#or if it just. spills out that they were the one who did it

[beanarie]

of course

in which the helicopter crashed with both our guys inside. inspired by this awesome post by @mooshkat

(tw: vomiting, heart issues, near death angst, biphobia mention)

~

Once the wave of agony subsides, and Tommy is reasonably sure he's done vomiting into the dirt, he blinks over at Evan appraisingly. "Is your arm broken or did your shoulder go out again?"

Evan grimaces and finishes tying off Tommy's splint. "Shoulder. And my hip's not feeling great. Cracked rib, maybe two. But of course you had to outdo me."

"Didn't do it on purpose." Tommy glares at the spot where his tibia poked through the skin, like he can intimidate the pain away. "Anyway you've got me on quantity."

"There's nothing else?"

"My head hurts," Tommy admits, "but there's not much we can do for that right now."

Evan leans in to compare his pupils. Tommy is very proud of himself for not flinching. "Dispatch had our location?" Evan asks, and instead of reminding him that he was there when they confirmed it, Tommy nods.

He knows he can't go to sleep, even if the leg would allow him. He finds a stick and starts tic tac toe. Evan chuckles and joins in.

He wins the next two games. Tommy blames his probable concussion.

Evan holds his bad arm tight around his midsection, but his eyes seem stormy for a different reason. "These people who hurt you in the past, what- what are their names?"

"Huh?" Tommy gives up on the game, scratching it out of the dirt. "You want a full list of legal names or just what I called them?"

"Was it Evan, for any of them?"

God, he's so transparent. Tommy laughs.

"Do you- do you judge everyone by who came before? Is that just what you do in a-all situations? One barista spilled coffee on you in 2011 and you pay for Starbucks with one of those grabby reacher things ever since?"

"Fuck's sake." Tommy doesn't even like Starbucks, but he doesn't say that.

Evan sort of shrugs before he remembers his shoulder with a wince. "It's not generally considered a sign of maturity. Ironic, I guess."

"Yeah, call me old. See where it gets you."

Evan brightens. "You're talking to me. I like my results so far."

There's something indefatigable about this man. Tommy can't help but surrender in the face of it, just a little. "How did you know I'd have to pinch hit for this fly along?"

"I didn't. I just hoped." His grin is just the slightest bit abashed. "Worst case scenario, get out of the engine for a day and I pump one of your coworkers for info."

"They have very little to pump," Tommy says. Evan and the codependent 118 are the aberration, and they're well aware of that. Tommy has great coworkers. They do their jobs and leave, with the exception of drinks once or twice a month. None of them gave him shit after the breakup. Few of them noticed. This is how most teams operate. Evan, however, looks surprised and a little sad. "What were you hoping to hear?"

"I don't know." Evan looks away, suddenly self conscious. "That you messed yourself up at least half as much as you did me."

Tommy rubs at his face. "I didn't mean to mess you up, Buck. Truly. We- It just ran its course. It doesn't reflect badly on you, or me. This just happens."

He looks upset at first, then calculating. "What if I hooked up with those Not-Evans?"

Tommy looks behind him, searching for something that makes sense. "What if you moved to the moon? I have no idea what you're getting at right now."

"Would I be experienced enough for you if I let them have a go? They were terrible for you, so it stands to reason they'll be terrible for me, too." He lifts a finger, his eyes lighting up in a way that turns Tommy's stomach. "Oh, I guess one or two of those might be women. They don't count. Some might be bi and married to women. Do they count as half? If I bag a threesome, is that like seventy-five percent? Do you give points for polyamory?"

Tommy feels about eighty years old, and not a fit eighty. "When did I say even one of those things?"

"The implications were pretty clear, Tommy. 'You're just young and excited. You don't know what you're feeling or how to interpret anything going on in front of you.'"

Tommy doesn't know what to say to that. It's not remotely what he meant, but he's never been good at communicating through panic.

"Did you love me?" Evan asks quietly. Tommy can't look him in the face. "It felt like you- like you did, but when you let me go like that, like chopping off the top bit of a carrot, it made me re- reevaluate everything I thought I knew about us."

The note of devastation in his voice almost tips him over, but ultimately what does it is the implication that Tommy made Evan lose faith in himself. He can't abide being responsible for that. "Of course I love you, Evan. How could I not?"

The tightness in his chest, that felt so much like raw emotion, intensifies, growing sharper. It's hard to breathe now, like sucking a milkshake through a coffee stirrer, and he realizes, something is very wrong. About as wrong as it could possibly be.

"Oh," he says. An attempt to inflate his lungs all the way makes his vision go sparkly at the edges.

"Tommy?"

Tommy drags his eyes up to meet Evan's. "S- Sorry, I-" I wouldn't have said any of those things if I knew. "Sorry. Evan." You deserve better than a fucking deathbed love confession.

A rough hand grasps his neck, slowing his descent to the ground. "No, hey. Hey hey hey. Tommy, we'll figure this out." Evan sniffles and tries to smile. His tears are falling everywhere. "You're okay. You're fine. Just keep- keep breathing."

The coffee stirrer is about a millimeter wide. Tommy can feel the muscles in his neck straining like he's deadlifting his own weight. Evan rips Tommy's shirt open and he swears floridly, miserably. They both know what this is; they've seen it in a hundred MVAs. Cardiac tamponade. When his heart gives out from the strain of all the blood surrounding it, chest compressions can be worse than useless. They could punch his ticket that much faster.

"Tommy," Evan says, pulling Tommy into his lap. The complaints from his splinted leg are distant, belonging to someone else entirely. Evan's voice is a ragged mess trying to piece itself together. His shoulder and ribs are probably killing him. "Don't run out again. You need to stay. Breathe."

Half a millimeter.

One quarter.

Tommy can't remember what comes after millimeter.

"That's it. I know it's hard, but keep trying. That's all I ask. Just try, okay? Look at me."

Micrometer? Is that it?

Evan's face is shadowed by the sun cresting over his shoulder. Tommy closes his eyes against the glare and is rewarded with a shake.

"Keep your eyes open. Stay with me. Just a little- little bit longer, please."

Fingers are running through his hair, lips are pressing against his forehead, and he thinks he can hear... sirens.

[felibrary]

"i love you, i'm sorry"

pairing: aventurine x reader (gender neutral)

synopsis: aventurine doesn’t know how to handle people being affectionate to him. so eventually, just as everyone leaves him, he’s become the one who leaves the person he cherishes the most—you—before you’re able to leave him first. so then, why is he now in front of your home, asking for another chance?

wordcount: 1.2k | content & warnings: unestablished relationship, situationship 101, aven has commitment issues (surprise), angst if you squint, hurt/comfort , mentions of aven's past (kind of) ; ficlet

tags: @eccentric-planet HERE IT ISSSS!!! (after waiting for like a week or so oops)

author's note: i wrote like half of this during biology, history and french class LMFAO

in his world, love leaves behind traces. 

be it dejection that gnaws at him, and wraps his heart in sorrow or your lips that press against him, finding home in his scarred skin. all of the little things that shaped him into being—they all track back to you.  

gradually, over time, with every gesture of affection exchanged, he fell. his once sleepless nights were cured by lying beside you, and eventually, he peacefully dozed off. that is until morning arrived, the sun greeting him as her rays seeped through the curtains, which made him rise.

alas, bathing in bliss only lasted for so long. the love that streamed through his veins and was pumped into his heart, was daring to spill; aventurine knew that confessing his love to you would come with its consequences. there were rules he set up for himself, but after all, he is no more than a pathological sinner—an individual long forsaken by the gods that reign this world—a helpless soul.

despite harboring feelings for you, he kept those blooming emotions to himself; confined in the depths of his heart. 

so as much as he loved you, it hurt just as much to let you go; leave you behind with no words that offered an explanation for his leaving. 

aventurine’s foundation was built upon being alone—disappearing without leaving a trace has always been in his nature. having to leave and being left behind was nothing new. he was a natural.

eventually, the traces you left behind, etched into his very being, washed away.

kakavasha was a lonely child. the word company has always felt foreign on his tongue, at least when he had to say it aloud in a language other than his own.

presumably, that’s why he felt strangely weak in your hold. how you always persistently, almost desperately, buried your nails into his skin and held him tight—not wanting to let go as if you knew that he’d leave one day; silently slip from your grasp.

it was to be expected that you wouldn’t reach out anymore—he made you leave. 

(it’s for the better he thinks. after all, if you would’ve marched further into his heart you would’ve seen what was hidden in the depths of it—someone with no strong ambitions, and there’d be no point of return. aventurine wouldn’t make a good lover, he’s both too selfish and selfless no in between.)

there hasn’t ever been a verbal confirmation that the two of you were in a relationship. everyone around him, including you just assumed that the two of you were together

but he can’t blame them. all the spare items in his apartment, ranging from a mere toothbrush to items like skincare or using the same candles as you, that’d help you feel more at home. arriving at work together and subtly flirting in the elevator when others were around or kissing in the copy room, weren’t casual things that friends did.

aventurine thought it was easier that way, simply because the thought of putting labels on your relationship felt strange. to him, it felt like a heavy shackle bound to his feet, preventing him from being free.

so why is he now standing at your front door, waiting like a prisoner on death row for their judgment to come?

there’s a faint squeak as you open the door and aventurine shoves his left hand into the pocket of his coat, fiddling with the flower-shop bill. 

before aventurine knows it; and can fully comprehend the solemnity of the situation, you stand in front of him, as beautiful as ever.

“hi,” aventurine breathes out, and only now does he realize how much he’s missed seeing you. instead of answering your gaze drifts over his figure and his surroundings.

he feels hot under your watchful gaze, his body suddenly heating up, and clothes sickly sticking to his skin. “so? what’s your business?” your eyes land on the bouquet of lilies and gardenias he's gripping tightly,  slightly wrinkling the wrapping paper by doing so. 

countless thoughts are running through his head. may i come in? can we talk? i wanted to apologi—

“i love you, i’m sorry.”

his voice croaks and suddenly he feels small. the gut-wrenching feeling of fear that stirred in his stomach whenever you were around made him vulnerable and submissive. it made him bolder—more reckless with his way of words. they twisted and twirled on his tongue, and ultimately something else slipped out. (the truth)

the dismissive sound you make crawls into aventurine’s ears like a parasite creeping on his skin, causing him pain. “you say that after playing a game of push-and-pull with me? aventurine do you hear yourself?” you huff laughingly. “don’t do this to me. i can’t go through this once again,” you express with bitterness in your voice. “you’ll just hurt the both of us.” your tone is meek, but aventurine can hear the strain in your voice and he feels his stomach drop.

he exhales and musters the courage to say something. “i know that this is sudden, moreover, i know that i’ve been beyond horrible to you,” aventurine admits, and he swallows. “i want to apologize. my first apology is that i never apologized sooner.” he diverts his gaze to the ground, head facing the floor like a prisoner being escorted. 

he’s sure that at this point the stems of the flowers he’s bought for you are already kinked from clutching them so hard in his hand. “so, may i come in? i’ll tell you everything. i promise.” aventurine doesn’t dare to look up, at least not yet.

“calling me, whenever you needed me like i’m a pet who listens to every command, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as if you were coaxing me into believing something that was untruthful from the very beginning, and—” frustratedly, you ball your hands into fists. “listen. everything i told you was honest. yes i wasn’t ready for a relationship but that doesn't mean that i didn’t love you.” aventurine forces himself to look up, but immediately regrets it upon seeing your hurt face.

nevertheless, he continues. “i’m still hung up on the past. the thought of being with someone and promising myself to stay with them and committing my time, my life, and my very being scares me. it doesn’t excuse my behavior and actions, no, but i hope that this helps you understand me better.”

“i'm sorry that i didn't confide you in this any sooner. I was scared that you too would leave me. so i thought that if i’d leave first, it wouldn’t hurt as much. but i was wrong, my heart fucking aches when i’m not with you.” he cringes at how fake this sounds. but he’s more bothered about the fact that his heart isn’t only twinging when not with you, but it also might jump out of his ribcage, right here, right now.

you bite down on your bottom lip and contemplate. it's faint and if aventurine hadn’t paid attention, he’d have missed it. the way you mutter dumbass under your breath.” forget it,” you sigh as if reaching your breaking point. “just come in.”

this time, you fully open the door to him and he feels a wave of relief washing over him. “you’ve always been a mystery to me kakavasha.” you whisper, and aventurine’s lips form into a small smile as he trails and follows behind you, into your home.

a mystery, you say?

aventurine makes a promise to himself as he places the flowers into the glass vase you provided him. this time he’d be completely honest with you. about everything and anything.

so here it is — his heart laid bare.

end note: who am i kidding. if he came back to me pleading id also take him back.

also tagging @azullumi because at this point it'd be weird not to do this. i just want to thank you azul. thank you for being an amazing friend. thinking back, i used to have much worse communication skills. avoiding the ones around me or never voicing my problems aloud. but you giving me advice has genuinely inspired and impacted me so much. simply because i wanted to be so much like you cause i looked up to you so much and i still do. and recently those efforts of trying to better my social skills have paid off (kind of). I've become better and more mindful when it comes to people addressing their problems they have with me and thus trying to reflect and change my behavior. but I'm also able to talk about the things that bother me better now, simply because i took your advice. azul you understand me like no other. you take the words out of my mouth and are able to form such beautiful sentences i could never even think of. honestly your way with words is what enamors me the most about you.

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[zara-renata]

Would you love me if I were a worm?

Sylus x gn reader | A stupid, short drabble that got stuck in my head while peeling potatoes yesterday, no warnings

“Sylus, would you love me if I were a worm?”

Sylus doesn’t even look up from the book he’s reading, sprawled on one of the leather couches in his library, the full red moon spilling through the windows and blanketing him in a softly sinister light. “Yes.”

You lift your head and scowl at him from your position stretched out along his long body, hands folded under your chin, resting on his firm stomach.

“You’re not taking the question seriously.”

He lifts a dark silver eyebrow, eyes still not lifting from his book, the gold-rimmed reading glasses he’s wearing glinting in the warm light from the Tiffany lamp next to the couch. “And how did you arrive at that conclusion?”

“If you had actually properly considered it, you would have taken a little more time to answer.”

He finally deigns to look at you over the rims of his glasses. “I gave it the exact amount of attention that such a question deserves.”

“Why doesn’t it deserve more attention? I want to know your answer.”

“And I gave you my answer.” He returns to his book. It’s some pretentious title, about the sociology of ingroups and outgroups, the banality of evil.

“How can I take your answer seriously if you don’t think about it properly?”

He sighs. Looks over his glasses at you again. “You’ve been spending too much time with the twins.”

You sit up, leaning against the armrest of the couch opposite of Sylus. He frowns as you move away. “I don’t think I spend enough time with them, actually. They’re hilarious.”

His frown deepens. “I’m hilarious.”

“No, you’re a pretentious edgelord who won’t properly consider my question.”

“You speak so sweetly to the twins. Where’s that honey when you speak to me?”

“Honeypot’s empty until you tell me why you’d love me if I were a worm.” You prod his thigh with your bare foot.

He sighs again, sets the book on the side table. He takes your foot in his hands and begins to rub it, thumbs gently pressing into your arch. You suppress a moan.

“I’d love you if you were a worm because even as a worm, you are still you. I’d love you in any universe, in any world, in any timeline, in any form.”

You stare at him for a moment. “Now I feel bad about being mean to you.”

“As you should,” he gloats. “How will you make it up to me?”

“No, no. I’m not done.” He continues to caress your foot, one hand drifting up to your ankle, circling it between his thumb and forefinger. “You may love me as a worm, but what would you do with me? And would you seek out company in other people, since I couldn’t provide it to you as a little wiggly worm?”

“I would construct the most extravagant terrarium with all of the most luxurious provisions that a little worm’s heart could desire.” He pauses. “I’d also have to construct some sort of grate to protect you from Mephisto.”

You shudder, thinking about what it would be like to be a worm facing down Mephisto’s ruby stare. “I’d probably just be happy in some dirt,” you say, giving him your other foot. He takes the hint and begins to rub it too.

“Tch. My worm deserves only the finest in compost and enrichment activities in their terrarium. I wouldn’t be happy with just giving you some dirt.”

“Of course, and we must keep his royal snobness happy.”

“See? This is why I love you,” he smiles, just a little. “Even though your tongue is so sharp with me.”

“You’re avoiding the question about seeking other company,” you say, sinking lower into the couch as you enjoy the foot massage.

“What’s the point in answering what is clearly a trick question? You will not be turned into a worm. This whole discussion is a waste of time we could spend doing more interesting things.” He gives you an exaggeratedly lascivious once-over.

“I could be turned into a worm! Modified protocores have resulted in weirder shit happening!”

Sylus sighs yet again in resignation.

“I would miss your human company terribly, but there’s no replacing you,” he says smoothly.

You scowl at him again. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

“Darling, I was fine with my own company until you came into my life. I was fine with my own hand until you came into my life. I’d miss your company, and your sharp tongue, and your blow—”

You jerk one of your feet out of his hands and prod him in his stupid sexy abs. “Okay, okay. I get it.”

“I don’t think you do,” he says, sliding out from under you, dropping to his knees on the plush rug in front of you. He lifts one of your legs over his broad shoulder. “I think a demonstration is in order, of all the things I’ll miss that are irreplaceable, should the unthinkable happen and your lovely human form is reduced to that of a worm. I’ll start.” He lifts your other leg over his shoulder and looks up at you smugly.

You look down at him, heart so full with how much you love him that it hurts. “Promise you’re not lying?”

“When have I ever lied to you, beloved?”

You tilt your head. You think he really would love you if you were a worm.

“I’d love you if you were a worm too, Sy.”

“Oh good, I can stop losing sleep at night,” he says, voice dripping sarcasm. You punish him by tightening your thighs, squishing his handsome face between your knees.

He laughs a little breathlessly. “If you’re trying to encourage me, it’s working, kitten.”

You laugh and release him. “Deviant,” you say affectionately.

“Your deviant,” he says, leaning forward, big palms gliding up your thighs. “Whether you’re a human or a worm, that won’t change.”

[writingmeraki]

patch you right up — a r.c drabble.

★ pairing: rafe cameron x frenemy!reader, enemies to ?? ★ genre: hurt/comfort, unresolved feelings. ★ warnings: cussing, mentions of being drunk, violence, mentions of wounds and treating them. ★ a/n : urm very...random, silly, might not make sense but it was rotting in my mind, lmk what you think <3 ★ w.c : 1.1k

“This was very fucking stupid of me.”

Hissing in pain as the hydrogen peroxide made contact with your torn knuckles on your hand, you held your bruised jaw with the free hand and looked away from the blood glistening because of the light above.

“Oh you don’t say?” His voice was mocking, nothing new but it held an underlying annoyance you could somehow detect. 

Sighing, you pulled your hand abruptly, which earned you a sharp turn of his head in your direction and his dark blue eyes glaring at you, “What are you doing?”

“You don’t have to do this-”

“Shut up.”

“No I mean it, Rafe. It’s my fault, ‘ll patch it up myself.”

It did not help how horrible your head seemed to ache as you shut your eyes briefly, everything felt overwhelming, especially with him being this close to you. Him just anywhere near you was enough to drive you a little over the edge and it seemed to get worse when you had a bit too much liquid courage in your system. 

“Look at me.” You hated how easily you complied as you opened your eyes to find him staring at you, only this time, they were much softer.

That wasn’t hard to do, considering the position you were in. On his impossibly large bathroom counter as he stood between your legs, really you didn’t have much to look at. 

“It’s not your fault, alright?” You spited it when people would always give you fake sentences for the sake of being ‘kind’, it was all sugar coated shit to you. But somehow when Rafe Cameron said that to you, your heart felt like it would combust then and there.

It didn’t help how the daziness was elevated as you scanned his features up close. He was unrealistically beautiful, carved gently.

Because he was who he was, you knew he meant what he said. For all the time you knew him, he was one to be honest. About how he felt, about what he felt and for who he felt. Though, when you questioned yourself what he might feel for you now, you’d say you don’t know.

Nodding along to his words, you leaned to your left, luckily having a wall to support you and not embarrassingly falling, you’d done enough that night. 

Without more words, he gently grabbed your hand and finished cleaning up the burst skin and spilled blood. You once again shut your eyes, this time tightly as you clenched your jaw when he applied ointment.

“ ‘hurts.” The treating part made you wince even more than when you were getting the injury. Probably how most of the adrenaline wore out by now.

“I know, ‘almost done.” He gently spoke up as he concentrated on patching up a bandage around your hand.

A quiet silence filled the space for a moment, and even though you did feel out of it, you could sense he had something to say.

“Why-why’d you do it?” He said as he finished with your hand, instructing you to sit up straight. His hand on your jaw did make you more alert even though he was very…gently doing it. It was colder than you expected, and you were sure he could feel how warm you were getting when he was slowly caressing it with a delicate touch.

“That’s outta bruise badly.” His eyes held remorse and his frown deepened. You didn’t even realize your own gaze lingered on his lips.

Gulping, your eyes darted away from his face. Maybe it was the guilt or the buzz, but you murmured out,

“...I- it was well…It was stupid but I- couldn’t control myself. I got mad.”

His hand paused and he raised an eyebrow in curiosity. This was new. 

“They- they were saying stupid shit. I knew they were doing it to rile me and well they did that just right. It was fine when it was about me, I ignored it but I couldn’t stand the rest.”

Something in his chest flared as his confusion was slowly turning into realization but he continued letting you speak,

“They began talking shit about…about you.” You recalled the tone they used, the words they called him and you could feel the familiar annoyance and anger build up as they replayed in your mind.

“And I couldn’t stand it alright. I just…no one talks shit about you. No one except me. I mean, the fucking audacity to even say those…those things when they’re probably even worse!”

He blinked a few times to make sure he heard you right. You’d looked to the side, scowling as you clicked your tongue.

“Next thing I knew, I’d just hit someone and then the same happened to me. I guess maybe I deserved one but you should see the other idiot’s face.” You finally looked back into his eyes, a slight smile on your face when you recalled hearing the other dude’s nose definitely crunching and you were sure it would never be the same. You’d made it very sure.

He did not know what to feel. Amusement? Shock? Disbelief? But over them all, his heart fluttered wildly as his eyes scanned your face. The same one that had been haunting his mind since the first time he’d seen you, the first time he’d ever have someone make him more mad than anything yet made him want you closer. You were simply driving him insane since he’d met you. 

He just never realized, until now, that maybe he was never the only one who felt the same.

Tilting your head, you licked your lower lip, his gaze moving there for a brief moment, you said, “But you know what?”

One corner of your lip turned up as you smirked lightly, “I don’t regret it. I’d do it again in fact.”

His tongue felt heavy as the words clogged up in his throat, he gulped down the knot formed as he clenched his hand that was beside you, over the counter edge. He stared intently into your eyes, you could feel your heart beating faster as you leaned closer. 

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours as you fluttered your eyes shut, hand going over his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. His hands moved to your hips, pressing into them as if he was afraid you’d disappear and it was all a dream.

It was messy as you’d expect from two people whose own feelings were a mess, your non-injured hand ran over his hair and he groaned into the kiss. You might as well have just combusted then and there. 

Feeling the need to breathe, you gently pulled away, resting your forehead on his as his hand came up to your face, caressing it gently.

“You’re fucking insane, you know that right?” He breathed out as he tried to steady his own breathing and rapidly beating heart.

“Over you? Fuck yeah.”

extra a/n : ...yeah I'm sorry if the uhm kissing part sucked...it's been a very whole while.

all written works as well as images and edits (unless credited) belong to pri. do not plagiarise, repost, re-edit or claim as yours. pics mostly found on pinterest.

writingmeraki Ⓒ 2024

feedback is always appreciated 💌 ! links : main navi ! | misc masterlist | main masterlist | info !

[minswriting]

Do I Wanna Know? - Step-Brother Spencer Reid x Reader

About: It’s not easy fucking for your nerdy and hot step-brother when feelings become involved.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, step-cest, step brother spencer, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, guilt, shame, unspoken pining, etc.

Word Count: 1702

“Have you got color in your cheeks?

Do you ever get that fear that you can’t shift

The type that sticks around like summat in your teeth?

Are there some aces up your sleeve?

Have you no idea that you’re in so deep?

I dreamt about you nearly every night this week.”

Your mother married her husband a few months ago. At a time when they had only been together for a few months but they apparently just “knew” it was meant to be. Who were you to judge, really? If you know, you know. You were just glad that your mother was relatively happy. There was also that added bonus of having a very new step-brother.

Spencer Reid, a profiler for the BAU and now your step-brother, was this nerdy guy. He had an eidetic memory, dressed like a grandpa, and was extremely hot for no reason. The day you met him, you were overwhelmed by his attractiveness. And he was so awkward too, adding to the appeal. You don’t see him often strictly due to his work and the fact that he lives in D.C while you live in Las Vegas. But when he does, it’s as though you’re in heaven. And tomorrow, Spencer is flying out to visit.

“How many secrets can you keep?

‘Cause there’s this tune I found

That makes me think of you somehow

And I play it on repeat

Until I fall asleep

Spilling drinks on my settee.”

Spencer: I can’t wait to see you.

You: I can’t wait to have your face buried between my thighs.

Your phone buzzed with another text.

Spencer: That will be divine.

You couldn’t help the smirk that traveled on to your face. You remember the first time you ever initiated anything with Spencer. It was a month after the wedding. He had flown back to Las Vegas for a case he was working on and decided to stay at the house rather than in a hotel with his team members. You noticed the way he had looked at you whenever you guys saw one another. Like you were forbidden fruit. But he was always too awkward, too shy to say anything to you. You guys hardly spoke unless necessary.

That was until you cornered him one night after he had gotten back at three in the morning after his case had been concluded. You remember the words you had spoken to him. “I see the way you look at me,” You had said quietly but seductively. That night you had gotten on your knees and gave him the worlds best blow job imaginable. And ever since then, the two of you had a very secret thing going on.

