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lendeah · 3 months

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Three times you take care of Astarion and one time he takes care of you

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You were a caring person. That much was clear from the first moment you let him drink off you, almost to death. It was also clear when you tried to cool Karlach down with a rainy spell so you could hug her. Or give Gale every piece of magic item in your inventory so he could eat it. You enjoyed taking care of people.

However, taking care of Astarion wasn't an easy task. As much as you wanted to be there for him and help him, the vampire was a difficult person to handle. He was like a wild animal, constantly on edge and ready to lash out. It soon became clear that Astarion wasn't used to being on the receiving end of caring. Wasn't used for someone to care at all.

So you went little by little, as to not startle him. You started by simply spending time with him. Patiently listening to his endless complaints and blatant flirting, offering a sympathetic ear and a playful response, respectively. It was clear that Astarion enjoyed your company, even if he didn't always show it. He would often make snarky comments or sarcastic remarks, but you could tell that deep down, he appreciated having someone around.

Of course, you let him drain you dry every night, which honestly left you sick and tired through the day, but it was worth the glint in his eyes and the way his cheeks seemed to light up as if he was alive again.

You couldn't help but notice; he always had a book in his hands. Whether you were at camp or out on an expedition, he was constantly reading. So you began collecting every book you stumbled upon and leaving them on his bedroll for him to find when he returned to his tent. No matter the genre- whether it was a history book, poetry or even erotica- you always gifted them to him.

The first times, he would search around the camp in confusion, wondering who had left them there for him. But after the fifth or sixth book, the vampire's expression would light up with a secretive smile as he eagerly flipped through the pages. It warmed your heart to see him so engrossed in a story, his curiosity evident in his shining eyes. However, you kept your identity hidden: if he knew it was you leaving the books, he might become wary again and you didn't want to risk it after coming this far. This went on for a few weeks until one day, as you were leaving another book, a voice called out from behind you.

"Well, hello there. I suppose the game is up."

You froze, the book still in your hands, as you turned around to see Astarion standing with a sly smile on his face.

"I... erm, I just found these books lying around and thought they might be yours," you said lamely.

He smirked, eyes narrowing as if he saw right through your excuses. "Funny, I don't recall owning any of these books you are holding."

You blushed, avoiding his gaze. "Oh...I must have made a mistake then."

But Astarion just shook his head, walking closer to you until he was within arm's reach. "You think I don't know what you're doing? You haven't exactly been subtle, sweetheart."

You felt your face heat up even more, the blush reaching your ears.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably as your voice came out a little squeaky.

Astarion chuckled. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I might suspect that you were trying to seduce me. If you wanted to come into my tent, all you had to do was ask, my dear."

"I-It... It's not like that!" you sputtered out, trying to avoid eye contact with him. "I just thought... you like reading."

"Oh, I do," Astarion said in a low voice. "Among other things."

You swallowed hard as your mind raced. Had he just... Was he implying what you thought he was implying?

"I-I should really get going," you said quickly, turning away from him and almost tripping over your own feet.

But before you could run off, Astarion's hand closed around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. "Wait," he said, his eyes locked onto yours. His expression was a bit serious, a stark contrast to the playful persona he usually wore. "Thanks for the effort. It's almost sweet, doing all this for me."

The two of you stood there for a moment longer before Astarion spoke up again.

"Perhaps we could have a little fun and read them together sometime?" he suggested with a raised eyebrow.

You smiled shyly at him, feeling butterflies in your stomach at his offer.

"I... I would love that," you said, trying to keep the excitement out of your voice.

Astarion's smile widened and he released your wrist. "Wonderful. I look forward to it, my dear. And I do hope the next book is a good one."

You walked away from his tent, trying to convince yourself that the thumping of your heart was simply due to your love for taking care of others.

With each passing day, your meetings with Astarion in his tent became a familiar routine. You allowed him to feed on you, then spent time reading together from the books you had collected for him. It was also a chance for you to study him closely, searching for any other way to care for him. One night, as he read aloud to you, the soothing sound of his voice lulled you into a peaceful slumber, curled up on his bedroll next to him. The next morning, as sunlight flooded the tent, you woke up to find Astarion already awake, holding a book in his hands.

"Good morning," you said, rubbing the sleep off your eyes. "Sorry I fell asleep here."

Astarion raised an eyebrow at you. "No need to apologize. I must say, you look quite lovely when you're sleeping. Although you do not sound that lovely, but well, we can't all be perfect."

You rolled your eyes, then sat up stretching your limbs. As you glanced around the room, your eyes landed on the book in his hand - the one you two had been reading last night. It was almost finished now.

"Wait, you haven't slept?"

He let out a soft laugh.

"My dear, I am an elf. We do not sleep; we trance. And to answer your inquiry, no, I did not partake in that either. It's not something I typically find enjoyable."

You looked at Astarion with confusion and concern. "But... why? Don't you need to rest?"

He gave a casual shrug. "If I enter into a trance, the only memories accessible to me are my own life experiences. And let me tell you, those are not pleasant memories."

"But isn't there a way for you to... just rest? Without the memories, I mean?" You asked.

Astarion smirked, his eyes still fixed on the book in his hands. "Why bother learning how to sleep when I can trance instead?" he quipped "Trancing has always been my preferred method anyway."

You couldn't imagine what it was like, being forced to relive your trauma over and over again every night.

"I’m so sorry, Astarion," you whispered, your voice barely above a hush.

He waved his hand dismissively. "Oh well," he said, "It's all in the past now, isn't it? Just another part of who I am."

You nodded slowly but you couldn’t shrug off his words as easily as he could. You recalled the way he looked when he was trancing - peaceful and unguarded. It was hard to imagine that behind those serene features he was being haunted by his memories.

The day was a blur, as you struggled to maintain a cheerful facade and engage in small talk. However, Astarion's words continued to haunt you. As the evening progressed and you both followed your usual nightly routine, you made a decision to do something.

"Astarion." He turned to you, a curious look on his face. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your courage."I think we could try something different tonight. Do you trust me?"

Astarion looked at you as though surprised by the question, a hint of amusement twinkling in his eyes.

"Trust is a strong word, darling," he replied, a smirk forming on his lips. "But yes, I suppose I do trust you."

"Good," you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart.

You cleared your throat as you settled into the bedroll, signaling for him to join you. Astarion raised an eyebrow but followed your lead, settling into the bedroll beside you.

"Rest your head on my lap," you instructed softly

Astarion's eyebrows shot up once more, but then he shrugged and followed your instructions. He cautiously rested his head on your lap, surprising you with his compliance. Sensing the tension in his body, you refrained from touching him yet, and instead reached for your bag. He watched you curiously as you took out a small jar.

"What's that?" he asked, his eyes glinting with intrigue.

"It's a special blend of herbs and oils that I use to help me relax and sleep better," you explained, opening the tub and taking out a small dab of the mixture. "Can I touch you?"

He seemed to hesitate for a few seconds, before he answered, "Yes you may."

You rubbed the mixture between your fingers before gently massaging it onto his temples and forehead. You could feel him tense under your touch, probably not used to this kind of contact.

"Does it help?" he asked quietly, his eyes closed.

"It helps me," you replied honestly. "I'm not sure if it'll have the same effect on you, but I figured it's worth a try."

He nodded, a small smile forming on his lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," you replied, smiling back down at him. "Now just close your eyes and try to relax. Let your thoughts drift you away."

Astarion blinked, his long lashes fluttering against his pale skin. He looked at you with a mix of surprise and skepticism, clearly hesitant to follow your lead. But he didn't protest, didn't push your hands away. Instead, he nodded slightly, closing his eyes once more.

You watched him closely, noticing how the tension in his jaw gradually subsided and the creases on his forehead smoothed out little by little. You continued gently massaging his temples, the rhythmic movements soothing both of you.

The change in his demeanor prompted a fluttering sensation in your stomach that you hastily shrugged away, reminding yourself not to read too much into it.

Eventually, you started running your fingers through his hair and Astarion let out a contented hum, adjusting himself slightly in response. You could have sworn he was purring, and it seemed like he had fallen into a deep slumber.

By the end of the night, you were asleep with your hands still gently stroking his head.

From that moment, a subtle tension seemed to linger between the two of you. It was unspoken, but present every time you were alone together. Astarion would ask for your help to fall asleep each night, and without fail, he would drift off quickly and sleep soundly. You loved watching him relax under your touch, feeling his body go limp and his soft sleepy sounds. But more than that, you enjoyed drifting off with your fingers tangled in his soft curls, your heart feeling light and at ease in his presence.

However, the perils of your journey became worse as your party reached the Underdark. Your main concern became avoiding attacks from shadow monsters, leaving little room for any attention to whatever connection was building between you two.

One night, as you approached Astarion's tent, you noticed him sitting cross-legged in front of his small mirror. His brow was furrowed and his expression was one of deep contemplation. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should disturb him or not.

"Looking at something?" he suddenly asked.

You jumped slightly at the sound of his voice, not expecting him to break the silence.

"How did you see me?"

"The only benefit to a mirror when you have my condition. It doesn't quite make up for the lack of a reflection, mind you."

And then it clicked. He couldn't see his own reflection. Why hadn't it occurred to you before?

"Do you miss it? Your own face, I mean."

Of course he did, what a stupid question.

"Preening in the Looking Glass? Petty vanity?" Astarion scoffed, "Of course I miss it."

Astarion's tone was bitter, his gaze fixed on his reflection-less face in the mirror. You sat down next to him, mirroring his position.

"I've never even seen this face not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red"

So he hadn't seen his face in over 200 years. You couldn't imagine what that must feel like. To not have seen your own face in over two centuries. To be unable to remember how it even looked like.

After your conversation, ideas began to circulate in your mind. You considered asking Gale to use his magic to transform your appearance to match his, but that would only be temporary. You wanted something more permanent that would allow him to admire his own face whenever he pleased. The thought of enchanting his mirror so that it would reflect his image crossed your mind. Surely there had to be a spell for that. However, time was limited and you were unsure how much you could dedicate to the task anyway. Then, an answer presented itself at the Last Light Inn when you encountered an artist on your way.

"How long would it take for you to paint a portrait?"

"Like, a month?"

"I will pay you triple if you finish it in a week."

Although the artist was hesitant, the promise of triple payment was too tempting for him to turn down. And so, a week later, you returned to Astarion's tent with a canvas in hand. He arched an eyebrow in question.

"What is this?" Astarion asked, gesturing towards your offering. "Another gift? At this rate, my tent will be overflowing with your generosity."

You grinned and gently set the canvas on the floor in front of him. A delicate, sheer fabric covered its surface.

"This is a special one, though."

His eyes glossed over with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he leaned forward to unwrap it. An expectant silence filled the tent, the only sound being the rustle of fabric as he carefully lifted the veil. The sight that greeted his gaze left him momentarily speechless - an exquisitely painted portrait of a man, elegantly handsome with sharp, angular features and piercing red eyes.

"What is this?" Astarion asked with a chuckle, clearly admiring the artwork."You've given me a portrait of a handsome stranger? How thoughtful, dear. But the quality could be better, honestly."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you whispered, "That's you," holding your breath for his reaction.

There was a tense moment of silence as Astarion stared at the portrait. You couldn't quite read his expression, and your heart started to race with anxiety. Had you made a mistake? Was he displeased with the gift? Maybe you were intruding too much in his personal life...

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally spoke. "This is... me?" His voice was barely above a whisper, almost disbelieving.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes.

"Yes. I wanted you to have something that would allow you to see yourself again, so I asked an artist at the Last Light Inn to paint you."

His fingers traced over the painting, brushing lightly over the likeness of his own face, his own eyes - red now - but still his. He took a step back as if he'd been hit, staggering slightly. There was a moment where he just stood there, staring at the man in the portrait - at himself.

"Is this... is this how I look now?" He asks, voice barely audible.

You swallowed hard and nodded, "Yes."

"I..." he started, then stopped. Shaking his head, he turned towards you with a conflicted look in his red eyes. "I... don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," you told him reassuringly, reaching out to squeeze his hand.

He looked at you for a long moment before nodding and squeezing your hand back. A tear trickled down his cheek and he quickly wiped it away, but not before you saw it glistening in the dim light.

"Thank you," he said finally. It's quiet, almost lost in the silence of the tent, but the sincerity in his voice is unmistakable. You smiled at him, feeling a wave of relief and happiness wash over you.

"You're welcome," you whispered softly.

Astarion's crimson eyes shimmered with tears as he gazed at the painting, struggling to maintain his composure. You gave him a reassuring smile before turning around to give him some space to process his thoughts and feelings. But just as you were about to leave, he reached out and took hold of your hand, stopping you.

"Don't go" he said solemnly. "Please don't go... I'd like to... I want..." slowly, he stepped closer to you and wrapped his arms around you in a tight hug.

You were taken aback for a moment but then quickly melted into his embrace. After a moment of silence, the vampire spoke softly, his voice raspy.

"I don't know... how to repay you, I..." he murmured into your hair.

"You don't have to," you whispered back, feeling overwhelmed by his sudden display of emotion.

After what felt like an eternity, Astarion finally pulled away slightly so that he could look into your eyes. His eyes were moist with tears, but they also held a glimmer of hope, happiness. You couldn't help but smile back at him, feeling a wave of warmth spread throughout your body from the simple touch. And in that moment, you realized just how deeply you had fallen for this man. It wasn't just a matter of caring anymore; you were deeply and irrevocably in love with him.

And you would tell him, you decided. You would let him know that he didn't owe you anything because you had acted out of love. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline rushing through your veins. His eyes were still on yours, searching, questioning.

"Astarion...," you started, your voice soft and filled with emotion, "I need to tell you... I..."

However, just as you were about to spill your heart, the sound of someone calling for you pierced through the quiet atmosphere of the tent. With a sigh, you reluctantly untangled yourself from Astarion's arms.

"I'm afraid that's my cue."

He gave a silent nod, his eyes reflecting a mix of conflicting emotions.

"Sure, sure. Wouldn't want to interrupt your exciting duties as our esteemed leader."

You rolled your eyes with a small smile and got out of the tent. However, there was a feeling of disappointed and regret for not being able to express your true feelings to him. You made a mental note to tell him later when you had the chance.

But that night, Astarion didn't come to his bedroll. Nor the next one. Or the one following. You sensed he was putting some distance between you as if something had changed. He continued with his blatant flirting and sly remarks, of course. They just seemed... mechanical. Every time you tried to talk about your feelings, he would deflect or change the subject. Days turned into weeks and still nothing changed between you two. Astarion remained distant and aloof while you struggled with your own emotions, feeling confused and rejected.

One morning, you woke up with a heavy weight on your chest. You initially dismissed it as the usual feeling of sadness that had been lingering for a week now. But after a whole day of choking on your own breath and dizziness, mixed with a deep pounding in your head, you knew this wasn’t the case. Despite your condition, you pushed through the day, determined not to be seen as weak or unreliable by your group.

However, as time passed, it became increasingly difficult to hide your worsening state from everyone else. Your coughing spells were becoming more frequent, and your body was weakening rapidly. You could sense Astarion's worried stare on you from time to time, but he never approached you to inquire about your condition.

That all changed one morning when you couldn't even muster the strength to get out of bed. Your entire body was in pain and your fever was soaring. You heard footsteps approaching your bedrolls and prepared yourself for one of your companions coming to check on you (or more likely, tell you off). However, it was Astarion's smirking face that came into view.

"Well, well, well," he said with a teasing tone, "Seems like our fearless leader is not feeling so fearless anymore. Feeling lazy today, are we?"

You managed to roll your eyes, laying your arm back over them to shield from the morning sunlight peering in through a hole in the tent. "If by lazy you mean sick, then yes." Your voice was weak and raspier than usual. You coughed into your arm, the action causing your body to shake and shudder with discomfort.

"Hmm..." Astarion's voice was no longer teasing. "That doesn't sound good, darling."

His gaze was intense when he leaned down to press his hand against your forehead. You suppressed a shiver at the unexpected coolness it brought and tried to turn away from him. He didn't let you, pushing your hair away from your face with his other hand.

"You're burning up," he said, moving away from you but not before you saw the worry flash briefly in his eyes. He stood up abruptly and started pacing around your bedroll, "What can I do?" He asked more to himself than you.

"Nothing… I just need… rest..." You managed to respond before another coughing fit washed over you.

Astarion shook his head "I'm going to get Shadowheart and Halsin. They will know what to do."

Astarion hurried out of the tent, and surely a few minutes later he came back bringing your two companions. As Halsin handed you the potion and Shadowheart casted her healing spells, Astarion's hand brushed against yours briefly before pulling away.

"Thank you," you whispered weakly before passing out.

A few hours later, after resting and drinking more disgusting beverages than you could count, your fever had finally subsided a bit and your coughing fits were less frequent. Astarion stayed by your side through the whole ordeal, a comforting silhouette against the flickering candlelight. You closed your eyes and felt his cold hand soothingly stroke your forehead. The cool, comforting touch of his skin against yours was a relief from the fever heat radiating off your body.

"Feel any better?" Astarion asked, raising an eyebrow.

You attempted a smile, "Well, I'm not dead yet."

His lips twitched in response, a semblance of his usual smirk flickering across his handsome face. "Good. That would be inconvenient for my dietary needs."

Despite feeling weak and exhausted, you couldn't help but chuckle. It was a welcome distraction from the constant throbbing pain in your head and rattling chest.

He shifted awkwardly on his seat next to you, looking almost hesitant, before he started speaking again. "I... I was scared of losing you," he admitted, "And I have to confess something."

His usually confident and cocky demeanor was replaced with an almost childlike uncertainty.

"What is it?" You asked, your voice still weak but full of concern.

He sighed heavily before meeting your gaze.

"I had a nice simple plan; to manipulate your feelings so you'd never turn on me. And honestly, I thought it would be so easy, with you being so open, so eager to care for everyone..." He frowns, "But that is the thing. You are so kind, so thoughtful. No one's ever cared for me the way you have. And... I don't know how to handle it."

You reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it gently. "I understand," you said softly. "It's not easy to let someone take care of you, but you don't have to push me away. You deserve love and happiness just like everyone else."

He nodded, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. "I want to try," he said, determination flickering in his gaze. "I want to let you take care of me. And I want to take care of you, if you let me."

You smiled at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words.

"Of course. But first, I feel like I need to tell you something too." You took a deep breath before continuing, "I...I think I'm falling in love with you."

He looked at you puzzled, before letting out a loud laugh.

"Oh, my love. I already knew."

You were taken aback by his words. "What? You did?"

He rolled his eyes "Dear, you were hardly subtle about it. A portrait? Essential oils? Come on..."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response, feeling relieved and embarrassed all at once.

"I guess I'm not as sneaky as I thought," you said, shaking your head.

"But I'm not better." He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "I've been falling for you since the moment you started leaving books on my bedroll."

