#the more alone i am the closer to death i get

[lonely-ey3s]

With All My Love (joel miller x f!reader, no outbreak): Chpt 2

Chapter Two: A Dramamine Would Be Nice

Word count: 10.2k

Chapter Summary: You get notice of your deployment which creates some anxieties, but allows you to reach out to Joel about it. You and Joel continue to write back and forth, surprising each other with little details, each opening up to another more and more. With each letter you both write to each other, the more the both of you start to realize how much you both mean to each other, as well as how much happier now that you are in each other's lives. 

Chapter warnings: switched POV, mentions of death, mentions of vomiting, flying in a military aircraft, mentions of blood and combat injuries, mutual pining, slight flirting? (our babies are a little out of practice), anxiety, feelings of being alone/isolated, panic attack(s), fluff, if I missed anything I apologize but those are the major ones. 

A/N: oh my gosh thank you for all the love and support you've shown me with chapter one. i did not expect so much response back and it's given me such motivation to keep writing and also blossomed so many ideas for chapters to come. i am super excited for ya'll to read the rest of this series, it's something that i am enjoying so much writing and sharing with you all <3

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Main Masterlist  

Reader’s POV

Two days later

You were right, no more than 48 hours after you graduated you and Maria received your deployment assignments. You would fly out to Afghanistan the following morning at 0300 hours. 

It all started to set in, the potential of you not coming back. You knew what you were getting into before enlisting, and you knew how grueling the war was, but it didn’t seep into your brain until now. You knew that being a medic would put you right in the line of fire as that is what you were trained to do, get those wounded out of the area, and treated with as much speed and safety as you could guarantee. What you didn’t think about was if you were to die, who would they alert? No one, right? 

You were packing up your duffle with what you needed when you felt the weight of that question drop down on you like a ton of bricks. Your heart rate sped up, the color seemed to disappear from your face and as you were packing a pair of socks, you realized your hand starting to shake. You then got a wave of nausea, and before you knew it, felt your dinner coming up. You ran to the toilet, throwing up what little dinner you had this evening. 

“Whoa, you good?” Maria followed behind and knelt behind you, laying a hand on your back. 

You coughed and then threw up once more, this time more violently, back arching, knuckles white from your grasp on the toilet, back and neck drenched with sweat. 

“There ya go, get it out.” Maria stood and grabbed your water bottle from your nightstand before returning again behind you. “Here, take a sip…” she handed you the bottle. 

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and then took the bottle and took a small sip. You sat back, falling with your back against the wall, head arched upwards, eyes shut tightly, your breathing unsteady and fast. You put your hand over your heart and gripped your shirt, trying to ground yourself. “Fuck…”

Maria spoke softly, “Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth…” and placed a hand on your knee to comfort you. 

You opened your eyes and looked at her, she nodded and kept eye contact, then proceeded to breathe in through her nose slowly, which you mimicked. She counted to 3 with her fingers and then slowly exhaled through her mouth, which you of course followed suit. 

“Again…” you both did it again and then she lightly squeezed your leg, “You aren’t alone. I know what’s going through your head and you aren’t alone. Anything happens, I’ve got you and you got me, right?” she moved her head closer as you dropped your head to catch your gaze again.

You nodded and swallowed the lump in your throat, “Right. We got each other.” you said letting out a slow exhale once more.

She nodded and then lightly squeezed your knee, “Come on, we gotta finish packing, we have an early morning.” she stood and offered her hand to help you to your feet. 

You grabbed her hand and stood, taking a second and then tilting your neck upwards and rolling it side to side, shaking your hands out to do what you could to get out which you could only assume was a lot of anxiety while she walked away. 

Maria went back to her duffle to finish what she had left to pack. You took another sip of your water and then flushed the toilet and walked back to your duffle bag. 

You looked at the clock, ‘18:37’. 

You looked over at Maria and she had already packed all her things and got into bed. She was someone that needed a full 8 hours of sleep if she could help it.

“Mind if I keep the desk lamp on while I wrap up a few things?” you asked as you folded up the rest of your socks, stuffing them deep in the bag. 

“No, you’re good, thanks for asking.” She tucked her head under the sheets and turned away from the light. 

You moved your pillow to untuck your sheets when you saw Joel’s letter and pictures neatly tucked under it. You smiled softly and let out a breath, his smile was something that brought you comfort lately. You sat on the edge of the bed and studied the photo for a moment then looked at the clock again before getting up and sitting down at your desk and pulling out your notebook and pen. Mail day was coincidentally tomorrow and you felt it was something short of fate as you hadn’t yet sent your other letter, but also, you didn’t know when the next time you’d be able to send him another letter. With that thought gnawing at you, you just started writing:

‘Joel, June 4, 2014

Call yourself lucky, you’re getting two letters this round. The first was a reply back to your letter, this one well, it's just going to be a bit of a ramble or dump of information to what I hope we can call each other a confidant. 

To cut to the chase, we got our deployment assignment. 

It’s setting in that it’s all happening. I’ve already I think had my first panic attack in weeks realizing the gravity of the situation. Pathetic right? I’m panicking about something I signed up for, willingly.. 

I just, I think I’m feeling the weight of my reality of ‘if I was to die’, they made us fill out some paperwork earlier today and one of the questions was who to alert in the case of injury or death. I left it blank.

If I’m being honest, I don’t have anyone besides Maria, and well now, you, that would even know where I was.  

My parents have been dead for years, but even if they were alive, they weren’t the type of parents that would be concerned with my well being. All they cared about when they were alive was what they could get out of me. Hell, they’d probably try to seek out some pension or compensation out of the military for my death.  

Sorry. That was a lot. I don’t really know what I’m doing here.

You put your pen down and sighed, ‘What am I doing? Trauma dumping on this poor guy? Jesus…’ you thought. You looked at the Polaroid photo of him and something urged you to keep writing, something told you that he’d want to listen and help. 

'I guess what I’m trying to say is, I am just feeling alone. Yeah, I’ve got Maria here and she’ll be with me through this deployment, but it's a different type of alone. One deep down, feels like a burning brand, scorched into my being. 

I’ve always been alone, but never felt it the way I am right now. I mean, like I said above, my parents didn’t really care about me, I mean not like I’m sure you do with your daughter. You’d move heaven and earth for her, put your life on the line for hers. You can tell that just by the way you smile at her. I have rarely known that to last, to have known clear and utter devotion and love, by a parent or hell, by a partner. The last.. monster I was with.. He was the opposite of devotion and love. Hell, he’s the reason I joined, joined to get away from him, to be safe. But that’s another story for a longer letter, plus I don’t think you want to know about all that shit this early into our relationship, that's a 3rd date topic of conversation. 

Sorry, that was forward of me to say, I just mean, it's heavy and a lot. 

Do you ever feel alone? I mean being a single dad, I would assume you do at times. What do you do? I tend to shove it down and ignore it (not healthy, I know) - but it’s just easier, you know?

It’s been years since I haven’t felt this so loudly.. 

When I was a young teen, I would visit this little old man down the street. His name was Levi. He was the closest thing I had to what a grand dad might be. When my parents would fight, or they’d leave me for days on end to gamble or do hell knows what.. I’d go to Levi’s. He’d feed me, make sure I had somewhere to sleep on his couch, and even make me lunch for school. He used to pack me homemade ‘treasure cookies’ he called them, in my lunch, write me little jokes in my lunch bag… he used to write ‘Cricket’, his nickname he had for me on those lunch bags. He was everything to me for those 5 years I knew him. Taught me how to drive (illegally, must’ve been 13 when he taught me), how to change tires, cook for myself, taught me how to fight, how to take care of myself.'

You teared up as you wrote, a tear landing on the paper. 

'Something tells me he knew his time was limited, because looking back, he shoved as much love and care he could on me before he died of a stroke…

I came home from school.. found an ambulance taking him out of his place. After that, I was truly on my own and when that feeling came back again.  

I miss him, I know he’d be mad at me for joining tho… he would say there were other ways, that he’d make sure I was safe. And he would, he’d keep me safe. 

Jesus, that old man was terrifying when he needed to be. I remember.. a boy from school put hands on me. He came to my school after the principal called him because I socked the kid in the nose, and was getting suspended for it (bullshit, I know), but he told the kid while he was waiting in the hall for his parents to come, if he ever looked my way again, he knew where he lived, and it wouldn’t be just a broken nose next time. The kid never came near me again, in fact now that I think about it, not a lot of boys came around while he was alive… jeez, thanks Levi for being the ultimate chastity belt.'

You laughed to yourself thinking about that. 

'Anyway, thanks for listening to me ramble. It’s actually helped getting all this out. Don’t feel obligated to write back concerning this letter, consider it like a… what do the Catholics call it? Oh, like a confessional! Well, not really, but you get it, right? 

I’ll write back when I can. I’m going to Afghanistan, we haven't received where we will be stationed, but I'll be sure to write as soon as I'm able.

Also, if you send your replies before I am able to write you, I've been told mail will automatically forward to our new location, from Fort Jackson.

Thanks again Joel. 

Talk soon. 

Warm regards, 

Y/N’

You folded it into thirds, and put it into a new envelope, sealed it, and then looked back at your room, taking it in. 

‘I’ve got this.’ you thought. 

You stood up, turned off the lamp and then laid on your bed, slowly drifting to sleep. 

— 

You awoke to your alarm blaring at 0230, Maria already up and getting ready. You rolled over and put your pillow over your head, groaning. You were never a morning person, this morning was a testament to that. 

“Whoever decided for us to fly out at 3am in the damn morning… I hope their pillow is always hot, and they have a pebble in their shoe!” you groaned again, but sat up, stretching your arms above your head.  

Maria chuckled at your reaction. She was a morning person. She loved the early start to the day and sunrise and blah blah blah. “You are NOT a morning person.” she turned to look at you, tying up her hair.

You shot her a glare, “You don’t say, Ms. Ray of frickin’ Sunshine…” 

She chuckled and pointed to your desk, “I got you a cup of coffee from the cafe, and took your letters to Joel already to the mail drop...” She turned to look at you and smirked, “Two letters in two days? Lucky man…” 

You rolled your eyes, “Ha ha, nice insinuation… you’re so funny.” you stood up and walked over to grab the coffee, taking a sip. “For your information… I was just letting him know we got deployed.” you shrugged. “Did you let.. what was his name again… Reginald, know?” you said smirking into your cup, taking another sip, knowing it would get a rise out of her. 

“Oh stop it, ok? You know his name is Tommy!” she threw her hair brush at you softly, you caught it and chuckled. 

“Speaking of Tommy, I saw Joel’s last name was Miller on your letter, and he’s from Texas, right? Curious if he’s related to my pen pal, they both have the last name of Miller and both live in Texas..” she questioned as she looked back in the mirror to make sure her hair looked acceptable. 

You shrugged your shoulders and started to clean yourself up as you needed to leave for the bus soon. “I don’t know. The odds of that would be like what, 1 in a million?” you said as you straightened up your hair bun and grabbed your toothbrush, starting to put toothpaste on it, “Joel mentioned owning a construction business with his brother, but never mentioned a name. I can ask if you want?” you looked back at Maria before shoving your toothbrush in your mouth, brushing softly.

She shook her head, “No, it's ok. I’ll mention it to Tommy next time I write.” she packed up the last of her things as you spit your toothpaste down the sink. “Got everything?” she asked, starting to grab her things.

You wiped your mouth and nodded “Yeah, I’m ready.” you grabbed your cap, slid on your boots, grabbed your duffle and cup of coffee, and both of you walked to the bus stop.

—

The bus ride to the airport was about a 30 minute drive. You could tell that everyone’s nerves were a bit heightened. A guy's leg behind you kept bouncing the whole way there against the back of your seat which drove you mad- but deep down you also knew it wasn’t him trying to be annoying, it was probably a coping mechanism; as you were currently tapping your fingers anxiously against your knee. 

When you arrived at the airport, you were all instructed to tag your bags and then load up into the hangar of this huge military plane. 

“Eyes up!" you all stood to attention as soon as you heard the command. "You aren’t flying commercial or first class today, so I suggest you all suck it up - get all your bitching and moaning out now because if I hear one complaint when this aircraft is in the air, so help me I’ll toss you out! Understood!?” the commanding officer yelled loudly amongst the crowd.

Everyone in unison shouted “Yes sir!”

"Buckle up." he turned around to release you all. You all started to sit down, start to buckle. 

Within seconds, another man came into the plane, marked higher than the other. "Attention!" someone called loudly. You all stood to attention, facing forward, hands to your side, uniform formation.

“My name is Sgt. Anders, this will be a 35 hour trip. So strap in, and get comfortable. We will be making multiple fuel stops. When that happens, you can get up, stretch and use the restroom, but you will not be leaving the aircraft. We are on a tight schedule and can’t afford delays. We will be flying in and landing at Bagram Air Base. If anything is to go south, as we will be flying into an active war zone at one point.. there are parachute backpacks above you. You should all know how to equip one, if not, you better hope the person next to you helps your helpless ass- put one on!” he continued to yell as he paced up and down the plane. 

“When you arrive, you will be assigned to a portable, you will have your assignment, departure time, commanding officer, and any other necessary information in an envelope on your beds!” He looked at you and Maria, “Medics! You will be assigned in teams of two!” He looked at two other guys down the line that were also medics, “You will be paired by gender, so women with women, men with men.” He looked back at you and Maria, “Your assignments will be immediate, as soon as you touch down. You will be loaded into a Humvee and taken to location, is that understood?”

“Sir, yes sir.” you all four said in unison. 

As he continued to further instruct the rest of the group, you leaned slightly towards Maria, careful to not break formation and softly said, “Didn’t know our assignment would be so immediate, did you?” she shook her head very slightly and exhaled a breath. You could tell she was nervous. You grabbed her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “We got this.” you said facing forward, leaning back straight. 

She nodded slightly and squeezed your hand back in agreement. 

After about 5 more minutes of instructions, you were put at ease, told to buckle in, and the aircraft took off. 

—

You were not the biggest fan of flying to begin with, but this experience and this damn aircraft made you feel a lot more vulnerable and nervous than flying commercial. You kept thinking ‘If I would have known I was flying 35 damn hours without a flight attendant and knowing there is a parachute back above my head, I would have never signed on the dotted line. Fuck this shit…’ 

Around hour 3 there was major turbulence, you tucked your head down and shut your eyes trying to calm down your growing anxiety, legs bouncing up and down together, hands gripping your seat belt over your chest so damn tight your knuckles were turning white. 

Maria noticed and leaned over, “I heard there’s going to be a fuel stop in 30 minutes, we just gotta hold on ‘til then.” 

The fuel stop was more like 45 minutes later with the turbulence. 

As soon as the plane landed and you were given the ok to unbuckle, you bolted to the toilets. Maria followed closely behind, also sick from the nerves. 

You chuckled at the sink after you both were done being sick, “Some Dramamine would be nice right about now, am I right?” you gently knocked your elbow against hers, drying your hands with a paper towel. 

She smiled and splashed her face with some water, “That or a fuckin’ Xanax. We all need to take a chill pill...” 

You both chuckled softly and then walked back to your seats together, starting to sit back down when the other two medics came over from their seats, “Sounds like we’ll be working together…” one of them said, looking down at you both. 

You stood up and held out your hand, “Yeah, sounds like it. I’m ___ and this is Maria. Nice to meet you…?” Maria stood and held her hand out as well. 

“Oh um, Terrance, and this is Reginald, but we call him Reggie.” he looked towards the baby face standing next to him, who tried to size you both up by puffing up his chest and trying to appear taller than he actually was. 

You and Maria both let out a snicker at the name Reginald. 

“Somethin’ funny?” Reggie asked, clearly offended. 

You shook your head and smiled, “No, no I’m sorry. We just have-” you shook your head, not caring to explain, seeing he was trying to possibly start an argument, “No, nothing’s funny, sorry.” you shook his hand, gripping it tighter than usual, trying to assert you weren’t going to be sized up by him “Nice to meet you Reggie.” you gave him a half smile, clenching your jaw down a bit. You knew that being dainty and feminine wasn’t the route to go with him, if you didn’t shut him down now, you could see him possibly being an issue.

You looked at Terrance and shook his hand more gently, giving him a more genuine smile, “Nice to meet you both.”

Both nodded, agreeing, then turned to go back to their seats. Reggie was still somewhat bothered by your humor that you didn’t care to explain to him. 

Maria and you sat down again and then turned to each other and chuckled when you said “Shucks, I think we hurt his feelings..” 

Maria sat back in her seat, unbothered, “Oh boo, he’ll get over it.”

You chuckled and sat back as well, thinking out loud. “Reginald… who names their kid Reginald?” 

Maria chuckled to herself and shrugged her shoulders. 

Before you knew it the plane took off again. 

Joel’s POV

Your letters came to Joel about a week after you left for Afghanistan. Sarah came in from grabbing the mail after school one day and was shocked to see two envelopes in mail. Joel hadn’t gotten home yet. He was still at work but Sarah smiled knowing her dad got two letters, she hoped that meant things were going well between the two of you. Her dad seemed a bit different since the first letter came around. Joel also would never admit this, but Sarah caught him a few times checking the mail more times than once during the days he had off, from what she could guess was him hoping to hear from you. 

She went upstairs and laid them out on his pillow and then started on her homework in her own room turning on some music. 

Joel got home around 7pm, dead tired and sore as hell. He was covered in saw dust and reeked of sweat. He needed a shower, and needed it now. 

He heard the music in Sarah’s room and lightly knocked on her door, “M’ gonna to take a quick shower baby girl, why don’t you order us some pizza? My wallet is down on the counter..” 

Sarah turned her music down slightly “Pepperoni and Three Meat sound good?” 

Joel started walking down the hall to his room, taking his shirt off in the process, “Anythin’ you want sweetheart.” 

He closed the door behind him and went to sit on the edge of the bed to take his work boots off when he stopped to look back at his pillow, seeing the two envelopes. He took off one boot and then scooted over and grabbed the envelopes. He immediately smiled seeing your name and then looked slightly confused when he saw two envelopes. “Wonder why I got two..” he opened the first, which was the one you wrote right after your graduation. 

He smiled at your sincere remarks about Sarah. It warmed his heart when you asked about her, and it felt genuine, not just conversation filler.

He chuckled when you mentioned the spiders in the jungle and then frowned when you mentioned your baseball team being the Cubs, “Oh we’re gonna have to fix that…” he said lowly. He continued to read and then a smile came back to his lips when you mentioned the Cowboys and couldn’t help but agree with your comment about their defense needing some work. 

He smiled at your suggestion for him to heat his back and knees, it was something not a lot of people outside of Sarah and Tommy did for him, care for his well being. 

He pulled out the post card you sent as well and chuckled about your remark about southern food. You weren’t wrong, food in the south is very good, and he thought when you were back, maybe he could barbecue for you. He was known for making some mighty tasty ribs.

He then pulled out the two pictures you sent. He saw the one of you alone first. He smiled warmly and traced his thumb gently over the photograph. ‘She’s gorgeous..’ he thought to himself. You had a beautiful smile, and a very warm energy he could sense. He felt something tug in his chest when he continued to look at the photo. He flipped to the other photo and smiled wider seeing you smile bigger with Maria. 

You were contagious. 

He couldn’t help but chuckle at how bright you were. He looked back at the other photo for a moment longer, and then set them both aside and picked up the second envelope. 

This letter felt thicker right off the bat, and for some reason that made his heart drop. He wondered what that could mean. He unfolded the pages and began to read. He immediately could tell that you reached out when you were struggling. 

He hated thinking about that smile of yours being dimmed. He read every word like his breath depended on it. Soaking in every syllable so he could give you what you might need in his response. 

He came across the part where you talked about Levi and smiled softly, having comfort that someone took care of you like that. You deserved that at the bare minimum, and he hated to learn that you had been so alone and neglected for so long. He chuckled at the chastity belt part, thinking if it were him, he would have still made a move on you, Levi wouldn't have kept him away from a beautiful girl like you.

He noticed the tear stain on the letter when you mentioned his passing. He rubbed his thumb over it gently, as if trying to comfort you somehow, telepathically. 

He finished reading and looked up at the wall across from him, letting out a soft sigh, racking his brain for what to do next. 

—

The next day 

Joel was a man of very few words, but what he lacked in speaking, he made up for in actions. One could say one of his love languages was acts of service. 

He made a commitment to get work off a little earlier than usual so he could make it to the store before they closed, as he wanted to send something to you today, sooner than later. 

He grabbed three things, a disposable camera and a package envelope large enough to fit the camera in, and a new post card design. 

As he was walking down the street to his truck, he walked past a small jewelry shop, something in the display window caught his eye. They had a trinity knot pendant. It was perfect. He knew that was a symbol of protection, and it felt only right to send it to you with where you were going. 

He purchased it and then went and sat in his truck. He addressed the envelope to you, put the pendant in, which was in a little velvet bag, and then a disposable camera inside. He then wrote on the postcard he grabbed from the market:

'Y/N, June 11, 2014

Do you think you out-letter me by sending two at once? It’s on. ;)

Consider this my first letter. 

The camera is to be a placeholder until you get back, then I’m gonna get you a digital one. I’m now curious and want to see what you can do with one of those. For now, I’ll be sending you a disposable camera - one for every month that you're deployed. I expect once you’ve filled it up, you’ll mail it back to me, I’ll process them and then when you get home, I’ll hand deliver all the photos you took - we’ll call it a meet and greet, it’ll give us a good excuse to meet up. 

The pendant is to keep you and your group safe, but mostly you. ;)

My mom always taught us about how certain symbols and things carry certain powers of protection, and right now, you need protection where you are. 

Be safe, stay healthy, and just for the record, I prayed there wouldn’t be any big bugs, I hope it worked. ;)

-Joel’ 

He then stopped by the post office and mailed that off first. 

He would worry about the letter he wanted to write back to you when Sarah was in bed later, but he wanted to get those small pieces of what he hoped would be motivation and support to you as soon as he could. 

Joel got home right after Sarah got home from soccer practice. Sarah was getting a glass of water from the sink when he walked in, she set her glass down, shock and slight worry coursing through her. 

Seeing him home so early was rare, but it was a Thursday, Thursday’s meant heating chicken nuggets in the oven and her dad not being home until after she was in bed. 

“You’re home early… are you ok? Do you feel sick?” she rushed over and put her hand to his forehead, attempting to feel his temperature. When he felt normal, she looked at him a bit more worried. 

“Dad, did you hit your head at work? Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?” she held up 4 fingers, making eye contact with him, as if she was trying to look for a concussion or head injury. 

Joel chuckled and gently pushed her fingers away, “I’m fine sweetheart.” 

She scoffed, offended he didn’t answer her question, “Dad! This is serious, how many fingers?” She put the same 4 fingers up with wide eyes and a jutted out jaw, something she did when she meant business.

“4 fingers.. My name is Joel Miller, I am home with my beautiful daughter, Sarah…” he smiled sweetly at her and kissed her forehead and then started walking towards the fridge to grab a drink for himself, “It’s Thursday, Obama is the president, and…” he held out his arms straight out from himself, water bottle in his right hand, and walked in a straight line toe, to heel back towards her, stopping in front of her, chuckling lightly as he touched his nose with each pointer finger like he was performing a field sobriety test, “I am fine baby girl. Just got off work early.” he booped her nose with his finger and began to walk to sit at the table to take his boots off. 

Sarah’s right eye twitched in disbelief, and she looked at him like he was nuts, “Dad, you never get off work early, especially on a Thursday…” she came and sat by him, “Is everything ok?” 

He smiled again warmly at her and gently grabbed her hand that was on the table, “Yes, everything is ok. I promise.” he gently gave it a squeeze, “Everyone is safe and healthy. I am just home because I had some errands to run before the stores closed.”

Sarah looked at him puzzled for a few seconds then gasped loudly, “Did you have a date?!” 

He cocked his head at her and let out a deep gut laugh, “Sarah.. If I ever go on a date looking like this, and smelling like..” he raised his armpit and took a few sniffs and then waved his other hand in front of his nose “Jesus… smelling like this..? You need to admit me to a psych ward, because that means I’ve lost my damn mind!” 

Sarah giggled at his playfulness and nodded, “Understood.” She stood up from the table and went to walk away but stopped suddenly and looked back at her dad, head tilted to the side in curiosity, “If you weren’t on a date, then what errands did you do to come home empty handed?” 

She wasn’t going to let this go. Joel and her were as thick as thieves. They told each other everything, nothing was hidden from each other, at least for the most part, Sarah kept boys that flirted with her to herself, obviously. 

“I uh, I read Y/N’s letters last night, and one of them gave me an idea of something I could send her in addition to the normal letters we write, somethin’ small but meaningful since she said she was getting deployed..” he cleared this throat and scratched the scruff of his chin, trying to not give any added context that you were struggling. But also, he went out of his way to pretty much send you a care package.

He knew Sarah would take the intention out of context and she’d think something more.. was going on. Which there wasn’t, not that Joel wouldn’t mind that, but it was meant purely as a friendly gesture, or that’s what he kept telling himself. 

“That’s nice of you dad, what did you get her?” Sarah looked at him with a sweet smile. 

He broke eye contact and starting untying his second boot to take off his foot, “She um.. mentioned that she likes taking pictures, so I sent her a disposable camera.” he tossed the second boot next to the first and then stood up, “Told her if she sent it back, I’d get the photos developed for her…” he left the part out about the necklace and how he also said how he’d keep sending camera’s so that he had an excuse to meet up with her in person, Sarah didn’t need to know about that plan, at least not yet. 

He started walking out of the kitchen, up the stairs, “Anyways, I’m going to hop into a quick shower then I’ll make us something to eat.” 

Sarah nodded and then stood in the kitchen and smiled to herself as Joel continued up the stairs. She knew her dad better than anyone, and she knew when he breaks eye contact and then removes himself from a conversation, there’s more he doesn’t want to share. However, Sarah was ok with that. He seemed lighter and happier since getting letters from you; and for him to take work off early…that wasn’t something he just did for anyone. He only did things like that for those he truly cared about.

—

Joel showered and then made the two of them what Sarah called ‘The Joel Special’ - which was a can of Chef Boy-ar-dee’s Beefaroni and homemade garlic bread. 

Sarah retired early to her bedroom as she mentioned she had a paper to finish and early morning tomorrow for the debate team before school. 

Joel was left in the kitchen, cleaning off the dishes, stuck inside his thoughts, wondering what you were up to right now. Since your last letters, you were a constant thought in his mind. Especially after seeing what you look like. How beautiful you were. Hell, you were in your uniform and still took his breath away. He couldn’t fathom how good you’d look in a sundress or just regular clothes, that thought drove him somewhat mad. 

He did wonder what you normally wore and how you did your hair. He could see you wore a bun which signaled you had longer hair. He also could tell you had a very feminine energy about you, were you someone that wore a lot of makeup or took the more natural approach? Either way didn’t matter to him, he just wondered. He was very curious to get to know you more out of the military. 

However, he knew he probably wouldn’t see that side of you for a long time as he knew when Tommy served and would Skype him, he was always in his uniform or some form of it. 

I wonder if she’d be up to Skyping at one point? Maybe in a couple weeks, I’ll put the idea out there… or maybe mention it in the letter? He thought as he finished loading up the dishwasher. 

He put a dishwasher tablet in, wiped down the counters and table, put the coffee machine to pre-brew for the morning and then headed upstairs after making sure everything was secure and taken care of. 

He knocked on Sarah’s door lightly before opening it up a little, “Hey sweet pea, let’s be in bed by 9pm. Also, I’ll take you to school tomorrow if you’d like. Gotta leave by 6:30 am right?” he said looking down at her reading something at her desk. 

“Ok dad, and sure, that’d be nice to grab a ride. Yeah, by 6:30am!” she looked up with a soft smile. 

“Sounds good, I’ll set my alarm to be up in time. Goodnight, I love you.” he leaned in and kissed the top of her head before lightly closing the door again after she said goodnight back and walked to his bedroom. 

He shut his door and then pulled out the bedside table Sarah had got for him last Christmas, for when she does breakfast in bed for him on birthdays and other special events, before pulling out a pen and paper and sitting on top of his sheets. 

He turned on his bedside table lamp and turned the tv on the sports channel for some background noise before zoning in and writing: 

‘Y/N, June 12, 2014

Told ya I’d be writing another letter! :) 

This one should be to you maybe a day or two after the package I sent. I hope it finds you well. I also hope you made it to your base overseas safely. I remember when my brother went over there the flight was brutally long and the plane they went over made him forever now terrified of flying. I hope that didn’t happen for you, that you got to fly more comfortably. 

I first wanted to thank you for trusting me with the anxieties you were feeling in your last letter. I know that writing and opening up like that to anyone, but someone like me, I mean we are two steps away from being somewhat strangers, was not the easiest. Hell, I’d be nervous to do it… but you did.. so… thank you for trusting me with so much important information you shared, I won’t make you regret it.

I also want to say, you aren’t alone, and you aren’t pathetic for feeling that way. 

In all honesty, I tend to also feel the same way whenever I feel anything but happy. I would say ‘I’m pathetic for feeling sad, alone, hell… for when I grieved - when Sarah’s mom left us.’ I felt stupid for feeling mad, betrayed, and left alone to raise our daughter. However, I was wrong, I had every right to feel those things. It took a long time to come to terms with that - a whole lot of growin’ up on my part, also some convincin’ from my brother and Sarah… but those feelings are valid, and you aren’t less of a person for feeling them. 

In this case, sweetheart, you are 100% wrong about being alone. You’ve got me now. Right? 

I know, at least speakin’ for myself, I’ve found great comfort in our letters, in your humor, your stories.. like.. Levi - he sounds like my granddad. He took the place of my dad when I was growing up a lot of the time. My dad was worried more about gambling and bets than my mom, brother and I. But my granddad - stepped in and up. He taught my brother, Tommy, and I, everything about being a man. How to work hard, provide for our family, how to respect women, how to pretty much be what my dad wasn’t. 

He was alive when Sarah’s mom left us, he was the one to tell me that it was time to be the man he raised me to be. He wasn’t wrong, I needed to hear that. It shaped me to be the man and father I am for Sarah. She’s everything to me and like you said, I will move heaven and earth for those in my life I love. 

I’m so sorry to hear that Levi passed, I can tell he left a huge mark and influence in your life and heart. I hope you know that he is with you and always will be in spirit. 

By the way, quick side note, I was told by Sarah that she wanted this picture sent of us to you :)

She’s a lot better at capturing moments than I am on her camera so we will have to thank her for being proactive or I would probably never get photos to you. I think I would be better about it with my phone, but the damn Poloroid intimidates me. 

Perhaps when you’re back, we could text each other? It would be faster than letters, unless you like that, I’d be happy to do either or.

