

You shut your eyes tighter. Without the company of the sky and the city, you were left alone with your thoughts. Memories of what you had witnessed laughed in your mind, latching onto you like a parasite and refusing to let go.

You were never afraid of blood, nor of death, but today, just the thought of it made you nauseous.

Something soft nudged at your elbow. Blinking your eyes open, you warily looked to your side.

However, instead of seeing a person, you came face to face with a bright pink axolotl plushie.

You and the plushie stared at each other for a good minute, neither of you knowing what to make of the other. It wasn’t until you heard a familiar, exasperated sigh from behind the plushie that you realized what it was.

“Don’t just stare at him,” Casper mumbled, pushing the plushie against you. You blinked owlishly, before hesitantly taking the plushie into your arms.

Hugging it against your chest, you rested your chin on top of its head. The plushie was oddly warm, yet comforting. Casper sat beside you, silent and gazing up towards the sky. For a while, the two of you simply sat in this silence, with the only thing breaking it being your quiet sniffles.

“...She was just a kid,” you finally spoke, catching Casper’s attention and making him look at you. You, however, kept your gaze straight ahead to the city lines, refusing to meet his gaze. “She was just a little girl, and yet they… they…”

You hugged the plushie a little tighter.

“I just can’t understand how humans can be so cruel to each other.”

Casper’s gaze turned downcast. “That’s how they’ve always been. Life is cruel, even to the purest of souls.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Hardly anything is.”

“It shouldn’t have been her. It should’ve been that bastard that murdered her.”

“He’ll get what he deserves. Karma will catch up to him.”

“But what if it doesn’t? What if he gets let off?”

“He won’t.”

Unexpectedly, you let out a snort at Casper’s deadpanned voice - so assured and serious. Casper raised a brow, looking at you inquisitively.

“You know,” you said, raising your head. “You’re somehow really bad and really good at comforting people.”

“What?” Casper wrinkled his nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” you said softly. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Actually, that’s one of the things I like about you.”

“That I’m apparently a bad comforter?”

“No, silly.” You leaned your head on the plushie again, only this time you were looking at your coworker. “Your seriousness. How you’re always so confident in yourself. How even if you don’t know what you’re doing, you still try.”

Red bloomed across Casper’s face like a flowering blossom, reaching from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze.

“It’s not fair when you start saying things like that,” he mumbled. You giggled a little, leaning onto his shoulder with his plushie still in your arms.

“I’m just being honest,” you hummed. “Or maybe I’m coping. I dunno.”

Casper chuckled, but made no move to push you off him. You closed your eyes. The turmoil in your heart was still there, of course, but with Casper against you, it eased up just a little.

“Seriously though, thank you,” you said. “For coming up here for me and, well, everything.”

“It was nothing,” Casper replied. “You were looking pretty pathetic, all depressed and all.”

You huffed. “Just admit you care about me, Casp. Is that so hard?”

Casper grumbled something unintelligible, before lifting his arm. You squeaked as he wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you closer against him. With your head laid against his collarbone, you could feel every breath he took as well as the rapid beat of his heart.

“[Name],” he said quietly. “Remember the favor you promised me? For winning the race?”

“Mm… yeah. What about it?”

“I’d like to cash it in right now.”

“Oh lord,” you chuckled. “Alright, what do you want?”

“Whatever happens next, don’t tell anyone,” Casper whispered.

Your lips curled into a smile. “You know, Casp, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were about to do something weird.”

You couldn’t see him, but you knew he was rolling his eyes.

“Be quiet for a moment, will you?”

You grinned. “Ah, but that’s two favors, not-”

Casper shut you up with a soft kiss to your head. It was brief, so quick that for a second you almost thought you had dreamed it.

In your stunned silence, Casper spoke again.

“Forgive me if I’m being greedy, but I’ll ask for a third favor,” he said. “No matter what happens, promise me you won’t deal with it by yourself.”

His grip around you tightened.

“Please.”

You nuzzled closer into the crook of his neck.

“...I promise.”

reblogs w comments are appreciated !!

[supernaturalistthings]

Years

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Summary: How Dean Winchester would finally admit his feelings to you after hiding them from you for years.

Warnings: soft core smut (heavy kissing and touching)

You were the human embodiment of the stars and moon that helped Dean focus on the roads on late nights. You had a fire that would roar to life like his beloved car while having a softness and comfort to you like the well loved leather seats. Every dream girl Dean had ever imagined paled in comparison to you. You were incredible in every way to him, mesmerizing.

He had for years longed to feel the softness of your face in his calloused hands. To feel your heartbeat directly against his. To run his long fingers through your beautiful hair. To finally feel what it would be like to be kissed by you. He could picture it, but he couldn't even begin to imagine what your gentle lips would feel like moving against his undeserving own.

On nights where he had a room to himself he would think of how soft your thighs must feel. How it would feel to run his hand from ankle to hip. How it would feel to hold you in his hands. To fit with each other like puzzle pieces. How you would look at him while he did it. You would look at him with that smile of yours, beaming eyes of adoration and warmth like he'd never felt before, and he would melt. Not even knowing what to do next, even though he had done this countless times with others. It would be different with you though, you were different. Not like anyone or anything he had ever encountered before. You were the love of Dean Winchester's life.

It pained him to not tell you, to keep something so big from you when he shared everything with you. He knew you'd be upset at knowing that he kept anything from you but, he couldn't bring himself to do it no matter how hard he had tried. It's like his breath was taken away every time he tried to utter the words to you. Everytime he was around you.

Yet here you guys sat on an old worn out motel couch, a movie roaring, green and pink neon lights streaming through the cracks in the curtains. He knew nothing about him had ever been close to perfect, until he met you. This was perfect.

You were sitting next to him, his arm slung lazily over the back of the couch almost as if he had his arm around you. You were focused intently on the screen, but he was more interested in the way you reacted to the movie rather than the movie itself. The way you'd jump a bit at some random scene, and blush at the couple making out in the next was Oscar worthy to Dean in itself. Best picture, by far.

“So what'd you think?” you say breaking him from his thoughts.

He looked at you, mind racing but all he could say was “it was alright” with a smile

“Oh c'mon you know you liked it” you would say with a smirk getting up and leaving the warmth of your presence behind to grab a beer from the fridge. You close it behind you and turn back around to see Dean deep in thought.

“Where's your head at?” you'd say cocking your head slightly to examine his contemplative state.

He stared ahead.

“Dean?” you'd say trying to gather his attention, which didn't work so you leave the bottle on the counter and slowly make your way over to him. You rest a gentle hand on his shoulder. He slowly starts to turn his head to look at you. You can see from his eyes that his mind is racing. He's almost breathless.

“You okay?”

“Not really” he’d huff out and shake his head as he turned his attention to the floor. This was it. Now or never. He couldn't stand the thought of never. He stands and meets your eyes once again and puts his hands on the curve of your waist while he slowly leans in keeping eye contact the whole time until the space between your lips closes. Both of your eyes flutter closed and you savor the new sensation of each other for a second before he pulls back looking at you questioningly. Awaiting some kind of reaction. He hoped that everything or even just some of what he was feeling was communicated.

You were speechless, breathless even. You were sure he could feel your heart racing. Never in a million years did you think that your feelings for Dean Winchester would be returned. That you could finally share the love you harbored for him, with him.

“Im sorry” he breaks the silence and continues, “i had to do that, even if it was just once” he says, slowly and tenderly lifting his hand to brush a strand of hair out of your face while searching your eyes for any sign of reciprocation. Anything that told him there was a chance his dreams could be real, that there was a chance. He had never felt so desperate for anyone or anything than he did in this moment. He was looking at you longingly when you finally broke yourself out of the shock. ,

“it doesn’t have to be just once…” you’d say looking into his green eyes trying to convey the desire you had to be his and only his that you’d had for years. You place your hand on his toned chest and run it up to the short hairs on the back of his head. Gripping and pulling him into a second kiss. Both of your eyes flutter shut once again and you start to slowly move your lips against each other. Feeling and breathing each other in.

