#everyone who was close enough that it didn't just feel like

[reignpage]

Physics Tutor!Nanami

Conservation of momentum: if it's just us we can remain at a constant

Content: Friday night party, we're nearing the end y'all, mixed content of angst and fluff, a little sexual action but only if you squint Word Count: 3k Guide

“Nanami, seriously, you’re a grown man,” you mutter, a little annoyed. 

This isn’t how you expected to spend to your Friday night, wrangling a six-foot-tall man into his home but your ex-physics tutor came to a frat party and you had actually drank with him. Now you’re facing the consequences. 

Earlier in the night, the sight of Nanami in his cute blue sweater, sitting awkwardly as he eyed the couple making out next to him with disgust, was enough to warrant a heart attack. You had offered to drink with him in the garden, to take care of him so he could let loose. For an hour or two, you drank a couple shots, relishing the cool breeze which kept your head screwed tight as you sat beside him.

Gojo had passed by, wriggling his eyebrows at you and making lewd movements with his hands. That hadn’t gone by unnoticed by Nanami, who grew quiet. You thought maybe he was tired, maybe he wanted to go home, and when you suggested you part ways, he gripped your wrist. 

“No, don’t go with him,” he slurred. 

You didn’t have plans to go with your friend, you were just going to turn in for the night too, but as you looked at the man you’ve been madly in love with for months and saw his ruffled hair, slightly askew glasses, fogging up from the heat his face was producing, and the flush brightening his cheeks, you realised that there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

So, you stayed, sitting on the garden sofa with him. There were a couple other people loitering around, but none really paid any attention, everyone too immersed in their own conversations and lives to notice the two of you in the corner, thighs pressed together and shoulder brushing once in a while. 

His heat was permeating, tickling your side, and you couldn't help yourself, you leaned in close, the alcohol in your system made it so effortless to just let his gravitation pull bring you closer. If he noticed, he didn't say a thing.

You made small talk, discussing lectures and assignments. It was easy to talk to Nanami; other people were always so eager to prove themselves academically superior, never really listening to what you had to say, but rather looking for weak points to attack. It was never a conversation and instead a battlefield. And when you complained to your friends, they never seemed to understand.

With him, however, he listened more than he talked. Always. He hummed and nodded, mulling and considering your words carefully like what you had to say was just as important as anything an esteemed lecturer was teaching. With him, you felt like equals. Which was insane because he was Nanami Kento, and you were just the girl he had to tutor.

"I hate that bald Professor!" You groaned. "He's so boring."

He chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "He is rather monotonous, I must admit. You aren't the first student to complain and likely will not be the last."

"Yeah, I bet. But I honestly just don't think he should be a lecturer. I'd probably be a better one than him."

Meeting your gaze, you see the crinkle in the corners of his eyes, the way they soften as they roam your face, stopping by your smile. His fingers twitch on the empty shot glass, skimming the rim just a little before he affirms, "I have no doubts you would be; I can't imagine anyone finding you boring."

Passing each other shot glasses, you'd sip and chat. Nothing about the elephant in the room, not about your confessions, about the odd tension permeating the relationship, certainly not about why he showed up to the party, or why he had become flirtatious. Perhaps it was cowardice that held you both back. Maybe it was the enjoyment of simply existing beside each other, not as classmates, not as tutor and student, and not as two people whose feelings have gotten all tied up.

But as just Nanami and y/n.

Eventually, you both ceased your chattering. Settling to watch the other partygoers or the stars twinkling. Once in a while, he'd point to a star and tell you about its story, and you'd sit entranced by his voice --it's so steady, so smooth and clear, you could listen to it for hours. And when he talked to you of astronomy and gravity and quantum mechanics and the probability of time travel, you thought he should be a lecturer. You'd attend every class, every seminar, and never complain.

"How do you know so much about stars? We don't get taught about constellations."

He lifted one shoulder. "I work at the Eden Observatory part-time."

It was so quintessentially Nanami you didn't question it even though you were bursting to ask. He would have given you all the answers you sought, you're sure by the way he gazes at you expectantly.

Silence passed by, comfortable and soothing. You had no idea what time it was, didn’t care enough to reach forward to get your phone from the table, and neither did Nanami. You thought maybe he was nodding off but when you peered up at him, he was looking down. 

At your hand. 

“C-can I hold it?” 

His voice was gravelly, a hesitation that you’d never heard from him. The way he was gazing down at your hand, limp on your lap, like it was precious, like it was made of glass, and he could be beheaded for daring to even look, made your stomach feel weird. It was the very feeling you had been trying to bury for weeks. 

It was dangerous. You’d been working so hard to walk away and he was erasing the line, stretching out his arms to invite you back over. Unwise was what letting him do as he pleased would be, and yet, you found yourself nodding. And when his own hands, warm and large, wrapped around one of yours, you couldn’t fight back the shiver that ran through you. 

He was holding you so softly, in a way no one ever has, and you could only gulp. It was as if you had entered enemy territory, foreign and riddled with land mines that could go off and blow everything up if you so as much as made the wrong step. When his thumb grazed your knuckles, your heart skipped a beat. 

“Nanami,” you began but his hand squeezed yours and you shut up.

Your ex-physics tutor was still staring at your hand, marvelling at the soft skin, his glasses slide down his nose just a little bit, and you had to push it up with your free hand. That caught his attention, as if remembering there was a person attached to the hand he was holding so carefully. 

Clearing his throat, he shook his head, clearly trying to get his bearings. “Y/n, please rethink your decision to drop out.”

“I can’t.” You pulled your hand out of his like it burned. And then you looked away, crossing your arms so you wouldn’t be tempted. “This is for the best.”

“No. You were doing so well, even Professor Yaga had said so.”

With a sigh, you turned back to him, finding his blush endearing. The longer you stared the more it threatened your defences. You couldn’t let him talk you out of it, your sister you could fight off, even Gojo, but not Nanami. Not when every word that came out of his mouth sounded like the Gospel, like undeniable, irrefutable facts. 

Standing, you brushed invisible dust off your skirt and looked anywhere but at him. Unsteady, you asserted, “Nanami, I’ll take you back.”

He shook his head, strands of his hair falling over his forehead, obscuring his vision. You brushed them off, so lush under your palm, and he looked up at you like you were an angel -- mouth slightly parted, he blew air in the space between you, eyes slightly glossy as he watched you. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know?” He whispered, and then added, his brows furrowing, softening his gaze even further, “It hurts to look at you.”

You staggered back, arms falling to your sides as you gaped at him. You didn’t understand what that meant, what he was trying to say, nor why your heart was clenching so painfully, like someone had reached in and squeezed. 

“Maybe you can get your roommate to take you,” you whispered breathlessly.

Nanami shook his head once more, standing up too. His trousers were all crinkled and when he got to his feet he swayed slightly. You rushed over to his side, letting him lean against you. He was heavy, even as he carried most of his weight, and he smelled amazing. Clean, fresh and sweet. It reminded you of a bakery, just after closing, with the scent of butter and vanilla lingering in the air. 

“No, Haibara’s with his sister.” 

You both began walking, ignoring the staring and whistling people were throwing at you as they noticed both of your existence then. Some girls pointed to Nanami, no doubt recognising him from the List. They whispered amongst themselves, blushing and roving his body. You urged him to walk faster.

“Hey, hey, where are you two lovebirds going?” An irritating voice shouted. “You know my rules about fucking in the house. You have to pay a fee.”

Rolling your eyes, you informed him, “I’m taking Nanami home, he’s a little out of it.”

Gojo scanned your ex-tutor’s face, really looking at him and realising you were right. Suddenly, his grin dropped, and he was nodding to the front door. “Alright, I’ll drive. You seem out of it too.”

And just before you all left through the front door, he yelled to his deputy, “Don’t let the place burn down, it's a pain to deal with.”

The car ride to Nanami’s place passed in another relative silence, both of you in the back as you strapped him in, and your friend hummed to the songs on the radio, drumming his fingers. As obnoxious as Gojo could be, there were these rare moments of maturity and wisdom that people didn't see. But you did. You and Suguru, and these were the very moments that reminded you, no matter what, you would always find a home with him.

Parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt, reaching over the slightly light-headed man and unbuckled him too. His hand brushed your hair, gently, always so gentle. You refused to look at him.

“Let me know if you need a ride back,” Gojo threw at you, going on his phone as you fought to get your ex-tutor out, ignoring the glares you were directing towards him. His helpfulness had reached its max, clearly.

“No, she’s staying with me,” Nanami croaked. He slammed the door a little harder than necessary and you winced. Pointing a finger at Gojo through the rolled down window, he slurred, “You can go.”

Not taking any offence whatsoever, the frat president grinned and winked at you. “Alright, have fun, babes. Wrap it before you tap it. Or not. I'm pretty ready to be a fun uncle.”

And then he was driving off, leaving you crumpling under the weight of your responsibility with your jaw on the floor. That prick. Oh, you were so going to make him pay. 

By some miracle, you made it up to his floor with Nanami's jumbled directions, and now here you are, muttering irritated complaints about how clumsy this grown man is despite his age and wisdom.

“Seriously? Nanami, I told you to get it before we reach your door!”

You’re watching Nanami dig through his pockets for his keys, pink tinting the tip of his ears, either with embarrassment or with the warmth of the alcohol. He’s fumbling, muttering curses under his breath as he struggles, clumsy fingers catching on each other. You groan and swat his hands away, trying to get a feel for his keys through his trousers instead. 

This is not your first time dealing with drunk men. But it is your first time with a man as adorable as he is, unfortunately.

“Are you mad at me?”

Glancing up, you look at him, exasperated and unprepared for the pout on his face. His glasses are slanted again, and you have no free hands to push them back up — one hand is already holding him up and the other is buried in his pocket searching for his keys and trying to get past the lip balm in there. 

"No, Nanami. I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed." You hate that you sound just like your mother, but someone has to be the responsible one. You just never thought it'd ever be you.

He winces. “Please, be careful.”

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Nanami flushes harder, the tips of his ears matching and he avoids eye contact, stilling your wrist with a firm hand. “No, you didn’t. It’s just…”

You follow his gaze, both of you looking down and seeing something that shouldn’t be happening. You blink, cartoon character style. This is so very bad. 

Taking a deep breath, you pull the keys out and mutter weakly, “Found it.”

Once you’re inside, you pull Nanami with you, eyeing his place and appreciating the cleanliness; your place is not nearly as tidy as his. But you do see a messy arrangement of papers on his table. You can imagine a busy Nanami, sitting on the sofa, going over the papers and reading out loud under his breath. You smile.

“Alright, big guy. Where’s your room?”

“Buy me dinner first,” he chuckles to himself. He slumps down on the sofa, the leather creaking under his weight and he shrugs off his sweater, the shirt underneath riding up to reveal his abs. You look away. 

Oh, so the man has jokes. 

You’re fighting the urge to walk away and with a shaky breath, full of frustration, you very calmly say, “Nanami, it’s late, sweetheart. You’re going to need to go to bed, okay?”

Then he’s smiling up at you, a gummy smile that’s so dopey you can’t help but smile with him. 

“I like that.” He tilts his head at you. “I like when you call me sweetheart. Do it again.”

Counting to ten, you try again, “Okay, Nanami. I’ll call you sweetheart when you get in bed. It’s a reward.”

He mouths it back, tasting the word and that seems to resonate with him. Raising a hand out, he’s urging you to help him up and so you step forward, ready to bear his weight again, but then you’re being yanked down, and the world turns upside down. 

Nanami’s pinned you to the sofa, leaning over you with a fierce look in his eyes. Gone is the nerdy lightweight, and in his place is the man you’ve caught glimpses of. The one that furrows his brown in a stern scolding, that scribbles frantically on his papers and argues with the professors. Suddenly, he no longer looks his age and instead, appears not as a clumsy college student, but rather as a man. 

The kind of man that could command the attention of an entire room. 

“You did this to me,” he gestures to his hard on, the very same one you’ve been avoiding staring too long at. “Take responsibility, won’t you, darling?”

You choke on your own saliva. What the fuck?

Shaking your head, you remind yourself, he’s drunk, you’re no longer his student, and you’ve been a pain in his ass the entire time. Don’t take anything he says whilst under the influence to heart. It’s just chemicals in his brain. Just a biological urge. It means nothing. 

“Nanami, you’re drunk, let’s drink some water, okay?”

“Four shots is barely anything. I might be a lightweight, but I’m tipsy at most,” he scoffs. Leaning down, he grazes your cheek with his nose, inhaling deep with a groan. “You always smell so good.”

He might claim to be sober enough, but you’re not convinced. Sure, you can’t deny that you want him, but you don’t want him like this; you don’t want to be wanted because the alcohol has clouded his judgment. You want to be seen, as you are and not just another warm body to pass the time. 

Slowly, gently and with as much patience as you can muster, you nudge his head from your neck, and say, “You need to let me go, Nanami.”

“No.”

“Nanami.”

“I don’t want you to leave me.” That gravelly voice is back, the one weighed down by some inner turmoil you aren’t privy to, and you can only bite your lip when he presses a tender kiss at the crook of your neck. “I want you any way you’ll let me.”

You’re tearing up. It might be because he’s whispering it right by your ear or because his words sound so sincere, but you feel your bottom lip quiver. This isn’t how the night was supposed to go; you wanted to let loose and forget everything by partying life away, but now you’re practically cuddling with your physics tutor. Ex physics tutor.

Despite being a little out of it and shaking with some unknown emotion, he isn’t suffocating you with his weight. He’s holding himself up in a plank, inhaling your scent and fighting off your weak pushes. 

“Please, Nanami. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, okay?”

“You promise?” He lifts his head, lashes fluttering as he searches your features for any hint of deception. “You’re not going to avoid me?”

You shake your head, and he sighs, smiling. 

“Good, because I really don’t like it when you do that.”

And then he’s pushing off. A cool breeze brushes past you and you’re shivering from the sudden loss of warmth. Nanami disappears into a room you’re assuming is his and you go to the kitchen to get a glass of water. When you enter his room, he’s only in his boxers, climbing into bed. 

He lifts the cover up and pats the empty space beside him, grumbling, “Come on, I’m cold.”

You sigh, ripping the cover from his hands and tuck him in. “No, Nanami. I’m not sleeping with you. I’m going now so I'll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Almost breaking out into laughter at the scowl that graces his face, you have to distract yourself by pulling his glasses off and folding them onto his bedside table. Like this, he looks so youthful. No longer frowning over data variables or anomalistic lab results, he’s just lying peacefully. 

"You aren't better off taking a different course. You work well under my tutelage. Grant me the opportunity to change your mind about everything. Let me show you I didn't mean the things I said," he pleads, eyes flutterings shut.

Hesitant, you say, "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Nanami."

"Just one chance, y/n. Don't cross this off simply because we reached a bump. You trusted my guidance before, trust me now."

You don't know what exactly he's referring to and you're too scared to ask. All you can do is watch sincerity, a raw kind of pleading, swirl in his vibrant eyes. He has you in his palms and he doesn't even realise.

"Okay."

He’s fast asleep when you leave. 

You don’t bother Gojo for a ride back to your home, you texted him your sister's picking you up. She might be asleep by now but you'll wake her up anyways, so you can tell her about everything that's happened and ask for her two cents, because you think Nanami practically confessed his feelings for you. But that doesn’t make sense with all that’s unfolded, right?

How could he possibly like a girl like you?

You’re loud, boisterous, air-headed, and not the kind of girl one takes home to their mother. He deserves a girl that’s as smart, as put together, and mature and wise as he is. Deserves one that hasn’t been tainted by bad decision and nightmares.

Sighing again — you’ve been doing a lot of that lately — you walk home, in the dark, fighting the urge to look back. And as the night’s chill prick your skin, you wonder how Nanami will feel in the morning. 

Embarrassment, shame, humiliation?

Whatever it’ll be, you just hope it isn’t regret. 

You have enough of that for the both of you.

[drownedthemall]

sweetness of her laughter

part 2 - misjudged

next part

caracalla x noble!reader x geta 

2.1k words

a/n - i didn’t expect anyone to even read this fic !! especially part one, that part really is not that good :)

summary - you’ve been escorted to rome on behalf of the emperors. you stand before them, what will they decide to do with you now?

There was a change in the atmosphere, you could feel it. This led you to believe that you were now in Rome. Not only did it feel like the temperature rose to an unsettling degree, but the sheer amount of people surrounding every street was unimaginable. People were stood staring, some were almost clawing their way through to see who was the person General Acacius was accompanying. Not just accompanying, but personally escorting to see the Emperors. You weren't very talkative with the General throughout your travels together. But now, you couldn't help but ask questions as you were nearing the residence of the Emperors.

"General?" you ask, which came out way quieter than you had imagined, but fortunatley he heard you.

"Yes, Princess?"

"Are you aware of how many other nobles will be part of this whole fiasco..?", you fumble with your hands as you speak. You try to ignore his stare and redirect yours to the outside. You noticed carriages further away, of what seemed to have once been free people, were now slaves, getting carted away. The carriage tilts enough for the sun to dust your face, blinding you momentarily. "You are the first they've decided to personally invite.", his sombre voice declares.

You begin to feel nauseous at the statement. "What?" is all you can muster. He laughs at your reaction, finding amusement in your whirling storm of emotions.

"They have been sending out letters to a select few nobles that they deemed 'worthy', and they all eagerly accepted, except..." he nods to you.

"So, just because of that, I'm the first on the menu?" you huff, you had changed into your royal garments by now, but they were still too warm for such a climate. "Even then it wasn't my doing." you mull over your thoughts.

"All I can say is, good luck, Princess," he says with sincerity, hand over his chest. Symbolising his heart.

You shake your head, you can basically feel the aura of the Emperors oozing and you're not even there yet. You were unnerved that the Emperors even knew of your existence, the fact they chose you over your sister, who despite her attitude, was more than prepared to rule. You, however, were not, you knew of your sister's claim to the crown, which you had no issue with. You did what you were interested in and never bothered to even think of leading a Kingdom, and sure as hell, not the Roman Empire. You enjoyed having close to no responsibilities. You sigh, this invitation doesn't even guarantee you'll be Empress, this will only be a play to humiliate you for your own father's misstep. You've heard many stories of the Emperors. Everyone has.

The carriage comes to a halt. You look at the General, your eyes probably resembling that of a kicked puppy. He chuckles and pats your shoulder, "Come on, kid." He steps out of the carriage, holding out his hand for you to take. You see the stark difference between your own and his. His definitely belonged to that of a general, they were worn, rough, and showed years of commitment to his work. Despite you also having skills in weaponry, yours didn't compare one bit. You felt respect for him and his dedication.

You oblige and accept his hand, stepping out and feeling the sun above and its effects already. He holds onto your hand for longer than you deem necessary but appreciate it nonetheless. He and some praetorians guide you into where the Emperors reside. As you step foot inside, you feel relief from the cool marble beneath you and around you. You felt as if you could finally breathe again. That semblance of peace doesn't last long as you reach the room where they are known for throwing all sorts of celebrations

Your breath hitches. It seems it was just them two. The one who you assumed to be Caracalla was sprawled out and shamelessly enjoying the company of his concubines. Their hands reached and groped at his pale skin and silk. He was lavished in gold, from earrings to rings, to cuffs and all sorts of gold embellishments throughout his toga. The gold stood out against his complexion. Then there was Geta, he was also adorned in riches, but he on the other hand was mostly glamoured with silver and cooler tones of silk. However, their concubines weren't as bare either. Some of them, the favoured ones you presume, were also glistening in jewels. It was a sight to see. A sore one, but a sight. The both of them really did have an aura around them, no wonder people call them gods.

Geta seemed lost in thought as he swirled the deep red wine in his cup, staring off into the distance. They must be waiting for someone. Small giggles and sweet nothings can be heard from Caracalla's entourage, with him indulging in their soft-spoken words.

They hadn't yet registered the presence of you two, as neither you nor the general wanted to step to the centre of the room. However, Caracalla perked up as he noticed a glimmer of Acacius' armour.

He smiles broadly, "Acacius!!", he announces with his arms wide open. Geta looks over and wordlessly signals for the both of you to come closer. Each step on the marble floor felt slower than the next. As if you were walking to your death. The two Emperors shoo away the whores surrounding them, wanting to dedicate all of their attention to the entertainment that stood before them.

The General stands tall and begins, "Emperor Caracalla, Emperor Geta", he greets as he directs his attention to each of them.

"Acacius.", Geta greets in return, "Seems you have now earned your awaited respite, have you not?" he says stone-faced.

Caracalla finds this very humourous, giggling at his brother's words. "Yes, he really has brother, after all, he's done as asked...", lightly pointing in your direction, eyeing you, fiddling with his rings. His eyes scope you from head to toe, lingering on every uncovered area of your body. Which didn't leave him satisfied. Your attire didn't match those of the Romans. You feel your skin crawl, uncomfortable at such ogling.

From what you understood, Acacius had already conquered Numidia and was sent to get you straight after his conquest. You suppose that explains his unwillingness to negotiate. Not that the Emperors would have approved either way.

You tried to calm your thoughts and ignore one of the Emperors embedding stares. "Princess," Geta states, you politely nod, "Emperor Geta".

He hums "Hope, you weren't too startled by the entrance of our General," he fakes sincerity, barely holding back his smirk. He then glances towards his brother, who breaks like a dam.

"Haha, mhm. We're glad you're a poor shot, we wouldn't want Acacius here to have his eternal respite just yet" Caracalla laughs and giggles throughout his little joke.

"We'd have no choice but to wed Lucilla!" Geta jabs and laughs as he looks for the Generals reaction. Feeling dissatisfied when he doesn't outwardly react.

Geta calms, his demeanour changing. "But, please, don't let the avant-garde gesture affect the way you view us", he says, keeping his eyes on you. He adjusts in his seat.

Caracalla nods, "It's what needed to be done", he leans back, sprawling his legs out again.

You have trouble maintaining eye contact with either of them, transitioning from one to the other. As they settle down, Acacius pipes up. "She's travelled far, I'd suggest, Emperors, you let her rest for the day.", he tries to explain carefully.

