#and this really reminded me why I wanted to write Losing Hope in the first place!!

[reidtina]

Restrained

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content warnings: +18 MDI sex, roleplay, handcuffs, petnames, orgasm, creampie (youre on the pill tho and youre married), idk

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: Spencer Reid and Y/N had been married for nearly 10 years, and things got a little boring in the bedroom department, so they decided to spice things up a little. Tonight they're using his handcuffs for something other than arresting criminals...

a/n: this is my first spencer fic, so idk if its good, hope yall like it just as much as I liked writing it. Btw, its also on ao3, as always. love you guys. If you enjoy it pls like and repost

You and Spencer had been dating for nearly 10 years (9 years, 8 months and 24 days, like he pointed out earlier), and had been married for about half of this time, and you quickly found out that the whole “couples stop having sex after a while of being married” thing is not entirely bullshit. It’s not like you didn’t ever have sex, but with work and him being out of town all the time things just got colder, you did have sex, but it wasn’t so exciting and to be honest, as much as you were attracted to each other, it felt more like a chore. So that’s why you decided to try something new every week, you missed the beginning stages of dating and how a minor touch turned into you two sweating and trying to breath as your bodies collided in the most delicious dance.

Tonight’s idea wasn’t entirely new, you always had a thing for him wearing his FBI bulletproof vest or anything that reminded you that he was an FBI agent, a really hot one, by the way. And when you brought up the idea, he was more than willing to try, he had been meaning to try new things as well, as he had read that it’s a good idea to spice things up so the marriage don’t become boring and falls apart.

So tonight, when he got home from a work trip, still wearing his suit and looking extra hot, he decided to try out your suggestion, taking the opportunity as you had said it’d be even hotter if you weren’t expecting it, adding spontaneity to the mix.

He opened the door just to find you on the couch, reading a book and drinking a glass of wine wearing only an old shirt of his and pajama shorts. He grins at the sight, he loves to watch you read, but it makes him want to rip your clothes off. When you look up at him, you know what’s going to happen next.

“I’ve heard someone here hasn’t been exactly a good girl” he feels a little embarrassed to say this, but the look on your face quickly makes him lose any embarrassment he could possible feel.

“Am I not a good girl?” you ask as you put down your book on the side table next to the glass of wine. He pretends to consider this as he sits down next to you on the couch “Well, most of the time you are a very good girl… but you can be naughty sometimes too.”

You smirk, starting to enjoy this “Oh, yeah?” you ask almost in a whisper.

“Oh, don’t play coy with me,” he says, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “I can think of a few times just last week when you were being very naughty”

“Like when?” you whisper.

“Oh, I could give you a list if I wanted to,” he answers, his lips now grazing your neck. “But I can think of one specific instance that really stood out.”

“And what was it?” you genuinely had no idea what he could say, considering that with this whole “let’s spice up our marriage” thing you had been having insane amounts of sex and doing all sorts of new things.

His hand slips under your shirt, his fingertips gently tracing along your skin. “Let’s just say that little stunt you pulled in front of the bedroom mirror a week ago really got me going.”

Now you remember, last week he fingered you in front of the full length mirror you have in your room and made you watch. You lean into his ear and whisper “Oh, you mean when you fingered me in front of the mirror so I could watch it?”

He shivers at your words, his hand clutching at your hip. “Yes, that, exactly that,” he growls in your ear. “I really loved that little show you put on.”

You raise your eyebrow in a fake surprise and ask “Did you?”

He nods, his hand slowly moving up your torso again. “Mhmm, I especially enjoyed the sounds you were making.”

You smirk and say “I can't help myself when your fingers are inside me”. His hand finally reaches its destination, cupping your breast, he’s always glad you don’t wear a bra when you’re home. “I know you can’t. And I certainly enjoy it.” He nips at your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. “I was so excited about it, in fact, that I wanted to reward you right then.”

“Maybe you should reward me right now.” you whisper back to him. A low growl escapes his throat as he pulls back slightly to look you in the eyes. “Oh really? You think you’re ready for a reward now? Don’t you think you’ve been a bad girl?”

“I guess it’s your job to find out, Agent Reid.” you say, the title you just called him making you even wetter.

He moves closer, his body pressing against yours. “You know, I’ll have to conduct a thorough investigation to make sure you’re a good girl…” You chuckle and reply “Do what you must, agent.”

He grins, clearly enjoying the roleplay. “Oh, I plan on it.” He suddenly stands, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you up along with him. “Now, come with me. I need to thoroughly investigate.” You stand up and he guides you down the short hallway to your bedroom, walking backwards and keeping his eyes firmly fixed on you. He pushes the door open and steps inside, pulling you in behind him. “Now, we’ll need somewhere to conduct this investigation…” He looks around the room pretending to look for something, before his gaze settles on the bed, a knowing look in his eyes.

He pushes you back towards the bed, gently guiding you down to sit on the edge of the mattress. “First, we’ll need to begin searching for any evidence of bad behavior…”  He steps back slightly and pretends to look you over intently, as if inspecting you for any indications of misconduct.

“Mmm, I’m not seeing anything so far…” he says, his eyes roaming over your body. “But, just to be safe, I will need you to lie down, please.” Not even a second after he said that, you’re laying down on the bed.

He steps forward again, standing in between your legs, his gaze hungrily taking in the sight of you. “Mmm, much better. The more evidence there is, the better…” He slowly reaches down, his hands roaming up your bare legs, he loves it when all you’re wearing is one of his old shirts and really short shorts. “Now,” he continues, his voice lower and huskier now. “How far does the evidence go?”

His hands continue to move up up your legs, reaching the hem of your shirt and pulling it up slightly. “Let’s start here,” he mutters, his hands gently pushing your shirt up further, exposing your stomach. “I need to make sure no bad behavior is hiding under here…” His hands continue up, inching your shirt even higher as he takes his time inspecting your body for any signs of “bad behavior”.

 “Looks all clear so far… but I can’t be too careful…” He lifts the shirt up over your head, gently removing it and tossing it aside. “Ah, much better. Now I can see my evidence a lot clearer.”  He grins mischievously, his eyes raking over your bare chest. “And I see a few things I should inspect more closely…”

You breathe deeply as he gets closer to your breasts with his face and you can feel his hot breath on your bare skin. He looks up at you, his eyes full of lust. “Mmm yes, I see some very important evidence here that I need to get a closer look at…”

He grins at your response, his lips now ghosting over your skin. “Excellent. I’ll need to take my time with these…they’re very important to the case.” He moves closer, his mouth finally making contact with your skin as he slowly starts peppering kisses along your chest and you moan softly. He smirks at the sound of your moan, his lips curving against your skin. “Yes, don’t hold back your sounds, sweetheart. I need to hear every response.” He continues kissing across your chest, his tongue occasionally darting out to taste your skin.

He moves in, his lips hovering just above your skin as he speaks. “You don’t mind if I have a closer look, do you? You have to collaborate with this federal investigation” You shake your head “I don’t mind, go ahead, agent.”

“So far, this evidence is turning out to be very good…” he mutters against your skin, moving towards your right nipple. “But I think I need to investigate further…” His mouth moves closer to your nipple, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your sensitive skin. “I see something very interesting right here…” He stops just short of your nipple, looking up at you with a sly grin. “But before I get started, I’ll to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind.”

You sigh with disappointment and say “Go ahead.” He grins, enjoying teasing you, his mouth still hovering tantalizingly close to your breast. “Good. This won’t take long, I just need to make sure you’re being honest with me, sweetheart.” He pauses, waiting for a hint of confirmation from you before continuing, you nod.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his breath tickling your skin. “Now, the first question is… do you know why you’re being investigated today?”

“No, sir, why?” you ask in fake innocence. He smiles, continuing his teasing. “Well, reports claim that you’ve been quite naughty recently…” He lifts his head slightly, his eyes meeting yours. “Is that true? Have you been naughty lately?”

“That wouldn't be me, agent.” you say, trying to hold back a grin.

“You know lying to law enforcement is illegal, right? And the sources say you’ve been doing some very naughty things…” he counters, his lips still a breath away from your skin. “Oh, yeah? Like what?” you try to look surprised. He grins again, his lips now grazing your skin. “Oh, various things…but especially this little incident that just happened a week ago…” He leans in closer to your ear as he whispers, “I think you know what I’m speaking of.”

“I have no idea, agent, what is it?” you want to hear him saying. He laughs softly. “Oh, don’t play coy with me. I know how good your memory is…” He moves back, his gaze holding yours firmly. “Do I need to remind you what happened, miss?”

“Yes, agent Reid.”

He smirks, enjoying the roleplay more and more. “Okay, maybe I can jog your memory, then.” A shiver runs through him as he speaks, remembering the night in question. “Think about a week ago. What happened with us in front of the mirror?”

You smirk just from thinking of it. “Do you mean when you fingered me to tears and made me watch?” He lets out a soft chuckle, his fingers digging into your legs slightly. “Yes, exactly that… and how did that make you feel?”

“Good as fuck… sir.” You pause before calling him sir, still a little shy about the roleplay. He laughs, his teeth scraping against your collarbone. “I know it did. You were making the most delicious sounds…”  He leans in close to your ear, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “But don’t you think that was naughty behavior?”

“Maybe it was, agent.” You pretend to look innocent, but deep down you just want him to punish you in the hottest ways possible. He chuckles, clearly not buying your act. “Maybe it was? I think it was.” He moves his head back to look you in the eyes again, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. “And do you think naughty behavior deserves a punishment?”

“Absolutely.” You nod, eager for whatever punishment he decides to give you. He grins, clearly enjoying this game just as much as you. “Good answer. So you admit that you deserve to be punished for being naughty?”

“Yes.”

“And if you admit that you deserve a punishment, then you should also agree to take this punishment like a good girl, shouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely, agent.”

“Correct. And luckily I have just the punishment in mind for you…” He moves back, standing up straight. “Since you seem so eager for your punishment, I think I’ll just start with it right now.” He looks down at you, a devilish gleam in his eyes. “Now, I need you to do something for me, okay?”

“What is it?” you ask, barely able to wait for him to touch you.

He smiles, his fingers gently tracing along your legs. “I need you to sit up for me, please.”

 You sit back up as he asked.

“Good girl” he says, his voice soft and approving. “Now, I’m just going to grab something quickly, alright?” He turns away, grabbing his handcuffs from his drawer in the nightstand.

He looks back at you, holding up the handcuff with a smirk. “Perfect. Now, hold your hands out, please.”

“Such a good girl.” He says when you hold your hands in front of your body. He moves forward, carefully handcuffing you. He looks down at his work, inspecting your hands with a nod. “Looks good. Now, lie back down.” As you lie down, he moves back up to the bed, crawling up to kneel between your legs. “Now, I have another request for you.” He pauses, his hand gently trailing up your legs. “I need you to keep your legs open for me… don’t move them at all.”

You open your legs, and now your panties are picking out from the waistband of your shorts. He grins, his eyes roaming hungrily over your body. “Good girl. You know how to listen well…” He reaches down, his fingers sliding up under your shorts, slowly pushing it down to reveal more of your skin. “But you don’t move your legs until I say so, do you understand?”

“Understood, agent Reid.” you say and feel kinda proud you’re also a Reid. “Very good.” He moves closer, now hovering just above you. “You’re a perfect little canvas to work with right now.” He rests a hand on your stomach, tracing small circles with his fingertips. “But I do need to know something else first…”

“What is it, agent?” you ask genuinely curious and eager for him to just touch you already. He grins, clearly enjoying the fact that you’re eager and desperate for his touch. “I need to know how badly you want this. How badly do you want me to touch you right now?”

“Really bad.”

He laughs lightly at your response. “I can see that. But I need you to tell me in words. How badly do you want me?”

“I want you really bad.”

He leans down, his mouth hovering just above your body. “And I know you’re desperate for my touch, aren’t you?”

“I am.” That couldn’t be more true.

He moves down, now resting on his forearms as he positions himself between your legs. “I can see that. You’re practically trembling… begging for me to touch you…”

“It’s torture.” You say.

“I know. But I need to be thorough. I need to collect all the evidence that I can… and I’m finding plenty of evidence that you’re being desperate and needy…”

“Does it mean I'm being a bad girl?” you ask teasingly.

He lets out a soft chuckle. “Yes, I would say it does. You’re having such a desperate, needy reaction to me right now… it’s incredibly bad girl behavior.” He leans down and kisses your inner thigh. “But you’re also being a good girl, because you haven’t closed your legs yet…”

“I'm not all bad, you see?” You smirk.

He smiles up at you, his mouth still trailing kisses on your thigh. “Mhm, and I’ve also discovered that you’re being a very good girl, because you’ve been so eager and compliant… it’s making the evidence collection very easy for me. But you know what I really want to do right now?” He looks up at you, a gleam in his eyes.

“What?”

He moves back up, his mouth hovering just above yours. “I really want to taste you…”

A smirk takes over your mouth as you ask. “And what's stopping you from doing so?”

He laughs, his lips just barely grazing against yours as he speaks. “Nothing. But first I need a little confirmation from you, sweetheart.”

“Confirmed.” You say softly as you nod eagerly.

“Perfect.”

He presses his lips to yours in a deep, hungry kiss. As he kisses you, his hands begin to roam up and down your body, gently exploring every inch of skin.

He gently tugs at the fabric of your shorts without breaking the kiss. “Mmm, this is in the way.”

“Take it off, agent.” you whisper.

He smirks at your eagerness, and then moves back, his hands moving to the hem of your shorts. “I will. But first I have something else I want to do.”

“Something ELSE?” You sigh in frustration “What is it now?”

He laughs lightly at you reaction. “My needy girl is impatient, is she?” He reaches up and pushes his hand into the side of your hair, tugging gently until your head is tilted back. “I just want to ask you one more question, sweetheart.”

“What?”

He leans in, his mouth by your ear. “Do you know why I want to taste you so badly?”

“Why, sir?” you shiver at the feeling of his breath on your skin.

“Because you look so delicious right now.”  You smirk at the complement.

He moves back, his gaze raking over your body. “With your arms restricted and your little short barely covering your thighs… it’s too tempting. I need a taste.”

“Have it, please.” You’re begging now.

He grins, clearly amused by how desperate you are. “Mmm, since you asked so nicely, I think I will.” He moves down, his mouth going to your thighs, slowly kissing and running his tongue along your skin.

His mouth travels higher and higher, until he finally reaches the edge of your shorts. He looks up at you, a glint in his eyes. “These are a bit of a blockade, aren’t they?”

You nod and say “I hate those.”

He smiles, his fingers hooking under the waistband of your shorts and your panties as well. “Then I’ll just have to take care of that problem…” He starts to tug at your shorts and panties, slowly sliding both of them down your legs. “There we go…”He pulls them off, dropping them to the ground beside the bed. He looks down at you, a look of pure hunger in his eyes. “Mmm, now I have complete access… and I’m going to enjoy taking my time with you.”

He lowers himself back down, his mouth continuing its journey along your body. His lips and tongue trail up your legs, then along your inner thighs until finally, they’re where you want them most. He pauses for a moment, his eyes meeting yours. “You taste so sweet… just like I knew you would.” You moan at the praise.

He smiles, clearly enjoying the noise you’re making. “I like that sound.”

He starts to move again, his tongue flickering against your flesh as he explores it. “So needy and desperate… my little sweet treat…” You can feel his nose on your clit while his tongue is exploring your pussy. He moans softly, enjoying the feeling of your body trembling underneath him, the vibration of the moan stimulating you even more. “You’re being so good for me, sweetheart.”

He continues to use his mouth to devour you as if he can’t get enough of you. “I’m going to drive you insane.” He says, but he’s already driving you fucking crazy, he always does, no one eats pussy like Spencer Reid.

“You already are.” you say through heavy breaths, your whole body trembling. He laughs lightly. “But I’m not done yet.” He looks up at you, his eyes holding yours as his tongue continues to work. “I’m going to play with you until I’m satisfied… and right now, I am far from satisfied.”

The look on his eyes combined with his pussy eating abilities make your whole body tenses up and then, a few seconds later, it relaxes in an orgasm as you scream. He grins, clearly pleased with your response. “There it is.” He says moving back up your body, his mouth now on your neck. “I love making you scream.”

“Fuck, Spencer.” you say, trying to catch your breath again. He laughs against your skin. “I love hearing you swear.” He presses his body against yours, his mouth by your ear. “And I’m not done with you yet.”

“Thankfully, cause I'm not either.” You say, already ready for more of him.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your enthusiasm. “I knew you’d want more.” He rolls over onto his back, pulling you up on top of him so that you’re now straddling his hips. “I’m not going to release your hands just yet.” He looks up at you, his hands going to your hips. “But you look so pretty like this… all tied up on top of me…”

You smirk, his compliments still making you blush, even after being married for so long, maybe that’s true love. He smiles, he knows and loves the fact that you’re still so affected by his words. “And it gives me so many possibilities.” He looks up at you, a glint in his eyes. “For example, I could just pin you down and do whatever I want to you right now…”

“… but instead I’m going to let you do the work.”

He loosens his grip on your hips slightly, giving you the freedom to move. “How does that sound to you, sweetheart?”

You nod “I like it, agent.”

“Good girl.” He smiles, his hands roaming up and down your sides. “Now I want you to start riding my thigh, sweetheart.” You start moving your hips back and forth, creating friction between his pants and your clit. He moans softly, his hands still on your hips. “There you go, princess. Just like that… nice and slow. You look so pretty like this.” He has always liked the sensation of you pleasuring yourself on him. He moans softly, the opposite of your own loud moans, his hands gripping your hips a little tighter. “You’re so needy and desperate… it’s driving me wild.”

“Can you please fuck me?” you finally ask.

He grins at your forwardness, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. “You want me to, sweetheart?”

You pause your movements and nod. “Yes, agent.”

“Then you’re going to have to beg for it.” You’d get on your fucking knees and beg if you had to. “Please, agent Reid, you said you'd reward me if you found I've been a good girl, and I have, you didn't find any evidence of bad behavior.”

He laughs lightly at your pleading as if he hadn’t asked for it. “I did say that, didn't I?” He moves his hands up to your sides, his thumb tracing circles on your skin. “And you’ve been such a good girl for me, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I have.”

He smiles, his hands roaming up and down your body. “Then I suppose you should have your reward, shouldn’t you?”

“Please.”

He moves his hands down to your thighs, his fingers trailing up and down your skin. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m going to give you what you want. But first I need you to get off me and lie back down on the bed. Hands above your head, just how I like it.”

You smirk and do as he told you to. He grins, clearly enjoying the fact that you’re obeying him. “Good girl. You’re just being so obedient for me, and that’s how I like you… so obedient and pliable. Doing whatever I tell you to, no questions asked.”

He moves up, now hovering over you. “Now, I want you to keep your hands above your head. Don’t moving them at all, understood, sweetheart?”

“Yes, agent.”

“Good girl.”

He starts to kiss and bite your skin, his mouth moving down to your collarbone. His hands roam up and down your sides, his touch leaving a trail of heat across your skin. He moves back up to your mouth, his lips crashing into yours in a deep kiss. His mouth devours yours, his tongue exploring every inch of your mouth.

He looks down at you, his eyes practically eating your body. “You look so pretty like this… all tied up and desperate… so obedient… and all for me…” He leans down, his mouth attacking your neck. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of this.”

He pulls back from the kiss, his eyes roaming down your body. His hands move to his belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. He looks up at you as he takes off  his blazer and throws it on the floor then takes off his tie and opens his shirt, revealing his body.

