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the-oblivious-writer · 1 month ago

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With Her I Die |6|

Past J.T to Eventual S.S x Female Reader

Chapter Six: Shipman's Girl

warnings: phycological trauma (mentions of suicidal thoughts), violence/gore (hunting - killing an animal and references to reader killing the bear), and intense emotional attachments.

note(s): I'm not ready to watch the finale so no spoilies.

taglist: @morganismspam23 @slutforabbyanderson

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

Nat watched from her perch on a fallen log, cleaning her rifle with practiced precision while observing the scene unfolding before her. Shauna hovered around you, fussing with the straps of your pack, double-checking the pockets of your jacket.

"I packed extra jerky," Shauna said, her voice carrying that forced casual tone that fooled absolutely no one. "And there's an extra knife in the side pocket."

You nodded, allowing her this ritual of protection with the patient resignation of someone who'd learned resistance was futile. "I've got it, Shauna."

"And the water—"

"Is full. Just like it was when you checked five minutes ago." There was no real edge to your voice—just the gentle teasing between two people who'd fallen into a rhythm of care that bordered on obsession.

Nat's lips quirked up at the corner as she slid the cleaning rod through the barrel of her rifle. The way Shauna's hands lingered on your shoulders, the way your body unconsciously leaned toward her—it told a story neither of you seemed aware you were narrating.

"We're burning daylight," Nat finally called out, clicking the bolt back into place. "Unless you two need a private moment to say goodbye?"

Shauna's cheeks flushed slightly as she stepped back, one hand absently finding its way to her growing belly. "Just be careful out there."

"It's just a hunting trip," you said, but the three of you knew it wasn't just anything anymore. Not since the bear.

"Yeah, well," Shauna's eyes darted to your hands, the same hands that had slaughtered a bear. The same hands she'd washed blood from afterward, holding them under the stream water until they were clean again. "Just come back, okay?"

You nodded, something unspoken passing between you.

"She's with me," Nat said, standing and slinging the rifle over her shoulder. "I'll make sure your girl comes back in one piece."

------

The forest welcomed you with its familiar symphony – the whisper of leaves overhead, the occasional crack of branches, the distant calls of birds. Nat moved with the easy confidence of someone born to this environment, each step deliberate yet natural. She'd been watching you for weeks now, the way you'd transformed from the girl who flinched at every sound to someone who moved through the wilderness with your own kind of dangerous grace.

"Shauna's got it bad," Nat finally said, breaking the comfortable silence between them. She kept her voice low, mindful of potential game nearby.

You glanced over, eyebrow raised. "Got what bad?"

Nat snorted. "Please. The hover routine? The constant touching? She's practically carved your name into her arm."

"She's just worried."

"We're all worried. All the time. About everything." Nat paused, kneeling to examine a set of tracks in the soft earth. "But Shauna looks at you like you might evaporate if she blinks too long."

You didn't respond immediately, your eyes scanning the tree line ahead. "She's afraid I'll follow Jackie."

The bluntness of your statement didn't surprise Nat. It was one of the things she'd come to appreciate about you – the way you cut through bullshit when it mattered. No pretense, no sugar-coating. Just the brutal, bleeding truth.

"Would you?" Nat asked, genuinely curious.

You considered this, your hands absently checking the knife at your belt – the same knife that had saved your life and taken another. "I used to think about it. Every day."

"And now?"

"Now I think about coming back." Your eyes met hers, clear and steady. "For her."

Nat nodded, understanding perfectly. Survival wasn't just about food and shelter and warmth. It was about having a reason to keep breathing when everything in you screamed to stop. Travis had Javi. Shauna had you. And you had Shauna.

"What about you?" you asked as they resumed walking, following the fresh deer tracks deeper into the woods.

"What about me?"

"Who do you come back for?"

Nat's step faltered slightly, her rifle shifting against her back. "I come back because fuck dying out here," she said with a sharp grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. "This shithole doesn't get to win."

Two hours into their hunt, Nat watched you drop into a crouch, your entire demeanor shifting as you pointed silently to a break in the trees ahead. She followed your gaze and saw it – a young buck, its antlers still more promise than threat, grazing cautiously at the edge of a small clearing.

Nat raised her rifle, settling into position with the ease of long practice. Through the scope, the buck was perfectly centered, an easy shot. But instead of taking it, she lowered the weapon slightly.

"You take it," she said quietly, nodding toward your hunting knife.

Your eyes widened slightly. "With the knife? It's too far."

"Not the knife. The rifle."

You stared at her as if she'd suggested you fly to the moon. "But you never let anyone—"

"Consider it a graduation present." Nat held the rifle out. "Travis is too busy playing big brother to hunt, and I can't be the only one putting food on the table. Time you learned."

After a moment's hesitation, you took the rifle, handling it with appropriate reverence. Nat moved behind you, adjusting your position with small touches – elbow higher, cheek against the stock, finger alongside the trigger guard until ready.

"Breathe in," she instructed, her voice just above a whisper against your ear. "Halfway out, hold. Then squeeze. Don't pull."

Nat watched as you followed her directions, your body tensing then relaxing into the shot. The crack of the rifle shattered the forest's quiet, sending birds scattering from nearby trees. The buck dropped instantly – a clean kill.

"Holy shit," you breathed, lowering the rifle.

Nat didn't bother hiding her smile this time. "Not bad for a princess."

"Fuck you," you laughed, the sound startling in its genuineness. Nat couldn't remember the last time she'd heard you laugh – really laugh – since Jackie.

"Shauna's going to lose her mind when she hears you fired a gun," Nat said as they approached the fallen deer.

"Shauna doesn't need to know every detail." There was a new confidence in your voice, a subtle assertion of independence that made Nat raise an eyebrow.

"Trouble in paradise?"

You shook your head, kneeling beside the buck. "Not trouble. Just... we're not the same person. She forgets that sometimes."

Nat nodded, understanding intimately the suffocating weight of someone else's concern, no matter how well-intentioned. "She's afraid of losing you."

"I know."

"Are you afraid of losing her?"

Your hands stilled on the buck's warm flank. "Every day."

Nat knelt opposite you, pulling out her gutting knife. "Then you understand each other perfectly."

They worked in companionable silence, field dressing the deer with the efficiency born of necessity. Nat appreciated your focus, the way you didn't flinch from the blood or the viscera. The wilderness had changed all of them, but you most visibly. The soft edges worn away, revealing something sharper, more defined underneath.

"You know, after what happened with the bear," Nat said, her hands steady as she worked, "everyone's been looking at you differently."

"Like I'm crazy?" The question held no real concern, just idle curiosity.

"Like you're dangerous." Nat glanced up, catching your eye. "It scares them. What you did."

"Does it scare you?"

Nat considered this, wiping blood from her hands onto her jeans. "No," she said finally. "It reminds me of me."

Something passed between them then – recognition, perhaps. Understanding. Two predators acknowledging each other across a kill.

"Is that why you brought me hunting after Travis bailed? Because we're the same?"

Nat shook her head, returning to her task. "I brought you because you don't talk too much. And because watching Shauna fuss over you before we left was the most entertainment I've had in weeks."

You laughed again, and Nat found herself smiling in response. There was something infectious about this new version of you – less brittle, more present.

"She loves you, you know," Nat said, the words surprising her as much as they seemed to surprise you. "Not just because of Jackie, or guilt, or whatever fucked-up codependent thing you two have going on. She actually loves you."

You were quiet for a long moment, your bloodied hands still against the deer's hide. "I know," you finally said. "That's what makes it so terrifying."

------

The sun was beginning its descent when you and Nat started back toward the cabin, the dressed deer suspended between you on a pole. The weight of it made conversation difficult, but Nat found herself speaking anyway, filling the space between you with words she hadn't planned to share.

"When I was little, my dad used to take me hunting," she said, adjusting her grip on the pole. "Before all the other shit went down. He'd say the forest doesn't lie. People lie. Cities lie. But out here, everything is exactly what it seems."

"Do you think that's true?" you asked, your voice slightly strained from the effort of carrying the deer.

"I used to." Nat stepped carefully over a fallen log. "Now I think the forest just has different lies. More beautiful ones, maybe. But still lies."

"Like what?"

"Like the lie that we're in control out here. That skill and preparation are enough." Nat's eyes scanned the darkening tree line habitually. "The bear taught you that, didn't it?"

You nodded, adjusting the pole across your shoulders. "I thought I was going to die."

"But you didn't."

"No."

"Because you became something else. Something the forest wasn't expecting."

A small smile crossed your face, tinged with something dark and satisfied. "Maybe that's the only way to survive out here. Become the thing nothing expects."

Nat studied you in the fading light, this strange girl who had crawled into a bear's death embrace and emerged transformed. Who had screamed Jackie's name into the wilderness night after night until her voice gave out. Who now carried death on her shoulders with steady hands and clear eyes.

"Shauna sees it too, you know," Nat said. "What you're becoming. That's why she's always hovering, always touching. She's trying to make sure there's still a you underneath it all."

"And what do you think?" you asked, meeting her gaze steadily. "Is there still a me underneath it all?"

Nat considered this as the cabin came into view, smoke rising from its chimney against the darkening sky. She could make out a figure standing by the clearing's edge – Shauna, no doubt, watching and waiting as always.

"I think," Nat said carefully, "that whoever you are now is exactly who you need to be. And if Shauna can't handle that, she'll have to catch up."

As if on cue, Shauna spotted them, her hand rising in greeting, her entire posture relaxing visibly at the sight of you returning.

"She will," you said with quiet certainty. "She's becoming something else too."

Nat nodded, watching as Shauna crossed the clearing toward you both, her eyes fixed on you with that familiar intensity that bordered on devotion. "Aren't we all," she murmured, more to herself than to you.

The last light of day caught the blood dried on your hands, turning it almost black against your skin. Different from the dirt Shauna had washed away so many times before, but just as telling. Evidence of survival. Evidence of change.

Travis emerged from the cabin, Javi trailing behind him, both drawn by the prospect of fresh meat. But Nat noticed how Travis's eyes lingered on you, that same wary respect he'd shown since the bear incident. As if reassessing a threat level.

"Nice work," Travis called out, gesturing to the deer.

"She got it," Nat replied, nodding toward you. "One shot."

The surprise on his face was almost comical. Even Shauna paused mid-step, her expression flickering between pride and something more complicated.

"Looks like I've got competition," Travis said with a half-smile.

You shrugged, but Nat could see the quiet satisfaction in your posture. "Just filling in while you play babysitter."

"Fuck off," Travis retorted, but there was no heat in it. Just the normal back-and-forth of a new equilibrium forming.

As they reached the clearing, Nat watched Shauna's hand find yours automatically, seemingly unconcerned by the dried blood caking your skin. Her eyes searched your face, asking silent questions: Are you okay? Are you still here? Are you still mine?

And you answered just as silently, leaning slightly into her space, allowing the touch without surrendering to it completely. A new dance between you, Nat realized. Less desperate than before. More conscious.

"Alright," Nat said, rolling her shoulders as they set the deer down. "Someone help me hang this thing before it gets too dark."

As Travis moved to assist, Nat caught your eye one last time. There was something there – gratitude, maybe. Understanding, definitely. You nodded once, a small acknowledgment of whatever had shifted between you during the hunt.

Then you turned to Shauna, your blood-stained hand finding the small of her back with casual intimacy, guiding her toward the cabin as you began telling her about the day's success. Nat watched you go, that small knowing smile returning to her face.

The forest might be full of lies, but what was happening between you and Shauna – what was happening to all of you out here – that was something brutally, beautifully true.

#shauna shipman x you #shauna shipman #shauna shipman x reader #shauna yellowjackets #jackie taylor x y/n #jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor x reader #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #yellow jackets

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porcelainbirdss · 2 months ago

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the sweetest

summary: when someone told you that being in love doesn’t necessarily mean loving, you couldn’t believe the absurdity of that statement. as life went on, the truth of those words would continue to weight heavily over your head.

cw: fem!reader, both mydei and reader are equally disturbed individuals, toxic relationships, codependency, angst, hurt with the littlest of comfort, soulties/soulmates au || wc: 10k

the food on your plate seemed especially unappealing today. on the other hand, was it ever? perhaps when you first stepped into Okhema, completely enamored by the culture. yes, you could remember it clearly - the way it would melt on your tongue, flavors mixing with fresh air you’d breathe in everyday on the high balcony. meat and fruits, expensive wine you spent way too much money on. you’d chuckle to yourself as you dipped the slices of cheese in honey, thinking about how lucky you were to reside in the holy city. the state of unawareness you possessed only made everything more blissful.

right now the dinner was nothing but dry - with the first bite, you genuinely thought you would choke. it tasted the same way his name felt on your lips. Mydeimos. the man that decided to test your patience, will and mental strength everyday. you didn’t like the thought, but did he bring anything other than misery into your life? at first you didn’t want to perceive the relationship you both shared as something inherently bad — as time went on, it turned out near impossible. venom seemed to be laced through his words, and you knew that it seeped from your mouth too. sometimes you liked to imagine him as the wrong one - however, with the way things stood, you were equal in your spite. you could stop the chain of events and run somewhere else, to another city. looking back, it was the best option you had, and yet still declined to take. rope bound your hands to his, and you would tug on it relentlessly. in the back of your mind, the image of Mydei finally stumbling over, and letting go replayed constantly. but if it ever came to that, would you be satisfied? happy?

the answer was simple, but dreadful all the same - no.

as you took another bite of your meal, the image of your late mother flashed. perhaps she was the root of all your suffering? the damned prophecy she revealed to you when you were younger, of a boy with golden hair dipped in blood, who one day would bask in glory.

"you see, my dear [name], all of humanity has their other half, hidden somewhere. not everyone is destined to meet them, but you will. i’m sure of that."

(the way she smiled at you with so much glee in her eyes was disgusting).

"but mom, how do you know?"

(you wish you never asked this question).

"i have my ways," she chuckled, swiping the mischievous hair behind your ear, "see that mark on your wrist? look for someone with the same one. it means you both are meant to be."

you glanced at the singular line that stretched from the knuckles up to your wrist, and thought it looked more like a scar than anything else. you have seen other people with similar marks - but they were always more intricate. veins of ivy embedding an arm, or stars splattered in a specific pattern. yours wasn’t like that.

"ugh… that will be so hard to spot on someone! do you at least know how that person looks?"

the woman seemed to take a second of contemplation. "well, it was revealed to me in a vague way. but i can tell you, if you want to."

"yes, please!" you giggled as you jumped up all thrilled, tugging at the long sleeve of her dress. to your younger self, there was nothing more exciting than finally meeting the person you were 'tied' to. your soulmate.

"alright then,” your mother nodded, giving your head an affectionate ruffle, "his hair is blonde. it’s a very beautiful color, mixed with red. those eyes… striking to the bone. a born leader, i’m sure."

at that, you hummed in deep acknowledgment as you tried to imagine the boy. for some reason, nothing concrete came to you. still, it wasn’t like you were unsatisfied - maybe you had a different picture in mind, but that person was destined to you nevertheless! as you kept on brooding, one of your friends suddenly called out to you. immediately distracted, you followed after the beckoning girl to play in the fields.

how you wished it ended at that. your past self forgot, and kept on frolicking in the lush meadows with your old friends forever. your mother never passed, and you pursued your physician studies at home. the soulmate you dreamt of meeting got left behind as nothing but a mere, blurry visualization. but here you were, sitting in one of the apartments of Okhema, locked up in your room. Mydei was probably attending to some important stuff, or bickering with Phainon, like he always did. maybe they were sparring? from the sound of clashing swords outside, it was likely.

you sighed, digging the knife into the piece of meat with more force than necessary. the momentary guilt you felt from blaming your mother for the situation you created with your own hands shook you a bit. how could you? she never meant any harm. nor did you, but things turned out as they did, and who else was there to blame?

perhaps the winds that took you to the holy city.

it was unbearably hot that day. sweat covered your temples as you tried cooling down your face with a makeshift fan (which worked poorly). still, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of excitement wash over you as you took the views in. streets bustling with life, merchants yelling over each other, people laughing somewhere, and children running to their heart’s contents. the general atmosphere successfully pushed the discomfort to the back of your mind. it was only your sixth day in Okhema, yet you were already feeling as if it was the place you belonged to.

your peaceful stroll quickly came to a halt when you saw an awfully familiar silhouette standing not so far away. you didn’t know the man - it was not possible, as it was your first time seeing him. however, something about him seemed… unsettlingly different. you could recognize the blonde-red hair, so rare and distinct. you felt your heart jump - both from fear and elation, a mixture that caused you to freeze. you blinked twice, then rubbed your eyes, but the man was still there, talking to someone.

you clenched your fists as you remembered the words of your clairvoyant mother. meeting your soulmate wasn’t the objective of life you led so far, but the thought of having someone important was still dear to your heart. with new-found resolve, you took a few steps forward, wondering how you could strike up the conversation. first impression was always the most important, after all. the image of coming up to a stranger, and waving your mark before his eyes was ridiculous. what if it wasn’t him, after all? now that would’ve been awkward.

you approached the blonde, gently patting his arm.

"excuse me, sir, how do i get to the baths?" you could never go wrong with a classic. of course, you knew the way to the baths, but playing oblivious was your best option.

when he turned to face you, you felt your blood pressure rise once more. two golden hues met with yours, and at that moment, you knew your mother was right. striking. it was the only word you could use to describe them. fierce eyes filled with something your mind couldn’t quite comprehend. your gaze flickered over all of his body in search of a soulmate mark, yet you were unable to spot it. stress squeezed your guts. where was it? under his clothes? if so, then you had no real way of confirming if he was the one.

as he opened his mouth to answer you, his vision seemed to suddenly lock onto something else - your right hand. recognition seeped onto his face, and you felt brief relief before the man’s expression twisted. something was wrong. why wasn’t he happy? you were, at least that’s what you thought a few seconds ago. joy quickly morphed into an ugly feeling of distress, sitting firmly at the bottom of your stomach.

"is… is there something wrong?" you asked, furrowing your brows as the relentless sun beamed straight onto your nape. it seemed as if the heat only made the situation worse.

"i know you asked for directions, but i’d like to have a talk with you. in private." he glanced at the other man who was still standing there, "then, i can lead you to the bathhouse."

the slightly harsh tone of his voice made you wince, but you nodded, knowing that refusal wasn’t a choice you could afford to make here. the blonde excused himself, telling you to follow him somewhere secluded. you did, even though something deep within your mind was screaming at you to turn on your heel and run. at that time, you didn’t recognize it as anything other than nervousness. at least now you were aware your gut feeling was right. back then, if you decided to dismiss the man, would it all turn out differently? it is common knowledge - you meet your soulmate once, and the universe will make sure for you to never truly part ways. at the end of the day, it didn’t matter. you could have sprinted with all your might, but you’d still cross paths nevertheless. be it in a few months, maybe on your deathbed. there was no telling.

to be honest, it was much more of a complex problem. you could continue to blame all of your choices, thinking of ways you should have avoided it. the domino effect began long time ago, when your mother first got sick, and soon the delightful life you once had crumbled over your own head. all of your struggles lacked in any meaning, and the house of cards you meticulously crafted for all those years got swiped by a strong gust of wind. grief-stricken people seek resolve, and the only way of keeping your mind from the tragedy was to change your environment.

image of the man’s back as you trailed after him like some kind of a ghost was still vivid. something between his shoulder blades, located around his thoracic vertebrae caught your attention. it wasn’t easy to tell, but there it was. slightly obscured by his clothes, a singular line. that really was him. surely, the moment of meeting your soulmate didn’t go as planned, but perhaps he was more… sensitive than you? your fantasies of jumping into each other’s arms got successfully dimmed by his rather odd reaction, yet you couldn’t blame him. after all, it was so sudden, so unexpected. obviously he’ll eventually warm up to you.

after walking into an alleyway, you finally stopped, almost bumping into his back. fortunately, it was much darker and cooler here, and he couldn’t see the sweat beading on your forehead. the blonde turned to face you, his expression unreadable. it wasn’t angry, nor sad, but rather cautious in a certain way.

