#makes enjoying dark stuff more difficult than needs to be

[bestieflexie]

yo for anyone that keeps up with lil blog, i am going to take a big break from f&h cuz of personal reason i really dont want to get into much detail so later.

[solelifauna]

So this NOT to imply the writing is bad

But so far the Batfam fic as me genuinely shaking in anger , the fact that dick is convinced that y/n as to prove herself to be "worthy" genuinely got to me to the point I need a pallete cleanser

Could we please get a small drabble of reader growing close with one of the "outside" batfam members?

Like maybe Kate(batwoman) and Luke (batwing) because they are under used

Or hell, maybe to really grind the family gears, reader gets close to azrael

(you know Bruce would've able to do shit if reader got close with Kate, she would fucking eat him alive)

Hey, You're all good bro! I also just want to put out that my fic is based on an au! The portrayals of any characters in my fic are based off of their canon and fanon counterparts, just with my own twist. Since this is a darker universe/au, the Bats along with other heroes are going to be a lot more brutal and jaded.

Also love your idea bro. But, I'll do you one better. Constantine. Bruce absolutely can't stand him and the reader being friends with/getting along with him? Oh, that's bound to grind Bruce's gears. It would also be easier to meet Constantine too.

Let's just say one day the reader gets caught up in some Justice League Dark stuff that Constantine is trying to solve. She gets kidnapped by a cult that wants to use her as a sacrifice. I mean, she is a pretty huge target, being the daughter of a Billionaire after all. Anyways, shes kidnapped, nobody is coming to get her, not from her family at least. Long story short, Constantine arrives too late to stop the ritual, but things don't go according to plan for the cultists anyway. Turns out that the person sacrificed wouldn't be killed, but would instead become a vessel.

Great, now you have some old, eldrich being living rent-free in your mind. The being is old, donning the title "Keeper of Hell", but you'll just call it (they? him? her?), Adam. Yeah, Adam wasn't too happy with the name. When Constantine arrives, however, hes pleasantly surprised to find you alive. When he realizes that you, a 15-year-old, now carry the presence and power of an eldritch being older than Gotham itself, he groans while lighting up a cigarette. Looks like he'd have to deal with you now.

He checks over you making sure you have no internal and external injuries before explaining your situation. He feels a little sorry for you, but he is in no condition to train you. He asks around to other JL dark members, hoping to see if anyone is willing to help you control your new powers. He sighs again when nobody steps up to the plate, too busy with their own sidekicks and quests.

Reluctantly, he tells you he'd help you figure stuff out. And there begins the blossoming of the amazing "Grumpy old man and kid they didn't ask for" troupe. When you tell Constantine your name, he blanks, because of course he gets stuck with one of the bat's kids. However, based on your tone of voice when discussing your family (and the way you begged him not to let Bruce/Batman know of your predicament), he's guessing things aren't all too great between you all. Well, thats not his problem, his only job was to train you and make sure you don't end up accidentally killing someone.

Yeah...like that thought process is going to last. Training sessions start out bleak and professional, he's only doing a job. Then as time continues, he finds himself enjoying your company, your enthusiasm to learn and your rambunctious/sarcastic comebacks always have him fighting off a smile. It's been a while since he's had company like this. Soon, you're both going out on missions, and then ice cream breaks afterward. He lets you fall asleep on his shoulder, drooling all over his trench coat after particularly difficult missions and he can't bring himself to mind.

He's fond of you, although he never admits it out loud. It's okay though, because even though he's never said it out loud, his actions speak louder than words. You could feel his love and pride for you. Although he wasn't exactly your dad per se, he was still something to you, maybe the wine uncle? You don't know, and you don't particularly care to put a label on what Constantine was to you, you're just glad that he's there.

Shit hits the fan, however, when one day you decide to go on a solo mission. It's nothing crazy, just getting rid of some poltergeists and low-level demons and shades. Now, were you given permission to go on this mission alone? No, but in a normal teenage manner, you decide to go anyway. Everything was fine, you got rid of all the poltergeists in the area and even some of the shades too! It's all going well until you realize that the demon mentioned before was not as weak as you were told. You gulped when its blood red eyes turned to you.

"Well shit." Constantine was going to kill you.

It immediately lunges at you, you barely rolling out of its sharp claws. You hit it with a couple of spells, causing the demon to roar out in pain, burn marks now littering its side. Its tail whips at you, colliding with your stomach as you fly into a wall with a loud thud. You groan as you pick yourself up, clutching your ribs, each breath a jagged pain that ripples through your chest. Your arm is slick with blood, the gashes from the demon's claws burning as if its very essence were trying to sear your flesh. You grit your teeth and weave another spell, calling on Adam’s power to knock the demon back. This time, a burst of raw energy slams into it, shattering its leg with a sickening crack.

For a brief moment, you think it's over, ready to strike the final blow. But the demon’s leg snaps back into place, bone and flesh knitting together as if the injury had never happened.

“Of course,” you mutter under your breath. “Why would this be easy?”

The demon lunges again, and you’re just a split second too slow. Burning pain flares through your right arm as its claws tear into you, ripping through your flesh like paper. You scream, the sound involuntary, but you push through the pain, refusing to go down without a fight.

Drawing back, you unleash another spell, a sharp projectile of energy aimed at its neck. The demon flinches, letting out a low growl. That reaction—panic—gives you the first glimmer of hope. Its neck. That's its weak spot.

With renewed determination, you gather every ounce of strength you have left. The cuts across your body throb, and your arm feels like it’s on fire, but you push it all aside. You can do this. You have to do this.

You unleash a volley of cutting spells, each one aimed at the demon’s throat. It fights back viciously, throwing you around the room with a strength that makes your vision blur. Every hit you take feels like your bones are splintering, but you keep going. You keep attacking.

Finally, one of your spells strikes true.

The demon lets out a gurgling screech as your spell cuts deep into its neck. Blood—thick and dark—pours from the wound, and it claws at its own throat, choking. Its body spasms violently, and then, as if collapsing in on itself, it begins to disintegrate. In a few seconds, all that’s left is dust.

You stand there, panting, barely able to process the fact that you did it. You won. A grin spreads across your face, and despite the pain radiating from every part of your body, you let out a weak cheer.

But the celebration is short-lived.

Pain cuts through you like a knife, sharp and sudden, reminding you of just how battered you are. Blood is still oozing from the various gashes across your body, and your arm feels like it’s hanging by a thread. You stumble, nearly falling, but catch yourself at the last second.

“Crap… I’m bleeding out,” you mumble, wincing. “Whoops.”

With what little energy you have left, you remember the spell Constantine taught you, the one that would tether you to him no matter where you were. He warned you not to use it unless it was an emergency—and bleeding out from demon-inflicted wounds definitely qualifies.

You lift your shaking hand and cast the spell, a sluggish flick of your wrist sending out a ripple of energy. A portal forms, shimmering and unstable, but functional enough. Without much grace, you stumble through it, disappearing from the demon’s lair.

What you didn’t know, however, was that Constantine was currently in a Justice League meeting.

The first thing you feel is a sudden drop, like the ground beneath you has vanished. You barely register the sensation of falling before you crash, hard, onto something solid. Groaning, you blink through the haze of pain and find yourself sprawled across a massive table.

You can hear voices—muffled, alarmed—but the world is spinning too much for you to focus. All you know is that you're lying on something cold and hard, and you’re absolutely drenched in blood.

Forcing your eyes open, you see several figures standing around you, staring in shock. Your vision is blurry, but you can make out Superman’s cape and Wonder Woman’s armor. You try to process what's happening, but the pain in your arm and ribs keeps pulling you under.

"Ow, ow, ow, ow. Fuckkkk." You cry out.

Suddenly, the scent of smoke fills the air. You don't even have to look to know who it is. Constantine’s familiar trench coat brushes against your arm as he crouches beside you, cigarette dangling loosely from his lips. His eyes flicker with a dangerous mix of exasperation and barely concealed anger.

“What in the bloody fuck, kid?” he snaps, his tone harsher than usual, but the concern underlies his words.

You wince, the situation hitting you all at once. Crap. Now I've got to deal with this.

You muster a weak, sheepish grin, wincing as you turn your head to face him. “Heyyy Constantine, how are ya?”

His brow furrows deeper, and he’s clearly not amused. “What did you do?”

You swallow hard, trying to think of how to explain yourself without getting ripped to shreds—verbally or otherwise. “I—well, promise you won’t get mad?”

“Too late for that, kid. I’m already halfway there,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he looks over your wounds. “Now get to it.”

You bite your lip, trying to find the least disastrous way to explain. “So… I sorta… mighta… gone on a solo demon-hunting mission,” you blurt out quickly, hoping he’d just move past it.

The way Constantine’s eyes widen, and the immediate twitch in his jaw tell you that he’s definitely not going to move past it.

“You did what?!” His voice rises as he stands up, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh bloody— I thought I specifically told you not to go by yourself! And this is what happens!”

“Hey, well, I’m alive, aren’t I?” you say, grinning nervously, trying to play it off.

“That’s besides the point!” He throws his arms up, pacing as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. “Bloody hell, I should’ve known better with you kids. I swear, this is why I never—”

Just then, a dark, grim voice cuts through the chaos, and your heart nearly stops.

“Constantine,” Batman’s tone is low, authoritative. “Why is my daughter bleeding on our table?”

Oh no. No, no, no. Not now.

You freeze, your mind going blank as you feel the weight of Batman’s presence at the end of the table. You slowly, painfully turn your head to see him standing there, cape draped over his shoulders, his gaze icy and locked onto you. His usual stoic expression somehow looks even more intense.

“Ah… shit,” you mutter under your breath, groaning inwardly as you realize you’ve just landed yourself in the absolute worst situation imaginable. “I completely forgot he was still here.” Wait, did you say that out loud?

Constantine gives you a sidelong glance, raising an eyebrow. “Yes, kid, you did. And now we’ve got more than just your wounds to worry about, don’t we?” He sighs deeply, rubbing his temples, already anticipating the fallout.

Batman’s eyes narrow, arms crossed as he takes a step closer to you, his voice low and dangerous. “Care to explain yourself?”

You’re still bleeding, your head is pounding, and you’re pretty sure at least a few bones are broken, but none of that compares to the fear creeping up your spine as you look up at your father. Your mind races for an answer, but every excuse you can think of feels flimsy at best.

Constantine clears his throat, sensing the rising tension in the room. “Right. Let’s get her fixed up before this turns into an interrogation, yeah? Kid’s bleeding all over the place, and she’s already taken a beating. We’ll save the lecture for later.” He waves his hand, muttering something under his breath as he kneels beside you again.

The tension between Constantine and Batman lingers in the air, thick and heavy, but Batman finally relents. His eyes soften—slightly—as he watches Constantine work to stabilize your injuries with magic.

You can feel yourself growing weaker, the adrenaline finally wearing off as the pain becomes unbearable. Constantine mutters a healing spell, one that slows the bleeding and knits some of the less serious cuts together. It's not perfect, but it’s enough for now.

“I think it’s time to get you all fixed up, huh?” Constantine says softly, his earlier anger tempered by concern as he helps you sit up, his hand firm on your back to support you.

You nod weakly, not daring to meet Batman’s eyes again. You’re in deep trouble, but for now, at least, you’re still breathing. As Constantine gets ready to teleport you to a safer place to heal, you hear Batman’s voice, calm but steely.

“We’re not done here.”

And with that ominous promise hanging in the air, Constantine picks you up, and the world around you shifts once again.

Constantine gently carries you through the halls toward the Justice League’s med bay, muttering curses under his breath with every step. You could feel his frustration radiating off him, and now, in the quiet aftermath of the fight, guilt begins to settle in your chest. The adrenaline from the battle has worn off, and now you're left with the consequences of your reckless actions.

“Hey, Constantine… I—I’m sorry for not listening to you. I really am,” you say, your voice soft and heavy with regret.

He sighs, not looking at you, but his tone is stern. “I’m not going to lie and say I’m not mad at you, kid. You didn’t just ignore my warnings—you put yourself in danger. There are rules for a reason. What if you got seriously hurt and couldn’t cast a spell back to me? Even worse, what if you died or got possessed?”

His words hit you hard, and you wither under the weight of them. You know he’s right. All those rules and restrictions aren’t just him being overprotective or controlling, they’re because he cares. He’s seen the kind of darkness that can swallow people whole, and the thought of that happening to you terrifies him, even if he’ll never say it out loud.

By the time you reach the med bay, the guilt feels like it’s pressing down on you as much as the pain in your ribs. Constantine lowers you onto a cot, tucking you in with a gruff gentleness that only he could pull off. He sits down on the side of the bed, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with a quick flick of his fingers, his eyes never leaving yours.

“What I’m trying to say, kid,” he starts, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “is that I care. I care about you, I care about what happens to you. I don’t want—” He pauses, his voice softening. “I don’t want to ever have to find your body one day. So please, from now on, let me know before you do something stupid like this.”

His words hang in the air, raw and unfiltered. You nod, trying to process it all, and then something clicks in your mind. Wait… did he just say let him know?

“Let you know? Does this mean—” Your eyes widen as realization hits you. “Does this mean I can go on solo missions?”

Constantine lets out a resigned sigh. “Yes, yes, you can start going on solo missions—”

“Hell yeah!” you exclaim, sitting up a little too quickly. Pain shoots through your ribs, but you can’t help the excitement bubbling inside you.

“—but, only the ones I sanction and authorize,” Constantine finishes, cutting through your excitement with a stern look. You deflate a little at his words, but it’s still a victory in your book.

Without thinking, you throw your arms around him, ignoring the sharp pain it causes in your ribs. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you! I promise I won’t let you down!”

He chuckles, patting your back awkwardly before pulling away. “Yeah, yeah, I know you won’t. Now, lay back down and get some rest. You still have dark and brooding to deal with.” He gestures toward the direction of the meeting room, clearly dreading the inevitable confrontation with Batman. “And by extension, I do too,” he adds with a heavy sigh.

You groan, sinking back into the cot, the exhaustion finally catching up with you. “I don’t know why he even cares. If he did, he would’ve figured this out ages ago.”

Constantine glances at you, his expression softening for a moment. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before speaking. “He cares, kid. He just… doesn’t always show it the way you want him to. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel it.”

You scoff, though part of you knows he’s right. “Yeah, well, doesn’t feel like it.”

Constantine stands, taking one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into a nearby ashtray. “Doesn’t matter how it feels right now. The Bat’s going to want answers, and if I know him, he’s going to want to have a very long talk with you. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

You wince at the thought of the upcoming conversation, knowing that Batman’s interrogation will be thorough and far less forgiving than Constantine’s.

“Great,” you mutter, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the cot. “Just what I need.”

Constantine gives you a small, almost affectionate smile before turning to leave. “Get some rest, kid. You’ve earned it. I’ll deal with the big bad Bat for now.”

And with that, he walks out, leaving you alone in the med bay. As much as you’re dreading what’s to come, you can’t help but feel a sense of relief. Despite the pain and the mistakes you made, you know that Constantine’s got your back. And, maybe, just maybe, Batman does too, even if it’s buried under a mountain of brooding and silence.

For now, though, you let the exhaustion pull you under, trusting that everything else can wait until tomorrow.

-

As you rest, your body finally succumbing to the exhaustion, your breathing evens out and your mind drifts into sleep. The med bay is quiet, sterile, but the tension in the air lingers, waiting for the inevitable. Eventually, a dark, caped figure glides into the room silently, his form casting long shadows across the walls.

Batman—no, Bruce—stands over you, his sharp eyes tracing every bruise, every cut that mars your face. His jaw clenches as a million thoughts swirl in his head, none of them offering any comfort.

What the hell happened to you? Why are you and Constantine so close? How did you even know Constantine? How much had he missed—how little attention had he been paying—to not notice any of this?

Bruce sighs, a deep and frustrated sound. He removes his cowl, setting it on the side table with a weary hand. Without it, he seems less intimidating, less imposing. He stares down at you, seeing the cuts and bruises marking your skin, but what hits him harder is the way your face, in sleep, is still so achingly young. You're his daughter, and yet it feels like you're a stranger to him now.

How did you get so far away?

He knows the answer. The fault lies with him, with the choices he made, the excuses he repeated to himself—telling himself he was too busy, telling himself he would check in later. Later never came, though, and the space between you widened, until it wasn't just him you were drifting away from, but your brothers too.

Bruce noticed the way your brothers treated you, the harsh words, the cold shoulders. He saw the distance, but he justified it, telling himself it was sibling rivalry or something that would pass. He didn't step in. And now, as he looks at you lying there, bruised and battered from a fight he wasn’t even aware of, the reality sinks in: he has no excuse.

With a heavy sigh, Bruce reaches out, his rough but careful hand carding gently through your hair. The gesture is tender, hesitant, as if he's not sure whether he has the right to touch you like this anymore. But as his fingers comb through your hair, you stir in your sleep, a quiet murmur escaping your lips as you unconsciously lean into his touch. It's such a sweet, innocent moment, and for a brief second, Bruce allows himself to feel the warmth of it.

But the moment is fleeting.

He feels the presence before he sees it, the unmistakable smell of cigarette smoke filling the room. His jaw tightens as his hand stills. He doesn’t turn right away, but his voice cuts through the silence.

“Constantine,” Bruce says, his tone gruff even without the cowl to disguise it.

Constantine steps into the room more fully, leaning against the wall, a half-smoked cigarette between his lips. He regards Bruce with that same nonchalance he carries everywhere, though there's a flicker of something else in his eyes—something more cautious.

"Thought you’d still be brooding over in the corner," Constantine says, taking a drag of his cigarette. His eyes drift to you, lying peacefully on the cot. “Didn’t expect to see this version of you.”

Bruce doesn’t respond right away. He pulls his hand back from your hair, his gaze hardening. "What happened?" The question is direct, but underneath it, Constantine can hear the concern, the frustration Bruce doesn't voice aloud.

"She went off on her own," Constantine mutters, taking another drag before blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Went after a demon. Got roughed up pretty bad, but she handled it in the end. Strong kid. Stubborn too. Wonder where she gets that from, eh?"

Bruce's eyes narrow. "And you let her?"

"Let her?" Constantine laughs, a short, sharp sound. "Mate, I didn’t let her. She went behind my back, just like she’s gone behind yours for who knows how long. Difference is, I’m the one she actually came back to.”

That lands like a punch to Bruce's gut. He doesn’t react visibly, but Constantine can see the tension in his posture.

"I didn't know she was…" Bruce starts, then stops, shaking his head. The words feel inadequate. "I didn't know she was involved with this stuff, i didn't even know she was a meta. Or that she knew you."

"Yeah, well, she found her way to me," Constantine says with a shrug, stubbing out his cigarette on the wall. “And she's not a meta by the way, she's a vessel for some eldritch being"

A vague expression of surprise appears on Bruce's face.

"I don't blame you, mate. I was surprised to find her alive afterwards. Not just anyone survives that kind of transformation, she's strong.”

Bruce crosses his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Constantine. “I know she’s strong.”

“Do you?” Constantine raises an eyebrow, the challenge clear in his tone. “Because she’s been running herself ragged trying to prove it. To you. To herself. And, hell, maybe to me too, but at least I see it.”

There’s silence for a moment. Bruce clenches his jaw, turning to look at you again, sleeping soundly despite the tension in the room. He knew Constantine was right. You'd been pushing yourself, fighting to show that you didn’t need them—that you were strong enough on your own. And he had let you. He'd let you because he didn't even care to notice.

Constantine sighs, sensing the weight of the silence. “Look, I didn’t come here to throw stones. But you’ve got to get your shit together with her. She’s tough, but she’s still a kid, and she’s your kid. She needs you.”

Bruce doesn’t answer, but his silence speaks volumes. He watches you, the soft rise and fall of your chest, and feels the regret gnawing at him.

“I’ll handle it,” Bruce finally says, though the words feel hollow.

Constantine gives him a long look, then nods. “You better. Because if you don’t, she’ll be right back with me..”

With that, Constantine pushes off the wall, flicking away the last of his cigarette. “I’ll check in on her later. Try not to fuck this up, mate.” And with one last glance at you, Constantine leaves, the tension in the room ebbing with him.

Bruce remains, standing over you, his mind a whirlwind of regret, guilt, and the desire to fix what’s been broken for far too long. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead—something he hasn’t done in what feels like years—before stepping back, pulling the chair beside your bed to sit vigil over you.

He’s still not sure how to bridge the gap, but for now, he stays. It’s a start.

Well, thats all folks! I really enjoyed writing this au, so thanks for the idea! Maybe ill even make a pt. 2 to this? Who knows? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it.

[l0sercat]

Yandere alphabet with/ Logan Howlett

A/n: Obviously this deals with yandere stuff which is dark, but only is r*pe mentioned in the letter H so just skip that if it makes you uncomfy. MDNI for my safety and yours.

Affection — how do they show their love and affection?

Pet names/Nicknames and light kisses and touches. He wants to respect your boundaries, but he just needs to touch you. Don't worry though that's about how far as it goes unless you want him to go further!

Blood — how messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He will kill everyone in his way and everyone who wants to hurt you. You will always be safe with him, no one is spared <3

Cruelty — how would they treat their darling once abducted?

Your treated really nice sure your locked up in a cabin miles away from life. But hey it could be worse and at least it's cozy. You get to keep your clothes and the shackle on your ankle is long enough so you can go anywhere in the house. It also is padded so it doesn't bruise you! Logan may not be a good cook, but his eggs and toast are decent! He will always make sure your fed properly<3

Darling — aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Calling them names reserved for lovers, touching them briefly and kisses. A light touch on the hips or back and a quick peck on the forehead or lips. Nothing extreme because he knows anything else is to far.

Exposed — how vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He may be softer with you but he still doesn't let all his walls down. He smiles more but he is self aware that you don't want this and don't love him for real which hurts. But when is very sleepy or drunk he is really open and vulnerable.

Fight — how would they feel if their darling fought back?

He doesn't enjoy it at all and he just shakes his head. It's pointless he doesn't know why you do it. You harm yourself more than harming him.

Game — is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It's not a game and it freaks him out when he sees you've tried to escape. He finds you quickly and his heart aches when he has you caged in his arms kicking and screaming for help and for him to let you go.

Hell — what would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

You scream insults at him and bring up all his faults. You mock him and bring up the fact how he was to scared of rejection he had to kidnap you to secure you. He doesn't take to kindly to that and slaps you hard and pins you to the bed and.... Yeah that was the first and last time he took advantage of you. He still feels bad about it and he hates how you barely talk back to him. You just give into him, but at least your more compliant to his touches.

Ideals — what kind of future do they have in mind for their darling?

Where your just the sweetest thing that is loyal to him the way he is loyal to you. Your always hugging him or at least have a hand on him. You cook the meals while he goes to his job. He just wants a simple life with you <3

Jealousy — do they get jealous? How do they handle it?

If he does get jealous he'll just kill the person or beat them up badly. They're talking about you inappropriately well expect them to be found in the alley torn to shreds.

Kisses — how do they act around or with their darling?

He is sweet and treats you with care. He may put up a persona with other people but with you he is his real self to an extent.

Love letters — how would they go about approaching their darling?

He tries to run into you normally, but he intimidated you so brushed by him. He tries to stop but you but the words get stuck in his throat and decides he'll just take you because this was too difficult lol.

Mask — are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Duhhhh he is a stone to other people and comes off standoffish. But with you he is so caring and is always calling you pet names hoping you'll call him one back.

Naughty — how would they punish their darling?

Slaps here and there wether on your face or ass, you can choose. Deprive you of your senses is reserved for when you do something terrible. He will never do anything that will leave lasting marks.

Oppression — how many rights would they take away from their darling?

Just a few. Your freedom is one, only he gets to decide where and when you go places. He will bathe you from time to time.

Patience — how patient are they with their darling?

His patience is stretched thin but he tries to keep it composed. If he can't hold it together don't blame him please he has a bit of a anger problem :(<3

Quite — if their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

If darling dies he is distraught and no longer himself. He drinks 24/7 and prays for death so he could see you again. He doesn't stop blaming himself. If darling leaves he is tracking you down. He is finding you in less than 48hours thanks to his good sense of smell and hearing.

Regret — would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling?

Yes he'll occasionally reflect on it and it stings, but he tries not to dwell on it. Because I'm the end you ended up with him and who could ask for more!

Stigma — what brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Probably his past, he lost one partner he doesn't want to lose another. So when someone catches his eye he just needs to make sure they are safe and what's safer than at his little cabin.

Tears — how do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He doesn't like them screaming it loud and annoying and crying he enjoys (he finds it hot) Your not able to isolate your self but if you try he'll just laugh at your attempt tell you stop the nonsense. If you don't he'll leave you alone for a day to cool off.

Unique — would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He wouldn't hurt your family and friends. He may threaten them to silence you, but he would never hurt them. He knows how it feels to lose people that are close. He doesn't want you to go through that. He will occasionally let you visit them, but if he thinks anything fishy is going on he is running outta there with you being held bridal style.

Vice — what weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

How he can be a softy for you and only you. If you play your cards right you may be able to have him let you hang out with your friends and hope they'll be able to help you escape.

Wit’s end — would they ever hurt their darling?

Maybe a slap and a little slice from his claws, but nothing permanent and too painful. He loves you even though you act out from time to time.

Xoanon — how much would they revere or worship their darling?

He doesn't worship you, but he would go to hell and back for you. He would burn the world down for you. He priorities your safety above all else.

Yearn — how long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

I give it two weeks or a month, but no longer than five months. He's never been a patient man. He can't help it! He just wants you safe in his arms!<3

Zenith — would they ever break their darling?

I don't see him breaking them, but in the multiverse there may be a broken darling. But only because he was too rough with them and kept them chained in a basement. Poor baby is scared and traumatized that you may leave him or you accidentally get hurt and die. :'( <3 If darling does break he will be hurt and try to help them and if letting them go means helping them he will let them go. Hopes they get better over time(he is always watching) and when they do get better he is taking them back.

[pinkroseblooms]

obsessedloner!Choso/chubby!f!Reader pt.2

Summary: in the second part to this modern college au, obsessive loner!Choso goes too far; reader deals with the consequences of his need to keep you close to him and him alone when he feels like you're at risk of gaining the attentions of an even more popular classmate. Yet another self indulgent piece of work, but sue me, I couldn't stop writing this all day. Enjoy!

Warnings: toxic behavior, obsessive/possessive behavior, jealousy, emotional manipulation, smut, mating press, rough sex, hurt/comfort, talks of low self esteem, clingy, needy!Choso, begging, crying, break downs, and borderline yandere!Choso, and other less than healthy relationship dynamics.

wc: 5.3k

The birthday cake was placed on the teacher’s desk: the majority of your speech class had decided that since Satoru Gojo’s birthday was coinciding with the last week of exams before break, it would be fun to have a small party. You volunteered to bake the cake; the professor gave permission to use his classroom that afternoon, with the condition the space was tidied up afterward and things didn’t get too rowdy. It was going to be a nice opportunity to celebrate the coming holiday season and the student who was arguably the school’s golden boy. Even those who didn’t like Gojo’s flippant arrogance and teasing nature admired his work ethic and almost supernatural intelligence, to say nothing of his undeniably pretty face. 

Choso was only there because he knew you were attending and in charge of bringing the requested birthday cake. He didn’t feel one way or the other about Gojo, but he would gladly be by your side, eager to hear the compliments your baking would receive and also to make sure no picky eaters decided to get nit picky and spoil your mood. Truly, Choso had been happy on your behalf to hear you had agreed to help with the party. He certainly wouldn’t think to go out of his way to do something like this for people he didn’t really know outside of a forty five minute, twice a week class. Choso was more than proud to be the boyfriend of a person so thoughtful and generous to a fault; it was one of the reasons he fell so hard in the first place. You never needed a special reason to be kind to someone. And of course, it helped that you were still the most adorable thing he had ever seen in his life and the last few months had been nothing short of heaven.

Except, the cake was red velvet. Choso stands by the teacher’s desk, staring at the cake. It was his favorite flavor. He told you that not long ago and you had promised the first time you made it, it would be for him. 

The cake is beautifully, painstakingly decorated, a perfect ratio of cake and fluffy frosting, sprinkled in bits of dark chocolate; the matching icing spells out ‘Happy Birthday, Satoru!’ in delicate, looping letters across the top. You obviously put a lot of care into making this for Gojo. That afternoon you had been the first person to arrive, followed shortly by another student, Suguru Geto; he wasn’t in the same speech class, but he was Gojo’s best friend and knew some of the class already, so inviting him was a given. The two of you had left to find a lighter and candles, hoping the school store in the basement of the building would provide something suitable. You told Choso he didn’t need to come; you noticed he had seemed a bit drained from studying and his recently acquired part time job, so you insisted he just hang back and relax while you and Geto went to obtain the finishing touches for the cake. 

For the past two minutes Choso has stood in place where you left him, eyeing the cake so innocently sitting atop the cleared off desk. He didn’t know it would be red velvet. Gojo had a sweet tooth and would probably love it. 

Surely this is too much for just an acquaintance. The recipe is a lot more difficult than the stuff you’ve made before, Choso saw there were more steps and more factors that could go wrong and ruin the cake’s moist and spongy texture. Skeptically, Choso narrows his eyes at the round, two tiered dessert. Most of the girls in your shared class offered to bake, but you were the one with the most experience and Gojo had eagerly picked you for the task. You must have felt obligated to make the cake perfect.

Choso’s frown deepens; he is your boyfriend. You promised you would make a cake like this just for him. A gesture like this could easily be taken the wrong way too and you’re so sweet and self effacing, he’s sure the idea of Gojo choosing you to personally make his cake didn’t mean anything at all.

It should be for him.

“What…what happened?”

The smile fell from your lips mere seconds after returning from the school store; Geto, insisting on carrying the purchases, had just been relaying a funny anecdote of one of his and Gojo’s misadventures as the two of you walked back into the now empty classroom. On the ground, right next to the base of the professor's sturdy wooden desk is nothing short of a mess. 

“My cake,” your hands come up to cover your gaping mouth. “What happened?!”

Geto approaches the desk with a confused frown; the cake and the plate it had been placed on are both on the floor. It seemed to have fallen top first, the icing and frosting smeared over the tiles and the plate broken into pieces around it. 

“It fell.” Geto states simply, although not without some incredulity. “Was it close to the edge?”

“No, I, well,” you struggle to recall exactly where you had placed the cake before you left the room. “I didn’t think I put it that close to the edge.”

“There’s frosting streaks on the side too’ it must have just toppled over.” Geto points out with a keen eye, kneeling a bit, bags still in hand. “It might have just been a bit uneven, a little heavier to one side?” he stands to his full height and smiles at you sympathetically. “These things happen, just a little bad luck. I’m sorry, it was a beautiful cake.”

“But everyone’s going to be here soon,” you fret as you search through your bag. “Geto, I’m going to go buy another cake, there’s a store nearby, I’m sure they’ll have something. Oh and I’ll find a custodian, oh no, I’m so sorry, I can’t believe this is happening-”

“Let me go.” Geto places a hand over your tensed shoulder. “It makes more sense, I know what kind of cake Satoru prefers the most. There’s plenty of time and a few others promised to bring drinks and snacks.”