When he already threw all off it on the floor, he leans in, his mouth attacking your neck once more, leaving a trail of kisses and bites along your skin. His hands roam down your body, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He gets up and looks down at you, taking in the sight of you in nothing as he unzips his pants, pushes them down and tosses them to the side, leaving him in his boxer briefs. “Mmm, now we’re more equal, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

You chuckle “Almost”

He smirks, his eyes roaming over your body. “Almost.” He agrees as he pulls his boxers off revealing his big dick and then crawls over you, his body covering yours. He looks down at you, a smile spreading across his face. “Now there’s no barriers between us.”

“Like it should be” you whisper.

He smiles pleased by your answer. “That’s exactly right, sweetheart.” He nuzzles into your neck, his lips trailing kisses along your skin. He then places his dripping tip on your entrance and looks you in the eye as he slides it in. He’s watching your reaction as he pushes in, his hands gripping your thighs, his eyes locked on your face the whole time. “You feel so good” he says and you both moan when he’s fully inside you.

He looks down at you, his face full of need. “You feel so good around me, sweetheart. So tight and so eager….”

He moans softly, his grip on your thighs tightening. “I’m not going to last long if you keep doing that…” he says when you moan his name into his ear.

You put your legs up his shoulders, making him hit the spot that makes you both go crazy. He hisses as he hits it, his head rolling back. “Fuuuck, you’re going to make me lose control.“ You’re nearly crying outta pleasure and it's getting hard to keep your hands up.

“I can tell you’re getting tense… you’re not going to be able to hold out for much longer, are you?” You shake your head and say “No.” He knows you and your body so well, that’s the result of nearly 10 years of marriage.

He grins, loving the power he has over you in this moment. "But I'm not done with you yet sweetheart."

Your breath becomes heavier and faster as you’re reaching the second orgasm of the night “I’m getting close.” you manage to say through moans and heavy breaths.

He keeps the pace steady. "I want you to let yourself go. I want you to give into the feeling." his words were all you needed to allow the orgasm to take over your body.

He feels you tighten around him as you orgasm and he whispers in your ear "That's it… good girl.”

He keeps moving, his movements more urgent, more desperate now as he’s trying to reach his own orgasm. He can tell he’s getting close, the feeling starting to overwhelm him, his muscles tensing. “Sweetheart… I can’t hold back any longer…”

“Cum inside me.” You ask, but he always did, you were on the pill anyways, but saying it felt so hot.

He starts moving faster, driven by your words of encouragement. His breath quick as his hands slide down your body leaving his fingerprints all over your skin. He’s getting close, you can tell. His body is tense, his eyes locked on yours. He shudders with pleasure as he reaches his orgasm, his eyes locked on yours, his breath ragged and labored. “That was incredible.” He says as he collapses on top of you, his body trembling with aftershocks.

You take a deep breath before agreeing. “Yes, it was.”

He buries his face in your neck, still trying to catch his breath. “Sweetheart, you were amazing. You are amazing. Always”

You smile at the praise and say your favorite words. “I love you, Spencer.”

He smiles back as he replies “I love you, Y/N.” he pauses before saying. “Now I need to get those handcuffs’ keys, we don’t want you restrained forever”

You chuckle, “Oh, you better know where they are.”

[sillygoofyqueer]

I came across your MDZS fic and it’s amazing and I just wanted to say I appreciate the extreme angst because it’s so well written! (I love angst and your fic is the best I’ve seen in awhile) tho ngl at one point I was wondering if MXY would be brought back as a fierce corpse like WN. Kinda glad you didn’t go that route but also I’m crying over WWX taking care of MXY’s ribbon. Thank you for writing this!

Am I crying??? Maybe I am, but you'll never know. In all honesty, this is so so sweet, I'm so glad that you're enjoying reading it! It actually never crossed my mind to bring Mo Xuanyu as a fierce corpse, and thinking about it now I'm also glad I didn't go down that route. I think it'd kind of take away from the whole thing of another stranger dying just so he could survive - if Mo Xuanyu came back, it'd minimise the sacrifice, I think. It's like Mo Xuanyu would still get a shot at life like Wen Ning did, which means that his death was able to be rectified. It shows the cruelty of Jin Guangyao as well, because it shows that he doesn't care about anyone that doesn't help his goal? Conversely, there would be a good touch of angst if every time Wei Wuxian saw Mo Xuanyu, he was reminded that this teenager is undead because of him (bonus points if he was the one to raise Mo Xuanyu, because then there would be the internal argument of selfishness vs selflessness for bringing the boy back). However, that could definitely still be shown through the ribbon as a constant reminder? If that makes sense. Once again, thank you so so so much for sending this, I'm passing out with such joy, sobbing my eyes out fr!!! Don't mind my rambling, but I love that you cared enough to actually mention the alternative in the ask, it really got me thinking because it's such an interesting change that I can't believe I didn't think of. I love you so soso soooo much, and I'm going feral at the insinuation that you like my fanfic this much! I LOVE YOU!!!!

[earthtooz]

x : TO LOVE, TO CHANGE: *+ﾟ

in which: you tell veritas you love him. he gets upset with you.

warnings: contrary to what the synopsis implies, it's fluff, i promise. 1k words, first time saying ily, slightly cranky reader, no mentions of reader's gender, dr. ratio being so in love he becomes so soppy and lovestruck. confessions.

a/n: there's a phenomenon that happens whenever i write for dr. ratio, and it's that my heart literally lunges out of my chest and begins typing at the keyboard for me. i should get it checked out. anyways, this is to preemptively celebrate his release!!

“Why- why are you mad?” You exclaim, watching the way Veritas crosses his arms and pouts with the petulance of a child. His gaze has strayed away from your eyes, and all you can do is sit in his lap with your arms hanging at your sides, brain tirelessly racking for all the reasons that you could have angered him.

He doesn’t give you any clues, displeasure brewing in his eyes instead.

“Is it because I said ‘I love you’?”

The purple haired scoffs and sticks up his nose, hair bouncing with his actions whilst you jostle slightly on his legs from the quick action. As much as you love his side profile, you’d love it even more if he spoke to you about what is bothering him.

During this moment, the world stills. You think he’s genuinely mad, and Dr. Ratio’s fury-driven state is not something you should take lightly. Really, you’ve seen it multiple times, and though it has never been directed at you, you hope it never will be. Which is why you sit on his lap now, tensely anticipating his response, and for the answer as to what you did wrong. 

“I was meant to say it first,” he grumbles, losing the arrogance that fills his tone whenever he speaks, air filling with sincerity. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I was meant to be the one to say ‘I love you’ first.”

Your confusion is tangible at this point. Audible, if you will, because it rings like cicada sing. “Are you being serious?”

“Deadly.”

“You- why, then couldn’t you just have said it?” You sputter, slapping his defined deltoid, concern slowly melting into frustration. “Need I remind you that it was me who confessed to you first as well?”

“Yes, and it was positively the best day of my life.” He says that like it’s a simple fact. No sentiment, no heartfelt declaration, just another logical statement straight from a textbook of his life.

They say to be loved is to be changed, but no matter how much you love Veritas, all he knows is how to be an astronomical pain in your ass. Does he know how scared you were for his answer? You thought you did something unforgivable, or that he didn’t love you enough to respond in kind, or worst of all, that he wanted nothing to do with you anymore?

However, he's acting petty because he was not the first one to say those three words? You frankly don’t know why your heart beats for him as strongly as it does. In fact, you want to whack him over the head with his own codex.  

Placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you shuffle out of your position from his lap, planting your feet onto the ground. “Oh, you are so infuriating! Pretend I never said anything, I’m going back to my office until you-”

Not even two steps away from him and a hand clasps around your wrist to drag you back to where you started: on Dr. Ratio’s lap. His arms come to wrap around you like chains, leaving no room to wrestle him out.

“I never said you could leave. Especially not after telling me you love me,” he grumbles lowly into your collarbone, breath tickling your skin.

“I’m starting to regret it.” 

“Can’t you at least say it again?”

“I don’t want to,” you grumble, arms snaking up to rest around his shoulders. “You don’t deserve it.” 

“Well, that’s a little harsh. Is this how you treat the ones you love?”

“You haven’t even said anything back,” you pinch his skin. “Talk about harsh.”

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he asks with a fond chuckle, not missing the opportunity to leave kisses in a trail along your skin, making his way up your neck. Then, when his eyes meet yours, you almost crumble in embarrassment at the memory he’s injected into your mind. 

You push him away and raise a hand to shield your eyes from him, clearly reliving a haunting memory. “Please don’t remind me.” 

“Y’know, it’s not everyday someone gets to scold me and be right. If you weren’t so beautiful, I wouldn’t have let it slide, but it’s not everyday a gorgeous genius falls into my lap with guts to challenge me.”

“I was… agitated that day, so stop talking about it, please. In fact, for my sake, please just forget that moment. Completely.”

“Forget about it? Completely?” The scholar asks with genuine shock lacing his tone. “I fell in love with you in that very moment, how can you expect me to stop talking about it? You rendered me a fool in love and expect me to not think about the very moment it happened? Sweetheart, it was a pivotal moment of my life!” 

“Not pivotal enough if you can’t even say ‘I love you, too’.”

“On the contrary, I have loved you longer. I yearned for you in wakefulness and in my dreams. I wished for you to look my way, and when you did, I never wanted your eyes to stray from me. How heartbreaking it was when they did.” His hand has snuck under your shirt now to rub circles on your skin. If he detached from you, he fears you’d slip away from him, and the worst thing you can give him is space. “Do you know how it felt chasing after you because you were the only one out of my reach? For three years, the only thing I wanted was to be yours. You made me an idiot.”

Stunned by his confession and the weight of it, you let him continue, sharp tongue softening. The only motivation you offer is a hand coming to cup his cheek, tucking aside his bangs so you can see his expression in its entirety. 

His gold eyes shine when they look back up at you. For the first time, you feel like you’re seeing the parts of him that Veritas hides from everyone else. 

“I love you.” He continues with heart wrenching devotion. “I’ll continue loving you until the streams stop, the rivers freeze, and the oceans dry. With three hundred thousand, eighty-three thousand, five hundred and seventy-one discovered planets in the cosmos, that phenomenon will approximately take-”

You seal his lips with yours in a gentle kiss, cradling his jaw and swallowing his words. Like wax to fire, Veritas sinks into you, completely helpless against your affections. 

But, oh, you love him, and nothing else in the entire universe matters.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[extinctlesspains]

I really loved the salesman imagine.could you write one where the reader and the salesman had a romance.But he gives a card sending her to the games.Feeling and hurt and betrayed she does her best to survive and she ends up winning along with Gi-hun.now three years later the reader goes to visit Gi-Hun with her 2 year old daughter.(she had found out she was pregnant after the games)she walks in on Gi-hun and the salesman during Russian roulette 

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑒 [𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑆𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑛]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚　˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛᴇᴅ: ʏᴇs ᴏʀ ɴᴏ

☆ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ x ᴀғᴀʙ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☆ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: ᴀɴɢsᴛ

☆ sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀ ᴡᴏᴍᴀɴ ʙᴇᴛʀᴀʏᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ ᴡʜᴏ sᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs sᴜʀᴠɪᴠᴇs, ᴅɪsᴄᴏᴠᴇʀs sʜᴇ’s ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇʙᴜɪʟᴅs ʜᴇʀ ʟɪғᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜᴇʀ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ. ʏᴇᴀʀs ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ, sʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴғʀᴏɴᴛs ᴛʜᴇ sᴀʟᴇsᴍᴀɴ ᴅᴜʀɪɴɢ ᴀ ᴛᴇɴsᴇ ᴇɴᴄᴏᴜɴᴛᴇʀ ᴀᴛ ɢɪ-ʜᴜɴ’s ᴀᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴄʜᴏᴏsɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛ ʜᴇʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ʜᴇʀ ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʜɪs ᴍᴀɴɪᴘᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs.

☆ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs: ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ, ᴋɪssɪɴɢ, ᴠɪʀɢɪɴɪᴛʏ ʟᴏss, ᴀʀɢᴜɪɴɢ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɢᴜɴ ᴛᴀʟᴋ.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　

It all started with a simple game.

You’d been on your way home, drowning in stress and overdue bills, when a man in a sharp suit approached you at the train station.

“Care for a little fun?” he asked, holding up a red and blue envelope.

At first, you wanted to refuse. But his easy charm—and your desperation—drew you in. He explained the slap-match game, and soon you were caught in the strange, exhilarating rhythm of winning and losing. By the end, you were breathless, laughing despite the sting on your cheek.

“Not bad,” he said, handing over the cash with a smile that felt too warm, too genuine for a stranger.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him after that. When you ran into him again a few days later, he acted like it was coincidence.

“Maybe it’s fate,” he teased.

Soon, he was everywhere—buying you coffee, walking you home, and making your life feel just a little less heavy. He made you laugh, listened to your frustrations, and looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

One night, after weeks of growing closer, you found yourself in his arms. You’d invited him in after a long evening, your walls lowered by exhaustion and the warmth of his presence. You were full of ecstasy after that night. The way his lips kissed your neck, the way his thrusts were so sensual.

“You’re special, you know,” he murmured as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back.

“Do you mean that?” you whispered, scared to hear the answer.

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.”

His words were your undoing. That night, you let him see all of you—your fears, your flaws, and your dreams. For the first time in years, you felt safe.

The illusion shattered when he slid the card across the table.

“What’s this?” you asked, staring at the embossed logo. Circle, triangle, square.

“A chance to change your life,” he said, his tone eerily calm.

You frowned, a pit of unease forming in your stomach. “What kind of chance?”

“It’s a game,” he explained. “An opportunity to win enough money to solve all your problems.”

“Why are you giving me this?” Your voice wavered, the trust you’d built with him suddenly fragile.

“Because I care about you,” he said, his gaze steady.

His face softened, but he didn’t retract the card. “I believe in you, Y/n. More than you believe in yourself.”

His words felt like a betrayal wrapped in a compliment. Against your better judgment, you took the card, driven by desperation and the hope that maybe he was right.

The games were worse than you could have imagined.

Every death chipped away at your soul, and every betrayal reminded you of his. But you refused to break. Gi-hun became your lifeline, his determination and kindness pulling you through when you felt like giving up.

“We’re going to make it,” he promised one night, his voice steady. “We have to.”

You survived, but at a cost. The prize money felt like blood money, and the nightmares lingered long after the games ended.

A month later, you discovered the pregnancy.

At first, you were terrified. The thought of raising a child alone, of explaining where her father was and why he wasn’t around, felt overwhelming. But when you heard her heartbeat for the first time, everything changed.

You named her Hana, meaning “flower.” She became the anchor that kept you grounded, her laughter a reminder that there was still beauty in the world.

When she was born, you held her close, tears streaming down your face. “You’re my miracle,” you whispered.

Hana grew into a bright, curious toddler who filled your life with light. But you couldn’t shake the shadow of her father—the man who had once made you feel safe and then abandoned you to the wolves.

Two years later, you decide to visit Gi-hun. He had become like a brother to you, someone who understood the darkness you’d endured. As you climb the stairs to his apartment, Hana babbles in your arms, clutching her favorite stuffed rabbit.

But when you reach the door, the sound of voices stops you cold.

“Are you sure about this?” Gi-hun’s voice, tense and uncertain.

“I never force anyone,” a familiar voice replies.

Your heart races as you push the door open.

Gi-hun and the salesman sit at the table, a revolver between them. The salesman looks as composed as ever, while Gi-hun is pale and trembling.

“What the hell is going on here?” you demand.

The salesman looks up, his eyes widening slightly as he sees you—and the child in your arms. “Y/n.”

Gi-hun stammers, “It’s not what it looks like—”

“You’re playing Russian roulette!” you snap, your voice rising. “How is that not exactly what it looks like?”

The salesman’s gaze flicks to Hana. “You have a daughter,” he says softly, putting the pieces together.

“Don’t you dare,” you hiss, clutching her closer. “You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to act like you care.”

“I do care,” he says, standing slowly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

“You lied to me,” you spit. “You used me. You sent me to those games knowing I might die.”

“I gave you a choice,” he says, his voice calm but firm.

“You gave me a death sentence,” you fire back. “And now you’re here, dragging Gi-hun into your twisted games? Haven’t you done enough damage?”

The salesman’s jaw tightens. “It’s not that simple.”

“No,” you say, your voice shaking. “It’s exactly that simple. You destroy people’s lives and pretend it’s for their own good. But you don’t get to do that to us anymore.”

He looks at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he nods, his eyes lingering on Hana one last time.

“Goodbye, Y/n,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.

As the door closes behind him, you sink into a chair, trembling.

Gi-hun reaches out, his voice filled with regret. “I’m sorry—”

“It’s not your fault,” you say, cutting him off. “He manipulates people. That’s what he does.”

Hana wriggles in your arms, her tiny hand brushing your cheek. “Mama,” she says softly, her voice filled with love.

You press a kiss to her forehead, tears slipping down your face. “We’re okay,” you whisper, more to yourself than anyone else.

Gi-hun watches you, his eyes filled with both guilt and gratitude. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“For what?”

“For saving me.”

You meet his gaze, your resolve hardening. “We save each other.”

[tbaluver]

Kissing His Scars- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader requested: anonnie (anonymous) ᯓᡣ𐭩 genre: slight angst i think ( references of their past lives ) but tooth rotting fluff overall ! a/n: hihi lovelies i miss you all ! i've been really busy with school and i missed writing and interacting with you all so much ˙◠˙ this was requested by an anonnie and i apologize if this is written not the best i feel so rusty bc my exams drained me ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) i hope you all are so well and i hope i can get some writing posted bc i have a couple ideas for kinktober but i feel so late ˙◠˙ anyways enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier has a couple scars from all the battles he’s been through. A couple small ones from his hands and a couple on his arms. You’ve seen them sometimes when he’s had his shirt off or when you shower together.

He was curious about why you were doing this in the first place. His eyes sparkled with affection as you kiss and caress the lines of each scar with tenderness. He'd lean in to your touch, letting you do as you please, appreciating every second and minute of it. He felt so appreciated and special that he will definitely return the favor back to you.

Every kiss on his scars reminds him that each battle he’s faced has been worth it. In this lifetime, he has found you again after losing you and enduring so much. Now, he has a loving partner to come home to- where he feels cherished, complete, and truly at peace.

────୨ৎ────

You were curled up on the couch, flipping through different shows and movies in search of the perfect one to enjoy while waiting for you and Xavier’s food. Just then, Xavier joins you, settling his head comfortably in your lap, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

“Hi honey,” He says softly, his voice warm as he cups your face. His fingers gently tracing small circles on your cheek.

“Hi baby” you reply, nuzzling against his hand and placing your own atop his. Your heart flutters as you glance down at him. You took his hand, planting soft kisses along his inner palm before intertwining your fingers with his.

He watches you with a playful smile, utterly smitten by how adorable you were. Small affections made him feel loved and cherished. As you flipped his hand to face yours, you noticed the small scars that marked his skin- stories he briefly mentioned he’s gotten from childhood and battles with Wanderers from the past.

“Did you really get these when you were just a child?” you asked as he nodded. “A couple were from mishandling my sword while I was training,” he explained, earning a breathy chuckle.

You draw his hand closer, your lips finding those small scars.

“Hmm? What are you doing? They don’t hurt anymore,” He says so innocently, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. As you pull your lips away from his hand, you look down, meeting his gaze.

“I know,” you reply, your voice softening. “You’ve come some far. Those battles shape you into this strong and brave man.” A gentle smile graced your lips as he returned your smile, warmth flooding over him.