Late night phone calls, sexy photos, videos of one another sent privately. The past few months had been absolutely blissful. The amount of orgasms that you had every week was astounding and you were absolutely never sick of it. Because you got to hear the hot and sexy sounds that Dr. Spencer Reid, your step-brother, make.

As the months had gone on, these late night phone calls would turn into more than just sex. Talks about your days, life, books you both had been reading, the shows you’ve been watching. What was supposed to be nothing more than physical was slowly becoming emotional. At least for you. These days you often wonder if Spencer felt a similar way. But that didn’t matter as much. You would never allow yourself to cross the emotional territory. Or at least you’d never actively admit it.

“(Do I wanna know?)

If this feeling flows both ways?

(Sad to see you go)

Was sorta hoping that you’d stay.

(Baby, we both know)

That the nights were mainly made

For saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.”

The day Spencer had arrived, you spent the day teasing him. You wore a red dress that covered just enough to be considered appropriate. But if you bent over in the slightest, which you certainly did, you could see the sexy red lingerie set you wore underneath, Spencer’s absolute favorite on you. He hadn’t had the opportunity to see it in person until now. After your family dinner and your parents had gone to bed, you had dragged Spencer to the bedroom, not even bothering to take your time.

Maybe it’s the way his tongue moves around your cunt, lapping up your juices. Or the way Spencer sucks on your clit, doing whatever he can to bring you the most pleasure. All you know is that you have to try your damn hardest to keep quiet, to make sure neither your mother or his father wake up to hear what their children are up to. Spencer’s face is buried in your pussy, tonguing your hole while his nose runs against your clit. If hell were real, you definitely would be going with how much you enjoy fucking your step-brother. And it would be absolutely worth it if you get to live this lifetime underneath Spencer.

When you finish twice from his tongue, Spencer finally removes his face from your cunt. His face glimmering from your juices as he reaches his hands to undo his shirt. You were already naked, something Spencer had done as soon as you closed the door of the bedroom. As he took off his shirt, Spencer licked his lips, looking at you with a look that you couldn’t quite interpret.

You knew this was wrong. So ridiculously wrong. He was practically family, at least legally. He was supposed to be your brother, someone you can depend on. Well you certainly depend on Spencer for something. And it’s certainly not for anything family friendly either. You’ve tried calling it quits. Three weeks in, you tried leaving it be by not calling Spencer or texting him. You only lasted a day before you started craving him again.

“Crawling back to you

Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few?

‘Cause I always do.

Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.

Now, I’ve thought it through

Crawling back to you.”

With you laying on your back while Spencer pounds into you like his life depended on it, you were absolutely trying so hard not to moan like the slut you know you are. You had a fist to your mouth while you looked at Spencer, who was leaned over you, arms on either side of your head, while his cock was thrusting in and out of your tight pussy.

“You’re so wet,” Spencer whispered shakily, looking at you in your eyes. “So tight. I could be buried inside you forever.”

You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped your lips as you looked back up at Spencer. The look in his eye. the one you can’t quite put a name to, was still there. Lust? Guilt? Love? It couldn’t possibly be the last one.

“Have you got the guts?

Been wondering if your heart’s still open

And if so, I wanna know what time it shuts

Simmer down and pucker up

I’m so sorry to interrupt, it’s just I’m constantly on the cusp

Of trying to kiss you

I don’t know if you feel the same way as I do

But we could be together if you wanted to.”

His lips went to yours, kissing you like you were his last breath and he needed you to hold on for life. His cock plunging into you at a rapid pace. The room was filled with the rhythmic sound of skin slapping skin and the wet sounds of your pussy. Had your mother and his father been awake, they’d certainly question the noises going on.

“(Do I wanna know)

If this feeling flows both ways?

(Sad to see you go)

Was sorta hoping that you'd stay

(Baby, we both know)

That the nights were mainly made

For saying things that you can't say tomorrow day

Crawling back to you (crawling back to you)

Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? (You've had a few?)

'Cause I always do ('cause I always do)

Maybe I'm too (maybe I'm too busy)

Busy being yours (being yours)

To fall for somebody new

Now, I've thought it through

Crawling back to you”

You could feel the heat building in your abdomen as Spencer’s cock hit your g-spot repeatedly. “Oh fuck,” you whisper moaned, breaking off the kiss. “So close, Spence.”

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he whispered back. “Cum for me like a good girl.” He continued his movements, fucking you to completion.

You let out a whine, trying hard to not be loud as your orgasm grew closer. Spencer reached down between the two of you, rubbing your clit. And you gasped loudly, bringing your hand back to your mouth as your walls tightened around Spencer’s cock. Within seconds you were cumming, hard, spilling your juices onto his cock and onto the mattress. Your back arched as you came, your toes curling from the best orgasm you’ve ever had.

Spencer followed you, cumming inside of you with ropes and ropes of his cum, filling you with not a single care in the world. Maybe it was a sick thought on his part. Maybe if he got you pregnant, he could finally claim you as his. Or maybe that was just your fantasy. You were on the pill, it was very unlikely.

Afterwards, it’s the cuddling. The soft words spoken about how beautiful you are and how good you did that make your heart flutter in your chest. The way Spencer looked at you with that same look. And in your heart you absolutely knew what that look was. Love. Adoration. Mesmerized by you. Your step-brother loved you. Just like you loved him.

But you’d never admit it out loud. Neither of you would. Because your circumstances wouldn’t allow for such a thing to happen.

So in the shadows you guys remain, caught in your own little bubble where it’s nothing more than sex. But the calls while he’s away become more frequent, more about missing one another and wanting to hear each other. Many words spoken and yet many remained unspoken. Just as it will remain.

[angelltheninth]

Gentle Prince

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, cuddlefucking, aftercare, cockwarming, breeding kink, marks, creampie, caring!Daemon, husband!Daemon

Word count: 0.6k

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters

A/N: It's gonna be nothing but smut these next few days I'm afraid.

His breath is still hot against your ear, his grunts sending more tingles down your spine as his hands finally loosen their hold on your hips. He pulls away, his forehead briefly leaning against yours, "I'm afraid I got a little carried away with you darling. How do you feel?" His eyes are still almost entirely backed out, his lips grazing your own, almost making you want more.

You would take more if you could. "Tired." You breathe out a sigh, "I think we both got carried away. I can't even move. My body feels so heavy. But it's a good kind." Daemon huffs out a lough as he leans down a kisses your cheek.

You feel him shifting on top of you and instinctively wrap your legs around him. The fact that you did it so easily, without him even asking just goes to show how used you are to doing so.

"It's alright sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere. I'll stay right here. Inside you where I belong." He jolts his hips into you, making you gasp from how overstimulated you are, "Where my cum belongs."

You tighten around him, just thinking about feeling so full for the rest of the night makes your head spin and your body light up from the inside all over again. "Then maybe you should stay put, my prince."

"I plan to. But that doesn't mean my hands or mouth have to be. I have much to make up for. All these bruises and marks on you, someone has to kiss them better. It's my job as your husband to take care of you after all." He leans down and kisses the bite mark on your neck as his hands smooth over your bruised hips, down to massage your tense thighs, "To worship you."

For a few minutes you allow your body to relax, to enjoy the soft kisses and touches. The way he touches you now is so different from before. He was almost feral, rutting into you, telling you how good you look underneath him, full of his cock, how well he did to chose you, how good you are at taking his seed, how pretty you'll look when you're properly breed by him, cum spilling out everywhere between your trembling legs.

He treated you like he wanted to break you in half. And now he's being so gentle, the only evidence of the wild lovemaking being the marks he left, the warm cum filling up your pussy hole and the messy sheets and pillows.

"Darling... hm... you're going to get me hard again if you keep fluttering around me like that. Are you that insatiable?" You can hear the strain, as well as the slight anticipation in Daemon's voice. And if the slight throb of his dick is anything to go by he wouldn't mind going again either.

"Me? I was not the one who fucked the other back into consciousness. Do you have any idea what that feels like? How long was I out for anyways?" Daemon tilts his head a little, his damp hair falling over his forehead before you run your fingers through it.

"Thank you love." He closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth and comfort of your touch, "To answer your questions, you were out for a very short time. I barely had the time to get myself hard again. And no, I cannot say I've ever been fucked back into consciousness. Perhaps we should try it sometime, if you think you think you can make me black out that is."

You smirk and run your hands down his back, making him his as you press the pads of your fingers across the scratch marks you made there, "I'm always up for a challenge."

Daemon smiles, not grins but smiles, so soft and bright that one would not think him capable of it just going off rumors of him. You certainly didn't see him capable of such soft gestured when you first met. You've very glad that you decided to stick around to find out about them.

[smartkookiee]

Wounds We Never Show // Ch.5 — jjk.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・ ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/they, afab) ❥genre/rating: 18 +explicit content, enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers, enemies with benefits ❥chapter warnings/tags: Drinking, Swearing, Fighting, morning after regrets, flashbacks(2x) , mentions of cheating, previous relationship trauma, college flashback, stupid ex boyfriend, bothering yoongi (cause he deserves to be bothered), vic laughs in your face, yeah more confusing feelings ❥word-count: 8.8k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter fic is cross posted to ao3 send an ask or comment on post to be added to the taglist! .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Four Years Ago - Just before Melanie and Namjoon met. 

“Holy shit.” You set down your drink on the table. Your eyes landing on Jungkook, who just happened to enter the same bar you and your friends decided to have a night out at. 

Who you haven’t seen in a year.

It was just a casual outing and you had a rough shift so a few drinks were going to hit the spot for you right now. You and Melanie invited Ash to join you to hang out. She was a new friend to the both of you and you really wanted to get to know her better. No better way than to have a few drinks and sit and talk.

Ash, glanced in the direction you were looking. “What is it?” 

You shake your head and take another sip of your drink, tracking Jungkook across the bar as he seemed to greet some guys he seemed to know. 

“Oh it’s nothing. Just some guy I knew in college.” You try to brush it off, tracing the rim of your drink. The past frustrations are bubbling up.

“Which one?” Melanie leaned close, as you pointing him out subtly trying not to pull focus to your little group. “Oh wow. He’s cute, did you guys date or something?” 

You stifle a laugh, “No, I fucking hate that guy.” 

“What happened?” Ash tilted her head glancing over to Jungkook. Her curiosity peaked. 

“Oh it’s a long story.” You wave your hand trying to breeze past to another subject. 

“Oh come on spill.” Melanie bumped her shoulder into yours, encouraging you to open up. You and Melanie had only known each other a few months and although you had gotten close pretty quickly. This Jungkook thing was old news and not something you even had to worry about anymore.

“He’s just an ass. We got into a huge fight and I said some things, he said some things and we can’t stand each other. This is the first time I’ve seen him since.” You try to keep the details as vague as possible.

“Damn that sucks.” Melanie nodded, “It wasn’t’ like a secret love affair or something scandalous like that?” She teased and your eyes shot open in shock.

“Yeah if I ever sleep with that guy, someone needs to get me a brain scan because something is seriously wrong with me.” You laughed giving a nonchalant wave of your hand, as if brushing off the question.

Ash pursed her lips, “I mean… He’s cute so maybe you would be totally sane.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Present Day

“Awe crap.” Jungkook ran a hand over his face as he sat up in his bed. The whole night comes back in a quick flash. 

It was real though… the two of you had slept together… again.

You sat in a frustrated but dumbfounded daze next to him. Silent, staring at the ground. Recounting every single step from the night before. How Jungkook found you buried in the sea of people. Helped you get to the bathroom, one second you were fighting and then the next… 

You both stayed silent like this for just a moment before you took the pillow behind you swinging it around to hit Jungkook. “You idiot.” 

Jungkook blocked himself from getting hit in just enough time. “What?” 

You swung the pillow again, hitting his arms with a thud. “Stupid dumb idiot.” You really weren’t sure if you were saying this to him or to yourself now. Felt good to take the frustration out on him with the pillow. 

“You think I planned this!” Jungkook spat back with you in annoyance, “I’m clearly just as shocked as you are.” You swung the pillow one more time to hit him but this time Jungkook grabs it. “Stop!” 

You get up from the bed with an exaggerated groan, mumbling some things under your breath. You walked and grabbed your pants pulling them back up your legs with some frustration and force. “Shut up. Make me. What the hell was that?” 

As you quickly dressed, your phone slipped out of your pocket and clattered to the floor. You snatched it up, wincing as the screen lit up: almost 9 AM. You didn’t have any pressing plans today, but staying here was the last thing you wanted.

Jungkook got up from his bed. Jungkook, still standing, watched you with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, and what about you? Kiss me, Jungkook.” He pitched his voice in a high, mocking imitation of you.

You shot him an incredulous look, pointing at him angrily. “I do not sound like that.” You storm past him, shoving him, grabbing your bra. “What about you? Let’s get out of here and I prefer a bed.” You pitched your voice as well to mock him back. 

“Well I do.” He nods his head to the side but then shakes his head, “Not the point. You wanted it just as bad as I did.” 

You scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping. “Fine, whatever. Maybe I did. But I swear you placed some demonic spell on me.”

“I should be the one checking myself for hex’s if anything!”  Jungkook says, checking out his arms and chest dramatically. 

You stormed out of the room, your eyes now adjusting to the daylight as you glanced at his apartment. It looked completely different now. His place was so nice and clean. Well put together and he actually had things well decorated. How annoying. Jungkook threw on a pair of sweatpants and followed you down the hallway, his tone turning serious.

You bent down to put on your shoes, frustration bubbling up as you fumbled with the laces. “I don’t do hookups. I’m too busy. What a load of crap!”

Jungkook leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed. “Hey, that’s true! Between the trial I’ve got coming up and all the other crap in my life, I’m genuinely surprised.”

You narrowed your eyes, not slowing down as you tried to shove your other shoe onto your foot. “Yeah, like I’m supposed to believe that.”

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “Says the one who swore after last time this would never happen again.” He looked at you with a smirk, his gaze unwavering. “I remember that pretty clearly. You always keep your word, so what happened?”

You froze mid-motion, turning to face him with a frustrated, exasperated sigh. “I had a lot to drink, my judgement was skewed. Okay?”

Jungkook’s smirk deepened, and he stepped closer, his voice teasing but with an edge of something more. “So did I. Still doesn’t explain why we’re here, does it?”

You paused, a bitter laugh escaping you as you patted your pockets, checking for your keys. “I don’t even know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh at how big of an idiot I am, or cry about ending up in bed with you again.”

You yanked the front door open, spinning on your heel just before it slammed shut, giving him a sarcastic middle finger over your shoulder as you walked away.

Jungkook rolled his eyes, calling after you. “Fuck off!”

The door slammed shut behind you, and you darted down the hallway, the elevator feeling like the only escape. You needed to get out of there, fast. You needed to breathe. To feel something that wasn’t this—whatever this was.

The moment you stepped into the elevator, your mind flooded with flashes from the night before. The elevator doors shut, but in your mind, it felt like you were still there with him, every second replaying itself in vivid detail. You remembered the way he kissed you, the way he touched you, the way your body betrayed you. How you couldn’t keep your hands off each other. You were fighting and then you were in it.

What the hell was that? You didn’t have an answer, only questions swirling in your head.

And why… did it feel so good?

You couldn’t shake the image of his face, between your legs, from your mind for the rest of the day. It lingered with you, haunting every moment. You forced yourself into a cold shower just so you could force yourself to not think about anything other than keeping yourself warm. You tried to stay busy, distracting yourself from the truth that kept creeping back. That whatever skills Jungkook had with his tongue had left its mark on you, and you wouldn’t easily forget it.

You weren’t the only one haunted. 

As good as Jungkook was at pushing things from his mind, this was not something he could easily do this time. He couldn’t get the moments in the bathroom out of his mind, how just for one moment you both just surrendered and you actually laughed at him. Felt like you could be friends almost. You may have looked like friends to anyone else… very complicated friends. 

It’s not like there wasn’t a time when you two couldn’t have been friends. 

In fact there was a time when you were friends, before it all went south. 

Jungkook had been thinking about that time more often lately, about how you two bridged the gap before. Which was really funny to think about now, considering this week. That there ever was a time where you two really got along, and got along well. 

Funny enough it was a pretty similar instance to every time you encountered each other this last week.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Five years ago

You decided a break was long overdue. Between the mountain of homework and David, your ex, relentless texting you, your mind felt like it was on the verge of imploding. A quick walk to the convenience store on the edge of campus seemed like the perfect way to clear your head, just enough to get back to work without screaming into your pillow.

David has been spending weeks trying to get ahold of you. Trying to explain himself again and make you look like an idiot again because he’s convinced you twice to get back together with him, why not one more time? 

The store’s door jingled as you pushed it open, a wave of cool air brushing past you. The cashier barely glanced up from his phone as you headed straight for the energy drinks. Your eyes scanned the rows until you grabbed two cans—one for tonight and one for the impending hell of tomorrow.

You turned, heading to the snacks, but as soon as you rounded the corner of the aisle, you collided with someone.

“Shit—” you muttered, barely managing to keep hold of your drinks.

“Maybe look where you’re going,” came the familiar, clipped voice. Of course coming from Jungkook.

You blinked at him, your stomach twisting with instant irritation. “Oh.”

Jungkook just brushed past you. You had spent several weeks of your project meeting together to work but you had been icing him out. He had tried to smooth things over, even had a friend come and try to decipher what issue you had with him was. You really had nothing to say to your ex’s friends after what happened. Seems Jungkook has finally gotten the hint you didn’t want to be friends and just wanted to get this project over with.

You rolled your eyes, clutching the cans tighter as you moved to the shelf beside him, pretending he wasn’t there. His presence, of course, was hard to ignore, especially when he turned his head to glance at your selection.

Jungkook had become pretty fed up with your cold shoulder. He had tried being nice but your weeks of angry muttering and silence really got under his skin. When he had no idea what he had even done wrong, and with how his week had been going he didn’t really have any patience left for you. He grabbed what he liked but the both of you had ended up in the same aisle again. 

You both took a small glance at what the other had collected. 

“Really? Energy drinks and chips? Healthy.” He remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

Your face twisted in some confusion at his comment,“Really? Beer and a box of instant noodles? Classy,” you shot back without missing a beat, nodding at his haul.

“Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on my diet.” He said, deadpan, before turning his attention to the shelf again.

“I just have eyes.” You grabbed a pack of granola bars and turned to leave, but his voice stopped you.

Jungkook had noticed your recent choice of beverage from your last few meet ups for the project. Always the same and always two. “You know, those won’t magically help you stay awake. Might want to try water—or sleep.”

“Wow. Riveting advice, Jungkook,” you said over your shoulder. “Maybe next time, write a self-help book. Call it How to Be Annoying in Five Easy Steps.”

His lip curled into a half-smirk. “And you’d call yours How to Be Petty Without Even Trying.”

“Catchy,” you shot back. “I’ll let you write the foreword.”

“Pass. I’d rather not waste my time.”

“Then stop talking to me,” you snapped, giving him a pointed glare before brushing past him.

Jungkook leaves you alone, doesn’t even entertain you anymore. That was fine though, you needed to get back to your homework. You checkout with your stuff and get out of there pretty quickly. Pushing the door open, you start home but are immediately greeted with satan in the flesh. 

“Oh god damn it, I cannot catch a break.” A puff of air leaves your lungs, exhaustion setting in. “How did you even know where I was David?”

“Baby I know everything about you. You always come here on your study days. Which is always Thursdays. Around this time.” He says it so matter of fact, because he does know you too well. It made your skin crawl. 

“I’m not your baby.” You try to walk past him but he steps in front of you. “Stop texting,  stop calling, and don’t ever show up somewhere I frequent again. It’s creepy.”

“Please just hear me out.” He starts but you put a hand up to him and push him away.

“No David, because you will make the same promises that you have made me over and over again. Once again making me look stupid. You give me the same stupid speech every time that I ‘am the one’, and it was a ‘mistake’, and that it was ‘just a one time thing’, and that ‘I’m so special to you’, blah blah blah.” You rub the side of your head with your free hand that doesn’t have your bag. 

“I was wrong, every single time I was wrong. I’m here because I know you, I know that in that bag you have two energy drinks because you are going to drink one tonight and you are going to keep one for another day!” He keeps blocking your way, you keep trying to step around him but he’s not going to let you go until he gets his whole speech out. 

“So what? You know one thing about me? Anyone who spends any amount of time around me knows that!” 

“That’s not all. I know you. I know how you look when you are frustrated about something and you scrunch up your nose.” He took a step forward but you maintain the same distance between the both of you. “I know that you say you are a fan of action movies but you much prefer something funny or thought provoking.”

“Please stop.”

“I’m not here to give you the same speech again. I want you. We will graduate and I want the life we talked about forever ago. I’m not making the same promises like before. I will do anything to prove to you I am the most serious I have ever been.” David begged, he was making that same face he made very single time. One that made you believe it but you weren’t falling for it anymore, you were just pissed off now.

Right at that moment you heard the store door close behind you. Great, just great. Now Jungkook gets to experience this embarrassing moment for you. Since he’s one of David’s closest friends, probably help him. Say something like ‘David is so awesome and amazing’. You turn to look at Jungkook, who seemed to be confused about what was transpiring in front of him. David has stopped talking at this point and is also looking over atJungkook. 

Jungkook observing the both of you, he could tell something is off. 

“Hey man.” David calls over to him, voice suddenly diffused and cheerful, and he waves a little. “Haven’t seen you around, how’s it going?”

“Uhh,” Jungkook looked at his plan of escape and seemed to abandon it but didn’t come closer to the two of you. “Good man, Just busy.” 

You were trapped. You wouldn’t be able to get out of this, but still the look you gave to Jungkook suggested that you needed help getting out of this situation. You could only hope he sees it, and sees that even if you have been treating him like crap he may be the only person to get David to back off. 

“You should come hang out, everyone misses you. ” David spoke up again, trying to fill the weighing silence between the three of you.

“I’m okay, actually.” Jungkook says, his voice is monotone and unwavering. Almost mad? He took a couple steps closer to the two of you. Jungkook had caught on to your look for help. “Everything okay here?”

He could tell you were extremely uncomfortable, and he knew if David had an idea he wasn’t going to let it go. For whatever reason, that was you right now.

“Yeah, we are just talking really quick.” David spoke in place of you, before you could get a word out. 

David placed a hand on your shoulder and you immediately recoiled away. Jungkook right at that moment got an idea. He had no idea if it would work or if you even really wanted his help. He decided it was worth a shot though. 

“You ready to go?” He spoke directly to you.

It surprised you and you stared at him for a moment with a confused look, one David was unable to see from standing behind you.

“Uhh…” Your eyebrows screw together. 

“You guys know each other?” David stepped into the space that was between you and Jungkook. 

“Not really.” You say, which was the truth. 

“We are working on something together.” Jungkook fills in the blank, almost too quickly after you. He was looking directly at David, and was standing taller now. 

“Well, can we just have a minute?” David asks. His demeanor changed in response to the change in Jungkook’s tone and stance. Defensive. 

Jealous?

“No we need to go.” Jungkook comes over to you and takes the bag out of your hand, adding it to the arm he already had his on. You almost on instinct protest him but hold yourself back. Whatever Jungkook was doing was working and you just might be able to get out of here. Hurricane David would pass.

“Y/N I just need a minute.” David looked a little flustered by the intrusion. 

“No. We are done.” You speak abruptly and move closer to Jungkook’s direction. 

“Seriously?” David looks at you, he was definitely frustrated, and that filled you with sense of relief. 

“Yeah. Seriously.” You say.

“Head home David.” Jungkook steps backwards in the direction towards campus. “I think it’s time we left as well.”

“Fine, go then.” David snorts, he takes a quick step over to Jungkook, leaning into his ear and then says something else inaudible to you. Which, after a moment, results in Jungkook pushing David harshly away from him. 

“Hey let’s go.” You grab onto Jungkook’s arm and you head towards the direction of the dorms. Quickly. David doesn’t get another word in, you and Jungkook kept the same pace and moved in quick silence. 

“What a fucking douche.” Jungkook finally says once you guys are far enough away. 

“I thought you were friends?” You ask, now confused. Wasn’t he like Jungkook’s best friend? That’s how David always described him.

“Not anymore.” He looks at you, “I hope he didn’t bug you too much.” 

“Oh, he will. He’s probably going to text me any minute.” You dread it in fact. He was annoyingly persistent in the times you guys were… off.

“How do you know him?” 

You let out a sigh. That was a loaded question indeed.

“It’s a very long and taxing story.” 

“Want to talk about it?”

“Maybe after a drink or five.” You shake your head, joking in your tone. 

Jungkook then ruffles around into his bag. Pulling out a can of a drink that was juice and alcohol mixed together. A mango flavor of some kind. You glance at it and then back up to Jungkook.

“I’ve got time.” 

Jungkook walked you back to your dorm. Usually you wouldn’t invite guys up but your roommate was out for the evening and you weren’t too worried about it right now. You both sat on the ground in your room. Opening up your drinks and sitting, and you begin to explain the long complicated history between you and David. How he cheated once, begged you to come back, cheated again, begged you to come back again, and then shocker… cheated again. Then made you out to be the insane one to everyone you knew. David had this uncanny way of just getting into your head and you were not letting it happen this time.

Jungkook just sat silently and listened. He didn’t try to interject or try to defend David in any way. Just let you get it all out. Which just only piqued your curiosity on their relationship even more. Were they not close like you had been told? Did something happen? 

“And so that’s how he ended up here. Seeking me out again.” You take a sip of your second drink for the night.”

“What the fuck is wrong with him.” Jungkook shook his head and took a sip of his drink. 

“And every time, he made me look just more and more like an idiot. For believing that each time he wants me and wants to be really committed. I kept believing it could happen, but every single time the rug is pulled out from under me and everyone is laughing at me for not seeing that he was going to do it again.” You sigh, you sank down onto the floor further. Feeling like it was dragging you down into it.

“I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think he is an asshole.” Jungkook discards his can into the plastic bag that you two had used for garbage. 

“I was nervous when you came out of the store tonight. I thought you guys were still friends.” 

