#i think the fact that there Was one already points to a slight sense of unawareness to what fine's writing is usually like

[yume-fanfare]

tho i do get why there were complaints because "i can't fix him" is a quite charged thing to say, and it feels like an oversight on the writer's part. but the main purpose of that was to point out that instead tori Can do it so i think it's an offense that can be overlooked

[incognit0slut]

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

[writersblockedx]

Something Inappropriate

Pairing - Professor! Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader Summary - When Spencer Reid bumps into one of his students while she's highly intoxicated, he takes it upon himself to get her home safely. Warnings - Student/teacher relationship, drinking, very slight implication of sexual assault Words - 1.9K

A/n - Thinking about making this into a little mini-series so let me know if you like this!

masterlist

It was Friday night and every student was somewhere in town. Groups of them crowding the bar, ordering shots or vodka sodas. Whatever was cheapest and whatever could get them drunk enough.

It just so happened that this certain Friday night, Y/n had gulped on too many drinks. It was barely 1am before she was stumbling to the dance floor, her friend's hand interlocked. Her intoxicated dance was enough to draw some attention. Some men eyeing her in the corner, some more girls wanting to join in and a man she knew at the bar: Professor Spencer Reid. One of her lecturers. Her favourite lecturer in fact.

Y/n didn't really register it in her drunken state until she wandered up to the bar and spotted him closer up. He was sipping on a something with coke, stood beside a man she didn't recognise: broad-shouldered and tough. "Professor?" She called with a sly smile rising to her lips.

Spencer turned: a pleasant surprise. "Y/n, hi, it's good to see you." He returned the smile, observing the girl's obvious drunken state.

"Well, I certainly didn't expect to see you here...no offence." She giggled drunkenly. Her professor was, obviously, much older. He seemed the type to enjoy a book on a Friday night - not a bar.

Spencer pointed to the man next to him, "It's erm- Morgan dragged me here." Said man turned to face Y/n, a cheeky glint already settled in his eye.

"Are you one of the doctor's students, hm?" He asked.

"I am," She answered, "Do you work at BAU too?"

Morgan shook his head, "Used to."

"Well, it was nice bumping into you both," She sent them a final smile, "See you Monday morning, sir." She directed such at Spencer before turning to face the bartender who was awaiting to take her order.

And once she grasped it, returning to her friends with a stumble in her steps, Morgan glanced back at Reid. The boy knew Morgan long enough to know what was coming: what that glint in his eyes meant. "She's interesting," He commented, observing Spencer. "Maybe I need to switch career paths."

Spencer swallowed hard on his drink, "She's my student, Morgan." The other man only shrugged at such response; nothing in the sensual sense ever seemed off-putting to Morgan. But Spencer, well he had many lines he had yet to cross. And Y/n was one of them.

His eyes gazed over to the girl who was giggling at something one of her friends had said. She was beautiful - she would give Morgan that. But, as much as that was the case, a relationship further than academic would be... inappropriate. No matter what Spencer might have thought about the girl. Even now, as he glanced at her from afar, she seemed nothing but carefree, captivating, alluring. And he couldn't let his mind go there.

An hour or so had passed when Spencer finally convinced Morgan that they should go home. He wandered outside, making sure Morgan got into his taxi all right before the front door to the bar swung open. Y/n stepped out, attempting to grasp a single cigarette from the packet. She had yet to notice her professor watching her. Once she had one between her fingertips, another challenge arrived: lightening it.

"Need some help there?" Spencer wandered up to her, shoving his hand into his trouser pockets.

If she were sober, she probably would have stopped what she was doing. Smoking in front of one of her preferred professors wasn't exactly the view she wanted to give. "Erm- I-" She sighed, giving in and handing the lighter over to Spencer, "Yes."

He took it, creating a block from the wind with one hand and letting the fire ignite before the girl was able to inhale the smoke into her lungs. "Thanks," She muttered before he took a step away.

"You shouldn't smoke you know," He could go on a ramble - but he wouldn't.

She shrugged, "I know, I just- I can't find my friends, I don't know where they've gone." She explained. "I thought they might be out here."

Spencer looked around the pavement they were standing on: deserted. "But?"

"But, they're not." She huffed as the smoke exhaled from her lips. She stumbled as she took a step, "I think- I think they went to some club." Her head banged - it was all beginning to become blurred.

And at her words, Spencer's concern intensified. "And they left you here?" He questioned.

Her eyes fell to the floor as she attempted to think, "I didn't want to go." She told him. "I shouldn't be- I can't-"

Before she could get out her drunken slurs, a hand came to her shoulder, "Do you have a way home?"

Y/n found herself effortlessly staring into the gaze of her behavioural analyst professor. "I erm- I walk." She answered him as if he had willed the very words from her lips.

Spencer decided then and there; he wasn't having this. If not for the very feeling inside him that compelled him to take care of her, it was the fact she was a young girl walking alone at night. Quite frankly, he taught some of the men at this college - he didn't trust them. "Come on," He spoke as he wandered over to his car.

Yet, Y/n stayed where she was, "What?" She couldn't even think this was a possibility.

"I'll drive you home," He said as he stopped, just by the driver's door. "Don't worry, I've only had two drinks. I just want to make sure you get home safe."

She shook her head. As tempting as a drive home with her attractive professor was, she couldn't possibly. "I'm fine, honestly-" She took a step, tripping on her own two feet.

Luckily, Spencer caught her before her face hit the stone concrete. Her fingers gripped his wrists as he took a hold of her. They didn't let go - not straight away. A moment passed as Y/n raised her head as to meet her professor's gaze. "What were you saying again?" He made the point of making.

She let go and straightened her back, "Are you sure don't mind?"

His smile became one of empathy, "I'd rather do this than wonder what could happen to you alone."

And so, without another thought, she slipped into the passenger seat of Spencer's car. A part of her wanted to be home, wanted to be in her bed. The other, however, liked the idea of being here...with him. "It's erm, Rose court, the student accom." She informed. "It's probably only a five-minute drive."

Spencer thought about making the point that even if it was an hour's drive, he would have made it at that very moment. He wanted her safe. Maybe because she was a brilliant student, maybe because he was concerned, or maybe because something else was urging his actions. Something of which the man had had a conscious decision to push to the side.

Though, even in a five-minute drive, Y/n had been lulled into sleep. The safety of someone she knew, the comfort of the leather car seat and the way the drinks had made her drowsy. Her eyelids had grown heavy and she didn't put up a fight against it. 

When the car engine stopped, Spencer looked over at her. For a few seconds, he thought about not waking her. She was so peaceful, tranquil, with no worries, nothing but her own dreams. "Y/n," He whispered. Nothing. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, "Y/n, hey, we're here."

Slowly, her eyelids started to flutter open and she found her view of her professor. It was all real. It wasn't just an intoxicated dream. "Sorry," She murmured in response.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," He spoke before exiting the car and going round as to open the passenger door for the girl. "Are you okay to walk?"

She slipped her legs out, "I'm fine yeah."

Famous last words.

The moment her heels hit the concrete pavement, she wobbled right into Spencer's hold. "Okay, I'll walk you up to your room." He decided then and there, without even consulting the girl on such.

"I can walk up to my room, professor." She argued.

But all she was met with was a raised brow of uncertainty, "You can't get out of the car without falling. How do you think stairs are going to go?" That was something she chose not to argue with.

She started wandering up to the first door, searching through her bag for the keys. She swayed until she felt an arm wrap around her waist. Her body steadied. Her eyes found Spencer again. The subtle touch was making even her drunken, confident self nervous. "Is this okay?" He checked when he observed her unsure body language.

The girl swallowed, "Hmh." And then she looked away, finally grasping her keys.

Spencer watched as she stumbled over to the door, not daring to let his touch leave the girl. She slipped the key into the door and they were over the first hurdle. And then, stairs. "Let's go slow, okay?" Spencer soothed her through.

She gave nothing but an incoherent nod as she followed Spencer's steps. "Which one is it?" He questioned.

Y/n was pointing to a door across from the stairs, "B..B35." She informed as Spencer guided her to the door and she started looking for the apartment door key. "I've got it...somewhere." In the midst of her search, a thought came to mind. Her movement stopped and she glanced up over at Spencer, "Can I ask you something actually? While I'm, you know, erm-"

"Drunk?" Spencer chuckled as he finished her sentence.

"I mean, yeah." She couldn't deny such a fact. "I mean, I always wondered why you left the BAU? You always talk about it in lectures and it just- you talked about it with a lot of love." Spencer's smile faltered at the thought of nostalgic memories. "Sorry, if that's intruding, I just, I-"

"No, no, it's fine," Spencer's words were quick to ease the girl's worrisome thoughts. "I suppose I needed a break, a lot of things happened, I needed time away from the field to process them I guess." He explained, wondering if the girl would even remember any of this by the morning. Would she even know who dropped her off home?

She hummed, "Makes sense I guess." And like that, with no judgement or opinion, she went back to find her apartment key. "Here,"

Y/n swung the door open to her dorm, "Are you sure you're going to be alright?" Spencer checked.

"I think I can just about make it to my bed," She joked as she leaned against the doorframe. "Thank you, by the way." He didn't have to do what he did. Most professors wouldn't have done. But he, he was different.

His hands found their way back into the deep depths of his pockets as he replied, "I don't just have a responsibility to teach, but also a duty of care, I'm always here to make sure you're okay."

And he would be. For her, definitely. There was something ever so alluring about the girl. Something he would force himself to ignore. Something he wouldn't act on. Something which was inappropriate. 

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 1: bondage/shibari with blade from hsr!

warnings: shibari/bondage obv, subspace, affirmation of consent, cockstepping, forced self praise, nipple stimulation, masochist blade, slight feminization, praise

notes: oh shit, here we go

being in a relationship with blade comes with many surprises and way too many heart attacks. no, really, the amount of times you almost had a heart attack because of this man is insane.

coming back home injured and on the brink of death. sudden reopening of his wounds and stitches because he was so used to pain. or the fact that he literally fell unconscious on your lap because he forgot to eat anything for the last who knows what long?

or even now, when he holds out a red rope, asking you to tie him up like a helpless prey.

it took a lot of tries and failures. wrapping the pretty red rope around the bare skin of your masochistic lover is quite hard when you have zero experience on full body bondage. if it were just hands and legs, you were a master at it. but not when it comes to shibari.

“color?” your voice comes out soft and gentle, tightening the last part of the red rope behind his back. all you got in response was a quiet shuddered breath.

“bladie, color?” fastening the end of the rope behind his back — not too tight, not too loose — your hand comes up to rest atop his head before slowly stroking his hair. that snapped him out of his current thoughts real fast as his hazy ruby eyes shift up to look at you.

“g-green… green” blade nods, gulping down what saliva was being collected in his mouth.

looking down at your handiwork, the stellaron hunter almost lets out a loud moan at the sight. red rope, one that is the same color of his eyes, fastened around his body so prettily. his chest, breasts you like to call whenever you squeeze them, looked bigger than usual. a part of the red rope going down and around his pecs, digging into his skin just enough to remind him of the current action you two were about to do. and his cock, standing angry red and proud.

he was hard. embarrassingly so.

you haven’t done anything but tie him up to his request and oh gods, he was already so embarrassingly hard.

if you were to see his arousal and the slight pre already on his tip, what would you do? would you scold him? call him mean and degrading names? would you leave him untouched and desperate for hours? would you slap his cock and make him cry and sob in a twisted sense of pleasure and pain?

a hand comes to rest on his chest, momentarily snapping him out of his thoughts. oh, what would you do? what would you do to him? your poor, pathetic, helpless lover.

“my sweet bladie. look at you, staying there all tied up like a little prey” he briefly hears your voice call out, hands starting to fondle and squeeze his pecks. unconsciously, he pushed his chest further into your hand, wanting more of your sweet touches. it felt like his entire body was on fire and only your hand could soothe him. or even make it worse.

“do you like it, dear? does my pretty boy like it when i fondle his tits like that?” he lets out an embarrassingly loud noise at your words. a pathetic sound that’s akin to a mewl that a cat in heat makes. without even noticing, his hips stutter in his position on the rug covered floor as well.

“such a cute and round breasts you have, my love. so full. they fit in my hand so prettily. do you think if i suck on your pretty nipples for long enough, you would start lactating?”

oh. oh no. just that mental image or the thought of having your mouth wrapped around his areola had him whining out loudly. rutting his hips on the material of the soft rug desperately as he tries to make your words a reality. oh, would you help him out if that actually does end up becoming real? would you suck and stimulate his nerves so often and too much to the point that he would actually start lactating just like a woman would? would you suck on his leaking milk?

such vile thoughts that made him squirm on his place on the floor with a long, drawn-out whine. who would have ever thought your stoic looking lover would be such a weak little thing.

not that you minded it. you loved it actually. all the more reasons to circle a thumb around his hardened bud, making him twitch and buck his hips, searching for the tiniest bits of friction to his poor leaking cock.

"ah right. how mean of me. i forgot about your little problem" you let out a soft coo, deciding to try out a new thing as well. no point in backing out now. your sweet boy was already a mess on the floor with just a few touches and caresses. might as well help him out and fulfill his fantasies.

"color?" you ask again, one of your feet lightly resting on his stomach, pressing lightly, just enough pressure to cause blade to gain his words again from wherever his pretty mushy brain is swimming in once he gets to this state.

understanding the implications of your words and what you were asking affirmation for, blade couldn't help but nod his head a little too eagerly. the dirty and vile side of him wanting what exactly it was you were offering. the dark and more twisted part of him just wanted you to do that already. to take what you wanted without asking, make him scream, jolt, sob from the suddenness of it all.

but of course, you would never do that. you were so caring of him. makes him wonder how he even was lucky enough to have you as his own lover.

"my love, i need to hear you use your words" your voice sounded a bit harsher than he remembered. did he made you mad? disappointed? sad? he didn't meant to! poor little blade was just too damn lost in his own little space. all thanks to the rope and the suffocating amount of trust he blindly puts in you.

"green... please? aeons, please just touch me" his response was sluggish. slow. slurred. drunken and lost in the hazy grips of pleasure and anticipation. that was all you needed.

with a comforting headpat, the feet that you had placed on his stomach slowly trailing down before coming to rest over his hard on. just a simple buck of his hips and he can get to feel you step down on his cock. the thought had blade already panting and drooling. but you haven’t even touched him yet. what a perverted boy, he was.

slowly but gently, you pressed down on his arousal before putting just enough pressure to cause him to let out gasps and loud whines. it felt good. you felt good. you were making him feel so good and blade? oh, he could never be happier nor could he ever thank you enough for it.

“t-thank you…! gunhhg thankyou thankyo—oounpp!!! gccck♡︎!” the man blabbers on drunkenly, his hips twitching as he tries to rut up into your feet further to make you just stomp on his pathetic cock. he would love that so much. the disgusting, masochist part of him would love that so fucking much.

“you’re my pretty boy, right? my sweet toy. my cute prey. my darling blade, right? you’re still my good bladie, right?” he could briefly hear you hum so sweetly. voice like a honey on his fried brain. in response, all blade could do was nod and nod eagerly like a pup. hands straining against the pretty red ropes that you tied around him.

“words, blade” the hand that was still playing and squeezing at him breast — god he completely forgot about your hand there — squeezes at his hardened nipple before pulling on it slightly. that was a warning for him to use his words. to repeat back what you said to him like a broken record. or else, you would probably deny touching him all-together and your sweet boy would hate that.

“guuh— i am! i am i am! ‘m your good boy. y-your sweet boy! ‘m still your cute bladie nyaah♥︎!” that last part slipped out unconsciously. he could barely even form any words now. just pathetically humping the rug and your feet that’s pressed down on his leaking cock, face pressed against the side of your thigh as his noises become more loud and debouched.

all he knew was to keep repeating the words you said. there was no need for him to think. why would he have the need to think when you were right there in front of him, helping him and being so cruel yet so sweet to him? blade didn’t needed to use his head when with you.

so, he just simply kept parroting your words through jumbled heap of mess. how he was your toy. your cute prey. your good boy. your love, blade. yours, yours, yours, yours—!

“uuunghh! mmpf-fuck! fuckfuckfuck! n-nnyaaghh♡︎♡︎!” twitching violently on his place on the floor, the immortal tries to break free from the ropes keeping his hands tied tightly to his sides. blade had always been a touchy guy, wanting to scratch your back, sides, hips, wherever his hands could reach. and yet he couldn’t. not this time and it’s all because of what he said and his own wishes.

so, he simply settles on mewling embarrassingly loud as his hips stutter in place, cock cumming untouched as he tries to hide his drooling face into the soft flesh of your thighs, soiling your feet with his own cum.

“g-gcckk.. m-more… unngh need you t-to fill me up” blade mumbles, voice muffled as he rubs his cock against your feet. he was already hard again and the skin on skin contact stung whenever he slowly humped your leg. oh but he loved it.

the red ropes matched his flushed cheeks and bleary eyes perfectly. so, who are you to stop now and deny your sweet boy?

[fallow-hollow]

loved your kabru fic!! would you be willing to write a 5+1 chilchuck/reader fic? along the lines of “5 times they nearly kissed, and 1 time post-canon where they actually did”?

count to six

…ft! chilchuck x gn! reader

…tags! pining, almost kisses, arguments but they make up, extremely minor manga spoilers, chilchuck being bad with feelings, pre-relationship and post-relationship, most of these take place pre-canon

…word count! 3697

…notes! i think receiving a chilchuck request is just a rite of passage for a dunmeshi blog at this point. i hope the old man likers are pleased by this one!

one

You’d always admired Chilchuck, really. And not just in a professional sense, mind you.

Of course you respected his skills and his professionalism, but after working with him for some time, you could clearly see that there was so much more about him that continued to catch your eye. Those little slips in his usual attitude were what fascinated you, keeping you waiting for the next snippet of his personality you could get a glimpse of.

As a man of great pride in his profession, accepting help or being “coddled” weren’t exactly on Chilchuck’s to-do list. If he was interrupted or goodness forbid challenged while he was trying to do his job, he’d become even crabbier than those literal treasure crabs monsters he hated so much. Nonetheless, you cared for him and your party, so you offered to lend a hand where you felt it was appropriate.

Maybe it was just you, but the half-foot almost seemed more receptive of your intervention than he usually was with others. Perhaps it was because you did your best to be unobtrusive but firm in your offers, cementing yourself not as someone looking down on him, but a teammate who understood the importance of cooperation.

While your professional relationship was an enjoyable one, it was nice to see the man let loose every now and again. Around and after mealtimes he’d become more talkative, especially if he’d had some booze to wash down his helping of whatever was available that night. This particular evening, you’d had a particularly nice stir fry with the grains you’d bought and even a bit of salt-cured meat and some dried legumes that kept extremely well. Even if your meals were sometimes a hodgepodge of whatever would be cheap or long-lasting, it filled you up, and you were grateful for that.

The rest of the party members had just stood up to go and wash their dishes and utensils, and you were about to rise as well before stealing a quick glance at the half-foot next to you and immediately blurting out,

“Oh, you’ve got something.”

Chilchuck could only raise one of his eyebrows, not quite understanding what you meant from your wording. “Something?” he parroted.

“On your face,” you would quickly clarify, leading to spending several seconds watching him try to get it, making both amusement and slight frustration bubble up within you.

In fact, you were so concentrated on wiping off the smeared food with your sleeve that you didn’t even notice the sound of his squeak — yes, his squeak — when you leaned forward to get a closer look. In hindsight, perhaps you’d miscalculated the amount of space between you, because your faces were practically touching, despite you not realizing it at the time. In your concentration, your companion even noticed the tip of your tongue sticking out of your mouth in concentration. It wasn’t something he’d intended to fixate on, but in the moment it seemed like it was all he could do while he waited for you to be done. After all, it moved suddenly, you two might accidentally…..

“Alright, got it.” You pulled away so quickly that he hardly had time to comprehend the motion before your grinning face was already visible, albeit more distant now. Only after the fact would you realize that you had most certainly invaded his personal space without asking, though it felt too late to really apologize for it properly without making things awkward.

What both you and him didn’t notice, however, was the way his ears tinged pink at the proximity between the two of you.

two

With the embarrassment of the previous incident still fresh in your mind, the second offense certainly didn’t fly over your head this time.

Though, with all fairness, it wasn’t like it was something that could be helped. Rather than simple ignorance of personal space, this was a total accident.

In order to progress into the deeper floors of the dungeon, it was only natural that any party would eventually have to deal with some traps getting in their way. Your party in particular was currently being led by your expert, that being Chilchuck, through a plain, narrow hallway that was purportedly rigged with various traps and projectiles.

Both the walls and floor were made of what appeared to be a completely uniform stone construction, but with his keen senses and knowledge of dungeons, Chilchuck was able to deduce a pattern of which stones were safe to step on, the rest being triggers for various dangerous mechanisms.

Everyone was following behind Chilchuck in pretty much single file. He would traverse the safe path, then you would copy his steps, so on and so forth down the line. Usually, this method worked perfectly for these sorts of puzzles, as long as nobody moved too early or had a misstep. Unfortunately for you in particular, a misstep is exactly what you made.

When trying to land gracefully on the ball of your foot, the weight shifted, forcing you to roll onto your ankle with a pained sound. Instinctually, you tried to put your weight back into your other foot and staggered, hardly even comprehending the way you felt the ground beneath you sink ever so slightly.

All you really registered at first was the sound of somebody shouting, not to mention the feeling of your body being tugged forward with a roughness that stemmed not from malice, but from desperation. Someone was tugging on your shirt, so much so that you immediately fell onto your knees and proceeded to slide across the floor for a short distance as well. If you didn’t have something covering your knees, you’re sure that would have hurt like hell.

The pain was just on the cusp of excruciating, making you want to reach down and hold your injured foot, but not before you noticed the warmth of a body directly in front of you, close enough to wrap both arms around.

Chilchuck still had a grasp on your shirt, breathing heavily after what was most certainly a terrifying moment for him. It’s strange, really — he always insisted that he was only here to guide you, not bail you out, but in moments like these, the sight of a party member in harm’s way always seemed to seep through his stoic exterior and inflict him with sheer panic.

You almost wanted to smile at the thought, finding it almost soothing, but you figured it would seem pretty odd considering you’d freshly injured yourself and you were also far too close to your coworker for comfort.

A free hand laid itself on top of Chilchuck’s, still shaky. The man subsequently withdrew his hand, shocked at the unprompted touch despite literally having grabbed you moments before. That was…. different, he attempted to reason to himself.

Some voices sounded from behind the both of you after you withdrew from one another to catch your breath.

“Are you alright?” came a soft voice that you instantly recognized as Falin. “If I could, I’d heal you right now, but I really can’t reach you with these trapped tiles all around. I hope it’s okay that we have to wait until we clear the traps.”

“Not like we have much of a choice, so I’m fine.” You listened to your own voice bounce off the walls, noting how wary you sounded. Outside of your field of vision, the half-foot also winced. You weren’t in great shape, sure, but it really could have been worse…. he thought that maybe telling himself that would make him feel less guilty about the state you were in, but for some strange reason, the feeling just wouldn’t go down. Almost like an especially bitter tasting liquor.

Toshiro — or Shuro, as most of the party tended to call him — was the next in line behind you, and luckily well equipped to carry you the rest of the way. It was a good thing, some might even say a stroke of luck that you’d been positioned in front of him instead of, say, Marcille, but Chilchuck couldn’t help but follow you with his eyes. Seeing you be carried by the man somehow only made him feel more on edge, instead of at ease like he naturally should have. That bitter taste again…

Despite your injury, you felt surprisingly alert, and your eyes continued to dart around, assessing your surroundings now that you didn’t have to focus so intensely on the floor. You saw an arrow lodged into a gap between two of the stones in the wall, probably freshly fired when you triggered that trap. If you hadn’t been pulled away in time, you might have gotten seriously injured or even died.

By the time your gaze landed back on Chilchuck, he was already turning around, but you could’ve sworn that he was looking at you in the split second before he turned his back on you.

The thought that maybe you captivate him even half as much as he captivates you lets you close your eyes with a smile on your face.

three

Ever since that incident in the hallway, you’d started to suspect that Chilchuck was avoiding you.

It wasn’t anything offensive or egregious, but you could sense him becoming even more withdrawn than usual. You two weren’t exactly the chummiest of people with one another in the first place, but lately he’d been acknowledging you less and less, not responding to smart remarks or offers to help him like he usually did.

You knew that he was still noticing you, judging by the slight turn of his head towards the sound of your voice and the occasional clenching of his jaw. Clearly, something was on his mind that he didn’t feel like sharing. Fairly typical, though you couldn’t help but miss that thin sliver of himself he let others see. With you, he was open just enough to at least let you get your foot in the door, and you didn’t want to lose that.

So, determined to get to the bottom of your companion’s heightened defensiveness, you were able to catch him alone when he’d volunteered to be on night watch. With everyone else asleep, you’d finally be able to talk to him without the concern of being overheard.

The half-foot immediately noticed your presence, you’re sure of that. Of course, you were still quiet as to not wake anyone up, it was more so that no matter how quiet you could be, absolutely nothing would slip past his keen senses. Detecting threats and things of note in the dungeon was his job, after all.

No time was wasted in cutting to the chase, certainly.

“Are you avoiding me?”

You couldn’t catch a glimpse of Chilchuck’s face from where you stood, but the way he slowly shifted from one foot to another suggested he was deliberating his response. There was also also a light tapping sound that rang through the space between you, and after a minute of darting your eyes around you realized that he had his arms crossed and was tapping his index finger against his forearm.

The thing you couldn’t notice, of course, was the way his eyes were blown wide with the fear of a man who had absolutely no idea what to say. It’s not like he was ever any good at talking about these things. That’s why he thought it better to just avoid the issue altogether!

Clearly, he should’ve known better. You had other plans for him, just like you always do. Most of those plans usually ended up making him somehow feel like a total fool, even if he was just trying to keep it professional. So why? Why did he respond in earnest instead of shooing you away?

“It’s just sort of a habit, I guess. I try to avoid forming personal biases, especially ones based around personal relationships.” Once those words were finally pushed up and out of his throat, the man at least felt brave enough go turn around and face you, scratching the back of his neck now. “It’s pretty much the most common cause of issues within and between parties, so it’s something I’ve come to be wary of over the years.”

His words caused something to click in your head, and you couldn’t help but grin at him despite the circumstances.

“Are you essentially saying I’m your favorite?”

Perhaps that wasn’t the best thing to say in response, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it, what with how the man’s face scrunched up in both embarrassment and frustration. Maybe it was just an effect of the dim lighting, but he seemed a bit red as well.

“Now’s not the time to act smug, you know that’s not my point.” The hand that was previously behind his neck shifted to point at you accusingly, but it didn’t quite feel sincere. There was something about the way it wavered in midair that made you feel certain that he wasn’t truly angry. “I’m just saying that I prefer to regulate the group environment than just go around making merry without a second thought!”

Dark pupils followed your form, moving up to stand next to him now. “I understand what you mean, but there is a lot of value in making merry, you know? Or even moments like this, for example.”

Chilchuck felt so confused at those words that he dropped his irritated expression entirely. What could possibly be valuable about something so frustrating as his own biases? It’s not like his feelings had any tangible value like a gold coin or a precious jewel. Love was nice, sure, but that alone couldn’t put food on the table.

Sensing his confusion, you could only continue. “Maybe you only view it from a professional lens, but that doesn’t mean it can’t make sense from that standpoint, you know? Your coworkers like to know you. Playing favorites really isn’t an issue when you’re not out boss or anything, I’d think. You’re our equal. And I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but it’s hard to confidently stand on equal ground with somebody who’s so closed off. Makes it hard to trust.”

Trust?

Wasn’t trust in his skills enough? He was already an extremely skilled individual, what reason would most people have…. not to trust him….

Ah.

It felt so shameful to just look at the ground as if he was being scolded. What else could he do, though? It felt like the mechanism of a trap with a tentacle wedged in the crevices, keeping it from moving altogether. Your words were that obstruction, stopping the inner workings of his mind in its tracks.

“Could you look at me, Chilchuck?”

Total bewilderment did nothing to prevent the half-food from turning to meet your face, level with his own. One of your hands hovered over his cheek, never quite touching. In a similar fashion, his fingers ghosted over your wrist.

“Even just taking a moment to look at someone, take in each other’s presence…. it’s a start. Not open, but not closed, either. You can just leave that door open a crack. It shows people that you trust them with not only your time, but yourself.”

His eyes were utterly transfixed on the movements of your lips.

You were right there, you were so close. A perfect chance served on a silver platter. Even so…

“…Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” The moment Chilchuck’s hand departed from your wrist, you withdrew your own hand, backing off into the distance the two of you previously had. He turned to stand shoulder to shoulder with you now, not quite facing you, but not quite facing away, either. By no means did the man want to shut you out, but he couldn’t bring himself to open up just yet.

The brief silence was interrupted by a quick remark. “You better mean that, because I’m not opposed to cornering you like this again.”

Chilchuck snorted at your words. “Fine, fine, I heard you. Never let me catch a break, do you?”

No, not just yet.

four

It had hardly been two days since your talk, and the man was already admiring you while you slept like some kind of freak.

Lord, what were you doing to him?

He just couldn’t sleep, that’s what he said to himself as his eyes remained fixed on your face. In hindsight, he almost regrets letting you put your sleeping bag next to his. If you hadn’t, he wouldn’t have such an easy way to stare at you instead of sleeping like he was supposed to.

In the end, though, he supposed it was his fault. He had a harder time saying no to you, and he hated it.

More than that, he hated how vulnerable you were in this moment. So close to him, yet so at ease. Did you really trust him like you talked about? In truth, Chilchuck himself wasn’t sure if you should. Did you really know just how depraved and selfish he actually was?

I mean, if he really wanted to, he could do something horrible and you wouldn’t even know. Take advantage of this state, and do whatever he wanted.

He bet he could even get close enough to…

The half-foot turned over.

Not tonight.

five

Just after the party lost Falin, as well as Toshiro and Namari leaving as a result, Chilchuck asked to talk with you.

“You shouldn’t go looking for her. Especially not with us.”

You weren’t sure whether you were angry or just disappointed. Did he really not understand?

“I’ve already made up my mind, Chilchuck. You already know how I feel.” This response only seemed to further provoke your companion. With nobody else around to hear, he had no problem raising his voice at you.

“Oh, I know perfectly well!” When he pointed at you, his hand didn’t waver, trained perfectly on your form. “I know that you’re absolutely insane if you think this is in any way a good idea.”

Frustration started to overtake your face, and in turn you shouted back, “I don’t know why you always feel like caring about others and being insane is the same thing! It isn’t!”

“Don’t assume how I feel!” As you both shouted back and forth, you both slowly inched closer to one another, until eventually you were standing toe to toe. The pressure eventually got so intense that you could only collapse to your knees and plead,

“Then just tell me. Tell me, please. All I want is to know.”

Well, that was a quick way to make him feel like the biggest asshole on earth. You on your knees, asking him so simply for something that couldn’t be bought or sold. Asking for him.

“I…”

I can’t, he wanted to say. He tried to force out the words, but he nearly choked, as if he was about to cry. Holding back that reaction, he tried his best to do what he knew you needed.

…He leveled with you and put a hand on your shoulder. It really was so hard to say no to you.

“Not yet, okay? I promise I will once this is all over, just… not yet. Wait for me, will you at least do that much?”

After a few moments of catching your own breath, you were able to look at his face again, your own now being blank and receptive. “Outside of the dungeon, you mean?”

He nodded. Your expression shifted to become more unsure, but only slightly.

“And how do I know you’ll come back?”

Perhaps just to give you a taste of your own medicine, Chilchuck grinned softly, deciding to throw your own words back in your face like you’d done to him.

“I thought you knew that you were always my favorite.”

All that and more, really. One day, he’d be able to tell you all about it.

six - after the dungeon

You’d often catch your lover slumped over at the counter of the shop after it closed. One of your favorite things to do was come up behind him and put your hands on his shoulders. Sometimes he’d be too lost in his thoughts to notice you and be startled by your sudden appearance. Tonight, however, he merely sighed and relaxed into your touch.

“Hard day today?” When he groaned in response, you had to suppress a giggle. That man really could be such a drama queen sometimes.

“How could you tell?” His question, unlike yours, was laced with sarcasm. Eventually, he lifted up his head and twisted his torso to look at you. “Had a fair amount of house calls today. Kahka Brud is a nice place to live and all, but I’d rather not be running around it at my age.”

“Yes, yes, you poor thing.”

“Hey!” His exclamation in conjunction with his pout sent you into a fit of hushed laughter.

Wiping a tear from your eye, you continued, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just teasing. One of these days you really ought to hire someone else to split the workload. When Mei’s in the area, we can certainly ask you about it.”

Chilchuck acknowledged your advice with a hum, but didn’t respond, instead choosing to fully turn around and put his hands on your sides.

“Mhm, I’ll get to that later.” His voice slurred from tiredness. “Right now, I just missed you.”

Your lover’s blunt declarations of missing you never failed to make you feel warm and fuzzy inside. In fact, you were about to return the sentiment in kind, but didn’t get the chance before the half-foot lurched his body forward to close the space between you.

His mouth was lax against yours, and his tongue lazily poked through the gap, not stretching the inside of your mouth, but merely resting as if it belonged there. It was a lazy kiss, but one full of warmth and a true sense of… home, really.

No mind was paid to the string of saliva left by him as you withdrew, all you could say being a quiet “I missed you too.”

After all, your faces didn’t stay apart for too long after that.

[merakiui]

maybe, i'm afraid.

azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: slight angst, nsfw, azul bottles his feelings and is insecure note - happy birthday to my favorite tako in the whole world. <3 may you have wonderful days forever!! // loosely inspired by lovelytheband's "maybe, i'm afraid."

i. spring - dancing in your party dress, you were singing me some frank sinatra as you wept. pull me close enough. it seems like we lost touch, so hold me as the record skips.

“Can you believe we’re gonna be fourth years?!” Kalim exclaims with wide, sparkling eyes. They look like twin garnets set into his face—polished jewels having caught the aquatic illumination from Mostro Lounge’s aquarium. “Time really does fly, huh!”

“Feels like yesterday,” Ruggie agrees around a mouthful of food. His plate is stacked as high as it can possibly get, piled with contrasting flavors. “Pretty crazy to think we’re all gonna be heading off in different directions soon.”

Jade nods. “Our school lives are as fun as they are fleeting.”

An odd quiet falls over the three of them, which is soon broken when Floyd drapes himself over the booth. He leans down to swipe a sliver from Jade’s plate. “Whatcha talkin’ about?”

“Just reminiscing.”

“Ah. S’bout that time, ain’t it? Gettin’ sentimental in the spring.”