"show me your hand.” he demanded, stretching out his palm towards you. the man was straightforward, that’s for sure. usually you’d have no problem with it, except this time it actually irked you.

"you won’t even introduce yourself?" you cocked your eyebrow, gazing up at him with a bold look. his piercing gaze made you feel as if he wanted to fix you into place, just like people do with dragonflies. securing them with pins and needles, their lifeless forms never to move again.

you managed to spot the twitch of his eye. “Mydeimos." he huffed, lips stretching into a thin line, as if he was barely stopping himself from adding unnecessary comments.

"[name]." you replied shortly, placing your hand atop his. resisting made no sense, even though you wished to spite the impossibly impatient man.

is it really your soulmate if your first thought is to make his life harder? are you truly meant to be when instead of feeling giddy and excited, you’re starting to become irritated?

a clipped breath of disbelief escaped Mydei’s lungs, his grip on your hand strengthening just for a second before he let go. "why do you look so calm? do you not have any oppositions towards a stranger dragging you off, and then showing him your mark?”

that was a fair question. you definitely were acting as if the course of action was natural, even though it wasn’t.

"my mother, she—" you began, thinking of the simplest way you could explain it to him, "when i was younger, she had a prophetic vision. specifically speaking, of my soulmate. she managed to describe you to me, and the image stuck." a heavy sigh slipped from your mouth as you got met with silence, urging you to continue. "well, of course i wasn’t sure if it was you, but once i saw your back…"

you trailed off, wondering what caused Mydei to be so deeply submerged in his thoughts. all the time he kept quiet, looking between you and your wrist, as if contemplating something.

"a-are you not happy?" you managed to force out, dreading the response he would offer. slowly, the hopes of a better life with someone by your side started to fall apart.

you should have stayed in your hometown. why didn’t you?

(grief-stricken people seek resolve).

why do they seek resolve?

(because they have nothing—)

"no." Mydei’s curt answer cut through the air, making you jump. "i’ve no time for soulmates, or any other type of romance." he scoffed, "hmph, to think that a person would willingly put themselves through such trouble simply because of a mark on their skin."

you watched the man cross his arms over his chest, your eyebrows narrowing together. "then why didn’t you ignore me earlier? if soulmates really hold no significance to you, why’d you confirm we are tied?" you almost barked out, feeling the heat crawl back on your skin. oh no, you wouldn’t let it go simply because your soulmate is apparently also a coward.

"listen, i understand why you’re upset. my mind won’t change, though." the man’s tone got a bit darker, as if owning you at least an explanation was already too demanding. "i just wanted to set things straight with you. it is more than probable we’ll… stumble upon each other some more."

"so you don’t want me to get my hopes up, is that it?" you barely contained your anger, Mydei’s indifference only adding to the fire in your chest.

"exactly. now, do you still want me to show you the way to the baths? or was that just an excuse in order to talk to me?"

your fists clenched by your sides, and the thought of slapping him across the face appeared in your mind. fortunately (or perhaps not), you were above that.

"bastard." you hissed through your teeth, rapidly turning on your heel and walking away. damn him and that stupid stubbornness, and his hair, and eyes, and— and everything! not only did your 'soulmate' humiliate you, he seemed so stoic about the whole situation in contrast to your boiling blood — as if he didn’t care at all! and the bitter truth was, he most likely didn’t. why did your mother insist that you find him? her passing already took an unfathomable toll on you, and now her absurd death-bed wishes continued to only further your misery.

''once i’m gone, you’ll be left on your own'' she’d say, her voice trembling with fatigue, ‘'you’ll need someone to take care of you. to stand by your side, and protect from the world’s harm.'’

couldn’t you protect yourself? did she really think so lowly of you?

'’he will treat you well. i’m sure of it."

(liar).

you closed your eyes, traversing the streets at a fast pace. tears welled up behind your eyelids, and you knew it wasn’t because of how Mydeimos rejected you, but rather at the memory of your frail mom. the unwavering love still filling her gaze as coughs shook her body, careworn words urging you to find a better life. perhaps you weren’t doing it for yourself, but rather for her - for that ghostly vision of her face.

you seldom fought for anything, however now it seemed that a new resolve sparked within you. you won’t stick by your soulmate’s side, but you’ll strive. depending on anybody was no good, and that much was clear to you.

the memory of that fateful day made you cringe as you attempted to convince yourself the vegetables you were currently chewing on weren’t exactly awful in taste. they were, but you still continued to eat. wasting food wasn’t something you usually did, even if it was disgustingly bland.

three years passed since then, but all those events were still clear as a day in your mind. you remember swearing to yourself that you wouldn’t even look at Mydei’s face — turns out, Phainon found out about the correlation between you. it was long before you and Mydei started to jump at each other’s necks, so you were sure the man harbored no harm when he came up with that wicked plan of his. for whatever reason, he thought that playing a matchmaker was his call, and by some means he found out about your qualifications for a physician. the energy that emanated through your body, which took you years to master into a healing form would soon be used for a ‘greater good'.

Chrysos Heirs never exactly lacked in medical care, yet now you were hired as their personal nurse. by that, you also found out Mydei was apparently the crown prince of Kremnos. it wasn’t like you were unaware of his high status in society, but the sheer importance he carried took you by surprise. with that, something else was revealed — he couldn’t die. he was a warrior, and his body lacked in any kind of scarring. when you first heard it, you were almost relieved, as it obviously meant he wasn’t in the need of a physician.

turns out your hopeful thinking was for nothing, as your current position was only meant to get you both closer. you could as well be polishing the baths, and it wouldn’t make any difference.

it began out slow, and you don’t remember which one of you started it. you would regularly see Mydei, and share just a mere glance of acknowledgment. sometimes he’d scoff under his nose, then again you’d make a brief remark about his attitude. those small interactions were nothing but a dragged out prelude to the events that future held for you. a testament of sorts, building the fundaments of your downfall. snarky comments couldn’t sate neither of you, and soon you’d begin to argue on daily basis. soulmates are further cemented by interaction - which you were aware of, yet couldn’t stop digging your own grave. every time you talked to Mydei, you knew the mud around your ankles got denser, and soon you’d be stuck. he would be as well - at least you weren’t the only one at disadvantage here. constant fighting was draining, even for the mighty prince, and that thought never failed to make you chuckle grimly under your breath.

others took notice of the scenes you both would cause. sometimes they would end long before escalation, but more often than not Mydei was faced with flying ceramics, and you with a logorrhea of curses and damnations. the worst part is that it didn’t only affect you, but others too. even though you both had enough decorum to stop yourself from fighting in front of civilians, Aglaea would often point out how anxious Tribbie got, careworn by your constant barking and scowling. Phainon has shown genuine concern too, going as far as to scolding Mydei. needless to say, he was always getting dismissed by a wave of the uninterested man. as how things were unfolding, you had thought many times of leaving the Okhema. however, wouldn’t that equal you admitting defeat? in your soulmate’s eyes, your picture would be reduced to a cowardly nobody. for some reason, it would sting way more than his words.

"everytime you open your mouth, i am physically resisting the urge to push you off a cliff!" you seethed, shutting the cutlery drawer with an unnecessary amount of force. the knives and forks clattered inside loudly, filling the communal kitchen with an unpleasant noise.

"what makes you think you could?" Mydei snapped back, perhaps hoping to intimidate you. in answer, you cocked your head to the side, granting him with an unaffected look.

"just a guess, but you’re not very likable, are you?" you swiftly changed the topic, knowing that pushing him off a cliff was certainly impossible, and you had no arguments to back up your homicidal idea. "even your own people seem to—"

his eyebrows narrowed dangerously, clear indication you were walking on thin ice. "you’re not exactly popular around here, either." he interrupted, "you’re just a nurse, gods know from where—"

"just a nurse?!"

"—and nobody seems to take you seriously-"

"you’re foolish if you think i care about the opinion of other’s, especially yours!"

"well, maybe you should start to, because—"

"you think yourself mighty, huh? not everyone’s gonna be—"

"—i have a very good advice! pack your things, get out of Okhema, and as far—"

"—kissing your feet and worshipping the ground you walk on! unlike most people, i—"

"—as i am concerned, no one would miss you!"

"—actually have eyes and i’m capable of recognizing a cowardly bastard!"

you both kept screaming over each other, interrupting, and snarling as the packet of sugar between your fingers seemed close to ripping in half from the amount of tugging it faced. it was a conflict you could easily resolve, yet you seemed to ignore the fact. why share the sugar when you could fight for it instead?

every single one of your days in the holy city looked like that, filled with the sound of biting teeth and roars of anger. if you avoided the clashes, Mydei wouldn’t perceive you as someone worthy of recognition (and you needed to be, you had to make his life harder for the way he was treating you). if you ran, he’d laugh about it with others, saying how easy to scare off you were.

you could try to justify the reasons why you stayed, but at the end of the day, one answer resonated profoundly in the back of your mind — you wanted to prove it didn’t hurt.

"hey, would you two—"

"what?!" you yelled in unison, your necks snapping towards the innocent Phainon who stood in the doorframe of the kitchen, a bit shocked. you didn’t even notice when the sugar package torn in half, its contents pouring all over the floor.

"…keep it down." he finished with utter disappointment, his weary eyes taking in the mess you both made. "look, now because of your petty arguments the sugar is wasted."

Mydei measured you with his fierce gaze, and you did the same. the air got heavy with tension once more as you stared at each other with murderous intent, mulling over whichever insults would be the best this time. Phainon gripped the bridge of his nose with silent resignation, knowing the unavoidable screaming match was going to erupt once more.

"you clean it up!" you bursted out, pointing towards the sugar-covered tiles.

"no, you clean it up, you imbeci—!"

"why would i? i wanted the sugar first, and you started to—"

"what?! no, i put my hands on it first!"

"gods, you’re insufferable! that’s not how it—"

Phainon shook his head, closing the kitchen door with a loud thud. you paid no mind to him, way too occupied by your quarrel. even from the halls, he could still hear the distant shouting, and began to wonder how long it’ll take before someone loses their mind.

the arguments you shared varied on the scale of severity. one time they were closer to a bicker, and everyone was grateful that at least you didn’t want to kill each other. a few hours later the clamor was back on, and wouldn’t stop until you both got fed up. it mattered little whether the cause of your argument was serious, or no — you’d still put your everything into those screams. if someone told you that everyday you’d be having an altercation with the crown prince of Kremnos — be it about who gets the last sugar packet, or who is more of a pathetic-foolish-wrongdoer — you wouldn’t believe them.

it is said that soulties can make you feel emotions tenfold. sorrow, anger, joy, love. it only applied towards one’s soulmate, but could be destructive nonetheless. it can either make you more infatuated, or cause you to regret ever meeting them. you surely identified with the latter.

exactly one year passed before your relationship with Mydeimos took… a slightly off-track route.

it was pretty obvious that you and him were at your wits ends, and bearing any more of that would lead you both astray. each day, you prayed to whoever was willing to listen, begging for this nightmarish charade to finally end. countless days spent on either bawling your eyes out, or tearing your throat as you screamed in frustration were making you more than exhausted. wicked satisfaction coming from making Mydei’s existence harder was meek, and the constant headaches drove you up the wall. you felt trapped — perhaps you truly were. dark shadows hanging low under the man’s eyes were a clear indication he felt the same. still, no matter how much you tried to stay separated, the nature of soulmates was unavoidable. a bond, no matter how dire, once created wouldn’t be able to break. it could only progress further, and when you realized that you were practically attached by the hip, your heart sank low. did you really have no way of breaking free in this dystopian world? nowadays, even your own thoughts seemed to betray you. whenever you crossed the line with Mydei and said too much, guilt would follow you around like a stray dog. a dog from what? the nether, most likely. a vicious, snarling hound, gnawing at your bones, only to lick the marrow with apology in its bottomless eyes.

a tug of war. that’s the best way you could describe it.

as always, the sun hung high on the horizon, and even though you liked to think of yourself as accustomed to the holy city’s climate, it still took a toll on you. you decided to open the window, hoping the fresh breeze would make you feel better. it did, even if just a little. you sighed in relief, smiling to yourself as you watched children playing outside of your surgery’s window. they seemed so carefree, falling and instantly getting up, unable to pay any attention to their scraped knees as the whirl of fun distracted them from pain. this sight brought distant memories, buried somewhere deep within your mind. once, you were like them too — running around the fields, covered in dirt and grass until your mother would finally drag you home, and lecture how dangerous it was to stray so far away. when was the last time you thought about that? life in the holy city stripped you away from all that was once dear. never ending conflicts and problems piling upon one another, forcing you to push back any comfort left.

you prayed that those children would never have to bear such burdens, even though it was nigh impossible to avoid.

as you continued to brood, someone opened the door. your head snapped towards the direction of the sound, immediately recognizing the silhouette. your brows furrowed as you tore yourself off from the windowsill, stepping a bit closer to the man. it was an extremely rare occurrence — him visiting you out of his own volition, that is. you sent him a cautious look, feeling a tinge of anxiety rise up in your gut. you were having such a good day, and now he probably came to ruin it, likely out of boredom. you already opened your mouth to chase him away, but before you could say anything his voice resonated through the room.

"what?" Mydei asked, as if your expression offended him, "can’t i visit our physician?" the man’s words were phrased like one of his usual sarcastic remarks, making your brow twitch.

your frown deepened slightly as you continued to study him with intent eyes. something was obviously off. "well, why’re you here then?"

at that, Mydei paused. his gaze jumped around the room, and he appeared a bit conflicted. it was unlike him to be caught off guard like that, but he came to you - obviously he had a goal in mind, yet now he refused to voice his thoughts. perhaps his pride didn’t allow him to. if it was anybody else you’d be already on the case, sitting them down and coercing into admitting their troubles. however, this was Mydei, and you were adamant about helping him. you stood there, tapping your foot as you scrutinized him, waiting for the man to finally say something.

before your patience managed to reach its limit, his voice once again tore through the silence. "i want you to cast healing energy on me."

you barely stopped your burst of laughter caused by the absurdity of his demand. seriously, come again? he seemed completely fine, standing straight and still managing to get on your nerves. if it wasn’t the picture of health, then you definitely didn’t know what it was. anyway, since when did he experience any kind of pains? Mydei was able to take blows effortlessly and live through fatal wounds, and now he was asking you to waste your time on him. was it to ridicule you?

"you’re joking, right?" you put your hands on your hips, restraining yourself from making any unnecessary comments. for whatever reason, you didn’t feel like fighting today. truthfully, you never did.

"is it really so unbelievable to you, [name]?" the man scoffed, taking few long strides towards the medical bed, "and you dare call yourself a physician." he taunted, a crooked smirk stretching his lips.

Mydei sat heavily, making the bed creak dangerously under the sudden pressure - you winced, hoping it wouldn’t break. you could feel your blood pressure rising, but you clenched your teeth in order to keep any remarks behind them. no, you won’t allow him to get a rise out of you. not today.

"alright, let’s assume something is genuinely wrong with you. what is it?"

another prolonged pause. the only sound filling the space was distant laughter and ticking of the clock hanging on one of the walls. it was arguably worse than listening to Aglaea’s scoldings.

"must you always ask such stupid questions? get to work, or i’ll make sure you bid goodbye to your little workplace tomorrow morning." after a while of contemplation Mydei snarled, visibly annoyed by your questions. it’s something he often did - threaten you. he rarely pulled off any of his promises, but they still made your mind stir with anxieties. if you could, you’d take a basin filled with water and forcibly dip his head inside until he finally lost consciousness. an unrealistic vision it was, because before you’d manage to get a handful of his golden locks, he would have already knocked the water out of your hands and laughed at your poor attempts.

why did you keep putting up with him, even though you were fed up beyond reason?

(grief-stricken people seek resolve).

"at least i wouldn’t need to look at your face everyday," you snapped back, closing the distance between you two, "tell me what’s bothering you, or i won’t cast anything."

it’s not like you cared — you genuinely didn’t, but you wouldn’t be effective unless you knew where the problem was rooted. spreading energy through the whole body was always pretty demanding, so you’d rather focus on one specific spot. you waited for Mydei’s response, but upon receiving none, you sighed with defeat. you throughly washed your hands with soap (something unpleasant crawled up your spine as you felt his eyes fixated on you the whole time), and stepped behind the bed. the sooner he leaves, the better.

you usually announced whenever you started to cast your energy, as the feeling at first was often akin to a slight shock. this time however, you firmly put your hands on his back and surged all of it at once, wanting to capture his jolty reaction. unsurprisingly, Mydei didn’t do anything other than gaze at the floor tiles with a bored look. how come things never turned out the way you wanted? with a little more fervor, you moved your hands towards the nape of his neck. your fingers twitched as you imagined curling them around his throat, cutting out the oxygen — but soon you turned down the vision. you weren’t always like this - this aggressive, and violent. what were you even thinking? Mydei was the bane of your existence, but it’s not like he deserved to suffer.

(or maybe he did?)

your brows narrowed together as you forced the intrusive thoughts out of your mind space. you were a medic, damn it—

"are you doing this on purpose, or what?" he murmured, slightly turning his face to look at you from the corner of his eye. you blinked twice, not understanding what he was referring to. "i mean breathing so hard on my neck. stop it."

you almost retracted your hands, suddenly feeling a mixture of embarrassment and ire. you didn’t even realize that your breaths got so labored, and much to your chagrin, you had no witty response to offer. with a heavy heart, you continued to move your palms around the man’s back, trying to find out yourself where his pains were located. finally, when you stopped around the shoulder blades, Mydei’s muscles seemed to relax at last, even if just a little bit.

"does it hurt here?" you asked absentmindedly, focusing on the flow of energy escaping your fingers.

being so gentle with someone who would never do the same to you felt almost disgusting. but you weren’t wicked at heart, and it was your job to put people at ease instead of furthering their misery. your mother would never approve of causing harm, no matter if the patient was especially awful.

Mydei nodded in response, his back hunching. you took that as a 'yes', continuing to heal. after about three minutes you were done, and the man got up from his seat, stretching his limbs as if he just woke up from a long slumber. you worked your expression into something more unpleasant, worried that if he saw the softened look on your face he might mock you for it.

