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sunonyoreface · 2 years

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One Cot - Simon “Ghost” Riley

Hi there, this story is a one shot about Simon Riley. I haven’t played COD before and I don’t know much about his character, but I love the thought of tough men being soft.

Summary: You help Ghost on a cold night and he returns the favour.

Word count: 2398

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: none, fluff.

Crews like task force 141 aren’t the type to pack extra cots. They don’t need them. Because crews like 141 don’t make a habit of bringing home extra bodies. There’s only ever one scenario when they have extra cots. Luckily for them, tonight’s not one of those nights.

For me, however, that means another night on the floor with my ankle cuffed to the bottom of one of their cots in case I try to run.

Although I’m deemed non-violent, I’m also a flight risk. According to them at least.

According to me, I have no clue where we are or how I’d even survive away from them. I’ve got no money, no ID, no map or compass, or even the slightest clue how I’d escape. Regardless, the cuffs stay on.

My wrists face the same fate. But my hands are free enough to rake them through my damp hair, working them through the tangles. It’s a soothing feeling of normalcy in this strange place.

In his cot on the other side of the room, Soap waits for one of the other boys to return from the showers and trade off babysitting duty.

One thing I can say is that chivalry is not dead, because they allowed me to shower first. Not that it matters all that much. There’s no hot water anyway so there isn’t much of a benefit in going first. But it’s the thought that counts.

Ghost is the first one back. It’s strange not seeing him wear layers upon layers of tactical gear. Instead, he only wears dark jeans and a black henley. And the balaclava too. I’ve yet to see him take it off. I wouldn’t be surprised if he showered with it on. I don’t know that the other guys have seen him take it off either. They make comments sometimes, little jabs and jokes about how it never comes off. Ghost hardly notices though. Or maybe I should say hardly reacts. He’s stoic through it all, preventing any emotions from breaking through.

Soap leaves without a word. They understand their positions. So well, that half the time I think they’re communicating through their thoughts.

Ghost places a duffel bag on the cot I’m cuffed to. I sit cross-legged on a blanket on the floor as he ruffles through it.

His strong form towers over me two feet away. Ghost doesn’t make eye contact as I watch him search through the bag. He’s less threatening without the bulky gear and a gun in his hand. But that mask is still terrifying enough to find its way into your dreams.

However, it's not the mask that sets me on edge around Ghost, it’s his eyes. They’re cold and unwavering, giving away nothing. They’re the eyes of a killer. Of someone who enjoys inflicting pain. Of someone whose been in so much pain himself, his only release is passing it on to others.

He hasn’t bothered me that much since my first day with them all. Back when he was ready to put me down like a lame horse. I was a loose end that needed to be tied up. Still am, if I’m being honest. Price stopped him, but if it was up to Ghost, I’d have been dead for days now. Even now, I’m sure part of him wants to kill me knowing it’s the more logical option. But until then, he’s under orders to keep me alive.

“Anyone ever tell you that you’ve got a staring problem?” His rough voice breaks the silence. He rarely acknowledges me so for him to speak up must mean I’ve struck a nerve. My mouth suddenly feels dry.

“Just you,” I say. “Sorry.”

But I don’t look away. I continue to watch him search through the bag. I don’t know what he’s looking for but he can’t seem to find it. The tight sleeves of the Henley hug his strong arms. Even through the fabric, I can see the defined lines of his muscles. His posture is nearly perfect and his movements could almost be considered robotic.

“What’re you looking for?” He doesn’t seem like the type of person to misplace his things.

“Nothing,” he responds bluntly.

“Maybe it fell behind the cot. I can check for you?” I offer.

“Negative.”

“Are you sure beca-“

“Stop talking, y/n,” he snaps. I flinch at his response. As he says this he finally makes eye contact with me and I regret ever looking at him. There’s an anger in his eyes that no man I’ve ever met has been able to match. A deep-rooted hatred for the world and all of its inhabitants. It’s not a look that you’re born with. It’s one that’s carved from years of pain and betrayal. He’s witnessed the type of things that would break most people. The intensity of his gaze is too much. I break eye contact to stare at the floor.

Fine. I won’t try to help.

I lean against the cement wall and try to think about anything else. I press my hands to the inside of my thighs in an attempt to warm them up.

When they found me I was only in ripped shorts and a ratty tank top with nothing else to my name.

Since then some of the men spared me a set of long johns, a long sleeve shirt, and a pair of thick socks. I’m not allowed shoes in case I try and take off. It’s better than what I had but the warehouse is cold and the cement floor seems to suck out any heat my body produces.

Ghost angrily zips up the duffel bag and tosses it on the floor at the other end of the cot. I watch the bag skid for a foot before finally coming to a stop.

He climbs onto the cot with a dissatisfied grunt. Ghost sleeps with his head on the far side of the cot and his feet at the end I’m cuffed to. He doesn’t take his shoes off. None of them do. In fact, I’m surprised he isn’t sleeping with more gear on. Some days they’ll all sleep in their tactical gear as if they’re waiting to be attacked. Part of me is relieved they don’t feel as though that’s a threat tonight.

I can hear voices echo down the halls. Some of the others must be done in the showers.

I lie down on my makeshift bed: a pillow and a blanket that I fold in half to act as a mattress and duvet.

When I lie down, however, something shiny catches my eye under Ghost’s cot.

It’s a tiny chain. A necklace.

On my hands and knees, I crawl under his cot to grab the necklace.

“What’re you doing?” Ghost mumbles above me. I hear him shift his weight against the rough canvas fabric.

When I back out from under the cot, he’s sitting with his legs off the edge. Suspiciously eyeing my movements. His right hand is in one of his pant pockets probably wrapped around a knife in case I try something.

I kneel in front of the bed beside his legs. My damp hair clings to my neck and the tip of my nose is red and cold.

I raise the chain up to Ghost. His eyes latch on immediately.

“Is this it?” I ask. He eyes me suspiciously. I see him searching for any signs of deceit. Maybe I lied to him and hid the chain from him. Maybe I pickpocketed him before he went to shower. But I didn’t do any of those things. I hold his eye contact this time. His brows soften ever so slightly. It seems to be enough.

Ghost doesn’t say anything. Instead, he simply grabs the chain from my hand. His fingers brush against my palm as he scoops it up. He examines it a moment before slipping it over his neck and tucking it under his shirt.

I don’t know why but I was hoping for a thank you. Or at least an acknowledgment that I’d helped. But Ghost remains silent. At the same time, the voices reach the room. Roach and Gaz round the corner from the hallway.

At their entrance, I turn back to my makeshift bed and pretend to sleep. It’s not that I don’t like them - although I don’t, in fact, I don’t like any of them - but I don’t have the energy for more questions from them tonight.

I hear Ghost shift in his cot and it seems our thoughts are on the same track.

As hard as I try, sleep doesn’t come. They shut off the main lights over an hour ago, yet I still haven’t calmed down enough to drift off. It doesn’t help that I can’t stop shivering from the cold.

The warehouse remains utterly silent except for the light snores and breathing of the men. Only the emergency lights fill the corners of the room with dim, orange light. They’re almost comforting in a way.

I pull the single blanket tighter around my shoulders and ball up even smaller if that’s possible, but nothing helps. My bones shake and my teeth rattle. If only I had another blanket.

The cot next to me creaks as Ghost shifts in his sleep. It creaks some more and then I notice he’s sitting up.

Ghost spares a glance in my direction as he rummages through his pocket for something.

Something silver glints in the light and I realize it’s a key. He wordlessly tosses it in my direction and by some stroke of luck, I catch it mid-air.

It’s the key to the cuffs. I spare an uneasy glance in his direction. He wants me to uncuff myself?

Ghost doesn’t react. Instead, he watches as I process my thoughts, as I push through my weariness and unlock my ankles first before freeing my wrists.

I reach to pass the key back to him but instead of grabbing the key, his large hand wraps completely around my wrist and tugs me in close.

I’m face to face with him as his other hand wraps around my jaw so I can’t pull away.

“If you try to run, I’ll kill you,” his low voice is barely above a whisper. The edge to his tone makes the threat feel all the more real.

“Okay,” I nod in response. My heart is racing and I feel the blood rush to my cheeks.

“Come here. Bring your blanket,” he motions to the cot. I spare a glance at the narrow bed. Surely he doesn’t want to share it with me? There’s barely enough room for one person let alone two.

“I don’t know,” I whisper back as though it’s an option. I don’t know where he’s going with this suggestion and I don’t think I trust him.

“That’s an order, y/n,” his response does nothing to ease my soul, but I grab my blanket anyway and crawl onto the cot.

It’s now he notices my hesitancy. How I purposely leave space between us on the bed. That I’m unsure of why he wants me up here. The fogginess of his intentions.

“I can't sleep with the sound of your teeth rattling in my ears all night,” nothing changes in my expression so he tries again, his tone softer this time. “You’re safe, y/n. I’m safe. Nothing’s going to happen.”

I sigh in relief but don’t say anything in response. He knows.

“C’mere,” he lifts the blanket for me to slide in. The warmth immediately welcomes me into the space.

The cot is more narrow than a twin mattress and leaves little to no wiggle room for two people. I’m pressed tightly into Ghost's chest as his arm wraps around my waist, pulling me closer and preventing me from falling off.

I thought I’d be tense but the heat under the blankets completely relaxes me. I nuzzle my face into the crook of his neck. His balaclava is soft against my cheek. I hear his breathing pick start to pick up. I can feel his chest expand deeper than before.

“Thank you,” my voice is barely audible, but I know he heard.

As I adjust to our proximity, I breathe in the scents that linger on his skin and in his clothes. I can smell the same standard citrusy shampoo on him as myself and the rest of the crew use. But there’s also a remainder of smoke and gunpowder from the day’s work. There’s something else more unique to him and yet I can’t put my finger on it. I take a deep breath and allow myself to revel in the calming smells. This shouldn’t be comforting and yet it is.

Nothing about this situation should be comforting and yet I feel safer than I have in weeks.

Wrapped in Ghost's arms, I know nothing else in the world can get to me. My only danger is the man who holds me. Yet I know in this instance after he’s sacrificed his space and his bed for me, that I’ve got nothing to worry about.

Ghost shifts against the canvas again. This time pulling me on top of him as he spreads out across his cot. He wraps his arms around my back he readjusts for the final time. I feel so small on top of him. Ghost spreads a hand out across my lower back and it feels as though it takes up the entire width of the space. His thumb soothingly brushes back and forth along the arch of my spine.

I lay my head on his chest and listen to the thrum of his heart. It beats strong and steady like a bass drum. I feel myself relaxing even more as my breathing starts to match his. I feel myself start to drift as my head lulls with his chest when it rises and falls.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t worry about what tomorrow brings. I’m so content in his arms that I don’t think about what’s next. All that fills my mind is the strength of his heartbeat and the distant scent of gunpowder. The last thing I think about before finally nodding off is the feeling of his thumb brushing up and down along my back, letting me know everything is going to be alright.

Edit+A/N: I have never received this much attention on a story before so thank you!! When I have time should I write more for Ghost?

Fic based on this concept:

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slytherinslut0 · 1 month

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lorenzo berkshire • run.

summary: how do you define the man who embodies contradiction? a loaded gun wrapped in sunshine, a bloodhound cloaked in golden fur, a cheeky wink masking a deadly glare?

after some pushing, you realize you’ve always known exactly what kind of man Lorenzo Berkshire is. and perhaps, you also realize, he’s the most dangerous kind of all.

word count: 5.9k

warnings: forced proximity trope, SMUT, multiple orgasm, teasing, PIV, fingering, a chase through the forest, jealousy (slight weaponizing of mattheo), established boundaries entirely consensual, dark!enzoberkshire (meh), left the door open for a part two considering i never elaborate on where they’re going.

Lorenzo Berkshire. He is what he is, until he isn't.

Growing up, you always held your perceptions of Berkshire close. A sweet boy with a puppy dog stare, eyes like liquid amber holding the gentle warmth of a summer's dawn. Innocent lad with a cheeky smile that radiated like sunlight on a dew-kissed meadow--simply too damn nice for his own good. A walking ray of sunshine, wouldn't harm a fly with a feather.

He was what he was, until he wasn't.

You're not entirely certain when the switch flipped, when he chose to reveal his true self to the school and no longer cared to conceal it. You suspect it was around fifth year, perhaps during one of the winter months. You recall hearing it before seeing it, albeit faintly—the rush of footsteps, the sound of flesh meeting stone, the sickening thud of fist against face.

And when your eyes finally caught up to your ears, you recall yourself silently thanking the stars for the gracious gift of karma, and you'll never forget the silent exchange you shared with Berkshire as he was finally pulled, nay dragged, up and away from your cheating, scumbag ex.

He is what he is, until he isn't.

From this, the question still stood to linger: what precisely is Lorenzo Berkshire? These days, if anyone is to know, it should be you. You've spent ample time in close quarters with him, enough to dare attempt an answer. Moments etched in memory, his breath warm against your neck, his fingers tracing the contours of your skin, his lips mapping the crease of your thighs; among others. You suspect that, more than anyone else, you could provide a solid insight into the truth of this enigmatic man.

And yet, the answer eludes description.

How does one configure the blueprint of a man who embodies contradiction—a loaded gun wrapped in sunshine, a bloodhound cloaked in golden fur, a cheeky wink masking a deadly glare? He defies categorization, existing at the intersection of light and shadow, warmth and danger, innocence and intensity.

Understanding Lorenzo Berkshire, in his entirety, would mean subjecting yourself to the dualities of his nature—standing in both the path of his aggression and the shelter of his protection. It necessitates penetrating beneath his skin to fathom the intricacies of his design and ascending above to attain a panoramic view.

It entails becoming his adversary before earning the privilege of his friendship, which is precisely where you falter—because how do you become an enemy to a man who's already been silently protecting you for years? Who not only touches but worships you with reverence? Who smiles like sin as he kneels before your altar? Who, despite any provocation that may test his patience, has never and would never suggest severing ties?

Perhaps, you decide, the closest you can get is by first figuring out how to get under his skin.

——

"Enz," the word's a hiss, slipping through breathless cords. "You're moving too fast."

Enzo's response is terse, a nod accompanied by a faint smirk that dances across his lips before he continues on, unabated.

"Noted." The word carries zero sincerity.

You fight a groan, frustration simmering beneath your skin. Yes, you anticipated his lacklustre response, yet it did little to quell the mounting annoyance within you, creeping toward heights of Everest.

"Enz--where are we even going?"

It's pathetic really, your vocal inflection. A half-assed plea for a response you know you won't receive. He must detect it too, for all he offers in acknowledgment is a dry chuckle, effortlessly shoving a branch aside as he ducks beneath it. You groan, audibly this time, the chill wind cutting through you like a knife.

"Enzo," you beseech him, again, your voice a breeze lost in the vastness of the night, "please just slow your pace...talk to m-"

With clear reluctance Enzo pauses, abruptly, as though someone poured cement into his shoes. He casts a glance over his shoulder at you, his gaze piercing through the darkness like a beacon--brief and pulsing. You hardly have time to meet his eyes before he's moving again.

"We can't afford to slow down," is all he offers as he resumes his long strides. "Not now."

The urge to strangle him swells within you like a tidal wave, threatening to engulf your sanity whole. How you curse the moment you offered to accompany him on this perilous journey. How you yearn to be back in the safety of your bed, cocooned in the warmth of the castle walls, far from the chaos that ensues when you entangle yourself with Slytherin boys and their penchant for trouble. Yet here you are, a prisoner of your own folly. By this point you're certain you'll never learn.

You huff your frustration. "Gods, Enzo."

Without giving him time to deflect, you quicken your steps and reach out, grasping his wrist, instantly acknowledging the tension in his skin beneath your touch. Then, in an instant, two eyes the colour of burnt honey pivot to lock onto yours, and you see it--that ferocity. Bees buzzing with anger at the sight of their spoil. It's there. It's always there.

He is what he is--

"We've been walking for fucking ever." As you exhale, the air swallows your breath. "I'm not going to help you if you won't reason with me. If you don't tell me where the hell we're going."

"Your word was given, angel," it's short, cautiously curt, but it's enough. His tone a velvet glove masking the steel beneath. "Wasn't it?"

"My word was given, but it was also contingent on trust." You survey your surroundings. Trees, bush, and Merlin knows what else. Your shoulders slouch. "And right now, that's in short supply."

He blinks, eyes floating up and over your head, a glimpse as fleeting as twilight, before returning to meet your own. You see it again, swirling in his irises, though it's softened slightly by something you perceive as guilt. The winds howl, sucking air thin as the tension thickens, congealing in your throat.

"You know I'd never endanger you."

--until he isn't.

There's a waver in your gaze, torn between the desire to hold his sight and the temptation to descend on his lips. You don't miss the purity in his tone, a sweetness that saturates the honey in his eyes and leaves nothing but pure sugar lingering on your tongue. So saccharine it makes your teeth ache, yet you find yourself craving more.

At any other moment, you'd believe him. Now, far within the depths of the forbidden forest, the circumstances allude it.

"You doubt me," his voice cuts through the silence like a blade through silk. He couldn't miss your hesitation in a dream. You feel his skin turn to ice beneath your touch. "Since when?"

Doubting Enzo feels foreign, a betrayal of self. It's no secret that the man is troublesome, usually up to no good--but you've always known, even as his teeth graze your pulse and his hands encircle your throat, that the last thing he'd ever do is hurt you. This isn't your character. Tonight's different, and you know he senses it.

"Since you started coming out here in the middle of the night," your voice is a whisper, releasing his wrist before you could feel the inevitable leap of his pulse. "Since I had to bribe Mattheo with damn near half my worth to get him to tell me why."

One thing for certain about Lorenzo Berkshire, it's that he should come with a warning. A word of advice not to be deceived by his soft appearance. All puppy cuddles with sharply fangs oozing venom. A caution to approach with the wariness reserved for handling hazardous materials. An infomercial on how his embrace is as deceiving as it is lethal, a trap set with a smile and an eager wag of the tail.

Except, now, there was no smile. No wag. Just the trap.

"You bribed Mattheo." He repeated, his voice a low rumble like distant thunder, entirely disregarding the beginning portion of your statement. "And just what exactly did you have to offer to loosen his tongue?"

A lightbulb burst to life in your brain. A waking sun. A brazen flame. The answer, so glaringly obvious in retrospect, had been within reach all along. What rouses a dormant dragon from slumber? What pokes a sleeping bear to wake? It is the threat to their belongings—the primal instinct to protect what is theirs at all costs. To perceive any potential threat and squash it at it source.

This was your moment.

You could insinuate that you tempted Mattheo with your own tongue in exchange, perhaps alongside the opportunity to mark your knees with bruises. You could say you offered your body, your dignity, anything that might garner a reaction. Of course, the truth was far more mundane; it only took a meagre 30 galleons and a pinky promise to loosen Mattheo's lips. And he didn't even tell you anything worth knowing.

