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cheollipop · 2 years ago

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chicken noodle soup

navi | taglist | pt.2

pairing: choi san x gn!reader

w.c.: 2.0k

tags: sick fic, fluff, so much fluff, I warned you

After a whole day without a peep from your boyfriend – someone who couldn't go an hour without talking to you – you make your way to his apartment. Panicked, you walk in, only to find him battling with a cold, hair greasy and dishevelled. Tucking him into bed, you make him soup and nurse him back to health with as many kisses and cuddles needed to see those dimples breaching the soft skin of his cheeks.

A/N: when I finished writing this, I definitely did not scream into a pillow while kicking my feet. and I absolutely was NOT smiling and giggling the whole time I was proofreading it either.

Your keys rattled and chimed in the empty hallway as you unlocked the door with the spare key your boyfriend had given you. You weren’t sure what to expect exactly – was he kidnapped, did someone break in and hurt him? He was a strong man, fully capable of protecting himself, but what if he had been ambushed? You battled these thoughts and begged them out of your mind as you stepped into your boyfriend’s apartment. No blood on the floor. You almost sigh in relief. But also no San in sight.

He often reminded you of a puppy on crack, unable to contain all the energy and excitement rushing through his system. He couldn’t go an hour without texting you – asking about what you were doing, sending you random selfies with his face smushed against the camera, spamming you with pictures of a cat he saw on the street, using anything and everything as an excuse to talk to you. So him going missing for a whole day? It’s definitely a reason to panic.

A door opened to your right – the bathroom. It’s too late to hide. The intruder will take you just like he took San.

A mop of greasy hair peeked out of the doorway; eyes wide as they took in your presence. You finally let out that sigh. San. You moved forward to wrap your arms around him, but he stepped back.

“I’d keep your distance babe, I’m pretty gross.” His voice was hoarse, eyebrows furrowing as he swallowed around his dry throat. You took in his appearance, hair sticking up, left, right, anywhere but down, his eyes bloodshot and teary, nose sniffling. You’d think he was crying if it weren’t for the painful bob of his adam’s apple as he tried to swallow around his inflamed throat.

“Are you sick? San, why didn’t you call me?” You covered his forehead with your palm, heat searing through your skin upon contact.

He sniffed. “It’s just a cold. I didn’t want you to worry.” You almost leaned in and kissed the pout off his lips, but you managed to stop yourself.

“Oh, Sannie.” You noticed the sway of his limbs as he used up the last of his energy to remain upright, taking one of his hands and moving towards his bedroom. “Let’s get you into bed.”

You moved the ladle around in the pot, watching the different veggies swim in the simmering broth, overlapping with the noodles and chicken. Your mind was elsewhere, stuck worrying about the man you tucked into bed two hours ago; still sleeping soundly, even with a stuffy nose. You felt silly fretting over a simple cold, but seeing San drained of all the energy he loved sharing with everyone around him was not something you were used to. You heard him cough a few times as you poured the soup into his favourite bowl – Shiba Inu’s decorating the glossy exterior. Placing it on a tray, you peeked your head through his bedroom door, checking on the slumbering man inside.

“Hello,” his gravelly voice greets you.

“Good morning, princess,” you smile, placing the tray on his nightstand, switching on the lamp. The light was bright enough for you not to trip over his mess and die, but dim enough not to hurt his sensitive eyes.

You helped him sit up against his headboard, his head tilted sideways to watch as you pull his gaming chair away from his desk, using it to sit by his bed.

“Have you always been this pretty, or is it the cold doing something to my vision?”

Your cheeks flushed, and your hands fumbled to grab the spoon set next to the bowl, the tray resting evenly over your thighs. The liquid rippled at your movement and San’s lips quirked upwards, dimples dipping into the skin of his cheeks. You scooped some soup into the spoon, blowing softly at the steaming liquid before bringing it to San’s mouth, hand cupped under his chin. He let out a prolonged moan as he swallowed, closing his eyes and shaking his head slowly in delight – an exaggeration. He stopped as his headache panged harder against his temple, pressing his fingers against it, eyes scrunched shut.

“Idiot,” you said. A cute idiot, your brain added.

His hand clutched his chest, eyes opening to peer at you. “Is this how you treat a sick man, (Y/n)? I’m hurt.”

“You have a cold. You’re not dying.” You poked his cheek, where his dimple would usually be.

You resisted the urge to kiss his pouty lips yet again, your fingers twitching around the spoon you were holding idly. This task was becoming more and more difficult by the second. You settled on pinching his cheek, fingers slipping to stroke against his jawline. You shared the comfortable silence, gazing into his droopy eyes, tracing lines down his jaw, and circles on the high of his cheek.

Then he sneezed. Everywhere. And again, the second one ripping through his chest in a way that must have hurt.

He babbled apologies as you grabbed the tissue box by his bedside. “Baby, blow your nose.” You stifled a laugh as you watch him do as you said, wiping your own hands with wet wipes you pulled out of his nightstand drawer. You pull another wipe out, reaching over to San’s sulky face, running it over his skin. The wrinkles between his eyebrows smoothed, savouring the cool touch of the wipe across his heated skin. You couldn’t help yourself, leaning in and planting a soft peck against his forehead, and his cheek, then his other one.

“Babe, stop,” he complained, half-heartedly trying to push you away, yet the smile splitting his face betrayed him.

“Stop what?” you pressed your lips to the corner of his, straying down to his chin, his jaw, then back up to his nose, eyelids. Then you started over, back at his forehead.

How could he pretend not to enjoy the softness of your lips against his skin? All he wanted was to pin you down and smother you with his love, and yet he couldn’t get you sick. Even though you got all whiny and needy, clinging onto him and nuzzling into his chest, claiming he was warmer than all your blankets combined. He did contemplate it, for a few seconds maybe, but ultimately decided against it. And yet, he would never deny the love you gave him.

“You know, I heard mouth-to-mouth helps get rid of colds reaaal quick.” The corners of his mouth tilted upwards, staring up at you through hooded eyes, drunk on kisses.

“Oh, really?” You couldn’t help but smile, endeared by this sudden change in attitude. He leaned closer to your face, lips puckering.

You shoved a spoonful of soup in his mouth, laughing as his eyes went wide, trying his best to swallow the liquid without choking.

“Ya! What was that for?”

“Keep your cold to yourself, Choi San,” you narrowed your eyes at him, eventually giving in and letting the smile you’d been hiding back stretch your mouth. You swear he will be the reason you’d get premature wrinkles in your smile line.

You fed him the rest of the warm liquid in silence. San’s head rested against the wooden headboard, eyes trained on you, not even looking at the spoon as you pushed it towards him. He trusted you wouldn’t let it spill on him. Besides, your face was too distracting – the way the tip of your tongue breached the corner of your lips in concentration, how your eyebrows furrowed and you’d mutter his name o’ so softly whenever San would get too absorbed in watching you to open his mouth, when your eyes lit up after he swallowed the last of the soup you had made for him. Everything about you was distracting, from the way your fingers softly worked to clean his mouth with a napkin, to the smile stretching your face, the corners of your eyes crinkling.

“You’re so beautiful,” he blurted out.

You were taken aback, eyebrows raising in surprise at the sudden statement. Blood rushed to your cheeks, and the butterflies battled within your stomach.

“Is this the cold speaking?”

“No. It’s me,” his face remained neutral, eyes focused on you. “You’re the most beautiful person I have ever had the honour of laying my eyes on, inside and out. You always will be; I don’t think a person more beautiful than you will ever exist.”

Your lips parted, then closed, then opened again. You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? That whenever you were with him, he flooded your senses with joy, happiness, comfort? That his face alone could light up your whole world, and you felt like you could weather any storm so long as he remained by your side? And when he spoke so softly to you, throwing the sweetest phrases at you like it were nothing, you felt like you were being ripped apart from the inside by the voilent fluttering of butterflies in your stomach?

Love is you, was all you could think in that moment.

Before you could think of a response, a shiver ran through his body, his limbs shaking with the force of it. You stood up, tray in your hands. “I’ll grab some more blankets for you.” He took a hold of your wrist before you could move to the door.

“Don’t go. I’m okay.”

You hesitate.

“Just cuddle with me.”

You finally realized the power Choi San held over you as you carded your fingers through his matted locks. His face nuzzled against your collarbone, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Limbs tangled up under the thick comforter, you eased yourself down onto the pillow under your head, fingers scratching against San’s scalp. He hummed, soft puffs of air warming your skin. You felt him plant soft kisses along your neck, smiling against the column of your throat.

“Are you feeling better, Sannie?”

“Mm, my head still feels funny.”

You smiled, placing a kiss against the crown of his head, resting your lips there for a couple seconds before pulling back.

“Much better,” he purred, planting a peck of his own onto the nearest patch of skin to his lips.

You giggled, fingers continuing their ministrations against his scalp. The both of you laid there, bodies a tangled mess, breathing the same air, empty bowl of soup forgotten on the nightstand.

Soon, San’s grip around your waist would ease, his breathing growing even, body slumping against yours. You would lay there, marveling in the soft snores vibrating through the quiet room. He would deny this with his very being the next morning, but you’ll play along, keeping the voice notes you secretly recorded to yourself – perhaps sharing them with Wooyoung later on. Because just as adorable San was when he was sulky, you couldn’t help but try to keep him smiling. You would do anything to keep those dimples on show, every second of every day, for as long as he would allow you to remain by his side.

Soon, you’d sense your own drowsiness tugging at your eyelids until they fell shut. Your fingers would gradually cease their movements, stilling against his head, trapped between the soft strands. You’d nestle your face against San’s, unbothered by the germs that would soon sneak their way into your system. He’d take care of you if you ended up catching his cold, you were sure of it. Because just as much of an idiot San was, he never failed to make you feel safe, cared for, loved.

You surrendered yourself to the grip of sleep, San’s warm skin sending bolts of heat coursing through your body. Slipping into a comfortable slumber, your dreams – as usual – revolved around the man you were so helplessly infatuated with.

pt.2

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midwestmade29 · 1 year ago

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Cowboy Take Me Away 🧡

I'm bringing you guys some sweet heat with this story! A little fluffy smut if you will 😏 Hangman had me all in my feels after Dynamite on Wednesday. (Let's be honest, he has me in my feels even when he's not on live TV) I was team no sleep writing this...there was no way I could stop until I finished the entire thing.

This is Hangman's world and we just live in it 😉

Word Count: 2.6k Divider by: Me 🙂

If you are not 18+ years old, please KEEP SCROLLING. Minors do not interact.

This story is NSFW or minors.

Disclaimers: Nightmare/bad dream, thunderstorm, mentions of blood, mentions of being injured/pain, unprotected sex. Read at your own discretion.

Your cowboy helps comfort you after the bad dream you just had...

You found yourself in a moment in time that you wish you could forget. Somehow you were ringside watching your cowboy maneuver his way around the squared circle. He wasn’t alone inside the ring; his opponent was nothing more than a dark shadow countering every move Adam threw at them with ease. The shadow quickly struck him down, laughing in his face while Adam writhed in pain.

When he was able to get to his feet, the shadow punched him right in the stomach knocking all the wind out of him. The shadow’s attacks grew stronger and more powerful, leaving your beautiful cowboy a bloody mess in the center of the ring. Despite not being able to defend himself, the dark shadow never let up! He continuously kicked Adam until there was no air left in his lungs. Your heart was hammering against your chest listening to him cry out!

You tried to stand but it felt as if there was an invisible rope tied around you, holding you in place. You tried everything you could to try and get to your cowboy! Suddenly there was a bright flash, its essence distracting you. Where was it coming from? Could production be having issues? Surely no one was taking pictures of this horrendous moment! You turned your head, eyes searching all around for the light’s source when a rumble echoed through the arena. You blinked and somehow you were outside, lost in a sea of people. You pushed your way through the crowd, eventually finding an opening. Your eyes landed on Doc Sampson pushing a stretcher towards a dark tunnel. At first you couldn’t make out who was lying on the stretcher until you noticed the familiar, crimson-stained curls and cowboy boots on the person’s feet. It was your cowboy!

You called out to him, “Adam? Adam! Please, wait! Don’t go, I need you!” There was another bright flash followed by a louder boom than the first one. Everyone around you started to run in a panic, pushing you farther and farther away from Adam. No matter how much you begged and pleaded, the swarm of people rushing by only ignored you. Your voice fell upon deaf ears the more you cried out for your Adam.

It was as if he was slipping right through your fingers, leaving you behind. A final bright flash appeared, this time shining brighter than the previous ones. It blinded you, forcing you to recoil at the intense lumens it immitted. Your bones felt like they were rattling under your skin as the ground beneath you quaked when a vicious rumble rolled through, ultimately bringing you out of your deep slumber…

You jolted up in bed, your breathing accelerated, and your body covered in sweat from your dream. The room was dark except for a few flashes of lightning that shined through your opened bedroom windows. Adam was sleeping peacefully next to you, blissfully unaware of the storm that was rolling in. Every window in the house was open, but they needed to be closed as soon as possible in case of a downpour.

“Baby, wake up,” you whispered against the shell of his ear.

You gently shook him, earning a groan from your sleepy cowboy. You planted your feet on the floor and headed towards the bedroom door, calling back to Adam.

“There’s a storm rolling in and all the windows are open. If you can close the ones on this side of the house, I’ll take care of the rest.”

By the time you were done, it had started sprinkling outside. The sound of rain usually calmed you, but you were still on edge after your dream. You stopped in the kitchen for a drink of water before making your way back to your bedroom. Adam was sitting up leaning against the headboard looking at his phone, his voice making you jump when it interrupted the quiet.

“There’s a lot of red on the radar right now. Might get a good storm or two here soon if it doesn’t break up before getting to us. If there’s any warnings that come about, the weather radio should go off and I’ll turn the volume up on my phone too just in case.”

You thanked him for letting you know as you walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. Your hands rested on each side of the sink and your head was bowed as you tried to shake yourself out of the funk you were in. Images from your dream flashed through your mind causing you to shiver when you remembered Adam lying motionless in the middle of the ring battered and bruised.

You splashed cold water on your face hoping it would somehow help rid yourself of the sound of your cowboy crying out in pain that played on repeat in your ears. You inhaled and slowly released a deep breath after drying your face and making your way back to bed.

Adam had turned on the lamp on his nightstand and as soon as the light reached your face, you knew you had been caught.

“Hey, what’s wrong sweetheart? Are you alright?” He asked tenderly.

You tried your best to keep your composure, but your voiced faltered when you lied through your teeth telling him that you were fine. Adam knew you better than you knew yourself, instantly seeing right through you.

He held his hand out to you, encouraging you to come over to him. You placed your hand in his and he gently tugged, signaling he wanted you to sit on his lap. Your leg swung over his thigh, allowing you to straddle him but you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in his beautiful eyes.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did something happen? Talk to me sweetheart,” he softly pleaded.

With his finger under your chin, he lifted your face until your eyes were level with his, and you immediately got lost in them. You leaned into his palm after he gently placed it on your cheek, willing yourself to dig deep and find the courage to tell him about your dream.

“If you’re worried about the storm, I think we’ll be okay. The animals in the barn will be fine too. If you want me to check on them-”

You shaking your head “no” made him stop midsentence. “Then what is it? Tell me,” He begged as worry covered his handsome features.

“I-I had a terrible dream. It was awful Adam!” your voiced cracked when you spoke his name.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay, it was just a dream. I’m right here baby, everything’s okay! You’re safe and your dream is all over,” his hands cupped your face as he reassured you.

“It felt so real though! You were wrestling against some shadow figure that left you lying in the middle of the ring in a pool of your own blood. I tried to get to you and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t! Doc Sampson wheeled you away on a stretcher and I called out to you, but you didn’t hear me. It was like you slipped right through my fingers! The thunder ended up waking me,” you explained, which only left you feeling exasperated.

Adam pulled you closer to him, his strong arms wrapping themselves around your body and holding you tightly. His large hand rested on the back of your head, holding it in place as he nuzzled his face into your neck.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. That sounds awful! You have to know that would never happen though. Shadow figure or not, you know I’d kick its ass long before it even had a chance to lay a finger on me,” his joke caused you to chuckle as you pulled your head back and looked at his face once more.

“That’s more like it!” he praised, his smile causing you to smile bigger.

“Thanks baby, I needed that. I know it wasn’t real, but it was the type of dream that lingers even after you’re awake. It just kind of shook me to my core seeing you like that and not being able to do anything about it. Sure, I’ve seen you in countless Texas Death Matches and I’ve cared for you after all of them. Just something about my dream almost felt worse, you know?” Your fingertips traced along one of Adam’s larger scars he had on his chest as your mind started drifting again.

He grabbed your hand softly, stopping it in its tracks before bringing your fingertips to his lips. He began kissing each pad as you watched, “Adam…” fell from your lips involuntarily when he peppered tender kisses on the inside of your wrist. The more skin his lips touched rekindled the embers deep inside of you that always burned for him.

Your eyes watched as his mouth left a small trail of wetness in its wake, sending a shiver down your spine when your dampened skin was met with the coolness of the night air. You sighed slightly when his lips pulled away, your eyes instantly darting to his plump lips letting him know exactly where your mind was at now.

“Do you want to talk about it more, sweetheart?” Adam murmured just mere inches away from your face.

You shook your head no, but he wasn’t satisfied with that response. “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me what I can do to make you feel better,”

He brushed his nose ever so slightly up against yours, making you forget how to form words for a few seconds. He waited patiently for your answer, sighing with relief when you finally spoke.

“No, Adam. No more talking. Please, make me forget about what happened. Set me free from the thoughts that cloud my mind…”

Your hands snaked around to the back of Adam’s neck as the two of you looked deeply in each other’s eyes. The sexual tension was thick in the air, almost crackling with electricity. Adam closed the gap between you, his kiss laced with passion and full of want and need. You could see the flash of lightning through your closed eyes and jumped when the sound of the thunder roared.

“It’s alright sweetheart, I’ve got you.” Adam reassured you.

His length hardened underneath you as your hips rocked against it the more he kissed you. The roughness of his calloused hands on your delicate skin made you shiver when they slid underneath your nightgown. He effortlessly removed it, leaving your top half completely bare. Adam was only wearing his pajama bottoms and underwear, which still felt like too much clothing!

Your fingers slid under the waistband of his pants making little goosebumps appear all over him. He stopped your hand once again and purred into your ear.

“Not yet, angel. I want to take care of you right now,”

In one swift move, he scooped you in his arm and laid you down on the mattress. His body weight pressed you into the bed as he massaged your breasts with his hands. Your breathing accelerated when he whispered against your collarbone.

“You’re so God damn beautiful. My own little slice of Heaven,”

Adam started kissing a trail down your body, covering every square inch of skin he could with his tongue and lips. He whispered sweet nothings against it, the hum of his voice sending soundwaves right to your throbbing clit.

Every touch, every caress was intentional, perfectly placed on your body as your sweet cowboy descended in between your legs. With a smile on his face, he hooked his fingers under the lace of your panties and slid them down your legs until you were able to kick them off.

He spread your legs wide, opening you up fully to him before diving in and devouring your sweetness. Adam peered up at you as his tongue swirled and flicked against your little bundle of nerves, causing you to cry out his name, “Adam! Yes! Th-that feels s-so good!”

He knew you were on the brink of orgasming, quickly grabbing hold of your legs, pulling you even closer to his face. He was completely consumed by your sweetness, humming against it completely enchanted with the feeling of you unraveling on his tongue.

Your release ripped through you as you came, you swore you saw stars! With your legs still shaking, Adam kissed your inner thigh and stood up revealing his throbbing cock straining against his pajamas. You laid there trying to steady yourself as you watched his every move.

The rain outside had really started to come down, thunder could still be heard off in the distance. Lightning flashed, brightening the room, giving you the perfect view of your cowboy at the foot of the bed stroking his hard cock. Pre cum glistened on his tip, making his arousal even more evident. Adam crawled back on to the bed and positioned himself in between your legs again, the tip of his cock resting at your entrance.

His breathing was unsteady as he spoke quietly into the night.

“You are my dream come true Y/N. My world begins and ends with you. No matter how many dark shadows I have to fight off, I will always be by your side,”

The wind started to pick up outside, rustling the trees and blowing through your bedroom windows, making the sheer curtains adorning them drift in the air as if they were feathers. A clap of thunder immediately followed a stand of crackle lightning that shot off in multiple directions, causing your house to lose power. Now it was nothing but you, your cowboy, and the rainstorm.

Adam eased his way inside you, taking his time sliding in and out as your walls adjusted to his size.

“You’re so tight, angel. Y-you feel incredible,” he stammered as he was getting completely consumed by bliss.

The smell of the freshly fallen rain danced around the room and the sounds of your moans filled the quiet in between the rumbles of thunder. Each time the lightening gave Adam a glimpse of your face, he let you know just how beautiful you are.

“I love the way you look at me as I glide in and out of you. You’re the m-most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…”

Adam made slow, sweet love to you, savoring every moment. His blonde curls tickled your face when they fell around it every time he leaned down to kiss you. He continued his slow but meaningful thrusts leaving both of you panting and voices raspy.

Adam was nurturing your mind, body, and soul this way, making your bad dream nothing but a distant memory now. His length filled you to the hilt, hitting every spot inside you, leading the way for your body to find its release. You couldn’t help but cry out his name when you finally succumbed to him.

“Adam, ohhh my God…Adam!”

“I’m right there with you angel,” he moaned.

As you fell apart all over his cock, your juices intertwined with his as he orgasmed with you. Your bodies quaked and trembled against one another, the pleasure shooting through your veins like hot molten lava. Every nerve in your body came alive, pure ecstasy radiating from you as each new wave of pleasure crashed against you.

“S-so beautiful…” was all Adam could manage to say. He brushed the hair off your forehead that found itself stuck there due to the sweat that blanketed your entire body.

The storm outside calmed, just like the one that had gone through your mind earlier. Sleep overtook both of you as you fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Your cowboy was your calm before and after every storm, always walking beside you and being your guiding light, leaving all shadows in the dark where they belong.