They go silent for a second, exchanging glances. Geta starts, "You make a point, Acacius."

Caracalla nods "She should rest up and change..." he looks over you again, "..into some more appropriate clothing", he stopped mid sentence as if his thoughts drifted off elsewhere.

Geta gives him a bit of a disapproving look before directing his attention to you. "Yes, he is right, not to mention now that the General is back, the games shall finally begin.", he claps at the final statement.

"Which you will attend, Acacius", Caracalla leans forward and pointedly chuckles.

---

You were led to your personal chambers. They were guarded by two praetorians and were located close to the Emperors own. Which you weren't too fond of, it made you worry if anything.

The room was spacious, meant for royalty, you couldnt deny that. You saw that the wardrobe was open and filled with all kinds of silky clothing for you to wear. Which you knew would provide some ease for the heat you were experiencing. You’re stopped by a servant entering your chambers. You turn towards them expecting someone else.

"For you, Princess", she states as she places the bowl of fruit onto a small engraved table nearby. "From Emperor Geta himself", she finishes as she turns on her heel and leaves.

Your heart warms, this was oddly welcoming? Unexpected. However, you felt you couldn't let your guard down. You decide to change into something more comfortable before letting yourself indulge in the fruits before you.

The fruits consist of all kinds, not just home to Rome. Every single one you’ve tried so far was so sweet and refreshing. You head to the balcony with the bowl in hand. You gaze at the sky, and how it changed from all shades of blue to orange. This makes you think of home and how distant it is from where you stand now.

You wonder if your family misses you and if your father feels any remorse or regret. You've only just arrived and you feel more isolated than ever. You wonder… if this doesn't work out, will they let you go? Or will their bruised egos make sure to rid of you? You reach for another piece of sliced pear, only to feel the bottom of the bowl... You're afraid that this loneliness may affect your judgment.

Your head swiftly turns as you hear a few knocks on the door of your chamber. You waltz to the other side of the room, lightly treading to the door. As you open it, the other person doesn't wait for you to even register their presence, they just push themselves past you. You see a blur of orange and red and blink a few times before setting your eyes on them. It’s Caracalla. You've heard rumours of how unpredictable he is, well, they both are. The reason he is, however, is because of some sort of disease… If what you've heard from people is right.

"Emperor Caracalla," you say slightly flustered at his sudden entrance. You push the door shut. He waits for you and stands before you with a smile, "Princess."

You were unnerved, "Yes, Emperor..? Is there some wa-", he cut you off.

"I knocked!" he shouts, smugly.

What. You furrowed your eyebrows, "Mhm, you did..." you respond utterly confused at the declaration. He acted as if it was some sort of achievement.

Caracalla hums and takes a few steps forward, cornering you, "See? I've been on my best behaviour..." He ends this by gliding his nose against your collarbones, taking in your scent. His hands find their way to your waist, lightly taking hold of you. You feel his breath against your skin, you can smell the oils and perfumes he lathers himself with. All of a sudden you’re feeling warm again. He locks eyes with you, and this leads him to step back, slightly. "I like the change of outfit", he starts.

"The colour red…”, he begins as his eyes swerve over you, appreciating the way the silky garment is draped over your curves, “..is my favourite."

"..Oh, thank you, I'm glad then." you're unsure of what to say in this predicament.

He giggles at your response and then says calmly, "I'll let you rest," he takes your hand in his and kisses your knuckles, kissing each one separately. All while maintaining eye contact.

He then unexpectedly pulled your hand over his shoulder, making it so that there was no space between the two of you. His mouth was by your ear. "Sleep well", he whispers softly, the warmth of his breath faning over the side of your face.

You shy away at the forwardness and unexpected proximity, "..Thank you, Emperor, I hope rest finds you well." you lightly respond. You noticed that his smile widened.

"Empress." he declares, before leaving a chaste kiss on your cheek. He loosens his grip on you and scurries out of the room. Thud. The door shuts and you're left alone once more. His ghostly touches still linger on your body. Leaving you to wonder if this actually happened or if you have gone mad. You stand there in the same spot he left you, hand over your cheek. You're not sure what to feel anymore.

taglist - @duckyhowls @himikoquack <3

[acmeangel]

♡ Levi hires you to work at his tea shop, and the two of you become close.

♡ SFW fluff! ♡ Postwar!Levi x Fem!Reader ♡ One shot, soft Levi, friends to lovers vibes ♡ Word count: 2416 ♡ Summary: Levi hired you years ago to work at his tea shop, back when it was brand new. Over the years, you became close friends, and recently developed into more. You're both a bit rough around the edges, but get each other in a way no one else can. You're like two black cats in love.

It was years ago that you'd walked by Levi's tea shop in Marley and noticed the piece of paper pinned to the door that simply said "Hiring." in bold, slightly messy, handwriting.

Your eyebrows raised despite yourself, slightly amused by the straightforwardness of the sign -- no frills, no details, no niceties.

Marley had only just started to get on its feet again after a full year of scraping by while rebuilding, trying to shake off the lingering fears and treat the deepest wounds. Everyone was on the precipice of healing, and you figured it was as good a time as any to bring back some normalcy into your life. Working at a tea shop seemed like a decent enough way to do that; quiet, peaceful, easy enough. You were never much of a people person, but you could handle basic customer interactions.

When you'd entered the tea shop, you were met with Levi, who was behind the counter, a focused -- but not harsh -- look on his face as he neatly stacked boxes of tea into an orderly pyramid, a small display of the tea flavors. The bell above the door jingled as you entered, and he looked up at you, his gaze narrowing slightly, his hands pausing their precise movements. You got a clear look at his face -- the cloudy white eye, the healing scars tracing patterns into his skin.

"Hiring?" You asked, simply, nodding toward the sign on the window.

His eyes darted toward the sign, as if he'd forgotten that he put it there, and then fell back onto you.

"Guess so," he answered, his voice lacking any sort of feeling about the matter. "You want to work here?"

Before answering, your gaze scanned along the interior of the tea shop -- it was small and sparsely decorated, but not in a cold way. It was simple, comforting. Small wooden tables dotted the perimeter, intricately painted ceramic tea cups were stacked behind the counter, a few plants sat in the windowsills, drinking in the hazy sunlight.

"Yeah." Your gaze found his again, and you nodded. "I do."

"'Kay." His focus returned to the pyramid of tea boxes, his hands continuing to organize the stack. "What makes you qualified?"

"It's making tea," you retorted, dryly, without thinking. "Not mechanical engineering." You regretted it the instant you said it, realizing you'd likely butchered your chances of getting hired and that you should've made something up about having a passion for serving the community.

Without moving his head, his eyes drifted toward you, and you could see the faintest look of amusement tugging on his lips.

"Fine." This was all he had said, and you waited for him to ask more questions to evaluate you further, but they never came.

You stood there, somewhat awkwardly, watching as he continued working on his little display of boxes. Once he was finished, he tossed an apron over the counter toward you, which you caught, the fabric balled up into your hands. You were hired.

Surprisingly, it didn't take long for you to get accustomed to working alongside Levi. Neither of you were particularly talkative, preferring to keep to yourselves as you did your individual tasks; but, even separately, you worked in perfect harmony together, a seamless fit.

Over the years, it became less that you worked for Levi, and more that you worked with him, the tea shop turning into something that belonged to the both of you. It was never something that was discussed, it was just understood.

You'd started adding your touches to the shop -- art hung on the walls, pillows on the chairs, little knickknacks here and there. The shop was undeniably warmer and more inviting, and even though Levi would narrow his gaze each time you added something new, he never stopped you.

One day, he'd even shown up and placed a small ceramic cat on the counter, adjusting its position just so, though he wouldn't tell you where he got it. You'd teased him, somewhat relentlessly, about it, to which he blushed despite himself and muttered that it was never going to happen again, that you were a horrible nuisance in his life; you called him "such a baby", but made him a cup of black tea and all was forgiven. He brought a new plant into the shop the following week.

You'd share knowing glances with each other whenever a customer was particularly talkative or bothersome, and after they'd leave, you'd gripe to each other about it.

During breaks or lulls in the day, you'd both hover over the same book on the counter, reading simultaneously, your shoulders brushed together just barely. You wouldn't say anything, or even share your thoughts or opinions -- you'd just read, together, settled into the quiet of the tea shop.

As the time passed on, you'd begun to care for Levi, in a way you hadn't expected, hadn't experienced before. When he'd occasionally burn his hand on the stove, you'd hold the ice to his hand. When he had a cold (which he'd never admit to), you'd bring him soup from the cafe down the street. When you could tell he hadn't been sleeping well, you'd tell him to go home early and you'd handle cleaning up and closing the shop.

He'd always frown slightly and say something about how you shouldn't go through the trouble, that he can take care of himself, but you could tell that he appreciated it, that he might have even begun to count on it. You'd usually just tell him to shut up. He'd laugh, barely.

You knew, somehow, that you were the only person he let treat him this way -- gentle, caring.

You two had developed a quiet sort of friendship. You didn't talk all that much, you never saw each other outside of the shop, and you were both a bit rough around the edges. But, you fit together. Understood each other. It was as simple as that.

That was how it had been for years, which is why it took you by surprise when, on one particularly cold winter night, Levi insisted on walking you home after closing. You'd hesitated for a moment to answer, recalling all of the rainy, snowy, cold late nights that you'd walked home alone before, but the expression on his face told you that any protesting would be pointless. So, you let him.

Once you'd arrived at your front door, the two of you lingered silently on your porch, the only sound the soft creaking of the wood below and the brisk wind shuffling through the trees.

"Thanks for walking me home, Levi," you'd said, pulling your key out of your coat pocket and beginning to reach for the door. "Goodni-"

His hand clasped around your wrist, halting your movement. Your eyes snapped up to his face, his gaze secured onto his grip on your wrist. A stretched moment of quiet passed between you two, as you waited for him to say something, but he didn't.

"Okay," you said, drawing the word out, raising an eyebrow slightly as you look at him. "Are you holding me hostage because you think it'd be funny to see me freeze to death out here, or...?"

The tension in his expression dissipated slightly, your dry, teasing tone eased his frayed nerves with a comforting familiarity. He'd gotten used to you, to the way you spoke; it became one of the few, small things he'd ever allowed himself to rely on.

"Y/N," he said, his tone taking on a softness, a somewhat pleading vulnerability that you'd never heard before, as his eyes finally drifted up to meet your gaze. The cloudy grayness in his eye faded into a pale, ethereal blue under the moonlight, the features of his face illuminated, exposed.

He didn't have to say another word. You knew exactly what he meant. That was just the way you two worked.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, knowingly, the word pillowing into the cold air.

His hand slid down your wrist to your hand, his rough, calloused fingers gripping around yours with a sense of uncertainty and newness, like he was learning a new language. He tugged gently, drawing you in, close enough that when both of you breathed, the visible clouds mixed together.

His free hand rose to your face, slowly grasping around your jaw. His teeth clenched slightly, a hint of self-consciousness in his gaze as he looked at the gap his missing fingers left on your cheek; feeling unable to hold you completely.

"Don't," you whispered, somewhat sternly, urging the self-doubt out of his gaze. Your hand flew up to cover his, holding it against your face, the missing fingers not even a thought in your mind.

"You always do that." The words came out as a rough, tumbling statement.

Your lips curled into a faint smile, your head tilted into his palm. "Do what?"

"Protect me," he whispered, his eyes searching yours, "from myself, mostly."

"Can't help it," you whispered back, the words softening his gaze even further.

Before he could think about it more, before he could stop himself, he pulled you in closer, only a sliver of cold air between your lips. He paused for a beat, drawing in a shallow breath, before closing the space. His lips trembled against yours for a fleeting second, before melting against yours. A perfect fit.

His grip on your cheek tightened slightly, his lips moved against yours with a quiet desperation, as if communicating all the words he'd been wanting to say.

He broke the kiss just as suddenly as it started, his lips remaining parted, soft and glistening.

"Goodnight, Y/N," he whispered, before leaning in to press a kiss on your cheek by your ear, his thumb brushing against your jaw one last time. He took one last look at you, his expression somewhat unreadable, before turning and walking away, leaving you at your doorstep.

That night was not too long ago, only a few weeks had passed since. Your relationship was like a delicate melody -- starting slow and gentle, then blooming into a perfectly synchronized symphony.

He'd started walking you home every night, and he'd come inside for a while, sitting on your couch with you, talking more than he ever had (which still wasn't much, by most people's standards). You'd make dinner for the two of you, drape a blanket on his lap on the couch, gently tend to the scars on his face when they'd occasionally get irritated.

You'd lean your head on his shoulder, intertwine your fingers with his. Sometimes, he'd lean into your touch, slinging an arm around you and letting his head settle into the curve of your neck. Your fingers would stroke his hair softly or trace patterns up and down his back.

He'd always thank you at the end of the night and kiss you as if you were about to disappear into thin air. While he never specified what he was thanking you for, you knew he was thanking you for taking care of him.

That's all you really wanted to do -- care for him. You knew that his scars ran deeper than the visible ones, and the more he shared bits of his past with you, you could tell that he never had it easy. His life, until now, was one of fighting, survival, and loss. All you wanted was to alleviate some of the pain, some of the weight that had built up within him for so long.

So, you did these little things to dote on him, to show him what true affection felt like, in hopes that someday, he'd realize how deserving he is of it. That over time, the little things would grow into bigger things, that affection wouldn't be so foreign and unsettling to him. You were willing to wait.

He was standing by your front door now, slinging his jacket onto his shoulders, preparing to head home after another night spent together. You'd sat on the couch, his head on your shoulder, and he'd just finished telling you a simple story about Furlan and Isabel, who you'd learned about recently.

"Levi," you begin, your eyes shifting toward the window, at the powdery snow flurrying through the air. "It's freezing outside, you need more than a jacket."

His gaze follows yours out the window, his expression remaining unfazed. "It's just snow, Y/N."

You ignore him, and grab a knit, brightly colored scarf from the coat rack and hand it to him, your expression stern, but gentle. "Wear this."

"What? You can't be serious. I'll look ridiculous," he looks at you and the scarf dubiously, his brows pressed together with distaste. "I'll be fine."

"Would you just shut up and take it?" You roll your eyes, but you smile, affectionately. Before he can object further, you wrap the scarf around him, earning a groan from the back of his throat.

His nose scrunches slightly in disapproval, and the corners of his lips curve downward, but he lets you finish placing the scarf around his neck.

"Thanks, Y/N," he mumbles, leaning in to kiss your cheek, the touch soft and fleeting.

Mhm, you hum softly, satisfied with your little victory. You think he's about to turn and leave, but he doesn't -- he stands there, still, looking at you for a long moment.

"What, hoping to get a matching beanie?" You tease, warmly, a laugh escaping your lips.

He shakes his head.

"I told you a while ago that I never felt like I had a home before. Not a real one, anyway. But..." he says, his voice taking on a softened introspection, a gentleness to his face that you've discovered he reserves only for you. "I think this is it."

"Marley? Yeah, it's not so bad. Told you you'd get used to it," you say, a gentle, affectionate teasing in your voice, your fingers adjusting the scarf around his neck.

"No, Y/N. Not Marley," he corrects, his voice barely above a whisper, his gaze remaining intently fixated on yours. "You. You're my home."

Your expression melts, a faint pink blush rising to your cheeks. Your hand drifts up from the scarf to cradle his cheek, your thumb tracing his cheekbone.

He turns his head, his eyes remaining on you, and he presses a soft kiss into your palm. The kiss feels like he's making a promise to always be yours, and for you to always be his.

Masterlist

Requests are OPEN!

Requested by @beautiful-is-boring

[reidsmanuscript]

Seven Seconds

Summary: when Katie Jacob's gets abducted in a Mall, setting the clock for the BAU, who needs a legal favor, and it's been a year since the A.D.A. has know anything about Spencer Reid. Pairing: Spencer Reid x lawyer!reader Genre: pinning, SLOW BURN, maybe right moment?, angst bc i love angst wc: 4.6k! (i know so small comparing to part 1 bear with me) TW: cm canon typical violence, set in 05x3 "Seven seconds" (obviously lol), sexual violence, implied reader's dark past, glimpses of female rage. A/N: my idea for the serie is be taylor jenkins reid and have you question if lawyer reader exists or not (delusional bitch), english is not my first language and let's pretend it's proofread part I - part II - part III - part IV

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Spencer sat on the park bench reading a book while playing chess with Ethan, brilliant kid for his age and good opponent, not good enough tho because when he cheered “I see checkmate in 5, What do you see?” It took Spencer one glance to calculate all the movements necessary.

“I see it in 3” he answered looking at his book again, the kid turned around the board and moved the pieces

“We've missed you out here” he said, staring at the board amazed.

“Thanks. I, uh, I had to take a little break”

“How come?” His hands froze on the book for a second before closing it.

Spencer had been clean for over a year now, it was 14 months and 2 weeks ago that he had freaked out after noticing his stash of Dialud was gone along with his needle. Where could he find more? Who knew about his addiction? Where was his stash? Who the fuck is Dr. Fitzgerald? Did you report him?

His first instinct was confronting you, given that you were the only person who found out his drugs that he knew, the first days he was a complete paranoid, he jumped every time Hotch called his name, or that Gideon looked at him a little too long.

At the end of the week he was thinking where he could find more, and when that thought scared him, he called the number of the card you had left in the same pocket his drugs used to be.

“Hello this is Dr. Fitzgerald” said a calm voice, it was 10 p.m. so there was a higher chance of going to voicemail, but he got an answer and the tremor of his hands got a little worse. Was it the anxiety or the withdrawal?

“Umm hello.. this is.. Dr.. this is Spencer Reid and someon-""I've been waiting for your call Dr Reid” the other line interrupted, he froze for a second.

“I used to play with a co-worker friend of mine. He's probably the best mind I ever went up against. One day, he just decided that he didn't want to play anymore.”

Fast forward, she helped him get clean and stay clean after Gideon left, getting tested regularly, and gave him the contact of the help group of FBI addicts. He was better, he was alive.

“So you gave up, too?”

“Just the opposite. I attempted to play Through every permutation of moves on a chessboard.”

“That's an infinite number of games.”

“It's not infinite. It's just- it's exponentially large.”

“You couldn't have played through them all.”

“There's an average of 40 moves per chess game, And I'll tell you something– the more I played, The more I realized that every single match every single chess game, Is really just a simple variation on the exact same theme. You know? It's aggressive opening, Patient mid-game, inevitable checkmate, And I realized why my friend quit. He was tired of repeating the same patterns And expecting a different outcome.”

“That's because you haven't come up on Fridays or Mondays in a while” the way his eyebrows went up along his voice tone made him feel like he knew something that he didn't.

His eyebrows furrowed “What do you mean?”

“There's this great player who comes around those days, she even brings the best pastries, and her games is similar to yours, always two or three moves ahead, she always beats everyone here… i think her boyfriend called her Buzz or something like that, like the Toy Story character”

“Buzz?… i don't really remember anyone with that nickname”

“It’s probably not that one but you don't know her because she started coming like 8 months ago.. I'm sure you have a lifetime of chess strategy in your head that you're just sitting on, but when you meet her?” He made a dramatic pause “You'll have to play it.”

He glances at his watch to realize his 15 minute break is coming to an end. “I still use it. I just, uh... I apply it differently. I have to go. It's good seeing you.”

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That evening, the BAU was called in for a local case—a little girl, Katie, had been kidnapped from a busy mall. A week earlier, another girl had been taken from the same location and found dead hours later. Now, they were all racing against the clock.

Katie’s parents were desperate. As any parents would be in this situation, right? But when Hotch asked the father if either of them was having an affair—a routine question in abductions—the man took offense. Deep offense. So much so that he refused to let the FBI search their house.

Now, what kind of parent refuses to help the police find their missing child?

In a small surveillance room, Morgan and Reid sat with Garcia, who was visibly frustrated by the mall’s ancient security system. They were surrounded by screens displaying grainy footage from different angles—well, almost every angle. They had a single glimpse of Katie in one video, and then, seven seconds later, she was gone.

JJ and Prentiss were with the mother, aunt, and uncle, trying to get a read on the family dynamic. Meanwhile, Morgan and Reid had conducted a cognitive interview with Katie’s cousin. It had led nowhere.

“The family has refused permission to search the house,” Hotch announced as he stepped into the room.

“What do you mean they denied?” Morgan’s frustration was evident. “Your only child goes missing, and you refuse to collaborate?”

No one disagreed. They were all thinking the same thing.

“The cousin didn’t say much,” Reid added. “He was too distracted in the game room to notice anything.”

Hotch exhaled sharply. “I’ll speak to the detectives, see if we can get a warrant.” His tone was firm, but they all knew time wasn’t on their side.

Garcia adjusted her glasses. “Sir, I mean this in the best way possible, but it’s almost 8 p.m. I don’t think-”

“I’ll handle it,” Morgan interrupted.

All Reid and Garcia turned to him with identical looks. What do you mean you will handle it?

Hotch’s eyebrows furrowed, but after a moment, he gave a small nod and walked away. Morgan was already pulling out his phone.

“I have a contact,” he explained, dialing.

He put the phone on speaker. It rang once. Twice. On the third ring, a voice answered—sharp, direct, and all business.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

Reid went rigid.

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It was late in the office; most people had already gone home, including your assistant Molly. All but Austin, who was still there because he had a lead on one of your cases. You knew he was still hanging around because, over a year ago, when someone had snuck into your office to harm you, you’d become a little paranoid. You’d gotten better, but Austin insisted on keeping you company, especially since your car was in the mechanic’s.

You were reviewing a legal brief, pen in hand, skimming the margins to jot down notes when the desk phone rang. Without looking up, you hit the speaker button with the tip of the pen.

“A.D.A. Woodvale.”

There was a beat of silence before a familiar voice cut in—smooth, direct, urgent.

Morgan called your name “Hey. We need a warrant. Fast.” You blinked, setting the pen down.

Reid and Garcia exchanged glances as Morgan jumped in without hesitation.

“Katie Jacobs. Eight years old. Abducted from a mall earlier tonight,” Morgan started, all business. “Another girl was taken from the same place a week ago—she was found dead hours later. We’re working against the clock.”

