#disinfectant gate

[feverish-dove]

Licked by Science

By rules of the playground licking something means you own it. So obviously you lick Senku. Senku Ishigami x Reader warnings: none word count: 1,534 cross posted on ao3

It started with a rock. A really shiny, really cool rock. You’d found it in the schoolyard during recess, glinting under the sun like a tiny captured star, and naturally, there was only one person who could properly appreciate such a treasure.

“Senku! Look what I found!” You ran up to him, shoving the rock into his hands like it was the most important thing in the world.

Senku barely looked up from his book before adjusting his grip on the stone, inspecting it with sharp, calculating eyes. “Hoh? Not bad. This is a piece of pyrite—fool’s gold.”

You gasped. “Gold?!”

“Fool’s gold,” he corrected, rolling his eyes. “It’s an iron sulfide mineral. It looks valuable, but it’s actually worthless.” He pointed over to the boxes the theater kids brought, “It probably just fell out of that.”

You blinked, then grinned. “So, it’s like the fake treasure in pirate movies?” Of course you didn’t listen.

“Exactly.” Senku smirked, obviously pleased you were keeping up with the scientific side of his observations. “It’s formed in hydrothermal veins when iron and sulfur combine under heat and pressure. You probably found it because of the mineral composition in the area—”

Before he could go off on a full-blown science lecture, you leaned forward and—

Licked.

His cheek.

Senku froze.

It gave you enough time to lick the rock. He didn’t even want to think about where it had been.

For a full three seconds, he was just a statue, his brain absolutely refusing to process what had just happened. His eye twitched. “…THE HELL WAS THAT?!”

“I licked you, so you’re mine now!” you declared proudly, hands on your hips. That’s how it worked, right? That’s what your older cousin told you about her puppy. She said dogs licked things to claim them. And Senku was your best friend, so naturally, licking him made it official!

Senku reeled back like you’d electrocuted him. “That is NOT how science OR ownership works, you primitive ape!!”

“Too late, I called it!” You crossed your arms, smirking. “Ishigami Senku is officially mine. No take-backs.”

He wiped his cheek aggressively, looking more scandalized than you’d ever seen him. “First of all, that’s completely unscientific. Second, that’s disgusting! Third—” He scrubbed his cheek harder. “WHY WOULD YOU LICK ME?!”

You giggled. “Because you’re mine, duh.”

Senku’s face burned bright red, and for the first time ever, he had no comeback. He just grumbled something under his breath, turned on his heel, and stomped away—probably to disinfect his face a hundred times.

You picked up your shiny rock and grinned.

It had been three hours since ‘The Incident.’

Senku had spent the remainder of recess scrubbing his cheek with the intensity of someone trying to remove radioactive contamination. He had also, to your mild amusement, been uncharacteristically quiet since then. No rambling about physics, no smug comments about how he was the smartest person on the playground. Just red ears, wide eyes, and the occasional distant stare into the void.

Not that you noticed.

The school bell rang, and as always, you waited outside the gate for Senku so you could walk home together. He was taking a suspiciously long time to emerge, and when he finally did, he kept two feet of distance between you, eyes darting anywhere but in your direction.

You tilted your head. “Hey, you okay? You’ve been weird all day.”

“I’m fine,” he said stiffly.

You blinked. Shrugged. And then—as always—grabbed his wrist and started dragging him home.

This was routine. Senku, being Senku, would get so lost in his thoughts that he’d walk directly into traffic if left unsupervised, so it had become your personal responsibility to make sure he actually got home in one piece. Usually, he just let you do it. Today, however—

The moment your fingers curled around his wrist, Senku jolted like you’d electrocuted him.

“W-WHAT NOW?!”

You glanced back at him, confused. “…What?”

“Y-You’re—” He clamped his mouth shut, face burning even redder. You’d never seen him so visibly malfunctioning.

You raised an eyebrow. “Senku, you’re always lost in your head when we walk home. Do you wanna end up in a ditch?”

That seemed to shake him out of it, because he scowled and grumbled, “Tch, fine, whatever,” before reluctantly letting you drag him along.

Again—not that you noticed his existential crisis.

By the time you reached Senku’s house, his entire mood had not recovered. His dad, Byakuya, was already home, leaning against the doorframe with a knowing smirk.

“Well, well,” Byakuya said, arms crossed. “You’re later than usual. Let me guess—Senku got caught up in another experiment?”

“Nope!” you chirped. “Senku’s just being weird.”

Byakuya blinked. “Oh?”

Senku visibly tensed. “I’m not being weird.”

You squinted at him. “You spent the whole walk home redder than a tomato.”

Byakuya’s eyes lit up. Oh, he was already having too much fun. “Wait a second… Did something happen today?”

Senku froze.

You, however, nodded enthusiastically. “Yup! I licked him.”

The pregnant silence that followed could have had her baby before one of you spoke.

Byakuya blinked very slowly. “You… licked him?”

Senku looked like he was praying for a spontaneous meteor impact.

“Yup!” You grinned. “Because I licked him, he’s mine now.”

Byakuya immediately lost it. His booming laughter echoed through the street while Senku visibly died inside.

“PFFT—AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Byakuya wheezed, clutching his stomach. “Oh man, I knew someone would get you one day, but this is beyond my expectations!”

Senku buried his face in his hands. “Kill me.”

“Nope, no can do, my boy,” Byakuya grinned, wiping a tear from his eye. “You’ve already been claimed.”

Senku made a noise like a dying cat.

Meanwhile, you just smiled, completely oblivious to your best friend’s utter suffering.

Senku was not flustered.

Flustered was an illogical state of mind. It served no scientific purpose. There was absolutely no reason why his brain kept replaying ‘The Incident’ over and over again like a glitched-out record player.

Unfortunately for him, Byakuya wasn’t letting it go.

The entire evening had been filled with teasing. Every time Senku walked into the room, Byakuya wiggled his eyebrows at him. When they sat down for dinner, Byakuya stuck his tongue out just to watch Senku choke on his rice.

It was absolute hell.

But eventually, time passed. Senku convinced himself that it was a one-time thing. A weird, impulsive moment that you’d already forgotten about.

…Until the next day.

It was recess again, and you were crouched on the pavement, examining another rock. Senku sat nearby, scribbling formulas in a notebook. Things had finally returned to normal.

And then—

“Hold still,” you said.

Before Senku could process those words, you leaned over and—

LICK.

Except this time, you weren’t licking him.

You were licking Taiju.

Senku’s entire body short-circuited.

“W-WHAT?!” Taiju yelped, nearly falling over.

“There,” you declared proudly. “You’re mine now.”

Taiju jumped back up. “FOR REAL?!” You were unphased by his demeanor, courtesy of knowing the guy since diapers. “I HAVE TO LICK YOU BACK TOO!”

Senku stared. His brain refused to compute.

He knew it was stupid, unscientific, completely irrational—but for some reason, something in his chest clenched.

He scowled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

You turned to him, tilting your head. Taiju’s mouth was obnoxiously close to your own pretty cheek. “What?”

“You—you already did that to me.” His voice came out more accusing than intended.

You blinked. “Yeah, but Taiju’s my friend too.” Said boy had some drool fall to the ground from how big his mouth was, still propped open in mid air. The big oaf.

Despite the warmth he normally felt for your antics today it was dulled. Senku felt something ugly twist in his stomach.

“Yeah, but you licked me first,” he muttered under his breath.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he snapped, crossing his arms.

Taiju, meanwhile, was still reeling. At least he had the decency to close his mouth.“Wait, so, uh… does this mean I belong to you now?”

You nodded firmly.

Senku’s eye twitched.

“No,” he blurted.

You and Taiju blinked at him. “No?”

“No.” Senku scowled, pointing at Taiju like he was an incorrect math equation. “That’s not how this works. You can’t just—just collect people.”

“…Why not?”

“Because,” Senku snapped, voice sharper than usual. “I thought you picked me.”

The words escaped before he could stop them.

Silence.

Taiju blinked. You blinked. Senku, realizing what he had just admitted, suddenly wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

You tilted your head. “Oh. You wanted to be special?”

“N-No, that’s not—” He stopped. Because that’s exactly what he had meant.

You grinned. “Okay.”

Senku frowned. “Okay, what?”

You leaned in—too close—and licked his cheek again.

Senku froze.

“There,” you said smugly. “You get double licks, so you’re extra mine.”

Taiju burst out laughing.

Senku made a noise like a dying computer. “I—that’s—” He stood up so fast he nearly knocked over his notebook. “THAT’S NOT—WHATEVER! I’M GOING HOME.”

And then, he fled.

Taiju wiped a tear from his eye. “Man, you really broke him, huh?”

You just grinned.

Best discovery ever.

[slightly-knot-insane]

Under Your Cold Fingertips

[ m!monster x fem!reader ]

a/n: bodyguard x protégée, fluff and smut, forbidden romance content: nsfw, oral (male and female receiving), p in v, pulling out

"I must rest here a moment, mistress."

The hollow sound of his voice under the helmet is very quiet. He's been walking next to your horse for a while, limping, but insisting he is fine. The snow gathered on his armor and his gray horns were decorated with little crystals.

"Of course!" You hastily unmount, sensing he is unwell.

His armor loudly clanks as he almost falls on the steps beneath the abandoned gate. You hear him breathe heavily and hot. As you look back the way you came, you see droplets of blood branding his every footstep.

"You are badly hurt!" you shout. "You fool, why didn't you tell me?"

He remains silent, his hot breath creating a fog around his head. Maybe you're imagining, but he looks like he's... shaking? Gods...

"Quickly, let's undress you," you order him and kneel in front of him.

"M-mistress..." his metal gauntlets clink as he jerks his arms upwards in shock. "What are you doing? You'll get dirty."

"Shut up," you retort. "I can wash my clothes and shoes. But I can't revive my most loyal bodyguard, can I?"

He doesn't say anything and let's you untie his boots. Meanwhile, he carefully releases buckles below his chin. He removes his helmet slowly but the metal still scrapes against his horns. He is a bit pale and has dark rings surround his eyes. If his sclera wasn't black, you're sure you would see how very bloodshot they are.

You suck air between your teeth. "Your bandages are soaked!" Trying not to harm him further, you carefully start unwrapping the bloodied material.

"Mistress, please! This is highly inappropriate."

You just shoot him a furious glance to shut him up. You barely know anything about wounds or treating them, but the gash is long and bleeding heavily. "This looks bad...", you utter.

"It's fine, I heal fast—" Without waiting him to finish, you quickly get all the necessary things and with his help clean his wound. He hisses as the disinfectant slides down his skin.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper while dabbing around his wound. "You don't deserve this."

A large calloused palm covers your fingers. He is surprisingly gentle. He... never touched you like this before. "Mistress, your hands are cold." Wrapped by his clawed fingers, he brings your hands closer to his mouth and blows onto them. Warm air as white as fog twirls around your heads.

"I—" You wanted to say something, something funny or friendly probably, maybe even witty, but your mind went blank. Or rather, every sensible thought got pushed back by that one idea.

You push yourself between his legs and kiss him. Too shocked to react, he keeps his mouth open like a fish until he grabs you by your shoulders and shakes you. "What are you doing? You can't... We..." He trails off looking at your lips. "We can't..."

"You're bleeding for me and I can't even kiss you?", you ask in an almost growling tone.

Still slightly shocked, he opens his mouth to speak, reconsiders and kisses you instead, tightly embracing you against his chest. And his hard and cold armor but you don't care. All you want are his warm lips and his tongue to shove itself down your throat. But not only that...

You slide down between his legs again, happy that doesn't have heavy plates on his lower body (even though that proved a wrong choice this morning). You quickly loosen his pants and push your hand inside. "This is wrong," he mutters over and over but does nothing to stop you taking his heavy and strange cock into your hands. You always wondered how it looks like. And tastes like.

You take it into your mouth, followed by his low and breathy fuck, and you hum around it as you use your tongue to explore every part of it. Listening to your guardian's moans makes you wet and your cunt clenches around nothing every time he jerks his hips up and thrusts into your mouth. You lick his phallus all over, sucking his tip and tracing his veins until he grabs your wrists and pulls you on him.

You stand above him, many layers of your dress stopping you to make the next step. You lift your skirts and chemise around your waist. "Forgive me," he says before he rips your undergarments and reaches your pussy. He leans forward and slides his tongue along your folds, his nose digging into your bush and soft tissue. He is growling like a hungry animal, devouring your nectar and you tremble above him, panting and gasping as his tongue finds all your secrets.

He pulls you down, onto his lap and you drop all your skirts onto you two. They hide everything that happens between you two and keep you warm at the same time.

There is a strange expression on his face. "Mistress..."

You kiss him before he says something stupid, and guide his cock inside you. Slight pang of pain causes you discomfort, but you can't help but roll your hips looking for pleasure. His arms are under your chemise and his claws dig into your hips. You moan into each others mouths, your breaths and bodies pushing the cold away. You ride his cock and with his help you feel the pulses of your peak building up.

"I'm close", you sob into his neck and he grabs your ass so that he could lift you and fuck you from below. You breath hitches from the force of his dick digging into your cunt and you quickly come undone. He kisses you, savoring your delight, and slides into your pussy slowly but deliberately, prolonging your orgasm as much as he can. He then pulls you onto his chest and positions himself so that he can push his whole cock into you easily. In and out, in and out, faster and faster.

Some outsider wouldn't see a thing happening hidden under those long and dirty skirts. But you could feel the tension of his muscles and his cock swelling inside you. He suddenly pulls out by lifting you like a child's toy and, with a long groan, he cums all over your thighs.

"I wish I saw your cock twitching and spilling," you say while you lay against his breastplate.

Still breathless, he chuckles, but also groans in discomfort. You finally remember. "Your leg!" You jump off his lap and see his leg bleeding again. "You fool! Why did you put me on your lap."

Completely ignoring your scolding, he pulls you down again and you sit like before, your naked cunt against his groin. "Because I don't care about that pain. I dreamed about this for a long time."

"You dreamed about fucking me outside in the cold?", you jab.

He chuckles. "Not exactly in the cold." He kisses your neck and jaw. "But outside, and inside, and in your bed, and in my bed, and against a wall, and on the table, and on the floor, and against a tree..."

As he names all the places he imagined, your pussy throbs against his muscles. "All that sounds lovely. But let's get your leg fixed first before you bleed to death."

He places his forehead against yours. "At least I would bleed for the most amazing woman in the world."

You hit him in the chest, blush overtaking your cheeks. "Shut up, you... fool."

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[1:47 pm]

(cw: f!reader)

tagged! @bluedbliss

Fratboy!Jaemin did a lot of things in university just for the fun of it. Massage class? Sure, why not. Gymnastics? Again, why not. Join a frat? Only because Jeno did. Working at the on campus daycare? Well, that one was because of his mom. He needed a job and she happened to know the head teacher.

So now he spent three of his days here at the daycare, taking care of the young kids with the help of one main teacher and another aide, you. The kids had named you "Pretty Teacher" and he couldn't agree more. You were a full time aide and he found that he could handle some clingy kids and no sense of personal space for a few hours a day when you were helping out beside him.

Right now, you were both leading the kids through circle time outside while the head teacher took a quick break. After some stretches and some calming exercises for the kids, they focused on building with some blocks.

One of the girls, looked up at you, judgement written clearly on her face as she looked between you and Jaemin. Her little voice rang out, "Pretty teacher, is Teacher Na your boyfriend?"

The other kids looked up then, "oohing" at the word "boyfriend." You shook your head with a soft laugh, prying apart two blocks before handing them to the boy sitting beside you, "no, Teacher Na is not my boyfriend."

The kids pouted and even Jaemin found himself fighting back a pout along with the four and five year-olds. He wanted you to be his girlfriend. He thought he'd made that pretty clear when he insisted that he play the role of 'dad neighbor' when you were given the role of 'mom neighbor' or when he brought you snacks or coffee at the before the kids showed up.

Another girl, this time sitting beside Jaemin, squealed with excitement, "he's your husband then! You're married!"

Jaemin coughed awkwardly, "we're not married."

"But you like her?" The girl asks as she cocks her head to the side.

"Yes," Jaemin answers, immediately drawing sounds of excitement from the kids. He even finds that your eyes flicker to meet his gaze before he adds quickly, "because she's my friend."

"My mommy said her and my daddy were friends before they got married!" A boy adds, "my daddy was my mommy's sister's boyfriend! That's why they don't talk no more!"

You bite back a look of shock as you try to guide the conversation away from marriage and parents, or any other topics these kids might have overheard at home. They're stubborn though, insisting that the two of you get married because that's what adult boys and girls do, "duh, teachers!"

You're given a bundle of flower weeds and pushed until you and Jaemin are sitting side by side on the bench. The oldest of the bunch, a five year-old, grins widely and begins the 'vows' going on about love and happiness. She claps her hands, "now you're married! Kiss!"

The kids sound out in a mix of cheers and boos. You laugh softly, choosing instead to hug your coworker swiftly to give into the requests of the students. It's basically nothing, you can barely call it a hug since it's more like two bodies just pressed against each other for a second. Jaemin thinks he just saw heaven. It's the best hug he's ever had and it lasted a full, singular second. It was great.

Somehow that's the only thing on his mind as he finishes off his work day. He grabs his stuff after everything has been wiped down and disinfected, lingering around the gate as you walk toward him.

"Hey, Pretty," he greets you, watching as you laugh softly.

"Hi, Nana, you waiting for me?" You ask as you close the gate behind yourself.

"A good husband waits for his wife doesn't he?" He asks with a gentle smile.

You giggle softly, knocking his elbow with your own, "oh, did we go straight from coworkers to husband and wife?"

He shrugs with an easy smile, "gotta start somewhere, right?"

You shrug, staying silent as you both walk across campus. He comes to a stop, drawing your attention, "actually, I did really want to ask you... do you want to go out some time?"

"Ooh, first date as husband and wife?" You laugh with a wiggle of your brows.

"We have to start somewhere don't we?" Jaemin asks as his smile turns nervous.

You turn to him and notice how he seems less confident, nervous as he waits for her to answer. You reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze, "a date sounds really nice."

"Perfect, I'll text you, Pretty."

[kissandtellus]

Warning, Bite Risk: Ch. 1

ೃ⁀➷ Synopsis: Caleb is a ‘retired’ K-9 Hybrid that is far from friendly. But if MC is anything, it’s stubborn. Can she earn his trust and help him heal from his trauma?

ೃ⁀➷ Warnings: Fluff this chapter, mentions of PTSD, Malinois!Hybrid Caleb.

Never in MC’s life did she think she would be visiting a Hybrid shelter.

She sighed and readjusted the box of supplies on her hip. “Tara, how long do we have to be here?”

The bubbly girl smiled innocently like she hadn’t dragged her co-worker all the way out to the far end of the city. “Oh an hour…or two…who knows!”

Tara didn’t know, obviously.

Tara was a natural with the Hybrids, especially those in the ‘Prey’ facility. Many of the Bunny Hybrids flocked to the woman, nuzzling her legs for some carrots and feed.

Floppy fluffy ears perked up when Tara wiggled the box of characters, enticing the Hybrids who had ended up in the shelter for one reason or another.

MC sat in the corner, throwing a carrot here and there to the Hybrids that acknowledged her existence.

Tara quickly ran out of carrots from her new Bunny friends and shot a big pout to her counterpart. “Can you go grab another box of carrots? Pretty pleaseee?” She pleaded.

MC didn’t know if the Bunny Hybrids had better pleading fazes, or Tara. MC sighed and dusted off her hands on her pants. “Fine. I’ll be right back.”

MC shut the door tightly behind her, hands stuffed in her pockets as she made her way back through the facility. As she turned the corner, she saw a hand written, urgent sign pinned to one of the doors.

“Danger, Bite Risk”

MC raised an eyebrow, her curiosity getting the best of her. She looked around the empty hall, no workers or witness’ in sight. She carefully opened the door, slipping inside and shutting it before anybody could see.

This room was so much quieter than the rest of the facility. There was a single, heavily gated cage in the back of the room. Usually many of the Hybrid rooms had strong scents, but this one smelled a little too clean, like disinfectant.

MC took her time, trying to stand on her tippy toes for a better look, but it honestly seemed like the cage was empty. When she finally got writhing a foot of the cage, her breath hitched in her throat.

A dog hybrid, possibly a Malinois by the perkily dark ears on his head, was tucked in the corner, back to the world. MC watched his body shiver, almost as if he was afraid. Her heart throbbed in her chest. He was wearing a thing white tank-top, loose pants slung low around his hips. His tail was tucked between his legs.

MC, takes a quick breath, one that the Hybrid catches on quick too. He startles, eyes wide in fear as his ears flatten to his head. He bares his teeth, lips pulled back in a snarl.

He presses himself backward, growling lowly. He lets out a low, guttural snarl. There’s a light in his eyes that could be called feral.

She immediately jumps back, eyes going wide.