Everything you needed to hear was painted beautifully from his lips onto yours as they moved in perfect synchronicity together. Both of your heads were racing with the memories of moments they thought they had read the other wrong and slowly realizing and accepting each other's feelings. No more “almosts”. Dean's hands traced from your waist up to the sides of your face, his hands rough against your smooth cheeks just like he had imagined and could now actually feel. He tenderly cupped your face in his hands, his arms flexed against the black t-shirt covering his broad chest. He held you there like he needed you to breathe, and in this moment he couldn't help but feel like he did.

“This is all i've wanted for so long” he breathes out against your lips and then unable to help himself keeps kissing you.

“You have no idea” You'd say in a whisper back and feel him smile into the kiss. Your lips were needy against each other, finally feeling what they had been desperately searching for. The weight of unspoken desires was lifted. With every touch came a new depth of connection and love. The silence filled with breathy kisses and the sound of clothes ruffling against each other's hands as you lightly caressed over each other, holding each other in all the different ways that had been desired by the both of you for years.

You were lost in each other, in a place where time had no meaning and no one else existed. You both savored each kiss, touch, and minute as if it were eternity itself. Any shadow of a doubt was gone.

You pulled back smiling, beaming at him. He looked at you like every girl wants to be looked at. You needed him. He had opened the floodgates by kissing you and you couldn't think of anything else you wanted more right now than to be one with him.

Your smile drops slightly as you slowly and you silently bring your hands to the hem of your shirt to lift it off yourself. Dean's hands reach gently to stop you, eyes dark looking into yours with concern. He takes your hands into his and looks seriously at you and says, “I don't want to rush things..” You look at him and tilt your head, smiling, taking the sides of his face into your hands.

“I've wanted this for years now Dean, I don't feel rushed at all.” you say breathlessly and filled with hope when you continue, “Do you?”

His face softens and he looks at you deeply, fully absorbing what you said when he realizes you're right. This isn't rushed, this is the perfect moment. A culmination of years of words unsaid, of touches missed, of glances held a few seconds too long.

“Not even a little” he says looking deep into your eyes with a soft smile and gently brushing your cheek, pulling you in once more. Sealing the space between the two of you once again. You leaned on your toes and gripped his toned upper arms while he slithered his arms around your waist and held you close. He slowly and affectionately moved his hands down your back and over your soft rear leaning over slightly to rub over the tops of your thighs, while you needily ran your hands through his short hair. The kiss was never broken even as he started shuffling your bodies nearer the bed on the other side of the motel room.

[jksarchives]

BY YOUR SIDE

PAIRING; jungkook x reader

GENRE; f2l, fwb, angst, fluff

TAGS/WARNINGS; friends with benefits, best friends to lovers, domestic violence (not by jk), oc has panic attacks, violence, blood, injuries, hurt/comfort, fluff, implied smut, lots of crying, jk is very protective of oc

WORD COUNT; 7.9k

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯! 𝘈𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘧𝘦!l

SYNOPSIS;

The question is, when do the lines blur between love and friendship?

𐚁₊⊹

The rain fell cold and heavily, the city painted in shades of silver and black. Streetlights flickered weakly, with their light barely visible through the rain. The night was filled with the sound of raindrops splattering against the concrete, mixed with unsettling rumbles of distant thunder.

You walked alone through the deserted streets at a slow pace, your steps heavy and staggering. Your shoes were soaked through, and they made soft, wet thuds with every movement, as if they were too tired to lift you any longer.

Tears streamed down your face, but they were indistinguishable from the rain that soaked your pale skin. They fell silently, lost in the deluge, as though the sky wept with you. Your breaths were shallow, with uneven gasps, the kind that follow after too much crying and not enough sleep.

The world around you was a blur, the cityscape fading into a mass of blackness cut through by neon signs and faint headlights far in the distance. Cars passed by occasionally, their drivers unaware of your lone figure travelling through the storm.

You were invisible in the rain, a shadow that slipped between those gaps of the night. Your hands hung loosely at your sides, your fingers trembling from the cold or possibly from intern distress.

Every so often, you paused, your body swaying slightly as though on the edge of collapse. But then you would begin again, dragging yourself forward, one step at a time, with no clear direction, no place to go. There was only the movement, the motion of walking that somehow seemed easier than standing still and feeling everything.

But it was comfort that you really sought. It was what you needed right now more than anything.

And so, you let your feet do the walking. Then soon, you found yourself standing before a familiar house, a place that held endless memories of laughter — and intimacy. You summoned the courage to ring the doorbell, your heart pounding in your chest.

The door soon creaked open, and you were met by the face of a man you had known for years — your best friend. Or someone more.

You didn’t know anymore. You’d been through so much together, shared countless moments — some joyful, some painful. Somewhere along the way, things had gotten messy. Emotions had blurred lines, but neither had the courage to define what they were. He wasn’t just your friend, but also wasn’t fully yours. That space between was confusing, painful. You didn’t know how to label what you had, and maybe that’s what scared you most of all.

“Y/n?” he frowned. There he stood, shirtless, his hair wet with droplets cascading down his defined abs. His eyes widened in surprise and concern looking at your distraught state.

“Jungkook” your voice trembled as you felt yourself choking up. Without hesitation, he quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you inside, closing the door behind him.

He cupped your tear-streaked face in his hands, his touch warm, gentle and reassuring. His worried and curious eyes met yours, “what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice a soft murmur.

Your lips trembled as you tried to find the words to express the storm raging inside you, the turmoil that had driven you to seek comfort at his doorstep. In the dim light of the entryway, his gaze fell upon a faint bruise marred against your skin. His heart clenched, a mixture of anger and worry welling up within him. His fingers brushed over the discolored mark with the utmost tenderness, but you winced in pain, causing him to retract his hand immediately.

“Y/n, who did this?” he asked, his voice firm.

The question hung in the air heavily. You bit your trembling lip, desperately trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill. You turned your head to the side, avoiding his intense gaze that was burning through your soul. Jungkook’s jaw clenched, a mixture of frustration and unease crossing his features.

Turning your head back to face him, he stared at you, searching for answers in your eyes. But all he found was a painful vulnerability that tore at his heart.

“I asked you a question damnit! Who did this to you?” he repeated, feeling his blood boil at the thought of someone hurting you.

In actuality, he knew who was hurting. He just wanted you to say the name knowing you’d do and say anything but his name.

And then, as if the dam within her had crumbled, you broke.

Your loud raw and unrestrained cries erupted into the quiet atmosphere as you crashed into her bare chest. His heart ached witnessing your anguish. He held you close with his strong arms wrapped around your vulnerable form, offering his comfort and support.

“Tell me” he persisted with a gentle tone, but all you did was cry, your shoulders shuddering at each sob. So he waited patiently as he held you close in his arms.

“No matter what I do or how much I try, I can never escape him Jungkook. I’m just done with everything, I’m tired. I don’t want to live like this anymore, it hurts” you cried.

Jungkook’s anger ignited like a storm within him, fueled by a protective instinct that couldn't be contained. His fists clenched involuntarily, his voice now a low, simmering growl.

“That bastard, I swear to god I’m going to fucking kill him when I get a hold of him” he said through gritted teeth.

“I just want to escape” you whimpered, hugging his waist tighter.

“And I’m going to get you out this time, no matter what” he promises, pulling away and staring into your eyes with determination.

“But how? You know how he is. He has power, money and strength that you know you can’t fight against” you questioned weakly.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, “more than anyone” you whispered an answer.

“Then let me handle this” he said, “but I’m scared he’s going to hurt you, and I don’t want anything to happen to you Jungkook” your worried eyes looked into his dark ones.

“Just trust me this once. I’m not letting that motherfucker hurt you ever again, I promise you” he said with seriousness.

You were quiet, feeling hesitant, but you were desperate to escape the toxic bubble you were trapped in. Sniffling, you gave him a nod, “I trust you” you told him.

In the moment of vulnerability, your gazes remained locked, and Jungkook found himself slowly leaning in, aching to kiss you. The air was thick with silent and unsaid emotions, and you felt his breath fan against your lips.

But he held himself back.

The bond you both shared was complicated. It was more than just friendship — you both somehow wanted to venture into the realm of lust and pleasure with no strings attached.