Before I forget, you asked my favorite animal, I like foxes. I think they are beautiful creatures and get a bad rap in my opinion. I also love whales like you. I remember there was an episode that we watched that explained that there was a resident pod of whales that have continued to stay by this coast in Oregon, um, if my memory serves me, I think it was Depoe Bay? And it said they’ve continued for years to come back and their pod keeps growing… that’d be cool to see, don’t you think? 

Speaking of animals, what was the reason behind Levi’s nickname for you, ‘Cricket’’..? Do you chirp in your sleep or somethin’ cute like that?

Your last letter, you asked about hobbies and I told you I didn’t have any, but now that I think of it, I guess I kind of do. I do woodworking here and there. I haven't done it in a few years unfortunately- but I specialized in rocking chairs and I was approached by an old family friend today to make one for their pregnant daughter’s nursery. Any ideas of what I should carve into it? I was thinking since they are having a girl doing flowers or maybe an intricate bow. What do you think? I’d love your thoughts. I’ll have Sarah take pictures to also keep you updated on its process, would that be ok?'

Joel looked over at your picture and smiled softly, running his fingers through his hair anxiously, thinking if he should ask about maybe doing a Skype call as that’s how he kept in touch with Tommy while he was deployed. 

'I was also wondering if you’d be open to Skype.. ' he stopped writing and fiddled with the pen between his thick fingers, thinking, slightly panicking.

He shook his head and exhaled, chickening out. ‘Too soon..’ he thought to himself. 

He lazily scribbled over the text in an attempt to hide what he wrote. 

'I’ll wrap this up as I’ve got an early morning but I just wanted to say a few final things:

-You aren’t alone. 

-Your feelings are valid. 

-Broncos need a better offense and the Vikings need a better team - GO COWBOYS! ;)

All my best, 

Joel’ 

He put the photo of him and Sarah in the envelope and then folded his papers into thirds before sticking it in the envelope and licking it shut.

He put it on his nightstand to remind him to drop it off at the post office on the way to work tomorrow morning, turned off his light and tv and slowly fell asleep. 

Reader POV

2 weeks later 

You have been in the middle of nowhere for the past 2 weeks. The commanding sergeant wasn’t kidding when he said your assignment was immediate. Once you got off the plane and into the Humvee, the four of you were driven another hour to a smaller city outside of Bagram. 

Once there, you were to provide immediate medical assistance to the troops and allies there. 

Maria and you worked together to triage and maintain a good rhythm to make sure those with more immediate needs were taken care of while Reggie and Terrance took on the less immediate concerns. 

The four of you worked well together, especially after Reggie got over his feelings and got to know you and Maria more. You finally caved and told him why you two laughed at his name, and told them about your pen pals. Reggie understood and agreed, the name Reginald was a poor name. 

After that, and finding your rhythm, you all worked like a well oiled machine. 

___

0900 hours - June 19, 2014

“Maria, I need some help over here!” you shouted across a tent that was filled with a mixture of fellow troops and city folk. 

You had a young man on the table from the local village, no more than 13, bleeding out of his chest from what you were told was caused by shrapnel from a grenade explosion that happened about 2 miles south of your location. 

For the last 2 days there had been a stand off between the American soldiers and members of the enemy. 

7 dead. 

16 wounded. 

9 hours on your feet. 

Your medical tent was full and people just kept coming. You and Maria were moving patients into your own bed quarters to keep attending to people. 

Maria rushed over, your hands putting pressure on the wound that must’ve nicked an artery based on how much blood had been coming out. “What do you need?” she said ready to dive in wherever needed. 

“Get some gauze and put pressure on the wound. I’m going to get IV going and then a repair kit to attempt to tie off the cause of this bleeding.” you moved your hands that were quickly replaced by hers and turned around to rinse your hands in a basin full of water with as much speed as possible without being reckless. 

You had picked up a little bit of the language in the little time you had been there. You smiled softly at the boy looking terrified back at you laying on the table, “I am here to help. Can you tell me your name?” you said in Dari, which was the general language spoken in that region. 

He nodded frantically “Azzami…” he said softly. While he spoke you quickly and effectively stuck him with an IV needle and started pushing fluids.

“Hello Azzami, my name is ____ and this is Maria.” You said in Dari again. “I need you to stay still and keep your eyes on Maria, for me, can you do that?” you said slower and used hand signals to help translate as you now spoke in English. 

He nodded “Look Maria. Stay still.” 

You nodded “Yes, good.” you said in Dari. 

Azzami turned his head and kept eye contact with Maria. She smiled and softly hummed a song to him that you both had heard mothers sing to their babies around the village. 

You took that as your chance to do what you needed to do. You grabbed some forceps and a needle and sutures, as well as moving the light that was shining overhead closer to Azzami’s chest. You looked at Maria quickly and said “This is going to hurt him like a bitch, keep humming.” 

You immediately dug your finger into the wound to investigate where the bleeding was coming from, and almost immediately you felt the left thoracic artery leaking. Azzami screamed and cried, Maria held his head and shoulders down and continued to hum to him louder, keeping eye contact. 

“Very good Azzami, you’re so brave.” you said in Dari as you started to wrap a stitch to stop the bleeding. Before you were done he passed out from the pain. 

You started to hum along with Maria, not knowing if he was conscious enough to still know what was going on, but wanted to still provide him comfort. She looked at you and nodded towards the injury after you finished, “You think you got it?” 

You nodded “Yeah, that’ll hold. I just need to dress it up and then give him a shot of antibiotics.” you started to gather the needed supplies to dress the wound, “You’re good to go help Reggie, he’s been doing compressions on that guy for the past 10 minutes..” you sadly looked his way briefly, you knew that doing compressions that long didn’t mean anything good. Maria nodded and started heading that way. 

You finished dressing Azzami’s wound and gave him a shot of antibiotics before Terrance called you over to help with another in take. 

You ran over “What do we have?” you asked as you started a general examination, shining a light in the man’s eyes seeing a head wound, you saw no pupil reaction. 

“Anderson said he was hit in the chest, fell and hit his head, he’s been on site for at least 10 minutes…” Terrance said starting to grab gauze and a repair kit which was routine procedure for most chest wounds. You took your fingers to the pulse point of the soldier's throat and felt nothing. “Terr.. there’s no pulse, no pupil reaction..” you said matter of factly. 

Terrance shook his head frantically, taking gauze and pushing it to the chest wound, “No, there’s gotta be something we can do..” The number of deaths had been getting to him. He was someone that had a hard time letting go. 

You pulled your stethoscope off your neck and put it on the patient’s chest to listen, checking for even the smallest sound of movement, something to tell you there was a chance. Terrance stood still, looking at you, with hope. 

You pulled it off your ears to hang around your neck and shook your head. “DOA..” you put your hand over Terrance’s which was on the soldiers chest wound, covered in blood,  “Terr, he was struck pretty close to the aorta..” you looked at the entry wound. “... he was gone probably within the first 90 seconds of getting hit. He was out there with little to no care for what we think was 10+ minutes. He’s dead. I’m sorry.” you sighed heavily and looked at the body before you, taking your free hand to the soldier's face and gently closing his eyes. “Rest now… you served valiantly..” you whispered gently. 

You stepped back and nodded at Terrance before you took off the gloves you had on your hands and moved onto the next patient. You shoved every ounce of frustration and sadness down deep. Now wasn’t the time. 

That chaos went on for 6 more hours. 

6 more grueling hours filled with blood, sweat and tears. 

5 more deaths.  

18 more wounded. 

You traded off with the other crew of medics as you work 12 hour shifts at time to avoid burnout when you’re not out in the field. 

Terrance and Reggie offered for you and Maria to come rest in their quarters as they knew you guys had patients currently in yours.

You laid flat on the ground as soon as you got inside, the small fan hitting you like a godsend. You went from humid heat to dry heat in Afghanistan and you were bitter about it because you never had air conditioning, just small fans that you felt just pushed the heat around.  

Terrence sat on his bunk, looking down at his hands, mind far from here. 

Maria laid beside you and let out a breath of relief “I just heard Sgt. Beck tell someone that we cleared out that area; whoever is left on the other side is either dead or surrendering. We shouldn’t have any more heat come through.” 

You sighed heavily and put your arms over your head to cover your eyes “Oh thank god..” you were all exhausted. The last two weeks had been grueling. Little to no sleep, and mentally draining. You barely had time to even shower half the time or eat, it was constant. 

Reggie came in grinning ear to ear, “Ladies and well.. Terrance.. good news! We finally got mail!” He said, shaking his hips like the idiot he tended to be. 

You all shot up excitedly and turned towards him. Maria and you standing walk up to him. 

The mail was temporarily delayed due to the village entrance being deemed unsafe for the last two weeks. You were sure that the postcard you tried to get to Joel within the first few days, letting him know you got there safely, hadn't made it out of the village.

You all needed contact from the outside, you needed to hear from your loved ones. 

“Maria, you have 3 letters, milady.. Two from mom and dad, one from a.. Mr. Miller…? Oooh is this Reginald?!” he caught on and remembered the name of her pen pal you guys told him about. He shook the letter up in the air teasingly towards her. 

Maria grabbed all three envelopes and stuck her tongue out at Reggie, “His name is Tommy, but yes, this is who that idiot-” she nodded towards you, you hold up your hands in defense, “..calls Reginald.” 

You chuckled and looked at Reggie, “So feisty, isn’t she?” 

He chuckled along with you and nodded, and then looked at the mail he had remaining, “Ooh would you look at that! You got spoiled… you not only got a letter but a small parcel from Mr. Joel..” he shook the parcel in front of you teasingly like he did with Maria. 

You blushed slightly and smiled “Wait what? He sent a parcel?” you asked, reaching for the letter and parcel, confused as you didn’t know what he could have possibly had sent. 

Reggie pulled back to tease you further, he had a shit eating grin plastered on his face, “Would you look at that! You’re blushing… Oooh you liiike him!”

You chuckled and went to grab the items again, “No, I-” only for him to pull them away and start to run away from you like a child. 

Now you were pissed. Before he got out of arm's reach you grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and pinned him against the bunk bed he and Terrance shared, “Hey shit stain, you wanna play this game with me?” 

Reggie swallowed hard and shook his head. 

“Good boy. Now give me my mail.” you smirked, holding out your free hand. He slowly gave you both items. You let his collar go then gave him a playful punch to the gut, “Thanks Reggie..”

He coughed and groaned in pain, “Not cool, man.” 

You ignored him and went to sit down at their desk, now curious as to what the hell Joel sent to you. 

You looked between the two items and tried to decide which to open first. You looked at the post date and saw the parcel was sent first so opened that one. 

You pulled out the postcard and started to read it and then stopped when he mentioned the first item in the package. 

You slowly took the disposable camera out and smiled widely then went back to the postcard, reading that part. 

‘The camera is to be a placeholder until you get back, then I’m gonna get you a digital one. I’m now curious and want to see what you can do with one of those�� 

…I’ll process them and then when you get home, I’ll hand deliver all the photos you took, we’ll call it a meet and greet and it’ll give us a good excuse to meet up…’

You smiled at that last part warmly, as well as a warmth creeping up your neck up to your cheeks as you liked he wanted an excuse to meet up. You wanted the same, very much so. 

You then pulled out the second item, the velvet bag inside the parcel.

As Levi would have said ‘Close your mouth honey, you look like a trout.’ with how wide your jaw dropped when you realized the pendant inside. 

You looked and read the passage about the significance and meaning behind the pendant. Tears welled up and a few streamed down as you read through the remainder of the postcard, lightly chuckling to yourself at his closing remark about praying away the bugs.

The thought and sincerity behind the symbol alone was enough to make you want to sob tears of joy. 

No one, and you meant it, no one, in years, made you feel this seen. This cared for.. or given you even an ounce of genuine sincerity without wanting something in return. 

All Joel wanted was your time. He wanted to get to know you more from what this felt like. He wanted to make you happy and feel safe, at least that’s what acts like this made you feel. 

You felt nothing but warmth by this gesture.

You took the pendant and put it around your neck, wearing it proudly and feeling ten times lighter with it on. 

You looked back at the rest of the group, wanting to stay in this moment by yourself and Joel just a little longer. They were all still head deep in their mail, you smiled as you turned back around and opened the letter excitedly, almost ripping with your eagerness. 

“Shit…” you giggled to yourself at how giddy you felt. 

You pulled out the letter first then pulled out the photo inside and immediately smiled brighter seeing Joel’s smile. 

You traced your fingers over the photo and chuckled at Sarah’s goofy smile, wondering what the context of the photo is between the two of them.

You set the photo down and began reading the letter. 

You felt nothing but comfort and security by his words of support. 

‘In this case, sweetheart, you are 100% wrong about being alone. You’ve got me now. Right?’

You felt the warmth of your blushing immediately hit your cheeks and your cheeks started to hurt by how much you were smiling when reading over the term of endearment, sweetheart. 

You smiled and nodded, thinking to yourself, ‘Yeah, I’ve got you now..’

You read the part about his grandfather carefully, taking in each detail he shared with you, appreciating his openness and vulnerability, sharing details about Sarah’s mother as well. 

You smiled more reading how Sarah took the photo and asked to send it to you, but then chuckled reading how the Polaroid intimidates Joel. You imagined him not being the most tech savvy person and that made you chuckle more. 

You blushed deeply and you felt a tug at your heart when he brought up texting when you got home, and nodded to yourself, you’d like that too. Hell, you’d love to keep up the letters as well. It could be your thing, together. 

You continued reading, making mental notes of what questions to reply back to him in your next letter.. especially concerning the rocking chair, you would love to share your opinion with him.

You got to the part he scribbled out and looked confused, ‘Did he spell something wrong?’ you chuckled lightly as he was someone who never had typo’s or scribbles in his letters so far. You tried to decipher what it could have said holding it close to your eyes.

Then you then held it up to the desk light and as clear day it read,

“I was also wondering if you’d be open to Skype.. ” 

You thanked God that Maria wasn’t around to see the stupid fucking smile you wore on your face right now, she’d never let you hear the end of it.

You put your hand over your mouth shyly to hide the excitement you wore across your face. If any of the other 2 dipshits saw how giddy you were over a letter from your ‘pen pal’, like Maria, they’d never shut up. 

You traced your finger over the part and thought to yourself ‘Maybe he thought it was too forward? Too soon?’ You shrugged unbothered because to you, it was sweet he didn’t want to be too forward. It felt very gentlemanly, something you have never had or experienced. It made you feel special, respected.  

It also didn’t matter because in your next letter you would ask him, rip the band aid off for the both of you. 

You read the last little bit of the letter and let out a laugh louder than you would have liked at his last line about the Broncos, Vikings and Cowboys. Alerting the others and popping your little bubble prematurely for your liking.

Maria zoned in like a shark smelling blood in the water at that kind laugh. “What? What’s so funny?” she stood up, and started walking over to you, smiling. 

You quickly cleared your throat and folded the letter up, “Oh uh.. Joel just said something about football that was funny.” you hoped to God she wouldn’t pick up on anything else. 

She smiled and hummed in acknowledgement. She then went to walk back to her spot but then stopped and turned back towards you, looking at your necklace, “That’s new..” 

It was then where you saw all the stupid damn dots connect in her head and smirked like the Grinch did when he plots to steal Christmas, “That’s new, as in the parcel from Joel, new..” she chuckled lowly and then crept back over, giddy as hell. 

You turned bright red and grabbed the necklace in your fist to try and hide it, feeling exposed and caught red handed, “Maria stop it..” you whispered and chuckled trying to defuse how red you felt. 

She laughed softly, slightly enjoying watching you squirm. She then grabbed your arm and lightly shook you a little, like the cuteness aggression took over her, then she stopped and whispered to you, “Ok… I’ll stop if you tell me everything when we are away from these two dipshits… and I mean everything.” she nodded to the necklace.

You looked over her shoulder at Terrance and Reggie, who were distracted by pages of Playboy they must’ve had a buddy mail to them. You chuckled and shook your head at how ‘boyish’ they could be. You looked back at Maria, “Fine, but we listen and we don’t judge or tease…” 

She pondered for half a second, “I can’t fully agree with the no teasin’ part, but I won’t judge.” she stuck her hand out for you to shake in agreement. 

You rolled your eyes and smiled “Fine.” you grabbed her hand and shook it, “Now drop it for now.” 

She smiled and nodded “Deal. Lips are sealed.” she winked. 

Previous chapter - Next Chapter

taglist: @sarahhxx03 , @blahkateisdone , @sunnytuliptime , @herebriefly

[666jevil]

Broken hearts make it rain

[beetlethebug]

consider,,,a lucanis who is in love with emmrich, a spite who is in love with rook, a rook in love with emmrich, and emmrich who is in love with all three but wants lucanis, spite, and rook to get together because he feels he is not the type of man any of them deserve...

bonus points for spite being the one to realize just what sort of love quadrilateral is going on and is the one to get them all together.

[milo-is-rambling]

I forget how much I hate the taste of vodka but the whipped cream vodka is so much better my god

[talaok]

Giving up

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Summary: Coaxing your neighbor into having sex with you although he's unsure since he's much, much older than you

Warnings: big ass unspecified age-gap, Jackson!Joel is a softie Smut| unprotected piv, crempie, insicure!joel, sub!joel, also my man has trouble lasting cause he's not done this in a very long time.

a/n:i needed to write some cheesy romantic stuff, and maybe it doesn't really make all that sense in this story and maybe i cried while writing this cause no one is ever gonna love me like this but so what bitch leave me alone (i also am i lil tipsy as i proofread this, so ignore any mistakes pls)

Part 1

"did you do something to your hair?"

Tommy was standing on Joel's doorstep, looking at him as if he were an alien.

"I washed 'em" he grumbled, "what do you want?"

His brother couldn't help but huff out a laugh

"someone's in a good mood today"

"I've gotta be somewhere, just tell me what you want"

Tommy's interest was only piqued more.

there stood his brother, his clothes perfectly clean- maybe even ironed- his hair... styled, his beard trimmed...

something was definitely going on.

"Where are you going?"

Joel rolled his eyes now, shooting his little brother a death glare

"none of your business"

Oh he knew what was going on...

"Who is she?"

"Tommy-"

"Is it Jessica? I bet 's Jessica, she's always flirting with you you ol' dog-"

Joel swore he was gonna punch him- he was already running late because of how long he took to pick his clothes- finding a flannel that wasn't completely worn out turned out to be real fucking hard.

He felt stupid for how much effort he'd put into getting ready, he felt stupid for how anxious he was, but most of all... he wanted his brother to go away.

"There ain't no one, Tommy- now, if there ain't anything you need, please go-"

But just then- just when he was finally going to get rid of him, your sweet, soft voice made its way to his ears.

"Hi Joel! Hi Tommy!" You smiled from your porch, waving your hand at him and his brother "You didn't forget about today, did you Joel?"

What in the actual fuck?

Tommy did a double-check, looking between you and his brother, and when he finally confirmed that it was actually him you were talking to, you whom he'd gotten all dolled up for, he couldn't do anything but let out a slow, long breath.

"No I didn't- I'll be there in a minute, darlin'!" Joel was answering you as his brother regained his ability to speak

"well... Fuck. Me" he was in awe, his voice barely a murmur

"it ain't like that" Joel was quick to intervene "'m just fix-"

"'m sure it ain't" Tommy let out a chuckle, his hand going to pat his brother's back "You fucking lucky bastard"

"Tommy I know she's young bu-"

"shut up man" he laughed "Just go have fun, you asshole"

__ __

"Sorry 'm late, Tommy was just-"

You smiled at his words, shaking your head

"It's ok, Joel" you cooed as you let him in,

He gave you a soft little smile, and you felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

Joel Miller didn't smile just at anyone.

"water?" you asked, leading him to the kitchen.

"Uhm- sure"

His heart was damn near beating out of his chest already- for no fucking reason at all.

Well except the obvious one... you'd sucked his dick and he'd eaten you out three days ago- and you'd made it clear you wanted more.

Jesus Christ, he felt like a fourteen-year-old with his first crush.

You watched him as he sipped on the glass.

"So?" a soft smirk was caged between your teeth "Did you think about it?"

He damn near choked.

Which didn't make any sense, he was expecting this, he already knew you'd ask.

He cleared his throat, diverting his eyes from you "I-I have"

"And?"

You'd gotten closer, your expectant eyes studying every inch of his face

pleasepleasepleaseplease say yes

"Did- didn't you have something that needed fixing?"

Oh for fuck's sake

"joel" you called for him in what almost sounded like a plead.

"darlin' just... lemme fix your cabinet first"

This man was gonna be the goddamn death of you.

"ok"

__ __ __

As it turns out, in many different ways.

Who knew watching him fix something would turn out to be so fucking hot?

He'd rolled his shirt up so that his strong forearms and a glimpse of his beautiful bite-worthy biceps were showing, his hands moved so very expertly that they couldn't help but bring back memories of what those same fingers had done to you just a few days ago, and his face... he looked so hot when he was all in his head, concentrated only on the task before him-

or so you thought.

"You're gonna stare at me the whole time?"

A soft laugh escaped your lips

"don't mind me- just enjoying the view"

He huffed out a laugh as he went back to work, but you couldn't help but notice the fact he pushed his sleeves ever further up his arms, giving you more of a view of his delectable skin.

What a tease

__ __ __

"there we go" he said after some time, opening and closing the cabinet one final time to make sure "all done"

For the record, this time you hadn't even done it on purpose, the cabinet had actually broken. It was like fate was sending you a message.

You awakened from your daydreams as he stood up to his full height, and hopped off the stool you were sitting on to walk closer to him, noticing some dampness in your panties while doing so...

It wasn't your fault... he was the one looking way too hot doing such a simple task.

"thank you" You smiled up at him, your hands going to his chest,

He held his breath for a moment

"'s nothing babygirl"

"yeah? then... you think you could check my bedroom too?" you were biting your lip in a way that made your question take on a whole different meaning "to make sure nothing needs fixing y'know?"

"In your... bedroom?"

"yes, Joel- please" you added, with your best innocent doe eyes.

Which of course made him fold in a matter of seconds.

You'd taken on a different tactic. It was obvious at this point that the man was too shy and too unsure to give you an answer (or the one you wanted to hear anyway), which is why you needed to present him with the actual possibility right in front of him.

And yeah maybe it was manipulative, but fuck it if you didn't wanna feel the man inside of you.

The flashbacks of what he did to you on that bed filled his mind the moment he stepped into the room.

He needed to get a grip or he wouldn't be able to hide his growing bulge in a minute.

"Everything seems right"

"yeah? 'm not sure about the bed" you hummed, desperately hoping he would just go along with it "it makes a weird sound when I get on it"

He turned to you then, his eyes locking with yours for an infinite second.

"try" you said finally, nodding to the bed.

He watched you for a moment longer before, surprising you, he did it- he sat on the bed.

The mattress creaked underneath his weight, and you made quick work of strolling closer to him as he pressed his palms on the bed, checking for the inexistent "weird sound"

"it don't look like there's anythin' wron-" he looked up the moment your hands found his shoulders "Whatcha doin'? sweethear-"

You were sat on his lap before he could even finish the sentence.

"Joel" you spoke his name softly, as if it were a caress, your hands slowly moving up and down from his shoulders to his pecs, as you finally scooted closer to him so your core was right against the hardness in his jeans-

He inhaled sharply, his fingers curling on the bed.

"would you like to have sex with me or not?"

You accentuated your words with a slow roll of your hips, grinding onto him and making a soft groan build inside his throat

"this- this ain't really fair sugar"

A smirk pulled at your lips as you lowered your head to whisper in his ear "I never said I didn't play dirty, Mr. Miller"

Your right hand trailed lower, moving down his belly so slowly that Joel thought he might just lose his mind.

"You're y-young baby-"

Your hand had found his crotch, the outline of his dick fitting in your hand oh so perfectly.

"we've gone over this already Joel, I'm old enough" you purred, your lips leaving a peck just below his ear "old enough to do many many things"

He cursed under his breath

"I just... I don't understand"

A breathy laugh escaped you

"there's not much to understand really" you murmured "You're hot, and I like you, and I wanna get in your pants"

That earned you a chuckle

"and you're sure you won't regret this?" he asked, "you sure this is what you really want- that- that you don't want to give a boy your age a chance instead of me?"

You smiled as you looked up at him,

you'd never met a man so sweet

"Joel, I promise you I'm sure" you whispered "I promise you this is what I want, you are what I want"

Fucking damn it

How could he ever say no after that?

With those gentle eyes of yours looking at him, with your hand right over his cock...

"So?"

He was gonna think about the consequences tomorrow. Now- now there was only you.

"yes"

That single word sounded better than any song you'd ever heard.

yes

Your lips were on his before he could even think of changing his mind- and god did they feel like a dream.

His soft stubble grazed against your cheeks and upper lip, as you deepened the kiss, as he opened up to you, closing his eyes only after he'd taken you in, only after he could admire all that was happening to him for some godforsaken reason.

A growl rumbled from his chest when your core found his dick again, grinding onto it in a way, that combined with the way your tongue was tasting every inch of him, was making him see stars.

He didn't think he'd kissed like this in 30 years,

making out seemed like such a distant thing from him, he was much too old to do something like this, and yet... everything about you made him feel like a teenager all over again, so perhaps it was fitting-

and god he had forgotten how amazing it felt.

You started undoing his flannen, not even dreaming of breaking the kiss, and once you opened his shirt up, once his big strong chest was right there before you, you just had to look at it.

You leaned away, his lips chasing yours making you smile as your gaze lowered.

Jesus, he was the hottest man you'd ever seen.

Some hair and freckles adorned his pecs, his little belly was ever so cutely fighting against his jeans- his skin was soft beneath your palms as they explored every inch they could reach.

He was looking at you, watching your blow-out eyes, wondering what potion you'd drank to be this mesmerized by what he had to offer.

You smiled once you caught him, leaning closer to leave a quick kiss on his lips.

"take off your clothes"

You got off of him, and once he saw you get rid of your shirt, your boobs pushed together by a simple black bra that somehow, at the moment, seemed like the sexiest thing in the world, he rushed to follow suit, nearly tripping getting off his pants.

The moment he looked at you again, the world- the universe, it all went quiet.

You stood naked before him, a soft, perfect little thing, looking like a damn dream.

"babygirl" he could only breathe as you reached him again.

"What?" you laughed

"I-I don't even know"

You shook your head, grinning from ear to ear as he pressed his mouth on yours again.

He was already addicted.

In a haze, you found yourself on the bed, your body caged beneath his, his tongue fighting with yours, his hands all over- You almost had the urge to laugh at how desperate he seemed, how frantically he was touching every inch of you, exploring every piece of skin-

His hands were on your tits, fingers gently playing with your nipples, then on your belly, your waist, your ass, your thighs, until finally, he found your core, but before he had the time to fully reach it you'd switched up with him, straddling his lap as he laid flat on his back... only he couldn't keep away for even a second and he immediately sat up, grabbing your waist.

He couldn't even begin to complain that you'd already grabbed his cock, positioning it at your entrance.

You couldn't wait anymore- you needed him now.

"Wait-" he murmured, his breathing labored already "you sure you're... y'know ready?"

Oh my god, you swore you were gonna fall for him if he kept this shit up.

"Joel" you smiled, looking into his big brown eyes "I've been wet since you fixed the cabinet"

"I-" he blushed "You-you sure?"

You didn't answer him, you simply took one of his hands in yours and guided him to feel just how much you were telling the truth.

"Fuck"

"yeah" you smirked "that's just what you do to me, Mr. Miller"

Jesus fuck

Joel didn't think his cock had ever been so hard.

You didn't give him time to do or say anything- he'd gathered that's how you did things by now- as you slowly, oh so very slowly, started sinking onto him.

He was big, the kind of big you'd be feeling tomorrow morning. The stretch hurt just right, so overwhelmed by the unadulterated pleasure that it was barely there.

Soft little moaned gasps spilled from your lips with every inch added, your eyes were closed, only focusing on the extraordinary feeling as your nails clawed at Joel's chest.

Until, finally- you'd done it. You were fully sat on his cock, and while your eyelids fluttered open, you regained your ability to hear- to hear the curses leaving Joel's mouth between ragged breaths

"Jesus Christ- Jesus fucking Christ- Goddamnit"

His grip on your waist was so tight you were sure it was gonna leave a bruise... not that you were complaining.

"you ok?"

His eyes were shut close and creases of effort filled his forehead, while his chest went up and down as he desperately tried to breathe.

"Joel?"

He swallowed tightly, now breathing in through his nose before exhaling from his mouth.

"d-don't move"

You smiled as you promised "I won't"

God this was fucking embarrassing.

He'd spent three days training.

And yes he wasn't sure he would have said yes, but still, better safe than sorry- except for the fact it clearly hadn't worked.

He had spent three days fucking his own fist and trying to last as much as possible and he did do progress... but this... this was fucking nothing like what he'd felt in the last twenty years.

He was so fucked

"I-I'm sorry" he gritted out, sounding almost defeated "I- I haven't done this in a long time darlin'"

"And you... you feel so fuckin' good- fuck"

Your walls had inadvertently squeezed around him at his words, making a groan rumble in his chest.

"You have nothing to apologize for Joel"

he would have told you that your voice was making everything worse if he weren't so preoccupied with trying to calm his dick down.

"take all the time you need"

And so he did, his eyes remained closed as he breathed through the initial shock, until finally, after what felt like an eternity, he was back.

He had to stifle a moan once he opened his eyes back up.

There you were, your beautiful eyes trained on his with such gentleness and care that it made where his gaze fell to feel even more sinful.

Your boobs were barely touching his chest, and yet they could have been in his face for the effect they had on him- his hands were on your waist, holding onto your soft flesh, your thighs were straddling his lap, giving him no choice but to finally look between your bodies, where you two connected.

"Darlin'" he murmured, hypnotized

You smiled, watching him admiring you in silence

"You look..."

Every word that came to mind wasn't enough, you were otherwordly, you were perfection... so he just settled on the simplest, and perhaps truest of them all.

"you're beautiful"

Your cheeks burned with heat as his gaze came back to yours.

"so are you, Joel"

And that was that.

His lips found yours again, and you couldn't stop your hips as they started moving, rocking back and forth and bringing little waves of ecstasy to your core.

A desperate moan spilled from yours to Joel's mouth as he grabbed the back of your head, forcing you into an even deeper kiss as he started following your movements.

Your hands went to the back of his neck, grabbing at the hair at the nape of it as you finally started bouncing on his dick, and god- god it was even better than you could have ever imagined

The loudest growl sounded from his throat as you worked yourself up and down on his shaft.

He was in another universe, his actions were only reflexes as the hand not tangled in your hair found your tits and then your ass, grabbing at it with tenderness and need.