But if you aimed to stoke the fires of Lorenzo Berkshire's wrath and draw his fury upon yourself, this appeared to be the sole route remaining. For throughout all the years of knowing him, the one consistent trigger that never failed to ignite his fury was any hint of a threat...against you.

But before you could comprehend the lapse in your response, Enzo stepped closer, your name hissed through clenched teeth. "What'd you give him?"

Your heart thrashed like a caged animal. The wind billowing through the depleted space between your bodies, tousling his hair in the night. Did the forest always sound like this? Didn't he just say you couldn't afford to slow down?

Your gaze meets the air over his shoulder. "You're deflecting my question."

"And you, mine," another step forward, and you take one back. You can't help but notice his fingers twitch at his sides. "Why?"

Have you added astuteness to your Enzo observation list? If not, it must be at the top. He's always been a master at unmasking your bluffs with a single, cutting retort, dripping from the teeth with condescension.

Your eye twitches. "You're just full of questions tonight, aren't you?"

He doesn't find your deflection half as amusing as you do. "Only because I'm being met with evasive answers.”

"Huh." You cock an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. "Nosey and entitled."

"Hm," he cracks a grin at that. Purely to spite you, you're sure. Purely to make your pulse skyrocket. "I prefer curious and expectant."

"Quite a pair of traits." Tension thickens in your throat. You force yourself to swallow it. "You know what they say about curiosity, don't you?"

His grin widens. "I'm certain you'll enlighten me."

You peer at him, your eyes searching for warmth in the dim of the forest but finding none, like bees seeking nectar in barren fields. You square your shoulders, trying your damnedest to ignore the distant howling sounds coming from the forests depths.

"It's a tale as old as time, Enz, I'm sure you've heard it." A branch snaps underfoot, the sound jolting you back to reality, but you swallow the instinctual yelp that threatens to escape your lips. "Curiosity killed the cat."

Before you can even process it, Enzo moves with lightning speed, seizing your wrist just as you reel from the inevitable impact of your back colliding with an ancient oak behind you. Pulling you into him, his face moves dangerously close to yours, your eyes converging, honey pouring over your skin, sucking you in like quicksand.

"You know there's another part to it, don't you?" his voice cuts through the air like a dagger, sharp and precise. He waits for you to settle before he continues. "Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back."

That bastard.

"It doesn't matter what I gave him," you force yourself out of hesitation, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart, the tingling sting on your spine. "I'm still here with you, aren't I?"

His silence is telling. Bottomless pits pin you down, an anvil in influence alone.

And then he breaks it. "It matters to me."

"Why?" you press, your curiosity piqued by his insistence. You're trying to drag this on for as long as you can but his intensity has you stumbling. Words flow like water. "Who cares, really? I mean-"

"Because," he slices your sentence in two. The latter dying from lack of purpose.

Your lips thin to a pursed line. You blink up at him through lidded eyes, mouth opening to speak but nothing comes out as he leans in closer, so close you can practically taste his breath. He'd never been possessive before, not like this. But perhaps you never gave him a reason to be. You've always been his, unquestioned, unsanctioned. Despite the lack of title. You know he’s only acting this way because you’re deflecting. Your heart barrels into your throat, desperate to claw its way out.

"Because I said so," he continues, his grip on your wrist tightening with each passing moment, his nails leaving indentations in the bark beside your head. "Because, whatever dept you owe him, I'll help you absolve it. Professionally."

A sickening grin creeps across your lips, and his eyes are glued to it. You're skinned raw under his gaze, his pupils so piercing you feel them in the marrow of your bones. You observe the subtle flicker of his tongue, moistening his lips as he gleams down at you--your saviour from above, your dormant dragon, your slumbering bear.

He is what he is.

"I don't need your saving, Enzo," your voice is a breath, as soft as a phoenix feather. As flaming as one too. "I need your honesty."

"My honesty." He repeats as he leans in closer, his hand shifting to gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You shudder under his possession, his lips grazing against your jaw like fire and ice, simultaneously scorching and soothing. "I'll give you my honesty, angel."

You sigh as you hear the unctuous in that tone. You know he isn't going to give you what you're asking for, but he'll give you enough to quench your thirst. Classic fucking Berkshire. He releases his grip on your wrist, replacing it with a firm hold on your hip, anchoring you to reality.

"My honesty is I knew you'd try to come tonight, and I only let you because at least here, at my side, I can protect you." Warm lips brush feather-light against your lobe. "My honesty, is if Riddle puts a fucking hand on you, we're going to have a problem."

As the last few words spill from his lips, you feel as though you've got a sugar high, his words oozing with saccharine sweetness, like indulging in a bowl of chocolates or sipping from a concentrated cauldron of peach juice. They have a cloying effect, threatening to rot your teeth and stain your tongue. Just like his eyes.

And it's right then, that you come to a startling realization. You've always known exactly what kind of man Lorenzo Berkshire is. He's not one to overwhelm with his presence, but rather a relentless force, a perpetual energy that never fades. A silent protector, yet also a silent aggressor. He's a master of masking his anger, of controlling it with a precision that borders on chilling, only bringing it out to protect what's his.

Perhaps, you realize, he's the most dangerous kind of man of all.

"Always acting as my shield," you can barely get the words out, your voice soft and reverent, as though speaking in prayer. "My silent knight."

"Mm." Enzo's lips curve into a sardonic smile against your temple. "Only fitting for an angel."

His hands roam up your hips with a possessive urgency, pulling you closer to him until there's barely an inch of space between your bodies. His face buries into your hair, his breath stirring the strands as he holds you close, fingers digging into your waist.

"I know you didn't offer him what's mine," it's not a question, but a statement of absolute conviction, spoken with the confidence of a seer who reads the future unraveling before them. "I know I fuck you too good for that."

"You're right, Enz," you concede, lids fluttering shut, folding faster than a lawn chair in tornado season. How could you not, when he's exerting this kind of influence over you? "I didn't."

You still had no idea why the two of you were out here. And at this point, it was hardly an afterthought.

"Then what's your play here, angel," he growls through a groan, a ferocious intensity ignited in the way he's squeezing you, pressing your hips back against the tree. "What the fuck are you trying to do to me."

Your lips part, poised to release the words swirling within your mind, when a sound pricks your ears. Not a sound of your own making. Something distant, yet distinct.

In an instant, your eyes snap open, but the darkness shrouds any clear view, offering only faint glimpses of looming branches and rustling leaves. Enzo remains oblivious, seemingly consumed by the frustrated desire you've so eagerly drawn from him.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders, a futile attempt to push him back. "Enzo—"

"Are you trying to test me, angel?" Deep as the forest depths. As dark as them, too. His hands leave your hips and find your wrists, pinning them back against the bark above your head. "Make me jealous, yeah?"

There's another sound, now, drawing closer. You blink up at the complicated man before you, fluttering eyelashes fanning the crease of your lid. Bark burns into your skin as his intensity increases, body sweating under the heat of his eyes as they drip down at you, fever rising by the second— fear and arousal mingling as one.

"Enz-" you hardly have time to breathe before his lips are on your neck, and he's sucking. Hard. "Fuck."

Adrenaline surges you, rushing your lungs with rapid breath, sparks of lust snapping over your skin. Enzo has vanished, replaced by a storm cloud brewing with ominous intent, his once collected demeanour now a loaded gun with a cocked trigger. He was primed to annihilate, eager to erupt. You cursed yourself for pushing him to this brink, at this precise moment, as an impending threat loomed closer with unmistakable certainty.

A gasp escaped your lips as Enzo's teeth sank into your neck, branding you with purple pleasured marks of his possession.

"Enzo, damn it-" your voice is ragged, his lips trailing to the other side of your throat, the hold on your wrist growing tighter. You had to warn him. You didn't want him to stop. Your thoughts jumbled, your brain grappling with what to articulate first, settling on the throbbing pain in your wrists. "Gentle—"

Enzo groans against your neck, rolling his hips into you, fucking fire over every available expanse of flesh.

"Gentle." His breath tickles your neck, your thighs trembling, seeking friction as your hips move in rhythm with his. "I'll fuck you right here against this tree and the last fucking thing I'll be is gentle." A plea balloons in you, knocking teeth, choking. He senses it--a grin crawling across his lips in response. "That's what you wanted after all, isn't it angel?"

Nothing could stop the moan from fleeing your lips as he smirks against your pulse. Not even Merlin himself. Gripping the back of your head, Enzo crashes his lips to yours--hurried and unrelenting, the plush entirety soft and sweet and insatiable against your own. As quick as a lightening strike, you're drowning in his sugar, another realization settling on you like an encroaching dawn just how much of a taste you've developed for it. For him.

Then, he pulls away, breathing a command against your lips. "Run."

Your gut bottoms out--fear instantly drawn to the forefront of your ignorantly blissed brain--and before you can catch your breath or summon your stamina or attempt to direct some blood flow from your cunt back up to your head he's already propelling you forward, dragging you through the forest with a grip that could crush steel. Roots and branches blur past, the forest a chaotic whirlwind of greens and browns below your feet.

And it feels like hours, perhaps even years of running and dodging before Enzo finally slows his pace. You're both panting, gasping, chests heaving, but his urgency perseveres, gaze scanning the clearing as if in search of something, and then you see it, too—an old greenhouse tucked behind a few large trees, clearly abandoned.

Before you can process it, he's already on the move again, dragging you toward it.

He whips open the door and practically hurls you inside—the aged wood creaking on rusty hinges as it swings wide. His eyes, sharp as flint, dart back to survey the clearing you just fled from, and whatever he sees there seems to set his nerves on edge because before you can even blink he's striding toward you, his grip resuming its vice around your wrist as he pulls you toward a small supply closet.

You feel like a ragdoll. It's starting to get real fucking old. "Enzo-"

The words dissolve on your tongue when in an instant you find yourself inside the minuscule expanse of the closet, shelves stacked with gardening supplies, Enzo's breath pouring over the back of your neck, his body so fucking close to yours you can't take a breath without touching him. Reaching over you, he shuts the door and locks the two of you inside, engulfing you in a darkness so thick you can almost feel it clinging to your skin.

Then, there's silence, and suddenly you're aware of every inch of your existence, from the breath leaving your lungs to the sweat crawling behind your knees. Enzo shifts, as if uncomfortable, his crotch pressed firm against your ass and you can almost taste the intensity radiating from his eyes as his hands grip your waist, pulling you back against him with a force that makes breathing normally a distant dream.

"Poachers." He mutters against your neck.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you process his words, the gravity of the situation settling over you like a suffocating blanket. Poachers. You try to steady your breathing, but it's like trying to contain a storm within a teacup.

Your throats arid. "What do we do?"

You shift to adjust your stance, the sensation of Enzo's erratic exhales against your neck making your entire body tingle--and at your movements, he huffs, his grip on your waist tightening, his fingers pressing into your skin with an urgency that matches the pounding of your heart.

"We wait." He murmurs, his voice rough, like gravel underfoot. "Stop moving."

You need to shut up, but you can't. "And if they come in here? If they find u-"

Enzo's hand clamps over your mouth, silencing your words with a firm yet gentle grip, embodying the duality of his character. Strong yet soft. Cold yet warm. Your pulse quickens, your body reacting instinctively to his touch. Only Lorenzo Berkshire could evoke such contradictory sensations, stirring arousal in the face of danger.

"Shh," he cooes against your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Trust me."

Lungs hitching, you nod, though the gesture is barely perceptible beneath his palm. He doesn't free your mouth, however, instead choosing to tease your earlobe with his teeth, his free hand on your abdomen, holding you tight against him.

"You can do that, right, angel?" his tone as soft as feathers, a gentle coaxing that wraps around you like a warm blanket. "You trust me."

There's that inflection again. As right as rain. You know he's fully fucking aware that the way he's speaking to you is calming you down, just as he knows you trust him implicitly. You wouldn't have been out here in the first place if you didn't.

And just as you go to nod, to give him the best answer you can provide to his non-question, his lips descend, claiming your pulse, his grip over your mouth intensifying as he attacks it--slow and silent and determined, your back arching and your lids fluttering in response.

"Mhm, you know I've got you," his free hand trails up your stomach, slowing just as his thumb reaches the underwire of your bra. "Always have."

In defiance of your good judgment, you clench, a shiver of longing fluttering over you. You groan against his hand, his growing desire pushing against your ass as evident and desperate as his movements. Darkness cloaks the closet, stealing your sense of sight yet all the others are overwhelmed by him. He's all-consuming, everywhere, everything—

"But this," five poised fingers start to glide down your stomach, his lips shifting back to your ear. "Is what you get for testing me."

Your skin jumps at the caress of his fingers tracing deceptively timid over your hips, thighs, like he hasn't done this before, like it's care and not punishment. His favourite oxymoron: the gentlest torture, the cruelest succour. You shudder, arching into him, searching for friction, and he tsks you, shaking his head.

"You wanted gentle, didn't you, angel?" The tease in his tone makes you want to choke him. Sort of makes you want him to choke you, too. "Consider this my version of it. Be good."

His fingers slither under the band of your leggings, a slow, torturous crawl toward the epicenter of your longing. Your hands grasp for purchase in the darkness, but there's nothing substantial to hold onto, just like the ephemeral sensation of his touch. He's both intimidating and unnervingly gentle, leading you to the brink of ruin with calculated precision.

You whimper under his palm, hips jerking toward his touch, desperate for more, but it only causes him to go slower. He coos another command to be quiet, a teasing taunt dripping with wicked delight, and you can practically feel the satisfaction pouring from his lips. He's laser-focused on unraveling you, on making you utterly undone before giving you what you crave most.

When his index finger grazes over your clit, you audibly groan, head falling back against his shoulder.

"You can't rush penance, angel," his mouth opens in a smile against your ear, though it feels more like barred teeth. That smile is as much deadly as it is pretty. "Let it simmer."

Every nerve in your body is on high alert, trembling with the intensity of his touch. You're swallowing air with a moan stuck in your throat; too dry, you realize, and feel like you're choking when he starts to move lower, two fingers shifting your panties to the side and slicking through your folds.

"So wet." He's barely audible now, even as he's breathing the words into your eardrums. "Mm, so fucking wet."

Before you can prepare for it, those same two fingers inch inside you, and curl. Your eyes roll, his palm pulling your head back tight against his shoulder as he slowly finger fucks deep into you--in and out in perfect rhythm, the sloppy sounds emanating from your cunt filling the dark, steaming space and making your skin prickle with hot shame—you're fucking dripping for him.

He growls, low in his chest, and instinctively your legs spread wider, inviting him deeper, inviting him to inebriate you further. You're caught in the perfect balance of his contradiction, teetering on the edge between disciple and devil. He worships you in one breath and ruins you in the next. A wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Mine." Is all he mutters, before there's a sound outside the door, and you both freeze.

Footsteps.

Almost immediately, you're ripped from the derogatory haze you'd just found yourself in—your body stiffens, tension coiling through your limbs like icy tendrils, turning your blood to frost. Enzo's fingers slow, though they remain inside you, adjusting ever-so-slightly to avoid the slick sounds your cunt makes every time he moves. You feel his teeth tease your ear, his silent way of telling you to calm down. That he's got you.

The footsteps draw closer, and there's no mistaking it—someone, most definitely multiple someone's, are lurking just outside the door—in search, of you.

But before you can even entertain the thought, before it has a chance to sink in and settle in the recesses of your mind, Enzo crooks his fingers against a spot that sends sparks flying behind your eyelids, his thumb applying just enough pressure to your clit to send you hurtling into a realm of sensation he introduces you to regularly, but not one you were prepared to face in this moment, under these circumstances.

You grit your teeth, the urge to scream clawing at the back of your throat like a caged animal desperate for freedom. Enzo is ruthless, merciless, driving you to the very edge and daring you to jump--driving you to the edge of sanity and forcing you to suppress the tidal wave of pleasure threatening to consume you whole.

The footsteps grow louder, veer closer, before they slow. Before they stop.

It's cataclysmic, catastrophic—a blaze raging in an open battlefield, a hellfire during open warfare. You hardly have a second to comprehend the sheer insanity of what you're engaged in before Enzo's pace intensifies and he yanks your head back against his shoulder with even more force, to the point you're certain the back of your skull will leave an indent on his skin.

His lips brush against your ear, practically daring you to cum— daring you to keep resisting.

"It's clear," a voice rings out, neither yours nor Enzo's. Footsteps pick back up and draw further away. "Let's move out."

And then, it's over. A weight lifts off your shoulders, a tidal wave crashing over you. Your body erupts, convulses, squeezing around Enzo's fingers and trembling against him as your climax charges through you like a raging bull, unstoppable and overwhelming.

You scream behind his palm, knees threatening to give out from under you, the gates of heaven themselves coming into clear fucking view.

"Good girl." He husks in your ear, working you through your high, his chest rising and falling against your back, the hunger evident in his words. "My little angel was so fucking good...I think she deserves a reward, doesn't she?"

You nod, the fervent desire for more evident in the desperate plea that crawls past your lips, only to be muffled by his palm. Enzo's groan reverberates against your ear, his erection painfully hard against your ass. With a swift motion, he withdraws his hand from your lips, unlocking the door and shoving it open, propelling you forward with a commanding grip on your hips.

He wastes no time in pushing you up against an old wooden table, the rough surface biting into your skin as he yanks your leggings down your thighs. His hand finds its way into your hair, gripping a fistful and pulling your head back toward his mouth, his lips hungry and insistent against your own. Meanwhile, his free hand works quickly to undo his belt, his urgency evident as he prepares to take what he desires.

"Did you like that, angel?" He breathes against your panting mouth, his eyes barely open, his belt hitting the ground at his feet. "You like what I fucking did to you?"

"Yes—" you're choked by a gasp as he slicks his length between your thighs. "Gods-fuck, yes!"

"Yeah, you did. Fuck, I should have edged you, I shouldn't have let you cum," his voice is wanton, despite himself. You're not even sure if he knows what he's saying. "But I can't fucking help myself. I fucking love ruining you."

He positions himself at your entrance, the tension in the air thick as molasses. With a single swift motion, he plunges into you, a symphony of pleasure and pain ripping through you as he fills you completely in one long, deep thrust. You gasp, your nails digging into the wooden surface beneath you as his grip in your hair tightens, the other latched onto your hip to hold you steady.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groans, breath hot on your jawline. His hand shifts to grasp your jaw, pulling your lips back to his. "Always so fucking tight for me."

You can only whimper in response, his pace ruthless, and unhinged and unpredictable as always. His fervour is all the reminder of how you got here in the first place; the teeth, the force, the grip on your waist. There's a rough sound he makes in your mouth that you taste more than you hear.

He is what he is, until he isn't. Until he's someone else completely.