🧡

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incaensio · 1 year ago

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as the second day starts, nerves are simmering between the three mentors from district twelve. they barely get a wink, and maybe it's because of exhaustion that delusion creeps in as something akin to hope — they've both made it out of day one, and chandler has even managed to collect some leftovers from the careers camp at some point during the evening, so the thought that maybe, maybe there's a chance for them begins to rise in katniss' mind. it can only continue if they send them food and water, she tries to argue, feeling her own throat dry as if she was back in her own first day in the woods, but peeta is adamant, thinking of later, and haymitch seems to have no interest in picking sides. before a nasty argument can break out, or either settle, the developments on screen decide for them, and the male tribute from two finishes chandler's ordeal. it's a horrifying wake up call, seeing the hovercraft take his corpse back home, hazelle scrambling around by herself, now without the boy who had sort of saved her since the gong rang.

katniss is disturbed to realize that as much as her heart pains for mrs hawthorne, it is not the screen she fixates upon after that, but peeta. he is upset, even if he does not say it with such words, and he refuses her attention in a way that only makes it worse. she spends the rest of the day walking on eggshells, glancing more at him than at the screen, and by the time haymitch all but pushed them to go to try and get some rest (effie says that if she's with him, he will feel all better, just be together and look after him, darling), it doesn't seem he's any better. she doesn't know what to do. it is not for effie or even hazelle that she's so worried, but he doesn't want her to fuss over him, so she tries not to. tries to look at the ceiling, close her eyes, turn on her side so he can have the least amount of privacy that this arrangement allows him. finally, he dozes off — and she relaxes for a moment, turning to face his slumbering figure with attention: the curls of his head, his fair, long lashes, the pointiness of his nose, the thin line of his lips.

she doesn't know when she falls asleep, but it hasn't been long because her sleep is fainter than ever these days and a choked sound from her side makes her snap her eyes open, blinking herself awake as she looks at her husband. "peeta?" his eyes are open, too, but they're not on her. he hasn't moved, reached over to pull her close as he often does, and it's alarming. she blinks a few more times, trying to look at the direction he's staring at, but there's nothing there, and as much as she keeps calling for him, he doesn't respond, nor does he move. panic rises fast in her chest, but she tries to remain calm and check his breathing and his heartbeat, feeling the rapid drumming of his heart to be unusual. she doesn't know what to do. shifting in bed, she brings a hand to cup at his cheek, turning his face from whatever disturbed him for her; naturally, she is tempted to kiss him awake, much as she had kissed him to sleep in the cave, but he doesn't want her kisses anymore and she can not bring herself to force it upon him.

"peeta, i'm here," she tries to comfort him, but it feels hollow and she can feel her panic reflected on his eyes, as his on hers. she thinks of young primrose's bad dreams, jolting awake and only resting against her again once she had sung the lullaby, the same way her father had done to katniss when she had nightmares that feel so silly now that she knows the real ones. the one peeta is trapped in, without her. but she can not bring herself to sing the lullaby — that's rue's now, and it hadn’t been able to wake her so she’s dead, and peeta is alive, has to stay alive — so she begins humming and muttering the first song that comes to mind, thumb caressing his cheek and her free hand upon his heart, begging to feel a shift in the disturbing rhythm. "there's a dark and a troubled side of life, but there's a bright and a sunny side too." it's a happy song. wake up, peeta. stay with me. "though you meet with darkness and strife, the sunny side we also may view."

Setting: Tribute center, floor twelve (penthouse suite), Katniss and Peeta's bedroom, night two of the Games - @incaensio

It's the same dream.

Peeta is running through the woods stumbling over branches. Peeta! It's his name, shrieked in Katniss' voice, just like he remembers it after the announcement during the 74th games. He's coming... he'll get to her. Peeta!

He falls to the ground after tripping on a branch and there's an uncharacteristic amount of blood for such a small thing. He tries to get up - Peeta! - but he cries out in pain, falling to the side as he stands. Horrifyingly, he looks down and... his leg is gone. There is nothing to it but a bloody stump, the rest of it blasted away somewhere.

No - not blasted... Peeta! He hears his name again, but it's no longer in her voice. It's a growl and he turns to the side to see a mutt. The dog-like one from his Games, but transformed. It's not just the eyes that belong to Cato, but the voice too. The mutt is speaking to him, calling his name in his old ally's voice. Peeta! It's Cato. Peeta! Isla. Then Glimmer and Clove.

Finally, the eyes shift and he sees Chandler's gaze staring back. His soft voice speaking out Peeta's name, over and over again. Peeta, Peeta, Peeta.

Peeta gasps awake.

He blinks rapidly, trying to get his bearings. He's in the Tribute Center, up in his room, and he can feel Katniss next to him. Like always after his nightmares, he can't move. He can't speak or scream out for help. And he knows he'll see the last thing he did before waking, can sense it in the room with them.

As soon as he thinks it, it's there. The Chandler-mutt. Right on the bed with them, sitting at the edge. He can almost feel the weight on his good leg and his heart beats wildly. It's not real, he tells himself, but can't tear his eyes away from the beast that is ready to tear him up once more. He'd gotten Chandler killed, after all. Turned him into this.

How many deaths can someone bring before they deserve it, too?

#— 𝐾. 𝐸. : written.#eventideevent03 #ptsd tw #hallucination tw #gore tw #night terrors tw #sleep paralysis tw

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meirathinks · 3 years ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐥

Part VII. gone, gone, gone!

suguru geto x reader (fake marriage au)

Suguru’s gone. Right?

warnings: naobito is a fundamentally bad dad, Satoru being a womanizer, unsafe driving practices. I beg you guys, do not drive like Sukuna and Haibara. Please😭 Everyone in this story needs to learn that emotional intimacy is okay tbh.

Thank you all for sticking by me! This is the last chapter and I am so, so, so, grateful to everyone who has read it. As always, stay safe!!

Series Masterlist | Part VI.

Suguru imagined that tonight he’ll sigh a breath of relief as he lay in his bedroom while wallowing in the cruelty of his New York penthouse for the final time— before he takes the flight to his hometown.

He’ll feel himself sink into the pillows, and relish the distinct familiarity, the comfort. And— while he closes his eyes, and finally falls into the slumber that awaits him, he’ll imagine flies buzzing around his head.

Because, to be without a job, in Suguru’s opinion, was to be dead.

In spirit, Suguru was already dead.

(What would Suguru be without work?)

(Certainly not a leader.)

It proves difficult to look as unbothered as possible— especially when sitting in the passenger seat of a vehicle Sukuna is driving.

The pink-haired man drives over an unidentified object, in turn, Suguru (who refused to wear his seatbelt out of spite) feels himself lift off from the seat and his head collide with the roof of the car.

Sukuna chuckles as Suguru rubs his head, “My bad.”

(Sukuna does not feel bad.)

Suguru hums— it comes out as a groan. Sukuna changes the subject, “Why do you look so miserable, just get a new job.”

“It’s not that easy you know.”

Sukuna turns to Suguru, disregarding the fact that both of their lives rely on Sukuna’s ability to see the road, “No— I don’t think it’s the job that’s got you like that.”

Suguru reaches up for the grab handle— his eyes darting from Sukuna to the street. Sukuna grins, still looking at Suguru.

Suguru laughs nervously, gripping the novel that sat in his lap, with his other hand. “Eyes on the road—” They run over a pothole, Suguru jolts up for the second time that day, “—Please.”

Sukuna pouts doing his best to imitate a lost puppy, “Aww, I think I’ve figured it out— is the pretty boy sad that he left his defenceless assistant behind?”

Geto’s eyes sharpen with a scoff, Sukuna continues— he’s adamant about not looking at the road. “You’re pathetic, you know that?”

Suguru clenches his jaw, while Sukuna speaks between laughs, “I can respect blackmail— but wow, I never thought that you of all people to feel bad about it.”

Much to Suguru’s dismay Sukuna refuses to stop— his words ring throughout the car, more similar to a conversation with himself than one between two people, “It’s funny, it really is— you and your weird, fucked up, pseudo-relationship.”

Several beats pass, The pink-haired man glances quickly at the road before stepping on the gas for the second time. The car goes infinitely faster.

(Suguru is convinced that he is going to die before he gets to the airport.)

Suguru swallows nervously while Sukuna raises his voice to speak— a wide smile on his face, “It’s not like it was real—” Suguru’s brows furrow at this, Sukuna turns his head to see Suguru’s face.

His hair was neatly tied back— no flyaways as usual. Back in his usual business casual attire, he knows exactly what he should be feeling

There is an apparition that should be haunting Suguru. It should be pleasurable, comforting, relaxing. It should nestle in between the tendons of his fingers and refuse to leave him— a permanent, tranquillizing power.

He leans back into the headrest of Sukuna’s car; closing his eyes, ignoring the fact that Sukuna is berating him, and that he’s driving at twice the legal speed.

Yes— Suguru knows exactly what he should be feeling; relief.

(But it’s become apparent with the slow, sickly beat of his heart in his temples that, relief is far from what he’s feeling.)

(Still— he’s adamant.)

(I did the right thing.)

Sukuna is, regrettably, still talking, he leans in and scoffs, “Jesus Christ— it's all over your face— you’re practically in love.”

Suguru turns to Sukuna— locking eyes with him (which is significantly more concerning when considering the fact that Sukuna is speeding through a school zone.)

It’s Suguru’s turn to scoff, “I’m sorry— what do you know about love?”

Sukuna’s eyebrows raise with his retort. “Jack shit,” Sukuna foot slams on the brake, stopping before he passes a stop sign, refusing to take his eyes off of Suguru, relishing the way he was launched forward towards the windshield.

Suguru swears quietly as he settles back into his seat while Sukuna continues, “But, judging from the state you’re in now, I don’t think I want to know about whatever the hell love is.”

There are several beats of silence while the car begins to move— Suguru begrudgingly puts on his seatbelt after making sure his novel remained in his lap. Sukuna cleared his throat, staring straight ahead albeit, while speeding.

Suguru holds back a groan as Sukuna turns his head in his direction for what felt like the fifth time, Sukuna looks down at his lap, snickering, “The Little Prince? Real manly.”

Suguru turns to him, annoyed more than anything, “Your hair is pink.”

Sukuna grumbles something unintelligible.

“Are you stupid or insane?”

You stare up at Haibara, who is still clad in his suit, although his bowtie is undone, the strip of fabric hung loosely along his collar, A lazy smile plastered on his face. Nanami scoffed from across the where you sat at one of the (now abandoned) venue’s tables.

You’re are hyperaware that the guests (who have now exited the venue to gossip on the front lawn) can see you sitting dumbly and staring at your hands. As of now, everyone thinks that Nanami is ‘talking some sense into you.’ Without your wedding dress on it’s glaringly obvious to them that you haven’t changed.

(Still chasing your own tail.)

(But you have changed! Everything is different! You’ve made it!)

“Come on—” Haibara’s voice is hushed, albeit whiny, “You did say you wanted to talk to him.”

Haibara dangles the keys to a familiar BMW in front of your face.

In Alaska, stealing property valued at more than 25,000 dollars constitutes theft in the first degree. If the court convicts an offender of theft in the first degree they can receive a maximum sentence of 10 years in prison and a fine of up to 100,000 dollars.

Of course, there was no way you would have known that, but— despite your lack of knowledge in the vast realm that is Alaskan law, you knew that it is never a good idea to steal a car.

Let alone your uncle’s car.

Nanami lets out a dry laugh. “Haibara— How’d you even get Naobito’s keys?”

Haibara turns to Nanami, “That,” He pauses for dramatic effect, “ is none of your business.”

(He told Naobito he was the valet.)

(When Naobito questioned him, Haibara said the only way he was going to wear a suit was for Toji to pay him.)

(He pretended not to be offended by how easily Naobito believed him.)

“Okay…” You breathe, “Say that Naobito finds out and we’re taken to court. What then?”

Haibara gives a dutiful smile, “Good thing we have Nanami.”

An exasperated sigh comes from Nanami’s direction— across from your spot on the table, “For the last time, I’m an accountant, not a lawyer.”

Yu furrows his brows and takes the seat to the right of you— in between you and Nanami. He lets out a confused hum.

Several seconds of silence pass— the resignation had begun to settle, you felt it in your chest.

(He never wanted to see you again. Why wouldn’t you relent?)

Haibara turns to you, “Are you sure you like this guy?”

Your eyes widen, “Well— I mean— it’s a little complicated.”

He cuts you off with a snort, “I think I’ve got a better idea.”

Nanami turns to Haibara impatiently, “So you’re gonna give the keys back.”

“No— we’re still gonna take the car…” You and Nanami wince at the other man’s words, Haibara continues, “But— Naobito won’t sue us if we take Naoya.”

(Nanami swears that, Haibara’s statement has no semblance of sound logic)

Somehow, that makes you feel worse. Still— you’d gotten everything you had wanted, it’s not like you had anything to lose.

(Subtly, you missed the incessant chanting; the voice reminding you of your place.)

(For once, in the monotony of your adult life— being a failure hadn’t felt as awful as it should have.)

(No— somehow being a failure wasn’t so bad when Suguru was there to lament alongside you.)

(It’s a terrifying thought.)

“We’ll head to the airport, catch Suguru before he gets on the plane, watch him confess his love and be back before your parents really start to hate him. Easy.”

Haibara is oddly nonchalant about the entire thing.

(Though, the thought of Suguru averting his eyes, with pink dusting his cheeks was a comforting one.)

“Alright. Where’s Naoya?”

Nanami furrows his brows. Whilst you move to find your cousin.

Naoya is smart.

At least, that’s what he’d tell his friends back in high school— after finding out he’d aced the most recent biology test.

He’d acted nonchalantly, he’d scoff and say something reminiscent of a narcissist while leaning back in his chair, his hands resting behind his head as if he hadn’t felt relief wash over him.

I wouldn’t expect any less.

Of course, there’s a lingering feeling that electrified his nerves— he’d felt every contraction of his heart when he studied (From the hours of 4 pm, when he got back from school, to 10 pm, when he’d sleep.)

He’d sit hunched over the quaint desk in his room— it would be dark without the yellow light of the lamp that sat in the corner— clenching and unclenching his fists, staring down at a thirty-page note package. Trying to remember; trying to learn.

(He had brought home a quiz months prior, he'd gotten three questions wrong— an 88%)

(When Naobito had found the quiz crumpled up pathetically in the garbage he had let out a sharp Hah! as he called Naoya)

(Between scoffs Naobito waved the quiz in sixteen-year-old Naoya’s face, the creases in the paper revealing how desperate Naoya was as he crushed it into a ball.)

(Naobito’s punishing voice cut through the room, Aren’t you supposed to be a prodigy?)

All he needed to do was figure out what was happening in class— then he’d be everything he’d ever wanted to be.

But, he’d still feel his heart, he’d feel it beat and beat and beat and—

Systole is the contraction phase of the cardiac cycle. First, the Atria contract, followed by the Ventricles— the human heart is called a ‘double pump’ for this reason.

He had kept staring down at his notes, feeling a seizing in his chest— still, he had to study.

Diastole is the relaxation phase, the chambers of the heart are still as the atria fill with blood.

Naoya had shut his eyes he doesn’t remember when, but he refuses to acknowledge what he’s feeling.

He doesn’t want to know if he’s crying or not— prodigies don’t cry.

This is good! Tears and heart rate are controlled by the same part of the brain.

Right?

Naoya had opened his eyes to look at his notes.

Wrong!

He had sighed, sniffling slightly. He would be okay— so long as he worked he would be smart.

Naoya Zenin was not a prodigy— nothing came easy to him. He couldn’t understand lengthy passages written in the 18th century like you could, he wasn’t able to diagnose chronic illness in animals like Megumi.

He couldn’t handle dozens of facts and figures like Nanami.

He wasn’t able to take someone twice his size in a fight but his cousin— Maki, could.

He didn’t know his way around the bass guitar in the way Haibara did.

And he’d never be able to hold himself with the same charm as Suguru.

But that didn’t matter.

Because— if he spent enough time practicing, honing his abilities, he’d be able to do something. If he pretended that he was smart, Naoya could be smart.

Naoya Zenin could be smart.

Of course, this sentiment becomes particularly difficult to believe when considering the fact that he naively (and rather stupidly) believed that Naobito lent you his car keys to go on a drive to ‘clear your head.’

(In all honesty, suspicion should have been raised when you asked him to join you, Haibara and Nanami.)

(But, you’ve come to understand through Suguru, that ego seriously impedes rational thinking.)

Naoya’s hands grip the wheel— he’s always cautious when it comes to his father’s belongings, his foot barely touches the gas, the car is moving at a snail's pace.

You fidget anxiously in the passenger seat while Haibara and Nanami whisper amongst themselves in the back of the BMW.

Naoya clears his throat, “So…” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, keeping his eyes hyper-focused on the cobblestone of the road, “You were fakin—”

You cut him off, matching his action— staring straight ahead, “We are not talking about this.”

(The same voice that had accused you of failing made itself known in your skull)

(He’s right— it wasn’t real.)

(You insisted that you were the victim of some sick joke; he couldn’t of meant it)

(Dutifully you ignored the thought.)

(What are you doing?)

Naoya hums through the silence, “I’m just saying that I was right and—”

“Naoya.”

He takes the edge in your voice as a reason to stop mid-sentence. Naoya changes the subject, “Um— where are we headed?”

Haibara pays no attention to Naoya’s question, “Can you go any slower?”

Naoya pouts at Haibara’s blatant disregard for anything he had to say, “Sorry Haibara— but traffic safety is incredibly important in this day—”

Haibara lets out a dramatic, irritated sigh, you snort while Nanami stifles a laugh.

“Naoya.” Yu calls

Naoya sounds irritated, his vice grip on the wheel remains. “Yes?”

“Pull over.”

Your cousin swallows, “Why?”

“I wanna drive.”

Nanami buts in, “No you don’t.”

“Yes,” Yu insists, “I do.”

Naoya snorts, you continue to fidget in your seat.

(Suguru was going to leave you.)

(He was gone, gone, gone—)

You turn, “He’s right— pull over.”

You try to sound as nonchalant as possible, emulating Haibara.

Naoya turns to you, cocking his head, you try to save face, “Look Naoya— I know that we haven’t always got along but—”

Haibara’s laughter floats throughout the car, Nanami kicks his leg, you continue despite it, “—But,“ You pause swallowing hesitantly.

(Hatred is not a word that you’d use sparingly— it holds weight.)

(On a completely unrelated note, you’ve told Naoya you hate him on several occasions, the most recent being when your family bid you goodbye at the airport before leaving for New York, after Naoya had called you a bitch.)

(You had looked at him eyes gleaming under the fluorescent lights, I hate you, Naoya, I really do.)

Now, as you find yourself staring into the mocking eyes of your cousin, you notice that lying may not be as awful as your parents had said it was, “Family is still family, Naoya— trust me.”

He stares past you for a moment, before taking one last look at you.

You avoid his eyes, electing to stare at the cupholders on the console.

(You are painfully aware that he could see through you. Still— he thinks that you’ve had a bad day.)

Naoya relents— pulling the car over.

He sighs as the car comes to the stop, slowly peeling his fingers from the steering wheel. Haibara practically jumps out of his seat— slamming the door as he leaves and knocking on the driver’s window.

Naoya begrudgingly undoes his seat belt and opens the door— Haibara and your cousin awkwardly shuffle past each other, Naoya slides into the backseat, beside Nanami. Haibara makes himself comfortable in the driver's seat, shakily exhaling.

Two conversations occur in Naobito’s BMW shortly after:

You turn to Haibara with your eyebrows quirked— your voice significantly relaxed than it had been when Naoya was beside you.

“I didn’t know you got your license? Last time I was here you failed the road test.”

Haibara lets out a nervous laugh, “Oh… haha.”

Your face drops while Haibara confesses, “Yeah… I never got my license.”

“Oh…”

(Haibara used as much willpower as he could muster to stop himself from commenting on your hypocrisy.)

(What do you know about the law? Didn’t you try to commit marriage fraud and fail?)

“But don’t worry— it’s an anti-establishment thing, you know— like— I’m trying to make a point.”

You furrow your brows. “But you can drive, right?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely.” Haibara flashes you a contrived smile— through the thick silence of the car you can hear him grumble something similar to, we’re lucky we have someone who can drive like me!

You let out a dazed noise while turning to look straight ahead, out the windshield (you say your prayers at the same time.)

(But, for the sake of your friendship, you won’t tell Haibara that you’re unconvinced.)

(Instead, you decide to panic silently, to wallow in the dread completely on your own. Nanami was probably aware of the circumstances and Naoya would go into cardiac arrest if he knew of the current situation.)

(You could see him clutching his chest, falling to his knees and calling out to you— Cousin! I’m sorry I ever doubted you! Enjoy your promotion— And a life full of luxury!)

(You sighed dreamily at the thought.)

Naoya turns to Nanami, acknowledging him, “Hello.”

Kento stifles a sigh, looking forward trying to see if Haibara knew the difference between the brake and gas peddles, “Hi Naoya.”

Naoya took his greeting as an invitation to speak (much to Nanami’s discretion), “So—”

Nanami lets out a sharp noise— he’s clearing his throat, though it’s obvious to you and Haibara that it’s his silent plea for help.

But— The two of you are too busy to intervene— Haibara with figuring out how to steer and you with your self-indulgent fantasy.

Naoya continues, “It must’ve been awkward seeing your ex get married.”

Nanami doesn’t bother turning to him, opting to lean to the side, towards the car’s window. He rests his elbow on the armrest and his chin in his hand.

“No. Not really.”

Haibara steps on the gas— hoping to arrive at the airport in record time.

By the time Haibara parks in the parking lot adjacent to the airport (which happens to be a slightly larger parking lot), you notice the ridiculousness of your actions.

(And, Naoya notices that he has been tricked, scammed, used.)

You’ve struggled and demeaned yourself. You felt the punishing stare of the people in this town and you’ve grown familiar with the cruelness of New York.

You sat in front of a computer after long shifts, just to get your manuscript done.

And it paid off.

(Soon, you’ll make your own decisions, you’ll have your own assistant, your own book— your own office.)

You swallow, open the car door and walk a few steps— noticing a familiar plane coasting through the runway.

Suguru’s plane was taking off.

You didn’t bother to run after it or shout profanities. Though, the idea of shaking your fist at the sky was appealing, you were impassive.

(You would probably move into Suguru’s office)

(And you’re hyperaware of the fact that in some, sick, deplorable way you’ll miss his annoyed sigh.)

(And the way a room fell silent when he walked in.)

(The way he would lean into you— the way his breath ticked your face in Haibara’s record store. You wanted to believe that he would have kissed you.)

Suguru was an apparition, his presence, or lack thereof, was smothering. You’d feel him when moving your things into his office and pine for one more disappointed look.

You’d find a document with his sprawling signature, or stare up at the roof in the penthouse you were surely going to purchase and feel him.

Suguru would haunt and haunt and haunt. He’d be the nuisance that sullied your thoughts, the spot on your psyche.

(You couldn’t stop yourself from recalling the scratchiness of the voice in the mornings, or the way his brows furrowed when he read.)

Maybe, one kiss could have satisfied you— but he’s left you begging for him. Running like a horse chases a carrot on a stick; like a dog chasing its own tail.

His absence is a spectre that hung in your bones, you would move into your office with tall windows and a view, and you’d receive your first big paycheck while being haunted.

And this spectre would follow you, clinging to the unsaid words and your own voraciousness.

(There were still so many things you needed to say— but, it became apparent with the plane taking off, he was gone.)

(Suguru was gone, gone, gone.)

(And you had to grapple with the perversity of your success, its bitter nature and the apparition that followed you; this spectre ate at you.)

You laughed, looking up to see a plane take flight. The plane rose up, making you feel increasingly small. There’s something mocking about this. Feeling little in New York is okay— because everyone is small; everyone needed to deal with the fact that sprawling buildings would stare down at them in faux reverence. It didn’t matter if you were insignificant— millions of people were insignificant in that city.

Everyone had to grapple with their sharp footsteps dimming as the sound travelled through the cruelness of the sidewalks and eventually, the way the noise would fade into nothing. You had found solace in that. It was never just you.