“But I said I’d bring the cake. At least let me give you the money for it?” you hold up a few bills with a pleading stare. “I feel horrible, I should have been more careful where I put it.”

“Don’t beat yourself up; you are the one who did the work to make it.” Geto chuckles but accepts the money if only to make you feel a bit more at ease. “Maybe it’s better this way: with how good that cake looked, I’d wager you might have ended up with that glutton badgering you for more sweets.”

You return his smile as well as you can. “Thank you. I’m just being silly.”

“You’re fine.” Geto says firmly, but not unkindly. “You call a janitor, don’t try to clean up this alone; we wouldn’t want you to get a cut from trying to pick up pieces of that plate. I’ll be back before you know it; Satoru would sulk all afternoon if I don’t get him something anyway.”

“You’re a good friend.” you smile at Geto gratefully. “Thank you, I’ll call someone right away.”

You do just that shortly after Geto takes his leave; most of the custodians have already left for the day, except for one woman. She promises to be there as soon as she’s done with a request from one of the professors in the neighboring building; she sounds pleasant enough, but you feel pangs of guilt as you hang up and take a seat closest to the teacher’s desk. 

“Bunny? Are you okay?”

“Choso, you’re back!” you look up and wave at him, trying to sound cheerful; he glances at the ruined cake and back to your pained smile. “Ah, were you looking for me? I guess we just missed each other, the basement elevator was out of order, so we took the stairs. What a mess, huh? Geto thinks one side was a little heavier and it made the cake just flop right over the edge. Some bad luck, right? He left to get a cake and the custodian will be here soon, so make sure not to step on the plate bits.”

“Hey, slow down. I’m not worried about that.” Choso’s brow furrows as he studies your shaky smile. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. No big deal, accident…accidents happen.”

You bite your bottom lip harshly as your eyes begin to sting; before you know it, tears are slowly slipping down your cheeks. You quickly avert your eyes, too embarrassed to see the pitying look cross Choso’s face.

“Oh Choso, I feel so stupid. I can’t believe I put the cake that close to the edge! Ugh, I should have paid more attention, I told everyone I would make this amazing cake and I messed it all up and now Geto has to go all the way to the stupid store to get another one because I wasn’t careful!”

“Did he get mad at you?” Choso asked sharply. “Did he blame you?”

“No, no, Geto didn’t do anything.”  you bow your head and wipe at your wet cheeks. “He was really nice about it, so was the janitor on the phone about the mess, but I still feel bad. Gojo was just telling me he was really looking forward to the cake too. I’m sure he’ll be disappointed to get a store bought cake and I promised I’d take care of this for the party. Sorry, I know I’m being a crybaby, I should just suck it up, I’m the one who ruined things, I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself.”

“No, you didn’t. It’s not your fault.”

You raise your head and Choso is standing in front of the table between him and you; his hands are gripping tightly around the strap of his duffel bag. You wipe the last of your tears and look at him, your chest swelling at how upset he is on your account.

“You’re so sweet. Just having you to vent to makes me feel better already; I’m really just being dramatic, I’ve been stressed out and-”

“It’s not your fault.” Choso cuts you off quietly; he still isn’t looking at you. “It’s mine.”

“What? Baby, no, I didn’t expect you to watch the cake; it’s on me for not making sure it wasn’t so close to the edge, you didn’t do anything.”

“I pushed it.”

Choso’s knuckles are white: he’s strangling the strap of his bag between quivering hands. Finally, he looks into your bewildered eyes

“Choso, is this some kind of joke?” 

“I didn’t want him to have it and, and I thought he might get ideas since you worked so hard to bake it. He flirts with all the girls and you did say you were going to make it for me first.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” you shake your head and all but leap up from your chair. “You? How could you? And you were going to let me think it was my fault?!”

“No! It was supposed to look like an accident, I didn’t think you’d be so upset,”

“So it was okay for me to be ‘kind of’ upset? Choso, how could you?” you ask him again, voice raising, almost echoing in the empty room. “It’s just a cake!”

“Yeah, it’s just a stupid cake, that’s why I didn’t think you’d get this upset!”

Choso’s mouth clamps shut as your anger gives way to a look of utter hurt. 

“Wow.”

“I shouldn’t have said that-”

“Thanks a lot, Choso. Yeah, that really makes it better. Was that your plan? Swoop in and play the comforting boyfriend while I feel like a big idiot? Or maybe you just don’t consider my hobbies anything special; anyone can make a cake, right?” Fresh tears well up in your eyes as you tug your bag over your shoulder. “Nice to know what you really think.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Choso says reproachfully. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded, you’re putting words in my mouth!”

“You know what?” you shake your head and unzip the front section of your bag; clumsily you yank out a sealed box and slam it down on the table. Choso recognizes it as one of the little boxes you use to pack individual desserts. “Here, your stupid cake. Surprise.”

The lid of the container is now sticking to the top of the cake but Choso can still make out the messy letters of his name and the heart shaped sprinkles scattered all over the surface. His eyebrows raise as he sees the small, squashed up cake is in the shape of a heart. You glare down at it before turning on your heel without so much as a backward glance.

“Bunny?” Choso snaps out of his trance and begins to follow you. “Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“I can explain, just calm down and let me-”

“Leave. Me. Alone!” you stop abruptly in the doorway and give him a nasty look, but you’re barely able to hold yourself back as Choso fixes you with a heartbroken stare. “Don’t you dare tell me to calm down when you’re the one who threw a fucking tantrum. Enjoy the ‘stupid cake’, jerk!”

You slam the door in his face and rush down the hall to the nearest entrance, not particularly caring about where you’re going, just as long as you can get as much distance between you and Choso as possible. When you finally get home, you text Geto an apology for taking off and a nondescript explanation for your absence before turning your phone off. You’re exhausted and skip dinner to just curl up in your bed, burrowing in a blanket as if you could shut out the world. Choso’s t-shirt, the same one you’ve been sleeping in nearly every night, is balled up and thrown somewhere across the room; eventually you fall asleep, eyes rubbed raw and nose stuffed as you drift off, hoping maybe this was all just a bad dream.

When morning arrives and you manage to force yourself into a sitting position, it takes you a minute or two to realize the gentle knocking isn’t a leftover remnant from your deep slumber, but a very real sound coming from your front door. You wrap yourself in a robe and slip on a pair of house slippers, equally confused and irritated as to who could be knocking on your door when the sun is barely over the horizon. Just as the knocking stops, you peek through the peephole; there’s no one there. You rub your eyes and unlock your door with a sigh, expecting a leaflet from some early bird salesman or religious group to be stuck in the hinges. Instead you nearly trip over a huddled up mass taking refuge on your doorstep when you didn’t immediately open your door.

“Choso?! Oh my god, you scared me!” you’re still breathing a bit heavily, heart racing thinking a stranger had collapsed on your porch. “What are you doing here?”

“I,” Choso scrambles to his feet; you finally notice in his hands are two cups of coffee, one of which is your usual order, but the largest size. He holds it out to you. “Good morning. You weren’t answering your phone.”

“I turned it off.”

After a beat, you take the cup on autopilot, more preoccupied with the man standing at the threshold of your home. The circles under Choso’s eyes are darker than ever, in addition to how red and irritated they are around the edges, his hair is oily and limp. On closer inspection, you see he’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday; now they’re more wrinkled and the slight odor coming off them tells you he hasn’t showered yet. 

“Can I come in?” Choso asks, his voice weak and barely louder than a whisper. “I have to talk to you.”

“Fine.” you frown but move aside and open the door wider. “Here, come with me, I left my phone in my room.”

Choso does as he’s told, but trails after you at a slight distance, at least in comparison to how closely he usually stays to you. He’s shivering; it’s the middle of winter and he isn’t wearing even a jacket. How long had he been knocking on your door? How long had he planned to wait there outside? You banish the thought and busy yourself disconnecting your phone from its charger on your bedside table. Choso stands awkwardly in the middle of your room; he hasn’t taken so much as a sip of his coffee or taken his eyes off you, at least as far as you can see. 

“Did I wake you up?” he asks worriedly. “I’m sorry. I was going to wait but I thought you might have gone somewhere and you weren’t answering your phone, so…” he goes silent seeing his shirt in a crumpled heap in the corner of your room. “I just wanted to talk to you as soon as possible.”

You barely heard him, jaw dropping at your phone’s screen as it fully turns on to show you 32 missed calls, 15 unheard voicemails, 18 unopened texts, and 5 emails, all from Choso over the course of the night. You tap your thumb on the latest voicemail.

“Bunny? Bunny, can’t you just talk to me?” A shaky, nearly unrecognizable croaking comes from the speaker: Choso’s strong voice sounds strained, almost inaudible at certain points, as though he had been screaming until his throat was raw. “I know you’re probably sleeping…or maybe you don’t want to talk to me ever again-” A sharp, wrecked sob crackles over the speaker but Choso manages to steady himself again. “But I need to…I need to hear your voice. I’m so sorry, I’m so, so fucking sorry, I’m sorry, please don’t hate me. I love you so much it hurts. I’m going to stop by tomorrow, I need to see you. I know I messed up, I need help. My bunny? I can’t…oh god, I can’t do this. I-I feel like I’m dying, I’m…I love you. I love you, I love you, just please-”

Your heart drops to your churning stomach as Choso’s words morph into broken, unintelligible sobs. Finally after a few seconds, the other end goes quiet and the voicemail ends. A recorded voice tells you there’s still 14 more previously skipped voicemails; Choso has remained standing, stiff as a board and looking miserably at you. You take a seat on the side of your bed, staring bewildered at your phone; you decide to not listen to the other voicemails.

“I’m sorry.” Choso says in an absurdly small voice. “Can we talk?”

You’re holding the coffee in your hands on your lap and taking a deep breath before raising your face. “Choso, why did you do it?”

“I didn’t do it to hurt you. I don’t think your baking is stupid. I was being stupid.” Choso’s cheeks burn in shame. “I was jealous Gojo was getting the cake first, or I thought he was, and I just…I didn’t want him to have it. It’s always like this.”

“What do you mean?” you ask him slowly, tempering your own indignation. “Do you think he would flirt with me? Or that I would cheat on you?”

“No. I just get so...everyone likes you. So, what if someone better comes along? What if you stop paying attention to me?” Choso shakes his head quickly, gripping his hair like he wants to yank it out. “I have thoughts like that all the time. It's awful. I knew you would be sad, but I really thought it would only be a little and then I could make it better and you would…rely on me more. I don’t want you to get close to anyone else.” he lowers his arm to his side limply. “I know it’s wrong. Are you gonna bre-break up with me?”

You don’t speak just yet; your eyes study his drawn, exhausted face. Choso isn’t trying to make you feel bad for him, you know that much. The truth doesn’t make you feel much better though. 

“I was really mad at you yesterday. I needed space.”

“I know, but-”

“Listen,” you say firmly. “Whatever the reason, that was a really rotten thing you did. It was just plain mean and selfish. Sure, you didn’t really mean to hurt me, but you did. You purposely messed up something I put a lot of work into.”

“I know.” Choso’s expression is desolate. “I like that about you. I love that you do nice things for people even if you don’t have to. Y-you’re so careful and considerate of other people. I was being selfish and it was so, so fucking stupid. You would never do something like that to me…you’re so good to me.”

“Choso, this isn’t just about yesterday.” you soften your tone, mindful of your volume. Choso looks as if one cold word from you could shatter him into a million pieces. “If you were willing to trash something I put a lot of work into for such a petty reason, it’s making me second guess things and now I’m wondering if maybe you’re not the person I thought you were. Is it more important to keep me dependent on you than for me to be happy?” You set your cup down on the nightstand, trying to keep your voice from cracking. “Maybe this isn’t going to work out.”

“Don’t say that.” 

Choso all but drops his coffee onto your dresser, barely glancing at it as he rushes to you; he lowers himself down on his knees, eyes glistening with both unshed tears and sheer adoration as he looks up at your pained face. You let him hold your hands, still folded in your lap, as Choso rests his forehead on your lap. They’re ice cold; how long had he been waiting outside?

“It’ll never happen again. It shouldn’t have happened at all. I know I could have just talked to you, I know you would have listened, but I didn’t even give you a chance, I just did what I wanted. I’m not nearly as kind as you.” Choso admits, words muffled as he buries his face into your thighs. “I don’t deserve you, but I need you. I’ll do whatever you say until you trust me again. Do you hate me?”

“Choso, I never hated you, I was just hurt.” you squeeze his hands gently. “The only reason I got so upset in the first place is because I love you so much. Hell, the cake for the party was more practice than anything so I could make you an even better cake. If you were worried, you should have just told me. You’re not some evil person from feeling jealous, but what you did was wrong. I really need to know that you understand where I’m coming from, I don’t want us to break up or anything. Did you really think I was trying to end things yesterday?”

Choso nods, head still resting on your thighs. “I thought you blocked me on everything. I thou-thought you didn’t ever want to see me again. I should have waited, Eso even said you probably just needed some space, but…I’m so used to being with you, texting you. I was going crazy.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to ghost you. And I’m sorry for calling you a jerk.”

“I am a jerk.”

“No, you acted like a jerk,” you nudge Choso’s shoulder to get him to look up; he does, taking in your face with those pleading puppy dog eyes you can never resist. “I forgive you. I love you baby, so, so much.”

“Bunny,” Choso’s lip wobbles and fat tears roll down his cheeks and chin, dripping onto your hands. “Thank you. I’m sorry I made you cry, just thinking about it makes me want to-to-” he sniffs and clenches his teeth against a whine. “I’m just sorry. I love you. I missed you so much. I couldn’t sleep knowing you were hurting because of me and I wanted to come here right away, but I thought if I did you’d really be fed up and-”

“You didn’t sleep?!” you slowly sit and move so you’re seated further up the bed; Choso follows suit, basically crawling over your pillows and covers to be next to you, tears still streaming down either side of his face. “Choso, lay down baby, you should take a nap. You’ll feel better, believe me. We can talk more later and get something to eat.”

“‘So good to me.” Choso tugs on your arm. “I want to cuddle.” He immediately moves over so you can hold him, laying on your sides as Choso stares balefully up at you through blurry eyes. “Can I have a kiss?”

“Choso, you need sleep.”

“Please?” he mutters, eyes lingering on your pouty mouth. “Need a kiss.”

“Okay, just a little one.”

“Thank you. You’re always so good to me…”

You knew those basset hound eyes would be the death of you: what started out as a tender, chaste kiss swiftly evolved into big hands massaging your breasts, then fingers tugging at the sash of your robe, and finally you being pushed onto your back as Choso holds you down in a mating press. 

“So good!” Choso can’t stop letting out choked moans, so loud, they almost drown out your cries, pushing your thighs closer to your chest, somehow, some way forcing his cock impossibly deep. There’s hints of pain but the pleasure you get from his cock head rubbing against that little spot just behind your clit was overriding all of it. 

“Baby, gotta slow down, you’ll break me at this rate.” you moan, helpless as Choso ducks his head down to lick and suck on your almost painfully sensitive nipples. He had been playing with them obsessively, pinching, rolling, sucking, even leaving dark love bites all over your breast.

“Love you, missed your pussy so much, thought I was gonna, gonna die!”

“Oh god, Choso, please, please baby, it’s too much!” your head lolls side to side; he’s made you cum three times already. Your pussy is a sopping wet mess and it’s all you can do to not pass out as Choso’s thick cock stretches you open over and over again, surely bruising your cervix. “You’re so-ah!” you let out a piercing shriek that only seems to spur him on to go harder. “So deep in my pussy baby, I can’t-”

“Just a little more, I’m so close,” Choso huffs, looking down at you with heavy lidded eyes, cheeks burning and hair sticking to his forehead; he’s a mess from his own sweat and your slick covering his pelvis where he just won’t stop pounding into you. “You look so good like this, I could fuck you forever…gonna cum so hard, give it all to you,”

“Cum in me,” you sweep his damp hair off his forehead with a faint, fucked out smile. “I want to feel it dripping out of me…can you be a good boy and cum in my pussy?”

“Yes, yes! Oh fuck, yes!”

Choso kisses you roughly, hips rolling into yours, barely pulling his cock out at all, as though he wanted his cum to go as deep inside you as it could go. It’s hot and spurting into your battered insides; thankfully Choso has enough strength left to hold you up as he humps your plush, limp body like a dog in heat. 

“Mine,” he groans, thrusting once more with a violent shudder. “Only mine.”

You suppose it’s not the best idea to encourage him, but you nod anyway, shaky hand in his hair to pet the tangled strands, chest heaving and light headed as Choso pulls his softening cock out slowly so as not to hurt you. He pants against your neck, curled into your side and using his wide palm to rub gentle circles over your hips and thighs.

“My poor bunny.” Choso mutters fondly as his fingers trail over your twitching thighs. “I’ll do better. You won’t regret this. I’m gonna get a bath ready for you, okay?”

“Th-thank you.”

“Sh, just relax, don’t get up.” Choso moves sluggishly to take the box of tissues from your nightstand; the coffee he brought you has somehow not been knocked off in the frenzy. “You’re so cute like this. I’ll wipe you off a bit first, nice and easy. Does it hurt down there?”

“Not really; feels more numb actually.” you roll your head to stare at him directly, meaning to look at least a little serious but you come off more like a grumpy kitten. “Don’t think just because you made me almost pass out that I forgot everything from the past 24 hours mister. I’m holding you to your word.”

“Yes ma’am.” Choso agrees with a hum as he wipes at the mess between your legs. “Thank you again…I still ate the cake you made for me. It was really good.”

“Oh right.”

“Yuji said you should have thrown it in my face.” Choso adds, a bit sheepish at the memory. “I almost didn’t eat it: I thought it would be the last thing you ever gave me…”

“Choso,” you smile at him sadly. “I love you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you?”

“Uh huh.” Choso brings you into his arms, careful not to jostle you too suddenly. “Just scared. I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Never?”

“No.”

“Why are you scared? Do you still think I want to break up?”

Choso shrugs. “What if the more you get to know me, the more you see bad things?”

“What kind of bad things?”

“If…if I could, I’d keep you with me. Sometimes when we’re alone, I don’t want to let you go. Then I start wondering if trying to keep you safe will just make you unhappy with me or that I’ll scare you off and then…” A single tear escapes Choso’s eye and he draws you in closer to his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do. Compared to you, I’m really selfish and short sighted.”

“No one’s perfect. I’m not.”

“You're just saying that to make me feel better.”

“I overthink things and get worked up over upsetting people. I hold myself to unattainable standards.” you list off tiredly. “And I keep doing this thing where I shy away from letting people really…know me. Like if they do, I’ll just let them down. I feel like an imposter half the time when you say all these nice things about me. You’re the first person I’ve actually wanted to know me, warts and all. It’s worth getting to be with someone like you, Choso. That’s just how relationships work; you’re always risking getting hurt or disappointed when you let people love you…when you love someone. And I love you.”

“Um…is it bad that I feel happy I’m the only person you talk to like this?” Choso sniffles. “Sorry. I’m being selfish again.”

“Maybe a little, but for the right reasons.” you grin and wipe a thumb under his eye. “For the record, it makes me happy you think of me so highly. You make me feel special.”

“You are special and anyone who thinks otherwise is stupid.”

“Does that include me then?”

Choso looks visibly panicked. “Wa-wait, that’s not what I meant!”

“I know, I know, sorry baby.” you kiss him before he starts into another round of apologies. “That was just a little payback. Ah, Choso!”

“Not funny.” Choso grumbles, bundling you into the blankets as you giggle and let out a faux fearful squeal; the sly quirk of his lips betrays his actual intentions. “After your bath, I’m gonna give you a real reason to scream.”

[caelesjjk]

𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕕 - 𝕛𝕛𝕜&𝕜𝕥𝕙

⟶ title: entangled ⟶pairing: spidey!jungkook x fem reader, venom!taehyung x fem reader ⟶au: marvel au ⟶ rating: 18+ ⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle ⟶ wc: 7.6k ⟶ warnings: Mnetions of blood and a wound, drinking, Jungkook calls you Data and Taehyung calls you Pigeon, infidelity-ish?? (you'll see), two smut scenes: oral (female and male receiving) mutiple orgasms, overstim, unprotected sex (thats a no, wrap it up) few different positions, making out, sweet kisses, nipple stuff ⟶ summary: Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man.

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend.

You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well?

Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world.

What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

⟶ authors note: hello darklings, its been such a long time. I apologize this took so long but it's finally here! I can't wait to see what everyone thinks of spidey!kook and venom!tae, they're truly my babies and I have loved writing them. This is only part one, I make no guarantees how quickly part two comes out, but I'll do my best I promise. I'm thinking probably four parts for this. enjoy! tell me all ur thots! Shoutout to M (@here2bbtstrash), Sav (@jeonjcngkook) and Kay (@tea4sykes) for looking this over and correcting my insanity and also assuring me that it's not terrible lol. Thank you all so much for your patience and help.

“So where is he?” your friend Penny says from across the table.

“He said he was coming.” You sigh, stirring your drink with the straw.

“He said that the last two times we were all supposed to study together.” Hoseok gives you a look that’s part sympathy and part annoyance.

“He’s working three part-time jobs. Not all of us have our parents paying for our apartments, Hobi.” You give him a playful glare and he returns it, followed by a poke of his tongue from between his lips.

Part of you wished you didn’t know Jungkook’s secret. That you could go back to the days where you were blissfully unaware of who he was. But back then, being stood up hurt even more because you didn’t know why.

Now you know. You know that Jungkook is Spider-Man. The infamous superhero  with powers he acquired from being bitten by a lab altered arachnid a few years ago.

He saved your life. Twice in fact. Both times it was because you were curious, too curious for your own good, and you had been suspecting something was going on with Jungkook. 

You followed him one night and watched in awe as he changed into his Spider-Man suit in an alleyway. And not just because he was Spider-Man, but because he was insanely gorgeous. You were hypnotized by the man who had been sitting next to you as your lab partner for most of the year. Who constantly hid his body beneath baggy clothes and bucket hats. 

You had always liked him a little more than you cared to admit. And after you found out the truth about him, your friendship grew into something more.

There weren’t any labels; you didn’t call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, much to your dismay. But Jungkook always told you that if the wrong person found out about the two of you, they could use you to get to him. And he needed to be able to focus on his whole saving the world gig, and not constantly worry about your safety. 

You understood. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting a little.

You manage to study a bit longer with your friends before deciding you were far too distracted. You call Jungkook on your walk back to your apartment, but of course he doesn't  answer. 

So now you wait. And you worry.

No matter how hot the shower water is as it hits your back, it doesn’t stop the worry. You just want him to be safe, even if he pissed you off by not showing up again. 

You wrap yourself in your favorite silky robe and get comfortable on your bed with some of your homework you didn’t finish with your friends, slowly getting immersed in all of the calculations and formulas that you love so much. They were a great distraction.

Not sure how long you’ve been studying, you get up to stretch and make your way to your apartment balcony, opening the doors and stepping outside for a breath of fresh air. 

The city is always loud, but up here it isn’t so bad. The traffic sounds far away and the lights are just flickers across the skyline. You might even think it was beautiful if it wasn’t for the constant bad lurking around every corner. Or maybe you had just heard too many scary things from Jungkook.

Sighing when he pops into your head again, you turn around to head back inside only to come face to face with the superhero in question. Seeing him hanging there upside down from your doorway startles you just enough to send you stumbling backwards towards your balcony.

Before you can get too far, or even fully scream, Jungkook is shooting a web at your torso, pulling you back and into his arms as he flips down onto his feet. Your head swims from how quickly it happens.

“Data, look at me.” Jungkook’s voice is slightly muffled through his mask. “It’s just me.”

“You scared me.” You look up at him as he removes his mask and shakes out his hair, eyes finally meeting yours. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been…noisier.” Jungkook smiles and you almost forget that you’re angry with him. Almost.

“What are you doing here anyways?” You shove against his broad chest and feel his arm release your waist. He sighs, following you inside your apartment.

“I know you’re upset I missed the study session…” Jungkook starts to explain, but you twist back around to face him.

“If my friends hadn’t seen you around campus now and then, they would think I made you up, Jungkook. You never show. It makes me look pathetic.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for the next excuse.

“You aren’t pathetic, Data. I’m just…” Jungkook winces when he reaches for you, a hand moving down to his ribs in pain. “Sorry, it’s healing, it's  just slow.”

“What’s healing? What happened to you?” You let the fight go for a moment, closing the space between the two of you and moving his hand out of the way.

Beneath his fingers is a large cut, bloody but half-hidden by his suit. It looks angry and inflamed. What could’ve made a cut like this?

“It’s nothing. I’ll heal up in a couple hours.” He pulls your hand away, blood stained on the tips of your fingers. 

“It won’t matter how quick you heal if it gets infected. Come in here.” Your hand wraps around his and you pull him into your small bathroom. You steady him against your vanity and move to grab your first aid kit from the cabinet above your toilet. “Take that off.” You gesture to his Spider-Man suit.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jungkook teases, gingerly working his top half out of the suit. He hisses through his teeth as he peels the suit away from his ribs and lets it hang at his hips.

You are not the universe's strongest soldier.

Your eyes drift over all the dips and curves of muscle. A perfectly sculpted chest and abs you could literally eat off of are right in front of you, scrambling every sense you have in your head. You need to focus. Stay focused on the task at hand and not his ridiculously toned body.

“You okay, Data?” he asks, humor in his voice. That horrid nickname he had given you in your first year as lab partners is feeling more endearing these days. You clear your throat.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Just tending to Spider-Man’s wounds in my extremely tiny bathroom.” You try to laugh but it doesn’t sound genuine.

You take out some bandages and gauze and get to work cleaning him up. But even as you tape down the gauze, you can visibly see the wound getting smaller. Super powers really are something else.

“Data.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality. 

“What?” You sigh.

“Please come here.” His hands reach for your hips and you give in, letting him pull you until you’re flush against him, suddenly nose to nose. “That’s better.”

“I’m angry with you,” you whisper, heart pumping a bit faster in the close proximity.

“I know that you are. I’m really sorry…I swear I wanted to be there.” You look down to see him slip his gloves off and sit them on the countertop before his hands come up to cup your face.

“Then what happened? You need to tell me.” Your hands wrap around his wrists.

“There’s something out there, Data. A…monster that we can’t figure out. It’s strong…and fast. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.” His thumbs brush the corners of your mouth. 

“What does it want?” 

“It keeps breaking into the Lab across the River. It’s looking for something. No one at the lab is being very forthcoming with information.” His forehead presses to yours. “But Mr. Kim is working on that part.”

Kim Seokjin, more famously known as Ironman. He was a mentor and a good friend to Jungkook. He was helping Jungkook navigate the new world of being a superhero and also gave him a job to help him pay for school. 

“Hasn’t Mr. Kim told you to call him Jin over and over?” you tease, hands coming up to rest against his chest. Jungkook laughs quietly, pulling you closer.

“He has. Guess it just slipped out.” His hands move down to palm your ass.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” You raise an eyebrow in question of his actions.

“Just feels like I haven’t touched you in so long.” His warm mouth finds your throat and he presses kisses to the skin.

“Two days is a long time?” 

“It is when it comes to you. Thinking about how much I want you gets so distracting.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, making you giggle.

“So what I did for you two days ago wasn’t enough?” You let your hands slither down from his chest and over the planes of his stomach.

“Never enough.” His nose skims over your jaw until you’re back face to face and his lips are devouring yours. “I’d like to pay you back.” 

“How?” You moan when you’re cut off by his tongue sliding into your mouth.

“Let me show you?” Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom.

Thinking he means to lead you to your bed, you start to pull him towards it, but he seems to have other ideas, walking you back out onto the balcony. He releases your hand momentarily to slide his suit back up over his shoulders.

“What are you going to show me out here, Jungkook?” You start to feel suspicious.

“Do you trust me?” He jumps up onto your railing with ease, still holding your hand in his.

“Not if it involves you swinging me around off the side of buildings.” You start to pull back, but his other wrist shoots a web at your torso; using his inhuman strength, he pulls you up onto the railing into his arms.

“I would never let you fall. Never. Just close your eyes for a few minutes. I promise it’ll be worth it, Data.” He touches your cheek gently, and even though you want to throw up every time he does this, you close your eyes and wrap your arms as tightly as possible around his neck and your legs around his waist. “Ready?” He whispers in your ear, one strong arm wrapping around your back.

You don’t verbally answer, just nod once before burying your face into his neck.

And then the solid feeling of being on the ground disappears and the sickening feeling of free falling is very apparent. You try to breathe, squeezing yourself around Jungkook as you listen to the whooshing sound of his web shooters discharge as he swings you between the tallest buildings in the city.

“You’re doing amazing.” Jungkook kisses your cheek. “Just another minute.”

You keep your eyes clamped shut until the curiosity becomes too overwhelming, making you dare to peek just the slightest bit. You see the sun setting on the horizon, orange and purple hues slowly disappearing beneath the river. As long as you don’t think about how high up you are, it really is beautiful up here.

You soak in the feeling of Jungkook holding you so tightly because you never know when the next time may be. You hate to sound so dramatic in thinking that way, but it really is a guessing game sometimes . Your hands loosen and slide up into his hair, making him look down into your eyes and smile when he sees how fondly you’re looking back at him.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, even though there isn’t a single soul that could hear you up here.

Jungkook kisses the corner of your mouth and then the other before the softness of his lips has your eyes fluttering closed. This kiss is only gentle brushes of lips, noses grazing in the sweetest way you can imagine, all the while Jungkook is still effortlessly swinging you between buildings.

He shoots a web straight up into the air, letting it connect to the side of one of the tallest buildings, slowly pulling the two of you up until he’s reached the highest ledge, tapping your thighs so you know it’s safe to put your feet down. You kiss him once more before you open your eyes and look out at the nearly complete sunset…a thousand feet in the air.

“Why are we up here, Jungkook? You know the heights..” He kisses you again before you can finish the sentence.

“Can we try something?” He smiles, and it’s infuriating. You’re too weak for this spidey boy. You sigh with exasperation.

“I’m already very wary of saying yes.” You look away from the ledge towards the top of the building, taking note of all the intricate filigree and gargoyle statues.

“Let me make you feel good…up here.��� His cheeks heat a little when he asks.

“Is this some kind of weird adrenaline thing? Why would you want that?” Your voice cracks and you sputter, disbelief heavy in your tone.

“I think it’ll be intense…feel so good.” His lips move down and his teeth nip at your jaw.

“It’s insane…” You melt into his touch and the way his mouth sucks at your neck.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll take you home. And I’ll get you naked in your bed instead.” He pulls your shirt over your head, fully knowing you’re about to give in.

“Bed sounds so good right now…”

“Please, Data…just try it.” He tosses your shirt to the side, cupping your breasts and kissing the tops of them.

“What do I have to do?” You feel too good to let the fear ruin the way he’s making you feel.

“Lie back on the ledge, with your arms above your head and your wrists crossed.” 

