#im tired of hiding in the shadows

[lxnarphase]

where’s my toji spit kink fans at…

[mephiles-the-jester]

its 12am for me and i have many thoughts about this au where i just traumatise two older sibling sonic characters (and make metal a transgirl dating amy)

[lennydark]

So…. I actually worked a lot end of year. Anyone here ever done five twelve hour shifts then follow it up with 6 sixteen hour shifts? Ever been told you get a break but then it just doesn’t happen.

Here are my most listened to songs through this whole thing

Day 1: You say run (rock version) Day 2: Heartbeat failing by Dead by April Day 3: Dot Your Eyes by Five Finger Death Punch Day 4: XOXO (kisses hugs) by 6arleyhuman Day 5: Caffeine  by jeff Williams Day 6: Kill or be killed by New Years Day Day 7: The Cult of Dionysus by The Orion Experience Day 8: Riot by Hollywood Undead Day 9: Flatline by Blind Channel Day 10: Rage by MoonDiety Day 11: Blissful Overdose  by Sewerslvt

I would have had to do more work but I was just minding my own business and suddenly the floor and the ceiling switched places. I slept the last three days.

[etubrutebae]

Worst thing abt shadowing in an emotionally charged setting is that mourners try to touch you

[rollingeevee]

Wait if we have the Beasts bites what about Anciens?

Maybe in AU where they also corrupted or smth like that, how would their bites be like? (Ofc u don’t have to answer that im just dumping my ideas here xd)

I actually think I have an ask about Ancients somewhere else in my ask box that I plan to answer soon (they don’t have a bite but they do have smth similar in a way) but you specifically mentioned corrupted Ancients. And that inspired me… SO HAVE A TRUTHLESS RECLUSE X READER ONESHOT! MUAHAHAHA

Warnings: A lil suggestive?

“Pure Vanilla, please!” You begged your lover. “Our friends need our help! I don’t understand how you can just sit here and refuse to acknowledge that!”

Pure Vanilla, or Truthless Recluse as he’d renamed himself, remained silent. He stared intently at you, a gaze that used to be so warm and filled with care and life, now reduced to tired, intimidating darkness.

As you pleaded with the one you adored so dearly, fallen to Deceit, his mind swam with thoughts. Shadow Milk had allowed your stay in the Spire with him for a reason yet unknown to you. But the reason was becoming apparent to Pure Vanilla. Shadow Milk knew of the relationship between the two of you, and he knew that with corruption now plaguing the Truthless Recluse’s heart, it would only be a matter of time before the once compassionate Cookie found himself overcome with that Beastly urge to bite. And Shadow Milk, ever the lover of theatrics, wanted to see the once so pure Cookie give into his new, corrupted urges. To embrace the inner Beast that he knew lay dormant within.

He was taken out of his thoughts when you announced that, if he wouldn’t help you, you would find and help the young Cookies on your own. He seemed to snap to life at that declaration.

His arms were around you before you could reach the door, pulling, almost yanking, you back into the depths of the room Shadow Milk had provided for him. You turned to face him with a scowl. “Pure Vanilla, let me go!”

“Stay.” Was his only response, though it was more of a command than anything. His tone had lost the warmth you’d come to know and love from it, replaced by a cool, possessive rumble from deep within his chest that seemed to vibrate your entire body.

Your expression became desperate. “Please, my love…” your voice was quiet and despairing. “Please… let me go… or come with me… I cannot allow Shadow Milk to torment those poor children who have done so much to help you… to help us…”

His grip tightened. “You’re not going anywhere.” He asserted.

“Pure Vanilla-”

“Don’t leave me…” His voice was but a whisper this time, far less oppressive and dominating than his previously issued orders. Almost… vulnerable. You felt a spark of longing familiarity in your heart. You raised your eyes to look into his own. Those tired, beaten eyes shimmered with anguish and a helpless need for your presence. Pure Vanilla was still in there… somewhere… buried deep, surely, but he was there.

With soft eyes, you turned your body to face his and wrapped your arms around him in a hug. He nuzzled his face against the top of your head, nose buried in your hair. He sat down upon his bed, dragging you down to straddle his lap so that he could hide his face in the crook of your neck. As he breathed in your scent, the muscles of his body seemed to relax. It was another glimpse of the Pure Vanilla you knew and loved, further solidifying your belief that the Cookie you adored still existed amongst the corruption. But your focus on this caused you to fail to catch the feeling of his lips twitching against your dough.

What little was left of Pure Vanilla in the corrupted cookie urged him to stay calm. To resist. But Truthless Recluse could no longer fight the urge to bare his new fangs…

You heard your lover suck in a breath through his parting teeth. His body was tense again, now feeling akin to a predator poised to strike. Before you could figure out what was about to happen, he sank them into your soft dough with a hiss. You cried out as the area was flooded with a chilling cold that quickly spread throughout your body like a potent venom. You felt him exhale through his nose in what seemed like relief, the urge that had been gnawing at him since he fell into Deceit finally sated. You weakly whined as he swiped his tongue across the fresh mark that seemed to pulse with magic, unable to move as he pulled you so close that there was no longer any space between your bodies.

“All mine…”

[grughoul]

Not sure if this is where we can send in requests but you write so beautifully I truly cannot get over it.

Would it be possible to request a smut fic with Viktor from Arcane? Either way cannot wait to read your next fics 🩵

You really found the way to my heart with your kind words because I immediately had to write something for you🥹 I intended for it to be shorter, but it got away from me. I hope you like it!

Keeping Him Company

Pairings: Viktor x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: Viktor is still getting used to solitude after Jayce started down the public road.

So when you offer to keep him company, he gladly takes you up on it.

Wordcount: 3k

Warnings: fluff, angst ish, friends to lovers, pinv sex, cowgirl, oral sex (f receiving), feelings, plot with porn.

AN: Viktor is not a shy man, and I will die on that hill😭

"Dont you wish to be up there with him?"

Light spilled through a gap in the tall curtains, partly illuminating a man in hiding.

"It is not my within my talent," he said and slanted his lips, a thick accent curving his pronunciation.

The girl approached him, walking along the shadows edge. She was clad in a red and white ensamble, mirroring his own. "Everything is within your talent."

Casting a wistful glance at his leg, he doubted her words. "A simple misscalculation, im afraid. He shines, I do not . . ."

Booming from mighty speakers was the man of progress, holding a speech in front of thousands of people. The brief breaks to collect his breath allowed for them to hear the audience's reaction, and the collective whispers of expectant folk rolled through the crowd in waves.

She stopped next to him, hands clasped infront of her. "You're uninterested in the attention." She pitched her voice at the end, framing the statement as a question. Suspecting she already knew the answer.

"I do not enjoy it," he shrugged. "I prefer the practical part of our work."

"The solitude?"

He looked up at her, having had to sit down at some point during their conversation. The promise of dark circles had begun taking form beneath his eyes, painting a tired look onto his face.

"Hmm . . . The quiet if anything, I think. I've found myself in solitude more often than not since Jayce started handling the . . . public aspects," he explained and gestured broadly with one hand, encompassing the local. The entirety Piltover too, she imagined.

"You're happy with that?"

Bobbing his head from side to side, he could not agree nor disagree. "I like quiet, but I prefer the company. Jayce makes good company."

"Well," she began and reached out to him, pinching a piece of wild hair between her fingertips and arranged it back into shape with the rest of his dark waves. "If you find yourself in unwanted solitude, you can always send for me, Viktor. If nothing else, I might be able to help in the lab," she smiled. It was her specialty, after all.

They'd been friends since they enrolled in the academy, but learning under Heimerdinger rarely allowed them time to see eachother.

Straightening his cane, he heaved himself back on his feet.

She would offer him help, but knew it wouldn't be too appreciated.

Leaning on the support, the stream of light escaping the stage colored his face and set it aglow with warmth. "Thank you, . . ." he called her name and smiled. "I might do that."

He was a strong mind in a blighted body. The brightest often were.

-

It was late the next day when she'd gotten a message from Viktor.

Pushing the tall door open, the setting sun painted the spacious workroom in a dim golden light. On first inspection, one could've thought it abandoned. Books were strewn on every available surface, opened or stacked. Dust had already managed to settle on a few, and she guessed that they'd been deemed irrelevant to the two men's work at some point, then simply forgotten to time and unpaced space. "Viktor?" She called out.

"Over here," a thick accent answered. Venturing further inside, she found him by the colossal windows that held a view Piltover. To the side was a blackboard with rows upon rows of calculations. "Please, take a seat." He smiled and gestured toward one of the few chairs that were free of piling notes. "I'd like to show you what I have been working on."

-

And so the evening spilled into dusk, and dusk poured into night. There was nothing now but the dark sky and starlight illuminating the two of them.

"It is not correct," he tapped the chalk against the board and sighed, highlighting a specific problem to her eyes. He'd asked for her thoughts at some point, and ever since the two had been going back and forth trying to solve one particularly stubborn equation.

Settling down on the chair that she had long abandoned, Viktor wrapped his hands over the cane's handle and rested his chin on top. Exhausted eyes studied the same scribbles he'd gone over and over a hundred times before.

In unisome, they sighed.

Knowing glances were thrown each other's way, luring a chuckle from the both of them and gratefully releasing some of their tension. "Thank you, for lending me your mind this evening."

Pursing her lips, she moved in front of him and settled against the worktable. He was still facing the board, pondering the solution, and allowing her to look at him unabashedly. The strong jaw and sharp cheekbones, that pretty little mole above his lip and his perfectly half-wild hair. "I had a good time," she shrugged. "I should be the one thanking you." Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on that angled cheekbone of his. "So, thank you, Viktor," she murmured.

Pushing herself to her feet, she reached out to grab her things, then moved to leave.

But a hand grabbed her wrist before she had the chance. "Thank you for keeping me company, . . ." Viktor said, voice sliding lower with each word until her name spilled from his lips in a whisper.

Her eyes switched between his, attempting to determine if there was an ulterior meaning his words. Looking down at their hands, she noticed his thumb stroking the thin skin at her wrist. Clearing her throat, she swallowed. "You didn't invite me here just to theorise, did you, Viktor?"

He followed her gaze and inspected the hand he held in his. "I like the quiet," he said, gently toying with her fingers. Running along their length, he absentmindedly bent and straightened them as he carefully thought about the next words to leave his lips. "But it seems, I prefer you." His fingers slid between her own, lacing them together.

Stepping closer to him, she cupped the sharp angles of his cheek. Giving him no other choice then to look up at her with those big, rounded eyes. "Are you telling me I'm loud?" She teased.

"No," Viktor smirked and let his cane slip to the floor, prioritising holding her hips. "But I would like to find out." He put pressure behind his hands, pushing her back onto the tabletop behind her. "Take those off, please." He nodded his chin at her suitpants, then leaned back in his chair.

Smiling, she did as asked and a little bit more, leaving her in nothing but her undergarments.

His eyes trailed over her body, along the curves of her breasts and lace covered mound. Without a word, he moved the chair to face her, hands sliding up her calfs until they hooked beneath her knees and pulled her to the edge of the table.

"Viktor, you don't have to-" she began, rather putting in work for both of them so he could avoid further strain on his body.

But desperate to be of use, to do it himself, he insisted. "I want to," he assured, wrapping a hand around the back of her thigh and squeezed. "Please . . . Let me."

Hesitantly, she nodded her head in compact motions. Willing to please him, but needing him to please her more.

Placing one hand behind her, she braced her weight against the table while her other hand brushed stray strands from his eyes. Combing it back, she burried her fingers in his thick waves. "Okay," she whispered.

What followed was a satisfied smirk and an eager lips trailing kisses along her inner thigh. He made quick work of her panties, then paused. Looking up, brown irises locked with her own as he hovered an inch from her heat. Then suddenly burried his face between her thighs before she'd gotten a second to breathe.

"Fuck-" she moaned, head falling back in bliss as Viktor worked his glorious wonders. An experienced tongue thrust into her core and lapped at her wetness, closing his eyes and humming throughout as if tasting heaven itself. "You taste very sweet, darling," he murmured against her, damp breath fanning against her core and sending shivers up her spine, doing nothing but further spurr her arousal on.

Sinking his teeth into the flesh of her inner thigh, he looked up at her, finding the entire city at her back, framing her exalted form. Behind her quivering shoulders ran the horizon, the night sky painting her into a saint as it formed like a halo around her head. Watching her heaving chest and panthing mouth was enough to make a man believe in powers greater than science.

And he wouldnt relent, when seeing the reaction his mere tongue could cause. He couldn't give her mercy, and he could not give her another second to collect herself lest her climax strayed too far away.

Without warning, he slid his tongue up her folds, collecting her arousal only to swallow with groan. Before she could gasp, he'd already slipped back between her thighs. Aternating between soft kisses and gentle nipping, he turned her into a whimpering mess. In a final act, he latched onto her clit, sucking and circling with fervour. Tears of pleasure rolled down her cheeks as her fingers curled into a fist, pulling on his hair as she held on for dear life.

But all he did was whine from her taste and the pressure on his scalp, whine from the growing unpleasantry in his pants as he devoured his dinner and licked his plate clean. "Pretty," he murmued, and she opened her eyes to look at him.