Yet, in this moment of vulnerability, he resisted crossing the boundaries you had both set. He was determined to be there for you in a way that transcended physical desires. A bittersweet smile curving up his lips as his fingers brushed against your cheek.

“You’re cold and wet, you should go shower. I still have your clothes here, I’ll get them for you, hmm?” he suggested.

“Hmm” you responded with a weak smile, and followed him upstairs with your hand intertwined with his.

Reaching his bedroom, he went to his wardrobe while you began to strip from your overgarments, leaving you in your black lace underwear and black cami top. You stood there with your shoulders slumped, tired and defeated.

“Jungkook?” you called out to your best friend, “hmm?” he responded, turning around with your clothes in his hands.

“Do you think I’m worthy enough to be loved and be happy like how they show it in the movies?” you asked, your voice small and cracked as tears accumulated in your eyes.

Jungkook’s heart sank at your question. Placing your clothes on the side of the bed, he approached you and pulled you into a tight comforting hug.

“You’re worthy of everything Y/n, who said you’re not?” he questioned.

“Every time I put my love and trust in someone, they always end up hurting me, like I was some easy game for them. Why? Am I doing something wrong? Don’t I deserve to be happy like everyone else?” you whimpered.

Jungkook couldn’t help but feel his heart sink deeper and deeper at your words, “no Y/n, you’re not doing anything wrong” he said.

“Then why? Why is he hurting me like this? He promised to take care of me, to love me, to always be there for me. Yet, he turned out to be the same monster he promised to protect me from” you silently cried.

“Sometimes monsters hide in sheep's skin. It’s not your fault for not seeing it. He had me fooled too, until when you told me about him slapping you. In fact, he has everyone fooled. And if you hadn’t stopped me that day and the other times he hurt you, I swear to god that bastard would’ve been dead by now” his gritted his teeth.

But then his eyes softened when he turned his attention back on you, “but please, please don’t blame yourself” he said.

“You deserve another chance. You deserve to be happy” he added, pulling away and looking into your eyes.

And there it was again, the urge to kiss you was overwhelming, like an irresistible force pulling him closer to you. As your breaths gradually synchronised, an electric tension hung in the air, a silent acknowledgment of something deeper between you.

Jungkook felt your fingers tremble against his back, and he could sense you yearning, aching for something more than just a friend's touch. Your heart and mind became one, both craving for one thing.

You wanted him. You needed him.

And slowly, you felt yourself leaning in. But for a moment you stopped, and he could feel your hot trembling breaths brush over his lips. He felt your hold around his torso tighten, and before he knew it, he felt your lips smash against his. You pushed him on the bed and hovered over him, kissing him hard.

For a moment he was caught off guard as he instinctively held your waist to support you, but soon succumbed to the overwhelming desire as he fluttered his eyes closed.

He kissed you back with the equal force and desire, his arms wrapping around your petite form as you melted into each other's warmth. The connection deepened as your lips moved in sync with his, a blend of comfort and yearning intertwining. Jungkook’s initial restraint gave way to the intensity of the moment, as he found himself exploring every inch of your lips.

The world outside faded away, leaving only your heartbeats echoing in the stillness. In that moment, the boundaries of your friendship blurred, and your feelings for each other were exposed — yet neither of you wanted to admit it.

Lost in the moment, your hands then slowly began to trail down to his crotch. Jungkook let out a deep groan against your lips, feeling a light squeeze around his clothed cock. “F-Fuck” he shakily swore under his breath as he then felt your hands slip inside his shorts.

However, he snapped back to his consciousness realising what was happening. His eyes shot open, and he grasped your hand to stop you from going any further. Feeling his lips detached from your, you let out a soft whimper.

“Y/n, stop” he cut in, his voice low and hoarse, and took your hand out of his shorts. “This isn’t right, we shouldn’t be doing this right now” he said.

“Why? I need you Jungkook. I want you to fuck me senseless and make me forget everything about today” you whimpered, leaning in closer to kiss him.

But Jungkook held you back shaking his head, and he flipped you over so that he was hovering over you. “You have me Y/n, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here for you. But you’re not okay right now, and I don’t want to take advantage of your vulnerability” he said.

You sighed in defeat, and slowly broke down into tears all over again. Your cries tore his heart apart, and he wished he could tell you how he truly felt about you.

He longed to wipe away not only your tears but all the sadness in your life — not as a best friend, but as someone who would take any risks to protect the woman he loved. He wanted to hold you closer, to whisper that he loved you more than words could convey, but fear gripped him. The fear of losing the beautiful bond you both shared, the fear of being rejected, and the fear of forever altering your relationship held him back.

As your cries grew loud and hysterical, Jungkook’s heart began to race in panic. His breaths were becoming short and ragged, and his eyes began to pool with tears.

“Hey, look at me” he said, cupping your face in his hands.

“Calm down, I’m here okay?” he tried to comfort you, but you continued to cry, your face turning red as you struggled to breathe in between.

Jungkook felt like his heart was going to rip out of his chest. He felt his throat tighten, trying to control his own tears that threatened to spill.

“Please don’t cry baby, it fucking hurts me” his voice cracked as he brought your face closer to his. Your tearful sobs echoed through the walls of his tiny home, your body trembling with each hiccuping breath.

“P-Please help me, please. Take me somewhere far away, somewhere where I don’t have to see him ever again. I’m scared Jungkook. I’m so fucking scared. Please, make me forget everything about him and all the pain he has inflicted. P-Please” you cried to him.

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly at your panicked outburst, and gently shook you with your face still cupped in his hands. “B-Baby, baby, hey look at me” he grabbed your face, gently shaking you, and you slowly fluttered your eyes open to finally look at him through your blurry vision.

“Breathe for me baby, it’s okay. Just focus on me. You’re okay, everything’s going to be okay. I’m right here, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you again. I promise you” he said, his heart anxiously hammering inside his chest.

He wiped away your tears with his thumbs, caressing your bruised cheek with tender care, and you onto him as if he were your lifeline. Your breaths came in ragged gasps, and he spoke soothing words, trying to calm the storm inside you.

“Everything’s going to be okay, I promise” he whispered, leaning in to press his forehead against yours.

Slowly, your cries began to subside, replaced by hiccups and sniffles. Jungkook continued to hold you, his heartache mingling with relief that he could offer you some comfort in this moment of vulnerability. His eyes never left yours, and with his hot minty breath fanning over your lips, the storm within you slowly began to fade. You reached your trembling hands to touch his face, your cold fingers slowly tracing along his damp cheeks.

He was crying.

Grabbed the back of his neck, you pulled him in closer and pressed your trembling lips against his plump ones.

The kiss was different from the ones you both shared before. It was slow, tender, and filled with a depth of emotion that words could never convey. It was a kiss that spoke of longing, of hidden feelings finally being acknowledged. Your lips moved together in perfect harmony, a silent confession of their own. And it was as if your souls had finally found each other in that moment, and everything made sense.

As you both pulled away, your foreheads gently touching, you could feel your heart pounding, both breathless. You knew that things had changed between you two. It wasn't just about being friends with benefits anymore; it was about exploring the possibility of something deeper and more meaningful.

“I love you” you muttered against his lips as you wiped away his tears.

It was as if your words held an earth shattering weight to them, Jungkook’s eyes widened, feeling his heart swell as he tried to process your words.

“W-What?” looked at you, “say that a-again?” he stuttered.

“I love you Jungkook, maybe more than a friend, I always have. I wish I had told you earlier” you repeated with a small smile on your face.

Jungkook felt his eyes water, a soft chuckle escaping his mouth, “and what if I tell you I love you too?” he asked.

“I know” you answered, which took him by surprise.

“You knew?” he raised his brow, “the way you act, the things you say, the things you do for me, you’d never do it for anyone else. It was obvious” you said, caressing his cheeks.

Jungkook smiled shyly, snuggling his face in the crook of your neck, “I’d do anything for you” he said.

“You don’t know how happy and relieved I am, I thought you wouldn’t love me back” he then said, his tone changing. Feeling a rug in your heart, you wrapped your arms around his bare torso.

