#I’m sure we know who’s on the other end of the chain

[mwahsturns]

📝 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 - MATT STURNⵊOLO

professor!matt sturniolo x student!reader

Contains: HEAVY smut/oral (female receiving)/fingering/p in v/creampie/swearing/A lot of praise/teasing/flirting/pet names/ unprotected sex/aftercare/fluff. Semi-proof read! And I think that’s it let me know if there’s more.

Synopsis: you’re an 18 year old freshman in college and you’ve always been in love with writing, your whole life you’ve always been hiding behind your books and your writing. You decided you wanted to go to college because you knew you wanted to become something with your writing, you’ve always had big dreams about your work and you knew you could do it. But one day you find out your regular professor had quit his job because of an injury and you were getting a new teacher. What happens when the new professor offers to get you a head making sure you make it where you need to be?, and you end up fucking your new professor.. Mr sturniolo.

Author’s note: i’m doing a collab with @iluvmattsbeard! go check out her version of the reader being the professor! this is my version where Matt is being the professor! i’m so so excited I had the opportunity of working on this with her. she is so so sweet and absolutely talented. i want everyone to show her some love and support because she deserves it! And please enjoy. 💗

* *:･ﾟ✧🏩*:･ﾟ✧

Today has been interesting to say the least, our regular teacher professor Charles quit due to an injury in his knee causing him to have surgery and he probably won’t be able to walk again. I as I walked into the classroom I see I’m the only student here, as I’m putting my stuff down I hear someone walk in.

I swear I felt my heartbeat when I looked behind me, there he was professor sturniolo I only know his name because it’s on his desk but not the point. God he looked so fucking sexy his hair wasn’t messy but it looked so effortlessly fluffy and he had these black glasses that framed his face perfectly, he also had a little blue ish button up shirt but it was slightly opened to where you could see his gold chain. He had some rings on and a watch on his right hand, his beige pants perfectly showed his cock just looking made my mouth water.

Fuck his beard too god this man was a whole walking sex object, I was quickly snapped out of my thoughts by his voice. ‘Hey your early” he says smiling ‘yea I’m always early’ I place my bag on my chair and sit on top of my desk with my leg placed on to of the other one. I noticed him look me up and down and I looked and saw my skirt has lifted a little bit. I was wearing a black and white long sleeve shirt, my cleavage Showing as my necklace sits perfectly on my chest. My skirt was short and plaid with some short sorta see through white socks and some black buckled heals.

‘Cute outfit” he winks and goes to write the agenda on the board, I smile and turn on my heels and sit on my desk and nibble on my pen smirking as I watched him. Eventually everyone started walking into the class and my best friend heather ran over to me and sitting next to me, ‘dude the new professor is so sexy!’ She smiles and as takes her books out, ‘I know we talked this morning’ I smirk as I take a sip of my water. ‘No wonder you’re in the front of the class’ we laugh as we hear professor sturniolo start to speak.

‘Okay guys so as you know professor Charles is out so I’m your new teacher, I’m Mr sturniolo and today’s assessment should be easy you need to write a short story about anything you’d like and share it to the class.’ He smiles and writes it on the board, ‘you guys have the next hour to write it then I’ll have all of you share yours with the class’ oh I got this in the bag I thought as I started writing.

————

The hour is up and he stands in front of the class as he gets ready to announce who goes first, I feel him starting at me as he starts to smirk. ‘You first’ he smirks as he tilts his head looking deeply into my eyes, ‘’me?’ I say confused. ‘Your names Y/n isn’t it?’ He says sassily, ‘yes sir it is’ I say with the same amount of sas ‘well then the floors yours’ he smiles and sits at his desk. I grab my paper and walk the the front of the class flatting my shirt as I begin to read, ‘We shall start with a secret couple, their names is professor Lucas, and a student named Sophia. The two are secretly in love but has yet to expose it to the world so let’s dive deep into their life styles before things get intimate…’ I say smiling as I continue to read.‘Sofia is a very pretty girl, amazing personality, great style, she is a phenomenal actress and she has a great judge of Character and if we need to speak about her body we can say that she has some amazing ideal curve and her face sits perfectly.

‘Professor Lucas is a great guy with amazing humor and he does a phenomenal job at teaching, (that’s what turns Sophia on) he cares for his class and he truly is the person you couldn’t hate even if you tried. Jumping in Sophia walks into lecture hall, looking a little bit more Expensive or extravagant, she is wearing her Golden necklace that says her name in a cursive writing a white button up long sleeve crop top tied at the bottom with a tripled white skirt and some white heals. (she truly loves the color white, she feel it enhances her look more) as sophia Is carrying her books, Professor Lucas takes notice and says ‘ah Ms Raven, please have a seat in the front for me.’ He says pointing out the seat closes to him smiling. Sophia walks down to take a seat and sets her notebooks down and gets her Mac-book out of her bag to place it elegantly on her desk.

Professor looked down and said ‘good morning sweetheart, why are you late?’ As Sophia looks up into his amazing beautiful emerald eyes and smiled saying ‘I woke up late sir’ she knows calling him Sir makes him feel respected and satisfied, ‘hmm see me after class young lady…’ as he continues the lecture. As the day goes on classes come to an end, which reminds Sophia to go meet with professor. As she arrived she placed a firm knock on the door and patiently waited for him to come and answer, in less than a minute the professor answered the door and said ‘Ms raven please come in’ as he smiled looked outside the door before closing it too lock it. He looked at her with a romantic expression. ‘I want us to get intimate, we’ve been kissing secretly hanging out for a while but now, I want to show you that I’m ready for another step and that is showing you that I want to dominate you and show you how much I love you in a different way’ ‘I’d figure you’d get the hook’ the professor looks confused when she says that and says ‘what do you mean?’ As he steps a little closer toward her, ‘I mean I’ve been wearing the slutty things to lure you in or to make you want to fuck me, I wanted to show you that I’m ready for the next step but I was just to afraid to ask.’

The professor steps closer to her them almost touching noses as he says ‘Mama you don’t gotta be nervous or afraid, if you want me to give it to you just ask me. I won’t even hesitate’ professor says as he slowly cuffed her Chin and pulled her into an intimate kiss inhaling deeply as it escalated.

Sophia continues the kiss for a few more moments before breaking it wrapping her hand in his tie, ‘I want you’ sounding a little breathless turning the professor on more. ‘I know you do baby’ the professor said gently brushing his hand down the side of her face, ‘lay down, and open your legs for me’ Sophia proceeds to do so as the professor smiled and watched, As she finished doing what he asked he then spoke ‘good girl’ as he then walked closer to her then sliding his fingers up her inner thigh to tease her already wet pussy. he rubbed his thumb around her clitoris teasing even more before gently sliding off her white see through lingerie panties. He took off his shirt revealing his soft skin and muscular chest.

sniffing the panties and throwing them to the side, he licked his middle and ring finger before rubbing her clitoris once again before loosing his belt and took of his cargo baggy black jeans revealing his huge cock print in his underwear. he took her hand and rubbed it around his print moaning and groaning a little. And just know you aren’t going nowhere….’ As I finished reading this class started clapping, I look at Matt to see him smirking arms crossed god he looks perfect.

‘Great job mrs L/N and um can you see me after class?’ I smiled and nodded my head as I walked back to my seat.

———-

Class ended and I’m packing up my stuff as I hear heather start talking, ‘girl your paper was so good like ugh i felt the emotion and I think professor sturniolo liked it too’ she winks putting on her backpack. ‘Who knows but I’ll see you after?’ ‘Duh ofc you will’ I laugh putting on my backpack, soon everyone leaves and I walk up to the professors desk. ‘You wanted to speak with me?’ I say smiling, ‘yea I did um your writing is so excellent your a very talented young lady’ he smiled leaning forward on the desk. ‘Well it is my specialty’ I smirk ‘mmh we’ll keep up the good work’ he smiles packing up his stuff ‘Will do!’ I laugh as I leave his class.

professor Sturniolo has been here for about two weeks now and to say I’ve got him wrapped around my finger is an understatement to say the least, he’s has been favoriting me for weeks now always giving me extra credit and pushing back deadlines for me I didn’t think anything of it until now.

‘Girl he’s so into you!’ Heather says as we enter the empty class, ‘I don’t know..’ I mean if that was true god it would fuel my sexual fantasies so much. ‘I’m telling you it’s a matter of time before he fucks you’ heather and I take our seats up front as professor sturniolo walks in, ‘good morning Y/N morning heather’ he says giving me this irresistible look that makes me just want him ‘Good morning’ I smile.

As I’m writing our notes for an essay coming up in feel him walk up to my desk as he wisphers in my ear ‘see me after class’ he says as he walks back to his desk. I can’t lie that did make me aroused I know it’s wrong but it also feels right.

————

As everyone left the class I see the smirk growing on his face as the class grows empty. Once the class is completely empty he stands up from his chair and leaned his back against his desk as his arms were crossed, ‘you know you’re a very special young lady..’ ‘mmh you think’ I smirk teasing him a little. ‘I do.. very much the work you’ve turned in has been exceptional your writing style is remarkable..” he walks over to my desk and leans down to my ear. ‘And i must say you’re a very beautiful girl..”

‘Thank you, I appreciate it’ I smile as he basically towers over me, ‘so you got a boyfriend?’ He says as he runs his hand through my hair ‘no.. what about you got a girlfriend or a wife?’ I say looking up at him. ‘Oh no it’s just me’ I mentally take note of that even though it shouldn’t matter to me ‘look your very talented and happen to be very beautiful and I want you to be more than just a basic writer you can be so much more’ he says sitting on the desk next to me ‘I know I’ve always believed I can do it I just wasn’t even sure how to start’ honestly I’m lying I know exactly why he’s saying all of this but I just wanna see how far he’ll take things.

‘Well how about this .. you help me and I’ll make sure you get right where you need to be’ he smirks ‘okay but how will I help you?’ I already know what he wants I just wanna tease him a little I’ve seen way to many teacher and student movies and books to not know. ‘What if you let me teach you a few things mmh? Fuck I can’t lie that did make me a little wet ‘mmh like what?’ I tease standing in his face, next thing I know I’m picked up and placed on his desk.

‘Let me please you..’ he says kissing my neck harshly. I can’t deny as the kiss gets longer the more I’m starting to crave more. He started kissing lower down my neck placing open mouthed kisses onto my breast, i tugged on his hair as his hand slid down into my skirt. ‘Well look at that my perfect student getting all wet for her professor huh such a slut..’ he says as he pulls down my skirt and my underwear harshly.

I bite my lip as I see him spit on his fingers I don’t know what has gotten into me but right now I need him in me, he takes his fingers and slide them into my dripping pussy as he gives me no time to adjust he fingers me very rough.

‘Oh my- fuck’ I moan throwing my head back biting my lip, ‘mmh feels good doesn’t it? He looks like a kid in a candy store the way he’s looking at my vagina right now. ‘fuck yes.’ He smiles at my response and stands up pulling his pants and boxers off and holy shit he’s fucking big.

‘That’s supposed to fit in me?!’ I actually am now kinda nervous, ‘mmh I’ll make it fit’ he walks back over to the desk and pulls my legs forward and now I’m laying down on his desk legs wide open how the fuck did I get here?. He slides into me and I swear to god I saw stars fuck he felt so good, ‘fuck your so tight’ he moaned pounding into me like he was getting a fucking pay check.

‘Oh fuck sir omg..’ I moaned maybe a little too loudly, ‘fuck-please call me Matt’ he tried to say as he let out a choked groan. God his name makes this 10x hotter. ‘Fuck Matt I’m so close’ I moan, ’yea cum on this dick baby’ his thrust getting faster but more deeper.

‘Fuck I’m gonna cum!’ I screamed ‘me too baby let it out mama’ he moaned as I came all over his dick and I felt his warm cum fill me. ‘Fuck you did so good for me’ he smiled kissing my lips softly, ‘I don’t think I can walk..’ ‘it’s okay I’ll clean you up’ he walks to his desk and gets a rag and wipes both of us down. Once were cleaned up and I’m standing he walked up to me and smiled. ‘Well I guess I’ll be fucking you more often huh?’ I smiled ‘oh definitely’.

I smiled and walked out of the classroom fuck he better give me a good grade for that.

A/n: I hope you enjoyed plus Don’t hate this is my first smut ever so I’m so so sorry if it’s bad pls leave some tips in my inbox!

Taglist!

@iluvmattsbeard @m9ttsverse

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#Spotify #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #teacher x student

[theragethatisdesire]

scary dog privilege - best friend!eren x reader one-shot, 18+!!

hellooooo i have had this in my wips for like two entire months and i am giddy and ready to share it. this hopefully will just be a one-shot, but you guys know i love to create a universe for each of my erens so god only knows where we'll end up with this one. best friend eren appears to be my angstiest, broodiest one yet, and i love him lol. wanted to make some use of classic fanfic tropes, so here we get best friend eren and fake dating!! woohoo!!

beware: this is absolute, pure filth once you get into it lol

pairing: eren jaeger x afab reader

wc: 9.1k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, consensual hook-up, rough sex, biting, dirty talk, oral sex (fem!receiving), alcohol use, cussing, squirting, penetrative vaginal sex, swearing, use of names (baby, pretty baby, my girl), crying, multiple orgasms, eren being a menace per usual, jean's an asshole (i'm so sorry you guys know i love him but it had to happen)

have fun ;)

-

This is a terrible idea, and it had been from the start. You know it and so does he, but you had insisted. Now that you’ve made your bed, you have to lay in it, you suppose. You press your forehead to the cold, tinted window of Eren’s ridiculous muscle car, ignoring the vibrations from the rock music he’s blaring and the consistent fluttering in your stomach, and think back to your conversation earlier that week.

“Come on, Eren. It’s just one night!”

“And what about after? When you run into Sasha at the coffee place or Armin after work? Did we just suddenly ‘break up’?” Eren scoffs, pushing past you to grab a Red Bull out of the fridge. You collapse into one of the barstools in his kitchen, having prepared yourself to accept defeat from the moment you posed the question.

“I just can’t face him alone,” you sigh, “it’s only been four months and Sasha told me he’s hooked up with not one, not two, but three girls already. I haven’t even had a drunken makeout at the bar.”

“So? Just because Jean’s been whoring around doesn’t mean you have anything to prove.” Eren's tone is thoroughly unimpressed as he pops the tab to his energy drink.

“You’re my best friend. I just need one tiny favor.”

“Who would even believe us? It’s not like it’s a huge party- we know everyone going.”

You cock an eyebrow. “How many times have Annie and Mikasa tried to con us into a double date? Connie’s been teasing us for years, not to mention the waiter at lunch the other day–”

“Fine!”

“Fine?”

“Fine. I’ll be your date for one night. But all of the explaining is up to you. And,” Eren takes a sip, leveling a glare at you over the top of the can, “I’m going on the record as saying that this is a bad idea.”

He may be reckless, arrogant, and a bit of a brat, but if Eren Jaeger is one thing consistently, he was right. You chance a glance at your “date”. He’s in his typical uniform: black hoodie, black jeans, the little silver chain he never takes off, key swinging over his chest as he turns the car. He looks good, appealing even. If Jean dares to show up with a girl, she won’t consider you to have downgraded, that’s for sure.

You consider your own outfit, an anxious fist tightening in your stomach at the thought of seeing Jean for the first time as an ex. He would have hated it. Your nothing-to-the-imagination outfit is all thanks to Sasha.

You had clued Sasha in on the plan; you hoped having one more agent in on your secret would help sell the act. Sasha had gone all out, lending you an incredibly low-cut black top and some black leather pants that would have caused at least a twenty-minute argument with Jean. Had he not dumped you, you remind yourself bitterly. Sasha had insisted you borrow her all-black outfit to match Eren’s typical attire “just to be cute”. In hindsight, her enthusiasm about this whole situation should have been a red flag, but you’ve already gotten everything lined up, and it’s too late for regret.

It’s far too late for hindsight, too; you’re already ten minutes into receiving the official girlfriend treatment from Eren. He had worn you down on picking you up, opening the car door, the works. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he pulled out a bouquet of roses at this point. You can hear his obnoxious tone now: Even if you’re my fake girlfriend, you’re getting the full package. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.

Eren parallel parks smoothly on Armin’s quiet street, unusually busy with the buzz of a house party and lined with your friends’ cars. It’s Connie’s birthday, but Armin always hosts. It’s an unspoken rule at this point; you aren’t sure why he keeps volunteering, especially after Sasha had projectile vomited all over his bathroom at the last get-together, but again, dig your own grave and lie in it. You and Armin are in the same boat there.

When the car switches off, Eren takes a moment to consider you, wrapping and unwrapping his long fingers around the steering wheel, a nervous tic he’s had since high school. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you sigh, reaching for the door handle. Before you can wrap your hand around it, Eren leans over and pinches you harshly on the thigh. “Ow!”

“I open the door, remember?” Eren says, visibly annoyed.

You roll your eyes at him.“Isn’t this a bit much?”

“You think I’m going to be caught dead letting my ‘girlfriend’ open her own door? I have a reputation to uphold.”

You decide to bite back a snippy comment about the many girls who cried over Eren in college and cross your arms over your chest, pouting instead. “Fine.”

If Eren can be dramatic, so can you.

As naturally as if he had done it a hundred times, Eren slings his arm over your shoulders on the walk up towards the door; the weight of it, both physically and mentally, is heavier than you’re willing to acknowledge. When you catch sight of Bertholdt, Reiner, and Annie peering through the window, a flutter of nerves erupts your stomach; you reach a hand up to play with Eren’s fingers, absentmindedly spinning one of his rings and trying to sell the look as best you can. “We better pull this off.”