One quivering body- and an arched back later, she laid back against the tabletop, fighting hard to catch her breath.

Looking back, she glimpsed Piltover. She saw thousands of lights illuminating homes, she saw the sky and the glimmering stars. But she couldn't be sure if it was reality or hallucinations of eyes recovering from a tumultuous orgasm.

Moving up, she braced on her forearms, surveying Viktor's own state. He'd circled his arms around her calves and laid his head in the valley between her thighs, kissing and whispering sweet nothings against her skin. Thumbs stroked soothing circles into her plush flesh whenever his mind reminded him. "Thank you," he whispered and kissed her. "Thank you," he repeated over and over again.

"Thank me when we're done," she exhaled, adoring the way his reaction to making her come was gratitude, for letting him bring her to completion. "Chair or bed?" She asked, already planning their next endeavour. "I want to please you too."

Blinking, he considered. An uncertain smile twitching in the corner of his lips. "Our rooms are far," he murmured, glancing down at his leg. Self-consciousness was never something he displayed, never did he complain or bring it up. In his mind, he wanted to prove that there was nothing wrong with him, that he could withstand and surpass.

Although she understood, although she empathized with him, she did not see the need. A dent in a machine did not change its capability, but it could bump the risk of deterioration. "We all need help sometimes, Viktor," she combed through his hair, scratching and brushing his scalp in turns. Sliding a finger down his face, she placed it beneath his chin, tilting his face to meet hers. "Some hardships are more visible than others, but that should not affect the view people have of you. It certainly won't affect mine," she whispered and brushed her thumb along his upper lip, fingertip gently dotting the mole above, and then followed his cheekbone up to his temble. "But, it's your decision, whatever you're comfortable with," she assured, rubbing circles into his temple.

Burrying his face in her thigh, he sighed and nodded, untamed hair scratching her skin pleasantly. "Yes." Viktor sat back and reached for her hands, clasping them in his own. "My room it is," he smiled and kissed up her knuckles, palm and wrist.

-

She'd never been sure if the professor's assistant got a fancier room then the other students. But standing inside it, she could confirm it was bigger at the very least.

"We were outside of the workshop when miss Medarda found us," Viktor explained as he closed the door behind them.

"No! What did she say?" She snickered, eager to hear the following as shd vetured into his room, examining some of the knicks and knacks he had laying around.

Leaning on his cane, he scrathed his chin. "I do not remember," he said, and then a blush rose to his cheeks, staining them a pretty, pale red. "I believe I paniced and told the councillor that I had gotten the rooms wrong."

Raising an eyebrow, she sauntered back to him, already questioning how the story would end. "And which room was that?" She asked, toying with his collar.

Viktor cleared his throat. "Jayce's," he chuckled, thumb rubbing the handle of his cane. "Miss Medarda had little trust in my excuse."

Her lips pulled into a thin line as she met his eyes, making a worthy attempt at with-holding her laughter. "At least it turned out well in the end," she managed, fingers working to unlace his west as she backed toward the bed, pulling him with her.

"Yes," he said and re-removed her shirt, getting the satisfaction of pulling it over her head this time. "I would like to think so."

Sliding his west down his shoulders, she began unbuttoning the red fabric beneath, where she found another piece of his engineering. She traced the clever contraption with wonder. Softly admiring the skill and ingenuity he'd put into it.

Looking up to ask him about it, she found his expression close to discomfort. He looked vulnerable, like it was a piece of himself he rarely showed anyone else unless he had to.

Smiling softly, she met his gaze with a slanted head. "It's crafted brilliantly," she recognized his hard work while studying the detailing. "It's a-"

"Brace." There was note of resignation in his tone. "My back, it is . . ." He trailed off, looking away.

She sighed silently, hating that he couldn't see his own beauty the way she did. "It's beautiful, Viktor. Truly. It suits you." She ran a finger along the strap over his shoulder. "We can keep the shirt if you'd prefer it."

"No," he said and began taking the shirt off, struggling as he only had one available hand. Sensing irritation, she cupped his jaw, gathering his attention. She watched his face soften, honoured by his trust in her. Then brushed her hands down his throat and shoulders, tracing his collarbone before sliding over his shoulders and beanth the fabric, helping it fall to the floor. Viktor turned them around and moved onto to bed without another word.

She smiled to herself, instantly shy by his sudden confidence. Crawling after him, she straddled his lap, careful not to put too much weight on his leg.

"I am not ready, to . . . Remove the other, yet," he murmured, no longer as resigned when talking about his condition. "I am afraid the pants must stay on, for the moment."

"Thats okay," she nodded softly, connecting their foreheads. "I don't mind." She placed her hands on his chest, feeling his skin beneath her palms. She brushed them down his arms until she found his hands and laced them together with her own, and her lips inched closer to his.

For a while, they settled in this new position. Simply enjoying the moment of newfound feelings and fragility, inhaling one another's scent and sharing the air between them.

Viktor tilted his head to the side, moving closer until their mouths were ghosts upon the other. With parted lips, he crept ever closer, patiently testing the waters. Then, softly, they closed around her bottom lip. With a unified exhale, she kissed him back. She could very faintly taste herself on him.

Together, they could focus on nothing but the softness of the other and the frequency of their breaths. When their lust filled lungs could no longer expell air through their mouths, their noses had to take up the slack. Somehow, adding on to the intimacy between them. In this second in time, they were two souls with lungs filling of emotion, ramping up the speed in which they needed to act.

With no other way for the feelings to go, the eagerness in their lips had to carry them out.

Laced together, she moved his hands to her body, giving him free range to wander while her own traveled downward and found the buttons of his pants. "Is this still alright?" She murmured in-between kisses.

"Yes, please," he answered, his own hands undoing her bra. Then there suddenly was the sound of skin on skin as he slid his hands back around her ribs and cupped her breasts.

With a gasp from his touch, she got the buttons open. Reaching down, she pulled his member out.

He'd been fully hard since they'd left the workshop, and intending to finally put him out of his misery, she spread the pre-cum leaking from his tip and circled it gently. Earning her a soft whimper.

Placing one hand on his chest, she lined him up with the other. Pushing him back against the bed and quickly followed suit herself, wetting the tip in her core.

"Please," he begged, hands moving to cup her face, pulling her back for another kiss. "Please." He introduced their tongues and let them explore each other's mouths. Finally, she carefully slid down his length. Resulting in a shprt break from their kiss through the unisome gasp.

As she began to move, to rut her her hips into his. The kiss became needier and needier until their teeth were clashing and breathing rapid.

She angled her hips so her clit could be stimulated against his mound. She released a breathless whimper at the sensation, but earned a twitch from the member inside her and a grin from the man beneath her. "Glorious woman," he moaned, moving to kiss her jaw and neck. His hands slipping from her face to her hips and ass, squeezing and encouraging her ruts with help from his wrists.

From the several points of pleasure he made for her, she was already closing in on her second orgasm. Straightening up, she put both hands on his chest and used him as support to move in longer bounds around his inches. "That alright?" She asked, imagining nothing worse than to cause him

"Yes, y-yes. Mmh . . . M' close," he managed. Observing her on top of him did nothing to ease the matter, and he hissed from what his thoughts of her alone could muster.

Grinding down harder, jolts of electricity shot through her body. Their combined sounds of pleasure along with the sensations they caused had them both close to their limit.

Closing her eyes, the night sky began forming beneath her eyeslids. Her entire body felt much the same, static sizzled in every nerve as the pressure came close to releasing.

"Look at me," Viktor said with a breathless voice. Fingers clawing at her back and waist with a non existent sharpness.

Taking a deep breath she closed the distance between them once again, and opened her eyes.

This time, she could see the stars reflected in his eyes. His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, bringing her head against his, and allowed their lips to meet one last time before they spilled over the edge. Viktor quite literally, as he filled her up with his seed.

With no strength left in her body, she collapsed. Yet, still taking care to place her weight on her side rather than his torso, along with her legs settling between his rather than on top.

"Thank you," he whispered, lips finding her temple as she rested next to him. "For keeping me company."

"It was my pleasure, Viktor," she chuckled. "I hope we can do it again."

"Yes, I would like that," he nodded. "I really care for you, . . ." He whispered her name. "I think, perhaps-"

"I care for you too," she stopped him. "Let's let things happen in their own time, okay?"

"Okey," he smiled, scratching her nape.

As their euphoria began wearing of and sleep caught up, her mind could not settle. "Viktor," she murmured.

"Mmh?" He answered, already drowsing of.

"I maybe think so, too."

[doeeyedmeanie]

a hero always watches ….? J•T x fem!reader

Stalker!Jason Todd so be warned..? He’s kinda a creep.. pt2

xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox

Your eyes were quickly adjusting to the dim lit streets you surrounded yourself with..the hostile coves and shadows hiding your apartment’s entrance. Your feet carrying you so mindlessly down your steps and into the cold, smoke polluted street and well..into yet again another crime..!

“Hey b!tch..pass me your purse..” Your mind suddenly so aware of the scene before you tried its hardest to fight the thug now gripping your arm and your purse . Your lips parted in protest only to be clammed shut by another thugs hand . God you hated this..living like this..all you did was step out later than usual to go cross the street to go get some snacks due to well…the usual sadness that would hit after a busy day .

You tried and tried to get the two idiots off you only to be met with a harsher grip and a slight smack to your hip , you’d probably scream if you didn’t know any better…if you didn’t go through this every week - that’s why your purse held tampons and a pack of condoms and why your card and cash was hidden in your bra..you’d grown smarter..more aware . You were so used to this that you were already expecting Red Hood to swoop in any moment and-

“Hey.-“ There he was..your hero or whatever he really was , his fists colliding with each thug as a warning . He stood tall, masked face hidden as usual , usual smug tone to his voice , “god you gotta find a better time to leave your house..!” He joked despite the already worn down, tired expression on your face ; you’d expected this and you were already expecting the following…

The thugs had yelped and run off , leaving you and an already touchy Red hood who’s usual excuse for his roaming hand was just to ‘check for any marks’ . His hand had finished its check , his body leaning against a wall as he purposefully checked you out .

“‘m fine..” you shut him down before he could even ask..Your eyes trained to the shop across the street to well distract you and make your point clear ; you’d be fine after you bought your snacks and returned home .

“uh huh…that’s why you..seem soo..” his hands made the usual movement , a scoff leaving your lips at it which only served to make him laugh , “tense” He whispered , a hand now gripping your hip as his fingers brushed against the fabric of your dress .

“Listen im-“ you tried to shut him down…multiple times but for some reason Red Hood could never stay away..maybe he just did rounds on this part of town and maybe he just happened to bump into you when trouble happened..you hoped but that was a lie , he had hacked into cameras all around to make sure you were safe ; the ones at your work , the ones pointed outside your apartment and the one he’d planted into your apartments fridge..yeah he’d placed one after you first invited…after he’d invited himself in to make sure you were fine and also to check out if a pretty thing like you was single..and safe..yeah safe..

“In need of my help once again..?” He scoffed , pushing himself off the wall and now very carefully stalking towards you. One of his hands messing with your hair as his hotter hand guided you back to the entrance of your apartment block, “listen , pretty, it’s late..hm? How about we get you to bed..?” He practically purred.

Maybe he got off on it…your trust in him, nodding along as he guided you up the stairs . You always did..always obeyed him.. how could you not ? He was a hero..right and they were always right ..so.. how could you disobey him? Especially when he stood so tall and cared so much..maybe you even got off on it..the hero caring for you.

“hmm you’ve changed your hair..” he mumbled , messing your hair up as you fiddled with the door . His hands instantly moving to wrap around your waist to push the door open , he sighed and practically pushed you inside , “maybe you should get a better lock..your doors too soft . Anyone could just bump into it and break it..” he whispered before looking around , he was proud of it ; having you wrapped his finger and nodding along looking so pretty .

“Mhm or maybe I should move ..” you joked before turning back to him, just standing in your doorway . You smiled…and probably knocked the wind out of him or well it gave that impression due to him slipping off the wall and loosing his cool ; he tried to laugh it off and just hold onto the door like the cool hero he was..or well pretending he was.

“Uh huh..like you could afford it..”he joked , his masked face giving nothing but pure animalistic energy, his gaze felt cold despite the fact you couldn’t see it ; it was there , watching you..hunting you.. You waved him off , opening your door and giggling at him .

“Save me again some time..!” You hummed , giggling as you shut your bedroom door .

“Always..” he whispered back , heading out and making sure to lock your apartment door behind himself . He waited , till the lock clicked and until he knew you’d be asleep..usually half an hour after you closing your day. He waited like a wolf waiting for its prey, that’s when he acted ; dashing out and onto the building facing yours . His eyes not leaving the slither of light shining into your bedroom , he sat there . Watching .