"we’re done now, so get out of my face." you announced bluntly, the tone of your voice turning harsher than before.

he didn’t even spare you a glance as he walked towards the exit. "i don’t feel any difference. you’re awful at this, [name]." Mydei answered, shutting the door with a loud 'thud!'.

you stood there for a longer while, contemplating whether you should run after the man and choke him like you wanted to earlier. you ultimately abandoned that idea, instead sitting back into the chair and cradling your head with your hands. you hated Mydei. not because he was horrible, but rather because you still were somehow able of being delicate with him. why? how was that physically possible? bodies respond to spite with stronger reactions that yours — if your hatred was real, you wouldn’t even let him into your surgery in the first place.

that dreadful thought would haunt you for the next two years, everyday.

normally, you wouldn’t even dare to reminiscence about such things, but the dull taste of cauliflower made you think of equally terrible recollections. during the second year of your stay in Okhema, things took the turn for worse, and the unpleasant sensation on your tongue made all of your memories resurface.

the drastic shift in the air definitely felt like a thunder’s roar, at least in retrospection. soulmates are a complex thing, and even though they play a very significant role in people’s lives, the research on them is surprisingly lacking. alas, one thing is for sure — there is no turning back. the same applied to yours and Mydei’s case, the feelings of odium soon melting into something more conflicted. he was - much to your dismay - occupying your mind all the time. of course you would think of him earlier on, however back then it definitely got out of hand. constant questions plagued your already fatigued brain, forcing you to seek him out. you did nothing but argue, or huff and scoff at each other, but somehow it put you at ease. a certain sense of twisted familiarity. it worked both ways, unfortunately, and whenever you got busy with work, he’d still come bustling through your door. sometimes you’d fight, other times he’d ramble about things that got on his nerves, and you listened. you started to rely on him — apparently the same happened to Mydei, as Phainon often pointed out how agitated he got whenever you got separated for too long.

you never acknowledged the change in your behavior. it came naturally, just like sun peeks from behind the clouds after rain. your stormy relationship didn’t exactly calm down — Phainon still complained about the noise you two would make, and Castorice winced whenever you both appeared in the same room. mayhem followed in your wake, but at least Mydei stopped his constant threats on your person, and you spared the plates you oh-so-loved throwing at his head (even though he always avoided every single one of them).

what didn’t stop however, was the feeling of going crazy. hatred, spite and agitation took the nightmarish shape of obsession. alienation shook your bones whenever you tried forming any other meaningful connections, and your thoughts always sprinted back to the only question in your head: "where is Mydei?".

more often than not, you felt as if you completely lost yourself. the promises you made to your own self — to run far away from that man, never looking back — it all seemed so distant now. two years of mental exhaustion made your perception crooked, and everything seemed wrong. sometimes you’d wake up and look around, feeling as if someone moved the furniture in your surgery. it wasn’t rearranged, no, but the placement was off by a few inches. the same feeling of unease would creep up on you whenever you thought about how cruelly you betrayed yourself.

Mydeimos was important to you. coming to terms with that fact was hard, and the unfathomable hurt of it was almost comparable to when you cradled your mother’s terrifyingly bony hands in yours. two completely different situations, yet you still felt as if they shared a common ground — your downfall. it will continue to torment you, until your body will finally be lowered in a casket.

the worst part is, you still don’t know whether you genuinely lost your mind, or if the soultie effect caused it.

everything is changing. everything is getting worse. Phainon payed you a visit today, and he was talking about something, yet you couldn’t recall what it was. you gave him some tea — he said it was the best he had in a long time. you wanted to believe him, but the way his lips stretched in unnaturally cordial smile indicated otherwise. you couldn’t blame him though, as the brew was prepared with health-prosperity in mind. you could put a few sugar cubes inside, but it would defeat its original purpose.

the conversation between you and him didn’t stick, and you felt awkward. when you first got into the holy city, Phainon was definitely someone you would call a friend. he secured you a good job and a place to live, and would always try cheering you up. right now, there was an invisible wall separating you both. you could see no way around it.

"so, uhh, [name]," he began after a long pause, putting down the elegant cup back on the table, "Mydei was asking about you. i told him you were busy with work, so that he wouldn’t bother you." Phainon let out an unsure chuckle, carefully observing your expression.

you hummed in acknowledgment, taking a sip of your herbal drink. "good thing you did, else i’d have to put up with that man for gods know how long."

the image of Mydei walking unceremoniously into your surgery, and starting to pick at you made your skin crawl. you’d pick at him too, spewing insults left and right. you’d push him to the limits, watching the man come undone in front of your own eyes before the conversation would turn into a screaming match. then, you’d calm down. he’d stare at the tiles again, counting, and you would fall onto your chair with a resigned sigh. Mydei would eventually apologize, and you’d smile at him. it sounded terrible, no?

(yet you still yearned for it, the equal ruin).

Phainon laughed genuinely now, and you had to admit that happiness looked great on him. as of late, he seemed more worried than usual.

"well, i’m glad you approve of my decisions. you two really don’t get along, do you?" he mused, his gaze now trailing over to the window. perhaps the sights outside were more interesting than your face.

"no, no we don’t." you admitted in a weak voice, even though you didn’t want to sound so unconvinced. what was there to deny? someone once compared you and Mydei to two tigers — you didn’t catch on it until later, when you realized those animals were prone to killing each other in fights to death. that person was on point, much to your chagrin.

when you were unable of adding anything else to your lacking sentence, you thought it would be better for you to spend time with some other people. perhaps then you’d relearn what it means to be a normal, functioning human instead of a husk who only could spew and clash.

"oh, look at the time [name]!" Phainon suddenly called out, getting up a little bit too fast from his seat. "Aglaea wanted to see with me, and i don’t want to be late." he explained vaguely as you sent him a perplexed look, also standing up.

"a-alright then." you stammered out, taken aback by his rapid reaction. maybe he got bored, and came up with an excuse on the spot. "see you soon?"

"yeah, see you soon." he sent you a slightly nervous smile before walking out of the door. you watched him disappear, the surgery once more filled up with silence. you gazed at his barely touched tea, and decided to pour it out in the sink.

as you were doing that, you heard the distinctive footsteps outside. you didn’t even get the chance to turn around before Mydei walked through the entrance, that ever-present scowl on his face deeper than usual. you carefully placed down the cup, afraid of breaking it. it was your favorite, and you couldn’t afford to lose anything else dear to your heart, even if it was only porcelain.

"so that’s what you were busy with, huh?" the man asked, his tone low as he stepped closer to you. at first you didn’t understand what he meant, but after a second everything clicked. Phainon lied to him on your account, and then managed to spot him through your window. he left in hurry, thinking that Mydei discovering you both would only cause more problems. your heart clenched at his consideration as you observed the man with narrowed eyes.

"are you insinuating something?" you hissed, feeling the tension in the air arise with every second. "who are you to tell me what to do anyway? go find someone else to bully, because i’m really not in the mood for your bullshit."

"no, i’m not insinuating anything," he replied, venom practically dripping from his words, "i simply find it hilarious that you thought you could deceive me like that. do i look stupid to you, [name]?"

you couldn’t help the huff of irritation escaping your lungs as you looked around yourself, almost bewildered. Mydei seldom acted like that — yes, he was an absolute pain, however he has never outwardly shown his disapproval of you meeting with others. you didn’t even like Phainon in a romantic sense, and you never would. to think that this man came to such a conclusion was baffling, especially when you two weren’t even in a relationship.

"deceive you? are you crazy?" you barked out, spreading your arms apart, "you’re acting absurdly, Mydei! do you think i’m your possession, or something? you always seem to talk about how much you despise me, and yet here you are, ordering me around as you see fit!"

"it’s because—" the man paused, as if searching for the best words, long fingers woving through his hair. "you’re driving me mad, [name]! can’t you see? can’t you see what you’ve done?!" he shouted, making you want to take a step back. instead, you boldly rendered the distance between you two.

insanity. the slow descent into pits of human destruction kept dragging him down — perhaps you were much lower than Mydei, gripping his ankles and pulling — or maybe you were above, waving at the man, beckoning him to crawl out. as things were standing now, you were equal in your devastation.

"why are you blaming me?! go blame yourself, you lunatic!" you seethed, grabbing something from the drawer beside you. you paid no attention to the item in your hand, your sight focused solely on Mydei.

why do things between you always have to escalate at such a quick rate? sometimes you felt as if you were treading above an active volcano, where one wrong move could lead to a rapid eruption. you thought of yourself as the victim, and that much was foolish, as you were deeply aware you and him were both lava, and nothing else.

when Mydei failed to snap back in time, you decided to provoke him some more. "what, maybe you’re just jealous? it definitely sounds like that to me." you sneered, but the thought seemed horrifyingly real.

"why would i be jealous of someone like you?" he retaliated, even though the false denial in his expression was obvious, "look at yourself! you think that little cup will do me any harm? you must be really slow of mind." he laughed mockingly at the weapon you gripped in the palm of your hand.

to this day, you still don’t know what pushed you to such extreme. maybe it had something to do with soulties, or you were simply becoming what you’ve always hated. still, the already weakened strings which previously held your sanity together seemed to snap, and no amounts of regret could fix it.

"want to see for yourself?" you didn’t wait for the man’s response, shattering the porcelain across your tiled floor. you immediately bent down to reach for the biggest fragment, cutting yourself in the process, though you cared little for the stinging pain in your fingertips.

possessed by anger that only someone literally tied to your soul could evoke, you surged towards Mydeimos, aiming at his throat. he wouldn’t die, but the few minutes of him coughing up blood and gripping his own slashed neck would be enough to satiate you. you didn’t care that after his recovery, he’d likely kill you. leading such a life carried no sense within anyway.

("you are a medic, my sweet girl. your job is to save people, and make them happy. isn’t that a wonderful vocation? make your mother proud. i’m sure you can”).

Mydei gripped your wrists as you flailed your limbs, struggling against his strength. you kicked at his shin, your foot meeting with the golden metal, and you cursed yourself for forgetting it was there in the first place. a sickening whine of pain ripped from your throat as you realized that even if he unhanded you, letting you do as you please, you still wouldn’t be able to hurt him. after all, how could you?

the force of your efforts made you both stumble down and crash onto the hard floor, littered with sharp pieces of the cup. you felt the breath get knocked out of your chest as you gazed up at the man with wide, terrified eyes. warm blood trickled down your hand, and only then you realized just how deeply you wounded yourself. tears fogged over your vision as dry cries began to jerk your body.

(why do grief-stricken people seek resolve?)

(because they have nothing).

"i’m—" you sobbed, your voice trembling as you looked at Mydei’s equally shaken expression, "i’m so sorry! i’m so very, very sorry!" you wailed, letting go of the porcelain fragment, hearing it clatter on the ground. the man slowly released your wrists from his grasp, still hovering above you.

"stop it, [name]. i went overboard this time. you don’t have to apologize." his voice was uncharacteristically doleful as he observed your face, measuring the amount of tears with downcast eyes.

you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you. you could lie to yourself and pretend like you had genuine friends here, in Okhema— but at the end of the day, Mydei was all you had left. there was no one else. he wasn’t your home, but he was the only one who managed to stomp out the loneliness from your heart. you hated each other to the bone, and yet you still held your bodies on that cold floor, surrounded by nothing but muffled sobbing.

you were not violent. you were kindhearted, and warm, and you never would’ve thought of doing such things, however now all of it seemed repressed somewhere else. Mydei — no, perhaps entirety of the holy city — caused your breath to stop. you wished to view him in repulsion, but for gods’ sake, you knew you could not. once the summer sun will extinguish your being, up until the last cloud of smoke, you’ll be thinking of him. the soulmate mark stretching from your knuckles to wrist hurt. a pulsating kind of pain, reminding you it was still there, and you couldn’t forsake it.

"i’m so sorry…" you choked out, pressing your face into his shoulder.

"don’t be."

"i— i never meant to harm you, i just—"

"i know."

your hands gripped Mydei’s clothes, the blood from your cut already seeping over his previously clean attire and body. he didn’t seem to care, stroking fingers through your hair in attempt of showing any semblance of comfort (could he ever offer it?). you searched for something meaningful to say, but your thoughts narrowed to only one thing.

it was your favorite cup.

you chewed on the piece of meat with a twisted expression, the scar still visible between your fingers and the palm. sometimes it would itch, making it utterly irritating. the sounds of the swords clashing outside seemed to quiet down, now replaced by idle chatter. you were almost finished with your meal, and the time on the clock was indicating near evening. the day was coming to an end.

just like the food in your mouth, tasting rotten even though it looked completely fine, by the third year of your stay in Okhema things suddenly simmered down (wreck of your mind remained). the storm was no longer, thunders and lightning turning into whirlwind — still unpredictable and very much able to cause harm, but a bit more subtle. leading a war for three years straight would humble everyone, even the most capable warriors. for that, you were grateful.

the scorching sun no longer bothered you, and with enough savings you managed to buy yourself a place somewhere further from your surgery. now you didn’t have to reside in the small space, sleeping on medical bed and pretending like being caged there was no problem for you. this change brought you a certain peace of heart, as you regained at least a small piece of your independence.

as for you and Mydei — you still continued with your usual routine, although a bit less fierce. even though you never touched upon the topic, it seemed as if you shared a collective agreement that snapping your teeth at each other’s gullets brought you no good. it never did, but it took you both three years to realize.

now as you stuffed your mouth with some more vegetables, you wondered if Mydei possessed any redeeming qualities. if he didn’t, then you surely would have lost your mind a long time ago. after a short while of brooding, you came up with a verdict — he did. after that incident, it seemed like you started to notice more things. it’s not like you didn’t before, but perhaps you were buried too deep within your own sorrow to actually pay attention. the man wasn’t always awful. there were certain moments when you found common ground, and actually got along. though rare, the soultie progressed, and you felt as if some kind of understanding between you two formed.

after all, he was your soulmate, wasn’t he?

you sat down on the ridge of a big fountain, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. the weather was nice for a change, skies colored with a mesmerizing hue of yellow as the rain stopped pouring a few minutes ago. your clothes were soaked, but that didn’t matter, the cool on your body soothing you. you had a hard time at work today, so you wished for nothing more but a moment of rest — alas, it seemed like the universe wanted to mock you some more.

"look who we have here." a booming voice came from your right making you jump up, even though you were all-too-well accustomed to its sound. "what, don’t tell me you got caught up in the rain?"

"Mydei, give me a break…" you groaned, rubbing at your temples. he was the reason why you had to sweat so much today, and the mere sight of his face already made your blood pressure skyrocket. "are you aware you’re the reason why so many people came to me today?"

from what you’ve gathered, some fools decided it would be a great idea to spar with the Kremnoan prince. nobody wanted to admit to being the originator of the concept, though Phainon appeared especially nervous. you decided against pressuring him into speaking, as he was already injured enough. while you tended to the wounds, sewing the broken skin and putting gauzes to them, everyone kept murmuring one word: 'Mydeimos.' yes, that definitely made sense.

"it’s their fault for being overly-confident." he huffed, sitting down beside you, his eyes fixated on two birds jumping cheerily in a puddle. "if you’re not at least slightly afraid of your opponent, of course you’ll underestimate them, and fail. a pathetic mistake."

"well," you began, stretching out your legs as you captured his expression from the corner of your eye, "i’m not afraid of you at all. does that make me pathetic?"

even though your words sounded a bit exaggerated, it was the truth. throughout all of your fallouts and vicious arguments with Mydei, there was never a time where you were genuinely scared. maybe of yourself — but not of him. over the time you have learned to trust your gut, and right now it was telling you that your soulmate wasn’t a threat. yes, he throughly enjoyed making your existence filled with various anxieties and hardships, but did he ever rise a hand at you? you tried to literally slit his throat, and yet he didn’t even look offended, meanwhile most people would have strangled you unconscious.

his eyebrows rose slightly as he turned his face towards you. "is that so?” he didn’t seem to believe you, doubt arising in the honeyed irises.

"yeah," a humorless, dry chuckle escaped your lips as you studied the look he carried with great attention, "the sun will go out before i’m truly afraid of you. i have no reason to, anyway."

perhaps you should have reasons, because one of Mydei’s glares was enough to render someone unmoving. you watched him fight before, and the enemies seemed to be nothing but mere rag-dolls to him. a mentally-sound person would be trembling in respect before him — unfortunately for you, you were far from that, hence why you had to put up with all of the shouting and arguments.

"how can you be so sure, [name]?" Mydei mocked, but his comment lacked in real bite. it fell as something lighthearted on your ears, urging you to continue.

"if you really wanted to harm me, i’d be beheaded by the time i first threw a plate at you." that evoked a poorly contained snicker from him, and you couldn’t help but smile along. "and you’re… you’re not a bad person, Mydei— at least i don’t think so. bad people don’t play with children, nor do they bake pastries in their free time."

Mydei looked at you as if you just offended his whole lineage, way too dumbfounded to respond. you shook your head, an involuntary huff of laughter slipping past your lips as you took in his baffled expression. "you thought i wouldn’t notice?"

"well— well, obviously—" he forced the words out, struggling to compose a proper sentence, utterly embarrassed. "Phainon must have told you, right? he must have. oh, when i get my hands on that little—"

Phainon didn’t tell you anything. it’s just that after three years of knowing someone, people usually become aware of such things. you vividly remember Mydei playing hide and seek with a group of Kremnoan children, even if a little begrudgingly. it was one year ago, and Krateros asked you to relay some informations upon him. you can’t quite recall what it was, but you remember it being grim — normally you wouldn’t care, but it somehow made you feel somber. you didn’t want to ruin Mydei’s moment of peace, so you simply stood behind a pillar, watching the man count down as kids ran around trying to find the best hiding spot. after a while you departed, thinking it would be best to tell him later.

the other thing — precisely speaking, his baking hobby — you discovered by accident. after a long working day, you spotted Castorice and Tribbie eating something. you didn’t mean to stare, but they eventually noticed your longing gaze and invited you to sit with them. it was rare for you to share a meal with anyone, so you gratefully accepted one of the profiteroles. it was delicious, and the girls giggled at the way your eyes lit up. Tribbie explained those were a gift from 'De', as they liked to affectionately call him. you were surprised to hear that, and even thought about using that as a leverage in one of your many arguments, but eventually abandoned the idea. it wasn’t a bad activity. actually, you found it quite endearing, as far as your positive feelings towards Mydei could go.

you sighed, looking up at the yellow sky as you pleaded the gods for more patience - then, you focused back on the man. "Phainon didn’t tell me, and i don’t perceive any of those things as something you should be ashamed of. they’re good qualities. at least i know you still have a heart, Mydeimos." you grumbled, rolling your eyes.

his features seemed to relax a bit, as if the cause of his stress was based solely on your opinion. "well, aren’t you the sweetest." he murmured, a bit dryly.

you hummed in response, watching Mydei suddenly turn his face away from you, his expression obscured by the blonde locks. before you could say anything else, he pulled himself up, and started to walk away. for a second, you contemplated whether you should call after him, but decided to keep your mouth shut. it was rare for you both to share a conversation so civilized, without any crude remarks or insults. you didn’t want to ruin it for yourself, so you watched his silhouette slowly fade into the crowd of people.

and that was it. sometimes, you’d pace around your room and wonder whether you held any love for him. somewhere, in the deepest corners of your soul, the answer perhaps lied. you would have to dissect your body over and over again, searching for it, until you’d finally find the core — oozing with the venom of a rattlesnake, covered in wildflower petals. being in love, what does it feel like? were you even capable of it?

your scorched mind couldn’t grasp the concept, so you decided to leave it unanswered. even though you yearned for it — even if you wanted to catch it like a butterfly, gently nursing against the palms of your hands. contradictions are an inevitable part of the human nature. soulmates were a curse of sorts, and nowadays it seemed as if you were close to giving in. remaining hellbent took a toll on you, and the line between "surrender" and "acceptance" started to blur. still, you would never forget the torment he brought upon you. Mydei won’t forsake the thousands of your spiteful actions either, their ever-presence hovering just a few steps behind.

in a metaphorical sense, it seemed as if you both were constantly throwing up on each other. reduced from humans to mere specimens, created only to claw at one another’s throats, and then crawl back into the warm embrace as the bloody wounds made your bodies shake with cries. nothing less, nothing more.

the fork in your hand scraped against the ceramic material, forming an unpleasant sound. there was nothing left on your plate. the disgusting dinner gone, replaced with smudges of sauce and vegetable scrapes. you frowned when you suddenly heard the knocking on your door, characteristic enough for you to recognize who was standing behind them. you placed the dish onto your desk, sitting back on the bed. usually you’d be stomping to the door, ready for another clash, vicious words already on your tongue. however, now all of your bared teeth was gone. nothing made sense, and you were worn.