“After everything we’ve been through and everything you have done for me, how can I not?” you responded, placing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

Pulling away, Jungkook stared at you with love shining in his eyes. For a moment there was silence as you both stared into each other’s eyes.

“I love you Y/n. I love you so fucking much. If there’s anything I need in this world, it’s you. I want to be with you, protect you, start a family together and build our own little world. And I promise you I will kill any bastards who hurt you, especially him” he said with determination in his voice.

Your gaze was soft and your smile was gentle as an angel as you continued caressing his cheek. “You love me?” you asked, “so much” he answered.

“How much do you love me?” you then asked, “more than anything in this world — more than my life” he answered without hesitation. You felt your eyes water at his answer, heart growing heavy with emotions.

“Then show me. Show me how much you love me” you said.

And the next thing you knew, he stripped you bare, trapping you under his naked body as he explored every inch of you. It wasn't a moment of lust and desire between you, but rather an act of promising love. And it was at that moment you knew this man was going to cherish you forever, and you trusted him with everything you had.

━━━━━━━━━━

▍TWO DAYS LATER

It was nine in the morning, the sun's gentle rays began to seep through the curtains while you and Jungkook lay entwined in a peaceful slumber.

But that tranquility was soon shattered. Suddenly, a series of loud, thunderous bangs echoed through the house, vibrating like a gunshot in the quiet dawn.

Startled, your eyes snapped open, your heart racing in fear. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around Jungkook’s muscular torso, snuggling yourselves deeper into his embrace.

‘It’s him. It’s him!’ your mind screamed as you began breathing heavily. Soon you felt Jungkook stirring from his slumber as he slowly blinked away his sleep, and quickly registered the panic in your eyes.

“What happened?” he asked, his voice groggy yet concerned as he sat up.

You sat up and held his arm, and you couldn’t even respond as the banging persisted, growing even louder than before. Frowning, Jungkook threw the blanket to the side and rose to his feet.

“Who the hell is banging on the door at this hour?” he muttered under his breath with a hint of annoyance.

However, before he could walk off, you quickly moved to grab his hand to stop him, your wide eyes pleading with him to stay put. You shook your head slightly, a mix of fear and caution written across your features.

Jungkook looked down at you in confusion, “what’s wrong?” he asked. “Don’t open the door, please. What if it’s him?” you whispered urgently, your voice quivering in fear.

Jungkook’s eyes softened, feeling his heart ache seeing how fear was consuming you. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to let him do anything” he reassured, reaching his hand out to caress your cheek.

“But what if he hurts you?” you questioned as you desperately clutched onto his hand.

“His height might be an advantage to him, but he’s nothing compared to me. Trust me babe, I’ll be fine, don’t worry” he said with a warm smile.

But despite his reassurance, your heart still felt uneasy. You trusted him a lot, but that man was unpredictable, and you could never guess what his next move might be.

“You stay here, okay? Don’t come out” he instructed, and you nodded.

“Be careful” you told him, “I will” he said before slipping out of your grip and leaving the room.

The relentless knocking continued as he reached downstairs, now accompanied by muffled shouts and threats. Jungkook’s jaw clenched as he approached the door, his hand hesitating on the door handle. He knew it was him.

He took a deep breath, his senses heightened as he prepared for whatever that might come ahead. He gripped the door handle and uncooked the door. Almost instantly the door swung open, and before he could react, a brutal force struck him square in the chest. The impact sent him flying backward, crashing onto the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

Pain exploded through his body, and the world momentarily blurred as he struggled to catch his breath. And as his vision cleared, he saw a menacing figure towering over him — and he knew very well who it was.

Jungkook struggled to his feet, his chest throbbing from the impact. But he held his ground, his fierce eyes locked onto your boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend.

“Where is she?” his deep devilish voice demanded with his jaw clenched.

“That is none of your business anymore Minseok” Jungkook growled.

Hearing that, Minseok’s rage intensified. He lunged forward, grabbing the shorter man by the collar of his shirt and pinning him against the nearest wall.

His grip was tight, and his voice dripped with venom as he repeated his demand, “fucking tell me where she is you bastard!” he screamed.

The tension in the room reached its breaking point, and Jungkook’s patience snapped, pushing him to his limits. Summoning every ounce of strength, he pushed against the other man’s hold, breaking free from his grasp.

Before Minseok could react, Jungkook’s fist connected with his jaw in a swift and powerful punch. Gasping for breath, he stood his ground with his hands curled up into fists in defense.

“Or what?” he challenged as he glared at the man who looked taken back by the hit. But his gaze hardened once again as he regained his composure, and took a few steps towards the shorter male.

“Oh you wouldn’t want to go down there Jeon, you’ll regret it” Minseok warned with a smirk.

Jungkook scoffed, “what are you going to do? Have someone else fight for you as always?” he questioned.

“You’re nothing without your money and power Minseok, and that is what truly makes you a coward” he said, raising his hand and pressing his index finger on the other male’s chest.

Minseok was a man of wealth and status, admired in social circles for his success in the finance world. He owned a renowned finance company, and his reputation as a gentleman followed him wherever he went. Polished, charming, and always impeccably dressed, Minseok had a way of making people feel important in his presence. When you first met him, it seemed like you had found your prince — a man who showered you with love, respect, and attention.

He was everything you could hope for in a partner — or at least that was what he made you believe.

In the beginning, your relationship felt like a dream. Minseok was always thoughtful, planning special dates, surprising you with gifts, and making you feel cherished.

To the outside world, he was the ideal boyfriend, and you were often the envy of your friends. Jungkook too. You couldn't help but be captivated by his charm. He spoke with such kindness, always knowing the right thing to say, especially when it came to your feelings. He made you feel safe, like you could trust him with anything.

Oh how badly you wished you knew everything before.

But as your relationship progressed, subtle cracks began to show — things you had ignored in the haze of infatuation. Minseok had a way of steering conversations back to his needs, his successes, his frustrations, though he cloaked it all in gentleness.

A year into your relationship, he expressed his desire to take things to the next level — intimacy — but you weren’t ready. You loved him, yes, but something inside you hesitated. When you told him you needed more time, he seemed to understand at first. He reassured you, saying all the right things like “I respect your boundaries”.

The second time he brought it up, you felt a little more pressure, but Minseok still kept his composure. However, by the third time, something inside him snapped.

It started with a subtle shift — his eyes narrowing, his voice becoming clipped and tense. You had said, once again, that you weren’t ready, expecting the same understanding response. But instead, Minseok exploded. His face contorted with anger, and he yelled at you, demanding to know why you didn’t trust him. The gentleness that had once defined him vanished, replaced by a cold, aggressive fury.

You were bewildered and terrified. You had never seen him act in such a way, and it left you feeling confused and guilty, as though you somehow caused his outburst.

You convinced yourself it was just a one-time thing — stress from work, maybe. But it wasn’t. The more you pushed back on his demands, the angrier he became. It escalated quickly, and one evening, during another argument, Minseok’s anger turned violent. In a blind fit of rage, he raised his hand and struck you across the cheek.

The moment his hand met your skin, time seemed to stop. You stood frozen in shock, your mind unable to comprehend what had just happened. This was the man who had once showered you with love, the man who made you feel safe. And you always wondered: how could he be the same person who was now causing you pain?

Traumatised and deeply shaken, you didn’t know who to turn to. You kept the incident to yourself, unable to fully process the fact that the man you thought you knew was capable of such violence.

You avoided Jungkook for a week after the incident, afraid that telling him would make everything real. But as the weeks went by, Minseok’s abuse became more frequent, and his once-charming demeanor dissolved completely.

He became a stranger — cruel, controlling, and unpredictable. Each time he hurt you, it was as though the Minseok you had fallen in love with ceased to exist, replaced by someone monstrous.

Or maybe that was who he truly was, and the image everyone had of him was just a facade.

Eventually, the burden became too heavy to bear. You opened up to Jungkook, who had noticed the subtle changes in your behavior long before you even said anything to him. He had seen the fear in your eyes, the way you flinched at sudden movements, and the forced smiles that no longer reached your eyes.

When you finally told him about the abuse, Jungkook was horrified. He had always suspected something was wrong, but hearing the truth from your own mouth shattered the image he had of Minseok.