With that, he closed the distance between you and pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. It was like a spark igniting, sending waves of electricity through your body. In that brief moment, all the emotions and tensions that had been building between you seemed to dissipate into thin air. The softness of his lips against yours was like a warm embrace, melting away any doubts or fears you may have had.

When you both pulled away, you rested your forehead against his and whispered, "You are going to get ill now."

He chuckled, "How fortunate I am already dead then."

Yet, in that moment, the gleam of his eyes made him seem more alive than you had ever seen him.

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lemonlover1110 · 2 months

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 21] The Right Decision

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Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

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The rest of your trip runs smoothly. Thankfully, Satoru didn’t try to pull another stunt that made you want to gouge his eyes out. Ren is over the moon by going to the beach daily, going to new places to explore, trying new delicious food, and what matters the most, spending time with his mother and father. Sadly, his vacation can’t last forever.

Ren is gloomy the day before you’re supposed to leave, begging you and his father to stay a little longer. Satoru wants to say yes, and he would in a heartbeat if he didn’t have to work. As much as it pains him, he can’t give up everything to be a father. The next best solution is wait for Ren to leave you alone for a minute just to ask,

“How about I extend your vacation for another week? I’ll leave, and Sayo probably won’t stay either. Just you and Ren.” And it’s tempting. You really want to say yes, but you also want to go back and resolve other issues. Plus, Ren is getting accustomed to getting whatever he wants, and you’re worried that he might become more like his father which is something that you definitely don’t want.

“We can come back some other time. It’s about time I go home.” You answer, and he nods in response. And as selfish as it sounds, Satoru is happy that you declined because he hates the idea of spending a week without seeing his son. It’s crazy to think that he lived a whole life before Ren, and the moment the little boy came into his life, Ren became everything to Satoru.

“Alright… Guess we have to make the most out of today so Ren cheers up.” Satoru says, glancing at his baby boy who’s plopped down on the couch, lamenting himself because he has to leave soon. Unluckily for everyone, it’s a rainy day outside.

“There’s really not much we can do.” You tell him, and Satoru sighs. He wishes there was something he could do to make the sun come out, but no amount of money can control that. Satoru ponders, wondering what he can do to cheer his son up.

“I got it.” His eyes light up, and he runs upstairs. You furrow your brows in confusion before walking over to sit beside Ren. Your hand runs up and down his back, attempting to soothe him.

“I don’t wanna go home. I like it here.” He kicks his feet into the couch, and you make sure to keep your distance. Ren doesn’t want to go home, he likes it here. He’s with both of you the entire day, and you’re giving him all of your attention, how can he not like it? He knows the moment you go back, things will go back to normal. He’s gotten used to this, he doesn’t want to go back to normal.

“We have to, Ren. Your granny and grammy miss you, and I have to get back to my job.” You tell him, hoping that mentioning his grandmothers will make him reconsider. He loves them with all his heart, but truthfully, he prefers spending the entire day with you.

“I want to stay!” He yells, and a sigh escapes your lips as you pinch the bridge of your nose. He needs to let it out, you know he’s upset. But he shouldn’t be using his voice like that.

“We’re not coming back if you keep throwing a tantrum.” You warn him before standing up and going to your bedroom. You don’t want to yell at him, so removing yourself from the situation is the best thing to do. Ren is still going to throw his tantrum, and you can only talk about the situation after.

“I’m here!” You hear Satoru yell from the living room. You’re going to leave him to handle it, not making an effort to get up from bed. Until Satoru calls out your name, and you groan before getting up and walking over to the living room. You smile, seeing how Ren’s demeanor has changed, kneeling down on the floor in front of the coffee table, waiting for his father to open up the box that he brought down. “I remembered I had a board game here.”

“Is this the home you used to come to as a kid?” You ask, wondering why he has the board game with him. Satoru nods in response, sitting down beside the coffee table to open the old box.

He used to play this game with his dad after getting home from the beach. It’s a game that’s more fun when played with more than two people, but Satoru didn’t really have that option. Regardless, he still had fun with his dad. Growing up, the only time that Satoru actually spent with his parents was the little vacations that they had yearly. He has very fond memories of this place, and of the board game that he opens.

“I haven’t played this in years, I have to read the rules again.” Satoru can’t help but laugh as he takes out every piece. He remembers every time being so excited to tell you about the game, begging his father to take the game back home or buy a new one for his house so he could play with you, but both of them always forgot. Luckily, he gets to play with you for the first time, and with your son as well.

“Take all the time you need.” You answer. Your eyes fall on your son, noting his somewhat puffy eyes. You ask him, “Are you better, Ren?”

“I am.” He nods. Pulling out the game completely changed his attitude. You can’t get too mad at him, he just got into this world. He’s just figuring things out, slowly learning that he can’t get everything even if his father wants to give him the world.

Like father, like son. Both are sore losers. After losing to you, both have pouty faces and you swear Ren is on the verge of tears. Ren doesn’t nap anymore, but you decide that after all his crying, you’ll put him to bed. You cuddle with him until Ren falls asleep, and once you’re sure he’s dreaming, you get up from bed and leave your bedroom.

Satoru’s in the living room, going through his phone. You don’t want to be alone with him so you hope that going to the kitchen and getting yourself a glass of water will give him the hint. He can go to his bedroom and scroll through his phone there. However, when he hears you, he says, “Come join me!”

You sigh, but you still walk over to the couch and take a seat on the other end. You pull out your phone, while he turns his off. It’s completely silent for a minute before he clears his throat and asks, “Are you still talking to Suguru?”

“Does it concern you?” You quickly reply. It’s not his business, especially when he doesn’t tell you what’s going on with him and Sayo.

“I want to know if he’s the possible stepfather to my son.” Satoru answers, and you furrow your eyebrows. You put your phone down and look at him before tilting your head to the side.

“What about you and Sayo? She’s the stepmother to my son and you have yet to tell me a thing about your relationship with her.” You respond, and he purses his lips together. You’re right, you’re absolutely right, but this isn’t about him. “I have no idea about your arrangement with her either… The one that she mentioned.”

“We don’t have an arrangement.” Satoru scratches the back of his neck, clearly nervous about the question. He’s not with her out of love, he’s made that clear. Yet… Why is he denying it?

“The same way Suguru and I have nothing going on.” You answer, hoping that’ll make him speak. Although you aren’t lying, you feel as if you have nothing going on with Suguru right now. You’re avoiding his calls and texts, you definitely don’t have a future together after this. “Look, Satoru. I just want the truth, an explanation to everything. Maybe some closure.”

The man takes a deep breath, and you know that he’s about to tell you the truth. You can read him like a book. Satoru bites down his lip before confessing, “I didn’t marry her out of love but out of convenience.”

That’s certainly a start, although you aren’t too shocked. Maybe you are a bit surprised since you assumed they fell out of love instead of straight up thinking it was arranged. He takes another deep breath before he says,

“When my father died, my mom knew that I wouldn’t be trusted with his spot… Since I was considered too immature. Also for other business purposes, merging the company that Sayo’s family owns with our own.” He begins, and you feel a pain that you haven’t felt in years. A sudden pain that consumes your body in a matter of seconds, and it only gets worse with his words. “There was another promising candidate that would’ve handled the job while I finished my studies, and my mom was scared that we would lose control. I’ve never been too well liked by them.”

You look down at the couch, feeling your eyes getting glossy as he speaks. You thought you were over this, you really were. He continues speaking, “Getting married to Sayo was my mom’s great solution… Getting married to a woman with status would show how mature I was, ready to take the spot.”

“And… I agreed. We would get married and stay like that until I had my job. I could show that I was great at what I was entrusted to do, and then I would get a divorce.” He explains, and you exhale. Your nails dig into the fabric of your pants, trying your best not to cry… This is why he did it. Money. Money was more important to him than your relationship.

He changed his number and completely blocked you out of his life. He treated you like he always did when you weren’t convenient to him. With contempt and superiority. As he speaks, you realize that you will never manage to be together without some kind of issue.

“I– I’m sorry.” He says, as his hand goes to your hand, but you jerk it out. It’s no surprise that he didn’t want to tell you, he’s right for not telling you. You almost would’ve preferred to hear that he left you because of love for someone else.

You try not to let a single tear slip even though your heart breaks again. You would’ve left anything and everything behind for him, yet he didn’t even think twice before leaving you. And Satoru feels speechless as you’re on the verge of tears. He tells you, “It was a dumb decision, and given the option again, I would leave everything behind for you and for Ren.”

You stand up from the couch. You suddenly feel suffocated in the room. He wouldn’t choose you if he had the option, he’s only do it for Ren, and that realization makes it hard for you to breathe. But you’re glad he did it. It wasn’t his first time, just this time you realized you would never be his first option.

“No, you made the right decision.” You try to smile at him, attempting to hide the fact that tears are streaming down your cheeks. “Thank you for picking right.”

#[changes]#gojo saturo #satoru gojo #gojou satoru x you #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo angst #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fanfic

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borathae · 8 months

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“After listening to your friend’s story about how awesome it feels to sit on your boyfriend’s lap, you want to try it yourself. Jungkook is more than willing to offer his lap to you, even it makes his face burn up and his heart race like crazy (and maybe get his dick hard, but don’t tell anyone).

Alternatively: Maybe sitting on your boyfriend’s lap isn’t as innocent as you may have thought it would be.”

~ Requested by two anonies ~

Pairing: Jungkook x f.Reader

Gerne: College!AU, established relationship!AU, domestic!Fluff, Smut

Warnings: shy but horny!Jungkook, shy but horny!Reader, they both think the other is in charge which ends up with them being two needy subs grinding on each other, so much domestic sweetness, listen it��s so cute, making out, lap sitting, thigh riding, she rubs his cock over his clothes, grinding, she grinds her pussy on his cock, unprotected sex in the sense that he cums on her without a condom on but dw they are both clean & on birth control, cuddles for aftercare

Wordcount: 4.1k

a/n: I combined these two requests and decided to go with the Sense of Innocence!couple because they fit them really well. This is so adorable and cute and gosh, I love writing for them. They are both such sweethearts. Enjoy my lovelies, this is also my B-Day present for Koo 💗

You are hanging out at Jungkook’s place today. It is raining outside. The skies were grey and on the roads little rivers of fallen water were making their way downtown.

You don’t mind the weather. Not only because you love rainy weather, but also because Jungkook’s place was really cozy. He has his heaters on at their highest level, keeping the apartment nice and toasty. His diffuser was on as well, soaking the air in a sweet and perfectly faint vanilla scent. He even turned on his galaxy lamp. It is barely visible right now, as you not only have the lights on, but it’s also still bright outside. It still gave the room a slight colourful hue to it, which was nice.

Jungkook is playing Animal Crossing on his TV while you are next to him, playing on your phone.

Your feet you have buried under his thigh, using his body heat to keep your toes warm. Every now and then you can feel Jungkook caressing the back of your calf as a reminder that he was there and you were there and while he was busy with gaming he still thought of you. It was a nice reminder.

Right this moment you received yet another text from your classmate and friend Jia giving you dating advice.

- Jia: are you serious? you never sat on his lap before??

- Jia: haven’t you guys been together for like seven months??

Well, it was more of her shaming you for your slow step taking, but it was dating advice nonetheless.

- You: not like this. not so random.

- You: what if it’s weird?

Her answer is instant.

- Jia: girl, it’s weirder that you’ve never done it before

- You: :( i just don’t wanna be too much

- Jia: he loves you like crazy, I don’t think he’d think it’s too much

You contemplate her answer long enough that she sends you three more messages.

- Jia: besides. two things.

- Jia: sitting on your guy’s lap is so comfy

- Jia: and Kook’s a dude, he’ll love it cause dudes love that shit

You sneak a glance at Jungkook, who just this moment shoves a big handful of salted peanuts into his mouth. He wipes the access salt on his black shorts and chews with his big eyes focused on the screen.

So Jungkook loves it when you sit on his lap because all dudes do.

That sounds like a stereotype to you.

- You: I feel like that’s way too generic. not every guy’s the same.

- Jia: yeah, duh? but he’s into you and if a guy’s into you he likes it when you sit on him

You feel your cheeks heat up at her choice of words, looking at Jungkook in case he somehow heard what you just read. He obviously didn’t, still highly concentrated on planting pink flowers on his island.

- You: you really think so?

- Jia: yeah

- You: and it’s worth it?

- Jia: YEAH

You look at Jungkook again. He is chewing again, which means he shoved some peanuts into his mouth when you weren’t looking.

- You: okay I’ll do it, brb

You don’t get to see her answer, but she is cheering for you.

You place your phone down.

“Hey, Kook, uhm.”

“Hm?” he says, cocking his eyebrow up but not looking away from his game.

“Can I try something?”

“Yeah, wanna play for a bit?” he offers, but follows it up with, “can I just finish the flowers first? I know exactly where to put them and I don’t wanna forget the spots.”

“No, I wanna uhm…can I just show you?”

Jungkook nods his head, “sure”, he says, still staring at his game.

You take a deep breath and peel yourself off your comfortable lounging spot to get on all fours and crawl to him.

He sneaks a glance at you from the corners of his eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asks, eating some peanuts again.

You take his arm and pull it around you. At that Jungkook finally looks at you, flashing you a sweet smile instantly.

“Hey”, he says, pulling you closer.

“Hey, uhm”, you murmur, doing the next step of climbing on top of his lap and then sitting down.

“Oh?” he widens his eyes, gawking at you with his lips parted in a perfect O-shape.

You don’t bear to look into his eyes. Instead you let yourself plop against his chest, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in the crook of his neck.

Jungkook lets out a soft chuckle, nuzzling his cheek against your head. He rubs his hand up and down your back.

“You’re cute”, he says and pecks your hair.

“Do, do you like it?” you ask him.

“Yeah, I do”, he says, returning to his game, “so snuggly.”

You smile. So Jia was right. He likes it. You cuddle closer and begin playing with his hair. You like it too.

His chest is strong, his thighs are soft now that they are relaxed and his arms around you feel so safe. He also smells heavenly. Like his body lotion and laundry detergent. The faint scent of his shampoo lingers on his neck as well, as does the actual smell of his skin.

“Feels nice, don’t stop”, Jungkook says.

You also really love that you can play with his hair so easily. He has the softest hair. It’s always so nice to feel it run through your fingers and tickle your skin.

“Your hair is so soft”, you tell him shyly.

Jungkook rests his head against yours in acknowledgement, humming a soft “mhm”. He knows that he doesn’t have to say more.

You spend the next moments like this. Cuddled up together as Jungkook plays Animal Crossing. He is preparing his island for a flower festival and he wants it to look as perfect as possible. Every now and then, you can hear him munch on some peanuts or mumble innocent curses under his breath when he accidentally planted the flower in the wrong spot.

You feel so cozy atop his lap. He is so warm and snuggly. And the touches he gives you make you tingle like crazy. Each time he eats some peanuts, he makes sure to connect himself with you by touching you softly. His fingers trace your spine, his palms run along your side or thigh and every now and then you feel his lips leave a little kiss on your head. It’s so, so nice to experience and you curse yourself for not doing it sooner.

You would have sat on him longer if the stupid doorbell hadn’t rang. Jungkook lifts his phone to check for the time.

“Our chicken”, he exclaims, “took them long enough. Wah, more than an hour.”

The doorbell rings again. He pats your butt gently.

“Baby, can I get the chicken?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m already getting it”, you say and peel yourself up with a heavy heart. You wanted to stay on his lap for longer.

You thank the delivery person, wishing them a safe drive home. The rain became stronger in the time you sat on Jungkook’s lap, entering his apartment and hitting your toes when you had to open the door. The delivery person trots down the stairs with their head held low to shield the rain. Poor them. You hope that they can warm up and dry off soon.

You lock the door and return to Jungkook. He already has two plates set out and a pair of plastic gloves for each of you.

“Wah, look at the size of that box. I’m so hungry already, you have no idea. Thank you for getting it”, he says, meeting you halfway to take the box from you. He carries it to his coffee table and sets it down. Then he opens it, busying himself with taking out the different sauces and opening them.

You in the meantime, get comfortable next to him and switch the channels.

“Thank you”, he says.

“Sure. Should we continue Physical 100?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

And so it happens that you and Jungkook watch your current shared favourite show as you eat your crispy chicken. It is a very amazing time and the food is really tasty. But you can’t deny the sad little feeling deep in your tummy that you can’t sit on his lap anymore. You got a taste of it and now you want to experience it again.

You and Jungkook wash down the chicken with some beer. He sighs happily, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“The food was so good”, he says.

There is around seven minute of show left. He relaxes into the cushions and sips on his beer. You get up to clean the table.

“Baby, no”, he says, tugging you back down.

You fall with a squeak, landing on his lap. Your eyes flit up, meeting his playful gaze. Your heart is doing somersaults in your chest.

“Don’t clean, you’re my guest. Just relax”, he says and wiggles his legs, “please?” he adds, widening his eyes cutely.

“Yeah okay”, you say, stifling a squeaky giggle as you settle against his chest. Your back is resting against it while your head is on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around you, nuzzling his nose into your neck and kissing you softly.

“I love that”, he says, “this is so nice.”

“Yeah it is”, you agree, feeling your heart race like crazy. This is the best feeling ever. It really is.

And so it happens that you finish the show sitting on Jungkook’s lap. You drink your beer, laugh or gasp at parts of the show and enjoy the other’s warmth to the fullest. And you are so, so happy that you dared to take the step. Being on his lap is amazing.

“Do you wanna watch another episode?” he asks once the show finished.

“Yeah, why not?” you say.

“Noice”, he says, pecking your cheek, “keep it playing, I just gotta wash the dishes. I thought I could handle them being here, but I can’t. I’m so fidgety.”

You get off his lap and help him clean the coffee table. The show is running in the background. His kitchen is located right behind the TV, allowing you to listening to the show clearly.

“I get it. It’s nicer when everything’s clean”, you tell him, throwing away the empty chicken box and cans of beer.

“Yeah definitely.”

It doesn’t take long for Jungkook to do the dishes. They were only two plates after all. You are already on the sofa again when he returns. He sits down next to you and sneaks a glance at you. You do the same.

“Do you…” you begin.

“Yeah”, he says, blushing softly.

“Okay”, you almost squeak the word and then you are already on your feet to change your position. You sit down on his lap again, cuddling into him while he hugs you tightly.

“This is so nice”, he says, resting his chin on your shoulder and smiling softly.

“Yeah, it really is”, you agree, feeling oh so happy.

You manage to watch a good two thirds of the show and then you have to get up to pee. You tell Jungkook to keep the show running because you don’t like the current team and don’t care about what happens to them. Jungkook still gives you updates when you are sitting on the toilet, doing so by yelling out what was happening. It made you chuckle because it was cute.

Jungkook is gawking at the screen with big eyes and parted lips once you return. He is resting his elbows on his knees, looking totally captured by the show.