“No, absolutely not. He pulled some crap a couple of months ago and I hope I never see him again. Clearly he thought we were still friends.” Jungkook picked at his fingernails while talking. 

“He calls you his best friend, you know.” You look to see his reaction and Jungkook snorts. 

“That’s rich.” He tilts his head. “He’s certainly not mine. We were pretty close though.” 

“Not close enough to meet me I guess. His on and off girlfriend.” 

Jungkook paused for a second, clearly trying to carefully choose his next words. “He never mentioned you.” 

You sat up, you eyes narrowing for a second. “What?”

Jungkook chewed on his lip for a moment. “He never really mentioned he had a girlfriend. Not around his friends at least. I had no idea he ever had a serious relationship.” 

You blink one and twice for a moment, taking in his words. You’ve met some of David’s other friends, but he never mentioned you? Not even as a fling? You just laugh because it all makes more sense now. It’s a bitter laugh. 

“Great.” You rub your hands over your face, “That just makes me look even dumber when I would go around being like heres a picture of my boyfriend. Maybe I was just a dirty little secret all along.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jungkook didn’t know how to respond. The whole thing just sucked. 

“No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for how I treated you with all of this. You didn’t even know anything. You really didn’t know what he was doing. Any of it.” 

“Wait, all this freezing out and bitterness towards me for weeks had to do with David?” Jungkook scrunched his face at you. 

“Yeah, you were his best friend. As far as I knew at least. I assumed that you had to know about all the stuff he was doing to me and the cheating… I just labeled you an asshole like him.” You fidgeted in your seat a little uncomfortable, and you didn’t look up to him. “It was easier to hate you than to hear you out I guess.”

“Huh.” All the pieces were suddenly falling into place now. for Jungkook. 

“David and I were also so on and off. Makes sense why we never met–”

“And I didn’t remember you when class started.” Jungkook nodded, his jaw open in realization. “Because there was nothing to remember.” Every interaction between the two of you suddenly made so much sense now.

“Yeah so I’m sorry for all the bitterness and undeserving frustration. I really thought you knew and were playing dumb.” You pulled your knees up to your chest, trying to hide yourself away. 

“Trust me, if I had known any of that, I probably would have kicked the crap out of him.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I swear I never knew he was seeing someone. Anytime he mentioned… anyone… he would just say oh this ‘girl I slept with’ or ‘this chick I was with’.” 

It was like a new kick in the chest hearing this new piece of information from Jungkook. David lied to everyone, it wasn’t just you. Some weird comfort in the fact that no one really knows him, not even people he hangs out with all the time. 

“I know now that was all bullshit, I hope you know.” He tries to reassure you. 

“Thanks.” You give him a half smile. “God, now I really feel like an asshole.” 

“Don’t, you didn’t know. None of us knew.” He waves you off, “Water under the bridge now.”

You sigh, “I hope so… Maybe we can start over. Now that you already know I’m kind of an asshole maybe we could actually be friends.” You sip on your drink. 

“Yeah… okay.” Jungkook nods with a small grin at the corner of his mouth. “That would really piss David off.” 

You give him a confused look, “Why would that piss him off?” 

Jungkook sits up crossing his arms, “He has a bit of a complex and I would bet if we were hanging out. His head just might explode.” 

“Oh I would pay to see that.” You laugh under your breath. “Plus being friends will probably make this project a whole lot easier.”

“Don’t speak too soon, we are starting the hardest part this week.” Jungkook groaned a little. 

“Don’t remind me,” You glanced over to you piled homework at the end of your bed, “Speaking of, I should get back to my stuff now. This was nice though, actually… talking.” 

“Yeah, it was.” Jungkook stood as well, he patted his pants checking he had everything he needed. 

You shuffled around in your bag from the convenience store and pulled out a bag of chips and handed them to Jungkook. 

“For helping me, it’s not much but it’s a start.” 

“Anytime. Text me if you need help with the project.” Jungkook accepted your offer. It was a nice first step to actually being friends. Plus your new found bond of hating the same guy also helps. 

With that Jungkook left. You got yourself up off the floor and back onto your bed. Picking up your phone to actually check what time it was but seeing you had missed a handful of texts. Not surprising at all. 

David: come back.

David: pls

David: you expect me to believe you aren’t fucking that guy?

David: hope you have fun.

David: i bet he won’t even be able to get it up for you. 

David: pls answer me.

David: can’t believe you would do this

Wow. Jungkook was right about that complex thing. Except you didn’t need him bothering you anymore. So you finally got up the courage to block his number. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

Present Day

Jungkook had been back at work for a few days, but something was off. He moved through tasks like a machine—efficient, precise, but utterly lifeless. To most people, it wouldn’t seem like anything was wrong. His work was spotless, his demeanor polite, but to those who really knew him, it was clear something wasn’t right.

Jimin, for one, had definitely noticed. Jungkook was usually social, always cracking jokes or giving over-detailed play-by-plays of his workout routines. This week, though? Radio silence. It was like his body was here, but his mind was somewhere else entirely. Jimin had informed Taehyung of the weird change in Jungkook’s behavior and Taehyung encouraged Jimin to put some pressure on.

Curious—and more than a little nosy—Jimin sauntered over to Jungkook’s desk, a file in hand. Jungkook was hunched over his computer, eyes glued to the screen, typing furiously.

“Hey, I need the paperwork for the Johnson case,” Jimin said, leaning against the edge of the desk.

“Uh-huh. I’ll get that right away,” Jungkook replied without looking up, his tone flat and mechanical.

Jimin narrowed his eyes. Yep, Jungkook wasn’t listening.

“Oh, and you’re in charge of picking up two-thousand cupcakes for the office party in two hours,” Jimin added casually, watching for a reaction.

“Okay,” Jungkook said, still typing.

Jimin smirked, crossing his arms. “Cool. While you’re at it, I’ll invite Y/N to the office. Maybe she can snap you out of whatever funk this is.”

The reaction was immediate. Jungkook froze, his fingers hovering above the keyboard, his foot—previously tapping incessantly—stopping mid-bounce. Slowly, he turned to Jimin, his wide-eyed expression betraying a mix of panic and guilt.

“Y/N is coming here?” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, trying to recover. “Why would you do that? Wh—Why would you invite Y/N here?”

Jimin raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised by the overreaction. “Relax, I was joking. She’s not coming.”

“Oh,” Jungkook muttered, turning back to his computer a little too quickly. “Right. Joking. Cool.”

Jimin didn’t let it go. He leaned in closer, scrutinizing Jungkook like he was a puzzle to solve. “Why the sudden jumpiness at the mention of Y/N? You were so calm and collected about them last week.”

“I’m not jumpy,” Jungkook said immediately, his tone defensive. “I just… thought it was weird. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” Jimin wasn’t buying it. He knew Jungkook too well. “Okay, spill. What’s going on? You’ve been acting weird all week—more robotic than usual. Did something happen?”

“No,” Jungkook said, a little too quickly.

Jimin crossed his arms. “Lying isn’t your strong suit, Jungkook.”

“I’m not lying,” Jungkook insisted, avoiding eye contact.

Jimin smirked knowingly. “Uh-huh. Because you have been walking around here like you’ve seen a ghost or something the last few days.”

Jungkook groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I’m fine. Haven’t slept super well. Can we not do this right now?”

“Fine,” Jimin said, throwing his hands up in surrender. “But whatever’s eating you, you should probably deal with it before the trial tomorrow. Can’t have our golden boy flubbing his arguments because his brain’s stuck on something else.”

Jungkook glared at him but didn’t respond, turning back to his computer.

As Jimin walked away, he couldn’t help but grin. Something had definitely happened, and now he just had to figure out what.

Jungkook sat back in his chair with a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. His thoughts were a tangled mess, and no amount of work could drown them out. This whole situation with you had him rattled in a way he couldn’t explain.

Normally, this would’ve been easy to brush off. It wasn’t guilt because there was nothing to feel guilty about. And it wasn’t shame either—no one knew what had happened between you two, and even if they did, he wasn’t the type to care about whispers.

So why couldn’t he shake this feeling? He leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if the answer might be written there. He could only imagine a huge reason is this is really the only time he has slept with someone outside of being in a relationship with them. It was strange for sure, especially because it’s not just that it’s someone random…

It was you.

Jungkook can only assume he feels so out of sorts because of those two factors. He also has no intention of getting into a relationship with you. So you were right, although he would never admit it to you, this should never happen again. It was completely throwing Jungkook off, and he can conclude Taehyung’s stupid theory is wrong. Plus it was not helping your relationship, you two were still acting exactly the same as before… plus sex. 

“What are you even doing?” Jungkook muttered as he leaned back in his desk chair. 

His phone buzzed on the desk, the vibration breaking through the noise in his head. He glanced at the screen, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he saw Namjoon’s name.

Namjooooooon: Hey mel and I are planning to get everyone together Saturday. You in?

Namjooooooon: ps y/n will probably be there. Melanie misses them too much to not invite them… 

Jungkook paused thinking if it would be a good idea. You two hadn’t parted exactly well but not as explosively as other times. He could keep himself in check for sure. He just wasn’t too sure if all this time he was sending around you was withering him away or not. 

Jk: I’ll be there.

With that he placed his phone back on the table, forcing himself to dive back into his work. He had a long day and an even longer few weeks ahead of him and he needed to stay focussed. He needed to put a pin in whatever this feeling is and deal with it maybe another time. 

On the other hand, you had done a great job at not having any feelings at all.

You had managed to push everything from the weekend out of your mind—or at least, you told yourself you had. You threw yourself into work with the kind of laser focus that made your coworkers pause. It was probably the most productive you’d been in weeks. Charts updated. Paperwork completed. Patients checked. You almost didn’t feel like yourself, but that was the point, wasn’t it?

Unfortunately, in your single-minded determination to stay busy, you’d also been unintentionally dodging Vic. She’d tried to grab you a few times, but somehow, you always managed to slip away with the excuse of an urgent task. You told yourself it was for the best. If anyone was going to see the guilt of the weekend written all over your face, it was her.

Still, as well as you were doing at shoving your questionable life choices into a mental box labeled “Ignore Forever”, your thoughts betrayed you sometimes. The absurdity of it all would creep in at random moments. Like now, as you absentmindedly flipped through patient charts at the nurses’ station. You couldn’t help but think about a time when the idea of even entertaining the thought of Jungkook would’ve sent you to the ER, convinced you were having a mental breakdown.

Maybe you really did need professional help.

As if on cue, Yoongi plopped down at the station, clearly in no mood for nonsense as he typed furiously at the computer. Perfect. A distraction. You slid your chair closer, the sound of the wheels catching his attention.

“Yoongi,” you whined, leaning dramatically into his personal space.

He didn’t even look at you, just sighed as though bracing for whatever chaos you were about to bring. “What can I do for you Y/N?”

“What are all the symptoms of a brain tumor?” you asked, propping your chin on your hands.

Yoongi froze for half a second, then slowly turned his head to look at you. “Why? Do you think one of the patients is exhibiting some strange behavior?” His voice was flat, but the shift in his tone betrayed his concern.

“Nope,” you said breezily. “I’m asking for me.”

One eyebrow shot up, but he still didn’t miss a beat on his keyboard. “Well, I’m pretty sure you don’t have a brain tumor.” He finally finished typing and swiveled his chair to face you fully. “But just to be safe, you can always page one of the neuro dude bros. That’s their thing, not mine.” 

Yoongi knew that most of the nurses, including yourself, had a major distaste for the neuro residents. The guys in particular were acting like it was a frat. It was his way of teasing.

“Ugh, I hate all the neuro residents,” you groaned, flopping back in your chair. “You, however, are conveniently here and a very qualified doctor.”

He smiled faintly, clearly unimpressed. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

You gasped, clutching your chest in fake betrayal. “Come on, one little head CT. I’ll even write you a glowing review on RateMDs.”

“Sure,” he deadpanned, standing and ruffling your hair as he moved to leave. “Let’s just order an expensive, unnecessary scan for fun. I’m sure Dr. Kim will love that.”

You trotted after him as he headed for the elevator. “Hear me out. What if I do have a brain tumor? We could be solving a medical mystery together. Dr. Kim would forgive us in a heartbeat!”

He snorted as the elevator doors opened. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“This isn’t over!” You called as the doors closed on his smirk. Defeated, you trudged back to the nurses’ station and sank into your chair, picking up where you left off with your paperwork. You were so close to the finish line, so close to clocking out, when Vic’s voice cut through the hum of the station like a scalpel.

“Are you avoiding me?”

You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up. Slowly, you turned in your chair to face her. Vic was leaning casually against the half-wall of the nurses’ station, arms crossed, her expression far too knowing for your comfort.

“What? No!” you said quickly, too quickly. “I’ve just been… busy.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she pushed off the wall and grabbed the chair next to you, plopping down with an audible sigh. “You’ve been a blur all week,” she said, propping her chin on her hand. “Every time I see you, it’s like you’re ducking behind walls or conveniently getting pulled into a room. I haven’t even had a chance to properly harass you.”

“Well, you’ve got me now.” You said with a nervous laugh that sounded more like a squeak.

Vic tilted her head, studying you with the precision of a predator sizing up its prey. “I do. So, why do you look like you’ve committed a crime?”

“No crime. Same old me. Nothing new.” You shake your head maybe a little too vigorously for convincing, but Vic decides its been a long day so maybe you were just being weird. 

Vic stared at you for a beat longer, clearly unconvinced. But to your relief, she shrugged it off, picking up a tablet and tapping her stylus against the screen. “Alright, fine. Just wanted to make sure I didn’t scare you away or something. I desperately need you to stay up here as long ass they’ll let me have you, after all”

You exhaled slowly, grateful she wasn’t pressing further—for now.

The two of you sat in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of the nurses’ station filling the air: keyboard clicks, faint beeps from patient monitors, and the occasional chatter in the background. Except your mind was far from settled. The thing was, you couldn’t talk about this situation with Ash or Melanie. Ash had never kept a secret in her life, and Melanie? She’d tell Namjoon in a heartbeat. And once Namjoon knew, it’d be over for you.

Vic was your best bet. Sure, she’d laugh at you, but you could handle that. You’d endured worse. And keeping it bottled up was slowly driving you insane.

Finally, you rolled your chair back and turned toward her. She was immersed in her tablet, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

“Okay, there’s one thing,” you said hesitantly, gripping onto the edge of your seat harder than you had realized.

Vic’s head popped up, her brows arching. “What’s up?”

You hesitated, twisting your fingers together nervously. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? Promise.”

She rolled her eyes, setting the tablet on her lap. “Who am I going to tell? Mr. Jones in 342? He’s not exactly a vault of secrets.”

“He’s a blabbermouth,” you deadpanned, earning a chuckle from her. Mr. Jones was in a coma. He wasn’t on this floor but everyone knew about him since he had been here a few years. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. “Okay. So, uh… it happened again.”

Vic’s brow furrowed in confusion, her head tilting slightly. “What happened again?”

“Me and…” You lowered your voice to a whisper, glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot. “You know who.”

Vic stared at you, blinking once. Then twice. You could see the gears turning as she connected the dots. And then her jaw dropped. “You what? Say it again, because I need to make sure I’m not hallucinating.”

“Jungkook and I…” You swallowed hard. “…again.”

For a moment, there was nothing but stunned silence. And then she erupted into laughter—loud, unabashed laughter that had several people glancing your way.

Vic tried to stifle her laughter, but it bubbled out anyway, her shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry, but this is gold. What happened to ‘it didn’t fix anything, and you still hate him’? Is he just that good?” she teased, her grin positively wicked.

“Vic!” you whined, swatting at her arm, though the heat rising to your cheeks betrayed your embarrassment.

“Okay, okay,” she said, raising her hands in surrender, though the smirk on her face didn’t budge. “But seriously, what are you going to do now?”

You let out a long, drawn-out sigh, slumping back into your chair like the weight of the world was pressing down on you. “Avoid him. Forever, if I can manage it.”

Vic tilted her head, her expression skeptical. “Yeah, because that worked so well the first time.” She shook her head, laughing softly as she turned back to her tablet. “You’re a mess. But I love you for it.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. “I am not a mess. I’d like to think I’m actually very well composed.”

Vic snorted, her lips twitching as she tried not to laugh. “Right, right. Say that again when you’re not—”

“Victoria.” You interrupted sharply, cutting her off with a pointed look.

“Damn, alright. No need to use my full name like I’m in trouble. Anyway... how did it happen?” Her teasing tone softened slightly as she leaned forward, genuinely curious now. “Walk me through it. Start to... unfortunate finish.”

You groaned again, rubbing your temples. “Do we have to?”

“Oh, absolutely. This is the best thing that’s happened all week.” She said, propping her chin on her hand as if settling in for storytime.

With another sigh, you gave in, recounting the night in as much detail as you could bear—the tizzy outside, then the bathroom and then how you two made it to the unthinkable end. Your shift had ended in the time it took you to explain everything and Vic had followed you to the locker room while you got your stuff. 

Unthinkable maybe a few months ago. 

“I’m jealous. I wish I had something this entertaining happening in my life. The most interesting gossip I have is about Dr. Kim’s surgery this morning.” She leaned against a locker next to you as you had gotten your stuff. 

“Be glad because it’s a pain in reality.” You sigh, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “Now I need to go home and wash this extremely long day off of me.” 

“Well don’t stumble into Jungkook's bed on your way there.” 

Just before you leave the locker room, You turn back to her. “I hate you.” 

“Love you too baby. Get home safe.” She waves for you to get out of here. Escape while you still could. 

You exhaled deeply as you exited the locker room, the weight of the day pulling at your shoulders. Every muscle in your body ached, and the thought of a hot shower and your bed felt like a distant dream. As you reached the elevator, you spotted Ji-eun shuffling slowly down the hallway, her IV bag trailing behind her like a stubborn shadow.

“Goodnight, Ji-eun,” you called out, giving her a small wave as you pressed the elevator button.

“Leaving so early?” she teased, her voice light but tired as she made her way over to you. You could tell from her slower steps and the way she leaned slightly to one side that today hadn’t been a good day for her.

“Short shift today,” you replied with a warm smile, masking your concern. “You should be off that leg if it’s bothering you.”

“Never,” she quipped, standing up straighter and puffing out her chest in defiance. “Can’t you see? I’ve got all the energy in the world!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “All right. Come on, let me walk you back to your room.”

Ji-eun beamed, looping her arm through yours as if you’d just made her day. “You’re too good to me, you know that?”

“Someone has to keep you in check.” You teased, giving her a gentle nudge as the two of you started down the hallway.

“So,” She began, her tone shifting to one of playful curiosity. “You haven’t updated me on your annoying boy this week. Still giving you trouble?”

You groaned inwardly but couldn’t help smiling at her persistence. “Just a little, but nothing I can’t handle,” you said lightly, hoping to steer the conversation away.

“That doesn’t sound very convincing,” Ji-eun said, narrowing her eyes at you. “What happened this time?”

You hesitated but gave in under her expectant gaze. “I ran into him again. It... wasn’t great. We fought again.”

She gasped dramatically, clutching your arm like you’d just revealed a scandal. “How thrilling! And here I was thinking my life was dramatic with all these needles and IV bags.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No more run-ins this week, though, so that’s a win.”

Ji-eun gave your arm a comforting squeeze. “Progress. Honestly, I wish my boys would talk about things like this. All they ever discuss these days is what’s happening at work.”

“Either of them coming by tonight?”

Ji-eun shakes her head, “No they both are so busy. My youngest especially these days. My husband will be here after too long though.”

“Good, and trust me, you’re not missing much. I would accept work gossip over boy drama any day.” You said, though your smile wavered slightly as the truth of your own words settled over you.

When you reached her room, you helped her ease into bed, adjusting her blankets and making sure she was comfortable. You still hadn’t gotten the chance to meet any of her family yet but her hospital room had been filling up more and more with things from home and things to keep her entertained. It was nice to see what she elected to have around her here. 

“You’re a saint,” Ji-eun murmured, her voice softer now, the day’s fatigue catching up to her.

“I’m just doing my job,” you replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. “You need to take it easier since your treatments are going to just make everyday tasks even harder.”

“I’ll try. Goodnight, Y/N.” She points for you to leave dramatically and you comply.

“Goodnight,” Leaving with the weight of your shoulder now really barring down on you now. 

You got onto the elevator and heading down to the garage. Your phone buzzing in your pocket. 

MEL:  ME YOU ASH. SATURDAY NIGHT. IN OR OUT.

You laugh, thank god Melanie was back in town. You really needed a good night in with her and Ash so this text couldn’t come at a better time. 

:IM IN

MEL: AMAZING

MEL: small detail I may have let out 

MEL: It will also include the boys too..

MEL: BUT YOU ALREADY AGREED SO YOU CANT BACK OUT NOW

Which you knew meant Jungkook. Great. 

:that’s fine It'll be fun no matter what

You could very well keep it together. Just stay one arm attached to Melanie and nothing could go wrong. You missed her dearly and of course Namjoon. Although he probably didn’t miss the sleepovers you, Ash and Melanie would have where he ended up getting kicked out of his own bed. 

Which very well may happen again this weekend. 

You continued about your week normally and so did Jungkook. Jungkook’s week had been consumed by the trial, which included long days in court, late nights reviewing documents, and the constant hum of pressure to perform. Yet, despite the chaos, things were looking up. His team was solid, their arguments tight, and with the trial on recess until Monday, Jungkook felt unusually optimistic. Optimistic enough, in fact, to accept Taehyung’s invite for a drink—a rarity for him during trial season.

Both Jungkook and Taehyung tried to rope Namjoon into coming out as well, and Namjoon was almost convinced. Then about forty five minutes ago he was texting something about having to prepare the house for the invasion, cryptically. They both were completely unsure what that was supposed to mean. 

Taehyung was already waiting in a booth when Jungkook arrived, beer in hand and a mischievous grin ready to pounce. As Jungkook slid into the seat across from him, Taehyung gave an exaggerated round of applause. “Mr. Responsible Lawyer Boy, gracing me with his presence. This is truly an honor.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a smile as he set his whiskey down on the table. “Don’t get used to it. I’ve still got a mountain of paperwork waiting for me tomorrow.”

“Of course you do,” Taehyung said, raising his beer. “But look at you now—drink in hand, no case files in sight. Dare I say, you’re almost acting human.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” Jungkook replied, taking a sip of his whiskey. “I’ve still got a trial to win. But things are going well enough that I figured I could afford one night off. Or at least an hour.”

“Rare footage of Jungkook actually relaxing,” Taehyung said, pulling out his phone and pretending to film him. “Better capture this before you start muttering about depositions and cross-examinations again.”

Jungkook smirked, setting his glass down. “I’d be careful if I were you. That phone footage might mysteriously disappear.”

Taehyung chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Alright, mystery man. So, what’s got you in such a good mood? Jimin’s been saying you’ve been acting... off this week.”

Jungkook sighed, he figured he would hear something about earlier this week. Jimin and Taehyung were already in Jungkook's business enough so any change in behavior does not escape them, “Of course he has. Between the wedding and this trial, I’ve had a lot on my plate. That’s all.”

“Sure, sure,” Taehyung said, his tone light but his gaze sharp. “You’ve barely had any time for me. Do you know how neglected I feel? My best friend, abandoning me in my time of need?”

Jungkook rolled his eyes again. “Poor you. You were one of the groomsmen if you remember. I saw you the entire time.”

“Poor me indeed! You were so busy trying to one up Y/N the whole time.” Taehyung exclaimed, throwing an arm over his eyes in mock despair. “I’ve had to survive on scraps of attention while you’ve been off doing... whatever it is you’ve been doing.”

“Work,” Jungkook said pointedly. “Once this trial is over, I’ll have plenty of time to make it up to you. My mind’s just been... all over the place lately.”

“Something bothering you?” Taehyung asked, leaning in a little too close for comfort. “Anything you want to share with the class?”

Jungkook pushed him back with a laugh. “No. Nothing in particular.”

“Hmm.” Taehyung took a long sip of his beer, clearly not convinced. Jungkook could sense now Taehyung was dancing around something. He had something he wanted to ask. “Jimin said you’ve been quieter than usual. That’s weird, even for you, especially this close to a trial. Thought there might be something on your mind.”

“If this trial goes well, it’s a huge opportunity for me. Potential promotion. That’s all.” Jungkook shrugs, playing it cool. Still unsure where Taehyung is taking this.

Taehyung nodded slowly, as if considering this. “Makes sense. But, you know, I thought I might’ve had an idea why you’ve been acting so strange...”

“Tae,” Jungkook said, narrowing his eyes. “What are you getting at?”

Taehyung grinned, clearly enjoying himself. “Nothing, nothing. Forget I said anything.” He sat up straight, switching gears with a dramatic clap of his hands. “I do know how you can make it up to me for all the lost hang-out time, though.”

“Oh yeah?” Jungkook said, skeptical. “What’s that?”

“If you tell me what’s going on with you and Y/N.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・

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Taglist!: @akkhddhfairys @njcxlewxrld @kooklovee @ericawantstoescape @pitchblack0309 @rpwprpwprpwprw @lanie97 @httpjeonlicious @jollis87 @oopscoop @rinkud @deepikhaprakash @chuuritoz @jkslvsnella @eisthv @bangatanily @smwhrinthehaze @jjkologys @nono13bnd @vantelover1306 @jalexad @sadgirlroo @chimmisbae @smoljjks @miniesjams32 @daskewl @kookienooki

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a/n: Maybe not the most exciting chapter but I have been very excited to show that college flashback. Although not the most important piece of their history - it is important none the less... because they were friends once?? hmmmmmm.

[mononijikayu]

forg_tful — fushiguro megumi.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them.  Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.  “Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor. You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

GENRE: alternate universe - grim reaper au;

WARNING/S: mythical beings and creatures, aged up megumi, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, unhappy life, depression, illness, hurt, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, depiction of character death, depiction of illness, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of panic attack, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, grim reaper! megumi, long suffering dying! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: when i was dabbling about what to post, i did a wheel of names and megumi won so here is another megumi fic. i was talking with @midnight-138 the other day and we got in this conversation about goblin, the kdrama. and there were grim reapers there. so i ended up writing about that here. i hope you enjoy it as much as i did!!! anyway, i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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THERE IS A WONDER ABOUT HUMAN DESTINY. You heard a story about it then, at the orphanage. One of your carers would tell you about it often. How humans were born into this destiny in this new life after their old one.

