#you're putting me through palpitations here

[yandere-daydreams]

embarrassed but honestly also slightly proud to admit that i’m a real human adult who is still semi-active on quotev

idk man i’ve just kept the tab open for years and at this point part of my routine is going in to check on the State of Things

i stil have the info for my old middle school quotev account, and i want to be the kind of person who can just go on there and vibe so so badly, but last time i tried, the first fic i got invested in was clearly written by a thirteen year old who did not do their research and i just. i had to check out as soon as someone got detention. in college. it was for porn reasons but. i couldn't.

[thebibliosphere]

Whenever I talk about the medical neglect and ableism I've encountered as a victim of the healthcare system, there's always some cockwaffle who feels entitled to come into my inbox and make the argument of "not all doctors" while talking about how "people like them" (because it's always someone in a field of medicine who does this) are doing their best and it's really hard because so many people fake being ill to get on welfare (Yikes), but like, yeah, obviously #not all doctors, because if all doctors were negligent, bullying scum bags, I'd be dead.

But here's the thing: while I truly believe that the majority of doctors are doing their best in a system stacked against them and their patients, their presence does not negate the mass harm caused by the bad ones. And there are far more bad ones than you realize.

Fuck, John Oliver literally did a segment on this last week:

Yes, the truly bad, malicious doctors are in the minority. Most are just horrifically burned out and fighting a losing battle against a system, killing both them and their patients through a lack of funding and resources and profound overwork.

But the malicious ones do exist, and they will go out of their way to harm patients who don't kowtow to them.

I almost lost my life because when I was in my early twenties, I told a doctor I didn't think she was listening to me, and I disagreed with her assessment of my mental health (she was not a mental health doctor, and I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain). She retaliated by putting "non-compliant" in my file.

There was also a fun little "doesn't show respect" note too that lives rent-free in my head because I know I wasn't rude. I was polite. I just didn't agree with her, and my refusal to accept her off-handed comment that "you probably have bipolar or BPD" (again, I was there for heart palpitations and chronic pain) meant I was "refusing care."

I wasn't. I just refused to be slapped with a mood/personality disorder when I was there because I kept fucking fainting when I stood up.

(Spoiler alert: it was dysautonomia)

That "non-compliant" marker followed me around for years. It followed me across an ocean and effectively ensured that any doctor I saw was going to treat me like absolute dogshit because no one wants to help Difficult Patients. It wasn't until I was so undeniably ill, literally on the brink of death, that anyone helped me.

I'm alive because of a good doctor. And all the good ones that came after him because of him.

So, I know they exist. You don't have to tell me that.

But I really fucking need you to acknowledge the bad ones and that you're part of a system with a long, long history of abusing minorities and vulnerable people. I need you to acknowledge that because it's the only way we're going to survive this godforsaken nightmare and make things better.

So yeah, #notalldoctors, but if you feel the need to say that because someone talking about being literally left to die by the medical system hurts your feelings, I'm going to have to ask you to take a step back and ask yourself if you're going into medicine for the right reasons.

Namely: do you want to help people, even the "difficult" ones?

Even the ones who might disagree with you?

Even if they're on welfare?

Even if they'll never get "better" in a way that means "cured"?

Just a thought. But hey, what do I know. I'm just someone who experienced hemolytic anemia because doctors kept telling me I was anxious and needed to exercise more 🤷‍♀️.

[tonkatsubowl]

truth to be told, it takes a lot for aventurine to fully trust someone, let alone loving them.

the man had already lost so much, including his own sense of self. to be stabbed in his back, to be betrayed, to be mocked and used and made fun of—he was used to it. it would take aventurine a while for him to feel comfortable being vulnerable with someone, considering he didn't trust anyone in particular.

though the man wore a gorgeous smile, wandering through the streets of penacony, it wasn't a genuine smile, but a mask he put up. expensive clothing, his beautiful countenance and the abundance of money he liked to toss around... it was just a mask he put up. it was also for the sake of his own reputation, too. especially when you were directly under diamond herself.

the main suspect of his suffering. and the cause of his success. a double edged sword that he walked upon. his own life was theirs. a mere toy, a mere chess piece to gamble with.

...but when he met you, he was confused. afraid, even. but he put up a fake smile, some flirtatious words here and there, but the man did not trust you, nor did he believe you would be willing to stay by his side for an eternity for aeons know what.

when he met you, you were kind, understanding. you were a little stubborn, too, and humorous. you never failed to have aventurine laugh at your cute little jokes, and you never failed to protect him, whether it was against the ipc's mocking him in his name, or against nightmare infested monsters that dared to consume his flesh within a dream.

he was terrified of you.

he didn't know what you were doing to him.

every time he saw you, he felt... weak. vulnerable around you. and he hated it. he loathed it. he hated everything about how you were making him feel, as though you were a curse that came to haunt him due to the sins of his past.

every time he saw you, his heart began to palpitate, his chest aching. and it got worse whenever he saw you so happy with someone else. but... maybe you were better off with someone? everyone kept leaving him, after all, whether it was death or it was simply due to some gambling... game-thing. a business transaction, even.

but you stayed.

you stayed throughout the hardships he faced.

why?

just why?

why, of all people, did you want to stay with him? a once upon a time slave, now a business man specializing in manipulation, gambling (an addiction, to put it), and flirtatious words to soothe the mind so he could win his way.

even through everything, you were still here. that was when he decided to seek out a certain doctor.

he sat across from him, forcing a smile across his lips, but the doctor could see it. the mask that aventurine donned himself with.

"you're in love."

aventurine's eyes looked up to the other, "you must be misreading your books like usual."

"you came here... to me, for your thoughts."

aventurine chuckled to himself, nervously, even.

"love? i haven't heard that word in ages."

"it is a complicated thing. especially with how you can be, gambler. a man who is unpredictable, keen to the eye, and... well, unfamiliar with the positive things."

aventurine cleared his throat, toying with the golden coin in his hand. he purses his lips, his mask wearing off for a moment.

"...now, dr. ratio, i am not doubting your knowledge and intelligence, don't get me wrong. i just don't believe that it truly is such a strange thing called... love."

the genius sighed, "you complained to me the other day that you couldn't stand seeing (y/n) talking to others, smiling and laughing. i recall that i was not assigned to be your therapist, here. the rest should be obvious, but it appears you're too stubborn to catch on... or rather, you're unfamiliar with this feeling. this term. love."

bullseye. it was as though ratio had called him out completely. for once, the gambler was silent. here, he would try to make little comments here and there, some jokes there and wherever but... the man was actually silent.

"... what do you suggest i do, then?"

dr ratio leans in, resting both elbows on his knees, eyes fixated on the gambler's own pristine eyes.

"if you are comfortable with it, move at your own pace if you wish to pursue. this is ultimately your choice. you can pursue these feelings, or you may leave it. there is no right or wrong answer, here. this all depends on you and what you wish to do. love is about being vulnerable with each other. accepting each other at their lowest. being for one another. your lover is considered to be your number one companion, truthfully."

aventurine was quiet.

"what is your gambler's intuition?"

a sigh left aventurine's lips. he stood, flipping the coin in his hand, before showing the result of heads or tails.

"...i suppose i'll make a bet with myself. one that doesn't cost money or the finest of gold and jewelry."

the genius watched as the other male got up from his seat, retrieving his sunglasses from his expensive outfit, before placing them on. "i'll make a gamble, to be specific, about this."

"then i wish you the best of luck, aventurine."

months had past, and the two of you were already in a relationship. it had been months, but the man didn't dare to tell you, 'i love you' just yet. as a matter of fact, those words were terrifying for him. what if he lost you after he said that? what if something were to happen to you? he was terrified of saying it, as he wasn't ready yet.

dr. ratio was right—he was paranoid to the bone but hid it. yet, aventurine played a few cards and decided to gamble this relationship with you, to see if it could work out. and so far, everything was well.

you were understanding, kind, beautiful, patient... the perfect partner someone could ask for.

but it also felt undeserving.

did... he deserve this love? did he truly deserve to experience the harmony that his heart fluttered to? he began to doubt. then he spiraled into a panic.

he began to sleep restlessly at night, rendering himself vulnerable to nightmares and the instability of his mind.

... but you were there, throughout all of it.

his eyes shot open, the familiar warmth of your hand gently cupped at his left cheek. he had fallen asleep on the couch, reading a long text presented to him by his supervisor, which was mainly just work and business related things. he didn't realize he had fallen asleep, and at first was confused when he woke up.

his phone was placed securely on the table, and there was a blanket draped over him. the air conditioning was turned on for his comfort, and before him was a tray full of biscuits, tea... for him to savor in once he woke from his nightmare.

"are you... alright?" you asked. "you were having a bad dream."

his eyes traveled to your voice, finding your concerned expression, his palpitating heart now steadying at an easy rate. he began to breathe, his eyes softening.

you were here, at his most vulnerable state, concerned for his well-being. he was silent, but he immediately reeled you in for a gentle hug. he was reluctant, but he wanted to feel the rest of your warmth. your head was buried into his chest, and you could hear his heart slow down. he closed his eyes, calming down from his inner demons.

"...you're okay." you murmur, brushing the top of his hair with your hands. "i'm here for you."

you didn't know much about him at all, truth to be told. the man wasn't really comfortable sharing his past with you, yet. he was a locked chest, and in order to find the key to his past, you had to be patient. time was key, but whatever demons he was facing at night... he knew you would be there.

he had doubts, at first, and always believed that he'd always be alone.

but... you were a different story.

"...thank you," he whispers onto your ear, cradling you close to his chest, "for being here."

your gaze softens, and you were silent for a moment. this was the first time you've seen aventurine like this. so vulnerable, so... reliant on you. but you were okay. because everyone has their own weakness. not everyone was perfect, and you understood that.

"... don't thank me." you say, closing your eyes, taking in his scent as the two of you nuzzled up against each other on the couch, "please don't. it's my job—my duty, as your other half, to be here for you."

dr. ratio's words echoed into his brain, reminding him of what love truly is. being there for one another, no matter what.

"you haven't been here?"

months past, and aventurine is presenting a beautiful, scenic view of penacony for you. the night sky was phenomenal, and the beautiful sounds of crickets and late night critters were no more than music to your ears. you seat yourself at the bench, whilst the gambler was walking around, admiring the view... taking pictures, even.

"i haven't, but now i am." you say, flashing a smile.

aventurine took some time off today to take you out on a date. the man had more than enough sick and vacation leave to do this for you, and it's the first time where he actually used it.

he sits next to you, admiring the night sky, and the sight of you above all else.

"it's a beautiful sight. i come here when i want to... relax."

your gaze softens, and your hand comes towards his own. digits intertwine, and you murmur something, audible for your lover's ears.

"thank you for taking me here. to your safe place."

aventurine looks over to you, puzzled.

"... safe place, huh? didn't expect to... call it that. but i guess that's what you can say for this spot. i can feel at peace here." he nods slowly, looking back to the scenic view.

"... it's a spot where you can feel vulnerable and be okay with it," you say, instantly catching his attention, "and i want to thank you for trusting me to bringing me here. i really, really do appreciate it."

ratio's words echo through his mind once more, the pad of his thumb suddenly reaching over, gently lifting your chin. he leans in, granting you a subtle kiss, in which you've returned.

"... may... i be vulnerable, once again?"

he lowered his guard, his voice coming to a whisper.

"you... can always be vulnerable around me. i want to be your safe person." you respond, in a whisper.

"..." he was silent. "i love you."

it was the first time, too, that he said such a thing to you. such strong words that let your heart skip a few beats. your face comes to a faint, vermillion flush, but you were happy nonetheless. you smile, cupping each side of his face.

"i love you too."

[forsworned]

That Keegan post you made had me clutching my PEARLS! Your use of words was so masterfully done! I really loved the new vocab I learned while reading your work.

Your depiction of the relationship was also so so nice. Very loving and attentive and just so sweet. I could tell they loved one another and had already established boundaries that they knew they shouldn’t cross. The ending was lovely as well, a great way to tie things up.

Thank you for writing it! I’m excited to see what else your lovely brain comes up with!

-🧢

Whispers in the Woods: A Stranger's Shelter ft. OfftheGridCowboy!Keegan Russ

Sypnosis: When Keegan finds you petrified, running for your life from creatures unknown to you in the Haunted Appalachia trails after sundown, he takes you in for the night. Things get a bit crazy...

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Content, Violence, Petnames (?), Blood, Supernatural Horror (?), Eventual Smut, Barely Proofread, Reader is 28 and Keegan is 30, Reader is also AFAB

Word Count: 7.5k (enjoy keegan lovers ;)

Author's note: Blue cap anon thank you so much for inspiring me to write for Keegan. Honestly, I really love how this fic turned out and I hope you do too. I am so sorry I took so long to reply to you but you seriously warmed my heart so sosososo much when I read your message. I did not mean to put you on the back burner for this long/ Just know I have put so much effort into this to provide you a solid work so I hope that is a good enough excuse to have such a delayed response. Also so glad that you learned some new words LOL that really tickles me tbh, but I want to work more with the relationship that reader builds with Keegan in general or with any character x reader I write. So please enjoy this :)

edit: i think it's lowkey not living up to my expectations but ummm fuck it we ball

Sparks fly as the firewood in the pit crackles, casting an orange ember over you and the stranger sitting in front of you. His eyes, reminiscent of the cool, blueness of winter are lingering on you, and his heavy, leather jacket drapes over your shoulders to shield you from the chilliness of the early April evening. With his black cowboy hat slightly tilted upward, you note the black bandana covering most of his face, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

"You really shouldn't be out here." His voice edges a precarious tone, though you cannot determine if it's toward you or whatever lurks in the abysmal woods. Maybe it was both. Your fingers curl around the distressed tanned hide, fiddling with the stitching of the material. A shudder careens through the columns of your spine, goosebumps trail over your skin, and the fuzz across your neck rises briefly.

"Don't look. Don't even acknowledge it." He instructs, steadying his gaze on you as he tinkers with the butterfly knife in his gloved hand. "W-what?" You gasp out, eyes reaming as your quivering vision sets on the embers of the pyre. A sinister presence harks over your convulsing body, heart palpitating out of your tightening sternum. But as soon as it arrives it departs and you're left heaving for the oxygen that was stripped from your lungs.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, what are you doin' walkin' around aimlessly in these mountains?" He repeatedly latches and unlatches the metal object in his hands, his gaze fixates on you. Truthfully, you were lost. When the engine of the old Dodge that you inherited from your grandfather abruptly cut out as you passed through a dead zone, it was all hauling ass from there on out. Classic damsel in distress situation.

Your father and he had both warned you about the Appalachian mountains. How apex predators inhabited the woods, preying on the innocent, ripping flesh apart on sight, or disappearing into the ghastly woods to never return. But, of course, you wrote it off as fearmongering. Never had you experienced the soul-crushing, harrowing existence of unidentified, cryptids lurking within the lacunas of the evergreens.

"My truck it—" You start to say, but the sound of him exhaling loudly cuts you off and you glance up at him with misery strewn across your features. Doe-eyes glimmering from the wetness that was welling in your oculars as your lips tremble. He outstretches his arm to the lantern on the perched log, "I've heard enough."

He begins to get up, extinguishing the flame, smothering it with what seemed to be a bag of salt and you felt fear creeping back into your system.

"Come on." As the pyre's embers fade, the lantern's switch emits a squeak, coaxing the oil flame to life, while the blood-curdling shrieks send shivers down your spine, ringing in your ears. And as if on cue, you cling to his side and he lets out a soft huff, feeling your arm coil around his.

The inferno acts as a bulwark from whatever is skulking around the both of you in the obscurity of the night as you move through the forest. You catch glimpses of shadows trekking about, seemingly running away from you now. A stark contrast from the previous frantic sprint through the woods in your petite, white frilly prairie dress that was now tattered at the edges and puffy sleeves. Now, you were safe. At least you certainly hope so.

A tiny light enters your line of sight in the distance, and you can only assume that that is his home. But you were still heeding the noises and images being molded in front of human eyes. It was as if the veil was lifted here, a supernatural existence in the vast mountains and woods of the Appalachia. You don't know whether to be terrified or fascinated, but you keep quiet as he silently leads you down the desire path to his home that is etching itself a little more into the horizon.

Approaching the home, you begin to notice the clandestine features of the house. A zephyr sweeps past you and the distinct smell of lavender and sage gently brims into your senses. You visibly shudder as the steps creak under your weight, your arm remains tucked into his own as he fishes out his keys and unlocks the door. Like a gentleman, he gestures to allow you in first and he follows closely behind, shutting it behind him.

"Shoes off at the door." He directs, treading past you as he tosses another piece of firewood into the lit fireplace.

What the fuck?

Is he just not going to acknowledge the paranormal manifestation that incurred upon them just now? The shadows of unearthly skinwalkers who infest the woods, who are prowling out there now as they barricade themselves from the outside? What is stopping them from forcefully intruding into his home?

You finally catch your breath for a moment, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest before you speak. "Are we not going to talk about what we just saw?"

"Nope." He simply replies, from another room and you blink back in surprise. Then it sinks in.

Of course, how could you forget? How can you forget the rules of the Appalachia, that were engrained into you as a child?

If you see something strange in the wilderness, no, you didn't.

If you hear something call your name, no, you didn't.