Saddened by the fact that you can’t sit on his lap anymore, you sit down next to him.

His head turns to you instantly, he frowns at you, studying you with sad eyes.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you sitting there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Get on here”, he says, patting his lap, “don’t sit there.”

“Oh”, your cheeks heat up instantly, “sorry, I just didn’t want to force myself onto you.”

“You’re not. Now com’ere”, he says and opens his arms for you.

You follow happily, doing it in a way so you were facing him again.

“But you can’t watch the show like that”, he says.

“It’s fine, I like this so much more”, you tell him, running your hands up and down his neck.

He gazes into your eyes and smiles with them. You retort it.

“You’re cute”, he says.

“You like this, don’t you?”

“I love it so much”, he says.

“I thought that I would try it tonight.”

“It’s amazing”, he smiles, caressing your waist.

You are so giddy! You have to kiss him! You do so rather forcefully, knocking a surprised squeak out of him. He falls into the cushions, accepting the kiss with his breath tickling your cheek as he exhales shakily. One more time you suck on his lips and then you pull back to sneak a glance at him.

His eyes are half-lidded, his lips are parted. He gazes at your lips then locks eyes with you. A soft, hazy smile lights up his face.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“Just so. I think you’re so cute”, you tell him.

“I think you’re cuter”, he says and looks at your lips, “I want to kiss you again”, he confesses, cupping your cheek, “please?”

You close the distance between you and him. You want the same. You got a taste of him and now all you want to do is have him on your lips for hours. It starts off innocent. Really, you didn’t mean for it to turn into the mess it will turn into ten minutes from now.

It starts off oh so innocently. You are feeling each other up, but it is never meant to linger on an intimate spot. You touch his chest, his shoulders, his face and neck, playing with his hair as well. While he feels up your back, your waist, your legs and your face, tickling your scalp every now and then as well. It was supposed to be innocent, but the thing with being stupidly and unbearably in love with each other is that there will come a time where the innocent touches leave exciting sparks on your skin and then those touches send your hearts into overdrive and make your breaths shaky.

You break the kiss, just so you can connect your tender lips with his neck.

“Baby”, Jungkook sighs, tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes, “that feels really good.”

His pulse is racing like crazy under your lips, encouraging you to keep going. Jungkook moans softly, sliding his hands to your hips. That’s when the innocence ceases to exist. You chase his touch, forcing your pussy to grind against his thigh.

“Ah”, you gasp, tensing up and lifting your head.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, looking at you with big, worried eyes.

“I, I”, you stutter, feeling your face heat up unbearably.

“Baby, what’s the matter?” he stresses.

You wiggle your hips and bite down a little moan. The pressure and warmth on your clit felt really intense. Jungkook sneaks a glance down at you, widening his eyes.

“Oh”, he lets out, looking back at you.

You lower your head, feeling too embarrassed to look into his eyes. He’ll probably think that you’re such a needy idiot.

Jungkook takes your hand and guides it to his dick wordlessly.

“Oh?” you gasp, gawking at him. He is really hard in his shorts, twitching into your hand as he guides your fingers over his tip. He is blushing like crazy.

“I didn’t want to say, because I didn’t wanna be a horndog”, he says and grins shyly.

“Oh”, you let out and wiggle your hips on his thigh. The grinding motion feels so good that you let out a little moan. Jungkook answers you with a moan as well, looking at your lips with droopy eyes. He is still rubbing your hand over his clothed cock, but soon doesn’t have to anymore as you take over.

“This is good”, he sighs.

“Yeah, it’s good”, you agree.

Jungkook places his strong hands on your hips and helps you ride his thigh. He feels so good. You are so warm on his thigh and the way you seem to tense and shudder each time your hips roll over his muscle excites him a lot. You in return love how his cock is twitching under your hand and how hot he feels to the touch.

You exchange one look, one moan, one touch and then you are kissing again. Sloppier than before. More tongue as well. And with lots of little sounds escaping the both of you. The show is almost over by now. Only ten minutes left. Neither of you take it in. It’s background noise, just as the loud rain outside is.

You rub each other sensitive that way. The next episode is already four minutes in when you break the kiss again. You have soaked through your panties and sweats by now. Jungkook did the same with his shorts. You are panting like crazy, barely catching your breaths. You try to look at him, but barely can. He is so blurry in your vision. You cup his heated cheeks. Jungkook leans into your touch, moaning your name.

“I can’t hold it for long”, he confesses.

“Same”, you say, tensing on his lap.

“I wanna feel your pussy.”

“We could take our pants off.”

“Yeah please.”

“Okay.”

You scramble to get naked. At least your bottoms for now. You are too horny to care about your shirts. You just want to connect with each other again. You scramble back onto his lap, Jungkook welcomes you with open arms. He grips your hips instantly without ever guiding you. You still think that he is. Neither of you really think they’re in charge, both think it’s the other. It still works somehow. You find each other, pressing up against the other.

Like this, your pussy is grinding right against his cock. Said cock is resting against Jungkook’s stomach, twitching when your wet warmth comes into contact with him.

“Baby”, Jungkook moans, closing his eyes, “baby that feels so good.”

“Yeah”, you moan and chase him with rolls of your hips. His cock grinds right against your clit, sending electric pleasure through your veins. He is so much warmer than his thigh was. And softer. And so much wetter. Oh god, having his naked cock against your pussy feels so good. You don’t want to stop chasing him. He probably thinks that you are acting so needy right now, but you have to keep moving.

You lower your head to kiss his neck and suck on his skin desperately.

Jungkook moans, dropping his head on the edge of the backrest. Like this, his body slides down the cushions just enough that you have even better access to his cock. You press down on him and use the better position to focus your attention on his tip.

Jungkook shudders, tensing his thighs as he feels bolts of pleasure course through him.

“Don’t stop”, he begs, leaking in bliss.

You smear it all over your pussy and cock seconds later, mixing it with your own never ending slick. The movements are so easy because of how wet both of you are. You can’t stop grinding on him even if you wanted to. His request is unnecessary because all you want to do is keep feeling him in this way.

“Don’t stop”, you beg. You don’t know why you begged, but it felt so right to do. In your eyes it is Jungkook, after all, who controls the scene. Who guides your hips with his hands as you lose yourself on his cock.

While he thinks that you are having him wrapped around your every finger, laying willing victim to your sweet seduction.

Truly it is almost adorable how wrong either of you was. Just two submissive lovers grinding on each other, thinking they are the one submitting whilst in reality you are both equally submissive. It’s adorable, really. Adorable and very needy.

Oh so needy.

You break your lips from Jungkook’s neck because you needed to breathe. You are so dizzy that it gets hard to keep moving your hips. But you have to, Jungkook would want you to.

“I’m so close”, you whimper, twisting a bundle of his hair.

“Me too, baby”, Jungkook gets out, squeezing your hips. He is holding back. All he really wants to do is climax all over your pussy. But he holds back, because you would want him to.

Adorable, really. You both are so adorably stupid right now.

“Kookie”, you whimper, tensing up. Your clit is pulsating like crazy. You can’t describe how intense his cock feels on it, but it does. Oh it does. You can barely breathe.

“You can c-cum whenever you, you need to”, Jungkook stutters, squeezing your hips.

“R-really?” you squeak out, resting your forehead on his shoulder. You are so ruined. Oh god, so ruined. You need to keep grinding and grinding and grinding.

“Yes”, he says and in his ears it’s him making sure that you cum first, but to you it sounds like he is finally giving you permission to let go.

You press yourself closer and sob his name, hiding away in the crook of his neck as you let that tight knot in your tummy burst. You manage to grind yourself on him one more time and then the pleasure gets too difficult to bear.

“Oh god”, you choke out, convulsing atop his lap as your fingers twist his hair desperately. You feel so hot. Your pussy feels like she’s burning up. It’s so intense that you end up sobbing his name again and squeezing him for comfort.

“You’re so hot”, Jungkook mewls, helping you ride out your high by moving his hips which results in his cock grinding against your pussy, “oh god baby, oh god.”

You finish after five aggressive shakes of your legs.

“Kook”, you moan, chasing him even if it hurts a little. You already acted needy enough, now you need to get him off as well, “Kook please.”

“I’m gonna cum”, Jungkook whimpers, “I can’t hold back anymore.”

“Please”, you beg him, grinding your overstimulated pussy against his tip.

“___”, Jungkook moans and arches his back. The tight knot in his stomach breaks and fire takes a hold of his body. It feels so good to climax like that, leaving him to drop into the cushions and keen your name loudly.

“Yes, thank you”, you pant, helping him ride out his high by grinding on his cock. He made you so sticky and wet now that he is cumming all over your pussy. You really like the feeling, chasing it with needy ruts of your hips.

It takes Jungkook six rolls of your hips and then he gets too overstimulated. He grips your hips and drags you away from his cock.

“Please no more”, he begs.

You drop onto his lap, soiling his skin with your mess. Neither of you care.

“Thank you”, he gets out, hugging you against him, “oh god, this was amazing.”

“Yeah”, you agree with your head resting on his chest, “I was so horny.”

“Me too”, he says, chuckling breathily, “you’re amazing.”

“No, you are.”

You lift your head to send him a goofy grin. One he retorts happily.

Behind you the show announces the new challenge. You and Jungkook sneak a glance at it.

“What the hell is going on?” Jungkook asks, reaching for the remote to press the information button, “huh? How are we already halfway through the next episode?”

“Stop it. I don’t wanna spoiler myself”, you say.

Jungkook turns off the TV and drops the remote in synch with his head falling against the sofa, “we’re idiots. I didn’t even realise the show was still on”, he laughs.

“Yeah me neither”, you giggle, “but I don’t regret it.”

“Agreed”, he says, hugging your waist, “lean into me, I wanna hold you.”

“Mhm, Kookie”, you say, snuggling into him, “we gotta rewatch what we missed.”

“Yeah definitely.”

“I gotta go pee and clean up soon”, you whisper.

“Hush, just a few more moments. I need to savour you.”

“That’s fine with me”, you say, feeling oh so happy that you want to scream.

Jungkook feels the same, replaying what happened moments before in his head. He is smiling as he does, feeling his heart race like crazy.

Jia will ask you for updates when you meet her on campus on Wednesday, but you won’t give her more than a simple “he really loved it”. She smiled and then acted cocky about being right.

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leaawrites · 2 months

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It's nice to have a friend

Percy Jackson x mortal fem!reader

Warnings: use of Y/n, mentions of almost dying, Percy's stupid at some points, friends to lovers

Summary: Percy can't let your hands freeze to death, only because he had to make you lose yours in the first place.

Masterlist

Looking out the window Y/n saw the frozen water falling down from above. Their heritage, the clouds, were a dark color of white, however the snow didn’t make the scene dark, it made it comfortable. It gave her a type of warm hug, a feeling she couldn’t forget. A feeling she wanted to save for the warm summer days, the same as she saves the sun for rainy days, and the rain for when the flowers bloom.

The bell rang, signaling that the lesson, and the school day therefor, was over. Y/n sighned, she did want to walk through the streets covered in snow, but her hands would freeze to death in the meantime, since she lost her gloves a year before.

With her hands in the pockets of her coat and her gaze on the floor, watching the snow squish under her boots, while new one fell onto them, she concentrated on the music in her ears. Only looking up when she heard child’s laughter. On the other side of the sidewalk, 4 kids were having a snowball fight, laughing together when one gets hit by the snow. Y/n stopped, admiring the fun in their eyes.

“You wanna join them?” A voice beside her asked.Turning around, she saw her best friend, Percy.

She would still concider him her best friend, even when he started to ditch her every summer for some summer camp he couldn't tell her too much about. She liked the boy, she really did. But something about his behavior when she asked him about it didn't sit right with her. It was like he didn’t want her to know. Before this, Percy would've told her everything. No matter what, she used to always be the first to know. Whether it be about a new school he was sent to or someone that bullied him on that day. It was always her. Now it were his new friends.

She tried to tell herself that it was because Percy wanted to leave some of his old life behind whenever he went to summer camp. Like it were two seperate worlds. But she knew that Grover, another friend of Percy's, was also there.

"I can’t," she answered. "I lost my gloves last year, after you had to take me to one of those." She pointed to the kids, smilling at the memory of back then.

“Oh, yeah.” He remembered, laughing at the memory as well.

Both of them were prepared to make the other go down and suffer in the snow that day a year ago. It was a simple and nice idea, until Percy decided he had to help a duck on the lake. At that time he hadn’t had snow gloves himself, so he borrowed Y/n’s.

Long story short, the duck ended up almost drowning, together with Percy, but could rescue itself, while the gloves were sliding from Percy’s hands and fell into the freezing water. He hadn’t bought her new one’s, he insisted on doing so, but she refused to accept them when he got them for her. She didn’t want him to spent his money on her, so she said she would buy new one’s herself. Since it was technically her own fault for giving them to him, when she knew they wouldn’t end up on her own pair of hands anyway. However, she forgot until it was too late.

"You almost died that day, how can you laugh about it?" She asked the pale boy. With the white snow surrounding him he fit right into it.

"t was a fun day, you can’t deny it, can you?" He asked her, searching for the comformation he always craved from her. He wanted her to agree with him in everything, so that he knew that they were still balancing on the same thin line like before all the sudden changes in his life.

Spending time with her always kind of made him feel more at ease. She was his home. She was who he was so used to, he could tell her everything. Besides about camp and his now second life. It was too dangerous. So, he keot it to himself. Rather have her angry than dead, right?

"It was a fun day," she agreed, stuffing her hands further into her pockets from the cold temperatures.

"Have mine," Percy said, holding his gloves into her direction, after seeing her shaking body.

"No, thanks,” she said, continuing walking home. "I’m not even that cold."

But the chattering of her teeth betrayed her and Percy looked at her with a dumbfounded expression.

"Then have one at least," he tried to compromise, looking into her eyes with that certain look. Raising his eyebrows, Percy moved the glove more to her body, until she couldn’t refuse to take it anymore. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she put the black glove over her freezing hand. Feeling the warm of his hand from before, made an slight blush creep up on her face. Which she played off from the cold.

"What is with the other, genuis?" she asked. She didn’t want a second glove but a conversation.

He only took her hand into his, beginning to walk again, not looking at her once. Her face grew even hotter and her body was filling with warmth as their bare freezing skin touched and exchanged body heat. Both were burning from the desire of this being more than a friendly encounter.

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy pjo #percy series #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #pjo imagine #pjo fanfic #pjo fandom #pjo series #pjo #pjo tv show #Spotify

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undercoverpena · 2 months

Text

2. lemon twist

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter two of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.4k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie being a single!dad to a son. frankie gives reader/you a nickname (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. an: thank you so much for all the love on chapter one, and the bonus graphic. I'm so happy to bring you chapter two! also, WE'RE POSTING WEEKLY BABIESSS

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

A soft, melodic tune pulls you into the land of the living, aware of the tug of it, and the immediate reluctance you have to leave the comfort of your dreams.

Your hand hesitates, reluctant to emerge from under the snug warmth of your sheets before your fingers are tapping and searching, all sluggish with sleep, groping blindly as it crawls against the wooden top of your bedside table. It's only when your fingertips connect with the screen does the world fall into silence.

Nothingness. Stillness. Peace.

The perfect environment for your mind to come to itself as you slowly open your lashes, raising a balled-up fist to rub slumber away, as your gaze meets streams of light rolling in through the breeze-blown curtains.

Then it hits you.

Comes to you in a trickle. Then a flood.

One after the other, memories of last night rush over you. Messages sent and received coming to you, recalling the way you'd tucked a pillow under your chest as your thumbs replied quickly to each incoming DM. Then, you recall the giddiness, how it fluttered through you—how it still remains. Still ever-present and very much thrumming inside of you as you begin to smile.

It remains on your face as you roll out of bed. A brief memory of something he said making you laugh as you wash your face, and another when you brush your teeth.

That feeling stays with you as the sun glistens through your kitchen window. One which adds a glow to the place, making the little smoke stains on the walls and the chips on the kitchen counter seem better, less noticeable—and less irritating.

You smirk as you wrap your hand around your mug—because is it too soon to wish him a good morning? Should you wait for him?

Sighing, rolling your eyes, you land on the dresser you were sprucing up in the place a dining table should be. Your eyes linger on it—teeth picking at the skin on your lip—just as it does so each time you come in this room.

A reminder once again that this place should be a home you’ve been building for years, and not just the last few months. There should be photos on the walls of a relationship playing out alongside family and friends, but those ones placed in between are still just empty.

Like so much of your home.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you drop your stare to the newspaper under the feet of the dresser. The stories were told in black and white splotches over in many shades, dotted around as you tested and checked to see what would make the old, worn thing look like something new. The same thing you’d somehow managed to get delivered through a smile and a sweet, please.

You had been, for so long, undecided on the shade.

Yet, as you gaze upon it now, your imagination begins to weave a vivid portrait. It conjures the image of what it might resemble should you succumb to the shade that's gradually painting itself in imaginary strokes.

Sliding your phone from your pocket, you open up your DMs.

Does butterscotch orange come in a paint type suitable for wood? It does. You at work today? Desperate to see me? Just looking to help someone shift paint they can’t sell. What you looking to paint, Rainy?

Taking another sip of your drink, the warmth kisses your palm similar to the temperature blooming in your cheeks from conversing with him again.

Choosing, instead of words, to snap a photo, knowing it'll be easier, simpler.

Watching it send, the little speech bubble appearing as your mind drifts to the hair above his lip, the facial hair along his jaw—the little patch you’d wanted to graze your thumb over.

You think of the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles; when he’d looked pleased to see you in the paint aisle—something akin to a modern-day meet cute you see on the TV.

You coming in today? If I can… gives me something to do this afternoon.

You bite your lip, considering it—whether it’s too forward to make a flirtatious comment. The two of you skirted around it last night, practically river dancing—not quite stepping over, but not quite retreating either.

I’ll get you it ready at the main desk. My hero, Frank.DIY Don’t push it.

It’s the third visit you’ve made, and while you gloss over the paint chippings on the door, you do notice the circular stains on the floor.

They’re brown, smudged slightly at the edges as though someone has, at one time, attempted to clean (whatever it was) quickly after it had appeared. It’s clear they had failed.

Your eyes scan over it, for a moment forgetting anything and everything.

Just existing in today's scent, which happens to be singed wood—chippings of it practically in the air—as the sound of an electrical saw starts up and begins screeching in some distant corner until you hear your name being called.

And it silences everything.

That voice could pull you from anything, you think.

A crisis, your thoughts, a spiral.

You’d heard his voice plenty all last night as you watched videos of him hanging shelves, answering questions likely sent to him on how best to prime a wooden handrail, and still, you weren't sure you were sick of his voice.

That, and DIY had honestly never sounded so hot.