He’s terrifying.

‘There’s a reason he’s marked as a bite risk, idiot’ MC chastises herself

His growl continues, and he presses himself further back, as if hoping to disappear into the corner.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t say a word. His sunset colored eyes are glued to her form. His dark hair sticks to his forehead in sweaty strands. She can see the scars across his body, on his arms that lead up to his chest and up across his face.

He stares at her unblinkingly, as if daring her to make a move. His teeth are still bared, and his expression is full of hostility. He doesn’t look like a Hybrid who wants to be saved.

She slowly takes a step back, careful to keep her eyes on him. Her instincts tell her that moving too fast would probably lead to being eaten alive. Her heartbeat seems to be pounding in her ears. His eyes narrow at her movements.

His fingers twitch slightly, and his jaw flexes. They are both waiting for the other to make the next move.

MC finally tears her eyes away to look at the clipboard hanging by his cage. It’s scrawled in a hurried penmanship.

On the paper, there is his name at the top, and a short list of information about him.

‘Caleb.’

‘Bite Risk.’

‘25 Years Old.’

‘6’2’

‘Traumatized.’

‘Experimental.’

There is a note below his name, stating that he is not eligible for adoption.

She stares down at the notes in confusion. He’s not eligible for adoption? Why not? What makes him so different from the other hybrids?

She glances back to him. He hasn’t moved at all.

“Do you not want to leave this place? Is that what it means?” Her voice is quiet, but it seems to jar him anyways. He makes a low growl in the back of his throat. His eyes flash with something almost like disgust.

“I’m stuck here.” His voice is low, as dangerous as the rest of him. His tone is flat, and full of anger that he clearly tries to hide.

“I was supposed to be discharged from the Farspace Fleet, but they want me back.” He makes a strangled noise and his hands clench into fists. A bitter note enters his voice when he adds, “They can’t have me. I’m done fighting. I am not a weapon.”

He hesitates, and something that looked like guilt flashed in his eyes. He looks away.

MC felt her chest tighten. He looks terrified and fearsome at the same time. But she’s finally getting him to talk. “Why don’t you want to go back? Don’t Hybrids have handlers? I’m sure they miss you-“

“Dead.” He answers shortly, and his voice is tight.

After a moment, he reluctantly adds, “He was a… close friend. I’m the reason he died. He chose me over his own safety. And, I suppose his death was the final straw for me. He sacrificed himself and I was still left here.”

His voice is filled with something almost like self-loathing. It’s heavy and full of disgust. He looks at his hands.

He clams back up, drawing his knees to his chest. MC kneels down, fingers gripping around the bars of the cage. But something in Caleb snaps, and he lunges forward.

He collides with the bars of the cage. She immediately drops backwards, gasping in shock.

There was not even a second where she could move away. One moment he was sitting in the corner of the cage, and the next he was lunging towards her. It was if he’d teleported.

She stares up at him in horror, and he bares his sharp, white teeth, growling again.

“Do not touch the cage.” He orders, voice low.

His face is close to hers, and she is frozen. There is only about two or three inches of space between them. He is panting slightly, drooling dripping from the corners of his mouth, but his eyes are completely clear of fear. They are filled with rage, and he stares down at her.

What happens next is a blur. He reaches out and grabs her face. Before she even has time to react, he pulls her so her face is pressed against the bars. She feels the cage’s coldness touch the side of her cheek.

“You don’t touch the cage!” he snarls.

He pulls her closer, and she gasps. His grip on chin is firm, and his breath puffs against the side of her neck. She can feel the tips of her nails digging into the bars of the cage. Her breathing quickens, and a small whine escapes her.

But, before anything can happen, they hear footsteps, and he drops her. She falls to the floor. He is panting, eyes wild.

The door flies open and Tara is standing there with one of the Shelter attendants.

“MC?” Tara stares wide-eyed at the scene in front of her. She rushes towards her, helping her up.

“Tara?” MC’s voice is small, and she is still in shock. A bruise is forming on her chin.

“Are you alright? You shouldn’t have come in here alone.” Tara scolds, looking her over. “What happened?”

But before she can explain, the Shelter attendant speaks.

“I am so sorry. The warning is there for a reason. He is a bite risk, and can be quite dangerous when startled.” The attendant is holding her clipboard tightly against her chest, looking a bit afraid.

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have gone into the room.” She mumbles. Her entire body feels like it’s been shocked.

The attendant smiles weakly. “Let’s go. We have other Hybrids to see.” She is obviously eager to leave.

MC looks at Caleb who has curled back into the corner. She feels her chest rise and fall with exertion, with anxiety and fear but something else.

The attendant looks stunned, and before she can respond Tara is speaking.

“What?! MC, no. Why? You told me you had no interest in Hybrids?” She sounds absolutely shocked. She can’t believe what her friend is saying.

“You shouldn’t. He isn’t available for adoption.” The attendant adds, but MC’s gaze remains locked onto Caleb’s still form.

“He is at this Shelter and he needs a home. I’ll pay the Farspace Fleet whatever they want for him.” MC says firmly.

Tara shakes her head. “This is a terrible idea. Look at him!” She gestures towards Caleb, as if trying to get her coworker to come to her senses.

The attendant steps in before Tara can continue arguing.

“It is against the shelter’s policies to adopt out Hybrids that are high risk. Caleb is dangerous — his file even states that if by some way he escaped, he should be shot on sight.”

“I’m not changing my mind.” MC says firmly.

The attendant is hesitant. She shifts her weight from foot to foot, and the clipboard she’s holding is pressed against her chest.

Tara’s brow furrow. “You’re crazy. There’s plenty of other hybrids here, why choose him? He tried to bite you!” She sounds incredulous. Her grip on MC’s arm tightens slightly.

“He’s not allowed to be adopted for a reason. He’s dangerous!”

MC has always been stubborn.

She is holding the lead to Caleb’s collar. She was broke now and the Handler of a new Hybrid who was muzzled.

Caleb stares at her with an unreadable expression. He has been collared, and looks extremely unhappy with the new accessory.

The Shelter attendant had reluctantly provided the collar after she had been assured that security measures would be taken. MC had signed a waiver stating that if there was an incident, she would not press charges.

Now, they are on the way to her house. Tara has already gone home, unhappy that she hadn’t been able to talk the stubborn woman out of adopting Caleb.

She had to nearly drag Caleb’s unwilling massive frame into her car. He was terrified, he had even pissed in the back of her car out of fear.

“Hey, hey Buddy it’s okay. I’m not taking you back there.” She speaks softly, trying to reach out and stroke his ears. He shy’s away from it, ears folded back.

She sighs, realizing this drive was going to be long and silent.

->Next Chapter

[andvys]

Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

Chapter one ⭐︎ Waiting Room

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of death and injuries, mention of physical assault (physical fight), head injuries, mention of bruises and scars, mention of Eddie's almost death. pining. allusions to unrequited love. enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort. lots and lots of tension. slow burn. also, instead of writing summaries, I will name each chapter after a song that fits the vibe of each chapter. Also, mentioning this again, her nickname has nothing to do with her hair color.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 6.9k

Author's note: @hellfire--cult you know I will mention you in every chapter, so don't even try to fight me. Thanks for coming up with all these ideas with me mwah! — This is only the beginning, guys. This story will progress into something much more intense after chapter four or five, I can’t wait to share this one with you and get into the good and spicy stuff hehe!

Read the prologue first!

series masterlist ⭐︎ next chapter

♡

Your body was aching and everything inside of you was screaming at you to not open your eyes just yet, you felt as though you were being dragged out of it. All your limbs were hurting, your skin aching, your head was pounding. You could not begin to describe the pain even if you tried, it was unlike anything you had felt before. Your memory was lost, at least that’s what it felt like for the first few seconds. 

Then they started coming back slowly. 

From the gate in the water, to Steve being pulled under.

From the bats trying to bite chunks of his skin to you doing everything in your power to save him. 

From the creepy old Creel house, to Max offering herself as the bait. 

As pictures of her flashed in your mind, you suddenly started to register the smell – the disinfectant, the disgusting smell of hospital. You heard the beeping of the machines next to you, and you felt the wires attached to your body. 

You tried to press your lips together, though tears burned in your eyes when the crack in your lip stung. 

You moved your hand as you slowly opened your eyes to bright lights shining into the room you were in. You squinted them, trying to adjust to the light and the vision in front of you, it took you a moment, everything was still so blurry. 

From the corner of your eye, you could see a mop of dark curls. You slowly moved your head to the left side, restraining a groan when you felt a flash of pain in your head. You blinked a few times, taking in the sight of a bruised and battered Eddie, who was looking down at his rings, twisting and playing with them nervously. 

“Eddie?” You said and only then you felt how dry your throat had felt, how raspy your voice had sounded and how much it was aching. 

You did not notice the movement on your right side.

He straightened up as he lifted his head so suddenly, eyes wide as he looked into yours. Relief flashed his face and a smile appeared on his lips.

“Oh thank god.. Hi sweetheart.. slept well?” 

You stared at him for a good long minute, trying to figure out what had happened to him. By the developing scars on his face and the white bandage around his neck, you had an idea of what had gotten to him. 

Was he on the brink of death just like you had been? 

By the look in his eyes, you could tell that he was. 

“Huh… I’m not dead?” 

He shook his head, eyes filled with relief, “gladly no.”

You rolled your eyes at his words, “well, shucks,” you sighed, like you didn’t fight for your life back at the Creel house. 

Eddie sighed but chuckled, understanding your dark humor better than anyone else – despite only knowing you for a few days. 

A cough finally fell from your lips when you tried to sit up, though losing the strength to, you fell back again.

Eddie instantly reached for the water bottle on the table next to you, pouring some into the plastic cup before he carefully placed it into your hand, trying not to touch the bruises on your knuckles. 

You thanked him with a small smile before you lifted the cup to your lips with shaky hands. 

“Careful,” Eddie whispered as he watched you.

You nodded and closed your eyes as you took a sip of the water, welcoming the feeling of the coldness in your dry throat, you took a few sips before you handed him back the cup. 

“How long was I out?”

The sigh from your right side startled you a little, with furrowed brows, you turned to look only to be caught off guard. 

Steve Harrington.

With his arms crossed, he stood by the window, staring at you with an unreadable look on his face. He took you in, eyes glaring at the wounds on your skin. 

“You had to have surgery. There–... There was a deep concussion in your head and a vessel popped. If they didn’t do it quickly you..” He could not bring himself to finish that sentence, he clenched his jaw and looked down at his hands. 

Your heart fluttered at the sight of him. 

Even in this current state, you could not help but smirk cheekily, though it dropped the moment it appeared when you suddenly could feel all the bruises on your face. Your eyes watered and a wince fell from your lips. 

Steve lifted his head at the sound. 

And Eddie straightened up. 

“Don’t move your face too much, sweets.. It’s…” He stopped as he felt anger and sadness hit him all at once. 

He did not want to tell you how bad it really was – how your skin was bruised, how puffy your eyes were. 

You closed your eyes again and laid your head back. 

“Ah, he got me good, didn’t he?” 

Steve swallowed harshly. 

He pushed away the pain from seeing you like this and cleared his throat. He licked his lips and leaned closer. 

“Yeah, but you got him better.” 

You frowned at his words, not quite understanding. 

Eddie glared at him, not knowing how you would take the news so soon. 

“Huh?”

Steve ignored the look in Eddie’s eyes, he kept his on you. 

“Jason’s dead. He fell onto broken wood… that impaled him.”

Oh. 

Flashes of the night came in a blur. 

The fight. 

His rough hands as he hit you, over and over again, as he held you down and wrapped his merciless fingers around your throat, aiming for the kill. 

You felt your heart beating a little faster at the memory, how scared you were when he pointed a gun at Lucas before you stepped in between them, knowing that he could have shot you, right then and there. How much it hurt when he sliced your cheek open with the stupid ring on his finger as he delivered the first punch, how close to death you were when he choked you. You saw the look in his eyes, the rage, as he called you a traitor for protecting ‘the killer’ of your friend. Tears of frustration and anger fell from your eyes when you almost lost the fight – Lucas’s screams as he called out to Max urged you to fight back, and you did, you used every last bit of your strength to throw him off of you and pushed him away. 

Pushed him into his death. 

You do not feel bad. – Max could have died because of him. He would have killed Lucas. He wanted to kill you. 

“Good,” you murmured as you blinked the tears away that formed in your eyes again, “he was going to kill the kids.. He had a gun.. He had a gun, Steve.”

It was almost weird to hear you call him by his name. 

He instantly rushed to your side and reached for your hand, something that neither of you would ever think back to again. 

“Yeah, and you saved them. Listen, you can’t talk much, you need to heal, Blondie.”

Right. The ache in your neck was not from the lack of water, it was from the bruises, from almost being strangled to death.

“Everything else is being taken care of,” he said as he squeezed your hand. 

You ignored the feeling in your chest and turned to look at Eddie. 

“And you?” 

“Well, you are looking at a free man! A free man that was targeted by Victor Creel himself after he got out of Pennhurst. I trespassed into his home many times and he had a vendetta against me or some shit.”

You felt relief rushing through you. 

Though, you saw the hurt behind his eyes, knowing he had to lie about seeing Creel killing Chrissy. 

He did not want to put the blame on somebody else, he knew what it had felt like to be accused of something he hadn’t done – but there was no other option, he had no choice, he wasn’t given one. People of power had told him what to do. In return, he got his name cleared and had been given a good amount of money for ‘the troubles’. Money that he could live off from for the rest of his life.

“I’m glad you’re okay, Eddie.” 

He smiled at your words, nodding. 

“What happened to you?” 

He opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Steve. 

“He played hero when he shouldn’t have.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes at him. 

Hero. There wasn’t only one hero that night. 

Almost in panic, you straightened up. 

“Where’s Max?” 

Steve put his hand on yours again, giving it a pat as he tried to calm you down, though all he gave you was shivers running down your spine from his touch. 

“Healing. He broke one arm and one leg, but she is awake. Robin is with her, she’s been waiting for you to wake up.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, the weight in your shoulders fell just like that. You felt like crying, but you wouldn’t do it here, in front of them. 

“And everyone else?”

You took in the sight of him, properly this time. 

There were dark circles beneath his eyes, tiredness in his face.

You didn’t know what prompted you to do this, maybe it was the high anesthetic in your system or a spur of the moment – but you lifted your hand, reached out to him to graze your fingertips against his neck, on the mark where the tail of a demobat almost strangled him. 

He did not pull away, but he stared at you with wide eyes, blushing at your action.  

“I-I’m fine.. Everyone else is too,” he said and cleared his throat. 

A scoff on your left pulled you back and you removed your hand from Steve’s neck to look over at Eddie. 

“Speak for yourself, I have like forty stitches all over my body.”

How he managed to joke about that while he was still in so much pain? You did not know. But then again, you were just the same. 

He spared you the details when he began to talk about what happened in the upside down. Steve did not want to revive the story again, seemingly not handling the thought of his new friend dying so cruelly. He left and told you that he’d come back later. 

As Eddie was telling you about the swarm of bats, you felt the pain in your chest, just like when you had found out about Chrissy, just like when you had found out about him. 

Eddie was a new addition to your life, you two are barely even friends, though you do not know how you would handle the news of him not making it. 

“I’m happy you’re here.”

Eddie’s eyes softened, though a smirk tugged at his lips. 

“Going soft on me now, sweets?” He chuckled, surprised to hear such words from you. “Or are you still on drugs? Where’s the little ol’ meanie, I kinda liked her.” 

A pained chuckle fell from your lips. 

“She’ll be back in no time, don’t you worry.”

Your laughter died down when you thought of the way he looked at you. 

Judging by all the pain you were still feeling, you knew that you looked awful. 

“How bad do I look? Be honest, please.”

Eddie shook his head with a pained look on his face. He looked down for a moment. His eyes flashed with anger and sadness. 

“Bad, sweetheart. When we found out that Jason did this to you.. We wanted to revive him only to kill him again,” he said angrily. “Steve wanted to rip his corpse apart, that’s what Robin told me.”

For a moment, you felt cheerful and your eyes had softened. 

For a moment you had thought that he cared. 

But Eddie quickly pulled you back into reality after shattering that illusion. 

“He saw what he did to Lucas, it’s not as bad as you but.. fuck. He was going to kill Max too.”

Steve was angry at Jason because of the teens, not because of what he did to you, never because of you. He wouldn’t have cared if you bleed out on the ground in the Creel house. He wouldn’t have cared if you died. 

You focused on Eddie, on the anger in his features – it made your eyes soften, knowing that you found another friend, one that you should probably protect from the curse that you are. 

“Shouldn’t you be resting?”

“I can walk now..”

You frown, tilting your head at him before you look down at yourself. 

“How long have I been out?” You asked when you realized that Steve had never answered your question. 

“You’ve been out for a whole week, sweetheart.”

Your eyes widened, you dug your hands into the mattress and pushed yourself up. 

“Whoa, whoa!” Eddie raised his hands as he tried to stop you from sitting up. 

“W-What, oh my god, my sister must be worried!” 

He put his hand on your arm, gently – you had noticed it before, how careful he had been to touch you, like he was afraid of hurting you, like you were something fragile. 

“Yeah, about that–” He never got to finish his sentence as the door burst open and your sister stormed inside the room. 

Your eyes widened at the sight of her, not because you were surprised or confused to see her here, but because it’s been two months since you had last seen her. Besides the concerned look on her face, she was glowing – maybe it was the pregnancy or maybe it was just the fact that she has been much happier since leaving Hawkins behind. 

“Hi hi, honey! Are you okay?” 

That day she had the same concern in her voice as she does now while she talks your ear off about how important it is to go to all your checkups at the Hospital. She is calling every day, just to remind you – and to check on you. 

You are fine. Just fine. 

You survived an attack, you survived surgery, you survived. You made a good recovery and you are getting better each day. Besides, Eddie and Max are on your back about the check-ups just as much, you have no choice but to go to them. 

You’re holding the telephone between your ear and your shoulder as you finish touching up your make up, applying some gloss to your lips before you pick up the brush one more time and carefully go through your hair, trying not to hurt yourself, your head starts hurting at every slightest touch and it’s beginning to frustrate you. 

“I’m telling you, this baby is going to be a little runner.” 

“Is she still kicking?” 

Your sister huffs before she laughs, “she is kicking all the time, sis.”

You smile as you take the telephone and walk towards your window, leaning against the wall as you wait for the Impala to pull up in your driveway. 

“I can’t wait to meet her. I never held a baby before.”

“Well, you’re about to – give it a few more weeks and you’ll turn into an auntie in no time.”

“I am already an auntie,” you chuckle. “How could you forget little Luna? She was your first child.” 

You remember how devastated you were when she took the black cat with her as she moved out of your parents house and left the town, for good. You begged her to leave the cat with you, put on your best puppy face but she wouldn’t have it, it was her cat, after all. 

“Right, sorry sorry.” She laughs. 

You hear rustling in the back and a moment later, a loud crunch sounds through the phone. You don’t have to ask to know what she’s eating. Chips. She is always eating salted chips, now even more so than before. 

“What are you doing today?” She asks with a mouthful. 

Looking down at your outfit, you place your palm on your new denim shorts before you slide your fingers into the pocket. 

“I’m going to a barbecue in a few,” you say. “Max basically forced me to come.”

“Wait, you’re not driving yourself, are you?”

You roll your eyes, shaking your head as a huff falls from your lips. 

You’re not allowed to drive, not yet. Your vision gets blurry sometimes, and you get light headed very easily. Your doctor said that it would pass, but it’s been two weeks since you had been released from the hospital and it hasn’t passed yet. 

Jason truly did a number on you. 

“No, don’t worry. My friends would kill me if I even tried–”

“Don’t say that word,” she cuts you off with a stern voice. “But I agree with them.”

You snort. 

“Anyways, Eddie is picking me up.”

Silence follows for a good thirty seconds before she continues eating her chips. You can practically hear her thoughts, you already know what she’s about to say next. 

“Eddie. He was the cute one with the long hair, right?” She asks, innocently. “The one who brought you chocolate and magazines?” 

Rolling your eyes at her teasing voice, you push yourself away from the wall when you see the black Impala pulling up to your house. 

“Don’t even,” you sigh, scrunching up your face in annoyance. 

She has been waiting, waiting for years for you to finally have a crush on someone, to fall in love, go on dates and get a boyfriend. 

Though, unlike her, you weren’t exactly popular – maybe it was your own fault, but that’s beside the point. Your sister loved having crushes and going on dates. She loved falling in love. 

You? Not so much. 

Love has only brought you pain. 

And you never cared much for dating – not even for fun. You don’t mind being on your own, loving someone from afar and in secret, for probably the rest of your life. 

“What’s wrong with him? Isn’t he super sweet?” She asks. “He brought you chocolate, sat by your side and you seem to like him–”

“Yeah, as a friend.” 