You let him lead you down onto the ledge, every nerve in your body hot and on edge. Jungkook makes sure that you’re settled before he stands back up straight, looking down at you while you slowly move your arms above your head the way he asked.

“You’re perfect, Data.” Jungkook stares at you a moment longer before he aims his web shooter and traps your wrists together against the concrete ledge beneath you.

Your chest heaves at the idea of being completely helpless. He’s taken away your control and your ability to touch him as you please. 

He makes quick work of the sleep pants you had been wearing, tossing them away to join the gargoyles on the rooftop. 

“Jungkook…” you whimper when he lowers himself between your legs and lies down on his stomach so he can be face to face with your heat.

“Relax, okay? I’m gonna make it up to you.” He kisses a path down your thigh, sucking gently and caressing with his tongue.

You arch your back from the ledge when he pushes your panties to the side and his mouth finally makes contact with your pussy. Just a sweet kiss at first, then a deep, swirling lick to your clit. You pull against the webbing trapping you in place, fingers begging to be in his hair.

If only the citizens of his precious city could see him right now. Face buried and tongue lapping just for you. All of it for you and not for them.

You can feel tears start to form in your eyes from the way your orgasm is already so close to crashing over you. Jungkook has spent quite a bit of time getting to know your body and memorizing the things he knows that you like.

“Come on my tongue, baby. I’ve got you.” Jungkook soothes before his mouth is back to devouring you.

One particularly harsh suck to your clit while his fingers finally join in on the fun is what sends you over the edge, clenching around his digits in spasms.

You’re lucky that no one could possibly hear you all the way up here. The moans and groans that you both make while Jungkook licks up every bit of your arousal are beyond obscene.

“Please get this web off of me,” you huff between breaths. Jungkook slowly raises his head and with a smile on his shiny face, reaches up and effortlessly rips the webbing from your wrists. 

You jolt upwards, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your hands into his soft hair. Your mouths mold together automatically, your tongue tasting yourself from his lips.

“Did you like it?” Jungkook finally asks, pulling you into his lap.

“As long as I continue to pretend we aren’t thousands of feet in the air, I enjoyed it very much.” You both smile and you lean in to kiss the corner of his pierced lip. “You can’t always distract me with your extremely talented mouth though. I just…want you to try and be in my life.” You push some hair off of his forehead before he kisses your lips once more.

“It won’t always be this crazy, Data. I promise. I just want to make sure I help Jin as much as I can with this monster.” 

“I know.” You want to tell him that you wish you came first. That there’s always going to be another monster keeping you apart. But that’s the price you pay for loving a superhero. 

“Let me take you home?” He stands up, still holding you in his arms.

“Maybe let me put my pants back on first?” You laugh as he sets you down to retrieve your pants from a gargoyle statue. 

And then you’re back in his arms and swinging back to reality.

The sun is still warm even though fall is almost in full swing. Leaves are starting to change colors and slowly drop off the trees. You love the smell of them as they dance by you on the breeze.

Something you don’t love is the damn pigeons that have made their home in the nooks and crannies of all the old buildings on campus. They fly down from their nests and make nuisances of themselves with the students, trying to get pieces of food.

You’ve been continuously shooing them away as you attempt to do your homework. 

Sitting in the courtyard on top of a patchwork blanket, you’re lost in the numbers and formulas that keep you best distracted these days. So much so that you almost don’t see Jungkook before his head is in your lap and his smiling face is looking up at you, pigeons scattering about from his sudden movements.

“Good afternoon, Data,” he says cutely. You set down your notebook and pen, leaning down to kiss him.

“How nice to see you at school for once,” you tease, pulling his bottom lip gently between your teeth.

“Mm, things have been quiet for a couple of days. I got some sleep…and I missed you.” Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to lay down with him across the blanket.

“What are you doing?” You laugh and push against his chest.

“Making sure everyone sees me kissing you.” 

“Isn’t that dangerous?” You comb your nails through the hair at the nape of his neck. “If the wrong person sees?” 

Jungkook freezes for a moment, his eyes not meeting yours as his face scrunches in concentration. He abruptly sits up on his knees and you follow, looking around the courtyard.

“Something isn’t right.” Jungkook’s voice is low and quiet.

“What is it?” You continue to look around, seeing students walking to class or enjoying the sun in the courtyard like the two of you were.

Your eyes stop when you notice someone by the fountain taking photos with a professional type camera. His head of black messy hair is covered by a backwards black baseball hat. Long legs covered by snugly fit black jeans and his top half in a white button up, sleeves rolled halfway up in the most maddening way.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he’s suddenly looking right at you and you’re able to recognize who it is you’ve been drooling over. You feel embarrassment flood your face and body as you quickly look away, your heart racing in your chest.

Kim Taehyung. A photography student at your university. The best photography student if you remember correctly. You remember having a basic class with him your first year and he had seemed very nice. His smile was sweet, but the two of you didn’t talk to each other much at all. 

You did think he was absolutely stunning though, sometimes wishing you weren’t too shy to have spoken to him back then.

Your classes must have all been different after that, but you still see him around campus from time to time. Always taking pictures, but always alone. And last year he seemed to disappear altogether before reappearing when the new semester started.

When you get brave enough to look back up at him, you see he has his camera pointed at you, snapping pictures. You look away again so as not to alert Jungkook of what’s going on. Taehyung smiles when you look up out of the corner of your eye, before moving on to take pictures of something else. Why is your heart beating so fast?

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks, making you jump.

“I should be asking you that,” you manage to croak out.

“That weird sense of something being off is happening… I should go.” He starts to stand up and you grab his hand.

“What about this weekend? You’re still coming out with us right?”

He bends down and captures your lips in a quick but sweet kiss. “I promise I won’t miss it.” He gently nudges your forehead with his, making you roll your eyes with a smile as you watch him jog across the courtyard.

“Was that Jungkook?” Hoseok asks, sitting down across from you on the blanket.

“Um…yeah. He had to get to class,” you lie. Again. “Hey Hobi?”

“Yeah?” He stops grabbing books from his bag and looks up at you.

“What do you know about Kim Taehyung?” You nod towards the man with the camera, still taking pictures of some angel statues on the far side of the courtyard.

“He’s supposedly the best photography major at this school. He’s also…strange.” Hobi pretends to get a chill.

“Strange? Strange how?” You’re interest even more peaked than before.

“I don’t know, ____. I just heard some shit about him talking to himself all the time, and sometimes he comes to class all beat up.” Hobi brushes it off like it’s no big deal.

You don’t pester him any further, instead watching Taehyung as he takes a seat on a bench and starts scrolling through the pictures he’s taken on his camera. 

Maybe people are making things up about him because he’s different. People don’t like different for some reason. But you…you tend to be pulled towards the different. Or it tends to find you when you least expect it.

Saturday night has come and almost gone, and you’re still waiting for Jungkook to show up at Club Onyx to meet up with you and your friends. You’ve been waiting for hours and downing drinks the longer you go unanswered.

You’ve called and texted him over and over with no answer and are finally ready to just give up. Hobi gives you that pitiful look as you slam your phone face down onto the table.

“Fuck this, I’m getting another drink.” You don’t say it to anyone in particular and you don’t wait for anyone to answer before slipping into the crowd towards the bar.

“Can I get a Long Island please?” you ask the bartender when she approaches. You slouch down onto a barstool and see a familiar face on the other side of the bar.

Taehyung. Sitting with a glass of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. The hat you usually see him wear is nowhere to be seen. Instead, his curly black hair has been somewhat styled over his forehead. He’s still wearing a white button up, but he’s left the top buttons undone this time, revealing the smooth skin of his chest.

“Here you go.” The bartender hands you your drink just in time for Taehyung to look up from his phone and see you already looking at him.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, taking your drink and making a break for the dance floor as quickly as you can. 

The song playing isn’t one that you know, but as you chug down your drink you start to care less and less about knowing the song and just let yourself go. You want to have a good time and not mope about Jungkook standing you up once again.

You let strangers grind against you as you move across the dance floor, arms raised above your head and your hips swaying to the beat of the song. You’re a little tipsy as you place your glass down on the nearest table, but not enough to not know what’s going on. 

A slower song starts to play with more of an r&b feeling. You watch as people start to pair off, the movements of their bodies making heat rush through you and settle on your cheeks and  neck. You start to turn back to find your friends when you feel an arm slide around your waist, making you jump from the suddenness of being touched.

“Easy there, Pigeon,” a voice as deep as the ocean and smoother than satin says against the shell of your ear.

You twist your neck almost too quickly, eyes landing on the face of Taehyung. Your breath nearly disappears completely seeing him this closely.

“What are you doing?” you ask, but you don’t try to move away from him. God, you should move away but you can’t.

“You need someone to dance with.” He smiles and says the words with a matter of fact tone.

“I should find my friends…” Your brain finally starts to catch up and you move from his hold.

“One dance, Pigeon. Would be a pity to waste such a good song.” 

“Why are you calling me Pigeon? I have a name.” You fold your arms over your chest.

“I know your name. But the pigeons at school seem to have really taken a liking to you, I couldn’t resist.” His boxy smile widens.

“You’re not being very convincing about this dance.” You try not to smile.

Taehyung puts his hand out asking silently one more time for you to dance with him. There’s that nagging feeling that you shouldn’t, but there’s a bigger part that says Jungkook isn’t your boyfriend, and he stood you up after he promised not to miss this night.

You take his hand.

Taehyung pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and gently pulls you towards him, spinning you around at the last second to press your back against his front. You gasp when you immediately feel him lean over you and press his face into your neck, his nose skimming your skin.

His big but delicate hands find your stomach, slithering down until they reach your hips, slightly bunching your dress in his fingers.

He gently moves his hips and grinds against your ass in the most tantalizing way, reminding you that you did in fact agree to dance. Taehyung groans quietly in your ear when the pace of your hips becomes quicker with more added pressure from your ass into his crotch.

You let yourself relax against him, head falling back against his shoulder and exposing more of your neck to him. His impatient mouth finds the juncture of your neck and shoulder and he kisses a soft line across your skin.

“Can’t believe your boyfriend would leave you all alone out here where the monsters can find you.” Taehyung's deep voice vibrates through your body and settles into your core.

“I don’t have a boyfriend…or monsters.” The words come out sounding breathless as he continues to press your body closer to his.

“We think you do.” His long tongue traces the shell of your ear. 

We? You let it go because your brain is too foggy with lust to wonder what that could even mean right now.

“I don’t,” you repeat, pushing thoughts of Jungkook away for just a night. Taehyung laughs quietly, pulling your lobe between his teeth as his hands move up your chest to cup your breasts.

You don’t even care who sees the way he’s touching you right now. You’re becoming so turned on that you know your panties have to be absolutely ruined at this point.

“Come home with me.” He spins you around to face him just as the song ends, your eyes fluttering open as he cups your face in his hands.

“That…I can’t.” Your eyes search his, hoping it will make you realize that you need to walk away. Instead, there’s something that tells you you’re safe, but that you’re also in for a world of trouble. You don’t know how you know, you just do.

“I’ll make you feel so good, Pigeon.” His mouth is almost on yours, lips just brushing as he whispers. This man is fucking undeniable.

“Okay,.” you cave. You just want to feel wanted. You want to matter more than a stranger on the street. You want Taehyung to make you forget how much it hurts when Jungkook lets you down over and over again.

“Good girl.” His warm mouth slots with yours as he kisses you feverishly. Like he’s been starving for years and your mouth is his only source of sustenance. It’s hot, fiery, and all-consuming.

Not even sure when his lips leave yours, you’re suddenly being pulled by your hand towards the club exit. Your brain clears and you look around for Hobi or any of your other friends but you don’t see them. And honestly, you hope that they don’t. You hope they didn’t see what happened on the dance floor and you hope they don’t see you leaving with someone who isn’t Jungkook. That would be far too messy to have to explain.

“Did you drive here?” You squeeze Taehyung’s hand and he pulls you closer to him.

“I did. I didn’t even finish my drink, I promise I’m safe to drive.” He eases your mind as the two of you push out of the door and turn towards the parking lot.

But your mind is only at ease for a mere minute before you realize that Taehyung is leading you towards what appears to be a very, very fast motorcycle. Everything on it is jet black and ridiculously sexy. You wish you weren’t absolutely terrified.

“I’m not getting on that.” You stop in your tracks.

“Why not?” Taehyung grabs the helmet off the back and offers it to you. “I’ll even give you the helmet.”

“I just…that looks dangerous.” 

“It is.”

“Glad you’re honest,” you half-laugh.

“The bike is dangerous, but I would never let anything happen to you, Pigeon.” Taehyung swings one of his long legs over the motorcycle, straddling it as he waits for you to make a decision.

“We hardly know each other, Taehyung.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t keep you safe on my motorcycle, or that we have to know everything about each other to feel something.” He holds the helmet out again and you feel your mouth go dry at his words.

The danger aside, there is no going back if you get on that motorcycle with him. There is no way you would have an untainted conscience ever again. Every time you were with Jungkook from this day on, you would have to think about the fact that at this moment, you also wanted Kim Taehyung to fuck you.

That should terrify you more than it does.

You grab your phone and quickly open it to see no messages or missed calls from Jungkook. Your answer gets a little clearer as you reach out and take the helmet from his hand.

“Carefully,” Taehyung says, taking one of your hands and guiding you to straddle the motorcycle behind him. You settle the helmet onto your head, and Taehyung smiles widely when he looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re ready. 

When he starts the motorcycle, the vibrations from the engine immediately flood your body. Your arms instinctively wrap around his torso as tightly as possible, and you wait once again for the world to go past you far too quickly. The same way it always does when Jungkook is swinging you between buildings.

When he pulls out of the parking lot, he doesn’t go too fast like you thought he would. He takes his time weaving between the cars and taxis, making his way through the busy streets and closer to the docks. 

You don’t entirely hate the motorcycle ride. Nor do you hate the way Taehyung laces his fingers through yours and holds them against his chest, or the way he brings your knuckles to his lips to brush a kiss against each one while he steers with the other hand. You don’t hate the way he sometimes moves that hand down to tap your thigh to let you know he’s about to make a sharp turn. You wish you hated the motorcycle ride.

Taehyung presses a button on his phone and a door on one of the warehouses starts to lift up. He pulls through it, parking the bike once inside. Your legs feel like jello when you take his hand to try and stand up, stumbling a bit in his hold.

“Okay there, Pigeon?” Taehyung grasps the sides of the helmet and helps you take it off. He sits it on the back of the bike before coming back to help you straighten out your helmet hair.

“It wasn’t terrible.” You smile and so does he, fire moving through your veins the longer your eyes stay locked with his. You quickly clear your throat. “So, you live in a warehouse?”

“I used to live in the city. It was just too…busy. I needed space.” He takes your hand and leads you towards some metal stairs. But before he does, you notice several more motorcycles parked inside the open part of the warehouse. Who is Kim Taehyung?

At the top of the stairs, it opens into a large open loft area that has a surprising feeling of comfort to it. There’s a kitchenette off to the right with just the necessities: a fridge, small table, stove and microwave.

The left side of the room appears to be the bedroom. A big messy bed sits against a headboard with intricate black vines carved into the wood. Soft pillows are haphazardly lying in all directions, some on the floor with their feathers scattered across the room. Taehyung visibly stiffens when he sees you notice them.

“Sorry about those…I think I might have a raccoon stuck in here somewhere.” He laughs and moves to kick the busted pillows under his bed.

Strange. He’s a little strange.

“Do you need something to drink?” he asks.

“Should I be worried about being here, Taehyung?” 

“What? No. No, I promise you’re safe.” He crosses the room and comes to stand in front of you, concern evident on his perfect face.

“I just…I don’t do things like this. I’ve never even had a one night stand.” You card a hand through your hair and Taehyung tips your chin up to look at him.

“Why does it need to be just one night?” His face softens and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

“Taehyung…I don’t know what I’m doing.” It’s barely a whisper.

His head tilts slightly to the side before it spasms slightly, an uncomfortable look painting his face as he shakes his head and gets the spasm under control. 

“Stop it.” Taehyung grits between his clenched teeth, mostly to himself.

“Are…are you okay?” Your worry grows by the second.

“Sorry…I’m sorry.” He cups your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly, catching you off guard. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I’m not scared of you.” It isn’t a lie. You aren’t scared, but something is off. And you’re too stupid to leave. “Should I be scared?”

“Not of me.” He speaks as if someone else is in the room. 

His mouth finds yours again and lust takes the place of worry and concern. Taehyung easily grabs your thighs and lifts you off the ground as if you weigh nothing at all.

The next moments are a blur of clothing being stripped and bare skin coming in contact with hands and lips. Teeth scrape over nipples and long fingers drown themselves inside your dripping pussy. The warehouse echos with the sounds of your moans and his deep groans.

After your first thigh shaking orgasm, Taehyung sits on the edge of his bed and you kneel in front of him between his knees, taking his far too perfect cock into your mouth. You worship him with your tongue and make him come down your throat, his hands tightly gripping your hair.

Chills run through your sweaty body as he bends you over his bed and eases his cock inside you. Stars explode behind your eyelids while your fingers grip the bed sheets.

“He doesn’t fuck you enough, does he Pigeon? You’re so fucking tight.” Taehyung’s fingers dig harshly into your hips as he mercilessly pounds you from behind.

You can only moan in response, the coil in your stomach tightening and threatening to burst again. Tears slip from the corners of your eyes and stain the sheets you’re so desperately clinging to.

His fingers suddenly start to feel sharper, like they could pierce your skin at any moment, past the point of hurting in a good way.

“Stop,” Taehyung growls and the piercing feeling of his fingers starts to let up. If your brain wasn’t so fogged by your oncoming orgasm you may have questioned who the hell he was talking to.

“I’m so close,” you whine, feeling Taehyung press himself closer to you, one of his hands coming to the back of your head and pushing you deeper into the mattress. The new angle  makes you feel him so deeply that even your stomach clenches and the dam finally breaks; you’re falling off the edge of the most shattering orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

Taehyung’s hips stutter as you clench around him, making him moan deep in his chest. When you can no longer hold up your body, he grabs your shoulder and flips you onto your back, then immediately slides his cock back inside your overly sensitive pussy.

You’re so blissfully fucked that it takes you a moment to focus your eyesight on his face. Sweaty black curls sticking to his forehead as you lift your heavy arms and dig your fingers into his hair so you can pull his mouth down onto yours.

“I almost…I almost lost control. You feel so good.” His tongue swipes into your mouth as he angles himself to hit your g-spot with every hard thrust of his hips.

“Please come, Taehyung.” Your nails dig into his back and leave scratch marks across his skin.

“Never wanted anyone as much as I want you…fuck we want you so badly.” He buries his face into your neck as he thrusts once, twice more before you feel him spill inside of you. Hips bruisingly tight against yours as his cock twitches each time more cum fills you up.

“Holy shit.” You move your hands back to his hair and gently lift up to see his face. You swear when he looks at you that all the color has drained from his eyes. They’re solid white.

You gasp and blink once, seeing Taehyung’s pretty brown eyes looking back at you in less than a second.

“Wh-what was that?” You’re still panting.

“What was what, Pigeon?” He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek before he slowly pulls out and walks to his bathroom, giving you a chance to ogle his perfect little ass and the muscles of his back.

“I just…thought I saw something,” you say when he returns to the bed with a cloth for you to clean up with. You really need to get more sleep if you’re starting to see things.

“Did I hurt you?” Taehyung’s face is suddenly a lot more serious when he reaches out to run his fingers over the apple of your cheek.

You remember the way his hands felt on your hips. How they could’ve been on the verge of piercing through your skin. At least, that’s what you thought when it was happening.

Looking down at your hips, there’s obvious red marks from fingertips, but also scratch marks that just don’t seem like they could’ve come from Taehyung’s short cut nails. What the hell?

“I um…I think I’m okay.” You pull the covers up over your hips a little, hoping he won’t see.

“You should sleep here. I can take you home in the morning, I’m just too sleepy right now.” He pouts his mouth a little and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his side.

“Okay.” You’re admittedly too spent to call an Uber or argue with him about taking you home tonight. You just need to sleep. Sleep will fix everything. Tomorrow you will wake up and not feel like you’re losing your entire mind.

“…don’t ever fucking do that again…” You hear part of a conversation in your half asleep state. “I swear if you would have hurt her…”

Who the hell is Taehyung talking to in the middle of the night?

“She’s with the spider….liability.” A deep inhuman voice fills the empty air. Your eyes shoot open wide and every nerve is suddenly completely wired.

Are they…are they talking about Jungkook?

“She’s not. She said she’s not,” Taehyung’s voice answers, stress evident in his words.

“We should eat her now…” 

“No! You’ll have to kill me if you think you’re ever touching her. And we both know you can’t do that,” Taehyung yells.

You wrap the thin sheet around your naked body and slowly move towards the railing that overlooks the open part of the warehouse downstairs. You stay back far enough so not to alert anyone of your presence.

Looking down, you see Taehyung sitting at a table with his back towards you, wearing his black jeans slung low on his hips and nothing else. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

And that’s when it seems like the shadows around him start to move and your heart threatens to burst from your chest. Because not only do they move, but they have a face. A terrifying face that is seeping from the back of Taehyung’s neck and moving around him …as it talks.

“You’re weak for her,” the monster growls deeply, its huge teeth and unnaturally long tongue becoming more apparent as it moves into the light.

“We had a deal.” Taehyung seethes. “I’m literally the only person you haven’t killed when you bonded with them. You need me to get your symbiote friends home and I need you to take down that fucking lab.”

You can barely believe what you’re seeing or hearing. Is this the monster Jungkook was talking about? The one breaking into the lab across the river?

“Aren’t we friends?” The monster asks in a condescending way.

“Not if you hurt ____. She has no idea what she’s in the middle of and it should stay that way.” Taehyung holds his arms out straight and the monster starts to wrap its moving pitch black skin around him…its skin becoming his.

You’re so startled by the sight in front of you that you stumble back, knocking over an end table full of magazines and books. Fuck.

“Shit,” you hear Taehyung say before the monster has completely consumed him. What stands in his place is something you will never forget for the rest of your life.

The monster must be at least 8 feet tall, huge bulking muscles made of that inhuman black skin that constantly appears to be moving. Its  huge white eyes land right on you immediately, its  mouth and teeth pulling into a wicked smile as it jumps into the air and clears the railing in a single leap. You scream as the ground crunches beneath its feet when it lands in front of you.

The monster looms over you and all the breath in your lungs disappears.

“What…what are you?” you croak, fear freezing you in place.

“We…are Venom.”

taglist: @hanversace @chaelvrx @moonchild1 @rkivewritersblog @ungodlyjoon @ricecakeslove @jeonsweetpea @screamertannie @tearyjjeon @kookrecs @bintificreads @minisugakoobies

series masterlist | main masterlist | Part Two

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Chapter One

An Illustrated Collaboration with @zestys-stuff

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's creator @zestys-stuff. I love her and all her art so much that when I saw Ralak I was so compelled to write a fic for him. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Teytey, you knocked it out the park with this one (as you always do, my love).

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: shit ton of fluff, profanity, age gap, a lot of sexual tension, size difference, let me know if i forgot anything?

Word Count: 4.4k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: I hope I did this gorgeous man justice and wrote his character well. It was an interesting challenge to introduce his character and build a plot with it. Chapter two and three will be out shortly! I’m beyond overjoyed that you guys are excited for this 😊 I hope I don’t disappoint lool

Synopsis: Your family seeks uturu with the Metkayina in the village of Awa’atlu. You have a difficult time adjusting, and are assigned your own special teacher, Ralak.

Next ->

The Sully family adopted you from birth, taking you in as their own. They were more than patient with your delayed milestones, moving at the slow pace you set since childhood. You completed your iknimaya a cycle later than your siblings, despite your eagerness to prove your self-worth as one of the Sully’s. Being a late bloomer and smaller than the average na’vi never put a damper on your optimistic attitude, though. It only added fuel to the fire.

The news to seek uturu with the Metkayina came as a shock not only to you but the rest of your siblings, and soon became the leading topic of discussions at family dinner. Jake explained that this is what was necessary, and that you would need to ‘pull your weight’ and ‘make a real effort’. You knew he didn’t mean it as harsh as it sounded, but the words stung nonetheless, plucking out a couple heart strings when they pierced through your chest.

You’ll never forget the day of your arrival here.

War horns blew loudly, signalling your arrival to the village of Awa’atlu. All the members of the clan swarmed the shore to see what the fuss was all about. Even the little ones that could only toddle wriggled their way out of their parents’ arms to get a glimpse. It was overwhelming – to say the least – to have all these eyes on you, scanning every foreign feature of your body, walking around you to inspect you further. You’d never felt more objectified in your life.

When Tonowari and Ronal made their grand entrance on their skimwings, your heart thud furiously in your chest. Sure, the large, winged fish took you by surprise, but the man to Tonowari’s right shook you to your core. His head tilted in wariness, hunting knife secured cautiously in his right hand and the leather wrapped reign gripped tightly in his left.

Wet, long hair plastered to his chest; he eyed you down momentarily before averting his gaze to the rest of your family that calmed their ikrans. His eyes widened ever so slightly at the winged creatures, large with armoured skin, much like the beast he’s bonded with.

You couldn’t help but stare aghast at his sinewy, chiselled features – sculpted by Eywa herself. It didn’t take long for you to understand why he was Tonowari’s right-hand man. His expression of indifference remained fixed on his face. Embodying that of an akula, his presence brought an intimidation like no other.

But what you couldn’t understand were the butterflies that plagued your stomach.

Your gaze lingered for a moment too long, the akula himself now returning the leer. It sent shivers down your spine, turning your butterflies into knots. You looked away, gaze falling onto your toes that burrowed their way into the sand. You felt his eyes bore into you, taking in each dark blue stripe on your tiny body, your slender extremities and thin tail.

You peeked at him through the corner of your eye, to see his gaze locked on your tail as it swished side to side. You saw his ears perk up, and the minor curl of his lips, a sight only a person staring as intently as you would see. You watched as his expression morphed into one of confusion, just before he dropped his head all together. 

You would later come to find out that he couldn’t quite understand his own butterflies in his stomach.

The giant stayed seated on his winged beast, as Tonowari and Ronal dismounted theirs and crossed the shore in only a few strides. Initially, they were wary of your arrival, thinking your family would bring war to their village. After your father reassured them, they were gracious enough to grant uturu for your family, and even dispatched their own children to teach you the ways of the people.

Naturally, you had a hard time adjusting to the new biome, water was never really your thing to begin with. You were slow in the water, slender body only holding you back more. The olo’eyktan’s son, Ao’nung, quickly grew agitated with you, handing you off to his sister, Tsireya, who was already overwhelmed with teaching your siblings. You felt like a burden, holding everyone back during lessons. There was absolutely nothing that you were getting the hang of, not even the ‘finger talk’ as you brother calls it.

For the first in your life, you felt completely defeated.

The sweet, determined girl disappeared, leaving nothing but her shell behind. You started missing lessons, making up reasons to stay back in your family marui pod. You often found yourself alone sitting on the shore in the height of the eclipse, dipping your feet into the warm water. Jake would always find his babygirl, demanding to know what was wrong. But you could never reveal the truth, not after what he said to you before your departure. Especially not now, not after failing so terribly for two entire months.

At this point, your siblings had passed their iknimaya, and you were the only one left.

----

Tsireya presses two fingertips right above your navel, resting her other hand on your chest, fixing your posture. “Breathe from down here. You must slow down your heartbeat, y/n.”

You’ve heard this a million times by now. You know this, but it didn’t matter. No matter how hard you tried, you just couldn’t get it. Frustrated, you exhale harshly, gritting your teeth so you won’t speak the words flooding your mind.

“Look. I know you’re frustrated, but you are getting so much better. If we just keep –”

“No! I’m fucking tired of this. I’ll never get it. Alright?!” you shout, shuffling to your feet to.

You scan the circle of surprised na’vi, all of which are staring up at you in disbelief. You could see Tsireya’s face screw with hurt, which only makes your heart ache more. An apology brews in your chest, when all five pairs of eyes flicker to something behind you. Turning on your heels, you see what everyone is looking at.

Jake, Tonowari, and his right-hand man all standing in front of you, presumably listening to your every word. You stand there for a bit, eyes bouncing between Tonowari and Jake before landing on the giant. He stands tall, staring off into the distance with that same deadpan look on his face. His hair is tucked behind his ears, revealing the stud in his lobe, the freckles on his jaw – the deeper blue markings on his neck.

This is the first time you’re getting a good look at him, seeing the first time you two met things were... eventful.

His freckles are conspicuous, even in broad daylight, beautifully patterned and abundant throughout his body. Perhaps it’s his lighter-cyan coloured skin and swirls for stripes, but his freckles twinkled just right from the reflection of the water. They even seemed to trace his stripe pattern on his forehead and brow bones. A single tahni under each eye... his ocean, impassive eyes.

A sleeve of tattoos covers his right arm, a sleeve on his right knee to his ankle, and a tattoo of stripes below his navel that went underneath his – oh. Your brows lift slightly, tensed facial muscles relaxing.

That’s an interesting place for a tattoo.

This tattoo continued between his prominent v-lines, under the band of his loincloth. You begin counting the stripes.

One, two, three, four, five... six.

It takes the sound of Jake clearing his throat for you to reluctantly peel your eyes away from this poor man’s crotch.

“Right, babygirl. Ralak here is going to be your teacher from now on.” Jake motions his hand over to the Metkayina, who’s now visibly, and unsuccessfully, trying to appear friendlier.

You couldn’t help but scoff, frustration now bubbling over in your chest once more. “So what? I’m so shit at this that I need a ‘special’ teacher?” you glance over at Ralak and roll your eyes.

“Language!” Jake whispers harshly, giving you that look. The look he gives you when you’re embarrassing him. 

“No. I’m tired of this. I want to go home.” you shrug, storming past him just for him to wrap his hand around your upper arm and drag you back.

“That’s enough.” Jake growls, bending over to meet you at eye level. “Tonowari has been kind enough to arrange for Ralak to help you. He was once a fisherman.”

“The best. At about your age.” Tonowari stands proudly as he utters the words, “And now he’s one of the best warriors. I hand selected him myself.”

Your eyes flicker over to Ralak, whose ears lay flat against his skull, brows slightly pinched, jaw clenched. It’s hard to tell what he was feeling, his mask of indifference fixed tightly on his face. Was he grimacing? Or maybe he was trying not to.

Regardless, it looked as if the words upset him. Maybe there was something more beneath this cold exterior. Something that maybe you can pry out of him. Something that intrigued you. The corners of your lips curl upwards, an expression that any outsider would perceive as happiness, but Jake knew you had something else in mind.

Something more mischievous.

“I apologize, sir. I am... just frustrated.” your eyes shift from one giant to the next as you bow before the olo’eyktan. “It would be an honour to have Ralak be my...” you glance over at him, “...karyu [teacher].”

Jake remains silent, pursing his lips as he watches the scene unfold.

“Ah. I understand.” Tonowari smirks, shrugging his shoulder. “It is decided, Ralak will teach you.” he looks at Ralak, giving the order, “Today.”

