#you look different. your eyes look tired.

[seungisms]

🖇️📁 𝐒𝐊𝐙 … 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐔𝐁/𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐃𝐘𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐒

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut, do not interact if you’re under 18

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex, phone sex, fingering, oral (male and female receiving), orgasm denial, overstimulation, edging, degradation, body worship, dry humping, spanking, cum eating, mentions of period sex, sub/dom dynamics

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: got a bit carried away here cus i've just missed my boys so much, it feels good to be writing for them again :( kiwi!hyunjin was imagined for this cus his shaved head is the sole reason i'm keeping it together rn, sub!jisung 🗣️🗣️🗣️

𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍

king of service tops

he’s such a doting dom and will happily ignore his own needs as he coaxes orgasm after orgasm out of you

will spend hours with his head tucked between your thighs, ignoring the swell of his dick just to make a fucked out mess out of you

pants into your pussy when you whine and claw at the sheets beneath him, large hands keeping your trembling thighs spread open so his tongue can fuck deeper into your cunt

your pretty whimpers making his needy cock leak with precum onto the mattress

groans into your pussy as your hands tangle themselves in his hair, blunt nails leaving dents in the plush skin of your thighs

soso caring and attentive with you

fully aware of the size difference between you and will have to restrain himself from just flipping you over and using your pussy like a fleshlight

but he doesn’t wanna hurt you :(

fucks so gentle

will gently nudge his cock between your dripping folds, looking down at you with the most lovesick look on his stupid face and you’ll just have to look away to focus on the slight stretch of your hole around his thick member before you start begging this man to fuck a baby into you

leaves hot open-mouthed kisses against your neck and chest and traces your hip fondly with his thumb, shushing your small gasps as he stuffs you full

only ever gets rough with you when he’s had a stressful week and hasn’t slept

won’t even bother to greet you as he walks through the door, finding you snuggled up in bed with nothing but one of his tops on and a pair of stupid frilly panties that he wants nothing more than to rip off you

shoves your face into the pillows and props your ass up in the air, rubbing his clothed cock against your pussy

complete 180 from his usual self, will take what he wants and tells you to stfu and be grateful for what he gives you 😔

gets pussy drunk so easily and starts babbling nonsense while splitting you in two

“don’t wanna hear any of your bitching today sweetheart, take it like a good girl.”

“you’re so pretty taking my cock so good.”

fucks into your pussy until he’s made a complete mess of it, creamy and full of cum

even as a sub he’s still dom leaning <3

loves when you take care of him after a particularly hard day

playing with his soft cock as he leans back and watches you through sleepy eyes, soft praises and groans leaving his lips

nearly cums right away when you take him deep into your mouth, nose pressed against his pelvis before pulling off - thumb pressing into the sensitive slit of his cock head and peppering soft kisses on the underside

nearly melts when you run a bath for him to relax his sore muscles, coaxes you to join him and before you know it you’re stuffed to the brim on his lap, claiming it’ll help get rid of his stress and how could you deny this fool :( 

loves that he doesn’t have to do any of the work when you take care of him like this, walls clenching around his fat dick, tits pressed tightly against his chest and tired groans against your neck as your hands card through his wet hair

nuts so quick when he subs

starts apologising all cutely when he does, leaving a tired kiss against your lips and promising he’ll fuck you like he means it next time

this man fucks like an animal after a good nights rest istg

definitely more dom leaning but also loves when you take over now and again and fuck him until he’s empty headed - thinking about nothing but filling up your warm cunt until it’s a sticky used mess

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐇𝐎

this man is a hard dom through and through and nothing can change my mind

extremely patronising when he’s dicking you down 

will have his fingers stuffed deep in your pussy, thumb pressing down on your puffy nub as he watches you squirm and whimper against him

gets such a sick glint in his eyes when he hears you cry about how you can’t take anymore, tutting under his breath in mock disappoint - claiming he knows you can give him better than that

will degrade and overstimulate you to the point of tears, just so he can keep hearing those pretty whimpers of yours

“look at the mess you’ve made, haven’t even had a taste of cock yet and you’re acting like such a slut already.”

is so vile and mean with his teasing

spits onto your clit while fucking his fingers into you, curling them and stretching you open - gets such a kick out of the dumb look that takes over your cute face, jaw going slack and hips bucking up to meet the thrusts of his long digits

“god you’re so tight, how are you gonna be able to take my dick when you can barely handle this.”

will edge you towards orgasm again and again before ripping it away from you at the very last second, a smug grin on his face the whole time

loves when you start begging for him

and will literally laugh in your face and call you a ‘pathetic, cock drunk mess’

just absolutely loves overstimulating your cunt with his tongue, fingers, dick - literally anything!! as long as he reduces you to a trembling, babbling state in the end

slaps your clit when you misbehave, giving you a stern look and tutting lowly when you whimper in response 

likes fucking your mouth when he’s in a shitty mood

comes home and slams the door close in frustration, dick swelling against his jeans at the sight of you sitting all sweetly on the sofa waiting for him and before you know it he has his fingers tangled in your hair, yanking your head back and telling you to get on your knees like a good girl

feeds his cock down your throat and uses the grip on your hair to control your pace, making you take him deep until you’re choking around him

fucking loves the desperate you get when you’re on your knees for him

and will only fuck your mouth harder when he catches sight of your fingers slipping into your panties, playing with your nub as you suck on his tip

makes you watch as he gets himself off as punishment, ordering you to keep your hands splayed out on your thighs as he fists his cock - catching sight of your fingers twitching in need, just begging to dip back into your hot core

loves keeping you on a leash like the good puppy you are, the need practically seeping out of you and when he finally allows you to sink down on his veiny cock you start whining like a bitch in heat

it’s gonna be hard to fuck the dom out of this one

he’ll constantly fight the idea of being your sub, basically laughing in your face at the thought of you taking control

certainly wasn’t laughing when he wakes up the next day with his hands cuffed to your headboard, eyes narrowing when he spots you sitting all cutely at the end of the bed on your knees

he nearly loses it

[name], i swear to god if you don’t let me out right now i’m gonna fuck you until you’re begging me to stop.”

“don’t make promises you can’t keep minho.”

istg bro nearly crashes out

especially when you start teasing him about his swollen cock, red and angry and twitching all desperate to feel your pussy wrapped around it

“i don’t know minho, you defiantly seem to be liking this.”

and he swears as soon as he’s out of those cuffs your poor little pussy is gonna be wrecked

lowkey loves the sight of you using him though, lifting your pretty little body up before sinking back down achingly slow - warm walls closing in around him and all the fight he seemed to have earlier is nowhere to be found

gets so empty headed the more you torture him - threats turning into suppressed whines, his sneers going slack jawed with pleasure

gets so embarrassed when he cums as soon as he’s in you too

but you best believe as soon as he’s free he’s flipping you over and pounding into you until all your holes are stuffed full of cum and dripping

𝐒𝐄𝐎 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐈𝐍

his dom and sub tendencies constantly overlap like bro pick a struggle 

insanely big switch

like this man will be calling you the most vile shit one minute then cooing softly down at you the next, calling you his pretty girl as if his thick cock wasn’t drilling into you

however he’s extremely dominant when he wants to be

make this man the slightest bit jealous and you’re getting the roughest, nastiest dicking down of your life

make an offhand comment about how much you like watching jisung on stage and he’s dragging you to the nearest dressing room, bending you over some random surface and fucking into you with next to no prep

“you like watching jisung huh? when i’m done with you, you won’t be able to look at anyone but me you slut.”

will fuck you with his tongue and fingers until you can’t take it anymore, kiss swollen lips whining for him to relent yet your hips continuing to grind against his face - and as soon as you finally coat his face slick with your juices and slump against him he’s still pulling your hips towards his mouth, claiming you can take just one more

you love how big and strong your man is and he’ll definitely use that to his advantage 

presses you up against the wall and wraps your legs around his waist, buff arms holding you by the thighs while fucking his veiny cock past your folds

“god you’re so pretty, gonna let me wreck this little pussy, huh baby?” LIKE YES SIR

loves the way you gush around him when he talks to you like that, holding your wrists above your head in a tight grip - watching you struggle agains his hold is so funny to him, he can be so mean :(

loves the sight of you eating his cum idc

and when he cums he cums hard

he’ll literally be wrapped around your finger the moment you lick him clean off his mess, watching the way your pink tongue laps up his softening cock

sometimes after he’s filled your cunt to the brim with his load he’ll slip his soft dick out of your pussy, dipping his fingers past your bud - getting a kick out of the tired gasp that leaves you when he does - thighs itching to close shut before he’s bringing his hand up to your mouth, no words needing to be said before your wrapping your lips around the digits, sucking greedily on your mixed juices

bro nearly cums again just from the sight alone

s w e a r s he’ll treat you so good if you give him just one more orgasm

and how can you deny him when he asks all puppy eyed 🥺

can be extremely needy when he hasn’t seen you in awhile

and will literally do anything you ask 

especially likes when you grab his ass when he fucks you, trying to press him as close as possible to feel every dip and vein of his thick cock as he moans and groans about how good you feel around him

can also get a little teary eyes when you edge him, but he loves it really!!

something about reducing this hunk of a man to nothing but a whimpering, desperate mess makes him so much more fuckable

doesn’t even know what he’s saying half the time

constantly praises you

“fuck your pussy feels so good, could die like this and i’ll be happy.”

“you’re so pretty anent you baby? my pretty girl gonna give me one more orgasm? please, for me?”

bro thanks you when he cums

lowkey you have him wrapped around your finger and he’s not one bit ashamed

𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍

the biggest switch™️

soso degrading with you

but he’s just so pretty while doing it you can’t even find it in yourself to be mad

loves when you dress up in cute little frilly panties just for him to completely ruin them the second he gets his hands on you

and best believe this man loves getting nasty with it - covers you in spit, cum, scratches, everything..

man leaves his mark fr

and don’t ever try to tell him to cut it out cause he’ll just get 10x freakier with it just to spite you

loves getting all messy while eating you out

doesn’t care how much you whine or cry, he’s not stopping until the bed is slick with your cum and hole is properly prepped for his fat cock

king of overstimulation 

makes sure you earn every last orgasm too, if he doesn’t feel you’re being grateful enough he’ll leave you hanging on the edge of cumming again and again

and will literally laugh at you when tears paint your lash lime

can’t resist pulling out his camera and snapping a few pictures of you in this state

best believe that thing is filled to the brim of you covered in cum, playing with his cock, taking backshots - EVERYTHING!!

no matter where you are this man is ready to fuck the brat out of you at any given moment

give him lip while out drinking with friends? he’s dragging you to his care to fuck you in the backseat

doesn’t care if its broad daylight either, silences your protests with a rough kiss before pushing his member into you - fingers playing with your nub as he sets a brutal pace

your tits and thighs will be covered in teeth marks

and he just loves the embarrassed pout that takes over your face when you have to shamefully walk back into the bar

your little skirt doing nothing to hide the bruises he left

just knowing your pussy was sticky and used with his cum is enough for him to be hard the rest of the night

something about everyone around you knowing he just fucked the last coherent thought out of you makes him wild

calls you a ‘cock hungry bitch’ and loves slapping your face with the tip of his dick when you’re on your knees begging for it

istg there’s no chill with this man

every holes a goal with him and you best believe each one of them will be abused and stuffed full by the time he’s done with you

give you a lil kiss on the forehead when he’s done though and tells you how good you were for him :(

whenever you try to dominant him he’ll become so bratty and mean 

but won’t admit how much he enjoys you pinning his hands to the bed and fucking yourself on his cock like he’s nothing more than a walking, breathing rose toy

as soon as you show the slightest bit of slowing down though he’s back on you in an instant

cock nudging its way into your sensitive walls, mocking words being groaned into the crook of your neck as you close in around him  

“hmm, thought you could control me? gonna need to fuck that brat out of you.”

kiwi!hyunjin would be so mean lord

𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆

sub sub sub

the subbiest boy idc

he just wants to be good for you :( 

will literally do anything you ask as long as the end results in him painting your pretty pussy in his hot cum

whines and whimpers and slutty groans galore

doesn’t sftu

he’s just so pussy whipped

tease this boy in public and he becomes your bitch istg

just the risk alone is enough for his cock to feel heavy against his thigh

and your teasing promises of being able to feel you hot cunt wrapped around him later as long as he continues being a good little pup definitely isn’t helping

so proud of himself for not busting a nut right then and there 

drags you to the nearest bathroom and will b e g you to suck him off and he’ll do anything your ask of him 

“just this once before i go on stage please baby, i swear i’ll be so good for you.”

bro cannot be quiet to save his life, breathy whines echoing through the door without shame as he cums down your throat

doesn’t even care no one can meet his eyes after you both leave, he’s so head empty after you swallow his load, promising he can fuck you however he likes later if just be’s a little more patient and that’s all he can think about 

best believe he’ll be on his best behaviour 

you love watching him try to cover his erection all day, knowing he’ll fuck you like a rabbit as soon as he has you alone

definitely the type to have had cum in his pants from your teasing before

he just gets so excited 

and just the thought of your pretty lips wrapped around his cock alone makes him so flustered :(

gets off on getting you off truly

its pathetic really

there’s something so pitiful about watching him rut and fuck his cock against the mattress as he snuggles his head between those plush thighs of yours

such a giving sub - moans and groans and spits so messily against your heat just from the taste alone, his tip all red and needy and just begging to slip into your core but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t listen to you

is so patent too and completely loses all his cool when you finally sink down on him

whimpers all prettily when you call him your good boy

loves when you degrade him

“god, who knew such a pathetic mess could have such a perfect cock.”

“at least you’re good for something.”

cums within 10 seconds of being inside of you when you talk to him like this

the type to ask “just the tip🥺?” when you’re too tired to have sex

and how could you possibly not let him

can never control himself though and ‘just the tip’ turns into him ‘accidentally’ falling balls deep into you

he’ll apologise while continuing to fuck your pussy like an animal

doesn’t care if you’re on your period or anything, this man wants a taste of you at any given moment

really into cum eating

lowers his head down between your legs as soon as he slips out, eyes blown wide and fucked out

desperate just to get more of you

sucks needfully on your folds, eyes rolling into the back of his head and groaning deeply when the taste of your mixed juices seep out of your hole and onto his tongue 

loves when you stroke his cheek while riding him

telling him how pretty he is and how much you love him

bro is just so whipped

swears his main purpose in life is making sure your pussy is filled and being your sweet boy

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗

another switch but the complete opposite of hyunjin

big into praise and telling you how good you’re being for him

bro only has one mode and its gentle

worships your body in ways you didn’t even know possible

no inch of skin will be left untouched when this mans lips are on you

calls you pretty pet names like ‘sunshine’ and ‘angel’ while he’s fucking you all soft

no matter how hard he tries he can’t find the will in himself to go rough on you

and every time he tries it’ll literally last like 30 seconds before he’s slipped back into his soft dom role, fucking into you slowly while fond praises fall from his lips - stroking comforting circles on your thigh, keeping your trembling legs propped up on either side of him

loves being as close as possible to you, chest pressed against your own and lips attached to the crook of your neck if they’re not busy moaning against your own

can’t stop commenting on how pretty you are

super soft with you

however 

he’s so

pathetic as a sub

gets all blubbery and wet eyed when you don’t give him what he wants

just begging you to finally let him slip into your heat when you’re rubbing your pantie clad pussy against his naked cock

and he’s so needy and leaking precum onto the fabric, please just have a bit of mercy on this angel!!

tries his best to be patient when you tell him you’ll give him what he wants as long as he lets you have your fun, but this boy is just so desperate and tunnel visioned on your cunt

wanting nothing more than to nudge your panties aside and finally fuck up into you

can quite literally only think with his dick and will constantly rut his hips up to rub the tip of his swollen cock against your clothed clit

apologises falling from his lips in a sob when you scold him for being such a brat 

he just wants to be your good boy :(

he spoils you so much during sex

eats you out for hours on end, not even caring about his member straining against his stomach

will literally let you ride his face until it’s slick with your cum, and as soon as you try to lift yourself off he’s wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you back down

eats you out like its his last meal, deep groans vibrating against your lower lips and tongue and nose nudging against you as he leaves fat swipes against your pussy folds

if you reach down and start playing with his dick while riding his face he’ll have to restrain everything in himself not to bust right away

will blue ball himself as long as he knows you’re properly satisfied 

he’s just such an angel

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐌𝐈𝐍

such a mean dom

will play with you until you’re reduced to nothing but a teary, fucked out mess

likes watching you get yourself off

and will degrade you the whole time - teasing you with vile words as he watches your fingers fuck into your sloppy cunt

“bet you wish it was my cock filling you up huh? those little fingers aren’t enough to satisfy a cock hungry slut like you, right honey?”

and he can only chuckle lowly when you simply whine in response, eyes glued to the way he was fisting his cock on the armchair in the corner of your room

loves that he’s able to turn you into a twitching, withering whore with his words alone

wants nothing more than to fill you up but he’ll hold out for awhile before giving in, wanting you as desperate as possible for his dick before he finally gives it to you

and god seeing you splayed out, back arched and legs spread ready for his fat cock to split you open is enough to get him off

rips your hand away and f i n a l l y pushes himself past your sensitive nub - the gasp falling from your lip from the slight sting making him harden inside you

and he loves the tears that threaten to spill onto your cheeks, your fingers having done next to nothing to prep you for how thick and heavy his dick feels fitting snugly against your pussy walls

and he gives you no time to adjust either, pulling out just to slam right back in, the tightness and clenching of your cunt around him making him groan into the hot kiss he was planting on you

loves when you ride him too

but you’ll have 0% control best believe

he’ll literally fuck up into you like you were nothing but a fleshlight

and you’re ready for him every time, walls gushing in around him, milking him dry for all he’s got 

likes controlling how and when you’re gonna cum

and absolutely loves pulling as many orgasms as he can out of you before finally sinking his dick into you

especially likes dry humping, seeing you rut down against him like a bitch in heat, cunt melding against his clothes cock making your eyes roll in the back of your head 

nearly fills your womb with his cum at the sight

his hand always finds its way around your neck during sex

pushing down on your airways while drilling his cock balls deep into your cunt, eating up all the little gasps and chokes for air you let out while leaning into his chest - pussy clenching incredibly snug around him he swears he’s seeing stars

makes you clean up your mess every time, shoving his fingers past your lips and feeding you the mix of both your liquids

loves the way your greedily suck on them

makes him want to replace them with his cock again

will spit in your mouth if your misbehave 

and has no qualms leaving a swift slap against your ass if you decide to act bratty

the closest you’ll get to domming this man is if he hasn’t seen you in weeks cause of tour and he’s blue balled tf

maybe, just maybe, he’ll beg a bit 

“c’mon baby, haven’t you missed me? lemme see your pretty pussy.”

will go soft on you and worship your cunt, biting and sucking on your folds

but as soon as he sinks into you he’s falling back to his mean dom role 

loves when you fight back

“you little bitch, i’d be nice if i were you. wouldn’t wanna end up with no nice dick filling you up hmm?”

need him so bad oof

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈𝐍

extremely neutral

bro just wants to get his dick wet tbh

has no time for any sub/dom dynamics, he’s just down to fuck

likes when you tell him how good he is though

every whine and whimper of his name falling from your lips, crying about how good he feels stuffing you full only spurs him on to fuck you harder - dick prodding and pressing against all the sensitive parts of your pussy walls

might let you tie his hands together if you’re good

but becomes so desperate and whiney, hands itching out to touch you as you grind down on his thigh - the heat of your pussy searing his skin 

bro will literally rip out of those binds

flips you over and goes to town on your cunt

he’ll have you ruined when he’s done

he has such a high sex drive so whenever he goes away for months on end of tour he’ll still be whipped for that pussy

will get off solely on phone sex

loves the little gasps that slip past your lips when he tells you where to touch, imagining the hand he has wrapped around his straining dick was yours instead

“that’s it baby, curl your finger just a little more - just imagine it’s me instead.”

and your little choked moans you let out when you’re about to cum is enough for him to spill into his hand - wishing you and your hot little tongue was here to clean up his mess

always promises you how good he’s gonna fuck you when he gets home

and god that first fuck when he finally gets back!!

he’s so soft with you

fucking you over and over until you’re limp and sticky skinned in his arms, letting him drag his heavy cock against your snug walls

extremely giving, will eat you out and finger your cunt until you’re begging him to stop - your little nub twitching and raw from his stimulation

loves no matter how much he pushes you, you’re still eager for more

no matter how many hours he teases you, how many loads he spills into you you’re still ready and waiting for him to give you more

he expects you to return the favour though

likes to watch you take your time while playing his dick, hands fondling his heavy balls as your tongue lapped at his tip, sucking and kissing the swollen head

cradles your face as you lax your jaw around him, loving the way you look at him so fondly with your mouth stuffed full of cock

cums as soon as he feels you grinding down against his foot, pussy clenching around nothing and practically begging to get fucked

call him a horned out teenager but he l o v e s making out

his lips will be on yours at all time

hot, open-mouthed kisses and tongue exploring your mouth as he fondles your tits, cock abusing in and out of your little hole

very much boyfriend material even during sex

honestly he’s just happy to be there

© 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐬 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝. 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.

[multific]

Of Dog Tags and Love Letters

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon Riley never says “I love you” out loud. Instead, he writes letters, letters you were never meant to find.

Simon wasn’t the kind of man who said “I love you” easily.

He showed it instead.

He showed it in the way he pulled you close at night, in the way his hand always rested on the small of your back in public, in the way he made sure you always walked on the safer inside of the sidewalk.

His love wasn’t loud or obvious, but it was steady, always there.

Still, you wanted to hear it.

Just once.

Just once you wanted to hear him say it.

Simon had been gone on a mission for a few weeks.

You missed him, missed the way the house felt different when he was home.

Tonight, the quiet felt heavier than usual.

That’s what led you to the room, sitting on the bed, fidgeting with his dog tags.

That’s when you found them.

A small metal box, tucked away beneath an old shirt. You were trying to find a shirt which still smelled like him.

Inside the box, there were letters.

Dozens of them, all folded neatly, your name written on each one.

Your stomach flipped as you picked one up, your fingers shaking slightly as you unfolded the paper.

The handwriting was rough and rushed.

But it was undeniably his.

If you’re reading this, it means I didn’t make it back.

Your breathing stopped, but you kept reading.

I don’t say things the way I should. Never have. But you should know… you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re the reason I want to come back in one piece. If I don’t... just know that I love you. Always have, always will.

Your chest ached as you grabbed another letter.

It was the same.

So was the next.

You looked at the dates. Every letter is written before a mission.

Every single one, carrying the words he never said to your face.

I love you.

All of them, filled with meaning and care. All of them are written from the heart.

You pressed them to your chest, blinking back tears.

Three days later, he was home.

The second he walked through the door, you didn’t wait. You crashed into him, arms wrapped tight around his middle.

He let out a small grunt of surprise. “What’s all this then?”

“You’re an idiot,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

He huffed a quiet laugh, arms circling around you. “Good to see you too, Love.”

You pulled back, searching his tired eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Simon’s body tensed. “Tell you what?”

You lifted your chin. “About the letters.”

His whole body went still.

“…You found them.” His voice was quiet.

You nodded. “Yeah. And I had to find out from some scraps of paper that you truly love me?”

His jaw flexed like he was bracing for something. “I didn’t think I’d ever—” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “It’s not easy for me.”

“I don’t care if it’s easy,” you shot back, stepping closer to him. “Do you think this is easy for me? Waiting? Wondering if you’ll come home?” Your voice cracked. “Wondering if I’ll ever get to tell you—”

You stopped yourself, swallowing hard.

Simon’s eyes softened. “Tell me what?”

You exhaled. “That I love you too, you idiot.”

His breath hitched.

Then, before you could say anything else, he cupped your face in his hands, pressing his forehead to yours. His touch was warm, and grounding.

“Say it again,” he whispered, begged.

A smile tugged at your lips. You rested your hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. “I love you.”

His eyes closed, and he let out a slow breath like he was letting himself believe it. When he spoke again, his voice was deep, barely above a whisper.

“I love you too.”

And this time, he didn’t need a letter to say it.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[ddarker-dreams]

A Deal's a Deal.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, violence against minor characters, descriptions of anxiety, mentions of alcohol. Word count: 5k.

Next (TBA)

“... Sorry. This one’s no good either.” 

Sighing dejectedly, you sink into your seat. 

You can’t tell if your companion’s disappointed. He maintains a neutral countenance, betraying nothing of his inner thoughts. Still, you study him, awaiting some visual indication before moving the conversation forward. He must sense your intentions, for he catches your gaze and smiles. 

“Should we call it a day? You look tired.” 

“The hell? Isn’t it considered taboo to tell a lady she looks tired?” You grumble. “And here I thought you were Casanova incarnate. You’ve got to work on your charisma stats.” 

Chrollo shrugs halfheartedly. “What point is there if you’re immune to my many charms?” 

“Let’s be real — ‘many’ is overdoing it, a little humility won’t hurt. I commend your budding self-awareness, though. At least we’ve made progress on that front.” 

He hums, offering no rebuttal. You realize that you’ve perked back up, reinvigorated by his goading. He certainly knows how to get people going. Among his defining features, that’s one of the first you recognized; his uncanny way of orchestrating favorable outcomes. 

Sipping your preferred warm beverage, you canvass your surroundings. 

The café’s less crowded than when you came in. There are still a few students typing away on their laptops while consuming a concerning amount of caffeine. In the corner sits an elderly couple, whose order you overheard by virtue of the volume it was placed at — “Give me a regular coffee. Straight black, none of that ‘appaccino, grand venti’ nonsense. Decaf for my wife.” 

(You prayed for the barista’s sanity when he tried explaining the different ways ‘straight black’ could come). 

“... I am losing my touch, aren’t I?” Chrollo murmurs. You snap your head in his direction, having temporarily forgotten his existence. “You prefer older men?” 

You almost choke mid-sip. “Pleh…! That’s it, I’m retiring, good luck sorting your issues out.”

“You don’t mean that.” 

“How I wish you were wrong,” you deadpan. Lifting his phone off the table, you scroll through its contents. There’s nothing new to look at. “An exorcist, huh? You’re positive that’s a real thing?” 

“They exist. They’re just rare, as I’m sure you’ve noticed.” 

“I blame the Protestant Reformation.” 

The skin beneath his eyes wrinkles. “... Cute.”  

His compliment makes you frown. 

“Quit it with the flattery, already.” 

“Flattery implies a degree of insincerity, no?” He challenges. “You of all people should know when I’m being genuine.” 

“You make it sound like I’m a walking polygraph.” 

His lips part and close as he considers his response. “That isn’t how I view you.” 

This guy’s clever with his word choice, you think. Too clever.

Disliking where this conversation might go, you redirect. 

“This ‘Hunter’ site you’ve been using… is there any way for me to access it?”

“Feeling a bit impatient, are we?” 

There’s a patronizing lilt to this tone that has you inhaling sharply. Closing your eyes, you ball your hands into fists, willing your agitated mind to relax. Your goal feels so close. This future you never believed possible dangles above your head, only to recede as if you were Tantalus whenever you grasp for it. Needling Chrollo won’t get you any closer, but at least it gives you something to do, mimicking progress. 

“The Hunter site has various measures in place to prevent account sharing. You don’t want to end up on their radar,” Chrollo retrieves his phone and tucks it into his coat’s pocket. “While your enthusiasm’s admirable, I suggest you leave this part to me.”

You swallow thickly. “... Right.” 

“Are you upset?” 

“No, I’m not,” you rest your hands on your lap. “Just, y’know. Reminded that we’re from two different worlds.” 

Outside the café’s windows, individuals from all walks of life bustle about. Some are on their phones, others chatting with friends, or holding their partner’s hands. It’s a picturesque display of normalcy. They’re likely thinking about what to have for dinner, when to set their alarm for the following day, if they can squeeze out of plans they halfheartedly agreed to over the weekend; you know this because you aspire to live the same way. 

“You’re closer to mine than you think.” 

A fervent disagreement blazes then turns to ash on your tongue. There’s an unidentifiable quality to his stare — neither kind nor outright malicious — almost clinical in its effort to elicit a reaction. You stir in your seat. Despite your time together, he’s as much an enigma as he’d been upon your first meeting. Charming and courteous, yet lacking genuine warmth, like a faux candle. 

“Do you get some kick out of riling me up?”

“Maybe a little,” he admits. “Your expressive nature is endearing. I can’t help myself.” 

His words resonate with such clarity that you can’t help but wish he’d been a little dishonest. 

“I’m not a toy for you to entertain yourself with.” 

His smile makes you squirm. 

“I know you aren’t.” 

“Then what—” you cut yourself off, fearing what might occur if you continue your original line of questioning. “Man, you’re exhausting to deal with. Has anyone ever told you that you have an awful personality?” 

“Few get to be around me enough to comment on its quality.” 

“I’m counting down the days until I’m no longer a member of that inner circle.” 

Before Chrollo can respond, his phone audibly vibrates. Newfound excitement overwhelms you at the sound. He glances at the notification and nods, confirming your speculation. He places it in your eager hands. While you prepare, he steeples his fingers and leans forward, intrigued as always with your work. 

You relax your breathing. This entire process is based on intuition, chasing after faint sensations until your desired outcome manifests. A pliable force thrums through you — what Chrollo refers to as ‘aura’ — awakening from its dormant state. Mindful of your public surroundings, you keep your dominant hand beneath the table. Where there was once nothing, a three-dimensional object rests snugly against your palm. Buttons of varying utility jut outward along its perimeter. This small item, shaped like a cassette recorder, stirs antipathy in your heart. 

Holding down rewind, the cassette whirrs to life. You prepare to record the latest audio note sent in for analysis. 

Instant Replay (One More Time!).

These past few months have seen your ability frequently leveraged. It was your personal conviction to refuse its use, lest paranoia eat away at you. However, freedom from this bondage necessitates further entanglement. You’ve parted with your long-standing morals, primed to pick through the syllables of others for your own purposes. 

Right and wrong no longer concern you. 

All you care about is surrendering this loathsome ability to the man sitting across the table. 

-

The night air is unforgiving in its chill. It infiltrates your layers of clothing with laughable ease, seeping into your marrow and demanding that you shiver as recompense. Gritting your teeth, you pick up your pace, cursing the parking garage’s elevator for being out of order. You knew parking at your friend’s apartment complex was sparse, but this is a new record. 

The heels of your shoes click against the concrete staircase as you rapidly ascend. A pale, yellowish hue illuminates your path, the lights occasionally flickering. The moon must be feeling shy tonight, for it hides behind thick, stationary clouds, refusing the world its silvery guidance.

Upon arriving on the third floor, you hear an ominous crackle in the distance. 

The consequences are immediate. Intuition tells you to pause, goosebumps erupting over your flesh from head to toe. Darkness swallows your surroundings whole in inky blots. Blinking rapidly, your eyes struggle to adjust. You feel around for your phone and turn the flashlight on. The sudden loss of power perplexes you, did the building’s breaker trip? From what you can see, the rest of the street is unaffected. 

You’re about to resume your journey when you feel something cold press against your temple. 

“Don’t move,” a deep voice demands. The roar of a car’s engine echoes nearby, as does the hurried screech of tires. “Not so much as a fucking inch.” 

Anxiety sets your every nerve aflame. You go stiff as a corpse, and perhaps you may have been mistaken for one, if not for the thunderous pounding of your heart. The moisture in your mouth dries up. Tortuous seconds drag on, devoid of any further commands. You’re ready to offer up your purse, wallet, or anything else he insists on, but he’s eerily silent. 

A pair of approaching headlights blind you. 

Is this more than a robbery? You struggle to comprehend the nightmarish events. The man holding you hostage radiates agitation, shifting his weight from foot to foot. In doing so, the barrel drags along your sweat-slicked skin. His apparent sloppiness has you weak in the knees — it’s your life hanging in the balance, why is he acting like the situation is reversed? 

Abruptly, the vehicle veers off course, crashing into a line of parked cars. A terrible cacophony follows. Glass shatters, metal debris shrieks whilst scattering, and car alarms angrily sound in disunity. What you’re witnessing doesn’t feel like real life. Your disbelief is mutual, for the man holding you captive spews curses.

You hear a click by your side; the gun’s safety being disengaged. 

“Shit!” He maneuvers you in the direction of the crash like you’re a shield. “There’s no way we were followed, no way, we did everything perfect—” 

The man never finishes his sentence. 

There’s a wet gurgle, then a wheeze, as something warm splatters on you from behind. Bile rises up your throat as the wretched noises continue. He must’ve fallen to the ground, for you no longer sense his lumbering presence, or feel the cold kiss of metal on your skin. Regardless, you refuse to budge. You squeeze your eyes shut and tremble wildly. 

“There, there. You’re safe now. ♥” A rich baritone speaks from behind. 

His declaration comes out discordant, belying the reassuring contents. You bristle at the new threat that’s presented itself. If what came before was a house cat, then this is an apex predator, the king of the jungle. The air around him feels oppressive, almost noxious. Even without a firearm directed at you, your panic reaches its zenith, soaring to heights untraversed. 

“Hm? Still scared? Ah, that’s right,” he muses to himself. “Chrollo said you’re sensitive to dishonesty. This could be troublesome.” 

“You… you know Chrollo?” 

“So you’re not in a catatonic state — how reassuring.” 

Slowly, you turn around, sensing a distinct lack of ill intent. Flashlight in hand, you try to make sense of what you witness. The scene that greets you is gruesome beyond your wildest expectations. The man who you assume held you at gunpoint has collapsed onto the ground, his jugular slit clean. Blood gushes from the wound like a geyser, forming a crimson puddle around his head. His eyes are wide, bloodshot, nearly bulging from the sockets. Liquids ooze from every visible orifice and a foul odor rises alongside them. This pitiful creature could’ve been your end. Instead, he met his, departing this world in abject terror. 

Unexpectedly, his muscles twitch. Out of reflex, you jump back and yelp. 

“Rest assured, he’s dead as a doornail.” 

“Why…” you wet your dry lips, “What… what just…?” 