After the shortest walk to the counter, a brief hello, a grin you wish you could try and smother a touch, you’re leaning on the counter. His eyes focused on you, watching every move you make as though looking anywhere else would be a crime.

“You got a Sharpie there?”

Frowning, you feel you can breathe easier when his eyes drop to the counter—rustling around the till area as you rest your elbow.

“Because I forgot mine and I think I should ask for a signature this time.”

Pausing, he slowly lifts his chin, then eyes. “Funny.”

Shrugging, you grin, watching him ring up the tin—occasionally smirking to himself, before shaking his head as you pay, your phone vibrating on the counter that you continue to ignore.

“You gonna be alright with that?”

Scrunching your nose, you pocket your phone and tilt the can on the counter. “Painting a dresser or carrying this to my car?”

Something sparkles in his eyes, a little shimmer. His mouth opening, likely ready to spill nothing but charm and flirtation again, when another voice cuts through—one gruffer, more tinged in age.

“Francisco, what you d—oh, I see.”

Your smile remains, even as you stare up at the older man—the one with wiry whites and spotted greys you’d seen sitting behind the counter on the day you left to get coffee with Francisco.

It’s notable, how smaller, and thinner the older man is—how he moves like he’s pained by each step until he slumps into a chair and puts on the brightest and biggest of smiles before offering his hand.

“The name’s Harry.”

You look at it, only briefly, flicking your eyes to Frankie who looks like he’s wishing the earth would open up at his feet and swallow him whole. A somewhat twisted, forced blank expression and the mildest of eye rolls follow when your hand slips inside Harry’s, offering your name.

“Thought it was Harold,” Frankie says, rather bitterly.

“You have to call me Harold, but she can call me Harry.”

Smirking, you bite your tongue, rolling your lips as you smooth down your blouse—trying not to make any more eye contact with the man you’d really come to see.

Sliding the paint closer to you, you offer a softer smile, one that is nothing short of kind. “It was lovely to meet you Harry, and I’ll see—“

“—Rainy.”

His voice cut through as the can slid from the counter, the sudden acknowledgement of the weight showing—likely scorched across your face as your arm drags down, shoulder going with it, just about saving it from the ground.

It’s only as you look up, do you find Frankie half over the counter, spotting the key rings and cart tokens rolling around the floor—the stand on its axis from his sudden movement.

So, is Rainy my name now?

You caught that?

I did 😏

I wasn’t thinking.

I have to ask.

Here we go.

Do you always wear the hat or is it a Frank.DIY thing? And is it Frank or Frankie or the newly learnt Francisco?

Whats wrong with my hat? And Frankie and Morales were taken.

Morales your surname? I feel I’ve hit a sore spot.

Yes. And you have but you can make it better.

How?

Meeting me for a very boring lunch this week.

You’re really twisting my arm. Which is mean. You saw the stress my shoulder had to endure today.

I tried to warn you. I’ll let you bring your Pinterest board and your saved Reels.

I fear you just want me for my organisational inspiration.

Can’t help you decide if I’m the man for your project if I don’t know what you’re after.

Fair, I guess I can meet you for a business lunch.

Would you be more into meeting me for lunch if it wasn’t a business lunch?

It depends on what kind of lunch we’re talking about.

I’m very badly trying to ask you out on a date.

Oh, that’s what you’re trying to do.

Unless I’ve read this wrong.

Nope, read it perfectly. I guess I have to confess to you that I really would love to go on a brunch date with you, Francisco.

Lunch date. Let’s not get too romantic. Don’t want you to fall head over heels and visit where I work twice in two days.

Has Harold told you how hilarious you are?

It’s nice—the place he’s chosen.

All washed in bright white, yellow splashes and pastel accents. Plants adorn as much of the walls and ceilings as humanly possible, with guitar-infused music softly playing as the door clicks into place behind you.

It's so nice, in fact, you almost want to live here. To spend an infinite amount of time brushing your thumb over the leaves to see which ones are real and which ones are very good fakes. So pretty that it’s the kind of place that if you weren’t looking for him at a table, you’d snap a photo of it all and send it to a friend.

But, as soon as your eyes land on him, he's the only photo you want to take.

White t-shirt, with a dark shirt thrown over the top, still very much all broad-shouldered and wide chest as he smooths his hand down as he stands.

The hat, one that you'd assumed would be a staple, is all but gone, curls at odd angles as though his fingers have been teasing them—tugging and pulling as the ends slightly frizz—as he moves around the table when you approach.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” he grins, hesitancy thrumming before he must question himself, snaps himself back into place from dragging his eyes up and down you.

Then, he’s moving, gently—enough time to register he’s moving to hug you, and plenty of time to politely decline.

But you don’t.

Allowing his hand to slide over your waist, delicate, very much cautious and all but respectful, at the same time as his breath flutters over your cheek. You almost turn your chin, wishing to all of a sudden curl into it before his lips graze your skin, lashes fluttering before you feel him moving back.

And, fuck, the scent of his aftershave is still washing over you in thick waves. It does its best to slide up your nose and make a home there as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You almost turn, almost catch the last bit of his lips, eyes focused on his, holding, burning them in as you find yourself unable to tear away from it. Two people, swirling, completely lost in only the other—the rest of the world fading to a muted shade, nothing compared to the hue he exhumes in the centre of brightness and pops of colour.

A thing you turn over, unable to stop yourself from stealing stares as he pulls out your chair, before joining you by sitting opposite.

“Thought this was a safe bet, wasn’t sure what kind of lunch person you were.”

“More of a brunch person, honestly.”

He smirks, flicking his eyes up, even if his head is tilted down at the menu.

“It’s very nice—not been here before.”

A brow arched, he smiles—shyer, the beginning of the dimple appearing before he casts his eyes back down.

“What do you recommend, Francisco?”

You don’t miss his snort, the way he sticks his tongue in his cheek as he gives you that look—one that makes you want to keep flirting and testing him all at once. One that makes you clamp your jean-covered thighs together, but secretly hope he notices you doing so.

If he does, he doesn’t show it. Instead, using his index finger to point at various parts of the menu, recommendations falling, rolling—a shimmer in his eyes at certain parts, that makes it easy when someone comes over to ask for your order.

You suspect it’s a favourite, the one you’ve chosen. Something is written into the way he holds your gaze before he stumbles over his words, practically trips, to say his.

It’s only when you’re alone, do you rest your elbow on the table—the coldness of it rising up your skin, rooting you—as you lean your chin on your palm. “So, do I get my Pinterest boards out now or…?”

“Funny.”

You bite your tongue as you smile, staring, admiring. “So, outside of terrorising a man in his own shop, running an Instagram, what does Francisco DIY do?”

Shaking his head, he takes a sip of his water—a bead collecting, remaining on his lower lip for a ridiculously long time, before the tip of his tongue casts it away, and sweeps it from your view.

“My… my friend fights—like MMA. He stopped for a bit, but now he…”

You wait, let it form—let him decide what it is he wants to tell you and when, and how. Sliding your feet out under the table, stretching as you relax into the chair, finding his eyes fixed, concentrated.

“I go to some of his training.”

“Good at DIY and MMA training? Starting to wonder why you’re single, Butterscotch.”

He laughs, soft, rich. “Just… haven’t been looking to date.”

Nodding, you let out a heavy exhale. “I wasn’t either.”

His lips purse, twitch to the side, a smirk half forming somewhere in his cheeks as he leans over, elbow resting on the table, foot catching yours under the table.

Mirroring you entirely as the two of you just stare. And, normally, it would be weird. Odd. But, it doesn’t feel it. If anything, it makes you want to commit each crease from his smiles, each wisp of hair along his jawline that crawls up his cheeks—the patch that could be traced with your thumb, an almost heart shape left, ready to be stamped with a pair of lips.

Your eyes only pull from it when your drinks arrive—when the moment is broken by the real world—as you lean back, let your eyes move to your server, thanking them as you take your drink. And then, the two of you are alone.

“Might change my Instagram name.”

Brows lifting, he pauses his glass close to his lips. “Oh yeah, what to?”

“Rainier Grey—makes me sound elusive.”

Snorting, he shakes his head, sipping on his water before placing the glass down close to your hand. Fingers brushing against it, a thing which makes your eyes flick over your screen.

“I dare you.”

“You dare me?” you say. “How old are you?”

“A man too old for dares.”

You brush your index finger over the back of his fingers, lingering on it, noticing the way they flex as you do as if battling to take your hand in his.

Even if you’re determined to go halves, Frankie’s insistence beats you.

All ‘Don’t argue with me on this, alright?’ said in a tone deeper, more serious than you'd heard to date. And, it's hard not to let heat lick up your spine at the sound.

Even if he’s giving you kind brown eyes as you hold your hands up in defeat.

Smirking, you watch him pay, spotting the picture in his wallet of a boy with a missing-tooth smile almost as big as the man in front of you.

“Alright Morales, but next time it’s my treat.”

“Next time?”

Smirking, you bite your lower lip as you stand, grabbing your things. “Think you’ve earned it.”

Each step to the door feels heavy, a fluttering in your stomach—a grin that can’t be wiped, barely doused when you say goodbye to the people behind the counter.

It grows wider when he gets the door for you, the cooler, outside air creating a vortex of his aftershave all over again (that you hope finds a way to bury itself into your skin) when he opens it.

It’s odd, almost insane—the giddy way you feel as the two of you walk to your car. His fingers are so close to brushing yours, the distance to your little vehicle becoming shorter and shorter as you desperately wish for another few blocks.

Disappointment flares, trying to scratch out the happiness inside your stomach as you pause at the car, trying to smile, but finding it difficult.

Rubbing the back of his head, you watch him roll his lips. “I had a great time.”

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you nod, “Me too.”

“Won't have to wait long, you've promised me brunch.”

“Think I said I’d pay. But, if you want brunch, I’m down to blow your mind.”

You realise too late, mouth hanging open, the words hitting—landing in his ear as you watch him process them.

It’s sluggish, almost lagging, the way his face lights up, the way his eyes widen and his smile grows into something close to what you had across the small table—not tinged in any way by the upcoming goodbye.

“Well, if that’s—”

“Shut up,” you say, cutting him off, hand ready to push his arm, but you slide it around his waist.

Face close to his, bodies almost flush.

You watch him swallow, how his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he flicks his gaze from eye to eye.

Licking his lips, he smiles. “Can I kiss you?”

The moment you nod, he’s leaning—lips brushing over yours, fingers tightening on his waist as you move with him, all delicate, smooth, downright velvety as your other hand finds his neck. Feels his pulse against your palm, the warmth of him against your skin, before your lips part, deepening it, letting him have more, as much as he wants—

Then, he moves you. His palm meets your car, guiding you back until your spine meets the side of your vehicle, and he leaves another mark of him—thumb and four fingers—in the grunge the city throws at your car.

The other is the one he leaves pressed against your lips, all invisible, sweet and aching. Leaning in, your fingers find purpose on his neck, skating around, teasing a low curl as you lick into his mouth delicately.

All teasing, caressing, the arm around your waist tightening as the two of you remain almost flush against the car.

And it’s dizzying, all unexpected—but then, so is he.

More so, when you part—nose against nose, eyes opening to find his doing the same.

“I should…”

Your fingers slide, wiping his bottom lip before resting it on his chin, nail stroking against the hair there. “Okay.”

“I’d like to,” he begins, slowly stepping back, allowing cooler air to flow between where your bodies were pressed together, “Not wait to see you again—and, help you. With your project.”

Rolling your lips, you smile. “I’d like that too—both of them.”

“Alright.”

“Okay,” you smile. “Let me know.”

Nodding, he steps back up on the curb, hand wiping across his mouth.

You actually changed your handle.

Told you, I don’t back down from a dare

Guess I owe you one.

Can I cash it in at any moment?

As long as it’s appropriate, yes.

There goes my idea of daring you to strip in the shop and make out with a paint tin.

Have to just dream about that one.

Oh, I will Francisco.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy

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doc-hudson · 1 year

Text

Trick or threat: Fast car

Alternative title: In which Doc tries real hard to be cool in front of a kid and Luca reevaluates their life choices.

Dated: 29-30 October, 2022

TW: Reference to an almost panic attack.

Luca Paguro

When Luca had admitted they didn't know anything about Halloween, Magnus had bought them a pumpkin hoodie and shoved them out the door to go the Secondary party they'd heard about. Except Luca didn't really want to go. Milo and Hiro were both going to be at some uni party and Zero had been sort of cadgy about where he was going to be. Tony was home with Ian. So that was everyone Luca new.

Instead, they had started to wander around town, just looking at everything. They watched the kids in the costumes, the teens screaming, the people laughing and teasing each other. They didn't talk to anyone, but it was fun to watch.

Except suddenly the screams took on a different tone. And became a lot of running. Then the purple monsters started to appear and Luca completely froze

Doc Hudson

Now, if there ever was a moment where screams and people running around wearing questionable attire was sociably acceptable, it was Halloween, so Paul didn’t really think twice about...anything that happened around him, not when chances were that everything was just kids being kids and doing as kids (and himself being a ridiculous old man) did.

But when the screams turned less playful, less practiced…

“Is that a local tradition?” he asked the nearest person around, which happened to be a kid wearing a pumpkin costume and no shoes (really? in this climate?) “or are those just theatre kids being ‘emselves?”

Luca Paguro

There were screams. There were screams and monsters and even though they'd been warned about Swynlake disasters, the past few months had been so quiet they'd started to feel safe. Apparently that was a mistake. Of course the human world wasn't safe!

Starting to tremble, they fully jumped when the voice appeared next to them.

"I-I don't...I'm new. But...but what are those?" Their voice cracked on the last word as they pointed at the shambling figures

Doc Hudson

...Oh

“It’s ok, kid” Doc replied, raising his palms in the universal sign of ‘look, I’m unarmed’ before looking into the ruckus' general direction. This all could still be a joke, a very tasteless one, but a joke still.

Poor fella sure as hell wasn’t laughing.

“Well, that makes two of us. I’m also new around” he said, trying to lift the kid’s spirits a little, taking a step forward in order to shield them from watching...whatever the hell was happening and risking a full-blown panic attack “it’s ok, I promise. Now take deep breaths”

Luca Paguro

Doc was entirely correct that Luca was on the edge of the panic attack and was wishing they were back in their room. Or preferably back in the ocean where the monsters made sense and usually were just hungry and they had a whole pod around them to protect them.

But they could handle instructions, so as soon as they were told to take a deep breath they did, following it with another. It was better with an adult there to hopefully explain things. Even if he was new. "Do we...do something? Or go somewhere? I don't - all my friends..."

Doc Hudson

“That’s it, kid. Now-” He continued, alternating his attention between the chaos that seemed to inch closer every second, and the poor fella. The best option right now was to run -but that would probably make the other even more nervous, so Paul would have to think about a temporal alternative.

He searched his pockets, ignoring his keys and going straight for the mini Kitkat he’d managed to snag earlier, then offering it to the other.

“Here we go. Take little bites while-”

Something akin to metal being hit resonated in the background.

“-little bites. And keep your eyes on me, ok? We’re getting out of here in a sec”

Luca Paguro

Luca, for the record, Luca would be okay with the instruction to 'run' especially as an instruction. The bigger problem would be that they physically couldn't run very far on land, but that was a minor detail.

But a new food - particularly a new sweet food - was an extremely effective distraction and Luca immediately took it and took little bites, the terror being replaced by sheer delight at the taste.

But the promise of getting out was also good and they looked back at the older man nodding quietly in response.

Doc Hudson

Think, Hud, think.

“Ok” said Doc, mostly to himself, as he knelt in place, bad leg be damned “You’re getting a piggyback ride”

Sure, the option seemed unortodox out of context (and even with context, sure) but that was their best bet as of now: they had to get away and get away fast now that something was around the corner.

Something...vaguely human and that had a curious green glow to it.

“Close your eyes, if you feel like it. I promise you won’t be missin’ anything interesting”

Luca Paguro

Luca had...no idea what a piggyback ride was. But considering the man was kneeling with his back to Luca while still talking to them, they could at least make a guess with 'back' and 'ride' (where did the pig part come into this? They'd need to remember to look it up later).

They made the mistake of glancing back at the purpler figures which were now much close and then they tossed their skinny 5'6 body at the adult, clutching at his shoulders and hoping that they ride would begin now!

Doc Hudson

The pause was kind of unexpected and Doc was about to ask if the kid was truly ok but soon enough the kid’s weight made itself present on his back and the question became unnecessary.

Oh, man, as light as the kid was this absolutely would hurt later, Doc could tell already.

“We’re out” he declared as he rose, albeit slowly, then inhaled; And off they went, the sudden sprint making Paul bite his lip in pain as they made their way away from whatever-the-hell those things were-

-or, at least, the closest of them. Unluckily for them all, the problem right now wasn’t a lone purple thing wrecking chaos, but a whole lot of them roaming around and doing just that; Even when they turned the corner, a new one appeared.

Ah, just their luck.

“Kid” he called “I know you’re new around but you’ll have to tell me where to go. I haven’t got the slightest idea”

Luca Paguro

Luca didn't close their eyes as the only thing worse than seeing danger was not seeing danger when you knew it was there. So they held on as the man began to run.

Except there wasn't an 'away'. They were everywhere. They watched as one of the purple creatures punched through a window and then kicked over the trash bin outside the house. Another one grabbed hold of a person, and they screamed out loud before pulling themselves away and running.

They needed to go somewhere safe. There was only one person in town they considered really safe.

"That way. Forward and then take a left. We can go to Laurel's house in Tortuga. Laurel can beat anything."

Doc Hudson

Great, absolutely great. Well, at least the kid had someone, someplace, they could trust and while that wasn’t a complete solution to the problem, it sure was better than nothing.

“Forward, then left” Doc repeated as they moved once again, zooming next to one of the purple creatures, one that seemed way too busy trying to make sense of a streetlamp before deciding that it just wasn’t worth the effort and, instead, decided to tackle it down as if the thing hadn't been made of metal.

“Forward, then left” Paul insisted through gritted teeth as he forced himself to maneuver away from the things, people running around and the occasional something being thrown around “ok, hang in there, kid”.

He had no idea who Laurel was, but if the little fella trusted them then they’ll have to make do. If anything were to happen he could always try to herd the blasted things away from them-

-well, if his strength allowed for it, that is. He was terribly rusty and already getting tired.

“Tell me when to turn left”

Luca Paguro

As Luca caught sight of one of the goo monsters slammed their hand through a window in order to grab hold of something on the other side to pull it back through. Another one had picked up a board and broken it in their hands.

Letting out a small 'eep' they clutched tighter at the man and half buried their face in his shoulder (but not enough to cover their eyes, just in case).

A moment later, he tapped the shoulder. "Next left! Then forward to 242 Maple Drive."

Doc Hudson

Next left! said the kid, and that might just be the best thing Paul had heard all day.