If you hear screaming in the Appalachian mountains, especially a woman's scream, no, you didn't. 

If you feel something stalking you, do not run.

Never, ever, whistle at night. 

Never go into the woods at night.

Never leave your windows open at night, even in the summer and honestly, the list dragged on and on and on.

Most of it falls on deaf ears never believing in the legends, and yet, here you are shaken up by things you never thought existed in a stranger's home who found it in his heart to shelter you until what you suppose would be dawn.

A wavering breath escapes you as you take a long gander at the well-maintained colonial home. The timeless and heirloom quality of the home becomes evident upon analyzing the vast array of paintings and framed photographs adorning the walls, each depicting individuals with strikingly similar features—dark brows, thick lashes, and mesmerizing steely blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. You can't quite make out the framed artwork through your muzzy vision, but it's eerie the way you can't quite pinpoint why the face was so recognizable to you.

Exposed wooden ceiling beams motion your eyes to the inherited items and the mounted deer skull above the hearth. The warmth emanating from it felt different, soothing, lulling your quivery limbs. You oblige and kick off your boots, padding behind him as he draws out his gun from his holster and places it on the mahogany table. He removes his cowboy hat, hanging it on the horseshoe hat rack adjacent to the fireplace revealing his tousled short black locks. As he begins to unmask himself, a small gasp leaves your lips, fixating on his newly exposed features. And he was goddamn handsome and unusually reminiscent of someone from your childhood embarked into the backlogs of your memory, but of course, you brush it off.

And although he hears it, he does not acknowledge it as one hand grips the wooden chair and the other runs over his dark stubble. He's pensive. The last thing he needed was some heretic woman living under his roof for Lord knows how long. At this point, he decides that you are his responsibility and he cannot shirk from that for that would be unbecoming of a man like himself and he was raised better than that.

He glances up at the painting of his father above the hearth and you take note of the reflective state. His daddy was the embodiment of a Cowboy. Gentlemanly, charming, nifty, and always genial, providing the best hospitality a person could provide. No way, he'd accept Keegan kicking you to the curb, leaving you out for those creatures to rip you apart. Plus, his father would simply rise from his grave and kick his ass.

"You hungry?" He pays no mind to your lingering, bewitched eyes as he moves to the kitchen and you like a lost puppy trailing behind him. "Got some leftover potato leek soup."

And as if on cue, your stomach growls and he glances at your hand over your tummy. You flush from the embarrassment of your stomach being that raucous. He cocks a brow at you and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. Probably both. "Go sit." He points his chin to the table by the fireplace and you pad back to the living room, the tempering sensation of the flames causes you to become drowsy. You loll your head to analyze his stature. His figure towers over all of the antique appliances in the kitchen, muscles flexing as he prepares to reheat the soup on the stove. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his taut, tanned forearms to open the cabinet and pull out the loaf of handmade sourdough, slicing it evenly and efficiently before tossing it in the toaster.

His form becomes a bit hazy as you lay your head against the top rail of the chair, mesmerized by the allure of his broadened shoulders, and soft pink lips that all by hide the peeking tongue indicating his concentration in preparing you a homecooked meal. Keegan never has guests over, in fact, no one is ever daft enough to come running around this way anyways because locals know better and tourists are too scared shitless to even enter this part of the Appalachia. He likes it like that, away from everything and everyone, being able to maintain his family's ranch that was inherited by him at the ripening age of 18.

His mother moved out to the suburbs because the death of his father was far too devasting on her already weary soul to continue living her days out on the farm. But Keegan doesn't mind it. He handles the livestock with ease, providing care to the birthing cattle, and maintaining the operations of the facilities as a whole to keep his honest living thriving. It's all in a good day's work for him. So caring after you shouldn't be too much of a hassle right?

You're suddenly awoken to the soft clatter of the bowl being set on the wooden table, the savory aroma of potato leek soup, and freshly toasted sourdough bread. He sets a glass of water beside you before he pulls his seat adjacent to you with his food.

"Eat." He orders, waiting for you to take a spoonful of thick soup. You hesitantly lift the spoon before glancing up at him. He blinks back at you, realizing the weight of his indiscretion, and whisks the soup with his spoon before noshing on it as if to tell you that is not poisoned nor drugged. Your other hand takes the bread in between your fingers and he mirrors your actions, claiming a bite from his own and you visibly relax.

The soup is scalding to the touch, but you welcome the sensation when you get a taste of the heavenly whipped soup. Not a single lump, just the smoothest, most savory supping of such a simple hearty soup instantly heartening your disconcerting body right down to your unsteady hand.

"I'll fix your truck as soon as dawn breaks." He flashes a glance before breaking his bread and scooping it into his soup. "Make yourself comfortable in the guest bedroom." He gestures with his hand to the upstairs.

"Oh, I couldn't—" You begin to say, but he will have none of it.

"You're not going out there until the sun's out." He replies simply, as he lifts his glass of water and sips from it. You observe the way his Adam's apple oscillates under his stubbly throat and you swallow thickly when you realize he's gazing at you keenly.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks and your eyes are now following the pattern of the wood grain. "That's…very kind of you."

"'s just the human thing to do." And there is an emphasis on the word 'human'.

You begin to play with your soup, scooping it up and letting it fall back into the bowl. "Right." Your voice is soft as you try to block out the memory just moments ago.

He narrows his eyes as if to study you. "What's your name?"

You glance up at him, and you're almost a bit hesitant to tell him. You almost want to lie, but you decide otherwise. "[Name], and yours?"

"Keegan."

"Keegan what?" You press. He raises a brow at you as he chews on his bread.

"Russ."

Russ. An esteemed surname that was echoed throughout your household during your adolescence. Presley Russ was a handsome and genial man who appeared at your father's porch steps every so often, tipping his hat at you with that charming smile and those glacial hues that made your heart jump. He'd invite your daddy out for nights at the rodeo or sipping on Highland Gaelic Ales on the porch from the afternoon til midnight, biding his time between Maryland and North Carolina.

You never quite caught glimpses of his son when you were living out on the ranch before you moved out for college, but you did remember a time when you ventured out past sunset in the abandoned village in the Black Hills you knew better than to be in when your daddy had to travel to Wheaton for the grand opening of his old buddy, Presley's restaurant accompanied by his reclusive son who you never remembered the name of. But for God's sake, who was stupid enough to go treading alone around the same location as the filming of the Blair Witch Project?

But you were a skeptic at best until you heard the unrelenting repetition of your name being called which led you astray, causing you to stumble over your own feet and ultimately collide with a rock that rendered you unconscious. Soon enough, you felt yourself being carried back to your home in the arms of the Russ boy with the hardened steely gaze that intently stared down at the knot forming on your forehead. You had never shut your eyes so quickly and the sound of his soft chuckle, caused you to be even more embarrassed as you were being handed off to your worried parents who were more than relieved and thankful to have retrieved you.

Of course, you had to act like you were unconscious. It was already humiliating enough that you were old enough to know better, but being ferried by a cute boy like you were some helpless damsel in distress was just mortifying.

But that was long forgotten by you in hazy summer days during your teen years before you went off to college and moved out into the city. In reality, you had written it off as a dream, a hallucination concocted by that vivid and graphic imagination of yours. That was always the case with you and the Appalachia. Always the non-believer.

But part of you was hoping that maybe he didn't recognize you after all this time, and yet the way he is staring you down is beginning to feel like otherwise.

"Blair." He suddenly says matter-of-factly as he taps his finger at the table and nods again. "Blair." A small toothy grin creeps on his lips before he chuckles.

Your eyes reaming as your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Black Hills, you're the daughter of the farmer right up in Garrett County."

You feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks. He knew. "I—How do you remember that?"

"Knew you looked familiar." He dives back into his steaming soup. "Was tryin' to figure out where I'd seen that necklace of yours." He juts his chin, pointing to the family heirloom that kisses your clavicle. It had been passed down for generations to the women in your family as a symbol of health, wisdom and longetivity. You feel for the 20k gold pendant with lilac and sage engraved into the soft metal.

He looks as if he's stifling another snicker. "Think you pissed yourself a little when I found you unconscious."

Now that gets you real flared up. The abrupt change in mood was beginning to wrack your nerves. You sigh knowing that at the very least you were in good hands. Familiarity begins to set in as he breaks the ice, creating a more comfortable atmosphere between you two.

"I did not!" You puff your cheeks out at him and he's tickled pink by your endearing, agitated reactions.

His gleeful grin only grows to his eyes. "Now, who willing goes into the woods by themselves when they know damn well what kind of activity breeds over there, hm? Gotta death wish if you ask me, kid."

You open your mouth to say something, but it clamps shut. You don't know whether to be abashed by the way his face lights up like the stars in the heavens above, or by the fact that he remembers that you pissed yourself a little through your favorite pair of khaki parachute shorts in a known marked area where people have gone missing. The stark realization of it being a tangible memory was mussing at your trepidation towards him. But he's teasing you now and it stirs a strange kind of desire in your lower belly as you uncomfortably shift in your creaky wooden seat.

Pushing your bowl away, you avoid responding by guzzling down your water and then calmly placing it back down.

"I'd like to get ready for bed now, if you don't mind."

He jovially raises his eyebrows as he munches on the last of his bread. The smirk still curled up on the corners of his pinkened lips.

He wipes the crumbs off his hands and thumbs either side of his mouth before he gets up, gesturing to you. " 'Course not."

You stand up and politely push your chair in as you track behind him up the croaking staircase. Your body is practically heaving with every step and by the top of it, you're feeling a bit winded. Keegan decides to keep his comments to himself as he ushers you down the grandiose hallway. The walls are painted ivory, and wall sconces are tapered candles on held-up aged tin nailed into the parapet. Hardwood floors are well kept, but the small divots in between the grain quickly reveal the age.

He jingles the knob to what you suppose is the guest bedroom, but it seems to be locked. His fingers fish into his pocket and you watch as he phalanges through the set and then finally picks out the antiquated rusty skeleton key. It's honestly a bit jarring that it requires a key to fasten the door, but at this point, if you're being kept away from the monsters lurking outside you'd be happy to be his little prisoner for now.

He pushes the door and it moans open, though much to your surprise it's polished and orderly. In the middle of the room is a wooden four-poster queen-sized bed, with a princess-like sheer white canopy that surreptitiously envelops the bed. The furniture is a bit more romantic with detailed carved patterns on the bookshelves that line up against the wall to the vanity that sat adjacent to the bed. The carmine curtains that drape over the large window, easily maneuver you to the balcony, and the soft calling of your name beckons you to open it…

A sturdy hand clasps over your shoulder and you jolt as you turn to him. He's shaking his head as he towers over you and you look so goddamn feeble with those damn bambi eyes of yours shimmering in the tiny sliver of moonlight that peeks out from the window. He tears his gaze away to tread over to the window, squeezing it shut with the velcro he sewed into the fabric and reinforces the window shut.

A sharp exhale leaves his nostrils and his eyes are on you again. "I totally can see why you ended up the way you did." He glimpses over your dirtied and frayed dress, skinned, bloodstained knees, and contusions running up and down your legs. God, he makes it so easy to feel self-conscious.

He licks his lips as he hovers his hand over the knob to his right, and signals you over. You begrudgingly stride over and you're just as impressed at the bathroom. From the massive mirror above the traditional wooden undermount double sink vanity to the wine-red clawfoot freestanding bathtub. Little golden trinkets pinstripe the rosy walls with the soft warm lighting of the hanging flowery ceiling light fixtures. You squint your eyes when he adjusts the radiance to a white glow with the dimmer light switch before he opens the drawers one by one.

"Towels, robes, spare clothes, toiletries. Gimme a shout if you need anything else."

You open your mouth to say something and his eyes playfully narrow at you. "—within reason, missy."

Your bottom lip reflexively juts out. You hate to admit it, but you were quite the spoiled child. Never receiving more than a gentle chide from your parents and always silver-spooned to the nines by your grandparents. The truck was an exception. More of a parting gift from your grandfather that was left to you for the sole purpose of memorabilia scored into every inch of the tarnished vehicle. You hope that Keegan is capable of fixing it since most parts were made by discontinued distributors and they were definitely not easy to come by as they were expensive.

"Christ, spoiled rotten, weren't ya?" He ribs, nudging you a bit and you frown at him.

"Was not." You childlessly retort, but the small smile on your face betrays your feeble attempt at contempt.

Fuck, she is so cute. Keegan thinks as he assimilates your hilly yet winsome appearance. Just as cute as he remembers when he was seventeen, ignorant of the malignancy that poisoned his father's lungs.

"Not as much as your daddy spoiled you." You shoot back and cover your mouth with your hands as his brows lift in half surprise and half revelry.

"Blair's got jokes now, huh?" The elicitive nickname indicative of your former years sends another rushing warmth to your face and you begin to shoo him out.

"I'd really like to be clean now, thank you." You cast a scowl his way and he's putting his hands up in surrender as he backs out of the bathroom followed by the bedroom.

"I take it that the lady needs her privacy now." He leans against the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his denim jean pockets that are dusty and darkened with wood ash and the smell of the campfire lingers on his skin.

"And her beauty sleep." You add on, folding your arms. His jacket is still resting over your shoulders and he chuckles at your Hello Kitty print socks. The way your hair was mussed up in the soft glow of the lantern lamp on the night table was starting to arouse him a bit.

Fuckkkkkk, you were so adorable. It might have taken every atom in his body not to bend you over the mattress and spank you for being such a dotty woman before pressing his cock past your velvety folds as he makes you apologize in the form of incoherent, dirty little whimpers.

But the thought is quickly dismissed as it's formed in the sullied cogitations of his mind.

"Good night, [name]." He murmurs in his husky voice yet there is a hint of mischief in his tone that sends a frisson up your spinal column.

"Good night, Keegan." You susurrate, as you slowly shut the door and his expression remains the same as your view of him narrows until it disappears behind the threshold.

"Christ." You mutter to yourself as you begin to get ready for bed, as you feel the rush of collywobbles in your stomach start to well up a craving for the cowboy. The time on your cracked phone screen reads 2:03 AM and a wave of exhaustion crashes over you at the realization. Had you really been out there for seven hours?

The warm water soothes your aching bones and forming scabs scattered across your body as you gently exfoliate your skin. Thankfully, Keegan had enough sense to drop off a first aid kit by your door before you slipped into the bath. You weren't looking forward to the sting of the antiseptic, but you were more than grateful to be alive and have all your limbs attached. As you close your eyes and let the sudsy bath take away your worries, a coaxing voice is entrancing you. At first, it begins as a hushed lull intermingled with what sounds like your name and a bit of white noise that makes your brain all fuzzy and warm, but it becomes audible. Forming coherent luring words that resemble Keegan's deep, raspy voice.

Drown, drown, drown.

And you promptly find yourself submerging into the tub and the stillness of the water is subduing, but something is instigating you to open your eyes. You push away the thought, taking in the tranquility, settling into the comforting sensation of weightlessness. And yet, the feeling is not leaving you. You internally sigh as you move your body to the surface, but you remain dormant. Your eyes shoot open and your blood runs cold.

Above is one of the most fear-inducing creatures that you have ever laid your eyes upon holding you down on either side of your shoulders with slender claws digging into your flesh. It resembles a caribou skull with elongated antlers but its eyes were a violent vermillion that penetrates your soul. Its body was dark, rickety, and harrowing. Bones astute against the matted onyx fur and its tongue hanging out of his jaw like it was ready to devour you. Panic surges through your veins as you thrash about but it drives its talons further into your skin and you shriek out in pain. Water enters your lungs, your heart is stammering at cardiac arrest speed and you're choking out for dear life. This is it. This is how you die and the worst part about it is, you couldn't even call out for hope from the man who saved you just moments ago.

But just as you're accepting your fate, the muffled sound of a gunshot pierces through the air and within seconds the skinwalker is incapacitated and then dead. Soon enough, you're being hoisted out by Keegan's strong hands, as you cling onto him naked, wet, and heaving for oxygen.

Water expels out from your esophagus and you're trembling even harder than you were before when he found you, grasping to him and he's immediately talking you down.

"It's alright, you're okay. You're okay." He soothes, one hand tenderly caressing your soddened hair and the other is gripping your body tight as he pulls you out of the tub. He wastes no time unplugging the drain and wrapping you in a large towel to cover your naked body. In all seriousness, Keegan didn't even take a second to gander at your naked form when he was gathering you out of the tub and he makes that clear that his sole objective was to eliminate the wendigo that trespassed into your sanctuary.

He could've sworn that he had locked up every single opening in the house as he does every single night. It was like clockwork to him ever since his father had shown him the ropes to the place.

"…Kee-keegan." You splutter out as you continue to clutch onto him and your body is saturating him with water. He doesn't care though, that was the least of his worries. Your eyes are reaming and glossy as you dare to peek down at the creature that was seconds away from letting you meet your maker, but there's nothing but ash on the tiled floor.

"It was—" You begin, peering up at his harking steely eyes and his jaw tightens.

"It's gone."

"I don't understand." You shake your head, trying to make sense of what just happened, but the soft clatter of the rifle hitting the bathroom counter delineates your scattered mind. "Oh. But—"

"Get dressed." He softly prompts and you shakily let go of his t-shirt and he hands you an eggshell-colored peignoir as he averts his gaze. He's cognizant of the post-distress and panic you're in, so makes no indication of reallocating himself away from you as you slip on the fabric nor does he provide an explanation for what just occurred.