While you stumble over your words, the building’s power makes a triumphant return. The lights flash intermittently, then go steady, allowing you an unobscured vantage point. Before you stands a tall, bizarrely dressed individual, with bright red hair. His beady, yellow eyes have a predatory gleam to them that he doesn’t bother suppressing. He holds a playing card in his claw-like hands, the three of spades. 

It’s coated in fresh blood. 

Your eyes fall to the fatal wound on your assailant's throat, the gears in your head turning. 

You take a step back. 

“Let’s try this again, shall we?” With a flick of his wrist, the offending card disappears, though its memory burns strong. “I’m Hisoka, Chrollo’s… colleague of sorts. Now, there’s no need to introduce yourself. I’m well acquainted with you. ♥” 

Is that supposed to make you feel better? 

You couldn’t hide your suspicion if you tried. At the very least, there’s no indication that was a lie. However, his familiarity with you is a double-edged sword. If he’s crafty, he can outmaneuver your ability. Dishonesty isn’t black and white, there are loopholes to avoiding your detection. For instance, one can remain purposefully oblivious, lie by omission, or speak in vague terms. These gray areas pass you by as if you lacked this ‘sixth sense’ to begin with. 

He was lying when he said I’m safe now, you recall. But he doesn’t seem interested in harming me…? Something isn’t adding up.

After much deliberation, you ask, “So you just happened to run into me?” 

“Nope. I’ve been following you,” he freely admits. Your aghast expression makes him laugh. “What’s the matter? You were baiting me for the truth, were you not? You’re welcome to have it. ♦” 

In your heightened state of sensitivity, you sense multiple presences converging nearby. Security guards, if you had to guess. You weigh your options. If you stay here, you’ll undoubtedly be harassed for a story that explains the chaos. Telling the truth would land you in a straight jacket whereas deception guarantees cuffs. Leaving in your car is off the table too, you’d be dubbed an important witness. There’s no way you can claim you drove by the carnage without noticing anything. 

“I can help get you out of this debacle,” he offers. “We’re both seeking the same end — the return of Chrollo’s Hatsu. The latest recording I’ve obtained is most promising. So, I’d rather we don’t continue this conversation in prison. ♣” 

Hisoka takes a step forward and extends his hand.

The security guards are getting closer, you think. There’s no time left.

And so you make your choice. 

-

You didn’t think places like these existed outside of the movies, or maybe you just don’t get around enough. 

You’ve found yourself in what you can only describe as a biker’s bar. The decor is old-fashioned, slightly worn yet authentic. There are pool tables, too many televisions to count, and a functioning jukebox nestled in the corner. Rough-looking men wearing leather jackets make up the main clientele. Fortunately, it’s Hisoka who draws the most attention, his gaudy getup acting as a magnet for the eyes. No one pays you any mind. 

For the second time this week, a weirdo treats you to drinks. The main difference is that this is a depressant and not a stimulant. 

You take hearty sips to calm your nerves. All that happened feels so surreal, like a collection of grotesque images that would be blurred out in a documentary. This is exactly what you wanted to avoid. You want to be normal, untethered by the oddity that is Nen, the ‘world’ Chrollo inhabits. You decided long ago that nothing good can come from it. Maybe if you were more adventurous, prone to taking high risks for high rewards. 

But you’re not. 

Endless money, power, and influence don’t sound appealing. Sure, there’s an allure initially, until you consider reality. Lots of money means either lots of taxes or lots of tax evasion. You barely know what a W-2 form is, much less the hoops you’d have to jump through if your income exploded. Power and influence aren’t all they’re cracked up to be either. All that scheming to stay at the top would take away from what makes life truly worth living — reading Wikipedia articles and watching eight-hour-long videos analyzing a video game from two decades ago. 

“Holy shit,” you press pause on the cassette recorder. “This Abengane guy’s the real deal.” 

“Oh?” 

“He’s familiar with getting rid o’ Nen. During his… huh, what’s it called again… oh. Yeah. Audition. Durin’ his audition for Greedy Island—” 

“ —Greed Island.” 

You wave his correction off. 

“—Yeah, yeah, whatever. But, basically, he’s legit. How’d ya even come across this?” 

“Magic. ♥” 

You make a face. “Is everyone who uses Nen annoying?” 

“Some more than others.” 

Speak of the devil. Craning your neck, you’re met with piercing gray eyes. Unlike Hisoka, Chrollo isn’t dressed like he’s auditioning for the circus. Instead, he comes across as a guy who’s going to pitch the worst idea for a startup you’ve ever heard. He’s wearing a dark blazer with a gray turtleneck beneath it, along with white pants and black loafers. You’re about to make your joke known when something about Chrollo’s demeanor changes your mind. Intensity pours off him in waves, giving you pause. 

“Good news, boss. We found your exorcist.”

The title Hisoka uses to refer to him has you tilting your head. He did refer to himself as Chrollo’s ‘colleague,’ but the word boss implies hierarchy. 

“I heard,” Chrollo smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m surprised you’re not rushing back to Greed Island to track him down.” 

He slides into the booth beside you while never looking away from Hisoka. The tension brewing in the air perplexes you. Shouldn’t this news be a cause for celebration? You’ve helped Chrollo search for a Nen exorcist for months now. Chrollo’s been searching for a Nen exorcist for months now. You’re uncertain what reaction you expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. 

“All in due time. I’d hate to cut my time with your little assistant short.”

Hisoka makes a point of looking you up and down. 

Somehow, Hisoka has made Chrollo seem normal by comparison. Disliking the attention, you reach for your drink, only to notice how light it is. Have you already drunk that much? While inspecting the near-empty glass, you realize the room’s starting to feel warm. The stress of what you endured must’ve impaired your judgment. 

What time is it, anyway? Do I have work tomorrow? 

Your watch reads 2:05 a.m.

Shit. 

“I need— need to get going…” 

“Why the rush?” Hisoka questions. “Things were just starting to get interesting. ♥” 

You ignore him and stare Chrollo down, waiting for him to move aside so you can leave. Instead of getting up, he leans closer, pursing his lips. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. Heat creeps over your face, from your cheeks to your ears. There’s no denying that the bastard’s handsome. Your friends love teasing you about him for that very reason. They never believe your insistence on having a ‘strictly platonic’ relationship, some even have bets for when you’ll end up together. 

Maybe you would’ve considered it if you didn’t know about his Nen proficiency. 

There aren’t any readily available statistics for Nen, but if you had to guess, you’d say most of the population is ignorant of its existence. People who do know about the Hunter’s Association consider it a private enterprise that specializes in exploration and taking on contract jobs. According to Chrollo, this is by design. You can barely go about your day pretending there aren’t superhumans roaming the planet, doing all sorts of crazy nonsense. 

Society would plunge into chaos if the knowledge reached them. 

You hear what sounds like your name coming from underwater. 

Blinking sluggishly, you discover Chrollo’s hand on your shoulder. “Hm? What?” 

“I’ve been calling your name,” he speaks languidly, likely for your benefit. “Are you alright?” 

“Well…” you trail off, pondering the question. “... Mm, yeah, probably not. I gotta get home, and— god, my car— it’s still back there. I don’t want… I can’t…” 

The anxiety you thought you buried resuscitates itself. It’s dull compared to earlier, yet your breathing grows shallow and your hands feel clammy. Your intenses churn like a parasite had been embedded inside. Everything feels far away, as if you’re in a dream, physically present yet mentally adrift. 

You could’ve died. 

You almost died. 

You’d fought desperately to scrub your mind of this knowledge, but the bottle can only do so much. 

“Say, Chrollo,” with a nearly imperceptible motion, Hisoka summons a playing card between his middle and pointer fingers. “If I were to slice her pretty neck, what would you do?”  

The old-fashioned glass Hisoka had been sipping from cracks. 

Pressure invades the air like a thick, heady fog, so tangible in its potency, that the chatter elsewhere dies down. The sudden silence allows for the clinging of billiard balls to reverberate throughout. Patrons glance around, vaguely aware that something is wrong, yet ultimately unable to identify the source. This primal sense of foreboding evaporates as swiftly as it arrives. The lively atmosphere reemerges, until all present seem to have forgotten anything unusual ever occurred. 

Hisoka absentmindedly cleans up the glass shards, piling them into the corner while Chrollo drums his fingers along the table. Chrollo’s jaw is set and the skin between his eyes is pinched in contemplation. 

Hisoka lets out an exaggerated sigh. “This is turning into a bore. I was confident you’d lose your cool, even if just a bit…” 

“Pathetic.” 

The unexpected vitriol has them both turning their heads in your direction. Chrollo blinks, while Hisoka tilts his head, staring at you owlishly. 

He points to himself. “Me?” 

“Yeah, you! You’re like— one of those birds, those showoff birds… dancing with your colorful feathers… ‘nd stuff…” your speech isn’t the most coherent, unaided by the irritation that’s boiling your blood. You leer at him, fed up with everything, especially whatever schemes he’s roped you into. A rough picture is presenting itself, one stroke at a time. To Hisoka, you’re nothing more than glorified bait. You don’t know if he played a role in engineering the evening’s events, but it wouldn’t be a surprise. 

At the very least, he admitted to following you. Even if he was a third party, he could’ve disposed of the impending threat. Instead, he waited, exposing you to bloodshed for his own ends. You wish you could come up with a more scathing insult. Unfortunately, your temple is throbbing and clear enunciation grows harder as your body digests the liquor you inhaled. 

Hisoka looks at Chrollo. “I’m a bird?” 

“She’s calling your bluff,” Chrollo clarifies. “Had you intended to follow up on your threat, she’d know.” 

You’re glad Chrollo realized what you were going for. The diatribe sounded better in your head. Nonetheless, he’s communicated the essence of things, lacking as it is in panache. Hisoka hums, eyeing you like you’d make for a fine appetizer before the main course. 

“You must have kept that detail from me on purpose. What an intriguing ability. ♥” 

Chrollo brushes aside his comment and refocuses his attention on you. “I’ll drive you home.” 

“But my car—” 

“I’ll handle it,” Chrollo reassures. 

He slides out from the booth and stares at you expectantly. You get the sense that trying his patience isn’t a good idea; his encounter with Hisoka must have soured his mood. He helps steady you as you stand, securing his arm behind your back. Neither of you acknowledges Hisoka while making for the door, though you can feel his eyes tracking your every movement. 

Upon emerging from the bar, the cool air you deplored earlier feels like a godsend. You hear cars rushing up and down the street, indicating the presence of a highway. Other than that, you don’t recognize the area. It’s a small, decrepit outlet, featuring shops plastered with neon signs and bars over the windows.

Chrollo ushers you in the direction of a black, unmarked McLaren.

“If you’re gonna do all that, at least get a less basic color… like pink…” 

“I’ll give it some thought.” 

Once you’re in the passenger seat, he fixes the strap of your purse and then buckles you in. It isn’t long until you’re on the road. He stays in the slow lane, mindful to avoid abrupt motions. You recline back and rest your head, hugging your arms close to your body. At the next red light, he sheds his coat, draping it over your person. The cashmere fabric is soft on your skin, embedded with his cologne and warmth. This, paired with the low hum of the engine has your eyelids growing heavy. You try resisting the temptation. 

“Thank you.” 

“Hm? For what?” 

“... Are you serious?” you murmur. “For comin’ to get me.” 

“Of course.” 

Relief rushes over you as the surrounding area becomes recognizable. Traffic is nonexistent this time of night, it shouldn’t be but a few more minutes until you’re home. Then you can crash out on your bed and deal with the existential weight of reality in the morning. Work can fire you for all you care, you just want to sleep. If you were on your deathbed, you’re ninety percent positive they’d ask you to find shift coverage before you croaked. 

Chrollo pulls into your apartment complex, parking as close to the entrance as he can. 

You fiddle with your seatbelt, intending to make the rest of the trip by yourself.

He places his large, calloused hand over yours, preventing further progress. 

“... Chrollo?” 

He doesn’t respond. His thumb rubs slow, steady circles against your skin. You swallow a growing lump in your throat. He hasn’t been himself all night. Or, to be more precise, he’s showing you a side of himself he’s hitherto kept hidden. You always knew there was more to him than he let on. You never wanted to open that Pandora's box, lest your plans be jeopardized. Playing with fire has its risks, yet cauterizing your personal wounds took priority. You don’t know if you have the right to pray the rest of your being doesn’t go up in flames. 

“I assume you’re aware of my fondness for you?” 

“I— well…” you stumble over your words, then meekly ask, “Is now really a good time for this?” 

Chrollo lowers his head and smiles. “No, I suppose not.” 

An uncomfortable silence hangs in the air. 

“One more question, then I’ll let you go,” he looks up at you through thick lashes, an enigmatic gleam passing over his eyes. “Do I frighten you?” 

Your body tenses. He addresses you so softly, so sweetly, had you not witnessed his mouth moving, you would’ve mistaken his voice for belonging to another. Your facilities aren’t functional enough to properly process his query. Perhaps that’s the point — him cornering you at this vulnerable junction. You don’t get why. You don’t think you could even if you were sober. 

Chrollo, for his part, seems to acknowledge he won’t get far in your current state.

Or maybe he gleaned his answer.

He lifts your hand to his lips, where he presses a lingering kiss. You can’t bring yourself to be the first to pull away. He lingers a while longer, as if stuck in a trance. When he does part, the skin tingles in his absence.

“I’ll be in touch.” 

-

For the past week, you’ve carried on as if nothing ever happened. 

It’s easier this way. There are instances where your performance is threatened, like when you ran across a news article detailing the ‘grisly murder of two men at a parking garage on 9th St,’ yet these lapses can be smoothed over. Ignore, distract, forget. This cycle lends you a credence of normalcy and eases you back into everyday life. 

You haven’t seen Chrollo since that night. You suppose he’s preoccupied with his arrangements to meet the Nen exorcist. While you don’t know the specifics, you imagine he’ll have to meet this Abengane in person. In the recording, he addressed two men — named Battera and Tsezguerra — where he proved himself qualified to enter ‘Greed Island.’ Aside from a few anonymous forums, information on this mythical game is sparse. All you know is that the price is exorbitant and that Battera obsessively tracks down every copy available. 

Wherever there’s Nen, things inevitably get weird, you think.

You begin tidying up your apartment. First is drying off the dishes, which saw their first use all week for a much-needed home-cooked meal. While doing so, your phone vibrates. You throw the damp rag down in a hurry and check the screen. All you find is a notification about your upcoming menstrual cycle. Sighing, you put your phone down on the counter. 

Chrollo had been truthful when he promised to take your Hatsu for assisting in the return of his. A part of you is relieved by his absence; the other is frustrated. You want to get this over with. It’s like when you have an appointment later in the day and spend the time leading up to it in a limbo, not wanting to get involved in anything until the commitment is over. Is it possible he already took it? Curious, you hold your dominant hand out. You haven’t used Instant Replay since the night at the biker’s bar. 

Aura surges through you, concentrating at the palm of your hand. Much to your disappointment, the light pink cassette tape appears. Maybe it no longer works? As a test, you rewind the recording of the audio Chrollo provided at the café. Once primed, you press play, listening attentively for certain cues. 

“It is my great honor to profess that I, Lilith, can purge you of any ailment, even scourges derived from Nen — for a small donation of…” 

The self-proclaimed Mistress of Panaceas sounds increasingly garbled as her lies surface. Clicking your tongue, you deactivate your ability. Everything remains operational. You don’t know what you expected, you’ve overheard the telltale sounds of lying the past few days. It just hasn’t been directed at you, which weakens the effect. 

Will you really have to endure this the rest of your life? 

Shortly into resuming your task, there’s a knock at your door. 

You ignore it, not in the mood to deal with a neighbor asking for something. After thirty or so seconds, there’s another round of knocking. You suppress a groan. Why can’t the world sense that you’re moody and let you brood in peace? Trudging over, you try to put on a pleasant face, unwilling to lash out on others even if you’re in a terrible mood. Erring on the side of caution, you glance out the peephole. 

Upon doing so, you almost lose your balance.

…

He must’ve decided he kept you waiting long enough.

[jungwnies]

under pressure - lando norris (ln4)

୨ৎ : pairing : lando norris x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : you and lando have been best friends since childhood, but as lando’s struggles grow and his relationships with others become more public, you finds yourself battling your unspoken love for him.

୨ৎ : genre : romance, drama, friendship ୨ৎ : wc : 684

୨ৎ requested ୨ৎ // ୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ // buy me a ko-fi ☕️

lando walked into his apartment, looking completely wiped out. his hair was a mess, his eyes were barely open, and his shoulders were slumped like the weight of the world was on them. you didn’t even have to ask what kind of day he’d had. you could see it in his face. it was written all over him.

you were already sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone, but when he stepped inside, you put it down without a second thought. he barely even looked up when he dropped his bag to the floor and collapsed onto the couch next to you.

"long race?" you asked softly, glancing at him.

he didn’t even respond right away. he just let out a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his messy hair. "i can’t even remember the last time i slept," he muttered, his voice rough.

you didn’t say anything for a moment. you knew when to give him space, and you also knew when he needed someone. he’d always needed you, just like you’d always needed him. but lately, things had started to feel… different. he was still the same lando you’d grown up with, but there was something in the air between you two now—something you couldn’t ignore, no matter how much you tried.

you let the silence hang for a while. you didn’t need to push him to talk. lando would tell you when he was ready.

“you don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” you said quietly, your voice calm, reassuring. you just let your hand rest on the couch between you, your fingers lightly brushing the fabric. he knew you’d always be there for him.

after a few seconds, he let out a shaky breath, and you saw his eyes shift, like he was thinking about something he didn’t know how to say.

“it’s just… been hard,” he finally said, his voice cracking a little.

you could hear the exhaustion in his tone, see it in the slump of his shoulders. he didn’t even need to say anything else for you to know exactly what he meant. the race, the pressure, the constant noise of being in the public eye. you knew it was all getting to him. and if you were honest, you knew he wasn’t just tired from the race. it was everything that had been weighing on him lately.

“you’re always here for me,” he said after a beat, his eyes flicking over to you. there was something soft in his gaze, like he was grateful, but also a little sad. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

you smiled, but it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. “you don’t have to do anything alone, lando. you know that.”

he sighed and leaned back against the couch, his eyes starting to drift closed. you wanted to reach out, to touch him, to comfort him, but there was a part of you that held back. you’d been in love with him for so long now, but you’d never said anything. you thought he didn’t feel the same, and the last thing you wanted to do was make things awkward between you two.

so, you just sat there, close enough that you could feel his warmth, but far enough that it didn’t feel like you were pushing your luck. you kept your feelings hidden, hoping he would never notice.

lando shifted slightly, turning his head toward you. his voice was softer now, almost a whisper. “thanks,” he said, his eyes finally opening and meeting yours.

you nodded, your throat tightening. “always.”

and for a second, it was just the two of you, like it always had been. you could hear the quiet hum of the apartment around you, but in that moment, everything else felt distant. lando was right there, close to you, and you tried not to think about how much you wanted more.

but deep down, you knew you couldn’t have more. you were his best friend, and that was enough. or, at least, you tried to convince yourself that it was.

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[jherbogf]

2 you

summary y/n has been in a complicated relationship with joe burrow for months. as he grows more distant and conflicted, she’s forced to confront her feelings and the uncertainty of their connection.

pairing joe burrow x fem!reader

words around 6.7k

inspired by 2 you, mariah the scientist

you had always been a woman of focus. your days were a blur of work. late nights and early mornings. it wasn’t glamorous, but you loved it. having your own money, your own freedom.

you could say one of your favorite things to do was going out with your girlfriends. sometimes, in the highest cincinnati spots. spots those who obviously were packed with players from the city’s most famous team: the cincinnati bengals.

in one of those night outs, your eyes crossed icy blue ones, which naturally, made your world turn differently.

joe burrow had that effect on people—his eyes, calm yet intense, always made her second guess her emotions. he wasn’t the kind of guy who wore his feelings on his sleeve. his smile, reserved for those who really knew him, often made her feel like she was still trying to figure him out. and for a while, you didn’t mind.

but over time, something shifted.

you first saw it after the bengals’ rough stretch of games. they were struggling—0-4 at the start of the season. and it weighed heavily on joe. at first, you made excuses for him. “he’s under a lot of pressure” you told yourself. “he’s focused on the game”. but as the weeks went on, it wasn’t just the stress of the game; it was something else. he started becoming more distant, not in the physical sense, but emotionally.

you noticed it during one of your quiet dinners. you had tried to start a conversation, something that used to come so naturally. but now, his answers were short, distracted, as if his mind was somewhere else. “maybe he’s tired”, so you thought.

you noticed the tension grew in small moments, too. the texts that went unanswered for hours. the way he avoided eye contact when you asked about his day. you didn’t push him for answers, but you also couldn’t ignore it. and still, you told yourself: “it’s just the season, he’s got a lot on his plate. he’ll come around”.

but it wasn’t just the season. and you knew it, deep down.

one evening, after another loss, you waited for joe at his place, like you constantly did.

the door opened, and he didn’t even look at you. he simply passed by, heading straight to the couch, still in his post-game conference clothes. you stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of the distance between you, the invisible wall that had been built over the past few weeks.

“how are you?” you asked. trying to be as careful as possible.

he didn’t answer at first, eyes glued to the TV as highlights from the game played. so you tried again, desperate for some closure. “joe?”

he looked up at you then. gaze distant, as though he wasn’t really seeing you. like you weren’t even there. “i’m fine,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “i just want to forget about it.”

you couldn’t stop herself. you desperate for closure, for something. “this season’s been pretty tough. i’m sorry”.

“yeah,” he replied, tone flat. he glanced at you, for a split second. barely acknowledging you. barely acknowledging your countless tries to get him to just talk to you.

you understood him. how could you not? but it was like he didn’t see you. didn’t see you trying to just help.

it stung, more than you cared to admit. you had been there for him through the losses, his recovery, the endless scrutiny. but now, you felt like you were being shut out.

you wondered if this what it always felt like, doubting your own self. you had to ask yourself whether you were being too much. if you were clinging to him, forcing something when he just wanted to be alone. but, were you? it for sure didn’t feel like you were. you couldn’t help but feel like you were always the one trying to break through, but he never let you in.

so, later that night, after the game was over and the house was silent, you lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. the uncertainty was eating away at you. “what is happening? you thought. joe had pulled back in a way that made you feel like you were chasing after something you could never quite reach.

and a few days later, as if on cue, it happened again.

you were sitting close to the sidelines at the bengals’ practice, waiting for joe to finish up. the tension in the air was thick—joe wasn’t just focused on the game, but on something else. as the team broke up, you waited for him in the same place, alongside mike gesicki’s and trey hendrickson’s wives, trying to catch his attention. he glanced at you, going back into the facility, probably to get washed up.

but you weren’t focusing on what he’d go after he went back there. you were focusing on how he he didn’t smile. didn’t forge any reaction at you. just one glance. and you could feel your heart slowly cracking, day by day.

you let it go, trying to enjoy the girls’ company until the players were out again. it worked, for about the 45 minutes time in between being happy, talking to them, and then feeling ashamed and like you didn’t belong in joe’s side, approaching his car in the parking lot.

“how’s the wrist?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but still with an edge of concern in your voice.

he shrugged, serious, emotionless. “it’s fine. just sore. nothing I can’t handle.”

“three empty phrases.” you thought. it was the same answer he’d given you every time, and every time it hurt more. he was shutting you out—shutting you out, just like he had done with everything else in his life. so you sighed, helpless and tired.

“i don’t know what’s going on with you,” you said, voice a little sharper than you had intended, moved by her feelings. “but i’ve been trying to be here for you, joe. don’t you get that?”— his eyes snapped to yours, hard and unyielding. it was the most emotion he had given you in months.

“i don’t need you to ‘be here for me,’ y/n,” he replied, his tone cutting. “i’m not your charity case. you’ve got your life. i’ve got mine. that’s it. don’t mix it up.”

you froze. the words stung like a slap. you felt the air leave your lungs. you didn’t know what was worse—the fact that he was pushing you away, or that he didn’t see how much you cared. you took a step back, heart pounding.

“maybe I’ve been too much,” you said, more to yourself than him. your voice trembled, but you didn’t let him see the hurt. you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction. “maybe I’ve asked for too much. but don’t you dare act like I’m not trying.” you told him, firmer.

joe didn’t respond. his face softened for a moment, but the distance between you only grew.

you knew that you were at a breaking point.

you had tried for so long to make things work, to be there for him, but it wasn’t enough. not when he couldn’t open up, not when he kept you at arm’s length. and you knew.

it didn’t surprise you that a few days later, after another devastating loss, joe was quiet. you sat beside him on the couch, your heart heavy with the weight of everything that had been left unsaid.

you needed to talk. you couldn’t just keep pretending.

“joe, we need to talk,” you said, voice gentle but firm. you were rightly putting yourself first this time. listening to yourself.

he didn’t even look at you. “i don’t feel like talking right now,” he muttered.

and your heart sank. “it’s always like this”, you thought. you had always been the one to initiate, the one to ask the hard questions. But he never answered. he never listened. he never gave you the time. he never even asked.

“you can’t just keep shutting me out,” you said, either way. “i’m not asking for much. but I need more than this. I need more than your silence. I need more than pretending everything’s fine.”

you knew. you knew you deserved more. you knew.

joe’s eyes finally met yours then, and there was something… cold in them. “you’re too much, y/n. always asking questions, always demanding more. I don’t have time for this. I don’t need someone breathing down my neck all the time.”

you couldn’t react. you were looking at the ground, blinking, eyes wide, mouth shut. it hit you like a tidal wave. you could hear your heart clinking. but it didn’t break like you thought you would. it was like someone had hit their nail on it, just to hear if it would make a sound.

you sat there for a moment, stunned. thinking, remembering all the times he shut you out. all the times he told you he didn’t need her concern. all the times he didn’t give even an ounce of the love you gave him back to you.

so you stood up. and you walked away. you weren’t sure what you were doing anymore, but you knew one thing for certain—you couldn’t keep being the one who tried to fix what was broken. you couldn’t be the one covered in dirt, couldn’t be the one whose heart clenched when a kid cudi song played.

you weren’t sure where things had gone wrong, but you knew you couldn’t keep pouring yourself into a relationship that drained you. the grief she felt, after her shock passed, wasn’t for joe and “what could’ve been”, but for herself. who almost lost her spark. who almost lost her own self, trying to fix him.

he was lost. he was unfocused. you were sure he hoped you wouldn’t notice, but you did. after all those times, you did. so you layed it in a grave. and you left.

left his apartment, physically, but his mess, emotionally. you didn’t know if he had called you, cause you weren’t really listening.

and as you drove away, you didn’t look back. focusing only on what was in front of you, reserved for you. not him.

[harrywavycurly]

Worth the Fight: Bad Energy

Masterlist: Here

CW: language, mentions of baby stuff, pregnancy symptoms and one moment where Ethan is mean (not to you lol)

A/N: I feel like y’all are working your way to a good place and maybe y’all can be friends soon if nothing happens that could potentially get in the way?👀✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r

Summary: You and Harry have sort of an odd routine going and the two of you begin discussing baby names and rocking chairs✨

“Morning.” Harry softly greets you when you open your apartment door, you give him a small smile as you move out of his way so he can enter your apartment allowing him to head straight for your kitchen. You let a yawn escape you as turn so you can follow him after closing the door but Harry pauses right before he enters the archway of your kitchen and turns his head to look at you over his shoulder. “Don’t forget to-”

“Lock the door.” You finish for him with a tired sigh making Harry have to bite his bottom lip to keep the soft chuckle to himself. He enters the kitchen while you turn and quickly lock the door so you can join him and take your usual spot at your little table while he busies himself with cutting fruit and the random veggies.

It’s been almost two and a half weeks since Harry came over to your house far too early in the morning just to make you some green juice and since then he’s been coming over every other morning. The only difference is he now changes what he puts in the juice depending on how you’re feeling about certain fruits or vegetables and he also secretly adds a bit of protein powder because he knows you’re in more of a snacking stage and the odds of you sitting to eat a whole meal are slim. Most of the time the two of you engage in some simple small talk while you sit at the table and watch him cut things up, not getting too deep about anything minus Harry asking questions such as how you slept and if you’re feeling okay or if your ankles are still swollen.

“Do you want pine-”

“Oh please don’t even mention that evil fruit.” You say with a groan making Harry just nod as he puts the pineapple back in your fridge and grabs a mango instead. “I don’t understand why something that tastes so good has to hate me so much.” You pout as you place your chin in the palm of your hand while your other one rests on your bump as you lean over your small kitchen table.

“I’m guessing it’s still causing you some reflux issues then?” He asks as he looks around your fridge for the bag of spinach he just brought over the other day.

“Yes but sometimes I think it’s worth it but not today.” You explain with a yawn making Harry take a half step back from the fridge so he can turn his head and look at you with a raised brow. Normally you’re a bit sleepy when he comes over for your morning juice before you head off to work or he has to go run an errand or attend a meeting but he’s never seen you this tired before and it makes him a little concerned about how well you slept last night.

“How did sleep last night?” He questions as he hears you let out a small sigh as you close your eyes and give him a shrug.

“I don’t know if I actually got any sleep last night so I guess that would mean I slept horribly? No that sounds a bit dramatic. I’d just say I slept not very well.” Your mumbled rant like explanation makes Harry chuckle as he shakes his head and closes the doors to your fridge, he places the fruits and veggies for you juice on the counter near the cutting board and then turns so he’s fully facing you.

“Well come on then.” You slowly open your eyes just as Harry takes a few steps towards you with his hand out. “You can drink your juice in bed and take a nap afterwards or something. But you need rest. It’s important.” He tries to not sound bossy or rude because he knows the two of you are in a weird place right now and he doesn’t want to do or say anything that would make you upset enough to kick him back out to just being allowed in your hallway.

“You’re just trying to get me out of the room so you can put weird stuff in my juice.” You accuse him with a playful glare as you sit up and take his hand so he can help you get up from the chair.

“You caught me.” He jokes as he wraps his hand around your smaller one before taking a step back so you have room to stand in front of him. “I’m just trying to load your juice up with things you hate.” He adds as you let go of his hand and head out of the kitchen, he stands there for a moment not sure if you want him to follow you or not since really the only rooms he’s ever been inside of in your apartment are the living room and kitchen.

“Can you grab my water for me please? I left it on the counter.” You call over your shoulder as you make your way to your bedroom. Harry doesn’t hesitate as he turns and grabs your green and pink water bottle off the counter and walks out of the kitchen into the living room.

He catches a glimpse of you just before you enter your bedroom at the end of the hallway and for some reason he feels nervous as he stands there with your water bottle in his hand. For a moment he worries that you’re only being this relaxed about him entering your bedroom because you’re exhausted and don’t really know what you’re doing or saying. But then again he knows you well enough by now to know you are usually always the one who tries to be polite and civil out of the two of you, it’s usually him that messes it up with his unkind words or actions. So he just shakes off his nerves and heads down the hallway to leads to your bedroom, he can’t help but pause at the door on his right that he knows is your spare bedroom because you told him one morning how you’re happy you splurged for the two bedroom unit when you moved in so the twins won’t have to share a room with you.

When you get to your bed you look over your shoulder and when you don’t see or hear Harry you quirk a brow as you turn and take a few steps towards your bedroom door. You poke your head out and you can’t help but smile when you see him standing in front of the twin’s room, you take a few more steps so your about halfway between where he’s standing and your bedroom.

“You can look inside if you want.” Your voice being so close to him makes him jump a bit causing the ice in your water to clink against the metal sides of your bottle.

“Oh uhm I don’t-”

“You don’t what? Want to see where your children will be sleeping and playing while they’re with me? That’s rude.”

“Well when you put it like that then okay yeah I’ll take a look.” You chuckle as you reach for your water bottle so you can take it from him, Harry chews on his bottom lip as he turns to look at you and when you just give him a reassuring nod as you take a sip of your water he places a hand on the doorknob and twists it open.

Harry feels his heart beat faster as he takes a step inside the room, he obviously knows that you’re carrying twins meaning two babies but seeing two cribs set up really seems to make it feel all the more real for him. He steps further inside the room and places a hand on one of the cribs as he looks around the room. The walls are a soft white and to no surprise you’ve hung up a little bookshelf in the corner that has a few books already on it, the cribs are also white and when he looks down he sees you picked out matching sheets for them that have little story book animals on them such as Pooh Bear and Petter Rabbit.

“It’s not done yet but sometimes when I can’t sleep or I’m restless I come in here and-”

“Did you put these together yourself?” He asks as you walk over to the dresser on the opposite side of the wall the cribs are on.

“I did yeah.” You answer as you turn and look at him, his eyes are a little wide and you know he wants to say something about how that couldn’t have been good for your back or your ankles. “It wasn’t very hard and it didn’t take long.” You explain as you place a hand over your very obvious baby bump, giving it a soothing rub as you walk over to the bookshelf.

“I haven’t uh-I haven’t gotten cribs or really anything yet.” He informs you as he runs his hand that’s not gripping the side of the crib through his hair as all of a sudden a feeling of being unprepared and overwhelmed with things he needs to get begins to hit him like a tidal wave.

“That’s fine Harry these were just on sale so I grabbed them. You have plenty of time to-”

“What if they come early and I don’t have anything still? Or what if they hate the cribs I pick and never want to sleep in them or-” A soft hand landing on top of his that’s gripping the crib makes him stop his rambling. He blinks a few times as he tries to calm his breathing down before he looks over at you and sees you giving him a small yet comforting smile.

“They’ll like whatever you pick Harry because you’re their dad and they’ll know you picked it just for them. Now I’m sure there’s going to be days and nights they don’t want to sleep but it won’t have anything to do with the cribs you get them.” You do your best to reassure him and ease him away from the edge of the small anxiety attack you know he is mere moments away from having.

“Would you uhm maybe want to help pick some things out for them?” He knows he could ask his mom or sister to help him but honestly for some reason he feels like picking the furniture for his nursery would be a good experience for the two of you to have.