“Oh,” she sighs, humming. “Yeah, you never liked the nice guys, did you?” 

She got you there. Well, kind of. He is nice. He is nice to everyone, but to you. 

“What about the other guy then? What was his name again… Steve?” 

Just the mention of his name has shivers running down your spine, your heart fluttering and your skin crawling in tingles. 

You feel your cheeks glowing but you roll your eyes at the stupid giddiness that you feel, everytime you think of him.

“Mhmm, Steve.” 

“Huh.” You could practically hear the smirk in her voice. “What about him?”

If she only knew. 

Eddie honks the car horn, giving you the perfect excuse to hang up the phone. You walk back to your dresser, putting the phone down. 

“Anyways, I love you, sis. But a very hungry Eddie is waiting for me in the driveway.”

You know that he is hungry, he is always hungry, always eating away all the snacks and stealing leftover fries from everyone’s plates, no matter how much he had eaten already.

“Have fun with uh Steve! Love you, mwah, bye!”

You roll your eyes once again as you hang up the phone. 

Steve and Fun in one sentence just doesn’t sound right. That guy would rather stay miserable for the rest of his life than even try to have fun with you. 

He can’t stand you. 

And well, you can’t stand him either. – At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself, all while knowing that it’s very much a lie, but how else would you stay sane?

You quickly make your way down the stairs, reaching for your keys and your sunglasses on the way out. You skip down the porch steps. You tap the hood of his car before you get into the passenger seat. 

Eddie is already grinning at you, waving his fingers at you. 

“Hey sexy.” 

His brows shoot up and a smirk tugs at his lips. He playfully eyes you up and down. 

You close the door and sit back, greeting him with a mocking smirk. 

“Hello to you too, sweets,” he says in a low and deep voice – one that almost has you laughing. 

“Oh, I wasn’t greeting you,” you say, nonchalantly. “I was talking to Arwen,” you gesture to his beloved, new car, that he of course named after a Lord of the rings character. 

“But, hi Eddie.”

A loud laugh leaves his lips, his brown eyes twinkle with amusement. He grabs the gearstick, shaking his head at you. 

“You ready for some heavy metal heaven?” 

You put on your sunglasses and fasten the seatbelt after he points at you with a stern look on his face. 

“Sure,” you snort, knowing that the drive to the Sinclair house will be anything but uneventful. When Eddie isn’t singing and bobbing his head to the music, he’s shouting over it, telling you a story that he can’t wait to get off his chest. 

Your friendship with him is something you didn’t see coming. You tried to push him away, knowing how your friendships with people you care about usually end, but he wouldn’t have it. He kept coming back, just like Robin, just like the teens. 

You don’t understand why. 

What’s there about you that they want you around so bad? 

You’re never in a happy mood, you’re never entertaining, you don’t bring anything into the friend group. You don’t get along with most people – by most people you only mean Steve Harrington. 

You wonder if it’s because you almost died and they’d feel guilty to exclude you after helping them or if Max forces them to accept you into a friend group you never even wanted to be part of. 

“How’s your head doing?” Eddie asks as he drives on Maple Street. 

“Good, s’not hurting anymore.” You lie. 

He knows. 

Eddie sees the way you react to bright lights, the way you scrunch up your nose a little whenever the sun shines into your eyes or the way you rest your hand against the nearest wall when you seem to get dizzy. 

“When’s your next check-up?” 

He sounds just as concerned as your sister does, it makes you laugh a little. 

Who would have thought that Eddie could be so caring? 

“Tomorrow, 3pm.”

“Want me to drive you?”

You shake your head, “no, it’s fine. I’ll take the bus.”

He scoffs, shooting you a glare as he pulls up into the driveway, parking his car behind the burgundy BMW. 

“You think I’ll let you take the bus? I’ll drive you and then we’ll get burgers.” 

You unbuckle your seatbelt, chuckling as you turn to him, “okay, dad.” 

“Shut up,” he grumbles at you with a glare. 

Laughing at the look on his face, you get out of the car and make your way over to the house. Eddie bumps his shoulder into yours, tilting his head down, he looks at your heart shaped sunglasses. 

“Where’d you get these?” He asks, pointing at them. 

“Macy’s, why? You want some too?” 

“What if I do?” He asks, ringing the doorbell. 

“Then we’ll get you some pink ones.” 

A smirk tugs at his lips, “hell yeah.” 

Robin opens the door with an excited smile on her face, grinning when she sees you. 

“Hi!” She beams at you. “Come on in.” She steps aside, lifting her arm as she waits for you both to step inside. 

You walk in first, and as you do, Robin pulls you into a hug, greeting you once more. 

“Hey,” you mumble as you slowly lift your arms to hug her back. 

Eddie chuckles at the confused frown on your face, he follows inside and closes the door. 

“C’mon, Steve is already bitching about you two being late.” 

And just like that, your heart jumps a little. You hate yourself a little in these moments. 

Pushing your sunglasses up on your head, you and Eddie follow her out into the garden. 

You can hear the music outside, laughter and Steve’s stern voice as he scolds Dustin, as always. The smell of smoke lingers in the air and as you step outside, you catch sight of Steve, standing behind the grill, with one hand on his hip and the other pointing at Dustin with the grill tong. 

His hair is messy, a spit curl falling before his eyes. He is wearing his black sunglasses, green khaki pants, a gray tank top,– oh god. This is going to be a long day. 

You swallow as you tear your eyes away from him, looking around with squinted eyes, the sun is harsh and you instantly put your sunglasses back on.

“Are the Sinclair’s around?” You ask, meaning Lucas’s and Erica’s parents. 

Robin shakes her head, “no, they’re out in Indianapolis until tomorrow, Steve is probably gonna stay the night.”

You nod. 

You hear your name being called and you turn to your right to see Lucas waving at you with a smile on his face. He is sitting on the lounger Max is laying on, still with casts on her leg and her arm. She pushes herself up on her elbows, looking in your direction, a smile appears on her face and she greets you just as kindly as her boyfriend did. 

Robin leaves your side, walking towards Dustin who plays with his new, portable Stereo. 

As you pass by Steve, he turns around to greet Eddie with a smile and you with nothing more than a nod and low grumble, “Blondie.” 

Whenever he seems moody or pissed off, you feel the urge to make it even worse. And you do, every single time. 

You walk around him and look at the meat on the grill, whining.

“I don’t eat meat.”

He turns to you, eyes growing wide at your words. He didn’t know. And he already feels guilty for not asking you first. He pushes his sunglasses up into his hair as an apologetic look crosses his face. 

“Fuck… I-I didn’t know–” he stops when he notices the smug look on your face and hears Eddie chuckle over his shoulder. 

He should’ve known. 

With a groan, he rolls his eyes and pushes his sunglasses back down as he turns back to the grill. 

“Hey Eddie!” Dustin calls out to him, already grinning at Steve. “Check this out!” 

“Don’t you dare, Dustin–” Robin gets cut off by a scream as it blasts from the stereo. She smacks him lightly on his head, yelling at him to turn it off. 

Eddie laughs loudly, leaving yours and Steve’s side. 

“Jesus christ,” Steve mumbles, scrunching his face up at the music. “That shrimp has been doing that all day. Eddie really is a bad influence.” 

“Aw, poor Steve,” you pout at him, “are you mad that you can’t listen to Madonna?” 

He scoffs at you, though he doesn’t say anything and focuses on the sizzling burgers as he turns them over. 

You press your lips together, ignoring the tugging in your chest or the feeling in your stomach as you use his distraction to look at him. 

It’s only nearing the end of April, but it already feels like the beginning of summer. Steve’s skin is already sun kissed. You hide your eyes behind your sunglasses as you ogle him. Taking in the sight of his veiny hands, his arms that have just the perfect amount of muscle, his chest hair that you always tease him for, the silver chain around his neck. 

You swallow. 

Cursing inwardly when you feel your stomach fluttering. 

He turns to face you again, totally catching you and your staring. 

Fuck. 

“Like what you see?” He smirks down at you. 

You bite the inside of your cheeks, trying not to blush under his gaze. 

He is feeling smug. Not because he likes you staring at him, but because he’s been waiting for a moment to embarrass you with something. 

He expects you to stutter, to step back and answer his question with a shaky and squeaky voice, because that is what he must be used to, but you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. You take a step closer to him, biting your lip as you eye him up and down. 

You can tell that it catches him off guard a little, but unlike you, he isn’t blushing. 

“Yeah, actually,” you whisper and put your hand on his shoulder as you lean closer to the small table where he left his coke. You wrap your hand around the can, it’s cold against your palm and you hum in satisfaction as you raise it up to your lips, taking a sip of his drink. “Mmmh, perfect.” 

You turn around, and walk away without another word, leaving him huffing and glaring at you. 

You fail to notice or feel his eyes on you, the way they rake down your body, the way he licks his lips before he forces his eyes away from you. 

You greet Lucas and Max properly, hugging the latter before you take a seat on the lounger next to her, choosing the one that is half in the shadow, so you can hide your face from the sun. 

You easily fall into a conversation with the teens. You had always been close with Max, even before you were dragged into all of this. 

Being friends with her, also brought Lucas into your life. Unlike Dustin, who is always somehow trying to get on your nerves by teasing you with crushes that don’t exist or annoying you like a younger brother would do, Lucas is always very kind. 

“I can’t wait for you to get your car back.” 

Chuckling at Lucas’s words, you take off your sunglasses and put them down beside you. 

“Why’s that?” 

“So you can drive us around again,” he shrugs as he flashes you a smile. 

“Are Steve and Eddie not good enough for you?” You snort. 

Max scoffs loudly, rolling her eyes as she turns to you. 

“Steve is always whining about something!” 

“Yeah, and Eddie drives like a maniac,” Lucas groans, throwing his hands up. 

Max purses her lips, looking down at her cast. 

“Yeah, like your girlfriend,” you laugh, glancing at Lucas. “I wonder who will teach her how to drive properly.” 

“First of all, I don’t drive like a maniac,” says Max. “Second, why don’t you teach me how to drive?” 

You raise your brows at her, shaking your head, “sorry girl, but I am not a good teacher.” 

“But you’re like a big sister to me, you’re supposed to teach me,” she teases, though she looks at you with her best puppy eyes. “Besides, we can take Billy’s car.”

Shaking your head at her, you lay your head back and close your eyes, “don’t even try, Max. We’ll both end up in a ditch, we barely made it out last time.” 

She snorts at your words while Lucas looks between the two of you with disapproval on his face. 

“I’m starting to think that neither of you should ever drive again.” 

“I actually agree with you,” Robin chimes in as she joins the three of you. “I’ve heard of Max’s driving skills and uh… you lady,” she points at you, moving your legs to the side as she takes a seat on your lounder, “are danger in person.” 

“Me?” You gasp, putting your hand on your chest. 

“Yeah, you!” 

Steve watches you from afar, ignoring the heavy metal music and the curly heads behind him, who are going crazy over a song he just can’t find a liking to. 

He watches you – the way you crack a smile and shake your head with an amused look on your face. 

He watches you talk to the teens and to his best friend, easily falling into conversations. He rarely sees you like this – smiling and carefree. You’re usually always tense, annoyed and wearing a permanent frown on your face. Mostly around him. 

Steve will never know what it’s like to have a normal conversation with you, to see you smiling at him, not in a teasing way, in a real way. He is not sure if he ever even saw a real smile on your face – not even the one you are wearing now is real. 

But, why does he even care? You two have never gotten along, you hated each other, at first glance. 

With a sigh, he turns off the grill. He carries the tray filled with food over to where everyone is sitting, motioning for Eddie and Dustin to follow. 

Steve walks past you, not paying attention to how close he is to you, he accidentally bumps you in the head with the corner of the tray. He doesn’t even notice that he did – not until, you duck your head down and raise your hand to touch the side of your head. 

Max snaps her head up at him with a glare on her face. Lucas freezes when he sees how angry she is. 

He looks down at you, to see you looking up at him already. 

“I’m sorry..” He murmurs. 

You don’t speak, instead you look up at him with big eyes and a pained look on your face. 

“Oh come on, I barely even touched you,” he says, nervously. 

Eddie and Robin glance at each other, confused and worried. 

He rolls his eyes at you, knowing that this is another one of your little games that you always play, whenever you get bored. 

“Are you fucking with me again?”

Max shoots out of her seat, almost falling over due to the cast on her leg, her cheeks grow red in anger as her eyes burn into Steve. 

“Her head! You hit her head, you stupid idiot!” She points at him with rage in her voice. 

Steve’s eyes widen as deep guilt rushes through him, he instantly drops the tray on the table before he crouches down in front of you, shakily laying his palm on your shoulder as Max continues to curse at him. 

He wasn’t thinking. He didn’t think of that. 

“S-Shit,” he mumbles, looking at you apologetically. 

How could he forget? The doctor told you how sensitive you would be at every slightest touch to your head, how every slightest bump could cause nausea, dizziness or even a migraine. He was there, he heard him say it loud and clearly, yet he forgot.

Only now does he notice the hurt in your eyes as you place your palm over your ear – your ear that is ringing, for a moment it feels as though you’ve been pulled under water, and still you hear Max yelling at Steve. 

It’s not his fault, it was an accident. 

“Max! It wasn’t his fault, he didn’t do it on purpose! J-Just fuck…” You curse at the pain, not even recognizing your own voice for a moment. Who would’ve thought that you would be this sensitive? You feel his hand on your shoulder, maybe it eases the pain a little, or maybe it’s just the comfort that you feel from only his touch. 

“I-I’m gonna get you some ice,” Steve mumbles and rushes into the house, with Eddie following close behind. 

He throws his sunglasses on the counter and huffs in frustration as he tugs at his hair. He opens the freezer and gets an ice pack out. 

“Steve–”

“Fuck, Eddie. I didn’t know, I thought she was fucking with me again,” he stammers, wrapping the icepack into a cloth. “She always does this a-and I wasn’t thinking of the fucking injury.”

Steve is cursing at himself and at Jason who caused all of this, who did this to you. 

Eddie takes a step closer to him, placing his hand on his shoulder, trying to calm his friend down. 

“Steve,” he sighs but he won’t look at him. “You didn’t know, i-it’s just a migraine, nothing else–”

“Nothing else?” Steve scoffs, frowning at Eddie. 

How could this be nothing else? He caused you pain with the slightest touch, something that reminded you of what you had been through, only a few weeks back. And he might have just triggered even more than a migraine, he might have triggered some thoughts to come back that you tried to not think of. 

He rushes back out to you. 

When you see him, you are already reaching for the ice pack, waving your hand at him to give it to you but he pulls it back, not handing it to you. 

You huff in annoyance, looking at him in disbelief. 

Max is standing with a hand on her hip, extending her arm as well as she glares at him in annoyance. 

Lucas and Dustin glance at each other, like they are afraid to move or even say anything as they quietly eat their food. 

“Lego head, give me the ice pack–”

He startles you a little by sitting down right behind you, “where do I press?” He asks. 

You’re taken aback by his words and his action, you’re taken aback by his touch. 

“Huh?”

“Where do I press the ice pack?” He asks again, breathing down your neck. 

You glance up at Max, she raises her eyebrows at you. Normally, she is the one who helps you, sometimes it’s Eddie or Robin, but Steve? Steve never helped you. 

She eyes Steve and the look in his eyes, the guilt and the pain from hurting someone when normally, he tries to do everything in his power to protect people, even the ones that he doesn’t like. 

With a sigh, she slowly sits down. 

Despite the pain that is pulsating in your head, you feel shivers running down your spine when Steve moves your hair to the side, his fingertips grazing your skin. 

“Where?”

“I uh–... here,” you mumble, quietly as you point to the spot where it hurts the most. 

“Okay,” he whispers and scoots even closer to you, he presses the ice pack against the back of your head. 

You sigh and relax a little, closing your eyes as you welcome the coldness. 

Your heart flutters in your chest when he presses his free hand on your shoulder, touching you gently. 

“Max, you should eat something,” Robin says, trying to smile at the angry teen. 

“Yeah, you’re gonna heal faster if you eat a burger,” Eddie grins, trying to ease the tension as he hands her the plate. 

“A burger will help me heal, really?” She scrunches her face up but grabs the plate, nonetheless. 

“Yeah, actually. It’ll give you some of the strength back,” Dustin winks at her before he takes a bite of his burger. 

She snorts, shaking her head at them. 

You listen to your friends chatter as you keep your eyes closed. Tilting your head to the side, you lean back slightly, – wishing you could just lean into him. You can sense how tense he is, you are almost certain that you can hear his thoughts, how he is cursing at himself for this, for hurting someone – even if it’s just you. 

“Stop stressing about it, Harrington. It’s nothing,” you sigh, trying to ease some of his tension. 

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head, “You and Eddie, I swear if you keep saying this is nothing..” He huffs in frustration. 

Not only does he hate all of this – he also hates the feeling of your soft skin beneath his touch, the smell of your perfume, the smell of your body wash that he is close enough to smell – and fuck, does it smell good, good enough to make his stomach feel all weird again. 

You try to chuckle, though he can tell that it’s pained. 

“What, you worried about me, Lego head? Thought I didn’t affect your life at all?” You ask smugly, as though it’s a joke to you. 

Your words feel like a punch to his gut, even though he was the one who said these words to you, it hurts for some reason, because maybe, these words aren’t true in the slightest. 

You might not be someone important to him, you might not be special to him. 

Yet it doesn’t change the feeling he had felt in his gut when he found out that you were on the brink of death, that night. When he saw you in the hospital room hours after your surgery, how lost and empty he had felt when he saw the state you were in. How he sat beside you for hours before the nurses finally kicked him out and told him to go home and rest. 

He clenches his jaw.

“Yes, I’m worried,” he huffs. “So shut up because you will make it worse, Blondie.” He says with full expectation to hear some smartass comment back from you. 

But you stay quiet, fully quiet. 

You open your eyes and you look down at your hands in sadness. 

You wish he didn’t say that to you. You wish he kept the hate comments instead, that he left you with the idea of hating you completely, not showing an ounce of worry towards you. Because this is ruining you. The act of kindness is completely destroying you, and he doesn’t even know. He doesn’t feel it either. 

You really are hopeless. 

>> next chapter

[kbunzzi2oa]

My First Kill -> Y.J

Synopsis -__-> Yang jungwon the very first man that made you feel love and hate and guilt..he made you feel loved, working as a therapist and as a night guard had it's perk for him

Word count -__-> 23.5k

Contains -__-> Smut, suggestive scenes, making out, eating pussy, M & F receiving, Oral, fingering, teasing, mentions of touching, sex, table sex, p in v, unprotected sex, emotional feelings, jealousy, mention of killing and blood, San from Ateez mentioned, ect.

Nef Notes -__-> ALRIGHT Finally GOT THIS HELL OF A THING OUT, I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS..it's the first part of the unleash me series, hope you guys would like the other parts in the future, comments, reblogs, reposts, are enough, I want your thoughts on this!..have a great night/day. (⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

The alarm blared like a police siren, slicing through the silence of your room and dragging you out of a dreamless sleep. Groggily, you slapped your hand over the noise, silencing it with a muffled groan. 6:50 a.m. glared back at you in red digital numbers. Today marked your very first shift as a night guard and therapist at an asylum.

You threw off the covers, stretching as you shuffled to the window. Pulling the curtains apart, the sunlight immediately assaulted your tired eyes—too bright, too early. Outside, dogs barked at one another across neighboring yards, their growls sharp and competitive. You winced. The world was already too loud.

As you trudged to the bathroom to get ready, your phone buzzed. You picked it up, pressing the speaker to your ear as a bubbly, overly enthusiastic voice burst through the line.

“Morning, my cupcake sunshine sparkle butt!” your best friend Chae sang.

You groaned into the receiver, blinking at your reflection in the mirror. “Chae, how do you have so much energy? I can barely form words before 10 a.m.”

“Because I’m excited for you, duh!” she giggled, the sound warming the room more than the morning sun. “First day on the job, babe. New beginnings! Aren’t you just a little excited? Maybe you’ll meet a hot policeman… or a dangerously sexy serial killer, like one of those dark romance movies I made you watch!”

You could practically see her wiggling her eyebrows through the phone.

“Yeah, right,” you muttered as you brushed your teeth. “And next thing you know, he’s haunting my dreams and stabbing everyone I love. No thanks.”

After showering, dressing, and pulling your hair into a half-decent style, you stepped out of the house. Locking the door, double-checking the windows, and turning off all the lights—as you always did—you gave a few polite "good mornings" to your neighbors and headed to your car.

The moment you shut the door, the heat hit you like a furnace. You quickly turned the AC on full blast. Summer was beautiful, sure, but the heatwave lately had been unbearable.

The drive was short, but every mile closer made your stomach churn with nerves. When you finally pulled up to the facility, your breath hitched.