“Almost there, don’t worry” Doc replied, mostly out of breath, as they took a left, passing dangerously next to a purple thing that refused to move out of their way.

Only barely did they touch, a piece of goo-like substance clinging to his (and the kid’s) clothes before being pushed away by their movement's inertia and leaving behind a rather angry, but ultimately too far and too slow to catch up to them, purple colossus.

“It’s ok, kiddo” he insisted, slowing down in the hopes that now that they’d finally reached a neighborhood that wasn’t completely invaded by the blasted things “I think they haven’t reached this place yet, you can breathe calmy now. Is there any way, ‘sides the number, I can know what house I’m looking for?”

Luca Paguro

Even that brief touch had Luca shuddering and shrinking more against Doc. This was why he shouldn't go outside! Outside was dangerous!

But as they came into the familiar neighborhood where he lived, he relaxed his grip and slid off the man's back. He'd been carrying him for a long time anyway, and Luca could run for a little bit. Probably.

"I can point it out. Thank you."

Doc Hudson

The kid’s weight disappeared from Doc’s back and...well, that felt a bit better, but the man wasn’t about to admit that, not when he still wanted to play cool for the kid, even if they seemed more relaxed now that they were around familiar surroundings.

“Don’t mention it, champ” he replied with a soft smile (that may or may not be noticeable under all the white makeup he was wearing) “I’ll stand here for a second and make sure nothing follows you, ok?”

Luca Paguro

Luca had started to walk when the meaning of the man's sentence became clear, and they paused to turn back towards him.

"Don't you want to come inside? Laurel has lots of snacks and she can protect people from anything. Staying out here doesn't seem very safe because what if the monsters come this way?”

Doc Hudson

Paul shook his head ‘no’, still smiling.

“Don’t mean to impose, sport” people might get injured and while he couldn’t officially try and patch people up, he could always try and help in a less...formal way -he’d have to run to get some supplies, sure, but that was his plan for the night.

“You stay safe and look after your folks, ok? I’m sure you’ll be just fine”

Luca Paguro

It felt wrong letting him walk away, but the little bit of Luca's courage that had gone in to talking to the stranger in the first place faded away at the 'no'. "Ok. If you're sure. Thank you sir." That was polite right? That seemed like a polite thing since he didn't know the man's name. Oh no, he didn't know his name and now he definitely couldn't ask, that would be weird. Intead, Luca just waved awkwardly and walked quickly into Laurel's house.

#A story for another rainy day #c: Luca #guest staring Laurel Lightfoot #/MY POOR BABY

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cassiopeiasdaughter · 6 months

Text

dress

Theodore Nott x fem!reader

summary: New Year’s Eve, secret situationships and big declarations (angst with a happy ending)

A/N: slowly climbing out of my hole, be patient with me please...this was based on a fic request sent to me for my August celebration Theodore Masterlist

“So, what are you wearing tonight?” Your friends voice snap you out of your thoughts

“Huh?” You asked, turning your head to face her- Pansy.

Pansy Parkinson, is the prettiest- most intimidating witch you know. You went to school together, but never really talked. Well, until one rainy, very unfortunate evening. You had spent the afternoon by the lake- reading and thinking- alone as you liked to do while she -even though she denies it still- had been shagging a Ravenclaw prefect, at the same lake.

Said Ravenclaw, left her high and dry; running off to some astronomy club he had almost forgotten about, causing her to bump into you- as a storm broke out.

“Unbelievable.”, she huffed trembling on the way back to the castle - her clothes were muddy and wet, her hair disheveled and her shoes, once shiny and perfect were now absolutely ruined.

You didn’t dare bother her with talking, you instead opted for quietly listening to her righteous cries.

“I lost my necklace.”, she repeated over and over again under her breath, “It must have fallen off and now it’ll be buried under all the mud, my parents will kill me.”

Neither of you bothered saying goodbye to eachother once you stepped inside the castle, warm and dry and safe. You walked to your respective dorms and prepared yourself to pack this small- insignificant interaction with the all the small talks- and awkward conversations you’ve had with classmates over the years. But life was funny and you being the person that you are, found her necklace the next day and returned it to her.

“What do I owe you?”, she asked surprised and you laughed in return. That day, you earned a best friend for life, someone you could always count on, to have your back and keep you in check. Someone to laugh with and always share the good and the bad, this life has to offer.

“It’s New Years Eve, have you picked an outfit yet?” She asked again lowering the cup of coffee she’d been holding.

“Well, a dress I think- either the green one or the purple- the one with the bow-” You begun explaining but were quickly interrupted.

“The green one.” Theodore Nott said, drawing a small smile on your face- your eyes quickly searching for his.

Normally, you’d scoff at the comment- the audacity- you’d think to yourself. You aren’t someone that cares what other people think of you- not anymore at least. You don’t like asking for help, or advice. You like doing things your own way, you know yourself- way better than others like to think they do. And good Godric, you hate being interrupted, but Theodore- Theo gets a free pass. And you curse yourself at the realization.

You were classmates in Hogwarts, became friends thanks to Pansy, and then you just grew closer. How did everything happen? Well, that’s a story for another time. The important part is that he knows you- all of you and you him. He is the one person you’d sacrifice your alone time for, the one you anxiously wait for at night- he is the one and only person you peacefully sleep with at night, after exposing your body and soul to him. And you, well you hope you are all these in return for him. But you couldn’t possibly know that, because you were the one to come up with the rules for the thing you two have.

Casual, secret, no one gets hurt, we are friends above all.

A stupid coward you were, to think you’d be satisfied with just that. But you couldn’t take it back now, so you compromise and now, you kiss him after your friends have gone home, and you run out of bed before you get too comfortable and reality hits you hard like a punch in the stomach.

“Hate to agree with Nott, but he’s right, the green one looks great on you.” Pansy said unaware of the looks exchanged in front of her, of the lingering touches and innocent smiles.

“I’ll think about it.”

“I don’t understand why we can’t just go together, I am already here, my clothes are here, what’s the big deal?” You hear him ask, as you get ready together.

“The big deal is that I don’t want this to become a big deal.” You confess as you slowly turn around to face him.

“Ah- right.” He finally replies- his voice defeated and cold- distant. It’s no longer Theo- who speaks to you, but Theodore Nott, old classmate- mere acquaintance.

“You know what I meant, we…I-” You helplessly try to repair what you’ve broke, but soon you begin to realize that the other shoe the one you’ve been preparing yourself to drop, just did and there is no turning back now.

“I will see you later tonight” He begins to leave but pauses shortly to observe the clothes you’ve picked for tonight, laid out perfectly in a chair by the corner of the room “Not the green dress then? Pity, but you’ll look beautiful either way. You always do.”

With that, he leaves you alone in your room, confused and sad and irritated.

Confused because you can’t understand him, or his motives.

Sad; like you’ve just broken your favorite toy out of sheer stupidity and carelessness.

And irritated at yourself, for letting this turn into a big deal at the end.

“You don’t look very festive.” You hear Pansy say later that night, over the loud music, a glass of champagne in her hand and smudged lipstick, the same shade as the marks coating Neville Longbottoms neck.

“‘M tired, besides, you know, I don’t like big crowds.” You lie and finish of your drink as you scan the room for him.

Him, him, him. You haven’t seen him all night, you asked around but nothing. You suspect Blaise knows- something- from the way he talked to you, with disappointed brown eyes- staring down at you, judging you and your cold and foolish heart- always avoiding good things and ending up hurt by none other than yourself.

You aren’t even sure what you want to say to him now, what you are expecting to happen. You just want him to know how sorry you are, you just want to erase the image of him turning his back to you with hurt, from your brain.

And as you think all that, you finally spot him in a corner, surrounded by his- your- friends. He locks eyes with you the moment his head turns and he could just kill you right this moment, from how detached his stare is. That’s what you deserve, you suppose for treating him like he is disposable, insignificant; for wanting to hide him and what you have- as if you’re embarrassed of it- of him.

“Merlin you’re both idiots.” Pansy laughs behind you

You turn your head- stunned at her words. And, as you wait for her eyes to turn cold and scold you, Merlin, even yell at you for keeping this secret form her she surprises you with a hearty laugh and an arm on your shoulder, warming you- drawing you close.

“I don’t understand.” You laugh nervously and shake your head at her “How do you? Aren’t you mad? I…I-”

“What do you mean how? I am your best friend, I know you, no matter how hard you try to hide things from me, I’ll know and there isn’t much you can do about it.” She says with a smirk “Besides, I haven’t seen Nott this happy in a long time. So stop acting, trying to hide this thing you have and go be together. I am not going to be your new years kiss, Longbottom is waiting for me by the bar.”

“It's not an act, we had a fight, I think, I hurt him” You confess finally “I wanted to keep this secret, he didn’t and then I went on about not making it a big deal, when I want it to be a big deal, but I don’t think he does-”

You could hear your voice getting faster and faster, words mixing together but it didn’t matter because you had to get it all out now that you could and it felt like a running sink filling up a tub with water, ignoring the fact that a flood could destroy everything.

“Her, hey, slow down- breathe and then explain things, slower this time.” Her words ground you- like an anchor fighting with all its power to keep a ship from getting lost in a storm- even with the strongest tides coming its way.

“We agreed it was a casual thing, between the two of us, but it’s more than that for me. He doesn’t know, and-and in the process, I think, even if there were a part of him that wanted more, he doesn’t anymore. Because I-I have been so terrible, keeping secrets and running away the minute everything became too real. Maybe I’ve lost my chance.”

You hear her sigh and you think she agrees with you, it’s true, there is nothing you can do anymore, you lost the game.

“Do you see how miserable he is right now? How miserable he is every time you aren’t there with him? Stop talking to me, stop pitying yourself and go to him, just go- go, that’s an order.”

And with that she grabs your drink and shoves you away to his direction.

Your mind is blank and your mouth feels dry as you walk up to him and the way he eyes you up, surprised and curious slows your thinking even more.

“I went with the green dress.” You blurt out

“I can see that.” He replies nodding

An apology isn’t going to cut it you realize. Because not only, have you been acting like your secret with Theo was something that didn’t matter to you, something unimportant and stupid, it also made him feel insecure; as if there was something wrong with him- that you had to hide from everyone. Maybe you deserved this; I don’t want to make this a big deal you had said to him. But, really, he is worth it- he is a big deal to you.

“Dance with me?”

You extend your arm and hesitantly he takes it, leading you both to the dance floor.

“I am sorry.” You begin saying as you sway to the music, with his arms resting on your back and yours wrapped around his shoulders. “This is a big deal to me. I am sorry for acting like it wasn’t. I was really scared of putting all my feelings out there and ending up with nothing, but- but you are worth it. I am sorry for making you believe you weren’t.”

“You are a big deal to me too.” He replies after a while, his eyes are lit up now, like you’re used to them looking, warming your insides with just one look. He draws you in closer, as if holding on for dear life and his head dips slightly- wanting to take you all in. “So no more hiding?”

“No more, you can even make a big spectacle out of our one month anniversary if you’d like, I’ll mentally prepare myself.” You say and he laughs

“Noted.” He whispers in your ear “It’s almost New Year.”

You both stop moving and simply stare at eachother.

10, 9, 8

The room darkens and it feels as if you are the only people there.

7, 6, 5

Your heart warms at the though of spending this year with someone you love, actually love.

4, 3, 2

You stand on your tip toes and you smile at the man before you “I really love you.” You say to him

“Happy New Year.” You whisper and kiss him, savoring the Happy New Year, I love you too he whispers as your lips connect.

And once the party is over you return to your house laughing and singing to yourselves, whispering I love you, goodnight- for the first time to eachother, but certainly not the last.

reminder: English isn't my first language and I'm terribly sorry for mistakes; feedback and criticism are appreciated and needed

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott imagine #theo nott x reader #theo nott #theo nott imagine #harry potter fanfiction #Theodore Nott flangst

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 8 months

Note

If you haven't already, could you do something where ghost first meets f!reader? Like super cute love story, how it began maybe also how it's going? (can include smut if you're willing love a good smut lol) I'm so down bad for the cuteness overload because I'm waiting for my own Prince Charming 😩

It was a rainy, miserable day in Manchester, and Simon was growing increasingly bored. He'd been home from deployment for a few weeks now, and the pile of books he had waiting for him at home had long been read, leaving Simon with nothing to do.

Deciding against his better judgement, Simon left the comfortable anonymity of his home, and walked to the local bookstore located two blocks from his small English flat.

It was a spot he always visited when he was home from deployment. The little old lady who owned it was always so nice to Simon, and would always set aside books she knew he'd like.

"Hey Barb." Simon greeted in his gruff British accent, smiling at the woman behind the counter as he walked in.

"There he is, I was wondering when you'd come back home, solider. Got a few books set aside for you, but we've updated our inventory, why don't you take a look around?" Barb smiled warmly at him, gesturing to the abundance of shells laid sporadically throughout the small store.

Simon nodded politely to her, a small smile dancing on his lips as he made his way to one of the shelves. The shelf he always started with, Science Fiction.

The minute his eyes landed on it, he knew he had to have it. He'd been looking for a first edition "Dune" for a long, long time, and here it was just before him. He was so tunnel visioned, so solely focused on the book, he hadn't noticed a small hand reaching for it at the same time he was.

His hand grazed the other persons, and he quickly pulled himself from his daze, looking over and finding you, and Simon could’ve sworn his heart stopped right then and there. You were the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on, and the small giggle that emitted from your lips as he stared at you caused his cheeks to burn crimson.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't notice anyone else was here." Simon murmured, his voice coming out shaky. Damnit, what the hell was wrong with him?

"Don't worry about it. I didn't notice you were going for the same book.” You replied, your cheeks now as red as his.

There was a moment of awkward silence between the two of you, your eyes still lingering on one another’s, as you were both clearly flustered in the moment.

“Uh, go ahead and take the book, it’s yours.” Simon gestured to the shelf.

“No, no it’s really okay. I’ve read the damn thing at least a half dozen times, I don’t need another copy.” You insisted, taking a step away from the shelf.

Simon grabbed the book, and handed it to you with a smile, as he slowly found his confidence. “Please, take it.”

“If you insist..Have you read it before?” You asked, your head tilting slightly in curiosity. “I’ve not met a lot of people who’ve read it.”

“Not as much as you it seems, but I’ve read it a few times. It was my moms favorite book.” Simon said sheepishly, his mind wandering to thoughts of his mother. “It’s an amazing series, I just wish I had more time to read it.”

“Not enough free time?”

“Never enough free time.” Simon chuckled.

“If that’s not relatable, I don’t know what is. I’m a teacher, over at the university. It seems the only free time I get I’m grading papers, or I’m here with Barb looking at the new books she puts out. I’m Y/N, by the way. I’ve not seen you around before.”

“Simon. I don’t come here terribly often. I'm on leave at the moment and I’m due for a book restock. Teacher huh? What do you teach?” He replied, his eyes drifting back towards yours.

“English, funny enough. So you’re a soldier then?” You asked, your interest in the handsome man before you increasing.

“Something like that.” Simon said, his insides melting as he watched you watch him intensely. Simon wasn’t good at small talk, but he was trying his hardest for you. He didn’t want this conversation to end.

The two of you continued to talk for a few more minutes, the conversation ranging from the weather, to how long the both of you had been coming to this little book store, to your shared interest of science fiction.

“Well, I hate to break this up but I’ve got class in 20 minutes and my students will never let me hear the end of it if I’m late.” You said, not wanting the conversation to end. "It was really nice talking with you."

"Yeah, you too." Simon said, his confidence wavering slightly as he failed to come up with anything else to say. He desperately wanted to ask you for number, but didn't have the nerve to do so.

"I'll ask one more time, are you sure you don't mind?" You asked, holding up the book in your hand. " I feel bad it's the only copy here."

"Of course." Simon nodded, scratching the back of his head nervously. "Besides, it's probably better off in your hands. I'd honestly never get around to reading it, so it'd be more of a table piece."

You nodded, flashing him a warm smile. "Well it was lovely meeting you, Simon. I really hope to see you around here soon."

"I'd like that." Simon agreed, watching as you walked to the front, the smile on his face not faltering in the slightest.

Simon continued to stroll amongst the shelves, nothing quite catching his eye as his thoughts drifted back to you. He regretted not getting your number, and letting his nerves get the better of him. He could only hope that he'd see you in here again. Perhaps he'd make a few more trips here before his next deployment.

He made his way back up to the desk, anxious to see what books Barb had set aside for him. She always knew just the right books for him.

"The woman that was just here left you this." Barb said, passing something to Simon, a knowing smile touching her lips. "Seems you've made quite the impression on our little English teacher."

Simon looked down at the counter, and saw the book he thought you'd left with, and found a small note attached to the front. 'Enjoy the table piece. If you’re interested, I’d love to discuss the book over a tea- Y/N' Simon felt his heart flutter as he re-read your note over and over, his eyes falling to your phone number, neatly written at the bottom of the note.

"Sounds to me like you've got yourself a date, young man." Barb said, meeting Simons eyes with a smile.

"I believe I do." Simon replied, fumbling to put your number in his phone. And he couldn't fucking wait.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Planning on making this a multi parter? Or just leaving as is- I've not decided yet.

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley mw2 #simon riley fluff #simon ghost x reader #ghost imagine

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areislol · 4 months

Text

it just won't be the same.

"you were a wonderful experience." "you were... everything."

ft— various genshin male x gn! reader

warning — angst with no comfort,breakup!! intended lowercase, not proofread.

a/n— just putting this out before chapter six of my series, we love that. anywho i have another lil thing on the way as well ^^

wordcount. 1.0k

truth be told, he missed you. he missed you a lot.

as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months, he found himself grappling with the lingering ache of heartbreak that seemed to deepen with every passing moment.

he reminisces about his connection with you, a connection which no longer existed. the apartment they once called "home" echoed with the haunting silence of memories.

he... remembers how he had grown accustomed to waking up alone. for years, the empty space beside him seemed to mirror the loneliness that lingered in his heart. but when a serendipitous twist of fate introduced him to you, he found himself waking up in bed alongside his lover who admiringly gazes at him.

for once he felt happiness, he would've never imagined himself to finally find the one, that he would always be alone—and yet here you were. ready to embrace and welcome him in your loving arms.

but of course, not everything lasted forever. and that's what hurt the most. he thought that you would be the very one to be by his side forever until you both grow old. he had faith, he trusted himself and his intuition.

oh how he was he was wrong.

he faced the harsh reality of an ending that he never saw coming. The pain, raw and unfiltered, painted his world in shades of heartache. he found himself grappling with the harsh truth that not all love stories are meant to endure.

and once again, he found himself waking up to the haunting vacancy of an empty bed. he grappled with the familiar ache of waking up alone, haunted by the fleeting happiness that had slipped through his grasp.

he wondered how something that felt so right could end so painfully wrong.

he remembered the day you sent him that very text, the very text that would have ever-lasting effects on him. the very text he dreaded since the beginning of your relationship.

he remembered how he felt when he first got a look at your message. "we should talk." oh. that sentence.

he remembered meeting up with you on a rainy day (coincidental huh?) at 2 AM, surprisingly you didn't bring an umbrella which you usually did, luckily for him he brought one for you both to share.