“Sure oh actually your mom invited me shopping tomorrow she wants me to help her pick some crib sheets so would you want to just join us for that and we can look at cribs and stuff as well?” You feel a tinge of nervousness as you tell him about the plans you made with his mom, not sure if he is aware that she reaches out to you to see how you’re doing and even comes over for the occasional cup of tea.

“She told me about the two of you having plans tomorrow.” You let out a sigh of relief as you move your hand off of his and place it back on your bump. “Are you sure you would be okay with me joining you? I don’t want to get in the way.”

“She’s your mom Harry so of course I don’t mind you joining us.” Harry watches you closely as you speak so see if he can find any hints that you’re lying just to save yourself from hurting his feelings. But when you just stare at him for a few moments before taking another sip of your water he knows you’re being honest, you really don’t care if he comes with the two of you tomorrow and oddly enough he doesn’t know how to feel about the fact he’s going to be shopping for his twins with their mother and his mother.

“Okay I’ll uhm call her later to set up the details.” You just nod as you turn and head for the door while Harry still stands with a hand on the crib closest to it. “I’ll uhm go-go get started on your juice.” He fumbles over his words as he finally releases his grip on the wooden frame of the crib and turns around so he can see you standing in the doorway with your back towards him.

“Okay but don’t try to sneak any carrots into it this time or I’ll probably start crying.” You warn as you take a step into the hallway.

“Carrots are good for-”

“I don’t care what they are good for Harry they ruin the juice and make it a disgusting color.”

“The juice is already a gross color? It’s green.”

“Says the man with big dumb green eyes and green shorts on?” To that Harry decides to ignore your comments about his eyes and takes a moment to look down at his outfit, having forgotten he came here from the gym so he is in fact wearing green athletic shorts and a gray tank top with his neon colored running shoes.

“Just go lay down and I’ll bring you your carrot free juice okay?” You give him a smug smile as he stands at the end of your hallway near the living room with a hand on his hip while you stand in your bedroom doorway with your water bottle in one hand and the other also on your hip.

“Okay.” Harry rolls his eyes at how happy you sound all because he agreed to not add any carrots to your juice, he watches as you turn and enter your bedroom and waits a few moments till he hears the sound of your water bottle being placed on your nightstand before he turns to go to the kitchen.

“Oh and Paris is in the living room!” You shout as you fold your covers back so you can climb into bed, wanting to give Harry a heads up on the orange cat’s whereabouts since he still doesn’t seem to like Harry therefor thinking it’s okay to still use his ankles as little chew toys.

As if on queue Harry hears the all too familiar sound of a bell jingling from behind him just as he begins to cut up the mango that he decide would be a good substitute for the pineapple in your juice. He freezes the moment he feels the soft hair and slightly pointy whiskers rub against the back of his calf, Paris’s go too move before he sinks his teeth into the flesh right above Harry’s ankle bone. Harry takes a deep breath in preparation for the pain he knows he’s about to endure and sure enough maybe two seconds later he feels Paris bite down on his ankle as he starts to purr while Harry releases his breath and lets out a groan.

“Fuck sake Paris how long are we gonna be doing this mate? I’ve been here how many times now and you still don’t like me? I’m making your mom homemade green juice for Christ sake what else do you want from me?” Harry rambles on as he looks down at the orange cat who is just sitting there staring at him all innocently as if he didn’t just make a meal out of his poor ankle.

“One day you’re going to like me. I just know it.” Paris tilts his head to the side and looks up at Harry for a brief moment before he decides he’s done in the kitchen and walks off leaving Harry standing there with a half cut up mango in one hand and a knife in the other.

Harry isn’t sure if he’s dreaming or not, because surely there’s no way you actually said what he just heard come out of your mouth.

“I’m serious.” Your simple statement answers his question as you cross your arms over your chest and stare at him with a very stern look in your eyes that he’s never seen before, granted he hasn’t been around you for very long but still he’s never seen you look so serious.

“It’s a rocking chair how can it be haunted?” He wonders as he looks at the wooden chair in question that’s currently sitting in between the two of you.

The two of you are in the middle of a antique shop looking for some things to go on the wall in your nursery and also to see if they have any baby furniture that could potentially go in the nursery at Harry’s house. While it upset you a bit it’s no surprise to Harry that his mom suddenly “wasn’t feeling well” as soon as she found out you had invited Harry to tag along on today’s shopping trip, he knows very well she’s fine at home on her couch watching her shows and researching things for her garden. And while normally Harry would be annoyed at her subtle ways of trying to interfere in his personal life he’s thankful his mom isn’t here to witness him look absolutely lost on why the mother of his children thinks used rocking chairs can be haunted and refuses to buy one.

“Not haunted but it could hold bad energy from the last person who used it.” You explain for the second time as you scrunch your nose up while looking at the chair. “What if the last person who sat in that chair was a weirdo? Or was a serial killer?” Harry rolls his eyes at your ridiculous reasoning for why the chair could have bad energy.

“Oh come on what are the odds Ted Bundy used to rock his kids to sleep in this rocking chair.” Harry playfully argues as he points to the chair while you drop your hands from your chest so you can reach over and smack Harry’s arm with an annoyed huff making him glare at you.

“Why would you say that? Now we really aren’t getting it you asshole.” You snap as you give his arm one more smack before turning around and heading further down the aisle of old vintage looking furniture. Harry lets out a sigh as he runs a hand over his face because it’s only been half an hour since the two of you started this shopping trip and at this rate he’s not sure if the two of you will still be on the decently good terms you’ve been on the past few weeks by the time it’s over.

“Are you really mad? I know you’re more emotional than normal right now but it’s just a rocking chair and it doesn’t have to go in your house it can go in mine.” He tries to reason with you as he follows behind you down the aisle, he hears you let out a scoff at he mention of you being emotional and he instantly knows that wasn’t the correct thing to say.

“It’s not just a rocking chair Harry.” You quickly turn around to face him making him take a step back so he’s out of reach making you unable to smack him just incase you get the itch to do so again. “It’s where you put your babies to sleep while singing a lullaby and where you soothe them when they are upset and-and where you sit and read to them before bed and I just don’t want one that someone has already had all those special moments in. Even if it’s not going in my house I know my babies will still be sitting in it with you and I just-”

“Okay okay we can get you a brand new chair that no one has ever sat in just-just stop crying.” Harry’s words are rushed as he takes a small step towards you so he can place his hands on your shoulders, you didn’t even realize you were crying until you finally feel a few tears roll down your cheeks. You sniffle a few times as Harry bends his knees so he can be eye level with you. “I promise you will get whatever rocking chair you want. Just please stop crying.” He’s practically begging you at this point and giving your shoulders some gentle squeezes as you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan

“Oh sorry am I embarrassing you?” Your voice is a mixture of harsh and watery making Harry let out a sigh as he stands up and drops his hands from your shoulders. “Because news flash Harry pregnant people cry a lot okay?” He doesn’t want to start a fight with you so he just stands there and lets you take your frustration out on him because it was his poor choice of words that caused this reaction from you in the first place. “It’s not like I can control it either. I just cry all the time over the stupidest stuff.”

“I just don’t like seeing you cry.” You almost don’t hear his admission as he looks down at his feet while rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to make you upset I didn’t know you uhm had such strong feelings about rocking chairs that’s all.” He explains as he looks up at you making you let out a huff as your arms fall to your sides.

“It’s okay.” You tell him as you adjust the strap to your purse, Harry watches as you make a face of slight discomfort and he can’t even stop himself before he’s reaching over and grabbing the strap, he raises an eyebrow as his silent way of asking if this is okay and when you just let the strap of your bag fall into his hands he smiles as he takes your giant purse and puts the strap over his shoulder.

“I read somewhere that most people hyper fixate on one thing during their pregnancies and I just think mine has been the nursery. Mainly the furniture in it. So that’s why I uh had my-my little moment about the rocking chair.” You tell him as a way to help him get a better understanding on what’s going on in your mind, since you know having a breakdown in the middle of a store isn’t ideal especially for him. Mainly because anyone within a few feet of the two of you would be able to tell instantly who he is thanks to the short sleeves of his worn out Rolling Stones shirt letting his more recognizable tattoos be on display.

“Gemma’s was the car seat. She read every single safety review on hundreds of car seats and I swear she still doesn’t even like the one she uses everyday.” You smile as Harry talks about his sister, doing his best to help make you feel like he really does get it and that you being very particular about what you want in the twins nursery is totally normal.

“Oh speaking of Gemma I was thinking of Nora if one of them is a girl.” Harry feels as if his feet all of a sudden don’t know how to work as you turn around to begin heading down the aisle, tossing out a baby name as if it’s just a suggestion on what the two of you should eat for dinner and not a possible name for one of your children. “And I like Anne as a middle name and I know it’s her middle name and obviously it’s your mother’s name so I thought it would be cute?” You add having no clue Harry is still frozen in place a few paces behind you.

“Uhm-uh you’ve been thinking of-of names already?” He asks as he quickly rushes to catch up to you before you turn to head down another aisle that has framed art.

“Yeah? I’ve been thinking of names since I found out I was pregnant but I’ve just now narrowed the girl name down to that one.”

“And it’s Nora?”

“Yes I like Nora.”

“Nora is nice. I think I like it.”

“I’m glad.”

“So Nora as in Jones?”

“Uh more like Roberts.”

“And who’s that?” You stop mid step and turn to face Harry who has a very curious expression on his face as he flips through a bin of floral themed art.

“Nora Roberts is an author.” You answer making Harry just nod as a small smirk forms on his face.

“Should’ve known.” You roll your eyes as he looks over at you. “Of course you want to name our daughter after an author while I want to name her after a musician.”

“Well at least both Noras are talented.”

“You’re missing the most important part of this whole thing.”

“And that would be?”

“We just agreed on something.” The grin he gives you leaves you no choice but to smile back. “Nora Anne Styles? Or did you want them to have your last name? I’m fine with hyphenating it if you-”

“Styles is fine.” Harry feels hit with an odd swirl of emotions at your answer, knowing that you want the twins to have his last name makes him have a sense of pride but also makes him feel slightly nervous that one day they might hate having the same name as him. “I haven’t thought about boy names yet.” You tell him before you turn to look at a bin that has framed posters.

“Uhm how do you feel about Edward?”

“Edgar? Like Allen Poe?”

“Uh no I uhm said Edward not Edgar.”

“Oh sorry. Edward-Edward what?”

“James?”

“Edward James Styles.” You whisper it at first making Harry nervously rub his lips together as he listens to you repeat the name a few more times before nodding. “Okay yeah I like it.” You say with a smile as you place both hands on your bump before you turn to face him.

“Wow we are two for two.”

“Better stop before we break our streak or you even worst you make me cry.” Harry rolls his eyes as you take a step towards him while holding a hand out. He doesn’t know what you want his hand for but he turns so he’s facing you and gives it to you anyway with a quirked brow. “Can you feel that?” You ask as you place his hand on the side of your bump, he’s about to shake his head no when all of a sudden he feels like tiniest something press against his palm.

“Is-is that one of them?” You just nod as Harry stares down at his hand that’s pressed firmly against your bump. You watch his eyes go from wide and shocked to soft and glossed over so you place a hand over his and give it a small pat just as he lets out his first sniffle.

“Figured it was your turn to cry in public.” You joke as he blinks a few times trying to stop the tears from actually falling and rolling down his face.

“Thanks.” He says with a wet chuckle as you move his hand to the other side of your bump so he can feel another tiny little movement.

“I think they are stretching or something.” You explain as Harry just stares at his hand with a look of pure amazement. “They’ve been extra active today though.”

“I bet it’s because of the carrots I snuck in your juice this morning.”

The laugh you let out has Harry imagining for a moment this is what it would be like if the two of you weren’t just a few levels above being complete strangers who are having kids together and instead you were just two people happily shopping for nursery decor for their twins. It’s moments like this that he desperately wishes he could remember more about the night he met you because it’s glimpses of you like this, laughing at a stupid joke he said that have him feeling like you are so easy to be around and he’s sure that’s how he felt about you that night as well. But the harsh reality that Harry is very aware of is moments like this are rare for the two of you, he’s already made you cry today so he just tries to live in this moment that has him feeling a comforting sense of happiness as long as he can because sooner or later he knows it’s going to come to an end.

You let out a groan as you stretch your legs on your couch letting your sock covered feet land in Ethan’s lap which makes him just roll his eyes when he looks down and sees you wiggling your toes at him. He turns to look at you and lets out a laugh when you poke your bottom lip out and continue to wiggle your toes, a combination you know he can’t resist. Ethan lets out a huff as he places his phone down on the table next to the couch so he can use both hands to gently rub your slightly swollen ankles.

“You’re so lucky I love you because I usually never touch feet for free.” He states making you laugh as you get comfortable and go back to reading one of the pregnancy books Anne gave you the last time she came over. “Oh so how was the shopping trip the other day? Didn’t see you two on the news and you never called me to bail you out of jail so that must mean it went well?” He asks with a teasing tone that makes you roll your eyes as you flip a page in your book.

“It did go well actually I got a few new books for the twin’s bookshelf.” You begin as you lower your book a bit so you can see Ethan’s face over the top of it. “We picked baby names and-”

“Excuse me?” His eyes are wide and his hands momentarily stop rubbing your ankles as he snaps his head in your direction. “You did what now?”

“We sort of agreed on two baby names. I told him the one I’ve been thinking about for a girl-”

“Nora Anne?”

“Yes and he liked it but he thought it was because of Nora Jones.”

“Well yeah you can’t expect Mr. Asshole to know who Nora Roberts is.” You glare at Ethan for a moment making him just shrug because he doesn’t get what he did wrong so you just continue on explaining the baby names.

“But then he had an idea for a boy name and it’s uhm well it’s Edward James St-”

“James? As in Ethan James your super attractive young neighbor?” He all but shouts as he stares at you with an excited grin on his face and you just nod and laugh because you knew he would react this way to finding out the middle name Harry picked unknowingly wanting to give his son just so happens to belong to the very man he can’t stand.

“Exactly.”

“Weird way to ask me to be their godfather but I accept.” He says with a shrug as he goes back to focusing on rubbing your ankles.

“Don’t get crazy Ethan no one has asked you to be anyone’s godfather.” You explain with a laugh making him let out a dramatic sigh.

“Here I am rubbing your feet and ankles and you don’t even think I’m godfather material? That’s just rude.” You playfully glare at him when he turns his head to look at you with a smile. “But really I’m glad it’s going well with him I know you’ve been through some shit with that asshole so I’m happy that he seems to be making an effort to do things that are actually nice and helpful.” You just nod as you try to focus on the page you’re reading in your book.

“Yeah it’s been-”

“I saw photos of him out with another girl last night.” You drop your book to your lap as Ethan lets out a sigh of relief, feeling ten times lighter now that he’s spilled the beans about something he wasn’t sure he was going to tell you about or not but he figures you deserve to know the whereabouts of the father of your children.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw photos of Harry out with some chick in a god awful tacky green silk dress with yellow-”

“Ethan.”

“Right sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair as he turns his body a bit so he is facing you, but makes sure your feet are still comfortably resting in his lap. “He was out at some club with her and they left hand in hand and got into his car and the only reason I known it was his car is because I recognized the driver.”

“Is that all?” Ethan raises an eyebrow at your question because you’re handling this rather differently than he expected.

“Uh yeah-yeah that’s all.”

“That’s okay.” You say with a slow nod before you grab your book. “He’s single he can be seen with whoever he wants.” You explain as you turn to the page you were just on, ignoring the look of confusion on Ethan’s face and the way your heart feels like it just dropped to the pit of your stomach.

“It’s okay if it’s not okay you know that right? He’s the father of your babies and it’s perfectly normal to feel attached to him in a way that no one will ever understand.” You can’t look at Ethan as he speaks or you’ll lose it so he just gives your feet a little squeeze before he reaches over and grabs the book out of your hands. “Look at me.” He says as he tosses your book onto your coffee table, you slowly look from your hands that are resting on your bump over to his face and then finally you meet his stare.

“He told me he had plans with his mom last night. That’s why he couldn’t come over to help put up the curtains I got for the nursery but he said he’d do it the next time he’s here to make my juice.” Ethan lets out a sigh as he watches your eyes get glossy as you let him in on a piece of information that you weren’t going to share with him because it seemed unimportant until now.

“God this wouldn’t be happening if you would’ve went with Zayn for your baby daddy.” His voice is serious but you know he’s joking as he reaches for one of your hands.

“Zayn wasn’t an option.” You explain with a sniffle as you try to stop the tears from falling with a few blinks.

“That’s a shame because that man is-”

“Was she pretty?” You mumble as you look away from Ethan and down at his hand that’s got a firm hold of yours as it rests on your bump. You don’t know why you asked because you know it doesn’t matter but you can’t help but be curious.

“Fuck no. She was hideous.” He watches the corners of your mouth twitch as you fight off a smile. “You’re the hottest woman that man has ever been with. Hands down.”

“You’re just saying that so I won’t cry.”

“No I’m not.” He argues as he gives your hand a squeeze. “I’m saying it so you’ll make me the godfather.” He smiles at the sound of your laughter even if it’s a littler watery sounding it’s better than the sound of you bawling your eyes out, that’s one sound he is sick of hearing from you. “I love you. You’re going to be okay.” You let out a sigh as you give his hand a squeeze making him smile.

“Thank you. I love you too.” With that Ethan lets go of your hand so he can lean over and grab your book off the coffee table and hand it back to you. The two of you silently deciding that you’ve had your fill of gossip for the evening so he picks up his phone with one hand and scrolls his social media pages while his other lazily rubs at your ankles. While you try to focus on the words on the page of your book you can’t help but let your mind wonder to the reasons why Harry would lie to you and if you should even bring it up to him. But as you get comfortable on the couch and Ethan lets out a soft sigh you decide that you’ll just deal with Harry later and enjoy your time with one of your bestfriends, refusing to let the man with the big dumb green eyes ruin anymore of your evening.

[abbyssgf]

𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞!𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐈’𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮

• concept: you've come back after a long day to your home, your wife welcomes you with a smile on your face but when she notices that you look exhausted she decided to take care of you

• words: 1,4k

• warnings: none

• author note: uh it's been a stressed and a long week for me and I need to someone hug me so here's the fanfic I've write

you've come back to your house after a long day at work. you were tired, your muscles were sore, you've got a headache from exhaustion and the one thing you were actually thinking about was going to your house and just laying down on your bed and falling asleep after a long day. 

you sighed and laid your coat on hook and laid your purse on the floor, you were so tired that you didn't notice when your wife found herself next to you and was smiling at you waiting for you to take off your things. you turned your head to her and when she saw your exhausted face her smile immediately dropped and her gaze softened "oh, baby" she murmured and hearing her voice after all day your eyes filled with tears from being so fucking tried.

"Come here," sevika murmured to you and wrapped her muscular arms around you, you immediately snuggled into her chest and wrapped your arms around her cuddling to her. tears started to fall down on your cheeks from exhaustion that was in your body. "hey, hey" sevika cooed to you and planted a soft kiss on the side of your face "let it down, babe, i've got you" sevika murmured softly to you and you just let yourself to drop your though side after all day at work. you could feel how sevika's rough hand started to rub circles on your back in a soothing gesture.

sevika knew you didn't need to hear the words 'everything is okay' or 'you're okay' but all you needed was a hug and to take care of you.

after a few moments sevika loosened her embrace of you and she pulled away enough to look at your face. her thumb wiped away some tears from your check and her voice was a soft, worried murmur "i'll take care of you, okay?" you just nod as a response to her words being too tired right now to speak to your wife.

"come on" sevika murmured to you and she wrapped her arm around your waist to hold you up next to her. she guided you to the bathroom, when the both of you entered the bathroom she closed the door behind you.

you sighted quietly looking at your wife, sevika came to the shower and she turned on the water. next thing she did was approach you, she missed you on your forehead and she started to undress you. first your up clothes and then your lower clothes, your underwear and your bra. When you were naked in front of her she undressed herself too, placing her clothes next to yours. you felt slightly guilty that sevika will wash you, sure it wouldn't be the first time when the two of you were taking a shower but… it felt different.

"baby" you started and sevika frowned immediately, before you could add something else she started talking "yes, love? something happened?" she asked you, conceded about you and your well being. "no, everything's fine just…" you hesitate for a moment "you don't have to wash me, i should… it's a normal thing-" you continued but sevika shushed you "baby" sevika said to you and placed a kiss on your forehead to calm down you a bit "it's okay, I don't have a problem to wash you. you're exhausted after today and I want to take care of you, as your wife and as someone who loves you. so please let me okay? and don't worry about anything, i've got your back" 

you relax after sevika's words and you give her a little nod that you understand her. sevika smiled at your gesture and the both of you entered the shower. the water was hot enough to help your muscles relax thanks to it, you weren't that tense up as you were several moments ago.

sevika stood behind you and she wrapped her muscular arms around your waist, one of her hands slipped off to your hips. sevika placed a few kisses on the back of your arms and neck, showing you without a words that she appreciated and admired you. you placed your hands on her arms, sighing quietly feeling that the tiredness slowly disappeared from your body.

you sighed softly "everyone and everything just pissed me off today" you murmured under your breath wanting to tell sevika what happens through your day and what made you so tired after all the day, sevika nodded as a quiet 'i'm listening to you' she reached for the body shampoo and put it on her hands and then started to slowly wash your body.

"sometimes I just feel like I do the most work and it just…piss me off and i'm tired of it" you said to her an sevika placed a light kiss on the back of your neck listening to you while her hands was washing your body with delicacy as if she would be afraid that one wrong move and you would fall apart.

"I know, baby, you have to remember to not to take too much on your shoulders. You deserve a break too, like others people from your work" sevika replied to you and you sighed at her words. "I know" you whispered softly to your wife, happily that she was here, listening to you and taking care of you.

"you're exhausted and overwhelmed with everything, you have to take a break" sevika added as she started to wash the shampoo off your body.

"it's just…I feel that no matter how bad i'm trying it's not enough, that i'm not enough-" you murmured and your voice cracked during your speaking and sevika immediately caught that. "hey" sevika's voice approached your ears "stop. stop it." she said and placed her hands on your hips, for a moment stopping washing you. she turned to you so she could have eye contact with you. 

Her gaze was full of love and concerned for your mental health and how you were thinking of yourself right now in that moment "no one will say bad things about my wife including herself" sevika said and her voice was stern but also soft.  

Sevika placed a gentle kiss on your lips and she wiped away your tears with her thumbs. "you're enough, babe, you're the strongest woman I've ever met, you do everything you can and I'm proud of you" sevika said and you were listening to every word that left her mouth. "and don't even say sorry" sevika added, knowing you had a habit of being sorry even when you didn't have to be. 

you didn't know what you should say to your wife after her words so all you could do was just stare at her with your watery eyes, but sevika couldn't get mad at you. she understands. she knew that sometimes you didn't know what to say. "it's okay" sevika added and placed one more kiss on your forehead. 

"Let's go back to bed, m'kay?" sevika said gently to you and you nodded. Sevika decided that right now you were more important than her and that she'll wash herself after she'll make sure you're feeling better and you'll be in a deep, comfy sleep in your bed.  

"okay" you replied and the both of you left the shower. She takes the towel to wipe you off and herself. Next she gave you your pajamas so you could dress up and Sevika did the same to herself. The both of you wore your usual pajamas and left the bathroom. Sevika wrapped her arm around your waist as you went to your bedroom. 

Sevika went to bed with you, covered you with a blanket and kissed you on the forehead goodnight.

"night, darlin', love you" Sevika murmured to you in a soft voice and you smiled gently "I love you too...and thank you, for everything" you responded to her and Sevika's smile got bigger a little. "you don't have to thank me, I would do anything for you" Sevika said and placed another one last kiss this time on your lips before you fell asleep. 

• taglist: @abbyslvrrr @noacinno @nytloq @l0vel3tterl0ver @pizzabbs @dvrkhcld @sannyangel89 @moondient @maat2hot

[pranabefall]

✸ — MISC NOTICE. ; minors dni. zhongli x reader. again, some pure fluff but as an mdni blog i'm holding repellent XD. mostly silly silly stuff ihgfghj reader is implied to have studied in the sumeru akademiya. not edited!!!

"You're awake."

It's more a statement then anything else, Zhongli's arm snakes round you, steady in it's grasp. "I know you are." he adds, in a way where the depths of his chest seemed to rumble slow, slow, slowly.

You crack an eye open and stare straight at him, a sheepish grin flickering across for a moment ( only for a moment. You're incorrigible, as Zhongli liked to say ). "I've been thinking." You begin, your breath half caught at the back of your mouth. An excited thrum dances over your fingertips and you're half dizzy from the buzz and the tire. So much, there's so much, your stomach feels like it's about to explode.

"It's too early." he glances over at you with a pointed raise to his brow. "You can barely hear the birds out. Go back to sleep now." His hands are gentle against your cheek and you're almost swayed by the rumbling timbre of his voice and the low cadence. It's lulling you, but by bit, deeper and deeper.

"I've been thinking." You repeat with a little more force, lifting your head up to state your point across. You collapse back down a moment later when the room spins a bit. Perhaps you were too hasty ( goddammit ) and you content yourself with settling into the mattress and pulling the blanket over your shoulders.

His lashes flutter. There is fond exasperation there, melting into his chest and his nearly-there smile like butter. Its the most Zhongli thing about him, the tiny moments and peeks in through. "Alas." He sighs, nudging you close, laying your head over his bicep. "Tell me then."

Zhongli watches the way your shoulders hunch and your lips quirk. "A willing audience? How grand..."

"A little too willing, I'm afraid. I spoiled you so."

Your hands splay against his shoulders. He's warm.

"It's only going to take a minute. In fact, it's only a question. All I need are answers and that will only take as long as you want it to."

Ah there it is, the narrowed squint, the subtle shift and the signs of a slightly more alert Zhongli ( the Zhongli who'd straighten his back and cattishly stare at someone who dares to mention the name of some obscure historic even or little known tea ). "Ask me, then."

You fall silent, looking for your words.

"I was wondering. Is geo resonance susceptible to tearing apart organic tissue? How little is needed for it to do so, and how little for it to...not...?"

You don't think there is a sane way of phrasing that, to be fair. But you'd ask stranger things, always digging and questioning and presenting the wildest little ideas on odd days of the week. It's a side effect of the Akademiya and a lack of sages sushing you into a corner with a pile of textbooks and dry edged annoyance. And maybe the very aforementioned abandonment of shame.

"And by organic tissue..."

"Human flesh, Zhongli."

"Ah."

"More specifically muscles, tendons, bones...maybe even neural tissue to be fair. Any of that stuff."

Zhongli has the grace to not react, or give much away in his contemplation. You knock your head against his chin in gentle assurance. "You don't have to answer of course."

"It's certainly a strange one." He admits.

"It is." You grumble.

"Well..." He trails off before a breathy little chuckle trembles past. "We'll, I can't say I know a proper answer to this one. It's quite specific isn't it?"

"Horribly so. Different tissue have different densities. You can afford to be a little rougher with bone, for example. But something softer like grey matter would require far more finesse."

His hand is steady against the small of your back. "And you ask this because..."

Your lips tug at the corners. "An old junior of mine sent a letter in. The boy graduated from the Spantamad Darshan in my absence and had plenty of news to share regarding a few new experiments with elemental energy and the like." You turn over a moment. "If we could find the precise frequency needed, we may just be able to utilize geo resonances for medical diagnostics."

Zhongli blinks. It's a slow, thoughtful thing.

"That is fascinating." He muses. "So you seek to map put internal injuries then? Or perhaps tumours?"

"Yes!" You eagerly nod at that. "There are Fontanian inventors...and skilled akademics. They're calling a few alumni in to aud in the research."

Your cheek tucks into the crook of his neck. You feel his warmth and the too-slow heartbeat carefully wrapped in his chest, between ribs and flesh — made of anything but stone ( You're filled with a hunger. Zhongli calls it endearing, your passion, as quiet as it can be sometimes ).

"You were invited too." He guesses.

"Yes."

His lips test against your neck. "How long?"

"A while." You look outside, to the balcony and the horizon in the distance. Then you see Zhongli's face, his hair undone and sweep against your temple as he kisses you proper.

"Then go, little love."

"Are you sure?" You suddenly feel awful, and small, and selfish. Liyue had stuck fast to the buttery feelings in your chest and Zhongli had made himself a home there as well. A part of you wants to sneak him into your trunk, sprit him away to Sumeru. It's greedy, immature ( he's always waited for you, patiently ).

"Quite." He kisses your cheek next. "What's a few months?"

"An eternity." You grunt.

Zhongli is silent for a long, long moment. "Right now...it would be, yes." He says in the afterthoughts. "And will miss you terribly. But I've waited before, and I don't see why I cannot now."

He laces his fingers against yours.

"I'll write to you every week." You promise.

"Every week." He promises and he smiles his almost smile. You kiss his forehead. He sighs. "For now...I will say it again. Go to sleep."

"Yes, yes." You mutter, snuggling in. Zhongli tucks his hand beneath your knees and swings one leg over his waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

Let me be greedy, he seems to say.

You let him.

TAGLIST ノ join the taglist. — @silentmoths @meimeimeirin @sleepynoons @iuzas @endursent.

@jessamine-rose @ofoceansandtombsanew @chiyoso @loveliluc

[kamospeach]

Hey girl, just read your Eren one shot and I was loving ittt. Could I ask for a one shot of Eren x black female bestfriends who have a flirty relationship but Eren finally makes a move when she gets asked out by someone else? #smutty please ☺️

we might share the same brain cell :P

you don't want me to see nobody else .ᐟ

plot: bestfriend!eren is tired of only being best friends.

content warning: pining, mutual pining, jealous eren, oblivious reader, slut shaming (barely), titty sucking, oral f!recieving, fingering, cowgirl

peachy's yap: wc 4k.ᐟ i've literally thought about this so many times i love best friend eren in every way !

“her? nah she's my best friend."

"girlfriend... i don't have a girlfriend. oh y/n? that's my best friend."

"yeah we live together but we're strictly best friends."

those were just three of the many different statements eren replied to strangers. strangers being people your friends brought the two of you around. your friends themselves couldn't even tell others what you both had going on.

"y/n and eren? well, they're best friends, and uh... they hug a lot."

"yeah they do that often, she always sits on his lap."

"when did he start holding her waist in public? that's new."

"truthfully i've seen them kiss. on the lips!"

all of it was true you and eren did hug a lot even cuddle when it was cold. you sat on his lap proudly in public, especially at the club you wouldn't dare let some stripper twerk on your best friend. he held your waist when you and your friends walked around the mall looking for things to buy.

you did kiss twice though once at a dinner party on accident when you turned to talk to eren and the same when he tried to kiss your cheek. another time when you both were crossfaded in your room you looked over at your best friend. his eyes were low and his pink lips shiny from chapstick and he looked very fuckable.

but even after that your friendship stayed the same and you didn't falter. you were best friends and even promised to be in the next life. and today was just like every other day.

"ren!" you yelled and eren walked to you from your shared kitchen. you laid on the couch wrapped in a blanket watching a scary movie. he stood at the end of the couch looking at you with a raised brow.

"yeah ma," he asked and you pointed at the tv his eyes followed your finger. you could barely hear the tv from where you sat. "what you scared?" he laughed at you and you frowned.

"no i ain't scared!" you defended although you were truthfully scared that wasn't what you wanted. "remember how your fat ass stepped on the remote and it broke yesterday?" you said and he looked around trying to act like he didn't hear you.

"what about it?" he asked still looking at the TV.

"i can't hear it and we haven't got a new remote. so can you turn it up pleaseeee?" you asked and he scoffed turning up the TV and looking at you to see if you were satisfied. you nodded in approval happy now that you could hear the TV. "thank you, hun."

"mhm you're welcome," he mumbled walking over to you and kissing your forehead. things like that were everyday interactions for you and eren. it was friendly and you never thought of it any other way. you watched the movie until eren came into the living room with two plates.

he handed you one and sat directly next to you in the corner of the couch. you lifted the blanket placing it over eren's legs. he grabbed your legs placed them over his lap and looked down at you.

"what movie is this again?" he asked and you scoffed rolling your eyes.

"i don't know it's on a random channel, no remote remember." you playfully remind him to which he scoffs. he promised he would go out today and buy a new remote after work.

since you took today off you sat in your room all day waiting for eren to return. just for eren to come back with two bottles of Don Julio, a family box of Cheez-Its, and a value pack of sour gummy worms. everything but a damn remote.

"you don't gotta remind me every time." he laughed and you shook your head.

"i'll go get it tomorrow." you laugh as a comfortable silence settles between the two as you both enjoy the meal. after you both finished he left to clean the dishes and returned minutes later. he sat down in his previous spot except this time he pulled you in between his legs. you leaned your against his chest looking up at him.

"hm?" he hummed in a questioning tone and for a second you weren't exactly sure what you wanted to say. lost in his green eyes that you swore swirled hypnotizing you into becoming a mute. his fingers rubbed small circles on the bare skin of your thigh. his other hand under your oversized teachers resting on your stomach.

"you work tomorrow?" you asked and he nodded looking at the time seeing it was getting close to his bedtime. he was trying to stay up later so you wouldn't call him an old man but he was exhausted. "can i ride with you?"

"yea, you can." he cleared his throat standing you up and standing up behind you. "finna go to bed," he mumbled stretching as your eyes never left his happy trail until it was hidden by his shirt again.

"can you sleep in my room? i got scared." you now admit to being scared by the low-budget horror film. he obliged as you both went to your room.

the next day was how you expected stressful, tiring, and overall draining. it was going on 3 pm and you only had one client left. you had two appointments and even did three walk-ins you were beat.

you looked across the tattoo shop at your best friend who looked even more exhausted than you. he was finishing up his last client it was his second large back piece of the day along with 3 smaller tattoos.

eren was always the busiest it was his shop and everyone loved his work. although you, connie, annie, and mikasa were good at what you did, it wasn't beating eren's talent by a long shot. you stood up walking over to his station sitting next to him watching him work.

after another 20 minutes, your client arrived, he was a regular client for you. if you were being honest you gave him discounts here and there because he was fine as hell. whenever he called and needed you to squeeze him in you never told him no.