Jake raises his brows at you, as if he were telling you to behave and not cause any trouble. You tilt your head and subtly stick out just the tip of your tongue. Tonowari walks away, a large hand brushing against Jake’s back to signal him to follow. Jake turns around and joins the larger na’vi, two olo’eyktans now making their way back to the tall mangroves.

“Hey, karyu.” you sing, eyes fluttering as you stare up at the towering man.

He looks down at you for a moment, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips. His ears twitch as he swiftly turns around, walking away from you. “Come.”

So that’s what his voice sounds like.

It’s gruff, yet smoky. Deep and husky, thick with... nothing but his Metkayina accent. It was flat and monotone, revealing nothing of his true character. You follow closely behind him, already excited about how you plan to get him to reveal more about himself. He seems to be a man of few words, reserved and... composed. You couldn’t deny that there is a part of you that wants to poke at him, to see how far you can take things with him.

Before you know it, you’re standing in a secluded clearing on the shore, nestled far away where the fishermen tend to hunt. You look around, scanning your surroundings with curious eyes. You see a secluded marui pod, seemingly larger than all the others you’ve seen thus far. It's tightly woven with orange and red sturdy material, secured tightly to the thick mangrove roots around it.

“That yours?” you stick him with your first poke of the day, eager eyes trying to look inside the marui.

His gaze remains fixed on the fishnet that he’s gathering in his hands. “Yes.”

“Pretty big for...” you mumble, shifting your gaze towards him to be met with the sight of him unbuckling his cumberbund. “...just one person.” your voice dwindles in volume, fading out into a breathy whisper.

If your eyes could protrude from your head anymore, they would. You always had a hard time masking how you feel as your facial expressions were quick to give it away. His cumberbund falls into the wet sand, embellished razor sharp akula teeth piercing its surface. Your eyes trail up his body, settling on his bare chest.

“Today, fishing net. Tomorrow, ilu.” he mutters, putting his hair into a loose bun as he ventures further into the water.

“O-kay.” the word comes out broken and awkward.

Venturing out into the water, he settles in the spot he used to go frequently as a fisherman. Waist deep into the water, he looks behind him, chin meeting his chest to land his gaze on you, chest-deep in the water. He realizes that he's gone too far out for you, and walks towards you.

Your beaded top plasters to your chest, revealing your peaked nipples as your breasts bounce with the tide. His eyes quickly avert to the shore, eyelids fluttering a little faster than they should.

“Come.” he walks past you, prompting you to follow him once more. You bounce your way back to the shore until the water is crashing into your stomach. “Watch.” he says, fixing his stance to show you a demonstration.

You watch intently, focus being on the wrong thing, honestly. Your eyes had a hard time looking away from his chiselled body – from each dip and ridge of his muscles on full display. How could you focus? Especially now that he’s barely thigh deep into the water, loincloth clung to his bulge. You swallowed thickly at the sight, was that huge thing really his –

“Erm. Got it?” the sound of him clearing his throat snaps you out of your deep thought.

“Mhm!” you nod quickly, doe eyed and genial smiled.

He nods once, handing you the netting. You take it slowly, buying yourself sometime to figure out how to throw this thing. Standing with your left foot in front of your right, you bend your elbows out, holding the yoke of the net close to your chest.

He grunts in disapproval, settling behind you to fix your stance. He gently kicks your feet apart, putting your dominant foot in front. Large hands grip your tiny waist, shifting your stance slightly to the left. They slip up your sides, and run along the length of your upper arms, stopping at your elbows to tuck them in. He’s so focused on correcting your poor posture that he doesn’t even realize how he’s pressing himself against you.

“Like this.” he huffs, hand enveloping yours to shift it further from the yoke of the cast net. “Hold here.” his other hand grabs the lead line and plunks it into yours.

Heart pounding at a dangerous speed, you take a few deep breaths. Perhaps it was the nerves of casting your first net, or maybe it was just how this gentle giant is pressed against you. Either way, you can’t ignore the butterflies that flutter in your stomach again.

“Now throw.” he says barely over a whisper, backing away from you.

You twist your upper body, core tensing when you throw the net as hard as you can, only for it to clump together rather than spread out. Your shoulders drop and lips press tight, a wave of disappointment washing over you.

“Again.” he orders, pulling the net towards him.

--

Ralak had you throw the net half a dozen more times before giving you your first break. You prodded and poked at him, trying your best pry personal information out of him – to no avail. He remained unaffected by your persistent jabs, revealing nothing other than how he pined for the days of being a fisherman.

“Karyu. I-I’ll never get it.” you huff in frustration, gathering the fishnet from the surface of the water for a tenth time.

“Again.” he says patiently, unbothered by your frustration.

“Karyu. Please. It is not working. Can’t we try something else?” you beg, arms and back sore from throwing the fishnet so many times.

He looks at you for a moment, taking in the slouch of your back – the strain on your face. He felt bad for you, but he could also see that you were so close to learning the skill.

“No. Again.” he orders monotonously, taking note of your gaze drifting off to the mangroves nearby. “Focus. Eyes on me.”

“How am I supposed to focus when you look so, so –” you cut yourself short with a sigh.

“So, what?” he tilts his head and raises a brow.

You shake your head and roll your eyes, landing them right on that damn tattoo again.

Why was it so low? Didn’t that hurt? Why there of all places?

“Look. I see you –”

The words make your eyes snap up to his, heart thumping wildly in your chest.

“...staring.”

You didn’t realise you were lingering until he pointed it out. How could you not? Surely, he chose that spot for a reason. Perhaps his mate wanted it there, so she could trace the lines with her tongue, all the way down to his –

Am I... jealous right now? I don’t even know this man.

“Who did that tattoo?” you question harshly, green flame of envy igniting in your chest.

“This one?” he chuckles softly, tugging at the hem of his loincloth.

You drop your head, gaze locked on your hands fiddling with the net, hoping to hide the blood that’s rushing to your cheeks. “Yeah. That one.”

“Again. And I tell you.” he pulls the hem back up before crossing his arms over his chest.

Your gaze snaps back up to him, eyes wide with excitement. This is the first time he’d be revealing anything personal about himself. A smile splits your lips as you fix the net in your hands once more, burrowing your feet into the sand. Your eyes narrow on the target – a school of fish off in the near distance.

Twisting your torso, you cast the fishnet, watching it splay out perfectly and trap majority of the fish. You stare in awe, surprised that it even splayed out much less caught some fish. Once it registers, you jump up in glee, quickly turning to your teacher to see his pleased expression and slight nod.

“I did.” he utters, a smirk barely pulling at his lips.

Adrenaline still coursing through your veins, you’re perplexed by his two words. “Huh?” you huff, brows pinching together in confusion.

“I did the tattoo.” he says, holding eye contact with you.

“Oh.” your lips pucker at the words, furrowed brows now raising in understanding. Being so surprised by yourself – finally getting something right – you forgot about your little deal.

He breaks eye contact to look over at your perfectly casted fishnet. “If you ride an ilu, maybe I show you the rest of it.” he says through his thick accent, making his way towards the fishnet. “Since you are so... interested.”

“I-I’m not – it, it is just in a – an interesting spot.” you stutter, eyes locked onto your twiddling thumbs.

“Ah.” he gathers the fishnet in his large hands, bundling it together to call it a day. “If you say so... vultsyìp [stick; tree branch]”

“What did you just call me?” your leer snaps up, eyelids squinting at his tensed back muscles that flex and relax as he gathers the net.

A smile pulls at his lips, although you can barely see it from the angle in which he’s facing. It’s contagious, causing your own lips to curl, and soon enough you’re giggling into your hand.

----

Ralak became the light in the darkness, pulling you out of your shell and filling you with the purpose that you once lost. Things came quick to you, thanks to him. He was a great teacher, always patient with you, never showing his agitation – or any other emotion for that matter.

You learned how to hold your breath properly in only a week, due to his persistence and confidence in you. He’d always be quick to praise you after you accomplished something, whether that be with a quick clap, a gentle tap on the back, or – in bigger accomplishments – a hug.

The bond between the two of you strengthened. Overnight. You put a crack in his walls, and bits of his true self began to shine through them. And that was your biggest accomplishment yet. To see a person with the strength of five men turn into a little water puppy in front of you, and you only.

There would be moments where his façade of indifference would drop completely. The moments where he would chuckle a little too loudly, a little too long. Where that shy smile grew wide enough to flash his lengthy canines, and a primal part of you that you tried to supress, desired to know what they felt like sunk into your neck. Clamping down on you while you writhe underneath him, being tamed by his touch.

The moments where you’d tease one another about your differences. His stature in comparison to yours. Pressing your hands together, only for yours to be lost in his palm. And when you pulled away, your fingers intertwined ever so slightly, prickling the skin all over your body. He loved to tease you. Honestly a little too much, poking at your chest with a figurative finger about how you favoured that of a vultsyìp. It’s what got you riled up the most and soon it became your nickname.

Until the day you successfully rode your first ilu.

It was an exhilarating experience, nothing like what you had experienced prior. You glided through the water effortlessly, flowing with the movements of the blubbery creature. When you broke the waters’ surface, Ralak stood proudly in the shallow end, arms crossed over his chest with a smile on his face. It was a rare occurrence – that smile.

And when you laid your eyes on such a sight, the butterflies flew back into your stomach, fluttering and flapping harder than they ever have. They soon became plenty in number, filling your stomach to the brim until you can no longer suppress the way you feel. The flutter in your stomach radiated throughout your body, sending your legs fluttering too. You swam quickly to him, surprising yourself with your speed.

--

“You did it. Like I said.” he smiles smugly.

“Hope you didn’t forget about our deal.” you grin, wringing out the water from your hair.

“You would not let me.” he scoffs, shaking his head as he uncrosses his arms. “Ready?” he asks, cocking a brow while his fingers glide down his stomach, finding purchase under the under the band of his loincloth.

“From the moment I saw it, karyu.” you say, voice feigned with confidence.

He could see through your disguise, though. It only makes him chuckle, to see such a little thing act so big – so dauntless. He tugs his loincloth down, taut strings now sinking into his upper thighs, revealing not only the entirety of his tattoo but also the base of his length.

“H-how did you manage to do that all on your own? Didn’t it hurt?” you ask sheepishly, voice laced with concern.

“Bottle of fermented fruit and a rag to bite. No pain.” he answers, Metkayina accent thick.

You examine it a little closer, leaning in to have a better look. It’s raised, very slightly – invisible to anyone not staring as intently as you are. Most definitely because it’s hand poked, by himself of all people. An innocent thought floods your mind, so loud that you couldn’t stop the movement of your own hand.

How does it feel?

“Can I –” you glance up at him briefly, hand hovering over the tattoo, “Can I touch it?”

His brows and ears shudder for just a few seconds. He quickly regains his composure, swallowing silently before giving you a single nod. Fingertips experimentally graze over the tattoo, taking in its bumpy texture. Your digits trace each line of his tattoo, down to his pelvis. A sudden jerk of his hips causes you to yank your hand back.

“S-sorry, Ralak.” you mumble, feeling a little ashamed that you may have made him uncomfortable.

But in all honesty, your innocent, little touches were arousing him and he didn’t want you to know. 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” he states, fixing his loincloth.

You straighten your spine, a foot stepping back to create space that you think he wants, only for him to pull you in for a hug.

“You did well today, vultsyìp.” he mumbles, hands resting on your head and back. “Tsurak [skimwing] next and you will be Metkayina.”

“Hmm. I’ll think about it.” you giggle, warm embrace and snarky commentary ebbing away whatever feelings of doubt tensing your chest.

It’s the way his huge arms engulf you that make you feel so protected and accepted. It’s something you always looked forward to after a big achievement. You lean into him, laying your head on his chest. The smell of sea salt mixed with leather hide wafts up your nose. You take a deep breath, holding it in your lungs until you feel light in the head. Releasing your breath with a loud huff, you smile widely.

It’s so enticing, so addictive.

“You always do that.” he chuckles breathily, swiping back a few strands of hair stuck to your temple.

“’ts not my fault you sea people smell so good.” you mumble into his chest, taking in another deep breath.

“Ah.” he exhales, hand cupping the back of your head. “My hì’i vultsyìp [little stick]” he almost grimaces at his words, it just wasn’t fitting anymore. Not for situations like these. Not when his chest feels so tight.

You lift your head and stare up at him with eyes of innocence. He looks down at you, ocean blue eyes searching yours. You’d never even noticed the little yellow ring around his pupils until now, how they shimmer when the light catches them just right. There’s an unspoken tension, thick in the air – so thick it makes you swallow the spit pooling in your cheeks. Your smile fades, lips parting as your breaths turn hot.

Eyes growing heavy, they almost close in anticipation that he might – just might – kiss you.

“Tanhì.” he mutters, eyes minutely shifting between each freckle on your forehead. He’s counts them, admiring how they embellish your supple, dark blue skin.

Your smile returns like it never left, except it’s wider – brighter. The last ray of sun shines through the sliver of a gap between your silhouettes, averting your attention to the oncoming eclipse.

“Thank you, karyu.” you whisper, reluctantly pulling away from his arms to make the trek back home.

“Tomorrow...” he watches your small figure shrink as you walk away. “...my tanhì.”

--

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[ichatake]

SECOND CHANCE PT.2

Request are open! Request rules here!

Part. 1, Part. 2

Pairing: Obito x reader x Kakashi

Summary: Obito, after surviving the war was allowed back into the village. You made it your mission to make sure he gets completely rehabilitated. However, a certain someone gets jealous at the loss of attention.

Warning: mentions of blood, slight violence.

A/N: Finally the long awaited part. 2 has come out! I really focused on making this a better chapter than the first one, and was written a little less rushed. I really enjoy how I've developed the story, and I hope you guys do too! Thank you so much for all of your support, and I hope you enjoy! (Also I reread this a few times but there still might be a few mistakes here and there, sorry!!)

The atmosphere was oppressive and thick, the heavy rain showing no signs of ceasing as you trudged forward on the muddy path. Your two students followed close behind you, tired and worn out after so much non-stop walking. Their feet got stuck in the thick mud, feeling heavy and wet as it stuck to their shoes and weighed them down relentlessly. Yet you seemed restless and preoccupied—a far-off look on your face that they had never seen before. It suggested that your mind had wandered elsewhere; somewhere far from where the mission demanded it to be. 

Toko’s voice had been the one breaking your train of thought for only a moment, his words carrying a hint of concern as he spoke. “Sensei, it’s been hours—the weather isn’t getting any better, and we can barely see through this fog. We should take shelter,” he suggested tiredly, noticing that you were already a fair distance ahead of them. 

“Seek shelter where, idiot? We’re stranded—stuck in the middle of nowhere, this damn rain isn’t doing us any favors, and we can barely see anyone who might be standing a good few feet away from us. You’re just wishing that we get ambushed by rogue ninjas, aren’t you?” Kenji blurts out irritably, his mood further battered by the horrible weather. He hated being tired—more than he already was. However, despite the bickering, you didn’t slow down. It seems as if you hadn’t even heard their small exchange, which they noticed immediately. Has something happened? You hadn’t muttered a word since you left the village—so something was obviously wrong with their teacher who showed this uncharacteristic behavior. 

Toko quickened his pace, catching up to you and running in front of you, forcing you to halt before you could collide with him. “Sensei?” He called out to you, concern evident on his expression as he scanned your face. 

“Huh?” You blink, “What are you doing? We still have a long way to go, we need to keep moving,” you reply as you look at your map. It was… drenched and torn in some places, making it difficult to make out its content. Nonetheless, you refused to stop now, despite the mist obscuring your path and vision. 

As if things couldn’t possibly get worse, it began thundering, prompting all the three of you to look up at the gray sky. The fact that the weather wouldn’t improve any time soon had you release an annoyed sigh, leading you to fold your damp map and stuff it inside your pocket. Toko’s facial expression seemed to relax slightly, a glimmer of relief evident on his face. “So,” you exclaim, arms crossing over your chest as your eyes fixed on the dark haired boy standing before you. “What do you propose we do—better yet, where do you suggest we stay?”

“Well, I’ve seen a few lamps here and there—fences as well. So we aren’t in a completely secluded area,” he observes, scanning his surroundings, only to find gray mist obstructing his vision. “So, you want to stray from the path to find a shelter?” you ask once more, rubbing your throbbing head with the palm of your hand. “We couldn’t possibly be near a place to stay, we’re—,” 

“Look, right there,” Kenji suddenly pointed in another direction. As both you and Toko shifted your attention towards the direction pointed, you saw a faint glow cutting through the dense fog. You were cautious at first, hesitating and wondering if it was worth pursuing. For all you knew, it might be someone following you. However, as you closed the distance between the light and the three of you, a small cabin surrounded by low wooden fences came into view. They seemed more decorative than practical, in all honesty, considering their height made them ineffective to keep anyone out. 

“Be careful,” you caution your students as you approach the door. The thunder was getting worse, so if whatever—or whoever stayed here had the heart to give refuge to three Konoha shinobi, you’d deeply appreciate it. 

You firmly knock on the door—the cabin’s exterior is made out of the same dark-hued wood, while the roof was constructed from heavy metal. You heard shuffling from the inside, and finally, the door opened. An elderly lady, short and plump, gazed up at you, a hint of concern falling onto her features as she noticed your weary state. “Oh dear,” she mutters in concern as she examines all three of you. You were drenched and covered in mud, in need of assistance. In other words, you looked horrible and helpless. With one glance at your headband, she instantly recognizes the familiar leaf symbol, her eyes darting to your face as though she’d seen you before. 

“I’m sorry to bother ma’am,” you begin, your voice laced with the chill of the cold weather, your cheeks cold and red, “But would you be willing to provide us refuge until the weather gets any better?” the lady gazes downwards, contemplating your request before nodding in agreement. She opens the door wider, signaling for you and your students to enter. She certainly wouldn’t like being outside in this weather. “Come, come. Hurry,” she beckons, her hospitality reaching you.

You, Toko, and Kenji step inside hurriedly, muddy shoes leaving messy footprints on the floor, turning the wood into a mess. You looked down at your mess, opening your mouth to apologize, but the elderly lady swiftly reassures you. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll clean it up later,” She takes the heavy bags from your back,  placing them near the fireplace to dry. “You must be freezing, I’ll get you some nice, warm clothes and—,”

“No, no, it’s fine,” you begin, waving your hands in front of you, “You don’t have to go through the trouble—,” 

“Oh shush, this is no trouble at all, dear,” she reassures you as she disappears into another room, briefly leaving the three of you standing awkwardly at the door as you wait. You take the initiative to remove your dirty shoes, before glancing at your students tentatively. “Take your shoes off,” you swiftly say, considering it impolite to wear shoes indoors. They comply, placing them at the doorway where yours were placed neatly, “I’m guessing this two day mission is going to take a little longer than expected,” Toko complains, only straightening up when he sees the lady coming back carrying some nice traditional-looking robes. 

“Here, these will fit perfectly. You two are about the same size as my grandsons,” she smiles, pinching Toko’s cheek affectionately and handing him the robe, repeating her actions with Kenji, causing him to become a little flustered. 

“And this is for you,” she kindly hands you a robe in a deep shade of purple, “This was my daughter’s, but it hasn’t been in use in a long time,” Grateful for her actions, you take the piece of clothing and bow respectfully, showing your deep gratitude, “Thank you, I appreciate this a lot ma’am. How can I ever repay you—,” you start, only to be interrupted by the lady.

“Don't be silly, dear. There’s no need for that,” she smiles, patting your cheek while dismissing your offer of repayment. “Come, I’ll show you where you can get changed into these warm clothes,” she guides you three down the hallways of her home, leading the boys to a room, while you are taken to another. “Here you are,” she smiles, opening the door for you. “I’ll prepare some soup for you, make yourself at home,” she closes the door behind you, leaving you to change into the clothes she had provided you with.

The room was empty, with clear signs that someone had previously lived there before your intrusion. Photographs of a young woman and a few more family members decorated the walls, making you slightly uncomfortable at the thought that you were intruding on a family home. However, you pushed the thoughts away as you began peeling off your soaked clothes.

‘Just know that I’m sorry’

Kakashi’s words still echoed softly through your head like a faint lullaby. ‘I should’ve said something’ you thought, releasing a heavy sigh you had been holding in you ever since you left the village. A pang of regret tugged at you as you sat on the edge of the bed, draped in the silk robes that fit you like a glove. ‘He apologized and I didn’t even say anything,’ you rub your temple, your head throbbing in pain. It was a constant companion since you’d left the village, and now It seemed that you finally had time to dwell on the events that occurred these past few weeks. Now that you were away from both Obito and Kakashi, there was space to think clearly, undisturbed by their presence.

Your heart squeezed at the thought of Kakashi—a bright blush staining your cheeks. He had confessed his feelings for you—Kakashi Hatake—the man whom everyone believed would remain lonely throughout the remainder of his life. The man that never seemed to fall for anyone. He let himself become vulnerable for you, a side of him you had never witnessed, and you had shut him out. You gently smack yourself on the cheek, reprimanding yourself for your actions, “I’m such an idiot,” you murmur. You had potentially ruined a once-in-a-lifetime relationship with the man you had feelings for! You’ve liked this man for years, and you rejected him—technically rejected him—over a man who you barely knew.

In that moment, you realized the fault in your actions. You had been blinded by a foolish crush that you failed to recognize the differences between the two men. Kakashi was right, Obito wasn’t the same boy he once was. He was a man who had altered ideals, someone bent on reshaping reality as he pleased. He was a broken man that changed all throughout those lonesome years. You didn’t know him; you had a painted image of who he could possibly be. In contrast, your relationship with Kakashi was built with shared experiences and vulnerabilities. You two taught together, fought together, cried together. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable state and you’ve seen him in his. And that’s what you pushed aside? For someone who could be considered a stranger? Because Obito had not cried with you, had not fought with you, had not been there for you when you were hurt. All you knew about Obito was what he wanted you to know. You knew what he told you. You knew what you saw.

You rubbed your temple, attempting to dispel the thoughts from running your mind. Dwelling on them would only amplify the growing stress you had. There was no point in thinking about this now, considering how the mission demanded your full attention. Finally standing up, you opened the sliding door and stepped out, hearing the faint voices coming from the direction you had come from before. They were your students. The floorboards creaked under your feet as you approached them, their heads turning towards you when you finally got there. They had been sitting down on the floor at the table—waiting for something, you assumed.

“Hey sensei,” Toko grins, “Take a look at these,” He stands up and shows off his clothing, “They fit perfectly,” he strikes a pose, ultimately leading to Kenji pulling him down to sit, “Sit down and be quiet will you? (Y/N) sensei already looks tired enough for you to wear her out any more,” he rolls his eyes as Toko began to protest, “What’s your deal Kenji, I’m trying to show off these cool robes!” he exclaims, plopping down cross-legged, sulking playfully.

You can’t help but let out a chuckle at their banter, taking a moment to glance around the cabin, “They look fine,”you say, and as you gazed at the home, you noticed the lady was inside of what you assumed to be the kitchen. You approach the table and sit down, getting comfortable on the small cushion that was beneath you.

“Say, how’s Obito? I haven’t heard from him in a while,” Toko questions, leaning back and putting all his weight on his hands. The question makes you gaze up at him, and you shrug, “He’s been fine. He just hasn’t gone out lately. He’s used to being indoors all the time, so I don't blame him for always wanting to stay in the house,” Toko groans, pouting, “Oh man, I really wanna see him again. He’s so cool,” he says, straightening up, “Even if he was part of what happened… you know,” he adds, referring to the war, while glancing down at his legs, “I think he just needed someone to talk to,”

You observe Toko with soft eyes, watching how he spoke so empathetically. The boy has always had a gentle heart, sometimes too gentle. His empathy towards others was part of who he was. “I think so too,” you nod slowly in agreement while giving him a smile, Kenji looking away moments after, “It’s sad, you know?” Kenji mumbles, suddenly fixated on the floorboards as he tried to find the right words, “I remember what he said during the war. His reasons for the infinite Tsukuyomi,” he frowns, continuing “A person can be so lonely to the point where they need to distort reality,”

Your eyes fell on his expression, noticing the deep sadness etched on his face. “I understand why he did it,” he whispers, sighing and shrugging his shoulders, “But you know, it doesn’t mean what he did was okay,” You nod in agreement when he says this, replying “However, we shouldn’t focus on the past. Sure, it’s important to know what he did, but what matters is that he accepted change,” you smile warmly, “And he is willing to take another chance at life,”

“As he should, he would’ve been an awesome sensei,” Toko grins, making you playfully raise a brow at him, “Now hold on a second Toko, you’re not liking him better than me, are you?” you ask as you lean forward to look at him, making him shake his head furiously, “No! Of course not!” he chuckles nervously, his eyes darting around the room before insisting “You’ll always be the best teacher,” a soft hum of contentment escapes you, pleased with his answer.

“Alrighty kids, supper is ready,” the elderly lady suddenly approached the table with a gentle smile, carrying a heavy-looking metal pot brimming with soup. The smell was absolutely enticing, leaving you with a rumbling stomach and great anticipation. Toko eagerly rises, offering his assistance, “Let me help you,” he says, carefully taking the steaming pot and setting it down on the table, “Oh, thank you dear, could you be so kind and help me with the bowls as well?” She asks and without a moment’s hesitation, he nods and strides towards the kitchen to look for the wooden bowls she had pointed him to.

“I hope you like the soup, it’s my special recipe,” the old lady smiles as Toko sets down the bowls. She diligently pours the warm, flavorful broth into each bowl, her smile growing. “This was my grandsons’ favorite meal. They would beg for me to cook them some soup late at night,” a hearty chuckle escapes her, “Dig in,” 

All three of you exchange glances before turning your attention towards the lady, sincere gratitude etched on each of your faces, “Thank you for this wonderful meal,” you express your appreciation, giving respect for her before digging in. All of you begin to eat, and the moment the warm liquid envelopes your tongue, your soul leaves your body. You had never tasted soup this good. 

Toko’s eyes light up at the taste as well, “Oh man, this is amazing!” he exclaims and sips down the warm soup savagely, causing Kenji to snarl and smack Toko on the back of his head, scowling at him, “Stop eating like a pig,” he snarls, making Toko glare at him. “I’m not! You’re just so used to eating like a little prince, you don’t know what enjoying a delicious meal actually looks like,” he argues, setting the bowl down. They once again started bickering, which made your brow twitch in annoyance. They seemed to never stop bickering, not even when they’re tired. “You better stop it before I knock some sense into both of you,” you warned, making them stop momentarily, exchanging glares before they continue eating. 

You exhale deeply, shifting your gaze down to the soup in front of you. The lady sits across from you, her warm presence a comforting sight. “Thank you so much for taking us in, and I’m sorry about the boys and their bickering. I promise they’re better behaved than this” you thanked her, bowing your head in appreciation. “If it weren’t for you ma’am, we would’ve been freezing out there,” 

“It’s nothing, my dear,” she reassures you, her hands gently wrapping around a clay mug filled with steaming tea, “I could never leave you out there. Not when you’re from the leaf village,” Her statement hangs in the air as she takes a slow sip of her tea before examining your face intently. “Huh?” you respond, furrowing your brows in curiosity at what she means. The lady chuckles at your reaction before she sets the mug down. 

“My husband was a leaf ninja, such a nice man he was. May he rest in peace,” she places a hand on her chest, “I welcome Ninja from anywhere. I help anyone who needs it,” she looks at you as her gaze softens, “And you certainly needed it,” 

You chuckle sheepishly, humbled by her kindness, “Well regardless, I appreciate what you’ve done for us,” The lady waves her hand, “No need to thank me,”

After the meal, the atmosphere in the room relaxes as Toko and Kenji seem to die down. The persistent harsh weather outside was still going, and it was clearly draining their energy. The lady offered them a room so they could sleep in, and they immediately accepted her offer. They bid you goodnight and went to bed, leaving you sitting on the floor. The old lady was recounting to you some of her life stories, and you politely listened to her. You were glad, because it kept your mind away from Kakashi and Obito. 

“You know, I didn’t know if it was really you, but now that I see you up close, it’s definitely you,” the lady smiles widely, making you raise a brow, “What?” you ask and the lady gives you a nod, “I know you. I saw you when you were just a little teen,” she pours you a warm cup of tea, “You had been wounded, and a young boy brought you here,” 

You listened intently as she recounted the story, a puzzling frown decorating your face. You never recalled being here, even though you have gone to the mist village before, “I’m… sorry? I don’t recall that happening…,” you respond, meeting her gaze with uncertainty as she shook her head, “Well of course not, you were unconscious. The boy had brought you here because you needed medical attention. Nothing bad happened to you, just a few cuts here and there, but you were exhausted and fell unconscious,” the statement lingered in the air for a few seconds before you spoke up. 

“So you’re saying you saved my life before? Who was the boy?” 

“A silver haired boy, with a mask. Such a sweet boy. He never let go of your hand while I patched you up,” she chuckles, “He was very worried about you,” 

A flicker of realization crossed your face as the lady’s description reminded you of Kakashi. The memory of an old mission to the Mist village surfaced in your mind. You recalled the long and exhausting battle that led to your loss of consciousness. However, when you had awakened, you were already in the Konoha hospital. Kakashi had carried you all the way there, and you had been left with only hazy fragments of what happened. 

“So that’s…” a grateful smile tugs at your lips, “I never got to thank you,”

“Don’t worry, the boy had already thanked me enough,” she grins, “Do you still speak to that young man? Because a boy like that would’ve had me swooning,” your cheeks flushed at her comment, the corner of her lips raised in a smirk as she awaited your reply, “We still talk, but it’s nothing like that,” you clear your throat, “Well that’s just a waste,” she huffs in feigned disappointment, “You young people and your complicated feelings,”

“We just aren’t… well, we haven’t talked about it,” your cheeks flared with embarrassment as the conversation shifted to your love life. You found it pitiful that you were speaking about this with a woman you just met. But hey, they say old people know better than younglings, and you could definitely use some wisdom and understanding from someone like her. “Is that so? Then there must be another man in the picture,” shock flickered across your features as your eyes widened. Was she some sort of witch or something? How’d she know?

“Oh don’t look at me like that, I’ve lived in this world long enough to know what’s going on,” she laughs, “So, who’s the other man,”

“I uh… well…,” you sigh, looking at your hands, “This boy you mentioned, the silver haired boy, he and another boy were friends. I was friends with them too. We would’ve grown up together, but… things happened and the other boy and I… drifted apart,” you explain, trying to be as specific as possible without giving too much detail. 

“Then what’s the hard choice?” the woman inquired, her brow raised in curiosity as she tried to understand your situation, “Well, me and the silver haired boy drifted apart as well, but when I became a teacher, we kinda began speaking a lot again. Then the other boy came back into my life, and now the silver haired man is starting to drift apart from me again,” you explained yourself, but in all honesty, you were barely making any sense. 

“Drift away this, drift away that,” the woman rolls her eyes, her voice previously laced with sarcasm. “Honey, what you’re saying is making no sense at all,” she shakes her head “So, let me ask you,” she leans in, her eyes locking with yours to find pure honesty, “Who has been there for you the most?” 