"come in." you called, smoothing out your attire from any wrinkles.

the door opened slowly, and a second later you were already facing Mydei. you sent him a questioning look, taking notice of his slightly slumped form. did he injure himself while sparing? no, that wasn’t possible. you observed him carefully, waiting, trying to deduce what the issue was. maybe those annoying pains were getting to him again.

"i was looking for you." he announced, his tone depraved of any kind of ire he’d still sometimes grace you with.

"you know i’m usually at my place during evening hours." you replied, your eyebrows narrowing together. "did something happen?"

"no." Mydei sighed, taking a few steps forwards. "i just wanted to see you, [name]."

you sent him a chary smile, noting the unabashed tone of his voice. honestly, it took you by surprise, but somehow you understood what he meant. it was always like that — you wished to never talk to him again, yet you felt as if you were conjoined.

(grief-stricken people seek resolve, as they have nothing — and once it’s caught by their fangs, they won’t let go, no matter how much pain it brings in its wake).

Mydei’s expression was a little absent, stripped from the usual high-awareness. "you seem tired." a soft mutter left your lips as you gently grabbed his fingers and tugged towards you, wondering whether he was getting enough sleep.

"maybe a bit." he admitted, kneeling by the side of your bed and wrapping his arms around your waist. you let him without any hesitation, watching as he put his head on your lap.

moments of intimacy were not a part of your everyday life, however there were times when one of you would unravel and lean on the other person. humans needed connection. they needed touch, warmth, affection. those were things you’d never use to describe the relationship with your soulmate, yet you couldn’t resist the sparse comfort when offered.

Mydeimos was much nicer to you in your head. your conversations didn’t usually go as planned. sometimes, when you felt the side of his face press into your neck as you let your healing energy flow through his spine, you dwelled on things he harbored within his heart. after you were done, he’d retract his body away from yours and send you a fleeting glance, filled with grudges and dismay. you’d scowl back, thinking how nice it would be to never see him again.

you ran your fingers through his golden locks, feeling at how soft they were in contrast to their owner. whenever the man got tired — genuinely tired — he’d always become so docile. the rise and fall of his chest was meek, and you would’ve thought he wasn’t breathing at all if you didn’t look closer. the same hands that ripped his enemies apart were now cradling you, as if your body was made out of glass. all the hatred and rage was gone, replaced by silent agreement to let this moment last before you’d be back to spitting at each other.

Mydei never opened up to you. you didn’t know what he went through in the past — all the horrors and trauma shaping him into who he was now. it must have taken a lot of effort to stay gentle, at least in a certain way, hidden away from the eyes of others. you leaned down, watching his relaxed face as you trailed over the tear-shaped tattoo with your intent gaze. when you felt Mydei press himself further into your lap, one conclusion appeared clearer than anything you managed to deduce throughout those three years of bloodborne struggles.

no matter what, all wolves dream of being a dog.

#mydei x reader #my thoughts ⤑#it was written on a whim with no previous preparation #might be canon divergent #i believe in open interpretation of this piece #though as an author i feel inclined to say it’s not romantic #and i’m not romanticizing nor condoning anything!#okay that’s all lol #hsr mydei #mydeimos #mydei #honkai star rail mydei #mydei x you #mydei x y/n #hsr x reader #honkai star rail

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moopiter · 7 months ago

Text

What Do You Get the Man Who Has Everything?

Homelander hates his birthday, fake pleasantries and gifts, but he loves his secret significant other. Homelander X GN Reader, 1.4K little drabble.

Ao3

---♡︎---

Cheers and applause ring out from the TV.

It’s Homelander’s birthday.

Even if it’s a day Vought handpicked for ultimate viewership, at the very least it’s still his day.

You’d watched the celebration cross-legged in front of the TV, taking in every detail of his expression. It was dark now, of course. Normally he would’ve snuck off to your apartment by now, but these were peak viewership hours. Your heart clenched, trying to will some semblance of happiness into him across the city, wishing you could tell him he wasn’t alone.

He knew you were watching. His little secret he kept hidden away, tucked inside an unsuspecting apartment in Manhattan.

He’d smile, wave, and say his little lines like the good poster boy he was. Well, until he could sneak away to his little slice of heaven and get away from it all.

You tied off the last bit of yarn in your nimble fingers. It was plush and soft.

The little stuffed eagle you’d been pouring your heart into momentarily blocked your line of sight of the TV as you held its delicate body in front of your eyes.

What do you get the man who has everything at his fingertips, and nothing at the same time?

Do you get him something one of his assistants could bring him in a second? Soap or cologne he’d only pretend to like? Another nonsensical book he wouldn’t really read? There wasn't any good options, nothing truly heartfelt.

It took weeks to crochet, and learning how to do it was no easy feat.

“Thank you again, everyone, for the birthday wishes! But I want all of you to remember—you're the real heroes!”

Your eyes glanced behind the plush creature you’d made to the TV.

His eyes were sad even though he smiled so brightly.

He hated today; he always did. But it was attention, and he’d take it, even if it only rubbed salt farther into his wounds.

Never knowing his real birthday, and never getting to have a genuine, sincere celebration made it hard to put on a fake one.

It was his first one since he’d taken a liking to you, and you’d fix that. Looking back on all the stupid televised celebrations they'd put on for him for years, it made you sick thinking about how truly alone he must've felt all those years before you'd met him.

You sighed as you grabbed the doll needle, threading it with ease. It slid past the soft yarn like nothing and hooked through the little black eyes you’d picked out. You worked gingerly, love in each stitch.

The little crochet eagle came to life in your hands.

His charismatic voice brought the show back to the forefront of your mind. “-Goodnight everyone!” He fake smiled and waved as he finally walked off stage, but it quickly turned into a scowl just before the camera panned back to center.

Yep. That guy was totally fired.

You hugged the little eagle close to your chest as you stood, smiling quietly to yourself.

It fit inside the little box you’d picked out snuggly.

You set the package on the little table in front of the couch, turning to fluff the pillows and blankets you’d set out to make the night as comfortable as possible.

The program behind you switched to Cameron Coleman. Homelander’s birthday special was officially over.

You absentmindedly turn off the TV off with a click.

It took a lot to keep your fluttering heart under control. Butterflies.

He’d be home soon; his real home.

This wasn’t somewhere he had to be someone else. It took a long time to get it through to him, but he didn’t put the fake smile on for you anymore. He came to you vulnerable, jealous, angry. It didn't matter if he was soaked in blood or soaked from the rain, you’d always understand.

The unmistakable ruffle of his cape caught your attention. You looked up just as his red boots graced the concrete balcony on the other side of the glass.

He was smiling, but those blue eyes of his were still sad.

You hurried over to the door, you’d fix that.

The dull throb in his chest eased as he smiled back at you earnestly.

You smiled brightly as you flung the door open, grabbing his hand and dragging him inside the little sanctuary you loved sharing with him. “Happy Birthday!”

The weight of the world left his shoulders as he crossed the threshold, letting you drag him along.

He always loved your forwardness about things.

You gave him understanding eyes as you led him over to the soft space you’d made for him. “How was it? Did you have fun today?”

“You know it’s not really for me.” He sighed as he gathered his cape to the side and sat down. It really wasn’t, none of it was.

You smiled, gently cupping his face for a moment to gaze into his eyes. “I know, I know.”

The rest of the world would never see the suffering he hid so carefully. He’d shown his pain and loneliness to you alone, the only one who’d ever hold him like this. He loved attention, but the care and compassion you always showed him was beyond any of that. For you, he was a gentle giant, pliant in your hands.

Your heart fluttered in your chest as your fingertips left his jaw, moving to grab the little gift from the table to lighten things up a little. “But I am! Aaaaaand-” You held the modest box out happily. “So is this!”

He smiled genuinely. You’d even lined the box with cheap sheets of zinc. Good thinking.

“Why are you so nervous?” He chuckled as he took the fragile thing in his hands, setting it in his lap.

Of course he could tell; he could read people better than they could read themselves.

You sighed as you sat down beside him. “I just really hope you like it.”

He scoffed. “You don’t have to be nervous! I’ll love it. And the zinc—now that was a good touch. I haven’t gotten a surprise gift like this since... well, that wasn’t exactly a gift."

His thoughts would go anywhere but where either of you wanted them to.

“Stop thinking! Open it!” You gestured to the box with a laugh, glancing back and forth between his expression and the box excitedly.

Your heart beating faster in anticipation was music to his ears.

He’d play nice and give you what you wanted. Besides, he wanted to know why on earth you could possibly be so nervous about something so trivial.

He lifted the little cardboard lid, the little box slipping out from underneath it and landing back down in his lap ceremoniously.

A little pair of black eyes stared back up at him.

Your little heart was pattering away like a rabbit as you waited for his reaction.

He scrunched his brows and smirked, gently pulling the little guy from the box and holding it awkwardly, turning it in his hands. “Where’d you get this little guy?”

You shifted a bit, twiddling with your thumbs. “I made it for you.”

He paused for a moment, still holding it out in front of him.

“You—you made this?” He smiled, looking over the bundle of soft yarn and stuffing with a newfound appreciation as he looked over the loops of yarn.

You nodded happily.

His eyes weren’t so sad, but he still seemed wary. “You really made this just for me?”

You laughed as you nodded again. He always needed reassurance, but you were always ready to give. Your heart wasn’t hammering anymore, just beating sweetly as you looked at him with those caring eyes like always. “Just for you. Do you like it?”

He seemed so taken aback it was almost funny.

“Like it? I love it! I-I don’t even know what to say. This is… perfect.” He smiled as his eyes finally met yours. He’d never had a stuffed animal, let alone one so special. “Thank you.”

You smiled ear to ear as you practically jumped on him, wrapping your arms around him tightly. “I’m so happy you love it so much!”

He laughed lightheartedly. “This is the best gift I think I’ve ever been given.”

You laughed sweetly, snuggling against him just a little tighter.

He leaned back, pulling you against him with one arm and holding the little stuffed eagle protectively in the other, matching your genuine smile as you both relaxed into the couch.

“I’ll cherish it forever. Just like you.”

#i usually don't post my writing like this tell me if i did it wrong #It being Antony's birthday put me in birthday mode #homelander x reader #homelander #the boys fanfic #the boys #my writing

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rose24207 · 2 months ago

Note

Hey, could I request a oscar piastri x reader spy!au with like, the rest of the grid being involved in the same spy agency as well (like lando being a strategist for calls or some shit?).

I was led down this hole by someone on insta and I need a brain itch scratched to see Oscar as a spy because genuinely, your mafia!lando fics are AMAZING!!!!

- 🌿

No distractions

Summary: In a world where attachments are dangerous, you and Oscar fight to ignore the growing tension between you—until a life-or-death mission forces a kiss that feels far too real to be just a distraction.

Spy!Oscar x spy!reader

Genre: fluff, undercover

TW: guns, undercover, Carlos being the getaway car lmfao

A/N: I cracked up while writing that! But it was really nice!! Thanks for the request!!

Navigation

If there was one rule in the world of espionage, it was never get attached.

You had learned that early on.

In a world where trust could be your downfall and emotions could be weaponized, attachments were dangerous. Deadly, even.

And yet, despite knowing better, you had broken that rule for him.

Oscar Piastri. The agency’s most efficient field agent. Unshakable, precise, and impossibly calm under pressure. He was a master of blending in, slipping through enemy lines unnoticed, taking out targets before they even knew he was there.

And the one person you could never seem to stop thinking about.

Which was a problem.

Because if there was a second rule in the world of espionage, it was never fall in love with your partner.

The mission was supposed to be simple. Infiltrate the gala, recover the stolen drive, and get out unnoticed.

But, of course, nothing ever went according to plan.

“You’ve got eyes on the target,” Lando’s voice crackled through your earpiece as you adjusted your gown, subtly scanning the lavish ballroom. “North side, near the bar. Blue suit. Looks like an absolute prick.”

“Be more specific,” you murmured, your lips barely moving as you took a sip of champagne.

“The one flirting terribly with the blonde in the red dress.”

You spotted him immediately—Christian Horner, a known arms dealer with a penchant for overpriced whiskey and selling government secrets. He had what you needed: a hard drive containing classified intel that could compromise the agency.

“Got him,” Oscar’s voice came through, steady as ever. You didn’t need to look to know he was somewhere nearby, watching.

“Good,” Lando replied. “Now, stick to the plan. No improvising, no distractions—”

“Yeah, yeah, we got it,” you interrupted, rolling your eyes. Lando was a brilliant strategist, but god, did he love to micromanage.

“Just saying! I don’t need another Monaco situation.”

You huffed. “That was one time.”

“And I’m still cleaning up the mess,” Lando shot back. “Now, go. I want to be in bed before midnight.”

With a quick glance at Oscar, you both moved. You slipped seamlessly through the crowd, your practiced smile in place as you made your approach.

“Mind if I join you?” you asked smoothly, sliding up next to Horner at the bar.

His gaze swept over you, lingering just a little too long. “Well, aren’t I lucky?”

Oh, this would be too easy.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Oscar taking up a position nearby, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. He was the backup, the silent shadow ensuring nothing went wrong.

You leaned in, letting Horner think he was in control as you laughed at some half-witted joke. His ego made him careless. Distracted. Which was exactly what you needed.

Your fingers brushed against his wrist, your practiced sleight of hand so seamless that he didn’t even notice when you lifted the drive from his pocket.

Too easy indeed.

But just as you turned to leave, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Something was wrong.

“Oscar,” you murmured under your breath.

“I see them,” he replied immediately, his voice suddenly sharper. “Four men, moving toward you. Armed.”

Shit.

Lando’s voice cut in. “You need an exit, now.”

Your heart pounded as you calculated your options. The front entrance was blocked, the emergency exits compromised.

“We don’t have time for subtle,” Oscar muttered, stepping up beside you as if he were just another guest. “Follow my lead.”

And then, before you could react, he kissed you.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant—it was firm, calculated, a perfect distraction. His hand slid to the small of your back, pulling you against him as if you were nothing more than a couple lost in each other.

But beneath the surface, you could feel the tension in his body.

“Stay close,” he murmured against your lips before pulling away, his hand slipping into yours as he led you through the ballroom.

The men hesitated, unsure whether to act in a crowded room.

That hesitation was all you needed.

You moved quickly, weaving through the guests, slipping past security until you reached the back hallway.

“Carlos,” Oscar spoke into his mic, already pulling a weapon from his suit jacket. “We need an extraction.”

“I’ve got a car waiting in the alley,” Carlos responded. “But you’ll have company.”

Of course you would.

You barely made it to the exit before the first shot rang out.

Oscar pushed you behind cover as chaos erupted. Guests screamed, ducking for cover as Horner‘s men opened fire. You pulled your own weapon, firing back with precision.

Oscar moved beside you, every shot perfectly placed, every motion calculated.

“We need to move,” he said, grabbing your hand as he led you toward the alley.

Carlos was waiting, the car door already open.

“Get in!” he yelled.

You didn’t need to be told twice. You slid in first, Oscar following close behind as Carlos floored the accelerator.

The sound of bullets hitting metal rang in your ears as you ducked down, clutching the stolen drive to your chest.

“Well,” Carlos panted, weaving through the city streets. “That could’ve gone better.”

You shot Oscar a look. “Did you have to kiss me?”

A smirk ghosted across his lips. “Seemed like the best distraction.”

Your heart was still racing, though you weren’t sure if it was from the gunfight or the feeling of Oscar’s lips on yours.

Lando’s voice crackled in your ear. “So, I’m guessing the ‘no distractions’ rule didn’t apply tonight?”

You ripped out your earpiece.

Oscar just smiled.

The mission was a success. The drive was secure, the intel recovered, and Horner? Well, he wouldn’t be causing problems anymore.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

The way he had shielded you without hesitation. The way he had looked at you during that kiss—like, just for a moment, it hadn’t been an act.

And that terrified you more than any mission ever could.

Because attachments were dangerous. Deadly, even.

And yet, you had already broken the rule for him.

And, judging by the way Oscar was watching you now, his usual mask of indifference slipping just enough for you to see the truth beneath it…

You weren’t the only one.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @ipushhimback, @ladyoflynx, @lewishamiltonismybf, @cmleitora, @hmma3 , @same1995, @amatswimming, @llando4norris, @dr3wstarkey, @hurtblossom, @ernegren, @esposamultifandom, @darleneslane

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hotchnersangel · 3 months ago

Text

GIRL, SO CONFUSING!

Aaron Hotchner

a/n: i’ve been watching an awful lot of love island so this is very angry girl staying composed confrontation core.

warnings: jealousy, oc! vs you, bombshell!reader, angry girl core, (not an accurate representation of beth in the show),

————————

Aaron Hotchner was a proud man, not in a bad way, quite literally the opposite. He had built up his reputation, he had loved and lost but that had never been his priority. He somehow felt content in his life with different kinds of love, like the one he felt for the bau team, or... well, you. It was different to the team, it made him comfortable. He knew you, and you knew him. Everyone knew you as a pair, if you were seperate, well that would be awkward. Though, your platonic love hadn't been a relationship, not nearly. Maybe the lines between platonic and romantic were hazy sometimes but that did not mean that you were together, You were both adamant that you were not, always shutting people down when they suggested the idea of it.

Recently, Aaron had started seeing a new woman, her name was Beth. She was sweet at first and she stayed that way to the team, though it didn't feel that way with you. Overtime, she seemed to reject yours and Aaron's relationship, which you didn't like because he could be friends with who he likes. You would understand if you and Aaron had a history, but you didn't. Simple, you were friends, best friends and Beth tried to accept it, but she didn't. Instead, you resulted in pretending to get along with one another, though you all know that it's so far from the truth.

The bau were round Rossi's house, having a 'family' dinner and coincidentally you were sat opposite Beth, forced to stare at her the whole evening. Deep joy.

"So, Beth... you got your hair done?" You try start a friendly conversation with her. In return you get a short smile and a nod.

