#something about finding out you've always been nothing more than a bad memory.

[deva-arts]

Lots of Noxes because it's about time his lore started dropping

something something feeling like you're inherently abominable, unloveable and cursed to be despised so you embrace your unpalatability and save your cares for yourself because at least monsters get to sleep with a full stomach

Something something getting used to emptiness and deciding it's your new normal except you've developed hedonistic and antisocial tendencies because sex, drugs, power and control has become the only way you can feel warmth in your life that's almost like love but far less lasting and you're always left with that taste in your mouth no matter how much you consume

Nox is a big ball of fuckupedness.

[animasola86]

🐺 A FILLING EXPERIENCE

knotting!dildo x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 9.8k

You were a little drunk and very horny when you browsed the website looking for a new sex toy. When your order arrives, however, you feel like you did something very wrong. Or did you? Maybe it'll grow on you? (Not sure that's a good thing, though.) Prepare for a wild ride.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Sex toys! Possessed sex toys. Masturbation. Knotting. Referenced werewolves. Referenced A/B/O dynamics. Possession. Vaginal sex. Breeding. Memory loss. (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: The prompt was "knotting, masturbation, sex toys". The pairing is what it is. For a reference picture of the star of the show (aka the dildo) check it on AO3! (Also, very surprisingly, but this is not an ad for Bad Dragon, I swear.)

You spend a whole minute staring at the item you just pulled out of the unassuming box. The sheer size of it both makes your head spin and mouth very, very dry (at the same time, you feel a growing wetness somewhere much lower). Wow. Just wow. What is that thing? You're absolutely sure you ordered it in a different size, the smallest to be exact, so this can't be right.

Licking your lips, you blink, focusing back on the packaging. There isn't anything on the box, but you find a little sheet of paper next to the satin bag it came with. The dimensions listed make you frown. Putting the hefty item back on your desk, you fumble for the ruler you keep in one of the drawers. Then you start measuring the damn thing.

It's almost nine inches long, if you dismiss the large base that holds it steady to any surface. The head is the smallest part, two inches wide and tapered, the shaft flares out then, you measure two and a half inches in width, sloping into a soft curve lined with ridges and little nubs, before the main attraction protrudes in a rather menacing way: the knot, two bulbous bumps, and they even added thick veins to the design. Your hand is shaking when you put the ruler next to it. Three point five six inches wide.

That's a lot. Way too much. This will never fit inside you. Ever.

And still you are intrigued. Of course you are, you ordered that dildo for a reason, even if it came in the wrong size. (You could return it, you know that, but it's been a thrill to order it in the first place, so sending it back seems like too much of a hassle.) But just seeing it now, sitting heavy on your desk, with your small hand resting beside it, with its intricate and strangely realistic textures, it looks too intimidating.

You've read these werewolf stories where some fair maiden stumbles through the forest and ends up getting relentlessly knotted by the monster (or the more modern versions of some alpha male knotting his omega mate to help them through their heat, which always fascinated you a little more because it seemed not as fantastical). The idea to have something big inside you, filling you, stretching you out, and then something even bigger holding you in place, making it impossible to move, gives you chills, in the good way.

You may have been a little drunk and very horny when you ordered this fantasy dildo, but seeing it now, in the “flesh”, makes you very anxious. This was a stupid purchase. It won't be the same anyway. It's just the disembodied dick of a creature that doesn't exist in the first place. You'll be stuffed, sure, but you'll miss the warmth and the strength of whoever this would be attached to.

You sigh. Well, nothing you can do about it. You neither have a boyfriend to test this out with nor do you possess any magical abilities to make that fantasy come true, and as of right now, you don't see yourself using the damn thing anyway. It's too large (your other dildos look downright puny in comparison), and you are too small.

Despite it all, it is mesmerizing you. You chose a deep midnight blue as the color, that blends from a lighter blue at the tip into an almost black at the base, which makes it look slightly slimmer than it is. Slowly you move your hand up and close it around the curved shaft, well, you try, your fingers are too short to reach all the way around. You still slide your palm along the ridges and bumps, feeling the firm smooth silicone. It gives way in some places, you can bend it just a little bit, but when your hand reaches the knot, those bulbs feel almost a little too rigid.

You squeeze them, watching your knuckles blanching, knowing you will never have the same grip with your pussy. Warmth rushes into your cheeks at the thought. Biting your lip, you keep stroking the strange toy, getting a feel for it, trying to imagine how it would fit inside you. With how hefty the base is, you would have to put it on the ground and lower yourself onto it, which sounds like a workout you're not so sure you'd like.

But maybe the base comes off and you can use it like a regular dildo, snuggled into bed, hidden under your blanket? You lift the thing up and try to twist the base, but nothing happens. Hmm. At least it's sturdy. You find a little hole at the bottom, and you remember you ordered it with a... what did they call it, cumtube? Sounds weird, but it's just a long tube you can fill with cum-like lube that shoots out at some point? You're not too clear on the workings of that. But the idea to be filled by something warm and sticky makes your stomach tense up in anticipation.

Shifting on your chair, you inhale sharply and pull your hand away from the dark blue item. Well, this is not going to happen, not now. Maybe never. The idea is nice, but you don't see it being too pleasurable in reality. So you pack it up into its unassuming black satin bag along with the bottle of lube and the long tube it came with, and store it in the lowest drawer of your desk. Out of sight, out of mind.

Or so you hope.

When you go to bed that night, you see the large dildo in your mind's eye, and you recall these smutty stories, you imagine the grunts of the werewolf as he fucks the poor woman beneath him, rutting into her like the feral creature he is. And how she screams when he bottoms out, pressing all those inches into her, forcing his knot to stretch her entrance, how her pussy lips grip around it and pull it further inside. You have your hand between your legs as you try to imagine what it must feel like to be this full, to be bred and filled, with nowhere to go, stuck on those bulging bulbs.

A moan escapes you as your body shudders. You could try it. You have the hardware. It's right there. You just have to get up and get it... But you're too cozy in bed, under your warm blanket, with your fingers rubbing hard circles around your clit. You end up coming to the idea of it, and that's enough for you. Content with your heart racing, you exhale loudly, wiping your wet fingers on your thigh before you snuggle into the bedding and close your eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep.

Maybe not as dreamless as you've hoped. You wake up the next morning with a dry throat and sticky thighs, your mind swimming with images of cocks plunging into squelching holes, of being held down and ravaged, and you shudder at the memory. Blinking your eyes into focus, you sit up – and freeze.

There, on top of your desk, sits the large dark blue dildo, shining in the sunlight filtering through your window. No way. You've put it into the drawer, into its bag, far away, and even though you thought about using it last night, you didn't. And even if, you wouldn't put it back on the desk like that, right? But it's there, almost mocking you. Slowly you stand up and walk towards your desk, reaching out a hand to touch the smooth surface.

It's sticky, almost warm to the touch. What the hell? But you haven't used it, you're sure, you'd certainly remember it, wouldn't you? Shaking your head, you dismiss it for the moment and start your morning routine as if nothing happened.

Before you leave for the day, you grab the dildo and the toy cleaner you keep in your bedside table and give it a good scrub. Then you hide it away again, shutting the drawer with a firm thud. You are tempted to put a lock on it, but that's just silly.

Later that evening, you sit in bed and scroll through the stories on your phone, mindlessly skimming through your preferred genres. Somehow you end up on another knotting story. What are the odds. This one is set in the omegaverse, depicting an alpha bodyguard taking care of the omega girl in his care... by knotting her senseless. Just your kind of story. You end up with your fingers in your cunt, rubbing and poking desperately as you read.

You're close, your thighs twitching with every brush against your sensitive clit, stomach tense, feet curling into the sheets as you pump your hips. Your breaths are frantic, heart thundering inside your chest. Soundless, strangled gasps escape you (you're always mindful of your noises, these walls are thin and you don't want to alarm or entertain your neighbors) and you squirm and writhe, your phone falling out of your hand when you have to clutch at the edge of the bed.

“Fuck,” you croak out quietly while you roll onto your side and press your thighs together, trapping your hand, fingers stilling inside your clenching pussy as your body convulses under the mind-numbing throes of your orgasm.

You lie there for a moment, taking deep gulps of air into your burning lungs, slowly calming down again. Through the dark room you look towards your desk. And you can see it, your new toy, hidden away, waiting, and before you know it, you stumble off the bed and rip the drawer open and the large dildo out of its bag. You don't even care about the lube at this point.

With your back pressed into the bed, you rub the tapered tip between your wet folds, gathering your slick. You need both hands to guide the big thing back and forth, it's quite heavy. With your heart racing and your stomach fluttering, you angle your hips, feet pressed into the bed, and then you push. The head parts your lips and sinks into your entrance, and it's already a stretch that makes you inhale sharply.

But you keep going, your arms shaking under the exertion of forcing the toy deeper. You feel its protruding ridges and nubs rubbing against your soft walls as you start moving it in and out slowly. There's still so much of it in your hands, but the curve of the thing already presses between your tight muscles. You turn it slightly, figuring out which way feels best, and in doing so drill it even further.

You stop before your pussy lips brush against the bulbous knot, and you hold it tightly when you let the thing just rest inside you for a moment, feeling its girth and length and weight, its textures and shape. Clenching around the toy, you try to relax on the bed, grinding your hips slowly against your hands. It feels amazing, those ridges and nubs seem to hit all the right spots. Little moans slip from your parted lips, mouth hanging open as you squeeze your eyes shut.

The base is heavy between your fingers, and you feel them cramping slightly as you continue to move the large dildo in and out, considering using it like it's intended to be used: standing upright on the ground as you impale yourself on it. But it's a daunting thought, and your legs are already shaking badly. You doubt you have enough strength left to do squats on it now.

So you keep pumping half of it into your tight cunt, both hands closed around the hefty base, hips meeting your thrusts, the wet squelching sounds echoing through your room, adding to the growing arousal inside you. Your wrists hurt under the strain, but you're desperate now, hectic whines escaping you as you double your efforts, pushing and pulling, ramming that damn thing into you as fast as you can.

Arching your back and lifting your hips off the bed, you lean into the impending release, so close, a few more nudges, come on – when a sudden cold breeze over your sweaty face alerts you to something you cannot stop. It's as if an unseen force pushes the dildo with you, stronger than your own hands, an assist you didn't ask for.

But you're too far gone, gasping with your mouth wide open, head pressed into your pillow, thighs twitching, the tension ready to explode, and then it does, and at the same time as your orgasm crashes over you, a strange jerk goes through your body, and your usually voiceless cry becomes a real one, an almost scream as you feel your clenching cunt being stretched. Your hands fall away from the toy in an attempt to let it pop out and relish in the empty feeling as your contractions shake your body, but there's no empty feeling, because you're not empty.

You're stuffed. Somehow the knot has made it into your tight channel and your pussy lips grip the shaft beneath it, and as much as you push and clench, it doesn't budge. Cold panic rips you from your post-orgasmic bliss. Your hands claw at the base sticking out of you as you gyrate your hips, feeling every ridge and nub and bump pressing hard into your fluttering walls, but the toy is lodged within you. How did that happen?

Breathing harder, both from the exertion and the anxiety of having a sex toy stuck in your cunt, you wail quietly, rolling onto your side, lifting your leg, pulling on the damn thing. No chance. It's in there now. Knot and all, and the more you squirm, the more you feel the tapered tip pressing into depths nothing has ever pressed into before. It's a strange pain, sharp and piercing, a jolt of electricity with every movement of your body.

You lie on your back now, legs still angled, thighs twitching, trying to calm yourself down. You need to relax your muscles to get it out, you know that, but it's hard, as hard as the toy inside you. And somehow you feel it... expanding? No, that must be your imagination. It's not one of those inflatable things, you made sure of that. But the stretch is there, and it hurts.

Your hands are back between your legs, gripping the hefty base, but in your attempt to rip it out somehow, you suddenly feel it loosening and with another surprised/pained gasp, you realize you're holding the base of the toy – but without the toy.

“No!” you wail louder, staring at the dark piece of silicone between your fingers. It came right off, not as sturdy as initially suspected after all. You throw it aside and finger at the now-base of the fake shaft. It's barely sticking out now, your cunt eager to swallow it whole it seems. Whining in panic, you try to hook a finger between your tightly stretched skin and the dildo, but there's no way you can grip it like this.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as your anxiety grows. Chill. Calm down, it'll pop out on its own, they always do, don't worry, you try to soothe yourself. Not the first time you accidentally pushed a toy in too deep, but those were smooth ones, half as long and half as thick, with no ridges or knots, of course they'd slip out again. But this thing? It's a fucking knot, designed, by nature, to keep itself lodged inside any unsuspecting hole.

You think back to those stories you read about the topic. Those were fictional though, and every author handled it slightly differently. In some of them, the knot would just deflate when the man (or werewolf) was done dumping his potent load into his victim or mate, in others it stayed bulbous and inflated for a long time, locking the two people together, which, in a way, is a romantic thing and something you'd like to experience once in your life as well, but there's nobody attached to the dildo in your cunt, no one to hold you, to calm you, to rub your back and ease you through the pain of stretching and being filled.

The thought makes you sad, and in your frustration you buck your hips, only to gasp when the motion causes the toy to rub against these very sensitive spots that make your toes curl. You move your pelvis again, ripping a quiet moan from your throat, and then you fall into a slow rhythm of undulating into the bed, one hand back on your mound, feeling the tight fit of the toy before you start rubbing your swollen clit gently.

Before you know it, you work yourself to yet another orgasm, and the dildo seems to work with you. You even nudge its base a little, pushing it deeper, right against that sweet spot in the far back, and you groan at the sensation of pleasure/pain as you thrash your head into the pillow. Rolling onto your side, you keep grinding against the heavy thing inside you, panting under the exertion, your body curled up tightly, just like the coil in your tense stomach.

You're teetering on the edge, head empty except for that delicious cotton that makes you forget everything. It feels so good. The stretch, the pressure, the snug fit, those ridges and nubs and those seemingly pulsing bulbs pressing right against your g-spot. Mewls and wails fall from your trembling lips, and in your haze, you end up on your stomach where you lift your hips up and start humping your mattress feverishly.

The additional stimulation to your clit makes you cry out loudly, and you can only muffle your noises by pressing your face into the pillow. Your hard nipples rub against the fabric of your shirt with every gyrating motion with how you scrape your chest over the bed, and it doesn't take long before you stumble right over the edge, your muscles clenching hard around the toy, squeezing with all they have, as a million bright lights explode around you.

You're too far gone to think at that point, but if you would have been able to, you'd wonder why the toy doesn't come shooting out of your convulsing channel like most other toys would. It's not just the knot holding it in place, there's a strange force keeping your hips up and the dildo inside you. But you notice none of it, not the stiff position of your body as you tremble and quake, hands clawing at the sheets, knuckles white, fingers hurting, you just keep riding the waves of pleasure crashing over you.

You do, however, feel a familiar warmth gathering deep inside you, and you assume it's your own release waiting to gush past the item if it weren't for the knot plugging you up like a cork. Though it feels a little different, not something your body produced due to high stimulation, but something being added...

You groan deeply when your body makes a forward jerk as you feel the toy moving within you. Which shouldn't be possible. It's almost as if it's pulsing, throbbing, twitching, and with those motions something hot pushes into you, filling you up, seeping into every nook and cranny left by the large toy invading your already tight space. You shudder deeply, wondering in your fucked-out state what's going on, before you feel a strange stretch, a pressure building up inside you, and then, like an airlock being lifted, a strange squelching sound appears and you feel something hot and sticky trickling down your leg.

Remaining in your bent-over position, you move a hand between your legs and feel for whatever is leaking out of you. It's thick, thicker than your own juices, and much stickier. You bring it to your eyes, and whatever liquid it is, it pulls into thin strands as you part your fingers. Feels like cum. You blink at the sight and feel of it, and in your stupor, you roll onto your side, feeling more of it gathering between your legs.

When you're on your back again, you lift your hips, your sticky hand rubbing over your bare stomach, trying to ignore how tense and full it feels, down to your mound, teasing at the stretched opening. You feel the silicone against your fingertips, and it's no longer an intruder you want to get out immediately, it's become a strangely comforting feeling, despite the out of nowhere appearing cum-like substance. Maybe you filled it up before you used it? You can't remember, honestly. Does it matter? Not really.

You enjoy the feeling of fullness, the stretch and pressure, how with every slight movement the toy's ridges dig into your soft walls. The curve of it fits perfectly inside you, and the bulbous knot makes it sit so snug, as if it was made specifically for your cunt. You almost laugh at your initial apprehension and how you thought that huge thing would never fit into your tiny body, but look at you now, stuffed and happy.

With one hand on your mound, now eager to keep the toy in, as you rub your swollen labia gently, you roll onto your side and snuggle into your bed, your other hand pulling the sheets over your sweat-slick, sticky body. You don't care about washing up, you just want to sleep, softly riding out the blissful tremors of what this amazing toy has made you feel.

Closing your eyes, you imagine lying next to your alpha mate, or even a fluffy werewolf, as he holds you tightly pressed to his warm body, cock stuck inside your clenching cunt, knotting you to your (and his) heart's content.

But despite feeling exhausted, you can't stop grinding your hips against your hand, breathing harder when the warmth and tension builds up all over again as the dildo presses into all the right places. Soft moans slip from your dry lips, a shudder crashing through you at the feel of the tight knot stretching your sensitive skin. That last orgasm before you actually fall asleep is a mild one, a soothing thing washing over you, a warm embrace from something that isn't there.

You wake up with a sigh, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to start the new day. There is a strange soreness between your legs, as well as a very sticky sensation on your skin, but you don't care much for it – before you sit up and yelp when a sudden pain crashes through you. You stand up so fast your head is spinning, and as you press a hand to your mound, you can feel that the dildo is still lodged snugly inside you.

Yet you don't even have time to panic as the room grows dark all of a sudden. Then it all happens very fast. Somehow you are being turned and bent over the foot of the bed, chest pressed into the mattress by a force you can't explain. Your hands grip for the sheets as you struggle against whatever is holding you down. Are you still dreaming? You can't be sure. It feels too real.

And the pain when something pulls at the dildo in your cunt, when the knot stretches your pussy lips as it forces its way past them, is very, very real and makes you wail into the bedding. After the first stretch, the rest of the toy slips out easily, and with it comes a flood of something warm and sticky, spraying against your inner thighs, dripping down your legs, pooling around your bare feet on the floor. You gasp at the sudden emptiness.

All that wasted seed, you think as if someone has planted the thought into your head. Better put in a new load. Before you can properly wonder about where those words came from, you feel something nudging against your stretched entrance. You stand on shaking legs, ass in the air, torso pushed down into the bed, and you struggle, or try to, but you can't move. It's as if you're frozen in time and place, held down by an invisible force.

It's too dark to see anything, not that you could anyway with how your face is buried in the sheets. All you can do is take it, and even that you're not sure you can. It feels like something is standing behind you, something cold that lets goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin, and at the same time there's something very hot sinking into your fluttering cunt. You know it's the silicone toy warmed by your own body, but it feels different somehow. It feels... real.

You grunt with every sharp stab it gives you, parting your folds, plunging deep, but not as deep, teasing you with those ridges and nubs that scrape over your gummy walls, and the swell of that knot nudges against your entrance, never breaching it. Not yet anyway. The pace is brutal, a feral rutting, pistoning in and out fast and hard, and you can barely contain your noises anymore. They're muffled but still loud in your ears. Maybe because they're the only thing you hear, aside from the wet squelching of your cunt.

Whatever is pushing that dildo into you, whatever took over for you, doesn't make a sound, but you can feel it, you know it's there, holding you down and restrained. Whatever it is.

As sure as you are about the invisible force fucking you on your own bed, you are about the impending orgasm creeping closer with every hard thrust. The constant in and out of the rigid toy makes your head spin, your stomach tense, your thighs tremble. You're moaning and mewling, desperate for release as the warmth gathers in your core, ready to burst free. You even manage to press your hips back and meet the motions of the toy pounding into you.

And then you come, wailing loudly, barely restrained, lights exploding behind your eyelids as your body shudders and convulses, and you feel something wet splattering on the wooden floor, adding to the mess pooling around your feet. You've never squirted before, but you just know that's what happened, if you could analyze the moment, which you can't because your head is deliciously empty as you let bliss take over your thinking apparatus.

You barely register how the toy keeps plunging into your wet cunt, those squelching noises obscene if you would care about them, and as you still float on that amazing high, you feel its thrusts getting slower, slightly deeper, more deliberate, those bulging bulbs nudging firmer against your pussy lips, and suddenly the pressure grows stronger, making you gasp and your legs shake badly, and you fight it, stiffen, muscles tensing up, making it all the worse, but whatever controls the large dildo doesn't care as it pushes it further into your protesting cunt.

You let out a deep groan when it finally breaches the tight squeeze, stretching your sensitive skin, slipping into you, and that motion, the getting swallowed by your own body, turns your wails of distress into cries of pure pleasure as you come again around the invading object, your walls fluttering around the knot. You almost lose your footing, but the force that's penetrating you is still holding you up, no matter how badly your body spasms against the bed.

The dildo is back inside of you, all of it, from the tapered tip that teases at your cervix to the swollen protrusions to the bit of shaft after that. Your cunt clenches around all of it, holding it in place, hugging it to its contracting walls, letting it rub against all those special spots. And you keep shaking, so sensitive by now the slightest motion causes you to gasp and shudder. You'd be content like this, having it inside you, just resting, as heavy and large as it is, but whatever decided to take over, doesn't see it that way.

While you couldn't possibly push the thing deeper the last time it was wedged into you, you now feel it moving, nudging further, the hard tip pressing into your depths, stretching you in a way you've never been stretched before. It hurts, but it also feels good. And it's good that you think so, as you don't have a choice in the matter anyway.

The toy is pushed and pulled in slow fluid motions, and you feel the knot pressing hard against your entrance, stretching but never leaving your cunt. That doesn't stop the force behind you, though. The shallow thrusts continue until they turn into a desperate rutting, quick short stabs that make you howl as they bully both your deepest spot and the tight muscles of your hole. It's painful in the best way possible, and you feel your legs trembling, your stomach tensing, that warmth filling you up before it all explodes, catapulting you over the edge all over again.

You scream as you come, luckily muffled by how your face is still pressed into the bedding, but the sensation isn't any less extreme. Your orgasm crashes over you like the biggest tidal wave you've ever experienced, not that you have seen any of those before, but it sure feels like it hits you straight in the chest and drags you along, throwing you around, unrelenting, merciless, as you're being pushed and pulled and gasping for air.

Your walls clench hard around the still pistoning intruder, the curve, the ridges, the nubs, that fucking knot, all playing vital roles in keeping you afloat (or drowning), prolonging the gloriously mind-blowing experience. You feel dizzy, your heart thundering in your chest, lungs burning, body arching and spasming, as you are being hurdled from one orgasm to the next, or so it feels, and it never ends, not even when the toy suddenly stills, pushed as deep as possible, and then it throbs.

Even though you're barely able to feel anything anymore, you can feel its vibrations, the thrum from deep within it, and it shouldn't do that, it's not a vibrating toy, you tell yourself, it's also not an inflating one, but it still seems to swell, or the knot is, and it's pulsing against your tense muscles, stretching them, working inside you, and then... it unloads.

The warmth it fills you with is scorching, so filling you feel it bulging your stomach, which shouldn't be possible, and you may even taste it on your tongue as you gulp for air. It's all around you, but mostly inside you, and there it stays because the knot keeps it from spilling out. You are plugged shut, and it keeps pumping, giving you more, and it feels both oddly comforting and terrifyingly too much. You feel like bursting, so full, way too full, but all you can do is groan quietly.

With your mind still reeling, you are suddenly moved, lifted up by invisible hands (or paws?), cradled against something strangely warm as you're being put onto your side on the bed, your stomach fluttering and bulging, tensing badly under the onslaught of whatever liquid is pumped into your depths. The knotting dildo remains deep inside you, stuck and locked in, and you become drowsy, exhausted from whatever just happened. The darkness is still all around you, but you feel warm and content and taken good care of.

A smile grazes your dry lips as you imagine lying in the embrace of a mate, a lover, holding you after the strenuous ordeal of being knotted and bred, as their cock keeps pumping cum into you, as you remain tied together. And it feels so real...

Your eyes flutter close, and you inhale deeply, shifting slightly with your precious cargo inside you. As you drift into unconsciousness, the room grows brighter again, letting in the warm sunlight of a day already reaching its halfway point. Of course, you notice none of that, gone as you are.

When you stir awake, the darkness is back, this one real, lying like a heavy blanket all around you, while you lie on your side, shivering because you seemed to have kicked off your own blanket. Once you come to fully, you feel a little strange. Your mind is fuzzy, laden with images that couldn't have happened. Did you dream all that? Surely. It would be too weird if not.

But then why do you feel full when at the same time you are blatantly empty? Rolling onto your back, you grind your hips, assessing if you were indeed knotted and bred, but there's nothing. Your stomach rumbles, and when you touch it, it's normal, not bulged and tense but soft, and that's probably where the emptiness comes from. You're hungry, but that hunger also feels like an air pocket inside you, too big to ignore, giving you the feeling of being full? It's a strange sensation, to say the least.

And then there's another kind of emptiness. The one sitting invisibly in your aching little cunt disguised as nothingness. The toy is gone. You recall vividly how deep it's been in you, how stuck and immobile and heavy it sat between your clenching walls, but now they are fluttering around nothing. Where did it go?

You sit up, rubbing your naked arms, realizing you are indeed completely naked. Strange, didn't you go to bed with your sleep shirt? And why is it dark? It's been morning before, what happened to the rest of the day? You lean over to the lamp on your bedside table and the dark room is suddenly bathed in a warm yellow light, causing your eyes to wander straight towards your desk.

And there it is, sitting on its hefty base, the dark blue knotting dildo, in all its glory, with its curve, those ridges and nubs, and the formidable two bulbs making up the knot of the thing. You blink at the sight, confusion washing over you like a cold shiver. Slowly you stand up, groaning as you do, feeling your limbs shaking. Why are you so weak? Rubbing your stomach, you take a few steps before you almost slip on the floor.

Something wet coats the soles of your feet, and when you look down there's a big puddle of something shiny all over the wooden boards. Some of it is clear, but there's also a white shimmer to it, and you feel your heart accelerating as you remember how that came to be (even if the memory is faint, but seeing the evidence makes it all the more real and that frighteningly so). The feeling of being filled to the brim and leaking with the rest of it, the sensation of coming so hard you squirted all over the floor, while a strange force pounded your new toy into your willing body. Has it really happened? Apparently. But how is that possible?

Your heart beats faster as you keep walking until you reach the large dildo, standing proud and tall and girthy. You reach out with a shaking hand, carefully sliding your fingers over the textured shaft, tracing the thick veins on it. It feels warm and sticky, and it makes your blood run cold. It feels real, and it shouldn't. You know that. You're not crazy.

But there are too many things you just can't explain. How did it get back on the desk, back on the base you seemingly broke off last time? How was it possible that the toy fucked you on its own, in that bent-over position, and why weren't you able to move as it happened?

You feel chills all over your naked body. In that moment your rational mind just gives up. Normally you don't believe in ghosts or anything supernatural, but how else could you explain any of this? Is the toy haunted? Possessed?

It's a silicone thing, man-made, fabricated to cater to certain people's needs, a fantasy product, but it feels real, it pumped seemingly real cum into you (or so you think, it could still have been loaded with that artificial stuff without your knowledge and by squeezing it too hard you made it come out?), it fucked you as if attached to the real deal (whatever the real deal was).

Staring at the item, you lick your lips, eyes scanning every inch of its ridged surface. As creepy as this whole situation is, you still can't deny how good it felt also. How full and happy you were, how many times you came as it rammed into you, how those little nubs felt against your tense walls. They clench just remembering it. And somehow, from the darkest corner of your mind, comes the need to put it back in, feel it again, let the knot lock you up...