“Makes sense. The semester’s ending and people are starting up their internships or going home. Really makes you think…”

Ruggie gazes at the group huddled near the bar. Riddle, Jamil, and a half-awake Silver chat alongside you and Azul. You seem to be in the middle of a riveting story, for your arms gesticulate wildly. Azul looks on with what Ruggie thinks is the most mushy-gushy, ooey-gooey smile he’s ever seen.

“We’re gonna come back in the winter, aren’t we?” Kalim asks, tilting his head.

“Indeed. For the cultural festival.”

“Yeah, that’s right! It’ll be fun to see you guys after so much time apart. Oh, we should all keep in touch! That way it’ll feel like no time has passed at all.”

“Perhaps not for us.” Jade follows Ruggie’s line of sight, landing on one person in particular. “For others, the gap is cavernous.”

“What do you mean, Jade?”

Floyd catches on then. “S’not our fault he’s not sayin’ anything.”

Ruggie shrugs. “It doesn’t concern me.” He pops up from his spot in the booth, grinning. “It’s been great and all, but I’ve gotta get my fill. Wouldn’t be right for a guy to skimp out when it’s Azul hosting.”

Giggling, Floyd waves him off. “You do that, Sharksucker.”

Kalim turns to the twins, brows raised. “You’re talking about Azul?”

“He’s been swept up in Shrimpy ever since. It’s been—how long now?—about two years or something.”

“Oh.” Kalim blinks back at him, slow on the uptake. And then, seconds later, it hits him. “Ohhh! He likes (Name)!”

“There ya go.”

“I’m afraid he’s yet to confess,” Jade adds around a bite of cake. “You should see the plans he’s drafted. Dozens of them, in fact. Each one is… Oh, perhaps I’ve said too much already.”

“I don’t get it. If he likes (Name) so much, why wouldn’t he just confess? Why make plans?”

“Wow, Sea Otter, you don’t play when it comes to feelings, do ya?”

“If it was me, I’d want everyone to know how much I care about someone.” To demonstrate this point, he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “You’re the best, (Name)!”

You glance past a now wide-awake Silver at the twins and Kalim. Mirroring his actions, you reply in a giggly voice, “Thanks! You’re great, too, Kalim!”

Beaming, he says, “See? It’s not so difficult. If Azul needs any help, I’d be happy to—”

Floyd throws his head back and cackles like a madman. “Not so difficult for you!”

Jade masks his amusement behind a gloved fist. “My, my. I think I’ve just witnessed the very soul drain from Azul’s eyes. You have quite the talent, Kalim.”

Kalim doesn’t hear the underlying meaning or the backhanded barb in his statement. “He’s got time, doesn’t he?”

“That’s what he keeps saying. But deep down he knows.” Floyd watches Azul hurry to recover his composure before anyone can notice. “He’s leaving for his internship after school’s over and then graduation’s next spring. He’s running out of time.”

“Does (Name) like him? Maybe she’ll confess before he does!”

“That’s just it. He doesn’t know what Shrimpy feels for him. Been driving himself crazy all school year tryin’ to figure that one out.”

“I suspect he’s grown excessively cautious as a result of his fear of rejection,” Jade explains, dragging his fork through the buttercream smeared on his plate.

“But if he confesses now and she doesn’t feel the same, he’ll have all summer to recover.” Kalim turns his stare on you next. “(Name)’s always been nice. I’m sure she wouldn’t shatter his heart.”

“When you’re Azul, even the tiniest push is enough.” 

“Really? But he’s always so strong!”

Jade hums. “Three hearts are quite the boon-burden.”

“Only makes lovin’ someone that much worse. Cuz then you’re lovin’ ’em three times as much.”

“Isn’t that good? I think it’s sweet Azul cares about (Name) so much.”

“Sweet…” Jade shares a look with Floyd. Something unspoken passes between them. “Yes, I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“Azul thinks it’s a pain in the ass. Throws him off his course and he loooves bein’ on his course.” 

Kalim stares a moment longer. “Maybe he needs a push in the right direction.”

“Liquid courage works wonders—”

“—or gives way to woe.”

“Nothing like that.” He doesn’t elaborate further, instead getting up and padding over to the bar with a cheerful bounce in his steps. “Hey, everyone, let’s take a picture!”

Riddle welcomes him with a warm smile. “Ah, hello there, Kalim.”

“You seem to be enjoying yourself,” Jamil comments, arms folding across his chest. Which, arguably, is worse because it can only spell trouble should Kalim find himself inspired.

“Way ahead of you!” You hold your Ghost Camera up, turning the lens on Kalim. Lighting up like the very sun in the sky, he poses just as you snap a photo. It takes a few moments for it to develop, but once it does you hand it over to him for his perusal. “Looking good as always.”

“Aww, thanks! Okay, your turn next! Let’s get a big group photo and then individual photos.” With the camera now in his possession, Kalim’s free to fidget with it as he pleases. “Ooh, this is neat!”

“Careful with that!” Jamil bounds forward just in case. “The Headmage gave that to (Name). Don’t break it.”

“I won’t,” Kalim promises, holding it up to capture you and Jamil in its sight. “I think I’ve got it! Everyone, group up! Picture time!”

There’s lots of fumbling. An argument about height breaks out. Floyd pokes fun at Riddle for having to stand in front to account for his height. Riddle fumes, red with anger, and stomps his foot indignantly—all while insisting he’s still growing. You offer to stand beside him, but he hisses at you like a cat: “Don’t patronize me! I’m of perfect, healthy stature for someone my age!”

Kalim looks on from behind the camera. “Actually, can we get (Name) and Azul together first?”

Azul, who had been in the process of adding to the joke with a comment of his own, hesitates. He peers at Kalim, his walls rising. “Me?”

“Yeah! Only fair to put you front and center. You’re the host, after all!”

“Ah, right. Of course. But then—”

“Why me?” you ask, confused. “If anything, I should stay out of the picture. I’m not a third year like the rest of you.”

Kalim gasps, scandalized. “We can’t do that! It doesn’t matter what year you are. You’re still our friend, and parties are for everyone to enjoy.”

“Doesn’t that throw off the original plan?” Ruggie wonders, munching on a frosted donut.

“Kalim, we need to account for height. Riddle can’t stand in the back.” Jamil glances apologetically at Riddle. “That’s just the reality of it.”

Riddle huffs, refusing to dignify that with a response.

“I’ll stand in the front,” Silver offers.

“What? No, that’s not the issue here, Silver.”

“It’s not? I thought we were picking who stands beside (Name).”

“Ooh, I wanna stand with Shrimpy!” Floyd wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your head. “C’mon, Sea Otter, take our pic!”

Jamil sighs. “All of you…”

“Shall we take individual photos with (Name) first?” Jade suggests, smiling placidly at Kalim.

This time the message is received loud and clear. “Oh, great idea, Jade! Azul and (Name), could you stand next to each other?”

The group disperses to allow you and Azul to do just that. Rigidly, Azul steps closer. He keeps a healthy distance between your bodies, one Jade picks up on right away.

“Please smile and pretend like you love each other,” he instructs, to which Azul flusters.

“W-What? Jade, that’s—”

“C’mere, Ashengrotto! I don’t bite!”

With a joyous laugh, you wrap your arm around Azul’s waist and drag him in close. He stumbles, flushed in the face, just as the camera flashes. The corresponding photo slides out next, blank for a while. Eventually, the image begins to show up with striking clarity.

“How’s it look? Great, right?” As soon as it happened, it’s gone—your warmth. The comfort of being held. Azul almost pursues you when you release him from your grasp and move towards Kalim to inspect the photo. Thankfully, he catches himself. “Hey, this is nice! Good job.”

You and Kalim share a high-five.

“Me next, Sea Otter!” Floyd crowds in, baring his pointed teeth in an unruly grin.

With everyone’s attention on you, Kalim, and the camera, Azul’s left to stand behind in silence. Anticipating the rainless deluge, Jade lingers within earshot.

“I know,” he mutters in a brittle tone. “Don’t say a word.”

“Not a peep. Although if I may share just a tiny tidbit… Kalim offered some very helpful advice. You may want to hear it.”

Azul stares at him, stunned. “You told Kalim?”

“Not directly, no. It was implied.” Jade averts his mismatched eyes on purpose. “More or less.”

“I should’ve made you and Floyd sign NDAs…”

“Is it really so sensitive?”

“Yes! Yes, of course it is!” Azul deflates with a sigh, looking on mournfully. You’re trying to snatch the camera from Floyd’s hands. He holds it up and out of reach, laughing raucously. “What did he say?”

“If you confess now, you’ll have the entire summer to mend your tattered heart.”

Azul barks out a short, hollow laugh. “In an ideal world, that’s easy.”

“You’re making it more difficult than it needs to be.” Jade issues an encouraging smile. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Are you seriously asking that?”

“It’s just something to consider.”

A minute ticks between them. Jade watches the scene alongside Azul, delighting in distant chaos.

“I’m afraid, Jade,” he admits quietly, the confession as soft and fragile as a single breath. “She’s everything and I’m…nothing.”

Jade frowns in disagreement.

“I’ve looked at it from every conceivable angle. There isn’t any calculated risk to be made—no potential profit or success to be had.”

“Are you certain?”

“Very.”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt to get it off your chest. We have a few weeks left before the break. If not your heart, perhaps you could establish a means to communicate?”

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt… For the sake of networking—”

Jade chuckles. “Networking? Is that it?”

Azul scowls. “You’re awfully irritating tonight.”

“I’m not the one with his tentacles tied, hopelessly infatuated.” 

“You—”

“(Name), there’s something Azul would like to tell you,” Jade announces, and you turn to look at him.

Azul thinks he should just go ahead and die right there. Is it possible to spontaneously combust if he thinks about it long enough? Is such a phenomenon magic? All he needs to do is visualize it and then the spark will catch and—

“Yeah? What’s up, Azul?”

Azul flounders, his concentration broken. Like he’s done so many times in the past, he plasters his trademark smirk-grin on and falls into the shoes of the sleazy conman. “If you ever find yourself in need of study materials even after I’ve graduated, do not hesitate to contact me and I—”

You laugh. “I think I’ll be good. Thanks, though.”

With withering confidence, he chuckles. “I could give you quite the deal. You’d be missing out…”

You roll your eyes, unconvinced.

Jade—annoying, asshole Jade—brushes past, smooth as sea glass. “I shall take my leave, but please continue your chat. I believe there’s a camera waiting to capture the memory of me.”

Now it’s just you and Azul. He clears his throat, suddenly awkward.

“(Name), I—”

“Azul—”

“Oh.” He stares at you, a smile twitching on his lips. “You first.”

“No, no, you spoke before me.”

“Ah. Well…”

If you confess now, you’ll have the entire summer to mend your tattered heart. As if a love that’s been flowering for two years could possibly be resolved within the span of a few months.

He tries again even though it’s not what he really wants to say. “I do hope you’ll have a pleasant summer.”

“You as well.” You nudge him. “Kick ass at your internship.”

“I intend to.” Right. Internship. Work. Business. He can hold a normal conversation if that’s the topic. “And you? Do you plan to stay here?”

“Yeah. Crowley’s letting Grim and me live on campus since we don’t have anywhere else to go. I’ll work part-time in Craneport. Summer is a great season for tourism, but I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

Azul laughs. “If it’s a family, they may spend more on kid’s menus for the novelty of it all. Be sure to talk it up to truly sell it. All children deserve to know the magic of a seasonal menu, do they not? Food in fun shapes. Fairy tales and sparkles. All of that razzmatazz. It’s the experience they’re paying for, after all.”

“Is that advice free?”

“Is it?”

“Fine, fine.” You dig through your pocket and hand him the photo from earlier. “Your payment, good sir. A memento of me.”

Azul takes it from you, admires your effortlessly pretty smile, and then freezes. “Oh, I look positively dreadful!”

“Not at all. It adds character.”

“A horrid sort of character.”

You sidle up beside him, peering at the picture. “I like it. It’s a photo of an imperfect Azul.”

“What an ambiguous compliment.”

“I’m serious! It’s Azul when he’s not acting. I like imperfect Azul. He’s authentic. A real person.” You pat him on the shoulder. He stiffens, betraying his initial nonchalance. “Or maybe not. One day I’ll catch you off guard.”

“We’ll see.”

“One day…” Your attention is stolen when you catch sight of the group attempting to bunch together for a selfie. Offering Azul that same smile he’s admired ever since he saw it, you add, “Have a fun summer. Don’t be a stranger next year, okay?” And then you’re bounding across the lounge. “Wait for me! I want in, too!”

For the rest of the semester, Azul keeps the photo tucked away in his phone case.

I have time to mull over the pros and cons, he tells himself when he departs through the mirror, summer break at his fingertips.

ii. summer - maybe i’m just too good. maybe i’ll run away. maybe i’m over you. maybe i shouldn’t stay. maybe i just don’t care. maybe i talk too much.

It occurs to you, while sorting through the photos you’ve taken throughout this past school year, that there’s an absurd amount of Azul. Whether on his own or with others, he appears in more photos than anyone else. You wonder how that happened—how you managed to be there for so many of his moments, each one documented in photographic permanence.

Some of them are humorous. Azul looking unimpressed when you lifted your camera to capture him. Grim jumping into his arms to demand snacks. His glasses sitting crooked on his face. Some of them are endearing. Azul reading in a comfortable nook in the library. Azul smiling fondly at the lens during an alchemy lesson. Azul laughing after you cracked a joke during PE. Some of them are animated. Azul waving at you from across the courtyard. Azul rolling his eyes at a dull pun. Azul playfully blowing a kiss to the camera after you told him to do something memorable. Some are special. Azul in his birthday robes. Azul during that time Mostro Lounge became a butler café for one week. Azul on his last day of the semester, leveling the camera with a roguish smirk.

This one—the most recent and last photo taken of him—is especially important. It’s the conversation that prompted an unforgettable expression that fills you with butterflies whenever you recall it.

“I think you’ll miss me,” you told him, elbowing him for good measure.

“I think I will,” he replied, his lips curling.

Unequipped to deliver a witty retort, you could only gawk.

“Don’t tell me that’s all it takes to shock you into silence.” He chuckled, and there was that infamous smirk-grin—sitting so perfectly on his face, as if it was meant to be there for this very exchange. “You’re too easy, (Name). Where’s the challenge?”

Wordlessly, you raised your Ghost Camera and snapped his picture.

There are so many facets to his person that you’ve managed to catch on your camera—complex layers you wouldn’t have otherwise witnessed if you hadn’t spent so much time around him.

Now you realize why you have an abundance of Azul photos.

We sure hung out a lot this year, and every time I had my camera…

Is he your muse? Is he just naturally photogenic? He fits into plenty of backgrounds, but it’s never the scenery that fascinates and bewitches. It’s always his expression, his body language, his emotions. And the reason all of these photos are so important is because this is an Azul who is comfortable enough to show these sides to you. An Azul who wants you to document his best and his worst, his beautiful and his ugly, his silly and his serious.

Sitting at your desk, thumbing through stacks of photos, you know he’s more than a muse. As you watch Azul move in various pictures, you wonder what he’s doing. It’s only a month into summer, but everything feels so slow. Campus has cleared out, and with it the lounge has closed for the season. You’re certain he still has his ways of making profit and spreading word of its wonders. Azul isn’t foolish. He’s always working an angle. Endlessly clever and stubbornly ambitious.

Does he miss me, too? you think, running your finger over his smiling face. Or was that just something he said to get a reaction?

Just then, a gut-wrenching thought lodges itself deep: Are we even friends? What if he thinks I’m a nuisance? Maybe he’s just tolerating me and all this time I’ve been delusional.

You glimpse the photos again, watching Azul laugh soundlessly in an animated loop. What am I to you, Azul?

As if on cue, having sensed your sadness, arms wrap around you from behind. For a second you think it’s Grim, but then you see distinctly human hands clasping together. You whirl, startled out of your skin, to find Azul Ashengrotto standing there.

“Wha… What?”

He’s…here. Azul is standing in your bedroom.

You blink once and he remains. You blink twice and he’s still there, gazing down at you with soft, smiling features.

“Hello to you as well.”

“Hey…?” You pat his cheek and flinch away. “Oh, you’re real!”

“Of course I am! Why wouldn’t I be?” Chuckling, he withdraws and moves to stand at your deskside. “I’m wounded. To think you would forget me just like that. And I thought I was plenty memorable.” He blows you a mock kiss then, and that’s when it finally strikes you.

This isn’t your Azul. This is an Azul from your photos.

How is this even possible? you think, scrambling to find which picture—which memory—he’s from. In doing so, you remember a particularly unique fact about the Ghost Camera. It’s a magical device that allows a photographer to capture slivers of their subject’s soul, which gives way to a special sort of connection known as a soulbond. The deeper the bond, the more likely the person in the photographs is to take on animation and, in some cases, slip out of the image that contains them.

So this is Azul from the time at which he was last photographed, you determine, holding up pictures to match his corporeal likeness to that of the scenery. The Ghost Camera is so cool…

“I missed you, you know.”

“Did you now?” He leans in close, curious. “How much?”

You push him away with a weak scoff. This isn’t good for your heart. Any closer and you might say something you’ll come to regret.

“Not as much as you think.”

“Is that so?” His gaze pans over to the pile of photos on your desk. “And these photos are simply here for convenience?”

“D-Don’t worry about it! Summer project. You wouldn’t get it.”

He flashes his teeth at you in a bright, competitive grin. “Try me.”

“You’re so nosy. Don’t you get tired of prying?”

“Not in the slightest.” He leans against the desk, his arms folding casually over his chest. “That’s besides the point. You’re avoiding the subject at hand.”

You turn in your chair and open your mouth to reply—why are you so invested in this?—but a better idea crops up. Meeting his cerulean stare with fierce, fiery eyes, you challenge him: “If it matters so much to you, I could be convinced to share my plans for the small price of one kiss. A real kiss. Not that fake one from before.”

Azul blinks back at you, a smirk crawling onto his face. “Is that all you desire?”

“What do you mean by—”

Your question is cut off when another set of arms embraces you from behind. Warm, soft lips press against your cheek; his breath tickles your ear.

“Are two not better than one?”

With a yelp, you jerk back so fast that you almost fall out of your chair. Standing there, looking very proud of himself, is another Azul. But this one, unlike Dorm Azul, is dressed in his school uniform. A very helpful distinction.

“D-Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

It’s the only coherent sentence you can manage. Your mind is a panicked muddle: I can’t believe it. Two Azuls. Am I dreaming? This is definitely a dream, right? There’s no way he’d kiss me on the…

You slap your hand over your cheek, gasping. “Y-You kissed me?!”

“Is that not the price you wanted me to pay?” School Azul asks, one brow raised as if daring you to deny that fact.

Dorm Azul’s fingers curl under your chin, guiding your gaze towards him. “Unless you’d like to raise the price…”

You swallow thickly. This can’t be happening.

“Of course, in raising the price, it’s expected you raise the value of the information you’re willing to divulge,” School Azul adds with a chuckle. “Is that not fair?”

You shrink under both of their insistent stares. “W-Why do you even wanna know?”

“Why not? Any information is good information so long as it’s useful.”

You scoff, but it comes out choked and shy. “I… I’m going to use these photos to put together a present for you. I know your birthday’s so far away, but I’m getting a head start.”

“And this present would entail…?”

You click your tongue at him. “I already paid my half for that kiss. No more.”

“Aah, is that right?” Dorm Azul leans in, kissing dangerously close to your lips. You reach up to touch the corner of your mouth after he’s pulled away. “How much for the full story?”

“How much are you willing to pay?”

School Azul rests his chin on your shoulder. His hands settle on your waist, pulling you up from your seat. This proximity allows you to feel his hair as it brushes against your face. Dorm Azul closes the distance as if it’s second nature, and now you’re sandwiched between the both of them.

Your heart stumbles in your chest. He’s quite literally surrounding you, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

“A very valid question.” Dorm Azul glances coyly at School Azul. “What do you think, Me?”

“Will we be enough for you, (Name)?” he purrs, rubbing slow circles into your hips.

You’re dizzy in their arms, your entire body warming with anticipation and embarrassment alike. Is it okay to be selfish? Even though this isn’t technically Azul—just mere memories of him—it seems so real. He’s holding you, touching you, reaching for you…

“Hmm. Two does seem to be a bit much.”

“Let’s call it a holiday and say it’s seasonal spoiling.”

“A gift for the summer.”

“Do open the window to let in the breeze. The heat is prone to making one feel rather…stuffy.”

They’re doing this on purpose. Maybe another Azul is more troublesome than I once thought. I can only handle so much charm!

Shrugging off self-doubt, you grab Dorm Azul by his lapels and yank him towards you, sealing the space that once separated your mouths in a hungry kiss. He melts against you, eyes fluttering shut. It’s quick and starved, the way you chase each other’s lips. You cling to him before you can fall, arms looped around his neck to keep him near.

Fully clothed and achingly desperate, you loathe the unbearable heat, but nothing is more molten than the space between your thighs.

Meanwhile, School Azul takes his sweet time running his hands along your sides, up the length of your body until he reaches your chest. With his form pinned to yours, you can feel his erection pressing against your ass. Rather shamelessly, he rolls his hips. You’re pushed up against Dorm Azul next, who takes hold of your hand and guides it to the strain in his slacks. He pulls away briefly to allow School Azul to slide your shirt up and over your head.

“Were you anticipating this?” he whispers, taking hold of your breasts.

“No way,” you protest between kisses. “Not… No. K-Keep dreaming. It’s too much trouble to wear one in the summer. Gets hot and—”

Dorm Azul captures your lips in another ravenous smooch, and the objection dies in your throat.

“There’s no need for these pesky articles where I’m from,” School Azul murmurs. He presses kisses into your bare shoulder, humming his very obvious delight. “You’d have already been laid out beneath me if that were the case… Soft and sweet, all mine to love at the bottom of the sea…”

“Humans have so many steps,” Dorm Azul laments, tutting.

“And merfolk don’t?” You try to sound smart with your question, but it comes out breathless when your nipple’s twisted between two fingers. “Oh…”

“Not when it comes to clothing. The very concept doesn’t exist beneath the waves.”

“You could visit sometime and see for yourself. I’ll welcome you with open arms.” Dorm Azul rests his forehead against yours. “And maybe then you’ll find yourself so taken with my home that you’ll want to stay.”

“A tempting offer.”

“But?” he prompts, his gaze falling to your hand as you palm him through his pants. He inhales a shaky breath.

“What’s stopping you?” the other Azul asks, his voice muffled in your skin.

“Firstly, I’m not a mer.”

“My dear, that’s nothing. Have you forgotten my proficiency in potionology?”

“And how much will one of your potions cost? I’d love to visit, but if it’s going to bankrupt me—”

“For you, a single kiss is all I require.”

“Isn’t that awfully cheap?”

Dorm Azul chuckles at this back-and-forth. “You say that as if you want me to charge an exorbitant amount.”

Glaring, you squeeze him out of revenge. His laughter comes out choked next, replaced with a needy whimper. Unbelievable.

“Maybe I do.”

“I would be careful with those words, dearest. I might take them to heart.”

He ruts against your hand, panting into your mouth. The kiss is sloppy and wet, all tongue and saliva. You move on instinct, grabbing at his shoulders when you’re taken to bed next. Both Azuls peer down at you from where they kneel on either side of you. They issue you hazy, lust-drunk smiles. Hands wander, feeling every inch you have to offer. You shut your eyes and submit to titillating touches.

“You really did miss me,” School Azul remarks when his fingers slip into your shorts to rub you through your sodden panties. Your breath hitches, a strangled whine squeezed from your throat, and he laughs. “I missed you, too.”

“I really like you,” you blurt, chest heaving with your every breath. He squeezes your clit to draw another sinful groan from you. “I think—Azul, you’re so—I think you’re so amazing… I wish we talked more. The year—aah… It went by so fast.”

“It did, didn’t it?”

“I wanna know you—the real you. I wanna know what Azul’s like when he’s comfortable and when he’s sad and when he’s happy. I wanna—ooh! Please… Please, Azul…” You grab fistfuls of the sheets, arching up towards the hands that caress your stomach lovingly. “I just want you.”

“And you’ll have me,” he—you’re not sure which—promises, leaning over to kiss you. It’s soulful passion, lust bleeding into love. Your cries are lost on his lips when you come undone beneath him, buoyant on a mellow wave.

You sense the loss before you see it.

Half-nude and gasping for breath, you stare up at the ceiling. Your bedroom is empty. All that remains of the Azuls are the animated memories imprinted on the photographs.

“I’m losing my mind…” you mutter, draping your arm over your eyes.

Please let summer pass quickly.

iii. winter - maybe all we are is fools with hearts that tried too hard. and maybe that’s just fine as long as you’re here in my arms.

Azul paces restlessly in his VIP room. It’s been months since he’s seen you, but his heart hasn’t swayed in the slightest. If anything, he’s only grown fonder in the time spent apart. Absence… What a bothersome thing.

“You’re gonna walk yourself into the floor, y’know. Your shoes’ll be all worn out by the time you’re done.”

“I’m aware,” Azul quips, uncharacteristically jittery. He turns towards Floyd. “Do I look presentable? Is anything crooked or misplaced? How about my hair?”

“You’re fine.” At Azul’s disbelieving glower, Floyd pouts. “I mean it. Shrimpy’s gonna like it either way.”

He bristles, defensive. “Who said anything about (Name)?”

“No one, but you’re thinkin’ it.”

“I… T-That’s besides the point! It doesn’t matter. She’s only here because I invited her. Common courtesy and all that.”

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

Azul frowns at the vault set into the wall behind his desk. If only he could pack all of his fears in there and lock them away for good. Then he could continue masquerading as someone fearless and confident. With winter having descended upon campus, bringing with it layers of fluffy, glittering snow, and the cultural festival having concluded successfully, Azul finds himself lost.

This is the last birthday he’ll celebrate at Night Raven College and, subsequently, the last February he’ll spend with you. He’s running out of time.

“Invitation or not, Shrimpy’ll always wish you a happy birthday. S’not like her to forget. Plus, she cares about ya.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

Azul’s tone is so sharp that Floyd raises his hands in defense. “Guess not.”

“What would you do?” He inhales a wobbly breath. “If you were in my shoes…”

Floyd scratches the back of his neck, contemplative. “Dunno. Guess I’d wait for the right moment and say somethin’ to get it outta my system.”

Azul sighs. “Jade said something similar.”

“He ain’t wrong.”

“I’m not prepared.”

“No one is.” Floyd smiles at Azul’s baffled expression. “C’mon, Azul, you can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to. S’just how it is.”

“Even so, it’s better to know all viable routes and options before diving into uncharted waters.”

“That’s just it. You can’t know. S’kinda the whole point, ain’t it?”

“I can’t do it,” he decides, the words heavy on his tongue. “I’d rather accept my future failure now than continue working towards it.”

“Like a coward.”

“Far from it! In business, that’s known as rescission. It is a completely valid method of—”

“You ever realize your feelings and business are two separate things? Not everything’s gotta be about business.”

Azul stands there, nonplussed.

Floyd makes for the door, stopping only to add, “Your fly’s unzipped, by the way.”

“You—” He scrambles to check. Much to his relief, it’s not. “Honestly… That’s not even funny.”

He smooths nonexistent wrinkles, schools his expression into something brave, and exhales slowly. I’m not going to ruin an occasion as grand as this with a half-baked confession.

Having made up his mind, he steps through the door out into the bustling lounge. Like clockwork, all eyes turn to him. He searches the crowd for you, hopeful. But before he can locate you, party poppers resound with a loud bang. Confetti trickles down like colorful rainfall, landing on his suit and getting stuck in his hair.

“Happy birthday, Azul!”

He wants to run and hide. He wants to dive into the sea and seek solace in his favorite octopus pot. He wants to bury himself in the sand and disappear.

Instead, he smiles and spreads his arms like he’s just pulled off an astounding magic trick. “Why, thank you, everyone! I’m pleased you could make it. Do enjoy yourselves to the fullest tonight.”

Cheers erupt amongst the partygoers, but they might as well be on a completely different island. Azul turns, hoping to make his rounds and escape, but Kalim intercepts him. Jamil isn’t far behind.

“Azul, happy birthday!” Kalim smiles just as Jamil catches up.

He passes two expertly wrapped gifts into Azul’s empty hands. “On behalf of Kalim and myself, thank you for the invitation.”

“Yeah, super thanks! It’s been so much fun. I hope you’ll like your gift, but if you don’t just let me know and I’ll get you something else. Whatever you want! You deserve it on your special day.”

Azul looks past him, not in the mood to entertain. “Yes, of course. It’s not a problem.”

Jamil raises a brow, but then it clicks. “(Name) wanted me to pass on her regards.”

As expected, that draws his attention. “Why’s that?”

“She wasn’t sure if she’d get to see you on your big, busy day.” Jamil eyes Azul knowingly.

Kalim nods. “We ran into her on the way here, but she said to go on without her.”

Azul doesn’t like the way they’re both looking at him—as if they’re in on some joke he’s not currently aware of.

“Well,” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “her regards are well-received.”

“You’re not going to meet her?”

“It’s my big, busy day, isn’t it? I’m afraid she’ll have to catch me at her earliest convenience.” Azul, gifts in hand, smiles. “Please do enjoy the party, you two. Thank you again for your thoughtful gifts and birthday wishes.”

On his way to the table designed for gifts, Azul spots Riddle, Silver, and Ruggie. They stand off to the side, chatting amongst themselves. He supposes, if anything, he might as well say hello. Setting the gifts down, Azul struts over.

“Good evening, gentlemen. I do hope you’re enjoying yourselves.”

“You know it. Parties at Octavinelle are always somethin’ else,” Ruggie says. Unsurprisingly, he’s done well to fix himself a plate and more. With him around Azul doesn’t have to fret over food waste.

“Your presentation at the cultural festival was very informative, if I may say so,” Riddle commends, sipping his fizzy beverage.

“As was yours.” Azul’s smile tightens. For some reason, he’s always felt the need to walk on eggshells around Riddle. And for good reason, too! Whatever Azul seems to accomplish, no matter how lofty a feat, Riddle seems to do better. “I’m sure you’ve had quite the rewarding experience yourself.”

“Indeed.”

“It’s good timing,” Silver notes, and all eyes drift towards him. Azul perks up. Timing. He needs more of that. “Your birthday came right after the festival. It’s almost like celebrating your hard work and another healthy year all in one.”

“Never thought about it that way. Guess it makes sense when you put it like that.” Ruggie grins cheekily. “Lucky you, Azul.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck. The dates just happened to align… Either way, thank you, Silver. I’m pleased you can look at it with such inspiring positivity.”

“You catch up with (Name) yet?”

“No? Am I meant to?”

“Just asking.” Ruggie shrugs. “She had me run a few errands for her yesterday. Said it was all for your sake, but when I tried to get more info outta her she told me I’d have to wait for ‘the big reveal’—whatever that is.”

Now everyone’s looking at him. Azul feels small.

“With how often I’ve heard her name tonight, I’d think she’s the one with the birthday.”

“Is she really so popular today? Odd. I haven’t had the chance to greet her,” Riddle muses.

“I thought I saw her this afternoon.” Silver furrows his brow, uncertain. “She seems busy.”

“Which is precisely why I can’t fathom the insistence that I ought to have met with her already.”

Ruggie tilts his head. “That the only reason?”

Just how many people are in on this asinine joke? More importantly, which eel is he going to have to wring out for spilling a not-so-secret secret?

Azul realizes his mask is slipping and so he repairs it expertly. If Ruggie takes notice of this, he doesn’t say anything. “It’s bad manners to show up late to a party. I’m sure one of us will agree.”

Riddle nods, but his words are surprisingly lenient. “Life happens. I suppose we can’t fault (Name) entirely.”

“She’ll make it. I’m sure she will. Don’t worry, Azul,” Silver reassures.

He’s not. He won’t. He isn’t.

“If the world was ending tomorrow,” Ruggie says, sliding into a new subject with practiced finesse, “what would you all do?”

“The end of the world…” Riddle frowns. “That’s impossible.”

“It’s a hypothetical. Anything’s possible.”

Silver hums thoughtfully. “I’d spend what time I have left with my loved ones.”

“You sure you’re not just gonna go running back to Briar Valley to protect Malleus?”

“As a guard it’s my duty, but fighting against the inevitable would be pointless.” Silver looks to the rest of them for their input. “If the world is ending and there’s nothing a guard like myself can do to prevent it, then I can only offer what’s left of my time.”

“So companionship. Okay, good to know. What about you, Riddle?”

He huffs. “I refuse to let the world end before I’ve accomplished my goals.”

“Yikes. You academic types don’t rest, do you?”

“No, no, it’s true,” Azul pipes up. “I agree. Why am I going to let the world get in the way of my plans?”

“So both of you are going to resist it until the very end?”

“You said anything can happen in a hypothetical, yes?” Riddle smirks. “In my hypothetical the world says it’ll end tomorrow, but it never does. It keeps saying so like it’s a faulty forecast. The end of the world is scheduled for next week, the week after, three weeks from now. By then, a year’s passed and the world still hasn’t ended.”

Ruggie groans. “That defeats the whole purpose of my question. You can’t give yourself more time when it’s already so limited.”

“Anything is possible if you know what you’re working with,” Azul adds, nodding alongside Riddle. “I quite like this hypothetical.”

“Leave it to the honors students to logic it out and make it more complicated than it needs to be…”

“You wouldn’t spend it with your loved ones?” Silver asks, but it appears as if the question is directed entirely at Azul. “I think I’d want to tell them the things I never got to say. Things I put off saying… Would you do that, too, Azul?”

“I…” He shuts his mouth and then opens it. “I’m not sure what I could possibly say within such a limited timeframe.”

“It doesn’t have to be complex.”

“I guess a good, old ‘love you lots’ is better than nothing,” Ruggie says.

Azul stops short. The end of the world. Time. Loss. Loved ones.

Time! He’s running out of time!

“Well, this was quite the lively discussion, but I’m afraid I’ll have to excuse myself now. There are a few more people I must meet.” Azul smiles gratefully at the three of them. They wish him another happy birthday before he finally departs, his heart in his throat.

He’s running out of time.

Logically, Azul knows the feeling doesn’t reflect his reality. It’s not as if he has to confess by the end of the school year. Logically, he has his entire life to confess. But who’s to say you’ll stay in his life after he graduates? You might be gone by the time he finally finds the right words, the right time, the right circumstance.

You can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to.

Floyd’s right. There’s no way of knowing for sure until he does it. There’s no way to know what lies in those uncharted waters until he dives in. There’s no way to know where your heart lies until he confesses.

The world isn’t going to end tomorrow, but if he doesn’t say what he needs to before graduation he’ll never have another chance. And then that world—the world contained within NRC’s boundaries—will implode and that will be that.