Jungkook was furious. He wanted to confront Minseok, to make him pay for everything he had put you through. His hands clenched into fists as he ranted about how no man had the right to treat you that way. He was ready to beat him up without hesitation.

But you stopped him.

Though terrified and hurt, you weren't ready for that kind of confrontation. You knew Minseok too well — his temper, his influence, and how easily he could manipulate people. You didn’t want violence to be met with more violence. Confronting him could make things worse, not just for you, but for Jungkook too.

It took everything in you to convince Jungkook to hold back, to stop him from going after Minseok. He protested, his anger still boiling over, but eventually, he agreed. He wouldn’t act on his rage, at least not yet.

Jungkook then tried to convince you to break up with him. But you couldn’t. It wasn’t that easy. Breaking up with him wasn’t as simple as walking away. There would be consequences, and the uncertainty of those consequences kept you paralysed.

You saw the dark side of Minseok, and the thought of leaving him terrified you. You didn’t know what he was capable of if you did try. Every time you imagined the conversation where you told him it was over, your mind filled with dread. What if he hurt you worse?

So, for five more months, you stayed. You endured the abuse, hiding your bruises and your pain, putting on a brave face in public while Minseok continued to control your life.

But now, you were tired. You were tired of constantly running when you knew there was someone who you could lean on — Jungkook. Every time Minseok lashed out, you found yourself retreating into Jungkook’s arms, needing him in ways you had never needed anyone before.

But somewhere along the way, the line between friendship and something more began to blur. What started as simple comfort, a place to escape the pain Minseok inflicted, shifted. The way Jungkook’s arms felt around you lingered in your mind long after you both parted. The warmth of his touch, once so innocent, began to stir something deeper in you. You found yourself longing for those moments, not just for the comfort but for the connection you felt with him.

One night, after yet another moment of abuse, you found yourself at Jungkook’s doorstep, broken and vulnerable. As usual, Jungkook welcomed you in, no questions asked.

But that night felt different. The weight of all the pain, all the confusion, all the emotions you had been bottling up, came crashing down. And in that moment, when Jungkook pulled you into his arms, something altered. The hug lingered a little longer, his hands gentle as they wiped away your tears. Without thinking, you leaned in, and Jungkook didn’t pull away.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative, as if both of you were unsure of what was happening. But the unspoken feelings you both had been hiding for so long surged to the surface, and what started as a hesitant kiss quickly became something more. That night, you sought more than just emotional comfort from Jungkook — you sought intimacy, a connection that went beyond the friendship you had built over the years.

In the days that followed, you found yourself confused. You still hadn’t left Minseok, too afraid of the consequences, but your heart was no longer in it. How could it be, when Jungkook was the one who had been there for you all along? Every time you thought of Jungkook, your heart ached, not with pain but with longing.

It took you long enough to realise that you had fallen in love with your best friend, and there was no doubt that Jungkook loved you too. It was obvious he did.

Back to reality, Jungkook knew he had pulled the trigger with his words with the way fire in the man’s eyes erupted, but he didn’t care — he would do anything to fight for you.

The next thing they knew was the hallway erupting into a violent chaos. The sounds of grunts, fists meeting flesh, and the crashing of furniture filled the air, as two men fought for their own reasons.

“I’m not letting you hurt her again” Jungkook growled, throwing another punch at Minseok’s cheek.

As the man doubled down in pain, Jungkook took the opportunity to kick him with a powerful force, sending him to the ground. Ignoring his bloody fists, he quickly got on top of him and began throwing punches left and right, his anger blinding him completely.

“If Y/n hadn’t stopped me, I would have killed you a long time ago. But anymore. I’m going to kill you today” Jungkook seethed, his voice filled with a burning rage that matched the fire in his eyes.

You, on the other hand, heard the commotion from downstairs, and your heart was rapidly pounding against your ribcage.

You jumped off the bed and rushed to the door, but you stopped yourself just as you were about to twist the door handle. You hesitated for a moment as your mind raced with all sorts of thoughts, but felt your concern for Jungkook’s safety overcome your anxiety, and soon you rushed out of the room.

Halfway down the staircase, you came to an abrupt stop. You clung to the railing, your eyes widened in terror seeing your worst fears right in front of you. Adrenaline surged through your veins, and despite you trembling, you knew you couldn't stay hidden any longer.

Your body began shake witnessing the chaos, especially the blood that was on the floor. With tears in your eyes, you continued your way down and ran towards Jungkook, screaming for him to stop.

“Jungkook stop!” you cried, grabbing his shirt and trying to pull him away.

The room was a warzone, and you felt trapped in the crossfire of emotions and violence. Your hands trembled as you tried to pull Jungkook away from Minseok, but the fury in his eyes kept him fixated on the man below.

“Baby please, stop it!” you sobbed in terror, feeling your grip weaken. Your voice soon caught Minseok’s attention, and his hard glare pierced through your soul. Soon, he found himself using all his strength to kick off the man above him, sending him crashing into a nearby table.

Jungkook grunted in pain, his breath knocked out of him. You gasped in horror, frozen with fear as Minseok staggered to his feet. His eyes darted between the two of you, and a twisted grin formed on his bloody lips, “at last I found you” he said.

“S-Stay away from me” you warned him, your heart pounding in fear as he walked towards you.

“But I came to take you home baby. And I promise to be nicer” his said, his voice innocent as a child.

You shook your head vigorously, “n-no, I’m not coming anywhere with you. Take the hint Minseok, we’re over. We’ve been over since the day you raised your hand on me. You’re a monster, and I’ll never love a monster like you. All you did was hurt me, and force me to do things I never wanted to do. I’ll never forgive you for the shit you’ve done to me” you cried as you stepped backwards.

The twisted grin on his lips widened, and his eyes grew fiercer with anger. “I’m taking you with me whether you like it or not” he said with his deep and harsh, ignoring whatever you had just said.

You felt helpless, trapped, and tears streamed down your face as you took slow trembling steps backwards. “You thought you could leave me so easily?” he hissed, his eyes burning with fire.

“You thought you could be happy without me?” he questioned.

You felt the air knock out of your lungs when your steps came to a sudden halt, feeling your back hit against the wall. Panic began to well up and your breaths became shallow gasps. Minseok’s smirk grew seeing you helpless, and he took the opportunity to close the distance between you both.

“You can’t escape me babygirl, you’re mine. Not his, not anyone’s, but mine” he growled, slamming his hand on the wall above your head as he leaned down to you.

You flinched, and your voice trembled as you tried to respond, but your fear had paralysed you. Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but his threatening presence left you feeling powerless.

In that moment, you realised the true extent of the darkness you had escaped when you left him behind. You had found happiness and love with Jungkook, and you felt safe with him. But now, face to face with your past, you were forced to confront the demons you thought you had left behind.

“And if I can’t have you, no one can, because you’re always going to be mine. GOT IT?!” he screamed, grabbing a fistful of your hair.

You let out a loud shriek followed by a terrified and agonising cry, and all you could pray at this moment was for everything to end. It felt like a nightmare from which you couldn't wake.

Just when it seemed like all hope was lost, a sudden crash shattered the tense atmosphere.

Jungkook, driven by a mix of fear and anger, staggered to his feet despite the excruciating pain in his abdomen and grabbed a vase from the nearby table. With a fierce swing, he struck Minseok over the head, and the impact sent him crumpling to the floor, unconscious. The room fell into a long heavy silence, soon broken by your laboured breathing and the faint sobs that escaped your trembling lips.

Jungkook rushed to your side, wrapping his arms around you, offering the safety and protection you had so desperately needed. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you anywhere?” he questioned, panicked, as he pulled away.

He cupped your face, scanning your face and body for injuries. Seeing nothing, he sighed in relief. “I-I’m okay” you reassure him with a nod, struggling to keep your composure.

But Jungkook could see right through you. You were shaken. The fear of forever being trapped in the hands of a monster, the fear of being hurt, and chaos that unfolded in front of you — you were traumatised.

Without saying a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace. And in that moment, you felt yourself crumble, and all the pent up emotions came flooding down. “Let it all out, it’s okay” he whispered into your ear.