A shaky sigh escapes you, and you force yourself to look away from its tantalizing appeal. No. You can't. It'll all happen again, a mind-blowing fuckfest, and you'll waste another day in bed or wherever this thing wants to fuck you, or you it, it's still unclear how that happened, and maybe it was just your extremely horny mind who made up the idea of it being controlled by somebody else, maybe it has been you all along, driven crazy by sheer lust as you rammed that knot into your own cunt.

Shaking your head to clear it, you step away and into the bathroom. You spend a long time in there, inspecting and washing and handling your sore body, and when you emerge again, wrapped in a towel with your wet hair falling over your shoulders, the toy is still sitting on your desk. You watch it, but don't approach it. Instead you leave the room and venture into the kitchen to satiate the human need of eating, and after you sat at the counter and shoveled a bowl of cereal into your achingly empty stomach, you return to your bedroom.

The sight of that thing haunts you. You feel antsy just looking at it. In the end, you pick it up and put it down on the wooden desk chair, something you feel like doing, as if something put that thought into your head, a not too unfamiliar sensation. Then you pull the chair back, drop your towel and move to sit down on it. Again, you're barely thinking about it, it's like a need, an urge, a thing that feels right.

So you squat down on the toy, feeling the tapered tip pressing between your folds, and as soon as it breaches your entrance, pushing against your sore muscles, you gasp, hands curled around the edge of the desk to ground yourself as you let gravity do the rest. Or most of it. You feel the curve sinking into your tight depths, carving a way into your gummy walls, but when the knot presses against your pussy lips, you pause, breathing harder.

It feels too big, but you know it can fit inside you, it's happened before. Inhaling deeply, you try to relax, gyrating your hips to ease it into you, but your hole's too tight, unwilling to part further. You're in that weird half-squat, hovering over the chair, arms propped on the desk in front of you, and instead of giving up, you start moving up and down, fucking yourself slowly on the curved shaft, feeling those ridges and nubs and the tip poking at those delicious spots.

You're panting from the exertion, thighs burning under the strain, but you keep going even when sweat drops down your brows. You feel as if your muscles are opening up, and before your legs give in, you slam your hips down. A shrill shriek escapes you as you feel the knot stretching you open, your sensitive skin and muscles giving way, allowing it inside before they close back around it, swallowing it and the whole thing inside of you. You moan when you feel it filling you out.

Sinking a few inches further, you feel your rear pressing against the base of the toy before you sit down fully, ass cheeks on the chair, the entirety of the dildo wedged between your tight walls. A trembling exhale escapes you as you try to relax on it, your arms shaking before you bring your hands to your lap, your chest rising and falling faster, your stomach fluttering. For a few minutes you just sit there, trying to calm your frantic breaths and your rapid heartbeat, adjusting to the filling sensation.

And then, as if you haven't just impaled yourself on a knotting dildo, you reach a hand out, turn the lamp on your desk on and pull the laptop closer that you keep at the edge of it. You've missed an entire day it seems, so you're hellbent on making up for it. As your fingers fly over the keyboard, you occasionally grind your hips into the chair, relishing in the sudden jolts of pleasure/pain as the toy nudges your insides.

You sit there and work until you've edged yourself so badly, you can barely think anymore. Leaning back in your chair with your hands flat on your desk, you inhale sharply, tilting your head back as you undulate against the toy wedged between your thighs. You're so sensitive, every single motion causes you to shiver deeply. Even the hefty base of the toy rubs delightfully against your mound, adding pressure where you didn't know you needed it. A moan escapes you, and you move your hands to your rear and pull your cheeks apart until you can grind against it better.

It feels so good. To be stuffed, to be teased like this, to feel all those little details on that firm silicone shaft. You want to congratulate whoever came up with this design. It's perfect.

In an attempt to feel more of it, you lift yourself up slightly, really wanting to ride that thing now, but of course the knot prevents you from doing so, plugging you up tightly. You can still nudge the curved dildo a little deeper, so you end up humping your chair with small shallow snaps of your hips, your thighs trembling after only a few minutes, your panting breaths loud in the quiet room.

With a little whine you stand up properly, but instead of forcing the toy out from between your clenching walls, you lift up the entire thing, base and all, as it's firmly stuck inside of you. Its weight is heavy between your legs, but you still manage to stumble towards the bed with it where you throw yourself onto your back, spread your legs, lift your hips and start pushing your hands against the base, working yourself up even more.

Once your wrists cramp up under the strain, you focus on stimulating your clit, and the first touch has you already writhing on the bed. Gasping quietly, you buck your hips against your own fingers as you keep rubbing that sensitive bundle of nerves until your thighs spasm wildly. You feel the tension building, the warmth gathering inside you, and then you come with a soundless half-scream, mouth wide open, legs clamping shut around your hands as you ride out the waves of pleasure, the toy practically vibrating inside you with how your walls are fluttering around it.

Your limbs go limp then, hands falling away, legs falling open, as you try to catch your breath. Eyes closed, a stupid smile on your lips, you lie there like a stranded beetle, stomach convulsing, chest heaving. You don't notice how the darkness creeps back in, dimming out the warm light of the desk and bedside table lamp. You don't feel the cold wafting in the air around you, but you do feel the dildo moving, tiny movements, little nudges against your tight muscles until it pops out with an obscenely wet squelching sound, coaxing a deep sigh out of you.

You feel utterly relieved and satisfied and content, ready to fall asleep like that, with your legs wide open, presented on the bed like a strange little offering, and whatever lurks in the shadows around you, seems to take the bait.

It feels like your bed is moving, the mattress denting on either side of your hips, and then you're being lifted a little, and it's cold and warm at the same time as your legs are pushed up and against your chest, and as if you want this to happen, your hands move to grab your thighs, holding your legs like this. In this position you are wide open, a cool breeze on your swollen clit, your cunt clenching around nothing – but not for long.

The tapered tip pushes between your folds, eagerly sinking into your slightly stretched hole, scraping along your soft walls. The curved shaft follows, digging into you, its nubs and ridges rubbing against those sensitive spots that make you mewl softly. You are in a trance, held by lust even as exhaustion wants to pull you under. You don't question anything at this point, you just savor the sensations.

And you feel everything. The shaft moves then, in and out, shallow little stabs, carving its way deeper until you feel the bulbous knot pressing against your entrance. But it doesn't go in yet, it keeps slamming against your puffy lips, the wet squelching sounds a telltale sign of how aroused you still are. There's a strange weight to the thrusts, as if there would be more than just the toy being pushed into you, it feels as if it was attached to something much bigger, a presence you can't see (not even if you would open your eyes), but can sense in a way that feeds your longing.

The pounding continues, and that warmth builds up again, all around the thick shaft that moves between your tight walls with ease and power, in and out, fast and hard, and in an angle that makes you wail, bullying all the right spots until you can't hold it in you anymore. You come with a croaked cry as your body tenses up before it explodes into nothing but bliss, tiny lights dancing behind your eyelids, that soft warmth turning into a burning that devours all of you at once.

Through your orgasm the fake cock (or so you think) keeps pumping into you, those wet squelches are obscenely loud, and you moan and whine, hips bucking to meet the thrusts as your fingers dig into your own thighs, holding your legs squished against your breasts, your feet jumping above your head with every plunge.

And then it happens, your fluttering cunt gives way to the knot, but instead of plugging you up, it pops out, then plunges into you once more, and out again and in again, and you wail under the stretch and strange sensation of being stretched repeatedly. There's pain, but there's also blinding pleasure whenever it forces itself into you, and you keep coming from that motion alone, gasping and writhing, barely able to breathe or think or do anything but let it happen.

Now the whole length of the thing pushes into you, as deep as it'll go, bullying your cervix with its tapered tip, knot fully swallowed by your walls, then it's pulled back almost entirely before doing it all over again, driving you to the edge and over it and back and over in rapid succession. It's all a blur, but it feels so good, you could die on the spot just feeling it breaching your tight space over and over again.

Luckily, you don't die, you are just pushed from orgasm to orgasm, until every single nerve ending is buzzing and tingling, and you come to the point where you don't want to come any more. Not that the thing fucking you seems to mind that very much. It keeps going, in and out, your cunt giving off a lewd wet popping sound every time the knot is forced out and another wet slurping sound every time it's pushed in and swallowed by your walls. Along with your breathless whines and the squeaking of the bed, it's a cacophony of sounds driving you to the edge of sanity, and pleasure, and pain, and all of the above.

You feel yourself fading, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness, but just as you think you'll drift off now, the thing in your cunt plunges particularly deep, a final thrust full of power and strength, a heavy weight pressing you down as it prods painfully against your already battered cervix. You cry out, your body too confused, so it makes you convulse all over again as another orgasm crashes through you. The curved shaft stills inside you, ridges and nubs and its knot settling against your fluttering walls, and you feel as if it's throbbing and twitching, and the bulbs seem to grow, stretching you further, really plugging you up now.

A groan slips from your dry lips as it starts pumping something warm and filling into your cramped depths. Spurt after spurt, more and more, until you can feel your stomach bulging, tensing under the growing load, and your head is spinning as your body comes down from that strenuous but still utterly pleasurable experience. You feel a little drunk almost, dizzy and disorientated, wondering why you are still holding your legs up. But you stay like this, submitting to whatever leans over you, holding you down with their cock.

The last bit of your rational mind tells you you're just dreaming. Of course you are. And what a nice dream it is, hm? But then your eyes flutter open, and you blink at the darkness around you. It feels impenetrable, too dark. Even at night, you can usually make out the shape of your furniture, the outline of your windows, the streetlamps trying to push their light past your curtains. But you can see absolutely nothing. Did you even open your eyes?

You blink. Yeah, you did. There's something eerie in the way you're staring into the black void in front of you, it gives you chills, makes your body shudder, and as you jerk a little, you feel the weight and the pressure inside of you. The toy. It's still in there, buried deep, and it keeps throbbing, spewing liquid warmth into you. It feels so real. Your heart beats faster, your breaths quicken.

Then a strange hum fills the air, you freeze immediately, your eyes widening. It's a soothing sound as much as it is terrifying. It makes you stiffen, frozen in place, a deep chill running down your spine. And then there's this huff, like an exhale, and you can feel warm air wafting towards you, hitting your sweat-slick face. A tiny little croak escapes you as fear grips your limbs after all.

There is something, holding you down, impaling you on its cock, leaning over you, breathing right against your quivering lips. You can't see it, no matter how hard you try, but it's there. Huffing and puffing in a low, deep rumble, an unseen weight resting between your legs. Hot tears fall from under your lashes, running down your cheeks, but they never reach the pillow beneath your head.

It's a warm sensation, wet, almost a little slimy, and it feels like a tongue lapping at your skin, and the thought alone pushes you right to the edge of hysteria. Helpless whimpers escape you, but that disembodied, unseen tongue keeps licking up the tears continuously spilling from your eyes. Warm breaths dry your wet cheeks, those little huffs quieter now, calm and collected, and they slowly ease your own breathing as you stare ahead at nothing but blackness.

A little shriek is coaxed out of your throat when you feel the same tongue on your neck now, something soft nudging your calves until you let go of your legs and let them fall open against whatever has settled between them. They don't reach the soft bedding beneath but are held up now by something else, and you're too far gone to question it anymore. With your legs down, your torso is exposed to the shadows, your breasts trembling as your chest rises and falls quicker.

Those warm huffs of air hit your sensitive nipples before something warm circles them, and you can feel them being pulled and teased, making you shiver deeply, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure straight to your clit and fluttering cunt. The thick shaft inside you throbs as well, still leaking the occasional spurt of warm fluid. The knot is pulsing, tight and harder than before, or so it feels, those bulging veins on it rubbing deliciously against your stretched flesh.

You feel yourself drifting again under all these ministrations, lulled into your own darkness.

In your dreams, or whatever reality you find yourself in, you see a large shadow leaning over you. And you are calm about it, not afraid, but content. The appearance of the figure above you is hazy, like black smoke, fraying at its edges, no clear contour to make out. But what you can see (or think to see) are strong arms, a broad torso, muscles wherever you look. A display of strength and power and dominance, and in its shadow, you feel safe, protected.

You assume it's a large man, but you can't see his face. It's still too dark. But you can feel his breath on your skin, his lips trailing around your breasts, upwards to your collarbones, before you feel that warm tongue against your neck again. You tilt your head, giving him better access, and he hums deeply, showering you with little kisses and broad strokes of his tongue. Your pulse is fluttering against his mouth, and he senses your arousal, smells it. He seems to sniff you, hovering over you, warm and heavy.

“You are mine now,” you hear a low thrum in the air, assuming it's his voice. “My mate.”

You don't know what that means, but you're ready. You want it. And as if he can feel your approval, he leans in, his lips closing around your pulse, sucking softly, his teeth nibbling carefully, before you feel a different sensation. A pinch, a prick, a sudden cold stab when something sharp sinks into your skin.

You moan quietly as a strange warmth rushes through you (and out of you), the smell of metal wafting towards your nostrils, but you keep still, and without knowing what's happening, you let him bite you, mark you, and he grunts against you, holding your neck between his teeth as a shudder crashes through his big body that travels all the way to his cock buried deep inside of you. You feel it throbbing, the knot pulsing, and as your walls clench in response, you feel more warmth seeping into you as he fills you up again.

His hips grind against yours, soft little nudges, and you feel so good. An unusually gentle orgasm washes over you then, like a calming caress through your body that soothes you, eases your sore muscles, the slight pain in your neck, any other ailments you might have had. None of it matters anymore. You've found your mate. You're not alone anymore. You feel like coming home. Safe...

“What's your name?” you breathe out into the black void ready to consume you, not sure why you feel the need to ask this.

A huff of warm air moves over your face before a low hum vibrates in your ear. “Fenrir,” he growls quietly, and it's all you need to know as you inhale deeply, a soft smile grazing your lips.

Then, the darkness closes around you as if someone puts their hand over your eyes, whisking you away to sleep, or back to reality...

The next time you wake up, you are cuddled into your sheets, and the sunlight filters through your curtains. A new day, and you've never felt this refreshed before. Sitting up, you stretch with a soft squeak, rolling your neck, inhaling deeply. Your eyes move through the room, and the sight of the large dildo on your desk doesn't even confuse you anymore. It feels right to see it there. You stand up and walk past it on your way to the bathroom, your fingers sliding gently along its curved shaft.

In the midst of your morning routine, you hear the chime of your doorbell. Slipping into your fuzzy bathrobe, you hurry to the door, but when you reach it, whoever was there, is already gone. Though they left something behind. You bend down to pick up the small package, seeing your address on it and the usual postal stamps. Delivery? But you didn't expect anything.

You close the door and bring the unassuming box to your desk, putting it down next to the big toy on its base. Humming to yourself, mindlessly scratching at a spot on your neck, you open the package – and frown when you see its contents. Slowly you raise it out of its black satin bag. It's the dildo you ordered. The right size also. It's so small, barely as long as your hand, maybe the size of a soda can but much thinner, less than half the size of the toy that sits next to the opened box.

It's got the same design, the same ridges and nubs and the protruding bulbs of the knot, but it's so... tiny. You really ordered this? Apparently so, as you check the accompanying receipt and instructions. You can only half-remember that horny night when you browsed the site, and intimidated as you were, you chose the smallest size: Mini. You had no idea it would be this small. There's a picture of the different available sizes, and you realize the thing you actually fit into your cunt is the Large one. And just how large it is...

You shiver just thinking of having it inside you. But you also can't wait to put it back in. Your mind is hazy with memories of using it, of what really happened since you got it (and somehow you don't even wonder why you received two packages), and it's all a blur of ecstasy that makes you salivate and drip into the panties you put on.

Yet when you notice that the article has a name, you pause, blinking in confusion, your hand still scratching at what feels like a scabby wound on your neck. The name of the dildo feels familiar, like a distant memory, and it is –

As soon as you say it out loud, the big dark blue toy starts humming, its vibrations (even though you're not connected to it) sending shock waves through your whole body, activating all the right nerves. Your heart beats faster, your breaths turn into soft moans, and your cunt clenches hungrily around nothing.

“Fenrir.”

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[a-spes]

So.. guess who is back with more thoughts about Wanda's really nice hands, and long nails?

Me.

I am the one who can't think about anything else but those perfect hands 🙆

You have many bad habits. You would bite your nails — or your lips, depending on your current mood — and skip meals sometimes. The woman hates that, but there is one bad habit of yours that she doesn't want to fix because she finds it absolutely endearing, and it is the way you are always avoiding her gaze.

She had quickly noticed that you were unable to hold eye contact with her for more than a few seconds, crumbling under a simple glance. She loves to slowly drag her index all the way up your neck until it finds a place under your chin. She loves to apply a slight pressure here, forcing you to tilt your head back until you have no choice but look at her, directly in the eyes. She loves the embarrassment she can read on your face.

—

Sometimes, you forget to think, and words you regret eventually fall past your pretty lips. Words that you do not mean, but would still get you in trouble with the woman — “Shut it, before you say something I'll make you regret,” she reprimands, and you can feel her nails slowly digging into your cheeks.

She is right. You don't want to suffer the consequences of your own actions, you were just craving for some of her attention. She has been so busy with her job lately that you've been feeling left out. Eventually, her thumb would find its way in your mouth, and you would just accept it.

“Isn't it what you wanted, honey? My whole attention? No, don't get shy now that you have it, and use your words to tell mommy what you want,” she teases, and suddenly you find yourself unable to speak — god, there is nothing she likes more than seeing how fast she can make you shut the fuck up and how quick she can turn you into her perfect, and obedient, little girl. One that would do anything she asks without thinking twice about it.

—

She does it on purpose, and you know it. The woman keeps pretending that she left these marks by accident, but you can see in her smile that she meant every one of them.

She loves them.

She loves to see those red crescents that decorate your skin. They are the reminder of who you are belonging to. They are the memory of the nights you've shared, and her not so gentle touches. Most of those are left when you try to squirm out of her grasp, when she has to dig her nails into your hips in order to keep you still while she ruins her precious baby.

—

That is something she loves to do, grabbing you by the hips whenever she is given the chance to. It is not her fault that you are looking so adorable that it gives her the urge to have her hands on your body, and to slowly draw pattern on your skin.

Most of the time, the woman would just sneak up behind you when you are busy, and you would have no idea that she was coming before you could feel her nails slightly digging into your skin and her soft breath brushing your neck.

[bratkook]

deep six: dancing with death. (m) jjk

part one. part two. v-day drabble

pairing. biker!jk x reader genre. smut, fluff warnings. infidelity (but its ok i promise), protected s*x, oral, jungkook is kinda whiny and that itself deserves a warning, they're just fluffy and mushy and love each other they just dont know it yet word count. 12.2k summary. you've always known to stay away from the tombstone patches, told they were the enemy, that you'd be betraying your club if you chose not to listen. but an unsuspected friendship makes you think that maybe not everyone was as bad as you were made to believe. author’s note. hihiiii, this is a prequel to the deep six series! aka how jungkook and oc start their friendship and have it blossom into what it becomes in part one of deep six. i truly love these two so much, something about their forbidden love and how jungkook is tough and dangerous but oh so sweet to her makes me fucking melt!!! ok hope u enjoy it bye ily muah

The world is a constant blur, days merging, memories hazy and bleeding together in your mind. The only time you enjoy the blur is now, sitting on your bike as you flow through the streets. Exiting Cobra territory made you feel free, the streets widening up the further you got, allowing you to cruise without the fear of getting swiped by a careless driver. 

Your eyes fall shut briefly, taking a slow breath as you try to push the earlier feelings away. Minho was having a bad day, a deal he had hoped to make to start running ice falling through, the man in charge deciding to go with a neighboring club instead. It wasn’t your fault the man thought Minho was too hot headed and messy to not find a way to mess this deal up, wanting a club with more reach, more connections and reliability than the Cobras could offer. That didn’t stop Minho from treating you like it was your fault, doing what he did best before barking orders at you to go for a run, desperately needing alcohol to drown his emotions. 

The earlier fear still rattles you, leaves your fingers trembling slightly as they clutch the handles and accelerate. He couldn’t hurt you here, and that's all the comfort you need at the moment, finally pulling into the familiar parking lot of the bodega. There’s a few cars parked inside, a lone scooter tossed by the sidewalk, and a shiny black bike parked by the entrance. 

You eye it for a moment, always checking for visible tags that let you know if the bike belonged to a club that had the Cobra’s high on their hit list. It’d be easy to act dumb if it was, no identifying items on you, knowing better than to roam the streets without Minho with a serpent stamped on you. 

When you find nothing you decide it’s fine, knowing you were on a time crunch to get what he wanted. With another slow breath you step off your bike, already feeling your earlier nerves fade away as you enter your comfort space. It seems odd to consider it one, but something about the buzzing fluorescent lighting and peeling laminate made you feel like an individual. 

Music plays through a portable speaker by the cashier, the worker greeting you with a smile that you return before you turn down your favorite aisle. That’s when you spot him again. The Deep Six member in the same spot he was in the last time you saw him a few weeks ago. It had been a close encounter then, not realizing who he was with your boyfriend standing outside. But his arms are revealed to you now, markings on his skin making it clear what club he belonged to, leaving no room for confusion. If that somehow wasn’t enough the giant patches on his vest and the glimmering rings on his fingers spell it out, literally. 

You approach him slowly, not sure if you trust him but not fully on edge like you were before, knowing Minho’s watchful eyes weren’t observing your every move. Without the ticking bomb a few feet away you allow yourself to slightly relax in the presence of him, assuming he had no idea who you were, clearly too focused on his candy selection. 

Sure you were on a run for Minho but you always pick something up for yourself. A small smile is already on your lips as your eyes land on the sour straws, ready to pick your flavor of choice, only to find it completely empty. Instantly you know the culprit is the man next to you, remembering the way you had reached for the same candy last time you saw him here by chance, and as you turn to stare at him you see his palms cradling four packets of the sour straws, a teasing smile on his face as he meets your eyes. Greedy. 

“Sorry,” he breathes out, sounding anything but, trying desperately not to laugh and failing as he makes his way to the front to pay. You don’t even respond to him, admitting defeat as you settle on the green apple flavored ones before you return to your earlier task, finding a case of Minho’s favorite beer and paying for it. 

The heat welcomes you once more outside, loading up the beer and candy into the saddlebags on the side of your bike, already forgetting about the candy thief from inside. 

“Hey, Snake!” A voice cuts through the air, making you freeze as you search for it, finding the Six standing by the shiny black bike you had spotted earlier. He reaches into his pocket, still smiling as he pulls out the blue raspberry sour straw packet, tossing it your way with ease. 

You catch it with both palms, momentarily stunned at the small gesture and at the fact that he clearly knew you were associated with the Cobras. The rumble of his engine snaps you out of it, smiling slightly as you look up at him once more, a breathless thank you escaping your lips before he is smiling back and peeling out of the parking lot. 

When you live the life you do, constantly on edge with a paranoid boyfriend questioning everyone’s intentions, it's hard not to let his way of thinking affect your own. Even as you sit back at the clubhouse, holding onto that packet of candy, you can’t help but wonder if maybe the Six’s seemingly sweet gesture was a trap. Maybe he was testing to see how gullible you are, stupid enough to interact with him, to use you to send a message to the Cobras. It wouldn’t be the first time. Minho’s reign made you an easy target, knowing you had a lot of enemies that would love to make a lesson of you. 

It's been so long since anyone has shown you genuine kindness with no strings attached, and as you finally enjoy your treat, you can’t stop the warm feeling of hope in your chest that maybe not everyone was as bad as you were made to believe. 

You don’t return to your comfort space again until two weeks later, on another run for the club. Minho seemed to think if he gave you pointless errands to run you’d be satisfied, content with the loveless relationship and mundane everyday life. It was his way of keeping you on a leash, making you follow orders and letting the lead slacken up, only tightening it back up to remind you he was all you had. But you’d take the small moments of peace wherever you could get them. 

The lot is empty today as you pull in, the only car belonging to the worker inside. The moment of solitude only lasts for a minute, a loud rumble cutting through the air as another bike pulls in beside you. You tense up immediately, whipping your head to assess the situation, spotting the familiar Six too lost in his thoughts to realize you were here. He furrows his brows as he takes off his helmet, adjusting the large rings on his fingers before he glances your way, jumping slightly when he notices it's you. 

You eye him curiously, hands coming up to the key in the ignition, ready to start it up and tail out of here if he made a move. Minho had made a claim of some other club trying to ambush a deal earlier today, an unlucky hangout being the only one hurt, but without an identifying patch it left him on edge more than normal. So far the Six didn’t make you feel like you had to be wary, but you couldn’t be so sure. 

He seems to sense it, his arms raising up in surrender as he stays on his bike. “It’s okay snake, I don’t bite.” He smiles at his own stupid remark, but it slowly falls off his face when he sees the stoic expression remains on yours. “Seriously though, I’m just here for some smokes and a treat. I can go somewhere else if it really makes you this uncomfortable though.”

“Why aren’t you somewhere else to begin with?” you bite back, still not trusting that he wasn’t trying to trap you. 

Jungkook just sighs, hand coming up to ruffle up his helmet hair. “It’s nice to get away sometimes. This is neutral grounds, you know as best as I do that anything club related done here is a death wish.” He lets you process his statement, seeing the way you continue to eye him, your gaze tracing along the patches he wears. The large tombstone taunts you, torn and a little rugged on the edges, showing just how long he’s been wearing it. “Why aren’t you somewhere on your side of town?”

You purse your lips, looking away from him as you pull your hand away from your key, getting off your bike, deciding this conversation was better to have inside your little safe space. “Like you said, it’s nice to get away sometimes.” You hook your helmet over your handle, reaching the bodega’s door and holding it open as you look back at him. “You coming?”

He seems to snap out of it, quickly hopping off his bike and jogging your way, saying a quick greeting to the worker before going down the familiar aisle. He smiles when he sees you next to those damn sour straws. 

“Those must be your favorite huh?”

You give him a quick glance, seeing the smile on his lips before you turn back and grab a packet of the candy. “They are, so try not to take all of them at once again.”

He lets out a soft laugh, reaching forward and grabbing a couple of the same. “I gave you one last time, which says a lot because I don’t really like sharing.”

“A Six that doesn’t like sharing? That’s not surprising.” Your words are light, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you turn around and continue roaming the aisle. 

“Not as surprising as a Snake trying to tell me what to do.” The crinkling of plastic fills the store as he rips open his packet, taking a bite of a sour straw as he tries to hide his own smile when you give him an eye roll. 

“I’m not technically a Snake,” you mutter out, finger tracing along the chocolate bar you were contemplating grabbing. It wasn’t a lie, you didn’t wear the patch, you weren’t granted the perks of being a part of the club, nothing you said held any weight on the decisions they made. You weren’t a Cobra, you just belonged to one of them. Though that didn’t seem like the wisest thing to tell him, you knew the history between Deep Six and the Cobras, and telling him you belonged to Minho of all people would put you high up on his list of people to hurt if he had bad intentions to begin with. 

“Oh? You just like to hang on to the back of one then?”

“Something like that,” you sigh, deciding not to grab the extra treat, turning to look at him fully once more. “Are you gonna keep calling me a snake?”

His tongue prods along his cheek as he looks down at you, eyebrow slowly cocking up. “What would you rather I call you?”

“Y/N.”

He nods slowly, letting your name settle into his mind before he was reaching his hand out, the golden glimmering rings spelling out SIX shining in the light. You eye his hand for a minute before grabbing it in a gentle handshake, seeing the way he smiles before saying his own name. 

“Jungkook.”

Jungkook was proud of his club, wore his patch with pride, did everything he could to show his loyalty. So why was he starting to tell white lies to his brothers, making up excuses to justify why he was going to the bodega on neutral grounds directly after finishing a job. He knew what would happen if they knew who he was talking to, slowly befriending. His only rational excuse was the fact that you had said you weren’t technically a Cobra, and although he’s not sure how well that would hold up to the rest of his members, it was the only excuse that helped ease his guilt. 

He was currently sat on the small sidewalk outside of the bodega, elbows leaning on his knees as he glanced around the empty lot. You had been meeting here once every week or so. He had started to take note of the typical times you’d be sent on runs of your own, choosing to coincidentally run into you at the same time. You had yet to arrive today though, leaving him waiting for fifteen minutes, wondering if maybe you wouldn’t be showing up today. 