He knew he was wrong for this..for watching you sleep so peacefully; with a tiny skin tight pink matching set..god that drove him crazy so crazy that his hand was lazily hovering over his now forming hard on..lightly rubbing as he watched you move . Sure he could just break in and well confess but he wasn’t that much of a creep..this was easier, better..making sure you got home safe before he sat and waited for you to either wake up or just until the sun came up. Once he got bored he’d dip, going home or fighting some lowlife just to distract him . Once home he’d watch you through cameras , like the one pointed at your bedroom ; watching you change and taking screen shots for his own…use later . Jason knew better but how could he not? You were a goddess and he could only worship you like one..privately..maybe he’d make it public once you actually acknowledged him…

AAAA I don’t know how this was , let me know please babies

@jjenthusee

[random-artwork1]

Hiding and caught

Heghog are you still-

!!!

Sonic?

Is he asleep???

What is he doing here!? Is he here to talk? He can’t see me like-

!!!!THIS!?

It’s unusual for you to stay liek this…

However.. dose this mean there’s something wrong? Are you really upset with me..

What is he-

CHAOS CONTROL!

~0~

Your body heat seems fine, your heart rate is high as usual..

Is he technically not wearing anything anymore??

Even so you as my guest I can’t let you freeze-

I need a shower.. I smell like sugar and frosting..

…

Did he just tuck me in???

I didn’t expect shadows place to be so-

Dead…

….

Nice going

Now he knows somethings up now I have to explain when we look like this!!

We could say that we came down with something no that’s too convenient we could always make a break for it though -

(Ego continues to yap)

Weird… this blanket smells like him-

(Noise)

SHIT

….

Last page

So tired

I can’t run away yet. I still have to confront shadow even if it kills me

but I know starving will

im so hungry

I have to be quick,

sweet chaos I needed that!

staying in a ball for too long is way bad for my back

…..(only coffee fridge)

this guy. ….

[beth20light]

𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮

Jacob black x Reader

A/N: Hello! Right now i’m really obsessed with jacob black x reader fics but i cant seem to find something that i liked :( Soo i decided to write mine. Its gonna be 2 or 3 chapters im not sure yet and english is not my first language please excuse my mistakes .Anyway i hope you guys like it 🥰

Note: In this world there is no bella. So not any love triangles. There are vampires but just mentioned briefly. And both of you are above 18.

Summary: Your dad, Charlie, and Billy were on a fishing trip, and somehow you and Jacob ended up tagging along. When it was time to head back, everyone paired off, and you ended up with Jacob. Now, the two of you were already on the road in Billy’s old truck, heading back to Forks.

The car ride was quiet since both of you were tired from the fishing weekend with your dads. You just wanted to go home and sleep in your bed. While thinking about your cozy bed, you glanced at Jacob. He was focused on the road, not wanting to hit a deer or something in the middle of the night. Jacob had been your friend since your family moved to Forks when you were 12. Billy and your dad were friends, so it wasn’t surprising that you and Jacob became friends too. He was a good friend, but you and he had drifted apart for a couple of months. He’d been acting strange—cutting his hair, changing his look, hanging out with Sam, who he hated the most, and putting distance between the two of you for reasons you didn’t understand.

Somehow, you both ended up on this trip together. Instead of asking why he’d been distant, you decided to let it slide and act like nothing had happened. Only small gestures giving something that he needs etc. dull thanks and you are welcomes. Pf course your dad understand that there is something happened between you two. So maybe the reason that your dad wanted you to go with Jacob rather then himself. But now, with just the two of you alone, the mood felt more awkward then the fishing trip.

“Is there something on my face?” Jacob asked, lifting his lips slightly.

“What? No,” you said, caught off guard.

“ You’ve been staring at me for a couple minutes you know” He smirked.

You hadn’t realized you were staring at him, lost in thought about what had happened between you two.

“I was just looking at your new look. New hair, biggest biceps ever, and all. You’ve changed a lot. I do like your new look, but I miss the long hair,” you said with a half smile.

He gave a small, bittersweet smile. “Well, some things had to change. Nothing stays the same.”

The silence between you lingered after Jacob's quiet words. You turned your attention back to the road, focusing on the dark stretch ahead as you got lost in your thoughts again. You still couldn’t find a reason for why Jacob was acting this way, and it made you sad. His refusal to share anything with you only deepened your disappointment. It was as if the two of you had never been best friends who shared everything.

“What the—” Shaken from your thoughts by Jacob’s words, you looked around. The car was slowing down, and Jacob didn’t look happy. “What’s happening?” you asked with a concerned glance.

“The car is breaking down,” he sighed. “Great.” He leaned back in his seat and rubbed his face with one hand. “Just what we needed.”

You sat up a little straighter, looking out the window at the seemingly endless stretch of dark highway. The woods loomed on either side, the only light coming from the car’s dim headlights and the faint glow of the moon.

“Is it the engine?” you asked, trying to hide the nervousness creeping into your voice.

Jacob shook his head. “I’m not sure yet. Let me check.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the car, the door creaking as it closed behind him. You watched him walk around to the front, popping the hood and disappearing into the shadows. The night air seeped into the car, cold and unsettling.

You pulled out your phone to see if there was a signal. Of course, there was none. How could it be a signal in the middle of nowhere? As panic started to rise, you hoped it was something fixable.

Jacob reappeared a few minutes later, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Looks like something’s wrong with the radiator. We’re not going anywhere,” he said with a shrug. “Let me call Dad so he can come get us.” He reached for his phone.

“We can’t. There’s no signal,” you sighed nervously, getting out of the car. “ What are we gonna do now ?”

Seeing your nervous, Jacob said, “Hey, relax. Y/N At least you’re not alone.” With his words, you glanced at him. The idea of spending the night stranded on the side of the road with your best friend—who had suddenly put distance between you for some unknown reason—wasn’t how you had imagined ending the weekend.

But it was better than being alone in the middle of the night, you thought.

“I think there are about 20 miles left. We can go on foot,” he said while looking at the empty road.

“Are you serious? You want to walk all that way? It’s nearly five hours of walking.” You looked at him in disbelief; he couldn’t be serious about this. Not to mention the wild animals that could attack at any moment.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I guess we’re stuck here until our dads realize we’re not home yet.”

“I hope they realize soon.” you said while looking at the endless woods beside you.

A wave of cold swept through you, making you shudder. you rubbled my arms without realizing.

“Y/N, you’re going to get cold. Get in the car,” Jacob said, scanning you. You nodded and went back to the car. Inside wasn’t that warm either since the car broke down, but it was better than being outside.

Jacob sat down in the car too. It was time for silence. Everything was worse between you two now; You had to sit with him on this cold night until God knows when. With the car broken down, the inside was getting colder. You realized your fingertips were freezing, so you put them in your pockets.

“Are you cold, Y/N?” Jacob suddenly asked, concern etched on his face. “Why i am asking? Of course, you are.”

“Thanks for the concern, but unless you have a blanket you can give me, I don’t think you can help,” You said with a sly smile. “Wait, aren’t you cold too?” You asked suddenly, looking at him with a confused expression. The cold didn’t seem to bother him.

At your expression, his concerned face shifted, and he smirked. “No, only weak people like you get cold. Not me.”

Ha ha ha, You laughed ironically. “You are a joker now. Keep the comedy to yourself, I’m freezing.” You said, side-eyeing him.

You were warming to each other, making jokes, but the cold wasn’t letting up. You rubbed your arms again to feel some heat.

“Hey, come here,” he said while opening his arms.

You looked at him, confused. “You want to hug me now? How is that going to help?”

“Since I’m the hot one in both ways, I can help you not die from the cold.” He spoke with a cocky tone. “Besides, if I let you die like this, your dad would kill me too.” Without giving you a chance to respond, he gently pulled you to him and wrapped his arms around you. You rested your head and hands on his chest. He was holding you tight, not letting you escape. Then you realized and asked, “Jacob, why are you so hot?”

“What do you mean? I was always hot,” he said sarcastically.

“No, Jacob, why is your body so hot?” You asked, concerned as you tried to look at his face. “Do you have a fever?” You put your hand on his forehead; he was burning. “Why didn’t you tell me? I let you drive all this—” Your words were interrupted by his laughter.

“Ahh, I missed this,” he sighed. You were still looking worriedly at his face. “No, I’m fine. I’m like this all the time, so it’s not a fever.”

“Did you go to a doctor?”

“Yes, I did,” he said while pulling you closer to his chest. “You don’t need to worry. I’m fine.”

“Are you sure ?” You asked again. Didn’t get satisfied with answers “Yes for the billion time I’m fine.” He smiled with this unending questions.

“That’s good, then,” You said, you felt that he nodded.

All this chatting felt like old times. Both of you were joking again; You were worrying over him, and he was assuring you that he was okay. Just like that time when he fell off his bike and acted like nothing happened because he didn’t want you to worry. Those were good times.

You were getting warmer, of course. Jacob was practically an oven. Lost in your thoughts, a small giggle escaped from your mouth.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing, just my thoughts,” you said. He hummed agreeingly. There was silence again. This was the only time you could get alone with him, so you decided to speak.

“Hey, Jacob.”

“Yes, what’s wrong, Y/N?”

“Do you really miss us?” You asked, your head still on his chest, unable to see his reaction to the question.

He didn’t answer immediately. Then he sighed. “Yes, I do miss us. But there are things, Y/N, I can’t—”

You interrupted him. “What things, Jacob? What is it that you can’t tell your best friend?”

He sighed again, but it was different this time. “There are things that can harm you. You don’t understand now, but I’m trying to protect you.”

“You’re protecting me by leaving and hanging out with Sam? I thought you hated him,” You said with a frustrated voice.

“I did hate him, but now I don’t. It doesn’t matter,” he said. “And yes, I’m protecting you by leaving.” His voice grew louder. You didn’t say anything, then his voice softened. “I wish I could tell you what’s happening, but I can’t. I’m sorry. This is the best for you.”

There was little silence again. You still couldn’t understand why he won’t tell. And it was eating you from inside not getting any answers. You felt desperate. The answers were on tip of his lips but he choose not to say anything. Maybe he didn’t trust you enough to say it. This even made you sadder.

“Will it always be this way until the end?” You asked, your voice cracking. It was your last attempt to get him to speak. Being like this forever made your heart feel so heavy with sorrow. You felt like you were going to cry, so you closed your eyes tightly, trying to keep the tears from escaping.

“Y/N I—” he started, but he didn’t finish his sentence.

You didn’t ask anything else, and he said nothing. Your bodies were close, but not your souls. You were scared to open your eyes again face the facts. With the warmth from him, and with your unending thoughts you fell asleep on his chest.

[hyuniemyunie]

holding bruce while he cries ☆ミ

and then making him cum oops.

sub bruce wayne x gn dom reader

nsfw

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(ФωФ): big man in your lap, dry humping, clothed..stuff, bruce cumming in his pants, bruce crying!!!

lawd help this is kinda long😭😭 i write for everything mentioned in my pinned list, so dont be surprised if i post for a lot of characters/fandoms<3 if u saw any typos..no u didnt..

(I'll get to yalls requests soon after im done with exams!<3)

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･

the Batcave was silent except for the soft hum of the machinery and the occasional beep of the monitors. Bruce sat in front of the computer, his back hunched, eyes bloodshot from hours of working, but he wasn’t focused on the screen. His mind raced with the weight of his responsibilities, the guilt, the constant need to protect Gotham that never seemed to let up. The mask he wore as Batman was always on, even in moments of exhaustion.

You had been quietly watching him from the shadows for a while, your heart aching for him. You could see the strain on his face, the toll his double life had taken on him. He was never the one to ask for help, to let someone in. But you could tell he needed it, needed to be held.

Without a word, you approached him, your steps soft and measured. You placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, feeling the tense muscles under his suit. “Bruce,” you whispered, your voice warm and full of concern. “You’ve been at this for too long. You need to rest.”

He didn’t respond, his jaw clenched as if holding back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over. The weight of everything—Alfred’s death, the countless battles, the endless loss—was suffocating him, and he didn’t know how to let go of it. He wasn’t used to showing weakness, not even in front of you.

You gently knelt in front of him, your hand softly cupping his face, urging him to look at you. “Bruce, it’s okay,” you murmured, your voice tender, full of love, something bruce wasn't used to. “You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”

For a moment, Bruce’s eyes flickered, and his chest tightened. He wanted to say something, to deny the raw ache in his heart, but the words got stuck in his throat. The walls he had built around himself started to crack, the dam he had carefully constructed to keep his emotions in check beginning to crumble.

Your thumb brushed over his cheek, a soothing gesture, and that was all it took. His shoulders shook as he let out a ragged breath, and before he could stop himself, tears welled up in his eyes. The dam had broken, and he couldn’t hold it in any longer, he trusted you enough to cry in front of you.

He buried his face in your hands, the flood of emotions too much to contain. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, raw with pain. “I’m so tired, I’ve lost too much.”

Without a second thought, you pulled him into your arms, your embrace warm and comforting “Shh,” you whispered, gently rocking him back and forth. "You’re not alone. I’m here, always.”

He leaned fully against your body, letting you hold most of his weight as the weeks, months, years of pent-up emotions poured out of him. The words of comfort were like daggers to his weary heart. He'd never been on the receiving end of that kind of affection. He'd gone so long without it. He craved it far more than he'd realised.