You're clutching at the desk and screaming into his mouth as his fingers find your clit again and amidst the onslaught you're hit by the realization that this man is everything—simultaneously overwhelming and subtle, too much yet not enough. He's a feeling that engulfs you, swallowing you whole until it fills your lungs, leaving you choking on the intensity of it all. Your lips move against his in perfect synchrony, your eyelashes fluttering with each powerful smack of his hips as he drives himself deep inside you, over and over and over again.

"Enz—" you sob through the kiss but he doesn't give you enough air to do it.

He pushes harder, a rasp at the back of his throat, some carnal thing. When he withdraws his lips from yours, his brows are furrowed in concentration. There's a fine lustre of sweat on his forehead, stray strands pulled across gleaming honeyed eyes.

"Cum," you swear it's a plea. You hear the desperation as much as you feel it. "Cum for me."

Your head lulls back as shocks of pleasure course through your body, the coil snapped, addled through the ecstasy, barely conscious of the way his panted breaths hitch at the sight of you in his hands, soft-eyed and puddled for him, broken by his touch, stripped of all structure just to be held up by his own. The sight and feel of you erupting sends him over the edge, his groan rumbling against your temple.

"Fucking hell—" his hips stutter, his breath does too, his lashes fanning as he pours his cum deep inside you. "Fuck."

You sink against him as he finally comes to a slow, thighs numb and wet, one hand slipping dumbly from the desk and running up through your hair, pushing sticky strands back from your forehead. The second orgasm is an aftershock of the first, it takes forever to recover from it, and before you can even register the movements Enzo has already pulled out, done up his pants and is helping you pull yours back up your still-trembling thighs.

As you turn to face him, he pulls you in. You kiss lazily and softly. The room feels sheeted in static. The electricity lingers on both of you.

When he pulls back, you let the first thing in your mind slip past your teeth. "You're unbelievable, Enzo."

He smirks, wetting his lips before leaning down and planting a small peck on the top of your head. "I'm yours, angel."

Lorenzo Berkshire is what he is, and what he is, is yours.

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omgeto · 10 months

Text

☆ POSITIVE — baby daddy! GOJO SATORU

synopsis: after an unplanned one-night stand with a guy you didn't particularly care for, your lives takes an unexpected turn as you face the consequences of your actions. // angst to fluff, gojo being the best guy ever.

"are you gonna keep it?" he asks, his voice wavering. he rubs his hands against his face as though hoping the gesture might erase the weight of the words he’s just uttered.

when you had sex with gojo satoru, a single night filled with desperation and loneliness, you never thought you’d end up here — perched on the edge of his bathtub with a positive pregnancy test in hand.

“i don’t know,” you mumble, focused on the word ‘positive,’ staring back at you, “this wasn’t what i thought i’d be doing on a monday night.”

his question hangs between you like a loaded gun, ready to fire off an argument you both know is inevitable. you look up at him, your gaze clashing with his, and the air seems to vibrate with unspoken tension. he stands there, framed by the doorway, his presence a stark reminder of the role he played in this mess.

"i never thought..." you continue, trailing off as the memories of that night replay at the edges of your consciousness. it's as if you're reliving every moment, every decision that has led to this point. you want to scream — to shake him and demand an explanation for how you ended up here.

gojo’s fingers drop from his face, revealing the vulnerability that lingers in his eyes. he steps closer, and his proximity feels suffocating. "we're in this together," he says, his words a contradiction to the distance that has always defined your relationship. "but it doesn't mean we have to agree."

the pregnancy test slips from your grasp, clattering to the floor. the sound echoing, filling the silence of the bathroom. your frustration boils over, and before you can think, the words spill from your lips. "this is your fault, you know. you're the reason we're stuck in this mess."

gojo’s gaze hardens, his brows furrowing in a mix of defence and offence. "my fault?" he scoffs incredulously. "last time I checked, it takes two to fuck. don't act like you didn't have a role in this."

anger courses through your veins, each word exchanged like a blow in an escalating fight. "oh, please. spare me your righteousness. you waltzed into my life, seduced me with your pathetic charm, and now I'm left dealing with the aftermath."

"you think this is what I wanted? you think I planned any of this? don't flatter yourself." his lips curl into a bitter smile, his pride taking a hit. “you were desperate. i was bored. and now we have a baby on the way.”

the tension in the room is a palpable force, the air thick with accusation and resentment. In this moment, you're not just arguing about the pregnancy — you're clashing over all the unspoken emotions that have festered between you since that night.

you both sigh, knowing that arguing wouldn’t detract from the fact that was laying on the bathroom floor. gojo joins you on the edge of the bathtub, hesitating before lightly brushing your arm with his. your eyes meet his and he pauses before saying, “look it’s gonna get us nowhere arguing like this. but despite what’s going on between us, i'm down with whatever you decide.”

“I think… i think i wanna keep it,” you whisper, surprising both yourself and gojo. but a smile etches onto his face, he was never going to force you into a decision but if he could pick – this is the one he wanted.

"you know," he begins, his voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of the hushed bathroom, "i never expected any of this. but... i won't deny that a part of me is... excited."

your eyebrows lift in surprise, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. his admission is unexpected, and it sends a surge of warmth through your chest. "excited? seriously?"

gojo's lips quirk into a playful grin, the tension from earlier completely evaporating. "yeah, seriously. I mean, think about it. this might not have been planned, but it's a chance for something new, something unexpected. i think we’ll make good parents.”

he could sense that you were still unsure, but now that you’ve revealed that some part of you wants this, he was determined to make you keep those thoughts. “like i said earlier, we’re in this together,” he says, his voice soft and resolute, “no matter what happens, we’ll face it together.”

“thank you.” a genuine smile graces your lips. maybe the circumstances are far from ideal, but there's something undeniably comforting in the way he's willing to stand by your side.

gojo squeezes your hand gently, his excitement still evident in his eyes. "no need to thank me. just promise me that, whatever happens, you'll let me be a part of it." his earnestness touches you in a way you hadn't anticipated. the future is still uncertain, but in this moment, you know that he wants this.

"i promise," you reply, your voice steady and filled with a newfound determination.

"can i?" gojo asks, his eyes flickering with a mix of excitement and uncertainty. his gaze shifts from your eyes to your stomach, his hands poised as if awaiting permission.

you chuckle softly at his eagerness, a small smile playing on your lips. "although i'm pregnant, i think at this point what's inside of me is just a blob," you point out, trying to temper his enthusiasm with a dose of reality.

gojo's lips curl into a playful grin, undeterred by your practicality. "yeah, i know, but still…" he trails off, his hands inching closer to your abdomen.

you give him a nod of assent. his touch is surprisingly gentle as his hands settle on your stomach, warm against your skin. it's a simple gesture, but the weight of it is profound — an unspoken acknowledgment of the life growing within you.

for a moment, time seems to stand still as you both share the quiet intimacy of the moment. his eyes remain fixed on your stomach, a mixture of awe and wonder dancing in his eyes. it's as if he's trying to connect with the tiny being that's taking shape inside you.

"can you believe this?" he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of amazement and disbelief. "life, right here."

you look down at your stomach, marvelling at the life that's indeed taking root within you. it's a surreal feeling — one that's difficult to put into words. "yeah, it's pretty incredible."

his touch remains on your stomach, a constant grounding force amidst the rush of emotions that envelops you both."it might be a blob now," he says, his voice soft yet earnest, "but it's our blob."

a laugh bubbles up from within you, a mixture of amusement and affection. "our blob, huh?"

he nods, his expression earnest as he meets your gaze. "yeah, our blob. and who knows? maybe someday, we'll look back on this moment and remember how it all started."the tenderness in his words is palpable, and a warmth blossoms in your chest. despite the uncertainties that lie ahead, there's a shared optimism between you.

as gojo's hands remain on your stomach, you lean in slightly, your head finding the crook of his shoulder. his embrace is reassuring, his touch a steady reminder that, no matter what comes next, you won't be facing it alone.

AN: SO GUYS WHAT DO YOU THINK? LMK UR THOUGHTS. im thinking of making this like a little au, where I just do a series drabbles/one shots of life with your bd!gojo. so if you have any thoughts, ideas, requests send me them. ALSO DONT USE MY DIVIDERS PLS AND THANKS <3 also thanks @kazushawty for the beta read love ya.

#stampedwithanE★#jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #jjk angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #jjk x you #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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howtofightwrite · 18 days

Note

Most traditional boxing instructors will tell you that if the opponent is taller than you, has longer arms than you, or is heavier than you, you're fucked and you need to stay extremely aware and work really hard to compensate for all the advantage he has over you.

In a recent forensic survey, it was determined that most traditional boxing instructors who get into real world altercations die when they're shot in the head.

This is the problem with a lot of these kinds of arguments. No one practices traditional boxing. At least, no one does so publicly. How do I know this? Because traditionally boxers fought in the nude. Yeah, we're not seeing that, are we? Now, maybe they meant bare knuckle boxing, but really no one does that either, these days. Boxing without safety equipment is not a particularly good idea, for fairly obvious reasons.

The only reason the word, “traditional,” is in the ask is to lend their statement unearned credibility. It's an attempt to make their statement sound more authoritative, without offering any evidence to support the statement.

Who said that?

“Traditional people did.”

Okay, but, 'traditionally,' people cleaned shit off their ass with a stick. So, maybe appealing to Hellenic sports isn't the best gauge of how a fight will play out.

Also, I know I just said it, but, who are these authoritative sports guys? Because they're not named. We're simply told, “most,” of them agree. Which starts to sound a lot like “four out of five dentists agree.” Who are these instructors? What do they teach? Why are the currently in prison for indecent exposure? And how much did you pay them to get their uninformed opinion? Salient questions which may need to be answered, if the original question wasn't invalid on its face.

Why do I say it's invalid?

Because boxing isn't fighting.

Boxing is a sport.

Boxing has rules.

Kick your opponent in the groin, or shin, and you're punished.

Step on their foot, push them, and watch them tumble to the ground before you start stomping on them, and you'll be punished.

Throwing your opponent will be punished.

And of course, as mentioned at the top, pulling out a gun and expanding your opponent's mental horizons is extremely frowned upon.

These are all things that can happen in a real fight.

These are all things that do not benefit from increased height or reach.

There is one genuinely accurate statement. In a fight, you do need to be very aware of what's going on around you. Everything else is the product of someone who's been punched in the head repeatedly until the CTEs got them thinking that boxing is analogous to a real fight in any way. (And, statistically, will probably end their career sitting in a jail cell over an aggravated assault charge, because their emotional self-control was completely destroyed by those same head injuries.)

The rules that boxers need to follow are designed to (somewhat) protect the participants. It reduces the dangers of a boxer being killed in the ring. In an observation that I would hope to be self-evident, those rules don't exist in actual combat.

It's also amusing, because the original Asker had to go so far as to single out an ill-defined, “traditional” boxing, because no other martial art they checked gave them the soundbite they wanted.

And, of course, women box. Historically, you could say, “traditionally,” there were even boxing matches between men and women. It wasn't until the 1880s that women were excluded from competitive boxing in the UK. (I'm not sure of the exact date when women were banned from boxing in the US, though that prohibition lasted for less than a century, before the modern return of women to the sport.)

So, either these “traditional instructors” don't know the history of their own sport... which doesn't sound particularly “traditional” to me, or they're full of shit.

My advice to everyone would be, maybe, don't take the advice of a sports coach about how he's secretly an absolute badass in all the delusional fantasies he's cooked up about how he'd like to inflict violence on others because they wouldn't date him.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

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myster-roca · 5 days

Text

The Catfish Incident

"Thanks for the energy drink, man," Jake said, cracking open his can of blue energy soda as we ambled down the dimly lit hallway back to our apartments. The gym members' party had left us both hot and sweaty, and I thought a refreshing drink would be the perfect cap to our evening.

"Yeah, no problem, bro. You owe me one next time!" I replied, although I was thinking something else entirely as I watched him guzzle his beverage.

He was tall, about six feet three inches, with a toned physique that would make anyone envious. His hair, the color of wheat, was slicked back with some kind of product, and he wore a tank top that hugged his chest tightly, emphasizing his broad shoulders and thick arms. His shorts were tight enough to show off his wide hips and well-defined ass.

Standing beside him, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of insecurity. While I was reasonably fit and steadily working towards what I hoped would be my ideal body, Jake's presence ignited a deeper yearning within me. It wasn’t just about having muscular broad shoulders and a confident stride—it was about embodying that effortless aura of masculinity, the kind of identity that defines an alpha male.

"Oh yeah, almost forgot—I need to head back to my apartment now," Jake said abruptly. "I have a little rendezvous tonight," he added, flashing a smile.

"Sounds like a plan. What time is your date?" I asked casually, pausing beside him.

“About an hour from now, so I should probably hit the showers first. Gotta freshen up and work out these guns again,” he laughed. Then, without warning, he raised his left arm above his head and flexed his bicep, staring intently into my eyes. “It’s been too long since they’ve seen any action.”

I felt myself blush uncontrollably at his words, but luckily Jake didn't see it, and he continued heading down the hallway.

"See you tomorrow, Dave!" he called out over his shoulder before disappearing through his apartment door.

Little did he know, I was well aware of who he was meeting tonight.

As I stepped into my apartment, the familiar walls and furnishings offered no comfort to the restless longing stirring within me.

Each well-placed book and neatly aligned chair seemed to echo the structured, unyielding life I had sculpted for myself—a life of discipline as a respected professor, always mindful of reputation and societal expectations.

With a sigh, I removed my glasses and set them aside on the table. The lenses caught the fading light of the day, scattering beams that danced across the blandness of my living space, teasing me with glimpses of brightness in my otherwise predictable world.

This simple act felt like peeling away the layers of a persona crafted over years.

It felt symbolic, like I was discarding a part of myself that was too familiar, too constricted by old fears and inhibitions. Tonight was not a night for the timid David hidden behind those lenses; it was a night for someone entirely new.

I pulled off my tank top, feeling the cool air hit my bare skin, followed by the soft cotton of my white gym shorts. Finally, I slid down my underwear and tossed them aside. I felt incredibly vulnerable, standing there nude with no one else around.

Across the room, my gaze then shifted to the bed, where the realistic bodysuit of a Latino model lay outstretched. The room lighting cast a bright hue over its meticulously detailed surface, accentuating each muscular contour and shadow, making it look almost alive. It wasn’t just a garment; it was a gateway to another existence.

As soon as I saw it, I couldn’t resist touching its smooth skin. I ran my fingers over its chest and arms, feeling the softness of its skin. Then I slid my hands down to its waist and squeezed its firm butt cheeks. It even had a built-in penis that was larger than my own, which gave me a sense of excitement.

"Alright," I muttered under my breath, "let’s get started."

I could feel my dick twitch as I reached down and grabbed hold of the slit at the back of the bodysuit. The suit itself was made of a special material that allowed for easy movement and flexibility. Slowly, I began pulling the two sides apart so that there would be enough room for me to get inside.

As I sat down in the chair, I began sliding my right leg into one of the muscular legs. They were tight but not uncomfortable. As I pulled them up over my thigh, I could feel the skin stretching slightly as it moved up my leg. This was going to be so fucking hot!

I continued moving my left leg into the second leg until both feet were on the ground. Next, I positioned my shaft to the built-in dick and slid my arms into the sleeves. My biceps bulged with each movement.

Standing up, I took a few steps forward, feeling the incredible strength of my legs against my skin. I flexed my arm, watching the veins pulsate under the surface. I couldn’t help but smile at my new, sexy body.

Finally, I put on the built-in mask that resembled the handsome face of a Latino model.

As I slid it over my head, I felt the soft material conform to the contours of my face.

Once the mask was fully secured, the ’Heddon’ app on my phone opened up.

In order for the bodysuit to work properly, it needed to be activated. I selected “Start Sealing” and watched as the screen filled with images of the process.

Suddenly, there was a click, and the suit began to seal shut around me. I felt the muscles of my legs begin to tingle as they fused with the suit.

My thighs and calves became more defined as the skin tightened around them. The same sensation spread across my chest and shoulders, making them bulge outward. My arms seemed to grow larger as the suit conformed to my muscles.

Within seconds, the transformation was complete, and the suit fully integrated with my body, leaving no trace of its presence. It was as if I had become one with this sexy, lifelike skin.

With a grin, I stepped towards the mirror, admiring my reflection. The face staring back at me was that of a young, fit Hispanic man with broad shoulders and narrow hips.

“Welcome back,” I whispered to myself as I looked in the mirror at my new reflection. “Diego.”

My jawline was strong and defined, giving me a masculine appearance. I flexed my biceps, showing off the definition in my arms.

I ran my hands over my hard chest, feeling the firmness beneath my fingers. Then, I squeezed my pecs, enjoying the way they rippled beneath my touch.

I let my hands travel down to the bulge between my legs, squeezing it gently. My cock throbbed with excitement as I imagined what it would feel like to fuck someone with this body.

I picked up my phone, opened a dating app and messaged Jake using the Diego profile. We’d chatted a little bit on the app a few weeks earlier, and he seemed really interested in meeting up.

“Hey sexy,” I typed into the chat window. “Want to see some pics?”

“Sure thing, stud,” Jake responded. “Whatcha got?”

I smiled as I sent him a couple of pictures of myself wearing different leather and latex outfits.

“That’s hot,” Jake wrote. “Do you think you can do something even hotter tonight?”

I grinned as I typed back, “Of course, baby. Anything for you.”

****************************************************

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a Reddit thread mentioning "Heddon: House of Transformation" — a service offering realistic bodysuits that promised an entirely new level of personal transformation. Intrigued yet skeptical, I clicked through.

The website was adorned with glossy images of transformations and detailed testimonials from users who spoke of life-altering experiences. Video demos showcased the suits’ incredible realism and functionality, portraying seamless transitions from person to suit.

Admittedly, the site and service were new, which did little to alleviate my skepticism. However, a promotional offer for first-time users—a significant discount on their first order—was enough to tip the scales.

Despite my initial doubts and the nagging thought that it could all be an elaborate scam, I decided to take the plunge with some disposable income I’ve set aside.

I ordered a customized bodysuit modeled after a muscular Latino—a physique and persona so starkly different from my own that it felt like it could only exist in fantasies.

When the package arrived, it included not just the bodysuit but also detailed instructions for using the accompanying "Heddon: House of Transformation" app.

The app, once downloaded, allowed me to control the bodysuit’s features, including the crucial sealing process which would integrate the suit seamlessly with my own body.

When I first donned my new Diego bodysuit a few nights ago, I created a fake profile on the dating app and got tons of messages but one message caught my attention— it was my gym buddy Jake.

“Hi there! You’re so hot and cute!” he wrote.

“Thank you! You’re pretty handsome yourself,” I responded.

We chatted for a bit, discussing our hobbies and interests. I told him that I was looking for someone to share my fetishes with, and that I loved wearing latex.