“No, it’s all those battles that have made everything worth it to have you in the end.” His voice filled with sincerity. Unable to resist, he sits up, leaning in. His eyes soften as he closes the distance between you two. Your breath caught as his lips met yours, tender and sweet, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around you.

Zayne:

You were no stranger to the scars on his arms. You've memorized every part of his body by now. He always kept them hidden whenever he wore his coat, long sleeves, or cardigan. Whether or not he was insecure about them or not, you wanted to make sure every inch of him was loved.

He was a bit surprised when you first kissed the scars on his arms. When your soft lips brushed against his scars, he melted at your touch. He feels a warmth spread through his body that brings him comfort and so so unconditionally loved. As you planted gentle kisses along his arm, a smile curled on his lips.

He loves it and finds it endearing whenever you do, making sure to give you the same amount of kisses back or more to remind you how much equally he loves you back.

────୨ৎ────

You rested your head on Zayne’s lap, the TV fading into a dull hum as he immersed himself in the pages of his book. With one hand holding the book, his other hand rests against your head to act as a pillow. Curiosity piqued you as you shifted slightly to play with his hand, captivated by the contract between the sizes of your hands. That’s when your gaze fell on the scar peeking from his sleeve.

As he continues to read, you gently push his sleeve up, tracing the outline of his scar before moving to the one beside it. You remembered him telling you he’d gotten these from childhood and how he can’t fully remember how he got them. A bittersweet ache fills your heart as you think of the childhood you both missed out on, wishing you could have been there to ease his pain and take care of him.

Drawn by an impulse, you inch closer and closer to his arm, planting a delicate trail of kisses on his scars. The soft warmth of your lips draws his attention to you. As he glances down, a small smile curls onto his lips.

“What are you doing, my love?” He asks softly, closing his book and setting it aside. His free hand brushes back the stray strands of your hair that had fallen over your face, tucking them gently behind your ear.

You rolled over to meet his gaze, your heart swelling at the sight of his soft smile and the warmth in his eyes, all just for you.

“Seeing these makes me wish I could have taken away your pain back then.” He’d sigh, cupping your face, his gaze continues to be filled with warmth.

“What matters is that you’re here with me now.” He replies softly as you shift closer, sitting up to rest your head against his chest. “Just having you here makes everything feel right,” He says with a soft smile on his face.

“I’m grateful that we eventually found our way to each other in the end.” He gently lifted your chin with his finger, drawing your gaze back to his before pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your lips.

( astra when i catch you astra.....)

Rafayel:

He is no stranger to you kissing his scars. You did it once when you kissed his paper cuts on his finger and he wanted you to keep doing it again and again.

Acts as if he's touch-starved. His reasoning would be one he loves it, two he loves and craves your touch, three he feels seen. You’ll still love him no matter what flaws he has or what he becomes.

Although there were some scars that randomly appeared on his arms, hinting untold stories. Initially you assume they might have stemmed from his artistic pursuits and whenever you bring it up, he brushes the topic aside.

Knowing Raf, you sense there’s more beneath the surface, he’s never been one to shy away from discussing his body. But you choose not to press on it and you’ll wait patiently for him to open up in his own time. For now, your love will be his comfort to whatever untold stories those scars hold on him.

────୨ৎ────

“Ouch! My hand!” He whines, flailing his hand in the air as if that might chase away the sting. You walk over to his stool, where he’s currently suffering from another paper cut from his sketchbook.

“Cutie,” he pouts, raising his finger to your face with a hopeful expression. “Kiss it, please.” You can’t help but chuckle as you take his hand in yours. You press a gentle kiss over the tiny wound to make his pain go away.

“There. It’ll be gone in a few seconds, Raf.” Just to be sure, you place another soft kiss on the same spot and notice a faint scar peeking from under his dress sleeve.

“Another one Raf? Where’d you get this scar?” You ask, gently pulling his arm to roll up his sleeve and examine it. He shrugs, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “I dunno, it just appeared out of nowhere. I can’t be too focused on that if I’m always focused on you cutie.” You snort. tracing the outline of the scar with your fingertip before leaning in to place a tender kiss on it.

He smiles, his nebula colored eyes sparkling as if they imitated space and the stars. “Are you trying to make it go away cutie?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yes,” you reply softly, “but it’s also for the times I couldn’t be there to kiss it better.” He swears his heart can leap out of his chest right now and do backflips from how adorable you are. He reaches out to cup your face, his free arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Then I guess you just have to stay with me all the time," he says, a mix of playfulness and seriousness in his voice. “What if I get hurt again? Who’s going to kiss it all better? He gazes into your eyes, a soft smile breaking across his face.

He gently pulls you onto his lap, your faces meeting each other's level as you meet each other’s gaze. “You know,” he says, his voice gentle, “I could get used to you kissing all my scars. You make everything feel so much better.”

With a playful twinkle in his eye, he cups your cheek, drawing you closer until your lips brush against each other in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Sylus:

You’ve seen the scar on his chest before, whether it was during your shared showers or a cozy night in your shared bed. It often peeks out from under his robe, nestled by his sternum. He doesn’t mention much about how he got it, so you decided not to pry further into it.

The first time you did it was when you both got ready for bed. As you nestled your head against his chest, your fingers gently trace the scar that marked his skin. He’d hum in response from your touch as you pressed a soft kiss to it. He’d let out a silent laugh, finding you to be oh so adorable. He'd ruffle your hair before placing a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

You'd do it a lot more often after you found out he enjoys your small acts of affection towards him. You'd do it any chance you'd get.

In the steamy shower, you'd go on your tippy toes to kiss his scar and he'd respond back by gently placing a finger under your chin to draw you in for a soft tender kiss in return.

He loves it when you kiss the scar on his chest. You’re the only person he can be himself and vulnerable around, so doing an intimate act like that makes him feel safe and loved.

────୨ৎ────

Sylus was already in bed, his head resting gently against the headboard. His eyes were closed, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was evident to the exhaustion from a long day of work. Not wanting to disturb his peace, you quietly climbed on top of him, resting your head near his heart, hearing the soft, rapid thumps of his heartbeat. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you closer.

“Goodnight Sy,” you whisper, planting a tender kiss on his chest. Your gaze falls upon the scar that you knew so well, it’s story etched into his skin.

“Goodnight, sweetie,” he murmured back, his voice a low, soothing whisper as his fingers traced gentle circles on your waist.

You let your fingertips wander over the scar, feeling the slight indentation. He responds with a soft hum, his eyes still closed. “Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly, his hands still anchoring you on to him. You hum in reply, your mind drifting back to the story behind his scar.

-

“Where did you get this scar, Sy?” you asked, as the warm water pours over both of you in the shower.

He glances down at you, his gaze softening as he focuses on your face, careful not to let the soap get into your eyes. “That,” he paused for a moment, “is the reason I’m still here. But that’s all in the past now, sweetie.”

-

You remember not prying further as you traced the scar’s curves. Leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his scar, earning a breathy chuckle from him as he tangles his fingers in your hair.

“I’m glad you’re still here with me, Sy,” you whisper, continuing to caress the scar with your fingertip.

He shifted slightly, pulling you closer, your eyes meeting his crimson ones. His gaze was sleepy yet filled with warmth. If his heart beats any faster, he swears his heart can burst out of his chest.

“And I’m grateful to always have you by my side.” A soft smile curls to his lips as he cups your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before pulling you forward to him, giving you a sweet and passionate kiss.

[kenjakusbraincum]

can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺

You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Vows

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)

It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.

You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?

Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.

And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.

So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.

When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.

''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.

''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?

''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.

''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.

But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.

You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''

''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.

''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.

That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.

Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.

It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.

You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.

Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.

''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.

''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.

"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.

Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.

You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.

You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.

"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.

-

You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.

He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.

"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.

Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"

There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.

"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."

You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.

"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."

You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.

He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?

Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.

-

Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.

He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.

He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.

He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.

You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''

''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?

''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...

''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''

You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.

Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.

You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.

Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.

''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.

''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.

Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''

You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.

-

You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.

And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.

He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.

You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.

When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.

He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.

You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.

''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.

He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.

"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."

Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.

The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.

Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.

And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.

Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.

Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.

The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.

Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.

[milkoomi]

finding & knowing your worth. ᥫ᭡

i wanted to take some time and talk about self-worth. this is something that was extremely difficult for me to find and realize for myself, but as i look back on my life and reflect on my growth, i’ve found myself truly knowing my own worth. of course, i still have those days that are more difficult than others, but i’ve been able to quickly pick myself back up. why? because i know my worth. i want to share a few things that have helped me realize that for myself, so i hope this post is able to enlighten you. ㅤ♡

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — lose interest in outsider opinions

in simpler terms: stop caring. i kept asking myself, “why do i care so much about what others are thinking of me?” and then i came across a couple quotes where one said, “if you wouldn’t trust their advice, why would you take their criticism?” and the other said, “i would never want to trade lives with someone who hates me.” those two quotes really stuck with me because it reminded me that those people who didn’t have a good opinion of me were the same people i needed to stop caring about.

so what if someone didn’t like me? that person is either no longer a part of my life (for good reason) or they don’t know me in the ways that my loved ones or my own self do, so why should what they have to say or think about me matter?

i knew myself better than anyone, so whatever anyone had to say about me shouldn’t have bothered me, and i let it stop bothering me. i also realized that as my day goes on and i find myself not thinking about what someone said, i tell myself that it wasn’t even worth a single thought in the first place because, clearly, it doesn’t bother me anymore!

if it won’t matter to you in 5 years, don’t continue to give it any more of a meaning.

୨ৎ — stop seeking validation

to piggyback off of my previous point, seeking outside validation is 1. not worth your time and 2. pointless. other people should never be the ones who define your worth. you have to seek validation from yourself. nobody else has a right to tell you whether or not you’re worthy.

i was always looking for validation from others, and it made my own journey to finding myself even more difficult. there were so many different opinions about me that i kept hearing, and it made me feel lost. it felt like i was getting further and further from truly discovering myself and feeling like i was worth something.

i had to pretty much force myself to seek validation within myself rather than from anyone else. it was hard, but the longer i kept searching for some kind of worth to others the more miserable and empty i felt.

୨ৎ — self reflection

time to bring out that journal, babe. we’re going to write about ourselves.

no, seriously, take some time to reflect on yourself. look within yourself and understand yourself a bit more. getting to know yourself and taking the time to focus on yourself can help you figure some things out and even bring you one step closer to truly knowing your worth.

prompts for reflection:

what are 3 characteristics about your personality do you like about yourself? why?

what are your strengths? how do those things about you make you a better person?

what’s your favorite thing(s) about you? how would they compare to what a loved one would say about you?

what are the things that weigh you down? what can you do to lift that weight off your shoulders?

how have you changed within the last 3 years? what about you has changed that you’re really proud of?

self reflection has helped me grow so much. i’ve learned so many new things about myself and it’s helped appreciate myself way more. you’ll be surprised at all the things you find about yourself, and guess what? one of those things will be your own worth.

୨ৎ — surround yourself with positivity

the people who you surround yourself with will play a huge role in how you feel about yourself. i spent too many years surrounded by people who made me feel like i was never enough, and i continued to keep the same kind of people around. i was sick of it. i was tired of being mistreated and feeling betrayed. those people made me feel miserable and they only ever brought me down rather than lifted me up.

even the media i consumed didn’t help me. i was always so focused on comparing myself to those instagram models and tiktok girls who looked nothing like me, and it made me feel worse about myself. even watching videos or shows that brought me down made my esteem drop too.

it’s important to surround yourself with people and media that make you feel good, that lift you up, and that help you feel confident because that kind of good treatment is what you deserve! you shouldn’t have to submit yourself to negativity, it only makes you feel worse and it’ll continue to get worse the longer you keep those things and people around.

now that i have people in my life that make me feel genuinely loved and cared for, i feel like i can offer that same energy those people give me to myself! it really makes a huge difference who your close circle consists of, so make sure those people are people who are genuinely and unconditionally there for you.

୨ৎ — final notes

if you do need a reminder: you are worthy, and you always have been! finding and knowing your own worth is no easy feat, but the journey you’ll go on to discover it and implement it into your life will be so extremely worth it. i promise!

you will always be more than enough, and i hope you can continue to remind yourself of that. treat yourself with genuine love and kindness, and don’t ever take yourself for granted. you have achieved so much and you have so many things to offer in life. you may not see it now, but once you do, you’ll see just how beautiful and bright your own light is.

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

[stxrvel]

disclosure (6)

series summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life? pairing. platonic ot7 x f!reader for now content. first of all, english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes! curse words, angst, reader becomes sus, fighting (in the wrong way), angry and mean jin? self-doubt. a/n. hi guysssssss!!! sorry it's taking me this long always, but i finally finished this part! i actually just finished it and it's almost 2am and i have to go to work in fivehours. i'm publishing this part as it is and maybe tomorrow if i have the time i'll look at it again, bc i'm really exhausted right now. and also please forgive me if there are any mistakes in the text;((((. but i hope you guys enjoy this 7k monster of a chapter and i'll see you next time!!

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The fourth book of your saga was a reflection of everything you had gone through when you moved with your family to the capital. You finished the third book when you had barely been in the city for a month and maybe that's why it didn't have a happy ending and why everyone who had read the trilogy had been devastated with that ending. It wasn't something you had planned from the beginning, but it wasn't something that ruined the plot either. It was actually much better than you had planned.

And when you finally finished with the trilogy, starting to write again wasn't hard, especially with so many mixed emotions and so much repressed pain coming back to the surface uninvited.

Maybe you hadn't been in connection with your strong feelings since then, when the city constantly reminded you that you had lost the only people you considered your true friends and the pain of their absence and the harsh reality was a knife burying itself in your chest over and over again. You hadn't felt this much since the moment you realized that they were able to live their lives without you, but you had to go through the mourning of losing them.

You hadn't felt this much since then, until that moment when, having been just a day since you had decided you would take the path of healing, you had to reopen the draft of your fourth book and find all those angry paragraphs, spit out words, piled up letters and whole pages filled with pure rage and pain; of disappointment and realization… of betrayal.

“Are you going to start again already? Don't you think you deserve a break?”

The words Yuna had spoken to you that morning were echoing in your head from the moment you read the first words of this draft and the memories began to well up, emotions making your hair stand on end and your throat close up.

It was almost funny to remember how incredibly angry you were when you first arrived in the city.

The city, with posters of Jungkook's face on every corner, with his performances on some screens or just teenagers talking about him and whispering about his music, it was practically impossible to escape it. The city, with radios blaring Yoongi's songs, in a cab or on public transportation, interviews blaring on TVs in shopping malls. The city, with the international news, which echoed so much, about the spectacular promises of modeling. The country couldn't be prouder to have representatives of that caliber, because the moment Taehyung and Jimin overtook the West and broke the international barrier, it was only a matter of time before the others followed suit and completely changed the idea of entertainment and media in the country.

The first months in the city were nauseating, when you had to get used to and overcome your emotions the hard way, fighting against the aggressive tide that all the time tried to drown you, and that was noticeable in every word and every scene of that book, and you were almost sure that if any of them read it, they would know immediately. If they wanted to know anything about you, if they were really interested, there would be no better way than through your books; in no other situation would you be so vulnerable.

You wondered, for a moment, if any of them would have read any of the books by now. If Namjoon would remember when you asked him for strange words to describe emotions and now they were captured in those impressions, or when you asked Jin and Hoseok for their opinion about the complex construction of your world and each of their peculiar and crazy details can be found in those pages. Just as your books had all the pieces of you, it also had crumbs of them, and you wondered if they would notice if they read it.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

Maybe you do. That's why you had decided to close that cycle once and for all, and there was no better way to do it than to finally start with the edition of this book. Of this fourth book, so strong in its toughness and determination, so vulnerable in its rage and palpable pain.

It was the cleanest and purest and truest version of you.

But as much as you deserved it, it felt more like punishment. Reliving those emotions and evoking those memories caused you more anguish and you didn't know if you could face a kind of shock therapy like that to finally let go.

“The editors said you'd be here.”

You saw Choi Dohyun standing, leaning against the door frame above the computer screen that still displayed the title of the first chapter of your fourth book. On a Wednesday at barely eight o'clock in the morning, the great CEO decided to set aside a few minutes of his busy time to gratify you with his presence.

His calm, serene and carefree expression was the contrast to the swirl of emotions that ran through that room, rising from the crown of your head. You could almost tell he wasn't venturing into the office because he could feel the tension radiating from your position at the desk. He must have even seen it on your face.

You sighed and barely waved at him, running your hands over your face, trying to ease your tense muscles a little.

“Is there a specific reason why you don't want the editors to read the book?”

Choi Dohyun was a mystery. You only knew about him from the three-hour conversation you had the day before, besides the strange looks he cast at Yoongi from his office entrance. He had shown himself to be a very open person and it was clear that he was an expert at making things work his way. You knew he had agreed to many of your conditions because what he would get in return was bigger than what it would cost him, which really wasn't too much, just enough to maintain a level of creative freedom that would allow you to access editorial support when you saw fit —because you knew that once you handed it over, it would no longer be entirely yours—and often businessmen reflected their own personalities in how they negotiated a deal.

Dohyun tried to come across as a fairly personable person; he tried to be understanding, communicative and open-minded, so much so that he reminded you of the comfortable security of an older brother. However, you could tell in that meeting that he held back too much; that he had hated the way Yuna used to interrupt him to ask him questions or how your brother would put too many buts in his mouth and try to get information out of him that he shouldn't give away. You could tell he was impatient, that he really expected the meeting to last less than twenty minutes because he was sure you would sign the contract blindly as soon as you saw the profits you'd gain from the distribution and sale of your books. You also noticed, in case it wasn't obvious already, that he preferred to be in control as long as the situation and the people around him allowed it, for his convenience. If he gave in on several occasions, you knew it had been because he was very, very aware of everything that benefited him.

There were two options: Choi Dohyun wore a mask constantly, or Choi Dohyun was a fraud.

“I just wanted to read it one more time… before handing it over. I won't take long.”

“It's okay. No problem.” Dohyun finally walked into the room, the office he had handed you for whenever you decided to go to his publishing house. You didn't even know writers had that option; you didn't know if it was common, but he allowed it. He had also offered you a writing kit that included a typewriter that looked quite expensive, and although you hadn't accepted it, there it was in one of the corners of the office. Dohyun sat across from you, glancing at the few things you had brought from home to make the place a little more pleasant. “I understand that sometimes it's hard to separate yourself from your work. It's a part of you, after all. A kind of vulnerability that not everyone sees.”

That was the kind of thing that kept Dohyun's true nature a mystery. His stoic expression as he blurted out words of comfort. It almost felt like running sandpaper over cement. Not that you needed to figure him out, because at the end of the day he was a boss of sorts and you two were bound by a contract with mutual economic benefits —technically, you were each there for a benefit of your own— but it was something you wanted to be aware of, watchful of, informed of, because you had no way of knowing this guy wouldn't try to take advantage of some situation later, in any possible scenario.

“Yes…”

“Take as much time as you need. The demand for the trilogy is still pretty high, after all.”

You nodded at him in response, wary of his attempt to lighten the mood. If he was the kind of person you thought he was, he surely knew you didn't feel an ounce of trust towards him.

“In just two days you must have quite a bit of work to do with that,” you tried to continue the conversation, interspersing your gaze over the letters on the screen and his dark eyes.

“But it's a very welcome work. Aren't you glad your books were so well received?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation, momentarily remembering the proud look on Yuna and your brother's face when they finally got you to see the reactions and opinions of your books on social media. “It's comforting. For your work to be appreciated, recognized… moreover, that it allows you to make a living from it. It's amazing and a very great privilege.”

