#why can you not simply be allowed to live a long and happy life at least once?

[helenanell]

A Breath of Life || Challengers

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Part Two

Pairing(s) : Reader x Patrick – Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi (sort of.) 

CW: MDNI - 18+ : smut, rough / manhandling. Infidelity. Angst. A lot of yearning. (They all want each other, badly.) Manipulative behaviour. Minor spoilers for the film.

Notes: Female Reader (AFAB Reader) - Absolutely no use of y/n, (because I despise it, sorry)

Wordcount: 9.7K

Summary: You met Tashi in your final year of high school and were more than happy to have lost a tennis match against her. Afterwards, the two of you become inseparable and you find yourself feeling for her in a way that you don’t quite understand.And then things get even more complicated when Patrick and Art burst into your lives. As the years pass, desire, love and hatred all get tangled together...and so do the four of you.

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The idea of meeting Tashi Duncan had been much more intimidating than the actual event itself. It was an odd thing, to idolise someone who was the exact same age as you—a girl not yet out of high school and still so chronically unsure of herself and the world—but it was impossible not to. 

You had watched every single match of hers that you could, staring for so long at the way she moved, that you were left with the afterimage of her burned into your eyes: She was in your thoughts constantly and always waiting behind your eyes when you closed them hoping for sleep. 

You were brilliant at tennis, you knew that you were. But Tashi played like it was the only way she could take oxygen into her lungs; each serve and shot an inhalation and exhalation. You understood, because you felt something similar.

For a long time, you had been ignored or dismissed in every aspect of your life, by everyone. But then you had found tennis, and you were really fucking great at it. 

 Tennis saved your life by making you undeniably tangible. Your existence could not be disputed when someone had to react to your movements, to receive something you had offered. 

It was no wonder then, that for as long a match lasted you were unhealthily obsessed with whoever it was that you were playing against. They made you real. 

But then you played Tashi. You had lost, of course, but it had been a close match, neither of you dominating for long before the other gained the upper hand once more. The gasps from the crowd had been the swelling of some great tide, breaking against your flesh and reinvigorating you like freezing water. 

Once it was over, you felt bereft of something vital. You felt as though you had slipped back into non-existence, only this time it was worse than ever, because your connection to Tashi Duncan was gone. 

But your body remembered. It ached and throbbed, rebelling at all you had put it through- no. All Tashi had put it through. You were desperate to feel it again. 

And your prayer was answered. 

She appeared before you like an angel.

Tashi jogged over to you as you gathered your things after the match, flushed and with beads of sweat glistening on her skin like crystals. And her eyes…they had been wide and dark and enrapturing. And then she had said the words that would change the trajectory of your life: 

“So, when can I play you again?”

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Ruah is the Hebrew word that means God’s spirit, but it is also breath or air and is widely understood to be God’s presence in the world. 

You couldn’t remember when you had learnt the word, but you knew that in the Bible, God had created Adam by breathing life into him. Which was why, when anyone joked about Tashi Duncan being some kind of deity, you could not dispute it, because that is what she had done to you. 

Tashi had breathed life into you.

 Her presence in your life has allowed you to come alive even off the court: you finally felt like a real person. Thanks to her, you knew that when you put your racket down, you did not simply disappear. 

Tashi saw you, on and off the court, and you loved her for it.

But, by the time you were both accepted into Stanford, over a year after you’d first met, you still wouldn’t let yourself delve into that love, and work out the ways in which you felt it. Not only because, you’d only ever been drawn to guys in any romantic or sexual way, but also because you felt undeserving of her.

 How pathetic would it be for you, who crawled at your best friend’s feet, to look up and whimper out words of desire to her?

 You were blessed to have her in your life, let alone to be as close with her as you were. Love was so many disparate things; you could love her as a friend, and hold that carnal aspect deep down. Just having her in your life was more than enough. She was enough.

Or so you thought. 

At the party celebrating Tashi, the two of you had not yet left each other’s side. You were dancing together, close enough that you could feel the ecstasy of victory buzzing beneath her skin as she held your hands and pulled you close. Her hair was silken and flowing down her back and as you were tangled up with her, it tickled against your own exposed skin. 

“They’re still staring.” You whisper into her ear, laughing as she answers by twirling you around and then pulling you back in. 

You practically fall into one another, having to steady yourself by placing your hands on her hips, the beaded fabric of her dark blue dress digging into the palms of your hands. 

“Good.” Tashi answers, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

She turns you enough that with your chin resting on her shoulder, you are looking right at the two boys who had been gawking all night. One dark haired with confidence coming off him in waves, the other more reserved, a different kind of potency bubbling beneath the surface.

The blonde’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head, offering a delicate but untethering smile. 

“You’re going to have to talk to them.” You offer, still held in Tashi’s arms. “Otherwise they’re going to follow you around like lost puppies all night.”

You gasp and squirm away as your friend playfully pinches your side.

 “Do you really think they’re just looking at me?” Tashi questions incredulously.

You laugh at her shock. “Of course they are.” You say, gesturing up and down her form as she continues to sway to the music. 

“Oh my God!” Tashi exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you close again. “You’re such a fucking idiot! They’re looking at you, too!” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t help feeling a little buoyed at the prospect of being desired. “Yeah, right.”

Tashi shakes her head. “It’s a good thing you’re so oblivious, I like having you all to myself!”

Heat floods every part of you, acutely aware of the sweat trickling down the back of your neck, your skin uncomfortably warm. 

Only when the two of you have stopped dancing do they come over. 

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig saunter needfully into your life and had you known then all that would ensue, you still would have welcomed their approach. 

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The four of you had wandered down to the beach. 

Art and Patrick were sitting on deck chairs that sat side by side, their legs stretched out and their gazes lustful, both of them looking at Tashi who was perched on a rock opposite them. In that moment, the moon seemed made only for her, the silver light lining her form. 

You sit on the sand near her, your legs pulled up to your chest. The waves softly hit the beach behind you, lulling you into an even more incorporeal mindset. All that exists to you, is Tashi and the two boys who so clearly want her. 

Despite how desperately you want to engage in their conversation, you’re exhausted and distracted by the knowledge that your parents will already be looking for you. 

You’ve rested your chin on your knees, your eyes drooping shut, when a voice calls out to you. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

 Art is crouching beside you, his hand on your back, his knees sinking into the sand, shifting the surface beneath you. You jolt at the contact, scrambling to your feet as Tashi chuckles.

 Patrick’s gaze flits between you and Art and then over to your best friend, his cheeks dimpled with a smirk. 

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a shaky smile, brushing sand off the back of your dress. “I should go though, my parents will be waiting.” 

“You can’t leave!” Patrick protests playfully, placing a hand to his chest. “You’ll break my heart.”

You grin, spurred on by his own smile and shrug. “And why should I care about that?”

Patrick’s mouth drops open in feigned hurt as Art chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping away from you. 

You turn to Tashi, meaning to say goodbye, but she’s already up and hugging you. She often kisses your cheek as a form of goodbye, but this time she gets so close that her lips tease the corner of your mouth as hers make contact. You are electrified by it.

You know that she isn’t doing it for you, which is confirmed when she pulls away with her eyes flitting giddily between Art and Patrick who have both gone utterly still as they watched the display. 

 Despite the jealous ache that blooms, you play into it, because another part of you is excited at the thought of working the two boys up. You pull Tashi back into a hug, your hands resting dangerously low on her back as you squeeze her. She giggles into your ear. 

“You already have them wrapped around your little finger.” You say it quietly, but loud enough that you know the boys will hear. 

Over Tashi’s shoulder, you see Patrick smirk again and Art runs his thumb over his his bottom lip with a small smile on his face.

When you do finally pull away, Tashi smacks you on the ass. 

“It was great to meet to you!” Art shouts after you. 

“I miss you already!” Is Patrick’s shouted offering.

You just shake your head and continue on your path away from the beach.

Unbeknownst to you, three sets of eyes follow you until you’ve disappeared from view.

When you get home, you still feel the touch of Tashi all over you. But when your hand dips under the covers, something has changed. Because when you close your eyes, it’s not just Tashi you see. Instead, multiple people are fighting for dominance in your midnight fantasy:

You see Patrick’s licentious smirk.

You see Art’s coy smile. 

They’ve both invaded your mind, corrupted your thoughts that for a year had been so gloriously void of anything but Tashi.

And from that moment, you know part of you will always hate them. For so long, even knowing you can’t have her, all you’ve needed to sate yourself are thoughts of Tashi. But they’ve changed that.

You hate Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson because they’ve made you want more. You want….one of them. You don't know why and you also don’t know which one of them it is. 

But what is clear to you, is that a new itch has arisen within you, and it comes with panic, because unlike with Tashi, you’re certain there’s a possibility that one of them might actually want to scratch the itch for you.

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Had he known how furious you were going to be with him when you arrived, you doubted Art would have been so eager to invite you to have lunch with him in the cafeteria. 

Even when you slam your tray down and drop into the seat opposite him, he still looks happy to see you. He always did. It was infuriating.

“What are you playing at, Art?” You struggle to keep your volume down. You hadn’t wanted to yell at someone in a long time, but he had managed it.

Concern flashes in his eyes, but his lips press together in a way that tells you he knows exactly what you’re referring to. And yet he still asks:

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re fucking with Tashi’s head.”

“I would never do that.”

You scoff, stabbing the flimsy plastic fork into your salad. “Except you are, and I know that you’re doing it on purpose.”

Art pushes his own tray to the side and settles his elbow onto the table, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah, how’d you figure?”

“Why else would you tell her that Patrick doesn’t love her?”

“Because I don’t think he does. Do you?”

You ignore his question, instead opting to pick up your apple and throw it at his head, hard. He catches it, that damnable little smile still on his face. 

“For fuck sake, Art!” You erupt. “She needs to keep her head on straight. Don’t upset her just because you want her for yourself!”

He tilts his head, blue eyes sparkling as he takes a large bite out of the apple. He chews for a bit before holding it back out to you, speaking through a mouthful:

 “You should have the rest of this, you haven’t been eating enough.”

“Fuck you!” You snatch it from his hand and shift in your seat, easily throwing it and landing it right in a nearby trashcan.

“Well that was a waste of perfectly good fruit.” Art licks some residue off his thumb and then leans across the table. 

You fail to snatch your wrist away before he grabs it. He’s gentle but firm, and as his thumb rubs along your pulse point, you feel the residual moisture from his own mouth he’d left behind, transferring to your skin.

“You don’t have to fight this hard to protect her,” Art presses. “She’s a grown woman.”

“She’s my best friend and I don’t want you to hurt her.” 

Art’s thumb stills, but he tugs your wrist a little closer. “Do you really think I could?” 

You scowl, pulling free of his hold. “You know, the way you and Patrick worship her isn’t the compliment that you both seem to think it is. You’re putting her up on a pedestal, practically deifying her, but she’s not invulnerable. She feels more strongly than anyone I’ve ever known and tennis is her life. If you get in her head and fuck up her game, It will break her and then I will break your fucking hands.”

This time when he’s smiles, it’s rife with fondness for you and it makes you want to punch him for the fluttering it causes in your stomach.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He says simply.

“What?”

“Do you think Patrick loves her?” Art repeats patiently. 

“Do you love her, Art?” 

“Can you please just answer my question?”

“I don’t know!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not even sure I would know love if I saw it. All I do know, is that you both lust after her and definitely for each other too, even if you’ll never admit it. You’re all totally fucked.”

Art’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking, but instead of irritation or anger at your outburst, his gaze softens. When he speaks, it is soft and achingly tender:

“You do know love. Because you love Tashi.” 

You let out an embittered laugh. “Of course I do. I tell her all the time.”

“But she doesn’t love you, not in the same way.”

You really didn’t know if he intended for that to sting, especially not with how gently he’d said it, but if he had, he’d failed. You came to accept that fact a long while ago, and while you would always want Tashi in some respect, it was not the all consuming desire it had been. The lust was gone. She was important to you. She was your best friend and you wanted to protect her. 

Unfortunately, the two men you wanted to protect her from, were the ones who had usurped her as objects of desire in your mind.

“Are you trying to find yourself a catchphrase before you go pro?” You sneer at Art. “I’m not sure how great that would look on a billboard for Adidas.”

“You deserve to be loved.” 

You had picked up your cup to take a drink of water, but upon hearing his words, you slam it down again and rise to your feet. He tracks your every move, as calm as ever.

 “I can’t talk to you right now, Art. You’re being cruel.”

You storm away from the table, only making it a few steps before you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor as he rushes to follow you.

 You’ve only just pushed open the door when he crowds up behind you. 

Art’s hand lands on your back as he guides you outside, his other hand rests on your arm and even after he turns you to face him, his touch remains.

 His hand is wrapped lightly around your arm, the other keeping you close- his palm pressed against your lower back. Anyone watching would think he was drawing you into an embrace. You almost shudder at the contact.

 Patrick has always been handsy, touching and caressing you under the guise of teasing, but Art has always moved around you as though you’ll disintegrate at the lightest touch. The way he’d held your wrist back in the dining hall and how he cradles you now, is the most he’s ever touched you.

 Your chest heaves as your flesh tingles.

Art’s head drops, his eyes on his own hand on your arm, as if he can’t understand why he’s holding you. His voice is strained:

“Patrick isn’t good for her.”

And just like that, you’re slammed mercilessly back down to earth. 

Art wasn’t touching you with tenderness or affection, you were just someone he was holding in place so that you had to hear him out. So you had to hear how much he wanted Tashi. 

“Oh, but I deserve to be thrown at him as a distraction so that you can have her?” You snap at him, more hurt than you’ll ever admit.

“You deserve whatever it is that you actually want.” 

Art sounds frustrated now, not at you…but perhaps at what he knows you won’t say. You do want Patrick. But you also want him. You had just never considered that he knew that.

But that’s not what you say. Instead you say–

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Do you want to know why he isn’t good for her?” Art presses, entirely unaffected by your fury.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The hand on your back pulls you a little closer, one errant blonde curl falls down from his forehead and brushes your temple. His breath is hot against your cheek. 

“Patrick’s not good for her-“ Art begins, his tone becoming embittered. “Because he wants you. He always has.” 

You rip free from Art’s grip with such force that the friction of it burns, his fingerprints leaving red marks on your arm. “You are unbelievable!” 

“I’m not lying. You know I wouldn’t, not to you.”

“You will say anything to have her won’t you?” You laugh nastily. “What’s the plan, Art? Do you think that I’ll try and seduce Patrick away from her now, leaving a space open for you to swoop in?” 

“Ask me how I know.”

“No.” You spit back at him. 

But you don’t move. 

Your body waits for words that your mind doesn’t think it can handle hearing. Something feels so close to breaking and you can’t help but feel like it’s to do with whatever force binds the four of you together. 

Art steps forward, closing the distance again, he raises his hands and rests them on either side of your neck, his thumbs pressing onto where your pulse is ratcheting beneath your fragile skin. 

“I know he wants you, because the night after he won our match- when he won Tashi’s number- he told me that I should fuck you.”

“Art.” You warn, frustrated tears bringing horrible pressure behind your eyes.

A small group comes out of the dining hall and have to split down the middle, because neither of you move a muscle. Art’s hold tightens, like he’s trying to leave a permanent imprint behind without it hurting you. 

He whispers now. “Patrick told me to fuck you. And I know him. He said that because when he couldn't have you, it excited him to think that I would. That I'd tell him about sleeping with you.”

“That was such a long time ago.” You say shakily, coming completely unmoored.

But Art won’t let it go.

“He still looks at you the same way, and that’s not fair to Tashi. You want to protect her, right? Well what will it do her when she finally notices the way her boyfriend is constantly eye-fucking her best friend?”

You hit out against his chest with a closed fist. The shock more than the force makes him stagger back. 

“You are so fucked in the head! You and Patrick are both pathetic little leeches who want the same girl, but can’t cope with the way it’s made them realise that they also want each other. You know what? I actually think so much would be solved, if you and Patrick just fucked each other!”

You start to back away and Art darts forward, trying to grab you again, but you smack his hand away and turn your back.

“Leave me alone, Art! And leave me out of your shit!”

He calls out your name with ragged desperation, but he does not follow. And even though he’s truly made your skin crawl, something about that makes you even more furious. 

Why won’t he follow you? 

Why do you still want him to?

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You hadn’t spoken to any of them since your argument with Art. 

You couldn’t cope with the realisation that if any of them ever did feel any desire for you, it was only because they saw you as some sort of vessel through which they could access parts of the person that they truly wanted.  

You couldn’t even be said to exist in Tashi’s shadow anymore, you had simply been subsumed by it. Those two men, who you both despised and wanted desperately, would never see you, not really. To them, you were just part of her. But you would not let them ruin your friendship with Tashi. You just wouldn’t.

You knew when you arrived to watch her match that something wasn’t right. She was upset. You could see it in all the minutiae of her: in the way she took off her hoodie, in the way she picked up her racket. Something was really wrong. 

You walk through the stands until you come across Art. 

There are two free spaces to the right of him, so you sit down on the one furthest away, leaving a gap in the middle for Patrick to take up when he arrives. But then time passes and the match approaches and he still hasn’t materialised. 

You feel Art staring long before he makes his move. The air shifts as he shuffles over into the seat directly beside you.

“That seat is taken.” You intone harshly. Your eyes are fixed on Tashi as she prepares. 

“If it was, I wouldn’t have been able to sit in it.” 

“Sorry, I should have been clearer. I don’t want you anywhere near me, so I want Patrick to sit there instead of you.”

Your name is a tentative as he speaks it. “Will you please look at me? I can’t handle you not looking at me.”

Your gaze remains set on Tashi, she looks up and finds you in the crowd. The furious divot between her brow eases for a moment before her eyes snag on the way that Art is leaning into you. She turns her back on the entire crowd, but you know the gesture is meant for you alone. 

Fuck. What the hell had happened overnight? If it was Art’s meddling, you’d kill him. 

“The match is about to start.” You say coldly. 

 Art’s hand lands on your knee, but when you flinch, he immediately pulls it away. 

“I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I- I need you to forgive me.”

You grit your teeth at his audacity. “Why do you need me to, Art?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my li-“

The match begins and Art never gets to finish his sentence. 

In fact, you don’t speak to him properly for almost a decade after that. Because Tashi gets hurt. Her sporting career ends in the blink of an eye and takes your friendship with it.

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Both you and Art had sprinted down onto the court, your heart breaking in your chest as you fell to your knees beside your best friend, tears gathering in her eyes as she whimpered in pain. 

What had hurt the most though, was the way Tashi had shoved your hand away when you had tried to comfort her.

“Don’t touch me!” She had barked on a ragged breath. “Get away from me. Get away!” 

The hatred had dripped from her words and landed on you like a corrosive liquid. And as it had burned down to the bone, you had looked at Art and the apologetic agony with which he’d regarded you—even as he’d cradled Tashi’s head in his hands—told you what he’d done.  

He’d not only told you about Patrick’s supposed lust for you, but he’d also told Tashi. He had told her that even after her now boyfriend had won her number, he’d apparently been thinking about fucking you. Art had also definitely shared his little insight that Patrick didn’t love her either, which you quickly worked out had contributed to his absence.

So Art got what he wanted: he finally had his hands on Tashi and he’d done it by carving you and Patrick away. 

Art Donaldson was an attentive, gentle, even needy man, but you had been so stupid to think that meant he couldn’t also be calculated and cruel. Because of course he was. What else could win the heart of Tashi Duncan but brutal passion? It was part of what she loved about tennis: the unforgiving force of hits that once you met them, somehow felt like affection.

When Patrick had tracked an injured Tashi down, still waiting to be taken to hospital, he had been ordered away by both her and Art.

You knew that because he’d just told you. It was the first thing he’d said to you when you’d let him into your room fifteen minutes earlier.

Now, you were both sitting on the scratchy carpet of your dorm, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you. 

You felt bereft. Your body wracked with sympathetic pain for the grief in your mind. You’d lost Tashi today, you knew that. And the man that had caused it, was a man you’d spent years yearning for. 

Art hadn’t only taken Tashi from you, but he’d violently ripped himself away too.

“Art wasn’t lying.” Patrick grumbles after taking another hearty gulp of vodka. 

“Please, don’t.” You beg wearily, taking the vodka from his outstretched hand and pressing it to your lips. Not even the burn of the spirit going down your throat registers.

“I wanted- want, both of you. You and Tashi.” 

He isn’t drunk, only tipsy, but he’s getting there, and his words are sluggish, laced with fury. 

“Shut up, Patrick.”

You fall down onto your back, resting the vodka bottle on your stomach, holding it by the neck as you stare up at the ceiling. 

Patrick has been sitting opposite you, but he moves languidly forward, crawling up over your body. He braces one knee beside your hip as the other slots between your legs. 

You blink up at him as one of his hands rests beside your head and the other falls over your own where it still holds the vodka bottle. You let him take it from you, placing it beside your body before the hand then moves to rest on the other side of your head. 

You’re now trapped beneath him, his lithe body hovering just above yours.

When he leans in, his alcoholic breath almost sears your skin as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. 

“Sometimes, when we were fucking I would imagine that you were with us.” Patrick’s teeth nip at your ear. “I asked her once, you know, and she slapped me. Called me a pig. I think she was just mad because she liked having you to herself. You were such a devoted acolyte, kissing the ground she walked on—“

Fury bursts within you like a solar flare, red-hot and ruinous. He was talking about her in the past tense, as if she was dead to both of you already.

Art groans in pain when you knee him in the balls. You use the chance to shove him off you and he falls to the side, knocking the bottle of vodka over. 

As you stand up, you feel the alcohol seeping into the carpet at your feet. 

“You are a pig.” You hiss down at him.

 It’s your room, but you find yourself storming towards the door. 

You don’t get far before Patrick recovers, clambering to his feet and easily closing the distance with his long legs. 