And this life is determined by how good or bad that past life was. And that each and everyone must live a good enough life in each cycle, in order to have a good life in the next.

When you were a child, understanding this concept felt like a challenge. How could one’s destiny ever be decided just like that, by things you don’t even remember? Who gets to decide whether or not we are good?

Is good and bad easy to tell? You would ask the older kids at the orphanage this, and sometimes you caretakers. But they never seem to understand why you could not accept it as it is. 

After all, you were a child. And a child would always find that ridiculous, you think. You were a child. You haven’t done anything wrong. Not to anyone. Not about anything.

You doubt you could have done something in your past life that should warrant any punishment. You were someone people knew to be a good kid, you always have been. People looked at you warmly, ever so kindly. 

But now you can only say that you know better. You have grown up. You had seen the truth. And it was not good, it was ugly and rotten. It was a tragedy. And you hated it. You hated everything about it.

Because your past life, your past self — they might have been a terrible person. They must have been the worst of the worst. Because, if you weren’t, then what justifies that sad suffering? That painful existence you had lived up until now.

You sighed heavily, taking in the whiff of bitter antiseptic, that artificial fragrance. You like to think you’ve been cursed to live a sad life. And today was just another proof of it.

Every thought of it just lingers like a familiar shadow, whispering in the quiet moments when you’re too tired to fight back. It’s easier to believe in curses than coincidences, easier to pin your pain on something cosmic than accept a world so indifferent.

You were an orphan, after all. Not in the storybook sense where miracles come to those who wait, but in the raw, unvarnished truth of it. Alone from the start, without a name to cry out to when the nights felt endless.

There was no mother to call for warm hugs, there was no father to give you reassurances. Just that cold metal bunk bed, which creaks at night as you twist and turn and the dark moonless nights.

You were passed from one place to another, faceless in a system that churned endlessly, always one more lost child than it could handle. You kept being told that it wasn’t that because you were unlovable, that’s what they always said.

But it was just that they found out what love looks like when they look at someone else, at another child that they think fits in their family. That was just how they felt they said, that was just their truth. And it shouldn't be personal. 

You learned early on that love wasn’t guaranteed, that kindness wasn’t free, and that your worth was measured by how little trouble you caused. And just like that you grew up in that orphanage, being your own parent, being your own mother and father, your own sibling. Your own family.

When the kids at school found out, they immediately latched onto it. The teasing started small, barbs disguised as jokes, but it grew sharper, crueler. Just as the years dragged on, they had grown to be even crueler, even more vicious about being someone like you. 

Even as you started to have your own life and slowly became an adult, you found that people would never think to give you anything. You had expectations at one point that people would be more understanding. That they would give you more grace about it. 

But you would find yourself broken up over by your significant other because their mother didn’t like that you had no one in your family. Well, their mother never liked you from the beginning.

They thought you were difficult and had no manners, all because you never had a family, no parents to teach you all the things that would make a good person.

You would find yourself having friends and then getting into fights with them when you couldn’t show up for them at times, because you had to work multiple jobs to get through college.

Or how you couldn’t hang out with them because you had to take another shift for extra cash for your rent. They would say, what would be the need of you if you can’t be there?

Over time, you found yourself isolated from the world. No matter what you did, you found yourself alone. You found yourself unable to please people, unable to keep people. Unable to attain happiness or peace in this life. And over time too, you stopped expecting anyone to step in. You stopped expecting anything at all.

You’ve had a rough life—that’s what they’d call it, isn’t it? A neat little phrase to gloss over the thorny, jagged edges of this existence. It was as if that phrase could capture all of the nights spent crying into your pillow, the gnawing hunger for connection, for someone; the sense that the world moved on without ever noticing you.

And somehow, your misery can only continue.

It started with little things, barely noticeable at first—a name you couldn’t recall, a face that seemed familiar but unplaceable. Then it got worse and worse as time went by. Days lost to a haze of things you couldn’t explain, moments slipping through your fingers like water flowing downstream. 

You didn’t wanna worry about it that much in the beginning. Maybe you’ve been working too hard. You’ve taken so much work these past few weeks. And maybe you had forgotten to eat anything.

You had a sensitive stomach, after all. Maybe that’s what has been causing the fatigue and the headache. Maybe the headaches are the reason you’ve been forgetting a lot of things. Yeah, that’s what it could be.

Yet, it just never went away. Even with the lifestyle changes, even when you would cut back on work to take care of yourself and rest. Nothing had changed. In fact, the pain had only gotten worse.

And more and more, you would find yourself forgetting things more and more. At one point, you had cried so much after forgetting which street you lived on after work. 

You had felt your head spinning, your vision went on a blur and that night lamp began to burn against your eyes. Your breath labored over and over, and you had tried to get it controlled — but you couldn’t. Tears fell even more as you leaned against the lamp post. You felt like you were going to collapse.That you were going to throw up on the floor. 

It took some time for yourself to regain some control, you knew that much. You just stayed there, letting the tears fall. You still didn’t remember where you had lived. You were forgetting it all. And that frustrated you to no end. You knew then that this can’t continue happening. That this cannot continue on. 

That’s why you came here in this godforsaken place known as the hospital. You’ve always hated hospitals. It was such a terrible place. Even as a child, getting your check–ups with the other orphans terrified you. Nothing about this place spells any good. You were already with bad luck, with such a terrible destiny in this life and you didn’t want it to continue.

But you cannot control destiny, not ever.

You could only control yourself. 

And even that, you cannot have control.

Not anymore, not ever again.

The doctors confirmed it: a rare, terminal illness. Brain cancer, in its final stages. Not only was it going to kill you, it was going to take everything that made you along with it.

Your memories, no matter how horrible, your identity, no matter how empty, your self, no matter how broken. All of who you are — you'd fade away in pieces, becoming a hollow shell long before your body gave out.

You thought the universe had no more ways to hurt you. 

But you knew you were wrong, from the very beginning.

And then, on a night when the weight of it all felt unbearable, you saw him.

He wasn’t what you expected. No black cloak, no skeletal frame, no cold, lifeless eyes. The grim reaper was... human. Or at least, he looked that way. His dark colored hair fell in soft, dark strands over his forehead, his clothes unassuming—a rather plain and boring suit, even.

But there was something in his presence, a quiet intensity, that made your heart skip. His blue-green eyes, sharp and unreadable, pinned you in place, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“Who are you?” you asked, though deep down you already knew.

He studied you in silence for a moment, as though deciding whether you were worth an answer. Your eyes narrowed at him, as though trying to make sure that this isn’t just your brain making a mess of you. But he wasn’t. He was very much real. He was very much here. Finally, he spoke.

“Megumi.” he said. His voice was calm, steady, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. You hadn’t expected that from a grim reaper. You had expected something more rough. Something more….grim.

“Is that all?” you pressed, desperation clawing at your throat. You wanted—no, needed—to know more. Why him? Why now? Why couldn’t you just be left alone?

“That’s all you need to know about me.” he said simply.

His words were a wall you couldn’t scale. No matter how hard you tried, you knew there would be no answers, no explanations, no mercy. At least not until you were dead. You sighed, leaning against the bench.

This was it. The final countdown was coming soon. There was no escape. Yet, as the silence stretched between you, a strange feeling took root in your chest. Not comfort, not exactly. But something close. It was at least something. And for once, you weren’t alone.

You didn’t know what this grim reaper, this Megumi, was meant to be to you. What was he? Was he a guide, a witness, a judge? You didn’t know. And perhaps it was easier not to ask questions, to not know. 

But as you continued to sit there, staring at the one who would carry you to your end, a thought crossed your mind. At least he wasn’t judging you. At least he was just there, waiting. He was calm as can be, quiet and without any grievances towards you. 

Perhaps, maybe — at least he wasn’t as cruel as life has been. You began to think to yourself as you closed your eyes about one thing. Maybe if he was here, then maybe the end wouldn’t be so lonely after all. Maybe there will finally be some sense of peace at the end. 

You opened your eyes, your lips seeping into a small smile. “I look forward to meeting my end with you.”

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AS THE TIME GOES BY, HE WAS WITH YOU IN EVERYTHING. No one else around you could feel or see him the way you do. And he couldn’t go anywhere else. He was bound to you, until he could take your soul away and bring it with him. So, Megumi continued to watch over you as you continued to live your life, or at least what remains of it.

At first, his presence unnerves you. You weren’t used to this, being watched so closely almost everyday and every hour — especially with what remained of your miserable life. But slowly you found yourself getting used to him being around. And at the very least, he still gave you space when you did things that required privacy.

Otherwise, he’s always there, quiet and still, like a shadow you can’t shake. And as the days stretch into weeks, you begin to realize that he isn’t all bad. He does talk, sometimes. At least when he thinks you do something worth giving a response about.

He was truly quite reserved and serious half the time, yes, and almost cold in the way he speaks and carries himself, but there’s something beneath it. It wasn’t easy to notice at first, because it was ever so subtle. It was as if he never wanted anyone to notice that there was  something soft within that hard exterior of his.

Megumi didn’t seem to fit his job description—not at all. He was patient in a way you didn’t expect from a reaper. From what you’d gathered from folklore and stories about grim reapers, you imagined something far more ominous.

Shadows and sickles, maybe even whispers of death. But Megumi? He had a quiet presence that felt nothing like the foreboding figures you’d pictured.

When your mind betrays you, when a memory slips through your fingers like grains of sand, Megumi is there. He doesn’t judge the gaps, doesn’t rush you to remember. Instead, he catches the loose ends with an ease that seems effortless. 

Sometimes, it feels as though he’s more of a guide than a harbinger, steering you gently through the storm of forgetfulness. His voice is steady, grounding. His gaze is understanding, never invasive.

There’s a calmness to him, a patience that wraps around you like a soft cocoon. It’s disarming. You wonder how someone charged with ferrying souls could be so tender. Yet, when you look at him, you see no malice, no hint of the cold indifference you expected. Just the faintest trace of weariness in his eyes, as if he’s carried too many burdens that aren’t his own.

Sometimes, you forget who he is. And in those moments, Megumi doesn’t correct you. Instead, he lets you speak, lets you ramble, and when the memory comes back, when you remember why he’s here—he doesn’t revel in the grief.

He simply nods, a quiet acknowledgment that this, too, is part of the process. He’s not here to rush the inevitable; he’s here to make sure you don’t face it alone.

“Your nurse’s name is Alice, by the way.” Megumi says again when you struggle to introduce yourself. 

You could feel your mouth fumbling over syllables that don’t quite fit together. Your cheeks feel red at the thought, now remembering as she smiled at your direction. You waved at her. His voice is calm, steady, like he has all the time in the world to wait for you to find your footing. You blink at him, your thoughts swirling too fast to make sense of.

 “Huh?” you finally ask, the confusion thick in your tone. 

“She takes care of you in the mornings. Alice always makes sure to bring your meds with water, no ice.” he says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to know. “You told her once that cold water hurts your teeth, so she makes sure to bring you water without ice.

You glance down at your hands, unsure of what to say. His eyes felt warm against your own as you nodded slowly at him, trusting his words. Those details feel foreign to you, like a story you heard about someone else. But his words fit, even if you can’t remember saying them. They were warm, they felt truthful.

“Oh.” you mumble with a small smile. “Thanks.”

He looks away from you. “No problem.”

Later, in the cafeteria, you sit in front of a tray of food that feels unfamiliar. Your appetite is as absent as the clarity of your thoughts. You stare at the carton of apple juice, its horrifically bright label somehow irritating, though you can’t pinpoint why at all.

“You liked orange juice better than apple.” Megumi says, breaking the silence. He gestures toward the carton with a small nod. “That one’s your favorite. Not too sweet, not too sour.”

The simplicity of the statement hits you like a lifeline, tethering you to something concrete. You pick up the carton, turning it in your hands before setting it back down. You smiled at him again, but this time almost a mix of relief and embarrassment. You were relying on your grim reaper to remind you of everything, now more than ever.

“Thank you.” you say again, a little louder this time, just enough for him to hear.

The two of you sit in silence for a while before you decide to pull out the small notebook you’ve been keeping. Your doctor suggested it as your brain got even sicker. You needed to remember something and so this notebook, it was your place to track your thoughts before they disappear entirely. 

You scribble furiously, trying to make sense of the jumble in your head. You’re working on a sentence about feeling forgetful, but the words tangle together, your handwriting messy and uneven. You pause, staring at it. Something feels wrong. Something feels off. Your face contorts, your eyes narrow at the page.

“You missed an E.” Megumi says softly, leaning over to glance at the page. 

He doesn’t reach for the notebook, doesn’t try to take it from you. Instead, he taps the spot with his finger, just enough to draw your attention. Your eyes blinked. Sure enough, forgetful is written as forgtful. You bite your lip, heat rising to your cheeks as frustration bubbles up. 

“I—I know that, you know?” you say defensively, though the truth is you hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out.

He doesn’t laugh or tease you. “It happens, don’t worry.” he says simply, his tone free of judgment. “You caught it now. That’s what matters.”

You glance at him, expecting pity, but his stoic expression is as steady as ever, like this moment isn’t something to dwell on. You pierce your lips in a tight line. You carefully picked up your pen again, correcting the error with a shaky hand. 

“Thanks for telling me.” you mutter, embarrassed but grateful.

“You were talking about your favorite teacher, earlier.” he reminds you a little while later, after your thoughts derail mid-sentence. 

You’d been telling him about a memory. It was a rare one, where everything about it was good. It was such a warm, fuzzy one that had felt so clear in your mind just moments ago—but now it’s slipping away, leaving you grasping at straws.

You look at him, feeling lost. “I... was?”

“You were.” he confirms with a small nod, his tone encouraging. “You said they were the first people to notice how much you liked writing. You were just getting to the part about their funny laugh.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right!” you whisper, the thread of the memory slowly weaving its way back into focus. “Right. Mr. Greene. He laughed like a seagull.”

Megumi doesn’t laugh at the description, but his lips twitch in what might be the ghost of a smile. That was a rare thing, you knew that. But you like to think that maybe, just maybe, if he tried — he would look even better when he smiled. He already has a handsome face, you knew that. But maybe, his smile, it would make it even better.

“That’s it.” he says, his voice carrying a quiet kind of approval.

It’s small, these moments of clarity he gives you, but they feel monumental in a life that’s slowly crumbling. For a moment, you feel like you’ve reclaimed a small piece of yourself, and you can’t help but glance at him, wondering how someone like him, a reaper, of all things can make you feel more alive than you have in a long time.

You can’t help but admit it but he was your first true friend.

He was your longest companion to boot, with that.

And perhaps, he will be the only constant you’ll ever have.

But maybe he already knew that and he just doesn’t tell you.

He accompanies you often, especially in the long, quiet hours spent tethered to hospital machines. The hum of monitors and the rhythmic drip of IVs become a backdrop to his steady, unobtrusive presence. At first, you think he’s only there to observe, to do whatever grim reapers are supposed to do as your life ticks away. 

But the longer he stays, the more you realize he’s keeping you company at every appointment. Keeping you from being so alone. Even if it was his job, he could wait elsewhere. But he sits beside you, in an empty chair no one dares sit at. 

And he stays, throughout each and every appointment. Appointments which barely keep you alive. It was only a matter of time before he had to deliver your soul to wherever it had to be.

You started to wonder if he’ll think about this time with you too. If he will find this moment to be something that will cross his mind once this job, you, were done and gone. 

It’s strange, this relationship you’ve fallen into. He doesn’t talk much unless prompted, not unless you forgot something or need anything. But you like to think that you could start to rely on his silence. Especially when doctors and nurses give you all those complicated jargons that you didn’t even need.

It fills the void in a way words can’t. When you’re too tired to make conversation with visitors, when there are visitors, probably motivated by guilt or necessity, your grim reaper Megumi is there. Unfailingly, he would be sitting by your bedside, his gaze steady, his presence grounding. As though he wants to give you strength to deal with it all. 

But of course, as  you already know, no one else can see him. Just you. At first, you tried explaining him to the nurses, the doctors,  or when you felt like talking about something you knew he would listen to — but the looks they gave you were enough to stop. They chalked it up to the illness, the stress, or the medications. 

But Megumi is real. You know he’s real. The way he moves, the way he seems to sense your thoughts before you speak them, the way he exists on the edges of your life without ever intruding.

The way a glint in his eyes would appear warmer than before. He was here. He was there with you. You weren’t going crazy. And he knew that too. He was the only one that knew that.

One day, in the suffocating stillness of the hospital ward, you finally ask him the question that’s been gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pale light filtering through the blinds casts long shadows on the sterile white walls.

And the quiet hum of distant monitors feels unbearably loud. You shift uncomfortably in your bed, clutching the thin blanket as if it could anchor you to something solid.

“Why are you here?” The words escape your lips before you can stop them. Your voice is quiet, hesitant, but the question feels monumental, breaking the fragile peace between you.

Megumi doesn’t look surprised. He’s seated in the chair by your bed, one leg crossed over the other, his posture as calm as always. His gaze lifts from the book he’s been reading, something he always seems to have in his hands.

Though you’ve never seen him get past the halfway mark. He seems to be carrying it as though it was a prayer book he was forced to hold at a sermon at church.

“To watch you.” he says simply, his tone neutral. There’s no elaboration, no attempt to soften the starkness of his answer. As though it was almost like his words were that of fact. You furrow your brow, confused.

“I know that….But why? Why do you keep on watching me this closely?” you press, the weight of his presence suddenly more tangible. He isn’t like the nurses or the doctors who flit in and out of the room. He doesn’t belong here—not in the way they do.

“Are you uncomfortable about it?” 

You blinked at him, your mouth agape for a moment. “N–no.”

“Okay, then. I’ll continue on doing what I want.”

You didn’t speak for a moment. You like to think that it was all you were going to get from him. So you just sighed, leaning against your hospital bed and closing your eyes. This was the most he’d ever talk to you, and perhaps the longest. That could be a win, right?

“For you.” He spoke again, as though he couldn’t handle the silence between you. 

“For me?” you echo, your voice almost a whisper. The words feel foreign, as though they belong to someone else. “What does that mean?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering your question. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion you can’t name. Not pity, not detachment, but something softer. “Does my reason matter?”

“You have me curious now.” You whisper to him, letting out a small laugh. “What was your reason?” you ask him again.

Though deep down, you think you already know. The thought lodges itself in your chest, sharp and unwelcome. Megumi doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely together. His gaze holds yours for some time, steady and unwavering. 

“I made a promise I’d like to keep.” he says finally, the words carrying a gravity that makes your breath hitch.

“What promise?”

His eyes narrowed at you, almost as though it was full of hurt. “You don’t want to know.”

The suffocating stillness of the room presses down on you, but somehow, his presence feels like a small crack of light breaking through the weight of it all. You want to ask more—how he knows, why he cares, but the words catch in your throat, tangled in the storm of your thoughts.

It’s such a brief answer, yet it lingers with you long after the words fade. There’s no pity in his voice, no judgment, just a quiet truth that settles like a blanket over your weary mind. And in some inexplicable way, that’s enough.

So, instead you nod, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. It’s not acceptance, not yet, but maybe it’s the beginning of it. And Megumi, patient as ever, doesn’t push for more. He simply stays, his quiet presence a reminder that, whatever happens, you won’t face it alone.

Over time, Megumi’s presence becomes less foreboding and more… comforting. If someone told you a grim reaper could be anything close to a friend, you would’ve laughed. But now? You’re not so sure.

He still doesn’t talk much, but the moments he does are starting to feel less like obligations and more like. Well, like he cares. His dry humor catches you off guard sometimes, a quiet chuckle slipping from his lips when you grumble about hospital food or tell him a ridiculous story from your childhood that you’re shocked you even remember.

“They let you keep a pet fish in third grade?” he asks one day, his eyebrow quirking ever so slightly.

“Let me? No, I smuggled it back to the orphanage.” you reply, puffing your chest out like it’s something to be proud of. “Named him Mr. Bubbles. He lived in a mason jar by our shared windowsill until one of the staff found him.”

Megumi gives you a sidelong glance, and for a second, you think he’s about to scold you. But instead, his lips quirk into the tiniest smile. “Mr. Bubbles, huh.” he repeats, almost to himself, and the sound of it in his voice makes your chest feel light.

He’s always a comfort in the painful days of longevity treatments. You were getting even worse, not even the precious medication was working. Megumi was the one to urge you to continue, even if they were never going to do anything for you.

After all, he was here for a reason. Nothing was going to help. And yet, he still insists that having more time is better than having little.

This time, you like to think you could agree with him. With more time, you could continue to have Megumi by your side. You could continue to have conversations with him.

You could continue to see his small ghostly smiles and find him sitting there beside you, looking through pages of that book he never reads. You could have more time living, experiencing some good in your life – a good that was waiting on death’s door. 

Sitting in the chair beside you, his legs crossed casually, as though he’s simply there for the ambiance and not because you’re hooked up to an IV that feels like it’s siphoning the life out of you. Sometimes, you fall asleep mid-session, and when you wake up, you find him sitting exactly as he was, as if not a single moment has passed for him.

“I wasn’t sleeping at all.” you insist groggily one day, blinking the drowsiness away. “How could you even know I was sleeping at all? I know, it’s my body!”

“You were drooling.” he counters flatly, gesturing toward your chin. “Look, it’s still there in the corner of your lips.”

You hurriedly swipe at your face, heat rushing to your cheeks. “I was not!”

His expression doesn’t change, but you swear there’s a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. He could be a trickster when he wants to be. He could be silly from time to time. And funny enough with that dry humor that you could cry tears as you laugh so hard at what he says.

Despite his initial stoicism, Megumi starts picking up on your quirks, learning the things that make you smile. And most days now, especially now with these horrible and miserable treatments, you looked forward to them. 

Like the time he noticed you doodling on the edge of your treatment log and, the next day, casually handed you a pack of gel pens. Your face conforms to a confused daze as you look at him and then at the gel pens in your hand. There were so many that you don’t even think you could count them.

“How the hell did you get this, Megumi?” You asked him, your eyes narrowing at him. “Why are there so many?”

“They were free.” he said, refusing to meet your eyes as you stared at the colorful bundle in awe.

“From where?” you asked, skeptical at his response to you.

“Places.” He still wasn’t looking at you.

“Megumi.” you drawled, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Do you want the pens or not?” he huffed, crossing his arms in a way that made him look surprisingly boyish. “They’re really good too. I tried them downstairs. And they’re free. What? Is the security going to look at your bag when you leave? This isn’t a mall, you know.”

You looked at him for a moment, dumbfounded at his sudden ridiculous tirade. Then slowly, your tummy rumbled as you laughed and laughed. The notion of it all was silly. Still, you were entertained by it. Megumi seemed glad that you laughed. And that you went along with all of it. 

You took the pens, of course. You put them in your bag after he handed it to you. No one checked it and for the rest of the day, you tried them and made little doodles with them on your notepad at home. And that day, for the first time in a long time, you felt genuinely happy.

As much as Megumi claims he’s only there to “watch” you as part of his job, you found that it’s obvious he’s doing more than that. He’s doing the most out of all grim reapers you like to think.

Of course, you don’t know any other grim reapers. And you doubt you’d look sane if you tried to bring it up to another dying person. But your grim reaper, at least you, was the kindest. 

As you settle into bed, the hospital room bathed in the faint glow of a bedside lamp, you glance over at Megumi. He’s sitting in his usual chair, arms folded loosely, his expression calm but watchful.

It’s become routine now. His quiet presence is a constant that you’ve come to rely on, though you’d never admit it outright.

“I think you must be the kindest grim reaper to ever exist.” you say suddenly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. 

Your voice is soft, worn out from the day, but it carries the weight of sincerity. Megumi raises an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Do you know any other grim reapers?” he asks, his tone laced with dry humor.

You chuckle, a sound that feels lighter than it has in weeks. “No, not at all.” you admit, smiling despite yourself. “But I don’t need to. You’ve set the bar pretty high, do you know that?”

He doesn’t respond, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, maybe, or perhaps a glimmer of gratitude he’d never put into words. His lips purse into a flat line, as he looks at you. You could tell that there’s something in his green–blue orbs that you couldn’t read. But you knew better than to ask.

“Thank you, Megumi.” you say after a moment, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

“For what?” he asks, his gaze steady on you.

“For being the first good thing in my life.” you say simply, your chest tightening as you force the words out. 

It feels strange to say, especially to someone like him. You know you shouldn’t be thanking the person meant to take your soul, the one who will guide you into the unknown. But it feels right. You swallow hard, looking away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. 

“I know it sounds ridiculous. Thanking a grim reaper. But I mean it. You were... the kindest thing in my destiny. And I think that’s enough to be happy about.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything right away. He doesn’t need to. The faintest nod of his head, the subtle softening of his usually stoic expression, is answer enough. The weight in your chest eases as you let your head sink into the pillow. Your eyelids grow heavy, and you fight to keep them open just a little longer. 

“Goodnight, Megumi.” you murmur, your voice trailing off as sleep begins to take hold.

“Good night.” he says softly, his voice carrying a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

As your breathing slows, becoming steady and rhythmic, Megumi stays where he is, his gaze fixed on you. And he knows. He just knows—it’s time. Your time. The moment hangs in the air, heavy and bittersweet, but he doesn’t flinch.

This was always the inevitability, but watching you now, peaceful and free from the fear that had once gripped you, he feels something akin to relief. Perhaps even a quiet sadness.

When the time comes, Megumi will be there, as he always has been. For now, though, he lets you rest, a faint sense of solace settling over the room.