"Yeah, I did." She replies and you awkwardly smile at her, not knowing what to reply.

"You guys are twinning now..." JJ tries to break the ice but it had the opposite effect, Beth just straightened her posture and tried to pass the comment off. The silence on our side of the table was thick, the raw unspoken awkwardness of a lack of common ground.

"You guys do say we are alike..." you say nonchalantly, trying to diffuse some tension with some humour.

Beth laughs and shakes her head. "I don't see it."

You give JJ a look sharing unspoken pleas for a new convo topic, you hide your smile behind your wine glass as you take a sip.

"So," JJ looks at you with a smile, "How is that boyfriend of yours doing?" This catches Hotch's attention now as he joins in the conversation.

You laugh, "I mean... it is a bit of fun really but I don't think it's anything serious." you shrug, telling them the truth.

"I never did like him really," Aaron shrugs, smiling at you and you laugh shaking you head. "Believe me, I know you didn't."

"I think you should see how it goes," Beth says and shrugs and everyone looks confused at one another, considering all she knew about him was that he was a bit of 'fun'.

You laugh awkwardly, looking at Aaron who furrowed his brows slightly but brushed it off.

After dinner, everyone joins on the backdoor porch, sitting on the luxurious garden furniture. You were sat with Emily and JJ, observing the way Beth was practically all over Hotch.

"I really don't understand your relationship with her." Emily says bewildered.

"I genuinely can't tell if she wants to see me falling over and failing and honestly, I sort of feel the same to her." You say looking at them both now. "I'm trying to be nice but I think i really dislike her... like come on, the new hair?"

"It's a bit of a coincidence considering the fact that her man fancies the shit out of you and suddenly dresses, acts and now looks like you," Emily shrugs casually and JJ hits her playfully but has a serious tone when scolding her.

"What do you mean?" You ask furrowing your brows and laughing, "Aaron doesn't like me in that way babe."

"For profilers, you are both in extreme loss of social awareness," Spencer walks past as says, taking a seat next to Emily. "Around 85-90% of people can be considered to lack a significant social awareness because they don't fully understand their own self-awareness, for example-"

"What Pretty boy is trying to say pretty lady, is that you and Hotch are in love but you don't see it yet." Moran waltzes in and states, bringing along a gushing Garcia and Rossi.

"Aaron's happy. I want him to be happy and I truly think he is with Beth." You state, diverting the conversation. Beth and Aaron walk over after that comment and you smile at them.

"Beth, I'm having a party for new years round mine... you should come." you offer kindly, wanting some peace considering she is dating your best friend.

"I don't really do parties." She retorts.

"Come on, it will be good to put your hands up a bit, have a little dance." You offer with a smile and she smiles awkwardly in return.

"I think i'll leave that to you babe." She smiles passively agressive at you. "I'm in a happy relationship."

You furrow your brows, "What's that got to do with anything?"

Everyone is watching the two of you bounce against one another now, flicking their heads like they're watching a tennis match. You're even sure you saw Rossi pass Emily a handful of popcorn.

"It means, I dont go whoring around babe." She smiles patronisingly and everyone looks shocked.

"Beth-" Aaron tries to step in.

"No- Aaron, I can handle this, thank you though." You say kindly to him, looking back to Beth. "No wonder you're so tight Beth, because I'm having a party? How am I a whore?"

"That's the type of party I see you throwing," she shrugs.

"That's an orgy babe," you retort, "Clearly you're opinions are too fixed to comprehend that not everyone's actions are centred around male validation."

She scoffs, "You're a fine one to talk like that. Clearly it's something you crave if it's all you look for in my boyfriend, hear that, mine. It's why you can't get in your own loving relationship babe."

You actually laugh in her face, the others trying to bump in but you stop them. "Girl, you're so confusing sometimes. I genuinely can't tell what I have done to give you the impression that I would 'steal' your boyfriend, whether I liked him or not, you should one have trust in him to not do that to you- which Aaron by the way, clearly would never do, and two, I am not the type of girl to go after another girl full stop. Whether it is her or her man, you don't do that as a woman, babe."

"Oh and you're so perfect aren't you?" she shoots back.

"Perfect enough to tell you that you don't have to change your appearance to look like me because you believe that your boyfriend is in love with me." You state quieter, knowing everyone had concluded that, but wanting to keep her confrontation private.

"You're a self centered bitch, you know that?"

"You know, we are totally different after all. You need to berate other women to feel good about yourself and I do not. Please, do yourself a favour and work on those thoughts. Be kinder to yourself and you will feel less worried about these things." You state directly.

"Aaron, we're leaving." she gets up angrily, walking to the door.

"No, Beth. You're leaving." He says crossing his arms and moving besides you, placing his hand on your shoulder in support. "I think you made a decision for me."

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#aaron hotchner #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotch imagine #bau!reader #bau team #hotch x you #hotch #hotchner x you #hotchner x reader #agent hotchner

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schlatt-love-bot · 4 months ago

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yuck! - schlatt x reader

now listening: yuck - charli xcx 0:01❍─────── 2:19 ↻ ⊲ Ⅱ ⊳ ↺

[part one (currently reading), part 1.5, part two, part three]

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Schlatt was never fond of “love,” the idea of falling in love or being in love with another person quite literally made him feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t like the commitment—it upheld a standard within his mind that he felt he would never be able to reach, like he wasn’t a good enough person to be ‘boyfriend’ material. Thinking about the pressure of a relationship, needing to be a support for another person other than himself, the planning of dates, the pressure to get married…it had put his stomach in knots regularly. He did, however, crave the physical aspects of being in love, the tender touches, light kisses…especially the sex aspect of it all. That’s how he got himself wrapped up in hookup culture, needing a sexual release without the expectation of flowers and dinner afterwards.

When he was young and made this decision, he didn’t really care who he was hooking up with, his numbers weren’t that big on YouTube quite yet, and so he wasn’t really afraid of a subscriber meeting him off Tinder or Bumble and trying to expose him for his personal life online. As his numbers grew, though, his anxiety about being exposed as a one night stand man began to go through the roof. That’s where you enter the picture. You and Schlatt met each other during a particularly boring elective class you both needed to take to get your degrees in college, being partnered for a group project where you learned you both had the same outlook on the class and had similar hobbies. Having met Schlatt during his brief college days, you knew of his commitment issues and never judged him for his one night stand escapades. Schlatt appreciated the fact that you respected him and his lifestyle choices, most people (especially his mother) never understood why he couldn’t find it in himself to settle down. You, however, understood the inner fear he felt towards love and relationships, and you got why he relied so heavily on casual flings to meet his needs and desires.

When he started making it big as a streamer and on YouTube, it just so happened to line up with a time in your life when you became single, after a two-year long relationship you thought had good prospects of being together forever. Distraught, you came to Schlatt, who told you he knew that relationships were a bad idea, and that he tried to warn you about all that before you committed to that “dickwad”.

“See, this is what’m talking about! Relationships are so fucking stupid…now you’re sittin’ ‘ere sobbing on my couch, for what?” He said, gesturing a hand towards you before bringing his glass of whisky up to his lips, rolling his eyes as he took a sip. You were laying on his couch, tears slowly rolling down your cheeks, glaring at him as you knew he knew you came over for comfort, not judgement.

“Jesus…shut up, dude! I get you’re not into all that stuff…but I thought we had something real. He seemed so genuine…” You croaked, throwing a pillow at Schlatt as he raised his hands to defend himself.

“Yeah, yeah…he was a real genuine guy..especially when he was genuinely between that other chick’s legs…” he laughed, picking up the pillow to place it back beside you, as he leaned down to wipe the tears from your cheeks. You huffed, crossing your arms as you looked away from him.

“Not. Funny.”

“I know it’s not. It’s seriously fucked up.” He said, continuing to wipe away the tears that came, rubbing small circles through your hair in an attempt to calm you down. “I told you, you should just do what I do. There’s no pressure..”

He left it at that, letting you ever so slowly get over your ex with his care and support. The entire time, though, you thought about what he had mentioned—to partake in his lifestyle, how there was no pressure. Soon enough, he came to you with his own proposition.

“Listen…you don’t have to say yes. I know we’re friends, and I don’t want this to twist that all up…but…I can’t keep seeing randos on these dating apps…the last one started talkin’ to me about L’Manberg after I came on her stomach…” he said, his hand snaking around to his neck as he looked down at the floor, hearing you chuckle at his experiences. ��Are you..asking me to be your hookup partner?”

“If that’s whatcha wanna call it, toots…”

“No strings attached, right? Just…meeting each other’s physical needs?” You asked, contemplating the idea in your mind. You would admit, you had always wondered how Schlatt was in bed, with the amount of times he had gone out and slept with someone, coming back to you with new stories of positions and other levels of spice you had never considered taking into the bedroom ever before. Not to mention, he wasn’t a bad looking guy, either. There was always a small voice in the back of your head telling you that he was attractive, and that you could change his ways. Plus…you needed your own distraction and to have your needs met while you got over your ex, so what better way than doing that with your good friend, Schlatt?

“Exactly. We still remain good friends…but when we have needs…we meet them, together.” He said, laying out an exact plan that would include rules and consent.

“Oh, and of course. Not falling in love. Sorry, sweetcheeks, I’m not gonna be interested.” He laughed, writing down the last rule on this makeshift contract he began writing before scribbling his name at the bottom.

“Of course…of course. Are you seriously making me sign this thing? It means nothing, legally…” You laughed, picking up the pen he slowly pushed towards you.

“Yeah, I mean it’s not gonna legally mean anything, but it’ll show us if things get…tricky…that we started things with the same intentions, right?” He had no idea why he felt the need to draft up this contract of sorts—he was firm in his belief that he would never, genuinely fall in love with someone, but there was a fear about this in the back of his mind. He had himself convinced that it would be you falling for him and ruining this whole ordeal.

“I guess you’re right…” You said, your voice quiet as you scribbled your name on the bottom of the paper, before meeting his gaze.

“So…when did you wanna start all this?”

“Hmm, no moment quite like now, right, toots?” He laughed, scooting closer to you as he placed a hand on your cheek, “If that’s alright with you, of course…”

His voice trailed off as you let out a giggle, rolling your eyes. You leaned in, kissing him on the lips, leaving him shocked that you initiated without hesitation.

That was about 2 years ago now, and since then you and Schlatt had come nearly inseparable. The contract still stood—neither of you were to have feelings for one another, but were to support one another platonically other than in the bedroom. The only recent amendment to the contract was when Schlatt decided that the two of you should move in together, so that your hookups could be done on a more frequent basis, as it’s what he “needed.” You were already on the hunt for a new place to live, your old apartment becoming too expensive to live on your own in, so you agreed.

As time went on, you felt yourself wanting more. Wanting the simple, quiet moments with Schlatt something more than just a fuck buddy. Wishing that when you were in the kitchen cooking dinner that Schlatt would walk by, wrap his arms around your waist, and whisper something nice in your ear. Instead, you were met with the occasional slap on the ass, and a joke about how you’d make a nice housewife, but not for him.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when you find a husband, toots.” He would always joke, showing you that he knew you needed something more, something concrete and committed, but also communicating that he knew he wasn’t capable of providing you with those experiences.

You hit a point where you couldn’t take it anymore, though, taking matters in your own hands. You knew the root of the problem was internal fear Schlatt felt, that he wasn’t a good enough person to be able to be committed to someone, and that he needed to improve himself before being able to commit to anyone. He had gotten so used to his hookup lifestyle, though, he felt no pressure to “improve himself” like he had explained to you years ago, though, and so you knew you needed to start adding that pressure on him.

“Flowers? Who bought you those?” He said, seeing an arrangement in a vase on the kitchen counter as you were making something at the stove.

“Oh, no one bought me those. I bought those for you.” You said, nonchalantly, putting down the spoon you were using to look over at his reaction. One of his eyebrows began to raise, as he inspected the flowers once more.

“Respectfully, I don’t need any flowers, sweetheart, but I appreciate the sentiment. What’s with them?” You shrugged your shoulders, leaning against the stove with crossed arms.

“No particular reason…just saw ‘em at the store and thought of you. That’s all.” You say, seeing a slight pink tint come across his cheeks. You could tell the gears in his brain were turning, he was trying to think of a logical, platonic reason for why you would do this, but he wasn’t able to come up with one. You returned your focus to the stove, your pot nearly boiling over now from being neglected.

“Well…thanks, sweetcheeks. Guess ‘m gonna have to repay you for these later, hmm?” He growled, slapping your bottom before going into the fridge to pull out a drink, disappearing back into his office. You sighed, knowing you were going to have to try harder.

“C’mon, don’t you think it would be fun? We live by the mountains, afterall…”

“Stargazing? The fuck do I look like…your boyfriend?” He scoffed, pushing around the pasta you made on his plate, as you sighed, putting your head in your hands.

“No! God, you’re taking it out of context,” you sighed, shaking your head, “Friends do this type of shit, too, idiot. I just thought it would be nice to get away for a weekend, away from your 17,000 different channels and business ventures, let you clear your head for a day or two before coming back to the chaos.”

He began to think silently, leaving you hanging. He was trying to figure out your motive, slowly over the last few months he had noticed your attempts to break down his tough, outer shell, trying to get under his skin and grow closer to him. First, he thought you were trying to be a better friend, but now the line between friend and lover was getting blurred, and the more he thought about it, the sicker he began to feel. He was confused, himself, never quite feeling the way he felt about you with any other person before, none of the women he would see quite regularly made him feel this way, either. When he was around you, he felt…domestic. An urge to protect you, keep you safe, and he had no real clue as to why. The feeling in his chest as of late was so foreign, he often wondered if something was seriously wrong with him—he mentioned in passing the other day that he thought he needed to see a doctor, something about having a heart arrhythmia or something. Was it you blurring this line, or was he unconsciously blurring it himself? The idea made him sweat, and so he once again swallowed all the thoughts and tried his best to press forward.

“Mmm, well..when you put it that way…it does sound kind of nice.” He refused to look up and make eye contact with you as he confirmed plans. You smirked to yourself, feeling as though your intentions were finally setting on him, and that soon enough you could, maybe, call him yours for real.

“Good, cause I already booked a stay at a nice cabin, ‘bout 15 minutes from here. Go pack your bags and let’s get going!” You say, clapping your hands together excitedly, your things already packed since you were going, regardless of his decision. He began to laugh, shaking his head as he stood up, heading to his room.

“What the fuck is up with them…” he muttered under his breath, going through his dressers to find a few t-shirts to throw in his bag.

“Really tryna ruin a good fuckin’ thing, aren’t they…” he couldn’t help himself from feeling a bit angry. He was slowly beginning to realize that you were wanting more, you were getting yourself attached to him not only physically, but emotionally as well, and that you were trying to coax him into believing he was becoming emotionally invested in you as well. It was confusing, to say the least, because on one hand he truly felt as though he was turning a new, uncomfortable leaf—he found himself caring about you, how your day was, how you were feeling, and wanting to connect with you on a level he hadn’t ever connected with someone before, but at the same time he was so stuck in his ways that he didn’t want to think about you as anything more than friends with benefits. His confusion has now shifted to anger, anger that you were trying to get more out of this than he was willing to give, and anger at himself that he was even considering changing his ways for someone other than himself. He finally got his bag all packed, trying to think of this little get away as a break from work, rather than stressing himself out over his feelings and your own.

He rejoined you in the living room, seeing you checking your phone, keys in hand and your own bag placed on the ground at your feet. You hadn’t noticed him standing there quite yet, rather engrossed in something you were reading on your phone. It was at that moment Schlatt realized his heartbeat was getting quicker once again, feeling butterflies beginning to stir within his stomach.

Ugh, he thought to himself, I feel like I’m going to be sick…what the fuck is happening to me?

Almost as if you could hear his inner dialogue, you looked up from your phone, smiling at him standing there looking dumbfounded with his bag in his hands. You slid your phone in your back pocket as you picked up your own bag.

“Ready to go? Let’s enjoy this weekend, hmm?”

“Let’s get this show on the road…” his voice droned on, trying his best to make it seem as though he wasn’t looking forward to spending a weekend alone with you, not having to worry about anything else.

Night began to paint the sky full of stars, as Schlatt fed the woodfire heater inside the cabin to keep you both warm overnight. You sat, wrapped loosely in a blanket on the couch watching him, a mug of hot chocolate sitting nicely in your hands. Since arriving at the cabin, you both already had a few rounds of slow fucking on almost every surface you could find available inside. It was an attempt in Schlatt’s mind to solidify that the only connect you two shared was sexual, not romantic in any way, but after the last round when you glanced up at him with a twinkle in your eye, he began to think it was game over—something in his perspective was shifting. You could tell he was working through something internally, usually after a round he would be a gentleman and help clean you up, make sure you’re comfortable before going back to whatever it was he was doing before, but after your last round, he stared you in the eyes for what felt like forever, his eyes widened before he shook his head, grumbling something about feeling disgusted, leaving you alone on the bed you had finally made your way to in the end. You sighed, running your hands through your hair, unsure of whether or not this trip away was going to work or end up in the way you were anticipating in your mind. With the way he was acting, you’d think you did something seriously sinister to him, and he wanted to get away from you forever. Getting yourself cleaned up, you now found yourself on the couch watching him from afar.

He finally was satisfied with how the fire was going, enjoying the sounds of the crackling wood in the somewhat uncomfortable silence he had created between the two of you. He turned around to see you comfortably watching him, wondering what his next move was going to be.

“You mentioned stargazing, didn’t ya?” He said, sitting gently next to you, afraid if he came on too strong he might say something he regretted, or you would do something that would solidify the change he was terrified of.

“Mhm, wasn’t sure if you remembered, honestly…” your voice trailed off, sounding a bit hurt from having your pride bruised back in the bedroom. Him leaving you like that filled you with doubt—maybe he didn’t want to be more than friends with benefits, afterall, and you’ve just been living in a big bubble of delusion.

“Of course I remembered…c’mon now.” He said, standing up as he gestured a hand to you, offering to pull you up from the couch. You placed your mug to the side, reaching up to grab his hand and stand up yourself. Silently, you followed him as you both adorned your jackets back on, slipping on some boots as Schlatt reached over and grabbed the blanket you were once wrapped up in. You both walked out of the cabin in silence, finding a secluded spot a little bit away from the cabin, but in a clearing large enough that you could make out the stars and their constellations from underneath the trees. Schlatt laid the blanket down on the grass, sitting down before looking back up at you.

“Are you gonna come down here and join me, or are you just gonna stand there, toots?” He chuckled, patting the spot next to him on the blanket. You let out a breathy laugh, sitting next to him before glancing up at the sky. Admiring the stars together, the silence quickly became comfortable, not tense as it was a few minutes ago. When Schlatt laid down on his back, he tugged at your jacket, signalling you to join him, to which you quickly obliged. Your head on his chest, you could ever so softly hear his heart beating intensely, making a smile creep up on your face.

“What’s that one called…?”

“Hmm…maybe Ursa Major? Kinda looks like a bear…doesn’t it?” He hummed, his arm wrapped around your shoulder as his other hand continued to point out different constellations above you. You couldn’t help yourself from looking up at him, seeing how the stars reflected in his eyes caused you to fall deeper than you ever thought possible.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” He said, confused why your gaze wasn’t directed at the stars any longer.