Dohyun shook his head in assent, interlacing his fingers over his abdomen. From his nonchalant way of taking a seat across from you, slumped over the chair almost as if he was an old friend from college and not practically your boss, and from how his voice reflected that sense of calmness and confidence, you could almost tell he was perfectly selling the facade of the most trustworthy person in the world.

But ultimately it was your feeling and your need to automatically distrust anyone you met because you didn't know at what point they would try to take advantage of you or turn their back on you, and maybe Dohyun wasn't as bad a person as you wanted to paint him in your head. Maybe you would even accept that his presence was a bit comforting and that he actually reminded you of someone you used to know in the past and of whom currently, if you knew he was still alive, it was by sheer luck. That personality, that sense of security he conveyed and that way he had had of expressing himself to you in that meeting that showed a different and more mature kind of wisdom, indeed reminded you of someone else.

Dohyun was very, very much like Jin.

“Can I… ask you something?” you hesitated, alternating your gaze between the screen and his dark eyes, not quite sure if you wanted to go down that path, but aware that you would get something in return if you did, and perhaps the risk would be worth it. “But it's not related to… this.”

As you pointed to your computer and the rest of the office, you couldn't decipher what expression Dohyun sketched. Trying to read him like you did everyone else, it seemed he entertained a specific train of thought in his head and was sparked by your question, but you couldn't probe much further because he agreed, tilting his head to invite you to ask bluntly.

“How do you know Min Yoongi?”

Dohyun then lifted his chin and his lips curved into a sort of small smile that could more accurately be described as a grimace. With his eyes on the window, with the beautiful view of the city and its busy streets, Dohyun took his time to answer and his pleased and almost satisfied look gave you to understand that your question was not a surprise at all. Dohyun could take it simply as healthy curiosity, for after all Yoongi was a celebrity and there weren't many people around the country who couldn't recognize him and you literally saw him face to face.

However, of course, there was something about his attitude that felt different. He wasn't surprised by your question, it was true, but maybe not for the reason you thought.

“He's a friend of my best friend.” Dohyun finally answered, returning your gaze, a glint of amusement highlighting his dark eyes. “I met him a couple of years ago through him, who is also his best friend. Otherwise, I doubt we would've ever met.”

Ah, Dohyun had a best friend who was best friends with Yoongi. That could only mean one thing.

“Ah. Then your best friend is part of the seven kings.”

Dohyun raised his eyebrows, clearly amused by your choice of words and the permanence of that haunting smile and the glint in his eyes should've been warning enough. He had the posture, demeanor and speech of a person who knew he was in control of the situation. Whatever his purpose was in entertaining this conversation, you already knew you were involved in that reason, indirectly.

Dohyun knew something about you that you had no idea about.

“Yes, indeed. It's Kim Seokjin. We met in college.”

As you guessed, of course. That's where the similar traits you could find in his personality came from.

But then Yoongi wasn't directly friends with Dohyun, and they couldn't be that close because of the nonchalant way he referred to him, so the question of why he was here yesterday, precisely when you came, would remain unanswered. It could be a coincidence? Of course, and you could remain in doubt, or you could…

“Wow. You two really are a powerful duo.”

Dohyun let out a laugh, nodding, looking so comfortable with himself, as if you were asking all the questions you should be asking.

“I love my job and I know I'm good at what I do, but Jin is simply on another level.”

You nodded, getting into his game of pretending, with a half smile on your face.

You knew that if Yuna knew what you were doing she would shake her head and tell you that you were crazy; that you should try to be less hard on other people and that's why you had never been able to hit it off with the other co-workers in Sol's cafeteria.

“Yes. I hear he's a great surgeon. He was top of his class, wasn't he?”

“That's right.” Dohyun nodded, determined not to look away from you. “But you're close to them too, aren't you? I saw Taehyung's Instagram stories when he uploaded your books.”

You blinked. Once. And again. He had already figured you out, and now he wanted to reverse the table and get some kind of reaction or information from you that you didn't know what kind of mystery it would solve in his head. The best option was to feign a bit of surprise, which was what you did, as if you didn't expect him to suddenly bring that up.

“Well, we studied together in school, but we were never that close.”

You lifted a shoulder, trying to downplay the subject, as if on cue, and Dohyun nodded slightly processing the information, averting his gaze over the dark carpet on the floor. He seemed to be tying up loose ends in his head and had more questions, the way he squinted his eyes as you gave him his space to think.

You had no idea what he was getting at. You had already brought out to him that he was close friends with Kim Seokjin and that, basically by extension he knew Yoongi. You could almost say it was a bit of an ordinary, almost trivial topic, not overly suspicious. Unless, of course, he knew something else that raised his curiosity and made you look suspicious in his eyes for asking such questions.

It seemed the most certain theory.

“And through him you must have met the others sometime, right?”

And it seemed you were right, too.

You had to deny his assertion, you knew, but it seemed you had taken half a second too long because he beat you to the word, shaking his head in a nod, and then said:

“That explains a lot.”

“Huh?”

Play dumb, play dumb.

Dohyun cracked a big grin, looking almost like a predator in the midst of its hunt, and from that alone you knew he'd already put his puzzle together.

“Well… actually, now that we're being honest, Jin was the one who recommended me to read your books.”

Wow.

Okay.

Jin… told Dohyun about you? About your books?

That doesn't explain anything. In fact, more questions popped up in your head than you could control and you were sure Dohyun could see the question marks moving over your irises.

“He told me that there could be a great opportunity if I published you and he was really right. I don't regret sending you that offer.”

Dohyun leaned back against the backrest and stretched one of his arms over the chair next to him. His posture was a little more relaxed than before and you couldn't help the feeling of anger that ran through you because you had given him just what he wanted, but you couldn't concentrate too much on that because you were too surprised by what he had just blurted out, as if it was nothig.

Of all the things you could've imagined, you would never have considered that this huge and prestigious publishing house had offered you a contract just because one of the CEO's great friends had recommended it to him. I mean, if Jin had never talked about it, would you have had any chance of getting this offer? Of signing this contract? Would you have been recognized on your own merit and not because you were linked to the mouth of a close friend?

None of that made any sense. Why had Jin told Choi Dohyun about you? His best friend being the owner of the most prestigious publishing house in the country, clearly knowing the implications of his actions, why would he do that? Maybe he didn't count on his friend throwing him overboard someday for gossiping and because he has an ego bigger than his own head? Maybe he thought it would be an anonymous job forever? And for what reason? On what grounds? What kind of emotions moved him to make that decision? Maybe it was simply an altruistic desire. Maybe he was moved by the same thing that moved Taehyung, the one who started all this. But was it something premeditated or not? Was it something he had previously discussed with Namjoon? Would the others know about it? Would they have agreed? Would they not have cared?

In the midst of that mental stupor, the very idea of healing seemed stupid to you. The immense confusion and anger that was coursing through your blood had no place for this group of fools to continue to meddle in your life as if they were playing a fucking election game on their computer. Why? Why? Why?

You wanted to get out of a simple doubt with Dohyun, to know what kind of connection he had with Yoongi and that everything that had happened was a coincidence, and you had ended up with a thousand more questions, with a hundred confusions and even more mixed emotions.

And Yoongi… would he have been in his office yesterday for something related to that?

“At first I thought Taehyung had asked him, but Jin is quite careful about such things. He wouldn't hint something like that to me even because his brothers ask him to, unless it was someone he could vouch for. So you knew Jin too, right?”

You didn't try to deny it, but you didn't give him the reason either. Amidst a sea of questions and confusion, incredulous and angry, you just shook your head and crossed your arms.

“I'll bring the first draft tomorrow.”

Dohyun took his time, drumming his fingers on the wood of the chair, sending you a look as if he wanted to get more answers out of you because your attitude raised more doubts than he initially had. Maybe you let go of a wolf's leash or this would be a one-time occurrence, you had no idea. But he said nothing more. Finally he got up, said goodbye and left.

Don't you think you deserve a break?

You should've listened to Yuna.

-

The next day, when you finished editing the draft of your fourth book amid tears, several cups of coffee and an excruciating pain in your wrist, you finally handed it in to the editors with a heavy heart and an hour of sleep in your body. It had officially ceased to be yours. The revelation that Dohyun had actually offered you all of this because Jin had asked him to do so kept going round and round in your head and made you revise and edit that draft more harshly than you would've done before.

Maybe you added a few extra curse words.

“If you don't finish that pasta, I'm going to steal it from you.”

Yuna hadn't even finished her own plate and was already eyeing yours, her brow furrowed and her own fork stabbing the ceramic of the deep dish you'd served your friend in as she crossed the threshold of the front door. You had been stirring the food with your fork for a while, thinking, reflecting, theorizing, trying to figure out what you really wanted; trying to recognize and accept the emotions inside you that were upsetting you.

Your parents had left early and Seojun was back in his college dorms, so you invited Yuna to lunch because you knew she loved the pastries your mom made and because you thought it would do you good to have some company after turning in the draft of your book. But, really, you were more overwhelmed than before. Yuna's presence didn't stop the thoughts in your head from racing, nor did it erase from reality what had happened.

“Y/n?”

You raised your head.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, and tried to focus on eating lunch before rambling on.

“Is it because of the book?”

“No, no. Everything's fine. I was just thinking.”

“Do you think you should've waited a little longer to turn it in?”

You shook your head. “No.”

It wasn't an order from Dohyun or anything like that. You decided to get started on editing the next book because it was a bit desperate to have nothing to do. Before you could focus on the whole operational and logistical process of delivering the books, but now that was taken care of by a separate company and all you had to do was verify that the money was coming into your account and that was it. Not that it was bad, but you were not used to just sitting idly by. So you thought that continuing with the pre-publication editing of the next books might be a good way to pass the time.

You didn't expect, of course, the statement you heard the day before, let alone that it would knock down your motivation like the wind to dry leaves. After that conversation with Dohyun, you decided that the best thing you could do was to turn in that draft and give them as much work as possible as a distraction so that you wouldn't have to go back to that building for at least a couple of weeks. It wasn't a healthy activity, of course, because at the time you were only functioning to keep Yuna from questioning if there was something wrong with you. Well, she probably did, but she preferred not to comment on it, because you hadn't been giving her too many answers to her questions lately.

Having decided that Dohyun was an expert manipulator, you could only worry about the possibility that he might decide to comment something about that conversation to Jin or just stir up a conversation about the possible existence of a friendly bond with him during school time. You didn't know what could trigger that; with everything that had happened up to that point you could no longer be sure of anything or trust anything.

“No. I thought I'd turn it in now so I'd have more time to read the next books. I know that one isn't too bad. I revised it too many times while I was writing it and even after.”

“And it's pretty long, isn't it?”

You nodded, finally tasting another mouthful of pasta. “Seven hundred pages.”

“Holy Christ,” Yuna put a hand to her forehead and sketched a worried expression. Then her excited exclamation echoed throughout the house. “What a thrill! I can't wait to read it!!!!!!”

Yuna returned to work an hour later and you spent the rest of the afternoon between shifts of lying down staring at the ceiling and watching more videos about your books on social media, which you hadn't been able to leave since you saw them with your whole family in the living room. It still seemed surreal to you that you could search the name of your books on the internet and you would indeed get the results you expected. Clearly not all the opinions were praise, but you were willing to take all of that and learn, implement and consider it for the next stories you were willing to tell. For now, you were going to focus on keeping the editors busy enough that they wouldn't have to ask about it or demand your presence for any reason. This trilogy really was quite a lengthy saga, so when they finallt finish editing the fourth book, you'd have the fifth waiting, and so on. At least until you had another amazing idea for a new story.

Now, on the slightly more disturbing topics, you still had more loose ends to tie up than you had initially thought. As you still had those particles of anger running through your body and you were still convinced that there was still no room for healing and overcoming, you could only think about what Yoongi's presence in Dohyun's office was about and if it had to do with what Jin had done.

That was the first line of thought. The second one sounded more like Yuna with her serious voice trying to talk some sense into you and tell you that you were seeing into it too much, that surely it was all just a coincidence and that Yoongi's presence was just some kind of crossfire.

But… yet… how many more times did something like this have to happen before you stopped chalking it up to coincidence? How many more times would you say it was a coincidence until everything started to connect to a purpose? Did they even have a purpose? Did they have a reason for all this, for all this unnecessary drama? And was their reason worth it to compensate for the instability you were going through? Having pent up emotions, confusion, lots of doubts and zero answers was about to drive you crazy.

However, maybe seeing things from another approach would allow you to understand.

Because, honestly, you saw it as too complicated to be able to leave them behind in this way, when it seemed that, on purpose or not, you would keep finding them in your soup. Adopting a slightly more objective approach, even though your emotions were always running high when it came to them, could give you the resolution you were looking for and the answer to the questions you were asking yourself. And there would be nothing more than that, because it would be impossible to restore the friendship you once had. Perhaps the truth would be painful, but you would accept it as it was and move on. Now, as old as you were, it would not be as hard as it was ten years ago when in the midst of confusion and desolation you could only cry.

Now, you had already gone through the mourning and made peace with the distance, the absence and the betrayal.

Maybe, if you tried a little harder, you could bring real closure —and soon, hopefully— by finding the answers on your own.

-

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, which he was spinning around like a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and solve any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would make everyone feel comfortable enough to move forward.

In his head, Namjoon was a three thousand dollars conflict-solver. Seeking solutions from reason and objectivity was basically how he kept his company afloat, that company he had inherited from his parents and had turned into the economic juggernaut it was today. All that success was summed up in the capacity for resolution that Namjoon had in his super head and, of course, his strategic capacity that allowed him to read his opponents and know exactly what they wanted, how they wanted it and when they wanted it.

However…

The whole table was still silent.

And Namjoon could only look at the faces of each of his friends, his best friends, practically his brothers, while they shied away from his gaze or directly ignored him, while he clasped his hands on the edge of the chair and tried to keep his composure because he no longer knew what to do.

Kim Namjoon, the three-thousandth troubleshooter, had a factory defect and could not fix the one thing he had always been able to fix with ease.

When Hoseok had walked into his office two nights ago with that stern and serious expression, Namjoon knew that there would be more problems to solve. But if he had to be honest, even before that moment he knew it wasn't working out well. Maybe it was because of the delicacy of the subject or the crudeness of his friends to address it, but Namjoon was losing the important ingredient of patience and that was something that hadn't happened to him before.

But then again, how could they all be so insensitive?

“Doesn't anyone have anything to say?”

Hoseok had been the only one to be spared from this discussion, though his presence was required at the table and tension radiated from his body in equal amounts. The others were directly attacked by the three thousandth (broken) problem-solver and despite Namjoon giving them a space to try to explain the situation, the table was still silent and with each passing second the pressure cooker containing Namjoon's anger was beeping louder and louder.

“I don't think there's much to say.”

It was Jin who finally broke the silence and Namjoon let out some air.

“Ah, thank you, Jin. Why do you think so?”

With his arms crossed, the older sent him an incredulous look.

“We've had this conversation three times already, Namjoon. Why do you think it's necessary for us to keep repeating ourselves?”

Hoseok had told Namjoon that he was concerned about the coexistence in the pent-house and that perhaps the elephant in the room was not being addressed in the right way; that more and more misunderstandings were being created between everyone and that it was making for an untrustworthy environment for the youngers. Namjoon agreed halfway through; if he had to be honest, none of it would've gotten to that point if none of them had been so irresponsible and daring to do all that they had done. And Jin had the least right to dismiss the issue as he had.

“Because you all don't seem to have listened to me at all, especially you.”

Jin snorted and turned his head away. Jungkook beside him barely winced at the hostile exchange.

“And what did I do?”

“What did you do? Jin, how can you be so inconsiderate?”

“I only rushed an exchange that was eventually going to happen, what the fuck is wrong with that?”

Namjoon tried not to look so surprised by the fact that the conversation he had had with him two nights ago and Yoongi had basically gone in one ear and out the other. Namjoon had no idea if it was an occupational hazard or a personality trait, but Jin was having a kind of stubbornness that bordered too much on his pride and desire to be right.

And right now it wasn't about who was right or wrong. It was about the fact that they had all made a promise and now they were breaking it as if it was worthless. Worse, as if the only ones affected by it were them and not a third party.

“Didn't you stop to think how she would feel if she found out that was how things went down?”

Jin rolled his eyes, but didn't answer him.

“Why do you all do all these things without believing that they will have consequences beyond your own feelings? That's all I'm asking you to consider!”

Taehyung and Jungkook at least had the decency to actually look embarrassed, avoiding Namjoon's gaze. Jimin was still convinced that he had done nothing extremely wrong and Yoongi simply demonstrated his sorrow through indifference. Namjoon knew that Yoongi was just as frustrated as he was with the way things were going, because they were the only ones trying to fix the messes the others had been thoughtlessly causing. And Jin… well, it was obvious that he didn't see any big implications beyond having to be scolded by Namjoon.

“Guys…” Hoseok started, sitting to Namjoon's right with a tired and defeated expression. If Namjoon and Yoongi were looking out for the integrity of the third party concerned, Hoseok was the one who was most concerned about the bonds that were breaking between them and that was why he had gone to Namjoon to have a group meeting again and set the boundaries once and for all. “You guys know that Namjoon is not just talking for the sake of talking. Jin, you don't need to get defensive. I understand that you tried to make the connection in good faith, but you have to understand that it was a very high risk. And while Dohyun is your friend, you know he's not very trustworthy.”

Jin grunted then, despite the kind tone Hoseok used to address him, and the others at the table only sent him a surprised look.

“Sure, now it's all my own damn fault. Not only do I have to deal with the stress of work, now I have to come to my supposed time off to deal with this too?”

“Hyung,” Yoongi called after him and frowned at the rude tone the older had used. “No one is saying it's your fault. We all have a part in this.”

“I don't care, Yoongi. Whatever's going on right now you know who's really to blame. And there's nothing you can do about it anymore.”

“Jin,” Namjoon called back and the aforementioned turned to look at him with daggers in his eyes. “You made the promise too.”

“Yes, one I never agreed to and you know it.”

Hoseok sighed and ran his hands over his face. “This is not the time to apportion blame, okay? I only wanted this space because I want us to fix this lack of communication and all this hostility that is affecting our living together.”

Namjoon turned to look at the table, finding the younger ones sealed in silence. None of them raised their heads and they showed signs of nervousness and anxiety, even if they tried to hide it under the tablecloth on the table.

There were too many things Namjoon wanted to control; there were too many things he wanted to solve; there were a number of other things that drove him mad and others that made him feel hopeless. Understanding all these emotions, his own or others', was wearing him down and perhaps that was why he was increasingly losing an ounce of patience. However, no matter how hard it was for him, Namjoon had to be sure that his priority was right in front of him. He had chosen to do so a couple of years ago and he could no longer turn back time.

“Hey, I'm sorry, okay?” Namjoon started once again and although Hoseok tried to shush him to calm down, he continued, “I know how I've acted during these days since everything started and I have not been very open to dialogue. For me it was… it was like crossing a forbidden boundary and I couldn't understand how you guys could jump over it without a second thought. It made my hair stand on end and I didn't… I didn't… I didn't know how to contain those emotions, I didn't know how to control them and clearly I didn't know how to express them. And the truth is that it worries me. I understand that you don't, because otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that, but I would like you to try to do that because this is not a unilateral action that will only affect you and will only be in your memories. You are affecting her too, and very much so. We were not good, not even friendly or cordial, so I need you to understand that all these things she will not see them as you think. Jungkook, you experienced it first hand. She hates us.”