At that very moment, a camera flashes. He spins around to search the photographer out and—

There you are, striding through throngs of people to reach him. There you are, dressed for the occasion. There you are, wearing that pretty smile he sees in his dreams.

“Happy birthday!” You turn the photo towards him for his viewing pleasure. It’s of him, staring off into space. He looks so stone-faced with his knitted brows and pursed lips. “Sorry about showing up late. I had to add the finishing touches to your present.”

You hand it to him. The amateur wrapping job makes the gift appear more lumpy than it actually is. It’s heavy like a textbook. Shaped as such, too. Azul wonders what its contents could be. Perhaps something relating to economics? A novel in a particular genre?

“Thank you very much. I’ll take good care of both.” He tucks the picture into his breastpocket, battling the urge to tear into your gift now. He needs to know. What did you get him? What could it possibly be? “I’m glad you could make it.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

“Even if the world was ending?”

“Uh… What?”

“Ah, never mind that. It was simply a lingering thought from a previous conversation.”

“That’s so grim! And on your birthday, no less.”

Azul waves his hand through the air. A playful smile draws his lips apart. “Can you believe Riddle said he’d make the apocalypse wait on his behalf?”

“Seriously?” You snort, eyes brightening with amusement. “Even the apocalypse gets a schedule…”

He barks out a laugh. “Insanity, isn’t it?”

“Maybe for us, but definitely not for Riddle.” You glance at him. “What about you? What does Azul Ashengrotto’s last day look like?”

He intends to answer with something prepackaged: Awash in success until the very end!

“Alone.”

“Really? No friends or family by your side?”

“Would that make it better? Perhaps being surrounded by others only intensifies the dread.”

There’s some sort of symbolism in coming into the world alone and going out the same. Azul just can’t quite phrase it eloquently.

“Maybe there’s no right answer. Maybe there’s not any comfort in it either.” You run your fingers over the edges of your Ghost Camera. “We can’t know what lies ahead until we’re there. Maybe that’s why we spend so much time theorizing.”

“Quite the insightful judgment.”

“For the record, I wouldn’t mind being your plus-one for the end of the world.”

“I’m flattered.” He grins. “I shall be yours in return.”

“No strings attached?”

“All the strings attached. So many,” he exaggerates.

“No fair!”

Silence fills in the cracks. You stand side by side, drinking in Mostro Lounge’s upbeat atmosphere. After some time, you nudge him.

“Look at us, speaking about all of these sad things. It’s your birthday, not a funeral!”

He wonders if now’s a good time. Should he lighten the mood and confess? But wouldn’t that just make it even more serious and somber? Is there ever going to be an opportune moment?

You can plan all you want, but you know life’s never gonna go the way you want it to.

Surprises. Spontaneity. Luck. All things left to chance. All things Azul attempts to anticipate. He thinks back on the many plans and what-ifs he calculated and wonders if it was worth it.

“(Name), I just wanted to say—” He stops himself, his fingers curling around the gift cradled in his arms. I love you and I want you in my life. I don’t want the world to end here with you and me. I want to know what lies beyond and experience it with you—the good and the bad. Everything. “I just wanted to thank you.”

For being my friend. For being yourself. For existing in the same world as me, even if it feels like we’re doomed to be islands apart.

“What’s this? Genuine thanks? Am I going to find an anemone on my head next?”

“That can be arranged. Isn’t it tradition to grant the person of the hour one birthday favor?”

“Hah! You wish!”

I do. I really do.

The party wears on into the night. Azul repeats the same mantra as before: I have time.

When he’s in his room, gifts piled high on his desk, he sits back in his seat and carefully unwraps yours. It’s a book, leather-bound and regal. It looks expensive. While attempting to approximate its value, he reads the title spelled out with alphabet stickers: My Azul. His brow furrows. Just what are you playing at here?

Cautiously, he opens the book to the first page. Your writing winks back at him: Happy birthday, Azul! This is my gift to you. It’s a chronological journal of your school life! :D People often say it’s difficult to picture themselves through the eyes of others, so I wanted to show you what I see every time I look at you. I hope you’ll never forget just how important you are. If you ever do, open this book to remind yourself.

With love always,

(Name).

“Curious,” he mumbles, flipping the page. The layout reminds him of a scrapbook. You’ve decorated it with stickers and patterned tape, scrawled words in different colored inks. There are two photographs—each from Azul’s second year. He’d forgotten about these. That time it snowed so much the students had a snowball fight in the courtyard. That time an alchemy accident (courtesy of Grim) led to Azul speaking in cat for the rest of the day.

In the center, a small blurb reads: My Azul is terrifyingly good at making snowballs within record time, just as he’s terrifyingly good at marketing them at all the right moments. My team was totally losing. Leave it to Azul to swoop in when he knows it’s advantageous… He’s intelligent and passionate. Even when mistakes occur, he works through them effortlessly. (Although it was nice having Catzul for a day!)

He rolls his eyes at that last bit.

The next page displays photos in much the same fashion. You’ve clearly put lots of effort and thought into each arrangement. Azul feels like he’s walking through a museum with every page. Like the first, the rest of the pages that follow include photographs of himself (some with others and some with you) and a short paragraph describing your observations.

His eyes are on the verge of a typhoon as he soaks in every sugared sentence.

My Azul is strong. My Azul is silly. My Azul has the best laugh. My Azul is great at bargaining. My Azul is awkward. My Azul is clumsy (in the best ways). My Azul is resourceful. My Azul makes the best study guides (thank you!!!!). My Azul is a hero. My Azul never gives up. My Azul is a talented mage. My Azul is…

All of these things he’s never heard anyone acknowledge before—have you always seen him in this way? Is this truly what he’s like through your eyes? He finds that hard to believe, and yet there he is on the page, winking at the camera or posing in an outfit from one of the many school trips he’s attended. You’ve added little comments and doodles in the margins and corners. Azul smiles as he reads them.

Noble Bell College sure was something! I’d like to visit again one day…

Vargas Camp was exhausting! I still can’t believe we survived.

Halloween! I want to experience it in the Coral Sea one day. But maybe just for one night. An endless Halloween is too much…

The ceremonial robes are very pretty. They’re so different from the uniforms in my world.

Happy Beans Day! Azul prepares all year for this. That level of commitment is impressive!

Azul reaches the end with watery eyes. He sniffles, so enveloped in a love he’s never felt from any friend before. You care. You truly, honestly care. It’s clear in each and every page—in the words you’ve written. You care about him.

The final page has a blank space the rough shape and size of a photograph. For some reason he understands what he’s meant to do. He slides the photograph you gave him all that time ago from his phone case and pastes it to the space. And then he reads what’s written below.

My Azul keeps all of these walls up in order to protect himself. He’s sensitive and self-conscious. He likes to uphold a perfect image at all times. He likes to keep his weaknesses hidden, his cards close. But then he’s also funny. He’s sincere and gentle. He’s sweet. He’s someone I admire from all sides, good and bad. Even when he’s scheming, even when he’s acting, he’s still Azul. My camera’s captured so many of his moments, which is very apparent now that you’ve made it to the end. But I’m happy to have documented these moments because they showcase everything that makes my Azul himself.

My Azul has never looked “positively dreadful” to my camera. Even on the days where he feels like nothing, my Azul is everything to me. I will always think so.

He’s crying. He can’t help it.

Azul sits there and he sobs.

He sobs until his throat is dry, until his eyes are blotchy and red. He sobs until he can’t anymore.

Holding the book close to his chest, he wonders how he ever managed to befriend someone like you.

An angel. That’s what you are.

An angelfish.

And he’s Azul. Your Azul.

iv. spring - but, baby, i’ll be there. yeah, baby, i’ll be there. it’s been a little hard. i’ve been a little tough. but maybe all along i’m afraid, i’m afraid, i’m afraid. i’m afraid, i’m afraid, i’m afraid.

The air is sweet with the scent of blossoming flowers, thick with pollen. Azul’s chest is light, swelling with excitement. A new chapter is about to begin. In just a few hours he’ll graduate along with the rest of his peers and then it’s off to start another story. For Azul, this is just a continuation of something already so prolific.

He strolls past The Great Seven, pausing briefly to admire the Sea Witch in all of her tentacular glory.

“With this weather, it’s almost difficult to imagine they called for rain.” Jade peers up at the sun, shielding its obtrusive rays with one hand.

“They’re always gettin’ it wrong,” Floyd says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “So annoying. I was hopin’ it’d rain and then they’d cancel.”

“Unlikely. There are always contingency plans put in place when it comes to an event as momentous as graduation.”

“Bleh. Lame. I wanna skip. I hate bein’ in those stuffy clothes, packed in close like a sardine.”

“If you’re absent, you won’t receive your diploma.”

“What a scam.”

Jade simply smiles. Ironic.

Azul turns around to look at them. “Four years… Gone in a blink. Will either of you miss it?”

“It was certainly enjoyable. I admit there are some aspects I’ll miss quite fiercely.”

“Guess it’ll be a bummer not seein’ everyone all the time. I’m gonna miss playing with Baby Seal and Shrimpy.”

“I’ll miss them, too.” Azul sighs. “(Name) especially…”

“You still haven’t told her?” Floyd raises a brow. “You’re gonna leave without sayin’ a word?”

“That does seem to be the plan,” Jade answers.

“I… I’ve thought it over.” He clears his throat. No time for waterworks. He needs to be in top shape if he’s to deliver the opening speech as Salutatorian. Riddle took first place, which wasn’t a shock to anyone. He always did say he’d make Valedictorian no matter what. Azul had been keen to fight him for it, even if it became clear he’d never surpass him. Second place is irksome, but it has its merits. Although he isn’t going to settle with just that! He’ll get first place one of these days. “We’re better off friends.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Is that enough?”

“Is what enough?”

“Her friendship.”

“It’ll have to be.” Azul’s gaze glazes over.

He’s run out of time, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe that was meant to be.

“Well, let’s not dwell on it any further!” He claps his hands and turns swiftly on his heel. “There’s still work to be done.”

Jade and Floyd exchange furtive glances. They know as well as he does that he’s lying.

But maybe that was also meant to be.

— — —

Crowley tasked you with snapping photos for NRC’s yearbook. “Because I am a paragon of magnanimity,” he said, “I am entrusting this very important task to you once more. Take lots of pictures! Don’t miss a single moment!”

You do just that, photographing the graduates as they wait in a room behind the stage, chattering eagerly amongst themselves. You raise your camera to document Azul when he stands at the podium to give his salutation speech. You do the same for Riddle when it’s his turn. The ceremony is grand, ballooning with emotion. You look on with a cheek-splitting smile, proud of every student who crosses the stage. It’s bittersweet. The friends you made when you were enrolled as a first year are now moving on in life.

Time flies. What a whirlwind year it’s been.

When it’s Azul’s turn and he goes down the line to shake the hands of his professors and Crowley, you wave at him from your place in the audience. He meets your eyes from where he stands, and he smiles.

Your camera catches that moment in perfect permanence.

By the end of it all, your face hurts from smiling, your throat sore from cheering, your hands raw from clapping. Grim grumbles at you to knock it off with the sun shower, your tears dampening his fur. You wipe your eyes and sniffle. “I’m happy for them. It’s a good day.”

He forces his head under your palm, allowing you to pet him and cry through it in peace. He doesn’t say anything. You don’t need him to.

While the graduates meet up with their family and friends, you make your rounds. Kalim introduces you to his parents and siblings—all thirty-something of them. You’re in a daze by the time introductions are finished, and Jamil leans over to whisper, “No need to commit everyone to memory.”

“Have you talked to Azul yet?” Kalim asks after everything has settled down.

You shake your head. “Why? What’s up?”

“Just wanted to ask. I know the Headmage wants you to take lots of pictures.”

“We shouldn’t keep you any longer than we already have,” Jamil adds with a curt nod.

You smile. “Congrats, both of you. Good luck.”

“We gotta keep in touch. Promise me you’ll call whenever you can. You’re always welcome to visit, too! Oh, I’ll go check with my parents now! I’m sure they’ll say yes!” Kalim bounds off in their direction.

“Just let me know well in advance. That way I can plan for proper accommodations,” Jamil says, following Kalim with sharp eyes.

“I’ll do that.” You turn to leave and then stop. “I hope you get your vacation one day, Jamil.”

He stares at you, mystified, before a gentle smile softens on his face. “One day,” he echoes. “I hope you’ll find your way home.”

“One day.”

The two of you share a final look before going your separate ways.

Surrounded in such an energetic environment, talking to and meeting families, you find yourself longing for your loved ones. So much time has passed. You wonder how they’re doing. Are they well? Are they worried?

“Aah, it’s Shrimpy!” Floyd crashes into you with so much force you nearly topple. He steadies you with a giggle. “Where’s Baby Seal?”

“Left to gorge on refreshments. Hey, since you’re here, can I get your picture?”

“Course you can.”

Detaching himself, he poses for you. You take a few photos, mirroring his good mood.

“Are your parents around?”

“Mhm!”

“Seriously? They came?”

“Course they did.”

“Did they take transformation potions?”

Floyd nods. “Pops does land business sometimes, so he’s used to it. Mama doesn’t leave home much. She’s real bad at walking on her feet.”

“Ah, got it.”

Floyd grins down at you. “You wanna meet ’em?”

“Maybe later… I’ve gotta keep taking photos.”

“I gotcha. Make sure to snap a few of Azul.”

“Right! Speaking of him, where is he? I’ve spoken to everyone but him.”

Floyd peers out across a sea of faces, scanning each one like a predator sizing up his next meal. “He’s avoidin’ ya.”

“What? Why?”

“Why don’tcha ask him when you see him? Bet he’ll have a fun answer for ya.”

You would, if only you could find him. As the afternoon wears on, you begin to lose hope. If he’s truly hiding from you, he’s doing a great job of it. After what feels like hours of walking in aimless circles, you take pause to consider the situation. If you were Azul and you wanted to hide away for a little while, where would you go?

To someplace familiar. To someplace comfortable. To someplace quiet.

He’s pacing in front of Ramshackle when you arrive. You open the gate and step through, taking each step one at a time. Once you’re within a close enough proximity, you make your presence known.

“Azul?”

He startles and whips around. As soon as he sees you, he lurches forward, intending to leave.

You block his path. “Hey, wait! What gives? I’ve been looking all over for you. Floyd told me you’re avoiding me.”

“Floyd doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“But I’m sure you do. So what’s up?”

“It’s…nothing. I merely wanted to tour campus one last time.”

“Oh. Why didn’t you say anything? I would’ve come with you!” You attempt to elbow him, but he side-steps you. “Uh, right…”

“Ah, sorry. I… Admittedly, there’s quite a lot on my mind.”

“I get it. Congrats, by the way. Your speech was really good.”

“I’m pleased you think so.”

This…isn’t Azul, you realize, a frown flickering on your face. At least not the Azul I usually see.

“I got to meet all of Kalim’s siblings.”

“Did you? All of them?”

“Every. Single. One. His family’s huge!”

An uncomfortable silence festers between the two of you. You glance at your camera and then at Azul.

“Can you believe that Crowley? He wanted me to take all of these pictures, but there were dozens of professionals who did it much better than me! What was even the point?”

“Terrible, isn’t it? A job as good as the one you do deserves proper payment.”

“Exactly! My services aren’t free.”

Azul smiles, a wistful gloss to his gaze. You can see the cogs turning behind his eyes—can see the calculation as it comes to fruition.

“You can cry. I won’t judge.”

“I’m not going to.”

“It’s fine. It’s normal, Azul.”

He inhales a deep breath, holds it for three seconds, and then releases. When he looks at you next, his expression is hard and riddled with subdued anxiety. A zephyr blows between you, rustling the leaves in the trees, raking through the grass, dragging wispy fingers through your clothes and hair. The quiet expands and stretches wide.

Azul opens his mouth, shuts it, and sighs. A forlorn resignation flits over his countenance.

“I—” he swallows hard and then it just bursts free, the admission he’s kept secret for so long— “I love you.”

Another breeze combs through the premises. Your gasp is swept away with it.

“I’ve loved you for two years. And I… I wanted to tell you so many times in the past, but I never could. I was scared and I ran away. I still am! The truth is that I’m afraid of losing you. I’m afraid of messing up in front of you and looking like a fool. I’m afraid of showing you the parts of myself I hate most. I’m even afraid of that phrase—of saying it because it terrifies me to think, in some distant world, it might be reciprocated. But I have to say it, and I want you to know. Even if you don’t feel the same, I have to tell you.”

You gape at him, utterly speechless. The longer you do so, the more flustered he becomes.

“Y-You’re free to think it’s gross or weird. I understand I’m not the most ideal candidate, but I…” He wrings his hands, exhaling shakily. “I think you’re everything. My whole world.”

There are so many things you want to say. So, so many. But they’re all jumbled, carried along like flowers floating down a stream in spring. You close the gap, taking his hands in yours, and you kiss him.

Azul startles, squeaking against your lips. It takes a minute for him to find his rhythm, but soon he’s wilting against you, his body relaxed. You taste saliva and salt—tears. When you pull back, he’s crying.

“I think you’re the most ideal candidate. I’ve always thought so.” You cradle his cheek in a warm hand.

A sob trembles through him. “I never thought—you’re just so… I couldn’t have imagined…”

“That I’d like you?”

“Yes!”

“Why?” “Because…”

“I’ve always liked you, Azul. I’d never lie about that. Your birthday gift—those are my honest opinions.”

“Every one of them?”

“Each and every one.”

He sniffles weakly, drying his eyes with the heel of his palm.

Instinctively, you reach for your camera. And then you hesitate. You’ve always stood behind the protective lens of your trusty Ghost Camera, assuming the role of photographer in order to remain in his orbit. But now you’d like to try putting the camera aside and documenting Azul’s moments with your own two eyes.

He loves me.

You just manage to shut the front door before you’re pulling him flush against you. He presses you up against the wall in the foyer, a knee slotting between your legs. You melt in mutual merriment, grabbing at every part of him. Your uniform blouse is ripped open in a hurry. You try to handle his graduation robes with caution, appreciating expensive embroidery, but vehemence gets the better of you. It’s a wild rush. Hot and panting, you’re shuddering in carnal delight, every nerve alight. When he presses up against you next, half-dressed and hazy with an addictive adoration, you can feel the result of your exploratory touches straining for release.

“Upstairs,” you mumble against his mouth, sweating out of your skin.

You fall into bed as one, tangled around each other. Azul trails kisses up the expanse of your stomach, working you open on skillful fingers. You shiver beneath him, your heart pounding in your ribs.

“I love you.” A kiss to your belly.

“I love you.” A kiss to the valley of your breasts.

“I love you.” A kiss to your lips.

You love him just as intensely. 

He drags his fingers out next, admiring the slick coating them like it’s a valuable substance. You giggle, dizzy with delirium.

“Can I call you mine?”

You run your hands up and down his arms. “I’d like that.”

“Your boyfriend,” he murmurs, astonished. “I’m your boyfriend…”

“Mhm…” You sit up in bed and climb into his lap. Slowly, inch by inch, you lower yourself. He sucks in a breath through grit teeth. “And I’m—mmh—I’m your girlfriend.”

Azul whines into your mouth. His arms wrap around you to keep you firmly pinned to his body, and he bucks his hips up to meet you the rest of the way. Filled in such a way, connected so intimately, you breathe a satisfied sigh. You dig your nails into his shoulders. Every muscle slackens. It’s bliss, pure and perfect. The both of you mold to one another like sea meeting shore.

You grind down, chasing a mounting climax. “You’re the best—perfect. So perfect. Oh, I love you, Azul. I love you so much. I’ve always wanted to say it.”

He presses his forehead to yours. “You have no idea how fervently I’ve yearned for this—for you.”

You can’t possibly begin to imagine, but you can definitely relate. Weeks of silent pining, of hoping something might happen and you’d be able to confess without fear. Those days are behind you. Now you can know love in his arms and it isn’t so uncertain.

You lose yourselves in the sensations of sweet, soulful sex. He’s gentle like a spring breeze, dedicated like a devotee at your altar. You’re much the same, your moans just as plentiful. Just as loud. You’re wrapped in wonder when you look into his eyes and find the same amount of love reflected back.

I’m so happy I met you.

When he cums, he digs his fingers into your hips to drag you down and bury himself deeper inside. You unravel shortly after, your orgasm coaxed out by a few attentive massages to your clit. Your bodies, sticky and sweaty, stay connected even after you’ve come down from the clouds.

“Had I known, I would’ve said something sooner.” After catching his breath, Azul rests his head in the crook of your neck. “I regret it.”

“I don’t. Things happen when they happen.” You run your fingers through the tangled, silvery strands of his hair. It’s soft just like him. He leans into your touch and hums appreciatively. “I’m glad it happened when it did.”

“I’m glad I could say it. It would’ve eaten me alive if I’d left without telling you.”

“And are you still afraid?”

Azul places his hand over yours. “No, not anymore. The world ahead looks much clearer now.”

“Am I in it?”

He laughs. “More than that.”

“Oh?”

“You are my world.”

[florasvenus]

My Sweet Little Demon

Pairing : So’Lek x Na’vi (Avatar) Female!Reader

Warnings : Smut, Sexual/ Explicit Contents, Slight Fluff, Posessive attitude, So’lek and reader in Love, p in v Slight agressive behaviour, swearing and that should be it.

A/ N : Hello Everyone! I hope you’ll like this story. I originally come from AO3. Mostly surfing on there, but I decided to take a look here and found the vibe pretty nice. I decided to write this So’lek fic because I obviously got obsessed with him and I guess not having the game contributed to it even more for some reason? Plus I am very obsessed with Neteyam too as I just watched the movie again, so it all restarted lol. I hope I'll be forming a nice community here. For now this will be it. Smooch 💕💙

Index : Tawtute = Human/ SkyPerson | Nga yawne lu oer = I love you

Nga yawne lu oer...

Nga yawne lu oer~

You pronounce together, looking profoundly in eachothers irises. Each of them a pure yellow color. Dark pupils dancing in the golden sky. So’lek kisses with lust the slight swell of your stomach, slowling traiking up to suck on one of your hardened nipples. He quits it with a small pop, the humid glaze of left on it making them more enticing than they already were. He sits up on his heels, after your long make out session. As he leans back, his erected cock bobs and twitches in anticipation. Without any shame you glide the flat of your hand over his torso, down his abs until you grab his throbbing dick showing a delightful bead of pre-cum. You slowly caress him and he lets his head fall back, locks danfling down, waving down at his round ass contracting in need. With a swallow he recovers and adjust himself, ready to enter your beautiful flower.

So’lek pierces the breach of your dripping entrance with a low growl. Gritting his teeth to the point of grinding, he lets out a jerky breath at the sight of his pretty tawtute spread out for him beneath his thick, masculine frame. He tightens his grip around your thighs, whitening his knuckles even more, and spreads your legs with surprising grace, considering everything about him radiates strength, endurance and certainly not softness. He looks at you with hooded eyes and a snarl is blown to your nose, contrasting the care he's been laying on you since you both started to make out in the lushious Pandoran greens.

You’d been such a brat. Such a fucking bitch, with your human lips, pouring endless words of nonsense. Such a tawtute manner, he thinks bitterly, though he couldn’t contain how much he loved this about you. And this was one of the reasons he fell in love with you. Your vivid mind never ceased to impress himself, as he always believed humans had a weak and poor thinking brain. But this was not true for you. You were able of so much introspection and impressive deductions that you couldn't stop yourself from talking during the whole day, yet with wisdom. You had this way of speaking every thought. As beautiful as it was, it could seriously piss him off after a long day amongst the clan warriors. And today was one of these, were the strenght of his nerves weren't enough to mirror your sense of verbal connection, but just enough to pound the attitude out of you.

Sky Demon oh so delicate and gracious, that it was able to break the stiff wall of his long lasting beliefs. Sky Demon, oh so pure hearted, made him fucking feel what love was and felt the ground crumble under his feet since the day he met you. Sky Demon, oh so sincere and kind, able to knock the most harsh feelings he always felt towards any of your kind out of his lungs. And Sky Demon, so unbelievably true to herself, made him drool at the curious idea of how such a being could ressemble to one of his kind. You truly were the person proving him wrong on the fact that it wasn't your source, your race nor your home that should make you an enemy. But it was the hearts of those rejecting Eywas truth that had to be feared and chased.

As you were learning him to see the world through a different way and less darkened eyes without changing his aspects. He himself, showed you how much you deserved to be loved, even how far down you fell and how unalive you used to feel. Originally from earth, you arrived on Pandora by the mission to seek out new ways of life. Finding a way to save humanity without any harm. You then were attributed to your own avatar. Everything was fine until, the higher people, controlling the plan, lost their mind and you decided to flee into the forest and then you met So’lek. Luckily you had found a way to transfer your soul for good in your blue grand form and said goodbye to your human form without any regret, as you never felt any glimmer living this life of human roots. This amplified by the days you had the chance to live amongst them, as the tsahik saw something true and pure in your soul.

Back on earth, the world is destroyed and getting the chance to leave for Pandora, was like the four petal clove found in the endless pain field. A gift from the universe you never awaited and in distress needed. You smile everyday at this chaotic story and at how it somehow worked and shaped into the most beautiful story to share, with quite the amusing anecdotes. Like you loved to and it was utmost crazy to see that maybe yes. The universe always had a plan for you, by the way such uncompatible puzzle pieces still locked into place together. Or by the way two completely different souls managed to pull together easely. In the end, the only language is still love. And it will be the hymn of the universe forever.

His warm calloused and soothing palms craddle the little fat of your legs, calming your racing heart as he tries to penetrate deeper and deeper into your intimate warmth. Your labias spread evenly as his dick slides in you with difficulty. You two weren't having intercourses for long so it was only normal as you in addition were very tight to begin with. You're so damn tight, he thinks. But he regrets his thoughts, feeling how good your walls kiss the skin of his member. So tight, that he could even feel the rythmic beat of his heart down there. Deep pulse gaining speed with each second passed and as the most carnal needs grow. He sighs erotically, stopping his way inside for a second and taking his time admiring you. Everything in you radiates light and Love and he now couldn't even dare to imagine living without you. When he first met you, he had this irrepressible urge to cut of off your devil hands. Five fingers, the art of destruction, but today as knowing who you were inside, he only wants them to be feeled on evey inch of his skin.

Reaching down to hold one of your hands up, he put your small finger into his hot mouth, sucking on it hard while humming unintelligible sounds. Praising this part of you today was something important. Maybe was it out of guilt, but it wasn't something to ignore at how it just fueled desire powerfully by just a small actions as simple as this. The way it delivered trust and love around the air, was a drunk dizzying feeling. But you both loved to feel succumbed under such circumstances.

You look up in awe, squirming at his bold chest glistening with sweat and at the way his pecs contract with each fast inhale. As you move you can feel the resistance in your core, jolting at the way it sends electricity to your heart and you mewl at the way his warm tongue swirls around your slender petite finger. The rough surface of his tongue momentarely stops as you clench down on him, only to fully decontract yourself and finally letting his way easely in. Exactly how he planned to. You were so putty under his touch and he loved this. Loved to feel so masculine and viril in such a tender and yet feminine moment.

You moan, body wriggling at the size of his member resuming his ascencion down your belly, slowly forming a bulge without struggle. Given his posture, it's never been strange that he'd come away with such a large, long size and length. But as always, theory surpasses reality. And right now, it's the practitioner who's got the upper hand. An expert in the art, So’lek revels in your face as it contracts in innocent pleasure, and despite your pain, the oh so delectable stretch of his greatness evokes a sensation of intense well-being.

His voice breaks the silence only punctuated by heavy breaths. Pronounced accent and long vocal chords, and so on low growl, expressing their intention.

Look at you.... My beautiful Tawtute~ So ready and wet for me... He breathes in emotion with a smile while whispering just below your ear, his hot breath fanning over your sweet spot, before lapping at it like a starving man. You shiver, cold spikes travelling down your spine in an addicting way. Mouth long release of its favorite finger, he still caresses it with his own and pins it down just over your head, vanishing into the dark chocolate hair of yours splayed into the humid ground into a captivating canvas.

He enters slowly, letting your body adjust bit by bit. The vein of his dick slides through the membrane of your throbbing hole until it is stopped by the bump of your cervix. You moan in unison, ragged breaths escaping your luscious lips, coated with a thin film of saliva. Your eyes roll back into your skull, your mouth falling open as he maintains a steady rhythm. So'lek slides out of you, then gently in, testing the waters again and again. But as soon as your walls get wetter and the desired slick accumulates at the base of his stiffness, he begins a merciless rhythm that frees never heard harsh sounds from your mouth, vibrating on your tongue rarely, with each thrusts.

He lifts your hips, embracing the bulge of your bottom, and the new angle forces a long, desperate whimper out of him. The whole scene would have been obscene, between the dry tumults of his pubic bone slapping the soft down of your pussy and the grumbles escaping So’leks throat, it’s more than a mystery. Only you can bring him to do that. Be so free of his emotional restrains and that's what makes this moment so profound. And this is exactly what makes him angry too. Fortunately, you're hidden in a rocky alcove near a river that blocks out any auditory vibrations. And the headwaters of the waterfall muffle the voluminous muses of your companion, lost in an almost animal trance.

Your arms are now limp, framing your lulling face, enamoured with an expression of aggressively delicious pleasure. Your cheeks blaze with a new colour, a bright red, growing in intensity as the knot in the pit of your stomach becomes more and more oh so fucking good tensed. Noxiously more.

So’lek rises to his knees, lifting his bottom up, this new position much more within reach of an intoxicating act. Sinking deeper into the sweet warmth that has become a necessity at this stage of your shared passions, you can feel your body bounce with each stroke. Only your bobbing shoulder blades are connected to the sacred humid soil. Only witness next to the curious lifting leaves.

This goes on for minutes until the familiar sensation of orgasm approaches. Your face contorts in shock, letting out a melodious gasp as it arrives, and in a desperate gesture you reach out your arms, searching in vain for something to cling on, your eyes closed. Your upper limbs fall back onto the sumptuous floral carpet with a flat thud, convulsing with pleasure as the overstimulated nerves finally relax with a well-placed dip. Your first orgasm is like a firework exploding on your erect bud. Your second cuts you off from all air, arriving like an uncontrolled tsunami, and the last. Oh, the last one. You see it coming, but as it shoots its first gusts into the centre, it develops into a veritable firestorm. Burns your being up to the depths of your core, embrace you to the tips of your toes.

You see white as the last exhilarating breeze fades and you whine at the overstimulation. So’lek is still chasing his climax, frustrating shouts echoing off the stone walls that clatter in the suffocating atmosphere. All his muscles tense, his cock throbs and his balls contract unbelievably close to his crotch. He gives it all until the pulsation of his member points its knowing pump and in one last stroke he glues your two pelvises flush together and empties his seed directly into your womb, staying there.

You both semi-giggle in a transe, lost in your sensations. You feel his warm seed fill you to the brim, finally able to take a complete breath, whilst he lets his head fall down, groaning at the amazing way to claim you, that his to fuck you dumb until his cum paints your leaking walls.

Missions accomplished. You are exhausted, eyes fluttering in a way to try and keep them open. Long lashes shadowing the little of sight you are able to get. Wanting to watch the beauty of this man after he'd use you and worshipped you whole. Soul to Mind, to Body, to Spirit, to every inch of Life living inside of you. This always leads him in a charming sweet way to be and there is no way you'd miss it. To bad, turns out he fucked you too good. Now you can't even open your eyes the way you should...

You awake the second he pulls out though and exhale an annnoyed complain. He chuckles as he heavily lays down next to you, wrapping his big arms around your sweating body, trailing them along your curves and enjoying the after care time. So’lek loves to relish in the smell and sensitive skin of yours. Damp and buttery from the effort, your scent is stronger making the world around him satisfyingly disappear even more.

You sigh, happy to have him near you for once. It isn't often you get the time to succumb to your wants and it feels good when you can. You nuzzle your cheek against his, shiny orbs waiting for his owns to connect with. And when they do, your heart swells with love. So’lek can be seemed as a brute and careless man for the simple by walkers, as he is very dominant looking. But in truth he's the teddiest of all Teddy Bears. He smiles, showing off his sharp fangs, and cups your jaw with attention.

He prepars to lean in and kiss you, but the movement of your lips stop him. Look at you... My beautiful Na’vi~ You reflect his previous words with playfulness, ears flicking and fluttering. So ready and wet for me... You joke by reusing his words, looking down at his blue and oh so tempting lips. With a groan, he looks up unimpressed. You just can't stop youself and talk nonsense, do you, he thinks. He smiles at the thought, though he would never admit, that it is you, with you never ending blabber, that got him out of solitude.

You let him lean in and as he devours your mouth again, holding your neck, he lingers there until both of you are out of air for a second time.

Now. If you want to be this bratty again... He pauses and grins. What if I show the consequences of it? Again~

You cup his growing naked bulge and smirk. He gasps, amazed at how you caught his words and the implying behind them so rapidly.

Oh... I would love to. My beloved Teddy Bear~

©️ FlorasVenus

[hanafubukki]

Summary: “Marry me Lilia Vanrouge! I’ll make you the happiest fae in the world.”

You and Lilia walked through Malleus’ garden. The roses were in peak bloom, making the scenery perfect for a stroll.

The floral scents in the air calmed your racing heart…somewhat.

It’s not as if you were nervous being around Lilia, you dated him for many years now.

It’s more…what you planned to do that made you nervous.

“You seem nervous, my dear.”

“I’m not nervous…just overthinking.”

Lilia hummed. Knowing him, he probably knew something was up but chose to let you come to him in your own time.

You love him.

It was a fact.

Looking at him, amongst the roses. His gaze fond as he took in the nearby flowers. The scenery framing him exquisitely as if he is a work of art that belongs to a museum.

You couldn’t keep your next words in even if you tried.

“Marry me Lilia Vanrouge! I’ll make you the happiest fae in the world.”

Lilia stilled, looking at you in surprise.

You wanted to clam up, but for some reason your mouth didn’t listen to your brain.

“W-well, I’ll make you the happiest fae in the world in the romantic sense! I mean, your sons and Sebek already make you happy in the platonic sense…what am I saying? Why am I saying-”

Lilia burst out in laughter. Your mouth decided to stop sprouting words at the beautiful sound.

You started walking away, feeling shy and embarrassed.

“You know what? Forget what I said. I’ll think of a better one. Oh Sebek is going to-”

A hand stopped you, you looked to see Lilia gazing at you with love that would last centuries.

“Yes.” Lilia pulled you closer to him, his forehead touching yours, “Yes, I will marry you.”

Hiding away from the recently engaged couple, three young men watched the scene with varying reactions.

Silver smiled at the scene before him before sighing at his fellow knight who’s yelling up a storm. Luckily, the barrier Lord Malleus made around them not only hid them, but deafened Sebek’s voice.