But, as you watch the plane rise, you could feel some sort of larger, wiser being, sitting upon its throne and pointing a knowing finger at you. It would jut its chin outward and laugh— and all of its little minions, who held their trumpets close to their chests, would laugh too. This affliction invaded your throat and picked at your veins. It longed to pulverize your bones into a fine dust. Until the wind could blow you away. Until you were nothing.

The plane stared back at you and only you, mockingly. It strived to make you small, irrelevant while everyone else continued on with their lives after laughing haughtily at your affliction.

It was only you.

Though for a moment, it was you and Suguru.

(And soon, you think there’ll be nothing left. Nothing would remain but the hollowness of your skeleton and the sunkenness of your eyes and the mundanity you were so familiar with, after all that’s what work does. You knew it all too well)

(But— wasn’t that what you were working so hard for?)

Nanami’s hand grasps your shoulder. You didn’t notice that your head had tilted up, watching the plane disappear in the sky.

(Gone, gone, gone.)

He clears his throat, his voice hushed, “I’m really sorry…”

You hum, it came out deflated, Nanami could hear the defeat, “It’s fine.”

There’s a beat of silence before you continue, “Just—” you swallow, “Wait for me in the car, I think I’m gonna stay here for a little bit— you know, to clear my head.”

Nanami lifts his hand, accepting your silent request to be left alone. His dress shoes click mockingly against the pavement as he walks back to the car.

You lower your head and stare down at the concrete in a sigh.

For some reason, you knew you were going to be forced to lament while you live the life you’ve worked so hard for. You’d like to think that Suguru had wanted this. That he’s relishing the way he occupied every thought you had, every breath you took, every beat of your heart.

A pair of footsteps grow louder— they're less careful.

You don’t bother to turn; you know who it is.

He stands beside you, making sure there’s a noticeable distance.

Naoya sighs, he makes sure you hear the irritation in his voice, “You tricked me.”

You match his irritated manner, “I was hoping Nanami wouldn’t let you talk to me.”

Naoya scoffs, “I said that if they tried to keep in the car I’d call my dad.”

You let out a dry laugh.

“So…” He continues, “He’s gone, right?”

You dutifully ignore his question.

Your brows furrow, your face is warm— but you’d rather die the most brutal, painful death than cry in front of Naoya, “I got the promotion.”

Naoya’s face contorts, he turns and eyes you, “You sure?”

His brows quirk while you nod your head, “I’m sure.”

“Wow…” He trails off, “You don’t look very happy about that.”

Your voice would crack if you spoke, so you remained quiet. You closed your eyes to curb the tears.

Naoya watched as your throat bobbed. “Hey—” He sounds panicked, “Don’t cry.”

Your brows furrow, eyes still closed, “I’m not crying, Naoya.”

(As anticipated, your voice cracked. You sound distressed)

(Was it really just you?)

“You sure as hell, sound like you’re crying.” Naoya is equally distressed.

If you were outside of your body, gazing down at the both of you— you would surely let out a fit of giggles. It mirrored the time you spent together as children.

When you would make an 8-year-old Naoya cry by calling him a tryhard (Your mother forced you to apologize to him. You had muttered the ‘im sorry’ quietly, from behind the safety of her figure.)

Or when Naoya made you cry in the seventh grade, when he said you would grow up to be useless if you didn’t study. (It only took a pointed stare from Naobito for him to apologize.)

(You had looked up at him through teary eyes and mumbled, Do you really think I’m useless.)

(He had guiltily rubbed his neck, No— No one with Zenin blood is useless.)

Naoya lets out what sounds to be a contrived laugh, masking his panic, “Did you seriously like him?”

(Him— Suguru— the one who will continue to haunt you, who’d shake your presence and taunt, and mock and demean, and kiss you as softly as ever.)

“Maybe— yes,” There’s a pause, “I don’t know.”

You breathe shakily.

(Don’t cry— please, don’t cry.)

Your eyes are shut tightly, screwed shut trying to curb any chance of tears.

Naoya’s voice is soft, he’s hesitant, not sure what to do with himself, “Open your eyes.”

You shut them tighter, shaking your head slightly feeling the tears threatening to spill, Naoya keeps talking, noticing your reaction, His words are rushed abrupt his voice gets infinitely higher, “I’m sorry— okay, I’m sorry— why didn’t you tell me you liked him?”

You whimper, “I did— we did, remember with Sukuna?”

(Was that even real?)

Naoya winces, “Oh…” He sits with himself for a moment, “Well— I’m still sorry, moreso— even.”

You sit with yourself quietly, eyes still closed— wishing you were somewhere else.

Wishing that you’d be struck by a bolt of lightning, or a flash flood would sweep you away, consuming everything in its path. Any form of divine intervention— anything that would lift your soul up, up, up.

In spirit, you were somewhere else.

Naoya calls your name, pleadingly.

(somewhere else, somewhere else—)

“Hey— look— I don't—” His voice gets infinitely quieter as you open your eyes.

He avoids looking at you, contradicting his previous pleading.

Your stare pointedly at him, making sure he sees the tears collecting on your lashes. “What? Your voice is bitter; sharp.

It makes him wince.

You watch his throat bob, as he swallows his apprehension, “I don’t want you to hate me.”

You hum mockingly, he read your thoughts: It’s a little too late for that.

(Naoya was not a prodigy. He wasn’t in tune with anything— nor did he have any sort of talent. More importantly, Naoya was never empathetic.)

(But, if he worked and worked and worked, he could be anything; if he pretended to be kind he could be kind.)

He sighs, stuffing his hand into his front pocket, before smiling widely when he pulls out his wallet.

Tears fall down your cheeks while you watch him.

He digs through his wallet and pulls out three one hundred dollar bills. You stare at him.

He stares back, “Take the next plane to New York, catch him before he gets deported and tell him that you're madly in love.”

The sarcasm is not lost on you.

You purse your lips into a smile gazing into his pleading eyes. You exhale, hoping that he notices that you meant for it to be a laugh. He thrusts the money into your chest.

(This is his apology— you can see it when your stare up at his face, his brows pressed together in apprehension. You wished you could hide behind your mother; your father, someone wiser.)

You look down at where his hand grips the bills, you breathe, “I don’t want to hate you either.”

He smiles softly, it falters when you don’t move to take his money, “But,” You start, “I can’t take your money.”

His smile drops completely, “Huh?”

“Look— I’m so grateful but, I did this to myself, right? I can fix this on my own.”

“No, you won’t.” Naoya sighs, “Why are you so stubborn— you know that he’s going to be deported, right?”

You raise your eyebrows and let out a noise reminiscent of faux surprise. And who’s fault is that?

Naoya laughs nervously, “Look— you don’t have to get through every situation alone, you finally got your dream job. You’ve done enough.”

“I don’t know…”

Your lashes are clumped together, a reminder of the few tears you shed.

(Naoya’s stomach churns at the sight, If you’re upset then Toji is upset and if Toji’s upset then Naobito’s upset and if Naobito’s upset he’ll yell at Naoya, which will consequently make him feel like a failure.)

(And Naoya, like every other being that is sullied by the burden of conscious thought, does not like the feeling of being a failure.)

He grows impatient, “Just—” His jaw ticks, “Just let me be nice, just this once.”

You laughed. Naoya, who had tormented you throughout your childhood, Naoya who cursed you out while stepping onto the plane to New York; that Naoya was not nice.

You raise your eyebrows, ignoring the absurdity of Naoya’s behaviour, he breathes out slowly, “I know it’ll take you a while to forgive me. But— I don’t think I despise you as much as you think I do.”

You cock your head, daring him to keep going, “You can hate me all you want, I get it. But you said family’s still family right? So take my money, and stop looking so depressed.”

You laugh in his face, he scoffs in return, “And don’t act like this is some weird act of charity, you're paying me back the second you get your first paycheck.”

Hesitantly, you reach for the cash in his hands, you watch as his demeanour visibly relaxes.

For a few moments, you hold the bills under the scrutiny of your own gaze. Waiting for Naoya to bark in your face and yank the money from your arms.

Waiting for him to scoff: Did you really think I’d help someone like you?

You looked up to find him rolling his eyes impatiently, “Come on— you’ve gotta get home and pack your things— the next plane will be in…” He pauses taking a few moments to look at his phone, “An hour— you have one hour.”

He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to move to walk back to the car. Instead, you let out a dry laugh.

“Thanks, Naoya, really.” You take quick steps in an attempt to keep up with Naoya’s large strides.

“Yeah, yeah— it was nothing.”

You hum sarcastically, Naoya lets out a sharp noise, as if he just remembered something, “Can you uh—” His voice is hushed, “Can you please not tell Toji that I made you cry.”

You laugh up at him while entering the passenger seat of the car, “That depends on how nice you are from now on.”

Naoya physically deflates while sliding into the backseat, beside Nanami. He supposes, if he worked and worked and worked, Naoya could be nice.

There is something distinctly awful about having to be in close quarters with Sukuna. Suguru knows that he should be feeling grateful that he’s no longer in a car being driven by him. But, the suffering he is feeling now is too distinct— sitting beside Sukuna anywhere, let alone a cramped economy class airplane is god awful.

No, it wasn’t the airplane at all— it was just Sukuna who had introduced a unique form of misery.

Currently, Suguru was sitting in between Sukuna who had the seat closest to the window, and a man in grease-stained sweatpants who was ingesting copious amounts of peanuts from the palms of his oily hands.

Despite his surroundings, Suguru had found himself enthralled in the novel you had gifted him, trying to understand what your trying to tell him.

(The thought that reading this was some meaningless decision on your part tugs at every fibre of himself— it didn’t matter what your intention was. He was too busy trying to find the characters you were most like; who was who? Were you the Prince and Suguru the pilot? Or was it the other way around?)

(He grew giddy at the thought of talking about the ending together over tea; you would hide behind the cup while he teased you, you would roll your eyes but keep smiling.)

(Of course, that wouldn’t happen— not anymore.)

(Still, he thinks that every ridiculous line or allusion to mundanity would be one of your lazy jabs. You would tell them to him in between hushed whispers in the dead of night; he’d think of conversations you would have while you lay in the bed of your parents’ guest room.)

(That couldn’t happen either; not anymore.)

Sukuna yawns obnoxiously and the nameless man to his right continues to munch away, out of the corner of his eye Suguru can see him trying to subtly wipe the excess salt on his already stained sweatpants and discretely lick his fingers.

Suguru tried to pay the both of them no mind.

Sukuna yawns a second, more contrived yawn while stretching his arm into Suguru’s personal space. The pink-haired man makes sure to elbow Suguru in the ribs while retracting his arm.

Geto closes the book he’s reading, turning to Sukuna. “What is your problem?”

Sukuna gives him a predatory smile, “My bad, I’m clumsy.”

Both of them know that Sukuna was not clumsy.

An annoyed sigh rocked the thin aisle of the cabin, Suguru opened his mouth to speak, completely irritated, “So— what happens once we’re back in New York?”

The other man snickers slightly, “Well, you have 24 hours to pack your things and leave the country and I get to tell everyone at work about the loser who tried to marry his assistant.”

Suguru’s eyes sharpen, “Can you—”

Suguru was about to tell Sukuna to stop talking— instead, he is quickly cut off by a stranger’s cough. The man sitting beside him appears to be choking on a peanut.

Sukuna looks at Suguru then at the stranger pointedly. Waiting for Suguru to do something.

The black-haired man turns to the stranger with too little urgency. “Excuse me, sir, are you alright?”

He’s met with a fit of wet coughs and a wave of dismissal, “I’m—” The man let out another fit of coughs, “fine.”

He clears his throat aggressively wiping his hands onto his sweatpants for the second time before (rudely) snapping to get a flight attendant’s attention. She walks over, sharply, both Sukuna and Suguru notice the irritation that’s made it’s way into her eyes.

The stranger clears his throat, “Can I have water?”

Suguru laughs in disbelief, “Hi there.”

She looks up at Suguru, waiting for him to demand something. Her eyes are sharp, and he can hear her tapping against the sticky carpet of the cabin.

He subtly pats his lap, making sure that his novel was still there. The corners of his vision darkened, he heard some child crying and Sukuna scoffing for presumably no reason, and the man beside him trying to discretely clear his throat.

The flight attendant cocks her head, and Geto doesn’t know why he feels so scrutinized. He doesn’t know why he can feel his lungs expand and contract; his ribs moving in and out.

This wasn’t supposed to follow him, he was supposed to leave you behind. He was supposed to curb the apocalypse and leave the trumpets, and the doomsday signs all with you. He was supposed to leave you to suffer in that god-awful town— Suguru didn’t care.

He didn’t care that he still can’t breathe, or his heart, which would slow and speed up and stutter, had been replaced by a swarm of cicadas. He didn’t care about you or the way he could see you moving into his apartment— making it feel lived in, and adding your quaint collection of novels to his own bookshelf so he could read your annotations sprawling across the margins.

He feels himself breathe in; the air traveling through his trachea. He was supposed to leave you in that stupid town— where you would be overjoyed with being a published author or having a new and improved office job. Instead, he feels what could have been your phantom touches on a Sunday morning urging him to wake up.

(He thinks it would be similar to waking up beside you in that tacky guest bedroom.)

The flight attendant taps her foot faster, her impatience became obvious.

(Not that Suguru noticed.)

He clears his throat, trying to make it look like he was carefully contemplating what he wanted from her.

He should be thinking about the vast assortments of beverages and nuts and types of hummus that can be offered.

Instead, he thinks of himself shouting curses into a pristine blue sky. He’d shake his fist and yell until his voice is raw and eventually gives out. Tears would brim his eyes and he would feel pathetic but he’d keep going. Finally, he would look up at the cloudless sky, teary-eyed, and whispers a question; he thinks it would sound more like a plea.

What more do you want for me?

And nothingness would stare back at him, blankly. There wasn’t a cherub clutching its trumpet nodding triumphantly, or a smiling God nodding dutifully.

No— Suguru had waited patiently for the voice warning him of doomsday or apocalypse to come back and praise him. Or for a heavenly orchestra and a bright spotlight to descend from above to announce his saintliness.

Instead, he is left alone to revel in his mundanity.

He wants to gaze up at the sky and ask What now?

But the sky is empty.

There is a realization that grazes each plate of his spine; this feeling is completely his own.

(Guilt? Regret? Coveting? He’s not sure, but he knows it’s pathetic.)

(He feels pathetic.)

Suguru smiles up at the flight attendant, as if he’s made up his mind, “I’ll have a water too.”

Her face softened a bit, but the scrutiny never left him. This suffering is sacred in a way— it's only his, and so are his brazen fantasies. He is stuck between a pink-haired narcissist and a greasy-fingered stranger, and he is completely alone with his distinct, visceral sort of suffering.

The woman walks away, the clicking of her heals is dampened by the carpet of the cabin.

He could ignore this like he ignores everything else, besides, the novel was plenty of company. He could find solace with himself, the quaintness of the novel— and by extension, the thought of you and whatever happiness you were going to find.

He leans back into the chair, revelling in the discomfort of it all. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of suffering (the acrid scent of peanuts.)

Sukuna hums, completely ignoring the fact that Suguru looks to be asleep, “You know, I think in some weird, awful parallel universe, we would have been friends.”

Suguru’s eyes open, he doesn’t bother to turn to Sukuna, he’s exhausted “Why is it that I’m always on your mind?”

Sukuna snorts, “You flatter yourself, pretty boy.”

Suguru doesn’t bother to address the new nickname, everything that left Sukuna’s mouth was demeaning, “Are you sure there’s nothing you can do?”

The other man feigns ignorance, electing to examine his tattoos under the unflattering light of the cabin, “Do about what?”

“You know…” Suguru lets out a pointed sigh, “Me getting deported.”

Sukuna laughs— its gleeful, “You dug your own grave— I wouldn’t help you if I could.”

“You’re awful— do you know that?” Suguru chuckles at his own words— he doesn’t know why he’s bothering to make the fact known.

Sukuna leans into his seat, turning to Suguru, “Who doesn’t?”

The flight attendant comes back with two cups of water; she places them carefully on the trays infront of Suguru and the stranger. She walks away worldlessly before either of them could thank her.

Maybe it’s the exhaustion, or the constant sound of chewing driving him insane but he could swear the hostility in Sukuna’s voice had died down. That they had forged an odd form of companionship founded on their negative public opinion.

Suguru chooses to embrace what was probably delusion, “What’s up with your tattoos?”

To Sukuna’s surprise, Geto’s question isn’t malicious. He turns to Suguru, electing to watch him for a moment. His eye’s scan the way Suguru had sunken into his seat— the way he gazed up at the roof.

Suguru looks, utterly, defeated.

And Sukuna revels in it.

(He doesn’t think he could love anything as much as he loves his job.)

Sukuna laughs, “None of your business, loser.”

(Suguru sighs— it was definitely a delusion.)

The stranger laughs at Sukuna’s words, Geto eyes Sukuna, “I get payed three times the amount you do.”

“Oh yeah? With the job you just lost?”

Instead of retaliating, Suguru looks at the pristine cup of water that sat in the corner of his airplane tray. His wraps his hand around the cup, watching the condensation slip down the sides of the plastic and dampen his fingers.

He lifts the cup to his mouth and barely sips it. He sets it down on the bottom left corner of the tray table. Suguru’s hand hesitates on its way back to his lap.

(The end was no longer approaching, the trumpets where no longer sounding. Suguru was free, free, free.)

He almost sighs a breath of contrived relief ignoring the weight in his chest and the novel on his lap.

Suguru lifts his hand so it rests on the tray, beside the cup. A calm, charming smile overtakes his face, as he knocks his hand into the cup. Sweeping it into Sukuna’s pants and completely soaking his clothes.

He’s sure that Sukuna cursed him out but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Sukuna slams the cup on his own tray, the rattle of the empty plastic reverberated limply.

Sukuna scoffs in disbelief, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Suguru turns to him, his eyes are as sharp as ever; his smile is attractive, it was something he would show to his subordinates. “Must’ve been the turbulence.”

Suguru opens his novel. He supposes that while he reads it, he can pretend that it’s only the two of you. He’ll pretend that he did it to save the world. He’ll pretend that he did it for anyone but you.

The first thing Suguru does when he arrives in New York, is the first thing a number a number of people would do. He saunters into his penthouse, not bothering to turn the lights on.

It only strikes him as appropriate to turn the lights on, when he drags his feet into his bathroom to brush his teeth.

He winces at the fluorescent lights, before yawning.

There’s a buzzing coming from his back pocket— his phone. He fishes it out.

Incoming call from Satoru!

Dutifully, Suguru declines the call

But, like every other time, Satoru does not relent. Suguru receives a barrage of texts from his friend.

Satoru: Why’d you decline

Satoru: pick up your phone

Satoru: you alkways do this

Satoru: always**

Satoru: pick up your phone asshole

Satoru calls back, Suguru picks up. He figures that one more defeat won’t matter in the grand scheme of things.

Geto’s not surprised to hear a woman’s voice in the background, “So…” Satoru’s voice gets higher in expectancy, “How’d it go?”

Suguru sighs, “Alaska was awful, and I’m getting deported.”

Satoru snorts, the unnamed woman mumbles a question that Suguru can’t decipher.

He thinks it’s something similar to: What are you laughing at baby?

Satoru ignores her, his voice is shaky— it’s obvious that he’s trying to hold back a laugh, “So you tried to marry your assistant and…” He lets out a shaky breath, “And failed?”

Suguru scoffs, “I walked out.”

Satoru lets out a contrived gasp, “You walked out on your wedding day? How awful!”

“You and I both know it was a fake wedding.”

“I’m just— I’m a little shocked that you’d let yourself get deported.”

“I felt bad.” Suguru tries to come to his own rescue to no avail— he continued to dig his own grave.

“Oh!” Satoru’s sentence is broken up by laughs, “So you’re letting yourself get deported because you felt bad? You. Of all people.”

“Please, for the love of god, shut up.”

Satoru is fully laughing now, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to visit.”

Suguru stays silent, Satoru takes this as an invitation to keep running his mouth, “I’ll make sure to bring your assistant too— or is she your girlfriend now?”

Suguru can see his jaw clenching in the mirror of his bathroom, “Hey Satoru?”

“Yeah?”

“Put me on speaker.”

“Why?”

“Remember that time I lied to the Dean for you?— trust me.”

(Whenever Suguru really wanted something, he’d bring up one of the many times Suguru had helped Satoru avoid the deserved consequences of his actions)

(Today— he chose the time he gave the Dean of their university a fake alibi. It was Gojo’s excuse for skipping a final exam)

(Somehow the Dean believed him and Satoru was exempt from the exam. He maintained his 4.0 GPA)

Satoru sighs, there’s a click, “Alright Suguru, you’re on speaker, but someone’s here with me so be nice.”

Suguru laughs, addressing the woman with Satoru, “Hi angel, are you Satoru’s friend?”

She stutters nervously, “I’m his girlfriend.”

He could practically see Satoru stiffen. He holds back a scoff

“Oh! That’s great!”

“Yeah…” She sighs dreamily, “He’s been amazing.”

He hums, deciding to cut to the chase, “Yeah— well, he’s cheating on you.”

Suguru hangs up with a click, smiling to himself and moving to grab his toothbrush.

You notice, while jogging down the cruel streets of New York, that your plan isn’t ill-conceived for the sole reason that you haven’t taken the time to make a plan.

You supposed that you could of formulated some painstakingly specific list of ways detailing what you were going to do once you got to New York, but you were too busy reading. A tiny voice in your head beckons that you should have spent more time sleeping on the plane.

(The Little Prince is about, boa snakes and hats and elephants and passion and adults and a number of other things you can’t bring yourself to talk about.)

After stumbling into your apartment and throwing your luggage hastily on the floor, you took too the streets— not knowing exactly how you were going to go about this situation.

Suguru was most definitely at work, probably relishing the way everyone avoided eye contact, and lowered their voices when he walked by.

You couldn’t deny the fact that Suguru was still himself— he still laughed condescendingly and pouted mockingly. No one could dispute that he held himself like a leader.

But, as you’ve come to notice over the last three days, after seeing both yourself and Geto get repeated humiliated, his smiles are so much more alluring when their genuine. When push had come to shove, and the both of you were forced to shake the cruelness from your bones, you found the warmth of companionship.

Your footsteps ring through the streets, mixing with those belonging to other civilians. You jogged faster; though, not enough to appear desperate. It was reminiscent of the way you’d make your way to work in the mornings.

It dawned upon you that his actions could have been a formality. It would be his way of of playing god. You imagined him dismissing you with the same ease you imagined his kiss at the altar:

You didn’t really think I liked you, right?

The thought of it was too humiliating to bare. So, if you were mistaken and by some slim, virtually impossible, chance, it really wasn’t real, you’ll match his condescending scoff and ask for your father’s watch back.

(You’re still jogging through the streets of New York, but the pedestrians pay you no mind: it’s cold.)

You want to say that you’re excited for the opportunity to be cruel; to see him flush in embarrassment. But that sort of corporate brutality has already left a bitter taste in your mouth.

(Cruelty has already blocked out the sun! It’s made the sky red and caused ash to fall from above!)

Your shoes (which were designed for the carpet of an office) hit the concrete rhythmically, a sort of lullaby.