Bruce clung to you, his hands gripping you tightly as if you were the only thing holding him together. He wasn’t Batman in this moment. He wasn’t the stoic, unshakable Bruce Wayne. He was just a man, broken and exhausted, seeking solace in your arms. The tears came harder now, and he let them fall, not bothering to hide his vulnerability anymore.

You stroked his hair, your touch soft and calming. “It’s okay to cry,” you whispered. “You’ve been through so much, and you’re so, so strong.”

He shook his head against your shoulder, the weight of his grief too much to bear. “I should’ve done more,” he whispered. “I should’ve saved them. I should’ve been stronger.”

“No,” you said firmly, your voice soft but resolute. “You did everything you could. You can’t save everyone, Bruce. But you’ve done more for Gotham than anyone ever could. And I’m so proud of you.”

The words were like a balm to his raw soul, soothing the pain and quieting the thoughts screaming in his head — the ones telling him to pull away, to get a hold of himself, to stop acting like a child, to stop needing things. Still, he didn't speak. Instead, Bruce squeezed you tighter, burying his face in the crook of your neck and simply letting himself cry.

your words, full of warmth and reassurance, wrapped around him like a blanket, soothing the pain he had carried for so long. He pulled back slightly, his tear-streaked face searching you eyes, looking for something, anything.

You cupped his face gently, your thumb brushing away the tears. “You’re my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice filled with so much love. “You’ve done enough. You’ve given everything. And now, you deserve to rest, okay?"

Bruce let out a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed as he allowed himself to finally relax into your embrace. For the first time in what felt like forever, he wasn’t the Dark Knight. He wasn’t the protector of Gotham. He was just Bruce, a man in need of comfort, and you were there to give it.

your arms wrapped around him again, holding him close, your body warmth radiating through him like a beacon. “I’ve got you, sweetheart,” you whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his head. He whimpered at the kiss, shuddering as the simple action sent a pleasant tingle through his body. His eyes were still shut tight, unable to bring himself to look at you.

In the back of his mind, Bruce was mortified by his behaviour. Sure, he wasn't exactly crying in public, but he'd never had this kind of breakdown before either. He couldn't help the little flicker of embarrassment that rose in him.

"just stay here, with me."

He nodded, pressing himself closer to you, burrowing his face into the crook of your neck in a bid to get as close as possible. He could just stay like this, he thought. He'd stay here forever, if you let him. Bruce sniffled slightly, trying and failing to keep the little whimpers of distress from escaping. He was a grown man, goddamnit, crying like a child in the arms of a pretty person. after a moment, you finally spoke, looking down at his hunched figure "you okay baby?"

He stayed silent for a moment, his face half buried in your hair. The sobs had stopped, leaving him with a raw feeling in his throat. He opened his mouth, letting out a hoarse and unstead-sounding 'yeah'. The urge to look at you welled in his chest, and he finally raised his head. His eyes stung, and he could only imagine the absolutely pathetic expression he must have.

yet you just looked at him..lovingly, as if he was actually worth caring for.

He was immediately struck by the expression on your face. No mockery, no disgust, no pity. Just a fondness in your eyes that Bruce hadn't ever seen directed at him. nothing genuine, anyway.

His chest ached, both in a good and bad way. Bruce blinked, leaning into you.

"I.." He started, voice hoarse, not being able to finish. he muttered a curse under his breath, frustrated by his inability to get past the lump in his throat.

"shut up, pretty boy, just let me cuddle you" you said with a little grin, a teasing glint in your eyes as you softly pinched his cheek Another huff slipped from his lips, but he couldn't help the reluctant half-smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth at your words. He still didn't lift his eyes to meet yours, the shame of his previous breakdown still too fresh inside him.

"You're not going to let this go.." he mumbled, shifting his body slightly. He wasn't technically in your lap, but you were still holding most of his weight.

"come on, relax, it's just us two, no one else.." you said with a shrug

This time, the almost-smile on his face turned into a full-fledged one. He lifted his gaze once more, looking to you for probably the first time in years without a sense of anger or caution.

"Just us two," he repeated, the foreign feeling of ease filling his chest. He took a breath, before adding; "Not Batman, yeah."

"you know, I've been wanting to do a thing for a while.."

before he could even process your sentence, you sat down on his chair, and grabbed him by the hips, pulling him down towards you. He let out a slightly strangled noise as he suddenly found himself in your lap.

"What are you-," he started, but you'd gotten the exact reaction you wanted from him. In his current position, his knees were on either side of your legs, and he was essentially straddling you. his body was..a bit too big to properly fit on your lap, and his weight was giving you a bit of a struggle. but some sacrifices must be made to have a beefy man in your lap, yeah?

"comfy?"you said, your voice smug as hell, too smug for his liking.

He spluttered, a blush staining his cheeks. He was, admittedly, comfy. He'd never sat on someone's lap like this before, so he wasn't entirely sure what to do with himself, and he could clearly see his body's... reaction to this new development. yes, he was hard. He looked away, trying to hide his blush and hoping you wouldn't notice the bulge pressing against your leg. "You're too much," he muttered gruffly.

and to his horror, you looked down and noticed exactly what you shouldn't have, his raging boner. god, this was embarrassing. He flinched, the stare making his blush deepen even more. He didn't mean for you to see quite what his body was doing, but it seemed he didn't have much choice in control at the moment.

".... I can't help it," he muttered defensively, still refusing to look at you.

you huffed out a laugh, arching a brow as you looked at him with the most amused expression you could.

"you got hard over..sitting on my lap?"

He muttered something under his breath, something that sounded like 'I'm a man, aren't I?'. He shifted again, trying to move slightly away from you, but your hands kept him firmly in place. He still refused to look at you, or even in your direction. "It's... been a while," he admitted with a frustrated huff of breath. well, yeah, it has been. no sex, no touching himself. if he didn't need to pee, he'd forget he even has a dick. so of course he's..sensitive.

you only looked up at him with a smug expression that made his blood boil, that damn smirk-

but then, you just..rolled your hips up like it was nothing. He let out a strangled 'ngh' at the friction he got from that, and his hands scrambled to balance himself by grabbing your shoulders.

Bruce shot you an irritated look — more for the fact that you seemed to be enjoying this than the action itself. "Stop that," he huffed, but his voice held a desperate whine. He swallowed thickly, the situation becoming even more uncomfortable by the second. the more you kept moving, the more uncomfortable he became.

you felt good against him. Really good.

He gripped your tighter, the redness of his face spreading down further. "You're a nuisance." he muttered, but the words had no bite behind them.

"Am i? you seem to be enjoying this a lot, bruce, I'm not even doing anything."

He bit the inside of his lip, letting out a shuddering gasp. His fingers dug harder into your shoulders, struggling to keep up his already flimsy balance. Bruce let out a whimper, unable to do much but let you have your way. He wanted — no, needed — more friction than what he was getting, but he had no idea what to do.

He took in a shuddering breath, a whine slipping past his lips. He shifted in your lap, trying to find a better position. He let out another gasp as your jeans pressed right against him, his hands clenching even tighter.

He couldn't look at you, could only focus on the friction as slowly, hesitantly, he found a rhythm to thrust against you, his dick rubbing painfully against the fabric of his suit.

"God," he choked out, his breathing ragged.

"you're acting like a virgin, bruce" you rolled your hips up to meet his grinding, earning a hitched moan from him, making him bite his lower lip, hard. "gonna cum in your pants too?"

He whimpered at your words, shuddering at the heat rushing through his body. He already felt like he was on the verge of coming, and they'd barely done anything. He'd spent so long without being touched by anyone, that the smallest thing was sending him over the edge. he was just so, so sensitive.

"Stop... talking," he panted, his breath hitching with every movement. "I won't... finish in my pants." He tried to sound as confident as possible, but he didn't really convince himself. he was absolutely gonna finish in his pants.

He groaned, the heat from his blush making him feel like he was burning up. He was already so close, and he'd hardly done anything. If your words weren't enough to push him over the edge, the mental image of what he must look like certainly would.

"Nn... please," he mumbled, the word turning into a whine at the end. He was barely holding on as it was.

"please, what? you need to tell me and use your big boy words, bruce"

he whined, letting his head drop to the crook of your neck as he spoke, voice barely above a whisper

"wanna cum.."

you chuckled, your hands going to rest on the firm muscles of his ass, giving them a squeeze "thats a good boy."

He practically let out a sob at your words, the combination of everything finally getting too much. He buried his face deeper into the crook of your neck, desperate to muffle his moans into something, anything to stop him from giving everything away. In that moment, Bruce Wayne, the billionaire and famous vigilante, was a shaking, whining mess, trying his hardest not to cum in his pants like a fucking virgin

you got tired of all his panting and whining, deciding to finally make him cum. you grabbed his hair, pulling back hard, his response to that was immediate. A strangled cry escaped him, his fingers clinging to you as his body tensed, shuddering harshly as he came in his pants, wetting the front of it

Bruce slumped against you, breathing heavy and shaking. Humiliation crashed down over him like a bucket of icy water.

Even as he came down slowly from the high, the heat in his cheeks reignited. He lifted his head, looking down at his pants, then quickly looked away. He couldn't bring himself to look at it — how embarrassing. The wet patch on the front of his pants only made him feel more embarrassment, and he let out a low whine, burying his head back into your neck, damn his size, he couldn't even hide himself.

"none of that, look at the mess you made, bruce." you grabbed his hair, pulling his head back and forcing him to look at the mess he made

He let out another low whimper when you pulled his hair, so he had no choice but to pull his head back. He hesitantly looked down at his pants again, the damp patch on the front an obvious sign of what had just happened.

Bruce's breath hitched in his chest, and his fingers curled into your clothes again. "... I'm a mess.." he mumbled, his voice a whisper.

[koiiiji]

hideout

summary ; before Jinrang end up in jail, and on his way to become head of busan, he used to hide in old, dirty hotels rooms, hen things went wrong. just like today.

author's note ; i just can't get enough of him, im sorry!!😭

rain hammered against the window of the tiny hotel room in busan, each droplet adding to the rhythmic sound that blanketed the city outside. the dim yellow light from the single bulb overhead flickered occasionally, casting uneven shadows across the peeling wallpaper. musty scent of old wood mixed with the freshness of rain, giving the space an oddly comforting yet oppressive atmosphere.

Jinrang leaned against the doorway, his arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you pace the room. the tension between you two was almost palpable, charged with an odd mix of your annoyance and his unspoken curiosity.

“one bed?” you hissed, spinning around to glare at him. your voice was laced with annoyance, though exhaustion was quickly dulling its edge. “of all the places to hole up, this is what you find? and with one bed?”

he shrugged, feigning indifference. “it’s not like we had a lot of options, you know. cops and half the gangs in busan are on our tails. be grateful i found a place with a roof.”

“a roof would be fine if i didn’t have to share a bed with you,” you snapped back, dropping onto the edge of the creaky bed. “you’re lucky i’m too tired to care right now.”

Jinrang’s smirk deepened. truthfully, he’d been thrilled when he saw the single bed earlier. he couldn’t deny the way his heart raced every time you looked his way. not that he’d ever admit it.

you eyed the bed warily. “and where are you planning to sleep? the floor?”

“why would i do that?” he replied with a grin. “it’s a big enough bed. we’re both adults; we can share without it being a big deal.”

you rolled your eyes, muttering something under your breath before standing up. “yeah, sure, of course...” you said sarcastically, still not believing he gonna sleep with you. “i’m taking a shower first. don’t even think about falling asleep before i’m back.”

Jinrang chuckled as you gathered your toiletries and disappeared into the cramped bathroom. the sound of water running mixed with the rain outside, creating a soothing symphony that he couldn’t help but relax to. faint patter of raindrops against the window blended seamlessly with the soft hum of the shower, filling the room with an almost meditative calm. but still, he couldn’t shake the image of you in the shower. it made him smile.

when you emerged, the steam from the shower followed you into the room, curling around your figure. Jinrang watched as you fished a spare shirt out of your bag, preparing to change right there in front of him.

“you’re not shy, huh?” he teased, propping himself up on his elbows.

you shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “turn around, idiot.”

with an exaggerated sigh, he obeyed, rolling onto his belly, so he was with his back now to you. “it’s not like i haven’t seen worse in the field.”

“doesn’t mean you get a free show,” you retorted, tugging the towel off and changing to dry shirt. when you were done, you cleared your throat. “you can look now.”

Jinrang turned, his dark eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than they should have. the oversized shirt you’d thrown on barely masked the weariness etched into your features, but to him, you still looked—

“what?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “do i have something on my face?”

“nothing,” he said quickly, standing up to set his jacket on the back of a chair. “you should get some rest. we’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

your hair was still damp, clinging to the sides of your face, and your annoyance seemed renewed as you glanced at the bed again. “you’re still on about this sharing thing?”

“i’m not moving,” Jinrang said lazily, already sprawled out on one side of the bed. his large frame seemed to dominate the small mattress, taking precious little space. “come on, (y/n), it’s just one night.”

you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “if you snore, i’m kicking you off.”