“You call that a proposal YN?! Did you learn nothing from the books we had read?! That proposal was the least romantic method you could have gone with!”

“Sebek, father agreed. YN’s proposal was a success.”

“That’s not the point!”

Malleus had a slight smirk on his face, enjoying the unexpected situations you always brought about before an unexpected thought came to mind.

“I wonder if we will hear the pitter patter of tiny feet soon.”

The shining eyes that faced Malleus conveyed how excited they were at such a prospect.

It has been a long time since such sounds were heard.

They all looked forward to it.

As was promised in my poll ☺️💞🫶, hope you enjoyed. 🌺🌸

The need to marry this fae increases ever day 🥹💞 I love him so much.

[total-dxmure]

✦ MARLEY AND ME →【ELLIE WILLIAMS】→ CHAPTER ONE

pairing: modern!ellie williams x single mom!reader 

summary: you’re a single mom just doing the best that she can to make ends meet. ellie can’t help but think that you're the kindest, most beautiful girl that she’s ever met. compared to taking care a little girl that's in her terrible twos, coming to terms with the fact that you’re a lesbian is a walk in the park. awkward first encounters, ellie’s broken gay-dar, and her overwhelming urge to take care of the care-giver. . . the road to domesticity is a long one, but it’s well worth the pining that it takes to get there. 

warnings: hella SMUT! in future chapters, eventual substance use, no use of y/n (you have nicknames/petnames), the reader is marley’s biological mother, talk of coming to terms with ones sexuality, mention of a shitty baby daddy ( though there is no co-parenting between them), ellie is a total girl mom, lots and lots of fluff, ellie is an anxious dork in this fic, reader is broke but happy, ellie takes pride in being a provider, this is going to be a multi-part fic, ellie is an absolute simp for the reader since chapter one and will remain her #1 fan. 

⬶ previous chapter | next chapter ⤅

Ellie counts the tiny bite sized pieces that you cut the pancakes into. You’re meticulous about it, taking your time despite the impatient look on the little girl’s face. She also notices the fact that all the woman has ordered for herself is a cup of coffee. No cream, just sugar and caffeine.

The auburn haired girl, from across the restaurant, is trying not to be too obvious about her staring. She’s trying to find any wrinkles on your face that might clue her in about your age, but she finds none. Ellie decides that you couldn’t be too much older than she is, and if you are, it was only by a few years.

She walks back up to your table, noting that you still haven’t called her back over to order any food for yourself. Every once in a while she’ll watch as you bring your fingers up to your plush lips to lick off syrup. She watches your mouth intently as you speak, noticing the endearing way your lips pull up at the corners. You smile when you talk, no matter what Ellie says to you. The waitress decides that she likes that. She likes that a lot.

“Are you sure you don’t want anything? The food here is really great, I promise.” Ellie offers, already reaching down into her black apron so that she can scribble something down.

Your smile falters, the slight switch of emotion not going unnoticed. The baby across the seat tries to say something, but the young waitress can’t make any sense of it. It just sounds like babble to her. You, however, understand what the little girl is saying right away. You must be able to speak the ancient language of “toddler”.

“Those aren’t flowers, baby. They’re ferns. Can you say ‘fern’?” Your tone shifts ever so slightly, your eyes dazzling with pride.

It’s the way that you look at the little girl sitting in the highchair that makes Ellie weak in the knees. She’s never been the biggest fan of kids, but the tiny butterfly clips that were fastened in her hair and her great, big eyes nearly has Ellie falling to her knees. In fact- she does. She crouches down and holds out her right arm, assuming that the baby was trying to point out something about her tattoo.

Warm, sticky little hands reach out and brush against her skin. Ellie’s lips are twitching up into a wide smile before she can school her features back into neutrality. You’re too busy admiring Ellie now that she’s practically in your lap to notice your daughter getting all grabby. You try to tell yourself that you feel for the woman since she’s showing your daughter affection, but her green eyes and freckled nose has your heart pounding harder than you deem as healthy.

Your daughter tries to sound out the word, and as quickly as your gaze had been snagged by the gorgeous girl in front of you, it was on your daughter just as fast. Your eyes widen, chest swelling with pride.

“That’s it, Marley! Say it again, baby.”

Ellie looks up at you from where she’s crouching, and suddenly her fitted black shirt feels a little too tight. She feels as though she might just burst right out of it, her chest expanding to make room for her swelling heart. This entire time she had thought that the little girl had to be your baby sister, what with your young looking face and the wrinkled band t-shirt you were sporting, but now she understood that the girl was your daughter.

Quickly the woman searched your finger for a ring, not wanting to be drooling over a married woman, but didn’t see one. Whatever guilt had just struck was gone in the blink of an eye, like a flash of lightning. Ellie was often teased by her friends and co-workers about her bad luck with women. Any girl that she’d ever had a crush on in the past was either straight, disinterested, or already seeing someone.

She’d be lying if she said that she had ever been in a proper relationship. Most of it was just short lived pining, immediately followed by devastating disappointment.

Ellie can’t help but wonder how it might feel to be on the receiving end of those beautiful, pride filled eyes of yours. They were beaming with admiration, so much so that Ellie could feel the warmth of it from where she stood. You were like the sun, and the pull towards you was gravitational.

The restaurant was dead, aside from you and a few regulars that she saw on a weekly basis. She didn’t feel as guilty as she should have for neglecting the other customers.

“How old is she?” You watched as the woman stood up, stretching her athletically built body from side to side, her muscles tired from a long day spent on her feet. She noted the way you watched her, filing it away somewhere in her brain so that she could go home and properly go through the “gay checklist” before she made a fool of herself by hitting on you.

“Two,” You replied with a smile. You completely melted as far as your daughter was concerned. “It’s almost like I blinked and all of a sudden she was up walking and talking. Right now we’re learning our colors and shapes.” You shrugged, picking the fork back up so that you could feed her another piece of pancake.

The little girl, that Ellie now knows is named Marley, eagerly opened her mouth.

Your daughter was the kind of little girl that could easily be plastered all over magazines. She looked like a doll. Really, if you were standing far enough away, you could mistake her for one. Babies were usually drooly faces and loud screams, but not Marley. No, she was a perfectly mannered and happy baby. With big doe eyes that matched yours and a wide, tiny toothed smile.

“Well you and your boyfriend must be proud. She’s gorgeous.” She knew it was normal, polite even, for people to gush over babies. She wasn’t lying for the sake of being nice though. Marley really was perfect.

Ellie instantly shut her mouth, so hard that her teeth audibly clacked together when she noticed the way that you winced.

She felt like shit about it, but a small stab of hope pierced clean through her heart. She was in college, and pining after a woman with a kid probably wasn’t something that she should busy herself with, but she couldn’t pull herself away from you. A simple “ready for the bill” would have sufficed as far as conversations went, but she wanted to know about you.

Because really, you were hands down the most beautiful girl that Ellie had ever seen. Your perfection didn’t stop there though. You were nice, and not just in a conversational sense. You were radiant in the way that you spoke to others. The second that you had sat down, you’d cracked a joke with the elderly man two tables down. You probably felt bad about him sitting all by himself. She’d seen you smile at every single one of her coworkers that had walked past you. You even seemed upset to bother her and ask Ellie if she could put your daughter’s juice in a cup with a lid. And here you were, talking to the waitress like you had known her for years.

No one, not even Joel, could fault Ellie for being dangerously attracted to you. Maybe it was the fact that you had such a nurturing aura about you, but Ellie couldn’t help but wonder how it would feel to take care of you. She could tell by the light bags under your eyes, which you had skillfully tried to cover up with makeup, that you were a hard worker. Here you were, at a restaurant with a wide selection to choose from, only ordering food for your daughter. You were what Joel would call “a keeper”.

The inevitable moment of parting was coming though. Marley had devoured most of her flapjack, save for a few small bites that you were currently feeding her. That and your coffee mug was nearly empty. Ellie silently cursed herself for not filling it back up a few minutes ago. Maybe, if she had, you would have felt obligated to stay for a second longer. She reached into her pocket, placing the bill onto the table and taking a small step back.

“Here’s this, for whenever you’re ready. No rush.” Ellie held her hands up, taking another step back.

Much to her embarrassment, her hip banged against the side of the table that had been directly behind her. The wooden chair that had been underneath it scrapped loudly against the checkerboard tile, causing a few heads to turn and look at her. And of course, knowing her luck, you had seen and heard it all.

‘Smooth, Ellie.’ She thought wryly to herself, the taste in her mouth going sour.

She could feel heat reaching all the way up to her ears, and right when she was about to turn on her converse-clad heel and hide somewhere in the storage room, you pointed past her.

“I think that table needs a beating. How rude of it to trip you up like that.” You said, your brows playfully knit together in faux anger.

She audibly let out a breath of relief, unable to keep her face from sporting a smile. “Oh, I’m definitely taking it outside the second you leave. Wouldn’t want to beat it senseless in front of a child.”

Ellie thought that she had died and gone to heaven when you laughed at her miserable joke. Your eyes squinted at the corners, head thrown back slightly as your shoulders shook. Everything about you was hideously adorable. It should be illegal, actually.

“How courteous of you.” You teased, propping an elbow on the table so that you could rest your cheek against your hand. The look in your eyes screamed “play with me more”, and it took everything inside of Ellie not to back up into the table a second time.

Were you flirting with her? No. . . no way. You had a baby, which meant that a man had been involved at some point. Sure, lesbian couples had children all the time, but in most cases it was a long and arduous process. That and it was usually horrifically expensive. She couldn’t see you coughing up tens of thousands of dollars to conceive a child. Not when you were practically a child yourself.

“Well, you aren’t the first person to call me that.” Ellie decided to keep the teasing light hearted.

Ellie wasn’t exactly. . . subtle about the fact that she was gay. If the forearm tattoo of ferns and a moth wasn’t enough to clue people in, then her way of dress, posture, and demeanor surely tipped them in the right direction. You couldn’t think that you were play-flirting with a straight girl, that was for sure.

“Courteous? You? Who the hell told you that?” Her friend teased as he breezed past the both of you, a drink in either hand for the table in the far back.

Ellie clenched her teeth, turning her head so that she could give him a look. Jesse loved to publicly embarrass her it would seem. Not that she exactly needed someone to do that for her, not when she did it on the regular herself.

“Joel.” She snapped back, listing off the first person that came to mind. She instantly regretted it though, because Jesse only snickered as his reply. Did he really have to poke fun at her while she was talking to a girl? Knowing him and his antics he was probably doing it on purpose. 

Ellie was left to fiddle her fingers, hoping that she could somehow recover for a second time within the span of a minute. God, she was totally blowing. . . whatever was happening between the two of you.

“Is Joel your boyfriend. . . ?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

You didn’t look all that disappointed when you asked. It just seemed like you were trying to keep the conversation going for a little longer. Still, Ellie’s freckled nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Ew.” She said simply, her mouth moving before she had the time to really think about how to properly answer. She wasn’t exactly a people person, and she quickly paled as she realized that she might have come off as rude. She fumbled, holding both of her hands up, a stuttering mess as she wracked her brain for the right words to say.

Once again though, she didn’t seem to need saving. You were laughing at her instantaneous reaction, finding humor in her awkwardness.

You found her endearing. Genuine people were few and far in between, and Ellie seemed to be one in a million. You could tell that she was the type of person that didn’t sugar coat things; she called em’ as she saw em’.

“Okay, okay,” You said through giggles, shaking your head. “So he isn’t your boyfriend.”

“Not at all. Joel is. . . well- he’s Joel. I was in foster care for a while, but he adopted me when I was fourteen.” This conversation was always a mood killer. Once the ‘O’ bomb was dropped, people often treated her differently. They danced around like they were standing on eggshells and looked at her like she was something to be pitied. Yeah, she had been an orphan, but she hadn’t had the opportunity to meet either of her parents. There was no one to miss. She had Joel, and she felt like that was all she ever really needed.

It was just her and Joel. That was her normal, and it was more than enough for her. Though. . . she’d probably die if she admitted that out loud to him. His brain would probably explode if she got all sappy around him, anyway.

“Well he sounds great then. Fourteen is a tough age- I bet you were super angsty.”

Ellie should have known that you’d be different. There was no “I’m sorry’s” or the awkward “dead parent” conversation.

“Oh, I was the worst.” Ellie agreed, a smile lighting up her features when she made you laugh for a third time. God, she must be on a roll.

“Well, here’s this,” You placed a twenty dollar bill on top of the ten dollar check. “You can keep the rest. I’ve been chatting your head off. I feel kinda bad.” You admitted, grabbing your purse and the small backpack that seemed to be packed to the brim with a child’s necessities.

Ellie could feel her palms beginning to sweat, so she nervously wiped them on the thighs of her black, well worn jeans. Should she ask for your number? Or would you see that as her shamelessly hitting on you and act weird?

Being gay, especially in a place like Jackson, was tough. Every female that she tried to make friends with got weird after she asked for their contact information, and men often saw her as some sort of accessory. As if hanging around her would make them look more non judgemental. That and the fact that males automatically assumed that she held all of the unshared, age-old mysteries of girlhood, and that she would divulge all of them.

“Hey-” Before she could even ask though, you had already opened your mouth.

“Do you mind if I asked for your phone number? Or if you feel more comfortable, I can get your instagra-”

“Phone number is great.” She breathed quickly, pulling out a piece of paper and a pen from her apron so that she could hand them over to you.

She would have just given you her number, but she was scared that she might never hear from you again. This way, she could be the person that built up the courage to call first. And she would. . . after a glass of whiskey. . . or a few hits from her bong.

You smiled warmly up at her, scribbling down your number as well as your name before folding it up into a square so that she could shove it into her back pocket.

“Have a good day. Don’t forget to text me, alright?” You shot her one last smile before picking your daughter up out of her highchair and placing her down on the ground. The little girl’s tiny shoes slapped against the floor as she walked quickly beside you, your hand already reaching down to grab a tight hold of her small palm.

You were almost out the door, the bell chiming as it swung open, when Ellie shuffled awkwardly.

“Drive safe!” She called out while she knew that you could still hear her.

You shot her one more megawatt smile before disappearing from view.  

“Drive safe.” Jesse imitated her voice from behind her, his arms crossed over his chest as he smirked down at the petite female.

“Do me a favor? Shut the fuck up.” Ellie gave his arm a light punch before walking back into the kitchen, praying that none of the cooks would give her a hard time about her very obviously flushed face.

why not to buy tlou2 remastered (please read).

[htchnr]

★ thrill of the hunt ❥ A. HOTCHNER.

➻❥ masterlist. ➻❥ patreon. ➻❥ kinktober masterlist.

🎃 KINKTOBER PROMPT ➥ hunting kink + unsub!hotch.

CW ➥ outdoor sex ⋆ unprotected sex ⋆ piv sex ⋆ semi public sex ⋆ creampie ⋆ slight knifeplay ⋆ if i missed anything, lmk!

WC ➥ 1,8k. SONG ➥ tear you apart , she wants revenge.

SUMMARY ➥ he’s restless. he hasn’t been on a hunt in a while, in fact, since you’ve been together. you’ve never told him to stop, but you can sense he doesn’t want you to see that side of him, coming home late at night covered in blood that isn’t his. so you help him in your own way.

★ - © 2023 HTCHNR. do not copy, share or translate my work to this platform, or any other! - ★

he’s restless. he hasn’t been on a hunt in a while, in fact, since you’ve been together. you’ve never told him to stop, but you can sense he doesn’t want you to see that side of him, coming home late at night covered in blood that isn’t his. the novelty of domestic life suits him, he likes cuddling with you, lazy mornings.

tonight though, you watch his side profile as he reads, watch his eyes flick over the same page several times, unseeing. he fidgets his knee up and down and slides his hand over his jaw, tapping a finger against his top lip. he’s so handsome, warm looking, alluring, and you realize with a rush that goes from your head to your cunt that you want him.

“hey.” you say, breaking the taut silence of the room, he looks up from his book, blue eyes focussed on yours. “i want us to play a game.” he stares at you while you explain your idea, smirking first with amused adoration, then slightly patronizing as he tilts his head.

“hide and seek? with me that wouldn’t be much of a game honey.”

“no.” shaking your head you stand and stretch your limbs, reveling in the way his dark eyes track your movements.

“i want you to hunt me.”

he pauses, thinking it through for a second. “since you interrupted my reading you better run extra fast.” he almost growls then, his usually sweet eyes gone impossibly dark.

“get to running sweetheart.” his voice low and threatening almost.

“fuck fuck fuck” you mutter out loud, almost forgetting that the whole point of the game is for him to find you. suddenly it feels very real. after all, he’s a killer, using both stealth and skill. one girl is nothing to him, a speck of dirt that is easily rubbed out.

reminding yourself that this man loves you and would never kill you doesn’t stop the pounding in your heart as you pause at a fallen tree, wondering if you can fit inside. you realize the game is exciting you just as much, even though you’ve done this for him, to help his boredom, you feel simultaneously afraid and aroused— it’s confusing as hell.

when people hide on tv or in films it’s never so messy. you cringe as dirt slides over your skin from the tree, matted leaves catch in your hair and your legs are awkwardly twisted. still, you’re inside the rotted trunk, and you’re hidden, at least to regular human eyes. you don’t have to lay still for long before you hear him coming. he’s not attempting to be quiet, but is humming under his breath, almost taunting you.

“i’m coming to get you sweetheart..” he sing-songs and you bite your lip not to whimper.

his footsteps pause, and you imagine him, scanning the trees for any sign of you. the urge to see him in his hunter pose is too much and you peek out through a crack in the tree trunk, you can’t resist a look, even if it costs you the game. he stood, the darkness of the night swallowing him along with the darkness of the forest.

his attitude has changed, and he looks nothing like the soft, charming man you’re used to seeing everyday. his shoulders are tight, his hands twitching by his sides— his left hand hovering above his knife that sits in it’s sheath. he’s grinning, his eyes are two black focused orbs, sweeping the scene.

it is amazing to see him like this, and as he moves towards you in one smooth, animalistic movement fear combines with desire, licking up the bottom of your spine. almost ripping the tree apart he unearths you, pulling you out from your hiding place, his hands under your armpits, lifting you as if you’re a child, or a rag doll— the ice cold blade of the knife pressed against your throat.

“i told you to run” he murmurs, the look in his eyes is dangerous, his chest is heaving with panting breaths, his voice is rough and low and betrays his arousal even if you couldn’t see the outline of his cock pressing hard against the fly of his jeans.

“i did” you whimper as he glares and bends his head to kiss you unrelentingly, nipping your bottom lip viciously.

“not far enough, not fast enough.”

“i tried Aaron, let me up…” you struggle intentionally weak against him and he holds you easily with a snide look in his eyes.

“i won the game.. i should get my prize.”

“your prize? oh… “ you words dissolve into a shameless moan as he simultaneously bites your neck and the cold knife tears through your shirt, his rough hands groping your breasts and pinching your nipples. You moan as you move your fingers to his zipper, yanking it down and pull his aching cock out, hot and throbbing against your palm as you stroke him. his mouth falls open as he lets out a strained breath, moving his larger hand on top of yours to force you to speed up your strokes. he seems to want it rough, and you feel exactly the same way.

his hands hold you easily, cupping your spine as he shoves you down on a patch of dry leaves. he crawls on top of you, his hips jerking a little as if of their own accord. “put your hands above your head.” he commands with a raspy voice and you nod, following the direction, twisting them together as if bound, and looking up at him imploringly.

pinning you with a glare he kisses you again moving his hand inside your underwear— swearing when he finds you soaking, pushing two fingers inside you desperate to feel your heat, before he regains control of himself and moves them teasingly in and out, never quite hard or deep enough. “i see.. you like this, you like the chase?” he asks. you moan pathetically, eyes rolling back.

“i like being caught.” you pant, trying to grind down against his hand hard enough to get yourself off.

“turn over.” he groans. “if you like being hunted like an animal i’m going to fuck you like one.”

thrilled, you scramble on all fours, glad to be off the hard ground— you wonder somewhere in the back of your mind if he’s doing this for your comfort. he hovers over you and you hear the clink of metal as he undoes his belt, the sound sending an unexpected bolt of arousal through you, he pulls back on your hips so your ass is cushioned against him and pushes inside you with one smooth stroke, not waiting to let you adjust before starting to move. you cry out as he sinks in and out over and over.

you clench your eyes shut as you shamelessly moan. he grins darkly, moving his fingers between your legs and rubbing your clit as he plows deeper inside you. you scramble for something to hold but he just holds you, fucking into you and you have no choice just to let him bounce you on his cock, let him touch you until you feel as if you were about to explode.

“Aaron! fuck.. please..” you plead, not even sure what you’re begging for as he slides one hand up your throat, pressing the cold blade flat against the hot skin of your throat. your thighs pressing together make you feel even tighter to him, and the sounds leaving his lips against your ear, the filth spilling from his usually smooth and composed self even during sex gives you a clue he’s just as lost as you are.

“scream all you want, no one can hear you out here.." he mutters in your ear. His lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he urges you towards your climax both with his filthy words and the never ending stroke of his fingers against your sensitive bundle of nerves. bucking back against him you let yourself go, clenching around him and riding out the pleasure as you cry out, tears trickling down your cheeks. he holds you as you fall apart, pausing just to revel in the sensations before he picks up his brutal pace again, the knife being thrown down into the dirt as his arm reaches around your throat, resting against your shoulders.

he thrusts a few more times, his balls slapping against your cunt so deliciously as he finally comes inside you with a loud guttural moan, his warm cum painting your walls as he fucks it into you.

He pulls out, his sticky cum pouring out of your abused hole— dropping onto the leaves with obscene splats. he hovers above you on the forest floor for a few moments before he comes back to himself, realizing you’re both outside at night on damp leaves amongst bugs and god knows what else. he let’s out a shuddered groan as pulls you up. your knees shake shamefully and you lean into his solid side with a grateful sigh.

he helps you back to the house, shoving you in front of the fireplace, not speaking while he fusses round you, washing the dirt off your face with a warm washcloth, picking the leaves out of your hair and frowning at the scratches on your arms as if they personally offended him.

“i’m okay..” you reassure him, your eyes heavy with post-sex bliss. you wonder how you can convince him that you enjoyed the game and that you are not so breakable as he thinks. he knows you well though, and as he lifts you up to bed and pulls you on top of him, your head resting on his hot chest. he nips at your ear, sending a wave of lust through your exhausted body.

“we are definitely doing that again..” squealing quietly with glee you hug him tighter to you and slowly fall asleep, happy knowing you have a man who is willing to take such good care of you, but also fuck you into the ground with a knife against your throat if you ask for it.

TAGLIST ➥ @toastbrot8410 @mrs-ssa-hotch @fictionallifestuff @weirdothatwritess @crystalflwr @stella95827 @taintedstranger @mija-novella @gffesegjoiegj @bubbly-parker @mediocremalachor15 @goldenangelwingsandcandy @0nex-is-dead0 @2hiigh2cry @the-1n0nly @hotchsdharma @tgskitten @crystlroses @notforeverlong @emmeilyy @whatisthereality

[aquarelliwrites]

All Caught Up

SHIP: Max Verstappen x driver!Reader PROMPT: “I got you three gifts for Christmas. Since I wasn’t there for Valentine’s Day or your birthday-” “We weren’t even dating then!” CONTENT WARNINGS: slight alcohol consumption in the last scene, she/her pronouns, no use of y/n

3.1k

You sigh, the door shutting behind you with a soft click. Another one, and it locks. The keys get tossed unceremoniously into the decorative tray right next to the entrance, and your shoes get toed off soon after that. 

What a way to spend Valentine’s Day, huh? A transcontinental flight from Nice to Luton of all places, then waiting around for nearly an hour for your luggage to find itself on the revolving conveyor belt in front of you. Then, as if the universe itself had it out for you, the thin metal frame holding your umbrella together twists out of shape under the onslaught of wind - leaving you fuming in the cold rain for 45 minutes before your Uber arrives. The guy is apologetic, of course, and the traffic isn’t his fault, so you try your best to smile and reassure him it’s alright. Following that, you spend the half-hour drive to Milton Keynes attempting to warm up even slightly in your soaked coat.

Really, that whole monologue was a long way of saying the pre-RB20-launch meeting was cold, rainy and miserable in many ways. There were a couple of positive sides to it, though, you think as you unpack your bag in the hallway - your coworkers, both the ones who’d stay in the factory and who’d join you in the paddock, were all delightful and friendly, congratulating you on the promotion. The car itself looked fantastic - all smooth carbon fiber wrapped around the innards of the car like a silk sheet, covered in sponsor logos, sharp nose already pointing to another successful season for the team. 

And Max. He was… also there.

The dark and lonely flat seems to mock you at the very thought.

Well, no, that’s a rude way of putting it. Your most famous coworker was as kind as anyone else you’d met before and during that day. You’d already met before, when you became a reserve driver for the team the year before. Your first meeting face to face was nothing but pleasant, and you quickly found you both had a similar sense of humor.

You’re half-worried the kettle won't work after several months of abandonment. It turns on on the first try. You breathe a sigh of relief.

The problem arose in the fact that this grayscale day around you was eclipsed by his presence - as if he was the only object in full Technicolor - as soon as you’d noticed him. His smile was downright infectious, for one, and you honestly could have sworn your hand trembled when you clasped his in greeting.

“Hi, it’s great to meet you again.” He lit up the room with that smile, at least in your eyes. “Christian and the team have only sung your praises for the past few days.”

A softer sigh escapes you when you remember it, and your response: “Oh really? That’s good to hear - they haven’t exposed my worst secrets to you yet.”

“Your worst secrets?” He looked confused while you were busy taking off your coat.

“Yeah, you know,” you grinned, “that I’m secretly a terrible driver who has autopilot installed on her car, or that I’m awfully annoying. So they don’t scare you off, you know?”

To you, his laugh sounded like silver bells, and spring awakening in your chest, and a golden spark blooming into fireworks inside you, and every cliche thing you’ve ever read about in books. You had heard it in recorded interviews and distantly at parties you both got invited to, obviously, but the attraction fully hit you now that you were standing face to face.

Oh, attraction. That’s what it was. You hum and sit down on the couch, your teacup still scalding your fingertips. It's quiet everywhere but your thoughts. Actually, no, if you strain very hard, you might hear your downstairs neighbor's TV.

You couldn’t even fathom how headlines nicknamed him the rain of this cursed place, having spent half the meeting subtly glancing his way, and the other half trying to think of ways to look at him that weren’t… how should you put it? Outright creepy?

Hours later, you both stood in the car park under his umbrella - he’d insisted, and you really couldn’t bring yourself to say no. 

“What a Valentine’s Day, huh?” You chuckled, warming your hands in your pockets. He looked towards you - fuck, his eyes were beautiful - and shrugged.

“Never was a fan, really.”

“Me neither. I’ve never had anyone stick around long enough to celebrate properly.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Any plans, then?”

“Not really. They set me up with a flat here back in December, so I’m just heading there for the night. Might get real freaky and order pizza, or something crazy like that.”

“Ooh, don’t go too wild.” He chuckled, and you joined heartily.

The LED headlights of your Uber bathed you both in white light, and you stepped out from under the umbrella. “Thanks for everything, Max. I’m looking forward to this season.”

“Yeah, no problem.” The pitter-patter of raindrops against concrete nearly drowned out his reply as you walked towards the car. He lingered for a moment, gazing at your retreating silhouette through the sheets of rain before unlocking his own car and leaving the car park empty of people once more.

You’re content to stare out of the window now, watching the raindrops race down the glass. The launch is tomorrow, and they'll announce you as the second Red Bull Racing driver. The world will either accept it, or be forced to deal with you for a year.

Truly? Honestly? You're just looking forward to becoming friends with Max.

It is barely 9 in the morning, but the late-July sun is dead-set on giving you a headache today, apparently.

The automated gates at the paddock entrance let you through, and a couple of photographers spot you from a short distance, snapping photos immediately. You grin joyfully, throwing up a peace sign at them before checking your watch.

You have time to make a detour.

The fans at the barrier buzz with excitement when you approach them, and you find yourself in an easy conversation with the front-most ones. It’s nice to hear people are fans of you sometimes, so what?

A girl thanks you profusely for signing her poster, and extends a pink friendship bracelet towards you. “Oh, here’s a birthday gift!”

“Aw, I love it, thank you! Do we match?” You smile, tightening it around your left wrist, right below your watch. The girl simply responds by showing her own wrist - indeed, she has a matching one.

The short detour takes longer than expected, and shortly, one of the  social media girls comes to find you. “You’re all great, thanks for coming to free practice!” You wave goodbye and jog to catch up to your coworker.

Your side of the garage is experiencing an unusual amount of activity, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s happening - the people weren’t too subtle with their cameras either.

“She’s here, she’s here!” Someone yells, and you’re ushered into the middle of the crowd to stand in front of Anthea, your race engineer. Who is, shockingly, holding a cake.

“Happy birthday!!” The crowd roars, and you spot a bunch of the drivers hanging around as well - not that it isn’t obvious, what with the colorful fireproofs in a sea of navy polos. Charles and Pierre are standing somewhere in the middle of the crowd, Carlos and Lando in the back (granted, talking animatedly with each other as soon as the congratulating was over), Oscar and Logan to your left, close by. Max, of course, right next to Anthea.

The cake itself is Red Bull blue and checkered black-and-white on the top, a small model of your car right on top, surrounded by 22 lit candles.

In that instant, you feel indescribably loved. And it's a beautiful, sparkling feeling.

Are those tears rolling down your cheeks? Oh no, they are. And you worked so hard on your eyeliner today - you feel Oscar and Logan each put an arm around your shoulders as you wipe the skin under your eyes dry. 

“Happy birthday, dude. You’re finally old enough for preschool.” You yelp when Oscar ruffles your hair lovingly and swat at his hand.

“No, Osc, come on!” You laugh through tears, fixing your hair hurriedly. “Who organized this?”

Anthea grins at you, and Max suddenly looks extremely invested in the concrete floor underneath Logan’s feet. “Max suggested it, I think he was the only one who knew about it? Other than, like, Horner and the people who did your paperwork.”

A soft blush appears on your face, though you feel it burning your cheeks and ears to high heaven. Or at least that’s what it feels like - maybe it doesn’t look so bad to everyone around you. “You guys are the best, seriously. Thank you, Max, and everyone for making it happen.”

“Yeah, yeah, you big sap. Blow out the candles already.” Logan pipes up, and the entire garage chuckles. You roll your eyes in mock annoyance, but lean forward with a silent wish in mind, and blow them out in one breath.

Afterwards, you vaguely remember Oscar trying to shove your face into the cake when the candles and car were taken off - and failing - but the minutes after were so chaotic that it felt like one moment you were standing there, hugging your best friends, and the next you’re sat atop a countertop with Max, both attacking the chocolate cake with vigor. 

“Oh my God, this is so good,” you practically moan, your mouth full. “Is this Belgian chocolate?”

Max is swinging his legs, hitting your right calf rhythmically with his foot. “Yeah, I think so. I’d be disappointed if it wasn’t.”

“Me, too,” you nod, licking off the ganache stuck to your fork. “Hopefully practice won’t be a complete tragedy today.”

“It’ll be good. The data shows it,” he says, completely sure of himself, before hurriedly adding, “I think. I- well, I know. Anthea told me.”

“Good, then. It’ll just be my shit driving that will put me in the wall then.” You nudge his shoulder with yours, but his core strength is greater than you expect and, alas, he doesn’t even move. For a moment, you kind of want to stay stuck to him, leeching off his body heat.

However, it is July, and you are just friends.

He nudges you back - more like shoves, you nearly go flying - and clicks his tongue. “You always say that, but it only happened in Canada. And it wasn’t even your fault.”

You blush, again. Annoyingly. Were you overthinking, or was he keeping track of your results during the season?

“And you’ve already got three podiums. It’s great for a rookie.”

He was definitely keeping track.

You lower your head, smiling. “Thanks, Max. Seriously. For the surprise and the support you’ve given me - it means so, so much.”

“It’s really no problem. I think you’re very talented.”

“I can’t believe you knew when my birthday was,” you pipe up when he takes a breath in between monologues.

It’s evening now, and the late July sun is streaming golden light through the window of Max’ room at the Belgium Grand Prix paddock. You’re standing in the doorway, chewing on your drinking straw absentmindedly while he talks about the data gathered in FP1 and FP2 - as if you weren’t in the debrief together. Or, you know, as if you don't drive the same car. It’s a habit of his that many could find annoying and is nothing but endearing to you.

He looks a bit taken aback, but after a moment simply says “I can’t believe no one’s ever celebrated it with you like this.”

You shrug. “People don’t really stick around enough. Or, most of the time, my friends and family were too far away to make plans,” is your reply. “You know how it is - moving to Monaco as soon as you can and leaving everyone behind.”

“It’s a shame, though.” He’s studying your face now, and you feel some emotion between ‘uncomfortable’ and ‘flustered’ when you notice how he’s checking you out. Or maybe he isn’t?

“It is, but so what?” 

“You deserve to celebrate your birthday properly.” He says it so matter-of-factly, like it’s a no-brainer. Which it may be - you’ve had birthdays, and they were great, but they seem like such a long-lost part of your childhood that it takes you a moment to remember when you last held a party.

“I did. Just- well, just not with other people.” You did. Really. You took yourself out to breakfasts and treated yourself to flowers and books and new shoes, occasionally. It’s just that you did it alone most of the time.

“Would you be opposed to celebrating with other people?” Why does he look like he has something planned?

“...Do you have something planned?”

“No, but we could go hang out. Grab dinner somewhere, and a drink after, maybe?” 

It’s a casual request, and you feel inclined to accept. Maybe you’re a bit brave, or a bit stupid, or just a bit head-over-heels when you laugh softly and nod. “Sure, what is this? A date?”

Now he’s the one who looks flustered. “Uh… sure. If you want it to be one.” 

“Sure.” You’re smiling again, and when he moves on to his next talking point, you’re more than happy to keep chewing on your straw and listening.

Ripping open the wrapping paper to reveal a plain cardboard box, you send the camera guy in front of you a worried glance.

It’s a lovely, warm November morning in Abu Dhabi, and the Secret Santa event is wrapping up. You had gotten Logan - who was practically too easy to shop for - but now it’s your turn to open your present, and you’re nervous.

“Hopefully it won’t explode?” You joke, then run your nail under the piece of tape holding the box closed. When you manage to get it open, your lips curl upwards into a bright smile.

The box is full to the brim without any of the items cluttering together - whoever packed this had to have put immense care into it. You spot a pair of fuzzy socks, candles, bath salts, a bottle of French wine, and many other small self-care items.