And you continue to pray— hoping that you won’t have to fall into the cruelty that often seized you. You wanted the warmth that came with holding his hand, with cupping his face after a kiss.

You wanted it to be real.

Tap, tap, tap.

Please, please, please be real. (But, if by some off chance it isn’t, you’ll move on, letting your shared weekend haunt you: like a ghost.)

(You’ll move on, like everyone else does. Like everyone has to.)

You stopped at a familiar building, and move to enter the glass, revolving doors; back to work.

“Shoko!” Suguru, leans over her desk a sharp smile overtaking his face. He’s finally where he belongs.

(Though, he misses the intimacy of the small town, he does not miss the awful cell service.)

Shoko leans back into her seat, not bothering to hide the pristine cigarette burns tarnishing the wood of her desk, “Yes, boss?”

(Her voice is sickly sweet, Suguru can see her disdain for him. He doesn’t mind, it’s a mutual feeling.)

Suguru lifts a box labelled ‘Office Things’ and drops it aggressively onto her workspace, “I need this mailed to the address written on the side.”

Shoko nods, despite that, she turns back to the computer sat in front of her and continues typing.

(For a split second Suguru catches a glimpse of a few stray cigarettes laying limply in the cup that held her pens)

Suguru sighs, “I need that done now, Shoko, I’ve got a flight to catch in…” He looks down at his— Toji’s watch, Suguru ignores the way his lungs seize, “Two hours.”

She eyes him, then her gaze flits to the door, her brows rise in surprise, “Yeah… Uh— Geto I think someones here for you.”

Suguru starts to turn, visibly irritated “What. What is it?”

Subtly, Suguru hopes that it’s Yaga. He imagines that he’s come to the main floor to beg Suguru to keep his job— that he’ll do anything to keep an employee like him. He almost smiles at the thought of his own boss walking in with his clothing dishevelled and his eyes watery.

Instead, he’s greeted with you, breathing heavily, stepping towards him from where the elevators are.

(Suguru thinks that this is good too— he’d rather die than confess that, though. But, if he did, he hopes that you’d giggle.)

You wave hesitantly at him, apprehension plaguing your face.

(This was an awful idea— why didn’t you think this through.)

The entire office falls silent, even the usual break room gossip pauses.

Like a leader, Suguru speaks first, “Why are you panting?”

You breathe for a moment, “I ran all the way here.”

“Really?” Suguru scoffs at his own sarcasm, “From Alaska?”

You can’t bring yourself to laugh at his joke— Shoko snorts instead. You catch your breath and straiten your back, while you walk towards him, “Suguru, we need to talk.”

For a moment, your coworkers look around in shock at your casualness— at the way you had called him by his first name with ease.

Their confused glances become more pronounced when Geto does nothing to reprimand you, “I’m right here.”

(You think, while taking a quick look at where Shoko sat behind Suguru, that this is the most present she has ever been at work.)

“In private. We need to talk in private.”

He turns to his office not bothering to tell you to follow, you knew what he was doing.

Despite that, you feel your breathing stutter with every step. Suguru opens the mahogany door for you, letting you step in. He enters after, slamming the door shut. Moments after your coworkers burst into chatter, the air fills with rumours, gossip, assumptions.

(Nothing has changed.)

You deftly ignore the fact that it’s just the two of you now.

He walks past you, to sit on top of his desk. He gazes at you, in a manner you’ve never seen before, and finally cracks a grin, “What do you need, sweetheart.”

You take a small step towards where he sat perched on the table top of his desk, not bothering to acknowledge the view of New York he had in his office. “I—uh.”

He raised his eyebrows in amusement.

(You really should have thought this through.)

(Well— it was fun to give into your delusion for a little while: It was time to ask for the watch back.)

(It was time to ignore the ringing in your ears and the beat of your heart and the want for more, more, more.)

(For the entirety of your life you had been voracious. You coveted and you lied and you endured through the monotony of life for more: You have never been particularly selfless.)

(Why start now?)

“Suguru.”

You hold eachother’s gaze

He shifts under the scrutiny of your gaze, moving to slide off the desk, “Look— I don’t know why I agreed to this. I don’t have time to talk I’ve got a flight to—”

“Suguru— listen.”

You notice your coworkers trying to subtly gaze into his office through the glass panelling of his office. Suguru’s voice steels, “I don’t get why you’re back here, you’ve already gotten—”

(He stops himself, realizing his jab is eerily reminiscent to what you told him— beside the lake.)

You’ve gotten everything you’ve ever wanted, Suguru.

He feels a certain nausea while he hears the ringing in his ears return. He wonders if this is some sort of punishment— if the world was only ending for him.

You steel your voice, “Jesus— Stop talking.”

He purses his lips, and leans back against his desk. He cross him arms but doesn’t dispute.

(No, he thinks, while he gazing down at your face, noticing the way you avoid his eyes, The world must be ending for you too.)

“Fine.” Suguru relents. “What?”

You furrow your brows slights, as if trying to recall a memory, “Three days ago I loathed you.” There’s a pause, “I used to dream about you getting hit by a cab.”

Suguru raises his eyebrows for the second time, “You’re off to a great start, Sweetheart.”

You ignore him, “But things changed, okay?”

His grin falters.

(He’s beginning to wonder why the sun hasn’t been blocked out, or why a flood hasn’t swept him away only to drown him.)

You keep going, noticing his copy of The Little Prince splayed lazily on the corner of his desk. “Things changed, when we had our weird adventure in Alaska— when we kissed, and you told me about your tattoo and— and you fell in that lake.”

You laugh, recalling, that memory, Suguru looks annoyed. Still, you persist, “But I didn’t realize any of this until I was standing at an altar, in wedding dress holding a bouquet of flowers, completely alone.”

He shakes his head slightly, avoiding your gaze, “Trust me, you don’t want this.”

You walk towards him, “I’m not gonna beg, Suguru.”

His voice is hushed, he clenches his jaw “There’s a reason, that I’m on my own and— shit— if you want it so bad here it is: I don’t think that I have ever experienced anything more awful than this weekend.”

You furrow your brows, was that a confession or an insult?

For once, Suguru dutifully ignore the ringing in his ears and the way Toji’s watch sticks to his skin. For some, odd, unknowable reason he keeps talking, “I hope—” His voice lilts, “that you can sleep easier now that you know that I— fuck— that maybe I like it when you hold my hand— maybe I like you, okay?”

(Oh. It was a confession.)

He pauses staring up at the panelled roof and laughs. “That’s really messed up, actually— I like you a lot.” He clears his throat,

(Be a leader, Geto!)

“But, I think it would be easier if you just let me catch my flight and we forget about whatever happened between us.”

His voice is soft and he prays you won’t hate him.

He looks down to find your eyes downcast— he can’t tell if your tearing up; he doesn’t want to know. He’s scared he might shed a tear too (which would be awfully embarrassing.)

You speak, it comes out as a whisper, “You’re right, it would be easier.”

You stare past him at the book laying dumbly on his desk, you walk towards him. “Did you finish the book too?”

Suguru cracks a soft grin.

(He wanted to talk about it on the couch of his penthouse— he wanted to feel his cheeks flush and hear your laughter in between haughty debate.)

(he should be jumping for joy: It was real, it was, it was, it was.)

“Yeah— I think it’s one of the best things I’ve read.”

“Better than The Stranger?”

For a moment, he thinks that he could live with doomsday signs, and dystopia and armageddon— he could endure.

(Why was it that the world was always ending when it came to you?)

“Hey…” Suguru says lowly, “look at me.”

You look at him, he stands to his full high instead of leaning against his desk— the distance between the two of you is minimal. You grow giddy at the feeling of his breath tickling your cheeks.

(Suguru was supposed to say something piteous. Something that would keep the thought of him lingering in your head. He wanted to torture you— he wanted you to look at every man and only think of him. He wanted to be the only name on your tongue and the only thought on your mind.)

(But he was selfish— and he doesn’t do well when he doesn’t get anything in return.)

(Besides, it was real, wasn’t it?)

He leans in, giving you plenty of time to push him away, or to curse him out. He gives you plenty of time to profess your hatred.

(But you don’t choosing to lean in instead— and Suguru, relents giving in to the threats of doomsday. The end had arrived!)

(It felt so much softer than he imagined.)

You think there should be fireworks, or a choir of angels, maybe even a round of sharp applause coming from no one in particular. But, when you’re met with the careful feeling of his lips against yours, and his hand moving hesitantly to hold your jaw, all you feel is Suguru, Suguru, Suguru.

That’s good, too; it’s just as rewarding.

He pulls away, and his eyes are downcast, “Shit— I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You listen to his breaths for a moment, not knowing what to do. You laugh.

(It was real! Real, real, real!)

He calls your name, shaking his head slightly; he hopes and prays you can’t hear the shakiness of his voice, “I just— this is stupid—” You urge him on giving him a knowing look, “I’m a little scared.”

You gaze up at him, the air in his office growing warm, you flash a defeated smile, “Me too.”

(Suguru thinks that his world has already ended— that he’s already sold his soul to false prophet. He had fallen in love with the moon and would love to walk into the ocean, so he could be the darkness surrounding it.)

(He wants more, more, more: what’s one selfish act?)

Suguru sighs, trying to calm his nerves, “Marry me.”

You snort.

He frowns, “I’m serious.”

“Wait,” You voice is still breathy from the kiss, “Actually?”

“Yes— and I can stay in the country and we’ll make things work. And if we hate each other we’ll just break up.” A stupid smile overtakes his face, “And it’ll be okay, even if we’re scared, right?”

You laugh, matching his smile, “Shouldn’t you get down on one knee?”

“Yes or no sweetheart— I’ve made up my mind, I want you.”

You flush at the blunt nature of his praise. The heat rises up from your neck, urging you to smile a little wider. If this is what suffering, and cruelty, pain felt like then you could live with it. Your face was warm as you accepted your condemnation. Coincidentally, Suguru has grown attached to the end of the world. There were no trumpets or mocking figures in the sky— just you, you, you.

You lean in, ignoring the callousness of the city outside the window. A familiar sort heat slithers in between your ribs— it’s not as awful as you remember.

Suguru smiles into you; you think he can feel it too, his face is warm.

‘The little prince blushed once more. He never answered questions, but when someone blushes, doesn't that mean "yes"?’

― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

Taglist: @crybabyjabby @wallywaffle @milkierei @chims-kookies @i-am-the-unknown0916 @mrswhitethornbelikov @melanieacademy @galaxyfruits @tojis-wisteria @isl3t @riddledlove @luvseos @mistalli @xxkay15xx @cerealfrdinner797

You guys want an epilogue?🤨 Maybe some headcanons🤨 I don’t think I’m ready to let this au go😭

#suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #getou suguru x reader #Nanami x Reader #nanami kento x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fluff #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader

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pickypicknoname · 3 years ago

Text

A good man [yan. Wars]

TW: Yandere themes, Non consensual body modification, non consensual kissing, mispelling, bioshock 1 spoilers, character death (Time), Brainwashing.

This is a snippet for a bigger piece i’m writing.

once again- Spoilers for Bioshock (old game, but like eh)

0. a good man is:

“Would you kindly love me back.”

Warriors isn’t a good man.

He knows this. He knows this very, very well.

He has cheated, lied, deceived, pillaged, and murdered for the sake of Hyrule — a city that has consumed the life and souls of people seeking salvation, only to turn said salvation into an eternal purgatory to torment their souls even after death. He’s brought destruction hidden under the ideals of creation and protection.

In the words of others: “His” cause is just, yet his methods were no better than Ganon’s or Cia’s.

(Link is not a good man. He is a selfish, egotistical, self centered, cruel, and unjust man who spent his entire life to conveying the image of a heartful, charismatic, kind and understanding captain that others love to perceive as a “true hero.”

After everything, sometimes, Link looks at steps that he’s built upon to make his life and has to bite back the hysterical laughter that bubbles up chest

A hero. Hero. hero . heroherohero—

A manmade hero made out of brutality and horrifying experiments that have destroyed lives that are seen as things, but pure cattle. In the reflection of shattered glass that litter the streets of ravaged Hyrule, Warriors Link smiles.

Oh, He’s a hero alright. )

However, he’s a selfish man. A business man even.

And whats Warriors want, Warriors gets. No matter what.

i. a good man is a liar with a scarf.

Warriors isn’t a good man.

This you know, but by the time you truly know it, it is far too late to do anything about it.

“Would you kindly sleep for me.”

You stare hazily at blue eyes before you mind shuts down like a tv. A loud buzzing rushing through your fuzz filled mind. His hands linger on the sides of your face, cupping your face gently as the syringe loads into your body with ADAM. In the depths of closing slumber, you wonder when he had gotten his hands on that before you suscumb fully to his demand. Hazy, blank eyes stare back at him. Vacant like the halls that he wanders around. Vacant like the morals he had liked to parade in front of Ganondorf.

A good man wouldn’t use an innocent person. A good man wouldn’t brainwash, torture, and create a “human being” for the sake of revolution that isn’t even his

(shooting Time shouldn’t have been so easy, but in the end, it was as easy as taking candy from a mere babe. The poor fool had been frying at the seams. Begging for scraps of information about Malon and his dear boys, Twilight and Wind.

Even willing to eat at the hands of a cowardly liar who hungered for blood.

Parading with his identity, taking over the revolution as “Time” had been one of the easiest things he’d ever done, and Link had done a lot of difficult things.

For example: You.

Meeting you. The bastard child of Ganondorf. A creation bored from plasmids, dna of the sworn enemy, and a piece that Lana swore up and down that belonged to Hylia. By all means you weren’t technically human. You weren’t born in a real womb, but an artificial human in a mimicking test tube and thrown out into the surface after experiments showed your durability to live beyond what should be fatal wounds, strength, and the final plan of taking down Ganondorf

He should’ve killed you after the deed was done. Should’ve strung you up like the rest of damned beings in hyrule—Instead he strings you along which makes you wish you were dead. Just like your father.

He always looks at you with a charminh smile that never reaches his cold, blye eyes: “ would you kindly come with me .”

It was never a question.

After all, You never did have a choice.)

A good man wouldn’t touch somebody without their knowledge for the sake of a farce, or under the impression of “true love.”

A good man wouldn’t cut and destroy the ability to choose, to think, and to know for the sake of pure adoration even if it’s fake.

(Warriors is an awful person, but Link will always be a coward at heart. He doesn’t fully go through with destroying your mind, instead just settling your consciousness into a sort of “backseat” type of occasion that blanks whenever he uses the trigger phrase. He chooses to ignore how you’ll know everything he does to you and you can’t do anything about, aside from internally screaming in horror, rage, and grief as your autonomy is taken by the so-called “hero” of Hyrule.

Link is not a good man, but a coward, and cowards will always prioritize their own wants over the needs of others.

Even yours.)

A good man wouldn’t be doing any of this. But Warriors isn’t a good man. And when your eyes flutter, the light returns back to them. He ignores the blistering hatred concealed under dull eyes that show “love.”

A good man doesn’t exist in Hyrule. Only devils in human skin.

#yandere lu wars #yandere lu warriors x reader #yandere lu warriors #yandere lu #my writing #tw yandere #tw: yandere #cw yandere #rosie writes

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fishstyx · 4 years ago

Text

“hopeless.”

featuring. brat!nagito komaeda x gn!reader

wc. 0.8k

genre. smut

tw. nsfw, penetration, degradation, humiliation

synopsis. when nagito can’t follow the simplest of instructions, he’s practically begging you to teach him a lesson.

Nagito Komaeda has a habit.

It’s that he can’t be good for you, can’t stay still when you tell him not to move, can’t keep his hands off of you when you’re trying to pin him down. He’s weak and effete—body laced with sickness and fatigue—but he tries anyway, play-pushing you in vain when he isn’t quite getting his way.

Nagito Komaeda has a habit.

It’s that he whines when you don’t indulge him, that he refuses you when he’s moody, and above all, that he does the exact opposite of what you tell him to do. He just can’t help it, acting up whenever the occasion arises, and lately, it’s been all the goddamn time.

He’s doing it right now, running his mouth with sputters and moans when you told him to keep hush mere seconds ago, whimpering and wailing in retaliation as you roll your hips in teasingly slow motion. How couldn’t he make some noise, he reasons, when you asked him so nicely not to?

Nagito Komaeda has a habit.

It’s that he’s an irredeemable, petulant, all-around brat.

“You’re hopeless,” you think aloud, and his eyes go wide, mouth parted as the color rises to his face. He shifts beneath you, cocking his head as to give you a sideways glance, breathy mewls still hanging from his lips.

“Hopeless...” he repeats, as if trying it out for size, brow furrowed as he turns it over in his head. He startles when you let loose a curt chuckle, tucking stray tufts of hair behind his ear with saccharine-sweet affection. How adorable. That’s all it takes for him to spit the word out like a bad taste, “Am not,” breath hot and unwavering, but you can’t help but notice the split second where he tightens his hold on your back.

“Are too,” you insist, “such a bad boy.” And you swear you can feel him grow against your gummy walls, legs going numb as you let him bottom out inside you. You smirk when he can only manage a breathy moan in response. “I think I’ll have to punish you.”

And then you’re completely still, watching him with intent as the humor slowly disappears from his face. Needless to say, he doesn’t take it well, shifting uncomfortably in the suspense.

“N-Need you to move...” He bucks his hips gently, a plea for friction.

“I’ll move when you agree with me.” You give pause, a devious smile crossing your lips. “I’ll move when you admit it.” He bites his lip in response, peering at you through snow-colored lashes, hoping it’s a ruse. But moments pass and his cock starts to ache for need of relief, itching for some momentum, your refusal to give in slowly sinking in.

He matches your resolve, adamant in holding his ground, trying his best to take the lead and wake his shaky legs from their slumber. He holds you by the waist and slowly, gradually, starts to bounce you on his dick. But he’s unable to get himself off just right, movements jerky and uncoordinated as he shoves his length into you, lack of skill evident in the pout that flattens his lips. He attempts, unsuccessfully, to satisfy himself, but the harder he tries, the hastier he gets, awkward and fumbling.

You don’t bother holding back your laughter, amused by his show of ineptitude, how the length he was blessed with can be put to such utterly pitiful use, and he wilts under your watchful gaze. When a particularly rough thrust fails to humble you, he flusters in shame, halting full stop as he hangs his head in humiliation.

The pause he gives is treacherous.

“I’m... I’m a bad boy,” he finally whispers under his breath, unable to lift his head from its stupor.

“And?” You give pause, unsatisfied with the obvious concession, and he doubles down but a moment’s hesitation later.

“I’m a naughty, worthless little brat who d-doesn’t even know how to use his dick,” he says, strangled force behind his words, clutching the material of the bedsheets as if they were a lifeline. “I’m a slave for sex and I need to be dominated, so please...” He looks so hopeful, so expectant as he chokes out that last word that you finally relent, sinking him inside you in his entirety before riding his length at an angle that has him locked in a full-body shudder.

“Glad to see you know your place.” You smirk when he throws his head back, thoughts hazy and only half-there as you screw him mindless. He keens indecently, overcome with pleasure as you swallow him whole, a reward for his rare bout of honesty.

Nagito Komaeda has a habit.

He’s a brat through and through—it suits him, but at the end of the day, he’s your brat, and yours alone.

#happy birthday: to my favorite.#nagito x reader #nagito smut #danganronpa smut #danganronpa x reader #nagito komaeda #tw. penetration.#tw. degradation.#🍣.food #fishstyx.dr

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moxleysreigns · 4 years ago

Text

Slumber Party

Characters : Becky Lynch / Seth Rollins / OFC

Summary : A girls night slumber party turned threesome

Warnings : Graphic sexual content, rough sex, threesome, cursing, mention of blood, daddy kink

Word Count : 3,978 ( I got a little carried away lmao)

Notes : I haven't wrote fanfic in years so bare with me on this. Partly inspired by Slumber Party by Ashnikko

You and Becky have always been close to put it lightly. Both of you met at NXT and went through the ranks together, eventually ending up on RAW. One drunken night back in NXT, you two hooked up, turning it into a regular occurrence from then on.

Neither of you told anyone until Becky’s current boyfriend, Seth came along. Seth could see the tension between you two, he finally worked up the courage to ask. Becky of course, spilled the secret immediately.

From then on Seth was always weird around you. It was more of a “you’ve hooked up with my girlfriend and that’s hot but, I’m too shy to ask for more details” way. Becky eventually told you.

After learning that information you quickly put it to use, teasing Seth anytime you could. You would never do anything to jeopardize your friendships with them or their relationship but nonetheless, it was fun to watch him squirm.

Since NXT, every Friday night was “girls night” for you and Becky. You would drink some wine, watch movies, and hang out together, eventually passing out. Seth always took those evenings to hang out with Dean and Roman. “Poker night with the boys.” is what he always said with a few 6-packs in hand.

This Friday was the same. You pulled up to Becky and Seth’s house, walking up the stairs fixing your leggings on the way. You stopped at the door with a knock and immediately, Becky pulled you into a hug. “Woah Becks, watch the shoulder, you got me good sparring today.” You said, with a wince. Becky pulled back smiling.

“My bad Y/N, I guess I got a little carried away.” she responded with a laugh. “I still have to finish getting ready, I'll be out in a minute.” She ushered you into the living room and you sat down next to Seth.

“What are you still doing here Seth, did Roman & Dean cancel on ya?” You asked. He sent you an angry look followed by some type of complaining under his breath you couldn't make out before averting his attention back to the football game on the tv.

“I’ll take that as a yes."

Becky came out of the bedroom in a pair of black leggings and your merch that she had turned into a crop top. “Damn, babe, you look good.” Seth said looking up from his game.

“You know I have to agree, my name looks real good across your chest.” You added on with a wink. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Seth shift on the couch and you couldn’t help but giggle. You stood up, strolling over to Becky grabbing her by the hand.

“Well, since Sethie here got cancelled on we can go have a girls night at my place. You are my girlfriend for the night anyways, I want your undivided attention!” You said planting a kiss onto Becky’s cheek making her blush. Seth sighed into the couch “And here I thought I could crash girls night this time.”

“Absolutely not. Becky replied

“This is the one night I get away from you.” You couldn’t help but laugh at how adamant she was about it.

“Shut it Y/N don’t make me power bomb you through the kitchen table.” Seth responded as he pouted.

After listening to Seth and Becky bicker back and forth for a few minutes she grabbed your hand. “Let’s go Y/N.” Becky said, pulling you towards the door. Seth sat up grumbling how it wasn’t fair that you were stealing his girlfriend for the night.

You looked at Becky with a smirk and she dropped your hand knowing what you were about to do. You walked over to Seth who was now standing, grabbing him by back of his neck and whispering in his ear “Me and your girlfriend playing dress up at my house, I give your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch.”

Becky laughed as Seth’s eye went wide at your words. You leaned back smiling giving Seth a wink as you grabbed Becky’s hand and walked out the door.

“What did you say to him? He looked like he saw a ghost!” Becky asked walking down the stairs.

“Just something to get him to shut up.” You replied getting into the car.

“Now let’s go get some wine.” Becky's eyes lit up at your words and you were off.

Seth stood in shock at your words watching you two walk out the house laughing. After a few minutes he sat down trying to get back into his football game.