He responded quickly, saying that he was also interested in exploring his kinks and that he loved wearing leather and latex. Before long, we were messaging each other every night, sharing our deepest desires and fantasies.

A few days later, Jake asked me if I would be willing to come over to his apartment and have some fun. I agreed, excited to finally meet him in person.

“I’m so glad you’re coming over,” he wrote back. “I’ve been dying to meet you in person.”

“Me too,” I replied. “I can’t wait to see you.”

****************************************************

Now, here I am, standing outside Jake’s apartment door, feeling nervous and excited all at once. I knocked on Jake's door and soon heard the sound of footsteps approaching. The door swung open, revealing Jake standing there in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist.

Diego! Come in!” he says, grinning at me. I follow him into the apartment, and he shuts the door behind us.

Jake leans against the door, studying my body. “Wow, you look amazing,” he says. “I never imagined you would actually look like this.”

“Thanks. It feels good to finally be able to meet you in person,” I reply. Jake smiles and directs me toward the living room. I remove my jacket, revealing my tight black muscle shirt and latex pants.

Jake’s eyes widen, and he lets out a low groan. “Damn, you’re fucking hot,” he says, running his hands along my chest. His hand then slides down my chest and over my crotch. “And you’re hard.”

“I am,” I whisper. “You make me feel so horny.”

We sit down on the couch, and Jake pours us some drinks. “So, tell me more about yourself,” he says. “What kind of stuff do you like doing?”

“Well, I love wearing leather and latex,” I say. “And I love playing different characters. Sometimes I dress up as a superhero, sometimes as a villain. It really depends on my mood.”

“That’s cool,” Jake says. “Me too. I love wearing my costumes, especially when I’m out with friends. It helps me let loose and have fun.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” I say. “Sometimes it’s hard to be yourself when you’re around other people, but when you’re in your costume, you can let go and be whoever you want to be.”

“Exactly,” Jake says, smiling. “It’s like a whole new world opens up when you put on a costume.”

Jake leans closer, his eyes locked on mine. “And sometimes, they bring us closer to our true selves than we ever thought possible. Maybe because we feel safe behind the mask, we can express our true feelings.”

The air between us charges with an unspoken understanding. I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest. “Have you ever felt that way? Like you’ve discovered something real about yourself through a character?”

Jake nods slowly, his gaze intensifying. “More often than you might think. Sometimes, it’s only when I'm someone else that I can express what I really feel... what I really want.”

I watch as he removes his towel, revealing his hard cock. I gasp in pleasure as he strokes himself slowly, looking straight into my eyes. The moment hangs heavy between us, laden with unvoiced desires.

Then, impulsively, Jake closes the distance, his lips meeting mine in a passionate kiss that feels like the culmination of our shared revelations. Our tongues dance together, exploring each other's mouths, as I moan softly and my fingers thread through Jake's soft hair.

Jake breaks away from our fervent kiss, leaving me breathless and longing for more. With a sultry grin, he stands up and begins to undress me, one piece at a time.

My excitement grows as he pulls my tight latex shirt over my head, exposing my toned chest and chiseled abs. He trails his fingers down my torso, sending delicious tingles through my entire body.

As Jake continues to undress me, his touch becomes increasingly intimate and sensual. He caresses my skin, grazing his fingertips along my shoulders, arms, and sides. I lean into his touch, letting the warmth of his hands linger on my skin.

Finally, Jake reaches my pants and skillfully slips them down my legs, revealing my matching black briefs. He pauses for a moment, admiring the sight of me in my underwear, before slowly removing them as well. Standing before him completely naked, I feel exposed yet empowered by his admiration.

Jake's eyes sparkle with lust as he looks me up and down. "You're beautiful," he whispers, his voice thick with desire.

My heart races as he bends down to press his lips against my chest, trailing kisses down to my abdomen. His hands explore my body, massaging my muscles and stroking my skin. I close my eyes, surrendering to the waves of pleasure that wash over me.

Just as I start to drift into blissful oblivion, Jake abruptly stops. I open my eyes to find him looking intently into my eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

"What's wrong?" I ask, confused by the sudden pause.

"Come with me," he murmurs. "I have something I want to show you. It’s my private collection."

He then gestured to a door at the end of the hall. My heart pounded in my chest as I followed him into the room.

Entering, I gasped in surprise at the sight. Scattered all over the room were several realistic bodysuits, each one more impressive than the last.

While pretending to be amazed, I wondered if Jake realized I was wearing a fake body.

Jake grinned. "My job has its perks," he explained. "I'm a beta tester for 'Heddon', so I get access to their entire collection."

"This is amazing," I remarked, feigning ignorance. My hands ran over one of the suits. "What are these things and how do they work?"

"Don't pretend you don't know," Jake chuckled. "You may think you're fooling me, but you aren't."

He was right. Staring at him in disbelief, I asked, "What?... what do you mean?"

"It's not a secret," Jake replied. "These suits have a distinct smell, and I've gotten used to it. I know when someone is wearing one."

I sighed, knowing I couldn't deny it any longer. "Okay, fine," I admitted. "You caught me. But please, don't tell anyone else. This is just between us."

"Of course," Jake nodded. "I understand."

He reached out and touched the side of my fake face. "I don't care who you are or what you're doing. I like the idea of someone else being able to take on a new identity for a while."

"Thank you," I said, smiling. "But seriously, why are you showing me all of these suits?"

Jake shrugged. "Since you're wearing one, I thought of wearing one as well," he suggested. "Maybe we can have a little role-play fun."

He then picked up a bodysuit that resembled a tanned male model with long hair. "Do you think this fits the bill?" he asked, holding it up.

I smirked and touched the bodysuit Jake had chosen. "Let's find out, shall we?"

#male body transformation #male transformation #male bodysuit #male disguise #male body suit #male impersonation #male skinsuit #male skin

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ggsbooks123 · 7 months

Text

Memories — part two of memory garden

warning: gets pretty angsty here and character deaths 😓 mentions of suicide (jude bby is guilt ridden)

summary: you don’t know how much longer you can take it. The thoughts eating away at you telling you to kill someone in your heart you knew was pure good… but what happens when the voices turn on you?

a lil disclaimer yall i mixed cressidas name with cresta without thinking and realised half way through… i couldn’t be bothered to go back and fix it so i continued using it 😭 cresta is cressida!

— —

The next morning I woke up to Boggs shaking me and asked me to step outside, the sun was only just making its ascent.

I notice my restraint is off, Boggs must have taken them off before waking me up, I took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure why he had done it, I was in no right mind.

My eyes lifted at the doorway, Peeta was right there… No. I shook my head, following Boggs out the door.

He stood gazing over the destruction of the city, I tightened my fist when the echo of a voice tried to break through. Not now. This was the outcome of war and nothing I did to them now would prevent this. But the voices never agreed.

“Wanted to check how you were feeling after your first night” He explained once I joined him at his side, it was nice that he cared.

I shrug, glancing back over my shoulder “I don’t think it’s a good idea that i’m here, I was getting help back at the district… I don’t know why i’m here” I definitely didnt think it was a good idea, Coin had sent me here knowing i was far from recovery.

“Coin always has a reason” Boggs muttered like he’d been reading my thoughts “I think she has no use for Katniss and Peeta anymore-“ He eyes filled in the blanks his words didn’t…

“She sent me to kill them” I whisper back realisation smacking into, I was a weapon, again. But it wasn’t the capital this time, it was the rebellion.

When will i be free?

The voice sounds almost sad and I realise that it’s not a voice, it’s my own thoughts. My own depressing and given up thoughts.

“She can try and turn you into some psycho killer but the people in that room care about you, even if you don’t see it. So do I, the three of you kids have seen more hell than anyone deserves” Boggs explains, finally turning from the city to face me. “You’re just kids”

I frown, glancing down at my hands. Kids. We weren’t even eighteen years old, it was something that defined so much about someone and id forgotten.

“Thank you” I whisper, movement from inside alerts me and I reach for my gun, what if Peeta took this distraction as an opportunity but then Katniss stepped out, my heart didn’t slow but my hands dropped.

“What’re you doing out here so early?” Katniss asked stepping closer but keeping a respectful distance, my hand clenched.

She’s with Peeta, they will kill us all. The desire to kill Katniss was easier to push down but when it came to Peeta is was a thirst for blood like no other.

I shake my head, not hearing what Boggs responded with.

“How are things?” Boggs doesn’t respond to this question so I glance up and see they both have their attentions on me.

How are things? I wanted to scoff, but I knew that I was an accident waiting to happen, they didn’t know what would set me off. Apparently just saying how are things is one example. I shake my head and I notice the flash of concern.

“I can only get better right?” I spit, I don’t mean for it come out like that but she flinches and Boggs places his hand on her shoulder.

I feel it, my hand moving on its own before my right slapped down on it, instantly both their eyes slammed to me and without further explanation i declare, “We need to put my restraint back on”

And with that Katniss went inside and woke the others and Boggs cuffed me again.

Finnick was the first to step out, alongside a girl with a vines blooming flowers across the left half of her shaved head “Jude, I wanted you to meet Cresta, she’d one of the directors for this whole thing”

I smiled lightly at her, hoping to be polite since she no doubt had to stay up for an hour and watch me last night. “Nice to meet you, are you from the Capitol?”

She nods, “Do I give off that capitol ignorance?” She asked as a joke but in her eyes I could tell she was pleading I said no which made me smile slightly wider. I liked her.

“No, no. I was just asking didn’t mean to hit right on the money” I shrugged, “Maybe after this I could read palms?” I raise an eyebrow at Finnick who seems to just be smiling at me. “What?”

“Nothing, just glad you’re finally started talking about an after this” And with that Cresta and him left me, sending my mind reeling.

After…

— —

The next few days were especially hard, we had to travel a few streets at a time due to these devices called pods, the game makers had created them, no death should be boring apparently.

One of the pods had contained thousands upon thousands of snakes, luckily they seemed to stop at a certain point. Just like in the games except we could activate them from a distance.

Some of the other pods though, made it harder to remember where I was and who my friends are. Boggs had set off the last pod, four explosions had destroyed the road before them and each explosive made unbidden thoughts enter my head.

Now we were slowly making our way through the Capital streets, it seemed bizarre to think that it was once luxury.

“How’re you feeling?” His voice breaks through everything, and my neck snaps to him as I take a step back, bumping into Finnick who seems to have noticed why and is already guiding me to walk again.

Peeta frowns, turning away for a moment before looking back at me “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” Maybe he was trying to be nice, because we both knew it hadn’t been the reason.

“It’s- It’s okay. Really. Just a lot going on, and I think I’m feeling better. The questions that i’m asking help” I respond, trying to stay calm and push the voices away, though they’re not really there at the moment.

He seems to perk at my words before shooting over his shoulder “Ask one now, can’t hurt” I blow a breath, rattling through my brain for anything and then it clicked.

We’re back in the 75th Hunger Games, it’s a couple days in and we look utterly spent, I don’t even look like i’m making my next five steps.

I try to remember when this was, must’ve been right before the arena been destroyed, Peeta and I had run into the Careers and I’d paid with three strikes to my chest, Peeta not much better off.

The thought of the wounds made me reach for my chest, but they were gone. Magically healed by the Capital just to be tortured mentally.

I watch myself trip slightly but Peetas there in an instant, arm looping around my waist, holding me for dear life.

It looked so natural. Right. Together, his eyes never leaving me, concern dripping with every blink.

I hear him whisper like he’s next to me “We’re almost at the beach alright, just a little further” I can feel the desperation in his words, he needed me to make it.

I remember the exhaustion now, the utter fatigue I felt. The thought to close my eyes was over bearing but I couldn’t let Peeta down… win, I couldn’t let him win!

I snap out of the memory, luckily Finnick has my arms in his hands because i’ve stopped again and Peeta is looking at me with concern over his shoulder every few seconds. “Jude?” Finnick whispers and I take deep breath.

“In the last Hunger Games,” I began, trying to sort out the memory, he was saving me or was he the reason I ended up at the Capitol? “You saved me after the Careers attacked us, real or not real”

He frowned at the question, was it concern or hurt in his eyes, I didn’t know because when he blinked it was gone but then he stopped turning to face me. This time Finnick doesn’t push me forwards. He didn’t save you, and now he knows that he can’t get away with his lies anymore. Kill him!

Before I could act on the voices that abruptly awokened he speaks up, “I got you to that beach, then the arena went out and the Capital got you. So yeah, I saved you from the Careers but I couldn’t save you from the Capital and it’ll kill me everyday that you had to go through that and this and I couldn’t do anything”

His voice grew more anguished and devastated with each word and I found tears falling down my own face as he took deep breaths in front of me. The old me would’ve known how much this was eating at him, would’ve helped him but how could I?

I didn’t know me anymore. Or what I could do before I snapped.

I didn’t know what to say so I said “Haymitch told me that I- I told them if it came down to it, to save you” His eyes sharpened on me somehow, “I don’t blame you for what happened in the Capital, I never will. I’m sorry”

The air hung still as Boggs turned to them finally, breaking the moment “Keep up! We haven’t got all day” Peeta sighed, glancing at Boggs before solely landing on me again.

“Real. I saved you from the Careers” I smiled lightly, kill him, I shoved it down not paying any attention to it.

“Thank you” Finally, we began to follow the others down and around another corner. Soon we were arriving at our next pod, this one had a large arch with completely and utterly destroyed walls surrounding it left to right.

More destruction passed as they continued, how long before it’s too much, until the city isn’t even salvageable. Boggs told us to hide behind the walls while he set it off the next pod and then checked for anymore. We did as told, I took position between Finnick and Katniss and two other guys i didn’t know, Peeta and Cresta, Jackson and Pollux on the other side.

I felt anticipation, the voice had free roam when the pods went off. Too much going on at once, I couldn’t control it.

The pod detonation sent my mind spiraling, as I assumed, this one, four guns emerged from the wall and rained bullets into the archway destroying bits of the wall they were behind.

If you killed them their symbol would be gone, who would push that hope and if not for Katniss and Peeta, it would die with them. The voice stronger than it’d been in days.

No! I crouched further agaisnt the wall we’d taken cover behind, I’d been given my blank gun back for the promo but this was all too much, I felt the butt of the gun against my temple as I curled into my self.

I bring my head up and smack it against the gun, get out of my head. Get out. Get out! “My favourite colour is purple, I can’t wear red bows. Peeta saved me. My favourite-“ I repeat the words, whispered and keep bringing the butt of my gun to my temple.

A hand on my shouldern brings me back, at first my eyes catch the utterly devastated ones across from me. Peeta. He looks like he’d burn the world… For me. I break the eye contact quickly and the look in Finnicks eyes said it all. He didn’t have to go through what I had to understand, I didn’t know if I’d be able to do this without him, or Peeta… No matter how much I wanted to kill him sometimes.

Suddenly an explosion going off catches us off guard, did they set off another pod? “Boggs!” Katniss screams break the air, Finnicks hands move under my shoulders and lifts me to my feet, hauling me around the corner.

We both freeze at the sight, easily three of our squad members had been hit by the bomb. But it’s Boggs who lays in Katniss’s arms that makes my stomach drop and I’m almost sure I would have crumbled if not for Finnick. Bogg’s legs were gone, nothing but two stumps and onrushing blood.

Oh god, oh god. I slam my eyes shut and a ringing breaks out in my head. This is my fault, it’s all my fault, I never should have trusted them, Boggs should have never trusted them. The thoughts come harsher than they have in weeks and I can’t break away from them.

Kill them before they kill us all. This one isn’t my voice and I snap my eyes open sure I’d see his old and drawn face in front of me, but he’s not there. Relief fills me, but the twitch in my hand isn’t as my eyes dart to Peeta.

He must’ve been hit by the backlash of the bomb, Jackson was helping him to his feet as Cresta was helping one of the twins, who’d I forgotten were even there amongst all the chaos. His blue eyes darted around until they met mine and then they drifted to my hands.

I was holding my gun… I didn’t remember grabbing it, and it was full of blanks but it could still be a weapon. Kill him, I shake my head taking a step back at the same time I hear a click from afar, my head shoot’s up and I look to see l the other twin had rushed to help the other and had set off another pod.

I flinched ready for another bomb but instead the walls to the archway we just entered and the three others all begin to close, Katniss now standing from Boggs and holding the device he had seems to catch sight before anyone of us and the look of horror on her face is enough “Run!”

An arm grabs me and yanks me forward but my hands tighten on my gun, it was his fault. I can’t shake away these thoughts anymore, not after Boggs.

“Jude, keep it together!” Finnick spoke from beside me but nothing could bring me back, not after everything, everything that he’d done.

I felt my mind unscrewing, going barbaric at the thought of Peeta being so close and safe, he would make it out of this courtyard. And I tried to fight every single part of me that wanted to change that.

I couldn’t… Not after Boggs. You’re just kids, Peeta was a kid that had been the reason of hundreds and thousands of people… He had to die.

The air thrums around us as we rush up the stairs and I take this moment to look over my shoulder, a wave of black liquid lurches towards us and with utmost certainty I don’t want to find out what happens if it reaches me but then my mind flicks.

No consequences, kill him and die knowing you saved innocents. I wanted to shake these thoughts away, Peeta rushing up behind me tells me that he’d probably only run when he realised I was safe but a larger part of me knew he had some hidden agenda to kill me and cause more harm than good.

I had time.

It was the last confirmation I needed, shoving Finnick off me and throwing myself at Peeta, I let one of hands release the gun as I grab for his shoulder but his foot catches something and I only manage to grab his shirt as we go rolling down a few of the steps as he tries to fight off my grip, I hoped I had timed it right.

“Jude! Don’t” He cried out, finally managing to grab my wrist so I raise the gun in the other, “You have to die” I whisper, unsure why I needed to say it before I bring down the gun and finally, finally-

I’m shoved, NO. Snow’s voice screams in my head and I let out a cry, the yell breaks my skull open and I feel every ounce of rage pouring from the word.

His anger becomes my own and fuels me as I jump up from the ground and grapple the man from our squad who had ruined ruined ruined everything.

I knew it was wrong, some part of me as my ears rang and my mind exploded, but I couldn’t stop stop stop. The liquid rushed behind the man in my arms now, we’d spun, had I done that? Before my foot lifted and connected with his middle and I sent him into the abyss of oil.

Then it was all gone, the ringing, the voices and my mind was clear. I just killed a man. Someone must have grabbed me because i’m moving but I don’t feel it and I don’t care I’d killed someone, killed killed killed.

I feel the tears now as a door slams shut behind me and I hauled up my stairs, these are wooden not stone. The voices come back but they are no longer on my side. And it’s my own voice.

You killed an innocent. You need to die, you’re a danger. And I agree, I scream and scream that I want nothing more than to be dead and I must’ve actually been screaming because soon all I see is the same abyss I had forsaken another to.