"wassup y/n." he smiled his white teeth nearly blinding you with its reflection of the sun. you returned his smile patting the back of the seat.

"heyyy come take a seat," you said and got started with the process. you were first sitting in silence until he asked about your day. taking the opportunity to rant about your stressful day.

"man if i known that i would've waited until tomorrow or when you ain't have as many people," he said and you shook your head.

"i'll never tell you no, you know that." you send him a bright smile and he returns the gesture.

"i must be your favorite?" he laughed and you nodded slowly still keeping your main focus on his tattoo.

"you might be..." you say and he sends you a smirk. he was getting cocky and you fed into it.

"then let your favorite client take you out?" he looked at you and as much as your body wanted to freeze up from shock. you stayed calm lightly nodding your head. "not for no free tattoos or nothin'. i been liking you for a while and i've known you for three years now and..." you cut him off as he started to ramble.

"i'll go out with you." you laughed trying to lighten the mood. he was obviously a little anxious but you admired him for asking.

"oh ok cool, bet." he nodded to himself and you smiled the whole time you finished his tattoo. you were just happy someone you found attractive thought the same about you.

after that, you both said your goodbyes and you walked over to eren who sat in his chair waiting for you to finish. he grabbed your bag from you and you both made sure everything was good to be locked up. you switched the lights off following eren to his bike.

"what were you and that guy gigglin' bout?" eren asked handing you your helmet and you shrugged.

"nothin', much he asked me out and that was about it," you tell eren and he freezes turning to look at you. you weren't sure why he looked so shocked at that statement so you chuckled.

"what?" you asked getting on the back of the bike and he shook his head. not bothering to say anything to you he just wanted to get home. he sped home going a little faster than you liked your arms wrapping tightly around him.

once you both made it back home eren wasted no time jumping off the bike. he didn't even look back at you and rushed into the apartment. you followed behind him oblivious to his anger.

"what you want for dinner i'll cook," you say and he shrugs his shoulders walking to his room and slamming his door shut. you stood in front of the door in shock, you and eren never stayed mad at each other.

you shook your head going to your room and deciding on taking a shower. you sat your phone on the counter in the kitchen along with your keys and bag. you went and did your regular shower routine before going to cook. when you came out eren was sitting at the island eating food.

"you doordashed?" you asked and he nodded. looking down at your phone and then back at his food. you frowned seeing your phone had lit up meaning you had gotten a notification. you walked over grabbing your phone seeing it was a text from the client who had asked you out.

6:23 pm

it was good to see your pretty face today how does friday at 7 pm sound?

you smiled at the message about to text back until eren snatched your phone. you looked up at him with your eyebrows furrowed in anger. "eat your food." he nodded in the direction of the bag and you squinted your eyes at him.

"fuck we forgot the remote again." you groaned. eren watched your every move you felt him watching. but you ignored it not wanting him to know that you were nervous from his intense gaze. "what's your problem today?" you asked getting it over with.

"you gonna go out with him?" he asked and you turned to look at him like he had lost his mind.

"why would i not?" you say grabbing your food and sitting next to him. he hummed nodding his head almost like you were irritating him. you both ate your food in silence just as you were about to swallow your last bite eren spoke.

"you ever thought about how it'd make me feel?" he asked and you choked on your food not sure what he meant.

"what?" you asked and he sighed looking away from you.

"i'm just sayin' like we best friends and stuff..." you cut him off assuming he thought you both had to sit down and contemplate whether or not you would date this guy or not.

"you expect me to run to you like you're my father and ask if it's okay that i date him?" you said now getting angry that eren was acting this way.

"that's not what i'm getting at bruh. i'm sayin' like one guy comes and asks you on a date and you just said yes?" he said and you squinted your eyes at him.

"you callin' me easy?" you asked grabbing your empty plate and throwing it away. not only were you fed up with his attitude his words hurt you.

"no ma that's not..."

"don't 'ma' me. you sittin' here callin' me easy and getting mad that someone showed interest in me. i've never had a boyfriend because they're always scared of you. let me have this one please." you practically beg eren. and then there it was again. that swirling in his eyes that was saying everything and nothing at all. you began to storm off to your room but eren asked a question that made your stomach churn.

"have you ever... thought about me? in that way?" he asked you and you blinked in shock.

"in what way?" you asked, you needed him to be straight up and tell you what he really wanted to know.

"have you ever thought about dating me and uh... being with me?" he asked and you cleared your throat. you never thought you and your best friend would be having this conversation.

"yes i have... maybe a year ago," you admitted and he grabbed your wrist pulling you back to him.

"when we kissed? in your bed?" he asked and you nodded slowly.

"i thought about you for days, months really. i hid the way i felt, i didn't want you to know," you admitted to him.

"i've always felt that way about you," he admitted and you looked at him your eyes running over his face. his eyes, nose, lips, everything that made you feel the way you did a year ago. "don't go out with him... go out with me."

you didn't know what to say but you knew you wanted to kiss him. it had been a year since you felt those lips against yours and you needed him. you were standing between his legs as he sat on the barstool in your kitchen. his hands gripped the exposed skin of your waist as you both stared at each other

you couldn't wait another minute to press your lips against his. the softness of his lips and the urgency in his movements made it all the more sensual. your hands ran along his shoulders finding their way in his hair. you took out his bun letting his hair fall as you ran your fingers through his hair.

"have you ever thought of me like this?" you asked referring to the intimate moment you were both about to have.

"so so so many times," he said breathlessly lifting you like you weighed nothing. he sat you on the counter gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. he stood between your legs and went back to kissing you. his hands found their way to your ass and massage the flesh. your hands rubbed the back of his neck playing with the hairs on the nape of his neck.

he pushed his tongue in your mouth his tongue roaming around your mouth. the kiss was sloppy spit sloshing and swapping between your mouths. he pulled back as a line of spit followed, both of your chests raising and falling at a fast pace.

he grabbed your jaw pushing your head backward and attacking your neck. you whine at the feeling of his teeth grazing the muscles of your neck. he kissed down your neck and behind your ear, you could hear his rigid breathing. his hands reached under your shirt noticing you don't have a bra on.

"no bra?" he asked smirking and you sighed as he pulled your shirt over your head.

"i just g...got out the shower." you stuttered as he rolled his nipples between his pointer finger and thumb. he pulled at them watching your eyes flutter close at the feeling. he roughly grips your breasts fondling them and looking at you.

"put em' in my mouth," he instructed looking up at you through his lashes. your eyes widened at the thought and he nodded letting you know he was serious. he stuck his tongue out as you grabbed your boob placing it on his tongue.

his mouth latched around your breast sucking and lightly biting at your nipple. his hand grabbed your right boob fondling and playing with your nipple until he switched. he sucked so hard that you felt your need cunt clench around nothing wanting him in you so bad. your hands played in his hair pulling him away from your chest.

"why'd you do that?" he frowned looking up at you. his eyes were 3 shades darker.

"i need you..." you whined and he smirked at your neediness. he lifted you off the counter kiss you as he walked over to the couch placing you on your back.

"can i take off your shorts?" he asked and you nodded. he took off your shorts looking at your skimpy panties that were soaked. your juices creating a wet spot on your pretty pink panties. eren spread your legs his nose nudging the spot sniffing your scent.

eren let out a guttural groan and the smell and pulled off his shirt. his body was nothing new to you but seeing him hover above you with his shirt off made it so much more sensual. he unbuttoned his pants taking them off followed by his boxers. he was huge not as big as you imagined but to be fair you imagined him to be 13 inches.

although he wasn't as long as he was in your wet dreams, 8 1/2 inches was bigger than most. he was bigger than most of the guys you followed on twitter. you reached up grabbing his dick and your hand couldn't even wrap all the way around it. you stroked him slowly and he threw his head back his cock already twitching from the feeling.

"let me taste you," he mumbled and you looked up at him with a smile. you wanted to tease him, he was a naturally dominant man. even one second to be a tease was enough to make you feel superior.

"what was that rennie?" you asked in a seductive tone rubbing your thumb across the slit of his tip playing with the stickiness of his precum.

"i said let me taste you," he said louder this time and you nodded. spreading your legs. eren gripped your panties easily ripping them down the middle. your lips and swollen clit on full display your entrance dripping your wetness. "such a pretty pussy... so wet for me." he hummed leaning down to lick a long stripe down your folds.

he sucked on your clit and now and then teased your entrance with his tongue. he groaned into your pussy while he eat you out your body squirming under the feeling. your legs tried to squeeze together trapping his head between them, the feeling so overwhelming.

eren pushed your legs open letting up from your clit. his thumb swirled over your clit and you moaned loudly from the feeling. without warning he pushed his middle finger in fingering you roughly.

"you like that baby?" he asked with a raised brow and your head was thrown back as you moaned loudly at the feeling. he didn't get an answer from you so he pushed in a second finger. you whined at the pressure of a second finger. "you keep ignoring me i'll add a third." he said deeply and you pushed your limits thinking there was no way he would.

he fingered you vigorously so fast that you could hear your juices sloshing. your cunt tightened around his fingers. loving the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you. since you didn't answer eren did as he said he would add another finger in. you squealed he was stretching you so good and the feeling was overwhelming.

"m'close ren." you moaned feeling that feeling in your stomach.

"tell me how much you love it then i'll let you cum." he said and your voice was giving out from your moaning and screaming. "c'mon ma just three words." he taunted you while he fingered your wet, needy pussy. he ground his hips into the couch getting harder by the minute watching you leak all over the couch just from his fingers.

"i love it ren fuck!" you yelled and he smirked as your body gyrated from the orgasm begging to be released.

"cum for me baby, cum for your best friend rennie." he said as you let go cumming hard, your cream coating his fingers as your body shivered from the pleasure. "gooood girl," he said pulling his cream-coated fingers out of your cunt. he pushed them into your mouth as you sucked and slurped your cream off his fingers.

he pushed them down your throat making you gag on all three of his thick digits. you smiled at him as he leaned down kissing you. his tongue dancing with yours as he tasted you on your tongue. you sat up pushing him down on the couch. he leaned against the back of the couch as you straddled his waist.

"you sure?" he asked and you nodded wanting to show him what you could do. although you never had a boyfriend didn't mean you never had sex. you wanted to show eren what he had been missing.

you planted your feet on the ground lowering yourself onto him. he moaned in your ear and you whimpered at the way his cock stretched you. he was way thicker than those three fingers he used earlier. you lowered yourself fully onto him until your ass met his thighs.

your eyes were closed and your body ground into his, enjoying the feeling. after you adjusted to the size you began to ride him. your arms wrapped around his neck and his hands gripping your waist.

"fuck baby you feel so good, so wet, fuck." he groaned as you fastened your pace bouncing on his cock. you couldn't slow down you couldn't take it slow, not with the way you felt every inch of his cock stroking your insides.

"mmm ren." you moaned leaning your chest against his kissing him biting on his bottom lip. your pace slowed a little until eren moved his grip to your ass helping you ride him. still kissing you roughly while he moved you to keep the same fast pace.

his big hands almost covering most of your ass, he slapped one encouraging you to ride him faster. he watched the way your beautiful brown ass rippled from the force.

"you're doing so good ma. make us cum." he tells you as your knees got tired and he grabbed you. "you tired baby?" he asked whispering in your ear.

"mmm mhm." you whimpered out and he nodded. eren turned around so you both were lying the length of the couch. he planted his feet fucking up into you. "ren!" you yelled feeling him roughly fuck into you. it was extremely loud the sound of your bodies colliding and your yelling out from eren's rough thrust was enough for the two of you to get noise complaints.

"you close baby? i'm close." he rambled loving the feeling of your walls clenching and unclenching around him. "play with your clit." he demanded. you listened not in the mood to defy him. you rubbed your clit vigorously watching eren bite his lips as sweat ran down his forehead. his hair stuck to his forehead and his broad shoulders tensed as he fucked up into you with immense force.

"m'cumming ren." you moaned loudly and he grunted.

"me too cum with me ma." he said as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you whimpered out in pleasure. "fuck i love you shit," he said and your eyes widened as his warm cum filled you up. his dick twitching and pulsing as his seed painted your insides white.

"y... you love me?" you asked still sitting on his cock as your mixed fluids dripped down his dick and his balls. your body automatically grinding into his at the feeling of being full.

"of course i do i've told you that so many times," he said giving you a confused look and you shook your head.

"no that was as friends i mean do you love me like a lover?" you asked and he smiled at your explanation.

"i never meant it as a friend," he said and you pouted at his statement and you nodded in satisfaction.

"then i love you too rennie."

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

bath. l Joel Miller

Summary: Joel is immobilized and giving you a hard time

Warnings:  nothing much, some intimacy, shared bath, Ellie wants to get rid of Joel, boring conversations

A/N: it's something before something, so it's boring. it doesn't contribute much. if you want to support my tired mind, feel free to . kisses

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

A broken collarbone wasn't what Joel expected. When the doctor at the clinic in Jackson, where you took him the next day, told him that he would be immobilized for a few weeks, Joel just sighed heavily. He was put in a sling and told to take care of himself so that the bone would heal properly. 

It was humiliating.

Even when you left the clinic together and you took his left hand in yours, he didn't feel any better.

"I'm useless now." he mumbled, watching you choose apples and vegetables for dinner.

"Not at all." you replied calmly. "You'll just rest now. See how good it will do you."

Where did you get that optimistic belief? Joel had no idea. He was glad that your argument hadn't affected your relationship, because his head was telling him all the tragic scenarios, but now he was dependent on others for help. And worst of all, he couldn't help you,

You were the one who brought the box of food home. And then you hung the laundry out in the warm spring sun. You made dinner, and Joel...

"Can you take him somewhere?" Ellie rushed into the kitchen for the third day, a blush covering her cheeks. "He's unbearable!"

"Please, have mercy on him." you sighed. "This is the first time since..."

"He just came asking if I did my homework!" Ellie rolled her eyes and raised her hands in despair. "I'm not eight! Can we abandon him somewhere? In the forest, for example?"

You looked at her with amusement. "Of course not! But this is new to him. You know he doesn't go on patrol now, that he can't do much in the stables either."

"So you're sacrificing me?"

"Hey! I can't drag him around with me forever, he's an adult."

Ellie folded her arms across her chest and looked at you with satisfaction. "Maybe he's getting on your nerves too, huh?"

"That's not... That's not true!"

But sometimes it was like that. Joel was looking for something to do, something he could do with one hand. When he tried to help you with the laundry, it took longer than usual. Things weren't going his way at the stables either and when you went to visit him there, you saw how furious he was. Even Tommy washed his hands and didn't want to come near him.

"Fine." you finally sighed "I'll take care of him. He won't follow you around anymore."

The girl's face lit up. "I'm sure you'll have a great time!"

You didn't know if she was joking or serious.

You found Joel in the bedroom where he had been struggling with his shirt for a few minutes. He was already irritated enough and when you stood in front of him to help unbutton it, he only mumbled something incomprehensible.

"Don't pout like that." you said, smiling "That won't help you."

"Ellie already complained about me?" you nodded "I just wanted to..."

"I know, and she knows it too. Don't think about it now." You carefully took off his shirt, noticing how he winced when you helped him free his arm. "I'll draw you a bath."

"I can do it myself."

"Let me take care of you, Joel." you murmured, kissing his pouty lips.

This was amazing. A completely different level of sensation and pleasure. The bathroom was filled with steam and the pleasant scent of lavender. He could feel your body behind him, your legs were on his sides, and his back was resting on your chest. Joel closed his eyes in pleasure. You slowly washed his hair, massaging his scalp carefully. This made him turn into a purring mess, which he clearly liked.

"When was the last time someone really took care of you, huh?" you chuckled as a soft growl escaped his chest.

"I can't remember. You take care of me, don't you?"

"As much as you let me. Close your eyes." you poured a cup of warm water over his hair to rinse off the shampoo. "You should use this time, rest, get some sleep..."

His hand slid up your calf. "I feel useless." he mumbled. "Like I'm a fucking cripple or something."

"Nobody thinks of you like that." you wrapped your arms around him and kissed his temple. "Sometimes you're just a pain in the ass. Joel!" he squeezed your calf harder and you jumped. "Stop it, or I'll forget you're hurt!"

You both fell silent for a moment, soaking up this intimate time. These were special moments, you wanted to have them just for yourselves, because they made you feel that what you felt, that you were - was real. Only his voice, quiet but deep, tore you from your reverie.

"Do you remember the first time you hugged me?"

"Yes, I remember."

"I would never have dared to dream of being with you like I am now... I was convinced that I would lose you. It scared me. I didn't remember what it was like to have someone so close. I was sure that when you saw what I was like, you would run away."

You ran your fingers through his wet hair. You remembered exactly how tense Joel was then. You were sure that he would push you away, but he didn't. He just patted you awkwardly on the back as if he wasn't sure if he was doing it right. 

"I was scared too..." you said quietly, glad that Joel couldn't see your face. "I haven't done this in a long time... And you were... Yourself. I saw how you were to Ellie, but I was a stranger to you."

His hand found yours, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. "You were the best thing that happened to us, really. And certainly to me. But... You never told me."

"About what?"

"How did you even end up there? You said you were with a group, then you were left alone, but nothing more."

He felt it immediately. Your body tensed, you took a deep breath.

"This isn't a good time, you know. It's not even important."

"But-"

"We should get out, you know. I'll make dinner, you must be hungry."

Joel didn't protest. You could see the consternation on his face, questions swirling in his eyes, but he didn't want to push you. That was wonderful about him, he didn't push, he just waited until someone was ready to talk. 

It was the second time he asked you about it, and you dodged it again. Joel understood that no one wanted to talk about difficult and painful things, but he had a strange feeling that nothing good had happened to you. And that broke his heart.

"Tommy asked me today if I would go on the next patrol with Sam and Anthony." You said as you both sat down on the couch after dinner, and you reached for the book you were currently reading together.

"I was supposed to go with them." Joel noticed.

"I know, but I thought... After that last trip for supplies, I didn't go anywhere further than the beaten patrol paths. It could be fun."

Joel didn't think it would "be fun," but he knew that you cared about feeling active and important again. He talked to Shane, he knew that your joint patrols were peaceful, but there Walsh kept an eye on you. And now?

"If that's what you want." He finally said and saw the smile on your face. "Just be careful."

"I always am." You opened the book and glanced at the next chapter. "Alright, let's get back to our Bennet sisters. I really liked them."

Your calm voice soon filled the living room, but it didn't reach Joel's mind at all. He was still considering your words, strange fears starting to churn under his skin. 

If it weren't for that damned arm...

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Imagine a reader ends up biting one of the Batfam members but it's not just any bite but a very strong bite that tears off part of the flesh, so how would the Batfamily react to that? (Bonus: and the reader ends up swallowing this piece of meat)

ᴛᴀsᴛᴇ ᴏғ ɪʀᴏɴ ♥︎

ʙᴀᴛғᴀᴍɪʟʏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ʏ!)

Ho, is y'all sharks?

More here!

Jason’s grip is iron. Too tight. A gauntleted hand wraps around your wrist, the other pressed to your shoulder, heavy with intention. There’s no struggle from him, no hesitation, just certainty—like you’re some cornered thing meant to be subdued.

And maybe you are.

The Batfamily took you. Dragged you down into the depths of Gotham’s hidden places, where light doesn’t stretch and choices don’t exist. You had fought—clawed, spat, burned through every ounce of defiance like a fire unwilling to die. But they’re patient. They wear you down. A wolf pack that never tires, circling and circling, waiting for you to make a mistake.

Jason, though? He’s different. Not a shadow like Bruce, not methodical like Tim. He meets violence with violence, and right now, he’s underestimating you.

His mistake.

Your teeth sink into his forearm with the kind of force that shatters bone if the angle is right. Jason’s sharp inhale is more surprise than pain, and for a moment, you think he’s going to shake you off like a dog with a bad habit. But then you tear—not just a bite, not a warning, but something deep, something meant to wound. Skin gives way. Muscle rips beneath your jaw. The taste of iron spills over your tongue, hot and thick, a rush of something primal tearing through you as Jason jerks back—too late, too slow.

The chunk of him stays in your mouth.

Somewhere behind Jason, someone moves. A chair scrapes. The air shifts. But you don’t look away from him, and he doesn’t look away from you. He cradles his arm, blood seeping through the ruined sleeve of his jacket, dripping in uneven patterns against the floor.

And then, without thinking, without planning—

You swallow.

Jason watches.

The room goes silent.

Tim is the first to speak, voice low, horrified. "Jesus.”

Dick stands, expression unreadable. His usual warmth, the easy charm he carries like second skin, has slipped. “They need to be restrained.” A glance at Bruce, waiting for the order.

Bruce, silent and still. You can’t see his eyes, but you feel the weight of them.

Jason flexes his injured arm, expression unreadable. He should be angry. Should be throwing you against the nearest wall, spitting curses through clenched teeth. But he just looks at you, blood slick between his fingers, and exhales something close to a laugh.

It’s not humor. Not really.

“You actually took a chunk out of me,” he says, like he’s still processing it. He rolls his shoulder, assessing the damage, before locking eyes with you again. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

You say nothing.

Your tongue sweeps over your teeth, tasting what remains.

Jason’s face shifts. The amusement—the disbelief—slips beneath something colder. He steps forward, ignoring the way Dick moves like he wants to intercept, ignoring the warning in Bruce’s silence. His good hand reaches out, fingers curling around your jaw.

You don’t flinch.

“Say it,” Jason murmurs. His voice is different now. Quieter. Interested. “Say you did that on purpose.”

Your lips part, not to speak, but to bite again.

Jason jerks back before you can sink your teeth in a second time, but the grin that stretches across his face is a dangerous thing. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

“This one’s got fight,” he mutters, and there’s something in his voice that sets the others on edge. Tim watches like he’s cataloging data points, trying to piece together a reaction that makes sense. Dick’s frown deepens, a flicker of unease there now.

Bruce doesn't speak, he doesn't move.

“…You’re lucky,” Jason continues, tilting his head, gaze flicking to his arm. Blood still drips, slow but steady. “Anyone else, and you’d be missing a few teeth right now.”

His words should be a threat. Maybe they are.

But you meet his stare, unblinking, and you smile—soft, slow, just enough to show the stain of red between your teeth.

Jason laughs again.

He wipes more blood from his arm, still staring at you. “Yeah,” he mutters, voice low, almost to himself. “We’re keeping you.”

And this time, it sounds like something closer to acceptance.

[00valentina-writes00]

✞⛧ Tangled Hearts ✞⛧

Warnings: smut eventually, friends to lovers, jealousy, emotional angst, sexual tension, intoxication, brief mentions of exes

Word count: 17.4k

You sit on the edge of Vi’s bed, absently petting Mr. Warhammer the Third, her sleek, tabby cat who purrs contentedly in your lap. His warm body rests peacefully, his little paws kneading the blanket, oblivious to the fact that you are not really paying attention to him. Not fully, anyway.

Your eyes drift over to Vi, sprawled casually on her bed, her legs spread out and one arm propped behind her head, looking more like the rebel she’s always been than the woman you’re increasingly falling for. It’s not that you’ve just noticed her, but tonight there’s something different. Maybe it’s her hair—dyed black now, with pink tips, but it’s more than that. The way the darkness of it highlights her sharp jawline, the intensity of her gray eyes, the muscle of her frame shifting as she leans over to grab something from the side of her bed.

Her whole appearance hits you like a punch to the gut, and it makes your heart flutter in a way that it definitely shouldn’t. You’re supposed to be her friend, not whatever this weird, confusing mess is becoming inside you.

“What’s got you so quiet?” Vi’s voice cuts through your thoughts, pulling your gaze to her. You force yourself to meet her eyes, even though you’d rather sink into the bed and hide the heat flooding your cheeks. Vi’s expression is laced with amusement, that trademark smirk curling her lips. “Not used to me looking this good, huh?”

You laugh, trying to keep it light, but your words come out a little too breathless. “I never said that.”

Vi arches an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. Her piercing gaze narrows as she props herself up on her elbows, leaning forward in that cocky, challenging way that’s become so familiar over the years. “Oh, really?” she teases, voice thick with mischief. “So, if I’m so hot, what’s got your eyes all wide and dumbfounded? Cat got your tongue?”

You try to smile, but it falters just a bit as you lower your gaze back to Mr. Warhammer, who shifts his weight, unaware of the storm brewing inside you. “Nothing,” you mutter, suddenly very interested in petting the cat just a little harder than necessary.

Vi lets out a light laugh, sitting up and swinging her legs off the side of the bed. The motion brings her closer to you, and you have to fight the urge to retreat. You can smell her—leather, sweat, a faint hint of something sweet—and it’s like a punch to your senses. You’re drowning in the scent, the way her presence fills the room, and it’s all you can do to keep your focus on the cat, not on her, not on the way your heart beats faster.

“Well, don’t get all shy on me now,” she says with a playful roll of her eyes, nudging you with her elbow. The contact is light, but it’s enough to make your pulse spike. “What’s the deal? Come on, spill.”

“I’m just tired,” you mutter, hoping it’ll put an end to the conversation before you accidentally tell her how you really feel, how you’ve been fighting it for months now. You know it’s not just the changes in her appearance, not just the way she looks tonight. It’s everything—her strength, her wit, the way she’s always been there for you, even when she didn’t have to be. You can’t keep pretending you’re not falling for her. It’s getting harder every day.

The silence that follows stretches on for a few beats too long. You feel her stare at you, as if she knows you’re hiding something, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she picks up her phone, scrolling through it absently as you continue to pet the cat, trying to steady your breathing.

When the evening wears on, you realize you’ve been sitting there for hours. Your mind is racing too fast, and the weight of your feelings feels heavier with every second. But Vi doesn’t seem to notice. She’s too busy with whatever’s on her phone. A few times, you catch her glancing at you from the corner of your eye, but every time you meet her gaze, she quickly looks away, her expression unreadable.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting there when she speaks again, her voice softer, almost nonchalant. “You wanna crash here tonight? I’m not really feeling like going out anymore.”

You blink, caught off guard. You’d expected to head back to your place, maybe watch a movie, but the offer sounds… different. A little too inviting. You can feel your stomach twist, but you nod anyway. “Yeah, sure. I don’t mind.”

She pushes herself off the bed and stretches, the movement so fluid, so effortless, that it almost knocks the wind out of you. “Alright,” she says, her voice low and husky. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab a blanket or something.”

You stand up, not fully thinking, and shake your head. “I can just sleep on the couch, Vi. It’s fine.”

Vi stops mid-step, turning to look at you with a raised eyebrow. “The hell you will,” she mutters under her breath, more to herself than to you. Then, she gestures to her bed. “You’re crashing in here. No arguments. You always get cold on the couch anyway.”

You want to protest, to tell her she doesn’t have to do this, but the words get stuck in your throat as she heads back toward the bed, flicking the lights off. The room goes dark, save for the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. You can hear the soft rustle of sheets as Vi settles down on her side of the bed, leaving just enough space for you.

Your heart races again. You can feel the heat from her body, even from the distance, and you know you’re not going to get any sleep tonight. Not when she’s this close.

“Come on,” she calls softly, her voice a little less harsh now, more inviting than ever before. “I’m not gonna bite. Unless you want me to, that is.”

Your pulse spikes at the teasing undertone, but you try to laugh it off as you lie on the bed beside her, keeping a safe distance between you and her body. You try to keep your breathing steady, to ignore the way your chest tightens when her body shifts closer to yours, brushing against your side.

You’re acutely aware of her warmth, the quiet hum of her presence beside you. It’s like your skin is on fire, and you don’t know how to put it out. You’re afraid to even move, afraid of what might happen if you do, if you let yourself feel what you know is there.

You’re both quiet for a few minutes, the soft sound of Vi’s breathing filling the space between you. It’s calm. Comfortable. But it’s not enough to quiet the noise in your head.

You can’t stop thinking about how her body feels next to yours, the way her fingers brush against your skin when she shifts to find a more comfortable position. You’re not sure when it happens, but somehow, her arm ends up draped across your waist, pulling you a little closer to her.

Your breath catches in your throat, your body stiffening at the contact. She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t make any teasing comments. She just pulls you closer, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

And it feels so right. So damn right. But the longer you lie there, the more you realize that it feels like you’ve crossed a line. You don’t know what this is, or what it’s going to be, but you know one thing for sure—this feeling, this closeness, this heat… it’s not something you can ignore anymore.

You close your eyes, pretending to sleep, but your thoughts race. Vi is here. In your arms. In your bed. And you’re not sure what happens next.

But for tonight, you let yourself savor the closeness. Let yourself feel her heartbeat against yours, and the way her body rises and falls with each breath. For tonight, you let yourself pretend it’s enough.

—-

The water cascaded over your body, hot and soothing, as you leaned against the cool tile wall of the shower. Last night had been… something. You and Vi had stayed up late, talking and laughing, her raspy voice filling the room as she recounted some wild story from her past. She’d been so close, her scent—musky with a hint of sweat and leather—lingering in the air. How her muscular arm brushing against yours, you’d felt your heart race in a way you hadn’t expected.

You hadn’t meant to think about it now. You were just trying to wash away the remnants of the night, the way her laughter had made your stomach flutter, the way her sharp gray eyes had softened when she looked at you. But as the water ran down your skin, your hand unconsciously drifted lower. It was innocent at first, just your fingertips grazing your thighs as you lathered up. But then your mind wandered back to that moment—the way Vi’s hand had rested on the bed, her fingers so close to yours.

What if she’d reached for you?

The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and your hand stilled. You shouldn’t. This was just a shower. But the heat of the water, the way your skin tingled, it was too much. Your fingers brushed against your clit, and you gasped, the sound echoing off the tiles. This is wrong, you thought, but your body didn’t care. Your fingers circled slowly, teasing, as you imagined it was Vi’s hand instead of yours.

Vi’s rough, calloused hands, though battle-hardened, always seemed so gentle when she touched you casually—when she’d brush your hair out of your face or adjust your scarf. You could almost feel her touch now, your fingers mimicking the way hers might move. Slow, deliberate, savoring every second.

You pressed your forehead against the wall, your breath hitching as you slipped a finger inside yourself, your body arching into the sensation. God, what would Vi do? You could picture her, her sharp eyes darkening with desire, her pink-tipped hair damp from the shower. She’d kiss you first, deep and hungry, her hands gripping your hips as she pressed you against the wall. She’d take her time, exploring every inch of you, her lips trailing down your neck, your chest, until—

“Fuck,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. Your fingers moved faster now, curling inside you as your thumb pressed against your clit. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. Vi would make you scream. She’d want to hear every sound, see every reaction, as she worked you with those skilled hands.

You imagined her voice, low and husky, whispering in your ear. “You’re so fucking beautiful. I’ve wanted this for so long.” The mental image of her saying those words sent a jolt of pleasure through you, and your knees nearly buckled. You pressed your free hand against the wall for support, your hips rocking into your hand as you chased the sensation.

It wasn’t enough. You needed more. You added another finger, the stretch making you gasp. Your other hand slid up to your breast, pinching your nipple as you imagined it was Vi’s mouth instead, her tongue flicking against you, her teeth grazing your skin. She’d be so focused, so deliberate, her eyes never leaving yours as she—

“Damn it, Vi,” you moaned, your voice breaking as the waves of pleasure started to build. You could almost feel her breath against your neck, her lips brushing your skin as she whispered your name. “Come for me, baby. Let me see you fall apart.”

The words, real or imagined, pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, and you cried out, the sound swallowed by the steam-filled air. Your fingers worked you through it, the pleasure washing over you in waves as your legs trembled.

When you finally came down, your breathing ragged, you slumped against the wall, the water still pouring over you. Your heart was racing, your body still humming with the aftermath.

You were head over heels. And just masturbated to the thought of your best friend. Great.

—-

The night air is crisp and buzzing with the energy of the city. Neon lights flicker in the distance as you and Vi make your way down the uneven sidewalks, her arm brushing against yours as you walk. She’s laughing, her voice bright and carefree as she pulls you from one bar to the next. Her steps are easy, confident, the weight of her presence radiating in every step. Her outfit is casual but still somehow dangerous, the red leather jacket she wears hugging her frame, the sleeves rolled up just enough to reveal the inked lines of her forearms. Her hair is still that messy blend of black and pink, the tips now faded into a pastel hue.

You catch yourself stealing glances at her, watching the way she moves, the way her confidence pulses like electricity, and you find yourself wishing—more than anything—that you could just be normal about this. About her.

But you can’t. You’ve been through this before, all the longing and frustration that comes with having feelings for someone you know you shouldn’t. Vi’s tough, rough around the edges, cocky and self-assured. She’s the last person you’d expect to break your heart, but here you are—feeling it all the same.

“So, I ran into Caitlyn today,” Vi says casually as the two of you slip into a dimly lit bar. The place is packed with the usual crowd—drunken laughter, clinking glasses, the low hum of conversations mixing with the music.

You don’t know why it hits you so hard. She’s mentioned Caitlyn before—of course she has. But tonight, it feels different. There’s a hint of something in her voice, something that tugs at you like a tight knot in your chest. She doesn’t look at you when she speaks, her eyes scanning the bar for a place to sit, but you catch the faint edge of longing in her voice, the small shift in her posture.

“Really?” you manage to say, your voice thick as you take a sip from your drink, the burn of alcohol doing nothing to numb the growing ache in your stomach.

Vi flops down into a booth, tossing her jacket over the back. She shrugs, her smile still playful but tinged with something more. “Yeah. Just ran into her on the street. She looked… good.” She lets out a soft chuckle, glancing at you. “You know how she is. Always perfect. Always put together.”

You force a laugh, though it feels brittle in your chest. “Yeah, I know how she is.”

Vi doesn’t miss the shift in your expression. Her gaze sharpens, but she doesn’t push. Not yet. “Anyway,” she continues, picking up her drink, “she asked how I’ve been. It’s been a while, y’know? I think she wanted to know if I was still pissed off at her.”