“It’ll be fine, just follow my lead.” Eren pulls you closer, kissing your hairline. Goosebumps rise all over your body; not at the action itself, but how disturbingly easy the affection seems to come to him. As Eren knocks on Armin’s bright red door, you pack that thought away and shove it to the back of your mind to collect dust.

“Hi…guys?” Armin’s friendly smile upon opening the door falters in confusion as he takes you in, absorbing the sight of you two intertwined on his doorstep. Armin’s wide, blue eyes flick between the two of you, and you can see the gears churning in his head, trying to make sense of how awfully close you and Eren are. Pitting your fake relationship against Armin’s intellect is the perfect first test; a nervous sweat breaks out under your skimpy outfit.

“Sup, ‘min?” Eren smiles back, the very picture of nonchalance, extending his free hand to shake Armin’s shoulder.

“Come on in.” Armin, ever polite, turns to allow for plenty of room for Eren to pull you inside. He doesn’t outright ask why Eren’s holding you, but his eyes betray his suspicions. It seems like your plan, as terrible as it is, is working. One down, a dozen or so to go.

Never dropping his arm from around your shoulders, Eren steers you into the living room where one of Connie’s favorite bands is already blasting from the speakers. Annie and Mikasa are curled up together in Armin’s recliner, hands interlocked as usual; Sasha and Connie are positioned at Armin’s bar cart, violently shaking two cocktail shakers apiece; Reiner, Bertholdt, Marco, and Jean are on the couch, arguing over something sports-related. With a sinking stomach, you notice that there’s only one unoccupied seat left in the room.

“My two favorite lovebirds!” Sasha cries, abandoning her cocktail shakers and rushing over to give you a hug. Upon Sasha’s impact, Eren drops his arm and grabs your hand that’s closest to him as a substitute, never taking his hands off of you. His actions are pointed, purposeful; every pair of eyes in the room looks between the two of you in surprise. You can practically feel a hazel-tinted laser beam burning a hole into your forehead. “You guys are so late; honeymoon phase gotcha already?”

“Laying it on a little thick, Sash,” you whisper into Sasha’s ear, cheeks burning. To your chagrin, Eren only curls his mouth in response.

“What?” Connie frowns, still shaking his drinks. “How long has that been a thing?”

You pause, your heart nearly stopping. You should have made up a story, you realize, something to explain–

“Just a few weeks.” The still-strange weight of Eren’s arm around your shoulder returns, and his jade eyes rest on you, adoration beaming through his always-cool gaze. Against your will, butterflies start dancing in your stomach; apparently Eren’s quite the actor.

“Yeah,” you jump in, grateful for Eren’s lead, “we just wanted to feel it out before we told everyone, that’s all.”

“Sasha knew.” Mikasa raises a suspicious eyebrow. Annie smirks at the two of you, a knowing look on her face.

“It’s about time.” Marco appears from the kitchen with a huge bowl of tortilla chips in one hand and salsa in the other. “Good for you guys.”

You can’t help yourself, finally meeting Jean’s eyes. He’s openly scowling at you, which is to be expected; where Eren is a criminally smooth liar, Jean wears his heart on his sleeve. You recognize that face all too well: anger to mask heartbreak, the same face he wore when you used to fight. For the first time, it occurs to you how cruel this plan might be, how Jean might react to you moving on with a mutual friend. Guilt washes over you, cold and heavy.

“Thanks for giving me a heads-up before you moved in on my fucking girlfriend, Jaeger,” Jean snips, taking a long swallow of his beer.

The guilt drops away from you as quickly as your jaw; you’ve forgotten what a prick Jean can be. Eren has been slowly guiding you over to the singular remaining seat throughout the conversation, and after Jean’s comment, he tugs you down firmly onto his lap. He rubs a large palm over your thigh, a blatant gesture of ownership.

“Not your girlfriend anymore, Kirschstein.” You can hear the distinct note of pride ringing through his voice, hear the nasty look leveled at Jean without turning to face him. It’s been fifteen minutes of fake dating, car ride included, and you can already feel the friendship line blurring. Your head spins.

“Anyway,” Armin, ever the gracious host, interrupts, breaking the awkward tension that has settled over the room, “what bar does everyone want to head out to later? Connie gets the first pick, being the birthday boy.”

The conversation in the room picks back up into a familial bickering over the evening’s next destination. All of your friends have become accustomed to the occasional awkward moment over the years now that some of you have begun to couple up; Mikasa and Annie especially are notorious for bickering like an old married couple, no matter who’s around.

“I need a drink,” you murmur to Eren, moving to stand.

“Do you mind getting me one, babe? Don’t want to lose our seat.” Eren pecks you on the cheek, smiling up at you as if everything about your situation right now is normal, natural for him. Jean’s eyes follow you every step of the way, and your face burns.

Over the years you’ve been friends with him, it’s never been lost on you that Eren’s attractive, not after the dozens of women he ran through in his college years. Peeking over your shoulder now, however, feels like you’re seeing him for the first time, seeing him the way the world sees him. Heavy-set dark brows frame his bright eyes beautifully, his jaw’s grown sharp and severe, and his lips are soft and pouty, stretching into a wicked smirk with sharp canines. He had grown into a heartbreaker, and he’s your best friend and now fake boyfriend– you swat away your private admiration as soon as it comes, taking a deep breath to center yourself and rifling through the bar cart in a daze.

“Want me to make you one?” Sasha waves a bright red concoction under your nose. “Connie and I made them- it has three different types of liquor in it, and you can’t taste any of it!”

One sip of the tiny cocktail straw has your nose wrinkling in disgust. You’ve worked behind a bar since the day you turned twenty-one, and the drink Sasha’s offering you tastes like an overly-syruped nightmare. “Um…no, that’s okay Sash. I’ll probably just stick to beer.”

Connie sticks his tongue out at you. “Boring!”

Predictably, Sasha pouts. “Okay, but we’re definitely making you take a shot. We can chill it in the kitchen, want to help me get some ice?”

Holding up a bottle of tequila, she cocks her head toward the kitchen and wobbles her eyebrows madly. You almost laugh; anyone who can’t pick up on a hint from Sasha is walking around with earplugs and their eyes closed.

“Fine. Let me just grab Eren a beer, and I’ll meet you in there.”

“Ugh, couples,” Connie rolls his eyes, wandering over to fiddle with the dusty karaoke machine that Armin claims broke years ago. You’ve always been dubious as to the truth of that, but knowing your friends, you can’t blame him.

Opening the cooler, you smile to yourself; Armin remembered your favorite IPA from the brewery down the road and stocked the cooler accordingly, nestling a few Hazy Daze’s between Reiner and Bertholdt’s domestics. You pick your way through the haphazard seating arrangements back over to Eren, holding a cold Budweiser bottle towards him. He pauses in his conversation with Reiner, grabbing your hand that holds the beer and removing it from your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, brushing them over in a light kiss. He looks you up and down lecherously as he does it, a dangerous curve to his lips.

You return a weak half-smile, doing your best to not appear outwardly shaken by Eren’s behavior and keep the what the fuck? thoughts from showing plainly on your face. Eren waves you off to the kitchen with a light pat on your bottom, innocent as ever.

“How’s it going?” Sasha asks, safe now in the privacy of the kitchen. Her face is already full-flush with excitement and that awful cocktail she was sipping.

“I mean, it seems like everyone’s buying it. Jean looks pissed, though.”

“What were you expecting? He’s always thought Eren had a thing for you.”

“Everyone thinks Eren has a thing for me,” you roll your eyes, “at least it’s working in my favor now.”

Sasha fixes you with a glare, wobbling slightly. “If you don’t think Eren actually has a thing for you, you must be blind. Deaf, too.”

“Sasha–”

“I mean, even if you hadn’t told me, I would have fallen for it. Is it not, like, weird for you guys? That it’s just natural for you two to–” Sasha burps, interrupting herself, and giggles. “Just makes ya think.”

“Sasha!” Connie calls from the living room. “Let’s do Eye of the Tiger first!”

“Woo!” Sasha shouts, abandoning you and running into the room to take part in the newly-revived karaoke festivities.

You stand alone in the kitchen, shell-shocked by Sasha’s observations. The truly irritating thing is that she’s entirely right. Not only do Eren’s little kisses here and there, the constant touching, even the pet names come naturally, it almost feels…nice. It’s as easy for you to receive his affection as it is for him to give it. You peek around the corner, grimacing at Sasha and Connie’s amplified wailing, just wanting to look at him. Really look at him.

Kicked back, beer in hand and jacket thrown over the back of his chair, Eren oozes charisma. Even doing nothing but holding a conversation with Mikasa, the room gravitates around him. Jean’s angry glare never leaves him; Armin has switched to drinking Budweiser, even though you know he hates it; Annie’s nodding along with whatever Eren’s saying; even Sasha and Connie are angling their performance around him, alternating between singing together and holding their microphones towards him, trying to elicit a reaction. He has this undeniable magnetic force, one that you aren’t exempt from.

You’d met him nearly a decade ago, in high school, and initially couldn’t stand him. His hair-trigger temper had hardly cooled with age, and his ego had gotten unthinkably larger, but you grew to find both of them charming– to a degree. One thing led to another, and before you knew it, Eren was the one cleaning you up and getting you drunk after every bad breakup, introducing you to all of your favorite sports teams and lending you jerseys for the games; hell, he even read that smutty fairy fantasy series you’d been obsessed with in college. Had the man you attempted Star Wars marathons with until you both fell asleep really looked like that the entire time?

He catches your stare, beckoning you over with one long, crooked finger. As his girlfriend for the night, you have to obey, even though you would much rather roll your eyes at the cliche.

“Missed you,” he mumbles as you sit back on his lap, breath hot against the shell of your ear.

“You too,” you respond accordingly, wrapping your arm lovingly around his shoulder. Eren’s eyes flit down to your cleavage, but knowing him, it’s impossible to discern if it’s part of the act, or Eren being himself.

His hands rest comfortably over the casing of your pants, one on your thigh and one on the small of your back, one thumb rubbing circles into your soft flesh. Reveling in the drag of his rings over your clothed body, you couldn’t help but wonder how they’d feel on your bare skin, on your throat, on your–

Surprising yourself at the dirty direction of your thoughts, you swallow your beer too quickly, coughing. Eren, who had coincidentally been taking a sip at the same time, laughs at you mid-sip, choking beside you and spraying beer out of his nose.

The entire room bursts into laughter; Eren regains his composure and joins in good-naturedly. You giggle along, relief coursing over your body. Sure, Eren might look a little extra handsome tonight and be a bit touchy because you asked him to, but he’s still Eren.

“They’re practically in sync already.” Hitch, Marco’s girlfriend who had apparently joined the party while Sasha and you were in the kitchen, rests her face on her hand dreamily.

“It’s a little freaky,” Annie observes with narrowed eyes, but the slight curve of her lip betrays her. Not only were they believing your little farce, but they were happy for you. That’s enough to make you flush a little, realizing how naturally everyone’s just accepted your fake relationship. Everyone but one person, at least.

Jean suddenly stands, ripping a beer from the cooler and storming into the kitchen. The laughter dies as quickly as it had come, everyone exchanging nervous looks.

“I’ll go talk to him,” Eren offers, nudging you off of his lap. You blanch.

“Eren, I don’t know if you should-”

“It’s fine,” Eren drops a soft peck on your forehead, walking away before you can stop him. You meet Mikasa’s eyes, wide and concerned. To everyone else, Eren’s walking calmly, not a hint of aggression in his gait. But you know him, know him well enough to catch the anger simmering in his eyes, quiet, but there.

Jean and Eren have always been friends, albeit reluctant ones at first, but too similar where it counted not to get along. That had abruptly come to a halt when you had fallen for Jean. At first Eren had been confused, but over time that confusion had melted into constant irritation. Jean and you were wrong for one another, you know that in hindsight, but at the time, you had chalked all the fighting up to a passionate relationship. The constant tears had driven Eren nearly to a breaking point; multiple times you had begged him not to bring his frustration to physical blows. And now, your fake-boyfriend slash best friend and ex-boyfriend with the two worst tempers out of everyone you know are “talking”. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek to keep the worry in your chest.

“Are you alright?” The question comes from Armin, who’s placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry that Jean isn’t taking the news well.”

“There’s no news,” Mikasa says low enough for none of the others to hear over the music, now standing directly behind Armin.

A neat little cross appears between Armin’s eyebrows. “They’re-”

“Faking,” she interrupts Armin, “they aren’t dating.”

Armin stammers, trying to correct her and apologize to you for her at the same time, but you just sigh. “How’d you know?”

“One of you would have told me,” she shrugs, “or at least I’d like to think you would.”

“It’s just…I couldn’t bear to show up alone, not with Jean here and apparently sleeping around since the breakup.” You cross your arms over your chest, grabbing your own shoulders tightly. It’s your fault, you know it is, but you had only wanted to feel a little less pathetic, a little less heartbroken. Drama had been an unfortunate and unexpected side effect.

“Why would Eren agree to that? It seems silly,” Armin muses, noticing your glare and immediately turning bright red, “I- I don’t mean you’re silly, just, you shouldn’t-”

“You know.” Mikasa bumps him. The slightest hint of a smile plays on her face, a knowing look directed at you. You frown, trying to look confused through the pink rising to your face.

A loud crash from the kitchen catches all of your attention, saving you from an uncomfortable line of conversation but making your heart beat that much faster. Dashing to the kitchen door, the entire house party hot on your heels, your thundering heart sinks.

Eren has Jean pinned up against Armin’s cabinets, forearm tight against the other man’s neck. Jean’s still seething at Eren, raw ego washing against the cool anger blazing in Eren’s eyes.

“Need to learn how to watch your fucking mouth, Kirschstein–”

“Eren!” Your voice is surprisingly firm, given the nauseating mixture of embarrassment, confusion, and panic swirling in your stomach. “Let him go!”

“Do you want to tell her what you said, or should I?” Eren hisses, nudging into Jean further. Jean’s eyes dart to you, back to Eren, and for a fleeting moment, you have hope that maybe this all can be resolved peacefully. And then Jean makes a fatal mistake.

He spits directly in Eren’s face.

Just as Eren swings, Reiner collides with the two, just barely catching Eren by his forearm before he can make contact with Jean’s cheek. Bertholdt, as always, is Reiner’s shadow, grabbing Eren by the shoulders and wrenching him away from Jean. It takes Connie, Reiner, Marco, and Bertholdt to restrain both of them, Armin standing in the middle and shouting how ridiculous the fight is above the curses.

“It’s my fucking birthday, Jean, come on bro!” Connie growls, pinning Jean to the cabinets with his back.

“Jaeger- back off!” Reiner manages to pull him back a few inches, hardly able to contain Eren, who’s struggling furiously, in his massive arms. Jean finally relents, slouching into the multiple arms holding him back. After several seconds, Eren does the same, never taking his eyes off of Jean. Into the shocked silence, Armin bravely speaks first.

“Maybe we should leave,” he suggests awkwardly, ���take the party elsewhere.”

You pity him, poor Armin and his hosting inclination. Eren finally turns to face you. The wrath laid bare in his eyes sends a chill over your body.

“We are,” he spits, sparing Jean one last threatening glance before storming over, grabbing you harshly by the wrist, and practically dragging you towards the door.

“Eren, wait–” you try to reason with him and dig your heels in, but it’s fruitless. Eren’s strong, stronger than you, and you don’t stand a chance stopping him now that his mind’s made up.

He doesn’t drop the act at the car, ripping your car door open, waiting impatiently for you to step into your seat, and slamming the door behind you. As soon as he turns the ignition, the same angry rock music you had listened to on the way over blasts from the speakers; Eren makes no move to turn it down and neither do you. After so many years together, his temper rarely scares you anymore; it’s more of a nuisance than anything when it flares. You stare out of the window, seething with anger, arms crossed and foot tapping.

Five minutes into the drive, you realize Eren isn’t taking you to your house, but to his. What he’s thinking, you can’t be sure, but you go ahead and start making your plans to give him an earful and call your Uber the moment you get there. You just can’t wrap your mind around why he would attack Jean and embarrass you like that– Eren may have been a hothead, but rarely did he let his temper escalate to that degree, especially against a friend.

Eren whips his car into the driveway, parking with such force you nearly knock your head against the headrest. You reach for your door handle, ready to throw it open, but Eren’s faster. He hits the child lock button and slams his own door behind him, storming around the car.

“The fucking child lock button?” You leap out of your seat once he’s opened your door, glaring up at him with your fists curled by your sides. “Is that what I am, Eren, a child?”

“Come inside.” Eren’s voice is low, dangerous. You’re too angry to indulge his temper.

“No,” you snap, “I’m going home.”

No sooner have you pulled your phone out to call an Uber than Eren snatches it from you, sliding it into his pocket. He repeats himself, more forceful this time. “Come inside.”

You stand rooted to the spot for a beat, so angry you aren’t sure what you want to do more: run home, punch him, or kick his precious car headlight in. Eren simply glares down his strong nose at you, face unreadable as ever, rage still glittering in his eyes.

“Come inside, please,” Eren repeats himself again through gritted teeth. You decide you’ll indulge him and go inside, hear him out, and then punch him. At least it’ll catch him off guard, and you’ll have a better chance of getting your shot in. Without another word, you stomp up the walkway to his house, into the house, and into the kitchen, shoving your shoes off. Stupid fucking kitchens, you think to yourself, kicking your bare foot against the base of his kitchen island. Immature, but the little burst of violence feels good.

Whether Eren’s house smells like him or Eren smells like his house you’ve never been able to decide. The distinct scent of him envelops you: a boyish, sharp smell, laced with a hint of the weed he kept in the living room. Ordinarily it’s a comforting smell, but tonight, it nearly makes you sick with irritation. Fighting with Eren is something you do rarely, but you know the both of you well enough to buckle down. Arguing with Eren means you have a long, nasty, and emotionally gutting night ahead of you. You’re more than ready, fists shaking by your side.