The asylum was covered in rusting gray metal. Tall fences lined with barbed wire towered around the perimeter like it was more prison than hospital. Cameras followed your every movement as you approached the main gate.

Two security guards stood by the entrance, both looking exhausted and borderline lifeless.

“Morning, gentlemen,” you said softly, offering a polite smile.

They gave you tired nods as you stepped inside.

The interior was just as grim. The ceiling lights flickered and buzzed, many of them broken or dimmed to a jaundiced yellow glow. The hallway stretched on endlessly, filled with distant sounds—screams, maniacal laughter, and the occasional crash of something heavy being thrown. It was colder than expected, the air thick with the smell of disinfectant and rust.

Your boots echoed as you passed room after room, each one sealed with reinforced glass and steel locks. You tried not to look too long into any of the cells, afraid of what you might see staring back.

Eventually, you reached the staff room and were introduced to a few of your soon-to-be colleagues. Most were too busy to greet you properly, offering polite nods before returning to their reports or security monitors.

“Um… good morning, everyone,” you announced quietly. “I’m Kelly. I’m new here…”

A few heads lifted briefly. A couple of small smiles. Then, silence.

And then you saw him.

A man with jet-black hair, striking features, and a frame that was tall and impressively well-built walked up to you, a calm confidence radiating from his every step. His white trench coat hugged his shoulders perfectly, framing the lean muscle beneath. He extended a hand with a charming smile that made your heart flutter uncomfortably in your chest.

“Hi,” he said, his voice smooth like warm coffee. “I’m San. Nice to meet you. I’ll be showing you around today… maybe we can even become friends.”

The room seemed to pause, as if holding its breath.

You stared, taken aback by how absurdly handsome he was. Maybe Chae was onto something after all.

Snapping out of it, you took his hand and shook it gently. “Nice to meet you too… I’m Kelly. I hope we survive this place together.”

San laughed. God, that laugh could pay your entire phone bill and still leave you with change.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a wink. “It’s only scary until it’s familiar. Then it becomes fun.”

You weren't sure if "fun" was the right word for what this place would become.

But you were about to find out.

San chuckled, his voice low and velvety, before nodding toward the hallway. “Come on, let me show you around before your shift starts. I’ll introduce you to some of the regulars.”

You followed closely, the soles of your boots squeaking faintly against the linoleum. The halls twisted like veins, and the deeper you went, the colder the air turned. Goosebumps pricked up your arms. You passed rooms locked behind thick glass and steel, glimpsing figures that twitched or smiled a little too wide. Some stared blankly at the ceiling, others pressed their foreheads to the glass with unblinking eyes.

Then you reached one of the last doors on the far end. San paused and turned to you, voice dipping just enough to make your stomach tense. “This one… this is Jungwon. He’s… different. Be careful with him. He plays nice, but he’s the reason they keep the backup generator running.”

You blinked. “Why?”

San glanced at the security camera in the corner, then leaned in close, his breath fanning your cheek. “Because he likes the dark. He’s quiet until the lights go out… then he talks.”

You stepped toward the thick glass and peeked inside. Jungwon sat cross-legged on the cot, his head tilted back, dark hair a little messy, lips curled into a lazy smirk like he’d heard every word.

And you swear—he looked right into your soul.

His eyes were impossible to look away from. Deep, stormy, dangerous. He slowly stood up and approached the glass, placing one hand against it. It was like he could see right through you. His head tilted, eyes scanning you from head to toe, slow and intimate, like he was undressing your thoughts layer by layer.

“Y/N,” San murmured. “Don’t interact unless absolutely necessary.”

Too late. Jungwon was already speaking.

“You’re new,” his voice was soft, too calm, yet it scratched something in your spine. “And you’re the first thing I’ve wanted in a long time.”

Your breath caught. San immediately grabbed your arm. “We’re moving on.”

But as you turned, Jungwon whispered loud enough for only you to hear.

“You’ll come back. You’ll want to. They always do.”

　▄︻══━一 ♡

Night fell fast.

Your shift began with dull paperwork, briefings, and observing the monitors—but your attention kept drifting. Toward cell 09B.

Toward him.

The air buzzed with unspoken danger, a magnetic pull you couldn’t shake. Something in your chest tightened each time his face flickered on the screen. He never moved much, but his eyes… always on the camera. Like he knew where you were.

As your break arrived, you moved through the halls, your hand trembling slightly as you pressed your ID against the scanner.

Beep.

The door hissed open, slow and dramatic.

Jungwon was sitting again, this time on the floor, legs outstretched, fingers idly playing with the loose thread of his pants. When the door shut behind you and locked, he didn’t even flinch.

“Curiosity,” he murmured, licking his bottom lip. “It’s a delicious thing, isn’t it?”

You swallowed hard. “You’re not supposed to talk to staff.”

He rose like smoke, slow and graceful. The lights flickered. Once. Twice.

“You’re not just staff. You’re mine.”

You took a step back, your knees knocking into the cold metal table against the wall. “That’s a strong assumption for someone behind a locked door.”

He laughed. Low and melodic. The kind of sound that curled around your core.

“But you unlocked it. You came here, didn’t you?”

He walked toward you, not with menace, but with deliberate temptation. Like a predator who didn’t need to chase. He knew you wouldn’t run.

You hated how much he was right.

“Why do you talk like this?” you asked, trying to mask the heat pooling between your thighs with curiosity. “Is it a game to you?”

“Only when I like the player.” He stopped a few inches from you. The silence buzzed. “You’re prettier up close.”

Your breath hitched. His voice was a feather trailing your skin.

“I could read you like a book, Y/N. A naughty little book.” He smirked. “With pages stuck together.”

You gasped, and he leaned in, his voice barely audible.

“You want to see what kind of monster I am... but you’re scared that you'll like it.”

Your thighs clenched.

He watched the way your eyes flickered downward, then back up, amusement dancing on his lips.

“Say something,” he breathed. “Or I’ll say it for you.”

You bit your lip. “And what would you say?”

His mouth brushed your ear. “That you want me to touch you. That you’ve thought about it since you first saw me. That even now… you’re wondering how dangerous it’d be to let a killer press you against this wall and ruin you.”

You shuddered.

He wasn’t wrong.

Jungwon pulled back just slightly, his breath still teasing your cheek. “See? I don’t need knives to cut people open. I only need words.”

And then, as if to test how much power he had, he reached out, fingers brushing your wrist—gentle, electric, reverent. Your skin burned where he touched, and you froze.

"Do you want me to stop?” he whispered, but his fingers were already tracing up your arm, slowly, deliberately.

You didn’t speak.

You didn’t need to.

He saw it in your eyes.

The obsession wasn’t one-sided anymore.

And just like that, the line between sanity and surrender began to blur.

You were no longer the therapist.

You were his favorite puzzle.

And he was just getting started.

▄︻══━一 ♡

10:02 a.m. — Interview Room 3, Wing J

The metal door creaked open slowly. You stepped inside with your clipboard clutched against your chest, the fluorescent lights buzzing above like faint static against your already taut nerves.

And there he was.

Jungwon.

Seated casually on the edge of the worn-out couch, he looked far too comfortable for someone in a maximum-security mental facility. His wrists were cuffed in front of him, a security formality, but his posture said otherwise—elbows on his knees, back lazily curved, eyes focused like he was already three steps ahead of you.

“Morning, doc,” he purred, voice smooth and warm, almost lazy, like a cat stretching in the sun. “Miss me already?”

You ignored the flutter in your chest—the same one that had been haunting you at night, in the shower, in bed, in your damn dreams.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you replied coolly, sitting across from him and crossing your legs. “Let’s begin.”

He smirked. “So serious. Is it because of the dream you had last night?”

You stiffened. Briefly. Just enough for him to notice. He always noticed.

“Jungwon,” you began, maintaining a neutral tone, “today is a routine psychological check-in. I’ll be asking you a series of questions about your mental state, impulse control, and any recurring thoughts or behaviors.”

“Mm, you mean you’ll pretend I’m normal for twenty minutes so you can write a glowing report?” he said lightly, tilting his head. “Is that what we’re doing today?”

You jotted something on your clipboard, not looking at him. “Not everything is a performance.”

“Sure it is,” he countered. “You're performing now. All stiff and clinical. But underneath, you're still thinking about what I said yesterday, aren’t you?”

You snapped your eyes up to meet his, firm and unreadable. “Let’s begin with the basics.”

A pause. Then, a sigh from him—exaggerated, dramatic. “Fine. Hit me, doc.”

Question 1: Tell me about your past, who you are, who you were, what you were....

He looks up at you and sighs..."My name is Yang jungwon, I was a student in university studying as a lawyer...My first kill happend with my girlfriend years ago. We had a healthy relationship, rarely fought." He fixes his posture, as you write in your clipboard "I found her cheating on me, after 4 years of dating...with some disgusting pervert...who was my friend..and I was so confused, so angry to the point where I grabbed a chainsaw and cut open there heads. It w-was..." He sniffs softly, wiping his tears as he laughs " It felt great doc..but I couldn't do that to you...your a precious porcelain doll." You shift on your chair, scribbling down "Did it not ache, just one bit that you hurt them both..?" He shakes his head. "Alright next question"

Question 2: How have you been feeling since our last session?

He leaned back, pressing his shoulders against the wall behind him. “Like I’m still in hell, only this room smells better.”

“Be honest.”

“I am,” he said, eyes narrowing just slightly. “But if you’re asking if I’ve been hallucinating, or plotting my next kill, the answer is no. Boring, right?”

Question 3: Have you experienced any intrusive thoughts? Violent, obsessive, or otherwise inappropriate?

You scribbled something. He craned his neck, trying to peek.

A beat. He stared at you in silence, eyes unreadable. Then:

“Does imagining you bending over that desk in your office count?”

Your pen halted mid-sentence. You inhaled deeply through your nose. “This is a professional environment, Jungwon.”

“So is prison,” he mused. “But people still get off. You know that, right?”

You stood suddenly, your chair scraping loudly against the floor.

“Do you want to continue this interview or should I report non-compliance again?”

He raised his cuffed hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Don’t get all fiery on me. I was just being playful.” He grinned. “You did say this was a check-up. I’m checking up on your patience.”

You sat down slowly, teeth clenched. “Let’s continue.”

Question 4: Have you had any dreams lately that disturbed you

Something shifted in his face then. The smirk faded a little, and his brows knitted faintly.

“Yes.”

You glanced up. That was the first serious tone you’d heard from him all day. “Would you like to describe it?”

He hesitated. For the first time, he didn’t fill the silence with a joke or innuendo.

“You were in it,” he said finally.

You blinked. “Go on.”

“We were outside,” he murmured, voice lower now, almost hushed. “Not here. Somewhere open. Green. Trees. You were smiling. Not like now—not forced. It was… real.”

Your throat tightened.

“What happened in the dream?”

He looked away, jaw flexing.

“I killed someone. You saw it. But you didn’t run.” His voice dropped. “You touched my hand. There was blood on it. But you didn’t let go.”

Silence.

You swallowed. “That’s a very symbolic dream.”

He turned back to you, something raw in his eyes now. “No, it wasn’t. It was a want.”

“Want?”

“I want you to see me. The worst of me. And stay.”

His words pierced through the clinical barrier you’d spent months perfecting.

You tried to shift back into professionalism. “These are intense feelings, Jungwon. But it’s not uncommon for patients to project—”

“I’m not projecting,” he interrupted, voice calm. “You keep showing up in my mind even when I want you out. That means something.”

You clutched the clipboard tighter. “It means we need to adjust your medication dosage.”

But you both knew that was a lie.

He smirked again, but softer this time. “Keep lying to yourself, doc. Just remember… I know when you're dreaming about me.”

Your footsteps echoed in the hall, clipboard hugged against your chest again, like a shield. You’d hardly slept. You hadn’t dreamed last night—not in pictures. But in feeling, yes. That warm, sickening tension. That haunting smile. That want.

▄︻══━一 ♡

You’d been trained to maintain distance. You were trained to remain clinical, sterile. But training didn’t account for him.

You scanned your badge, heard the click of the lock disengage, and stepped in.

Jungwon was already seated—leaning back today, ankles crossed, fingers drumming against his own thigh rhythmically. His head turned at the sound of the door, and his lips curled into that maddening, feline grin.

“Morning, doc,” he said, voice casual but tinged with anticipation. “You look tense.”

You sat down across from him without a word, flipping your papers, trying to keep your eyes anywhere but his.

“That’s a new perfume,” he added, gaze sharpening like a blade. “Lavender and…” he sniffed lightly, closing his eyes, “Vanilla. Sweet.”

“Observation is not the same as insight,” you said flatly. “We’re here to talk about you, not your ability to stalk my scent.”

He tilted his head. “You don’t like being seen?”

“I don’t like being watched.”

“You chose the wrong patient for that, sweetheart.”

Your eyes snapped up, narrowing. “Call me that again and I’ll end the session.”

He gave a small, teasing pout. “Yes, Doctor. Please, don’t punish me.”

Question 5: Have you experienced any sudden emotional shifts since our last meeting?

You inhaled slowly. “Let’s proceed.”

“Define sudden.”

“Anything that felt overwhelming. Difficult to control.”

A silence settled between you. Then he leaned forward, elbows to knees, hands cuffed but fingers relaxed.

“I think about touching you,” he said plainly. “More than I should.”

You froze.

“I don’t want to hurt you. That’s what makes it weird.” He looked up at you, eyes serious now. “Because I want a lot of things, but violence is usually one of them. With you... I just want you soft.”

You blinked. Hard. “These are dangerous transference patterns, Jungwon. Not unusual for patients, but they’re not real. They’re reactions to control, attention, dependency—”

He cut in softly. “I fantasize about kissing your wrist while you hold your clipboard. Does that sound like dependency?”

Your heartbeat thundered. He knew it. You could see it in his grin, how he basked in the discomfort he caused. But behind it, you saw something new.

Not rage.

Not chaos.

Longing.

You straightened. “Do you regret your actions? The people you killed?”

His eyes flicked upward, sharp again. A defense. A shield.

“I regret being caught.”

“That’s not remorse.”

He studied you. “Would you want me to regret it?”

“Yes.”

“But you like me the way I am. That’s why you stay.”

You opened your mouth—then closed it.

He laughed quietly, shaking his head. “You think I don’t see it? You pause when I speak. You breathe differently when I say something filthy. You clench your fingers when I mention dreams. You stay.”

Your voice came out low, firmer than you expected. “I stay because I have to.”

He smiled darkly. “No, doc. You stay because some twisted part of you wants to see what happens if you don’t run.”

The silence was deafening.

Then:

“Let me ask you something.” His tone dropped, velvety and low. “If I hadn’t been arrested… if I were just a man you met at a bookstore or a street café… would you have let me kiss you?”

You stared at him. Jaw tight. Mind racing.

“That’s not a professional question.”

“But it’s an honest one.”

You hated that the answer wasn’t no.

You stood abruptly, the legs of your chair scraping again. “We’re done for today.”

Jungwon didn’t protest. He just looked up at you, calm, unreadable.

And then—he said it. Quiet. Soft. So quiet you almost didn’t hear it:

“I’ll wait for you. Even if I rot in this room forever, I’ll wait.”

You opened the door with shaking hands.

But as it closed behind you, your heart beat louder than your footsteps.

▄︻══━一 ♡

Monday night.

The sterile hallway hummed faintly under the buzz of overhead lights. Everyone else had clocked out, leaving you alone for your usual night shift. At least, you weren’t completely alone.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you raised your ID badge to the scanner. The red light on Jungwon’s reinforced door blinked green, and with a soft hiss, the lock disengaged.

You stepped inside.

Jungwon was already awake.

He sat on the edge of his cot, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on you like he’d been expecting this exact moment — like he’d known you’d come.

"Well, well," he said lowly, his voice dipped in honey and something much darker. “Couldn’t stay away from me, could you?”

You stayed by the door, fingers still curled around your ID. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But your voice lacked conviction. He noticed.

“Then why are you here? After hours. Alone.” He tilted his head, a dangerous smile spreading across his lips. “Unless you finally came to stop pretending.”

You swallowed hard. “I came to talk.”

He stood slowly, the faint stretch of his muscles under the thin white T-shirt making your breath catch. You could feel his presence before he even crossed the room — like something heavy and invisible pressing into your chest.

“Liar,” he whispered, now standing mere inches away. “You came to feel something.”

He reached out, not touching, just hovering — his fingers stopping just short of your waist, your hip, your cheek. “I can give that to you. All that pent-up curiosity you try to ignore. You want danger, don’t you?”

You hated that your breath hitched. Hated how his voice curled around your thoughts like smoke, choking reason.

“I want you to stop playing with me,” you said quietly.

He laughed — soft, unhinged, gorgeous. “I am playing with you. You’re just finally starting to like it.”

You backed up instinctively, but his hand shot out and caught your wrist, firm but not painful. His grip was heated — not in the way a flame is, but like a fever. Like obsession.

He walked you backward slowly until your back bumped against the desk. Cold steel met your lower spine.

“Jungwon—”

“You don’t say my name like that unless you want me to ruin you,” he said, eyes blazing. “So which is it?”

Your heart pounded so loud, you were sure he could hear it.

He leaned down, mouth by your ear. “Tell me to stop. Just say it.”

But you didn’t. Couldn’t.

Your silence was a yes.

In one swift motion, he spun you around, hands braced against the desk. The metal was icy under your palms as his body pressed flush behind you, heat and danger radiating from him like a second skin.

“Look at you,” he murmured, lips brushing the back of your neck. “So obedient now. All I had to do was wait.”

His hands moved up your waist, not groping — claiming. You gasped when his mouth found the space between your neck and shoulder, biting just hard enough to make your knees weaken.

“You’re not scared of me,” he breathed against your skin. “You should be. I’ve done terrible things.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“And you still came.”

His voice turned gravelly, dark with hunger and something dangerously close to worship.

“You’re mine now. You knew it from the second you opened that door.”

▄︻══━一 ♡

The room was quiet. Too quiet.

The door clicked shut behind you, but you didn’t hear it — not with the way Jungwon’s hands were sliding down your arms, pinning your wrists against the desk, and his breath was fanning over your throat like a threat wrapped in silk.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine. “Is it fear, or something else?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your mouth was slightly parted, breath caught halfway to a gasp, heart pounding against your ribs like a warning you weren’t listening to.

He dipped his head, lips brushing the column of your neck. “You came to me. Remember that.”

And then his teeth sank in — not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to make you moan involuntarily.

“You make the softest sounds when you’re cornered,” he whispered against your pulse. “It makes me wonder what you’d sound like… under me.”

Your knees almost buckled, but he was already moving, lifting you with terrifying ease and placing you on his desk. Cold metal bit into your thighs through your uniform as he stepped between your legs, forcing them apart with just a nudge of his knee.

“You wore this tonight?” His fingers ghosted the hem of your shirt. “Did you think I wouldn’t notice how tight it is on you?”

“I didn’t dress for you,” you shot back, trying for confidence. It only made him grin wider — like a predator humoring its prey.

“You only dress for me. You just don’t know it yet.”

Then he leaned in and kissed you.

No hesitation. No buildup. Just claiming.

His mouth was hot, wild, consuming yours with a kind of hunger that made your nails dig into the edge of the desk. You kissed him back, feverish, desperate, tasting danger on his tongue and craving it more.

One hand slid to your throat — not squeezing, just resting there, a silent threat that made your breath catch. His other hand gripped your waist, pulling you flush against him so you could feel the evidence of everything he’d been holding back.

“You’re trembling again,” he whispered against your lips.

“You’re—” you gasped as his hand slid under your shirt, fingers dragging over your skin like fire, “—out of your mind.”

“That’s the fun part.”

He tugged your shirt up slowly, kissing every inch of skin he revealed — sharp bites followed by hot, open-mouthed kisses that had you gripping his shoulders to stay upright. His mouth found the space just below your ribs, tongue flicking, teasing, cruel and worshipful all at once.

“Do you feel this?” he growled, pressing you back onto the desk with one hand as he hovered over you. “This madness between us?”

You nodded helplessly, dazed and burning. You’d stopped pretending you could resist somewhere between the moment he pinned your wrists and the way he was now dragging his lips along your stomach like you were sacred and sinful all at once.

“I’ve killed for less than this,” he whispered against your skin.

“And yet… I’d never hurt you.”

There was something terrifying about that vow — the way it sounded like obsession disguised as affection. Possession wrapped in silk.

And it made you wetter than you wanted to admit.

He hovered above you, pupils blown wide, hair messy from your fingers, lips swollen from how hard you kissed him.

“If I taste you now,” he said darkly, “you won’t make it to the end of your shift.”

You bit your lip.

And smiled.

“Then don’t stop.”

▄︻══━一 ♡

His smirk faltered the second you whispered, “Then don’t stop.”

And just like that, control snapped.

Jungwon's hands gripped your thighs hard, pulling you forward so fast your breath hitched. Your lower back grazed the cold desk, your legs draped around his waist now, caging him in just as much as he caged you.