And to be honest, you didn't want to know. There was nothing more disturbing than the encounter with death in the form of a mutated caribou that leaves you shaken up. Everything just seemed too difficult to wrap your little head around, so let him take care of you.

A fresh towel is on your head, soaking up the wetness tangled into your hair and you relax at his balmy touch.

"Thank you." You mutter as your eyes are cast downward, eyeing the imbued, darkened spots on his nightshirt.

He delicately hooks his index finger and thumb between your chin and lifts it upward as he dabs at your features with the towel. And then it lingers. His intense yet pensive gaze, his stout calloused thumb that is now brushing against your jaw shortly followed by your quivering bottom lip. His jaw ticks.

"I'll sleep in here tonight."

Your heart jumps rampantly against your chest. "What?"

"You almost died if it weren't for me."

"Yes, but it's not—!" You fall short of words yet again and you're tearing your gaze away from him. As dire as the situation was (and it was), Keegan cannot help himself from being just the tiniest bit entertained by your endearing little mannerisms.

"I'm not gonna sleep next to you in bed." He deadpans. Normally, he would let you stumble over your words, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones and even as a noceur himself he was in desperate need of some z's. "The armchair over there quite comfy."

You follow his eyes to the brown leather recliner that was beside the bed and then back to him.

"I'm tired, Keegan." You profess, leaning your head against his chest and he's absentmindedly rubbing circles into the small of your back.

"I know."

Typically, you wouldn't be this comfortable with a stranger but given the unusual circumstances that were currently trying to slaughter your ass, you found yourself seeking solace in him.

"Let's get you into bed."

And soon he's leading you back to the bedroom, his hand is still on the small of your back as you walk on wobbly legs. He peels off the comforter and you sink into the mattress feeling like royalty in your crisp, clean nightgown, in your large princess-like bed, surrounded by plush pillows as the light in the lantern flickers. It casts shadows over his dashing features. The flame turns his glacial eyes into a soft apricot and an expression flickers over his visage—concern.

He's harping over your safety and the intruder that happened to bypass his heavily guarded home. No tripped wires, no movement detected on his cameras, and not to mention not a single sound was made until he heard your thrashing in his room across the hall. If he hadn't been there in time—

"You saved me, though." You drone, shutting your eyes as you tuck yourself into the cotton sheets.

His hardened glare softens at your words and how you look at ease now. A testament to your full, unshakeable faith in him. God, you were so quick to trust, it honestly scared him a little for you.

He scoffs. "How can you be so sure that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Because your father would resurrect and beat the absolute shit out of you if you even dared to think about harming me." You state with a sly smirk on your face.

Keegan's expression briefly falters before he lets out a snicker, acknowledging the truth in your bold proclamation. "Crafty little critter, aren't ya?"

You giggle as shift under the sheets. It's almost a bit disturbing how you are seemingly fine and brushing off the situation. "Maybe."

He peers down at you for a moment and the welcoming feeling of your radiance starts to crawl into his chest. Almost like you were right where you needed to be, in his home, in his bed under his safeguarding. He wants nothing more than that. It's almost a bit perturbing how you are seemingly fine.

"Go to sleep." You mumble.

"You go to sleep."

"No, you first,"

"Who else is going to shield you against creatures of the night?"

You pause for a moment. "Good point."

He smiles as he walks over to the armchair, gun propped up against his left leg as he sits to face you. You're already curling up in a ball, and your chest rises and falls at a tranquil pace.

"Good night, Blair." He feels his eyes drooping as his vision becomes bleary.

You chuckle at the idiotic nickname. "Good night, Cowboy."

The remnants of tiny, foolish smiles are left on your faces as you drift off to sleep in your respective spaces. The last passing thought that crosses your mind is Keegan's tender gaze and his fingers brushing against your lips. Keegan wonders what is making you so giddy before the world around him fades out.

As morning breaks, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. The spring breeze wafts into the wisps of your hair and your eyes flutter open. The seat in front of you is now empty and the balcony door is wide open, and yet you're calm as you rise out of bed. Birds are chirping and the incessant droning of cicadas buzzing loudly against your eardrums is merely white noise when you recognize the low rumble of your truck's engine pulling up. There is an urgency that surges within you and soon you're sprinting out the door, and the heat of the cobblestone stings at the soles of your feet but you don't care.

The engine cuts and Keegan climbs out of the truck, sleeves rolled up in his army green henley, and he's wearing a clean pair of relaxed, light-wash jeans that skim the leather of his Tecovas. He peers up at you with wintry hues, tipping his hat, and in that instant, you're transported back to your childhood—Mr. Russ, tipping his hat with those same eyes and that glorious smile that always made your heart race.

The resemblance was both striking and uncanny, but damn, you were totally not complaining.

"Mornin', little lady. You're up quite early." He puts his hands on his hips and he's no longer the stone-faced, vendetta-filled Cowboy that you met last night. He's your friendly Appalachian Cowboy who provides you the sweet, sweet southern hospitality with a charming smile and a bit of a North Carolinian twang that sets your groins on fire.

"Mornin', Cowboy. Fixed my truck, did you?" You lean against the French iron wrought railing with your ruffled hair and white nightgown, rippling in the slight draft that carries the healing scent of sage and lavender. The fabric forms around your body and Keegan notices how it traces the outline of your curves and how the sun is hitting you just perfect enough for you to look like a literal angel.

But it's still the unrelenting, disconcerting feeling that creeps up on him when he looks up at you so unbothered, airheaded with that buoyant grin on your face. Was it really just a facade?

"Fixed it good enough for you to get back on your way." He turns from you to the truck and then back to you. "By the way, where were you headed?"

"Back to the old man." You cross your leg over the other, waiting for his response. He watches as the skin of your legs peeks out from under the peignoir and it's a bit enticing.

"I didn't contact him if that's what you're askin'" His hand acts like a sun visor to block the light out of his sensitive eyes to take a good gander at you.

"I would hope not. Don't need to send him into cardiac arrest." You joke and you see his shoulders shaking a bit, suggesting a chuckle.

"Made you breakfast."

"Yeah?" You simper, leaning a little more against the railing.

He can't help the way his grin broadens as he peers up at your flirty form. "Careful now, can't have you comin' back home with a broken neck, can we?"

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.

Goddamn him and his pretty face. He's already heading inside as you're locking in on him, but Keegan isn't one to give you the satisfaction. He'll play the long game and he'll enjoy every minute of it. From the way you're sitting next to him at the table with your dress bunched up to your thighs to the way you sensually lick your spoon covered with cream and he's internally chuckling at the mess you've made on the corners of your lips, feigning gullibility to get a rise out of him. Admittedly, it's hot. He wants nothing more than to lick your fingers clean and sloppily kiss your sweet cream-laden lips.

Mmmm.

He doesn't say anything. Just enjoys his breakfast and keeps his gaze lowered like a gentleman. The company of a beautiful woman is enough for him on a fine Sunday morning like this.

You can only wonder what he's thinking as you act like a giddy schoolgirl who's trying to get the attention of her professor. Not that you had a significant age gap with Keegan, but in his original line of work there was a massive lapse. Being a retired Marine had probably mentally aged him over give or take 10 years would have been your best guess. And leaving the farm to his cousins in his absence probably impacted him even more, well, according to your gossip girl of a father at least.

He made trips down to NC every so often to check on his favorite, reclusive cowboy, sometimes tending to his facilities when need be. You never tagged along though. In your mind, you were a city girl who didn't mind dressing up as a cowgirl if she saw fit. So coming down from your city job, in the comfort of your sweet loft that overlooked the NOVA skyline didn't exactly make you miss the Appalachia trails.

Still, it is nice being back here with a somewhat familiar stranger in a home you had only seen the outside of because, for the majority of your life, you had so desperately tried to force out the rural in you. Call it toxic, but leaving the mountains always felt like the haze had lifted from your brain. It was unsettling to be here for too long.

"You're nervous."

You glance up from the runny eggs that you have been working on for the past twenty minutes. You give him a sheepish grin. "This place makes me nervous."

"Itching to go back to the city, huh?"

That elicits a small chuckle from you. "And what do you know about me?"

"Well, according to your father," He says in a knowing tone and you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a coy smile. "you love the city too much to move back."

"I don't think I'm too good for it. Here, I mean."

"Didn't say that. The Appalachia isn't for everyone." He butters his toast and then munches on it and soon it vanishes into his mouth. The night before is washed away from your memory, but Keegan loses track of his thoughts as he stares at the leftover jagged lines embedded into your skin from a creature that he knew you wanted to forget. A glance at his watch and he's up, wiping his hands and mouth with the serviette that was on his lap before he places it on the table. "You ready?"

"You got somewhere to be?" You raise your brows, not quite ready to leave yet.

"Matter o'fact I gotta date with an employee from Tractor Supply Co in about an hour, and it's thirty minutes out."

"New livestock?" You sip at your coffee.

A sad smile graces his lips. "Yeah, my last eldest cattle just passed away a few weeks ago."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

For a moment you swear you saw him get teary-eyed, but he quickly shakes himself out of the grief, grabbing his keys as he downs his glass of ice water. He stops himself for a moment as you get up to push your chair in and he can't help himself from tracing his fingers over the claw marks on either side of your shoulders. You shudder from the remembrance and his touch.

"[name]," He starts to express but your mood sours.

"Stop."

His expression falters and so does his hand as he lets it drop to his side. You didn't want to remember any of it. He notices how you clutch onto your necklace and he drops the subject.

"Your trucks waiting." He takes your hand and deposits the keys into your palm.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you."

You begin to approach your truck and you feel relief washing over you as you run your hand over the tarnished, rusted hood of the Dodge before you open the driver door. As you climb in you notice that all your belongings remain untouched. Scattered cassette tapes, polaroids, and the little Hawaiian girl that swayed with every movement still plastered onto the dash. The leather seats seem to have abrasions, revealing the cushion beneath, but you write it off as a bear maybe deciding to try and access your vehicle after you had abandoned it.

"…[name], ….[name]….!"

You're snapped out of your stupor, recollecting your thoughts as you glance over at him leaning his body against your truck. "I checked the vehicle, it's all clear for you to go. Should make it back alright."

"Why wouldn't it be if you fixed the engine?"

The look you give him is blank, free from concern and any worry that may have been left on your face from last night.

He nods, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. "Right, well, it was nice seeing you all grown up."

That provokes a reaction. Heat is rising to your cheeks and Keegan is standing there looking cool as ever as he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his brow before putting it back on.

"Thank you." You say with more feeling, only your eyes acknowledging the horrors of last night. And that's enough for Keegan.

"You take care now." He tips his hat with a good-natured grin and you snicker at his little cowboy bit.

He waves to you as you back out of his driveway and you glance over from your rearview mirror as his towering figure disappears and so does any anamnesis from the evening prior. Or at least, you told yourself that.

And that was April. Months have gone by and Keegan doesn't exactly expect you to keep in contact. He's even surprised to hear a, '[name], says hello, by the way.' from your father during their weekly check-in.

And he definitely does not expect to see your truck in his driveway when he's coming back from milking his cows for the day with his new set of eyes that's in dog form, wagging her tail in anticipation as she sits.

"German Shepherd, eh? Suits you." You simper at him, leaning against the pillar of his home with glossy lips, and a cutesy red paisley swing dress that just barely covers your thighs. Your boots are hardly broken in as they dig into the grassy field and your hair is a little disheveled in an endearing way.

"Name's Miley." He peels off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. He's completely taken aback by your sudden presence, though he's not one to complain about a pretty lady showing up at his door.

"Hey, Miley." You coo, holding your hand to her and she's immediately reciprocating your energy tenfold as she jumps up and down, causing you to giggle and pet her soft fur.

Keegan doesn't even need to say anything as he glances down at the German Shepherd and she's already sitting on the ground between you two.

"Miss me?" You ask, coyly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Blair." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you suspiciously. Something was off.

"I was just in town."

"Uh huh."

It doesn't take long before the act drops and distress is carving into your features. Lips are trembling in fear as your eyes begin to water.

"Something's been following me, Keegan." Your body naturally falls against his chest and his breath hitches a bit at your contact and the smell of your perfume wafts into his senses.

Fuck.

mini taglist: @keegansshark @soapsgf @milkteaarttime

[suguru-getos]

fractures // geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 1

warnings: abusive!suguru, mentions of cuts, mentions of physical abuse (choking, beating up, chaining), not for the faint-hearted. not beta'd. dead dove do not eat. summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through.

it has been in total of three days since you have been caged in the geto estate, at first, your anxiety and palpitations could not let you sleep, now? you're too exhausted to have those in the first place. it was simple, your parents were millionaires and owed geto some money, they decided not to go ahead with the deal and in turn, Miguel brought you here. in the confined walls of the estate where they crush you chokingly.

it's 3 am, your eyes wide awake in the bed that you're confined to, leg chained to the bedpost and the metallic bite of the chain brushing against your skin, bruisingly. your ankle is tied from the bedpost, you could walk around only to a certain extent. why? because you tried to escape and almost succeeded. now even when you try to sleep, it serves as a reminder of how you are a prisoner here. you hate this, all of this because the cult leader named geto thinks you're useless and a monkey. you don't even have an idea what that means...

---

"they have a daughter." miguel hums at suguru, crossing his arms and manspreading, sitting with geto in his office. the feline eyed man raised a brow, "is that so?" "Interesting..." he hums again, feet tapping on the floor. "Miguel, how does she look like?" his voice laced with curiosity echoed in the room which had the two of them contemplating future plans. "wait, i have a picture.."

and there you were, papped and captured from your morning errand, holding your coffee in your hand and wearing a white tank top, and some parachute pants. you were beautiful, suguru could almost call you perfect. if only... you were not a pathetic monkey. he hates them, and they have no place in his world, they will never be a part of his world...

"i just want to go home- i don't have any idea what you're talking about." another flashback rang through your mind. your first day here, comprising you begging and whimpering against the ropes of the chair you were tied to. "of course you don't, your parents do. your opinions are worthless in this anyway." geto looks at you with disgust, his eyes carry a strange emotion... he just, hated you for existing. nothing else. mere existence...

"fuckers like you who have no morals whatsoever have no other choice but to kidnap huh? fucking asshole!" you snarled, screaming out in frustration. you had no idea how your life could change so easily. a large hand wrapped around your throat the next instant, choking the life out of you with no relent. you struggled, eyes widening and feet kicking with wheezing gasps. "you see?" geto hums, leaning in against your ear and gravely whispering, "this is how easy it is for me to kill you, you're nothing. just a worthless piece of shit born to create curses in this world."

you couldn't do anything, your hands were tied up, you could only see the life you had, flash in front of your eyes before you passed out. suguru has no idea of his strength with a feeble human yet. he leans back, noticing the prominent bruising on your neck once your head leaned back, limp and lifeless. he yanked his hand away, putting some sanitizer on it. "pathetic." he hums, gritting his teeth. you were so weak... so fucking weak and still all you had to do was use that pathetic mouth didn't you?

geto left you there for the night, a very minuscule part of him feeling upset over the way he treated you, he would call himself an asshole for it if it was a sorcerer, but you weren't one. who cares if you're not a sorcerer anyways...

the next day, your eyes blinked awake, a hiss escaping you when you noticed you were still tied up, some of the blood circulation stopped because of the ropes tying your body to the chair. you wanted to scream, but your voice box hurts after yesterday. a grim reminder of what your kidnapper was truly capable of. you sniffled weakly, senses in fight or flight.

before your pitiful breakdown could even commence, manami opened the door, watching you with the same disgust her 'geto sama' carries... what is wrong with these people? truly? why do they look at you like you mean nothing. like you have done the greatest sin of the earth just by being born? "good morning, here's the thing. geto sama has informed your parents that you're under our custody, if they agree to give the money then you're safe to go, or we kill you." she shrugs. killing... is it that normal of a thing to say?

your eyes widened at the sheer panic of it, manami noticing the palpable fear in them and laughing, walking closer to you and untying you roughly; ignoring the scratches the rough rope surface would gift your skin. "take a shower." she yanked you by your hair, throwing you on the floor.

a loud whimper escapes you when your ribs collide with the solid marble, your body was still recovering from being tied up. what is wrong with these people? you're sure you have some visceral damage at this, your internal organs hurt with that throw, blinding pain in your sensitive scalp because of the hold in your hair. suck it up... you need to suck it up. "shouldn't you- treat me like a human at least? if my parents come back for me?" you grunt, using the aid of your palms to get up, a little dizzy.

manami cocks a hip out, "geto sama was right, you have a smart mouth for a monkey." she scoffs, walking outside with a hold on your nape. you stumble on the floor, how is this woman so strong? you couldn't understand why... you couldn't budge in her grip on you.

everything is hazy after, except you were force-fed hot soup for telling geto to kill himself during dinner, and not fed at all the next day, getting captured as well for running away and now a chain on your ankle.

you close your eyes, hugging yourself tightly. you need to be your own comfort. you have to be your own comfort. but its hard... the way they look at you, the way they treat you, everything is making you wish you were better off dead. why are your parents taking so long in the first place? what's wrong with them really?

your body is exhausted, unable to keep up with the constant stress. you do end up getting dazed to sleep. although its filled with nightmares. you're woken up to an echo of a voice.