“deal,” he said, patting the open space beside him. “now, hurry up before i take the whole bed.”

with a grumble, you slid under the blanket, keeping as much distance as possible between the two of you. or at least, you tried to. Jinrang’s broad shoulders and long legs seemed to take up every available inch of space, forcing you to edge closer. the mattress creaked under his weight, and his shamelessly sprawled posture made it clear he wasn’t about to accommodate your protests.

“why you are so fucking big?,” you muttered, elbowing him lightly. the warmth radiating from his body was impossible to ignore, and despite yourself, it felt oddly comforting against the chill of the rainy night.

“i can’t help it if i’m built like this,” he replied, amusement evident in his tone. “but hey, at least i’m warm.”

you let out an exaggerated sigh but didn’t argue further. the day’s exhaustion was catching up with you, and the rhythmic sound of rain combined with Jinrang’s steady breathing began to lull you into a hazy state. as you drifted off, you muttered something about personal space, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

Jinrang glanced down at you, noticing how your breathing had evened out and your features softened in sleep. the weight of the day’s events hung heavy in the air, but in this quiet moment, he felt an uncharacteristic sense of peace. the way your hair framed your face, damp and slightly tousled, made his chest tighten in a way he couldn’t quite explain.

“goodnight, (y/n),” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain.

for once, you didn’t reply with a sharp remark. and as his eyes slid shut, Jinrang couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the best hiding spot he’d ever found.

[kevinsdsy]

bonus (if u ask me no one in this trio is normal btw):

(sebastian was talking about jerejean & the trio btw)

the trojans social media au — the archives (pt. 14): hello???? im still hiding in the shadows i promise i was just too tired to do something but not ready to sleep yet

[vxlentinescookies]

One-shot of (Jester) Shadow Milk cookie x (Princess) Fem Reader please 🙏🏻

Plot : The reader hates her kingdom because it ruled by the infamous greedy king (her father), later on her father hired a new jester and eventually the princess and the jester become close friend (they secretly like eachother) but king despise the idea that his daughter being close with the jester and is planning to do something bad.

I need yummy angst with fluff 🙏🏻

Also, we knew that Shadow Milk could easily destroy the kingdom, he's one of the beasts afterall-

→ ❛A rose in times of war❜

→ Pairing ; Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader → Quote ; ❛❛Do you trust me, my dearest?❜❜ → Genre ; Drama , Romance → A/N ; Here you go! I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it hehe

Once upon a time, there was a princess, caught in the claws of a greedy little kingdom. Her father, the King of the vast land, was greedy and infamous, often spending large quantities of money in parties and riches that could only amount to showing off his vast wealth. The princess was tired, exhausted of this behavior, so much that his father, in an unlikely act of love, hired the help of a handsome and great Jester, called—

“Shadow Milk Cookie, I know thats you you’re describing in the story…”

“Oh my dear (y/n) cookie, just allow me to have some fun!”

Ahem, long lost in the hills of earthbread, near Beast-Yeast, yet far away from most kingdoms, there would lie a kingdom, characterized for its poverty and power imbalance. Townsfolk would beg for a little bit of food, while the royalty boasted their riches and overabundance, this little kingdom was called Red Clover Kingdom. Ruled by King Clover Cookie, he’d become infamous in the chatter of his subjects and other kingdoms, due to his ruling with an iron fist and greed coating his words. Yet, despite all of this, one thing seemed to be clear, and its that he loved his daughter dearly. You see, the king wasnt always like this, there was a time where the king once was kind and full of life, but since the death of Queen Camellia Cookie, nothing but ruin and darkness had but befallen the kingdom. Consumed by grief, the King changed completely, fully submitting to the darkness in his heart and turning the kingdom into his own little playground, a truth he tried to hide from the Princess, whom he adored with his life as the only remnant of his wife’s legacy. 

Seeing the princess' saddened state, the boredom that leaked into her mind and into her life, the King came to a resolution, and that was bringing forth a jester, a companion for the Princess, said jester, was none other than Shadow Milk Cookie. Having infiltrated the kingdom as an attempt to escape from being locked out again by White Lily Cookie, Shadow Milk Cookie became appointed as the Princess jester, a job he relished in as it allowed him to partake into creating plays and making others laugh, but it also meant that he had to stay at bay, save he want to be found out, which wasnt that fun but he could manage. With that in mind, the relationship between the Princess and Shadow Milk cookie would slowly shift into one of friendship and comfort, as the Princess would find safety and a confidant in the jester.

“Shadow Milk cookie, you’re so funny” The princess would tell the jester once, laughing as he finished another of his puppet plays with expertise. 

“Of course I am, Im a jester after all!” He noted, and the princess couldnt do anything but laugh gently. 

“Of course you are” The princess would say with a smile, looking at the jester before thinking deeply. “And to think that when we met, I wasnt keen on you, you’ve truly surpassed my expectations, jester of mine… And Im grateful of that.”

Of course, the princess wasnt always keen on the jester. Thinking at first that he was a tactic of his father to keep her controlled, she would at first be coarse and harsh on the jester, hiding behind her fan as the poor cookie tried his best to make the royal laugh, but it was difficult. It’d take one specific parody of the royalty, presented only in front of the princess and some of her handmaids, to make the princess finally break into laughter, something that seemed to be unlikely, it seemed to finally have happened. 

“Right, that moment was quite precious, I hold it dear to my heart” Shadow milk cookie said with pride in his voice, holding a hand to his heart while another lifted his hat, and the princess couldnt do anything but giggle at his mannerisms “I mean it! Your laughter breaks my heart now, ahuhu…”

“Oh you silly jester” She’d say warmly, walking towards him to put a hand on his shoulder. “Truly, what would I do without you…”

Those words seemed to take Shadow milk by surprise, as he looked at the princess for long moments before simply smiling and hitting her with another one of his jokes, another parody of the royalty of the dark kingdom, and the Princess would hide her mouth with her fan as she laughed. Things were surely lively in her quarters, since of course, Shadow Milk Cookie couldnt afford to laugh at royalty in front of the king himself, oh no! Of course he couldnt, save he’d be sent away to the dark dungeons of the castle—And then the princess would be all sad and mopey, and that was something he didnt want to happen.

Silently, though, would their relationship deepen the more they spent together, the more they shared moments and laughter, it was something visible and palatable to those around them, the handmaids, the butlers, everyone but them. For the princess would keep on laughing, and the jester would keep on entertaining her. Knowledge of their feelings growing closer and closer together would eventually find the ears of the king, however, and nothing but anger would come from his lips as he thought of what to do. This wasnt meant to happen, he wasnt meant to fall for the princess, nor viceversa, but oh, who was he to say who the princess deserved? Apparently, someone because the next thing he did would be something that would mark the poor princess forever.

“An arranged marriage? B-But, father—”

“No buts! You will marry the prince of the kingdom of Rose Champagne, lest you wish to see that damned Jester suffer!”

With nothing else to say, the poor princess couldnt do anything but go to her room and cry inconsolably, seeing her life go down the drain as the King forced her to take a path she didnt want, to take the hand of someone she didnt love, it was all a nightmare, and as Shadow Milk cookie approached the room for the daily session with his favorite princess, he’d come to see the aftermath of a dark endeavor. 

“Oh Shadow Milk Cookie, my loyal jester!” The princess would cry out as she went to hug the cookie, who, dumbfounded, would hold her in his arms to soothe her. “The king, the king wants to marry me off!!”

“W-What?”

“Y-Yes, he wants me rid of someone from another kingdom, and I must abide lest… lest they hurt you…”

The words felt like daggers into his heart, as the cookie simply listened to the poor princess’ laments. And then, only then would darkness and deceit take shape and form inside of the cookie, feeling those old feelings resurface and take shape into the darkest of ways. He consoled the princess, then, the handmaids leaving the room to leave them both be, as the Jester rubbed circles on her back, shushing her down to a small slumber. Oh dearest princess, if only you knew how much this jester has grown to adore you, your smiles, your laughter, your voice and your overall self, then you’d know that somethings are only done in the name of love.

Deceit was the last name of Shadow Milk Cookie, and with the only truth on his lips being his love for the princess, he’d ideate a plan to get her out of there, and into the depths of Beast-Yeast. Carefully would plan a way to turn the handmaids against the king, the butlers, the cooks, the servants and the townspeople, which wasnt hard, as all of them already felt a certain way, less than favorable, about the father of the princess. Then, he’d call upon a riot, a riot to overthrow the king and lead to a better future for both the kingdom and the princess. And while all that happened, he’d steal the princess away, take her somewhere safer, somewhere deep within Beast-Yeast.

“Are you sure this plan will work?” One of the townsfolk asked, looking around the room as the jester, clad in a cloak, only smiled.

“Of course, I’m the princess’ appointed jester after all… Who else would know the castle better than me?”

That would mark a countdown that would end a fateful rainy day, deep into the darkness of the night, when the princess was sleeping, clad in a white dress, would wake to the thunder and the silhouette to someone in the balcony. 

“W-Who’s there…?” She’d ask, sheepishly as Shadow Milk would only open the balcony doors, extending a hand over to her. “S-Shadow Milk Cookie…?”

“My dearest princess, will you accept this jester’s dance this night?” He’d speak, then, with the warmest of smiles and the most devious of gazes. Truly, a meeting for a lifetime.

“W-What are you doing here, my jester?”

“There is no time to lose, princess, a riot is brewing within the townsfolk and the servants of the kingdom, we must make haste and escape while we can…”

“But…”

“Do you trust me, my dearest?”

Silence would fill the room for long moments, as the princess would think about what to do, who to follow. But deep within her heart, she’d run to Shadow Milk and hold his face in her hands, completing the moment with a loving kiss. It would be returned, gingerly by the jester taken by surprise, as he led them towards the balcony, and in a jump of faith, would they both fall in the middle of the rain into the garden. Roars and wrath would be heard in the kingdom as the beast known as Shadow Milk Cookie would take the princess away, stealing one of the horses from the stable to run into the distance. Loud galloping could be heard from one of the exits of the kingdom, Shadow milk keeping the Princess hidden under a spell of invisibility and the cloak she now carried on.

Legend says that the beast and the princess were never to be seen again, as one of the townsfolk would take over the kingdom as the newly appointed king. Nobody but the king himself, who rotted away in the dungeons would weep for the lost princess, save for a few handmaids, except those who had learnt the true plan Shadow Milk Cookie had for them.

‘I’ll steal (Y/N) away, I’ll bring her into Beast-Yeast, the safest part there is and…’

“Shadow Milk Cookie?”

It had been years since you left the Kingdom, since the titles of princess and jester started becoming meaningless between you both. You called upon him as he turned to look at you, holding his child in your arms in the middle of a clearing in the forest, where the morning dew illuminated you making you seem… angelic. Oh, how could he afford to lose someone like you…

“Yes, my princess?” He’d ask, walking towards you and cupping your face in his hand, he was much taller, much bigger, and yet, he held you like the most precious doll in the world.

“Food is ready, I was going to call you earlier but you seemed so stuck in your thoughts and I didnt want to interrupt that I…” You trailed off, feeling his finger dance around your lips softly. “... I love you”

“I love you too, my dearest”

‘... And I’ll make her my wife.’

[lavenderspence]

unexplained sadness | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | Word Count: 2.5K

Content warning: pre-established relationship, depression, mental health struggles, mentions of therapy, angst, supportive!aaron

Summary: you've struggled to find a way out from under the darkness for years, but you were thankful he offered the final push you needed.

A/N: I drafted this a few days, contemplating if I should even post it. it's very self-indulgent. I wrote it at a time when I wasn't able to understand my own feelings, and im still not sure how. I think this is the realest my writing has been, but i do think I'm posting this with the most vulnerability as well. I want you all to remember, just in case you're struggling - you're amazing, you're enough and I believe in you. Life is crazy, but it will get better, allow yourself to be patient, and most importantly, take the greatest, most gentle care of yourself 💕

masterlist

You looked around, well aware of the amount of relief that should be flooding your body right now. It usually did at the end of a case, where another monster was put to rot in a cage much appropriate for its’ sins. 

But even knowing what you should be feeling, the simple truth was - you weren’t feeling anything at all, and you hadn’t for a while. 

And even when you did feel something, you could never explain it. It was a mess, where many emotions fought a battle, but in the end, all it came down to was an endless void where the darkness and despair of the unexplained won out.

The only thing you could feel at that moment was the pressure of the vest compressing against your chest. It stole the little amount of oxygen in your lungs in favor of an overwhelming amount of hidden sadness. 

Even with the sun high up in the sky and the warmth it was supposed to spread all over your skin, you felt cold - no warmth actually penetrated the top layer of your skin. And the chatter - EMTs, police officers, and outlookers, you couldn’t process anything at all. 

It was like you were standing there, like a statue, a headstone to remind everyone of your presence once upon a time, but not anymore. Physically, you were alive and aware, but mentally, you’ve been fighting a battle you could confidently admit you were losing. 

Your thoughts were deeply wrapped in a cobweb of confusion and melancholy, a never-ending cycle that couldn’t stop repeating itself. It felt like you didn’t exist outside the realm of your own despair. Each day the shadows around you persisted in their pursuit of you, dragging in with them this empty feeling, designed to leave you feeling like a loner. 