You frowned, swirling the pen, going through the multiple scenarios. You had heard about last week’s case, and how slow the police had moved back then.

“We’ve got mall surveillance footage,” Morgan pressed. “At first, we thought she just vanished, but Garcia finally pulled something from one of the side corridors. Katie wasn’t taken by force—she was walking calmly with someone.”

Your fingers tightened slightly around her pen. “Someone she knows.”

“Exactly,” Morgan confirmed. “That narrows it down to family or close acquaintances.” They all shared a silent thought. Family.

We know they’re hiding something,” Morgan corrected. “We just don’t have the probable cause to kick the door down.”

Garcia watched as Morgan paced slightly, his tone firm but urgent.

“That’s thin, Morgan,” Your voice came through the speaker, steady and unyielding.

“We don’t have time for airtight,” Morgan countered.

Your jaw tightened. “You don’t have time for me to get laughed out of a judge’s office, either. Refusing a search isn’t a crime, and suspicion alone doesn’t cut it. I need more.” You understood where the suspicious came from, how are you supposed to help them if they had nothing?

There was a pause. A beat of silence. Then, another voice—one you hadn’t heard in over a year.

“99% of abducted children who are killed due within the first 24 hours” He cleared his throat, willing his voice to stay even. Spencer Reid. “75% within the first 3 hours, and what only law enforcement knows is Jessica Davis joined the 44% of children who are abducted and killed within the first hour. We’re already past the three-hour mark. If we don’t act now, statistically speaking—”

“The likelihood of recovery drops exponentially,” You sighed, already standing up, ignoring how his voice sounded. So different. So… clean.

Your gaze flicked to the clock. 8:06 p.m. Damn it.

You grabbed a blank warrant form from her drawer and reached for a pen. “Send me the address and everything else you have. Give me 20 minutes.”

Click. You didn’t have time for goodbyes.

Austin raised an eyebrow from his seat. “Guess you’re not going home anytime soon.”

You didn’t look up as you started writing. “I never was.”

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The courthouse was mostly deserted at this hour. The fluorescent lights hummed quietly, and the stillness of the evening was only interrupted by the sharp click of your heels on the polished floors followed by Austin’s boots toward the judge’s chambers.

“You sure you don’t want me to take this one? Sweet-talk her maybe?” he teased.

You shot him a look. “You think Judge Holloway is the type to be charmed? Plus, you’re a private investigator, not a lawyer.”  

“She’s not gonna like you showing up this late.”  

You didn’t miss a beat. “If she’s still up, she’ll make time for this.”  

Taking a steadying breath as you stopped in front of the door, you quickly ran through your notes, making sure you had every detail in order. Then, without hesitation, you pushed through the heavy wooden doors of Judge Evelyn Holloway’s chambers.  

Inside, the judge barely glanced up from her paperwork. “You have two minutes, Woodvale.”

Stepping forward, you set the warrant request on the desk. “Your Honor, I apologize for the late hour, but we have a child abduction case we’re working against the clock. A young girl, Katie Jacobs, was taken from a mall over three hours ago. We’ve obtained surveillance footage showing her walking with an individual—someone she likely knows. We believe the family is withholding information, and they’ve refused to allow us to search the residence.”

The judge narrowed his eyes, folding her hands on the desk. “And what do you propose I do about it? What evidence do you have to warrant a search?”

Alex kept her voice steady. “We have footage of the girl with someone who wasn’t a stranger, Your Honor. The parents are refusing cooperation, and the father was evasive when asked about possible affairs, which raises red flags about his involvement.”

Holloway sighed, leaning back in her chair. “That’s thin.” You were ready for that.

“I have the full footage from the mall security, including a timestamp showing the precise time the girl went missing. She is last seen walking calmly with someone she knows, most likely family.”

There was a brief pause, and for a second, you thought you were about to lose her. So you pulled Reid’s words from memory, adjusting them just enough to make them your own.

“Time is working against us. Statistics show that 99% of abducted children who are murdered lose their lives within the first 24 hours 75% within just the first three. And only law enforcement-”

She cut you off with a raised hand, signaling you to stop.

The judge exhaled through her nose, it was late and you were rambling about statistics and you knew she wanted you out as soon as possible when you started citing numbers. So pushing himself out of her chair with a slight groan. “Fine. Get me the paperwork. I’ll sign it—but you better have your ducks in a row.”

You nodded, her demeanor unflinching. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

As you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the hours ahead of you. But you were used to this—fighting against the clock.

“Let’s move,” motioning to Austin. He gave you a small nod. “You got it.”

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Exactly 15 minutes after the call, 5 minutes earlier than promised, Morgan’s phone rang. He answered it without even looking. 

"You got your warrant. I'll meet you there," Alex’s voice came through, crisp and businesslike, just as expected.

Morgan exhaled, his relief barely hidden. "Thank you, Woody."

He paused for a moment before adding, "I owe you one," then hung up, turning to Reid.

“Tell Hotch we’re heading to the Jacobs’ house,” he instructed, already moving toward the door.

Spencer had been timing her. It wasn’t the first time he'd gotten caught up in the tense waiting game of law and order, but the pressure of it had a different weight today. The memory of your voice, clear and resolute, echoed in his mind, sharper than before.

For Reid, part of getting clean wasn't just the physical withdrawal—it was the emotional weight of confronting his mistakes. The memory of how he'd lashed out at you a year ago still haunted him. How could he have been so cruel? The hurt in your eyes, the way he dismissed you, the way it all spiraled… it wasn’t just the drugs that had made him say those things. And the fury he saw when you looked at him, Dialuid in hand, how you looked like a timing bomb when he was trying to see if he could talk to you, the tension in your shoulders, the lock in your jaw, the grip on the file. He’d been battling so much more since then, in his mind, you saved his life by doing what he couldn't do.

He’d rather die than relive that moment again, than say those things. And yet, here he was, standing in the middle of another chaotic case, still carrying that guilt with him. He stayed behind Morgan for just a beat before pushing down his feelings and moving quickly. 

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The engine of Austin's bike rumbled to a stop as they pulled up in front of the house, where Morgan and Reid were standing in front of the black SUV. You slid off the back with practiced ease, taking off the helmet and letting your hair fall loose.

Austin followed your lead, taking his helmet off with a groan. “So, what exactly are we looking for?”

You shot him a quick, sidelong glance, handing him the helmet, keeping your expression flat knowing he’s about to be a drama queen. “You’re not coming inside. The warrant’s for FBI and police only. Not P.I.s included”

Austin paused, a mock pout crossing his face. “Excuse me? I just got you here, through all that traffic, risking myself to get a speeding ticket and now I don’t get to search? This is the second time in the night that you P.I. shaming me. Do you hate me?”

“If I hated you I wouldn’t have bailed your ass out of jail… twice” you remark the last part. He had a talent for sticking his foot where he shouldn’t be, maybe that’s what makes him good at his job.

“You act like you wouldn’t do it a third time” he was mocking, but he was right, something you would never admit to him. 

You start walking to the house “Mhm.” you hum rolling your eyes, heading towards where Morgan and Reid were. 

You didn't expect him to be there, or maybe you did, maybe you wanted to see him and know what had happened to him since the last time you saw him. They were looking at you, Morgan with a curious already-profiling-you stare, while Reid expression was more… cautious. He looked so different, his cheekbones were prominent in an attractive way and not sickly, he had put on some healthy weight and was not fidgety. You were not mad anymore, because of course at the moment the hurt had turned into rage like it always does for you, but it was more because of phantoms than anything else. 

“Got your golden ticket” you said, avoiding Reid’s gaze as you pulled the warrant from the inner pocket of your gray coat and swung it toward them.

Morgan nodded “You staying?” He gestured with his head to Austin who was leaving.

“I have to make sure you find something, otherwise the judge will have my head for this,” you said dryly, shrugging as though the threat didn’t bother you, but there was a flicker of seriousness behind your words. You were only talking to him, which felt rude because Reid’s stare was locked in your profile. 

Reid was thinking how pretty you looked, how the black vest suited you, and he couldn’t ignore the fact you had changed your brown bag to a black one that looked nothing like his. Your white shirt and gray coat gave you an older, wiser look, but as Reid analyzed your features, he realized he didn’t even know how old you were. You couldn’t be older than him. Serious, sharp, and young... How was it possible for someone that young to be the A.D.A.?

Reid’s mind couldn’t let go of the numbers. The average age of an Assistant District Attorney in the U.S. is 36. You couldn’t be older than 25, and yet you were already in that position.

You glanced at him for a moment before stepping inside the house, feeling the weight of his stare. The look made him snap out of his trance-like state, and of course, his eidetic memory hated him, because for that brief second, he remembered how you had looked at him a year ago.

Morgan nodded and thanked you again before he and Reid walked into the house. You left the warrant on the hall table with a deliberate touch, your fingers lingering for just a moment—as if to remind yourself that you weren’t entirely done with this.

“Somebody lit a fire last night,” you heard Reid say.

“Well, there are dirty dishes for three in the kitchen, so they eat together as a family.” Morgan’s voice carried from the other room as they moved through the house, taking in the details.

If Katie was in danger, the signs wouldn’t be in plain sight. You had to look where they hid—where children kept their secrets. Their bedrooms.

“Hey, my favorite movie from when I was a kid.” Reid held up a DVD, turning it in his hands before pulling it from the player just as you passed by him, tugging on latex gloves before heading upstairs, you did feel a little guilty for not even looking or talking to him, but it was something you did unconsciously. 

“So they watch movies together, too,” Morgan mused. They were starting to build a picture of the family’s dynamic.

“By a fireplace in a house that’s straight out of a catalog,” Reid added. “Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted this any cozier.”

“That’s what worries me.” There was weight in Morgan’s voice. A tension that sat between them.

Upstairs, you searched through the rooms with careful precision.

When you first became a lawyer, you made a promise—never ignore a sign. Since then, you have gone further. You didn’t just refuse to ignore them; you searched for them. Hollow eyes. Unexplained bruises. Small bloodstains. You looked for them in teenagers, in young adults, in the elderly. But nothing—nothing—was more painful than a child who couldn’t speak up.

Because they were small. Because someone older, someone stronger, was hurting them. There's nothing more hurtful than not being able to speak out, to say something and stand up for yourself. Except when someone did—someone saw the bruises, the fear, the signs—and they looked away deliberately. Because a child’s pain was inconvenient. Because it came with a mountain of paperwork no one wanted to touch.

You had spent your whole life making sure you never looked away.

That’s why you were hunched over the small desk in Katie’s bedroom, flipping through her drawings when Morgan and Reid entered the room. They started searching, their movements efficient and methodical.

“Katie’s been wetting her bed,” Reid said as he lifted the duvet, inspecting the mattress beneath it.

“A lot of six-year-olds do. Could be bad dreams,” Morgan replied, crouching beside you as he sifted through a pile of toys.

You considered that possibility—it was perfectly logical. In a perfect world.

“Some kids won’t get up at night because they’re afraid of the dark,” Reid added, his tone careful. Almost knowing.

“Or it could be a lot more complex than that.”

Morgan had found a doll. Not a Barbie missing a shoe or one that had simply been played with too much. No—this doll was different.

Its hair had been hacked off, jagged strands sticking out unevenly. Red marker smeared across its face like smeared blood. Its clothes were yanked askew, twisted, and wrong.

“Most girls covet their dolls like an extension of themselves.” He took the doll in his hands like it was made of fine glass. 

“Reid, I know these signs-— acting out on her toys, wetting the bed. She's obviously covering up something about that necklace.”

“And her cousin might be holding something back.”

“Well, this looks more like a man than a boy to me,” you said, holding up a drawing of a tall, shadowy figure towering over a small, crying child.

Morgan took it from your hands, his expression hardening as he analyzed the image.

“Psychology says drawing is a child’s way of channeling their inner world. Look at the strokes—how harsh they are,” you pointed to the dark, jagged lines forming the tall figure, then traced your finger over the smaller one. “And this looks like Katie to me. She forgot to draw the hands, which means she feels powerless… helpless.” 

Morgan took his phone out, dialing up “Hotch, we think Katie’s being molested,” Morgan said, his voice clipped. “And we both know the odds.”

A brief silence. Then Hotch’s response, firm and certain. “Most likely by someone under the same roof.”

He hung up, and both men started toward the door, their movements brisk with purpose. But you stayed behind for a moment, rooted in place, taking in the scene. Trying to quiet the distant sirens that echoed in your mind, the same ones always shouting when you were face to face with these situations. A loud pause—maybe out of respect for Katie and her pain, for everything she had been forced to endure.

From the doorway, Spencer glanced back. The dim light from the hallway cast your figure in stark contrast, outlining you in shadow—your form dark against the soft glow of the room. He couldn’t see your expression, couldn’t read your face. He focused on the way your hands curled into fists at your sides, the tight set of your shoulders.

And he wished—just for a second—that he could see more.

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　　

You stood outside, leaning against the wall, arms crossed tightly over your chest. By your side were Morgan, Jeremy, Katie’s cousin, and Reid.

Turns out, Katie’s uncle, Richard, was her abuser. A disgusting son of a bitch who deserved to rot in hell. And you were going to make sure he did. He had destroyed Katie’s childhood, probably more than just hers, shattering an entire family in the process. His own son, standing right next to you, was collateral damage he clearly hadn’t spared a thought for. And then there was his wife. The woman who had chosen to look away. Who had taken Katie and nearly gotten her killed, all for the pathetic, desperate hope that it would somehow stop her husband from creeping into little bedrooms at night. She deserved the same hell he did.

A stretcher rolled past, Katie’s small frame barely visible beneath the blankets as the paramedics guided her into the ambulance. Her mother clutched her tiny hand, whispering something—words meant to soothe, to promise safety.

A young voice cut through the air. “I heard her call my mom’s name. That’s what I remembered before.”

You closed your eyes, your mind already racing ahead. Your attorney brain was piecing it together, sketching out the battle that was coming. If the kid had heard it, that made him a witness to the abduction. His own mother had committed the crime against her niece. And God only knew what else he had seen—what else had been happening in that house—without fully understanding it.

“We get it, kid. That’s your mom,” Morgan said, his voice steady. But you knew the truth: if Jeremy could barely say those words to them, getting him to the stand in front of a jury would be another fight entirely.

The boy shifted on his feet, staring at the ambulance. “What’s gonna happen to me now?”

If God existed, He had already been too cruel. He had let all of this happen. And you knew how these things worked—knew there was a very real chance that Katie’s parents, burdened with their own grief, would resent Jeremy by association. That they wouldn’t take him in. That he would be swallowed by the foster system.

You wouldn’t let that happen.

The sirens blared outside the mall, cutting through the air with urgency, but it was the ones inside your mind that were louder—screaming in the same rhythm, as if they were one and the same. Distant and deafening, they filled every corner of your head, drowning out everything but the grim reality unfolding before you.

“I don’t know, Jeremy,” Reid answered, his voice gentle. “But we’re gonna make sure you’re alright, okay?”

Jeremy didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed fixed on the ambulance. “Is Katie gonna be all right?”

You wished—desperately, violently—that you could tell him yes. That you could say it with certainty and make it true. But how could you give him something you didn’t have?

“She will, eventually,” Morgan said, his voice firm.

You exhaled sharply. The words made your skin crawl.

“Is she?” The question slipped from your lips before you could stop it—low, bitter, nearly spat out under your breath. Just quiet enough that the kid wouldn’t hear. Just loud enough that Morgan did.

Before he could respond, you were already moving.

Your feet carried you toward the police car, toward the sick, selfish bastard they were shoving into the backseat. Your hand shot out, slamming the door closed—harder than necessary, just enough that it cracked against Richard’s face.

Morgan watched. So did Spencer.

And for the first time, he realized just how much of a puzzle you really were.

Partially because, throughout all of this, you hadn’t looked at him once. Not when he entered the room, not when he spoke, not even now, standing just a few feet away.

Partially because your eyes, when he finally caught a glimpse of them, were full of something he rarely saw outside of a case like this. Pure, undiluted rage.

Not just anger. Not just frustration. Something deeper. Something personal.

　　　　 　　　 .˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱᐧ.˳˳.⋅.　　

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[he3ts]

GIVE YOU MY LOVE

squid game masterlist / part one — part two — prequel

pairings: nam gyu x reader

warnings: angst, jealous!nam gyu, smut ( p in v ) less than the first part but i prioritized tension and sadness!! toxic relationship, sub reader, alcohol use. mild thanos x reader. this is part two, i recommend you read part one to continue reading. sorry if this is long, but i got too carried away. never mind the mistakes, i'm fucking tired

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and i don't see an easy way to get out of this,,

her diary, it sits by the bedside table

the curtains are closed, the cats in the cradle

who would've thought that a boy like me could come to this

oh i, i just died in your arms tonight

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This time, you would not come back

At first, he didn't pay him any mind; you always did that. You would walk away, disappear for a few days, then come back, slamming the door and insulting him for his way of doing things. It was your sick game, a cycle that repeated itself over and over again. He knew it, had always known it, and that's why he hadn't worried when, for the first time, you didn't answer his calls.

You're being difficult. He had told himself a thousand times, throwing the phone on the table with a tired smile. But then the days had passed. Seven, to be precise. A week without a message, without a call, without even your name lit up on the screen in the middle of the night. A week of total silence. And then the weeks had turned into a month.

Nam Gyu had begun to feel it on his skin, that emptiness, like an ink stain slowly spreading, staining his days, soiling everything. The phone had become an obsession. Every night he unlocked it, looked at your contact, but he couldn't call you. He was too proud. Too convinced that, sooner or later, you would give in. You. Not him. Just you.

Only you hadn't. As the months began to roll by, Nam Gyu began to change.

He was no longer him. Or maybe, he was more than before, but without your eyes to make him feel like someone better. Without your presence to balance his chaos. His nights were made up of never-ending cigarettes, of glasses left on the edge of the table, of pills melted under his palate, of days that blurred together without meaning. He did not sleep, or slept too much. He talked little, or talked too much and to the wrong person.

Girls came and went. Bodies without faces, kisses without taste. He looked for your scent on them and never found it. It irritated him. It drove him crazy.

One year. A year without you. That was how he measured time now.

No one was saying it out loud, but everyone was noticing. The way he reacted to things had changed, patience was in tatters, irritability a constant. Friends knew it, strangers who crossed his path at the wrong time knew it, but no one knew it as much as he did.

No one felt your absence like he did. Yet, he was no longer looking for you. Because inside him, though he didn't want to admit it, he understood. This time, you were not coming back. For your own sake.

The club Pentagon was still the same. Dim lights, pounding music, bodies moving too close, but never enough to fill the void. The air smelled of alcohol, sweat and stale desire, a perfect place for those who wanted to forget, for those seeking a temporary escape from reality. Nam Gyu had dropped onto one of the black leather couches, a drink between his fingers. The amber liquid swayed slightly as he stared blankly at it. He didn't even know why he was there. Or maybe he knew, but he didn't want to admit it. It had been months since he had heard from you. Months that had stretched into a whole year.

"May I sit down?" A female voice brought him back to reality. He looked up as his eyes rested on a young woman with dark hair, bold eyes, a smile that tasted of promise. She wore a black dress that swathed her body in a way that should have attracted him. It should have.

Nam Gyu did not answer right away; he already knew how it would end. It was going to be a night like many others, a night when he would try to forget you in the arms of someone else. It never worked, but he kept trying anyway. He nodded his head. She smiled, satisfied with his silent acceptance, and sat down next to him. Her scent was sweet, perhaps too much so.

"Are you alone?"

He gave a small, bitter smile. "For a long time"

The girl laughed, as if that answer was a joke, and moved just enough closer to reduce the distance between them. Her fingers grazed the rim of his glass, her red-lacquered fingernails tracing a circle on the cold glass.

"Can I buy you another drink?"

He finished what was in his hand in one slow sip, letting the fire from his drink trickle down his throat, and then set the empty glass on the table.

"That's not necessary"

She leaned even closer, her legs crossed in a studied way, her knee brushing against his. "Then maybe I can offer you something better"

Her fingers slid down the collar of his shirt, playing with the first open button. It was an inviting, calculated gesture, something that should have ignited a modicum of interest in him. Yet, he felt nothing. There was no excitement, no desire, just a sense of apathy that suffocated him.

But he did not back down. He could not go on like this. Maybe, this time, it could work. Maybe, this time, he would stop thinking about you.

The cab sped silently through the brightly lit streets of Seoul. Nam Gyu sat beside the girl, his head leaning against the window. He looked out, the reflection of the lights stretching across the glass, distorted like his thoughts. She was talking to him, but he wasn't really listening, occasionally nodding, occasionally hinting at a smile. He had gotten good at pretending.

When they reached his apartment, she took him by the hand and pulled him inside, without hesitation. She closed the door behind her, dropping her purse on the floor, and pushed him against the wall.

"Are you always this quiet?" she whispered, biting her lower lip as her fingers slipped over his shirt. He looked at her, searching for something in her eyes, something that might convince him she was doing the right thing. But he found nothing. Still, he let her. Her lips came to rest on his, the kiss was expert, voracious, but it didn't make him feel a single thing. Her hands touched him, sought him out, and he reciprocated out of pure automatism.

He let himself be pulled toward the bed, his breathing heavy, his body moving without his mind really being there. She pushed him down, lay on top of him, her lips tracing a trail down his neck. He closed his eyes. For a moment, just a moment, he tried to imagine that she was you. That the hands caressing him were yours. That the voice whispering his name was yours.

And then, without meaning to, without thinking about it. She had squeezed his hair vigorously. Only you could do that.

"Y/n, oh my god bunny"

The girl stopped suddenly, hearing that unfamiliar name. She stiffened and pulled away slightly, her breathing labored. "What did you say?"

Nam Gyu opened his eyes. Her own whisper still seemed to echo in the room. Your name. He had said it. He had whispered it against the lips of another girl. A heavy silence fell between them. She drew back, her eyes narrowing in a mixture of anger and disbelief. "Are you kidding?"