"good morning, i'm sure these don't feel good." geto hums, and you jolt awake, leaning instinctively against the headboard. eyes glossed, fear dancing through your nerves. you don't respond. why is he here? "i didn't think you were that dumb to try to run yesterday." he clicks his tongue, looking at you. gosh you still have the popped lip from when manami hit you after getting caught. some of it is in your nose too. geto sighs, its the way you behave that he gets conflicted. he has always been an underdog supporter, now a bunch of powerful sorcerers were torturing a frail human just because of money...

maybe he should do you a favor and kill you instead. he could just tell your parents that they delayed in sending the sum of money and take the money anyway.He wants to stay true to his word but also wants to return you to them. another part of him... which he hates the most, almost wants to hug you and apologize. That part is the reason you're being treated this way.

"you're not answering me." he raises a brow, watching you shiver with fear and flinch at the tone of his voice. "I'm sorry, won't run again." you managed to say meekly; within three days of you being here, you look like a completely different person. your neck is bruised, your face is bruised, your hair is a mess, you are chained to a room. it is drastic for you, geto knows that. "hm, you know the consequences aren't too great, i would just listen to me if i were you." he adds on, watching your shoulders slump in defeat. my god were you beautiful, you were perfect in his eyes, someone he should have taken on dates if his life was normal. thanks to your disgusting kind, his life isn't normal.

"manami will come to you with breakfast." he stands up with that, and your heart races. you hate that woman and the way she treats you. you wouldn't say geto is any better but at least he isn't downright awful... so far. you nodded, getting up to go and shower at least. the clank of chains in your ankle echoes in the room, and it makes geto stand still for a moment. the flash of his little girls caged haunts in his eyes. isn't he doing something similar to you.

"y/n." he says your name, watching your eyes slowly dart towards him. "if you behave for a few days, the chain will be gone."

you don't respond to that, walking away. suguru bites his lip, he hates this feeling he's getting. a frog in his fucking throat and it's just been four days of you being here. he shouldn't deter from his thoughts like this anyway. you're a monkey, a useless monkey who should be killed as soon as possible.

manami comes in with breakfast and you could only manage a few bites despite not being able to eat properly. manami was not that mean today, all she said that she expected you dead but you're not yet. she says this everyday, nothing ordinary.

meanwhile, your parents have decided to actually manage the sum of money, but it will take time. they inform geto of the same. your mom pathetically sobbing for her little baby girl. "don't worry, she will be alive and kicking, i will keep my word. you have 10 days." suguru cuts the phone call after.

you... would be elated to hear this news wouldn't you? you should be! and so he walks towards your room, where you were laying on the mattress, leg bruised and bleeding. his eyes widen a little. what did you fucking do?

you had a big and a deep gash on your ankle, from the looks of it, you were trying to get free from the chains. what did you even use for this? his eyes land to the sharp enough culinary knife on your bedside table. you were crazy, any other monkey girl would simply behave and let time decide her freedom. why did you want to be so miserable?

"y/n." he mumbles your name again, and your eyes land on him, "geto" you respond, you didn't even carry any malice when you said your name. he walks towards you, getting the first aid from your cupboard and tending to your leg. "if you want an easy enough death, just ask me." he's sure you'd have another panic attack at this statement. you've been having one every day for the past four days after all.

"hm, gimme n' easy death then" you hummed, emotionless as ever. "cus i think m' parents don't give a shit anyway." a stray tear escapes through your eyes, followed by a soft hiccup of a choked sniffle. geto stays quiet at that. yesterday night, he had a dream of you smiling. or what he envisioned your smile would look like... it would surely make you look more beautiful than you already are. he's so sure of it.

"it's not like that, they did contact me and soon you'll be free." he smiled, the close-eyed feline curve that charms everyone fails to work on you. "i see." you hum, and geto trifled with the metallic cuffs on your ankle, gently putting them away. he can't really let you be this miserable. it was pathetic, it was making him pathetic.

"sorcerers exist to protect the weak." his own voice echoes which he preached satoru with. a soft sigh escaping him. he hates you. he hates what you do to him and he hates how you're having this effect on him without even trying. "yeah, a few more days of me tolerating a hooker-looking pest like you." he grits his teeth, getting up. you blinked, unsure what the sudden change in his demeanor signified. all you could do was brace. brace for another attack.

suguru watches you do so, and that sends a shiver down his spine. what's happening to him? he kills monkeys without remorse! maybe he should kill you, fuck your parents, fuck their money. fuck you.

"since you really like using the knife how about i teach you how to use it hm?" you blinked when he spits those words out, feet stomping and holding the knife up. before you could even lean away he has your wrist in his hold, hot tears streaming down your face with the way your heart thumped loud from your mouth. "please please- no no- what're you-" the pointed tip of the knife glides down your skin, and despite your gutteral, blood-curdling screams and pleas, geto only lets go of your hand when he's written the word 'MONKEY' in your arm. throwing the knife away and watching you bleed.

"i hate you, stupid monkeys." he walks away with that, while you succumb to the ache and pass out. it hurts, you could feel the blood trickling down the mattress before your body lulls you to sleep.

meanwhile, suguru shuts himself in his room, the daunting sound of the door shutting down loud and him covering his ears with tears streaming down his face. what's he even doing? why did he have to do that? oh he knows why. he wanted to prove a point that he doesn't feel anything when he hurts a monkey. that he relishes in it... but that didn't happen.

didn't happen at all...

just nine more days with you until suguru geto gets rid of you and proceeds with his mission to kill all non-sorcerers.

[httplilyyy]

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 || 𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐅

pairing: lena oberdorf x reader

summary: you're best friends so what's wrong with one little cuddle?

warnings: nothing but fluff

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i haven’t written for the woso world in a while and due to the wwc going on i thought it was only fair to write a couple fics. send in ideas and prompts for people you want me to write for and i’ll see if my brain can work something out :)

woso masterlist request

You've known Lena for what seemed like forever. From the moment the two of you met you couldn't be kept away from each other. Now three years on, the two of you were as thick as thieves.

Only up until recently, you had been thinking of Lena in a different way. Going from longing gazes to discrete touches. You knew you were falling for the girl but you just couldn't stop yourself.

You knew you couldn't do anything with these feelings so you kept them buried deep down. Not telling anyone. Not a single soul.

Due to hiding your feelings you had been different around Lena, and you were sure she could sense it. As much as it pained you, you tried to put a little distance between you both but you were just not able to keep her from running around in your mind.

You were currently sitting on your sofa at home, scrolling through instagram when you noticed that Lena had posted. Clicking on her account you could’ve sworn you had heart palpitations.

Immediately liking her new photo, your heart nearly jumped out of your chest once you saw a message pop up at the top of your screen.

[ lena: 6:56pm ] eager much?

[ you: 6:56pm ] i’m sorry?

[ lena: 6:56pm ] check when i posted

Opening instagram back up, you saw how long ago she posted. And it wasn't long at all. 1 minute ago. Shit.

[ you: 6:57pm ] what? I can’t like a photo of my best friend?

Playing it cool and definitely not acknowledging the way your chest pained after typing the reply.

[ lena: 6:57pm ] oh no, you can. just seemed a bit quick, no?

[ you: 6:57pm ] i refreshed the app and you popped up

[ lena: 6:57pm ] mhm sureeeee

[ you: 6:58pm ] i hate you

[ lena: 5:58pm ] no you don’t

[ you: 5:58pm ] i’m pretty sure i do

[ lena: 5:58pm ] so if i invited you over for pizza and a movie you wouldn't come?

[ you: 5:59pm ] i hate you

[ lena: 5:59pm ] i’ll see you in a bit

You huffed out a laugh, getting up from the sofa with a sinking feeling in your stomach. You couldn't help but wonder what it’d be like if you actually told her how you felt. Shaking your head, you got rid of that idea.

Grabbing your keys from your kitchen counter, you put your shoes on and made your way over to Lena’s. It wasn’t a long drive and before you knew it you were standing outside her front door, waiting for her to let you in.

“The stalker’s here.” Lena grinned as she opened the door.

“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpanned, walking past her and into the living room where there was pizza laid out on the coffee table.

“Wow, I don't even get a ‘hi’ and you’re already digging into the pizza.” Lena scoffed, sitting beside you on the sofa.

“I only came for free food and a movie.” You said with a grin, discreetly trying to put space between the two of you.

“Whatever.” Lena said, rolling her eyes as she tried to fight off a smile that made its way onto her face.

“What movie are we watching?” You asked, taking another slice of pizza.

“Ten things I hate about you.”

“Really?”

“What? I like a good romcom.” Lena shrugged, taking a slice of her own and pressing play on the movie.

As the movie went on, your concentration became less and less. Your brain solely focused on the person beside you. No matter how much space you put between her, you still felt yourself being drawn back to her. Like an unexplainable force pushing you together.

Shifting in your spot, you tried to get comfortable but it was no use. Every position seemed to be more uncomfortable than the last and unbeknownst to you, Lena seemed to be having the same problem.

From all your shifting around, the two of you were now sitting next to each other. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Lena rested her head on your shoulder, still trying to find a comfortable position.

Accidentally, Lena let out a small grumble, becoming fed up with being uncomfortable.

“You okay?” You chuckle, looking down at Lena.

“No.” She huffed, moving off your shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“I can’t get comfy.”

“Neither.” You agreed, a small tight-lipped smile making its way onto your face.

“Lay back.” Lena said, placing her hands on your waist, pushing you to lay on your back.

“Wha- um, okay.” You said, heart pounding as you let Lena guide you back.

You got yourself in a position so your head was rested on a pillow, being slightly propped up by the arm of the sofa so you could fully lay down.

Once you had stopped moving, Lena crawled on top of you, laying her body across yours.

“Is this okay?” Lena questioned as she let out a content sigh against your neck, her breath sending goosebumps to spread like a wildfire over your skin.

“Huh- I- what?” You blushed, eyes wide as you scolded yourself for not being able to form a complete sentence.

“Do you want me to get off?” Lena asked, placing her hands on the arm of the sofa, either side of your head, so she could look at your face properly.

“No! I uh-” You coughed and let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t think so?”

“You don’t think so?” Lena repeated with a teasing tone.

“I don’t want you to get off.”

“Okay.” Lena smiled and moved back to the position she was in originally.

By now the movie was long forgotten and you couldn't help the way your heart sped up at how Lena was on top of you.

Not knowing what to do without malfunctioning, you kept your arms up in the air, deciding that was the better option.

“You can touch me, y’know. I’m not fragile.” Lena said softly, reaching her arm out to grab yours, placing it around her waist.

“Mhm, yeah. I know that.” You said, placing your other arm on her back, slowly drawing intricate patterns.

The two of you didn't say anything for the rest of the movie, the both of you enjoying the tranquillity of the moment. As the credits played, you had failed to notice that Lena had drifted off to sleep.

You had tried to slide out from underneath her but it was no use. Shifting in her sleep, Lena mumbled a few incoherent words and you knew that you had fallen so hard, you don’t think anyone would be able to save you.

Letting yourself drift off into a deep sleep, the only thing grounding you was the person on top of you.

Many hours passed and it was now the early hours of the morning, the sun peaking through the blinds caused Lena to wake up from her sleep.

Some time during the night, the two of you had shifted so she was trapped between you and the cushions of the sofa.

Lena froze, noticing the position she was currently in and letting a blush take over her features. Her leg was draped over yours, tangled together and her hand had made its way up your top, resting on your stomach.

Snapping herself out of her thoughts, Lena quickly removed her hand from under your top, suddenly feeling her fingertips grow cold.

Shifting in your sleep, you wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her just a tad closer and resting your head in her neck.

“You’re staring.” You mumbled, eyes still closed as you let a small smile take over your face.

“I’m not.” Lena protested, weakly trying to get out of your hold.

“You’re lucky I like you.” You smiled, moving your head back to the pillow and tightening your grip on her.

Lena laid quietly for a while, assuming you had drifted back off to sleep before she spoke up again.

“I like you too.” She whispered, brushing a strand of hair that fell over your face.

“I knew it.” You smirked, pulling her closer into you. “Now go back to sleep.”

Lena let out a small chuckle, pressing her lips to your cheek before cuddling herself into you and drifting back off into sleep.

[gok1bvri72]

I have Lyney brain rot ahhhh! Since no one else is gonna write for a reader other than those powerful "I don't cry at anything and I'll beat'cha up>:(" ones I'll just have to do it myself! Ger>:[ Also I want a story where reader can forgive Lyney for being fatui. We all know he isn't doing it because he likes hurting people>:[

!! FONTAINE STORY SPOILERS !!

Soft Lyney, reverse comfort, Lyney finally breaks, Lyney and reader cry together, Lyney cries a lot, it's okay Lyney we still love you<3

TW: Reader has a panic/anxiety attack because I'm tired of seeing angry reader some of us don't pissy and instead cry>:/

Not proof read<3

���~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~○

(("You're.... you're with the fatui?"))

Your heart pounded in your chest with an emotion that you couldn't quite pinpoint. Betrayal? Fear? Anger? You weren't 100% sure. However, whatever feeling it was you knew it was pleasant.

(("I was going to tell you someday- I-I promise!"))

The blonde magician exclaimed as he stepped forward, his sister looked nervously towards him then back at you. Your hands were sweating, you felt your heart palpitate in your chest as your mind began to rush. Could you trust him? Could you trust any of this? What if it was all just a scheme for the fatui to finish you off too?

The fatui... you hated the fatui so much... they took your family from you one cold, winter night. All because you father took a lone to pay off your little brother's hospital bills so he could live. But it didn't even matter in the end. You got home one night and there was nothing but the stench of blood and death. You would never forgive the fatui.

(("L-Lyney, L-Lynette I don't get it... I- I don't know if I can trust you- the fatui I cant trust the fatui-"))

Tears bubbled up in your eyes as the memories of your past began to flood your senses. So many what if's were racing through your mind, none of them were positive.

(("I- I thought I could t-trust you I don't get it I don't get it-"))

Salty droplets dribbled down your cheeks as your sense of balance began to dull. You dropped to the floor, clutching your face to hide yourself from the twins infront of you.

(("(Y-Y/N), I- I'm sorry- I-"))

Lyney began to blubber, he hadn't been faced with a situation like this before. Watching you crumble to the floor and sob stabbed his heart; this is why he didn't want to tell you.

(("L-Lyney, Lynette, are you going to hurt me? Are you here to finish me off?"))

You looked up at the two from between your fingers, your glassy (e/c) eyes barely visible from in between your tousled (h/c) bangs. Lyney shook his head fervently as he crouched down infront of you.

(("No, not ever. I promise."))

The blonde's voice cracked as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. Lynette quickly joined him, sitting down beside him. Her amethyst eyes were full of concern.

(("We're sorry we couldn't tell you (Y/N), we... we were worried you would react this way. We didn't want to put you through this."))

Lynette began,

(("We were worried you would hate us and never speak with us again; especially Lyney."))

Lyney somberly nodded as he looked towards his sister and then back to you. The expression he wore was pained; his eyebrows were turned upwards and his eyes were glassy. He was holding back tears. He was on the verge of crying just like you were.

You knew Lyney was a talented actor, but no one can fake what look is reflected in the eyes. In that moment you saw nothing but pain and guilt in his lavender pools. You removed your hands from your eyes and inhaled, your lower lip still quivering and your eyes stung.

(("Lyney?"))

You began,

(("Lyney it's.. it's okay. I'll... I'll forgive you guys..."))

Lyney's eyes began the water again, a single tear slipped down his cheek as he attempted to compose himself. You gently leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him as he began to cry, his sister rubbed his back gently as he cried into your arms.

(("I'm so, so sorry (Y/N), I'm so sorry-"))

You could feel his tears dampen the shoulder of your shirt as his hat fell off his head and tumbled to the floor, rolling on the brim for a moment before finally settling. Your heart was still racing as you felt tears of your own begin to form once again. You tucked your face into Lyney's shoulder as you began to softly sniffle again.

(("It's okay Lyney..."))

The two of you cried into each other's arms; so many emotions were harboured in your hearts right now. You'll untangle them later, right now you need to hold the magician boy close. Lyney needs it.

●~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~°~●

[spidernuggets]

Anon asked: ive always had the thought that jason is an extream romantic, especially so when he was younger. I present jason seing reader and thinking she (or he or they) are the most beutiful person in the world But would he pine silently? Or do everything in his power to make them fall in love w him?

Jason Todd x Reader

"Eventually"

Dick was only supposed to take him to the cafe for a quick break. Never in a million years would he think he'd lock eyes with someone he'd want to be a part of their life with. And that's exactly what happened that day.

"Can we make this quick? l'm behind on training, Jason grumbles. Dick scoffs in response

"Calm down, we 'll be quick. Hi, yeah, I'll just get an Americano, thanks.'

"Of course," you reply. "And for you?" You ask towards Jason.

Jason's head lifts up and stares at the pretty person in front of him and suddenly he forgets how to speak.

Jason does NOT believe in love at first sight. He'd ever fully love someone romantically until he believes that both parties of the relationship have full devotion to each other.

No, he doesn't believe in love at first sight. The person standing in front of him just happens to be someone he'd like to get to know more.