"Oh Joel" you cried, his dick filling you up better than anything ever before.

You could quite literally feel him in your stomach, every little vein and ridge of skin creating a permanent dent inside of you that only he was ever gonna be able to fill.

"sweetheart- fuck" he groaned on his own, your breaths mixing as you ghosted each other's mouths, his eyes raking over your body and face, while yours couldn't help but roll to the back of your head as his manhood hit a particularly good spot.

"You feel so- good Joel" you whimpered mindlessly, now quickening your pace, desperation taking over you completely.

the sound of him entering your drenched core mixed with the bed creaking underneath you as you drove yourself closer and closer to heaven.

The sound of his name falling from your lips was something that filled Joel's chest with an indescribable feeling, he felt on top of the word, and at the same time... at the same time he wished it had never left your mouth because it was now forever imprinted in his brain, and he knew nothing was ever gonna compare to it.

Oh and also- also it was making his little lasting problem real fucking hard to control.

But he was nothing if not a gentleman,

You were gonna come, he wasn't gonna have it any other way.

His hand lowered down your belly as you kept chasing your release, looking like a damn glimpse of paradise, until his thumb found your clit.

"Oh fuck" you moaned, your eyes snapping open to look at him- a dark glaze of lust shading your iris.

Joel realized too late that he hadn't taken into account how fucking tight you'd get, and was now really paying the consequences.

Plus when you looked at him like that... maybe just this one time he could not be a gentleman- I mean it's not like he had much choice, he was trying his hardest but- shit

"darlin'" he mumbled, his thumb circling your bud "w-where do ya- where do ya want it?"

You moaned louder just at the thought of him coming

"Inside"

It wasn't even a question

"N-no sweetheart I-I shouldn-"

"Joel" you interrupted him, your lips grazing his as you talked, your grip on his hair tightening "I want you to fill me up until I can feel you leaking out of me for days"

Good Christ and heaven

"Fuck me" he cursed, all his strength going on not coming right there and then "Darlin' please- tell me you're close"

You were already seeing stars as he spoke

"I'm close, baby- oh fuck" you cried "Joel!"

A tsunami of lust-filled pleasure coursed through your veins as your orgasm hit like a damn truck.

You couldn't even remember your name as you screamed his own into the thick air, as you moaned and cried and spasmed around him, feeling him do exactly what you'd asked- filling you up to the very brim.

He'd started coming the moment you did- he couldn't do anything about it, it was just unadulterated perfection-

His head fell between your neck and shoulders as groaned like a man possessed,

until finally, after a good three minutes, you were both back to the land of the living.

He looked twenty years younger when he looked at you again, and you- you looked like the most beautiful woman on earth.

A soft smile pulled at your lips, and you couldn't help but ask "How long before we can do it again?"

And fuck him, but his age didn't matter, with those eyes of yours, it might very well be minutes.

@kluvspedro @bluebiyou @casssiopeia @bean-is-reading @millerispunk @i-cant-stfu

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

“Agatha can’t control her powers and kills a bunch of people, this explains why Death is in love with her because it means she gets more bodies” No.

No no no.

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers and the first time someone blasted her with their magic they died right in front of her and she was only seven years old and terrified and alone until suddenly there was a small little girl across from her who gently took her hand and told her it was okay”

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers and had a tantrum, purple exploding out of her, but the other witch was too fast and Agatha blinked and they were dead on the ground and she scrambled back against the wall, curling up into a little ball and shaking, shaking, shaking, until someone just as young and soft as her stroked her hair back and told her they knew it was an accident”

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers and was beaten and bruised by her mother until she couldn’t take it anymore and ran off into the woods and was blasted by someone who thought she was a witch hunter, and she didn’t even realize what was happening until it was too late. Agatha climbing into a tree and scraping her cheek and trembling as she stared at the lifeless witch, something rattling deep inside of her that sounded like a stranger’s voice. And then the stranger appearing through the thick, standing over the dead body and instantly looking up, looking for Agatha. Finding her in the tree and climbing in with her. Smoothing a thumb across her cheek until it didn’t sting anymore”

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers and any spell she tries goes haywire, the final teacher that swore she could fix her grey and lifeless on the floor as Agatha sat up on the kitchen table and just stared and stared, tears falling, always falling, until that familiar face appeared through the bedroom doorway, watching Agatha, not the woman, and threaded their fingers together. Guided her to cracked, dusty skin and forced her to feel it, hand pressing hers into dead flesh and murmuring ‘exceptional’ under her breath before explaining every single step of reaping a soul. Talking and talking until Agatha wasn’t crying anymore, until she couldn’t remember why she had been upset in the first place”

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers but she also couldn’t control her temper, and suddenly half of a coven was dead before her, barely eighteen years old, and then the girl, also freshly a woman, the closest thing she knew to having a friend, sliding up behind her and placing a hand on her shoulder, wiping her tears away. Shushing her pleas of ‘why can’t I control it? Why do I ruin everything I touch?’ with soft murmurs of ‘there’s nothing wrong with you. You didn’t kill them. They simply… bent to your power.’”

I need “Agatha can’t control her powers but she sure as hell tried, until she was tied to a stake and her coven fell at her feet and her mother crumpled before her, hellbent until the moment she died to punish Agatha for things she had never meant to do. Agatha, with her grief and her relief and her freedom, finally, somehow still sobbing over her mother’s death, curled up far away and safe in the woods. Safe until Death came for her, hands cupping her face too tenderly, too delicately, and forced Agatha to meet her eyes. Death, who had somehow become the only one to ever show her mercy and kindness and compassion, leaning her forehead against hers and whispering ‘it’s okay. I am so proud of you.” Death leaning in so, so hesitantly and pressing the smallest kiss to her mouth. Breaths hitching. Eyes meeting. Long, loaded stares and trembling fingers and Death herself smiling at Agatha like she actually meant it. Agatha fisting her cloak and yanking her closer and letting Death suck the air right out of her lungs, and Agatha somehow living anyway”

That’s what I need.

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Monster You Know

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Synopsis: For your own safety, the strongest sorcerer of today kidnaps you.

Word Count: 6.9k

(Warnings: implied masturbation, implied nsfw, implied noncon recording, death of a minor character.....im pretty sure i missed a warning so lemme know any pls)

Instead of waking up in a bed, you find yourself on the floor.

It's not a comfortable spot to sleep in. The carpet is clean, but it's odd because you don't have this type of carpet in your room. Actually, this isn't your room at all. 

But the panic doesn't really set in until you realize your arms are bound. 

You don't notice him until he speaks. You're too busy yanking on the metal, pulling your hand as hard as you could. The cuffs don't even budge. 

"If you keep yanking your arms like that, you might break 'em." 

He's tall, rivaling the door he just walked through. He looks a couple of years older than you, but his white hair can't be natural, not at his age. His blue eyes are lax. The worst part is how relaxed he looks. He has an eased posture and a pretty smile. He's amused, watching you like you’re a pesky mouse trapped in a bucket. 

You don’t know him. You’re stuck in an unfamiliar room, chained to the floor, and you don’t know this man. 

Escape isn’t possible. So you resort to the next best thing: you plead. 

“Who are you?” Your voice is light and wavers on every syllable. “Where-Where am I? Did you bring me here? Please don’t-“

”You always this talkative in the morning?” He dodges your question with a lax grin. “Anyway, uh, sorry about this-“ he gestures to your tied-up form “-I would've used a talisman, but those won’t work on you for obvious reasons. The handcuffs aren’t too tight, are they?” 

He steps closer, and you scream. It’s shrill, filled with a type of fear that makes your blood freeze because you don’t know this man, you don’t know where you are, and he’s getting closer. 

“Okay okay, I get it!” He manages to say over your pleas for help, but he steps back, and it’s enough to quiet your fear. “Obviously, you need some more time alone, so I’m gonna give you a couple more hours. Feel free to take a mint!” He cheerily points to the nightstand. 

He leaves as quickly as he enters. The door shuts but doesn’t lock. You’d be relieved if you weren’t still incapacitated. 

You look around the room. Nothing of value, nothing that you could reach and grab. Apart from a chair, the only other pieces of furniture were a heavy-looking bed and a bolted-down nightstand. Your kidnapper was certainly meticulous. 

The restraints have just enough slack for you to lean over. You peer at the nightstand. A plastic bowl, too flimsy to be made into a weapon. It contains wrapped-white candies. You gingerly pick one up. 

They’re sugar-free. 

He returns to the mints scattered all over the floor. 

“Okay.” He notes, gracefully stepping over the mess. “Clearly, you aren’t a fan of peppermint. 'you a wintergreen kinda’ person?” 

You don’t look at him. You’ve been in the same position you had been in for hours, sitting curled on the floor. By then, your desperation was starting to show through. 

“Please just let me go.” You mutter, your voice so low, it’s a miracle he can hear you. “I don’t have any money. I have nothing to offer.”

”Well, that’s good because I don’t want your money.” He says. “I know this looks pretty bad, but this is for your sake more than mine.”

You look at him just as he squats down to your height. You shift away. he smiles.

”Do you know what sorcerer's are?” 

You blink. 

“It’s fine if you don’t; we all start somewhere, right? A sorcerer is someone who can manipulate cursed energy. I’m a sorcerer! I don’t wanna brag too much, but I’m pretty good at it.” 

He laughs like he’s telling a joke, and you suddenly realize that you were kidnapped by someone who believes he’s a wizard. 

“Guess you’re still lost, huh? How about I just show you instead?” He points to an ironed-out shirt hanging on a rack. You follow his finger. 

He didn't move. There was no machinery. The shirt just crinkled by itself before it dropped to the floor. 

You gape. The man grins. 

"Pretty amazing, right? That's cursed energy, or, my power if you wanna be less technical." 

"Cursed energy." You whisper, a repetition of his words rather than any actual understanding. He beams regardless. 

"Yeah! Well, it's a little more complicated than that, but let's just start with the basics for now. Baby steps." 

Your dread doesn't fade. Earlier, you feared what a man could do to you, tied and defenseless. Now, you wondered what this man wouldn't do to you. 

"Okay, then....why?" You warily ask him. "Why tell me any of this? What's the point?" 

"An excellent question!" He commends you, as though he were your teacher and not your jailor. "See, cursed energy is a bit complicated, but it's extremely effective. In almost every case, it's the solution. Except for you." 

You shrink back. 

"What-what does that mean?"

His grin turns feline. He's enjoying this; seeing you shake, waver beneath his eyes. 

"Exactly what I said: you aren't affected by cursed energy. A sorcerer could use their technique on you, and there won't even be a scratch on your body. You're basically the Eraserhead of the Jujutsu World." 

You stare at him. He hums, drumming his fingers on his thigh. 

"I'm not great at explanations. How about we just have a hands-on experience?" 

He extends his hands. A purple orb crackles to life, slowly gaining mass. 

"Not too big," he says, though it's clear he isn't speaking to you, "don't wanna wreck the room." 

He adjusts his angle so it's facing you. Your eyes widen, and the desperation to wrangle yourself out of the handcuffs grows stronger. 

"Wait, stop!" You pleads fall on deaf ears. "Okay okay. I believe you. I believe you-" He flicks his fingers. You close your eyes just before impact. 

You expected something. Electricity, a shock. Pain. Your body being eviscerated in milliseconds. 

Nothing. Not even a gust of wind. 

When your eyes open, he's grinning at you. 

"See?" He says, "Not even a scratch." 

He's right. Your clothes aren't even rustled, but the evidence is there. The carpet below you is shaved and cleaned off. And the wall closest to you has cracks on it.

You look back up at him. 

"I said I believed you." 

He shrugs. "Doesn't hurt to make sure we're on the same page." His smile is starting to look less scary and more annoying. 

Your mind still struggles to keep up with all the information you've been given. The typhoon of anxiety is coursing through you. 

"So, then....why this?" You mention to the handcuffs. 

"Just a little confirmation you won't go crazy and destroy the place." He supplies happily. "If jujutsu doesn't work on you, then bindings and talismans definitely won't do a thing. Looking back, abduction probably wasn't the greatest idea in the world. I would've figured something else out, but time wasn't on our side in this case. Especially if we wanted you alive." 

You pale at that. He notices. 

"What, you thought I'd be the only person who noticed you? You're an anomaly. In our world, that's dangerous. Also, the bounty on your head is a pretty nice incentive for people to get the job done." 

"A bounty?"

He grins, and the number he gives makes your mouth hang open. 

"Yup, pretty crazy, right? Anyway, until everything settles down, you and I are roomies!" He claps. "Isn't that exciting!?" 

You glance at him. Then, in the room. Then, at your cuffs. Everything was going so fast. The only constant was him. 

"So, I'm not really a prisoner?" You ask. "I could just...leave, right?" 

"Sure you could. If you hear all that and still wanna go, I won't stop you. Promise." He nods. "But you'd be dead as soon as you step out of the apartment." 

It's not a threat. It's a promise. And not from him. That makes it worse. 

This is insane. All of this is insane; who'd believe any of it? But his powers....that can't be faked. As well as everything that he told you. Why would he lie? What reason could he have to deceive you? 

"Okay," you say hesitantly, "just one more thing." 

The man leans in. 

"What's your name?" 

He smiles. 

Becoming Gojo's roommate was an easy transition. 

You’ve always been someone who goes with the flow. Becoming someone's consenting captive isn't a struggle once you get used to it. A few days in and you and your 'captor' have fallen into an easy rhythm. It's easy to grow trusting of him, especially when there are others who can vouch for him. 

"You should be arrested." Ieiri mumbles, checking your wrists. 

"What? I can't believe you're upset with me." Gojo responds though he doesn't sound very panicked. "I was desperate!" 

Ieiri shakes her head, continuing wrapping your wrists. Amid your panic during the first few hours in Gojo's apartment, you managed to sprain your wrists, trying to yank yourself out of the handcuffs. You wince when she presses on your bruised skin. 

"Sorry," she says, voice flat. You smile anyway. 

Ieiri was also a sorcerer, but she had a different technique. Instead of Gojo's destruction, hers revolved around healing. You've never really seen it in action ("My technique won't work on you; even then, it's a sprained wrist. You'll live."), but it sounded pretty powerful. 

"I'm not upset." Ieiri continues. "But I'm surprised you're going along with all this." That sentence is directed at you. 

You shrug while trying to keep still for her. "He was pretty convincing." 

Ieiri raises a brow, before ultimately deciding she doesn't care. 

"Again, I'm very sorry about all this." Ijichi pipes up. Ever since he entered Gojo's flat, he's been doing nothing but begging for your forgiveness for Gojo's abrupt actions. Apologetic, but not very shocked. You're assuming this isn't the first time Gojo has done something like this. 

Gojo's allies were very different from each other, you ultimately decided. 

“We thought we’d have more time to approach you,” he continues with a nervous smile, “we never expected the clans to move so quickly.” 

“Clans?” You ask, “What clans?” 

Ijichi gives Gojo a look. Gojo looks away, whistling. Eventually, Ijichi’s shoulders drop. 

“Some minor clans with dwindling jujitsu sorcerers.” He gives. “And then the bounty happened and well…” he trails off. 

You nod. “So, when will everything go back to normal?”

Gojo grins. Ieiri sighs. It’s Ijichi who gives the most concrete response. 

You look at the three of them. “Or will things ever go back to normal?”

”It’s hard to say,” Ijichi says, “news travels fast in the jujutsu world, but it’s not improbable. Miyashiro will let us know eventually.” 

"Miyashiro?” 

To answer your question, Ijichi pulls out his phone. You stare at a picture of yourself. But you know you’ve never been in that restaurant before. 

“It’s his technique.” Ijichi tells you. “Flesh manipulation. For the time being, Miyashiro will pose as you and can hopefully air out any potential bounty hunters. He’s the perfect man for the job.” 

You nod, a bit skeptical. “Isn’t this a bit dangerous? Aren’t people trying to kill me?” 

Ijichi tucks away his phone. “Miyashiro is one our best. He'll be fine.” He assures. 

Satisfied with your answers, you nod. Ieiri pulls away after she finishes wrapping your hand. Gojo claps his hands together. 

“See, roomie? You’re in great hands!” He chirps. You nod, if only to seem compliant. 

Apart from Gojo himself, Ieiri and Ijichi are the only ones who know about your predicament, his most trusted people. The rest of the world is unaware that there's someone posing as you, nor that you've gone into hiding. Not your friends. Not even your family. ("It's for the best," Ijichi explained when you voiced your worries, "but we promise, once the bounty is down, we'll return you back to your life. It'll be like nothing ever happened.").

Settling in barely takes a week. Gojo's nice enough to lend you his room, more than happy to set up in the living room. Despite how you two 'met', he's quickly proven to be a nice guy. 

Nice. Just nice. 

To be honest, you don't know all that much about Gojo. He's letting you stay in his home, but you don't see him all that much. Gojo is gone pretty much all day. Sometimes, he's gone for days on end. The apartment feels more like yours than his. 

"I'm the strongest." He told you when you asked. You don't know what he means by that, so you didn't pry. 

Despite the awkwardness, you don't mind the distant relationship. The man probably has his day packed with hunting down demons and this school he talked about. 

The change doesn't happen until two weeks after you move in. 

You weren't allowed to have a phone, nor any internet access, so you mostly spent your time doing hobbies. You've always wanted to learn to crochet, and now you finally had time to actually learn. Drawing also took some hours out of your day. And eventually, you moved onto cooking. 

Ijichi was more than happy to grab you the grocery items when you asked. When you insisted on paying him back, he declined profusely. He was actually the one who organized getting your things and really moving you in. You have another thing you owe these people. 

Cooking was a steep learning curve. Before, you'd only made simple sandwiches and curries, so the food starting out wasn't the best. But you enjoyed the journey more, rather than the end result. Pretty soon, you became pretty good at it. 

Gojo wasn't home often these days, so you jump when the front door clicks open. He takes off that blindfold he's always wearing, blinking a couple times before his blue gaze settles on you in the kitchen. 

"What's all this?" He cocks his head. He isn't smiling. 

Oh no. You remembered getting permission to use his kitchen, but maybe he hadn't expected you to go this far? The kitchen is a mess. There's flour everywhere. You still hadn't washed the cutting board, nor the knives. 

"I'm sorry," you say, "I-I can clean up and-" 

He waves his hand. "It's fine. I'm not mad, I just..." He drifts off. 

You suddenly have a feeling that you might've misread this entire situation. 

"Would you like some?" You ask. "I think I made too much." 

"I could eat," he says.

You smile. 

A few moments later, the two of you are settled on the table. Gojo's never been so quiet before. In the short time you've known him, he's always been boisterous and playful. Now, he's silent. Staring at the food. 

You hold your breath when he takes his first bite. 

"It's good." He says, his mouth full. It's cute. "Really, really good. Damn." 

You laugh out of nerves. 

"You think so? I'm glad! It was my first time trying out this recipe and I wasn't sure if it'd turn out well and..." you're rambling, you know that. You can't help yourself. 

"No, it's good. Real good," he says. It's silent again, but not as uncomfortable this time. The only thing you hear is the clanking of silverware and the hum of the lights. Outside the window, the city lights twinkle. 

You're on your last bite when he speaks again. 

"'been a while since I've had a homecooked meal." He starts with a slight laugh. "Kinda' forgot what it's like." 

You think of the fridge. How it was only ever stacked with protein shakes and instant meals. Gojo was a sorcerer. The strongest. You think you get what that means now. 

"I wouldn't mind doing this more often," you say. 

He looks at you with the prettiest blue you've ever seen. The color of a bright cloudless sky. 

"I think I'd like that." 

Who ever said the phrase 'the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach' was onto something. Your friendship with Gojo bloomed after that night. On the seldom nights he came home, dinner was made and sitting on the table. It took a few days for the two of you to warm up enough to talk to each other. Once Gojo got going, it was a lot harder to shut him up. He talked about his school, his work as a teacher for other jujutsu sorcerers. You liked the way he talked about his students. Nothing but pride and affection .

On the nights he didn't come home, you'd save the leftovers in the fridge. They were usually gone by the morning. 

He was around a lot more after that night. Not that you minded, it was his house. You just didn't get a few things about him. For example, that blindfold of his. Why wear it when it was clear he couldn't see with it on? 

You decide to bring it up the third time he nearly runs you over.

"It's part of my technique." He explains. "The six eyes. They're basically cursed energy x-rays. The blindfold just limits their strength." 

You were lounged on the sofa watching TV while he was plopped right next to you. He's switched his blindfold for his glasses. 

"Oh," you say when it clicks, "and since I block people's abilities you..." 

"Yup! Can't see you at all!" Gojo happily fills in. "It doesn't help that you're so quiet. Maybe I should put a bell on you." 

You laugh, but it doesn't sound like he was joking. 

"What's it like?" You ask, turning to him, "Seeing the way, you see? What-what do you see?"

"Everything." Gojo shrugs. 

You frown. "That's not very descriptive." 

He laughs. "Here, wanna try?" He takes off his glasses, handing them over. "These things are real popular with the ladies." 

He's avoiding the question, but you don't bother chasing him for it. Instead, you grab the lenses, pulling them over your eyes. You expect to see the secrets of the universe. Instead, you see nothing but darkness. Though, that might be the point.  

"Everything, hm?" You ask, when you take them off. "That sounds exhausting." 

He takes them back with a grin. "It is! My eyes hurt so so much! You should pity me and make matcha tiramisu." 

You laugh, drawing back. "That's what this is about? To guilt trip me into making dessert for you?" 

"Did it work?" 

You think for a moment.

"Get me the ingredients, and I'll see." 

He cheers but doesn't fully answer your question until the episode ends when you've bid him goodnight and are about to return to the bedroom. 

"You're blurry from far away." 

When you look at him, his glasses are gone, tucked under his collar. It's night, but the sky still stares down at you. His usual smile is gone, stretched into a line you can't place. 

"I can see down to molecules, atoms. Not you." 

You look at him, his eyes. The beautiful curse they are. 

You force yourself to take the first step. Then another. Then another. When you're right in front of him, when he's towering over you, you open to your mouth. 

"What do you see, Gojo?" 

"Everything." He honestly replies. 

Everything. Not just cursed energy. Down to cells, molecules, atoms. You can't fathom how much that is, the essence of everything. What's that like? Being able to see the universe so much that it hurts? So much so that it makes him want to wear a blindfold and never see anything again. 

But you're blurry. Gojo can't see you the way he sees others. 

You reach your hands up slowly like you're approaching a wild animal. In some ways, maybe that's what Gojo is: unpredictable, able to wield the power of space—power that's useless against you. 

You cover his eyes. He doesn't stop you. 

"What do you see, Satoru?" 

He doesn't speak, and you're afraid he's forgotten how. 

"Nothing." Quiet, barely more than a whisper.

He slouches ever so slightly, leaning into your hands like some weight's been lifted. It makes you smile. 

When you try to pull your hands away, his wrap around your wrist, keeping you there. So you stay—for as long as he wants. 

It starts something of a tradition between the two of you. Not every night, not even most nights, but every so often, Satoru would grow quiet, shift in a particular way. You hoped it was therapeutic for him, a break rather than a glimpse of what could have been. You hoped you were helping. 

And, if you were torturing him, hopefully, you won't be for long. 

"How much longer do you think I have to do this?" You ask. 

He hums, clearly not paying attention. You two were in the kitchen, making some sweet he saw trending on the internet. Well, you were doing all the work. Satoru kept trying to steal the batter. 

"You know. Sleeping under your roof, eating all your food, stealing you bed." You urge, while whisking. 

"You're acting like I've been keeping you in the attic, roomie." Satoru pouts. "C'mon, I haven't been that bad, have I?" 

"I'm asking for your sake rather than mine," you tell him. "I'm sure you'll be thrilled to have your house back, and your bed. When will everything settle down?" 

His blindfold is on, as it usually is. To help him out, you've taken to wearing squeaky slippers around the house. He'd offered to buy you one of those cat collars with bells. You declined. 

He's looking in your direction. You know he can't see you, but you can still feel his eyes on you. It's a strange feeling. 

"There's talks of taking down the bounty," Satoru finally says, losing his playful tone, "just rumors, nothing concrete. Worst comes to worst, we'll have to relocate you somewhere overseas." 

Yeah, you were worried about that. Leaving everything behind, your home, your friends, your family, because your life was in danger. You hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. 

"We have a couple of options, though," Satoru says, "negotiations, for one." 

You perk up at that. "Negotiations?" You ask. 

He nods. "Right now, you're under my protection. Unofficially. I could pull some strings, get those old geezers at the academy to take you in as some special assistant." 

You tilt your head. "Like at the school that you teach, right?" 

He nods. "We have a case like yours attending the school, too. I think you and him would get along." 

"Your ability could be pretty useful to us. You might even get out in the field every so often." Satoru continues. "A special technique like that would be wasted down here." 

Special. He's said that before. You can't remember when, but you know he's right. You're an anomaly, but you can use your abilities for good. But could you really do that? Risk your life every day? Lose pieces of yourself like that?

"I don't really feel special," you say, "I don't want to be special either." You glance at him. "Is that a bad thing?" 

Even blindfolded, somehow, his eyes find yours. 

"No," he says, no judgment in his voice, "it just makes you human." 

Relief. You can feel it sinking through your veins. Part of you feels guilty. Satoru is right; you could do a lot. But you...you don't want to end up like him. 

That makes you feel even worse, but then you catch something in his tone. 

"You sound like you're not very human," you say back. You're teasing, but it falls flat. 

He hums. It's not quite the response you were looking for. It takes a second for him to start up again. 

"When I was younger, people used to call me creepy." 

You stare at him. 

"What?." 

He grins, but it's not his usual one. 

"It's true." He shrugs. "Mostly, it was 'cause of my eyes. They called them unnerving. Monstrous. My folks were always a creative bunch." He says it so casually, but you can hear the bite on his voice. It's phrased as a joke, but it isn't.

You put down your whisk, giving him your full attention. 

"That's not true," you respond, "you know that, right? You aren't a monster. Monsters aren't as kind as you are." 

"Oh?" He tilts his head. "Maybe I'm using my kindness as a lure to trap you. Guess you just fell for it, roomie. 'thought you were smarter than that." You roll your eyes. 

"Okay, fine, I yield. You're a monster. But out of all the monsters in the world, I'd pick you." 

For a moment, there's silence in the kitchen. Then- 

"So cheesy!" Satoru laughs. He reaches over, roughly pinching your cheek. "Who knew you could say such cute things, roomie." 

You slap his hands away, now extremely annoyed. 

"Nevermind. I take it back," you retort. "I'd run away as far as I could from you." 

"Good, you should," he replies. "I won't stop you." 

You scoff. 

"Maybe that's why everyone thought you were creepy." You go back to your whisking. "It's not your eyes, you just say a lot of ominous shit." 

Despite how peaceful it is, making desert, cooking, and acting domestic, it can't last forever. The world was still hunting for you, and it had no problems reminding you of that. 

One night, you wake up to the sounds of hushed talking. 

It's coming from the living room. Multiple voices. Quiet but urgent. You're used to the noise. Satoru has this habit of blasting terrible soap operas at 2 am. You don't think that man sleeps. Over time, you've gotten used to at least one disturbance. 

But this feels different. It's enough to rub the sleep out of your eyes, making you pad over to the hall. 

They hear you before they see you. Satoru's apartment has creaky floorboards. Ijichi tugs on the collar of his shirt nervously. Ieiri just looks away. Satoru is leaning back against the couch, legs crossed. He's frowning. That's how you know something isn't right. 

"Is everything okay?" You ask anyway. 

Ijichi gives a tight grin. 

"Everything's fine." He's quick to console. "We-we were just-" 

"Stop." Satoru immediately cuts in. He's wearing his blindfold. You can't tell what he's thinking. 

"We're not hiding it. Everyone involved should know." 

Ijichi deflates. You think Ieiri sneers. 

Satoru beckons you closer with long fingers. You step forward. They're sitting around a computer. You peek at the screen.

Instantly, you wish you hadn't. 

There were pictures of you. Dead. Your body parts were strewn across the floor. Your hands were broken in every other way. Your legs were in pieces. Your head snapped clean off, blood oozing from your appendages like you were just a packet of liquid. One of your eyes was missing from its socket. The other was crushed. But it wasn't you, it was- 

"Miyashiro. At least, what's left of him." Satoru gives.  

The doppelganger, the guy who was covering for you. He was supposed to be one of their best; what happened to him? 

What was going to happen to you? 

They're talking again. At least, you think they are. Their words are muffled, filtered through water. You can't make out what anyone is saying. Your heart's beating too fast. It's pounding through your ears. You can only stare at the picture, what was left of him. Someone's touching you. A hand on your back. 

"Roomie, hey," Satoru's voice comes.

The pounding stops. You look up at him. 

Angelic. It's the only word you could think of. His snow-white hair was pretty, falling elegantly down his face. He'd taken his blindfold off. Blue eyes, sparkling, cleansing. Purifying, like the Ganges river. 

How could anyone think a beautiful sight like this was monstrous? 

He calls your name, your real name, and you break. 

You cling to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. And you're sobbing, tears of everything flowing down your face. 

Hands, hesitant, unsure, rest on your back. And then Satoru's holding you as tightly as he can.

He's warm. It's all you can think as you shake in his hold. 

He's warm. 

"I won't have to worry about that if I just gave in, hm?" You ask. 

It was a couple of days later from your episode. Satoru had convinced you to give one of his soap operas a shot. On-screen, a woman slapped her cheating husband. 

Satoru was lounging beside you, feet propped up on the coffee table. You want to tell him off, but it's his house. 

"If you went to the school, you mean?" He asks. "Probably. You'd be a lot freer. Won't have to sit in a cramped apartment all day. 'sides, jujutsu tech is always on the lookout for fresh talent. The higher-ups would be ecstatic to have someone like you under their thumb." 

"But I'd have to become a sorcerer." You say the unspoken. 

Gojo nods. "Yeah, you would." 

And you don't want that. To face curses, to face death every day. You know you can't handle that. You aren't strong, like Satoru. 

"I'm sorry," you say. 

He laughs. "For what?" 

You shrug as the on-screen couple makes up again. "For being...a coward, I guess."

He thinks for a moment. 

"It's not about bravery," he says in the end, "being a sorcerer is just...that. A sorcerer. It's a job. A title. Only a special few can do it. The crazy ones." 

His tone gets a bit playful. 

"No offense, roomie, but I don't think you got enough crazy in you." 

"That's a compliment, actually." You correct. He ignores you. 

"'sides, I like you staying here." Satoru declares, stretching his arms out on the couch. "Who'd feed me? It'd be horrible to go back to ramen again." 

You roll your eyes. "Right. Who else will wake at 2 am because of your whining to make wagashi?" 