You groan in frustration as he presses you into the door, one hand above your head and the other wrapping around your torso, his fingers dangerously close to brushing your breasts over your tank top. 

“If I’m a pig, why did you let me in?” He pressed his face into your neck and breathes you in.

 Some of the vodka has evidently soaked into his shirt, because the scent seizes you with the same violence with which he had. It’s a secondary intoxication. 

You words come out weakly, and you hate that it’s because you’re using so much energy fighting the urge to press back into him:

“I felt sorry for you.”

Patrick laughs. 

The smug bastard actually laughs right into your skin, the vibrations travelling all the way down to where your body has begun to ache the most. 

“Oh, sure.” He coos patronisingly. “It definitely wasn’t because you’ve wanted to fuck me for years.”

You should fight him, but you don’t want to. 

You should protest when the hand that he has pressed to the door moves to pull down one of the straps of your tank top. But you simply don’t want to.  You want him. 

Art had been right about both of you.

No sooner has the thin strip of fabric been removed from your shoulder, than Patrick is clamping his teeth down on the exposed flesh. You yelp in surprise, the pain a burst of sordid pleasure. 

Patrick laughs again, the hand he has pressed to your stomach pulling you flush against him. You can feel his need for you pressing into your backside, but in case you had somehow missed it, he bucks his hips up into you. 

You gasp and he laughs again, his tongue now running over the aggravated skin where his teeth have left a dent.

“We both know what this is.” He goads.

“And what is it?” You ask teasingly, your head now thrown back and resting against his chest. He groans into your neck as you grind yourself back onto him. 

“Inevitable.”

“Are you just doing this to get back at them?” You ask, not daring to speak their names. 

An angry grumble you can’t quite make sense of tears out of Patrick’s throat just before he is forcefully spinning you around. 

You get barely a glimpse of his feral smirk before he is easily picking you up again and throwing you over his shoulder. The slap he delivers to your ass is punishing and stings furiously as he practically throws you down onto the carpet.

The bed is right next to you, but the asshole apparently wants you on the scratchy carpet and with a wet patch where the vodka has soaked in.

“I’m doing this, because I have wanted to fuck you, from the moment I saw you dancing at that party.”

 You’ve barely got your breath back after being thrown about, when he is grabbing your calf and yanking you down so that you’re laying completely flat beneath him. 

“But you only ever pursued Tash-“ 

He cuts you off from saying her name by leaning down and pressing his mouth to your still clothed breast. His tongue swirls over the fabric, your nipple growing pert. 

When his knee presses up between your legs, parting them forcefully, your head falls back, strands of your hair wetted by the spilt alcohol. 

When Patrick bites down on your chest far too hard, your hand instinctively comes up to slap the side of his head.

 You’re so shocked by your own burst of violence that you go still at exactly the same time as Patrick, both of you breathing furiously. When he does peer up at you, his dark curls slick against his increasingly sweaty forehead, menace dances in his eyes. 

“Do that again.” 

You wish you could have feigned confusion or indignation for even a moment, but your blood is pumping to all the right places to urge you to make terrible, delightful decisions.

 Your second slap connects cleanly with his cheek, your palm tingling with the force as his head spins to the side. 

Your handprint is already a pink mark on his skin when he wraps his arms around your torso, lifting you up just enough so that he can pull your tank top off and throw it to the side. Your chest is left bare to him and he wastes no time before peppering kisses to your sternum, to your breasts and your neck, his arms still wrapped around you, his nails digging into your back. 

The throbbing ache between your legs becomes far too much to bear, so you curl your fingers into his hair and forcefully tug him away from your chest- a bead of saliva stretching between your flushed skin to his swollen lips. 

You lean your head forward, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting, pulling at it until he groans pathetically. You let him go, beyond pleased when you don’t have to tell him what you want next. 

You don’t want to wait any longer. You haven’t slept with anyone since you met him and Art. 

Art.

 Is it wrong that as Patrick pushes your back into the carpet and pulls down your sweatpants and underwear in one clean tug, that you close your eyes and briefly imagine that it’s Art instead?

You might have found an answer if you had more time, but when you open your eyes, Patrick is over you, his shorts and boxers already discarded alongside your clothes. His shirt is still on, but neither of you have the patience for the second or so it would take to get it off him. 

Patrick smirks down at you before pressing two of his fingers into your mouth, you open gladly, your eyes locked onto each other as he swirls them around. When he’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers out, and then licks his own hand, mixing himself with you. 

He swipes his wet hand over your already slick core a few times before he’s pressing himself inside of you. Your arms curl around his neck as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Fuck.” He groans, his tongue licking up the side of your neck as his hips begin to move. 

“Patrick.” You plead, your fingers digging into the nape of his neck. 

He knows what you want, nipping at your neck before he is driving into you with bruising force. 

In that moment, as you’re joined in the way you’ve wanted since the moment you’ve set eyes on him, you realise thar Tashi isn’t the only person that can make you feel real. 

As Patrick drives into you–his lips and teeth leaving marks on your flesh that will be wine-dark by morning, and the horrible fabric beneath you leaving carpet burn on your back– you finally know more than tennis can make you feel alive. 

The sex is forceful and punishing, but fuelled by a genuine passion. Nothing but your intermingled breaths and the sound of your joined bodies fills the room. 

If the two of you hadn’t been so lost to your pleasure, you might have heard Art knocking on your door. But you didn’t. 

He did however hear the two of you, so he walked away. 

You wouldn’t speak to him or Tashi again for over ten years.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You weren’t in New Rochelle to compete. You didn’t need to. You were on the top of your game, ranked the third best female player in the world. 

No, you were in New York because despite your better judgement-- and the many years that had passed since you’d last seen him--when Patrick Zweig had called you, you’d answered. 

You hadn’t heard his voice since you had told him that for your own sanity, you couldn’t see him anymore.

For the two years you had been together after Tashi had banished you both from her life, you had let Patrick consume you. And you had never played tennis so poorly in your life. 

You hated what that said about you, that you had willingly discarded someone you had genuinely cared for to improve your ability to hit a ball. But hitting that ball was what kept you alive, not him. 

Not only that, it hadn’t taken you long to realise that you didn’t love Patrick enough to let him affect your career.

And yet when he had called, you’d answered. And when he’d told you that Art Donaldson had entered the Challenger as a wildcard, you both knew that you would come. 

From the moment you had booked the flight, to the first step you’d taken into the hotel, you had lied to yourself that you were only coming for the closure that you hadn’t received as a twenty year old. 

But when you stepped into the hotel lobby and saw Tashi disappearing into the nearby elevator, your self-deception shattered. 

You were here because still, after all the time that had passed, you ached for the way that you had felt when she had been in your life. You missed her. And you had missed Art. 

It was a sickening truth of your life, that while no one had fucked with your head or upset you as much as Art had ended up doing, no one else had ever been so attentive to you either. 

Art had watched you—watched out for you—even when you weren’t playing tennis. In fact, in moments of utter stillness, when you had been doing nothing even remotely remarkable, was when you had always caught him staring. He never shied away, or broke his gaze when he was caught, he’d just smiled as if he wanted you to know he would never feel shame for being found looking at you. 

And that had not changed.

You have been sitting at the hotel bar for ten minutes, feeling sorry for yourself and nursing the same glass of gin and tonic, when you feel someone looking at you. 

You turn your head cautiously, your shoulders sagging as your eyes meet Art’s. He’s sitting on one of the small leather couches tucked into the far corner of the darkened room. 

It had been an inevitability, but things would have been so much easier if you never came across him. 

You know you shouldn’t move- part of you had come for closure and you could get that just by watching him compete tomorrow, so you don’t need to talk to him. 

But then Art tilts his head and smiles at you like no time has passed and pats his hand on the unoccupied space beside him on the couch. 

You get down off the barstool.

 As you approach, he watches unflinchingly.

The last time you had heard Art’s voice, was when Tashi had suffered her injury and he’d been permitted to stay by her side when she had ordered you away.

And yet even after so much time, when he greets you with a quiet ‘hello’, the pathetic girl who had pined after him returns.

You don’t respond as you come to a stop right in front of him, the tips of your heels right against the toes of his shoes, but you make no move to sit down. 

It’s of course not the first time you’ve seen him since college, or been at the same event, or even in the same room- you’re both highly successful tennis players, you couldn’t help but overlap sometimes. But neither of you have ever allowed yourselves to get close, or to even speak. 

It has been over ten years of your eyes connecting through crowds and across rooms that felt much larger than they were, simply because there was distance between the two of you within them. 

Art sits forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He’s fiddling with his wedding ring and you can’t bear to look at the familiar way his fingers carry out the gesture. 

When he looks up at you, it's so open and wanting that you almost turn right back around. But then you hear his voice again.

“Can I ask you to sit with me?” 

“I don’t know Art, can you?” 

He smiles, sighing softly as he runs his hand through his hair. It’s short- much shorter than the curls he’d had at college. You like it. It suits him. 

You shift on your feet, crossing your arms across your chest to cover up your nerves. Perhaps you can protect yourself if you look like you’re closed off from him and from…whatever this interaction is about to be. 

Art doesn’t say anything else, but he surprises you by rising to his feet. You stagger back, but his hand reaches out and lands on your side to steady.

His touch lingers for a moment too long, but he does eventually pull it away.

 But he’s still close, too close.

Your hands have fallen to your sides, so it is too easy for Art to reach out and brush his fingers against yours. He doesn’t intertwine them, but he’s doing enough to let you know that it’s what he wants to do. 

He whispers your name. “Will you please sit with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Art.” 

“When have you ever known me to have one of those?” 

You smile ruefully, but take a step back. His hand chases you, his fingers brushing against yours again as he tries to take your hand. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve known anything about you.” You say, hating how sad it sounds. 

You should be angry at least. His meddling and his desire for Tashi is what ripped you all apart. And he has her now. They have a daughter together.

He doesn't get to ask you for anything, not even if it’s just to sit with him. 

You can’t trust yourself to sit next to him. 

“You do know me. Time can’t change that.” He insists, quietly but firmly. 

You scoff nastily. “I knew Art Donaldson when he was in college. The world famous tennis player who does AD campaigns for sports cars with his wife, is a stranger to me.” 

“Yeah.” Art laughs darkly. “He’s a stranger to me too.” 

You frown at him, growing angry. He seems exhausted and down-trodden. He’s clearly hurting and you hate that you know that—you hate that you‘d been able to tell that even from across the bar—because it means that he’s right: you do still know him. 

“It’s late, Art. You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You turn away from him and while he doesn’t reach for you this time, he does call out. You keep you back to him as he asks his question. 

“Who do you want to win, me or Patrick?” 

“Tennis can’t decide a victor between the two of you, Art. It’s never been able to.”

When you walk to the elevator, you feel a physical strain as you stop yourself from looking back at him.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You were right, tennis couldn’t decide on a winner: it was as fickle and incomprehensible as the human heart. Which was fitting, seeing as Tashi had always described tennis as a relationship. 

You had sat only two places away from her during Patrick and Art’s match, and you know she had seen you. But there had been no reaction, her face had been impassive and set on the court, her eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. 

Now, the match was long over and a result had been given. And yet there hadn’t been a victory for anyone. Just like you knew there wouldn’t be.

Something had happened on that court between the two men, some silent, inexplicable exchange that had altered the very fabric of them.

This time, when Art knocks on your door, not only do you hear it, but you answer. 

You feel almost shocked when you pull open the door to reveal him, dressed in a grey t-shirt and flannel pyjama trousers. You’re surprised at the sight as if you hadn’t known he was coming- as if you hadn’t readily offered up your room number when he had messaged and asked for it.

You’re also somehow certain that Patrick had given him your number, but you didn’t want to dwell on what sort of exchange had led to him handing it over.

Without a word, you step away from the door, self-consciously tightening the cord that holds the silk robe around your body. You stop and face the windows.

The curtains are drawn, by you stare forward as though the whole skyline is on display to you. 

The door to your room clicks shut.

You hear Art take off his shoes before his feet are padding towards you. 

When his arms wrap around your waist, you close your eyes and savour the sensation. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, so you lift a hand and rest it on the side of his head. 

“I want to retire at the end of this year.” He says and you can feel his exhaustion in the slow breaths that coast over your neck. 

“So retire.” You answer softly, your eyes still on the curtains. “You’re tired.”

You know you don’t need to clarify. Thanks to the grateful press of his lips against your neck, you know he understands what you mean. 

Art is weary of all that he has to be when he’s playing tennis; he’s tired of the effort it takes to play the sport for not just him, but for Tashi too. His wife has been living vicariously through him. He’s been living for two people, taking the strain of two professional athletes combined. 

You know there had never been any point in competing with Art or Patrick, because Tashi would always love tennis the most. 

A shiver wracks your body as Art’s hand reaches for the bow that’s keeping your otherwise bare body concealed from him.

 “Can I?” His request is whined into your hair as he presses his face into the back of your head. 

Instead of answering verbally, you nudge his hand away and untie the robe yourself. Then, you take hold of both of his wrists and guide his hands onto your skin. You let out a sigh of relief when Art finally touches you the way you want him to. 

Your hands are still on him as his fingers move to cup your breasts, but he is the one guiding his movements now. He squeezes, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

“Art.” You rasp, pressing back into him wantonly. 

“Can I have you?” He asks, pressing open mouthed, hot kisses to your neck as he palms your breasts. “Please, let me have you.” 

“Stop fucking asking me and just do it.” 

You feel him grin against your neck just before he backs away, pulling back your robe and tugging it from your body.

The fabric has barely had time to pool at your feet when he’s grabbing you by the hips, his fingers digging in as he turns you. 

When Art’s lips finally claim yours, you moan unashamedly. His kiss is gentle but assured, you struggle for breath as he refuses to release you. Then, his hands are cupping your ass and he’s lifting you up. 

With his lips still moving hungrily against yours, Art settles you onto the edge of the bed. When he draws back, your lips chase after him and he smiles, grasping your face in his hands and giving you one more brief but searing kiss before he’s dropping to the ground.

 His hands press into your knees, forcing them apart as he begins to kiss and lick up your inner thighs. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching where his mouth ravenously meets your flesh, tracing his path as he works his way closer to where you want him most.

When he reaches the top of your thigh, Art peers up at you through his long eyelashes, already looking drunk on you as he presses another kiss to your burning skin. 

“Lay back.” He instructs gently. 

But you’re too transfixed to listen- too desperate to see the moment his lips land on your core to look away.

He smiles at the realisation, delighting in your shudder as his tongue darts out and licks a line up your centre. 

“Oh my- fuck!” Your head falls back, already lost in the feeling of his mouth's devoted ministrations. 

As Art pleasures you, one of his hands skates up your stomach and gently presses down, asking rather than forcing you to lay back. This time you oblige, your eyes closed as your hands fist in the sheets. 

“You deserve so much more than I can give you.” 

You smile to yourself. Only Art could grovel as he gives so much pleasure.

Tightness begins to coil in your lower belly, but the moment he adds a teasing finger to his tongue’s movements, you realise you can’t wait. 

“Art- stop.” You gasp out, sitting up and resting your hands on his head. 

He halts immediately but doesn’t remove himself from between your legs. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, his hands rubbing soothingly along your thighs. 

“It’s not enough.” You say, tugging on his hair, trying to get him to come to you. “I need you.” 

Art doesn’t have to be asked twice, but he also doesn’t rush. He presses one last kiss to your now very sensitive folds before he’s climbing over you. 

You shuffle back, settling yourself onto the middle of the bed and even as Art takes off his clothes, he watches you. It’s as if he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. 

Now completely naked, he lays himself over you, his arms braced beside your head. He positions himself so carefully thar it’s almost as though he’s trying to fit himself to the shape of you- every divot and curve perfectly aligned sp that you’ll be fused together forever. 

As Art sweeps hair out from your face, his blue eyes bore down into you with an adoring intensity. 

You smile up at him and he rewards you by cradling your face in his hands, he lowers his head, his nose brushing yours as he gently takes your lower lip between his teeth.

Only when you understand what he wants and you open your mouth, does he kiss you again, his tongue delving in deeply.

As he seeks to consume you, your hands run down his back, squeezing his sides with your thighs. 

Art’s still kissing you as one of your hands reaches the curve of his arse, you dig your nails in and he jolts, his mouth moving away from yours and travelling down your neck. 

Tentatively, you move one hand around and down between his legs and when your hand wraps around him, he falters, his kisses stopping. 

“Is this alright?” 

Art moves again, licking the sweat slick expanse of skin between your breasts.

“Anything you do will be alright.” He assures, his lips brushing a nipple and making your back arch. 

“Do you want to have sex, Art?” You ask, barely restraining yourself.

His breaths are hot against your sensitive breasts when he answers. “Please.”

It is a joint effort as he slides inside of you. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he presses kisses into yours.

Art groans as he begins to move achingly slowly, his hips rolling over yours with precision. 

You're happy like that for a few minutes, both of you revelling in your closeness after years subjected to absent desire for one another. But eventually, you want more.

You yearn for more force and luckily as you buck up into him, Art gets the message.

 As one of his hands moves behind your head, cradling it so that he can keep kissing you, the other wraps around your thigh, and pulls your leg higher over his hip, allowing himself to get even deeper. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says in-between sloppy kisses, moving rapidly as you moan and whine. “You’ve always been so beautiful.”

Even with him inside you, making you feel more desired than anyone ever has, your mind drifts to that first night you had met him. The first night you had met Patrick. 

“You stared at Tashi.” You say.

You aren’t accusatory or upset, if anything the acknowledgement if it turns you on more. All four of you have always had a desire for the other, and it feels powerful to finally acknowledge it.

“-That night on the beach, you couldn't take your eyes off her. Neither of you could.” 

“I wanted you.” Art asserts with a particularly powerful thrust. “I- I wanted you so badly, but you went home.”

You nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you meet his thrusts. 

You understand his thinking. You’d often wondered how things might have changed had you not gone home early that night. If you’d stayed on the beach and then gone to their hotel room along with Tashi. 

Entirely content with just moving as one, you both fall silent and somehow Art curls over you even more tightly, like he wants his whole body to hide yours from the world. 

After you’ve both found your release he takes you into the shower and cleans himself off of your sensitive skin, each swipe of the washcloth accompanied by a kiss.

It ends up being time wasted though, because when you return to the bed, he takes you twice more.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You wake up with Art’s head resting on your bare chest. He’s laying on his side, one arm stretched out on the pillow above your head and his other hand resting on your hip. 

You’re sore in the most pleasant of ways as you sit up. You try to move slowly but Art stirs anyway, his head turning to press open mouthed kisses to your sternum. 

You rest your hand on his cheek, meaning to guide him away, but he moves so that he can kiss the palm of your hand instead. 

It’s only when you sigh into his touch, his eyes still closed as his other hand delves between your legs, that you realise why you had woken up int he first place. 

Someone was knocking on your door. 

And then you hear her voice. 

Tashi is calling out your name, sounding almost panicked.

 “Please, open the door, I know you’re in there.”

This time when you push Patrick away, he obliges, but far less quickly than you would have liked.

 In the time it takes for you to throw on your silk robe and gather up all of his clothes from the floor, he has barely got himself to stand up. He’s naked and blinking sleepily at you. 

When you shove the bundle of his clothes into his arms, he rushes to press a passionate kiss to your lips, holding the back of your head with his free hand.

You aren’t sure you want to know whether he’s truly still half asleep and genuinely hasn’t realised what is happening, or if he just doesn’t care that his wife is outside the door.

Flushed but furious at his casual demeanour, you push Art into the bathroom and close the door, just as Tashi knocks again.

 The repeated request for you to come to the door tumbles from her lips like a prayer.

You brace your hand against the door as you draw in a fortifying breath and smooth out your hair. You swear you can feel her through the door. 

The moment you open the door, Tashi is bursting in and closing it behind her. You step back, waiting for her to make the first move, for her to shout of attack or go charging into the bathroom. But she does none of those things. 

Instead, Tashi pulls you into a crushing hug. You go still, shocked but healed by it at the same time.

She pulls back, taking your face in her hands.

 “You’re a phenomenal tennis player.” Tashi says it rapturously. 

If you weren’t burning up at the feel of her hands on you, you might have laughed at how ridiculously perfect it was that those were her first words to you after over a decade. 

Tashi communicated and connected through tennis. She loved through tennis.

All you can muster is a very sincere: “Thank you.”

Tashi brushes your hair out of your face, tucking a stray piece behind your ear. You find your hands lifting, resting atop hers where they hold your cheeks.

“You need to let me coach you.” Tashi demands almost possessively.

“I have a coach.”

“They’re not me.”

“No, they’re not.”

And just like that, you were snared again. 

You had gone years without any of them, and with one word, you had allowed all three of them back into your life.

 Only this time, you know it might actually kill you if any of them leave. And perhaps it would kill them too. 

Only time would tell.

[pearlywritings]

In father’s embrace

synopsis: HSR men as dads and what your family dynamic is like.

pairings: Blade, Gepard, Loucha, Sampo, Jing Yuan x fem!reader (separately)

tw: fluff, established relationship, implied initial mortal x immortal in Blade’s

word count: 5.2k words

a/n: Luofu Xianzhou timeline is hell, so Blade’s one is quite vague. Here’s the Genshin version!

Blade

Blade tends to say that he has no connection to his past, but that is not true and very few (mostly Kafka) know he is lying. Even with his life and death fucked up he can't simply let go of someone his heart has been always full with, of someone who he promised himself to by the altar, even if under another name, of someone, who gifted him the joy of both his previous and current life - your daughter.

The blade - a cold weapon with no feelings - should not experience being lucky, but that’s what he was, when you clutched him in your arms the first time after his return from the dead and sobbed in his chest, telling him how much you missed him, how much his little angel missed him.

Back then he should've left without a trace, maybe even coming to you in the first place was a mistake, but he just couldn't. And his resolve crumbled completely when a white-haired toddler in your arms gazed at him with the same soft eyes as yours and reached out to his face, hesitantly asking "dada?".