"there's no need, i'll make this quick."

quick? what did you mean? he was unsure of what you had meant, oh if he could only go back and try to persuade you so much more.

the rain poured from the sky in a relentless downpour, as if the very sky had opened up to release its pent-up emotions. it just had to be raining.

both your hairs were soaking wet, rain dribbling down from your head to your face, he had the urge to wipe your face dry and hold an umbrella over you but, he knew better.

he remembers feeling an undescribable gut-wrenching feeling, one he had never felt before.

he remembered how dry his throat felt, had it always been that dry?

he remembered how he seemed to have stopped breathing, his breath short and rigged.

"lets break up, i.. i just don't think this will work. you're too busy and i don't feel loved at all, you really hurt me. i'm sorry but i think this is for the best."

"break up?" his voice was barely above a whisper as his words slipped from his mouth, he inched closer to you, hand reaching out to you before he stopped himself.

he remembered seeing you crying, or maybe it was just the rain. he couldn't see properly anyway, tears were brimming his eyes.

it just couldn't be. his eyes remained focused on you, he studied your face. was this a prank? no, your face.. it was mingled with many emotions, anger? disappointment? he was unsure. brows furrowed as you stared at him, not uttering a single word.

"n—no wait, please, explain yourself. i— if i did something wrong please tell me what i did i'll fix it! what do you mean you don't feel loved? i'll give you everything you need please don't—"

it was no use. his words left no impression on you, he stumbled over his words as he continued to pour out his heart, thinking about everything he must've done to upset you.

"please, don't make this anymore complicated than it already is, you know what you did. i only wish you the best,"

he remembered you letting out a sigh before speaking again. "... you were a wonderful experience."

a wonderful experience?

he remembered everything so vividly as if it happened yesterday. he remembered standing out in the rain in the dead of night, you were long gone, leaving him in the pouring rain, the soft glowing amber streetlights illuminating the wet concrete ground

"you were... everything." he whispered, the weight of those words hanging in the air. his voice was shaky and barely audible as he let out quiet, pained choked sobs, letting his tears run freely down his cheeks.

the pain was unbearable.

the days, weeks, months and years after was like no other. he felt incomplete, he couldn't quite accept the fact that you two were over, gone, all the things you did together were gone. nothing but bittersweet memories.

he despised the gods for being so cruel, everywhere he went was just another blunt reminder of you. the cafes, the parks, museums, galleries, everything.

even the cats you both used to feed every weekend, everything reminded him of you. it was like a curse, clinging and gnawing on his heart.

regret loomed over him like a shadow as he found himself grappling with the haunting question of what could have been done differently. he traced his fingers over old photographs, the smiles frozen in time.

his fingers would linger there on your face a little bit longer unknowingly.

the truth remained: the love that had once been the foundation of their shared world had crumbled, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had let something precious slip through his fingers.

but, if there was a chance, he would go back in time and change everything he ever did to upset you. he yearned for a time machine to undo the missteps and restore the life they had built together. please, take him back.

— (all male genshin characters)

note: erm i just wanted to yeah i wrote this in an hour so if it is rushed NO IT IS NOT (yes it is)

taglist: @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!!

another note: NOW A (slight) ANGST WITH COMFORT FIC NEXT YAY

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firstfirerebel · 8 months

Text

𝕳𝖎𝖘

Sumary: Tom Riddle is obsessed with reader and won't tolerate her being somewhere else than his side (Reader is against the hate on Muggles or Muggle-Born wizards)

Pairing: yandere Adult!Tom Riddle/Voldemort x fem! reader

Warnings: Dark content, obsession, mention of the three Unforgivable Curses, implied kidnapping, death, yandere, toxic behavior

Time: First Wizarding War (meaning Voldemort/Tom is still a normal man)

English is not my native language!

I DO NOT SUPPORT OR ROMANTICIZE YANDERE BEHAVIOR!!!

"Why won't you just understand that all I want to do is create a new world, a better one. One were you, and I will rule together!"

"But I don't want that! In fact, I don't even want to be near you! I'll never join you nor support you. Just give up already and let me free!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was another day in the Malfoy Manor where you were captured by none other than the dark lord himself. And another day, where you just hoped to escape or die. Sounds harsh? Listen to your story first...

You have known Tom since your Hogwarts time. You weren't in the same house but in the same year, and even though you weren't close, you did happen to have some lessons together. Never you would've considered him a friend. He was just a classmate who sometimes helped you with potions, and in your free time, you sometimes met him in the libary by coincidence, but that was it.

Yeah, you did find him attractive, but you would have never thought to date him or something like that. After all, he always wanted to be alone and didn't like company. You also preferred being alone, to be honest. Still, he somehow scared you from the beginning. His eyes hold no emotions, but in his actions and his aura, all you felt or saw was pure hate. Tom didn't talk about his past, but he didn't have to for you to figure out that it must have been no good one.

Once you were in sixth grade, attacks on muggle-born students happened, and in the end, Myrtle, who was a friend of yours, was killed.

Yeah, she was very difficult , but she didn't mean any harm towards anyone. Besides that, she was bullied by so many students that you just felt pity for her. You were also bullied in your first years at hogwarts until the students stopped out of nowhere. Since then, you have had problems with being social. Most people who were close with you ended up using you for their own benefits or saw you as their therapist or something like that.

Okay, Myrtle was known for being over sensitive, but still, if people knew she would cry because of mean comments, then why make them? She was in her third year when she died, and she only flew to the girls' toilet because Olive Hornby made fun of her again, which made you more sad about her death. It's not like she chose to have glasses. What was wrong with some people?

In the end, Riddle accused Hagird of being responsible for her death. Only you and Proffesor Dumbledore were convinced that it couldn't have been Hagrid. He was way too nice and kind-hearted for such a terrible crime as murder. Though you didn't think it was Tom either.

But it didn't matter. Hagrid was suspended, and that was the end of it.

Since that time, you didn't trust Tom Riddle anymore. He was the one who made everyone believe that Hagird was guilty. And somehow, since the incident, Tom's aura has become even more intimidating and dark. At least that's how it felt to you...

Once you graduated, you didn't hear of him again, which didn't bother you at all. You lived a peaceful life for a long time. You loved your job. You had true friends. You could do your hobbies. And sometimes you even went on a few dates.

But, if it would have stayed that way, you wouldn't be at Voldemorts' side against your will, would you?

The day that ruined your life was a rainy day. It wasn't too cold nor too warm, so you decided to take a walk in the nearby woods. You loved to spend your time there. All the creatures and plants fascinated you every time without fail. Sometimes, you even saw unicorns, which felt like a miracle everytime Besides, it was one of the last peaceful places left.

War would soon come. It was only a matter of time. Everybody knew that. Maybe you only had two months left, or you still got two years. No one knew except the ones on Voldemorts side.

At that time, you only knew that 'The Dark Lord' was a user of the dark arts. And he hated Muggles and Muggle-Borns. Which was enough for you to despite him. Dark magic was never something you approved, and you didn't care about the blood status of anyone. What mattered to you was always the person.

Usually, the woods were filled with life and joy, but that day was different. The forest looked intimidating from the outside, and you even thought about going back home.

Sadly, you didn't listen to your inner voice. But, it wouldn't have changed your fate...

Once you entered it, you didn't hear the happy cheers of the birds like always. And you didn't see any nifflers running by or other creatures in general. Something was definitely wrong.

But you continued to walk, which would soon turn out to be a fatal mistake. As soon as you reached the river, that was in the forest, you realized why everything was so different than usual.

Death Eaters had chased and killed a Muggle-Born witch with her family. They were on a camping trip, as you could tell from the scenery. But there was still a girl, most likely two or three years old, still alive.

Without a second thought, you hid behind a big tree and some bushes around it.

It seemed like the Death Eaters didn't know what to do with her. Maybe she wasn't part of the plan? At first, you thought that this was not an important mission for them, but then you saw Bellatrix. She was very well known as Voldemorts' right hand. She personally learned dark magic from him and was definitely the most loyal Death Eater there ever was. So this must be a really important matter.

You couldn't stand her guts and wanted nothing more than to just slap her even if you didn't know her in person. Dark magic wasn't something you supported. But still, you couldn't deny that she was dangerous and powerful. Her madness didn't lower that fact.

Since dying wasn't on your to-do lost today, you ran away as fast as you could. Since they were arguing so loud, they didn't hear you. Of course, you wanted to help the little girl, but it was simply impossible to get her without getting caught. And against a whole troup of Death Eaters with one being BELLATRIX, you didn't stand a chance.

But luck wasn't on your side...

As you ran away from the horrible scene, you ran into a Death Eater. They wore their typical black clothes and their mask was on, so you didn't see who it was.

Before you could grab your wand, you heard an angry mumbled 'stupor'. You fell onto the ground and blacked out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you awoke, you didn't dare to open your eyes. After all, you got caught by a death eater, so you being alive was a miracle. You didn't hear any voices around you. It also wasn't cold and wet around you, so being locked up in a cellar wasn't the case as well...

Beneath you was a comfortable mattress. It was soft and made you want to fall asleep on it. But what the hell was this all about?!

If you're caught by the bad guys, you normally don't wake up in a soft bed. Did they bring you back home? No, that would be too risky. Maybe they wanted some information, but you weren't really someone well known in the wizarding world.

Patiently, you waited a few more minutes, but still not even the slightest noise. So you opened your eyes.

You were in a dark room. The main colors were black and dark green. Black wardrobes and black walls. The bed was made of black wood, but the sheets were dark green, the big carpet on the floor as well. No one was with you in this room. Desperately, you wanted to know where you were. From the colors, you would have guessed that it was a Slytherin Dormitory in Hogwarts. But kidnappers don't bring you to your old school!

Scared you inspected the room once again. Nothing was familiar...

You took a deep breath and stood up. If you would die, fine, but as long as you had the slightest chance of escape you would take it.

The carpet felt also really expensive beneath your feet. By the way, your kidnappers were so nice to pull off your shoes before laying you into bed...

Everything in this room seemed to be just made for this specific room. Which frightened you even more.

Suddenly, the door was opened, and you saw a pretty woman (walking down the street 🤣) in the doorframe. She was slim and tall, had long blonde hair that was tied up in a bun. Her tight dress was rose gold with a black cloak over it. All in all, she looked like a wealthy woman. Her face was pretty as well, but she looked like she got a dung under her nose. Weird.

"Get up and follow me, My Lady," her cold and clear voice told you.

"Uhm, I'm not your Lad -" but she was already on her way to your goal. You had no clue where it was, but following her was better than sitting around, right?

"I know this must be really confusing, but our Lord will explain it to all of us soon. I was just told to get you and call you that. Now, please, don't make this harder for us than it already is,"

You managed to catch up to her. Now you also saw that her eyes were ice blue. Matching her cold voice.

"Who are you?" you asked softly. Kowing her name could be a good hint to where you were.

"Narcissa Black, soon to be Narcissa Malfoy," the woman didn't look at you for one second, her eyes were focused on the walls. So you were still in the claws of the death eaters. Family Black was well known for their puryity, not a family you would have gotten along with.

The corridor was huge by the way. Dark colors still dominating. Only the chandelier was white. Did this belong to one person or was it the headquarters of Voldemort and his minions or what? Instead of getting awnsers you only got more questions as you walked after Narcissa.

Downstairs. A few steps upstairs again. Left. Left again. Right. Straight forward. The second right.

Was this a house or a Labyrinth?! How were you supposed to find your way in here? You even got lost in Digeon Ally!

But after what felt like an internity, you both reached a large black table, people gathered around it. A tall man stood up from his chair as he heard you two enter. As he turned around, you saw your old classmate Tom Riddle, but if he was here, he wouldn't help you. If he became a death eater, he was behind after everything you swore to fight. He wasn't an ally or a friend anymore. He was a danger and a threat to you and many innocent people who weren't here.

You tried to hide behind Narcissa. After all, she was the only person who seemed at least a little trustworthy, and she was another woman. Maybe she knew how unsafe you felt because mostly men were in this room. The only other woman was a mad Bellatrix, never ever you would trust her.

"Ah, there they are. Come in, " Tom spoke. His voice had changed, and it was more intimidating than it was before.

You didn't move an inch, but Narcissa started to move forward. Being all alone without someone to hide behind was more scarry, so you followed her, but you were still behind her.

"Oh no, don't be afraid. No one here will even dare to glare at you, my dear. They knew the punishment would be worse than death," You couldn't recognize Tom anymore. The hate in his presence, his voice, his appearance, everything scared you. Back in school, you didn't fear him, at least not for his house or his roots. Just because he was a Slytherin, it didn't mean that he was evil, but now? His opinions were completely different than yours, and this was not a stupid novel of the stereotype enemies to lovers cause he was just plain and simple wrong with his thoughts on muggleborn or muggles in general.

[Funfact: I don't get the hype on this topic, see, for being autistic I got bullied for many years and than reading a story about two people hating each other's guts and than falling for each other just feels wrong for me, you can read whatever you want ofc, this was just my unpopular opinion]

Still, you hid behind Narcissa, but as she tried to go towards a man with long blonde hair and her crazy sister, you felt completely defenseless. The only person you used to know seemed to be the head of everything here, and Narcissa wasn't at your side anymore. Sadly, Tom saw your fear. He went towards you and pulled you in an unwanted hug. Softly, he petted your hair and whispered sweet nothings. As soon as this horror hug ended, he smiled at you and turned towards the others.

"If anything should happen to her, everyone will be held responsible! You know the punishment, now go! We are done here!" As the last word fell, everyone disapparated, and only you and him were left.

And then you realized it. If he could order the death eaters around, he must be the dark lord himself. Tom Riddle, your old classmate, was Voldemort.

You backed away from him but regretted it soon. Tom didn't take rejection good...

"Why are you scared? I won't harm you. In fact, I am the one who has kept you safe since I saw you!"

"Are you mad?!" You yelled back into his already mad face. Wrong choice again. In full rage he stormed through the room and kicked everything in his way. Chairs and even the whole table practically flew through the room.

"Who protected you from those bullies back in Hogwarts?! Who kept you safe from all filthy boys who just wanted to break your heart?! Who killed the mudblood Myrtle so you were safe from her?!"

So Dumbledore was right... Tom opened the chamber of secrets all those years ago. And killed your friend.

"Myrtle was my friend! I never asked for your personal protection, Tom!"

Somehow that calmed him down! Yep, that man was a complete psychopath...

"But you didn't have to, my dear", he ran towards you and cupped your cheek while looking into your eyes.

"Keeping you safe will always be my priority. I loved you the moment I laid eyes on you and I knew that I would always protect you. Look around, here in our mansion you will always be safe. No one will ever harm you again. We'll be safe here! After I've won this war you and I can live here in peace. Just imagine it, I'll make us so many horcruxes that we won't ever die. Here we will raise our kids and they'll never go through the pain of being an orphan like I was", pain and hate was in his voice at the simple thought of 'death' and 'orphan'. But having a family with this insane man? Hell nah, you'd flee the moment you got the chance!

"I know now this is scary for you, and you might think of escaping, but this whole mansion is surrounded by death eaters, the moment you even think of fleeing you'll be brought to your room and trust me, I know how to punish or torture someone so that no mistace will ever happen again",

And that's how you ended up here. Behind you was the man that claimed to love you fast asleep. Yet he was the one who made you go through all of this. Most traumas you had were because of his action. If this was love, than you could already drown in it.

You had no idea if you could ever escape or if even the try of escaping was a good idea. This man wasn't well known for his kindness or his patience.

Maybe playing along would make it easier, but would your mental health take that well? Or would that make him do worse things 'out of love'?

Still, you rethought your first actions towards Tom, trying to figure out what made his obsession start. Was it your look? Your hairstyle? Your body language?

Or was it just being unlucky?

#Tomxreader #reader insert #tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #voldemort #voldemort x reader #yandere #dark themes #yandere x reader #harry potter #harry potter universe #first wizarding war

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hollyhomburg · 3 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.66)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

Tags: Blood, Guns, violence, near death experiences, everyone lives nobody dies...but someone does die this chapter, horror, non-lethal injury, talks of death and dying, a bit of body horror, Trans! tae, Tae is briefly dead named in this, implied/referenced intimate partner violence, flashbacks, brief suicidality.

W/c: 8.3k

A/N: ahhhhhh <3 we're finally ready for this part of the story <3 i wonder what your guys reactions will be, i'm really glad i decided to split this chapter into two peices! it's much cleaner this way. don't be 🥲 too mad at me.

Previous part - Masterlist - First part

(Four years prior, Hoseok)

Today is the day that Hoseok will meet his future pack, he just doesn’t know it yet.

It always feels like a bit of betrayal but the worst and best days of your life often come close together. Maybe just for contrast. A bit of good in the bad. A slice of cake in a feast of raw meat.

This starts as just another bad day in a long stretch of shitty days. The kind of days were anxiety bubbles up and how afraid you are is all you can think about. Taking one breath and then another like just staying alive means you're guaranteed to get better.

The only place to go from rock bottom is up, and hoseok's sneakers are firmly on the concrete, standing outside of the record store in the rain with no place to go.

Hoseok has been afraid for a long time. He can't really remember even if he thinks hard, the last morning he woke up not afraid.

What hoseok really needs is a day off, but he really can't fucking afford it. He can't afford anything- certainly not a one-bedroom apartment on his own. If he's really really lucky maybe he'll be able to find a closet room somewhere that will cost almost his whole paycheck. Because after today-

After today, Jung Hoseok will be homeless, packless, and alone. His pack dropped the news on him last night…or well ex-pack.

He doesn’t expect that he’ll be moving into the pack's house on this rainy day, he doesn't expect that by the end of the week, he won't be worrying about where his next meal will come from because Jin will be there with it ready. Jimin sometimes too.

He won't be worrying about where he'll sleep because the bed in their spare room that smells like tae tae tae will be his. He'll roll around in it when the door is closed, shy about it because Hoseok has never liked other alpha's scents so much before. And when he comes home and Jungkook has made a nest in it, it will feel like a bit of an impossible silver lining, a bit too much- to have an omega making him a nest, making something special just for him

It takes three weeks for Namjoon to make him a house key for himself. After he gets left outside in a very similar storm to this. The doctor will touch his cheek, thumbing at the dimples that they share. how special is it that each smile gets cradled like a crescent moon? the heavens have left imprints on both of their skin. Freckles for stars and dimples for moon's.

"I don't want you to get sick pup."

"People don't get sick from wet heads anymore hyung."