“You don’t get to say things like that,” he growled, voice shaking with restraint, “unless you’re ready to be ruined.”

Your response was wordless — a tilt of your hips, your fingers digging into his chest, nails dragging over muscle like you needed to leave marks or you'd forget this was real. He leaned down, capturing your lips again — slower this time, more deliberate, like he was memorizing the taste of your surrender.

His hands were everywhere. Palming your waist, lifting your shirt fully off. His mouth followed every inch of exposed skin — tongue laving over the swell of your chest, down your ribs, stopping at the waistband of your pants.

He glanced up, wild eyes flickering with hunger.

“Take these off,” he ordered roughly. “Now.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You’d never undressed that quickly in your life — not with that gaze devouring you like a starving man watching his last meal undress. The second you leaned back against the cold desk, now stripped from the waist down, he groaned low in his throat.

“Fuck… you’re soaked,” he muttered, his thumb grazing the inside of your thigh before slipping dangerously close to where you ached the most. “All this for me?”

Your breath stuttered. “Yes.”

The word made him pause. He looked at you like he wanted to tear you apart and cradle you at the same time.

"Say it again."

“Yes, Jungwon. All for you.”

A dark, pleased sound left his lips — something between a laugh and a growl — and then he dropped to his knees.

On. His. Fucking. Knees.

The padded floor muffled the sound, but not the impact. The air itself shifted as his mouth met your inner thigh, biting and kissing, making your legs twitch and your stomach coil tight with want. His hands pinned your hips, keeping you from writhing away as his tongue finally dipped down — hot, slow, devastating.

He moaned when he tasted you.

You clamped your hand over your mouth, back arching, toes curling as he buried himself in you like a man obsessed. And he was. Every flick of his tongue, every groan vibrating against your heat, said the same thing: you belonged to him now.

“Don’t hide those sounds,” he said hoarsely, pulling back just enough to look up at you. His lips were glossy, eyes burning. “Let them echo. I want this whole damn facility to know who makes you fall apart.”

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he went back in — rougher this time, messier, as though he was starving for every drop of you.

You were already shaking when he stood again.

He unbuckled his own pants with one hand, the other still gripping your thigh like a vice. When he pressed the tip of himself against your entrance, your breath hitched.

He paused — barely — mouth brushing your cheek.

“This is the point of no return,” he whispered. “Say the word, and I’ll stop.”

But you didn’t.

You pulled him closer.

And with a harsh breath, he pushed in — deep, slow, almost reverent.

You both gasped.

He was thick, hot, stretching you in a way that bordered on pain — but the pleasure eclipsed it, turning your mind into static. His grip on you tightened as he bottomed out, head buried in the crook of your neck.

“Fuck… you feel like sin,” he rasped. “And I want to drown in it.”

His pace started slow, deliberate — but didn’t stay that way.

The moment he felt how tightly you clenched around him, how desperately your hands clawed at his back, he snapped.

He began to thrust — hard and deep, the desk rocking under you, metal legs squeaking against the tile. You could barely breathe between gasps and cries, every movement sending shockwaves through your body.

Jungwon didn’t speak much now — only growls, curses, and your name, spat out like a prayer on his tongue.

You didn’t last long. Neither did he.

When your walls fluttered and clenched around him, trembling on the edge of breaking, he lost control completely.

“You're mine,” he snarled against your mouth as you shattered beneath him. “Mine, mine, mine—”

He followed you seconds later, buried deep inside you, his entire body tensing as he spilled himself with a low, broken groan.

The air turned thick with heat and silence.

And for a long moment, you just stayed there — tangled, breathless, completely undone.

▄︻══━一 ♡

Since that day, you went home, full and hot of his cum, still feeling his hands and hot touch in you. You slept in your bed with guilt, biting your lip and thinking that everything was going to end, you regretted it...everything...you closed your eyes and went to sleep, knowing that in the end..this was the worst and that you would ever do it again.....Or so you thought?

Tag list -__-> @cherry012309 if you'd like to be tagged in future fics be sure to tell me!

[kxsagi]

“𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬”

a/n: title has a double meaning :p 

like yes, dante is a demon hunter that fights demons from hell, but he also is fighting the demons in his head because he’s not over you, his ex, at all. 

(artist is Warsong_zhange on X)

being a demon hunter meant dante had seen some pretty horrifying things – limbs torn off, hell gates opening in the middle of suburban malls, one time a demon that looked suspiciously like his landlord. but nothing, nothing, came close to the horror of realizing he still wasn’t over you. 

and yeah, that sounded dramatic, but so was he. sue him. 

he was currently slicing through a hellspawn with rebellion, blood and black goo flying everywhere, but all he could think about was how you used to get mad when he came home tracking demon guts across your nice rug. 

“you have two feet, dante. two!” 

“yeah, and they both kicked ass today.” 

“you’re sleeping on the couch.” 

“... that’s fair.” 

gosh, he missed that couch. not because it was comfortable (it wasn’t), but because you were on it. in a hoodie three sizes too big, hair a mess, and snuggled up against him after cleaning his dirty blood-stained clothes. 

now? his clothes were still stained with demon blood. but he had no hoodie-wearing ex to nag him about disinfectant or maybe not fighting a lava demon with a hangover next time. 

he slammed the last demon’s head into the pavement with a grunt, letting out a breath. the alley was quiet again, save for the soft squelch of goo under his boots. 

“great,” he muttered. “another tuesday night and i’m talking to myself like a lunatic.” 

he checked his phone. no new texts. no calls. not even spam. 

romantic, huh? 

dante shook his head. he knew he was a mess. 

not like “oh, some paperwork’s out of order” kind of mess. more like “the building’s on fire, there’s a weird creature sleeping on the roof, and uh oh, i’m using the microwave to dry my socks again” kind of mess. 

trish had stopped by earlier and taken one look at him slumped over his desk with an energy drink in one hand and a half-eaten slice of pizza on his face before saying, “you look like if insomnia had a kid with bad decisions.” 

accurate. 

he hadn’t really slept since you left. sure, he could pass out after a rough mission, but the dreams were hell. either he dreamed of demons ripping through the city, or worse, dreamed of you. 

you, in his arms. you, calling him an idiot. you, stealing his coat and insisting it was now yours “legally.” 

you, walking out the door because he couldn’t stop shutting down every time you tried to love him properly. 

dante wasn’t good at feelings. he was good at fighting, flirting, and ordering pizza. he was less good at not being emotionally constipated. but hey, he was working on it. kind of. 

he sat back, stretched, and cracked his neck. then promptly groaned because apparently he was twenty-something with the spine of a boomer. 

“man, maybe i’m the demon,” he muttered, rubbing his back. “i mean i know i am, but metaphorically.” 

he picked up a picture frame that had somehow survived the chaos. it was you. holding his sword. upside down. grinning like a gremlin. you’d written ‘guess i’m the real demon hunter now, loser’ on the back. 

he stared at it for a long time. then he said, out loud, “i hope you’re doing okay, wherever you are. and also, i hope you haven’t replaced me with a boring guy named ‘todd’ who doesn’t know how to hold a sword.” 

the next morning, he got a call from lucia. demon outbreak near fortuna. ruins. weird spikes in energy. usual deal. 

he said yes immediately. not because he wanted to save the world or anything noble like that. mostly because he needed a distraction from the fact that he tried to cuddle a pillow last night and whispered “you smell like her” to it (which he would be taking to his grave). 

but it was unsuccessful as you still stayed rent-free in his head, even when the ruins were cold and dramatic and full of fog. perfect date night setting, honestly. just needed a bottle of wine and someone to scream: “THIS ISN’T EVEN MY FINAL FORM!” 

dante wandered through, sword slung over his shoulder, humming something off-key. 

he’d just sliced through a hellhound when he heard a voice. a familiar one. a voice that made every single hair on his neck stand up and also reminded him of the time he spilled coffee on your favorite white shirt and tried to blame it on a poltergeist. 

“hold the scanner steady,” your voice rang. “you’re shaking like a chihuahua on espresso.” 

dante froze. peeked around the pillar. and there you were. glasses on. gloves off. scolding some poor assistant. clipboard in hand. 

you looked good. too good. offensively good. like, “he might actually throw himself into a demon pit out of spite” good. 

and worst of all? you were smiling. 

he ducked back behind the pillar like a man who’d just seen his ex and remembered he hadn’t washed his hair in three days. which he hadn’t. 

“okay, dante,” he whispered to himself. “you’ve fought literal satan. you can say hi to your ex without having a breakdown.” 

lies. 

but he squared his shoulders, walked up like nothing was wrong, and casually said: “so… this is where you’ve been hiding, huh?” 

you blinked. turned. stared. and then said, “are you wearing two different boots?” 

he looked down. “... no,” he lied. 

you raised an eyebrow. “left one has pizza sauce on it.” 

“okay, maybe yes.” 

your eyes scanned him. he looked like a disaster. like the human embodiment of “i miss my girlfriend and i also haven't done laundry in a week.” 

you crossed your arms. “i thought you were dead.” 

“nah. just emotionally unavailable.” 

you snorted. and gosh, it went straight to his heart like a dagger. 

“what are you doing here?” you asked, voice softening. 

“same thing as you, i guess. fighting demons. both in reality and in my head. real normal.” 

you hesitated. “i didn’t think you’d show your face around here again.” 

he scratched the back of his neck. “was kinda hoping to accidentally bump into you, actually.” 

your eyebrows shot up. “oh my gosh,” you said. “did you stalk me?” 

“no! well, okay, yes, but not like creepy stalk. like romantic movie stalk. like ‘serendipity,’ but with more blood.” 

“... that’s somehow worse.” 

he smiled, crooked and boyish. “i missed you.” 

you inhaled sharply. and then, after a long, painful pause, you said, “i missed you too, idiot.” 

his heart actually did a little flip. a stupid, dramatic flip. 

“but,” you added, “you still owe me an apology.” 

he stepped closer. “i’m sorry,” he said. “for being a dumbass. for shutting you out. for thinking i could fight demons with a chainsaw sword and not deal with the ones in my chest.” 

you blinked. 

“... okay, wow,” you said. “who are you and what have you done with my emotionally illiterate ex?” 

“therapy,” he said proudly. “well, unofficial therapy. i yelled at a mirror for two hours and then got stabbed by a demon. character growth.” 

you laughed. it echoed through the ruins. 

and for the first time in months, dante felt something inside him uncoil. lighten. 

he didn’t know what would happen next. maybe you’d get dinner. maybe you’d punch him in the face. maybe both. 

but you were here. and so was he. still fighting demons. still kind of in love. 

and maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance for them to stop fighting each other. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[octuscle]

William liked going to the gym late. He was not a model athlete. But he wanted to get in shape. And to avoid embarrassing himself, he liked to train in the hour before the gym closed. He didn't usually get out of the office much earlier than 8 p.m. anyway, so the question of training earlier didn't usually arise anyway.

It was 9:45 pm. The training area would close in fifteen minutes, leaving him half an hour to shower and leave the building. Chris at the counter had already made sure that he could do the checkout; William had already seen the last member leave 20 minutes ago. It was a hot summer evening, so people certainly had better things to do than stand on the cross-trainer or lift weights.

William stood on the treadmill for another 10 minutes, then that should be enough for today. He disinfected the equipment he had used, threw the towels in the laundry basket and headed for the changing rooms. As expected, everything was empty and quiet. There weren't even any footprints in the shower to indicate a recent guest. William showered, washed his hair, shaved and blow-dried his blond locks. If he shaved in the evening, he didn't have to do it in the morning. He didn't have much of a beard, which saved precious time.

With the shower towel around his hips, he went back to his locker. And in front of it were his sneakers. It couldn't have been long ago that someone had wanked on them. The sperm was still white and solid. William's heart was beating wildly. There was hardly ever anything left lying around in his high-class gym. The members were all as tidy as he was. In the past, when he had trained on the sports campus of his university, there had always been socks or jockstraps lying around somewhere in the evening. William had developed a formal fetish for the things he wore. Those shoes, those socks, that puddle of cum: it was like hitting the jackpot!

William looked around. He was alone. He hesitated for a split second. And put on the socks and the shoes. It looked silly with his suit. The shoes were a loose size 13, far too big for him. But it felt so good. He put his suit shoes and black knee socks in his gym bag and walked as casually as he could towards the exit. “Hey William, wait!” Chris called after him. Bloody hell! "The gate to the underground parking garage is broken. I'm very sorry, but you'll have to leave your car here today." William breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God nothing about the shoes, Chris hadn't noticed them. There was thunder outside. “Okay, will you call me a cab, please?” "Not a chance, William, I've already tried for the last customer and for myself too. There's no cab available because of the thunderstorm and a pop concert outside the soccer stadium. Where do you have to go?" William had just moved to Cologne. Brüsseler Platz, a hip area, perfect for an up-and-coming lawyer like him. Chris told him it was no problem, just get off at the Heumarkt stop, get on line 1, three stops to Moltkestraße and he'd be home. Unfortunately, he wouldn't have an umbrella for him. “At least I have shoes on that can withstand the rain,” William thought with a grin.

Chris hadn't told him that there was a line 1 in the direction of his home and one in the other direction. William was not familiar with public transport. As the streetcar crossed the Rhine to thunder and lightning in the pouring rain, he realized that something was wrong. He was on the wrong streetcar. And damn it, his laptop bag was still in his Porsche and it was in the blocked underground parking garage. Damn it, hopefully Chris was still there. He dialed the reception number. Only the answering machine left. Did he have Chris's number? Of course, sometimes the two of them trained together. Or arranged to meet up to play soccer or something. The two of them were good buddies. “Yo, Liam, longing for me again?” “Joker,” William replied. “I have to go back to the parking garage, I've got my...” Wait. What had he forgotten... Something he needed tomorrow... Yeah, right, he'd bought protein powder. It was still in his Dodge RAM. “I left my supplement purchase in the car.” "Dude, I'm sorry. I'm halfway home already. It'll have to wait until tomorrow." Liam surveyed the supplies at home. There should still be enough for dinner and breakfast. "Okay, have a nice evening. See you around!" "You bet I will. Get home safely in this awful weather!" Liam rummaged in the pockets of his jogging bottoms. Two more stops and he was almost home in Kalk. Where was his cursed lighter? He fumbled in his Alpha bomber jacket. Why was it in the inside pocket, he never put it there. He unzipped the zipper. Shit, why was he wearing a dress shirt?

When he came out of the subway, the rain had stopped. It had become much colder. Liam closed his jacket again. The tank top he was wearing underneath was still damp from sweat. He didn't need a cold by any stretch of the imagination. He lit a cigarette. It was almost 11 pm. The evening was still young. Far too early to go to bed. He didn't have to be on shift until 2:30 pm tomorrow. Plenty of time to have another beer and maybe fill an ass with his drool. The light was still on at his buddy Murat's. He rang the doorbell and grinned into the intercom camera. "Dude, come on down. I'm thirsty and ratty." “Give me two minutes,” his buddy replied.

Pic of William's Jackpot found @chavbank

Liam and more hot Cologne men @muratsimsekk

[s2owqs]

💭 Headcanon: He's not asking, he's just nearby

You returned late.

Too late.

Your mission had turned into something far worse than anyone had anticipated. Ambushed. Outnumbered. You managed to complete the objective, but it came at a cost. Bruised ribs, a fractured arm, deep cuts across your back and legs. But none of that hurt as much as the look Sasuke gave you when you limped through the village gates.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t scold. Didn’t ask questions.

He just appeared in front of you, silent and still as shadow, eyes narrowing at the sight of the blood soaking through your flak jacket. You expected a sarcastic comment, maybe even cold anger. Instead, he took the scroll from your hands, handed it wordlessly to the nearest medic, then picked you up into his arms without a word.

You tried to protest — weakly.

“I can walk.”

“No, you can’t,” he said softly. And that was the end of it.

He carried you all the way home.

There, he stripped away your ruined gear with care, his hands unusually gentle, unusually quiet. He wasn’t avoiding your gaze — but he wasn’t meeting it either. You watched him move with clinical focus, disinfecting wounds, bandaging cuts with precise, quick fingers. There was tension in his jaw. In his silence.

You tried to break it.

“...I’ve had worse,” you said lightly, half-laughing.

He didn’t answer. Just placed a hand on your shoulder — steady, grounding — and said, “Sleep.”

You didn't fight him anymore. Exhaustion took over. Somewhere between the ache in your chest and the warmth of the blankets, you drifted off.

When you woke, it was dark. And he was still there.

Sitting beside your bed, back against the wall, arms crossed, watching the door like a sentinel.

You stirred, your throat dry. “Sasuke?”

He turned his head. Noticed you were awake. Got up and quietly poured a cup of water, holding it to your lips as you drank.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

He didn’t reply — only sat back down. His eyes didn’t leave you.

After a while, you said, “You’re not going to sleep?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He was quiet for so long you thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, finally:

“Because I thought you wouldn’t come back.”

Something in your chest twisted.

You reached out, weakly, and he took your hand without hesitation — holding it as if it tethered him to something real. Something fragile. Something he couldn’t bear to lose.

“I’m here,” you whispered.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment. Then opened them, gaze sharp and steady again.

“I’m staying.”

You nodded. “Good. Stay.”

He didn’t move closer. Didn’t kiss your forehead or stroke your hair. That wasn’t Sasuke.

But he laid down beside you, his hand still holding yours. As if to say — if you drift again, I’m going with you.

And that was enough.

[familiarscars]

Drive You Insane | Noah Sebastian 04

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Noah Sebastian X psychiatrist!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. A mysterious new patient arrives at the Grimshade sanatorium and you have been tasked with taking care of his case.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). disturbing environment, violence, unconventional treatments, manipulation, questionable relationships, explicit sex and profanity.

I really need your reblog! On Tumblr, the content reaches more views and is delivered more through reblog and I really wanted more people to be able to read what I write. I'm counting on you from now on, ok?

A tour through the Hidden.

How exciting.

On your activity schedule, a visit to the red-wristband patients first thing in the morning—before the sky had fully lit up—was the first item on the list. They rarely left the Hidden due to the high level of risk involved in being in the same environment as them. And, of course, you had already experienced firsthand what it was like to deal with one in your office recently when you had to attend to Tom Harrow.

Even if you were surrounded by a legion of guards, the feeling would be the same as walking through those rusted gates that creaked as they opened. The darkness that dominated almost caused a strange sensation, with flickering spots before your eyes. The lighting in the Hidden was scarce, and the dim, flickering light from the cells forced you to strain your glasses.

You thought about how Travis was a rather questionable friend, considering he didn’t even offer support or company during the tour—he simply wished you “good luck” and left for his morning walk. Over the past few days, you had gotten to know more about your colleague. He wasn’t the helpful type, nor was he empathetic, no matter what kind of relationship he had with another person.

Not that you expected anything from him after you’d slept together that one night after happy hour—especially since you suspected he didn’t even remember, given how little importance he seemed to give the moment—but you had at least hoped he would be less… of an asshole.

Honestly, you even found him a little mysterious beneath that impeccable scowl he carried most of the time. Always clean clothes, neatly combed blond hair, a perfectly aligned smile, and flawless diction, never hesitating over a single word. He never seemed unsure about anything. On the contrary, Rune exuded an unshakable confidence, something you could hear in the tone of his voice and see in the way his posture was always elegantly upright.

And so, he planted a seed of doubt in your mind.

Who was Dr. Travis Rune?

Your seemingly perfect, routine-obsessed colleague who didn’t stay in the staff quarters every night. If his father didn’t approve of his chosen profession, then he didn’t live on the island. So where did he stay when he wasn’t sleeping at Grimshade?

The stench of old disinfectant and mildew clung to your throat as you snapped back to reality. Your feet stepped onto the cold, cracked floor of the Hidden, and the sound of your own breathing felt out of place, muffled by the screams echoing through the corridors like the wails of a personal hell.

The lights flickered from the high ceiling, buzzing like flies over rotting flesh, casting erratic shadows that made everything seem even more distorted. The walls were a filthy white, peeling in several places, revealing concrete stained with rust—and something far too dark for you to want to identify. With every step, your shoulders tensed further, as if the oppressive atmosphere of screams and grinding teeth was coiling around your body.

The patients were there, locked in their narrow cells with thick, rusted bars. Some rocked back and forth, staring into nothing with glazed eyes. Others followed you with hollow gazes, whispering fragmented words, laced with something that burrowed under your skin like invisible splinters.

“I see you…” one of them murmured, voice thin and sharp like a knife scraping against glass.

Your hands tingled. Your stomach turned.

Another laughed—a hoarse, broken sound—as pale fingers stretched out between the bars.

“You smell like blood…”

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving, ignoring the cold wave that crawled down your spine. With every step, the whispers grew, indecipherable phrases, words spat into the air, as if the very ward was trying to consume you.