Jungkook jerked on the chair and Taehyung was the one who reached over the table to take his intertwined hands. Jin sighed, finally letting the anger dissipate and Yoongi mimicked him, a little calmer as he watched his elder relax. Hoseok shook his head in assent, noticing the tension at the table dissipate a bit and how the young men held each other.

“And rightly so, because we made an inexcusable decision. And not only that, but she will now believe that it was a simple Tuesday for us and it's not. We made the promise for a reason and anything related we were supposed to consult first as a group. Sure, life happens and we get busy with a lot of things and have too much on our minds, but this was all inexcusable and we owe her more than forgiveness. We probably owe her our lives.”

“Hyung, I'm sorry…”

Jungkook was the most regretful. Since that harsh encounter, for which he dared to risk his presence in public and for which he believed it would be worth a try, Jungkook had never regretted something so much since the day of the promise. He still remembered the hatred your voice exuded and shivers ran down his spine. He had been unconscious, that was true, and he didn't know what he had let consume his body to have made that decision or to have simply acted without thinking. The possibility of seeing you again simply…blinded him. But that was never an excuse.

And Namjoon knew that. It was Jungkook who acted worse than everyone else, but he also couldn't deny to himself that had he found himself in the same predicament, with the same opportunity, he wouldn't have done the same. Maybe that's why he was so demanding of others, because that's how he reminded himself that he had no right to even think about it, much less act on their emotions, when they had taken away your choice as if they had any say in it.

“We can't erase what has already happened and what you have already done. All I ask is that you don't make it worse.” Namjoon implored, closing his eyes in silent prayer. “At this point there is no way to fix anything, and if every day we do things like this we are only inflicting pain on someone who doesn't deserve it. So please, for the love of God, leave her alone.”

The whole table was still silent, but this time Namjoon could clearly see everyone's face and notice their emotions right away, as he had always been able to do. He still didn't understand what had moved them to do all that; to Taehyung, to Jungkook, to Jin, to Jimin, despite everything they had discussed before, and he didn't understand how he hadn't been able to foresee their intentions from the beginning. But he could no longer focus on what had happened, but on what was happening and what he could still fix.

For that which had already been broken for years, Namjoon doubted too much that any of it could ever be fixed, no matter how hard he tried. And boy, would he have wanted to try.

“I'm sorry,” Jin mumbled, and it almost seemed like he had ripped the words from the back of his throat, but Namjoon took it with all his being and considered it the first victory on this new path.

When he finally dispatched everyone, Jimin remained seated to his left.

“Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

The blond looked disgruntled, and though it was clear that the tension was gone from his shoulders, in his gaze was that longing that Namjoon hadn't seen in years and certainly didn't allow in himself for all that he had previously exposed.

“Do you really think it's impossible to fix it?”

Namjoon hated knowing that the gleam in Jimin's eye had no future. At least not the one he wanted to believe. Namjoon, like everyone else, had spent sleepless nights thinking, remembering, reflecting and considering that they were never brave enough nor necessarily tough enough to earn that friendship once again. It had all gone to waste and it had been because of them.

“Yeah, I don't think that's possible.”

Jimin passed his saliva harshly, as if his mouth was dry, but he had to control and keep his emotions in check. Namjoon knew his every emotion and mainly knew how sensitive this whole issue was for Jimin, who from the beginning never agreed with him on anything and never hesitated to let him know. In fact, it took a couple of years before Namjoon could finally have this close relationship with Jimin again, until the blond decided to forgive him.

“It's silly to hope at this point, right?”

Namjoon also knew that Jimin struggled a lot to stop pointing blames, as Jin still did. He knew that, had Jimin had the opportunity in his hands several years in the past, he would have taken it and perhaps left them behind if he could. It was an extremely complex and long process to get the blond to trust Namjoon and those on his side again, which was one of the reasons why Hoseok was so insistent on talking and communicating and keeping everyone on good terms. It had cost them so much to re-form their trust that he couldn't allow it to crack once again.

Jimin nodded at his words when they were met with silence, for there was nothing Namjoon could say to comfort him. It was simply a heartbreaking situation.

“Tae and I will be with Jungkook.” Jimin assured Namjoon as he stood up. “Thank you… for trying.”

Namjoon only nodded, pressing his lips together in an attempt at a smile. Things would not automatically go back to the way they were before, as Namjoon's sternness in dealing with this issue on previous occasions was what initially caused this whole fiasco of miscommunication and hostility. He was heartily grateful that likewise Jimin took him into consideration, because he didn't know if he would be able to sleep knowing that everyone in that pent-house hated him. He didn't know if being the reason for the constant discord would allow him to have a respite of peace of mind at some point, when he was simply trying to do what he thought was best for everyone and what suited them on a sentimental level.

Kim Namjoon used to believe that he was good at dealing with any kind of problem. In his head, over which he circled as if it was a huge sphere and he was a hamster, Namjoon was sure that he could fix any situation and provide a solution to any misunderstanding, any fight or at least come to an agreement that would allow everyone to feel comfortable enough to move forward.

However, at that moment, the past tense wording was the most accurate.

Namjoon used to believe.

Jimin stopped halfway up the stairs, transfixed, and Namjoon watched him curiously. Then, the blond half-turned on his heels and Namjoon got front row view of Jimin's pale face and his exaggeratedly expanded eyes as he looked at his phone.

“Hyung…”

Namjoon came striding over, intrigued as well as concerned by the expression on the blond's face.

Jimin had his Instagram open, specifically his direct messages. There was the message there that had made Jimin stop dead in his tracks and all blood dropped to his feet, but Namjoon didn't understand what the reason for his surprise was until he saw the sender, and then his eyebrows disappeared into his hair.

y/n Let's meet

--

omg🙊🙊

tag: @rinkud@futuristicenemychaos@pastelpeachess@parapiop7@11thenightwemet11 @yoongznme @queenbloody @lynnettys-world @darlingz99 @dreamerwasfound @chaotickyrith @kokoandkookie @midiplier @thunderg @lizzymizzy-blogg @ladymorrie @butnotmontana @lovelgirl22 @jjeonjjk7 @aurorathi @ot7stansthigs @kunacat @borahaetelevision @mylovingstars @ghostlyworld @talyaaas-blog @slowlyshycomputer @jjk174 @maynina @kariningss @juju-227592 @zippaur @v4ksk4tz @kookierry @idk179634 @canarystwin @jincapableoflove @notrustfratedjin @elliott-calls @devilzliaison @ismelllikechlorine247 @19yearoldjstryingtolivelife @thatgirliehan @yuuuumii @welcometomyworld13 @sugarbaby69x @whoa-jo @cerulean1riz @kawennote09 @angelfuzzy2 @themoonsblueside @damn-u-min-yoongi @drenix004 @dhanyasri @borahaetelevision

[sweetkpopmusings]

cuddly jisung <3

a/n: ahh !!!! jisung is just a sweet babygirl and i love him DEARLY ! i’ve been in my jisung feels all day, so i needed to write this request <333 i also may be definitely am tipsy, so i’m sitting in front of my computer like 🥺💗thinking of cuddly jisung <3333 i wanted to try a different format for this one, so let me know your thoughts ! :-) pics not mine~~

a/n p.s.: i accidentally deleted the original ask where this request was sent (i'm so sorry!!!), so i hope it finds the original requester, wherever you are now :-(((( </3

content: fluff, established relationship | wc: 0.5k | warnings: none really! | pairing: bf!jisung x gn!reader | requests: open

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

sleepy jisung♡‧₊˚

jisung gets so so so clingy the moment his eyelids droop from sleepiness. if he so much as yawns when you’re nearby, he’ll be glued to your side within seconds. he’s such a whiny baby too. if you push him away, he’ll threaten to cry, his big brown eyes glistening, murmuring why won’t you cuddle me? it does not matter if you are in the middle of folding clothes or working. to jisung, the only cure for his restless state is to be in your arms, and he’ll do whatever he can to snuggle into your embrace.  

excited jisung♡‧₊˚ 

when jisung gets a burst of energy, he is bouncing right at your side. did you get good news? his hands are on your shoulders while he’s jumping up and down, screaming with joy. did they have your favorite snacks at the store? he’s wrapping his arms around you saying i can’t believe it! we’re so lucky! did you smile at him cutely? he’s holding your face in both of his hands, cooing praises of how adorable you are. please return the favor and hold his face in your hands, for that will send jisung to an entirely different dimension of happiness. in the end, any time jisung’s eyes are sparkling, his hand is searching for yours, ready to give an enthusiastic squeeze or pull you into a hug to remind you how lucky he feels to have you around.

stressed jisung♡‧₊˚ 

it doesn’t take long into the relationship for you to know signals of jisung’s stress. if his shoulders are slumped or his walk is slow, you call his name and outstretch your arms. every time, he melts into you, sighing in relief for the first time in forever. with your fingers twirling his hair and massaging his scalp, he’ll spill all his worries and thank you endlessly. up close and able to hear your heartbeat, he remembers that, with you by his side, he can endure anything. you are his safe space, his cure, and he reminds you every day that he’ll always open his arms to hold you and protect you from harm.

sad jisung♡‧₊˚ 

jisung gets especially cuddly when he’s feeling down. he appreciates anything you do to lift his mood, but the number one cure is to bury his head into your hair or shoulder or neck or chest, safe from whatever is hurting him. this urge to lose himself in you heightens whenever he misses you. he’ll message you daily, telling you how much he loves you and keeping a tally of how many hugs he owes you. once you’re within arms reach, he’s wrapping his body around you and never letting go. even if there are tears in his eyes, he’s whispering i love you, y/n.

lovestruck jisung♡‧₊˚

jisung is in awe of you from the moment you meet, and that grows stronger the more he gets to know you. when you two have time alone together, he gravitates toward you, settling into your warmth. frequently, you’ll catch him staring at you while you’re watching something together because he cannot believe how real and beautiful you are. he’s a big fan of playing with your hands and hair too. it’s a simple gesture, but it’s his way of appreciating even the smallest details of you. truly, when he is overwhelmed by how much he loves you, he’ll hold you however possible and have the biggest, sweetest, most heartwarming grin on his face because you are his favorite person in the world.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

[bones4thecats]

Adopting Their Fallen Enemy's Child (PT.1) ~ RoR/SnV x Child! Reader

Type of Writing: Poll Result Characters: Thor, Shiva, & Child! Reader Name: Adopting Their Fallen Enemy's Child (PT.1) Original Poll Link: Here Other Parts: (PT.2)

A/N: I actually really liked this idea on the poll I made, and I hope it turned out as good as I imagined it! Enjoy!!

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●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🌩️ Your father was the Lü Bu, the Flying General himself, and when you heard from the Valkyrie named Brunhilde that he was set to fight in the first match of Ragnarok, you gave him the best support he could’ve asked for

🌩️ You sat alongside his army, with his strategist, Chen Gong, sitting next to you, trying to keep you from jumping down and attacking the God of Thunder yourself

🌩️ When Chen Gong and the others sacrificed themselves, stating their loyalty to you father, you stood there in shock and tear-filled eyes as Thor looked at you, seeing a child without anyone left

🌩️ He felt guilty, but this was what they wanted, they wanted to join their lord, and while he initially wanted to just leave the area, he walked up to you and shocked the Gods and Humans as he kneeled down and hugged you

🌩️ After that day, you stayed by Thor’s side, he reminded you so much of your father it would make you cry

🌩️ Thor may not be the best person when it comes to comforting, but he tries his best when it comes to you, Lü Bu was the one person who could stand a fight against him, and because of this, he would try training you to be just as strong as your father and him

🌩️ He honors your father with you. Every day on his birthday, and on the days of each of his soldiers, including Chen Gong, you would walk into a field in the forest located in the Chinese section of Valhalla, you would both hand off flowers and lay them on the graves you and him had made

🌩️ The words he said to you when he comforted you that day are words that you will never forget

“ Your father was an honorable man, I hope you know that. And because of the honor he possessed, I will take you in as my own. I believe it is something that your father would’ve wanted. “

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

🪩 He believed that Raiden was the one opponent he would remember the rest of his life, and when he saw the now-deceased rikishi stare at a young child with the two Valkyries, he froze

🪩 The man was a father, just like him

🪩 But while his child could handle loss of someone easily, you appeared to be around a young teen, this must’ve been one of the hardest things you ever had to witness

🪩 Shiva looked at you and back at the crumbling Raiden Tameemon, guilt filled his heart, which was something he hadn’t felt for such a long time, why did he feel guilty? He just won and brought honor to his pantheon!

🪩 Watching as you ran down and tried hugging the remaining pieces of your father just got him staring back at his wives and son, and when he saw how saddened their eyes were then they looked at you

🪩 The God of Destruction walked up to you and you jumped back when his one arm reached out to you, and that action made the Humans cry out for him to not hurt you

🪩 He kneeled down and since he was just on fire, the heat that radiated off of him made you hold your head away from him

“ Look at me, young one. “

🪩 You looked up at him and saw how his eyes shimmered with guilt, making you look at where your father once stood and back at the man who caused his demise

🪩 Shiva held is one arm back as you tried helping him stay standing when he slumped over in pain, after all, losing three arms doesn't exactly make anyone, including Gods, feel very good

🪩 Once you came to visit him with his wives and son, he saw how you carried yourself around him, not with resentment or fear, but with care and gentleness, making him smile

🪩 Whenever he rested, you laid next to him, you were like another child of his, and when he offered to take care of you in the Hindu Pantheon, it made you jump up and down and hug him and his wives as they agreed to taking you in as their own

“ Your father was one of the best fighters I have ever met in my thousands of years of life. And… seeing you look so painfully at where your father once stood, I just, I knew you had to have someone there for you. Would you do me, and my wives, the honor of joining our family? ”

[strongheartneteyam]

[ credits of the Neteyam pic go to cinetrix ]

Champagne Problems.

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!human!reader

CW: angsty, reader feeling her heart hurt, adeline being funny and shipping reader and neteyam, symptoms of PTSD (like a nightmare), sexual tension, confessions of love, angry neteyam, confused neteyam, yearning, crying, fluff, sexual content, neteyam loving reader's breasts, neteyam using his fangs on reader's body, p in v, territorial neteyam, needy and clingy neteyam, slight breeding kink, creampie

I almost cried writing this chapter and istg my pussy clenched hard while I was writing the smut part so… have a good read, I guess lol ps: I know I said I was gonna have a break from uploading my long fics (and I am!) but there was an itch in my hand to finish this story and I gave in and scratched it lol I kinda knew I eventually would. But I'm only gonna update the other fics next year. This one was an exception bc there was only one chapter left (this one lol)

Not proofread. I woke up in the middle of the night to write this, it's already morning outside and I'm sleepy and sick :(

Part 7: All I want is you

𓇼

It's hard to be anywhere these days when all I want is you

You're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

And I just wanted you to know that this is me trying

this is me trying (Taylor Swift)

𓇼

In the morning, you woke up and realized you were no longer sitting on the floor, resting your back against the wall of Kiri's marui, but rather laying in your mat. You had a sharp headache but you didn't really know why. Maybe lack of enough sleep, maybe tension… Your eyes searched around for Neteyam but he was no longer there. You knew instantly that Neteyam had been the one to carry you to your mat. He was the only one awake other than you when you two were talking while it was eclipse and you knew it wasn't his nature to leave a girl sleeping while sitting down on the floor in a weird position and go home. No, he was too much of a gentleman for that.

The realization that you were about to go back to the lab in a few days and leave Neteyam behind again hit you like a train. The thought of being without him and having no guarantee that he wasn't gonna find a mate while you were gone and when you'd come back and see him again, he'd be happy with a beautiful na'vi girl by his side - perhaps even carrying his baby in her womb - broke you in a billion little pieces.

Your heart started to beat fast in your chest, like it was gonna escape from inside your body and come out through your throat. But there was also a big lump in your throat. Anxiety stinged your whole body like sharp, thin needles. 

You didn't want to lose Neteyam. Just imagining having to stare at a wall in your room at night, to see his sweet face in the crushing darkness and feel the tears rolling down your face, reminding you that you would never be able to hold him again, to feel his huge but gentle hands on your skin, to smell his comforting scent… and worse: to know he would be in some other girl's arms every night, letting her kiss him, having… God, having sex with her…

No. You couldn't let him go. It would rip your heart apart.

And if Neteyam didn't go for Munì like you thought he did, that meant that he didn't stop loving you… right? That's what you were desperately hoping for. You were almost sure you had seen him get slightly happy when you acted like an idiot and let him see how jealous you were of Munì last night. Maybe that meant he still felt something for you.

If you were right about Neteyam's feelings, you didn't quite know why he loved the mess of a girl that you were but… somehow he did, and he was sad because of you, because you refused to be his mate when that's all you truly wanted, in the first place. You had let fear hold you back once again. But not this time. You had to be brave. You had to at least try.

Putting the sheet that was once over you to the side, you uncovered your body and, in a rapid motion, you got up from your mat and got to your feet, feeling the slight coldness on the floor of the marui. Your feet walked slowly but surely among your two best human friends, trying hard not to step on or kick one of the girls as they were sleeping right next to your mat. 

You got startled by Adeline's voice echoing in the morning air as she whispered energetically to you.

"(y/n), where are you going?" Her voice was hoarse and slightly funny, because of slumber.

"I thought you were sleeping!" You whispered back as you looked at her sleepy and moody face while she laid down in her mat

"I was but I felt the need to pee and woke up. Answer my question, please!" She demanded

Your heart started beating fast and you spoke "I'm gonna try and make things right with Neteyam."

"Thank God." She dramatically grunted "I knew you liked him all along, I just wouldn't try and force you to mate with the guy, of course. But damn, I've known you since we were kids and I know when you're in love. I wanted to slap you when I saw you looking gloomy and I would ask you what was wrong and you would say that it was nothing but I just knew you were missing him and regretting refusing to be his mate. And Neteyam brought you back to your mat in his freaking arms! You can't let the guy go, you idiot! He loves you! Can't you see it? You both love each other! What was stopping you before from saying “Hey, I know I'm a bit crazy but I wanna be your mate!”?” She sighed, like she was tired of that whole situation

“How do you know Neteyam carried me back to my mat?” Surprise was all over your face

“I woke up at eclipse with your chatter, mamas.” She said nonchalantly 

“Oh…” You awkwardly spoke “So, you heard everything?” You cringed

“I heard a lot of it. Enough to know Neteyam is worth it. Now do what you gotta do. I gotta go relieve myself.” She demanded like a mother would

Your laughter echoed around. Adeline didn't realize how funny she was. You loved her. So, so much. That bitch was everything to you.

In only seconds you found yourself rushing out of the marui's door and your feet walking quickly through the warm Metkayina sand.

After a good while looking around and only seeing turquoise skinned tall Metkayina people, you finally found Neteyam. The sight of his broad, striped back did things to you. It made you remember how insanely good it felt when he was inside of you that rainy night on his hammock.

"Neteyam!" You yelled, sounding way more desperate than you had wanted to, and Neteyam rapidly turned around looked at you, his face covered with surprise

"I'm sorry! I do wanna be with you!" You spoke, breath a bit labored as you felt nervous and insecure about his reaction. The next thing you saw, you were breaking down in tears. 

"Why did you refuse me, then?" Neteyam asked,  slightly angry and utterly confused 

He did not understand why you had put you both through all that pain if you did love him too.