“Aww, this is so sweet- Oh, there’s no way.” You pull out the last thing, which is a copy of ‘The Book Thief’ by Markus Zusak. “This is my favorite book,” you tell the camera, having a sense of who this is from, “and I remember I was talking to Max the other day about how sad I was that I lost my copy on a flight a few months ago. We agreed to start a book club over winter break.” 

The media employees chuckle at the thought, and you join them. “More like, I made him. Yeah, this is from him.”

“It is.” The woman holding the microphone confirms.

They leave you sitting on the white couch on the terrace, a small smile still tugging at the corners of your lips while you read what he’d written on the inside cover:

‘Sorry I can’t hang out - my weekend is fully booked. How about Christmas at my place? - Max’

You roll your eyes and giggle. What an idiot.

Your idiot.

“Alright.” He starts when you both settle on the shaggy beige carpet in his living room. You’re both a bit buzzed - both having had screwdrivers for late Christmas breakfast, champagne on the balcony before lunch, red wine with the lunch itself, and now you’re nursing a mimosa while he finishes the champagne. Talk about day drinking.

“Alright. Presents, right? How do you want to, like… Should we alternate?” Your head tilts at the size of the pile of presents you definitely knew you didn’t bring.

“I was thinking we could go one by one, from the top, and just sort them by whose name is on it?” He suggests, legs stretching out in front of him. You smile when he playfully nudges your calf with his foot.

“Sounds good,” you nod, taking one last sip for the time being and leaving your glass on the coffee table.

Max reaches for the first present you got him - it’s wrapped in red and green with an obnoxiously large bow on the top - and is delighted when he sees that you’ve gotten him diecast models of his and your 2024 cars, different only in the numbers and the yellow T-cam on yours. He promises to keep them on his desk with a laugh, and hands you the next present.

Inexplicably, it’s wrapped in pink. With hearts all over it. And another obnoxiously large bow on top.

Wondering if he may secretly be colorblind (or unaware of Christmas traditions), you peer up at him with brows furrowed in confusion. Meanwhile, he’s handing you another two boxes: one white one with party hats all over, and another with a candy cane pattern.

“I got you three big presents. Since I wasn’t there for Valentine’s Day,” he says. Like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Or your birthday.”

You can feel yourself start tearing up. “Max…”

He grimaces. “I’m so sorry. Should I have gotten more-”

“Max. We weren’t…” You swipe the tear off your left cheek, a little bit of eye pencil coming off with it. The alcohol is making you emotional, you tell yourself. “We weren’t even dating back then.”

“You were alone, though. I mean we did go on that date for your birthday, but it was just dinner. I, just…” He trails off, pulling at the carpet fibers. “You deserved better for this year.”

You set the box down gently, and move over to sit on his lap. He’s a little surprised when you hug him tightly, but he embraces you back quickly, one of his hands immediately reaching up to play with your hair.

“You’re one of the most thoughtful people I know. Thank you.” You whisper, and you can hear an exhale of a laugh when your breath tickles the back of his neck.

“It’s my pleasure, shatje.” He pats your shoulder, and you kiss him with a giggle still on your lips. Crawling off of him, you turn your attention back to the presents he gave you. The pink box holds the silkiest, softest cami nightgown you’ve ever touched; the one with party hats, a signed copy of your favorite author’s newest novel laying on top of a heavy navy blue knitted blanket. Arguably, though, the Christmas one is your favorite - a pair of Lightning McQueen Crocs. Signed by Charles Leclerc.

“You’re ridiculous,” you burst out laughing again while he only smirks and pours his champagne flute full once more. 

“You know it, darling."

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[navstuffs]

Synesthesia

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x GN!Reader

Summary: "A condition in which stimulation of one sense generates a simultaneous sensation in another". Or aka the fic where Gojo Satoru fucks you inside his domain expansion.

Trigger Warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!, SMUT, tiny squint of dubcon (reader goes mind blank inside the domain), creampie, multiple powerful orgasms, reader gender isn't mentioned

Author's Notes: probably the hardest smut i have ever written. idk how many times this has been done in the fandom (im sure tons) and one time i read this INSANELY good fic abt it and have never found it again. anyway, enjoy! credit on the images from this post right here.

other gojo fics

An average person will feel many sensations in this world, either physically and/or spiritually (if you believe in that type of stuff). Before meeting Gojo Satoru, your emotions were still there to remind you, hey, you are human: come and feel us; you can't stop us.

Everything changed after you met Satoru.

Gojo Satoru wasn't normal. Even in your first meeting, even without being a cursed user, you could tell something was off about him in the best way possible. The white hair, the ethereal blue eyes behind the sunglasses, or the fact that he consumed sweets as someone should be consuming water. Even your concerns about diabetes didn't feel necessary with this man. 

And then you started dating him. Yes, you, the average human being of this world, the single person in the million of eight billion or more. And he chose you, fell for you, for some crazy idea in his head. You became his new drug in the best way possible. Gojo Satoru could never have had enough of you. 

The kisses were intoxicating, and his neediness was that of someone who could not hear the word "no." Satoru would pout like a child, his head down enough that you could see his eyes shining through his sunglasses. And you would say "yes" as if only that vision persuaded you (it was your heart speaking).

Now, fucking Gojo Satoru, that was on a whole new level. At this point, you knew of the curses, the Jujutsu world, and the fact that somehow you are dating the strongest of that universe (?!). Fucking Gojo Satoru was not like fucking your other lovers. Satoru was entirely in during sex. As in head, soul, mind, the total package deal. And it was only fair you gave him the same. 

-x-

"What would happen to normal humans inside your domain expansion?" 

The question is met with curiosity by Gojo, who is wearing his black bandana today. He ponders for a moment, one finger toward his chin (because you said once he looked cute doing it, and he does it every time now). "They probably wouldn't be able to see it. Just feel it."

"Could it be considered safe?"

"Mhmmm, let me think. For some milliseconds. Why?"

"Nothing."

Oh, but Satoru had already perceived your interest. Your eyes did not meet his, and you tried to look away, embarrassed. His smile grew from his side lips until Satoru questioned, his voice low, " Is there anything I should know of?"

"You promise you won't laugh?"

-x- 

That's how you end up on top of him, his dick buried deep inside your body. It is already overwhelming, suffocating almost, the air being pulled from your lungs every time your hips meet his, and you weren't even inside his domain yet. Satoru insisted on starting slowly for your safety: 0.1, 0.2 seconds max, according to his estimation. 

"Now?"

"Are you close?" You shake your head impatiently, furrowing your brows. "Didn't think so."

Differing from all the other nights, you sense Satoru's tension. He can't relax, not even without you moaning in his ear. It's not that Satoru believes he will hurt you; Satoru has to consider the slight possibility of what could happen if he lost control for a tiny second and ended up frying your brain on accident.

"'Toru. Focus on me." You demand, squeezing his nipple so he can come back to you.

Satoru reacts: he starts rubbing in between in the middle of your legs, stroking your sex in a way only he knew how to do, after weeks of studying your reactions every time you had sex. In less than two weeks, the prick had learned places you haven't even discovered yet. It had to be six eyes, giving your body away like that. Biting where the neck meets your shoulder together with a particular way of fucking you and hitting on the place that made you see stars could make you cum in minutes. You are thankful he is the strongest because Satoru had ruined you for any other person who existed. 

"Focus, honey."  His voice is steady, his chest heaving up and down.

If someone asked you how a mere mortal felt bringing God to his knees, you would know exactly how to explain. That's exactly how you felt fucking Satoru. Like now, with his hands on your hips, helping you sink inside further every time, your open palms resting on his chest for support. It feels powerful and mythical; his mouth parted away like that, licking his lips from time to time. Satoru is a proud moaner, loud and about - but for this time, his forehead is furrowed in concentration, and barely any noises are coming from him. If it were any other time, Satoru would have helped you or taken control when it had gotten too much for his small patience to handle, moving his hips until you were a blabbering mess.

But now, he has to be focused on not harming you. The situation is even more thrilling if you think like that. Bring a God to his knees because if you don't, he might kill you with his power.

"Satoru!" You moan, needy. A warning that you are getting close.

His white hands raise, and you watch (as always) fascinated as the bandana comes off, even forgetting about your looming orgasm. Gojo Satoru is the most attractive man you have ever seen in your entire life, and if you believe in reincarnation, about ten more lives. He has a smirk on his lips now, happy with the way he affects you. I mean, how couldn't he? 

"Domain expansion, Unlimited Void."

Everything stops. The air stops moving, and time stops. You are paralyzed, your eyes wide, feeling everything and nothing at the same time. Your mind goes blank in the total sense of that word; you can't form a single thought. You forget your name, can't remember your parents' names, or where you were born, what you do. 

At the same time, everything is being shown to you; your consciousness is there, floating lost in the sky, but you can't grasp it. The only thing you can feel is your orgasm, but even that feels like it has toned down, a small explosion the size of a jelly bean growing inside your stomach.

The next thing you know, you wake up in Satoru's arms, gasping for air, shaking, with tears coming down your eyes. You can't stop squirming, and you realize it is your orgasm, with so much energy that could light up an entire city, spreading in your veins and going back into your brain at a swift speed, amplifying your senses. Then you find yourself staring at Satoru's blue eyes, and your mind goes blank again, but not like when you were inside the Unlimited Void. No, now you can feel everything: Satoru's love, Satoru's shooting his cum inside of you, Satoru's hand gripping your hips, the scream coming out of your throat!

Satoru is murmuring something, praising you, saying he loves you, but you pass out again, and the entire world goes black. Satoru holds you, feeling your heartbeat, not placing his bandana on his eyes, your body twitching unconsciously. 

You return to him after a few minutes - if anyone asked Gojo, precisely two minutes, twenty seconds, two exact milliseconds, almost three. 

"'Toru?" Your voice sounds exhausted, grateful, and in disbelief all at the same time.

"I'm here, honey. I'm here. You are okay." He kisses your forehead, holding you tightly in his arms, still buried deep inside you.

Later, when you ask, Satoru will answer that he had felt your orgasm within you. He had never seen you so out of this world, literally dumbfucked. He won't confess he got worried for a second and ended up placing you inside his domain for ONLY one millisecond. You also won't confess yet that you wanted to try again, up to 0.3 seconds (normal humans wouldn't survive), but who cares? You want Satoru to fry your brain. Instead, you will roll your eyes at his answer, slapping his arm playfully, and he won't even turn infinite on because it is you. And who is he to ever deny you? You who finally made his life whole. 

You that had a God wrapped around your finger.

[jungkookstatts]

When She Loved Me

[Summary]: How does one live when life is bound to end? 

[Theme]: Terminally Ill Reader, Non Idol AU, CEO Jungkook AU, Engaged AU, Married AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes and innuendoes, a truly heart wrenching piece. Please read with caution and with full intent to break your own heart. 

[Word Count]: 11,265

[A/N]: I truly broke my soul with this one. If you really want to cry, listen to my muse for this piece: “When She Loved Me” by Sarah McClain (yes, the one from Toy Story) or "Stuff We Did" by Michael Gaicchino (from UP)

[Materialist]

It’s spring — your favorite time of year. The air is brisk, but the sun warms his skin despite the chill in the air.

He watches the cherry blossoms fall dramatically as the wind pushes through the branches of the trees. They flow through his hair, catching on his clothes and his skin. 

He thinks about you as they whirl around the city, wondering if you’re able to see the blossoms through your window.

Jungkook doesn’t have to check into the hospital anymore. He’s become a regular there. In fact, he’s come so often, he knows the names of all the nurses on your floor. Jungkook is a friendly guy, and he’s come to know each nurse quite well.

Your personal nurse, Nurse Sandy, greets him as he makes an appearance on the 4th floor. Jungkook gently wraps his hand around the knob to your room, just about to push it open until she speaks.

“You won’t find her in there, love,” she smiles. She finishes cleaning up an area on a movable cart before she officially turns his way. “She’s up on the roof,” she points to the door at the end of the hallway.

“Ah,” Jungkook shyly bows in thanks. His hand comes up to rub the hairs at the back of his neck. There’s a sense of slight slight awkwardness in the air from his mistake. 

“She’s been up there for a while,” she explains.

Jungkook simply nods before telling her that he’s going to join you. She lets him go, watching the grown man make his way towards you.

He catches you leaning against the metal bars encasing the rooftop. Your arms are folded against the railing, and your leg is crossed over the other as you stare out into the openness of the city. He can imagine your face — eyes closed and a content smile on your lips — as the breeze takes over your body.

You’re beautiful, even standing with your back faced to him; even with a cart of fluids attached to one side of your body, and an oxygen tank placed on the other. Nothing can take away from you.

“You can say something, you know,” you break the silence.

Jungkook feels his heart nearly leap out of his body. He didn’t know how long he had been standing there. Or how long you knew he was standing there. Embarrassment floods his cheeks as he clears his throat.

“S-Sorry,” he laughs. Jungkook makes his way over to you, leaning his arms against the metal just as you are.

“The weather is perfect, Kook,” you sigh in content. When he looks to you, his imagination is confirmed reality: your eyes are closed and your lips are lips pulled up in the most delicate way. A clear tube stretches across your cheeks, but it doesn’t take away from your beauty. You’re you, and he finds himself staring in admiration as the cherry blossoms flow around your delicate frame. It’s like they’re pulling you into the spring.

“Your cheeks are cold,” he observes. The redness of your nose and the red skin at the corners of your eye do little to hide from how the weather effects you body.

“Are they?” He watches you open your eyes, gently touching your cheeks with your fingertips. “Oh—I guess they are. I hadn’t noticed,” you smile. “Winter is still in the air, but I couldn’t just sit in that room and watch the blossoms fall from the window.”

“I got a scarf if you want,” he suggests.

You attempt to refuse, but he’s already pulling it out of his bag and gently wrapping it around your neck and shoulders. He’s careful with the cords, not wanting to damage or ruin anything as he wraps you in his clothes.

Once he has situated the scarf a few more times, he’s looking at you, a content smile on his face. He loves moments when you let him do this—when you let him engulf you with his warmth. It makes him feel special.

You’re leaning against his chest in the next few moments, wrapping your arms around his waist and sighing against his chest. You missed him. Even though you he visits you everyday, you miss him in every moment he is gone.

Jungkook rubs your back, one of his hands pressing your head into his chest as he places a kiss on top of your scalp.

“How long have you been out here?” He asks you.

“Since this morning.” His chest rises from your words. You stop him with your own, knowing what he was about to reprimand you for. Don’t worry, I ate,” you chuckle, poking his chest. You knew that was going to be his next question. “Nurse Sandy has been out here with me for most of the day, waiting for you to come and give her a break.”

Jungkook chuckles, holding you closer against him when a strong breeze blows against the two of you. He protects you from it, turning you gently so his back shields your body from the wind.

“I hate being in there,” you mumble. He almost doesn’t here it, but if it wasn’t for the small break in the wind he probably wouldn’t have. “I wish I could sleep next to you again.”

“I know,” he kisses your head again. “You’ll get out of here soon. I know it.”

You don’t say anything. Instead, you rest your chin on his chest, staring up at him with curious eyes.

“What?” He laughs, tucking your hair behind your ear. It’s become thin, the nutrients it had just a couple years ago has been completely sucked out. But Jungkook doesn’t mind. As long as you don’t mind, he’s alright. Everything about you is beautiful. You could be bald or patching or have the worst allergic reaction on your skin from some of the medications you take, but he wouldn’t care. Behind all that is you, and he loves your soul with all of his.

“Nothing,” you give a small smile. It seems forced, but Jungkook pays no mind. He knows not to expect too much—your mind has been haywire lately, thinking and thinking and thinking. He knows you’re stressed and exhausted.

It’s been two years since you got sick. He’s been there the entire way, watching you change and get angry at the world and try your best to just suck it up and wait to get better. But he knows how hard you’re trying to be positive. He knows it’s the hardest thing to harbor when you’ve been waiting so long for just some good news.

But he also knows you need a rock to lean on; hell, he’d turn into one physically if that’s really what you needed. He’s been there for you as a shoulder, as a weight to keep you grounded. Though you might have a hard time seeing any positive in the world, he would always see something positive in you.

“You wanna watch that new anime?” Jungkook breaks the silence. “The one on Netflix you saw the last time we were browsing through shows?”

“Yes!” You exclaim. “I’m so glad you brought that up because it’s taco night in the cafeteria and I was so excited to bring back an old tradition.”

You’re referring to your taco and Netflix nights a while back before all this happened. It used to be your thing to do with him. Your “date night”, one could say. It’s been hard to get permission to bring in outside food from the hospital, though. So you were nearly jumping out of your bones, your heart monitor going crazy, when Nurse Sandy told you about taco night.

“They’re probably not going to be ‘Maria’s Flaming Taco’s’ good, because it’s crappy hospital food, but I don’t even care,” you explain. “I just want to be with you.”

Jungkook smiles at your reaction, the butterflies in his tummy doing nothing to hide the way your happiness fuels his affection for you. 

“It’s a date, then,”  he nudges his nose against yours. He plants a small kiss on your lips afterwards, allowing himself to feel you on his skin.

A part of his head tells him to savor it, because he never knows when the last time might be that he gets to kiss you so. But the largest part of him, the part that’s been keeping him together during all of this, tells him that moments like this will come again. That hope is in the air as spring brings about new life.

You’re going to be alright. Everything is going to be alright.

__________________

“How’s about this one?” Jungkook points to the shiny diamond below the clear casing. There’s a a collection of earrings, necklaces, and bracelets surrounding the specific jewel he points out.

“Hmm,” you hum, tucking your hair behind your ear as you stare down at the diamond. It’s huge — extremely dramatic in size and way too detailed. “I don’t think it represents us that well,” you candor.

“You’re right,” Jungkook sighs. He runs his hands though his hair in slight frustration.“I feel like we’ve been looking at these for forever.”

“I told you: I’m fine without an engagement ring, baby,” you coo. Your arms come to wrap around his own, resting your head on his shoulder.

“I know,” he groans. “But I wanted to do it properly. With a ring. On one knee. All that traditional sappy stuff.”

“Hey, I liked how you proposed,” you pout. “It was romantic.”

“We were in the shower, babe. I was like…2 seconds away from shoving my dick in you,” you fiancé mumbles the last part.

You laugh at that, softly clutching his arm before a certain ring catches your eye.

“Kook,” you gasp, pointing your finger at the gem. “Look at that one.”

Before he has time to respond, you’re already pulling him toward the ring. You point at it through the glass, gasping in awe at its beauty.

The ring represents your relationship with Jungkook perfectly. A small, plain band with a giant emerald-cut diamond paced at the center. It doesn’t have any of that extra stuff to it. Just a classic diamond on a classic band: a timeless ring that incorporates a little bit of you and a little bit of him.

“Are you looking to buy?” The clerk on the other side of the case asks.

Jungkook looks down to you, asking you with his eyes if you’re sure this is the one. You simply nod your head, a smile forming on your lips.

“Can we try it on?” He asks the clerk.

“Of course!”

The man unlocks the case, gently pulling the ring out onto the table.

“It’s a 4.20 carat,” he starts, pulling the diamond from the velvet floor it was ground to. “It comes in a range of 2 carat to 5 carat in case this one is a little high, or a little low for your intentions. Feel free to try it on and see what you think.”

Jungkook gently handles the diamond, putting his other hand out asking for your own. You place your fingertips on his, and your fiancé slides the diamond on your ring finger slowly.

He observes the ring on your hand. It’s a perfect look. Everything he was looking for and everything you wanted — a perfect mixture of the two of you in one object.

Jungkook nods, a small chuckle falling out of his lips when you shimmy the diamond around, catching the light as the diamond reflects it.

“Do I look like your fiancé?” You ask, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Fuck, yeah you do,” he laughs. “It’s perfect, Y/n.” Jungkook let’s go of your hand, instead choosing to hold your ring finger, examining it before he turns to the clerk. “We’ll take it.”

“Congratulations!” He exclaims. “Would you like this size? We can talk prices over here. Are you paying, sir?”

“We both—” you start. But Jungkook is quick to interrupt.

“I am, yes,” he says.

“Kook,” you scold him in a whisper. This ring is set at 65,000 dollars. There’s no way you’re letting him take care of this on his own.

“It’s alright,” he smiles down at you. “This was how it was supposed to go anyways. I buy the ring, you have no idea, then I propose, then you’re like: ‘Omg Kook! I can’t believe you chose such a beautiful amazing ring! You’re my hero!’,” he changes his voice to what you’d guess is a mocking of yours.

“Shut up,” you laugh at his interpretation.

“Seriously babe, I got it,” he kisses your forehead. “You’re marrying the CEO of the biggest software company in Korea. I got the extra cash.”

“Prick,” you pinch him. “Go talk sales. I’m gonna look around.”

Jungkook nods, letting you detach yourself from him as he follows the clerk behind the counter and into one of the rooms.

A very long a boring conversation goes on with the clerk for a while. Pamphlets and ordering arrangements, ring cases and polishes are given to Jungkook to choose from. He’s confident enough to make final decisions on it all. You already said yes, so he’s content in knowing that you’d definitely say yes when he does it all over again.

He’s inserted his blackcard into the machine when he hears sudden gasps and a yell for help from one of the employees outside of the room. 

“Oh no. A robbery?” The clerk looks out the door. He shakes his head in disappointment until someone shouts ‘call an ambulance’. 

Both the men are out of their seats and making their way to the main room in haste, eager to see what could be going wrong.

Jungkook looks for your face, and a panic settles in his stomach when he can’t find you. Quickly, he paces to the crowd, pushing through the people until he’s met face to face with yours on the ground, unconscious.

There’s blood leaking from your nostrils and one of your ears, the liquid dashing across your face as it continues to leak out of your body.

This can’t be happening. No way. Nooo way. You were just here, clutching onto his arm and laughing with him. What wen’t wrong?

“Get out!” He nearly screams at the people to move. The crowd moves, recognizing him as the man that was just with you a few minutes ago. Jungkook crouches next to you, placing a hand under your neck and another on your pulse.

“Y-Y/n, baby, can you hear me?” He asks.

Luckily, your heartbeat is there, but it’s very weak. Confusion and fearful adrenaline pumps through his veins when you don’t answer, just the dead weight of your head lulling while he gently holds it in his hand.

Before he can do anything else, there’s a paramedic crouching on the other side of you.

“Don’t worry,” she assures him. “We got her.”

There’s little time for him to respond, because two other paramedics push him out of the way, lifting your body as if it had no weight onto a movable bed. He follows after you and panics by your side until you’ve finally awoken in room 456 of the nearest hospital.

__________________

“Jungkook,” you whisper to him. It’s dark in your room. The sun has set and the lights were turned off long ago when Nurse Sandy brought in the projector for you two to use. You want to say your tacos were finished nearly two hours ago.

Now, your boyfriend rests, cuddled to your side on your small hospital bed, arms wrapped around you and head placed on your chest.

You two have been at it, watching “Way of the House Husband” since this afternoon. You’re almost certain he’s fallen asleep a few times, this being one of them.

“Love,” you gently shake him.

Jungkook stirs, his eyebrows crinkling and his hand clutching yours a little tighter.

“You have to wake up, Kook,” you kiss his head. “You’re not supposed to be here past 12.”

“Don’t care,” he mumbles against your skin. “I want to sleep next to you.”

“I want that, too,” you sigh. “But you know we can’t. I have treatment at 5am.”

At that, Jungkook sits up sleepily, crossing his legs on the spot he was laying. “They’re too harsh on you,” he says.

“What would you know, Dr. Jeon?” you laugh, poking his chest.

“5am is too early for chemicals and medicine and radiation and—”

“It’s okay,” you stop him. “I asked for that time slot, anyways. Get’s it done and over with so I can leave the rest of the day to spend with you.”

Jungkook smiles at that, but there’s a certain pang in his heart he doesn’t understand why he feels. His eye catches sight of your engagement ring on your finger, gulping at the memory as he holds it in his hand.

“Y/n,” he whispers your name, moving his thumb over your ring finger.

“Hm,” you hum.

“Do you think,” he starts. But the words are hard to get out. He doesn’t like flaunting his insecurities like this to you, especially about this matter. He should be strong, should be unwavering. But he can’t help it. “Do you think we’ll be able to live together again? To go back to it all. Like how it was before.”

You gulp at his words. You were worried about this question. Mainly because you don’t know the answer yourself. It’s something that pushes you forward everyday, something that gets you though the pain. Going back to your old life, marrying your best friend, starting a family and living life together. It’s everything you need to imagine to push yourself harder. To get better.

But recently, you haven’t been showing any progress. Your sickness is getting worse, and it’s something you refuse to tell Jungkook. Something that you’re hiding from him in hopes that if you keep it low, it will eventually smoothen out on its own. You’re just impatiently waiting for the day it does.

“I don’t know,” you candor. “But it’s all I think about. Memories of us before all this play in my mind constantly. I imagine our future all the time,” you squeeze his hand. “The both of us healthy and back to life.”

“I imagine it, too,” he sends a soft laugh. “I miss you, Y/n.”

There’s a lump in your throat at his confession.

It’s hard to live like this. So unbelievably hard.

Yes, you’re sick. And yes, it’s painful to go through the treatment process. But all of that is second to the pain your feel when you realize what you’ve done to him and all you s put him through.

You’re thankful your fiancé has made it nearly everyday to come to you while you stay cooped up in here. But you can’t help but feel selfish about it all. There have been times when you almost called off your relationship, the pain too much to imagine if he were to watch you pass or to watch you deteriorate until you do. How you know it would destroy him, how you know it already is.

It’s painful to see him clutch onto hope, to look at you as if it’s the last time he ever will. Though he thinks you cannot see it, you can. That look he gives you every once in a while, taking in your face, memorizing it when he thinks you’re not looking. It’s so hard to watch him go through all of this. He shouldn’t have to.

But Jungkook is relentless. He’s scared out of his wits about the possibilities of the future. But he knows you are, too. And he can’t leave you alone in your fear. He can’t abandon his love just because some pesky illness decided to create a little bump in the road.

“We should get married,” you confess.

“We are getting married,” Jungkook says.

“No, now. We should get married now, Jungkook,” you squeeze his hand again. This time, Jungkook looks at you differently. The soft glow of the moonlight shows your features to him, caressing your face with the light.

“I thought you wanted to wait until you got better,” he recalls.

“I don’t want to wait anymore, Kook. It’s been two years,” you gulp. “I want you as my husband.”

There’s a quiver in your lip when you utter the last sentence. The tears flood your eyes, and Jungkook is quick to pull you into his embrace.

“I want to be your wife, Jungkook,” you cry into his chest. “Before it’s too late.”

“No,” he sternly holds your shoulder. “Don’t say that, Y/n.”

“I’m scared,” you confess in a mutter.

Jungkook feels a soft drop from his own eye fall down his cheek. Fuck, if he wasn’t just as scared as you are. He’s terrified. But to hear you say it, he wants to protect you. He’d gladly take more fear, more terror and fright, if it meant you felt safe. If it meant you felt like everything was going to be okay.

“I know, baby,” he kisses your scalp. “But I’ve got you.”

__________________

“Ms. Y/l/n,” the doctor walks in.

Your mother is by your side, sitting on the chair. Jungkook is on the other, clutching your hand in his own at the sound of the doctor’s voice.

The doctor looks over at your mom, and then to Jungkook.

“Excuse me,” he starts, gently smiling at your fiancé. “This conversation has to be confined to family members. Please understand. It’s just conduct of the hospital.”

You gulp, looking up at Jungkook with a fear in your eyes. He gently smiles at you, though. Telling you it’s going to be okay, even without him there.

“I’ll be right out side,” he kisses your head. “Not going anywhere.”

“Okay,” you let out a shaky breath. Jungkook lets go of your hand, making his way out of the room. Your hand feels cold now that he’s gone, and you find yourself staring at the way he anxiously runs his hands through his hair when he exists the room.

He stands awkwardly as he waits for the conversation to be over. It’s been almost an hour of him pacing and sitting, and looking on his phone as thoughts consume his mind.

Everything happened so fast and so unexpectedly. What was just a happy day, the day you choose what form his promise would represent in a ring, turned unto a night full of fear. Not in a million years did he think the next few hours would be spent pacing, just as he is now, outside of a hospital room.

The door to your room opens, and the doctor steps out. The man gives Jungkook a tense smile before motioning his hand toward the room, telling him it’s okay to enter. Jungkook takes a deep breath, sitting up from his spot and appearing in the doorway.

He watches you from the door. Your mother has you in her embrace, her eyes closed as she holds you tight. He’s unable to make out her expression.

You’re muttering something to her, and she opens her eyes to meet with his. Your mom send a small smile his way until she’s back on you, telling you that he’s waiting for you.

You clear your throat, wiping at your face before you take a deep breath. You tell your mom it’s okay to let him in, and your mother nods at Jungkook, telling him he’s welcome.

“Is everything okay?” he asks you, gently sitting at the end of the bed.

Your eyes are red at the corners, and you lips are puffy in the way they always are when you cry. He feels a pang in his heart at your face. He’s never seen you in a state like this. It tempts him to let his own emotions flow, but this is not his time. You’re hurt, and he needs to be there for you.

“Yeah,” you nod, a small chuckle escaping your lips. “I’m just gonna have to stay here for a bit.”

Jungkook gulps at your words, trying to shoot the fear down.

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“I’m just a little sick, is all,” you grab his hand, playing with his fingers. “I’ll be alright.”

“H-how sick?” he dares to ask. It’s a small question, but one that felt so heavy to say aloud.

“Sick enough to say that this room might be my home for a little while.”

__________________

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Nurse Sandy shakes her head. “But you have been cleared.”

“Really?!” you exclaim, nearly hopping out of your hospital bed. The IV in your arm prevents you from leaping into the woman’s arms, and you’re stuck to squealing on your mattress.

“Just for two months,” she says. “And you still have to carry your oxygen tank and do your treatments in the morning and make sure that you’re coming in for check-ups.”

“I will! I promise I will—oh my god,” you gasp. Your hands come to cover your mouth as you think about what these next two months hold for you. “How am I going to tell Jungkook?”

“Maybe you can start by meeting him at home?” Nurse Sandy suggests. “Make it a little surprise.”

“That’s perfect!” you say, taking the IV out of your arm and tearing the sheets off your body. “Oh god, I’m so excited. Do you have a change of clothes?”

“Of course,” she laughs.

Nurse Sandy turns away, probably going to where the spare clothes are. Meanwhile, you’re left alone in your room, a racing heart and a mind imagining just how you’re going to surprise your fiancé. You know you’re still not doing well, but you’ve asked the doctor, surgeons, and nurses if you could just have a month or two to get married. Just a month or two to be outside of here while you tie the knot with your best friend. Honestly, you didn’t think you’d get any approval at all. You’ve already started planning a hospital wedding. But today’s news shocked you. You’re beyond ecstatic. You don’t even know where to begin.

“Put these on and meet me downstairs. We’ve got a schedule for you and an entire two months of supplies for you to take home. Plus an on-call personal nurse you can call at any time you need one at home,” Nurse Sandy says. She hands you a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that feel way too thin and large to keep any warmth in. But you’re happy to take them and get out of this stupid hospital gown for once.

“Okay,” you beam.

Nurse Sandy makes her way out, but you stop her before she has the chance to close the door.

“Nurse Sandy?” you call.

“Yes?” she stops, looking back at you from the doorway.

“Thank you,”

She gives you a smile, happy to see you cheer up.

“Of course,” she nods. “Next time I’ll see you, you’ll be Mrs. Jeon.”

You blush at the title.

“Hell yeah, I will.”

__________________

You feel the nerves shoot through your system when the hospital’s driver arrives at your apartment complex. It’s been two years since you’ve ventured in here. You wonder how much your home has changed. You wonder how Jungkook has been living in it all by himself.

It’s during the daytime, so Jungkook has probably left for work already. You feel excitement thinking about him again. You can’t wait to see his reaction.

The driver stops in front of the entrance, telling you that you’ve reached your destination. He comes around, pulling the door open for you and helping you pull out your oxygen tank.

“I’ll get the stuff in the back,” he says. You nod to him, your thumb harshly smoothing over the key fob Jungkook gave you about five years ago to his apartment.

With shaky hands, you press it to the inner door to the complex, and you sigh in relief when a positive beeping noise and the sound of doors unlocking rings in your ears. You press the handicapped button to the door for the driver, who carries a few extra oxygen tanks and bags of prescription medicines and other things you may need during your much needed time with your fiancé.

The driver thanks you, and you reply back to him before showing him the way to the elevator.

It’s a long ride up. 38 floors of apartments make the wait in the elevator all the more anticipating. You can’t wait to smell home again.

“It’s this one,” you say, nodding to room 3860 at the end of the hallway. Jungkook has a corner apartment, which mean’s it’s the biggest on the floor. You press the key fob to the lock, and it flashes a green light at you, telling you it’s been accepted.

The smell of home engulfs you. It’s just as you left it — everything organized and clean, the furniture and floors clear of clutter. There’s personal items on a few of the standing drawers, the ones you and Jungkook picked out together on vacations. You almost cry at the nostalgia. It’s hard to come here when it used to be so second nature to you.

You place your keys on your designated spot on the key holder on the wall. It’s right next to your fiancé’s name, and you smile thinking about him seeing your keys on your holder once again.

“You can just set them in this closet,” you point to the one near the door. It’s your’s and Jungkook’s coat closet. But given it’s late spring, you guess it hasn’t been put to much use lately.

The man leaves and makes his way out, telling you to be careful. You nod and tell him to thank Nurse Sandy one more time, to which he laughs and agrees.

The rest of the evening is spent exploring your home. It’s like you’re walking into one of your friend’s parents bedrooms when you were young. It feels like it’s wrong, feels weird because you’ve never explored that part of your friend’s home before. But there’s a familiarity to it anyways.

You sit on his side of the bed in your shared bedroom. You laugh because it appears as if he hasn’t touched your side at all. It’s made and the pillows are organized perfectly. The sheets are tucked in and the bedding is smoothed out as he’s been keeping it neat since the day you last ventured in here.

His side of the bed is unmade. The sheets are pulled from when he got up this morning, and the decorative pillows for his side are scattered on the floor.  

You take it all in, breathing in the smell of him that overpowers your bedroom. You miss this—waking up to hold him and going to sleep cuddled together. You wonder how he’s been going to sleep these days.

Your body starts to feel tired when you close your eyes, and Jungkook’s scent does nothing to help your weak body from falling into the depths of sleep. The bed has always been so comfortable, especially Jungkook’s side. It’s warm and curves into your body as you lay against the sheets. The smell of him wafting into your nostrils as you lay your head on his pillow.

It wasn’t you intention to fall asleep. No, you wanted to bake something sweet for him, put up some decorations or do something to make it special. But Nurse Sandy warned you about the effects of not being on IV constantly. Your body isn’t getting everything it needs to stay awake for long periods of time. But you were given a long list of to-do’s in order to keep your energy up. For right now, though, you forgo the list until you’re able to look it over and figure it all out with your fiancé.