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, reflecting deeply on her question. You wanted to be honest with your response, not wanting to inadvertently deceive her. “Well… Kakashi,” you spoke after a few moments of contemplation, your voice soft but earnest. The name left your lips with a certain vulnerability, a mix of emotions attached to it. 

The amused glint in the woman's eyes made your cheeks burn with embarrassment, “I don’t know who Kakahsi is, dear,” she teased playfully. 

You quickly corrected yourself, “The silver haired boy,”

“Then what’s the point of liking the other boy, if the person who has always been with you should be your first choice,” you look down and at your hands, absorbed in her words “I didn’t waste any time. When my husband saved my life, I made sure I married him,” she hums and slowly stands up, “But, it is your choice. What does an old lady like myself know anyways?” she shrugs with a smile, “You should get some rest, you still haven’t completed your mission, and you’ll need all that energy for tomorrow”

Obito peered at the ninja standing in front of him, sizing them up with a thoughtful gaze. He paused for a brief moment before clearing his throat and responding, "A summoning? Urgent?" A glint of curiosity flickered in his eyes as he feigned nonchalance. "I’m guessing this must be really important then?" he mused, noticing the confused expressions on the faces of the ninjas before him. "Naturally, given the Hokage's busy schedule, any meeting he initiates is bound to be of utmost importance," the men responded, avoiding any unnecessary conversation.

Obito sighed, stepping outside and addressing the ninja with a hint of irritation, "Very well, let's not keep your precious Hokage waiting any longer," Despite his attempt to conceal his feelings, a tinge of bitterness laced his voice. He wasn't apprehensive or troubled; he was simply curious. After so long without exchanging words, what could be so important that the Hokage had summoned him in such haste? It was suspicious to him. Nonetheless, he followed the men closely, "Any idea why he would want to see me all of a sudden?" His question was met with pure silence. 

Obito walked quietly, his eyes taking in the changes that had swept over the village since his absence. New buildings had appeared, old shops had vanished, and even the places he used to visit with Kakashi and Rin were nowhere to be found. The realization of all he had missed out on weighed heavily on him. As the Hokage building loomed into view, he looked up at the window where he suspected Kakashi might be, feeling the weight of his gaze boring into him. Climbing the stairs and reaching the Hokage's door, the ninja escorting him left him there all by himself.

Obito's eyes closed for a moment as he readied himself for the impending encounter. With a firm pull, he opened the door, his gaze falling upon the silver-haired man who stood by the window, engrossed in thought and clutching a stack of paperwork. Something within Obito stirred the moment his gaze fixated upon that white Hokage robe that Kakashi wore, a pang of realization hitting him. Kakashi was living the dream that Obito had envisioned for himself, or at least what his dreams had been before life took unexpected turns. Turns he took by his own resolve. 

Obito stood there, his voice carrying a hint of statement rather than question. "You called for me," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, causing Kakashi to turn his attention towards him. With a deliberate motion, Kakashi set the papers he held onto his desk before sliding into his seat and replying, “Yes, we need to talk,”

Obito crossed his arms defiantly and stood a few feet away from Kakashi's desk, the silence between them weighed down by his sardonic tone. "Well I assumed so," he replied, his sarcasm hanging heavily in the air. "I suppose you didn’t just summon me here to jump rope," there was a moment of silence once he spoke, Kakashi’s eyes burning into him. 

"I'd appreciate it if you could reserve your sarcasm for a later occasion." Kakashi responded with a weary sigh, his annoyance evident as he spoke. Frustration was etched on his face, a clear indication of the stress and irritation he was experiencing. 

Obito uncrossed his arms in a display of carelessness, his gaze shifting away from Kakashi. “Yeah, whatever,” There was a moment of impatient silence as he waited for Kakashi to speak, fidgeting and shuffling on his feet expectantly.

Kakashi paused briefly, his gaze skimming over several reports scattered on his desk. With a glance raised towards Obito, his eyes met his, "As I was saying," he continued, "I've observed that your interactions with (Y/N) have yielded positive results. Her reports on you have been consistently favorable, and your acts of kindness towards others in the village haven't gone unnoticed." He paused once more, briefly glancing back down at the reports before returning his gaze to Obito.

It was remarkable how much the human body could endure, Kakashi thought to himself. Obito’s own body bore testament to that—scarred, battered, and permanently marked from the aftermath of war. Tsunade, in her medical prowess, had managed to restore parts of his body using his own cells, but the scars that had ingrained themselves on his skin stayed, indomitable, a constant reminder of his battles.

Obito's gaze traveled from the bookshelf to Kakashi, his stomach flipping at the revelation that you had been speaking highly of him. It filled him with a sense of satisfaction, knowing that his efforts had not gone unnoticed. Despite his own self-doubt, the knowledge that you found improvement within him gave him a sense of validation and contentment.

Kakashi's tone turned more serious as he continued, "Based on (Y/N)'s reports and my trust in her words, I've decided to offer you a position within the Anbu. You'll work under my direct supervision," he stated, his gaze remaining steady, anticipating a look of surprise on Obito's face.

Just as stated, Obito's expression twisted into a bewildered frown as the words left Kakashi's mouth. "You must be joking," he exclaimed, his disbelief evident. He was aware of his own capabilities, but the suddenness of this offer left him taken aback. The idea seemed ludicrous, especially since some within the village still harbored distrust towards him. Was Kakashi truly expecting him to become his personal assassin?

"You want me to become one of your assassin dogs?" He let out scoff, disbelief evident in his tone. "I thought the purpose of rehabilitating me was to prevent me from harming anyone else, given what I've already done," He paused, his expression filled with skepticism.

Kakashi leaned back in his chair, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. He observed Obito intently, "Yes," he acknowledged, "But I've had a change of mind. You possess the potential for greatness," he said, a hint of conviction in his voice. He paused for a moment before continuing, "It might even be beneficial for you. It'll keep you occupied, you'll earn your own income, and you'll get to experience the life of a shinobi once again," Kakashi explained, his gaze never leaving Obito.

Obito stared at Kakashi in shock, trying to process his words before speaking again, “What are you trying to say?”

Kakashi's tone remained firm and authoritative as he clarified his words. "What I'm trying to say is that by joining the Anbu, you'll earn my trust and secure yourself a decent position within the village. To be clear, I'm not asking for your permission. It's not a request," he reiterated, emphasizing the gravity of his demand.

“Right, you’re demanding I join,” Obito’s lip curls up in a slight snarl.

"You're free to refuse my offer, of course," Kakashi said in a condescending tone. "But doing so will deem you untrustworthy," he continued, his gaze fixed on Obito. "Keep in mind that you're here because I allow it. You're not exactly in a position to say no to anything I propose," he affirmed.

Obito's eye widened momentarily as a bitter chuckle threatened to escape his lips. It was a stark reminder that he was at Kakashi's mercy, alive only because the Hokage allowed it. The feeling of being bound and controlled by someone else's authority was not something he had yet forgotten. With a forced smile, he finally responded, "Ah, how could I ever forget," his voice was dripping with sarcasm and resignation.

“Glad to know you wouldn’t,” Kakashi smiled beneath his mask, his eye forming a crescent moon shape in response to Obito's sarcastic remark. He pulled out a bag from under his desk, revealing a familiar grayish-black uniform neatly folded inside. With a steady hand, he placed it on top of the desk. Next, Kakashi pulled out another object, a pristine white porcelain mask, molded into the shape of a bird. Obito recognized it as an Anbu mask; he had seen them before, or rather, he had once worn one alongside Itachi. Yet, the eeriness of this particular mask sent a chill down his spine.

Instead of the usual frown associated with the animal masks, this one possessed a unique feature: the red lines that adorned it curved upwards into a sinister smile, stretching nearly from ear to ear. The expression seemed far from natural, as if it was designed for intimidation rather than mere concealment. Furthermore, there was only one eye hole, while the other side was veiled and painted red, where his left eye should have been.

"So, you've been planning this for a while," Obito remarked, his tone containing a hint of sarcasm. "I'm assuming you don't have a spare Anbu mask with only one eye hole," Obito observed, causing Kakashi to chuckle. "I suppose so,"

Obito accepted the mask and uniform, his gaze fixated on the plastic bag as if he was contemplating the decision. However, deep down, he knew he had no choice in the matter. As if to add to the already less-than-ideal news, Kakashi spoke up again, "With this new job, you'll have to move out of (Y/N)'s house." He paused before continuing, "No one can know your identity as an Anbu member. Only a select few will be privileged enough to be privy to that information, and (Y/N) will not be among them."

Obito started to open his mouth to protest, but was interrupted by Kakashi's silencing gesture, his words cutting him off before he could speak. "I've already found a nice apartment for you, temporarily," Kakashi informed him, "You'll move out of her house while she's on her mission. That gives you about two to three days, maybe four if things get complicated and they get delayed due to the bad weather." Obito stayed quiet, considering the situation, realizing the reality: he had little choice in the matter. To further solidify his point, Kakashi added a crucial detail, a small nudge that might persuade Obito to comply. Depending on how Obito perceived it, it could either be seen as a subtle manipulation or merely a necessary precaution. "And just to be clear," Kakashi began, his voice firm but not unkind. "The primary reason why you're moving out is to protect (Y/N). You've shown a clear concern for her well-being, and to ensure nothing happens to her, she must remain ignorant of your new role in the Anbu."

"And what does that have to do with me moving out?" Obito asked, his tone laced with hesitation. Kakashi chuckled at his question, "Think about it," he replied, his eyes fixed on the dark haired man. "If word gets out about your identity, and they learn you're living with a woman, she'll instantly become a prime target for other dangerous ninjas." He paused, shrugging his shoulders. "Unless, of course, you want her to end up as rogue ninja bait. Whatever case it is, I suggest you start packing."

Obito's frustration bubbled up inside him, his lips pressing tightly together. He shouldn't feel this way; after all, he was simply moving out. Yet, a pang of disappointment and unease tugged at his heart. He'd lived with you since he returned to the village, and there was no denying that you'd positively influenced him. Your presence had helped him transform in unforeseen ways. He felt comfortable with you, like an old friend. You didn't hold anything against him, only offering care and compassion.

With a resigned sigh, Obito accepted the situation. No point in arguing further. After all, it's not like he wouldn't get to see you anymore. Sure, maybe he'd be busy with his new Anbu duties, but there was no way he'd be swamped 24/7, right? "Fine, I'll move out and join your assassin club. It’s not like I haven’t killed thousands before anyway," he mutters, his arms tensing as he tries to quell the burning feeling in his chest. A nagging anxiety crept inside him, "Is there anything else you'd like to say before I leave?"

Kakashi's brows furrowed, "Just remember that my main intention is to safeguard the village," he said, his voice steady. "You have immense potential that shouldn't be wasted, so try not to hold these circumstances too deeply against me," he added, his expression almost complimentary. 

"Are you trying to flatter me?" Obito almost laughed in amusement, a hint of sarcasm lacing his voice. "You, of all people, dishing out compliments? I never saw that coming." He observed Kakashi's hands as they lowered to his lap with a cold stare, Kakashi's response following quickly, "Take it however you want. Ultimately, I'm making decisions that benefit the village. That's all that matters."

With a slight sense of defeat, Obito picked up the bag containing his new uniform. He couldn't help but let out a bitter chuckle as he held it in his hands. This wasn't the life he'd envisioned for himself as a child, nor was he thrilled to be stepping back into the role of an assassin. But the past couldn't be changed, and here he was. He finally tore his gaze away from the uniform and posed his question, "So, when do I start?"

“I’ll give you your first assignment once you’ve moved out. Come to my office and I’ll present to you your new comrades,”

It was the morning after the storm had passed, and the sky was clear and the sun shone brightly, almost as if there had been no storm the day before. Despite the sunlight, though, the path was still damp and muddy, causing Toko to grumble and complain again. Before leaving, the old lady had packed some meals, bandages, and medical herbs for you and the boys, insisting that you take them. "You don't have to—" you started to protest, only to be cut off by her firm and gentle nudge.

"Oh, hush now," she insisted, continuing to pack your belongings. She filled your bags with supplies, making sure you were well-prepared. "It never hurts to be prepared," she added with a smile. "You don't know when you might need them." As you prepared to set off, the old lady stood in the doorway and waved you a warm goodbye, her expression filled with motherly affection.

Toko waved enthusiastically, a wide grin on his face. "Bye, granny!" he exclaimed, eagerly walking behind you. "I like her," he continued, his voice filled with cheerfulness. "She's just like my grandma." Kenji, who seemed well-rested, walked beside Toko, his expression one of contentment. However, it was suddenly cut short when Toko continued his loud ramblings.

"Keep it down, will you? It's too early for this racket." Kenji grumbled, his tone weary. He shoved his hands into his pockets, obviously not quite fully awake yet. Toko was ready to respond, but your intervention cut him off. "Let's keep the squabbling to a minimum," you advised, peering at the map in your hands with a frown. "We're about to enter dangerous territory, so let's stay focused." You mention, furrowing your brows as you tried to make out the direction you were supposed to head towards. “There’s so many paths… but not a single one connects to the city…,”

Toko's curiosity got the better of him as he peeked over your shoulder, his head tilted to the side as his gaze darted across the map. Confusion etched on his face as he examined the symbols and drawings that adorned the scroll. "Why bother with a map if it won't even guide you to where you need to go?" he questioned, genuinely baffled.

"It's a hidden village, idiot," Kenji interrupted with an exasperated sigh. "If the village was easily found on a map, it would defeat the purpose of being 'hidden.'" He rolled his eyes, continuing his explanation. "They've been kind enough to give us a basic layout of where they are located, so it's better than having nothing at all." You added with a sigh.

Toko opened his mouth to retort, but you quickly hushed him, lowering the map and bringing the group to a halt. You had walked for a good amount of time, and the old lady's house had long vanished from sight. Time had passed faster than you realized, and now you stood before a colossal forest, its towering trees casting a shadowy canopy over the path ahead. As you observed the towering trees that loomed overhead, a nervous churning settled in your stomach. There was an inexplicable unease that gnawed at your senses, even though no foreign chakra presences threatened you at the moment. Perhaps it was the imposing shadows cast by the trees, or the dense mist that engulfed the forest, which left you feeling queasy. Whatever the cause, the feeling was becoming increasingly uncomfortable.

As you struggle with the inexplicable feeling, Toko's voice breaks the silence, tinged with concern. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder and asks, "Are you okay, sensei?" With a forced composure, you respond, "I'm fine, we have to go through here,” You take a deep breath, attempting to ease your tensed shoulders. "We should be cautious," you advise, your voice steady as you speak. "There's likely to be traps. We won't be able to see much inside either, so we need to focus." Your hand tightens around the straps of your bag, a comforting reassurance against the uncertainty that lies ahead. “If anything happens, leave your bags and evacuate. If you manage to split up, use paper bombs to find each other. If you can’t find me, leave me behind and forget the mission—,”

“You know we’re not going to do that, sensei,” Toko cuts you off with unwavering worry.

"It's not a request. This is an order. You will follow my instructions, understand?" Your eyes narrow as you address him. "You're both Chunin now, but don't overestimate yourselves. You have limits, and you need to know them." You take a moment to gather yourself, steadying your breath and grip on your kunai. Despite being well-rested, your body felt heavy, and a cloudiness lingered in your mind, despite your attempts to stay focused. "Let's move,"

As you journeyed deeper into the forest, the path became increasingly obscured, shrouded in a dense gray mist that blanketed the ground. Seeing no other option, you curse under your breath, peering up at the towering trees that seemed to stretch endlessly into the sky. "Dammit," you muttered. "Looks like I'll have to climb up there and see if we can find a way out of this forest." With a decisive movement, you buckled your bag tightly on your back, ensuring it was secure before preparing to scale the trees. “I’ll be quick, so you two stay where you are,”

Toko adjusted the straps of his bag, nodding earnestly in agreement. "No worries, sensei," he chimed in, his eyes fixed on you with a confident smile. "We'll keep a watchful eye out for anything suspicious." With a silent understanding between them, Kenji bobbed his head in agreement. The boys had observed your uneasiness since leaving Konoha, and they were trying to ease it. A glimmer of relief washed over you as their reassurance eased the tension in your shoulders, even if just momentarily. You centered your chakra in your feet, preparing to scale the towering trees before you. Sensing that reaching the top of the trees would take you at least five minutes, you mentally steeled yourself to be as swift and efficient as possible.

Despite your best efforts to maintain focus, the unsettling feeling in your stomach persisted, growing more intense with every passing moment. Not being a sensory ninja, you questioned the source of this unease, attributing it to your stress. Was it the conversation that you had with the lady back at the cabin that was making you nervous? Or maybe you were becoming paranoid with each passing second thanks to this mission. As you immerse yourself in your thoughts, your footing falters, and your foot slips on the bark of the tree. You would’ve fallen down, but thankfully your chakra was strong enough to maintain your weight. However, the extra weight of your bag pulled you downward, and a sense of panic surged through you. In a desperate attempt to regain balance, you hastily let your bag fall off your shoulders as you propelled yourself forward, managing to regain your position on the tree trunk once more. The unexpected scare left you panting, your breath coming in ragged gasps. A cold sweat trickled down your forehead as adrenaline coursed through your burning veins. That was a close one, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself out. There was a slight delay, and then the loud thump of your bag hitting the ground echoed through the air, reverberating through the forest.

Craning your neck to look over your shoulder, your eyes widened as the dense mist obscured any view of the ground below. The realization of your position set in, and the thought of plummeting headfirst down to that unseen abyss sent a shiver down your spine. "What the hell is wrong with me?" you muttered under your breath, swallowing the lump of saliva that had accumulated in your mouth. A pang of worry laced your thoughts as you hoped the boys wouldn't panic upon seeing your bag fall.

Climbing the rest of the way up with a moment of hesitation, you finally reached the top of the tree. As you placed your foot on top, a soothing breeze greeted your face, caressing your nose and playfully tousling your hair. The view was breathtaking, a vast expanse of trees stretching as far as the eye could see. Amidst this forest kingdom, your gaze snagged on something significant. "There you are," you murmured as you spotted what you had been searching for.

Toko and Kenji waited anxiously, their backs resting against the trees as they watched you vanish into the distance. After a few minutes, Toko's restlessness got the better of him, and he started fidgeting with his gloves, stealing glances upwards in search of your descent. He turned to face Kenji, who was immersed in his book, and voiced his concern, "Do you think she's alright?"

"She might take a while," Kenji responded calmly, casting a brief glance upwards before returning his attention to his book. "This isn't exactly a small forest. Stop worrying so much." He paused for effect, then added, "It's only been about five minutes, anyway."

Toko let out a sigh, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, maybe I’m worrying too much." He sat down cross-legged on the ground, leaning back on his arms. A lighthearted chuckle escaped his lips as he continued, "I have no idea how you—," His sentence was interrupted by the abrupt sound of something hitting the ground beside them. The unexpected thump caused Toko to jump, his senses alarmed. In a swift motion, Kenji had already tucked away his book and drew his kunai, ready for whatever lay ahead.

Kenji turned to Toko, concern etched on his face, "Toko, you okay?" He asked, searching their surroundings for the source of the sound. Their minds raced with paranoia, convinced that they were being followed and watched. Toko patted himself down, readying his own weapons as he replied, "Yeah, I'm good." Together, they carefully approached the direction they thought the sound had originated from, weapons ready, prepared for whatever danger might await them.

They came to an abrupt halt as they reached the spot and laid eyes on the heavy bag, its contents scattered on the ground. "It's Sensei's bag," Toko exclaimed, lowering his shuriken and rushing toward it.

"She dropped it?" Kenji muttered, his gaze darting skyward in the hopes of seeing you descending from the treetop. However, Toko was unconvinced. "Dropped? That doesn't make sense. Something must have happened," he says, already retracing his steps towards the tree you had initially climbed. Dropping his own bag, he prepared to ascend the tree so he could look for you. 

"She probably dropped it because of its weight," Kenji reasoned, attempting to calm Toko's growing concern, "Maybe it was weighing her down the farther she went." He grabbed Toko's arm and pulled him away from the tree, "Let's wait a little longer. She told us to wait."

"We can't wait!" Toko protested, his voice filled with urgency. "What if someone got to her up there?"

"Then we would have seen her body dropping. Toko, there are so many other reasons why she would have dropped her bag. You're being dramatic." He attempted to reason, only to have his hand slapped away by Toko.

"Dramatic? No, I'm concerned for her safety!"  he retorted, frustration evident in his voice. "You're the one who doesn't seem to care! You never care about anything!" He jabbed an accusing finger at Kenji, his tone laced with anger. Frustration ignited within Kenji as he clicked his tongue at the harsh accusations coming from his friend, "Of course I care, but I also use common sense."

"Common sense my ass," Toko snapped, "You're the last one to talk about common sense." The shift in Toko's tone was familiar territory for Kenji. The implications of his words were clear, a biting jab at something they both knew very well.

"Don't you dare bring that up," Toko warned, his voice a low, sharp hiss. Both of them knew exactly where the conversation was heading, a topic that had been avoided for a long time, but the memories and feelings still lingered fresh in their minds.

“You know exactly what happened, so stop blaming me for everything,” he snarls at his friend, obviously bothered by the matter.

“I blame you because you were stubborn. You think you’re the smartest, strongest ninja out here, and that’s why she died,” Toko argued, turning around to face him fully.

“I didn’t think any of that. You were a coward and you stepped back. We needed that mission more—”

"What we needed was to go back and get help!" Toko’s voice escalated into a yell, frustration reaching a boiling point as he pushed at Kenji. "Don't you dare put your hands on me," Kenji shot back, his own frustration rising. But Toko, fueled by anger and past memories, paid no heed to his warning.

"You left us behind and went on your own, just because you thought you could do anything without us," Toko seethed, grabbing Kenji by the collar. "I would've left, but she was worried for you.” His voice trembled with anger and grief. "And we went back. And she died because you couldn't let go of your pride and forget the mission," the words hung heavy in the air, their impact as potent as a physical blow. That’s why Kenji didn’t think about his actions. He couldn’t, not when he was being accused of something so serious.

Toko's body connected with the ground, his cheek inflamed and stinging from the impact. He looked up to see Kenji towering over him, fist clenched tight. "You bastard," Toko spat, pushing himself up off the ground with a surge of anger. He lunged forward, tackling Kenji to the ground, and his fist shot forward, aiming for his friend's face. However, Kenji was quick to react, pushing Toko off and pulling out a kunai in the blink of an eye.

The situation escalated, and the sight of the drawn weapon and the intent to harm each other fueled the conflict. Toko saw it as a direct threat to his life, and drew his own kunai. They both launched forwards with only one intent in mind; to hurt each other. However, as the two boys were about to clash, a pair of strong hands intervened, seizing their wrists and squeezing them hard enough to make them release their weapons in a swift motion.

Your voice echoed through the clearing, filled with disbelief and anger. "What the hell is wrong with you two, huh? What were you thinkin?!" You shoved them away, making them stumble onto the dirt. Your eyes darted between them, their heads lowered in shame, attempting to avoid your piercing glare. "You guys never turn on each other, do you understand me?!" The anger in your tone was evident, a boiling cauldron of frustration and disappointment at what they were doing. Your hurt and disappointment were palpable as the memories of your past resurfaced. The uneasy sense of déjà vu weighed heavily on your heart. After receiving no response from them, you spoke again, your voice firm and demanding, "I asked you something, so you better answer me!"

"Yes ma’am," Kenji responded, his voice obedient yet filled with tension. He stood up, grabbing his arm as his head remained bowed. Toko's response came next, the venom in his eyes directed at Kenji. "Whatever," he responded bitterly, wiping the blood that dripped from his nose. His gaze never wavered, filled with a potent mix of hatred, anger, and spite. Your hands came up to rub your face, attempting to ease the headache that formed. "I taught you to never betray each other. I hope this is the first and last time you two ever pull out your weapons on each other,”

"Maybe he should learn to keep his hands to himself." Toko retaliated, but your head whipped around, your eyes locking onto his. "And maybe you should learn how to forgive," you retorted, the words cutting through the air like a sharp blade. "I heard your argument, I know what this is about. I heard everything as I was coming down. Her death was no one’s fault" Your eyes trailed down his face, watching as his expression twisted in pain. "It doesn't seem that way," he finally said, grabbing his bag and harsly pushing past Kenji, who was still staring at the ground.

Kenji's hands were clenched tight, his fingernails digging into his skin and his knuckles turning a pale white. You could sense the tension in his body, recognizing the need for a conversation on this matter. You knew deep down that the underlying issues had to be addressed once you returned home. All of you had been avoiding it ever since it happened, and you couldn’t help but blame yourself for it. However, there was still a mission waiting to be completed, and you would have to push aside the issue once more.

“We’ll speak about this when we get back, for now, just focus on the mission,” you say, grabbing the kunais that were on the ground, “I found out where we have to go,”

The trek towards the destination proceeded awkwardly, each step taken in complete silence. The atmosphere was thick with tension, making it feel nearly impossible to breathe. Hours ticked by without a word being uttered between any of you, none of you sure of what to say. It was then that you settled on waiting until you reached the village to address the situation. You felt it was best to hold off on any conversations until you were in the safety and comfort of your own home, knowing the pressure on them would only grow if you brought it up now. Your sole focus was on the mission at hand. As long as you kept your mind free from any distractions, everything would go smoothly. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself in hopes of managing your anxiety. You observed the boys walking alongside you, their eyes avoiding each other like magnets repelling the same pole. They seemed immersed in their own thoughts, perhaps consumed by anger and regret. The scene reminded you of Obito and Kakashi, and your heart ached slightly as the memory of your friends surfaced once again.You had made a silent promise to yourself that your students would never turn against each other like Obito did to Kakashi. Yet, the events that had just unfolded had planted seeds of doubt in your mind about what the future held in store for them. The thought of your students becoming ensnared in a cycle of hatred filled you with dread and fear.

Your body felt weighed down once again, but not due to the muddy terrain. This time, it was the weight of worry that was resting on your shoulders. It was as if you were being physically held back by the embodiment of anxiety. Yet, despite the weight, you also inexplicably felt a sense of lightness. The suppressed emotions you harbored were taking a toll on your physical self, causing you to silently curse at your own vulnerability. As their teacher and mentor, you were meant to inspire them to forge forward. You were supposed to set an example, yet here you were, feeling crushed beneath the weight of your own worries. Doubts clawed at you, making you question if you were truly fit to be their sensei. You were acutely aware of your previous failures, of your imperfections. Now, you found yourself failing them yet again, berating yourself for not taking action when you could have. You should have addressed the incident and spoken to them, but you held your tongue. The unresolved tensions and bottled-up emotions continued to fester between your students while you tried avoiding ever mentioning anything. Your eyes remained fixated on the path, and your legs moved mechanically, even though you were unaware of your surroundings. It was as if you were caught in a trance, your mind stuck in deep reflections while your body went through the motions. It wasn’t until the giant gates of the Hidden Mist Village emerged before your eyes that you finally snapped out of your contemplative daze. The guards stood vigilantly at the gates, their masked faces intently focused on you and your students. Their weapons were raised in anticipation, their gaze unwavering. It was only then, as their intense stares met your eyes, that your body snapped back into reality. The haze of your thoughts lifted, and your mind cleared, becoming acutely aware of the moment.

Your arms slowly raised, palms facing the guards to signal that you meant no harm. Your feet remained firmly planted on the ground as you addressed the guards with a firm tone. "We're from the Hidden Leaf Village," you explained, "We were called for an important mission. We've heard reports of rogue ninjas terrorizing your village. We're here to assist your people." Your voice was crisp and precise, making your purpose abundantly clear. "Please," you reiterated firmly, "If you need more information, let me approach so I can present the mission scroll." The guards exchanged glances again, before one of them finally stepped forward. It was the captain, you assumed, and his hand reached out, silently asking for the mission scroll.

Without wasting another moment, you reached into your pouch, quickly retrieving the scroll and placing it in the waiting hand of the captain. You waited patiently as he perused the scroll, making sure that you posed no threat to them. Your eyes darted back to Toko and Kenji, who stood behind you, their heads downcast and avoiding eye contact.

"You may come through. We have been waiting for your arrival." With a deep voice, the captain’s words reverberated through the air. He then gestured for you to follow, leading the way into the village. Initially, you didn't notice how empty the streets were, until you walked past a nearby hospital. The sight of numerous civilians lying pale and ill on the floor caught your attention in an instant, and the scene unfolding before you was nothing short of horrific. Nurses were overwhelmed, tending to the massive number of ill patients who had filled the entire hospital and were now flooding the streets. The people lying on the floor appeared deathly ill, their bodies wasting away as the nurses fought desperately to keep them alive. The sight was eerie and heart-wrenching, sending chills down your spine. However, you found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from the patients, which didn’t go unnoticed by the captain.

"They're all dying," the guard stated matter-of-factly, his gaze fixed forward as if refusing to acknowledge the suffering of the people around him. "All because of poison," he added with a callousness that sent a chill down your spine. Your eyes then fell upon an elderly man who was writhing in agony, his leg profusely bleeding and contorting in ways that defied the limits of the human body. He was wounded, a large gash the shape of a large blade tainted his weak leg. His wound appeared to be decaying, yet fresh blood continued to flow from it, a stark contrast to the slow decay. As your eyes locked with the elderly man's pleading gaze, he muttered a desperate "help us" before you averted your eyes and shut them tightly. Your body trembled at the sight, the suffering of the people weighing heavily on your heart. "And there's no cure for it," the captain’s words echoed in your mind, causing your eyes to open in disbelief. Slowly, you walked past the hospital, your senses still reeling from the stark reality you had just witnessed. A few people could be seen making their way towards the hospital, but beyond that, the village seemed eerily deserted once more.

“No cure? Then all those people….”

The captain's voice was raw and frustrated as he clenched his spear tightly, “All my people will die in vain,” he exclaimed, his anger noticeable. "We've always dealt with similar cases, but after being repeatedly attacked by those damn rogue ninjas, the number of incidents has tripled over the past few months. I can feel it in my bones – they're to blame for this, but I can't prove it, because we’ve never caught them" the captain continued, the helplessness in his tone was obvious.

With furrowed brows, you looked at the captain, "Do you have any information on them?". It was difficult for you to fathom how anyone could be so cruel as to slowly torment and kill an entire village of innocent people.

The captain exhaled a deep sigh, his expression heavy with disappointment, "I wish I had something of value to tell you, but the truth is, I don't," He paused, his voice carrying a sense of helplessness, "We've only spotted cloaked figures breaking in and harming innocent civilians, and anyone wounded in those attacks always end up the same – poisoned and rotting." Frustration tinged his voice as he continued, "We don't know where they come from or why they're doing this. We don't even know how they create that poison they use." You understood how he felt—you understood the helplessness of not being able to protect someone, in his case, everyone.