— —

An explosion wakes me up and proceeds to remind me of everything that had happened before I succumbed to the darkness, I took in my surrounding the only light coming from the curtained window that Katniss and Gale were peering out of.

Whatever had just happened outside had affected Katniss more than Gale, and as I shift my position to get a better look but it’s useless, Gale lets the blinds close.

I let my eyes dance around the room, there’s more people in our group than I had realised, two men sat together checking the other for injuries, another man I seen but still didn’t know the name of stood with Cresta while Finnick and Peeta sat watching the window that Katniss and Gale were at. Jackson was no where in sight, I didn’t want to see her anyways, the guilt would twist even further. The twins… gone.

I swallow the sickness I feel, I had been so crazed I hadn’t taken the time to even get to know them.

All of the squad was far from me, I realised I was placed on stairs and the rail along it is what my hands are cuffed to.

Now you can’t hurt anyone. That hadn’t changed, no longer would I fight the urge to kill Peeta, somehow my wish of not killing him had been granted. Now I had to try not to kill myself, though that statement was half hearted.

Suddenly the familiar ring of the Capitals announcement played and my veins grew cold until one of the squad members spoke up “All the tvs in Panem are connected to the announcements, if the powers on then the shows running”

I rolled my eyes, the power that they could flush into abandoned apartments was incredible when some districts could barely keep the lights on for an hour or half.

The anthem continued, causing me to close my eyes but that only let the voices free reign in the darkness.

You could’ve been helping them stop this instead you let the Capital control you. I grit my teeth together not being able to take in what was happening on screen from the inner battle I was having with my own thoughts. You nearly killed Peeta and you were proud of it.

I nearly threw up.

My skin was on fire, pure and unadultered disgust and shame with myself, how could I have not realised that killing Peeta was the worst possible thing I could do, I would be nothing. Nothing, there was no way to put into words what would happen if he died.

And by my own hand, I closed my eyes. No. Never again would I let them win, hurt him. Never. I’d kill myself before I ever did something like that again… If I was even given the chance of redemption after what I did.

I open my eyes as I hear my name mentioned and see that the Capital is replaying everything that’s been haunting me since i woke up.

I watch the black oil like substance hurtle it’s way towards us, and I see it clearly now, Peetas eyes are on me waiting until I’m safe and clear before he runs after me and in that split second decision i’ve made one aswell.

Watching it on the screen was horrifying, my arm reaching for his throat but finding his shirt instead, us rolling together and still the look of murder on my face, so twisted it doesn’t even look like me before Mitch yanked me off and I thanked him by kicking him into the pod trap.

His scream echoed through the screen and I flinched, I’d been so full of rage and out of it I hadn’t heard it or seen as a metal cage lined with spikes shot from the oil, encasing the now dead Mitch.

I close my eyes unable to watch the rest. Monster, monster, monster. My voice spits over and over again, these I can’t shut out. It’s simply my thoughts the more I push it triples.

“Well, what’s next?” Jackson asked out of sight, I glanced around the room yet none of them seemed to look at me. I understood why they wouldn’t, some of them knew Mitch.

I killed their friend. Yet no one responded.

Was it not obvious? “I- I killed him” I whispered, all of their heads snapped like my voice was the last they expected “You should either leave me here or put a bullet in my head so no one else dies”

In the corner of my eye I see a hint of blonde flinch at my words, but I’d nearly killed him if it wasn’t for Mitch… Now he was dead, I didn’t get to live. “It’s the only reasonable solution, you can’t tell me i’m wrong”

“You’re wrong” Peeta cut in before anyone else could agree or disagree, I couldn’t tell by their faces and yet none of them cut into Peeta “You are restrained and we have a watch on you, Mitch knew what he was signing up for, we all did”

I looked away from him. This wasn’t right, my thoughts were against me now but what happened when they turned on him again? Because they would.

“You saved me once, you’ll be saving me this time aswell if you just-“

“No”

My eyes met his and I knew I’d never seen the fire in his gaze that he’d held this moment, Peeta was not budging on this. I frowned, I was a liability why couldn’t he see that?

My mind flashed to solutions, none came to mind. “There has to be a way where if I know i’m going to snap that I can stop myself” My words break at the end as I gaze around the room, there’s only silence “Please… please”

Gale steps forward and I see Peeta take a step but Katniss stops him, and I’m grateful as the brunette boy crouches down and pulls something from a hidden pocket.

A small pill, it was hard to think it’d do what i asked, delicately Gale pushed the pill into my own hidden pocket and patted it “It’s Nightlock, no pain and instant. Only if you have to”

I nodded, hesitantly but promising “Only if I have to”

And with that they set out, planning a course of action. The pods were too often now, they would have to stop constantly.

It was time to go underground

—

- … sooo part three?!?

—

DONT SCREAM AT ME IK IM AN ASSHOLE IM SO SO SO SORRY FOR MAKING YALL WAIT MY GOODREADS GOAL WAS SLACKING HAD TO CATCH UP HOPE YALL LIKE THIS XXXX

taglist girlies💓: @yazminetrahan @solarbxby @abbersreads @antonietta18

#books #hunger games #peeta mellark #peeta supremacy #the hunger games #katniss everdeen #coriolanus snow #peetamellarkworks #peeta mellark works #peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader #peeta mellark angst #peeta mellark imagine #romance #angst #angst imagine peeta

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myersesque · 1 year

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thinking a lot abt tess.

thinking abt her immediately parenting ellie, even when she can't be sure it's real, and even when joel is still ready to shoot her. thinking abt her knowing joel well enough to tell him to put his gun down from the other room, because she just knows he's raised it. thinking abt her treating joel so gently and calmly, even when his pessimism and anger is driving her mad, right up until the end. thinking abt how she was ready to get joel and ellie to the fireflies even knowing she couldn't continue on with them. thinking abt the pure panic when she realises they've gone, the way joel immediately knows something's wrong because tess has always been the calm one, tess is always keeping him from freaking out, what else could be wrong but the worst possible scenario? thinking abt "i never asked you for anything. not to feel the way i felt," right after joel refused to define their relationship to ellie, and right after slipping into bed at night to hold him but still getting up before him so he doesn't have to acknowledge it in the light of day - thinking of the way joel jolts to say something, to reassure her, and she immediately begs him not to. thinking about the terrible, longing look in joel's eyes before he leaves. thinking about "save who you can save", and joel accepting that tess will have to be another person he loved and watched this wasteland tear apart. thinking about the infection kissing her before joel ever did.

#does this make sense. i'm so fucking upset #i sobbed for the record lmao #i love her so much and i convinced myself this wasn't coming yet #og #the last of us hbo spoilers #tlou hbo spoilers #tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #tess servopoulos #joel miller

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multifan2022 · 8 months

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Fearless 6

PART 1 PART 5

Masterlist

"The first thing you will learn today is how to shoot a gun. The second thing is how to win a fight." Your voice rang out through the shooting range, as Four passed guns out to each person. You caught the way Tris tried desperately to make eye contact with him. Trying to not feel satisfaction when he didn't look her way. "Thankfully, if you are here, you already know how to get on and off a moving train, so I don't need to teach you that."

Christina chuckled a little before looking your way, "Can you teach us the tuck and roll? It was flawless." You blushed slightly at the praise, something you weren't use to. You nodded and laughed a little "You will all develop your own way of getting on and off without completely fucking yourself up over time. IF you pass, so stay focused."

"Initiation is divided into three stages. We will measure your progress and rank you according to your performance in each stage. The stages are not weighed equally in determining your final rank, so it is possible, though difficult, to drastically improve your rank over time."

You watch Four as he stops behind Peter, a gun in his own hand, the same one everyone in the room is holding. "We believe that preparation eradicates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear," says Four. "Therefore each stage of initiation is intended to prepare you in a different way. The first stage is primarily physical; the second, primarily emotional; the third, primarily mental."

"But what..." Peter yawns through his words. "What does firing a gun have to do with...bravery?" Four flips the gun in his hand, presses the barrel to Peter's forehead, and clicks a bullet into place. Peter freezes with his lips parted, the yawn dead in his mouth. "Wake. Up," Four snaps. "You are holding a loaded gun, you idiot. Act like it."

He lowers the gun. Once the immediate threat is gone, Peter's green eyes harden. You dont even try to hold in the laughter that bursts from your lips at his face. You were sure if the gun had been pressed any longer he would've shit himself. You only laugh harder when his cheeks turn bright red.

"To answer your question...you are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if you are prepared to defend yourself." Four stops walking at the end of the row and turns on his heel. "This is also information you may need later in stage one. So, watch Y/n." When he turns back to you, he winks before walking to lean against the wall next too you.

You face the wall with the targets on it—one square of plywood with three red circles on it. You stand perpendicular to the target with your feet roughly shoulder width apart. Holding the gun in both hands, and fires.

The bang is so loud it should hurt your ears but they are dead to the noise now. "For a right handed shooter, the left hand holds the forestock, elbow pointing down. The right hand holds the grip, elbow pointing out, but not exaggerated." You explain while demonstrating what you mean.

You turn and fire a few more times, each time just making the hole at the center bigger. All their heads crane to look at your target, most in awe, while Peter just looks more pissed. "Its your turn, Four and I will be around to fix stances and answer questions... As long as they arent stupid." You say looking directly at Peter and then with a small smile at Christina.

Watching Tris try to shoot is.. painful. She has almost emptied the clip and hasn't hit the target once. While you're in a terrific mood (wonder why) you know she will grate against that. As you walk towards them you hear Will, the Erudite boy speaking too her. "Statistically speaking,you should have hit the target at least once by now, even by accident." He is blond, with shaggy hair and a crease between his eyebrows.

Hes struggling enough as is, he doesn't need to be correcting anyone. "Is that so?" You say sarcastically as you step between them. You lean to the side and look at his target, which he has only hit once. Looking back to him you try to keep your voice flat, it doesn't work but you tried. "Maybe you should worry about your own target kid.."

His ears turn pink on the egdes before he turns back, Tris shoots one last time catching the end of the target.. Barley.

She turns back to him with a smug look on her face, "Guess I got it". You scoff but before you can speak Will says "So you see, I'm right. The stats don't lie." Again you scoff, this time rubbing the muscle that connects your shoulder to your neck.

"Will.. Sweetheart... Your Erudite is showing.. Tuck it away for me quick yeah?" You say before turning your back to him and clapping your hands together once. "Tris.. You hit the target once.. Barley hit the target once.. If that was a person it would barely qualify as a flesh wound. Depending on how big their clothes are it wouldn't even be a flesh wound.. Do NOT get cocky. Do something half ass right because your angry does not mean anything."

Walking away from the two you can feel her eyes on you. When you look ahead Four is staring back at her, you roll your eyes before addressing the group. "In the field, the chances that you will be angry are slim. It is more likely that you will be scared, nervous or anxious. None of that should matter as a Dauntless. Your bravery and courage should overshadow everything. So when you do something in anger and it somehow comes out correct, don't take it seriously."

"Take it seriously when you can pick up any weapon and use it as an extension of yourself. Guns, swords, bow staff.. A metal pipe you find laying around, you need to be able to pack everything besides your job and your life away." You look around refusing to look at Four again, when you see that they all have finished the ammo that has been provided you dismiss them for lunch.

You take your lunch break in Toris chair, the stinging sensation of your new tattoo present as the ink sinks around your thigh. Tori chuckles and rolls her eyes as you roll to your stomach to get it finished. Some would be ashamed, laying here in your underwear but not you. The finger bruises on your thigh bring you nothing but joy.

"So.. you and Four still going with this whole friends with benefits thing?" Tori asked while lining everything up. When the buzzing restarted it stung a little more than normal, due to the tenderness of your flesh. You nod and close your eyes allowing yourself a small moment of peace before having to deal with Eric who you know will be at training.

"I dont see why you two dont just admit you have feelings for each other and get together. Spare us all the long drawn out drama." You smile at Toris bluntness, she always has such a way with her words.

"My feelings aren't the only ones in this scenario, we both know Four doesn't like me like that. I'm just enjoying it while it lasts." You wait while Tori wipes your leg down, before standing up and handing you the shorts that will now be covering very little of your legs.

Tori looks at you incredulously "That boy has just as many feelings for you as you do him. Your both stupid. But I will be here, the ever wise old lady to hold your hands through whatever drama you both cause."

You laugh again, feeling free for the first time in a week. The feeling is fleeting though as Tori opens her mouth and asks "How is Tris?" Your face falls and you sigh loudly, "Shes making it hard. She cant walk one line, one minute shes practically hiding behind the others begging to not be seen. Then the next shes in Fours face yelling. She cant shoot but when she clipped the edge of the target she acted like she got a bullseye first shot. I don't know how to deal with her if I'm honest. Im not Tori Wu."

The dark haired woman in front of you steps up and cups your cheeks. "You are strong Y/n, you can do this. You have too. I don't know what but something is happening, you need to be prepared for it."

After answering a few more of her questions, all about the new girl you tell her you need to go. Really you needed to go ten minutes ago, but who's counting??

When you step into the gym you take a breath to apologize for being late. But when you see Four pressed up behind Tris, his fingers pressed against her stomach as he 'instructs' her you stay quiet. Instead just making your way through the punching bags watching. Stopping only to correct Al's stance, without touching him, before walking away.

Your showing your weakness by caring so much for him. That voice crows in your head as you keep walking. At this point you've been there a half an hour and Four hasn't noticed. When you stop next to Christina you can feel Tris's eyes burning into the back of your head. "You're doing everything right besides how you're making a fist."

Christina stops looking down at her hands before releasing her fingers and looking back at you. You smile and congratulate her in your head, if shes silent that means shes learning. Just as you hold your hand up to show her how you want her to do it you hear Tris mumble 'How many ways are there to make a fist?'

Taking a calming breath you slip into work mode. The mode that sets you apart from the others, the one with no feelings, no worries. Just a solid perfect work ethic. "Your wrapping your thumb around the end of your hand leaving it straight when it should be down. Wrapped over the first knuckle of your pointer finger."

Showing her what you mean, you watch her do it and see the annoyed look on her face. You laugh a little before continuing "I know its uncomfortable, but I promise dislocating or breaking your thumb is a lot worse. Plus once it becomes a habit you wont even think about it." You catch a few other students fixing their mistakes around you, which is encouraging.

"Next your stance is pretty good, but I prefer having a more solid base. You stand squarely facing your target, then drop the foot on your dominant side back and out to an angle, 30 maybe 40 degrees. You should keep your feet a comfortable distance apart, but the exact difference is a matter of personal preference. Some people are taller and can keep their legs further apart like myself. But your on the shorter side so you'll want to be closer."

The entire time you speak to her you show her with your body how to move. That small voice in the back of your mind is screaming about how you can teach without touching them. How that means Four wanted to touch her, he never touches people. You keep talking over it, trying to be the perfect teacher. Trying to show yourself why you are here.

"Now the last and most fun part." By this point over half the class is listening to you. Four has stopped walking around and is just watching you teach, but you're studiously ignoring him.

"The first thing to remember is that the punch should go straight forward, rather than out to the side. The idea is to send your fist out and bring it right back to its original position, with as little extraneous motion as possible.If you flare your arm out, like in the movies, your target will have plenty of time to avoid or block the strike—and you're going to leave yourself wide open to getting a punch in your own face."

"The full punch motion stems from turning your hips." After demonstrating again you watch as Christina does it, smiling at her and offering her a high five. You turn to watch the others and feel pride bloom in your chest as they all start performing the task correctly.

"Good job Tina.. Peter, Al and Will.. You are all doing well. Keep it up, that's how we work our way up the board." You saw the shock on everyone's face as you congratulated Peter, but you needed to be as unbiased in the 'classroom' as you could. If he failed it wasn't going to be said that you had it out for him.

You were not going to tarnish your reputation, because of some spoiled brat whose parents told him he was better than others. He would fuck up, and you would be there to catch him. But until then you have to do your best to treat everyone equally. Even Tris.

After ten more minutes you dismiss them for the night. Reminding them when they need to be in their dorms and not to go out without someone. You make your way out in front of the group, still trying to avoid what is sure to be an awkward conversation with Four.

@coolestgirlhere @everydayisordinary @hannahbeezz @cat-lockwood @parkmiraesworld @leclerc13

Boring part, sorry guys! Ill try harder on the next chapter!

#tobias eaton x reader #four eaton #four x reader #divergent #divergent fanfiction #tobias eaton

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siren-nate · 21 days

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The way I tend to characterize the Alan-created stick figures is that his mindset in the moment he made them defines who they are, even if their personalities and habits can change over their years of existence.

Victim was made solely to be tormented in an early 00s style violent stick figure animation. This means he views everything in terms of how much of a threat it is to him, and is singularly focused on taking revenge on his tormentor. If he's not the "victim", he's not really anything - he has no identity. He may or may not already know that Alan's a changed person who now treats his creations with kindness, but either way, it wouldn't stop him from seeking out revenge.

The Chosen One was made to be powerful, first and foremost, because the Animator wanted a challenge. That's why it's in his nature to rebel, to break the status quo, to disrupt. It doesn't mean he's evil, just that he tends to go against the grain of the current situation. At first it means he's seeking to break the Animator's control of the computer, then he says "screw destiny" by befriending the one made solely to destroy him, then they cause more chaos across the internet because it's in their nature. But the longer he stays in that, the more he thinks he needs to change, that this isn't right - because, again, he was never made to be evil, just powerful and disruptive.

That's why the Dark Lord is so fucked: he was made as a weapon. Just to destroy. His only reason for coming into existence was because the Animator needed the Chosen One dealt with. He doesn't reject the status quo, he follows it, no matter who's telling him what it is - first it's the Animator, then it's Chosen, his only friend. Whereas Chosen starts to have second thoughts, it's not in Dark's nature to do so - only to improve, to polish the violence and destruction to an absolute mirror sheen, all to impress the one person he cares about. When Chosen turns on him and the Animator is still his enemy, I think the only reason Dark is still causing destruction is because that's literally all he's ever done. It's all he knows. He can't imagine anything outside that because he has no experience with anything else.

And that's why, from a symbolic standpoint, the Second Coming is his greatest threat and the one to defeat him. She's his antithesis. Made years after everything with Chosen and Dark was over and done with, made just because the Animator was doing what he loved: creating. And unlike with Victim, she was probably intended to do more than suffer and die for black comedy.

Second's core ability is creating, no matter what environment she's in - she uses the pencil in the main series to effortlessly make living beings or tools, constantly crafts and comes up with ideas in the Minecraft series, and learns the rules of the universes around her to use them to her benefit in the Education series. Dark only knows destruction. Second only knows creation. Even after she seemingly wins in IV, she tosses the ray gun aside and starts making things now that she has free reign of the computer - she only seeks to destroy so long as there's a threat to herself or what she cares about.