__________________

Jungkook’s exhausted. He’s beat and he totally would have gone straight to you after work had he not been feeling completely gross. The plan is still to see you. But right now, he needs a shower.

His body is aching when he walks down the hallway to the 38th floor. All day he spent sitting in his desk, listening to sales pitches and hiring a few more people who he honestly could care less about. Needless to say, he needs a hot shower, a cup of coffee, and a dose of you in order to make his day feel right.

He takes a deep breath when he presses the key fob against the door. The briefcase in his hand swings when he pushes it open, immediately setting it down in the dip in the doorway. He almost closes his eyes when he enters his apartment, the darkness of the home from the set sun doing nothing to hide his need for sleep. But his heart leaps out of his chest when he sees a pair of familiar grey sneakers tucked in the corner of the entryway. His eyebrows knot together at the sight, his heart beating rapidly in his chest when he looks up to the key holder on the wall. There they are — your keys, placed simply on the hook with your name on it.

“Y/n?” he whispers. There’s a panic in his heart when he turns on the light. Why were you here? Is everything okay?

“Y/n?” he shouts. But there’s no answer.

Jungkook quickly rips off his jacket, his shoes messily thrown in the entry way as he runs into the kitchen. He shouts your name again, but there’s no answer.

Jungkook’s chest heaves, the silence and the lack of you anywhere makes his brain think of the worst possible outcome. Did you come here against the will of the doctor? Did you give up? Did you come here to greet him and it all go wrong? Did you collapse? Are you okay?

Jungkook pants heavily as he rips open the door to his bedroom. The lights are off and the lack of sunlight coming through his window makes things hard to make out. However, he quickly turns on the light, his lungs relaxing immediately when he sees your body softly tucked into his sheets.

“Y/n, baby,” he calls out your name softly. Jungkook kneels by his side of the bed, gently moving your tank in the process. He shakes you gently, and you stir at the feeling of his touch.

“Kook?” you groggily moan. Your eyes open in sight of him, a wave of disappointment flooding through you. “Fuck—I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep.”

“Are you okay? What’s going on? Why are you here?” he helps you sit up, his own body sitting next to your legs on the mattress.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” you groan, your head falling into your palms.

“What surprise?” he tucks a chunk of your hair behind your ear. Your skin is hot, and he wonders if he should get the thermometer or take you right back to the hospital.

“Nurse Sandy let me go,” you explain.

“What?!” he gasps. “Why would she do that?”

“No,” you chuckle at his misunderstanding. “She let me go for two months. To be with you. To get married.”

“O-Oh,” he gulps. He can’t help the pulse in his heart that leaps at your words.

Fuck, is this a dream? Never in a million years did he think he’d get the chance to have you during your treatment. Hell, they’ve kept you under extremely strict rules for the past two years.

“I wanted to make it a surprise,” you whine. “But I came home and I smelled you and I just—I passed out. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook shakes his head, smiling at you while you groan in your mistake. He honestly is still processing it all. He wants to ask you to pinch him, to make sure this is actually happening before he wakes up from his dream and becomes upset.

“It’s okay, my love,” he kisses your forehead. “I’m honestly a little struck right now. Is this really happening?”

You nod your head, a content smile showing on your face as you speak. “I was just as shocked as you are. I mean, I’ve been asking for just a week or two to be out of there so that we can get married. But they’ve just given me the same answer every time, telling me that they’ll ‘see’ or that they’re not sure that it’s gonna be a possibility,” you hold his hand. “But when Nurse Sandy told me two whole months was approved…I knew I had to make it a surprise. It kinda backfired on me, though. Nurse Sandy told me I was going to be much more fatigued off IV, but I kinda took her words for granted. I was just so excited.”

“It’s okay,” he smiles, adjusting the clear tube across your cheeks. “We’ll take it slow.”

Jungkook holds your cheek, and you lean against at the feeling of his touch on your skin. 

You feel a little emotional. None of this was supposed to happen. Your sickness, the wait to get married, the pause in life. Everything was supposed to be normal, but now you find it all to be complicated and oh-so painful. You shouldn’t have to live like this. He shouldn’t have to live like this.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he whispers. Jungkook’s thumb wipes at the tear that dares to fall from your eye. You hold his hand to your cheek, keeping his touch against you.

“We were so regular,” you laugh. “Just two normal people,” a few more tears stream from your eyes, and Jungkook pulls you into his chest, shielding you from the pain. “But now this happened. And you have to go to bed alone every night. You have to come home to emptiness. Have to make trips just to see me. To deal with all my bad days; days when I can barely talk to you because it hurts.”

“Stop it, Y/n,” he whispers into your hair. “I’d do it for the rest of my life if it means I still get to have you.”

“It shouldn’t have to be this way,” you sob. Jungkook rocks you in his hold, his arms tightening around your gentle body as you cry.

“But it is,” he says. “This is life. It’s just a bump in the road. A big bump, but thank god I’ve got a bunch of different cars to test out which one makes it over first.”

You laugh at his comment. You want to stab his ego a little, but his comment warms you to the extent to where you don’t think you have it in you to do so. 

“I’m gonna take care of you, Y/n,” he simmers. “In sickness and in health, no?”

“Till death do us part.”

__________________

“It’s terminal,” the doctor says.

He watches your mom shake her head, her pearl earrings whipping against her cheeks at his words.

“It can’t be,” she says. “She’s never had something like this in her life! We don’t even have a genetic history—”

“It happens to the best of us, unfortunately,” he interrupts her. You’re sure he hears things like this from mother’s all the time. But you don’t care. It’s true. You’ve been living your life healthy for as long as you remembered. You exercise, eat healthy foods, train your brain…you even have an air purifier in every room of your home. How can this happen?

“Your sickness is in it’s second stage. It’s a 50/50 chance it will get worse or better within the next few months. But regardless, I will just lay the facts out to you. The illness will more than likely be the cause of your death. However, given that it is in its second stage, we are able to slow it down and give you a few extra years,” the doctor explains. “We can put you on the transplant list, but unfortunately, since you are in the second stage, it puts you down as less of a priority compared to those who have a worse illness or who need it immediately.”

Your mother scoffs, her eyes wallowing with tears at the doctors information.

Meanwhile, all you can think about is Jungkook. How the hell are you going to tell him? Would it even be fair to tell him? You don’t want him to be any more worried than he already is. Not to mention how it would absolutely kill you if he were to look at you everyday not knowing if it would be the last.

The doctor’s words are drowned out as you think of how you want to go about this. There’s scenarios playing out in your head. The thought of dying does not even matter to you. All you can think about is how you’re going to protect your love from reality.

“Can we not tell anyone?” you ask your mother quietly.

“What?!” she exclaims. “Y/n, we need to raise awareness or something,” she holds your hand. “Don’t you want to at least tell Jungkook?”

“No,” you say sternly. “I can’t do that to him. I love him too much to destroy him like that.”

“Well,” your mom lets out a shaky breath. A part of you feels bad that you couldn’t shield her from it, either. But someone has to know. And you’re strict on only allowing her to. “If that’s what you want, then I’ll play along.”

A small tear falls from your eye, and your mother wipes them off your cheeks. She coos you, telling you that it’s okay. But her words mean nothing. How is this okay when you will be gone quicker than you thought you would be? When your time with Jungkook has been given a limit?

“Just don’t tell him, alright?” you cry. “Don’t destroy him like this.”

The doctor clears his throat, telling him he is going to leave the room. He asks you if it’s okay to let your fiancé in, and you nod, quickly wiping your tears.

Jungkook makes his way in the door way, his chest tightening at the sight of your mom holding you tight.

“Is everything okay?” he asks you, gently sitting at the end of the bed.

Your eyes are red at the corners, and you lips are puffy in the way they always are when you cry. He feels a pang in his heart at your face. He’s never seen you in a state like this. It tempts him to let his own emotions flow, but this is not his time. You’re hurt, and he needs to be there for you.

“Yeah,” you nod, a small chuckle escaping your lips.

__________________

Your wedding was beautiful.

It was everything you could want and more. Family and friends, the venue you wanted, the color scheme perfect for the summertime. It wasn’t too hot, either. Perfect weather for early August.

Originally, neither of you wanted a summer wedding. But you had to make do with the time you had, and it turned out to be everything you weren’t expecting, in all the right ways.

You even got to walk down the aisle without your tank. Just your face and you in your dress, walking to your man with the biggest smile. Yes, it was a tough walk. But the minute Jungkook took your hand, you felt strength.

You married Jungkook. It was the most rewarding feeling to have him as yours. To slip on his ring and him slip on yours. It felt right. You felt at peace. For the first time in two years, you didn’t think about your diagnosis. Your mind and heart was full of you and him, and that is all.

Your first dance with him as his wife was filled with emotion. Yes, you had to take it slow—the effects of your sickness made it hard to do anything exuberant. But Jungkook let you rest your head on his shoulder. He held your hand and your waist, guiding you through it all as your husband. He held you as the song played in your ears, memories of graduating college, your first date, the first word you spoke to him, the day he asked you to move in with him, the day he proposed. Everything came to you, and you held him tightly as he danced with you in the memories.

The ride home was filled with tiredness. Truthfully, all you had planned was to eat tacos and watch Netflix. But as you sat next to your husband on the ride home, you realized you wanted to do more. Memories of when you two used to be spicy, when you used to have sex nearly everyday, come back to you. How much that has changed. The two of you have become nearly entirely different people. But you want to try tonight. You want to feel him again, no matter the strain. No matter what might happen. You want to hold your husband.

“I feel wrong doing this,” Jungkook rambles below you. You’re sitting on his lap, both of you in pajamas as some anime show plays in the background. “You sure you can breathe okay? Is this too much?”

“Jungkook,” you let out a frustrated sigh. “We’ve only been kissing for two minutes.”

“I know, but I—”

“If you don’t feel right, then we don’t have to,” you cut him off.

“No—I. That’s not what I meant,” he re-quips. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not, Kook,” you stop. A big part of you feels embarrassed. Has this really become an entirely new experience? You’re frustrated and you feel a blush on your cheeks for even trying. Maybe he doesn’t want this. “Look, if you don’t want to have sex with me, that’s fine. But tell me now, because I’m not about to put my all into it if you’re just going to be worried the whole time.”

“Y/n,” he groans. Your husband runs his hand through his hair. Fuck, if he didn’t want to have sex with you. It’s be two years since he felt you like that. He misses holding you, feeling you around him as he makes love to you. But hell, he’s worried out of his wits. You can’t breathe like you used to. Not to mention the fragility of your body. What if he hurts you? He can’t imagine how bad he’d feel.

You let out a disappointed sigh. His expression telling you that he’s still considering it.

You begin to hop off his lap when his hands grip your hips, forcing you to stay.

“Y-You,” he starts, his thumbs rubbing circles on the skin of your hips. “You have to tell me if it’s too much. I’m being serious, Y/n. I’m worried and nothing is going to change that. But I want you...I miss you so much.”

You nod your head, a breath of relief flooding your lungs when he comes to kiss you again.

He’s gentle with his kisses, although much more sure than what it was just a few minutes ago. He holds your waist while his body gently falls forward. Your back hits the softness of the mattress, Jungkook’s body falling between your legs. You open them, inviting him in. 

He presses soft kisses on your cheek, trailing them down to your neck where he buries his head in the crevice of your skin. Hot hands push up your body. They take your shirt with it, his fingertips gently cascading over the swell of your breasts. You lift your chest up, allowing him to toss the fabric up over your head and onto the floor.

Jungkook’s breath stops in his chest. It’s been a long while since he’s seen you naked like this in front of him. Yes, he’s seen you naked countless times before, but he’s never seen you this thin. He’s never seen your skin so rough and patchy before. Thinking of all your hard times in the hospital, all the pain you went through, he kisses your skin with love as he admires you. 

Nothing could take away from how you make him feel. Not the redness of your irritated skin, not your ribs that poke out a little from the lack of nutrients, not the clear tubs that ties just below your chin and falls on your clavicle. No, you’re still you, and he holds you with care remembering just how much you’ve suffered. He wants to make you forget all of it.

Your cold hands startle him when they begin to push his own shirt up. Jungkook smiles down at you, giving you a kiss before he takes it off. Your eyes memorize his body, feeling his skin just as it was the last time you touched him like this. You sigh at the memories, how every one of them failed to recall just how it felt to touch him in real life. Nothing can compare to actually feeling him. Nothing can do justice to the velvet of his skin on your fingertips.

Jungkook gently leans himself back on his calves, sitting more upright as his fingers hook around the band of your pajama pants. He looks at you with permission, and you nod, giving it to him. 

The man slowly allows them to fall off your body, his eyes eating you up as you shiver from the cold.

He’s quick to warm you, though. After sliding off his own pants, he’s on top of you again, his arms holding you to his chest as he kisses the sweet spot on your neck.

“J-Jungkook,” you moan. Your husband simply hums at your arousal, his hips softly grinding onto yours when you wrap your legs around his hips. He still has his boxers on, the length of his cock straining against the fabric. It’s been too long since he’s felt you. Been too long since he’s made love to you. His dick is begging him to feel you again. 

“I need you,” you cry beneath him. 

Jungkook lifts his head from your neck, his forehead gently falling on yours while his lips cascade over your own. Your hands come to his jaw, holding him to your face as he closes his eyes. 

He’s memorizing your touch, memorizing how you feel and how you hold him. He’s memorizing the sound of your breath, low long you take between each one to inhale and exhale. The sound of your heartbeat and the sound of your fingers sliding over his skin. He takes you in as his heart wrenches in his chest.

Jungkook opens his eyes to be met with yours. They’re red around the edges and water begs to fall from your eyelids, but he kisses your cheek in attempt to tell you that he needs you, too.

He shimmy’s off his boxers, his cock springing free against his lower abdomen as he does so. It’s quick, and he’s back to your side the minute the fabric falls on the ground.

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips. “So much.”

You bite your lip, struggling to keep the tears in. He looks at you with so much love, so much adoration. You remind yourself that he is your husband, and a tear falls from your eye.

“Don’t cry,” he gulps. “I’ve got you.”

You nod against the palm that holds your jaw. He kisses your tear before he lines himself up with your entrance. You lock your arms around his neck, pulling him close to you as he slides himself in.

A gasp leaves your lips as he enters you. Although he’s slow, it’s been a long while since you felt the length of him. Your muscles aren’t like how they used to be, and you find it somewhat painful, even though he’s being gentle.

“Are you okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?” he pants in worry. You feel so good, so fucking tight, but that gasp you let out washed away any feeling he had down there for a second.

“Hurts a little, but I’ll be okay,” you smile. “J-Just—slow.”

Jungkook nods, the knob in this throat bobbing when he takes the base of his cock and guides it into you. He’s slow, just like you asked, and the slick of your arousal does a lot to make the second pump go much smoother.

“I-Is this a good pace?” he asks you once he delivers the fourth pump into you.

You sigh, your eyes closing as your head falls back. “Yes,” you pant. This is what you missed. You forgot how good it felt to have him inside you like this.

Jungkook nods before towering back over you. His forearms rest near your head as your legs wrap around his waist. He’s not harsh with you, just a medium pace and gentle thrusts in and out. The old him would have complained, would have needed something faster and more intense in order to get off. But the times have changed. It’s been so long, he honestly feels he could cum right now despite the low intensity. 

Jungkook rests his cheek against yours, his head leaning against your skin as he makes love to you. He feels overwhelmed, and his heart races at the thought of you. 

A tear falls from his eye when you run your hands through his hair, the hope in his heart nowhere to be seen when he feels the gentleness of your touch rake through his body. He sobs above you, that wall broken when you kiss his shoulder.

“Jungkook, baby,” you coo. “What’s wrong?”

Jungkook shakes his head, his arms closing in on your figure while his head buries itself in your neck. He thinks about you, about the first time he felt your touch, wondering if this is the last time he ever will. He lets the tears drop as his hand comes to hold the back of your head, the other sliding underneath your neck. He holds you close against his body, squeezing you tight in case you might escape if he didn’t hold you like this. 

The feeling of his dick in you does little as his heart breaks little by little at the thought of the worst. At the thought of this being the last time.

“I can’t lose you,” he croaks, his voice muffled between your skin and the sheets. “I love you too much to let you go.”

Your lips press together, that lump in your throat begging to rise.

“Come here,” you ask him softly. Jungkook slowly raises his head, his nose pressing against yours per your request.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you press a hand to his heart. “I’m gonna be here.”

Jungkook’s tears flow onto your face, and he can’t help but let out another whimper at the message you tell him. He wants to pretend you didn’t just say that. He wants to pretend you told him that you’re all better, that you’re not sick anymore. But he can’t help but clutch the hand that touches the skin over his heart.

“Y/n,” he breathes, his lips red and wet from all the emotion. “Let me see you, just for a little while.”

He refers to your tube, asking if he can take it off.

You nod to him, and Jungkook gently takes it off your face. The choked sob he lets loose at the sight of you breaks your heart. His lip quivers and his nose starts to run as he looks at you with pain in his eyes. He looks at you, memorizing you again and again. He looks at you as his wife, who has been there for him through everything, who has loved him through every stage of his life. He holds your cheeks, his head resting against your forehead as he rocks into you.

“I’ve got you,” you hold him.

Jungkook exhales, his nose rubbing against yours when you tell him so.

“I love you, Jungkook,” you promise. “You’re going to be okay.”

__________________

You passed in the spring.

The season took you in all its blossoms, engulfing your death with new life.

There were cherry blossoms at your funeral.

Nothing but trees and flowers engulfing the outdoors as he stood at the back of the ceremony. Nurse Sandy was there. He hated the way she looked at him as if she knew he would never be the same. 

He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Not when you couldn’t flash him a smile. Not when you wouldn’t wrap him in your warmth and tell him you love him. He couldn’t look at you with the hope he harbored throughout the entirety of your sickness. It was no longer here. You were no longer here. 

He took a trip not too long after. The new life of spring was too much for him to handle.

You were no longer there with him. That house he spent two years building in hope that you would one day move into it with him as his wife was too silent for him to stay in.

Every inch of him yearned for you. He went through every grieving stage with the roughest of emotions. Clutching the necklace that held a small amount of your ashes around his neck, his heart suffering in agony, his mind playing memories of you over and over and over again.

His pain went over what his body could handle, causing him to turn into someone he didn’t know.

He stayed in upper Russia for a while, embracing the cold. Then moved to Aruba in search for the summer.

Only on your birthday three years later did he return home.

He could almost smell you off the plane, the familiarity of home raking through his lungs violently.

The place he once had made for you has now been occupied by a family in their mid 40s — a couple with two children and a grandmother living together. He smiles, glad that the house has been to some use.

He’s been paying rent on his apartment since he left. You’re still in there, all your belongings and all of your scent still lives within the comfort of his old home. Everything you organized — from the way you folded the laundry to the way you placed the trinkets on your desk — was all still there.

Your smell is gone when he enters his home. It’s dusty and dark. All but welcoming when he enters. There’s a spot with your name on the key holder plastered against the wall, and he tries his best to ignore the way your keys hang there when he places his keys in his own slot.

He’s made plans to sell the apartment by the time of his next trip. You’re not here anymore, and he’s starting to find it difficult to pay rent when he’s spending so much on living as a non-citizen in another country.

He unfolds the cardboard moving boxes in his kitchen, using the masking tape to seal the ends before he starts going through it all.

He starts with the kitchen first.

He sifts through all the shelves and cabinets, placing spices and expired noodles and sugar and flour in the trash. He cleans the sink and counters before he moves onto the dinnerware. The box beside him labeled “Jungkook and Y/n” stares at him with grief when his hands touch the delicate wood of your shared cabinet.

The fine china dinnerware you got as a wedding gift, the “Spider-Man” “Spider-Woman” mugs, the shot glasses with “bride” and “groom”,  your favorite spoon he never understood why it was your favorite when it looked only slightly different than the rest, all go into the box.

The living room is next.

Blankets and cup holders and remotes all go into a different box. He’s got movers taking the couches and coffee table tomorrow, so he tries to clean them off the best he can before he sells them in an auction. Pictures of you and him scatter the walls, small trinkets and souvenirs he got with you or gave you as a gift all go into the box.

His fingers tremble when he realizes what is next: the bedroom. You two shared it, but from what he remembers, you completely took it over. Finishing touches and decorations and picture frames. All of it you insisted would add “hominess” to his rather plain apartment. And he finds that you’re correct when he enters it and turns on the lights.

It’s dusty, and the lights flicker a little when he turns them on. But there it is. Your side of the bed hitting him right in the face.

He gently walks over to it, his fingers brushing over the duvet where you used to lay. He imagines you’re still here with him, ready to burst through those doors and tell him that you’re here with tacos and a new Netflix series to watch. He imagines what you’d say, where you’d touch him, how gentle your embrace would be.

When it comes to be too much, he turns away, focusing his attention on your bedside table.

A picture of you and him flashes back at him, and he feels a pulse in his throat when his finger slowly brushes the dust off the glass surrounding your face. You’re in your graduation gown, hair falling over your shoulders as you’re jumping onto his back. Nothing but smiles and happiness on your face. He remembers this day like the back of his hand. University graduation — one of the happiest days of yours and his life’s—before everything happened.

This is how he remembers you. Sweet and healthy. Nothing but confidence and laughs as you slowly took his heart into your hands.

He places it in his own box, choosing to keep it close to him as he travels around the world. There’s a few digital things and a lamp he stores away before he’s opening your drawer.

He expects to find nothing, but instead sees a stack of cards, all a little dusty, wrapped in a blue ribbon.

When he pulls it out, he turns the stack around and sees that they’re all addressed to him.

Jungkook stops his rummaging, a heart beat in his his chest as he sits down on the bed, examining the large stack of envelopes in his hand.

He reads his name in your handwriting, a thumb gently tracing over the ink before it softly unties the blue ribbon holding them together. He stares at the first one labled: “The first: to Jungkook”. He tears the seal. The envelope reveals a small page filled with your writing. He takes a deep breath.

My husband,

Jungkook pauses, the back of his hand coming to his mouth as the heaviness in his heart sinks all the way down to his feet. 

I wondered when a day would come where I could give this to you. But the more life goes on, I’ve realized these words would be of most meaning when I am gone.

I’ve known for a while I would not continue living life with you. My sickness gets worse with every passing minute, and I’ve since found myself on borrowed time. However, I am so beyond thankful.

All I wanted out of life was spend it with you. Being with you has been the best blessing I’ve received since the day I was born. Marrying you was more than I asked for, and I can go on with no regrets knowing that I get to die with your promise to me.

To say I have no sadness is a hard lie to tell. The thing that consumes my mind the most these days is how you will be when I am gone. How you will come home and how you will continue to live.

You have always loved with everything you had. I felt it with every word you spoke, every breath you took, and every touch you gave. I can only hope you will continue to do so as you did for me since the day we met. That you will find it within you to return.

I don’t know how long it’s been since I have passed when you’ve decided to read this. But for all the things I will not have the chance to say during every hard time in your life, during every morning and every evening, during every achievement and every failure, I want to say them to you now. I want you to come back and read this when you need me. When you need what you know I’d say. What you know is true:

I love you.

I love you and will always continue to do so. My body may be gone, but my soul still holds yours. It holds yours with every stage of my life, with every stage we went through. It holds you knowing that you were there holding mine. I’ve come to return your favor. 

Your hope you gave to me I now give to you. 

I know you will strengthen. I know you will live and you will live with everything you have, just like you always did. You’re my Jungkook. My husband. And I can only hope you feel me walking next to you as you continue to live.

I lived loving you, and i died loving you.

I will always love you. No matter what form my soul takes, it will be there to walk next to yours, to hold it and love it until we meet again.

The paper is crumpled in his hand, clutched against his heart and necklace as he screams into the air. The tears follow in transit, curling his body as he holds your words to his heart. He’s hysterical, the dustiness in the room filling his lungs as he sobs on your side of the bed.

Three years of holding it in, three years of pretending you were still here with him, pretending that it was all just a dream, release out of him in a painful wail. He’s remembering you, your voice playing in his head as he reads your letter. He can hear you telling him.

He remembers that morning. The last one before it happened. How you clutched onto his arm, smiling at him as you picked out a ring. He remembers holding you on the rooftop of the hospital, going through every season with you as he protected you from the wind. He remembers how you held him when he made love to you on your wedding night, how you said “I do” at your wedding. He can see your smile, the sound of your laugh. All of it he can feel.

The stack of envelopes nearly falls out of his lap, but in his fit of sobs, he is able to hold them close. He sifts through them, trying to wipe his tears in order to read them. But his heart only shatters to dust when he reads that they’re all addressed to him, one for each year, for each anniversary, until the 70th one. A part of him laughs, unsure if he will even make it another 70 years as a 34 year old.

Regardless, he runs his finger over the one that stares up at him, and he feels himself begin to heal when he reads:

“Our first Anniversary: to my Jungkook.”

__________________

[End. Do not copy. Original work of @jungkookstatts , 2023]

[butterfly-lies-chase-them-away]

EXCUSE ME MISS MA’AM!?

Hi I speak for everyone that if you have the time, energy, and love…. Could you please give us a part two of Bunny. Yeah we’re gonna need that in order to function properly. I am begging at this point.

P.S. you are a beautiful person!

Sincerely,

Chaos

I love you babes! 💚 again, I cannot believe an amazing author like YOU, wanted a part two from ME! This absolutely means the work to me. Thank you :)

Bunny (Part 2) - Health Ledger!Joker x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Joker x Fem!Reader Joker x Reader with Anxiety

Word Count: 11,941

Warnings: violence, Joker, manipulation, minor age gap, implied stalking, technically breaking and entering Summary: This new-found relationship- if it could even be labelled as such, has been wearing on Y/n. Being with a wanted criminal generally does that to a person, she finds. Now, when she encounters a potential new friend during her lecture, how will this dynamic fit into her already tumultuous existence?

(Part One) - (Part Three)

A/N: Thank you everyone in fact for all the support on this fic that I've gotten and a lot of requests for a part two so I hope I can deliver! I love this man so much (maybe not as much as our girl Chaos, but you get me). In this one, I definitely wanted to make him more manipulative and just overall aggressive so ✨ slay ✨ So I hope you all enjoy this part two :) 💚

-

To describe her newfound "relationship" with the Joker as unconventional would be a massive understatement. If Y/n wasn't anxious before, she most certainly was now. The Joker's presence in her life was a constant source of unease, his unpredictable nature and the shadow of his criminality casting a dark cloud over her thoughts.

The fear of discovery gnawed at her mind like a relentless beast. What if someone saw him entering her dorm? What if word got out and she became a target? Despite the Joker's assurances of protection, Y/n couldn't shake the nagging doubt that lingered in the depths of her mind.

And then there were the surprise visits, each one a jolt to her already frazzled nerves. With no means of contacting him or determining when they would meet, Y/n found herself at the mercy of the Joker's whims, her schedule and peace of mind constantly disrupted.

What truly unsettled her, however, was the realization that the Joker seemed to have an uncanny ability to keep tabs on her, lurking in the shadows without her knowledge. She was trapped in a game she didn't fully understand, a pawn in the Joker's twisted world, with no escape in sight.

But it wasn’t all too bad, for one thing, he was surprising very generous, in his own way. He’d show up, showering her with gifts and other offers that kept her on her toes. He’s also offered to buy Y/n a high end apartment, but knowing him, it would be paid with dirty money, which is something she’d think about everytime she stepped into the apartment. 

Despite his unpredictable nature, she couldn't deny the feelings she harbored for him. In his presence, she experienced emotions she had never known before, a strange mixture of fear and exhilaration that left her breathless. Strangely, amidst the chaos and danger that surrounded him, he had a way of making her feel oddly calm and grounded.

Nights like these were the ones she cherished most. Lying on her single bed, Joker enveloped her in his embrace, his warmth providing a sense of solace that she found nowhere else. They remained in silence, finding comfort in each other's presence.

Y/n felt his lips press against the side of her head, eliciting a slight groan as she instinctively reached to wipe away the residue of his makeup. She hadn't yet seen him without it, respecting his choice to keep his identity concealed, but sometimes wished she could see the man behind the mask.

"You don't like my kisses?" Joker quirked an eyebrow, teasingly.

"It's not your kisses I mind, it's the greasy mess you leave behind," Y/n replied with a playful grin.

“Greasy mess? Like this?” Joker responded by nuzzling his face against hers, prompting a laugh from Y/n as she attempted to push him away.

Y/n playfully pushed Joker away, laughing as she saw his face paint smudged from their playful exchange. It wasn't until she caught her own reflection in the small mirror across the room that she realized her own face was adorned with similar streaks of color.

"Oh yay! Now I have to go out and clean my face," she remarked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Joker glanced at his reflection in the mirror, a grin spreading across his face as he observed the colorful mess they had created together.

"It's a masterpiece," he declared with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh, feeling a sense of freedom and happiness in these moments with Joker, despite the uncertainty that lingered in the background.

Y/n rose from the bed, intending to clean the smeared face paint from her skin, but Joker's voice halted her in her tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" he inquired, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

"Just to wash my face," Y/n replied, her voice gentle.

Joker's response was immediate. "Later," he insisted, his arms beckoning her back to the warmth of their shared space.

Reluctantly, Y/n made her way back to him, sinking back into the comfort of Joker's embrace as they resumed their quiet companionship.

As they lay together in silence, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in her mind. Joker's presence, though comforting in its own way, was a constant reminder of the unpredictable nature of their relationship.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/n felt Joker's hand gently stroking her hair, a gesture that contrasted sharply with his usual erratic demeanor. She turned to look at him, meeting his intense gaze.

"Now tell me… What’s going on inside that little mind of yours, Bunny?" Joker asked softly, his eyes searching hers for answers.

Y/n hesitated, unsure how to articulate the swirling emotions inside her. "Just... wondering about us," she admitted quietly.

Joker caressed her cheek, "You worry too much, Doll," he murmured, pulling her closer to him.

But despite his reassurance, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that gnawed at her insides. She knew that navigating a relationship with the Joker would never be easy, but for now, all she could do was hold onto him and hope for the best.

-

As Y/n stirred from her slumber from her sudden alarm ringing, the absence of Joker's warmth beside her sent a pang of loneliness through her. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up in bed and glanced around the room, the morning light casting a soft glow over the empty space.

With a heavy sigh, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached for her phone to silence the persistent alarm. The familiar routine of the morning only served to highlight the absence of Joker's presence, leaving Y/n feeling a sense of gloom that lingered like a shadow.

Despite knowing that their time together was fleeting and unpredictable, Y/n couldn't help but yearn for the comfort of Joker's embrace. But as she resigned herself to another day without him by her side, she knew that the loneliness was a small price to pay for the moments of connection they shared.

-

Navigating the familiar corridors of Gotham University, Y/n followed her well-worn path to her lecture hall. As she walked down the steps, she suddenly stopped. Someone was sitting in her spot. Well- it technically wasn’t her seat, but it had become her unofficial spot through habit.

Her heart quickened with uncertainty as Y/n scanned the room, searching for an alternative seat. Sighing in relief, she found herself an empty row along the side, a makeshift refuge from the disruption to her routine.

As she took her seat, she couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. It was unsettling to deviate from her routine, even in such a small way. But she reminded herself that change was inevitable, and sometimes it was necessary to step out of her comfort zone.

Just as she started to relax into her new surroundings, a voice startled her from behind.

"Hey, mind if I sit here?" the voice asked, and Y/n turned to see a guy standing beside her, a friendly smile on his face.

"Uhh.. No, you can sit," Y/n replied hesitantly.

He smiled warmly, settling into the seat beside her. "I’m Max, by the way," he introduced himself.

"I’m Y/n," she responded quickly, feeling a flutter of nerves at his friendly demeanor.

"He really piled on the homework this week, didn't he?" Max said with a chuckle, referring to the professor's latest reading.

Y/n nodded, a small smile forming on her lips. "Tell me about it. I feel like I'm drowning in articles."

Max laughed, a sound that was oddly comforting to Y/n's ears. "Well, at least we're in the same boat. Misery loves company, right?"

As they chatted, Y/n couldn't help but notice the genuine kindness in Max's eyes and the way his smile reached all the way to his eyes. It was a stark contrast to the unpredictable intensity she experienced with Joker.

Despite her lingering anxiety, Y/n found herself enjoying the conversation, feeling a sense of normalcy she hadn't felt in a long time. For the first time in a while, Y/n felt a glimmer of excitement at the prospect of forming a new connection. Maybe this blip in her routine was exactly what she needed.

-

As they walked up the steps, Max's voice cut through the murmurs of departing students. He turned to Y/n with a friendly smile, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I'm heading to the library. Care to join?"

Y/n paused, her gaze flitting to the clock before returning to Max. His genuine invitation sparked a flicker of warmth in her chest. "Thanks, but I don't think I have time," she replied, a hint of regret in her tone.

"No worries. Maybe next time?" Max suggested, his smile unwavering.

Y/n's mind raced, contemplating the possibility. She couldn't help but feel excited about Max's offer. "Sounds good," she finally said, returning his smile with a small one of her own.

"Great," Max said, his smile widening before he turned and walked out of the lecture hall.

As Y/n watched Max's retreating figure, a sense of relief washed over her. For the first time in a while, she felt a glimmer of normalcy amidst the chaos of her life.

-

Walking back to her dorm was a breeze, as it was only a short distance from campus. With each step, a smile adorned Y/n's face, a rare occurrence after a typical day at university. Beyond the casual acquaintances in her dorm, she rarely found herself engaging with others on campus.

Unlocking her dorm room door, Y/n stepped inside, only to be greeted by a sudden scream that escaped her lips. Joker stood before her, a chilling presence that sent shivers down her spine.

"You scared me!" Y/n sighed, quickly shutting the door behind her. “I didn’t expect to see you till later on.”

Joker's demeanor was unsettlingly calm as he observed her, his hands casually tucked into his pockets, an eyebrow quirked inquisitively.

"Have a... good day?" Joker's voice carried an edge of menace.

"Uhh... I suppose," Y/n replied, her nerves palpable.

There was an unmistakable tension in the air, an unspoken threat lingering between them. Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.

"Are you okay, Joker?" Y/n asked cautiously.

"Dandy..." Joker's response was terse, his gaze piercing as he continued to scrutinize her.

Y/n's brow furrowed in concern, her instincts on high alert. But before she could voice her apprehension, Joker abruptly changed the subject, his tone taking on a predatory edge.

"Made any friends lately?" Joker's question hung in the air, loaded with an underlying threat.

"N-no," Y/n stammered, feeling like a cornered animal under Joker's scrutiny.

A sinister smile tugged at Joker's lips, an unsettling sight that sent a chill down Y/n's spine. She felt like a mouse being circled by a hungry cat- or in this case, a bunny being circled by a hungry wolf as Joker began to pace around her, his movements calculated and predatory.