He had to admit, he always thought you were attractive and the thought of you and Becky sleeping together was incredibly hot. He knew you liked to tease him about it but he couldn’t get his mind off of what you said.

It had been about 30 minutes when Seth finally decided to do something about it, grabbing his keys and sprinting off to his car on the way to your apartment.

Becky and you were laying in your bed, halfway through your bottle of wine watching “The Notebook” when Becky got a facetime.

“Who is it?” You asked finishing the last of the wine in your glass. Becky rolled her eyes and showed you the phone with the name “Sethie Poo” on the screen.

“SETHIE POO?!” You yelled

“That has to be the worst nickname I have ever heard.” You said grabbing the phone from her and answering it.

“What do you want Sethie poo?” You asked, still laughing. Seth's eyes widened at the nickname before asking what you two were doing.

“We’re drinking wine and watching movies, like we always do.” You responded.

“Well I'm coming to join you.” he replied quickly.

“It’s an all girl party.”

“Clothing optional.” Becky added which sent you into a fit of laughter.

She had never really joined in on the teasing you did to Seth. You saw Seth’s cheeks go red before he quickly hung up the phone. Throwing Becky’s cell back to her.

“Well that got rid of him.” She looked at you laughing. Everything was going great until you heard a knock 5 minutes later.

“You gotta be shitting me.” You both said in unison.

Seth was standing at your door with his hands in his pockets. You opened the door to see him swaying back and forth.

“You owe me $10!” you yelled back to Becky in the bedroom hearing her giggling.

“Yes Mr. Rollins, how can I help you, I’m kinda busy with OUR girlfriend.” You said with your hands on your hips making sure to emphasize the our.

"I got lonely at the house by myself. I brought a present, though.” he responded gesturing down to the bottles of wine sitting at his feet.

“You know the way to a girl's heart.” you replied, moving out of the way to let him inside.

“Put one of the bottles in the fridge, grab a glass and meet us in the bedroom.” you yelled to him walking back into the bedroom sitting next to Becky. Seth came in a few minutes later telling you to scoot over. He sat on the bed getting comfortable, uncorking the wine and filling everyone’s glasses.

“So what are we watching? The Notebook really?” Seth said trying to grab the remote from in between you and Becky.

“Uh-huh, no way! You came and crashed our girls night, you get to watch what we want.” Becky said swatting his hand away from the remote.

Seth grabbed his hand dramatically spouting off about how he couldn’t believe his loving girlfriend would hit him and how hurt his heart now is. You rolled your eyes.

“Both of you shut up and watch the movie.” You responded nudging them both.

By the time the end credits were rolling the three of you had gone through 2 1/2 bottles of wine. Becky was curled into your side asleep as you played with her hair. Seth sat up seeing Becky cuddling you got on his nerves, he sighed.

”You know, you could wait until I leave to get all cuddly with MY girlfriend. He spat a little angrier than he intended it to be. You sighed sitting up as Becky shifted with you.

“You came in, crashed our girls night, and then get upset when Becky cuddles into me. Need I remind you she was my girlfriend first?” You retorted smirking.

Seth leaned into your ear and your breathing hitched. “You may have been her girlfriend first, but who gets to fuck her every night Y/N?”

He leaned over, pleased with the look on your face, grabbing the remote and turning on a different movie. “You may fuck her every night Seth, but I bet you I eat her better than you ever could.”

You saw the look of anger in Seth's eyes knowing you pushed the right button to get under his skin. "Why don’t you wake her up and ask her, I would love to hear her response.”

Before you could say anything Becky sat up rubbing her eyes. “If you two don’t stop arguing about me I’m gonna just have to fuck you both.” Both yours and Seth’s eyes went wide at the statement.

"I- uh what babe?” Seth responded after a few seconds. You were so dumbfounded you couldn't even think of a response. Becky scooted in between you two quickly.

"I said, if you two don't start arguing about me I'm gonna have to fuck you both." Beck retorted as she leaned in to kiss Seth.

"Alright Becks, I love you but you're drunk right now. Let's call it a night okay? I can call you guys an uber." You responded reaching for your phone. Becky quickly swatted it out of your hand.

"Y/N, you're telling me you haven't thought about fucking me again? it has been a while you know." Becky said, pulling you into a kiss. You had to admit that you did miss sleeping with her, you thought about it often in all honesty.

You didn't even have time to respond before she was pulling on your shirt begging you to take it off. Seth watched in amazement as you broke the kiss and quickly discarded it, realizing you weren't wearing a bra underneath.

Becky pulled Seth into her grabbing his hand and putting it onto your breast. You gasped into Becky's mouth at the sudden contact. Seth tweaked on your hard nipple while Becky trailed her hand down your stomach and into your black leggings. Slipping a finger in between your already dripping folds you bucked your hips quickly begging to be touched by her like old times.

“Please Becks.” were the only words you could muster as she took your leggings and underwear off. Leaving yourself completely vulnerable in front of your two best friends.

Becky leaned back pulling Seth into a kiss as she smacked the inside of your right thigh. You yelped in response, Becky taking that as a sign to go forward. She quickly used her finger dipping into your dripping core and curling to find your g-spot. Your back arched as you watch Becky and Seth in a heated make out session.

Seth broke the kiss looking at you a writhing mess just from one finger of his girlfriend. Seth took his thumb putting pressure, rubbing harsh circles on your clit. You quickly felt your orgasm building. The bundle of fire in your stomach begging to be let go.

��Seth- Becks- please I’m gonna...” was all you could say before you were cumming hard, screaming both of their names. It took you a second to catch your breath. You looked up to see Seth sucking on Becky’s fingers. He pulled you into a kiss letting you taste yourself.

"You two have too much clothes on." you said realizing you were completely naked in front of your two very clothed friends. Becky and Seth laughed immediately ripping off their clothes.

Once they were both completely underdressed you got up, pushing Seth onto his back. You pulled Becky into a kiss, your hands traveling down her body.

You have always been mesmerized by Becky's body, every curve, every freckle, the way she moved underneath you. She has, and will always be your favorite addiction.

"I've missed you so much!" you said as she pulled away from the kiss

"I've missed you even more baby girl." You were both so enthralled by each other you completely forgot Seth was laying underneath you two watching with lust in his eyes.

Both of your attention quickly turned to Seth. The whine he let out as you stroked his hard cock was like music to your ears. Slowly stroking his dick as Becky sucked on his balls sent him into a frenzy, he was writhing underneath you both begging to be touched.

"Please , blow me Y/N, please baby I need it so bad".

Feeling like he had begged enough you quickly took him into your mouth, relaxing your throat letting him hit the back of it. You deep throated his cock, giving his balls little kitten licks as you bobbed your head up and down. Becky pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail as she praised you for how well you're sucking her man's cock.

"You look so pretty taking his dick baby girl, show him how good that tongue is"

You moaned around Seth making his hips buck. Becky quickly pushed his hips back down before bending down to kiss him. Your hand reached up to smack her ass and she moaned into Seth's mouth. She pulled you off of her boyfriend with a POP and devoured you into a kiss begging to taste her man on your tongue.

While Becky was distracted by your kiss you slipped a finger in between her folds teasing her. Her hips moved with your hand, her sensitive nub begging to be touched.

"Please baby girl, please touch me. Don't make me beg." You pushed Becky down onto the bed, her back hitting the spot right next to Seth. Kissing her again, you trailed your hands up her body, feeling her shiver just from this small touch.

Moving to the nape of her neck you placed small hickeys there marking her as your own. Seth took this time to move to the other side of her, leaving identical marks on the opposite side of Becky's neck. The two of you were fighting for dominance over her. Becky loving every second of it. The thought of her boyfriend and ex-lover fighting over who got to touch her made her melt.

Seth quickly moved down Becky's body, leaving open mouth kisses on every part of her skin. He found her breasts taking one into his mouth while you took the other. Becky was so close to her orgasm already, thrashing in the bed as you both sucked on her perky nipples. Leaving more hickeys on her chest, down her stomach. Nipping at the skin on her hips as Seth got in between her legs.

Peppering small kisses on Becky's thighs, Seth knew all the right buttons to push on Becky, slowly pushing her over the edge to beg for what she needed most. Seth licked a long stripe up Becky's core stopping to suck on her clit gently.

"Please daddy, please give me what i need. Eat me out baby please" Becky gasped out begging enough to make Seth smirk. In seconds, he was devouring Becky, one finger inserting into her dripping cunt, curling slightly to find the spot that would make her scream.

You watched closely as Seth ate Becky out, playing with yourself letting small moans out as your finger dipped into your pussy, teasing yourself. Becky pulled you up above her head. Getting the hint quickly you sat on Becky's face. Nibbling onto your clit gently sending chills down your spine as you rode her tongue gracefully. The sounds of moans and faint curses filling the room quickly.

You looked down to see Seth lining himself up with Becky's entrance. You bent over to lick on her clit as he pushed in slowly, hissing at how tight she was. Seth pulled you up by your hair, kissing you hungrily.

"You're gonna watch me fuck your girl, once she cums all over my dick you're gonna lick it up. Do you understand me?" Seth asked you as he yanked your head back by your hair, biting into your neck hard enough to draw blood.

"Yes Seth, I understand" As soon as you finished your sentence he pulled you back into a kiss, both of you moaning into it.

Seth grabbed your neck choking you, "You call me Daddy in bed baby girl." He said as he let you go, watching you gasp to fill your lungs with air.

Becky was still having her way with your dripping cunt as you ground against her mouth begging for more contact. Becky stuck her tongue out, letting you ride her face as you pleased. You quickened your pace, knowing you were about to cum all over her mouth. She quickly stuck two fingers into you, immediately finding your g spot. Thinking you couldn't be stimulated anymore was a mistake, you felt Seth taking your right nipple into his mouth sucking hard and biting gently.

Soon enough you were in the clouds, your orgasm washing over you as you fell forward onto Becky's body. Your body spasming as she continued to lick your core, helping you ride through your orgasm.

Seth pulled you off of Becky's face flipping the two of them over. Becky pulled you into her as she bounced on Seth's cock. Twisting her nipples gently sending ripples of pleasure through her entire body. With one hand still working her nipples, the other dancing down her body finding her clit rubbing harsh circles. Becky was a mess in front of you, clawing at Seth's chest which made him whine, bucking his hips into her. With each thrust Seth was hitting her g-spot. It didn't take long before Becky was seeing stars.

She began grinding down on Seth as she rode out her orgasm. Her head lulled back onto your shoulders as she came down from her high. Kissing you softly, cupping your face with both hands. Grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking he whispered in your ear.

"You remember what daddy said right? Get down there and suck the cum off of his cock." Biting at your earlobe sending chills throughout your body.

Your hair was yanked into a makeshift ponytail again as you lowered your mouth onto Seth's throbbing cock. Swirling your tongue around his tip before taking all of him into your mouth. Hollowing out your cheeks you sucked hard, cleaning all of Becky's cum off of Seth's dick. Seth bucked his hips into your face as you went down farther. As soon as he felt you relax your throat his hands overtook the ponytail Becky had your hair in. He used your hair to help guide you, bobbing your head quickly. Sliding your tongue over his head every time you came up.

Seth finally pulled you off of him, your eyes watering and spit soaking your lips connecting to the tip of his dick. You hadn't realized Becky was behind you until you felt a smack on your ass. Arching your back into the slap you felt another come down on the other cheek.

"You look so pretty gagging on his dick, do you know that Y/N?" Becky asked, sliding a finger over your cunt. You whined in response. Plunging two fingers into you quickly Becky felt you squeeze around her.

"You're close already aren't you baby, I can feel you clenching around me. Can you take another finger? I know you can. Breathe for me baby girl." All you could do was nod quickly, pushing back onto Becky's fingers, your body practically begging for more.

Taking Seth's dick back into your mouth you bobbed your head furiously. A hand coming up to play with his balls almost sending him over the edge.

"You better stop, before I cum in the pretty little mouth of yours." Seth growled, "I wanna fuck that tight pussy before I do" Yanking your head back again biting at your chin leaving a mark that will definitely be seen in the morning.

"Hands and knees now." Becky whispered as she pulled her fingers out of your pussy. You obeyed getting on your knees with your stomach against the bed. You wiggled your butt hearing both Becky and Seth groan at the sight.

Seth thrusted hard into you, giving no time to adjust as you screamed in pleasure. Your eyes tearing up from all the stimulation of the night. Feeling the bed dip behind you, you realized Becky was now underneath your body. Sucking on Seth's balls as he fucked into you. You could feel Becky's mouth inching up to your clit reaching down and pulling on her hair.

Becky smirked as she was kissing your thigh. "Be patient baby girl, or I'll make Daddy stop and you won't cum again."

"I'll be good I promise just please, please eat me while Daddy fucks me." Both Becky and Seth growled at your words. Seth's speed picking up as Becky worked her tongue on your clit. You couldn't think straight, you couldn't see straight. Pleasure was completely taking over your body. Burying your face into the mattress to stifle your screams.

"Don't you fucking dare keep quiet baby." Seth practically yelled as he smacked your ass. "I wanna hear how good you're feeling right now." Seth pulled you up to his chest, making you look down as you watched Becky eat you out.

You could feel the pressure building in your stomach, your orgasm was coming any second. "Please, Please I'm gonna cum!" You said in between moans. Your body tensing up as you were pushed back onto the bed.

"Cum on this dick now!" Seth said as his hand came down on your ass, instantly sending you over the edge. Everything went black as your third orgasm of the night completely took over your senses. A string of moans and curses falling from your lips.

After coming back you realize Seth's thrusts are getting sloppy. He's so close to cumming, your orgasm almost sending him over the edge. His thrusts becoming faster, harder, his cock begging to release.

"Both of you on your knees now." Seth barked the order at both of you before pulling out of your sensitive core. You and Becky were on your knees as quick as possible, tongues out waiting for Seth's seed to release into your mouths.

You took his dick into your hand, pumping fast as a string of profanities left Seth's lips. His hips thrusting into your hand. Seth's cock was throbbing.

Spurts of cum were going into both yours and Becky's mouth. Both of you holding him up, his orgasm taking everything out of him. Becky and you swallowed at the same time as Seth sat down on the bed kissing Becky and then you.

Falling onto the bed you feel Becky curl into you, her hand resting on your hip as she nuzzled into your neck. Seth spooned into the back of her. All of your bodies molding together like they were made for each other.

As you were drifting off to sleep you heard Seth chuckle. "I might crash girls night more often." He said kissing Becky on the head and reaching to take your hand. Kissing his knuckles and smiling. "I think I'd like that, what about you Becks?"

The only response you got from Becky was soft snoring. Both you and Seth looked at her and giggled before drifting off to sleep yourselves.

#wwe smut #wwe #wwe imagines #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #sethrollins #seth rollins smut #seth rollins x reader #becky lynch #becky lynch smut #becky lynch x reader #my fanfiction #my fanfic #wtf else do i tag this

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twstedtales · 4 years ago

Note

I am not the anon...But i really curious about the ending vil and Malleus ???

Oh, you mean this? ◕ ◡ ◕ no problem, anon-chan! I'll write Vil and Malleus's endings for you! And sorry for not posting anything yesterday, I got caught in a bit of a pinch so didn't finish writing anything www.

Pairings :: Vil, Malleus × Female Reader

TW :: none!

𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯, 𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩 ...

Vil is very admirable; as you have repeatedly told him with a wide, genuine smile on your face. It was the most sincere praise he ever got from someone, and he was glad that it came from you. In your eyes, he was undoubtedly the fairest of them all.

But, if you see him now, desperate and feeling all guilty at what he had done to you, you'd be surely shell shocked. Who wouldn't, anyway? When the dignified Dorm Head of Pomefiore had a wrinkled uniform, smudge makeup that desperately hid the bags growing under his brilliant violet eyes, and the somber expression on his face as he studiously worked on a potion specifically tailored to you.

Vil had always loved looking at your face, despite your overall simplicity compared to him, but now, every time his eyes gaze at your tranquil sleeping countenance, the seething guilt, the gravity of his actions and the heavy pit settling in his stomach mixed with unease that was already present.

So, the moment you rose from your slumber, Vil had simply greeted you good morning with a small huff, like what he always did when you two woke up together. Confused at his actions and shocked by his current appearance, you knew that something was off about him even though he acted all the same.

Vil had explained to you what transpired the past two weeks, purposely leaving the part where he was clinging desperately to you to wake up. But he was sure you know that already. And just like he expected, you took both his hand and squeezed it in assurance.

"Thank you for waking me up, Vil." You smiled as you gently undid the messy tie of his braids and let its silky strands fall. You started to massage his scalp until you felt him relaxed under your hold. "Your potion was really effective."

"Too effective, should you add." Vil corrected, the ugly twist in his stomach was finally becoming undone. "And I should apologize for my mistake. [Name], I...forgive me..."

"Forgiven," you cheerfully told him, cupping his cheek carefully before wiping up the dark smudges of dried eyeliner from his eyes. "Besides, even if you did 'cursed me to sleep', I know you can wake me up. I trust you after all."

"How can you be so sure?" He asked skeptically. "I am a villain, just so you know."

"A villain for others? Perhaps. But for me, you looked like a dashing prince." You spoke jokingly and he couldn't help but to laugh. It's amazing how the Vil become somewhat idiotic; trusting your words more than his. Because he knew that you are a very stupid potato to believe in him when all he could do is to be disgusted by his failures and mistakes.

Malleus was adamant in keeping you in check for the next few days as you lied in your bed no matter how hard Sebek begged him to rest. He made your bed very comfortable, your body and clothes magically clean and made sure you're not dehydrated.

And he had told himself to be more careful at casting magic on your person. Humans get sick easily, and they have weaker bodies compared to faeries like him. Malleus knew of this by theory, but didn't exactly know the serious repercussions if it happens. You are the first human he had ever been interested in after all. And this inexperience of his had caused you to feel sick.

So, when you finally woke up from your cold slumber, Malleus had done everything he could to support you, clumsily so. He wasn't used to doing things without the help of magic, but it was rather cute to see him being slightly clumsy at the things you deemed normal.

Like how his hands shook when you offered to spoon-fed you personally because of your weak limbs. Or how he asked Silver multiple questions on how a television works for your entertainment. Or perhaps asking Sebek how to cook porridge...Lilia was out of the question. He doesn't want your conditions to worsen because of his...dubious creations.

It was a surreal experience for both Malleus and yourself, and even for the rest of the Diasomnia group. It was the first time they saw him do everything by hand, without the help of magic, and he certainly learned quite a lot.

And he sweetly promised you that he will learn more so he won't make the same mistakes over and over again. He loves you, so if it means learning things without his magic would be the best decision for your sake, Malleus would do his best to not rely too much on his power, but he wanted to protect you himself, and from himself.

#twst #twisted wonderland #vil shoenheit x reader #malleus draconia x reader #vil schoenheit #malleus draconia #athy writes #requests for athy #mirror mirror on the wall #female reader #pomefiore #diasomnia

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waka-nii · 3 years ago

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in honor of the haitanis anime debut, here's some haita-niis haha see what I did there

cw: nsfw - incest, oral sex (male receiving), one (1) baton strike, cum play.

"rin, nii-san's gonna get mad at us again." you tell your brother as he lifts the old t-shirt you wore to sleep over your head.

"he's gonna know, rindou. he always knows." you insist, but you can't help but give in to the open-mouthed kisses he's leaving all over your chest.

"relax, baby. he's out, he won't find out." rindou reassures you, but that doesn't last long as you hear a third voice coming from the doorframe.

"well, what do we have here?" you freeze at his words and rindou sighs, getting off of you. "what did I say about doing this by yourselves?"

"oh, come on. we can't always wait for you to come back from god knows where. she's not complaining, is she? maybe she's having more fun without you." rindou says with a smirk on his face.

"oh, rindou... you never learn, do you?" ran walks over at you, now standing beside the bed covering yourself with your bedsheets. "and you, what do you have to say for yourself?" the older haitani holds your face in his hands, waiting for your answer.

"I... i'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, nii-san." you say, trying to look away from him

"oh I know baby, but you know bad girls get punished, right? bad boys too." ran looks at you with a sadistic smile on his face. "go get my baton, yeah?" you nod and make your way to his room. "and you, rindou, get on the bed right now."

rindou rolls his eyes but does as he's told. when you enter the room, baton in hand, ran smiles at you and takes his weapon from you.

"now get on your knees and sit all pretty, okay?" he signals for you to kneel on the floor, facing rindou's shirtless body on your bed. ran sits behind his younger brother, leaning him on his chest and looking at you over his shoulder. "you got a nice view from there, huh?" ran asks you and you nod, knowin better than to ignore his question right now. "yeah, you do. so watch closely, okay?" ran runs his hands down rindou's chest and pulls down his sweatpants, revealing his member right before your face.

"what's got you so quiet, rindou?" ran whispers against his ear. "you were being so cocky just minutes back"

"shut up, you're so annoying" rindou talks back at him

"yet here you are - in my arms, impossibly hard and practically dying for me to touch you" ran smiles.

"fuck off, ran" now he's done it. ran grabs the baton and strikes his thigh. rindou lets out a groan as you watch his cock twitch at the impact.

"watch your mouth, my dear little brother..." ran runs the baton up his thigh and onto his cock "...and take your punishment like a good boy, yeah?" rindou whimpers as the eldest takes the baton to his flushed tip, smearing the bit of precum that was leaking. you're already rubbing your thighs together, trying to get some friction to relieve the need between your legs. ran notices this and smiles at you.

"oh baby, did we turn you on? how sinful, little sister. it's such a shame you can only watch" he turns his gaze to rindou. "let's give her a good show, yeah?" ran puts the baton down by his side and starts working his hand on rindou's cock. the latter tries to swallow his moans, still adamant on defying the eldest. ran's hand moves elegantly, watching all of rindou's reactions as he tortures him with his slow strokes.

"feels good, right? tell our dear y/n how good it feels" ran coos at him, picking up his pace

"shut- fuck... shut up, ran" rindou leans his head back on ran's chest "stop playing games" ran's hand stops.

"fine, you brought this on yourself. kneel." he points at the spot beside you.

"huh?" rindou protests "seriously, what are you playing?"

"kneel. I'm not saying this again." ran says, looking at him in the eyes. rindou finally complies, not wanting to find out what your brother would do if he didn't obey him.

"nii-san, please..." you look up at him, every time being more aware of the wet patch on your underwear.

"you can beg all you want, but thanks to our lovely rindou here, you're not getting a goddamn thing." ran unbuttons his pants, getting his cock out and stroking it a couple times. "open up." you open your mouth, anticipating the taste of your brother's cock. "you too, rin." he says, and rindou finally does so. ran stands up and runs the tip of his cock on your warm tongue, pulling out just as you were starting to suck on it, then does the same with rindou. both of you whine as ran teases you, stroking his cock lubricated by a mix of your saliva.

"ah... look at you, my precious little babies. what do I have to do for you to learn your lesson?" ran shamelessly moans between his words. "I thought I'd taught you to share, but it seems like we have to go back to the basics." he moves you closer to rindou. "now open up, you're gonna share my cock like the good little siblings you are, 'kay?" he says with a smile on his face. you latch onto him, both having completely forgotten about shame, punishment and self-respect.