“What the hell was that, Eren?”

He doesn’t answer, swinging the fridge open and grabbing a beer. He twists the top, tossing it aside carelessly and taking a healthy swig, bun bouncing on the back of his head, making no move to acknowledge your presence.

“Answer me!” Your voice rattles the cabinets. “Yeah, was the fake dating a stupid idea? Sure, fine, it was stupid, but starting a fucking fight with Jean on poor Connie’s birthday–”

“You didn’t hear what he said,” Eren says simply, still chugging his beer and avoiding your gaze.

“What could he have said to make you do that? What was so awful that you had to–”

“It was about you.” Eren finally brings his eyes to yours, staring you down through the little hairs that have escaped his bun with such intensity that it nearly knocks you clean on your ass.

Your heart stutters. “You– what did he say?”

“Told me if I wanted to taste your ‘slutty pussy’ so bad, I could just smell his breath. S’why he spit in my face.” Eren’s fingers wrap and unwrap around the beer bottle anxiously.

Your mouth drops agape, tears immediately springing to your eyes. No, you set your resolve, praying your body cooperates. “He…he said that?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d been fucking him?” Eren spares you another scalding look. Your temper flares at his anger, one fire against another.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” Eren snaps, “this whole thing was your idea. What am I to you, just some toy you can dangle in front of your pussyboy ex boyfriend? How long have you been fucking him?”

“I haven’t been fucking him,” you hiss, “he lied because he was jealous. And you’re not some toy, you’re– you’re my best friend. I needed you.”

Eren freezes, eyeing you across the kitchen. His expression has changed, infinitesimally so, a pinch of the fury fading from his face but none of the heat. It strikes you that in the years you’ve known him, he’s never looked at you like this before, not once. “Say it again.”

“You’re my–”

“The other thing.”

“I needed you.”

“Again.”

“I needed– fuck, Eren, what is this? Some kind of game?”

He stalks toward you, silhouetted by the light behind him and looking sinful, closing you in. He’s forceful and shameless as he backs you into the counter, as quintessentially Eren as he can be. “Say it one more time.”

“I…needed you,” you indulge him, brain slowing down to pick up each little detail. His cologne– when did he start wearing cologne?– musky and thick in the air, one of his tattoos peeking above the collar of his shirt, the tangible sensation of emerald eyes dragging along every inch of you.

“I like the way you say that,” his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. You stare blatantly. His mouth is red, pouty, and full, bottom lip a little chapped from where he was chewing it in the car. “That you need me.”

Words are lost on you; even if you could gather something to say, it would probably get stuck in your throat the moment it materialized. His presence is choking you. He brings one of those massive hands up, cupping your jaw, running a thumb over your lip. His posture, looming over you, is demanding, almost hungry.

“Do you still?”

“Still?”

“Need me.”

You blink, eyes still watery. “How?”

“You’re a smart girl,” Eren murmurs, hot breath laced with beer fanning over your face, “you know. You’ve always known.”

You do know. When he ghosted a hand over your thighs at the bar, when you fell asleep on his chest watching a movie, the way he had kissed your head, nearly fought Jean, protected you at every twist and turn. You had kept it relegated to the recesses of your brain, slid a hand between your legs and allowed it to simmer to the surface, maybe for a moment, before pushing it back down. You had always known. He has you on the edge of a cliff, and with a thin gasp, you understand him now: he wants you to jump. And so do you.

“I still need you. Now.”

Something critical snaps in both of you. The countertop digs into your lower back, a beautiful, aching pain blooming up your spine to meet the sting of his teeth sinking into your bottom lip. He’s kissing you; this magnetic, maddening man is kissing you, hard. It’s all tongue and teeth, fingers wrapping in hair, hands exploring familiar places in a new way. Greedy, demanding sounds slip through his teeth as he paws at your clothes, squeezes your curves through the silken shirt Sasha had lent you.

“This shirt is ridiculous,” Eren pants into your mouth, “wish I wasn’t about to rip it off of you.”

A little whimper leaves your mouth at that, and your knees buckle. Eren catches you, grabbing you by your torso and lifting you up onto the kitchen counter; you use the extra height to wrap your legs around his hips. A groan from deep in Eren’s chest rumbles against your lips as he rolls his clothed cock insistently against you. The low, simmering heat in your stomach catches fire; he’s big, even through both of your pants, rubbing himself into where you need him most. A hand creeps up your neck, grabbing a fistful of hair and forcing you to look up at him. It hits you how large he is; six feet and some change of taut, corded muscle, bad intentions, temptation.

His voice is quiet and controlled, so close to your face that his nose moves against yours as he speaks. “I’m going to take you to my room. If that’s not okay with you, I need you to say it right now.”

You nod urgently, relishing the burn in your scalp where he holds your hair tight. “I want it- want you.”

Eren slides you off of the kitchen counter and holds you firmly around his waist, making a beeline for his room. You mouth at his neck, enjoying the little grunts he makes against your ear. You drop unceremoniously onto the bed, left to watch as he tears off his shirt.

Oh, and do you watch. It’s difficult to comprehend that your best friend is the man standing above you. You’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but not like this: chest heaving, covered in a thin sheen of sweat, muscles flexing as he reaches for your shirt, ripping it from you and tossing it away. Your eyes draw towards the defined v leading down beneath his jeans, and you wonder how it might taste under your tongue.

Your bra comes next, Eren moving down to take your lips in his again as he deals with the clasp. He pushes you onto your back, kissing down your neck, sneaking harsh bites in between the gentle presses of his lips.

“Careful, Eren– you’ll leave marks,” you gasp, pulling at his hair.

“Good,” Eren replies against your neck, emphasizing his point with another deep bite to your neck, “you wanted everyone to think I was your little boyfriend, didn’t you? Let them see.” 

Your panties grow damp and hot against your core at that; you have no other response than to choke out a stunted moan.

“Fuck, you have no idea,” he growls, traveling down, teeth scraping the top of your breast, “what you do to me. How long I’ve wanted you.”

Your mind falters, caught in the crosswires of Eren’s confession and the way you’re clutching his head to your breasts, fingers desperately threaded in his dark hair and pulling him as close as you could get him. His mouth is so hot it burns, even against your feverish skin. 

“Remember…” Eren muses, mouthing his way down your stomach, “remember college? When you’d wear those slutty little dresses out?”

“I remember,” you breathe, impatient and urging him towards your lower half.

“Used to come home from the bar and jerk myself off, thinking about this sweet little cunt,” Eren tears your pants down your legs, panties following, “could practically see it in those short ass dresses. I’d cum thinking about how you’d sound when I stuck my tongue in it.”

A lewd whine rips out of your throat before you can stop it. Eren’s pressing your thighs open now, and his words and the quick little swipes he’s making across your clit are making you dizzy.

“Fuck…” Eren trails off, eyes wide, “got such a pretty pussy. Just look at you.”

“Eren, please,” you’ve never been the begging type, but the bright green eyes peering up at you from where your legs are propped open by broad, strong shoulders take your sense away.

“I’ve got you,” he shushes you, grinning as he leans into your center. A thick stripe of a lick up the center elicits a groan from you both. “So fucking sweet. Knew you would be.”

Eren hooks his arms around your legs, dragging you down the bed to be flush with his face. Eren’s no amateur when it comes to women, you know that, but you had never dared to let yourself imagine what that might translate to in practice.

He licks little figure-eights around your clit, not quite hitting it; he’s teasing you, the antagonist that he is. You tremble under him, little gasps and whimpers puffing out of your lips. Eren smiles contentedly against your pussy, nose flush with your clit, nudging against it rhythmically as he licks through your folds, circling your entrance. You bring your hands down your body, grabbing a fistful of dark hair and pulling him closer to you; you don’t even know what you want, the singular word more ringing in your head like a church bell.

Eren chuckles. “You need something?”

“Stop fucking with me,” you breathe, inwardly cringing at the desperation in your voice, laid bare for him to see. You brace yourself, looking down to meet his eyes, and instantly regret it. The anger has faded entirely from his face, replaced by an unyielding hunger. A wet, wicked smile plays at his mouth; you can physically feel your cunt dripping just at the sight of him.

“You want me to stop fucking with you?”

“Please, Eren, I need you–”

“That’s all you had to say.”

And then, like he does with everything else in his life, Eren licks into you like his life depends on it, like he’s trying to drown himself in you. His tongue pushes in and out of your hole, swirling around your clit, and you can distantly hear the most obscene sounds you’ve ever heard slipping from your mouth. He’s so good, better than you’ve had in years; you throw your head back against the bedspread, hardly able to focus on breathing.

Just when you think it can’t get any more intense, Eren slides one long finger inside of you, curling it against a spongy spot in your walls that makes you see stars. He chuckles at the loud, long moan that you let out.

“My girl likes being full, doesn’t she?” He pumps his finger slowly, testing your limits. Your walls clutch down on him, begging.

“M-more,” you stutter, barely able to form a coherent word through your panting.

“What was that?” You can hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“I need– fuck– I need more.”

“Magic word?”

“Please, Eren, fuck!”

“Good, good girl,” he coos, pushing another finger into you, “so sweet and needy for me, yeah?”

Your eyes fly open at the stretch, the fullness of his fingers moving inside you. His other hand comes up to push on your lower stomach; your head snaps up, and you frown at him, panicked.

“W-what are you– oh,” you hate yourself for it, but you can’t even speak as he applies pressure onto your abdomen. You feel strange; it’s just right and too much all at once. The familiar bubble of an impending orgasm swells in the pit of your stomach, but it’s more intense, wetter than you’ve ever felt it. 

“Close?”

“Mhm,” you force out through gritted teeth. Eren moves his elbow slightly, just enough to bear down on your hip bone where you’re pushing your hips up towards him unwittingly. “But it- it feels weird…I, I can’t–”

“Sh,” he murmurs, mouth back against your clit, “you can do it, just for me, I know you can. It’s going to feel so good, you’ll see.”

Your eyes roll back in your head as you teeter on the precipice, blood roaring in your ears. You want to, you need to–

“Cum all over my fucking face baby, give it to me.”

The band in you snaps, your eyes rolling back into your head. You can feel your cunt spasming around his fingers, pushing something out. Liquid sprays from you, all over Eren’s face, soaking the sheets beneath you. You can’t even hear the lewd sounds coming out of your mouth, too surprised at the gushing orgasm. It finally winds down, and once you gather the energy, you shove insistently at his hand still pumping in and out of your sensitive pussy.

“You have the messiest little cunt,” Eren chuckles at you, wiping his face and kissing his way back up to your gasping mouth, “knew you were a squirter.”

He lands a few gentle taps against your sore pussy, and you flinch. 

“I–I’ve never…” you take a shaky breath in between every word, “never done that before.”

Pride illuminates his face. “Really? I knew you could do it– just for me, right?”

You nod, sitting up on trembling elbows. “Your cock, I– I want it in my mouth. Please let me.”

You reach down to fumble with the button of his jeans, but Eren grabs your wrist, pulling your hand up to kiss it gently. “Next time. I’d never forgive myself if I busted before I got to fuck you.”

Too overwhelmed to answer, you simply nod again, sitting back as he shimmies his pants off. Once you catch sight of it, your mouth waters. He’s big, bigger than you thought, wide enough to where your fingers wouldn’t touch if you grabbed it, and long enough to make you gag. The thought goes straight between your legs, cunt still throbbing and clutching around nothing, and a rush of anticipation washes over you.

Eren flips you over onto your stomach, shoving a couple of pillows underneath your hips to prop your ass up. “Christ,” he exhales, landing a sharp smack to your ass.

“Please, Eren- oh!” You jump; Eren’s circling your asshole, using the mess you’ve already made as lube to pop the tip of his thumb in. “Eren…”

“You’d let me fuck you there, one day, I bet,” he mutters, more to himself than to you, you think. Your body tenses in response, the memory of your first glance at his cock fresh in your mind. Eren swears under his breath. “Maybe next time, then.”

You hear him spit, hear the slick sounds of him lathering himself up. You have a brief moment to think to yourself, with the last glimmering shreds of consciousness in your orgasm-dazed mind, that this is Eren. This is your best friend, pinning you to the bed by the back of your neck, rubbing your lower back, admiring you, fucking you. And then the head of his cock is pressing into you, and that last little bit of hesitation gives way.

“Oh, baby,” Eren bends over you to growl in your ear, “never gonna forgive you for keeping this perfect pussy from me all these years.”

“Eren, it’s so– oh my god,” you trail off, eyes rolling back into your head as a few more inches of him sink into you. The way your body stretches for him, the way he fills you, is unbelievable, sweetened by just the slightest burning sensation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pressing his forehead into the back of your neck, “you feel so fucking good. Best I’ve ever had.”

You whine at that, pushing your hips back into his and forcing him to bottom out. Eren swears against your skin, nearly collapsing on top of you. Your cunt pulses around him, desperately trying to hold him. You can hardly fathom the weight of him inside you; you’re just so full, the word runs through your mind on a loop.

And when he rolls his hips into yours– you nearly start praying. He drags against your walls so nicely, you nearly cum again then and there. He works up a torturously slow rhythm, grinding his hips into yours. You bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying your hardest to suppress the obscene groan about to leave your mouth. You taste blood.

“Never giving this pussy up,” Eren grunts above you, “never letting you give this to anybody else again. It’s mine, isn’t it?”

You nod into the pillow beneath your head, tears pricking at your eyes. He’s picking up the pace now, and the exquisite push-and-pull rhythm of Eren moving inside of you coupled with the fact that it’s Eren moving inside of you is destroying any semblance of intelligent conversation you can muster.

“Say it’s mine,” his face is beside yours now. A hand grabs your hair, turning your face towards him. You know how dazed you must look, mouth open in a permanent gasp, eyes watery and full of hearts. “God, you look fucking incredible. Say it.”

“My…my pussy is,” you swallow hard around the delicious knot of shame in your throat, “yours. It’s yours.”

“That’s my girl,” Eren sits back up, thrusting even faster, “my pussy, my girl. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” you pant, canting your hips back against his, feeling your next orgasm approach embarrassingly fast. Eren understands, already knows your body as well as he knows you, and moves the angle of his hips just so to hit that spot he had found so quickly with his fingers earlier. You keen, drooling into the pillow, letting him fuck you stupid.

Eren shoves you over the edge for the second time that night. It’s toe curling, almost violent in nature, the way you cum around him, listening to him hiss as you tighten around him, vice-like. He fucks you through your orgasm for just long enough to see you through it, and flips you onto your back the moment you begin to twitch and shove at his hips, desperate for a break.

You slowly blink your eyes open in surprise, letting the tears roll down your cheeks, expecting to see Eren lining himself up, ready to fuck you senseless once more. Instead, he’s studying you, wiping a tear from your face, licking it off of his finger. There’s a moment happening here, an important one, one you don’t have the mental capacity to absorb right now.

“I want to see you now,” Eren says quietly, “need to see your pretty face when I cum, m’kay?”

You nod dumbly, not knowing how to respond to him in the thick air hanging between you. Before Eren can get any more words out of his open mouth, a loud ring startles you both.

Your phone is buzzing on the floor where it fell from Eren’s pocket; the name on the screen nearly stops your heart. Jean.

You stare into Eren’s eyes, a long, silent beat passes between you both. Your hazy mind is scrambling, grasping at anything you can say to take his mind off of the awkward interruption, but to your surprise, Eren cracks a grin. It’s a wicked grin, prettier than the devil himself and twice as evil.

“Your other boyfriend calling? Checking up on you?”

“He’s not my-”

“Better not be. Not after what I did to you tonight,” Eren’s voice drips with ego. Something in his eyes is territorial, carnal.

You find your words, but they come out quiet. “He’s not. Never again.”

Eren’s grin grows darker. He’s nudging your knees apart with his own, reaching down and pulling one of your legs to wrap around his waist. He’s pushing himself in now, the ringing of your phone fading into the background as the all-encompassing stretch of Eren inside you takes over your thoughts.

“Such a good girl,” he coos, thumbing at your bottom lip, “such a good mouth. Always telling me what I want to hear.”

You nod again, urgently this time, pulling your other leg up to hook them around his waist, hold him inside you, make sure he never leaves again. You’re addicted already; addicted to the pressure in your abdomen, addicted to the way his tip kisses your cervix, addicted to the taste of his sweat as you lick a strip of it from his face, cheekbone to temple.

“I…” you aren’t sure how to articulate how good it is, how good he is. A defeated laugh of your own making interrupts you. “You feel so fucking good. I feel so fucking good right now.”

“God, just look at you, all fucked out for me. You love it, don’t you?” Eren kisses your forehead, face to face with you after propping his elbows on either side of your face. “Love how I fuck you like a whore, don’t you? Tell me, baby.”

“I love it,” your voice is quivering, and you’re vaguely aware of tears streaming down your face. You’re overstimulated, you at least know that, but he just feels so good that asking him to stop seems more painful than letting him keep hammering into you.

“My pretty baby, you’re so fucking perfect,” Eren rambles, “so pretty when you cry for me.”

You can’t break away from his gaze, not through the tears or the rapid-fire speed of him fucking into you. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely hold them up; Eren’s letting a flurry of little grunts and groans fly out, grabbing onto your cheek with one hand.

“Gonna cum soon,” he huffs, hips still pistoning into you hard enough to hurt, “gonna cum in your pussy, really make it mine, okay?”

“Okay,” you whimper, clamping down on him at the mere thought of it.

“Fuck, you like that don’t you?” He seethes against your forehead, thrusts beginning to falter. “You want to be mine? Want this pretty cunt stuffed full of my cum?”