"They don't. But I want to keep you dry and comfortable in my den. i know you still want to look for apartments but...what if you didn't?"

But neither the weather nor Hoseok knows to prepare for good news. Right now the heavens open up and release its deluge, thick rain the way that only happens at the start of summer. Worms and other wriggly things crawl their way out of their holes to find a good spot to die next to Hoseok's shoes. Worn fancy sneakers that his pack-omega had gotten him a few months ago for their anniversary. They're the nicest thing he's ever owned.

His ex-pack omega.

It's hard to rewire your brain, especially for alpha's. Hoseok is a lone wolf. He hasn't been without a pack in so long, it feels weird to not have someone to call, someone he needs to trail after and cling to. He checks his phone but he doesn't have a single notification from them.

He doesn't have a single notification from anyone.

Hoseok is glad he doesn't feel his instincts as keenly as other alphas do. Otherwise, he might be inclined to gnash his teeth at the people who pass by him on their way to work, umbrellas almost bumping him, perceiving even closeness as a threat. So vulnerable without a pack (lone alphas are always the first to starve in winter).

Hoseok shivers even though its summer, he's soaked to the bone after a few minutes.

He has a key to the record store. He could go inside. Granted- he should be inside already. Opening up shop, making coffee, and letting the place warm up. But standing out in the rain feels too much like penance.

Hoseok likes the rain. The smell of it. The way it makes the whole world ache and go still. He feels every drop on his dark hair, soaking through his thin hoodie. It's cleansing almost, letting the rain soak him through.

(The end of relationships is always hard, let alone the end of abusive relationships, they’re downright terrible).

Hoseok keeps replaying their words in his head, with every slosh of a nearby car, every honk of a taxi. The stoplight red and green bleeding onto the wet concrete. Yellow flashing in contrast with hoseok's dark memories.

“You’re welcome to stay here until the lease runs out, but the four of us need to move back home. You understand Hobi don’t you? We’re just omega’s- we’re just girls- and we think this could be a clean break for all of us. We just don't want to lead you on any longer.”

The worst part is that Hobi had sort of known, had sort of already realized what was happening. he’d seen it in their looks; distant and despondent. Their touches that did not linger longer than necessary, cheeks turned as he comes in for a kiss. The phone calls hushed in the other room that cut off abruptly when he entered.

The lease on their apartment ends today. The place has already been professionally deep cleaned and Hoseok's things are packed in his car in plastic bins. He has 6 of them to his name.

He doesn’t have a place to go yet, he might just sneak into the back room at the record store and sleep there until he figures something out. Hoseok drove to work early because he didn't have another place to go.

This version of Hoseok is not the one you know, this version of Hobi is 23 and hopeless, can’t think about moving back in with his parents a city away, with nothing but a rusted-out Corolla that barely gets him to work let alone through the 200-mile trip. It will die on him in about 6 months and Namjoon will be thankful that Hoseok no longer is driving around in a deathtrap.

He hadn’t even gotten this job by himself, his pack omega- his ex-girlfriend had gotten him this job almost 4 months ago after his last one didn’t pan out. Temporary work for temporary people.

Nothing feels like his. Not his body and certainly not this job.

Hoseok hasn’t smoked in months, but something that feels an awful lot like self-disgust worms under his skin and he can’t resist. Not today of all days. Smoking is something that he doesn’t indulge in often, and hasn’t indulged in since… becoming an alpha to someone. But he guesses it doesn’t matter now without anyone to complain that they don’t like the smell.

The cigarette mixes with the smell of petrichor and Hoseok’s own acidic scent. The smell of a terrified alpha draws him more than a few looks but he pays them no mind. He's thankful for his soaking face, at least the rain keeps out the tears. Cool and soothing against his face.

Hoseok just wants- Hoseok just wants to call them. To talk to someone.

Ending relationships is always like this. You want to keep being good, keep being what they want, but that’s impossible. You can’t act or behave right and dupe someone into loving you. Sometimes the love just isn’t there. (A smaller shyer voice says it was never love at all, you can't possess love, only be given it and Hoseok feels like a cast aside possession. Love and abuse cannot coexist).

Hoseok should have known. He keeps replaying the moments in his head. He’d seen them exchanging knowing looks when they thought he wasn’t looking.He thought he was just being paranoid, until yesterday morning when they’d taken him aside.

“You knew this had to end one day Hoseok" "You knew one day we'd move on." "As much as we appreciate what you’ve done for us, we think it’s time for us to move on.”

“What do you mean? I thought we were leaving next week, you really left me with only a day to find a place to go?”

“We’re sorry Hoseok, your last rut was just too much to deal with. We think it's best if we just stay on our own. It's a clean break this way.”

"Wait, please- I love you."

"We know. We're sorry."

Hoseok is too much for anyone to deal with. He doesn’t call his friends (he hasn’t met up with any of them or returned their texts in months thanks to several pointed words from his pack omega). He doesn’t go inside yet because he deserves the rain. He sits out front of the record store, smoking a cigarette that will probably end up killing him down the line, and thinks Good.

He tells himself the irritation in his eyes is just because of the cigarette smoke blowing in his face, even though he knows it's not. He's not even inhaling right because his breaths come all hitched and pathetic. Anyone would be sad if their relationship of several years had ended. Anyone would be devastated.

Hoseok checks his phone again. Nothing.

Most people on the crowded street ignore him. Though the thick throng of people going about their business, probably going to work at their 9 to 5 jobs that pay enough to afford apartments and packmates. Hoseok is the one soul that stands stationary.

Until one, someone a few feet back stops, tipping their face through their hood to look at him. The only other person without an umbrella.

Hoseok knows his face and his name. It’s just Min Yoongi- his coworker and sort of friend who's coming in for his shift. Hoseok doesn't love Yoongi yet but they're sort of friends already. They might be better friends if Hoseok could get over his admiration and jealousy.

Yoongi has this way of quietly taking care of the people around him. He picks up Hoseok's jacket when it slides off the hook at work, asks him if he wants coffee and even pays for it when he goes to the coffee shop next door. He compliments Hoseok's music tastes when it's his turn to play something, he gives Hoseok the aux frequently in a way that feels a little bit like flirting.

The only two good things about Hoseok's job are the music and Min Yoongi.

He even laughs at Hoseok's shitty jokes when they're stacking new inventory saying cryptic things like "they can't be worse than my omega's jokes."

That's why Hoseok's jealous. Yoongi gets packmates, five of them who make him lunch even when he's only got a four-hour shift. that often linger outside to walk him home or pick him up in their shiney not new not old cars.

(Yoongi's packmates certainly have better things to do than send Yoongi to work with a second packed lunch. "Jin-hyung caught a glimpse of you through the doorway, the only thing that he hates more than Namjoon's snoring is skinny Alpha's.")

Min Yoongi has that look that people do when they're well-loved by packmates. Hair ruffled and neck dotted with bruises that might as well be mating bites for a beta. Beta's don't mate, but these ones certainly keep him close. He wears their scents like a shield. Sometimes so thick that Hoseok can't even smell any of his chocolate scent.

Right now, staring at Yoongi a few paces into the street, all Hoseok can smell is the rain.

When Hoseok had been introduced to him it had felt strange just by virtue of Yoongi's sub gender. A beta? Working somewhere so normal? Weren’t beta's supposed to be like- financial advisors or assistants to the president or something? Betas are supposed to have more important jobs than pushing vinyl and bumping Hoseok's shoulder playfully.

(Hoseok hasn’t seen it yet, the way that the owner hands over little white baggies to people who come in looking hungry for a high that cigarettes or alcohol can’t fix. Hoseok hasn’t yet realized that the record store isn't just a record store. This is just one front business of many that the family has organized across this city and the country for distribution of some of his most precious inventory). Yoongi has worked her for the last year, takes calls in the back for the family. The owner only bows to him when Hoseok's not around.

They only hired hoseok for tax purposes. Having three employees looks less suspicious than just two.

The beta looks concerned, and Hoseok knows he can’t hide the fact that he’s been crying as the beta steps up and pushes Hoseok back under the awning. Out of the rain and into the warmth of the doorway. This kind of movement would make any alpha snap, but not Hoseok. Hoseok just tucks his chin down and starts to cry.

“Oh Hoseok.” Hobi sniffles, and wipes his runny nose on his sleeve. Yoongi's hand curls against his throat, chocolate scent spiking to soothe. “You’re soaking wet."

Yoongi grabs his wrist and Hoseok almost keens at the gentle touch. Whole body shaking, shoulders curling in Yoongi's direction. Yoongi’s lips press into a thin line and then tugs him inside.

~-~

(Now, You)

You hold your breath. Still peering around the corner, watching and waiting for the man to spot you.

But he doesn't, after a breath where his soft footsteps echo, you wait, but nothing happens. You peak back around the corner.

You absorb and catalog the details as fast as you can; the black ski mask, covered by one of those traditional Korean masks, wooden with red lacquer. This one is a little different than the one that Jimin had; not twisted with thick eyebrows in a snarl. This one is white with red splotches on the cheeks, like a ghost sent down from above to rob you of your humanity.

The bulletproof vest stops at the collarbones. The gun itself is a black generic model. The long end is extra bulbous with something that might be an attached silencer. His hands covered in black nitrile gloves, leathery at first glance. There is a knife at his waist along with a barrage of other small things; rope and a knife, duct tape and handcuffs. His heavy boots look steel toed and reinforced.

The man (because it is a man you realize; tall, maybe taller than Namjoon) trains his gun at the landing on the top of the stairs. Pointing it in the direction of Hobi, Tae, and Jin’s hushed voices.

Hobi giggles and it sounds so bright. Echoing off the walls and filling the house with his musical laughter.

There is a phone cord tangled in your hands, long and white. You grip it tight.

This man might be silent but you’re quieter as you slide your bare feet across the smooth floors. Your strides are so quiet. You take one step and then another until you're behind the man, mirroring him.

You remember when Yoongi redid the floors, it was one of the few things that he did right away; before the pack came to live here (to love here). It took him weeks and weeks of sanding before he got them to his liking. Days more of brown dark stain that colored his hands ruddy until the soft matte finish stuck. Every pass with the belt sander and dirty rag a movement of love, a meditation for it.

Yoongi made every inch of this house with the same loving intent; to make it a home for all of you. a place to be safe and nurse your wounds and hearts. You won’t let it become a grave. You won’t let this person stay here and ruin it.

Most people get it wrong; In order to kill it is not a matter of elegance or effort. There is no such thing as a perfect kill either. Emotionless and analytic isn't enough and being justified only gets you halfway. There is no way to do it cleanly. People die just as they live, messy and hopeful and dirty.

Murder isn't a matter or wanting or wishing, It’s a matter of rage.

It’s always been this way. Rage has been chewing a hole through you from the moment that you pulled the trigger with Geumjae. From the moment you said ‘I do’. Rage that these violent things have been done to you, that they continue to happen, that you can’t just get away from all the hurt and trauma.

Rage has eaten you clean through to the bone. Rage has made you skinny and starving, rage has made you timid and fragile. But now you're the hungry one. Right now, only three words run through your head;

How dare she.

How dare she send this man into your house. How dare she point a gun at the upstairs, in the general direction of your nest and your packmates. The altar at which you so desperately cling to, for sweet dreams and sweeter worship (There is no deity above the god of love, not even death. Death cannot take the love from your chest, someone dying does not make you stop loving them).

How dare she even think about hurting the people you love.

There is no courage, no bravery, no thought in your head about how stupid it might be as you step closer behind the man. You are not a trained assassin. You’re just an omega.

The adrenaline rush is an old friend, a thrall both intoxicating and unnerving. Your heart beats loud in your ears. You grip the phone cord in your hands and take a quiet steadying breath. He doesn't see you, he doesn't hear you, he doesn't know that you're behind him.

Wolves always go for the throat, whether they’re cornered or hunting.

The assassin’s foot ascends the bottom step. You don’t let him get to the second before you’re moving, hurtling forward. Footsteps no longer light. Your hands go over the man’s shoulders. The cord no more than a white flash across his vision before you draw it tight across his neck.

The pain and panic are instant as you’re suddenly tethered to a six-foot-four assassin and struggling to stay on your feet as he stumbles back. You’re pulled off your feet and down the stairs, but you keep it as tight as you can and you don’t let go. Fighting to keep your makeshift garrote tight as he scrambles to get his fingers around where it digs into his skin. Spluttering loud.

The hard wire digs, cutting easily through plastic and then your skin as he tries to pull you off. You don’t let go until he backs you into the entryway wall and slams you against it with a dizzying clang of bone and body hitting something solid. Your head narrowly avoids one of the hooks that the pack hangs their coats on. An inch to the left and he'd have impaled your skull on it. An inch to the left and you'd be dead.

A single inch.

His head slams into your face, and you feel something in your nose pop, flooding your mouth with blood so thick you choke.

He slams you against the wall once, twice, and then a third time until your grip goes slack and slippery with blood. It knocks the breath out of you, and he finally throws you off. You both fall to the ground like stones. Both of you gasp and struggle for breath. At least one of your ribs it broken, but because of the adrenaline you can't even feel it.

When the man lifts his black gloves to his throat, they come away glossy with blood.

(It’s crazy how you never notice the change from the day to day, one day you are begging for a reason to hold on, a reason to live, and the next you’re fighting tooth and nail to keep going. Just about gnawing your own arm off to get out. To survive and live to see another day. Another sunrise.)

By that time the air has returned to your lungs it’s enough for you to scream. “Jin! Jin! There’s someone in the house there’s-”

You try and inhale through your nose and blood makes you choke. You push at the floor with your hands, struggling to stand, fingers slippery and tacky with your blood.

The man tries to scramble up the stairs but you latch onto his legs and make him drop. Doing everything in your power to keep him from going up to them, to your packmates. Hugging his ankle to your chest to slow him down (the same way you’ve hugged Namjoon’s arm and Yoongi’s, the way you held Hobi in the nest on the couch just a few shattered days ago).

The man turns the gun on you, pointing it to your head, you flinch, waiting for the shot-

and open them as He heaves a frustrated roar before he wheels away and turns, aiming at the top of the stairs instead of right in your face.

You could have died right then. could have and should have, but you didn’t. Your brain is too messy with adrenaline right now to make sense of it.

Why didn't he shoot?

The gun goes off, a bullet whizzing by Jin’s head. His face, scared, on the stairs flashes ever briefly. Ducking for cover just in time. The doorframe explodes in a cacophony of dark wood splitters. The doorknob sparks and bursts into a million pieces with another shot. metal clanking against the ceiling, the walls, down the stairs.

One second, you’re holding onto his heavy leather boot, and the next it’s colliding with your face and you’re out like a light.

Getting hit in your face is always such a disorientating experience. You’d never gotten used to it, even with Geumjae. Granted it’s hard to get used to the stomach-churning low vision feeling of weightlessness, like vertigo only worse.

"Hobi! don't- jesus fucking christ-"

You’re not quite sure what happens next only that you can’t see for a moment after the boot hits your face, and you take big breaths through your mouth. Blood, you taste blood. And then your vision comes back. Black spots and all and there’s Hobi’s face in front of you. No assassin, just him, helping you up from the floor. You're not on the steps anymore but at the bottom of them.

“The kitchen, the kitchen," Blood rushes over your bottom lip. Hoseok wipes it away, inhaling a jagged breath. "He’s-”

He pushes at your shoulders. “The car- get to the car.” It feels impossible. This can be happening in your house. Are you about to have a shoot-out in the street? On your quiet cul-de-sac? But then, in the corner of your vision dark movement.

You tug Hobi’s head down the second that the gun goes off- probably saving his life, definitely saving it as the bullet tears through the banister and ends in a hollow thump in the wall. he may not have shot you but he has no quams shooting at Jin and Hobi. The bullets hit the wall- Maybe 6 inches above your bent heads. Too close, close enough that Hobi trembles in your hold. And he rips something- a piece of the doorway, out of his arm with a wince before he covers your body with his own.

The volley of gunshots are so loud, so vicious as they blow things apart, tearing holes through Yoongi’s coat, the doorway, the banister, and the narrow stairway rungs. Pieces of wood hit your curled forms. Hobi shoves your head down when you try to look.

There is wetness, hot, something hot on your hands, your neck, you know it’s blood before you look. You think it’s from you until the Gunsmoke clears and you realize- fingers skimming across hoseok's forehead, a gash above his eyebrow.

A bullet graze by his hairline thats bleeding profusely. head wounds always bleed a ridiculous amount.

There are more bullets behind you but it’s just Jin returning fire.

Jin’s got Tae behind him. Her face ashy and pink from the shower and panic, her mid-length dark hair such a tangle, cowering behind his back. Jin's gun is so much louder without the silencer. Did he bring one upstairs? Or did he get it from Jimin’s stash?

Jin nearly drags Tae to the three of you, and she clings to you. Your hand finds her face. Fingers are red and bloody smudging against her cheek, blink and you're back there a million moments in the past; dotting red blush across her cheeks with a brush- your fingers- kissing it into place with your lips- painting a line of maroon across her eyelids to bring out the lighter flecks in her eyes- Watching her twirl in a red dress. Pressing your red lips against hers in a quiet dark moment in the library room. With her in Hobi's red car- Everything red.

If it starts with red, maybe it's fitting that it ends in red too.

Jin doesn’t give you time to reminisce. Pushing her shoulder down hard. His bare chest splattered with splinters from the door. Covered in wood fragments that stick to his black sweatpants and damp feet. Shouting, “All of you get down!”

You follow your pack omega’s words. Hobi and Tae With their damn alpha instincts blanket you as Jin fires again. The shots are so much louder in the small space. Another shot, another thunder strike. tae grips your wrist tight, your hands.

When you look down, they look mutilated. you can see bone in one place, deep gashes across the centre of your palms.

Your ears ring and you can't make sense of anything over the noise. Jin returns every bang with a boom of his own, bright flashes lighting up the dark staircase. Casing after casing tinkling down to the floor, rolling across the floorboards

But then, for a second- the gunfire goes quiet.

The house creeks and the three of you hold your breath. Jin's still half-concealed. The air heavy and clouded with gunsmoke and the smell of blood.

Hobi tentatively gets onto his knees and then stands when he doesn't immediately get shot at. You make a small noise in your throat, the loudest that you dare, but he’s looking after Jin, standing in the darkness, hackles raising his angry scent of burning sugar acrid in your nose. His hand slides out of yours, your blood on his palms.

And then you hear the rush of boots, echoing in the living room, near your nest- you’d never unmade it after you and Hobi fucked there. You'd been too busy taking care of Jimin. Hoseok bears his teeth.

Hobi turns, sliding out of your hands quicker than you can grab him. Quicker than you can tell him that he’s being dumb, that he’s being suicidal.

“Not my girlfriend! You asshole!”