══════════════════

IF HE WAS BEING HONEST, THIS MISSION WASN’T EVEN FOR HIM TO TAKE. Megumi didn’t choose this assignment at random. No, not at all. That morning began like any other in the sterile monotony of his existence. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a pale glow on the rows of cubicles where reapers sat, reviewing their tasks for the day. 

He’d been staring at the dregs of his coffee, debating whether he had the energy to bother getting a fresh cup, when the assignments for the day appeared on the board—a mosaic of names, dates, faces.

He’d glanced up, disinterested at first. It was just another day in an endless cycle of endings. Souls came and went, and reapers like him did their jobs, guiding them to whatever came next. There was no time for attachment, no reason to linger on a single name or face.

But then he saw yours.

And everything stopped.

His coffee cup slipped from his fingers, shattering against the floor in a muted crash. For a moment, he couldn’t breathe. He blinked once, twice, as if his eyes might be playing tricks on him. But no matter how many times he looked, it was unmistakable.

It was you.

Your face stared back at him from the board, frozen in a candid snapshot. It was a face he knew better than his own, even after all this time. A face he’d never forgotten, not even through lifetimes of distance.

It had been so long since he’d last seen you. Lifetimes ago, you had been more than just a part of his world—you had been his world. The memories were fractured and blurred at the edges, but they still burned vividly enough to hurt.

He remembered your laugh, bright and unrestrained, echoing through a life that had otherwise been far too short. He remembered the way you had looked at him, your gaze full of trust, full of hope.

He remembered losing you.

And now here you are again, pulled into this cycle of life and death that neither of you could escape. But this time, you were already dying. You were going to go and suffer again, and there would be no one to save you. He couldn’t stop it last time. And now, he cannot stop it this time. It was set in stone already.

And yet, his heart breaks over and over again. You were barely more than a child, younger than either of you had been in your shared past life. You hadn’t even been given a chance to live, and yet the world had decided it was already time to take you away.

Megumi’s heart ached in a way he hadn’t thought possible anymore. He was a reaper. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But as he stared at your photo, the weight of it all crushed him.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you’d been taken from him once, and now it was happening all over again. This time, there would be no miracles, no last-minute reprieves. He knew that. He’d seen it a thousand times in other lives.

But he couldn’t just let you go alone.

Without thinking, he rose from his chair, his movements mechanical as he walked toward the board. Each step felt heavier than the last, his resolve hardening with every breath. When he reached your name, he stared at it for a long moment before finally speaking.

“I’ll take this one.” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The room went silent. Assignments weren’t supposed to be chosen; they were distributed at random to avoid any emotional entanglements. Reapers were meant to be impartial. But no one questioned him. Megumi rarely spoke, rarely asked for anything. If he wanted this assignment, there had to be a reason.

As he returned to his desk, your face still fresh in his mind, he made himself a quiet promise. He couldn’t save you. The rules were clear. Your fate was already written, and nothing he did could change that.

But he could be there. He could make sure you didn’t have to face the end alone, that you wouldn’t have to feel the crushing loneliness he’d once felt when he lost you before.

Even if you didn’t remember him. Even if you didn’t know that in another life, you had been his entire world. He would carry that pain for both of you. Because this wasn’t just another assignment. It was you. And losing you again, even knowing it was inevitable, would be the cruelest fate of all.

When Megumi first appeared to you, he knew he had to keep his emotions in check. His job wasn’t to interfere, and no matter how much it hurt to see you again, he couldn’t let the truth slip. You didn’t know who he was, didn’t recognize the connection you’d once shared.

And why would you? To you, he was just a stranger. A quiet, brooding figure who had been assigned to shadow your dying days.

At first, he told himself that keeping his distance would make it easier. That if he stayed aloof, if he acted like this was just another assignment, maybe the ache in his chest wouldn’t consume him. But the moment he saw how lonely you were, trapped in a hospital bed, tethered to machines, fading faster than anyone your age should—he couldn’t help himself.

It was the little things at first. Reminding you of a nurse’s name when your memory failed. Offering a quiet presence during your treatments. Bringing you that pack of gel pens when he noticed your fingers twitching over the edges of your journal, longing to create something amidst the monotony of hospital life.

But as the days turned into weeks, Megumi found himself doing more than he should.

He started sitting closer to you, his usual stoic demeanor softening with every conversation. He started bringing you small comforts—a cup of coffee he swore he “found” a scarf on the day the hospital felt too cold, a faint smile when you told him a joke, no matter how bad it was.

“Why do you even hang around?” you asked one afternoon, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and weariness. 

You’d just finished another grueling medicinal session, your body too weak to sit up straight. He didn’t answer right away. For a moment, his gaze lingered on you, something unreadable in his dark blue–green eyes. Then, he shrugged.

“You’re interesting to me.” he said simply, but his voice betrayed the truth he couldn’t say.

You laughed weakly. “Interesting? I’m a walking tragedy.”

“No, never say that. Not ever again.” he said firmly, his tone surprising you. “You’re more than that. You are more than your tragedy.”

The words hung in the air, and you didn’t press further. But in that moment, something shifted between you. As time went on, you began to look forward to his visits. He wasn’t just a reaper to you anymore; he was someone who made the unbearable a little more bearable. 

Someone who listened when you needed to vent, who stayed when the nights felt too long, who reminded you that even in the shadow of death, you weren’t invisible. And Megumi… Megumi was breaking all his own rules. Rules he had set long after you, long before you again.

Every time he saw you laugh, even if it was just a fleeting chuckle, a part of him swore he’d do anything to keep that spark alive. But every time he saw you struggle; when your hands trembled too much to hold a pen, when your memories slipped further and further away—his heart ached in ways it hadn’t in centuries.

He hated this. Hated that you had to go through this. Hated that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t change your fate. But he stayed by your side through it all. He lets himself relive it all over again, no matter the pain. No matter what comes. Because it’s you. Come what may, it’s you.

“You know, Megumi.” you said softly, your voice almost drowned out by the hum of the machines. “You’re not so bad to me.”

He raised an eyebrow, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his lips. “Not so bad?”

You smiled, your eyes heavy with exhaustion but still warm. “Yeah. You’re like... a friend. A precious friend.”

A friend. The word stabbed at him more than it should have. Because that’s all he could ever be to you in this life. A friend. A shadow. A quiet presence watching over you as you slowly slipped away.

“You think so, huh?” He asks you, as you nodded and smiled. Silence engulfs the room. “I don’t think I’ve ever been someone’s precious friend before.”

“Then we are the same. Well, almost.” 

He blinks at your words. “What do you mean?”

“If you call me your precious friend too, then we’ll finally have it. Being a precious person, at least once.”

You’ve always been a precious person to me. Megumi thinks to himself. In every lifetime, in every you — you have always been my precious person.

And even though he would never tell you the truth, that you’d been so much more to him in another life, that losing you once had broken him and losing you again was killing him all over again, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. 

Because this was his last chance to be with you, even if you didn’t remember him. Even if it would never be enough. Nothing with you would ever be enough, not even if you lived a thousand years. 

But, every moment is worth it, no matter how short it would be. When you love someone that much, it has to be enough. It has to be more than enough. He has to live through this immortal and wretched life, making those moments feel like they were as eternal as him. Even if he wanted more.

“Alright.” Megumi says to you as you perk up, your eyes shining. “You are a precious person to me.”

You giggled at his words. “Was it so hard to say? I am grateful that you said it at all.”

It was never hard to say. It never had been.

But now he has to live that memory over and over again.

He lets his lips echo a small warm smile as he looks at you.

“No, no it wasn’t hard at all.”

══════════════════

THE TREATMENTS HAVE STOPPED FULLY. And because of that your condition was getting worse and worse. The moments of clarity you once had were growing fewer and farther between. The pain in your body became an unwelcome constant, a weight that pulled you down even when you tried to fight against it. 

Every movement felt like dragging yourself through glass, and the fog in your mind thickened, stealing memories and thoughts before you could fully grasp them. Everything about it felt so fragile, and you were afraid of breaking it. Even if it was already broken, you were scared at seeing it break even more. You were scared and he couldn’t do much about it.

Megumi hated seeing you like this. He watched as you lay curled in your bed, tears streaming silently down your face, your breathing shaky and uneven. He hated the way your hands trembled as you gripped the blanket.

It was as if holding onto it might keep you tethered to something real. Something solid enough to bring you back to earth, to existence. To humanity. Hated the way your voice cracked when you spoke, each word laced with frustration and grief over what was slipping away from you.

“I hate this, I hate this.” you whispered one night, your voice barely audible. Your chest hitched with a quiet sob as you turned your face into the pillow, trying to muffle your cries. “I hate... not being able to think. To remember. I feel like I’m disappearing, and I can’t stop it.”

Megumi clenched his fists at his sides, his nails biting into his palms. He wanted to say something, to comfort you, but the words felt like ash in his throat. What could he say? That it would be okay? That you’d find peace? That this agony would end? None of it felt true, and none of it would matter to you at this moment.

You didn’t want peace. You wanted your life back.When you looked up at him, your eyes red  and swollen, the sight nearly broke him. You looked so weak, one couldn’t even think you were someone with such strength at one point. He hated this. He hated how miserable you’ve been, how pained you’ve been.

“I’m so tired, Megumi.” you admitted, your voice cracking as fresh tears welled in your eyes. “I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Megumi moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, as if he were afraid his presence might shatter you further. He sat at the edge of your bed, his usually impassive face shadowed with something raw and unguarded.

“You’re still you, you always will be.” he said quietly, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You let out a bitter laugh, though it came out more like a choked sob. “How do you know that? You don’t even really know me.”

He froze for a moment, his gaze dropping to his hands. He wanted to tell you that he did know you, better than anyone ever could. That he remembered you in ways you couldn’t even begin to imagine. But he couldn’t. Not now.

Instead, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours for a moment before he let it settle gently against your trembling fingers. The touch was warm, grounding, and for a moment, the chaos inside you stilled.

“I know because I saw it. I’ve seen it all, even for a while.” he said finally. “Even when you’re hurting, even when it feels like everything is falling apart, I see you.”

His words hung in the air, fragile but steady, and something in your expression slowly softened. You leaned closer to him and he didn’t mind it at all. He pulled you even closer, letting that warmth of him become even more felt.

“It’s okay to be angry about all of this.” he continued, his voice steady now. “It’s okay to cry. You’ve been fighting so hard, for so long. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

Your tears flowed freely then, and Megumi stayed right where he was, his hand never leaving yours. He didn’t try to stop your sobs or hush your pain. He simply stayed, letting you pour out everything you’d been holding back. And for the first time in centuries, in his entire lifetime — Megumi couldn’t help but feel unequivocally  helpless.

He was a reaper, meant to guide and observe, but watching you crumble under the weight of your illness was unbearable. You didn’t deserve all of this. You shouldn’t suffer like this. You had done nothing wrong, not in your previous life and not this one. But this was still your fate. 

And he hated the unfairness of it all, the cruelty of a life that had given you so little only to take it away too soon. If he could have taken your place, he would have done it without hesitation.

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t trade a life for a life. The gods do not have mercy in that regard. Fate was fate. He cannot do much about it. And he hates it. He hates seeing you like this. 

All he could do was stay by your side, no matter how much it hurt to watch. Because you deserved that much. You deserve someone who wouldn’t leave, even in your darkest moments. And Megumi would be damned if he let you face this alone.

As the night deepened, the room fell into a heavy, fragile silence. The only sounds were the steady hum of the machines and your quiet, uneven breaths as you lay spent from crying. Megumi hadn’t moved from his spot, his hand still lightly covering yours.

Your fingers twitched against his, seeking more warmth. The motion was subtle, but he noticed. Carefully, he threaded his fingers between yours, his grip firm but not overbearing. You didn’t pull away. Instead, your grip tightened just a little, like you were holding on to him for dear life.

“Why do you stay?” you asked, your voice hoarse from the tears but tinged with something vulnerable. You didn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the faint outline of his hand entwined with yours.

Megumi hesitated. He wasn’t good at this—at talking about feelings. He was better at quiet gestures and staying in the background. But something about the way you asked, so small and uncertain, pulled the words out of him.

“Because you shouldn’t have to go through this alone, jot ever.” he said softly, his gaze fixed on you.

You blinked at his answer, a lump forming in your throat. “But you don’t even know me, not at all, Megumi.” you repeated, weaker this time, as if you wanted to believe him but couldn’t quite bring yourself to. “How could you stay for someone like me?”

Megumi’s jaw tightened. 

You didn’t know half of it.

“I know enough.” he said finally. “I know you’re stubborn and strong, even when you feel like you’re not. I know you don’t like hospital food, but you’ll eat it anyway because you don’t want to make the nurses worry. I know you still draw on the edges of your notebooks, even when your hands shake so much that the lines go crooked.”

Your eyes widened slightly at his words and Megumi felt his heart clench at the way you were looking at him, like you were seeing him for the first time. And as though, it was the first time in a while you had known him that he truly saw you.

“I see you.” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every part of you, even the ones you think you’ve lost. They’re still there. You’re still here.”

You felt the tears welling up again, but this time, they weren’t from frustration or anger. They were something softer, quieter. You take a deep breath, to calm yourself for a moment.

And he brushes your hand against your own. He was so warm, even when your hands were cold. He warmed you enough back to life, even for just that moment. 

“You make it sound like I’m worth something.” you murmured, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips.

“You are. You always have been.” he said instantly, the conviction in his voice startling you. “More than you know. I promise you.”

Your chest ached, not from the illness this time, but from the overwhelming mixture of emotions his words stirred in you. It was almost too much, but at the same time, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to stop bringing you back to life. You didn’t want him to stop giving you reasons to want to live.

“Megumi.” you said quietly, finally looking up at him.

His name sounded different coming from you, like it carried more weight, more meaning than it ever had before. It was as warm as back then, when you would say his name and smile at him, like he was your world. Like he was someone you dearly loved.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer now, like he was afraid of breaking the moment.

You hesitated, your dulling eyes searching for something you couldn’t quite put into words. Then, with a shaky breath, you smiled—a real smile, small but genuine.“Thank you. For all you have done for me, for all you will ever do for me. Thank you.”

Megumi’s lips couldn’t help but twitch at your words, and for the first time, he allowed himself to give you a wide smile in return. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but it was there, and it was for you, only for you. And you knew that it was only for you.

“Don’t mention it.” he said, his usual stoicism creeping back into his tone, but there was an undeniable warmth beneath it.

That night, as you finally drifted off to sleep, your hand still holding his, Megumi stayed by your side. He watched the rise and fall of your chest, each breath a reminder that you were still here, still fighting. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Megumi let himself hope.

Not for a miracle, no. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe in those anymore—but for something smaller. He hoped that in the time you had left, he could make sure you knew you weren’t just a fleeting soul, a name on a list, a face on a board. 

You were everything to him, even if you never remembered why. And as he sat there, his hand still holding yours in the quiet of the night, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he could carry that truth for both of you.

══════════════════

HE KNEW THAT HE CAN’T KEEP BUYING TIME. That’s not how it works in this line of work. The higher-ups had been patient with Megumi for as long as they could. They had watched from a distance as he ignored the rules, as he lingered at your side longer than necessary.

He had been told once, perhaps twice, that his attachment was blurring the lines of his duty. But no one had come forward to confront him, not until now.

The meeting room was cold, sterile—just like all the others. It was almost like the hospital. It even smells like it too. The flickering lights did nothing to soften the sharp voices of his superiors, their words cutting through him like a blade. Megumi has always hated this room. As much as you hate the hospitals. 

He has lived for a long time. He has been in the reaper department for so long, he doesn’t even remember when he had started. But no matter how many times he stays in it, the smell will always linger and he hates it. Just as much as he hates the higher-ups, perhaps. Yet, he knew he couldn’t admit it out loud.

“Megumi, this isn’t working any longer.” One of them had said it, their voice cutting through the stale air of the room like a blade, sharp with frustration.

The council sat in their cold, unfeeling silence, their dark robes blending into the shadows that clung to the room. The words echoed in Megumi’s ears, even as he sat still, his fists clenched tightly under the table.

“They are already dying,” the voice continued, each word hammering against him. “You know this, you always have. Fate cannot be changed. You cannot keep delaying it. You’re prolonging their suffering, and you know it. We cannot let this go on any longer.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. His blue-green eyes stayed fixed on the floor, a storm brewing behind them. He didn’t argue, didn’t defend himself, because deep down, he knew they were right. He could feel it every time he saw you. 

In this way your body grew weaker with each passing day, as if life itself was slipping through your fingers. Each breath you took was a silent battle, and every glance you gave him carried an unspoken understanding that your time was coming.

But what they didn’t understand, what they couldn’t understand, was why he couldn’t just let go. Not yet. Not when your laughter still lingered in the corners of the hospital room.

Not when you still found the strength to smile at him, even through the haze of your pain. Not when you had thanked him—thanked him—for being the kindest thing in your life. How could he take that away from you? How could he take it away from himself?

“It’s not for your benefit that they should stay alive, you know that.” another elder said, their voice low but unyielding, like a hammer falling against stone. “Do it for their sake. The sooner you do it, the sooner they can find peace. You mustn’t prolong the suffering for your wants.”

The words cut deeper than Megumi would ever admit, a blow he wasn’t prepared for. His fists tightened until his nails bit into his palms, but he kept his gaze down, unwilling to let them see the flicker of defiance in his eyes. 

He wanted to scream at them, to tell them they didn’t understand, that it wasn’t about his wants, it never had been. It was about you. About giving you every last moment, every fleeting second that you deserved, no matter how much it hurt him to watch.

But none of that mattered to them. The rules were the rules. His mission was clear: guide souls to the other side, no matter the cost, no matter the pain. He was meant to be impartial, detached, but he wasn’t. Not this time.

As the meeting adjourned, their final words hung in the air like a noose tightening around his neck. “You have to let them go, Megumi.” the elder had said, their tone devoid of sympathy. “It’s not about you. It’s about them. Do what must be done.”

When the room emptied, Megumi remained seated, his shoulders heavy with the weight of their judgment. He wanted to argue, to push back against the inevitability they demanded he enforce. But deep down, he knew he couldn’t delay forever. 

He could feel the edges of your life fraying, could see the way the light in your eyes flickered, like a candle in its final moments. And yet, even as he sat there, alone in the suffocating silence, he made a decision.

Not yet.

Because you deserve those moments, however brief they might be. You deserved the warmth of the sun on your skin, the chance to smile one more time, the chance to feel something other than pain before the end. And if he could give you that, even at the cost of his own heart, he would.

But he also knew the truth, the one he couldn’t ignore forever. Time wasn’t on your side. And when the moment came, when the inevitability could no longer be postponed, Megumi would have to let you go.

Just not today.

Not yet.

He needs more time.

When the meeting ended, Megumi didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mind was too heavy with the weight of their demands, and yet his heart felt too torn to process it. He takes a moment to compose himself before he walks out. 

As he walked out into the hallway, he wasn’t surprised to find Gojo Satoru waiting for him, leaning casually against the wall with that ever-present, cocky grin on his face. The two of them had known each other for lifetimes, especially with how Gojo was now his boss. 

Though Gojo was the opposite of Megumi in nearly every way. Where Megumi was reserved and quiet, Gojo was loud and unapologetic. He hated the elders too, he hated the rules as much as Megumi too. 

But he had never let himself be swallowed by what he feels personally as he works. And Gojo Satoru knew that too well, when he saw that look in Megumi’s face. He had not taught him well enough to separate it all. 

“Megumi, hey.” Gojo said, his voice a little more serious than usual. “Can we talk?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gojo pushed himself off the wall and fell into step beside Megumi, leading him down a quieter hall away from the bustling administrative wing. He already knew what he was going to say.

But Megumi wishes he wouldn’t say it. Because when Gojo says it, it becomes even more real. It becomes even more true. And it’s something he can’t handle. Not right now.

“I know what you’re thinking, okay?” Gojo began, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. “And I know it’s hard.”

He’s saying it. He’s talking about it. There was nothing that would stop it from being real. Not anymore. Megumi didn’t answer, he didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.

Gojo  Satoru could always read him, could always sense what was going on under the surface, even when Megumi tried to hide it. He was always going to tell Megumi the truth, even when it was hard.

“I don’t get it, Gojo–san.” Megumi said, his voice low, rough from the strain of keeping it all in. “I know the rules. I know they have to go. But… but I can’t just let them die like this. Not again. Not this miserably.” 

He stopped in the middle of the hallway, turning to face Gojo, his face a mix of frustration and sorrow. “They’re suffering so much and miserable to boot, and I’m supposed to just… let them go? How is that even fair?”

Gojo’s expression softened, the usual smugness gone, replaced by something much more genuine. He took a step closer, his hands in his pockets as he regarded Megumi with quiet understanding. He takes a deep sigh.

“I know it’s not easy, kid.” Gojo said, his voice lower now, almost tender. “But this isn’t about what you want. You’re not their savior, Megumi. You’re their guide. You can’t heal them, that’s not part of the job description. It never was. You can’t protect them from everything.”

The words stung, sharper than Megumi expected. 

But it was the truth, the unavoidable truth.

This was a job, even if it meant the world to him.

It cannot be more than a job, not even like this.

“I know you care about them. Hell, you’re probably more attached than anyone in this damn place,” Gojo continued, the hint of a wry smile tugging at his lips. “But your job is to make them transition to something peaceful. To comfort them. Not to prolong their suffering because you’re too scared to let them go.”

Megumi looked away, his blue–green eyes burning with the weight of his own guilt. He could feel them water ever so slowly as he thinks about you, about everything you suffered — in all your lives. And now, when you suffered the most. He bit his lower lip. How could he just let it all go?

“I can’t just stand by and watch them die, Gojo–san.” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly, betraying the deep ache inside him. “Not like this. Not when I… when I care about them this much. Not when….Not when I love them so much.”

Gojo Satoru’s gaze softened further, taking a moment to sigh at him. He’d known Megumi for so long. He’s a good kid, he’s always been the best of everyone here, if he was being honest. But even now, he was still so human. And perhaps that is his weakness. He cannot be a reaper, and be human too. He cannot have both.

“I know, kid. I know.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “But this is the hardest part. You have to be strong for them now. It’s time. And you have to do your job. You have to help them let go. That’s the only way they’ll be able to be free from the pain, okay? If you do your job. They’ll be free. And it can be, if anything, the greatest act of love.”

Megumi wanted to argue, wanted to lash out and scream that it wasn’t fair, that this wasn’t right. But something in Gojo’s cerulean eyes made him stop. Gojo Satoru wasn’t just talking about the rules; he was talking about them. About the person Megumi had come to love more than anything in this world, someone who was ever so dear to him in each and every lifetime. 

He was right. He can’t do anything about death or about fate. And he was right — death was the greatest mercy, instead of suffering. This could be the greatest act of love, as it had always been in each lifetime. To be there for you, to hold your hand and whisper all the love he has in your ear as you go. To set you free.

The truth was hard to swallow, but the reality was clearer than ever. Your suffering wasn’t going to end unless he let you go. And if he truly cared about you, he would have to find the strength to be the one to guide you to peace. With a deep breath, Megumi nodded, the weight of his decision settling in.

“I’ll do it, Gojo–san.” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’ll make sure they’re at peace.”

Gojo gave him a small, approving nod. “You’re doing the right thing.”

Megumi knew it would be one of the hardest things he’d ever do. But as he turned back down to earth, to the hall toward where you were waiting, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what was to come, he also knew it was the only way to truly set you free. 

He just hoped that, somehow, you would understand. And that you would forgive him. That you would smile warmly back at him once again, when you meet him again in your next life. That you could love him again, if you can.

══════════════════

HE BRACED HIMSELF FOR WHAT COMES NEXT. Megumi stood outside your hospital room, his heart heavy in his chest. The hallway was unnervingly quiet, the soft beep of monitors and the occasional shuffle of nurses’ footsteps the only sounds that kept him tethered to reality. 

He had never been so sure of something—so certain that this moment had arrived. It was time. He swallowed hard, fighting the lump in his throat, before pushing the door open and stepping inside. Having done it once didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it made it harder. He’d have to relive this moment over and over again, like all the other times.

But he had no other choice. If you were to die, he’d rather it be him holding you. He would rather it be him you hurt, leave a scar only he could see. Megumi would rather that he would be the one to comfort you one last time, to tell you that he’s got you. That everything will be alright. Because you were together. Because he was the one taking you away.

You were there, propped up against the pillows, looking so small under the white sheets. Your face was pale, your features drawn and tired, but when you saw him, your expression softened, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

"You're here again, hm?" you said, your voice hoarse but warm.

Megumi stood frozen for a moment, the sight of you sending a wave of emotions crashing over him. You looked so fragile, so close to the edge, and yet here you were, smiling at him like nothing was wrong. Like you hadn’t been battling this slow, painful decline for so long.

He forced his lips into a small, bittersweet smile. "Of course I’m here."

You sat up a little straighter in your bed, your eyes trying to focus on him. There was a faint sense of confusion in them, as if the fog in your mind was thicker than usual today. You reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you sought his, and Megumi moved closer, carefully taking your hand in his.

"I didn’t know if you'd come today, you know." you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. “For the last time.”

Megumi felt the weight of your words press against his chest. You couldn’t remember everything, not anymore, but you remembered him. And somehow, that was a mercy. A small one, but a mercy nonetheless. He hated it, but it was all he had. It was all there was left.

"I’m always here when you need me, always." he said quietly, his voice unsteady despite the calm he tried to project. "You know that, right?"

You nodded slowly, as though trying to make sense of everything that was slipping through your fingers. The memory of his voice, the sensation of his presence, the feel of his hand in yours—it was enough to pull you back from the brink.

"I... I don’t remember... a lot." you confessed, your voice faltering, as though you were apologizing for something you couldn’t control. "But... I remember you."

Megumi’s heart squeezed at that, and he fought the urge to crumble. Don’t show weakness now, he told himself. Not with them. Not when they need you the most. Don’t falter. Love them, love them even if it hurts. 

“I’ll always be here.” he repeated softly, gently squeezing your hand. “You’ve always been important to me. You always will be.”