"I appreciate that information, sir. In situations like this, any information is helpful. Rest assured, we will do our utmost to protect your people. The safety of your village is our top priority." The captain didn't meet your gaze as you spoke, and you could sense his struggle to believe it. Given the countless lives lost, it was almost impossible for him to harbor hope that the nightmare would end. Toko and Kenji stood beside you, their faces betraying a mix of horror and sympathy for the village. Toko, in particular, fidgeted nervously, his uneasiness evident. The weight of the situation was becoming more real and pressing with every passing moment.

"It'll be alright, Toko," you offered a faint smile, trying to provide reassurance. Meanwhile, the captain continued his instructions. "Make sure you avoid getting hit by their weapons. From what the doctors have reported, every patient who’s ended up in the hospital has been stabbed or cut by those ninjas. It seems they carry poisoned knives of some kind. If they even scratch you, you'll find yourself dead," he warned gravely. You couldn't quite determine if the captain's intentions were to scare you or if he was genuinely worried for your safety, but regardless, you nodded in response. "We will be careful,"

The captain led you to the highest point in the village, situated atop a hill on the outskirts. This vantage point would serve as your watchtower for the remainder of the day, with an unobstructed view of the entire town below. You knew you had to remain vigilant, ready to take action at the first sign of trouble. With a resolve to put an end to the suffering of the villagers, you silently vowed to complete your mission as efficiently as possible.

"You will stay here. This vantage point offers a perfect view of the village. I wish you the best of luck, to all three of you. May you emerge victorious and save our people." The man then bowed his head in respect, but you caught a glimpse of his eyes beneath his mask. They were dark, as if the light of hope had been extinguished from within them. He had witnessed the grim reality of the situation time and time again, and his eyes seemed to convey the belief that at least some of you would not survive this ordeal. Countless Jonin from other villages had faced the same grim outcome. They had come, fought valiantly, yet ultimately succumbed to their fate. The captain's eyes reflected the weight of past failures, and yet, within him, there lingered a faint hope—a slender thread of fate that perhaps you and your students would defy the odds and succeed. He desperately yearned for it, hoping that you would put an end to the suffering that had ravaged his village.

You observed as the captain descended the hill, your face contorted in a frown. The pain and despair you had glimpsed in his eyes continued to haunt your thoughts, making it difficult to fully focus on anything else. It wasn't until the captain was completely out of sight that your mind finally caught up, and you turned your attention towards the boys, who had already taken a seat on the ground, their gazes wandering around the barren hill that offered nothing but patches of grass and a few scattered rocks. They were still silent, and you quickly noticed the somber expression on Toko's face and attempted to provide reassurance. "We'll help them," you stated firmly, placing all the bags together and double-checking your weapons to ensure you were ready for any situation. "And we'll be okay,"

"Even if we capture those ninjas, what will happen to all those people who are already poisoned?" Toko, who had not spoken a single word during your time here, finally spoke. His voice trembled, void of the earlier excitement that had filled his words before. Your gaze shifted towards the village, taking in the unsettling sight of deserted streets—a haunting portrayal of the misery and despair that had ensnared these people.

"They'll die. There's nothing we can do for them except avenge them. They will die in peace, knowing that no one else will get hurt." There was no room for debate or argument. Toko accepted your words without protest, a clear indication that the emotional toll of the events had left him exhausted. Kenji sat quietly nearby, leaned against a rock, listening intently to your exchange. In a rare display of positivity, Kenji spoke up, "Maybe our medical ninjas can find a cure for them," His words stood in stark contrast to his usual stoicism and pessimism, and you couldn't help but appreciate the glimmer of optimism. However, Toko's frown remained unchanged, and he paid no heed to Kenji's statement.

"Maybe so, Kenji," you replied with a faint smile, slowly standing up to keep watch. Silence blanketed the area once more as the sun slowly dipped below the horizon, transforming the city into a canvas illuminated by the street lamps. The translucent mist began to form, casting an eerily beautiful yet ominous veil over the surroundings. Minutes turned into hours as you, Toko, and Kenji took turns observing the village, looking for any signs of unusual activity in the silent and deserted town. The sky was obscured by thick gray clouds, concealing the moon's silvery glow and blocking any natural light from filtering through. The temperature had dropped significantly as well, and you had been shuddering all night long, your cheeks reddened from the biting cold. From the corner of your eye, you could see Toko and Kenji also shivering, the winter chill seeping into their bones and making them restless.

"You boys okay?" Your aching feet, throbbing from standing for so long and prompted you to speak up as your voice echoed through the silent night. The idea of standing for the entire night seemed both physically draining and unnecessary, considering the uncertainty of whether the rogue ninjas would even make an appearance tonight. Who knew if they would even show up? Doubt began creeping into your mind as you considered the slim chances of any action occurring in the next few hours.

“I’m fine,” Kenji answers, his head body leaned against an uncomfortable rock, “Just uncomfortable,”

 "You're not supposed to feel comfortable," Toko retorted, finally speaking to Kenji after hours of icy silence. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood, relax," Kenji responded with a frustrated huff, his body straightening up as he shot a glare at Toko, who sat a few feet away from him. “Funny, you never try to lighten the mood but now you’re suddenly caring if it’s tense or not,”

“Boys, stop it,” you warn before things got heated, “It’s not the time or place to argue,” 

“Oh please, when is it ever the time or place?” Your eyes widen at the sudden hostility towards you, making Kenji stand up to your defense. “Don’t talk to her like that, asshole,” he warns, his voice dripping with a venom you had never heard before as he made his way towards Toko in a threatening manner, “Or what? You’re going to hit me again?”

“Stop it you two!” you exclaimed, quickly standing up and forcefully pushing them apart, “You need to stop this bullshit, or else all three of us will go down. Is that what you want? You want to put us in danger?” your voice was stern and authoritative, trying to paint a clear message for the both of them. Your eyes flicker back and forth between them, searching for at least an ounce of shame on both their faces. However, Toko simply let out a loud scoff, backing away while his eyes sent a scorching glare at Kenji. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he turned on us,” he accused, his expression turning bitter once Kenji’s body tensed. “What the hell is your problem? I’m suddenly the bad guy here?”

“You always were,”

Their argument was about to continue despite all your attempts to alleviate the situation, but the sudden sharp and horrific scream of a woman that pierced through the cold and silent night caught you off guard. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up when the scream echoed through the night, and the boys were quick to gather at the edge of the hill beside you. Your eyes scanned the darkened town, searching for an explanation or a culprit, catching a glimpse of four cloaked figures jumping out of one of the townsfolk’s windows. Their backs were adorned with toll rods, a knife at the end of each one gleaming ominously in the shadows below. You assumed it was their weapons as one was tainted crimson red—Blood. “It’s them,” your voice hardened, and without any hesitation, you jumped down from the hill, your students quickly following behind you. Your presence had been figured by the ninjas as they immediately split up and darted in different directions. Instead of attacking you, they decided to avoid you, as if their attention was focused on something else. Something more important. “Alright,” you stop your tracks on top of one of the rooftops, memorizing the directions the ninja went, “We’ll go for the one up north first—,”

“I’ll go for the one on the right,” Toko exclaims in impulsive haste, giving you no time to react nor respond as he sprinted into the deep night. Anger bubbled up in your chest, making you curse, “Dammit! Toko! Come back here!” you called out, but he was already out of sight. “Shit, go after him Kenji, I’ll take care of the other two. Don’t get cut. Be careful,” the boy nods his head, muttering a soft “You too,” before vanishing into the shadows, leaving you all by yourself. You shook your worries away and began jumping over the rooftops towards the direction two of the ninjas had gone, and thankfully, they hadn’t gotten too far. They had soon made their way into your line of vision, and you swiftly followed behind them. They were under you, running through the paths of the village as you followed on the rooftops.

They were faster than you expected, and your breath came out as ragged gasps as you sprinted after them. There was no way you were going to catch them like this. They knew the village. They knew where to run to. They knew every corner and curve, as if they had done this thousands of times. “Shit,” you cursed under your breath, continuing to jump from roof to roof as you followed both cloaked figures. As you followed them, you reached for the pouch on your vest, pulling out a few paper bombs. ‘You’ve got this,’ you reassure yourself as you gain enough speed to jump down on top of one the figures. Your fingers swiftly stick the bombs onto its back, and you push yourself off and away from it. The cloaked figure reacted instantaneously, reaching for its weapon and swiftly swinging it at you, the knife-tipped rod a deadly threat. You felt the slightest brush of air as the weapon narrowly missed you, just barely avoiding a serious cut. Before the blade could do any harm, the paper bomb detonated, sparing you from injury. The ensuing blast sent you staggering backward, your feet struggling to maintain balance in the aftermath. As the smoke dispersed, you surveyed the scene, expecting to find the slumped body of the rogue ninja. However, to your surprise, nothing remained except an empty spot. Has it been a clone all this time?

‘Crack’

A wave of shock flashed across your face, your reflexes pushing you backwards just in time to avoid the figure that plummeted onto the spot you had recently occupied. Once again, the weapon-wielding figure narrowly missed you, your luck holding strong, "Who the hell are you, and why are you doing this?" Spinning the kunai skillfully around your finger, you clenched the handle tightly as you waited for an answer. 

The mysterious figure stood mute, shaking its head as it spoke in a low, distorted voice. "Stay out of my way, and you shall not get hurt," it warned. Confusion gripped you, as you found yourself unable to determine the figure's gender from their concealed features. As you scrutinized more closely, you glimpsed what appeared to be a mask under the expanse of their large straw hat, further obscuring their identity.

Your determined eyes locked onto the mysterious figure, "I'm not letting you guys terrorize this village any longer," you hissed. As your mind briefly wondered about the whereabouts of the second figure, you remained vigilant, refusing to let your guard drop. "You have no idea what this village has done," it pauses for a brief moment. "Please, just be on your way. You have nothing to do with this. I do not want to hurt you, but if you get in my way, you will end up just like them." It trained its weapon on you. “I am sparing you and the young men, leave, or seal your fate this very moment,”

“I don’t need your mercy,” you glare at him and take out your shuriken, “I’m not letting you kill these people,”

"Then you shall die like the rest of them," suddenly, the second figure reappeared, delivering a powerful kick to your abdomen, sending you sprawling against the wall. Your head hit the bricks and snapped back, leaving you unconscious for a few fleeting seconds. As you slowly regained yourself, your eyes snapped open just in time to avoid another attack. With a well-aimed kick, you connected solidly with the figure's head, causing it to stumble as it tried to extract its weapon from the ground. Without hesitating, you took its own weapon and jammed it into its stomach, making sure the blade pierced its muscle deeply. However, as you gripped the handle tightly and pushed it even further, the figure turned into some sort of liquid that melted away under your feet. “A clone?!”

As you glanced back, your confusion grew as the person you had been speaking to appeared a few feet away from you, now charging towards you with an additional rod in hand. The blade swung past you multiple times, trimming some stray strands of hair caught in its path. You swiftly dodged and ducked, sweeping your leg across the ground to knock its legs out from under it. It briefly stumbled but quickly caught itself, and before you could react, it attempted to swing its weapon at you once more.

With lightning reflexes, you grabbed the rod, yanking it toward you as you discarded your previous weapon. A firm kick to its stomach sent it stumbling backwards. As the rod slipped from its hands, you firmly held onto it, a hint of superiority in your voice. "You're nothing without your weapon, aren't you?" you taunted, hurling it to the side, out of reach for both of you along with the other.

"You have no idea what you are doing," it said, rising from the ground. It locked your wrist in a firm grip, and you fought for control. "You think you are doing good, but you are only defending horrible people," it continued, its strength surprising you as it began to push your arms downwards. "Everything you do now will be in vain," it taunted. "They will die, and so will you." With immense strength, you managed to break free, swinging your kunai at its neck. To your surprise, it lifted his hand, allowing the blade to pierce through its palm with no reaction.

"Your students will perish because of your decisions," it sneered. "You could have turned away from all of this, yet you chose to blindly follow your foolish orders," it continued. A powerful kick to your stomach sent you stumbling to your knees, a pained groan escaping your lips. Your arms instinctively wrapped around your aching stomach as you struggled to catch your breath.

The figure unflinchingly removed the kunai from its wounded palm, its expression remaining stoic despite the blood trickling out. Its words hung in the air, a mix of nonsense and malice, as you gazed up at it, your teeth clenched together. "But, I must admit," it continued, "you will die with honor. I admire that." With deliberate strides, it approached you, firmly grasping your weapon in its hands. "This is your end," Its ominous words trailed off as it prepared to deliver a final blow. You were about to dodge, but the sudden intervention of another figure caught you off guard. 

Toko lunged at the figure with lightning-fast precision, tackling it to the ground. Moments later, Kenji rushed into view, his voice filled with concern as he called out to you in worry, "Sensei!" He hurried to your side, helping you up and diligently checking your body for any injuries. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, his gaze scrutinizing every inch of your frame in search of any signs of harm. "I'm okay," you responded, wincing as a sharp pain radiated from your stomach. “We fought those two ninjas, but both of them were clones,” he says and looks at Toko who jumped back towards you after tackling the figure, “I’m assuming that guy is the real deal,”

“Yeah, they haven’t used up much chakra, and they only used clones,” you hiss, “But we can’t let them escape,”

"You think I'll let him escape? I've had enough of this damn mission to let that happen." Toko sneered as he was about to dash back at the figure when you intervened, stopping him. "Wait, we need to work together," you urged. "I fought with them, and I barely got any information of what they can do, so we have no idea what they’re capable of." Your arm halted his advance, but it didn't deter his anger. "So what?" he snapped, shoving your arm away. "He's on the floor. Let's get the job done." He sprints towards the figure, pulling out his blade to finish it off.

"Toko!" you yelled, your voice strained with the effort, your lungs burning in protest. Before Toko could get any closer, you noticed the figure slyly retrieve the kunai it had taken from you, hidden beneath its form to secretly attack Toko. "Toko, get out of the way!" you warned urgently. With a swift movement, you pushed Kenji safely away from you and dashed toward your other student, just in time to shove him out of the path of the incoming blade. Kenji's quick thinking resulted in the figure being entrapped in an earth style jutsu, the ground surrounding him turning solid and trapping him in place.

Toko’s eyes were wide, and for the first time during the whole night, he seemed to snap back into reality. “Shit, sensei—,”

"I’m fine," you reassured as you glanced between Kenji and the now immobilized figure. You took a step towards it, your voice firm as you declared, "You're done." With a swift motion, you pulled the straw hat and mask off its face, revealing the true identity beneath. To your surprise, the person behind the mask was a young man, no older than your students. A wave of realization washed over you, causing your stomach to drop. This person was so young...

The young man, having shed his disguise, locked his pale eyes with yours, his voice carrying a note of resignation. "You should have stayed back," he told you. "She will have it her way, no matter what it takes," he continued, his gaze drifting towards the approaching town guards. The captain, who had previously assisted you, appeared beside you, his voice filled with surprise as he spoke. "You did it," he exclaimed, "You actually caught him..."

A nagging sense of wrongness crept over you as you observed the situation. It all felt too easy. How could this young man, this seemingly helpless individual, have defeated other jonin from various villages? How could he be solely responsible for the terrorizing of the village? Your supposed victory felt strangely hollow, as if the pieces of the puzzle didn't quite fit together. If this was the person responsible for the commotion, why hadn't he been apprehended earlier?

Your gaze lingered on the young man, observing as he silently accepted his fate, the guards quickly restraining him now that he was freed from the muddy trap, "Your reign of terror ends here." The captain exclaims, his masked face leaning towards the young man.

However, his words continued to echo in your mind, a sinister melody. "She will have it her way, no matter what it takes." Who he was referring to was unclear, and the possibility of there being another person behind the terrorizing acts only added to the mystery. Questions raced through your mind, but your body had finally caught up to the events of the day. The adrenaline wore off, and the sharp pain on your side became overwhelming, forcing you to close your eyes in pain. You glanced down at your vest, noticing the growing red spot on it. The wound was located right where the man had attacked you when you had selflessly pushed Toko away. Kenji, alarmed by your condition, quickly rushed to your side, concern etched on his face. "Sensei, you're hurt," he exclaimed, his voice filled with worry.

The guard's attention immediately shifted towards you as he registered your injury. "You're... hurt," he uttered, his voice filled with dread. "I'm so sorry," he apologized, but you shrugged it off, a hint of humor in your words, "Don't worry, he didn't stab me with his blade. He hurt me with my own weapon." His shoulders visibly relaxed as he exhaled, relieved to hear your reassurance. "I see," he finally responded. "I was worried for a moment. I wouldn't want our hero to suffer such a terrible fate." You could hear the smile on his face, “Thanks to all of you, we will finally live peacefully once more,”

Your students, ever humble, responded to the guard's gratitude with a sense of duty. "There's no need to thank us," Kenji explained, firmly supporting you from one side, "We're just doing our jobs." As the group moved along, Toko, who had been deep in thought, snapped out of his contemplation and quickly rushed to your side, firmly grasping your arm to provide additional support.

“Please, come to the hospital. Let us take care of your wound,” the captain offered, and you hesitantly agreed.

With the stitches in place and your injuries tended to, you finally made your way out of the village with a completed mission, guided by a sense of accomplishment yet plagued by an underlying dissatisfaction. The villagers cheered as you passed, celebrating your victory, but the lingering question of whether more of the perpetrators were still at large nagged at you. Despite the celebration, you couldn't shake off the feeling that the threat wasn't entirely neutralized. Nonetheless, you walked out the gates with your students, Toko and Kenji, both of them remaining quiet and tense but safe and sound.

Each step back felt like an eternity, your wounded body protesting with every movement you made. The pain radiated from your injury, making the journey seem considerably longer than it actually was. In a moment of misplaced stubbornness, you had refused to accept the offer of a full healing from the medical ninja who attended to you. Instead, you had insisted on merely receiving stitches and bandages, reasoning that there were patients who required the medics' attention more urgently than you did. As a result, you now found yourself regretting that decision, every step an agony.

As you kept walking, a sense of relief washed over you as you passed by the familiar cabin where you had once stayed at. There, the old lady, sitting on her porch, noticed you and instantly broke into a wide grin, eagerly waving at you in greeting.

Kenji and Toko both urged you to take a break, sensing your stubbornness but knowing you needed the rest. "We should stop here, Sensei," Kenji insisted, with Toko nodding in agreement as well. However, you protested, "I just want to get home as soon as possible." They were right, though. Your body was exhausted, and pushing yourself could lead to you collapsing before reaching your destination. With each step towards the cabin, time seemed to slow down, particularly for you as your injured side protested with every movement. Seeing your struggle, the old lady's expression immediately filled with worry as you approached her. "Oh, my dear..." The old lady quickly stood up upon noticing your uncomfortable demeanor and reached out to grasp your arms, gently guiding you inside the cabin. "Look at you, come, come," she said, her voice filled with maternal concern. "I will take care of you." Toko and Kenji followed closely behind, their concern matching hers.

Once you were inside, you chuckled apologetically, leaning heavily against the wall while clutching your wounded side. "We're sorry to bother you again," you said, wincing slightly. "I hoped you might have something for my pain?" The old lady, ever resourceful, began rummaging through her cabinets, and you watched as she took a jar filled with various herbs. "Of course," she replied, turning towards you. "But tell me, how did you get hurt?"

Your eyes carefully scanned the contents of the jar that the old lady had taken, before darting up to meet her gaze. "It was some rogue ninja," you explained, grimacing slightly. "Fortunately, he hurt me with my own weapon. Otherwise, I would’ve been poisoned," you continued, wincing as the pain flared. "But it still hurts like a bitch," you grumbled, shifting uncomfortably against the wall.

“I see,” she hums, pulling you towards the fireplace, “I’ll patch you up my dear, I have some soup ready too. I’ll pour you some after I take care of you,”

Toko's concern was evident as he glanced at your wounded side, his worry growing. "It's not bad, right?" he asked nervously. You attempted to soothe his concerns with reassurance, though your voice trembled slightly with pain. "It's just a small gash, Toko," you managed. The kind lady had already laid out a silk mat for you to rest on, and you gingerly laid down, wincing slightly as you did. The old lady then spoke up, shooing Toko and Kenji away. "How about you two boys start pouring the soups while I work on your teacher? Go, go,”

The old lady gently shooed Toko and Kenji away towards the kitchen, gesturing for them to go. You sighed, watching them leave as the lady began to tend to your wound, carefully removing your vest and lifting your shirt to reveal the injury. "Been a long day, hm?" she mused, her voice filled with warmth. As she poured some liquid onto the wound, you involuntarily hissed, the pain sharp and intense. “Yeah,” you managed to squeeze out. After a few moments of silence—and pure agony—your curiosity got the best of you.

You observed as the old lady skillfully mixed and crushed various herbs together, her expertise evident in her movements. "You seem to know a lot about medicine," you noted, your gaze fixed on her hands, "Yes, I was a medical nin back in the day," she replied, her smile warm and reminiscing. As she gently rubbed the herbs around your wound, you continued to observe her, intrigued by her past, "They even called me the 'miracle doctor,' but that's all just old news," she added, a hint of nostalgia in her voice.

Your eyes stayed fixed on her hands, watching intently as she poured more liquid onto your injury. "However, I barely have any chakra left to fully heal anyone anymore," she explained, her voice laced with a hint of regret. "I can only resort to medicine now," she continued, gently wrapping the bandages around your wound. Her words were interrupted by your suggestion, "Maybe you can help the people in the village," you proposed, your voice filled with hope. "You might have something that could help them, some sort of cure—,"

“Those people don’t want me, dear,” she shakes her head, “Trust me, I have tried,”

Your expression turned puzzled, "But why?" you asked, watching as she skillfully bandaged your stomach. "I was banished from my village, and am no longer welcomed," she replied, her voice steady and accepting. Once she finished, she handed you a bowl filled with a thick substance. "Here, drink this," she instructed. "It will help you with the pain." You obliged, lifting the bowl to your lips and taking a sip. The bitter liquid burned your throat as you swallowed, its thickness and heaviness leaving an unpleasant aftertaste. After swallowing the bitter liquid, you were left with a sour taste in your mouth, the experience far from enjoyable. Nevertheless, you mustered a grateful expression and thanked the old lady, though your face still showed signs of discomfort. "I don't understand," you finally voiced your confusion, turning your gaze towards her as she began organizing her medical supplies.

“It’s not for you to understand, dear,” she smiles, “Besides, I’ve come to term with it. I had a family and lived my life happily here. What more could I have asked for?” The smile that was plastered on her face was one of genuine happiness, and so you decided not to question any further.

After enjoying a meal and giving your body the rest it needed, you finally bid farewell to the old lady, expressing your gratitude for her assistance. She simply brushed off your thanks, insisting it was her duty to help those in need. As you waved goodbye and set off back towards the village, the journey seemed eerily similar to the one you had undertaken earlier. Although your wound had lost its initial stinging pain due to the medicine the old lady had given you, the trek back felt even longer and more arduous than before.

With your head feeling light and your body heavy, each step felt like a struggle. The only thought keeping you going was the idea of finally reaching the comfort of your own home. To your relief, the familiar gates of Konoha came into view, and you took the first step inside. A wave of relief washed over you, your smile growing bigger as you savored the feeling of being back in the safety of your village.

“Finally, back home,” you mumble, the boys stepping at each side of you, “Yeah,” Kenji sighed in relief as he uncrossed his arms, “You’ll… be going to the hospital?”

“I think I’ll go home and rest first,” you chuckle, rubbing your face tiredly, “I barely used any chakra but I feel like I did,”

"Then rest well. I'll see you later, sensei," Toko chimed in, his voice fading into the distance as he walked away. You couldn't help but frown as tension coiled in your stomach, a sense of dread settling over you as all your worries and unresolved issues assaulted you like a relentless wave. You exhaled deeply, turning to face Kenji, "Go home. You need to rest as well,”

“I barely did anything, you did all the work. All we did was stand by and watch,” he rubs his neck, “I’m sorry… if I acted out or anything like that,” he apologizes with a low head, “It’s never gotten this bad, ever,”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me,” you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, “We’ll work this out. The three of us. But right now, I’m more worried about our physical condition. Go home and take a break,” you smile, earning a nod from him. “I understand… see you around, sensei,” a small, yet gentle smile decorates his features, his feet guiding him away from you and towards his home.

Your exhaustion was evident as you rubbed your temple, letting out an exasperated sigh. "Right..." you murmured, your voice tinged with stress. "I need to file a report," you reminded yourself, recalling the formalities and paperwork needed to officially mark the mission as complete. Frustration and exhaustion weighed heavily upon you as you reluctantly began making your way towards the Hokage building, reluctant to face yet another task that stood between you and the sleep you longed for.

Every fiber of your being ached to collapse on the ground, and a familiar feeling of dizziness and disorientation washed over you once more. You couldn't understand why you felt so utterly exhausted, your annoyance growing with each passing second. This was a new level of tiredness, one you had never experienced before, not even during the traumatic days of war. The fatigue weighed heavily on you, and you found yourself becoming increasingly irritable as you struggled to push forward.

As you made your way across the bridge, your thoughts were abruptly interrupted as a familiar figure with silver hair caught your eye. A sense of curiosity washed over you, as you wondered why the man was there at all. You approached him, and as you drew closer, you noticed that he was standing near the river, gazing out at the water with a book in one hand and the other resting on the rail.

“Having fun, mister Hokage?” Your voice echoed and reached his ears, making him turn towards you and give you a welcoming smile. Not that you saw, you just assumed he smiled at the way his eyes formed a crescent.

“Ah, (Y/N), you’re finally back,” he greets, closing his book as he takes in your features, “Though, you seem a little worn out,”

“Well, the mission wasn’t exactly easy,” you cross your arms over your chest, “Not only that, but the boys also got into a crazy argument, I’ve got a lot on my plate,” you close your eyes and furrow your brows, “It’s never ending,”

“Ah, I’m sorry to hear that,” he says sincerely, “Don’t be. Anyways, what’s the oh-so-busy Hokage doing walking around the village reading?” You raise your brow at him, tilting your head slightly before clearing your throat. Your hand flies up and grips the bridge’s rail, feeling a little weak in the knees. “Just admiring the day. It’s about time I took a little walk and got out of that office,” he chuckles, looking at your face for a reaction before he suddenly becomes concerned.

“(Y/N)?” Your name escaped the man's lips as he noticed you leaning against the rail, your body visibly struggling to stay upright. "Are you alright?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he took a step closer to you. Your eyes met his, but they were dull and weary.

“I don’t… feel so good,” you mumble, your balance giving up on you before you stumble forward, thankfully having him catch you right before you hit the ground. Your vision was becoming a blur, and you couldn’t quite hear anything except for a faint ringing sound. Has the exhaustion caught up to you? No, this was way different. Your stomach tingles and your skin feels… out of place. You felt hyper aware of everything, yet nothing at all. All you could see was the blur of Kakashi’s figure holding onto you.

As Kakashi caught you, worry began to consume him as he watched you slowly fade in and out of consciousness, “Shit! (Y/N)!” His eyes scanned your face and body, to search for anything that might be causing this, and they fell onto the red patch on your vest that was stained. As he pulled away the arm that had been covering the wound, he found his sleeve covered with your warm blood. You were bleeding. You were hurt. Whatever had happened to you needed to be treated immediately. Even though you were patched up, you were in dire need of even more medical assistance.

“I’ve got you, (Y/N). You’ll be okay,” were the last words you heard before fading into the dark unconsciousness.

Part 3 coming soon...

A/N: what do you guys think of it? I was planning on continuing it, but it was getting way too long, so I decided to split it into parts! Do you guys prefer this series short like the first part, or longer like this one? Also, most importantly, I hope you guys enjoy it!!

Tag list: @saltybloodtears @capynul @yuujifii @sammyxorae @babychunks10 @yourlocaljobstealer @hbessey89 @mammons-master (sorry if you didn’t want to be tagged!!! Please let me know if it bothers you!!)

[eyesxxyou]

❝ teddy ❞ hobie brown x gn!reader

❝ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ❞ teddy bear humping, teasing, humiliation, penetrative sex

Hobie’s off doing Spider-Man stuff more often than not, it’s just a part of the job, as difficult as it is, but you’d grown to accept it. You miss him, a lot, but there are ways to get around that when he just simply can't be there to hold you the way you need him to.

You have a secret teddy bear you sleep with at night. It’s a huge thing, about half your size, dark brown, and fluffy. You had dressed it up just like Hobie, piercings and all, called it his name, misted it with his cologne, and pretended it was him at night when you cuddled with it. It was a shameful little thing. You kept it from Hobie, knowing he would tease you relentlessly for it if he ever found out about it.

It was your mistake falling asleep with it. You hadn't meant to. The faded cologne that clung to its fur and clothes made it so easy to drift away into slumber. You felt safe and safe meant sleepy.

Hobie had a habit of coming to your flat after a night of patrol, just as the sun would crest over the horizon. He’s come, crawl into bed with you, and sleep with a snore that could wake the dead.

That didn't happen this time because you had so blissfully forgotten bear Hobie on the bed and fallen asleep in your wait for Hobie Hobie to come back and sleep throughout the day with you.

You awake to a deep, guttural chuckle, eyes fluttering to open as your hazy vision cleared and saw Hobie standing over your bed, staring at bear Hobie with a grin on his dark, beautiful lips. “Wha's this then?” He motioned to the clear replica of himself in bear form you were all cuddled up with.

You scrambled up in bed, you eyes flickering between your two Hobies. “I- I uhm…”

“Do ya hump it?” He asked, such a Hobie thing to ask, tossing it back down on the bed in front of you. His lips curled when you didn't respond, cashing your eyes away from him with your fingers fiddled aimlessly with each other. “My fuckin’ days, ya do.” He laughed again, thoroughly amused by the situation and your utter embarrassment.

Hobie grabbed the bear, picked it up under its armpits and lifted it to examine it. “This me?” He asked as if the answer wasn't obvious. He wanted to hear you say it, say that you have a bear replica of him just to further your humiliation. Your face heated with embarrassment as you nod once. “Yeah…”

Hobie was silent for a moment, staring at it. A sick thought entered his head.

“Go ‘head, show me then. I wanna see.”

Before you know it, Hobie has you naked and on top of bear Hobie, straddling the thing that looks so innocently up at you. He’s behind you, large, rough hands on your hips to guide your motions as you rut your hips on rough fabric of bear Hobie's pants.

You moan softly as Hobie’s hands grope at your body, your hips shuddering against the rough fabric of your favorite teddy. Your back arches, body rolling while Hobie kissed at the shell of your ear and whispered soft obscenities to you.

“Ya think ‘e can do better than me?” He pushes your hips forward and back, forward and back, your leaking out all over the poor thing, ruining the fabric you would inevitably have to wash later as you always did. “Hm? Does ‘e make ya moan louder than me?”

You whimpered, craning your head around to look at him only for Hobie to spank you softly on the soft flesh of your ass. “Don' look at me, look at Hobie, doll.” He makes your hump and rut and fuck against your precious companion, all for his greedy eyes to take in and enjoy.

You’re cries are soft with humiliation, fingers gripping the soft plush of the teddy to keep it still beneath you while you fuck yourself against it. Hobie chuckles in your ear. “Fuckin’ pathetic, really.”