He did not answer. There was nothing to say. She stood up abruptly, hastily picking up her clothes scattered on the floor. "Take your ex back at this point," she spat, slipping on her jacket without even looking at him again. And then, without another word, she walked out, slamming the door behind her. Nam Gyu stood motionless, his gaze lost in the ceiling, his breathing heavy.

He closed his eyes again, but this time there was no illusion, no lie to take refuge in.

The bed was cold. And the emptiness he felt inside him seemed to have no end.

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Time had stopped making sense, your days had turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into a whole year without him. Without his burning gaze on you, without his voice to make you shiver, without his touch to always bring you back to where you started, without his caresses.

You had left without a trace, because you really needed it. Needed to change. You had changed areas, found a different job, away from those places that talked too much about him. You had deleted numbers, blocked calls, closed every door left ajar. You had even nipped relationships with people who could have brought you back, because you knew that all it took was one small crack to bring you down again.

It had been difficult at first. The sleepless nights, the phone that went silent but you kept looking at it anyway. The dreams in which he still appeared, vivid, real, with that damned ability to creep under your skin even when you didn't want him to.

And then there was the silence. Too much silence.

The mornings when you woke up with a heavy heart, a tight throat, and the knowledge that you were facing another day without him. The dumb ache of knowing that, deep down, no one had ever made you feel the way he did. Not even in the good, and especially not in the bad. But then it had become habit.

Silence had stopped being an enemy, and had begun to seem almost like a salvation, no longer having to explain to yourself why you always came back, no longer having to justify your need for him with excuses that no longer held up. And, little by little, you had begun to convince yourself that it was really over, that there was nothing left between you. That the love that had consumed you had died along with that old version of you.

But some days were harder than others. You simply woke up already in the morning in a crooked moon. You suffered from lifelong insomnia, but with him it was rare to happen, but that night it was past one, then two, then three. You were lying on the bed, the ceiling a white void that gave you no answers, darkness enveloping everything but your thoughts. Your chest ached, as if there was a weight on it, a tight knot that wouldn't untie.

You didn't know what had triggered that particular night. Maybe a familiar smell heard on the street, maybe "I Just Died in your Arms" played on the radio just that afternoon, his favorite song, maybe just the weariness of having to pretend every day that you had moved on. You had gotten out of bed with soft legs, head light. In the kitchen, the silence was deafening. You had leaned your hands against the counter closing your eyes, biting your lip to hold back the burning that rose in your throat. But it was no use. You could feel it coming. That silent pain, that grip that gripped your stomach and left no escape.

And then, without warning, the tears began to fall. Slow, heavy.

No sobs, no sound, just a silent weeping that seemed to never end. Warm drops on your cheeks, on your lips, falling onto the kitchen countertop one after another, as if your body was expelling all the pain that had been trapped inside for too long.

You felt stupid. You felt weak.

A year had passed. A bloody year. You should have been better off. You should have been free of all this. Instead, there you were, crying in the darkness of a kitchen you didn't even feel was yours, your heart still beating for him, his name trembling on your lips even though you didn't say it.

With the knowledge that, perhaps, you had never really forgotten him.

And that, perhaps, you never would.

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Rain was falling incessantly on the city's gray streets, slipping from the rooftops like tears that no one would ever wipe away. The sky was a cluster of dark clouds, and the air had that oppressive weight that precedes something inevitable. You walked aimlessly, your hands stuffed in the pockets of your jacket too light for that bitter cold, your mind clouded by thoughts that would not shut up. It was one of those days that seemed meant to break you down, no money in your wallet, no place to return to with a smile.

And now him, too. You had rebuilt your life, of course you had to, you were engaged and maybe in love but you didn't know for sure. You thought it centered on the theory that first love is forever, maybe that was why you couldn't open your heart easily to someone else. It was like a poison. But fortunately you had managed, however briefly, to be happy. It had all started that morning with a seemingly innocuous sentence, a joke said lightly, almost in jest.

"You are with me, but sometimes I feel like your head is elsewhere"

You had looked up from the empty plate, fingers fiddling with the now useless fork, your boyfriend was standing in front of you, a smile on his face, you knew him well enough to know something was up. And you knew yourself well enough to know that at that time you were not as spry as before.

"What are you talking about?" you had asked, trying not to sound defensive. He had shaken his head, the smile barely on his lips, but his eyes betrayed his frustration.

"About him"

Your breath had caught in your throat for a second. Yes, him. Nam Gyu.

He had said it out loud. Even though he had never spoken his name, that name that was no longer supposed to belong to you. You had set your fork down on the table with a clatter, trying to maintain control. "I don't want to talk about it"

"But you still think about it"

"I don't"

He had laughed, but without mirth. "Are you really sure?"

Were you? His words were a knife digging into you, slow and precise. "It doesn't matter," you had said finally, crossing your arms.

"It matters to me"

His fingers had drummed against the table, the sound rhythmic and nervous. Then he had shifted, leaning against the back of the chair, watching you with a gaze that made you feel naked, vulnerable. In that perspective, you had noticed how a little like him he looked. You were so screwed.

"I heard you in your sleep," he had said. "You call him. Not me. Him"

You had stiffened.

"No"

"Yes"

The air in the room had become heavy, unbreathable, and going back seemed impossible. "It's not my fault if-"

"If what?" he had pressed, raising his voice. "If he left you? If he destroyed you and now you think no one else can put you back together?"

You had felt your face heat up, your throat tighten. It was unfair. It was cruel. But it wasn't a lie. "If you think that, why did you stay with me?" you had retorted, your voice broken with anger and pain, "You knew my history, you ... You cannot hold my greatest weakness against me"

He had shaken his head, and for a moment had looked more tired than angry. He raised an eyebrow, not expecting me to respond that way.

"Because I thought that in time things would change"

A long silence had fallen between you. One that hurt more than words. Then he had sighed, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, not turning around before leaving. Nothing more had needed to be said. He had been right. He could not be a replacement and you were still trapped in the past. Alone again.

You had left the house only three hours later, your cheeks streaked with bitter tears, your nose red with shame. You felt the air lacking inside the crowded subway, the air saturated with the smell of rain and dampness. You had sat in a corner, your hood up, your eyes fixed on your hands entwined in your lap. Then you had seen him when you hurried downstairs. A well-dressed man with an enigmatic smile and an expression of someone who always knew more than he was saying. He had stretched a smile at you in a casual, almost distracted gesture.

"Will you play with me?" he had said, and you had almost laughed. A game. It was almost funny, maybe he was trying to cheer up your depressed mood. He had shown you two cards, one blue and one red, and you immediately knew what the game was. Ddakji. You had accepted, perhaps just out of defiance. Maybe because you needed something to take your anger out on.

Every blow you gave against the card seemed a reflection of the chaos inside you. Every pop in the air, every defeat, every burn on your skin when his hand hit your face. But then you had won and the bills had slipped through your trembling fingers. It was not the money that scared you. It was the temptation, because you needed the money. And, perhaps, you had nothing left to lose.

You had returned home sadder than before, the room was a reflection of you, you had taken off your soggy jacket and dropped it to the floor with a dull thud, you sat in the armchair cross-legged looking at the damn note.

Then the music had begun.

"Oh, I just died in your arms tonight..."

You had frozen. A chill had gone down your spine, your hands had begun to shake. That song, that damn song. The radio croaked slightly, the sound imperfect, lived-in. An old gift. One you had kept out of habit, just because it was part of you, and like a slow poison, your mind had gone back.

To him.

To the first time you had listened to that song together, lying on the bed with the rain beating against the glass. To the way he had smiled, brushing your hair away from your face with a careless gesture. To the taste of his lips, to the unspoken promise that was in every kiss. To the anger. To the longing. To everything you had tried to bury. Your gaze had slipped to the note clenched in your fist. Maybe you weren't really free. Maybe you never would have been.

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The metallic sound of the doll's voice was still echoing in your head.

The field was littered with motionless bodies, some lifeless, others paralyzed with fear. Blood stained the dusty ground, yet adrenaline did not allow you to dwell on that scene of terror. Your heart was beating so fast you feared it might explode. You had survived. Where the fuck had you gone? Blood, too much blood, your beautiful face was stained crimson red, you could no longer breathe regularly. But you were alive. With hands still trembling, you had turned around slowly, trying to catch your breath, to process what had just happened.

Terror made your whole body shake in a ghoulish dance, you hid your hands in the pockets of that horrible green sweatshirt. You were breathing only because you had to, only because you wanted to live again. You could not die, you were young, poor, yes, but still young. Everyone seemed too interested in money, blinded almost to want to continue. You obviously voted X, how could you continue knowing that maybe you would die next?

The bed was uncomfortable, you couldn't even eat, you were terrified, and now you were forced to play again just because of someone else's greed.

Nam Gyu no longer knew how long he had been staring into space, the spoon trembled between his fingers, he was nervous, he was in withdrawal, the bland meal had now cooled before him, but none of this mattered. He was in withdrawal and thought it was just yet another vision he had before him. But no, he had seen you. You. Across the room, far away, your back slightly bent as if you wanted to make yourself smaller, more invisible. There you were, intent on eating in silence, not drawing attention to yourself, but your face, your movements, everything about you screamed your presence like a deafening echo in his chest.

The spoon almost slipped out of his hand. His lungs closed, as if the air had suddenly become too thick for him to breathe.

One year.

But it had only taken one glance. One bloody instant to shatter every lie. He had lost you. But he had never forgotten you. And now you were there. You were real.

Your hair was longer, slightly messy, but it still looked good on you, as if it belonged to that version of you he had never known. Your face was more mature, marked by something he couldn't define. Suffering? Weariness? Or was it just time that had left its mark?

You were even more beautiful. A kind of beauty that hurt the eyes.

You looked fragile, almost ethereal, as if the world had crushed you for too long. But he knew. He knew that inside you was still that flame, that storm that had always engulfed him. He watched as you brought the spoon to your lips slowly, with no real desire to eat, with no real taste to that meal. Your movements were mechanical, lifeless, and that realization hit him like a punch to the stomach.

He bit the inside of his cheek, holding back the wave of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him. A laugh at his side abruptly brought him back to reality: Thanos, the purple-haired boy, the rapper, always stoned and a little disconnected. Sitting next to him looking relaxed, as if they hadn't just risked their lives. He was saying something, a joke maybe, but Nam Gyu couldn't follow him.

Not as long as you were there. Not as long as your breath seemed to echo in every corner of the room. Thanos followed his trajectory, turning his head sharply toward Nam Gyu "Do you know her?"

"No," he had gasped, but he still stared at you with too much intensity, without shame or modesty. Your eyes met. One moment. A single, eternal moment.

Your lips barely parted. The spoon remained suspended between your fingers, as if you had forgotten what you were doing. Nam Gyu felt the blood freeze in his veins.

You.

It was really you.

Bunny.

He had missed you.

He had missed you to death.

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He did not know how it had started, but Thanos had set his eyes on you from the start. He had opened the cross necklace around his neck only to pull out what looked like an ecstasy pill to Nam Gyu. He scrutinized you as if you were a fun puzzle to solve, as if he had already decided you were worth playing with.

After the fight with Player 333 he seemed more fierce than ever, his had been a test toward him, he was plotting something, and Nam Gyu knew it. Maybe he had noticed the way he was looking at you? He didn't want to talk, didn't want to hunt for some weakness. But seeing you there again had ignited that flame in him that he was unlikely to extinguish now. He felt the fire sprinkle in him everywhere, how delirious.

Thanos was serious, approaching you with that relaxed walk of his, his head slightly tilted, as if everything was a big joke and he was the only one who knew the punchline.

Nam Gyu could tell from your eyes, from that little glint, that you were amused. Maybe from his dilated pupils. Okay it's done, it's going to be really funny.

He clenched his fists inside his pockets, his fingernails digging into his palm. Thanos was already in front of your figure, his face tilted in a theatrical gesture, while you were still trying to finish your cross-legged meal.

"Hey, Señorita"

Nam Gyu felt the blood boiling in his veins, you barely looked up from your meal, the spoon suspended in midair. You tilted your head, watching him curiously.

"Señorita?" you repeated with a smile that, however small, was enough to annoy Nam Gyu. That symptom of belonging. You had never been engaged, not officially, but at the club his friends always tried to stay away from you.

"Yes." Thanos nodded slowly, with that air of a sassy kid who enjoyed pushing himself. "I've decided I'm going to call you that. It sounds better than your number, doesn't it?"

"I don't like it"

Thanos clutched his shoulders. Nam Gyu forced himself to look away. He felt his own breathing becoming heavier, his chest rising and falling with effort. He had no right to be annoyed. He had no right to intervene. Yet, he felt the need to do so.

You chuckled, lowering your gaze to your meal.

"Join my team, and I will protect you at all costs"

Another laugh. Light, almost distracted. Yet every time Nam Gyu heard it, it was like a punch in the stomach. He hadn't heard you laugh like that in a long time. Not with him. Not for him. He was the one who knew every expression on your face, every nuance in your voice, and yet, there you were now, smiling with someone else.

And then, as if that were not enough, your eyes shifted to him. You were doing it on purpose, it was so predictable. You hadn't seen him in years. Years in which you had tried to forget the sound of his voice, the way his touch could burn your skin, the look with which he had always made you feel naked, exposed, vulnerable. You had vowed never to think of him again, to rebuild yourself, to erase his name from your mind. But when your eyes had landed on him in that bare, stuffy dormitory, time had stood still.

He had changed. Thinner, harder. His face seemed carved in stone, his black eyes were duller, more hollowed out. Did he have new tattoos? For a moment, you had seen a spark of something familiar before he looked away.

"So now you want to impress me?" you had told him, as Thanos sat down next to you just to talk some more.

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Nam Gyu sat in a corner, his body motionless, his hands intertwined in front of his face. He was trying to ignore it. He was trying to ignore the discomfort that knotted in his stomach every time Thanos spoke to you. But then, Thanos spoke.

"Strange," he said, with his usual arrogant smile, his eyes cast toward the piggy bank. "I didn't think you were the type to let a woman like that go"

Nam Gyu did not react. Not right away. Thanos understood. He was high and only wanted to annoy him.

"Or maybe," he continued, tilting his head slightly, "you never really had her?"

A deep breath. Absolute control. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

"Why are you talking about things that don't concern you?"

Thanos laughed softly, with the confidence of someone who knows he has the upper hand. He leaned in slightly closer, as if deliberately trying to provoke him.

"Because it amuses me," he whispered. "Because I want her. Because you had her in your hands and threw her away like an idiot"

Nam Gyu clenched his jaw, still silence. Still checking. Yes, he was an idiot. Yes, he was wrong. Yes, his heart still burned for you.

"But maybe it was for the best," Thanos continued, the grin becoming more and more evident. "She is free now."

The bed creaked in an instant, Nam Gyu stood, his breath short, his hands clenched into fists, his eyes burning with pure rage. Thanos smiled even wider. "Ah, so you still feel something? What a surprise"

"Leave her alone"

Thanos stared at him, and for the first time a shadow of caution flashed in his eyes. He was only joking. "What is it you call her? Bunny? Bro, you're really fucked up to call her in your sleep. Maybe you should-"

Nam Gyu moved even closer, his gaze now a bottomless abyss. His sweatshirt sleeves were up, Thanos noticed his scars, from when he was piercing himself. He took his necklace with a dry gesture, opening it in front of him, Nam Gyu's eyes lit up with something all too intense.

Thanos studied him for a long moment, then tossed him the pill, the smile barely noticeable. "Don't worry, champion. I don't want any trouble. At least not yet"

──────────────୨ৎ──────────────

You could not sleep. The need to go to the bathroom had become impossible to ignore; you were so terrified that you hadn't thought about your physiological needs at all. You had risen cautiously, slipping away from your bed without a sound, moving like a shadow among the huddled bodies. You crossed the dark room, the faint red and blue lights on the floor were blinding. When you reached the door, the guard behind the glass looked impassive.

"You can't get out"

The metallic voice rang through the device, cold and impersonal. You paused, your breath suspended for a moment.

"I need to go to the bathroom." Your voice was firm, but your body tense, but the guard remained still. Not an ounce of sympathy. Clenching your fists, the idea of having to stay there, of being denied even that slightest freedom, made your blood boil in your veins.

"If you'd rather I do it here, be my guest and watch"

The guard did not move. He did not respond. Nervousness burned under your skin. Your instinct told you that you would never be able to convince him, because you couldn't even convince yourself. Do it in front of everyone, even if they were asleep? That was out of the question. But then, a presence behind you.

"What's the problem?"

His voice. Low. Deep. Strange. A shiver went down your spine even before you turned around. He was there, so close you could feel the heat behind you. His gaze, heavy as a mark on your skin, did not leave the guard in front of you.

"She just needs to go to the bathroom"

The guard did not move, "It is not allowed at night"

Nam Gyu took a step closer. "Not allowed?" His voice dropped a tone, becoming darker, more dangerous. "Either you let her pass, or we make a scene. But I guess you don't want to attract attention, right?"

The guard was impassive, as always, and he was so close, and you desperately needed the bathroom.

Nam Gyu looked at him as if he could break him in two with a single glance, resting his hand on your back. "Don't be an asshole," his voice was pure threat. "Open that door."

A second of absolute tension, then finally the guard opened the door. As soon as the door opened, Nam Gyu gently grabbed your wrist, guiding you out without another word. He walked in front of you, determined, his shoulders broad and tense. His grip on your wrist had barely loosened, but the contact between your skins was still there, alive, electric. Reaching the bathroom door, he stopped, you turned toward him, finally meeting his gaze. He was staring at you in a way that almost made you hold your breath.

His eyes were dilated, shiny, you remembered, because you had those eyes too, then you had decided that ruining your life was not the thing and stopped. Only when you had turned away from him had you felt the air lacking. So close, you could touch him, just reach out. All you had to do was ... No, you couldn't. Not now that you were both vulnerable.

"What an honor to know you still care about me," you barely whispered, he tightened his lips into a single line, he wanted to speak, he wanted to stop you. He wanted to... He didn't know anymore either. You had entered the bathroom not knowing that he had followed you quickly. You had done everything in a hurry, not wanting to upset the masked men.

Water ran over your cold hands as you rubbed them under the rusty jet of the sink, trying desperately to concentrate on the monotonous noise that echoed in the small room. But the only presence you could feel was his.

He was there, standing still against the door, his arms crossed over his chest, his body relaxed in that silent arrogance that had always driven you crazy. His dark eyes watched you with an intensity that seemed to dig into you, making you feel vulnerable, as if he saw every thought hidden behind your impassive facade.

You knew he was watching you. He was devouring you with his eyes. You breathed deep, trying to find the voice to break that nerve-wracking wait.

"You can leave, you know"

The sound of your words echoed in the small room, but he did not move. Then he slowly left his position against the door and took a few steps toward you, slow, studied. Curse.

"Still playing hard to get" His voice was low, rough, with that undertone of danger you had come to know well. You felt your heart quicken as the reflection in the small mirror above the sink returned his figure to you, getting closer and closer. And then-the contact. His hands. Warm, sure, terribly familiar.

His hands rested on your hips with devastating naturalness, his fingers sliding lazily along the elastic of your sweatpants. A shiver ran down your spine, your breath jamming for an instant.

"Don't touch me. Back away," but you had arched your back so pathetically that your words betrayed themselves. He knew that your breathing had just changed. He knew that your body was already responding to his.

"Really?"

His tone was a challenge-laden whisper, his mouth close to your ear, his warm breath brushing against your skin. He moved even closer, his chest almost touching your back. The warmth of his body against yours made you shiver. And then, you felt it. His erection, how much he wanted you, and the tip of his thumb sliding slowly under the fabric of your panties. A very light, almost accidental touch.

You stiffened instantly, your fingers gripping around the edge of the sink tightly, as if it were the only thing holding you up.

"Stop it"

Nam Gyu smiled against your neck, a smile you couldn't see but felt all over.

"Lie"

His hand moved another inch, his fingers playing with the hem of the fabric, lazily caressing the soft skin beneath it. Your breath grew shorter, the heat spreading along your skin like a slow poison.

"You always said you hated it when I did that"

His voice was low, hypnotic, dangerously close.

"And I hate it." You tried to maintain control, to ignore the way your body responded to his touch. But he laughed softly, a deep sound that made you shudder.

"Stop your bullshit. Can't you hear how much I want you, bunny." That name. That damn name that had always made you melt.

You had bitten your lip, hating yourself for the way your body seemed to give out without you being able to stop it. Stop, stop, stop.

"Go away, Nam Gyu"

He did not move; rather, he let his lips barely graze the skin behind your ear, his hot breath making you tremble.

"Tell me you don't want this"

"Tell me you hate me"

You hated him. You hated him because he knew you would never say it. When his hand reached your opening, opening it with two fingers, your breath was ragged, you had rested your head on his shoulder you could see his face looking down at you.

"Is that a no?" he turned several times between your folds as he gave you pleasure and you closed your eyes. Maybe it was his twisted way of enjoying himself. Maybe he liked seeing you tremble under his intense gaze, knowing that he could destabilize you. Or maybe he simply wanted what he couldn't have.

"He's on you like a hungry dog," Nam Gyu had whispered, his voice low, laden with venom, as he kissed your neck. He was talking about Thanos, you knew; he was jealous because you were still his stuff.

"None of your business," you had replied, your heart pounding in your chest. He had removed his fingers from your pussy too quickly, grabbing your hair with a tug, you had already complained about his distance.  "Yes it is my business. I see your face in my nightmares, I can't touch a woman after you anymore.... bunny, don't you understand?" his eyes were black, damned, you felt your intimacy melt deprived by your orgasm. But you were bursting.

"You reduce yourself to this! I am not a piece of meat! I loved you and you just exploited my weakness, my love to your liking!" before he could continue torturing you, his hand let go of your hair, you were looking at your bodies through the mirror, him behind you, and you trembling in front. Your pants slightly pulled down over your legs, his hand continuing to pull them down.

"You are more than a piece of meat"

"You didn't give me a way to think that, though" you had turned around, now you were face to face. His cheeks red, his eyes half-closed, as he grasped your cheeks with his palms as if to lock them in.