"Uh.. sir?" You call out to him as Dick turns his headtowards him in confusion

Jason shakes his head. "Uhm... sorry, I'll just get an iced hazelnut coffee, I guess," he mumbles, just loud enough for you to hear.

"Perfect.. I'lI call out your orders when they're ready,' you tell the two men as they nod and step to the side. Dick paid both orders with his card and put a couple of coins into the tips jar.

Once they both got their orders, they both thanked you. Jason let Dick walk away first before seeing that you had you back turned, making another order.

He didn't know what he was thinking, but he just got the urge to quickly walk to your tip jar and place two 20 bills in.

When you finished your shift and counted up your tips, you couldn't believe that someone would've placed a 40 in. Or maybe 2 people placed a 20 each? Who knows. But you were happy nonetheless

Ever since Jason first unofficially met you, he's been visiting the cafe on his own a couple of times every 2 weeks or so. Then, the visits once every week, then twice every week. Now, Jason visits the cafe every chance he gets. And he realises it may seem stalker-ish, but he's had a grasp of your roster patterns and only shows up to the cafe when you're working.

And you've noticed it, too. And so has your coworkers. After his first visit, you told one of your coworkers the next day about the cute guy you ordered one of your favourite drinks.

And when one of your other coworkers was going over security footage to see who was nicking a cookie or two from the pastry shelf, she reported to you that it was Jason who left the two 20 bills in your tip jar. And you swear you got a heart palpitation.

When you see Jason walking up to the cafe through the windows, your heart sped up, and you get excited and start making his usal hazelnut iced coffee.

When he walks to your counter, you place his drink in front of him.

"Hazelnut iced coffee?" You smile towards him as he returns the grin.

"Know me so well," he replies, taking the drink and placing a 50 in its place.

As you go get his change, he shakes his head. "Just keep the change, sweetheart," he says as your eyes widen.

"What?? No! That's like a 1000% tip!" You exclaim worringly.

And Jason laughs. "It's fine, plently more where that came from, Y/n."

Your brows pinch in confusion as you look down, remembering your nametag.

You lightly scoff and roll your eyes and shook your head. "I don't care, here," you say, handing him his change.

"Fine. How bout I use this money to take you on a date then?" He asks.

You hesitate. Sure, the guy's cute, but... you don't even know him..

"I'm busy," you impulsively say, mentally slapping yourself for the lame response.

"I never said when."

"Busy anyway, tight schedule."

"Liar, you know I'm always here when your working."

"Yeah, I know.."

"I know you know."

"Shut up," you say, and you couldn't help but smile at the small banter between the two of you.

Luckily it was a quiet day and there was no line.

"I don't even know your name," you proudly say.

"It's Jason. And fine. How 'bout," Jason takes a napkin and writes down his number. "Friends. For now. And I take you on a date."

You think for a moment before agreeing. "Eventually," you say, not wanting to be too quick into dating some guy.

"Eventually," Jason repeats.

"But!" You say. "No more massive tips. I'm not going on a date with someone who flaunts money," you condition.

He nods in response. Jason raises his coffee as a salute goodbye. "Eventually," He bids a farewell as he walks out.

"Eventually," you quietly say to yourself, excited to see how this friendship would bloom.

From your condition alone, Jason realises you'd prefer handmade or cheaper gifts rather than grand gestures or expensive offerings.

One time, during the first few weeks that he visited the cafe, he noticed a copy of Little Women behind you.

So you were somewhat into classic literature.

He prepares a little note for you in replace for the cash tip.

When he gets his drink, he pays and puts that note in your tip jar.

You take it out and read it when he leaves.

Be the Amy to my Laurie? ;) it read.

The next time Jason visited you, he placed a red rose in your jar, and this gesture definitely made you blush.

After a month or so of him olacing cute notes and small gifts in you jar, you finally accept his proposal of a date.

And soon, the two of you became an official couple. This was the point where Jason became more of a romantic than usual.

He recited poems and sonnets. Wrote love quotes from his favourite classic novels, putting it in your bag before you headed for work. He made sure you knew his love and affection he has towards you every day.

And sometimes, he'd feel a little cheeky and slip a 50 'tip' in your wallet when you're not looking.

I'm so sorry that this is probably short and lame, Anon, I had so many technical difficulties with this 😭

I based this mainly on Titans!Jason Todd, since he m seems to be more flirty and expressive than other Jason Todds I've seen.

I wasn't sure how to incorporate this into a fic, but I'd think that firstly, when he first sees you, he definitely wants to know you more, but based on his background, he doesn't wanna scare you away, so he silently pines in the background before having the courage to make a move.

I will take to my grave that he recites book quotes and poems cuz he's our little theatre nerd.

In my opinion, when Jason first sees someone, he wouldn't fall for them or anything like that. I'd think that if he hangs out with them enough, then he'd start to have a crush on them.

But when he finally realises he loves them, he loves them HARD. Like he can't imagine a life with anyone else but you.

Thanks so much for the request, Anon. Have a great day!

[inkedinfusions]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐲 | eren jaeger chapter 1

⊱𖣂⊰ | In which you fall into a fictional world with the key to Pandora's box.

⊱𖣂⊰ | masterlist

next–⊱

𝟎𝟏 | 𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥

chapter word count: 3.1 k

content warnings: canon typical racism, blanket warnings

a/n: First chapter done!

It took me about a month to finally publish this, cause I kept coming back and changing the setting, characters and pacing lol. I'll try to update semi regularly, and I'm counting on my outline to scoop me out of writer's block. This chapter, as well as others, are still subject to minor changes, depending on how the story evolves. Also, happy birthday Zeke! (And Reiner)

Thanks for reading!

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐒𝐖𝐈𝐑𝐋 around you, mimicking the panicked torrent of thoughts stampeding through your mind. The ground beneath your fingers crumbles as you press onto it, sending more and more rubble up in the air.

Debris prickles at your eyes and cinders hack at your lungs. Your hair rises up and down and up again, and your heart rushes in your chest, palpitating with dread and confusion.

Where in the hell were you?

You wheeze, desperate to regain control over your breathing, your hand coming up to clutch the fabric of your shirt. Your eyes fight against the dirt to stay wide open, unwilling to forfeit information about the unknown situation you find yourself in.

An unsettling figure approaches you through the dust, their figure haloed by the afternoon sun. Alarms ring in your ears, and you scramble back on your hands and feet until your back crashes against a wall.

The figure stops, and as the dust clouds begin to dissipate, you catch a glimpse of the person on the other side.

Tall, lanky, and with an unreadable face, a blonde woman stares back at you, her blank expression contrasting your own.

The ringing in your ears subsides, beginning to bleed into the voice of the woman.

"–hear me?"

The woman tilts her head to the side, examining your figure. A second question is posed in your head.

"You–" Your voice broke. "Who are you?"

Her eyes narrow slightly, and it almost drives you mad how little you can read her. Was this a kidnapping? But then, wouldn't you be bound with ropes or zip ties?

Your breath hitches when she comes closer, crouching, her face invading your vision. Her blunt cut hair tickles your cheeks, and your widened eyes dart around. Surely this was a mistake, right? Maybe she is just concerned for you; after all, that was quite the nasty fall you had experienced. Or so you think, as you can't recall what exactly you were doing here.

Yes, a fainting spell would explain everything. Mild concussion, spotty memory, concerned woman.

"You are not Ymir," she states.

Your thoughts of kidnappings and falls halt. The name the woman had uttered loops endlessly in your mind and everything falls silent.

There is absolutely no way.

"The... the goddess?" you ask in a small voice, not entirely believing in her factual way of saying it.

A beat passed. You clench your hands together, softly crushing small pieces of the rock that formed the terrace, further encrusting them into your palms. Jesus, would it kill this woman to blink once?

She looks you up and down, like there was something in your appearance that would tell her you were a fictional deity from an anime series.

"Who else?"

This lady is crazy. There was simply no other way of putting it, this lady is crazy. Yeah, you like Attack on Titan as much as the next person, but you don't go around claiming random strangers are characters in the show.

A scoff exits your mouth, your lips slightly curving at the ridiculous situation.

"Yeah, sure, and you're Eren Jaeger."

Silence envelops you both, your small grin faltering at her piercing gaze. She removes herself from your personal space, standing up and looking down at you.

A brief moment elapsed. You finally take in your surroundings, the ruins of an old castle taking away what little of your breath remained. Columns were erected at both sides of the vast courtyard, and you notice a few people mingling around. Oddly, both were looking in your direction. You still don't know how you got there, but you are sure that your memory will clear after a while.

"I fear I still haven't presented myself."

Her words send shivers down your neck, your body unconsciously anticipating the information, your eyes snapping at her face. You feel yourself leaning into the sound of her voice, entranced, as if she were a siren and you a sailor stranded on a rock.

"My name is Yelena."

You freeze.

No. No, she couldn't be serious.

"I am part of the Anti-Marleyan Volunteers. And you–" she narrows her eyes, "–shouldn't know that name."

Time slowed down. Worlds were created from space debris, stars went supernova, civilizations flourished and perished. A miniature Big Bang reverberated in your consciousness, your psyche connecting and disconnecting plot points, characters, arcs, settings.

"I–" you chuckle nervously, "What? So you mean to tell me this is Eldia?"

"Marley, actually."

Your jaw drops. You have half a mind to tell her off, to stand up and dust your pants whilst chuckling at this woman's, at Yelena's, absurd story. And yet, something in her eyes tells you that she is not joking.

Your lips mouth an Oh, a headache forming while still struggling to accept this strange new reality you found yourself in. One where titans and goddesses and a boy with aquamarine eyes all exist.

Reality? No, no it couldn't be. A dream then. A very strange but realistic dream. You just need to ride it out, flow with it until time comes for you to wake up, relinquishing all opportunity to control it as always, unlike many of the people who claimed to command their lucid dreams. And you would start your day as you always did, and you would forget your dreams as you always did.

"You will come with me. We might have not gotten Ymir, but you... something tells me you are a good compromise."

Okay. Maybe not a dream.

Your eyebrows furrow and an objection rises in your throat, instantly extinguished under Yelena's intense glare. Closing your mouth, you find yourself once again surveying the terrace, this time more attentively.

If Yelena was truly who she said she was, then both of the other people were also likely Anti-Marleyan Volunteers. You even catch the eye of a dark skinned man – who you are nearly certain was Onyankopon – who is the one positioned closest to Yelena.

He looks at you with curiosity, but does not make a move to talk or walk towards you. And why would he? You may know his kind heart, but he doesn't know yours. Knowing someone without them knowing you was a strange feeling that you are not sure you like.

You exhale deeply, your hands coming up to your knees to aid you in standing up. While you aren't exactly ecstatic to be under Yelena's unsettling gaze for one more moment, there is truly no other option for you here, unless you fancy being taken in less as an invitee and more like a prisoner.

You dust off your pants and follow Yelena, as she turns around and makes some kind of sign to another Volunteer. They file around you, relatively close for you to distinguish their faces, but not enough for you to call them wardens.

You keep your eyes firmly planted on the back of Yelena's head, not wanting to appear nervous. You will your hands to relax and your breathing to even out, mentally preparing plan after contingency plan, drawing in everything you remembered about the characters' personalities.

No one talks to you still.

The train journey to, well, somewhere, is filled with awkward silence.

You fiddle with the loose threads of your jeans, your appearance making you stick out amongst the sea civilians spread out in the dark green booths. The coat and white armband they had given you did little to help feel like you blended in, not because of the garment, but because of the three people in your train cart that were aware of the separation between them and you. Neither meets your eye, but you had caught the man you didn't know the name of drilling holes into the back of your skull.

Yelena sits across from you in the cramped booth, alternating between scrutinizing you and looking out the window with half lidded eyes. You are ninety percent sure she was already figuring out the best way to integrate your abrupt arrival into Zeke's plan, replacing whatever role Ymir would have had had she appeared instead of you.

A shudder runs down your spine at the thought of the holder of the beast titan. If Yelena freaked you out, you definitely did not want to meet with him. At least Yelena was cold to you from the beginning, not bridging the line into a constructed friendly territory.

On the other hand, Zeke is nice, smart, charismatic. He would not hesitate to sacrifice you for his cause like Yelena, but he would stab you in the back with your birthday cake knife.

You hope that knowing of his future plans would enable you to see through him, read him less like an open book and more like an unknown language that looked similar to your mother tongue.

At one of the moments when Yelena wasn't watching you, you risk a glance at her figure. She looks about the same age as her animated counterpart, so you deduce that you must be a stone's throw away from canon, or already in it.

You slump against the plush seat, sighing. She is still in Marley, so they have not gone into contact with Paradis yet. Probably.

Oh god, Paradis.

If Marley is real, then Paradis is also real. And if Paradis, and more importantly, its walls are also real...

The thread you are pulling on snaps, directing your eyes towards your lap, noticing the tip of your fingers stained an irritated red from twirling the strings around.

You clear your throat awkwardly, absentmindedly shifting in your seat.

"So, uh– where are we going, exactly?"

Your question is rewarded with Yelena's half lidded attention. Your eyes itch to look away, but you press on, determined to get answers out of the Volunteer.

"Apologies. It seems I haven't been clear enough."

The sentence alone is enough to fill you with dread, her calm tone doing wonders at sounding threatening. Maybe you are overthinking everything, but you can't help notice the juxtaposition between her serene intonation and the unhinged woman of your memories.

"You know things. Things that normal people shouldn't know. No – don't try to deny it," she says, putting her hand up when you try to protest.

"I really don't know what you're talking about," you lie through your teeth.

"You mentioned Eren Jaeger. Care to share how you know that name?"

You curse your ingenuity a few minutes ago, when you believed all of this to be some elaborate prank you had become the unwilling victim of. But who would automatically jump to the conclusion that they had been transmigrated to a fictional world?

When you fail to come up with a believable excuse as to why you knew of someone across the sea, Yelena took your silence as its own answer.

"And then there's the matter of what you were doing in the ruins of the old Eldian empire."

You are rendered speechless once again. Scenes of a cruel king, a flying spear, and dried blood on rocks flash before your eyes, realizing a few minutes ago you were on the same spot where Ymir was killed. That explains why Yelena implied she was expecting her instead of you.

Maybe you could spin this in your favor. You blurt out your next words impulsively, trying to regain control of the situation.

"Maybe I am Ymir."

An unimpressed eyebrow rises on Yelena's forehead, not a single ounce of belief in her eyes. It is clear she knows you were lying out of your ass here, but you stand your ground.

"Need I remind you of how you scoffed at my words? Or maybe of how you referred to Ymir in the third person?"

Silence.

You fold. The pressure is too much, and you can't keep this ridiculous charade in front of her. Your fists clench and you look down, your face heating up from embarrassment.

"Yeah, well, maybe I'm not Ymir," you mumble.

A millionth of a fraction of Yelena's eyes softens. "I did think you were her for a second. Weird clothes, weirder confusion. Not to mention the tornado we found you in. But no," –she shakes her head– "you had the wrong age, and the wrong personality. At least according to our records."

"You still haven't answered my question," you retort, ignoring the sound part of your brain that was screaming at you to not provoke her, completely smoothing over her comment about a tornado. That was a problem for future you.

She simply smiles at you, slightly tilting her head to the side.

"Liberio."

This by itself is enough for you to slightly widen your eyes, the name of the city yet another confirmation of the world you are now in. What you know of Liberio sifts through your mind, alternating between images of a joyful festival, a declaration of war, and giant footsteps, turning all into nothing more than ash and dried blood. Yelena chuckles, identifying the hint of recognition in your eyes.

You fight back a shiver, both at her reaction, and at what is written to come.

Other than the tense and brief conversation between you and Yelena, nothing of importance happens on the train ride to Liberio. You simply shrink back into your seat, occasionally lifting your gaze from the floor to the fast paced view of the window.

After what feels like an eternity, a city replaces large fields of green and the train skids to a halt. Yelena stands up, and you follow her and the other two Volunteers out of the cart. Taking Onyankopon's hand when stepping down the train, you take in your first impression of Liberio.

It is... underwhelming to say the least.

The modern comforts and views you had experienced in your modern life make it difficult for you to be awed by an old timey train station, no matter how unbelievable the context with which you had come to it was. And yet, it had its small charms.

Small, because, just as you exit, a guard starts barking orders at the few of you with armbands. You are stunned for a second, not expecting the animosity with which you would be treated. Yelena grabs your arm, bringing you out of your brief stupor, and starts walking towards a sentry post.

"Don't stay behind," are the only words she provides.

You and Yelena, the only ones with armbands in your little Volunteer group, are ushered away into a line. Onyankopon and the other guy disappear into the crowd when you take your eyes off of them, too preoccupied with not straying from Yelena's steady steps.

One by one, the people in front of you present their own documents, verifying and validating their own reasons for being outside the internment zone. You shuddered. Internment zone, as if they were all animals under Marley's control and mercy.

You watch the same papers with which they bought your ticket be presented to the man in the booth, his mustache slightly curling in disgust as he takes in your white armbands. You curl into yourself, feeling awkward in your own skin, your eyes glossing over as you try to tune him out.

" – and this is his daughter."

Yelena's and the guards' sharp gazes turn to you, her voice pointedly signaling for you to speak.

You spout back the fake backstory the Volunteers had fed you beforehand. According to your legal documents, you are now the daughter of a diseased Eldian soldier, left alone after his death on the battlefield. The guards eyes flicker between you and the papers, making you squirm in place.