"See! You get it!" Satoru grins. You can't force the smile off your face. 

The husband's mistress has entered the set. The wife is confident that her husband will choose her. She's left heartbroken all over again. You don't get how she couldn't see it. The red flags were all there, and still, she was left blindsided. Never saw it coming. She trusts too easily, you decided. 

"Also, I like having you here," Satoru says. 

You glance at him. He's watching the screen. 

"It's...nice." He admits after a bit. "To have company like this. It reminds me of back when I was younger. When the two of us lived in the dorms." 

When he was a student? Who was he talking about? You don't pry. It's clear he isn't talking to you. 

"I'm glad you're here," Satoru says. 

Lightly, you bump shoulders with him. Infinity doesn't stop you. 

"You're a sweet monster." You tell him. 

He gives a secret grin. 

Every once in a while, Gojo peeks into the bedroom while you're sleeping. 

He's subtle about it, doesn't make too much noise. You're a light sleeper, so it takes little to nothing to wake you up. 

He doesn't do anything. He stands there, shuffles here and there, hovering by the foot of the bed. You just pretend to be asleep in those cases, evening out your breaths, closing your eyes. It's always the same. He loiters around for a minute, and then he's shutting the door behind him. 

It's strange, but you try not to think too much of it. He was probably looking for something. It's his room after all. 

It's just...strange. 

You find it when you're looking through his book shelf. 

He doesn't have anything interesting to read. It's mainly just historical novels. You're perusing through one before a photograph falls out of the pages. 

It's tiny, barely larger than your palm. It only takes a second to realize what you're looking at. 

"Found your baby pictures." You gleefully tell Satoru when he comes back. 

"What?" He tilts his head; you wave the photo in front of him. When he tries to take it, you pull back. 

"Tiny Satoru!" You squeal. "Who knew you were once so small? I always thought you were born six feet over." 

It's a simple photograph, a little aged, but still clear. Satoru looks about eight, standing between a man and a woman. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. He isn't wearing sunglasses or a blindfold. Doll-like blue eyes. You don't feel like you're looking at a child. He's too-

"Are those your parents?" You ask, letting him take the photograph from you. 

"No," he says, "my caretakers." 

Caretakers. Not nannies, or anything else. It felt so clinical. You lean against his shoulder, still staring at the photograph. 

"You look cute." You finally say. When you peak over, a hint of a smile is twitching on his face. "But I totally agree with everyone. You look creepy. Like one of those children from the exorcist. Climbing over the walls." 

"I never grew out of that phase." Satoru ponders. You laugh. 

"What was it like?" You ask. "You said you're from a clan, right?" 

"Exhausting." Satoru groans. "Never a break from training. I should go back and sue my folks for child abuse. I could get millions." 

"I could help you with that." You pipe in. "I've never gone to law school, but I feel like I'd make a great lawyer." 

"I'll keep that in mind." He promises teasingly before his smile fades. 

"But that's the norm for most kids in jujutsu." He sighs. "Gotta' be perfect. Gotta' be the best, right from the beginning. There's a student I know who had a rough start, but she's the best in her class. Her clan didn't care about her potential. Those kids are all scary talented, they just need a bit of nurturing, that's all." 

You stare at him. He catches you. 

"What?" He asks, before his eyes widen. "Do I have a pimple?" 

You shake your head. "For some reason, I feel like that's impossible for you." You tease.

"I'm just admiring you, I think. For being such a kind person." 

"I thought we agreed I was a monster." Satoru points out. 

This again. You roll your eyes. 

"Fine, a good monster." You correct. "A monster, I know." 

"The monster you know." He repeats

You want to ask him why he's so insistent on that. For some reason, you hold your voice. 

Satoru's apartment had two bathrooms. Lately, the one in the bedroom has had some issues. 

It's been awkward lately trying to share the only working bathroom. Satoru and you shower at around the same time, so you've opted to hold back your morning routine a little later. You still manage to catch each other. The amount of times you've accidentally caught him walking around with nothing but a towel around his waist would be too mortifying to admit. 

But, so far, it's working. And you can't complain since you at least have one working bathroom. It's the little things. 

Tonight, you wake up to your bladder urging you to move. And yet, your body still wants to sleep. You check the time. It's nearly 2 in the morning.

It takes a while to pull yourself up, unraveling yourself from the covers before you're trudging out the bedroom. Satoru's apartment is so dark. It's a completely different look compared to daytime. You feel your way with the walls, letting your eyes adjust to the dark. When you peek over at the living room, Satoru isn't there. He must not be coming home tonight. 

The bathroom is shut, but there's a sliver of light bleeding under the door. Fuck, you did not shut the lights off last time. You need to be less careless. 

At first, you think Satoru's hurt. 

He looks hurt. He's hunched over, shaking shoulders, harsh breathing. You can only see his back, but he looks like he's in agony. You're about to step forward, ask what happened, and then you catch a glimpse of what he's clutching. 

Pretty, blue, laced panties. 

Your panties. 

And you're close enough to hear his voice whispering your name. Over and over again. 

"Fuck, fuck, baby, need you, just lemme-just lemme, all mine, all mine-"

He doubles over, tightening his grip on the edge of the sink. Your panties are damp. 

You flinch, and in your moment of panic, you step back. Creaky floorboards. 

Satoru looks up in the mirror. You don't move. 

He takes his time. Placing his phone down. Adjusting his pants, washing his hands. You can only stand there, frozen. Staring. Staring until he's in front of you, looking right back. 

You might have forgiven him if he had fumbled, laughed it off, became bashful. A human reaction. His face is eerily blank. He stares with no emotion, not even a smile. His eyes mirror that photograph. Doll-like, absolutely empty. 

Monstrous. 

Your eyes water. He turns blurry for a second. 

Satoru steps aside. You wordlessly enter the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't bother locking. 

You don't know how long you stay there, quiet, shaking, your mind trying to piece together what you just saw. You stay there for hours. You stay there for seconds. Time stretches on like infinity itself, yet even then, it's too short. 

You're alone with him. It's a thought you never even had until now. You're alone with him. 

Satoru is outside. You don't look at him, staring at the floor, looking at the carpet, counting each strand. You keep your head down when you return to the bedroom. 

He follows. You say nothing. You don't look. You don't look, even when the covers shift and he gets into bed behind you. You don't look, even when there's a hand on your shoulder. You don't look, even when there's a chest pressed against your back. 

You shiver, you shake. You don't look. He says nothing, even when you break down completely. 

You wake up alone the next morning. 

You don't waste a second. You're stumbling through the room, picking up your clothes, packing everything that you need. You're so panicked that you manage to knock over an alarm clock. 

It's habit to reach down and pick it up. Learned politeness to scrutinize it to make sure it isn't broken. 

A black dot stares back at you. 

A camera. 

Horrible memories of last night come back. He was watching something on his phone. 

You feel nauseous, about to give all over the floor. You need to go. You needed to get out of there. 

The apartment is silent, like it always is when Satoru isn't here. You just hadn't noticed how cold it was, lifeless. It makes the pit on your stomach gap. You expect the windows to be bolted shut. They aren't. Sunlight streams through the glass. The front door is unbarred too. 

It's easy to leave. 

You stop anyway. One question. 

Where would you go? 

You can't go back home. Miyashiro's body still haunts you. His soul in your body, torn apart with such hatred and vitriol. Those people were still looking for you. The only reason you were still alive was because Miyashiro took your death bed. 

You'd die if you went back home. 

You can't go to jujutsu tech. You'd be expected to lay down your life, serve a maskless force that pretended to do good. You'd certainly die. Ripped apart by curses. 

You'd be slaughtered if you went to the school.

Every route is treacherous, nearly impossible, full of dangers and unknowns. 

At least, you know what Satoru wants. 

He's made it clear since the beginning. You were just willfully ignorant. Oblivious on purpose. More than happy to ignore the red flags because you knew he was a kind person to his students, ignoring the dichotomy of his actions. 

Two things can be right at once. 

Satoru won't stop you if you run. He told you that himself. You could leave if you wanted, and he won't follow. But every other path is filled with an intangible value, and Satoru is the monster you know. 

Your hand falls away from the doorknob. 

You get started on dinner.

You're still there when Satoru comes back. You say nothing. Neither does he. Dinner is a quiet affair. He doesn't talk about his day, he doesn't talk about his students. When you wash the plates, he's quietly standing behind you. When you get out of the shower, he's waiting outside the bathroom. 

You can't bring yourself to look at him until you get into bed. Your eyes trail up, past his legs, his shoulders, his neck. Looking into Satoru's crystal blue eyes. 

Blank. Numb. Empty. 

You think of the cameras. You think of your stolen underwear. 

You think of how much his eyes must hurt right then. 

You raise one hand out, grasping the sleeve of his shirt. It's barely a tug, but the monster follows like he's weightless, crawling into bed. He's too big to hold properly, but he sinks into your body anyway. His forehead rests against your chest. His eyes close. You don't feel that ice anymore. 

“What do you see, Satoru?” 

“Nothing.” A pause. A stilted breath. 

“Nothing but you.” 

He was right in the end. Satoru is a monster. There's no other word that can describe him. Inhuman, far above humanity itself. But he's the monster you'd pick, every single time.

[see-arcane]

You know the one good thing about being a pessimist?

It feels great to be proven wrong.

Bravo, Bobby Egg.

I was so happily surprised by this. This film went through a fantastic puberty between the leaked script and the screen. The main points to note:

-No, Ellen is not hot for Count Orlok. She and Thomas are 110% in love. There are even certain Harker-flavored quotes thrown in to prove as much. (Details under the cut.)

-Count Orlok is a terrifying bastard and a half. Significantly more imposing than classic Orlok’s spindly rigor mortis-stiff figure and only wearing a sliver of Dracula’s performative charm. He is a Devil-Death archetype playing a monster who operates in deceit and contracts to wring out what he wants. That and a lot of corpses.

-This film is so beautiful. No gothic touch is skipped.

In sum, I more than like this film. I love it. It isn’t perfect, because no film can be, but damn. I am so proud of this nightmare you made, Bobby Egg.

SPOILERS FOR Nosferatu (2024) BELOW

-Getting some cons out of the way. There are points where a few of the actors lean maybe a bit too heavy on the ham-and-cheese in their deliveries (I’ll not blame the kids, they’re very young, but yeesh. That’s some cartoon acting.)

Yes, the g-slur is still used; though while I wish it hadn’t appeared in Eggers’ script at all, it does make sense within the context of the setting, i.e. Thomas and the Innkeeper probably only having the one word they know, same as in Dracula. And yes, naked teenage girl-on-a-horse does happen for the vampire hunt scene. Whee.

-Now, an early pro: Eggers nixed the ‘hot teen girl tries to pickpocket Thomas’ bit, and the ‘land of phantoms and thieves’ line never happens. All that happens after Thomas wakes in the inn—post witnessing the vampire slaying in the local graveyard, mud on his shoes to prove it was real—is he discovers himself utterly alone. No people, no horse. Cue the long walk.

-Ellen doing the ‘Come to me,’ bit early on is her in adolescence. It’s revealed that her Weird Girl elements have been turned up to 11, tragic lonely past included (replete with dad threatening to send her to a madhouse), and her prayer was just for company. The psychic ping was picked up by Orlok, who took advantage, turning an isolated and desperate barely-more-than-a-kid’s wish into a ‘covenant.’

-Thomas was met not long after this, cue them being genuinely in love <3

-Knock Does Not Jerk Off On Screen. If he does, his back is to us, and Little Knock is covered with some occult tablet or suchlike while he’s doing his ritual business. Also he kills a guy in his cell. Using his teeth.

-Castle time! Thomas is greeted by a driverless carriage at a crossroads and seems to be hypnotized into stepping in. A lot of things Thomas does once in Orlok’s territory seem to very clearly have psychic puppet strings attached. That and some increasing terror on Thomas’ part. There is no warm Dracula-style welcome from Orlok when he arrives, but a terse and strange leading to the dinner table where paperwork is demanded.

- We get a glimpse of this version of the Count’s ego. Thomas calls him sir. Orlok demands Thomas address him as my lord. And then we get the bread cutting scene. Thomas’ thumb bleeds. Orlok get far too interested. His voice, a very guttural and rasping bass, turns into something closer to an animal trilling and growling. Thomas is paralyzed beside the fire; cut away as Orlok closes in.

-Ellen and Anna Harding have a bit of a Mina and Lucy deal going on at the beach. It’s sweet <3 (Prepare for pain </3)

 - Orlok starts getting tricky. He 1) borrows (steals) Ellen’s locket from Thomas and 2) Tricks Thomas into signing a contract to ‘sell’ Ellen/break their marriage via a strange contract in a language Thomas can’t read, with Orlok using the prop of some gold to imply that this is merely a document in ~his native language~ to complete the property sale. Thomas signs, less for the gold than to be gone from the castle and back to Ellen…only for Orlok to insist Thomas is not well. He must stay the night.

- No mind games here. Just Thomas pleading to leave and Orlok’s parting word being that he will stay, and that he will obey his orders.

-Orlok has already chomped Thomas on the tiddy as of last night. Next night, after Thomas almost lands a blow on him in the coffin—Orlok sleeps with his Orcock out in the box, by the way, alongside several rats—Orlok wills Thomas to unlock the door he shut between them. Cue Thomas being tranced onto the bed, pounced on, and basically dry-humped by Orlok as he drinks Thomas all but dry. Thomas is left that way, only to be woken by Orlok’s wolves—he has those too!—and go clambering out the window, dropping to the river below.

-Orlok makes Ellen’s life hell. Holy fuck. The 1838 quality ‘medicine’ definitely doesn’t help—corsets for correcting posture, draining blood because there’s too much in there, binding to the bedposts to stop sleepwalking, general drugging etc etc—but FUCK. Lily-Rose Depp did a great and terrible job of reproducing shaking fits and some of the faces and sounds she made had me thinking I might choke on my own tongue. And for all the sexually provocative poses/noises that happen, every time she comes out of it it’s clear that she hates this. It’s on par with psychic rape.

-The only times we see Ellen respond positively~ to Orlok’s dream-advances is when she’s telling Thomas about the ‘marrying Death’ dream where everyone died and she was deliriously happy and then the infamous trailer line about Thomas not being able to satisfy her as Orlok can~~~

Well guess what.

Guess fucking what.

That was Orlok leaning on her brain. The same way he did to Thomas when, eventually, after the nuns rescue him and pray the plague/vampirism out and he makes it home while half-dead, he lays in bed with Ellen and gets a panic attack combined with Orlok’s image being grafted over Ellen’s face…

…a reverse of the illusion Orlok gave him in the castle, with Thomas imagining it was Ellen on top of him instead. The effect terrifies Thomas all over again and he unwittingly tosses Ellen away, I can't breathe, get off of me, get off!

-Orlok does his murder snacking. Knock, who escaped, offers to find and kill Thomas to please the Count, literally on his hands and knees. Orlok calls him a dog and backhands him, insisting Ellen must be given, not stolen.

-Orlok has already visited Ellen by this time. He presses her to keep her deal with him. She tells him, flat out, I abhor you. In response, Orlok grabs her and chucks her like a ragdoll in a rage. He fumes, telling her he will give her three nights to pledge herself to him, and in the meantime he will start killing. (RIP to Anna and her little girls, the latter of whom ORLOK KILLS IN FRONT OF HER, EATING THEIR THROATS OUT AS SHE ENTERS THEIR ROOM.)

-Before all that, he spins bullshit about Thomas ~selling her to him for mere gold~. A technical truth that Ellen, mid-Orlok spell, spits back at Thomas amid a rage, along with details that are likewise based in only a granule of reality; but which Orlok did not mention in their scene together. Things like Thomas being weak and childish, that he ‘fell into Orlok’s arms like a fainting woman.’ Interesting choice of spin there, Orlok. But whatever.

This all culminates in what is either reality or a dream or a blend of both as Thomas makes sudden desperate love to her, Ellen weirdly heady about it, telling him yes yes yes they will show Orlok their love. Cue her snapping back to full cognizance (awake? dreaming?) as her eyes and mouth spurt blood in a vision. She collapses in fear and tears as Thomas holds her. AND THEN:

-Ellen. Drops. The I am unclean line. She wants Thomas away from her, she is not worthy, she puts him in danger.

-Thomas goes full Jonathan and clings to her. Nonsense. I love you. I love you. I love you.

-V i n d i c a t i o n

-Anyway.

-Dafoe-Von Franz-Van Helsing is a kooky science occultist. Finds a book that Knock had which fills the role of highlighting Orlok as Solomonari (hey, Scholomance shout out!) and Knock as a would-be beneficiary. Also includes the ‘maiden offers her body and blood to the monster to kill it via sunrise’ bit.

-While he reads this, he does NOT actually spell any of these details out to Ellen when they have their secret mini talk about tricking Thomas into hunting for the coffin with him and Sievers. He gives her a big ~you're the only one who can save us magic maiden martyr~ pep talk, but that's it. Meanwhile, Ellen was already preparing to offer herself to save Thomas and whoever’s left in Wisborg. Not the same kind of agency as the original, but still better than I was expecting.

-Harding, Thomas’ rich friend whose wife and children got drinked to death, dies of plague in the family tomb. They burn the bodies.

-In the ruin Orlok bought, cue the iron stake slamming down as they open the coffin..! But whoops. Knock’s in the box, not Orlok. Von Franz says Ellen offering herself is the only way~ Thomas doesn’t waste time throttling him, just makes a run for their home.

-Too late, of course. Orlok is there (with a very cool homage to the original stalking shadow silhouette routine) and Ellen welcomes him. While they are both naked in bed and it’s implied that they are/or intend to have sex, the bulk of the scene centers on Orlok taking Ellen’s blood from her breast. No clear shot of the Orcock on screen for that bit—Bobby Egg saved that pleasure for the Count flashing Thomas at the castle.

-Orlok’s death throes. Are so. Fucking. Cool. Definitely up there with one of the best vampiric demises I’ve ever seen on film. No spoilers there. You’ve got to see it.

-Heartbreak o’ Clock as Thomas bursts in just as Orlok has died and as Ellen is dying under him. There’s time for them to hold hands. And then she’s gone.

-We close on Von Franz popping up with some poetic soliloquy shit and a bunch of lilacs. The final beat is an overhead shot of Ellen, the Maiden, laying under the now-skeletal Orlok, as Death. Looks almost like a painting. Unlike the implication in the leaked script, she does not look happy/at peace. Simply asleep. The End.

-Other important notes:

1) Orlok has a little combover’s worth of hair on top and mighty and powerful ‘stache. Not Dracula-white, but it is there. Finally.

 2) The guy who plays Dr. Sievers has Alan Rickman’s voice. If he isn’t in opera, he should be.

3) I was too late to get a popcorn coffin box. I shall be in mourning until the New Year.

4) Bobby Egg if you can give me one more gift, let it be a deleted scene of Thomas beating Von Franz over the head with the iron stake, please and thank you <3

[tokkiwrites]

Hi happy holidays! Can you please do a Sergei kravinoff smut x innocent female virgin reader “babe in the woods” trope. Sergei is immediately fixated on reader and wants her to be his grude & mother of his children. He immediately marries and later takes her virginity. He hopes to impregnate her from their first time together. Ty!

thank you for this request, anon! and sorry it took so long to post. I've had it written, but it just took a while for me to get the smut part going. i hope you like it!

Sergei Kravinoff × F!Reader ♰ themes of stalking, obsessive Sergei, kidnapping, Kraven is a weirdo and needs to be locked up, i would say innocent reader but more so an unbothered reader kind of, she is just confused, forced marriage, themes of Stockholm syndrome, loss of virginity, fingering (reader receiving), afab reader, unprotected p in v, Sergei wants to get the reader pregnant.

The woods were quiet, save for the whisper of wind threading through the branches above. You loved this time of day when the sun filtered gold and green through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the earth. It was your sanctuary, far from the clamor of town and the heavy, watchful eyes of others. Here, no one could accuse you of being strange, or sheltered, or too naive. You simply were.

The faint crack of a branch made you stop mid-step, your basket of wildflowers swinging lightly at your hip. “Hello?” You called, voice soft, hesitant. The forest had always been safe— or so it felt. until now, you had never had the need to question it.

He emerged from the shadows, and your breath caught. The man was massive. A towering figure, his broad shoulders draped in animal pelts and his chest bare save for the crisscrossing scars that marked him as something primal, dangerous. His face was angular, carved from stone, with piercing eyes that pinned you where you stood.

Sergei Kravinoff. The name would mean nothing to you, but to others, it struck fear—a hunter of men and beasts, a predator who bent the wilderness to his will. He did not speak at first. He only looked at you, as if you were some rare, delicate creature he had stumbled upon. The longer his eyes lingered, the hotter your cheeks burned.

“Who are you?” you asked, clutching the basket to your chest. His lips curved into a smile, though there was nothing warm in it. “I am Sergei,” he said, his voice low, thick with an accent you couldn’t place. “And you" he paused for a bit. " Should not wander alone in places like this. The world is not kind to lambs.” You blinked at him, confused. “Lambs?”

“You,” he clarified, taking a step closer. His sheer presence seemed to draw the air from your lungs. “Soft. Untouched. So trusting.” You took an instinctive step back, and his smile widened, as if he enjoyed your unease. “I—I’ve never seen you here before. Are you lost?”

“No,” he said simply, his eyes roaming over you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. “But perhaps I have found something worth staying for.”

It reeked of dangerㅡ death. yet you still came back.

Over the next week, you saw him again and again. Always in the woods, always watching. At first, you told yourself it was a coincidence. this strange man simply shared your love for the forest. But his presence became impossible to ignore. He never tried to speak much, yet his eyes seemed to devour you every time, as though he were committing every detail of your face to memory. You should have been afraid. You should have stopped going to the woods entirely. But something about him fascinated you. He was so unlike the boys in town, who stammered and avoided your gaze, intimidated by your quietness. Sergei was bold, unflinching. He seemed to look right through you, to the parts of yourself you didn’t even understand.

you little lamb.

“Why do you keep following me?” He tilted his head, his gaze softening though not entirely. “Because you are mine.” The bluntness of his words made your breath hitch. “I don’t even know you.”

“You will,” he said, stepping closer. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and though you should have flinched away, you didn’t. His touch was surprisingly gentle, reverent even, even if his rough fingers scratched your skin. “I have decided. You will be my bride.”

“Bride?” You echoed the word foreign and strange on your tongue. “But we’ve only just—” you laughed. surely it must be a joke. “You are meant for me, little lamb” he interrupted, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “I have hunted all my life, little one. I know when I have found my prize.” Suddenly, the world went dark.

maybe it was all just a bad and confusing dream. though his touch still lingered.

You woke in the morning to find yourself not in your small, familiar room. outside the window that overlooked the bed you were in, the forest. The air smelled of pine and smoke, and outside, the trees loomed tall and unyielding. Panic gripped you as you sat up, heart racing. “Where—” The door creaked open, and there he was, filling the frame with his imposing presence. “You are awake,” Sergei said, his tone calm, almost pleasedㅡ excited. He carried a tray with food: fresh berries, bread, and cheese. “Eat. Now."

“Where am I?” you demanded, your voice trembling. “Why did you—” He set the tray down, cutting you off with a look. “You are safe. That is all you need to know.”

“I am not! This isn’t right,” you said, tears pricking at your eyes. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” he said sharply, though his expression softened as he stepped closer. “I have waited long enough. You do not understand, but you will. I will take care of you. Protect you. You will want for nothing, my little one.”

You shook your head, backing away from him, but he caught your wrist with startling ease. His touch was firm, yet not cruel. “Do not fear me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to something almost tender. “I would never hurt you. You are too precious.”

Sergei did not wait long to make you his.

The days in the cabin blurred together, each one steeped in an odd rhythm. Sergei’s presence was constant, protective, and overwhelming. He would watch you eat, his sharp eyes softening whenever you complied. He brought you small gifts: wildflowers, trinkets carved from wood, pelts to keep you warm. He never let you wander far, always ensuring you were within sight. And though he never forced his touch upon you, you could feel the tension thrumming beneath the surface, like a predator waiting for the right moment to pounce.

In the evening, as the fire crackled and cast flickering shadows on the walls, Sergei sat across from you. He leaned forward, large hands resting on his knees. “It is time,” he said, his voice calm but unyielding. “Time?” you echoed, your throat dry. “For us to marry.” You stared at him, heart pounding. “I… I can’t. I don’t even know what you want from me. I—I never— You kidnapped me!”

“You were made for this,” he said, cutting you off. his eyes were setting you a-light, it made your skin prickle. “You think I do not see it? Your purity. Your innocence. You were meant to be a wife. My wife.” Tears burned in your eyes, but you blinked them away. “But I’m not— I need to marry someone I love!"

“You are ready,” he insisted, his tone softening only slightly. “I have waited long enough. It will be done."

And it was.

The ceremony was simple, ritualistic. Sergei had prepared everything. rings made from woven silver, a bearskin cloak to drape over your shoulders as a symbol of protection. There was no priest, no people, only the two of you and the forest as your witness. He spoke vows in a language you did not understand, his voice deep and reverent, as though he were offering you up to some ancient force. When it was your turn, your voice faltered, but under his watchful gaze, you repeated the words he taught you.

“You are mine,” he said at the end, taking your face in his hands. His eyes burned with possessive fire. “And I am yours.”

but every wolf gets hungry eventually.

When night fell, you found yourself sitting on the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the thick wool blanket. Sergei entered the room, his movements slow and deliberate. He had shed his usual pelts, his bare chest glowing in the firelight.

“You are trembling,” he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard it. He knelt in front of you, his massive frame now not so intimidating. “Are you afraid of me?” You couldn’t meet his eyes. "I don’t know... what you expect from me? What you w-want...”

“I expect you to trust me,” he said simply, his hand brushing against your cheek. “You are my wife now. It is my duty to show you what that means.” Your breath stopped as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over your forehead. “I will not hurt you,” he murmured, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. “But you are mine, little lamb. Every part of you.”

His lips met yours— soft at first, testing, as though he feared you might shatter like porcelain. But when you didn’t pull away, his kiss deepened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. His hands cradled your face, his touch reverent, almost worshipful.

“I have waited for this,” he said against your lips, his voice thick with desire. “Waited to claim what is mine.” You didn’t resist as he laid you down, his hands tracing over your trembling form. He was patient, guiding you gently, his touch surprisingly tender for someone so fierce. But his intent was clear.

oh, little lamb.

rugged hands make their way up and around your hips as his bearded face stays flush against your tender neck. he was ready to devour you. Sergei looked up into your eyes and for the first time you've seen him smile. and as if all of the things you felt caused you fears melted away, so did you into his embrace.

his lips meet yours, and it all finally made sense. you could feel the hunger, the will in him to give his all right here, right now. you wrapped around him like vines on a tree, his low growl of approval making you clench around nothing. it all felt so new, yet familiar, as if somehow, this wasn't the first time. the forest outside sung as your quiet moans filled the cabin. Sergei discards all of your clothes with ease, leaving you in nothing as you stayed splayed on the bed. the fur coverings under, pooled around your body, the moonlight dripped on you like dew in spring and you looked like a precious painting.

with no time to wait, sergei quickly gets naked. it wasn't the first time you saw him like this, but it was the first time you saw it. to say all that fear bubbled up into your stomach was an understatement. you gulped down as your glossy eyes looked at him up and down. "Spread your legs for me." it wasn’t a request, it was an order. and you obey. spreading your legs you give him a full view of you dripping cunt, and sergei throws his head back with a low groan. you finally speak up. "IㅡI am a...a virgin." it all seemed so silly to say now. "I know." he smiles in the corner of his mouth. "Smelled it on you the first time we met." and you whimper. "I will get you ready now." somehow, you knew what it meant. He kneels in front of you on the bed, pulling you so that you thighs are right over his, your puffy lips on full display. two of his digits make their way up to your mouth. "Suck." you comply.

after that was done, his calloused fingers make their way between your folds, gathering up the juices you've been dripping. You whimpered softly and Sergei shushed you, rubbing small circles on your plushy thigh with his other hand. He pushes one of his fingers inside, and you can feel it. It didn’t hurt, not yet, it was just strange and new. the second finger comes quick after and he starts pumping them, swirling them around as his lips made contact with your swollen bud. Your eyes jot open as this feeling washes over you, and you can't help but let your legs shake uncontrollably. The fire wave envelopes you whole before it comes to an agonizing stop. You open your eyes again and above you is Sergei, his shaft in his hand as he aligns it with your asking entrance. "If it hurts...yell. Scream as much as you want. Hurt me back. I am here to teach you."

and teach you he does. he pushes in slowly and the stretch is agonizing, the pain making all of your muscles tense. "It's alright, I'm here, little girl." you let out a sigh, the tears slipping past your lids when you open your eyes. the moon engulfed Sergei in It's beautiful light, his silhouette looking as if it was carved out perfectly. a couple of inches, then some more, and some moreㅡ until he is fully inside. you bite down on your tongue, but Sergei preps soft kisses along your jaw and you seem to forget about the pain. "You're doing so, so good. So good for me." he hums, taking in a big breath of your smell before he snaps his hips slowly. In a few seconds, the burn turned into a delicious feeling you couldn’t quite describe. And though it felt so new, your body fell in place right into Sergei’s touch, as if it were meant to be.

When he finally started to move faster, his groan was one of triumph, a sound that you know will echo in your ears long after. “You will give me childrenㅡ" he said, voice low and ragged as he moved inside of you. “Strong sons and daughters. Our legacy will begin tonight.”

your legs quiver around him, but he leaves no room for mercy. Above you, he looked just as a predator ready to swallow his pray whole. you weren't one to fight back, and you really didn't want to. you back stayed arched against the coverings of the bed, fingers clawing at his broad shoulders as he pumped into you. your tummy was churning, and your head was dizzyㅡ you were far gone, too drunk on the way he perfectly hit that spot with each thrust. "You were made for me, made to take meㅡ fuck, you are so beautiful." you whimper, feeling that fire wave starting to take over again. your velvet walls squeeze around him, causing him to growl. Sergei leans forward, propping one of your legs above his shoulder, the angle making you gasp for air. you look up at him, eyes glossy with tears. An animal. His eyes grew darker, lips crooked in a smile before he delivered his final blow.

you come undone right under his fingertips, writhing and shaking as small pleads fall from your lips. You can feel his seed deep within you, threatening to slip out around his cock that was still inside of you, pulsing. "Good girl."

he prays it sticks.

Sergei’s obsession with you only deepened—he barely let you out of his sight, his touch lingering whenever he could. Yet there was a softness in him, a desire to make you happy, even as he bent you to his will.