“Are you?” The question slips out before you can stop it. You feel your heart rate pick up, a spike of jealousy curling in your gut as you look at her, searching her face for an answer you don’t want to hear.

Vi’s eyes meet yours, steady and unflinching, but there’s something there—a flicker of vulnerability she doesn’t often show. “I was,” she admits, her voice quiet, softer than you’ve heard in a while. “But I think… I think I’m over it now. It was a long time ago, and I was angry, you know? Things just got fucked up, and I couldn’t see past that.”

You nod, taking another drink, swallowing your emotions down. It’s funny how easily she can say these things, how casually she speaks of the past, while every word she says feels like a punch to the gut. You want to ask about Caitlyn—about what happened between them, why it ended, if there’s still something there—but you can’t bring yourself to do it. The words stick in your throat, tangled up with everything you’re trying to hide.

Vi continues, her voice drifting between the clink of glasses and the chatter around you. “She was a good person. You know that. Just… not the right person for me. She was always the calm one, the one who had everything figured out. And I was… well, I was a mess. I didn’t know what I wanted, and I didn’t know how to handle her.”

You wince, your stomach twisting as you hear her words. You can’t stop the feeling of jealousy, the sudden sting in your chest. It’s like someone’s twisting a knife between your ribs, and it’s all you can do to keep it from showing on your face.

“She was everything I wasn’t,” Vi adds, her eyes downcast, a slight frown tugging at her lips. “But I didn’t know how to be that. I wanted to be better for her, but… I couldn’t be. And she deserved better than that.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. You don’t know what to say, how to make sense of the mess of emotions swirling inside you. You want to tell her that you would never think she’s a mess. You want to say that you’d take her as she is, all of her flaws and edges, that you don’t need her to change. But instead, you stay silent, trying to force the bitterness down.

Vi’s eyes flicker to you, catching the look in your eyes. She tilts her head slightly, narrowing her gaze. “You okay? You look kinda… off tonight.”

You force a smile, hoping it doesn’t come across too weak. “I’m fine. Just thinking about… stuff.”

She stares at you for a moment, before her lips curl into a small smile. “You sure? Because you’re not exactly the best at hiding when something’s bugging you.”

You want to tell her, but you can’t. You can’t let her know how much it hurts, how much you’re fighting this feeling that’s growing inside you—how much you’re starting to care for her in ways you shouldn’t. You look down at your drink, swirling the liquid around in your glass. “Yeah, just… tired, I guess.”

Vi watches you for a moment longer, then shrugs, seemingly satisfied with the answer. “Alright. Just don’t bottle it up, yeah? I’m here if you need to talk. About anything.”

You nod, but it doesn’t feel like enough. The weight of her words lingers in the air between you, heavy and thick, and you can’t help but wonder if she knows more than she’s letting on. If she can feel the shift in the atmosphere, the way you’re both slowly slipping into dangerous territory.

The rest of the night passes in a blur of drinks, laughter, and the faint buzz of the crowd around you. Vi seems to be enjoying herself, but you’re stuck, lost in your own head, your thoughts constantly drifting back to Caitlyn, to the way Vi talked about her with that small, wistful look in her eyes. You can’t help but wonder if there’s a part of her that still wants her back. A part of her that’s never really let go.

By the time you find yourselves leaving the bar, the night air is cooler, the streets quieter. Vi keeps a hand on your back as you walk, a familiar gesture that calms the storm brewing in your chest. You try not to read too much into it, to push back against the warmth spreading through you as her touch lingers.

The walk home is comfortable, though the silence between you is charged with unspoken words. You’re still processing everything she said, still trying to make sense of the confusing mix of emotions building inside you. Part of you wants to confront her, to ask about Caitlyn and what she meant when she said all of that—but another part of you knows that asking will only hurt more.

When you get back to her place, you stand in the hallway for a moment, unsure of what to do next. Vi looks at you, her gray eyes soft in the dim light of the hallway. She reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from your face, her touch light, almost tentative. “You good?” she asks again, the concern in her voice clearer now.

You nod, forcing a smile. “Yeah. Just a little tired.”

Vi studies you for a moment, her expression unreadable, and then she nods. “Alright, get some rest. We’ll talk more later if you want.”

You don’t know what you want. You don’t know what this is anymore. But for now, you simply nod, letting the confusion of the night hang in the air, unresolved.

Vi pulls you into a hug, and you let yourself sink into it, feeling her warmth, the steady beat of her heart against yours. The scent of leather and sweat wraps around you.

—-

You can’t stop thinking about it. The words, the tone, the way Vi mentioned Caitlyn so casually, like it didn’t matter, but to you—it felt like a punch to the gut. Every time you close your eyes, her voice echoes in your head, and no matter how many distractions you try to bury yourself in, that dull ache doesn’t fade. It lingers like an unwelcome guest, gnawing at you.

The next few days, you find yourself avoiding Vi’s calls.

At first, it’s just a little thing. A missed call here, a text left unanswered there. You tell yourself it’s nothing; that you’re just busy, that you need space to sort out your thoughts. But deep down, you know the truth. It’s not that simple.

You’re hurt. Not because of anything Vi did directly, but because of the way she spoke about Caitlyn. The way her words slipped through her lips like they were just another part of the past—no big deal. But it was a big deal. And now, all of a sudden, you feel like you’re standing on shaky ground, wondering where you even fit into the equation.

You can’t stand the thought of confronting her about it. Not now. Not when everything feels so fragile. And so, you shut her out. You put your phone on Do Not Disturb, hoping it’ll ease the tension in your chest, hoping it’ll stop the nagging voice that tells you you’re making a mistake.

But every time you see her name flash across the screen, the same guilt twists in your stomach. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re doing something wrong, that you’re hurting her. You’ve been avoiding her, and now she’s probably wondering what’s going on. But the thought of answering her call makes your palms sweat, your throat tighten.

She deserves to know. But you don’t know how to explain it without sounding pathetic or—worse—jealous. And you don’t want to be that person. You don’t want to show her that side of you.

You spend the next couple of days lost in a haze of half-hearted distractions. You keep busy at work, telling yourself that you’re handling it, that it’s fine. That everything’s fine. But the quiet moments—the moments when you’re alone, scrolling through your phone, wishing you didn’t feel this way—they’re the hardest.

Vi’s calls pile up. Her name pops up on your screen with an alarming frequency. The notifications buzz against your thoughts, but you keep pushing them aside, telling yourself you just need more time. Time to figure out your emotions. Time to breathe.

By the third day, it’s unbearable. You’re staring at your phone, the screen dimly glowing in the dark of your room. Vi’s name appears again. The missed calls, the unanswered texts, they all sit like a pile of bricks on your chest. You tell yourself it’s the last one. You’ll call her back after this, explain yourself.

But you don’t. You let it ring until it cuts off.

You toss your phone aside, the weight of your own avoidance crushing down on you. You want to pick it up. You want to apologize, to explain how you’re feeling, to confess that you’re scared. But you don’t. And in that silence, all you hear is your own mind—replaying the conversation from the bar over and over, the hurt mixing with confusion. You’re not even sure what you want from her. Maybe you’re just scared.

Maybe you’re just scared of losing her.

It’s hard to admit. You’ve never been one to shy away from confrontation, but this—this is different. Vi is different. She’s rough and tough and loud and brash, but you’ve always known there was something more beneath that surface. Something vulnerable, something real. And the way she talked about Caitlyn—it shattered the image you’d built in your mind.

You know she’s not perfect. You’ve seen the cracks, the way she hides behind her bravado, how easily her smile fades when she’s alone with her thoughts. You’ve seen the guilt she carries. You’ve seen the fear in her eyes when she thinks she’s lost someone. But this—the mention of Caitlyn—made you realize how little you truly knew about her. It made you feel like you were standing on the outside, looking in.

The quiet of the room is suffocating. You can almost hear the sound of her voice, asking where you’ve been, why you haven’t been answering. The image of her standing there, a little worried, maybe frustrated, pulls at your heartstrings, but you don’t call her back. Not yet.

When you do finally text her, it’s a half-hearted attempt to break the silence.

“Sorry, been busy.”

It’s a lie. You both know it. But it’s the only thing you can manage. You don’t know how else to explain it without sounding foolish. Without sounding like you’re overreacting.

Vi’s response comes quickly, as if she’s been waiting for it. You almost feel guilty for making her wait.

“Busy, huh?” The text is light, playful, but you can read between the lines. You can tell she’s trying to hide the concern, trying to make it sound like it doesn’t matter, when you know it does.

“Everything alright?” she asks.

You stare at the screen for a long time, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. What do you even say to that? You’re not sure what’s wrong, only that something inside you is screaming that this isn’t right. That you shouldn’t be ignoring her. That you should be honest with her.

But it’s not that simple.

You’re not sure you can handle her reaction, not sure you’re ready to hear what she might say. Maybe she’ll brush it off, maybe she’ll get angry. Maybe you’re just overthinking it, as usual. Maybe she’ll realize you’re not as strong as you’ve made yourself out to be. You can’t stand the thought of her seeing you weak, seeing you vulnerable.

So, you text back instead of calling. “Yeah. Just needed some space.”

You want to kick yourself as soon as the words leave your fingertips. It sounds so evasive, so cowardly. You know it’s not enough, that it’s not the truth. But you send it anyway, too scared to say what you really feel.

Her reply is quick, but it’s different this time. There’s no joking, no playful tone.

“You sure? You’ve been kinda distant. I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want you to shut me out, okay?”

You stare at the words, feeling a lump form in your throat. You know she’s trying to keep it light, trying to make sure you don’t shut her down completely, but it doesn’t work. Not this time. Not when you’re already so closed off.

You try to breathe, try to push the panic back down. You want to answer her, want to tell her that you’re just figuring things out, that it’s not her fault. But the words don’t come.

You’re scared of how she’ll react. Scared of her asking about Caitlyn. Scared that she’ll realize how much it hurts to hear her talk about her past.

You let the text sit there for a while, the silence between you growing louder with every passing second. The longer you wait, the more the pressure builds, and you can feel yourself slipping away from her, inch by inch. You know she doesn’t deserve this, and yet you’re doing it anyway. You’re pushing her away.

You try to distract yourself with something else—anything else—but the weight of the situation follows you like a shadow. You can’t escape it. You can’t escape her.

And all you want to do is reach out, to apologize, to fix the mess you’ve created. But you can’t seem to bring yourself to do it.

—-

The tunnel is small, a forgotten relic of a time when the city was less crowded, less dangerous. The walls are damp, with faint graffiti marking the passage of time. The air smells like rust and mildew, but to you, it’s home. You’ve sat here with Vi countless times, the two of you passing around a joint, talking about everything and nothing. The dim light from the outside world doesn’t penetrate here, and you find comfort in the shadows.

You’re waiting for her, leaning against the cool concrete wall, hands shoved deep into your pockets. You’re not sure why you chose this spot tonight, of all places. Maybe it’s because it’s quiet, away from the distractions, away from the noise of the world and the chaos that always seems to follow Vi wherever she goes. Maybe it’s because it feels like the only place you can breathe right now.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket. You don’t need to check it to know it’s her. Vi’s calls have been relentless these past few days, and you’ve ignored every single one. You’re still not sure how to face her after everything that happened, but you can’t keep avoiding her. The guilt weighs heavily on your chest, and the thought of losing her over something as stupid as your own insecurities makes your stomach turn.

A shadow falls across the entrance of the tunnel, and you look up, your heart skipping a beat when you see her. Vi’s silhouette is outlined by the dim light from outside, and she steps into the tunnel with her usual swagger, that confident, cocky walk that makes her seem invincible. She’s dressed as always—her leather jacket, those worn boots, and her loose pants that hang low on her hips. Her hair, with its black and pink tips, falls messily around her face, and the right side is shaved as usual, giving her a sharp, edgy look.

“Yo, you actually showed up,” Vi says with a grin, her light gray eyes sparkling with amusement. She leans against the wall, just a few feet away from you, and for a moment, the tension in the air dissipates. Her gaze shifts to the space beside you, the small gap between your bodies, before she pulls out a small bag from her jacket pocket.

You can feel the weight of her presence next to you, even though there’s nothing physical separating the two of you. Her energy, her confidence, everything about her pulls you in. The tension you’ve been holding onto since that night—since you shut her out—begins to loosen as she opens the bag and pulls out a small joint.

“Smoke?” she offers, her voice a little softer than usual. You hesitate for a moment, but then you nod, grateful for the distraction. You take the joint from her, fingers brushing lightly against hers, and you can’t help but notice how warm she feels. Her touch lingers for a second longer than it should, but she doesn’t pull away, and neither do you.

You bring the joint to your lips and take a deep drag. The smoke fills your lungs, a temporary escape from the whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind. As you exhale, the warmth spreads through your chest, and for a brief moment, you forget about everything else.

Vi takes the joint back and takes a slow drag herself, her eyes half-lidded as she watches you. “How’ve you been?” she asks, her tone casual, but there’s a subtle undercurrent of concern in her voice.

You shrug, not trusting your own voice yet. “Same old,” you reply, forcing a small smile. It feels like a lie, but you’re not ready to unload all your feelings. Not yet.

She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but she doesn’t press you further. Instead, she takes another drag and then passes the joint back to you. “I’ve been doing alright,” she says, her voice a little quieter now. “Been keeping busy.”

The air between you is comfortable, but there’s something unspoken hanging between you two. It’s like both of you know that this conversation is inevitable—that you can’t keep ignoring what happened, what’s been simmering under the surface for days.

You take another drag from the joint, your fingers trembling slightly as you pass it back to her. “Vi…” Your voice is barely a whisper, and she looks at you, eyes narrowing slightly as if sensing the shift in the air.

She leans in a little closer, her shoulder brushing against yours. The closeness feels electric, like the static between you two is building, and you can’t ignore it. Not anymore. It’s all you can feel, the heat of her skin next to yours, the rhythmic beat of your heart pulsing in your chest, louder and louder.

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You bite your lip, your heart racing in your chest. “I—I’ve been thinking about stuff.” The words feel like they’re stuck in your throat, heavy and hard to say. “About us.”

Vi’s expression shifts, and for the first time, she looks a little uncertain. It’s brief, but it’s there. She shifts so that her body faces yours, her eyes searching yours for answers. “Us?” Her tone is quiet, like she’s waiting for you to finish.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice trembling just a little. You want to tell her everything, everything that’s been swirling in your mind. “I’ve been avoiding you, and I don’t know why,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I guess I’m just… scared.”

Vi doesn’t say anything at first. She just watches you, her light gray eyes searching your face for the truth. The night feels heavier now, the air thick with the tension between you two. You’re sitting so close, your shoulders brushing with every shift of your bodies. Her scent, a mix of leather and something sweet, fills your senses, and it makes your pulse quicken.

“You don’t have to be scared of me, babe,” she says finally, her voice low and sincere. You wince at the causal usual of “babe”. She reaches out, her hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a familiar gesture that sends a spark through your veins. “I get it. You’ve got your own stuff to work through. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

You can feel the warmth of her hand in yours, the pressure of her fingers against yours grounding you, reminding you that she’s still here, still with you. And for the first time in days, you let yourself relax, just a little.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you confess, your voice barely above a whisper. The words are out before you can stop them, and you realize how true they are the second they leave your lips. You’re afraid of what this might mean, of what might happen if you let yourself get too close to her, so you added on. “You’re my best friend, you know?”

Vi’s expression softens, and she squeezes your hand tighter. “You won’t lose me,” she says firmly. “I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you push me away.”

You look at her, her face so close to yours now, and for a moment, everything else fades into the background. It’s just the two of you in the dark tunnel, the quiet whispers between you, and the weight of everything unsaid. The pull between you is undeniable now, stronger than before.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, feeling the weight of everything you’ve been holding back. You’re not sure if it’s the weed, or the vulnerability in her eyes, but you feel like grabbing her and kissing her in this damnned tunnel.

Vi leans in just a little closer, her lips brushing your ear as she speaks. “No need to apologize. Just… don’t shut me out again. I’m not gonna leave you, alright?”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, and you nod, your heart pounding in your chest.

—-

You wake up with a start, your body tangled in the sheets, the dim light from the morning creeping in through the cracks in your curtains. Your head is heavy, groggy from the sleep you just dragged yourself out of, but the feeling in your chest is even heavier. You groan softly, your fingers pressing to your temples as you try to gather your bearings. The remnants of the dream you just woke from flood back to you in vivid flashes.

It was her—Vi. It always is.

You shift in your bed, the warmth of your body flushed against the sheets as if they can provide some comfort to your burning skin. But it’s not the heat of the room that has you feeling like you’re on fire. It’s the aftereffects of the dream—how she touched you, how her hands felt like they belonged on your body, like the world would make sense if you just let her pull you in closer. In the dream, she was soft, her fingers trailing across your skin with care, her eyes dark with something you couldn’t place but felt like it was meant for you. The dream felt so real, the tension, the pull between you two—it was electric, intoxicating, and now, your heart is pounding with the echo of it.

You pull the sheets off your body, the cool air of your room brushing against your hot skin. You sit up, running your hands through your tangled hair, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. God, I can’t believe I let that happen, you think to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. You try to steady yourself, but there’s an ache in your chest that won’t go away.

It’s just a dream, right?

You shake your head, pushing the thought away. It’s more than a crush now. You can feel it in the way your body still aches, the way your chest tightens when you think of her, the way you can’t seem to get her out of your mind no matter how hard you try. Vi, with her sharp gaze and that way she walks like she owns the world—she’s always been close, always been a presence in your life. But lately, it’s something more. It’s a longing that you can’t shake off.

It’s just a damn dream, right? you repeat to yourself, but the words feel hollow. The ache in your chest doesn’t let up, doesn’t fade like it should. You stand up from the bed, your feet hitting the floor with a soft thud, your head still foggy but clearer now that you’re awake. You move to the window, pushing back the curtains and letting the sunlight stream into the room. You try to ground yourself in reality, trying to shake the remnants of the dream that cling to your skin like a second layer.

But the truth is, you can’t. Because deep down, you know it’s not just a dream. It’s real.

You let out a breath, running your hands over your face. This is ridiculous, you tell yourself. But no matter how many times you try to talk yourself out of it, the feeling doesn’t go away. The ache in your chest, the heat in your veins when you think of her—it’s undeniable.

You take a few more deep breaths, trying to calm your racing thoughts. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand, pulling you from your thoughts. You reach for it, hoping for a distraction, but your stomach drops when you see the name on the screen.

Vi.

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you’re paralyzed. You know that this is the moment when everything could change. You could ignore her, pretend that things are still the same, or you could be honest, but God you’re not sure you’re ready for that. You glance at the message, the words simple but heavy in their own way.

“You up?”

You let out a soft breath, glancing at the phone for a moment longer. You want to text her back, but the words don’t come. Instead, you slide the phone into your pocket and get dressed, moving like a robot through the motions. You pull on your clothes—jeans and a simple shirt—your fingers shaking slightly as you go. The dream still lingers, clouding your mind, and you try to focus on something—anything—that isn’t Vi.

But as you finish getting ready, you can’t help but wonder if this will be the day everything changes. The day you have to confront what’s been bubbling under the surface for so long. You don’t want to think about it, but you know you can’t avoid it forever. Not when Vi keeps showing up, not when the pull between you two is growing stronger.

As you step outside, the morning air is crisp against your skin. You breathe it in, hoping the fresh air will clear your head, but you know it won’t. Because the only thing that fills your thoughts is her. Vi, with her piercing gray eyes and that way she walks like she’s always on the move, always in control.

You head to the usual spot, the alley where you and Vi always meet. It’s quiet this morning, the sound of distant footsteps and traffic the only noise that fills the air. You wait, shifting on your feet, trying to focus on anything other than the way your heart is racing. You feel like you’re on the edge of something—something big—and you’re not sure if you’re ready for it.

It’s then that you hear it. Her voice.

“Yo, you out here?” Vi’s voice is rough, familiar, and when you turn around, she’s standing there, leaning against the wall, looking as effortlessly cool as always. Her hair is messy, the black and pink strands falling over her face, and she’s wearing that red leather jacket that always seems to make her look untouchable.

For a moment, you just stare at her, taking her in, your breath catching in your throat. She’s exactly the same and yet, everything about her feels different today. The pull between you two is undeniable now, and you can feel it in your chest, like a magnet drawing you in.

“Hey,” you say, your voice betraying the way your body feels—hot, tight, and anxious all at once.

She raises an eyebrow, pushing off the wall and stepping closer to you. Her light gray eyes scan your face, and you know she’s noticed the way you’re acting. She always notices everything. “You alright? You look like you’ve been hit with something.”

You nod quickly, trying to play it off. “Yeah, just… woke up a little weird, that’s all.”

Vi doesn’t seem convinced. She studies you for a moment longer, her gaze lingering on you in that way she does when she’s trying to figure you out. The tension in the air grows thicker, and you can feel your heart beat faster with every second that passes. You can’t hide from her, not when she’s looking at you like that.

“You sure?” she asks, her voice low, concern lacing her words.

For a moment, you want to open up to her, tell her everything that’s been building up inside you. Tell her about the dream, about the way your heart races when she’s near, about how you can’t seem to get her out of your head. But the words stick in your throat, and instead of saying what you really feel, you offer her a nervous smile.

“Yeah, just a little… off, that’s all,” you say, but even as you say it, you know she doesn’t buy it.

She steps closer, her presence overwhelming in the best and worst ways. You can feel the heat of her body near yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The world around you disappears, and there’s only Vi, with her sharp eyes and the way she makes you feel like you’re the only person in the world.

“Don’t hide shit from me,” she says quietly, her voice firm but tender at the same time. “If something’s going on, you tell me.”

You swallow hard, your chest tightening. The words are right there, sitting on the tip of your tongue, begging to be spoken. But you hold back, still too scared to confront what’s been bubbling inside you for so long.

Instead, you take a step back, your heart pounding in your chest, and force a smile. “I’m good, really.”

Vi watches you for a moment longer, her eyes piercing through you, before she lets out a soft sigh. “Alright. But you’re not fooling me.”

You don’t know how much longer you can keep pretending. The ache in your chest only grows stronger as she stands there, so close to you, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between you like a thick fog.

And you know, deep down, that you won’t be able to hide from her forever.

—-

It’s a quiet afternoon, the kind where the world feels like it’s moving in slow motion. The air is warm with the fading sun, and yet you find yourself standing in front of an old, worn-out Walmart, the fluorescent lights flickering above you. The place is almost empty, save for a few stray shoppers meandering down the aisles. It’s not much, really—just a place to kill time. But as you glance over at Vi, your heart stirs in ways it shouldn’t.

She’s grinning at you like she knows exactly what she’s about to drag you into. “You ready for this?” she asks, her light gray eyes gleaming with mischief. Her voice is playful, teasing, and it sends a thrill through your chest.

“Ready for what, exactly?” you ask, unsure of what she’s getting at, but you can already tell that trouble is on the horizon. You glance around at the dilapidated shelves and faded signs. It’s not the kind of place you’d expect to cause chaos, but with Vi, it feels like anything is possible.

With a smirk, she grabs your hand and pulls you inside. “Trust me,” she says, her grip firm and comforting, “I’ve got ideas.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound echoing through the aisles, and for a moment, you feel like teenagers again, back when things were simpler. The weight of everything between you two—the unspoken tension, the aching longing you’ve been trying so hard to push down—feels a million miles away. All that matters right now is the pure, chaotic energy Vi brings to every moment. You follow her, your heart beating just a little faster than it should, and your mind pushing aside any thoughts of what lies beyond this carefree moment.

The first aisle she drags you to is the toy section, and without a word, she picks up a rubber chicken and throws it at you. You catch it, laughing despite yourself, and before you can protest, she grabs another one and flings it at you. “Fight me for it,” she teases, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

It’s absurd, ridiculous even, but you’re both laughing like you don’t have a care in the world. Vi is all sharp edges and rough-around-the-edges charm, but when she smiles like this, like the weight of the world doesn’t exist, you can’t help but fall for her all over again. There’s something so disarming about her, the way she pulls you into her orbit without even trying. You find yourself doing whatever she says, caught up in the moment, lost in the easy laughter between you two.

You toss the rubber chicken back at her, but instead of catching it, she lets it bounce off her face, still laughing like a kid. You watch her, her sharp features softened by the carefree smile that tugs at her lips. Her eyes—normally so intense—are soft now, sparkling with unfiltered joy. You almost forget just how protective and serious she can be, how that edge she carries is always there, just beneath the surface. In moments like this, it’s easy to pretend you’re not walking on a knife’s edge, balancing between friendship and something much more.

Vi grabs a set of silly string, spraying it all over you with a wild laugh, her hair bouncing with every movement. You retaliate with a can of your own, spraying her right in the face, but she doesn’t care—she’s having too much fun. The bright colors of the string cling to her skin, adding to the wildness of her already chaotic look. You can’t help but watch her as she wipes the string from her face, grinning like she’s won some kind of victory. She’s radiant, untouchable in the way she moves through the world, but in these small moments, when it’s just the two of you, she’s completely yours. And for a heartbeat, it feels like maybe you’re hers, too.

You take a step closer, the playful tension still humming between you, and you reach for another can of silly string. The cans are cheap, and the store is almost deserted, so you feel free to let loose, to let your guard down. It’s like you’ve been given a license to act like a fool, and with Vi here, you can’t resist. You spray her again, and this time, she retaliates, tackling you in the most unexpected way, pulling you down to the floor with her.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, tangled on the aisle floor, laughing and trying to catch your breath. You’re so close you can feel the heat of her body pressed against yours, her breath quick and uneven from laughter. You feel her hand slip under your waist, your heartbeat racing in a way that has nothing to do with the ridiculousness of the situation. There’s an undercurrent of something more, something deeper, that you can’t ignore.

Vi looks down at you, her eyes flashing with something you can’t quite place. Her usual cocky grin is replaced by something softer, something that has your heart thumping in your chest. “You alright, babe?” she asks, her voice low and teasing, but there’s an edge to it now, something a little more intimate than before.

You nod, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your body at her touch, at the way she calls you “babe” without hesitation. It’s just a nickname, a playful one at that, but the way she says it makes your heart flutter in ways it shouldn’t. She doesn’t seem to notice the way your breath hitches, though. Or maybe she does and just doesn’t care. Either way, her smile deepens as she pulls herself off you and extends a hand to help you up. You take it, your fingers brushing together for a second longer than necessary.

The moment lingers between you, the distance closing between your bodies, and you can’t help but think how easy it would be to lean in, to feel the soft warmth of her lips against yours. But you pull back, unsure if you’re ready for that, unsure if you should even want it.

“C’mon, let’s go find something else to ruin,” she says, the hint of mischief back in her voice. She’s already moving, and you follow her like a moth to a flame. You both start heading down the next aisle, but the whole time, the quiet hum of your heartbeats fills your ears, a constant reminder that something between you two is changing.

Vi stops at a shelf filled with cheap sunglasses, tossing a pair at you with a grin. You catch them, adjusting the frames as she grabs a pair for herself. “We look ridiculous,” she says, inspecting herself in a nearby mirror, “but it’s fun.”

You chuckle, adjusting the shades on your face, still feeling the odd fluttering in your chest. “You look ridiculous,” you tease, though you know full well you look just as silly in the mirrored reflection.

But it’s not the sunglasses that are making you feel strange. It’s the way she’s looking at you, the way she tilts her head, her gray eyes locking with yours in that knowing way that makes your pulse race. The way she stands so close to you, like she’s ready to pull you into the chaos at any moment, like she already owns you.

And for the first time, it occurs to you that maybe she does.

You feel your breath catch, and your heart pounds louder in your chest. You want to say something, do something, but the words are stuck in your throat. You want to tell her how much this means, how much she means, but you’re scared of what will happen if you do. Scared that you’ll ruin this easy camaraderie between you two, scared that she doesn’t feel the same way.

Vi doesn’t give you time to think about it. Instead, she grabs your wrist and pulls you down another aisle, causing a small crash as you knock a stack of boxes off a shelf. But it’s too late to worry about that now. You’re just caught up in the pull of her, caught up in her laughter, in her world.

And for one fleeting moment, you let yourself be completely, utterly lost in it.

—-

The room is quiet, save for the soft murmur of Bluey’s theme song playing from Vi’s TV. The screen lights up in hues of blue and orange, casting a gentle glow across the room. The air smells faintly of popcorn—salt and butter mixing together in that nostalgic way that makes you feel like a kid again, content and safe in the comfort of something simple. But the weight of the moment isn’t lost on you, and every breath you take seems to pull you deeper into the storm of thoughts swirling in your mind.

You and Vi are sitting side by side on her bed, your knees brushing against hers as you both share the bowl of popcorn. You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting like this, but the clock on the wall says it’s late, though neither of you seem to mind. The show is light, fun, the kind of thing that doesn’t require much thought. But your attention is far from the cartoon in front of you. Instead, it’s on her—on the way she laughs softly, the way her light gray eyes shimmer with amusement, the way her lips curl into a grin that makes your heart thud a little harder.

You steal a glance at her, trying to be subtle, but you can’t help yourself. She’s sitting so close that you can feel the warmth of her body, smell the faint hint of leather from her jacket mixed with the earthy scent of her skin. She looks… different here. Softer. Less guarded. In the light, her features seem to soften—those sharp eyes, always so full of fire and determination, are now lighter, warmer. She looks like she’s at ease, like she’s just a regular person, and not the tough, cocky woman you know so well. It’s a side of her you’ve seen glimpses of before, but never quite this clearly.

Vi glances over at you, catching your gaze before you can look away. A mischievous smile tugs at the corner of her lips, and she raises an eyebrow, her eyes dancing with curiosity. “What?” she asks, her voice light but with a hint of teasing underneath.

You quickly avert your gaze, focusing on the popcorn in your lap, though you can’t shake the warmth creeping up your neck. You try to play it off, reaching for another handful of popcorn. “Nothing,” you say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray the fluttering in your chest. “Just… enjoying the show.”

She doesn’t buy it, of course. Vi always knows when something’s up with you. She’s perceptive like that, and even now, you can feel her gaze on you, watching you carefully. But she doesn’t press further, for now. Instead, she picks up a piece of popcorn, holding it between her fingers and offering it to you with a small smirk.

“Wanna share?” she asks, her voice teasing but oddly tender.

You take the popcorn from her fingers, your hand brushing against hers in the process. The contact is brief, but it sends a jolt through your body, and you can’t help but notice how your heart skips a beat. You want to say something, but your throat feels tight, your words caught somewhere between your heart and your mind.

Vi’s eyes flicker over to you again, this time a little more intense, the playful gleam in her gaze shifting to something deeper. She turns her body just slightly, angling herself toward you, and the small shift in her posture makes your breath hitch. The space between you feels charged now, more than just the physical proximity. Her presence is overwhelming in the best way possible, like everything else in the room fades when she’s near. And you can’t help but wonder if she feels the same.

You try to focus on the popcorn, on the way the kernels crunch between your fingers, but your mind is too consumed with the thoughts of her. The way her fingers curl around the bowl, the way her breath comes a little faster when she laughs, the way her chest rises and falls with each breath. It’s impossible not to notice how stunning she is, how powerful and beautiful, even in these quiet moments where she’s just… herself.

You take another glance at her. The way her black hair tumbles around her face, the pink tips adding a playful touch to her rugged, battle-worn look. She doesn’t seem like someone who should be sitting on a bed with you, sharing popcorn, watching a kids’ show. She seems like someone who belongs on the frontlines, someone who’s seen too much and fought too hard to ever be this relaxed.

But here she is, with you. And it feels like something has shifted between the two of you, something that neither of you have said aloud, but it’s there, hanging in the air. The tension, thick and palpable, pulls at your chest, at your very soul, and you wonder if Vi feels it too. You wonder if she notices the way your pulse quickens whenever she’s close, or how your body leans toward hers without even thinking.

You know you should say something, but the words feel like they’re trapped, caught in the web of your thoughts. How could you possibly tell her what’s going on in your mind? That you’re afraid to cross that line, to ruin everything by admitting just how much you want her, need her, in a way that goes beyond friendship. How could you admit that you feel something deeper than the playful banter, deeper than the way she always makes you laugh, deeper than the simple touches that leave your heart racing?

You reach for more popcorn, your hands trembling slightly, though you try to hide it. But Vi notices, of course she does. She always does.

“You alright?” she asks, her voice softer now, the teasing edge gone, replaced by something a little more serious. Her eyes are fixed on you, studying you, and for a second, you think she might see right through you, might know exactly what you’re thinking.

You nod, forcing a smile, but it feels stiff. “Yeah, just… tired,” you lie, though it’s not entirely untrue. You are exhausted, in more ways than one. “I’m good.”

Vi doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she leans back against the headboard, stretching her legs out beside you. She turns her attention back to the TV, but you can tell she’s not really watching it anymore. She’s too focused on you, on the subtle shifts in your mood, the way you’ve pulled away just a little bit.

You can feel the space between you widen, and it feels like a chasm you’re afraid to cross. You want to reach out, to pull her closer, to feel the warmth of her body pressed against yours, but you’re scared. Scared of what that might mean. Scared of how it might change everything between you two.

The silence stretches on, thick and heavy, as you both sit there, the room filled with nothing but the hum of the TV and the quiet rustle of the popcorn bowl between you. You can’t help but wonder if she feels the same way, if she’s been thinking about this moment as much as you have.

And then, as if on cue, she shifts again, moving closer to you, her knee brushing against yours. Her body leans just a little more into yours, and the touch is electric. You freeze, your breath catching in your throat, as your heart thuds in your chest. This close, you can feel the heat radiating off her, the tension building between you two like an unspoken promise.

Vi glances at you from the corner of her eye, her lips curling into a small, knowing smile. “You sure you’re okay?” she asks again, this time her voice barely above a whisper. It’s the first time tonight that she’s sounded so… uncertain, like she’s waiting for you to say something, to give her a sign.

You swallow hard, fighting to keep your composure, but the truth is, you can’t. You’re not okay. Not when she’s so close, when her presence fills the space between you, and the urge to reach out, to touch her, to feel her lips on yours, is nearly overwhelming. Every fiber of your being is screaming for you to close the distance, to pull her closer and let go of the fear that’s holding you back.