"So, uh, yeah, I'm staying with my father's distant relative," you finish lamely.

He gives you another do over with his eyes, narrowing them, before simply stamping something on the top sheet.

"Next!"

You let out a breath as you are once again whisked away by Yelena into a shuttle flanked by Marleyan soldiers, waiting for the handful of people still standing by for their turn to be inspected. You step inside the green tent set up in the back, sitting on one of the hard, wooden benches that adorn the interior.

Eventually, the truck's engine sputters to life, and starts moving towards what you assume to be the Eldian neighborhoods in the internment zone.

You stay still for the rest of the ride, as did the others, only swaying gently when the vehicle brakes or makes a turn, nervously fiddling with the sleeves of your too large coat. Not once do you look up to examine the faces of the other passengers with the limited sunlight that made its way inside the tarp.

After a while, you and Yelena finally exit the truck, making a beeline towards the large gates that marked the beginning of the zone. Like in the series, the big gates are open to welcome your small group, the guards choosing to loudly direct you towards it.

The tense silence between you two is only broken by the constant tip taps of your shoes against the rocks of the street. Couples, families and small children are all walking around that afternoon, and you crane your neck in order to see the various brick buildings scattered throughout the main avenue. Black lampposts line the street, and you guess that they'll turn on in a couple of hours, when the sunlight is no longer enough to illuminate the pavement.

Yelena steps into a much smaller street, almost an alleyway, and beckons for you to follow. The dark alley, in contrast to the crowded and well-lit avenue, only echoes your own stride, your breaths suddenly multiplying in noise.

She comes to a stop in front of an old wooden door, her hand fishing a key out of her pocket. The lock clicks, the door whines, and you are hastened inside.

You blink continuously, your eyes taking time to acclimate themselves to the inside. An old, basic room greets you, your nose detecting the faintest notes of woody bark and aged blankets.

Your ears zero in on the drip of the kitchen faucet. A raggedy, almost oxidized tap leaks to your right, making you turn to the origin of the sound. The lack of food and personal items betrays the house's status as one that was barely used, adding to your discomfort and the eerie atmosphere.

"Wait here a moment, please."

Yelena turns to you from the far left of the room, her hand on the handle of another door. It opens with a creak, and, as she steps inside, you are treated with a glimpse of gray eyes behind circular glasses. 

taglist: @dressycobra7

ask or comment to be added!

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XXXI. — YANDERE

cw: Yandere, Mentions of Violence / Torture, Usage of Quirks in a Horrific Manner, Character Death, Infantilization, Mentions of Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships, Overhaul is Insane, Possessive Thoughts / Behaviors, Obsessive Thoughts / Behaviors, Codependency, Graphic Descriptions of Gore, Implied Dub-Con / Non-Con, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: Wow! This is the final day! I'm so happy to have finally reached the end of Kinktober. I hope that all of you have enjoyed my work and I'm glad to have received the support I have! This is actually my fifth year of completing this challenge, but the first time I've ever done it with BNHA. Anyways, enjoy! I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 1.9k words.

Why are you doing this again? 

Oh, it doesn’t even really make sense, but there’s something about this all that makes your head spin. Dizzy, you’re dizzy, and your bare feet hurt whenever they thunder down the bleak and fluorescent hallways. The slap, the shuddering in the walls, it’s all so deafeningly loud in your head that you almost can’t comprehend it. Should you turn back? Your pace stumbles, but you push further. Would it be better if you turned back? Nothing seems like the right option now. If you turn around, you’ll have to stare down those cruel golden honey eyes, have to feel him put his hands on you, all over you, purposefully breaking and bending your body as a punishment, telling you how much it pains him to do this but you were the one who forced him for being so cold-hearted to him. But if you run away, there’s not even a solid chance that you’ll make it out, alive anyway. There are other big and evil men lurking here. You don’t know where they’re stationed, don’t know where they could be hiding, and if they find you, who knows what’ll happen? Would they hurt you? 

Only one person is allowed to hurt you. 

“Little girl, come out wherever you are. It’s not playtime right now.” 

Overhaul, no, Kai. He told you to call him Kai. He said only the most special and dearest person to his heart could call him Kai. And no one else could even fathom it. There’s a tingling in your toes, the pads of your fingers, and you can feel the irregular beating of your heart fracture and palpitate harder. 

His voice echoes throughout the hallways. Where is he? It feels like he’s nowhere but everywhere at once. Bile’s in your throat, and you have to catch your breath. You should really stop running away from him, but there’s a tiny doubt wallowing at the back of your neck. It had just been one time. But it felt weird, really weird, and you’re uncomfortable, maybe terrified even though that’s really harsh because you do care for him but he’s so bizarre and his touch feels so very mystical. He’s enchanting, you think. Is that why it’s hard to look away from him? Say no to him? You do everything that he asks. But what happened last night makes your thighs clench, makes your jaw tight, makes your eyes salty. Tears burn, they prickle like those sharp needles Kai always administers to you. Adrenaline, something’s coursing through you, sickly, a disease, and you wonder why you feel like each step you take makes the world spin in horizontal circles. One step you’re on the ceiling, the next you’re buried underground. Over and over, and those pearls in your eyes spill to the floor. 

“Coooome on, little angel. You’re usually such a good girl for me. But you’re making me angry.” 

Eyes are blown out wide, and your steps falter until you collapse to your knees, feet splayed behind you and hands loosely resting in your lap. Kai’s angry at you. He’s angry at you. Why did you run away from him? You should have stayed in his bedroom, shouldn’t have crept out whenever he was asleep. You love him, don’t you? That’s what you told him last night. You told him you loved him and then he pressed his mouth to yours, kissed you, and it felt really good but it made you squeamish and guilty because he’s evil and he would’ve hurt you if you said no. You had felt like you were going to throw up on him, but Kai’s hand fell on your hip and suddenly he was all over you. Shivers trace up your body, beginning at the base of your back, spinal fluid congeals and drenches, and you can feel it on your lower tummy too. Everything still feels so sticky, strange, and that heat you felt itches at the palms of your hands. Kai’s skin had felt so foreign underneath the flats of your hands, had felt silky but hot, and the sweat glazing underneath your fingertips still wets them. You can’t get the image out of your head. 

“Don’t you love me, angel? I don’t want to have to hurt you. Come to me and I’ll give you a reward.” 

You’re sobbing, choking on your own heavy saliva and gasping through whispers that you want to vocalize but can’t find the will to do so. There’s throbbing between your legs and you don’t know why, he’s disgusting, you’re not supposed to run from him, you’re afraid that he’ll push himself onto you again. It had felt that way last night, too, and you remember whenever Kai had grabbed your hands roughly and guided them wherever he wanted. He placed them on specific spots on his body, and on your body, and he told you those were the places that would make both of you feel good even though you didn’t want to let him pleasure you. But there’s a weak groaning in the back of your mind that remembers how Kai felt upon them. If you touched one of those spots right now while fantasizing about him, would it help you stop crying? There’s so much twisting happening in your belly, down in the places Kai had touched and left his welting mark, had shoved his cock inside, and there’s a reminder of smeared and dried gore on the inner sides of your thighs from his violence. You feel really weak, lightheaded, and your blood is pounding all throughout your being. The ripping and tearing you felt last night shreds in your ear like a motor, and you choke, bend forward, and vomit. Pale liquid is all over the floor before you, splattered, and your hair almost brushes the mess. Oh, Kai’s going to be even more mad. He hates messes. He’s going to hate you forever. He promised he loved you. But he hates messes more. 

“Little girl. Answer me. Answer me now. Say something. Say something or you won’t like what I’m going to do.” 

There’s a trembling in your bottom lip, but you can’t bring yourself to speak. Words lay flat on your tongue, but they just stew there. They’re sour, gross, and you want to tell him that you’re here and that you’re sorry and that you shouldn’t have run away from him and that you won’t do it again and that he can do whatever he wants to you.  He was the one who saved you from the streets whenever you had nowhere left to go. He was the one who held his hand out, curled it around your hesitant paw, and he drew you in. He saved you. Every part of you is his, everything you are belongs to him. You owe him that. Kai said that. He said that was why he loved you, why he needed to take off your clothes and show you how much you mean to him. When he cuts you, when he peels your scabs off, when he reforms your body in mirages—it’s how he shows his love. You’re helping him with something important, meaningful. And you need to go back to him. The words are almost ready to come out— 

“Okay. Okay, I get it. You don’t love me anymore, and I’ll have to show you how to be dedicated to me again.” 

Footsteps pause behind you. The clap of the soles of his shoes. You know he’s there but now you realize that it’s impossible to turn your head. Kai’s here. He’s here, and he starts to walk. Step, step, step, slow and calculated, and you can hear his haggard breathing. Had he been running? The crashing of his body off of the walls, basketballs in the net, round the rim, and you realize that everything Kai’s ever done has been a mesmerizing hallucination in your mind. So many things he’s done have disappeared from your mind, winked out, and you can only remember each and every tender caress, those odd smiles, pleasant words of praise, and you realize that your face is on fire. Powdering conflagrations, infernos that whip their tongues across your cheeks, lapping at the dip of apples underneath your eyes. You’re meant to be his. He doesn’t need to show you how to love him again because you never stopped. That resolve thaws your frozen body, and you tilt your head over your shoulder slowly, mouth open, breath hitched to speak. And then, 

Kai’s looming over you. Dark, shadowy, and you can’t see anything but his glowing eyes. He’s panting, insanely, frustrated, and his fists cinch and unfurl repeatedly. A skipping chuckle begins in the back of his throat, body awkwardly leaning back in a twitch, stiff, broken, mechanical, an off-key violin chord, and then he creaks as he leans forward and dangles over your shrinking form. 

“Do you really want to run away from me that badly?” 

A gasp, and you start shaking your head vehemently. 

“N—” 

Kai isn’t listening. 

“I have a way to keep you by my side forever. It’ll hurt both of us, but it’ll especially hurt me the most. Our bodies can be one together forever.” 

A line creases between your brows so suddenly that a headache thumps between the crown of your head. 

“Wh—” 

Kai’s head rolls and he flops both of his hands out, palms up. He’s not wearing his gloves. 

“Our bodies being one doesn't mean we won’t be autonomous molecularly. I don’t mind using myself if I really have to. It’s all for the plan.” 

What do those words mean? 

“K—” 

Those hands flip over, palms down, and his fingers skitter like cockroaches. 

“You won’t feel a thing. You’ll never have to feel a thing anymore. It’ll be pleasant for you. I’ll be the one to shoulder the burden, little girl. And I’ll never feel so whole like I’ll feel then. Isn’t that what you would want?” 

He’s not making sense. He’s scaring you. 

“Y—” 

Kai’s chuckling turns loud, and he’s laughing loudly in uncanny rhythms. His eyes have never looked fuller. 

“And it’ll truly be me that fixes everything. I’ll be the one to cure everything wrong with this world. As one, as mine, it’s me. Me, little girl.” 

His left hand stretches forward. You’re too afraid to flinch away, to run. You know something’s going to happen. There’s no stopping him. You’re whatever Kai wants you to be. You always have been. That’s why you let the curtain of his palm fall closer to your face. Even with the static, even with the chill that tickles the round of your neck, nibbling the shells of your ears, the quivering that fills you, even with Kai’s touch, heel of palm atop your forehead. You don’t know what comes next. But your flesh starts to wiggle like worms, you feel so light, and Kai’s adoring gaze starts to fade at the numbing pain that spreads throughout your body. There are no more thoughts in your head. Only cold acceptance. You close your eyes as your skin starts to flake off. 

“I’ll make sure you can never run away from me again, little angel. 

Just the two of us.” 

[boybeholding]

Hii! I've started reading your works and i've loved them all so far!!

I wanted to request something if you are still available and if you feel comfortable in doing. Could you do a TransMasc!Reader x 12!Leo, anything will be fine

Thank you, you're amazing!!!

got this one done pretty quick for you anon, I just started T recently myself so I was feeling inspired! & thank you so much!! I'm so glad you've enjoyed my stuff so far :)

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

2012 Leo + Transmasc Reader Content Warnings: NEEDLES & SHOTS, mild suggestive content

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Leo wished he thought this through a little more.

Seeing you floundering with that bag of prescriptions, cases of needles and vials and bandages, he knew right away that it was a job for Donnie. But he couldn’t help it. He was by your side in an instant, taking the slim paper packet from your hands and flipping through the instructions.

“Right, so you’re gonna draw up to the 5 line, right there,” You coaxed from behind him, watching him fill up the syringe. “...are you sure you don’t want me to do it?”

“Positive,” He replied coolly, trying not to let his palpitations shake the vial. He leaned in until his snout nearly touched the plastic syringe, tapping gently to check for air bubbles. What if he stuck you with it full of air and put you into cardiac arrest?? He was pretty sure Donnie said something about that while vaccinating them once. 

“Now you just-” “Switch the needle out. I read the same packet you did, smart guy.”

He went at a snail’s pace, shooting a glare at you when you opened your mouth to wisecrack about it.

“...Slow and steady, huh?” you chimed anyway.

“It did win the race.”

He glanced down at you, the gravity of the situation hitting him as he held the syringe in his hand. 

Right.

He’d been so worried about not killing you, he didn’t even consider how he’d fare, trying to hold your thigh.

“...You’re sure?”

You broke his stupor, and he looked up from where he’d been staring, brow furrowed, at your bare leg. 

“I can just ask Donnie.”

He frowned. The only thought that terrified him more than grabbing your bare thigh was Donnie doing it.

“I got it. Just grab my shoulder if it hurts, ok?”

You pulled your lips into a thin line, nodding as you chewed on your cheek. Leo watched as you tilted your head to the side, eyes closing. Your hand was already resting on his bicep, fingers flexing in anticipation.

He held you steady, ignoring the various ways he felt about your skin under his hand. He pushed the needle in. pushed the plunger. Waited a moment.

“Okay, it’s coming out now.”

Your hand finally clamped down, the pain obviously worse pulling out than going in. Leo grinned slightly to himself glancing up to your tightened expression– the way you smiled despite the hiss of pain that puffed from you. 

He dropped the syringe in the large plastic bottle next to the chair with a pronounced thunk. You cracked an eye open, grinning stupidly at the sight of the Space Heroes bandage being flattened against your skin.

“Feeling manly?”

“With the Ryan band-aid? You know it.”

You stood and stretched, shaking the lingering feeling of pins and needles out of your leg.

“...Thanks for helping, Leo. I, uh… I’m glad it was you here.”

Leo felt heat creep up on the back of his neck, and he lifted a hand to try and smooth the feeling away.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s no big deal… Same time next week?”

You chuckled, holding your hand out to help him off the floor.

“I hope so.”

[breathlessasphyxia]

Tags: Boyfriend!Nanami x Academic Achiever Reader comfort, fluff, no beta, we die like sukuna

ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧

Your heart was palpitating with this heavy feeling that felt foreign to you; and in your clammy hands, your report card. Your eyes desperately scanned the paper for the nth time, hoping that by doing so, it will somehow change the written results.

So many things are going through your mind right now: Where did you mess up? Did you not put in enough effort? Was your performance this school year unsatisfactory? In the center of it all, the C in three if your subjects stood, emboldened.

Your head was so preoccupied that you failed to notice your lover's arrival. With a slumped head in hand, you struggled to maintain your composure; only wanting nothing more than to just embrace the feeling of solitude from your room and hope to every god in existence that your mother may never lay her eyes on your card.

Seeing your obviously distressed state and the familiar white paper in your hand–Kento knew something was up. Slowly, he approached your trembling form. And with a soft voice, he called out your name.

"love, what's wrong?"

Now, to others, you may look ungrateful or obnoxious to react so strongly to decent grades. And it may truly be a punch in the gut for the others who got lower results. But Kento knew you. He knows and he understands just how much you cared about your card results.

You went through countless sleepless nights, doing nothing but studying. Of course, Kento never took it personally. In fact, he was always so supportive of you! He would often buy you snacks, stay by your side and caress you softly until you finally fell asleep on his chest. So seeing you so disheartened truly broke him to pieces.

Just hearing his voice made you want to physically recoil. It should be illegal how much warmth his voice gave you. It was as if a switch had been pulled: like a lullaby was slowly coaxing your muscles to just let it go. With glossy eyes, you turned your head up to look at him.

There he was, hazel eyes filled with worry looked at you lovingly. He carefully placed his hand on your shoulder, testing the waters if you were comfortable with physical touch while being in such a vulnerable state.

And like always, his touch gave you almost instant relief. Like a hot bath that eased your aching body. You instinctively leaned closer against him, body seeking solace after such a stressful mental breakdown.

"it's just.." You paused. Your mind reeled once more, suddenly put out of focus by the sudden question: would he be disappointed? He would be. After all, he has helped you through so much and you can't even repay him with your grades? What if he gets angry at you? What if he b–

You were snapped out of your trance when a familiar pair of warm hands cupped your face, gently steering you to his direction.

"hey, hey, hey, you're fine–you're fine love. I'm here, tell me what's bothering you, hm?"

His eyes were just resonating with so much love and care. It was like someone hand sucker punched you in the guts, you back to your senses to get your shut together.

"I.. promise me that you won't be mad–dissapointed?"

"I have never felt those emotions towards you, and I am highly confident that I will never feel those emotions directed to you ever."