"I guess I was just afraid of finally having something beautiful in my life again, to feel safe again and then lose it. I couldn't bear to lose you. The truth is, I've had a crush on you since we first met too and I think I started to have deeper feelings for you at the party. Maybe we fell for each other at the same time" you chuckled wearily between tears, thinking that if it truly happened, it was beautiful and seemed like something out of a romantic movie

“Were you afraid that I was gonna leave you?” Neteyam asked, furrowing his hairless eyebrows 

“Yes…” You shamefully confirmed.

It seemed like you only ever thought the worst of Neteyam, even though he was known to be a good man and only proved you again and again how much he cared about you.

"Why would I ever leave you if I love you? It's as simple as that, tawtute." Neteyam stated

An amazed smile was born amidst your tears and your heart sped up as your brain processed those words.

"Are you saying you… love me?" It still seemed too good to be true.

"I'm saying I love you more than you will ever know, syulang." Neteyam walked closer to you and tried to touch your hand

You backed away slightly and he felt frustrated. Even as you declared your love for him you were still so guarded. Neteyam let out an impatient breath out of his feline nostrils.

“Tawtute, please, be my mate.” He asked you once again, his heart open to you once again.

“But what about tsaheylu? You can’t make it with me! What if you one day realize you regret missing out on this experience? It’s such an important thing to your people…” You let out a choked sob as you pronounced those words that felt like a stab in the heart

“Not again with the excuses…” Neteyam thought

“Listen” Neteyam asked for your attention “I do not care if you don’t have tendrils and we can’t make tsaheylu. What’s even the point of tsaheylu if I can’t make it with the girl I love? Tsaheylu is about sharing your affection, your devotion, your need with your mate and I don’t need or want anyone else but you, tawtute.”

You kept sobbing and just couldn't seem to stop.

Neteyam grabbed you and held you inside his strong, long arms, one of his hands on the back of your head, pressing it against his body and the other on your shoulder. His warm embrace felt reassuring.

"It's okay, oeyä tawtute. You are safe with me."

After a while holding you like that, he gently pushed you away from him and held your chin up so you could look at his face.

"I won't ever leave you. I promise you, with the Great Mother as my witness, I will never ever let you go. I'm yours forever. I have been yours for so long…" He gave you a calm smile and wiped your tears away

Your gleaming eyes gazed up at his face. He was so beautiful, his dark blue stripes forming intricate pattern on his forehead, a pattern unique to his body. His bioluminescent freckles adorned his big face and shone slightly even in the light of day. You were so damn lucky to have such a beautiful man be so deeply in love with you.

“So, what's it gonna be?” Neteyam's big thumb caressed your reddened face as his lips were curled in a gentle smile, showing no teeth “Can I finally get an “yes” from your beautiful lips?”

You chuckled and smiled big.

“Yes.” Neteyam's heart swelled with affection and relief “Yes, I'm gonna be your mate, Neteyam.”

“Nga yawne lu oer, oeyä tawtute.” (I love you, my human) Neteyam grabbed your face that was tiny inside his two big hands and kissed you eagerly, his lips pressing against yours like he had been needing that for so long.

Neteyam had been dreaming awake every night about how it would feel if he ever got to kiss your small mouth again. His tongue touched the slit of your mouth, deliciously warm and wet and you parted your lips so he could explore the insides of your mouth. Neteyam's large tongue licked your tongue and you moaned in delight at the sensation. You had missed his kisses so damn much… Neteyam tasted your mouth like you were the sweetest berry juice in the whole Universe.

“I missed your lips and your tongue, syulang. I was craving you.”  Neteyam said and softly placed a last peck in your lips 

“I missed you too. A lot.” You smiled at him, still tasting him on your tongue "I love you too." Neteyam smiled at you when hearing those words he was dying to hear for so long.

“Come, have lunch with me, oeyä hì'i muntxate.” (my small mate)

You agreed and Neteyam took your hand inside his much bigger one, taking you to the place where the na'vi were handling food to each other.

Many curious blue eyes looked at the both of you as Neteyam possessively held you by your waist and talked to you gently.

“I'm gonna get some fish and herbs for us, okay?” He smiled happily at you, like he either didn't notice or didn't care about how all the Metkayina at that part of the reef seemed to be watching yours and Neteyam's every move.

Quickly he grabbed the fish and took you to some rocks away from everyone else, what made you let out a relieved silent breath.

You two ate your fish, that had been prepared on a bonfire - it tasted delicious, by the way. Slightly spicy but also with fresh notes of something that reminded you of peppermint. Alien food was better than you had ever anticipated while you prepared on Earth to travel to Pandora.

"By the way, I'm sorry about your arm. I bet it hurt a lot…" You brought it up, after swallowing a mouthful of fish

"Not that much. I'm strong." He played around but Neteyam truly wanted you to see him as a strong na'vi male. He knew it was boyish but he did it anyway.

He won a quick joyful chuckle from you.

"I was gonna tell you that yesterday but I guess I got too nervous and then too emotional and I ended up forgetting to. I'm sorry, I think I tend to seem self-centered sometimes…" You spoke

"Don't worry about it. You do seem aloof and a little self-centered" You scoffed in a joking manner at his bluntness but you actually said “Ouch!” on the inside.

Damn, Neteyam truly knew how to humble someone...

“But I know that's not who you really are. People just have to take enough time to get to know you and they'll see what I see." 

"And what do you see?" Your eyes shone with wonder and your voice was playful 

"I see a smart, strong, sensitive and amazingly beautiful girl."

Your cheeks turned red. You weren't expecting so much praise.

“Ok, stop… I'm not all that.” You awkwardly stated, avoiding his gaze

“Of course you are. I don't know why you can't see it, tawtute.”

Maybe because you hadn't heard that a lot throughout your life…

To be fair, you had been called beautiful and smart many times but not the other two. Kate and Adeline would tell you that you were strong when you needed to hear it but you always wondered if they perhaps just said that because they were your closest, best friends and they only wanted to make you feel better.

𓇼

After lunch, Neteyam sneaked out with you and took you to a private place on the beach where his hammock was hanging, somewhere more secluded, where the both of you could be alone. You knew just what he wanted and you could not lie and say that you were not craving the exact same thing.

Neteyam took you in his arms, winning a squeaky laugh from you as he lift you off your feet. 

Neteyam sat you on his big hammock, your legs hanging in the air and not touching the clear sand. He knelt in front of you and before you knew it, he was kissing you. Neteyam eagerly took your lower lip between his soft, full lips, suckling on it ever so slightly and then pressing his mouth against yours. Neteyam's huge blue hands cupped both your breasts over your white cropped top and you whimpered in pleasure.

"Oeyä tawtute…" he cried out "Let me see these titties" his mouth hanged slightly open with anticipation and desire

Once you let him take your bra off, Neteyam groaned in an animalistic, primal way.

"These perfect soft titties are mine now, oeyä muntxate. Only mine."

"Yours, Neteyam." You breathed, so taken by him and the moment. Your panties were slick with your juices, so much he turned you on.

Neteyam laid you down gently but eagerly on his hammock. He wasted no time and quickly brought his lips to your breasts. He had been dreaming of that ever since the first time he saw your breasts jiggle under your shirt when you were walking fast, troubled with your scientist work. Your boobs were just so different from the na'vi females ones and it made Neteyam daydream about how it would feel to have your small buds inside his mouth.

Neteyam sucked on your nipples like he was hungry and desperate to taste your skin. He licked your sensitive buds swiftly, leaving them hard and wet with his saliva. All you could do was look down at his mesmerizing blue face, staring at his bioluminescent little freckles and moan loud. You started to worry if people could hear but you decided it was not important if they did or not and you just did not care. That intimate, raw moment you were having with your Neteyam was much more important than anything else in the Universe.

He started using his fangs to tease your breasts slowly and you whimpered at the sting but also enjoyed the bittersweet pleasure it gave you. 

“If you want me to stop, just say it, oeyä tawtute.”

“No. Keep doing it, please” You asked

Neteyam bit your right breast harder this time and you moaned loud again. The acute feeling of his sharp fangs harassing your sensitive skin made you feel an incredible sensation that lied somewhere between discomfort and delight but that ended up just being incredibly addictive. Your folds were even more soaked by now.

“Neteyam, please, fuck me, baby” you begged “I need you.”

“Fuck, muntxate, you're so needy for me. It's so hot, yawne…” Neteyam's heavy breath collided with your skin, sending shivers all over your body

Neteyam undressed you quickly and took his loincloth off just as rapidly, his cock hard and proud, slightly curved to the side.

Neteyam took his cock in his hand and rubbed his swollen tip on your glistening clit, making your body tremble.

“Neteyam… please.” You protested

“Say you want it.” He looked into your eyes, his big golden irises shining with the sight of you in front of him, his mouth in a teasing smirk. His accent drove you insane.

“Please, fuck me…” Your face showed him how desperate you were to feel him

“Do you want me to fill you up with my cock, tawtute?” He dig for more

“Yes, Neteyam, I need your big cock inside of my pussy, please, please…” It's like you couldn't take it anymore. Your cunt felt so empty without him.

After hearing those enticing words, Neteyam swiftly placed his large blue cock at your soaked entrance and pushed it all in at once, making you moan loudly in sheer, raw pleasure. 

"Eywa, how I missed this pussy! Your ekxìn pussy feels so fucking good, my little tanhì." (star) Neteyam murmured as he thrusted hungrily into you, his big, girthy cock stretching your insides and filling you up completely.

Neteyam's feelings for you were just so strong that he felt like no words would ever be enough to express his emotions so, he was trying to show you how he felt about you by loving your body instead, pouring out all his yearning for you through his kisses, his desperate caresses, his thrusts…

"Tawtute" Neteyam cried out as he thrusted roughly into you "Oeyä muntxate." (my mate) "Mine. All mine, yawntu…" (loved one) He whimpered in your ear, melancholic and driven wild by his desire and ardent affection for you "Nga yawne lu oer." (I love you) "So, so much."

Neteyam's breath was heavy and irregular as he pounded himself into you as hard as he could. He needed you so much, he felt like he would die if he could not have all of you, if he could not claim you once and for all. It was so good that he didn't last long and came inside of you, his thick warm seed shooting strongly towards your womb. He hoped to breed you but he didn't know you were taking birth control pills. Neteyam's load of cum was so big that it leaked out of your cunt even as he was still inside of you. That was so dirty and sexy that your pussy clenched around his cock as you felt his warm liquid leaking out of your stretched entrance.

After cuddling for a while, when you were looking to find your bra that Neteyam had thrown somewhere in the sand, he looked at your breasts, the two of them full of his bite marks and a big beautiful smile adorned his full lips, followed by a joyful chuckle.

“I marked you well, syulang. Now everybody can see that you're mine. Oeyä muntxate. Mine forever.” He leaned in for a kiss, pressing his soft lips on yours, so needy. Neteyam tasted so sweet but so unique at the same time. He tasted like himself. Nothing else could compare.

You chuckled. “You're so pervy.”

“But you love it.” He smiled at you, his sharp fangs more charming than ever

“Hey! Just because I'm your mate now it doesn't mean you get to be all cocky again.” You teased, pretending to be angry, as you pushed his arm away with your hand

Neteyam only smiled wider. He was over the moon that you were now finally his. All his. Until the end of time.

Neteyam yawned, body still in full bliss because of the powerful orgasm you had given him.

“I'm sleepy, oeyä tawtute. Take a nap with me.” He was already grabbing you in his big striped arms and laying you back on the hammock with him.

“You're not giving me a choice, anyway.” You chuckled and yawned too.

Soon your tired eyes fell shut, as you felt his warm breath on your skin.

𓇼

In the middle of the afternoon, you woke up crying, desperately breathing gasping for air. Neteyam woke up startled with your panicking state. Another nightmare... One of those that left your heart aching and your mind confused for long after you woke up, wondering if it had been reality or not.

“What's wrong, yawntu?” (loved one) 

When you realized Neteyam was by your side, still holding you against his warm body, you felt relieved but only seemed to cry more. You buried your head on his soft chest and he just let you cry there, petting your head softly with his hand, his slender fingers running through your locks of hair every now and then, trying to comfort you.

Eventually you stopped crying, sniffing one last time. You placed a kiss on Neteyam's chest, your lips lingering on his skin for longer than they normally would, as if to try and make sure that he was really there with you, that he was real and was not going away.

“Wanna tell me what happened now, oeyä muntxate?” (my mate)

You looked up at his face, eyes reddish.

“I had a terrible nightmare…” just the reminder made your heart ache again “I dreamt you left me. You got tired of me and found a better mate.”

“Tawtute… that's never gonna happen.”

“You promise?” You needed to hear him promise…

“I promise.” He tried to kiss you but you backed away a bit 

“What if your parents don't approve of us? Will you leave me then?” You hated how clingy and annoying you were sounding 

Neteyam started thinking that he would have to have an endless amount of patience with you. Your fear controlled you way too often. He would have to teach you how to be a little more free. But he would do it gladly.

"Listen, yawntutsyìp" (little loved one) Neteyam held your small face inside of both his huge blue hands "We will fight whatever we have to, whatever comes our way, and we will stay together forever, okay? I'm not letting anything separate me from you. Nothing, you hear me? Nothing." He promised you.

You breathed in and decided you had to try and believe him, otherwise you would end up sabotaging your relationship with Neteyam, you would end up contributing to what you feared the most: him leaving you. What you did not know was that there was actually nothing you could do to drive Neteyam away. He had been chasing you for way too long, he had fought for you like he had fought in the war against the Sky People. Neteyam was too much of a good warrior and too proud to let you go after all that. And damn, he could not imagine a life without you. Not a life where he would be happy and fulfilled, at least. He needed you to see the morning air as fresh, to hear the song of the birds as lively, to see the light of the stars as a guide.

“Okay. I trust you, Neteyam.” You stated, utterly sure of your words this time.

𓇼

♡ Epilogue ♡

You felt safe for the first time in so long while Neteyam held you inside his big arms, his body heat spreading all over you. It felt so cozy and just so… right. Like you had finally found what you needed, what you were unconsciously looking for all along.

Safety, trust, shelter… love.

Funny how sometimes when we need love the most is when we push it away the most, hurt the people who are trying to give it to us the most because we're so terrified to get hurt again, to finally trust and be let down again that we would rather keep drowning in our pain and in our loneliness. Pain can feel comfortable, as crazy as it sounds.

Turn a curse into a kiss

You could have never seen it coming, you could have never imagined back on your Earth days that your safe place to fall would be in the arms of an alien in an exoplanet, outside of your home solar system. What a weird happy ending. But it doesn't matter. There's still much more to come. This isn't the end, it's just the beginning.

𓇼

Change the meaning of your world

Love makes no sense, love has no name

Love drowns you in tears and it sets your heart on fire

Love has no fear, love has no reason

So infinitely vast and we're standing at the edge

Take my hand, erase the past forever

Love Exists (Amy Lee)

𓇼

This is the end, guys 🥲🤍 Feels so good to give Teyam and Reader a beautiful happy ending. Thank you all so much for reading my story 💕

•

Taglist:

@iman-lu

@leaveitbythewave

@creepytoes88

@live-laugh-neteyam

@swaggygurlbae

@neteluvr

@layla2-49

@a-blog-name-2003

@lala-1516

@jakesullyfatjuicypeen

@yeosxxx

@iaratezaewa

@somekindofastupidjoke

@fadedpetal

[its-avalon-08]

Could you write a story with Franco Colapinto where maybe the reader is in a bit of a “toxic” relationship with an older boyfriend who takes advantage of her like he wants to control her and everything, and even wants to marry her—a bit of a strange situation. Franco helps her get out of it because he’s madly in love with her.

all mine always (fc43)

✦ pairing - franco colapinto x female!reader

✦ genre - angst, tears, break up, insecurity, fluff

Franco Colapinto had always been Y/N’s favorite person. From the moment their mothers introduced them as toddlers in their small Argentinian neighborhood, they’d been inseparable. Where Franco went, Y/N followed, and vice versa. He was her rock, her safe place, the one person she could count on for anything.

As Franco’s racing career took off, Y/N was his biggest cheerleader, whether screaming at the TV during live broadcasts or waiting for hours at the airport to welcome him home. And for Franco, no matter how loud the crowds were or how far he traveled, he always came back to Y/N. She grounded him, reminded him of who he was when the world made him doubt.

But lately, things had changed. Y/N wasn’t the bubbly, carefree girl he’d always known. Her laughter was more strained, her smiles less frequent. And Franco knew why.

It was because of him.

“You’re quieter than usual. What’s going on?” Franco asked, nudging Y/N’s shoulder as they sat on the hood of his car, overlooking their favorite cliffside view.

Y/N tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, avoiding his gaze. “Nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Tired of what? Life? Me?” He grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

“Of course not you,” she mumbled, and he caught the slight tremor in her voice.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” Franco’s voice softened, and he leaned closer. “It’s me, Y/N. I’ve seen you bawling over rom-coms, eating half a tub of ice cream in one sitting. There’s nothing you can say that’ll scare me off.”

She let out a weak laugh but didn’t meet his eyes. “It’s complicated.”

“What is? Him?” The edge in Franco’s voice was unmistakable.

Y/N’s boyfriend, a man ten years her senior named Marcus, was everything Franco wasn’t. Wealthy, powerful, and utterly controlling. Marcus didn’t like Franco. He didn’t like how close they were, didn’t like how Y/N lit up when she talked about her best friend.

At first, Franco thought Marcus was just jealous. But the more he saw, the more he realized it was something darker. Marcus dictated what Y/N wore, where she went, who she spoke to. He even made her quit her part-time job, claiming he’d “take care of her.”

“Why do you stay with him, Y/N?” Franco finally asked, unable to hold back any longer.

Y/N’s face fell. “He loves me, Franco. He wants to marry me.”

“Marry you?” Franco’s voice rose, and Y/N flinched. “Y/N, he doesn’t love you. He wants to own you.”

“Don’t say that!” she snapped, tears welling in her eyes. “You don’t understand, Franco. He’s been good to me.”

“Good to you?” Franco stood, pacing in frustration. “Y/N, when was the last time you smiled? When was the last time you did something just because it made you happy?”

She was silent, and that silence broke his heart.

Later that night, Franco lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t get the image of Y/N’s tear-filled eyes out of his mind.

He couldn’t lose her to someone like Marcus.

He wouldn’t.

---

It started with the small things. Y/N had always been the loudest laugher in the room, her giggles contagious and uncontainable. But one evening, during a rare dinner at their favorite burger joint, Franco noticed her laughter was muted.

“Remember when you tried to convince me ketchup was a vegetable in second grade?” Franco joked, hoping to coax a smile.

Y/N chuckled lightly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Instead, she glanced at her phone lying face down on the table, as though it held some unspoken threat.

“Y/N, you okay?” Franco pressed.

“Yeah, just… Marcus doesn’t really like when I eat stuff like this,” she murmured, picking at her fries.

Franco frowned. “It’s one burger, Y/N. You’re not signing a lifetime commitment to unhealthy eating.”

She smiled faintly but didn’t touch her food after that.

---

Y/N’s wardrobe had always been a mix of quirky prints, bold colors, and comfortable outfits. She loved experimenting with fashion, her style as vibrant as her personality.

But during one of Franco’s rare visits home, he noticed her wearing muted tones: a beige sweater, black trousers, and flat shoes that looked nothing like the chunky boots she adored.

“Wow, did someone steal all your colors?” Franco teased, eyeing her outfit.

She tugged at the hem of her sweater nervously. “Marcus says these look more… sophisticated. He says I should dress like the woman I’m becoming.”

Franco’s stomach churned. “Since when do you need his approval to dress the way you want?”

“It’s not like that,” she said quickly. “He just wants what’s best for me.”