But you don’t. You stay still, your body aching with the need to reach out but frozen by uncertainty. What if this moment shatters everything? What if it changes the way she sees you? You want more than just friendship, but are you brave enough to take that leap?

Vi’s eyes flicker to you again, and in that moment, everything goes quiet. There’s a softness in her gaze now, a vulnerability that’s rarely there. She’s waiting. For you. And for the first time in your life, you feel like you’re standing on the edge of something beautiful, something terrifying, and you have to decide whether you’re ready to jump.

You just don’t know if you are.

—-

The room is dim, the only light coming from the flickering screen of Vi’s phone. The warmth of the room is a strange contrast to the cool air drifting in from the cracked window, and the quiet hum of the night seems to pull you into a strange, peaceful fog. The two of you are sitting on her bed, a bottle of liquor half-empty between you, the world around you feeling hazy and distant. The buzz from the alcohol dances through your veins, making everything feel a little more vivid, a little more intense, than it usually does.

Vi’s laugh cuts through the air, a low, throaty sound that makes your heart race. The way her eyes glint with mischief, her lips curled in that familiar smirk—it all feels so comfortable, so easy. The tension that usually lingers between the two of you is gone, replaced by something lighter, something that makes you feel like you could just let go. And, in this moment, you do.

You can’t quite place the feeling that’s slowly building inside of you—the warm flutter in your chest that only intensifies the closer you get to Vi. You’ve been here with her before, laughing and joking, but tonight feels different. There’s something in the way she looks at you, in the way her hand rests casually on your knee, as if she’s comfortable with the proximity.

The two of you are sprawled out on her bed, the screen of her phone showing some Twitch streamer’s antics, but neither of you are really watching. The distance between you feels too small, your shoulders brushing every time either of you shifts. And for some reason, it feels electric. It feels like you’re both walking a tightrope, and you’re not sure which direction the fall will come from.

Vi leans in closer, nudging you lightly with her shoulder, a playful grin spreading across her face. “You’ve been staring at me all night,” she teases, her voice slurred just enough that it doesn’t quite sound like the sharp, cocky tone she usually uses. She’s a little drunk, and you’re not far behind. But still, her presence is overwhelming in the best way possible, and the alcohol only makes the desire to touch her, to be close to her, more unbearable.

You laugh, nervously, though your breath hitches in your throat. “I wasn’t staring,” you reply, your words a little more hesitant than usual, and you know she can see right through you. The way your chest tightens, the way your heartbeat speeds up whenever she’s near. She knows, even if you’re not ready to admit it.

Vi raises an eyebrow, clearly not believing you, and before you can say anything else, she moves closer, her body inching toward yours until she’s right beside you. You can feel her breath against your skin, and the proximity is enough to make your pulse race. The distance between you is nonexistent, and you wonder if she can feel it too. The way your body is leaning into hers without thinking, the way your legs are tangled beneath the blanket, making it all feel like an impossible puzzle you can’t quite figure out.

And then, before you can even process it, your face is inches from hers. Her eyes lock onto yours, and for a moment, time seems to slow. Your heart skips a beat, your throat tightens, and the world falls away. It’s just the two of you, in this small room, under the dim light of her phone.

Your hand reaches out almost involuntarily, fingers brushing against the side of her face, and you feel the heat of her skin against your fingertips. Her breath hitches as your thumb brushes along her jaw, the touch so light, so tender that it almost feels like an apology for everything unsaid between you two. But when her gaze softens, and her lips part just slightly, you can’t help it anymore.

You lean in.

The moment your lips meet, everything disappears. The awkwardness, the tension, the uncertainty—it all vanishes in an instant. It’s just you and Vi, your lips meeting in a soft kiss that deepens almost immediately, as if neither of you can wait to feel each other. Her hand is in your hair, tugging you closer, and you feel her body shift as she presses herself against you, the warmth of her skin burning through your clothes.

You can taste the faint hint of alcohol on her lips, the salty sweetness of the drink you shared earlier. But it’s more than that—it’s her. The way her lips mold against yours, the way she moves with such ease, like she’s always known how to be close to you, even when neither of you had the courage to admit it.

Her kiss is slow, deliberate, like she’s savoring every moment, and for the first time, you feel completely at ease. The world outside this room doesn’t exist. There’s no danger, no guilt, no fear. Just the two of you, tangled in each other, with nothing but the warmth of her body and the rhythm of her kiss to keep you grounded.

Your hands move without thinking, your fingers tangling in her hair, pulling her closer, as if you can’t get enough of her. And she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she deepens the kiss, her breath ragged against your lips, her chest pressed firmly against yours. You can feel the weight of her body, the strength in her arms, the way her muscles tense as she pulls you closer, as if afraid to let you go.

It’s a feeling you can’t describe, something raw and overwhelming, and for the first time, you let yourself embrace it. You let yourself feel the way your heart pounds in your chest, the way your body responds to hers, the way everything in you seems to be drawn to her.

The kiss seems to go on forever, and yet, it’s over in an instant. You pull away slowly, both of you breathless, your forehead resting against hers as you try to steady your racing heart. The room feels unbearably quiet now, the weight of what just happened pressing down on you.

Vi’s eyes are half-lidded, her lips slightly swollen from the kiss, and there’s a look on her face—something soft, something that you’ve never seen before. It’s vulnerability, something she doesn’t show easily, especially not when she’s in control, when she’s being the strong, tough woman that everyone knows. But right now, with her body pressed against yours, her chest rising and falling with each breath, she’s letting you see her.

You can barely catch your breath before Vi suddenly breaks the silence with a nervous laugh, her hand running through her messy hair. Her eyes are wide, and the playful glint is back, though it’s tinged with an awkwardness you haven’t seen before.

“Holy shit,” she says, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips. “Uh, well, that wasn’t exactly what I expected… but hey, best friends do stuff like that, right?”

Your stomach drops, the weight of her words hitting you like a punch to the gut. Best friends. You can feel your cheeks burning as you pull back, your heart sinking into your stomach. The room suddenly feels a lot colder, the connection you just shared slipping through your fingers like sand.

You can’t help the way your heart aches, the disappointment settling in your chest. You try to laugh it off, but the sound is hollow. “Yeah,” you say, your voice quieter than you intended. “Best friends.”

Vi, noticing your sudden change, scrambles for a way to lighten the moment. She gives you a soft smile, though it’s tinged with that all-too-familiar defensiveness, like she’s trying to hide behind the bravado she wears like armor. “Hey, come on. It’s cool, alright? We’re fine. Nothing weird here. We’re just… having fun, yeah?”

You nod, though it feels like your heart is a little heavier than it was before. Vi, ever the fighter, is already laughing it off, the awkwardness of the moment fading as she slips back into her usual confident self. You can see the way her eyes dance with the mischief that always seems to follow her, but it doesn’t quite reach you the way it usually does.

“Just don’t get all weird about it,” she teases, poking your side lightly, her grin returning. “You’re my best friend. Nothing more, nothing less. Right?”

You smile weakly, the warmth in her touch not quite able to erase the knot in your chest. But you push it down, letting the tension slip away, telling yourself it’s alright. Because that’s what you do, right? You laugh it off, and pretend that nothing’s changed.

—-

The light creeping in through the window is soft, casting muted shadows across the room. You’re lying in Vi’s bed, the sheets tangled around your legs, her scent still lingering in the air. Her presence, warm and comforting just a few hours ago, now feels suffocating. The memories of last night swirl in your mind like a storm, each flash of the kiss a wave crashing against the shore of your thoughts.

Your stomach twists with a mixture of guilt and longing, and you can’t seem to find the right words to explain what happened, to make sense of it all. The kiss—her lips, soft and insistent, pulling you closer, deeper—lingers like an echo you can’t shake. But the moment it ended, so did the easy flow of everything between you two. Vi had laughed awkwardly, as if trying to pretend it didn’t mean something, didn’t matter. She had called you her best friend. Nothing more. That stung worse than you expected.

You slip out of bed slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible. You can feel the coolness of the floor beneath your bare feet, the weight of the situation pressing down on your chest. It’s easier to slip away now, to run from whatever this is, whatever you’ve created. You don’t know if it’s real, and that terrifies you.

The room is still dark enough that Vi’s absence doesn’t seem so strange, but as you stand there, looking down at the sheets crumpled from where she had slept beside you, a part of you wants to stay. A part of you wants to crawl back into her arms, bury yourself in the warmth of her embrace, forget about the harshness of reality. But you know that’s not what you need right now.

You move toward the door, your heart thudding in your chest. It’s a mess of confusion. The memories of last night feel so vivid, so intense, but you can’t seem to tie them to the person you thought you knew. You don’t want to lose her as a friend. You can’t bear the idea of losing that part of her, of ruining everything you’ve built. So you do the one thing you can—leave.

You don’t make a sound as you pull the door open, stepping out into the hallway with quiet determination. You hear the distant hum of the city outside, the faint sounds of the streets that don’t seem to care about the storm raging inside you. You don’t look back. You can’t. If you do, you might just turn around and fall back into her arms, but right now, you’re not sure that’s what’s best.

The walk home feels longer than it should. Each step echoes in your ears, a reminder that you’re running, running from something you’re too scared to confront. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and your heart skips a beat when you see Vi’s name on the screen. She’s asking why you’re not there, why you left without a word. You want to respond, but the words catch in your throat, too heavy to say. Instead, you leave her on read.

You don’t know why you can’t just be honest with her, why the thought of talking to her—of confronting the kiss, the emotions swirling around you—feels impossible. Maybe it’s the fear of ruining everything you have, of letting this small spark of something more burn too brightly and turn to ash. Or maybe it’s the fear of hearing her say something that will break you, a confirmation that she’s never felt the same way, that it was just a fluke, an accident.

By the time you reach your place, the silence of your apartment is deafening. The weight of your decision settles over you like a thick fog, and you drop your keys on the counter with a soft clink. You stare at your phone, the screen showing Vi’s name again, another text blinking up at you.

You sit down on the couch, pulling your knees to your chest as you try to steady your breathing. There’s no easy way to do this, to fix what you’ve broken by running. The space between you and Vi feels so wide now, and you don’t know how to bridge it. How do you go back to being just friends after what you shared? How do you unfeel what you felt last night?

Your phone buzzes again, and you can’t ignore it anymore. Vi’s text is simple, but it’s enough to make your chest tighten: Please just talk to me. I’m worried about you.

You stare at it, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. There’s so much you want to say, so many things that are stuck inside you, but you can’t seem to find the words. How do you tell her that last night, everything changed? That the kiss—her lips on yours—felt like it meant more than either of you were ready to admit?

And yet, despite your fear, despite the confusion, you find yourself typing a response. It’s brief, almost too simple, but it’s all you can manage for now: I just need some space. I’m sorry.

You hit send, your heart sinking as you do. The second the message leaves your phone, you regret it. The words feel like a rejection, like you’re pushing her away when all you really want is to be closer to her. But it’s too late now.

You lay back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling as the silence presses in around you. You should be asleep, but your mind won’t shut off. Every time you close your eyes, you see her—the way her eyes softened after the kiss, the way she held you close. And then you see the look on her face when she laughed it off, when she called you her best friend. You can’t escape the memory, can’t make it go away.

Your phone buzzes again, and this time, it’s a call. Vi’s name lights up the screen, and you hesitate. You know you should pick up. You know she’s probably worried, maybe even hurt. But you’re scared. You’re scared that if you hear her voice, you’ll fall apart. So you don’t answer.

Minutes turn into hours, and still, the phone sits there, buzzing intermittently with her calls and messages. You can’t seem to bring yourself to look at them, to respond. It’s easier to let the silence continue, to let the confusion settle in. But deep down, you know this isn’t the answer. You know that avoiding her, running from the conversation, is only making things worse.

Eventually, you do pick up your phone. You don’t know why, but you can’t stop yourself. The screen shows another text from Vi, and this one is different. She’s not angry or demanding. It’s simple. I miss you, babe. I just want you to be okay.

The words hit you like a ton of bricks, and suddenly, the floodgates open. The tears come without warning, and you bury your face in your hands, overwhelmed by the weight of it all. You want to be okay. You want to be close to her, to feel that warmth again, but you’re scared. You’re scared of ruining everything.

The flood of emotions threatens to swallow you whole, the weight of the situation pressing down harder with each passing second. The text from Vi, so simple yet so loaded, sends your heart into a tumultuous spiral. You want to run to her, to collapse into her arms and let her make it all feel right again. But the fear, that gnawing fear of what might happen if you do, holds you back.

You sit there, your phone still warm in your hand, staring at the message like it might hold the answers you’re desperately searching for. Your heart aches, torn between the longing to be near her and the paralyzing fear that being vulnerable with her could ruin everything.

You’ve never been good with this kind of thing—feelings, intimacy, the unspoken things that linger in the quiet moments between two people. But Vi? She’s always been different. And now, it feels like the space between you two has become an insurmountable distance, a chasm you’re too scared to cross.

And so, you stay there, in the silence of your apartment, battling with yourself, with the ghost of last night’s kiss and the fear of what it might have meant. You want to reach out, to bridge the gap, but you’re not sure how to.

Eventually, the tears stop, but the ache remains. You’re left alone with the weight of your decision and the overwhelming uncertainty of where you go from here.

And as the night stretches on, you realize one thing for certain: no matter what happens next, things will never be the same.

—-

Vi’s fist slams into the wall, the impact reverberating through her knuckles, and the old brick groans beneath her rage. She doesn’t give a damn about the pain, the bruising on her hand. It doesn’t matter. What matters is you. What you did. What you didn’t do.

She stands there, seething, her body trembling with the force of her anger. Her gray eyes, which usually radiate with defiance and determination, are now lit with a burning fury, barely contained. Her breath comes in sharp, ragged gasps, and the tension in her chest feels like it’s about to explode.

You kissed her. You kissed her, and then you left.

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

Vi runs her hand through her hair, her pink-tipped locks falling messily around her face. The motion is sharp, frantic, as if she can’t decide whether to tear at her own hair or rip through the world to find you. Her mind spins in a thousand different directions, and she can’t quiet the storm inside her. She thought it meant something, but now she’s second-guessing everything.

She’s angry. No, more than that. She’s fucking furious.

The way you looked at her last night—soft, vulnerable—wasn’t the same as the usual playful jabs or sarcastic remarks. No, there had been something else there. And when you kissed her, it felt real, undeniable, like it had been building for weeks, months even. But the second the kiss ended, everything changed. You pulled back, and she had tried to pretend it hadn’t mattered. She had laughed, trying to shrug it off. She called you her best friend—nothing more—but the words felt like they’d been ripped from her throat, forced and jagged. She tried to brush it off. She tried to pretend it didn’t shake her, but now… now she can’t ignore it.

You left without a word. She doesn’t even know where you went.

Every nerve in her body screams to find you. The cold anger in her veins pushes her forward, every step filled with purpose, each moment more suffocating than the last. The city is a labyrinth, but for Vi, it’s nothing more than a playground when she’s pissed. She doesn’t care if she’s tearing through the streets like a madwoman, searching for you like she’s on a damn hunt. She needs answers. Needs to know why you ran. What the hell you’re playing at.

“Where the fuck are you?” she mutters under her breath, frustration bubbling up with each passing second.

Her knuckles crack against the worn leather of her gloves as she walks, fists clenching and unclenching, the angry pulse of her heartbeat setting the rhythm. She’s too wound up. Too restless. Too furious to think straight. And every step feels like it’s driving her closer to the edge. It’s ridiculous, really. She’s not some lovesick idiot. No. That’s not who she is. But the fact that you, of all people, could just vanish like that without even explaining yourself—it makes her want to tear something apart.

She reaches for her phone and checks it again—no new messages from you. The cold, lifeless screen mocks her, and she curses under her breath, throwing the phone back into her pocket as if it’s the one thing standing between her and getting her hands on you. You could’ve at least answered her damn texts. It’s the least you could’ve done after what happened.

You kissed her. And she kissed you back. So what the hell is going on now? Did it mean anything to you? Or was it some kind of sick joke?

Her anger is eating away at her, gnawing at her insides. But there’s more, too—there’s something heavier, darker, buried beneath the surface. A gnawing ache in her chest that she doesn’t want to deal with. She can’t—doesn’t—want to feel it. But it’s there. And it won’t go away.

She’s frustrated. She’s confused. And most of all, she’s hurt. Hurt that you could just leave without a word, without an explanation. After everything, you just walk away, leaving her to try and make sense of it all.

Her heart pounds against her ribcage as she picks up the pace, moving through the alleys and streets with purpose. She doesn’t care if she looks like a lunatic. She’s done being patient. Done playing it cool. No more waiting for you to come around. If you want to avoid her, if you want to run, then fine. But she’s going to find you. She’s going to get her answers, whether you like it or not.

She reaches the place she knows you’re staying—your apartment, the one you always return to when you need some space. It’s quiet when she arrives, too quiet, and for a moment, she stands there, her chest heaving, her fists still clenched tightly at her sides. The tension in her body is palpable, every muscle coiled as she stares at the door, feeling the weight of the decision hanging over her.

What if you’re not even there? What if you’re avoiding her this badly?

But then she shakes it off. She doesn’t care. She’s done being left in the dark. She needs answers. And she’s going to get them.

With a forceful shove, she knocks on the door, loud enough to rattle the frame. Her body is practically vibrating with anger, and she doesn’t wait for a response.

“Open up,” she growls, the words barely restrained as she pounds her fist against the wood again.

Her voice is a mixture of anger and desperation, the need for clarity spilling out in waves. The silence that follows is deafening, and for a second, she wonders if you’re really hiding from her. But then, she hears it—the sound of movement inside, soft but distinct. Her heart skips a beat.

The door swings open, and she’s met with the sight of you, standing there in your pajamas, looking tired, maybe even a little guilty, and she can’t stand it.

Without wasting another second, Vi steps inside, her body language fierce and unwavering. Her gray eyes lock onto yours, burning with intensity.

—-

You didn’t expect this. Not like this. The sharp knock at your door pulls you from the haze of your thoughts, your mind still spinning from everything that’s happened over the last few hours. You don’t even know why you’re still awake. Maybe it’s the guilt that won’t let you rest. Maybe it’s the fear of what’s coming next.

But when you open the door, there she is—Vi. Standing in front of you, her chest rising and falling with every labored breath, her face flushed with the heat of her anger. You don’t even have a chance to process the sight before she’s storming past you, not waiting for an invitation. You stand there, frozen for a moment, before shutting the door behind her.

Her presence is overwhelming, like a storm ready to break. You can feel the tension radiating off her, every muscle in her body coiled with frustration. You open your mouth to say something, but she cuts you off, her voice sharp and raw, almost desperate.

“Do you regret it?” she demands, her gray eyes piercing into yours with a mix of hurt and fury. “Do you regret kissing me?”

The question hangs in the air, heavier than anything you’ve felt before. Your chest tightens, and you open your mouth, but the words don’t come. How can they? You don’t regret it. Not at all. But you can’t bring yourself to say it. Not like this. Not with the way things are between you now.

You shake your head, the action almost automatic. You don’t regret it. You can’t regret it. Not when every part of you still burns with the memory of her lips on yours. You want to tell her that. You want to tell her everything, but something keeps you quiet.

The silence stretches between you two, thick and heavy, until it feels like it’s suffocating you both. Vi’s jaw clenches, her fists tightening at her sides, and for a moment, you think she might explode. But then, without warning, she’s in your space, her hand grabbing the collar of your shirt and pulling you toward her. You don’t have time to brace yourself before her lips crash into yours, fierce and demanding.

It’s not gentle. It’s not slow. It’s raw, desperate, everything you’ve been trying to push away, everything you’ve been denying. The kiss is an explosion, a collision of everything unsaid, every feeling you’ve kept buried under layers of confusion and fear. Her mouth moves against yours like she’s trying to consume you, to make sure you understand that this—this kiss—isn’t just a mistake. It’s something real.

You try to pull away, but she follows you, pressing you back against the wall. Her hands are everywhere—on your face, your shoulders, your back—gripping you like she’s afraid you’ll disappear again. And you can’t help it. You can’t stop yourself from giving in. Her touch is fire, burning away the doubt, the hesitation. All you want is her, in this moment, with all the weight of everything between you finally crashing down in the most intense way possible.

You return the kiss with just as much urgency, your hands sliding up her back, feeling the tense muscles beneath her jacket. You pull her closer, your chest pressing against hers, every inch of space between you disappearing as if it was never meant to be there in the first place.

When she pulls away, you’re both gasping for air, your lips still tingling from the intensity of the kiss. Vi’s gray eyes search your face, and for the first time, you see something different in them. Something more vulnerable, something more than just anger.

She doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. The silence between you two now feels different—softer, like there’s an understanding you’ve both been too afraid to confront until now.

You reach up, brushing a strand of pink-tipped hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering there for a second too long. “Vi…” The word slips out before you can stop it. You don’t even know what you’re trying to say.

She looks at you, her expression unreadable, but you can feel the tension still hanging in the air. She leans in, her lips brushing against your forehead, a fleeting touch that feels so much more meaningful than the kiss you just shared.

“You can’t just run away from this,” she murmurs, her voice low, almost broken. “You can’t keep doing this.”

You want to respond. You want to explain everything, to tell her how scared you are, how confused you’ve been. But the words catch in your throat. Maybe you don’t have the answers yet. Maybe you’re not ready for this.

But as Vi pulls you back into her arms, you know one thing for sure. You don’t want to run anymore. Vi pushes you towards the couch in your living room and you willingly let your body fall upon the soft surface.

“I’ve always thought about fucking you on this couch,” she muttered, her voice low and rough, sending a jolt of heat straight to your core. You could feel yourself grow wet as she pressed her body against yours, her breath hot against your neck.

Before you could respond, her lips were on yours, kissing you with a hunger that made your knees weak. It was messy, desperate, and so fucking perfect. Her tongue slipped into your mouth, and you moaned softly, your hands gripping the fabric of her leather jacket.

She broke the kiss just long enough to mutter, “I can’t pretend that I don’t want you anymore.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but it carried the weight of years of repressed desire.

You pressed a hand over her mouth, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. “Wait… just… wait a moment,” you breathed, your voice trembling.

Vi froze, her eyes searching yours for a moment before she nodded, giving you the space you needed.

“You said that we were just friends,” you reminded her, your voice soft but accusing.

She smirked, her trademark cockiness shining through even in this moment. “I lied, dumbass,” she muttered, her voice dripping with amusement.

“Oh.”

“Oh,” she mocked, her lips curling into a grin before she kissed you again, harder this time. Her hands moved to your shirt, yanking it up and over your head in one swift motion. Your bra followed soon after, her fingers fumbling with the clasp before she tossed it aside.

“Always knew you had a rack,” she murmured, her voice dark and teasing as her hands ran along your sides, up to your breasts. She kneaded the soft flesh, her rough fingers sending shivers down your spine. “Better than I imagined,” she added, her lips grazing your collarbone.

Her hands moved lower, fumbling with the button of your pants. You stopped her with a hand on her wrist, and she groaned in frustration.

“Wait—” you started, your voice breathless.

“Are you fucking kidding—” she interrupted, her brows furrowing in annoyance.

“No, just… you too, asshole,” you pouted, motioning to her jacket and shirt. She rolled her eyes but obliged, sliding her jacket off, pulling her shirt off in one fluid motion, followed by her sports bra. Her muscular torso was on full display, her tattoos and scars telling the story of a life lived hard and fast.

Then she was back on you, her lips crashing into yours as she pulled your pants down the rest of the way. Her hands roamed over your body, tracing every curve as if she were memorizing you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” she murmured, her voice soft but filled with awe. Her hand traced up your bare thigh, her fingers brushing against the damp fabric of your panties.

You gasped as her fingers rubbed against you, your body trembling with anticipation.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” she promised, her voice low and rough as she hooked a finger under the waistband of your panties, pulling them to the side.

Her fingers pressed into your tight hole, and you both groaned at the sensation. “Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” she muttered, her voice dripping with desire as she started to pump her fingers in and out of you.

“Vi…” you whined, your hips bucking against her hand.

She added another finger, scissoring you open as her thumb circled your clit. The pleasure was overwhelming, your thighs tensing as your orgasm built.

But before you could cum, she pulled her fingers out of you, leaving you gasping and desperate. Her hands moved to her pants, and she quickly shimmied out of them, along with her boxers.

She moved back over you, guiding your legs around her hips with a soft murmur and a kiss to your lips. Her hips started rolling against yours, her wetness sliding against your own, creating a delicious friction that made you moan softly.

Vi’s head dropped to your shoulder, her lips nipping at your skin as her hips moved faster, more powerful. You could feel your impending orgasm building, your breath coming in short gasps.

“Oh fuck, Vi…” you moaned, your nails digging into her lower back as she ground against you.

Her hips spasmed locking themselves against yours, and you felt her cum just as you did, your bodies trembling together as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

She collapsed on top of you, her head resting on your bare breasts as you caught your breath. Your hand combed through her hair, your body still tingling from the intensity of it all.

—-

You wake slowly, the first rays of light filtering through the small gap in the curtains. The world outside is still and quiet, but inside the room, everything feels alive. You take a deep breath, your chest rising and falling with the soft exhale, and then you turn your head to the side. The sight beside you makes your heart skip a beat.

Vi.

She’s lying next to you, her body sprawled out across the bed in an almost unrestrained way, as though she doesn’t care that her shirtless form is exposed. The sheets barely cover her, and the few strands of pink-tipped hair that frame her face seem to glow in the early morning light. Her breathing is slow and steady, the rise and fall of her chest giving you a sense of peace that you didn’t know you needed.

Vi’s muscular build is even more striking in the soft light, the way her shoulders roll with each breath, the tattoos that adorn her arms and back reflecting the history of the battles she’s fought. Her body is both a weapon and a sanctuary—a paradox you’ve come to understand better over the last few weeks. She may be fierce and volatile on the outside, but here, lying next to you, she is nothing but raw vulnerability.

You trace the curve of her shoulder with your eyes, following the path of scars that tell stories of a life lived on the edge. The scar on her right brow, the small one on her lip—those marks are part of her, woven into her being like the tattoos on her arms. And despite the roughness of her appearance, the very essence of her—her soul—shines through in the softness of the moment.

It’s strange to think how much has changed in such a short time. Only a few weeks ago, everything between you felt like a battlefield, a constant push and pull of emotions that neither of you fully understood. But now… now, everything feels different. The world outside might be the same, but you’re not the same. You’ve crossed a line you never thought you’d cross, and you’ve done it together.

Your hand instinctively reaches for her, brushing against the warm skin of her back. Vi shifts slightly, her muscles tightening before relaxing again, and you can’t help but smile. Even in her sleep, she’s protective, aware of your presence in a way that feels both comforting and overwhelming.

You gently lift the edge of the blanket, your fingers skimming her smooth skin as you move closer. She stirs for a moment, her gray eyes flickering open briefly before they close again, settling back into the comfort of sleep. You hesitate for a moment, unsure if you should wake her, but then you remind yourself that this—this moment—is yours too.

The sound of her soft breathing is the only noise in the room, and you can’t help but feel the weight of the past few weeks lifting off your shoulders. The confusion, the arguments, the painful realizations—it’s all behind you now. You’ve made it through, and you’re stronger for it.

Her body shifts slightly, her hand instinctively finding yours in the small space between you. It’s a simple act, but it means everything. You squeeze her hand softly, and her fingers curl around yours, pulling you closer to her.

“Hey,” she murmurs, her voice thick with sleep, and for a moment, you’re afraid she might be upset about something. But when she opens her eyes fully and looks at you, you see the warmth there. The same warmth you’ve been craving for weeks. “You awake?” she asks, her voice still rough but tender, like the gentle hum of a quiet morning.

You nod, your lips curving into a smile. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

Vi shifts again, now facing you fully. The sheets fall lower, exposing more of her bare skin, and your gaze lingers, unable to resist the pull of her beauty. The way her muscles ripple as she moves, the way her eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race—she’s perfect in every way.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says softly, her thumb brushing over your knuckles as she leans in to press a kiss to your forehead. “You know that, right?”

You swallow, feeling the weight of her words settle deep in your chest. “I’m glad I’m here too,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. It’s the truth, more than anything. Because even in the chaos, even in the moments of doubt and fear, being here with her feels like where you were always meant to be.

Vi’s eyes soften, her expression shifting from the fierce, cocky confidence she usually wears to something more tender. It’s a vulnerability you’ve come to cherish, something you know she doesn’t show to just anyone. And in this moment, it’s all for you.

You lean in, pressing your lips to hers in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no urgency, no rush. It’s just you and her, the quiet of the morning, and the warmth between you that feels like it could last forever. Her lips are soft, tender—everything you need. The kiss deepens, slow and unhurried, as if you’re savoring every second of it. You let yourself get lost in her, in the feel of her body against yours, in the way she responds to you like she’s just as desperate for this connection as you are.

When you pull away, both of you are breathless, a soft laugh escaping Vi’s lips as she rests her forehead against yours. “You’re trouble, you know that?” she says, her voice teasing but gentle.

You smile, the sound of her laugh filling you with a warmth you’ve never quite known. “You’re not exactly an angel yourself,” you reply, running your fingers through her messy hair, the pink-tipped strands brushing against your skin.

Vi grins, her bright blue eyes flashing with mischief. “True. But I’m your trouble now.”

Her words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of excitement and certainty flooding your veins. She’s right. She’s yours now, and nothing will ever take that away from you.

She pulls you closer, her arms wrapping around your waist as she buries her face in your neck, her breath warm against your skin. “Stay with me,” she murmurs. “Don’t leave.”

You smile, feeling the weight of her words settle in your heart. You’re not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whisper back, your hand gently rubbing her back, feeling the solid muscles there, the scars, the tattoos—all the pieces of her that have shaped her into the person she is today. The person you love.

She lets out a contented sigh, her body relaxing against yours as she closes her eyes once again. You follow suit, pulling her closer, letting the steady beat of her heart against yours lull you into a state of peace.

You’re not sure how long you lie there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the outside world fading away. But in this moment, with Vi beside you, everything feels right. The past is behind you, and the future is something you’ll face together.

There’s no more confusion, no more doubt. Just you and her, the start of something new.

And as you drift off to sleep, the last thought that runs through your mind is how perfect it all feels.

[oaksgrove]

The Best-Kept Secret.

Pairing: Platonic!Task Force 141 x married!Reader

Synopsis: The team always thought you were an enigma—a shadow on and off the field, a soldier with no loose ends. Until a mission in Switzerland leads them to an unexpected discovery: you’re not just seeing someone. You’re married. And while they’ve spent years in combat, dodging bullets and chasing warlords, you’ve been coming home to a soft-spoken bookstore owner who reads you poetry and kisses your forehead. Now, Soap is spiraling, Gaz is amused, Ghost is quietly impressed, and Price is—well, Price already knew, didn’t he?

Warnings: Found family fluff, ridiculous levels of espionage for something completely unnecessary, Soap in emotional distress, Price being the wise dad, and Elias being disgustingly romantic.

Word Count: 2512

The mission in Switzerland had been a success. A long, grueling success, but a success nonetheless. The team was tired, ready to return to base, but as they walked through the crisp, cold streets of a quiet Swiss town,something about you was different.

You weren’t trudging along like the rest of them.

No.

You were practically floating.

You shrugged a little too casually. “Just gonna swing by an old friend’s place. Haven’t seen ‘em in years.”

Price’s sharp gaze flicked to you. Ghost barely tilted his head, but you could feel his stare.

“An old friend, huh?” Gaz asked, crossing his arms.

Price hummed, unimpressed. “That so?”

“Yep,” you said too quickly. “Won’t be long.”

Gaz watched as you adjusted your gloves, the tiny, barely-contained excitement in your movements betraying you. He glanced at Ghost, who tilted his head ever so slightly. They all knew you weren’t lying, not really—but you were definitely hiding something.

You weren’t reckless. You weren’t prone to wandering off alone after missions. And more importantly, you weren’t good at masking excitement.

So, naturally, the boys followed you.

“We’re not seriously doin’ this,” Gaz whispered as they tailed you through the quiet streets.

“Oh, we absolutely are,” Soap shot back, ducking behind a parked car.

Ghost sighed, but he was still here, wasn’t he?

Price—who should have been above this nonsense—was also present, watching you with the kind of intrigue usually reserved for high-value targets.

They kept their distance, moving like shadows through the quiet streets, watching as you walked—not with the usual alertness of a soldier, but with an uncharacteristic lightness. Your shoulders were loose, your pace unhurried, and there was something about your expression—

A smile.

A real one. Not the usual smirk, not the practiced mask you wore in the field, but something soft and genuine, capable of lighting up the entire street.

Soap actually stumbled at the sight. “Bloody hell. She’s glowing.”

Gaz nudged him. “Keep your voice down. She’s happy about something.” noting the bounce in your step, the way you didn’t check your surroundings like you normally would. You weren’t scanning for threats, weren’t walking with the stiff alertness of a soldier.

You looked… soft.

Gaz squinted. “She’s giddy.”

Price stroked his beard, thoughtful. Ghost remained silent, though his eyes tracked every movement.

Then, you stopped.

At a bakery.

The team exchanged confused glances as they watched you step inside, the shop’s warmth fogging up the glass. A few moments later, you emerged with a small paper bag and two hot chocolates. 

Soap narrowed his eyes. “Two?”

Gaz raised an eyebrow. “Why two?”

Price stroked his beard. Ghost tilted his head.

And then, they watched as you walked—still smiling, still oblivious to the four highly-trained operators tailing you. 

Your pace was slow, relaxed, happy. Like you had all the time in the world. Like you were walking toward something you wanted. 

Price had muttered, “She’s meeting someone important.”

And then…

The bookstore.

The moment you reached the door, something shifted.

Soap squinted. “Hold on. Why is it closed?”

The bookstore was dark, the Closed sign hanging in the window. No other customers inside.