You tried to smile again, though it was faint, and the effort seemed to take everything out of you. "I wish I could remember everything... all the good stuff we did together. There was a lot, wasn’t it? Even before…..I’m sorry if I don’t remember it all. But I can remember you right now, Megumi. I hope that’s enough. I hope…I hope that’s alright."

He felt his eyes sting, but he held it back, keeping his gaze steady on yours. "That’s enough. That’s more than enough."

Your grip tightened a little on his hand, your eyes slowly drifting over his face, as if committing his features to memory, trying to remember every detail of him before the fog came back.

 "It’s always so funny to me." you whispered, a soft laugh escaping your lips despite the heaviness in the air. "You don’t look like a grim reaper."

Megumi chuckled quietly, the sound devoid of any real humor. "I get that a lot."

The silence stretched between you both, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It felt almost peaceful, like the calm before the storm. You leaned back against the pillows, but you didn’t let go of his hand.There were so many things he wanted to say to you. 

So many words that were caught in his throat, threatening to spill over. But now—now there was no time for them. No time for the confessions, for the truth he’d never dared to speak. He simply stayed there, sitting at your side, holding your hand, because that was all he could do.

When you spoke again, it was quieter, slower. "I don’t want to forget you, not ever, not now." you said, your voice so fragile, so raw. "But I know I will. I already am."

Megumi shook his head, his thumb brushing lightly across the back of your hand, as though to comfort you, even though the words he wanted to say wouldn’t come. He couldn't promise you anything, couldn't tell you that this would all be okay, because it wouldn’t be.

“I’ll never forget you.” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll remember for the both of us. Even when you aren’t here anymore.”

“Then….will you let me fall in love with you again, if I were to be reborn?” You asked him, tears in your eyes pouring down your cheeks. “Will you let me, Megumi?”

His breath hitches shakily. His lips wobbled into a small watery smile. “Of course, I will. You can love me as many times as you want. I’ll let you do it. Over and over again.”

You choked into a giggle. “Then….Then, I’m glad. I’m forgetful, after all. It’s good, you’ll remind me next time.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Even at the end, you were taking care of him. You were making sure he wasn’t sad. You looked at him, really looked at him, and for a brief moment, the confusion in your eyes faded. 

The fog cleared, just a little, and you smiled. It was a small, soft smile, but it was there, and it was for him. All for him. As it always has been. You take a moment, a breath. He waits patiently for what you want to say.

“I wish…..” you whispered, your voice trailing off as your eyes fluttered closed, exhaustion finally taking over.

Megumi’s chest tightened as he waited.  

But the words never came out of your lips. 

As you slipped into a quiet sleep, your breath steady and calm, Megumi stayed by your side, his hand still holding yours. He knew it wasn’t enough to stop what was coming. But for now, he will hold on. He will cherish the warmth that remains. 

It was the last time. The last time he would see you, the last time he would hear your voice, the last time he would get to make you feel comforted before you let go. And somehow, it was enough. Because you remembered him. And that was all that mattered now.

“I love you.” He whispers to you as he closes his eyes, letting the tears flow. “Goodbye.”

[loveandleases]

Tormenting Chris and Jade submission for balance: I forgot to ask how they'd react to the poly route with Kara X Isaac. Chris's desire to love and support Kara in direct opposition to their desire to judge any dynamic with Isaac--

Love having some balance. (Called for a scenario so rest will be under the cut!)

Chris taps along their phone, their finger hovering just above the screen, caught between pressing and not pressing, between action and restraint. One name. One person their mind refuses to release. They can still see your face clearly; hear the way their name sounds when it leaves your lips. Their expression is taut, posture rigid as they scan the apartment around them—pristine, perfect, just like their life used to be. Until you came into it.

A scoff escapes their lips as they run a hand through their icy-blonde hair. How typical, they think, people stirring up trouble, thinking Chris cares what you do.... How did they even know? Is it in their face? In the way their thoughts creep in, reminding them of what was lost—or what, no, who, they tossed aside?

Jade’s voice rings in Chris’s ears, the memory of her words sharp and biting: “MC was always so hard to please, always unsatisfied despite everything our parents had given them. Since they couldn’t have you, they settled for Kara. Isaac was just the cherry on top—a person with a jaded past that they could take pity on. Along for the ride, because everyone knows the rumors about Isaac. Never staying with someone for too long unless they get bored.”

Their jaw tenses as their eyes linger on the photo laid out on the coffee table—your smile, a smile they hadn't seen in so long. You give it so freely, so easily. To Isaac and Kara of all people. One on either side of you, Kara’s lips close to your ear, whispering something while Isaac’s hand rests casually on your knee. Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara, not after everything Chris learned. They deserve to be with you even less. The number of times they’ve seen their hand roam on people’s bodies…they shouldn’t be touching you so freely. So openly. Where people can see, where Chris can see.

The photo cuts deeper than Chris anticipated, and before they can stop themselves, their fingers are already dialing Kara’s number. Their leg begins to shake with annoyance, the phone ringing louder than their pulse. Kara always picked up quickly—never more than three rings. So why isn’t she now? Was there always something there? Was there something going on behind the scenes?

Were the two of you… no, Kara wouldn’t do that to me. You wouldn’t do that to me.

Kara finally answers, her voice groggy with sleep. “Hello?”

Chris freezes. It’s four in the morning. They’d spent the whole night obsessing, thinking about the three of you—disgusting.

Chris opens their mouth to speak, but the sound of Isaac’s groan and your voice cuts through the silence. “Who is it?”

The question makes their blood run cold. You’re both there? Why are you with her?

“Chris?” Kara’s voice breaks through their thoughts, sharp and concerned.

“Tell me this is a joke.” Chris’ voice cracks, disbelief flooding their words. They force out a thin, bitter laugh. “This is a joke, isn’t it, Kara?”

“Chris, how di—”

“Let me talk to them.”

“Wh—who?”

“Let me talk to my fiancé.”

The line grows quiet, and Chris can’t help but imagine the look that passes over the three of you.

“Former fiancé,” Isaac adds, a cool edge to his voice, as Kara reluctantly hands you the phone.

“Why are you with them?” Chris’s voice is quieter now, rawer, the reality of it all begins to settle in.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Another scoff. Chris’s anger surges, bubbling up and threatening to spill over. “Of course it’s my business. You’re my f—” They stop themselves, letting the word die on their tongue.

A heavy sigh escapes them as they lean back against the couch. “You’re my ex-fiancé. Do you realize how this looks? Fucking my little sister and her friend. After everything, this is how you repay me?”

“This has nothing to do with you. Who I’m with is none of your concern, Chris. Kara might be your sister, but you don’t own her, or me, for that matter.” Your words are sharp, almost like a smack to the face.

Chris’s fingers twitch, plucking at the photo until the three of you are separated—tearing you apart. “And Isaac, what? You just had to bring the trash with you, Kara? It’s not bad enough you’re sharing a bed with my ex, but now you’ve got your friend, too?” Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara. Especially once Chris had their background looked into. No, they don’t deserve Kara and they deserve you even less.

“Stop it, Chris.”

Despite the tightness in her chest, the guilt she carries, Kara can’t bring herself to yell. Not yet. “Don’t talk about them, about us, like you know what’s going on. You don’t know anything about it. We’re happy. I’m happy.” Her voice cracks, and for a moment Chris feels a feeling in their gut. One they’re afraid to give a name, because why should Chris Clarke feel guilty? “Isn’t that enough?”

It should be. Chris knows that deep down, under all the anger, the pain, and the jealousy, they should be happy for Kara. She found people who love her. But that gnawing feeling inside them won’t let go. The more they try to bury it, the more it consumes them. They can’t shake the feeling that you’re slipping further away—both of you.

For a long moment, they just sit there, lost in their thoughts. Kara hangs up the phone, but it doesn't stop the storm inside them from raging. Their words tumble out, raw and desperate. “You deserve better than that. Better than them. Aren’t I enough?” They know who the questions are for, and the thought alone sickens them.

[silent-stories]

𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘 - 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

Summary: When Noah was left alone to take care of his daughter about two years ago, he never thought he would find someone else he would trust enough to include in his little family. But things can change.

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x reader

Tw: parent abandoning their child, fluff, angst, crying, anxiety

Series masterlist

Noah’s living room felt warm, the golden light of late afternoon spilling in through the window, creating a calm atmosphere. You were sitting on the couch, a thick blanket draped over your legs. Luna, wearing her favorite bunny sweater, was sitting cross-legged beside you, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Noah was leaning back on the couch, clearly trying to act annoyed but already failing.

Luna had been waiting for this. His hair had finally gotten long enough for you two to try braiding it, and you was more than eager to help.

"Okay, Noah, hold still," you said, your voice light and teasing as you ran your fingers through his locks.

Noah groaned dramatically, half-sitting up with a roll of his eyes. "Why do I always let you do stuff like that to me?"

You smiled at his grumbling. “Because you love it,” you teased, your fingers working through his hair with practiced ease, slowly pulling it into sections. His hair were soft, and you loved the feel of them between your fingers.

Luna, who was sitting beside you, held up the first hair tie, her tiny face serious as she inspected it. “Here, this one first!” she declared, raising her little hands as she held the bright purple tie out to you.

"Thanks, Luna," you said with a smile, taking the tie and gently securing the first section of his hair. “We’re doing a great job.”

“Yes!” she chirped happily.

Noah, pretending to scowl, leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. “I don’t know why I let you both do this to me. I'm the only one suffering hare."

You leaned over and kissed the side of his head. “Oh, come on, it’s not so bad. You’re gonna look great.”

“Mh. Sure” he muttered, but the soft smile on his lips betrayed him.

Luna passed you another hair tie, this time a bright blue one, eyes wide as she eagerly waited for the next step. She was in full-on “helper mode,” even though she didn't quite understand the mechanics of braiding yet. It was adorable. You were doing most of the work, but she was right there beside you, picking out the ties, handing them over with excitement.

"We don’t have the pink one!" She suddenly declared.

You turned to Noah, feigning concern. “Oh no, we definitely need the pink one, right?”

Noah gave you a sidelong glance. “Sure, we definitely need it,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, but he couldn’t hide the little glint in his eyes.

You smiled and watched as Luna rushed off to her bedroom to find the missing pink hair tie. Turning back to Noah, you continued working on his hair, gently weaving the strands together. As you did, you couldn’t help but think how cute he looked like this—relaxed, with his hair half-braided, the strands falling in soft locks around his face.

"You look cute like this," you said quietly, your fingers brushing through his hair again.

He shifted slightly, his lips curving up just a little as he turned his head toward you. “Mh. You think so?” he asked, his voice quiet but with that familiar playfulness beneath it.

You nodded, your fingers still working through the strands. “Yeah, really cute.”

You leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, your lips lingering for a second. His eyes softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you, the teasing smile replaced by something warmer.

"Thanks," he said quietly, his fingers finding your hand and giving it a soft squeeze. Then, he leaned in and kissed you on the lips. Gentle and slow.

You pulled back slightly, smiling at him, as Luna appeared in the doorway, holding up the missing pink hair tie triumphantly. “Found it!” she said, grinning from ear to ear as she ran back over and handed it to you.

“Good job,” you said, taking the tie from her and getting back to work on the next braid.

Noah adjusted himself on the couch, his hand resting on your thigh as you continued braiding his hair. His touch was slow, almost absentminded, but you could feel the warmth of his hand through the fabric of your jeans. With his other hand, he reached down and pulled Luna up beside him, his fingers gently rubbing her little back as she settled against his side.

"You’re doing great," you said to Luna, giving her a reassuring smile as you worked.

Luna nestled into Noah, her head resting on his arm. "I’m the best at this,” she whispered almost to herself, her voice muffled against his shirt.

Noah laughed softly, his hand still gently rubbing her back. He glanced at you, his gaze soft and affectionate, before leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek.

You leaned back and admired your work, the little braids now neatly secured in place. "Yeah. Definitely cute," you said.

He couldn't help but chuckle.

The next day, Noah stepped into the the band's living room, Luna bouncing ahead of him as she ran toward the group. The guys were lounging around, but as soon as they saw Luna, they lit up.

“Whoa, look how tall you’re getting!” Jolly exclaimed, crouching down to Luna’s level. “You’re almost as tall as me now!”

Luna giggled, standing on tiptoe and puffing out her chest. “I’m this tall!” she said proudly, arms stretched high above her head.

Noah leaned casually against the doorframe, smiling at the interaction. “Yeah, except she’s the shortest in her class at daycare,” he teased. “She didn’t get that from me.”

Folio, lounging on the couch with a sly grin, chimed in, “She got it from me then. Being tall is not the most important thing, you know?”

Noah rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “Dude, we’re not even related,” he said, shaking his head. "You remember that, right?"

Nick couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, yeah, sure."

Matt, who had been quietly watching the exchange, leaned forward. “So, Luna,” he said, “what are we gonna do today?”

Luna’s eyes immediately lit up. “We are drawing!” she exclaimed, poiting to some sharpies and pens she left on a little table in the corner of the room the last time he was there. “I draw big flowers and rainbows, and sometimes cats. And daddy. And Y/N. And you uncles.”

Nicholas leaned in with a grin. “You draw cats? I really wanna see one."

Luna nodded seriously. “I can draw you one! But only if you color it with me.”

“Deal!” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m an expert at coloring!”

Folio raised an eyebrow. “Hey, does that mean you’re gonna be a famous artist one day?”

Luna’s eyes sparkled as she thought about it. “Maybe! I’ll make big art and sell it for a lot of money. Then I’ll buy ice cream!”

The group laughed.

“And you, Uncle Folio?” Luna asked, her tone serious but playful. “What’s your favorite thing to do?”

“Well, I’m pretty good at playing the drums. And I like fishing."

Luna looked at him with a bit of disgust painted on her face. "I don't like fish."

"I'm better at making music, don't worry."

Noah, who had been watching the interaction with a grin, suddenly caught himself thinking about Jason. He almost wanted to talk about the situation with the guys again but he didn't want to ruin the moment.

Maybe next time.

Luna turned to Noah and gave him a big smile. "Daddy, are you going to draw with me too?”

Noah chuckled. "I think I’m better at making music than drawing too.”

Luna frowned playfully. “I think you can do both.”

Noah smiled softly, already talking a sharpie in his hand. “You’re right. I can do both.”

You talked with Jason for the second time three days later.

The Breakfast Nook was rather quiet, that morning. You were behind the counter, chatting with Noah, who was sitting on the bar stool at the counter, drinking his usual cup of tea.

The bell above the door chimed softly as it opened, and when you glanced up, your heart did a little stutter when your eyes landed on Jason.

He was standing in the doorway, framed by the light that poured in from the street. He was wearing a light brown jacket, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing the tattoos on his forearms. His blue eyes scanned the room with an almost unsettling intensity, like he was looking for something specific.

Noah noticed him at the same time you did, and there was a sudden shift in his posture, a subtle but undeniable tension in his shoulders. You could see the way his eyes narrowed as he took in Jason’s appearance and the way he moved into the coffee shop.

You turned back to the espresso machine, trying to stay composed, but you could feel the weight of Noah’s stare, the quiet energy between you both, shifting.

"Uh-oh," Grace’s voice cut through the quiet of the shop. Her tone was sharp and knowing as she peered over from behind the register, her eyes already locked onto Jason. “This is gonna be fun."

You shot her a glare, but she was already smirking, knowing that something was about to happen.

Jason moved toward the counter, his gaze fixed on you. As he stepped closer, you couldn’t help but feel the heat rise in your chest. You hadn’t seen him for three days, and now, you couldn’t deny the unease that curled up inside you as he stood there, so close.

“Hi,” Jason said simply, his voice smooth, low. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes held a sort of curiosity, as though he was waiting for something, perhaps for you to speak first.

“Hey,” you replied, your voice steady. You waited for him to order, but instead, he just stood there, silent, looking at you.

You shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Noah, who was staring at Jason now, his fingers curling around his teacup. The air felt thick between the three of you, and it was only a matter of time before Noah broke the silence.

“Hi,” Noah’s voice was surprisingly firm as he stood up, his posture protective, his gaze not leaving Jason’s. “I’m Noah. Her boyfriend.”

You blinked, caught off guard by his words. You didn't expect that.

Jason’s gaze flickered between you and Noah, a slight raise of his eyebrows betraying his surprise, but he didn’t react immediately. Grace, who had been watching the entire scene unfold with a bemused expression, snorted quietly to herself behind the counter, stifling a laugh.

Jason finally talked. “Oh, uh, hi, man. I’m Jason. Yeah, I’ve heard of you,” he said, his voice polite, but there was something beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place. His gaze lingered on Noah for a moment before Jason extended his hand, waiting for Noah to shake it.

Noah didn’t move, his hands still firmly wrapped around his teacup, his expression unchanging. Jason’s hand remained outstretched, but Noah simply stayed there, eyes locked on Jason.

“Good,” Noah said finally, his voice low, almost bored. He didn’t offer his hand in return.

You felt like the tension in the air was thick now, almost palpable, as if the room had stopped breathing. Jason just nodded once, like he’d accepted the silent challenge. Then, without a word, he turned his attention back to you, lowering his hand.

“I’ll just have a cappuccino. To take away,” Jason said, his tone casual as if nothing had just happened.

You nodded quickly, your fingers already moving to prepare his order. He was still watching you, and for some reason, it felt like he was studying you, trying to read something in your face.

He paid for his coffee, gave a nod of acknowledgment to Noah—who didn’t respond—and then turned to leave. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but the air felt charged as he walked out of the door, the bell chiming softly as he left.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Noah’s gaze stayed fixed on the door, a frown tugging at his lips. “I don’t like him,” he muttered under his breath, his voice tight. “I really don’t like him. He was looking at you the whole time.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to shake off the feeling of unease Jason had left behind. “Well, I work here, Noah. It’s kind of my job to be looked at.”

Noah’s jaw tightened, exhaling a sharp breath as if he were trying to hold back something.

Grace, who had been watching the whole thing with an almost painful amusement, decided it was time to throw in her two cents. “I work here too, sweetheart,” she said. “But he was looking at you.”

You shot her a look that could kill, but Grace didn’t seem to care. She just smirked, clearly enjoying the chaos she’d just witnessed.

“Are you seriously gonna act like that wasn’t weird?” Noah said, his eyes not leaving the door, his fingers drumming restlessly against his mug. “He was practically undressing you with his eyes.”

“Stop,” you said, your voice sharp, trying to deflect the growing tension. “You’re being ridiculous. He’s just a customer like anyone else now.”

Noah shook his head, his brows furrowing in frustration. “Yeah, of course."

Grace chuckled and you shot her a pointed look, which she ignored again, and tried to focus on the customers coming in.

“Well, I'm going to the studio,” Noah muttered, his hand going to his jacket as if he were about to get ready to leave, but you stopped him with a quick touch to his arm.

“Wait,” you said softly, though you could still feel that knot in your stomach. “Are you... are you mad at me?"

Noah hesitated, but then he sighed, rubbing his temple. “No. No, I'm not. I just don’t like him,” he muttered again.

“I know,” you replied quietly, glancing back to the door where Jason had just walked out. “But it's okay. We're okay. Don't worry."

"Mh."

"Come here."

You leaned over the counter to kiss him before he left and when you felt his little smile against your lips, you immediately felt better.

"See you tonight?"

"See you tonight."

The soft glow of the nightlight flickered in the corner of the room, casting a warm, comforting light across the space. Noah was standing by the side of Luna’s bed, his hand gently brushing through her hair as she settled under the covers.

“Cozy, huh?” Noah said softly, pulling the blanket up over her tiny form.

“Mmhmm,” Luna hummed, snuggling into the pillow, her eyelids drooping. She yawned, then blinked up at her dad, her voice small and sleepy. “Today, Emma was talking about her mom.”

Emma was Luna’s friend from daycare, a year older than her, but that was not the important part of the conversation.. He turned slightly, making sure to keep his voice calm, even though he could already feel the weight of what was about to come.

“Was she?” Noah asked, his voice soft, carefully measured. His stomach twisted.

Luna nodded slowly, her little face tired but curious. “Yeah. She asked me how my mom is like.”

Noah was sure his heart skipped a beat. He swallowed hard, trying to find a way to keep the conversation light. He leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her forehead, his voice barely above a whisper.

“And what did you tell her?” he asked, though he already knew what the answer was going to be.

Luna shifted in the bed, tucking her tiny hands under her chin, her brows furrowing slightly. “I said... I don’t have one.” She paused, then, as if the thought had only just occurred to her, asked, “But why don’t I have one, daddy?”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, Noah’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes stung with something he didn’t want to face. The question was so innocent, but it was also a reminder of what he couldn't keep.

His fingers trembled slightly as he brushed a lock of hair from Luna’s face, trying to steady himself.

Luna’s big eyes were wide now, searching his face, waiting for an answer. Noah’s heart ached at the trust in her expression, the way she needed him to make sense of something that was far too complicated for a little girl to understand.

He took a deep breath, forcing his voice to stay steady even though it trembled slightly.

“Look, princess...” he started, his voice a little strained. He paused, taking another breath before continuing, trying to put the words together in a way that would make sense, in a way that wouldn’t hurt her.

“We are a very special family. Your mommy, when you were very, very little, decided not to be with us anymore.” His chest tightened with the words, but he kept going, pushing through the lump in his throat.

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I love you so much, Lu. You’re my world. And I’ll always be here for you, okay? No matter what.”

Luna blinked up at him, her sleepy little face taking in his words, though the understanding wasn’t fully there. She was too young to really grasp the weight of what he was saying, but Noah could see in her eyes that she trusted him. That was enough.

“Okay,” Luna said softly, her voice already drifting off, the sleep overtaking her once more. “Yes, daddy.”

Noah smiled faintly, relief flooding through him, even if the pain of the conversation still lingered in his chest. He leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

“I love you so much,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly but not too much for Luna to notice.

"Love you too." Luna’s eyes fluttered shut, her breathing steady as she finally sank into sleep, her small form finally at rest. Noah stayed for a moment longer, just watching her peaceful expression.

Then, with one last glance, Noah stepped back from the bed, pulling the door open just enough to slip out.

He gently closed the door behind him, the soft click of the latch echoing in the stillness of the house.

For a moment, he just stood there, in the dark hallway.

It was when he heard your voice that he realized he was crying.

You were still on the couch when Noah when to put Luna to bed, telling you he would be right back.

You heard him closing the door of his daughter's beroom behind him after a couple of minutes, the soft click echoing in the quiet hallway.

Then only silence.

You waited for a moment, thinking that maybe he stopped in the bathroom but you didn't hear any footsteps, so you stood up and walked towards the hallways, flipping the light switch on to figure out what was happening.

You saw him as he took a couple of slow, heavy steps away from Luna's room, his head slightly down, his posture tense. He wasn’t conpletely facing you yet, but you could tell something was wrong.

You walked toward him instinctively, your heart aching just from the way he was standing even before you realized that a single tear was slowly crossing his cheek.

When you reached him, you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. “Noah. Are you okay?”

He didn’t respond immediately. But then, as if the words you spoke somehow unlocked something inside him, his breath hitched. A shaky exhale left his lips, and suddenly his body wracked with sobs.

Your heart broke. You had never seen Noah cry before—let alone like this. Never had you seen him so vulnerable, so completely shattered. The sound of his sobbing felt like it was ripping through the stillness of the house, and it pierced you deep in your chest. Without thinking, you moved closer, standing on your tiptoes and wrapping your arms around his neck, trying to hold him together the best you could.

“Baby… what happened?” you asked, your voice trembling with concern.

Noah just shook his head, the sobs coming harder now. He couldn’t speak. The weight of whatever was tormenting him was too much to bear, and you could feel the rawness of it in every tremor that ran through his body.

You held him tighter, trying to soothe him, but his shoulder kept shaking under your hands, and you knew there was nothing you could say or do to stop the storm inside him. You pressed your cheek to the side of his head, whispering over and over again, “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. It’s okay.”

You felt the tears against your neck, and your own eyes began to sting as you realized just how much he was suffering. You gently cupped his face, wiping away some of the tears, but his pain wasn’t something you could erase.

All you could do was hold him, let him cry, and be there.

After a while, when his sobs had calmed just a bit, you reached down and took his hand in yours, guiding him to the bed. He followed you wordlessly, his movements slow and unsteady, as if he were in a daze. Once you sat him down, he immediately let himself fall onto the bed, his head resting against your stomach.

You settled under him, pulling the blanket over you both, and began to run your fingers gently along his back and shoulders, trying to calm the trembling in his body. He hid his face in your shirt, his breath still shaky as he tried to steady himself.

His arms wrapped loosely around you, but it was as if he were clinging to you for dear life.

“I’m here, baby,” you whispered softly, gently scratching the back of his head, “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

The minutes stretched on, and you felt his breathing begin to steady.

You didn’t rush him. You didn’t push him to talk. You just kept whispering comforting words, running your fingers over his skin and through his hair. You could feel the weight of his fears in every soft exhale, and it only made you want to hold him even tighter.

Eventually, he spoke. “Luna asked why she doesn’t have a mom.” His words trembled as he said them, and you could hear the guilt in his voice. “And… it just... it stirred something in me. I’m always so fucking scared. I’m scared I’m not enough for her. I’m scared of messing up, of not being a good enough dad. I let her mom leave... I should’ve done something. For her. I should’ve—”

You shook your head, your fingers brushing over his hair, softly. “No, baby. You are enough. You’re an amazing dad, Noah. Luna loves you so much. You did everything you could. Nothing that happened is your fault."

Noah’s breath hitched again, and he buried his face further into your stomach, his voice muffled but still desperate. “And I’m scared I’m not enough for you,” he said, his words barely audible.

“I know you love me, I know you wouldn’t leave me, but I can’t help it. I’m scared, baby. Every day. Every time I wake up and you’re not next to me, I'm always so fucking scared and I feel it in my chest and I don’t even know how to explain it… and now, with Jason back, I don’t know. I just feel like… like I’m not enough for anyone. Like I'm about to lose you.”

His words almost physically hurt you.