#Animator vs. Animation #Alan Becker #ava victim #The Chosen One #The Dark Lord #The Second Coming #TCO #TDL #TSC #This is why I'm pleading for Dark Lord to come back in 6 #So much untapped unexplored potential #He doesn't even need a redemption arc I just want his mindset to be explored more #Beyond ''I am doing this because I enjoy it''

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calummss · 8 months

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Change Of Witness | Thomas Shelby

masterlist

summary: coming home earlier from work you see your father with a noose around his neck and hear the sound of a clocking gun behind you

pairing: fem! reader x thomas shelby

words: 800

a/n: inspo kill boksoon; tw short description of abuse; NOT PROOF READ

You never were one to talk much. You rather kept to yourself; alone, surrounded by nothing but thought and memories. Working in the store was a constant reminder that you weren’t a people’s person.

‘Y/n,’ one of the female workers called. ‘Can you take over my shift today?’

‘I can’t,’ you replied dryly. ‘I have a reservation for tea with my mother.’ You didn’t.

‘Oh okay. Have fun.’

‘Thank you.’

Walking over to where your personal items where you went to grab your bag when your sleeve rose, revealing a dark purple mark that kissed your skin, visible to anyone who took a glance at your arm. Quickly pulling your sleeve back down, you made your way out of the shop hurrying along the roads of Small Heath to get home. Wanting you to curl up in bed and deal with life the next day.

‘Look at me when I’m talking to you!’

A sting pained your face as your head turned sideways, impacted by the force of a steady hand.

‘Do you have no respect for me!’

Another sting. Another whip of the head. Your neck muscles are close to cramping as you fell to your knees.

‘Do you have nothing to say?’

You stayed silent.

With a swift motion he held your wrist, forcefully pulling you up as you winced, ‘Please stop,’ you cried out quietly.

‘Now you fucking talk?’

‘Please stop.’

‘I will stop once you act right!’—

‘Excuse me,’ the lady you bumped into apologised kindly.

‘No, I’m sorry.’ You said but she was long gone.

Arriving home you opened the door, leaving your bag at the front a stayed completely silent for a few seconds, trying to figure out if you were alone or if you had to expect him to be home. But something felt eerie. A weird sound sounded from further in the house. Walking towards the living room the sounds got louder, clearer, like someone’s voice was being hindered. When you stepped into the living room you stood still, taking off your hand as you watched your father stand on a small wooden stool with a noose tied around his neck, a scarf tied around his mouth that muffled out the shouts he was trying to get past the fabric. You stood there eyeing him, unsure of what had happened when the clocking of a gun suddenly sounded behind you, something touching the back of your head.

‘You’re supposed to be at work.’ The man’s voice sounded husky.

‘Are you here to kill my father?’ You stared straight ahead, not daring to turn around, trying to sound out your father’s cries for help.

‘Your father is killing himself…’ He said in a raspy tone, his tone weirdly pervasive. ‘After killing his own daughter.’

Pressing your lips together you stared at the noose that held your father’s life, ‘I really should’ve taken that shift.’

You pulled your shoulder together when you noticed that the man had taken hold of your hat, the quiet sound letting you know that he had most likely placed it on top of the piano. ‘Nice hat.’

You cleared your throat.

‘How old are you?’

‘Twenty-two.’

‘That complicates things,’

‘In what way?’ You asked gently, your feet starting to cramp with how still you were standing.

‘You’re basically a child. I have younger siblings so I don’t kill children. That’s my rule.’ He said with his same monotone voice, the pressure on the back of your head releasing when he withdrew his gun.

‘I see that your job isn’t just for bad people then?’

‘Are you always this reckless?’

‘Defining someone as a child is really vague.’ You told him, staring at a picture that stood on the coffee table next to the small stool. ‘Rules should be clearer. You should say you don’t kill minors. But I’m a grown woman with a job.’

‘Child or woman, letting a witness survive—hey.’

Before he could finish his sentence you stomped over to the chair, kicking it from underneath his feet as you watched him wiggle and cry out. You turned around facing the man that had come to your house to do what you had done, recognising his face as Thomas Shelby who you have seen around Small Heath occasionally.

‘Now you are the witness.’ You stared at him, a slow smile forming on your lips as you could feel the grips of your wrist loosen as the muffles grew quieter. His breaths stretching out before stopping completely. ‘Are you still going to kill me, Mr. Shelby?’

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ta3baee · 8 months

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Jungkook with a chubby girlfriend !

Pairing : Idol!Jungkook x Chubby!Fem!Reader

Warnings : Nsfw headcanons after the sfw, I will include another warning though.

Ta3baee notes : Part two here! Reblogs are very much appreciated <3 Minors dni! I’m not responsible for what you consume on the internet. If you feel like you’ve seen this post before it’s because you did! I accidentally deleted my account ‘ta3bae’ (one e) and with it all my posts, sooo consider this a repost ??

SFW !

• He’s absolute putty for your stretch marks !

• He’d name each while tracing over them with his finger.

• Jungkook would definitely cup your tummy while back hugging you.

• This man would FOLD if you wear tight dresses, he loves how much they hug and define your curves.

• He’d definitely show you off to his friends, making you sit in his lap when there’s an event/party going on and he wants to sit it out.

• He’d squish your squishy cheeks to make your lips pucker and kiss them.

• He’d make you meals when you feel down and eat with you.

• If you feel like wanting to lose weight, he’d help you lose it in a healthy way! He’d make you nutritious food and snacks.

• He’d love going to the gym with you and wearing matching gym clothes.

• I feel like he’d be very protective over you, so if someone were to make a comment or look at you in the wrong way, he’d ask them to take a walk but if they don’t he’d bring the guns ( 💪🏻)

• He’d purposely get you clothes a bit smaller because he loves seeing you body but he also loves when you wear his oversized clothes that just eat you up.

Nsfw below, do not proceed if it’s not to your

liking!

NSFW !

• While in missionary, he’d grab a hold of your tummy and squeeze while he’s thrusting into you.

• He loves doggy style, the sight of his dick disappearing inside you and your ass giggling makes him whine.

• If you get insecure when he wants you to sit on his face, he just grabs your thighs and manhandles you so you’re above him.

• When you’re close to cumming, and he knows cuz you’d tighten around him even more, he’d lean into your ear “does my big girl wanna cum? Hmm?” ( GRAJJJ)

• When 69ing he’d prefer you on top that way he can spread you and lick a long thick strip from your clit to your entrance, even going as far as to tease your ass (if ur into anal)

• If you surprise him with wearing lingerie, he’d instantly get hard at the sight of your thighs spilling over the knee socks.

• He’d definitely hand cuffs you to the bed post and use a bar spreader just to sit and watch as you cum around the vibrating dildo over and over.

• In other words, he’s obsessed with your pussy. He could spend days down there, and the way your thunder thighs wrap around him? 😮‍💨

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keen-li · 2 months

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What you need | prologue

Synopsis: everybody needs, but how do you define need? Do you even know what you need.

Genre: best friends au, angst, fluff, smut, slow burn.

Jungkook x reader.

4.7k

prologue | next

‘’you can’t be serious’’ your brows knits as your voice shakes with disbelief.

‘’I’m serious as fuck yn’’ he spits out like venom from a snake’s glands ‘’Is it so hard to stop being friends with him?’’ he says it like it’s that easy to end a friendship, especially with no valid reason.

‘’yes. We’ve been friends for forever’’ You can feel your throat tremble with all this defending you have to do.

‘’yn 3 years isn’t forever’’

‘’but it's longer than we’ve been together’’ you spit back with your own venom. You wouldn’t put Jungkook over Yunho cause he’s your boyfriend, but that’s not going to make you forget Jungkook. The person who’s been there for you the most (not that you’re counting) ‘’I’m not going to stop being friends with him over nothing or just because you’re threatened by him’’

You know that’s what this is about. You don’t know when it started but Yunho has always seemed to be threatened by Jungkook. You’ve reassured him so much you got tired of it, so you just let him talk to himself when he complained.

‘‘so, this is nothing to you?’’ he stops walking around to stare at you with a glare you’ve never seen. This argument is not like the others you’ve had over Jungkook, it’s worse. The fire spat out and acid thrown (in form of words) causes the whole house to overheat around you, leaving you scorched and burnt.

‘’you really do love Jungkook more than me?’’ he seems fed up with it, and you are too. For how long can you continue to baby his insecurity?

‘’I’ve told you a million times that Jungkook and I are just friends and there’s nothing you need to worry about’’ you try and be the sensible one (as always). Since this argument was about you; you were going to be the one to try and end it if you were going to be able to put out the fire in Yunho.

‘’if I wanted to be with him, I would’ve done it by now, but no, I’m with you and I want to be with you’’ you say with everything, apart from the irritation and anger, in your heart. Maybe it wasn't the best way to say it but you said it, and it did nothing but make him angrier.

He’s silent as if analyses the validity of your words. He knows you’re probably correct, you would never choose Jungkook over him but something just bothers him. He wonders if this has anything to do with you and Jungkook or just an inner unacknowledged vengeance.

‘’what I said still stands, either you stop being friends with him or we’re done’’

Your skin paled as his skin stayed healthy and glowing like this was a piece of cake for him. As if he was unbothered and doing this to make you uncomfortable. You thought you made it to the crossroads but you're far from it. You're actually in the middle of the highway waiting to be hit.

‘’come on yunho, why are being like this’’ you’re getting tired of trying.

‘’you’re doing this to yourself yn’’ How are you doing this to yourself when he’s the one pointing a gun to your head to choose between a rock and a hard place.

‘’it's not fair, because you know I love you and i really care about you’’

‘’if you love me and care about me, you’re going to stop being friends with him’’

His stubbornness is so unbelievable.

‘’you’re not being fair’’ you bite your lower lip. you hope the pain from it can distract you from the pounding of your heart. Your fists clench and unclench as you try to think of what to do, things don’t seem to be easing down and you don’t like it at all.

‘’no yn I’m not, but I have to protect myself’’ his face and tone are as uncaring as ever. He’s being difficult and uncaring as you fight for this relationship. Are you the only one who cares?

‘’protect yourself from what?’’ your voice raises an octave; you start to get frustrated with the confusion from his indifferent behavior.

‘’from getting hurt’’

You’ve had it.

‘’I TOLD YOU, JUNGKOOK AND I ARE NEVER GOING TO BE TOGETHER!’’ you yell like you’ve never yelled before that he’s even taken aback. "I swear’’ your voice goes back to its light and softness, almost begging. But still no change on his part.

You feel like everything in the room is laughing at you.

All the little laughs and happy moments all the promises made, all the kisses gave; in your face laughing at you, mocking you for giving love another chance just for it to spit in your face another time.

If this doesn’t work out, you’re never going to do this again.

‘’That doesn’t guarantee me anything’’ he watches you and you scoff.

‘’so, tell me, me or Jungkook?’’

‘’you’re not being fair’’ you roll your eyes.

‘’that’s just how it is’’ is it really? Or is it how you want it to be? you want to say but hold back you don’t want to add gasoline to this ticking time bomb of a relationship.

‘’Please make the right choice, think about us’’

You chuckle bitterly internally, is this when he cares about what you had?

What you had.

You think of that. Yunho was your hope in love after your last relationship, he was-is your everything. So, if he cares about what you have then why is he doing this?

You think about it. Yunho is your boyfriend, and Jungkook is your best friend. You’ve known Jungkook longer but you love Yunho more (well in the boyfriend way) and you love Jungkook in the best friend way.

Which is more valuable and worth keeping.

‘’I can’t, I’m sorry’’ you breathe out ‘’jungkook is my friend’’

‘I guess you’ve made your choice’’

‘’Next time we go out remind me to carry sunscreen’’ jungkook says through the speaker ‘’im looking like a roast turkey’’

You snort.

Knowing Jungkook he’s probably in his bathroom staring at himself. You giggle when you hear him whisper a hot one though.

He isn’t wrong.

‘’speaking of going out, please never bring your boyfriend again.’’ He chuckles out but you stay silent.

At the mention of yunho you freeze, everything does. You know jungkook means no harm. All your friends tease you about Yunho.

Now you begin to wonder if it was a warning hidden behind humor because they knew how much you loved him and passed little jokes about him.

Maybe you should’ve known, how could you have thought of it when you were so “so in love’’ with him though.

‘’yn, you with me?’’ jungkook asks noticing how quiet you’ve gone. He starts to worry that he’s offended you, but you know he’s just joking right? Well, he’s not. He doesn’t like Yunho one single bit and never wants to see him ever again, cause if he does, he’s going to punch him. For many different reasons.

“Are you okay?” he coos out, body tensing in worry at your silence.

Silence.

Sniffle, sniffle.

Jungkook pauses when he hears you sniffle, you’re crying. His heart muscle contracts at the sound.

Why are you crying?

Is it something he’s done? Cause he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was ever the reason a tear left your eye. He wouldn’t forgive anyone who was the reason for your tears.

It was so hard keeping this to yourself and not telling anyone, especially jungkook.

‘’yn what’s wrong, is something going on?’’ you don’t answer and he gets more uneasy. It makes it worse for him that you’re in two different places.

‘’does it have to do with Yunho?’’ he knows he’s probably right, but he just wants you to say it; so, he can have a reason for whatever he’s going to do after.

Silence.

‘’Did he do something to you?’’ his voice gets more impatient.

‘’yn please talk to me’’ at this point he’s begging you to say something. He can’t see you, so the least you can do is say something; tell him he’s overreacting and you’re okay (even though he wouldn’t believe it until he saw you in person. And even then he still wouldn’t believe)

‘’if he did something to you, you need to tell me’’ jungkook paces around his bedroom slowly.

‘’he didn’t do anything’’ You finally speak but it's not what he wants to hear. But it does confirm what he’s thinking.

Jungkook knows it's hard for you to speak when you're crying, normally he’d let you cry it out until you’re calm and can tell him. But right now, he wants you to speak.

‘’it doesn’t sound that way’’ You can hear the anger rising in his tone, if you never knew him, you’d think he was mad at you.

But he’s just on the road to anger, that’s why you didn’t want to tell him. You’d planned on telling him later but your emotions were not on the same page with you.

‘’Did he touch you?’’ now he’s just giving you options to pick yes or no. It's a bit of an overstep in jungkook's part but he's worried and you're not giving him an answer. He wouldn't put it past yunho though.

‘’I swear to god yn if he did...’’ jungkook fumes out letting his thoughts go ahead of him cause you won’t seem to tell him.

You don't know where your voice has gone but its not there, you do want to speak but you can't seem to find the voice or energy.

Even though he’s angry, whatever it is it’s not your fault and he shouldn’t take it out on you. Anger won’t make you speak any quicker.

Jungkook isn't so protective, most of the time, but when yunho is mentioned he has this inkling to keep you closer to him. He doesn't know why but he just does, he tries to keep to himself but his heart aches too much.

‘’talk to me bunny’’ he coos hoping to get more insight.

That pet name does it for you.

‘’he broke up with me kook’’ you wobble out your words.

Jungkook’s hands tap against his table angrily. his jaw unintentionally clenches. He wants to be happy that you're not tied to that bastard anymore, but this is not about him. It's about you. And unlike jungkook, you actually like yunho and are, surprisingly, in love with him.

‘’yn, when did this happen?’’ you can’t tell what emotion he’s speaking with.

‘’two days ago,” you speak out slowly and so low that jungkook wouldn’t have heard you if he didn’t know you.

‘’And you’re only just telling?” you feel like he’s blaming you but you’re just in your feels and you know he isn’t.

‘’I’m still processing it” you defend.

‘’okay’’

‘’I’m coming over right now’’ you can hear him shuffle around, probably putting on some clothes.

“kook, that’s no- you don’t have-‘’

‘’Don’t tell me I don’t have to; I’m on my fucking way’’

‘’you didn’t have to drive here’’ you say when you open the door and see a hooded up jungkook.

‘’shut up and let me in’’ he jokes out and lets himself in.

‘’you know I’m mad that this when you’re telling’’ jungkook hums out into your hair as his hand comfortingly rubs your arm.

‘’I told you I’m still processing it’’ You coo into his chest, and the vibration from your voice soothes his previously aching beating muscle.

‘’I know, that’s why I’m letting it slide for now’’ Jungkook’s eyes move to look at you, your eyes closed as you lightly breath against his chest.

He's happy you've calmed down now. After walking in he asked you to tell him what happened, you did (not all but you did). You ignored any question of 'why did he break up with you'. You don't want to answer that or even tell him.

His eyes roam your living room which is still the same from the last time he came, maybe with the addition of a new painting. But the overall ambiance and warmth are still present and he knows Yunho’s presence hasn’t contaminated it.

‘’next time you tell me immediately’’ he says without thinking.

‘’Next time?’’ you move away and jungkook cringes and the disappearance of your warmth.

‘’that’s not what I mea-‘’

‘’yeah I know’’ you place your legs on his lap and he gladly accepts them. ‘’but there won't be a next time’’

You say still in thought.

‘’I think I’m done dating’’

It hurts jungkook hearing you say that. He’s seen how many times a douchebag has hurt you, and it weakens him to slowly watch you give up on love.

‘’I’m tired of getting my heart broken, cause that’s all that happens when I date’’ you start ‘’honestly I knew love didn’t exist but I still wanted to try. So, I guess I shouldn’t be mad if love shows me its ass, cause I’ve known all along. true love doesn’t exist, maybe love in all doesn’t exist.’’

One thing jungkook fully believed in his life was true love, he thinks he probably got it from watching his parents be so in love with each other. His mother always told him, that people always look around for what they think is true love when the actual thing is right in front of their face. You just have to pay attention.

‘’I guess this gives me enough time to focus on my career’’ you sing-song.

You try and seem okay and prove something to jungkook.

‘’bunny’’ he calls out softly as his hand brushes passed yours making little electrons lightly dance over your skin.

‘’you'll find someone who truly loves you’’ You understand where his words are coming from but they don’t help you feel not less than.

‘’maybe not in this lifetime, but thanks for trying kook’’ you let out a painful laugh. Jungkook’s eyes sink deep into yours as if trying to find what you’re not telling, what you’re so afraid of showing him.

He wants to know and wants to see everything; you don’t need to hide anything from him.

He hopes you know that.

You move away from his gaze and try to hide what’s left of your hurt. You don’t need him more worried.

‘’so have you taken up my offer for the dating app’’ You change the topic with a smile and a heavy heart.

‘’I’m still thinking about it’’ You watch he’s teeth play with the silver loop at the corner of his lip. You’re still not yet used to his pierced lip even though he’s had it for over a year. Jungkook taps your calf when he catches you looking a little too long at his lip.

‘’if you take any longer, I’m going to have to find a blind date for you myself’’ your eyes flush amusement.

Jungkook’s brows rise in playfulness before they drop and he smiles.