You can feel him getting closer now, sloppy thrusts punching into your cervix, the ache of bruises forming on your inner thighs as he uses you, chasing his orgasm. You force your eyes open, meeting bright, hypnotizing green. Your voice is going to break, you know it, you hate it, you love him for it. “I– I want to be yours. P-please cum in me Eren, I need it.”

He slams into you one last time, holding his hips as tightly to yours as he can manage, cumming deep inside you with a breathless curse. You arch your back, relishing the feel of his cum in you, warm and filling. Even in your fucked-out mind, you know it’s a lot; you can feel the drip of it, seeping out around his cock and down onto the sheets. The leaden collapse of his body into yours, the gradual softening of him inside you, grounds you, pulling you down from the clouds and back into the bed.

It’s Eren on top of you, sweaty skin clinging to yours, his cum that you begged him for leaking out of your abused pussy. Your eyes shoot open. He’s incredibly heavy, your breath still coming out in short puffs as you try to catch it. He slides out of you; one last pitiful whimper leaving your lips as you find yourself empty.

“Holy shit,” Eren breathes out into the tension, a humorless and exhausted laugh punctuating his statement. As he rolls off of you, you’re overcome with the urge to smack him.

“That’s one way of putting it.” You scrounge around in the bed, trying to find the edge of the sheets to cover yourself with. Eren lays beside you, arm tossed over his eyes, as if the entire axis of your friendship hadn’t just flipped on its head. After a beat, you speak your mind, testing the waters. “I should probably call Jean back.”

That catches his attention. Eren sits up, scowling at you. “Why?”

“Maybe he wants to apologize.”

Eren snorts, rolling off of the bed and pulling you up with him, bridal-style; you aren’t sure where he’s taking you, but all the fight’s been fucked out of you, and you melt into his arms, eyes falling closed. “Who fucking cares?”

“I might,” you answer quietly, adjusting to the heat radiating off of his body. When your eyes open, you realize he’s carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up. Your heart thuds sadly in your chest, overcome with so many emotions you couldn’t begin to name them if you tried. You almost want to cry again, for a different reason now.

Eren sits you on the toilet, not responding to your small confession. He drops to his knees before you, reaches a long arm behind him over to the fixtures on his obscenely large bathtub, pushing the plug in and turning the water on. You draw your knees up to your chest, suddenly feeling incredibly exposed. Satisfied with the water temperature, Eren turns back to you, one hand placed firmly on each of your kneecaps.

“You don’t need him,” he says, solemn as you’ve ever seen him, “and from what I saw tonight, you don’t even want him. You know that now, right?”

There’s something about the way he says it, a hidden thread of pleading woven into his words. Your exhausted brain holds onto that, but your heart refuses to believe in it, broken and beating wildly in your chest.

“I just–”

“I meant it, you know,” Eren avoids your direct gaze, eyes flitting over every feature on your face, “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. Meant every word of it.”

You pause, wondering absentmindedly if he can hear the pounding of your pulse. “Really?”

“We don’t need to get into it now,” he shrugs, “but you know that. You know I’d do anything for you. You know I’d treat you well. ‘M not a bad guy.”

Your chest aches. “I know, but Eren–”

“So that wasn’t the best sex you’ve ever had in your life?” He fixes you with a singular, raised eyebrow, so serious that you giggle in his face.

“You might have me there.”

“Better than horseface?”

“Watch it.”

The light returns to his eyes; it loosens a hard little piece in your chest, flooding you with warmth. It hits you just how much you love that little sparkle amongst the green, just how much you would give to see it as often as you can. “We won’t talk about it, for now at least. I’ll get us cleaned up, and we can go watch–”

“Mamma Mia,” you blurt, hopeful.

“No fucking shot. But we can watch something else of your choosing, if you let me eat you out again.”

“Eren!” You smack his shoulder, scandalized. Both of you laugh; your fake outrage is twice as funny considering the state of you right now, smeared makeup and bruises on your neck.

He grins crookedly back at you. “That’s not a no.”

#aot x reader #eren x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren x you #eren yaeger x you #eren yeager smut #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fic #eren jaeger fanfiction

[thewritetofreespeech]

Could I request Astarion and his s/o getting into a sass competition where Astarion ends up confessing to her by accident and now he's all flustered?

Astarion x Reader

“Can’t you go any faster?”

“I’m not exactly as well versed into taking these off as I am in putting them on, darling.” Astarion quipped at you as he fiddled with the lock on your cuffs.

Being somewhat of an anti-hero liaisons these days, the group had been pinched on some trumped up but completely true & legal charges of petty theft and larceny. Your options were fight, flight, or get arrested when confronted by the guards and charges. And since you couldn’t fight a whole city’s worth of Iron Fists, and running also seemed unplausible as you’d have to come back to the city sometime, you decided to take you lumps and went to jail. Luckily, where there’s a will there’s a way. Or in this case: a vampire with a lockpick up his sleeve.

“Why did you wait to do me last anyway? Just to see me suffer?”

“Well,” Astarion cooed, “it does have a certain visual appeal.”

You clicked your teeth and rolled your eyes. “Could you just hurry up? I’m starting to lose the feeling in my hands. All the blood is rushing out of them.”

“Oh, well, we wouldn’t want that.”

“Well, if you want my blood again, you should be more sympathetic to my pain.” You told him. Sighing heavily as one arm was free and Astarion moved on to the other one.

“Don’t you threaten me. Besides, if you won’t give me what I want, I’ll just move on to some other lucky companion in our camp.”

“Ha! Like anyone else would have you.”

Astarion frowned. “I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who would welcome my teeth at their necks. Hundreds. Thousands!”

“Yeah. One blood obsessed drow and…who was the other one you tricked again?” You pulled at the shackles, which jiggled the irons and knocked the lockpick free, but unbroken. The vampire growled at you.

“I tricked you easy enough, didn’t I?”

“Only because I took pity on you.”

“Pity?!”

“Yeah.” You told him. “That poor, sad, puppy dog ‘please feed me’ look was just something I couldn’t say no to.”

Astarion growled again. “That is not how it happened. Besides, if you didn’t like it you wouldn’t keep asking for more.”

“Oh sure. Blame the victim.”

“You are not a victim!” He snapped at you. He seemed a little wounded by that one. Maybe you went a little too far. “Gods.” He cursed under his breath with a frown. “You are lucky I love you so much, otherwise I would just leave you here, chained up, and never bite you again. No matter how much you begged me.”

The lock finally snapped open and your arm fell to the side. You lifted it to rub your wrist but were uncharacteristically silent.

“Would it have been too much to expect a thank you??”

“Did you just say you love me?”

Astarion froze for a moment. A little wide eyed at your question. He seemed to be racking his brain for a moment. Trying to remember the conversation before an ‘Oh. Shit.’ expression came over his face. “What? Oh, that. Figure of speech darling, of course.” He let out a single nervous cough after that and a rushed, “let’s go meet up with the other.” Before he turned on his heels and made a speedy exit.

You rub your wrist one more time as a soft, shy smile came to your lips behind his back. You follow after him and meet up with the others. Waiting just outside the prison for the two of you, as apparently just around the corner was enough of an escape from the mighty Iron Fist.

“Ah! I just love this fresh air.” You exclaim, followed by more comments on how dusty & dank your cell had been, but really just watching Astarion’s shoulders tense.

You spent the rest of the day subversively tormenting Astarion. Making comments on how much you loved the weather, or loved a dress in a window. How much you loved dinner that night. How much you loved getting a good night’s rest that night.

By the time everyone had gone off to their respective tents for the evening, Astarion had apparently had enough and slunk up to yours. “I know what you’re doing. Now stop it!” He hissed.

“But I thought you’d love it.”

“Stop it!” He hissed again. If he could right now, he would blush. You were tempted to let him feed on you for a moment to get the full effect. “I mean it! How would you like it if I threw every verbal misstep in your face? I don’t keep bringing up the time you said Ibis instead of Ignis, now do I??”

It was pretty funny when that bird showed up.

“So, are you upset that you said it and I’m teasing of you, or are you upset that you didn’t mean it and I keep bringing it up?” You honestly didn’t know which answer would be worse at this point. You felt bad you had wounded his pride to the point that he came to talk to you. But you also don’t think you could take it if he told you that he didn’t love you.

Astarion just stood there for a moment, thinking, before he sighed and waved you off. “Just…knock it off ok. I’ve had quite enough today. I’m going to get some sleep and I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turned to walk away and just before he fell out of ear shot you called to him. “Hey Astarion,” he looked back over his shoulder at you, “I love that you could come and talk to me about this.”

He huffed, but you could see the corners of his mouth struggling to keep down. “Oh shut up.”

#;ask and ye shall receive (request answers) #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #tav #baldur's gate #baldurs gate imagine #baldurs gate scenarios #bg3 imagine #bg3 scenarios

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One

for @vampiregirl1797

“I just feel like we should put all our cards on the table before we go...all in. I’d like to go all in, but I feel like we need to be straight with each other about some stuff.”

“Oooookay,” Eddie says slowly, lowering himself to sit at the table. He had to shuffle the chair back a bit to fit the bump, “uhm, right.” Eddie feels kind of sick. Not the morning sickness kind, that’s long gone now, just the regular this is the End Of The Steve Thing kind of sick. Because someone basically saying we need to talk has never, not once, turned out well.

So.

Eddie maybe hasn’t come clean about anything. Eddie’s maybe been spending months scenting Steve curled up on his couch watching shitty movies. Eddie maybe just said the pups father isn’t in the picture and didn’t elaborate. Eddie maybe thought Steve had just bought that.

But Steve wants the truth, and Eddie’s going to let him have it, even though when Steve finds out what a little drug dealing slut of an Omega Eddie has been, like, historically, this might be it for straight laced Steve.

The End.

“I started in the library because I was doing community restitution.”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a sort of halt. Because wait. This was about Eddie admitting he’s a shit human being, right? Not for Steve to admit to doing anything wrong…? Wasn't it?

“Community restitution?” Eddie starts slowly, “like...you’re a criminal?”

Steve snorts but then looks at the table, fiddling with his own fingers before he looks back up again, “yeah. Kinda’.”

“And the crime was..?”

“Property damage. Rob’s boss tried to touch her up and then when she walked he screwed her out of her last pay check. It was her word against his so that didn’t go anywhere and...I may have smashed a couple of windows. A dozen. A dozen windows. While intoxicated.”

Eddie can’t even imagine that. Steve’s wearing fucking slippers and he’s at home now, so he’s swapped into the glasses that have an old people chain so he can hang them around his neck and not loose them, “I mean. Sounds...like a fair response. Yeah. Okay.”

“Sure?” Steve looks uncertain.

“I mean? If that's the worst thing you've ever done I’m pretty sure were good?”

Steve hums, it’s not a positive sound, “you know I’m,” he indicates the sides of his head. Steve’s told Eddie about the concussions. The sports scholarship. The one too many hits to the head and then the burst eardrum and the following infections that fucked his hearing up real good and pretty conclusively ended his career before it even started.

“Yeah?”

“Right, so without them in, I mean, I don’t wear them to sleep.”

And Eddie hadn’t thought about that, didn’t realize, because he hasn’t actually slept with Steve yet. Because Steve was courting him. Properly courting him. They have date night. It’s so fucking domestic Eddie nearly turns inside out over it.

Also Steve works in a library and he read somewhere that the bite of an Alpha who is not the sire of the pup can, in a few rare cases, cause the Omega’s body to fail the pregnancy and like...reject the pup in favor of having another heat so it can carry the pup of their actual mate. Or something. And because of that Steve won’t do more than kiss Eddie. Because he’s not willing to even take the risk that he might bite Eddie in the heat of the moment. He’s so fucking committed he actually offered to get Eddie off. Was very clear that he wanted absolutely nothing in return, was just happy to do hand or even mouth stuff to keep Eddie happy if that’s what he wanted.

Steve is like, just, how is he even real? And obviously Eddie said no because he's not a complete dick and saying yes felt incredibly selfish, even though he's been kicking himself every day since because when Eddie makes a decision Steve fucking respects that.

Fucking perfect loveable bastard.

Which is as adorable as it is fucking frustrating. But Eddie has also agreed that they will wait. They will wait until the pups born. They will wait for such time as Eddie can fully focus on a relationship. Whatever Steve means by that because Eddie is horny and doesn’t really care for the waiting part but-

“So I’m pretty deaf, at night.”

“Riiiight…?” Eddie has no idea where Steve’s going with this. Eddie is clearly fucking missing something along the line here.

“So when the pup cries at night, I won’t hear it. Like I definitely won’t hear it. And I get that, someone who can help more would be more appealing. Sometimes I don’t hear so good if there’s a lot of noise, so I’m worried if the pup cries and like, the TV’s on or something, I might not hear right away. And if you’re tired, I want to help at night, it’s not fair if you have to wake up all the time. I know I should have said something sooner but honestly it only really occurred to me today at work-”

Eddie’s heart is fucking melting into his guts. This is too much. Steve Harrington who smashes windows in defense of his best friend's honor. Steve Harrington who actually worries about his ability to look after another Alpha’s pup. This man. Eddie doesn’t know what to do and now his stupid face is leaking because he cries at fucking everything at the moment and Steve is looking at him absolutely horrified. Jesus Christ on a cracker.

Steve dashes around the table and dabs Eddie’s eyes with his own sleeve, while Eddie blubs incoherently about how perfect Steve is and how he’s the best Alpha ever.

So. There’s that.

Later, when Eddie’s finally managed to stop crying, but is lying splotchy faced on the couch, admits to Steve, “I’m not sure who the Alpha is. And they’re all douches so I didn’t want to hang around to find out.”

“Oh,” Steve says quietly, rubbing at Eddie’s knee, “do you want to find out now?”

“Still no. And, I get if you think it’s...wrong or...selfish...or whatever. I understand if you...you know, don’t like that I was sleeping around a bit.”

Steve seems to actually ponder that for a while, so Eddie decides to go all in and put the final nail in his own coffin, “also, I used to sell drugs. And do drugs. Some drugs. But not now. Not touched it since I found out about the pup. Haven’t been selling since I came back. Or smoking actually,” Eddie sighs, “could kill for a smoke right now though.”

Steve’s quiet for a long time, thinking. “Is the Alpha...likely to find out? Could this come back on you?”

Eddie bites his lip, taking a moment over it, “I don’t see how it ever could, no.”

Steve sighs, “okay, and clearly you weren't being safe, so did you get tested?”

Eddie swallows thickly, desperately trying not to start crying again, the embarrassment of admitting this out loud to Steve, Steve who is just so much better than him, might eat him alive, “yeah. Yeah, first uhm, appointment I had with the Omega nurse, we did all that. I’m all good. And I haven’t...been with anyone, since I got back to Hawkins.”

“So, basically, you found out about your pup and changed everything about your life, so you could do the best thing you possibly could for you baby, practically overnight?”

“I- I mean. I’ve tried?”

Steve pulls Eddie up and into his lap, so they can scent each other thoroughly, “Eddie, I think you’re wonderful.”

And Eddie shoves his face harder into Steve’s neck because he’s pretty sure his whole face is bright red with blush.

Eddie’s knee is bouncing, making the chain from his wallet jiggle, but he doesn’t seem to be able to make it stop. Steve rests his hand on Eddie’s disobedient knee; that works.

When Eddie’s name gets called, he goes, knowing that Steve is right behind him. They do the boring bit, and then Eddie is getting up on the bed and then the nurse is saying, “are you staying?” With a frown on her face.

And Steve looks down to Eddie and Eddie says, “yes?” and is then suddenly bristling at the side eye they are both getting from this nurse. Because yes, okay, Eddie doesn’t have a bite, and yes, fine, he and Steve aren’t mated but god dammit he wants Steve here for this.

He can feel the stupid nurse judging him and he fucking hates it but then Steve is squeezing his fingers reassuringly and yeah, okay, that does make it better.

Eddie doesn’t like the cold gel or the pressure, but he does love hearing his pups heartbeat. He really fucking does. It’s quick and strong and perfect.

“Would you like to know the sex?”

Eddie looks at Steve, but Steve’s just smiling and shrugging and being all perfect still. Happy to go along with whatever Eddie wants. Everything Eddie wants. Even though it’s technically not Steve’s choice anyway, even though it’s not Steve’s pup. Even though all of that, some Alphas would be presumptuous enough to pass an opinion, or worse; Steve absolutely never has.

And Eddie was always the kind of kid who shook the Christmas gifts, who couldn’t sleep, who couldn’t wait.

“Yeah, yeah please?”

“It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” and Eddie can feel the waterworks starting up again already and it doesn’t help when he looks up and Steve is looking at the screen with a look of wonder on his face. Steve looks like he’s in love. “I’d like to refer you though, for a routine investigation.”

Eddie’s nerves spark even though the nurse lady hasn’t given any indication of anything being wrong, “what for?”

She hums, moving the wand thing around, “it’s reasonably common in male Omega that their hips are too narrow to safely pass the pup. And from what I see here you may fall into that category, we should find out now and not in the delivery room.”

Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand again, “yeah. Yeah, makes sense.”

At least it means there’s no guesswork. Eddie isn’t waiting to go into labor; his narrow hips mean he has a date and time to meet his pup. He wants Steve with him, Wayne doesn’t even question it; is happy to sit in the waiting room with his newspaper and wordie or whatever that thing is he plays on his phone. There’s a curtain up, and Eddie can’t feel a fucking thing from the chest down because of the godamn terrifying needle thing they’ve put in his spine. So at least there’s that.

It feels like forever and no time at all, a lifetime of trying desperately not to panic while Steve holds his hand tight and tells him everything is okay. And god Eddie wants to snap and ask him where his sudden medical degree has come from, but he doesn’t, he bites it back, knows it’s the fear talking.