You could hear the rawness in his voice—the depth of his insecurity, the weight of everything he was carrying.  You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, your hand moving gently along his back.

“Listen to me,” you said, your voice firm but gentle, “You are enough, Noah. I've already said it and I'll keep repeating it. You’re more than enough. You’re an incredible dad, an incredible boyfriend. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. And I love you so much.”

Noah took a deep breath, the shaking in his body starting to subside. You continued to stroke his back, between his shoulder blades, your hand moving in slow, soothing circles, trying to ease the tension still gripping him.

His breathing began to steady, and though he didn’t say anything more, you could feel him start to relax under your touch. You could feel the fight slowly leaving him, the fear and the guilt starting to soften.

His hand moved up to rest against your chest, fingers gripping your shirt as if he were afraid to let go. You let him do it.

And as the night went on, you just held him, whispering reassurances, your fingers always gently caressing his back.

Your t-shirt was damp with his tears, but you didn’t care.

You weren’t going anywhere. You wouldn’t let him go through this alone.

Eventually, Noah’s breath grew even, his body still against yours, the last of his tears falling on your shirt. You kept running your fingers over his back for a little longer, ensuring that he was calm, letting the gentle rise and fall of your chest be the rhythm he could settle into. When you were sure that he had finally drifted into a peaceful sleep, you allowed yourself to relax as well.

You stayed there, the sound of his steady breathing the only thing filling the quiet room.

You watched him sleep for a few moments.

And only then, you let a few tears fall from your eyes, that, landing on your shirt, mixed with Noah's.

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[thisismeracing]

Hey, can I pleade request Mick dating a journalism major!reader in uni, (and she has to write a paper about something like 'a thing you find beautiful in everday life' or something like that and she writes about Mick, he reads it and realises she has feelings for him)? Please

P.S.: feel free ignore the part in the brackets

Beautiful things | MS47

⸺ the one where it's no secret you're in love with him, but he finally realizes it. ✓ mentions of food; friends to lovers; not proofread; fem!reader (she/her). 0.8k words

▸ my masterlist | my taglist | patreon guide ▸ support my writing by reblogging, leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece), or buying me a coffee

Mick had a rushed routine as a driver and a famous one. You also had a rushed routine, though you were neither famous nor a driver. Quite the opposite and your friendship surprised a few people because you were a journalism major who just like in the cliches spilled your coffee on him on your first day at the paddock.

One of your college friends who happened to have a rich mom invited you to a weekend in the paddock, and though every catastrophic scenario went through your head you said yes. As it turned out, you did make a fool of yourself, but it earned you a new friend, and just like everyone once told you, nobody is paying that much attention to the point of remembering the comic situation you got pulled into.

You and Mick clicked and had been friends for around two years now. You made it work even with the hectic schedule and the traveling. He would take you with him whenever it was near enough for a quick plane ride and you didn't have classes. That's how it became a thing for him to know about your assignments and help you with them. He would tell you that it was relaxing to read your writing, and then proceed to do it every small free second he got (there were shots of him in the garage with a sandwich in one hand and your laptop in the other).

Coming to think about it, you suppose that maybe that's how you fell for him. Mick was always there for you even when he was on the other side of the world. He would call, and text, and get you small souvenirs. He would help proofread your assignments, and ask about your day. And don't get things wrong, you have tons of friends, but none of them felt like what you had with Mick. None of them slept with their phone by their pillow waiting for you to sleep and waking you up if they heard you having a nightmare. You kept telling yourself that he was just extra friendly. That he was the golden retriever guy everyone talked about, but that didn't mean he loved you. That, though, wasn't enough to convince your heart and you saw yourself slowly and surely fall for him.

That's how you ended up writing about him in your last assignment. One he wasn't supposed to read, but you forgot you shared the online folder with him and that he opened it every weekend to check for new stuff.

There are many beautiful things in everyday life, but some don't seem captivating to us every day. I love the sky, love the way the blue can turn into orange, and somehow get mixed into a light purple. How at night you get to see different glimmers of stars, and travel imagining cloud forms just like when it's daylight. But I don't see the sky as lovely when it's winter and there's no sun or white clouds, just a dark shade of grey. [...] I also find the rush of people in the city captivating, each going on about their lives, taking the subway, strolling with friends, walking the dogs, and buying groceries. Still, there are days when I hate the rush, and I hate how the dogs will stand in the way on the sidewalk, how the subway is full, and how loud a group of strangers can be. [...] But then there are the people. A person. He drives just as effortlessly as he walks. And the days when he walks with me, the dark sky is beautiful, the dogs barking in the way are music to my ears, and the packed subway is full of bursting dreams and hopeful people. I'm one of them. I'm hopeful he'll notice me one day. I'm hopeful he'll love me the way I love him. I'm hopeful he'll see me just as beautiful as I see him. To me, he's the everyday beauty, not because of his sparkly blue eyes, or soft blond hair, but because of who he is. I never get tired of him. I never will because he's this kind of beauty to me.

"Wow," he breathed after finishing your paper just as you were walking into his driver's room.

His big ocean orbs found your frame by the door, and by the way he was looking at you, surprise etched on his face, you knew he read the piece and connected the dots.

"Mick...I-...I'm so sorry- I-" Truth be told, you were on the verge of tears, what was supposed to be a beautiful day started to feel like a nightmare. You thought so many things, thought he would hate you, thought he wouldn't wanna be friends anymore, that he would laugh at you, but he smiled.

He gave you that overwhelmingly gorgeous smile.

Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly, he was in front of you, still smiling, he reached for your cheekbones and connected your foreheads, taking a deep breath - something you weren't able to do because of your nerves.

"Schatzi, you're the most beautiful thing in the world," he whispered, and that small sentence was everything you needed to hear.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: This was so fun to write hihihi I hope you guys like it! - don't forget to reblog and comment if you do *mwah*

If you liked this piece and want early access to new ones and exclusive access to others, subscribe to my patreon!💘  ▸ check my main masterlist | patreon guide and my taglist.

©thisismeracing ― do not copy, steal, or translate my work; do not repost on a different media platform.

[soleilapproves]

catalyst - chapter 1

Life has many twists and turns- yours included getting rejected from med school and ending up as a manager for your burnt-out pro boxer ex-boyfriend. (Sukuna x reader)

Notes: fem!reader

fanfic masterlist / main masterlist

Gravel crunched underneath your sneakers as you dragged them along the pavement. You had been running around the city with tired limbs and a resume in hand, trying to get a job after getting your last rejection letter from one of the medical schools you applied to.

Thank you for expressing interest in our medical program. Upon evaluating your transcripts, credentials, and extracurriculars, we regret to inform you that you are not eligible to join this year’s class. We will gladly consider your application for next year’s class if you wish to reapply. You may contact the admissions department for questions regarding the next application cycle.

Tears threatened to fall from your eyes again. You had been crying about your future for the past week. With all the hard work that went into all those volunteering hours, internships, and research assistantships, you were sure to get in.

But no, not in the system set up in this day and age. There will always be someone more qualified and well-connected than you. And even if they aren’t, they will always benefit from nepotism. 

Your feet dragged themselves till you couldn’t take it anymore. You broke down, ass landing on the curb in front of a random convenience store in the middle of some no-name neighborhood. Tears spilled down the apples of your cheeks as they drenched your chin and neck. The sky roared, and rain began to pour down. 

You wailed harder and tried to drown out the noise by yelling curses at the sky. You thought of all the tests you studied for, all the diagrams taped up on your walls, and all the money you spent on your applications. You had spent so much time and effort preparing for medical school that you couldn’t invest in a plan B. You needed a job to fund yourself, at least until you could get back up on your feet and figure out what you wanted to do, but to your misfortune, no one was hiring.

There was nothing more agonizing than being led astray from your original path. You began to question your abilities. Maybe if you had just paid attention in that class, you’d have an A instead of an A minus, or if you had just volunteered more, you’d seem more competitive. 

But it was all useless. What’s done is done. You groaned into your pruned hands. 

Then, all of a sudden, you could hear the muffled sounds of raindrops hitting canvas. “Funny, you seem different from how he described you.” You looked up to see a white-haired figure holding an umbrella over your head. “Uraume. No last name. Please come with me.”

You looked behind the figure and saw a sleek black Range Rover with tinted windows. It looked like it didn’t belong in this neck of the woods. Great, you were rejected from almost all the vacant positions in the city, and you were about to be trafficked for the benefit of wealthy people.

“I have a mace, so get away from me,” you said while walking away, not putting away much of a fight.

“Sukuna Ryomen. I’m sure you know him,” Uraume continued. “He needs you.”

Since when did traffickers start doing background checks on their victims? Your stomach churned as you began to walk faster, trying to outrun the chalky white-haired person who was now hot on your heels. However, having not eaten all day, you barely had the energy to pick up your speed, so you pulled your phone out to call the police, which, to your misfortune, was dead. You began to sob as you slowed down, and you noticed that the Range Rover was trying to catch up with you. 

It began to slow down beside you when its window rolled down. “Hey, it’s me, Yuuji!” 

You stopped, and so did the vehicle. Yuuji, your ex-best friend’s little brother, was smiling at you. “Just hear us out.” The boy (well, now a man) said with the most sincere eyes you had ever seen. Uraume walked towards you, covering your now-drenched body with their umbrella. 

-

You couldn’t believe your eyes- the once scrawny little kid you knew was now a tall man. Yuuji’s facial features had changed significantly. His round face was replaced by sharp angles (much like his older brother’s), and he also sported a few new scars (the ones beneath both his eyes being the most noticeable as they looked identical). He walked you through everything that had happened in Sukuna’s life since you both lost touch, while Uarume guided you both through the VIP area of the city’s most prominent hospital. They also casually added that they had a private investigator look into whatever you were up to in the past month, which freaked you out. No one wonder they knew way too much about you. 

It turns out that after you two lost touch, Sukuna became a famous boxing champion. He didn’t bother getting into the details of how it happened, but as far as you know, Sukuna never really expressed any interest in it whenever you were around. Yuuji pulled his phone out to show you his latest fight- the reason why he’s so battered up. 

You winced as you watched the clip, having a hard time trusting your eyes. There were many things you didn’t know about the martial arts world, but it was still shocking that you had no idea your ex was a famous and skilled fighter. It was apparent he had a knack for getting into fights with how he’d defend you whenever a bully charged towards you or a creep so much as to even looked your way. It never occurred to you that his punches were just that precise and had less recoil because he was training to be a professional fighter.

Now, here he was, on Yuuji’s phone screen, being beaten and battered like a piece of rice cake being pounded by a human mallet. “I thought you said he was good.” You mumbled. “He is, but he’s been burnt out and has refused any kind of treatment for it.

You raised your brow as the three of you stopped in front of a large wooden door. “And I’m here because?” 

“We have tried everything. Yuuji has to return to his classes soon, and I have never been able to connect with that man emotionally enough to support him through such a tough time. Even his therapist says he’s a lost cause because he refuses to cooperate.” Uraume says as they open the wooden door to reveal a large, dark hospital room. 

It takes you a while to register what’s going on, with the only source of light being the skyscrapers visible through the floor-to-ceiling panoramic windows on the opposite end of the room. In the middle of the room, against the wall, was a large hospital bed with a few monitors surrounding it. In it, you could see a mop of pink hair. 

Sukuna Ryomen- professional boxer and ex-boyfriend in the flesh. The steady rise and fall of his chest told you that he was asleep. The sight led to an invisible lump forming in your throat. The last time you’d seen him in person was when you both had your biggest fight together. A shiver went down your spine as you remembered all the hurtful words you had spat at each other. In that moment, neither of you could believe you could’ve been that hostile.

You’d only ever seen him sick with a fever, and he was horrible enough to deal with during that time. You couldn’t imagine how he was feeling right now. 

“As his manager, I’d like to hire you as his… well, I’m not sure what I’d call this position, but you’ll be making sure he gets better and is up to date with all his treatments and training,” Uraume said as they took you and Yuuji out the room. 

You sighed. “You want me to be his nanny?” 

“More like a personally involved manager, but we can have Sukuna’s doctor come up with a better name. Something to do with your field of interest. Her name is Dr. Shoko Ieri, and she’ll also be sure to refer you to all the good schools in the country so you can enroll in the next session.”

You didn’t know what to focus on first- the fact that you were offered a job (albeit a nanny for an adult) or that your idol, Shoko Ieri, was ready to refer you for your next applications. You had only ever seen her present at research conferences, all while you both had a common link this entire time. You felt lightheaded- the feeling of hope finally returning after a week of non-stop anxiety fits.

“So, do we have a deal?” Uraume extended their hand. 

But then again, things aren’t so good between you and Sukuna. At least from how you see things. Your relationship with him ended on a sour note, and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you did resent him a little for simply abandoning you and never making an effort to reach out again as you did. What if you failed? What if this whole thing ends up being one giant dumpster fire? 

You hesitantly looked at the pale hand in front of you. But then again, there was no way to go from here. What would you do anyway? Your paid internships never led to any full-time positions, and you barely had any money to get by after paying your rent for the next month. You also needed to pay for all the new applications and supplementary courses for your resume. 

“You should do it. They don’t like shaking hands with people, so this is major.” Yuuji whispered in your ears.

You gulped as your heart raced. In different circumstances, you would’ve said no, but you have nothing to look forward to besides getting a part-time job, which you knew wasn’t worth it with an offer like this to compete with it. You placed your hand in Uraume’s cold ones. They quickly shook your hand and pulled away like you had the plague (“They have a small case of germophobia,” Yuuji said later).

“When do I start?” you ask.

“Immediately. Since this job requires a lot of monitoring, I’ll have a few movers get your things and take them to Sukuna’s apartment. You’ll be living with him until he gets better” 

You didn’t know how to feel at that moment, chest still tight with the uneasiness from before. What you did know for sure was that Sukuna probably wouldn't be happy seeing you so at home in his personal space. 

[painted-flag]

OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 19: The Scars of Betrayal

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 4.8k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Tensions rise at the war camp, threatening to spill into the human kingdom.

There was a long moment of silence as the information you and Aegon fed Daeron and Helaena sunk in. It was hard to prove without the physical evidence, but you and Aegon were determined to convince them. You started from the very beginning, from your father going on his trip to Lake Rosemagne and then to the moment you had been stabbed. Aegon filled in bits and pieces, moments in the past when Cole had made suspicious and altogether horrible decisions while on the council; especially vicious and cruel ones that heightened during the Great War. 

Once finished, Daeron and Helaena were silent. They sat in their spots and glanced back and forth between the two of you as if waiting for one to confess it had all been a lie. 

“Ser Cole is a longstanding loyal member of the council and guard.” Daeron’s voice was not coated in argumentative tones; he was simply trying to reason.

“Daeron, what reason would I or Aegon have to lie about this?” You asked him. 

Daeron shrugged. “Nothing… but you have to understand I have known him for almost two millennia. He should be given the common decency of innocent until found guilty.” 

Aegon became visibly frustrated as his gaze went down to your side. While the wound was covered, it was not an easy sight to forget. His gaze seemed so harden while looking at it, deeply disturbed by the violence shown to his friend. 

“If he was so innocent, why was he the first person after Aemond who came into the laboratory? What business would he ever have on this side of the castle?” Aegon forced out as his teeth ground together. The two brothers entered a stare-off. You then glance towards Helaena who looked nearly done with their behaviour. She got out of her seat and left the curtained area. You wish she did not leave, but you understood that this was likely the last thing she wanted to witness. 

“Aegon, I’m not saying I don’t believe you. This is just…” Daeron stood up from sitting on the edge of the bed and paced a small section of the room with his arms crossed. You simply sat there, not wanting to interfere in their conversation but also growing irritable. Each second that passed was a further second that could be used to prevent the war from happening. They seemed to forget that you were human and that it was your people about to become targets. 

“It’s what, Daeron? It’s pretty damn simple. Cole’s always been a twat but-” Aegon had stepped forward to go toe to toe with his brother, but the curtain shuffled once again and Helaena entered the room. The brothers stopped their movements and turned to her. 

“The guards have been called. I am assuming you will need around twenty?” She questioned. 

“Twenty?” Daeron responded. 

“Well, if you’re going to arrest Cole, I assume he’ll resist.” Helaena shrugged and went back to where she had been sitting. Her hands reached out to the nearby table and picked up her embroidery work to begin stitching again. You were more thankful than ever for Helaena’s willingness to trust and believe you. Since that day you had helped her, she had acted like a sister. 

“We can argue about the schematics of everything later, but now we need to get him before things escalate any further,” You reasoned. Your hands gripped the blanket and shoved it off of your form as you moved to sit with your legs hanging off the edge. The movement caused you to grunt in pain, letting out sharp and quick breaths. 

“What in the seven hells are you doing?” Aegon spoke as he and Daeron moved to try and push you back into a resting position. Their hands gently pushed on your shoulders but you shrugged them off. 

You shook your head, “I’m going with you.” 

“Absolutely not!”

“No!” 

Both of them spoke at the same time. You sighed deeply. This petty squabbling was beginning to push you over the edge. Nothing mattered but stopping this war by proving to Aemond that his advisor orchestrated it all. Aemond. You were terrified about what would happen to him. 

You loved him, simply and truly. It was not something you would have admitted so openly to yourself, but your close encounter with death had you shift your priorities. That state of dreaming you had been in forced you to come to terms with it.  

You needed to get to him before things became worse. He survived the last war, but there was no guarantee he would survive this one – especially if his closest advisor was so volatile and corrupt. 

“The two of you can keep talking, but I won’t be listening. Now, will one of you help me up?” You snapped. You looked up at them with the intensity a mother would when scolding their children for being too rowdy. They shirked back at your tone and glare. 

“If we’re going to do this, we have to do it right,” Daeron spoke, “I’ll organize the retinue of knights, simple guards are not skilled enough for this.” Daeron had finally relented his position but still had an air of skepticism. 

Aegon reached out to help you stand, his hold reassuring but cautious, “I’ll join you in that.” 

“Are you sure you want to come?” Daeron asked you, “Your wound has only just started to heal and we cannot guarantee your safety should anything happen.” 

You broke from Aegon’s hold and walked to him, only near stumbling once. You stared him right in the eyes with determination, “The bastard tried to kill me. There is no way I will sit this out.” 

“Good!” Aegon interrupted and squeezed his brother's shoulder, “Haven’t had a good conflict in a few centuries.” Aegon then gripped the fabric of Daeron’s shirt and tugged him free from the room. You looked towards Helaena and the events before you became clear. The risk of this, of arresting a high-ranking member of the court – an incredibly skilled one with a longstanding reputation – was not going to be easy. 

Bone-chilling dread had sunk into your body. Your first encounter with Cole’s wrath nearly killed you and this next one was likely to be your last; you could feel it.

It was only after Aegon and Daeron had left that Helaena informed you of the full story when you had been incapacitated. To your knowledge, you had simply been stabbed. However, Helaena spoke about the knife being coated in taint. You had almost become faint at such a revelation, overcome with the feeling that you were going to die. However, you did nearly faint entirely when she said that the cure potion had worked. A few of the brews by some of the healers after you had been stabbed did not work, having gotten the process wrong. The one that Daeron made worked. He was closer than ever to your work and had understood fully the process you had outlined before Cole’s untimely attack. 

With only one pot made, it had been expressly used on you as a last resort to keep you from dying. There was not enough to give to others, but Daeron had instructed the other healers on how to brew it. It would be difficult to make in large batches, as the use of dark magic and energy draining took its toll on each elf that brewed it. As soon as the first batch was ready, they were instructed to administer it immediately to the most severe cases. 

You felt accomplished at that. All of your work, of your father's work, had succeeded. That was why, as Amara and Liriel got you dressed in elven armour for protection, you had accepted the likely possibility of this being your last day in the land of the living. Cole would not surrender without a fight and seeing you there as a walking testament to him finally being caught would be more than enough to do whatever possible to finish the job. 

Pieces of armour were attached to your body as Amara and Liriel silently worked. There was no need to speak, as the severity of the situation deeply settled on the shoulders of everyone. There was a good possibility that this would be unsuccessful. The unsettling feeling of war loomed close. Cole may have gotten what he wanted - a second chance at annihilating your kind.

You were no warrior, but the armour was purely for protection should anything go wrong.  

It was difficult to change into the new pieces that adorned you with the pain of your wound. Daeron had been correct about your fragile state. It had been a deep stab, penetrating multiple layers of your skin. Each movement, any strain, would cause scorching pain to spread out from your side. There had been a few times when Amara and Liriel had to stop for a moment. You only allowed yourself some milk of the poppy; any more and your mind would be too fuzzy. 

When you were done, you walked out of your room to see Aegon waiting for you. 

“Thank you, lovely ladies,” Aegon spoke to Amara and Liriel. His smile was strained. One part was an effort to make the situation feel lighter, the other was likely to reassure himself. 

Aegon then looked down the dimly lit hall before he stepped closer, “The castle is only minimally guarded. Go to Helaena’s apartments, it is the most secure. Should anything happen, the stationed guards will protect you both.” 

“We’ll be fine,” Amara said, “It's your lives that we’re worried about.” 

You moved forward to hug both of the elves. For you, it was a goodbye. You did not wish to tell anyone of your looming fear, for they would surely make a big deal of it. It was best to keep things as chipper as you could with the weight of war upon everyone. 

“Stay safe” Liriel whispered in your ear before releasing you from her hold. You sent them both a tight-lipped smile. Aegon began to walk down the hall and you followed closely after. 

Silence engulfed you during the walk towards the stables. Nothing but the pattering of your footsteps that echoed against the stone. You could smell the burning wood from the torches that lit up the way and you never thought you would be sad about leaving. This place had become your home. You longed to spend the rest of your days walking these halls, experiencing the parties and healing more elves. 

For the first time in your life, it felt right. Yet now, you were marching towards imminent death. 

Upon reaching the stables, you found comfort in the twenty guards that sat ready on their horses. Daeron was in front and wore elf armour like Aegon. You had never seen them in such prestigious pieces. For the first time since you came here, they truly looked like royalty. There was a set of steps next to one of the two horses that were positioned in the front by Daeron. Aegon helped you up the steps and to mount your horse. It was difficult and you wanted to pause multiple times due to the pain but chose not to. 

Your hands gripped the reins with intensity as your knuckles turned white. You sucked in short breaths, anything longer caused you to be in more pain. When both of you were ready to go, Daeron nodded his head to the elves lined up behind and called his horse to move. From what you were told, Aemond’s camp was only a few hours away from the capital. He wanted to invade at the closest border edge, which happened to be near the village you had lived in. 

The dark forest had slowly disappeared as your company got closer to the edge. The trees were younger and scraps of light filtered through the leaves. The air became warmer and beads of sweat had begun to trail down your neck. You dragged the back of your arm across your forehead to wipe away some of the gloss that coated your skin. None of this helped the bitter fever that had taken hold as your body fought away infection from the wound. 

A camp came into view that was settled amongst the young trees. Many soldiers stood around both in and out of armour and conversed around the camp. Others were standing guard on their makeshift perimeters. Various tents and sitting spaces were erected to accommodate the rising numbers of elves coming from all corners of the kingdom. 

As your group made its way to the buzzing camp, a squad of elves marched forward to block your horses. You could see that both Daeron and Aegon took great offence to this. 

“Let us pass,” Daeron did not want to cause tensions to rise and spoke with a gentle tone. There was no reason to confront them with anger over what could very well be a misunderstanding. 

“We cannot let you in, my prince.” The guard at the front of the group spoke. He wore the typical silver armour with green and gold embellishments – the elven kingdom colours. It was plated and complex, indicating a higher rank among the other soldiers. Slick, greasy black hair hung from his head in tiny ringlets.

“And why do you refuse the orders from your prince?” Aegon questioned. 

“We have orders from the general to not let anyone in,” The elf responded. You flinched just slightly at the mention of Cole. The horse you were on sensed your unease and began to dig its hooves into the ground as it swayed from side to side. 

“Well, we outrank the general, so best move to the side,” Aegon dismissed the elf with a wave, but he remained steadfast in his position. 

“We may let both of your graces in, but the human cannot pass.” His beady eyes pierced through you and the same intensity of hate you recognized in Coles's eyes was replicated in his. 

Daeron scoffed at his words, “Where we go, she goes.” 

“Then I am afraid none of you can enter. We have strict orders.” You knew his excuse was thin. Cole had likely feared you living or any of the brothers figuring out what he had done. You were just being used as a piece on the board. If you had not been here, they might have come up with another lie to prevent Daeron and Aegon from reaching Aemond. 

“That’s bullshit,” Aegon then turned to the twenty guards behind him and they got the message to be on guard, “You will let us through, now.” At this point, numerous members of the camp stood and watched, unsure of what to do. 

“We do not wish to escalate things further. It is best that you concede.” Daeron tried to reason. 

Aegon shared a look with you. His head moved almost imperceptively to gesture onwards while mouthing ‘go.’ Your heart began to thump quickly at the implication. The horse you had been on had been growing antsy and was likely ready to sprint off any second. One, two, and three calming breaths came in and out of your body. One hand rested on your wound and knew this was going to hurt. Your other hand tightened on the reins and in a split moment, you spurred the horse on. 

It lurched forward and swept past the men. You heard shouts from behind you but were unwilling to glance back. You had no idea where Aemond’s tent may be, but you assumed it would be closer to the centre of camp. Thankfully, that intuition was correct. In little time you had skidded to a halt outside a tent that was significantly larger than the others. Other elves around had turned to look at you as you galloped near but went about their activities likely having recognized you and thought you had come simply because of your status as a healer. 

You were grateful that none interfered with you. 

Getting off the horse had been a near disaster. Each movement you made was painful and you feared your stitches would rip at any moment. You hunkered over for a moment once finally on the ground and wheezed. Steeling yourself, you moved towards the entrance flap that had been closed. You pushed it to the side and stood at the entrance. 