He began teaching you small things. how to tend the fire, how to skin an animal, how to defend yourself should a predator come. But you were never allowed to go far. “Why can’t I leave?” you asked one afternoon, your frustration bubbling over. Sergei turned to you, his eyes darkening. “Because the world is cruel, little one. It will devour you. You are too soft, too trusting. Here, you are safe.”

“Safe,” you repeated bitterly. His jaw clenched, and for a moment, you thought he might lash out. But instead, he cupped your face in his hands, his gaze softening. “I would rather you hate me than lose you.” you were beginning to see the truth of it. his love for you was consumin and obsessive, but it was real. He worshipped you, protected you, but at the cost of your freedom. And yet, part of you began to adapt. To find comfort in his arms, in the way he looked at you as though you were the only thing that mattered.

Perhaps you were.

[griffonsgrove]

Hiiii!!! See your doing writing requests for Hazbin, Its my hyperfixation so I am in need of more content 👀 so I'd like to request maybe Vox general or NSFW headcanon ( either one is good lol-) with a afab reader maybe? This is my first time requesting something like this so sorry if I'm a little nervous or bad at requesting. I think this is how people are supposed to request? XD

General Dating Headcanons | Vox

a/n: You're totally alright dear! You said everything just fine! As I've stated before, I got early access to the first two episodes, and it's been so interesting to analyze vox's character! I hope I can do him justice!! He's starting to grow on me now. I'm gonna stick with a gn!reader just because these are general headcanons and I want them to be suited for anyone!

fandom: Hazbin Hotel

wordcount: 1299

cw: SPOILERS FOR HAZBIN HOTEL, swearing, vulgar content, stalking, death and mentions of death/murder., toxic/absuive relationships.

(PLATONIC):

Vox’s got eyes EVERYWHERE in hell. There is no escaping his line of sight unless you go completely off the grid. Which is pretty difficult to do when the entirety of pentagram city is covered head to toe in VoxTech.

However, if you don't pose a threat to him, he really doesn't give a shit about you otherwise, and won’t pay that much attention to your life.

When you first fell into hell, you were mostly confused as to how you wound up here in the first place. That quickly subsided into fear as you noticed the large variety of demons and sinners casually walking down the sidewalk like it was an average tuesday. 

You’ll never forget the sight of seeing a demon gnaw off the arm of another and swallow it whole, like it was an all-you-can-eat buffet. 

You wander aimlessly down the streets, keeping to yourself and being very cautious of those around you. Your clothes were in tatters, and you didn't have any form of money whatsoever, what were you to do??

You had two options: Somehow find a job in this new horrific realm, or, die.

You didn't care too much for the latter.

This is how you stumble across one of the largest studios/clubs in hell, owned by probably the most feared overlords in pentagram city. The V’s. 

You get hired to be nothing more than a waiter/waitress, to serve the patrons of the club, mostly serving them their drinks.

You weren't too fond of the work uniform either. It left nothing to the imagination, and exposed alot of skin, far too much to your liking. The job actually paid somewhat decently though and it was enough to be able to sustain a living. You were quick to rent out the nearest apartment.

One day, while you’re out on the main floor, making your rounds, your eyes briefly lock with the TV demon across a sea of sinners. Call it cheesy, but it was almost like a spark went off the moment he laid eyes on you. Which is something that doesn't happen often with the tech-savvy overlord. Who were you??

He lazily beckons you over with a claw, to which you obediently follow, although it doesn't hide the sheer nervousness written all over your face, He gives you his drink order in that sultry, velvet voice of his, eyeing you up. You gulp slightly and are quick to bring him his order. He thought you were so cute trembling for him.

He begins to stalk observe you closer after that. If you have any electronic devices he’ll watch you through your screens, trying to get a glimpse into what your life was like outside of work. The things you enjoyed doing in your free time, favorite shows, foods etc.

He def goes through your search history.

He would start showing up more in the sections you worked at, oftentimes minding his business, but occasionally striking up a conversation with you.

You did have to admit he was quite the charmer, his smooth voice was hypnotic to you.

OBSESSIVE TENDENCIES. If he notices some creep won't leave you alone while you're working, he’ll take care of them personally, it’s never a pretty sight afterwards. He cant have anyone taking what's his.

You're oblivious to his stalking and possessiveness, you don't think much of it, maybe that's because he puts on a friendly face when you’re around him.

But after some time of getting to know you, He’s the one that eventually asks you out on a “date”. You’re skeptical at first, but decide to accept his offer. And also partially because you were afraid of what would happen if you said no.

(ROMANTIC):

Ngl it’s kind of a situationship in the beginning.

Vox is a busy man, it’s constant work maintaining the studios (especially valentinos temper) and managing the entirety of hell's technology. So, he may ghost you at first.

That being said, He will still keep an eye on you. He often watches through your phone while you sleep, just to make sure you’re safe. Hell is a dangerous place after all.

Speaking of, you’re now under the protection of the V’s, so that’s a plus! You never have to worry about another demon laying a finger on you. They usually never get close enough to anyways.

He very easily gets jealous. He won't show it on the outside because he has an image to uphold, but you can tell every time from that crazed look in his eyes.

Vox is a possessive lover; he wants to keep you all to himself. If he could, he’d keep you locked up by his side all day.

CONTROLLING. He HAS to know where you’re at, at all times, and who you’re going to be with (lest you face one of his tantrums). Also dictates what you wear, He likes to dress you up to his liking, like you’re his own personal doll.

Insecure much?

Say goodbye to privacy btw. He constantly has you in the back of his mind and a watchful eye on you. It can be kind of suffocating at times. The two of you have gotten into a few arguments because of this.

Valentino gets jealous of you too. How dare you take his boy-toy away from him? He’s often giving you the stink eye and will threaten you behind vox’s back. You’re too scared to tell Vox, because you don't want to face Val’s wrath.

You know briefly of his and Val’s “relationship” it all had seemed very one-sided and completely unhealthy.

You're often having to calm Vox down. The man has a very short temper and is easily provoked. 

Imagine you pressing little kisses to his screen after he found out about Alastor’s return. He remains stoic, but secretly enjoys your affection.

Some of the pet names he loves to call you include; Doll, Dear, Darling, Sweetheart, Babe.

Pretty old-fashioned ik, but he's a classy man alright?

He tends to be pretty touchy, always having a clawed hand on the small of your back, or an arm wrapped around your waist. It’s more of a possessive trait of his, to keep what's his close.

He loves having you sprawled on his lap while he’s in his screen room, you stay nuzzled into his side, often taking naps while he does broadcasts.

He TOTALLY spoils you btw. He’s one of the most powerful overlords in hell, ofc he has the money to show it. Whatever dingy apartment you had before, forget about it bc this man has you living in a penthouse suite in one of the most expensive apartment buildings. He sees you looking at something in a store or online?? Boom, it’s yours now.

He loves buying you clothes, as I’ve said before, you're his “doll” and he loves playing dress up with you.

And if you buy him something?? He’s taken by surprise at first, he’s never really been on the receiving end of that affection, so whatever it is you give him he’ll cherish it.

If you ever have someone bothering you, or want to get rid of, you just say the word babe. He’ll be feeding them to his sharks >:)

The man is emotionally constipated, ok?? All he’s ever known from relationships is what he shared with Val (and trust me that was a train wreck). He’s rough around the edges, short-tempered and isn't always easy to get along with, and he’s incredibly possessive which can be suffocating to deal with at times. This probably stems from him not wanting to actually be alone, He doesn't want you to slip out of his grasp, so he keeps a tight leash on you. But underneath all these flaws, he really does love you and care about you. At the end of the day, He just wants someone that will stay.

[feirceangel]

How about a feyd x reader where feyd has reader watch him in the arena to gain her favor. She is impressed with him and respects his prowess. Just before a huge match what if she goes to him and leaves a hand print in paint over his heart as her token rather than a sash like the others. This fires him up/ looks super cool on his skin.

Ooh I love this!! I did my own spin on it but I hope you still enjoy! :)

Imagine | Stained (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Word Count: 1,377

Warnings: biting

Cheers rise into the polluted air on Giedi Prime, a torrent of frenzied noise which alerts you to the occurrence of yet another gladiatorial event.

You hadn't realized there would be one today. Normally, you notice the announcements and the crowds gathering to go see the festivities. You don't often join them.

Watching people fight to death. . . it's not a habit of yours.

Lately though, you've noticed how often Feyd has been mentioning his fights, never outright asking you to watch them but leaving plenty of hints.

Being from a wealthy family has its benefits, especially on a harsh place such as this. Ever since you've been here, you've tried to make the best of it and befriend as many native Harkonnens as you can.

This first, and dare you say only, friend-adjacent connection you've made has been with Feyd-Rautha.

His brother is too animalistic and angry for your liking, and the Baron is a ghastly man you do not like to interact with. Servants won't speak to you and the Mentat Piter is sickening in his sadistic tendencies.

So, to your surprise, you got to know Feyd the best out of them all.

He's brutal, yes. Menacing and violent as well.

And so alone.

Sure, he has his concubines: his pets that he plays with but soon grows bored of. And yes, he has his mockery of a family: a predatory uncle and a nasty brother.

Yet you can see past his façade of aloofness, see into his inner self. And what you see is a man forged by others into what he is now.

You see a hurting man who doesn't know anything close to true kindness.

So yes, he is wild and vicious. But there is an intelligence and cunning within those dark eyes that you have seen countless times. 

He's constantly observing, waiting for his moment to strike. He knows how to play his hand to benefit himself.

Despite his more undesirable traits, you'd dare call him a friend.

The cheering dies down as colourless fireworks burst in the air like ink stains. You watch them, casually leaning against the balcony railing.

Feyd finds you immediately, half undressed and still painted for fighting in the triangular colosseum.

"My lady," he rasps, approaching from behind slowly. "You did not watch the fights."

"It slipped my mind," you reply honestly. "Though I have no doubts you remain the champion, my lord."

His lips quirk upwards, "Naturally."

Your eyes roam over his blood splattered body, taking in the well-defined muscles which are decorated with paint. He's shirtless, how could you not stare?

He basks in your attention, cocky smirk never leaving his face. But it strains once you turn your attention away.

Feyd comes to lean against the rail beside you. You feel his eyes on you.

"You're coming to the next fight," he finally says once he realizes you're content to dwell in the silence.

You turn to face him with a smile, "Am I?"

His eyes narrow, voice quick and sharp, "Yes."

"You didn't ask."

Feyd tilts his head, "It's not a request."

"A command, my lord?"

"Yes," he repeats, leaning closer into your space. Your teasing tone is getting under his skin, you can tell. He's almost touching you now but you don't retreat.

This is the game you play.

"I suppose I can attend the next fight," you hum thoughtfully.  "Especially since you've requested it personally."

He backs away slowly and you force yourself into staying still even as you desire to chase after him. His close proximity is intoxicating.

As if he senses your inner battle, he grins and nods to you before sauntering away.

"I will put on a good show for you, my lady."