And then there’s a pup crying and she’s a bit gross and covered in gack but she’s being deposited straight onto Eddie’s bare chest and he doesn’t know what to do because suddenly he’s a parent. But Steve coos down at her and doesn’t seem at all phased by the gack when he holds her tiny hand oh so gently in his big one.

Eddie wakes up, and his calves are throbbing. He feels like he's actually run somewhere, and has the worst cramp. But then, he wriggles his toes and realizes he can feel everything again, even if he wishes he couldn't because everything fucking hurts.

Right behind that, he remembers why everything fucking hurts, and that startles him the rest of the way awake, suddenly flooded with panic because where is-?

Oh. All he has to do it look to the side, and she's right there, swaddled up in Steve's arms, Steve comfortably feeding her a bottle.

Steve must sense he's awake grinning over, "did you see how much hair she has? It's going to be just like yours." And Steve looks so absolutely delighted by that simple thing, and Eddie can't help but think that maybe this whole thing will work out okay.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steddie #ao3 writer #ficlet #mpreg #omega eddie munson #omega eddie because he's so pretty #alpha steve harrington #omegaverse

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 17 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language and depictions of medical treatment (mentions of an IV, not overly descriptive), fluff (!), angst, A LOT of pent-up emotions, SLOW BURN

words: 15.5k (help)

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 17 ► looking sideways when i say i’m okay with the past, but i’m afraid of what i might say if you ask

When you regained consciousness, it took you a few more minutes to understand what was happening.

In your hazy mind, the first clear thought you could grasp was a memory: Jungkook had gotten into a fight. Instinctively, you imagined yourself standing up and finding him. Not because your job required you to—honestly, you weren’t sure what job you even had at this point, your mind hadn’t sorted itself out yet—but because you wanted to see if he was okay.

You tried to open your eyes, but the room was spinning, and you felt a little queasy from the unexpected vertigo.

You shut your eyes again and tried to focus on your other senses—as best as you could without moving—hoping that this would answer some of the new questions forming in your mind.

You did not know where you were or how you got here, but the room was warm. The lack of proper ventilation made the air feel stuffy.

You didn’t hear any background noise, so you assumed you weren’t at a hospital. But you could hear a lot of shouting in the room. You thought you discerned three different voices, but they were all talking over each other, so it was hard to tell.

You were lying on something soft but scratchy, and a heavy duvet pressed you into the bed. It felt comforting, but you were starting to sweat.

Someone’s hand was on your wrist, their fingers cold.

Reflexively, you squeezed their hand.

“Don’t move,” someone whispered right next to you. Jungkook, you realised. “We’ve called a doctor.”

Your initial reaction was relief. He was here, so he had to be okay.

Your next reaction, however, was pure panic. You didn’t need a doctor. You just needed a minute.

“We should have taken her to a hospital,” another voice argued. “I’ll never forgive you if anything happens to her.”

That had to be Luna, you were sure of it. Your eyes remained closed, but you could envision your friend with her arms crossed over her chest, regarding the boy next to you with a scorching glare.

You didn’t like this mention of a hospital.

You squeezed Jungkook’s hand again, but even as he tried to explain to Luna that you would go on a particularly bloody rampage if he took you to a hospital—he had a point and you would have felt grateful if you hadn’t been so distressed—she still wasn’t hearing him.

You opened your mouth and felt your chapped lips tighten painfully.

“No hospital, please,” you croaked in the voice of someone who had been a successful chain smoker for over fifty years.

You heard Luna whisper-yell, “you’re unbelievable, the both of you!” and you tried to open your eyes again, but nothing had changed. It still felt a bit like gravity had taken a day off as the room and everyone around you continued to float.

You heard a faint voice that you did not recognise, and from the official tone and the immediate chill you felt inside, you deduced that it was the doctor.

“I’m going to administer a very mild sedative,” he said—to whom, you weren’t sure. Your insides felt very heavy. “And set up a drip. Make sure she doesn’t move much or the catheter will—oh, see, like that. That can’t happen.”

Your muscles spasmed involuntarily. Something pricked your arm. You didn’t mind needles, but you did not like IVs. You didn’t need to be sedated.

“I don’t think—” you tried to say when you felt something cold on your arm—the doctor’s hands, presumably, in very unpleasant, squeaky latex gloves. “I don’t think I need this.”

“Can you open your eyes for me, please?” the doctor asked.

“No,” you said with what you hoped was a shake of your head. In reality, you merely wrinkled your nose. “T-that is not something I can do right now. But in a—”

“Your body needs rest,” the doctor explained. Jungkook moved closer until he was clutching your hand with both of his. “It won’t knock you out, but it will relax you, make you a little drowsy. That will likely help you fall asleep naturally. Is that all right?”

You lacked the strength to tell him that you were already very tired—or the strength to tell him that you still had things to do, so you couldn’t just sleep.

The memory of the flooding at the venue in Manchester came back to your mind and your muscles tensed again.

Really, you were about to refuse, but there was hardly anything you disliked more than inconveniencing people. They had invited a doctor for you. He was just doing his job.

“Okay,” you said in quiet defeat.

“Your friends are in the room with you,” the doctor said. You felt a cold sensation on your arm. “They will stay with you and make sure you get plenty of rest. Even after you wake up, you must spend as much time in bed as you possibly can.”

“Don’t phrase it like that,” you heard Jungkook object. “Give us a specific time, or she’ll be out of bed as soon as she wakes up.”

Silence followed. You tried to imagine what was happening. Jungkook must have looked very eager—in his exaggerated manner, which resembled desperation rather than hope. Luna probably nodded in agreement. The doctor, if he was kind enough, smiled at them patiently.

“Two days,” he finally stated. “Today and tomorrow, at the very least. If she has to walk, someone should accompany her. But don’t keep her on her feet for too long. I’ve seen the crowd of people outside this room—don’t tire her out. There should only be one or two people in the room with her, all right? Proper nutrition, sufficient sleep, and a—”

You felt yourself drifting off, and the doctor’s words faded and merged together until you were no longer sure whether you were imagining what a doctor would say in this situation, or if he was actually speaking.

When you opened your eyes again, Luna and Maggie were seated in the armchairs next to your bed. The room had stabilised, allowing you to take in your surroundings before Luna glanced up from her phone and Maggie pulled out her earpods, noticing that you were awake.

The space around you appeared to be a hotel room. Next to the bed stood a metal bar with bags of faint yellow liquid on it. A catheter was attached to your arm and an intravenous line led to it from the drip. You shivered at the sight of it.

“Oh!” Luna’s gasp drew your attention back to her. She dropped her phone on her seat and straightened up. “How are you feeling?”

Right away, Maggie jumped up and removed her earpods.

“Confused,” you spoke and immediately tried to clear your prickly throat.

Maggie leapt forward and grabbed an empty glass from the bedside table. She poured some water from one of the three bottles on the floor and handed it to you.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had water. It tasted heavenly.

“You’re in a hotel room,” Luna explained as you drank. Maggie sat down on the armrest of her friend’s chair. “In Manchester.”

The mention of the city made you glare at her, and both girls breathed a sigh of relief. At least you knew where you were in a broader sense.

“It’s 7 PM,” Luna said after checking her phone. “The band has a day off tomorrow because the concert’s been postponed—”

“Because of the flooding,” you finished, leaning forward to put the glass back on the table. “I remember, Luna. Thanks. What, um—how come I’m here?”

Luna looked at Maggie for a moment, wordlessly asking her to take over the story.

“Well, you fainted,” Maggie started. She wasn’t usually a woman of many words, and this time was no different, which you found comforting. If Maggie didn’t think it was necessary to talk for hours, then you must not have been doing that bad. “Jungkook found you.”

“Yeah,” Luna had to interject with more details—she was still irked about his decision to book a hotel room instead of a hospital room. “And then he spent half an hour describing your symptoms. It took the doctor all of one second to diagnose you with burnout and put you on a vitamin drip. He told us to keep you on bed rest and watch for any more nosebleeds or fainting spells. If they continue, you’ll need to go into urgent care.”

You wanted to ask questions—where did they find this doctor? Where was this hotel? What was happening at the venue?—but the girls were on a roll.

“Meanwhile, I wasn’t even allowed in the room,” Maggie said, returning to her chair and sitting down properly. She was upset that she had missed what Luna had just summarised for you. “The doctor told us that only one person could stay, but neither Luna, nor Jungkook agreed to leave. So, no one else could come in until you were feeling better.”

“Jungkook was the one who decided on the hotel room, by the way,” Luna remarked, seemingly glad to finally express her frustrations. “I argued. I think you should at least have a blood test done. What if you’re anaemic? But—”

“I’m not anaemic,” you finally interrupted as you settled back on the bed. The mattress quickly adjusted to the shape of your body. Closing your eyes, you had to admit that the bed was really quite comfortable. Perhaps you could stay here for a few more hours. “This has happened to me before. I’ll be fine.”

Luna sighed. Her knowledge of the last time this had happened to you came from Jungkook’s haphazard stream of thought as he tried to explain to the doctor that the two of you had been in this exact situation before—you, unconscious, and he, on the verge of losing his mind.

Honestly, for a moment, Luna thought the doctor had considered sedating Jungkook instead of you.

“I knew you were going to say that,” she muttered after a minute. “Jungkook seemed to believe you’d shoot us all dead if we took you to a hospital.”

Gratitude bubbled up in your chest, but when you saw your friend’s solemn features, you tried to soften your response.

“I wouldn’t have shot you,” you said. “I would have smothered you all with pillows."

Maggie scoffed, and Luna rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips still turned up.

“Nice to see you haven’t gained a sense of humour while you were out,” Maggie teased.

“Ha,” you responded dryly—but you were smiling, too.

Luna crossed her legs on the armchair to get more comfortable. She glanced at Maggie anxiously. The girls weren’t sure if they were tiring you out with their conversation, but you were looking up at the ceiling, not indicating that you were tired in any way, so they decided to continue.

“So, want to tell us how this happened, then?” Luna asked.

You turned your head to her. “I was hoping you’d tell me. I can’t exactly remember.”

“You fainted,” Maggie reminded you. Luna leaned over and gave her a pat on the arm, thanking her for this valuable reminder.

You smiled gently. “You mentioned that. Where’d the doctor come from?”

“Oh, Jungkook found one,” Maggie said. “There’s a clinic across the street from the venue. And this hotel is right next door.”

“Oh.”

A minute passed as you attempted to piece it all together.

You could not remember any of this, but the news that Jungkook had taken care of most things was not calming. He must have really been going out of his mind.

You were curious about where he was, but you didn’t want to ask. Your paranoid mind made you think that any question about Jungkook that was not related to Rated Riot was unnecessary and would, therefore, be misunderstood. Your friends already seemed like they were resisting a few additional comments for the sake of your health.

“So,” Luna started after a quiet minute, “how come you fainted?"

You exhaled and tried to scratch your eyebrow, but the catheter tugged painfully at your skin, and you winced instead.

You dropped your hand back down. “I-I... I guess I overestimated myself.”

Luna pushed the IV stand closer to your bed so you could have more freedom with your limbs. You nodded gratefully.

“You’re going to have to slow down,” Luna said. “It’s no longer negotiable, I’m afraid. If you don’t listen to us, we will take you to a hospital.”

It was the plural pronoun that bothered you the most, but you forced yourself to swallow your discomfort at disrupting the daily routines of your friends.

“I’ll be alright soon,” you said. “And I promise this won’t happen again.”

“It had better not,” Maggie chimed in. “And what’s with this hatred of hospitals? You don’t like that they’re full of people who want to help you feel better?”

“I don’t hate them,” you said, which wasn’t entirely true. Your experiences in hospitals included your mum crying, and you’d rather not relive that—not so soon after your brother broke his leg. “I just don’t have time for them. I’m okay.”

Luna gave you a stern look. Even Maggie, who was usually quite calm when you said you were fine, was glowering a little.

“Fine,” you conceded. “I’ll endure this drip and then I'll be okay. Thank you for being here.”

Luna made a deliberate scene of fixing the bags on the metal stand—clearly intending to emphasise the seriousness of your condition—and then lowered herself back into her armchair.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

Smiling at both of your girls—to distract them from further discussing your health—you said, “I love you.”

“We love you, too,” Maggie said. “And, babe, just so you know, it’s not just us. There was—everyone was here. The concierge nearly fainted when he saw us all in the hallway.”

Your smile quickly fell. “What do you mean, everyone?”

“We took care of it, don’t worry,” Luna interjected, sensing your growing panic. “Maggie and I talked to Seokjin, Jimin, and Namjoon, who then spoke to the rest of the staff and escorted them out. And Jungkook took care of his band.”

The panic lingered. Your job was solving crises, not causing them. You did not like this.

“He took care of them?” you repeated, swallowing.

“Well, they were very worried,” Luna explained, glancing at Maggie for help. Maggie only nodded, indicating her agreement. “And, uh, they were very loud, too. He told them to go and texted them updates every ten minutes.”

“God.” You closed your eyes and carefully tried to prop yourself up into a half-sitting position. “What updates? I was asleep.”

“That’s what he’s been texting them,” Luna explained. “Every ten minutes, on the dot. And then Taehyung texted me, asking why I kicked his best friend out of your room—which is ridiculous because I did not kick him out. But you’re my best friend, so technically, I would have had the right to kick him out if you were uncomfortable.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose with your hand and shook your head, an involuntary smile creeping onto your face at your friend’s protectiveness. “I’m comfortable. Thank you.”

“Are you going to see him?” Maggie asked.

You looked up at her. “Jungkook?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “He’s right behind the door, you know. Glued to the wall in the hallway.”

Your gaze slid down her dark blue jacket and focused on the mirror on the wall behind her. “Oh.”

“The doctor said he would need to go to the hospital, too, by the way,” Luna said, earning a surprised look from you. “He said the bandages around his head looked very threatening.”

You pressed your lips together. You’d expected that, but you still felt a fleeting twinge of disappointment—you’d covered his wounds to the best of your ability. And the bandages were honestly not the worst part of this.

“The doctor hasn’t even seen what’s underneath,” you said.

“He has now, actually,” Maggie replied. “He went to the emergency room about an hour ago to have them changed.”

You were too taken aback to properly understand her. “Jungkook did?”

“Yeah,” Luna said, pulling her phone out. Your mind tuned out her next few sentences as you struggled to come to terms with the fact that Jungkook had gone to the emergency room on his own accord. “—and he called us from the hospital. Apparently, he pestered the nurses with questions about what else we could do to help you feel better. They told him to leave, but he wanted to hear from us—in case we thought you needed anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if he brought a heart monitor here, just in case.”

Maggie snickered—but caught the serious looks on the faces around her and covered it up with a fractured cough—while you groaned and rubbed your eyes. You wouldn’t have been surprised, either.

You exhaled. “Yeah—I-I’ll see him. If that’s okay with you?”

Both girls nodded and got up from their seats. Before they went, however, they convinced you to accept their help to complete the difficult task—as you pointed out while rolling your eyes—of walking ten steps to the bathroom, and then ten steps back to your bed. Clearly, they were taking the doctor’s orders very seriously.

“We’ll be right outside,” Luna said once you settled back in bed. “Call or text—”

“No,” you protested. “You can’t—you don’t need to stay here. You’ve already done so much.”

“We were just sitting in your room with you,” Maggie said. “It’s hardly anything. Don’t worry about us.”

“It’s not hardly anything,” you disagreed. “At least get something to eat.”

The two girls looked at each other. Maggie shrugged and then looked back at you, still doubtful. You nodded with more conviction.

“We’ll pick up some food for everyone and come back,” Luna finally decided. “Okay?”

You nodded again. “Okay. Thank you.”

As soon as the girls opened the door to your hotel room, you heard shuffling outside—as if someone had been leaning right up against the door and scrambled away before it opened.

“You may come in,” Luna told Jungkook with excessive dramatics as she and Maggie turned to wave at you again.

You gave them another nod and watched as Jungkook tentatively walked inside. He turned to close the door behind him and lingered, for an awkward moment, at the entrance.

His bandages were fresh and none of the scantily wrapped bruises were visible any longer. Perhaps they would heal in time for the concert.

Before you could express your hopes out loud, however, Jungkook took a shaky breath and approached you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I would have done if—”

“W-why are you sorry?” you cut him off, disturbed by the absolute devastation in his voice.

He was right next to your bed now, barely able to inhale. “It’s—you—you fainted—and—it was because—I shouldn’t—”

It hit you, suddenly, why he was hyperventilating so much. And the shock of this realisation was so great that you could not react immediately, and he proceeded to stutter for another few moments.

“This—it has nothing—this isn’t about you,” you finally said, almost as coherent as he was.

Still, he persisted, “but I—you—I was—I should have—”

“I didn’t faint because of you, Jungkook,” you said more firmly. There were several reasons why he should have felt guilty, of course, but this was definitely not one of them.

He finally stopped speaking, although the rapid process of inhaling and exhaling—which caused his shoulders to hunch and straighten from the intensity of the motions—continued for another minute.

Then he gave you a long, uncertain look. You maintained eye contact and watched as his breathing gradually slowed. You had never seen him panic so much and so suddenly—he had seemed almost perfectly fine when he came in, but it took him all of two seconds to fall apart.

Slowly, he regained control of his breathing and looked you over once more.

“Okay,” he said, shifting his weight to his other leg. “I-I don’t know if that—if it makes me feel better, but—”

“Thank you,” you said.

Lost in his own thoughts, he craned his neck towards you. “Hm?”

“Luna and Maggie told me you’re the one who found me.”

Jungkook looked briefly embarrassed.

“I explicitly asked them not to tell,” he said.