"good, that's good" ran's voice comes out as a moan as you eagerly suck on his cock. your tongue meets rindou's as you lick his shaft up and down. "why can't you always be this obedient? you look so good like this, my perfect little siblings, pleasuring me just like I taught you. who's gonna take my cum, hm?" ran says as he feels himself getting closer.

"you want it, rindou?" the younger haitani nods without taking his mouth off ran's member. "too bad, shouldn't have talked back at me." he pushes rindou away. "ready, baby?" you nod with your mouth around his cock. ran stills your head and thrusts roughly into you as he releases inside your mouth with a groan.

"don't swallow baby, hold it." ran says "we gotta share, remember? now give rin his part." you turn to rindou and press your lips to his, opening your mouth to transfer the hot liquid into his. ran sits back down on your bed watching the two of you make out, his cum dripping down your chins. the kiss gets more heated as rindou takes your hand and guides it to his cock. unfortunately for him, ran did not forget why you were here.

"you really think you're allowed to cum tonight?" the eldest says, swatting rindou's hand away with a kick.

"tch..." rindou leans back down and stomps his foot on the ground like a kid who was just told he couldn't play anymore for the day. while rindou throws his fit, you look up at ran, who's already figured out what you're trying to say.

"no, baby. you're not allowed to cum either." you pout at him but stay silent in case he changes his mind. "you should've thought about it before disobeying. now let's go to sleep and maybe tomorrow I'll make you cum. if you're good, of course." you stand up and ran instantly takes you into his arms, laying you on the bed where rindou had already crawled and was half asleep.

"stop moving so much, if you're not letting me cum at least let me sleep" rindou says with a tired voice. you both laugh at your brother's words, earning an irritated groan from his part.

"good night, my babies. try not to anger me so much, yeah?" ran says

"ugh, shut up" rindou protests, but he throws an arm over you, taking ran's hand in his.

"good night. I love you." you say, snuggling into ran's chest and tracing circles on rindou's arm over you.

"we love you too, baby." ran says

"mhm. now go to sleep, i'm tired" rindou ends the conversation as he falls into a slumber.

#tw dark content #tw incest #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #ran haitani #rindou haitani

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yanderenightmare · 5 years ago

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YANDERE ! SHIGARAKI TOMURA x FEM ! READER

goodiebag WARNINGS: yandere, dubcon/noncon, abuse, anxiety, drugging, guilt, kidnapping, abduction,

FATE

It was fate. That’s what he’d said. It was a rather brief encounter. She woke up, in a bed that was not her own, in a dark room devoid of windows, smelled a smell she could only be describe as dust, with a man she didn’t quite recognize. He lurked in the corner, quietly observing her in her slumber. Wanting so badly to touch her, because he knew he could. And he had, until that nagging feeling of guilt surfaced and he forced himself to retract his hand from traveling up her thigh and confined himself to the corner of the room. His fingers itching to touch her soft, warm skin. He admonished himself for using too much of the drug, perhaps she would have woken up already if he’d been more careful, but he figured it was a safety measure that had to be done, otherwise she might’ve woken up before he’d gotten her to his room. And what was worse was that when she did finally wake up he didn’t have much time to explain. He was happy she didn’t scream, but that could have been the drug. She most certainly wasn’t as docile when he came back.

That was a while ago now. Or… at least it felt that way to him. He was so itchy. Seeing her every day. And only barely being allowed to touch her didn’t help. In fact, it only made him that much more itchy. He tried his best to be kind, to be understanding. Not wanting her to grow bored in his absence. He’d even allowed her access to his console and games, however offline. But there was hope; she seemed to have accepted the situation more now. She had at least stopped screaming and struggling and using every second on trying to escape. He felt that maybe she was more inclined to be with him now, after spending so many hours alone. He wished she wouldn’t fight him. He really didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, but… he was just so itchy.

She cursed her quirk. It had always been a nuisance. At the doctors she had to file for traditional check-ups because no healing quirk could surpass her immunity. It was a joke at best. Quirks couldn’t touch her. When it came to Tomura, she definitely saw it as a cruel joke. Without her quirk he had the power to kill her on the spot, however with her quirk the monster had fallen in love with her, clung to her as though she were the only person left on earth. What was worse was that she actually sympathized with him. “It must be a terribly lonely existence.” That’s what she’d said to him under their first encounter. This, however, by no means meant she was going to willingly become his little pet. She struggled throughout the entirety of her first day, screaming her lungs out, crying her eyes out, kicking until she had no more energy to give and then fallen asleep, only to have awoken with his arms slung around her, tightly gripping onto her as though his life depended on it. That day too, she’d thrashed and sneered when he tried touching her. However, there came the third day… when he snapped.

This was yesterday. She woke up with her wrist tied snuggly together above her head, more rope connecting them to the bedpost. A product of his growing impatience. She began hysterically crying once he climbed on top of her, begging him, pleading, bargaining, saying his name as though he were some type of malicious God she had to satisfy.

And although he’d gone through the lengths and extremities of threatening to kill all her acquaintances to quit her objections, he couldn’t go through with it. Again, he didn’t want her to feel abused. He didn’t want to cause her any pain nor be the reason behind her tears. He didn’t want her to fear him or hate him, he wanted the opposite. He adored her. All he wanted was some peace of mind, and she served as his only sanctuary.

He hadn’t fully realized how badly he wanted her before he held her in his arms throughout that entire night. He always enjoyed sleep, but with her lying against him it became nothing short of heaven. With her wrists still tied together, there was little she could do to stop him, his death threats still lingering in the air, when he started decaying every piece of clothing. Feeling the tremors run through her. The quaking as his hands danced up her exposed skin, playing with what they found. Feeling her recoil into him each time he would, in his amateurism, pinch too hard. He thought of her continuous quivering as similar to when a puppy wags its tail, to distract himself from what it really indicated. It was easy to forget himself when she was soft like velvet and smooth like silk and warm like life itself up against him. He didn’t do much more. Untying her before he had to go. Watching her rub her sore wrists made his stomach fold in guilt when he left this morning. He apologized, but she didn’t answer.

Stealing her was selfish, he could admit that, but he would make it up to her if she only allowed him one little taste…

She sat on the bed when he came back, wet hair dripping onto the sheets. She showered before he came, an attempt to wash the night off her, it only mildly irked him. He couldn’t stay mad though, not when she was sitting there so preciously with his black hoodie on, looking at him with such wide, glossy eyes. He kept the room dark; light irritated his skin, and he didn’t want to feel anything but comfort when he was with her. Besides, maybe the dark could make him seem just a little bit more appealing. She still flinched when he made to touch her.

Not wanting to scare her, he decided to kneel down instead. Enjoying how her feet didn’t meet the ground when she sat propped up on the bed. Taking her ankles, delicately gliding his fingers around them, and placed them on top of his thighs. Not letting go. He leaned his forehead against her knee, feeling as though her warm skin was absolution itself, a paradise of some sorts. She didn’t say anything, but the uncontrolled breaths were loud enough to indicate her fear. She was the one person he couldn’t harm, yet somehow, she seemed more afraid than anyone else. He would’ve laughed, but it wouldn’t have helped.

He dragged his fingers alongside her legs and came to a halt at her knees, wanting to part them. He hadn’t given her anything to wear, not seeing the point as they would probably be disintegrated anyway. She hadn’t taken the opportunity to put on one of his boxers either. All the clothes she came in were a pile of ash, thanks to him. In other words; his hoodie was the only thing she was wearing. How could he possibly hold himself back? It was almost as though she meant to antagonize him.

She felt the pressure he added to his fingertips, her knees slowly starting to spread. She curled her toes, a small whimper spluttering past her lips. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she stopped him. Taking his hands in hers. He didn’t seem all too provoked. Giving him a desperate look, one that was met with an even stronger, hungrier desperation. He leaned his chin on her knee, observing with a curious look as she intertwined her fingers with his. It was a weak attempt, but he seemed subdued. It was only for a brief moment.

“This is nice...” It reverberated through her legs, his Adam’s apple bobbing up against her kneecap. “But…” It came only a second later, however it sounded so much darker. It was such a heavy word, one laced with a sense of defeat, an apology. “I need more.” He’s fast, it only took a second before she was on top of him. Quickly propping her legs up around his waist and lifting, turning them around so she could sit firmly slotted in his lap. She knew not to struggle. He was still dangerous. Slender, but not without muscle. He was lanky and tall and above all else; devoted. There was no stopping him.

Her shoulders still grazed, although she tried to calm herself. For some reason she still didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Didn’t want to upset him. It didn’t take long before he disintegrated the hoodie, earning a tremor and a gasp from her. The feeling waved over him. He would have enjoyed it, but he was much too surprised to find yet another piece of clothing beneath. Surprised, only slightly disappointed. It was like unwrapping a present, he humored silently to himself.

He could tell it was best to go slow, in order not to break the shell. He didn’t want her to cry, and he was sure if he did too much too fast, she would almost certainly start bawling. Giving into simply brushing the now settled dust off her, yet quickly getting carried away. Digging his calloused fingers into the doughy flesh of her thighs, all very slowly, enjoying himself carefully. He was still getting used it, marveling at how she didn’t fall apart under his touch. Still, he wanted more, he needed more. He glid his hands up the sides of her waist and she started shaking. Trembling knees, caused trembling thighs and so on and so forth, and the feeling of her quaking against him felt nothing short of unhinging. His mouth watered and he had to swallow, trying his best to pace his breathing, failing however, it only made him sound that much more crazed.

“Tomura…” It was a small attempt at a protest, especially when he quite enjoyed the sound of his name drip so sweetly off her tongue. Anyone else with the same ambitions would probably have ignored it, but he wanted her to understand. To understand that she was more than a toy to him, that she was godsend. He didn’t want her hurt, he wanted something else. And that’s why he chose words.

“People die when I touch them.” He didn’t look into her eyes, not sure what would stare back at him. He didn’t want to see plead, or… he didn’t want to take pleasure in her pleading. “So, I’ve kept my hands to myself.” She wasn’t sure if he believed that his actions were justifiable. She wasn’t sure if it were himself or her he was trying to fool. “I haven’t touched anyone…” It sounded desperate. “Felt anyone…” It sounded broken. “For so long.” It was hard not to sympathize. It was hard to be angry at him. “I’ve stayed away.” She almost felt the urge to hug him. “Only touching people when its necessary.” If he’d given her just a few more days, then perhaps she would have. “I feel like I deserve this.” It came out hungry. It was raw and untamed and wrong.

The sympathy nearly vanished at that. It wasn’t her fault that he was like this. It wasn’t her burden, and yet here she was, like some sacrifice to a hungry god. Her hands pressured against his chest, in an obvious strive to make him release her. His hands tightened.

“Tomura, please…” Though he liked her voice, he didn’t care for her pleas. It wasn’t something he wanted to hear, because he was sure; if he tasted her begging just once, he was certain he’d find that he didn’t actually mind, that he… would rather enjoy it instead.

“It’s either this or something highly unpleasant.” His eyes met hers.

She was shocked at how fast his mood changed; like a child when you take away one of their toys or refuse to play with them. The first tear fell at that, his hand rose from its position to wipe it away, before he planted it back on her hip, rubbing the wetness onto her skin. Feeling like a pioneer of some sorts, having never done anything like it before.

“You know I’ve never bruised anyone.” His voice was different, wintry and empty. “Never made art on someone else’s skin.” It only got darker. “Not without them turning to ash…” His gaze fell back onto her hips, his fingers planting themselves more firmly into her. “I’ve never beaten anyone to a pulp.” His eyes seemed to partly stare at what purple galaxy he could make form under his nails. “They just up and disappear before I get the chance to.” On the other part he was staring into some unknown future; untapped desires, dark desires, violent desires. “I’ve never slapped anyone.” She braced herself, expected him to spank her. “Never felt anyone’s trembling skin.” She was positively trembling; she was quaking. “Never truly felt it.” He sounded desperate again. The icy tone was almost completely gone, turning yet again into something broken. “Not all of it.” It was only barely above a whisper. “Don’t you see?” His eyes were wide, full of something akin to ambition; hope? “You were made for me.” It wasn’t hope, it was resolution.

He kept burying his nails into her hips, so much it started to hurt. She got the feeling he was waiting for her to make a move, perhaps he was struggling to do so himself? And when she finally felt herself wincing at the pain, with his blood-red eyes digging into her soul, much like his fingers on her sides, she reached out and kissed him. Whimpering and leaning in closer, yet his fingers only barely relented. Her hands; limp at her sides, made to circle around his neck, softly entangling in his silvery locks. In the briefest moment she wanted to pull at it, drag him away from her, but she didn’t. She kept kissing, lightly sucking on his bottom lip. He moaned a strained groan, but his fingers only ceased their iron-grip when she pushed her chest flush against his. They then moved to her lower back, and then lower, finding their way down slowly, and squeezed at what they found down there, earning yet another whimper from her, although, when received by his mouth, much to his enjoyment, it sounded like a moan. He pulled her closer at that, grinding her against him. What she felt grind up against her, despite layers of fabric in between, scared her. His hands traveled again, this time upwards. Meeting her second shirt before there was no longer any shirt to meet, the cold air nipping at her exposed self.

As if shocked out of her state, she struggled again, but only for a moment. He was so fast. Before she even knew what was happening, she was firmly pinned beneath him, his hands locked around her wrists, tightening his hold until she gave him an apologetic look. He loosened them at that, but didn’t let go, not yet. Eyes flickering between hers and her lips, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin where her veins were stored on her wrists. He went in slowly, wanting her to half-initiate it herself, when she did without protest, without him threatening her, he lost it. Crashing into her, kissing, licking, biting as though he were starved. His hands moved with him, stroking down her arms tenderly, revering at the softness of what was found beneath his fingertips. She didn’t move her hands from above her head, didn’t know where to place them if she did.

He went exploring with his mouth. Down her neck, nipping at her collarbone. She expected his tongue to be dry like the rest of him, it wasn’t. Wet and sloppy; drooling was a better word for it. He left trails of himself down her chest. His hands, with steadily more and more added pressure, cupped one of her breasts, pinching and playing with the perky nib found there. His other hand got to work on disintegrating his pants, and then his shirt, and then nothing else was left to destroy. Except the bed, but he would break that in as well, in some other creative way. Her chest heaved more and more, frantically begging for more air; panicking. He decided to think of it as her wanting to get closer. He certainly was. Now that there was no more obstruction from his skin and hers, he struggled to not drop his entire weight onto her.

He wasn’t exactly sure what he was supposed to do, but ended up not thinking about it too much, settling for doing what he felt like doing. His hands groping, messaging, rubbing each breast. His tongue fluttering at how her perky nipple tickled him when he sucked and flicked over it. Her hands sprung forward to push him off when he bit too hard, though he caught them easily, pinning them down to her sides, deciding to ignore the act and continue with his exploration.

She started crying now, trying to keep quiet as much as she could, yet he heard the sniffles and tiny hiccups. He let go of her wrists again, watching as she gripped the sheets tightly, trying to hold back. Staring at the ceiling, studying the smooth, white surface. Thinking how her life no longer belonged to her.

It was strange, he was more bothered by the fact that he didn’t care whether she cried or not. Of course, he preferred it if she enjoyed herself too, but as long as he made the itchy feeling beneath his skin go away, he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty. As much as he wanted to be patient for her, he couldn’t wait any longer. Grabbing himself and placing the tip of his cock at her entrance.

“Tomura-” She protested, knowing how this couldn’t possibly be pretty. She wasn’t remotely wet, and he didn’t really seem about to assist with any moisture himself. But he couldn’t care more for her begging. Catching her wrists with one hand as he continued with what he was doing.

“I already told you-” He hissed, but she cut him off before he could threaten her a second time.

“Let me help.” Her voice was a soft kind of desperate. He’d been too frenzied to realize that she wasn’t really struggling or fighting him. Her large eyes found his in a feeble attempt to break through whatever craze he was in. Letting go of her wrists gave her the answer to her request. He sat up and she followed, crawling out from beneath him. About to grab her and place her back, he halted when he saw her coming back completely on her own volition. Her hands pressed softly against his chest, asking him to lower himself onto the pillows behind him. “Lie down.” And, although they were worded like demands, they didn’t sound that way whatsoever coming from her. He did what she said nonetheless, eyeing her every move, on high alert, ready to grab her if she were to run and lock herself in the bathroom. He was truly expecting anything else than her soft, warm and wet lips sliding down his cock in an almost loving fashion. Brows furrowed abruptly, mouth apart as he let out a long, shaky, gasping moan. Fingers stretching and curling into the sheets. Only barely keeping his wits with him to raise his pinky above the others, in order not to destroy whatever heaven he was in.

She’d placed herself between his thighs. On her knees with her ass raised up into the air, her head bowed and bobbing up and down on his shaft. Her hands supporting her on his stomach. Touching him. Like worship, he thought, looking down at her working hard to please him. With that thought simmering though his mind, he found the courage to ruffle his fingers through her hair. Refraining from adding any pressure, not assisting her in any way. He simply messaged and stroked and felt her eager movements on him. Heavenly sounds of sloshing and gurgling and slobbering and struggling filled the room as she continued going down, hollowing out her cheeks, running her tongue up and down, from side to side around him almost hungrily.

Toes curling into the sheets beneath him. Head thrown back onto the comfort of the pillows. He focused on the warm walls tightening around him, the wetness that slid up and down his cock, the tip of him pushing against her throat, begging to go deeper. He hadn’t meant it… how his hips jerked in the slightest attempt to push himself further down her throat. It was far from a real thrust, but it was no less noticeable. She took the hint, choking him all the way down to the hilt, feeling him bend down her throat. Gagging on him, her knees shifted, tempted to lie down on her stomach, tears gathering in the corners of her eyes, but she held back and kept sucking, with him all the way down her throat, until she finally let herself breathe.

Mesmerized by her sudden performance, his eyes glued onto her, delighted to see a string of drool connecting her lips to his cock when she tore away. It didn’t take long before she dove back in. Her one hand shifting from its place on his chest to fondle his balls, playing with them in her palm. Her tongue gliding up and down, licking the sides of him, giving each of his balls a suck and a kiss each time she went all the way down.

He was moaning and groaning fervently, his eyes nearly traveling all the way back into his skull. His toes cramping in their curled state. Being so lost in the moment. Before he even realized she had stopped, she’d placed her knees on the outside of either side of him. Her hand continuing to stroke him, with her other hand playing and messaging her own clit, preparing herself. She hovered above him. He started feeling cold upon the lack of contact, but the chill was soon replaced as he pushed inside her folds.

They moaned simultaneously this time. His was closer to a growl, whereas hers was more of a whimper. She sat there for a second, trying to get used to his length and size inside her, trying to make it all feel more comfortable, before she started riding. Slow, deep, heavy riding, letting the cock inside her hit every spot that had her nearly mewling. Bucking her hips forward, rolling onto him, with her hands once again placed on his chest. She couldn’t look at him, feeling so dirty and guilty for the building knot inside her stomach, the one that was now constantly teased by his large member inside her. She closed her eyes instead, not thinking of the circumstances, focusing on how insanely good it felt to be stretched out and filled to the very brink, despite not really wanting to think about it at all.

He, however, was staring at her as though it was the first time he ever truly saw anyone. He was so caught up in the moment, he’d forgotten about the deadly touch lingering in his fingers all together. So very spellbound by how her small, soft, delicate hands touched him, how her hair fell down her shoulders and tickled the skin on her breasts, how her brows had equally furrowed together as his own, how her lashes fluttered and lips parted even more with each beautiful moan that escaped them. He barely even registered how her hands picked his hands up and placed them on her hips for him so that he could rock her at his own tempo.

His grip didn’t tighten as she had suspected them to, they didn’t grope or poke as they did earlier. They hung loosely on top of her thighs, his thumbs stroking over her hips in encouragement of everything she was doing.

Placing her hands back on his stomach, she stroked up his chest and throat to lock her fingers in his silver hair. Her chest brushing up against his as she started kissing and sucking at his neck. Bracing herself by propping her feet up under her legs. Rocking her hips faster, no longer just rolling, but jumping up and down on her knees, all still rather graciously, done with somewhat expertise. He groaned at the sudden increase in tempo, his hands traveling on their own over her hips to grip at the plump flesh of her behind.

He knew he was much less experienced than her, but at least he knew what he wanted as well. Slowly getting over the surprise that had currently knocked him into shock and awe, he decided to gain more control. Especially now that he felt himself slip away and near his end. He pushed his thighs up, making her shift further up on him. She only moaned in response to him strapping his hands around her torso and lifting them both up into a sitting position, with her nuzzling perfectly in his lap. He ran his hands down her back and cupped her thighs, raising her up to tangle her legs around him. Now, sitting on his knees, he made to thrust into her and slap her back on his cock without her having any control over the new current of the motion.

He moaned savagely, feeling complete bliss befall him like a wave. She clung to him, actually clung to him for dear life, and it felt so fucking heavenly to feel her continue to nibble and suck and lick and kiss at the scars he’d created on his neck. With her arms wrapped around his back as though she couldn’t bear to let go. It was too much. She was too much. He couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t last any longer. He dropped her down onto the bed again, his cock slipping out and into his grip as he pumped the last few pumps it took before he came. Ropes of milky liquid sprouted from his cock and fell over her stomach, before he collapsed back onto her. His cheek pressed against her chest. Hot and heavy breaths brushed across her stomach. Drool slipping down from his mouth and onto her breast.

She didn’t dare move, despite feeling the wanton urge to touch herself until she as well peaked her orgasm. She remained still, or at least tried to, but it was hard when the fire within her stomach demanded attention. She tried to keep the quaking under wraps, but it was impossible. He hummed against her chest upon the feeling, it almost turned into a chuckle. He had clearly gained his confidence, acting all smug and cocky when he motioned his hand to rub at her clit. She jolted upon the touch, moaning and arching her back up against him. He kissed a quick trail down her stomach, everything sprawled out for him to see and touch as he so pleased. She was nearly begging when his eyes met hers. “Let me help you.” It was mockingly sweet, but she found she quite liked the sound of it. His thumb rubbing circles upon the sensitive spot, as he lowered his mouth to lick between the folds. She moaned brazenly, her fingers again tousling into his hair. He propped her one leg up over his shoulder, gaining more access.

She felt the pulsating, roaring, drooling sensation build and build until it nearly hurt, her hips lolling into him between her legs. His tongue running and delving into her, his teeth lightly and teasingly nipping at the tender flesh. Sucking until she let out that last earthshattering moan, her body convulsing in spasms and violent quakes. He gave a couple more licks to her clit and felt her panic beneath him, much to his enjoyment. He didn’t torture her oversensitivity for too long, before he climbed back up and nuzzled into her neck. Happy when he felt her fingers stroking his head again; affectionately.

No more words were exchanged. The presence of night laid thickly inside the room. The both of them unable to keep their lids open, not really fighting of the sleep that soon overwhelmed them either. Skin to skin. Heartbeat to heartbeat. They fell asleep soundly. And when Tomura woke up the next day, their limbs tangled together in one comfortable knot, he felt as though it might have been the very first time he actually felt rested.