And yet—

When you knocked, the door unlocked almost instantly.

A man let you in, smiling as if he’d been waiting just for you.

Tall, dark-haired, charming beard, handsome in a way that wasn’t loud, but deeply noticeable. His glasses sat low on his nose, like he’d been reading before you arrived.

And the moment he saw you, his entire posture softened.

The tension in his shoulders melted, his lips twitching into a familiar smile.

He kissed your forehead, then your cheek.

And the team lost their collective minds.

You handed him the hot chocolate, your own smile bright and warm. He kissed the back of your hand before leading you inside.

Gaz made a choking noise. “She knocked.”

Soap ran a hand down his face. “He closed the whole damn store for her?”

Ghost tilted his head. “It’s… romantic.”

Soap shot him a betrayed look. “Not helping.”

Inside, the two of you walked past the counter, weaving between bookshelves like you’d done it a hundred times before.

He guided you to a corner booth near the window. You were curled into his side, head resting against his chest, the two of you pressed together in that way people do when they don’t even realize they’re gravitating toward each other.

The man picked up a book he had been reading, flipping it open.

Then, as if this whole thing wasn’t already a slap in the face, he started reading to you. 

Like you had never left.

Like this was a routine.

Like he had been waiting for you to come home.

And you let him.

His voice was low and warm as he murmured something in your ear, making you laugh softly. You nudged him in mock protest, but your eyes shone with affection. And without even breaking conversation, he broke off a piece of your pastry and held it up to your lips.

And you ate it without hesitation.

Didn’t grab it. Didn’t protest. Just let him feed you.

Ghost muttered, “She’s so in love, it’s bizarre.”

“She lied to us.” Soap muttered, pacing. 

“She didn’t lie,” Gaz reasoned. “She just… omitted small details.”

Ghost crossed his arms. “She omitted a whole man.”

Price pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, let’s leave her be.”

Soap whipped around. “Are you joking? After all the mystery? After all the secrecy? And it turns out she’s—what? In love?”

Gaz smirked. “It’s kinda sweet, actually.”

Soap gestured wildly toward the bookshop. “Sweet? SWEET? She’s been sneaking off to a romance novel!” 

Ghost’s eyes narrowed. “Wait.”

They all turned back toward the window just in time to see it.

And then—The man reached for the chain around his neck.

Soap squinted. “What’s he doing?”

The man—your husband, they were realizing—slid a ring from the necklace and onto your finger.

Like he had done this before.

Like it had always belonged there.

Ghost exhaled. “Oh.”

Soap made a strangled noise. “No.”

Gaz physically grabbed his arm before he could storm the building. “Mate. Don’t.”

Inside, you ran your fingers over the edge of your ring, smiling softly as he kissed your temple.

This wasn’t new.

This was familiar.

This was home.

Soap put his hands on his knees, trying to breathe. “She’s been married this whole time?”

Gaz leaned back, hands on his hips. “Well, shit.”

Price muttered, “How long?” like a man trying to process an entire alternate reality.

Soap was glaring at nothing. “We’ve been working with her for years. You’re telling me she’s been married this entire time?”

Ghost hummed. “Apparently.”

Soap pointed accusingly at the window. “She doesn’t even wear a ring on duty!”

“Yeah,” Ghost said dryly. “Because she didn’t want us to know.”

They watched as you laughed again, head tilting back slightly as your husband—your actual, literal husband—gently nudged your nose with his.

It was the kind of touch that wasn’t just casual.

It was muscle memory.

Gaz exhaled. “That’s real.”

Soap groaned. “I need to sit down.”

Ghost slapped his shoulder. “You’re already sitting.”

Soap groaned louder.

For a moment, none of them spoke.

The weight of it all settled in, each man processing the absolute bombshell you had just unknowingly dropped on them.

You, the enigma of Task Force 141.

You, who had kept your past tightly locked away.

You, who never shared too much about your personal life.

And yet—here you were, sitting in a small bookstore in Switzerland, drinking hot chocolate with a man who so clearly knew every piece of you.

Price sighed, finally standing straight. “Alright.”

Gaz looked at him. “Alright?”

Price glanced back at the window, then at his team. “She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

Soap made a furious noise. “You’re just fine with this?”

Price gave him a look. The Captain look. “What exactly are you upset about, Johnny? That she didn’t tell us, or that she’s happy?”

Soap opened his mouth—paused—then closed it.

Gaz smirked. “Damn.”

Ghost, still watching you, nodded once. “If it was anyone else, I’d be concerned.”

Soap huffed. “He better be worth it.”

Ghost tilted his head. “Seems like he is.”

Inside, you ran your fingers over the edge of your ring, eyes soft as your husband kissed your temple.

Price exhaled. “Come on. Let’s give them their moment.”

And though Soap grumbled the whole way back, he didn’t argue.

Not this time.

Because despite the shock, the secrecy, and the absolute mindfuck of it all, you deserved this and none of them were about to ruin it.

The evening stretched on inside the small bookstore, wrapped in the kind of warmth that had nothing to do with the heater humming softly in the corner. The cold outside felt like a distant memory, replaced by the cozy cocoon of soft lighting, the faint scent of old paper, and the gentle hum of Elias’s voice as he read aloud from a worn book, his fingers tracing idle patterns against the back of your hand.

The world beyond those four walls didn’t exist. Not the mission, not the war, not the team you knew were drinking in some pub outside.

Just him.

Your husband.

Eventually, reality crept back in—the faint awareness that time was slipping away.

You sighed, your fingers tightening around his. “I should go.”

Elias closed the book gently, setting it aside without breaking eye contact. “Already?”

The disappointment in his voice was soft but unmistakable, a subtle ache beneath the warmth. He reached out, cupping your face in his large hand, his thumb brushing softly along your cheekbone.

“You just got here,” he whispered, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face like he was trying to memorize every detail.

You leaned into his touch, closing your eyes for a brief moment, letting the comfort of him sink in. “I know.”

Elias’s other hand found your waist, pulling you gently closer until you were tucked into his chest, his bearded chin resting atop your head. His embrace was all-consuming, his arms wrapped around you like a shield, like he could hold back the world if he just squeezed tightly enough.

“You’ll be careful?” he murmured against your hair, his voice low and rough with emotion.

You smiled softly against his chest. “Always.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes warm and full of a quiet, fierce love. “I don’t care how good you are out there,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, “just… come back to me.”

Your heart twisted, the words threading through you like a quiet plea. You reached up, cradling his face between your hands, your fingers brushing through the soft edges of his beard.

“I always do,” you whispered back.

And then he kissed you—slow and unhurried, like he had all the time in the world, like the world outside didn’t exist. His hands framed your face, gentle despite their size, grounding you in a way nothing else ever could.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and reluctant, he pressed one last kiss to your forehead, lingering there for a heartbeat longer than necessary.

You slipped the ring off your finger, threading it back onto the chain around his neck. It felt like a promise—silent but understood.

He caught your hand before you could step back, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, his lips lingering as if letting go was the hardest thing in the world.

You smiled softly. “I’ll see you soon.”

His reply was simple but full of weight. “I’ll be here.”

With one last glance, you turned and left, the cold air biting at your face as the door shut softly behind you.

You barely made it through the door before chaos descended.

They knew everything.

Elias Schneider. Bookstore owner. Former Professor. Linguist.

Gaz held up the Google search results like a declassified CIA file. “Big on philosophy and poetry.”

Soap snatched the phone. “So you’re telling me—while we’ve been getting shot at, crawling through mud, dodging missiles—she’s been coming home to some soft-spoken bookstore bloke who reads her poetry?”

Ghost hummed. “Explains the forehead kisses.”

Price exhaled. “Christ. That explains a lot.”

The moment your boots hit the threshold, all four of them were waiting—Soap leaning against the table with his arms crossed, Gaz perched on the arm of the couch, Ghost standing silently in the corner, and Price sitting with that annoyingly calm expression, like he’d been expecting this moment all along.

You didn’t even have time to take off your coat.

“Well,” Soap started, his eyes narrowing as he straightened up, “have a nice visit with your old friend?”

You paused mid-step, arching a brow. “Really?”

Gaz grinned. “Oh yeah. We’re doing this.”

You sighed, letting your bag drop with a soft thud. “You followed me.”

Soap didn’t even try to deny it. “Of course we did! You think we wouldn’t notice you floating down the street like you were starring in some bloody Hallmark movie?”

Price leaned back slightly, arms crossed. “You were glowing.”

Ghost remained silent, but the tilt of his head spoke volumes.

You shrugged out of your coat slowly, pretending to be unbothered, even as heat crept up your neck. “I wasn’t glowing.”

Gaz snorted. “Mate, you were a walking Lifetime christmas movie advertisement.”

Soap pushed off the table, pacing dramatically. “And the pastries! Two hot chocolates with little hearts on the cups? Little hearts, for Christ’s sake!”

You rolled your eyes. “So? Maybe I was just—”

“Oh, don’t even start,” Soap cut in, pointing an accusatory finger. “We saw you. In the bookstore. With the giant.”

Gaz chimed in, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “You kissed him.”

Ghost finally spoke, his voice low and even. “And the ring.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

You sighed, running a hand down your face. “Unbelievable.”

Soap’s eyes narrowed. “How long?”

You crossed your arms, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing you flustered. “None of your business.”

“Oh, it’s very much our business now,” Gaz said, leaning forward with a smirk. “You’ve been married this whole time?”

Price, still calm but clearly amused, added, “We’re just curious. For… team cohesion.”

You groaned, shaking your head. “You’re all insufferable.”

Soap grinned. “But you love us.”

You didn’t answer, but the faint smile tugging at the corner of your mouth was enough.

Price finally stood, patting your shoulder as he passed. “He seems like a good man.”

You paused, glancing at him. “He is.”

And for once, the room settled—no more teasing, no more interrogation. Just a quiet understanding.

But not for long.

“Wait,” Soap blurted out suddenly, turning back to you. “Does he read to you?”

You groaned. “I’m leaving.”

And as you disappeared down the hall, their laughter echoed behind you, filling the safe house with a warmth that had nothing to do with the heat.

[igorluvr]

'MAY YOU NEVER FORGET ME

PAIRING: choi su-bong (thanos) x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: depression had always been a huge issue for you, covering it up with empty joy. so what would happen if you found someone just like you, who was willing to change for your sake?

WARNINGS: heavy angst, mature themes, mental health issues, implied self harm, depression, panic attacks, insecurities, guns, negative self talk, suicidal thoughts/actions!!!!!!, main character death

AUTHORS NOTE: spoiled y’all with tm fluff, gotta remind u shit ain’t sweet round here.

words: [25k]

YOU were never truly "okay". Even though you always claimed to be, faking a smile when on the inside your whole world felt like it was collapsing. The last thing you wanted was for people to worry about you. Because if they did, they might discover the tangled mess of emotions you kept hidden away. Instead, you committed to putting on a face of bravery, drowning your pain in corny jokes and soulless smiles. While your heart still ached with that same emptiness you'd been feeling for years on end, doing this was easier than trying to explain the darkness that lurked beneath your surface.

You dreaded that one day, your facade would crack and everything would come tumbling down, revealing the emotions you tried so hard to protect everyone from. So, you continued to mask your emotions and if you let your act slip, you’d brush it off and tell them you were just tired. Every lie felt like it was putting more weight on your shoulders, but it was weight you were used to carrying.

Deep down you longed for someone to notice that you weren’t okay, to see beyond the smile and recognize the pain. But you knew that you made it almost impossible for someone to notice that anything was wrong.

Or so you thought, until you stumbled across the explosive personality of a man by the name of Thanos. Honestly, you were jealous of how well he carried himself. He seemed to be one of the only people here that was carefree, even if he is pumped with drugs. Looking at him in awe, you wondered how he did it, staying okay in a place like this.

Even though your mind was hyper focused on the eccentric man, you were completely unaware of how you stood out to him almost immediately. It wasn’t because you were annoying and obnoxious like everyone else here, it was because you two were the same.

You had some major personality differences, as you were more on the quiet and bubbly side. But Thanos used to be just like you. So the smile fading when all eyes were off of you, random mood swings, nonstop jokes, constantly tugging your sleeves down the second they rolled up, tears swelling in your eyes when nobody was around. He noticed.

He never got better, though. Just found ways of dealing with it. Using drugs and music as outlets of his depression. Thanos could tell you didn’t have anything like that, just letting all the pain seep in and build up inside of you. He wanted to help you before it got too much, how it almost did for him.

As he approached you, a confused look formed on your face. You’d never said anything to him or saw him look your way, so why was he suddenly trying to talk to you?

“What’s got you in here, babydoll?” he pondered “you look too sweet to be in any debt.”

At first, the sudden interest in your background confused you. You stared blankly for a couple seconds before remembering that you knew nobody else here, so what was the harm in opening up to this complete stranger?

“Student loan debt. Guess that’s what I get for going to an ivy league with barely any money” You laugh. Even though this was sort of a sensitive topic for you, having got into your dream school still having things going wrong, you tried to laugh about it.

Thanos could tell though. He saw the way your smile faltered a bit, how you lost the shine in your eyes. “I like you, stay close to me okay?” He said, eyes focused on you with nothing but pure intentions.

Why did he choose you of all people? There wasn’t anything interesting about your appearance, or how you acted. In that moment, as Thanos leaned back against the wall and settled in beside you, something shifted inside of you.

It was like the burden that weighed you down for so long was briefly lifted to reveal a sliver of vulnerability you kept buried for years. Maybe this strange man, with his wild presence, could see something you had long hid within yourself; a yearning for connection, a wish for someone to see and understand your struggles.

Thanos had broken through the toughness of your spirit, offering warmth and an unexpected sense of safety. Yet, the fear of being vulnerable with anyone haunted over you like a storm cloud, ready to unleash the emotions and secrets you had kept buried.

“Okay then,” Thanos said, breaking the heavy silence, “What’s the full story? It can’t just be student loans and bad choices. You look like you're carrying a world on those shoulders. But hey, I’m no therapist, just an expert in not fitting in.” His laughter was contagious and the sincerity of his tone made you wonder about the details of his own struggles.

Still, despite how much you wanted to reach out, start crying and finally release the burden you'd been carrying so long, you clung to the familiar comfort of masking how you felt, shooting him a quick smile that fell just short of genuine. It was easier to laugh it off than to reveal the chaos waiting inside.

But Thanos wasn’t easily fooled. He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and sympathy. “You know, I used to think if i pushed everything down and ignored it, nobody else would notice my problems, too.” he said with a hint of vulnerability, “So I can see right through your little act sweetheart.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at the nickname but found the corner of your mouth lifting in a slight smile. Maybe it was the way his sincerity cut through your heart, or how his presence somehow felt comforting, like a thick warm blanket swallowing your body on a chilly day.

Thanos noticed your slight grin and raised an eyebrow, his own growing wider. “See? That’s the smile I like to see, we’re making progress here.” He nudged your shoulder lightly with his large ringed hand. “Come on I won’t bite, open up a little bit. Tell me about yourself like... what do like doing in your free time?”

You chuckled softly, caught off guard by his eagerness. “Um… I guess I like listening to music?” Music was one of the ways you ignored everything. As soon as you put your headphones in, it seemed like the world turned to a blur and your thoughts finally silence.

Thanos nodded, leaning back slightly, as if giving you the space to breathe yet still holding you in his gaze. “Music, huh? I get you. There’s something powerful about it. Like… a way we can hear what our voices can’t always express” he observed, seeming more immersed.

You could feel the walls you had carefully built around your emotions start to break, the cracks appearing as you considered sharing more. “Yeah, it’s like an escape” you admitted, voice softening “When everything else gets too loud, it’s the only thing that makes sense.”

He smiled gently, and you could tell he understood the depth of your words. “I get that,” he spoke gently, “It feels good to be able to… find the rhythm in chaos.” His eyes glazed over for a split second, lost in thought, before focusing back on you. “I used to write. Rhymes and lyrics, they were a way to process everything. Like my own therapy session, but with a beat.”

The way he spoke so passionately about making rhymes piqued your curiosity. You didn't take him as the creative type, definitely not poems or lyrics, but there was something about the way he mentioned it that made you want to know more. “You wrote music?” you asked, your tone neutral, but your interest piqued.

Thanos chuckled, low, and rumbling. “Still do, from time to time. Used to be big doing it but that got cut off pretty fast. Tried to let it go but… it's a part of me.” He leaned forward, his eyes taking on an intense glare. “There's something about putting words to a beat that just clicks. Like everything finally makes sense, y'know?”

You found yourself drawn into his passion, the way he spoke about music, it was infectious. And before you knew it, you were smiling again. Feeling a sense of connection with this stranger that you couldn't quite put your finger on.

You leaned in, curiosity taking control of you. “What do you mean it got cut off?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. There was something about how his voice sounded when he said it, as if it were hit with an ache of longing and nostalgia, that made you want to know more.

Thanos’ gaze drifted off, his eyes clouding over like he was remembering something stowed deep into his mind. “I was in a competition, a rap contest” he began, his voice low and cautious. “I made it to the finale, but I fucked up. Forgot my lyrics on live TV.” He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound that sent a wave of sympathy through you. “It was a pretty public embarrassment. After that, I just… lost my drive, I guess. Didn’t feel like I could face the music scene again.”

You tilt your head, your eyes brimming with compassion as imagine how bad Thanos must've felt. “I get why you’d feel that way,” you said gently, trying to offer some advice, “But if music clearly still means a lot to you, why did you stop doing it completely?” you asked with your eyes locked on his, searching for answers in his gaze.

Thanos’ gaze snapped back to yours, like a fire igniting within them. “It’s hard to explain,” he said with a hint of roughness in his voice, “When you're up on that stage, with all those people watching you, and you mess up… it feels like you’re failing in front of the whole world. And for me, it wasn’t just about the music. It was about the persona, the image. When I messed up, it felt like I was losing myself too.” He paused, taking a breath to calm his nerves down. “But even after all this time, I still find myself writing. Like my brain's hardwired to respond to music.”

You felt a connection deepening between you, an understanding that passed the surface-level. “So, do you think you’ll ever perform again?”

Thanos hesitated, his eyes washing over with uncertainty. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice defeated. “Part of me misses it. The thrill of the stage, the energy of the crowd, it was amazing. But I'm also just scared. That failure keeps haunting over me, I don't wanna feel like that again.”

His honesty struck a chord within you. You could see the struggle all on his face, and it made you wish you could help him find that spark again. “It sounds like you're still searching for closure. Maybe you need to reconnect with it,” you suggested tentatively, hoping to encourage him. “Music doesn’t have to be about the fame or the competition. It can just be… for you.”

His eyes twinkled with hope, looking up at you with admiration. "Thank you, seriously," he spoke up, "Never had anyone look out for me like that." Suddenly he grabbed your hand and pulled you closer, his grip warm and reassuring.

From that moment on, you knew you'd made a friend for life. You went everywhere together, always grouping up during games and making sure each other were safe. The two of you were truly inseparable. That was, until the morning of the final game.

There were only 40 contestants left. Having lost many people close to you, shivers ran down your spine as you thought what the last mission would be. Almost every night, you had panic attacks and could barely sleep. After the 2nd game, you and Thanos moved your beds by each other in hopes of it helping the both of you calm down. Tonight, was one of the worst nights for you.

You laid in the dim scenery of the sleeping quarters, blue and red lights bouncing off of the bed frames. Your heart pounded like a drum with each beat echoing your unspoken fears. The weight of uncertainty felt as if it were crushing you, a terrible foreshadowing of the next game looming over your head.

Shadows deepened around you, contorting into horrifying shapes that mirrored the anxieties pounding at your mind. Your breaths came in quick gasps, each one capturing less air than the last. The suffocating fear of what was to come spun out of control.

You tried all the methods that helped in the past, but you couldn't focus on anything. Sweat drenched your body as the oxygen in the room seemed as it were running away from you. In your mind, all you could see were those bodies. All the blood and screams. Only one thought could form in your mind 'what if that were me?'

Beside you, Thanos stirred around, feeling the tension radiating from your body. He turned to face you, eyes flickering open, immediately aware that something was wrong. “Hey,” he murmured softly yet urgently, “what’s going on?”

You had felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you whispered, “I can’t… I can’t do this. I’m so scared, Thanos. What if something happens? What if I—what if you.. die?” The words stuttered out in a rush, drenched with panic, the thought of losing him cutting through your heart like a knife.

Thanos’ expression shifted from sleepy to one of deep concern as he moved closer, his presence a calming force against the storm inside you. He gently took your hands inside his, relaxed and cautiously, and held them tightly. “Listen to me,” he said, voice low and soothing, “You’re not alone in this. I promise I’m going to do everything I can to keep us safe, both of us.”

Your breath hitched, but his gaze stayed on yours. “Remember what we talked about? We’ve been through so much together already. We can get through this too. No game is going to take me from you, not now, not ever.”

His words had felt like a lifeline, restoring you back to the world as you clung to them. You searched his eyes, your heart aching at the truth of what was unspoken between you. “But w-what if I lose you?” you choked out, vulnerable and exposed.

“I’ll fight like hell to make sure that doesn’t happen” he replied, “We’re in this together. I’m not just fighting for myself, I’m fighting for you, for us.” He leaned in closer, his forehead resting gently against yours. “I won’t let anything break us apart. I… I love you.”

His words floated in the air, a fragile yet meaningful phrase that cut through the thick tension of the moment. Your heart stuttered in your chest, caught off guard by the intensity and sincerity in Thanos’ voice.

You swore off of telling anybody that for a long time. But still, you couldn't help but feel the warmth radiating between you, a spark of connection glowing in the darkness. A wave of emotions crashed over you, joy and confusion mixing in a twister of emotions.

For a split second, all of your worries vanished. What laid ahead, the uncertainty of the games, the horrifying fear of loss. All of it faded away with just his 3 words. You swallowed hard, the weight of your anxiety lifting just enough to let something else in; love.

“Thanos…” you said softly, voice trembling as you searched his gaze. The reality of what he said sank in, wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace. You took a breath, steadying your breath, and met his unwavering expression with your own. “I love you too,” you whispered, the words flowing from your heart as if they had always been there, waiting for the right moment to break free.

As soon as you had said it, a wave of relief washed over you. You could see the way his eyes lit up, reflecting authenticity and openness. In that moment, as he pulled you closer, the world outside felt a little less overwhelming. “Us against the world” he muttered into your neck, sealing the bond between you two.

In the safety of his embrace, you lifted your face, letting your forehead rest against his as the tension began to disperse. “No matter what happens, I'm gonna fight for us” you said, your voice steadier now, strengthened by the love that filled the space between you.

His smile widened, showing the strength of his determination in his eyes. “You’re my everything. I won’t let these stupid games take that away from us” he reassured, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

As you sat there, taking in his presence, you felt like it was the perfect time to ask him something that had been on your mind the last week or so. "Thanos," you spoke up, causing his eyes to meet yours again, "what made you come up to me that day?"

His gaze softened a bit, looking down as to avoid eye contact with you. "Well, to be honest, I'm just like you." He admitted. Your eyebrows furrowed, confused as to what he was referring to.

"Y'know, I noticed it as soon as I saw you. I could tell you weren't okay up there, and this place isn't somewhere to be in that state" Oh. You thought you did a good job at hiding it, were you really letting your mask slip that much?

As soon as your mind started racing, Thanos placed his hands on your shoulders. "Hey, its okay. You didn't make it obvious or nothin'. I just didn't want you to get in a bad headspace and not give it your all. I could tell you're strong." He said, eyes flicking down to your wrists.

Quickly, you jerk your arms back. Shit, did they show? You looked back up at Thanos with tears in your eyes, terrified of what he'd think of you now that he saw who you really are. Weak and pathetic

"No no, Its okay. They're beautiful. Shows that you never give up, no matter what." Thanos comforted, face turning pale near the last part. "I'm jealous."

The tears started falling as you took in his words of validation. After years of trying to hide the scars, you finally felt like they were a declaration of your strength rather than a source of shame.

"I've never told anyone this, but now seems like the right time, yea?" He started, causing you to put your full attention on him "You saw my video, right? Of me playing ddakji?"

You chuckled for a bit, "Yea, it was pretty hard to miss"

"Right," he laughed, with a hint of pain. "Before that recruiter found me, I was on a bridge. I felt like I was at the end of my story, ready to let go. Nothing mattered anymore. I lost everything that made me happy. My job, my money, my sense of purpose. I thought I had tried everything else, and there was no other way out."

He took a deep breath, his gaze drifting out toward the blank room. “But then he came out of nowhere, with that stupid fancy suit. He asked if i wanted to play ddakji. Said if I won, he'd give me 100,000 won. It wasn't a lot but its better than nothing right?"

His eyes met yours, a flicker of resistance igniting within them. “I thought, what’s the worst that could happen? If I lost, I’d still be back where I started. But if I won… maybe there was hope after all.”

He ran a hand through his wild purple hair, a mix of relief and regret washing over him. “I never thought calling that number would lead me here, to this moment. It’s crazy how a simple choice can change everything. Y'know, it’s in our darkest moments that we find the light. I’m still scared, but I’m fighting now. For myself, and for those who can’t fight anymore.”

"But I saw you still had that fight in you, you just needed a push. And I wanted to be that for you" Thanos sighed.

Even more tears ran down your face but this time, the same went for him. You never thought that someone would actually take this much effort, especially in a situation like this, to look out for you. You didn't think you mattered that much to anyone.

The two of you laid down in your now shared bed, holding each other tight as to not lose one another, and slowly drifted into sleep.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ✦ ‧₊˚ ⋅

As the lights slammed on and intercom went off, you felt a familiar void in your stomach. As if on cue, Thanos rubbed your hand gently, bringing you immediate comfort. "Im right here, baby. N' Im not goin anywhere." A slight warmth rushed to your face as his words replayed in your head, maybe everything was gonna be okay after all.

You waited for what seemed like hours for them to bring food out, but it never came. It seemed as if you were getting less and less food as time went on. Was this on purpose to make everyone weaker? You didn't know, but it was definitely taking a toll on you.

Both of you stayed within an arms length of eachother the whole time. Even until they announced everyone to line up to enter the final game.

Thanos walked directly infront of you, holding your hand as you made your way through the stairs splattered with an arrangement of colors. The first time you walked though them, it seemed so colorful and full of life. Now, it just seemed dull.

As you walked into the near pitch-black room with red led lights tracing the walls, you felt your heart drop. Something wasn't right. Your stomach turned in a terrifying way as you held onto Thanos, scared of what's to come.

He's learned your behavior and what your actions mean, causing him to pull you closer. Thanos was aware of how easy you get anxious, and how bad it can get. And he felt as if was his job to protect you from all your worries.

Unbeknownst to you, though, Thanos felt the exact same way. He didn't know exactly what it was, but something about this particular game felt uneasy. In an attempt to stay strong for you, he cleared his throat and spoke up.

"Don't let go of me okay? Its dark as shit in here I can barely see" He laughed, trying his best to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Your palms got sweatier by the second as the both of you walked deeper into the room, occasionally bumping into people. Eventually, you heard the instructions come on the speaker.

"Please, split into 4 equal groups based off of your previous votes. Two "X" groups of 10, Two "O" groups of 10. You have 5 minutes" Immediately after, the red lights started blaring, just how they did during the mingle game. Your heart stopped as you heard that. Thanos hadn't gotten a chance to change his vote, were the two of you going to be separated during the final game?

“No!” you cried out, the word bursting from your lips like a desperate plea, hoping something, anything will change. “Thanos, we can't—”

“I know,” he interrupted, his eyes wide with fear, reflecting the same mix of urgency and determination as your own. “We got to find our groups before it’s too late.”

Why? Why was this happening now? Your mind raced as panic set in. The room felt stifling, the air thick with dread and uncertainty. You could feel the tension radiating off the players around you, their whispers and shuffling feet blending into a chaotic symphony of anxiety.

The chilling announcement echoed in your ears “4 minutes remain”

You could feel the pull of the frenzied crowd, the inevitable separation haunting you like a distant nightmare. You pushed through the horde, each step heavier than the last, your heart racing as you caught a glimpse of something, a cluster of players forming with that familiar 'X' patch on their chests.

“Thanos, look!” you shouted, your eyes locking onto the group that was gathered before you. “That’s my group!”

“Go, I’ll find mines.” Thanos urged, his grip on your hand loosening even though his eyes fought against losing you. “Just remember what we talked about. Keep pushing even if it seems impossible. Ill be waiting for you when we get out.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you began to pull away from him. “I can’t believe this is happening...” you whispered to yourself as the despair finally settled in.

With a final hug, his warmth wrapping around you like a comforting blanket, your hands slipped apart. The distance between you suddenly felt colossal, the amount of space between the both of you increasing with each passing player. Thanos was officially lost to the shadows.

Your heart pounded alarmingly in your chest as you joined the half of your “X” group, forcing yourself to focus despite the panic. You scanned the players, assessing the strength of the new faces around you. Were they reliable? Would they betray you?

A few familiar players joined the formation alongside you, Dae-ho and Jun-hee murmuring quiet reassurances to one another. “We can do this,” The taller man said, eyes darting around the group as the tension thickened.

But as more players continued to merge into smaller clusters, the reality set in, you had to push forward alone, even if your lover felt impossibly distant.

Just as you were being further swept into a crowd of new allies, the loudspeaker croaked out another instruction yet again. “Participants, please stick closely with your chosen group. As you do this, make your way towards the door ahead.”

You took a deep breath, shaky with uncertainty. The door ahead shone like a gateway to the unknown. The murmurs of strategizing and encouragement filled the air, a strange mix of comfort and anxiety filled your body as you tried to tune out everything around you.

Dae-ho nudged you gently, his voice steadying. “Stay focused. We’ll work together and beat this, okay?”

You nodded, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety overwhelming you. “Yeah” You muttered, hearing your heartbeat in your ears, a persistent reminder of the stakes. As each group stepped closer to the door, the pink soldier with a bold circle on it's mask stopped everyone.

"Which group will be going first?" The soldier spoke, in a slightly distorted voice.

After a couple seconds of quiet mutters between every team, the leader of the other X group, the man from the previous games, spoke up.

"We'll go. This might be similar to a game I've done" He announced. Your group swiftly moved out of the way to allow his team to go. One by one, they walked through the door. As soon as the final member made their way through, the mechanical door forced shut, cutting off any view of the inside.

Waiting felt like an eternity. The tension in the air grew thicker as each team member shifted nervously. You could sense the anxiety growing in them. Whispers arose among your group, forming predictions on what may be beyond that door, but none could compare to the despair of reality.

About 10 minutes after the first group entered, they began calling for the next one. As your team was next in line, the guard signaled you all to go inside the door. Your heart dropped as you gave Thanos a final look back, tears in your eyes as you dread what's to come.

The scene infront of you was immersive. The room was bright, like a carnival. There were big glowing lights everywhere. As you stepped through the door, a chilling rush of air slapped against your face, carrying with it an overwhelming sense of dread. Before you knew it, the line of people suddenly stopped, causing you to faceplant into the person before you.

"Wait!" Someone yelled, "We're on a platform.."

As you peaked around the group, you saw how high up you were. There were horizontal poles coming from the ceiling, resembling something that you knew all too well.

"Welcome players. Allow me to introduce you to the sixth and final game: Monkey Bars. The rules are simple. Every member of your team must traverse a series of monkey bars before the timer hits zero. But beware, missing a bar and falling will result in immediate elimination."

As murmurs of fear rippled through the group, you took a deep breath to steady yourself. Even though Thanos had been drawn away, you couldn’t afford to lose. You needed to use all of your strength to complete this game while holding onto hope that you would see him again.

But deep in your gut, you feared that fate had other plans.

You glanced down, your heart racing as you tried to make sense of the distance to the ground. It felt like a dizzying drop, one wrong move could mean the end of everything you fought so hard for. Your teammates exchanged worried glances, each of them struggling with their own fears and doubts.

You could hear the faint beeping in the background, the sound growing louder with each passing second. The adrenaline rushed through your veins as you clenched your fists, surveying the area once more so you fully understand what you're getting yourself into.

As the countdown hit zero, the timer's blaring sound echoed through the venue like a gunshot, triggering a surge of chaos. One by one, players launched themselves onto the first bar, swinging forward with determination. They attempted to coordinate their movements, using a tactic similar to the one in the 6-legged race.

With the rhythm of jumping every two counts guiding them, you carefully watched as some moved gracefully while others struggled and faltered, their cries of panic bouncing off the walls. The sight of watching your peers slowly fall to their death put a sick feeling in your stomach, the mushy 'splat!' as they hit the floor making you want to throw up.

Before you knew it, it was your turn. The immense pit of fear in your stomach twisted tighter as you leapt forward, grasping the first bar with both hands. The initial swing was thrilling yet terrifying, anxiety clawing at you with the fear of falling. You forced yourself to stay focused. Inch by inch, you moved, feeling the strain in your muscles as you reached for the next bar.

“Come on, keep going!” someone shouted from behind you, their encouragement pushing you forward. Each bar you grabbed felt like a small victory, but you knew you still had much more to go, taking tiny glimpses at the amount of bars left. You could hear gasps from teammates behind you after slipping off a bar, causing them to fall and add to the pile of gruesome bodies gathering below you.

Seeing all those bodies at the bottom caused your overthinking to kick in at the absolute wrong time. What if you fell? What if you died? Desperation clawed at you as you reached the halfway point. The metal bars were slick with sweat and your palms felt numb, grip faltering. But the thought of Thanos pushed you onward, a reminder of everything you had to lose—and everything you were fighting for.

From then on, with every swing, hope swelled within you. This could be the moment that changed everything. That fleeting memory of Thanos pushed you further than you ever thought. You remembered his words "Keep pushing even if it seems impossible." and it fueled you like never before. Your heart raced, a mix of determination and dread flooding through you.

Taking a deep breath, you used every ounce of determination in you and pushed forward once more. With one final pull, you swung to the last bar, the end platform finally coming into view.

As you landed safely, a rush of euphoria washed over you. You’d made it! The cheers from your team resonated around you, but there was no time for celebration just yet. You turned back to the others, knowing that many were still grappling with their own struggles.