The world is a dizzying cacophony of gunpowder, pain, bullets, and shouting. Jin yells Hoseok’s name. But the alpha heads after the assassin regardless of your cries. Jin narrowly keeps him from running headlong into no mans land. the open area by the door that would leave Hoseok a sitting duck.

Tae’s standing up on unsteady legs as you all spill out of the stairs into the narrow hall. Out from her hiding place cowering behind the banister. Your attention isn’t on her it’s on Hobi. Neither you nor Jin are looking at her. You’re running after him on shaky legs. Jin holds you both back, trying to corrall you. The air is cloudy with Gunsmoke, hazy and heavy. Her eyes are wide and pretty like dark marbles as she watches Hobi.

They’re just as pretty when the gun presses to the back of her head.

Everyone turns and goes still. The man has Tae in his arms, hand in her hair making her neck arch. The gun pressed to her jaw. Finger on the trigger.

Her body trembles and she doesn’t turn, frozen still in fear a shallow whine building in her throat.Jin has the gun trained on the man faster than you can make to step in Tae’s direction. But it’s no use.

He must have gone around, run through the livingroom through your pantry. A similar path that you took to surprise him. He must know the floor plan of the house, must have studied it to prevent situations like this. You have no upper hand here with tae in his arms.

Tae’s mouth is buttony and parted, but it settles into a resigned line.

Jin’s never been a good enough shot- not for one like this, even barely 10 feet away. He might hit Tae. Shaky, Jin takes his finger off the trigger and stoops down to put the gun on the floor. His other hand is up, already surrendering when the man jerks Tae's head back by her hair. Rougher than he needs to be.

“Don’t shoot her, please don’t shoot- please.”

The man juts his chin at the gun on the floor. “Kick it away now, be a good omega.” Jin grits his teeth but does as he says.

The man’s voice is rough as gravel. Dignified, but with no obvious accent. Not the quiet cadence that you’ve come to expect from the family. Neither posh nor lowbrow. Something in between. Flat and monotone. You're sure that you've never heard his voice before.

“I have to admit, your file said you’d be resistant, but it said nothing about you being dumb as fuck and a poor shot to boot.”

Jin licks his lips and bares his teeth, “Put that gun back in my hand and then say it again.” The masked man cocks his head to the side and then shrugs as if Jin's fury doesn't mean anything to him.

But He’s bleeding, it trails down to the floor so the words can't be genuine. It's a small wound, a graze on his right thigh. Red bright and hot that drips in onto the floor from his pant leg.

His hand tightens in Tae’s hair. “Line up against the wall. Now. Or I’ll blow her brains out in front of you."

You move first, eyes trained on Tae. But he snaps, eyes unreadable behind that mask, “No- not you. I’m not here to kill you.”

He tosses something to Jin and he catches it. Handcuffs that jingle and clink. Your foot hits an errant bullet with a similar tinkle. “Handcuff Jin to the stairs Hoseok.”

Your names, he knows your names. Your mind races over every detail, every moment trying to piece together a way to get out of this. a way to save them.

“Why are you doing this?” Hobi’s trembling, shaking. “Did Jimin-”

“Jiminie did nothing.” The man croons dragging the barrel of the gun down Tae’s cheek leaving a dark smudge in its wake. It's red on her face, the barrel must still be hot, your blood crusty around her lips.

“Honestly though, you should know he was a shit assassin. Truly piss poor even by industry standards. They always threw him the easiest kills."

The three of you are quiet, if he was hoping to elicit a reaction or more of a fight You don’t give him the satisfaction. Although jin grits his teeth, gnashing anger and an omega's feral instinct to protect their pups.

You step forward hands open, barely two steps from Tae. If you can just get to her maybe you can-

“Please- please don’t kill them."

He cocks his head at you, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Oh no, you misunderstand me I’m not going to do any of it.”

He taps Tae’s head once again with the gun and Tae starts to truly struggle. You tremble in fury and horror as you realize what he means with a sickening lurch in your stomach.

“This is how it’s going to work Y/n” You still at the sound of your name. “Taehyung here is going to shoot Jin and Hoseok. And then once we’re sure they’re good and dead, I’ll kill her.” He tosses you another pair of handcuffs, these ones are meant for you.

You take one step closer; Jin's gun is between your feet now. But you couldn't pick it up or else he'd shoot Tae. Time, you just need a minute to figure out what to do. How to get them out of this.

Yourself now, that's a different story. If you where in Tae's position you'd turn your face to the side and bite the mans hand.

“And what about me then? If they're all dead what’s to stop me from fighting?” he seems to consider it only briefly, the gun in his hand tilting so that you can see the dark oval where the bullet will come out, where it will rocket through Tae's skull and take all the little worlds she dreams of, all her poems and words and make them nothing.

“You think you're so precious? I’ll just kill you.” he says it like it's nothing. like you're nothing. He nods to the others, appealing to them and not you. “What do you want? All four of you to die? Or just three? What will hurt Namjoon the least? Do you think Yoongi will survive loosing his mate? What do you think Jinnie?”

You think of Yoongi's mating mark, the spot on his hip where your small curved semi-circles sit. You think of them turning black- a brand of a dead mate. You think of Hobi's eyes opening and never closing again. You think of Jungkook nesting without Jin and you. Of Namjoon holding out his hand and having no one to take it without Jin there.

You won't let any of this happen.

The others shoot each other unsure glances but you shake your head. you shake your head because earlier on the step, the man didn't take the easy shot, the easy kill.

If he really had orders to kill you, he would have done it then.

you step forward and shake your head. “I don’t believe you. I know your orders are to take me. That’s what all of this is about isn’t it?” The man doesn’t drop his weapon. Just presses it tighter to Tae’s jaw.

“Handcuff Jin now Hobi. Or else I’ll-”

You see the darkness settle in Jin’s eyes and before you know it he's turning to you, eyes flat. Endless in their darkness, the way they might if-

You don't let yourself consider it. You won't let it get to that point.

“Pup-”

You guess it does make sense, having you kill each other as opposed to the assassin doing the dirty work and implicating Moonbyul. If you really are on that ‘no kill list’ like Yoongi said at the hospital, having you take out each other is the only logical course of action. Once Tae kills Jin and Hobi, she'll be free game. This is the only way retribution won’t fall back on her. This is so similar to what she tried and failed to do with Jimin and Jin. This is a second attempt.

Only-

Only this time, you have a bargaining chip.

You step forward, in front of Hobi and Jin, blocking them from his line of sight. Barely a pace in front of Tae, but from the way he tightens his grip on her you know that you can go no further.

“You can take me; I’ll go with you. Willingly.”

Jin makes a noise in his throat and tries to move, but dares not when the man tightens his grip on Tae’s hair hard enough to rip a bit of it out.

“That’s what she wants, isn’t it? If you just let them live I’ll go with you.”

The man is silent for a second. Hobi trembles and so does Jin. For a second, you truly think that he’s going to take the bait.

But the mask is directed towards the floor, then back up at you. “Those aren’t my orders.” His finger is on the trigger so close to Tae’s head. “Now cuff him, I don’t want Jinnie getting any ideas.”

Hobi’s hands are shaking as he unwillingly shackles Jin to the steps as slowly as he can. He's buying time too. Every second and every heartbeat is precious. Both ends loop around a single rung and click closed. The rung itself is a little loose from a bullet that blew it apart near the bottom, it’s got to be the loosest one. Hobi turns, and you see the pre-meditation in his eyes; he chose that one so that Jin could still get free if he tried hard enough.

Everyone is trying. Everyone is defiant. The quirk of Jin's eyes as he settles, staring with rage at the man, his voice a quiet croon when he says what might very well be the last words he ever speaks.

“Tae you can close your eyes honey, it’s okay.”

"No I can't" She struggles harder against his hold, but it only gets her part of her hair pulled out with how rough the man jerks her, tears clouding her vision. "I can't- don't- please-"

Tae's soul has always been butterfly soft and flower tender. She's not made for this. She's not made for murder or pain or anything that lacks softness. She's never been a killer; Jimin was always that side of their coin. Saint and sinner.

Your body goes cold and for a second, you think you just might pass out, especially when Hoseok grips your wrist. One final squeeze in what can only be goodbye before he steps away and in front of jin. Hair puffed up. Jin is lowering his eyes and no no no.

No.

Tae is staring at you, eyes wide and scared, but you watch in total powerlessness as her eyebrows lower. You see the moment Tae thinks it. Eyes meeting yours, lips mouthing something that you can’t read. Maybe I’m sorry no.

I love you. Sorry.

The truth is that Jimin drilled this with her years ago before she left for college and he couldn’t follow. When Jimin first realized that for the first time in their lives she’d be without him as a constant protector. Delicate delicate Tae with her delicate pink soul. So vulnerable to the world and all its wickedness.

Tae didn't confront him about it until the nightmares were waking him up regularly. They were simple nightmares back then; images of Tae hurt and mugged. Tae beaten and left in an alleyway. Tae stalked through the night. Simple, but enough to keep him awake. Enough to torture him in his wakon hours as well as the nighttime.

If Jimin saw her now he'd pull the heavens down and demand something truly awful in exchange. He'd take one of the knives from the kitchen and gut him from belly button to addams apple. He'd eviscerate him- and Namjoon might help.

Hut there is no one here to do any of that, there is only Tae in the man's hold.

“What are you so scared of?” She’d asked one morning, trailing endless patterns on his chest in an effort to soothe him back to sleep.

“Something happening to you while I’m not there, mostly.”

“Would it make you feel better? If you taught me the basics?”

Jimin's pause is telling, more telling are his eyes, hopeful when he looks up at Tae. “Yes, it would.”

It’s been years and years since Jimin Tae have bothered to drill any self-defense sequences it at all. Since he stopped asking her to refresh the basics with him once a year just to make sure. Jimin never thought that Tae would have to use those skills. Like with most things, you just sort of hope you don't have to fight.

But Tae knows you did fight. It's written all over your bloody face and your bloody hands, tightened to fists by your side. If you fought tooth and nail to save them she should fight too.

Tae has written fight scenes like this before. If she survives the press of the gun to the back of her head, she’s gonna have one hell of a personal experience to pull from for her book. The content will be endless.

She seems to swell in the space, alpha shoulders settling back. Her mouth is moving, mouthing words her eyes on you. Just in case this is the last thing she ever does.

I’m sorry, I love you.

“Be a good boy and pick up the gun Tae.” Tae bends down, syrupy slow. Intentional with her every movement. One heartbeat. Another. Tae's fingers are maybe an inch from the gun when everything goes haywire.

When she's about halfway bent she uses her momentum to hurl her body back, slamming her head into the gun and then into the man’s face. Cracking the mask and from the sound of it, the man’s nose. Tae's almost knocks herself out with the force of her own head colliding with the man’s face.

She turns, she’s not finished, not even close. She might be a woman but she’s an alpha too. Alphas always always fight to protect their pack. She turns and swings.

And drives her elbow as hard as she can between the alpha’s legs.

Hobi can’t stop his flinch. That has to hurt.

The assassin’s gun goes flying, skittering across the dark floor and under the bookcase and Hobi ends up lunging for it. You go after it too but you end up holding Tae instead, crumpling to the floor without anything to hold her up. She’s holding the back of her head, eyes watering.

The traditional mask lyes in pieces around you, shatered by the force of tae's headbut. The man clutches his nose, features still covered by the ski mast. Growling out- "Bitch- fucking bitch! I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill all of you-"

Jin struggles yanking his cuffed hands down as hard as he can- in another minute he might get loose, but not quick enough as Hobi finds the gun and raises it. The bullet hits the molding beside your pantry, missing the man by inches as he dives away to safety. A lucky shot by any standard, let alone for a beginner. Hobi shoots off after him. knocking into the wall before he's up and chasing it.

“Are you okay, Tae, Tae- look up at me.” Tae is clutching the back of her head. Blinking rabidly. That fucking hurt even if it was worth it.

“I’m fine just-” She leans over your legs and vomits, retching loud and horrible. Concussion- she must have given herself a concussion. Namjoon told you months ago how to read the signs of them shortly after the first time Jungkook ever had a seizure in front of you.

You hold her shoulders, watching Jin try and break himself free, yanking his wrists hard enough that it has to hurt. Moving to try and help him.

And then Hobi makes a noise in the other room, a pained ghasp, A thump and then-

Tae is already up and running, stumbling into the wall. You glance at Jin. "Go- just go" Jin grinds out. But Tae has longer legs than you do even concussed.

By the kitchen, Hobi slips on a fallen tangerine. (You remember then, Yoongi clearing the table with a brush of his hands for Jimin, tossing a whole bowl of them onto the floor. Where they've stayed since then) they're fighting, the man must have managed to disarm Hobi somehow because the gun sits under one of the chairs. Both of them are fighting just beside the dining room table. Part of it splintered and broken where someone broke it.

They're grappling on the floor now. Pushing against each other trying to gain the upper hand. you've watched the alpha's wrestle before- small disputes to settle and reaffirm the hierarchy, but you've never seen hobi move like this. You watch the man grasp at his waist reaching for the knife. His hands so slick with his own blood that it clatters to the floor. Hobi may not be trained but he's a fighter too. Gnashing his teeth and growling. Reaching up into the shallow gash at the mans throat and digging in his fingers.

And then he’s got Hobi on the ground and his hands around your alpha's throat. Tae tries to get him off but he backhands her, sending her sprawling to the ground and clutching her cheek. Too dizzy to stand. Big hands that squeeze and squeeze and squeeze Hobi's narrow throat. Spit at the corner of his lips turning frothy as hoseok tries to breathe and can't.

“I didn’t come this far to get killed by a bunch of family rejects; 11 years and 1458 kills later and I will not die. Just give up already- I didn’t come this far to-”

Hobi’s face is turning purple, hands scrabbling, pushing against his face trying to get him off unsuccessfully. Dying there on the floor. Hobi is going to die right there if you don't do anything.

Jin is shouting from the other room and there is a frying pan in the kitchen. On the countertop that you snatch on your way past, winding up for it before you swing it with all your might at the man's head and-

At the end of the day, it’s hard to say exactly what kills him. Whether it's you or Tae who wields the killing blow. It’s more of a group effort between you and her.

Tae has read countless books that described love as some gentle force, but this love has not made her gentle. Tae cannot sit there on the floor and watch Hobi die. She'd do anything to protect him and the pack. She’d kill people like Minnie did, would lie just as Jin had, would have sacrificed anything- even herself just like Yoongi.

Love had always been giving in Tae's mind, and she would give countless sins and untold violence, to have this not be the last day with you and the pack.

The gun is just sitting there under the chair. tae hardly has to lean over to get it. (If she makes it out of this alive, she swears to himself that she'll finally start taking those kickboxing classes that Jungkook teaches.) Tae lifts the gun at the same moment that your hand descends with the frying pan.

Tae turns, points, aims, and fires. She doesn’t even think twice about it. The trigger goes down as easily as breathing.

Getting shot in the throat definitely distracts him enough, definitely makes him let go of Hobi, clutching at his own throat instead of his. blood rushing over his hand and down onto hobi's face. So much that it almost splashes.

And then the frying pan hits his head with a hollow final thud.

There is a placid terror in things like this, a quiet as things go and come. The thumping, the sobbing breaths you let out, the descent of your hand, beating out your terror on the body below, a vessel for all of your fear.

The handle of the frying pan is thick and heavy in your hands. You bring it down on the man’s head, the curved edge of the cast iron connects with the plate of his skull with a hollow thud. One second, he's clutching at his blown-apart throat, and the next he goes limp, blood and brain matter splatters loud and heavy along the floor. Falling on top of Hobi like a lead weight.

Hobi's brown eyes are bloodshot and red in his mouth, heaving one big breath that sends the room spinning. Sends vertigo into his veins and panic-running adrenaline. You lift your arms up again and hit him, descending again and again.

His body is still, so still. His chest gives one open shudder and then goes truly quiet. Frozen in time. You are covered in blood, in your mouth, on your hair, on the ceiling. More and more splatters as your hand goes up and then down in an endless loop.

Dark cotton soaks, matted with blood and brain matter, blurry from your tears. A bit of it hits your face, wet and stinky. People never tell you how horrible it smells when people die.

You don’t stop hitting the man, even when it's clear he's dead. Even when you glare down at him through the tears in your eyes and see half a face staring up at you. An eyeball rolls across the floor.

There are arms around you pulling you off of him eventually. Dry warm arms, big and heavenly. One wrist dangles with a pair of handcuffs as Jin yanks you back from the man. The body.

“Pup- It’s done, pup- he's gone- Stop.”

There is blood all over you. On your face, on your hands, around the frying pan. Tae too, sitting just beside you. Half of her body splattered. Hobi's soaked with it and still struggling to breathe. But both of them, the three of them are alive.

“It’s over pup.” Jin sounds like he might be crying. Tae definitely is.

Hobi puts his head between his knees, gasping for every breath but still breathing. Tae's got him in his lap. Holding on to him as he splutters. face so soaked with blood he can't open his eyes without blinking rapidly.

It’s anything but over you think as you let go of the handle of the frying pan.

It clatters to the ground with a bloody and final thunk.

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Notes:

if the beginning of the chapter feels weird/different in terms of narration that is because it was mostly written 3+ years ago and my writing style has changed alot! kinda crazy! hopefully people will just attribute it to hoseok's internal monologue. it might be meandering but i kept reminding myself that this is hoseok at his lowest you know?

One thing i want you guys to realize is that the m/c may not be smart, but holy fuck can she take a beating and still get up.

Gun shoot outs are uniquely hard to write because like, just bang and it's done right? idk why part of this writing just felt so tedious usually i love writing stuff like this :(

hobi calls the m/c his girlfriend 🥺 did you guys notice???? he's such a cute pup charecter.

i have more notes for this chapter BUT i can't share them until the next one is out because it involves hobi's secret.

i hope you guys see like- how good the m/c actually is at the crime and thinking on her feet shit- i think that this chapter above all others shows her street smarts. she knows to keep the guy talking and distracted- i think it compliments her similarities to jimin and jin like. the trio of them are very capable people you know? vs hobi who just headlong rushes the assassin and fucks shit up. i'm not saying it's his fault- he does the best that he can in this chapter.

I'm trying to pull from my actual knowledge of how guns work but fun fact, silencers are still fucking loud, like still so loud that you need ear protection. and even blank bullets can still cause serious injury at close range.

I'm again at the stage where i can't tell if the gun shooting scene is clunky and too predictable or if it's actually as creepy as i've made it out to be.

This is one of those situations- the bargaining for each others lives, that i've actually never had to handle. it's actually pretty unusual for me to write about things that i haven't experienced in some way shape or form.

i've only written a few scenes in my life that have made me wonder like "huh- i wonder if people might actually think that i've seen a dead body, been around a dead body, or killed someone before?" and ngl, the scene with the assassin dying is one that makes me wonder that... i promise i just have a scarily vivid imagination.

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