And then, you stopped.

Right in front of his cell.

Tom Harrow.

Your body tensed before you even forced yourself to look.

The memories of your last encounter hit like a punch. The way he watched you during the session, as if stripping you with his eyes. The way his mouth shaped every filthy word, every malicious insinuation, trying to unnerve you. The anger in his lips when he realized you wouldn’t give him the control he craved.

But now… now you were here, frozen.

And he knew it.

“Well, well… look who came to visit.”

His voice oozed through the bars like rotten honey—thick, immersive, dripping with a slow drawl that seemed to savor your presence.

You swallowed down the acidic taste in your throat, but said nothing.

Tom rose from the bed with a lazy movement, like a predator stretching before the hunt. The flickering light illuminated his pale face, the deep-set eyes gleaming with something that made you want to run. He smiled. A slow, arrogant smile that knew exactly the effect it had.

“Did you miss me, doctor?” He tilted his head to the side, fingers dragging along the bars. “That heat on your skin? That shiver?”

Your lungs tightened.

“That chill down your spine that wouldn’t let you sleep after our last conversation…”

You wanted to move. You needed to move. But his words held you in place.

“I bet you dreamed about me.”

The distant screams blended with the sound of your own blood pounding in your ears. The air in the Hidden was suffocating, viscous, and you could feel his eyes crawling over your skin, sensing every minuscule detail of your reaction.

“I wonder…” He slid his tongue across his lips, letting the sentence hang in the air like a venomous invitation. “What exactly did you feel?”

The floor seemed to sink beneath your feet.

And still, you didn’t move.

Tom let out a low, drawn-out laugh, as if relishing your stillness. He stepped closer to the bars, long fingers curling around the cold metal, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. His eyes were locked onto you—heavy, invasive, drinking in every tiny reaction.

“You’re trembling, sweetheart.” His voice was sweet poison, slipping out lazily. “Were you like this last time? When you lay in bed, when you closed your eyes and tried to forget what I said?”

You tasted the bitterness of your own fear in your throat.

“Tell me… was it quick? Or did you lie there, in the darkness, feeling your breath hitch, your body heat up, your mind drifting back to me as your hands slid between your legs?”

Your stomach twisted.

He laughed, eyes narrowing in sheer amusement.

“Ah… that’s it, isn’t it?” He whispered, the words laced with something close to a moan, like he was sharing a dirty secret. “That feeling of your skin prickling, heat spreading, that tightness between your thighs.”

You clenched your fists, nails digging into your palm. No. You wouldn’t react.

But he knew you were listening. He knew that, no matter how hard you fought it, his words were already inside you.

“Tell me, did you try to resist? Or did you give in? Let your mind play a little… let your fingers explore that tight little pussy of yours?” He paused, letting the word drip from his lips like an unwanted touch. “You know, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it… I imagine it swallowing my cock every single day, doctor.”

A wave of nausea crashed through you.

His smile widened, something wicked and triumphant glinting in his eyes.

“I bet you tried to convince yourself it was hate.” He knocked his head lightly against the bars, closing his eyes for a second, inhaling the air like he could breathe you in. “But deep down… you liked what I said. Sluts like you always do.”

You took a step back.

He moved instantly, pressing closer to the bars, shoulders tense, his expression shifting into something animalistic.

“That’s it… back away. Pretend you’re running.” His tongue swept over his cracked lips. “Don’t forget—that’s what I love most in a woman, doctor. The ones who resist.”

The corridor around you felt like it was shrinking. The Hidden was breathing around you, pressing closer, heavier, suffocating with every second. The screams in the distance seemed too far away, too muffled, like the world had narrowed down to just his cell. Just him.

And you couldn’t move when something warm and viscous splattered onto your hand.

Your eyes widened, needing to confirm it was real—that on the back of your hand, seeping from the pocket of your coat, was a splatter of Tom Harrow’s semen.

While he had been saying those vile things, he had been masturbating in front of you.

Your mind spun, confusion tangling with shock as your gaze locked onto the stain on your skin. The guards rushed toward his cell, and the only thing you managed to do was stumble backward, desperate to get away from that place as fast as possible.

Your ragged breathing quickened as your back collided with something firm in your frantic attempt to escape. Like an unyielding concrete statue, he halted your steps in place, and instinctively, your eyes lifted—meeting Noah’s apathetic face, his expression undoubtedly irritated by you crashing into him.

The thought that he might have seen what that man had just done sent a wave of automatic heat rushing to your face, and something damp welled up in your tear ducts. Shame coiled inside you, making you feel filthy, unprofessional—completely exposed in front of a patient like him.

And then, he did something entirely unexpected.

Without saying a single word—obviously—Noah wrapped his hand around your right wrist and wiped the back of your hand with his own shirt.

Stunned, you let him do as he pleased. He seemed to… want to comfort you through an act of service? This wasn’t the time for analysis. Not when your skin burned from his touch, as if Noah carried embers between his fingers.

Expressionless, still not releasing your wrist, he guided you slowly toward the gates of the Hidden. The guards were too occupied with restraining Tom’s outburst to notice your absence—nor the fact that you were being escorted by the most dangerous patient in the custody ward.

When you reached the exit, Noah let go. The cold air rushed in to replace the warmth he had held onto so firmly as he led you out of that wretched place.

You couldn’t thank him for what he did.

You couldn’t look at him again.

You couldn’t cling to those fleeting sensations, hoarding the comfort of this moment for the days when agony would come.

Noah turned his back and shut the gates of the Hidden, leaving you on the other side.

"Of course, Mom, I couldn’t be better!" you said, holding the phone with a grimace that didn’t match the tone of your voice.

"I’ve known you since you were a child, girl! You came out of me, and I know when something is wrong!" your mother said, hardening her tone.

"I’m just tired and really eager to find a better job."

"We warned you that dealing with so many lunatics wouldn’t be good for you, sweetheart. You were never all that right in the head yourself… I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it’s time to come home and find something more normal to do." she threw out, alarmed. "I won’t accept you ending up as a patient in that madhouse! Visiting you in Grimshade would be a disaster for our finances."

"Thanks for your concern! Don’t worry, I’ll keep your bank account intact." Impatient, you slammed the phone onto the receiver, hearing murmurs of joy from the never-ending line behind you.

"Mom missing you?" Rune teased, nudging your arm lightly as he adjusted his sunglasses.

"Despite her progress in therapy, her narcissistic traits always find a way to surface. But overall, she’s a good mom."

Returning to administration still shaken, the first thing you did was take a shower, washing away any lingering trace of the Hidden from your skin. Travis suggested you accompany him into town as a distraction, and you agreed.

A little fresh air actually did you some good. The town had little transportation movement, keeping the sky clear and the air breathable. The people weren’t as welcoming as one might expect from such a small Victorian-style place, but maybe that was your fault for expecting otherwise. They were direct, rarely using words of gratitude, and you figured their curt manner must have been cultural.

"It’s not exactly narcissism if it’s a mother. Seems more like something that comes with childbirth and follows them for the rest of their lives," he commented, not exactly offering comfort.

"An interesting analysis, Dr. Rune…" You arched your lips in a brief smile before adding, "Did your narcissistic mother also try to choose your profession like she picked your girlfriends until you turned eighteen?"

"My mother was always easygoing—submissive, even—but easygoing. That title belongs only to my father."

"You rarely talk about your parents. Do they live on the island?"

"Yes, we’re from here." He responded without enthusiasm, twirling his keys around his index finger.

"And you don’t visit them when you come to town?"

"Homesickness isn’t something I tend to suffer from."

From the side, you glanced at his unchanged expression, and for a moment, you almost felt like he was throwing a jab at you for coming into town just to call your mother.

Yeah, despite the narcissism, she was still your mom, and you two got along. Maybe Rune thought you were a little naïve.

Or maybe his parents were simply people he had no desire to be around, no matter how strong their personalities were.

"If you’re from here, then you studied at the only university in town," you concluded, piecing together the obvious but realizing that learning more about him was helping push your mind away from the previous chaos. "So you studied with Noah. His file says he was in medical school."

As always, mentioning Noah made Travis roll his eyes, especially since this was happening outside the asylum. He seemed determined to spend the afternoon eating ice cream and feeding birds, ignoring whatever else was going on.

"Yeah, I was about to graduate when we had a few classes together," he replied, carefully eyeing the ice cream flavors displayed in the glass case. "Chocolate and mint, please!"

"So your issue with him started at university?"

"At university, I didn’t even know he existed. Everyone lived in their own little bubble. Who would’ve thought he’d end up becoming my patient, huh?"

"That’s quite the coincidence…" you murmured, lightly biting your lower lip. "I’d even say it’s convenient."

Rune took the ice cream the friendly attendant handed him over the glass counter and—showing off his impeccable manners—walked straight to the nearest available table without offering you anything. You followed him and took the seat across from him.

"Are you implying that I made Noah my patient for personal gain? Or maybe as revenge for my ‘grudge,’ since, from day one, you’ve assumed that just because I treat him like any other patient?" he asked mockingly, holding the spoon between his teeth.

"I heard his parents have a lot of money and that he has a certain… protection. The kind that got him into the asylum instead of serving a prison sentence."

"And what does that have to do with me?" He shrugged. "Hate to disappoint you after all your investigative effort, but my salary hasn’t changed a cent since he arrived. I don’t need to protect him or make his life harder. To me, he’s just another file, another patient whose brain will be fried by meds and electroshock therapy… That is, if he doesn’t end up offing himself first."

"I don’t think it’s ethical of you to talk like that."

"You wanted to know, and I simply answered, doctor. And I believe that’s the most you’ll get out of this story that intrigues you so much. But if you’ll take some advice, I’d suggest you find another hobby… Maybe work, what do you think?"

Your neck prickled, and your fists clenched on the table.

"As punishment for this unpleasant conversation, you’re paying the bill," Travis announced before getting up and leaving the ice cream shop.

You blinked a few times, processing his audacity.

Bastard.

On the way back to the asylum, you opted for silence. After what happened at the ice cream shop, the ideal thing would have been to refuse Travis’s ride, but what other choice did you have? The next taxi wouldn’t pass for hours, and by then, the sky would likely be dark. You weren’t about to test your luck wandering around an unfamiliar place at night.

Travis turned on the radio, the sound crackling slightly as they climbed the hill, getting farther from civilization. The song playing sounded like a creepy opera or something you couldn’t quite place, but listening to Dr. Rune hum along in his undisturbed peace as he turned the steering wheel—

It bothered you.

It bothered you a lot.

The night at Grimshade was never truly silent, but the sound that woke you cut through the air like a blade. A muffled, deep, hollow thud—like something heavy hitting the ground.

Your eyes snapped open, your heart already slamming against your ribs. For a moment, you just lay there, listening to nothing but your own breathing and the distant ticking of some old clock. Maybe it was just another one of the strange noises that place emitted all the time—old pipes, doors creaking under the whim of the wind.

But then came another sound. Lower this time, a rough scraping, like something being dragged.

A shiver ran down your spine, and you felt the weight of fear settle onto your shoulders.

You hesitated. But you couldn't ignore the urgency swelling inside you.

With a sudden jolt, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed, bare feet meeting the cold floor. The thin nightgown clung to your skin, still warm from the bath, but the hallway’s chill wrapped around you like a warning.

You followed your instincts.

The asylum looked different at night. The emptiness of the corridors was suffocating, as if the walls were closing in, swallowing every sound, every breath. The dim light flickered, casting long shadows that seemed to shift on their own. Each step echoed against the floor, a muffled whisper that trailed behind you.

The air was thick.

Wrong.

Your feet carried you through the garden, where the icy wind brought the scent of damp earth and something else—something metallic, which your mind refused to name.

The Hidden’s gate was slightly ajar.

Your body locked up.

It was like reliving the horror from hours ago, Tom Harrow’s voice still clinging to your skin like a filthy touch, his eyes still hanging in your mind like hooks.

But you kept going.

Your steps were firm but dragging, as if some invisible force were pulling at your ankles, trying to hold you back.

The Hidden was darker than usual. The shadowed cells gaped like open mouths, starving. Something seeped from the bars of some of them—mumbled words, raspy laughter, incoherent sounds bleeding from the blackness within. With every step, the cold sharpened, crawling up your spine, digging invisible claws into your skin.

And then you saw it—and froze instantly, your body locked as if torn from time itself.

The blood.

Black under the flickering light, thick and heavy, pooling from the last cell in the first corridor.

Your heartbeat pounded like a frantic drum.

The same cell.

The one that had made your body recoil earlier, as if something had been wrong from the start.

Swallowing down the panic, you forced your legs to move, each step heavier than the last. The scent of iron flooded your senses now, nauseating, thick like smoke.

And then you saw him.

Tom Harrow.

His body lay carelessly on the floor, face turned upward, lifeless eyes fixed on the ceiling as if still staring at something unseen. His throat was torn open in a jagged, grotesque cut, the edges of the wound shredded as if the blade had chewed through his flesh.

And there, embedded in the still-warm flesh, was a pair of gardening shears.

A dry shiver shot down your spine.

For a long moment, nothing moved.

The Hidden held its breath with you.

The shock struck like lightning.

Large, strong hands emerged from nowhere, clamping over your mouth and waist in a vicious surge. The world tilted violently as your body was yanked backward, feet scraping against the cold floor of the Hidden, darkness swallowing everything before you could even react.

The scream died before it was born, smothered beneath the hot, calloused palm silencing you.

You struggled instinctively, but the strength holding you was like iron. Your heart hammered, so hard that the pain echoed in your chest, your skull, the tips of your fingers. The scent that enveloped you was overwhelming—something between wood, metal, and a trace of smoke.

The flickering light in the corridors revealed only fragments of his face. Deep brown eyes, burning with fury. A clenched jaw, teeth gritted tight. The tattoos winding down his forearms, shifting like living shadows.

Then, in one swift motion, he slammed you against the cold wall. The air fled from your lungs in a single, choked gasp.

The temperature in the room shifted—the icy shock of the concrete at your back clashed violently with the solid, burning heat of his body pressing into yours. Every muscle beneath his fitted shirt was taut, as if holding back a storm on the verge of breaking.

The silence between you was electric, heavy as lead.

Your eyes traveled upward, slowly, meeting his in the narrow space between your faces.

Shadows danced over the sharp angles of his jaw, his gaze locked onto you like a blade—dripping with anger, warning... and something else. Something so raw, so feral, that it sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, his voice came. Low, rough, thick with menace.

“Which part of ‘I don’t want you here’ does the doctor still not understand?”

Noah spoke.

⭑ @bloody-spades ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff ; @do-it-jakey-baby

[diesciple]

TAKEN CARE OF

Pairing: Luxanna Crownguard x Jinx (LoL)

Type: oneshot

Content Includes: modern au, implied non-sexual nudity (they take a bath tgt but no smut), swearing, established relationship (married), hurt/comfort, domestic life, jinx just needs support, lux IS a support

Author’s Note: i did all of this in online classes um… hi twt oomfs reading this!

“I love you,” Lux repeated for what felt like the millionth time. Jinx mumbled back, “I love you more.” with a low voice. They were both in the bathtub, sitting together. Jinx leaned her back against Lux, enjoying the feeling of Lux’s arms wrapped around her.

This is the best spot to end up after the worst day ever.

Jinx winced at the stinging in her hands “Stupid,” she grumbled, leaning against the leather of her car seat. She fantasized about taking over the world as a child and now that she’s older, she now knows her fate was to become a blue-collar woman. There was a pang of hurt in her heart that she couldn’t describe. All she knew was that she’s extremely exhausted working, and needs to be taken care of.

“Take these just in case you get hurt.” Lux told her, offering a small kit with bandaids and alcohol. Adorable.

The small kit just laid in the center console, untouched. Jinx stared at it for a minute before deciding, “Nah.” she said as she shook her head. Her gaze turned to the road as she started the car, eager to go home and just fall into bed regardless of how dirty she was at the moment.

As soon as Jinx arrived at the door of her apartment, she felt heaven awaiting for her on the other side, the gates just waiting to be unlocked. The door swung open and she swiftly dropped her bag down onto the side, sighing heavily. 

“Jinx?” A loud voice called out. “Lux.”

The sweet scent of food and the sound of faint footsteps becoming louder filled Jinx’s sensations. The feeling of the wholesome domestic atmosphere heightened as Lux approached. She noticed the bruises on Jinx’s hands quickly. It’s almost like a routine now— Jinx comes home and Lux would check for any bruises.

Lux sighed but her gaze moved back to Jinx’s exhausted face, “Hi.” She gently raised her hand to cup Jinx’s cheek. “Hey.” Jinx replied with a softer tone, her hand slowly intertwining with the hand Lux brought up to Jinx’s cheek. 

Lux could feel some of the bruises come into contact with her skin, “Did you at least disinfect them?” She asked. Jinx smirked, “Nnnaaahh…” She admitted. Lux didn’t have to come up with a whole investigation to find out why Jinx didn’t take care of herself. Of course, she enjoyed taking care of Jinx but it would be great if Jinx learned to worry about her condition more. In response, Lux only sighed softly, “Come on, let’s go fix you up.”

As soon as the couple finished dinner and placed bandaids on Jinx’s bruises, Jinx was eager to get into bed— until Lux stopped her, “Love.” Lux called out. Jinx’s eyebrows raised curiously, “Light of my life?” She teased, letting out a short chuckle. Lux giggled back, “You need a wash.” She suggested. Fuck yes! Jinx coming home to be taken care of by Lux was what made their home heaven. 

In unspoken words, Jinx did stink. Like shit. 

That brings Jinx to the present.

“I love you,” Lux whispered once more. Lux began to trail kisses from Jinx’s cheek to her shoulder, giggling softly before kissing Jinx’s neck again “Tired?” She tilted her head, her eyebrows raised. Jinx shrugged, “Enjoying the moment.”

Lux massaged Jinx’s head, washing the conditioner off “Your hair’s getting longer.” Lux commented. Jinx hummed in acknowledgement to Lux’s words, “I haven’t gone for a trim in awhile.” She replied. Lux nodded, her hands running through Jinx’s long blue hair, “How about this weekend?” She tilted her head. “Sure.” Jinx mindlessly agreed. Happy wife, happy life. “Maybe cut it short?” Jinx suggested. 

Lux didn’t question Jinx, she’d support any of Jinx’s decisions as long as she doesn’t get hurt, “I think you’d look handsome.” Lux’s voice lowered, “My handsome girl.” Jinx blushed at the title, “Your handsome girl.” She echoed with a soft tone, close to breaking out into lighthearted chuckles. Lux already began to giggle, pressing kisses on Jinx’s cheek, “Mine.”

As the atmosphere grew peacefully quieter, Jinx felt a soft tension that was slowly swallowing her. The water began to feel like Jinx was falling into a deep hole— No. Not right now.

A hand tapped Jinx’s thigh, “Come on.” Lux gestured for Jinx to get up. “Done already?” Jinx murmured. The pout on Jinx’s lips elicited another giggle from Lux, “You’re adorable, baby.” She leaned in, pressing a kiss on Jinx’s cheek. Jinx leaned in once more for one on her lips, only for Lux to turn away to get up.

The worst part about it was getting the knots out after drying. Jinx felt like her entire scalp was being ripped off as Lux tried to brush through her hair as gently as she could— clearly not gentle enough, “Ow! What the fuck!” Jinx groaned as her hand rapidly reached up to scratch her head. Lux sighed with exasperation, “Jinx, I’m trying to be as gentle as I can.” She continued to brush out the knots.

There was something about Lux taking such good care of Jinx that made Jinx free to wander in her own thoughts. She felt refreshed being able to come home to her wife being so tender and gentle with her. Although, wandering in her thoughts maybe began to become a deeper dive than it should. 

Jinx stared at herself in the mirror that laid in front of the pair. The longer she looked, the more she started to notice her flaws. “Pretty,” Lux called out. Jinx hummed in response— but it wasn’t enough. The exhaustion and the aches of not feeling good enough that she constantly suppressed with her chaotic personality.

Eventually, Lux’s voice faded. Jinx was getting farther into the fog that her head was slowly filling with. Her reflection stared back at her and suddenly her eyebags felt heavier, her head began to hurt, and the bruises started to look darker. Sitting in her thoughts alone, pushing out any presence she could feel in the room— suddenly it felt like a buzzing in her head was getting louder. Her lips thinned into a grimace, the overthinking was growing more prominent. 

It’s been awhile since she looked at herself. 

Really looked at herself.

Why do I look like that? What even is that? How—

“Jinx!” Lux raised her voice, the abrupt sound interrupting the dissociated state that Jinx was in. 

The sudden sound of Jinx’s name being yelled shocked her out of her thoughts, she finally exhaled the breath that she didn’t notice she was keeping in. “Yeah? Sorry.” Jinx took a deep breath. Her head was still hurting and her body felt strange, everything just felt so indescribably… wrong. 