As much as Blade is capable - he loves you and your daughter. He is quite absent due to his involvement with the Stellaron Hunters, but you understand how important that magenta-haired woman's ability is when it comes to restraining the mara in his body. After all that's the reason why he can visit without fear of hurting you or his little girl.

Some other sacrifices had to be made - one of them was moving from the Lofu Xianzhou, but that was alright and your daughter loved her new environment. Besides, dada has been visiting more often ever since you moved! And no one really bothered or chased after you (after all, you are still registered as his wife and higher ups of Lofu know), which, you assumed, was somehow connected with a young girl that once came with Blade.

Kafka once brought up a proposition of moving you two to the Stellaron Hunters' base for Blade's easier access, but he declined. At least his loved ones should have a peaceful everyday life.

With a tired sigh the black-haired man lowers himself on a sofa in the living room of the house you two purchased to start a seemingly new life. The red-hot iron in his eyes disappears behind the heavy eyelids and for a moment Blade allows himself to relax. The little wonder, that is his daughter, ran to your bedroom to fetch some hair accessories, after you encouraged your husband to let her style his long locks.

He doesn’t move when you sit next to him, hip to hip and heart to heart. He welcomes your sneaking fingers, curling his, creating a secure lock of hands. The weight of your head resting on his shoulder is grounding and he can’t help but press his cheek against it.

It’s soothingly silent.

It almost reminds him of the past.

“For how long will you be staying this time?

Even your question, spoken in a tender, understanding voice, is familiar. You used to ask him the same thing in-between his Cloud Quintet-related missions. 

These days it’s difficult to sneak and see you during breaks though.

“Fifteen days,” his breath is even, and eyes are still shut, but he senses a smile that tugs on the corners of your lips.

“That’s a lot. She will be so happy,” and he knows that you are as well.

The rapid stomping of little feet bursts into your peaceful serenity, and you simultaneously glance at the doorway. Low and behold - the soon-to-be hair stylist is proudly running into the room, tightly clutching your jewelry box with various hair pins inside.

“Dad, I practiced! Mom says I’ve been making huuuuuuge progress!”

A tiny smile touches his pale lips - it’s such a miracle that a monster like him is blessed to have the most adorable child in the whole universe. With her and you by his side, this life gets more and more bearable.

“If mom says you’ve been, then it must be the truth,” he nods, letting go of your hand - but not before giving it a little affectionate stroke with his thumb, - sliding down and onto the floor, turning his back to the girl.

Giggling excitedly, she gives you the box, which you quickly unlock, and starts looking through the many intricate pieces of jewelry (many are your beloved’s presents), until finding the perfect one.

Having his hair being touched is weird. He was aware that the white luscious locks used to draw attention, but only you were honored to run your fingers through them, and only his baby was allowed to tug on them, making her father wince. Now it’s different - she is oh so careful, brushing, collecting stray locks and braiding, not once causing him pain.

Blade sighs again, but looks at you from the corner of his eye, catching you snickering in your palm upon gazing at something that your daughter is turning his hair into. Well, that’s concerning.

But at this very moment he can’t bring himself to care. If he gets fifteen whole days before his next mission, he is going to savor this time with his family - no matter how disastrous he’s going to look by the end of it.

Gepard

A family man. So no one was surprised when in the end the leader of the Silvermane Guards ended up with three kids - two sons and a daughter. Partly it was dictated by the rules of nobles and his family among them, but ultimately it was your mutual sincere decision.

It’s obvious he is not there for many of his kids’ first times, as sometimes his duties prevail and even the Supreme Guardian cannot help it, but he really-really tries to be there as much as possible. He appreciates the videos you send him, has every single one stored in his phone’s memory and sometimes, when there is no communication, in his spare moment he replays them to remind himself that soon he’ll return home and see his kids and you.

Only one time he really fucked up because of work - during your first pregnancy you both underestimated the soon arrival of your due date and he left on a mission with his troops, reassured that he’ll be back before the day you go into labor. The snowstorm was severe and the connection was cut, so the message Serval sent him when your water broke was not delivered. His soldiers would bring to their graves the image of a deathly pale Gepard, when many hours later he checked his phone back at the base and nearly broke the screen, trying to type his sister’s number.

After that he started taking paternity leave seriously.

You do not keep in touch with his parents a lot - there were instances where they disapproved of you, but all of his siblings are always welcomed in your house and to see their nephews and niece, because they supported your relationship from the moment they met you in flesh.

Serval is an enormous help when it comes to babysitting. It’s like her part-time job honestly - you even offered to pay her, but she declined, suggesting offering her a helping hand whenever she’d need instead. Oh, and to be the first one out of all the Landau siblings (after her brother, of course) to know about the latest updates on your kids.

The kids that are adorable. All three won the ‘blue eyes’ lottery, which, given the previous generations of Landau, is not a big surprise; both boys look like Gepard, while the girl took more after you in appearance. The man really doesn’t want to play favorites, but sometimes he is just too weak for his little princess, who looks just like her mom. She is the youngest too with a pretty big age gap between her and her brothers, who were born a year apart, so there is literally no jealousy, because your sons took their father’s example and became her protectors.

Even from a 'big bad dragon' that is their aunt…

When you step inside your house and hear the kids still fussing somewhere in the rooms, involuntarily your gaze falls to the old grandfather’s clock in the foye. Almost midnight. All three should be long asleep with Serval sending you a notification of her success. Which you didn’t receive and for that reason had to cut your date short and hurry back home.

Your husband looks as concerned as you are, locking the door and straining his ears to determine what’s going on. With both your coats abandoned, you carefully step further into the house, making your way to the line of light coming from under one of the doors.

Two jaws almost kiss the floor when you see Serval lying on the floor tied and gagged with a scarf. Alone. For a moment you fear the worst.

Rushing inside, you let Gepard search the other rooms for intruders. Helping your sister-in-law to sit is no problem, but the knot behind her head is awfully tightened. In the end you manage to yank it down to free her mouth, quickly switching to the rope constricting her hands.

“Y/n, oh my god,” she gasps, finally able to speak. “Who taught your sons to tie knots like this!? I didn’t know a sixteen- and fifteen-year olds can be so strong-”

“Come again?” Stunned, you stop untying her wrists, looking at the woman with widened eyes. Your boys did what?

“My precious nephews - whom I really do not want to strangle - took the game of knights too seriously, and when - maybe a half an hour ago? - I decided to play the dragon who was stealing the princess - my niece of three years, - they attacked and tied me!”

“Huh…” is all you can say, feeling relief wash over you. At least there are no burglars or kidnappers and your kids are safe.

When, listening Serval’s huffs of complaints, you move to untie her legs, the heavy steps of your husband are heard in the hallway, accompanied by the boys whining and begging their dad not to come to the living room, because the dragon would eat their sister.

His tall figure appears in the doorway, with your daughter in his arms, looking very sleepy, and two almost carbon copies of their dad pulling at his jacket to give them their sister back.

“Serval, what in blazes have you told them?” The judging tone and the squint of his blue eyes are directed at his elder sibling.

“It was just a game, Geppie! A silly game they turned into reality.”

“Aunt said she’d eat her,” your oldest pouts, eyeing her cautiously. “And she told us stories about the cannibals the other night-”

“Serval, you what?”

“Hey, they asked me to! Oh, thanks, Y/n,” she shrugs the loosened rope off of her. “Where did you even get this?”

“Aunt Lynx gave us,” the second son chirps, hugging Gepard’s side. “She showed us how to do knots.”

“This little-”

Suddenly you feel a headache coming. With big family come big challenges, but something of this caliber hasn’t happened in a while. It makes you smile though - you almost forgot what it was like - to raise two boys. Seems like your girl brings the borderline naughtiest out of them.

Loucha

To begin with it's worth mentioning that your and Loucha's marriage started as an unpredictable necessity. You both needed to enter the world that allowed only married foreigners' access. So, quickly figuring that your goal matches, you got married on a neighboring planet, spent a month there to make the marriage more believable in the sense of its duration and learning more about each other. Yeah, all of that just to fulfill your respectful jobs. You invented and rehearsed all the possible answers to the questions, perfected your affectionate act and were actually feeling quite comfortable around each other.

It was almost funny, when on the 'how many kids do you plan to have?' Loucha confidently answered 'two', and a couple of years later your first son was born, and then, after 7 more years, another one was too.

Admittedly, the oldest one was kind of unplanned, but at that point you traveled so much together, shared so many memories, even ended up caring for each other on a lover-like level, that you decided to give it a shot, just like you did with the continuation of your marriage.

And Loucha couldn't be more pleased. Surprisingly, he found the peace of those first years he spent settled down to raise your boy delightful. And there was something exciting about having a little wonder with a perfect mix of both of your features in your arms, as your husband's hand is resting on the small of your back, leading you through the crowds of the new planet's lively market, as the child's eyes shine with marvel, taking in his surroundings.

When Loucha suggested having another one it simply felt right.

Your sons are so lucky in the sense of seeing the universe, because their father is a traveling merchant. Sure, he doesn't always take you and your two boys with him, but whenever his deal allows him enough freedom and your kids are doing great in school and can be taken on a little vacation - you three are going with him.

Usually he gets to take care of the youngest one, since only Loucha's vast knowledge can satisfy his curiosity, while the oldest one calmly walks hand in hand with you, content with listening to their conversation and pointing out to you the things he already knows himself, receiving a soft praise from you and an approving nod from his father.

Back home the roles reverse - the oldest is spending most of his time with Loucha to learn all about medicine and healing techniques, while the youngest is more interested in sharing your hobbies. 

The two hardly ever quarrel as siblings tend to do, and it must be because of the overall serene atmosphere of your family dynamic, your soft nature and your husband's tranquil behavior. 

More than a decade ago Loucha wouldn't have imagined himself with a wife and kids. Nowadays, however, he doesn't like the thought of not having the three of you by his side.

It is a quiet afternoon. A little house you rented for a little vacation has a nice yard - perfect for the kids to have fun outside. You occasionally glance at them from the window of the kitchen to make sure everything is fine, while your hands never stop moving - washing, cutting, stirring.

At some point you are so caught in the moment of tranquility, that you do not hear your husband walking in, until he softly hums to alert you of his presence, and puts his palms on your waist.

“Smells delicious,” you smile, feeling his chin on your shoulder, and grab a piece of a tangerine you are meaning to use for dessert, offering it to him.

“Mhm, I am trying to cook what we had yesterday at that restaurant.”

Ah, right, the restaurant the kids enjoyed. He remembers how you sneaked to the kitchen and came back with a little less credits, but with new recipes and an excited smile on your face.

“Hopefully my rendition will be to our boys’ liking. And don’t think I forgot about you - those Loufu Xianzhou-style noodles are already on their way!”

“So thoughtful of you, darling,” his silky voice caresses your ear and not a second later a kiss is pressed to your cheek. “Do you need any help?”

“Weren’t you busy?” You decide to clarify, clearly recounting how he locked himself in one of the rooms earlier that day to test something. To your question Loucha shakes his head.

“All done already. And I missed you and the kids.”

“Then go and play with them,” you urge, turning to face him to offer a sweet smile. “I’ll handle it here, but the boys could use some quality time with their father.”

“You say that as if they didn’t drag us all around the city yesterday and then climb into our bed and refuse to leave.”

“I mean, it’s the first time in two months they properly see you. That last deal of yours was exceptionally time-consuming.”

“You kept me updated on them so well and those video calls we had… it didn’t even feel like I ever left.”

You only huff and return your gaze to the stove, yet leaning into his chest a little. For a minute it’s quiet, and the man is taking his time before parting from you. That is until he takes a deep inhale and nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Thank you, Y/n.”

“What for, handsome?” There is that teasing lilt in your voice he came to love. Over the course of your lives together he discovered many things to love you for, and if not for that desperate decision to get married - he thinks he’d hardly ever feel the same about his life.

“For everything.”

He leaves your side with a kiss on your shoulder and the next time you glance out of the window again - he is already there, hoisting his youngest in one arm and chasing after the oldest one with his hair swaying in the gentle wind. And your heart is at peace. 

Sampo

In all his life Sampo has managed to never impregnate a single woman and he considers that a success. For all the crap people speak about him Sampo is not an idiot, even though he acts like a fool at times. He is extremely self-aware and bringing a child to this world is probably the last thing on his list.

But no one said anything about someone else’s child, right?

Your and Sampo’s relationship is… strange, not going to lie. One evening you happened to help a scared woman to escape from some drunkards (whom you lately found out were the Silvermane Guards, sober and on duty), only for the long wig to slip and the heavy coat to slide down, revealing shortly cut but nicely styled hair and obviously male broad shoulders. The only thing the man managed to get out was a sheepish “hehe”.

And boy did that “hehe” change your life.

That day Sampo Koski got off the hook, since you didn’t comment anyhow and just let him go, which, given you were an overworlder, he found intriguing. So he dug a little bit, out of pure curiosity. Besides, this man didn't like staying in debt to someone and he needed information to see how he could pay you back.

That’s when he found out you were a single mother. An opera singer, but divorced and with full custody over a six-year old daughter.

And honestly, he didn’t give it much thought at first. He simply arranged a nice bouquet of red roses for you, paid Natasha a little for a handmade plushie and left it all at the door steps with a ‘thank you’ note.

Until a couple of weeks ago, disguised again, he didn’t stumble into a group of kids obviously bullying a little girl, mocking her for not having a father, and throwing something among themselves that she tried to catch. And he recognized the toy. And one glance was enough to see how much she looked like the woman he met only once. And against his better judgment Sampo walked to the children, easily snatching the toy and effectively scaring everyone off. Only with that little girl still being there, eyes full of unshed tears and fingers digging in the skirt of her pretty dress.

That tiny ‘thank you’ when he handed the plushie back to her and she hugged it tightly to her chest made the conman’s heart clench, and for the second time that day he sent his plans to hell, keeping her company near the house you lived in until you arrived from work.

That day he learned many things - how much your daughter loved the toy and what a sweet little thing she was, how tired a person can look and how much a throat can hurt from the whole day of singing during rehearsals, how nice a home-made dinner can be once you are invited, but most importantly - how even such a damned man like him can be gazed upon with gratitude and not from one, but two people.

From that day many other instances happened, but in the end he just stuck around. It was strange, it was new, but in a sense it was comforting, especially when you would come home - on Friday, for example, - and he’d be there, entertaining your daughter and then greeting you with a smile and a silly wave of his hand.

You don’t have a husband, and your daughter doesn’t have a father - but with his presence Sampo Koski manages to fill those voids even if a little bit.

Aeons you love days off. A morning to finally sleep in and do not run around like crazy in attempts to get yourself and your kid ready. Even breakfast wasn’t on you today, because the ‘silly man’ stayed the night and told you to get your sleep, assuring you with that confident puff of his chest that the Sampo Koski would offer you his best service, which effectively made you giggle.

Tonight he even cuddled with you, letting you bury your face in his neck and be a little vulnerable in the arms of a man with whom you had the most peculiar relationship ever. But after such equally peculiar moments you really start thinking of suggesting moving from the couch in the living room to your bedroom permanently. It’s been months already, who would’ve thought.

Barefoot and not even glancing at the robe on the chair near the window you leave the room, rubbing at your eyes and brushing your hair away from your face. You are craving the cup of your morning drink, and so you let your legs carry you to the kitchen at first. However two voices coming from your wardrobe room instantly peak your interest and make you halt in your walking. What on earth could your daughter and your clown of a man be doing there?

And soon enough you find it out.

“Sit still, please!” The girl begs with an eye shadow palette in one tiny hand and a huge brush in the other. “It’ll smudge if you keep turning to the mirror!”

“Just can’t wait to see how beautiful I am, princess, ‘s all~”

There, on the floor among the rows of your clothes and shelves with beauty products and accessories, none other than Sampo is sitting, willingly offering his face to your daughter’s practice of applying makeup. And gods he looks absolutely hilarious.

But that’s not what exactly concerns you.

“Is that my dress?” You point at the red shimmery thing snuggly sitting on the man in front of you and that’s when the two notice you.

“Yes, mommy!”

“Say I pulled it off, right?” With a smirk the green-eyed menace winks at you and it looks even worse with poorly done lashes. You have to stifle your laughter. “Though I must admit, we had to keep it unzipped - my chest appeared to be bigger than yours-”

And that’s when you regret not bringing slippers with you - one flying in his head would be of great help.

“Sometimes I really hate you.”

“Nuh, sweet thing, you love me!”

“Well,” you step closer, grabbing a tissue to try and fix at least the overly bright blush on his cheeks, “maybe. Maybe I actually do.”

Suddenly Sampo is tongue-tied and silent, trying very hard to fight off the stupid grin forcing its way onto his face. But with thoroughly smeared red lipstick on his mouth it looks so damn comical.

“Mom, do you think pa looks pretty?” Your daughter hopefully asks, putting aside her tools, and that little two-letter word doesn’t go unnoticed by either of you. You feel a real blush burning under your deft fingers.

“Yes, sweety, Pa-mpo looks very pretty,” his head whips in your direction like you’ve just told him to go and surrender to the Belobog’s esteemed order keepers.

“...Pa-mpo?”

“Would you prefer Da-mpo instead?” Cocking your head in question, you smirk at him, relishing in the pout he is wearing at the moment. “Or maybe Sam-pa?”

“No, thank you very much,” he huffs. “Little princess called me ‘pa’, so be nice and respect it.”

And now it is you who is surprised. You haven’t really discussed with Sampo who he was to your daughter, and who she was to him - but if he is making this step of acknowledging the matter, then who are you to spoil it? Who knows, maybe things will work out quite pleasantly in the end.

“Alright, pa, I will respect that.”

“Hey! For you I am your precious popo baby, a koskiss to your lips, the love of your-”

“Don’t even dream of it.”

Jing Yuan

Yanqing would be enough of an answer to the kid question, but it is not. Sure, his young disciple is practically a son to the General, but it doesn't mean the man doesn't want his own children.

He does and he has. On multiple occasions Jing Yuan's subordinates walked in on him with a small figure sitting in his lap or perched on his strong arm, observing what the dad's been up to with his plans and documents. You scolded your husband for this many times, but the bastard only smiles and keeps stealing his daughter to work to keep him company. Or she sneaks on her own - that caused you many almost heart attacks when she was no older than a couple of decades.

For Jing Yuan it’s all good though - he gets to spend time with his baby and have you inevitably join him in search for your adventurous child.

The General has a separate folder for all the pictures of his daughter on his phone - every single one he takes and every single one you send him when he couldn’t bring his girl to some of his meetings (yet he really tried, until you put your foot down and saved many of his subordinates from the prolonging of said meetings). Even the background, hidden from prying eyes behind the passcode of your and her birthdays, is his little one, cradled in your arms, as the two of you are watching kites flying in the sky.

Yanqing at first was set on treating her with the same respect he does his mentor and you, his wife, but you quickly put an end to it, basically turning the boy into her older brother. He didn’t mind at all - if anything he is sometimes way too eager to push the two of you to go on a date so he can babysit. Often you would return to the two fast asleep either on the girl’s bed or cuddled to Mimi with toys scattered and at least two books lying on the floor. The huge lion adores the girl - sometimes you feel like it thinks of her as its own cub, and the thick mane of hair your daughter got from her father does not help.

And it appeared to be as eager to steal your daughter from you as your husband is…

“Y/n!” You practically jump when the doors to your bedroom fly open and Jing Yuan bursts inside. Immediately you notice his disheveled state - hair down and a mess, the robe he wore this morning for comfortable work in his home office is falling off one of his shoulders and a shoe is missing from his foot.

“Aeons, Yuan, don’t scare me like that,” you put a comb down on your vanity table and fully turn to face him. “What happened?”

“Is our precious baby with you?” He steps further into the room and starts looking around frantically. Okay, now that got worrisome.

“No? You took her earlier this afternoon after lunch to play in your study while you work. Have you really forgotten that? My love, you are getting old.”

You hear clearly as he curses under his breath, raking thick fingers through his hair. The golden eyes look at you and in them you spot a flicker of anxiety.

“...Jing Yuan, don’t tell me that you managed to lose our daughter.”

“I didn’t, I swear,” he winces at the full name usage, watching you rise from your seat and quickly approach him. “She was right by my side, watching the animal videos on my phone, but then I got immersed in the latest reports from the Sky-Faring Commission and when I finished whose - she was gone!”

“Uh, want me to call your phone? Maybe she still has it.”

To that he puts a hand in the robe’s pocket and brings out his device. Oh god.

“It was lying on the floor, still playing videos.”

“Okay, deep breaths,” you are not sure if you are telling it to him or to yourself, but you too take an inhale, meanwhile busying your hands with adjusting his clothes. “Even buried in work you’d still notice if a human sneaked in, right?” He nods. “And you’d notice if she left - she would’ve warned you about that.” He nods again, lips pursed and eyes staring at one point. “Yanqing is not as skilled to come unannounced and take her, and he wouldn’t do it without your permission, so-”

“Wait,” his hand catches yours and realization flashes in his features. “Mimi came.”

“...Mimi?” Before you can ask him to elaborate, your husband turns around and rushes out of the bedroom. Concerned and a little bit intrigued, you quickly follow.

In one of the rooms of your huge house the two of you finally find the lion, and Jing Yuan almost drops on the floor in relief when his girl is spotted in the animal’s embrace. 

“Is she…sleeping?” You ask, glancing from behind his broad back.

“It appears so. Hey, Mimi,” the maned head lifts, two ambers taking in your appearances and a pleased huff is let out through the nose upon recognition.

“Well, my dear,” you pat his shoulder, shaking your head, “it appears that people were right - like the owner, like the pet. Congratulations, your lion took your habit of stealing our daughter to heart. Good luck prying her from it.”

“You say it like it’s something hard to do,” there it is, a confident smile is back on his face as he strides closer to the animal, ready to bend down and get his girl. Only for that lift of the corners of his lips to be gone when Mimi growls at him in a warning and shields your daughter’s little body with its head.