“Keep going!” you shouted, your voice hoarse but filled with fervor. “You can do this!”

With your encouragement, you watched as your teammates found the strength to push themselves forward, unified in the fight for survival in this relentless game. Hope flickered within you, a feeling you wished would carry all of you to victory.

As your team finished the challenge, you felt your nerves calm down. There were some that didn't make it, but the majority did and you were happy for that. The timer still had a minute and 20 seconds left, everyone spent their time talking and calming down. One thing that confused you, though, was that the other half of the 'X' group was still there from when they finished. If they completed the game, shouldn't they be able to go back to their own room?

Just as the thought started to worry you, the buzzer rang through the room, signaling that your remaining time was now up. You expected to be taken to the sleeping quarters, but there were no guards, not even a door on the side you stood on.

The first half of the 'O' group walked through the entrance, and your heart exploded as you saw a face you grew to love. It was Thanos. You could see a familiar intensity etched across his brow. He was in his element, ready to confront the challenge ahead.

The second you locked eyes, his face glowed in admiration. Time seemed to freeze as the noise around you faded, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

Your exchanged gazes were cut off by the blaring buzzer, signaling the start of his team’s round. He straightened his posture, expression changing swiftly from admiration to fierce determination. With a quick glance back at you, he locked eyes one last time. A silent promise passed between you, he would give his absolute all.

Soon enough, the familiar purple head of hair caught your attention. He was about to start. It felt like you were the one on the bars as you watched him make his way across. As he took a deep breath and launched himself into the challenge, it was like the ground beneath you shifted. You were completely focused, holding your breath with each swing he took.

Every struggle and grunt made you flinch. Watching the players make their way across the stage, you tried to distract yourself from the fact that your boyfriend was right behind them, fighting for his life.

Even though he seemed to be making it across fairly okay your heart still beat profusely. At some point, you decide to turn away altogether, saving yourself from the pain of watching. While you sat there with your eyes glued closed, trying to shield yourself from the people before you, you feel a tap on your shoulder.

Slowly, you pull your head up, not wanting to face reality. But the person you were stressing so much over was standing right infront of you. Thanos stood there, a mix of adoration and relief flooding his face.

His chest rose and fell rapidly, proving how much the previous game had tired him. You could see faint layer of sweat glistening against the harsh lights above, but none of that really mattered. What mattered was the warmth in his eyes as he leaned in closer, hugging you tightly as to calm himself down.

“You okay?” His voice was soft yet urgent, a contrast to the loudness of the everything around you. With this, you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I was watching, It was..”

“I know,” he interrupted gently, a soft smile creeping onto his lips. “But I’m here now.”

Your heart swelled, despite the noise and yells from the crowds around you. It was such a relief to see him unharmed, standing tall and ready for anything. The moment slowed as you both just stared at each other, words slipping away.

Unfortunately, your moment got cut off, like always, by the instrusive 10 minute timer going off. While the next group made their way in, the two of you just laid there, taking in each others presence before the games ended, for good.

It felt like you were floating, like nothing around you mattered and the two of you were the only people on earth. As you drifted deeper into this peaceful haven you knew that nothing could ever break the bond that you shared with Thanos, a bond that was forged in tough times and deep emotions.

But as they say, there's always a calm before the storm.

The final team completed the challenge before you knew it, and the whole room erupted with cheers. We were finally able to go home. This whole time, all the tears and fighting was worth it. Thanos kissed you passionately as to celebrate the win, or what seemed like a win.

All of the applause were cut short by that nerve-wracking intercom coming back on. "Dear contestants, congratulations on completing the first part of the game! 24 players now remain."

Your heart stopped as you heard those words. First part..? Didn't we finish the games? You looked up at Thanos in disbelief, hoping to get some type of comfort. Instead, you were met with a face of pure terror.

All the color was drained from his cheeks as his mouth hung open out of shock, he looked like he'd just seen a ghost. Panic surged through you, overpowering the joy of victory. You exchanged glances with the others in the room, confusion and dread painting their faces, mirroring your own fears.

The intercom continued, its voice cold and mechanical. “The rules for Phase 2 are the same as Phase 1: There is a time limit of 25 minutes for all remaining players to return to the opposite side of the room. Please proceed with caution.”

25 minutes? That isn't nearly enough time to get everyone across. Your uneasiness grew as players started to shuffle around in worry, adding onto your anxiety of already being high up. The timer blared through the room, signaling the start of phase 2.

Player 456 took initiative and stepped infront of everyone, coming up with a plan. "Everyone, follow my lead. A person will join in every 3 bars, be careful and don't panic. It will slow you down and cause everyone to mess up."

Soon after his speech, he took a leap onto the bar, causing the countdown to begin. Everyone followed his orders, joining in every 3 bars. It was all going smoothly up until it was nearing your turn.

You watched as the team excelled, most pushing though the dismay and making it to the end. Others weren't as lucky, losing their grip and falling to their deaths.

Thanos insisted on going after you, claiming it would help him stay focused and remember what he’s fighting for. You agreed quickly, finding his words endearing, completely oblivious to the true reason for his actions.

Unbeknownst to you, Thanos had gotten an arm injury in one of the previous games, which progressively worsened. He didn’t tell you because he didn’t want you to worry any more, but he could feel himself losing strength. Especially with this final game being physical, Thanos knew this was his last chance to be with you.

Instead of telling you his true feelings, that he was sure this would be his last time seeing you, he decided to protect your heart for now. After all, isn’t that what he approached you to do?

As the person before you made their way onto the bars, Thanos pulled you in for a tight, unknowingly final hug. You weren’t sure why he did this, or why it felt so much more different, but you appreciated it.

“Please, try your hardest okay? Don’t give up no matter what.” He muttered, face stuffed in the crook of your neck. Before waiting for a response, he gently grasped your face with both hands and pressed his lips against yours in a long, passionate kiss that left you breathless.

His mouth moved with a desperate urgency, as if savoring every second you had left together. The kiss was like a goodbye, a promise of forever that lingered even as it came to an end.

You jumped on the bar, full of life. All your strength kicked in at this moment as you used Thanos’ words to power you through. The muscles in your arms burned as you worked through the challenge, but his presence fueled your determination. You couldn’t let him down. Not now.

The crowd roared around you, their cheers blending into a rhythmic chant that kept pace with your heartbeat. Looking back at Thanos, you saw his face pale with anxiety. You wanted to assure him that everything would be alright, but you were too focused on pushing past your limits.

As the minutes ticked by and the final bar loomed ahead, you felt doubt creep in—what if you weren’t strong enough? What if all the fighting, all the trouble from the last games led to this moment and you were about to fail?

You took a final look back, wanting to see Thanos' face in hopes of it pushing you through the last half of the course, but instead get met with a face of sheer terror. Thanos' face was full of raw desperation, his eyes wide and glistening with an unsettling mix of fear and disbelief.

The usually relaxed lines of his jaw tightened, showing a weakness that sharply contrasted with his earlier mood. Unbeknownst to you, this was the moment he finally understood the weight of his looming defeat. He knew the end had come, but why did it have to be with you right in front of him?

Thanos' arms buckled as he attempted to push through, to use all his remaining energy to make it to the end. Each swing grew heavier as the bars beneath his hands grew slick with sweat. His heart raced, not just from the pressure but from the dread settling in his gut. A shadow of hopelessness flickered through his mind.

“This can’t be it,” he thought, clenching his jaw as he struggled to swing himself forward. Not like this. Not now. His gaze flickered to you, hanging off the bar 3 ahead of him, eyes wide with concern and shimmering with tears.

Memories of your laughter echoed through his mind, light and warm against the harsh reality of these games. He remembered those nights spent talking about dreams and futures, the plans you constructed together so effortlessly. All the times you had smiled at him, with that light in your eyes that made his heart swell, igniting a fire deep within him that he didn’t know he had left.

But now, did it even matter? The cruel thought twisted in his chest like a knife. He fought through so much, lost everything, only to get this close to the one thing he wanted most; true, undeniable love. And now it felt like sand slipping through his fingers, the more he struggled, the more he was losing.

As he swung on the next bar, his grip faltered for just a moment, and unlike every other time before, he felt fragility creep into his bones. The voice within him began to scream, demanding him to give up, that it was all over. Why keep fighting when the odds felt impossible?

But he had to move, for you. He gritted his teeth, forcing his body forward, fatigue clinging to him like a leech. With every swing, he felt a crack in his pride, a familiar emptiness growing in him as his thoughts flooded with anxieties.

He remembered the warmth of your hands in his, the gentle touch that made every battle feel worth it. Each moment spent with you had become a lifeline in this place, a source of hope he never thought he would have again.

As he took another swing, desperation fueled him, but quickly it faded. His muscles trembled, stabs of pain shooting through him. A vision of you, radiant and pure, tugged at his heart, and a sob caught in his throat. This was truly the end for him.

You tried not to turn back, hearing how much Thanos was struggling. You didn't want to see him like that. As the fight to the end continued you only had one thing on your mind; how happy the two of you would be after all this.

As you moved forward, a raspy voice came from behind you. "No…" Thanos murmured. Overcome by curiosity, you glanced back slightly. What you saw brought tears to your eyes.

You saw Thanos clutching the bar tightly with raw desperation, the last ounce of strength draining from him. He locked eyes with you, wanting nothing more but to keep going for you, his girl. But before he could think further, his body betrayed him. His fingertips slipped, a sudden loss of control, and time felt like it stretched endlessly.

Every memory, every smile, every hopeful dream flickered through your mind. The plans you had made, the laughter you shared, the quiet moments when everything else faded away and it was just the two of you.

But now, with horror pinching at your heart, you watched him fall. In that split second before he vanished from your sight, you saw the mix of fear and regret cross his face. It was a sight you would never forget, a moment where everything he had fought for clashed with the dreaded reality of loss.

As he disappeared from view, you felt your heart shatter into a thousand pieces. The warmth of your shared moments was replaced by an empty void, every hope for a future together gone in an instant. The world around you moved on, but you were frozen, trying to grasp the reality of what just happened.

You watched as Thanos, your first true love, fell to the ground becoming nothing more than another body added to the pile below. You faltered, unable to tear your gaze from the spot where he had been.

And in those final moments, as he hit the ground, with a pain that felt both devastating and liberating, he saw your face flash before him, etched forever in the depths of his heart. A love that would transcend even death. For a heartbeat more, he hoped that you would find your way through this cruel world, even if he could not be there to protect you.

A suffocating silence enveloped you, an immense contrast to the chaos that had erupted just moments before. The fight within you dispersed, replaced by a crushing sense of helplessness. Your only reason to keep going had just faded. You sloppily pushed your way to the end, fighting the urge to simply give up.

Finishing the challenge didn't excite you anymore. As you heard the announcement stating the end of the games, all you could think about was how you just lost the only person worth fighting for.

You could've did something, anything. Why him? Why couldn't it be you? The whole experience was bittersweet. As the screen displayed the amounts of money everyone would receive, there was no sense of happiness within you. Just a hole in your heart, one only Thanos could fill.

But now he's gone and you feel worse than ever. You didn't care about the money anymore. Sure, you were no longer in debt, but it wasn't worth losing your best friend. The money felt like an insult, a shallow victory overshadowed by the emptiness left in his death.

The days drag on. Every morning, you wake up hoping things will feel different, but the same sadness greets you like an unwanted shadow. You feel lost in a world that keeps moving forward while you’re frozen in the moment where you lost it all.

Eventually, the sadness becomes overwhelming, and you find yourself spiraling back into darker thoughts. Feelings of hopelessness creep in, and it’s hard to escape them. You start to think that maybe it would be easier if you just didn’t have to feel anything at all. That maybe not being here would take away the pain for good, and you catch yourself wondering if anyone would truly miss you.

Those thoughts frighten you, but they also exist in the quiet moments when everything else feels unbearable. In the times where there nothing to focus on but your thoughts and trauma, you wonder if it's worth it.

Nobody would care. Family hasn't called in months, friends cut you off. You were an embarrassment to be around. The thoughts kicked in harder, and you started to think of plans. Time, place, and opportunity; those were the 3 key things you needed to consider if you went trough with it.

But as you sit there, a small flicker of doubt creeps in. You remember how you used to laugh, how you once loved to share stories and connect with others. Remembering these times, your heart aches at how you took it for granted.

You would give anything to go back to those days. When you didn't have to worry about debt, being able to go out with friends everyday. Now the world seemed gray and lifeless. You felt like a ghost, simply floating through the stages of life, not truly taking in anything.

A week passes since you've been out the house, and you still haven't left your bed. The sheets cling to you like a magnet, but they suffocate you too. You haven’t showered in days, the thought of standing beneath the water feeling like an unruly task. Instead, you find comfort in the bundle of your blankets, where you can hide from the world and the relentless demands of life.

Your body feels sluggish as hunger pangs occasionally reminding you of your needs, but preparing food or even grabbing a snack seems overwhelming. It’s easier to ignore it, to push it aside and focus on trying to silence the chaos in your mind. You scroll endlessly through your phone, searching for distractions, but nothing holds your attention. You feel disconnected, like there's a glass wall between you and everything else.

Another week passes, the same exhausting loop continuing. Everything was genuinely draining, and you were tired of it. Breathing felt like a chore, and you could barely find the strength to get on your phone. So, you decided that it was time. Time for all your thoughts to silence and pain to finally stop.

You remembered the gun you kept in your bedside drawer, for "safety" reasons. It was never put to use, so maybe now was the time. Picking it up, you made sure it was fully loaded. You didn't want to regret this, not after everything that's happened.

Being your first time out the house in weeks, you drove to a faraway forest, making sure it was in a desolate place nobody would even think of visiting. The drive was about 2 hours long, causing it to be pitch black upon arrival. There hadn't been any cars for the past 45 minutes of driving, just how you wanted.

As you picked up your phone for the first time in almost a week, you noticed that there were hardly any notifications. It became clear that they really didn’t care. Looking up slightly, you noticed the time "11:38". Time, place, and opportunity.

All you could think about was Thanos. You'd promised him not to give up, but you had to. You thought back to his previous words, "it’s in our darkest moments that we find the light." Hearing his words repeat in your head made you realize, he was your light.

He'd came out of nowhere, sweet-talking you and washing all your worries away. For that week you'd known eachother, you were the happiest you'd been in a while. There wasn't a single time you considered doing something awful to yourself.

But now that he's gone, it seemed like you were in worse shape than before. You were bad, but not enough to be standing in the middle of the woods with nothing but your phone and a gun.

You shivered as the cool air from the wind hit your face. The dark, silent setting brought you uneasiness. You were finally alone. Raising the firearm to your head, your mind started racing. Was this really it? Is this how it ends?

The weight of the gun brought fatigue to your weak arm, being severely malnourished and exhausted. You felt horrible to break Thanos' promise, not being able to keep pushing anymore. The guilt hit you like a bus.

Suddenly, all your emotion intensified by a hundred. You felt a mix of anger and depression swirl though your body as you gripped the gun tighter. Every negative feeling abruptly switched onto you, leaving you with nothing but self-loathing.

Without thinking, you pulled the trigger. You felt a flash of agonizing pain as the thick bullet pierced through your skull. All of your pain was swiftly replaced with absolute serenity, as if the chaos of your life had finally unraveled.

As your awareness faded away, all you could think about was Thanos. How he held you when you started panicking, understood your body language, and connected with you like no one else did.

You'd reunite with him for good this time.

[soleilapproves]

Lucid Submission - chapter 3

Synopsis: Sukuna Ryomen is reborn as a human being as punishment for ruining the balance of good and evil in the divine realm. To lift his curse and return to his original form, the former demon king must complete the condition bestowed upon him by the deities. Except it can only be done by having a child with the street thief who stole his coin pouch.

fanfic masterlist

You couldn’t bring yourself to sleep that night. You could feel each tired vein in your eyelids latching on to every bit of rest they could get every time you blinked. You looked down and cursed yourself for being so fearfully compliant with your new husband. His heavy arms encased around you like he was sure you would run away. 

He chuffed like a stallion every time he snored into your neck, terrifying you to your core as you tried to make as much space between yourselves as possible. Of course, your efforts were in vain as he made sure that you would not be able to move an inch while lying next to him. Much too paranoid about his ‘pearl disappearing.’

The rest of the day after the wedding was dull. Uraume had left with Sukuna for some urgent merchant business (apparently, he controlled many ports around the area), while Yuuji and Megumi went to train little children at a local school. Nobara wasn’t much of a conversationalist, only choosing to observe you–possibly to see how you could plan to escape.

Your life as a thief wasn’t as exciting as being a rich wife, but at least you had the repugnant thrill of constant aversion. All the riches that came with being Sukuna Ryomen’s wife made you cautious, like your new comfortable lifestyle would be snatched away as soon as you got used to it.

But it wasn’t like you planned to stay that long anyway. Any kind of freedom was going to be better than staying as an egotistical rich man’s wife–a life so suffocating and mundane that even the poor wouldn’t dare dream of living it. 

The claustrophobia was now in its final course of setting into the core of your chest. You scratched and slapped the arms that held you, hoping for some kind of relief. Mental or physical. Sukuna grunted and simply turned, taking you with him. Your body now splayed on top of his, arms holding you still against his chest as your face mushed against his collarbone. His scent enveloped you even more, now becoming the air you breathed. If you didn’t crave worldly freedom so much, you would’ve held your breath and surrendered to a supposed afterlife. 

“Lord Sukuna, I wish to ask you something,” you mumbled into his neck. The man didn’t even let out a grumble of acknowledgment. “I also cannot breathe.” 

Your husband yawned loudly as he mumbled incoherent words. The deep rumble in his chest managed to jolt you like you were a feeble doe. Legs quivering and heart racing. He wasn’t much different from an animal, either. A monstrous bear, tiger, or any uncomfortably large and loud beast would suit him best.

He rolled you back down to the mat you two were sleeping on. However, before you could get up and finally breathe air that didn’t smell like herbs and possibly blood, the man rolled on top of you, pressing his heavy frame on your body. You were afraid that he would be able to feel your racing heart with the way his chest pressed flat against yours. At least his eyes were closed, so he couldn’t see your sheer terror.

“You must take me for a fool if you think that I am falling for your little thief tricks. Lying and scheming are your forte, are they not?”

“Lord Sukuna, please, let your wife at least live for a few days before killing her. It will give you more satisfaction,” you quipped, prideful even during your panicky state. His eyes squinted as he stared down at you.

“Tongue still sharp as ever, even in the dead of the night. Had I been in my former glory, you would not have been so quick to reply like that.” 

“My sharp tongue comes with my body that you have forcefully married.” His tired red eyes rolled at your response. “What is it that you wished to ask me, wife?” You try not to shiver at his reference to you. 

“I wish to… relief myself.” 

He silently blinked at you before groaning and pulling out a small pebble from underneath his side of the tatami mattress. He threw it across the room, hitting the paper sheet of the sliding door. Curious, you frowned at the sound of slight rustling outside your room.

The door slid open to a grimacing Nobara. “At least warn me before I see something like this.” You could see her blench as she rubbed her eyes.

You gasped as you pushed your husband off, who was now more compliant with you. You yanked the covers off you and threw them at your husband, who was lying with his arms across his face. “You are lucky I am tired, wife.” 

Your chest ached slightly when you saw the tatami mattress right outside your bedroom door. Your years of hardship may have turned you a little selfish, but you still had a heart. It felt like seeing a bleary-eyed little sister waiting for you after your long journey.

“Were you cold?” you asked as you followed her out to the water closet. “I have not felt even the chill of spring nights under the care of Master Sukuna,” she responds curtly. 

You stop in your tracks, and so does she. The snow blankets everything—all your thoughts, worries, and concerns. “I do not actually want to go to the water closet. I just wished myself a moment. If it is possible, can we sit outside for a few minutes?” 

It felt strange asking someone younger for permission, but you let it slide. It’s not like living as a thief made you a stickler for the rules. “Few minutes.” She walks you back to the estate’s courtyard, and you both sit side by side, covered in warm robes, watching the snowfall. The large cherry tree in the middle of the courtyard was now almost entirely white. 

You didn’t expect any kind of camaraderie from Nobara. Your cases were wildly different–you were a ratty and uncivilized thief picked off the street to be Sukuna Ryomen’s wife, while Nobara was a uniformed…soldier. To be quite honest, you weren’t sure what to refer to her as. Her skills as a fighter were too sharp for her to be called a simple maid.

There was something more to her; you were sure of it. Her tone was too harsh to be a nobleman or aristocrat’s daughter–perhaps a merchant’s daughter. Her taste in clothes was great, and her sword’s sheath was of impeccable craftsmanship. Even an austere like you could tell. 

You wondered if someone had taught her all these things. She sure looked like she was well-loved as a child. So were you, but there was always a chronic emptiness in your heart. No parents to dote on you after work, only a sick and tired grandmother who tried to give you everything she could before taking her last breath. 

You even thought you could have a chance at having a family when you met your first love, but you soon gave up that hope after nearly being sold off as a wife to an old rich geezer. It had taken you ages to run away from him, to run away from a forceful marriage, only to land back in the same predicament but with a different person. 

“I do not understand him,” you speak out in the silence, echoes of your voice getting swallowed up by the snow. Not even your murmurs could leave the estate. “Nobody does. That is just how he is.” Nobara doesn’t look at you as she replies. “No, he could just take the marble from me–if I even have it. Why does he need to marry me for it?” 

“He believes you have it, but you are just unaware. He plans on coaxing it out of you sooner or later. And as long as the townsfolk know you are his wife, you cannot leave Seion.” 

So you were trapped. If not under Sukuna Ryomen’s thumb, then under the people’s watchful eyes. 

Unlike divine beings and spirits, human beings usually follow a daily routine. Sukuna Ryomen was surprised to learn that they meticulously followed everything–even down to how many bundles of firewood they would collect for the day. So, to make his life more comfortable, the former demon king also devised a routine. 

His day usually starts with a quick exercise regime to keep himself strong. Should the day come that the Deities have finally returned to their senses and want him back, he can easily fight them in his human form. However, the four demon companions who followed him to the mortal realm out of their loyalty to him would beg to differ. Uraume, Nobara, Yuuji, and Megumi were well aware that even the most swole of humans would be like a small piece of twig for the weakest of deities. Sukuna Ryomen just enjoyed imagining the ones who punished him in pain, including that no-good Divine Judge, Higuruma Hiromi. 

He would then eat a hearty meal and set off for business meetings. After his first hundred years on Earth, Sukuna learned that the only way to earn respect and power was to be rich. So he did exactly that: he spent decades earning money and bought out most of the shipment ports around his town. The fact that people forgot who he was every ten years immensely helped him. Divine punishment magic and all. 

And at last, he’d end his day by meditating beside his old statue. Getting to the abandoned shrine was a bothersome journey, but the peace he felt there was unlike any other. It was the closest he felt to his former life.

His new wife, however, was ruining everything. He couldn’t exercise with his normal concentration because he needed to always have his eyes on her. He did trust Nobara, but he needed self-assurance. He could easily take her with him for errands for the day, but he didn’t want the old bastards he traded with to land their leery gazes at her. She was still very jumpy, and something about another man, even a few feet in her presence, made him want to burn his hair. Other than his trusted bodyguards and servant, of course. 

“She just won’t sit still, and even refuses to eat. I’ve tried everything. You deal with her,” Nobara huffs as she smacks fresh new clothes on Sukuna’s unclothed chest, which was redundant because they had soaked in some of his sweat. He didn’t bother dressing up after his workout and charged to his quarters, noticing his wife had taken solace in the furthest corner from the door. 

“I am not going to eat you,” Sukuna sighed as he walked over to her, making her only pull her legs closer to her chest as she scrambled to throw what was closest to her–a lacquer box pillow. Sukuna, of course, easily dodged her attempt to attack him. He veiled his amusement at her discontentment. 

“Who’s to say you won’t? After all, you said you were a demon,” she tried her best to sound assertive, but her shivering body gave way to her veracity. Brave woman. She quickly dragged herself across the floor of the room, hoping to make it past Sukuna to get out, but he grabbed onto her ankles and pulled her to him. No grunt or sound of effort escaped his lips. She could only groan as he grabbed both her wrists and sat her up.

“I am here to give you clothes, woman. Calm down!” he reasoned as he sat on his haunches, giant hands still holding her wrists. His wife wriggled, trying to throw off his balance, but his exercise regime had made him sturdier than a raging bull. It wasn’t a shock to him that he was much bigger than her, but the sight of his arms being much larger and stronger than hers stirred something dire in him. Snow falling like dust before the avalanche. 

“I don’t need clothes. I am already wearing them. I’ll change when these get dirty. You rich folk sure do love draining every single resource you have–warm water for baths–”

“Which you clearly enjoyed. I could hear you groaning and moaning like old wood yesterday.” Maybe it had been a while since he had a woman in close quarters, but he barely held himself together when he heard her across the estate.

“That was because your little servant scrubbed me so hard that I bruised everywhere!” she yelled as she tried to wriggle some more, but his grip was taut. He pushed her down on the ground, her back hitting the wood with a thump.

“Your stubbornness will simply not do. I always considered myself a patient man, but now I am unsure. I will put you to work and exhaust you so much that you won’t have the strength to even think about escaping.” And with that, he dropped her clothes on the ground and lightly shoved her to the side. Only to remind her of his strength. 

And not because the sight of her being dragged around made him feel light-headed and lecherous.

After calling for Nobara to dress his wife up for the day, he called on Uraume to allot his new bride her wifely duties for the day. “She’s been on the street for most of her life so I doubt she knows how to cook. I also do not want her near fire, blades, arrows, or anything that can be a weapon. Have her organize my accounts by name. Nothing too extensive, but enough to make her want to lie down as soon as she’s done.” Uraume quickly nods before packing his things and handing them to him. 

He never enjoyed working anyway. It was a good thing he had her to help out now. 

“How long will you be meditating for, master?” Uraume asked as he walked Sukuna to the estate’s main entrance. Sukuna left with a swift response, “I expect to be back before sundown.”

The scenery around his statue was always beautiful. Stalky bamboo trees made everything look like a maze in this part of the valley. A stream nearby always had small foxes drinking from it, and the sun shone perfectly for their red fur to glitter.

Three hundred years ago, this place was bustling with people, buying talismans and offering fruits at the foot of the statue. Now, it is just a husk of what it used to be–weathering and moldy wood turning to dust as soon as one touches it. His statue had all smoothened out, his extra pair of eyes were invisible and his horrifyingly glorious mouth on his abdomen was gone too. There was not much difference between his human form and the statue.

Time stood still when Sukuna Ryomen was at his abandoned temple. He touched the smooth, worn gravel of his face and sighed. After a little more time, this statue would return to being taken care of. Offerings and people would return. So would his former glory. But where would his humanity go? Would he take it with him? Or would his sudden return to his former form make him forgo everything he had learned as a human being? 

Most importantly, how would his return affect his wife?

“I see you finally found her,” A familiar voice echoes in the forest. Sukuna already knows who he is before turning around. The Tengu spirit was here. 

“Why do you suddenly show yourself when I found my path of return, Geto Suguru?” Sukuna still didn’t turn. The spirit laughed, velvety rich voice raising hairs on the back of Sukuna Ryomen’s neck. He hated how humans were so expressive; it was no wonder they never had the upper hand with Deities and spirits.

Cool air blows all around Sukuna as the sound of wings flapping gets closer to him. If he turned around, he’d be face to face with someone he could’ve easily snapped in half if he were a demon again. “Because you haven’t.” Sukuna shivered as the tengu spirit whispered in his ear. 

“What are you talking about? I saw her eyes; she has the marble!” 

A dark claw digs into Sukuna's shoulder as he is ripped from his spot, and is turned around to face Suguru. He looked the same as he did hundreds of years ago–long black hair falling around his shoulders, dark pools of obsidian that never had a hint of good or evil behind them, and his signature smirk. Sukuna Ryomen hated tengus–they played around too much. Ambivalent creatures. They never lied, but they weren’t the friendliest company either. Only came around when they were bored. 

“Are you still angry that I told you about the souls passing by your domain?” 

“You said they were rejuvenating!” Sukuna exclaimed but caught himself when Suguru dug his nails into his shoulder. “Careful with your tone. Remember, you are a mere human now, and I could easily end your pathetic little life right this moment.” 

“Do it. I’ll only come back to life within a few mere minutes. I am cursed, remember?”

“Oh, I know, which is why I’ll keep killing you, making each death more painful than the last. It’ll keep you stalled long enough for your little bride to run off or die with time. Human lives are just so frail, you see.” Suguru stretched a wide, ugly smile, baring his pointed teeth at Sukuna. A loud message. 

Sukuna was sure the spirit could hear his pathetic human heart beating rapidly along with the sound of his blood rushing to his face. The veins in his neck bulged out as he tried to restrain his anger. The mere thought of someone taking his marble away from him angered him. 

“Tell me what you are here for and leave me immediately.” The sooner Suguru left, the sooner Sukuna could go and protect his wife. 

“You are a foolish demon.” 

“If you’ve come all the way to the mortal realm to tell me that, then I believe you are the foolish one,” Sukuna’s attitude angered Suguru as he shoved him, his taloned foot slammed on Sukuna’s chest as he cemented him to the ground. Sukuna groaned as he tried to grasp onto the spirit’s foot, but his hands went through them like he was trying to catch onto the air. 

Right, humans couldn’t touch spirits, but they could do whatever they wanted to them. No wonder folktales and legends were such a big part of human culture.

“You have become even more bold. I was only here to say that you asked the wrong question at the trial.”

“What are you waiting for then? Tell me,” Sukuna could barely wheeze out the words with the pressure on his chest. Taking pity at the pathetic man’s state, the tengu spirit lifts his leg off and clutches Sukuna’s collar, sitting him up against his will—a man at the mercy of myth. 

“Your pearl–she doesn’t have it. Don’t bother torturing it out of her.” Sukuna wasn’t surprised that the Suguru assumed he would’ve done that. But something about his newfound humanity irked him enough not to perform needless acts of violence. 

“What are you talking about?”

“The pearl is from the Divine Realm. A human cannot fathom its existence. It only exists as dust in her blood as in yours,”

The former demon’s pathetic human heart beat rapidly like thunder trapped in a cage. He let out an aching sigh as cold sweat dripped down the back of his neck. “You want me to kill her to get the pearl?” 

“No, all you need to do is mix your blood with hers, and you will have the complete marble.” 

“I cannot make her go through bloodletting–she’s too weak.” 

Suguru laughs loudly and the ground beneath Sukuna’s body trembles. Fresh snow is shaken off the bamboos.

“There are less…practical ways of mixing blood. One of them will surely give you your complete marble.” Still confused, Sukuna could only squint at Suguru’s all-black eyes. 

“A child, you daft demon. You must have a child with her to return to your original form.” 

—

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[girlthingamie]

“Hey sis, wanna go for a walk?”

You don’t think much of it. This family reunion is getting boring and stressful so I’m asking if you want to go smoke in the woods before having to come back for dinner, not the first time. It’s chilly out so you tell me you’re going go to grab a hoodie, but I throw one of mine at you before you can take a step away. “Come on, don’t waste time,” I say as I roll my eyes. You pull the hoodie over your head slowly, breathing in deep as the scent of me floats off the fabric. Watching you huff my clothes makes me a little hard just as it makes you a little wet when you look up from it to see me smirking at you. Neither of us think much of it.

As we walk down the street you instinctively grab my hand and stick close to my side. An old habit from when we were little. Mom used to make us hold hands when we went out on our own so that you wouldn’t wander off. It was always my job to keep an eye on you. To keep you safe. Neither of us think much of it.

I light up my cigarette as we enter the woods, but when you reach to grab my pack out of my hands I pull it away. You look at me puzzled but when the words “Earn it,” come out of my mouth your look turns to a mix of excitement and fear. “Let’s play chase for it.” Your eyes widen. “1… 2… 3…” You break out running after spending the first few seconds frozen. You’ve made it pretty far when you hear me shout out “30.” The excitement fills both of our minds. The thought of me catching you... neither of us can think of much else.

You're a little out of shape, it's been years since we played like this. We stopped when you started getting bullied by the other girls your age for still playing with your big sis. I'll admit, I was pissed off at that. I always liked the feeling of chasing you through the woods. No matter how old we got. Regardless, you start to tire out quicker than you used to. Even though you can't hear me yet, you start to get the feeling that I'm getting closer. A sort of sixth sense I trained into you from the early age we started playing these sort of games. You never thought much of it.

You stop to catch your breath, leaning against a tree. You couldn't have anticipated me sneaking up on you. You couldn't have anticipated me hiding on just the other side of that tree trunk. You feel me exhale smoke on the nape of your neck as I come up behind you, but I grab you by the waist before you have a chance to react. Before you know it, you're pinned against the tree. The stench of both of our sweat is strong. For a second, it's all either of us can think of.

I look at you dead in the eye with the end of my cig between my teeth. "Looks like you lost. No smoke for you." I blow the last puff of smoke into your face. "In fact that was so pathetic of a loss..." I glance down and with one hand lift up the sweater I gave you revealing a bit of tummy. I squat down to be up close to the exposed skin and put the cig out on you with my mouth. You squirm from the pain, but you know better than to try to writhe away, another lesson from childhood. I let the cigarette butt fall to the dirt and place a gentle kiss on the burn mark. My lips, your tummy, both so soft. For a second, it's all either of us can think about.

I look up at you and lock into what feels like an hour of eye contact as we both realize how fucking hot that was, our minds racing through different thoughts and emotions. "We should uh.. probably head back. Don't want to miss dinner, right?" I say through heavy breaths as I stand up without breaking eye contact. I turn around and take a step but you grab my arm and pull me right up against you, sandwiching yourself between me and the tree. You kiss me. Eagerly. Desperately. You need it. I need it. I kiss you back. I run a hand under the sweater, my sweater, that stands between me and your soft skin. You moan a little into my mouth as you feel your big sister grope your chest. We stay out there for hours. We don't make it back for dinner, but neither of us think much of it.