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vibraniumwing · 4 years ago

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angst prompt: “being forced to kill your lover, but you can’t do it, so they take your hand, and help you press the knife into their chest, while the antagonist watches your every move, making sure neither of you try to run” </3 do whichever character you think fits!! I HAVE NO CLUE BC I’M CRYING RIGHT NOW 😃

that i lie with.

a sam wilson x reader wherein sam witnesses the one thing he feared the most on a mission.

WARNING: angst, mentions of blood, knife mention, stabbing, and death.

A/N: okay i hate writing angst for sam so this took me a long time to write but here (it absolutely destroyed me doing so) and i listened to the world caves in so it hurts even more; tissues aren't available as i have used them all up.

---

sam was silent and frozen in his place, hands clammy underneath the material of his new suit as his heart paced at a heightened speed at the sight before him; your body limp on the floor as the male he was tasked to hunt was sadistically smiling, a detonator in his grasp.

"come one, captain, make your choice." the criminal taunted, offering him the knife has he kicked your body once more, causing you to groan in agony. "it's either you killed the bitch who killed my best friend and ruined our plans or this whole vessel sinks to the bottom."

he was nauseous, unable to think rationally, "s-sam, go take the knife. please." you managed to cough out, voice gruff as your hand wiped the blood that came out of your mouth.

though hesitant, sam swiftly took the knife and ran to your side, taking you into this arms as the antagonist walked back to watch the scene unfold, "y/n, baby, hang on okay? redwing's just hovering above- i just need you to stick with me." was his whisper towards you, squeezing your frame gently.

"come on, captain, the clock is ticking." was the words that left the villain's mouth, his impatient footsteps heard through out the dark and eerie cockpit of the ship. "you make the decision; you save that bitch and everyone on this ship dies or you kill her."

sam was quiet on his end, pressured to make the right choice but you grabbed on to his hand that held the knife, "d-do it, sammy, come on." and pressed the metal tip towards your chest, right in front of your heart. "leave me here and go save the rest."

"n-no, i can't do it." he answered immediately, attempting to pull the knife further away from your but your grasp was strong. "n-not you, please, i've- i've already lost riley, not you as well, please."

"y/n, sam, we've got almost all of the hostages out of the ship, buy us a few more minutes to make sure." bucky's voice intercepted through both of your in-ears, making you look at sam once again with a knowing look.

"y-you have to sam, come on now." you begged, tears stinging your eyes as your demise was nearing. "i- i know this is a hard decision for you, but you can save a lot more lives; we'll meet again someday, i promise."

but sam was adamant, shaking his head as he pleaded, "no, baby, not like this, please. i- i don't know how i'll be without you." were his words, voice shaky as he tears started streaming down his face.

as weak and as frail as you were, your free hand reached up to flick away his tears, leaning upward to plant a soft kiss on his lips, "this is hard on me too, but i'm at peace knowing that i died in your arms, sam. i'm at peace knowing that i lie with you even in the afterlife."

"a minute, captain, or this whole ship dies with us." the outlaw threatened, eyes trained to the scene unfolding before him, a sickly laugh escaping his lips, "better make it quick, sammy" he mocked, boisterous as circled around the two of you.

"d-do it, sam, come on." you begged, now crying along with him as both of your hands were now circled around his hands, nodding as you gave him the final nod to do the action.

sam was weak, crying as he attempted to pierce your skin with the sharp object, shaking his head as he whispered, "i- i can't do it", head clouded as he couldn't even think straight anymore.

with one final squeeze on his hand, you helped him push the knife in your chest, making cry out in anguish at the pain you felt, breath running shorter than before as you started to feel nauseous, the oxygen in your body running short.

the laughter that came on the convict's end was exuberant, watching how you were slowly dying in sam's arms. "i thought you would never do it, captain america. too bad, you're still going to die." were the words that left his lips as he pressed on the detonator, the other end of the ship lighting up in a big explosion.

"now, redwing." was all that sam said, the drone shooting out a grapple that wrapped around the criminal's body and flew him out of the cockpit.

"everyone's off the ship! come out now!" bucky's voice came in through the in-ears again which you to slip back into consciousness, making you take a deep breath in as you took a hold of sam, feeling him lift you up and out of the ship and on to the air.

you managed to choke out a laugh, feeling the cool breeze tone down the heat that you were feeling due to the stab wound, your hand weakly holding on to his face, "y-you did good, sammy. i'm proud of you." you whispered, chest rising up and down as your body attempted to regulate the oxygen flow but you were quickly growing tired."

"it's time for me to go now." you said, losing the sense of your surroundings as your body started to grow numb, looking at sam with a sorrowful expression.

"n-no, baby, i can take you to the hospital, we can get you treated, please-" sam whispered, hugging you close to his body as he sped to the boat where bucky and the rest of the hostages were waiting, tears fogging up his vision.

"i'm sorry, sam." you whispered, planting a kiss on his cheek before resting your head on his shoulder, "i love you." as your took your final breath, falling into your eternal slumber.

sam was sobbing by the time he landed on the boat, his grim expression was enough for bucky to not ask any questions and commanded everyone to make space for your lover to lay your body down on the deck of the boat.

he kissed your forehead gently, hugging you close to him, "i love you too, baby. i love you too."

---

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to those whose urls are in bold, i can’t tag you for some reason. join my taglist! it’s in my main main masterlist <3

#vea answers #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x y/n #sam wilson x you #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fics #sam wilson imagine #sam wilson imagines #sam wilson one shot #sam wilson fanfic #sam wilson angst #captain america #the falcon #marvel #mcu #marvel x reader

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leftonraed · 4 years ago

Text

The Night We Met - Prologue

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count : 1.7k Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7

The show was a great success. A chant of his name resonates in the huge stadium, crowded out as he’s bowing a second time to the thousands of lightsticks shaking in the darkness like fireflies dancing and set to burn down the starry night they composed.

Moved, he raises his arm to wave to those luminous spots so precious to him, making sure not to miss any while his heart is swelling with pure bliss and his throat grows tight. He reluctantly ends up walking towards the back of the stage and positions himself on a squared shape platform which slowly takes him down at the same time the lights dimmed one last time tonight.

Members of the crew who’ve been waiting for him begin surrounding him as soon as he steps off the small platform and heads to the dressing room. Signs of fatigue are showing but he doesn’t forget to give smiles and thank yous when they congratulate him while removing his microphone set, handing him a water bottle and wiping his sweat.

He blindly reaches the hall leading to his backstage room secured by a couple of bodyguards present, it isn’t his first time in this concert venue but he’s obliged to halt when he notices his manager staring back, displaying not the slightest sign of pride or gladness.

He picks up his march towards her with a hint of confusion. Her frowning is looking less threatening now that he’s a few inches from her but her body seems to tense when he reaches for the handle.

“What’s wrong?” He drops first, eying her back while she uncrosses her arms.

“There’s a woman inside with a child who’s been begging the whole staff to get to talk to you.”

“What?” Not quite the reception he was expecting from her to say the least.

Her brow twitches at his lighthearted tone. He instantly grasps she’s not messing with him and doing her best to keep her voice low. “If you have something to tell me, I suggest you do it now, Taehyung.”

“Hwiin, I-” He chuckles not believing what he’s hearing. His frowning deepens when she still doesn’t flinch. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I really don’t have the energy to argue right now. Did you talk to her?” He suggests, trying to reason.

“No, I don’t want to have anything to do with her.” She spits, offended. “How can you not- recall her when she clearly claims to know you?” She snaps gesturing towards the door. “Now’s not the time for a scandal of any type. Far too many people know about the issue she caused already.”

People are busy around them, coming and going to get everything cleaned up while they both seem stuck in this silent staring game. He remains awfully quiet, not having quite a clue as to what to say back to have her not doubting him or assuaging her and it makes her this close to losing it.

“Maybe we should go inside?” He offers in a soft voice, clueless about the reason she’s so adamant to stew over it. She rolls up her eyes while brushing past him to get inside the room first.

He barely has had the time to catch sight of the said woman that Hwiin reminds him of her presence and even more so of her annoyance.

His puzzlement is all the more unmistakable, especially after he’s noted the toddler’s likeness to someone close to him. His gaze returns to the female stranger. She surely isn’t past her mid-twenties. She looks lost and her eyes are filled with so much hopelessness, it becomes disturbing.

“Hi,” he smiles invitingly, not allowing any tension to build. “I’m Taehyung. I heard you were looking for me?”

She nods carefully, not moving an inch on the couch where she’s sitting as if not to hinder the child in her arms while looking back and forth between him and his manager’s dark look.

“How can I help you?”

“I-I’m sorry I disturbed you and caused so much trouble,” she eventually says. “But-,” she fetches for something in her bag at her feet and the little girl stirs in her slumber, revealing her face.

“Hina?” Taehyung feels his heartbeat picking up and any previous sign of fatigue that has seemed to gain him are now long forgotten at her sight. He walks closer to her.

Hwiin furrows her brows at his back. The woman displays relief upon hearing the girl’s name, satisfied to finally see one thing go right.

“Whe- where’re her parents?” His eyes can’t look away from her tiny face nestled against her chest.

The stranger opens her hand to show a piece of paper. “They went out earlier in the evening. They should have been home an hour ago. I was asked to call this number in case they wouldn’t answer their phone, and or go to these addresses.”

He takes it from her and Hwiin shortens the space between her and them to peek past his shoulder. There are his personal phone number, the concert venue and his penthouse addresses.

Her gaze moves to study the child’s face and her expression shifts to a worried one. After a few seconds, she looks up at him. “Who is she, Taehyung?”

The last bits of euphoria have vanished in the blink of an eye and left behind, instead, heavy presumptions.

“My niece,” he answers gravely.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The pleasant purring of the black range rover running is the sole disruption in the quietness of the empty streets. Inside, the drive back home is uncomfortably silent for Hwiin. She feels terrible about her outburst. She knows he’d never be angry with her for that. She still wants to apologize but everytime she glances in the rear-view mirror, Taehyung still looks lost in thought.

As much as Hwiin values family bonds, she’d rather do without. Everything has been going perfectly great for her artist and now it all seems uncertain. How could he combine a demanding career and a very young child? How is she supposed to support him? She’d never ask him directly to somehow resolve this issue because she knows what he’d do. If he were to choose between the two, he’d opt for his niece in a heartbeat as painful as that reality comes off. The past seven years they spent together wouldn’t stand a chance when it comes to Taehyung.

His stare is glued on the night scenery. He doesn’t know what to think. His life’s just been shaken up by the tiny being cradled in his arms. That woman, who claimed to be Hina’s babysitter, had resorted to him as her solution like her employer, his brother, had instructed her to. His heart which has just been full of sheer happiness and gratefulness is now weighed down by so many questions and an unsettling foreboding.

He feels his shirt bunching and being pulled on; he looks down, weary.

“Dad-dy...”

Prickly tears blur his vision at the innocent call Hina makes in her sleep, unaware. He tightens his hold around her as a way to comfort himself.

“We’re here,” his manager softly announces while turning the wheel in the building parking lot. She pulls over near the elevator. Taehyung does his best to open the door, grab his back while safely carrying his niece before getting out. Hwiin hurries to give him a hand only to be politely refused.

She observes him quietly with mixed feelings as he simply stands there, gently brushing the little girl’s strands out of her face. She’s never taken the time before imagining what he’d look like as a father. It hasn’t been part of her plan. His greasy hair falls in his eyes, hiding his face. The man facing her seems somewhat unfamiliar.

She feels guilt creeping within her chest. “Taehyung I-”

“Don’t bother coming here unless I say so,” he cuts off looking at her with a weak smile. “I think I need some time to sort it all out.”

“Of course,” she pauses, fleeing his gaze. He’s always trying to lighten up the mood, she thinks. “I was wondering if you’d need me up there.”

“Go home. You should rest.”

She pouts a little, she’s already got her hooks into him and she hasn’t even awakened yet. Taehyung rarely rejected her for anything in the past. She innately feels the need to argue but relinquishes. It’s different now, she accepts.

He’s appreciative of her comprehension. He doesn’t like telling her he prefers to be alone for now. He’ll need every bit of his energy.

“You know you just have to call.”

They quietly pull apart. He gets in the elevator and she starts the engine once the doors come together.

His mind is empty the whole time it takes for the elevator to bring him to his apartment. He drops his bag on the floor, biting his lip when a curse wants to slip out because of the noise it makes. He suddenly realizes he doesn’t have somewhere appropriate for her to sleep in. Taehyung naturally settles for his bedroom and wonders how he should arrange the beddings to make it as safe and comfortable as possible for a two year-old.

He manages to undo the sheets and grab a pillow with one hand before he gently lays her in. it’s a miracle she hasn’t woken up already. Standing still beside the bed, Taehyung stares at her in the darkness; he wants to do more when he’s done what is needed. He wonders whether he should get her nearer the middle of the mattress, he can’t think of anything to keep her from falling off.

After long minutes, he eventually thinks there’s nothing more left to do and leaves to shower. He lets the door open and makes it as quick as possible. He comes back to find her curled up on herself. It’s only once he’s under the sheets, right next to her side that he remembers his phone. The thought of joining the outside world again seems unappealing and he thinks it would only make him anxious.

He brings his focus back on Hina, blinking slowly until he gets pulled in a dreamless sleep as well.

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Feedback greatly appreciated :B Reblog if you wish to read more

#taehyung smut #taehyung scenarios #Taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts smut #bts scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts fanfic #taehyung x oc #bts reactions #bts imagines

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jean-does-not-have-a-horseface · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request how did I get so lucky with Levi? Please and thank you!😁

I really wrote hurt/comfort just like that once again i-

I really really loved writing this one, it's very different from a lot of things I've written before, I hope you like it

Warnings: none really, two Kuchels tho but I made sure you won't mix them up

Pairing: Levi/ reader

Tags: Modern au, hurt/comfort, daddy Levi strikes again

Caramel Apple

Levi's foot blocks the sleek vandyke brown door from opening more than a few inches. Your eyes flicker between him and in the interior, begging to get a glimpse of the very reason you find yourself at his door again but his mascular form doesn't allow you to see much, only the shadow of his black leather couch and a few grey and copper tiles from the fireplace. It only makes you sigh in frustration as your anger starts to boil inside of you.

You've always been adamant about never entering his home again and even though you're never about to break the rules you've set for yourself tonight feels like the last straw of your sanity has been pulled. Levi is purposely not offering you to get inside, counting on the fact that you won't ask for permission to enter anyways.

"Levi, seriously, I just want to see Kuchel." Your eyes glint with anger as you speak to him in a steady tone, trying to cover your anger in such a fake way.

His choice of words though never seems to mind your tormenting patience as he lifts the words slip off of the tip of his tongue "None can do for this weekend, I'm sorry!"

"What?" Your eyes widen, your hands slightly shake "Levi I haven't seen my daughter in a week!"

It's only natural of you to demand to see your little girl. For a week now Levi has been calling you back to back, every single night, announcing to you that Kuchel wanted to stay with him, that she misses him and that she won't stop crying at the hearing of having to part ways with her father. And even if the slight rejection of your motherhood by the five year old hurt you to the core you knew much better than to try and part the two. Your break up had indeed tortured her pour little soul; she was lost between having to stay at two different houses she was forced to adjust to two separate lifestyles and her attachment to her after was getting the best of her. She didn't even want to go to school if it wasn't Levi driving her there. You could only comply to her wishes.

"It's not my fault you have dates to go to." He never gives you a chance to reply though as his eyes bore into yours with the faintest tint of mischief. "I have the weekend off so I'm taking Kuchel to Disneyland."

Between wondering whether this was too far fetched and thinking about what clothes to pack for Kuchel, Levi felt panicked. His stoic mask didn't let him show any regards towards your barely visible face, but inside his heart sank to his stomach, leaving him feel numb.

It was the first time in the two years that you had broken up that he had ever done something so selfish to you. So far he had been the perfect co parent, picking up Kuchel almost everyday to drop her at her pre school, always making sure that your days with your daughter were arranged evenly. Overall there has been nothing you could negatively accuse him for and he's so proud of the profile he has kept.

In the last month he's been feeling so conflicted internally that it's become unbearable. He's been through miserable, never ending nights feeling alone and abandoned. You wouldn't bring yourself to understand, he knows that very well, so telling you is off the table. Though there nights he wants you and his daughter by his side, there are mornings he wants to wake up and see the two of you cuddled on the other side of the bed just like once before.

"I'm really going to have to ask you to leave." The sound of his tongue clicking is louder than the words that leave his mouth. As his eyes stare into yours with an unreadable feeling plastered on them you can feel that anger, the one that has been boiling in your stomach for so long, staring to eat away your insides. "Kuchel is asleep and I don't want her sleep disturbe-"

Your jaw drops and your words refuse to let go off your tongue. Any hopes of trying to remain civil tonight have been thrown out of the window because you're simply not having it. There's not much you can do from standing behind his front door though. No begging will ever even convince him to let down his guard and he'd be right. That was part of the reason you wouldn't enter his house amymore nonetheless.

"I miss my baby Levi, you're being so unfair!Doesn't Kou miss me?"

Levi flinches at the nickname. There's a restrain in his heart that won't allow him to speak of anyone in nicknames ever again and you're at fault, because every little thing in his life screams your fucking name and he despises it. Nowadays it's only him and Kuchel that seem to be on the same side.

"Her name is Kuchel."

He's so cynical that you might let out that salty tear -the one your left eye has tried so hard to push back- run down your cheek and stain your face. You can only endure so much refusal to see your baby's face. Her tiny voice in nowhere to be heard, her angelic face nowhere to be seen and you want to breakdown.

Why should Levi care, you're still puzzled as to why. The way you've treated him lately has been so brutal and he doesn't deserve it, you know he doesn't although your demons don't take anyone and anything into consideration. The small bleak of the door is symbolic to you, it's a gesture that he doesn't want to let you in, but he allows you to have a small leak of his grayscale paradise.

You shouldn't be in a place to beg with him since you are in the wrong. Kuchel isn't a doll that the two of you should play with, she's a lovely little girl with very real emotions who's trying to comprehend yours and Levi's bullshit. Your bullshit.

If Levi had it his way, you knew he'd keep Kuchel as far from you as he could and Kuchel would agree without a second thought.

Between his loud growls and your sobbing imitations you manage to wake Kuchel up for her peaceful slumber. Her little raven head peaks from the corner of the leather couch, hair sleek despite her sleeping position. It makes you groan how much she looks like him at every aspect of her life, personality and appearance alike. It is as if he had birthed her out of his womb, not you.

Maybe that is part of the reason you feel so strained away.

Or maybe it iss her unforgiving gaze that is identical to her father's.

She doesn't exactly sparkle when she sees you but you attribute that to her only having just woken up. A little fist rubs on her closed eye lid, sweeping a few eyelashes away. Levi makes sure to pick them up from her cheek when he takes her in his arms.

"Hey mommy!"

Her enthusiasm seems to grow on her as her eyes gradually open. You hadn't seen her face in a long, agonising week, her sight made you week to your knees.

"Hey baby, ready to go home?" You beam, pushing the tears away.

"No!" She pouts "Daddy will take me to Rapunzel's castle tomorrow!"

To her it was such a big deal. The promise to see her favorite princess and her prince, to fight the most evil Gothel with her squeeky little voice, it all excited her way too much. Although you're in no place to ruin their fun -Levi has the right to spend his time with Kuchel however he pleases- but you have to admit it hurts. A lot.

Wanting to go to Disneyland was your most vivid childhood dream. The scenery had always fascinated you, there were so many things you had always wanted to do. And Levi had promised, while he was driving you to the hospital once your water had broke, that he'd take you along with Kuckel.

You open your mouth to speak but words never really come out as you take your defeat in. Your heart's sinking, your knees want to give up on supporting your whole weight but just as you're about to collapse two familiar voices catch your attention.

"Oi runts, what's with the commotion?"

"Kenny! Be a little kinder, hey love!"

Your face suddenly drops lower than it's ever possible. In panic you wonder if staying still will guard you from the sights of Kenny and Kuchel, but you're absurdly reminded that could never be the case.

"Im here to pick Kou up." You whisper, ashamed to look any of the Ackermans in their eyes. They really had you cornered like a rat now.

"Ah, aren't you guys going to Disneyland this weekend?" Kuchel smiles as she greets you with eagerness.

At this point Levi is forced to open the door. It's only rude to keep his family standing in the hallway of his apartment complex because you're in the midst of having a small fight. You're not sure if you want to get in, though, he never allows you to.

"It's only me and Kuchel, mom. What made you think (y/n) was coming?"

Kenny huffs at the words, clicking his tongue in annoyance. "Trouble in paradise?" He rightfully earns a death glare from his sister. His legs shot up on the coffee table, catching Levi's attention. Your little girl mumbles something about the table turning dirty once again and Levi agrees, sparing her the tiniest of smugs.

"Look (y/n)," the ravenette's attention turns to you once again "I think you should go, were flying early tomorrow, I promise I'll make up for this whole week someway."

With gloom in your eyes you turn on your feet, ready to storm off of the hallway, and down to the elevator. If you're not wanted here then it's fine. With a kiss on little Kuchel's forehead, you tuck her strands behind her ear and whisper a soft goodnight to her. Levi's door closes too fast, too sharp, too humiliating to your person and at this, you can't help but finally breakdown. Your legs don't even drag you to the end of his hallway. With your back against the nearest wall you collapse, hit tears making their appearance on the corners of your eyes.

"Don't be a little bitch Levi, your brat is not a doll you two pass to eachother, in case ya didn't notice." Inside the apartment Kenny's words sting like a thousand yellowjackets launching onto Levi's skin, but only because the old man speaks the truth. He keeps the arrogant comment about the language that should be used around his daughter to himself, he's eager to listen what his mother had to say on the situation.

"I still don't even know the reason you're not together anymore."

He doesn't either. He can't bring himself to remember the exact reason you had fallen apart or why you had acted to cold towards him two months ago. In a haze, that's probably only for the worst he pops Kuchel into Kenny's uninviting arms and picks up a shift space with his matching.

If he's surprised by your vulnerable position on the hallway he doesn't ever show. His twitching eyebrows betrays the tint of worry in his expression but your trembling lip doesn't allow you to utter words just yet. It'd only when he swoops to your level, knees touching the cold tiles of the floor while his eyes look directly in your face. His calloused hand comes to bed your cheek in order to provide you some sort of comfort for your exhausted head and to wipe a salty tear with his thumb. He isn't ever really soft like that, but you come to believe it's been so long without him that you've forgotten about his compassionate side.

"How did I get so lucky to be loved by someone like you, and how was I so stupid to make us go through this?"

Your words are hurting you more than you want to admit to. It's unfair, how you want to come undone, how time and space cease to exist in the moment, how you don't feel like you can keep your heart's insides to yourself.

"Im so sorry I left that morning but I was so, so afraid." You continue.

It was no secret. That particular night you had shared two months ago, wrapped in his sheets like old times had sparked so many flames or reconciliation between the two of you. Be it that it was you who showed up at his door or him that took you in, be it that you did this because you missed every tiny aspect of him that it was overwhelming. You can't even pinpoint a reason as to why the two of you were so natural together. But you have thrown your only chance away. And he won't even let you in his home.