Overwhelmed, you broke down into tears, crying out loud and hysterically as you clung onto him. You cried out all the fear, anger, and pain that had been bottled up inside you for so long.

“I-I was so s-scared Jungkook” you cried.

“You’re okay now. He’s not going to hurt you after this, I promise” he reassured, placing a kiss on your forehead as he tightened his hug. You stay like that for a while until your cries died down, and when they did, you pulled away and turned your gaze to the unconscious man lying on the floor.

“What are we going to do now?” you asked.

“I’ll drop you off at my parents’ house, just stay with them for a while. I’ll handle everything here, don’t worry” he answered. You turned to face him, and it was only then when you noticed his face. Your eyes widened and a gasp left your mouth as you scanned his face.

“J-Jungkook, you’re hurt” you said, cupping his face in your hands — he was bleeding everywhere. The gnash on his forehead, the cut on his cheek and his bleeding lip, it all made your stomach churn.

“I’m fine, don’t worry” he smiled weakly.

“Now go and get ready, I’ll drop you off. I’ll come over later and we’ll stay over for a few days until everything is sorted out, hmm?” he explained, and gave him a nod in agreement.

“But let me treat your wounds first at least” you then said, “okay” Jungkook sighed.

And with that, you held his hand and dragged him upstairs. Jungkook was never a violent person, but in this moment, he knew he had done what he had to do to protect you, even if it meant resorting to violence.

━━━━━━━━━━

▍THREE DAYS LATER

As the rain poured outside, Jungkook sat by the window with his phone pressed to his ear. He gazed at the grey sky watching the droplets that trickled down the glass pane.

“That bastard is done for anyway, but I’ll be over there in an hour or two” he said, and after exchanging a few more words, he ended the call.

Just as he ended the call, his mother entered the room holding a steaming cup of coffee. “Here you go dear” she said as she handed the cup to her son. Jungkook gave her a small smile as he took it from her, mumbling a tiny ‘thank you’.

“How’s Y/n doing? She was complaining of a headache last night” Jungkook asked, “she’s resting in the room. She’s okay now, I made her soup earlier” she replied as she sat down next to him.

It had been three days since Minseok’s intrusion, and you were still shaken by everything. Jungkook knew he had reached his breaking point that day, and he promised himself that he wouldn’t hold back anymore if he came face to face with him.

“Is everything okay honey? You look stressed. Also, what’s happening with that man?” she asked, gently rubbing his back.

“He’s still in custody. He wants to file an appeal despite all the evidence against him. If the court grants that appeal, I know for sure he’s going to use his dirty tricks to get himself out. But I’m not going to let that happen” Jungkook answered with a sigh, and bright the cup to his lips to take a sip.

Jungkook called his family lawyer the moment you and him reached his parents’ house. The man had been a steady presence in their lives for years, handling everything from minor disputes to family issues. Now, Jungkook needed his guidance for something much darker. The attack wasn’t just on him; it was part of a larger pattern of abuse Minseok had been subjecting you to for months. So with the lawyer’s advice, Jungkook made sure that everything was done right.

“What’s the public’s opinion on this? I heard him and his company had a good reputation” his mother then questioned.

Not long after consulting with his family lawyer and further investigation, somehow Minseok’s actions had reached the media. Information not just about the abuse and the recent attack, but the shady business dealings and the fraud had been leaked by internal sources. Reporters had jumped on the story, exposing him for what he truly was — a manipulator, an abuser, a criminal hiding behind a veneer of respectability.

Jungkook had watched it unfold with a mix of relief and disbelief. The world was finally seeing the truth about Minseok, and you didn’t have to hide anymore.

“Well, the good thing is that they’re not on his side. They saw and heard everything, so even if he was to get himself out, he still wouldn’t be able to live the way he did before — they’ll tear him apart” Jungkook explained as he placed the cup on the table.

“Everything is going to be alright, it’s just a matter of time” she reassured him.

“I hope so. I don’t want that bastard near her ever again, or else-” he gritted his teeth.

“Jungkook,” his mother cut him off before he could finish, Jungkook hummed and turned to face her.

“The enemy you’re fighting is not fighting you because you’re weak. He’s fighting you because you’re strong. He’s fighting you because he knows what the truth is and so do you. If anything, he’s scared. He’s scared that you’re not a coward like him who hides behind money and power. Standing your ground and fighting for truth is the biggest weapon anyone could use, no matter what happens. Remember that” she said, looking into his eyes.

Jungkook wished he could snap his fingers and make everything right. But he knew it wouldn’t be that simple. You both would have to face whatever came next — together, whatever that meant. Whether you were his girlfriend or just his best friend didn’t seem so important right now. What mattered was that you were here, safe, and that he would do whatever it took to make sure you stayed that way.

━━━━━━━━━━

▍TWO DAYS LATER

The tension in the courtroom was suffocating, and you couldn’t hide your anxiety and anticipation as your eyes fixated on the judge. Your hands were tightly intertwined with Jungkook’s, who had been your rock through this whole journey.

“Everything’s going to be okay” he said.

You glanced at Jungkook who seemed a little nervous but somehow relaxed at the same time, as if he already knew what the outcome was going to be.

Across the courtroom, Minseok stood as a shell of his former self, looking dishevelled and defeated as the judge read out his sentence. The courtroom felt cold, and the air was thick. You had your eyes fixed on the floor, barely breathing as the words rang out.

“Yoo Minseok, you are sentenced to ten years in prison for abuse, assault, and fraud. As Miss Kim Y/n requested, a restraining order is placed upon your release. And any violations to the order will serve you a further three years in prison” the judge declared, his voice firm and final.

Jungkook exhaled a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. It was over. The months of manipulation, the fear you had lived in, the attack — it was all over.

You couldn't hold back your tears, not of sorrow, but of relief and joy. The weight that had burdened you for so long had finally lifted. The courtroom seemed to blur as your emotions overwhelmed you. You cried not only for yourself but for the countless others who had suffered silently under his control.

However, amidst the tears and celebration, a sudden angry scream pierced the air. It was Minseok, his face twisted with rage, as the guards began to escort him away. The sound of his furious voice startled you, and you quickly gripped onto Jungkook’s shirt.

“It’s over now baby, he’s not going to hurt you anymore” Jungkook said, placing a kiss on top of your head as he hugged you tighter. You hummed, but kept your eyes at the raging man.

His outburst was ineffective, a last desperate attempt to reclaim control over a life he had tried to shatter. But justice had conquered, and you could finally breathe freely, knowing that you were safe from his abuse.

Jungkook held you close in his arms as your body shook with sobs, crying every drop of emotions you had pent up inside you. “I love you, thank you for staying by my side” you choked in between your cries.

Jungkook kisses the top of your head, holding you even closer. “I love you too, and I’ll always be by your side. And I'm so proud of you for staying strong, and for trusting me” he said.

You looked up and smiled at him, slowly leaning in and pressing your lips on his. As years of heartbreak and suffering came to an end, you finally found your happily ever after with a man you trusted with everything — because you knew he would never hurt you like Minseok did.

𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧𝗦 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗩𝗘𝗗

@𝗷𝗸𝘀𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵𝗶𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰

©️

[bratzforchris]

Bumps n' Bruises

Summary: In which Matt just wants to play like Chris, but his body won't quite let him do that

Pairing: Little!Matt x feminine caregiver!reader x little!Chris

Warnings: Joint dislocation, chronic illness, little bit of pain and crying

Word Count: 1k

A/N: I was recently diagnosed with hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome (hEDS) (the type Matt has in this fic!), so ofc I had to project :) The zebra is the official mascot for rare disorders and I felt like that photo was very little!Matt 🩷 As always, I'm not saying/assuming that Matt actually has this syndrome, nor am I saying/assuming he's a little. Hate/unnecessary rudeness will be blocked and deleted. Enjoy<3

Matt was just like any other little in most ways. He loved stuffed animals, snuggling with his caregiver, and could easily be bribed into cleaning up his toys with a gentle promise of ice cream. Ever since he had started regressing at the recommendation of his therapist, Matt’s quality of life had drastically improved. No longer did he shut himself away in his room when the terrible feelings washed over him. Instead, he popped his paci in his mouth and got curled up on the couch or in bed with his mommy, enjoying the soft, gentle praises you showered him with. 