Just before he decides to head out, you pull into the lot on your Dyna, a smile on your face when you spot him sitting on the sidewalk like a child. 

“You’re late,” he calls out, grabbing a packet of candy and tossing it your way when you get off your bike and head towards him. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t aware we had a time set for our little play dates.” You open up the candy, taking a bite and shutting your eyes at the sour taste. Jungkook laughs at your expression, patting the sidewalk beside him for you to settle into. 

“I can’t be left unsupervised, you should know this by now.”

You laugh now, taking a look at the bodega and the surrounding area. “Nothing seems to be destroyed, I think you do just fine unsupervised.”

He leans back on his palm, raking back his dark hair as he stares into the sky in thought. “I tend to cause psychological damage, not too big on destroying property.”

“Got it. So you torture people?”

Jungkook chuckles, turning to look at you slightly, a small twinkle of mischief flashing in his eyes as he smiles. “Exactly.”

You can only laugh, not exactly sure how truthful he was being with his little joke. The both of you made an effort to not discuss the intricacies of your clubs, not entirely sure what it was that you both did for them, knowing things would get too messy and tangled up if you did. Instead you talk about yourselves, knowing small anecdotes of each other’s childhoods, recounting stories of when he took a few tumbles on his bike when he was just starting to learn to ride, ones of you before the life of the Cobras was all you knew. 

It was a brief moment of normalcy, being able to talk to someone else, laughing over dumb jokes while sharing candy. It made you forget how twisted all of it was until you returned back home. 

Jungkook just appreciated having a new friend, someone to talk to about things that didn’t have to do with his club. He just wished he could talk to you in moments that lasted longer than the brief bodega hang outs. So as you both finish up, loading up your bike with the items you were told to come pick up, he takes a leap of faith. 

“Hey, can I—uh. Can I have your number?” He looks uncharacteristically shy as he asks this, one hand rubbing along the back of his neck. “To arrange our play dates,” he adds jokingly, a small smile on his lips in hopes of softening the blow of potential rejection as he reaches for his phone and hands it over. 

You freeze instantly, staring at his device as the voice in your head tells you not to, screams that this would get you in trouble. But the hopeful look on his face is enough to shut it up, grabbing his phone with a nod. “Sure, but uhm, I can’t text often.”

His brows furrow slightly at the tone you use, watching the way you type in your number and text yourself. Something about it made it seem like you were nervous, and the only thing he can assume is that the people you were around would grow curious over who you were texting. 

“Why? Scared your Snake friends would be pissed that a Six is texting you?” His tone is playful, but as you hand him his phone back, the look on your face makes his smile slowly fade away. 

“My boyfriend, specifically.”

Jungkook feels his heart drop at the revelation. He knew you were most likely involved with a Cobra, having seen you the first time you met on the back of one’s bike—more specifically, Minho’s bike. He had just assumed you were Minho’s chosen girl for the day, but if you were mentioning a boyfriend now, Jungkook could easily piece together who exactly that is. 

The third cardinal rule of his club replays in the back of his mind, “Never get involved with a Cobra”. It makes his head hurt, desperately trying to find a deeper excuse, a loophole to allow this to continue. It shouldn’t mean anything, you two were just friendly, barely even toeing that line as it was. But just knowing you were spoken for, by the leader of the Cobras especially, made the guilt he already felt for speaking to you get worse. 

But he does his best to shake it off, drowning out his thoughts as he takes his phone back and shrugs. 

“We’re just two people who share a love for sour straws, but if it makes you feel better you text me whenever you want.”

You don’t text him for a while, the fear of your tiny little secret being exposed keeps you from responding to the text you had sent yourself from his phone. There was also the small feeling of guilt festering in your stomach, feeling like you had lied to him by keeping your relationship a secret. All he had assumed from the get go was that you liked to hang around Cobras, but you noticed the way his face had changed when you mentioned a boyfriend, and you can only imagine how he’d react if you told him your boyfriend was the leader of the Cobras. 

You find yourself staring at your device any chance you get, hidden in the bathroom of your place, lounging on the couch in the clubhouse, until you finally get the courage to send the first text. It makes your heart race, saving his number under your best friend's name, changing the emoji at the end so you know the difference, going as far as putting his messages on do not disturb. Clearly hiding, keeping him a secret. 

Jungkook knows it's wrong, because he’s keeping it a secret too. But once that first text was sent, they never stopped. He responds when he has time in between club duties, knowing you’ll reply when you get a moment alone. Your messages are short, random conversations that never crossed any lines, but he meant what he said, taking full advantage of having your number to coordinate your play dates. 

The guilt you feel slowly fades away with each passing day, becoming comfortable in your ways as you let him know what days you’ll be on that side of town, and before you know it, your hang outs become your favorite thing. You slowly start to consider Jungkook your friend, another rare slice of peace in your messy life. It makes you feel like your younger self, excited to speak to a cute boy and laugh until your cheeks hurt. 

And it should make you feel icky to have these thoughts about someone who wasn’t your boyfriend, but your relationship with Minho had been romantically dead for years now, not able to remember the last time he did something for you that didn’t solely benefit him. So you choose to enjoy the small flutters in your stomach that occur around Jungkook, allowing yourself to sit closer to him each time, friendly touches beginning to get more courageous while still toeing the line. 

Jungkook doesn’t mind it, he thought you were pretty and would let you trace the patches on his jacket or analyze his tattoos up close if that's what you wanted. You were the one with a boyfriend, who was he to tell you what was right or wrong for you to do, he wasn’t one to judge or pull a morality card on you considering the things he does in his club. It was all mostly innocent anyways, even now as you stand a good few feet away from each other, respective candy in each other's hands, attempting to toss them into your mouths. 

It was innocent. 

“God, your aim is horrible!” you laugh out, feeling the candy hit your forehead and bounce right off. 

“What are you talking about? That was a clear headshot.” He has that charming smirk on his face as he says it, tongue flicking against his lip ring while he laughs too. 

“You’re not trying to kill me Jungkook, we’re trying to see who wins first.” You swat the remnants of sugar off your face as you reach into your own bag for a piece of candy, motioning for him to be ready. He gets into position, slightly bending his knees and angling his head back with his mouth open, ready to catch whatever you throw. With a small snicker you grab four small pieces of candy, aiming right for his face with one eye shut and sending them flying. Jungkook is totally unsuspecting until suddenly, he’s being pelted all over his face, his eyes squeezing shut at the shock. 

“Dude,” he laughs, eyes finally opening up to spot you cackling away, perfectly content at your little stunt. 

“Okay, okay sorry. For real this time. I got it, I can feel it in my bones.” Jungkook should tell you no, say you wasted your turn and deliver payback, but you look too happy right now for him to do anything but smile and nod as he gets back into position once more. He sees the way you bring your hand close to your face, shutting one eye to try to aim, tongue slightly poking out in concentration before you toss the candy across a few feet of distance. 

Jungkook doesn’t even register that the candy successfully landed in his mouth until you’re gasping in shock. That’s when his eyes widen, his mouth shutting as he begins to chew, standing up straight and feeling his heart start to warm at how proud you look at having beat him. He closes the distance between you, extending a hand out for a high five that you gladly give him. 

Now that you’re closer, you see all the sprinkles of sugar on his face. It dusts along his cheekbones and the top of his nose, looking like small freckles on his skin. You give him an endearing smile as you cup his face and swipe it away from his skin. You do it without thinking really, tips of your fingers gently flicking away the evidence of your tiny prank. 

Jungkook’s chest tightens at the soft gesture, eyes wide as he watches you, too scared to move, almost like it would startle you or make you come to your senses and remember he was a Six. He chooses to just focus on how soft your hand feels against his cheek, how sweet you sound when you say he looks like a mess, your eyes filled with what he hopes is the same adoration he has as you look up at him, a lot closer than you need to be.

Jungkook knows all the sugar is gone now but you’re still there, thumb rubbing along his cheek, tracing the scar under his eye while your gaze lands on the piercing on his lip. He holds his breath when you look up at him once more, and maybe it's his wishful thinking but he swears the way you look at him tells him to make a move, so he does. Slowly at first, wanting to give you a chance to deny his advances, but you meet his lips before he can close the distance himself.

The innocence is gone now. Jungkook had felt something brewing with each of your interactions, chalking it off to pure friendliness, but he knows a small spark had been lit the second you started speaking to each other. 

The kiss burns, the guilt and betrayal to his club clawing at his mind but he doesn't care, welcoming it as he deepens it, sliding his hand into your hair and focusing on the way you let out a soft breath as he does so. It makes your mind spin, your hands gently looping around his neck to bring him closer. You don’t have time to think, too enveloped in the way his piercing feels against your lips, how his fingers softly rake through your hair, how he takes a deep breath when you kiss him back harder. 

It's brief, a small moment of weakness led by temptation, but you can’t deny how you both feel exhilarated, wide eyes and smiles on your faces when you pull back. "You taste like candy," you giggle.

“Your favorite,” he mumbles, still close enough to nudge the tip of his nose along yours. His voice is low as he lets reality settle, slowly inching back, his eyes meeting yours and seeing the small clouds of panic start to form around you. Reality seems to be hitting you too, fear of what would happen to him if Minho ever found out, or what would happen to you if he even had an inkling. A small harmless crush had just passed over into dangerous territory. 

“Hey,” Jungkook starts softly, hand gently coming to rest on your shoulder to bring you back to the present. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“No, but it does,” you groan. It did mean something, it didn’t matter how small it seemed, but you know the kiss meant something. Your small panic had nothing to do with being unfaithful, you knew Minho cheated on you with any girls who were willing to show their loyalty to the club, and if it kept him off of you then you didn’t mind it. You were scared to put Jungkook in danger. “It means something and my boyfriend’s crazy, he’ll kill both of us if he finds out.”

“I know he is.” He shrugs, looking directly at you, seeing the shocked look on your face at his admission. 

“You know what?” you whisper. 

“I know he’s a psycho. I kind of put two and two together when you mentioned a boyfriend. It is Minho right?” When you nod slowly, still unsure how to respond he just continues speaking. “But look, I know. All of it. I know I’m not supposed to be speaking to you, let alone kissing you and enjoying it, but it happened. I know it’s wrong, that I should feel bad and I don’t, but I also know where my loyalties lie within the club and what rules I’m willing to bend. If you’re saying it means something, then it does.”

You can only stare at him, feeling the clouds of panic start to fade. “But I'm telling you, I know what's at risk and I won’t be using it to harm you.”

“I mean…it is both our asses on the line,” you mumble out, still feeling his hand on your shoulder. He smiles at your words now, making you slowly smile back. 

“So, we’re taking it to our graves?” His voice is light again, the playful tone you were used to back. When you nod he smiles wider. “Cool, should we kiss on it?”

Jungkook laughs when you shove his shoulder with a cackle, rolling your eyes as you step back, walking back into the bodega to get what you came for. “You’re so unserious. Get away from me.”

The issue with this imaginary line being crossed is that it leaves you thinking “what’s next”, constantly wondering just what else you could get away with. One kiss shared turns into two which turns into five, given so casually it feels like second nature. It seems like both of your guards have dropped now, more at ease with each other, touches getting as bold as they could in public. 

“Are you sure my skin isn’t gonna burn off?” you joke, laughing when Jungkook gives you an eye roll. His jacket is in his hands, shaking it off before he’s swinging it around your frame, helping you slide your arms into it. He had jokingly said it would swallow you whole, and you honestly just wanted an excuse to be closer to him so when he suggested you try it on you couldn’t deny him. 

“You might burst into flames, so just drop and roll baby.” He snickers when you playfully glare at him. Jungkook looks down at you with a smile, his hands smoothing the collar before he’s taking a step back to admire how the large leather jacket looked on you. The patches cover the arms and back, his first initial, last name and rank displayed over the left breast pocket, something your finger comes up to trace absentmindedly.  

“I don’t know, the jacket suits you. You sure you don’t wanna become a Six?”

“Very funny Jungkook. They’ll be putting a Cobra on my tombstone when I’m dead.” 

He waves you off, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Let me live in my fantasy world, yeah?”

“Your fantasy world involves me being a Six?” you giggle, looking up at him with a sly smile.

“Don’t kink shame me. Now smile for the picture,” he sings out, bending down as he extends his arm out, ready to take a selfie. You had yet to take photos of you both, too scared to be caught by Minho, but you allowed Jungkook to document your newly formed friendship as much as he wanted, knowing he had less to worry about when it came to snooping. 

Your arms wrap around him, the tombstone patch on display as you both smile widely for the picture. He looks at it with a cheeky grin, mumbling out how cute he thought it was before putting his phone away. 

“Do you need the usual for your run today?” he asks, knowing Minho always had you stocking up his alcohol. 

“Not today. I’m technically supposed to be locked inside our place. A few Cobra’s headed out of state this morning for a meeting.”

Jungkook hums, having briefly heard of an arms deal happening out of state, he just hadn’t been aware it was the Cobra’s doing. “Why didn’t you go with?”

“Too risky.” You lean back against the textured wall of the building, still cozy in his jacket. Minho loved to have you right by his side at all times, so if he said it was safer for you to stay here then you wouldn’t question him. “He has to make sure his prized possession stays safe.”

Jungkook laughs, slinging an arm around you and bringing you to his side obnoxiously. “Well you tell him I have that covered.”

“Jungkook, he’d cut your tongue out. Stop it!” you cackle. 

“I’d like to see him fucking try,” he grunts out, enjoying the way you playfully swat at him. He’d like to think he could have Minho’s head served on a silver platter if he ever got close enough to put his hands on him. 

“What about you? Any fun club plans after our playdate?”

Jungkook sighs, a smile still on his face. “Nope. I’m officially clocked out.” Your laugh is felt against his side, only making his smile widen. “I just have to stop by the clubhouse to grab something before heading home.”

“How far is the clubhouse from here?” You’re looking up at him with a twinkle in your eye, your smile still as sweet as can be, but he senses some undertone that he hopes he isn’t imagining. 

“Not far, about 20 minutes. Why? You want a tour?”

That was all he had to ask before you were following his bike down the busy streets on his side of town. His jacket is still on you, providing you with a small sense of security, knowing if anyone spotted you they’d assume you were with him. It leaves you at ease, entering the secure lot of his clubhouse, coming to a stop beside him and glancing around as you take off your helmet. 

It’s empty, a few cars parked around that looked like they were in need of repair, but no other bikes or lingering people. Jungkook steps off his bike, motioning for you to follow him, excited at showing you his favorite place. 

As you follow his lead you instantly see how different Deep Six’s clubhouse is compared to the Cobras. The space is taken care of, decorated thoughtfully, a space made for business as well as hanging out with their friends and families. Touches of the club are nestled around, a large Harley on display on a far wall, a frame showing the timeline and evolution of their patch tucked between other photos, and the most obvious and slightly obnoxious ode to the club comes in the gallery wall displaying all of their mugshots. Cute. 

“It’s nothing fancy,” he mumbles, spreading his arms out as he stands in the middle of the main room. A brown tufted leather couch is right behind him, a giant pool table behind it and a fully loaded bar to the right. 

“Compared to ours it sure is.” The Cobra’s clubhouse was made for business only, the meeting room was kept in pristine condition while the rest of it was only made to be nice enough to house drunken members and whatever hangouts were in the process of joining. 

“Really?” When you nod he just frowns, approaching you to grab your hand and pull you along, trying to show you more. “I’ll show you my space.”

“Your space?” you wonder, smiling when he squeezes your palm lightly, leading you down a hall to the right. A few doors line both walls, different ranks tacked on the middle of them, coming to a stop in front of one that says Road Captain. You had never really paid attention to his rank on his jacket, never really caring to read anyone’s rank in general, but seeing it displayed on this door let you know just how deep his involvement in his club was. 

“Only ranked members get private rooms.” He sounds almost bashful as he says this, grinning before opening up the door and switching on the light. A desk is on the right, paperwork neatly stacked in piles, a dresser is along the other wall with pictures tacked onto a cork board right above it. His bed is in the middle, sheets a dark gray and neatly made. It’s nestled between two windows on either side, letting in the slowly setting sunlight. 

You step into the room, walking to the dresser to look at the photos he has tacked up. He looks younger in some of these, hair messier and longer, no piercing or tattoos yet as he leans on his bike, another member attempting to put him in a headlock. They’re all club photos for the most part, the only one standing out is a photo of a teenage looking Jungkook holding up a diploma with what you can only assume is his parents beside him. 

“Cute,” you mumble out, smiling as you turn back to face him. It was odd to feel this calm around him, so used to the faint ticking heard in your head, reminding you that you were running on borrowed time, forced to interact in small bursts. With Minho completely occupied, the ticking disappears, allowing you to fully enjoy the moment for what it was. 

“I didn’t expect you to be sentimental like this,” you tease, smiling at the way his eyes narrow at you as he approaches, his tongue poking at his cheek as he fights a smile. 

“I’m full of surprises,” he murmurs, standing a foot away from you now, peering down at you with an aura of playfulness surrounding him. Your hands reach out to gently play with the material of his shirt, tugging him even closer. Jungkook could feel the tension, the same slowly growing tension that had been brewing with each day spent together. He can only watch as your hands slowly trail up his stomach, gliding up to gingerly rest against his chest. 

He wanted to kiss you, wanted to feel you gasp against his lips, but the last thing he wanted to do was make you feel like he had suggested showing you his clubhouse to be a total sleaze. Jungkook knew the line had grown blurry, kisses and touches shared with ease, but he wasn’t bold enough to assume you’d be okay with taking anything further. So when you decide to make the first move, leaning up to ghost your lips over his own, he can only hold his breath, eyes fluttering shut when you softly press them together. 

Your hands rest on his shoulders now, holding yourself steady as you kiss him, feeling the way his body melts into it. You pull away with a soft smack of your lips, inching back slightly. “What other surprises do you have?” 

Jungkook holds in a groan when you start to pepper kisses on the corner of his mouth, trailing them down his jaw, gently nipping the skin of his throat right below his ear. You giggle when he shudders, his hands gripping your waist, fingers tightening around you. 

“If you let me, I can show you.” His voice holds a tinge of unsureness, wanting for you to be okay with this without sounding pushy. But Jungkook had been thinking of this since your first kiss so he couldn’t help the desperate tone laced between each syllable. 

“Show me. Show me whatever you want,” you whisper, hand coming up to cup his cheek, looking up at him through your lashes. When his eyes meet yours he finally lets his resolve crack, attaching your lips once more in a heated kiss, finally feeling you gasp against him. 

Jungkook is a little ashamed to admit how easily this was affecting him, his heart already racing in his chest, stomach fluttering with each shared moan, bulge growing in his jeans when your hand slips into his hair and pulls. His hands slide down the material of his jacket you have on, pulling it off your body and tossing it aside without a care. He feels you smile against his lips at the action, clearly enjoying the way his hands roam along your body, desperate to touch you in ways he wasn’t able to before. 

It’s an eager dance to his bed, blindly stepping back as he guides you to it until your knees buckle against the mattress, giggling as you flop onto it. Your arm rests back to hold you steady, other hand gripping onto his shirt to yank him back over you, reattaching your lips in a heated kiss. 

Jungkook laughs into the kiss, his arm wrapping around you to haul you further up the bed properly, slowly pushing you back until you’re flat against the bed. His body settles over you, the cute visual of his hair framing his face is the first thing you see when your eyes flutter open as he pulls back. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, his hand coming up to gently cradle your jaw, thumb rubbing along your bottom lip as he smirks before dipping back down. 

He kisses the corner of your mouth, following the same trail you had left on him earlier, smiling against your skin when you shudder as he nips your neck. Slowly, his hands slide down your body, fingers toying with the hem of your shirt and tugging it up to reveal your stomach. 

“Can I take this off?” he mumbles, eyes peering up at you for confirmation. When you breathe out a yes, he slides it further up, helping you slip out of your shirt fully before you’re settling on your back again. A thin bralette covers your boobs, lacey cups revealing a glimmer on your nipples that has him tilting his head in curiosity. 

You catch what he’s looking at, smile spreading on your lips as you reach up to touch his jaw, finger gently tapping along the small mole he has below his lips. “I’m full of surprises too,” you mumble, smiling wider when he boldly cups your chest, thumb swiping at your pierced nipple through the lace. 

“I can see that,” he mumurs, voice low and raspy, making your stomach flip. He looks at you once more, brow cocking up in question as his fingers toy with the fabric. You nod your head, knowing what he wanted, allowing him to slip the straps off your shoulders before he’s sliding a palm under your back to properly unclasp your bra, giving himself the perfect view. 

Its hard to ignore the small burst of confidence that surges through you when he groans, eyes hooded while he leans down to pepper kisses down your chest. It had been such a long time since you’ve felt truly desired, since you’ve been kissed delicately, had hands touch your skin so gently it tickles and leaves you breathing out a laugh. So you relish in it. You shut your eyes and enjoy the way Jungkook presses wet kisses to your skin, you let yourself gasp in pleasure when he wraps his lips around your pierced nipple and sucks. 

Your hands instinctively slip through his hair, fingers yanking his thick strands as he hums against your skin, tongue flicking along the piercing. Jungkook feels the way you jut your chest further out, back arching at the sensation. A deep groan escapes you as his palm comes up to cup your other breast, the cool feeling of his rings sending a shiver down your spine. 

He smiles as he pulls back, cocky with eyes twinkling with mischief as his fingers playfully dance down your body. 

His eyes are locked with yours as his fingers reach the waistband of your jeans, teasingly dipping past it as he lifts a brow in question. He needed clear boundaries, not wanting to cross any lines. You find it cute, how despite the fact that you’re laying here, chest heaving with anticipation, eyes surely wild with desire, he’s still wanting to make sure. 

“Can I?” He repeats his earlier question, features soft as he waits for your answer. 

“We need to even out the playing field first Six,” you tease, smiling when he chuckles and points to his shirt. You nod, staring up at him from the bed as he kneels up, staring right at you as he reaches behind his neck and yanks the shirt off of his body. 

Your blood warms up further at the sight of him, seeing his muscles flex under his tattoos as he straightens back up. Jungkook tilts his head slightly, biting on his lip ring as he fights back the smile at your clear admiration. The black marks his skin, some tattoos looking darker than others, showing you just which ones were recent additions. 

The owl on his chest looks the brightest, edges still crisp, shading looking rich in the skulls beneath each wing. They seem to move as Jungkook takes a breath, snapping you out of it as you look back into his eyes. 

“Is this even enough for you?” he jokes, smiling wide when you nod in confirmation, your eyes following his movements as his hand returns to your jeans. You watch with bated breath as he unbuttons the top, slowly pulling down the zipper before his hands hook into the waistband and starts to tug. Your hips lift from the bed to help, allowing him to pull them off, tossing them to the side along with your shoes and socks. 

You can feel your stomach flipping with nerves, the worry of doing something new with someone new, the small clouds of insecurity rolling in, wondering if you looked good in this angle, if maybe Jungkook preferred you to look a certain way or wear cute underwear with bows on the front instead of the black regular cotton ones you currently have on. 

It all settles down as he drops lowers, eyes looking up at you as he presses kisses onto your hips and slowly tugs your underwear down, clearly not paying any mind to them. A trail of goosebumps blossom down your thighs, following your underwear as he pulls them off too. He stands up once more, eyes swimming with want as he sees you. 

“Let me get a good look at you,” he murmurs when he notices the way your arms begin to want to cover yourself up at being fully exposed. He thinks it's cute how shy you seem now, eyes bouncing away from his as he takes his time drinking you in. With your eyes diverted, he thinks it's a great time to dive in, his hands coming down to grip your palms while his face nudges its way into the crook of your neck to kiss your skin, smiling at the way you gasp and laugh at the ticklish feeling

“Jungkook!” you giggle, feeling his hands pin your own down on the bed, his mouth traveling down your body as he guides your hands into his hair, letting you know he wants you to keep playing with the strands. Your finger twirls his hair around, feeling him smile against your skin as he descends once more. 

“Everything about you is so pretty,” he mumbles into your stomach, eyes peering up at you while his hands return to your hips, slowly sliding down to your thighs to grip the flesh. Wet kisses smack into your skin, leaving a trail on each hip and down your thigh until he’s suddenly biting. He laughs when you gasp, your fingers tugging his hair on instinct when you look down with a shocked expression. 

“Looked so good you had to take a bite?” you joke, smiling down at him, feeling the fluttering in your stomach when he winks. 

“Oh I need more than just a bite,” he groans, fingers tightening their hold on your thighs before he presses a kiss directly onto your mound, slowly sticking his tongue out to gently flick along your slit. 

Jungkook loves the way your breath gets shaky as you exhale, a soft moan of his name reaching his ears when he gently parts your folds and teasingly flicks against your clit. A part of him knows this might be the one and only time he’ll ever get to experience you like this, the only time he’ll see you flush on his bed, gasping for more as your hips roll into him. So he wants to store every moment in his brain, keep it locked away until the next time he misses you. 

“Fuck Jungkook, that feels good,” you moan, fingers locked in his hair, keeping him close as he ravishes you. The praise makes his ego grow, lips wrapping around your clit and sucking with the perfect amount of pressure. It makes your stomach tense, short little zaps of electricity flowing through your body with each flick of his tongue. 

“Good, I just wanna make you feel good.” He leans back a bit, admiring the look of your sodden folds for a moment before he's letting a glob of spit drip from his mouth directly onto your clit. He bites his lip as his fingers spread it around, coating his digits as he circles your entrance. His eyes meet yours again, brow raised in question, smiling when you nod in response. Slowly, he pushes forward, eyes focused on your reaction, seeing the way you bite down on your lip as his finger sinks in. 

Jungkook tries not to let his mind get carried away when he feels your walls fluttering around his digit, already imagining how you would feel around him, feeling his cock aching in his jeans as he sinks a second finger in to properly stretch you out. With each thrust of his fingers his mind wanders further, the need to see you falling apart leading his mouth back onto you, the combining sensation making you moan louder. 

The stretch of his fingers has your head spinning, eyes falling shut as you mewl on his sheets, fingers raking through his hair. “More Jungkook, please,” you whimper, not able to get enough of him. 

The desperation lacing your voice makes Jungkook’s heart flutter, ready to comply with anything you want. He moans against your folds, a third finger adding to the delicious stretch. The wet clicks of his fingers thrusting into your drenched pussy fill the room, and it's the greed living inside of Jungkook that makes him want to thrust into you faster, make it so that all you can hear is the sound of your pleasure. 

Your breath hitches in your throat when he curves his fingers upwards, tickling the sweet spot that makes your eyes roll. That’s when you feel the familiar cool sensation of his rings once more. You were used to feeling them on your arms when he playfully pulled you around, used to the feeling of them on your cheeks when he gripped your face before kissing you, but feeling them against your cunt each time he thrust his fingers forward, it made your body burn up with lust. There was something about having the name of a club you were told to stay far away from pressed against you salaciously that only made the waves of pleasure you feel crash over you even harder. 

“Mm, close Jungkook,” you whine, your free hand sliding up your body to tug and pinch at your nipples. Jungkook peers up at you from between his thighs and the visual of you playing with yourself while he ate you out has him making a mess in his underwear. He doesn’t even care how easy it is for you to make him this needy, knowing you were enjoying yourself because of him was all that mattered. 

“Wanna feel you baby,” he mutters out, lips shiny with your arousal, fingers scissoring inside of you, feeling the way your walls tighten around him. Your hands grip his hair tighter, making him hiss, a breathy laugh hitting your messy folds when you guide his mouth back onto you. 

Jungkook knows you’re right on the edge, the craving for your release making you arch your back, moans of his name slurring together with pleas for more more. All it takes is a few more flicks of his tongue for your climax to crest, the prettiest moan he’s ever heard reaching his ears as you gush around his fingers. 

“There you go, good girl,” he groans, pulling back as he licks his lips, staring at your trembling body with eyes swimming with lust. His thumb replaces his mouth, rubbing your swollen clit, enjoying the way you writhe at the slight overstimulation. 

“Ah, ‘Guk,” you whimper. And the new nickname has him smiling, loving the way it sounds coming from you so much he almost doesn’t want to stop. It takes your small hands coming down to grip his wrist for him to finally pull away, your soft giggles of enjoyment coming to a halt when he slips his fingers into his mouth. 