His thumb softly caressed the underside of your cheek, eyes focused and unwavering as it stared directly at you. Daring you to look if there is even one ounce of lie in his words; there's none.

With a shaky breath, you told him everything. From how you had always been a gifted child and how much your mother expected from you, but ever since you stepped into highschool, it was as if your frontal lobe slowly started deteriorating.

Kento listened. He had his full attention all on you, his hands gently clasping yours; his way of showing support. After you finished telling him your tale, a small smile formed on his lips.

ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧*⁠.⁠✧

Part Two:

This drabble was written on impulse because our card day got me actin like ts and I had no Nanami to comfort me XPP

[rosemaidenvixen]

Between Daylight and Darkness

Chapter 8

<Previous Next>

Ao3

“So yeah that’s basically everything, you have any questions?”

Barbara sat in the driver’s seat, fingers locked around the steering wheel even though the keys were in her pocket. Staring out the windshield into the dark parking lot. Wondering exactly what choices she’d made in her life that had brought her here.

When she finally got back in contact with the kids after over an hour of radio silence they’d promised her a full explanation. Wanting both to hear that and reassure herself of their safety, Barbara had all but raced to the canal to pick them up. When she’d gotten there they requested that she stop at a parking lot so they could explain things in detail before she dropped them off at their homes.

She’d now been sitting in the back of the Walmart parking lot for well over an hour. Long enough for Mr. Scott to send a text querying when his daughter would be home.

She really shouldn’t leave him on Read for so long but honestly Barbara was still trying to put her brain back together.

“So…” she sucked in a deep breath and drummed her fingers on the wheel “You’re a troll…”

A single blue eye peered out of the trunk, peeking at her past the partially folded seat “Yep, that’s what I am alright,”

Barbara looked at him in the rearview mirror with her mouth pressed into a thin line. She still wasn’t thrilled about Jim riding in the car that way, but the fact remained that with all six of them there just weren’t enough seat belts to go around. And if they were in an accident Jim was the least likely to get hurt and the most likely to inadvertently hurt someone else. That and watching him tear his way out of the locked trunk of a junker last summer killed all her protests.

That was what her brain choosing to focus on instead of the many many very shocking things they’d all just told her. 

“So let me get this straight. Jim is a…troll. Another troll tried to…attack you…”

Another thing Barbara couldn’t let herself think about for too long without getting heart palpitations.

“Because that amulet you have belongs to the Troll…hunter, and you were saved by two other trolls that took you into an underground city full of trolls,”

“Yeah that’s what happened alright,” Mary mumbled.

Barbara didn’t say anything else, just kept straight ahead at the parking lot, brightly lit with streetlights, empty save for her car, two trucks, and a smart car. All of these ordinary things somehow existing in the same world as trolls and magic and underground cities and– oh what the hell, maybe unicorns to!?

She tightened her grip on the wheel and pulled in a deep breath through her nose, if she didn’t focus on her deep breathing she was going to scream.

God she wanted to call Rose right now.

Instead of voicing any of that she cleared her throat and only spoke when she was sure her voice would be even “So what exactly is this Troll-hunter, because if Jim and the…others are trolls does that mean Jim is supposed to…hunt them?”

“We’re not sure,” Claire spoke up from the back seat “When we showed them that Jim was human Blinky and the spiky troll started freaking out. So the old troll kinda chased us out the door. But he made us promise to come back tonight,”

“Ok,” Barbara let out a heavy breath, pinching the bridge of her nose to try and dispel the oncoming tension headache “Ok…”

“Mom?” Jim poked his head a little further out of the trunk “You ok?”

I’m the parent, you're the children, children who were nearly hunted down by an angry troll– Trolls, which are real apparently, I should be asking you that

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she turned back to face her passengers again “How are you all doing?”

Darci twidled her thumbs “Ok…ish,”

“Yeah okish pretty much sums it up,” Toby shifted in the passenger’s seat to face her “Really glad tall dark and spooky didn’t get us, but still kinda freaking out a bit inside. The whole learning about the secret society living right under our feet thing takes a bit to sink in,”

“We should get more answers tomorrow night,” Claire added.

Barbara pressed her lips together but said nothing. She didn’t like how the kids just assumed she’d let them all go back to the mysterious underground troll city.

Especially since right now she couldn’t come up with any good arguments to stop them.

“We can make plans for tomorrow night after we’ve all got some sleep,” Barbara pulled the keys out of her pocket and started the engine “Right now we need to get you kids home,”

They all either nodded or made sounds of assent at that.

“Remember guys,” Mary said loudly “Our cover story is we were hanging out at Jim’s place and lost track of time playing Go Go Sushi,”

“Got it,”

“Affirmative,”

“Understood,”

“Crystal clear,”

Barbara bit back a heavy groan as she pulled the car out of the parking lot and onto the street.

Trolls.

Secret Cities.

Cover stories.

Just what had her life become?

Focusing on turns and street signs was easier to think about. Darci’s house was closest and was the first one they stopped at. Less than ten seconds after Barbara’s car pulled to a stop at the curb the door swung open and Louis came striding out. 

Darci hopped out of the car and bounded up to him “Hi dad!”

“Hey there pumpkin,” he flashed her a wide smile “How was your evening?”

“Good, we really got sucked into Go Go Sushi,”

“Alright,” Louis turned his gaze towards Barbara, warmth sliding away into cool amiability “I take it you also lost track of time?”

Her throat tightened “Yes, sorry about that, I was busy and didn’t notice how long the kids were playing their videogames,”

Louis nodded “No worries, it happens,”

Barbara didn’t let out the breath she was holding until Louis and Darci were inside their house and she was already driving away. Dropping off Claire and Mary went similarly, with their parents mercifully skipping the third degree–

No, that wasn’t fair. It had been first or second degree at the worst. And it wasn't as though he wasn’t completely justified with his suspicions. If it had been her and Jim in that position Barbara knew she would have been even more skeptical and less polite.

Pulling into the end of their cul de sac, Toby hopped out and ran up to his house. Barbara watched and made sure he made it inside before pulling into their garage.

Barbara killed the engine the second they were inside, slumpling back in her seat and shutting her eyes, a shuttering sound in her ears as the garage door shuffled closed behind her.

“Mom?”

From the backseat she heard the soft slide of Jim folding down the seat, shuffling sounds as he crawled out of the trunk “Are you ok?”

The knee jerk response–

I’m fine hon

Rose up in the back of her throat, but Barbara bit it back before it could escape.

She shouldn’t unload all her stress and worries onto her teenage son, but she shouldn’t pretend everything was fine and dandy when they both knew it wasn’t either.

“I…I’m worried, this is all a lot to take in,”

“Oh yeah,” Jim let out a chuckle and a gusty exhale “I’m right there with you on that one,” 

Despite the situation Barbara felt a tiny smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. Finding it in her to push away from the seat and turn to face him.

“I don’t like the idea of you kids being in danger, or going back to a secret troll city by yourselves,”

She had to fight back an inappropriate laugh at the half stunned half affronted look on Jim’s face, could already hear the protest he was forming, and cut him off before it could leave his mouth. 

“Which is why I’ll be coming with you,”

Jim’s went blank, eyes going wide and mouth gaping op “Oh…I mean…are you sure you’re up for it?”

This time she did laugh, twisting back to playfully punch Jim in the shoulder “Kiddo there’s not a single thing you or any other troll in this city can do to stop me from looking after my son. And if that means going to an underground city, well hand me my pickaxe and headlamp,”

Jim huffed a laugh again “Ok but…it’s…it’s kind of a lot down there, so if you want to sit it out…”

“Not a chance, we’re in this together, and any troll that wants a piece of you is going to get a taste of my krav maga first,”

Jim chuckled at that, and Barbara smiled back.

[deityoftherain]

you're not tango, are you? - Treebark during Secret Life Session Six Fanfic

Rating: General Audiences

Relationship: Gen, M/M

Achieve Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 1,187

Summary: Ren(go) retreats to a cave during Secret Life Session 6's break, but Martyn follows after him, finding something about him familiar...

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

Ren ducked into a lit-up cave that some other Player must have used for mining at some point as soon as the mid-day break was called on their communicators. He was grateful for the break because he knew he could only run around like he was for so long without taking a breather. The Watchers may grant them increased endurance, stamina, and resistance to pain, but that only went so far in the grand scheme of things. Ren put his hands on his bent knees, letting his head hang as he processed everything that has happened in the session so far. 

Secret Life wasn’t like the previous Life Games he’s gone through before, and he was way out of practice. The last game the Watchers forced him through was Double Life, and then They went ahead and switched Ren out with Tango on Session Six! At this point, there was so much information “Tango” was supposed to know that Rengo didn’t! Imitating the blazeborn was difficult, but he must be doing decently, right?

He had to be, he reassured himself. If They found out he failed, who knows what They would do next? They said They would hurt Martyn if he didn’t comply, that They would hurt his friends… hurt them more than they already are hurting. Ren feared They may cause permanent damage to their code, if not figure out some way to destroy them completely. It was a lose-lose situation, one where he had to choose the lesser of the two evils.

It took everything in his power not to run to Martyn and kiss him, hold him tight enough to hopefully never lose him again. Void, did he want to, but Ren didn’t think Martyn nor Tango would appreciate Rengo making moves unexpectedly. Ren just had to wait for the Watchers to get Their fill and reunite them once more, reunite them until the Watchers needed to feed off of their pain and suffering again…

Suddenly, someone called his name, Tango’s name, causing Ren to almost jump out of his skin. He hadn’t expected anyone to follow him in here! He spun to face the voice, his body tense as his heart beat harshly in his chest. “Oh my goodness gracious, dude! You’re givin’ me heart palpitations!”

“Ah, sorry, mate,” Martyn stopped approaching, putting his hands up by his head to show Rengo that he didn’t mean any harm. “Don’t worry, don’t worry. I’m not gonna hurt you. I just want to have a bit of a chinwag with you, that alright?”

Ren cleared his throat, attempting to prepare his vocal cords to speak at a higher pitch than he normally did on his own. He pushed up his– Tango’s sunglasses. Thankfully, Tango decided to wear sunglasses this time around. Ren wasn’t used to going without them. “Yeah, sure, no biggie. Sit down?” Martyn nodded his agreement to the offer, but he didn’t sit or stand beside Rengo, which Ren couldn’t help but be disappointed by it. It made sense for Martyn to want to keep distance and stay across from Tango– they were a part of different factions, after all– but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt, even if just a little bit. Martyn never actually sat down, but he leaned against the parallel wall, so Ren copied him. 

They stared at each other in silence for several moments, Ren enamored by his lover who couldn’t remember him and Martyn studying Rengo’s features. The Watchers had decided to give Martyn hybridity this time around to accord with The Big Dogs branding.

Ren couldn’t help but wonder if They did that on purpose, knowing that Ren would see Martyn with features like his. Did They know that They would need to switch Tango out with Ren for a session? Did They predict that Tango’s code would suffer from the stress and need tending to? Did They do this to mess with him?

"Hey,” Martyn started, hesitant. He rested his curved pointer finger against his chin, resisting the urge to bite the knuckle. Ren knew that look well. He often bit his finger like that when he was trying to work something out. “I don't want to sound like a stalker, but I think I know you. Like, know you, from whatever our lives are like away from this game.”

Ren sucked in his lips briefly before shaking his head, letting his gaze fall. “I know just as much as you do, dude. I don’t remembericate much. Bits and pieces of my past, sure, but nothing concrete.”

“You’re lying,” Martyn stated confidently, Red Life eyes narrowed into slits. There was no question in his tone, but Martyn has always been fairly good at identifying lies and pretending that he wasn’t just as scared as everyone else. His detection skills were nowhere near perfect, but Ren couldn’t claim to be a decent bluffer. “You’re not Tango, are you?"

“Not Tango?” Ren sputtered, waving his hands out in front of it. “Don’t be crazy bonkers, Martyn. Who else would I be?”

“For someone claiming to be Tango, you sure don’t sound like him.” Martyn pulled out his sword, casually adjusting and then readjusting his grip on it as if the movement wasn’t meant to be a passive threat. “Do you want to tell me the truth or do I need to drop another anvil on your head?”

“You said you wouldn’t hurt me,” Ren reminded him, slowly slinking toward the mouth of the cave. His heart ached like a dagger was stabbed through his chest. Having Martyn look at him with such a whirlpool of mixed emotions was almost enough to break Ren, make him throw all caution to the wind. All he wanted to do was hold him close like they did on quiet nights back at Dogwarts, but that wasn’t his right as Tango.

Martyn pursed his lips before sheathing his sword once more, the strong persona he put on faltering. “You’re lucky I can’t bring myself to kill you right now– plus, it’s against the rules– but if I see the opportunity to take hearts from you once the session starts again, I will take it, so watch your back.”

Stay near Love Island or teammates, got it. Ren gulped as he tried to formulate a response. He was saved by a sound pinging on both of their communicators, announcing that the session was starting soon. He hated that he was relieved to get away from the man he loved way too fiercely. “I’m gonna go findificate Skizz and BigB. See ya!”

With that, Ren darted out of the cave, running as fast as Tango’s lithe body would allow him. Ren was used to having longer legs, but Tango’s shorter, smaller frame meant there was less weight he was having to carry. He would be curious to race Tango some other time and see who was truly faster.

While Ren refused to turn back, refused to look Martyn in the eyes after fleeing like a coward, he could feel Martyn stare hopelessly after him. We’ll reunite properly one day, me hand. I promise.

[princesseusminki]

Homeless | Park Seonghwa

Chapter 2.

Disclaimer ! Sexual harassment and disturbing scene! Reader discretion's are advised

He was hanging the clothes outside the house while I was sitting on the table figuring out his issues. He looks happy somehow this morning, I can see the smile on his face. Far from last night pleading expression. What was I thinking right of the bat? Accepting him to stay here, well the pitiful looks definitely works.

"Do you need anything to sort out more?" Huh. I didn't realise he was done with the chores until he caught me off guard. " Ah not yet...Seonghwa let's eat and...talk" Suddenly I can see the sadness washed over his face again. I didn't have anything except ramen, forgot to restock my groceries. "Sorry, ramen is the only foods I have right now". Looking sheepishly. "Don't worry...it's better than nothing". Right. He slurped the ramen so was I. " What actually happened?".

"Fucking twat look ahead would you" he looks like he about to throw punch at me, I put my arms front, defending myself before it's getting worse. "Dude cmon leave him alone". A spit spewed right onto my head. I didn't meant to hit him. My vision was blurry right after I went out from the room. Cold water hitting my face, as I looking myself onto the mirror, a tear of cries sliding my face. "I was looking for you, you know, cmon along now, entertain me". "Apology, madam I'm preoccupied now". I just want to run away and end everything now. "What is that mean?, I fucking paid you". "Go find another whore for you to pay around". I walked away from the bathroom before I felt sting behind my back and my visions turning void.

I woke up surrounded by a white senile wallpaper with a hint disgusting drought medicine smell. "You're lucky we found you". So I did faint. " We're just gonna keep it simple, nothing happened and you're gonna come back, all compensated through the medical bills". I preferably look distant. " hey, did you get it". "Im quitting" . I can feel the palpitations session inside my heartbeat as I spewing it.

A smudge reaction thrown, " Is it a fucking joke? Didn't know you can make one, always looks serious". " You're not quitting, you know why?". As he gripping harshly on my ward coat. "You're fucking pathetic, whilst no one helps you except us, taking you on the street looking rugs". " I still see that 9 years old scared child staring at me".

They said life always has options regardless, but I wish i did back when i was a child. Mom and dad died when i was 9, sending into orphanage care centre was the last choices since no ones want me. So I ran away. Tried to make the end-meets each everyday from scrap, either ways it didn't work out well until I met Kim Myeong-Gil. He was everything to me, my saviour, my guardians angel; who helped me while no one else did. That's until my chastity was imposed.

He said the job is basically to assist people. It was handful work at first that's until, I got forced and raped. Sometimes it was men and women. I didn't know what it was at first. All I know I want to die; it was such dark and trapped, I had nowhere to go. That until i managed to run away from the torture endangerment of the place and met the most profound souls girl.

Kim Iseul.

[heartbeatan]

The Art of Revenge (Chapter 5)

Return to Chapter 4.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to Jungkook Fanfictions.

Return to Table of Contents.

Return to One Nights Series.

Return to Masterlist.

Chapter 5

It didn’t take long to find Jungkook. The moment you left his room, you followed the rustling you could hear coming from the main area, until you spotted him working around the kitchen countertop amidst a sea of fry pans, plastic, food, and countertop appliances.

“Hey,” he greeted you when he saw you.

“Hey,” you smiled faintly as you rounded the island and took a seat in the stool across from him. You hadn’t intended to dodge his gaze - although you were feeling a little“morning after” shyness. He just had so much stuff strewn across the counters, and your eyes were busy trying to connect the dots between it all. It looked like he had a dehydrator running, some beef cooking in the skillet in front of him, and a vast collection of plastic bags next to what appeared to be a sealer. “You, um, going camping or something?” you asked when you thought you had your finger on the pulse of what was happening.

“Kind of, I guess,” he nodded, as he reduced the heat on the stove and moved to rinse his hands. “We start touring in a few weeks, and it’s cheaper and easier to eat like this. We don’t sleep in a lot of hotels.”