"Maybe we won't get out of here alive, bunny," he sighed, playing with your hair; it was the drug, you knew. "Maybe I'll die. But at least I was lucky enough to see you one last time"

"You're not in you. That's the drug talking"

Your still damp hands clenched against the fabric of his suit. You stared at him, your breath short, your eyes struggling to stay cold, not to betray the fire he always managed to ignite. He smiled. A game. Always the same, the one where he pushed and you tried to resist. Only this time the bathroom walls seemed to close in on you, the breath of both of you was too close, and the air was thick with something you could no longer ignore.

"You're always the same," he continued, his tone softer, almost bitter. "Always ready to say no to me"

You didn't know what to say, you were like stuck, still too shaken.

"You like to drive me crazy, don't you?"

You didn't have time to answer. His hands closed around your face, "Please, bunny, kiss me" It was that closeness you knew, it was that you couldn't stand it anymore, to say enough. It was the fear, the fear of dying in a place like that. It was too strong, and painful but his lips touched yours without any warning. It was a violent, hungry, angry kiss. No gentleness, no attempt to hold back. Just years of anger, repressed desire and unspoken words exploding all at once.

Your fingers slid into his hair, squeezing hard as his body pushed you against the sink again. Your mouths sought each other, taking, biting.

He moaned against your lips, his tongue sank deeper into your mouth, as if he wanted to claim you, as if he wanted to remind you that, in spite of everything, he had never really let you go.

And the worst of it was that you didn't want to stop him. Never. Not even when he turned you over for the second time, and bent you over the cold sink, his erection pressing against your butt was just yet another signal about how much he was treating himself. How many times he had dreamed that you were the woman he had between the sheets, your face, your hair, your lips.

"Nam Gyu," you had said, trying not to wince as he slid down your sweatpants and panties. His body was pressed against your bottom, his hair in front of his face and his hands clasped around your hips.

"Do you know how much I've missed you?" was a rhetorical question, sure enough, your head was foggy and your legs gave out. You were all wet, he found it funny. It was sloppy, all so fast, his breath on your neck and the tip of his cock already inside you. You lifted your butt higher toward him, because you wanted more, you were addicted, "Fuck"

"How I had missed your voice" he muttered, as his hand grabbed your hair, pulling you back toward him kissing your neck. You weren't protesting, you couldn't do anything more, you were exhausted and confused completely loose under him. His hands were everywhere, reaching for your breasts under your bra.

"Hurry the fuck up, I'm going crazy"

Your breath took away as he began to giggle and then grabbed you with far too much force as he fucked you in that fatal position. It was your head spinning, sweat soaked into your forehead. You felt it all, his tongue on your neck and moans against your ear. You were so hungry for him but so little in control of your person, "We are both doomed, you know, bunny"

"I know"

You had been struck by time, out of control, and for that night you had been his again. He couldn't get enough of it. Then a soft knock against the door. There were a few thrusts, unrestrained like animals possessing themselves. He stepped out of your frustrated womanhood, pulling your hair back from your neck and laying a chaste kiss on it. You had rested your head on the sink, your cheek flattened, and your face formulated a small smile. Your legs completely filled with him. You were cursed, yes. You were alive, again.

"I love you"

MASTERLIST.

[promptedwordsmith]

The LaDS at Halloween

Caleb:

The Halloween party was in full swing, with laughter and music filling the night air. The house was decorated with cobwebs, flickering lights, and a haze of smoke from a fog machine that drifted through the rooms. Everyone was dressed up, but you and Caleb stood out in your zombie costumes—your skin pale with dark makeup, tattered clothes, and the slow, exaggerated shuffle of your steps. Caleb looked terrifyingly real in his zombie makeup, his sharp features enhanced by the dark shadows under his eyes.

You could tell he was a little out of his element, even though the party was his idea. Caleb wasn't one for crowds, and definitely not one to show much affection in front of others. As you both entered the party, his hand hovered near yours, but he didn't take it. Instead, he kept his arms crossed, eyes scanning the room with that practiced coldness of his, ever alert.

You nudged him gently, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. "Hey, you're not going to let all these people get to you, are you?"

He glanced down at you, his gaze softening for a brief moment, but the coolness returned quickly. "It’s just… a lot of people. We’re fine."

But you could feel the distance in his tone. Caleb had always been protective of you, but he wasn't one to outwardly show his emotions when others were watching. It was always like this, a struggle between the man who cared deeply and the soldier who had learned to keep his feelings locked away.

The night went on, and you both mingled with friends, but Caleb remained distant, his hand never quite reaching for yours. A few times, he caught a glance or an offhand remark from someone, and you'd seen the way his eyes flashed with something darker. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly—more like a fierce need to keep you close, but without letting anyone see it.

Then, as the party began to wind down, a group of people came up to you both, laughing and commenting on your costumes. One of them, a guy you didn’t recognize, leaned a little too close, offering a playful compliment. Caleb’s eyes narrowed slightly, and without thinking, he grabbed your hand—firmly, possessively—and pulled you closer to him.

The shift was immediate. The guy immediately took a step back, and you saw Caleb's lips curl into the faintest smirk, something almost territorial in the way he held you.

“You’re mine,” he murmured quietly, leaning in just enough so only you could hear him. His voice was low, intense, but there was a warmth in it, too—like he’d just found a way to make sure everyone else knew, without saying it out loud.

You smiled up at him, finally feeling the affectionate connection you’d been craving all night. “I know,” you whispered back. “And I’m all yours.”

For the rest of the night, Caleb didn’t hesitate. His hand remained firmly around your waist, his touch no longer guarded. Every time someone looked your way, he would tighten his hold, silently marking his claim. And in that moment, as he stood beside you, you felt the warmth of his affection, not hidden or distant, but proudly shown, just for you.

Rafayel

It was Halloween night, and you stood in front of the mirror, adjusting your pirate costume. The hat perched slightly askew, and you couldn’t help but feel a little silly—but it was all worth it, especially with Rafayel at your side.

When you turned to look at him, your heart skipped a beat. Rafayel’s siren costume was absolutely stunning. His dusky purple hair cascaded like waves, and the shimmering scales on his chest caught the light just right. The ocean-like hues of his outfit made him seem almost otherworldly, like a creature who belonged to the depths of the sea.

“You look incredible,” you said, voice filled with admiration.

Rafayel turned, giving you a playful smirk. “Well, a pirate and a siren... seems like a dangerous combination.”

You chuckled and adjusted your pirate hat again, giving him a look. “You’re full of it tonight, aren’t you?”

“Why? I’m just trying to lure you into my plans,” he teased, eyes sparkling.

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “No need for the fish puns.”

He flashed you a mischievous grin, stepping closer. “What can I say? I’m hooked on you.”

You groaned, but your smile betrayed you. “Really? That’s the best you can do?”

“I’ve got plenty more where that came from,” he said, winking. “But, for now, how about we get on with the evening? I can’t let this ship sail without my favorite pirate by my side.”

You shook your head, laughing again. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible?” He stepped back, striking a dramatic pose. “More like irresistible. How could you resist a siren like me?”

“Don’t get too full of yourself,” you replied, playing along. “I’m the one with the treasure map here. Who says you’re the one doing the capturing?”

Before you knew it, Rafayel was spinning around, eyes gleaming with excitement. “I’m the one who’s supposed to do the capturing, remember? I’m the one who enchants with my voice, luring sailors into the sea.”

You couldn’t help but laugh as he twirled and danced around you, dramatically sweeping his hands in the air like he was serenading you. “Oh, Captain Pirate,” he said, his voice deep and teasing, “Come sail away with me... let’s leave this world behind.”

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart swelling at the playfulness in his voice. “Is that so?” you said, pretending to ponder it. “I suppose I could be swayed.”

He grinned, moving closer again, and with a mischievous glint in his eye, he wrapped an arm around your waist. “Then let’s set sail, my pirate queen.” He leaned in, brushing a soft kiss to your forehead, and in that quiet moment, you felt like the whole world had faded away. It was just the two of you, caught up in the magic of the night.

Maybe you were a pirate, and maybe he was a siren, but together, you were the perfect pair.

Sylus

Halloween night is one of the busiest times of year for Sylus. The phone calls, the discreet meetings, the plans, the deals—it never stops. Yet, as the clock strikes late into the evening, there’s a shift. A quiet message, a barely perceptible pause in his endless schedule. You’re on his mind, and despite all the chaos of his world, he finds a way to make time for you.

The party is in full swing when you arrive—laughter, music, and the low hum of conversation fill the air—but Sylus? He’s a world apart, nestled in the shadows of the grand mansion where the party’s being held. You know he’s watching, but he makes no move to approach, waiting for just the right moment. You stand for a moment at the top of the stairs, hands tugging at the edges of your costume—a tiny nurse outfit that fits just a little too well, the hem of the skirt teasingly short, the fabric hugging every curve in a way you know won’t escape his notice.

As you make your way down the stairs, his gaze meets yours—sharp, predatory, yet with a heat beneath it that makes your pulse race. His lips curl into that familiar, self-assured smirk, the one that speaks of knowing exactly what he wants. The weight of his attention is heavy, suffocating in the best way, as though he’s appraising every step, every movement, as if savoring the moment before he takes action.

“Quite the costume,” he murmurs, his voice a low rasp that sends shivers down your spine. “But I suspect it’s more than just the outfit that catches my eye.” His gaze drifts, unapologetically following the curve of your waist, the line of your legs, before settling back on your face, locking in with that burning intensity.

You don’t say a word, but a playful smirk tugs at your lips. You know how he is—always a few steps ahead, always the one in control. But tonight, there’s something different. He’s never been one to openly admit his weakness, but his gaze softens, just for a moment, as if he’s momentarily caught off guard by how captivating you look.

“I’m afraid, darling,” he says, voice teasing but with that undercurrent of truth, “you’ve distracted me more than I care to admit.” He takes a step toward you, his hand brushing yours lightly before slipping it around your waist, pulling you close. “But I’ll make time for you. Always.”

In his arms, the world outside fades. For just this moment, it’s only the two of you.

Xavier

Xavier had never cared much for holidays, but the way your eyes lit up every time you talked about Halloween had done something to him. For weeks, you’d been buzzing with excitement, debating costume ideas, rambling about the party, about the decorations, about the candy—until, finally, an idea struck you.

"We should do a couples costume!"

He had agreed without hesitation. Of course he had. Why would he ever say no to you?

What he hadn’t expected, however, was to open your door on the night of the party and see you standing there—not as a vampire, as he had assumed—but as a vampire hunter.

For a long moment, he just stares at you, expression unreadable, eyes tracing the details of your outfit. The leather straps, the silver accents, the wooden stake tucked neatly at your hip. And then, to your surprise—

He laughs.

It’s low, barely there, but unmistakably amused. He likes it. The thought of you hunting him down—chasing him, catching him, never to strike the final blow because he knows you already own his heart.

"Clever," he murmurs at last, stepping closer. "But you realize, if you're the hunter… that makes me your prey."

You grin, pleased with yourself, but before you can respond, he leans in slightly—just enough that his breath ghosts against your ear. "Just be careful, love." His voice is quiet, but laced with something teasing, something almost dangerous. "You might not want to catch me."

The party is loud, filled with dim lighting and flashing colors. People move through the space in elaborate costumes, drinks in hand, music pulsing in the background. Xavier stays close, his presence steady beside you—a silent, shadowy figure wrapped in elegance and something just shy of menace.

Then it happens.

You’re chatting with someone—a little too friendly, a little too warm—and from across the room, Xavier watches.

His head tilts slightly. His fingers tighten around his drink. His gaze sharpens, unreadable. And then—

Without a word, he crosses the room.

Before you even realize he’s there, his arms slip around your waist from behind, his body pressing into yours. He’s cool, steady, the silk of his costume brushing against your skin. Then—before you can react—he buries his face in your neck.

"Mm," he murmurs against your pulse, low enough that only you can hear. "Getting a little careless, aren’t we, hunter?"

Your breath catches.

His lips don’t quite touch you—just the warmth of his breath, just enough to make your heart stutter.

And then, as if he hadn’t just laid a silent claim on you in the middle of the room, Xavier lifts his head, blinks at you innocently, and tilts his head.

"Something wrong?"

The guy who had been flirting with you? Gone.

You whirl on him, whispering, "Xavier, did you just—"

"Did I?" he echoes, voice calm, unreadable.

You narrow your eyes at him, and he only gives you a small, almost imperceptible smirk.

“Careful, love.” His voice is silk and shadows, teasing, warm. "Wouldn’t want me to bite, would you?”

…But when his fingers brush yours—gentle, barely there—you know the truth.

You already have. And he has no intention of escaping.

Zayne

The Halloween night was thick with fog, the air damp and heavy as it rolled through the streets. The usual bustle of trick-or-treaters was muted, the mist softening the sounds of laughter and footsteps. Zayne had promised you—at your insistence—that this year, he would take the day off. No late-night surgeries, no rushing to the hospital. Just the two of you, tucked away in the warmth of your home, carving pumpkins and enjoying the quiet of a rare, peaceful evening.

But, as with most things in Zayne’s life, plans had a way of changing.

The call came. An emergency patient. His brows furrowed briefly in frustration, but there was no hesitation in his movements. He quickly made his way to the door, his usual stoic expression falling into place. “I’ll be back soon,” he promised, his kiss lingering on your forehead, a quiet regret in his eyes.

You knew how important his work was, how deeply he cared, and though you missed him, you understood. But as the hours passed and the fog outside thickened, you decided to do something about it.

After the surgery was finished and the hospital had quieted down, you set off. The night was even foggier now, the streets barely visible through the haze. The cool, damp air clung to your skin as you made your way to the hospital, a grin forming on your lips as you imagined the surprise waiting for him.

Once inside, you moved through the corridors quietly, the hospital feeling colder and more distant than usual. You headed straight to Zayne’s office, where the sterile fluorescent lights flickered overhead, cutting through the dense fog that had somehow made its way into the building.

You slipped into his office, the familiar hum of machines filling the otherwise still space. The soft glow of his desk lamp cast faint shadows across the room. Everything was as it should be—quiet, composed, and a little lonely.

You hid behind his desk, your small witch dress catching the light as you waited. The air felt thick around you, almost like it was holding its breath. Then, the door creaked open. Zayne stepped inside, his shoulders heavy with the weight of the day, his tired eyes scanning the room, unaware of your presence.

With a playful grin, you jumped from behind the desk, hands raised in mock fright. “Boo!”

Zayne didn’t flinch. He simply paused, his gaze slowly lifting to meet yours, taking you in with a quiet, amused expression.

“Well,” he said, his voice low, “maybe you're not a witch... but a temptress.”

You blinked, momentarily surprised by his cool reaction, but then your lips curled into a mischievous smile. “A temptress, huh?”

Zayne’s lips twitched with a barely contained smile. “What kind of spell are you casting on me, then?” His voice dropped a little lower, his eyes never leaving yours.

The fog outside seemed to press in closer, softening the edges of the world around you. Inside, though, the tension between you two felt palpable, something far more intoxicating than a simple Halloween prank. It was just the two of you in the dimly lit office, the world outside blurred by the fog, sharing a perfect, unspoken moment.

[dollescented]

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖imgonnagetyouback.๋࣭𓂃

⋆˚࿔semi x fem!reader⋆˚࿔

synopsis : you and semi were in such as cotton candy sweet romantic relationship before semi ruined everything when she change the way she treated you, ghosting you and left you stranded. she decide to ending things with you and you don't have the reason to live anymore, but that was two years ago. you've decide to join the game between life and death to pay off your parents debts only to meet with semi in the game.

the third round is the mingle game.

half of the thousand players got their life taken away to burning down or nowhere else people could've find them. but the greedy players that's desperate for money has voted for the O's won the voting again to continue another game.

it's a mess in the first round, the second round, the third round, it's all like a chasing after the timing to find the exact amount of players when the number had called it out through the speaker. blood is stained everywhere on the floor, the screaming from other players outside the room is echoing along with the gunshot. however, semi can't help but to feel relieved when she got to save herself from eliminated when she's only with thanos teams and minsu.

but the feeling is only for temporary before thanos and namgyu decide to play rock paper and scissors for three players to choose between each other, they make minsu and semi playing the rock paper and scissors but semi stretching out her hand for minsu because she want to take him and find one more player for themselves instead letting one of them joining thanos and namgyu. when minsu is panic enough to pull out scissors hand sign to semi's hand that's for him, thanos and namgyu grab minsu away from the platform and semi felt like her heart sinking down.

she doesn't know how to feel when she thought that she could trusted minsu enough to be with him but he betrayed her just like that. luckily she found herself to be with another two players. after the fourth round, it's for the last round of the mingle game and semi couldn't find herself to ran toward minsu or be with thanos team anymore. the last round begin when the platform is spinning round and round with the children song again, the guide's voice is called out for two players. everyone is panicking searching for a partner for themselves and grab whoever they see.

semi is alone and she's panicking as she's glance around her to grab anyone that she seen without a partner yet, but her eyes widened in suprise when she felt someone suddenly grabbed her hand and leading her to running toward the empty room as the player with the number 223 slamming the door close and it locked by itself when the countdown is over, other players outside of the room is screaming for their life.

you had no idea who you were grabbing and leading in to the empty room with you when all you think about is to survive the mingle game. as the gunshot echoing from the outside of the room, you try to take a deep breath slowly and raised your head slightly to look at the player you've grabbed the hand earlier as your partner. but something heavy sinking down inside your stomach like a bubble, your heart skipped a beat before it beats faster than before as your eyes widened in shock when the player you've grab earlier is your ex-girlfriend.

on the other hand, you could see the way semi's got the same reaction as yours when you two are staring at each other like you've seen a ghost flashing over your eyes. the room is quiet, atmosphere has changes when semi lips parted to called out your name and asked you almost in quietscent. "why are you in here?" she ask but you didn't response to her questions. you're staring blankly to the floor when the flashback between you and semi of two years ago is running through in the back of your mind like a movie scene.

when the door is unlocked and you quickly swinging the door open to make your own way out of the room, you just want to escape from the game now that you've discovered that your ex-girlfriend is in the game too. after the mingle game, all the players return back to the facility room but you make your way to the toilet instead and luckily the guards allowed you so easily this time.

you're standing in front of the sink to wash your hands and fixing your long hair prettily in the mirror. before your breath caught up in your throat and your body is freezing when semi step out of one of the stall bathroom. the both of you are froze, but semi cleared her throat and walk toward the sink to wash her hands. she steal a glance to you through the mirror before her voice ringing through your ears.

"thank you for save me."

"i did it for myself." you respond to semi in almost cold and no emotions through your voice, she noticed the tone of your voice and she just realized how much she'd missing your voice. "why are you in here? why do you joining this game?" semi asked you out of curiosity but also because she felt sort of protectiveness toward you knowing this game is between life and death. you didn't look up to her and turned off the faucet sink. "i can do whatever i want, why does it matter to you?" you say as you turn around to walk away but stop in your track when semi grabbed your wrist.

"you shouldn't join this game, you can't stay in here you know? this game is about life and death, do you know how dangerous it is?" semi's voice is soft but firm tone to deliver her emotions through her words properly, she doesn't understand either why she's telling her ex-girlfriend what to do. you turning around and glaring up to semi with coldness in your eyes, you pull your wrist away from her grip. "so? i've participate in this game already. and there's no chance for me to leave this game if people like you keep voting to continue the game."

your eyes glance down to the blue patch on her jacket tracksuit before you turning around again and walk out of the toilet. semi had voted O's for the second voting time and the third round, but it's because she need the money desperately and the life of her outside the game is more scarier than the game itself. but you've voted for X's since the beginning after seeing half of the players died brutally in front of your eyes in the first and second game, but nothing change when the blue side has won.

the players vote for the X's or O's once again after the mingle game, most of the players has voted X's and the number only need to increase if the X's side get the chance to win this time. when the guard called out your number, you make your way to the voting table and pressed the X's button as it's beeping and walk away to standing on the red side with others. when it was semi's turn, you keep your eyes on her with crossed arms over your chest while you thought that she'll probably voting to stay in the game again. but your thoughts slowly dissapear when her hand press the X's button for the first time and the guard handing her the red patch to replace the blue one.

you look away from her when she turned around to make her way to standing on the red side, you didn't expect that she would change her vote for you or maybe you're just thinking too much that she change her vote for you when she probably doing it for herself. unfortunately, the voting ended up to draw in the same amount of number between the X's and O's teams which the guard had told them to continue the vote tomorrow and seeing if any of the player change their mind.

the facility room went lights out after the lady's voice had told all the players to sleep and continue for the game and voting tomorrow like yesterday. but the quiet room is only for temporary before you overheard the screaming voice from the X's side which is where your bed it is too. it wasn't just a scream, but screaming in pain and help with the clenching sound of other players stabbed the X's side players.

you quickly get up from your bed and trying to scanning your surrounded but the lighting flickering in the room make it harder to see someone or something. you grabbed the glass of cola bottle that the guard give to all the players earlier as their drinks, you're using them as the weapon to shield yourself from others. you had no idea how and why but the back of your mind snapped you to running and searching for semi and so you did.

the scream and clenching sound of stabbing is making your knees weak to hide yourself under the bunk bed from all of those insane players but you can't bring yourself to hide, when your heart is screaming to looking for semi. you stop in your track when you saw the glimpse of your ex-girlfriend is in the middle of all the bunk beds and namgyu is trying to stab her with the fork. before you could scream for semi's name, your heart stop when you heard her screams in pain as namgyu above semi stabbed her shoulder with the fork.

you snapped out of your fear and thoughts as you make your way forward forcefully and swinging the cola glass bottle toward namgyu's head as the glass shattered apart on the floor with a thud sound. his head is bleeding and groaning in pain as he turned around, you take a step back with fear in your eyes when he's grinning and get off from semi to lunged toward you with the fork. semi hissed in pain on her right shoulder but she get up from the floor and grabbed the piece glass on the floor to stabbed on namgyu's back from behind to prevent him from hurting you.

he fell down to his knees in pain and groaning as the fork is on the floor now, but before semi could continue to stabbing namgyu and killed him, you grabbed semi's hand and dragging her away from namgyu as you make you way to nowhere when the light is flickering. but the room went quiet as soon as the lights in the room are open and it isn't flickering anymore and the guards is coming up to the small stage inside the room, telling everyone to stop their fights.

when the guards check on the dead players, you dragging semi away from the other side and leading her to your bed instead. you pulled her down to sit on your bed, your hand covered the wound on her right shoulder to press the wound from bleeding. "you save me again...why?" your eyes looked up to semi who's staring at you with spark of something in her eyes.

how you'd wish to screaming at her, yelling at her with all the words that she has said to you two years ago, all the hurtful moments between you two of the past that haunted you down until today. but when you open your mouth to speak, nothing come out but a word to answer to her questions. "and i would do it all over again if had to."

the same night after the lights out horrifying game, you find yourself sitting next to semi on your bed with your knees is up to your chest and she's staring at your face like as if you're the most precious thing ever. "i'm sorry..for everything that i've put you through two years ago." your heart clenched like the shatter glass when semi apologize for the toxicity she has put in the relationship between you two.