You only smirk and leave the scene to go and get your phone - there is no way you are not filming your husband dealing with the consequences of his own behavior.

[weird-dere-writes]

Government mandated exposure of Biscy's tags:

immortal and the human they've been cursed to watch die over and over again

[screeching-bunny]

I'm intrigued by the idea of yandere priest harem.

Just a bunch of sexually repressed men that now have a tangible person to 'worship'.

Yandere! Priest Harem

Warnings: Obsessive Behavior, Yandere Thoughts, Bad Writing, Stalking, Possessive Behavior, Reader is Referred as ‘You’

Tags: @endism

What the fuck. You can’t believe it but you accidentally started a cult. You weren't sure how but you managed to do it. Everything about it was planned perfectly for you. From the moment you were kidnapped to the moment where you gave in, there was always some sort of routine that the priest followed that seemed almost robotic. Every word or phrase spoken to you seemed somewhat rehearsed as if they were doing everything in their power to make you pleased and happy. Everything that you requested or asked for was quickly met. Did you just say that you were hungry? Don’t worry, wait a couple more minutes and a feast will be made just for you. Did something catch your eye while you were shopping? In a couple minutes it is purchased and given to you. Never in your life had you seen a group more downbad people then these priests. They are incredibly whipped for you and treat you as if you were some kind of God.

Although you were kidnapped you soon learned to just accept the role as their false God. Why? Well to simply put you were just plain lazy and if being kidnapped allowed you to live a luxurious life without needing to work then so be it. Screw having a job and screw having to pay for bills. You will accept this position with grace and take advantage of it however you would like. The only thing that bothered you was why the hell were people joining this stupid cult!?!? By now you expected the stupid priests to run out of money by now due to your spending habits but why on Earth are people still continuing to donate to them!?!? There just always seems to be a never ending supply of money!!!

“Did you see them? The God of this religion is such a cutie. Do you think I have a shot at becoming a priest? Hell, I wouldn’t even mind being a sacrifice to them.” (Go away).

“I just donated my entire retirement fund to them. It’s so worth it. Did you see how cute their sneezes are? I could literally just die!!!” (Then die).

“I shook their hand a few days ago with my right hand. I haven’t washed it since.” (Gross).

Dammit that's why. You're so called “followers” were nothing but a group of some weirdo simps. The only thing that you ever did around this place was give speeches to your cult that came right out of your ass and they would eat it up everytime too. It is so bad that you could literally say that the Earth was flat and they would go to war to defend that you were right. You’ve never seen a group of more stupider people. As of right now you were currently giving out one of those bullshit speeches to your followers.

“... which is why cats are superior over dogs. If you have a cat tell them I said pspspspsp.”

One of the priests raises their hand, “Can you repeat that whole thing again? That was super cute and I forgot to press record.”

Another priest responds with, “Don’t worry I caught it all and I’ll send it to you later. In exchange, can I have that limited edition picture of them sleeping with a teddy bear.”

Another voice shouts, “Wait! I have some never seen before photos of them. Are you willing to trade it for the limited edition picture?”

“...”

Later that night you soon discover that there is a “trading card game” going around the cult using your pictures. You weren’t even sure how they even managed to take these photos but they somehow have them and how were these mass produced without you even noticing!?!? Why are they out of stock and why are they so popular!?!? Everyday is a never ending migraine for you. Just when you thought the priests couldn’t disappoint you even further, they always manage to prove you wrong. If they weren’t the ones feeding you, you would have been long gone by now.

Waking up always felt like a struggle most of the time. Like it literally was a struggle because there was always someone in your bed with you. They would constantly cuddle up to you as close as possible and make it difficult to leave the bed with their weight holding you down. By the time you wake up breakfast is already made and there is someone constantly fighting to decide who gets to feed you. After breakfast, you stroll around the gigantic garden that was funded with the money of taxpayers. Afternoons are spent giving out wack speeches and talking to your loyal followers. Dinners are the same as breakfast and there is competition on who gets to bathe with you. Quite often these end up turning physical fights between everyone. During the night you're out like a light and it’s a repeat of everything the next day.

Every passing day makes you so concerned for the mental health of others. There is just no way that any of these people are mentally sane. They have to be on drugs or something. You refused to believe that these were rational adults that are contributing members of society. No matter how much you try to change your personality, they always find a way to coo at you. On the days that you act like a brat you are met with the responses of, “Oh my god look at them pout that's so adorable!! Now step on me–”. On the days you act lazy it’s met with, “You don’t have to move I’ll do it all for you! Just let me lick your–”. Are you acting happy today? Well that's met with, “Your smile is so radiant! You know what would make your day better if you let me suck–”. In the end though it really doesn’t matter because their main goal in life is to forever worship your being whether you like it or not.

[animeyanderelover]

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional mindset, stalking, manipulation, blackmailing, isolation, abduction, femalre reader

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

I love you but I can't be with you

Fushiguro Toji

🪱​You've been warned of Fushiguro Toji from his close acquaintance Shiu, your meeting with the agent unavoidable as soon as the assassin starts hanging out around you increasingly. Shiu is honest and you appreciate that even though what he informs you about hurts you a bit. Are you suprised though? Not really. It's always been obvious from observing the huge man that his life isn't exactly normal. It's just a shame that you had to fall in love with him of all people as you already know that you can't have a relationship with a man who sleeps with women only to leave them as soon as he has their money and who has a broke and irregular lifestyle you don't want to be part of. That is why you reject him when you find yourself in a situation where Toji makes his interest in you apparent even if your heart is beating out of your chest. You at least explain yourself honestly though as you confess that you can't see yourself in a relationship with him and the way he is currently living his life.

🪱​Nothing would hold him back from simply abducting you, taking you for his own desires. He's thrown away the concept of morality with the death of his wife after all, doesn't care if people think of him as the scum on earth. It's... different with you though. A feeling that is neither normal love nor only selfish desire has crawled into his heart and nested itself inside like a parasite. He knows you have feelings for him. His senses have heightened to the point where he can smell and hear things that no other human could sense. He picks up on that little heartbeat of yours beating loudly inside your chest when he is around, senses the heat of your cheeks when he gets too close to you. You don't fear him nor do you despise him, you love him yet it is his own way of living and his bad reputation and gambling addiction that stops you from allowing you to give in to your feelings. Perhaps it is that knowledge that has him considering to give it one, but only one, try to woo you the normal way and to see if he is capable of more than what he has reduced himself to after his wife's death.

🪱​All of a sudden he drops everything bad. He stops gambling, he saves the money, buys an actual house, starts caring more for Megumi who you often babysit and dresses up in better clothes. Even Shiu is surprised by the way Toji suddenly flipped his life around but the man has also known him long enough to realise that those feelings still differ from what Toji felt for his wife. He's willing to be a better lover for you but not willing to be anything more. He keeps secrets from you, never tells you what his true jobs entail and how he earns the money he willingly pours into you nor does he let you know about the presence of curses. The things you do not know can't scare you and hurt your relationship with him after all and as long as you are in his protection you may never need to find out after all. Is he a better person thanks to you? Yes and no. He's content, happy for the first time in years because of your presence in his life but he only is a better man when around you. He still murders children, woman and men alike to earn his money, hunts down everyone who poses a threat to you and gets rid of anyone else who may have an interest in you. You're going to be safe and loved, everyone else is a free game.

Doctor Shamal

🩺​It is no surprise that you don't trust Shamal with your heart that foolishly fell for him even though you knew that he was a certified womanizer who loves every woman he lays eyes upon. Yet you couldn't stop your traitorous heart when his attention landed on you. As sappy and silly as Shamal is and as clingy and touchy as he acts, you have seen that he hides more behind that goofy facade of his. His knowledge is vast and he is quite educated and from the stories he has shared with you you know that he is a man who has travelled all over the world and has seen things that you can only dream of seeing with your own days some day if you have the money. The doctor showers you in attention, touches and compliments yet you wonder how long it will take him to find his new love interest so you decide that you should end things before you get your heart broken during a dinner he invited you too, dressing up in a nice suit and sending you expensive clothes to wear as well.

🩺​As blind as this love might have made him, Shamal knows that his reputation with women in the past may have made him appear in not the best light in your eyes but the rejection you courtly tell him still breaks his poor heart on that night. No words and promises seem to convince you on that night enough to give him a chance as you almost have to run away from him as he persistently chases after you as you leave, sensing that you have broken the romantic atmosphere with your rejection. You're mistaken if you think that your rejection would stop Shamal though. He is far from giving up actually, all the more determined to win you over and prove you wrong. He may have had his unsavoury habits in the past but now he is a man truly in love and adamant to prove to you that he has changed for the better to be a devoted lover to you. Old habits of his unfortunately do not disappear in the least although there is one major change. His creepy behavior that he previously directed to multiple women is now solely focused on you.

🩺​It is only the fact that you love him that stops you from calling the police as you forgive his behavior even though to any other person he classifies as a stalker. He follows you around every day and sings you his promises of love, constantly appears in front of your door and sends you constantly gifts all in hopes of winning you over. He is willing to do anything to help you see that he only loves you and if you want proof of his burning passion for you you only have to tell him what you want and he will give it to you. He may use some underhanded methods when he realises that he isn't getting anywhere with his attempts, might send his mosquitoes out to infect someone close to you only to sweep in as your night in shining armour who cures the patient back to health only to then bask in your attention and gratitude. Sure, it isn't very chivalrous to use other people to win you over but he isn't harming anyone fatally in the end and nurses everyone back to health. There are people much worse than him in the Mafia, you know?

Jae-Ha

💚​Jae-Ha is infamous for his playboy attitude, appreciative of the beauty around him and even going as far as chasing everyone he believes to be beautiful. He may be a tad bit perverted but he does it with such confidence that it's almost attractive again. No one could blame you for falling in love with him as he is handsome, confident and despite his playboyish and perverted tendencies at the end of the day still highly charming and treats women with kindness and respect. Still, you have known him long enough and heard from the other people he travels with enough to know that he is probably not what you are looking for in a partner. As flattering and charming as he is as soon as he lays his eyes on you, you know that you are only one of many to have received such sweet words and his attention. His confession one day when the both of you are alone takes you by surprise as he asks of you to come with him, his hand stretched out and his green eyes looking at you.

💚​He has been told off before by some women in his life due to his advances but he has always made the effort to respect their wishes. Your rejection is different though. It hurts him deep inside his heart yet he swallows all the pain down and smooths his face to hide any flicker of heartbreak as he asks you why you don't want to be with him. You're slightly anxious as you tell him about what you have seen yourself and what you have been told about his flirty and playboyish behavior and he can just feel the anger building up inside of him. He asks you who it is that told you about all of this and has to suppress his ire from showing too much as he clenches his jaw when you carefully admit that you had a talk with Ki-ja who told you about his tendencies to chase after everything he perceives as beautiful. The same night he gets into a fight with the white dragon that almost escalates into a physical fight if it wouldn't have been for Yona. Reluctantly he stops but his anger is still very much burning inside of him as he warns Ki-ja as well as everyone else to never put any wrong ideas in your head again.

💚​He's far from discouraged from your rejection though. Jae-Ha is after all persistent and confident, downright bold with his advances as he continues to spend his time with you. He knows that he can't force you into a relationship with him. His group would catch on if he were to do it and Gi-Gan raised him better than this. As a rather possessive individual though the very least he has to do to be somewhat at ease is to see it through that you don't fall for anyone else and that no one dares to claim you for themselves. Perhaps it is a tad bit cruel as he keeps on tugging at your heartstrings even after you have rejected him to secure that you don't erase him from your heart, not allowing you to move on from him all whilst threatening and scaring away anyone who he senses considers trying their chances with you. It's alright. You don't have to accept him instantly but if you even think that he would just let you move on from him you are sorely mistaken. One day he will have you all for himself and until that day comes he will see it through that no one else can have you.

Suoh Tamaki

🌹​You're not the first one in love with Tamaki from all the clients in the host club as he is widely popular in the school and you know that you aren't the last one either. Perhaps if he would have realised his feelings sooner you would have accepted his confession but unfortunately Tamaki remained oblivious for too long, denying his love for you so that he could keep his Host Club running and continue pleasing the female guests. By the time he finally acknowledges his feelings and the whole obsession comes crashing down on him you have resigned yourself to the fact that you probably wouldn't be happy due to his position and his role as the host. You've seen how much it means to him and have decided to not interfere. So when he goes down on one knee and offers you a red rose, confessing his feelings to you and asking you earnestly to be his you have a very bittersweet feeling brimming in your heart before you shake your head and softly reject him.

🌹​You leave his poor heart shattered and his impulsiveness gets the better of him as he grasps your arm as you attempt to leave, tears brimming in his eyes. He's incredibly stubborn, shakes his head when you ask of him to let you leave as he refues to let you go after your rejection. Kyoya is on that day your savior as he had a feeling that Tamaki would confess to you soon after having finally figured out your feelings and he helps you to separate the teary-eyed boy from you before dragging him away, reprimanding him for his unwarranted behavior just now whilst Tamaki kneels on the ground like a kicked puppy, desperately dealing with his freshly broken heart. The co-host doesn't give up though, far from it actually. He knows that you have loved him long before he even realised his own emotions for you and this fuels his delusional thoughts only more. Nothing is lost after all as it is only his own inability to recognise his love for you that has ruined his chances and he constantly beats himself up for it.

🌹​The truth is that he is more anxious than he would like to let others notice, his princely facade up as he attempts to woo you and win you over with the same act he constantly has all other guests swooning over him in the Host Club only to soon realise you don't fall for it as you know that this is merely an act he always puts on to please his clients. As soon as he has recognised that he is only pushing you away further though he drops this act and reveals his real self that he always shows outside of his Host Club. He's clingy, greedy for attention and throws a drama as soon as you pay attention to someone else and ignore him. At times his anxiety and impatience gets the better of him which means that he might corner you out of desperation. He loves you and he knows that you love him too so he's begging you to give him a chance. He knows that he's at fault for having ignored his own feelings for you but he promises that he'll treat you like royalty if you give him a chance.

Ikkyu

♠️​Ikkyu's own blooming obsession is something he is painfully aware of because how could he not? He's essentially entrapped, his own wish he made as a child something that has restricted him and robbed him of his freedom as he has his own fanclub obsessing over him and threatening everyone who dares to try to take him away from them. That is why he attemps to distance himself from you for your own protection, pushing his own feelings down all because he wants to protect you. Yet the yearning he does would put a poet to shame, blue eyes discreetly stealing glances at you and only lingering on you when he is wearing sunglasses, his gaze hidden from the people around him behind the darkened lenses. Just once... Just once does he want to tell you how he truly feels about you and maybe then will he be able to move on. He spends a few days meticulously planning everything before he secretly informs you, his heart threatening to burst when he finally has you all for himself for the first time and tells you what he has been feeling for you for a longer time now.

♠️​If you would have just acted the same way as everyone of his fangirls he would have been able to let you go yet you do something that sets him down a dark path. You confess your own feelings earnestly to him, his heart nearly stopping as he realises that you are genuine and not blinded by the same obsessive adoration as other girls but you instantly crush his heart moments later as you prove to be very self-aware. You know about Rika and his fanclub, do not wish to bring yourself into danger before admitting that you also aren't too sure about him. He's charming and a playboy, someone you do not want to commit to and whilst you do realise that this is probably a facade he has to keep up to keep his fangirls on a leash you wish you could see the real him but know that his status probably won't allow that. All you would have needed to do was be just another fangirl or just simply reject him and he could have moved on yet you defy all of his previous encounters with other girls. Ikki realises on that day that he can't allow himself to let you go, opening his heart as he willingly allows his obsession to fully take root.

♠️​He leaves you alone after that day though and initially you believe that he respects your decision. The few times you two do interact there seems to be nothing off with him which only lures you into a sense of false security. You see him spending more time with Rika and his fangirls again and there is a bittersweet ache in your heart as you acknowledge that everything is back to how it was. At least until you receive news one day that Rika got into a terrible accident and is hospitalised, the whole fanclub in a disarray as Rika is the president. You didn't necessarily like her but what happened to her is still quite shocking. You didn't expect Ikkyu to look as affected as he does and you guess that even though Rika must have given him lots of trouble she still was someone he knew quite well. He seeks out comfort in you, keeps you close and you foolishly comply as you believe that he needs the company and the comfort, missing the way he smirks slightly when you hug him or the way his blue eyes trail over you as soon as you turn your head away from him.

[lazycats-stuff]

I wanted to ask for a Batbro who is the son of Bruce and Catwoman, he is the youngest in the family and very similar to Selina, he has the same tastes as his mother, he helps her with robberies, but when Selina is arrested by Batman, the family tries to convince younger brother that stealing is wrong

Also, I had @eliz36545 request this and I also have exact same request, but with the word arrested replaced by trapped, so I'll just treat them as a same request and delete them from my inbox so I can better manage the number of requests.

Also, there is a photo that @eliz36545 put in her ask, almost like a look of how (Y/N) is supposed to look. Also, no gif in this one.

Bruce knew that one night stand with Selina was a bad idea. She couldn't let go of her Catwoman persona, not to mention, she steals and while it was for somewhat noble causes, Bruce couldn't look over it. And then... Years later, Bruce finds out he has a kid. With Selina. Bruce clearly has a type. Lethal. Brunettes. And they are in illegal activities.

No wonder why his children tease him all the time about it. And no wonder why one is a little bit nuts. No words needed for who that one is. Either way, Bruce took responsibility for (Y/N), putting his name on (Y/N)'s birth certificate, even offering to give the boy his last name.

Selina declined the last name offer, but didn't mind the fact that Bruce put his name on the birth certificate. However, (Y/N) spent most of his time with his mother. In another words, he lived with his mother, but visited Bruce whenever he could. Bruce, of course, didn't mind it. Not in the slightest.

The boys accepted (Y/N), taking their time to get close with their brother. Damian, however, was skeptical. (Y/N) was really similar to his mother. In both character and profession. He helps Selina out in her robberies, Selina making sure that (Y/N) has skills that will benefit him in life.

While she knew that involving (Y/N) in their world isn't particularly ideal, she knew that those skills would benefit him. Knowing that the world is cruel and cold, that no one would really extend a hand if you don't have connections. That was simply the reality in this world. Connections help you. Knowledge is at a second place at this point in time.

Bruce didn't want to undermine Selina's raising, since (Y/N) was a polite child, not entitled despite being his son. However, he didn't want (Y/N) to think that stealing is good. Sure, it may be from the rich who have more than enough and can spare a few expensive things, but he can't steal either way. It's illegal.

One way or another, it's illegal.

Despite stealing from people who have it all. And can buy more of those things. But still, the point still stands. Bruce couldn't stop it since he wasn't a primary custodian.

Another thing that makes Bruce is conflicted about is the Batman and Catwoman personas. Two parents on the opposite side of the spectrum, law and moral one at least. Bruce being Batman, he was the person who kept law and order in Gotham. In places where the police couldn't go to or simply choose to ignore.

Either way, Bruce and Selina had their cat and mouse game for a long time, even before any of the boys came into the picture. Selina always eluded him, like an enigma almost. For years, it was something... That Bruce actually enjoyed.

It was always funny to banter with her and Selina enjoyed it too. However, Bruce knows that this can't go on forever. And the fact that (Y/N) was involved in the robberies... Despite the fact that he allowed it to happen. It... It wasn't good.

Bruce finally did it. He finally managed to arrest Selina after many years of their cat and mouse game... While Bruce was happy to put a criminal behind bars, he knew that Selina wasn't a typical criminal that you can find in Gotham City. But the law is the law. And Bruce needed to follow it.

Was it a difficult decision to put the mother of his child behind bars? Oh yeah. Was it even more difficult to find (Y/N) ever since then? Yup. It seems that Selina taught (Y/N) how to be elusive. Which was not fun. Bruce searched the city high and low for his boy, with the help of his other sons too.

It was not an easy job, but they managed to narrow down the area where (Y/N) was. And they have decided to spread out, just to make sure that they had a bigger chance to find him. Bruce was still dealing with an aftermath of Selina in jail and so he is not able to even go after his own son.

Jason was the first one to find him, making sure to let his other brother know through comms. He made his way to (Y/N), who was looking for something in his backpack.

" There you are. We've been looking for you. " Jason said, making (Y/N) up from being scared. Almost like a cat being scared. Almost comical.

" Yeah, right. " (Y/N) said sarcastically and Jason noticed the anger in his voice. Of course, the anger was justified since their father put his mother in jail. Bruce arrested Selina and well, if there is anything that might break a relationship, putting the mother of your son in prison is that one thing.

" It was long time coming. Selina knew that the day where she was caught would come. Bruce knew it too. " Jason explained before (Y/N) started to run, sliding through a window with ease.

Jason simply turned the comms back on. " Tim, he is coming your way. "

Jason has decided that he doesn't want the aggravation tonight. As much as he loved his brother, he didn't want to deal with this now. Too emotional and far too reckless.

Tim was on his way as (Y/N) was moving quickly through the area. Well, specifically the building where Tim jumped down in front of (Y/N), who frowned yet again.

" Rehearsed much? " (Y/N) snapped back, making Tim chuckle.

" I know, it seems like we rehearsed it. The truth of the matter is that we planned it. We know you are mad. But the law is the law. Even though rigged in the favor of others. " Tim said and (Y/N) was still having none of it.

" Dick, get ready. He seems pretty pissed as it is, so proceed with caution. " Tim said into the comms, crossing his arms afterwards. He knew that (Y/N) was mad and that it was the product of helping his mother in her heists.

And product of Bruce not stopping that sooner.

Dick jumped next to (Y/N), making him jump away, clutching at his chest. Dick chuckled, seeing a scaredy cat as he was, after all Selina's son.