You smiled. “I’m sure this was Force majeure, so don’t blame them. And they’re my best friends anyway.”

“Clearly.” He brought his hands down his face before admitting, “I just—I thought you wouldn’t want to see me.”

A part of you thought he was right to assume that. You shouldn’t want to see him.

But another part of you forced you to lower your gaze and twiddle your thumbs nervously as you linked your hands on your stomach.

“No, uh, see,” you began with a nervous chuckle. “That’s, uh—that’s almost the worst part of this whole thing. My plan, really, was to avoid you.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows, then politely lowered them. He placed his hand on the back of the armchair and said, profoundly, “very mature.”

“You don’t get to judge,” you warned.

The corner of his lip quirked. “Just making an observation.”

“So, my plan was to avoid you,” you continued. “But we both know how that ended. And then I woke up here, sort of feeling like I was floating in a space station somewhere near Saturn, and you know what my first thought was?”

Jungkook thought he was floating in a space station somewhere near Saturn.

“Wh—um, what?” he asked.

“My first thought was if you were okay.”

You looked at him as you said that, and he thought he saw the rest of his life flash before his eyes—a life that, just a few days ago, he’d deemed meaningless.

Without any proper distractions, it was just him and his thoughts, and they were never good company. They hated him for losing you.

But then you fainted and now that you’ve regained consciousness, your first thought was if he was okay.

He didn’t trust his legs very much anymore.

“Can I sit?” he asked, a little breathless again.

You took a second to reply, and he interpreted it as a sign of hesitation. “You can.”

Suspicious, he asked, “will you try to leave if I sit?”

You gave him a questioning look and nudged your hand, causing the IV bags to wobble. “Does it look like I can move around with this?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “You might still try.”

You snorted and shook your head. “Just sit down, Jungkook.”

He sat down.

The two of you were a peculiar sight like this. If this were a role-playing video game, there would have been exclamation marks over your heads—and if you had been approached, the list of conversation starters the player could choose would have been, simply, endless.

There was so much you wanted to say and ask each other, but the strength of your resistance was absurdly impressive.

One thought, however, overwhelmed everything, and it was very simple: how little everything else mattered compared to your health.

Jungkook took a deep breath and looked at you, taking in your tired, but ceaselessly dreamlike features.

Slowly, he found himself calming down. As long as you were here, as long as you were okay, things would work out one way or another.

“I, um—your mum called, by the way,” Jungkook said. “I have your phone. It fell out of your jacket when I—when I found you.”

Right away, you felt a surge of panic. You and your mum had a deal. She knew you were busy, so she would text sometimes, but never call. Unless something had happened.

“My—she called me?” you repeated with so much concern that Jungkook noticed the drip stand shake a little from the force of your distress. “Did you answer?”

He felt his own hands return to their almost natural trembling. “Uh, well, as it happened—I did.”

“Why did she call? What happened?”

“Well, nothing,” he said. “She said she hadn’t heard from you in a while, and she was worried.”

Mother’s intuition, she had called it when she spoke to you. When you returned to your dorm after your hospital stay six years ago, she had called you because “for some reason” she couldn’t sleep for two nights in a row. She didn’t know you were ill, of course, but it touched you, this maternal feeling that transcended all logic.

It could have been a coincidence, you supposed. Lots of things were.

“What did you say?” you asked.

“I said you had a lot of things to take care of,” Jungkook replied. “But you’d call her when you had a free moment.”

You watched him as he spoke and noticed his eyes widen momentarily, clearly taken aback by what he’d just seen in your expression. You realised you hadn’t expected him to hide this from your mum, and your surprise must have shown.

Blinking, you turned away and gripped the edge of your duvet.

“Thank you,” you said.

“I also told her you’re very stressed,” he added quieter.

“Oh—well, that—you could have kept that to yourself,” you said, less enthusiastic about his thoughtfulness. “She’s going to freak out about it.”

“Let her,” he countered. “You’re her child. She’s worried about you. You have to let people worry about you when there’s a reason to.”

You had a different opinion, of course. But instead of arguing, you chose to find out what conclusions your mum had drawn from this brief exchange. She hadn’t heard from Jungkook directly in years, even though she knew you were working together.

“What did she—was she surprised to hear from you?” you asked.

Your question made Jungkook appear as if he was trying very hard to tap dance while sitting down. He bounced his legs, tapped his feet, and occasionally scratched something under his chin, above his nose, or on the back of his neck.

“Uh, well, we’re, um, you know,” he said. You were almost ready to assume that he was hiding something else. “You and me—w-we’re working together. She wasn’t that surprised.”

“Right, but I mean—”

“I told her not to worry too much, and that you’d love to hear from her,” he finished, skilfully diverting from the topic and speaking even louder so you wouldn’t have a chance to interject with another question. “She said she’d text you, and you should call her when you have a minute. Not right now, though. You’re resting now.”

Again, you tried, “I’m just—”

“She put Kai on the phone, too,” he added. “So, I talked to him for a second. He called you an idiot.”

That took a very unusual turn, you thought in surprise. Your mum hadn’t spoken to Jungkook in years, and now she wanted to put your brother on the phone, too—you were simply confused.

“He—why’d he say that?” you asked, presently more unnerved by the name-calling than your mother’s unexpected choices.

“For forgetting to call your mum, he said. And for working too much,” Jungkook replied. “Which is precisely what I warned you about in Amsterdam, so I honestly can’t believe this happened to you again. We asked you to take it easy, so at least listen to us now, and—”

It was hard to breathe in this still room, with the force of everyone’s concern weighing you down.

Slowly, you kicked one leg out from under the duvet. “I did take it easy.”

“Right,” he said, closing his eyes and mumbling, “you never fucking take it easy.”

You heaved yourself up to your feet, holding onto the IV stand for support. “I was—”

Jungkook looked up and jumped to his feet as soon as he realised what you were doing. “Where are you going? Sit down.”

“I’m fine. I’m just—”

He blocked your way, quickly ensuring that you did not have enough space to take another step.

“See, I told you you’d do this,” he groaned, his chest pressed against yours. “Just sit down.”

You tried not to stagger backwards—which was his intention, of course—and still stood your ground. “I just want to open the window, I’m—”

“Sit down.”

Huffing in angry resignation, you sat back down.

“Okay,” he said, stepping back from the bed to give you more space. “Now lie down.”

You rolled your eyes but settled back into a horizontal position, glaring at him all the while.

“Should I roll over, too?” you bit. “Give you a paw?”

“Not unless you want to.”

You bared your teeth. “Funny.”

“Just lie down, please,” he reiterated. “And just—just rest, okay? For a little while, at least. I’ll open the window.” He saw you open your mouth and added hurriedly, “I know you can do it yourself. But let me.”

Sighing, you surrendered to the warm confines of the duvet. “Okay. Thanks.”

He crossed the room and struggled with the curtains for a moment. He could tell you were watching him, and he felt irrationally nervous—he thought that if he did something wrong, you would try to get up again. Finally, he grabbed the handle of the window, twisted it and pulled. A moment or two later, a welcome breeze finally filled the stuffy room.

Relieved to be able to breathe something other than your discomfort, you watched Jungkook return to his armchair.

“You didn’t tell me if you’re okay,” you reminded him. “How’s your eye?”

He looked confused as he lifted his hand—as if to verify if the eye in question was still there—then paused and dropped it again.

“It’s working,” he said, sitting back down next to your bed.

“And the pain?”

He shrugged. “Bearable.”

“Good,” you said, slipping your hands under the covers and resting them on your stomach. “I’m glad you took out your eyebrow piercing before the whole thing with Sid, by the way. Otherwise, we might have had even more problems.”

Jungkook didn’t want that to be your shared problem—he was determined to carry out his plan, which he boldly referred to as “Getting My Shit Together”—but at the same time, he was glad that he didn’t cause you any additional distress. Honestly, he couldn’t have cared less about his piercings right now.

“I—yeah.” He rubbed his eyebrow absentmindedly. “I hadn’t planned it like that, but it worked out, I guess.”

“Did you get any rest?” you asked then.

The question felt misplaced, and his stomach sank at the sheer wrongness of it. You were always worried about others. And he always gave you reasons to worry.

Really, while he was happy—alright, ecstatic—that you thought of him, he should have been the one asking you this.

“How, uh—how do you mean?” he returned.

“After the flight,” you said.

He looked down at the beige carpet under his boots and shook his head. He couldn’t have slept even if he wanted to—not until he was sure you weren’t on your feet, insisting you were okay.

“I don’t need rest,” he said.

But as you looked at him, it was clear that rest was exactly what he needed. Beneath the imposing bandages, his eyes were bloodshot, and his skin was pale and waxy. He was still beautiful—Maggie would have made a joke about it—but in a way that made your heart ache if you looked at him too long.

“You should go,” you said. “Get some sleep.”

Jungkook gave you a look as if you had just confessed that you enjoyed beheading people in your spare time: incredulous and slightly offended.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said.

This was going to turn into a childish game, you knew it. But you tapped your thumbs together and still tried.

“What if I want to be alone?” you asked.

“Then I’ll call Luna and Maggie.”

Your arched eyebrows challenged his solution.

“When I said alone,” you clarified, “I didn’t mean not with you.”

For just a split second, he looked almost relieved to hear this. Then he bit his lip and brought a hand over his knee.

“If my presence is not the problem,” he said, “then I’m staying.”

“The problem,” you argued, “is that you’re going to end up in this bed, connected to an IV, if you don’t sleep.”

“Let’s cut to the chase,” he offered. “I’m not leaving you alone. In fact, I’m staying. Unless you explicitly tell me you can’t stand to look at me anymore.”

He gave you an opening to tease, and you enjoyed building up to it as you looked down and ran your tongue over your lips.

“And, uh, you’d leave then?” you asked—taunted, really.

“Begrudgingly,” he replied, as discontented as you were amused.

You nodded. “Alright.”

He raised his eyebrows, slightly dispirited. “You’re going to tell me to go?”

“No,” you said. “Stay.”

So he stayed.

And this moment in the hotel room, as the vitamin drip dribbled quietly into the intravenous tube, did not just feel bizarre. It felt a little like a parallel universe—like you’d lost consciousness in a world where you were very angry and very stressed, and had woken up in a world where only subtle echoes of all the fervent emotions you’d once felt existed.

In this world, all that you were feeling was eclipsed by what really mattered: the people who were in this room with you and had been waiting outside of it.

But you felt another particularly prominent sentiment, which was heightened even more by Jungkook’s relentless focus on you. You did not want to name it, however. To identify it was to give it power over you, and you liked to believe that you had your heartbeat under control right now.

“It’s like—this is just like back then again,” Jungkook said suddenly. “Isn’t it?”

You exhaled, returning to the jagged, uncertain moment.

“Yeah...” you said, stretching the vowels in a frantic attempt to fill the space that would soon turn into an awkward silence. “Thank you for not taking me to a hospital this time. This really isn’t so bad.”

“It is bad,” he disagreed right away. “But I didn’t want you to have another reason to feel stressed. I thought a hotel room would relax you more than a hospital room.”

“It would,” you said. “Thanks.”

He hung his head. “Yeah.”

Not the awkward silence, not the awkward silence, not the—

“Well,” you inhaled, “at least you won’t have to study for any finals this time, right?”

You expected him to smile back at the gentle jab about him failing his exam the last time you were in the hospital. But when Jungkook looked up, he looked crestfallen somehow—almost like he was disappointed that he did not have to study for finals this time.

“Yeah, um, actually—I-I didn’t fail my exam because I didn’t study for it,” he said in a slow, contemplative tone. He wasn’t sure if he could ever admit this to you, but he figured he didn’t have much left to lose. He’d already told you so much. He might as well tell you all the rest. “I failed because your friend texted me about twenty minutes before my final, saying that you left your exam looking very disoriented. She asked if I could check on you.”

Horror descended on your face as you realised what he meant.

“You went to look for me,” you surmised painfully, “and didn’t show up to take your final.”

He nodded and you shook your head with a newfound ferocity.

“Jungkook,” you said, remembering how you reacted when he first told you he had failed—how you immediately blamed his recklessness and his friends. How you brought up all of his mistakes and thought this was another one of them.

“You passed out,” he said. “I don’t regret it.”

“I yelled at you so much!” you continued, lost in your own guilt. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

“You helped me study, too,” he defended, feeling almost uncomfortable. He’d never felt your reaction was inappropriate, even under the circumstances. He had failed the exam, after all—like he’d failed several others before.

You shook your head again. “Yeah, but—”

“It’s fine,” he cut you off.

“It’s not fine!” you refuted immediately. “It was my fault you failed.”

“It wasn’t your—”

“I thought it was your friends again,” you said. “I thought they distracted you, and you didn’t study.”

There it was—this vast precipice between what you thought had happened and what had actually happened. Now that years have passed, Jungkook didn’t even know where to start.

The fact was this: you believed that every time he failed you, it was his friends’ fault—and that belief comforted him. It was so appropriate, so fitting.

And sometimes it was true, but even when it wasn’t—when it was just him, not being good enough—your assumption that it was Sid’s fault didn’t paint Jungkook as desperate; merely reckless. Not hopeless, only a little dumb. He preferred it this way.

But now he took a deep breath.

“My friends did distract me from a lot of things,” he said. “But the truth is, sometimes… I tried too hard, and I didn’t want you to know about it. I couldn’t stand the thought of trying to do something for you and then—just completely fucking everything up and letting you down. Sometimes blaming my friends was a convenient excuse.”

You frowned. “What—what are you talking about?”

“Well,” he wiped his palms on his black cargo pants and stretched out his legs, “remember when we were planning to go on holiday together and I fucked up?”

Your frown deepened.

“Hawaii?” you asked. “When you bought the tickets home for the same day we were flying there?”

“Uh…” He hadn’t realised he’d messed up several times. “No. Different holiday. When I missed the train we were supposed to take to the beach? For our summer break?”

“Oh.” You nodded. “I remember. But I saw Sid’s Instagram videos with you, drinking at his garage. I know you were—”

“Those were old videos. And he posted them at a very bad time, which, honestly,” he chuckled sadly, “it’s nothing new for Sid. He seized every opportunity to make me miserable, and I was—I relied on that sometimes. I think he wanted to start an argument between us on the train, that’s why he posted those videos. The truth is, though, I didn’t even see him that day. I missed the train because I wanted to rent out a car and surprise you.”

The quiet confusion on your face prompted him to keep going.

“I didn’t want just any car,” he explained. “I wanted the same Cadillac convertible I’d rented out for our first anniversary.”

You had fond memories of the convertible. Not of the actual drive, which was, honestly, quite painful—there were bugs and unruly strands of your hair everywhere—but of the laughter you’d shared inside.

“It was summer, finally warm enough outside,” Jungkook recalled. “I thought it would be a nice way to relax after studying. I even, uh—I made decorations and everything. Glittery, silver letters that said, ‘just passed our finals’. It’s a play on ‘just married’, you know? It’s a—a joke.”

Eager to understand where this was going, you remained frozen on the bed, and Jungkook felt himself waver slightly. He was glad you weren’t laughing—he dreaded you’d laugh or find any of this as embarrassing as he did—but he slid his hands under his thighs anyway, as if to warm them.

“The thing is, though,” he continued. “I didn’t take my passport with me. Because you don’t need a passport when you’re taking the fucking train, but you can’t rent a car without one, and those fucking assholes at the rental shop—anyway. I went back to my dorm to pick it up, and by the time I got back, the rental shop had closed for lunch. And I missed the train.”

Your heartbeat was steady—fast, absolutely speeding, but steady nonetheless. It hadn’t slowed since he started speaking.

Your expression, however, was almost painfully concentrated. When he looked at you, it seemed as if you were listening to a séance where a spirit was recounting their death.

You cleared your throat and tried to speak. “I thought—”

“You thought I forgot about our trip and went out with Sid,” Jungkook finished for you.

You didn’t have to confirm it, he knew. The hope that this was what you would assume was his safety blanket—this way, he didn’t have to face the fact that he could never do anything right for you, not even when he tried so hard to.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked.

You weren’t angry at him for this because he’d made it to the beach later that night, after all. He had taken the last train and barged into your cabin just after midnight. You had nearly knocked him out with a bedside lamp, assuming it was an intruder.

But you didn’t understand the point of allowing you to believe—for years—that it was Sid’s fault. Why didn’t he defend himself?

“Because—did you not hear me describe the letters I’d cut out from glittery paper?” Jungkook asked, his voice high-pitched in irritation at himself. “It’s embarrassing. I should have just met you at the train station like I said I would.”

“Well, why didn’t you?” you questioned. “Why put all this effort?”

“Because I love you,” he replied. You tugged on the IV tube again as you squirmed and unconsciously flexed your arm. “And because I saw your friends get picked up by their boyfriends in their cars. I saw those boyfriends bring them massive bouquets of roses. I saw all the grand fucking gestures that I could never do for you, because I didn’t have enough—I wasn’t—it was mortifying. I thought that you deserved the world, and all I could give you was… some fucking wildflowers before our dates.”

The corners of your lips twitched as you tried to speak, “it’s—I loved your wildflowers, though. And I never cared about anything else.”

“I know,” he said. “But I did.”

You looked down at the white duvet. “You and your gestures.”

Jungkook hummed, but did not add anything else. He was thinking—and regretting his silences. You were thinking, too—and wondering if this was the only time he allowed you to assume that his friends were at fault when they weren’t.

The room around you stilled, adapting to the atmosphere of the conversation. Even your drip quieted.

But then someone knocked on the door of the hotel room, and you and Jungkook almost lit up with relief.

“It’s us!” Luna’s voice called out just as Jungkook stood up to check who it was.

Your friends had returned with paper boxes of Thai food—enough to feed at least five people, from what you could see from your bed—and waved at you from the doorway.