“Told you I needed more than just a bite,” he teases, making an absolute show of licking his fingers. “What about you, are you satisfied?”

You lift yourself up with one arm, the other reaching forward to grip his belt loop, tugging him closer as you look up at him through your lashes. “Mm, no I don’t think I am.” His abs tense when your finger trails along his skin, toying with the button on his jeans, slowly popping them open and pulling down the zipper. 

“Then I need to fix that,” he mumbles, tongue flicking his lip ring as he stares down at you, watching the way you reach down to palm at his bulge. Your face lights up at his words, a smile spreading on your face as he helps you tug down his jeans, obviously eager. Jungkook’s smirk only deepens when your eyes widen once you finally release his cock, a small gasp escaping you at the size of him. 

Pearly beads of precum collect at his tip, swollen and aching for your touch, so when you finally grasp his length and swipe your thumb along the bulbous tip he lets out a deep groan that has your core clenching. 

“Fuck, babe.” He grunts when your palm starts to slide up and down, his eyes focused on the way you slowly inch forward, your tongue peeking out to gently lick his tip. Jungkook knows he’s in trouble, already feeling his body react to your touch. All you had done was give him a few teasing touches and his mind was already spinning. Its an inner battle as he watches you take more of him into your mouth, his jaw dropping at the warm feeling, hands clenching by his side when you moan at the taste of him. 

“Y/N,” he groans, “you’re gonna make me cum too fast.” You pop off of him with a wet smack, a saccharine smile on your lips as you giggle. 

“And that’s a bad thing?” Your head tilts as you question him, hand still lazily pumping his length. 

“It is when I want to fuck you first.” That makes your hand finally stop, brows raising in interest. Your free hand slides up his body, carefully cupping his face, guiding him down to kiss you. 

“Then fuck me, Jungkook. I’m yours,” you murmur against his lips, feeling him groan against you as he kisses you harder. You know what you mean. You’re his for the night, despite how strong your connection with him is, the reality was that as long as Minho had his claws sunk into you, there would never be a chance for you and Jungkook to delve deeper into this relationship. But this tiny bubble you were both in was enough for you. 

The energy is different than what you’re used to, the both of you smiling through the kisses, soft words whispered against skin as you help him take off his jeans. Jungkook’s laugh is infectious when you gasp at the sight of his thighs, the double headed wolf tattoo catching your attention immediately, praising it under your breath before he’s kissing you once more, telling you he’ll let you properly see it later as his hands grope your sides. 

“How do you want me?” you mumble, gently nipping his lip. 

“If it was my way I’d have you in every position I could think of. You tell me, baby.” If Jungkook let his selfish desires take over, he’d tell you he wanted you to ride him, let you bounce on top of him and use him while he got to watch your pretty face. But he can’t be that selfish, even if the small pestering voice in his head tells him that this might be his only chance to. Still, his eyes are soft as he pulls back, ringed hand caressing your face with a tenderness that makes your heart clench

“Can I ride you?” Your voice is timid, just above a whisper, but it makes Jungkook shut his eyes and groan. You see, he wasn’t corny, didn’t believe in fate or anything like that, but for a brief moment Jungkook's convinced this was meant to be. 

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning forward to rest his forhead against yours. “Yes, please.”

The way he begs makes your pussy ache, hips instinctively rolling up into his, enjoying the way he hisses, rutting his cock against your inner thigh. The beads of precum leak off his tip, leaving a small puddle by your hip, smeared around as he repeats the action. 

“O-okay,” you gasp, biting down on your lip as you peek at the visual, trying not to get lost in the way he teases himself. “Let me ‘Guk, wanna feel you.”

He nods, tendrils of hair tickling your face as he kisses you again before leaning back. You try not to stare but it's so hard when he looks like that, length hard and bobbing as he rummages through the drawer by his bed, a sheepish smile on his lips when he plucks out a shiny square packet. 

Your heart races in your chest as you sit up, coming onto your knees and crawling to the head of the bed, gently patting the space next to you. Jungkook’s quick to settle beside you, back leaning against the small headboard, large hands reaching to grab your hips and hoist you over his thighs. A small laugh escapes you at being manhandled, the toned muscles of his thighs felt underneath you, his cock poking at your belly from your proximity. 

Your eyes are glued to it, watching in awe as he pulls out the condom and carefully rolls it on, a small sigh meeting your ears. 

“Can’t wait to feel you,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his jaw, your hand meeting his around his cock as you lift your hips just enough. His free hand finds your hip again as you guide his tip to your entrance, teasingly circling it, slipping the tip inside for a second before popping it back out, the two of you gasping at the feeling. 

“Mm, sit on it,” he groans, brows pinched together as he nudges his nose into your neck. Wet kisses mark your skin, his hand getting tighter on your hip when you repeat the action again before finally sinking further down. Your walls clench around him, the stretch making you whine. You had seen his size, knowing just how big he was, but now that he’s inside of you and you feel it, you pace yourself. 

It's unintentionally torturous, the warm tightness slowly enveloping more of him and all he could do was clench his jaw and grip you harder. Jungkook is patient, fighting every urge he has to thrust up or sit you down fully. Instead he murmurs praises into your skin, tells you how good you feel, how good you’re doing, that you’re almost there until you’re butt rests flush against his thighs. 

A shuddering breath hits his shoulder, your face coming up to stare at him properly now. He’s staring at you with hooded eyes, mouth slightly opened as he gasps when your walls flutter. 

“So big,” you mumble, kissing him gently, lips ghosting over his, hips slowly lifting an inch before coming back down. 

“I know, baby. Take your time.” He groans, kissing you harder, teeth clicking together in his haste, breathing into each other. Jungkook felt like he was dreaming, some sick fantasy teasing him while he slept, giving him a taste of you before reality would settle in and snatch it all away. But you don’t usually feel this way in his dreams, don’t dig your nails into his shoulder as you quicken your pace, your wetness dripping down his cock and pooling at the base. And Jungkook is glad that he prefers reality over his dreams for once. 

“Oh god ‘Guk,” you moan, skin slapping together with each rise and fall of your hips. His lips are coated in a sheen of spit, swollen from your kisses and gentle bites, but he gives you a smile, clearly enjoying your reaction to him. 

“Does it feel good baby?” he murmurs, voice deep and raspy at the edges, his hand sliding up your thighs, pressing into your tummy with a tilt to his head. “Feel nice and full?”

You shudder at his question, feeling the pressure of his palm, and you swear you can feel the tip of his cock nudging into it. “Y-yes, so good, so full. Just wanna fuck you forever.”

He hums, feeling your words deep inside of him. It makes him melt into the headboard, hand traveling further up until he has a handful of your tits in them. Jungkook plays with them a bit, finger pinching and twisting the hard buds, tugging gently at the silver bar, hearing you moan at the sensation. 

“You can fuck me whenever you want,” he grunts at a particular drop of your hips, the wetness aiding in your pace. 

“Really?”

“Mhm,” he groans, thumb rolling along your nipple, softly rutting up into you. “Just text me whenever you want it. Pretty face, delicious pussy, I’ll always be here for you.”

“You’re such a romantic,” you giggle, throwing your head back as you get lost in the motion. Jungkook laughs with you, arm scooping around your back to pull you closer, his mouth kissing up and down your neck, teeth grazing the surface with the urge to suck but he knows better. 

“Just for you,” he breathes into your skin, feeling you laugh again. 

It feels like nothing else matters, not the potential consequences to this, no worry about what this meant for your special friendship. All that matters is that Jungkook is grabbing you like he can’t get enough of you, kissing you like his life depends on it, not shy at all at vocalizing how good it all feels. 

“Wanna cum,” you gasp, cupping his face, seeing the way he focuses on your lips as you speak. 

“Yeah? Tell me what you need.” He bends his knees slightly, pressure on his heels as he fucks up into you. The jiggle of your tits makes his mouth water, caught in a daze. 

“Need you to touch me.” It's the softest plea, tone dripping and needy, making Jungkook nod immediately. He bites his lip as he trails a hand up your chest, over your neck until he’s cupping your jaw, his thumb rubbing along your lower lip. With a gentle tap, you’re opening up, eyes locked together as you wrap your lips around the digit and suck, giving him a teasing bite as he tries to pull it out. 

He smiles at you, bringing down his soaked thumb in between your bodies until it reaches home directly onto your clit. The sudden touch makes you gasp, bundle of nerves swollen and sensitive, and its almost too much. But he’s gentle, easing you into the feeling, only applying more pressure when you finally relax, falling back into the delicious rhythm you have going. 

Jungkook can feel the coil tightening inside of him with each pulse of your pussy, walls clamping around him on each lift, making an absolute mess as the arousal drips onto his balls. 

“More?” He quickens his finger, circling your clit faster, paying close attention to your reaction. 

“Oh, fuck. No, like that. Just like that.” So he does, jaw dropped open as he watches you get lost in it all, bouncing on top of him as fast as you wanted, using him just like he wanted. Your thighs burn but it feels too good to think about stopping, the beginning signs of your orgasm licking at your skin, encouraging you to fuck him faster. You can hear how messy you’re leaving him, the squelch of your pussy blending in with the moans and thumping of the headboard. 

“Close, fuck—ah,” you stutter and gasp, brows pinched together tightly, only able to stare at him as you start to fall apart. He looks at you in awe, breathing in time with you, matching each gasp and moan, thumb slipping around in your slick. It's the accidental flick of his that has you tumbling over the edge, nearly shrieking out his name as your high comes barreling at you. 

Jungkook curses under his breath as you tremble above him. Your hand curls into his hair, yanking him forward into a messy kiss as you moan unabashedly, his thumb continuing to flick along your puffy clit for another minute to work you through it before he’s clutching onto your hips and controlling your speed. You’re still twitching at the aftershocks, small sparks kissing your skin and leaving you in a comfortable haze as you tangle your tongue with his, pulling back with a smile so sweet. 

“I wanna see you cum Jungkook,” you kiss him again, teasing him as you pull away and watch him chase you for more. “Made me feel so good, want you to cum for me.”

Jungkook groans, nodding as he wraps his arm around you, pushing off the headboard until the air is whooshing around you and your back is meeting the sheets once more. He cages you in easily, arms under your back, cradling your head as he buries his face into your neck and surges his hips into you. 

Your breath leaves you at the change in position, legs wrapping around his hips, shuddering as his pelvis nudges your sensitive clit. He doesn’t care how desperate he looks, fucking you like he was starved of affection, the need to cum taking over all of his senses. 

“Fuck, you’re so hot.” Your nails dig into his back, scratching along his skin, making him groan into your ear. His thrusts grow more sporadic, shallow, losing their grace as your purposefully clench around him. 

“Oh shit, you’re gonna make me cum.” He whines, voice breathy against your neck, and you swear you’ll cum again. 

“Yeah? Cum for me, c’mon,” you whisper, grazing his back and tightening your walls again. He nods against you before he’s leaning back, giving you the view you so sweetly asked for. His thick brows are furrowed on his forehead, eyes heady with lust, and a deep groan of your name spilling past his lips as he cums. Your feet urge him closer as his hips stutter, rutting into you to milk his orgasm as he fills up the condom. 

The room falls quiet for a moment, the both of you catching your breath, hearts slowing down as the high settles over your bones. And then he’s laughing, flopping back over you and tightening his hold on your body. 

“Why are you laughing?” You giggle too, hands running through his hair as you smile in a love sick daze. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard,” he admits sheepishly, kissing your warm skin, leaning back with a childish smile as he kisses your nose and ever so slowly starts to pull out of you. The sound is filthy, core sensitive and messy, and when he fully pulls out you can’t help but close your legs. 

He simply laughs, hand softly rubbing at your calves before he’s getting up and disposing of the condom. 

You’re still in that same foggy haze from earlier, even as Jungkook returns with a damp cloth to clean you up, all you can do is hum in thanks as you melt into his sheets. It doesn’t take long for him to settle in beside you again, holding you close, hand tickling the skin of the thigh you have hooked over his hip. 

“You have such pretty legs.” It’s a soft compliment, almost like it wasn’t meant to escape him. But when you look at him with a sincere smile he continues. “If you were mine I’d beg you to wear skirts all the time just so I could stare at them, touch them—“ he grips your thighs playfully, smiling at your laugh, “I’d be able to flick it up so easily and fuck you in it.”

Your laugh is louder now, your hand playfully swatting at his chest at how quick he was to get raunchy. 

If you were mine. 

That phrase repeats in your mind, sounding like a sweet song that you’d never get tired of hearing. 

“I’ll wear one at the meet next week,” you promise, running your hand over his chest. You knew you’d be seeing him there, able to freely ogle at him with all the neighboring clubs gathered together in an attempt to keep the peace. You might not be able to interact like you usually do, but just seeing him was enough. 

Just as he’s about to reply, the sound of a familiar engine cuts the air. You freeze instantly, wide eyes staring at Jungkook, seeing the confused look on his face. He lifts a hand up, motioning for you to stay as he sits up straighter, ears perking up when he hears the front door of the clubhouse open up. 

“Stay here. They won’t come in here but I know they saw my bike so I’ll get rid of them.” You can only nod as he hurries into his clothes, buttoning his jeans in a haste and deciding to forgo his shirt and shoes as he all but runs out of the room, shutting the door behind him. 

The haze you felt earlier is long gone, anxiety settling into your bones once more, realizing just what sort of situation you were in. Jungkook seemed to think the golden rule of staying away from Cobras was fine with you, but who knows just what kind of loyalty the Six member in the other room holds. 

All you needed was one man hell bent on loyalty to come barging in, and you don’t even want to think of what would become of you. Your heart rattles in your chest as you sit up too, eyes glancing around the room to find your pile of clothes. 

You can hear them mumbling in the main room, Jungkook’s laughter sounding out as he jokes around with his fellow brother. You can only imagine what he’s telling him, maybe explaining why theres a second bike parked next to his, or giving his reason for being shirtless and disheveled at the clubhouse this late in the day. Whatever is going on, you know you shouldn’t wait around to see how it plays out. Being with Jungkook makes reality pause, fade away and leave you to believe that things were meant to be this easy. 

But that's not your reality. 

You knew you wanted this to happen, could still feel the butterflies in your stomach as you remember the way he kissed your skin. But you couldn’t let the line be crossed this far again. You’re not sure karma would be too kind to you the next time. 

As quiet as you can, you slip out of bed, carefully putting your clothes back on and looking at the desk in the corner. Before you overthink it, you grab the pen and notepad he has resting on top of paperwork, scribbling out a quick note before you’re returning to his bedside, yanking up the curtains and wiggling the window open to slip out. 

Back in the main room, Jungkook is sitting on the bar stool, Hoseok resting against the counter as they both joke around. Jungkook is thankful that Hoseok doesn’t seem to ask too many questions, knowing very well that he must have some girl in the room, but he wasn’t nosey enough to want to know who. 

“So you’re not gonna introduce your friend?” he jokes, giving Jungkook a coy smile, enjoying the way his younger friend blushes and shoves his shoulder. 

“No you weirdo, you fucking scared her by showing up like this. Why the hell are you here anyway?”

Hoseok cackles, pushing away from the counter and walking towards the meeting room. “Sorry, I didn't mean to be a cockblock. I forgot to grab some paperwork.” The way he says it makes it seem like it was work documents, contracts that needed to be signed instead of files detailing the amount of guns they’d be receiving in the next drop. He disappears into the room, returning a few moments later with the folder in his hand. “I’ll be out of your hair now.”

And he does just that, waving goodbye and stepping back outside. But as he approaches his bike he realizes the bike he had seen next to Jungkook’s was missing now. 

Jungkook is none the wiser as he walks back to his room, a smile on his face that falls when he doesn’t see you on the bed. The sheets are a mess, your clothes are missing, his curtains are drawn up and his window remains cracked open. He steps closer now, a white sheet of paper catching his attention on his desk. 

Thanks for the tour, I think your room might be my favorite<3 Remember, we take this to our graves. We’ll kiss on it over sour straws soon x

Ps. I’ll see you at the meet, I’ll be the one in the short skirt. 

Maybe it's the sick hopefulness he feels in his chest, but Jungkook can’t help but smile as he thinks this won’t be the last time afterall.

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I , Part II , Part III , Part IV , Part V

Summary: Fleeing the wreckage of your heartbreak, you land in the chaos of Zaun, pouring drinks at a dingy bar. You're still facing unresolved feelings and emotions towards Ellie, but they’re easier to bury when Vi storms into your life—a whirlwind of sharp words and reckless energy. You start off bad, really bad but it's enough for you to think of something else for a bit.

warnings/themes : angst, heartbreak, lots of trauma, kind of enemies to lovers, unresolved feelings, a bit of violence, eventual smut, au

word count : 3.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at it again, falling just where you started , completely alone , full of sorrow and regrets. Moving away to a completely unknown place was the best escape plan - literally. You knew nothing about this city, save for a few stories your best friend had told you. Yet, even the thought of staying in the same place as her couldn’t outweigh your choice - you'd rather wander off Zaun's shadowed streets, losing yourself for a lifetime than remain bound to the familiar.

City was close to what you have imagined. The fractures that happened few years ago helped to a great extent , after decades of suffering, the city had finally exhaled, though it had not lost its soul. Cleansed of its grime, its fumes, and its shadowed figures, the streets and the people remained exactly as your friend had described them—a perfect echo of her tales.

Finding a job wasn't hard , from now on you'd serve drinks in one of the city’s dim, suspiciously isolated bars—barely more than a shadow in the corner of a forgotten street. Pay wasn't good but it was enough for an apartment and food, nothing else mattered to you. You were trying your best to take as many shifts as you could, working whole night helped you not think about her , during daytime you would typically crash out , exhausted from your job. And yet, she always found a way to reappear.

At the bar, you distracted yourself by watching customers. Most of them came for a drink and a chance to ease their burdens, but for you, the real game was observing them—piecing together their stories from a glance, a gesture, a half-heard conversation. Sometimes , thought of her would reappear . Something would remind you of her scent, her voice, slipping into your mind without warning. But you had mastered the art of distraction, shifting your focus before the memories could take root.

It was in your dreams where she would visit most frequently, escape from her was almost impossible, as though she determined to remind you of what you wanted to forget: that no change of address, no new life, could erase her. She was etched into you, inescapably, a part of you as much as your own breath. But you had to move on , that's what you were best at, carrying pain and suffering throughout your life, god knows you've been doing that since the day you were born.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Can we talk?” she asked, her tone calm but firm, as she stepped closer to you.

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. “Ellie,” you whispered, bracing yourself for the inevitable fallout. “I shouldn’t have said what I said.” The words spilled out in a shaky breath.

Her green eyes searched yours, unreadable but sharp. “Why is that?” she asked, her voice softer now, almost careful.

“You already know why,” you said, your gaze flickering over her face—her furrowed brow, the tightness in her jaw. Anxiety clawed at your chest, every emotion colliding at once: fear, anger, love, and a desire that burned despite everything. Losing her wasn’t an option, not like this.

“That’s the problem,” she said, stepping even closer, her boots scraping softly against the floor. “I don’t know why. You told me how you felt and then ran off, didn’t even wait for my answer.” Her voice broke slightly, frustration seeping through, though she was clearly trying to hold it together—for your sake. “That’s not fair.”

“I couldn’t take it anym—” you began, but your trembling words cut short as Ellie moved.

Her forehead rested against yours, her breath warm and steady against your skin. “I need you,” she whispered, her voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine. “More than you could ever need me.”

“Nothing’s going to change that,” she said, her voice unwavering now, as if it was the most certain truth in the world.

* * * * * * * * *

Once again, your own screams tore you from sleep, Ellie had found her way into your dreams.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, the echo of her voice lingered in your ears. You glanced at the clock hanging crookedly on the wall and exhaled in relief—it was almost time for another shift.

You moved through your routine on autopilot: a quick shower, clothes and out the door. The walk to the bar felt like a blur, your thoughts still tangled with fragments of the dream you couldn’t shake.

“Hey there,” you greeted Revek, arguably only person who could be considered as your friend in Zaun , as you stepped behind the counter.

He glanced at you with that signature smirk of his, tossing his apron onto the counter. “Well, well, look who decided to show up. Twenty minutes late, no less.” Leaning against the bar, he crossed his arms and tilted his head. “Alright, what is it this time? Lost your keys? Got cornered by some hooligans? Or let me guess—lost track of time again?” His smirk widened as he tapped the counter, signaling for his usual drink.

“Cut me some slack, you asshole,” you shot back, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like they’re paying me enough to show up on time.” You reached for the shaker, pouring his drink without missing a beat. “I just… had a bad dream, alright?”

The smirk faded slightly as he took the cup from your hand, his gaze softening. “Not again,” he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. He took a long sip before adding, “You know, if you ever want to talk about it… I’m here.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said quickly, brushing him off with a weak smile. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. Now scooch—you’re scaring off my customers.”

Revek gave you a knowing look, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he pushed himself off the barstool, raising the cup in a mock toast. “Fine, fine. Just don’t forget—I’ve got a hell of a good ear for this kind of thing.”

You watched him walk away, trying to shove down the unease crawling up your spine. Fixing your hair in the reflection of a glass, you turned to face the empty bar. The night was long, but at least behind the counter, you could pretend your mind wasn’t a battlefield.

The day had been dragging. The bar was dead slow, with only a few regulars stopping by for a drink and a bit of small talk. You made an effort to keep busy—wiping down the already spotless counter, rearranging bottles, polishing glasses—anything to make the hours pass. Not until she walked in. The air shifted instantly, the tension almost suffocating as the door swung shut behind her. You froze, your hand mid-reach for a glass, and looked up. You’d seen countless faces walk through those doors. From the desperate to the careless, from the downtrodden to the troublemakers, the bar had welcomed them all. Nobody ever stood out—nobody cared about anyone else here. That’s what you liked about this place. People came in, had their drinks, exchanged a few words, maybe played a game or two, and left as if they’d never existed to one another. But her? She shattered that silence like glass. You didn’t know who she was, but everyone else seemed to. Heads turned, conversations halted, and even the usual clamor of the old jukebox seemed to dull in her presence. She strode toward the bar, brushing off the stares that trailed her like shadows. It was obvious she didn’t give a single fuck about anyone in the room. Whatever power she held over the crowd, she didn’t seem interested in wielding it—at least, not tonight. Stopping at the counter, she gave the drinks menu the briefest glance before tapping the laminated surface with her finger.

"Can I have this?” she muttered, her voice low and uninterested, pointing to a drink. Then, without looking at you, she added, “Make it a double.”

“Sure thing,” you replied, watching her as you reached for the bottle. She didn’t meet your gaze, didn’t acknowledge you at all, but that only gave you the chance to study her features: pink hair cut into a sharp mullet, light blue eyes that didn’t seem to care about much, and freckles scattered across her nose like they’d been painted there.

“Here you go,” you said, sliding the drink toward her. She grabbed it without a word, her attention flickering to the room around her. Even now, she seemed utterly uninterested in you—or anyone else, for that matter. She didn’t sip the drink so much as down it, her throat working as the liquid disappeared almost too quickly. You found yourself leaning slightly forward, unable to look away. There was something about her, something impossible to read. You liked puzzles, and she was the hardest one you’d come across in a long time.

Who was she? Some kind of criminal? Or maybe she was the exact opposite? Why was she here? Trying to get drunk, or waiting for someone? Before you could settle on an answer, she tapped the counter sharply, her empty glass sitting in front of her. The message was clear. Another. You poured the drink without hesitation, the silence between you stretching long and tense. As you set the glass down, she didn’t so much as glance your way.

“You’re welcome,” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm, hoping to at least provoke some kind of reaction.

It worked—but not the way you’d hoped. She turned her head, finally looking at you, and you almost wished she hadn’t. Her glare was sharp, cutting, and filled with barely-contained anger.

“Just do your job,” she said coldly, her voice low and cutting. “I didn’t come here for chitchat.”

She turned back to her drink, dismissing you entirely, but the tension she left behind lingered in the air, coiling around you like smoke. Whatever game you thought you were playing, she wasn’t interested.

“What an asshole,” you thought bitterly, dragging your gaze away from her and down to the bar. The question lingered in your mind—should you say something? Not because you couldn’t stand up for yourself, but because, you weren’t sure if she was even worth it.

She tossed back another drink, her sharp eyes cutting across the room as she motioned lazily for someone to come over.

“Again,” she muttered, her gaze flicking back to you. For a fleeting second, it softened—just barely. But the moment was gone as fast as it came, replaced by her usual aloofness when a tall man approached her with an appearance that screamed trouble. You busied yourself making another drink, ears pricked to catch their conversation.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here, Vi,” the man greeted her, his tone carrying an edge of wary excitement.

She chuckled dryly, grabbing her fresh glass without even looking at him.

“What are you playing over there?” she asked, dismissive, like she hadn’t even heard him.

He hesitated, glancing at his buddies like he was searching for backup. It was obvious he didn’t want her involved, but too afraid to say no.

“Just some boring cards,” he replied with a strained grin. “You’re, uh, welcome to join.”

“I’ll be right there.” Her words were ice-cold as she turned back to you. “Another one.”

You stared at her silently, letting your expression say everything your words didn’t. She noticed. Of course, she noticed.

But instead of acknowledging it, she took the drink you handed her and headed over to the table of men, sliding into a seat among the kind who spent their nights gambling away the last shreds of their dignity. Vi. That was her name. At least you had that much now. But she was still a puzzle—a unsolvable one. You watched her, lost in your thoughts, until Revek appeared from the back of the bar, his sharp eyes scanning the room before settling on her.

“Haven’t seen her in a while,” he muttered, settling onto a stool.

“Who even is she?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself.

Revek leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “Remember I told you abour shit that went down three years ago? Piltover, Zaun, all that Hextech chaos?”

You nodded.

“She was part of it. A big part.”

You squinted, piecing it together. “That explains why everyone knows her down here.” You frowned, the anger bubbling back up. “She’s an asshole.”

Revek chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, you could say that. After everything went to hell, she holed up in some dump around here. Doesn’t talk to anyone. Just drifts between bars, sometimes… worse places, drowning herself in cheap booze.”

“Was she always like this?” you pressed, desperate to understand.

“That’s a long story,” Revek began, but his words were cut off by the sharp sound of glass shattering across the room.

Your head snapped toward the noise. Of course, it was her, standing over some poor bastard, yelling and swearing. Revek shot you a look and stood, ready to step in, but you stopped him with a firm hand.

“I’ll handle it,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument.

“You sure?” he asked, hesitation in his voice.

You nodded, already moving toward the chaos. By the time you got there, she was on top of the guy, fists flying with a fury that could have leveled buildings. The crowd around them was frozen, too shocked—or maybe too entertained—to intervene.

“Hey!” you shouted, but she didn’t even flinch.

“Stop it! Now!” you tried again.

Still nothing. She was too far gone, lost in her rage. Without thinking, you moved in to pull her off—but before you could, pain exploded across your face, and you found yourself on the ground, disoriented.

The room went silent.

When your vision cleared, you realized, she had hit you.

Vi stood over you, her expression flickering with something almost like regret. “Shit,” she muttered, reaching a hand toward you. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Get the fuck out,” you snapped, cutting her off as you staggered to your feet.

She hesitated, her gaze locking with yours. You made sure she saw every ounce of your anger, your disgust.

“Now,” you commanded, stepping closer.

For once, she didn’t fight back. She just turned and walked.

Days passed, and thankfully, she didn’t come back. Still, every time you stood behind the bar, her face crept into your mind—her cockiny, her sharp eyes, her unbearable attitude. It filled you with rage. You already had too much on your plate; the last thing you needed was to waste energy hating some pink-haired asshole. But despite yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about her. It wasn’t all bad, you supposed. At least thoughts of her kept you from thinking about Ellie. But replacing heartbreak with anger wasn’t exactly a healthy trade.

It was another calm day, the kind you’d come to appreciate in the wake of the chaos she’d brought. If anything, her outburst had earned you some respect. The regulars gave you a nod, a look, as if standing up to her had proven something. But the peace didn’t last. The bar doors swung open, and the room fell into an all-too-familiar hush. You didn’t even need to look to know who it was. The tension in the air told you everything.