"Hmmm..." Joker's voice was a low murmur, filled with unnerving curiosity. "Then who was that boy you were talking with?"

"Oh! Max," Y/n began to explain, she smiled slightly, thinking back to their encounter. "I had to sit in a different seat today, and he sat beside…"

Her words trailed off as realization dawned on her. Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to form a coherent response. She hadn't anticipated Joker's sudden interrogation, nor did she understand how he knew about her encounter with Max.

"H-how do you know about that?"

But Joker merely smirked in response, his yellowed teeth gleaming in the dim light of her dorm room, his gaze fixated on her with an intensity that made her blood run cold.

"So, my Bunny made a friend?" Joker's smile widened, revealing his yellowed teeth in a chilling grin. "Why don’t you tell me about this… Max.".

"I-I don’t know much about him, I just met him today," Y/n explained, her voice tinged with apprehension.

"Is that so?" Joker halted abruptly, standing mere inches away from her.

Y/n nodded, her nerves palpable as she awaited Joker's next move.

"You know, Bunny," Joker began, his tone shifting to something more serious, "I don't think you should be hanging around with this Max character."

Y/n's eyes widened in surprise. "Why not?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady despite the rising fear.

"Because," Joker replied, his voice dropping to a low growl, "I don't trust him. And you should know by now that I don't like it when people get too close to what's mine."

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to process Joker's words. She knew he was possessive, but this felt different. More dangerous. She needed to tread carefully.

"But… he's just a friend," Y/n protested weakly, hoping to reason with Joker.

Joker's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer to her. "I don't care if he's just a friend. Stay away from him, Bunny. Trust me, it's for your own good."

Y/n swallowed hard, looking down, feeling a knot of fear tightening in her stomach. She knew she had to heed Joker's warning, no matter how much it frightened her.

Joker held her jaw, tilting her head up to look at him with an intensity that sent shivers down her spine. “Is there a problem, Bunny?” he asked, his voice low and commanding.

She shook her head, feeling the weight of his hand against her skin, making it hard to think straight.

“Good,” Joker said, his lips brushing against hers in a possessive kiss. “Now, let’s go have a lie down, hmm? I know how class just wears you out,” he suggested, his tone oddly tender as he led her to the bed.

Y/n complied, allowing Joker to guide her onto the single bed. As he kicked off his shoes and settled in, she followed suit, slipping off her own shoes before nestling against his chest. His warmth enveloped her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling the familiar comfort of his body against hers.

"You know I care very much about you, Bunny?" Joker said, his voice soft yet firm.

"Yes... I know," Y/n murmured, her heart fluttering at his words.

"Good," Joker said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, his touch surprisingly tender.

Looking at his wristwatch, Joker pushed himself up, not-so-gently dropping Y/n beside him. "Duty calls," he announced, his tone playful as usual.

"But it's only been like two minutes," Y/n protested, disappointment evident in her voice.

"I know, Doll... I'm gonna take you out tonight... how about that? Wear something nice, and I want you to use the money I got you, okay?" Joker suggested, a glint of excitement in his eyes.

Y/n had hoped he would have forgotten by now, it had been ages. "Yeah, okay, I'll go out and find something..." she replied, quielty.

Joker leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss on her lips. "Mwah!" he exclaimed with a grin before pulling back.

"Bye..." Y/n's voice trailed off as she watched Joker leave through her door.

She couldn't help but marvel at how he managed to slip away undetected every time, but she cracked it to Gotham University's apparent incompetence and obliviousness.

With a heavy sigh, she heaved herself up from her bed. It seemed like she wouldn't be catching a break anytime soon.

-

Y/n struggled to remember the last time she had gone shopping for clothes. She gingerly flipped through the stacks of bills, feeling a mix of awe and discomfort at the sheer amount of money in her possession. Each bill represented a dark and mysterious world she was inadvertently tied to, courtesy of the Joker's lavish gifts. Despite her reluctance to accept his extravagant gestures, she couldn't deny the allure of the possibilities they presented.

With a sigh, Y/n tucked the money into her bag and stepped out into the bustling streets of Gotham. The city seemed to pulsate with its own energy, the tall buildings casting eerie shadows on the sidewalks as people hurried by, lost in their own worlds.

As she wandered through the maze of shops and boutiques, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place. The clothes on display were unlike anything she had ever worn before. Bold, daring, and utterly impractical. She hesitated in front of a boutique window adorned with shimmering dresses and edgy leather jackets, feeling a pang of uncertainty gnawing at her.

But then she remembered Joker's words, urging her to splurge and indulge in whatever caught her eye. With a newfound determination, she pushed open the door and stepped into the store, ready to explore this unfamiliar world of luxury and extravagance.

Lost in the sea of designer labels and vibrant colors, Y/n tried to navigate her way through racks of clothing that seemed to whisper promises of confidence and allure. She trailed her fingers over the fabrics, feeling a mixture of excitement and apprehension bubbling within her.

As Y/n looked through the racks of clothing, she sifted through each piece with a discerning eye. Among the array of options, a vibrant red dress caught her attention. It boasted a flattering knee-length hem and a square collar, but despite its appeal, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that it lacked the wow factor she desired. With a sigh, she returned the dress to its place and continued her search, determined to find something truly captivating.

After what felt like an eternity of exploration, Y/n's patience paid off when her gaze fell upon a stunning black dress. The fabric shimmered enticingly under the store lights, drawing her in like a moth to a flame. As she reached out to touch it, her fingers traced the intricate stitching and delicate lace details that adorned the neckline, sending a shiver of excitement down her spine.

The dress exuded an air of confidence and allure that resonated with Y/n. She envisioned herself wearing it, knowing that it would accentuate her curves and command Joker’s attention. With Joker in mind, she couldn't help but imagine the look of admiration on his face when he saw her in such a striking ensemble.

Filled with determination, Y/n approached the checkout counter, the anticipation of owning the dress igniting a newfound sense of excitement within her. This was no ordinary purchase, it was a statement, a declaration of her newfound confidence.

As she handed over the wad of cash, Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of guilt at the extravagance of her spending. The money was a reminder of the tangled web she found herself caught in, a constant reminder of the dangerous allure of the Joker's world.

But as she walked out of the boutique, clutching her new dress tightly, Y/n couldn't deny the thrill of stepping outside her comfort zone. Perhaps, just for tonight, she would embrace the luxury and excitement that came with being the Joker's Bunny.

-

With a mix of excitement and nervousness, Y/n slipped into the sleek black dress she had purchased earlier. Its smooth fabric hugged her figure in all the right places, boosting her confidence with each zip and adjustment. She paired it with elegant heels and subtle accessories, adding a touch of sophistication to her ensemble.

As she stood in front of the mirror, admiring her reflection, Y/n couldn't help but wonder where Joker would take her tonight. All he had said to her was he was taking her out, leaving her in suspense about their destination. Despite the uncertainty, she felt a thrill of anticipation coursing through her veins, eager to see what the evening had in store.

With a final glance at her reflection, Y/n took a deep breath and headed to the living room to wait for Joker. She perched herself on the edge of her bed, her heart racing with anticipation as she played with the hem of her dress, her mind buzzing with excitement for the night ahead.

As the door to her dorm room swung open, Joker stepped inside, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he took in Y/n's appearance. Rising to her feet, she greeted him with a smile, her heart fluttering at the sight of him.

"Look at you!" Joker exclaimed, his eyes lighting up as he gestured for her to spin around. Y/n complied, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she twirled gracefully.

"I see that money came in handy," Joker remarked, wrapping his arms around her waist affectionately.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice filled with gratitude.

"Let's get a move on!" Joker declared, intertwining his fingers with hers and leading her out of the dorm room.

Exiting the building, they encountered no security at the front desk, allowing them to slip away unnoticed. As they stepped out into the crisp Gotham evening, Joker suddenly halted, turning to face Y/n with a playful glint in his eye.

"Wait right here, Bunny. I've got a little surprise for you," he said, giving her a wink before disappearing into the darkness.

Y/n watched him go, her curiosity piqued. She shifted nervously on her feet, her mind buzzing with anticipation as she wondered what Joker had in store for her.

Y/n rocked back and forth on her feet as she waited for Joker's surprise. The evening air was cool against her skin, and the soft glow of the streetlights cast gentle shadows around her. She was so lost in her thoughts that she barely noticed someone approaching until she heard her name being called.

"Hey, Y/n!" The voice was familiar, and she turned around quickly, her expression lighting up as she saw Max walking towards her.

"Hey Max," she greeted him warmly, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Uh, you remembered my name," Max remarked, a playful glint dancing in his eyes.

Y/n chuckled, feeling a sense of ease wash over her in Max's presence. "It's not hard to forget," she quipped back, enjoying the lighthearted banter.

Max stepped up beside her, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his hoodie. "You look lovely," he complimented her, his gaze warm and appreciative.

"Thank you," Y/n replied, a blush spreading across her cheeks at the sincerity in his words.

"Got something special planned?" Max asked, his curiosity piqued as he glanced around at their surroundings.

"My uuh... friend is taking me somewhere," Y/n explained, feeling a pang of uncertainty about how to refer to Joker in that moment.

"I see. Well, I hope you have a wonderful night and see you later then," Max said, offering her a friendly smile before stepping away.

"You too! Bye," Y/n called after him, watching as he walked away with a sense of gratitude for his kindness. 

As Y/n stood on the sidewalk, lost in her thoughts, she suddenly heard the revving of an engine. Glancing up, she saw a sleek purple Ford Cortina pulling up in front of her, the headlights casting an ethereal glow around the vehicle. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that it was Joker behind the wheel.

The car's engine purred softly as Joker leaned over and rolled down the window, flashing her a mischievous grin. "Hop in, Bunny," he called out, his voice laced with excitement.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation as she approached the car, her pulse quickening with every step. As she slid into the passenger seat beside him, she couldn't help but admire the vintage vehicle, its purple exterior gleaming under the streetlights.

"Nice wheels," she commented, unable to hide her admiration.

Joker chuckled, his eyes alight with amusement. "It’s yours, Bunny," he said, giving her a wink before pulling away from the curb and merging into the flow of traffic.

"W-what? Really? For me?" Y/n stammered in disbelief, her eyes widening.

"Check the glove box," Joker instructed, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Curious, Y/n complied, opening the compartment and finding it empty save for a single black box. With a mixture of anticipation and excitement, she retrieved the box, her fingers trembling slightly as she held it in her hands.

"Open it," Joker urged, a playful glint in his eyes.

With trembling hands, Y/n carefully lifted the lid of the box, revealing a stunning gold necklace adorned with a delicate "J" pendant. Her breath caught in her throat as she gazed at the exquisite piece of jewelry, her heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

"It's beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper as she turned to Joker, her eyes shining with emotion.

"You spoil me too much, J!" Y/n exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with gratitude as she hugged him tightly.

Joker chuckled, his smirk widening at her reaction. "You deserve it, Bunny."

With a grin, Y/n removed her current necklace and replaced it with the new one, admiring the glint of the gold against her skin.

As the city lights cast a soft glow over them, Joker seized the moment at the stoplight. Leaning towards Y/n, he pressed his lips to hers, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down her spine. His gloved finger trailed along her jawline, igniting a tingling sensation that danced across her skin like tiny sparks.

"You're J's Bunny, got that?" Joker's voice was low, filled with a mixture of affection and authority as he held her gaze, his eyes piercing into hers with intensity.

Y/n felt her pulse quicken as she nodded, her heart swelling with a mix of excitement and adoration for the man beside her.

"Good," Joker whispered, his lips brushing against hers once more before he leaned back, his attention returning to the road as the traffic light switched to green, signaling their onward journey into the night.

“I saw you talking with someone… Want to tell me about that?” Joker suddenly mentioned. 

The air in the car suddenly felt heavy as Joker's piercing gaze bore into Y/n. She could feel the weight of his disapproval pressing down on her, suffocating her with its intensity. Her fingers fidgeted nervously in her lap as she struggled to find the right words.

"That was just my friend…Max," Y/n finally confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes fixed on the dashboard in front of her.

Joker's jaw tightened, his grip on the steering wheel growing tense. "I thought I told you to stay away from him," he reminded her, his voice cold and sharp.

Y/n's heart sank at the reprimand. She knew she had crossed a line, but Max had caught her off guard, and she hadn't wanted to be rude. "He approached me, Joker," she explained, her voice trembling with apprehension. "I couldn't just ignore him... it would have been rude."

Joker's grip on the steering wheel tightened further, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. He remained silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the road ahead as they drove through the dimly lit streets of Gotham.

Beneath his face paint, a storm brewed in Joker's eyes, his usual charisma overshadowed by a brooding intensity. Y/n couldn't decipher the full extent of his emotions, but the tension radiating from him was palpable. It puzzled her why Joker was so fixated on someone like Max, and she struggled to understand the depth of his agitation over their brief interaction.

"I don't want you talking to him anymore, Bunny. I’ve already told you once…" he said firmly, his voice tinged with a hint of warning.

Y/n nodded silently, her stomach churning with unease. She knew better than to argue with Joker when he was in this mood. Instead, she cast a glance out the window, her mind racing with conflicting emotions.

As they continued their journey in silence, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at her insides. She couldn't help but wonder what would happen if she disobeyed him again.

The journey was filled with an uneasy silence, punctuated only by the occasional hum of the car engine and the distant sounds of Gotham's nocturnal activities. Finally, they arrived at their destination. A dimly lit alleyway nestled between towering buildings, their shadows looming ominously over the narrow passage.

Joker parked the car with a screech of tires, the headlights casting eerie shadows on the graffiti-covered walls. Y/n's heart raced as she stepped out of the car, her eyes darting nervously around the unfamiliar surroundings. This was undoubtedly another one of Joker's mysterious escapades, and she couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension that tinged the air.

As Y/n followed Joker deeper into the alley, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that gnawed at her gut. The dim lighting and the deserted atmosphere made her skin crawl, but she tried to push aside her fears and focus on Joker's presence beside her.

"Where are we going?" she ventured to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker glanced back at her, a wicked grin spreading across his lips. "Somewhere nice, my dear Bunny," he replied cryptically, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Y/n's heart fluttered nervously at his words, unsure of what awaited them at their destination. But she followed him nonetheless. Stopping at a weathered, rust-covered door, Joker pushed it open with a creak. The vibrant lights and pulsating music of a nightclub flooded out, momentarily overwhelming Y/n's senses. Her heart raced as Joker led her inside, the thumping bass reverberating through her chest.

"Cool it, Doll. It's just us," he reassured her, his voice cutting through the cacophony of sound.

As they entered the room, Y/n found herself surrounded by flashing lights and the rhythmic beat of the music with no people. It wasn't a typical nightclub setting, but rather a smaller, more intimate space adjacent to the main dance floor.

Her heart swelled with gratitude as she realized Joker's thoughtfulness. Despite his chaotic nature, he had arranged for a private space just for the two of them, understanding her anxieties and his own need for discretion.

"Dance with me," Joker declared, his eyes alight with mischief as he extended his hand to her.

As the music filled the room, Joker pulled Y/n close, his hand firm on her waist as they swayed to the beat. Y/n's heart raced with excitement and gratitude. Despite the chaos and danger that seemed to follow Joker wherever he went, moments like these made her feel that he was really worth it.

With each step and turn, Y/n couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of belonging in Joker's arms. She was grateful for this moment of peace amidst the turmoil of their unconventional relationship. The music seemed to drown out the world outside, leaving only the two of them in their own little sanctuary.

As they danced, Y/n gazed up at Joker, feeling a surge of affection for the enigmatic man who had captured her heart. In his embrace, she felt safe and loved, despite the uncertainties that lay ahead. She silently thanked whatever fate had brought them together, cherishing this fleeting moment of happiness.

Lost in the rhythm of the music, Y/n couldn't help but revel in the experience, feeling the pulsating beat course through her veins. 

"I've never been to a nightclub before," Y/n admitted, her voice barely audible over the music.

Joker chuckled, the sound low and rich. "Well, you picked the right one for your first time, Bunny," he replied, twirling her around the room.

Y/n laughed, the sound mixing with the music as she allowed herself to be swept away by the moment. It didn't matter where they were or what dangers lurked outside, all that mattered was the warmth of Joker's embrace and the joy of being together.

Joker leaned in close to Y/n's ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Care for a drink, Bunny?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the music.

Y/n nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Sure," she replied.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Joker made his way over to the mini bar tucked away in the corner of the room. Expertly, he mixed together a concoction of spirits, his hands moving with practiced ease. After a few moments, he returned to Y/n's side, holding out a glass filled with the vibrant liquid.

"Here you go, my dear," Joker said, offering her the drink with a smirk. "Drink up." “What is it?” Y/n asked, taking a sip. 

"It's a little something I like to call 'Joker's Special'," he replied with a playful wink, watching intently as she took a sip. "Don't worry, Bunny, it's guaranteed to put a smile on your face."

Placing her cup down, Y/n hesitated for a moment, unsure of how Joker would react to her question. But she couldn't shake off her curiosity, and the need for clarity outweighed her apprehension.

"Hey umm… J?" Y/n started, using the new nickname she had given him, hoping to catch his attention.

Joker turned towards her, his piercing gaze fixed on her. "Yes, Doll?" he replied, his voice tinged with curiosity.

"...How did you know about Max... the first time I mean..." Y/n asked, her voice slightly faltering with uncertainty.

Joker's expression hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. "What's it to you?" he retorted, his tone sharp and defensive.

"I-I was just curious, that's all," Y/n answered nervously, feeling a sense of unease creeping over her.

Y/n swallowed nervously, sensing the tension in the air. She could tell that Joker was growing increasingly irritated by her questions, but she couldn't let it go.

"It's just... I don't understand how you knew about him," Y/n continued tentatively, trying to tread carefully. "I mean, you're always so... aware of things."

Joker's expression softened slightly at her explanation, but the intensity in his eyes remained. He stepped closer to her, his presence looming over her.

"I have my ways, Doll," he replied, his voice low and measured. "Let's just say I keep tabs on what's important to me."

Y/n's unease deepened at his vague response, but a surge of conflicting emotions washed over her as Joker's words sank in. Despite the cryptic nature of his explanation, the acknowledgment that she was important to him stirred something within her.

Her heart fluttered at the realization, a mix of apprehension and a strange sense of validation coursing through her veins. Despite the uncertainty surrounding their relationship and Joker's unpredictable character, there was a strange comfort in knowing that she held significance in his eyes.

Suppressing the urge to dwell further on the implications of his words, Y/n forced a small smile, grateful for the fleeting moment of assurance amidst the mystery that shrouded their connection. She knew better than to dwell on the problems of their dynamic, choosing instead to embrace the fleeting sense of importance that Joker's acknowledgment bestowed upon her.

As the music continued to pulse through the room, Joker extended his hand toward Y/n, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Come on, Bunny, let's dance," he urged, his voice a playful whisper.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her mind still grappling with the weight of their conversation. But with a deep breath, she pushed aside her lingering doubts and placed her hand in his, allowing him to pull her into the center of the room.

Their bodies moved in sync with the rhythm of the music, the space between them filled with an electrifying tension. Y/n found herself getting lost in the moment, the worries and uncertainties of the outside world fading away as she surrendered to the intoxicating allure of the dance.

With each twirl and sway, Y/n felt herself drawn closer to Joker, the magnetic pull between them growing stronger with each passing beat. And in that fleeting moment, amidst the pulsating lights and the thumping bass of the music, she allowed herself to forget about everything else and simply revel in the exhilarating freedom of the dance.

-

Y/n was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement as she took the driver's seat of her new car. Y/n was still at that age where driving was fun, but it had been quite some time since she last had the opportunity. Since moving away from her parents, she had relied on walking and public transportation to get around, so the prospect of hitting the road again filled her with giddy anticipation.

As Y/n navigated through the city streets, Joker sat beside her in the passenger seat, his presence filling the car with a playful energy. With every turn of the wheel, his gaze would occasionally drift toward her, his eyes lingering on her profile with a mix of amusement and something else she couldn't quite decipher.

Subtly, Joker's hand found its way to the space between their seats, his fingers grazing against Y/n's arm, clearly on purpose. Each touch sent a shiver down her spine, igniting a tingling sensation that danced along her skin. Despite the thrill of driving her new car, Y/n couldn't help but be acutely aware of Joker's proximity, his touch stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within her.

As they drove through the city, the night air filled with the buzz of activity, Y/n stole glances at Joker whenever she could. She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes sparkled with mischief, contrasting with the seriousness of his painted grin.

"Enjoying the drive, Bunny?" Joker's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone light but carrying a hint of something deeper.

Y/n nodded, unable to suppress the smile that tugged at her lips. "Yeah, it's amazing. Thank you for letting me drive."

Joker chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "It’s yours, Doll. No need to thank me. And I want you to be careful, I don’t want my little Bunny getting hurt."

Y/n playfully rolled her eyes. "I'll do my best," she replied, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel as they continued on their journey.

Arriving back at the university dorms, Y/n drove to the parking lot tucked away behind the building. The area was quiet, illuminated only by the soft glow of streetlights, casting long shadows across the pavement.

Cutting the engine, Y/n turned to Joker with a hopeful smile. "Would you like to come in? Stay for a while?"

Joker's grin widened, his eyes alight with mischief. "I'd be delighted," he replied.

Exiting the car, they made their way toward the entrance of the dormitory. Each step echoed in the quiet night, the cool breeze brushing against their skin.

Inside, the dormitory buzzed with activity, the sound of music and chatter drifting through the halls. Y/n led Joker down the familiar corridor, the fluorescent lights casting a dim glow as they walked.

Arriving at her room, Y/n unlocked the door and ushered Joker inside. With a flick of the light switch, the room was bathed in a warm, comforting glow. Joker wasted no time in shedding his coat, tossing it carelessly onto the desk chair before flopping onto the bed, his shoes still firmly planted on his feet.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully at his disregard for her tidiness. "You know how I feel about shoes on the bed," she chided, reaching over to unlace them.

Once his shoes were off, Y/n retrieved a fresh set of pyjamas from her wardrobe. "Close your eyes, please," she asked, slipping out of her own shoes before changing her clothes.

Joker feigned a pout. "But Bunny, I don't want to miss a moment of your beauty," he protested, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Y/n rolled her eyes, trying to hide a smile. "You've seen enough of my beauty for one night. Close your eyes," she insisted again, trying to sound stern.

Joker sighed dramatically but complied, shutting his eyes with an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, but only because you asked so nicely," he teased, flashing her a grin before obediently closing his eyes.

After changing, Y/n turned to find Joker still lounging on her bed, his eyes closed as she had instructed.

"You can open your eyes now," she said, approaching him with a smile.

Joker opened his eyes, grinning at her. "Looking as lovely as ever, Bunny," he remarked, sitting up on the bed.

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her chest at his compliment. "Thank you," she replied, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her.

Joker patted the space next to him on the bed. "Come here, Bunny. Let's just relax for a bit," he suggested, his tone surprisingly soft.

Y/n joined him on the bed, snuggling into his side as they both settled in. As she leaned against him, Y/n stole a glance at Joker. His faded green hair was unkempt, yet somehow it suited him perfectly. She longed to run her fingers through it, but the memory of the grease that always seemed to coat it made her hesitate. Instead, she admired his features, even beneath the layers of makeup that concealed so much of his true self.

Her gaze lingered on his face, taking in the harsh lines of his scars accentuated by the red makeup. She knew from touching them that they were surprisingly soft, a contradiction to their intimidating appearance. And she couldn't help but wish she could see him without the makeup, to truly witness the man behind the facade.

She longed to kiss him without getting greasy red residue on her face, and to caress his cheek without leaving white handprints everywhere afterwards. Y/n yearned to see the face of the man who brought her unparalleled joy.

Joker peered down at her, his gaze magnetic. "Am I just that dashing, you can't take your eyes off me?" he quipped.

Y/n smirked. "I don't know, it's hard to tell with all that makeup," she retorted, her tone light but tinged with playful teasing. She knew she was pushing boundaries, but she couldn't resist.

Joker chuckled, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Ah, so my Bunny wants to see the man behind the mask, hmm?" he mused, leaning in closer to her.

Y/n felt her heartbeat quicken at his proximity, a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursing through her veins. "Of course I do," she replied coyly, unable to tear her gaze away from his captivating green eyes.

"But the makeup is what adds to the mystique," Joker countered.

"What if I don't want mystique? What if I don't want the Joker... What if I want J?" Y/n questioned, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

"What makes you think you can handle J?" he added with a smirk.

Y/n groaned and rolled her eyes. "Ugh! You're so frustrating," she said, turning away from him on the small bed.

"Now, is that any way to treat the man who just bought you a car?" Joker playfully put his hand on his hip.

"Stole! You stole me a car," Y/n retorted.

"How do you know I didn’t buy it?" Joker teased.

"You dropped a few thousand bucks in cash in my hands during a bank heist, and you really want me to believe you paid for this car with honest cash?" Y/n countered.

"Just because the cash wasn’t honest, doesn’t mean I didn’t buy it," Joker continued, pressing a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

Y/n couldn't help but laugh at Joker's playful antics, despite the tension that lingered between them moments ago. His unpredictable nature always kept her on her toes, but she found herself drawn to it nonetheless.

"Alright, alright," she said, her laughter subsiding. "Regardless of how you got the car, I appreciate it."

Joker grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "That's my Bunny," he said, pulling her closer into a tight embrace. "Always appreciating my efforts, no matter how... unconventional they may be."

As they lay together, wrapped in each other's arms, Y/n smiled. Even though their conversation didn't go exactly as she had hoped, Joker still managed to put a smile on her face.

-

The next day, Y/n found herself walking with a newfound lightness in her step. The previous night had left her feeling great, the joy of their time together momentarily overshadowing her usual anxieties. Moreover, she appreciated the gesture from J, who had woken her up to say goodbye before leaving, a departure from his usual habit of slipping away silently while she slept. It seemed their relationship was evolving in a direction she welcomed.

Entering the lecture hall, Y/n descended the steps with a sense of anticipation. However, her momentum halted as a familiar voice called out her name.

“Hey, Y/n!” It was Max.

His friendly demeanor and wave caught her attention, and as she turned towards him, he motioned for her to join him. An internal conflict brewed within her as she hesitated. While Max had been nothing but kind, the warnings from Joker lingered in her mind like a shadow.

Nevertheless, she couldn't bear the thought of disregarding Max's invitation, especially after his gesture of friendliness. So, with a tight smile, Y/n made her way over to sit beside him.

“Hey, Max,” she greeted, trying to mask her unease.

“Did you have a good night?” Max inquired, his tone filled with genuine curiosity.

“Yeah, it was fun,” Y/n replied vaguely, opting not to divulge any specifics.

As the lecture began, Y/n tried to focus on the material, but her mind kept drifting. She couldn't shake off the feeling of being stuck. From the second Y/n had met Max, Joker was on her back about it, but she found it impossible to avoid him.

Throughout the class, Max occasionally leaned over to share a comment or joke, and Y/n found herself smiling in response, grateful for the distraction. Yet, each interaction with Max reminded her of the complicated web of secrets she was entangled in.

After the lecture ended, Max turned to Y/n with a friendly grin. "Hey, do you want to grab a drink or something? The cafe near the hub has this new drink I want to try out."

Y/n hesitated, torn between her desire to maintain a semblance of normalcy and the weight of her unconventional relationship with Joker. She glanced at her phone, noticing a text on her phone from an unknown id. Assuming it was just a spam message, Y/n ignored it, looking back up at Max.

"Yeah, sure," Y/n replied with a faint smile.

Exiting the lecture hall, Y/n and Max strolled down the corridor side by side, their footsteps echoing against the carpeted floor. As they reached the cafe, they paused in front of the wall menu, scanning the array of options before them.

After a brief moment of contemplation, Max turned to Y/n with a grin. "What do you feel like having today?"

Y/n shrugged, scanning the menu once more. "I'm not sure, maybe just a smoothie."

"Sounds good to me," Max nodded, stepping aside to let Y/n order first.

As Y/n stepped up to the counter to place her order, she felt a pang of guilt in her chest. Despite her resolve to avoid getting too close to Max, she couldn't help but appreciate his kindness. Yet, she couldn't shake off the feeling of unease, knowing Joker's disapproval lingered in the back of her mind.

After ordering her smoothie, Y/n stepped aside to let Max place his order. Their drinks were quickly made. With their drinks in hand, Y/n and Max found a table by the window, the warm sunlight streaming in, casting a gentle glow over their conversation. Max seemed genuinely interested in getting to know her better, asking about her hobbies, interests, and aspirations. Y/n found herself opening up more than she had expected, drawn in by his genuine curiosity and friendly demeanour.

As they chatted, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. Glancing around the cafe, her heart skipped a beat when she spotted a familiar figure standing across the street, obscured in the shadows. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Y/n recognized Joker immediately, his green locks standing out like a beacon in the crowd, even under a hoodie. 

It was as if her heart stopped as she saw Joker's unmasked face. Gone were the layers of black white and red paint that usually concealed his identity, revealing features that were both haunting and strangely attractive. His eyes, once obscured by dark makeup, now bore into hers with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. The scars that marred his face were stark against his pale skin, a testament to the trials he had endured. Yet, there was an unexpected softness to his expression, a vulnerability that lay hidden beneath the facade of menace. In that moment, Y/n realized that the man before her was not just the Joker, but someone infinitely more complex.

His glare, though obscured from this distance, seemed to taunt her from afar, filling her with a sense of dread that crept up her spine like icy fingers. 

The mere sight of him sent a chill through her, as if his gaze could pierce through the glass and lock onto her own. Despite her attempts to focus on the conversation with Max, her mind kept returning to the ominous figure she had glimpsed, his presence casting a pall over the otherwise mundane surroundings of the cafe.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she spotted Joker, her heart hammering against her ribs. Panic surged through her veins, the last thing she wanted was for Max to become entangled in the chaotic mess that was her life with Joker, especially after the continuous warnings he had given her.

"Um, Max," Y/n interrupted, her voice trembling slightly. "I think we should go. Now."

Max turned to follow her gaze, but by the time his eyes scanned outside, Joker had vanished into the university campus. Y/n's unease lingered like a heavy fog, her mind racing with the implications of Joker's sudden appearance.

"Is everything okay?" Max asked, concerned about etching his features.

Y/n forced a smile, but her nerves were on edge. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just... let's head to the hub, okay?"

Despite Max's protests, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of dread that clung to her like a second skin. As they made their way back to the safety of the university grounds, her mind raced with the unanswered questions and the unsettling presence of the man she couldn't seem to escape.

And then her phone suddenly rang. The weight of the phone in her hand felt heavier than usual, each vibration a tangible reminder of the uncertainty that plagued her mind. Y/n's fingers trembled as she gingerly pulled her phone from her pocket, her heart pounding against her chest like a drumbeat of foreboding. The familiar sensation of dread washed over her as she stared at the screen, the words "Unknown Caller" glaring back at her like a sinister omen.

Max glanced back at her. "You need to get that?" he asked, his voice filled with understanding.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts, before nodding. "U-uh, yeah. Sorry, just a second," she replied, stepping aside to answer the call.

The bustling sounds of the university corridor seemed to fade into the background as she grappled with the decision to answer the call. Her mind raced with a flurry of anxious thoughts, each one a relentless echo of her fears. She knew exactly who it was, there was no denying it. With a shaky inhale, she finally mustered the courage to swipe her thumb across the screen, accepting the call with a trembling hand.

The ringing ceased, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. Every second felt like an eternity as she waited for the voice on the other end to break the stillness, her pulse pounding in her ears like a relentless drumbeat of apprehension.

Her breath caught in her throat as she brought the phone to her ear, steeling herself for whatever awaited her on the other end. "Hello?"

"Go back to your dorm, now," came the chilling voice on the line, sending shivers down her spine.

Y/n's hands began to tremble, her voice faltering as she tried to reason with him. "J, come on... you can't be-"

"You're going to go home now before I make a scene in front of your precious boy toy," Joker interrupted, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

Desperation welled up inside her as she pleaded with him. "J, you know it's not like that!"

"Do you really want to test me?" Joker's voice dripped with menace, sending a cold chill down her spine.

Y/n's heart plummeted like a stone sinking into the depths of a river as the call abruptly ended, leaving her with a gnawing sense of unease. Yet, all she was met with was the stark emptiness of the phone's display, a silent testament to the uncertainty that loomed over her.

Slowly, she looked away from the device, the weight of it feeling heavier in her trembling hands. With a heavy sigh, she tucked it back into her pocket, though the sense of dreed it had evoked lingered like a shadow cast across her thoughts.

Forcing herself to push aside the lingering unease, Y/n plastered a strained smile onto her lips as she rejoined Max. Despite her efforts to appear composed, the facade felt brittle and fragile, threatening to crumble with each passing moment. Yet, she knew she couldn't let her anxiety show, not when Max was standing beside her, oblivious to the turmoil churning within her.

With a deliberate effort, Y/n willed herself to focus on the present, pushing aside the unsettling encounter with Joker and the mysterious phone call that followed. But deep down, she couldn't shake the nagging sense of dread that had taken root in the depths of her being, casting a pall over even the simplest of interactions.

"Hey, sorry, Max. I need to get going," she said, her voice strained with apprehension.

Max nodded understandingly, though concern flickered in his eyes. "That's all good."

"Thanks for hanging out with me...bye," Y/n forced the words out, her heart heavy with worry.

"See ya," Max replied, offering a small smile before turning and walking away, leaving Y/n to grapple with the uncertain future that lay ahead.

With each step back to her dorm, Y/n felt as though she was wading through a thick fog of dread, her every movement weighed down by the oppressive atmosphere of uncertainty and fear. The dimly lit corridor seemed to stretch endlessly before her, its shadowy corners harbouring unseen threats that lurked just beyond her line of sight.

As she approached the worn wooden door of her dormitory, her heart pounded against her chest like a relentless drumbeat, the sound reverberating in her ears and drowning out all other noise. Each click of the key turning in the lock echoed through the stillness of the hallway, a stark reminder of her vulnerability in the face of the unknown.

A sense of foreboding washed over her as she reached for the doorknob, her fingers trembling with a mixture of hesitation and dread. The air around her seemed to crackle with tension, electrified by the presence that loomed ominously close behind her.

And then, as if from the depths of her darkest nightmares, his voice sliced through the silence like a knife, sending a chill down her spine and freezing her in place.

"Open the door, Doll," his words slithered into her ear like tendrils of cold, his breath ghosting over her skin with an icy touch that sent shivers cascading down her spine.

Her hands trembled as she fumbled with the key, her breath coming in shallow gasps. With a shaky twist, she finally managed to unlock the door, pushing it open with a creak. The room lay before her, the atmosphere suddenly growing cold.