“Have I ever told you just how…handsome you really are, Schlatt?” You said, seeing his eyes grow a bit wider than before. He felt a now familiar heat creep across his cheeks, as he said a silent prayer that you couldn’t tell just how rosy his cheeks have now become.

Fuck. Not this lovey dovey shit…

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EDIT: Part 1.5 is out now! Smut, and smut only, so reader discretion is advised! Enjoy~ AND PART TWO! READ IT HERE :)

ANOTHER NOTE: FINAL PART OUT NOW!! Thanks for your love & support!!

#jschlatt x reader #schlatt x reader #jschlatt #jschlatt x you #schlatt #schlatt fic #schlatt fanfic #schlatt x you #schlatt x y/n #jschlatt fanfic #jschlatt fic

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tinytinyblogs · 12 days ago

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Why not? Just move in with me darling!

The moment they realize you're not where you belong

Hyung line, Maknae line

💬 Update again life’s been such a rollercoaster lately, with so many ups and downs. But through it all, I hope whoever’s reading this is having a good day. Sending you the warmest virtual hug! ❤️

Stray Kids Masterlist 1.0 & 2.0

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

Han

Han's cheerful demeanor disappeared the moment you refused his offer. His usual bright eyes dulled instantly, replaced by something far more wounded—something far more dangerous. “You don’t love me enough, do you?” he asked, voice low, almost broken. You tried to explain, to make him understand, but he wasn't listening. In Han’s mind, love meant saying yes without hesitation, without conditions. And if you truly loved him, you would have agreed to move in without a second thought. That night changed everything. Gone was the playful, light-hearted boy you thought you knew. In his place was someone colder, someone who didn’t bother hiding his resentment. Slowly, without you even realizing at first, Han began isolating you from everyone you cared about. He called your friends bad influences, claimed they didn’t truly have your best interests at heart. When you tried to defend them, to stand up for the people who had been with you long before him, he didn’t argue. He simply stared through you, as if your words didn’t matter. Because to him, they didn’t. Bit by bit, he chipped away at your world until the only safe place left was him. The scariest part was how natural he made it all seem. He masked his manipulation behind smiles, behind sweet words, behind concern that seemed genuine.

He wasn’t cruel outright he was clever. Calculated. When isolation wasn’t enough, he escalated. Suddenly, Han grew sick. Or so he claimed. At first, it was minor headaches, fevers, dizziness. Enough to make you worry, to make you drop your plans to be by his side. Then came the injuries. A twisted ankle. A fall down the stairs. Incidents that always happened when you mentioned leaving, always just serious enough to make you stay a little longer. You knew, deep down, something wasn’t right. But every time you tried to pull away, he would look at you with wide, pleading eyes, as if his entire existence depended on your choice. One evening, as you sat by his bedside, wiping a cool cloth over his forehead after he claimed another fever, he reached for your hand. His grip was weak, trembling, but unrelenting. “Stay,” he whispered, voice cracking with emotion. His thumb brushed over your knuckles in a desperate, shaking rhythm. “Because I can’t… If you go, I don’t think I’ll survive.” The words burrowed deep inside you, heavy and suffocating. How could you walk away from him now, when he looked so broken, so fragile? How could you live with yourself if something happened to him? And that was exactly what Han wanted. Not your love freely given but your love trapped by guilt.

Felix

At first, it seemed like he accepted it. When you told him you didn’t want to move in with him, his bright smile faltered, dimming like a light being slowly snuffed out. His eyes glazed over with something close to quiet distress, and for a moment, you almost regretted your decision. Almost. “Okay,” he said in a low, flat voice, the sound so soft it barely reached your ears. It wasn’t angry or pleading. It was... disappointed. But more than that, it felt final, like he had heard you and accepted it. You wanted to believe that. You needed to believe that. But you were wrong. The next day, you came home from work, exhausted and ready to collapse into bed only to find the door to your apartment unlocked. Panic spiked in your chest as you rushed inside, only to be met with a sight that made your stomach churn. He was there. In the middle of your living room, wearing that same bright, sunny smile you thought you had crushed just yesterday. Except now, it didn’t feel sweet it felt wrong. All around him were boxes. His boxes. His clothes. His books. His life. unpacking into yours. You stood frozen, watching him hum to himself as he arranged his things neatly around your apartment like he belonged there, like he always had.

When he finally noticed you, he didn’t look guilty. He didn’t look apologetic. He looked happy. “Finally,” he said with a grin that lit up his whole face. He dropped a stack of books onto your coffee table like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Since you didn’t want to move in with me,” he continued, stepping closer to you, “I decided to make it simple.” You opened your mouth, but no words came out. He didn’t seem to mind. He closed the distance between you, his hands brushing your arms in a touch that should have felt comforting but instead made your skin crawl. His smile softened just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “I moved into your apartment instead,” he said, as if it was the most obvious, reasonable thing in the world. His voice was full of affection, the kind of devotion that could suffocate. “Well, after all,” he whispered, his forehead nearly touching yours now, “you should be near me, shouldn’t you, sweetheart?” You could feel the walls closing in, feel the invisible cage snapping shut around you. Because deep down, you knew this wasn’t a compromise. This wasn’t love. This was ownership. And you had just become his favorite possession.

Seungmin

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, his expression unreadable, voice calm eerily so. “That’s not the right answer,” he says, as if he had already predicted your response but was quietly hoping you’d choose differently. There’s no anger in his voice, no raised tones, just a firm finality that sends a chill through you. It’s not a warning it’s a confirmation. He knew you’d resist, but he also knew what he’d do next. Because Seungmin doesn’t argue. He acts. He is methodical. Brutal, even. When things don’t go his way, he doesn’t sulk or beg he simply takes control. And when you said no to moving in with him, he didn’t plead or ask again. He simply let it hang in the air, gave you that look that said everything without words. A look that said, You’ll regret this. And then darkness. You wake up suddenly, the world blurry and your head pounding. There’s a sharp pressure behind your eyes, a dull ache that throbs with each beat of your heart. You sit up slowly, confusion spreading through your foggy mind as you take in your surroundings. This isn’t your bedroom. It’s far too neat, too cold yet familiar in the worst way. Your things are here.

Your favorite hoodie, your toothbrush on the sink, your books stacked beside his. It’s all been arranged around his apartment like you’ve been living here for weeks. But you don’t remember a single moment of coming here. You blink, trying to make sense of it, and then your eyes land on him. Seungmin is sitting just a few feet away, relaxed, watching you with calm, patient eyes. There’s no guilt in his gaze, no shame. Only satisfaction. “How do you feel, darling?” he asks, his tone gentle, almost affectionate. “You’re home now. Don’t worry. Home sweet home with me.” He stands, taking slow steps toward you. There’s a slight smile playing on his lips, not quite warm, not quite cold. Just... certain. “I hope you understand now,” he continues softly, as if he’s giving you a life lesson instead of terrifying you. “When I say something, I mean it. You belong here. With me. And when you don’t listen…” He leans in, voice dropping lower, more intense. “Well, I’ll make sure you do.” You freeze, heart racing. Your instincts scream at you to run, to scream, to fight but something about his composure is paralyzing. There’s no chaos here. No mess. Just his quiet obsession. And it hits you. You didn’t move in with Seungmin. He moved you in.

Jeongin

Jeongin’s lips form a soft pout the moment you refuse him again. It’s subtle, almost boyish, but the glint in his eyes betrays something far more dangerous simmering beneath the surface. He doesn’t react violently, not yet. He just stares at you for a beat too long, his jaw tight, as if he's holding something back. Then, with a forced smile, he lets it go, for now. But he doesn’t stop asking. Day after day, the same question lingers in the air like a ticking clock. “I just want to keep you safe. Is that so bad?” he says with a calm voice, but there's a tension in it that unsettles you. At first, you try to laugh it off, brush it aside, pretending it’s nothing serious. But he keeps pushing, keeps repeating it like a mantra. Eventually, the persistence wears on you. It becomes suffocating. You snap. “I already told you I’m not moving in with you, Jeongin! Why won’t you just drop it?” The words hang in the air, sharp and unforgiving. And in that moment, something in him shifts. It’s subtle at first just a twitch in his brow, a slow exhale through his nose. But then his smile fades, and the real Jeongin steps into the light. The one he’s been trying to hide.

The one you've been lucky enough not to meet, until now. “I see,” he says softly, voice low and flat. “So that’s how it is.” Before you can respond, he moves. In one swift motion, he grabs your wrist tight enough to hurt. His grip is no longer gentle or playful. It’s demanding, bruising. His eyes no longer hold warmth or affection, only obsession and frustration. “How many times do I have to tell you to move in with me?” he growls, shaking your arm as if trying to rattle the resistance out of you. You try to pull away, but he’s already dragging you toward the corner of the room where a few empty boxes sit, boxes you hadn’t noticed before. He kicks them harshly, the sound echoing through the apartment like a gunshot. “Pack your stuff. Now.” His voice is cold, unrecognizable. “Don’t make me do it for you.” You freeze, heart pounding, breath caught in your throat. The boy who once spoke sweetly to you, who claimed he only wanted to protect you, is gone. Replaced by someone who sees your refusal not as a choice, but as a challenge. And challenges don’t end well with him. In his mind, you’re not rejecting him. You’re just resisting what’s inevitable.

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b14augrana · 1 year ago

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Portrait

When Alexia decides to give into her curiosity and sit down at one of the street artist stalls stationed on a busy Parisian road, she leaves with something more special than a self portrait.

Alexia Putellas x reader

masterlist

Warnings: straight fluff and bad translations but dont worry its only short x

A/N: ALE RENEWED WE CAN ALL REJOICE!! 🙏

The strong Parisian sun beat down on the heads of locals and tourists alike as they walked down the crowded streets. You were perched on a stool, staring intently at your canvas as you gently painted the smile lines of a lovely old lady that stopped by your stall.

You loved your job for this very reason. You knew how hard it was to love yourself from your own perspective; you hoped to do every individual person’s beauty justice with your paintings.

Of course that wasn’t enough income on its own so every morning you found yourself in one of the local bakeries either working behind the scenes or at the front counter. Baking and painting were jobs you loved and found so similar because they both resonated with your desire to indulge in art wherever you could find it, and to you they were the simplest forms of art.

“And… I’m done. Here’s your finished portrait, madame,” you said with a smile, lifting the canvas off the easel and gently setting it into the woman’s arms.

“Je ne peux pas te remercier assez, ma chérie ! C'est beau, merci,” she replied, admiring it with tear-brimmed eyes hidden behind her glasses. You said your goodbyes and watched her walk off with a grin on her face, and then you picked up a fresh canvas and placed it on your easel.

You didn’t have time to shake your head at the many smudges of paint on your clothes as another person approached you.

“Hola!” a woman’s voice spoke, making you look up curiously. Standing before you was a blonde woman smiling slightly, gesturing to the stool behind the easel. “May I sit?”

“Of course,” you nodded, returning her smile and swirling your paintbrush in some fresh water as you prepared to paint her. “You’d like a painting, no?”

“Yes please. Also, forgive me for saying hola — I forget that I’m not in Spain,” she laughed, inciting a giggle from you.

“It’s okay. I do the same when I’m outside of France,” you added, dipping the paintbrush into some fresh paint before grazing the canvas. “So, you’re Spanish.. what’s your name?”

“Alexia. I’m here for a holiday, because I’ve finally got some time off work,” she explained with a huff. You smiled behind your easel, painting the woman’s chiseled bone structure with intricacy as you added to her face.

You liked her already. You had barely said anything to her, but something about her was genuine.

“Are you with anybody?” you asked, curious to know more about her. She nodded her head, “Only two other people, my friends Lucy and Ona. They’ve gone on a wine tasting date, which is why I’m here.”

You laughed softly as you rinsed your paintbrush. “And you? Do you have anyone to go wine tasting with?”

“Next question,” Alexia responded, smiling through laughter. You began to paint her eyes and faintly outline her nose.

The rest of the time you spent painting every detail of her face flew by as you two talked and got to know more about each other. You learned that she was a professional footballer and lived in Barcelona, which you thought was very cool. She asked about your life and you told her that you were a born and raised Parisian who spent the rest of her days at home or in the bakery. You weren’t really concerned about yourself though; you were busy looking at her, and not for the purpose of the painting.

When you had completed the last strand of hair and placed the last freckle on her portrait, the sun had dried most of it already. As she stood up and picked her purse up, you flipped the canvas around and scrawled something on the back with a slight smile.

“There you go. Thank you, Alexia,” you said, handing her the painting. She gasped quietly as she admired it, and she looked at you for a moment before pulling you into a hug. “Thank you, chica!”

Even after she pulled away, her perfume clung to your skin like glue. It smelled sweet but not overwhelming… like coconut and caramel with an undertone of musk and vanilla hints. It smelled exactly how you imagined it to smell.

As you said goodbye, you didn’t reach for a fresh canvas. Alexia turned away, holding the newly painted canvas in her hands with her head down, her eyes fixed on it. She stood stagnant for a moment, scoping out every detail, and then she turned it over.

“Llámame, hermosa :)” was written on the back, followed with your phone number and a quick sketch of a flower bouquet. She immediately turned her head to glance at you over her shoulder, but you were occupied with someone else.

When she turned back around, a smitten smile was plastered across her face and she couldn’t help but feel giddy to get back to her hotel.

After another second, you looked up from your canvas, your eyes completely skipping the person sat in front of you and wandering over to the direction that she had walked in, watching the blonde woman disappear down the street.

“Est-ce que tu vas peindre ou quoi?” an irritated voice snapped from behind your easel.

“Désolé!”

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iamgonnagetyouback · 7 months ago

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ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ tutor

synopsis: ever since you started tutoring neil in acting, you've been convinced he's absolutely terrible. but when your dad casually mentions neil’s got a play today, you realize you might've been played all along content warnings: fluff, neil being a little menace, mutual pining

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 928

You were hunched over a pile of scripts, watching Neil Perry give another, well, unique interpretation of a soliloquy. His voice cracked with emotion, but… in all the wrong places.

"To be or not to be…" Neil began, attempting Shakespeare with the passion of a man on a mission. Unfortunately, that mission seemed to involve single-handedly destroying the Bard’s finest work.

You let out a long sigh, head in your hands. "Neil, what was that?"

He stopped mid-line, flashing you a sheepish grin. "Was it really that bad?"

You nodded gravely. "Like… epically bad."

Neil chuckled, scratching the back of his head. "Great. Then I’ll take it from the top?"

"For the fifteenth time today?" you groaned, shaking your head. "I don’t know how you’re going to pull this off."

"I have you," he said, flashing a confident smile.

That line always got to you. Even if he was hopeless at this, his heart was in the right place. So, despite every fiber of your being telling you to give up and leave him to his stage fate, you stayed. You spent hours together in the Dead Poets' Cave, rehearsing line after line, hoping, praying for a miracle.

A few days later, you were leaving the house when you spotted your dad, Mr. Keating, all dressed up and heading for the door.

"Where are you going, Dad?" you asked, curious.

He glanced back at you with that trademark mysterious grin. "Oh, didn’t you know? Neil has a play today."

Your brain went into overdrive. Neil? The Neil Perry who couldn’t deliver a line to save his life? The same Neil who, just yesterday, had confused Hamlet’s death scene with some kind of impromptu interpretative dance?

"Uh… what are you talking about?" you asked, baffled. "Neil’s terrible at acting. I’ve spent hours tutoring him, Dad. Hours. He's a lost cause!"

Mr. Keating just raised his eyebrows and gave you the look. The one that said he knew something you didn’t. The one that made your stomach drop with realization.

Oh.

"Wait…" you stared at him, wide-eyed. "Are you telling me—Neil’s been… pretending to be terrible this whole time?"

Keating chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "He wanted more time with his tutor."

Your face flushed instantly. "I—I’m gonna kill him!" you sputtered, grabbing your coat in a rush. "He’s been wasting my time on purpose?"

Keating just smiled knowingly. "I think you’ll want to see the play first."

You stormed into the auditorium just in time to catch Neil on stage, and what you saw nearly knocked you off your feet. There he was, front and center, commanding the stage with ease, delivering lines with power and grace. His timing was impeccable, his emotions raw and palpable. The audience was absolutely enchanted. He was… perfect.

Your mouth hung open in shock. You had spent hours trying to get him to say one line right, and here he was, playing his role like he was born for it. You could barely process what you were seeing.

As the curtain fell and applause erupted around you, you pushed your way backstage, still fuming but also feeling a tiny bit impressed. Neil had some explaining to do.

When you found him, he was in his dressing room, still in costume, grinning like a little kid who had just gotten away with something massive.

"You…" you pointed an accusing finger at him, words failing you. "You’ve been acting like you couldn’t act?"

Neil smirked, casually leaning against the wall. "It worked, didn’t it? We got to spend more time together."

You sputtered, torn between being completely exasperated and, well, flattered. "Neil!"

He stepped closer, his grin softening into something more genuine. "I couldn’t help it. I needed an excuse. You’re a great tutor, by the way."

Your face flushed hot, and you crossed your arms, trying to hold onto your anger. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet, you’re still here," he teased, his voice warm and playful.

You rolled your eyes but couldn't help the smile creeping onto your face. "So, let me get this straight—you’re actually good at this? You just made me sit through hours of you being awful on purpose?"

He nodded sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. "I might’ve… exaggerated my incompetence. A little."

"A little?" you exclaimed, laughing despite yourself.

Neil stepped closer again, his eyes soft with affection. "It worked, though, didn’t it? I got to spend time with you. And… I think it’s safe to say I learned more than just acting."

You shook your head, half annoyed, half charmed. "You’re ridiculous, Neil Perry."

He beamed at you, stepping even closer, the warmth of his presence making your heart flutter. "But you like me that way, right?"

You opened your mouth to protest, but Neil leaned in, catching you off guard as he whispered, "Admit it."

You narrowed your eyes playfully, trying to maintain the upper hand. "Fine. But next time, maybe just ask me to hang out. You know, like a normal person?"

Neil laughed, the sound rich and contagious. "Deal. But you have to admit, my method was more fun."

You couldn’t help but laugh too, the tension evaporating as you finally allowed yourself to enjoy the moment. “I hate how much I like you.”

He grinned, clearly thrilled by your confession. "Likewise."

The two of you stood there for a moment, grinning like fools, and you couldn't help but think that, even if he'd tricked you, it was worth it.

After all, he really did put on one heck of a show.

#⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ivy writes ༄.°#neil perry x reader #neil perry #dead poets fandom #dead poets society #dead poets society x reader #the dead poets society #dps x reader #dps fanfiction #dps boys #dividers by strangergraphics

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sweetlyvibe · 3 months ago

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𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 – 𝖠𝗄𝖺𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂 𝖪𝖾𝗂𝗃𝗂

𝗛𝗢𝗪 𝗛𝗘 𝗔𝗦𝗞𝗦 𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗢𝗨𝗧 :

◞ 💋 ﹒ He thought about how to ask you for weeks, carefully considering every possibility. He knew he didn’t want something loud or overly dramatic—it wasn’t his style. But at the same time, he didn’t want it to feel like just another regular day. He wanted it to feel special.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When Bokuto suggested a big, public confession—maybe yelling it across the gym during practice—Akaashi just stared at him blankly. “I’d rather not make them regret knowing me,” he said dryly.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He thought about all the little details that made you you—the way your fingers absentmindedly traced the edges of your notebook, the way you smiled to yourself when reading something you liked, the way you always seemed to appreciate the quiet things in life.