Vi.

Revek appeared at your side almost immediately, his eyes darting toward her. “This gonna be trouble?” he asked, his voice low.

“I’m fine,” you replied, keeping your gaze locked on her as she strode toward you. There was something deliberate in her steps, something… different.

Her eyes met yours from across the room, and you stood your ground.

“I think I made myself clear last time,” you said coolly, though your voice carried that simmering edge of anger you couldn’t quite hide. “You’re not welcome here.”

“I know,” she replied, stopping in front of the bar. Her tone was calm, almost subdued. “I’ll leave. But first, I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

You narrowed your eyes, studying her. There was no cocky smirk, no sarcastic retort. Just… awkwardness.

“I was drunk,” she continued, her voice low. “That guy said something—something that pissed me off. I lost control.” She hesitated, her eyes searching yours. “It’s not an excuse, but… I didn’t mean to hit you. I would never—”

“But you did,” you cut her off sharply, though you could already feel the fight draining out of you. She was being honest. You hated that you could tell, but you could.

“I know.” Her voice softened even more. “I didn’t see you. And I’m sorry. I really am.”

You exhaled, your shoulders dropping slightly as you leaned against the counter. You weren’t ready to forgive her—not entirely. But you were exhausted from carrying so much anger.

“Fine,” you said at last, pouring her the drink she’d ordered last time. Sliding it across the bar, you added, “I appreciate your honesty. I don’t appreciate assholes, though. And you? You were an asshole.”

A flicker of surprise crossed her face as she accepted the drink. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something else. But instead, she downed it in one quick motion, set the glass back on the counter, and walked out without another word.

She started coming back. At first, you thought it was a fluke—a one-time thing. But no. A few days later, she was there again. And again.

Sometimes she was alone, sometimes with a new girl on her arm, but the pattern stayed the same. She’d order a few drinks, stay for a while, and leave without so much as a word in your direction. She’d read your message loud and clear. But what you couldn’t figure out was why. Zaun was filled with bars—plenty of them even filthier than this one. So why keep coming back to this one? Was it defiance? Did she just not care about the fact that you didn’t want her here? Then there were the moments that left you even more confused. The way her gaze would linger,as she was hanging out with some random girl, her eyes flicking over to you when she thought you weren’t looking. It wasn’t often, but it was enough to notice. Enough to keep her lodged firmly in your thoughts.

Vi was a mystery. An infuriating, captivating mystery. And for some reason, you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting to figure her out. Maybe it was the distraction she provided, pulling you away from the ache of Ellie. Or maybe it was something else. Something about the way she carried herself, the way she owned a room even when she was silent. Whatever it was, she had you hooked—and you hated her for it.

Today was no different. She strolled in like she owned the place, another girl trailing behind her—a new one this time. She made a beeline for the bar and ordered a round of drinks before sliding into a table suspiciously close to where you were working. Maybe you were imagining things, but it felt deliberate. There were plenty of empty tables scattered throughout the room, especially ones better suited for whatever this was supposed to be. An intimate date? That hardly seemed like Vi’s style. The girl with her seemed sweet. Blonde hair with blue highlights that caught the dim lights of the bar, bright eyes, a soft smile. She leaned toward Vi as they talked, her body language screaming interest. But Vi? She sat back, arms draped casually over the chair, her expression distant, detached. It was like she craved the closeness but couldn’t bring herself to let anyone in.

It was… familiar. Too familiar.

You turned back to the counter, your hands working on autopilot as you wiped down the surface. Yet, no matter how much you tried to ignore her, your gaze kept drifting in her direction. And every time it did, you caught her watching you.

You didn’t like it.

Pouring yourself a drink, you told yourself it was just to take the edge off. One drink turned into two, and before long, the alcohol made everything sharper, more noticeable. You were too aware of her—every glance, every quiet laugh, every time her eyes flicked toward you. When it happened again, you decided enough was enough. You locked eyes with her, letting your gaze trail over her features, daring her to look away. She didn’t. At first, she looked confused, but that quickly morphed into something smug—a slow, cocky smirk creeping across her face. She leaned over, whispering something in the blonde’s ear. The girl nodded, and just like that, Vi stood and headed straight for you.

“Hey there,” she said, her voice calm but carrying that familiar edge of arrogance. Her eyes bore into yours, steady, confident.

“Well, look at you,” you quipped, leaning casually against the bar. “Turns out you can talk.”

She smirked. “Can you blame me? You called me an asshole and made it pretty clear you didn’t want me to talk to you.”

“Both of those things are true,” you replied with a dismissive shrug, though the faint trace of a grin played on your lips. You blamed the alcohol.

“So let me get this straight,” she teased. “You don’t want to talk to me, but you want me to talk to you? Maybe even acknowledge you?”

“Oh, I’ve noticed you acknowledging me,” you shot back, your tone dry. “Not with words, though.” Your hand idly wiped at the counter with a cloth, pretending nonchalance.

Vi chuckled, brushing off your jab. “Fair enough. Since you’re so insistent, let me drop the ‘asshole behavior’ for a minute.” She leaned in slightly. “I don’t even know your name.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to meet her halfway. “It’s Y/N,” you said, your voice firm. A beat of silence lingered between you, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, with a small smirk of your own, you added, “Now get back to your date. Don’t keep her waiting.”

You didn’t wait to see her reaction. The sudden surge of emotions made your chest tighten, and you dropped the cloth and glass onto the counter, heading for the backroom.

Intimacy—it wasn’t something you wanted. Not now. Not with her. Even the smallest brush of warmth from someone else felt like an open wound. You were comfortable in the cold, with the pain. Examining Vi had been easy, safe. She was uncertainty and sharp edges, not softness. You closed the door behind you, leaning back against it and exhaling deeply. Maybe one of these days you’d figure out what Vi was really doing to you. But not tonight. Not yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Note from author: It's my first time writing something ever please please please let me know if you liked that! I think that this fic will have 6/8 parts , so there's a lot unfold here. I kinda changed finale of Arcane, because Vi and Caitlyn don't end up together. Also, I have included Ellie as reader's ex girlfriend, so she will have more appearances in future. It would mean world to me if you shared my work (if you liked it of course) and please don't hesitate to message me, ask me questions about it or let me know what are your thoughts! Thank you!

[nothomegal]

"Flashing warnings"

Pyramid Head x GN Reader

Summary: you've been with the executioner for quite some time, enough for you to have your own special bond. You were his, and that fact alone was enough for the whole Silent Hill to avoid you, well aware of what they'll find out if they mess around. However, this little rule is unknown for any unfortunate newcomers that get trapped in this cursed town, and today you've met one of these newcomers... One would think, seeing monsters avoiding you like fire should be enough proof to do the same, but... Eh, some people are way too stubborn and blind.

Warnings: typical violence and gore, (Y/N) getting mistreated by meanies >:(

Word count: 2.9k

(Y/N) been sitting on this old matress for quite some time, they've already tried any possible sitting position yet non made the book they're reading more interesting.

Pyramid Head, or how they began to call him, 'Pyra', left to hunt and punish whatever soul putrid enough to get his attention. He's been gone a good amount of hours and they haven't heard a single sound of his in the distance, no metal scraping against the concrete at the distance or any screams of agony from his victim, nothing. How many hours it been? Three? Five? It's tough to tell, specially when this town knows no day/night cycles and it's always foggy. Even though they're not sure how long it been, they can tell it's the longest Pyra's been gone.

They switch into a laying position as they begin to think about what to do now. They could totaly go out and take a walk if they wanted, but they're concerned they'll end up bumping into the people Pyra is hunting. No, they won't get punished but they don't want to witness a literal slaughter neither, and whenever something (literaly anything) dares to interact with (Y/N), the pyramid headed beast seems to go wild of fury.

This is some very serious issolation, but (Y/N) became fine with it and Pyra is not as bad of a company as he initialy was. Feel him close to them, his big palm resting against their body as a reminder that he's there, the random noises that come out his helmet whenever he seems content or wants to get their attention... To be honest, these little things became more than enough at this point, and it's not like they've used to be the most social butterfly anyways. And even if they were... Well, arguing with Pyra is useless, he never budges, and if (Y/N) starts to get unreasonable or the argument goes nowhere, he simply brushes his togue across their face, purpously waiting for the moment their open their mouth. And ta-da! Argument solved since (Y/N) is too shocked and flustered to continue and Pyra simply let's out a deep and amused rumble.

(Y/N) chuckles to themselves at this memory, when it happened the first time the face they made was probably priceless, and the way Pyra allowed them to hide their face in his chest so the shame goes away... Sigh, they hope he returns soon.

The hairs on the back of their neck stood up when they began to hear the sound of numerous people run and hurriedly yellsomething to each other. (Y/N) of course panics a bit, and to avoid any possible interaction with the group of people they sneak into the corner of the room near the door, so if anyone of the group peeks inside they won't notice (Y/N) right away. It also seems like the people are running away from something, something that is not Pyra because of the lack of known bulky footsteps and scraping sounds.

Unfortunately, their little plan went town the drain when the group of around five man bursted through the old door and attempted to close it, while the creature outside of it was desperately slaming itself against the wooden surface. (Y/N) turned completely still as they shrunk in their place, internally hoping that due to the intense moment these people wouln't notice then and would simply brush off their form as some inanimate object.

Unfortunately, one of the men did noticed them.

—"Hey Dave, there's another one hidin' over he-"—

The man couldn't finish the sentence as the creature from the other side managed to burst through the door, throwing the men on the ground in the process. Some of them stumble back, others pull out their weapons and point at the creature, who resulted to be a monster known as ‘Slurper’, take a guess why it's called that. Not the most difficult creature to deal with but definitely the trickiest, it’s very fast and definitely can handle or dodge some shots and hits from the group.

The monster crawls inside of the room, it’s elongated face making some slurping noises as drool and blood drips from its mouth. But the beast suddenly freezes mid-step, and very slowly and subtly turns it’s head towards (Y/N), making the men look at them as well. The monster suddenly lets out a whine, similar to that of a dog, and practically runs away at high speed, completely terrified.

The group stare at the door in shock, their mouth gaping a bit. (Y/N) remains stiff, their knees pressed to their chest as they think what to do now. The answer comes when one of the man, who seems to be the leader, stands up and starts walking towards them, his expression indescifrable, but his gaze definitely holding malice.

So (Y/N) jumps to their feet as fast as they could and make a run through the doorway and down the hallway. They can hear the group yell something as they chase them, their voices angry and irritated, which only motivated them to keep running since it’s now clear that these people weren’t kind at all.

Things turn significantly worse when they get grabbed by the back of their clothes and then tackled down on the floor, the impact was rough and quite painful which made (Y/N) release a pained whine. The man above them grabs a good chunk of their hair and presses their head agains the dirty and cold floor as he looks at them.

—“The fuck was that? How did you do it?!”— he exclaims strictly, his tone demanding.

—“D-Did what?… S-Scaring the- the monster th-thing?”— you nervously reply, your voice a bit shaky. —“I-It’s not really me, it’s the being tha-that ‘owns’ me.”—

(Y/N) knew they sound like they’re crazy, like they’re out of their mind, but it’s the best way they can explain their unusual situation. It is true, the executioner practically owns them, he has the power to claim and to keep them with him, to keep anyone and anything away from something his, to keep them eternally by his side, his and no one else's.

As expected, the man on top of them only scrunched his face with confusion and disgust, definitely thinking that (Y/N) is just another crazy ex-resident of this hellish town.

—“Yeah… Right.”— he slowly says.

—“Mathew, do you still have the tape? Bring it.”—

A clear sound of a duct tape being unwrapped made them shiver, uh-oh, they’re in a big-time problem. They attempt to wiggle out and keep running, but the man above them slams their head agains the floor.

—“Keep it still bitch, we just want to figure out what the fuck is wrong with you.”— he grumbles angrily and slams your head again.

(Y/N) could feel blood start dripping from their nose. Being forced to calm down since these men clearly aren't fooling around and are not afraid to hurt them if they need, they relax and allow another one to tape their wrists together behind their back, as well as their ankles.

—“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into, the executioner will not have mercy…”— you comment, not even bothering to elaborate, knowing that these people are dead meat already.

—“Pff, executioner. If you’re of his property, then why were you in that room just chillin’ all by yourself?”— another man asks.

—“Because he can allow himself to do it, and because any smart creature knows to not fuck around me because of what they’ll found out.”— you say, your tone a bit sassier by the end.

—“Any smart creature, huh?”— the man that was on top of you suddenly grabs you by the throat. —“In my understanding, a smart creature will learn to shut the fuck up, I could easily cut your tongue off right now if I wanted but not sure if that will affect whatever effect you have on the monsters, so I'll give you one last chance to remain quiet, understood? You farm animal.”—

The grip on (Y/N)‘s throat was tight and it was hard to breathe, the male’s eyes were dark and cold, no hesitation in them as he said these threats, definetely not the first time he makes them. Believing his words, (Y/N) nods hurriedly as the lack of oxygen began to affect them. The man grins and let go of them roughly, basically throwing their body on the floor.

—“Aight, who’s going to carry their ass?”—

The men discuss for a short moment, until agreeing that the biggest one of them should do it. Ones everything was sorted out and (Y/N) was being manhandled in his grasp, the group resumed their walking.

The men were shocked, some of them even got smug, at the way the creatures avoided them now. What’s that? A monster does have guts to attack? A single sound or movement from (Y/N) was enough to set the creature from fight into flight. Each time something run away, the men would laugh and cackle loudly, clearly feeling like they've beat the system and are some sort of untouchable beings.

Silly bastards, they don’t know what awaits them.

It’s unclear how long they’ve been roaming around, but it was long enough for the group to get lost, again, and decide to take a rest. The man carrying (Y/N) carelessly (throws) puts them on the ground, face first, as the rest settle down as well. Non of the five bothered to talk or acknowledge (Y/N), though sometimes they would throw some random questions at them, but of course they'd never been able to finish the answer since one of the five would end up rudly interrupting them.

At some point (Y/N) began to ignore them, aware that they're nothing but a gag to these people. The youngest of the group seemed a bit pissed at being ignored, so he stands up and walks towards (Y/N)'s lying form, who was still paying no mind, and out of nowhere kicks them hard on their stomach, making the air inside of them leave in a violent exhale.

—"You talk and look at us when we speak to you."—

They say nothing, still trying to regain their breath. The man above them sighs and rolls his eyes before crouching down and grabbing them by their hair, to posteriorly pull them to their knees.

—"Listen sugar, just because you scare away the crap that lives here, it means shit to us. You're fuckin' helpless and at our mercy, so you do and act as told and when is told, understood?"—

Before (Y/N) could do anything, a sudden deafening roar resonated through the whole building and from an unknown direction. The noise similar to some huge unknown beast fiercely howling through something metallic. A shiver of anticipation ran through (Y/N)’s spine, Pyra must’ve found their drops of blood and figured out what happened, and now he’s on his way to take them back.

The other five noticeably tensed up and frantically looked around, as if trying to locate the creature through the walls...

Walls.

(Y/N)'s gaze was already focused on one of he walls, knowing that their lover would't waste his time in searching for an entrance. The man, who's still holding them by their hair, slowly drags his gaze to the same wall.

—"Guys..."— he says uneasily.

—"Yes, we heard that too, dumbass."— one of the other four hisses back.

—"No, guys, get away from the fuckin- "—

A loud crashing sound resonated behind the mentioned surface, followed by the well known heavy footsteps and scraping of metal. The other four quickly get behind the fifth and (Y/N), who was currently having the brightest grin on their face, relieved that he came for them.

—"{The fuck was that?!}"— one of the males yells half whispers to you.

—"That?"— you let a little hum as you close your eyes and look away so the dust doesn't get directly into your face. —"That is the reason why everything in here avoids me."— you say with the calmest tone possible.

—"Wha- "—

Another loud crash and a huge wave of dust cut off his question completely. While the dust was still on the air, the previous heavy footsteps were quickly approaching, making the floor shake with each step. When the men saw the silhouette of this massive unknown creature they paniced, since it showed no hits of stopping, quite the opposite actually. The one, that been holding (Y/N), pushes them roughly forward without thinking, actin on some desperate instinct.

—"Here! Take them instead!"—

The five were ready to run, but got stopped by their own shock when the monster reached out and caught (Y/N) before they fall on the ground. It was still hard to see what exactly the beast did, due to the still thick layer of dust, but the sudden loud and deep metallic growl that the beast let out was enough for them to defrost and set into running. They don't get too far though, since their legs get suddenly caught and tangled into a bunch of rusty wires and thorns coming out of the floor, whick held them still and cut their soft flesh with the mildest movement.

A small chill jolted through (Y/N) at the sight of the mysterious thorns. They knew it was Pyra's doing, he rarely used that hability of his and they learned that he only uses it when he's trully pissed. And he wasn't just that, he was livid. The sight of bruises on (Y/N)'s neck from the previous grab really railed the monster up, just how dares that filty mortal touch and mark something his? Only he has the privilege to touch (Y/N), to hold them, to look at them, to hear their voice and all the things they say in that calm and sweet tone they always use when they're happy... Just how dare they attempt to take all of this away from him? The executioner.

The monster tears the tape off (Y/N)'s wrists and ankles before putting them down, his movements a bit rough due his agitation yet he did his best to keep it under control.

He then rises to his full height, sword in hand, and slowly walks towards the group. The closer he got, the more desperate the man acted, pulling their legs out of the sharp wire-mess just for it to tangle around their limb even tighter.

The beast's first target was the youngest one, the one who had the guts to hold (Y/N) by their hair and threaten them, Pyra really didn't like that one.

The male has no time to even inhale to start begging, as the monster simply cuts him in half with his sword. (Y/N) of course didn't want to see the gore that is about to happen, so they carefuly and quietly leave the room through the hole their beast of a man made durning his enrance. The last thing they've seen before leaving was Pyra practically tearing one of the man up apart like paper, going specially slow to inflict even more pain.

(Y/N) is unsure how long it took Pyra to finish them, they simply remained sitted on the floor with their legs pressed against their chest and covering their ears to silence the screams and the wet gory sounds of muscles and bones breaking. They let out a yelp when their body is suddenly pulled up by a pair of large arms and is pressed agains a broad torso. Pyra held (Y/N) in this posessive embrace for quite a while, the mildes movement from them would make the beast growl and press them even closer.

(Y/N) however, still attempted to soothe their lover by gently nuzzling agains his chest and rub it with their hand.

—"I am so sorry..."— you apologize, though you both knew it wasn't really your fault. —"I was just hanging out in that room we've been before, and... And these people entered there while running away from another beast, and- "—

They couldn't finish the explanation since Pyra suddenly shoved their face further into his chest, muffing the rest of their little rant. The action, which embarassed (Y/N) a bit, also made them understand that their lover doesn't need any excuses or explanations, he's content to have them back and unharmed. They sigh softly and eventually relax in his grasp and going practically rag doll, in response and after some time, Pyra's body also relaxed a bit, yet his grip on (Y/N) remained strong and firm like iron, refusing to let go.

—"Pyra."— you manage to move yout head just enough to say it.

A low grumble resonated from his helmet and chest, though it didn't sound hostile, more like his version of 'hhmm?'.

—"I love you, thank you for being around."— you say honestly, as you move just enough to reach his neck area and kiss the little skin exposed between his clothes and helmet.

The little sweet gesture was answered with a low purr as Pyra's large hands roam around their body for a bit, caressing and feeling each curve through their clothes. The touches weren't suggestive surprisingly, which meant that this affection was genuine and not the product of his monstrous lust towards them.

They both stay like this for a while longer, (Y/N) saying and whispering things in a soft tone that Pyra absolutely adored to hear, and he kept holding them against himself, pawing their body time to time just to feel them more. Their warmth, their pulse, their breathing...

To feel them.

To feel them being all H̸̫̥͙̮͍̮͋͑Ḯ̴͓̦̻͈̜͍̇̃͋͠S̴͖̘̍̓̉̑.

[hyewka]

hii !! this is my first question thing .. can u maybe do a perv!yeonjun?

warnings: perv bestfriend!yeonjun, jealousy, corruption kink, stealing clothes, sniffing underwear/yeonjun has a thing for scent in general, obsessive behavior, switch!yeonjun, not proofread

"you save yourself?" he breathes, blinking rapidly like he was trying to piece this sacred information together.

"yeah, i mean, i just sort of ...grew up with the expectation." you say shrugging. it wasn't a big deal, you've always just went through it, not having the desire to be sexually active during your teenage years anyway.

yeonjun stares at you mind boggled, lips slightly parted before he just lets out a light scoff, brows slowly knitting together.

you shift awkwardly at his reaction- you're not sure what you expected but it wasn't whatever ...that was. yeonjun was the most open minded person you've met and know. exact reason why it's a breeze for you to confide in him about anything and everything.

you've never told him about your stupid virginity pact assuming he'd never live the information down-- a sophomore at college was a virgin? it didn't help that yeonjun's reputation included a lot of...well, the opposite of a virgin.

but the more you got to know him, the more you let the worry go-- he never seemed the type. until now, the regret slowly creeping up of ever mentioning it.

yeonjun suddenly takes a swig of his drink, still dazed.

"i mean i get it, it's not very feminist of me is it?" you try lightening up the mood, laughing at your own joke.

yeonjun's not on the same thought train. whatsoever. your earlier statement about finally 'trying it out' sticking out sorely in his head now knowing you were a virgin. "and...and you're going to give it up to fucking wooyoung?" he spits out with a mocking sneer.

okay, now you're confused. you turn your body on the couch to yeonjun, who had his forearms laid on his knees, posture bent with a strong grip on his red cup eyes focused on the crowd dancing to the blasting music. "what's wrong with wooyoung? i mean he's my boyfriend. and you guys are friends...did he do something wrong?"

yeonjun's venomous smile withers, practically evaporates as he throws an arm around your shoulder- if you hadn't spent hours doing your hair, he would've normally ruffled it, but his hands avoid it, his trademark teasing smirk that you could probably draw from memory showing up, "nothing, nothing's wrong. i was just messing with you. i got you, didn't i?"

you blink dumbfounded, but before you could question the sudden transition he had already switched topics and you reluctantly let it go.

yeonjun who goes home that night, far from his original plan to get trashed, opening his closet in desperate search of the cardigan you forgot on his couch a few days ago. when he spots it, he gulps, grabbing it and looking down at the baby blue in his hand for a second.

when he originally recognized it as yours, thoughts of calling you to pick it up weren't lasting. see, yeonjun has recently been hit by a sudden infatuation with you the past year, even after you started going out seriously with wooyoung. he wasn't too concerned, afterall, it was natural-- you were attractive, of course in the way of your friendship he'd eventually feel something more. it happened with more than half of his female friends, it always proved to be fleeting.

but the longer he caught his eyes trailing down your ass, subconsciously licking his lips, before snapping out of it and stuffing his perverted hands in his pockets to stop himself from losing control, the harder he felt he had to have you. it was so bad that his occasional flings mortifyingly started sounding a lot more like you...and looked a carbon copy.

so what if had a sickenly desire of touching, ruining every inch of your body? what could he do with your silly cardigan anyway?

yeonjun who finds it almost bothersome as he approaches his bed, grip tight on the fabric, wrinkling it in his hand. the fabric that's responsible to the haven that was your scent, stenched with you, everything you. you've always worn it out, to the point he thought it was your only jacket (to which he tried suggesting to gift you a new one), but you told him it was because the fabric was breathable, comfortable compared to most things in your closet.

he guessed it was your favorite.

so what would you think of him now? staining your favorite piece of clothing, hand shaking as he immediately shoves his nose in the line of the cardigan, his control breaking as he takes a deep exhale in, flickering his eyes shut, his lungs filled with you. the power of smell, it felt like you were right next to him when he had his eyes closed, taking another whiff before frantically trying to smell every inch of the fabric. his head light with ecstasy, his hand drive themselves over his bulge, feeling his hard on through his loose sweats, before his pace picks up, palming his dick, his breathing heavy and unrhythmic -- the mere scent of you making him go mad.

perv!yeonjun who gets dangerously fast to his climax, his hand faltering as he takes another whiff, groans easily slipping out of his mouth with the way they shamefully hung open-- so addicted he thinks he might go insane, his drool trickling down under his chin, some wiped on your cardigan because he was a dog with a bone. a crazed animal he realizes when he finally shudders, soiling his boxers, watching a large wet path spreading rapidly with growth on the area of his crotch.

who knew he could fucking get off of a cardigan? that's when the panic settled in as his hand shake in realization of what the fuck he just did.

he ruined his pants...because of your cardigan.

perv!yeonjun who feels like such a freak when he bumps into you at campus, yet continues to use your cardigan to his free will, hips canting against his bed with his head buried in the fabric, "f-fuck, y/n, you do this to me..." his babbles are so shameful to the way he carries himself, strong, masculine--anything but weak to a scent of a mere girl.

but it was you. the girl he felt he could spend eternity laying his head on, eternity hearing just a laugh, a snappy retort, a stupid dumb joke-- anything, he could do anything for you, with you, anything and he would find no use with anyone else.

he tries to get rid of his concerningly growing infatuation, deciding that he was acting out because of his lack of pussy-- going to every frat party on thursday, taking a pretty girl to a secluded enough space, have a pretty good fuck, feeling pretty fucking good on his way home-- until he's on his toilet again, left hand jerking off his swollen cock, his tip leaking precum, gawking down at your new post, biting his lips so painful at the shot of your ass in skinny jeans. "fuck!" he yells, strings of his cum spurting all over his screen, so frustrated with the hold you had on him, especially when you spared him zero romantic attention.

you had your heart reserved for someone else, and it was never not shoved in his face. it was the main drive for him-- when he spots wooyoungs hand sneakily going dangerously under your waist, his lips too close to your ears, body pressed against your ass a little too much for his comfort-- the occasional eye rolls were impossible to control in the first place, but these days, rage got to the best of him.

as far as he knew, based on your rambles lately, you haven't slept with wooyoung yet. you were still a virgin. and the scent of you was wearing off the cardigan, not able to get himself off properly.

he couldn't return it, the fabric was ruined with stains of his cum not washed off even after the third circle in the washing machine-- he impulsively opted to buy an identical, praying to god you wouldn't notice the difference.

perv!yeonjun who has a habit of lingering in an embrace with you, nose buried in your hair, discreetly trying to inhale your smell, before you awkwardly try to pull out of his suffocating grasp. "yeonjun, you're acting like you haven't seen me in years." you say, finally breaking the embrace with yeonjun's hands defeatedly falling to his side, staring at you with such intensity you don't notice.

its so so full of pity, his eyes, hidden with all the perverted things he would do to you- hes' thought of doing to you. his mind was rotten, if you let him, he'd take you right then and now. slamming his hips into his best friend's tight pussy, breaking your hymen, mixture of his seed and proof of your virginity taken-- a sight to be imprinted in his memory foreer.

hes dreamt of it even more vividly, being the one to take your virginity, in his fantasies- the one you've reserved for him. it's why you haven't fucked wooyoung yet, right? you wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

yeonjun who has built a pile, a haven of all the guilty stolen treasures. clumsy with the elastic bands of his boxers, quick as he flings out his dick from the restriction of his pants, his hand slow on his shaft, dragging up and down with the stickiness of his precum, burying his nose into h like the fabric would evaporate into thin air at any time, like this was his last shot at getting something remotely reminiscent of you, deep groans of your name that sometimes get out of his control, turning to loud moans, the family next door unappreciative.

perv!yeonjun who's addicted to taking your things, stuffing it in either his pockets or bag, ruining it back at home the same day with his filthy thick load, your suspicions rising only making it more thrilling with each trashed item.

yeonjun who loses his last bits of restraints when you're jokingly pushed directly on his lap, floors of the living room being occupied by most of your friends invited for the group watch, the couches all full, chairs all used, of course they thought it'd be funny if you sat on yeonjun. you didn't mind it all too much, finding no issue with sitting on your best friend-- you've done it a few times before, skinship was normal between the both of you. but you still wanted to make sure he was comfortable.

you lean your head back to whisper in his ear, noticing the way his pronounced adam apple bopped up and down, which was odd-- yeonjun being nervous? but you ignore it, "i can stand if you're not comfortable."

his eyes tear from the premier that has the entire living room roaring with excitement, "n-no, it's okay, you're alright. i'm alright."