‘’I’m sure anyone you pick would be a good fit’’

‘’glad you know’’

‘’I think I’m going to clock in for the night’’ You yawn and stand. Jungkook watches your figure hover over him. ‘’feel free to stay longer and eat whatever’’

You know he would cause he’s done it before.

‘’I’m just going to head out, got work tomorrow’’ he stands with a groan. “as long as you’ll be fine” he stares at you waiting for an answer. You give him one with your eyes. He’s helped to a lot this night and you don’t want him going late to work.

‘’love you kook’’ you say abruptly and jungkook doesn’t have time to process it when that tingling feeling in his stomach starts. It feels like the time when he had to perform in front of the whole school, in the 10th grade.

He didn't like that feeling, but this one feels more enjoyable.

‘’thanks for coming tonight’’ your bright eyes beam at him.

‘’Anything for you bunny’’ he smiles before he’s out the door.

Jungkook didn’t have work the next day, okay maybe he did but one day of not attending wouldn’t hurt him, right?

He did write to his boss after all.

I apologize for the late notice, but...... cause my mother is unwell.

It's just one lie. He hopes his mother doesn’t mind.

As Jungkook pulls over he’s suddenly grateful for all the times you’ve asked him to drop you off at Yunho’s house and how he persisted in walking you up to his apartment.

With his mind made up Jungkook raises his hand to knock on the door. He hopes he still lives here cause it would be embarrassing if he didn’t. If he had moved you would’ve told Jungkook, after all, you tell him everything.

‘’nuguseyo?’’ [who are you?]

Jungkook’s blood boils when the feminine voice speaks. He swears Yunho still lives here. Who’s she?

If what jungkook’s thinking is correct then Yunho is in for more than an ass whooping.

‘’Yunho. does he live here?’’ he speaks to her bluntly. She’s not why he came so he doesn’t care for her.

‘’eung’’ she says before she speaks again ‘’Yeobo’’

Jungkook is too familiar with that term of endearment, so he is correct.

This bastard was cheating on her. And even if he wasn’t and jungkook is reaching, how can he be with someone only a few days after breaking up with her?

‘’someone’s here for you’’ she says as his figure comes into focus.

‘’wh-‘’ his voice cuts off. ‘’jungkook? Look what the cat dragged in. Did yn send you here’’

It pisses Jungkook off how he says your name with no damn respect.

It would have honestly been better for him if you had sent him, he would’ve been at mercy.

But the fact that he’s here on his own accord means Jungkook can do whatever he wants. No mercy.

He just prays you don’t find out. You hate violence and he knows it. You would kill him if you knew he was about to do what he’s about to do. But the red pumping to his fists makes him think unclear, right now all he cares about is avenging you. But maybe he’s doing this to also quench the hatred he has for Yunho within himself.

‘’I’m sure she told you what happened, you won I guess’’ he says it like it was a game ‘’But did you win really.’’ He chuckles.

Jungkook can hear the mocking in his voice.

He didn’t need much motivation until his body reacted and soon crimson painted on his fist.

‘’that asshole’’ willoe spits out through her swallow. ‘’he really wanted you to pick?’’ you nod.

‘’I’m glad you made the right choice’’ She places her mug down. You don’t even want to bother and tell her that you almost (for a split second) wanted to pick him over Jungkook. And for the past 2 days, you’ve been wondering if you should’ve. But it’s the loneliness speaking.

Remembering how Jungkook came over yesterday to see you makes you glad that you made that decision. You feel shitty for even thinking of picking Yunho.

‘’Making someone pick is ruthless, selfish and immature’’

Willoe has been wallowing out curses ever since you told her about Yunho, you kinda regret it.

You wonder how Jimin can handle her tongue.

Unlike Jungkook, willoe took you not telling her better. You pin it on the fact that she’s also kept things from you too, for quite a long time too.

One of the things was that she and Jimin had started dating. now that you think about it you probably complained her and Jimin’s ears off (like she’s doing right now to you). Who goes 3 months without telling their bestie that she’s dating her love at first sight who’s also your friend? What impresses you more is how Jimin was able to keep it from you.

If you had even the smallest inkling that she and Jimin were dating you would’ve probably pulled it out of him. But there were no signs.

Or maybe you were too wrapped around Yunho’s nagging that you didn’t pay attention.

‘’Can you stop cursing that man’s lineage’’ Your coffee’s probably going cold with how you’re just holding it. The warmth on the ceramic provides some comfort in a way.

‘’oh I haven’t even begun cursing his lineage’’ she scoffs ‘’It's just that I have a date with Jimin tonight, otherwise, I would’ve gone to pull out the candles’’ You know she’s just playing. Even though Willoe on her days off looks like she’s the type, she’s far from pulling out candles to curse someone. But you wouldn’t put it past her.

You just laugh.

‘’Have you told jungkook?’’ she lowers her voice down to a serious tone.

Your head lifts to look at her confused. ‘’told him what?’’

She rolls her eyes at you as if you don’t know.

‘’that he made you pick between him or jungkook.’’

It clicks. You don’t know if it’s cause of what’s going on but your mind has been foggy of late.

‘’hell no’’ you spit out quite roughly.

‘’why not’’

‘’because it would piss him off, I don’t even know what he would do’’ You finally take a sip of your coffee and cringe at how lukewarm it's gotten. Willoe watches you noticing that you haven’t taken a sip of your coffee.

‘’you think he would beat up Yunho?’’ you ask her for an opinion.

‘’oh, I know he would, without a doubt. I’m surprised you haven’t gotten a call from a hospitalized yunho’’ willoe stares at the waiter to bring her another order. She comes here often so she hopes they remember.

‘’like be for real yn have you looked at him’’ if only she knew how many times you’ve looked at him. ’’He could take Yunho in one go and win’’

you know he can, you have hundreds of his gym pics in your gallery. Not because you stalk him but because jungkook feels the need to send you some every time he’s in the gym (which is like every day).

Why haven’t you deleted them? Because it’s cute that he can share this cute ritual with you of all people. And even though you don’t go to the gym with him at all. The pictures make it like you are accompanying him on his gym journey.

Though your storage isn’t so pleased.

‘’but I just don’t like violence, especially if it's jungkook. I don’t want him to get hurt’’

‘’girl be serious jungkook would never let someone whoop his ass, he’d rather die’’

She’s so right.

‘’and its kinda hot having someone wanting to fight another person for you’’ Willoe blushes at the thought ‘’Jimin once punched a guy who was flirting with me, and I’ve never fucked him harder’’ She looks lost in the thoughts ‘’It was one of the reasons I kept in touch with him. I love possessive men’’ you chuckle as you watch the blood go to her cheeks.

You know Willoe is into those kinds of things.

And that’s one of the things that makes you two different. You don’t like men who do that kind of thing, even though you get where it's coming from. It's unattractive to you.

And that’s one reason you’ll never attend Jungkook’s boxing training sessions. It would kill you to see someone hit Him, even If it’s not serious.

‘’anyway, how’s Jimin? Haven’t talked to him this week’’

‘’yeah, same. He’s been busy lately so he promised me a date to make up for it.’’

You watch her blush at the mention of Jimin, she always does.

You love how they work together. It makes you feel so happy to see her happy and be with someone like Jimin who treats her right.

But it just makes you think of your lacks, when or where were you going to find someone who would love you like Jimin loves Willoe.

‘’god, when will I meet someone like Jimin’’

‘’you will, you just need to open your eyes’’

‘’my eyes have been open and all I can see is bullshit’’

Willow laughs almost choking on her second coffee, you’ve barely touched your first. She’s a coffee addict anyway, so you can’t compete.

‘’Don't worry yn someone will come around’’

You roll your eyes ‘’well I’m done waiting for that one person’’ you feel yourself tense at the thought of being alone forever.

‘’I’ll send you some lavender and chamomile to calm you down’’

Maybe it's time to get into the herbs she’s been recommending.

You’ve now been tuning out Jimin’s lecture for a minute. You don’t even know how his consolidation turned into him giving a speech on how to find someone who cares about you, and how you should take a break from dating and ‘’find yourself’’. Whatever the fuck that means.

Most of the time you think you and Jimin are similar, and share the same ideas and beliefs. But maybe it's just the means of saying them that differ.

You’ve missed Jimin and the last thing you want to talk about is Yunho. You’d rather catch up and laugh around.

It's best to get it over with right now anyway. So you let your ears bleed as he speaks.

‘’and that’s why I didn’t like him in the first place....’’ he rumbles on. The red button seems so far away. Your fingers twitch to press it.

Jimin isn’t the most talkative person, you give that title to Willoe. But once he starts to talk he doesn’t seem to stop.

You need a fucking savior right now.

‘’yn are you hearing me’’ he asks from your lack of response.

‘’yeah jimin, well and clear.’’ Lies. You’ve been tuning him out, he could’ve changed the topic and you wouldn’t know.

‘’Good’’

You groan.

In a second after your plea, your savior finally shows.

‘’jimin can I call you later jungkook is calling’’

‘’jungkook? Tell him you’re busy. I’m talking to you’’

‘’I would but I think it's important and you know how whiny he gets’’

‘’alright then I’ll call you later, tell him to stop ignoring my calls too’’ you hum in acknowledgement and nod.

‘’okay bye’’ you click so fast he doesn’t get to respond.

‘’my fucking saviour’’ you say immediately after Jungkook’s call is accepted. He’s a little confused by your abruptness but takes it anyway.

You watch the confusion on his face with a smile.

‘’thank you?’’

‘’is that a question’’

‘’yeah, I just don’t know where it's coming from’’ you watch him fix his hoodie.

‘’you’re my fucking savior, what don’t you get?’’ for a second, he thinks you're talking about Yunho, but if it was about him the last thing, you’d be doing is thanking him. ‘’you just saved me from a jimin lecture’’

He makes a face of realization, he sees you don’t seem to know about Yunho.

Like on cue, Jimin’s text pops up.

Minnie Boy: I know you didn’t want to hear what I was saying, but please consider taking a break for yourself.

Minnie boy: And I promise to not bring it up again.

You giggle at his text, he knows you so well, that maybe you will consider taking his advice.

You: I hope you know I appreciate your advice and I will consider it. Thanks, Minnie.

‘’what was he saying?’’ jungkook’s velvety voice pulls you back to him.

‘’It was about Yunho’’

He lets out a hum, understanding that he gave you one hell of a lecture.

There’s a little comfortable silence as you and jungkook just watch each other.

‘’About that. How are you doing?’’

‘’I guess I’m okay, you guys have made a easier for me”

Jungkook’s happy to hear that.

‘’I appreciate it’’

‘’we’re you’re friends we’ll always be here for you’’

he sounds so sentimental it makes your heart throb.

‘’how about you? how are you doing?’’ you change your position.

Laying on your back with your phone above you. you watch jungkook turn his eyes away.

‘’I’m doing okay, just working and stuff’’

You nod.

‘’and how about the date thing have you thought about it’’

Jungkook will probably never hear the end of it. He runs a hand through his dark hair which seems to be growing longer and longer.

‘’about that, I don’t want to’’

Your glare would probably teleport you to him and smack him if it could.

‘’what do you mean you don’t want to?’’ you sit up and jungkook sighs disappointedly with the position change.

‘’I mean, you’re not doing well, and the last thing I want to be thinking of looking for a girlfriend’’

You roll your eyes.

‘’This is why I don’t like letting you know things, you get so worried and forget about yourself’’

You’re not wrong and he knows it, but he doesn’t find a problem with it.

‘’I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me’’ he watches you talk.

It’s so hard for him not to worry about you when you don’t seem to be telling him the truth about if you’re truly okay. You’re saying it but he doesn’t believe it.

You continue to express how you’re okay and he needs to find someone for himself instead of spending his days worrying about you.

He can’t help but think about whether he should tell you Yunho was cheating or not, he doesn’t want to hurt you. Cause that news would kill you.

But keeping it to himself feels like it will do more harm.

But it won’t hurt you if you never find out, all you have to do is never talk to Yunho again and he trusts you can do that.

‘’okay yn if you want to so badly find me a blind date’’ he says after you suggest it for a millionth time.

You’re shocked by his acceptance but also excited.

‘’and I will. Get your suit jacket ready 'cause jungkook you’re going on a date ’ you mimic the voice of dating show presenters.

‘’I'll be waiting’’ he chuckles out watching you smile.

A/n: I don't know why the prologue is so long.😭

Feedback is appreciated.

#fanfic #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jeon jungguk #jungkook x y/n #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fiction #jeon jeongguk #jeon jeongkook #jeongguk

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laviefantasie · 2 months

Text

When Emma Falls In Love…

Pairings: Gojo Satoru x Reader

Summary: If there was one thing Satoru was thankful for, it was you.

| Masterlist |

They say it is incredibly rare to find someone that cares about you without another agenda. One that wants to see you achieves your hopes and dreams. One that encourages you to grow and is right by your side throughout each and every mess. One who does not define love with an ‘if’ or a ‘because’, but with an ‘in spite for’ and an ‘even though’. One that is brave enough to love unconditionally, without ever expecting anything in return; one that just gives.

The world has approximately 8 billion people in it and yet, to love or be loved unconditionally is a once in a blue moon occurrence.

Y/L/N Y/N knew this.

She has always known that love is a serendipity. Something fortuitous. She has always known that it is the greatest curse of all; that loving is giving the other person a gun and have them point it at you, allowing them to decide if you live or die.

Yet, she has also always known that everything that can be considered a curse can be considered a blessing, all depends on the point of view.

So, Y/N has never closed herself off to the idea of love. But she has never looked for it either.

To be honest, even if she wanted to look for it (which she doesn’t) she wouldn’t have the opportunity (nor the choice) to do so. Not when she was a Jujutsu Sorcerer from the Y/L/N clan. Not when she was the heiress of said clan.

She didn’t have choices when it came to trivial things like love. She was set to marry as soon as she graduates to start producing another heir, to make sure to pass her family’s curse technique. She had always known this. She had always been taught about it.

So… why was this happening now?

Why was she ignoring Yaga-sensei’s lesson to stare at her white-haired doofus childhood friend/classmate?

And why was her heart beating so loud?

A paper ball hits the back of her head, startling her. Turning in her seat, Y/N meets the nonchalant eyes of her best friend, Ieiri Shoko. Said girl gestures with her eyes to the paper on the floor, so with a fleeting glance at her teacher Y/N bends to pick it up.

[ Why are you staring at Tweedledee over there? ]

Y/N winces slightly as soon as she reads the message. Hurrying to hide it in her notebook, even if there was no one close enough to read it.

Damn Shoko and her intuition.

Deciding to ignore her best friend, Y/N stares straight ahead at her teacher. Physically restraining herself every single time her eyes dared to try to gaze at her white-haired friend.

When class finally ends, Y/N tries to pick her stuff up as soon as possible, hoping to be able to outrun her curious best friend.

But, of course, she was naive for thinking she could.

“Someone’s in a hurry” Shoko’s unbothered sweet voice states from her side, “Wonder why”

Y/N closed her eyes in defeat before opening them to look at the amused eyes of her best friend.

“Now, will you answer my—?”

“Y/N!”

The loud and excited voice of the boy Y/N had spend most of the class staring at startled them both. And soon they are joined by their two other classmates.

The problematic duo. The strongest boys: Tweedledum and Tweedledee, known also as Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru.

The white-haired beauty rests his arm on Y/N’s shoulder as soon as he comes to her side, Geto mimicking his actions with Shoko. Both of them smirking.

“What are you girls whispering about?” Satoru asks with amusement, “Is it about me?”

Shoko scoffs, “In your dreams”

“How’d you know?”

Geto rolls his eyes, “Ignore him. We wanted to ask you both if you wanted to go to Tokyo, there’s this cafe we want to try”

“Sure” Y/N nods, “We should ask Nanami and Haibara if they want to join us”

Satoru groans loudly as soon as the words leave her mouth, and pushes most of his body weight onto her, making her almost lose her balance.

“I refuse”

Suguru lets out a big laugh after his best friend’s words while Shoko only looks totally amused, as if she had already expected that.

Y/N, on the other hand, looks at Satoru with a frown.

“You refuse? Why would you refuse?”

“Because”

“What do you mean ‘because’?”

“Because”

Y/N narrows her eyes before looking at her other friends for answers, but both of them just smile at her, totally amused by the scene happening in front of them.

“One reason. Give me one reason and I’ll agree”

Satoru shrugs his shoulders, “I don’t like sharing”

“Huh?”

Satoru doesn’t wait for her to try to decipher his statement, instead he grabs her bag before pushing her so she starts walking.

“You said to give you a reason, there it is” he pushes her once more “Now, move”

She does as told, even when her mind still works to try to understand what he said. Either way, as soon as they are all out of their school’s barrier said statement is forgotten. After-all, Satoru had always said vague things like that to her ever since they met, nothing worth frying her brain for.

Okay, something was really wrong with her. Not only had she spent all of last month staring at Gojo Satoru every single day whenever he was close, but now she was glaring at said boy while he flirted with a non-sorcerer.

Why the hell was she glaring? Why was she even looking at them? Satoru flirting wasn’t a new occurrence, on the contrary, it was a daily event. For Satoru flirting was as natural and as necessary as breathing, so why was she so bothered by it right now? It’s not as if she had never witnessed it before, so why did it mattered now?

Why was her chest aching so annoyingly? Why did she feel so nauseous when she had barely touched her food? Why couldn’t she drift her gaze away from them?

Y/N clenched her hands shut, forcing herself to look at her food. Why was it so hard to do something as simple as that? Why did her chest hurt enough that she had to remind herself to do something as natural as breathing?

“Not hungry?”

She moves her gaze from her food to the reason behind her inner turmoil who had finally seemed to remember he came here with her, not with the pretty blonde non-sorcerer he was just speaking to.

“Uh…” she fleetingly looks at her untouched full plate, “Not really”

Satoru frowns, “Do you feel okay?”

Breathe in. Breathe out, she reminds herself.

Why was it that she suddenly felt like crying? Was it because he was looking at her with such sincere worry? Or was it because he had lowered his round sunglasses to really look at her with those mesmerizing blue eyes so he could make sure she was okay?

What was wrong with her?

"Uh—I…Jus—Can we go back?" she stammers, "I don't feel really good"

Satoru’s frown deepens, but he nods and soon both of them are making their way back to their school. In complete silence.

As soon as Y/N makes it back to the security of her dorm, she doesn’t waste a single second. She hurries to lock her door and to close her blinds, grabbing her phone as fast as possibly and dialing her mother’s number.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

She needed answers or she would lose her mind, and the only person who she knew could give her those was the one she trusted the most: her mom.

“Honey?” She hears her mom’s sweet and soft voice as she answers, “You good? You never call”

“I…”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“Something is wrong” she whispers.

“What’s going on?”

What was going on? That was a hard question. And so she explained, as best as she could. And her mom listened, silently and patiently. Never interrupting her, even when she was stammering and rambling all over the place.