◞ 💋 ﹒ That’s when he realized… he didn’t need some big moment. He just needed something personal.

◞ 💋 ﹒ The night before Valentine’s, he carefully wrote a small, cream-colored note card. It wasn’t overly poetic or dramatic, just a few simple but genuine lines:

I’d like to spend Valentine’s Day with you. If you say yes, meet me outside after school tomorrow at 5:00 PM. If you say no…. That’s okay too. I just wanted you to know.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He tucked the note inside your book when you weren’t looking, placing it between the pages of the one he always saw you reading. He knew you would find it. And then he waited.

𝗪𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗛𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗘𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗘𝗗 :

◞ 💋 ﹒ He thought about what kind of date would make you feel comfortable. He knew you weren’t someone who needed flashy, extravagant gestures to be happy—you preferred quiet, meaningful moments.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When he found a little bookstore café tucked away in a peaceful part of town, he knew that was the perfect spot.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He reserved a corner table near the window, where the streetlights would cast a warm glow onto the pages of any books you picked up. The air inside smelled of coffee, old paper, and vanilla—subtle, comforting.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He thought about how much you loved small details, so he made sure this place had all of them. A soft atmosphere, the hum of light conversation in the background, and the kind of space where time felt slower, more thoughtful.

◞ 💋 ﹒ The gift was trickier. He wanted something meaningful, something that would remind you of him whenever you saw it.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When he finally found a beautiful, leather-bound version of one of your favorite books, he didn’t hesitate. It was perfect.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He imagined you running your fingers over the embossed cover, the way your face would light up when you realized it wasn’t just any edition—it was something chosen just for you.

◞ 💋 ﹒ On the inside cover, he wrote a simple but sincere message:

This reminded me of you. Happy Valentine’s Day. —Keiji

◞ 💋 ﹒ He wasn’t nervous about the date itself—he was nervous about making sure you felt how much he cared.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗗𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗜𝗧𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗙 :

◞ 💋 ﹒ Akaashi stood outside at exactly 5:00 PM, his hands tucked into his coat pockets, exhaling softly as the crisp evening air settled around him. He told himself that if you didn’t show up in the next ten minutes, he would head home. No pressure. No expectations.

◞ 💋 ﹒ And then, at 5:02, he heard footsteps.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When he turned, his heart did something strange—a quiet, steady kind of excitement settling in his chest. You came.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He gave you a small, genuine smile. “You’re right on time,” he said, even though his watch said you were two minutes late. He wouldn’t have cared if it had been two hours.

◞ 💋 ﹒ As the two of you walked side by side, the city around you felt calmer than usual. Maybe it was because of the time of day, or maybe it was just being next to him. Either way, the silence between you wasn’t awkward. It was easy.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When you arrived at the bookstore café, your eyes widened slightly as you took in the warm, inviting space. Akaashi noticed. He always noticed.

◞ 💋 ﹒ “I thought you might like it here,” he said simply, watching for your reaction. When you smiled, something in him relaxed. Good. That’s what I wanted.

◞ 💋 ﹒ The two of you spent the evening flipping through books, sharing quiet conversation over coffee, and occasionally reading aloud to each other whenever one of you found a particularly interesting passage.

◞ 💋 ﹒ There were no grand speeches, no over-the-top romantic moments—just small, quiet things. The way he absentmindedly refilled your drink before you even noticed it was empty. The way he watched you from over the top of his book when he thought you weren’t looking. The way his voice softened slightly whenever he said your name.

◞ 💋 ﹒ Near the end of the night, he finally pulled out the book he had picked for you, sliding it across the table with a calm, steady expression.

◞ 💋 ﹒ “I thought you might like this,” he said, watching your fingers brush over the spine, your touch delicate like you were already treating it as something precious.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When you opened it and saw the note inside, your expression shifted—something quieter, softer.

◞ 💋 ﹒ You looked up at him, and in that moment, he felt it. That silent understanding that this wasn’t just a simple Valentine’s Day gift. This was him telling you everything he hadn’t said out loud.

◞ 💋 ﹒ The walk home was slower. The cold air made your breaths visible, little clouds of warmth disappearing into the night. Every so often, your shoulders brushed against each other, a subtle reminder that neither of you wanted to rush this moment.

◞ 💋 ﹒ “Did I do okay?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual. It wasn’t a joke or teasing—he genuinely wanted to know.

◞ 💋 ﹒ When you nodded, he let out a slow breath, like he was finally allowing himself to relax. “Good.”

◞ 💋 ﹒ Without thinking, he reached out—just briefly—his fingertips brushing against yours before letting his hand drop back into his pocket.

◞ 💋 ﹒ If you took his hand instead, he would pause for a fraction of a second, eyes flickering to you in surprise before his fingers curled around yours, his grip warm and steady.

◞ 💋 ﹒ He wouldn’t say much after that. He didn’t need to. The slight squeeze of his hand was enough.

◞ 💋 ﹒ “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on you for just a moment longer before looking back ahead, a quiet, content smile forming on his lips.

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bellesdreamyprofile · 2 months ago

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The Great American Novel - Austin Butler

summary: you're a recently published author as you start dating hollywood's hottest actor austin butler, year after year the pressure becomes unbearable and the distance between the two of you gets more noticeable. will you two call it quits or keep pushing for a better end? — 3k words

You first met Austin through a secret set-up that Callum forced you both to be part of. You had no idea about his plans until you were sitting across from Austin in a café in New York. Words of pleasantries were always exchanged between the two of you, since you both hated the idea of being rude to somebody. He was in a relationship, you were in a relationship — you were never riding the same wave. Until you were, and Callum found out, immediately taking the situation in his own hands.

That coffee date changed your life.

"I'm staying here for the next few weeks, I gotta movie lined up.", Austin explained, swirling the coffee in his mug.

You hummed in interest. "Really? So you don't live here?", the blonde shook his head, his blue eyes back on you.

"I live in LA. From time to time I go back to Orange County. Nostalgia.", his lips curled into a small smile. "What brings you to the Big Apple?"

Your hands curled around your mug, absorbing all the warmth possible. "I, uh, I was recently published and I have a book presentation in two days so...", you tried to play it as if it were no big deal, keeping your ego to the minimum.

Austin's eyes widened as he leaned forward. "No way, congrats! That's so amazing!", the genuine happiness in his tone, made you shyly look up and the spark in his eyes was truly something else. You had never met anyone so truly happy for somebody else's success.

"Yeah, thank you. Uhm, I've got one copy on me if you're interested, of course.", your voice shook a little at the thought of handing the Austin Butler a piece of you. Another smile took over his face as he enthusiastically nodded.

"Sure, I'd love to read it.", he bit his lower lip, watching you reach in your tote bag to grab your creation. He was sitting across an author, somebody that brought simple words to life. You slid the book in his direction and he smiled yet again, grasping it and analyzing the cover. "I know the saying is don't judge a book by its cover, but this is gorgeous."

You laughed, nodding a little. "Thank you, I designed it myself.", he looked up, his lips parted.

"Just— Wow... I need an autograph, like right now—", he stuffed his hand in his own tote bag and pulled out a sharpie, handing it over to you. "I mean— if that's okay with you, that is."

With a chuckle, you grabbed his sharpie and opened the book, automatically finding the title page. You signed your name and wrote some words dedicated to him.

To Austin, may our paths cross again. With love, Y/N

Your words to Austin manifested into your reality, for your paths crossed more than once after your coffee set-up date. You were in Boston for another book presentation when Austin called you, asking how to reach you.

"It's just— I finished your book and I'm absolutely in love with it and— I really need to see you."

You pressed your phone against your chest, right above your heartbeat as the words still lingered in your ear. "Wow, thanks Austin—", and then you told him where to find you, your hotel, the hall you were gonna be interviewed in.

Even when your whole focus was on the book — your own creation, your own art — you were still able to spot him in the crowd of people. An easy jacket hugged his figure and a baseball hat hid his hair, his eyes were low, but you knew he was looking at you and you only.

The Q&A part followed and you found yourself answering the questions with profound words and simple smiles. People stood up to get their book signed and your heart soared — someone resonated with your work and here they were. One by one got their title page signed, until one last person was standing in line.

"Hey, I think I know you.", you said playfully and Austin immediately smiled, his hand reaching up to remove his hat.

"You were incredible.", you blushed at his soft words and instinctively stood up to face him. His arms opened as he welcomed you into a hug, like it was no big deal, like that was what you usually did. Your lips curled into a smile against his chest, enjoying his warm embrace.

"I know I already got your autograph—", you chuckled at his words, the vibration right over Austin's heart. "But I think you should change the inscription."

"Oh?", you pulled back slightly to look at him, your hands still wrapped around his waist. "You didn't like the other one?", your words were playful, for you knew exactly what he meant. "I thought it was pretty accurate."

Austin shook his head, a small laugh tumbling from his lips. His hand untangled from your body to grab the brand new copy of your book he had stuffed in his back pocket.

"I still got the original.", he said smiling a little. "But I think I need more.", you raised your eyebrow at his words. "Since your words became reality...", he didn't need to add anything else. You smiled and grabbed the book from his hold, finding your seat again.

You signed your name and wrote words you hoped would turn into reality. The book was shut as you handed it back to him. Austin went to open it, but you put your hands on top of his, stopping him from doing so. His curious eyes found yours in a split second.

"Read it when you get back to your hotel room.", you withheld a breath, anxious of what that could mean. Austin nodded and bit back a grin.

"Alright.", your hand tingled as you moved them away from his, and you secretly wondered if he felt the energy between you two as well. "Wanna grab a bite?", he asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes. You simply nodded and with a shy smile, you walked out of the hall together.

To Austin, may our paths cross and stay intertwined forever. All my love, Y/N

Once Austin read what you had written in the book, he asked you out on a date in the city you were touring in next. He told you all about his next movie and then endlessly talked about your book, showing you what he highlighted and underlined. He pointed at a word he had never heard before and then rambled about a character he particularly liked. His dedication was truly touching.

With other men, you found yourself questioning whether or not you'd be a good fit together or if they even liked you back. You didn't wonder with Austin, because you felt that shift of energy — his heart was beating for yours as much as yours was beating for his. There was no question about that.

A week later, you started dating and suddenly coffees weren't as bitter and the rain wasn't as bad. He made everything better, year after year.

You didn't know when it started happening, if it was your schedules that were all consuming or if you were both in a mood. But the coffee started tasting bitter again and rainy days made you sad. It felt like you weren't riding the same wave anymore.

You weren't in synch anymore. The need to call him for good news was gone, knowing he would talk all about his new role with a hot, new director. Austin worked in between locations, losing track of time and forgetting about the things that mattered the most.

"Hey baby— I can't make it tonight.", he pressed his phone between his shoulder and ear. "Jeff wants us to get another—"

Your sigh fell heavy on his chest. "Yeah, I know... Another take, reshoot, I get it.", you sounded tired.

"You okay?", his ridiculous question made you want to laugh and curl up in front of a sad movie at the same time. Another sigh filled his ear as you exhaled unspoken words.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Was kind of looking forward to our date.", you said, glancing at your watch. "Haven't seen you in a while."

Austin grabbed a towel and started drying his hair — out of focus. "I know baby, but next week I'll be there, I promise. Oh— before I forget. Callum said he was gonna be in town and I invited him to stay at our place. You don't mind, right?"

You shook your head and popped some popcorn in your mouth. "No, not at all. I love Cal."

It was Austin's turn to fall silent for a moment. He couldn't remember the last time you said I love you. "Good, good. He, uh, he's coming by in two days."

"Okay.", he heard from the other end. "Well, have a good evening, honey. I'm gonna go watch a movie."

His lips formed a small smile. "What's the movie of choice?"

"I don't now yet. Probably Grease? Need something to cheer me up."

A heavy breath fell from Austin's lips. Every time he thought the conversation was going well, it suddenly wasn't anymore. "Yeah, that sounds good. I gotta go, love you.", he paused, waiting for your last words, his heart squeezing at the gnawing feeling in his stomach.

"Bye honey."

Your love was consuming. You were both consumed.

Two days later you found yourself in the same café you had met Austin years prior. Though your boyfriend wasn't there, Callum showed up instead. New York winters were no joke and the need for a hot beverage was almost more important than what you had to tell him.

Once you were both sitting and all warmed up, Callum spoke up.

"Isn't this the place where I tricked you both to come?", his mischievous grin was contagious as you laughed and nodded.

"This exact seat too.", you pointed out.

Callum told you all about his new girlfriend and how happy he was, your focus was on his eyes and the way they sparked as he talked about her. You couldn't remember the last time you saw that look on Austin.

Your eyes welled up with salty tears as you released a shaky breath. Your friend stopped talking and reached his hand to yours. "Hey, you alright?"

The sparkle in his eyes was gone and the cause was you. You interrupted him with your issues and insecurities — were you the reason why Austin's eyes stopped shining?

You simply shook your head, unable to speak, knowing that if you did, you would break. Lips were pressed together to prevent any embarrassment and eyes were fixated on the table.

"Y/N.", he tried again, his hand nudging at a napkin under his fork and knife. You grabbed it and wordlessly patted your under eyes. Your hands then reached for your water and that was when you were grateful for the hidden corner in the café.

"Talk to me.", Callum's tone was encouraging, reminding you of the endless time he told you to let it out, so you would feel better.

You breathed in and then looked in his eyes. "I think... Austin and I...", you shook your head, unable to say the words out loud. Cal's eyes widened in surprise, but he remained quiet.

"It's just... He's been so busy lately and he hasn't been calling as much.", you started slowly, your gaze lowering on your tea. "The problem is that... I've gotten used to that."

Callum nodded, bringing his elbows on the table as he listened intently.

"And I hate that I'm used to his silence, to his lack of effort.", you brought your hands together, toying with the ring Austin had given you. "I don't even know if I love him anymore."

"Jesus.", Callum muttered, his head shaking. "I, uh, I talked to him the other day and he sounded odd. Maybe that's why."

You looked up in question.

"He feels the tension too.", his honesty took you aback. Was Austin feeling as stuck as you were? "But listen, Y/N, that's probably temporary, right?", a small smile was painted over his lips. "You've overcome much worse, right? Remember when you were all the way in Italy and Austin was stuck in LA for that movie?"

You wordlessly nodded. You appreciated Callum's words of encouragement, but you knew that this time it was different. Something had changed, something you weren't even sure about. Something you wondered if it could be fixed at all.

"I just feel so... Blocked up.", you looked down, feeling your heart beat a little faster at your revelation. Callum sighed, thinking your words over.

"That man loves you, Y/N.", his hand inched forward, grasping yours in comfort. "It's all gonna be okay."

You wished you could believe in his words as much as he did.

A week passed, and as promised, Austin made it back home. New York was the place you both came back to. It held so many memories for the both of you as a couple and individually too.

You heard the keys jingle and the door open, your eyes immediately looking up as you watched Austin walk in. You stood up and approached him, falling into his open arms.

"Hey baby.", he murmured against your hair. Your hands desperately fisted his sweater, almost like you were afraid he was gonna disappear at any moment. But the truth was that you missed him. You missed his touch, his smell, his eyes, his voice.

You let out a shaky breath and slowly pulled away, so you were able to look him in the eyes. His hair was disheveled from his hoodie, his eyes were undeniably tired from the flight, but nonetheless, there was still a smile for you on his pretty face.

His hands found your cheeks as he looked at you deeply. It was like an inspection with him checking out every inch of your face, making sure nothing had changed and you were real, in front of him.

"I missed you.", the rawness in his whisper made you shudder as tears filled up in your eyes. You drew your eyes shut and placed your own hands on top of his. "Oh baby.", Austin pulled you in another hug, the fabric of his sweater absorbing your tears. "C'mon let's go lay down."

Austin sensed your emotions simply from your body's reactions. The way you held onto him, the way you started crying, swiftly clinging onto him like a lifeboat. Yet he felt the same way — like you'd been both drifting apart for too long and his presence was so sudden and so needed that it was overwhelming. He needed you as much as you needed him.

Moments later, you were lying on his chest in your bed in silence. It took Austin a little while to help you get your breathing back to normal and then your cries ceased. Your hand found the spot right above his heart and his was securely wrapped around your body.

"I'm finally done with my book.", you broke the silence, your voice a little raw from crying. He hummed, tightening his grip on you as he pressed his lips to your temple.

"'m proud of you.", he kissed your head again. "My little author.",

You smiled against his chest. "How was filming?"

Austin breathed out and started playing with your hair. "Eh, alright. Demanding, tiring and all that jazz.", you hummed. "You know the phone call we had...", you tensed up, knowing where the conversation was heading. "Hearing you like that and knowing I couldn't just drop everything and come to you..."

That crawling pit in your stomach came back and lying on Austin didn't seem like the best idea anymore. You moved a little and with a hand on his chest, you sat up. His eyes followed your every move as his hands remained on you, lingering.

"I, uh...", you started shakily, hesitantly looking his way. "I doubted us when you were gone.", Austin's hand froze on your body. "I talked to Cal a-and he made me remember that time when I was in Italy and you were in LA, but...", you shook your head. "That was different."

Austin's brows drew together, slowly sitting up as well. "Y/N..."

But you had to speak your thoughts out loud. "You wouldn't call, Austin for days and— and then when you did, everything was just so off. It didn't feel right."

His hand swiftly found your leg. "But I'm here now."

You nodded slowly. "Yes, now."

"Y/N, you get this, though. You know my schedule—"

"Yes, I know you're busy, but I also have got things to do and I don't just disappear in the unknown without telling anybody anything."

Austin was at loss for words. He breathed out, the silence almost overwhelming in your bedroom. Every little object good enough to distract him from thinking about the worst case scenario. But he knew what he had to say. "I'm gonna get better. For you... For us.", he promised.

You looked down, feeling the same sting in your eyes. "I just... I don't know if I can anymore."

His breath hitched in his throat, your words coming to him as a surprise. His hands immediately intertwined with yours as he moved closer to you, his forehead pressed to your temple. You forced your eyes shut as all the emotions you were feeling so suddenly were almost unbearable.

"It's a little hiccup, baby, that's all. We can do this together. I know we can.", Austin couldn't disguise the pain in his voice and your heart cracked just a little bit more. You squeezed his hands and sniffled. "We can do this. We're a team.", despite the obvious emotion, Austin's words made you want to believe.

"Y-You think?", he nodded, pulling away to place yet another kiss on your temple.

"I know.", he confirmed. "And I-I am so sorry for putting everything else first, baby.", his words were rushed, but you knew he meant every single one. "None of this is worth it without you by my side."

A frown appeared on your lips as you pulled away, your hands cradling his rosy cheeks. You kissed his lips, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. A man that was able to recognize his own mistake was hard to find, yet there he was sitting on the bed with you.

You pulled away, leaving Austin breathless. "Thank you for seeing that.", you murmured. "And I'm sorry for immediately blaming you for all of this—"

Austin shook his head, grasping your hands from his cheeks and kissing them repeatedly. "No, you had every right to. I needed a wake-up call. And I'm glad it's from you.", his blue eyes bored in yours, every shade of honesty glistening in them.