"...you sure? you don't look like you're alright."

"i'm seriously good y/n, let's focus on the show, we've been waiting for a whole year."

hesitantly you nod, it's true, the cliff hanger last season was a bite in the ass, so you ignore your gut, tuning in with the rest of your friends.

yeonjun who can't help the soft whimpers escaping his lips the more you jump at a scene then fall back down, his boner growing harder and harder, trying to go to the bathroom, but you're too focused on the show he's stuck under you as you adjust your position every few minutes, your ass with no knowledge, getting him off. his breathing gets heavier, nose flaring, so thankful the lights were off and it was night, too crowded for anybody to catch onto the way he was bucking his hip up into you, making the friction enough to get his head dizzy, arms snaking around your waist, tightening the closer he gets, the way you're so clueless spurring him on-- his face dipping into the crook of your neck, sweat dripping down his forehead, taking a deep breath before muffles his moan with a bite down his lip, whimpers as he finally releases.

he throws his head back on the couch, trying to calmly catch his breath, a grin spreading across his face letting his mind drift to how heavenly itd feel being inside you if grinding against you felt this good.

you turn your head back, voice hoarse and quiet, "...yeonjun?"

"yeah?"

your eyes trail down, and it takes the perv a few seconds to realize before his forehead crease flatten.

oh shit.

yeonjun just stained your leggings.

----

[prettyboykatsuki]

keep me close to you | i. yoichi

✮ tags ; childhood best friends to lovers / idiots to lovers, reader is implied to have grown up a tomboy, stereotypical shoujo manga tropes rip, reader wears makeup, a lot of sexual tension, kissing, confessions 18+

✮ wc ; 3.6k (i don't know. don't ask me.)

✮ a/n ; the worlds most self-indulgent horseshit in the world. sorry! but im not at all actually. this is the very typical 'i didn't see you that way until i realize i did the whole time.' bc i love that trope and i love isagi ok....

reader in this kind of feels awkward in her femininity and that appears in the fic more than once!! please be forewarned.

✮ synopsis ; isagi has never seen you as much more of a friend. so he thought at least.

Isagi is in love with you.

He isn't sure when that happened. He'd love to be know but in all truth - there was never any big eureka moment that made such a thing apparent. If Isagi had to think of all the moments he maybe, sort-of, possibly loved you, they come up to him as bits of nothing-much memories.

That's exactly the problem, really. A long few years of little nothings, accumulated over time, Isagi finds that his whole life has been made up of you. There was no grand gestures of confessions or singular standout moments for him to mull over.

But there was rough-housing with you back when your hair was a little shorter and your chest a little less noticeable. And there was plenty of bike races to the store for ice-cream, and lots of bonding over music you both liked. Isagi remembers sitting on your floor in the 6th grade and watching you play video games much better than he ever could.

A lot that stuff persisted into your teen years, and even into adulthood. Isagi has never thought of it as weird. Play fighting or bike races or being reckless together felt natural - and in some ways, you were the only person who ever brought that out of him.

It was normal. You were friends and you got along as friends. Isagi never thought about it any more than that.

Just a few months ago, you got a boyfriend. Said boyfriend didn't think your friendship with Isagi was entirely appropriate. He had approached Isagi first. You talked to Isagi after, said you'd still hang out but no more rough-housing and that was that.

Isagi had heard about your boyfriend, though you didn't talk about him much. And after meeting him, it was easy enough to conclude that he was genuinely a good guy. Objectively good for you, accepting of your personality, kind and thoughtful. A good stable job There was nothing bad he could say about him. He wished there was.

"Just the being touchy. I know you two don't think anything of it since you've been friends for so long," He leans in, friendly, as he pats Isagis shoulder "But you wouldn't like if your girlfriend was being touchy with another guy right?"

Isagi had nothing to say. He'd never thought about. Never had a proper girlfriend, though he was interested in a few girls. He'd lost his virginity out of the country and had some hook-ups and talking stages. Never a girlfriend.

Would it bother him? He couldn't say. He didn't know who to think of. There was not a hypothetical girl he could conjure to give him a conclusion. Ultimately dazed, Isagi had replied with something along the lines of "Yeah man, I get it," and then left for practice without turning his back.

It bothered him for weeks. He couldn't do anything without pondering that very question. He couldn't stop thinking about the way he'd described you as his girlfriend. You'd always been a friend, and Isagi knows you as a girl. But you're you before that, and he's never quite put both things next to each other.

But he'd never even thought to look at you as a girlfriend. He brushed off such comments and so did you. You were his friend. One of the very best. You'd know each other until you die, and in a way - this is just proof of your next stage of life. You'd settle down with a partner and so would he and everything would be fine.

But, the thing was - he'd never actually conjured up the future. There was never any assured belief that you'd go and find someone to nest with so soon. It felt unnatural. Disorienting. There was an order to this strange and mad world and your relationship went against it.

Even in thinking that, it'd take Isagi weeks to figure out the extent of his feelings. Weeks of practicing, of going on group dates with his team, of drinking. Weeks of missing you. Being conscious of the sudden absence of his very best friend in the world. You still saw him but it was no longer every other day. And you still called and texted, still told him stupid stuff about your life.

But he'd go on Instagram and see pictures of you from someone else's account. You'd be wearing something he'd never seen you in before. It was pretty. You were prettier. He'd never thought about that before, if only to say that you were and always had been. And plenty of guys had noticed in highschool, too. He'd never thought about it then either.

Isagi had never really considered a lot of things. It didn't dawn on him that he loved you until Bachira pried the information out of him one night on the road.

("Yocchan is stupid,"

Isagi leans on the bench in the locker room and frowns, throwing a confused look Bachira's.

"What the hell? For what?"

It's not Bachira who tells him the information - but Rin, who walks towards his own locker with a tired expression and a towel around his shoulder.

"You're in love with her, you stupid jackass.")

Right. It'd been Rin who told it to him straight, and Rin would know a thing about love. Apparently he'd been with the same girl since highschool and he knew a thing or two. For Rin to tell Isagi such a thing made Isagi really think on it, and when Isagi finally sat down and thought about it - it was clear that he was head over heels in love.

Isagi is in love with you. It has been a tremendous pain in the ass trying to live with this information. It made sense - it really did. It made sense that everything suddenly felt so wrong. It made sense that he never new anything about love and that he could never keep a relationship.

When he thought about it, he'd never stop comparing everyone to you. If it were you—you'd be clumsy at fancy restaurants but it'd still be so much fun to go. If it were you—he might've cared much more about valentines day chocolates. It would've been so novel, so lovely - to imagine how hastily you would've made them. Not obligatory friendship chocolates but something just for him.

If it were you, he might've wanted to buy you expensive things. They'd be different. Clothes and shoes but game consoles and concert tickets. If it were you, he'd always take his sports car. He might've liked the way you fawned over them, with that wide-eyed sense of adventure he's spent his whole life getting to know.

Yes if it were you, Isagi might've gotten angry. Now that he knows, the idea you're getting so touchy-feely with another guy makes him sick. He knows he has no right to feel that way, but he can't exactly help the feeling either.

From the start, if Isagi had realized love started and ended with you, then maybe he would know a thing or two about love by now. He might've cared more about everything, had he realized it even a little sooner.

A few months ago would've sufficed.

Isagi is in love with you.

He has no idea if you feel the same, but in a way that doesn't change anything.

He's seated on his couch, alone in his apartment - and thinking wistfully that he probably has been this whole time.

He looks around his apartment, feeling a little sorry for himself. He's drinking. Even this tipsy, his mind is clouded with memories. You looked at this place together and you helped Isagi move in many months ago.

A place with a good view of the city, Isagi stands to his feet and watches near the cool glass of the window.

It takes him a while to hear his phone ring. When he does, he almost feels like he's hallucinating when he sees your name on the other side. He stares, wonders if the kami like playing malicious tricks on him, and then picks up.

He speaks slowly.

"Hello?"

He knows your crying, even though you're trying harder to hide it. That desperate sniffle that you get is an easy tell.

"Yoichi," You mutter, soft and sad "Can you come to the park?"

"At this hour? It's late. Your boyfriend is gonna be pissed."

You hiccup on the other side of the line. Isagi wants to run to you as soon as possible.

"Just come," You sniffle again, a little sadder. You're crying this time forreal "...I want to see you."

"Okay. Are you alone?"

"Mm,"

"Stay on the phone with me. I'll come soon. Stay on the line."

"Okay."

__

Isagi comes to find you at the park like you've asked. He keeps you on the line the entire Uber ride there and then as he comes through the playground to find you.

Somehow, he knows exactly where you'll be. It's the park you two grew up coming to. It's dark out, damp from the night, and Isagi finds you tucked in the same corner you always are.

You still fit there somehow, just beneath the slide. It's a big space, enough for two people. So, wordless, Isagi climbs into the little box and sits next to you. Close but not close enough, he hangs up the phone and turns his head to stare at you.

"I'm here," He says, mostly because he doesn't know what else to say.

You look up at him, obviously having been crying. You're wearing a sweatshirt and shorts, but your face has some light make-up on it like you were on a date. He forces himself not to frown as you gaze at him - pouting.

"You're here." You repeat, like you don't know what else to say. You lean your head on his shoulder. It's the most natural feeling in the world, but right now - it makes his breath hitch "Thanks for comin'"

"Are you gonna tell me what happened?"

"Well I don't want to."

"Can you really say that after crying like a baby, begging for me to come over, huh? All I want to see you—"

You elbow him without mercy.

"Shut up you jackass. Sorry to interrupt your late night jerk-off session with my tears."

It's not said with any malice, a joke - but there's insecurity laced in. Sorry for making you come see me, you want to say he's sure. He shakes his head.

"I could've been hooking up with a girl."

"Yeah? It's a miracle anyone would wanna get your dick wet, you should go back and finish the job,"

"Can't," Isagi mumbles, trying not to look at you closely "Some girl is making my shoulder wet instead though."

"Sorry," You croak, so horrifyingly sincere Isagi doesn't know how he's keeping himself upright "I can move."

"I was kidding," He says, hurriedly "It's fine. It reminds me of when we we're kids."

You huff a laugh.

"You only remember annoying stuff."

He mumbles something in agreement before there's a brief bout of silence. He speaks again first.

"Gonna tell me what happened?"

"We broke up," You mumble. Isagi feels his heart race, immediately riddled with guilt afterwards. "He broke up with me."

"I thought things were going well?"

"They were," You sniffle. It's the first time in your lives you've opened up to each other about something like this. You've talked about it, but it was always more him talking and you listening. He'd never heard about your crushes before.

In such a vulnerable, innocent position. Alone with him, confiding in him. He wants to stay with you forever "He was really good to me."

"So what? Why'd you break up?"

"I didn't love him. I liked him. And I thought I'd come to love him, but I didn't...I just couldn't love him. He knew it too, so he broke up with me."

"Was he mean about it?"

You laugh.

"Course not. He's one of the nicest guys I've ever met in my whole life. Told you, he was good to me."

"So then...? Are you sad about hurting his feelings?"

You nod, almost meek.

Isagi loves you more than life itself, he thinks.

"I wanted to love him. I thought I could."

"Why couldn't you?"

A brief pause of silence. You're debating on what to say before you seem to settle on something.

"Already someone else."

"Someone else? You love someone else?"

A whisper of hope. So small Isagi almost can't bear it. You nod.

"And what about them?"

"Doesn't love me back."

"How long?" His voice is shaking. He has no idea if you can tell. You laugh.

"A long time."

"Do I know him?"

You laugh again, a little throatier. More melancholy. Isagi feels like he's looking into an abyss. A dangerous place to fall in if he's not careful. He's already in love, already too deep. But he already steeled himself not to hope too much.

"You do know him, I guess."

"Tell me about him," Isagi almost urges. He has to be sure. He has to be sure this isn't one long dream, and that everything is real. "What he's like."

You look at him surprised.

"I thought you hated when I talked about stuff like this?"

"Changed my mind."

"Weirdo. It's nothin' special. We've known each other a while. We get along well. He likes the stuff I do and I like being around him."

"When'd you realized you loved him?"

"Middle school? Probably."

Ah. You've known each other a little longer than that, haven't you?

"You're being awfully secretive about it. Nothing more specific?"

You frown at him.

"Piss off. Go back to not caring about it. It's a dark part of my past and I already gave up on it forever ago."

"What if..." Isagi swallows. He's really the dumbest guy in the entire world for this. It could always be someone else. He knows that. "If your feelings were returned? What then?"

"I've never thought about it," You say, not even considering it might be the case "I'd be happy but I don't see the point in getting my hopes up. His type in girls is like...cuter I guess."

Isagi wants to knock himself out. Idiot. He's gone and ruined his own chances. He wish he could go back and kick the ass of his highschool self. If he called you cute right now, you'd definitely think he was trying to coddle your feelings. You are cute to him.

He can't get the words out.

"And you don't think you are?"

You shoot him a surprised look then burst out into laughter.

"Well, no. Daisuke used to say it but I don't know. Most guys wouldn't think of me as...cute? Sexy maybe? Apparently some of the guys from department see it that way."

Aah. Isagi hates this. He hates hearing that guys name without honorifics. His first name, at that.

"You should listen to the guy you used to date and not whatever knuckleheads you go to school with."

"Are you saying I'm cute, Yoichi? Started feeling bad?"

"It's not pity, alright? But you're not..not cute."

You pause before breaking out in genuine, unruly laughter. Isagi adores the sound of your voice, adores every inch of you as you giggle yourself into a fit.

"You'll never get a girlfriend like that. You have to at least be able to pretend."

It's not pretending. He wants to tell you that you're cute. The way you laugh is cute and the look you get playing stupid claw machine games is cute and the way you get excited by the 7/11 carrying your favorite things is cute. It's never been different and you still look so delighted. Everything about you is cute. Isagi wants to say all that, and that he finds you sexy too. For different, ordinary reasons those stupid guys in your department could never begin to know.

But words are useless - inconceivably pointless to try and make you understand.

"You're cute," He says first, staring at the place in front of him. Then adds "That's not pity."

"So you know how to smooth talk too?"

"It's not that either."

"Then what is it?" Your voice is wavering.

Now or never.

"A confession."

Isagi feels you tense. Feels you freeze. You start to stutter another joking, lifting your head from his shoulder to turn away but Isagi is quicker. Quick to hold your shoulder, to turn you towards him, to hold your cheek and make you look his face.

"Yoichi?"

"Is it me? Am I the person you like?"

You shake your head trying to look away.

"I don't want to answer that."

"I like you," Isagi grips your shoulder tighter, presses his forehead against yours as he holds on for dear life with hope "I only figured it out recently."

A bout of silence passes before your voice sounds again. It's shaking so hard. Isagi can hear how hard your heart is beating.

"This is fucking mean." You whisper. He frowns at you.

"Do I look like I'm joking? Huh? Does it even kind of seem like that?"

"But since when?" You're arguing. Isagi just confessed his undying love for you and you're arguing with him about it. It's so you. "I'm not even your type."

"No one is my type but you, you idiot." Isagi is exasperated explaining this. It's embarrassing but he's a lot of time to reflect and this is as true as it gets "Every single time I'd ever tried dating someone else or doing things with them - I didn't care. I just did it without thinking. But I always thought if it was you...I'd always want it to be you."

"You're not attracted to me." You assert, maybe trying to compensate.

"Fuck you, I couldn't tell you that you were hot to your face. You kicked my ass every time I mentioned the fact your tits got bigger in highsc—"

You shove him with your shoulder.

"Because you talk about it like that you shitty jock." You hiss.

"Then what do you want me to say?" Isagi mumbles, looking at you "I think you're sexy. What else is there?"

"God this is so embarrassing,"

"I'm being serious," Isagi adds, pouting, face flush with heat "You're just...you've always been attractive I guess."

You give him a small frown. Isagi thinks it's the cutest thing in the world. He wants to kiss you absolutely fucking stupid.

"Are you sure? Like really sure?"

He snorts, laughing humorlessly.

"I've been agonizing about it for weeks. Yes I'm sure."

"What if I told you to kiss me? Could you do it?"

Isagi stares at you in disbelief. He turns himself slightly, staring at you before reaching his hand out towards your cheek. You make a soft noise of surprise as he brushes his thumb underneath your eye. Your face is so hot it's burning against the palm of his hand. He lets his hand settle on the back of your neck before leaning into kiss you.

He kisses you hard but slow. Passion imbued into each tiny movement, drawing as deep as he can go without pushing his tongue between your lips.

You let out a soft moan that makes him pull away, eyes widened. Humiliated you try to shove him away, but Isagi manages to catch you by your wrist.

"Is it starting to click or do you need me to prove it one more time?"

"Ugh. Fuck, you're so,"

He grins wolfishly as he stares at you, watching you shrink so slightly under his gaze. He's not used to winning against you in any capacity with the exception of soccer. It feels good.

"I'm so?"

"Annoying."

"That's it?" He leans in again, lips brushing your cheek and pressing a kiss to it before moving down. He presses kisses down your jaw, relishing in the way you squirm. "Nothing else to add?"

"You're enjoying this too much, Yoichi," You reprimand, though you don't make any effort to move "Are you fishing for compliments?"

"I'm wondering if you find me sexy too, that's all."

You pause before leaning in. He watches the gears turn in your brain before turning your voice low.

"Wanna touch me and find out yourself?"

He pulls away instantly in shock as you blink at him innocently. There's an air of smugness about you. He feels his face burn red immediately, blood rushing up into his brain. He tucks his chin looking away from you. His brain feels like it's full of static.

He's embarrassed. By what you've said but more by how naturally everything falls into place. By how effected he is by something so simple. It usually takes so much more to get him like this.

"What the hell was'at..."

"Karma. Don't be all cocky. I've known about my feelings way longer than you."

"Didn't think you'd know jackshit about stuff like that though."

"Just cause I spare you my sex stories doesn't mean they don't exist."

Isagi feels a pang of irritation as he scoffs.

"I don't want hear about them now either."

"I thought you weren't the jealous type?"

"I just wasn't that into any of those girls."

"But you're into me? Enough that you get jealous?"

Isagi laughs at that.

"Yeah. I'm way more into you than you're ever gonna get through your head anyways."

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Means I wanna get all lovey-dovey with you and embarrass you all the time."

You flush and Isagi feels like he's won. Instead of feeling elated or cocky, this time he just feels a little dazed. He stares at you through lidded eyes.

"I'm so into you," Isagi mutters, leaning his head against your shoulder "You're never gonna get it unless you look in my brain,"

You pause momentarily, leaning back enough that Isagi sits up. He looks at you curiously before he feels you tap foreheads. You close your eyes and hum, before peeking just one open.

"I looked," You say softly "I still win,"

Isagi groans internally. God. God you're so fucking cute. It's so you and it's so cute and he loves you.

"Can I please kiss you again?"

"You don't have to ask every time."

"No takebacks."

Isagi leans in again, to kiss you a little softer this time. When he pulls away, the look on your face makes him want to do it all over again. You'll be here all night if he doesn't get a hold of himself.

"You wanna come over to my place?"

"Isn't a little early for that?"

Isagi knocks your foreheads together.

"Not like that. It's late and the trains aren't running. I don't want you taking a cab,"

"I'm a big girl, Yoichi," You say sardonically "If you want me to stay over, just ask. You're still my best friend, dummy." You add the last part a little softer.

He grabs your hand.

"Then stay with me."

You nod.

"Okay. And we can have sex if you want."

"Fuck yeah."

[toska-writes]

“Where the stars can shine”

Summary: the fighting never stops, and it never will so it’s in everyone’s best interest to find the calm moments when you can.

Pairing: The Bad Batch x padawan!reader (OF COURSE THIS IS PLATONIC)

Warning: none just so much fluff!

Word count: 1261 (not proof read but what did you expect)

Notes: IM WATCHING THE NEW BAD BATCH SEASON AFTER THIS! So this is my way of manifesting everyone being alright to end the show 🥲

The war never ended, nor would it for anyone who has endured it and its intensity.

One fight always rolled into another and nothing could be done to stop it. The only way to get through it was to find the little cracks in all the bad. The place where the sun could shine and the flowers could grow.

Or in this case, the stars could twinkle.

"This is already too high for me." Wrecker stated loudly hauling himself up the side of the Marauder.

Crosshair, who was currently under Wreck scoffed to himself before clambering up the side like it was nothing. "You never seem to have that problem when we're in the air." He quipped.

"Well I'm inside then." He whined finally being assisted by Hunter who had the small hands of Omega making sure he didn't fall.

You could only laugh at the scene, leaning back on Echo you could feel him laugh too.

"Who do you think's falling off first?" You ask with a smile that was masked by the moonlight.

"The real question is," Echo leaned forward, surprised a little bit that the top of the marauders could fit 5 fully grown clones plus omega and the Jedi padawan. "Who's going to be pushed off first."

You looked back towards him and in an instant you spoke the same word together. "Tech."

Speaking of the devil, Tech's voice rang out as you looked over to where he had an arm pointing something out beyond the horizon.

"-and if you look there you'll be able to see Endor"

Omega's eyes lit up brighter than they have been in the past few days, nothing seemed to be going right for that bad batch no matter how much they tried.

"Have you guys been there?" Omegas eyes scanned the rest of her family that sat gazing with her. The sky on this backwater planet was surprisingly clear, clearer than you thought it would be.

"Eh once or twice." Hunter shrugged it off with a smile as all that Omega could do was gawk up at her big brother.

"Thats an understatement." Crosshair added quietly from beside you. With a nudge to your shoulder he added. "That meat-head over there blew up more than half the forest and got us kicked out. For life."

"Hey!" Wrecker let go of his strong grip of the Marauder with one hand to wave it at the sniper.

Omega giggled giving you a glance as you could help but laugh at the exchange. "Have you?"

You could only smile at the found memories the question brought you. Landing with your Master on a planet you've never even heard of at that time. The trees the towered over you and the abundant shades of green that you didn't even know existed. The faint sound of your master laughing as you stared up from the base of the tall trees fathomed by the hight.

"Yeah I went once I think during the Clone Wars. It was beautiful there." You spoke, the smiles spread from Omegas face to Hunters as he watched you retell the fond memories.

"Well I also did kinda crash into a tree there but other than that the rest was beautiful." Echo hide his laugh behind you as you told the more embarrassing part of the trip.

"I think I did hear about that one." The ex arc trooper spoke out. You shoved him back slightly as your gaze returned to the stars above.

"Now if you all turn your gazes eastward you can spot the Orion constellation which should also mean the Canis Major is pretty close." Tech pointed upward now, his own eyes locked tightly on the stars.

"That one has the brightest star in the whole galaxy right?" Omega filled in, whether Tech wanted to continue himself or not he could only beam down at the girl, who clearly heard this from him before.'

You smiled also recounting when Tech probably told the group for the first time.

The bounty hunters came from nowhere that day, Omega gripped on the back of Echo's armor plate  with tears streaking down her face clearly scared.

Tech stood above you the, a data pad scanned over you as Hunter tried to apply some pressure to a wound you sustained on your side. Wrecker and Cross stood around the group, the sniper's gaze fixed on the darken horizon beyond.

Panicked breath sounded out and flown into the barren night, as much as you didn't want to scare Omega more you really could help it. You were scared yourself.

"Do you see that over there." Tech took your free arm in his hand and pointed up to the looming sky with it. "That really bright star?"

You were pulled back from your thoughts with the slightest nudge from Crosshair who spared you a glance, nobody else seemed to notice his movements

"I want to go to all of those planets one day." The words were light from Omega, a smile still evident in her voice.

"You'll definitely need to learn to fly then." You added shooting a look at Tech who finally spared a glance at someone else and was immersed in taking pictures of the different planets and constellations.

"If you can find another ship." Tech said mater-o-factly with a finger in the air.

"Aweeee Tech." Omega did the only thing she could think of, huge tooka eyes found Tech and with the pout of her bottom lip you could almost see the moment Tech cracked.

"More contemplation will be needed for that"

Though Omega wasn't disappointed for long as Crosshair whispered to her. "That's practically a yes."

Hunter laughed now shoving Crosshair back into a lying down position. He noted that his brother looked quite different without his armor, but it was a sight he could get used to.

Opening his mouth Tech was about to defend himself before a snore racked through the air. 

"Put someone else to sleep too Techy." Crosshair jabbed a finger at wrecker who still seemed to gripped the ship tightly.

You couldn't blame him though, and is wasn't just because of Tech talking, but you did insist the stars and planets were best to see in the late night. A yawn stifled through you, Echo wasn't the warmest person but the arms that wrapped around you from the clone seemed to do it.

"It's not even that late." Omega protested but her heavy eyelids seemed to contradict her own words.

"No no, we all can't fall asleep up here or it's going to be a pain getting down." Omega curled up into Hunters chest as he spoke. He slowly started to get up.

"One of us should get Wreck." Your own eyelids battled against you as you fought to sit up.

"On it." Crosshair was the last person who you thought would offer but as his leg extended you watched Wrecker rolled over the side.

His startled yell was masked by the thud of him hitting the soft grass below. 

"See it wasn't even that far." The skipper shrugged pushing himself over the edge and landing gracefully with even using the side to get down.

You chuckled as you rolled your eyes at the brothers were up to their old antics.

The chill air was a good contrast to the heated days that came before, so much fighting it seemed that it would never end.

Moments like these would always be cherished, and surprisingly Tech wasn't the one to get pushed off the Marauder.

_____________________________________

Taglist:

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

[everydayyoulovemeless]

New Vegas companions (+ulysses)with a teen Courier? Like how they treat the teen and such

FNV Companions (+Ulysses) With A Teen!Courier

➼ Word Count » 1.3k ➼ Warnings » None ➼ Genre » Platonic

Boone's not entirely keen on the idea of traveling with someone so young. He feels that you shouldn't be out here at all and would tell you to go home. Of course, you don't remember your home, and once you tell him as much he feels obligated to (reluctantly) take you in. For a while, it'll be you, him, and Manny hanging around in Novac, with the two of them taking turns teaching you how to snipe effectively. After a few weeks, you need to continue your path to find Benny, and Boone agrees to go with you, if nothing else, then to protect you from the horrors of the outside world. He's still set on the idea that you're way too young to be out doing things like this, but if it's something you have to do then he'd rather it be him that goes along with you than anyone who might be a bad influence on you, especially considering you've lost all you're memories. He's a reluctant father figure, who'll stop at nothing to ensure you don't fall into the hands of the Legion, or worse, die.

Arcade isn't sure why anyone who forgot how to gamble would want to travel all the way out to Vegas, let alone Freeside. You didn't even have enough money to bypass the guards to get into the Strip when you entered the Old Mormon Fort for the first time, so whatever plan you had before traveling here is lost on him. He only begins talking to you out of pity and confusion, wanting to learn more about your motivations for making such a long hike for a payout that would surely never come. His pity for you only grows, and he'll quickly agree to come along with you wherever you plan on going next. You don't seem to remember anything at all so he'll do his best to reeducate you on the basics. Medicine, survival, reading, he'll cover them all in due time. He truly does feel guilty that you, some kid from who knows where, got caught up in such a large mess of things, and hopes that by staying with you he can make up for the acts this world has committed against you. He sees a bit of himself in you: a lost kid with no more home or family to turn to, no one to confide in, and he hopes to one day take on that familial role for you.

Raul can't help but feel a little bit embarrassed that he had to be saved by a kid with brain damage, but either way, he's happy to be able to leave Black Mountain. He'll follow you out of a mixture of gratitude and curiosity as you remind him a lot of himself back when he still lived in Mexico City. That being said, he is just the tiniest bit overprotective over you. He'd hate it if you ended up with the same fate as his family and would stop at nothing to ensure he never has to go through something like that again. The longer you travel together, the more he feels like he's found a younger sibling to watch over again. He'll tease you and generally be his sarcastic self, but he's definitely a lot softer on you than he would if you'd been an adult. He almost feels as if it's his responsibility to help raise you and keep you alive and healthy, and that's exactly what he ends up doing.