And when you cum, you make a mess of the thing, leaving your poor Hobie and wet and sticky with cum. Its face remains unchanged, just as innocent as before.

You’re forced to stare at it as Hobie gets you on all fours on top of it and eases his cock into you. You’re made to kiss it’s nose and tell it you love it while Hobie fucks himself into your pretty little hole. His cock slides against that sweet spot that makes your body shudder with the throes of another quick, shivering orgasm.

“Look at Hobie, luv. Look a’cha favorite lil’ boyfriend.”

[inexplicifics]

Oooh, Gweld/Serrit college AU sounds so good! Is Serrit a Fine Arts major? What's Gweld studying? Also, Gen x 10 intrigues me!

The modern college AU was contributed by several members of the AWAU server! It's pretty much entirely bullet points at the moment; here are a few.

Gweld is a cheerleader - he tried out on a dare and discovered it’s actually a) extremely athletic & difficult and b) a lot of fun. All the girls enjoy the fact that he can and will throw them very high and then catch them again reliably. He has gotten a lot more flexible since he joined the team. He has absolutely no shame about any of this and definitely wears the skirt (with shorts under it).

Serrit is majoring in History and is the star player of the women’s field hockey team. She is vicious - people call her the Viper for her speed and terrifying accuracy. She mostly doesn’t pay attention to the cheerleaders until one of her teammates points out the guy, and then she’s Very Confused. More so when it turns out he’s kind of a puppy?

They’re taking Statistics together and it’s an eight am class and Serrit Does Not Like Early Mornings and Gweld keeps showing up with two coffees? One for him and one for her? Is he drugging them? Is he trying to bribe her for something? What could this possibly mean? (Flirting. He’s flirting.)

Aiden is an art student and gymnast. He’s very good at both. He meets Gweld at the gym and is Baffled but Delighted by Gweld’s good nature. He’s also delighted by Gweld’s little brother, who is ever so much fun to tease.

Lambert is triple majoring in Chemistry, Nilfgaardian, and Forestry, because he is batshit. He Deeply Resents his brother dragging him to the gym on a regular basis, except for the two facts that a) he really does need the exercise, and b) Gweld has introduced him to Aiden, who is Terrifyingly Bendy.

Geralt is in vet school, planning to specialize in horse medicine. He is very happy.

And as long as I'm doing school AUs, here's a snippet of a gen high school AU that I'm not entirely sure where it's going:

Of course. Of course Jaskier’s locker is right next to a jock’s. And he had been so hoping that this year he wouldn’t be making a close acquaintance with the inside of his locker. But there’s a whole cluster of big young men in letterman jackets clustered around right next to where Jaskier needs to go, laughing and shoving each other, and Jaskier knows from painful experience that the introduction of an outsider - an outsider who is so very out of place - will likely mean that they turn their play into something much, much nastier. He could just…carry all his stuff, and not use his locker at all. For the whole year. But he has a lot of very heavy textbooks, and his viola, and he can’t just carry that around all day. He’s hesitating, wondering if it’s best to just bluff it out or to retreat and come back later - even being late to homeroom might be better than being cornered - when one of the jocks looks up and spots him. “Oh hey!” the jock says - the biggest of the four, a broad-shouldered fellow with chin-length dark hair and brown skin and a really good jawline. “Shit, are we in the way?” “Ah,” Jaskier says, because that was not the opening gambit he expected.

[jolalibrary]

need to see you

simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader summary: Things aren't as easy when you both get back to base. Especially trying to keep a professional distance, worsened when you get hurt. an: can be read as a standalone, but does follow had to see you really freaking well :) word count: 4.7k

simon ghost riley masterlist

Keep your distance. 

That’s what you keep telling yourself. Reminding yourself. More so because your eyes keep landing on him—Ghost.

But then, how could you not? How could you even be expected not to?

This secret. The one forged through sweat, sex and showers has to be guarded and protected—even in the moments when every fibre of your being desperately screams out for him. Each time he raises his hand to adjust his gloves, you’re sure you clench your thighs—the same way you do each time he gives you a look. A certain kind of look. One so reminiscent of a time when you’d said you couldn’t come again, and he told you that you could.

Good girl.

Keeping your distance was best.

Even if you want nothing more than to reenact the time when his fist was in your hair. Even if you craved getting new friction burns on your elbows and knees, with him making you come so hard you forget you’re even a soldier.

There’s also the times when your frustration has risen to new heights and you feel less than whole. When you need comfort and kindness and a moment away from orders, killing and fucking sand. 

You decide you should really keep your distance then.

Not because you don’t want him and not because you don’t care for him. But, because he’s your lieutenant. He has a job, a role—as do you.

It’s why you treasure the moments when he’s the one who surrenders. When he finds you. 

You have no idea what you fuckin’ do to me, Rain. 

You try not to think about it—the effect you have on him. But you see it in the moments when he pulls you into dark corners where the two of you steal milliseconds. His hands grasping, you able to steal a rushed kiss and he leaves bruising touches—as if needing to remind himself your real and very much alive.

“Be safe.”  “Always am.”  “No. You’re fuckin’ not." “I try, I promise.”

His words pressed into your shoulders, collarbone and sternum. Your smirk stolen when his hand slid between the two of you when, teasingly spreading you with two fingers as his body pins yours in place.

If your mind ever tried to scrub him from it—you know your body would never forget him.

It hums and fucking sings for him. It aches for his touch. Thankful he never makes you miss him too much, not letting your body forget how delicious it is when he fills you, stretching you when his hips meet yours.

“Lemme hear you. I need to hear you.”

And you hum, chant and fucking sing his name.

“That’s my girl. Fuck—that’s my girl.”

Ensuring his eyes stare into you as he brings you close, your orgasm pending, so close to pushing you over the edge—teasing you, breath dancing over your lips. 

Ghost enjoys making you wait. Torturing you. Ridiculously enjoying the fact that you want his mouth on yours, but won’t surrender, instead choosing to directly sear himself into your soul, as you whimper his name, until it paints itself on the walls of whatever room you two find yourself in.

Between these times—when he orders you to his room or turns up at your door—you could convince yourself it’s a dream. If not for the fact you have one of his t-shirts amongst your stuff, you could have been persuaded you’d made it all up.

But, it’s real. It’s real because of the soft moments between all the others. The innocent things, the soft looks, the nods.

He tries to be near you, making it impossibly difficult to touch him. His body shielding you from the others, unknowingly being protective—more so than he ever was.

If anything, he's closer, but more verbally distant. Only making jokes and normal retorts when you've worn him down, convincing him it's okay.

It's as though he's worried if he doesn't, everyone will know he spent his time off fucking you senseless. That he sought you out when danger knocked.

That he feels something for you. 

“You know, I held your hand after drinks in the mess—and Soap didn’t realise. I think we’re good.” “That’s because you tricked him into doing two shots to your every one. “Exactly. Not the smartest cookies we work with.”

Some days you take the distance better than others. You’ll stand, stiff spine and chin raised, fighting it reaching out. Knowing he needs it.

But, on harder days—like today—your fingers clench and pinch your skin through your trousers so you don’t speak, to afraid you’ll cry. Whispering his name under your breath when he’s pulling you to evac.

His hand lowering from his chest, as if he’s been grasping it, eyes on you as your form begins to crack.

“Can we just… stop for a second… it hurts….“

But, he won't. Even if you're pleading, just needing him. Not even to stroke your cheek or call you sweetheart, to just tell you it'll be okay.

Not speaking, not stopping, until he can lean you against the truck, Soap quickly wrapping an arm around you—stopping you from falling.

“You’re good, Rain. Alright?”

You’re not.

He knows it too.

Having frozen when he saw your arm in natural light, having ripped your t-shirt with his knife to see what he's dealing with. And since then, he's kept his distance like a complete fucking bastard.

“Johnny, put her arm back in.”

Soap’s head almost cracking with how quick he spins towards him, his arm already holding you up. “Lt, maybe we should wait—“

“Put her arm back in. Now.”

You blame your tears on your arm, not on his coldness. It’s not that you expected him to put it back in himself, but… something, anything.

“Please, Soap… please. Can we wait? It really feels like we should,” you whimper, leaning against the truck.

Pleading and pleading, hearing him whisper, “Sorry, Lass.”

Even if you want to wait, wanting to—

Your scream rips through you.

It burns. It pierces. Your eyes clenching shut, wanting him—needing him. Even something, a look, a touch.

But, when your eyes open, he’s not there. Not even close.

You should get checked out when you return.

Darting out of the truck before any of them can say anything to you.

Instead, you forego food and painting a smile on your face, needing to be alone. Needing to lick your figurative and physical wounds without forcing a front. 

Embarrassment having woven in amongst the anger; the cracks deep within you widening, all of your own demons flowing out.

So you find solace in the shower block. Letting the sound of the running shower drown your hiss and groans as you strip with difficulty, your hand gripping the counter as you pull your top over your head, staring at the various colours of the developing bruises and the swollen nature of your shoulder. 

It’s everything when you step into the burning hot water.

It’s scolding and numbing all at once, a welcomed feeling compared to the dull, constant, throbbing ache due to the dislocation. 

Each action you try to do worsens it, biting your lip until it bleeds as you try to wash your hair—wash the pain, sand and dirt from your skin. You try to wash his ignorance from you too, craving him, needing him.

Realising how wrong that was.

You knew who he was. Knew all he could give you.

It didn’t stop it all from hurting. All of it. Loving him. The missions. Missing him. The last few weeks of chasing phantoms. 

Fuck.

You love him.

It bubbles inside of you, strangling you. Reaching up from deep inside of you, knotting everything as you try to keep a handle on it all.

But it’s too much. And so you sob. 

Silently at first. Body shaking, hand clutching your mouth. And then it ripples through you.

You love him. You love him. You love him.

It makes your chest rise and fall quicker, and quicker. It vibrates through you, your grip on the body wash bottle slipping as it clatters and your spine crashes into the wall. 

As each tear spills, the shower does its best to hide them. Tries to bury them. Keep your secrets as if they’re its own. 

It’s not until the last sud slides down the drain do you begin to replay it.

Your positioned compromised, your feet rushing to the stairs, being thrown off your feet, hand clutching your gun as the dust blocks your vision. You can hear him scream into your radio; it almost sounding like care and panic.

Almost. I have no where to go. Find a way. Copy. Rain? You can do this.

Your body fighting it’s way through. Reading between the lines, Find a way back to me.

So you have to. You have to do something. Get out. To him. Whatever your motivation, you fought. Knife in hand. Gun poised. Clearing each level, glad for the explosion and the dust, working in your favour as you moved silently.

Each turn, you hoped you’d see one of you—needing it.

Almost there. So close. So fucking close until you see them. The one you’re after. His picture burnt into your mind from the amount of briefings you’ve had about it.

So you don’t think. Not as you slam your body into him, knife clattering away from you and him. Your gun swinging back around. Their body made of stone as you both land, their reaction quicker, flipping you, hands around your throat. Your nails scratching, pushing your leg up, something they preempt, before tightening and tightening as your shoulder screams, and your throat hisses for air—

Then, all of a sudden, he’s ripped from on top of you. Blinking, trying to breathe as you clutch your throat. Hearing someone shouting to someone—British, gruff.

Your eyes opening, finding him—Ghost. Simon. His eyes full of fury, wildfire and brimstone—scanning over you, checking you.

You’re not sure what you expect, but him being calm isn’t it.

“You hurt?” “Shoulder. Dislocated, I think.” His hand outstretched, pulling you up by your good one as you wheeze. “I found a way, like you said.” “Fuckin’ Jesus, Rain.”

You’d known it would be hard. The two of you.

But that tone. The way he hissed it at you, it made something knot inside of you.

Knowing deep down the only reason his indifference hurts is because you wanted to bury your head into his chest. You wanted a stolen moment. But you couldn’t, not without letting them all know. The secret festering inside of you, making things horrid and bitter—half-wondering if you can handle much more of this.

Missing him, while knowing why it has to be this way.

It’s why you stay in the shower. No one expects anything from you in here. You can enjoy the sound of nothingness. The emptiness. Fall apart in the complete fucking silence—no one doing anything about it.

Away from him, your brain can’t conjuring what ifs and what could have been. A moments peace from pain as the water scolds to the point it numbs, the silence soothing the rest of the anxious adrenaline.

And then, it’s ruined.

Jumping, heart lurching out your throat when the shower-block door flies open, the sound of two boots shattering it all before the discernable sound of a lock is turned.

You know that gait. Know those boots. 

The gruff voice calling out, “Rain,” confirming it. “Rain?”

Still, the way he says your call name almost makes you smile. It’s laced in worry, in care, hearing his boots stop outside where you are.

Seeing the shadow of him through the curtain. That burly, thick, tall god of a man. The one whose hand dwarfs yours and whose body can shield you from the sun. 

You should speak, almost willing yourself to as you swallow. Running the back of your hand against your face, before turning the water off—removing the background noise and replying without any words that your conscious.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbles, dark and gruff—if only to himself. 

You hear a shuffle before a gloved hand darts through the cream curtain with a towel balled in his grip, “Here.” 

You consider being difficult. 

Forcing him to say whatever he has to communicate through the curtain and not do it with your eyes on him. Because he likes that. He said as much in one of the many times he tried to snap you in half. 

Your eyes are fuckin’ everything, sweetheart. 

You take it from him all the same. Ensuring you don’t touch him as you do. Wrapping it around yourself, not bothering to run it over your hair, not bothering to really dry yourself. Protect, shield, hide. That’s your focus, your only focus—as you open the curtain, the sound of plastic and metal grating as you unveil yourself. 

You’re not sure what you expect, but his mask half-lifted, exposing his lips and lower cheeks, and leaning against the tiles wasn’t it. You expected stiff shoulders, a menacing glare, and a rigid body. 

“I’m not fucking you if that’s why you’ve locked the door,” you say quickly, ensuring your gaze is as sharp as his. 

“I’ve not—bloody hell, Rain. S’not why I’m here.” 

Stepping out, your wet toes against dry tiles make goosebumps dance up your legs. Your eyes focusing on the mirrors above the sink, feeling water dripping down your skin. It falls from your hair to your shoulders, raising your good arm to use your palm to wipe condensation from the mirror—not wanting to look at him directly. 

He’s not moved any of your clothes. Not even the ones you‘ve taken off, the ones covered in blood or the ones you need to put on. Except for your tags. 

Your eyes linger on the one with the clear thumb mark having been brushed over it. Too smooth to not be a gloved thumb, the condensation having been removed, leaving it almost dry and exposing your name to the world. 

Eyes connecting with his, watching him dip his as he sighs.

You’re betting he’d hoped you wouldn’t notice.

Forgetting who you are. How you always notice the smaller things—it’s why you’re good, why you’re needed. It’s also why you’re better on roofs than hand-to-hand—it’s why your shoulder dislocated when you rugby tackled the enemy to the ground. That and the man you took down being double your size. You barely make Ghost move during sparring.

“Rain, c’mon.”

The lump in your throat forms as he says your name again. Finding it quickly fills too much space—cutting off any reply, and almost hindering your breathing.

But, he’s shifted, leaning sideways now to watch you, your eyes lifting from the sink to the mirror and back again. 

I had to see you.

Sighing, you stare at him, softer, more forgiving than you’d have mustered earlier. 

“You’re a piece of shit.” He rolls his lips, looking at you, as if imploring you to continue. “I needed you—“

“—I know—“

“—and you… you passed me to Soap? Like you’re not… like we’re not. Why? I don’t even ask you for anything—but, I needed you, Simon. I tried to spear a man twice my size into the ground and you couldn’t even look at me!”

He stands, and you shake your head, hiding your eyes as you look down at your clothes, hands gripping the counter.

“Deserve better than me, sweetheart.”  “Better than what? You’ve not even asked me what I want.”  “What d’you want?”  “You.” “Dirty girl.” “Ha. Ha. I want all of you. Not just your cock. I want, when you’re ready, all of you. Nothing more. Nothing less. I don’t need a label. I don’t want special treatment. But, if you want me, and only me, then I’m yours. No games. No hiding and running away. It’s us. Until one of us decides it isn’t.” “Yeah?”  “Yes, Simon. Warts and all. Skeletons and masks.”

You understand, on some level. Aware it’s even a little selfish of you to call him out on something you know the reasoning behind.

Because if they find out, it changes things.

Your guard will go down. The two of you fumbling, risking it getting out of the base and onto enemies radars.

And he’s lost so much. Too much, truthfully.

It’s why you both made the stupid promises amongst bedsheets and sweat-slicked bodies that nothing would change when you were here—at work. 

And, he must be replaying the same conversation. His eyes glazed, ever so slightly before they land on you. They’re warmer and kinder.

As kind as Ghost’s eyes can ever be when behind his mask and surrounded by face paint. 

“I couldn’t, that’s why.”

“Because you’re afraid showing me a slither of kindness will tell them all you’re sleeping with me?” you snap.

His hand running over his jaw. “No—and we’re more than that. And y’know that.”

His voice tainted with hurt as you arch your brow.

And he sighs, rolling his jaw. “I couldn’t because I wanted to burn everyone in our path each time I looked at you. And then I couldn’t put your arm back in because I knew it would hurt, and I can’t fuckin’ hurt you, Rain.”

Your head turns, meeting him face on. Surprise falling across your features.

“I can put my finger in your wound, I can hold your head while you’re fuckin’ bleeding. But, sweetheart, your scream… fuck, I wanted to punch Johnny. I wanted to find Price and that fuckin’ man, and rip his head off. Fuck keepin’ him alive. And fuck, the fucking mission.”

It thunders, your pulse. Heart hammering so loud, you’re sure he must hear it.

“You have no idea what I wanted to do when I found you, when I saw where his hands had been,” he adds, his fist clenching at his side, eyes dropping to your neck.

Your ears buzzing from your quickened heart rate. It hammering, thick, heavy and pounding into your ribs and making the anger melt.

Turning back to the mirror, you let your shoulders relax, ever so slightly. Sliding a hand up, moving your hair as best as you can—trying to disguise your hiss and groan as you reach down to pick up your dog tags. 

And he hears it. Ghost hears your pained hiss.

He must have. His feet move, chest coming into contact with your towel-covered back in an instant. The mere knowledge he’s there makes you want to turn on the spot, and curl into him. Even if he stays rigid and doesn’t move.

Because it hurts. It hurts more than you thought it would. Knowing it’s all likely because you’re tired and drained of everything, of keeping a smile on your face, of fighting him and his apparent displeasure at you.

It’s only a dislocation. 

It’s not a bullet. It’s not a knife. You’ve literally survived worse. 

Still, you blink, tears begging to fall—fighting them with all you have. Only then feeling his fingers tap on your elbow, looking through the mirror to you for permission: can I touch you, can I help you?

You nod, tears falling as you whimper a “Please”. It coming out all strangled and strained, barely close to your normal voice. 

He’s gentle, oh so gentle.

Taking the chain from your hand, lifting it, letting the scent you’ve come to know as simply him mixing with the air. Smoke, sweat and wood. The metal chain teasing your skin and neck, gloved fingers tracing your skin.

Your throat thick, your body tense, having needed him close for the last hour—and yet you still hiss when the tags hit your breastbone, the click of it so loud in the built-up silence.

The same silence you expect to be interrupted again when he moves. Keeping your eyes closed, not wanting to watch him do so.

But, Ghost doesn’t move. 

One eye opening, finding him watching you.

Instead, his fingers slide from around the chain down the back of your neck. The fabric rough against your soft skin, watching them descend down, moving to your collarbones—to places he’s nipped and kissed. Your body almost flushes with warmth. Sheer will and determination are the only reason you haven’t let it. 

Something which is harder as his hands slide down the side of the towel, firm grip feeling the way you curve until they land at your waist. 

He’s stiff. Tense. It takes you a second, but you’re sure he’s hugging you. His version of it, anyway. 

Tight and rigid, until his shoulders defriend his ears, and his muscles realise you’re not going to pull away. Not realising you never would. That you’ve wanted this, needed it—and been too afraid to ask.

It’s all you’d wanted since he pulled you up off the ground, your other arm hanging limply. You’d just wanted to be pressed against him, whether it be like this where he kept your spine to his chest or where your chest was to his. 

And from the way he’s holding you, you’re not sure this is just for you. That maybe, like you, you’re sure he wants to be around you. Unprepared—same as you—to delve deeply into the churning emotions which have begun peppering his heart. All of it a confusing array of emotions too complex to be unpacked here, tomorrow or next week. 

Your lips almost whisper thank you, but he silences it with the way he looks at you.

Don’t fucking thank me, Rain. I know I shoulda done this earlier.

His chin comes to rest on the top of your head, affirming the thought you’re sure you can hear, his eyes pinning it in place in your mind. Not wanting you to forget there’s a part of him—the one which had been in your home, in your bed—that is softer and kinder than the man he has been earlier. 

Even if the steam is misting over the parts your fingers brushed away, his eyes prevail. Persevering through condensation and steam.

The look slowly pecking its way through you, the walls you’ve thrown up, the shield you’ve put in place whenever he has to do his job when he has to show no mercy and treat you like the subordinate you are.

“We good?” you ask, needing to.

The thought pecking and pecking.

He shifts his chin, allowing a twitch of his lips to show. “We’re good.”

You blink in relief, leaning back into him—letting him wrap his arms around you a little easier as you relax.

“Simon…”

You rarely say his name, and it forces his eyes up from wherever they’d fallen. Usually only letting yourself taste each letter of it when he tells you to when he’s buried so deep inside of you, and you’re not thinking. 

“It hurts… a lot.” 

He sighs, cool, against your wet hair as he wraps his arms around your front, holding you tighter on the one side of your body that isn’t screaming in agony. 

“I know, sweetheart. I know.”

The parts of his face you can see, seem to be turning over something, eyes glancing over your shoulder, one hand lifting, almost ghosting over the developing bruises and inflamed skin. 

His lips part, as if to speak something else

And, then he turns you. Your feet move with ease until you’re face to face with him—lower back pressing against the sink counter. 

A tear falling down your cheek, one quickly followed by another.  

If you hadn't just spoken, you’re sure you could have easily excused it as water from your hair. But, from this position, it doesn’t blend. It stands out, sparkling and shining to the two of you—as he raises a hand to wipe it away with his thumb.

“I like you alive, too.” 

Your eyes meet his, taking a moment until you realise the call back to your words from your bed that first night: I care about you and… I like you alive, Simon.

He dips his head, making it easier to stare into his eyes as he nods. I mean it. I mean them. Believe me. 

Both of your shoulders sink, as if the rest of the unspoken words are heavy on both of you, adding a breath each to the air as he lifts his mask up to his forehead before you raise a hand to touch his lower cheek.

You brace for the flinch—before your hand touches him. The one he always does as soon as you brush his skin with any kindness. The demons inside of him making him think he’s not worth it, all the scars which your eyes cannot see, having made him that way. 

It’s why when your fingers make contact, you don’t change your expression at his wince, holding his stare, so he knows: It's okay, I’ve got you. 

“We good?” you whisper, too afraid to say it any louder.

Watching his eyes fix on you, feeling him curl his head slightly into your palm. “We’re good.”

His own hand beginning to draw the same shapes, as you are on his cheek, on your hip—his forehead slowly pressing against yours.   

And it’s intimate.

More intimate than the two of you have been in some time. A moment growing, blossoming. It stuffing out the silence and making something else in its place.

“Rain...”

“Ghost.” 

“…Sweetheart.”

You smile, not quick enough to retort a baby, darling or a dearest back, because he says your name.

The same one he stroked earlier. Your real one.

“Wh-what’s wrong?”

And it hits you. Silences you. Able to hear the thought. His thought. 

It screams and shouts. Having been stuffed down inside of him for weeks. It almost thrums in the air, having begun as a soft strum of a guitar or the soft lulls of a piano and is now reaching its climax—the part of the song where the key changes, the bridge, and everything shifts on its axis. 

He tears his eyes from you. 

The confirmation damning. 

“Oh, Simon…”

You watch his Adam's apple bob, his jaw tightening even as you try to stroke the tension away—pulling his focus back to you. 

Not saying it with words either, but responding with a similar look.

I do too. 

And you hope he can hear you too.

Hoping he’s in tune with your internal thoughts, as you are with his. That you’re both speaking the same language, even if you’re saying nothing out loud.  

The silence different than before. It’s comforting. Allowing the two of you to have as many milliseconds, seconds and minutes.

“C’mon, you need food.” 

Your eyes dip, rolling your lips together as he drops his hand from your hip, your hand falling from his. Looking up, watching his mask shift back into place 

“Ghost…” 

“Yea?” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, sighing. “Could you… I know that it’s not usually what we do, but… could you help me… get dressed?” 

He nods. Brief. Direct. It almost making you laugh.

Unsure how the two of you are more embarrassed about that, than almost saying out loud that you love one another. 

“Lemme know if I hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

Eyes locking with yours, he blinks—once, twice—before his hand reaches past you, and you wonder if he’s smiling.

Wanting to find out, his face so close, but he moves as if reading you, returning to his position clutching your underwear.

You can’t help but watch as he slowly lowers down onto his knee, your hand leveraging your weight on the counter as you raise one leg.

He’s delicate, more than anyone would believe if you ever told this story. Not even looking up when you pull the towel up, even if you’re exposing your bottom half to him.

Ghost being so methodical, tapping your other foot as you slide it through the leg hole. You feel the knot in your stomach tighten as his hands pull the fabric up, moving it past your knees, your thighs and onto your hips. 

His eyes linger on your skin, before flicking to your eyes and then presses a single, masked kiss to the space just above where the bone of your hip is.

The action alone screams the same words he didn’t say earlier. Those three words. 

Ones you don’t require him to say, not needing to hear them. 

You know. 

Have known since he stood opposite you between your opened bedroom doorway. It rolled from him then, just as it is now. Thick, large waves, and you don’t mind if it pulls you under, wishing it would fill your lungs, drown you. 

Because you’re hoping to drown him too. Not even realising you’ve already pulled him under. Having done so months ago, before he’d even shown up at your door.

[prose-for-hire]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!! 👻🎃 I hope you're having a spooky time and if you still want any little fic ideas how about uhhh running to Spike's crypt for help on Halloween night but he thinks it's just a trick or treater and is ready to give you a piece of his MIND (maybe he does have candy to throw at people tho) until he realises you're hurt👀👀Spike x female or neutral reader?

if you don't fancy the idea no problem either I hope you have fun writing whatever you choose!!

Happy Halloween, lovely !! 🦇

Warning: mention of drinking

Thank you so much for the request, I love this idea!! 💖

It was Halloween. Nothing bad was supposed to happen on Halloween.

The night had been cruel to you. There was a thick fog that had descended, marring your vision and making an already dark cemetery even harder to navigate.

When you found it you were relieved. You knocked on the door in your weakened state but he heard it clearly.

“I’ve already told you thieving wankers to bugger off before I give you something to bloody shout about-!” He stormed towards the door and wrenched it open.

“Oh. Y/n. Don’t have any candy left, love, but if you wanted some sugar…” he raised an eyebrow but it faltered slightly when he caught a familiar scent.

“Spike, not the time, I’m… I’m hurt” you moved your hand away from your middle showing your hand covered in your own blood.

Spike always flirted with you, he has what you might call a soft spot for you. In short, he was obsessed.

But you were a Scooby and usually, any time he got close to you you were pulled away by your friends. They saw the way he looked at you and they didn’t like it.

You were often happily oblivious. You liked that he was friendly and he was naturally flirty and you couldn’t say you didn’t enjoy that too.

He guided you to his sofa and started rattling about grabbing things that might be of some kind of help. You smiled, even through your pain when you saw candy wrappers in the bowl. He had actually been giving out candy to trick or treaters.

“How’d you get in this sorry state, pet?” He asked kneeling before you. He offered you some liquor to help dull the pain. You took it. You were really hurting.

“It’s Halloween so I wanted to do something fun but I sort of stumbled into a nest of vampires”

“And all you got was a nasty scratch?” He said, almost impressed. But the wound was deeper than he would have liked. Not life-threatening, but still.

“My pride hurts a little too” you muttered and his eyes shined in amusement. You inhaled sharply as he cleaned your wound with some sort of antiseptic.

He worked as gently as he could, which was incredibly difficult considering you were very human and annoyingly very breakable. His touch lingered against the exposed skin of your abdomen. His eyes met yours, he looked like he wanted to say something. Something important. But he opted for telling you he was done.

“Thanks, Spike. How’s your Halloween going?”

“Better than yours by all accounts”

“It’s better now I’m here” you let the words tumble out of your mouth before recovering, “and not being eaten by vampires I mean”

“You still might be. Your blood type, it’s the good stuff”

“Do you really not have any candy left?”

“No, the little blighters stole them all” he grumbled for another minute or more. You weren’t sure, you were watching his mouth, those lips, as he spoke.

“It’s nothing, it would have made me feel a little better” you shrugged and he started to grab his duster and shrug it on.

“Need to get some blood”

“You’re… leaving me?” You almost broke his heart. He was prepared to drop everything and tend to you. Stay by your side and never leave. But he has something he needed to do.

“Rest up, pet. I’ll be back” he insisted, switching on his tv for you and throwing a blanket your way before he went.

What you didn’t know, is he had caught the scent of your attackers even through the very alluring smell of your blood.

He went, fought them, dusted them. And then stopped by his local butchers and snatched a handful of candy from some kid in a costume before he returned to you.

He dusted off his jacket and drank his blood without a need for breath. He handed you the bag of candy and you excitedly picked out your favourite ones.

He wanted to sit on the sofa but you needed to lie down to rest your wound. You settled for moving your head up and using his lap as a pillow. His idea, you swear. But it was a very good idea. Probably one of the best he’d ever had.

You were so comfortable in his company (in spirit, you were still in a lot of pain). His hand met yours as you both felt around for candy. Your eyes met his, giggling until it started to hurt your side again. You winced but reached for his face.

“You have a bit of… something. Here” you wiped it away with your thumb. Your finger lingering, you liked the way he moved into your touch. His eyes closing slowly as he savoured the contact.

“Blood and dust” he shrugged after a moment. You frowned and he explained. He had fought and killed all of the vampires that had caused you harm.

You gasped. He had killed for you. You don’t think anyone had done anything so romantic for you before.

That Halloween was the night you realised you loved him.

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Caitlin having to withstand her girlfriend's torture - getting praised and teased as her girlfriend slowly drag Caitlin to the dark side (Helps Caitlin relax for once in her life and cut lose).

May or may not end up with them running from enforcers and/or gang members.

Your Idiot

|| Caitlyn x fem!reader

|| Warnings: first time writing for Caitlyn, shorter than my usual stuff

|| Summary: reader gets back from a heist, Caitlyn isn't pleased. The heist would later come back to interrupt their date.