“Baby, are you okay?” Lux questioned. Her tone wasn’t only curious… She was worried. Jinx blinked, unable to focus with—what felt like—two worlds clashing together, and she was in the middle, being pulled by both worlds by her arms. The weight of the atmosphere was there and Jinx still hasn’t answered. She didn’t have an answer.

How can she even explain it? It felt ungrateful. Being in the arms of a caring woman who has been with her through thick and thin. 

You’re ruining everything. Everything. The atmosphere, the bond, the everything. You’re ruining everything, Jinx.

“I’m okay.” Jinx finally answered, but her words were hollow. 

Lux wasn’t fooled. She has been married to Jinx for a few years already, she recognizes this behavior. “You’re shaking, love.” Lux just needs Jinx to tell her. Tell her.

No.

“It’s been a long day, Lux.” Jinx sighed shakily. The sigh felt heavy, as if she was carrying dumbbells. She doesn’t even know why she’s upset. You’re upset but you don’t even have a reason? Why can’t you just be okay.

It began to bother Lux too, she placed the brush down on the vanity and gently reached for another chair to sit next to Jinx. “Talk to me, love.” Lux’s hand moved to Jinx’s arm, her fingers tracing random shapes on Jinx’s skin.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. The words were stuck in her throat, she couldn’t get them past her lips. It felt like an internal war of trying to force herself into replying, “I’m sorry.” She finally managed, her voice breaking. “I don’t know, I don’t…” 

This was embarrassing. Jinx finally felt more in touch with reality and she didn’t know how to process it. Tears were rapidly forming and she didn’t even notice them threatening to break out in the first place.

“This is so stupid. I’m so stupid.” Jinx couldn’t control the pattern of her breath anymore, she felt like walls were closing into her lungs “I don’t mean to— I’m ruining the moment,” She sniffled. Lux shook her head, choosing to comfort Jinx without hesitance, “You’re not stupid, Jinx. You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met.” 

Jinx’s breath hitched at the sincerity in Lux’s voice. She frantically tried to wipe away the tears, only for new ones to form. “Look at me, Jinx.” Lux requested firmly but lightheartedly, “Look at me.” She repeated.

The tone of voice slightly shocked Jinx, finally looking back at Lux nervously. Lux’s eyes softened at Jinx’s expression, “Oh baby.” She softly called out, her hand reaching to cup Jinx’s cheek. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what got into me.” Jinx’s voice cracked, “I hate the way I look, I feel exhausted, everything is so… oh…” Jinx let out a whine, her breath hitching as she swiftly leaned in for a hug, her tears falling onto Lux’s shoulder, “You don’t deserve me.”

Hearing those words hurt Lux, “Sweetheart, you’re the only person I want. Nobody else.” She whispered gently into Jinx’s ear, “You are the best person to ever come into my life. Our marriage— everything about us, it’s the best thing that has ever happened to me.” She felt Jinx’s grip tighten around her, a silent yearning for Lux’s embrace.

Jinx felt a lump in her throat. She, out of nowhere, began to have a breakdown— and she was able to feel better with just a few sentences? It felt stupid, like she was wasting Lux’s time. “I’m sorry for,” hiccup “all of this.” Jinx whimpered. 

A soft kiss planted on Jinx’s shoulder, “I don’t care.” Lux whispered, “Tell me everything. Show me all of you.” She encouraged, laughing softly, “You are so worth it, my love. I am not going anywhere.”

The words made Jinx feel overwhelmingly better. For a moment, the room was only filled with the quiet of their breaths mingling and the pulse between them.

“I love you, Lux.”

“I love you too, Jinx.”

It came to Jinx’s realization that the road ahead is going to be full of bumps, but maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to go through it alone. Even the simplest action of Lux holding her makes her feel so much better— no, it wasn’t simple. It was the representation of the love that Lux keeps inside of her heart, all for Jinx.

That’s what being taken care of truly is.

[quxyivs]

The other half of me

Popular Boy! Lee Know x Loner Photographer! Black fem reader

Summary: Lee Know the schools heartthrob, Mr perfect, the pretty boy, sees you getting bullied by his ex and decides to step in. He offers to take you to the nurse and when you two meet again after you rejected his offer her learned that he doesn’t have to lie to himself when near you (College AU)

Troupe- Heartthrob x Loner (kinda)

Trigger Warnings! Fluff and angst, crying, cursing, bullying, a tad bit of fighting, blood (lmk if I missed anything!!)

You were sitting down in your seat on the train looking down at your camera as you made your way to school. When the train finally stopped you stood up and walked over your bag and camera in hand. You connected your Bluetooth headphones as you began walking out the train station and toward the campus.

You were eventually across the street from the campus. You looked at the gates and you took a deep breath before walking across the street and making it to the other side of the road. When you made it to the other side you walked towards the entrance, not before the same group of girls came beside you pushing you over and knocking you down causing you to hurt your leg.

“Fuck-!! Ow!!” You said as you sat up holding your bleeding knee. “Aww is the baby gonna cry? Gonna cry!! Grab her camera and take a picture too!!” Amia, your main enemy laughed loudly as another girl, Jio, grabbed the camera. When she picked it up you quickly stood up and snatched it back. “Leave me alone!” You said clenching your camera. “Who do you think you’re talking to!?” Just as Amia was about to slap you, Lee Know, the school heartthrob stopped her hand.

“Amia what the hell are you doing? Leave her alone.” Lee know said looking at Amia with a stern voice standing there waiting for her to leave. “But-!!” “Go.” “UGH!!” Amia stomped off with her friend mumbling underneath her breath. Lee know turned around coming closer towards you to get a look at your face before you backed up. “I didn’t need help..but thank you..” You said as you looked away from him and back away. “You’re welc-shit you’re bleeding come here let me help.” He reached out to grab your arm when you snatched it back from him. “Don’t!!..Don’t touch me. I can do it myself.”

You grab your bag from off the ground and limp to the nurses office. She wasn’t surprised to see you as this was normal for you by now. She sat you down on a chair as she disinfected the wound. As you sat there patiently waiting for her to finish the door to the office was opened again and in came Lee know. You were about to protest and tell him to stop following you when you saw him sit on the chair need the window and just look outside. Completely ignoring your presence.

You could tell he seemed a bit out of it so you decided to maybe snap him out of it. “What’s little Mr. Perfect doing here? Thought boys like you were too good to get into fights.” You said sarcastically rolling your eyes as you looked at him waiting for his response. “Well seeing as defending you got me dumped, I thought I’d come check in you.” He said honestly making you feel bad.

“Oh..I-I’m sorry I didnt…”

“It’s fine. She was annoying and bitchy anyways..just using me for my popularity and money..” For the first time in forever you felt like you knew him..? You and Lee know never spoke. Never even a wave but here he was pouring his true emotions out to you. You looked at him softly. “So why’d you get with her..?” You said softly but also sounding concerned. “My parents forced me to do it. They force me to do all of this.” He admitted as he looked at her.

You two made eye contact but it felt deeper than just a glare. “So you don’t want to be the schools ‘Heartthrob’ the ‘popular boy’ the-“ “Guy everyone wants to become because I’m rich and get girls? yeah. I hate it, wish I could just be left alone, kinda like you.” He said chuckling to himself dryly.

“..Why would you want that.. I mean being alone is well, lonely of course.. No friends and everyone thinks you’re just a weirdo. Being like this sucks.” You say chuckling as well looking down at your leg as the nurse walked in. “Oh? Is something wrong Lee know?” The nurse said looking at your leg and wrapping it as she spoke. “No just came in here to get away.” He said his voice quiet, almost like he wanted to go unheard.

“Well good thing I just went to restock….” She paused briefly. “You know.. you two are really the same.” She said with a soft smile as she finished wrapping your leg throwing away some of the bloody cotton balls. “How? We’re polar opposites.” You two said almost at the same time and then made eye contact.

“That’s how.” She giggled. “Well you two need to get to class now yes?? I’ll write you both a pass!” You awkwardly shifted in your seat before standing up preparing to leave as she finishes writing the note you find yourself gazing in Lee know’s direction. As you look at him, you find yourself lost in his presence. The way the sunlight hits all his features perfectly, the way his eyes shimmer, his slightly pink cheeks.. You find yourself unable to control your movements and you take out your camera and snap a picture of him. When the picture comes out the Polaroid you shake it and then look at it. Gorgeous. Pure perfection. You then snap out of your head when you hear the nurse snap.

“Stuck in la-la land over him aren’t we?” She chuckled. Nervous that you had been called out you just run out the room with your camera but dropping the picture. Lee know saw that you dropped something and he stood up to pick it up when he saw that what you dropped…was a picture of him.

He smiled and picked up the photo. The nurse who was watching it all smiled too as she crossed her legs

“Seems you found your other half.”

“Seems so..”

.

.

.

A/N- AH I spent SO long writing this!! I hope you guys like it!!! Lmk if you want this to be a series too(*≧∀≦*)

[thebusytypewriter]

hello hello congrats on the followers!! for the event could i request a long kamukura x reader fic where he’s basically baby duck imprinted on reader? i imagine that after being locked in a cell and mistreated by hopes peak even an iota of basic human kindness has him clinging

YIPPEE I've been brainrotting about this one for AGES I'm so sorry for the wait anon!! I'm also sorry that you were probably expecting fluff with this and while there is some, uhhhh........... angstnohappyendOKAYENJOYBYE--

No, I’m not falling for you

So please have mercy on me

The night of the Tragedy—the first one—you were there. That was something Izuru Kamukura didn’t expect.

You weren’t exactly there, not in the classroom where it all went down; things would’ve been much different if you were. No, you were some Reserve Course student who’d found their way just outside of the Main Course gates past curfew.

In fact, it was well past that point, nearly midnight by then. Enoshima had yet to return from her place in the security office, Ikusaba likely with her. This left Kamukura alone outside to ponder what had just transpired.

The gruesome deaths of the thirteen Ultimate students replayed over and over within his perfect memory, everything from gunshot to impaling to chainsaw. He’d expected each and every one of them to turn away from Enoshima’s “motives,” since innocent lives logically outweighed petty hearsay, no matter how damaging it would be.

Such intense emotion on their faces when first attacks were made… He couldn’t understand it.

Wind whistled past his stony face as he strolled, the force tossing around his hair in every direction. Even if he had the capacity to care about it, he wouldn’t. There were far more pressing things to worry about.

The sound of rubber soles on stone alerted him to an approaching individual, so Kamukura swiftly moved behind one of the few trees lining the outer wall and watched.

You were far out of dress code for a Reserve Course student, but he figured that you didn’t care with it being after hours. A large hoodie covered you, engulfing your upper half in the softest fabric he’d ever seen, and your yoga pants were just as large and cozy-looking. The only thing that indicated you as part of the Reserve Course was the student ID faintly peeking out from under your collar.

He could see the bags under your eyes from his place a dozen feet away, and the slouch in your walk alerted his health-related talents of your likely insomnia.

“Hello?” you called out, almost timidly, not too soft to go unheard but not too loud to alert any remaining security. “I was just out for a walk when I, um, heard you. I know it’s late, I just want to make sure you’re okay. It’s not a good idea to leave Main Course grounds after dark, okay?”

Kamukura faintly wondered if you’d ever had a chance of being an Ultimate regarding empathy or safety. It would suit you.

“I go here,” you continued, “so don’t worry, I just want to help.”

His nail lightly scratched at the tree’s bark in contemplation. Two abnormal events in the same night… Perhaps he couldn’t let that go.

Letting his definitive steps announce his presence, Kamukura stepped out and into the dull light of the street lamps. He said nothing and simply blinked at you.

You inhaled sharply, clearly startled as you caught sight of him. There was only a brief moment of panic in your eyes before it switched over to concern, your gaze locking on something just below his own, slightly to his right. “Oh my god, are you okay?”

Ah. In the excitement of your arrival, he’d forgotten about the bullet graze wound across his cheek. He raised a hand and felt around the area, unsurprised to find it mostly still wet with blood. “And why would you be concerned about me? You’ll get nothing in return.”

“Nothing in…?” Your brow pinched further, now from both concern and confusion. “Dude, you’re bleeding. Like a lot. Like you might need stitches.”

“No. I’ll apply some disinfectant shortly, and it’ll heal just fine. You should be more concerned with your own safety, being out this late at night, instead of fussing over a stranger.”

“I-I’m not fussing,” you argued, cheeks now puffing out in your annoyance.

You reminded him of a chipmunk.

Cute.

Something in him halted at the thought before reassuring himself that it was simply fact. There were no opinions within him. You were being kind to him, that was all. It was… unfamiliar.

Unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.

“Oh!” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts. “How rude of me. I didn’t even introduce myself.” With a statement of your name—something he already knew from observing your student ID—you extended a hand while asking for his own.

In a handful of milliseconds, he considered what to tell you. He could tell you nothing and walk away, leaving you out of the insanity but leaving this odd new itch behind. He could tell you Kamukura, but there were far too many things attached to that name on Hope’s Peak campus. You were Reserve Course, not stupid. 

“Call me Izuru,” he stated. “For your safety, I’ll leave it at that.”

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline. “Ah… okay? Nice to meet you then, Izuru.”

“You as well.”

“Aaaand your reason for being out here…?”

“Nightly walk.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie, but you didn’t need to know that. “I was in the process of returning to my quarters when you appeared. I am in no danger, I assure you.”

You nodded, hesitant but understanding. “Gotcha. Well… just be careful, okay? There are some real weirdos out here at night.”

The irony of your statement almost made him laugh. Almost. “I understand, thank you. Would you like an escort back to the Reserve Course dormitory?”

“Oh, uh, no thanks. Pepper spray’s got my back.”

“If you insist. Good night, then.” Kamukura gave the slightest of bows before turning to reenter the Main Course grounds and rendezvous with Enoshima. Your return of the phrase met his ears, but he continued on.

He tried not to feel your gaze boring into his back as he did so.

He tried not to look back when he heard your footsteps retreat.

Izuru Kamukura failed for the first and second time that night.

‘Cause it’s not romantic, I swear

I’m not gasping for air

After moving from one underground bunker to another, Kamukura quickly found himself to be once again bored out of his mind. The only thing that kept his attention, that lingered in his mind, was you.

He’d never seen your face among the rioters from newsfeed alone, leading him to the conclusion that you were abstaining from it all. You were safe, presumably. Given how kind you were to him when you met, he decided that you deserved it—the safety from Despair. Someone like you needed to be protected.

And yet, he still thought about what it would be like for you to stay in that bunker with him. Kamukura wasn’t alone there, of course not; among its occupants was Enoshima, Ikusaba, Mitarai, and the nurse that was dragged in—Tsumiki. Of these, Enoshima was the only one who engaged in conversation with him, as one-sided as it was, and as annoying as she was.

Despite himself, despite his programming, Kamukura missed you.

He knew that Enoshima had noticed his change of demeanor after that night. He knew that she’d look into what happened, badgering him until she inevitably gave up.

What he didn’t know was how invested she’d be in the situation.

In the midst of his purusing old documents within the bunker, he was met with the sound of Enoshima’s delighted hum growing closer… then farther. It was odd. There weren’t many rooms in the bunker, and there were even fewer rooms that Junko Enoshima herself would enter. If they were dirty, she sent Ikusaba in. If they were hazardous, she sent Tsumiki in.

So where was she going?

Damn it, his interest was piqued.

Cautiously and quietly, Kamukura followed the Ultimate Despair down a corridor he’d never seen her traverse before. She hummed the whole way, a slight bounce in her step, before stopping at a closed iron door. It had a small square window at head level, but that seemed to be the only way one could see in or out of the room. Enoshima slid the massive bar lock out of place and pushed her way inside, letting the door close behind her.

He stalked up to the solid barrier and peered through the window, careful not to let more of himself show than what was unavoidable. As Kamukura’s gaze settled on the pigtailed frame he’d watched enter, her voice met his ears.

“Just checkin’ on ya, sweetheart! Can’t have you dying on me just yet, right? You just got here!”

Then, a second voice followed hers, one that made his blood run cold.

“I-I think you’ve got the wrong person,” you stammered, teeth audibly clacking together in the cold concrete room. “I don’t know who you are, I don’t know why you brought me here, I haven’t done anything wrong—”

“Of course not, silly!” Enoshima strode forward in faux contemplation, manicured hands clasped behind her back. “Consider this a… witness care program. We take care of our witnesses!”

With the Despair’s movement, Kamukura was able to get a full view of you. You were still in your pajamas, just a tank top and fuzzy pants, implying that you’d been abducted either in your room or within the dorm in general. Your feet were bare and pale—borderline blue—against the gray floor. (He understood then why you were shivering.) From that angle, he was able to notice your hands wrenched behind your back as you sat by a pole, and he deduced that Enoshima—or maybe Ikusaba—had tied you to said pole to restrict movement. How cliche.

“Witness care?” You blinked, fluorescent light sparkling in your eyes. “So you’re protecting me then?”

“Well, aren’t you just a little ray of hope?” Enoshima reached out and pitched your cheek with enthusiasm. “Cutie pie! I could just eat you up!” Her grin dropped abruptly, and Kamukura saw a few little beads of blood spring up on your skin where she held you. “…And then I would immediately vomit. Your gross little rainbows and sparkles make me sick, y’hear me? What the hell does a god like Kamukura see in a worthless Reserve Course chump?”

Your brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, who’s… Kamukura? Like, the founder of Hope’s Peak?”

“No, silly,” she snorted. “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. The one you met a few days ago. What exactly did he say his name was?”

He watched your mouth open to answer, then slowly close as you appeared to connect the dots she’d presented. Your response came out quiet and disbelieving. “…Izuru.”

Enoshima’s free hand flew up in mocking celebration. “Give the kid a prize! This might come as a shock to you—who am I kidding, it so will—but the Izuru Kamukura you talked to is a lab experiment gone horrifically right. He’s a god among men, the Ultimate Hope. And that makes it all the more confusing as to why he’s chosen to latch onto you of all people. Kinda silly if you ask me.”

Much to his odd delight, all traces of fear left your face at the statement, and you snarled at her. “Well if you admire him so much, then why does it sound to me like you’re doubting his judgment? I’ll be sure to let him know when I see him next. Whose word will he believe—mine or yours?”

Enoshima’s hand ripped away as she recoiled. “Ugh! God, you’d get along really well with the know-it-all detective in my class. Keep holding your head up like that, and you’re ten times more likely to get smacked by a bat. It’s just statistics!”

The twitch of your brow betrayed your returning terror.

“Anyway,” she drew out, “I wouldn’t get comfy, m’kay? Even though you’re here as a present for my beloved Kamukura, I still have an agenda. Maybe look up the phrase ‘take care of’ in the dictionary! Oh, wait, you can’t do that here. Hm! Your problem, not mine.”

Kamukura ducked out of the window just as Enoshima turned, forgoing the remainder of the conversation to preserve his assumed innocence. In his brisk return down the hallway, he felt an odd tingling sensation rising from the midst of his throat all the way to his skull. It reminded him of an ant colony, one that disturbed the neutrality within him.

He then noticed how tense his brow had been the entire time. How clenched his fists were. How much he itched to burst through the door and rescue your kind self from Despair incarnate.

Some Ultimate Psychologist within him ticked off some boxes and raised a finger to share the new discovery, but he ignored it.

He had to.

The Ultimate Hope did not get attached.

I want you to be here, but please don’t come near

‘Cause even though I’m pretty sure my head’s exploding

I’m not ready for hand holding

Kamukura was attached.

Within the couple of weeks between his discovery of your presence—when he was sure that Enoshima and Ikusaba weren’t in the bunker, and Mitarai and Tsumiki were stationed in the former’s workspace—he often found himself visiting you.

The first time he made an appearance and explained what he could, he’d been expecting your immediate response.

“So you’ll let me go?”

He shook his head. “As much as I am of the mind that you should be given your freedom, there is a strong chance Enoshima may just hunt you down again and kill you. A far from ideal outcome, wouldn’t you agree?”

You did, and he was relieved.

…What?

Ah, yes. That was the recurring problem around you; Kamukura found himself feeling things. At first, he was convinced that he could become desensitized by visiting you more. It only made things worse. He got to know you then, all your hobbies and quirks and everything that made you unique in his eyes.

Not to mention your kindness. God, all the harsh interactions with immoral scientist after immoral scientist made him realize how truly important you were.

You invaded all of his waking thoughts, and Kamukura expected that he was doing a good job at hiding it.

He was created to have perfect judgment.

It’s not love, I swear

“Oh, Kamukura darling! I have a surprise for you!”

He let himself sigh as he turned from his absentminded file browsing to meet Enoshima’s wide grin. “I have no interest in your presents.” Not to mention he already knew to whom she was referring.

The grin flipped on a dime to a childish pout. “You don’t have to be so mean about it! And here I thought you’d actually like this one.”