"it's already in the past, i've moved on and it doesn't matter to me anymore." you says nonchalant tone in your voice as your legs slipped underneath the blanket, you lay your head on the pillow and close your eyes to force yourself to sleep only to feel a pair of warm arms is wrapping on your waist and the other is slipping underneath your head over the pillow. "but i haven't and i need you in my life again. it's hard for me to wake up everyday without the reason for me to live when you're not in my arms anymore."

those words make you fluttering your eyelids to open and your heart felt like it would stop beating when your face are so close with semi, your eyes is staring into her own like a sore sight and you can see a tears rolling down from semi's eyes to her cheeks in silent. you couldn't find yourself to response the way you wanted, you're trying to process her words all over again in your head, wondering if all of this is happening in real time in front of your eyes or were you just being delusional. but you know that you're not being delusional when semi's hand brushing away the strand of your hair and tucked behind your ear so gently, it makes you feel like it's the first time all over again.

"you don't have to accept me right now, you can take your time to think through your decision. i understand if you can't accept me to be in your life anymore." your heart feels like it'll explode in a second with the way you wanted to speak out your answer and telling semi that you're actually lying when you said that you've moved on, when in reality you're like a mess in the beauty thorns without her in your life.

but something holding you back from giving the answer she needed to hear. you only nodded your head as your eyes is still staring into semi's eyes as if you're looking at your own world. "thank you for save me, i promise to protect you throughout the next game or whatever that'll come up in here."

"you don't have to."

"i have to, i need to," semi quick in response makes your heart wildly beating so fast and the bubbling in your stomach is making you feel uncomfortable, but the warmness spreading through your lungs is like a butterfly when semi continue to speak her feelings. "because i still love you."

the three words that you were always hoping for to escape through semi's lips two years ago, when she ending what you thought you almost had with her, what you thought was forever with her, when you were begging on your knees for her to stay. you can't find the emotion to feel deeply when semi suddenly confessed her old feelings to you again, but tears flowing down through your eyes to your face in silent as your eyes is still staring into her own. semi felt like her whole world crumbling down to see you're crying because of her again, she hate to be the reason of your tears like in the past. her thumb brushing over your face and wipe away the tears gently, before pressing a soft kiss on your stained-cheeks like a touch of a flower.

you two cuddling in each other's arms until you're falling asleep in her arms so easily like you used to. it's always so easy for you to sleep whenever semi's holding you, especially it's like a cure for your insomnia. you hate to admit that you barely sleep well after she has left you and the insomnia came back to you, but now after a long time for the first time, you get the chance to sleep in semi's arms once again.

semi keep her eyes staring down to you like you're the universe, the world for her, the countless stars for her. the spark of love is in the sore eyes of hers, as she's caressing your cheek with her thumb gently and pressing another soft kiss on your forehead without waking you up, she spoke in quietscent, almost sound like a whisper and promising through her words and the look of love in her eyes for you.

"once we make it out of here and i will show you what's the meaning of love again, but this time, i will put the ring on your finger to make you as the love of my life forever."

˚ ༘ the endೀ⋆｡˚

[stawberri]

Sinners - heejake (+18)

Summary: just heejake fucking instead of attending their weekly mass.

gender: Smut, church boy, Delinquent, Degradation, BDSM, Knife Play, but there's no blood, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, ass eating, blowjob, Top Lee Heeseung (ENHYPEN), Bottom Sim Jaeyun | Jake (ENHYPEN), Face-Fucking, Troublemaker - Freeform

Ethan's family asked Jaeyun to take Ethan to the church in hopes of their son's change, but little did they know that Jaeyun hides something sinful beneath his angelic smile.

"Dad, what the actual fuck? I am not a kid for you to ask someone to look out for me!" Ethan shouted hysterically. Just the thought of someone guarding him irks him.

"I already told you that one more trouble and I'm gonna force you to change! I am a man of my words Ethan, and it's either you follow my orders or you'll end up with nothing on the streets." His Dad said sternly.

Ethan was left with no choice but to obey. He couldn't risk his great life. Also, it's just for 6 months, and after that, he could go back to making trouble again.

He flopped his body on his bed and closed his eyes. He's still annoyed from earlier, but there is a growing feeling of curiosity and excitement emerging in his chest.

"Who is that Jaeyun? And How is he supposed to help me? My parents are fucking crazy for thinking that a mere boy could change me to something better."

The next day came by so fast. Ethan was getting ready for Sunday's morning mass. There is a wrinkle in between his eyebrows as his hands harshly fix his necktie. He is wearing a powder blue button-down which is very unusual in his everyday outfit, which is any dark oversize tee and black ripped jeans.

"I look like a… good boy." He muttered as he grimaced at himself. He is not used to seeing himself like this: hair neatly brushed up, clothes well-ironed, and no excessive accessories hanging on his body.

He went down, and as he steps his foot towards their living room, the voices get louder and clearer. Ethan caught everyone's attention inside the room, including the pretty boy standing in front of their ancestral piano, which was owned by his late late late late late late grandfather.

"Oh My, Son! You looked good!" His mom said proudly; happiness danced in her orbs as she scanned her eyes on his only son.

"Ethan," his Dad called, "–this is Jaeyun, Jaeyun this is my son Ethan." His Dad pushed him gently towards Jaeyun, and Ethan couldn't help but be starstruck.

He never saw someone– particularly a guy– this pretty. Jaeyun is the total opposite of the normal Ethan; his whole being screams purity and decency– far from Ethan's impurity. His eyes scanned Jaeyun's divine features, from those dainty eyes that seemed to sparkle like those animated characters he watches online; those apple cheeks that are dusted with pinkish hues, and those saccharine smiles that took Ethan's breath away.

"Hello, my name's Jaeyun and I'll be your acquaintance for 6 months." even his voice is laced with purity. It is so endearing to Ethan's ears that he couldn't help but gape at the pretty boy standing timidly, arms tucked behind his back, in front of him as he gives Ethan the sweetest smile he has seen in his entire life.

"Enough with the introduction! You two will know more about each other in those six months. You guys can't miss the mass." his mother interrupted.

Ethan's parents guided the two to the door, his Dad whispering to his ears to drive slowly, and his Mom reminding him to act right and be kind to Jaeyun. Ethan only nodded to his parents' words as his mind was still clouded with Jaeyun's ethereal beauty.

"Ethan, listen to the priest's sermon."

"Yeah, Mom…" Ethan answered, his eyes rolling a bit.

The two hopped in the car. Jaeyun sat on the shotgun seat while Ethan sat in the driver's seat. None of them said something on the whole ride; they were just painfully silent throughout their way to the church. Jaeyun's fiddling his fingers as he waits for Ethan to park the car properly. He didn't waste a second getting out of the car once it was settled on the space because the tension inside was too much that he felt suffocated.

They sat in the backmost part of the church as to Ethan's request. He couldn't fathom sitting near the priest and the altar. Ethan was obviously ignorant the whole ceremony, contrasting with Jaeyun, who seems to know everything about the church.

Ethan sighed in relief when the mass ended. The both of them decided to wait till the waves of people who attended the ceremony abated. The growing tension between them once again suffocates Jaeyun, like a clamp squeezing his airway.

"The mass ended earlier than usual, we can have a cup of tea in my apartment if you want to," Jaeyun said hesitantly, afraid that Ethan would reject him, as they made their way towards the car.

"Sounds good," Ethan answered, which got Jaeyun's knees weak.

They arrived at Jaeyun's apartment after 40 minutes since Ethan doesn't know the way and he is driving very slowly. Jaeyun led Ethan to his living room and made the older sit on his two-seater couch as he prepared their tea.

The entire room was silent and the only sound that could be heard was the Black Oolong tea gushing out of the white teapot's nozzle. Before sitting beside Ethan, Jaeyun switched on his TV to lessen the awkwardness spreading around the four-cornered room. Because of their proximity, Jaeyun's captivating scent brushes his nostrils.

Even his smell is divine. Jaeyun smells like a whole-ass garden filled with fragrant flowers.

Ethan's lips slowly formed a smirk when he noticed Jaeyun's sideway glances. He had heeded the stolen gazes Jaeyun was giving him earlier, but he disregarded it. But it's piercing his soul, so, to confirm his assumptions, Ethan manspreaded and elevated his hips, showing the prominent bulge on his crotch (not because he's already hard, but because there is a monster hiding underneath the thin fabric of his pants). He let out an amused chuckle that caught Jaeyun's attention when he saw how Jaeyun's adam's apple bobbed up and down as he watched Ethan's move earlier.

He placed the tea cup on the table in front of them, creating a thud sound when the ceramic bottom of the cup met the wooden table.

"I can see you glancing, Jaeyunie, is there any problem?"

Jaeyunie… Jaeyunie… Jaeyunie

The nickname made his mind whirl. His breathing staggered as he noticed the playfulness laced in Ethan's voice.

He gets it. Jaeyun gets it.

And within a blink, Jaeyun switched into something– someone– that regaled Ethan.

Gone is the innocence in his eyes. Gone is the gentleness in his voice. Gone is the purity in his smile.

Everything about him is now entwined with sinfulness.

"You did so well earlier, Hyung. You listened obediently to the priest and I wanna make you feel good as my reward. D'you want that?" Jaeyun seductively said as he slowly crawled down towards the gap of Ethan's thighs.

Ethan was surprised. Who would've thought that the renowned angel in their town hides something filthy.

"Mhm. Let's see how good my reward is." After Ethan said that, Jaeyun scrambled in his place as he eagerly unbuckled Ethan's belt. His fingers held the waistband of Ethan's pants and boxers and pulled it down. His jaw fell as the long, girthy, and veiny cock of Ethan was displayed right in front of his eyes.

"Are you gonna suck it or– ugh." Ethan groaned midway as Jaeyun licked his rosy tip. His neck slacked on the headrest of the couch as Jaeyun continued playing the slit on his shaft.

He fondled his balls like those mushy toys you can buy in the market, along with the long strokes of his tongue on Ethan's cock. He is teasing the older with his warm tiny tongue, lips slightly tracing the thin skin. There is a sly smile on his face as he watches Ethan lose his mind. His eyes lingered on the vein on Ethan's slender neck as the older tried hard to control himself.

Jaeyun let out a gagging noise when Ethan pushed his cock all the way in his mouth, the tip poking the back of his throat. It was painful, but it's the kind of pain that Jaeyun would surrender again and again to. Ethan didn't let Jaeyun recover from the sudden push and just fucked the younger's mouth to his content, until there is white spurts of cum drizzling Jaeyun's throat.

"Fuck…" Ethan mutters along with an amused chuckle as he watches Jaeyun swallow every drop of his cum, not letting anything go into waste. "You did so good too, Angel. Do you perhaps want a reward too?"

And like an eager dog wanting to have a treat, he nodded his head hastily.

"Bend over the table, Angel." Jaeyun immediately followed and positioned half of his body above the wooden table as he perched his ass high up.

"Oh!" Jaeyun moaned when Ethan slapped his ass, red marks immediately appeared on his delicate skin.

Jaeyun dreamt about this every night for so long. He would play with himself all night, dreaming that it was Ethan giving him the pleasure; That it was his cock drilling his hole; not the pink dildo he bought in their neighboring city; that it was Ethan's mouth engulfing his pink bud and cock, that it was his fingers stretching his rim. Jaeyun would always go nuts whenever he heard one of his schoolmates bragging about how good and inhumane Ethan fucks.

He wants to experience that too.

And finally, after months of torture, he is here bent down on his coffee table as Ethan eat his ass.

"Right there!" he grumbled when Ethan's digits hit his spot, that got his mind into a whirlpool. Ethan's eyes turned into slits as he watch Jaeyun's pink hole clenched his thick fingers. He is so warm and tight inside that he could feel his cock go hard again under his boxers.

That wasn't the end of their obscenity because it just got progressively worse as days passed by.

Just like now, instead of attending the mass like what they're supposed to do, they're here in Jaeyun's fluffy mattress instead. There are series of groans and moans coming out of Jaeyun's luscious lips as Ethan fuck his hole with his thick and long digits, while there are black leather straps looped all over Jaeyun's body, stopping the younger from moving and touching Ethan.

Even though Jaeyun isn't untarnished as what people think he is, he still feels guilty sometimes, but the guilt can't stop him when Ethan is like a blazing ball of fire and Jaeyun is a weak moth that is drawn to his heat.

He keeps succumbing to him.

Ethan is fucking his hole mercilessly making him moan in deep pleasure, but it's not enough. He feels full but not full enough. He wants Ethan to stretch his rim with his girthy shaft– but the older kept teasing him even though he asked– begged nicely.

His eyes fluttered open when he felt Ethan stand up on the bed. He wanted to protest, but he couldn't wait any longer. The man walked over to his pants and grabbed something inside. That thing seemed to glow under the dim light of Jaeyun's room, and his breath hitched when he saw what Ethan grabbed in his pants. His chest heaves up and down as another bolt of excitement and desire crawled in his mind and body.

He stayed silent as he laid pliant on his bed, patiently waiting for what Ethan will do next. But he is never ready for Ethan's schemes. Never. He let out a loud yelp when Ethan removed the leather coiled all over his body and slapped it multiple times on his scorching skin. Jaeyun’s body writhed underneath Ethan from the delicious pain. His jaw dropped open as a long-drawn-out moan escaped his throat when a cold, hard thing entered his slicked hole. Ethan was slowly thrusting it, waiting for Jaeyun's response, but when the younger continued to moan, Ethan did not hesitate anymore. Jaeyun watched as Ethan fucked his wet cavern with the handle of his stainless steel pocket knife. His eyes rolled at the back of his head when Ethan angled it up, hitting his sweet spot, abusing it again and again.

"W-Wanna… come– please!" Jaeyun gritted, tears streaming down his pink cheeks.

"What is it, angel? Tell me what you want me to do." Ethan smirked, still thrusting the knife into Jaeyun's hole.

"I want to come, E-Ethan. Please t-touch me… fuck me… h-hard." he managed to say along with the hard thrusts of the knife in him.

"The angel wants to be fucked so bad?" Ethan mockingly asked which Jaeyun answered with chants of Yes! Yes! Yes! "On your knees you needy, slutty bitch." Ethan growled.

As much as he wants to further tease the younger under him, he can feel his cock painfully twitching in anticipation.

Another moan came out of Jaeyun's throat as Ethan parted his cheeks to have a better view of his slicked pink hole, stretched and ready to accommodate Ethan's monster cock. Jaeyun shuddered under the older when he stroked his rim, applying pressure that got Jaeyun's mind numb. He is so sensitive from all the foreplay Ethan did to him that a slight touch from either his hole or cock could make him reach his climax already.

His head sunk between his shoulder blades when Ethan placed his cock on top of his hole, dragging it up and down, creating friction between their heated sex.

"Please, Ethan, fuck me," he begged, voice trembling from too much stimulation.

"Alright then, since you've asked nicely and you've been an obedient and patient slut for me."

Ethan slammed every inch of his cock in a blink into Jaeyun's hole, forcing a scream of pleasure out of the younger. Ethan sucked in a breath as he felt the warmth of Jaeyun's while the younger's a moaning mess from the feeling of fullness.

Jaeyun could feel himself reaching his climax, but before he could beg Ethan to let him reach his high, the younger blurted out something that literally made his visions turn white.

"You're so loud, Jaeyunie. Do you want your neighbors to know that their angel is getting a good fuck right now, Huh?"

He wanted to answer Ethan with a loud yes, but he couldn't form a sentence in his state. He is so fucked up that half of his body is laying flatly on his mattress. If not only because of Ethan's palm gripping the sides of his hips, the other half of his body would surely surrender too. Jaeyun's hole clenched Ethan when the older fastened his pace, drilling his hole with animalistic thrusts.

"You like that, angel? You like my cock hitting your spot repeatedly as I fuck your brains out?"

"Y-Yeah… h-harder please!" Jaeyun pants, beads of tears forming in his eyes.

Ethan withdraws his cock and changes their position so he can better see Jaeyun. He wasn't disappointed at the view served to him. Ethan mutters a low thank you (not audible enough for Jaeyun to hear) to his parents for bringing this beautiful man into his life.

"Go on… act like the fucking cockslut that you are." Ethan said as he watched Jaeyun lose his mind, tongue lolled out, spit dripping down his chin, and eyes crossed from too much pleasure.

Jaeyun looked through his long lashes and his skin burned at the sight of Ethan watching their bodies connect while his mouth is open as it retreats series of moans, his veiny hands gripping Jaeyun's milky thighs, and his chest heaving up and down. He doesn't slow down the drilling of his hips, abusing Jaeyun's spot. The younger couldn't do anything aside from moaning. His brain is so fucked up that all he could see is white, that all he could feel was the undying pleasure that Ethan is giving him. The older angled his hips up and hung Jaeyun's legs on his shoulder as he thrusted deeper so the both of them could feel the most pleasure from connecting their bodies.

Not long after, Jaeyun screamed Ethan's name as he came along with Ethan. The cum painting his insides made it more pleasurable for Jaeyun. He felt so full and stuffed that he didn't want Ethan to withdraw his cock.

This was one of the most intense orgasms both of them had.

"Holy shit. Angel, that was so good." were the last words Jaeyun heard before he passed out.

Because they never did it slow, always rough and fast, Ethan prepared ointments beforehand to treat Jaeyun's rim and wounds as the younger succumbed to deep slumber. Unlike earlier, he is moving so gently to not wake Jaeyun up. He's been so rough today and he doesn't want to interrupt his rest.

"Sleep well, Angel. You did so good today." Ethan whispered to the younger's ears as he cuddled the man tighter while peppering his temples with sweet kisses.

Taglist: @fancypeacepersona , @acousarah

[aerodaltonimperial]

Been sitting on this, but I think maybe some of the younger generation of fans in fandom need to hear this.

Your fandom has X, and you don't like X. Now, this can be anything: a trope, a pairing, a kink. Doesn't matter. Some people in your fandom like X, and you don't. Now, the X-enjoyers get attacked by the antis over it, and let's say that you, because you also don't like X, gloat a little about this. Very "ha ha they got what they deserved." Let's say you make a few posts like this. You didn't do the attacking, right? So who cares?

Maybe I don't like X, either, but I do like Y. And I look at what you have been posting about X, and I think oh, maybe they feel the same way about Y. Maybe if they find out that I like Y, they will do the same thing to me. And now, you are no longer a safe space for me in fandom. I don't want to share it with you. I stop starting conversations, because maybe I wrote X in a past fandom and I'm afraid you'll find out. Maybe X and Y are close enough that I worry you will decide they are on the level of "bad." Maybe I just don't like the way you treated other people in the fandom when they needed support.

Fandom is a community. Fanfic is fiction. And this purity culture shit needs to die. I've been in fandoms for over two decades, and I've watched waves of this come, and I don't think that younger fans understand what it used to be like to have to warn for any queer relationships. To have friends add "anti-yaoi" banners on their GeoCities sites. To see scores of fics wiped off platforms because someone decided they were bad and mass deleted, with no warning. This is a slippery slope, assigning morality to the fiction people write, and once it starts, it doesn't stop. You may think you are "morally pure" for not liking X, but friend, everyone in the fandom has been writing Z the whole time, including you, and just wait until that becomes the trigger for the antis to attack.

Be better. And don't become part of the problem.

[vigilante-3073]

It’s my birthday is on Saturday! Could I have please a Gregory house x reader imagine?

Birthday Girl

Gregory House x Female Reader

Summary: It is Y/N's birthday and everyone seems to have forgotten but House.

TW: Established relationship, surprise party, House being sneaky.

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 🥳🎂🎉 Hope you have the best day ever!

F/N: Father's name M/N: Mother's name

It was Y/N's birthday.

Y/N was a relatively simple person and didn't expect much fanfare on her birthday, but she at least wanted it to be acknowledged. It was almost lunchtime and not one person had wished her a happy birthday.

Y/N hadn't received a single call or text from friends or family either and it was starting to get to her. She sat alone at a table in the cafeteria, picking away at a dry muffin while trying not to cry.

Y/N looked up when House sat down across from her, her eyes quickly returned to the dissected baked good as she tried to keep herself together.

"You've been upset about something all day long. You've been virtually useless in differentials and I think I know why," House started.

"Why?" Y/N questioned softly.

He stuck a hand into his blazer, pulling out a pink envelope and setting it down on the table. Y/N glanced up at him before picking it up, she opened it and slid out a card.

It was blue with a cartoon goose in a party hat on the front, in swirly pink writing it read:

Happy Birthday, you silly goose!

Y/N felt tears gathering in her eyes, "Happy birthday, Y/N," House said.

"Thank you," She said softly.

"I made reservations for us at that fancy place you like, I'll pick you up at eight," House stated.

"Okay," Y/N smiled.

House stood up from the table, "Get some real food in the meantime, none of the stuff they bake here is edible," House said.

House and Y/N had been dating for almost three years. She was an important member of his team and feelings developed between them as they spent more time together. House always had a soft spot for Y/N and he tended to be more gentle with her than he was with other members of his team.

Cuddy and Wilson both talked to Y/N when their relationship was in the early stages. They wanted her to be careful and advised her that being with him was not a good decision.