" Why are you making this more difficult than it needs to be? " Dick asked. " You know that was going to happen soon enough. Selina knew it too and Bruce knew it too. So please. Doing heists all of your life, on the run from everyone all of your life. That is no way to live. " Dick explained and (Y/N) huffed.

" Don't run. I'm not in the mood to chase you. " Dick said and (Y/N) ran again. Dick sighed as he informed Damian of the situation.

" Just try to get him to calm down and back to the manor. God knows when B will be back. "

Damian nodded as he listened and observed the environment, looking for the signs of (Y/N) coming up somewhere within his eye sight.

He jumped down once he saw (Y/N) running. Of course, he timed his jump so that he jumps in front of him, making him stop dead in his tracks.

" You too? " (Y/N) sighed out and Damian crossed his arms.

" Yes, me too, you dumbo. You can't run from us. You need to see that living life on the run is not a good way to live. I would know that. I lived a life by the motto of kill or be killed. And it's wrong to steal in general, even from the rich who have it all. So please, come with us to the manor. " Damian tried and (Y/N) sighed.

" So come on, follow me. Lets go home. You'll be happier with us. "

[earthstellar]

One thing that I really liked in IDW 2 was the concept of Going Immersant.

Given the immensely long average lifespan of Cybertronians, it makes sense:

If nothing kills you, and you live long enough to have experienced all of what you feel you reasonably can in this lifetime, and you feel content with the life that you have had, and it seems time to retire--

--Why not return your knowledge and the entity of your self to the core of your planet, where your energy and your components can be reused and your memories and knowledge can be subsumed into the greater whole?

Plug in with the stray cables that stick out of the cavernous expanses deep beneath the surface of Cybertron, let yourself get situated, and allow yourself to daydream as the crystals grow around you and gradually consume you. It is not painful. It is a process of sharing.

Each daydream then enters the great memory bank of Primus, at the heart of the world, the core of life itself for your species. Your experiences become part of the eternal record of experienced Cybertronian life. You join your God himself, frame and processor, as you combine with him within the physical form of your planet.

Primus created you, and as you are subsumed into the crystalline forms that surround you, you will go on to sustain Primus in some way. An unending cycle.

Perhaps you feel something, leeching up from deep within the crystal mass, some unique energy meeting you halfway, the cables that snake their way into your ports like vines carrying some ancient data, older than yourself, older than the Rust Sea, older than the Hydrax Plateau, older than the Titans.

Maybe you cannot decipher it, yet. But it comforts you. It reminds you that you are not alone, after your visitors have gone. Where there is digital noise, there is something to produce it. You will meet it soon--

--After countless years of a peaceful rest, knowing that at the end of your endlessly long existence, your life will go on to benefit others.

And for as long as you are able, you still remain present, as well. Just not above, on the surface. For some time, others can still come and visit, speak with you, consult with you-- Although as your memory banks purge into the greater whole, you begin to falter in this waking realm.

And that is OK; To rejoin with Primus and re-enter the Well of All Sparks as an ancient elder, a repository of experience and wisdom, is to become a teacher to all. Even in peaceful, gradual death-- And even then, your energy and materials and thoughts remain somewhere, deep within the planet.

Returned. Recycled.

Eternal, in some shape or form.

It's just a really beautiful concept.

Without any natural death, Cybertronians have the option to simply return to Primus, return to the core of the planet, in a half-waking state.

At peace, gracefully and with intent.

All of what they have experienced and all that they are, all of their memories and feelings, all of the metals and compounds that make up their frame and armour and protoform, all of it can be taken in and absorbed.

The option is there, to emerge once more.

But for most, this is the final calling.

To go immersant is to enter peace, to become a living state of meditation until the very end for you as an individual. To have full agency over how you pass on, to make the decision and consciously know. To be happy with that. To relax into your fate, as you see fit.

To make the decision to be recycled, to contribute all that you are, to return your energy to the crystalline matter that fuels your world and your people and your God, who in turn fuelled you and will thus go on to fuel all those subsequently churned out by the Well.

To merge with your living planet on an atomic level, on an esoteric level.

I wonder if the fully immersant aren't dead in the traditional sense. Perhaps they are offline, to those in this world. Perhaps their frame is vacated as their data is absorbed. But that data is not lost, necessarily.

It's just a very beautiful end of life option for Cybertronians, and I do hope the concept is revisited in some form in the future.

[acid-ixx]

Hi! I had a question about batfam x neglected! reader. Will it have a happy ending? Love your work! <3

— masterlist !

hello anon !! now, as much as i love happy endings, and as far as my plans go since ive mostly written out outlines for simply the newer chapters but not much for endings, i would say that it most definitely wouldn't be a happy ending/s in terms of being kidnapped back into the manor (before your boyfriend whisks you away), or (even if i love him a lot) getting together with conner—

all because you've long since given up on your family, so trying to love a newer version of them that coddles you all the time, never having any moment of privacy, being given physical affection that you never quite know how to reciprocate or receive; you're bound to be overwhelmed. sure, you've got what child-you always wanted, always desired, but it's so hard finding an inkling of an answer as to why now did they decide to just love you?

is it because you've matured, or do they only like a version of you that used to chase after them, and now they miss that integral part of your life? is it out of sheer guilt of their neglect— or have they always loved you from the start, just never knowing that they did?

either way, breakdowns are a common factor of your life if you were ever kidnapped. you'll always be held, even if you push them away. always peppered with kisses, or hands that linger on your cheeks and the expanse of your back throughout the shivers of fear that someday they might just snap at you for always fighting back. you're not forced to play the fantasy that everything is normal, that your past traumas were never existent—

bruce ensures you get proper therapy sessions alone (though cameras are always plastered in whichever room you may be) and with the family, you can take your time, that is only one freedom they allow you to have; but he always wishes that you'll soon find joy in the way they care for you; no matter how many years it would take, no matter if you fight back with your nails digging deep into their skin or a hidden weapon ready to drag out a fight you know you'd never win.

and it doesn't help the fact that you feared all of them as much as you loved them back in the past, at the knowledge that they're vigilantes, of their powers and abilities that could easily snap necks or break bones. even if you learn to adjust, their strength will always stay a primordial fear of yours— especially if it were jason's finger that slowly tighten overtime without his knowledge whenever he finds himself cuddling you in the soft, bruce's arms that stay dormant on your back, acting as both your support and cage every time he leads you to another, or damian who could turn anything he holds into a weapon used against anyone who threatens his time with his older sibling, even duke's metahuman ability warrants more panic attacks than fascination on your part, no matter how gentle and approachable he portrays himself to be in front of you.

you know it in yourself that you'll truly never get used to whatever love they throw your way, no matter how little of it was given in the past, or how overwhelming overflowing it is in the near future. it's just who you are, a child of bruce who doesn't truly comprehend their feelings.

and if you ever do adjust, if even possible, who's to say it will get rid of the overbearing sense of doom that unsheathes itself stubbornly upon your beating chest, whispering in every crevice of your mind the possibility that their affections are all a farce; that they'll soon lose interest in you the moment you reciprocate.

as for conner, your ending with him might be considered a happy one, if it means you're completely and perfectly willing to live an isolated life with the man of your dreams. i mean, you've already been neglected and left alone all by yourself for more than a decade— is conner leaving you for just a few minutes or, at most, an hour, speeding through different places to restock your pantry in a home in the middle of nowhere going to affect you that much?

well, the answer is... yes.

once you complied that, yes, you're perfectly fine relying on your man for your wants and needs, your desire for physical affection and even your bodily desires— it quite frankly means you've agreed to become one with him, your life will be full of memories of just you and conner, all alone with nowhere to escape, no place to hide; exposing all the deepest parts of yourself for a man who've you met in a bar.

at first, it would all go well. he's always loving you, nothing about that will change; always basking you in gifts, lavishing your home into various decorations he knows you'd love, holding you whenever you're down or need a shoulder to cry on; that's the reason why you even wanted to be with him in the first place. but what will change is your independence, and the foundations that you built based upon boundaries, will crumble.

there will be no secrets to be kept, no emotions hidden. you can journal, still, and be left alone to your whims but you know that conner will always read your entries, or worship your art right after. eating breakfast, bathing, picking and wearing clothes; all your routine life will be done with him. everything about your relationship focuses purely on codependency, on feelings so viscerally raw and pure to the point you both destroy each other in indulging your wants.

your relationship with conner will soon turn into your addiction on him for every single decision, every moment spent together; every year, months, hours, minute, seconds of your days all dictated into the man you're going to spend the rest of your life with.

even arguments, either small or huge, will always lead to you finding comfort in the arms of the person you fought against. you've nothing but him, he's nothing without you. even fights will dissolve just as quickly because you're too scared that he'll leave you, and conner hates it when you look at him with the same look you display whenever you think of your family.

at least for conner, though, you'd be living a life of raw, undulating pleasure. he'll indulge in you, of course he'd do for his lovely little (soon-to-be) spouse, but you gotta remember that "you're safer with me. okay, baby?" that translates that contact with any other human is rarer than finding specks of gold in a river, and anyone outside of your home life is an immediate threat to conner, who shields your exposure to the public, who kisses and wipes away your tears whenever you'd break down after a fight, who'll always be right behind you when you least expect it.

just like how it's always should've been.

i'm back to answering asks, so feel free to send in some conspiracy theories or whatever guys. it's been quite some time that i did and i miss doing so, so expect more of these especially for my main series and occasionally for loving family, unpalatable desire 😭

anyways, the simple answer for this one is: choose your poison. i'm not implying that these two are the only endings. i have so many paths i want to take and i haven't even introduced an integral character yet to the plot. conner is one of them, but there's another and anyone can guess who it is; but i'm sure barely anyone would get it right unless i drop a hint hehe.

— back to the topic, which one would any of you pick? loved by too many, or loved too much by one 'til it destroys you? or do you choose the secret option and move to a country and change your entire identity and hope to god that nobody else would fall in love with you? i think the last option is most realistic but conner kent is also tempting so...

[shaisuki]

CIGARETTE SMOKE

|| the third entry for the series “𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐖𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄”

content warnings ─── yandere themes, implied kidnapping, hints of smut, jealousy.

is it bad that you want to take someone just to protect them from this world? aki regretted but doesn't feel bad about it.

we devil hunters don't have the long life to live.

there's a certain annoyance that has been creeping up on me since you joined the division. you clearly didn't belong here and sometimes i would ask myself why are you here? why are you wasting your life in this hellhole for no reason. you're alive. happy. you aren't here for revenge. to avenge your loved ones from the devils. you have no purpose here. you don't belong here.

however it's not my place to dictate someone's choice of being here but you infuriate me to no end that i wished for your demise. i didn't understand why i feel this way towards you. it doesn't make sense. you were a nobody to mine. not the one i should care for but sometimes i can't take my eyes off you.

the gnawing feeling of seeing you so friendly and close to someone like denji makes my blood boil and it's easy to ignore it but i can't not when you're starting to grow on me.

what casual moments between us, i have cherished it. not realizing what effect it could have on me. i started to see you on my dreams. started to crave your presence that i can no longer breath and it hurts me so much that i have started to feel this way to you more than i would like to admit.

then we started to lay on the same bed. where can i hear you breath. feel you under my fingertips. the softness and warmth you provided for simply existing. how it provided the intimacy of comfort and security. drown in the depths of the pools of your eyes that i can no longer swim and sink in to you.

is this what it feels to fall for someone who is close but is distant. how could it be when you're the one who initiated it. how cruel are you but i can't blame you. we simply comforted each other with our bodies and it's my fault that i let myself feel what i wanted to feel.

this would be our last night together. allow me to cherish you. let me feel you. let me sink my teeth unto your skin that you will feel me for days.

the gasps and moans that left your lips breathlessly is the air i breath. say my name the way i like it. say my name as i touch you in places where it brought you pleasure. the stretch marks and scars decorating your skin that i have memorized. the curves and every swell of your body where i have kissed and worshipped. allow me. allow me. allow me. allow me to savor all of it. you won't deprive me of it. i know of it since you're helplessly under me.

that's right. that's how things should be. you and me. nothing else in this world that can stop us. not even the devils.

why won't you be mine?

the thought occured to me. why? we have shared our thoughts. the touch that i came to miss. the kisses that i denied at first and learned to crave. i have touched you. we've exchanged sweet nothings. the string of salivas connecting our lips. my lips on yours and my spent deep inside you. painting your walls white as you came around me. isn't it enough that we belong to each other. you're mine. you're mine. you're mine. you are mine.

so forgive me. forgive me that the last thing you will ever see is the smoke coming from my cigarette as i lay claim on you. protecting you from this cruel world that took the people i loved and i won't let it happen to you. i don't understand myself why i am asking for your forgiveness when i know you won't forgive but it won't hurt to ask. you're too kind and that was your mistake for having me. for letting me in your world that I claimed to be mine.

my thoughts are muddled and the only thing that keeps me sane of my reality is the light coming from the end of my cigarette and your warm body resting beside me. warm. it is a good thing. you're still alive and you'll wake up with me beside you. that's better. is all i can think as i watch my cigarette smoke disappear in the thin air like you were.

[fandomnerd9602]

Taking the House

Rhaenyra x Witcher!Reader

For @deafeningsharkslimeempath

The mere sight of your old friend made your heart flutter and beat faster. Some would’ve thought it strange: a witcher left lovestruck. But Rhaenyra always had that effect. The love you get for her only grew in the years that you had been away.

She glided up to you, her eyes showing a mix of adoration and betrayal. “You’re back” she whispered under her breath.

“I am” you replied in a gruff voice.

“Your return is quite unexpected,” your father Otto Hightower exposits. “Most thought you dead.”

“And yet here I am. And there my younger sister stands: wife to an elderly man”

“You will treat your king with—“ Otto tries to say and yet Viserys surprisingly cuts him off.

“Let the man speak his mind.” The elderly king takes a deep breath. “It is true. I have taken Alicent for a bride. You are free to judge me within the walls of this room

“I carry no ill will, my king,” you stated, “simply disappointment”

Alicent walks up to you, carrying her newborn, “this is Aemond. Your nephew”

The young Targeryan infant looked up at you in amazement. The little baby cooed and smiled at you.

“He carries your soul” you put on a fake smile for your sister. So young and yet she had to bear the pain of childbirth.

“Witcher (Y/N)” King Viserys clears his throat, “the kingdom is in your debt, please stay here as long as you see fit”

“My king” you bow. And with that you turned and leave.

Rhaenyra intercepts you mere feet from the throne room. She grabs your arm and pulls you to her. She whispers in your ear, “my chambers. Nightfall.”

And with that she turns and leaves. A part of you couldn’t help but smile.

Otto ran out after you. You led him into the open courtyard, if there was anything your father hated it was causing a scene.

“I thought you dead” he said thru gritted teeth.

“And I thought you a decent man,” you retorted. “But we were both wrong”

“You could been seated on that throne now and instead I had to whore out your sister”

You drew out your dagger and pressed it to his throat. “You had to do nothing! My sister has known more pain in her short years than you will ever know.”

You took the dagger away from your father’s throat. “I made my choice,” you continued, “and you have to live with yours, father”

And with that you turn and walked away. You were not his tool. You were your own man.

Daemon found you among the dragon stables. “Wow. Quite the sight that was. You really shook the council to its core.”

“Why did you bring me here, Daemon?”

“Simple. I wish for my niece to be happy.” He gives you a wink. “You saved my life. The least I can do for you is ensure rha you have a happy one.”

“Explain”

“You didn’t want wine or women or wealth like most witchers. And I remember the way you would look at Rhaenyra. She still carries the torch for you.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder, “my advice is this - life has too many hardships, allow yourself a little joy”

And with that he turned and went on his way.

Later that evening you made your way to Rhaenyra’s chambers, dodging guards and night watchmen to ensure that no one knew.

Rhaenyra quickly pulled you into her chamber after three knocks at her door. She hugged you tight and then slugged you in your arm.

“Uhh…ouch” you smirked.

“Why did you leave?” Was her only question. “Tell me the truth”

“I have nothing but the truth left. My father wished to use me as a chess piece.” You explain. “He wanted me to marry you and take the throne from you. And I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Would it have been so wrong? To have you by my side?!” Rhaenyra stresses as she paces her chamber floor. “You were my best friend. Surely even if you did not love me, we could’ve made it work”

“I would not be some tool for my father” you retorted. “I love you too much to allow that. I had no idea he would use Alicent in such a-“

“You said you love me,” she interrupted you.

“What?”

“You said love me. In the present tense. You could have said you loved me too much to allow that.”

Rhaenyra slowly walks up to you. “Do you? Do you love me?”

Your cat like eyes could only look into her soft gentle eyes. “I never stopped loving you, Rhaenyra. I never slept with another. This sword and my heart were always pledged to you”

“Then take me” she gently ordered you. Her tone was commanding yet so loving,“Everything I am, I want it to be yours”

“I’ve only ever wanted to be yours” you replied. You take her face gently in your hands and kiss her tenderly.

A little moan escapes her lips. Her eyes become alight with lust and passion. She wraps her arms around your neck and jumps up, wrapping her legs around your waist.

You kiss her once, twice, peeling off layers of clothing as the two of you make your way to her royal bed. She pulls her hair down, letting the white trails of hair flow gracefully over her shoulders.

You lay her gently on the bed, kissing her neck, “if tonight is all we have, then so be it” she whines.

“I promise you,” you purr in her ear, “we’ll have more than just tonight, my Rhae”

You and Rhaenyra made love into the early morning hours. Time apart faded away. You held her bare form against your chest, soothing her very soul.

“I suppose what they say about witchers is quite true” she smirks. “You truly are amazing in all your splendor. That broadsword of yours…” she laughs

“I will only be yours. Til my last breath” you whispered against her hairline. You kiss her head and rub her back reassuringly.

“But you’re immortal”

“I never took that step.” You shrug. “I’ll hunt monsters, save kingdoms but I could never live an eternity without you”

“You’re not immortal…does that mean that someday you and I can have…”

“The price of immortality is becoming sterile” you answer her silent question. “Obviously that was a step too far.”

“I want two.” She answered back with a giggle. You couldn’t help but smile.

THE END

[suikung]

hi I can request to Uchiha Shisui Yandere the itachi I really loved.

Au in which Shisui lived and no Uchiha massacre. I’m so sorry idk why this one ran so long😅

Yan Shisui HCs

It was an arranged marriage between Shisui and you, planned by the Uchiha elders to grow the clan. Something out of the blue, Shisui and you were both 18. And your family couldn’t be happier you’d be married off to an Uchiha prodigy. There was no resistance from you, you had liked Shisui, what girl in the clan didn’t? Shisui however couldn’t be more disinterested, he never vocalized it but you could tell he always saw it as a marriage of benefit. A straight face when the elders announced the marriage to both your families. A straight face when you both were allowed supervised time together a few weeks before the wedding. A straight face the entirety of your ceremony. It was painful to not see a smile from your soon to be husband, not even on your wedding day. However the worst was the come on the night after your wedding. The consummation of your marriage was lack luster, he simply came to you as if he was instructed a mission and soon left after it had been done. From that night you both had slept in separate rooms.

You didn’t give up though, you wanted this to work out, more for your sake than his. It drove you crazy to live with a stranger you legally called your husband. And so you began to cook dinner for the both of you, waiting till he got home to eat together. At first it was silent between the both of you, gradually you would add in small questions. “How was the mission?” And such. He kept his responses short and quick, a simple “Good” or “Tiresome” when he wanted to excuse himself from the table. It didn’t bother you, he of course wouldn’t open up to you right away, so you continued with your antics. You packed Shisui food when he went on day long missions, started him baths when he got home, even suggested you both sleep in one room, which he declined.

You had been so caught up in your plan to sweeten your married life with Shisui you didn’t realize you were late. It had been two months since your wedding, two months since the consummation. So to confirm your suspicions you went to a village elder to see if you were pregnant.

“My dear, I sense a new chakra within you. Congratulations you are with child.” You couldn’t hold your tears of joy from the news, hand over your stomach you couldn’t imagine what the future might hold with this child. And so you went, speed walking to your home. A smile spread across your face, perhaps this was it. Shisui would come around now that you were carrying his baby. Quickly finishing up dinner when you arrived, it was almost time for Shisui to arrive. Waiting at the table, your head snapped to the sound of the door opening. Shisui slowly pulled out the chair and sat, “Thank you for the food.” He mumbled quietly before you both began eating. It had been a few minutes of silence, it was eating you up to hold the news.

“I went to see one of the elders today, and have returned with news” You spoke up, it peaked his interest, this was different from your usual dinner talks. “Well how’d it go?” Putting his fork down, eyes now shifting from the plate to you. Your hand settled on your stomach, taking a breath before speaking. “We are going to be parents”, your smile beaming at Shisui yet he seemed unmoved at your news. “Oh. That’s great, take it easy from now on. Well goodnight.” Voice monotone, yet it felt he spoke with anything but happiness. Left sitting alone at the table, your head dropped, tears began to flow from yours eyes. This was it you were done trying to be a good wife for him.

It had been 4 months now, your stomach has grown and you were visibly pregnant. You had hired new help, everything you had now done for Shisui was done by them. You didn’t even wait for him to eat dinner. And he felt it. The absence of someone who cared about him. Yet it didn’t bother him, he continued to see this marriage as one to benefit the clan. However as the nights went on, as the dinners he ate alone continued, he couldn’t help in missing your small talk. He wondered how you were feeling, perhaps the baby was giving you a hard time. He wasn’t heartless, and despite his feelings for you, you were the mother to his baby. So for the sake of the baby he’d turn things around.

It was early morning at the market, you continued buying the food for the household. It allowed you time to just wander about, getting some exercise for the baby. On this day Shisui had no missions assigned to him, so he suggested he help you carry the food. It took you aback, you declined but he insisted you shouldn’t be carrying much after all you were 5 months pregnant. Without much discussion he followed you out the door.