But Franco couldn’t shake the way she avoided his gaze.

---

Y/N had always been the type to show up unannounced at Franco’s house, snacks in hand, ready to rant about anything and everything. But those visits became less frequent.

One evening, Franco called her after weeks of barely hearing from her.

“Hey, stranger! Do I need to make an appointment to see my best friend now?” he joked.

“Sorry, I’ve just been busy,” she said, her voice hesitant.

“Too busy for me? C’mon, Y/N, that’s not you. What’s really going on?”

“Marcus doesn’t like me hanging out too much. He says it’s distracting me from our future.”

“Our future?” Franco repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. “Y/N, he’s not your entire life.”

“He’s important to me, Franco,” she snapped, but her voice cracked at the end.

Franco sighed, the weight of her words sinking in.

---

Y/N had always been fiercely independent, never afraid to voice her opinions or stand her ground. But that spark seemed dimmed.

One day, Franco overheard her on a call with Marcus while she waited for him at the karting track.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll be home soon, okay? Please don’t be mad.”

When she hung up, Franco approached her.

“Why were you apologizing?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly. “Just a small misunderstanding.”

“Y/N,” Franco said firmly, his tone demanding honesty. “When did you start apologizing for existing?”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, it looked like she might break down. But then she shook her head. “You don’t get it, Franco. Marcus just expects a lot from me. It’s not a bad thing.”

But Franco could see it—how she shrank in on herself, a shadow of the person she used to be.

---

The final straw came when Y/N showed up at Franco’s house one evening, tears streaking her face. She was holding a gift Marcus had given her—a diamond bracelet—though it felt more like a shackle to Franco.

“He said I’m too friendly with other people,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “He thinks I’m not committed enough to him.”

Franco’s jaw tightened. “So what? He bought you this to guilt you into proving it?”

She didn’t respond, just stared at the bracelet with hollow eyes.

“Y/N,” Franco said gently, stepping closer. “This isn’t love. Love doesn’t make you afraid to be yourself.”

She looked up at him, and for the first time, he saw it—the fear, the doubt, the realization that she was trapped.

And that’s when Franco vowed to get her out, no matter what it took.

---

Franco sat across from Y/N in his dimly lit living room. The cozy space that had always been filled with their laughter now felt stifling under the weight of her silence. Her eyes were glued to the floor, fingers fidgeting with the bracelet Marcus had gifted her.

“Y/N, enough.” Franco’s voice was sharp, his frustration barely contained. “Tell me what’s going on. All of it. No more ‘I’m fine,’ no more ‘It’s nothing.’ Because I can’t keep watching you like this.”

Y/N’s hands stilled, and she finally looked up at him. Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, and her lips trembled as she tried to find the words.

“I—” she began, but her voice broke.

“Just say it,” Franco urged, leaning forward, his hands gripping his knees. “Whatever it is, I’m here. Always. You know that.”

And then, like a dam bursting, the words spilled out.

“I feel like I’m losing myself, Franco,” Y/N whispered, her voice shaky. “It’s like… it’s like nothing I do is ever enough for him.”

Franco’s fists clenched, his jaw tightening. “What do you mean?”

She took a deep, shuddering breath. “He controls everything. What I wear, what I eat, who I talk to. If I laugh too loud, he tells me I’m embarrassing him. If I spend too much time out, he says I don’t care about our relationship. And when I try to stand up for myself…”

Her voice cracked, and a tear slid down her cheek.

Franco’s heart shattered. “What happens when you stand up for yourself, Y/N?”

She hesitated, then finally whispered, “He gets angry. Really angry. He doesn’t hit me, but… he’ll yell, or give me the silent treatment for days. And then he’ll apologize, say he just wants the best for me, and I… I believe him. Every time.”

“That bastard,” Franco muttered under his breath, his eyes blazing with fury. “That manipulative, controlling piece of—”

“Stop!” Y/N cried, her voice rising as more tears streamed down her face. “You don’t understand, Franco. He says he loves me. He says he wants to marry me because he can’t live without me. What if he’s right? What if no one else could ever love me like he does?”

Franco shot out of his chair so fast it scraped against the floor. He stood towering over her, his hands trembling with anger.

“No one else could love you? Are you hearing yourself, Y/N? That’s not love—that’s control. That’s manipulation. He doesn’t love you, he loves the idea of owning you.”

Y/N flinched at his harsh tone, and he immediately softened, crouching down in front of her.

“Y/N,” he said gently, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re brilliant, funny, kind—you’ve got this light that draws people in. Don’t let him dim that light. Don’t let him make you think you’re less than you are.”

“But he’ll never let me go, Franco,” she sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “He’ll find a way to keep me under his thumb. And I… I don’t know how to fight him.”

Franco’s protective instincts kicked into overdrive. He placed his hands firmly on her knees, looking her directly in the eyes.

“You don’t have to fight him alone,” he said fiercely. “You’ve got me. And I’ll fight him, Y/N. I’ll fight anyone who tries to hurt you, who tries to take you away from the person you’re meant to be.”

“But how?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Franco’s eyes darkened with determination. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever it takes, we’ll get you out of this. You’re not marrying him, you’re not staying with him—you’re not going to lose yourself because of some controlling prick who doesn’t deserve you.”

Y/N broke down completely, sobs wracking her body as Franco pulled her into his arms. She clung to him like a lifeline, her tears soaking his shirt.

“I’m scared,” she admitted through her tears.

“I know,” Franco murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he held her tighter. “But I’m here. You’re not alone, Y/N. You’ll never be alone as long as I’m around.”

And in that moment, Franco vowed to do whatever it took to protect her—even if it meant going toe-to-toe with Marcus himself.

---

Franco sat in the back corner of a quiet café, nursing a cup of coffee he didn’t care to drink. Across the table sat Fernando Alonso, Carlos Sainz, and Max Verstappen—three of Y/N’s closest confidants, all equally concerned about the situation she was trapped in.

“This guy sounds like a parasite,” Carlos muttered, leaning back in his chair with a scowl. “He’s feeding off her, controlling her life. It makes me sick.”

“Controlling isn’t even the right word,” Franco added, his voice sharp. “He’s obsessed with her. She’s terrified to even think about leaving him because of what he might do.”

Fernando leaned forward, his expression dark and calculated. “If he’s that obsessed, just walking away won’t work. He’ll follow her, pressure her, maybe even blackmail her. We have to remove him from the equation completely.”

Max raised an eyebrow, swirling his coffee absentmindedly. “What are you suggesting? Breaking his legs?”

“I wish,” Franco growled. “But we need something smarter. Something that gets rid of him without putting her in the middle of it.”

Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Does he have any weaknesses? Anything we can use against him?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Franco said, pulling out his phone. “Y/N mentioned that Marcus has been pushing for marriage because he thinks it’ll lock her down. If we can prove he’s not as perfect as he pretends to be, maybe we can destroy his image. The guy’s got to have skeletons in his closet.”

“Everyone does,” Fernando said, his voice cool and composed. “We just have to dig deep enough to find them.”

Max smirked. “Lucky for you, I know a guy who’s great at digging. He’s done some work for me before—discreet and efficient.”

Fernando raised an eyebrow. “You’ve had people investigated before?”

“Sometimes it’s useful,” Max said with a shrug. “Let me make a call. If Marcus has anything to hide, we’ll know soon enough.”

While Max stepped away to make the call, Carlos leaned toward Franco. “What about Y/N? Does she know we’re planning this?”

Franco shook his head. “She’s already scared out of her mind. I don’t want her worrying about this too. I’ll tell her once we have a solid plan.”

Carlos nodded, his jaw tightening. “Good. She doesn’t need any more stress right now. But Franco… if this guy doesn’t back off, I won’t sit back and play nice.”

“Neither will I,” Fernando added, his voice like steel. “But we’ll try it the clean way first. For Y/N’s sake.”

Max returned, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “My guy’s on it. Give him a couple of days, and we’ll have everything we need on Marcus.”

A heavy silence fell over the table, the weight of their plan sinking in.

“You think this will work?” Franco asked, his voice quieter now.

“It has to,” Fernando said firmly. “If it doesn’t, we’ll come up with something else. But we won’t let her stay trapped. Not while we’re here.”

Max smirked, though his tone was serious. “Don’t worry, mate. He’ll wish he’d never met Y/N by the time we’re done with him.”

Franco leaned back, exhaling slowly. “Thank you, guys. Seriously. I couldn’t do this alone.”

Carlos clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re all in this for her. And when she’s free of him, she’ll finally see what an idiot she’s been for not choosing you sooner.”

Franco blinked at Carlos, heat rising to his cheeks. “This isn’t about me.”

“No,” Fernando said, smirking faintly for the first time. “But it’s obvious how much you love her. She’s lucky to have you, Franco.”

Franco swallowed hard, determination flashing in his eyes. “She’s the one who deserves better. And I’ll make sure she gets it.”

The four of them exchanged grim nods, their shared goal uniting them. Marcus had no idea what was coming for him.

---

It was late in the evening when Franco received the call from Max’s contact. Standing in his apartment, he listened intently, his knuckles white as he gripped his phone.

“Are you sure about this?” Franco asked, pacing the floor.

“Positive,” the voice on the other end said. “Marcus has a history. Fraud, manipulation, even harassment complaints from two previous partners. It’s all there, buried deep, but enough to destroy him if it gets out.”

Franco’s jaw clenched. “Send me everything. Now.”

As soon as the call ended, Franco stared at the incoming files on his laptop. Each piece of evidence felt like a punch to the gut—not for Marcus’s sins, but for the fact that Y/N had been stuck with him, blind to the extent of his darkness.

He called Fernando, Carlos, and Max to his apartment. Within an hour, they were all seated around his laptop, reviewing the damning evidence.

“This guy is a predator,” Carlos said, his voice seething. “How did Y/N get caught up with him?”

“She didn’t know,” Franco said, running a hand through his hair. “She’s too kind, too trusting. He preyed on that.”

Fernando leaned back in his chair, his expression cold. “This is enough to get him out of her life. Publicly exposing him would ruin him. He’d be too busy cleaning up his mess to focus on her.”

Max tapped a finger on the table. “But we need to be smart about this. If Marcus suspects Y/N’s involved, he might retaliate. We have to keep her out of it entirely.”

Franco nodded. “Agreed. So, we leak this anonymously. Make sure it hits hard, fast, and far enough that he can’t trace it back to her.”

Carlos glanced at Franco. “How’s she holding up?”

“Barely,” Franco admitted, his voice low. “She’s trying to put on a brave face, but I can tell she’s breaking inside. She doesn’t even know about this yet.”

Max crossed his arms. “She won’t have to. We handle this, she stays safe, and Marcus is gone. End of story.”

Fernando, ever the strategist, stood. “I’ll make a few calls. I know someone who can ensure this hits the right places—media outlets, law enforcement, even his employers if he has any. Marcus won’t have time to even think about Y/N once this explodes.”

“Do it,” Franco said firmly. “I don’t care what it takes, just make sure it’s over.”

The plan was in motion, but Franco couldn’t shake the tightness in his chest. He’d seen Y/N earlier that day, and the haunted look in her eyes was etched into his memory. She didn’t deserve any of this.

When the others left to put the plan into action, Franco sat alone, staring at his phone. His thumb hovered over Y/N’s contact. He wanted to call her, to tell her it would all be okay soon. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him—not yet.

Instead, he texted her:

Franco: I’m here if you need me. Always.

Her response came almost immediately:

Y/N: I know. Thank you.

Franco set his phone down, his determination solidifying. By this time tomorrow, Marcus would be nothing more than a bad memory. And Y/N would finally be free.

---

Y/N sat in Franco’s apartment, curled up on his couch with a mug of tea clutched in her hands. She hadn’t said much since arriving that morning, her anxiety bubbling over as Marcus’s world began to collapse. The plan was in motion, but the waiting was unbearable.

The knock on the door made her flinch, and Franco immediately went to answer it. Carlos stepped inside, his face grim, but the small glint in his eyes told Franco what he needed to know.

“It’s done,” Carlos said simply.

“What?” Y/N’s voice wavered, her head snapping up.

Carlos crossed the room, sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. “Marcus has been arrested. They found enough evidence to charge him with fraud and harassment, and with the media leak, his reputation is in shreds. He’s not getting near you again.”

Y/N’s mug slipped from her hands onto the table, her hands flying to her mouth. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over as the weight of his words settled in. “He’s… he’s really gone?”

Franco sat beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “He’s gone, Y/N. For good.”

She broke into sobs, burying her face in her hands. Relief poured out of her in waves, shaking her frame as the months of fear and anxiety began to melt away. Franco held her, his hand running soothingly up and down her back.

Over the Next Few Weeks

Y/N took slow but steady steps toward reclaiming her life. Franco was with her every step of the way—helping her rebuild her confidence, reminding her of who she was before Marcus had taken over her life.

One evening, as they sat on a park bench eating ice cream, Y/N laughed for the first time in what felt like forever. It was a small laugh, but it was real, and Franco couldn’t take his eyes off her.

“You’re staring,” she teased, her voice lighter than it had been in weeks.

He grinned, his heart flipping at the sight of her smile. “Can you blame me? I’ve missed that laugh.”

She looked down, swirling her ice cream with the spoon. “I’ve missed it too. I didn’t even realize how much I’d lost until… until now.”

Franco nudged her playfully. “Well, it’s coming back. Little by little. And I’m here to make sure it doesn’t go anywhere this time.”

Y/N tilted her head to look at him, her gaze soft. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Franco. You’ve been my rock through all of this.”

A Month Later

“Close your eyes,” Franco said one evening, leading Y/N by the hand into his living room.

“Franco, what are you up to?” she asked, her tone suspicious but amused.

“Trust me,” he said with a grin.

When she opened her eyes, the room was lit with fairy lights, and her favorite snacks and a cozy blanket were laid out on the couch. A projector screen displayed her favorite childhood movie.

“Movie night?” she asked, her voice catching slightly.

“Not just any movie night,” Franco said, gesturing grandly. “The start of the new, sparkly, unstoppable Y/N era. Consider this a celebration of you being… well, you.”

Tears pricked at her eyes as she hugged him tightly. “You’re too good to me, Franco.”

He hugged her back, his chest tightening. You deserve the world, he thought, but didn’t say it. Instead, he said, “It’s what you deserve.”

Weeks Turn to Months

Y/N began finding joy in the little things again—taking walks, experimenting with new hobbies, even joining Franco at karting tracks where he indulged her playful trash talk about his skills.

One afternoon, as she beat him in a casual race, she threw her arms in the air triumphantly. “Told you I’d wipe the floor with you, Colapinto!”

Franco laughed, pulling off his helmet. “Alright, alright, you win. But don’t forget who’s the professional here.”

She winked. “Professional loser today.”

He watched her, his heart swelling with pride and adoration. She was glowing again, her spark fully returned. And every day, he found himself falling deeper in love.

But he kept those feelings locked away—for now. Because seeing her happy was all that mattered.

For now.

---

Franco stood nervously in the middle of the clearing, the moonlight filtering through the tall trees. Their childhood spot had transformed—fairy lights twinkled between the branches, and soft candles lined the pathway leading to the small wooden bench they had carved their initials into as kids. He had spent hours making it perfect. Tonight, he would tell Y/N everything.

He heard her soft footsteps before he saw her. Turning, he saw Y/N step into the clearing, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Franco…” she breathed, her hand flying to her mouth. “What is all this?”

He smiled, though his heart was racing. “A walk down memory lane. Do you remember when we used to come here every summer? When the world felt simple and small?”

She nodded, tears already forming in her eyes as she took in the glowing lights and the warmth of the scene. “I… I can’t believe you did this. It’s beautiful.”

Franco held out his hand, and she took it, letting him guide her to the bench. They sat side by side, the soft glow of the lights illuminating her face.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been thinking about this moment for a long time. Months, actually. Maybe years, if I’m honest.”

She tilted her head, her brows furrowing. “What moment?”

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto hers. “The moment I stop pretending that I’m just your best friend. That I don’t feel everything for you, every single day. The moment I tell you the truth.”

Her lips parted, her breath hitching, but she said nothing, her eyes searching his.

“You’ve been through so much,” Franco continued, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve watched you lose yourself and then fight to get your light back. And every step of the way, I’ve loved you. Not just as my best friend, but as the person who makes my life brighter just by being in it.”

Y/N blinked rapidly, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Franco…”

“I love how you challenge me, how you make me laugh, how you see the good in everyone—even when they don’t deserve it. And I hate that I waited this long to tell you, but I couldn’t stand the thought of losing you. Of scaring you away.”

Her hand covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling as his words washed over her.

“You’re my everything,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “And I want to be the person who makes you feel safe, and loved, and free. Forever. If you’ll let me.”

For a moment, silence hung in the air, broken only by the sound of the wind rustling through the trees.

Then Y/N let out a shaky laugh, wiping her tears. “You idiot,” she said softly. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I just thought you’d never see me that way.”

Franco’s breath caught. “Wait… what?”

She nodded, laughing through her tears. “You were always the one, Franco. I was just too scared to ruin what we had.”

He let out a breath of disbelief before pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly. “You could never ruin anything, Y/N. Not with me.”

As they pulled back, she cupped his face, her eyes shining. “You’re my everything too, Franco. And I’m so glad you didn’t wait any longer.”

He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers. “So, does that mean you’ll go out with me? Officially?”

She laughed, nodding. “Yes, you idiot. A thousand times yes.”

Under the glow of the lights, Franco kissed her—soft and slow, pouring years of love and longing into that single moment. And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.

[motthe]

Hey! May i request a mean, cold caitlyn x undercity fem!reader, angst, set in the current season where caitlyn obviously goes crazy and basically the reader confronts caitlyn abt only being used as a mean for caitlyn to blow off steam and a distraction for caitlyn to forget abt vi, and maybe the reader also confesses her feelings despite finding it wrong due to caitlyn's actions against zaun, and caitlyn is basically like, too bad so sad i'm not changing for you lmfao

i hope this is angst enough!!! first time writing caitlyn so she might be a bit ooc. apologies!!!

warnings: implied sexual content, emotional abuse, toxic behaviors, and slight spoilers for season 2 arc 2!!!

You were used to being second best.

Vi always won in the old arcade, in a fight. But you both lost the night of the explosion.

Sometimes you wished you hadn’t survived, waking up alone and forgotten with a shattered arm and a broken family. Ekko found you lumbering around the lanes and through the years you both watched Powder’s descent into Jinx.

When Vi showed up asking questions with Pilty, you disregard Ekko’s orders to shadow. You had nothing else to lose.

Caitlyn made the most sense. Her plan gave you hope.

Shit hit the fan as it always did, though. You didn't miss the looks she gave Vi and you knew from the start there was never going to be something between you two.

She kept giving though. You accept being an enforcer—you’re tired of the Lanes, of fighting for good people who just end up dying. Here you could make a real difference for Zaun. Caitlyn listened and even with her hatred of Jinx, she didn’t wish bad upon the Undercity. You knew that.

She was grieving. It made her colder, more distant. Vi fought that.

And suddenly, she’s gone. That seat she took between you and Caitlyn was empty, and Caitlyn filled it. She listened to you more than ever. You told her how you understand what she’s going through because you do. You lost your family a long time ago.

Even with that voice screaming in the back of your head to get a grip, you let her pull you into her place after a late night planning. You let her pull you into her bed.

You were fucked the moment she landed a punch when you met her. You didn’t blame her—you had light feet.