A conversation followed—one that you couldn’t quite hear, except for irrelevant snippets, such as “are you sure?” and “well, okay”—and then Jungkook stepped away from the door, allowing the two girls to address you.

“Apparently, we’ll be heading back to the bus for a quick nap,” Luna said. Jungkook gave her a disapproving look that she promptly ignored. “Is that okay with you? Jungkook will stay.”

Your reflexive response was, of course, to try to dismiss their responsibility. “He doesn’t—neither of you have to stay—”

“Someone is staying,” Jungkook stated, his voice strict, final. “And I would like to be the one to do that.”

You weren’t protesting against him specifically, but as you prepared to reply, you realised it might seem that way. Your hesitant silence was a chance for Jungkook to nod at the two girls again. They nodded back, but then glanced back at you.

“Our phones are on,” Maggie said, lifting her device up for you to see. “So, you can still call or text us at any point, and we’ll rush over here right away.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “That certainly does not make it sound like I’m about to torture her.”

You bit back a smile on your bed while Luna said simply, “just a precaution.”

“I get it,” he said. “And I’ll personally call you if I say or do anything that’s over the line.”

Neither Luna, nor Maggie had a response to that, and you looked up to meet three pairs of expectant eyes.

“I—it’s okay,” you said to the girls. “You—yes, get some rest. We’ll be fine here. Thank you.”

“Okay. We’ll be back!” Luna promised, shooting a warning look at Jungkook, while Maggie waved her phone and called out at you, “text us!”

You wanted to give them a small wave, but the thick duvet and the persistent catheter digging into your arm made it difficult to pull your hands out, so all you managed to do was just shuffle around under the covers and nod at them.

The girls left the take-out boxes inside, waved at you again, and walked away.

Jungkook closed the door and slowly returned to his seat, his shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets, and steps unsteady. He looked lost and frightened.

He didn’t want you to misunderstand his intentions. He didn’t want to stay here just to have you to himself, to apologise and to beg for your forgiveness. He wanted to stay because he couldn’t breathe when he didn’t know if you were okay.

As his hesitation hung in the air, memories of your previous hospital stay returned to you again, and you closed your eyes to shake them off.

“You should eat something,” you said.

Jungkook refused.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” you prodded.

Again, he mumbled and hummed under his breath, evading the question and sitting very still—as if he was expecting something. As if something was coming.

And you realised that something was coming. But you had to speak to bring that something here.

“So, then—w-was there anything else?” you finally asked.

Jungkook knew you were referring to the moment he’d just revealed, this deliberate misunderstanding. It was all he could think about. This was the something.

“There was,” he said with a sigh. “But I don’t—”

“Tell me about it.”

He had a lump in his throat that he couldn’t swallow—but not due to his lack of trying—and he suddenly felt like he was standing in front of a jury of his peers.

He didn’t want you to keep thinking that he hadn’t made an effort for you when he had, only it never turned out well. But he was also nervous about you learning how hard—and how impossibly much—he tried. He thought it would only highlight his shortcomings—and there were many of them.

He’d convinced himself that if you didn’t know about them, then he wasn’t letting you down. It was challenging to break out of this conviction now.

“Well—t-that Valentine’s Day,” he stammered. “Our second one—do you remember?”

You remembered right away. Despite your distaste for the commercialisation of the holiday, it still stung that Jungkook had avoided you the whole day. And for several days after that, too—although you’d assumed that to be deliberate. He’d missed Valentine’s Day and didn’t want to see you out of guilt.

“Sure,” you said.

“Well, that wasn’t Sid’s fault, either,” he said. “I know you thought we went on a drinking binge that weekend because Sid happened to conveniently go off the grid right at that time. He had a habit of—”

“But you weren’t with him?” you interjected, impatient.

“No. He was—it was nearly a Weekend at Bernie’s situation. There was some event happening at Jude’s summer house that weekend,” Jungkook said, and you tried to control yourself before you made mocking comments about the idea that people had enough money to own seasonal houses. “And Jude got so high that Sid and some of Jude’s cousins had to pretend he was just not feeling his best whenever his parents asked about him. They mimicked his voice through the door and everything.”

“So, where were you then?”

“I was—well, I—I spent that whole day—ah, no,” he stopped abruptly and brought his palms over his face, lacing his fingers over his mouth as he changed his mind. He couldn’t do this. It was awful. He was such a mess. “You know what? Maybe it’s better if you keep thinking I was at that summer house with them.”

“No,” you opposed in frustration, lunging forward to sit up. You did not listen to him drone on about Sid and Jude just to have him change his mind. “Now you have to tell me.”

Jungkook raised his head when you moved—his concern for you overwhelmed his chagrin.

“Okay, okay, don’t—lie down,” he asked, gesturing at the pillow.

You complied to get him to keep going. He took a breath.

“Just so you know,” he cautioned, “this might finally ruin my bad boy reputation.”

“You never had one.”

He clicked his tongue against his lower teeth. “Okay, ouch.”

You grinned. “Tell me. What really happened?”

He hesitated for another second, bouncing his knee up and down, up and down, and then stilling completely.

“Well, for one thing,” he began finally, “I was going to make dinner. That didn’t go well, because the communal kitchens were—well, you know. But that’s fine, I didn’t worry too much because there’s always take-out.”

You nodded. The communal kitchens in both of your dormitories were typically crowded with people or they smelled so terrible from a failed cooking experiment that it was simply wiser not to set foot in there.

“There was a great pizza place literally two blocks from your dorm,” you pointed out.

“Yeah, exactly.” He nodded in agreement. “But, um, we’d already gone out for a fancy dinner on Valentine’s Day the year before, so I wanted this year to be more… special. I don’t know. Or different, at least. So, I thought I’d cook and make you a slideshow. And—okay, you’ll have to stop smiling if you want me to continue.”

You hadn’t realised you were smiling. You pursed your lips and pulled them to each side to compose yourself.

“Sorry,” you said. “Continue.”

“Right,” he said. “So I made a PowerPoint. Added all of our pictures that I could find in my camera roll, wrote some funny captions. There were going to be at least 200 slides, I’m pretty sure you would have fallen asleep in the middle. I even recorded an acoustic Sleep Token cover to use as background music.”

You told yourself you’d stay quiet, but your disbelief was uncontrollable. “You didn’t!”

“I did,” he said, smiling, but trying not to, for the sake of the story. “It’s gone, though. I erased all traces of that night.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Well, I, uh—I didn’t want just to play you the slides on my laptop,” he said, scratching nervously at his chest over his dark grey hoodie. “I wanted something more.”

You nodded. “Of course.”

He looked away instead of acknowledging your comment.

“Then I remembered something I saw on Instagram that could have been cool. It was one of those aesthetic accounts. They had a picture of this dark, cosy room with a projector screening a film right on this white wall,” he said. “So, I thought, well, shit! I have a white wall behind my wardrobe. And the science lab downstairs has a projector.”

You didn’t like this as you stiffened on the bed, mumbling a dreading, “dear God.”

“Yeah.” He paused to lick his lips. “But it’s probably not what you think. I got the fucking projector.”

He said that with so much grandeur that you couldn’t help but raise your eyebrows—questioning if this was really something to be proud of.

He recapped the story anyway, “I took my roommate’s wrench, and it really didn’t take more than fifteen minutes to open the lab door, unscrew the projector, and bring it back up to my room.”

You shut your eyes and scrunched your nose at the step-by-step description. You wondered if there was a statute of limitations here, and if you would have been considered an accomplice now that you knew about this.

“They have security cameras, though,” you said, glancing at him again. “Don’t they?”

“They do,” Jungkook confirmed. He had a sardonic smile on his face. “Why do you think I was suspended for a month after Valentine’s Day?”

You lost him there. “Wait—they knew you stole the projector?”

“Borrowed,” he corrected. “I returned it two days later. But, yeah, uh—Minjun actually pulled some strings here. His dad went to university with the dean, so he vouched for me. Told him it was all a misunderstanding, and that it would never happen again.”

You looked away, frantically sifting through memories of the month after that particular Valentine’s Day. You remembered not seeing Jungkook for a few days after it, but you saw him fairly regularly later on. He would hang out in your dorm while you had classes, claiming not to have anything better to do.

It took you a full minute to properly recall the explanation he’d given about his suspension.

“Oh,” you said. “Minjun told me that you got suspended because you were caught completely wasted, spray-painting one of the campus buildings.”

Jungkook nodded, his eyes cast low.

“To be fair, I did spray-paint that one,” he admitted. “And I was probably wasted when I did it. But I wasn’t caught.”

You weren’t sure if “spray-painting” was a lesser offence than “stealing a projector from a laboratory” in your eyes, but you didn’t want to question Minjun’s decision now.

“Okay,” you said. “So what happened after you stole the projector?”

“Well, I took the borrowed projector up to my room and set it up,” he replied. “Everything looked great. I was going to give you the best Valentine’s Day dinner this world has ever fucking seen.”

He smacked his palms against his thighs as he spoke, showing off his determination, and you found yourself resisting a smile again. Jungkook had a certain way of telling stories—his changing smiles and small chuckles, his hand gestures and even his tone of voice always made it feel more vivid.

“But, um, I had to move the wardrobe to get a bare wall,” he continued. “And, uh, what I did not foresee was that, earlier that very same day, my roommate’s electric kettle had broken. He went out, purchased a new one. And he put the old one on top of the wardrobe to save space.” Jungkook gave you a moment to think back on this roommate. “You remember the guy, he hoarded everything, all kinds of fucking cables and wires, and—anyway. So, I started to push the wardrobe, and the fucking kettle—it fell and hit me right on the top of my head.”

A surprised gasp left your lips—a stark contrast to the easy, laid-back way he had just spoken.

Jungkook nodded in response to your reaction. “Yeah. My vision sort of darkened and I thought I heard something crack—I, uh, I did think it was my skull, not going to lie.”

He chuckled again—to minimise the impact of his words once more—but you sat up despite his inevitable protests.

“Jungkook!” you scolded. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“Well, my skull obviously didn’t really crack.”

“I’m not so sure that it didn’t.”

“Anyway,” he stressed. “There wasn’t any blood or anything, so after a few minutes of sitting on the floor, I figured I was good to go. Then I stood up, and, uh—I don’t think you need a visual of what happened then.”

You closed your eyes.

Really, no. You did not need a visual.

About a year ago, at one of the smaller Rated Riot concerts—at a club that seemed harmless at first glance—Jungkook had climbed over to a wooden ceiling beam and swung his arms over it to brachiate across the narrow joist. The beam turned out to be heavily lacquered, and his sweaty palms slid right off, forcing him to crash onto the table below.

He gave himself a concussion, sprained his shoulder, broke $200 worth of bottles and glasses, and frightened the living hell out of the middle-aged couple who were sitting at the table that he’d landed on.

“Yeah,” you said in your quiet hotel room. “I can imagine.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook breathed out. He recalled this exact same moment—and he knew that, once again, the cause of his injury was his own overexertion. “So, I spent the whole night in my dorm room, on the floor—because I couldn’t crawl to my bed—hoping that I wouldn’t die.”

“And it didn’t occur to you to call me?” you asked—not gently. “Or the fucking ambulance, actually?”

“No,” he replied, unfazed by your disapproving tone. “Not if it meant having to explain what I was doing before all of that happened.”

“You’re crazy,” you said, shaking your head. “You clearly got a concussion, and you didn’t do anything about it.”

“To be fair,” he said, “it’s not that I was embarrassed about it or anything. I was just—horrified that I’d let you down. It was Valentine’s Day. I wanted to give you a slideshow and a romantic fucking dinner. Not—not lie on the floor of my room, half passed out.”

You fought against a pensive sadness. It seemed unfair that this night had not gone the way he’d planned.

“W-well, what did your roommate say when he returned?” you asked instead.

Jungkook poked his cheek with his tongue. “He wasn’t very happy that I broke his old kettle.”

“You broke his—Jesus Christ.” Your hands were on your face as you fell back and buried your head into the pillows. “So, he just left you there on the floor?”

“I assume he thought I was drunk.”

“Fucking—what a—and he was valedictorian, wasn’t he? What a fucking moron,” you groaned. “I knew I should have kicked his ass while I had the chance. I never liked him.”

Jungkook felt a warm rush of comfort to hear how agitated you were getting on his behalf.

“Yeah, he didn’t like me very much, either,” he said. “But that’s um—that’s the story. I missed Valentine’s Day, almost died, and got suspended. I couldn’t possibly tell you what happened.”

“No, how could you?” you deadpanned. “Your reputation was at stake.”

He smiled. “Precisely.”

Even though you joked about this, and he was grateful that you did, both of you knew that this was not entirely about upholding some specific “bad boy” image.

You’d already witnessed this side of him – the side that felt anxious and dreaded the thought of not being good enough. Of not meeting expectations. Of letting others down.

In fact, now that you thought about it, your first proper conversation during this tour had been about this very issue.

“The time I was arrested,” Jungkook said, his shaky voice interrupting your thoughts, “that was—it might have been another one of those times.”

“What?” you asked, perplexed again. “How—I was at the police station with you—the officers—”

“I don’t remember a lot of details,” he interrupted. “So, I’m—I’m not really sure. But, uh, apparently, that night we didn’t just spray-paint a building. Or spit at the officers, allegedly, while we ran from them. The police assumed Minjun and I were the “drunk and disorderly” call that they received an hour before they found us.”

Your memories of that night were hazy, too—mostly because you refused to go over the details in your mind. All you could remember was Jungkook calling you from the precinct and asking—in the most resigned voice you’ve ever heard—if you could come pick him up. The story that you were given when you arrived at the police station only came back to your memory in fragments: property damage. Assault of police officers. Resisting arrest.

“You weren’t?” you asked.

“No,” Jungkook said. “We had some drinks at a bar outside of town, and Sid started harassing some bikers across the street. Someone called the police. Jude said he even punched someone there, I don’t know. Minjun and I were already back in the city at that time. I asked him to come with me to keep watch. I wanted to spray-paint these song lyrics for you—”

Your head jerked as your surprise prevented you from shaking it properly. “Wait—you—what? What lyrics?”

“It’s—well, you know what lyrics,” he replied, timid suddenly. “There was only one song we listened to all the time.”

You remembered.

It’s you and me ‘til the end of time.

You swallowed, breathless, and almost completely weightless as you clutched the duvet tighter in an attempt to ground yourself.

“The building I chose was downtown,” Jungkook continued. “Right across the street from the park where we had our first—well, our first date. I wanted that place to have something—something that we both loved. To commemorate all that we had, I don’t know. I haven’t been a very good boyfriend to you at the time, and I wanted to redeem that.”

The unexpected tightness in your stomach worried you for a second, but the sedative must not have fully worn off yet, because you took a deep breath and felt your body wind down a little. The room continued to blur behind Jungkook, but you suspected that your condition or medication had little to do with that.

“And, uh,” you tried to ask, “the police found you there?”

Jungkook nodded.

“I think Sid guided them to us,” he said. “It never made sense to me why the police would even go there. No one patrolled those streets, what was the point? Not to mention, it was dark, we were dressed in black, and—honestly, it wasn’t our first time with graffiti. But what happened was, I got a text from Sid, saying that someone at the bar had called the cops on him. And not five minutes later, he and Jude both showed up downtown, and we heard sirens.”

“So, what did you do?” you asked—uncertain, suddenly, if you’d actually asked him this before. You had talked to one police officer that night and had accepted everything he told you as the truth.

“Well, Minjun and I ran, of course,” Jungkook said.

“And the other two?”

“I can’t remember the exact sequence of—I was—I was drunk,” he said, giving you an apologetic look. He wanted to share the whole story with you, but he wasn’t sure if he knew it himself. “I remember Sid and Jude shouting at us that they would hold the cops back while we ran—and I didn’t even—we didn’t even think that there was anything weird about that. Minjun and I just ran.”

You felt your memories frantically rearrange themselves after every word that he said. Your head had turned into a disorderly, confused mess.

“The, um—the spitting, then?” you asked.

“That had to be Sid and Jude,” Jungkook speculated. “But I guess I might have done that, too. I, uh—I want you to have the full story, so I won’t deny things that I can’t even remember. I’m thinking about it now, and I don’t know which moments were really Minjun and me, and which were actually Sid and Jude. We were all very drunk, and nobody at the police station believed a word we were saying anyway.”

You nodded, urging him to continue, and he did—grateful and a little scared that you were listening to him so intently.

“Minjun and I got a good head start,” he spoke. “I don’t know what Sid and Jude meant by saying they’d hold the police back, because three officers still chased after us. But they were always at least five metres behind—I could tell from the distant sound of their shoes. I remember feeling so disconnected from my feet as I ran, I could sense I was going to trip. I don’t—honestly, I’m not saying this to defend myself—but I don’t know how I would have managed to look at the cops over my shoulder, spit at them from five metres away, and keep running without breaking my neck or falling over.”

“Hmm—yeah. I don’t know, either,” you said, turning away from him. You understood that it was important for him to clear his conscience, especially if he had been held accountable for something he didn’t even do, but you had other questions. “I’m confused about something else, though. If you and Minjun were being chased while Sid and Jude stayed back, why weren’t they brought into the station?”

All Jungkook did was raise his head and give you a look.

“Right,” you realised. “Of course. Money.”

He looked back down and nodded.

Exhaling, you studied the ceiling tiles for a few seconds before admitting, “I’ve always had a feeling that Sid had set you up.”

“Yeah,” he replied with surprising calmness. “I think so, too.”

You ran your fingers over your hair and pulled a strand from the back of your head to toy with it as you tried to think.