You find yourself alone, wishing he had stayed longer.

~~~

It was not mentioned again, and now you find yourself in your room preparing for the event. You dress modestly, still unaccustomed to the fashions on Giedi Prime. A black dress does nicely, with your hair loose. 

You still have plenty of time before your attendance is necessary, but you traverse to the arena despite this. The hallways are as colorless as everywhere else, a maze of black and white. 

Feyd is being dressed as you enter the room. His sharp eyes betray a smidge of surprise which he masks underneath an air of haughtiness. 

The servants attending him walk on eggshells, knowing that any wrong move could cause their demise. 

"You may be dismissed," you say, addressing the servants. 

Their eyes flicker to you with uncertainty. The servants do not move until Feyd snarls, "Do as she says!"

Instantly, they are gone. 

And it's just you and the warrior. 

You approach him slowly, picking up the paint pot that the servant abandoned. Circling him, you note how his eyes never leave you, even when he has to twist his head to keep you in his sights. 

"My lord, I hope you can forgive my impertinence, showing up here unannounced."

"Don't be coy," he narrows his eyes, "You're not sorry."

"You're right," you chuckle, swirling the paintbrush through the inky paint. "I'm not sorry to see you, especially like this." 

You rake your eyes over his flesh, barely concealed by a cloth wrapped around his waist. He is truly a fine specimen of a man. 

"May I?" You ask, stopping in front of him. 

He inclines his head. He hadn't been expecting this, since you seemed intent on avoiding the fights entirely. 

You begin by painting the smaller rectangles across his chest and then move to his back. Your brushstrokes are slow, methodic.

He anticipates each cool touch as you meticulously paint his flawless skin. He wishes it was your touch he was feeling, your hands against his skin. He craves it.

Next, you adorn his abdomen, barely concealing the excitement you feel being this close to him. As you finish, he reaches for his clothes but you stop him with a hand on his arm. 

"I'm not finished, my lord."

Intrigued, he returns his arm to his side, staring you down. 

You coat the palm of your right hand with the inky black liquid, never breaking eye contact with Feyd. He doesn't stop you as you press your hand against his warm chest, right where his heart would be. 

You start to pull away, but he is quick to grip your wrist, keeping you in place. For a second, you are concerned that you went too far. Maybe this is the day he kills you for your insolence?

Instead, he lunges forward, catching you in a hungry kiss. He bites and takes, and you surrender with ease. A sense of relief and excitement floods your senses as you kiss back just as passionately.  

"It is fitting," he says once he parts from you. 

He watches as you slowly peel your hand from his skin, leaving a perfect handprint over his heart. 

"What is?"

"That you should mark me like this," he grins to reveal blackened teeth. "You are a stain on my heart."

"How so?" You're still breathless, allured by his gravelly voice. 

"All it longs for is your touch, you vixen."

You caress his cheek, "I'm just marking what I own. And once you're declared the victor, you can come claim what's yours." 

Your words ignite a fire in him and he starts forward but you step back. 

His glare is venomous, as if you just deprived him of oxygen. 

"You have a fight to win, Feyd. Shouldn't you be preparing?"

Turning, you begin to walk away. 

A rough hand snatches your shoulder, and a hot mouth is on your neck before you can blink. He bites down harshly, drawing spots of blood. The pain is expected when dealing with a man like Feyd, but it is still surprising. 

You really have gotten under his skin. 

He releases the pressure of his teeth and drags his tongue over the wound. 

"You needed a mark too, my sweet."

You turn and press a chaste kiss to the top of his head, "Go make me proud, Feyd. I shall see you in your chambers after the fight."

He lets you leave, watching with blood stained lips. 

"As you command, so it shall be."

[please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!]

[leona-hawthorne]

KINKTOBER #8– BUBBLE BATH / mattheo riddle

october 29th love making , thigh riding

mattheo riddle x fem reader

summary: a death eater attack had left you constantly paranoid, terrified to be left alone. and well… that’s how you ended up in a bathtub with your best friend

warnings: unprotected piv, thigh riding, love making— my fav <3, nipple play

words: 4.5k

a/n: only 2 more to go after this :(

navigation kinktober masterlist

After enduring the chaos of a Death Eater attack, the aftermath clung to you, simmering in every silence, and curling up in every shadow. The anxiety, raw and insistent, clawed at your mind in ways you never could’ve anticipated, refusing to allow even a moment of solitude. And so, here you were, tucked into the hot, sudsy confines of a bathtub, with Mattheo lounging across from you, separated only by a barricade of bubbles and the thin veneer of friendship that felt more fragile by the second.

He sat, arms stretched along the tub’s edge, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips as he caught your gaze lingering too long, daring you with those dark eyes. He was here because you had asked, no questions, no hesitation—he showed up like he always did, with that steady presence that both soothed you and, in the quiet hours of night, kept you awake with a restlessness you didn’t want to name.

“You look like you’re thinking too much,” he murmured, amusement flickering in his tone. “Dangerous territory for you.”

Your eyes narrowed, a hint of a smile betraying you. “Better than staring at me like some experiment,” you countered, feigning nonchalance even as the heat from his gaze seeped into your skin.

“Experiment?” His brows quirked, his smirk deepening. “Please, if I were experimenting, there’d be more… control involved.”

You scoffed, flicking water in his direction, and he laughed—a low, warm sound that settled in the space between you like a challenge. “Don’t act like you’re doing me a favor. I’m pretty sure you’re getting more out of this than I am.”

His hand moved to his chest in mock offense. “I’m deeply hurt. Here I am, the devoted friend, sacrificing myself in the line of duty to keep you from the horrors of solitude. And this is the thanks I get?”

You rolled your eyes, though a grin slipped through. “Please, Mattheo. We both know you’d jump at any excuse to play the hero.”

“Only if you’re the one I’m rescuing,” he replied smoothly, a glint in his eye. He leaned forward, bringing himself closer. The water shifted between you, and every inch of reduced distance made your pulse quicken, a relentless reminder of how long you’d been tangled up in these feelings you’d so carefully kept under wraps. You’d been in love with him since before you even realized what that meant—since he started showing up at your side without needing an invitation, since his laugh became the sound you looked for in a crowded room, since every brush of his hand felt like a silent promise he didn’t even know he was making.

“Careful,” you teased, managing to keep your tone steady, though you were sure he could see through you. “Wouldn’t want you to develop an ego on my account.”

“Oh, please,” he breathed, eyes trailing down your face to where your fingers absently traced the edge of the tub. “If anything, you’re keeping it in check.”

There was a moment, a beat suspended in the humid, soap-scented air, where neither of you spoke. He didn’t move away, and neither did you. It was like every unspoken word was simmering between you, begging to spill over, to drown out the silence.

Then he broke it with a smirk. “Besides, I’m providing a service here. Therapy, right? Isn’t that what friends do?”

You snorted, feeling your guard lower. “Yeah, right. Friends. That’s all we are, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he parroted, but there was something darker in his tone, something laced with a sarcasm that felt a little too close to the truth you were both pretending not to see. “I mean, I’m just your best friend, sitting naked in a tub with you because… therapy. Nothing weird about that.”

“Not weird at all,” you shot back, but your voice betrayed you, dipping softer. He didn’t miss it. The gleam in his eyes sharpened, and you knew he was toying with you, testing the limits like he’d always done, inching closer until the boundary between friends and something more was blurred beyond recognition.

“And here I thought you’d be a bit more appreciative,” he murmured, letting his hand drift under the water until his fingers grazed your knee, an innocent touch that felt anything but. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were taking advantage of my generosity.”

Your breath caught, and you feigned nonchalance, refusing to let him see the effect he had on you. “You’re just fishing for compliments now.”

His hand lingered, unmoving, his thumb brushing in a slow circle that made it harder to keep your voice steady. “Maybe,” he said, his voice low, “or maybe I’m just curious what you’d do if I… pushed a little.”

You raised an eyebrow, forcing a smirk despite the way your heartbeat thrummed louder with every inch he dared to close. “Oh, please. You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if I actually called your bluff.”

He leaned in, eyes gleaming with a challenge that felt like a knife’s edge between you. “Try me.”

But you just laughed, leaning back, keeping the tension taut. “Maybe I will. But not tonight,” you murmured, letting the words hang there, daring him to make the next move.

Mattheo’s smirk didn’t falter as he leaned back, watching you with a lazy kind of intensity that felt almost too much to handle under his steady gaze. He stretched his arms along the edge of the tub again, his shoulders rolling as if he were settling into something he fully intended to make you squirm through.

“Not tonight, huh?” he murmured, his tone a mix of challenge and amusement. “So, you’re saying there’s a chance?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the flush creeping up your cheeks. “Keep dreaming, Riddle.”

“Already am, sweetheart,” he replied smoothly, letting the endearment slip through as if it were the most natural thing in the world. His eyes didn’t leave yours, the playful warmth in them darkening just enough to make you shiver despite the heat of the water around you. “It’s kind of hard not to, when I’ve got you here… hanging on every word I say.”

You scoffed, masking the way his words sent a thrill up your spine. “Please, I’m not hanging on anything. I’m just here for the free therapy session, remember?”

“Right,” he drawled, drawing the word out as if tasting it. He tilted his head, feigning deep thought. “But, now that you mention it, I’m feeling a bit… tense myself. Kind of unfair for me to do all this hard work of comforting you, don’t you think?”

You narrowed your eyes, catching the glint of mischief in his gaze. “What exactly are you getting at, Mattheo?”

“Oh, nothing,” he said innocently, though his hand slid under the water, his fingers grazing your ankle. “Just thought, you know, since you’re already here… maybe a little back rub? My shoulders are practically begging for it after that whole Death Eater chaos.”

You snorted, folding your arms in mock indignation. “I’m the one who got attacked, and you want me to give you a massage?”

He shrugged, a lazy smile spreading across his lips. “Who said we can’t help each other out? Friends with… therapeutic benefits, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but a grin slipped through. “Fine. But if you get any ideas, I’m kicking you out of this tub.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said with a wink, shifting to turn his back to you, the water sloshing as he moved. “I’ll behave. Scout’s honor.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as you settled your hands on his shoulders, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palms. He was tense, and you worked your fingers along the knots in his muscles, kneading firmly as his head fell forward, a low groan slipping past his lips. The sound sent an unexpected jolt through you, and you focused harder on the massage, trying to ignore the fluttering in your chest.

“Gods… that feels incredible,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a tone that felt almost sinful. He glanced back at you, a sly grin tugging at his mouth. “Didn’t know you were so good with your hands.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you replied, playfully slapping his shoulder, though you couldn’t help but smile. “And don’t get any ideas, you little prick.”

He laughed, his head tilting back to meet your eyes, mischief dancing in his gaze. “Oh, come on. You know I’m harmless. Mostly.” His hand slipped beneath the water, tracing a slow path up your calf. His touch was warm, gentle, but possessive in a way that had your breath catching.

“Mattheo,” you warned, trying to sound stern, though there was an undeniable smile tugging at your lips.

“What?” he replied, feigning innocence, though his grip on your leg was firm. He slid his hand down to your ankle, his thumb brushing gentle circles that made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else. “Just keeping you close. Can’t have you all the way over there, right?”

You tried to keep your composure, but the way his fingers traced up your skin, each touch gentle and slow, was unraveling you. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He chuckled softly, leaning back into your touch as your hands continued their soothing rhythm on his shoulders. "Hey, someone's gotta bring a little excitement into your life," he teased, "Can't always rely on near-death experiences, now can we?" His hand drifted back to his side. “Seriously though, Y/N" he continued softly, "you've been through hell lately. If I can make you laugh, even just for a second... then I'm doing something right."

Your hands stilled on his shoulders as his words resonated through you, a lump forming in your throat. You pulled your hands away, leaning back against your side of the tub. “Turn around.”

The silence that followed was heavy, broken only by the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the tub. Mattheo turned back around, meeting your gaze, and for once, the usual spark of mischief was absent, replaced by a quiet understanding that made your heart ache.

Without thinking, you reached out, brushing a strand of damp hair from his forehead, fingertips lingering on his skin. The gesture felt intimate, exposing, and yet, in that moment, it was all you could manage.

Mattheo's breath hitched as your fingers brushed against his skin, the simple touch sending a shiver down his spine. He closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation, before opening them again to find you watching him intently.

There was a depth in your gaze that he'd never seen before— a vulnerability, a rawness that made his chest tighten. It was as if, in that instant, all the walls you'd built around yourself came crumbling down, leaving you bare and exposed.

Without warning, you surged forward in the water, closing the distance between you until your knees bumped against his hips. You placed your hands on either side of his face, fingers curling gently into his damp hair as you leaned in, your face inches from his as you stared at him with uncertain eyes.

Mattheo's eyes searched yours, his gaze burning with an intensity that seemed to pierce right through to your soul. "What are you doing, Y/N?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

His hands rose to cover yours, his thumbs stroking gentle patterns against the back of your palms as he held your gaze captive. There was a question in his eyes, a silent plea for guidance, for permission to cross the line he'd been tiptoeing around for so long.

The air between you crackled with tension, thick with the weight of unspoken desires and long-held secrets. In that moment, it felt as though the entire world had narrowed down to the space where your bodies touched, where your hearts raced in tandem.

"I..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. You cleared it, trying again. "I don't know what I'm doing," you admitted quietly, the truth spilling out of you like blood from a wound.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging gently as you leaned in closer, until your lips were a hair's breadth from his. Mattheo's breath hitched, his pulse pounding in his ears, drowning out every rational thought except one: he wanted this. He wanted you.

"Y/N," he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His hands slid up your arms, coming to rest on your shoulders as he drank in the sight of you— the flush in your cheeks, the dilation of your pupils, the slight parting of your lips.

He licked his lips nervously, his tongue darting out to wet the dryness. "Don’t do this to me. If you don't want this," he said, his voice low and urgent, "then tell me now. Because if you kiss me... if you let me kiss you..."

He trailed off, letting the implication hang heavy in the air between you.

Slowly, deliberately, you closed the remaining distance between you, pressing your mouth to his in a tender, exploratory kiss. It was chaste, almost innocent, but the effect was electric. A jolt of pleasure shot through you, settling in your belly like warm honey.

Mattheo responded immediately, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that took your breath away. His hands cupped your face, angling you deeper into the kiss as he poured all his pent-up longing into the embrace.

Mattheo's hands moved from your face to your waist, pulling you flush against him as the kiss deepened. A low groan rumbled in his chest as his tongue delved into your mouth, tangling with yours in a sensual dance.

The world fell away until there was nothing left but the two of you, entwined in the steaming water, lost in a haze of passion. His hands roamed over your body, mapping the curves and planes he'd dreamed about for so long. Every touch sent sparks of desire racing through your veins, pooling hot and heavy in your core.

When the need for air became too great, he broke the kiss, panting harshly against your lips.

Your fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders as you struggled to catch your breath, your mind reeling from the intensity of the kiss.

“I love you,” you admitted in a breathless whisper.

Mattheo froze for a heartbeat, his eyes widening at your confession. Then, with a growl of pure need, he surged forward, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hand fisted in your hair at the nape of your neck while the other splayed possessively across your lower back, pressing your bodies together until no space remained between you.

He kissed you like a man possessed, pouring every ounce of his love and desire into the heated press of his mouth against yours. When he finally pulled back, it was only far enough to rest his forehead against yours, his labored breaths mingling with your own.

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice raw with emotion. "Tell me you love me."

Your heart raced, pounding so loudly in your ears you could hardly hear anything else. But amidst the chaos, his words cut through clear as day. You loved him. With every fiber of your being, you loved this complex, infuriating, beautiful man who held you so tightly.

"I love you," you repeated, the words falling from your lips like a sacred vow. "I love you, Mattheo."

Mattheo captured your lips once more, his kiss fierce and demanding. When he finally broke away, it was only to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat.

He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, marking you as his own. Each touch of his lips sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, stoking the flames of desire that burned ever higher within you.

You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck to his hungry mouth. A soft moan escaped you as he kissed and nibbled, the sensation sending tingles down your spine. Your fingers threaded through his damp curls, holding him close as you arched into his touch.

Mattheo's hands explored your body with a reverence that belied their boldness just moments ago. They skimmed over your breasts, teasing the hardened nipples beneath the water's surface. You gasped, a shiver running through you at the contact.

Slowly, you shifted your position, maneuvering yourself to straddle one of his strong thighs. The move brought you even closer, your slick folds rubbing against the hardness of his leg in a way that made your head spin.

Mattheo's eyes widened as he watched you straddle his thigh, his gaze drinking in the sight of you. His hands gripped your hips, the water sloshing around you both as you started to move. Each roll of your hips against his leg sent a jolt of neediness through him, making his cock twitch in anticipation.

"Oh God, Y/N," he whispered, his voice strained with desire. "This is fucking killing me." His thumbs brushed over your hipbones, tracing the curve of your body as he marveled at the woman he loved using him to get herself off.

Mattheo's breathing grew ragged as he stared up at you, his eyes dark with lust and adoration. "Use me however you need," he urged, his voice barely above a rasp. "I want to make you feel good, Y/N. So damn good."

Your movements intensified, growing more urgent as you chased the building pleasure. Each rub of your clit against his thigh sent sparks of ecstasy shooting through your core. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the moans that threatened to escape, but they still managed to slip past your control.

"Mattheo, I—," you panted, your hips grinding harder against his leg. "I've never...it's never been like this." Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging gently as you gazed down at him with a mix of awe and raw need.

Mattheo's eyes locked onto yours, his pupils blown wide with arousal. He could see the struggle in your expression, the war between inhibitions and the desperate craving for release. It only made him harder, his cock throbbing with the need to be inside you.

"You don't know how many nights I've fantasized about this," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "About touching you, feeling you come apart in my arms." His hands slid up your sides, splaying across your back as he pulled you down for another searing kiss.

Mattheo's tongue delved into your mouth, stroking against yours in a rhythm that mimicked the movement of your hips. He devoured you, drinking in every moan and gasp as he lost himself in the taste and scent of you.

His hand slipped beneath the water's surface, wrapping around his aching cock. He stroked himself in time with the movement of your hips, the sight of you losing yourself on his thigh paired with the sensation of his own tight fist pushing him rapidly towards the edge.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned against your mouth, his hips bucking up into his own grip. "You're so goddamn sexy. Watching you take what you need… You fucking love using me like this, don’t you?” He trailed off with a shuddery exhale, his thumb swiping over the tip of his cock.

Mattheo's other hand slid down to cup your ass, squeezing the rounded flesh as he helped guide your movements. "That's it, baby," he encouraged, his voice low and rough. "Ride my thigh, beautiful girl. Let go for me."

A cry tore from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Your inner walls clenched around nothing, spasming in the aftershocks of your climax.

Your movements slowed, becoming less frantic as you rode out the intensity of your orgasm. The sloshing of the water stilled in a few moments time as the rolling of your hips ceased. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to Mattheo's lips before pulling back to catch your breath.

Mattheo's chest heaved with ragged breaths as he watched you come undone, his own climax looming just out of reach. The vision of your face contorted in bliss, your body trembling with the force of your release, pushed him over the edge. With a guttural groan, he jerked his hips up, spilling his release into the bathwater.

As the final tremors subsided, Mattheo collapsed back against the tub, his breathing heavy and eyes fixated on you like he couldn’t believe this moment was real.

“It’s not enough. Not even fucking close,” he murmured. “I want you give you pleasure you’ve never known, Y/N. I want to touch you absolutely fucking everywhere.”

Slowly, you shifted your weight, moving to straddle his lap fully. The new position pressed your slick folds against his semi-hard length, drawing a hiss from both of you. You leaned in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you spoke.

"I want that too, Teo," you confessed, your voice low and sultry.

Your hips rolled experimentally, grinding against him in a slow, sensual motion. The friction reignited the embers of your desire, stoking them into a smoldering flame once more.

"Show me," you mumbled, hand trailing up to play with the hair at the back of his head. “Touch me absolutely fucking everywhere.”

Mattheo's hands slid up your thighs, gripping your hips tightly as he guided your movements. His hips bucked up to meet yours, his hardening length sliding against your slick folds in a delicious tease.

"Fuck, Y/N," he growled, his voice rough with renewed desire. "You're going to be the death of me."

His hands roamed your body, mapping out every dip and curve as he explored your sensitive skin. They cupped your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples in feather-light touches that made you gasp.

"Teo," you whimpered, your hips starting to rock against him with increasing urgency. The pressure against your clit built with each movement, stoking the flames of your arousal higher.

Your hands found their way to his chest, nails digging into his skin as you held on for support. The sensation of his hardness rubbing against your sensitive nub had you teetering on the brink of another climax.

"Please," you panted, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own ragged breathing. "I need...I need you inside me."

Mattheo's hands left your breasts to slide down your sides, his fingers trailing fire along your skin until they reached the juncture of your thighs. He hooked them under your ass, lifting you slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance.

"You want my cock, baby?" he asked, his voice a low, husky purr. "Tell me how badly you need it.”

You nuzzled your face into his neck. The only word you could manage was a meek, “please.”

With your permission hanging precariously in the air, Mattheo surged upward, burying himself deep inside you with one smooth thrust.

A sharp cry tore from your throat as Mattheo filled you completely, his thickness stretching you in the most exquisite way. Your body instinctively clamped down around him, the sudden fullness leaving you breathless.

"Merlin, Y/N," he breathed, his forehead resting against yours as he savored the feel of being inside you. "You're perfect."

"Yes, oh god yes," you managed to gasp out, your nails scraping down his back as you adjusted to the intrusion. The warmth of the bathwater surrounded you both, the gentle lapping of the liquid against your entwined bodies.

Mattheo's hips began to move, withdrawing slowly before plunging back in with deliberate care. Each stroke was a tender exploration, as if he were savoring every inch of your welcoming heat. Your knees straddled his hips, squeezing tight as if you’d never let go.

Mattheo's hands gripped your hips, holding you steady as he started to move within you with long, deep strokes. The water around you churned gently with each thrust, creating a mesmerizing display of steam and ripples.

He leaned forward, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss as he continued to make love to you. His tongue danced with yours, mirroring the rhythm of his hips. Mattheo broke the kiss to trail his mouth down your jawline, nipping and sucking at your pulse point.

“Feels like you were made for me," he whispered, his hot breath fanning across your skin. "So warm and tight around me. I could stay like this forever."

Your head lolled back as Mattheo worshiped your neck with kisses and nibbles, his words sending shivers down your spine. Each drag of his lips against your sensitive flesh seemed to awaken nerves you didn't know existed.

Your hips rose and fell in tandem with his thrusts, meeting him halfway as you chased the building pleasure. The wet slap of skin against skin mingled with your moans and the splash of the water, creating an erotic symphony.

One of your hands slid up to tangle in his hair, keeping his face pressed to your neck as you reveled in the sensations he evoked. The other gripped his shoulder, fingernails biting into the muscle as your orgasm approached.

"S-so fucking g-good," you gasped out, your voice strained with impending ecstasy. "Don't stop, please don't stop."

Mattheo's lips trailed lower, finding a pert nipple and wrapping his mouth around it. He sucked gently, his tongue flicking over the hardened peak as he continued to thrust into you.

The dual stimulation—his cock buried deep inside you and his mouth worshiping your breast—sent you hurtling towards the edge. Your back arched, pressing your tit further into his mouth as your inner walls clenched around him.

"Ahh, Matt!" you cried out, your voice high and desperate. "Right there! Oh fuck, right there..."

With a final, harsh suck, Mattheo released your nipple just as your orgasm crashed over you. Waves of pleasure rippled through your body, your vision blurring as you came undone in his arms. Your pussy spasmed around his length, milking him as he drove into you with relentless passion.

Your body shuddered violently as your climax washed over you, the intensity stealing your breath away. Stars exploded behind your eyelids as wave after wave of pure bliss radiated from your core, suffusing every nerve ending with electric tingles.

Mattheo's name spilled from your lips like a prayer, a mantra repeated over and over as you rode out the crest of your release. Your inner muscles fluttered and squeezed around his pistoning length, trying to draw him deeper still.

Through the haze of your orgasm, you felt Mattheo's movements change. His thrusts became erratic, his grip on your hips tightening almost painfully as he neared his own peak. With a hoarse groan, he buried himself deep inside you one last time, his cock pulsing as he came.

Mattheo collapsed back against the edge of the porcelain, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His forehead rested on your shoulder, his hot exhales tickling your damp skin.

He lifted his head to gaze at you with adoration shining in his brown eyes. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I love you so much it… it scares me."

With all the emotions bubbling up inside you, you couldn’t stop a single tear from rolling down your cheek and mixing with the bathwater. "I love you too, Matt," you replied, your voice trembling. "So fucking much.“

kinktober taglist: @mattheoriddles-slutt @theeslutintheroom @esmerai-artemis @gigival @cloudyyydayzzz @sn000py @abeoavita @yesiamthatwierd @shaquilles-0atmeal @roseofsharron438 @iouinotes @romantasyreader28 @c3liaaaaa @sleepiibunniiii @chemtrailsoverhogwarts @daenerystorgaryen @catching-fire-in-the-wind @emma-grace0 @tori-303 @ilovehpb0ys

[sanakiras]

LIAR, LIAR!

PAIRING — kim mingyu x fem!reader

❝ AND THE DANCE FLOOR IS FILLING UP WITH BLOOD, BUT OH LORD, YOU’VE NEVER BEEN SO IN LOVE! ❞

WORD COUNT — 13.5k

SYNOPSIS — in a dramatic turn of events, a rich businessman is found dead in his lavish estate, and the authorities believe it was no accident. as the detectives dig deeper, they ultimately end up with two key suspects: you, the businessman’s very own daughter, and your sworn enemy, kim mingyu. as the time progresses, tensions rise and secrets spill — and the truth has the power to either bring you closer together or tear you apart.

TAGS — murder mystery, rich rivals to partners in crime to lovers, whole lotta plot, explicit sexual content, somewhat graphic depictions of death, everyone and everything is dysfunctional™, mentions of suicide, unrealistic circumstances, moral compass is nowhere to be found, angst, medium long hair!gyu bc self-indulgence, tsundere-ish reader again guys sorry i love her so bad, mentions of parental neglect, this ended up so long help

♪ verydeadly - wolves (kanye west cover),, low - dancing and blood,, vessel - red sex,, florence + the machine - mermaids,, zayn - bordersz,, mikky ekko - who are you, really?,, q - alone,, danna paola - tenemos que hablar,, blue foundation - eyes on fire (4 ave version),, summer camp - i want you

NOTE — one of my favorite episodes of going seventeen remains bad clue 2020, i loved mingyu’s role in it and i could totally see him portraying darker/morally grey characters and rock tf out of it so. i wrote this solely based on that idea. the music recs above are also really nice to get into the vibe! enjoyyyy :D

[ RETURN TO PART ONE ] ✧˚ · .⋆ ★ [ TWO ]

viii. I LOVE YOU LIKE A DRUG

november has a harsh cold to it that goes right through the skin of your cheeks. with your long black coat and matching gloves, you walk through the city, heading towards your lawyer’s office.

it’s been a few days since you last saw or talked to mingyu. you’ve been thinking about the kiss constantly, unable to stop it from clouding your mind. it’s hard to believe you hated his guts for years and completely changed your opinion on him within months — he took you by surprise on that. which you’re not sure how you feel about.

it’s as if his handprints were etched into your skin. you can still remember exactly how it felt, where they were. more importantly, perhaps, you know what your mind keeps leading to when the memory runs through your head.

that you want nothing more than for him to put his hands on you again. you want him so much that you have to clench your fists and tell yourself to get it together.

the universe must like to mess with you, as you receive a text from him at that exact moment. stopping in your tracks on the street, you’re just about to read it when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

once you’ve looked up from your phone, you see the devil himself standing there with a meek little smile on his face, which has you scoffing when he greets you. “hi.”

his dark hair is slicked back as he sports a thick winter jacket, jeans and black shoes. god, he’s handsome. why is he so annoying?

instead of responding to his greeting, you just speak your mind. “what’re you doing here?”

“chan mentioned you had an appointment in the neighborhood, so here i am. i wanted to see you.”

“why?”

“what, am i not allowed to visit my partner in crime?”

you purse your lips. “i thought we both agreed on discretion regarding our relationship.”

“and what kind of relationship is that?”

“an understanding.” your response comes out colder than anticipated, but you stick with it. “look, gyu, what we did… we probably shouldn’t do it again.”

he seems surprised. and a little disappointed, which he hides very quickly, but not quick enough.

so he pouts at you, doing his best not to dwell on it. “okay. any particular reason?”

you inhale sharply, trying to give him the best possible excuse you can come up with. “we agreed to keep it professional, didn’t we?”

“we did.” he nods, speaking in a way as if he were focusing on something else. “is that all there is to it? or do you have another reason?”

his gaze is playful, which makes you smile as you look down at your feet for a moment. “i’m sure you can fill the blanks.”

“interesting choice of words.”

“god, you’re such a perv.”

mingyu laughs when you punch his shoulder, his hand comfortable on your lower back. you don’t swat it away, utterly contradicting your previous words, but you can’t find it in yourself to care that much.

two days later, you’re over at his apartment, continuing your research where you left off last week, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining things, but it feels like there is a palpable tension in the air. soft rain taps against the windows while you’re looking at some security footage his friend seungkwan sent over about an hour ago.

with the two of you sitting beside eachother as you’re looking at the screen of your laptop, you find it difficult to focus on the footage, because you feel electrified by his mere presence. it’s ridiculous. he accidentally brushes your knee with your hand, and you feel a rush going through your body. a candle is lit on the table — his tan skin looks beyond beautiful, his brown eyes piercing through yours like never before.

you want him.

you. want. him. and no one else.

it’s driving you nuts, and as if he can read your mind, he begins to talk about it.

“i haven’t been able to stop thinking about our kiss.”

while the footage keeps playing in the background, you bite your lip, sucking in a breath. “gyu.” you say his name in a near scolding manner.

“do you like me?” he suddenly turns his head to face you, which feels borderline intrusive. like he’s able to see everything that’s going on in your head and heart.

it steals your breath, making your voice sound somewhat strained as a result, and you can’t even bring yourself to lie about it any longer. “i might.”

“i like you. a lot.” he says, and when you think he’s getting closer to you, you stand up from your seat, doing whatever you need to do to get it back together. you don’t want him to know how you really feel, so you clench your fists in your place, your back facing him.

“what does it matter? we’re nothing more than partners. that’s all there is to it.”

as you shake your head to yourself, he gets up as well, moving to stand behind you. “is that why you kissed me?”

“it was just the heat of the moment.”

“you’re a good liar — but not that good.” mingyu shamelessly eyes your body up and down, and when you look over your shoulder, he meets your gaze with something that appears to resemble pride, in a way.

arrogance, perhaps.

for whatever reason, that ticks something off in you. “you want me to be honest? fine. i don’t want to like you, mingyu. i didn’t want to enjoy that kiss. i’ve spent years hating you to the bone, and changing that opinion on you feels like betraying myself.”

he blinks at your sudden and blunt confession, but it’s honest and clear to him.

then he nods in understanding.

“just… hypothetically, if i said i wanted to kiss you again, what would you do?”

you notice a clear difference in his tone, his breathing, his eyes dropping down to your lips — oh, he’s fucking turned on. he knows you want him as badly as he wants you. you both know it.

“i’d tell you it was a one-time thing.”

he gets closer to you, eyelids hanging low and the hint of that damn smirk tugging at his mouth. “how about one more? for good measure. just to get our rocks off.”

the proposition is almost laughable, yet you selfishly find yourself agreeing. “just once?”

“just once.” the palm of his hand cups your jaw, and you know you’re done for when you lean in first, causing him to smile triumphantly right before his lips lock with yours.

this is what you’ve both been yearning for the past week. now that you have it, it feels like drugs, almost — addicting.

you kiss him with vigor, and his tongue slips into your mouth, leaving you aching for more. it’s when his hand pulls you closer by your waist that you force yourself to back away from him, both you and him gasping for air.

“gyu, we were supposed to—”

“keep things professional, i know,” he breathes out, his forehead resting against yours as if he has to make the biggest decision of his life, “but i don’t want to anymore.”

his hands are still on your waist, trailing down to the flesh of your upper legs, and he squeezes it, feeling sick at the idea of someone touching you there that’s not him.

“need you so bad. please — let me touch you.”

looking at his desperate form for a moment, you internally decide to go for whatever your body wants — and that’s to have him tonight.

so you roll your eyes, pulling him to you by his black t-shirt, your hands on the back of his neck before he can comprehend it. he hoists you up by the back of your thighs, taking you to his spacious bedroom.

your back touches the soft bed within seconds. his hands continue to glide up and down your body, and he subtly puts his one hand underneath the hem of your shirt, fingers touching your warm skin, and you almost forget to breathe.

mingyu feels your fingers pulling at the waistband of his jeans, and he relishes in how eager you are. he kisses your neck and moves lower painfully slowly, causing you to writhe underneath him, because you need him now.

it’s certainly a first for you to have such a need and desperation to fuck someone. and for him, of all people. if you had known about this in the morning, you wouldn’t have believed it.

but then again, the tension has been brewing between you two for years, reaching its highest point over the last couple weeks.

maybe he was onto something when he suggested for you to fuck him back in the strip club.

his lips are touching your bare stomach, and you show a hint of dominance by undoing the buttons of your pants and shoving down your panties, putting your hand on his head to guide it between your legs.

and he just lets you.

he takes your pants and underwear from your ankles and discards the pieces on the floor, hands on the back of your thighs once more as he pushes them to lean over his shoulders.

the first few seconds are spent basking in his excitement. his heart races when he looks you in the eye, and he grins to himself before diving in.

for some reason, he feels this primal urge to prove himself to you, to make you feel good like no one ever has before.

whatever the hell it is that made him have such a massive change of heart, he doesn’t know.

but he does know one thing — he worships the ground you walk on.

so to hear you gasp and whine for him when he eats you out only spurs him on to keep going, to make it dirtier and messier and keep having you moan his name.

mingyu encourages you to pull on his hair, and with each strand being pulled, he grows harder in his pants. he moans at the pain, humming against your pussy while his tongue is buried inside you.

you’re grinding against his face and he hums again, loving the feeling. “rub it in my face, baby, ‘s so good—” he babbles as his cock is rock-hard and throbbing against the fabric of his jeans, and he rubs his hard-on against the matress to get any kind of friction.

over the course of the years, even while hating him, you wondered if he was good in bed.

you didn’t think your question was going to be answered by first-hand experience.

he’s not only sickeningly good at providing pleasure — he seems to get off on it, too. your fingers clamp on his long strands of hair, thighs around his head, almost suffocating him, and even when you hit your first climax, he just keeps going. his tongue moves as if you’re not completely crumbling before him.

with a sudden sensitivity hitting you, you have to pull his face from your pussy, and he looks at you with lust-blown eyes and your wetness smeared over his lips and chin.

yeah, you fucking like him. jesus.

the little fang-shaped teeth he has show themselves when he grins at the mess he’s made of you. “want me to go again?”

“would you?”

“i’d keep going for hours if that’s what you want.”

pressing your lips together, you inhale deeply, ‘cause he looks like he means it, too. “well, as great as that sounds, i want you in me. now.”

he would’ve had a damn field trip eating you out again, but he certainly won’t complain, because he’s about to bust in his pants from just looking at you. his eyes return to your figure when you take your shirt off, dick twitching when you unclasp your lacy bra and show your completely bare body to him.

“are you just gonna keep staring?” you ask teasingly, and he needs a few seconds to get his brain running again, chuckling at your words before he removes his own clothes, pushing you back to lay you down.

“can’t help that i like what i see.”

you’re about to give him a witty retort in return when you feel the tip of his cock at the entrance of your hole, pushing forward just the slightest bit, and your lashes flutter at the sensation. he bites his lower lip at the feeling, a sudden intensity hitting the both of you.

then he pushes himself inside, inch by inch, achingly slowly. your brows scrunch together and you throw your head back, manicured nails digging into his bedsheets.

“hah—gyu—” you mumble, tension setting into your shoulderblades as he stretches you open, and you’re so tight that he feels just as suffocated as you do.

“fuck, you’re fucking tight.” he huffs out, utterly savoring your wetness wrapping around him. “can i keep going?”

at hearing the question, a breathy laugh escapes you. “how fucking big are you to have to ask that?”

“well, ‘m only halfway in right now, baby.”

fucking hell. the look on your face is borderline horrified, because jesus, you’re gonna need to adjust to him.

he lowers his chest to hover above yours, and your hands immediately move to his back, nails aching to dig into his skin. he’s only focused on your face now, and he pushes himself in all the way, watching your face contort in pain and pleasure.

your body stiffens for a second before it relaxes, and he has to hold down the urge to start moving. “that’s it. took me all the way in,” he mutters, and you nod to yourself, accidentally clamping down on him, at which he groans.

the first movements are small, slow — gentle. you release long, dragged-out moans that are the single hottest thing he’s ever heard. but he needs more, needs to get rid of the little voice in his head to fuck you hard and stupid.

he pulls out almost entirely before slamming back in, and the erotic whine you let out is just too good to his ears.