Lily would consider it to be a downright sin for her to just let you wander around on your own! So, whether you agree to it or not, she'll become your full-time grandma throughout the rest of your travels. She's just as doting to you as she would be to any of her other grandchildren and always makes a point to check in on your health and overall well-being. Grandma couldn't have her little pumpkin sad or starving now, could she? That being said, she does her best to fit in the occasional home cooking she's so famous for back in Jacobstown. Not much really changes with Lily. She's still the sweet, old grandma who adopts you regardless of everything, the only real difference being that she's more stubborn with coming along with you. Kids shouldn't be out and about without any chaperon, after all!

Cass doesn't really have much of an opinion on it. You're a kid, so what? Everyone around you was a kid at some point. She does, however, have a small soft spot for teens who aren't afraid of what the waste has to offer, and you've had to make it all the way out to the Mojave Outpost from somewhere, haven't you? She'll pat the barstool beside her, gesturing for you to come and sit down before (secretly) sliding you a glass of whiskey that the two of you share. She wants you to start from the beginning: what are you doing here? And where are your parents? She grows to respect you quite quickly and finds herself feeling some kind of connection with you. Maybe it's because you're a lot rowdier than most others your age, maybe it's 'cause of how unbothered you appear, or maybe it's the determined way you carry yourself? Either way, she's taking her place beside you to get revenge on whoever was fucked up enough to try and kill a kid.

Veronica gets a bit excited when she sees a teen approaching her at the 188 Trading Post. She thinks you're the cutest thing and would love to come along! She's constantly thinking up outfits she thinks you'd look great in, just little accessories here and there to really spice up the 'vengeful vibe' you seem to be going for. She's like the sister you never had, or at least never remembered having, and she takes that role very seriously. You need dating advice? She's your girl to go to. Want to be a better fighter? Allow her, you're amazing new best friend, to offer you some pointers. You want a group to back you up? She'll bother the Brotherhood for as long as she needs before you're accepted into their bunker. Honestly, she couldn't have asked for a better person to come along and break her out of her boredom. The two of you will cause problems like no other, but that only means you both know how to have fun and make the most of your situations.

Ulysses holds a lot less resentment toward you as he believes you're naivety was abused by the NCR. That being said, when you come wandering into the Divide, he definitely puts it in your head that the NCR isn't any good and that you're a victim to this world as much as he, and the rest of the Divide, were. He'll try to brainwash you into viewing the world the same way he does: a cold and heartless mess. He takes you under his wing in a sense, raising you to be a strong and determined warrior against both the NCR and the Legion. He's invested so much energy and thought into you that he feels it'd almost be a waste if he doesn't. If you decide you're not going to follow his path and carve your own, he wouldn't have any qualms about fighting you the same way he would had you been an adult, he'd just feel it'd be a misuse in potential. He'd be a mentor figure to you, a dangerous and smart one, but a teacher nonetheless. There's no room for compromise, and he'll turn you both into a two-man army to ruin the two flags that run rampant throughout the Mojave.

[peony-always]

For the main man's birthday, (and after reading so many great stories from others celebrating him!!), I thought I would give it a little go in honor of my husband

a snippet in which Bkg is working on his birthday :P (1.4k)

25. Twenty-five years of life, twenty-five Happy Birthday bro!!!! texts from Eiji since 6 a.m., and about 25 seconds left until Bakugou lost his composure and damaged something that would be a pain in the ass to apologize for and replace.

It wasn't that he minded working on his birthday, he really didn't. He had worked on his birthday for the last three years, so it wasn't that.

It wasn't that he minded all of Eiji's obnoxious texts, forcing him to acknowledge the day his hag mother had brought him into the world.

It wasn't even that his dumbass friends had suckered him into going out for dinner and drinks after his shift, because, even after all his blustering about, deep down he was pleased that he still had friends who would do things for him, go out of their way.

No, it was none of those things that had the 2nd Street flower shop in danger of having its windows blasted out and flowers burnt to a crisp.

It was you.

For the past few months, you had been terrorizing the Musutafu police force and Pro Heroes alike. A vigilante quirk user who was somehow getting to crime scenes before the police or heroes were even notified of them, leaving criminals tied up and subdued before fleeing the scene.

You were quick, none of the heroes dispatched could catch you. Bakugou had tried multiple times, and each time made him more eager to fight you again than the last. Since he had encountered you the most, he had been the one tasked with providing your description to the other heroes and police who patrolled downtown Musutafu.

He had described your white and gold hooded catsuit, utility boots, smug smile, and gold mask as you glanced back to taunt him, only

He wanted desperately to be the one to unmask you, to beat you at your little game of trying to one-up his colleagues. So, he had been keeping track of sightings of you, playing cat-and-mouse, you tempting him to come out and play just as well as you eluded him.

He had felt his lip curl up into a feral grin half an hour earlier when he had hear that you had been sighted over the police scanner in his office. Someone had seen you on 4th Street, and as soon as he heard that, Katsuki was off. 4th Street was minutes from his agency, and he cut the time in half by propelling himself through the sky, keen eyes watching for any sign of the suit he had committed to memory.

Then, he spotted you. Running down 2nd Street, keeping close to the alleyways and storefronts.

He sent himself downward in a flash, landing a couple feet behind you, the impact from his landing causing you to stumble and look back.

It was then that he caught a glimpse of your eyes, wide and sparkling in the afternoon light. They reminded him of a bunny. You looked a little afraid, and he felt his snarl grow into a grin, chasing after you. He had always taken pleasure in being a predator, hunting down his prey with ease.

The set of your shoulders changes as you regain your composure, calling over your shoulder to him," Working on your birthday, Dynamite? I'm flattered that I'm that important to you."

Bakugou nearly rolls his eyes at your taunting,"A big bad hero comes chasin' after ya and ya get scared, ya start runnin'? What happened to all that bravado you had for the police, ha?"

You said nothing, spinning on your heel to face him, nearly causing him to careen into you.

You lithely dodge out of his way, your knees bent, poised to run again as you speak, "I'm not afraid of you or any other pros. All you've done so far is let me down with your pathetic attempts to find me and have me brought in for doing a better job at protecting people than you."

Bakugou snarls at your words, lunging at you with his hand poised to strike, "You don't get to say shit about pros, we ain't the ones hidin' and creepin' around."

You laugh, dodging him again. You can tell he's starting to get frustrated that you're so hard to nab.

He's still enjoying himself though, examining your body as he sizes you up again, squaring off to face you once more. You're built very pretty. You look both strong and delicate, soft and hard. He can't help but let his gaze linger on your lips as his eyes make their way to your face. He notices that they look plush and supple as you speak again, "Why won't you people just leave me alone? I'm not doing anything wrong aside from not adhering to the policies of your Hero Commission. I don't hurt anyone, I capture villains, I cause thousands less than you do in property damage..."

The Bakugou remembers why he's there, to capture you and put an end to your vigilanteism. Feining anger beyond what he really feels, he goes for an obvious lunge before switching up at the last moment to sweep your legs.

It catches you off-guard, sending you onto your back on the cool concrete of the sidewalk. You quickly grab his ankle, pulling him down so he can't pin you, but he lands on top of you anyway.

You freeze, his face inches from yours, his breath warm on your cheek. His body is pressed right to yours and you can feel every hard plane of him. Your eyes lock for a moment, and in another life you think you could reach out and stroke his cheek, thread your hand through his hair, get lost in his garnet eyes.

Your breath hitches as you remember that you aren't in another life, you're in real life. You hitch your leg around his, flipping him onto his back. He still looks a bit dazed by your proximity, and you take your chance, hopping up as he moves to grab you again, but you're already out of his reach, turning away to take off, but not before you grin, saluting him and letting out a quick, "Happy birthday, Dynadick." and tossing down a smoke bomb, disappearing into the black cloud that emits from it.

He growls, moving in your direction, but he can't find you in the smoke, and once it clears, you're nowhere to be seen.

Frustrated and a little confused, he walks back to his agency, opting to take the extra few minutes to go over the fight in his head, trying to figure out what it was about you that had bewitched him so thoroughly when you took him down. Was it your quirk, unknown to the Hero Commission other than that you had one? Or was it your eyes, the life-filled sparkle of them as they searched his own?

It didn't matter, in the end. All that mattered was that he caught you, and brought you to justice soon.

He spends the rest of the day at the agency, turning off his police scanner and busying himself with paperwork until he gets the inevitable text from Eiji asking him to head over to the restaurant they were having dinner at.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair as he heads to the underground parking deck. He moves to open his car door, pausing and immediately going on alert when he sees the bright orange sticky note stuck to the handle of the driver's side door.

He pulls it off, spinning around to check the parking garage. When he sees no one, he turns back around and glances down at the note, which reads, 'Happy Birthday, Dynadick.'

He yanks open the door, expecting something dangerous to come flying out at him, but nothing does. Instead, as he peers into the car, he notices a smell that wouldn't emanate from his car normally, and as he glances down, he sees the source.

A single orange cupcake, complete with the stupid cartoonish cupcake toppers his publicist had bullied him into licensing to local bakeries.

You had even had the foresight to wrap it into a napkin, somehow knowing what a neat freak he was.

He gingerly set the cupcake into one of his cupholders and got in, a little more eager to encounter you again.

ahhhh I had no idea how to end this but I hope it was okay!!

[huckleberrykai]

°˖✧ huckleberrykai's masterlist ✧˖°

last updated: 22.10.2023 requests + suggestions: open! pls give me some i beg

tomorrow x together ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

ot5 headcannons + mini fics:

➵ crush crush crush ~ [what are they like when they have a crush on you?]

➵ our song ~ [mini scenarios based on taylor swift lyrics!]

➵ let's dance the night away ~ [prom with our fav boys!]

➵ call me baby ~ [nicknames you give them!]

➵ there's food at home ~ [txt as dads!]

➵ why's it spicy? ~ [txt vs your plumping lip gloss]

➵ squish ~ [txt reacting to their chubby gf in a tight outfit]

choi yeonjun:

➵ lost ~ [when yeonjun finds a lost child in the park while trying to clear his head, he goes on a quest to find her mom.]

➵ found ~ [after that day in the park, yeonjun decides he wants to keep you both around for a long time. - part 2 to lost!]

➵ i did something bad ~ [if you're on opposite sides, then why does it feel so good to be with him? - mafia au]

➵ dance with me ~ [trying to confess to your dance class partner on valentines day is more overwhelming than you originally thought.]

➵ are you still watching? ~ [after a long tour away from his baby, yeonjun doesn't wanna pay attention to the netflix show you were watching. - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

➵ picturesque ~ [you go on a cute date with your boyfriend, who just so happened to bring his new camera.]

➵ never been kissed ~ [your new boyfriend just wants some smooches, but you aren't sure how to tell him you've never been kissed.]

➵ comfy cozy ~ [yeonjun gets a little handsy when you surprise him with an early autumn cozy getaway for his birthday. - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

choi soobin:

➵ sacrifice ~ [you spill a drink on a very pretty man in a club ~ inspired by sacrifice by bebe rexha]

➵ superstar ~ [when soobin gets the opportunity to work with you, he can't help but feel nervous.]

➵ birthday bunny ~ [just two tired horny lovers messily helping each other out. - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

➵ fight for you ~ [on your 21st birthday coronation day, you finally get to meet the knight you've been admiring for so long.]

choi beomgyu:

➵ not so secret ~ [secretly dating someone in a house of six people isn't easy - especially when you wander out of his bedroom wearing nothing but his shirt.]

➵ call it what you want ~ [when you and beomgyu start dating, you aren't sure how to tell your brother soobin.]

➵ i wouldn't ask you to take care of me ~ [after returning from your honeymoon, you already have to put your vows to the test.]

kang taehyun:

➵ tae-tok [when your boyfriend is always touring or busy, you settle for the next best thing. tiktok boyfriend edits that his fans make.]

➵ the virtue's in the verse ~ [you become a secret admirer to the boy who never responds to your flirts]

➵ missing you ~ [taehyun wanted to surprise you by coming home early, but it turns out he got home just in time. - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

huening kai:

➵ here's to teenage memories ~ [you meet a cute boy on vacation ~ inspired by kiss me kiss me by 5SOS <3]

➵ i thought we were in love already? ~ [kai tries to think of ways to get you to like him, unbeknownst to him you've been in love with him the whole time.]

➵ you smell nice ~ [kai notices his hoodies going missing, and it isn't until he visits your apartment to stay for the weekend that he realises where they all went.]

➵ toaster strudel ~ [kai wants to frost his favourite pastry before he eats it <3 - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

➵ pizza lover ~ [sick of playing cat and dog, kai gives you a little push to cross the barrier of best friends to more <3]

➵ can't keep my hands to myself ~ [your first time with your sweet boyfriend who can't help but think about your pretty hands - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

➵ cat and dog ~ [despite being so different, your friends think your black cat and golden retriever dynamic with your boyfriend is adorable.]

➵ memories ~ [of course being best friends with your boyfriend's sister means premium access to his childhood videos.]

➵ video games ~ [gamer bf!kai x sanrio gf!reader ~ headcanons and texts]

➵ all mine ~ [kai never considered himself the jealous type. not until he met you.]

➵ laundry basket ~ [when kai finds his sweet precious girl with his dirty shirt in her face and her hand down her pants he has to teach her a lesson. - SMUT 18+ ONLY !]

[kokomos]

𝗠𝗬 𝗙𝗨𝗡𝗡𝗬 𝗩𝗔𝗟𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗡𝗘

au! no apocalypse abby anderson relationship headcanons

tags: no outbreak, college student abby, fluff

+ The beginning of Abby's life started out like one from the movies. For a while, life for the Andersons was perfect, until her mother tragically passed away. It was a shock to the whole family, but Abby barely remembered the woman by the time she had turned four and those few memories were now lost for good.

+ Since Jerry raised her by himself, practically since birth, Abby evidently lacked a mother figure. There were the other kids' moms but not one she could call her own. The fact that she had no mother hadn't bothered her much before, actually she rarely ever thought about that part of her life. Until middle school when she hit puberty and Jerry realized that no amount of effort he put in could match that of a woman, someone who knew exactly what Abby was going through. Consequently, Marlene started coming around more to help out; Jerry regarded her as his closest friend and believed she would be a good role model for his daughter.

+ Abby went on to pursue medicine, more specifically surgery but she's still wondering which branch. It's leaning towards neurological surgery, the same as her father.

+ Aside from her medical studies, she plays for the college's lacrosse team. Needless to say, she's the best on the team. Teammates love her, coaches, student fans... Hell even the other team can't help but practically swoon over her. She's just so naturally charismatic and considerate, it doesn't matter if she's on the field. You can catch her checking up on the other players to ask how they're feeling or to give them borderline unwarranted praise. It's just a game at the end of the day, and although she wants to win, enjoying the sport with everyone is more important.

+ You and Abby literally run into each other when meeting for the first time. She's rushing to class because for the one time ever she's late; when suddenly she turns a corner and bumps right into you. For some reason, she disregards all previous efforts in favor of asking you out.

+ She lives at home with her dad, opting to commute rather than dorm. Given that it's been just the two of them for so long, leaving Jerry behind would fill her with too much guilt. Abby doesn't care about living away from campus, especially since Jerry respects her and every part of her life, even the parts he may disapprove of.

+ Don't let Jerry catch you with Abby when she's skipping class. Once or twice is a lapse in judgement, but any more is a pattern and it'll make him think you're a bad influence. He'll scold her in front of you, no shame.

+ Jerry secretly enjoys your presence in the house, noticing how it seems more full of life when you're over. Try to study with Abby, medical terminology is the easiest to help with being that it requires nothing but a term and definition to teach. A couple flashcards later and Jerry will practically give you his blessing.

+ Speaking of, she can't wait to get married. It's something she's dreamed of since she was a little girl; to be so in love with someone that you decide you'll be together for the rest of your joint lives... It was a cute belief until she learned about divorce. Still, she remains overly optimistic in terms of love, believing that whoever she's meant to be with will find her.

+ And you, you really make her happy. She's always been a joyful individual but you've taken that tendency to new extremes.

+ Abby uses old-fashioned dating moves like the ones she's observed from all the classics her dad made her watch in order to 'educate' her. Out of the blue, she'll show up on your doorstep with flowers and chocolate; it's a timeless gift. Takes you on surprise dates when you let her. One time she took it too far and surprised you with dinner to some high-end restaurant you've been wanting to try. Thoughtful idea with an awful execution since you didn't dress for the occasion at all. She didn't even notice until you pointed it out, she was too busy looking at your pretty face to care about anything else.

+ Does not let you pay for stuff! Jerry gave her a card under his name when she turned 18 because he wanted Abby to have total focus on her education and extracurriculars (alongside an active social life). He trusts her completely and knows she's not the type to abuse his kindness by making useless and/or expensive purchases.

+ Dates with you are a necessity, though; it's a weekly thing the two of you committed to within the first month of getting together. Abby thinks it's crucial to set aside one night to eat together face-to-face, she finds the whole ordeal intimate and domestic in an unexpected way.

+ It's probably a month or two in the relationship that she asks if you want to spend the night. In the morning she's almost begging you to sleep over again that night, telling you she'll order in your favorite food and the two of you can watch a movie before a fuck cuddle sesh.

+ The smartest gf ever, she likes keeping you informed on the subjects she's learning about in class. It actually helps increase some of your medical knowledge just by being around her, she's a natural teacher after all.

+ She tries to see you as much as she can around her busy schedule. If she can't see you that day she calls and texts when she's got a second to be on her phone; And she always makes up for lost time. After a quick reunion, she'll lock the two of you in her room for hours, letting you know exactly just how much she missed you.

+ Abby has a bright future ahead of her in this world, one she plans on sharing with you.

— ♡☆

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - July 7 - Week 27

Sorry this is so late in the day, friends! I spent most of the week visiting my ailing grandfather--we know he’s got very little time left, so grabbing a chance to get to see him was really great, but it’s got all my days off and I just realized it’s Sunday! So you get six fic today as a bonus for being so late in the day. Remember to leave some comment/kudos for the authors who’s stories you enjoy! 

*

how light carries on endlessly by meidui

“I'm fine. I always heal up fine.”

“Do you?” Tony asks, two little words flaying Steve open. Steve looks up at him, and against the dusky light, Tony Stark strangely looks nothing like his father.

-

Between a near-drowning in the Hudson River, a panic attack in the middle of a mission, and a kidnapping, Steve learns to be happy.

my thoughts: ok. So. Listen. If you read one fic off the list this month, make it this one. The care in how Steve’s mental health is handled in this fic, both by meidui and Tony, is just very very special to me. I loved the twists on canon, and the slow growth of their relationship and just how broken Steve is allowed to be, because he never gets that in the MCU and dammit, he lost his whole world he should be given time to grieve and heal. ANYWAY. It’s excellent. Go read it. 

you've really missed a trick when it comes to love by meidui 

Steve thinks he’s happier than he’s ever been, or at least he should be. This is the closest he’s ever come to having everybody he loves in one place and the Compound doesn’t echo with emptiness anymore, and he’s seen more of Tony in the past few months than he has in the last seven years.

He’s still getting used to being with Tony again, this softer, older version of him, and how difficult that makes keeping his hands to himself because all he wants to do is touch him.

my thoughts: i’m a huge sucker for the way that @meidui portrays Steve and how soft she is with him, and this was just--incredibly well done. 

good enough for you by tinystark616

Steve is having self-esteem issues because he feels like he isn't good in bed. Tony finds out and decides to do something about it.

my thoughts: Steve being so worried and Tony being so incredibly satisfied with their sex is just. So good. 

Through the Dark Tide of Memory by scifigrl47

As the Human/Kaiju war drags on, with no end in sight, the occupants of the Malibu Shatterdome have come to be known, worldwide, as the Avengers. No matter how many Jaegers fall, how many battles are lost around the Pacific rim, the Avengers will always come to the rescue.

Until, of course, there's no one left...

my thoughts: Pacific Rim is my not so secret guilty pleasure, and this fusion is just so well done, I love it, especially that @scifigrl47 delves into not just the pilots, but the people who make the jagers work, and why they are so important. Utterly perfect. 

Heavy is the Head that wears the Crown by BladeoftheNebula

“Just remember, and this is essential, you call the King ‘Your Majesty’ during the first introduction and afterwards it’s ‘sir’. Queen Maria is likewise ‘Your Majesty’ and thereafter ‘ma’am’, and Prince Anthony is ‘your royal highness, the Prince of Wales’, and ‘sir’ thereafter.”

Steve was never going to remember all this. Thank god he was never going to meet any of them.

When Steve Rogers moved to London he was expecting the bad overpriced flat and the metric system.

What he never could've expected was that the heir to the throne would fall for a skinny asthmatic from Brooklyn.

my thoughts: i am picky about pre-serum steve fics, but this series does it so well, plus the royal Tony aspect is just--perfection. 

The Song Without Words by Lelantus

Everyone knew what happened when soulmates touched each other. Whether it was hands clasping together, fingers brushing across a jaw, or lips meeting in a kiss - it didn’t matter. Any skin-to-skin contact and chests started glowing with soft, white-blue light. Soul-light, it was called.

Tony woke up in a cave in Afghanistan with a hole in his chest and wires coming out of it and felt his blood run cold. He knew instinctively what it meant. He’d lost his ability to produce a soul-light. And so no matter how much he yearned for it in the secret, hidden corners of his heart, Tony would never find his soulmate.

my thoughts: i’m such a sucker for soulmates and the way that they chose each other and loved each other despite Tony’s inability to have a soulmate is everything to me. 

[wh0refornikolailantsov]

Prompt: I know my pain is such an imposition.

Song: You're Losing Me - Taylor Swift

For Kaz x Reader??

English is currently not my first language, incoherent screaming is.

Walk Away, Take My Heart With You - Kaz Brekker

Content Warnings: Angst. Heartbreak. Unhealthy Relationship And Communication Habits. Canon Complaint Violence And Threat. Not Beta/Proof Read.

Do I throw out everything we built or keep it? I'm getting tired even for a phoenix Always risin' from the ashes Mendin' all her gashes You might just have dealt the final blow

"Kaz are you even going to look at me?" You ask. Kaz doesn't, he keeps his eyes to the ground, walking in that consistent rhythm despite the pain it must cause him. That repeated tap of the cane on the cobblestones, a sound you hear in the back of your mind like a melody, you know you'll hear it even still when it becomes nothing more than a memory.

Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me

"Kaz Brekker, stop right now," you say, stilting your own movements. You're walking the length of the harbour, and you're done chasing after him. You've done nothing wrong, not that you ever really have to get him riled up at you. He'd need to communicate with you why he is mad but he never seems capable of that.

Stop, you're losin' me I can't find a pulse

"I swear to the Saints Brekker if you don't stop and turn around now it is the last chance you'll get to do so," you snap, and your voice carries on the wind. He hears you, clearer than a gunshot and his walking stills, but he does not turn around. You don't move to meet him, you're done meeting him at a distance. There are so many things when it comes to Kaz that do not hurt you, things that you can tuck away and love him not in spite of but as well as. The fact he can never touch you, it leaves space for longing, for wishing, but it would never have you step away from him. His history, his demons, they don't scare you, and you know they should. You can love him, knowing all the reasons you've been told you shouldn't.

But this, this cold, unrelenting anger, this shutting you out and down and cutting you off without warning, without giving you the smallest clue as to what you've done, if you've even done anything at all. This is what is killing you.

There was a time when you thought there wasn't a thing in the world you wouldn't do for The Bastard Of The Barrel, but you've finally found your line, your limit, and you can practically hear Nina's voice in the back of your head telling you "it's about time."

"You do not give me orders," Kaz says and every other sound across the harbour is silenced. You are alone, painfully alone in the darkness, nothing around you and Kaz but the cannel and all the broken promises of hope between you. His words remind make something snap within you, and you realise once again, just how alone you truly are.

My heart won't start anymore For you 'Cause you're losin' me

"You know, Brekker," you say, staring at his siloutte in the dark, "one day I will have been gone long enough, I will have put enough distance between us, that I will forget your name, I will forget your face, I will forget each moment, each day, every single second spent with you. You won't even be a memory."

You don't mean it, you don't have the strength inside you to mean it, but you know if you don't walk away now, you're never going to, and you have given all the chances your heart can take on a man who doesn't want to love you, even if he does.

"I long for that day," Kaz says in return before continuing his path into the darkness. You should have expected nothing less. You should have expected worse. Kaz is filled to the brim with harsh words and cruel intentions. You've seen first hand everything he is capable of, you know exactly what he could do and why he would. But you had thought, you had let yourself believe that there was more between you than could be torn down with one bad mood and some words. But you're left in the harbour tying to pull yourself up from the stones like he has left you to bleed out on them.

And the air is thick with loss and indecision I know my pain is such an imposition

"I know Kaz can be... Kaz," Jesper is saying hovering around you throwing your stuff into a bag, "but you can't be leaving."

"I've been meaning to leave a long time now Jesper," you remind him.

"I thought you changed your mind," he says. You had. You had changed your mind, you had decided the barrel was your home, that what you had found here would be worth staying, that the world couldn't offer you what you have found at the bottom of the barrel. But you can't stay with your heart being target practice every time you pass a corner and expect to see him there.

Now, you're runnin' down the hallway And you know what they all say You don't know what you got until it's gone

"I can't stay," you tell Jesper, turning to face him. You try not to linger on how sad those eyes look, usually so filled with optimism. Jesper is scrambling to look for the right words but he comes up short.

"Look, I know none of us are great at... talking with each other," Jesper says, "but Kaz... I cannot imagine how he is going to be if you leave."

"It's not my responsibility to make him into someone who can talk to me Jesper," you say, "it's not my responsibility to fix him." You sigh, your bad feeling so heavy with the added weight of your pain. "I didn't want to fix him, I just... I wanted to believe that he loved me, but he can't be happy in the knowledge he does. It makes him angry, his feelings for me feel like a sickness to him, and I cannot stand around, loving him when him loving me makes him hate himself."

Jesper knows there is nothing to be said to that, he remembers the time he nearly brought down the Jam Tart House to nothing more than ashes when the Razergulls felt it a good idea to try and make a move on you as an act of violence against The Dregs, The Crows more specifically, and Kaz the most. Kaz had been all Dirtyhands that night, eyes like a shark smelling blood in the water, and violence that had the blood painted red. But when you'd arrived back at the slat, split lip and rope burned wrists you'd tried to thank him, but he had rebuffed you. Jesper could not understand the scowl on his face as Kaz had looked at you, for someone who had been willing to burn everything to the ground before he looked so inconvenienced by your presence. "Did you really think I’d be happy to see you?" was all Kaz had to say to you.

"I've forgiven him too many times already," you say, more to yourself than Jesper, "but there are only so many times someone can trespass against you before you realise that they don't see you as someone they need consider in their actions. I love Kaz, against every sensible fibre in my being, but I cannot love myself and love him at the same time, not with how he loves me now."

"I am going to miss you," Jesper says, leaning back on his heels.

"Jesper, I am going to miss you the most," you say, squeezing his arm, "don't tell the others."

Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me Stop, you're losin' me

Kaz doesn't bother to look up as Jesper pushes his way into his office unannounced, having a very good idea what the intrusion is about not really wanting to engage in the conversation at all, especially with Jesper.

"You want them to leave," Jesper says.

"They will do whatever they want to do Jesper," Kaz says, "you should know that by now."

"You are pushing them away," Jesper says adamantly. "And that is... Boss I am going to speak out of turn."

"When don't you?" Kaz asks, finally bothering to look at him as he leans back in his chair.

"We are all broken Kaz,-,"

"Jesper do not presume to know anything about how I feel or what I think," Kaz cuts him off.

"Kaz, you can get as mad at me as you want, Saints fire me if you must, but hear me when I say, you do not want to do this."

I can't find a pulse My heart won't start anymore For you

You're back at the harbour, waiting now, waiting for something entirely different than the last thing you waited for on this stretch of stone. Your way out, instead of a reason to stay.