“If you’re going to pester me about this surprise regardless, then I suppose I have little choice. Get on with it.”

Enoshima immediately perked up again, much like a dog whose master said the word ‘treat’ aloud. (What a hellish dog the Ultimate Despair would make, Kamukura thought to himself. He’d have to tell you that one later.) “Okie dokie! You’re gonna love it.”

“Doubtful. I am incapable of love.”

Incapability, the Ultimate Dictionary part of him said, is another word for inability, which is the lack of ability to do something. Denial is an unwillingness to accept that something is true.

He stubbornly shoved the thought away and followed behind the bouncing girl.

Love clouds even the most objectively perfect judgment.

They continued on to a section of the bunker that Kamukura was slightly less familiar with, as it was usually occupied by the other inhabitants, and he wasn’t one to socialize with them. (He wasn’t one to socialize with Enoshima, either, but she forced it upon him.) At some time, he’d heard the sounds of panic and stress echoing from that same direction, but it was her business, not his. It appeared that it was about to be his business, though.

Enoshima led him into an offshoot of the main hallway, her deranged humming increasing as they moved. It was never a good sign when she was so pleased.

The distorted music he’d listened to her perfect met his ears, laced with the edited screams of Ultimate students. Why was she playing the Despair-inducing video? Was there a “guest” he wasn’t aware of?

…Wait.

There would be.

If he wasn’t already aware of them.

“You’ve been so pressed over the battle of Hope and Despair, and I wanted to help you along—” Enoshima pushed a door open, and the sounds became clearer— “so you get to see Despair in action!”

A dim concrete room greeted the two of them, bathed only in the flashing lights and red glow of her video. In the center, a single chair sat askew with what appeared to be leather straps dangling from its arms and legs. The quick inspection with his Ultimate Analyst talent revealed a lack of tears in the leather outside of the usual signs of torture—fraying and scuffing. The occupant didn’t escape their containment, but they were released.

Speaking of, Kamukura’s gaze fell upon a figure settled on the floor, head pressed against their knees. It was reminiscent of a traditional Japanese deep bow—zarei, that is—but they were tense, shaking. Their hands dug into their hair and pulled against their scalp in this panicked manner, and that wasn’t even the part that set him off.

This figure, the victim of Junko Enoshima’s Despair-inducing video, was you.

“Turn it off.”

“Eh?”

His fist closed around Enoshima’s throat and tugged her close in an instant, dragging a garbled noise of surprise from her. “Turn the video off, or I will do it myself.”

Her eyes were wide at this new display, one he himself was quite unsure about, and she burst out in startled laughter. “Woooow! Okay, Mr. Assertive! It’s done the job anyway. This was mostly just for theatrics and funsies, to give a little pizzazz to your present—Hey, are you even listening?”

Kamukura was not. Oh, how he thought about bashing in her head at that moment. It would be quick and effortless on his part, ultimately ridding the world of her sick plan. But Enoshima wasn’t his priority; he was already crossing the floor toward your crumpled form, an uncharacteristically-loud heartbeat pounding in his ears. Odds of your being unharmed were slim, to say the least, and only dropping every second you didn’t move, but he called upon his Ultimate Luck to combat them.

Pristine black dress pants rubbed against the concrete as he settled on his knees next to you. Kamukura’s hand hovered over your back while he debated on the best course of action. What would he do if you were lost? Could he bring himself to hand you over to Enoshima, or would he go directly against her to repair a broken mind? Was it even possible for him to do such a thing?

Might still be in shock, he reminded himself. It was entirely possible that Enoshima had been bluffing. You were fine.

You had to be.

He let his hand run over your spine once. Twice. You remained, head pressed to your knees, though you shuddered at the touch.

Just ahead, the Despair-inducing video clicked off. Finally. He shot a glare at Enoshima and, by virtue of her sudden appearance, Ikusaba. Additionally, Tsumiki appeared to be peeking in from the doorway, and her twisted smile did nothing to calm his anxieties.

…Anxieties? The Ultimate Psychologist in his head once again raised a finger to say I told you so, but he ignored it.

Kamukura called for you, quietly at first. When he received no answer, he tried again, louder.

Something finally spilled from your lips, unintelligible and hushed. He wondered for a moment if what he felt at the sound was hope, but it quickly snapped away as your garbled noises continued and then transitioned into an objectively worse sound.

You were laughing.

No, you were crying.

It was both. You were hysterical.

Finally, finally, you sat up, and the “no signal” screen previously playing that maddening video kept your face under an eerie red light. The color illuminated the teartracks down your cheeks, and his heart clenched. Your gaze met his, and it sank.

Those kind eyes, the ones that made him feel warm, feel anything… were hazy and unfocused. The smile that set off the butterflies in his stomach, however few they were, twisted with insanity.

Tainted.

She’d broken you.

You. The one good thing in this spiraling world.

Kamukura cupped your cheek as you giggled something about his expression. He didn’t care to listen. He ran through the possible ways of repairing your mind and found that the list was both shorter and less possible than he’d initially thought. Human beings are fragile creatures, he reminded himself. You can’t hold one too tightly, or else it’ll hurt more when they break.

Perhaps this wasn’t what Enoshima had meant by seeing her work in action, but it got the point across.

His tears fell alongside yours.

It might be closer to Despair . . .

[zorosangell]

⛥ﾟ・。 protector: chapter thirteen

synopsis: " you were supposed to stay a crewate, just another back to watch, " he tightened his hold, " i didn't even notice the change until i woke up one day and realized i'd take a bullet for you "

cw: violence, gore, fighting, mature themes, profanity, MAJOR/MINOR ANIME SPOILERS, follows the plot of the anime, slowww burn.

a/n: reposting from another account

You woke up to the stale smell of disinfectant and bandages, the scent already telling you that you were in some sort of infirmary.

"Crap," you hissed, looking down at yourself.

You sat up and swung your legs over to the side of the bed, allowing yourself to get up and walk out the building, the idea of shoes being pushed far back in your memory.

The night was warm and when you made it to the town square, you could only smile, as everyone was passed out, sleepy grins on everyone's faces.

You walked over to a sake stand to see Sanji sitting propped up against a wall, sleeping happily with about three women under him.

You lightly snickered and grabbed a big sake bottle, turning around to take a walk.

The moon was beautifully full, its brilliant light bathing the whole town.

You smiled to yourself as you popped the cork of the bottle, taking a big swig as you continued down the main road. 

"Finally woke up?" a familiar voice asked.

Your breath hitched and you quickly turned to where the voice came from, only to see Zoro in an alley, sitting on a bench with a candle stand illuminating half of his face.

You took a breath of relief and walked over, sitting on the floor across from him.

The two of you sat there in silence for a few minutes, taking swigs of your respective bottles, when he spoke up again.

"How did you heal so quickly?" he started, his tone serious as he turned to look up at the moon.

The air caught in your throat.

'Crap! Came straight out the gate with it.'

He noticed your hesitation and sighed, crossing his arms.

"If you don't wanna tell me, you don't have to. But just know that people'll start becoming suspicious if one minute you look an inch from death and the next you're the image of perfect health."

"I know that," you snappily answered, gripping the fabric of your skirt tight.

He cocked a brow at your sudden change in tone.

"Believe me, I know that more than you will ever realize. My entire life has revolved around the fact that I can do what I can do. But I made a promise to someone that I wouldn't let anyone use my power for their gain."

You looked down at your lap, unable to bare his eye contact for a second more.

He was staring into your soul, so intensely that it was as if he could see into you, and maybe even a little past that.

"To heal in front of people would bring too much attention. It's not like I can completely control it anyway. And even if I could I—" "Do you really take us as those kinds of people?" he quickly and firmly interrupted.

Your heart stopped and the breath caught in your throat.

"I couldn't... I couldn't take that chance. Not after what I've been through." 

You looked up from your lap, nervous to see the swordsman's reaction.

But to your surprise, his features softened, and he took a long swig of his sake bottle.

"I'm not gonna force you to tell me something you're not comfortable with," he started, wiping the excess alcohol that ran down his lips.

It made you feel hot, and you did your best to discreetly shift your position.

"Just know that when you're ready, if you're ever ready, I'll be here."

A small smile crept onto your lips, and you loosened your grip on your bottle, smiling down at it

"Thanks, Zoro."

His signature smirk found his way to his face, and he gave you a sincere look.

"Don't mention it."

The two of you stayed in comfortable silence for a moment, enjoying the nighttime symphony that the sleepy island had to offer.

"And, (y/n)," Zoro chimed, resting his arms on the back of the bench.

"Yeah?"

"I remembered what you asked when we first met. And I wanted to say I'm sorry. I don't know who Doflamingo is. Never heard of him, or even seen him before."

You softly smiled, turning your attention to the moon once more.

"I figured as much, and it's alright. I'll find my own way to Doflamingo. I'm bound to run into him somewhere on the Grand Line."

Your smile slowly morphed into a smirk as you drew your mace, carefully gliding your fingers over the sharpened spikes.

"And when I do... it'll be my personal pleasure to make sure that this mace is the last thing he ever sees."

"This is the last one, right?" Usopp asked as Zoro brought the last two crates of provisions onto the Merry.

"Yeah," the swordsman nodded, hoisting himself up on deck.

"Alright. We're stocked up with everything we need. I think we're good to go," Sanji smiled.

"It'll be nice to get back out on the open sea," you happily sighed from your spot on the taffrail.

"We can't than you enough for everything you've done for us, but we gotta go back to our regular jobs as bounty hunters," Yosaku chimed from the dock below, him and Johnny in some weird pose.

"So, this is goodbye. I hope we get to meet again someday," Johnny waved.

Zoro smirked, his hand resting on the hilt of his swords, "See ya 'round."

"Yeah! Now it's time for us to get going," Usopp cheesed.

"Huh? What about Nami?" you asked, cocking a brow.

"Yeah! We can't leave without her!" Sanji exclaimed.

"Well maybe she's not coming," Zoro shrugged.

Sanji gasped, "Huh?! Why wouldn't she?! I swear if you hit on her, mosshead, I'll kick you into next week!"

Something in the back of your head made you listen closer to Zoro's reply, to see what he would say, or rather, what you hoped he wouldn't say.

For personal reasons... unknown at the moment.

"Why would I do something like that?" Zoro scoffed, confused.

You released a breath you didn't even realize you were holding.

"She has to come! Without her, I have like 99.72% less reason to stay with you people on this stupid pirate ship!"

"Hey!" you pouted.

"Sorry, (y/n), my dear. 49.86%" Sanji quickly corrected.

"Can you guys just—" "Hey, Nami!" you smiled, waving to the red-headed girl who stood on a hill.

"NAMI!" Sanji squealed, leaning over the edge of the boat to get a good look at her.

"Set the sails!" she shouted, sprinting towards the boat.

The whole crew paused, sharing confused looks.

"I'm not getting it. Why is she running?" Usopp asked, scratching his head.

"She said set the sails!" Luffy nodded, tipping his hat, "SET SAIL!"

You smiled, unfurling your wings and flying up to the main mast, untying the ropes that kept the primary sail taught.

Zoro went off to pull up the anchor, Usopp turning the angle of the upper yard, while Luffy and Sanji watched Nami draw closer.

"You sure you wanna let her leave like this?" Sanji asked, cigarette in hand.

"It's her decision. She does what she wants," Luffy shrugged.

Sitting on the upper yard, you watched Nami weave through the the crowd of villagers until she made it to the end of the dock, of which she jumped off and landed on deck.

The shouts of the villagers quieted as she stood there, slowly lifting up her shirt, a plethora of wallets and purses falling out from under it.

"Thanks a bunch!" she smiled as she turned to the crowd, giving a berry note a peck. 

"Nice snag," you approved, flying down and landing next to her.

"She's still the same," Usopp sighed.

"I'd watch my back," Zoro pouted, glaring at the woman. 

Unserious, of course.

Luffy laughed heartily as the island started to become farther and farther away.

"You lousy pickpocket! We'll miss you!" Genzo shouted, smiling.

"Goodbye, everybody! I'll miss you! Take care!" She cheesed, waving goodbye to all her friends and family.

It made you smile. 

Nami and Genzo's relationship reminded you of how a certain someone used to be.

You leaned on the taffrail, your grip on it tightening at the memory.

'Cora.'

[vanillablankcanvas]

Thank you! I live for the dad Branch scenarios and headcanons! Do you think he is an overprotective dad? Especially with Harmony because she's his first child. Have he ever made her that weird outfit/armor which protects but poor kid can't move in it?😅

Dad Branch gives me life.

Poor worried Branch just had to go and make babies with a troublesome woman and make hyperactive troublesome babies.

Grey hairs will definitely be coming early for Branch.

I imagine he was VERY overprotective.

Not just from the general Branch anxiety + new dad anxiety but he is also raising the next Queen of the Pop Trolls!

He seriously not seriously considered a padded nursery.

Or a nursery bunker....?

I imagine he read all the parenting books he could find cover-to-cover.

Protective armor.

He has sketches for some. Poppy won't let him make it.

Baby gates and locks that John Dory can't open.

Security cameras everywhere.

Disinfecting everything over and over.

Maybe at some point something DOES happen to Harmony?

Maybe like her first fever or something?

Poppy has a talk with him about how they can protect her from the world as much as they want but the best thing they can do is help her when she does need it and teach her how to handle things when she does get's hurt.

[toyybox]

Spiderwebs Post-Canon #1: Jackie's Epilogue

Masterlist

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Consciousness came with the gentle certainty of a first snow. For the first time, Jackie was happy to wake up alive. 

He could remember killing Mary and Kate and Carter, and the police sirens, which meant the escape was successful, which meant that he was safe, which meant that Bunny was safe, which was all that really mattered. Relief pierced his heart. Then he felt the dull pain sifting in his limbs, and he was a little less euphoric.

He opened his eyes. The lights were off, but it was not pure darkness. Not like in the basement, during those six months. Some light seeped through a closed window. The walls were sterile and white. He could hear a faint, distant beeping. The sound of a heart monitor, he guessed, or some other medical machine. There was a needle in his arm. It led to an IV bag, which stood on its own four-wheeled stand. There was a plastic band on his wrist, which stated his name and a series of numbers. The bedsheets were also pale. He was in bed. Not his own bed. Not Heather’s bed, either. It was unfamiliar.

He was in a hospital. Everything smelled of disinfectant, and everything was colourless. It put him on edge, but he supposed it was safer than anywhere else in the world. Where else could he go? His old apartment had to be rented out already. And all that injury was probably taking a toll on his body. A few days of rest would be nice.

He just wished the room was less boring. There was one attempt at cheering up the place: a painting of a lakeside forest on the far wall. It was the ugliest painting Jackie had ever seen. Clearly, there was a reason that the artist could only be hired by hospital wards. But their effort was commendable.

He was distracted by the sounds quickly approaching his room. Voices echoed outside, caught in a heated argument, accompanied by loud footsteps. The door pushed open. The lightswitch snapped to life. He screwed his eyes up.

“This isn’t a petting zoo. Come back with a warrant.“

“Sir, this is a matter of national security. We don’t need a warrant.”

“Yes,” someone else said. “It’s important we act quickly.”

Jackie forced his eyelids open, blinking profusely all the while. There was a blue-clad, harried-looking nurse—it said he was a nurse on his lanyard—in the doorway. The nurse was accompanied by two other people. They were both in their forties. One had short salt-and-pepper hair, while the other had her brown hair curled in a bob. They both wore suits. It was all very extravagant. Jackie felt a little underdressed in his hospital gown.

“You’re harassing our patients,” the nurse continued. “This isn’t—“

“Hello,” Jackie said. “Are you the police?”

All eyes focused on him, staring bluntly.

“Hello,” the brunette finally replied, an easygoing answer in contrast to… whatever was happening with the other two.

Jackie knew why these officers were in his hospital room. He had killed two—no, three people, rich and powerful people, all with a stolen weapon. It had been for Bunny’s sake, and he didn’t mind the blood on his hands, but all crimes deserved judgment. Here was Saint Peter at the gate. 

“For the record,” Jackie managed to say in his hoarse voice, “Bunny was not a part of any of the murders. So don’t arrest her. Please. I would really appreciate it.”

The nurse and the graying officer furrowed their brows, glaring even worse than before. The brunette smiled.

“What murders?” the nurse demanded.

Jackie opened his mouth, but the officer held a hand up to stop him. “This is a private matter. I’m giving you a final warning, sir. We can have you prosecuted for disobeying an officer.”

The brunette nodded, then started and pulled something out from her coat pocket, as if she had forgotten to show it earlier. It was an official ID card. They were definitely from the CIA, then. It seemed to be legitimate. There was a picture of an eagle and everything.

The nurse shot them all a look of displeasure, but he ultimately left the room. The door closed softly behind him. The card was stuffed back into the agent’s coat.

Jackie tried to speak with confidence, and failed miserably. “Do I have to go to jail now?”

The graying officer raised their eyebrows, but said nothing of substance.

“Not for killing anyone,” the brunette explained. “It was self defense. We pulled a few strings to speed the courts up. They’re not pressing charges. And definitely not against the investigator—Mackenzie-Clarke, was it?”

The other officer nodded. “My name is Fischer. This is Petrova, my partner. Are you Jackie Rockwell?”

“Yes, that’s me.” That was his main concern out of the way. “Where is Bunny? And Heather? Where is she?”

“Mr. Rockwell,” Fischer continued, as if they didn’t hear the question. “You were found with a bullet embedded in your heart. There is evidence of many other exit wounds. Several of your arteries were damaged beyond repair. It is the belief of our organization—“

“Yes, I know, I’m immortal. Cat’s out of the bag.” He lifted his hand, the one hooked to an IV. “Can I take this needle out?”

“No,” Fischer said. “What do you mean, you know?”

“I already found out.” He gestured vaguely. “Can’t die.”

“It’s really true, then? You actually can’t die?” Petrova asked.

Fischer gave their partner a stern look. Petrova shrugged.

“I don’t think so,” Jackie said.

“In that case,” Fischer continued, “we might as well proceed. The agency is interested in examining your…”

“Stem cells,” Petrova said.

“Yes. Stem cells. Of course, we need you to—”

“Don’t worry,” Jackie cut them off. “I’ll go willingly. I’d like to know where Bunny is, though. She’s not injured, is she?”

Again, Fischer answered none of those questions. “You won’t need to go anywhere.”

Petrova shook her head. “We’re not going to hold you against your will, Mr. Rockwell. That would be illegal. The agency already has your cell samples. We just need you to sign this contract.”

Fischer brought out a document, crammed with lines of text. 

“You have the right to refuse,” Petrova said. “But we’re offering compensation.”

“Compensation?”

“Compensation,” Fischer confirmed. “Seventy thousand a year, and an immediate lump sum of twenty thousand. It will be yours as long as you keep this research and your immortality confidential from the public. You have the right to refuse, of course.”

The right to refuse? Jackie had been missing for a year. Getting another job would be difficult. And Bunny—wouldn’t Bunny appreciate something so generous? Financial security—wasn’t that the sweetest string of words? 

“Petrova will read you through the contract,” Fischer said, inevitably noticing the clear answer in Jackie’s expression. “You may contact a legal representative, if you so wish. But you should rest now. We’ll return later.”

“Get well soon,” Petrova said, waving him goodbye. 

He waved back as they both left the room. This was going very well. It almost felt too good to be true. Not even almost; Jackie was half-expecting to wake up any second. He was half-expecting Heather to walk in, as irritated as ever. But the hospital room was silent and still, clean and safe and nothing more. 

The door opened again. The next face he saw was a familiar one.

Bunny rushed in and hugged Jackie before they could even exchange greetings. The air was knocked out of Jackie’s lungs, but he didn’t care—Bunny was safe. It was all he needed to know.

“I got you something!” She held a box up to show him. “Look. They had it in the gift store.”

It was a box of chocolates. One of those expensive tins, with its lid outlined in blue and gold. It seemed to be heavy, too, judging from the way it rattled when Bunny lifted it.

“Aw, thanks,” Jackie said.

“I don’t have any more money on me, so you'll have to wait until tomorrow for the rest of your gifts.” Bunny placed it on Jackie’s lap. “I can’t believe we did it.”

“Neither can I.”

“It all happened so quickly.” She smiled, and Jackie smiled back. She was significantly less injured since the last time Jackie saw her. There were bandages on all her burns and cuts. “Are you feeling any better, by the way? I hope they gave you painkillers. The doctors said the bullets didn’t hit anything vital, but it looked bad last I saw. I’d bet it still hurts. Should I get something for you? Call a nurse?”

“Thank you, but I feel fine. You don’t need to get anything.” There was only one thing on his mind. “Do you know where Heather is?”

Bunny shook her head. “Far from here, I’d wager. The authorities haven’t found her.”

“Yeah. Guess so.” 

She was somewhere else, where she could not see him.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

And August the most peaceful month.

— Wallace Stevens, A Rabbit as King of the Ghosts

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