It was your usual stop along the route to the fruit stall, the young man who ran it always kind to you. “(Y/n)! I’m glad to see you back, it’s been a while.” A small frown tugged his lips. Shisui stood a few steps behind you, listening it. “Good morning Toma. I had to skip last weeks run here, it wasn’t exactly the best week with the baby. They were feeling a bit fussy and had me mostly lying down, but here we are how.” You both continued to chat as you picked fruits, Toma bagging them for you. “You know, you have that glow everyone talks about with pregnancy. The one that just makes people want to look and smile at you.” Maybe it was that he knew you always came alone to the market but his comment surprised you. Shisui’s eyes bore into your head, waiting to see what you would say. His fists clenched on his side, why would someone dare to speak to someone’s wife like that, especially his. You could only laugh it off, quickly paying for the fruit and handing it to Shisui.

And so as you continued through the market, he couldn’t help but notice now all the eyes that kept lingering on you, the greetings people would throw your way, and the smiles you gave back to them. You didn’t smile at him like that anymore, he felt something bubble within him. From that day on, he always lingered around you, he requested less missions to be with you more. He went to the market now for you, couldn’t let you continue to, see other men, possibly get hurt. Slowly he began to prohibit small things, a walk around the Uchiha compound no longer allowed. The clan members noticing your absence, but no one suspected much as you arriving to your due date at 8 months pregnant. Even at the birth of your child, Shisui restricted who would be allowed in the room with you and as expected he stood over them all, worried they weren’t taking adequate care of his wife. But all worries washed away when he heard the cry of the baby, a son. Everyone left the room and all Shisui could do was hold his son with excitement. And for the first time in your marriage he kissed you, a passionate kiss.

You had hoped his controlling actions would end once your son was born, but how wrong you were. They worsened. He now controlled almost everything in your life, even when you were allowed to see your son. However he knew he couldn’t keep you inside forever, people would begin to arouse rumors, so when you were allowed outside it was always accompanied by his closet friend, Itachi. Everyone avoided you, the people who once greeted you with such warm smiles never looked in your direction again. What you didn’t know is Shisui would have Itachi do the dirty work behind the scenes, threatening every man he once saw staring you down.

What you now lived was a life of isolation even with Shisui’s suffocating presence.

SFW

Shisui is such a sweetheart all the time. He loved to spend every waking moment with you, especially after your son was born. During the night there would be no escaping his tight grip on you. He could only sleep peacefully when he was almost underneath your skin. He is exceptionally intuitive, able to sense any change in your emotion and will be quick to act on it. He can’t have his beloved be sad or angry for too long, it didn’t look good on your beautiful face.

An amazing cook, on days he’s not on missions he will take over dinner.

Although he limits when you can see your son in fear he will steal all of your attention, he is a lovely family man. He will take the both of you out to dinners, but his favorite is a quiet dinner as a family and after to play with his son. A man who prefers kisses over anything, he enjoys pestering your face with them in any given moment. And when it’s one of those moods, he’s not shy to use tongue.

He will become severely depressed when you don’t show him affection back. Beating himself up constantly for taking so long to appreciate his wife. If he would’ve known he’d end up with you he’d marry you sooner, having you all to himself earlier.

NSFW

A gentle man. He loves to take his time with you exploring your body over and over again. Testing every possible point in your body that could bring you pleasure. His favorite point being your neck. He enjoys running his tongue up from your ear done to your collar bone, sucking and biting along his way. Just the perfect way to leave marks, visible ones.

Shisui is such an awkward man however when it comes to sex, despite him being a shinobi, he still gets shy during sex. His dirty talk is not a strong point, occasional laughter from his sad attempts to get you in the mood. This leads to quiet sex most of them, quiet meaning not talking, not being devoid of sounds. He is not shy in vocalizing his pleasure. You swear the entire compound can hear the two of you.

Shisui is not above mutual masturbation, he loves it. He walked in on you once pleasuring yourself, immediately cock in hand following your pace. No matter whether it’s sex or masturbation he prefers to finish on or in you.

His favorite possession is cowgirl, he loves being able to look up at you and have his hands free to roam your body, grope your ass or tits. His favorite being to play with your nipples, amplifying your pleasure and in return your pussy tenses around his cock. A high stamina as expected, multiple rounds will go down in one night especially after being away on missions. Expect him to not let you sleep at all.

[levenlike11]

nanami is a punctual man. he absolutely hates working overtime and wants to go home as soon as he can. nonetheless, he can make an exception for you.

on the days you need help finishing a long report or exercising an annoying curse, he doesn't mind his clock beeping, signaling work hours are done. he's willing to spend as many minutes as you need there so he can walk you back home.

it's cute how he always asks to stop by a specific bakery and buys the same type of bread everyday. when asked why he loves it so much, he simply shrugs and says 'it's always fresh and soft.' after making you taste it once, he always insists on buying one for you too if you like it. having something you both like makes him happy, allowing you to see the rare smile of him.

when he does smile, you know it's real. he shows great interest in every word that leaves your mouth and replies or shows approval in your sentences. he loves seeing you happy, having someone that you agree with makes you smile from ear to ear. he just wishes he could plant a soft kiss on your grinning mouth.

you're both aware that this, whatever's going on between the two of you is way beyond friendship but neither of you decide to comment on it or give it a name. this is comfortable as it is and you're scared of the danger a certified relationship would bring. he can't risk losing you, especially not because of him. he swore to protect you from any harm the second he first saw you, your delicate body. he knows you're powerful enough to protect yourself but in his eyes you're a little dainty fairy, something so fragile he could hurt you with a single touch.

that's why he's always so careful with you. he doesn't let anyone look at you the wrong way, let alone touch you. it was the reason he started walking you home, you live on his way so it's a win-win for him. he's afraid admitting his feelings will ruin what's between you two, so he simply goes on with his life, knowing you'd push him away unless you wanted him close to you too.

the day you can no longer stand satoru's teasing, you finally go up to him and tell him how you feel. he chuckles after seeing how scared you look to tell him, not even making eye contact as you speak. the ground or your shoes look really interesting. he lifts his hand slowly and holds your chin, trying to see if he's making you uncomfortable. when you show no sign of distress, he lifts your head up and gazes into your eyes.

the loving smile on his face soon matches your blushing cheeks and when he leans down to peck your lips he can feel how hot your face is burning, excited and nervous because of him. you still don't talk about naming it, as it kind of always had a name in your heads all along. you don't announce anything verbally but the no longer so secret looks stealed during meetings or lunch and the hugs shared, the hand-holdings seen by your coworkers tells them everything they need to know and gives them a reason to ask you about when you're having your double date with them.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

hope you enjoy, all feedback is appreciated! sorry for the inactivity, i'm open to any requests if anyone would like to make any<3

[ruh--roh-raggy]

Home Sweet Home (William Afton x Wife! Reader) - Pt. 1

Hello hello! So, I'm fully insane about this man rn. I can't help it. The brain rot has taken over my life and here we are lol. I wanted to write something that really focuses on the domestic fluff side of Reader's life with William, of course there will be some smut thrown in there too because I simply can't help myself 😂😂 Reader and William have just bought their first house together. This story follows their week long escapade of unpacking, making their home perfect, and going down memory lane. Lots of super cute stuff, chapters containing smut will be updated with proper warnings. If you enjoy this story and would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know!

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, MDNI, 18+ CONTENT AHEAD, smut marked with divider, age gap (reader in 30's William in 40's/50's), some swearing, face sitting, cockwarming, size kink, a singular (1) spank to readers ass, slightly dom! William, praise, Will just wants to give his wife some tender TLC after a long day of lugging boxes around (if I missed any please let me know!

You can find my Masterlist here!

Word Count: 3,538

Part 2

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“I want to paint the living room green, I think it would look nice with our couch.” William drove down the road, a soft smile on his face as he listened to you ramble on about all of your plans for their new house. Business at the pizzeria had skyrocketed, which meant that he could finally give his pretty little wife the front porch, white picket fence house of her dreams. You should be pulling in about a half hour before the moving truck is scheduled to arrive, allowing the two of you time to empty out his trunk. You stood at his side with a giddy smile on your face, William thumbing through his key ring to find the new shiny gold addition to his collection. He slides the key into the lock, chuckling at your excited squeals as he pushes the door open. He grabs you by the wrist, stopping you from running inside ahead of him.

“Isn’t there some old wives tale about carrying your wife over the threshold of a house?” He mumbles out the vague details he could remember. You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck with a giggle.

“It’s for good luck. Why? Do you want to carry me inside?” You smile coyly up at him.

“Well I’m not going to be the one bringing bad luck into our house.” He proclaims proudly, jabbing a finger into his chest. You let out a shriek as he scoops you up in his strong arms. You press a kiss to his scruffy cheek as you pass through the door. “Well, Mrs. Afton, welcome home.” He smiles down at you.

You spun around the empty living room floor, broom in hand as you did a quick sweep before the furniture got brought in. “Oh, Will, I'm so happy. Our own house.” You beam up at him. Your husband breathes out a chuckle, sweeping you up in his arms as he places a kiss to your forehead. Both of your attention was drawn to the windows as the moving truck rumbled into the driveway.

“Don't lift anything too heavy.” He orders with a firm point of his finger. “I hired movers so you don't have to struggle, if I see you doing too much you're going to be in big trouble later bunny.” You roll your eyes, wrapping your arms around him as you place a kiss to his chest.

“I promise I won't work too hard.” You fidget with the hem of his shirt. “I just want everything to be perfect.” You sigh with a slight shrug of your shoulders.

“I promise it will be, we have the whole week to get everything exactly how you want it.” He smiles, his thumb rubbing languidly across your waist. You excitedly threw open the front door, directing the movers inside before clamoring out to the truck yourself. William trailed after you, keeping a close eye on your excited figure. Your husband loved how passionate you were about everything you did, but you also had a tendency to overwork yourself. He sighs as he sees you struggling with a box, gently taking it from your hands and propping it against his hip. He glances around the trailer. “Here.” He nudges a box with his foot, one he had made a subtle marking on to signify it was one he packed light enough for you to easily carry. “Take that one, we’ll go put these in the bedroom.” He hops down from the back of the truck, taking your box from you and wrapping his hands around your waist to lower you safely to the ground. You practically skipped up the porch steps, scooting past the movers as you raced up to the master bedroom. Your mattress sat in the middle of the room. The white, sheetless bed was a stark contrast to the nearly black hardwood.

“We’ll need to go get a bed frame.” You sigh, setting down the box before collapsing on the mattress. William groans as he lays down by your side.

“I’m sure we’re going to have to get a lot of things.” He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you to him. “We’ll take care of everything, doll, don’t worry.” You spent the rest of the afternoon sliding furniture around downstairs while the movers brought in the rest of the boxes. The sun had already set by the time everything was brought in. You collapsed onto the couch with a tired groan, finally kicking your shoes off as you sank into the worn leather of the cushions. William sits beside you, lifting your feet only to drop them back in his lap. You let out a pleased hum as you feel his strong hands knead into your aching muscles. “Day one is officially over.” The two of you exchange a sleepy high five. A soft smile spreads across your lips as you take a moment to look at your husband. His gold, wire framed aviators sitting low on his nose, his large calloused hands massaging your feet with the utmost care and delicacy. You were William’s entire world.

“Honey,” he perks up at your soft voice, calling out to him, “how about I throw something together for dinner so we can get to bed.”

“I don’t think we have any groceries bunny.” He rebuttals with a chuckle. “Are you up for a drive? We could go pick up some pizza.”

“But it’s so cold.” You pout.

“I’ll go grab you one of my coats, sweet girl.” He cups your cheek, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he passes by you. You let out a soft hum as you buried your face into the soft fabric of your husband's coat, the comforting smell of his spicy, musky cologne, machine oil, and cigarettes filling your nose. He had an arm wrapped around your shoulder, allowing you to cuddle into his side as he drove up twisting back roads. The radio crackled softly, whatever song was playing was barely audible over the car's loud blower. You rested your hand on his thigh, William glancing down quickly, the sight of your wedding ring glinting in the soft light bringing a smile to his lips. He loved the fact that you were all his, his pretty wife, his little bunny. He loved how sweet and delicate you were. He had been hardened by years of working in his workshop and other strenuous jobs he had throughout his life, he barely registered this evening was brisk let alone cold. But he definitely wouldn't complain about you cuddling into his side for warmth, how your cheeks and the tip of your nose dusted pink from the chilly night air, how your fingers trembled as you tucked them under his thigh. He shuddered softly as you pressed your lips to his neck, the buzzing, yellow light from the pizza shop's sign illuminating the cab as you and your husband exchanged a look filled with need.

“Hurry back.” You shoot him a coy smile as he stumbles from the car.

The smell of warm crust and greasy pepperoni filled the car, the pizza nicely heating your lap. William’s arm draped over your shoulder, you allowed the rumbling car ride to rock you into his side. Your eyelids grow heavy as you try to keep yourself awake, a sleepy smile crawling across your features as you pull into the driveway. You sighed as you looked around at the mess of moving boxes, your dining table tucked away into a corner that would be too much work to get to. “Why don’t you go sit on the couch doll, I’ll be right back.” William’s hand quickly slips into yours, giving it a gentle squeeze as he passes by. You flop back into the cushions, letting the pizza box rest next to you. Even with the short amount of time you’ve spent in the house you could tell how different it was from your old apartment. You and William had moved to the middle of the woods in Hurricane, your nearest neighbor at least ten minutes down the road. There were no sounds of your neighbors talking quietly through the walls, no footsteps of the dog that lived upstairs. The house was completely silent, outside completely pitch black. You jumped as William’s feet started to thud down the stairs. He pushes into the living room with a groan, dragging your mattress behind him. He drops the bed in the middle of the floor with a dull thump, twisting side to side in order to stretch out his back. “I’ll go grab some pillows and blankets.” He smiles at you.

“It’s just like our honeymoon.” You laugh as he pulls you up from the couch. He tilts your chin up with his finger, capturing your lips with his.

“Oh, trust me,” he starts in a sultry tone, “I wish I could spend this entire week in bed with you.” You dropped down onto the mattress, a soft sigh falling from your lips as he massages your shoulders. You smile at him as you watch him disappear upstairs, returning a few minutes later with a box full of your bedding and some pillows. Deciding you weren’t up for the challenge you left the sheets in the box. You piled your comforter and a few throw blankets onto the bed, you crawled in before your husband joined you with the pizza. You two sit side by side, your head falling to rest against his shoulder.

“It’s no Freddy’s.” You grumble at your lackluster pizza. William chuckles in response to your pouting.

“How about we swing by and see Henry tomorrow, I’m sure I can sneak you a piece.” He winks with a lopsided grin.

“That sounds perfect.” The two of you chat quietly as you eat your dinner. Your new house feels too big for just the two of you. You laid on your back, staring at the exposed wood ceiling, you blinked a few times to adjust to the all consuming darkness after William had turned off the light. You felt the blankets shift as he crawled into bed next to you. His silhouette outlined by the soft, pale light of the moon that streamed through the window.

“We should get a dog.” He suddenly whispers, making you giggle. “I don’t want you to get scared all by yourself.” He teases.

“Maybe that’ll get you out of that workshop earlier.” He playfully rolls his eyes as he wraps an arm around your waist.

“You know, there’s nothing stopping you from coming to visit me.” He argues with a slight shrug.

“Except that everytime I do I end up sprawled naked on your workbench.” You smirk at him, your fingers absentmindedly playing with the soft material of his tshirt.

“Occupational hazard.” He responds quickly. You both laugh as you cuddle into his chest. He cards his fingers through your hair, his lingering gaze studying your features. “You’re so beautiful, bunny.” Your eyes flutter shut as his lips brush over yours.

His hand paws at your thigh, dragging your leg over his waist as he crushes you against him. You cup his face, deepening the kiss, his beard tickling your palm as you melt into him. Your legs lock around his waist as he rolls on top of you. His large, calloused hands wrap around your sides, pushing your hoodie up and over your head in one swift motion before his lips connect with yours again. You shivered slightly as the cold night air hit your naked body. He practically purrs at the sight of you, his lips hovering over your neck. Your fingers slid into his hair, a small squeal escaping your lips as he bit down hard on your sensitive skin. You bite your lip, letting out a soft hum as he pushes his hips into you, his already growing bulge noticeable through your thin shorts. “You couldn’t keep your eyes off me today, could you rabbit?” He smirks against your skin. You practically drooled over the sight earlier. William had a box resting on each shoulder, his skin glowing with a thin sheen of sweat. He paused as he caught sight of you leaning in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest as your eyes raked over him. He smirked, knowing that playful glint in your eye. He smiled as he noticed your cheeks reddening from your position laying below him. He hooks his fingers into the band of your shorts, placing featherlike kisses down your stomach as he eases them down your legs. You moan softly as you feel him nip at the skin of the inside of your thighs. Your back arches off the bed as he brushes his thumb over your sensitive clit, a broken moan leaving your lips. With how busy you had both been due to the move it had been a while since the two of you had been intimate. Your skin was already on fire from the small touch alone, William smirked as he watched your reaction closely. Your hands fisted in the blankets as he tossed your legs over his shoulders, his hot breath bouncing off your already soaked core. His arms slip around your hips, holding you firmly in place as he dove into hungrily lap at your folds. You moan out his name, already attempting to squirm away from his assault. He growls, dragging you closer to him. His fingers dig into your thighs with a bruising force, sure to leave marks behind. Your fingers tangle in his hair as his tongue swirls around your clit through your lace panties. He ate you out like a man starved, your soft gasps and quiet moans echoing in the empty room. You whined, tugging on his hair. “What’s the matter bunny?” He pushes your panties out of the way with his fingers, his skin growing slick with your arousal.

“I need you.” You whined, looking down at him with pleading, teary eyes. William gives in immediately with a soft chuckle, never one to deny you what you wanted. He tugs down your panties, placing soft kisses to your legs as he removes your final article of clothing at an agonizingly slow pace. He slides an arm under your back, pulling you on top of him as he collapses into the mattress. Your hands landed on either side of his head as you lost your balance, you blushed as you realized you were sitting on his broad, strong chest. He brushes your hair behind your ear before both of his hands wrap around your thighs.

“Come sit, bunny.” He coos, your face burning at his casual command. William absolutely loved whenever you sat on his face. However, he was well aware he would have to warm you up to the idea whenever he suggested it. You were always worried you were too heavy, you hadn't shaved, or you hadn't showered, and your husband always reassured you that none of those things were going to pose any problems for him. His beard tickled the inside of your thighs as you hovered over his eager mouth. His hands squeezed at your hips, groaning as your soft skin squished between his fingers. You cry out as he pushes you down onto him, his tongue lapping at your clit before he shoves his way in between your folds.

“Oh, fuck! Will!” You moan, your hips moving on their own. You let out a soft sob everytime his nose bumps against your clit. He growls, pressing hard into your hips as you try to wiggle away, his assault on your already sensitive cunt threatening to push you over the edge mere minutes after he starts. “Baby, it's too much.” Your voice shook as you tried to plead with him, years slipping from your damp eyes onto your cheeks as the coil of pleasure in your core wound tighter. William’s eyes were hazy as they met yours, his face smothered in your thighs as he greedily sucked your clit into his mouth. You tug his hair, making you groan against him. “I'm gonna cum.” It was all too much for you to handle, your body losing its rhythm as your climax threatened to rip through you. William let out an affirmative hum below you, knowing you were close by the slowing of your movements. He decides it's time for him to take over, determined to make you cum on his tongue. His fingers dig into the curve of your ass as he gradually increases the pace of your hips. You yelped as one of his hands suddenly connects with your skin, the mixture of pleasure and slight pain causing your soaked cunt to throb. Broken moans and whines rumbled effortlessly from your mouth, the fine tuned roaming of his hands paired with his expert tongue knowing just how you wanted to be touched to fall apart in his hands. William never got tired of making you finish. The way you would fall absolutely silent and still for a moment, mouth hanging open as no sound dared escape, your body taking time to catch up to the immense pleasure you were feeling. Now was no different. William felt his cock twitch at the sight of your eyes rolling back in your head, that brief moment of absolute silence making his ears ring before you screamed his name. He forced your hips to keep moving, never allowing your pace to slow as he felt your thighs shaking against his cheeks. You practically collapsed as he finally pulled his mouth off of you, a firm hand on your lower back keeping you upright as you shakily moved yourself back onto his chest. William reaches up to caress your cheek, wiping away tears that streaked down your skin. Your eyes felt heavy, you struggled to keep them open and on your husband as you came down from your high.

“Do you want to lay down?” He asks in a soft tone. You nod, collapsing into the mattress with a happy sigh. You hear the soft shuffling of William getting undressed before he gets under the blankets with a groan. You could feel the heat radiating off of him as he moved closer, his fingers ghosting over your waist before your pulled back against him. You can't help but giggle slightly as you feel his erection pressed firmly against your back.

“You want some help with that?” You press yourself into him, his breath catching in his throat at the contact as he tries to stifle a growl.

“You can't even keep your eyes open bunny.” He chuckles, you smile as you feel it rumble in his chest. You let out a dismissive sound, giving him a slight shrug. “How about we compromise?” You glance over your shoulder at him, curiously raising an eyebrow. Your eyes slide shut, letting out a soft hum as you feel his rough hands roaming over your skin. His fingers dip in between your thighs, gently coaxing them apart. You gasp as you feel his member prod at your entrance. “I could always fill you up before we go to bed.” He offers with a smirk, your face instantly flushing at the thought of cuddling up with your husband, trying not to squirm too much as he impaled you on his thick cock. You give him a nervous yet excited nod, the sight of you looking at him so sweetly as you chewed on your lip making it hard for him to not flip you over and pound you into the mattress. William assisted you holding your legs open, one massive paw wrapped around your thigh to allow him room to attempt to fit inside of you. You gripped tightly onto the sheets as he slowly began to push inside, the stretch from making it barely past his tip intense due to the lack of prep. “That's it sweetheart, just relax.” He purrs in your ear, pressing his lips to your shoulder. Another roll of his hips makes you whimper, feeling him slip slightly deeper into your fluttering cunt.