“Oh yeah?” you finally looked up at him, once he began to move around the counter and towards you. His hands were occupied with the kitchen towel he was drying them in, but he leaned down to catch your lips with his, offering a chaste “good morning” kiss that made your heart palpitate. You pursed your lips when he stood back up, but it wasn’t a strong enough gesture to hide how badly you wanted to smile.

“Nah,” he returned to his side of the kitchen and opened up the fridge, pulling out a carton of orange juice and setting it in front of you. “We used to actually sleep in tents and hammocks, but we started splurging last year - we have a whole bus with beds and shit.”

“Ooo, “ you mused. “You’re going all 70s rock ‘n roll. How many groupies can you fit on that thing?”

He didn’t give an answer, just a crooked smirk and wink. You chuckled quietly, but at the same time, your insides soured at the idea of Jungkook fucking his way through a bus load of beautiful women who waited for him backstage. You were a touch jealous. Jealous that you weren’t the one who had a line up of hot, stringless sex for the summer, but also a bit jealous that other women were going to get a piece of what you had last night. The fates were cruel… you came up here to use Jungkook to make Stephanie jealous, and now you were going to end up the jealous one.

The smells of all the cooking and dehydrating wafting up around you were intensifying. You felt your stomach turn and your mouth begin to water as your body demanded to be fed. You poured yourself some orange juice the moment Jungkook slid a glass in front of you, but when you were halfway through shot-gunning it like a beer, your stomach growled out another protest - one that Jungkook heard.

“I take it you’re hungry?” he laughed.

“I think I might be,” you feigned embarrassment.

“Well… despite what it looks like,” he eyed the mounting bags of dehydrated camping meals, “I don’t actually have a lot in the house. I was gonna go get groceries before you got here, but… you showed up a lil early.”

You crinkled your nose, now actually a touch embarrassed as you remembered how hasty and irrational you had acted these past couple days. “Sorry about that.”

“Y/N,” his expression formed into one of exhausted amusement as he shook his head. “Please stop saying you're sorry. It’s no big deal - and I invited you here. We’ll go into town, get brunch, and go to the store on the way back.”

“No, no,” you put your hands up to swat the idea away. “Don’t worry about me. I should get on the road now anyways. I’ll just go to a drive-thru and grab something myself.”

He stilled when you said this, giving you the distinct impression that he hadn’t anticipated your plan. “I thought you were staying until Saturday?”

“Well,” you began slowly, as your pulse began to race with the prospect that you could potentially spend the next couple days here, with him… doing… stuff. “I mean… that was the plan when I was supposed to be coming up tomorrow.”

He nodded thoughtfully as he began to clean up the countertop.“When do you have to go back to work?”

You let out an exasperated sigh. You hadn’t even thought about what it would be like to have to go back to work after this entire fiasco. You still had so much to do when you got home in terms of kicking Chris out and moving yourself. The idea of having to fit work hours into that mix was making you feel the onsets of a panic attack. You might have actually had an attack had you not pre planned your agenda. “Not for a month, actually. I called my boss and told her I was taking my honeymoon early.”

Shit, did I cancel everything for our trip? the question crossed your mind as you made a mental note to do that asap.

Jungkook gripped the edge of the counter, supporting himself against it as he stood square across from you. “Okay,” he shrugged. "Stay for the weekend. Stay longer if you want. You don’t need to rush back.”

Everything about you loved that idea, which only made you nervous. After the trauma of believing your life was perfect, only to find out that it wasn’t, you couldn’t help but feel a bit skeptical - like the seemingly harmless idea of spending a perfect long weekend with a sex god was going to blow up in your pretty little face as well.

“I don’t want to impose,” you protested - instantly regretting speaking. Of course you wanted to stay.

“You’re not,” he shook his head, as if the idea was ridiculous. “I’m a recluse who lives in a cabin in the woods. I really have nothing for you to impose on.”

“But like… you have your jobs, and obviously you’re prepping to go on tour and stuff. Won’t I get in the way?”

His lips curved and his eyes began to twinkle, as something mischievous crossed his mind. “Only if you plan on us having sex 24/7 for the next month.”

You clicked your teeth, as your body fought to not erupt from the rush of sexy images running through your head. “I don’t know if I can promise that I won’t try, Jungkook.”

His throat bobbed - and it didn’t help the growing need stirring behind your navel. “In that case, then yes, you’ll get in the way. But I also won’t complain about it. Besides, I promised to send you home walking crooked. As far as I can tell, you're still walking just fine."

You nodded, reaching for the glass again as you battled a blush, as well the urge to initiate something right there in the kitchen that might risk contaminating his tour sustenance.

"Fair point," you resumed sipping your orange juice as you thought about his offer.

“Stay, Y/N,” he spoke again, his voice now a gentle plea. “At least for a few more days. No offense, but… what are you in such a hurry to get back to?”

His words were like taking a bullet - but he was right. What were you in a rush to get back to? Certainly not Chris, or Stephanie, or your step-mother. The idea of moving was a fucking nightmare, but… realistically, between your friend the realtor, your friend the lawyer, and hiring professional movers, you could really coordinate a shit ton of your tasks with just a few phone calls. Hell, if you did it right, maybe you’d never have to go back to that town ever again.

With a heavy sigh, you looked to him and gave him a contemplative nod. “Alright. I’ll stay. Until Sunday?”

“Sounds good,” he turned away, and you thought he was hiding a smile. He wanted you to stay, perhaps more than he let on.

Pervert, you grinned.

“Kick me out if you get sick of me, though,” your tone became serious. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome. Even if you need a few hours of space or whatever. There’s tons of stuff I want to do around here, I can make myself gone easily.”

He scoffed, “You’ll probably get sick of me first and hightail it out of here.”

"I doubt that," you brought the last of your orange juice to your lips, but just before you downed the final gulp, your mind misfired something it should have held back. “I might end up staying forever if every night is like last night.”

Shit! you cursed yourself as you realized what you had said. You were just days out of a failed engagement. Last thing you wanted was to come off like you were trying to get Jungkook to put another ring on it. Fortunately, Jungkook didn’t become instantly appalled, terrified, or suspicious - so your paranoia was probably misplaced. Regardless, you felt the need to clarify.

You smiled to try to emphasize that you were just complimenting him, and not trying to wife him. “I meant like… the sex was good. I’m not trying to...” you felt your cheeks heat as you thought about how not to end that sentence. I’m not trying to become your girlfriend? Wife? Squatter that you have regular sex with? Although all of those options didn't sound terrible.

Fortunately, Jungkook saved you from your private spiral. “I got it," he winked, "It was pretty awesome.” Then he moved to finish up his cleaning, which you decided to jump in on since it felt weird to do nothing.

When you had the dishwasher running, and all the food bags were stowed away, and you were about ready to eat your own foot, Jungkook turned to you and proposed once again to take you into town. "It’s on me," he offered to pay for brunch.

“No, no, I’ll treat you,” you shook your head. “I’m the one who’s putting you out.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but you interrupted him before he could utter a word.

“I insist.”

He soured, sucking his teeth as he thought about how to rebel. “My house, my rules.”

You narrowed your eyes and tilted your chin in defiance. “We won’t be in your house.”

“My town my rules” he playfully quirked his eyebrow.

You bit your tongue. Fighting with him like this was kind of… turning you on. If only swallowing his dick could replace your stomach’s need for actual food. “How about we just race for the bill?”

After a moment of thought, he stuck out his hand. "Agreed,” he relented, and you accepted his handshake. “We’ll take the truck.”

⁂

The drive into town was at least a 15-minute jaunt – but once again, the view was stunning. Not only the view of the driver beside you - who in his aviators and ripped jeans was looking like the stuff of wet dreams and all your romantic fantasies – but also the view of the rolling hills, bright blue skies, and sailboats floating throughout the lakes and sounds. It was so peaceful up here. It reminded you of the family trips you took as children to your aunt’s house on the water.

“Do you fish?” the question spilled out of you, seemingly out of nowhere.

“No, actually. I’m more of a gatherer than a hunter,” he laughed. “I just grow vegetables - although I’m bad at it. I should start though, eh?”

“Why not?” you shrugged. “You’re in the best place for it. Cheaper than the supermarket.”

“You fish?”

“On and off, I guess,” you lamented. “More when I was a kid, but I did take Chris once out on Dad’s boat. It wasn’t really his thing,” you laughed, recalling how much the man struggled to sit still in a boat for more than ten minutes.

“So you can teach me then?” Jungkook’s statement was animated - like he was proud he had swindled you into something.

“Fuck yes I can,” you boasted.

“In that case,” you felt the truck begin to slow as you approached a turn in the road, “I was going to take you to the diner, but I think we should go to the Warf instead and hang out with all the seamen.”

“Ew,” you scrunched your nose. “Why do I feel like you wait for the chance to say that?”

“Because you would be right to think that,” he smiled impishly without a hint of shame.

“Is that the one up from the marina?” your eyes began to shoot around the unfamiliar road, trying to figure out if the restaurant he was talking about was the pretty place you had put on your bucket list the last time you were up here.

“It is. You been there?”

“No, I just saw it last time. I wanted to go. It was on my list of things to do if I ever came back up here.”

“You have a list?” you couldn’t see the incredulous look he had behind his sunglasses, but the wrinkle on his forehead told you he was skeptical.

“I have a book full of lists for everywhere I want to re-visit,” you replied defensively – warning him to not judge your quirk.

“And this town was one of your places?”

“Mm hm,” you nodded. “Stephanie and I stopped in town cuz she needed a new swimsuit or something… I don’t remember – she forgot to pack something. Anyway, we got lost on the way to your house and drove around for like an hour. We saw lots of cool stuff to do.” You then turned to him and gave him an expectant glare. “I was waiting for you to throw another party.”

He sniffed a laugh as he turned the truck down another small road - which you quickly learned wasn’t a road, but the entrance to the restaurant's parking lot. “Well, I’m happy to help knock one thing off your list.”

After finding a parking space strategically located in a shady spot under some trees, you climbed from the truck, shut the door, and rounded the hood to meet Jungkook. His arm was casually outstretched towards you, and without a single thought or hesitation, you slipped your hand into his, and he guided you palm to palm towards the restaurant.

The place was crazy busy, and food moved out of the kitchen like it was being shipped across an industrial conveyor belt. Your server basically took your order the moment your ass hit the pleather of the booth she sat you in. Food came about just as quickly, and soon you were face-to-face with a fresh platter of hash brown potatoes, fruit, toast, eggs and sausage. You both scarfed down the first several bites in total silence. Not by any sort of choice, you were just so hungry that not even a nuclear threat could distract you from your food. But when the time was right, and you were both satiated enough to acknowledge each other’s presence, you began talking again.

“So,” Jungkook began through a mouthful of toast, “what else is on this list?”

“Mmm… the grotto?” you picked the obvious tourist trap.

“Good choice,” he nodded.

You grabbed a napkin to wipe your lips. “When we were up here, I tried to convince Steph and Chris to go one morning, but they didn’t want to. A couple others were interested in going, but… you know… everyone was basically shitfaced drunk for three days so no one could drive, ha ha!”

“Well, damn, I would have taken you if I had known you guys wanted to go.”

“Really?” your eyebrow raised.

“Sure,” he nodded. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

You cricked your neck as you thought back to that weekend, and all the other weekends you two had spent in the same vicinity. “I don’t know. I guess… I thought for a little while you didn’t really like me. You and I never really talked a lot over the years, you know?”

He became a touch more stoic, but he nodded as he agreed with you. “You’re right. I mean… not that I didn’t like you or anything. But, yeah, I get what you’re saying about us not talking much.”

You twisted your lips into a pensive pout as you tried to count the number of times you and Jungkook actually had a full conversation. There were, maybe five instances you could recollect where your interactions lasted longer than three minutes. A thought crept across your mind, and you sniffed a quiet laugh.

“What?” Jungkook pried.

You rubbed the back of your neck as you eyed how close the other patrons were to you. The place was loud enough, so you doubted anyone would hear you. Nonetheless, you leaned slightly forward and lowered your voice just to be sure.“I think at this point you and I have spent more time having sex than we have ever spent speaking to each other.”

Amusement decorated his face as he did a mental calculation of his own. “I don’t know if that’s hot, funny, or sad.”

“All of the above.”’

“Yeah…” he sighed. “It might be my fault. I wasn’t avoiding you, but I was avoiding her. You were always with her, so…” his voice trailed off into thought.

And there it was again – that underlying disdain that crept up every time he spoke about Stephanie. You weren’t sure what it said about you, but feeling as though you weren’t alone in your hatred for her was incredibly satisfying - misery loves company and all. You were curious about what caused the rift between them, but you weren’t sure if it was your place to ask, and you certainly didn’t want to bring it up now and risk ruining breakfast.

But you were so curious…

“What?” Jungkook prompted you again, picking up on the fact that you were caught in your own thoughts.

“Nothing. I’m just thinking,” you shook your head.

“Well, now you gotta tell me.”

“It’s none of my business.”

“Just say it. You’ll drive me crazy wondering.”

You huffed. Well, you wanted answers, and now he couldn’t blame you for overstepping. “I’m just curious what happened between you two. I don’t want to pry – well, I do want to pry – but I appreciate that whatever happened between you is none of my business. It’s just…” your voice trailed off, and you held your palms to the sky as you tried to capture what you wanted to say. “The way she talked about you, it’s surprising to find out you don’t really like her very much. Plus, she was supposed to be my best friend, but then she had an affair with my fiancé,” you paused for a minute to choke back a sudden lump in your throat.

Not now, you cursed yourself. You hadn’t yet actually cried over everything. You knew one day you would need to, but you sure didn’t want it to be right now, not in the middle of a busy diner, and you really didn’t want Jungkook to be the one to witness your meltdown. You pushed your feelings away and continued, “I just can’t help but wonder what else I believed this whole time that has been a complete lie. I feel like such an idiot.”

He shook his head as he thought, and you held your breath as you waited. “You’re not an idiot,” he said, looking up at you with wide, empathetic eyes.

“I am, though. How could I be friends with someone for so long and not see it?”

"People change, Y/N,” he shrugged. “Don't beat yourself up. We all change, just not all of us for the good.”

He was right, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that you had been blind for so long. Sure, you knew Stephanie from before University, and you certainly knew that you had changed a lot since going off to school, and even more since, but still… What hadn’t you been seeing this whole time?

You thought once again about asking him about his experience with her, but before you could work up the courage, he changed the pace to something more cheerful.

"How about we get ice cream and go for a drive after groceries? I got somewhere cool to go that you won't find on any tourist brochure," he winked.

"It's not like... where you go to dump dead bodies or something, right?" you eyed him skeptically, albeit, jokingly.

"Nah, I don't take women out their until the third date," he winked.

You nearly spit out your food as you laughed.

Well... mood shift challenge was successful. You no longer felt a lump threatening to lodge itself into your throat - you were back to feeling lighthearted again... and sexy again. You slid your cork-wedge heel along the floor, until your shoe found his shoe. Then, you slipped your foot from the wedge, and let your toes drag carefully up the inner length of his leg. You weren't sure how common a game of footsies was in this modern age, but Jungkook reacted with grace. He smiled, but his tight-lips, and sharpening eyes told you he was something more than just smiley. He slid a foot of his own forward, giving you just a touch more access to his lap - which you were appreciative for.

Days like these, you were reminded of just how blessed you were to have long, tapered legs.

When your foot slipped over the crotch of his pants, Jungkook tucked a hand beneath the table, and wrapped his fingers around your calf - stroking it in shallow passes, while your toes tickled the length of his bulge. It was when you felt him begin to stiffen into a semi that he grabbed tightly around your ankle, and gave you a sideways glare.

"Y/N, this is a small... small town..."

Even though he was warning you, it didn't sound as if he really wanted you to stop.

Nonetheless, after everything he had already done for you, you supposed it wouldn't be all that nice to force Jungkook to walk through a restaurant full of his peers with a raging hard-on. However, as you looked at him, your eyebrow quirked in a smug-satisfaction, you noticed beyond him the silhouette of your server approaching the table with what looked to be your bill. You then had a plan - and about ten seconds to execute it.

You slid your foot along his guarded cock, and as expected, despite the restraint on your ankle, Jungkook didn't stop you. You slid upward again, applying just a touch more pressure, and Jungkook let out a small noise as his fingers tightened around your ankle. You did it again, then pressed firm again against him, the curve of your arch now covering the curve of his cock.

Jungkook looked away from the other patrons, seemingly taking in the view out the window, but you knew better that he was looking at nothing - he was only feeling.

And that's when the server arrived, and you made your move.

"I'll take that," you dropped your foot and launched yourself forward toward the server, plucking the bill from their hands before Jungkook even realized you were no longer petting him under the table. "I can pay right away," you informed the server as you reached for your wallet, and they seemed pleased to square up right away and get you the hell out of there.

You were happy to get out of there now too. Jungkook definitely was as well, you knew that, despite the way he was staring daggers at you since you bested him for the bill.

You gave him a wink, and he gave you a look that made your spine shiver.

"You'll pay for this," Jungkook said confidently when you were alone again, while you were gathering up your things from the booth.

"I already did," you sang triumphantly.

"I don't mean like that, Y/N," his voice was dark and promising - and now your nether regions were shivering too.

Go to Chapter 6.