"I was too, beats me as to what I would have done if I was in your place." His voice is tinted in melancholy but paradoxically his steel orbs never once fall from yours. "But I've spent so much time being mad at you that I can't even remember why im feeling this way in the first place."

Your hand shoots to his chest, only to grab at his plain gray crewneck in an attempt to pull him closer, close enough that your foreheads collide. Onyx shaggy strands engulf your vision as your heavy breaths mingle and your thoughts are finally able to come through mouth.

"Who are you and what have you done to the Levi I know." A muffled giggle comes out of your cries and a blink-and-you'll-miss-it smug appears on Levi's face. It catches you by surprise, the way his face lots up from only just a second is an image you've tried you convince yourself to forget but your mind always finds a way to come back to it.

His hand comes to rest on your nape, trapping the hair underneath his grip as he leans to give a kiss to your forehead.

"We'll talk about everything with caramel poisoned apples with Kuchel alright?" Your eyes lit up at his statement, glistening tears threatening to fall once again from your eyes. "Tch, don't look at me like that of course I bought three tickets."

You miss the way his eyes widened as you engulf him tightly in your arms, closing the painful space that had been separating you up until a few seconds ago. Maybe you won't kiss just yet, this isn't a lust filled moment. It's a moment of putting a new brick at that wall of trust you had wrecked a few years ago. With that inevitable fate and love that brought you back to eachother no matter what and a lot of patience the two of you are going to make it work. No excuses this time.

Was this short, was this enough? I honestly don't know I enjoyed this one because for once I figured the ending as I went along. Reading your guys comments makes me feel really good so if you want to drop a comment (or a request) don't be shy. Thanks for reading, it means a lot💞

#attack on titan #levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #snk x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #captain levi #x reader #reader insert #levi heichou

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years ago

Text

Four Eighths

Pairing: Four x Eight (reader) Word Count: 4.5K+ Warnings: Little bit of language, some angst, overall nothing too major this chapter *Disclaimer, Hey, so it’s been a while since I updated this.... I don’t really have an excuse other than that the creative juices just weren’t there I suppose. Plus I started a new job recently, which is awesome, but also rather tiring! But hey, here’s a new chapter! Hope you all enjoy!

Chapters One Two Three Four Five Six Seven and Eight can all be found here!

Chapter Nine: Call me by my name

Waking up wrapped in Four’s arms was both an unfamiliar feeling, whilst also an exceptionally welcome one. By the time you had finally fallen asleep, you could see sunlight breaching the horizon, dawn well on its way to greeting the waking world. And while others would begin to awaken and start their days, you and Four closed the curtain to the pale oranges and pinks painting the sky, turning your backs on the idea of a new day. A new day which held nothing but uncertainty and fear. Though a new day none the less.

In all the ways you had imagined waking up following last night, the way in which you did so had never once crossed your mind. Four had his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, as he cradled you against his chest, his chin resting atop your head. You woke slowly, vaguely aware of Four’s quiet, sleepy murmuring above you, though that in itself was not what woke you. No, instead, what greeted you was the odd sound of something hitting the small window above your bed. At first, you thought perhaps it was an incessant insect which was adamant the way in, or out for that matter, was through the closed window. Rolling over so you now lay on your back, you waited a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the bright light which streamed through your trailer. Gazing up, you noticed a shadow beyond your curtain, a shadow far bigger than that of an insect. “What the hell?” You whisper, earning a tired grunt from Four in reply.

You roll your eyes, smirking softly as you carefully peel his arms away from your naked waist, resting them back on the bed in the warmth where you had been laying. You move slowly and carefully, making sure to not disturb Four’s slumber during your investigation. Carefully, you move up onto your knees, before pulling up onto your feet, standing on your toes so you can see out of the small window. Pulling the curtain aside, you have to stifle a scream at what, no, who you see.

Standing bellow your window, holding a fistful of small rocks is Five, who looks awfully pleased with herself. Your eyes lock with her chocolate ones, and despite seeing you, she throws yet another rock against your window, smirking up at you. “What the hell?” You mouth at her, unsure as to whether she could make out your words or not.

Her sparkling eyes and crooked grin say yes, but her next move screams no. “Get up! We need our fearless leader!” She screams, and there’s no doubt that every single person at base could hear her.

You glare down at her, stumbling backwards as Four flies up into a sitting position, hair a tangled mess of golden curls and shinning eyes darting around like a startled animal. “What’s going on?” He demands, eyes landing on yours, as you grip the curtain to prevent yourself from falling. If Five were still looking, she would’ve received an eyeful of an exceptionally nude you. You pray she had turned away.

Slowly, you lower yourself back to the bed, crawling your way back underneath your blankets. Four is still on high alert, but you pay him no mind, whishing instead that you could rewind the clock to five minutes ago, when the outside world was nothing but a distant memory. “Are you going to explain what just happened, or do I have to guess?” Four finally asks, slithering back down the mattress and curling his body around yours.

“I’ll tell you, but I’m interested to hear what your theories are first.” You giggle, rolling onto your side, and combing your fingers through his hair.

He pauses for a moment, eyes squinting as he contemplates his answer. “You thought aliens had crash landed and you wanted to see for yourself, but were too scared to actually leave the trailer to see?” He blinks up at you, a grin worming its way onto his lips.

“Well I mean, how far from Area 51 are we actually?” You tease, playing along with his stupidity.

“Oh, Area 51 is all a lie. Area 52 is where the aliens are!”

You lift a brow, scrutinizing his words. “Oh? And where is Area 52 then, hm?”

“Right here. We are the aliens!” He grins, wrapping his arms around you again, and tickling his finger down your sides.

You gasp out a squeal, laughter pealing from your lips as he tickles you relentlessly. “No! Stop it! Don’t!” You giggle, wriggling and squirming beneath his touch. He rolls over you, hovering above you in a strong hold plank position, his hand poised at the side of your stomach. “Mercy! Please have mercy!” You beg, tears of joy sprinkling your cheeks.

He leans down, pressing the first gentle kiss you had experienced from him, against your lips. He doesn’t linger, not allowing it to turn into anything more, not yet at least. “I’ll have mercy. But only because you asked so nicely.” Carefully, he slides away from you, laying back on his side beside you. “Really though. What was that all about?” He whispers, turning his gaze up to the window for a moment, before returning to you.

You let out a soft sigh, rolling onto your side too so to face him. “How well can Five keep a secret?”

“Just as well as any of us. It’s part of the job.” He offers, doing his best to shrug in his current position.

“That’s not quite what I meant. I think – I think she knows about us. Or at the very least about what we did last night.”

There’s a pause, the air seeming to go perfectly still between you both. There’s no outside sounds, and all you can hear is the sound of your breathing. “Oh, right.”

“Yeah.” You offer with a sympathetic smile.

“She won’t say anything. At least not to anyone who’ll actually try to do something about it, like One.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, she’ll probably give us hell for the next couple of months at least. And I would be surprised if she hasn’t told Three yet.”

“What if One finds out? I know how much shit he gives Two and Three!”

Four takes your hand in his, squeezing your fingers gently within his. “Don’t worry. He’s all talk, but no action. Two and Three have been sleeping together for like, six months now. He hasn’t done anything about it!”

You breathe a sigh of relief, squeezing his fingers back softly, feeling a wave of relaxation wash over you. He was right, One was good at talking a big game, but more often than not, he never followed through with his threats. With a soft sigh, you press your face against the pillow, squeezing your eyes tightly shut to block out the few rays of sun which dared to invade your vision. “We need to go.” Your voice is muffled by the pillow, but you’re positive Four had heard you.

“Do we have to?”

At this you look up, your eyes searching for his sparkling ones for a brief moment. “Yeah, we do. That’s what Five was here about. Our final briefing is supposed to start right about-” You pause, hold out your arm and peer down at your wrist, squinting at the watch which wasn’t there. “Now.”

Four looks just as disappointed as you feel, however shows no signs of voicing his feelings, at least not now anyways. With a disgruntled groan, you roll away from Four, your feet planting firmly on the floor before you hoist yourself up. The remnants of alcohol left in your system make for the room to spin just slightly for a moment or two, before righting itself. As you walk towards the small chest of drawers where you keep clothes, you toe at Four’s shirt, which at been discarded on the floor last night. There’s no avoiding the grin which snakes across your lips, as you bend down to retrieve it, balling it up and tossing it over your shoulder to the slow-moving blonde. “I think I might have a sweater that’ll fit you if you want?”

Four yawns from the bed, muttering under his breath about how much he doesn’t want to get up, though you pay him little attention, certain that if he were speaking directly to you, he would say so. “Why would I need new clothes?”

As you rummage through one of the drawers, you throw a weary gaze over your shoulder, rolling your eyes for dramatic effect. “Well, if you rock up to the briefing wearing the exact same clothes you had on last night, people will be suspicious!”

You could see in his glistening eyes, that he really couldn’t care less as to what the team thought of him, however after a moment of thought, he appeared to have a slight change of heart. “If you have something I could wear, that’d be good.”

Smiling softly, you dig down to the bottom of the middle drawer, producing a charcoal black sweatshirt before throwing it over to Four. While he tugs the garment over his head, you busy yourself with buttoning up a fresh pair of jeans, and performing the sniff test on a long-sleeved shirt. Upon deeming its smell unoffensive, you hurriedly put it on. Turing on the spot your eyes travel to Four, and you can barely hold back the laughter bubbling in your chest. In the centre of this sweatshirt, in bold white lettering reads ‘Team Jacob’. You knew exactly what the shirt said when you had given it to him, and it wasn’t your fault Four didn’t look at it before putting it on! Chewing on your bottom lip to hold back your smirk, you stride over to Four, who was busy rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. “You ready for this?”

He blinks rapidly across at you, eyebrows rising in surprise at your question. “I am, yeah. Are you?”

That was the real question wasn’t it? Were you ready for this? Were you prepared to give everyone their marching orders, and potentially see your entire team killed? “Only one way to find out.”

*****

Despite Five having awoken you, somehow you and Four were still the first to arrive to the briefing room, though it’s not long before the others slowly shuffle in. One was nursing a mug of pitch black coffee, while Three was rocking a pair of dark sunglasses, whether out of necessity or aesthetic you weren’t quite sure. Seven was marginally better off, though the bags beneath his eyes seemed to show he hadn’t slept well. Two and Five however were way too chipper for two people who should’ve been dealing with hangovers, but yet there they were, looking as flawless as ever. You made a mental note to ask Five if she had some Doctors secrets on treating a hangover. “So I see Four has decided to make a political statement today…” Five smirks, her eyes trained to his sweater. She was the first to mention anything, however now, Four had five pairs of eyes glued to his chest, while you looked away to keep yourself distracted.

“Wh- what d’you mean?” He grumbles, brows creasing into a frown as he grips the hem of the sweater, pulling it away from his waist so to see what everyone was staring at. The colour drains out of his cheeks as he reads, then rereads the words, and you just know he’s already plotting his revenge on you. “Eight…” He growls lowly, and you can feel his eyes boring holes into your skull beneath his stare.

“I didn’t do anything! How could I have? It’s your shirt after all!”

Five chuckles, deciding to play along in this little game of yours. “Aw come on Four, there’s nothing to be ashamed of! Granted I’m more of a team Edward myself, but we’re all allowed our own opinions!”

“This isn’t my shirt.”

“Then whose is it?” Three teases, waggling his brows suggestively.

A deep crimson blush creeps up along Four’s neck and cheeks, and you know he’s wishing for the ground to open up bellow him and swallow him. Finally, you turn and meet his glare, puckering your lips and blowing him a teasing kiss. He has nothing to say, there’s nothing he could say that wouldn’t clue everyone in as to where the shirt had come from, and under what circumstances. “It’s mine.” He concedes, earning a hearty laugh from the entire team. You’ll pay for this little prank, you just know it.

“Right then, now that we’ve established that Four was a Twihard, shall we get down to the real reason we’re all here?” One says, placing his mug down on a table, and motioning for you to join him up the front of the room.

Everyone makes themselves comfortable, or at least as comfortable as possible on plastic folding chairs. You step up beside One, folding your hands together behind your back, and curling your fingers together. You don’t quite know what you’re waiting for, but a part of you thinks that perhaps One will take the reigns on this one, and do all the talking. That however is not the case, not since you took over for this mission at least. You clear your voice with a cough, both stalling and preparing yourself at the same time. “Right, so as One said in the initial introduction last month, we know where the Lushnick’s are. They’ve set up in Noumea New Caledonia. It’s a popular tourist destination for many cruise liners, however that is the local’s main source of income, tourism. There are people who live there who are desperate for medical attention, and as per usual, the Lushnick’s are promising to help these people, but not in the way a reputable Doctor would.”

“So we’re going to the South Pacific then are we?” Seven calls from the back of the room, arms folded across his chest as he watches you intently.

“Yes, those of you who have never visited the Country before will be going. Has anyone been before?” You look around at everyone, though all heads shake no. “Right, so there we have it, we’re all going to the South Pacific.” Turning to the computer beside you, you log in and bring up the plans you and One had come up with, displaying them on the projector for the team to see. Once an image of the island displays, you step away from the computer. “This is Noumea, at the very back of the island here.” You gesture to the map. “Is where the Hospital the Lushnick’s run, is set up. According to all inspections and accreditations, the hospital is up to standard and there are no concerns, at least not with the government, or with health departments.”

Leaning back over, you pull up the blueprints to the hospital itself. “This of course, is our main target. The Lushnick’s will be here, we just need to find them, and get rid of them.”

This time it’s Three who speaks up. “Is the goal to kill the Lushnick’s, or capture them so they can answer for their crimes?”

You pause at this, the moral response would be to agree with the latter option, however you know that if you were to find the Lushnick’s, then it would be the former. You turn to One, your eyes pleading for back up from him. “The aim is to capture them.” He declares, though there is a spark of recognition that passes through the entire team. If the need arises, kill them, no questions asked.

You close your eyes for a moment, breathing deeply before returning to your task. “So here’s the plan. One way or another, we all need to be in that hospital, there will be no one on the outside for this mission. One and Two, you’re new Doctors to the hospital, One you’ll be assigned to A&E and Two, you’ll be headed to the women’s and children’s ward.”

“Why isn’t Five one of the Doctor’s too?” Seven queries, looking between you and her.

Five answers for you, having had this exact same conversation with you only a week earlier. “It’s too much of a risk. surgeons move around all the time, I can’t risk being recognised if there is a surgeon I’ve previously worked with. It would jeopardize the whole mission.” Seven nods his understanding, and all attention is back to you.

“Five will be head wardsman for paediatrics. It has come to our understanding the Lushnick’s have developed a particular interest in healing women and children, so those will be our main bases to cover. Three, congratulations, you’re now working in the kitchens, and will be delivering meals to patients. And Seven, you’ll be a security officer, patrolling the wards we believe the Lushnick’s will be in. That way you can trail them.”

You turn your attention to Four now, he vaguely knew what his role in this mission would entail, but you had kept most of the details to yourself, until now. If all went according to plan, Four would be face to face with the Lushnick’s. “Four, you’ll be getting admitted to A&E with a severe migraine, this is where One will come in, he will help build your story and keep the act going.” You bite down on your lower lip, meeting Four’s gaze for just a moment longer than necessary, though it did help to calm your nerves. “I’ll be head of security. This will allow me access to the hospital’s computer systems, their security cameras, and I’ll be able to get you guys anywhere within the hospital.”

“How will you be head of security? Surely there’s already someone in that position?” Four asks, brows creased in confusion. This was something you hadn’t thought to mention to him, though then again, up until last night you hadn’t been anything more than flirtatious friends, and there had been no reason to inform him…

“I’ll be arriving in Noumea before you all.”

“How much before?”

You fold your arms across your chest, meeting Four’s intense gaze. “Two weeks before you. I leave this afternoon. I’ll be removing the current head of security, and taking his place. I’ll spend my time there before you arrive, becoming acquainted with the hospital, and sorting out the logistics for you to all begin working.” You pause for a moment, waiting to see if Four will say anything more, though for now he seems to just be listening. “We will all be arriving in instalments. One and Seven will arrive three days after I do, and will begin working the following day. Five, two days after them. Three and Seven one day after her, and Four you’ll be arriving twelve days after I do.”

“Wait, why am I arriving after everyone? What good will I be to you all arriving that late?” Four demands, standing now with his arms folded across his chest. You had expected him to dislike this plan, hell even One had warned you of exactly this happening, but as per usual, you hadn’t listened.

You meet Four’s gaze head on, standing strong against him. “Your cover for this mission, is as a tourist. You’re just there visiting the island, and will happen to fall unwell while there. We can’t have everyone arrive on the same day, it would look too suss. Having you arrive last should keep you in the clear, no one would expect a tourist to intentionally cut their vacation short for a hospital visit. Out of all of us, you should be the safest.”

“I don’t want to be the safest!”

“Well you are!”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want you getting hurt!” You almost shriek, your eyes shining with unshed tears. You could live with the other ghosts being injured, hell you would even be fine with yourself being injured during this mission, but not Four. You can’t see Four hurt during this.

The air in the briefing room is thick like a winter’s morning fog, no one dares to break the silence, nor the staring match between you and Four. With a deep breath in, you tear your eyes away from his, clearing your throat before continuing. “Once I arrive, I’ll get myself access to the hospital securities’ database and change over the contact details referring to their employment officer. The number will be changed to mine, and I will become their first point of contact when needing to hire a new head of security. Back to how I will become head of security, the current head is experiencing marital issues with his wife who lives in Scotland with their children. He moved to Noumea for work, and she refused to move with him. The day I arrive, I’ll be sending him an email from her lawyers, demanding he return to Scotland at once or she will be taking full custody of their children. Naturally, he will leave immediately, which means the hospital will require a new head of security. This is where my contact changes will come into play. I will be called, and the hospital will request I assign a new head of security to begin working ASAP. I’ll begin working the following day, and will create access passes for all of our new staff.”

“What about credentials? I don’t know a whole lot about being a doctor, but I’m positive they have some kind of proof of who they are.” Two asks, tilting her head to the side and regarding you with a look of complete interest. So far, despite all her scrutinizing, she has been unable to see any flaws in your plan.

“One has everything you need. I have created diplomas licences, literally everything you could possibly require to prove yourselves as active doctors should anyone request them. One will make sure you have yours before you leave.” Two nods her understanding, and goes back to taking down notes on the mission.

“I will warn you all now, I cannot guarantee you will all have access to the same wards and restricted areas of the hospital. I will do my best to grant access to everything to you all, however it may not be possible. Seven, Three and Five, you will be the most likely to have access to everywhere within the hospital, as you will all have the most reason to visit all areas. I’ll do my best for everyone though.”

“What exactly am I meant to be doing during all of this?” Four grumbles, his eyebrows creased in frustration.

One replies before you even have the chance, and you remind yourself to thank him later. You’re not sure if you had the heart to tell him just what his role actually was. “You’re bait for the Lushnick’s. As Eight mentioned, you’re going to present to A&E with a migraine. I’ll be your doctor, and I’m basically going to convince everyone that you’re much worse than you actually are. The plan is, that the Lushnick’s will hear about how horribly unwell you are, and will swoop in and save the day. When they do, you have to agree to everything they say. Tell them that you have no immediate family or next of kin. Let them think you’re all alone, that you’re vulnerable. If your acting is good enough, they’re going to believe you, and they’re going to try and help you. That’s when the rest of us will be there to stop them, before they have the chance to actually do anything to you of course.”

Four’s frown has deepened, and his eyes have grown dark. He doesn’t like the plan, doesn’t want to be bait. He want’s to be in on all of the action, fighting tooth and nail in order to get back at the Lushnick’s for everything they’ve ever done. But for once, he knows better than to argue, he may not have a great deal of faith in One, especially after their cluster fuck of a first mission, but you… You he trusts with his life. “Okay. So when I present to A&E, when I fill in the arriving form, you want me to leave all of the emergency contact details blank more or less?”

You nod, offering him a soft half smile. “Yes please, it will help lure in the Lushnick’s if they think you have no one.”

“Alright, I can do that.”

Folding your arms across your chest, you gaze around the room, your eyes falling to each member of your team. “Does anyone have any other questions before I leave?”

There’s a chorus of ‘No’s’ throughout the room, and you smile to yourself, rather proud that not only had you created this mission, but you had successfully explained it thoroughly too. “Wonderful. If anyone does think of anything, One will be here for a little while longer. You will all be able to contact us through email once we’re in Noumea, and upon arriving at the hospital you will all be issued with an earpiece for us to communicate during the mission. Four, One will slip you your earpiece once you arrive at A&E.”

Once again, everyone nods their understanding, and you clasp your hands together tightly in front of you. “Good luck everyone, and I’ll be seeing you in Noumea soon.” And with that, you make your exit from the briefing room, heading to your trailer to finish packing your bag before your departure.

*****

You already had a few of the essentials packed, however you still had a great deal more you required before leaving for the airport in five hours’ time. One had assigned himself as your designated driver, and you had simply shrugged and accepted his offer. You assumed it was to go over a few last-minute details he may think of before you left. As you fold your clothes neatly into your bag, you find yourself fighting back against dark thoughts which cloud your mind. What if we don’t all survive? What if the Lushnick’s recognise you? What if the plan fails and Four ends up getting hurt? What if- Before your overactive imagination has the chance to create any other worst case scenarios, a knock on your closed trailer door pulls you back into the present. You jump on the spot, blinking rapidly down to the pair of pants you held half folded in your arms. “C-come in.”

The door squeals open, and Four steps through, both hands in the pocket of the sweatshirt you had let him borrow. “We need to talk.” He begins, eyes focusing on everything but you.

You nod slowly, trying desperately to catch his gaze. “Yes, I suppose we do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving early?”

“Would it have changed anything?”

“Yes? No? Maybe? Fuck Eight, I don’t know!”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. If you knew I was leaving today, before the rest of you. Would you still have slept with me last night?”

There’s no thought to his next words, they tumble from his mouth without a filter. “Of course I would’ve!”

You smile gently, bowing your head slightly. “I didn’t know that. I was afraid to tell you. Afraid that maybe if I did, then last night never would’ve happened. Or if it did happen, you would’ve seen it as some kind of farewell.”

“There’s not going to be a farewell, do you hear me Eight? No one is saying goodbye, at least not today, not for this mission.”

“Okay, it’s not goodbye then. But just promise me one thing will you?”

“Of course, anything.” Four whispers, stepping closer to you and reaching out to take both your hands in his.

You bite your lower lip, before lifting your head, your eyes finally meeting his. “When it does come time to say goodbye, because the day will eventually come. Promise to call me by my name, Y/N.”

You can see the heartbreak in his eyes, he doesn’t want to think about ever saying goodbye to you, just as he never thought he would have to say goodbye to Six. But here you both were, preparing for something that you had convinced yourselves would never happen. “If the day comes, then I’ll call you Y/N, but until then, you’ll always be Eight to me.” He pauses, rubbing soft circles against the backs of your hands with his calloused thumbs. “Same for me, if we have to say goodbye, will you call me Billy? I don’t want to be a number to you my whole life.”

“You’ll never just be a number to me Billy.”

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