It was Joker the closed the door. Joker's arm encircled her waist, his touch sending shivers down her spine. With a gentle yet firm grip, he guided her to face him, but she refused to look at him.

"Look at me, Bunny," he urged, his voice a low murmur that sent a chill through her bones.

Y/n hesitated, her eyes flickering with fear and uncertainty. "I-I don't want to," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Why not? Don't you want to see the face of your beloved J?" Joker's tone was taunting, his lips curling into a twisted grin.

"It's not that... I just... I want to see you when you're not angry with me," Y/n admitted, her voice laced with a mixture of fear and longing.

Joker's grip tightened slightly, his other hand lifting to caress her cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. "And why do you think I'm angry with you, hmm?" he questioned, his voice soft yet tinged with an underlying edge of menace.

Y/n's words faltered as Joker's arm enveloped her, pulling her closer against his chest. She dared not utter another word as his presence loomed over her, enveloping her in a mixture of fear and desire.

Joker's lips brushed against her ear in a rough yet possessive kiss, sending a shiver down her spine. "Talk," he commanded, his voice a low growl that reverberated through her bones.

"I'm sorry, J. Please, Max, he's just a friend. You know that," Y/n pleaded, her voice trembling with fear.

"You're mine, Bunny. That means you belong to me and no one else," Joker asserted, his grip tightening on the necklace around her neck as he held it up for emphasis. "You see this? This J? That mean’s you’re mine." he growled, his voice laced with possessiveness.

"I-I'm allowed to have friends," Y/n insisted, her voice quivering with defiance.

"Why would you need anyone else when you have me?" Joker demanded, his tone laced with jealousy and anger.

"You're hardly ever around," Y/n shot back, her words tinged with frustration.

Joker's presence darkened at her retort, his breathing becoming labored with suppressed rage. "If it were up to me, you'd be tied up in my hideout, where only I can see you, where only I can know you," he spat, his words dripping with possessive intensity.

Y/n's heart raced as Joker's words hung heavy in the air, filling the room with tension. She could feel his grip on her tightening, his presence overwhelming her senses.

"Please, J, you're scaring me," Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her own heart.

Joker's expression softened slightly at her plea, but the possessive gleam in his eyes remained. "You should be scared, Bunny," he murmured, his voice a dangerous whisper. "You belong to me, and I won't accept anyone trying to take you away from me."

Y/n's breath caught in her throat and her eyes already pouring with tears as she struggled to find the right words to calm him down. She knew that Joker's jealousy was irrational, but she also knew that trying to reason with him in this state would only make things worse.

"I understand, J. I belong to you," she said softly, her voice trembling with uncertainty. "I won't let anyone come between us."

Joker's grip on her loosened slightly at her words, and he pulled her into a tight embrace. "That's my good girl," he murmured, pressing a possessive kiss to her neck.

Y/n turned around, but still didn’t look at his face. As Y/n buried her face in his chest, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. She knew that her relationship with Joker was anything but ordinary, but she also knew that she couldn't bear to be without him, no matter how possessive and volatile he could be.

-

Joker had left shortly after their tense encounter, claiming he had "work to do." Y/n remained in her bed, the weight of their conversation heavy on her mind. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she grappled with the conflicting emotions churning inside her. 

Each word exchanged with Joker echoed in her mind, replaying like a haunting melody that refused to fade. The conflicting emotions churned within her like a tempest, pulling her in opposite directions with relentless force. Fear and uncertainty clawed at her heart, gnawing away at her resolve and leaving her feeling utterly drained. Despite the familiarity of these emotions, their intensity seemed to suffocate her, drowning her in a sea of doubt and apprehension.

After spending most of the day in bed, Y/n finally mustered the strength to get up. She knew she needed something to lift her spirits, even if just for a moment. With her stash of snacks depleted, a trip to the dairy for a drink or a treat seemed like the only option to get through the night.

Grabbing her wallet, Y/n ventured out into the dimly lit streets of Gotham. Despite the familiar unease that settled over her, she pressed on, her determination to escape her own thoughts overshadowing any fear of the dangers lurking in the shadows.

As Y/n walked down the dimly lit streets of Gotham, her senses heightened by the eerie silence of the night, she heard the unmistakable sound of someone struggling around the corner. Curiosity mingled with apprehension as she hesitated, uncertain whether to investigate or flee from potential danger.

With a heavy heart and trembling hands, she cautiously approached the corner, the rhythmic thuds of her heart echoing in her ears. Peering around the edge, her breath caught in her throat as she beheld a scene that froze her in terror.

Down the dimly lit street, illuminated by the faint glow of flickering streetlights, she saw Joker, his menacing silhouette towering over a figure writhing on the ground. Anguished cries pierced the silence, sending shivers down her spine as she watched in horror.

Just as she watched Joker lift his leg, poised to deliver a brutal blow, Y/n's scream pierced the night air like a gunshot. "J, No!" she yelled, her voice cracking with desperation.

Joker froze mid-motion, his eyes locking onto Y/n with a mixture of amusement and annoyance. "Uhh, Doll... Don't you have comedic timing, come to watch, have you?" he quipped, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Heart pounding in her chest, Y/n approached cautiously, her gaze fixated on the figure lying defenseless at Joker's feet. As she drew closer, the dim light revealed the familiar features of Max, battered and bruised, his face contorted in pain.

"Max!" Y/n cried out, her voice trembling with anguish as she attempted to rush to his aid. But before she could reach him, Joker's vice-like grip on her arm yanked her back with a forceful tug, halting her in her tracks.

Max lay on the ground, gasping for air as blood trickled down his battered face. Y/n's heart clenched at the sight of him, his once lively eyes now dull with pain. "J! Why?" she pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Joker shrugged indifferently, a smirk playing on his lips. "Had to send a message somehow, Doll," he replied casually, as if discussing the weather.

Y/n's sobs grew louder, her voice choked with anguish. "P-please... Please don’t kill him," she begged, her desperation palpable.

Joker tilted his head, considering her plea with feigned interest. "Hmm, now why would I listen to you? You didn’t listen to me," he taunted, his tone dripping with malice.

Panic surged through Y/n as she fell to her knees, grasping desperately at Joker's arm. "I’m sorry, you were right, I should have listened. Please just leave him alone. Come back to my dorm with me, please!" she pleaded, her words a desperate plea for mercy.

Joker's gaze softened slightly at Y/n's tearful plea, but his resolve remained firm. With a sigh, he released Y/n's grip and took a step back, gesturing to Max with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Consider yourself lucky this time, Bunny," he said, his voice laced with a warning. "But don't forget this little token of generosity."

Joker's footsteps echoed loudly against the silent streets as he dragged Y/n alongside him, his presence looming over her like a shadow. Y/n cast a worried glance back at Max's bloody form on the concrete, her heart heavy with guilt and fear.

"Is he going to be okay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker shrugged nonchalantly, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Doesn’t matter," he replied, his tone sending a chill down Y/n's spine.

Y/n's stomach churned with unease as they continued their journey back to her dorm, the weight of Joker's words hanging heavy in the air. She couldn't shake the feeling of dread that gripped her, knowing that she had once again crossed a line she couldn't uncross.

As they approached her dormitory, Y/n's heart raced with apprehension. She knew Joker's presence would only bring more chaos into her already turbulent life, yet she couldn't deny the strange allure he held over her.

With a heavy sigh, Y/n unlocked the door and stepped inside, feeling Joker's presence loom behind her. She glanced back at him, her eyes pleading silently for him to leave, but he remained unfazed, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her shiver.

"Come on, Bunny, let's have a little chat," Joker said, his voice dripping with a mixture of menace and amusement.

Y/n's stomach churned with dread as she led Joker into her dimly lit room, the weight of their unresolved tensions hanging thick in the air. She braced herself for whatever was to come, knowing that with Joker, nothing was ever as it seemed.

As they entered her room, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She stood by the door, her eyes darting nervously between Joker and the cramped space around them.

Joker strolled into the room with a casual swagger, his eyes glinting with mischief as he surveyed his surroundings. He seemed to take delight in the discomfort he caused, relishing in the tension that hung thick in the air.

"So, Bunny, let’s talk." Joker's voice was laced with a dangerous edge, his tone daring her to defy him.

Y/n swallowed hard, her mind racing as she searched for the right words to placate him. She knew she was treading on thin ice, and one wrong move could have dire consequences. But beneath the fear, there was a flicker of defiance burning within her, a stubborn refusal to bow down to his every whim.

"I-I just... I thought... Maybe... I have no friend’s J…" Y/n stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Joker's lips curled into a sinister grin, his eyes narrowing into menacing slits. "And that’s a problem?" he growled, his words dripping with venom.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of Joker's relentless dominance. She knew she was trapped in his web, with no way out but to play by his rules. And as Joker advanced towards her with a predatory gleam in his eyes, she couldn't help but wonder how much longer she could endure this twisted game of cat and mouse.

Joker's presence loomed over her, casting a shadow that seemed to swallow her whole. He reached out, his fingers curling around her chin to tilt her face up to meet his gaze. 

"Bunny, why do you need friends when you have me?" His voice was honeyed, persuasive, but beneath the smooth exterior lurked a darkness that sent shivers down her spine.

"You're all I need, Y/n. Friends are nothing but distractions, pulling you away from what truly matters," Joker continued, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

Y/n's heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to resist the pull of his words. She knew deep down that he was wrong, that she needed human connection beyond the twisted confines of her relationship with Joker. But his persuasive words wormed their way into her mind, clouding her judgment and leaving her feeling utterly powerless.

"Besides, who needs friends when you have me to take care of you?" Joker's voice took on a seductive tone, his lips curling into a wicked smile.

Y/n's resolve wavered as she found herself drawn into his web of manipulation. She wanted to believe that she could break free from his control, but with each passing moment, it seemed that Joker's hold over her grew stronger. And as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against her ear, she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever find a way out of this twisted dance with the devil.

As Joker's words sank in, Y/n felt a surge of conflicting emotions coursing through her. Part of her wanted to push him away, to break free from his manipulative grasp and reclaim control over her own life. But another part of her, the part that had grown accustomed to his presence and the twisted comfort he offered, hesitated.

"I... I guess you're right," Y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

A satisfied smirk tugged at the corners of Joker's lips as he leaned back, releasing his hold on her chin. "Of course, I am, Bunny. I always know what's best for you," he purred, his tone dripping with arrogance.

Y/n forced a weak smile, the weight of her decision settling heavily on her shoulders. She knew deep down that she was sacrificing her own happiness for the sake of appeasing Joker, but the fear of his wrath and the allure of his promises were too potent to resist.

"Thank you, J," Y/n said softly, her voice tinged with resignation.

Joker's grin widened, a predatory gleam flickering in his eyes. "Anytime, Bunny. Remember, you're mine, and I'll always take care of you," he whispered, his words wrapping around her like tendrils of smoke.

As Y/n nestled into Joker's embrace on her bed, she couldn't shake the heaviness that settled over her. Despite being in Joker's arms, a sense of unease gnawed at her insides, casting a shadow over the supposed comfort of their closeness. Yet, she clung to him, desperately seeking reassurance that his presence alone could provide. After all, if she had Joker by her side, everything had to be alright...right?

-

A/N: Sorry it took so long for this part two to come out but I am so happy to have finished it! I've had it on my mind for AGES but I've had three assignments to get done and then three tests to study for so I thought it would be best to focus on uni first before writing anything and I am SO glad to have gotten them out of the way :P I really liked writing this part because I got to make Joker a bit of a dick. I hope you all enjoyed it and thank you again @chaos-4baby for requesting a part two, I cannot explain how much it means to me, like fr. You are amazing and the queen of Joker fics (Joker's Queen) and thank you to everyone else who did as well, love you all 💚

[sirenscriptures]

primarchs + fantasies

summary: basically just a ramble thirst post because i want to drag 30k/40k into my already mess of a blog. i’m still figuring out certain pieces of characterization/lore so be patient with me here <3 i am suffering this brainrot and dragging you down with me!

warnings/notes: nsfw themes (18+ only), fem-bodied depicted reader, mentions/depictions of exhibitionism, of course size difference, hints of breeding kinks, slight mention of blood drawing, bondage/rope play. (these are partial fantasies i think they’d have but also they are genuinely so touch starved i think even the slightest form of physical intimacy could make them combust. in a good way.)

featuring: lion el’jonson, fulgrim, leman russ, magnus, sanguinius, mortarion, and horus lupercal (pre-heresy)

lion el’jonson

look, if there’s one thing each of the primarchs could use in some way, it’s a fucking break. lion is definitely one of those primarchs. the man has always been on high alert, and has never truly known how to relax. that is, until he bonded with you.

the fact he’s found himself so close to you is quite a milestone of sorts. being a primarch of many secrets, you can assert that he isn’t someone who trusts easily. he doesn't let many others know what his deeper thoughts contain, not even some of his own blood.

however, it’s almost like he’s a different person in your presence. when he’s with you, he feels a profound sense of peace, like he can shut his mind off from his usual stressors and worries. especially during your alone time.

but it’s when he’s completely alone (a rare occurrence) that his thoughts tend to wander more than usual. it isn’t a total shock in the slightest when all he can think about is you. but when his thoughts are crowded with curiosities of what sounds you’d make while on top of him and how you’d feel wrapped around him…yeah it gets a little concerning to someone of his stature.

the thoughts of you like this start small…then they bloom into much more , to the point where if he even looks your direction when in this state of mind he’s a stuttering, flustered mess. a completely rare state for a primarch to be caught in, yet here we are.

so, it’s safe to say that while lion isn’t one to deeply “fantasize” like some of his brothers might, his intrusive thoughts about you certainly have a habit of spiraling and he has to physically slap himself to snap out of it.

fulgrim

in terms of fantasies, where do we even start with fulgrim? ever since you let him get close to you, whether that be on a personal or physical level, it was like opening pandora’s box. when you get him started, there is no going back.

it doesn’t have to be much to get him started with you. just your beauty alone and seeing you smile at him could get his dirtier thoughts racing. (horny bastard <3)

the fact that you were totally oblivious for a while of the power you held over him was amusing at times. though he was much bigger than you, he often thought about what you would do if he let you take the reins over him.

even just the thought of your soft hands running over his bare body could make him shiver. he could picture perfectly how beautiful you’d look if he had you on top of him. but he could also picture how beautiful you’d look if he had you in front of a mirror.

the way your delicate frame would lean against his chest as he fucked into you, massive hands roaming all about your perfect body…

most of the time he has to stop himself from thinking any further, for just the thoughts alone aren’t enough. maybe he’ll show you what he means when you’re alone with him in his chambers.

leman russ

if you want to delve into literal ferality, it is absolutely leman’s brain. and his actions, of course. so it isn’t far fetched to say his fantasies about you are in the same realm as his normal thought processes.

now, just because he is one of the more “feral” primarchs doesn’t mean he lacks complete restraint. but when it comes to you, let’s just say his restraint goes a bit…out the window if you know what i mean.

when his mind does wander and you’re not around, he tends to imagine showing you off. exhibiting how well he can pleasure you and how good you look while he does it to you. he doesn’t mind those of his legion seeing him with you like this, and even when you two are alone during these moments, he almost wants someone to see.

he would love to display the way he makes you whimper and squirm around him while rutting into you. though, he won’t let anyone get the wrong idea. you’re his, and he won’t let you forget that in the slightest.

but that’s not even half of what he’d like to do to you. and you can tell so blatantly in the way he teases you, unashamed of who’s around when he makes his usual remarks. but at the same time, he does it all out of love. he knows how annoyed you get from him pushing your buttons all the time, but he can tell you wouldn’t change it for anything.

magnus the red

for someone who sees most physical intimacy as a “waste of time” like a few of his other brothers, he certainly doesn’t stick to that thought process when it's you he's thinking about.

with magnus being as knowledgeable as he is, it genuinely frustrates him when he can’t figure out at first why he feels this way about someone like you. yet the more time he spends around you, and the more you show how open you are to learning from him and that you actually listen to him, the more these feelings start to increase.

in a strange way, he feels comforted by you. though when he’s closer to you than usual, these feelings of comfort seem to…deepen into more than he first expected.

even though he can’t pinpoint it at first, he finds that every time he’s away from you, the want for your presence grows within him like some sort of hunger. yet, it’s now laced with the craving to feel your touch.

his mind is generous in being able to envision you beneath him, body trembling with arousal as his touch travels your bare skin, admiring and caressing every inch of you. all of his senses are ablaze; the craving for your touch, voice, scent, everything becoming too much for even someone of his stature to endure.

shaking away these thoughts is much more of a challenge than magnus would first anticipate. but now that he’s come to this self discovery, he doesn’t want to waste anymore time merely thinking about it.

sanguinius

while sanguinius is the more compassionate of the primarchs when it comes to overall personality, don’t let that fool you. when this man gets down, he’s an absolute freak.

on a serious note, the one thing sanguinius loves is spoiling you, on all levels, of course. but he just has a little bit of extra fun when he gets to do it to you physically. he does love when you return the favor, but if he’s being completely honest he likes it more when he gets to please you.

when he’s with you in an ordinary setting, he doesn’t let his more “sinful” thoughts take over. out of many of his siblings, he is certainly one of the most restrained and can control himself when it comes to feelings such as these. one of the lucky ones, he supposes.

but despite being able to hide it, you do make it quite difficult at times. it can be anything that triggers that burning within him—the way you unsuspectingly bat your eyelashes when you stare at him, or when you look so bashful when he greets you with a kiss on your hand. or even when you accidentally brush up against one of his wings. and you aren’t even aware you do so much to him physically…

yet there’s not much that gets him going quite like the thought of driving you absolutely mad with pleasure (much like fulgrim if we’re being honest here). whether it’s the thought of how you’d react to his head in between your thighs until your legs tremble uncontrollably, or how pretty you’d sound when he drains just the slightest bit of blood from your tender neck…

sometimes he’s left heavy-breathed at the thought, and you’re not even in the same room as him. if only you were aware of the effects you had on him. though, something inside sanguinius felt as though it wouldn’t be a mystery for much longer.

mortarion

believe it or not, mortarion is not a total stranger to these kinds of thoughts. though, it’s much more intensified since you’re the only person he’s had these thoughts about.

with mortarion being one of the more distant and reserved of his brothers, his sex drive is one of those things he’s never had to deal with since he’s never felt this way about anyone else before. so it’s no surprise how easily pent up he can become.

even just the slightest things you do can get him electrified, and the poor, touch and affection-starved soul doesn’t even fully understand why. the way you smiled at him with genuine fondness from a distance the other day? he’s still thinking about it for weeks. the way your hand gently brushed against his face by mistake? still has him reeling even when he’s in your presence.

the way his thoughts of you overwhelm him is far from easy to deal with, and you immediately notice the way his behavior changes in response to these newer sensations.

it’s so much worse when he’s away from you for long periods of time, though. his mind is racing with everything from how beautiful you would look tied up in various positions; the imprints of rope staining your soft skin, to what sweet sounds he could get you to make in response to his mouth in between your legs.

his poor legionaries when they have to deal with him in this state…he’s so helplessly tuned out from everything and they have not a clue what’s going on with their primarch. but he won’t have to worry much longer, for he’ll be venting his sexual frustrations out on you when you’re both reunited.

horus lupercal (pre-heresy)

honestly, what doesn’t horus think about when he’s thinking about you? not many people can make his mind wander to even the most dangerous of places like you can. while he isn’t sure how this all started, he is far from complaining. honestly, what doesn’t horus think about when he’s thinking about you? not many people can make his mind wander to even the most dangerous of places like you can. while he isn’t sure how this all started, he is far from complaining.

the way he is around you is his usual self, but his thoughts about you aren’t restrained in the slightest. you’re so captivating, and while he wants to hang on every word you say to him, he can’t help but fantasize in the process.

horus doesn’t expect you to have a very strong effect on him at first, yet he’s proved wrong very quickly when he’s away from you. when he’s finally alone is when it hits him.

he thinks about how much he’d love it if he had you all to himself. he could imagine spoiling you in every way imaginable, but especially physically. he could imagine all the noises he could cause you to make, and all of the sensations he could make you feel. but most of all, he could imagine breeding you—filling you up with his seed to where you know that you’re his.

from there, you’re the cause of all of horus’ sleepless nights until he gets to see you again…

[emswritingsstuff]

How about a Daryl Dixon x male!reader fic where they’re already dating but because of Daryl’s upbringing, he was scared of openly being with the reader and it takes someone else flirting with the reader for Daryl to be like “Fuck off, he’s my man” (with Rick being the most supportive ofc because I support their brotherly bond)

i had so much fun with this. i got a little carried away with this request but i was ITCHING to add relationship lore, so i did. hope you enjoy!!

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Charming Man (Daryl Dixon x Male! Reader)

Slight Warnings: Unsupportive family, Daryl's dad mentioned, Homophobia, nothing explicit but it's there!

WC: 3.2K

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Your relationship with Daryl Dixon was something that even caught you by surprise. You’ve both known each other since everything started, meeting at the Quarry. If you were being honest with yourself, you’d always had a thing for Daryl. Even if he did seem to be the stereotypical rude and offensive redneck. 

Daryl wasn’t like that though, the exact opposite actually. But Merle Dixon on the other hand? He totally was. You never hid your identity, what was the point of that anymore? There's no harm in it, people have bigger issues than gay people nowadays. But unfortunately, Merle always made sure to get a rude comment in. But it was always met by a big slap or hit from Daryl. Which would then cause Merle to turn the ridicule onto Daryl, which you hated. But he took it like a champ so you didn’t have to, which you admired a lot. Defending someone you barely knew like that? It was oddly attractive to you. But you pushed that down, not wanting to create more unwanted tension within yourself. 

After Merle's disappearance, Daryl seemed to shift. You’d found him getting closer to you, emotionally and physically. It made you happy to see him finally open up, it just sucked that he had to lose his brother to let it happen.  

Just observing him, you had also realized that when he was angry or frustrated with the group he would confine in you. It seemed like you had some sort of spell on him, which you definitely got in your own head about. 

It took the Greene farm falling for you to eventually come to terms with the fact you liked him more than in a platonic sense. You had escaped with Rick and the whole ride to the highway you were scared you weren’t going to see Daryl again. What if he separated from the group? What if he didn’t make it out at all? All the thoughts raced in your head. Then it hit you and you realized that you were in too deep.

You loved him. 

Hearing the familiar sound of the bike filled you with an indescribable feeling, one of joy but also nervousness. You felt your heart flutter when you saw him again. You stood back in the group, letting him greet the others. Getting lost in your head you didn’t even notice the strong figure that put his arms around you, holding you tight for a second before letting go to get a look at you. 

“Happy to see ya, tough guy,” Daryl said with a smirk on his face. Giving you a light pat on your back he walked away, leaving you frozen and a blushing mess. You had prayed no one saw you in that state and it seemed to be luck was on your side with that. 

The feelings only grew and grew, there was no chance they were going to stop anytime soon. 

Once taking the prison, Rick started to assign watch shifts within the group, most of the time you had got night shifts. Which you didn’t mind at all, more peaceful you thought. Though every time you had a moment of peace, Daryl plagued your thoughts. With no doubt you were absolutely whooped for this man. 

During one of your shifts, you had gotten lost in thought again, this time just thinking about the past. Missing the old world, in the sense that you didn’t like fighting for your life every single day. You had gotten snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a jingling sound approaching you, quickly turning around only to be met with Daryl himself. 

“Hey,” he moved his chin up when he greeted you, crossbow in hand. You did the gesture back and looked out into the distance, trying to act like you were actually watching. But you could never focus when he was around, all you wanted to do was look at him. Look at his strong arms, his face, his shoulders, God you just wanted to look at him all day. 

A soft tap on your shoulder brought you back to the real world, it was Daryl offering you a piece of meat. Probably leftovers from dinner, you happily took a small piece and ate it. “Thanks, appreciate it,” you smiled at him. 

“Don’ mention it, figure ya wanted somethin’. Ya been up here while,” A subtle redness hit your face. You knew he cared, but to come up to you on his own time meant a lot to you. When he stayed there afterward, you decided to at least try and talk, at least have sort of a conversation. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” You looked up at him, he wasn’t even looking at you but he just shrugged in response. “Can’t sleep in a cell, tha’s for sure,” 

“Agreed, too cramped, also cold and gross.” That made him chuckle under his breath, you mentally high fived yourself but quickly got off your high horse and continued the conversation. 

“It reminds me of my old man, hate thinkin’ about his ass all the damn time,” He was messing with his thumb, he probably felt awkward bringing it up. But you listened. 

You had known a little bit about Daryl’s father, nothing super detailed but you knew he wasn’t a good man. You sometimes caught glimpses of the scars his shirt couldn’t cover, so you just put two and two together. 

“Whats yer history? Barely know anythin’ about ya.” He pointed at you and he invited you to speak, but only if you wanted to. Which you appreciated. You took a deep breath and decided to tell him, what's the harm in that? 

“Grew up in Georgia, both my parents were around and I had a sister. Parents worked good jobs, treated us well. Or at least up until I came out to them. Treated me like an outsider ever since. Not the no contact type either, the type where they won’t admit I’m gay and sweep it under the rug,” You said the last portion with a shrug, it hurts to think about sometimes but it's far away in the past now. Daryl shook his head, “Tha’s some bullshit, why the hell they’d care?”

All you could do was shrug again, “Judgment I guess, my parents didn’t want to be the ones with the ‘gay son’. Or whatever. Stopped caring about it after I moved out.” He nodded along and smacked your shoulder playfully. “Good shit.” 

It got silent after that, you had hoped you didn’t make anything awkward. Which you obviously haven’t. The smell of smoke filled your lungs as you looked over to see Daryl nursing a cigarette, you finally let yourself watch him, just absolutely getting lost within him. But quickly turning away as he looked right back at you. 

He’d looked nervous now, which was very unlike him. Once the cigarette was out, he turned to look at you again. “Can I ask ya somethin’, and ya can’t judge,” 

“Never would, whats up,” a nervous pit welled up in your stomach, you hoped he couldn’t see the sweaty palms you had equipped. 

“Is askin’ out a guy the same as a girl?” Okay, maybe you were going to judge a little. You tried to hold back a laugh, but Daryl saw right through you. “C’mon ya said ya wouldn’t judge, answer the damn question.” 

You had calmed down and you were finally able to answer, “Depends on the guy but yes, you just sometimes got to be prepared for the worst case.” He nodded in response. 

“So, If I were to ask ya out right now, I wouldn’t get punched?” The meaning of his words didn’t process in your brain until you started responding. “Well no, I certainly wouldn’t punch-” you cut yourself off and looked at him in the eyes.

“Are you serious?” The butterflies that lived in your stomach were back with a vengeance, making you feel like you're on cloud nine. Daryl nodded a simple yes and you took the opportunity to play into the joke. 

“If you were to ask me out, I would say yes,” and there it is. The start of your relationship with the archer. 

It was casual at first, hanging out one on one in privacy, eating dinner together, going out on runs, all the simple things in an apocalypse context. When you both realized you really wanted this to work, you both had a discussion on the boundaries you both had. Daryl's main one being about being out. 

He had issues with his identity in the past, with his father and Merle, you knew he would be scared to be his authentic self so you understood. And you didn’t want to pressure him especially when all these feelings were so new to him. 

Once the prison fell, you had lost Daryl in the mess. Ending up with Carol and Tyreese, as well as Judith. You were unsure what had happened to the two little girls Carol had started to take care of, but you had known it probably wasn’t anything good. And finding out everyone in your group had been taken to a cannibal farm made your stomach drop. 

Thinking you had lost Daryl was a continuous feeling, he’d run off to do things for everyone and sometimes getting hurt in the process. It made you stressed, but without a doubt he would always come home to you. He kind of reminded you of an outside dog or cat, which you would tell him and he’d just push you off chuckling to himself. 

Seeing his strong figure again after being separated made you emotional, bringing you to tears. He was crying too, but trying not to show it off to everyone else. His arms engulfed you in a massive hug keeping you there for what felt like an eternity, but what was probably a few seconds. The reunion of the group was very short lived, you all needing to get on the road again to fully escape Terminus. 

The months on the road were long and hard, you all were praying for a break. And it seemed to come true when Aaron showed up. Inviting you all to Alexandria, you had felt a weight lifted off of your shoulders. Everyone was of course off put by this offer, but eventually realized they were legit. 

Finally having a place to call home, you had gotten all your belongings settled into the shared house. You were unsure where Daryl was going to go, but you wished he would share a room with you. Sighing, you walked out of the house to see Daryl messing with his crossbow, looking harshly at it when he injured himself. 

His expression softened when he saw you though, and he silently greeted you before going back to the crossbow. You made a spot beside him and sat in front of him, just wanting to have some familiar company in this new place. Suddenly remembering the party Deanna was going to have for you all tonight. You figured Daryl wouldn’t want to go, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask him. 

“You want to go to that party at Deanna’s tonight? It would be nice I think,” He just shrugged in response. “Not my thing,” was his response, not even looking up from his bow. Your head looking away caused him to look up at you, “Ya want me to go?” 

“It would be nice, a good opportunity. But I know you aren't going to have fun socializing,” He just scoffed and smirked at you. “I’ll go for ya, but only for ya,” his hand moved from his bow to point at you with a joking scold. You just softly laughed and squeezed him arm with your hand. “Thanks, love you.” 

“Love ya too,” he smiled up at you as you went to leave. Pausing quickly to get one more word in, “Oh, wear something nice, and shower.” Shooting a smirk directly his way, he leaned his head back and rolled his eyes. 

“First Carol, and now ya?” You simply shrugged and walked away. Leaving him on the porch until the party. 

When you started to get ready you heard a soft knock on your door, creeping the door open to be met with Daryl. Surprisingly already prepared to go, dressed up in a black button up, his vest, and a nice pair of jeans. The whole outfit screamed Daryl. Your eyes looked at him lovingly, and he grinned at you. “Like what ya see?” he said as he let himself into the room. 

“A lot actually,” he placed a soft kiss to the top of your head as you continued to get ready. Throwing on a button up shirt and a pair of khaki pants, clothes you had gotten from the resources at Alexandria. Giving Daryl a spin, you showed him your outfit “Lookin’ handsome.” He winked at you and walked over to give you a quick kiss on the lips before officially heading to the party. 

The walk to Deanna’s was nice, it felt like everything was normal again. It was quiet though, Daryl was clearly thinking about something, chalking it up to him not being sure about Alexandria yet. 

Once there Daryl hesitated to go inside, it took you physically dragging him by the side to even get him to the door. Grumbles left his mouth before you opened the door to let yourselves in, only to be immediately overwhelmed by all the people. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea,” you mumbled so only Daryl could hear. He patted your back softly and left to grab a beer and probably hide in a corner, which you had debated doing yourself. 

But you ended up chatting with Noah, making nice conversation. Never really getting the opportunity to meet and talk to him before. It was really nice. Until one of the Alexandrian women came up to you both, she obviously had some intentions that you really couldn’t read. 

Whatever, you thought, maybe she just wanted to be friendly? That's what you were hoping at least. You and Noah both exchanged awkward glaces, just looking wide eyed at each other as she kept trying to pull your attention without even saying a word.

Right as you were about to say something, she had beat you to the punch. “You’re quite the sight, pretty boy, what’s your name?” The pet name made you gag, but on the inside as it felt rude to physically do it in front of her. “Oh uh, I’m (Y/N), and this is Noah,” as soon as you finished speaking her hand shot up to shoo you. You were taken aback and looked at Noah again, still wide eyed. 

“I don’t care about him, I just wanna talk to you,” she said, pointing her finger at you and touching your face. Still looking at Noah, you were speechless. You had no clue what to say, genuinely. Mind went totally blank. You had looked behind you to see Daryl standing in the corner of the room eyeing up the situation you were in. A subtle head tilt from you was enough he needed to spring to action. 

Making his why over he stopped right beside you looking between you and the woman. “What’s goin’ on?” he asked, looking right at you. You went to speak but the woman soon spoke up for you, “Just getting to know the new guy,” Daryl nodded his head looking back at you again picking up on your uncomfortable body language. 

She then went to touch your arm, trying to get a feel for you. At this point Daryl officially understood what was actually happening and he shot to grab her arm. “Not gonna happen, don’t touch him,” his voice was deep and stern and getting the attention of everyone surrounding you guys. 

The woman quickly pulled her arm away and scoffed. “Why not? It’s not like he’s here with anyone. I just wanna have some fun,” she said in a sly tone making you want to gag again. You could see on Daryl’s he was fuming, preparing to hear what he was going to say next. 

“Jus’ fuck off, he’s my man,” he said, quite loud in fact. Louder than anything else he had said that night. That was definitely something you were not expecting him to say in front of everyone. And he wasn’t either because as soon as he said it, he walked out with your hand in his. Storming out and slamming the door leaving everyone there in shock. 

“Okay, what the hell was that Dixon?” he was breathing heavily and trying to calm down with his outburst. His hands met his face as he wiped his eyes, finally calming down. “I don’ know, I jus’, had to finally say it.” A smile creeped up to your face and you put your hands on the side of his head. “I’m glad you did,” kissing him on the lips gently. You both made the choice to go home, just to relax for the rest of the night before the interrogations start tomorrow. 

It was the first night Daryl had slept in bed with you since the prison and it felt nice. Though the next morning Daryl was gone early, you had assumed he had gone out hunting so you just ready for the day and left the home. Only to be surprised by Daryl and Rick having a conversation on the porch. Rick noticed you and immediately walked over and engulfed you in a massive hug. Shooting a glance over to Daryl, he had just laughed. 

“Just wanted to tell you both that I was happy for you guys, glad to see Daryl and you are happy together,” you gave Rick a genuine smile and another hug, this one more emotional than the other one. It felt good to be fully supported in your relationship from people so close to you.  The hug separated and he went on to ask you generic questions like how long you both have been together, when it happened, he wanted to know it all. Which was very heartwarming and it made you feel giddy. 

After a while, Rick had left because he had to do work elsewhere. Leaving you and Daryl on the porch by yourselves. You look over at him, “how are you feeling?” 

Looking back at you, he smiled more than he had before, “Fuckin’ great.” He grabbed your head and placed kisses all over your face. He stopped and quickly reached into his pocket, pulling out two chains with rings on them. He held them out to you letting you pick between a silver and a gold one. You picked the one you liked the most and examined it closely. 

“What's this?” gesturing toward the necklace in your hand. “Necklace, was tryin’ to find promise rings but that all I found. Assumed they didn’t fit so put ‘em on chains.” He explained this like it was no big deal, but to you this was the whole world. 

“Promise rings?” you asked, happy tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

“Yeah, wanna marry ya one day. And I wan’ everyone to know yer mine.” After he spoke he pulled you into a sweet kiss. Making you the happiest man ever.