“Fuck, ‘s too big, ‘s not going to fit.” Your words slut as you tried to focus enough to speak. His pace was agonizing, you could feel every inch of him and every thick vein sliding over your velvety walls. You let out a shuddering breath as he finally bottoms out in you, the tip of his cock pressed snugly against your cervix. You felt like you would break in half at the smallest wrong move, even your slight shifting as you cuddled up with William had the edges of your vision going fuzzy.

“Such a good bunny, taking all of me so well.” His lips trail over your neck, you feel him smirk as you clench around him, repeatedly kissing and teasing what he knew was a rather sensitive spot of skin.

Your fingers intertwined with his, his strong arms wrapped protectively around as you're held flush to his chest.

“I love you.” You say quietly, feeling sleep trying it's hardest to pull you under. He gives your hand a soft squeeze.

“And I love you, sweet girl.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Tag List: @yellowbunnydreams @zoey5252 @redflowery @loudchaosking (I think that's everyone, if I missed you or you would like to be added please let me know!)

[thebadboyfanclub]

Welcome To Our Family (Daemon x Reader)

Hey everyone, so as I mentioned before I wanted to write a throuple thing with Rhaenyra and Daemon although even on this request there was some drama involved but it was interesting to write nonetheless. Also I don’t know why but this song inspired me the most especially the part “where you go I go, what you see I see” that was the vibe I was trying to pass for our reader with daemon

Most would say that the war in the stepstones had no place for love to blossom, the reeking stench of death had overtaken and most men had no life in their eyes, the majority prayed in gratitude that they were alive while others cursed the gods for keeping them on this forsaken realm when their friend of even their kin had been killed.

That did not even grace Daemon, who was lucky enough to spend every night in the arms of his beloved (y/n), the sister of one of his soldiers that had been wounded, (y/n) had marched in and demanded that her brother will come home.

“I will be damned if I allow you to give more than an arm for this, you are coming with me”

Her brother had obeyed her, she was as fragile as a rose but her thorns stung more than anything, right then and then Daemon had become a mere slave to his emotions, something that had never occurred before.

“I wish I could stay in your arms forever”

“That would be a dream, my love, however, we are counting the days until you depart, your wife probably awaits you”

Daemon was deeply offended by the jab his lover had thrown at him, slowly he rose up and away from her arm reach to look her straight in the eyes, the fireplace burned bright and the light shined against her glistening skin.

“You are questioning my feelings for you”

“I am questioning how strong they are, you are a prince, a husband, your life seems to hold no room for me”

“Is that how you think of this? That I just wanted to bed you?”

“Do you truly wish for me to answer that?”

Silence took over them while the only sound came from the crackles of the fire, Daemon was aware of how badly this could look, she was a commoner, a mere lady, and the realm would never accept her even if Daemon had not wed another.

“You and our daughter mean everything to me”

“But nothing to the king, he will ask for my head once he finds out I am carrying your child”

“I would never put your lives at risk”

“How do you plan on keeping us safe my love?”

“Do not worry about that, I will take care of everything”

(Y/n)s belly was starting to show, it wouldn’t take long for the king and his little whisperers to demand answers, the easy route was to declare his kin a bastard but Daemon was flying on cloud nine when (y/n) announced that she was with child, no he must do right by her.

He flew with her to Pentos, far away from Viserys and people that cared most about titles and crowns than love and compassion.

“Twins, my prince, two sons, praise the mother”

“What about (y/n)”

“The lady is a warrior, she is tired but healthy”

Daemon did not speak another word to the maester, he simply passed by him and into the room to find his beloved laying in bed, a faint smile on her face as she held one of her children while the other was being held by a midwife.

“You owe me 3 dragon coins”

“It is a bet I will happily pay, how are you feeling?”

“Sore and gross but happy, why don’t you hold him?”

“I-“

“Come on love it is merely a babe, like… so”

Slowly (y/n) passed one of her sons to her lover, instructing him to hold it carefully but securely, then she reached for the midwife so she can have her other son in her arms, both of the babes were quiet in their parent's arms.

“What should we name them?”

“I was thinking of Orryn, and mayhaps… Baelon?”

“Baelon and Orryn, the two princes”

Daemon and (y/n) had grown inseparable much to his brother's dislike Daemon had scoffed at his previous marriage and took his place next to his most endearing (y/n) that had blessed him with not just two children, but with passion, and comfort, she created a home for him, without her there was no warmth, no color.

Viserys was only finding out the milestones his brother was achieving with his mistress via ravens that Daemon dared to send, the birth of his sons had scratched a wound in Viserys that was not quite healed yet, so naturally when Rhea had passed due to fever, Daemon had even dared to invite Viserys to his wedding that took place in Pentos.

(Y/n) had just given birth to another set of siblings, Alyssa and Arren, two silver-haired princesses that slept peacefully through the night and would only stay quiet if (y/n) or Daemon held them, (y/n)s parents and brother had traveled to Pentos to finally meet the children and also attend the wedding.

“You look dashing sweetling, I see the prince has taken good care of you”

“How could I not? What is more important than the happiness of my lady wife?”

“We must admit we had conflicting thoughts over you my prince, I am happy that you proved us wrong”

“I do not hold it against you, she is your daughter you want what is best for her, also you were not the only one, (y/n) was also very skeptical over my intentions”

“I had every reason to do so”

“I have made peace with the fact that you will never admit you were wrong my love, you do not have to find excuses for it”

Daemon and (y/n) were wed in Valyrian traditions, something that infuriated Viserys, how dare he wed a commoner with the sacred paths of old Valyria, it was distasteful and utterly disrespectful, Viserys had only sent a one-sentence raven scroll back

“You disgust me, never come back”

Daemon had only rolled his eyes at it and threw it in the fire, he couldn’t care less about Kings Landing, they could eat each other for all he cared, (y/n) and their children were all that mattered ever since he met with the beautiful hues of hers, he treasured everything about her and worshipped the ground she walked on, he would always hold her close and shower her with gifts.

“We received a raven, I have taken the liberty to open it”

“What is it?”

“Laenor Velaryon has passed, and your niece is requesting our presence, well yours to be specific, she said “I need you, uncle”

“You are jealous, I have never seen you get jealous”

“Is this the one you told me about, that “spur of the moment” girl?”

“Indeed, we do not have to go, besides, my brother banished me”

“No, it is the first time our presence is requested”

“My dear, you are with child and the flight is long”

“I will be fine, I know it”

Daemon was certain he could not sway her, once something was on her mind there was nothing that could turn it around, he was also aware that the reason she was so adamant was a side of hers that felt threatened, there was a ghost of his past that was requesting attention and (y/n) was not willing to walk away from this without putting up a fair fight.

At a day (y/n) and her 8 children stood next to her and her husband all dressed in black, everyone rubbed their eyes at the sight of such numerous children, (y/n) always knew she was meant to be a mother and that fact that she had Daemon as her husband made it so much easier.

Until it didn’t, they were summoned by the king after the ceremony, (y/n) felt her stomach drop as soon as she walked in the room, instinctively her one hand went over her growing belly, yet she mastered the strength to place a smile and curtsy before the king.

“What is the meaning of this brother?”

“I was hoping we could agree to some sort”

“Over what?”

“I wish for you to come back, I… will legitimize your children and wife as she has proven worthy, bringing forward 8 children with another on the way is no easy task”

“The gods have been generous to us that is correct, we are grateful for this offer but forgive me to ask, since you mentioned an agreement it seems you want something in return”

“Correct, there is no smooth way to say this but as a parent, I hope you understand that I would do anything to protect my daughter”

“No”

“Daemon”

“If you are asking us to wed Rhaenyra then you have lost your mind, I will not involve my wife and children in your scandals”

“Pardon my husband, I think you can understand the reason behind his outburst”

Daemon was left confused over (y/n)s composure that attempted to cover for his utter refusal to hide his brother's plans, he turned to observe his wife, she was calm, and her hand went to find his as their fingers intertwined (y/n) gave him a slight squeeze of comfort.

“The legitimacy of our children and our marriage is something that we are interested in, however, you can see why we might have some objections over accepting Rhaenyra in our marriage”

“You are trying to negotiate?”

“Yes”

“What else would you like to accept, please speak freely”

“I want my children to be given dragon eggs as well as meet any unclaimed dragons, they are Targaryens, they should have the pick of their dragons as well”

“Done”

“I shall also be considered Rhaenyras wife, if we were to wed I shall have the same rights as my husband”

“You are suggesting the realm accept you as the future queen's consort?”

“As you mentioned I brought forward 8 children and another on the way, the crown shall accept them as future princes and princesses, if not then there is nothing for us here”

Daemon chose to observe his lady wife than speak up, she took initiative and strived for the best option, something he admired in her but he had never really witnessed how far she was willing to go to secure the future of her family, now she was sacrificing a spot in their marriage for a seat at the table, Viserys had been outsmarted by what he used to frown upon.

“Very well, we accept your conditions”

“Well then… welcome to our family Princess Rhaenyra”

-

(Y/n) and Daemon wed Rhaenyra as they had once done while their children and the rest of their family watched, Rhaenyra had underestimated the lady, (y/n) and might not be as assertive or rebellious as Daemon but her wits and calculated movements showed a woman that walked with her head held high and every step was thought after.

The days turned to seasons and then years, everyone was holding their breaths as they took a front-row seat to one of the most important marriages and alliances within the Targaryen Dynasty.

(Y/n) was held in the best light by the small folk, “the realms mother”, and “the Alyssane reborn” as her fertility kept thriving, blessing Daemon with another set of twins soon after Rhaenyra was wed, the two beautiful baby girls were named Megaera and Valera, the first of their family to receive dragon eggs on their cradles a gift by Rhaenyra who picked them herself then came Aegon, Viserys, and Visenya, overall (y/n) had the castle of Dragonstone filled with children, 13 to be precise.

Rhaenyra was painfully aware of how those babies came to fruition, Daemon's thirst for his wife was evident and he did not even consider giving Rhaenyra the courtesy of hiding, Rhaenyra had lost count of the times she had walked in on (y/n), and Daemon lusting after one another at all hours of the day and any room that was close to them, she sometimes wondered if the legends of Rhaenys being the favorite wife of Aegon made Visenya go through what Rhaenyra was also experiencing, is that mayhaps the reason behind Rhaenyra identifying with the warrior queen?

As (y/n) and Daemon stood by Rhaenyra at court, defending her and consulting her on important matters, painting the picture of a happy marriage with two spouses that supported her revolutionary claim, the realm expected Rhaenyra to bare a child as well, (y/n) was producing heirs one after the other, Rhaenyras womb laid empty since Daemon did not spend not even one night in her chambers.

It was the first time in years that the three of them had stepped foot in kings landing, Vaemond had called the court to usurp Lucerys from his claim at the driftwood throne, naturally, all 13 of their children were present along with the three boys from Rhaenyras previous marriage, (y/n) insisted that it would show how United they are and having that strong of a number on their side would scare off any other accusations.

A solid plan, until Ser Vaemond decided to protest against the king affirming young Lucerys as the successor for the driftwood throne.

“You run your house as you see fit, but I would rather die than let that boy take over my family’s name, parading around because you are too blind to see the truth”

“You dare question the decision of a king?”

“Look at them, all thirteen of them hold the characteristics of old Valyrian, true born heirs that I would happily accept as mine even though they came from a womb of a commoner, and you ask me to accept these three boys as Velaryons? It is blasphemy”

“You are certainly bold Ser Vaemond, you have the nerve to call me a commoner when I hold the future queen and the brother of the king as my spouses, my children are not thirteen, but sixteen, and all of them hold their names with pride, it saddens my heart to see that the thirst for recognition has turned you to this low of antics”

“Her children are BASTARDS! and she. Is. A. Whore”

“Pity, you had such great potential”

As (y/n) finished her sentence Daemon had taken the liberty to end Ser Vaemonds life, a clean cut through his head right above his tongue with the great sword dark sister, causing most people to gasp while (y/n) smirked and watched the body fall on the well-polished floor.

“No one disrespects our family”

“Disarm him!”

“No need, my love”

Daemon stretched his hand to his beloved (y/n) who only turned to pinch Lucerys cheek before she took her husband's hand to walk away, only to halt and turn around again, looking back to the rest of her family members.

“Rhaenyra”

Rhaenyra was grateful for (y/n)s graciousness, there was nothing that she could hold against her, she was loving and caring to her three boys, she would listen to Rhaenyra about any concerns for hours and even now she defended and included her in front of everyone.

She should be satisfied with such, still a thorn stuck in her heart and pride making Rhaenyra feel second best when it came to Daemon's heart, it has always been (y/n), (y/n) carried his offspring’s, he gave up everything for her, took her away and gave her a life full of gifts and love, the finest of any kind was reserved for (y/n).

“Pardon my intrusion, the princess is requesting Prince Daemon in her chamber”

“It is late, can it not wait?”

“Sweetling, the poor girl cannot know, go to her, I will be waiting for you”

“Fine, take your nightgown off for me, I want us to get straight to it when I get back”

Daemon whispered deviously before he planted a passionate kiss on the lips he most adored, reluctantly pulled away with an audible gruff and followed the servant girl silently, wondering what was so important that he had to leave his precious bed and his lustful wife right in the heat of the moment.

Rhaenyra paced back and forth with impatience written all over her demeanor and face, Daemon always had an influence over her, making her feel like a little girl again, though this was a different type of anxiety, once Daemon entered the room and the servant gave them their privacy Rhaenyra took a deep inhale through the nose to ease her nerves.

“I hoped to confront you over our marriage”

“What of it?”

“Do you truly think everything is fine or are you just blind?”

“I and my wife have honored our vows”

“That is the problem, you and your wife, it has never been just your vows”

“When you wed us you were to understand your place when it came to me and (y/n), I never used her as a surprise, you called for our aid and we generously offered it”

He was right, Rhaenyra had never been blindsided by them, (y/n) was a staple of their marriage, (y/n)s strive for the legitimacy of her children was the only reason Daemon allowed their wedding to happen, (y/n) had drank for Rhaenyras cup just as daemon had, binding their hands together and swore loyalty and devotion to their future queen.

As a woman Rhaenyra felt cast aside, this marriage was an insult to her pride, and having to bare through a birth of a child one after the other with a smile on her face was a twist of a knife in her wound, while her womb lay empty.

“You refuse to spend time with me, alone, you only show up with your children-“

“Our children, (y/n) and I call your sons our sons”

“At court yes”

“Are you questioning our actions? I did not have you to be as dim-witted as you seem right now, (y/n) called Lucerys her trueborn son in front of everyone, I took a man’s head for insulting you and our house and yet you stand before me and claim it is not enough for your liking?”

“I stand here to remind you that we have yet to produce a child, you can kill as many men as you wish, and (y/n) can scream it at the top of her lungs but that does not change that everyone sees her parading her belly and call her the realms mother while my womb rottenness under this wedlock”

“Rotten? Alright then, let us entertain this and say you bare my child, a silver-haired beauty that the realm will welcome, has it crossed that brilliant mind of yours that this will be more of a scandal for your three boys?”

“My sons are Targaryens”

“No doubt about it, but certainly they do not look like the part, in comparison to their brothers and sisters they look more like (y/n) than you”

“You are not refusing to lay with me to hush the rumors, you simply do not have the urge for it, I remember a time that you did, mayhaps it was the image of a gullible girl that kept you going”

“Listen and listen well, wife, (y/n) is my eternal love, the woman that took me in her arms and showed me life, you are my blood, I protected you, I defended you, I offered you sanctuary just so you can once again have something to complain about, well that is it, if you dare to summon me again for such idiotic matters I will grab my brother by the neck and force him to annul the marriage do you understand?”

Daemon was furious, as he spoke he started taking steps towards her, to the point that her back found the wall and Daemon was inches away from her face, hissing out the threat of annulment like a snake that released poison to its prey.

Rhaenyra had never experienced such hostility from Daemon, to say she was shocked was an understatement as her eyes frantically tried to find focus on his, daemons eyes were filled with fury, Rhaenyra had crossed the line in his mind, (y/n) had been kind and honorable to the princess, doing her duty like a proper lady wife and Rhaenyra scoffed at her, at his (y/n).

“Alright”

“Wonderful, now you must excuse me, I have some urgent matters that need my attention”

Requests are open!

[animehideout]

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

PART 3

Gojo Satoru X Fem! Reader

Check Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4

a/n: sorry for taking too long to post part 3, it's because I post on Wattpad as well {for anyone's who's interested in Straykids x Reader ff check my Wattpad @narae_99 }

Warnings: Mature language.

♪Song suggestions♪ The weeknd - Trust Issues.

Words count: 1.4K

• Time skip •

You sat on the couch in the school's common room, watching everyone chatting together. Yuji didn't leave your side, he was talking nonstop, it made you really happy cuz someone is actually interested in having a conversation with you, since you spent you whole life outcasted and rejected, feeling like an outsider even within your own family. No one found interest in you, since you weren't a sorcerer.

Gojo watched as you were having fun talking with now; your students. And of course he didn't like that, he was still pissed by the idea that from now on you'd be his colleague. Even though you didn't do anything wrong, and you equally hated the idea of your arranged marriage, he saw you as a burden thay he is forced to carry. All what was on his mind, from the moment you took your vows, is how to make your life a living hell.

Breaking your curse wouldn't come out of charges. He's been thinking of ways to humiliate you and make you feel small in front of everyone. It's like a punishment of you being his wife.

He slowly approached Mei Mei, making sure to inactivate his infinity, giving her the green light to grasp the chance she's always dreamt of and allow her to touch him even though he never let her or Utahime to physically get near him.

“So Mei Mei–why don't you move here and start teaching in Jujutsu High, it would be ravishing to see you everyday!” he said loud enough to get your attention and he did.

“Oh Gojo, I know I've always been pleasing to your eyes!”

“Yes indeed..”

She chuckled as she extended her hand, her long fingers running on his chest,

“I would definitely give it a thought..Satoru” she called him by his first time for the first time, in a flirtatious way.

Mei Mei is a smart woman, Gojo never bothered to look at her before, let alone flirt with her, so she figured out his real intentions right away, so she played along, to offend you, she never liked you anyway.

Mei Mei always craved Gojo's attention, and she's enjoying it now even if it's fake. Her hands couldn't leave his body as she flirted back... touching his broad shoulders, tracing his jawline with her fingers with as sly smirk.

She leaned closer to him, her lips touching his ear, as she whispered, “Want me to offend the shit out of her..Gojo?”

“Do your thing, and I'll deposit that money in your account” he simply answered.

They made sure you were watching. You swallowed hard, observing them as they continued their playful banter, it wasn't jealousy but you felt a mix or irritation and discomfort. Whether he liked it or not, he's your husband legally and in front of everyone, so the least he could do is respect you, at least while others are watching as well, and he can hate you as much as he wanted in private.

“Y/n-sensei!! are you okay?” asked Yuji in repeat,

but you didn't hear him untill he shook your shoulder gently. You were too focused on Gojo and Mei Mei.

“Hm? sorry?” you said waking up from your trance.

“Everything is fine sensei??”

“y-yeah I'm good–just um... I'll be right back”

You excused yourself from Yuji, Megumi and Maki to pour yourself a cup of water.

Both Gojo and Mei Mei started laughing loudly as you walked past them. The atmosphere was too insulting and unpleasant to stay still, especially that your students and even the principal Yaga noticed how your husband ignored you and shamelessly flirted with another woman, you felt embarrassed.

You walked to the school's kitchen to get a cup of water that might cool you down, away from them. You enjoyed the silence, but soon it was interrupted by Mei Mei,

“Oh you're here y/n”

You maintained your composure in front of her, taking a sip from your water.

“Yeah,..was kinda thirsty”

“Come on all of the boys left, we're left alone, all girlies!! come join us, this party was for you after all” she exclaimed, as she started dragging you with her.

“Nah I'm good, it's kinda late so I might just go home”

“Hah? go home to who? to an empty house? Gojo told me that both of you don't live in the same house!”

It's like getting slapped hard across the face! such thing should have been kept private, It's none of anyone's business to know if you're sleeping under the same roof as Gojo.

“He proved himself to be a jerk” you thought to yourself. You didn't know what to say, Gojo has already spilt everything out.

“LETS GO” she yelled, pulling you back to the common room with her. All the girls were there, Utahime , Nobara and Maki.

“our bride arrived, where have been hiding?” said Utahime.

You sat on the couch trying to find a comfortable position, your heart pounding with anxiety.

Out of nowhere Utahime spoke, “So y/n! tell us, is Gojo a good fuck??”

Your eyes widened in shock, first of all you don't have an answer for that since you obviously didn't have sex, second of all, it was too inappropriate to ask such thing.

You stuttered, as you were about to answer, “I- Um..”

But Mei Mei cut you off, swirling a strand of her hair between her fingers as she spoke, “Oh I'm sure he was, me and Gojo used to hook up a lot, and let me tell me, he's so damn good” she lied.

Air got caught up in your throat, clenching your fists, struggling to keep on a normal face not letting their provocations take the best of you.

“come on y/n don't be shy tell us!!” said Utahime insisting,

you forced a smile as you spoke politely , “excuse me but I don't think my personal life is up for discussion”

“but wh-”

“Dont push too hard Mei Mei, she's not comfortable to answer this, move on already geez” said Maki clearly pissed.

“Chill Maki, we just wanted to get to know each other on a personal level” said Utahime chuckling.

Maki rolled her eyes in annoyance, you wanted to say a lot of things or just punch them across the face, but it was useless, no matter how hard you try to defend yourself, thanks to Gojo everyone already discovered that your marriage is just on paper.

“Excuse me ladies, as you know tomorrow is my first day teaching so it's better if I rest at home” you said walking out,

“tch how boring” sighed Mei Mei.

Maki followed you “Sensei!! Y/n sensei!!”