"I wanna do this with you.", you nodded, reassurance now flooding in your veins. A relieved smile broke on his face as his lips inched closer to yours until he finally sealed your words of promise.

"I love you. So goddamn much.", Austin muttered against your lips, a breathy laugh fell from your lips.

"I love you too.", there were the words he had wanted you to say for so long.

And you meant them with every fibre of your being.

A/N: took me three days to write this chapter but I absolutely loved it! let me know what you thought 💋🤍

MASTERLIST austin masterlist

next chapter... our pilot buck cleven 🩵

#fanfiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler #elvis 2022 #austin butler one shot #austin butler fic

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blueberryarchive · 1 year ago

Note

i want reader to call him again...please

𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙧!𝙟𝙠

previously on steph's house // later at the game...

tw: mentions of non-con

You've always heard men talk about having called at least once in their life to have sex on the phone. They usually called in groups, mutual support or stupidity, you didn't know which it was.

You knew you always wanted to know how those women could have such rich, soft and daring voices. Even when they laughed it seemed like a well-rehearsed choreography and at the end they said your name as if they knew you down to your bones. You wanted that gift, you would pay for that gift.

Now much more than ever. Or maybe you would like to know how to make another decision as daring as taking the phone from the living room again and hiding it in the bathroom at Steph's house. The girls sleeping upstairs. You should probably go back to bed.

How dare you? You have a boyfriend, for God's sake. And not only that, but with this idiot? You could feel Steph's gaze on the back of your neck, judging your finger to make the final turn.

555-5662

The buzzing is the same, the heavy lump in your throat is not. You knew what awaited you on the other side of the line, it was cruel and disgusting; but you were lying if you said you didn't need to listen a little more.

In the silent night, in the darkness of the chick-yellow bathroom, shame haunts you, warming your ears, your hands on the phone when the soft click was heard on the other side.

"Mm." Was his response, silence was yours. What the hell had you done, were you crazy?

"Fuck," he laughed lowly, "not you again."

"Do you really play?"

"I'm on the team, if that's what you want to know. But I don't think you're adding numbers to your phone bill to ask so much shit, am I wrong?"

You let your forehead cool on the tiles on the wall, is he wrong?

"God, if I had you in front of me…” Jungkook sighed and your heart skipped a beat.

"What?"

"I would force your mouth open to see if you learn to answer people when they talk to you."

"Do you always have music on when you sleep?"

"Are you always such an annoying cunt?"

Your chest burns, your eyes sting.

"You probably have a boyfriend, you all have a lapdog behind you so you don't get bored."

"Please. My boyfriend can kick your ass." You responded quickly, letting the burning spread like burning garbage.

"Are you, then?"

"What?"

"Are you so bored that you have to call the weirdo from college."

"I don't even know why they consider you weird."

This time the laughter was genuine, stupid popular girl, didn't know what she was getting into.

"You would have noticed a while ago if you were in front of me."

"Are you missing teeth or something?" You laughed, chewing on your nails.

"I'd have you bend over with your head on the ground while I split that pussy in two. You'll probably be crying and your little pussy bleeding from the dryness."

"What if I don't want to?" And you cursed yourself for having hesitated, your callgirl career looked even further away.

"Who said anything about wanting?"

And there it was, the heavy knot tied lower, down your stomach to your legs.

"That's illegal."

"Shut up and put your hand between your legs." He interrupted. The smell of detergent was so strong all of a sudden, you looked at your pathetic reflection in the sink mirror.

"You're sick."

"And you're an insignificant whore who calls me at 4 in the morning to listen to my voice and touch herself. Wanting me to tell her exactly what she wants." The stranger growled under his breath. "You're all so spoiled and pathetic, you disgust me."

"Fuck you." Your wet cheeks started to bother you.

Silence, his laughter was lethal, hoarse from hours of interrupted sleep.

"Don't let me find out who you are, callgirl. You gonna' regret it."

Your eyes opened, the darkness and silence were no longer your allies, they now seemed to engulf you. Click, the unbearable tone torturing your ear.

#❗slasher! jk thoughts #bts #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagine #bts jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader

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jxerv · 1 month ago

Text

sai x fem!reader, canon universe, fluff

masterlist

RAIN. LIGHT, constant, annoying. It certainly wasn't the best way to start a mission—especially not with a partner you didn't know at all. Or worse... one you already couldn't stand.

[Y/n] walked briskly down the hallway of Konoha's Headquarters building, boots splashing through puddles just inside the entrance. With her hood down and damp hair framing her face, she threw open the door to the briefing room.

Inside, Sai was already there. Composed, unmoving, arms behind his back and that blank stare fixed on her. The same stare [Y/n] had grown to loathe from afar: that fake half-smile and his eternally expressionless demeanor.

"Why him?" she burst out, pointing an accusatory finger at the boy. "Where are Sakura and Naruto?!"

Standing beside her, Sai remained impassive, hands clasped behind his back and eyes distant. He didn't seem the least bit affected by her emotional outburst.

"Naruto and Sakura are busy elsewhere. For today, he'll be your partner." Tsunade answered, not even looking up from the stack of documents in front of her. "Unless you'd rather take on the mission alone?"

"Partner?" she repeated, turning toward Sai with an exasperated expression. "But it's impossible to go on a mission with him! He has no emotions, he doesn't know how to hold a conversation, and—"

"Good morning, [Y/n]." Sai interrupted in his usual flat tone. "Your face looks more stressed than usual today. Did you sleep badly? Or is that just how you always look?"

"Ugh!"

The mission was simple: recover a stolen scroll from a group of mercenary ninja hiding out in the woods north of the Hidden Leaf Village. The kind of task that, with the right team, would be a walk in the park. But with Sai...?

The silence between the two during the journey was deafening.

"Sai, do you at least have a plan?"

The boy, floating midair atop one of his ink-drawn birds, turned slightly. "I was waiting for you to ask. You seemed too busy sighing."

[Y/n] bit the inside of her cheek, barely holding back a sharp retort. "Well?"

"We'll attack tonight. I'll scout ahead using my illustrations. You'll stay in position until I give the signal."

"Let me guess: your signal will be another one of those creepy smiles?"

Sai didn't reply. But that same irritating half-smile of his grew—by just a millimeter.

Night had fallen quickly, silent and thick like black velvet. The stars dotted the sky, cold and distant, while a thin layer of mist blurred the outlines of the forest below. On one of the highest branches of a tree, hidden among the dense foliage, [Y/n] and Sai watched the enemy camp in silence.

The tents were arranged in a circle, barely illuminated by the flickering light of the braziers. The sentries walked their rounds with steady steps, but didn't seem particularly alert. Still, [Y/n] knew appearances could be deceiving.

Beside her, Sai was as still as ever—just another shadow among shadows. With precise and silent movements, he unrolled his drawing scroll delicately across his knees. Without a word, he dipped his brush into the ink and began tracing swift, fluid lines—almost hypnotic.

[Y/n] watched him from the corner of her eye. Every stroke he made seemed to come alive, as though his hands knew exactly what to do without needing to think. In a matter of moments, a small black snake had taken shape on the paper. Then, with a sharp movement, Sai formed a seal with two fingers, and the creature came to life. It slithered off silently, disappearing into the night, headed toward the enemy camp.

[Y/n] had to bite her tongue to keep her admiration from showing.

"That was actually really realistic." she muttered at last, almost reluctantly.

Sai nodded, his gaze still fixed on the spot where the snake had vanished into the shadows. "Thank you. That's one of the few genuine compliments I've received from you."

He paused briefly.

"You usually compare me to a tree trunk."

[Y/n] snorted. And here I was, trying to be nice.

"Well, at least tree trunks are useful for substitution jutsu!" she said, turning her face away from her mission partner.

Silence. Then a dry sound, like a stifled cough.

"Were you laughing?" she asked, slowly turning toward him, suspicious.

"No." His response was immediate. Then he added, with that calm tone that always got on her nerves, "But I read that humor helps strengthen bonds between teammates. You just made a joke. It was... nice."

She stared at him for a long moment. "You're really weird, you know that?"

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

"Oh."

Another silence settled between them, but this time it wasn't tense. It was almost... light.

Then, the signal came from the snake: the camp was more vulnerable than expected. It was time.

In a flash, they moved. No words, only swift, purposeful gestures. [Y/n] dropped silently through the branches, her steps as light as a cat's. Sai followed closely behind, hands already forming new seals. His ink creatures took shape and struck with lethal precision, taking out the sentries without a sound.

[Y/n] moved like a blade through the shadows—precise, deadly, elegant. Her strikes were fierce, but never reckless. Pure efficiency. And Sai, almost instinctively, covered her back. The two moved as if they'd fought together a hundred times before, a perfect rhythm—like a dance.

At last, in the heart of the camp, [Y/n] grabbed the scroll and collapsed against a tree trunk, her chest rising and falling rapidly from the exertion. Her hair fell into her eyes, her skin smudged with dirt and smoke, scratched in multiple places—but her eyes shone.

Sai landed beside her, face unscathed, expression calm as always. But this time, there was something different in his eyes. Less distant. More... present.

"Not bad, tree trunk." she said with a half-smile, trying to steady her breathing.

He looked at her for a few seconds in silence, then leaned toward her slightly. "You too, [Y/n]. You fought with determination. Although..." he paused, and the shadow of a smile crossed his face. "you yell too much."

She snorted, rolling her eyes. "Only when I'm irritated."

"So... always?"

She lightly tapped his shoulder with the back of her hand, not with any real force. He looked at her, surprised, then relaxed.

"I don't mind." he said softly.

[Y/n] stared at him. "Don't mind what? Yelling?"

"No. You."

The quip died on her lips. She fell silent, her heart suddenly beating faster. For a moment, there was no enemy camp, no mission, no ink scrolls. Just the two of them, in the darkness, lit by the pale, silent moon.

She turned away to break eye contact. "Don't say things like that if you're not going to explain."

Sai tilted his head. "I'm not sure I can explain. But when I fight with you, or see you laugh, or even just sleep... I feel like drawing. Even if it doesn't serve the mission."

[Y/n] looked at him, caught off guard. "You... want to draw me?"

"I already did." he replied. "Once. In secret."

Silence suddenly grew thick between them.

Then [Y/n] laughed quietly—a softer laugh, less teasing. "You're a very weird tree trunk."

"Thank you."

They were both a complete mess.

Clothes torn, skin dirty with earth and sweat, scratches marking their arms, legs, and cheeks. The battle was over, yes, and they had won—but now, with the adrenaline fading, the pain and exhaustion began to settle in.

[Y/n] dropped to the ground with a soft groan, rubbing her left thigh. Every fiber of her body screamed for vengeance.

"Damn bastards..." she muttered, forcing herself to stretch out her leg. "One of them cut me with a kunai. It's not deep, but... damn, it burns."

Sai, sitting next to her under the protective shade of a large tree, turned toward her with his usual unbothered expression. He almost looked fresh, even though he was covered in scratches and bruises too. Somehow, he never seemed truly tired.

"Show me." he said calmly.

[Y/n] looked at him like he'd just asked her to strip in front of a crowd. "What?!"

"You said it hurts." Sai was already reaching for his bag. "Show me, so I can treat it. I have medicinal ointment."

"Wait!" she blurted, instinctively covering the injured area with her hands. The flush rising to her cheeks was sudden, unexpected. "It's not necessary— I mean... it's not that bad! Really!"

Sai stared at her for a moment, then sighed—one of those sighs that felt more like resigned acknowledgment than any emotional gesture. "Show me."

Without hesitation, he kneeled beside her, completely ignoring the tension rising off her like a second layer of skin. He gently took her leg in his hands, and she nearly jumped.

"W-Wait! At least... give a warning before you touch me or something!"

"But you said it hurts." he replied with his usual composure. His fingers moved with surgical calm, lifting the hem of her torn pants and revealing her knee. "I don't understand why you're so agitated. It's just a wound."

Just a wound, [Y/n] thought, but the truth was that the way Sai was touching her had nothing to do with combat. It wasn't rough or detached. It was careful. Thoughtful. And that gentleness—that soft contact—made her feel more exposed than the mission itself ever had.

She tried to mask her blush with a grimace. "It's nothing..." she mumbled, looking away.

But Sai stared at her for a moment in silence, then said, "It's not nothing to me."

[Y/n] froze.

Those words, spoken with startling ease, hit her like a punch to the gut. There was no flourish, no romantic intention. It was just the truth—bare and simple—spoken with the kind of disarming honesty Sai had somehow mastered without even realizing it.

He lowered his gaze back to the wound. He pulled a small damp cloth from his bag and began to gently clean the dried blood around the cut. The cold touch against her irritated skin made [Y/n] flinch, trying hard not to let a sound slip.

"You're trembling." he observed, glancing up briefly.

"That's because your hands are ice cold!" she snapped, seeking refuge in sarcasm.

Sai didn't respond right away. He kept cleaning with the same patience, as though working on a delicate canvas. Then he took a small jar, opened it, and began to apply a thin layer of ointment to the wound.

Every movement was methodical, but not mechanical. It was as if he was trying to learn—step by step—how to take care of someone.

[Y/n] watched him from the corner of her eye, heart beating wildly. No one had ever tended to her injuries with such care. Not even the hospital medics. It was like, for Sai, every small gesture meant something, like he wanted to imprint the moment into memory.

Then she spoke, almost without thinking.

"Sai..."

"Hm?"

"Why are you acting like this?"

He looked up at her. "Like what?"

"So... gently. So different from how you were at the beginning."

Sai paused. He seemed to consider his answer carefully, like he wanted to get it just right.

"Because I'm learning."

She raised an eyebrow. "Learning to treat wounds?"

He shook his head. "To understand people. To understand you."

The words hit her harder than she wanted to admit. Sai's eyes, for once, didn't look distant. They weren't cold or unreadable. They were sincere. Too sincere.

"Why me?" she asked, almost in a whisper.

He closed the jar slowly, as if sealing away the emotions that had just escaped. Then he answered, simply:

"Because even when you called me a 'tree trunk,' you still gave me a chance."

[Y/n] opened her mouth, but the words didn't come right away. Her heart pounded in her chest, and for a long moment, there was nothing between them but silence. A silence full—brimming with all the things they couldn't say.

Then Sai broke it. "Can I draw you?"

She looked at him, startled. "What?"

"Tonight. While you sleep."

[Y/n] burst out laughing, though it was a nervous, soft, almost tender sound. "You're really weird..."

Who even asks something like that?

He wasn't offended. He just looked at her, calm and patient. Waiting for a real answer.

She looked at him for another moment, then smiled—one of those small, honest smiles you don't show just anyone.

"Do what you want."

Sai nodded, as if he'd known she would say that.

And in that moment, as dirty, wounded, and wrecked by battle as they were, [Y/n] felt something shift. Not suddenly. Not like a lightning bolt. But like the slow stroke of a pencil on paper, tracing the first lines of something new.

Something still unnamed, but already beginning to take shape.

Sai sat beside her, making no sound. He wasn't tired. Or maybe, he simply didn't want to close his eyes. There was something in the way [Y/n] had curled up on that makeshift bed, her brow slightly furrowed even in sleep, her fingers clinging to her cloak like she was holding onto an anchor. There was something that kept him there. And that something, though new and unfamiliar, didn't scare him.

He slowly pulled out his sketchbook, opened it on his lap, and picked up his brush. No ink creatures this time. No drawing to fight or scout. What he wanted to do wasn't for the mission. It was for himself.

He drew the first line with a steady hand, and from there, it was as if his memory came alive. Drawing [Y/n] sleeping wasn't easy. Not because of the technical challenge, but because of the responsibility of portraying her exactly as he saw her in that moment: real, vulnerable, strong despite the wounds, and inexplicably radiant.

Every detail came naturally: the curve of her relaxed lips, the long lashes brushing lightly against her cheek, the stray lock of hair falling across her face—one he instinctively wanted to brush aside. But he didn't. He didn't want to wake her. Didn't want to break that moment.

He drew her hand too, the one clutching the cloak like it was the last fragment of safety in an unpredictable world. That small tension in her fingers seemed like the perfect symbol of who [Y/n] was: someone who didn't let go easily, but always fought—even in her sleep.

Time slipped away as Sai got lost in the details. He didn't even notice how long he had been sitting there. The sky, still dark, had started to fade into a pale blue. The night was giving way to dawn, and he was still there, eyes fixed on the drawing, heart stirred by emotions he had never read in any book.

He only stopped when he was certain no other line could make her more real.

Then he closed the sketchbook gently, held it to his chest for a moment, and let out a quiet sigh.

He wouldn't show it to her. Not yet. That was his secret. His silent truth.

Morning sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting patches of light across the beaten path that led to Konoha. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of damp forest and the first spring flowers. After days of missions, battles, and tense silences, the peace felt almost surreal.

[Y/n] and Sai walked side by side. Neither of them spoke, but the silence wasn't uncomfortable anymore. It was a silence full of things left unsaid, but understood. Every step in the same direction felt like a small, invisible, yet steady step closer.

The village appeared in the distance, hazy behind a light mist. And yet, neither of them seemed in a hurry to reach it.

[Y/n] glanced sideways at Sai's impassive profile. His face was relaxed, eyes fixed ahead, but there was something different. Something in the small things: the way he kept his hands loose at his sides, ready to react if needed, or how he would occasionally glance toward her—as if to make sure she was still there. That she wasn't just a dream.

She was the one who broke the silence.

"So..." she began, her voice softer than usual, "if they assign us another mission together..."

She didn't even finish the sentence before Sai answered, with disarming ease. "I'd accept right away."

[Y/n] turned to him, surprised by how quick and certain his reply was. She stared at him for a few seconds, trying to tell if he was joking or serious. But it was Sai. He didn't joke—not like others did.

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Oh? No sarcastic comment? No 'you're too emotional for team work' or something?"

"That wouldn't be true." he replied calmly.

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so now you recognize my talent?"

Sai nodded slowly. "You have good strategic skills. You're determined. And..." he paused for a second. "you're funny."

Her heart skipped a beat. But she didn't want to give in so easily.

"Well, maybe next time you don't have to wait until I'm half-dead to touch me." she said in a tone that was meant to be playful—but came out sounding a little too honest.

For a moment, she thought Sai hadn't understood. That he'd let the joke fall flat, like he often did.

Instead, he stopped.

He turned to her, tilting his head slightly. "You're alive now."

[Y/n] blinked. "...Yeah?"

"Then I can touch you now too." he added, serious—but with a spark of something in his eyes. Something new.

Her heart missed another beat.

Then, with almost theatrical slowness, Sai lowered his gaze and shook his head, a small, rare smile curling his lips. "Or I could just draw that too."

She let out a breathy laugh, turning away to hide the blush rising to her cheeks. "You're impossible, seriously."

"Thank you. I'll take that as a compliment."

They resumed walking, side by side. But this time, [Y/n]'s fingers brushed against his for a moment.

And for the first time, he didn't pull away.

wc: 3142

#sai yamanaka #sai x reader #naruto shippuden x reader #naruto masterlist #naruto x reader #naruto shippuden #x reader #underrated king #underrated

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