Requests open!

~~~

You and Caitlyn have been dating for a while. The only problem being you were from the Undercity. Which often lead to a lot of difficulties in your relationship, but the two of you did your best to not let it get in the way of things.

You'd just returned from a heist, plopping the bag of items you'd collected on the couch before flopping down next to it. Arms draped over the back of the couch as you looked at the ceiling. Letting your eyes close for a moment.

You heard the sound of someone clearing their throat and opened your eyes to see Caitlyn giving you a disapproving gaze, arms folded across her chest.

"Care to explain where you've been?"

"Shopping." You smirked, nodding your head towards the bag and she sighed deeply.

"I can't believe we are having this discussion again. I told you, I would assist you with whatever you needed." She tells you, her tone firm.

"Yeah, but I don't want to have to always rely on you. That's not fair to you. Besides, it's fun! Let loose for once, Caitlyn." You tell her, leaning forward as you rest your arms against your knees. Keeping yourself propped up.

"I can let loose." She rolls her eyes," just not when it comes to the law!"

You stand and walk over to her, pulling her into a gentle kiss. She melts into it and you stay like that for a moment before breaking it. Giving her cheek a gentle tap which makes her narrow her eyes at you.

"Calm down. Nobody saw me."

She looks at you with a gaze you can't quite read," you are really annoying sometimes."

"Love you, too." You chuckle, giving her a soft smile.

~~~

A few days after, you and Caitlyn were out on a date in Piltover. Enjoying a nice cup of coffee as you chatted. Though it was soon interrupted as two enforcers rushed into the shop, pointing directly at you. You don't quite catch what they had shouted at you, already having sprung into action. You flip the table, creating a barrier that would hopefully slow them down for a moment before grabbing Caitlyn by her wrist and sprinting towards the back door. Shoving it open with your shoulder as the two of you ran out of the shop. Apparently someone had seen you on your heist days before.

Caitlyn has a mix of panic and annoyance in her features as she runs with you down a back alley, headed for the Undercity.

"Are you serious?! I thought you said no one saw you!" She shouts, throwing her hands out to the side.

"Turns out someone did!" You shout back.

"Ugh, why am I even with you?!"

"Because I'm charming and irresistible!" You tease her, she shoves you slightly in frustration and you laugh. The two of you managing to lose the enforcers by heading into the Undercity, jumping from building to building. You help Caitlyn get across on some of the more difficult ones until you've reached your safe house. If you can even call it a house. It's not the nicest place in the world but it was yours.

The two of you plopping down on the makeshift bed, trying to catch your breaths. Caitlyn being slightly more out of breath than you.

"You are such an idiot." She mutters, hand on her chest as she glares at you.

"Maybe. But I'm your idiot." You give her a finger gun, which certainly didn't improve her mood with you. You found it amusing though. Teasing Caitlyn was just too easy sometimes.

"Shut up."

[cloudlessly-light]

Hi!! Would you consider writing hotchniss thigh riding? There’s so few of them 😔 and maybe coupled with spit kink if you can? Your previous spit kink fics had me WILD. Thank you!!

A/N: Hi Anon! I hope you like this and that you don't mind that I added some other stuff as well, please enjoy!

Title: Gonna make you sweat Summary: Emily usually never disturbs him when he’s working from home, but sometimes she just can’t help herself. Word count: 2,3k Rating: Explicit Warnings: Smut, thigh grinding, spit kink, breath play/choking, verbal humiliation, dom Aaron, sub Emily, filth, absolute filth

It’s quiet when she unlocks the front door to their home. The lights all turned off except one and she smiles at the way Aaron always leaves a light for her when she comes home later than him. She kicks off her shoes and groans happily, the heels she’s worn for a night out with Penelope and JJ, as stunning as they were, are not worth the pain. The stillness of their house is soothing, knowing that Jack was tucked into bed and that Aaron was probably in bed waiting for her making adoration flutter in her chest.

But as she goes up the stairs and sees the light on in his home office she turns towards it instead of their bedroom and sure enough, he’s sitting there, still in his slacks but the tie off and the first couple of buttons of his shirt unbuttoned. Today had been a tiring day for him, she knew that, and even if she wouldn’t tell him as much, it was part of her reason for cutting girl’s night short.

For a few seconds she takes in the way he’s looking sitting there, so effortlessly gorgeous, as he concentrates on putting pen to paper. He’s been at it for hours, she can tell by the slightly strained expression on his face, the way he’s flexing his fingers before grabbing the pen again.

Emily rarely disturbs him when he’s working, and she isn’t sure if it’s the way he looks as he sits there, or the wine she’s had, or the want she always felt toward him, or maybe it’s knowing that he needs to release some tension after the difficult day he’s had, maybe it’s the mix of all of it. But she finds that she can’t help herself as she quietly unzips her dress and lets it fall to the floor. She steps out of it and then clears her throat as she takes a couple of steps toward him.

“Hi honey.” She smiles when he looks up at the sound of her voice and watches in amusement as his eyes move over frame slowly.

“You’re home early.” He says and pushes back on his chair to turn fully to face her and motions for her to come closer.

“Henry is sick.” She shrugs just as she comes to stop in front of him. His eyes move over her body slowly once more and she feels the familiar rush from it as his tongue licks over his bottom lip.

“And you thought that you’d come in here and distract me?” His hands graze the outside of her thighs as she nods and when she shivers in response to his touch he raises an eyebrow in amusement. “You know better than that, sweetheart.”

She smirks as he grabs her fully, large hands holding her hips as he pulls her toward him to straddle his lap.

“Can I really be blamed when you’re this sexy?” She muses, her lips brushing against his as she speaks before she kisses him. Her tongue is quick to seek out his, a happy sigh sounding from her when he licks into her mouth as his hands move over her body. The familiar feel of his warm, slightly calloused fingers sends goosebumps across her skin, the heat of his palms quickly making her entire body feel hot even in the slightly cool room.

Aaron groans lowly when he feels her hips start to grind on his lap, the heat of her evident even through her silk panties and his pants. When he breaks their kiss her dark eyes are hazy, her cheeks flushed pink and he swallows down the urge to take her right there. But there was something about Emily, needy and desperate, drunk on him, that was unlike any power rush he’d ever felt before. And tonight, after hours of paperwork and a day consisting of bureaucracy and red tape, he needed that power.

With that thought in mind he unhooks her bra, dark eyes locked on hers as it falls to the floor and before she has the chance to say anything else, he slowly wraps his hand around her throat, making sure he has her attention as he squeezes the tiniest bit. When he feels the way she swallows down a moan he smirks at her.

“You want me that bad, baby? That you can’t even wait until we’re in bed?” He squeezes harder and her hips roll against his lap in response.

“Aaron I-” Her voice is breathy, but it’s not what he wants to hear so he cuts her off with another squeeze, this one hard as he holds her gaze for a couple of seconds before letting go.

“Try again.” He watches in amusement as she fights the internal battle with herself, knows that in the end what they both want is for her to give herself completely to him, but sometimes she would put up a bit of a fight. Tonight however, it looked like her need for him was bigger than her need to be defiant.

“I want you so bad.” She whispered, the flush on her cheeks all but disappearing as her entire body flushes with the admission.

“Aww, you poor thing.” He keeps his hand around her throat as he pushes her off his lap only to tug her underwear off her hips before standing up too. There was something about Emily completely naked when he was still fully clothed that made heat flutter in his belly.

“Open.” He tilts her head back just slightly, a dark groan rumbling in his chest when her mouth opened, already knowing what was coming. When he spit into her mouth and she swallowed with a moan he hummed happily. “Good girl.”

Emily is sure she must be dripping from arousal as she watches how he sits down on his chair again, legs spread and body leaning back against the backrest, his entire being demanding respect. She knows what he wants before he says it, but she doesn’t move until he nods.

“You know you can’t always get what you want.” He pulls her closer but this time lets her straddle one of his thighs instead of his lap. The way she sucks in a breath at the feeling of fabric against her clit causes his fingers to dig into her waist slightly. “You want to act like a desperate little thing, and because I’m so nice I’m going to let you get off on my thigh. Let you prove to me how much you want it.”

His low voice and slightly condescending tone only make her flush harder, her body feeling like it was on fire and he hadn’t even touched her yet. She knew she was already staining his slacks, the wet spot already visible when she rearranged her body slightly and Aaron smirked, something smug and self-assured that she would have been irritated by if they had been in any other situation but this one. Instead it only turns her on and she slowly starts to grind on against his thigh, a soft moan falling from her lips at finally getting some relief.

Her hands move to grip his shoulders, her hips rolling and rocking against the strong muscle of his leg as his hands stay on her waist, letting her set the pace. His intense stare on her only makes her grind harder, something about knowing that he loved to watch her, getting her off. It always did.

“Look at you, it’s barely been two minutes and you’ve already soaked me.” He muses as the wet spot on his slacks get bigger, the feel of her wetness against his skin making his cock jerk in it’s confines. “What do you say to that?”

It takes her a second to find any words at all, but as her eyelids flutter open and she sees the furrowed eyebrows and lips pressed together in a thin line she gasps.

“I’m sorry.” Her grip on his shoulders must be hurting him but he only encourages her by pushing his thigh against her.

“Sorry for what?” Aaron lets go of her waist as he speaks, instead he grabs the back of her neck with one hand, the other moving to toy with her nipples.

“Sorry for ruining your pants.” She moans, the way he’s rolling one of her nipples sending pleasurable sparks to her clit, and her hips buckle slightly.

“That’s okay baby,” He coos before pulling her into a kiss that’s more tongue than anything else. “that’s what happens when desperate girls can’t help themselves.” He squeezes around the back of her neck and then let’s go, knowing from Emily’s slightly frantic movements that she’s getting close.

“Fuck, Aaron…” She whimpered as she rolled her hips against his thigh, dragging her clit against it harder as she felt herself squeeze around nothing. “Feels good.” Her words are mumbled between breathless moans and pants, her orgasm building slowly.

“I know, you’re so wet sweetheart.” He sits up straighter and wraps one arm around the small of her back to keep her steady as he sucks a nipple into his mouth. When he tugs it between his teeth, Emily’s hips buckle in desperation and he presses his leg harder up against her, making sure she gets as much pressure against her clit as possible.

She jerks, her body chasing her release as she rolls her hips harder and faster, nothing but lewd moans and his name falling from her lips as her body starts to strain.

“Good girl, come for me.” His cock was hurting from how badly he wanted to feel her, aching from being hard for so long without getting any relief, but as Emily started to spasm on top of him, he knew that any waiting, or uncomfortableness was worth it. He watched as her eyes rolled back and mouth fell open, felt how her hips jerked and grinded against his leg as she continued to ride out her pleasure with a cry that was almost too loud.

She felt her orgasm in her entire body, the pleasure of it making her eyesight blurry as she continued to grind down on his clothed thigh until only aftershocks rocked her body. Her eyes, heavy lidded and hazy found his and she smiled lazily.

“Thank you.” She mumbled and he chuckled, the sound raspy and low. When he carefully pushed her off his leg, only to quickly move her to his desk, she didn’t fight him, still happily dazed and sated. Her eyes moved to the wet spot on his leg and she blushed at the mess she had made, but she could tell that Aaron loved it, he always loved when she fell apart, it didn’t matter how it happened.

“Now it’s my turn.” He muttered as he made quick work of getting his pants and boxers off. He stepped between her spread legs and groaned at the feeling of her soft skin against his heated shaft, enjoyed the feeling as he shallowly thrust against her thigh while unbuttoning his shirt, knowing that he was smearing precum on her skin.

“Please, fuck me.” She whispered when he continued to tease her, a smirk on his face as he rubbed the tip of his cock through her folds repeatedly. It was enough, his desperation for her finally clear when he pushed inside of her and quickly setting a pace as he groaned against her lips.

“How do you always feel so good?” He grunted, the pleasure of her slick walls making him crazy. His hands gripped her hips tight to keep her in place as he started to move with hard, fast thrusts and when her legs wrapped around his hips, he hissed her name.

“Do it again.” She whispered against his neck and when she pulled back her eyebrow arched and her head tilted back as her lips opened.

“Dirty fucking thing.” He growled and spit in her mouth again, watched with heated eyes as she swallowed dutifully with a filthy smirk on her lips.

It’s rough, fast and desperate as he grabs at her and she claws at him as they chase their release in each other’s skin. When Emily let’s out a sound close to a whine and her pussy starts to clench around him, Aaron groans against her neck, his teeth digging into the soft skin there.

“Come with me.” She pants through blurry pleasure and she feels him nodding. The feeling of his labored breathing against her neck and the feeling of him inside of her as he grips her hard enough to bruise, is sensory overload and she comes only a few minutes later, clinging to his sweaty body.

“Jesus Christ, Em.” He hisses as his orgasm hits him like a freight train, knocking the wind completely out of him as his hips stutter against hers and pleasure makes his knees buckle. The way her center is still trembling around him draws out his pleasure, the feeling of release close to euphoric as he tries to catch his breath.

She isn’t sure how long they stay like that but when Aaron takes a step back she can see the relaxation, can see how much he needed this and she smiles at him.

“I should come in here more often.” She stands on slightly unsteady legs and wraps her arms around his neck.

“I don’t know, I might not be able to focus on work in here ever again.” He nuzzled her nose with his as she laughs before kissing her. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She stamps another kiss to his lips and then sees the knowing look on his face.

“You know exactly what, you brat.” He tickles her waist quickly before pulling her against him. “Come one, lets shower and then I’m having you sit on my face until I’ve had my fill.”

She’s never headed to the shower that quick in her life.

[iphigeniainaulis]

Spirit of Sadness*

Can't believe it's already the third anniversary of the @flash-exchange 💛 This is my gift for lovely @rinaririr. I hope it will remind you how strong and talented you are!

Character: Leonardo

Prompt: You cannot see the light without darkness

*the title of Le Gallienne's poem

Today is that day. 

Human life iridesces like a diamond in the sun. Versatile, bright and eternally beautiful. But when the rain comes, even gems get dirt on them. 

You can't call yourself a sad person. Surely, life gives you lots of lemons, but somehow you’ve learned to make the very best lemonade out of them. Most of the time, at least. 

Yet, sometimes days like this occur. When suddenly the last pack of sugar is gone, and lemons are sour. When the rainfall turns the golden forest in front of Comte’s mansion into a mess of dirty green and ochre. When the brush in your hand no longer follows your command no matter how much you dip it into the deep blueness of oil paints. 

Covering your face with your hands, you try to find a specific rhythm to breathe. Darkness makes your senses stronger, ears and nose catching what eyes can't see. The sound of old wooden clocks. The cracking of the fireplace. Time runs but moves nowhere, so you give yourself permission to cry, warming icy hands with hot tears.

A sudden rush of wind brings you the smell of wet leaves and the melancholy of autumn. Being forced to hang in the air for a split second, you end up in the comfort of your lover's embrace, covered from tip to toe with his endlessly long, endlessly wide coat.   

“He’s caught in the rain. That's why the scent of cigarillos didn't warn me of his presence,” is the only rational thought produced by your tired mind.

“What’s happened?” he sounds unbothered. His long calloused fingers are playing with your hair, a habit he shows when feels nervous.

You’re searching for the right words to come, and Leonardo gladly gives you as much time as you need, lulling you with deep murmuring and gentle touches. 

At some point you accept your defeat and say what’s been on your mind for quite a long time.

“It’s just that sometimes I feel so much doing so little. Today I haven’t drawn a single sketch. But time goes by, and I feel as if it leaves me behind, while others live their lives to the fullest.”

Wiping a tear, you continue.

“And it makes me feel so guilty, so ashamed of myself. The world is full of so many problems that are way more important than mine. Still, I can't get rid of this pain, and it scares me that someday…this dark feeling will never leave.”

You’ve run out of words, and the last of them vanish in the air like the sound of cork pulling out of an emptied bottle. The silence isn't uncomfortable, and you’re grateful that Leonardo allows you to come to yourself.  

The room becomes less dark when he lights a cigarette, creating a puff of sweet smoke. The man’s deep voice sounds like a lullaby, and you press yourself closer to his wide chest, where it’s safe, where it's home.

“I’m an engineer, cara mia, and hardly know a thing about art and stuff.”

A weak smile, the only one you’ve had on this never ending day, carves your lips.

“...but lemme say this. No vehicle is safe to use if you ignore the rumble. Humans are way more difficult than vehicles. And so are their feelings. Learn to accept them, reveal them, that's the only way you don't destroy yourself from within. Happiness doesn't come when sadness is neglected.”

“So, in other words…you cannot see the light without darkness?” you mumble, enjoying the feeling of his voice, scent, words and touch getting through your skin.

A hoarse chuckle is your response. “Couldn’t say it better. You’re good with your words, principessa.”

You slowly sink into the healing yet still so painful abyss of dreams, listening to the melody of Leonardo’s heartbeat. His arms are on your waist, warm, almost hot. Lumiere’s tail tickles your legs. The night is finally kind. 

There are indeed days when you have to face your demons. But if you have people ready to stand with you no matter what, then this battle is worth fighting.   

[boredzillenial]

Coworkers

You and your new coworker find yourself in an awkward position. (Continuation of “Is That My Shirt?”)

Themes: college AU, Moon boys are in separate bodies, f!reader, ridiculous amounts of awkwardness in the library, momentary NSFW, kissing

Wordcount: 2.1k

That was rough. You’d managed to slip past Marc’s confused stance while Jake was chasing Steven down the hall. For the last week you’d been ignoring Jake’s persistent texts teasing you about Steven along with his repeated Venmo requests for the coffee. You were sure sooner or later they’d corner you in one of the many buildings on campus. For now you hid in the one place neither Jake or Marc would go, the library.

Deep in the bowels of the staff area you sorted through a pile of returned book carts, getting everything together as orderly as you can when the familiar tone of your supervisor cuts the silence.

“Hey hey, figured you could use some help.” Her tone betrays that she is about pawn some sort of responsibility onto rather than help.

You didn’t bother looking up when you reply “Oh, hey Donna.”

“This is Stevie, I need you to show him the ropes. Thankssss.” Her voice fades as you hear her footsteps disappear. This can’t be happening this can’t possibly be-

A familiar soft voice interrupts your internal panic, “Hello, sorry I didn’t realize you work here…” You look up slowly, taking in his oversized sweater and slacks. His curls are a bit disheveled and he’s got some dark circles under his eyes.

“Hi Steven,” you try to tilt your voice up a bit, it wasn’t his fault Jake was giving you such a hard time. Judging by how tired he looks he’s probably getting the same treatment.

His eyebrows furrow a bit, worry flashing across his features as he wrung his hands. “I don’t wanna make your work difficult. If you’d like me to leave I can.” He takes a breath and stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking awkwardly at the stacks of books, “No where else on campus is hiring currently but, I can find something.” He shrugs.

You take a deep breath of your own as you watch him, pity pushing you to a choice that definitely wasn’t in your best interest. “No, don’t do that I - I think we can make this work. We can at least try right? I mean nothing really happened.”

He can’t hide the bit of excitement that flashes across his face at your decision. “Yeah? Thank you. You won’t regret this I promise.” His growing smile pulls a twitch at the corner of your own lips before you can tamp it down. You didn’t exactly like how much you were enjoying his enjoyment.

“Come on, grab a cart we gotta return these to the shelves.” You point to a cart and wheel your way out of the backroom and into the main entryway. “I like to go floor by floor. All of these are first floor. I want you to take your time, pay super close attention to the numbers on the spine so you put them in the right spot.”

He nods, his expression a little too serious as he listens to your instructions. “I won’t let you down.” He sounds as if you’re sending him off on a war mission. You chuckle a little at how concentrated he looks as he starts at the first book on the cart and wheels around to find its proper place. You make your way over to the elevator, off to put away the cart full of books for the second floor.

One Week Passes

Steven’s first week at the library is uneventful. He made a few mistakes here and there but he’s really getting to know his way around the first floor. Full of mostly fiction, children’s books, and DVDs the occasional student rents.

Though Steven had been hard at work at his tasks for this past week you couldn’t help but watch him. I mean you were supposed to keep an eye on him. But your gaze lingered in a way that disquieted you. That cuddle session hadn’t meant anything, it couldn’t. You kept your distance as you watched.

But now Donna has decided he should take on more responsibility, and help you on the higher floors. Full of medical journals, textbooks, and stressed students. Anxiety began to fill your gut.

“That one.” You point at a cart and make your way a little too quickly to the elevator. Trying to steady your erratic heart you take a deep breath. You can hear Steven’s light trot behind you and the squeaky wheels of his own cart as he catches up.

“You alright?” He asks gently as he stands beside you. Close beside you, why was he nearly touching your shoulder with his own Jesus Christ.

“Yeah fine, why.” You force a light tone which, judging by his face he catches immediately. The elevator dings and you both make your way into the cramped space.

“It’s just, you’ve been a bit short today. Didn’t know if anything was wrong or if - if I was doing somethin’ wrong?” He looks at you with a mixture of a plea and cringe at what you might say.

“You’ve been doing fine, great actually.” You say softly as you hit the button for the third floor. The doors close infront of you, the shiny metal reflecting you both. You meet Steven’s gaze in the reflection, you heart thundering so hard you began to wonder if he could hear it, “That’s why Donna wants you to help up here.”

His gaze shifts in the mirrored door, settling on you directly. “Do - do you want me to help up here?” You meet his gaze, brows tilting up at his sincerity.

“I -“ your sentence cuts short when the doors open, you quickly scoot out of the cramped space and disappear into the stacks.

You think you’ve momentarily freed yourself from the awkwardness of the elevator till you hear Steven clear his throat behind you. “I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable-“ you whip around and he throws his hands up in surrender “I’d just like to know if I should make myself scarce yeah?” He whispers.

You take another steadying breath, “You’re fine Steven, I’m just having a tough day. Let’s knock this floor out, we’ve got more carts waiting downstairs.” You whisper back to him.

He nods once and takes a look at his cart, picking a textbook off and sorting it carefully on the shelf. As you both begin your work in that aisle you hear a soft, rhythmic creaking. Confusion furrows Steven’s brow as you feel like your heart is about to jump out of your throat.

“What’s that?” He whispers and looks toward the direction of the noise.

You sigh and pinch your brow to gather your nerves, “Just, brace yourself.” You both silently shift through the stacks toward the noise. Please don’t be what you think it is for the love of everything please.

You make your way to a small seating area in the very back. When you look across the sets of conjoined carrel desks you don’t see anyone at first. But what you hear struck a nerve in your core. A muffled whimper and the wet, soft, steady sound of skin hitting skin.

An unintelligible look crosses Steven’s face as he blushes. Normally, you’d just drop a heavy textbook to send horny students scattering in different directions. But what you saw shocks you, Steven was creeping toward the sound.

Dumbfounded you follow behind him. Curious as to what the fuck he thought he was gonna do. Steven froze just as he must’ve caught a glimpse and when you round the corner you see exactly why.

There was Jake, rutting into a girl bent over the desk, one hand clasped over her mouth. His other hand gripping her exposed breast, twisting her nipple in tandem with his thrusts.

“Jake!” You gasp, the girl beneath him jolts and looks at you with wide eyes. Jake however, only slows his thrusts momentarily. Keeping her pinned in place as he looks at you.

“Give me five minutes and I won’t give either of you any more shit.” His mixture of a growl and a whisper send lighting through your nerves. It must’ve done the same to her as she whimpers beneath his hand.

You shake your head, grabbing Steven’s arm and dragging him quickly back into the stacks.

“I can’t believe - does that happen a lot?” Steven stammers, that ruddy hue across his cheeks spreads to his ears. His eyes are a bit wide and his breathing shallow.

“From time to time, usually very late at night and never Jake. I didn’t even know he knew there was a library on campus.” You try to joke, to somehow break this awkward heated tension thrust onto both of you. Was Steven as turned on from what you both witnessed as you are? A quick glance down confirms your question.

Steven returns your awkward laugh with his own as he follows you back to your carts. You hoping to whatever god will listen that your underwear will hold all the slickness pooling in them. At one point you could’ve sworn you saw Steven turn away from you to adjust himself, his bulge a little less noticeable once he turned back.

You both work in silence for the rest of your shift, but there’s something different in the air surrounding you two. Steven keeps brushing against you. Whether it be back to back as he moves past you, or the back of his hand grazing yours as he stands beside you. You shake your head to try to clear it. He was probably just distracted from earlier.

You catch his eye for a moment, a flush returns across his cheeks as he quickly looks away. “You alright?” You ask softly.

“Yeah, it’s not the first time I’ve walked in on Jake with a girl.” He tries to shrug but the movement comes off awkward. “It’s just -“ he starts to say but quickly stops himself.

“Hey, we don’t have to talk about it.” You put a gentle hand on his arm, squeezing the soft fabric of his sweater and feeling his toned muscles beneath.

“It’s embarrassing really but, Jake won’t come off it. I kinda feel like he’s doin’ it on purpose sometimes. Like some sort of weird motivation to get me to-“ he stops himself again, the blush spreading to his ears again “get me to lose my…”

“Oh, you’re a…” you aren’t quite sure how to finish that sentence. Virginity was nothing to be embarrassed about but with Jake’s behavior you’re sure Steven must get an earful.

“Yeah, I just haven’t found the right person yet. Most people are such knobs I just-“ his voice trails off as he rubs the back of his neck. His mixed look of frustration and hesitancy stirs something in you. “I’m not looking for some big romantic thing at this point. I wanna get it over with, just to say I’ve done it.” He rubs his hands across his face.

“I could -“ the words jump out before you can stop yourself.

Embarrassment roils in your stomach, did you seriously just offer to-

“You’d do that f’me?” He says softly, his eyes matching his tone with an edge of something else. Something a bit hungrier. “I don’t wanna make things awkward for you, with Marc and Jake I mean.”

“Oh I think Jake and I are pretty even now. In fact.” You pull out your phone. Deny his latest insistent Venmo request and make one of your own:

$20 : you know why.

You look up to Steven just inches infront of you. His deep brown gaze locked on your lips, his breathing uneven. “Can I?”

“Ye-“ before you even finish his lips are crashing into yours, his hands gripping your face in an almost too firm grip. The sheer intensity, the hunger of his kiss draws a moan from you.

You feel him shiver, returning your moan with one of his own as he pushes you against the bookshelf behind you. The force of it knocking a few textbooks loose and landing with loud thuds. You jolt for a moment, “Steven hang on-“

“I can’t,” he kisses you again, snaking a hand behind your head to hold you against his lips. You feel his tongue glide against your lips, causing you to groan. Gods you can’t believe what’s happening right now as you put your hands firmly on his chest and break the kiss.

“You have to.” You whisper firmly. His pupils are blown wide and his chest is heaving as he just manages a nod.

“Oh-okay.” He brushes loose curls out of his face as he takes a shaky breath. “When can we, y’know.”

You catch your own breath as you contemplate for a moment, “I’ll text my roomie to sleep somewhere else tonight. She owes me a favor.”

————

MoonKnight Bingo Masterlist

Taglist: @moonknight-events @melodygatesauthor @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ominoose @romana-after-dark @lunar-ghoulie @flowercrownonapegion @howellatme @mooksmouse @ahookedheroespureheart @beezusvreeland @auntiegigi @moonkxit @faretheeoscar

[darkfairiefey]

♡ Yandere Alphabet with Noob Saibot ♡

pairing: noob saibot (mk11) x gender neutral!reader

content warning: toxic/abusive relationship, yandere themes, slight necrophilia, murder, abduction, mentions of starvation, stalking

author notes: i do NOT condone this behaviour in real life and neither should you

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Noob Saibot’s idea of love and affection is as darkly twisted as ever. Dancing with the darkness and the dead? Exploring the graveyards or body filled battlefields? All those are possible with this phantom of death.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

“How messy would they get” He’s literally a silhouette made of absolute shadow. What do you mean he wouldn’t get messy? The moment another mortal even talks to you, the next few minutes will be painful. And he’s perfectly capable of killing others right in front of your face. According to him, you don’t need others, as you already have him.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He would absolutely mock his darling for even daring to step into his path, or for even trying to escape. In general, being kidnapped by him is an inevitable fate one slips into and never escapes from.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

This phantom has a lot of options in his hands to make you do against your will, such as force feeding you flesh and bone, dancing with your dead body, etc.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Although he does show off a few actions of affection, most of his heart is corrupted enough that there’s barely any real feelings there.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

This shit amuses him to no end. His “perfected” form may not be impossible to fight against, but it’s still incredibly difficult. And he has no qualms in killing you if you get on his nerves, so you better watch yourself.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Noob Saibot LOVES games. Nothing amuses Saibot more than watching his darling try to escape from his grasp. 

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Everything. Absolutely EVERYTHING. Good fucking god, this shadow is just so damn cruel, that even hanging around with him for one second feels like hell. 

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Noob believes that you and him should be together forever, even through life and death, and the aftermath and the afterlife.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Bi-Han was already a jealous man, but oh boy, Noob is so much worse. Anyone that even looks at you is pretty dead from the start.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He pretty much the same way he does around everyone else: cruel, ruthless, and utterly merciless. Although he does attempt to tone it down when he’s around you, maybe so you recognize him more, or to lull you into a false sense of security.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He’d try to lure you into a false sense of comfort, by trying to act like the old him, just so you can remember him the same way, before declaring that you’re his forever.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

The newly “perfected” Saibot acts this way around pretty much everyone, but especially to his former allies, including you. 

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

This evil phantom just loves to torture you, punish you, and make you his toy. Punishments may include: starving you, cutting you, forcing you to eat flesh and other gross stuff, etc.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

You poor thing, so many rights of yours would be taken away from you, the right to eat proper food, the right to talk to others, the right to speak your own truth, etc.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Just like Bi-Han, his patience is as thin as a pencil. Don’t even bother trying to talk back to him, as he already has a lot of punishments under his sleeve.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Absolutely not. You’re his, and you know that. And he doesn’t care if you die, as he is already using your dead body as his personal toy.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

As Bi-Han, he may have a few regrets in abducting you, but all that goes out the window the moment he becomes Noob Saibot. And I want you listen to him when he tells you this: He. Will. Never. Let. You. Go.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Bi-Han’s death wasn’t the end of him. His sudden resurrection as a phantom is an exaggeration of both his personality and his worst traits. If you thought Bi-Han was bad, just wait until you meet his ghost.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Unfortunately, isolating yourself doesn’t seem to work, as he can magically appear next to you at any moment possible. And don’t bother screaming or crying either, as this just amuses him even more.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Most yanderes have some sort of facade they use to fool others. With someone like Noob, he doesn’t need to fool others into thinking that they belong elsewhere, because he’s already endlessly cruel from the core.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His darling can exploit as many weaknesses as they want, but all those roads lead to the same path in the end. And don’t you dare talk about Bi-Han. That name is dead to him.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Hoo boy, this son of a bitch could literally kill you just because he loves you. If he’s feeling especially cruel, he may as well kill you the moment you first cross paths with him, just so you and him can be together forever.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He doesn’t really worship you, he’d rather be it that YOU worship him instead. Transforming into this monstrous phantom has really inflated his ego. And he would go WAY too far to win you over, from killing your friends and relatives, to even killing you and claiming your body as his own plaything.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

It would probably take about a week for him to fully lose his patience. If he does lose his patience, RUN.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Absolutely. Noob’s cruelty knows no end, so dragging you into the mindfuck fantasies of his corrupted mind will most definitely break you. It’s not like he cares though, it amuses him.