The string holding you tethered to the person you’d been before was tinning each day as the distance between you grew bigger and bigger. You no longer even felt her presence at all. For weeks you’ve fought a silent battle against your own mind, and even your body sometimes. 

You tried to hide behind a mask of fake smiles and nights spent around the people you trusted most, hoping you’d feel better, but you never did. You only felt this state you were in, as it gained speed and grew in volume. 

But there was a certain pair of eyes that saw the subtle changes in you, straight into a place even you couldn’t see. Warm chocolate, sometimes shining amber in the sun - somehow strict but also oh so soft. 

You thought you hid it well, but you could never hide yourself from him, and you should have known. 

Your hotel room was dark and quiet, safe for the gentle light and sound that came from the TV. A movie was playing, an early 2000s song in the background. The duvet felt heavy over your body, and you longed to kick it off in an effort to feel less trapped, but you couldn’t find the strength to. It was like your whole body was paralyzed in a fatal position with your muscles locked and your eyes open but unseeing. 

Case after case came, and each day it got harder. You had to try and perfect a mask you were getting tired of wearing, tired of hiding behind. You couldn’t skip work, lest you wanted to feel like more of a failure than you already did sometimes. 

You felt scared to admit to your struggles, half unsure what your struggles were to begin with, half unwilling to unload on others. You were willing to suffer and fight this on your own until you either had nothing left to fight against or no strength left to fight at all.

Your mind was working overtime, half empty and dark, half full and constantly spinning, you didn’t even process the foreign sound at first. Only it wasn’t so foreign - a series of gentle raps or someone’s knuckles against the door. Knocking. They were just enough to alert you of a newcoming presence but not disturb you or others in any way. 

You didn’t move a muscle. Even when two more knocks followed, even more gentle than the first, all you could do was blink. Even with the soft call of your name that came seconds later, you couldn’t find the strength to answer or even get up. You couldn’t even twitch. 

You stood there frozen in place, in time. Frozen between the walls of a prison of your own mind’s making. 

The knocks stopped, as did the voice calling out your name, maybe finally resigned to the fact you weren’t answering at all. 

Giving up on you the way you’d given up on yourself. 

You would be surprised if you didn’t feel a tiny bit of relief at being left on your own. Too bad the relief didn’t actually last long - just seconds after the lock beeped, signaling it was unlocked, and the door was slowly opening, bathing the room in the hallway light. 

Even with the small, hesitant steps this person took, you were instantly able to tell by the sounds of his feet hitting the wooden floor who it was. 

“Did you know it’s actually illegal to break into someone’s space?” Your voice came out raspy from misuse. You weren’t sure how much time had actually passed since you made it to your room, but if you had to guess, probably several hours had gone by.

“I do know that actually, it’s criminal law 101.” He retorted before you felt the mattress dip close to your feet, “You missed dinner.” He mussed.

A part of you couldn’t handle having a conversation with him, not right now. Not in the complete darkness, and the quiet stretched between you both. 

“I wasn’t hungry.” You answered simply. You waited for him to say something, and you waited and waited, and he wasn’t saying anything. It was like he was looking for the right words to use, so as not to offend you, or set you off. But you wouldn’t feel any of it if he did - just as the night was dark outside and so was your mind. 

“Just spit it out, Hotch.” You finally used a part of his name, unintentionally closing the distance the smallest bit even when you tried to stay away. Maybe subconsciously you knew you could trust him, if a little.  

“You’re not doing well.” 

You didn’t even hesitate. “Wow, way to show you aren't actually a gentleman.”

“I’m not trying to...” You could almost see him shaking his head, so in tune with his reactions from years of working alongside him, “I’m worried about you.” It left him in a whisper, like he was afraid to admit it. 

“I’m okay, there’s no need.” You denied it like it was your biggest defense against his accusations. Except they weren’t that, genuine worry dripped along with his words, but you had a hard time accepting it. You couldn’t, didn’t want to. Being vulnerable, especially in front of him, could cost you a lot, and with the way you’ve been living, you couldn’t afford it.

Even when deep in your heart you trusted him with everything, even yourself. 

You felt him place his hand on the duvet, enclasping his palm around your calf. “You were okay five weeks ago, and you haven’t been since then. I’ve been watching you wear a mark and barely holding yourself from falling apart. I don’t think ‘okay’ applies right now.” 

“I thought we promised not to profile each other.” You muttered brokenly, feeling parts of the mask he was talking about cracking in places. It was like having him so close, peeling your outer layers slowly, and leaving you exposed, finally making your emotional reactions coincide with your lack of understanding. It was like he was exposing all of you both to himself and you too. 

“Not at the expense of suffering in silence, we didn’t.” He answered with conviction, no hesitation. He was making it apparent your wellbeing was more important to him than any promise he might have made to you or others. He was letting you know he was prioritizing your health over everything else. 

He understood you even without you having to say anything. Just by watching you try to swim to the surface of the ocean and still being pushed by the crashing waves, he could already feel that you were struggling. 

He could see you were self-isolating, even when you were being surrounded by people. He picked up on the signs in the subtle subject changes you made whenever someone asked anything about you. You were unwilling to share, even though you loved sharing any little detail about your interest, allowing others to do the same. 

You let Garcia talk about her software and cute animals and allowed Reid to share any little fact with you he could. But even when you listened, it wasn’t hard to see you really weren’t. Staring into spaces or faking an interest, even though he knew you would be interested in the first place, had there not been anything amis to begin with. 

And slowly piece after piece had started falling together, like a puzzle started, yet left abandoned. 

In the darkness of the hotel room, miles away from your home and mere doors down from the rest of your team, a piece deep inside you started longing for the understanding he was offering. It started building up with worry over the reality of the words you knew you needed to say but were too scared to. It started wishing for a new slate, where the overwhelming amount of confusion and empty darkness no longer followed you like a shadow. 

It slowly started coming to terms with the fact that you weren’t enough to fight this on your own and that maybe you needed help to do so.

For the first time in weeks, months, who knew, maybe even years, you wanted to talk about it. You wanted to admit to your state of mind where reality got mangled with your deepest darkest thoughts imaginable, where self-doubt and the feeling of worthlessness took over. Where giving up sounded so much better than trying out again. Where any positivity was instantly turned into negativity whether you liked it or not. 

For the first time you craved being helped, you wanted to understand your own struggles and get better. You wanted to thrive in the life you were living instead of settling for simply existing. You wanted to talk, and you wanted to tell him all that. 

You rolled your lips between your teeth before you bit down until you tasted blood. One of your hands barely made it out from underneath the warmth of the duvet before you grabbed into the bedding with a tight fist. 

“I don’t think I’m doing okay, Aaron.” You whispered into the darkness. The bed dipped and groaned as he moved closer, settling just centimeters away from your cocoon this time. You were so busy looking over the skyline that you didn’t even see his hand move until you felt his warm palm overtop your skin. He held onto you, trying to prompt you into releasing the bedding, tapping his fingers in a gentle manner. 

He was offering you comfort without really saying or doing anything. He was letting you try and put your thoughts together before you entrusted him with the truth. 

“One minute I’m good, and the next it feels like I lose all touch with my own self and my feelings - It’s all empty, or an overwhelming amount of sadness I couldn’t begin to even understand. I can’t even grasp what prompts this sudden change. I’ve tried fighting it for so long, years maybe, and each time it comes back, I’m left feeling more hopeless than the last.” You explained in a small voice. 

A wave of relief, if small, rocked your whole body. There was something freeling about saying it out loud, ignoring the fear of admitting that had followed you for years. 

“Have you ever told anyone about it?” His voice was just another shadow in the room. A timbre so calm, quiet, and soothing that you knew he was listening with no reservations and no judgments. Just a pure need to help.

You went to shake your head, but remembered you were both still looking towards the window. “I’ve always played it off as a joke. I’ve never let it sound like I really mean it. Not like I do right now.” It was one of the many truths you’d admitted to that night. Even when you played it off, you knew deep inside it was a small cry for help you didn’t want to. You were unwilling to take the right steps in order to get the help you needed. 

“Why joke about it?” You thought about it for a second, trying to clear out the fog of the past.

“I guess…” Your fingers clenched underneath his own. “I guess I just wanted to see if anyone cared enough to ask if I was serious. They didn’t.” Realistically, you knew you shouldn’t wait on other people or expect them to see something amiss before you looked for help. But a part deep enough inside you wanted the reassurance that someone loved you enough to notice.

“But you want to get help?” He mumbled, still tapping his finger against your own.

“Yes.” You didn’t even have to think about it. You owed yourself that much, and all the help possible you could get.

“Okay.” He exhaled in relief, “As soon as we get back, we’ll start looking, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. You felt his hand squeeze your own in reassurance. You turned your palm up, enveloped his own hand, and gave him one back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

A few minutes of looking at the starless sky passed before he prompted you to move, if just enough to walk into the bathroom and wash your face - and you did. When you came back, he’d made himself comfortable leaning against the headboard, legs stretched on the mattress. 

He spent the night sleeping in yesterday’s clothes, trying to make sure you were doing okay and weren’t left feeling lonely. 

You knew there was a long path ahead of you - the path to self-understanding and acceptance of your own flaws and struggles, as well as the changes you may need to adapt to moving forward. Something you were undoubtedly going to have a hard time with. Where you’d need to fight against the days when you questioned whether it was worth it. Where you’d slowly have to come to terms with the fact that as long as you were making yourself happy and keeping yourself afloat, there wasn’t anything worth more. 

The path to recovery was never supposed to be easy or linear, but you had him to thank for being the final push. You had to be thankful for each minute of the time he gave you. And each grain of love he showed you in the process. 

You needed the help - for yourself, your past, your present, and your future self. And for every second you spent failing to understand the person you were and the feelings you held onto.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!!!

[sweeterthanficstion]

— coast2coast (pt. two) || l.s.k

pairing: life guard!leon kennedy x surfer!fem!reader

tags: surfing au! set in malibu, 1998, i wrote this with re2 leon in mind but re4 leon works too, UNEDITED! fluff, fluff, fluff

summary: Summer is a fickle thing, sticky-sweet and fleeting, gone before you're ready. You've learnt to love it while it lasts. For you, every summer has been the same—surf, sand, salt-water tides and the hot Malibu breeze. But this summer brings a new sort of challenge, a spotlight your not so sure you're ready for, as well as a boy with golden hair, eyes as blue as the waves, and a way of making your heart rattle between your ribs like it’s desperate to break free.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: ngl yall this actually sucked the life out of me, i'm high on like 3 choccy milks and delirious and tired i have work tmrw i wanna sleep.... anyway thank u cressie for providing me with million ideas this ones to u cheers *raises choccy milk to u* --- also sorry i literally hate writing dialogue but this ended up being more dialogue than anything im so sorry in advance if anything sounds WEIRD </3

playlist⭑series masterlist⭑AO3 || part 1⭑part 2⭑part 3 (coming soon)

You have this recurring dream that feels like a distant memory. Washed in milky sunlight, somewhere in Santa Monica, you lost yourself to hot summer days and salt-water tides, sticky fruit juice running down your arms, and the sting of a sunburn peeling across your shoulders.

The year was 1986, August was young and so were you. You’d learn this year just how quickly it’d slip through your fingers.

Barefoot and sun-dazed, you’d escape to the beach each evening. There, you met a boy by the waves. Older, taller, with sun-bleached hair and sun-kissed cheeks. 

You remember a sunset that bled out over the water that evening, long and golden. His laugh echoed yours, and you smiled when he did. He must’ve been summer personified, you’d concluded. With his hair like sunshine and eyes like the ocean…

You never did learn his name.

You startle awake to the sound of your alarm clock blaring angrily atop your bedside table. Groaning, you slam a groggy hand down on it, killing the noise, and drag yourself out of bed in twenty minutes flat, your surfboard tucked under your arm.

You track the familiar path behind your old oceanfront home, the sandy trail winding its way down the bluff like a lazy ribbon, overgrown with beach grass and wildflowers that nod in the soft morning breeze. Thick sycamore trees stretch their sprawling branches overhead, casting the path in dappled shadows, leaving behind little islands of light that shimmer over the fine sand. It smells like salt and earth, and the faintest hint of blooming jasmine from somewhere you’ve never quite been able to pinpoint.

Ahead of you, at the base of the trail, your view opens up to the rocky cove that cradles your little slice of the coast. Tucked away from prying eyes, smooth stone outcrops rise like bones from the earth, their surfaces slick with sea spray. Between them, shallow rock pools glimmer in the early morning light, and if you look close enough, you’re sure you’ll find tiny crabs skittering to hide under the lichen-covered stone.

You leap from stone to stone, board tucked under your arm all the while. Your bare feet always know exactly where to land without slipping. 

The sandy shore calls to you in the familiar language of gulls overhead and the steady rush and retreat of waves against the rocks. That’s where Claire will be, you know—her board already waxed and her camera slung over her shoulder.