However, Matt’s regression wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows all the time. Having Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, especially with joint hypermobility, left the little in pain quite often. Oftentimes, a dose of ibuprofen, his heating pad, and snuggles from Mommy would do the trick to ease the physical pain, but that didn’t make the emotional part of being chronically ill suck any less. This was especially evident when Matt would watch the way his younger brother, Chris, could easily play, roll, and tumble around with no pain. 

Sharing you as their caregiver wasn’t always easy, but Matt and Chris made it work. Whereas Matt tended to lean towards a younger headspace of 1-3 and enjoyed milk and snuggles, Chris opted for a headspace of 4-6, enjoying being beyond wild, but never naughty. It was rare that the boys ever played together, simply because of their different ages. Chris enjoyed cars, trucks, and dinosaurs, while Matt liked lambs, soft lullabies, and being actively attached to your hip at all times. 

There were times though, like today, where some game clicked between the two and they would happily sit on the living room rug, sharing in each other’s company. It had started out as a relatively normal afternoon. Chris was sat on the rug, happily pushing his Hot Wheels around the “track” that he had made out of the couch cushions, while Matt sat wrapped up in his blanket, happily watching Mrs. Rachel on the television. The older of the two boys had been in a significant amount of pain earlier in the morning, complaining of “‘M bones hurt, mama”. The extra attention you’d been giving Matt due to his flare up had caused quite the whiny spell for Chris, and you silently wiped your brow, thankful for the ease in tension. 

In his small headspace, Matt didn’t know how it had happened. One moment, he was entranced in his video; the next, he was eagerly eyeing the neon orange toy car that Chris was playing with. “‘M pway too?” he asked his brother, a slight gleam in his blue eyes. 

“Matt play?” Chris hummed, happily cocking his head.

The “younger” of the two boys nodded, moving out of his blanket and scooting next to his brother. Chris handed Matt a small, blue racecar, eagerly showing him how to play with it. For the next few minutes, only the sound of happy giggles could be heard from the living room as you stood in the kitchen, stirring the mac n cheese for the boys’ lunch. It warmed your heart to hear them enjoying each other’s company, seeing as how they tended to play their own games in little space. You had just turned off the heat on the stove, when you suddenly heard a sobbing wail that could only be described as a “little Matt noise”. 

You rushed into the living room, only to see Matt with his knees drawn to his chest, cradling his right hand. Beside him, Chris had scooted slightly away from his brother, a slight look of fear crossing his features. “What happened, bubbas?” You asked softly, so as not to scare the boys anymore. 

“‘M fingew!” Matt wailed, trying to show you the injury. 

Your heart dropped when you saw Matt’s ring finger painfully dislocated, the joint of his knuckle bent at an odd angle. “Oh sweetpea,” You murmured sadly. “Can I see it?”

“No,” Matt cried. “Hurts.”

Despite Matt’s sobs, you gently took his right hand in your own, examining the dislocation. Luckily, it wasn’t terrible enough to have to go to the emergency room, but unfortunately, you were going to have to pop it back in. “Shhhh, I know, angel. Let Mama pop it back in, baby.”

Though his blue eyes filled with fear, Matt allowed you to take his hand and gently pop the joint back into place. His sobs echoed around the room for a moment, until they slowly dissipated once he shoved his thumb back into his mouth. Your heart broke for your boy, hating the way his condition put him in so much pain. Thankfully, Matt wasn’t much taller or heavier than you, so you gently lifted him onto your hip, setting the down of you down onto the couch. The boy immediately curled into your side, sniffling softly as he sucked his thumb, which allowed you to glance over at Chris, who was still curled into the corner, anxiously looking on. 

“Hey bubba,” You hummed with a soft smile. “Wanna do me a big favor?”

Chris nodded eagerly, always a “helper” little one. “Mhm!”

“Can you go get Matt an ice pack for his finger, please?”

Chris nodded enthusiastically, scurrying off towards the kitchen, eager to help. While you waited, you gently plucked Matt’s thumb from his mouth, replacing it instead with his sunny, yellow pacifier that was laying on the coffee table. By the time Chris returned, carrying an animal shaped ice pack, Matt was almost asleep, yawning widely. Nevertheless, you placed the coldness onto his hand, hoping it would ease some of the discomfort from the dislocation. The younger of the two littles hopped up onto the couch beside you, snuggling into your side as well. 

You were silently thankful for the fact that you had turned the stove and the oven off before the fiasco, knowing there was no way the littles were letting go of you now. Matt was beginning to nap in your lap, while Chris grabbed the TV remote, eagerly flipping the television to Cars with a happy giggle. And yet, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[suzayaaa]

ೃ⁀➷ 11:47 PM ☆.｡.:*

𓆩⟡𓆪 pairing: anton x reader

𓆩⟡𓆪 word count: 1.0k

𓆩⟡𓆪 themes: fluff, established relationship

𓆩⟡𓆪 warnings: thunderstorm

𓆩⟡𓆪 suza’s note: first anton post yippee

The storm is loud. It’s heavy, dark, and almost agonizing, and as you’re choosing a movie to watch, you can’t help but look outside the window. It’s something between awe and terror—the sky, although dark and kind of foggy, roars every few seconds, making the silence of your and Anton’s shared apartment somewhat disturbing.

You don’t think much of it when your feet carry you through the dark home to the spare room. You open the door softly. The blue light from the computer screen gleams on his face, defining his features in the otherwise unlit room. You walk over to him and tug at his sleeve. He flinches, eyes jolt to your face only to relax immediately.

He moves the headphones from his head to his neck. “Yeah? What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing?” You look at the screen and observe the character’s flowy movements in the game’s lobby.

“Playing, wasting time,” he sighs as he turns his chair toward your body. His big hands land on your waist, touching it through the material of your pajamas barely, but securely. “Why? Is everything okay?”

You hum and the room and the sky flash pure white for two seconds and a loud growl follows. It echoes through the walls to the floor and to your feet, crumbling into your skin and clutching your muscles and lungs and throat and squeezing the air out of you in one sharp motion. Just as your hands grip Anton’s forearm, the world turns quiet and black again. You look back at Anton, not realizing your head snapped toward the window, and gulp.

“Hey,” he massages your sides with his thumbs, eyeing you attentively, “it’s okay. Come here.”

He pulls you closer until you’re sat on his lap. Your face buries in his chest, calves hanging loose on the side of his gaming chair as your fingers start to play with the hem of his shirt. His left hand moves to your hip to steady you and the other one goes back to the keyboard lit up in a pretty neon rainbow.

“I’m not that scared of thunders,” you mumble into his body, although you’re pretty sure you don’t sound that confident. “This one is just kinda,” your voice fades away because you don’t really know how to describe it.

It’s big, loud, and scary, and every time you look at the blinding thunders or hear the grumbling noises it feels as if it’s coming straight for you, your boyfriend, your apartment, and everything and everyone else around you; as if it’s going to strike right through your window and kill both of you, or worse—kill one of you and leave the other one in eternal pain, fear, and agony of losing a partner and make one of you suffer every time there is a storm.

“I know, I could hear it through the headphones, even though I think they’re noise-cancelling. I thought you’d be asleep by now.” His soft breath fans the top of your head as he logs off the game and closes all apps. You glance at the time in the right corner of the screen—11:47 pm—and hum.

“I wanted to watch a movie. Not like I’d be able to fall asleep anyway.” Anton chuckles at that, and although it comes off awkwardly, you ease into his chest when it vibrates against your ear.

“We can do it now if you want,” he offers as he turns his PC off. The keyboard and the mouse’s neons slowly fade out, leaving you in pitch black.

You hum absentmindedly. The storm seems closer without the light, more real. Your muscles stiffen at the thunder growls, even under your boyfriend’s touch.

His arms move under your knees and back as he pushes the chair away from the desk and gets up. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, although he doesn’t display any trouble carrying you.