Y/N and House worked together, he was her boss and he was House, which was reason enough for her to steer clear.

House was rude, manipulative, sarcastic and downright abrasive while Y/N was the complete opposite. She was kind, trusting, soft-spoken and generally sweet, everyone who met her absolutely loved her.

Wilson and Cuddy thought that House would ruin her.

House may not have always been the romantic type, but he definitely cared for Y/N. He looked out for her in ways that weren't obvious, discreetly checking in to make sure she was doing alright.

For the most part, House had done well with keeping his relationship out of the workplace. Other than a few nasty jokes here and there, he treated her the same as his other employees. Things got easier as time went on and Cuddy was actually surprised that he was able to compartmentalize.

The rest of the day was eventful, but it wasn't anything out of the ordinary when it came to being on a case with House. The patient was lied to and browbeaten into making the decision that eventually led to their diagnosis and subsequent cure.

House drove to her apartment after they had finished the case, he brought her a bouquet of flowers and a wrapped gift. He made his way up to the door and knocked, breath catching in his throat when he saw her.

Y/N had always dressed well, but seeing her fully made up always managed to take his breath away.

"You look hot," He said.

Y/N smiled, "Thank you," She replied.

"Got these for you," House said, holding out the bouquet to her.

"Aw, that's sweet. Just give me a minute to put them in some water and then we can go, okay?" Y/N asked, House nodded.

Y/N made her way into the kitchen, House stepped into her apartment and closed the door. He set the gift on the table next to the couch, moving over to the kitchen and watching Y/N as she trimmed the flowers.

Y/N placed the colorful flowers into the water before setting the vase in the center of her kitchen island.

"I know you like pink so I asked for whatever was the most pink," House stated.

"I love them. Thank you, Greg," Y/N smiled.

He nodded, "We should get going, got a reservation in twenty minutes," He said.

...

Dinner went off without a hitch, they had a few drinks and shared a dessert before House walked her back to his car. He opened the door for her, she thanked him as she slipped inside.

House nodded, closing the door behind her before moving around to the driver's side. He drove back to her apartment with the radio playing softly as they talked. House parked the car and walked her up to her apartment, standing behind her as she unlocked the door.

Y/N opened the door, the lights turned on suddenly before the large group of party guests yelled, "Surprise!"

Y/N turned to look at House, "Did you plan this?" She asked.

He nodded, "I know how crazy you are about birthdays so I told everyone to keep quiet about it until the party... Then you were moping around so much that I caved and got you the card," House said.

Y/N smiled, sliding her arms around him and giving him a hug, "Thank you," She mumbled.

He returned her embrace, "You're welcome... Now go enjoy your party," He said.

Y/N pulled away, stepping into her apartment with a happy smile. Everyone was there, including her parents that House flew to New Jersey for the occasion.

House settled himself on the couch with a drink as he watched his girlfriend interact with her friends and family. He knew that he was lucky to have her, but times like these just showed him exactly how lucky he was.

Y/N almost had too many friends to invite, everyone she had ever met fell in love with her and it baffled him.

How could a person be so magnetic to everyone around them without intending to be?

Y/N had no greater motivations, she was just genuinely happy and House wanted to be like that.

Y/N made her way over, sitting down on the couch beside House and crossing her legs, "You enjoying the party?" He asked.

"I am, but you're not," Y/N stated.

"I enjoy spending time with you, not a fan of the crowd," House said.

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" She questioned.

"You just want me to help you clean up this mess," House said, Y/N rolled her eyes with a smile.

"You're right, I only want you to stay over for your cleaning abilities. Not because I like you or anything," Y/N teased.

"I'll stay," House nodded.

"Good, I was hoping that you would," She replied.

"Since I managed to steal you away from your many adoring fans," He started, reaching over and grabbing the wrapped gift that he had left on the table.

House held it out to her, "Open it," He said.

Y/N took the gift from his hand, carefully tearing away the paper. She let out a soft gasp when she realized what it was, a pristine first edition copy of her favorite book.

"Where did you find this?" She asked softly.

"I've been looking around for a while," House said.

"House, this must've cost you a fortune," Y/N said, looking over the book and examining the details.

"You're worth every penny," He stated.

Y/N looked up at him, "You're a really sweet guy, House. Thank you," She said.

He nodded, "I should go introduce myself to your parents, learn what kind of craziness is in my future," House said.

"You go do that," Y/N said, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. House stood up from the couch, making his way over to Y/N's parents.

"Hi, I don't think we've met. I'm Gregory House," He said.

"I'm F/N and this is my wife, M/N. Thank you for inviting us," Y/N's father said.

"Yes, we really appreciate you flying us down to see her," M/N said.

"Of course, you're her parents and you should be here," House nodded.

"We've heard a lot about you, Doctor House," M/N said.

"Don't believe everything you hear... Unless they're good things, then they're completely true," House said.

M/N smiled, "Our daughter seems quite smitten with you and I can definitely see why," She said.

"I'm a lucky guy," House nodded, tapping his cane on the ground gently.

"I was actually hoping to get your blessing to ask her to marry me," House admitted.

Her mother smiled widely, looking over at her husband, "I just need to know one thing, Doctor House... Do you love her?" F/N asked.

"More than I've ever loved anything," House stated.

"Then of course, you have our blessing," F/N said, holding out his hand to House. He shook her father's hand with a small smile, knowing that he was about to make the best decision of his life.

...

Y/N woke up the next morning, eyes fluttering open to the bright sunlight filtering in through the window. Y/N turned onto her other side, realizing that the space beside her was unoccupied. House tended to have bouts of insomnia, but usually wound up in bed beside her before she woke up in the morning.

Y/N let out a soft sigh, eyes drifting over to the alarm clock on the nightstand.

"Oh, crap," She mumbled, climbing out of bed quickly and rushing into the bathroom when she realized that she was incredibly late for work.

Y/N brushed her teeth, combing her hair and pulling it up into a ponytail. Y/N made her way out of the bathroom, searching through her clothing quickly to find an outfit.

"Where's the fire?" House asked, making his way into the bedroom with a tray in his hands.

"I'm really late," Y/N mumbled shakily, trying to keep the panicked tears at bay.

"I called in for you and I already," House said.

"You did what?" Y/N asked, turning to face him.

"You and I are out sick for the day," He stated.

Y/N let out a huff, her shoulders sinking as she looked at him, "Why didn't you tell me?" She asked.

"You were asleep," He shrugged, "Get back in bed, I made breakfast," He said.

Y/N shuffled over to the bed, climbing under the blankets and settling on the mattress with her back against the headboard.

House placed the tray over her lap, "I thought I had a bit more time before you woke up in a panic," He said, moving around the bed and getting in beside her.

Y/N huffed, "You almost gave me a heart attack," She said.

"My bad... I hope that the chocolate chip pancakes and bacon I made will fix it," He said.

"It might," Y/N replied. She shared her meal with House, sipping on her coffee while he watched her.

"I have a question for you," He said, she looked over at him.

House slipped a hand into the pocket of his pyjama pants and pulled out the small velvet box. He flipped the lid open with his thumb before holding it out in front of her. Y/N's eyes widened, gaze flickering between the ring and House.

"Will you marry me?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, what?" Y/N mumbled quietly, House smiled.

House let out a soft laugh, hand dropping onto the bed, "Did you not understand the question?" He asked.

"No... I-I don't know," Y/N said softly.

"I'm gonna ask again, alright?" House questioned, she nodded.

"Will you marry me?" He asked.

"Did you ask my dad?" Y/N questioned.

"I don't want to marry your dad, I want to marry you," House stated, smile widening.

"No, did you ask him for his blessing?" Y/N asked.

"Of course I did and he said yes. Now, I'm gonna ask you for the third time and I need you to focus because asking four times would be humiliating, alright?" House said.

"I'm sorry, I just- I wasn't ready," Y/N said, her cheeks flushing.

"Will you marry me?" House asked.

"Yes," Y/N replied, a wide smile breaking out across her face.

"Finally! My god, I was starting to think that I'd never get an answer," House said.

Y/N cupped his cheeks, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss. She pulled away and House took her left hand into his, plucking the ring from the box and sliding it onto her finger.

Y/N smiled as she looked down at it, "It's beautiful, House," She said.

"Wilson helped me pick it out. He's got a lot of experience with ring shopping," House said.

"Well, I love it, it's perfect," Y/N assured.

"I'm glad you like it... Happy birthday, Y/N," He said.

[veryextraincorrectfegbaquotes]

Sad Shanna Lore won the poll so now I present to you the text that explains that one thing age said while beating Ain with a chair!

To say it all changed when he died would be inaccurate. Him dying had just further entrenched things. Shanna had already been feeling minimised, underestimated and babied. She was naturally meek, shy and soft-spoken, and on top of all that she was the youngest of four sisters. The only way to avoid being babied would be to run away, and Shanna would never have the guts to do that. Well, she'd have the guts, but not the lack of sense to try to strike out on her own in a small town. Could she get set up? Sure, there'd be folk nice enough to give her a place. Could she avoid her family? No way in hell.

What sealed her away as shouting on the inside only was when her father died. He'd been a poor father, to say the least, but being handed a divorce made him realise what he'd been taking for granted, and made him desperate to reconnect with his family. But Fiora, Farina and Tate had all chosen their stance, and it was that they wanted nothing more to do with him. But Shanna was too young and too kind to a fault to genuinely hate him. So he brought everything he had to reconnecting with her. Days out, short trips, everything he could manage. It was the happiest she'd been in ages, since he kept bringing her to new places where she could try her hand at things. Winning at carnival games, going on the biggest roller-coasters, sitting in the splash zone. They were her efforts, her choices, hers.

Then he died. It was a mundane thing, slipped at home, hit his head on the edge of a counter, nobody there to call for help, closed his eyes and never opened them again. For everyone in Shanna's family except her, it was a morbid convenience. A drawn out divorce involving a man they wanted nothing to do with was suddenly tidied up. They could wash his hands of him, and so they did. They assumed Shanna felt the same. Assumed she'd just been humouring him, meek little Shanna too shy to tell him no. They didn't go to his funeral. So no-one could take Shanna. They never even imagined she might want to go. Too sad an affair for someone as emotional as her, they reasoned.

Who could she talk to about this? Tell her family that the man they could never love again she'd learned to love? Not forgive, but still see value in? Someone to cry over in private? Someone all the photos of had been thrown out, except the few she had snagged and hidden? They hated him. She couldn't say they were wrong to hate him, he'd earned it. But she didn't hate him. She didn't hate anyone. She hated conflict. So she withdrew yet further, spending her time alone. Her dear sisters would only see her as their baby sister. Her mother would only see her as her baby girl. Did anybody see Her? Was it only when she looked in the mirror? Was it ever?

With no-one to talk to, nobody she felt she could be genuine with, and no desire to cause trouble, Shanna could do nothing. She could sit in her room, look at secret photos and write in secret diaries, while away hours reading scary stories and watching scary videos to remind her she was alive. Was she depressed? How could she tell? If she was, what would it matter? Who would she tell, what would she do. Stay quiet, stay out of the way, say Hi with a smile, do your chores and a bit extra to show you care, stay in your room so you don't spend more time than you have to feeling like your family is condescending you. One day into the next into the next, look out the window at night and wonder if anyone else feels like this, put your hand against the glass, hoping a bit of your warmth can reach them if they're out there, get a bit scared from staring out into the darkness. Night into day, day into night, what day is it? Doesn't matter. Nothing can keep earnest little Shanna down, she's anxious and scared but does her best! It's not wrong, but it's not everything.

Go on forums and never say anything. Go in chatrooms and don't type. It doesn't feel real, but what does? Day in, day out. Have I seen this video before? Are they all blending together? No matter, watch it again, it's not real anyway. Say Hi with a smile, do your chores and a bit extra to show you care, go to the town wall just to look out at the forest, imagine going there at night, it'd be so scary but so alive. Does the tree falling alone in the forest at least own the thud it makes? Ride your pegasus, imagine just flying in a direction and not stopping until you hit the ground. Where would you end up? Would the sky look different, there? Is emptiness less lonely than feeling like nobody sees you? Does any of it matter out there, with nobody else in sight or sound? Day in, day out.

Get dragged out of your room, told to make a friend. Push back, you're tired of always acquiescing, emptiness is comfortable now. Meet someone, she's different from you, but also seem to want to get away from everyone in the world for a while. You feel like there would be comfortable, but still not yours. She feels like she'd belong there, like a proud stone pillar, like Stonehenge. Maybe you could learn from her? Is this being friends? Being with her makes you happier, it'd been a while. She's protective, but not to a degree that makes you want to go somewhere else. She doesn't bar you from things, if you say you want to try she hangs back as you try. She's harsh, not as harsh as she is to others but still enough to make it feel like she knows you can handle it. Her name is Clarine. She's your best friend.

Day in, day out. Go spend the day with her, both of you want nothing else. Go out walking, go have picnics, go to her place that's small but being so close to her makes your heart flutter. Smile brightly, hurry through your chores but still doing a bit extra to show you care, almost skip out the door to see your friend, tell her stories about the things you do without her, she listens and questions, doesn't just pat your head and call you cute. Day in, day out, always something to look forward to. Look at the photos, wonder what it would've been like if they'd met. Only look at them though, not staring. Don't stay up late, lots to do tomorrow. Go on an adventure, do things that matter that only you are trusted to do. Everything has changed and it's all getting better. Still not time to tell her about the past, but it's not as important anymore.

[minicookiedemonx]

HEAT OF THE MOMENT

Hi my writer name is mini, I used to write a lot of smut when I was younger but lost interest. But I’m back with a bang! I hope somebody enjoys this. This is my first post to this community and I’ve enjoyed what I’ve read so far! I don’t know how to set mine up too look as cool as everyone else’s :p.

Edit credit @ myself

Summary: Fem reader POV; You cause a scene at a local bar causing Officer Gojo to escort you off the premises. The reader is alluring, seductive and teasing him with lust. Causing Officer Gojo to then lose his composure and disregard protocol.

Warnings; rough, jjksmut ,gojosatorusmut ,NFSW , outdoor sex, authority-kink, creampie, nofluff , gojosmut, gojoxfemreadersmut, hair pulling, fingering, breast sucking.

Word count; 2k

The bar was alive with chaos—laughter, shouting, the clinking of glasses—but none of it compared to the scene you were making at the center of it all. You weren't even sure how it had escalated this far, but the combination of spilled drinks, a bruised ego from the guy you'd argued with, and the bartender's exasperation had turned a fun night out into something more... memorable.

"Miss, you need to calm down," the bartender said, his patience clearly worn thin.

You rolled your eyes, leaning on the counter with a playful smirk. "I'm calm. Maybe you're the one who needs to relax. How about a drink? On the house, perhaps?"

Before the bartender could respond, the door to the bar swung open, and in strode Officer Gojo Satoru. His presence commanded attention instantly—tall, broad-shouldered, and wearing an air of authority that clashed with the cocky smirk he wore so effortlessly. His uniform fit him a little too perfectly, and his white hair, pushed back in a carefree style, gleamed under the dim lights. He slid his shades down just enough to scan the room with those piercing blue eyes.

You froze for half a second, watching as he approached with a slow, deliberate stride. The murmurs in the bar quieted as he stopped in front of you, towering over you with an air of unshakable confidence.

"Miss. Y/N," he said, his voice calm but edged with annoyance. "I heard you've been causing some trouble."

You gave him your most innocent smile, tilting your head as you looked up at him. "Trouble? That doesn't sound like me. I'm just having a little fun."

His gaze was unamused, his smirk faint but sharp. "Yeah, well, your 'fun' just earned you a call to the police. So, either you come with me quietly, or we can make this a lot more complicated."

You couldn't resist pushing your luck. "Come on, Officer. You don't really want to arrest me, do you? You've got those gorgeous eyes, that perfect jawline—wouldn't you rather stay here and let me buy you a drink?"

The bartender audibly sighed, but Gojo didn't flinch. He leaned forward just slightly, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his voice dropping lower. "Flattery doesn't work on me, sweetheart. Try again."

"Oh, but you can't blame a girl for trying," you said, your grin widening as you let your eyes linger on him just a little too long. "What about a smile? Surely I can charm a smile out of you?"

Gojo's lips twitched, but he didn't budge. Instead, he grabbed your wrist gently but firmly, his grip unyielding as he straightened up. "That's enough. Let's go."

Your grin faltered for a moment as he pulled you away from the counter, his calm yet authoritative demeanor leaving no room for argument. Still, you couldn't help yourself. "You really know how to kill the mood, you know that?"

"You'll thank me later," he replied dryly, his voice laced with sarcasm as he led you through the crowd. His hand on your wrist was firm, but not harsh, and you couldn't help but admire the way he handled you with such practiced ease.

As you were escorted out of the bar, you glanced over your shoulder, tossing a playful smile his way. "So, Officer, do you do this for all the pretty girls, or am I just special?"

He rolled his eyes, though there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You're definitely... something."

Once outside, he released your wrist but positioned himself squarely in front of you, his imposing figure blocking your escape. His shades were now perched on top of his head, those sharp blue eyes boring into yours.

"Listen," he said, his tone serious. "I'm going to give you one chance to walk away and go home. No more scenes, no more trouble."

You crossed your arms, tilting your head with a sly smile. "What if I don't want to go home? What if I want to stay out here... with you?"

His jaw tightened, and for the briefest moment, you thought you saw his confidence waver. But then his smirk returned, more smug than before. "Y/N, I've got more patience than most, but you're really pushing it."

You stepped closer, just enough to challenge him. "Or maybe you like being pushed."

His expression hardened, his voice dropping low. "This isn't a game."

"Oh, but it could be," you whispered, your voice dripping with mischief.

"Alright, Y/N," he said, voice low and steady. "Here's the deal. You're going to calm down, and we're going to the station. No more games."

You smirked, leaning your back against the cold brick wall behind you. "Games? I think you're the one making this more serious than it has to be. I was just having fun, Officer."

He stepped closer, his broad shoulders cutting off the light and casting a shadow over you. "Fun? You think dragging me out here in the middle of my shift is fun?"

You tilted your head, your lips curving into a playful grin. "I didn't drag you anywhere. You came all on your own. Besides, maybe you like this more than you're willing to admit."

His blue eyes narrowed behind his shades, which now sat low on his nose. "I told you to stop pushing me."

You shrugged, unbothered. "And I told you I don't think you'll do anything about it."

That was all it took. Before you could blink, Gojo spun you around and grabbed your wrists, pinning them above your head, pressing his body against your back with enough force to make your heart race but not enough to hurt. You could feel his member betray his non-intrested demeanor by rubbing into your ass. You could feel how deeply excited he was- even if he didn't want to admit it.

"I warned you," he said, his voice dangerously low, his breath hot against your ear. "But you just can't help yourself, can you?"

You met his gaze head-on, unflinching, your smirk still intact. "What can I say? I like seeing you lose control."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, it looked like he might snap. But then he pulled back abruptly, releasing your wrists and stepping away as though the mere proximity was too much. He reached into his belt and pulled out a pair of handcuffs.

"You're under arrest," he said coldly, his voice hard and professional once more.

Your grin only widened as he spun you around, snapping the cuffs onto your wrists with practiced ease. "Aw, Officer, you didn't have to go to all this trouble just for me."

"Keep talking," he muttered, steering you toward his patrol car as he read you your rights.

He opened the back door and guided you inside, his touch firm but careful. As he climbed into the driver's seat and started the car, you couldn't help but notice the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly.

The drive to the station started in silence, the hum of the engine filling the air. But you couldn't resist.

"So, Officer Gojo," you began, your voice lilting with amusement, "is this how you spend all your nights? Arresting harmless bar patrons and pretending you're not ridiculously attractive?"

"Y/N," he warned, his eyes focused on the road, his voice tight.

"What?" you asked innocently. "I'm just making conversation. It's not my fault you've got this whole 'hot cop' thing going on. You must get this all the time."

He didn't answer, but you caught the way his jaw clenched, his knuckles whitening as his grip on the wheel tightened.

You leaned forward as far as the cuffs and seatbelt would allow. "You know, you're kind of cute when you're pretending to be all serious. I wonder what it would take to make you crack."

"Stop," he said through gritted teeth.

"Stop what?" you teased. "I'm just talking. It's not like I'm doing anything wrong. You wouldn't pull over just because I said you had nice eyes, would you?" Gojo ignored you and you sighed with annoyance. You weren't going to give up that easily.

"Honestly the way you pressed me against that wall back there...made me kind of hot. You know...down there?" I spread my legs open slowly, unsure if he could see me do so but regardless they opened wide.

Officer Gojo remained silent, determined to remain calm and collected.

"So hot that when I go home tonight, and I touch myself, I might just think about that to get me off," you paused for a second. "Do you like the thought of that? Me all alone in my bed, circling my clit while moaning your name," you rolled your head back onto the head rest and jokingly moaned his name, "Ohh Officer Gojo,  just saying your name makes me so wet."

That was the last straw. Without warning, Officer Gojo pulled the car to the side of the deserted road, the tires crunching against gravel as he shifted the car into park. He got out and made his way to the back door, opening it furiously, meeting your gaze with extreme frustration in his eyes.

"Y/N," he said, his voice low and rough as he leaned closer towards you through the door. "I've been patient. I've been professional. But you just don't know when to quit, do you?"

You smiled, unbothered by his sudden intensity. "Maybe I just like getting under your skin. Seems like I'm pretty good at it."

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before leaning closer, his face inches from yours. "Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you're asking for?"

"Trouble?" you echoed, your voice soft and teasing. "Is that what you call this? Because I think you're the one who's in trouble, Officer."

His gaze flickered to your lips for just a moment before he closed his eyes, as if trying to collect himself. But when he opened them again, all the restraint was gone. "You don't know what you're doing to me."

"Then show me," you challenged, leaning forward just enough that your lips nearly brushed his.

Officer Gojo groaned, low and guttural, before finally giving in. His lips crashed against yours with a desperation that sent a jolt of heat through your entire body. The cuffs on your wrists pressed uncomfortably against the seat, but you didn't care. His hands were on you—cupping your face, tangling in your hair, pulling you closer as though he couldn't get enough.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was heavy, his forehead resting against yours. "You're going to be the death of me, Y/N," he murmured, his voice rough and raw.