so he does it again, again, again. he fucks you to the point a different part of him takes over, ruthlessly seeking the pleasure and pain that gets him off like nothing else. he likes it fast, hard, and deep, and by the looks of it, you do too.

you’re clinging onto him with every thrust, every kiss, every moan, and he loves it.

mingyu moans, eyebrows knitted together as he’s hypnotized by the feeling of himself sheathed all the way inside you. “take it — take my fucking cock.”

“mhm. a little harder — please?” you beg, and if he wasn’t in love with you yet, he certainly is now. how on earth do you look as gorgeous as you do whilst half fucked-out, still needing more?

naturally, he gives in to you, doing whatever you ask of him. he fucks you harder, his grip on your waist tightening with each thrust.

you come to one conclusion — you don’t think anyone’s ever fucked you this good.

his mouth latches onto your tits, sucking at your nipples, and you bring his head up to kiss him again. it’s sloppy, and his movements begin to slow a little, your wetness dripping down his cock. “god, you’re fucking perfect.”

“want more, gyu. i want you to cum in me.”

“you—” he stutters out, “you want it?”

nodding at him, you even push yourself against him, his cock sinking just a little deeper into you.

so he fucks you as hard as he can until he feels himself hitting that blissful climax, continuing to roll his hips and stuff you as full of him as possible. then he sits up with a thin layer of cold sweat on his back, and he pulls himself out as slowly as he entered you, watching drops of cum seep out of your hole.

“so much for professional.” you breathe out, after which you both chuckle, and he leans in to kiss you again, and you get on top of him, taking charge, and he shivers in anticipation.

the night becomes an increasing blur with every kiss, every touch, every thrust — it’s hard to say what time it is or how many times you’ve gone at it when you finally let yourself sink into a deep sleep.

when you wake up beside him in the morning, you watch his sleeping form, your heart flutters.

it’s bizarre how he’s made you feel a kind of love you didn’t even know existed before. a feeling of great complexity and intensity that’s settled deep into your gut whenever he’s near.

as if he’s become a part of you that you can’t let go.

checking your phone, you know it’s time to get up, since you’ve got an important agenda today. yet when you try to silently slip away from his bed, you feel a warm hand on yours.

“don’t go.” he pleads, his voice lower and raspier than usual from sleeping. there’s a certain desperation in his now open eyes, and it affects you.

“i have to. appointments i can’t cancel, you know what that’s like—”

but he’s not talking about your day.

“i’m afraid of people leaving me,” he suddenly admits with a shaky tone, “and i like what we have. i like you. i guess i’m scared that… this was just a one-time thing, ‘cause it wasn’t for me. i don’t want to go back to what we were before all of this.”

processing his words, you nod, touching his cheek, reassuring him. “it wasn’t a one-time thing for me, either. you have me, i promise.”

“okay.” he gently smiles at you, his fingers caressing yours, and you lean in to press a kiss onto his lips, which he immediately reciprocates.

you give him a quick goodbye after putting your clothes on, and he’s left smiling to himself in bed while you walk out of his apartment with the same expression.

but you should know by now that all good things come to an end — one way or another.

ix. WHO ARE YOU, REALLY?

the two weeks since your first time sleeping together have been nothing but excitingly ignorant bliss. in between his meetings and family commitments and your meetings regarding your father’s business relations, you’ve been meeting eachother in the middle at every opportunity, the investigation of your father’s death fading into the background bit by bit, getting lowered on your list of priorities.

none of your friends are aware of your relationship – since it’s a secret, and neither of you have really labelled it yet – as far as you know, anyway.

being with him is comfortable to you, and surprisingly enough, he’s the first person who’s made you feel like you could breathe properly after the chaos that your father’s death caused.

“do you really have to go out at this hour?”

“yeah, unfortunately.” he presses a kiss to your lips before pulling his shirt on while you’re still naked on his bed. “i’ll be back as soon as i can, but you don’t have to wait for me, okay? it’s probably gonna take a while.”

with a sigh, you nod, pouting a little. “okay. i’ll probably go take a shower and head home after.”

he kisses the top of your head this time, and it all feels awfully domestic.

but it’s a good feeling.

mingyu takes in the sight of your bare face and body covered in nothing but his sheets, and he feels like things were meant to be like this. like you two were always indirectly tied together, and now this is your reality.

“you’re allowed to stay as long as you want. i’ll call you later, baby, yeah?” he hums against your lips, and you nod, wanting nothing more than to pull his shirt off and drag him back into bed with you.

“mhm. you should go, or you’ll be late.”

he chuckles, his mouth grazing the top of your hand before he exits the room, slinging his bag over his shoulder and leaving you alone in his apartment.

after taking a short nap, you decide to get up and take a quick shower.

this might be the first time you’re completely on your own in his place — so you feel like checking out what he’s got lying around here.

it’s not because you don’t trust him, truly. you just like to snoop around a little, out of curiosity.

you peek into his drawers, his closet, his personal things, except for what he’s got kept under lock and key.

what intrigues you are the clear scratches on the floor by the cupboard. everything in his apartment is perfectly clean and clearly well taken care of, so this makes you raise a brow.

you figure the scratches were made by moving the cupboard to the side, so you do the same thing, trying to see if there’s a particular reason for it.

it’s hard to contain a scoff once you lay your eyes on what is apparently hiding behind it.

a safe hidden behind a cupboard. seriously? did he take inspiration from your father’s office or something? this is starting to get a bit weird.

the safe seems to require a code with six digits to be unlocked, and since the system and mechanics seem on the older side, you doubt it would send off any signals if someone tried out a wrong code.

biting your lip, you give in to your curiosity, and try out a few codes.

a popular choice for codes are always birthdays, often loved ones, and since mingyu is a complete softie in that regard, you figure it might be worth trying out.

you remember his father’s birthday from the tombstone at the graveyard where your father was buried as well. his mother celebrated her birthday last week, so that’s easy.

unfortunately, neither of the codes work.

fuck, what was his sister’s birthday again? you don’t remember. then an idea pops up in your head – she probably made a birthday post on social media at some point. you search the username and scan her profile, and within a minute, you’ve found it.

with your phone in hand, eyes going from the screen to the rotating dials, you enter the code, and the sound of a clicking lock causes your heartbeat to quicken.

it worked.

throwing your phone onto the bed, you open the safe, several items catching your eye.

there’s quite some things in there considering it’s such a small space. some stacks of money, a few vials with clear liquids in them, a gun, a passport with his photo but a different name – what the fuck is this? his backup plan to start a new life in case he needs it? that’s close to paranoid, especially for a guy who seemingly has no enemies.

behind the piles of dollar bills, you find a few old-fashioned cassette recorders stacked up, each of them numbered from one to ten.

as your curiosity gets the better of you once more, you take the recorders out of the safe and put them on the floor, where you sit down to listen to whatever’s on them.

you click the button at the back of the device, noise beginning to crack through the small speaker.

“i know recording myself confessing to something as grave as this could be my downfall, but… it’s something i need to get off my chest. i need to.” your hear him inhale sharply. “i’m setting a plan in motion that will lead to someone’s death. it’s not something i’m proud of, but he’s threatening my family. i don’t know what else to do.”

your eyes widen as you listen to the rest of the tape. he’s talking about killing your father, using a poison to take him out. once it’s finished, you look for the second tape with shaky fingers.

“getting it done shouldn’t be hard. the real issue is having an alibi, and if necessary, i need someone to put the blame on. the death of someone as important as him will draw attention, so should they assume he didn’t die of natural causes, they’re gonna want to convict someone. i can only think of one person who fits the criteria — his daughter.”

it’s like the confirmation you’ve been waiting for. this is what he’s been hiding all this time. of course he didn’t want to help you without an ulterior motive.

your heart breaks the moment he says it. just how much of a fool have you been?

“we’ve always hated eachother. looking back, i’m not sure how it started, but it did. she’s the only one who could have a solid motive. i don’t want to frame her, or anyone for that matter, but if the police decide it’s not an accident, i’ll have no other choice. maybe her lawyer can find a way around it.”

tape three.

“the plan is to pretend i have a lead on the killer when i’m actually planting fake evidence to make her seem like the culprit. i talked to her in the graveyard today, but she completely lashed out at me. it’s hard to tell who she hates more — me, her father, or herself. though i didn't know her hatred for me ran this deep, nor that she was this lonely. i kind of feel for her.”

tape four.

“she just agreed to be my date to the gala next week, though she's certainly not thrilled about it. understandably so, i guess. she's quite intimidating when she’s mad. maybe i should take notes, seeing how she always stands so firmly on business.”

tape five.

“i didn’t think she’d go as far as to go through my room. she’s more determined than i gave her credit for. god, i could barely keep it together when she said whoever killed her father did her a favor. it’s maybe the only good thing about this whole mess. i wanted to scream, tell her that it was me who did her that favor.”

tape six.

“leave it to her to interrupt a stripper’s lap dance and take me with her instead. the man taking money out of her father’s account was hired by me — i needed to subtly prove to her that it couldn’t have been me, ‘cause i was at the other side of the city when it happened. i was curious to see if she’d take the bait, and she did. she mentioned something about wanting someone who would let her be… uninhibited. it scared and surprised me; mostly because i want the exact same.”

tape seven.

“we broke into her father’s office together. it was… thrilling. exciting. she keeps surprising me with how daring she is. somewhere underneath that hard surface hides someone who’s aching for adventure, i think. maybe we’re more similar than i thought. and she’s so clever, i just—i like her. like, platonically, of course. we work well together. i should probably be more careful, try not to get too close. who knows what that might lead to.”

tape eight.

“i kissed her. i fucking kissed her. well, she kissed me first, but… i kept it going. not just a little peck, no, a full-on makeout session. it was… the type of kiss they talk about in the romance novels. i’ve never felt that big of a need to kiss someone before. and she’s so gorgeous, too. i wonder if she’s thinking about it as much as i am right now.”

tape nine.

“wonwoo says i have feelings for her, in a way. i… i feel like there’s no going back if i acknowledge it. but there's something about her, it's like... i'm not sure. like she and i are on the same wavelength. we’re so different yet so similar.”

tape ten.

“the police are tightening their grip. they wanna name the culprit, and fast. i’ve thought of turning myself in, but i’ll ruin the family name if i do that. my mom and sister will be cast out if that happens. and then there’s… her. god, she’s become so special to me. i can’t go through with it — i can’t. the idea of losing her makes me feel suffocated. fuck, i don’t know what to do.”

and just like that, you close your eyes for a moment.

everything falls into place.

putting the final tape to the side, your cheeks are wet from the tears that have been silently rolling down your cheeks ever since you hit the first play button.

he doesn’t really like you — of course he doesn’t. he’s just using you for his own gain, to cover up his crime.

it’s then that the heavy sobs come out. you utterly fall apart, feeling weak and manipulated and alone.

terrifyingly alone, more than ever before.

but you force yourself to stop crying by telling yourself that you won’t allow him to use you anymore. you need to be steps ahead of him now that he’s not aware of you knowing this information, so you wipe your tears away and play all the tapes again, but this time with your phone making recordings of each one of them.

overcome by your emotions, you feel ready to throw up.

whatever you’re about to do, it’ll probably come back to bite you in the ass later, but you don’t care. not anymore. everything’s already gone to hell anyways.

when mingyu arrives at his apartment a few hours later, it’s empty. he frowns when noticing that your clothes and things you had lying around are all gone, but shrugs it off, believing you probably had a good reason for taking them back home.

but when he calls you the next day, you don’t pick up. you don’t answer any of his texts. your staff by the gate tells him that no visitors are allowed into the driveway, meaning he can’t even get to your front door anymore.

something’s happened. he just doesn’t know what.

long after he’s had his dinner, the rain comes pouring down from the dark clouds in the sky, thunder rumbling in the distance as you make your way to the front door of mingyu’s apartment.

he instantly notices something is very wrong once he lays eyes on you. you look like you’ve just gone through hell and back.

you let yourself in before he can say anything, so he closes the door behind you, confusion painted across his face. “i’ve been calling you — what’s going on? did something happen?”

oh, the question immediately pisses you off even more than you already are. this is about to be fun. “well, you’d know.” you grumble.

“know what?”

“that you killed my fucking father.”

the words strike like lightning. you finding out about the truth certainly wasn’t part of the plan, and since you seem so convinced, he doesn’t have much faith in trying to convince you of his innocence.

when his surprised expression fades, you finally see the truth written all over his face. his jaw is clenched tight, lips pressed together into a thin line, and he suddenly looks very guilty. “how… how did you find out?”

“the tapes. who the fuck records their own confession to murder? were you trying to get me to find out?” you rhetorically ask, eyes blazing fire.

mingyu huffs to himself. he knew he shouldn’t have kept those tapes — fuck.

“look, i—” he swallows, attempting to mend the situation, but you don’t let him speak.

“no. you’re going to tell me exactly what you did and why you did it. you owe me that much.”

he flinches, closing his eyes for a moment, lowering his head, his way of showing he accepts his defeat. “your dad… i always thought he wanted me around because he liked me, but after all those years, that turned out to be a lie. i found out he was blackmailing my mom with evidence of my father’s wrongdoings before his passing — fraud, embezzlement, all of that. we’re talking millions of dollars here. the damage it would’ve done to my family if that ever came out… it’s something i had to prevent. hell, i wouldn’t be surprised if he was the one behind my dad’s car accident. so i did what i thought was necessary.”

you can only scoff. “of course. how noble of you.”

“i’m sorry.” he tells you, but it’s a lie. your father was a despicable man, loved by no one. not really, anyway.

“if you’re going to lie to me, at least do it well.” you scold him, turning away from him for a moment, looking at the rain outside through the large windows of his apartment. “how did you kill him? i wanna hear you say it.”

“can’t we talk about—”

interrupting him, you turn around, the pistol from his safe in your hand, and it’s pointed at him. he anxiously awaits your next move.

“don’t make me ask again. i don’t particularly feel like repeating myself.”

he shudders at the view of the gun pointed at him, but does what you tell him to. “i poisoned him. he had no idea, didn’t suspect me at all. i told him to go home, so he’d die there.”

“where i would be, too. perfect plan, huh?”

“the plan was to make it look like a death from natural causes. the poison would be out of his system by the time the authorities were to perform the autopsy on his body — but then they found him dangling from the ceiling instead. that wasn’t my doing, so i figured the poison got to him to the point he wanted a quicker way out. you were there, with a reasonable motive. i panicked and made a choice.”

inhaling sharply, your eye twitches. “you chose to frame me.”

“i was going to.”

“oh, give me a break. don’t start acting like you care about me, now.”

“except i do. it was different in the beginning — but then i just—i didn’t remember why i hated you. i couldn’t even fathom a possible reason to. i started liking being around you, and you felt it too. i know you did, you said it yourself.” he pleads, getting closer to you, not giving a damn that the barrel of the gun is touching his chest at this point.

a tear escapes your eye, but your anger is still there. “you know what the thing is, mingyu? i don’t even care that you killed him. hell, if you had come to me after our interrogations and confessed that it was you, i would’ve thanked you. what i care about is that you took advantage of me when i was vulnerable, and that you made me feel like i mattered to you when you were all just doing it for your own gain.”

it’s like you’ve ripped his heart out of his chest. he wishes he could make you understand that you’ve made him feel more alive than anyone he’s ever met, that you’ve grown to mean so much to him in a ridiculously short span of time. that he’d go to hell and back to protect you now.

“you matter to me. more than anyone else.”

all you can do is let out a sarcastic fit of laughter; you don’t trust a single word that comes out of his mouth. “i need you to tell me something. did you sleep with me because you actually wanted to or because you felt like you had to in order to manipulate me to get closer to you?”

he seems appalled at what you’re implying. “of course i wanted to. all i ended up wanting was you—”

“don’t you fucking lie to me!” you burst out angrily, at which he flinches, but his frustration brings him to confess his true feelings.

“it’s not a lie, because i’m in love with you!” he raises his voice in desperation, “i don’t care if you shoot me right here, right now. it won’t change how i feel about you.”

your heart shatters even more, because he sounds so genuine, yet it doesn’t make you feel the way it should.

the words should probably bring some kind of twisted comfort, but they feel like a gut punch instead. you grab your chest to stop yourself from hyperventilating. “at least i was right at the beginning. the golden boy is a fucking murderer. you’ve played your part well, i gotta admit.”

he watches you breathily laugh and cry at him, and all he can do is stare back at you with teary eyes and a guilty face.

“please don’t say that.”

“why? does it hurt, hearing the truth?”

“i swear to you—”

you shut him up by pushing him backwards with the pistol against his chest. “you know, when you bothered me after the funeral, when i had my breakdown, i wanted nothing more than to cave in your skull with a rock. looking back, i should’ve just done it. would’ve spared me this whole mess.”

surprisingly enough, you simply put the pistol back in your jacket pocket, but mingyu is just as if not more afraid of you. your gaze is the harshest, coldest, meanest he’s ever seen it. all you do is look at him and he crumbles.

and yet he still wants you. he knows you hate him to the bone, you detest every part of him, and he still. wants. you.

and he intends to show you that, because he’s willing to throw every last shred of pride and dignity he has let out the window if it means you’ll show him you want him even the smallest bit. “i’ll prove it to you. if you ask me to turn myself in, i’ll turn myself in. i’ll do it, for you.”

god, he seems so genuine in it, too.

your breaths are ragged, and you feel like you need to get literally anywhere else, out of the suffocation that is this room with him in it. you barely even noticed he’d taken a hold of your hand until now.

“i can’t do this. just—just let me leave.”

he does.

the moment the door slams shut behind you, he has to grab the nearest object to hold himself up, leaving him wondering what the hell just happened.

x. WHEN IS A MONSTER NOT A MONSTER?

the following days are spent anxiously pacing in his apartment. what is he supposed to do? what should he say to you? what should he tell the press, that he’s innocent? guilty? what should he tell his family? that he killed a man to protect them and their reputation? would they even look him in the eye if he confessed?

he waits and waits and waits for his arrest to come, for the police to barge into his home and take him away to a cold, dark prison cell — yet the day never comes.

personally, he wonders if you’re waiting it out to make you feel as shitty as you’ve probably been feeling since the day you discovered his true colors.

nearly a week after the fight between you, he decides he can’t take it anymore. he needs to see you.

you doubt you’ve ever felt as miserable as you’ve felt these past days. it’s like you’re torn between hating mingyu for taking advantage of you and hating yourself for being stupid enough to fall for it. to fall for him.

because no matter how much you want to deny it, you did.

something you desperately needed was a distraction, which is why you ended up accepting wonwoo’s invitation to the event his father is hosting tonight at his estate just outside the city. with your little black dress on and hair perfectly styled, you down a glass of champagne next to wonwoo, who looks a bit concerned. “everything okay?”

the noise of chatter and soft music in the background only overwhelms you more. “yeah. i just… haven’t had alcohol in a while.” you mutter a bullshit excuse, not really caring whether you sound believable or not.

“i get it if you don’t feel like being here right now, with everything that happened recently. i can take you home if you want.”

“and miss out on your father’s celebration?”

“there will always be another one.” wonwoo shrugs, looking at you like nothing else in the room matters. he has a little smile playing on his lips that’s far too gentle — you almost feel undeserving of a gaze that loving.

but you don’t hold eye contact with him for long, because the source of all your current problems suddenly walks into the room — and he looks good. criminally good.

the red suit with its low neckline draws even more attention to him than usual, along with several expensive pieces of jewelry adorning his wrists and fingers.

“he’s here? that’s strange. he said he wasn’t coming.” wonwoo mumbles, and you do your best to keep your composure and hide the sudden anxiety that blooms in your chest.

“shame. the party was just getting good.” you scoff to yourself, replacing your empty champagne glass with a full one.

it’s then that mingyu’s eyes find yours, and even while politely saying hello to the elders greeting him, he keeps sneaking a peek your way, as if to try to get away from the people surrounding him to get to you.

oh, fuck no. you’re not in the mood to talk to him right now.

“i’m just gonna go and use the restroom, okay? i’ll be right back.” you say to wonwoo, hoping to find yourself a spot in the shadows where you can properly get some air.

you hardly catch his response as your legs are already moving on their own, as far away from the man in red as possible.

passing through a quiet hallway, you find yourself finally alone at the bottom of a staircase, and with no one else around, you sit down on the first few steps, a sigh escaping your mouth.

“did my appearance surprise you?”

as you recognize his voice, your blood runs cold.

looking behind you, he’s standing at the top of the stairs, his hands in his pockets. he appears surprisingly relaxed, even if his fingers slightly tremble against the fabric of his trousers.

“you have some nerve showing up here.”

mingyu purses his lips. “why don’t you come up a couple steps?”

when you finally meet his gaze, his heart skips a beat. your brows are knitted together. “why would i do that?”

“because we’d be on the same level. equals.”

“is that what you want?”

“i think you already know the answer to that.”

biting your lip to yourself, you get up on your feet, heels clicking on the creaking wood with each step. once at his level, you look at him with hostility – he only shows intrigue.

“why haven’t you given me up yet? it’s been a week.”

“i have my reasons.” you shrug, the anger remaining in your features. “what? scared i’ll ruin your reputation?”

his tone suddenly changes into something more desperate, emotional. “i just want to know what you’re gonna do. if you wanna turn me over to the police, fine. but do something, please—”

“you’re not in a position to be making demands.”

“i’m not demanding, i’m asking.”

“go fuck yourself, mingyu.” you snap at him, looking around you before lowering your voice. “what did you think was going to happen when you came here tonight? that i would just let you in on everything? the last thing i owe you is an explanation.”

as the tension continues to rise between you, the argument causes you to step closer to eachother.

his chest heaves out of frustration, because you make a more than valid point, but he still has his own interests at heart. “i know that.”

“so then why show up tonight? don’t bullshit me, i know you’re not here for wonwoo.”

“are you? what are you doing here?”

“what the hell is your problem?” scoffing at him, you intend to push him by his chest, but he grabs your wrists instead.

“you are my problem.” he breathes out angrily as if he were confessing his sins, his hands remaining on your skin. “everything fell apart because of you.”

“if you’re actually trying to pin this on me, i’ll hit you in your fucking jaw until it bleeds.”

he only pulls you closer. “and i’d let you. do you still not get it?”

his grip on your wrists falters, and he softly rubs over your skin with his finger, and you hate your body for reacting to it.

christ, you think to yourself, has he been standing this close to you this whole time?

the smell of his perfume plagues your senses, and a feeling you can’t quite place washes over you when you catch him looking at your lips, and you realize his one hand is slowly gliding past your waist.

are you really going to let yourself fall into his trap again?

“everything okay?”

the words aren’t uttered by you nor mingyu — wonwoo peers up at you from your former spot at the bottom of the stairs.

of course he’s been sensing that there was something going on between you the moment you showed up at the strip club, but this clearly confuses him, since you’re still supposed to hate one another.

fuck. how much of the conversation did he hear?

mingyu hesitantly releases his hands from your body, and you take a step backwards, both of you focusing on wonwoo. “yeah, i’m fine.”

as if to make the situation even worse, the fucking inspector that’s leading the investigation appears behind wonwoo, curiously looking at his two main suspects standing side by side.

the situation feels suffocating. wonwoo points at the older man, “he was looking for you. that’s why i came to see if you were here — i didn’t know you were, um — occupied.”

“i’m not occupied.” with the way you completely disregard mingyu’s existence, it’s almost as if he weren’t even here. you make your way down the steps, smoothening over the fabric of your dress and taking a deep breath to get a hold of yourself again.

the inspector glances at mingyu one last time before asking you if he can talk to you privately, which you agree to.

mere minutes later, you’re standing in a secluded room, far away from the rest of the crowd, arms crossed over your chest, a dim light flickering on the ceiling above you.

“i wanted to talk about the investigation.”

“talking to me off-record again? this isn’t a good look on you.” you sneer at the man, who puts up his hands before his chest.

“i know. but it’s for a good reason.” he defends himself, at which you frown. “i have a proposition for you.”

“which is?”

“i need your help catching the person who killed your father.”

pursing your lips together, you let out a bitter chuckle. “like i would know anything—”

“you were just speaking to him, actually.”

the weight of his words makes your eyes widen. this is the first time he’s expressing who he believes is the culprit, after all these weeks.

your breath hitches in your throat. “you think mingyu is guilty.”

the inspector nods at the conclusion you’ve drawn. “he’s smart, i’ll give him that. but not invincible.”

“what will you do? do you have evidence against him?”

“i have enough that makes me sure that it was him, but not enough to defeat him in court. he’s rich and uses that to his advantage.” he explains, sounding almost hopeful. “so that’s where you come in.”

“me?”

“what i need is evidence that even he can’t work around, no matter how many people in the system he chooses to bribe. you told me the nature of your relationship was sexual — i don’t need to know if that’s true or not. but i’ve noticed he seems fond of you these days. you can use that to get him caught. we can’t let him get away with it.”

his voice rings through your ears, sounding like a convincing whisper. biting down on your tongue, you clench your fists, the predicament you currently find yourself in making you wish the ground would just swallow you whole.

you subtly glance down at your phone for a moment.

the evidence is right there, on the phone in your hand. you’ve recorded all the tapes with your phone — the confession, murder weapon — it’s all the evidence needed. you could give it right now and everything would be over.

yet not a single word comes out of your mouth.

the inspector sighs, offering you a final sentiment. “be careful with him. people can be deceiving.”

and with that, he exits the room, leaving you alone with the voice in your head.

your next moves are crucial. you know what you’re about to do is risky, but it’ll be worth it. it has to be worth it.

once you’ve left the inside of the estate through the backdoor, the event continues for the evening while you ponder over the choice you’re about to make in the backseat of the cab.

shrugging off your coat as you enter your home, you still in your movements when your eyes find the stairs — the spot where the police had to cut down your father’s cold, dead body.

with your gaze remaining on the former crime scene, you press on mingyu’s number to call it.

he picks up faster than lightning, but you don’t allow him to speak.

“meet me in the city tomorrow. 10:30, outside your mother’s firm. don’t be late.”

you hang up right after.

fuck, you should really sell this place. the fact that your father’s wandered around here is more than enough reason.

that he died here as well isn’t great either, but that’s really a minor detail.

with your arms crossed, you scoff, a half-smile that’s almost smug sitting on your face. “if only your death had welcomed us sooner.”

the next morning, you lean your head against the wall of the building you’re meeting at, a cold wind blowing through your hair as you’re sunken deeply into thought.

it’s comfortably quiet, honestly. you’re fond of this type of weather, the white, grey-ish sky, the breeze in the air, some rain on occasion.

you glance at the watch on your wrist — why the fuck is mingyu still not here? what possible reason could he have to be late when this is what he was practically begging for?

just as you’re about to grab your phone from your pocket to call him, someone pulls you by your arm and drags you into the alley beside the building.

“what the fuck!?” you huff out, and then you finally get a good look at the person who grabbed you.

of course it’s him.

“i’m sorry.” mingyu breathes out, his usually neatly styled hair now messy, several strands hanging loose in front of his forehead, the stress visible in his features.

to be together like this feels messy yet weirdly intimate. a few strands of your hair are caught between your lips, and you feel his breath on your face, his hands on your body, even your hands find their way back to him.

as if it’s natural.

“what the hell are you thinking?!” you hiss at him, pushing his hands off you, backing yourself as far up against the wall as possible.

“someone was following me, i was — i thought you’d lured me here to turn me in.”

“you—” is all you can push out of your throat before a sigh leaves you. of course he’d think that. god, what a mess.

burying your face in your hands, it feels like you’re both on the verge of a complete breakdown. both lost, not sure where to go, not sure what’ll happen next.

you thought you’d found a sense of direction in eachother, but that fell apart like a house of cards hit by the wind.

naturally, it begins to rain right when you’re talking to him outside. sighing to yourself, you gesture for him to come with you to your car in the half-empty parking lot, which he wordlessly agrees with.

it’s pouring by the time you’re both seated, the heavy rain rolling down the glass windows of the car.

it’s completely silent between you as you sit beside one another, staring dead ahead at the street.

your voice is hoarse when you tell him your verdict on the matter.

“we’re gonna cover it up.”

mingyu turns his head to look at you in disbelief, but you don’t move a muscle. “… what?”

“i believe i’ve told you i don’t like to repeat myself.”

“no one in their right mind would do that. no one would help me cover it up.” he exhales, eyes moving rapidly as he tries to process what you’re proposing to him.

“no one in their right mind would commit murder, either, but that certainly didn’t stop you.”

well, you have a point there.

“just tell me one thing,” mingyu asks, hoping you’ll look at him, “why? why do this for me?”

he could cry the moment you do meet his eyes. it’s like he sees a different version of himself staring back at him. “because you did the right thing. i would’ve done the same. well, except for your little affair with me.”

with his heart beating against his chest, he gently touches your hand. “everything i told you was true. it may not have been real in the beginning, and i’m sorry for pretending back then, but it’s real now. i swear that to you.”

you bite your lip. “give me one good reason why i should believe you.”

mingyu can taste his tears at this point. he needs you to believe him, he needs you — and that is terrifying but addictive. “the tapes. you can have them if you want.”

“i don’t need them. they hold no value to me.” you already made copies of them anyway.

“then what can i give you to prove myself?”

“nothing.” you immediately cut him off, eyes blazing fire, but even mingyu can see you do share that sadness that he does, mourning the loss of your connection. “from now on, we avoid contact over the phone as much as possible. you’ll destroy the tapes, the poison — get rid of all of it. we’ll work together until we’ve covered it up, and after that, it’ll be like whatever we had never existed. we’ll be nothing more than strangers to one another.”

“how on earth would we go back to strangers after what we did?”

“by never talking to eachother again.” you respond, swallowing the rising lump in your throat, fingers twitching from feeling suffocated. “get out. you can come over to my place tomorrow, and we’ll… figure out how to handle everything.”

mingyu looks at you, and he knows you won’t let him in again, certainly not now. so he nods.

he thinks of what to say, yet nothing comes out.

so he leaves you in your car without saying another word, walking away with nothing but his mistakes on his mind.

xi. I HATE YOU LIKE MY OWN REFLECTION

“so, what do we do now?”

“our best shot is to try to frame someone else, then take them out of prison after the conviction and pay ‘em good money for it.”

mingyu cocks a brow at your choice. “so you wanna go and do the exact same thing i wanted to do?”

you can’t help but glare at him. “yes, just without the manipulation. don’t think for a second i’ve forgiven you, or that i will in the nearby future, because i can assure you that won’t happen.”

well, so much for trying to get into your good graces again. “noted. so, how do we, um… find a suitable victim? someone who won’t rat us out.”

“my contact in the police force has sent me a list of all the other suspects. we pick someone, threaten to kill them if they don’t cooperate. easy.”

mingyu finds your lack of filter both intriguing and scary, like a switch was flipped and you’re suddenly ready to undertake even more violent measures than him. but then again, he was hiding quite some things too. “okay.”

it’s two days later when you’re holding a now former member of the housekeeping hostage in your spacious private parking garage.

“you can’t make me do this! this is insane!” he cries out, and you roll your eyes, holding the gun in your hand as easily as you’d carry a bottle of water.

you simply shrug. “it’s not impossible.”

“i’ll lose everything!”

“probably. but you’ll also gain a lot of money, enough to get you a comfortable life elsewhere in the world.”

“no, no, i’m not doing this. you can’t make me!”

mingyu looks to you for permission, you grant it with a nod, and he takes your gun to hit the guy in the face with it. you sink down to bend your knees, lowering to your victim’s level.

“i don’t think you get it. either you agree to do this, or you’re not making it out of these walls alive. trust me, if i have to shoot you, i will.” you sternly tell him, attitude changing from casual to threatening.

your partner in crime, who’s still holding the gun, is beyond impressed. he briefly thinks it over —has this part of you always been hiding underneath the surface?

“or maybe it’s your family i should start with? i’ll pick it apart, one by one.” you suggest, feigning innocence in your voice.

it’s then that the man is finally forced to accept your offer, after which you smile triumphantly and tell him he can go home like nothing happened. mingyu watches the change in your behavior, leaving him wondering how the hell you’re the same person he’s come to know over the past months.

but it hardly changes his now deeply-rooted affection for you.

a few days later, you’ve successfully orchestrated your plan and set it in motion, with the man from housekeeping supposedly coming forward with his confession tomorrow.

it’s late at night when mingyu’s still over at your house, and he asks if he can open the bottle of vodka standing on the counter.

“sure. whatever.” you mutter, the stand-offish demeanor you used to hold up around him before getting to know him having returned.

he doesn’t like it. no, scratch that — he can’t stand it.

so he pours you both a shot. “i’ve been thinking about something.”

“well, that must’ve been exhausting for you.”

hilarious. really. he chooses to ignore your sarcasm for now. “in the car, you said i did the right thing. that you would’ve done the same.”

“and?”

“do you really not… hate me for killing him? at all?”

“no.”

“you hate me for… lying to you about it.”

“no.”

his brows knit together. “so…”

“again, don’t take this as a compliment, but i really thought you were smarter than this.”

“i’m just… confused on your stance on the whole thing. that’s all.”

taking a breath, a bitter chuckle leaves your mouth. “i hate it when people make fun of me, like — that’s the worst thing you could do to me. and you tried to get to know me, work with me, pretended to care for me, all while secretly knowing that it wasn’t genuine and you were going to put me in prison. and after i found out, it felt like you were just ridiculing me, for… i don’t know. giving in to you so easily. for being desperate to have at least one person actually care about me the way i thought you did.”

he processes your words with the heavy burden of guilt weighing on his shoulders, while you take another shot of alcohol.

well, he fucked up. miserably.

“when i created the plan to frame you, i… almost held a grudge towards you, like you did to me, for a reason i couldn’t even think of. i was going to be putting someone i hated in prison. a sacrifice i was willing to make for the people i loved. but you completely blew me away. as time progressed, i… couldn’t fathom i used to hate you, or even disliked you. even if you don’t accept my apology, i need you to know that i never… never made fun of you. and i’m sorry for hurting you in the way that i did.”

his heartfelt sentiment gets to you, and you hate it.

“even if i did accept your apology, what then? we’ll just move on with our lives as if this whole thing never happened either way.”

now that you’ve unintentionally given him a sense of hope, he downs another shot of vodka to give himself courage. “it doesn’t have to be like that.”

“what?”

“i still want you.” he breathes out, mentally saying fuck it and deciding to finally be completely honest with you.

the words seem to have caught you off-guard, after which you scoff at him once you realize what he’s saying. “you’re not serious.”

“i am,” he replies without hesitation, following you in your tracks when you stand up, “and you know what i think? you still like me, too.”

“no i don’t.”

now that you’ve turned around to him, you realize how stupid of a move it was to do so. with every step he takes forward, you go back, but there’s only so much room before you hit the wall. “you’re not being very convincing.”

“gyu—”

“i like it when you call me that.”

at a loss for words, you look behind you to find you’re nearly out of space. “i don’t like you.”

“and here i thought we were both being honest with eachother.”

god, all he does is look at you and you feel willing to let him touch you again. he made you feel so good — you liked him so much.

mingyu feels it. he sees you fighting with yourself in your head, so he figures all you need is just a little push to get you back where he had you, to be able to kiss you and hold you and call you his.

with his left hand, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and within a second, he’s pushed his mouth against yours.

fuck, it’s been only two long weeks since he last kissed you, but it felt like forever. this feeling, his touch — you doubt you’d ever be able to feel that with anyone else.

but something in you is still fighting back.

you muster the will to push mingyu away, and he licks his lips from the gloss on yours. both of you panting heavily, you shake your head. “no. we’re not doing this.”

“what? something we both want?” he breathes out, chest heaving up and down.

“something we shouldn’t.”

“why not?”

“because i’d never forgive myself for giving in to the guy who was gonna frame me for murder.”

he merely shrugs, downplaying the situation for his selfish interests. “we hated each other back then. you’d have done it too, you said it yourself.”

his words are true — but it still hurts.

“you’re a liar.” you say to him, and he knows you’re only saying it for one reason — to convince yourself to not give in to what you really want.

“yeah. and so are you.”

that is what momentarily causes your brain to shut down. “what?”

his hand cups your jaw. you can feel his breath on your bare skin, his gaze on your body, shamelessly checking you out before he meets your eyes again. “what we had was real. you make everyone else in my life seem like… nothing.”

“oh, so i’m special, huh? or are you just trying to get back into my good graces so i don’t rat you out?”

his eyes keep lingering on the skin of your cheeks, your neck, exposed collarbones, and he doesn’t even look you in the eye while answering. “you can do whatever you want. i’ll still want you once i’ve gotten out of prison.”

god. he’s really that into you?

“gyu…” you mutter, almost pouting, and he holds your face, nodding as if he understands.

“i know, i know—” his breathing is unsteady as he confesses every dirty little sin on his conscience, “i like being a little selfish, y’know? even when one of my friends mentioned something about liking you, i didn’t tell you, ‘cause i wanted you.”

you’ve got a feeling who he’s talking about. “so what’d you say to him?”

“i said you had something going on with someone else, which wasn’t exactly a lie, since you were on top of me that same night.” he barely allows himself to finish the sentence before kissing you again, putting all his vigor into it, and you decide to indulge both him and yourself this once.

he pushes you up against the wall, and you shove him away again, holding onto the cupboard beside you when you both catch your breath.

“what if i like him better than you?”

“you wouldn’t.”

“why? ‘cause you’re so likeable?”

“because he’d never accept you for who you really are, and you’d find him boring,” he tells you as a possessive streak overcomes him, “just like no other girl would ever want me and i only want you.”

“so i should let you have me because no one else will. what a compelling argument.”