“hm Maki?”

“Please ignore them, they feed on provoking others, so please don't focus too much on what they say” she reassured.

You smiled, softly patting her shoulder, “Thank you Maki, but don't worry I'm fine..really!”

•Time skip•

There he was standing in the school's garden, breathing the fresh air, enjoying the cold night breeze.

You were already frustrated and seeing him made it ten times worse. You rushed his way,

“The hell was that Satoru?” you yelled,

He turned around looking at you raising his eyebrow, he wasn't wearing his blindfold, “Ugh! you again, what do you want?”

“Don't you have any manners? casually speaking of private stuff, telling everyone that we don't live together and that our marriage is fake? Don't you know that some things should remain unspoken of, especially in front of strangers?”

He bursted into laugher, mockingly, “Oh the only stranger here is you y/n! now don't tell me you're jealous? Oh is it because I didn't fuck the shit out of that pussy of yours?”

“Hah, jealous?? you don't mean anything to me Satoru, and I'm not dying to have sex with you” you yelled back.

“Then why are you mad about it?”

“Stop spilling private shit out, especially if it includes me or my dignity” you threatened pointing your index finger at him.

He took a step closer to you, his giant frame sending shivers down your spine, eyes conveying threat and anger,

“A talentless, weak human like you can't tell me what to do, besides I didn't know you had any dignity. You're not-”

*SLAP*

You slapped him with all might and power in you. “FUCK YOU SATORU”.

He took it too far, humiliating you both with words and actions is something you would never accept. Even if you don't have any cursed techniques, you're still a human, who deserves to be treated with love and respect.

He looked at you in disbelief, eyes widening, the sting of the slap reverberating through his senses. A moment of stunned silence followed, you glared at him one last time, then you left him standing there.

“I'll make you pay for this, y/n..” he promised.

Taglist 🫶🏻:

@hermitkerm @smolbeanzzz @eolivy @sanriosatoru @kiki17483 @khaleesihavilliard @ryumurin @bookswillfindyouaway @numblytemporary

[luvismenu]

chap: 17 — see nobody else ✎ ,, index

warnings: rainy night, some crying, some confessions, bathing together, protected sex, kissing, some fluffy moments, they kinda TALK (finally yippee)

wc: 4.4k+

note: yeah you guys, it's the beginning of the end. thank you for sticking around with my mess, cuz idk why and how you guys still wait and read this fic omg..

'do you forgive us?'

those four words broke you.

for the first time in your life, you feel.. regretful, for pushing people away.

all your life, you convinced yourself that cutting ties with anyone who hurt you, or who disrupted the balance of your carefully crafted rules was the right thing to do.

you believed it was protecting you.

but now, standing here thinking about everything that's been going on, you’re not so sure anymore.

you try to recall the last time you allowed yourself to simply let go, to live in the moment even if it wasn’t what you deemed “right.” it’s hard to remember because, for as long as you can think, you’ve always had a plan. a script for how life should be, how people should act, and how relationships should work.

you wanted things to go your way, to stay within the lines you drew.

was that selfish of you? probably.

but was it wrong? again... you’re not sure anymore.

maybe the rules you created to protect yourself had also kept you caged, pushing away the very moments and people who could have brought you happiness. maybe in trying to control everything, you lost the chance to truly experience anything.

your throat tightens as you think about it more and more.

you couldn’t answer her.

you couldn’t answer anyone.

it was all too much.

were you scared? were you still clinging to some invisible shield, trying to protect yourself from everything and everyone? but then, as the questions swirled in your mind, one stuck out— how are you going to be okay by hurting others? how is this any different from being completely selfish?

how are you going to explain to everyone that you’ve been so caught up in your own head, so focused on your own fears, that you couldn’t bring yourself to talk or fix things?

the thought makes your chest ache.

you feel awful.

you want to cry.

you need to let it out.

maybe that’s why you’re out here, in the middle of the night, standing in the rain, drenched and shivering, holding onto your jacket hoping that it would give you some kind of warmth but it doesn't help.

you're just staring at jungkook’s door like it holds all the answers.

you want to apologize.

you want to tell him how stupid everything’s been, how sorry you are for running away, for shutting him out.

but fear grips you.

what if he doesn’t want to listen? what if it’s too late?

you stand there frozen.

should you ring the bell? should you talk to him?

is this the right thing to do?

. . .

jungkook can’t sleep.

how could he? his mind is a mess. it's all over the place right now.

he’s scared too, though he doesn’t show it. he's fucking terrified.

you’ve been avoiding the real conversation, the one that might finally clear the air between you. and that terrifies him. because what if your answer isn’t what he wants to hear? what if this wasn't the right thing to do?

but even with that fear clawing at him, he’s willing to try.

he’s not ready— not entirely, no. he doesn’t know if he ever will be, but the thought of letting you go so easily makes his stomach twist.

whatever it is he feels for you, whether it’s infatuation, like, love… he doesn’t care what it’s called. he just knows he needs you. he wants you in his life.

but wanting you scares him too.

what if he crossed a line without realizing it? what if he pushed too hard, selfishly trying to make you see things his way?

is it wrong for him to be so consumed by you? to wish, selfishly, that your world revolved around him the way his seems to revolve around you?

is it bad that he wishes you see nobody else except him?

he sighs, his fingers raking through his hair as he stares up at the ceiling, listening to the rhythmic patter of rain against the window. the sound fills the silence, but it brings no answers. he’s waiting.. waiting for clarity, for courage, for something to make sense. but nothing comes.

you ring the bell.

once.

twice.

your fingers tremble as you wait, the cold rain soaking through your clothes and biting into your skin. you're shivering now; not just from the chill, but from the vulnerability you feel standing here.

it's uncomfortable, exposing yourself like this, but how else are you going to fix things? how else can you make things right if you don't start somewhere?

the door swings open sooner than you'd expected, and jungkook appears, his face shifting from blank confusion to complete worry the second he sees you.

“___!” he says, his voice filled with concern as he steps forward, his hand reaching for you but faltering halfway. “come in,” he says quickly, stepping aside to let you in.

he doesn’t ask anything yet, though his mind is undoubtedly racing. all he sees is that you're drenched from head to toe; your hair sticking to your face, your clothes clinging to your body, and you look... guilty?

you step inside hesitantly, water dripping from your clothes and pooling onto the floor. you glance down, noticing the mess, but jungkook doesn’t even seem to notice that.

“you’re drenched,” he murmurs, closing the door behind you. “i’ll get you a towel and.. clothes, yeah... do you want to take a bath?” he sounds as calm as he can manage, but his concern is clear in every word.

you stare at him, your lips trembling. you don’t even know what to say.

“why didn’t you call me?” he asks, stepping closer, his eyes scanning you. “i would’ve picked you up.”

you stay silent, your breath hitching as his worried gaze pierces through you.

“are you okay, ___?” he asks again, his voice even gentler now, and that’s it.

that question, so simple yet filled with care.

it breaks you completely.

your chest tightens as a sob escapes your lips, tears spilling over before you can stop them. you lower your head, your sniffles turning into quiet cries, the pain in your throat unbearable as the emotions you’ve been bottling up come flooding out.

jungkook’s eyes widen, his face crumpling at the sight of your tears. instinctively, he reaches for you again, his arms lifting to pull you close. but before he can, you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, holding onto him tightly.

you sob into his chest, and he holds you immediately, his arms wrapping around you. one hand on the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your wet hair, while the other presses firmly against your back. he doesn’t care that you’re soaking wet or that your tears are soaking through his shirt.

all he cares about is you being there with him. in his arms.

“___,” he whispers softly, his voice breaking slightly as he holds you closer. your sobs quieten, but the tears keep falling, each one tearing at his heart.

he pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing against your wet cheeks, wiping away the tears that don’t seem to stop. “look at me,” he says gently, and you do, your tear streaked face making his heart ache.

“what’s wrong, babe? talk to me,” he pleads, his gaze searches yours, desperate for answers, desperate to understand.

your lip quivers as another sob escapes you. “i-i’m sorry,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling.

he doesn’t ask you why. not yet, at least.

instead, he tilts his head slightly, his voice soft and steady as he asks, “would you like to take a hot bath?”

the question catches you off guard. you blink up at him, your eyes still tearful.

you don’t respond right away, unsure of what to say, but he doesn’t rush you. he strokes your cheek gently with his thumb, his hand warm against your cold, damp skin.

“you’re freezing,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “let's talk after i know that you're fully warmed up... okay?”

you nod weakly, your body too tired to resist. he guides you to the bathroom, his hand resting lightly on your back. you feel a twinge of embarrassment as water continues to drip from your clothes, leaving a trail on the floor, but jungkook doesn’t really seem to care.

once inside, he reaches for a clean towel and sets it on the counter before turning on the faucet. the sound of water filling the tub echoes softly in the room, the steam rising quickly as the water heats.

“give me your jacket,” he says quietly, turning to you with his hand outstretched.

you hesitate for a moment before takiing it off, your fingers fumbling slightly from the cold. he takes it from you without a word, setting it aside.

“i’ll step out and grab you some dry clothes,” he says, his voice still soft, still patient. “take your time, okay?”

but as he turns to leave, your voice cuts through the quiet. “wait.”

he stops immediately, his hand on the doorknob as he looks back at you.

“don’t go,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

his brows furrow slightly, concern etched across his face. “___,” he starts, “you’ll be more comfortable if you change out of these clothes and—”

“no,” you interrupt, your voice trembling but you're trying to keep it steady. you’re not sure why, but the thought of him leaving, even for a second, feels unbearable. “i just… i want you to stay.”

he stares at you for a moment, as if trying to figure out how serious you are. when he sees the look in your eyes, he sighs softly and steps back into the room.

“okay,” he says quietly, walking towards you.

you nod, your throat tightening as the emotions threaten to overwhelm you again.

he kneels beside the tub, his gaze soft as he looks up at you. “i'll stay,” he says gently. “is that okay?”

his voice is so soothing, so steady, that you find yourself nodding without hesitation. you trust him, and right now, that’s enough.

but before you can step in, you reach out and grab his wrist. “jungkook,” you say softly.

his eyes widen slightly in surprise. “what's wrong?”

you bite your lip, hesitant. “i don’t want to bath alone,” you admit quietly, your voice barely audible over the sound of running water.

he stares at you for a moment, processing your words, and then he gulps. “okay,”

your heart races as he begins unbuttoning his shirt, his movements careful and slow, as though giving you time to change your mind. when he takes it off and reaches for the hem of his pants, he pauses, glancing at you. “are you sure?” he asks softly, his dark eyes searching yours.

you start taking off your clothes too. “i’m sure,”

he steps into the tub, the warm water splashing slightly as he lowers himself into it. he looks at you again, his gaze never leaving you, and holds out his hand. “come here,” he says gently.

you hesitate for only a moment before moving to join him inthe tub. the warmth of the water feels like a soothing balm against your chilled skin, and you sink down slowly, settling in across from him.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the sound of the water and the faint patter of rain outside fills the silence.

“come closer,” jungkook says softly, breaking the quiet.

you hesitate again, but the look in his eyes is so earnest, so full of care, that you can’t resist. you shuffle forward until you’re within reach, and he gently pulls you into his lap.

his arms wrap around you, holding you close as the warmth of the water and his body seeps into yours. you breathe softly as you places your hands on his shoulders.

“better?” he asks, his voice a low murmur.

“yeah,” you whisper.

his hand moves slowly, soothingly, up and down your back, andfor the first time in what feels like forever, you let yourself breathe.

the warmth of the water surrounds you, but it’s his presence that truly soothes you. his arms hold you securely.

you wonder if he’s nervous or if it’s something else entirely. his hand strokes your back slowly, his touch soft as though he’s afraid you might shatter if he isn’t careful.

jungkook’s heart is racing.

he’s never seen you like this. it shakes him because, in his mind, you’re always so in control. but now, here you are, letting him hold you, leaning on him like you trust him, and it’s enough to make his heart race.

he wonders if he’s doing this right. if holding you like this is enough to tell you everything he feels but can’t say. because the words are there. he just doesn’t know how to string them together without ruining this fragile moment.

your own thoughts are no less chaotic.

you think about how you’ve spent so much time pushing people away, building walls to keep you steady, but here he is, breaking through them without even trying. it scares you how much you need this. how much you need him.

you shift slightly in his lap, and you feel him tense for a moment before he relaxes again. you feel him against your core, firm and pressing, and the realization sends a shiver through you. a small gasp escapes your lips before you can stop it

“sorry,” you mumble quickly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the heat rushing to your face betrays you.

“no, it’s... it’s okay,” he says softly. he clears his throat, his grip on you loosening as though giving you space, but he doesn’t pull away entirely.

you don’t move either, unsure of what to do. the moment feels tense, like you’re both balancing on a thin line.

“___,” he says after a beat, his voice low and careful.

you look at him. “yeah?”

he hesitates, his dark eyes searching yours for something; permission, reassurance, maybe both. “i don’t... want you to feel uncomfortable,” he says finally.

you shake your head quickly, your hands tightening slightly on his shoulders. “i’m not,” you admit, and it’s the truth. despite the initial surprise, you don’t feel uncomfortable. if anything, you feel hyperaware; of him, of the closeness, of the heat building between you.

his gaze softens at your words, “are you sure?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now.

you nod, your throat dry as you try to find the right words. “it’s just... a little overwhelming i guess,” you say honestly, your voice trembling slightly.

he exhales slowly, “yeah?” he murmurs, a small smile tugging at his lips. “tell me about it.”

the way he talks makes you feel a little braver, and you shift again. his breath hitches this time, and his hands move instinctively to steady you, gripping your waist gently.

“sorry,” you mumble again, though you’re not entirely sure what you’re apologizing for.

“don’t be,” he swallows hard, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. “just... let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

you nod again, your heart pounding in your chest. neither of you move for a while. the tension is lingering but it's not unpleasant, no. it's not even close to that.

“jungkook,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the gentle slosh of water.

“yeah?” he murmurs, his voice low

you pause, trying to gather your thoughts. “i want to talk” you say finally

he looks into yiur eyes, a small smile creeping up his lips. “we are talking, aren't we?”

“no... i mean, yes but i want to talk about us,” you say, and you see his expression change to.. surprise? confusion?

“really?,” he asks softly. “a-are you sure?”

“yes.. you-” you sigh. “you make me feel like it’s okay,” you admit quietly. “like... like it’s okay to not have everything figured out.”

he exhales a soft laugh. “that’s because it is okay,” he says. “nobody has everything figured out, ___.”

you smile a little. “you always seem like you do,”

he shakes his head, “i don’t,” he admits. “i’m just good at pretending.”

“yeah you are,” you smile.

he smiles too. his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer, and you don't resist. instead, you melt into him, like you always do.

the kiss is soft but intense, as if he's trying to tell you everything he can't put into words. your hands move instinctively to his hair, fingers threading through the damp strands, tugging gently. his grip on your waist firms, anchoring you to him, as though he's afraid you might slip away.

but you’re not going anywhere.

your bodies press together, and you can feel him, hard against your core. the feeling pulls a quiet whimper from you, your breath hitching against his mouth.

“jungkook...” you murmur, your lips barely parting from his.

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours.

“i know,” he whispers, his hand moves to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as though to reassure you. “we don’t have to rush, ___.”

something about the way he says it, the way his gaze is on you, tells you that he’s willing to give you anything, everything, if you ask for it.

. . .

you’re both out of the bath now. jungkook carried you to his bedroom, and for some reason, it wasn’t awkward at all. it felt.. normal.

you’re lying on his bed, and he’s on top of you, his weight hovering just enough to keep you comfortable. he tears open the condom wrapper, sliding it over his length with ease, his eyes never leaving yours.

he leans down, pressing soft kisses along your neck and chest, his fingers grazing your skin gently.

“i’m here to talk, not... this,” you breathe out, a small, half hearted smile tugging at your lips. the way you say it isn’t convincing though, and he can tell.

he pauses, pulling back slightly to look at you. “you want me to stop then?” his voice is soft, his gaze steady as he searches your face for any sign of hesitation.

“no,” you admit quietl

he doesn’t say anything more, leaning down to kiss you again.

his hand moves lower, positioning himself at your entrance. you exhale softly, your body already anticipating the stretch as he pushes in slowly. your eyes flutter shut as you moan at the feeling, the familiar feeling of pleasure and fullness making you lose yourself in the moment.

jungkook groans above you, his brows furrowing as he begins to move, his thrusts slow.

this wasn’t what you’d planned when you came here. you wanted to talk, to tell him everything you’ve been holding in. to admit how much he means to you, even if it terrifies you. but now, with him like this, you realize that he makes you feel safer than anyone else ever has. and if that’s not love, then you don't know what is.

wait. did you just think...

“f-fuck baby,”

he groans as his thrusts deepen, dragging another moan from your lips. he leans back slightly, his hands gripping your waist as he lifts you onto his lap, settling you there with him still inside.

“come here,” he murmurs, his voice low and breathless.

your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he thrusts upward. your hands find his shoulders, holding onto him as your body adjusts to this new position.

“mmph... jungkook,” you gasp, your voice trembling.

his hands steady you, his fingers pressing into your waist as he moves. it feels so good that it’s almost overwhelming.

“i’m sorry,” you blurt out suddenly, your voice barely above a whisper. “i’m sorry for avoiding you...”

he doesn’t stop, but his lips find your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. “i’m sorry too,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm.

he looks up at you then, his movements slowing slightly as his eyes meet yours.

“i—” you start, but he cuts you off with a kiss. you melt into it, letting him take over as his thrusts pick up speed again, each one hitting the perfect spot that has you crying out his name.

“not yet,” he whispers against your lips, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he keeps going, his pace quickening. the sounds of skin against skin and your soft moans fill the room, mingling with the occasional deep groans from him.

“jungkook,” you gasp, your fingers digging into his shoulders as the pleasure builds, overwhelming and all consuming. your mind is a haze of him; his hands, his lips, his voice.

“baby, you areso good,” he murmurs against your neck, his lips trail kisses along your collarbone, leaving you breathless.

and then, before you can think, the words spill out of you.

“i love you.”

everything stills for a moment, his movements falter, his eyes snapping to yours, wide and filled with something you can’t quite place.

but he doesn’t stop.

instead, he presses his forehead to yours, his thrusts resuming, slower but deeper, his gaze never leaving yours. “and i love you,” he says softly

the tension in your body reaches its peak, the pleasure too much to contain. you cry out his name again as you come undone, your body trembling in his hold. he follows seconds later, groaning deeply as he finds his release, his grip on you tightening as he buries himself to the hilt.

you collapse against him, both of you panting and spent, the room filled with the sound of your heavy breathing. his arms wrap around you, holding you close as you both come down from the high.

after a moment, he breaks the silence. “i think we should take a bath again.”

you let out a tired laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. “yeah, we should.”

the next morning, you woke up to the soft warmth of jungkook’s bedsheets around you. it was peaceful, quiet— almost too good to be true.

you made your way into the kitchen, where jungkook was already sipping on a cup of coffee. you walked up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist in a soft embrace. he let out a quiet chuckle, his free hand resting gently on yours.

“good morning,” you whispered, burying your face on his bare back.

“good morning,” he replied, taking another sip of his coffee. “sleep well?”

“yeah,” you murmured, “better than i have in a long time, actually.”

he smiled, the moment lingered for a bit, both of you just enjoying the silence until you spoke again.

“can i tell u something?” you started, your voice hesitant. he set his coffee down and turned to face you, waiting for you to continue.

you took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “my mom.. she asked me if i would forgive them.” you paused, trying to find the right words. you see the way he softens, like he feels bad for you. “and it really messed with me. because this isn’t how things were supposed to go, you know? i always thought i’d be strong, but.. then it made me realize... i don’t know. maybe i was holding on to something that wasn’t meant to be.”

he reaches for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “it's okay, you’ve been through a lot,” he says quietly

you exhale softly. “and i always had these rules, these boundaries that i put up to.. I don't know, i just felt like it was the right thing to do. but now, looking back, it all just feels... stupid. and i’m sorry for being so stubborn.” your voice cracks slightly, but you push through. "but then, when i saw you with someone else... i immediately assumed the worst, and i was so jealous. it was so stupid. and then i started this mess with jason, and i know that was wrong. i am sorry that everything has just been so fucking messy.”

you pause, meeting his eyes. “and i want to fix it. i just... i don’t know how. but i want to try...” you pause. there is a long silence as jungkook processes everything you’d said. he looks serious, but not the harsh kind of serious. and finally, he speaks.

“honestly..” he starts. “i think you have commitment issues,” he said, surprising you. your eyes widened, and you took a step back, trying to process what he meant.

“w-what?” you stammered.

his gaze softens, reaching for your arm. “i understand though. you’ve never really had anyone to be committed to, have you?”

that's kinda true.

“you were just trying to protect yourself. and i get that.” he continues.

“i have to apologise too because well, i was jealous too and i’m sorry for going along with the whole ‘mia’ thing. that was messy, yes. but i do get it.”

you look at him. “you... you understand?”

“yeah,” he nods, his hand brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “i do. i can see now that it scares you to commit because of everything you’ve been through. and i am sorry for putting you in a position like that.” he pauses. "but.. i’m not going anywhere. not now. not after everything we’ve been through.”

you let out a breath, your shoulders relaxing. “i really want to try,” you say, your voice softer now. “i really really do. i just... don’t know where to start.”

he smiles, pulling you into his arms again. “we’ll figure it out, together.”

you rest your head against his chest, feeling his warmth. “you know... you’re the first person to make me feel like... this. i never thought i’d be able to trust anyone like this. i must really like you,”

“oh? wasn’t it ‘i love you’?” he teases, a playful grin spreading across his face.

you laugh, pushing him away lightly. “you said it too!” you tease back, feeling lighter than you had in a long time.

he pulls you back into him, kissing your forehead gently. “i know. i meant it.”

you chuckle softly.

“i did too.”

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