You smiled, still breathless. "Well, at least you'll die happy."

His lips collided with yours once again, meshing together with ease, you slipped your tounge in and his eagerly fought yours for dominance. One of his hand slide down from your face and under your shirt, onto your breast, gripping it tightly before pulling back and pinching your nipple.

You moaned into his mouth as he played with your breast, the excitement building inside you began to pool onto your panties. His lips remained locked onto yours as his hand travelled south before hiking up your mini skirt, revealing your black laced thong.

He pulled back to observe you, his face flushed as he panted. "You're going to get me in so much trouble," his fingers slide over your aching core, making sure to stop and focus on your hardened bud with a few quick circles.

You eagerly bucked your hips into his hands, whimpering for more. "Fuck you're so fucking wet," he groaned, using his fingers to push your panties to the side before running his fingers between your slits again as you oozed onto his fingers.

His thumb traced your clit, sending shivers throughout the your whole body as you felt the crisp air meet your wet core. Exposed and open, the only thing you were worried about is how soon you could get Officer Gojo to fuck you.

"You're such a fucking slut," Officer Gojo panted huskily, "willing to give up your pussy just to avoid jail time," he smirked dipping a finger into you, causing a loud gasp to escape your lips. He hummed at the sound, "But if you let me fuck you like the slut you are, it might work out for you." Officer Gojo stated with a smirk, locking eyes with you.

Your head rolled back with ecstasy as you felt his fingers curl in an upward motion behind your cervix. His fingers were so fucking long and they were hitting all the right spots. You were a gasping, moaning mess, you gazed down to Gojo to see his eyes locked onto your pussy.

Watching as his fingers moved in and out of you with an urgency that signaled he was having just as much fun as you were. He looked up at your gaze, locking eyes with you.

His gaze was no longer cold and harsh, but filled with desperation and lust. He added another finger before he starting pumping into your pussy effortlessly. The cuffs were digging into your wrist behind you, it stung but you could care less- it honestly made things hotter.

He observed you as he finger fucked you into oblivion, the way his fingers curled inside you had you craving for more. You wanted him-no needed him inside you. You turned your gaze down to his crotch and saw how tight the fabric around his dick had gotten.

The sight of him made you moan out desperately, "I want you inside me, I need you to fuck me," you said, panting inbetween words. He chuckled at the sounds of your desperation, "and...why should I do that" gojo stated with a low seductive tone, slowing the pace of his fingers.

"Because I'm your dirty little slut," you say with a smirk on your face, locking eyes with him as you pull his fingers out of you and latch your mouth around them, licking them clean.

Officer Gojo groaned at the sight and quickly grabbed you out the backseat and slammed you against the car. He pressed his chest to your back as he pinned your arms on top of your lower back.

His hips bucked into your ass, aggressively grinding his harden cock against your rear end. All this foreplay had riled Officer Gojo up to the point he felt as if his cock would burst from the seams if he didn't relieve himself soon. He kissed your neck as he pulled down your skirt and panties in one swift movement.

You heard his belt unbuckled and Officer Gojo undo his zipper rapidly. You went to turn around and greet his member but he roughly pushed you against the car. "You stay right there and look pretty while I fuck the shit out of you," he sternly stated, you nodded your head like a good girl.

He bent you over before spreading your legs, you felt him line his tip up with your aching core. He slapped it against your harden clit, causing you to hiss with desperation. You were so sensitive down there, however, you couldn't help but crave for more. He teasingly slide it between your slit, back and forth slowly before plunging deep into you.

You didn't get a chance to see his dick before it entered you but by the way it filled you up told you everything you needed to know. Officer Gojo moaned loudly as he entered you, taking his time with the first few strokes. Embracing the feeling of your tight, wet pussy griping all around his cock. It was almost too much for him to handle.

He began pounding into you with no mercy, the sound of skin clapping echoed as it blended with the sounds of the crisp breeze and eerily silence of the night. Officer Gojo was unfolding right in front of you, and you couldn't help but join him- fucking him had me  ecstatic.

"Fuck your pussy is so tight baby," Officer Gojo cooed as he gazed down, watching his dick slide in and out of you. He bit his lip in admiration, " and it looks so fucking good on my dick." He slapped your ass harshly while thrashing into you, you gasped at the sudden movement but quickly became the moaning slut gojo had turned you into.

He took a handful of your hair and pulled you back, finding ways to penetrate you in ways you have never imagined. You could hear Officer Gojo attempting to restrain himself from moaning loudly, whimpers left between his parted lips. The sounds drove you absolutely insane, you didn't take him for a whimper but you were loving every second of it.

"I can't believe you convinced me to do this to you," gojo stated, slowing his flow and pumping at a slow rate. "If you weren't such a desperate, needy fucking slut, I could be home by now." You moaned quite my as he fucked you through his lecture.

"But instead you have me in the middle of nowhere, losing my mind over how fucking good your pussy feels," and just like that gojo went right back to pounding you with no mercy. He needed to feel every inch of you, better yet- he needed to fill every inch of you.

You don't know how but he found a way to fuck you faster, even rougher, at this point no noise could espace your lips as he had fucked you into another dimension and you could barely process how good his dick felt inside you. You felt a familiar knot building in your lower abdomen.

"If you keep fucking me like that, I'm going to cum," you said breathless. A light clicked in Officer Gojo, his cock twitched in response. "Go ahead baby, be a good slut and cum all over my dick as I fill your pussy up," he was also breathless, he voice slightly cracking.

He pounded roughly into you until your pussy grasp and pulsated on his cock, triggering for him to spill every drop of cum inside you. It felt good, it felt amazing cumming on top of him as he filled you up. You were convinved there was no better feeling than fucking officer gojo.

He stepped back and pulled himself out of you, tucking his member back into his underwear and redressing. You turn to look at him, your face covered with red and beads of sweat. A smirk lacing your lips,

"So officer Gojo, are you still going to arrest me?"

-

HOPE YALL ENJOYED! MORE TO COME!

[auguryofjellyfish]

random day 25 thoughts let's go

another otherwordly Tetro Friday? what's with chap 4, I swear, so far it's been a stream of endless bangers.

first of all, I hope Hiroaki and Tamba had a good day 😭 it was strange to not see Hiroaki at all....

[Oyasumi]

is that a goddamn Omori reference?? naw, it's not, but that's where everyone's mind went first and mine as well lol.

Oyasumi, oyaaasumi, close your eyes and you'll leave this dream....

normally something like this would make me worried, but honestly? i'm not. because Wada is not going to die. I'm not even considering the possibility. he's going to be okay. he might suffer but he's definitely going to make it. i'm not even scared of his death at all cause it's not gonna happen (except if they kill everyone in endgame). if he survived chapter 3, he can survive anything.

either way....such a sweet episode <3 loved the amount of focus Wada is getting like, THAT'S MY GOAT!!! I LOVE WADA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! please give him all the love and hugs.

HE'S NOT EATEN FOR 3 DAYS!! ?!??! Wada...i thought he'd not eat one day at a time, but, three...? no wonder he's crashing again. if the starvation motive hits, nnnnn holy shit but no he's going to be okay. trust.

I still need time to fully process [Bruise] but good lord, while watching it made my chest feel so heavy it felt like it was caving in. fucking concave. just. Mai. Ojima. it was so painful and so heavy but, i was overflowing with pride for them both. they're so incredibly strong. i love Ojima sm....

[Refulgence Post Mortem]

he loved Kamimura. he loved him. he didn't need to say it at all. i just knew from the way he talked about him. the way his voice went soft, the fondness, the light amusement... how Kamimura was stubborn, argumentative, funny, smart, kind... he made him sound so special. he painted such a lovely picture with his words.... and he had so much to say about him. he thought and worried about him a lot, Kamimura was interesting to him (!!!!!) ..... I hope Kamimura at least could tell that Ken really really liked him...he probably did.

he didn't always care about what Ken was talking about but he cared enough to pretend, always...this just...just. Kamimura cared so fucking much too.

on one hand, this is kinda nice, because Ken would never say all of this to Kamimura, so if he were alive we'd never hear Ken gush about him... but jesus, I'd rather have him back....

he was worried about Kamimura because of his suicidal tendencies, and when it seemed like he wanted to live again, he was just so relieved... the depth with which he said that, I just. wow. I know... I KNOW!!! I KNOW HE WAS GETTING BETTER! I know, Ken...!

Ken was so proud of him. so happy for him, so moved. HE WAS TURNING HIS EYES TOWARDS THE FUTURE!!! he tried to end it so many times because life was an unchanging never-ending hell BUT the instant he felt like he might not be doomed forever after all, that he could have people who love him, that he could find a place for himself in this world once more, he wanted to try again, he wanted TO LIVE.

and then she took him away.

...what the fuck. what the fuck, it's not fair...it's not fair. i can't get fucking over this, i can't, i can't. i can't. fuck. me. fuck...i hate this...

...I've seen a lot of discussion on whether Ken is gonna die this chapter. it's still a little too early to say for sure, but in my opinion, nah. he doesn't seem like he'd be a victim right now. he is a little vulnerable, but frankly in these people's place I would be scared to go at him cause he's tall, strong and has nothing left to lose.

as for whether he'd kill...mmmnnnneehhh.......no...? not in chap 4 at least. he is in a really bad way, and that "she destroyed....everything." was so good, it sounded really dark and wrathful, but, yanno. i'm mostly just side-eyeing the "everything"...

if okazaki was somehow still alive i would def be concerned about him going for her head but lol. that's taken care of already. i guess it's not impossible for him to find another outlet for his anger, COUGH watari COUGH but still, he is more depressed than angry.

he said "there's nothing left." he still has his family but he can't even take them into consideration right now. that's what he truly feels- utter desolation. how could he have the motivation to plan a murder in this state? when he "lost everything"? i'd be much more worried if he continued with his total isolation arc but with this episode, he's not too far gone. just feeling overwhelming malaise. doesn't help that he's off his meds.

then again, we might be going back to unintentional murders, so it's not out of the question. it would just be weird for Ken to try to kill everyone on purpose??

also he won't try to kill himself people 💔 he won't. although.

i was 100% sure he wouldn't before this ep, and now i'm just a little less sure. 🙁

everything is gray now.

the biggest thing i took away from this week's episodes...I really...really don't want anyone else to die...I really don't. none of them. not Ojima. not Hayashi. not Hiroaki. not Wada. not Hasegawa. not Watari. not Tamba. not Yanagi. not Hama. none of them. i really don't want anyone to die anymore.

[callsign-songbird]

Tw: mental health? Description of a wound, breakup, implied alcoholism and ptst. I didn't proofread this, read at your own risk

It's better this way. It had to be. Soap's thumb hovered over your profile, hesitating for a moment before clicking on in. A year. An entire year since he had let you go. John could still remember the tears in your eyes, tears he had caused. He could still remember your smile. The sound of your laugh haunted his waking and sleeping hours. But it was better like this.

A bubble popped up at the bottom asking if he would like to continue talking to this profile, making his lower lip quiver for a moment before he steeled himself and hit continue. You had unfriended him. Not blocked, but unfriended. It stung, but he understood.

He had never been good for you. So gorgeous, so perfect, everything good that the world had to offer compiled into one person, one person who had managed to love a mongrel like him. Despite how often he was deployed, how often his demons pushed him to isolate and take comfort at the bottom of a bottle rather than in your arms. He scrolled for hours, reading back through your conversations that had gone untouched for an entire year. He hadn't let himself open these messages, too afraid to do something stupid and risk hurting you again.

No matter how much his heart ached, how many tears stung his eyes, how full of hollow agony he was he would never risk hurting you. Not again. He wasn't an idiot. Leaving you had been easy at the time, a logical thing. At the time, he had been setting you free, trying not to be selfish. She could never give you everything you gave him. She could never give you the time, the emotional vulnerability, the love that you deserved and showered him abundantly with.

You had been so perfect. Which is why he had to let you go. He had to let you be happy.

So why, an entire year later, did it feel like there was a hole in his life where you had been? Why did his apartment in Glasgow feel so barren without your presence to light it up and bring warmth to the drab space, a presence that had long since faded without a trace to be found.

Memories were all he had left of you, and God how they haunted him. The linen wrapped around his knuckles and shattered mirror in his bathroom were enough to attest to that. But it hadn't been enough. The pain hadn't been enough.

Everyone knew it. The way to distract from pain was with more pain. But it didn't matter how many fights he picked on base, how many serrated blades to shoulder he took, no matter how many times Price chewed him out, it was never enough to come close to distracting him from more than hollow spot in his chest.

Where his heart used to be didn't feel empty anymore. He had long moved past that. It felt like there was a festering wound where his heart should have been. It felt like he was rotting from the inside out. Puss running through his veins, maggots eating through flesh and muscle, bones splintering like rotten wood, mushrooms sprouting in his lungs and from his eyes. All metaphorical, of course, but just as real as the pain of knowing that he could never have you again.

It was better this way. Repeated like a mantra as he threw his phone across the room, listening to the small thing crack against the drywall and bounce on the carpet before leaving him once again in the silence of the room where the only noise was his labored breathing as he slowly spiraled, loosing touch with time yet never seeming to lose touch with reality, with the reality of the life that he had brought upon himself.

It was better this way.

[the--highlanders]

what do you think jamie does after he's sent back to scotland without his memories?

i think he's always been torn between loving his home, the house he grew up in and the river he played in as a child and the hills he knows like the back of his hand, and yet still deeply longing to leave his little world behind, because he never quite fit right. (and he did! he got out!) but then suddenly he's right back there. he goes back to his childhood home but it's not home anymore and he doesn't know why.

so would he stay and try to fit again, even though he's grown out of his place there? or would he leave, and go looking for whatever had changed him?

YESSS I am so 100% on board with everything you said here. jamie really feels to me like he's someone who's so deeply rooted in his place and his culture, and yet someone who's been battling off this sense of isolation his whole life, and it's all tangled up and complicated inside him. in part he knows his home like the back of his hand /because/ he was somewhat isolated and spent a bunch of time wandering around on his own, and connects to his culture so much because he was chasing a sense of belonging. and on the other hand he had friends and was probably well-liked! but the isolation is still there. maybe even worse for the fact that he wasn't entirely alone.

I do think the crucial point to what jamie does when he's back in scotland is. why exactly he stepped on board the tardis in the first place. which is something I still don't feel like I've fully been able to express even after literal years of trying, maybe because it works best as an impulse borne of him having a deeply traumatic turned deeply strange day. I hc that while jamie's father, brother, and best friend have now died, his mother is still alive and at home, along with other relatives and much of the rest of his community. he /has somewhere to go back to/. he chooses not to go to france and to try his luck with making it home instead, and then all of a sudden he's stepping onto the tardis. sure, he's somewhat confused, and certainly doesn't know what's happening or that he won't be able to get back - but he does still go with them. in that moment, some part of him wanted /out/. going with people he knew to france didn't tempt him, but running off with basically total strangers did. he wanted an entirely fresh start, a blank slate.

on the flip side, the jamie who gets sent back after the war games is /different/, even subconsciously. somewhere buried in there is a person who's more mature, has had three more years of experience, has dealt with so much more and stepped up in ways he probably couldn't have dreamt of when he first left scotland. he's dropped back on drumossie moor, apparently in daylight, presumably with something implanted in his head telling him that the doctor and ben and polly left, he waved them off and turned towards home. so I think that's what he'd do - he'd go home, and try to pick up the pieces as best he could.

at this point, and as he realises more and more that something's /not right/ and he's missing something, I think his sense of isolation is worse than ever. he's so, so close to snapping. but his whole world is holding on by a thread, now - his own family has been decimated, many others are in the same position, they're close enough to culloden and inverness to be subject to a few reprisals and raids from the government - and oddly enough I think that holds him together. he steps up, because somewhere deep inside he knows how to do that now. he's grown up. maybe everyone else just puts it down to the war. it's not like they know any better. and if we know anything about jamie, it's that he can hold himself together if someone else needs him. is it good for him? certainly not. but he's hanging in there.

in my timeline for things he does settle down somewhat once he starts to regain his memories and understand what's happened to him. it /is/ just another thing that sets him apart, and that always hurts, but he's also more confident and understands more about himself than he did growing up, so it rattles him less. he's probably easy to talk to and go to with problems, and friendly enough that you never really realise he doesn't open up about himself. he grows into a bit of a leadership position in his village, and it's good for him, in a way. he's also his own person, not his father's son, and I think that's a sick sort of relief for him. marrying kirsty also helps, because she's a fellow misfit and a great friend, and someone who he can share the truth with. their 'more children than there are days of the week' are lost and orphaned kids they collect, because he's not going to let anyone else grow up alone. it's a weird sort of limbo where he's waiting for the doctor but also has no certainty that he'll ever see him again, where he's made a life he's proud of with people he loves and yet there's always parts of him that are desperately unhappy - but he's getting by. he's good. he's got good things that get him through.

if he /didn't/ get his memories back, though, if he was just caught in that confusion forever... that's where I could really see him leaving. at some point he /does/ snap, and he just. heads off on his own, looking for something he can't remember. it feels good, to always be on the road, maybe to help people where he can as he passes through. he's not tied to anyone, doesn't have to be who anyone else wants him to be, and there's freedom in that. but he always feels like he /shouldn't/ be alone in this, that he should be wandering with someone.

[innocentcurse]

Dorothy appreciated Copper's words. She had a lot of comforting presences in her life, fortunate enough to have a loving partner, and a close family, even if they had their flaws like most others; despite this, Dorothy had left so much unspoken - more than she could even process and understand herself - and so to have Copper speak words that almost perfectly consoled her in the case of some of those unspoken struggles meant a lot to her. As much as they meant to her, however, Dorothy felt as though there was no adequate reply. She had a feeling that Copper would understand.

"I've been here my whole entire life, Cardinal born and raised, and it's never been like this," she explained as Copper confirmed her suspicion: that he hadn't been in town for an overly long time. "I mean, I was away for college, but even still, I visited home, you know? And it's just... Nothing in town has ever felt like this before, it feels so..." Dorothy was almost beginning to grow frustrated at herself as she struggled to find the right words. "It feels twisted, dark."

Dorothy had thought that she was losing her mind, too. It was no secret that her life hadn't been without struggle, and so it wasn't the most far-fetched theory for someone like her to have. Particularly as someone who battled with secrets, Dorothy had honestly been afraid that it might have all built up until she cracked. "What are the odds that the only two people it's happening to have met to speak about it?" She questioned, backing Copper's theory that it had to be happening to more people out there. "It doesn't make sense for it to be a coincidence, but it also doesn't make sense for it to be this isolated. Surely it's happening to all of the witches, if not a lot of us..." she almost trailed off in though. This wasn't happening to the humans too, was it? Suddenly an even stronger fear rose up inside of her. Was Elias safe?

"I'm sorry," Dorothy had to laugh, too. If she didn't laugh, she would only keep on crying, and the last thing she wanted to happen was for word to get around that Dorothy Prior was crying her eyes out in the middle of town. "I didn't mean to scare you, it only made sense," she wasn't going to backtrack and take back what she had said, though she did admittedly feel a little bad about suggesting it. "It would, but not an impossible amount of power," her heart picked up speed as she continued to think about it, discuss it.

"But why?" Was all Dorothy could ask. "I don't understand, what have we done?" Evil existed in the world, and after studying forensic science, Dorothy knew that it wasn't impossible for someone to act violently without motive, but even so, it hardly made sense. You could almost always give reason to heinous acts, even if only barely, and Dorothy couldn't think of any good reason for the whole of the town to suffer. It wasn't like everyone had secrets like her own... "It doesn't make sense. How can you stop something that you can't even understand?" She dabbed her teary eyes with the napkin again.

Copper felt like he was getting through to Dorothy, like the two of them could really empathize, and this conversation had gotten much heavier than Copper had expected it to be. But it felt like it was a conversation both of them really needed to have. "I think we're allowed to mourn people we didn't really know, Dorothy," Copper said. "I think we're allowed to be sad about the dark things in the world, even if they don't really effect us, but what we're really sad about is that feeling of powerlessness, about not being able to stop the bad things. And I think it means you have a good heart to be sad about people who are suffering - that's what compassion is, you know?"

Nodding, Copper agreed emphatically, "Me too! I've...uh, since coming here, I've felt a little like I'm unraveling, especially since the night of that storm. "Things are just...they're really hard right now." He felt emotion well up inside him again, but Copper kept the dams from breaking. "So I thought that was what was happening to me too," Copper went on. "I...sort of thought I was losing my mind." But he wasn't, Copper knew that now. He thought about what Dorothy said, what she asked him, and he paused, biting his lip. "Are you sure that it's just the two of us? Somehow I don't think that it was. In fact...it wouldn't surprise me if it had happened to every witch." He was going to ask his brother and friends like Cece and Corey and the others he'd made in town, but he didn't want to just bring it up bluntly, not wanting to worry them. But he supposed if the same thing had happened to them, then they were already worried.

Even though he had been the first the address it, hearing Dorothy's suggestion that the dreams had been planted sent chills down Copper's spine. "Well that's terrifying," he said with a laugh, but there was no humor in it. Copper felt overwhelmed with the implications of it. "It would take a lot of power to do that," Copper remarked, and when he saw the tears on Dorothy's cheek, he handed her a napkin but didn't acknowledge them. "Mine did too," Copper replied. "It felt...it felt like an attack," and as he said this, he realized that that was exactly what it was: an attack. And once he knew that Dorothy had heard words during the windstorm, Copper knew that this was all connected. "Someone is doing this," he said, smacking his hand on the table in a eureka moment, albeit one Copper wasn't too happy about. "Someone is terrorizing the people of Cardinal Hill, or at least some of us," Copper went on. "At least you and me, though I bet others too." He had been a little surprised that Dorothy had shared the words she'd heard, and Copper felt like it was only fair to share his. "'I know where you are,' is what I heard," Copper revealed. "And it was so clear, so direct, like someone was speaking directly into my ear. And somehow I know those aren't just words; somehow I know they're real."