“no. because you want me.” fucking hell, he’s pretty sure his sex drive has never been this high before. “so have me, baby. please — i’m all yours.” he rasps, pressing a kiss so chaste to your lips, they barely touch. his hands burn on your skin.

“maybe i will.” you mumble, which elicits the smallest smirk from him.

he rubs up against you. “you make me insane.”

“pretty sure you already were.” is the last thing you say before kissing him, finally giving in to the feelings you still hold for him.

the sudden motion takes him by surprise, but he regains his composure to kiss you back within seconds. you make him feel so sickeningly good, he practically worships the ground you walk on.

mingyu is always tactile, be it with his friends, family, or in this case — you. his hands are practically glued to your body, pulling you as close to him as possible.

and normally he likes to take his time when it comes to sex. but he’s just so hot right now that he needs some kind of friction, some kind of release. so he lifts you up to take you to your bedroom, where he wastes no time to plunge his fingers into you.

“fuck—gyu—”

this is all he wants. to hear you moan his name like that and watch you writhe underneath him while his cock throbs as he rubs it against the bed.

“you look so pretty like this.” he grins, curling his fingers to watch you squirm and feel you clench around him.

jesus, his pace is high. higher than any other time he’s done this before. the pressure in your stomach builds so fast that you’re almost overwhelmed by the feeling, at which you instinctively reach down to hold his wrist, but to no avail, because he keeps going.

“say you like me back and i’ll make you cum.”

even through the pleasure he’s giving you, you manage to pull your mean attitude back up. “are you that desperate?”

not only does he seem completely unaffected by the snark in your voice — he might even like it.

“so what if i am?” he shrugs, his fingers moving in and out of you while he kisses and sucks on the skin of your neck.

when he moves onto your jaw, he suddenly hits the right spot inside you, and your eyes roll back, a dragged-out moan escaping you.

“bet that feels good, hm?” he whispers, his fangs showing when he smiles slyly, “c’mon — say it. i’ll make you feel so good, baby.”

right after the words come out of his mouth, he threatens to take his fingers out, and you grab his wrist once more, this time to keep him as close as possible.

“fine — i like you.”

like a war general who just won his greatest battle, he’s beaming at your confession. “good. put your legs over my shoulders.”

well, he certainly is determined. he’s back in his previous position in no-time, now with your legs up, and you try to not clench your thighs around his head too much as his digits piston in and out of your hole.

your orgasm hits you within what feels like a minute, and mingyu keeps going even when your legs are shaking and trembling on his shoulders.

the drag of his cock inside you is heavenly. he’s a big man, and you always need to adjust yourself to him, but fuck is it good.

you always like the slower strokes best, he’s learned. slow and deep, to make you feel every inch of him, and he can bury himself in you to the hilt every single time.

“god, you’re always so tight.” he has to suck through gritted teeth to not completely lose it, ‘cause you’re clenching down on him so much that it almost hurts.

“that’s ‘cause you don’t fuck me enough.”

“we should fix that, then.” he responds, sliding his cock in and out of the pooling wetness between your legs, and as the minutes go by, you continue to find yourself in his arms, your body plastered on his.

it’s the ringing of your phone from the nightstand that pulls you out of the erotic haze.

mingyu turns his head to the side, the dark strands of hair hanging beside his head as he’s still hovering above you.

his chest still heaves when he picks up the device to show you the caller id. “you never did tell me what he wanted to talk to you about.”

all you can do is chuckle — a sound that comes across as if you know more than he does. “he’s onto you. thinks you’re guilty. not far from the truth, is he?”

throwing your phone to the other side of the bed, he pushes himself a little deeper into you, loving the way you have to bite your lip to suppress a whimper. “and he wanted you to give him evidence, i bet.”

“he did.”

“did you?”

“since you still have the freedom to fuck me — take a wild guess.”

this time it’s him who lets out an arrogant laugh. “i knew you liked me too much.”

“i could still do it, y’know.”

“oh, i know you could.” he bites his lower lip before kissing you so vigorously again — as if you’re the air he breathes.

xii. ROUGH HEWN BY UNFORTUNATE EVENTS, AND GIVEN BREATH BY NECESSITY

with the noise of the fireplace crackling, you stand by the window of your mansion’s spacious living room, staring outside as you’re anxiously rubbing your fingers over your collarbone.

the man you and mingyu forced to act like he was guilty of murdering your father has supposedly confessed yesterday morning, and yet you’ve still heard nothing. which is strange.

extremely strange.

“they could still be interrogating him.” mingyu tries to ease both your and his own nerves, but you shake your head, your back still facing him.

“something’s wrong. if it were convincing enough, i would’ve heard something. fuck.”

he gets up from the soft couch to wrap his arms around you from behind. “we just gotta be a little more patient. the guy knows what’s at stake should he mess it up.”

letting out a sigh, you nod. “yeah, i guess you’re right.”

just when he’s pressed a kiss on the top of your head, the doorbell rings — whoever that may be.

mingyu remains in his spot by the window while you go ahead to check who’s visiting you. your breath is almost stolen completely from you once you see who it is.

“coming to visit me at this hour?”

the inspector gives you a fake smile in return. “it’s important.”

so you let him in, keeping up the nonchalance in your attitude. mingyu raises a brow at the older man walking into the room, and he crosses his arms over his chest.

“i had someone coming into the station yesterday — one of your father’s former staff. he confessed to the murder.” the inspector begins. “unfortunately for him, i said i’d already figured out who the culprit was, and so i sent him back home.”

“someone confessed and you didn’t think about telling us?” mingyu questions angrily, and you really have to force yourself not to show how impressed you are with his acting skills.

the other man in the room is less impressed. “why would i tell you something you’re already aware of? you orchestrated it.”

oh, shit.

as your eyes widen, it’s quiet for a moment.

“i really hope you have actual proof to back this accusation.” mingyu sneers, clearly hostile towards the man while you silently take a few steps back, slowly hiding yourself more in the shadows by the walls.

“traces of poison were found in the reports of the autopsy. it was disregarded at first because of the small amount, but i eventually began to consider it evidence when i discovered you recently purchased that exact formula from a dealer who’s been on our radar for a while.”

the hairs on your neck suddenly stand upright. is this it? is the person you’ve grown so attached to actually going to get arrested?

“thing is, if i were to arrest you, you’d probably be let go. i know you both have contacts in the police force as well as the justice system, i almost caught someone messing with the autopsy results — but despite that, i know the truth.” the man nods to himself. “and that is, mr. kim, that the only charge against you is attempted murder.”

mingyu seems confused. “attempted?”

“the poison didn’t kill him. you’re guilty of something, definitely, but you’re no murderer.” the inspector’s gaze suddenly shifts from your partner to you, a deep frown setting into your forehead. “the only player in this game that wasn’t making any sense to me was you.”

“me?”

“you know, in my many years in this line of work, i’ve found it a rarity to have a suspect possessing such an… inscrutible expectant stillness. the gears in your head are constantly turning, but no one’s really sure what it is that goes up in there. you’re an enigma.” he says to you, and you listen to him with a raised brow.

as you remain silent, he continues. “at the event a few weeks ago, when i spoke with you, i came to you and told you i suspected him to be the culprit — the man you’ve hated from day one. the opportunity to make him go away was practically given to you, yet you did nothing with it.”

scoffing at him in disbelief, you tilt your head. “that’s all you have against me? baseless speculation?”

“not exactly baseless. see, the autopsy report showed one more thing — he was choked before the hanging. your father was unconscious before you put that rope around his neck.”

it’s so quiet, you’re pretty sure the two men in the room are able to hear your heartbeat at this point.

mingyu turns to look at you with a puzzled expression, and you finally decide to drop the façade you’ve upheld for so long.

“oh, so what?” you shrug, finding the accusation bothersome at best.

the sudden change in demeanor catches mingyu completely off-guard. he can’t fully comprehend what’s going on here. “you—you killed him?”

you press your lips together. “whatever you used on him wasn’t enough to kill him, but it was enough to make him violent. he came home that night just—fucking losing it. stumbling over everything, his eyes were all red, and he yelled at me because he thought i was the one who poisoned him. ‘cause naturally, he’d never suspect you. my father was one to hit me on the cheek whenever he was really angry with me, but he’d never gone further than that. the poison must’ve worked him up so much that he lost rational thinking. so he began to accuse me of trying to kill him, after which he tried to choke me, but i managed to throw him off, and he passed out. and i figured it’d been enough of his torture, so… i hung him in the stairwell to make it seem like a suicide.”

the inspector nods knowingly. “you murdered him in cold blood.”

you’re quick to respond with your defense, though you don’t really care anymore. “did you not hear the part where he tried to kill me?”

mingyu looks like a kicked puppy when he processes your confession. “so you’ve been lying to me this whole time?”

the words elicit a scoff. “that’s real bold, coming from you.”

“but you—you agreed to help me figure out who your father’s killer was. why would you do that if you did it?”

“at first i didn’t, as you know, but you were just so fucking persistent. so i figured i could try to divert your attention from me. i was going to convince you that it was a suicide. then i hear the tapes, you admitting that you poisoned him, and everything made sense. but hey, at least i wasn’t trying to frame you.”

the jab directed at him makes him feel guilty again. “so we both did it.”

“in a way. though i’d argue it was somewhat self-defense. i mean, he came onto me, tried to kill me—”

“you made a mistake and you know it.” the inspector interrupts, making you roll your eyes as he scolds you. “you should’ve called the police. but you didn’t, you just decided to hang him instead!”

“he deserved it!” you retort, displaying the clear hatred you’ve always felt towards anyone who tried to defend the man who raised you. “i don’t care what you think. and you said it yourself — i have everyone in the justice system on my payroll, if necessary. threatening to kill a family member or two also works like a charm.”

it’s silent for a few seconds after you’ve revealed this side of your true nature, and the man just stares you in the eye before grabbing a device from his backpocket.

when he clicks on the button, you already know what it is.

he recorded the whole conversation, and you already know he can’t be bribed, so this is a real problem — because it’s the one piece of evidence needed that will destroy you both.

“you do realize how stupid it was to come here alone, right?” you ask rhetorically.

“what, will you kill me too?” he asks, and when both you and mingyu deadpan a stare at him, he knows the answer.

he’s not getting out of this room alive unless he forfeits the recording.

when you and your partner in crime exchange a glance, the inspector attempts to make a run for it, only to be tackled by mingyu once he’s reached the door.

one last sacrifice.

the sound of a blade piercing through skin makes you jump, your fingers twitching.

blood begins to trickle down his body, after which mingyu pulls out the knife and pushes it in once more, higher up in the chest this time.

“oh, jesus—fuck!” you gasp to yourself when you feel the bloodsplatters hitting your face and neck, and mingyu rips the blade from the inspector’s body, letting it fall onto the carpeted floor.

you both stare at the freshly created crime scene, and you pinch the bridge of your nose, mostly just annoyed at having another crime on your hands.

“well, that is unfortunate.” mingyu sighs, after which you press your lips together, looking up at him.

“understatement of the year. did you have to stab him that quick?”

“sweetheart, he would’ve locked us both away if i didn’t.”

“i guess so.” locking the front door to ensure no one can enter, you cross your arms. “so. are we burning, burying or dumping him in a lake?”

mingyu stares at the body on the floor before locking eyes with you, and it’s like making a silent deal — that you’re in this mess together, and only together can you come out of it, as bloody and violent that road may turn out to be.

well, at the end of the day, you suppose your father was right about one little thing.

you and kim mingyu are, indeed, good together. just not in the exact way he imagined.

after all, love can exist even in the murderous heart.

thanks for reading! let me know if you enjoyed it x

® SANAKIRAS — do not repost, remake or copy my work in any way whatsoever. translations are not allowed.

[suiana]

imagine sitting on a train, expecting a short ride but the ride just never ends. and no, it's not a 'the brakes are broken' scenario.

you were just taking a train to like, a nearby suburb to visit your friends like usual. everything was fine. all things were like what they normally were. ticketing station, the weird old man who tells you that they're watching you, and the cute highschool student who frequently tells you stories about his school life.

you board the train like usual, nothing out of the ordinary. you find an empty seat and put on your earphones. you decide you want a calm and soothing song that day. looking out of the window, you hum softly and anticipate what you and your friends are going to do.

that's when you realize you've seen that sign post two times already.

you nervously look around your surroundings, hoping to find someone else who's also realized what's going on.

but there's no one else in the carriage. oh, wait, actually no. you also have the highschool boy.

"hey kid, um, did you notice anything off? like uh-"

"hm? oh, it's you mx."

the boy's voice is deeper than usual as he continues looking out of the window. you frown at his reaction before trying to get an answer out of him again... only for him to turn and completely scare the shit out of you.

that. that was not the face of a human. not when his eyes were all black and curved into tiny moons. not when his lips were stretched so wide that he resembled the stupid 😄 emoji. not when his mouth looked like a bottomless pit of nothing that could swallow you alive. not when his skin was paper white and his body now elongated to look something like a sexy slenderman if that was even possible. not when he didn't resemble a human anymore.

"darling, what's wrong? you don't like my face? I'm really hurt."

his voice is deep as he continues staring at you from his seat. he makes no sign of movement, merely looking down at you with a tilt of his head before a soft giggle comes out.

what the shit? were you in a horror movie now?

screaming and falling onto the floor behind you, you shiver and try escaping. no, you had to leave. you couldn't die now!

scrambling to the help button, you try to get help. surely the technician could try and get help for you? you desperately press the help button, glancing warily at the high school boy that you were sure was actually a 6009 year old demon that decided to possess a body of a kid for the mere fun of it.

"huh? baby? what's up?"

baby? what? first darling, now baby? what's up with these men? you stare at the help panel before whimpering for help. unfortunately the male voice over the line only fills you with more dread.

"you wanna leave? no can do baby. don't worry, we'll take good care of you."

you don't like the way he said good. what the hell was that supposed to mean? for all you know it could mean imprison you in the train for the rest of your life!

"also I'm in the carriage beside Mr. Driver so if you wanna leave that weird shapeshifter beside you feel free to hop over."

beside... you?

you are suddenly hyperaware of every single thing around you and wait a second, why the hell did you feel a suspicious person breathing down your neck?

"leave my dear alone, you creep."

the air around you seems to loosen up as the weird shapeshifter demon backs up. damn, what good timing. you were just about to thank your saviour when the familiar feeling of dread returns, and even worse this time.

he was a handsome guy. tall, well dressed, and absolutely damn gorgeous. he was wearing all black, a black fedora on his head as he smiles at you with his pearly white teeth. reassurance. yet, you felt as though if you dared to disrespect him, your life would be over before you even knew it.

you stay rooted in your place, your mouth running dry as the male steps closer to you. each step of his felt like a step closer to death and... was it just you or were you feeling light headed now?

"i am afraid i cannot touch you, my dear. for your life will be drained with each fleeting touch. but i must say that it is good to finally meet you physically."

death.

you were so damn sure that the man in front of you right now was the grim reaper or maybe even death himself. your whole body was shaking at this point, his very presence making you feel as though an invisible force was pushing you down into the ground and squeezing you tight. it was hard to even breathe.

"ah, sorry. i forgot living beings are ever so fragile. my sincerest apologies, my dear."

just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, the driver's announcement makes you feel like you're about to throw up.

"welcome aboard the hell train, sweetheart. you are now on the line to ǝɹǝɥʍou. please enjoy the rest of your ride!"

shit, so you really were about to get stuck on this train forever.

[bandsofmarv]

Off limits

It started with stolen glances, moments that lingered too long, and feelings that both of you tried—and failed—to bury. Bucky Barnes was your dad’s best friend, and the unspoken rule between you was simple: don’t cross the line.

But rules were made to be broken.

TW - smut, angst, age gap , DBF

The cabin was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fireplace. Your dad had stepped out to grab supplies, leaving you alone with Bucky. The tension in the room was suffocating, the kind that had been brewing between you for years. Every stolen glance, every accidental brush of his hand, had built up to this moment.

You sat curled up on the couch, trying to focus on the book in your lap, but your eyes kept drifting to Bucky. He sat across the room, nursing a glass of whiskey, his metal hand resting on his thigh as he stared into the flames. He looked every bit as tortured as you felt, his jaw tight, his shoulders tense.

“Stop staring, doll,” he said, his voice low and gruff.

You flushed, snapping your gaze back to the book. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he said, his tone softer now. “And it’s gonna get us both in trouble.”

You closed the book with a sigh, setting it aside. “Why is it always about trouble with you, Bucky?”

His gaze finally met yours, and the intensity in his steel-blue eyes made your breath hitch. “Because this—” he gestured between the two of you, “—is a bad idea.”

“Why?” you challenged, standing up and crossing the room to stand in front of him. “Because my dad wouldn’t approve? Because you think you’re too old for me?”

He looked away, his jaw clenching. “Both.”

You knelt in front of him, placing your hands on his knees. “What if I don’t care?”

Bucky’s metal hand twitched, his fingers curling into a fist as he fought to keep himself in check. “You should care, sweetheart. I’m not the guy you think I am.”

“You’re exactly the guy I think you are,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his. “You’re kind, loyal, and you’ve been there for me more times than I can count. You’re not some monster, Bucky. You’re… you.”

He let out a shaky breath, his head dropping forward. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me, doll.”

“Then show me,” you whispered, leaning closer.

Bucky’s resolve crumbled. He reached out, his metal hand brushing your cheek as his flesh hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you toward him. His lips crashed against yours, desperate and unrelenting, like he’d been starving for this moment.

You gasped into his mouth, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair as he deepened the kiss. His hands gripped your waist, lifting you effortlessly onto his lap. You could feel the hard press of him beneath you, and it sent a thrill racing through you.

“Bucky,” you breathed as his lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Tell me to stop,” he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with desire. “If this is too much, just say the word.”

But you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you whispered, your hands fisting in his shirt.

That was all the permission he needed. His hands slid beneath your shirt, his touch both rough and gentle as he explored your skin. His metal hand was cool against your heated flesh, sending shivers down your spine.

“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You arched into his touch, your breath coming in short gasps as he pulled your shirt over your head. His lips returned to yours, hungry and possessive, as his hands roamed your body, igniting every nerve ending.

“Bucky,” you moaned, your hips grinding against him.

He groaned, his grip tightening on your waist. “You’re gonna be the death of me, doll.”

“Then don’t hold back,” you said, your voice trembling with need.

His control snapped. He stood, carrying you effortlessly to the bedroom, his lips never leaving yours. He laid you down on the bed, his gaze dark and filled with want as he hovered over you.

“This might ruin everything,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But I can’t stay away from you anymore.”

“Then don’t,” you said, pulling him down to you. In that moment, nothing else mattered—not the rules, not the consequences. All that mattered was him.

[whosscruffylooking]

Militiae Species Amor Est III

Militiae species amor est - "Love is a kind of war."

a/n: just a reminder that this is a rewrite of Gladiator II. the timeline and events are different as well as the relationships of the characters.

warnings : // mentions of death. canon typical violence.

word count: 4k

chapter I & chapter II

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Over the next few weeks, you work closely with Lucilla and Acacius, carefully plotting Lucius’s escape. Lucilla looks at you with a knowing smile, her gaze soft with understanding. “My son seems much lighter, having been graced by your presence recently,” she says, her tone tinged with warmth.

 “Our visits are strictly for the purpose of aiding him, so I am certain he is filled with hope now, more than anything else.” 

Her smile deepens, the fondness for her son clear in her eyes, despite the years of separation. “He always was the type to draw strength from those he loved.”

“The final steps of our plan are in place,” Lucilla says, her tone steady but filled with a quiet urgency. “Please go to him tonight and share the news that tomorrow night will mark the beginning of our rescue mission.” She pauses, her gaze softening as she looks at you. “And give him my love.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

After sharing the plan with him, the two of you sit in silence, the weight of the moment pressing down on you both. The rest of the gladiators had been taken out for a night of feasting, yet Lucius was left behind as punishment, alone in the shadows of his confinement.

“It is unfair and cruel that they push you harder than anyone else in training and yet punish you for not having a broken spirit,” you say softly, kneeling before him.

Lucius smiles faintly, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yet I do not mind,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm. “For I get to spend my evening in the solace of your presence. Without any onlookers to see when I do this…” He reaches up gently, brushing your hair back from your face, and then his lips find yours in a kiss that lingers, tender and full of longing.

The kiss begins slow, soft, tender, as though testing the waters, but there's an undeniable hunger beneath the surface. His hand finds the back of your neck, pulling you closer, urging you to deepen it. You respond instinctively, your own fingers threading into his hair, feeling the heat of his touch, the pressure of his lips against yours growing more insistent.

You can feel the way his body shifts, his chest pressing against yours, a quiet urgency seeping into the kiss as his hands roam down your back. His lips part just enough, and when you follow his lead, the kiss intensifies further. The world outside the two of you seems to disappear, and all that remains is the sensation of his warmth, his breath, his passion.

His touch becomes more desperate, as if he's fighting against the fleeting moment, and you find yourself responding in kind, your heart racing, every part of you aching for more. You rise, moving over him with a quiet urgency, your hands pressing him gently back onto the small cot. A soft, strangled moan escapes his lips as he trembles beneath your touch, and you feel the heat of his body against yours.

You trail your lips down his chest, the sound of his breath hitching with every kiss you leave behind. His hands find their way into your hair, fingers tugging, pulling you closer, a silent plea for more. With each movement, each kiss, his grip tightens, as if trying to pull you into him completely, and you can feel the tension between you, the need building higher with every second that passes.

He trembles beneath you, his body a mirror of your own desire, and you can feel the pull of his touch, the intensity of his need, wrapping around you like a wave. But even in this moment, there's a careful awareness-each kiss, each movement, is a step toward something both dangerous and inevitable.

But then, he stops you, his voice trembling as he whispers, “Please… do not allow me to agonize any further.” You glance up at him, his eyes filled with a quiet, almost unbearable pain. “Your kiss… has tortured me more than enough. Knowing that I have felt your lips against mine, and yet I am left longing for something I cannot fully have, it tears at me. Seldom do I get to embrace that feeling, that warmth of you so close, and now it haunts me more than it brings me solace.”

He shifts slightly, his breath unsteady, his hands still gripping your arm, but not pulling you closer. “I cannot have you grace me with your exquisite touch more intimately than we have already ventured, not without it becoming a cruel reminder of what I can’t fully possess. One night with you would exhaust me far more than twenty men in the arena… and for that, I must save my strength.”

His voice is low, thick with emotion, and there’s a desperate sincerity in his words. He’s trying to keep control, to remind himself of the responsibility he carries—but the ache in his eyes tells you that even his strength is faltering.

You look into his eyes, the weight of your words heavy with all the unspoken promises that have lingered between you for years. Gently, you cup his face in your hands, your thumb brushing over his skin as your voice trembles with quiet resolve.

“When you’re free, Lucius… when you’re finally free, I promise you, I will be all yours. I’ll give you every part of me, and we’ll spend the night together—without fear, without restraint. Just us.”

You lean in closer, your forehead touching his, as if sealing the promise between you with the intensity of the moment. “But until then… we have to wait. I have to wait, because I won’t have you broken—physically or emotionally—because of a single night. When you’re free, you’ll know it’s real, that it’s everything we’ve both longed for.”

Just as your words fall into the charged silence between you, the door to the room crashes open. Caius storms in, his face red with fury. His gaze locks onto the two of you, taking in the closeness, the tenderness in your exchange, and it’s clear he’s not fooled.

“Enough!” he shouts, his voice harsh, his chest heaving with anger.

You freeze, your heart sinking. You step back, trying to compose yourself as Caius’ eyes blaze with betrayal. “Caius… this isn’t what you think—”

“No!” he interrupts, his voice sharp, cutting through the air. “I know exactly what it is. The two of you have been playing me for a fool.” His gaze turns to Lucius, fury swirling in his eyes. “How long has this been going on? How long have you been toying with her?”

You take a step forward, trying to steady yourself, but your body trembles as you face Caius’ fury. “Caius, please listen to me,” you plead, your voice soft but filled with an undercurrent of desperation. “It’s not like that. You don’t understand—”

The air is thick with tension as Caius stands in the doorway, his face contorted with rage. “You’ve been lying to me,” he growls, stepping into the room, eyes flashing with fury. “All this time, I trusted you, and now I find you here, with him. You’ve betrayed me.”

Lucius remains calm, his body coiled like a spring, but his gaze is steady and unwavering. “You’ve done nothing but hold her captive with your lies, Caius,” he says, his voice low but sharp. “She deserves more than this.”

Caius’ eyes snap to Lucius, and without warning, he lunges toward him, swinging a fist through the air with the intention of hitting him. But Lucius is quicker. With a fluid motion, he steps aside, easily dodging the blow.

“You’re pathetic,” Lucius mutters, his tone cold as he stands back, letting Caius stumble forward in a failed attempt to land his punch. The sound of Caius’ fist slamming into the air rings in the room, and the frustration on his face is palpable.

Caius staggers, his balance momentarily lost, then he whirls back to face Lucius, breathing heavily. “You think you can humiliate me, gladiator?” His voice is strained, full of venom.

Lucius remains unfazed, his stance still relaxed, his hands at his sides. “You’re the one humiliating yourself, Caius. This isn’t about strength or power. It’s about respect—and you’ve lost hers.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you watch, knowing the inevitable confrontation has come, but seeing Caius lose his composure like this is almost more painful than you anticipated. You don’t want to see them fight—not like this.

Caius, enraged and humiliated by his failed attempt, glares at Lucius, his fists clenched tightly. “You think you’ve won? You think you’re the one who gets to decide what happens between us? Between her and me?”

The rage in his voice rises with every word. You step forward, your voice trembling but firm. “Caius, please. This isn’t helping anything. You’re only making it worse.”

He looks at you, eyes filled with fury and betrayal. “You’ve made your choice,” he spits, his voice low and guttural. “But don’t think this is over. I’ll make sure you regret this.”

With one final, disgusted glance at Lucius, he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him with enough force that the walls seem to shake.

You’re left standing in the silence that follows, your body still trembling from the confrontation. Lucius steps toward you slowly, his eyes softening as he looks at you.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says quietly, his voice gentle despite the heat of the moment.

You shake your head, your breath coming in uneven gasps. “It’s not your fault.”

Lucius reaches out, his hand gently cupping your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek.

You close your eyes, leaning into his touch, the weight of everything that just happened crashing down on you all at once. 

Lucius pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if trying to offer you the comfort you’ve been denied for so long. “Soon, I will be free. And you will be safe in my arms. We will no longer be bound by our shackles.”

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

The night of the escape plan arrives, but it unravels faster than anyone could have anticipated. The betrayal of the plan by one of Caius’s guards is the final blow, and Lucius is forced into the arena without the chance to escape. The gates open, and the roar of the crowd fills the air.

In the center of the arena stands Acacius—the man who had once married Lucius’ mother, who had tried to help him escape from this nightmare. Lucius stands frozen, his heart heavy with the weight of the moment. 

Acacius looks at him, his gaze filled with both sadness and resolve. Lucius can’t speak, can’t move, trapped between what’s right and what’s forced upon him.

“Lucius,” Acacius begins, his voice surprisingly calm. “I never wanted it to come to this. I tried to break you free. But now… this is the way we must meet.”

Lucius feels the weight of Acacius’s words, his sword feels heavier than ever, but his resolve is stronger.

The tension hangs between them, the roar of the crowd growing louder, urging them on. The announcer’s voice calls for the fight to begin, and the tension is unbearable.

Acacius steps forward, his sword flashing, and their weapons meet with a force that sends a shock through Lucius’s entire body. Steel clashes, but the force is more than physical; it is everything that’s been unspoken between them. Acacius’s strikes come swift, but there’s no deadly intention behind them. The fight is a dance—a struggle for something both of them already know they’ve lost.

After minutes that feel like an eternity, Acacius holds his hand up in surrender, a quiet resignation settling over him. The emperor, furious at the sudden turn of events, calls for his immediate death. But Lucius refuses to follow through. Instead, with a calm determination, he kneels in front of Acacius, his heart heavy, offering his own surrender as well.

"I loved your mother," Acacius says suddenly, his voice thick with emotion, the weight of his words pressing down on both of them. "And your father? I would have died for him."

Lucius's breath catches at the unexpected confession. 

But before Lucius can speak, the sound of arrows fills the air, sharp and unforgiving. From every direction, they pierce Acacius's chest and his armor, their deadly trajectory swift and accurate. Acacius's eyes go wide with shock as the first arrow sinks deep, followed by a barrage more, each one striking him with ruthless precision.

He falls to the ground, crumpling like a broken figure, his life draining from him in a matter of seconds. Lucius's hands tremble as he watches the blood spill, his heart torn between rage, sorrow, and helplessness.

"No!" Lucius cries out, reaching for him, but it's too late. The life has already left Acacius's eyes, his body lying still in the sand, soaked in blood.

The crowd erupts, but Lucius barely hears them. His world narrows to the man who had once tried to protect him, now lying lifeless before him. The emperor's command still rings in his ears, the pressure of it suffocating him, but all he can think of is the betrayal and the cruelty of it all.

With shaking hands, Lucius rises, his heart heavy with grief. The escape plan has failed.

The fight is over. And all he can do now is surrender-not just his body, but his spirit to a world that has taken everything from him.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Your feet move of their own accord, your heart hammering in your chest as you make your way toward Lucius’s cell. The weight of your guilt is unbearable, a constant ache pressing down on you. You’ve failed him—failed the plan—and now the consequences are all too clear. Acacius is dead, and Lucius is left to bear the burden of it all.

As you approach the cold stone walls of his prison, the distant sounds of the arena fade. You feel hollow, guilt consuming every step, yet you can’t turn back. You can’t leave him to suffer alone.

Reaching the door, you hesitate before pushing it open. The small, dimly lit space feels oppressive, the air heavy with unspoken words. Lucius stands near the far wall, his back to you, his form tense and still. His posture, always so commanding, now seems weighed down by exhaustion—by everything.

“I’m so sorry, Lucius,” you whisper, your voice cracking under the weight of your grief. “I never meant for this to happen. If it weren’t for me, for my mistakes, this plan—it would’ve worked. You wouldn’t have had to fight him. You wouldn’t have to bear this…”

Lucius glances at you, his expression unreadable, the mask of a gladiator concealing his thoughts. You step closer, your hands trembling at your sides. Guilt constricts your chest like a vice, and yet you press on. You can’t leave him like this—not again.

“I… I should never have let things go as far as they did,” you continue, your voice barely a whisper. “I should never have let my feelings for you grow while I was still bound to Caius. I’ve ruined everything, Lucius. Everything.”

The tears you’ve fought to hold back now spill freely. But Lucius doesn’t speak. The silence stretches thick between you, heavy with unspoken words and regrets. Tentatively, you reach out, your hand hovering inches from his arm before you let it fall back to your side in defeat.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you say again, your voice small and broken. “For what I did. For what I didn’t do. I should’ve been stronger. I should’ve been braver. But now, all I’ve done is ruin the only chance you had.”

Finally, Lucius moves, his gaze softening as he steps toward you. His hand brushes your tear-streaked cheek, the touch light but laden with everything left unsaid. He doesn’t speak immediately, but when he does, his voice is steady, though tinged with sorrow.

“This was always going to end this way. There were forces greater than us at play. But you… you were never the reason this failed. You gave me hope when I thought I had nothing left.”

A sob escapes you, your heart breaking at his words. The man who has every right to hate you instead offers comfort. His grace only deepens your guilt, making you feel even more unworthy of him.

“I wish I could have been stronger for you,” you whisper, your voice raw. “I wish I could’ve been what you needed.”

Lucius’s hand lingers on your cheek for a moment longer before he lets it fall, his eyes searching yours. “You were,” he says softly. “You always have been.”

You close your eyes, your shoulders shaking as a sob tears free. “But we’ve lost so much, Lucius. The plan failed because of me. And now Acacius is dead because of me.”

He shakes his head gently, his fingers brushing against your face again, grounding you in his quiet strength. “None of this is your fault. What has happened is the work of pride and greed, not you.”

You nod, though the ache remains—a gnawing sorrow that won’t let go. You’ve lost so much—Acacius, the chance for freedom, and perhaps even the hope you’d clung to. But in the midst of your grief, one thing is clear: you cannot leave Lucius behind. Not now. Not ever.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You stand in the dimly lit chamber, the torches on the walls flickering with an unsteady light. Caius is pacing before you, his expression sharp, every movement a testament to his agitation. The weight of what he’s done crashes down on you, fueling the fire that’s been building inside since you learned the truth. Finally, you can’t hold it in any longer.

“You knew,” you say, your voice trembling with restrained anger. “You knew about the plan to help Lucius escape, and you deliberately sabotaged it.”

Caius stops in his tracks, his back stiffening as your words echo through the chamber. He turns slowly to face you, his face carefully blank, though his eyes betray the storm within. “I did what I had to do,” he says coldly. “Lucius was a threat—to everything we’ve built, to you.”

“To me?” you snap, stepping closer, your voice rising with fury. “You call this protecting me? Acacius is dead because of you, Caius! He died trying to give Lucius a chance—a chance you ripped away!”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. “Acacius made his choice. He chose to betray the order, to risk everything for some foolish notion of freedom. Don’t put his blood on my hands.”

Your chest heaves as you struggle to control your emotions, the weight of grief and anger threatening to overwhelm you. “His blood is on your hands!” you shout, pointing at him. “You fed the guards information, didn’t you? You told them about the escape route, knowing full well what would happen.”

Caius’ expression hardens, and he takes a step closer, his voice lowering into a growl. “And what would you have me do? Stand by and let you throw everything away for a gladiator? For him?”

“For him,” you repeat, your voice steady now, though it cuts through the air like a blade. “Because he would have done the same for me. Because he deserves better than this twisted, hollow world you’ve tried to keep him in. And because Acacius believed in him, just like I do.”

Caius scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re blinded by your feelings. Lucius is nothing more than a fantasy you’ve clung to—a way to rebel against the life you were given. But in the real world, Iris, dreams like that get people killed. Acacius is proof of that.”

His words are meant to wound, and for a moment, they do. But then you remember the look in Acacius’ eyes—the unwavering conviction, the quiet strength of someone who knew the risks and still chose to fight for something greater.

“Acacius died a hero,” you say, your voice firm. “He died fighting for something he believed in, something worth risking everything for. What do you believe in, Caius? Power? Control? Yourself?”

He doesn’t answer, his silence louder than any defense he could offer.

You shake your head, tears stinging your eyes as you stare at the man you once thought you knew. “I trusted you,” you whisper. “And you betrayed me, just like you betrayed them.”

For the first time, Caius falters. His mask slips, and for a fleeting moment, you see something—regret, perhaps, or the faintest trace of guilt. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the familiar coldness that has come to define him.

“Trust won’t save you, Iris,” he says, his tone flat, almost mechanical. “Neither will Lucius. All it will do is leave you broken, just like Acacius.”

Your heart twists at the cruelty of his words, but you refuse to let him see the pain he has caused. “You are wrong,” you say, your voice steady with unyielding resolve. “Lucius will taste freedom, and I shall see to it myself. When that day comes, Caius, you will know just how blind you have been.”

You take a breath, mustering up the courage to ask the question that has weighed on your mind since his betrayal was revealed. 

“Why did you not name me as a conspirator?” you ask, your tone sharp and unflinching.

Caius arches a brow, his expression a mix of arrogance and cold calculation. “Do not think I shielded your name out of affection or mercy,” he replies coolly. “I did so to preserve my family’s honor. Should you wish to repay this debt, you will abandon all notions of aiding Lucius. You will bind yourself to me as intended—without protest, without spectacle, and with dignity befitting your station.”

“I would sooner embrace the grave,” you spit, your words slicing the air like a blade.

Caius’ lip curls in disdain. “What a pity, for you would miss the glorious Rome that Macrinus envisions.”

The slip in his words is subtle, but it is enough. You narrow your eyes, sensing the truth behind his misstep. A bitter chuckle escapes your lips as understanding dawns. “Ah, so this is the endgame. Macrinus in power. And what follows, Caius? The blood of the emperors staining the Senate steps?”

He falters, the flicker of surprise betraying him before his mask of composure can return.

“It is, isn’t it?” you say, your voice rising, emboldened by his silence. “You plan to murder the twin emperors and enthrone a man consumed by hatred and vengeance. Macrinus, who would sooner condemn Rome to ashes than rule it wisely. Do you not see the madness in this?”

Caius remains silent, his jaw tight, his eyes dark with barely concealed frustration.

You take a step closer, your resolve hardening with each word. “You would hand Rome to a tyrant worse than the fools who rule it now. At least they are too dim-witted to bring swift ruin. But Macrinus? He would destroy Rome before the year is out.”

“Enough,” Caius growls, but you press on, undeterred.

“Stop this treachery, Caius. Call off your schemes, or I swear on the gods themselves—I will stop them for you.”

The room falls into a charged silence, your words echoing against the stone walls. Caius says nothing, his gaze fixed on you, sharp and calculating. But you see the hesitation, the cracks in his once-unshakable confidence.

For a moment, you think he might relent. But even if he doesn’t, your path is clear. Rome’s future—and Lucius’ freedom—depends on your strength. And you will not falter.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

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