Claire’s love for the ocean has always been as steadfast as yours, but is her own secret language all the same. Where you see the waves as an escape to get lost in, she sees them as her muse. 

By the time she was twelve, her parents had bought her a little film camera, and she’d started seeing the world in snapshots and light leaks.  

Hopping down from the rock, with your board under one arm and your sandals dangling from your fingers, you make your way to the sand. 

You spot Claire easily, a blur of sun-kissed skin and red hair, crouched by the shoreline with her camera in hand.

She must hear you coming, or maybe it’s years of friendship that stirs the feeling in her chest and urges her to look up.

“Morning, sunshine,” she calls, grin as wide as the ocean behind her.

“Morning,” you echo, dropping your board on to the sand before you follow suit, knees bumping hers as you settle beside her. She hands you her wax wordlessly without a second thought, a quiet, easy rhythm of familiarity you’ve both fallen into over the years.

You think that’s why you love her, love this. Corral Beach is stagnant, always will be. Even the tides seem to move in a familiar pattern around here. After years of following your parents around the globe, constantly chasing something new, you think this is what you need.

“You’re slow today,” Claire hums after a while, bumping your shoulder with hers. “Something on your mind?”

You shrug your shoulders instead, unsure of how to put into words the strangeness in your chest after a lingering dream that feels more like deja vu. “Just savouring it. The water’s not going anywhere.”

“Good thing,” she quips, before leaning back on her hands. Her gaze fixes on the horizon for a moment, but Claire’s never been one for small talk, it’s not long before her eyes dart back to you. “So…”

Here it comes.

“Have you thought about that surf comp yet?” She asks, tilting her head at you in the way she does when she’s trying to be casual but failing miserably.

You groan in dramatics, dragging out the sound as your head falls back. “Claire.”

“What?” She feigns innocence. “It’s not like I’m saying you have to sign up right this second.”

“Not happening,” you sing-song, getting to your feet and taking your board with you. 

“Oh, c’mon! Don’t be like that,” she rolls her eyes, watching you make your way towards the water.

“Can’t hear you!” you shout dramatically, cupping your hand around your ear is if the waves are just too loud. 

She raises an eyebrow, her grin sharpening into something knowing. “Oh, you heard me.”

“Nope, not a word!” you call back with a shrug, and before she can press further, you break into a sprint, your feet kicking up sprays of sand as you rush toward the shoreline.

You can hear Claire laughing as you wade into the cool surf, the water rushing up eagerly to greet you. She doesn’t follow with her longboard in tow, and when you look over your shoulder, the rising sun warming your back, you see her still at the shore, camera held at the ready as she flashes you a thumbs up instead.

The ocean seems to move in whispers beneath you, gentle ripples that build into the promise of a wave. You see it first—a set forming, steady and clean, beckoning you like a siren's call you can’t deny. You paddle out towards it, letting the swell lift you effortlessly. The ocean is alive beneath you, humming its own rhythm, and you move with it. 

The wave stretches on, long and peeling, giving you time to cut back and forth across its glassy face. You dip low, almost touching the water with your hand, then push into a sharp turn, feeling the spray kiss your legs. 

As the wave softens, you coast to a gentle stop, stepping off your board into the shallow surf. The sand squishes under your toes, and it’s only then you see Claire waving her camera in triumph. 

“That’s the one!” She grins, as you wade back towards her, the waves still lapping at your ankles as if begging you to come back. 

Claire meets you halfway, tilting the camera to show you the screen: It’s the perfect shot of you mid-turn, your board slicing through the wave, sunshine filtering through and catching the spray just right, refracting in tiny rainbows like a million scattered diamonds. You have to admit, you do look killer. 

“Are you gonna upload that one?” you ask, brushing wet hair from your face. 

Claire looks at you like it’s a silly question. “Are you kidding? Look at this, it’s perfect. Surfline is gonna eat this up—and if they don’t, they’re insane.”

Her passion radiates off her in waves like the tide does. Claire’s been at this for months now, chasing every opportunity she can find to get her photos not just noticed, but seen. You’ve just about lost count of how many times she’s sent in shots to Surfline.

“Now c’mon,” she continues, “show me what else you’ve got.”

And you do. Over and over, the waves pulling you in, the ocean pulling you home. By the time the sun rises higher in the sky, Claire’s memory card is nearly full, and you’re sure you’ll be late to your shift at Bunny’s if you let yourself fall into the ocean’s allure for any longer. The cove has started to fill with other locals, the place a well kept secret between surfers wanting a quiet retreat.

Claire waits as you shake the last of the saltwater from your hair—or, well, try to—perched atop the sun-bleached remains of an old tree topped sideways. Her legs swing lazily, her tote bag by her feet.

Something must catch her eye, because suddenly she’s letting out a gasp.

“Holy shit.”

Her voice is nearly reverent. You pause, glancing over your shoulder just in time to see him. 

And yeah, Holy shit.

It’s then you see him again, and it feels like magic watching him cut through the wave he’s catching with the ease of someone who does really know what they’re doing.

Blue-eyed blondie from yesterday is out in the surf, carving through the water like he’s part of it, like he’s spent his whole life learning how to move with it instead of against it. He’s all ease, all instinct, cutting clean lines into the wave before it folds beneath him.

It’s hypnotic. Magic, almost.

“He’s good,” Claire murmurs.

“Yeah,” you breathe, unable to tear your gaze away from him. He is good. Too good for someone who claimed to be just okay.

And then, as if he sensing your gaze, he falters.

A hair-width miscalculation, a break in his rhythm, something or other. Then he’s toppling off his board and crashing into the whitewater with all the grace of a bird missing a branch.

There’s but a breath of silence before Claire cackles. “Poor guy.”

You bite down a smile, shaking your head.

“Do you know him?” Claire asks, jogging to catch up as you start walking back toward the trail, her longboard dragging behind her in the sand. “I’ve never seen him around, I wonder how he knows about the cove.”

“No,” you say too quickly before realising how it sounds, “yes? Sort of.”

Her eyebrows shoot up, as if catching onto something unspoken, and you wish all at once for the ground to swallow you up. “That’s not an answer.”

“I met him at the beach yesterday, he saved my board.”

“Oh,” she says, her tone lifting like something just clicked into place. Then, after a pause: “So…”

“So what?” You glance at her, sounding a little exasperated.

“So… what’s the deal? Did you talk to him? Does he live around here?”

You groan. “Claire, it’s nothing. I don’t know.”

“Mm-hmm,” Her grin spreads wider, brighter, knowing. “You’re antsy.”

“No I’m not!” you say firmly, picking up your pace like it’ll somehow leave this conversation behind.

“Sure,” she hums. “Whatever you say.”

The next time you see him is during the afternoon rush at Bunny’s. 

The late-afternoon heat hangs over Corral Beach, and the diner feels like it’s baking under the weight of too many bodies pressed into too small a space. The air conditioner rattles helplessly above the front counter, but it does little to cut through the syrupy warmth.

You’ve been working at Bunny’s long enough to know the rhythm of summer shifts like the back of your hand, the sound of the kitchen, the clatter of dishes, Claire humming along to the shitty little radio perched atop the front desk.

You’ve got a tray of iced teas balanced on one hand, weaving around chairs, tables, and sketchup sticky toddlers, when the bell over the door jingles.

“Welcome to Bunny’s!” Claire chirps from the register, her voice bright and automatic. 

And you don’t look up at first, mind too occupied on your tasks, but then—

“Uh, hi. I—oh, no, you first. Wait— oh, okay.”

That voice. It lilts over the chatter, low and sweet like something you’ve heard all your life.

You turn instinctively, and there he is—standing awkwardly in the entryway, looking like he’s just wandered off a postcard. Blondie, with his damp hair curling at the ends, a stripe of sand on his forearm, like he didn’t quite get it all off. He’s holding the door open for an older couple, sweet boyish grin across his face as they thank him.

He’s swapped out the lifeguard uniform for a thin cotton shirt, and a puka shell necklace.

You blink, fingers tightening around the tray. You wonder by what twist of fate you’ve managed to run into him again.

“Hey, table four’s waiting on their drinks,” Claire calls, snapping you out of it.

“Right, yeah.” 

You drop your gaze, forcing yourself to focus as you slip between tables, pretending the sight of him doesn’t tie your stomach into some ridiculous knot.

It’s not even like he’ll recognise me, you tell yourself as you weave between tables, dropping drinks off at one and sliding a basket of fries onto another. But when you glance back towards the door, you catch him talking to Claire at the register, and your pulse trips over itself.

You head back toward the counter, heart sinking with every step, trying to avoid his gaze, save yourself from any possible embarrassment, say you trip over your own feet or say something utterly stupid.

But Blondie’s perceptive, apparently, just as he’s about to turn away, he does a double take, like he wasn’t expecting you to be here, like maybe he’s not even sure it’s really you. His brows pinch slightly, lips parting as he huffs an amused breath.

“Guess Malibu’s smaller than I thought,” his voice is smooth where you feel jittery all over.

Claire’s brows shoot up, and you wish the ground would swallow you whole.

“Oh, so you two know each other?” 

He glances at you again, that stupid smile on his lips. “Yeah.”

“No,” you blurt at the same time, you turn to fiddle with the drinks machine to hide the blush on your cheeks. “Well not really,” you mumble.

Leon’s mouth quirks into the faintest of smiles, like you’ve confirmed some suspicion of his. “That clears things up.”

“I don’t know you,” you mumble, more to yourself than him, though it doesn’t sound nearly as dismissive as you’d hoped. It’s true in half, you don’t know him. Don’t even know his name yet. But why then does it feel like you’ve inexplicably known him forever?

“You could,” he offers, voice light, but his expression betrays him—like his own boldness catches him off guard. 

You bite back a smile. “Don’t push it.”

“You’re holding up the line,” Claire chimes in, all too entertained by whatever this is.

There is no line, unless you count the kids loitering by the counter, trying to nonchalantly steal more straws to build their makeshift tower.

Blondie raises his hands as if in surrender, “alright, well what do you suggest?” And he’s looking at you when he asks. 

God, damn him and those eyes. He has a way of making you feel like the center of the world. You clear your throat, slipping back into safe, scripted territory. “We have the best shrimp tacos on this stretch of the PCH,” you say, repeating the slogan on the chalkboard outside with practiced ease.

His smile softens, like maybe he finds your delivery a little more amusing than convincing. “Sure. Shrimp tacos it is.”

Claire rings him up, and he reaches into the pocket of his board shorts, presumably for his wallet, but before he turns away, he hesitates briefly. “Actually— I was wondering if I could ask a favour.”

You quirk a brow. “Uhuh?”

“Was wondering if you could, y’know… show me a few moves.”

You blink. “Moves?”

“Surfing,” he clarifies. 

“You don’t need my help, you’re already great.” You chuckle softly, not exactly sure what to do to hide the heat creeping up your neck now.

His mouth twitches, as if fighting another one of his stupid smirks. “How’d you come to that conclusion?”

“Oh… uh,” You rub the back of your neck, suddenly regretting your words. “This morning. At the cove.”

His lips part slightly before he lets out a short, incredulous laugh. “Malibu can’t be this small.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Anyway, yes or no?”

You narrow your eyes a little, “What’s in it for me?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “You owe me one don’t you, for your board? Unless you’re scared of a little challenge.”

You scoff at that. “Oh, watch it, Blondie.”

The grin lingers, easy and teasing. “It’s Leon,” and something about his voice softens. “You can call me Leon. And you?”

You don’t answer right away, caught up in the way his name rings around your head, the way it suits him somehow—like salt air and early mornings and something easy.

His lips press together, “Alright then,” he murmurs, pushing back from the counter, his eyes still on you. “Keep your secrets, sunshine.”

You roll your eyes but don’t fight the smile that tugs at the corner of your mouth.

His order is up in five, and when you slide the basket of tacos across the counter, there’s a napkin tucked underneath—your name scrawled across it in quick, slightly smudged ink, punctuated with a little smiley face.

likes n reblogs r very much appreciated <3

[go6jo]

(one can only truly feel with their eyes closed) s.gojo

it’s three in the morning and satoru is standing outside your bedroom door, pinching his bottom lip in between his fingers while anxiously awaiting your arrival. you should’ve been back before midnight and there is something unfamiliar stirring inside him, something that is rendering him restless. there is a heavy lump on his throat that is making it hard to swallow and he can feel himself starting to feel sick.

satoru was born bearing the curse of atlas, the world weighing a little too heavy on his shoulders ever since he was little. the body of a child is a frail one and satoru had been too scrawny at the time, bones too fragile to handle all of that weight by himself. he’d fallen on his knees one too many times and had struggled to stand up on his own until he had grown to become something akin to a god, one who barely even knew fear. 

satoru reaches for the phone in the pocket of his sweatpants, waiting for something, a call, a text even - anything to let him know that you’re okay.

however, his head is quick to turn at the sound of heavy footsteps echoing throughout the entire floor when he catches sight of your silhouette emerging from the shadows on the other end of the poorly lit hall. he feels his heart cave in on his chest for you, eyes softening and full of compassion when he notices the sole of your feet dragging laboriously against the floor, weary and sore after being away for so long and having just traveled all the way back here, back to him. 

ten days to be precise. that's how long you’ve been gone. and when you manage to make your way along the seemingly endless corridor, so very tired from your lengthy mission overseas, satoru can visibly see your body cease its fight against gravity as you let yourself collapse into him. he is so quick to guide your arms that had fallen limp by your sides to wrap themselves around him, pulling you closer, craving the proximity after having longed for your touch every day for the past week and a half. he follows it by looping his stronger ones around you, offering you the stability you need, holding you and welcoming you back with a quiet good girl whispered to the crown of your head. 

in the quietude of the moment, while trying to recover from the fretful state he had induced himself into, satoru realizes now that fear has become a constant in his life.