You looked around at the tent, cluttered with weapons, pieces of armour, and a large war table. It held a map of all the known lands and pieces were laid out strategically. You could not find a cot in your scan, instead finding a reasonably comfortable-looking chair with a blanket folded on it. If that was any indication of your beliefs, you would gather that Aemond had not slept or at the very least got little sleep. Even in such a space, you could smell Aemond’s signature scent of parchment, firewood, and spices. 

You finally zeroed in on Aemond who stood at the centre of the tent. His back was to you and you could see the armor that adorned his form. It was a contrast to his usual choice of leathers, however it suited him. All of the metal pieces, from the greaves on his calves to the pauldrons on his shoulders were coloured black with gold outlines; real gold that shined in the light that illuminated the tent. He had a long red piece of fabric that acted like a cape, strung from both sides over a single shoulder. The large broadsword he always had was strapped to his waist. 

In your not-so-humble opinion, he was a vision of phantasmal beauty; a spectre of frightensome splendor.

Aemond had likely confused you with someone else he had been expecting, too focused on adjusting the armour piece on his shoulder, “All of their lands will be burned as we move forward. For what they’ve done, reduce it all to ash.” 

It had come back to you again that he was speaking of your people, your towns, your cities that he wished to destroy. Your relief at seeing him had been knocked down with disappointment. Those flashes of memories you had seen in that trap between the living and dead came forth; you had finally understood his hate towards your kind for all the pain that had been inflicted upon him. You could truly see him now. 

“Aemond.” You whispered his name in both disappointment and relief while utterly breathless. No use of ‘your grace’ or any other acknowledgement of his title – only the desperate pleading of a name. His body froze and his shoulders squared up tightly. The red cape that he had been affixing to his shoulder fell to the ground. Aemond’s head turned just slightly before his body did as well. 

There was a moment of confusion that swept across his features. He nearly took a step back, but placed his foot forward and approached you slowly. You were overwhelmed by the look in his eye. For once, the blue ocean in his eye calmed and left behind a glittering reflection of a calm sea of adoration. He approached you, unsure and scanning the length of your body as if it were a mirage. 

You wanted to speak, truly you did, but his look sucked all the air from your lungs. You had never received such an emotional face from anyone in your life. He was right in front of you then, sweeping his eye across your face. The heat that started in your stomach moved across your body and turned the skin of your cheeks a dark shade of red. 

It was hesitant, but Aemond moved his arms around your waist and pulled you into a hug. It was clear, by the awkward positioning, that he was not used to expressing such sentiment. There were likely centuries that had passed between now and the last hug he received. You responded immediately and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. The armour led to a degree of separation, but you did not mind. However, his hold tightened after you reciprocated and pain bloomed from your side. 

A wince came forth from your lips and you flinched. Aemond pulled away like he, too, was hurt. Your hands went to your side, where underneath the metal plackart was your wound. You could feel the strain the stitches made on your skin. 

“I,” Aemond’s mouth opened and closed a few times, “How are you…” 

“Daeron, he’s a damn genius with stitching people back together.” You sucked in a breath as more shoots of pain rippled through your body. 

Aemond shook his head, “But the knife had taint on it.” 

You nodded at his words, “Yes but my idea worked. The cure… We did it.” Your lips wobbled. You were unsure if you were trying to smile or hold back a sob at the culmination of years of work. He moved his hands to cup your face, thumbs brushing your cheekbones. 

“You did it.” His words were light and graceful, washing over you in waves. It was a stark contrast to his attitude when you first arrived. He had treated you with nothing but disregard then – no human could ever come close to the level of intellect and elves possessed. You were glad to prove him wrong. 

The reason as to why you came so hastily pushed forth in your mind, “Aemond, it was not humans that did this.” 

“What?” His thumbs stopped brushing your cheeks but his hands stayed in place. You swallowed and shook your head. It would be difficult to tell him that his closest friend was a traitor – an elf colluding with sinister means. You placed your hands over his and hoped it would help support him when you exposed his friend's transgressions.

“It was not humans that infiltrated the lab. I’m sorry, but–” The tent opening ruffled with movement. Both you and Aemond turned your heads to watch Cole enter the tent. Dread and fear gripped your body and set itself deep in your heart which had begun to beat rapidly. Aemond’s hands dropped from your face, but you remained right next to him. You wanted to shrink behind him and hide and pray that this could all go away. However, the rage that built up in you at seeing the elf that tried to kill you overcame that fear. 

“Ah,” Cole plastered on a fake smile, “It’s good to see you up and about.” 

“No thanks to you,” You sneered. 

“You seem to be delirious. All of that milk of the poppy must be messing with your mind.” Cole moved to step closer, but you flinched back. Aemond noticed that reaction and held his arm out in front of you. 

“Are you alright?” He asked you sincerely. You swiped your tongue across your chapped lips. While your body faced Aemond, you were staring down Cole. There was no way you could look away from him; you would not give him an advantage over you. 

“Ask Cole.” You answered. 

Aemond looked to his friend with a questioning face, but Cole continued to brush it off, “Do not worry your grace. She is suffering from delusions, I can escort her back to the castle.” 

“Coward,” Your teeth gritted together, “Show him the marks on your arms. Show him the spell-casting marks that happen to coincidentally match those on the patients.” You were more thankful than ever that Lyra had brought them to your attention. That morning she showed you the marks felt like a lifetime ago. You were too late to save her, but not too late to kill the one who played a part in her death. 

“Or maybe show him the book that Aegon found in your room, the one with all that dark magic.” You finished. 

“Your grace, listen to her delusion. It is–” 

“Perhaps, most of all, tell him why you are still standing here after murdering my father.” By then you had been reduced in tone. Your lips quivered with unvoiced sobs and tears lined your eyes. You wanted to be brave, to face this with no fear, but your life had been nothing but that and you were exhausted more than ever. 

“What in the seven hells is she talking about, Ser Cole?” Aemond asked. His arm had wrapped around your waist when you had become unstable as you stood there. The pain in your wound intensified with your mood. 

“Tell him how heinous you are, how tainted your soul is.” The final accusation was laid out in the open. While Aemond may not understand what you said, Cole clued in on your choice of words. His eyes darkened and his jaw locked.

“I will not stand here and take such accusations.” Cole simmered with anger. He scoffed towards you and turned back to leave the tent. Once again, the coward was fleeing. When he left, you followed quickly after. The intensity of the glaring sun nearly knocked you off your feet. When you got out, you were surprised to see Aegon and Daeron already standing outside the tent. The guards that came with you formed a half circle. Cole occupied some free space. 

“Ah, good to see you, Cole.” Aegon had his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. 

“Let me through,” Cole demanded.

Daeron and Aegon looked at one another before turning back to him. Daeron’s lips were in a tight line, “Absolutely not.” 

“What is going on here?” You had not even noticed Aemond’s form behind you until he spoke to his brothers. He was close, with his chest just short of hitting your back. 

You turned to Aemond with a solemn look on your face, “It was Cole, the whole time.” His brow twitched at your words but you continued, “The taint, he played a part in it. He murdered my father and he was the one who stabbed me.” 

Aemond shook his head, “No,” His voice showed that he was clearly in denial. 

“Brother,” Daeron spoke, “We can tell you the truth after Cole is in the dungeons.” 

“Where are these accusations coming from?” Aemond questioned, “What validity could they possibly hold?” 

You turned to Aemond and rested a hand on the metal covering his chest while you looked him in the eye, “I know this all sounds overwhelming right now, but I promise it will all make sense.” 

“Then tell me now,” Aemond told you. His hand went up to cover yours that was placed on his chest. You did not know if he did it consciously, but he made no move to let go. Cole had been watching and his gaze intensified. 

You remember growing up, in the stories your father told you, that there were evil people who did evil things, but their motivations behind it were not always bad. He emphasized that a lot; he had always been particular in his ability to see the good in people, no matter who. You had taken those lessons to heart like all the other wisdom imparted to you. Evil was something that often came from desperation, either to protect oneself or others in some twisted reasoning. 

Even now, looking at Cole, you could not see what your father would have been able to see. Perhaps, there was no reasoning behind Cole’s motives. You highly doubted that. There was a reason, as deep as the secrets he kept. You hoped to be privy to it. You wanted to know why he had done this but knew there may never be an answer. 

Cole had begun to laugh. Not jovial, but strange and wild in temper, “Still now you listen to those things.” You were worried that he would make a miscalculated move and hurt any of the surrounding elves, but he seemed to be caught up in his reverie. 

“You betrayed your people… for a fucking peace treaty.” Cole’s words seemed to knock into Aemond and make a profound impact. In all their years together, you doubted Cole had ever spoken to him like that. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Aemond said. 

“The war. Those things,” Cole had raised his voice and pointed at you, “killed countless of our people, your people. And you just ended it all with a piece of parchment, like none of them ever mattered.” 

Aemond stepped forward to be by your side, “Our people had seen enough violence,” 

“That’s where you’re wrong. This time, we’ll take them all out. Starting with this spoiled bitch.” Cole had become nearly raving mad. He reached towards his waist and pulled his long sword out of his scabbard to point directly at you, only a person’s distance away. 

You were frozen in fear, staring at the glinting steel that aimed to strike you down. 

Chapter 20: An Elf's Rage Preview

Elves were immortal, but still susceptible to death. That you knew all too well in the eyes of your patients. The fleeting of their soul was something you recognized. 

That is why it petrified you to see that same look on Aemond.

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[vellazx]

Inspired by one of my friends prompts — Law x Reader (gender not specified) — Angst / Fluff

You were a Straw Hat.

The most perfect person in the world for him — on a different crew. You were someone who he couldn’t reach, no matter what he did.

He fell for you. Hard.

You always liked him. He was a pretty boy; perhaps the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen. Ever since you laid your eyes on him two years ago in the auction house in Sabaody, you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Hells, you didn’t even speak to him.

At first, he just believed you were some diehard simp who wasn’t genuine towards him. So he shrugged you off.

He was always rather insecure, not capable of believing someone actually loved him. Romantically, at least.

You talked (pestered) him the whole time he was on the Sunny due to the newfound alliance he made with your captain. Honestly, you didn’t really do a good job at hiding your feelings.

More like you didn’t even bother to hide them in the first place. You were so direct with him about how you felt.

Still, he wasn’t phased by your endless compliments and attempts at making him open up.

One night, however, he wasn’t in the best mood.

He said you irritated him. Bluntly.

After that, you decided to leave him alone. It felt unusual around the Sunny without your constant rambling. For some reason, his heart ached without your warmth by his side.

He told himself you meant nothing to him; only a temporary ally with good fighting skills he couldn’t risk losing.

However, in Dressrosa, when Doflamingo managed to capture you and him both, you acted strangely.

You saw how distressed he was, being helpless before the Warlord. Behind that tough exterior, there was a little boy, scarred from his past.

And, oh, how absolutely protective you got.

Doflamingo was holding you up by strings, blood spilling from every wound they cut into your skin. But you still retaliated.

Risked getting killed to escape the strings, all because you didn’t want Law to feel helpless. His emotions were through the roof whenever he realized you were trying to meaninglessly fight back. For his sake.

When you got out, you were a bloody mess, barely able to stand with how wobbly your knees were. Some of your bones were even broken.

He asked with wide eyes, “What were you thinking?!”

You simply smiled, and said, “You hate him, don’t you? I didn’t want to sit around and do nothing to help. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He met your gaze with an unfamiliar softness you’d never seen before. His heart skipped a beat.

That’s when he realized.

You fell first, but he fell harder. Way harder.

The whole time you were in Zou and Wano with him, he couldn’t stop staring at you. You shone like an angel in his vision. All your features amplified to make you more ethereal.

His teeth ground against each other whenever you got too close to one of your crew mates. Especially the blond cook. He swooned over you, and you laughed so wholesomely in response.

What he would do to just steal you for himself.

When Kaido and Big Mom were defeated, the whole country celebrating by holding a feast, Law offered to look around at all the games set up throughout the capital.

Happily, you dragged him around, completely forgetting that day when he said you were annoying.

He couldn’t stop admiring you as you indulged in the games.

His heart raced.

Ba-dump!

Ba-dump!

Ba-dump!

Gods, he couldn’t take it anymore.

So, he dragged you away, into a nearby alleyway. You flushed, asking him what was wrong. He was so red in the face that he looked feverish.

He hadn’t even touched you, yet he was drunk off of you. That same warmth he craved and missed.

Before you could question him any further, his lips brushed against yours, his hold on your wrist tightening. You gasped against him, not expecting the intimate contact.

Eagerly, you kissed him back.

He loved you too much for his own good.

“Come with me. Please. Leave this country with me.”

“Tra-.. Law. You know I can’t… I can’t do that.”

Fuck.

When he had to leave you behind, it felt like he was leaving half of his heart behind. With someone else. Under someone else’s supervision.

If anything happened to you, he’d steal you away without even asking for your permission.

But if something happened to him…

He just wanted you to know that he loved you.

[mamasfavourite]

Hi your axel fic was really good! I was wondering if you could write a fic about kwon and a Miyagi-Do reader.Enemies to lovers lots of tension.

thank you so much and thank you aswell for requesting, i had sm fun with writing this!! i hope you enjoy :)

locker room

pairing: kwon jae-sung x reader

summary: kwon and y/n hated eachother, because of a little incident on the first day.. and because of the karate thing. but kwon can’t help but flirt around a little bit.

warnings: stupid rivalry, enemies to lovers!, kissing, making out, kwon is sassy, flirting, swearing,

you were so excited to be on the miyagi-do team for the sekai takai! you weren’t captain, but you didn’t mind at all because you had your best friend, sam, there with you and you knew your capabilities under pressure.

it was practically your natural state at this point :)

you and sam decided to share a room in barcelona. which was probably for the better, considering neither of you wanted to share with the boys, except for maybe sam and miguel.

after an insanely long flight, you arrived at the hotel and immediately dropped your backpack to your bed and felt each tired muscle in your back start to decompress.

you went to shower, wanting to rinse off the dirt from travelling. after washing your hair and body, you stepped out and dried yourself off. you brushed through your knotted, wet hair and put on some baggy shorts and an off-shoulder tshirt.

it was around 5:30pm, which meant it was around 8am back home, most of your team wouldn’t even be awake yet. you went back into the main area of the room and saw sam laying on her bed, scrolling on her phone.

“i’m gonna go down to the buffet and see if i can grab something to eat, do you want anything?” you asked her and she wearily looked up from her phone and replied with a “no, thanks!”

you smiled and acknowledged her response before you put on some sneakers and grabbed your phone and room key from on top the dresser, and headed out. you made your way to the elevator and managed to find the open buffet nearby the reception.

the buffet was relatively empty, which wasn’t surprising due to the lack of people who typically had an appetite at 5:30pm. there was one or two people in the corner, eating something you couldn’t quite make out, and someone else on the right hand side of the room.

you grabbed two pieces of a brown bread at the back of the serving tray. once you did, you grabbed a selection of butter, avocado and some smoked salmon, putting it beside the bread on your plate. yum!

you grabbed some tissues, and a knife and fork and began to walk back towards the elevator. the elevator was empty, so your ride was quite peaceful. you held the plate with both hands, the knife and fork, and napkin were balanced in your right hand.

you were so focused on holding onto your plate and keeping it steady, that as soon as you heard the elevator doors open with a ding!, you stepped out and immediately collided with a tall figure infront of you.

you watched in horror as the slimier foods slid down the person’s body and your plate landed on the carpet with a soft thump. you tilted your head upwards to look at their reaction before you frantically apologised.

of course, he was fucking gorgeous. the first enemy you make for yourself in barcelona was one of the most handsome men you had ever seen. he glared down at you which such anger. “what the fuck?” he said, with a thick, korean accent.

damn even his voice was hot!

as you came back up again you began to apologise. “i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to spill that on you, i can help you clean it or-“ you paused your rambling as you watched the guy continue to glare at you angrily through your speech.

his gaze was filled with nothing but fury. “don’t let it fucking happen again.” he bumped your shoulder as he walked past you, to the elevator. you knelt back down to the floor to clean up as much as you could, before you just went back to your room.

you saw him again the next day. the sekai takai had organised a field trip to the barcelona aquarium. there was a lot of different people there, but only one really stood out to you, and that was kwon.

well, clearly he stood out, i mean he was yelling at everyone, challenging all of the dojo captains to a kicking contest, and of course, robby couldn’t just step aside for once.

you were peacefully drinking your water, as the boys spoke, and it was safe to say you had zoned out completely. that was until you heard what they were betting. you coughed and spluttered, putting your water bottle into sam’s hands and struggling to speak for a second.

“sorry what?” you asked, with a mix of confusion and embarrassment. kwon’s head turns to you with his signature smirk, one you only noticed now, as before he had only thrown scowls your way.

“i said..” he paused and took one step closer to you. “if he wins, he gets my room, if i win, i get yours.” he delivered with a wink. you felt your cheeks heat up, confused as to why this was because you were enraged.

“what, how is that fair, i’m not even playing?” you answered, angry that your room was being gambled away without your consent. your weight shifted from one foot to the other.

“oh relax, sweetheart, i wouldn’t kick you out or anything.” he flirted with you once more before he turned his body back to robby and held out his hand

“deal.” robby answered, and they shook on it. you gasped, and pushed robby in the chest. but at the same time, you were confused because why would this hot guy from the elevator, who DESPISES you, want the key to your room?

despite his skills, robby somehow lost the competition and you find yourself face to face with kwon. “hand over the room key, princess.” you wanted nothing more than to wipe the stupid smirk off his face and tell him to leave you alone. your response was only a little bit nicer than that. “no.” you replied, your gaze shifting around the room, as you felt scared to look him in the eyes.

“if you’re gonna try to reject me, at least look in my eyes when you do it.” he spoke, his voice low and commanding. something about it made you wanna listen, and so you did.

you stared into his dark eyes and repeated yourself. “i don’t want to give you my room key.” he chuckled to himself, under his breath. you maintained eye contact, not wanting to pull away.

he rolled his eyes at your attitude. “okay, well i’m gonna talk to your captain over there, and sort this out because a deal is a deal.” he replied and started walking over to robby.

they argued back and forth for a while but in the end, you didn’t have to sleep in a room with kwon. much to his dismay, robby gave up him and miguel’s room and had to share with the other boys.

your next interaction happened on the day of the final. cobra kai had narrowly escaped elimination and were going to fight in the last round. the matches were 30 minutes from starting and you had only then realised that you wouldn’t have another opportunity to go back inside the locker rooms and you left your water bottle there.

you ran over to the shared locker rooms, one you coincidentally shared with cobra kai, as soon as you arrived, you found yourself stopped in the doorway watching as the very guy you had secretly hoped to see was there, packing up some of his gear.

the large metal door was propped open by a small wooden doorstop, a detail that you had missed in the midst of your staring. you took a step forward and knocked over the doorstop. you stumbled, nearly falling to the ground.

kwon turned around at this and let out a small laugh at your misfortune, but he shut up as soon as he realised the door was shut and could not be opened from the inside.

“do you have any idea what you just did.” he practically growled at you. he was absolutely enraged, but he didn’t seem as angry as he had been during the elevator incident. you apologised but he still seemed quite angry.

you sat down against the wall, and he sat on a bench across from you. there was quite a loud silence between you, except for the quiet whirring of the fan above you. you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of kwon. he bothered you, and confused you and made you feel things and ugh.

you hated him, but most of all you hated his karate. wait.. maybe you could start a conversation about that! “what got you into cobra kai?” you asked him.

you looked up at him and he met your gaze. he swallowed, and left the silence there for a moment as he thought of what to say.

“well, i was in a dojang before, do you know what that is?” he replied and you nodded along, your interest piqued.

“so my kwanjang was incredibly conservative. she knew one style of teaching and disciplined anyone who didn’t feel comfortable with it. it was rough, it was such a fucked up environment, but then sensei kreese came and she never relaxed but he helped me seize my power, and i haven’t really looked back since then.”

he spoke with conviction and you were surprised by his sincerity. you thought for a moment, never taking your eyes off his and replied. “i get that.”

a beat passed. “but cobra kai is angry, it’s viscous, and there’s no ethics to it. no mercy is not how the real world works.”

he swallowed and nodded, accepting the weight of your words, and you were impressed that he was so considerate of you. he matched your behaviour, taking his time to think of what to say before he replied.

“well, look. at the end of the day, i have to look out for myself. i know who i am and no dojo can change it.”

you accepted his answer, truth be told, you fully agreed. and your impression of him completely shifted. you shivered slightly, the room had turned quite cold. kwon noticed and you watched as he removed the cobra kai hoodie he wore over his gi.

he offered it to you which you gladly accepted, and flushed a little. he scooted across the floor to hand it over to you.

he was really close and he brushed his fingers over your wrist as he handed it to you. you put it on, and he felt something inside him flutter as he saw you in his clothes.

you glanced at him and he was so close you couldn’t feel your legs anymore. you couldn’t feel your fingers or the emptiness of the room because all you paid attention to was his gaze, that was still never left you.

his expression turned vulnerable as he put a hand to your cheek. “please don’t hit me for this…” he whispered, as he leaned in close to you and kissed you.

his lips were soft and you couldn’t help but wrap your fingers around his collar to pull him closer to you. you kissed him with passion and at some point, you pulled back, out of breath.

he seemed even more vulnerable for a moment, thinking he was just rejected. “do you want me to stop?” he asked you, his voice laced with a worry that you found difficult to detect.

you panted for a second, your hands never leaving his collar and your eyes never leaving his. “just the opposite, please.” you mumbled breathily against his lips as you pulled him back in, reconnecting your lips.

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What should I focus on right now for long-lasting good vibes ?

When I leave Juice WRLD, I'm back to pink hair !

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PILE 1

Sweetheart, here’s what your heart needs to hear:

This moment is about embracing the magic of you. You’re a radiant Queen, with warmth in your soul and power in your every move. Taking this time for yourself isn’t stepping away from love—it’s leaning deeper into the one you have with your own spirit.

You’ve found something beautiful, something healthy and whole, but it’s okay to let it breathe. You’re not losing anything; you’re creating space to grow into the love that feels so new. Focus on nurturing your passions, tending to your dreams, and grounding yourself in your own brilliance.

The love will wait—it’s strong enough to do that. And in the meantime, remember: you are more than worthy of all the goodness coming your way.

What should I focus on right now for long-lasting growth?

Y’all took a fat L in your finance. It could be that maybe you were born in a poor family or maybe you maxed out your credit card at a super young age. Another scenario is comin through, some of y’all were financial abuse by your own parents. You were here paying one of our family members' medical bills while paying for your school. The situation of your family was a wake up call for you because you never knew they were in so much debt (And they fucking expected you to saved them… let  me move on … I said I was going to be more gentle). Any ways most people would have scramble under so much pressure but you were determined to rise the fuck up. You motherfucking did ! CONGRATS !!!!!! Since you know how it feels to live in such a deprived state you put everything in your power not to fall back into it. You have built quite the financial literacy. Unlike your family you are sitting hoping for a miracle, you prefer having control over your own life. You let go off a good suitor that was going to give you stability. The ring, the house and the kids but you want more. You spent the last year living a basic life to save you and your family. Now you want to experiment with your looks, activities and learn more about your own desire. Don’t hate yourself because you choose’’ you’’ and sometimes choosing is not about a reason but a feeling. Believe me if they said they are going to wait… they are probably waiting. Don’t feel guilty because they are rooting for you and your happiness.

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PILE 2

Bestie, let me tell you something magical:

Focus on living in the beauty of your truth, unapologetically. Let your heart be guided by clarity, not illusions. You've grown, you've blossomed, and not everyone deserves to witness the garden you've nurtured. Some will see your glow and mistake it for something they can dim, but you know better.

Surround yourself with those who celebrate your growth, not those who sulk in the shadow of it. It’s okay to leave behind the ones who can’t appreciate the masterpiece you’ve become. Their energy was never meant to shape your future—it was meant to teach you what to protect.

Right now, bestie, the vibes are all about you. Shine boldly, love fiercely, and walk away from anything that makes your soul feel heavy. You’re stepping into your best self, and it’s time to embrace the joy of that without looking back.

What should I focus on right now for long-lasting growth?

Y’all just moved to your new house. You may be in decorating mode, making sure to buy all the essentials, making sure to organize the bills and if you need to renovate mama/papi is turning to DIY Bob the Builder. First of all, motherfucking CONGRATS! Moving in this economy is like one of the biggest achievements. You are advised to go hangout in your community doing something that resonates with you. Whether going to the movies, reading club, knitting classes or walking around in the mall or the park near your house. Because you may be feeling lonely and you hate going out on your own because it is making a matter worse but somebody is going to strike up a conversation with you. Y’all going to enter a new friend group that's going to feel like family. Head up Pile  2 the same way they are open about their emotions let them in because I swear all they want to do is know you, see you and love you. Also this feeling of wanting community may be new because you got so accustomed to being the ‘’weird kid’’ that nobody really wants to deal with but thank God you did not change because your soul family is one greeting away. 

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PILE 3

Darling, let me wrap you in some truth:

This moment is yours to reclaim. You’re standing tall, blooming in your own power like the Empress you are—creative, abundant, and unstoppable. Staying firm in your decision to hold that no-contact boundary isn’t just strength; it’s self-love in its purest form.

You’re no longer chasing love that left you questioning your worth. You’ve grown beyond that, and now you’re building a life where your heart beats freely, unburdened by the echoes of what was. Focus on your business, your passions, your empire. Every step you take is a step toward the future you deserve.

Let them wonder about your glow from afar. You’re not here to dim your light for anyone who couldn’t see it before. Keep shining, bestie. Your journey is just beginning, and it’s a masterpiece in the making.

What should I focus on right now for long-lasting growth?

First congrats on your pregnancy. Y’all always wanted a kid and you actually thought that the father had his shit together but when it comes to standing for your baby or your ex. Is always going to your bundle of joy. On the other hand I feel like y’all are never going to do it again. Like pregnancy is not a fun experience. Y’all are not living a traumatic experience but just feeling uncomfortable all the time … ain’t it baby. Also you are so ready to meet your little one.

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2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)

3) ALL READING ON SALE (70% OFF) (Recent review 🎀)