You brain is playing the memory of Kaz's steps that night over and over, the tap tap tap of his cane on the stone. "I've arranged you passage," comes Kaz's voice from behind you. The sound you now realise wasn't entirely in your mind.

"One good deed doesn't erase all the bad ones," you respond, not turning to look at him, scared to see him, scared that if you see him all your composure might fall away.

"I know," Kaz says, and his voice that is usually so steady, so laced with intent, is uncertain on its words.

"Why are you here Kaz?" you ask, keeping your eyes on the water.

"To make sure you leave," he says, wrapping his hand over the crow head of his cane, the tighter the grip the tighter his throat feels, the more he thinks he could drown in his own bitterness, right here next to the canal, and what an irony that would be.

'Cause you're losin' me 'Cause you're losin' me Stop (stop) 'cause you're losin' me

"I know my pain is such an imposition." You take a shuddering breath. "But I do not regret staying in Ketterdam, I need you to know that."

"Will you regret leaving?" he asks.

"Will you regret not asking me to stay?" you say in return before walking off, as he had that night, not giving you a chance to say anything in return, you pay him the same curtsey.

He stands there, watching you go. Jesper is right, of course he is right, and he knows that, and he doesn't doubt that deep down you know that too. But it isn't what matters. You need to leave, you need to be far away from Ketterdam, from The Barrel, from The Dregs, from him. You need to be somewhere where the world isn't threatening to pull every last piece of good from you at any given opportunity.

And for all his wants and his selfishness, if he has to make you hate him to ensure you leave, that is exactly the price he is willing to pay, even if you take the best parts of him with you as you go.

[random-introverted-blog]

Across Stars and Time [Ascended!Astarion x F!Reader]

Spawn vs Ascended oh my gawd

Edit: Due to incredibly popular demand on AO3 (again) this story has been converted to a full story called His Star - His Queen. It's being cross posted between here and AO3

Read His Star - His Queen on AO3

Read His Star - His Queen on Tumblr

Intended Audience: Mature [Merely a suggestion, like speed limits, right?]

Who be smoochin?: Astarion x F!Reader

The Bit: At long last, Astarion will be free of his master and you will be his most enthusiastic cheerleader as he ends Cazador, once and for all. So you think until you find an Imposter Astarion that waits in the center of the room for you. Cazador tortured and dying at his feet. And your Astarion, to his horror, faces the true cost of his ascension. You.

Warnings/Advisories: ANGST, no happy ending (though it ends on a brighter/hopeful note), major character death (not either Astarion, that would be too easy on both of them), references of past SA, references of suicide, a reference of sucidal ideation, violence, injuries, yandere doing yandere things, obsessive and possessive behavior, your boyfriend is getting the shit kicked out of him, your "husband" who is the same man from another universe is kicking the shit out of himself, "HERE COMES ASCENDANT ASTARION WITH THE STEEL CHAIR FROM THE TOP ROPE", is it time magic or jumping across realities, "SPAWN ASTARION WITH THE SUPLEX"

Words, all the word (count): a whopping 5,390

Writing art and breaking hearts in 3...2...1

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

"Save it for when I'm standing over Cazador's bloody corpse." Astarion had said when he stopped you from kissing him today.

And that was fine, sure, you really wanted to, but you could understand he was not in the head-space to be affectionate with you. It didn't change how he felt, or how you felt, so what did it matter? You could wait your whole life for his kisses and embraces and still die happy, so long as it was a life shared with him. There was nothing you wanted more than Astarion, baggage and all. No matter how unsure and self conscious he was about what he believed he lacked or couldn't give you. You crossed your fingers that it would be enough he would decide against completing the ritual. It would change him, that you knew without a doubt. And you were nervous it wouldn't be a change for the better.

You loved him for him, as much as you were afraid to use those exact words, and you had seen plenty of times what immense power does to people... your heart clenched thinking of that happening to him.

Nights nuzzled into his chest, legs tangled together, fingers in your hair. The safest and warmest you've ever felt was being in his cold arms. These were some of your best memories in the few you still held from your past life. And you made sure he knew he didn't even need to do any of that, the cuddles and kisses, to have your love. It was unconditional. It always would be.

You couldn't wait to stand with him as he finally ended this chapter of his life and turned the page, and his eyes toward a brighter future. Hopefully, if he wished it... it would include you.

But something was wrong. There wasn't a single servant to be seen in the whole place. You found the signet ring left on the floor in front of the sealed door and Astarion chalked it all up to Cazador paving the way for his "homecoming party". It didn't sit right with you, and you had tried to express as much to him but it just made him snap at you. After all, he spent two hundred years as a slave to the vampire lord. Who were you to question what he did and didn't know?

After that, you had kept your mouth shut. It hurt, but you had already forgiven his bad mood. You understood he was going through a lot, anxiety eating him from the inside out. So you kept your thoughts to yourself and did your best to keep your perceptive eyes peeled for any clues. Your gut instinct was right. When you found the elevator to the crypt, you had silently hoped it would ease your own troubled thoughts, your paranoia, but truth be told; it made it worse.

You looked among your companions to gauge if they perhaps felt the same. As rare as it was to see them all together on a mission, Astarion had earned their friendship just as much as you had, and not a one turned down the chance to deliver a long overdue beat down on Cazador Szarr.

But the only thing you registered on their faces was a determination for violence. Glad as you were, you were just as eager, of course, but that did little to soothe your nerves. It wasn't uncertainty, like Astarion's, much as he tried to mask it. No, something felt... changed. Unbalanced. Your tadpole, maybe? No, it was quiet as a babe. Your urges? No, your bhaalspawn blood, despite feeling a mite antsy, was relatively subdued.

As you crossed the crypt on the way toward the two large, ancient doors, a voice called out to Astarion. He stopped, glanced at you and turned slowly toward the cell. Expression impassive but footsteps cautious, until his eyes widened. "Sebastian??" He gasped, taking one step back.

"What are you doing out here?" The spawn asked, clinging to the bars. "You're supposed to be in there!" The man jabbed a finger toward the door.

Drawing your brows together, you glanced at the doors behind you, and you started to drift toward it. Screams caught your ears from within. Muffled, but sharper as you moved closer. A hand on your shoulder, and you found Gale, Halsin and Shadowheart at your back while Astarion was distracted with the spawn. Tempted as you were to stay, he seemed to be really distraught. Something was undeniably wrong now. Why were they so convinced he had already come through here?

Those screams were unlike anything you had ever heard, sounds of terror and agony that sent shivers down your spine. You had heard and seen a lot in your travels, you all had. But nothing quite like the sounds coming from beyond these doors.

Halsin took the lead and pushed the doors open, you close behind, Shadowheart and Gale took the rear behind you.

You were startled when the doors slammed shut behind Shadowheart, and the four of you looked among yourselves, searching for an answer for the other. When all you received were questioning stares, your eyes wandered to the center of the chamber and you descended the long stone staircase. Lining the platform, hovering above red sigils, were Astarion's siblings. Veils of darkness covered their faces, whatever it was doing, the source of their twisted symphony for relief.

Dead center of the platform, a figure in top-grade studded leather armor hunched over someone on their hands and knees. Hands visibly trembling against the floor, drenched in sweat.

As if sensing your presence, the figure tossed something from their right hand, a blade skidding across the floor, their now free hand raised in the air and snapped their long fingers. Instant silence fell over the ritual chamber. "Ah, there you are..." a voice greeted in a low, familiar purr. "I've been waiting..." they continued, slowly straightening to full height, presenting you the equally... hauntingly familiar white curly haired back of their head. "Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you." Looking over their shoulder before at last, turning to face you. "Waiting... to have you."

"What kind of sick magic is this? An identity spell?" Gale questioned, as confused and audibly disturbed as the rest of you. Bewildered at this seemingly perfect copy of Astarion. No... something was off. You just couldn't put your finger on it. It wasn't anything on a physical level, as far as you could tell. He wasn't wearing the same armor, though. Like you noted earlier, this was top grade studded leather armor, dyed a midnight black and dark red. Yours was wearing the set of Spidersilk armor you had pried from the dead drow woman back at the Emerald Grove.

"Cazador, if you think hiding behind his face is going to stop me from peeling yours from your bones, allow me to let you down now." You glared, readying your weapon and assuming your stance. The others followed your lead, as always.

But the Mimic chuckled, a soft, airy sound too like Astarion for it to be a mimic. "He won't be able to answer you, my dear" they chuckled, tone filled with amusement. "He's long swallowed his own tongue." You watched the deep crimson cloak sway behind them as they circled around the trembling man, turning him over their black boot. The man fell onto his back, and you assumed the dark-haired elven man, face swollen, bloody and almost too distorted to be recognized as a face, was all that remained of Cazador.

He gasped and wheezed, and the mimic used their foot to force Cazador's head up to face you, providing you a better look. Sure as they said, there was no tongue... or fangs, either. Only two gaps in the top row of teeth where they should be.

Unceremoniously, they dropped his head to the floor, and you realize the mimic hasn't actually taken their eyes off you since they circled around Cazador. "I am a man of considerable patience, but even I grew bored idling about, waiting for him to bring you to me, my treasure."

"A shapeshifter." You blurted out as the thought crossed your mind. "Really, an imposter of my lover? I'm almost flattered, dear sister" a mocking grin splitting your lips, hand tight around your weapon, magic crackling at your fingertips, waiting to be unleashed should they make a move against you.

The imposter raised their eyebrows before meeting your grin with their own. "No, darling. I'm more Me than that... creature you've been putting up with."

"What in the nine hells are you then?" you bite impatiently, tired of this back and forth. Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. That you couldn't figure it out was wearing on you.

Behind you, the doors burst open, but neither of you looked away from your standoff to see. Footsteps rushing down the stairs, "y/n!" Astarion called after you, coming to an audible skidding stop at the scene before him.

"I'm the man you love, pet." The Imposter responded, as if the rest of your team didn't just rush in, as if the real Astarion wasn't joining your side, daggers drawn. "I'm the man who in another life you denied, using a disintegrate scroll on yourself to reject everything I gave you. The man who has crossed the stars and time itself to return you to his side." They took a step toward you but you held your ground, ignoring every impulse to turn heel and bolt the other way as they partly lifted their hands from their side. "I am High Lord Astarion Ancunín. Vampire Ascendant." Smirking from ear to ear in a way that was undeniably Astarion. From the glance you spare at your Astarion, he seemed just as stunned, confused... worried.

Still, you searched him for it: deception, doubt, a half truth, anything and your heart sunk further, the more you found to only prove his point. To your horror, this was Astarion. Somehow, as he said, crossed the barriers of your realities to be here.

Ascendant... This is what Astarion would become if he completed the ritual.

You searched his eyes, for what you couldn't say for sure, something to reject this, reject him. Something that would wake you from this nightmare. His eyes were cold, dark with malice, lacking any of the warmth you felt when you stared into your Astarion's, they were commanding, all-consuming.

Your body stiffened, rigid. You couldn't look away.

"There..." The Ascendant sighs, almost dreamily, "come here to me, my treasure..." Extending his arms wide, inviting you into them, and you feel every muscle in your body acting on its own.

Panic nearly takes your senses. "No, I can't..." you force the words out before your throat tightens and your tongue stills.

But that's all he needs to hear to understand. Astarion's arm wraps around your waist as your feet move, pulling you into his arms instead. With a mind of its own, your body thrashes and squirms against him as if desperately trying to heed the Ascendants' command, but he doesn't let go. "Easy, darling, I've got you..." He murmurs in your ear, not unlike the nights he's comforted you, tied up and writhing on your bedroll. "I won't let him... I won't..." you detect the softest of tremors in his voice while you struggle to regain control of your limbs.

Behind you, you listen to your friends scrambling to form a protective line between both of you and the Ascendant. "I don't know what damnable creature you are," Wyll says from somewhere in the line, "but I know my friend Astarion, and that's enough reason for me to drive my blade through your putrid heart."

"What you are is an abomination." Halsin speaks right after him, "part of understanding and appreciating the artistry of life is understanding the role death plays in nature's beauty. But frankly... I cannot imagine any reason for your existence." He concludes with a harsh glare at the Ascendant.

Who merely lifts an eyebrow. "How imbecilic." He says impassively, glancing among your six friends. Suddenly his eyes glow and mist red, and with a wave of his hand the very shadows at their backs surge to life.

Halsin's shadow is upon him with a viciousness you've only seen in rabid animals, shredding him to ribbons before he even turns to face the monster.

Lae'zel holds her own well enough before hers takes her to the ground. Though it seems grim, she appears to be regaining the upper hand quickly.

Gale whips around and reaches to grab Wyll and cast Dimension Door, but his own shadow counterspells him and blasts him with a ray of frost so hard it sends him hurtling through the air.

The Ascendant watches the wizard sail past him with a barely suppressed humor to his features. "Oh, dear..." He mutters just loud enough to be heard, "not going quite the way you expected, is it?" He mutters, raising his hand to examine his nails. Only appearing mildly interested in the chaos unfolding in front of him.

Wyll dispatches his shadow, only to watch Karlach overwhelmed by hers, and he shouts in horror. Barely reaching her in time to block the downswing aimed for her chest.

"And how about you druid—Oh, dear..." he gasps, a feigned expression of shock flitting across his face, moving that same hand to his mouth, a wicked smile barely concealed behind his splayed fingers. You shiver at the sadistic delight dancing shamelessly in his eyes while he gawks at the sight of Halsin, savaged and lifeless, face down in a pool of his own blood. "You always had that coming, you dimwitted oaf. The first time too..." He huffs, straightening his posture and holding his head up as he leers down at the body with blatant disdain. "And you know what they say about your own worst enemy...." As he glances among your friends, one by one struggling and fending for themselves.

Astarion tugs at your arm when your body stills against his. "We need to go, now!" he hurries, dragging you behind him.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs before you pull your arm free. "We're just going to leave them?!" you ask incredulously, raising your voice, gesturing and looking behind you.

Shadowheart thoroughly thrashes her dark copy with impressive efficiency, diverting her energy now to the Ascendant. The familiar chant falls from her lips as she begins to cast Turn Undead. Vanishing in a blur of crimson mist, he reappears in front of her, and she successfully gets the spell off a mere second later.

But he stood there, unfazed. Flashing a wicked grin, he confidently takes hold of Shadowhearts' hands, lifting them up and then abruptly wrenching them in opposing directions, sending an uneasy wave through your body. She cries out in agony, and the Ascendant allows her to collapse to her knees before he callously brushes her aside with his boot, treating her as though she were nothing more than a worn-out toy.

Astarion takes your arm again, returning your attention to him and desperate urgency flashes over his features. "You don't understand. I know what he wants, and I won't let him—"

Just as he turns around for the stairs, a flash of red mist. "Tut-tut." The Ascendant scolds, clearly unimpressed, scowling at Astarion as the very shadows of the room gather around his hands.

Reacting faster than your vampire, you swiftly shove yourself between the two Astarions, acting on instinct.

Pain ripples through you unlike anything you've felt before, like a hammer of fire and ice that makes your blood boil and freeze all at once. The blast launches you back into Astarion hard enough to send you hurtling through the air, past Gale casting another spell.

Your body slams into the unforgiving coldness of the stone platform, causing a sharp intake of breath and a loud grunt of pain involuntarily slips past your lips. The force of the impact propels you into a chaotic, disorienting tumble, your cheek scraping the rough texture of the floor as you skid to a halt.

Despite the pain on your face, you dug deep and pushed on your arms, your body trembling slightly as you managed to roll onto your back. Vision hazy and unfocused. What in the sweet hells kind of magic was that?

Where's...?

Straining your eyes, you see Gale rushing toward you before ominous black chains materialized from the floor and curled around his arms and legs, forcefully dragging him to his knees. Instinctively reaching for the wizard but your thoughts and concerns quickly shift elsewhere at the sound of your name. Tilting your head backwards, your heart almost settles at the sight of your pale elf scrambling to his feet toward you, "Astarion!" you call back, mustering your strength again in an attempt to get back on your feet.

And as quickly as you felt some sense of relief at the sight of him, your heart sinks violently at the tendril, the whip of dark magic that coils tightly around his body and flings him backward, away from you. With his rogueish reflexes, he quickly gathers his feet under him and lunges for his attacker. Fiercely, you struggle to your knees, desperate to help him.

The Ascendant effortlessly extends his arm, gathering at his legs, "even vermin must kneel before a god," he sneers, snapping his arm back to his side, sending a grunting, growling Astarion down with it, knees slamming to the ground. A fury to his stride "you were always worthless, sniveling..." raising his boot and pressing it harshly onto your vampire's shoulder, "groveling." Pushing him harshly down onto his hands.

Lightning flies from behind you, a quick glance reveals Gale had managed to get the spell off, and the Ascendant winces at the unexpected attack, stumbling off of Astarion. Who doesn't waste the opportunity and tackles his full weight into him. It doesn't do more than throw the Ascendant somewhat off balance as the two wrestle for the upper hand. "Bluster all you want, but I see what you really are! A lost, empty, miserable creature! Trying to fill a hole in your heart that all the power in the world will never sate!" Astarion snarls with his fangs on full display.

With a shove, the Ascendant puts distance between him and Astarion. His eyes glow red again and he grabs Astarion by the throat, lifting him into the air like a rag-doll. A familiar hand touches your shoulder and you're about to turn and thank Gale when the Ascendant's head snaps in your direction. The chains, which never fully released Gale, tighten around his arms and legs but begin to pull slowly in opposite directions. Then he opens his hand, his palm flat and level with the ground. Darkness swirling from the room and around his fingers like moths to a flame, and he steadily curls them back into his hand as it simmers a soft, red glow.

Blobs of shadow ooze from the floor and take the shape of monsters, soldiers, ghouls... One dozen, then two. Far more than you know your friends and you can fend off on your own. "Wait!" You shout before you can fully think of why you're doing so, rising to your feet at last, despite the way your legs ache and demand you don't.

Eerily, it all comes to a stop. All of it. And though the Ascendant pauses a long while, even he flings Astarion carelessly behind him before he slowly turns to you. "Apologies, my treasure... I got carried away." He says calmly, watching you cautiously circle around him.

You hesitantly look around the room. From Cazador's body, to Halsin's mangled and brutalized and the six spawn still muzzled with dark magic... "why are you doing all this?" is all you can ask in a barely audible whisper.

"You." He answers, so simple yet with such reverence. "For you, for us, I have dominated this city, compelled it to kneel before you, reduced it to little more than your personal footstool for your amusement." His eyes were distant with fond memories, and evidently clueless to the horror in your eyes. "I made you my queen, and I sat you beside me on a throne befitting of one, one that embodied your grace and beauty." You watched his eyes gaze upward, still deep in his recollections.

"The sight of you seated beside me never failed to make my heart swell with pride and fill me with contentment, like a melody playing in my soul." The words tumbling out, as if he'd been holding them in for centuries, bringing a hand to rest flat against the chest of his armor, over his heart.

"Hundreds of servants who kissed the ground you blessed with your every step as you tread the halls of our palace... and still, you rejected me." The Ascendant growls, taking a step toward you that has you quickly reeling backward, away from him. "After everything I taught you, all the delights of obedience, slow as you were to learn them... Countless nights spent coaxing your body to submission to me with nothing but pleasure. And you. Still—"

"No wonder I fucking killed myself." You spat, cutting him off before he could make you vomit... gods, how your stomach churned... "By the hells," you muttered, a look of disgust on your face. "What made you think I'd ever want that? The Astarion I know, my Astarion, would never... He knows me. Sees me." Gesturing behind you, and on cue, you felt his hand brush yours. "Did you?" The words sounding like a soft plea on behalf of your Other Self. A life, by what he described, you loathed.

The Ascendant regards you, his face impassive and impossible to read and all you could hope - pray for, was that your words were getting through. Even if he may not be your Astarion, it still pained you to see him like this. Amazed you he didn't look any different in the physical sense...

But then you watched his piercing scarlet eyes swirl back, full of malice, the twisted obsession of a love now corrupted, a chilling fury smoldering in his gaze as it consumed you. Commanding.

He grinned as your limbs once again went rigid. "Yes. I do." Casually raising his hand, this time you can only helplessly watch as another burst of foul magic slams into Astarion behind you, "now be a good girl, stop struggling and come to me."

In an instant, you berated yourself for your own stupidity to fall for this again, as your body stiffly, though slowly, moved forward. Behind you, chaos erupted as the creatures summoned by the Ascendant swarmed upon your friends. To your relief, you hear them fighting, possibly even holding them off, but that just meant you were on your own against... this.

Straining with all your will, you tore your gaze away from his eyes and fixated on the center of his chest. Though it had no effect on the command already imposed on your unwilling body, it felt less forceful. You grimaced, wriggling your fingers as you fought to regain any semblance of control from him. You never told Astarion you love him, you have to tell him, and you need to beat this if you ever want to...

With a fierce growl, your arms at last heed your demands, allowing you to swiftly reach for the dagger holstered at your side. However, you misjudged the distance between you two and realize too late you're within his grasp, and he quickly seizes your wrists, forcefully pulling you towards him. "Gods, I've missed you, my love..." The Ascendant's warm breath caressed your ear, his grip strong and possessive. Tight and suffocating.

Warm... He's...

With precision, he extends his hand towards your face, gently leading it to meet his own. The moment your lips touch, a searing heat spreads through your body, intensified by the graze of his fangs against your lip. As if anticipating your resistance, his other hand swiftly clasps the back of your head, holding you in place. Preventing any thought you may have had about breaking away before he's done.

It freezes you at first. The similarity, yet stark difference, of his lips hits you like a sudden gust of wind. It's a complete contrast to the cold you've grown accustomed to and sincerely enjoy from your Astarion.

How similar, but utterly different, his lips are. They radiate warmth, as do his hands and breath. It's a complete contrast to the cold you've grown accustomed to and sincerely enjoy from your Astarion. The smell of the Ascendant, rosemary and bergamot, differs from yours, though, with his comes a tinge of a frosty winter evening. Against every sense in your mind, screaming at you to stop him, fight this, your heart races with a sickening blend of fear and want.

Still, you fought, barely resisting the intense urge to kiss him back. This wasn't your Astarion. Yours was... calling out to you, and you could barely hear him. Could barely hear anything other than the Ascendants' breaths and mouth moving on yours, as if tempting you to sync with the kiss before he silently gives up and barely separates from you. "Come with me, my dark consort." He practically purrs, his lips brushing yours. "Faerûn waits eagerly for the return of its queen..."

The realization dawns on you, and your gut clenches in anticipation of what is about to unfold. You make one final, desperate attempt to wrench yourself free. Sights and sounds beyond the Ascendant return to you. Prying your arms free, you push against his chest.

Gods above, you don't want to live the nightmare he just described for yourself.

He sighs at your struggling and tsk's, "it seems I truly will have to teach you, and your body, all over again... And here I was hoping I could have the chain removed from the bottom of your throne..." murmuring softly, words dripping with disappointment, like the steady fall of rain.

Did your other self have a spare scroll handy...?

You writhe in his arms, twisting away in your attempt to untangle yourself from his grasp and slip down to the floor, knowing that attacking him with your hands will be useless and unable to grab your dagger in this position. You focus all your energy on trying to escape.

Across the floor, your eyes meet Astarion's. Your Astarion. Fighting viciously through wave after wave of monsters, unable to make any ground toward you. A shared desperation in your eyes, even as a sinister red glow slowly surrounds you. You never told him... you need to tell him...

Damn this. Damn him. "I love you, Astarion." You choke back the sob threatening to spill out, praying to whatever god is listening that he at least hears you say it.

For better or worse, his eyes gloss, "I'll find you, my love, I swear..."

Red swirls blind you.

And you're gone.

‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐–‐

The moment you disappear, so does the small horde of creatures. Astarion shakily crosses the floor until he reaches the spot where they stood. Where He took you.

He collapses.

And he screams.

Screams until his throat is raw. Screams ugly, heart wrenching sobs that stung the ears like knives, with the power to move even the most callous heart with pity.

Today was supposed to be the start of his new life. One he dreamed of for two centuries, that he would share with you. Cazador lay dead beside him, so it was still possible, but what use was this freedom when he felt emptier than he's ever felt in his entire existence, living and undead? While within reach, it offered no solace. He would be alone. Again.

Astarion swore he would find you, but how would he? Would he have to ascend? Seize that power and ascend as well? Could Shadowheart bring back Cazador, just to use and spend him, so that Astarion could save you?

The way he... the Ascendant looked at you... It was vile. Utterly devoted to you, yet possessed by obsession. A gnarled, grotesque, and barely recognizable idea of his own love for you. The things he would do to force you to... love him. While wearing his face.

The terror that if he ascended here and now, that he could become that bastard...

Not even the tadpole, the Absolute mattered to him anymore. Not when he faced life without you, the only person to see him, to love him... For him.

He truly meant it. Not everyone had a heart like you. No one was like you. He would never find another love like what he feels for you.

Why didn't he just kiss you this morning when he had the chance...?

An odd, dense mist formed in front of him, and Astarion reluctantly watched it. Hells, the last thing he needs is... whatever this is.

"This simply cannot be permitted." Said a soft-spoken voice as an elven woman emerged from within. Her eyes scanning over the scene. She wore a light grey robe and a symbol around her neck shaped like a golden, dawning sun with five half crescents like spokes of a wheel. Her hair was long and bright, eyes a pale blue.

She knelt in front of Astarion, her fingers brushing what he is only now seeing. Dark, simmering runes that form a circle around where He stood, where He took you. "Are you keen to uphold your promise?" She asked without looking up at him.

Astarion blinked, but he refused to hesitate. "If you have a way to help me save her, talk quickly." He replies impatiently.

The woman slowly rose to her feet and Astarion, though his knees trembled slightly, rose to join her. "Save may be too strong a word. Her suffering is inevitable now, and it will be plentiful in supply." A small frown flickered across her features. If she noticed the anguish that those words caused him, she paid no mind. "But we may yet return her here, where she belongs. Where she's needed." She says calmly. "But it cannot be so without you."

"What part of 'talk quickly' do you not understand? Are they not words you comprehend? Tell me what you need and I'll do it."

"Patience, little vampling." The woman soothes, unperturbed by his temper. "This timeline must sleep before her disappearance can affect it. In turn, your parasite will sleep, just as hers has already." She explains patiently, as another figure, a small Elven man with a journal and quill in hand, emerges from the mist and joins her side. He kneels down and begins studying the runes, drawing them on the parchment. "It will not be simple or easy. The Ascendants' power has risen to heights we haven't seen in other timelines. But he cannot continue his rise unchallenged." She continues with a small shake of her head.

Astarion moved to take a step toward her, only for the man to catch his foot gently, holding it back from covering one of the runes. "Tell me what you need from me, and I will give it." He says back firmly, a growl edging his tone.

The woman nodded. "Come with me. We have much to discuss." She gestures slowly with one hand behind her, toward the mist.

He's about to start toward it with little hesitation, before he stops and looks back. Karlach kneeling beside Halsin's mangled remains, Wyll's hand on her shoulder. Gale and Lae'zel were on either side of Shadowheart, who was nursing her broken hands.

She gives a nod, committed to this just as much as he was. "Get her back. And thrash the bastard for me." The cleric encourages with a weary but determined smile.

With a nod and a silent promise, he turns back to the woman and now the man, their presence looming at the edge of the mist, and he strides resolutely forward to enter it alongside them.

"I love you, Astarion." His heart shattering all over again remembering the tremble in your voice.

Astarion swore he would find you.

And this time he would say it back.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

A/N: Sorry, I just didn't have the heart to end it on a note of "oh no Spawn Astarion is just fucked now I guess".

This had been an idea on and off, but was inspired to go for it when I saw it prompted during my regular tumblr scroll. I have written, and rewritten and written it again, over and over, and this is the culmination of endless suffering. So... Thanks for reading this far! Hope you liked it!

EDIT: this is intended as a one-shot. There is no planned continuation. The ending is written to provide an alternate, a sense of hope, if you, the reader is unhappy with the "bad end". You can decide for yourself if Astarion is successful at finding you, if he survives a second confrontation, the consequences of it all, etc.

Of course, I have plenty of ideas for how I'd continue it but I have no serious interest to at the moment. I might write it privately for myself if I do, but it depends how much people care about this.