“you’re late” he threads his fingers through your hair, soothing away your fatigue though he thinks he might have just lulled you to sleep because you’re standing so still, breathing so softly. at your lack of response, his hand cups the back of your head tilting it upwards and your lips begin to part, ready to protest but it’s only then, when you meet his gaze, that you become aware of the distress graven on his handsome features, brows furrowed and bottom lip swollen with the indents of his remaining anxiety, teeth merciless as they tried to chew away the nerves in his system.

satoru is always so good at hiding his feelings. he might’ve been terrified out of his mind, but hardly anything gives it away. his voice never wavers when he speaks and his hands have such a steady grip on you that his inner turmoil would’ve almost gone undetected. almost. because concern is so easily discernible in his eyes - his eyes are so honest, as honest as satoru gets. they have always let on more than his words — they’re his biggest strength and yet his biggest weakness, his blindfold keeping any vulnerability from seeping through.

“i know but i'm here” you close your eyes when his thumb rubs the spot between your eyebrows “my flight got delayed and i didn’t wanna wake you up with a phone call”

“i wasn’t sleeping” not until i know you’re safe.

“i’m alright, satoru. im here” you two speak in whispers like two kids sharing a secret, your voice barely audible as you lean your cheek against his chest, a hand rubbing circles over his heart.

a placid wave of silence envelops the two of you in its calm embrace as you take your time to touch, to grab and to squeeze — to let your hands get acquainted with each other’s skin again — you swear you feel him shiver against you, when you caress the skin behind his ear, where you know it’s sensitive.

“let’s get inside, baby.”

you nod against his chest and squeeze him in your arms one last time before you pull away to unlock your bedroom door. you lace your fingers together with his and pull him along, dropping your luggage somewhere in a corner and not even bothering to turn on the lights instead guiding him towards the bed that you’ve shared during so many other nights before — so eager to be cradled in his arms, to drift off in the warmth of his presence. but when satoru drops his head to your shoulder from behind, you halt all movements, stopping in your tracks.

he doesn’t say a word, just moves the palm of his hand gingerly up the skin of your exposed arm, only stopping where the strap of your dress sits on your body, gripping the fabric in his fist, begging to see you, whole. to make sure there is not some invisible force holding you together and that you won't fall apart under his fingers. he still touches you so carefully as if you will.

for a long time now, satoru has worried that the eyes he has relied on throughout his entire life might fail him sooner rather than later. reality can be deceiving and he has grown to harbor a certain skepticism towards it. after all, his best friend had met his demise at his own two hands, had taken his last breath in his arms, however, that unfaithful day in shibuya there he stood, intact - alive. satoru is now imbedded with a constant feeling of uncertainty, doubting what otherwise he would’ve believed to be the undeniable truth.

you lift your hand to rest over his, loosening the grip he has on the fabric of your garment before you slide both straps off your shoulders, letting your dress fall to the ground and revealing your partially nude body to satoru’s prying gaze. he closes his eyes with a sigh that makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise in anticipation. he brushes a few strands away before he presses a kiss to the mound of your neck where your spine protrudes your flesh, where your skin is most tender and delicate, feeling the subtle bumps of your skin against his lips — the way your body reacts to him proof that you’re not just some hallucination. that you’re here. that you’re alive and well. 

he figures he is so much more in tune with his surroundings whenever he’s not looking. his eyes are closed shut yet the way you shudder under him when he runs the tip of his finger up the curve of your spine, the little sounds you make, the gasp that unintentionally escapes your lips when he lays the most gentle of kisses on the shell of your ear — he’d know you anywhere, even with his eyes closed. he knows the way you feel, the way you sound, the way you smell. even blind, his other four senses would still lead him to you.

he touches you until your skin starts feeling feverish under his fingers, wishes you’d just melt into him and would fill in every crevice in his body until he’s so completely covered in you he can barely breathe. and when he needs more, he carries you to bed in his arms then lies you down in the white linen sheets. he reaches for the back of his shirt and tugs it off before taking the spot next to you, yearning for the feeling of his skin against yours.

he kisses your collarbone, left then right, worshiping you whole, paying equal attention to every part of your body, then dips lower to kiss over your sternum. he loves on the freshly inflicted wounds on your skin then proceeds to run his tongue over the newly healed scar that runs diagonally on the flesh of your stomach — your taste, that, too, he has memorized by heart.

“i always come back looking worse than when i left” and it's supposed to be a lighthearted joke because you're smiling and your tone is somewhat playful but it makes satoru wonder if you think he loves you any less because of it.

sometimes it’s hard baring yourself to satoru like this, he knows it. your scar ridden body a striking contrast to his almost pristine, untouched one. however, it’s on nights like this one where you feel closest to him, laying bare your insecurities to him and, in return, he entrusts you with his — more often than not as he impulsively lets them escape his lips in the form of strangled moans against the sweaty skin of your neck, telling you he loves you. don’t ever leave. i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you, too.

“you returned, baby. that’s all that matters.” he utters against your belly then comes to rest on your chest, ear pressed atop your heart.

satoru has grown fond of the sound of your pulse lulling him to sleep, slow and steady. he unwraps his arms from around you, moving his hands up your sides until they settle around your ribs, feeling the way your lungs fill up with air, his head moving up and down, in sync with your heaving chest. he smiles fondly to himself, every heartbeat, every breath you take a reminder of the life flowing inside you.

he looks up, eyes searching for your face after a few minutes have gone by since you stopped playing with his hair. he had wanted to protest but then he takes in the image of you, mouth slightly agape, a subtle frown on your face — an angel lying under him. so fragile, so innocent.

you're sound asleep and satoru is overcome with the intensity of the sheer adoration he feels towards you when he comes to the realization that you had felt so at peace in his arms it had only taken you a couple minutes to doze off. it is as if your body reacts to his presence on its own, telling you that it's okay to let your guard down, that it’s safe around him. to him, there is no bigger privilege than to know his touch brings you such tranquility — that he’s your safe haven.

upon further inspection, however, as his eyes linger on you for a little longer, there’s a cold shiver that makes its way up satoru’s spine when he notices how still you are, barely even moving. apart from the subtle rise and fall of your chest, you’re so inert, so lethargic. so lifeless.

and suddenly it is as if there is not enough oxygen in the room as he finds himself gasping for air, lungs growing heavier by the minute as he starts to drown in mirages of your inanimate body in his arms, hands clammy and fingers digging into the flesh of your ribs instinctively, out of desperation, as if he’s trying to stay afloat.

he calls out your name once, and he would’ve felt bad for waking you up but, right now, he can’t even seem to think straight. he could be so selfish at times still you never resented him for it. so he calls for you again.

you don’t answer at first, his voice too weak to even pull you out of sleep. satoru hoists himself up on the bed, lying sideways next to you, his body looming over yours as he brushes the strands of hair that are sticking to your forehead away from your face — your complexion looks so much paler under the moonlight.

“baby.” he calls in between heavy breaths, eyes frantic searching for something. anything. this time you stir in your sleep, turning around and nuzzling into the crook of his neck as if seeking for the heat of his body on instinct alone. he sighs releasing some of the tension inside him “baby.” though there is still a hint of urgency in his voice.

“im sleepy, satoru” he can barely hear you as you bury yourself deeper into his neck.

“i know, baby. i know” he tries to soothe you, cradling your head closer to him but pulling you away from him just as quick, grabbing your cheeks in between the palms of his hands and gently holding your head up to take a look at you instead. your eyes remain closed, still so heavy with sleep.

“just need you to say my name.” it sounds like a desperate plea.

“satoru.” you barely even manage to mumble as you lean deeper into his touch, lips brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside of his hand. moving only on instinct still, too drowsy to even make sense of what is happening, to notice his agony.

“that’s it.” he pecks you on the lips “again.” he is trailing kisses across your cheeks, his breath heavy on your skin when he begs you in a quivering voice “please."

the feeling of his hands shivering against you it’s what gradually rouses you, opening your eyes only to be met with his wide-eyed gaze, pupils fully blown out in the dark, alert with fear.

you know how he gets, it isn’t the first time this happens yet it never fails to alarm you. you’d seen it in his eyes many times before and you’d seen it again earlier tonight, when you arrived, tenuous yet just waiting for the smallest trigger to so easily turn into something out of control.

it's as if he's suddenly put in a trance and nobody can pull him out of it. his hands start wandering everywhere and in a rather frenetic way, feeling around your skin as if he has gone blind. hands fumbling to hold whatever is within their reach, clenching whatever it is you're wearing in his fists, searching for something that you can’t quite understand.

you never know what to say, you can only hold him in hopes it will pass. you hold him and coddle him, whisper words of reassurance in his ear in hopes that you can be as much of a source of comfort to him as he is to you.

he apologizes afterwards, he always does. apologizes for needing you so much that sometimes it drives him close to insanity. then he always whispers a thank you from under his breath, thank you for letting me rely on you, but he barely ever does, only when he so desperately needs it — when it’s him lending others his strength, being relied on, who says thank you to him.

you sit up in bed, extending your hand towards him, waiting for him to take it. you pick him up when he does and you let a hand wrap around the back of his head, guiding him to rest on your shoulder.

“satoru, satoru, satoru.” you whisper against the shell of his ear while stroking his hair. he thinks he could fall sleep right here, like this.

please, lean on me, too.

i got you, you don’t have to be strong all the time.

 if you let me, i can be strong for the both of us. satoru thinks he knows what you’re trying to tell him.

“i’ll say it as many times as you need.”

once again, he is so overwhelmed by his profound infatuation that it is as if his love has grown a will of its own, as if it has grown fangs when his teeth sink, unwarranted, into the skin of your shoulder, love wishing to seep itself deep into your bloodstream. “want you whole.”

“so greedy.” you wince quietly, nonchalantly against his snowy hair and he runs the tip of his nose up the side of your neck.

he keeps on nibbling on the tender skin of your jaw, as if he’s hungry and trying to prove a point. that if he so wished to, if he was greedy enough, vile enough, he’d devour you full.

“i'm the greediest, baby” for what is love if not greed. is it not wanting to consume the other person and let yourself be consumed in return? for his entire life, satoru has known nothing but an insatiable hunger. always wanting more, always needing more. gluttonous for more, more, more. in the end, he always managed to get what he wants and he doesn’t hold back, you never asked him to either.

he knows he owns you wholly, that you placed your soul, mind and body fully on the palm of his hand and he doesn’t think he could ever settle for less. doesn’t think his hunger would ever be satiated with less than a handful of you.

he places a trail of kisses that goes down to your shoulder again and he pulls away from your skin with one last kiss to the spot where he left a mark. a mark that is so unlike any other in your body. one that comes from love.

“i'm sorry that i need you so much” he envelops you in the tightest of embraces, touching his heart with yours.

he wishes you understand that he’s apologizing for so many other things, too. he’s sorry that he can’t give himself to you the same way you’ve given yourself to him. you’ve always kept your heart so willingly open to him yet it seems that he only ever allows you a glimpse into the heart inside his chest on nights like this, when fear holds him in it’s strong, relentless grip or when he’s falling apart at the feeling of being inside in you, body panting above yours, too lost in his own pleasure. only then does he allow himself to be vulnerable with you, spilling all of his heart's content into your distracted ears — when he thinks you’re far too gone to listen, to truly acknowledge his feelings — but you treasure every single moment of fragility of his, for they are so scarce, listening attentively even when he thinks you don’t.

“say my name one last time” he breathes against your ear.

here, in these sheets, satoru pretends to forget his name and the burden that inescapably comes with it. he forgets the world needs him and lets himself need you instead, just this once. — just this once, he’ll pretend to be the weak one, the one who needs saving and finds a shelter in your arms.

“satoru…” your words are spoken barely above a whisper, like they’re meant just for him.

“again” he connects his lips with yours and holds the back of your neck with one hand, the other resting on your lower back for support as he dips both of you down onto the mattress.

and you say it. again. and then again. not because he asks you to but because satoru knows how to get what he wants. he pries his name out of your lips as he trails open mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, forces it out of you in the form a laughter as he nibbles on the inside of your thighs, tickling you with his breath and ultimately earns it in moan that you cry as a prayer when he sinks down on the mattress and makes a home in between your legs — until you're chanting his name over and over again, sobbing that you love him, you love him, you love him.

he smiles to himself, does it half smugly, half earnestly. satoru is now twenty eight and his shoulders a little lighter, the world fitting all too perfectly in this queen sized bed.