But she stopped listening. That cruelty you understood, masked under grief, it started settling in. She didn’t want to talk before she grabbed your hand, didn’t ask before shoving you into her mattress.

And still, you went willingly.

“You can talk to me,” you whispered.

Caitlyn paused as she was throwing her shirt on. When you went back to your place, she never stayed.

“What?” she breathed.

“You’ve gotten…distant. We don’t talk like we used to, we just…” You ran a hand over your rumpled sheets. “You can talk to me, y’know?”

She shrugged, resuming dressing. “I have nothing to say.”

“Cait—”

“Why can’t you just accept this?” she sighed, shoulders tensing as she forced her feet into her boots. “Things are fine. We have a good time, we get work done.”

“Is that all you want?” Something shook in your chest. “Just a good time?”

She looked at you then, eyebrow raised. “Yes. What did you think?”

You were silent. It said more than you could.

“Did you think this was serious?” she asked, tone cold. “We talked about how much we both hated Vi—you said I should let off some steam.”

“I also said a lot of other things,” you reminded her.

“What? How you thought I was the most beautiful thing when you first saw me?” she scoffed, pushing off the bed.

Your chest caved in.

“I thought you knew what this was,” she muttered. “I don’t need a repeat.”

“I just wanted to help,” you whispered, words shaking. “I-I really like you, Cait.”

“And I loved Vi!” she yelled, whirling around. “I thought you wanted this! I thought this was about doing what we needed to get it out of our systems so we could focus on actual important things!”

“So I’m not important?” you sniffed, unable to hold back the tears. “None of this meant anything to you?”

“No,” she huffed, shaking her head, “you were a distraction. You were always just a distraction. Now I feel like a fool, messing around when I should’ve been focusing on work. Would’ve saved me this mess.”

“Caitlyn,” you sobbed.

“Take a few days,” she muttered, grabbing the rest of her things as she opened the door. “If you still want to be an enforcer, you need to get your shit together before you come back to work.”

The door slammed. Something fell off the wall and shattered but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

When you returned to work, Officer Nolan was sitting in your seat, speaking with Caitlyn about plans. A few days later, you watch them leave the building together, Nolan grabbing Caitlyn’s hand and laughing as she pulled her around the corner.

You were used to being second best.

But now you weren’t even second.

You were never a part of the game to begin with.

[solxamber]

First, I would like to say I love your writing! Especially your Trash Villain Chronicles. Thanks to your first one I've been on a Vil kick. I double-checked the rules before typing so hopeful I'm following them. Okay, here goes:

Vil with a partner who's a bit on the heavier side and insecure about it, especially compared to her model boyfriend. Vil finds out about it and quickly reassures her that she is perfect the way she is, and if she's still insecure, he'll help her with whatever she wants to do. Whether it's losing weight or changing her style, anything to make her feel good about herself. Just Vil helping his love feel as beautiful as he thinks she is

I personally see this with a female reader (Hence why I used she/her) but if you do decide you wanna take a crack at this and use a GN reader, then by all means. If you don't wanna do this request, then feel free to ignore it. Just wanted to try. I hope you have a nice day!

Just the Way You Are || Vil Schoenheit

Vil shows you that you’re perfect as you are, helping you embrace your beauty inside and out.

first of all: thank you so much <3. and thank you for waiting! i made it gn to be more inclusive, and i hope this is what you wanted!

Vil has always found a certain allure in the way you carry yourself—something genuine and warm that shines in a way he rarely sees. But over time, he's noticed the small, telling moments of hesitation.

The way you shy away from reflective surfaces, your reluctance to stand too close to him in photos, the subtle way you pull at your clothes.

He understands insecurity well, but it pains him to see that you’re judging yourself so harshly, especially when he thinks you're so beautiful just as you are.

One day, while sharing lunch, he notices you pushing food around your plate rather than eating. He sets his fork down and gives you a look, his eyes gentle yet discerning. "Darling, are you really going to keep that on the edge of your plate?"

You give a half-hearted smile. "I…just don't want to overdo it," you say, hoping that sounds convincing.

Vil nods thoughtfully, already understanding. He reaches out, covering your hand with his. "If you're feeling uncomfortable about what you eat, would you let me help? Not because I think you need to change, but because I want you to feel at home in your own skin."

You agree, albeit a bit hesitantly, and he instantly takes charge in the way that only Vil can. Crowley’s meager budget often mean you have to settle for low-cost, processed foods, and Vil isn’t about to let that slide.

Over the next week, he starts bringing meals prepared just for you, full of fresh ingredients he’s carefully chosen and even sourced himself.

One afternoon, he surprises you with a gorgeous spread for lunch. It’s a rainbow of fruits, vegetables, whole grains, and lean proteins, arranged as beautifully as any of his fashion editorials.

"Proper food is like proper skincare," he explains as he plates your meal with a flourish. "Only the best for you."

You find yourself looking forward to meals more than you ever thought you would. He teaches you little tricks, too—how to pick satisfying ingredients on a budget, small ways to prepare them to bring out their natural flavors.

Every meal feels like an act of love, a reminder that someone thinks you're worth the care you didn’t always give yourself.

After a couple of weeks, you feel the difference—not just in your energy but in your confidence. Vil notices this too, smiling proudly every time you finish your meals, delighted with the way you’re nourishing yourself.

He never pushes; he’s simply there to support you every step of the way, showing you that your health and happiness matter to him more than anything.

One evening, Vil finds you sighing at your reflection in the mirror, scrutinizing every detail of your outfit. You’re wearing a simple outfit, but you can't help but feel that it doesn't quite fit the way you’d like, especially next to someone as effortlessly poised as Vil.

Sensing your discomfort, Vil walks up beside you and slips an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re beautiful as you are,” he murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “But if you don’t feel it, then let's change that. Why don’t we make a day of it and find you some outfits that help you feel as beautiful as you look to me?”

The next day, Vil takes you shopping, his eye for detail guiding every choice. He’s quick to dismiss outfits that don’t fit right, brushing off any hints of self-consciousness by focusing on each piece’s color, fabric, and shape as though they’re variables in an equation only he understands.

“Fit is everything,” he tells you, holding up a jacket. “It’s about finding clothes that celebrate who you are, not cover it up.”

His enthusiasm is contagious, and as you try on different outfits, you start to see yourself in a new light. Vil’s commentary—sometimes playful, sometimes serious—always steers you toward the right choices, outfits that make you feel vibrant and confident.

At one point, he finds a tailored coat with intricate details on the sleeves, something understated yet regal. “This,” he declares, draping it over your shoulders.

You glance at yourself, surprised at how the cut flatters you, and for the first time, you feel like your outside finally matches the confidence you’re building on the inside.

By the time you leave the store, you’re carrying a few new pieces that you actually feel excited to wear, and Vil’s heart swells every time he sees you trying them out.

His pride in you is palpable, his compliments genuine and warm. "It’s all about loving who you are,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “And it’s a privilege to see you start doing just that.”

One night, as the two of you sit together on the dorm balcony, Vil looks at you with such intensity that it catches you off guard. "I hope you’re beginning to see how wonderful you are," he says softly, his hand holding yours. "Not because of anything you’ve done to change, but because you’re worth it. You always were."

You smile, feeling a rush of warmth flood through you as you squeeze his hand back. And as you lean against him, content, you finally start to believe that, maybe, Vil is right.

Masterlist

[pickingupmymercedes]

hiiii for the 500 blurbs, can you do one where fans notices how lewis no longer hold his phone whenever he walks into the paddock now? like he used to do that all the time, but not after marrying reader? he's ALWAYS holding her hand or her waist. im not sure which dialogues to pick btw im soo sorry 😭😭😭

I loveeeee writing interviews type of stories, I think they're so fun to plan out. Hope you like it love.

"Find someone to hold your hand through the chaos"

Will Buxton leaned forward with a smile on his chair. "Alright Lewis, we've covered your incredible career, your thoughts on the upcoming season, and even a few technical details from the past cars. Now, it's time for something a little lighter. We've received quite a few questions from our fans, and one seems to be a common theme."

Lewis chuckled, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Right…"

The reporter held up a tablet, scrolling through the screen. "Many fans have noticed a… shift in how you enter the paddock lately. Gone are the days of clutching your phone as you navigate the photographers. Now, you seem to be… well, holding someone’s hand."

Lewis's smile widened, a playful glint in his eyes as he nodded. "Yape"

"So" Buxton confirmed, chuckling to himself. "What’s the story?"

Lewis's smile softened, his gaze drifting away from the interview for a brief moment before returning to him. "There’s no breaking story, really." he admitted. "It’s a natural progression I guess."

He paused, searching for the right words "The phone," he continued, "it was a way to tune out the noise, the cameras, the scrutiny even. But now with Y/N…" he paused, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, "In that sea of faces and flashes, her presence is a constant, a reminder of what truly matters."

Will's smile was understanding. "So, it’s not only about keeping her safe, but also about keeping you grounded?"

"Something like that" Lewis said, nodding firmly. "I mean, I love the environment, the rush of a race weekend, but it’s often a lot to take in. And, of course, her safety was my main concern at first, but now, it's also about having that balance, that someone that reminds you there's a whole world outside of this bubble we’re all in."

Will pressed on, curious to know more about the couple the world knew little about "Would you say walking those spaces with someone by your side also sends a message?"

Lewis arched an eyebrow, shaking his head. "Of course, it does" he conceded, a nod to the question the reporter actually wanted answered – is walking hand in hand a sign he’s finally taken.  

"But trust me, keeping Y/N safe and feeling centered are the main reasons." He completed after a few minutes of hesitation from Will, almost as if he was waiting for Lewis to say something else.

Will chuckled, a hint of disappointment in his voice. Lewis was a known master at deflecting personal questions while still giving just enough to keep people interested. "Alright, alright," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. "We'll leave it at that then. But Lewis, before we wrap up, any advice for young drivers out there who might be dealing with the overwhelming pressure of the sport?"

Lewis's smile returned, genuine and warm. "Of course! Well, it's not just about the race. It's about the journey. Find your passion, surround yourself with people who support you, and never lose sight of why you started. And maybe," he added with a glint in his eyes "find someone to hold your hand through the chaos."

______________________________________________________________

TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf @priopp123 @jajouska

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[edgeray]

Ray! 🍅 anon here, I said I wasn't going to request but there's one idea I've been really, REALLY itching at.

So you know how you reblogged "cold nights" by beiibeii? Yeah about that... I think I cooked an angst idea of this on a related tangent? (If you choose to write this, ofc)

How about Mother!Reader who is faced with the same scenario of Arle neglecting them to the point that she loses hope in their relationship? Think of the angst when the children constantly remind their Father of important dates but she's away or somehow missing most of them because of work. To the point reader just implies for them to stop trying and accepts the fact that they married Arlecchino but is now simply the Knave's wife? Like even the children can see them losing hope which is why they sometimes lowkey plead with their Father to actually pay more attention to Mother. Mother marrying Father means that Mother is strong but behind their strong facade you can see their sadness! You can feel their loneliness! And their sense of isolation and sorrowful acceptance of their new reality. And Arle does not pick up on the subtle signs until it's Too Late. Like. Reader in the coffin Late.

And as the Knave's wife Reader does need to undertake missions like in "I am Fine in Your Arms" but because reader has lost so much hope in living a wife outside of being the Knave's wife, reader does not make an effort to return alive. The angst of the burial, maybe the children blaming their Father etc. The really young ones aside, I don't think they would be actively angry with their Father, just very, VERY, disappointed. HotH would lose its warmth for a while before Lyney, Lynette and Freminet try their best to build it back (but of course, it never becomes as warm as it used to be)

Whether or not you choose to give this one a happy ending is up to you, but on my end the only happy ending that I cooked up for them is that Arle wakes up in the next Samsara with all these memories of losing Reader and prevents the relationship from going South in the first place. (Bonus points if Reader also has the memories and compares it to how they were treated by Arle previously, makes a comparison, and goes "How I wish this were my Arle" without knowing that it actually IS their Arle, just acknowledging she fucked up BIG time and is now making heavy amends for it. and Arle Knows because of that look that Reader gives her, sorrow and joy in a complex blend.)

...I think by now you can tell that I'm an angst writer too HAHSHHSHA Nobody leaves my fics without getting a knife and I promise it's just for the plot (like we always say).

I've still been keeping up with your writings (Beauty and The Beast actually fits, holy-) (Someone send Siren!Arle a whole farmhouse of ham for her consumption please) and yes I agree that you've been pumping out bangers after bangers. (I mean. Given that, you probably can afford to be a little indulgent? If writing this much quality about your muse doesn't give you the OK to put your hands all over them, abs and all, what does?)

As always, prioritise your sanity and schedule first, stay well rested and hydrated!

Lost Warmth

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N -  Link to my momma's (@beiibeiii) piece right here. If I see you read this before reading the masterpiece I just linked, know that I am a very disappointed axolotl. 😔  Anyways, you might be able to tell just how long this has been sitting in my inbox… haha… my bad guys. T^T. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to write more angst. :3 And thank you for the additional comments 🍅 anon. I do have quite a soft spot for siren! arle, seeing that she was my first request (and requested from my momma :3). Wanted this to be a little longer, but I do have to wake up earlier tomorrow, so this is what you get T^T. Hopefully it's still good. Content warnings / info - angst, character death (duh), reader is referred to as ‘Mother’ but is otherwise GN!, 1.4k words

Cold is a feeling you've long gotten used to. Cold is your husband's dismissal of your existence, with every interaction ending with her blunt words and back towards you, leaving you with a crumbling heart. Cold are the long nights as you anxiously wait for Arlecchino's appearance for a candlelit dinner you spent half the day preparing, only for her never to return until you fell to exhaustion on the couch, a flower bouquet that remains unreceived in your hands. Cold is the creeping loneliness in the late hours of the night, when you've finally grown tired of anticipating someone that will never come, and returned to bed alone. Cold is the way you shiver underneath the thickest of blankets, no one's body warmth to sink into, no one's softly whispered words into your ear to drift you to sleep. Cold is when instead of your husband, only dim stars, a bottle of liquor, and the tears that stream your face join you in bed.

When was the last time you had felt warmth? 

You recall when the Knave first started courting you, how gentlemanly she was for such a rumored cruel Harbinger. You were first just a caretaker of the House of the Hearth, this small orphanage which you quickly found to be home for you. You couldn't help but adore the endearing children, watching as you slowly became a staple in this family. Despite your best efforts of hiding it, Arlecchino noticed when you snuck in the occasional pastry or cake from the town's most lavious bakery for the children, out of your own paycheck as well. It was then, your husband admitted, when she first fell for you. It had taken her months of encouragement from her ‘pestering’ children before she asked you out, and it was impossible to not fall for her charm.

How could you not? Not when she held you like you were her world. Not when she viewed you higher than the Tsaritsa herself. Not when her touch was heavenly, her words silky and sweet. When she proposed to you, your heart leapt with levity, and you thought your life was perfect now. A warm house, fitted with warm parents, that was what you had had, you had never felt so content. 

Then came the long nights. Nights when she trudged home later than usual, where she fell asleep without a word but sunk into your arms still. Then she started forgetting, forgetting about the dates and birthdays, and anniversaries more and more. At first, you chalked it up to her demanding Harbinger duties, but as time grew and the excuses started to run out, the perfect life you knew was crumbling. 

You became aware of this two years after your marriage when you had been preparing dinner for the two of you once she arrived home, slow cooking a steak since the early hours of the morning. Just as you exited the kitchen, you heard some children surrounding your husband before she left for another Harbinger meeting, telling her that you had a surprise for her once she came home and how excited you were for her to enjoy a new recipe you created. Your heart swelled with hope and appreciation for your children, especially when Arlecchino promised she would return in time. 

You should have known better.

You ate your tear-ridden steak alone and went to bed, leaving the steak out for her for whenever she returned home. Just like how you fell asleep, you woke up without your husband's presence, and when you arrived at the kitchen, the meat and the note besides the plate were untouched. 

You tried to eat the cold steak for lunch as well. You threw it away at the first bite. That day, you gathered your children, pleading them not to ‘pester’ Father with more reminders, as she was very busy. All that you gained back from the children was pitied expressions, and the agony in your chest worsened. Your children could pity you, but your husband couldn't? Even with your husband's coldness, you still carried out your Mother role, if only for the children. You cannot deny that the children's antics helped you forget the ever-present void inside you, caused by Arlecchino. 

You never learned the reason for Arlecchino's behavior, why she had grown so cold towards you. Now, you suppose, you would never know.  

Red fills your hazy vision as you lay on the ground, your entire body aching and fatigued, desperate gasps for air while your heart pounds in your eardrums. Your side was sliced, and the crimson liquid quickly poured out of the wound while you tried to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. 

This is your end, you think to yourself as you weakly turn on your side, every nerve in your body protesting against the movement. Your bloodied hand comes into view, your engagement and wedding ring gleaming slightly underneath the blood. The rings bring your thoughts to Arlecchino–oh, how you imagine the common disappointment in her otherwise apathetic expression, disappointment at your mission's failure. Your eyes bubbled and blurred with tears, vivid memories of your wedding flashing through your mind. The wedding ring is beautiful, still polished with that bold scarlet, the same color of her eyes, the same eyes you could never stop drowning in.

Would she even know your absence? Would she ever acknowledge you, treat you properly like her partner even if you did return? You doubt it. Did you want to return a cold bed, to a husband that does not love you, to a house no longer warm? 

It's warm. 

Your body feels like fire courses through your veins as you feel inexplicably hot, yet it's a welcomed heat. It's the first time you've felt this, but it feels familiar, comforting, like a hearth, and you want nothing more than to surrender to it. It soothes your heartbeat and calms your breath, easing your body as if you were to sink into the most plush of beds, swallowed by the thickest of blankets. The warmth coils around you, wrapping you like a cozy embrace, evoking you to sleep. Your eyes flutter shutter, a faint smile plastered on your lips.

It feels just like Peruere's arms. 

— 

Arlecchino receives a letter addressed to her on the third day you've been sent on a mission. The contents make her drop the paper, and she rushes outside, without an additional word, leaving the House. 

The children do not see her until she returns late into the night, a body wrapped in cloth in her arms. Arlecchino raised her children to be smart, to be attentive, to be logical. Whose body it is, they realize with little difficulty. 

The children weep that night. Arlecchino does not. How can she, when her source of emotions is gone? 

The burial takes place soon afterwards. As your body is placed into the ground, Arlecchino can feel the weight of her children's stare on her back. The charged tension between her and the children is palpable without words. She cannot discern which of the two reactions cut deeper. The seething fury underneath the oppressive grief for the young ones, having to lose another parent, or the crushing dismay inhabited by the older ones, specifically the twins and Freminet. 

Their thoughts are clear, even when none of them speak out loud. 

How could you fail Mother?

The House of the Hearth no longer suits the orphanage's name, not with your missing presence. There is no warmth, no matter how much the trio tries to fuel a lost flame. Even with Arlecchin's pyro vision, it is futile.

Arlecchino stands before your gravestone, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in her hand, and she rests it beside the other bouquets by your grave. Six bouquets in total, for each day after your burial. 

“For all the flowers, I should have given you, my love,” she whispers as she addresses you, glancing up to the heavens. The last two words make her feel like a fraud, undeserving of calling you hers, when she had clearly never shown so. 

Arlecchino, the Knave, the Fatui Harbinger, does not plead, does not beg, does not kneel. However, her knees drop to her dirt, and she grovels. “Please… wait for me one more time, my dear. Once I meet you again, I promise I'll never leave you alone, I'll never let you out of my arms again.”

There is no reply. 

Arlecchino feels cold.