You arrive at the living room. The TV is still on. The list of shows and movies you saved to watch later is your only source of light, but it’s enough.

He lays you on the couch and you sit up, feeling the cotton under your palms until a remote lands in your hand. In the meantime, Anton goes to the kitchen and comes back with leftover snacks crunched up in his fingers. He puts the bag on your lap and you move to the edge of the seat, making space for him to lay down. When he does, you drop the remote onto his chest, pull the coffee table closer to the couch to place the bag of snacks on it, and finally lay yourself on top of him. You cover your bodies with a blanket you grabbed earlier and wrap your arms around his neck. Before your head lands on his chest, he takes the remote from it.

“What do you want to watch?” You hear just when you are about to ask.

“I don’t know. Something not scary.” He fiddles with the remote for a good minute and then you see the search bar slowly fill up with letters—your comfort movie.

You can’t help a soft smile grace your features and you know Anton is also smiling from the way his hand, the one that is free of the remote, squeezes your waist, and his lips press a peck to the top of your head. It’s a small reminder of his love, a silent message of what you are to him and what he is to you, but it brings such relief to your mind and body, melting you into him under the warmth trapped by the blanket.

As the movie’s first scenes roll out and Anton’s light breaths fan over your head, you slowly forget about the sharp lightning bolts dancing in the sky. Anton’s big arms over you, his cologne tickling your nose, the comfort of his presence pulling on your muscles and tendons and setting them free, light like a feather. It’s all so familiar, but so lovely, and paired with his steady heartbeat, you let yourself fully relax for the first time tonight.

Because everything is and will be alright—as long as you’re in his arms.

suzayaaa 2024 𓆩⟡𓆪

[thegnomelord]

16 for ghost. Ghost is upset or stressd and can't sleep so he's out training/working out very late into the night by himself and reader finds him like that. Ghost likes reader but hates showing vulnerability so he says he doesn't want help or comfort but reader is very stubborn. M! reader please.

Sure thing anon, tried to make angst but this just turned out sweet :/, Play the game HERE

Prompt: "What are you doing up so late?"

CW:SFW, M reader, established relationship, fluff,

Neon green numbers slowly blink in and out of existence, taunting, mocking. Simon's eyes burn from how long he's been staring at the clock, ears straining to catch every stuttered staccato breath and slow wheeze leaving your chest. The pillow beneath his cheek is cold, the sheets are cold, his body is cold. And you're warmth is right there, just an inch away, yet it feels like there's a canyon between you and him.

His eyes linger on your exposed chest, the deep dark bruises marking your skin along your entire side. It's his fault you ended up with bruised lungs, got distracted for a few seconds and the next thing he knows you're getting thrown out the window. . . His gums itch, his knuckles itch; he needs to bite something, punch it, stab it, tear it apart.

Silent as the grave he shuffles out of the bed, careful not to wake you despite the pain meds making you sleep like a log. Static buzzes in his knuckles with a desire to touch you, to feel a semblance of your warmth, but he holds off. He needs to be better first. Needs to drown in rage and violence until he floods out the weakness that had hurt you.

So he silently leaves your shared room.

. . . .

You don't notice when you wake up, don't know why you wake up when the pain, exhaustion, and meds hang heavy on your eyelids, but your body refuses to go under, hummingbirds 'tap, tap' tapping on your skull.

With a wheezy groan you turn over slowly, blindly searching for Simon only to come up empty. Blinking the sleep from your eyes you confirm what you already know, your fingers feeling the indents of Simon's body in the mattress and the lingering heat there. Your eyes settle on the blinking green numbers, a deep scowl tugging on your lips as you realize it's way too early for his shit.

It takes you a bit to get up, bones crackling like popcorn and a long low wheeze escaping you, needles stabbing your side with every breath. You slip on those bunny slippers Simon had gotten you as a gag gift, grumbling curses under your breath like an old man as you shuffle out of your shared room.

You're not even surprised when you find him in the gym, the rhythmic 'thunk' of something getting hit drawing you in like a moth to a flame. "What are you doing up so late?" You ask, leaning against the doorframe.

He doesn't react, doesn't even turn to you, just continues to punch the sand bag. "What's'it look like?" He asks, voice rough like gravel.

"Like you're doing something stupid." You hum, forcing out a low breath of humor and the sharp wheeze your lungs give makes him stop to look at you.

Simon frowns beneath his balaclava, fists clenching, the bandages around his knuckles already speckled with dried blood. "'m training, which you could do too," Simon grunts, that same itch in his body returning with you nearby, when the harsh lights overhead make your bruises even darker. "Go back to sleep, I'll only be a few more minutes."

"'Few more minutes' yeah right," You scoff and trudge towards him. "You're going to end up dead on your feet."

"At least I'll make a pretty corpse." He snorts, tuning you out as the itch in his body grows more annoying, brief relief flooding his veins with every satisfying punch he lands on the sandbag. But hate keeps nibbling on his brain, his eyes keep wandering to the dark bruises across your shirtless torso and reigniting that need inside him.

There's no talking about this. Time for drastic actions.

You watch him punch the sandbag a few more times, drawing closer and closer until, at the last swing he does and attempts to sidestep the swinging sandbag, you bite your lip and grip him by the waist and haul him over your shoulder like he's a sack of potatoes.

"What the fuck?" He yelps, instinctively grabbing whatever he can reach, blunt nails clawing at your back and shoulders. You wheeze from how his weight pulls on your bruised ribs, but the ache and pain is easy to ignore when he makes such a surprised noise, like a dog that thinks it's too heavy to be lifted.

"Sleep time." You growl through your pain, swiftly turning on your heel to avoid the swinging punching bag and slapping his ass, keeping your hand there to keep him firmly over your shoulder.

Simon's brain completely short circuits when you slap his ass, a sound like a strangled dog leaving his throat. "Fuckin' wanker." He growls, thinks of struggling but goes against it, doesn't want to hurt you more than he already has.

"You love me." You snort in turn, keeping a brisk pace to make it back to your room.

"That's a strong word." Simon says, but there's no heat in his tone, and he lets himself be thrown back onto the bed, the springs creaking beneath his weight.

"It's the correct word." You counter, finally letting out a sound of pain as you settle next to him, needles growing from your ribs to stab everything around them. "But you're a dick for making you look for you."

Before he can shift away you reach out, laying awkwardly as you are you unwrap his bandaged fingers, your eyes never leaving his. You can see the thoughts turning in his head; too much to say yet nothing to talk about, half growl ideas leeching on his mind, violence with no outlet turning to snarl back at his face—

"We'll talk in the morning, yeah?" You ask, blindly throwing the bandages away. "Just sleep with me," You pause, looking beneath your lashes to give him the puppy eyes Soap had taught you. "please?"

Simon's jaw tenses and he breathes out slowly, accepting the open door without the fear of being leashed, just as slowly rolling around until he's half on top of you, one arm thrown around your waist. "Fine." He grumbles, rests his head next to yours, scarred fingers tracing from your hip up to your pec, nails slightly dipping beneath the bandages.

"What, not even going to kiss me good night?" You tease, pushing your luck despite knowing it's not the best idea.

"Need a bedtime story too?" He says, but still reaches to pull his mask up to his nose, giving you more of a nuzzle than a kiss on your cheek before you shift and kiss him. It's chaste, nothing but a brush of lips, but it leaves him warm all the same.

"Would you tell me one if I asked nicely?" You ask, chuckling softly, resting your hand on top of his, letting him trace the darkened bruises from your pec down along your ribs and back again.

"Only if you ask me very nicely." You feel Simon rumble against you, your noses brushing together as you feel his hand slow in it's movement, sleep deprivation starting to claw on his mind. "Hey, why do nurses creep around at night?" He suddenly asks.

"God, I'm going to regret this." You groan, preparing yourself. "Why?"

You feel him chuckle preemptively, "So they don't wake the sleeping pills." He grins against your skin as you groan,

"You're so lucky I'm too tired else I'd beat you with a pillow." Your words only make him chuckle more, the rough sound ringing softly between you two until it slowly dies down, your breathing synchronizing bit by bit until finally you fall asleep, Simon right next to you. . .

Sweet dreams