As the words leave her lips in hurried whispers, her feet pace around her room anxiously.

“Oh, honey”

Maybe it was the understanding in her mother’s voice or maybe the softness in her pet name, but it was then that she understood.

“I’m not in love”

But, oh, how ironic. It was the moment the words left her mouth, the moment she tried to convince her mom (or maybe herself) of it, that she understood it.

She was in love with one of her best friends.

Her feet stop pacing. Her heart stops beating. Her breath slows down and her knees tremble. All adrenaline leaving her abruptly.

She has to force herself to move to her bed so she can sit before her body gives up on her.

“Oh” she whispers, “Oh”

“Yeah, oh” her mom responds, “So, the one blessed with the six eyes?”

“Satoru” she whispers as a reflex, used to having to remind a lot of sorcerers around them that Satoru is more than just that.

“Satoru” her mom repeats, “What is he like now? I haven’t seen him in a long time”

“Uh, well… he is something else, definitely” she whispers softly, “He is kind and loyal. Also funny. Although, he has a huge ego… uh, he—kinda a womanizer”

Breathe in. Breathe out.

“He is a womanizer” she repeats, as if reminding herself, “Never one to settle down. Gets bored pretty easily of people. Things he’s above all that—romance, I mean. He’s not really serious about anything, so commitment is out of the question. Doesn’t really trust people with his feelings, so that’d be a problem, right? And—”

“Honey,” her mom interrupts, “sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself about how this could end up going wrong without even trying first”

Huh.

So that’s what she’s doing.

Everything changed after the call with her mom. Everything changed once she finally understood what was truly going on with her. How could it not when she was never one to hide her feelings? Always wearing her heart on her sleeve, never knowing how to hide the light in her e/c eyes.

Everyone noticed and she constantly scolded herself for it. Yet, she couldn’t help it.

She couldn’t stop herself from looking at Satoru as if he hung in the air like the stars in outer space, brighter than the moon itself. She couldn’t stop herself from smiling every time their eyes met nor the way her eyes lit up.

But just as she couldn’t stop herself from expressing how she felt, Satoru couldn’t force himself to reciprocate her feelings.

Satoru had never been one to believe in love. He, as she did, believed love to be the worst curse of them all. But, contrary to her belief, he could never even think of the possibility of it being a blessing. So, even when his attitude towards her never change, there was this new wall built between them that kept her far enough to never reach his heart.

She didn’t need to confess for him to know her feelings.

He didn’t need to reject her for her to know his.

They had always been close, since the moment they met when they were six. They had always understood each other without the need to explain themselves, and maybe it was because of the way their cursed techniques were interlaced but it didn’t matter to them.

Both always knew where the other stood.

Y/N knew Satoru wasn’t ready for the love she felt for him. Didn’t even know if he’d ever be ready for it. But she had no intention of falling in love with anyone else, at least not at the moment. So, whenever he’s ready, she’d be there.

He was her first love. He had forever changed her and she knew no matter how hard she tried, that wouldn’t go away.

So, for now, she was content with how little he gave her. She was content with how careful he was with her feelings even when he had no intention of reciprocating them.

So, when did everything change?

There were only four known special grade sorcerers so far in Japan: Tsukumo Yuki, Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, and Y/L/N Y/N. Although Tsukumo is not associated with Jujutsu High, so the only sorcerers that Yaga would entrust a mission as important as the one of the Star Plasma Vessel are the three special grades in his care.

“Escort the vessel and erase her?” Satoru asks.

Geto and Y/N share a look before focusing once again on their teacher, who confirms the mission. Not even a second later, Suguru and Satoru start whispering about Yaga losing his mind making the only girl present roll her eyes.

By the end of the conversation, the three best friends were on babysitting duty of the girl meant to reset master Tengen’s cursed technique.

Y/N receives her cold black tea from Satoru’s hands before they start making their way once again to the location of the Star Plasma Vessel, all while Suguru tries to answer each of Satoru’s questions.

“Anyways, it should be okay” Satoru shrugs, “We’re the strongest”

Y/N scoffs a laugh, while Suguru sighs and tries to explain to Satoru how he should start dialing down his narcissistic tendencies.

“Sheesh, give me a break” Satoru groans, “Y/N likes me the way I am, right?”

Her eyes widen and a blush soon makes home in her cheeks, making her turn her face away from him to avoid his amused smile.

“Uh—I…”

An explosion saves her from answering, although she isn’t sure she’d rather deal with that. Maybe that’s when everything started truly going downhill.

It didn’t take long for the three of them to take action and defeat the Q workers, saving the girl they learned was Amanai Riko. The young girl was a firecracker that had made Y/N laugh after she slapped Satoru and insulted Suguru. Maybe things would’ve been better if she hadn’t been so innocent and likable; if she hadn’t been so young and pure.

But things hadn’t been better. Honestly, things couldn’t have gone more wrong.

She wishes they’d stayed in Okinawa. All of them had been so at peace there. All of them had so much fun. They had gone to the beach after rescuing Amanai’s caretaker, where Satoru had run to the water with Y/N on his grasps while ignoring her screams. They had eaten and joked around before going to the aquarium.

Maybe she should’ve stopped Satoru from staying awake that night, maybe she should’ve made him rest for some time instead of deciding to make him company before falling asleep on his shoulder. Maybe then things would’ve been different.

But Y/N had done none of that and now she was staring at the consequences.

Satoru was just stabbed in front of her, just after they crossed the barrier around Jujutsu High that protected them.

Y/N had never wanted more to fully dominate her cursed technique. Never had she ever wanted to understand the depth behind the intricate time manipulation cursed technique her family possessed that made them the Gojo clan’s greatest ally. She possessed one of the most powerful known cursed techniques, one that could make her an equal to Satoru, yet she had never truly bothered with anything below the surface.

Not even when her father had explained to her the greatness she was destined to achieve. Not when, like Satoru, her birth had change the world.

She had never wanted to be exceptional, she had always just wanted to be strong enough to protect those she loved. Acquiring her cursed techniques full depth came with a great sacrifice. One she had never been willing to pay.

But now?

Now she’d pay the price without a second thought. What did it matter if she’d have to suffer through the pain of her eyes bleeding until her irises and pupils turned completely white? What did it matter if her lifetime shall shorten with every time she fooled destiny? What would it matter if she’d have to live with the possibility of losing her mind at any moment, never distinguishing the difference between the past, the present or the future again?

She would do it. She would do it without a second thought if that meant not staring at Satoru in the eyes as he orders her to follow Suguru, to leave him behind, as he bleeds.

She shakes her head.

She wasn’t leaving him, not with whoever that man was. She could feel he was dangerous, she didn’t know how she knew it but she did.

Y/N would never forgive herself if she left him behind.

“You have to trust me, Y/N” Satoru’s smile softens, “Trust me”

She shouldn’t have turned around, but she did. She trusted him with her life, so she had to trust him with his own.

She’d never trust him like that again.

Blood flows from her mouth as she lays face down on the floor, wounds all over her body as Fushiguro Toji stares down at her.

“So this is the Y/L/N pride” he murmurs, “Aren’t you supposed to be strong? The Gojo’s Six Eyes biggest ally or something like that? That’s the story, isn’t it? The space and time techniques are supposed to coexist with one another according to the legend of the Six Eyes and the Blind One, am I wrong?”

Y/N coughs out blood, her gaze blurring.

“At least he put up a fight” he scoffs, “You were doing so well until I told you I killed him”

She flinched at the reminder, making him scoff once again.

“The Blind One that sees all” he scoffs in disbelief, “What a joke. Let’s end this here, agree?”

He stabs her once more, forcing her to cough out even more blood before forcing the blade to go from her lower back to the back of her neck.

“You’re no threat with how little control you have over your cursed technique” he murmurs, “but waiting for you to become one is not an option. It was to meet you, let’s never do this again”

She tried to stay awake, tried to remember everything Shoko had ever taught her about reverse cursed technique, but her mind was too out of it to form any coherent thought. Maybe that was how she was meant to die, after all her life had always been intertwined in a way with Satoru’s, so if he was gone what was the point of her being there at all?

Her eyes closed, yet she kept breathing.

Her mind was fuzzy, yet like a mantra the names of every single person she loved repeated themselves over and over again.

That’s when she felt it happen.

Her eyes open wide and a painful scream, strong enough to tear her vocal cords, left her body. Blood started pouring out of her eyes as the e/c and black in them starts being burnt away as if the water in her eyelids was acid.

She had never felt pain like this. It felt as if her eyes were being stabbed by a hundred needles over and over again. And when it finally stopped, and her body started healing herself once again, she understood every word her father had ever uttered to her about their powerful cursed technique.

So this is what it means to be blessed and cursed. To give more time as you lose your own. She had felt herself dying, yet her own cursed technique sent her body back in time, to when she hadn’t yet been hurt. Even as hours of her future self were taken from her for cheating death, she could still see it. It was crystal clear in her mind, as if it was a scene she had seen in a movie.

So that’s what her father meant when he told her she could lose herself to the past, the present, the future, and all its endless possibilities?

That was meant to be her world from now on.

“Y/N”

She blinks once. Twice. Thrice. Before pushing herself to a kneeling position so she could move her gaze to the source. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t be.

Yet it was. She knew it. It wasn’t one of the possibilities on the multiverses she could see.

Even with her eyesight lost, she could sense his cursed technique. He could visualize him by the way his cursed technique lit up his body shape.

He was here. He was alive.

“Stand up” he tells her, “ Amanai is dead. We failed”

Her knees tremble as she forces herself to stand. How could he be so calm? How could his voice sound so devoid of emotion? She wishes she could truly see him, she always used to know what he was feeling with just one look.

Things were gonna be different now.

It started with little changes. First, Y/N had to return to her clan immediately to train her technique. She had to learn to control what she saw before frying her brain. She had to also learn to dominate reverse curse technique.

She wasn’t just a normal time cursed user like the rest of her clan, it wasn’t just freezing or slowing your opponent anymore. A touch from her could now age, could kill. A touch from her could now rebirth, could save.

She was now a weapon. A shield. More importantly, she was the strongest right hand. Space and time always cohabiting with each other.

When she finally came back to school, everything had already changed too much and she couldn’t even bother herself with adapting to the changes, too trouble by the different dreams of the different future outcomes. Of all the choices that hadn’t yet been made but could be, of all their consequences.

She didn’t remember the last time she had spent some time with her best friends, the only person she spent time with lately being Satoru. Satoru, who for some reason she didn’t bother to analyze, always seek her when he finally had time off from a mission. Never leaving her side unless he really had to.

All of them had forever been changed after their failed mission. So, when was it enough?

She hadn’t been there to see Suguru slowly start to lose himself, too focused on Satoru and herself to notice the little clues laid in front of her of the future she had seen yet refused to believed.

Then, she had seen Haibara’s dead body.

She tried to stop it then. Hoping, wishing, it wasn’t too late. She had run to him that night, meeting him on the courtyard of their school as he smoked the night away.

“Please don’t”

He didn’t look at her. Barely inhaled a smoke before letting his gaze fall from the moon, as if its light was too much for him.

“I don’t know what you’ve seen, but I’m not planning anything”

“I know you’re not” she whispers “but I also know what you’ll see. Please don’t leave us behind”

His dark saddened eyes turn to look at her, really look at her and her breath hitches. One of the things she loathes about being able to see the past is the new perspectives she has of those around her. She had always been living her life as the Earth, always rotating around her sun. Never bothering to look at the moon, that always rotated around her.

Satoru was her sun, but Suguru had quietly always been her moon. And she had never once noticed before.

While she was too busy staring lovestruck at Satoru, Suguru had stared at her. But he had always been selfless, and he has always been happy with just gazing from afar, just like she was always happy only staring at Satoru.

This new depth in her technique made it painfully obvious for her the softness in which he gazed at her, even with all the sadness and conflict he carried in them he could still gaze at her with that particular softness. It made her heart ache.

“I would never leave you behind”

It sounded like a promise to anybody else, but to her it was like a blade to her heart. It was one more step to the future she so wanted to avoid.

She sat by his side that night, giving him the comfort of her presence.

On September, he went on the mission to exorcise a spirit to blame for the mysterious deaths and disappearances on a village.

That day he killed 112 villagers. On that day, he was sentenced to execution on sight as a curse user.

She was the first one to arrive when Shoko called, and the smile he gave her was all she needed to confirm her greatest fear. Her heart bled once she saw the soften in his gaze as he saw her, never wavering.

“I’m sorry I have to leave you behind” he whispered once they were far enough from Shoko, “I don’t want to, but I know you won’t follow me”

“We can fix this. I can fix this”

She could. She had the power to. She would do it if he asked, even if it cost her half of her lifetime.

“I don’t want you to” he whispered softly, “I want you to live a long and full life, not to sacrifice it for my own choices”

“You promised…”

“I know, that’s my only regret” he smiled, “You look beautiful. You are beautiful, I’m sorry I never said it before”

“Suguru…”

Both of them stopped as soon as they felt the curse energy of the only one missing from their group.

“Explain yourself, Suguru”

His smile faltered. He looked at her one last time, softly and full of adoration.

“Don’t let him hurt you” he whispered, “Thank you for everything”

And then, Suguru turned around to face his best friend before leaving them all behind. Before leaving everything he once believed in behind.

“What are you doing here?”

It was around 2 am when a knock on your door had woken you up, the last thing you had expected was to see Satoru’s aura on the other side. Since Suguru’s departure your best friend had started going to even more missions then before, making it impossible for you to actually see him for more than a few minutes.

You hadn’t really expected to see him soon, much less at the current time.

“May I come in?”

His tone is low, with no hint of a joke in it, which makes you open your door wide enough for him to cross without hesitating in the slightest.

Honestly, he could ask anything from you and you’d give it to him. No questions asked.

She feels him move to the middle of her room as she closes the door, his feet drawing circles on the floor showing the anxiety he must be feeling.

“I didn’t know you were back”

“I just came” he murmurs, “I’m sorry for barging in, I just—I needed to see you”

Y/N’s breath hitches and her heart throbs loudly in her chest. It was weird, the feeling of drowning that she had become so familiar with was slowly disappearing, as if just the sound of his voice was enough to remind her how to swim. Enough to help her breathe again.

She had been alone all this time. Shoko had been dealing with the abandonment in her own way by herself, only coming to her when the loneliness became too much. When that happened, Y/N had to ignore her own broken pieces to help hold those of her best friend. And once she was sure Shoko was well enough to go back to her own cave, she was left alone to take on both of their pain to bear it all by herself.

She wasn’t one to walk away, not unless she absolutely had to leave. But all she had needed all this time was to hear Satoru’s voice to remember the strength she possessed.

“You wanna lay down?”

He sees his aura move towards her bed, making her know he agreed to her suggestion.

With a deep breath, Y/N moves to join him. It wasn’t the first time they had ever slept on the same bed, they had tons of sleepovers as kids.

But this was different. They were older and wiser. They knew pain firsthand now. They also knew what the other really meant to one another, and how precious each moment together truly was. How ephemeral everything could be.

So as Satoru pulled her closer to him as he hugged her from behind, both of them felt the tension they had been carrying leave their bodies.

After so long, Satoru finally felt at peace once again. The void that had been his heart all this time felt completed. He could finally breathe without feeling something pushing against his chest.

That was the first time in a while he truly slept.

There truly was no reason for Y/N to love him, so Satoru didn’t understand how he had gotten so lucky. After Haibara’s death and Suguru’s betrayal, after Nanami’s abandonment, Satoru truly didn’t think he was someone worth staying for.

But Y/N never once left his side. Never even thought about it. It didn’t matter that she had spent ten years loving him without even a glimpse of him reciprocating said feelings, she had stayed.

He loved her, he truly did. He just didn’t know what being in love meant or felt like, so he couldn’t say he was in love with her. All he knew, as he stared at her right now while she said her goodbye to Yuta, was that knowing her had changed his whole world.

He had once asked her a few years back why she loved him. She had stayed quiet for a few minutes before finally answering in her soft voice that she reserved just for him.

“You just know. There doesn’t have to be a particular reason. I don’t think you need a reason to love someone, your heart chooses them before your mind even has a say. It’s something you can’t really control, it just takes over you. It hits you when you least expect it. You feel alive, you feel better; I don’t think it’s something anybody will truly understand, and they don’t have to. It’s not something meant to be understood by others, only by your heart”

He hadn’t said anything after her. Hadn’t even smiled or nodded. All he had done was stare at her and repeat every single word in his mind over and over again, until they had been engraved in his memory.

Those words were repeated like a mantra whenever he needed something to give him hope, something to fight for.

Those words along with the memories of the hundreds of nights they looked for refugee in each other’s arms were the inhaler that helped him breathe. He had never truly known what a real home felt like until she had held him with so much care, care he hadn’t ever truly known; care that made him feel like a kid needing to be cared for instead of the strongest everybody expected him to be.

He was grateful for her. For every time she made him feel loved and appreciated. For every moment she stared at him as if he was the moon and the stars and the whole galaxy. For helping him raise Tsumiki and Megumi without ever complaining about it. For helping him mend his broken heart even when the broken pieces scarred her hands until they bled.

He didn’t know if he was in love with her, he just knew that he did love her with all his heart and soul.

And as she finally started walking towards him after letting go of Yuta, with her bright smile that made her whitened eyes crinkle, it finally hit him. She was the person he wanted to come home to every night. The person he wants to tell about his day. The person to share his happiness, his sadness, his success and his failures with.

Everything was better with her. Everything had been better since her, because of her.

She who had loved the parts of him that were not easy to love. For turning the pages in his book gently, and helping him rewrite a happy ending to his tragic narrative.

Y/N was like a book the you couldn’t put down once you pick it up. The kind of girl that would make every bad boy turn good. A shelter for his heart when it rained. A breath of fresh air whenever he felt like drowning.

She was everything and so much more and he truly didn’t know how to tell her. He was never good at expressing how he felt, he was of an acts of service guy. So how could he show you how much you truly meant to him? How much he really needed you? How much he loved you?

“…ru. Satoru. Satoru!” His gaze snaps towards you, seeing you look at him with amusement, “I’ve been calling you nonstop. A penny for your thoughts?”

Don’t ever stop smiling at me. Don’t ever stop looking at me. Don’t ever leave me.

“Ready to go home?”

He can see the confused frown on her face, but her smile is never wiped and that gives him hope of her understanding the underlying message on his words.

Home was wherever she was. So wherever she went, he would follow. He wanted to go home with her, because he wanted to hold her and never let her go. He wanted to be the reason for her smiles and the ones she chose to share her laughs with.

He wanted everything.

“Let’s go home, ‘toru”

He may have been cursed since birth, but it was all worth it if he had you.

[[ Really not my best work but my first Gojo One-Shot. Hope you all like it! I’m open to requests. Thank you for reading!!]]

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