In every conversation that you’ve had about Sid using Jungkook as a scapegoat, Jungkook had either insisted that you were misunderstanding, or he simply fell silent (to avoid arguments, you assumed, and not necessarily to indicate his agreement with you).

This felt very new and particularly unusual. He wasn’t feeding into your dislike for his friends. He was doing something else now, but you were hesitant to draw conclusions about what it might be.

He had claimed he was done with Sid right after their fight, but after enduring his insufferable friends for years, you weren’t ready to believe that you wouldn’t have to see Sid’s nauseating mug again.

“But, anyway,” Jungkook said after a quiet minute. “Minjun and I apologised. Minjun paid bail. We signed something—I don’t even know what that was. And I went home with you. That’s the, um—the whole story as I remember it.”

You simmered in your cluttered mind for a moment longer, attempting to form a thought that you could voice. But all you could manage was a question. “Why didn’t you talk to me?”

“Would it have made a difference?” he asked. “I was still caught. You had to come and pick me up.”

“At least I—it would have—okay. I don’t know,” you finished lamely. This was a ‘what if’ that you didn’t have the strength to consider.

He hadn’t lied to you, though, you realised—and you weren’t sure how that made you feel. He allowed you to make assumptions that his friends were to blame, and he went along with it. That wasn’t worse than outright lying to you, but it wasn’t much better, either—it still put an unnecessary strain on your relationship.

Logically then, knowing the whole truth about what was happening with him might have made a significant difference. He had good intentions—yet he did not use them to defend himself.

You felt a little sorry that he only told you now, when you couldn’t go back and see what would have happened if you’d known about this all along.

But you realised you did not feel angry. You couldn’t find a specific point in his revelations that you could point at and say, “this is the one. This will be the reason why I can’t stand to look at you anymore.”

You couldn’t say that his choice to be silent made sense, but you knew him. And you understood why he made that choice. The way you saw it, this was partially his friends’ fault anyway.

All on his own, Jungkook wouldn’t have felt this uncertain, this insecure to admit to you that he loved you and that he wanted to show that to you in unorthodox ways—a lot of which didn’t work out.

“So, you just…” you spoke up again. “You were okay with me assuming that you were out with friends every night? That you chose them over us repeatedly?”

Jungkook sighed. If there was anything he’d learned over the past few days, it was that communication was not his strong suit. But now he’d reached a point of no return. He had to talk.

“Honestly, I thought it was a better alternative,” he said. “I thought I was a miserable try-hard. And I realised after our conversation in Amsterdam that, well... this is part of the reason why I didn't—why I assumed that you broke up with me because you didn’t love me anymore. And not because I kept fucking up.”

Your breaths were shallow as you listened to him.

“I think that it turned against me, this unnecessary secrecy,” Jungkook continued. “I wanted to be the best for you, and when I couldn’t be, Sid became a great excuse. But in my head—for me, he didn’t seem to have that big of a presence in our relationship. But of course, after I blamed my own mistakes on Sid, too, they built up. And, in the end, I think what happened was that…”

He faltered and you finished his sentence for him, “I started to see that all the reasons why you fucked up were Sid. Sid. Sid. Sid.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I made you think that if I was given a choice, I’d choose my friends over you. Which I wouldn’t! But, um—I had a very poor way of showing that. Have, actually. Still do. I’m sorry.”

“Hmm.” You turned away. “Do you—you know what else I think this is?”

He looked at you. “What?”

“Sid’s influence,” you said. “You were so scared that he would think you’re hopeless or pathetic that you couldn’t even talk about the things that you did—the things that you wanted to do for me. You thought you were a ‘try-hard’ because your friends convinced you that you were.”

Jungkook felt stunned and a little nauseous.

He didn’t know if this was something he’d implied in his endless attempts to apologise for the bet, but you articulated everything he had struggled to convey.

He was trying to prove to Sid that he wasn’t pathetic—and he was doing it long before Sid suggested the bet. He was doing it every time he went out with his friends. He was doing it every time he allowed you to blame these friends after he missed your dates—just so he wouldn’t have to admit how much he tried to make these dates special, and how miserably he’d failed at that.

Eventually, he began to accept that he was truly pitiful for being so stubbornly in love with you. He hated their pity. He wanted to change it. Make it not so.

But the aftermath of the bet made him realise that all he really did, was prove that he was pathetic—he wanted to get you back in any desperate way possible.

He was okay with that now.

He was okay with being so in love with you that he couldn’t think straight. Couldn’t focus on anything else. Couldn’t stay where he was, repeating the same mistakes, going round and round, because he needed to grow. Needed to become someone who deserved you.

He was okay with it because being pitiful meant being in love with you, and he would never try to fight against that.

And you knew all these things about him. You knew everything.

He didn’t really understand how the world worked and he didn’t know if destiny played favourites. But he remembered writing a line in one of Rated Riot’s earlier songs—you weren't made for me, that much is true / but I was made for you—and he was once again confronted with the weight of this realisation.

He loved you. He’s always been yours so completely and wholeheartedly that you read him without looking at him.

He liked to think he knew you well—but that was extremely presumptuous of him. You were a universe within a universe. Really, it was you who knew him in ways he didn’t know himself.

“I—you’re right,” he said, running his tongue over his chapped lips. “I shouldn’t have given a fuck about what they thought, but I did. And I don’t—I, um—I don’t want this to seem like I am an angel for telling you about all that. No, I fucked up. Many times. We went binge-drinking, drag-racing, we skipped classes, failed tests, spray-painted buildings—”

“Stole projectors,” you interjected.

“—stole projectors,” he repeated reluctantly. “It wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, while I only pretended to fuck up. No. I took you for granted many times, I know I did. And I’m—I’ll always be sorry about that. But I’m—I’ve kicked him out. Sid. I’m done. Truly done this time. And I don’t even care if Jude stays.”

The way his voice broke off at the last sentence sounded like he cared a little, but you recognised the determination in his eyes when you looked at him. He’d made a decision.

“And Minjun?” you asked.

Jungkook inhaled. “Minjun… said he’d stay.”

“Good,” you said.

“Good—yeah?” he asked, evidently surprised. “You think so?”

Minjun had constantly looked like a kicked puppy when you were in the room. Now that you understood why, you thought you liked him a little more for it.

“Yeah,” you said. “I think he’s the only one of your friends worth keeping.”

“I’m starting to see that, too,” he admitted. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

You looked down. With half of the vitamin drip gone now, you felt your body start to return to you—and, automatically, the surreal haze inside this hotel room began to clear. You were no longer floating somewhere on the ceiling and only pretending that you were perfectly fine.

You were coming back to yourself. And the return was rugged and painful.

 “You, um—you keep apologising to me like—like you’re obligated to respond to me,” you said. Jungkook didn’t know if you realised it, but your voice changed when you spoke to him as his manager and not as someone he’d known and loved for over seven years. “I’m your manager, but these things—you can—I shouldn’t tell you how to live your life. That’s not my—”

“I want it to be, though,” he cut you off with a sudden boldness that he hadn’t realised he still had in him. “I-I mean, I don’t want you to worry about me like that ever again, but I—I want you to think about me. Sometimes, you’re the only person who truly does.”

You shook your head—not to rid yourself of the responsibility, but to remind him, yet again, that he had people who wanted what was best for him.

And, honestly, he knew he did. He just wanted you.

“You have your grandma,” you said.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, nodding distractedly. “But, um, you know.”

“And you’re loved by thousands,” you continued. “They all want you to stay safe.”

He smiled—appreciative but oddly apologetic.

“I’m grateful for that,” he said. “It’s just that—I want you to be the one who wants that for me. I’ve only ever loved you, I’ve never—never been in a relationship with anyone who wasn’t you. And I don’t want to be, so the next thing that you say better not be about me finding someone else, because—”

“You have been in other relationships, though,” you said despite his warning. You didn't know if this was really true, but you ploughed ahead anyway—just to say something. “I don’t know how long or short, but Sid always bragged about your double dates whenever he called me to pick you up, so—”

“The double dates,” Jungkook said, “meant that Sid was on a date with two girls at the same time. And I was there for decoration.”

You scoffed. “I hardly imagine that to be possible, considering Sid looks like a sewer rat on a good day.”

Jungkook wanted to argue, but he was too amused by this image.

“And, um—what do I look like?” he asked.

You blinked, taken aback by the question, then quickly turned away to gaze out the window instead. “You look… you know what you look like.”

“No,” he said, fully grinning now. “Now that you mention it, I realise I actually have no idea what I look like.”

“There’s a mirror on the wall right behind you.”

“It’s like I’m blind, I don’t know what’s—”

“You’re ridiculous,” you groaned, your face warm. “You look nice. Move on.”

“Oh! That’s high praise coming from you.” He made an effort to bow. “Thank you.”

“Fuck off,” you retorted because you couldn’t smack him on the shoulder. Instead, you motioned with your hand, urging him to keep going. “Sid couldn’t get a date with a personality worse than his looks. Not if you were there.”

“I’m sure the expensive restaurant worked in his favour,” Jungkook remarked.

You threw your head back, realising the significance of money yet again. “Ah.”

“In any case, I don’t care,” he said. He cleared his throat and leaned back in his seat. “I never wanted to be with anyone who wasn’t you anyway. Which—as you’ll be happy to point out—sounds silly because when Sid was in a good mood, he was very dedicated to making sure neither of us left the club alone.”

You shrugged one of your shoulders, trying to come off as casual. “Well, since you brought it up.”

“Yeah, well.” He sighed, not running away from this, because, frankly, there was nowhere to run. “And you’re, uh—you’re my manager. You know what I’ve been doing after hours anyway.”

“Hmm.”

You didn’t have a better response, because there was something that Luna had said to you the other day that would not leave your mind alone.

He had the option to keep the bet a secret from you.

This evening had been filled with these options.

It would have been easy not to mention his miserable attempts at grand gestures or the people who were there after you. But he was bringing up everything—every little detail from your relationship and after it—and you sat expressionless on the bed, not knowing what to make of any of it.

“I meant what I said, though,” Jungkook said, leaning forward again. He felt restless; as if he could jump out of his skin if he tried hard enough. “You’re the only meaningful relationship I’ve had. It wasn’t fair for me to pretend to be interested in a second date with someone else, when I constantly caught myself thinking about if I’d ever see you again. Or when I’d see you again, after we started to work together.”

Your eyes were focused on the sheets of the bet, but he still didn’t dare to look at you.

“I didn’t want to believe that I could still be in love with you after all this time,” he said. “But—well, the evidence is against me.”

“W-why’d you go with Sid then?” you asked—quickly. Before he said something else that you didn’t know how to respond to. “Clubbing and on these dates?”

He clenched his jaw. “Well, you said it. I was trying to prove to him that I wasn’t pathetic. That I wasn’t in love with you anymore.”

“But why did you care so much about what he thought?” you pushed, and there was a hint of hurt in your voice. Jungkook felt his heart leap over several beats as it pounded against his ribs. “Why did his opinion matter to you more than mine?”

He exhaled so deeply that it was almost a miracle his lungs hadn’t collapsed. His insides were burning with regret. With an urge to turn back time. An urge to make things right.

“Because I was—I was a fucking idiot. For years before I met you, I thought Sid had everything I wanted,” he said—which was equally as simple as it was unfair, and, in retrospect, stupid. “The freedom, the audacity to do whatever the fuck he pleased. No consequences, ever.”

You remembered him saying the same thing to you on the bridge in Stockholm and felt yourself shiver as though the wind from that night had followed you all the way here.

“And the way he treated me when I was single was different, too,” Jungkook continued. “I was single, I was in a band, and it finally felt like he approved of me, like we were actually friends. Like we were equals. And I cared about that so fucking much. It felt like I finally had everything that he had, and I was just—blind.”

“But you didn’t,” you said. “You didn’t have what he has. I don’t think you ever will.”

Jungkook was surprised to realise that hearing this did not sting.

He agreed.

“Yeah,” he said. “I actually—I had so much more than Sid would ever have, because I had you. And that’s—that’s probably why he dragged me around with him. He was determined to make me truly lose you like he always made me lose everything. And I let him—I helped him make that come true. I can’t—I’m not much better than him. I want to believe I am, but I’m—I made the bet.”

You remembered thinking that Jungkook and Sid could never be equals, because Sid always needed Jungkook to have less. And now that you heard Jungkook come to a similar conclusion on his own, you thought you felt the room shift a little.

“Yeah,” you said, distracted. “T-that—the bet was fucked up.”

“I know. I’m—I’m sorry,” he said. “I just—I want you to know that I meant everything I had said. All of it. And I understand why you don’t want to believe me. I, uh—I know your family history. But I’ve got mine, too. My grandpa is almost eighty. He’s only ever loved one person his whole life. So did my dad. So will I. It’s just—regardless of what’s going to happen, you’re—I’ll always love you.”

You cleared your throat once, then once more—louder.

Jungkook was about ready to get up, alarmed suddenly, but you quieted and looked around. He caught a glimpse of your eyes as you scanned the room and he realised—in a paradoxical sense of relief—that you were frightened.

Not angry. Not refusing to believe him. Not disappointed or frustrated.

Just scared.

“It’s uh—it’s really late,” you said, looking back at the window. “Isn’t it? The sky’s completely dark.”

He swallowed. You didn’t want to talk about this. And you shouldn’t. You needed rest.

“Yeah, uh… do you want me to close the curtains?” he asked, swallowing all that was still left unsaid.

It was impossible anyway, he supposed, to pour seven years of misguided decisions into one conversation. He was just relieved you hadn’t asked him to leave.

“No,” you said. “Keep them open. I want to see the sky.”

He’d hoped you would say that, and he felt an almost forgotten lightness in his chest when you did. Lots of things had changed over the past few days, but a lot of things hadn’t—including your love for the night.

“A lot of stars tonight,” he said meaningfully. He was glad he had accidentally picked a hotel room with a view of boring back alleys: there were no lights to cover up the stars now.

“Yeah,” you agreed, much calmer. “They’re beautiful.”

There was a quote in a book his grandmother had once read to him: “are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?”

He remembered feeling oddly wistful when he heard it. He imagined the night sky behind his closed eyes and he felt as though he was lacking something crucial—something that would come, but not yet.

He remembered watching the way you watched the stars back in Tilburg—hours before it all fell apart.

The night sky had always reminded him of you—really, even before he met you.

“I could open the window wider,” he suggested.

You closed your eyes.

“Could you?” you asked quietly.

“Yeah.” He stood up and approached the window, pulling the frame until he saw the ends of the curtains lift off the floor. “A distinct smell, isn’t it? The night.”

“It is,” you agreed.

It probably shouldn’t have been possible at this point, but as he turned around and traced your features with his gaze, he thought he fell in love with you a little more at this moment.

“We, um, we have this song,” he found himself saying as he returned to the armchair next to your bed. This song had been buzzing in his head nearly the whole night tonight. You could feel his nervousness as he mumbled, “ah, you probably know it already, it’s so obvious. And I told you in Oslo—okay, anyway. We have this song. It’s a B-side on our second single.”

“Cursed,” you said, recalling the title easily enough because this was your mum’s favourite song.

You always thought that the single—“Haunting,” which was their second title track and the very first Rated Riot song that you’d heard—overshadowed “Cursed.” Perhaps unfairly.

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded. “Who, um—who do you think inspired it?”

Swallowing, you willed your thoughts to clear, so you wouldn’t have to think about the lyrics, but could not do it.

You remembered the entire chorus with perfect clarity, as though you were listening to Rated Riot perform the song in concert right now—Taehyung heavy on the bass and Jungkook yelling out the lyrics with his whole body leaning over the edge of the stage towards the audience.

You’re for the stars and for the moon to see /

You weren’t made for me /

You’re for the night and for the day to breathe /

You’re everything they want to be /

You're the enchantment that makes planets turn /

You’re more than the entire world /

You weren’t made for me, that much is true /

But I was made for you.

“I have no idea,” you said finally. You hoped, against all odds, this was a song that Yoongi wrote when he was drunk—those tended to be very emotional. “Was this the, um, absinthe one?”

Jungkook snickered humourlessly and shook his head.

“Don’t do this to me,” he asked, looking down for a moment—just until he could count the four loose threads in the carpet. Then he returned his gaze to you.

“It was you,” he said. “Your love for the night sky. I know it’s your favourite thing in the world.”

He said that and suddenly your chest was filled with them—with these stars that you loved to watch and he loved to sing about.

“W-well, that’s—you’re, um,” you struggled, “you’re not wrong about that, I guess.”

“It’s a song about my favourite thing in the world, too,” he added.

“W-what’s that?”

He had a sad smile on his face. “You.”

Your stomach tightened again and you squeezed your eyes shut—a feeble attempt to get away from this situation and from all the thoughts that your head could no longer contain.

“Not tonight,” you whispered. “I can’t—I don’t want to talk about us or about—about anything else tonight.”

“Okay,” he agreed immediately. “We won’t talk about it.”

“Okay,” you echoed, even though his laid-back response did not relax you.

You sensed longing in his words, and anguish. He would have done anything you asked him to—and this power scared you. You didn’t want it. You just wanted—

Exhaling loudly to drown out your thoughts, you turned to a side and glanced at the bandages on his face.

“Tomorrow, we will have to—we’ll have to figure out what to do with your eye,” you said.

Jungkook had not fully returned to this planet yet. “My eye?”

“Yes,” you said, giving him a longer look—as if to check if you hadn’t dreamt him—and then closing your eyes again. “Your black eye.”

He reached up to touch the bandages, perpetually confused about his injuries. “Oh—what do you mean, what to do with it?”

“Well, it’d probably be weird to cut it out, so we’ll have to cover it up.”

“Hmm.” He smiled at the ease in your voice. If everything else was lost, he hoped that he would at least get to keep your banter. “Okay.”

“I’ll think of something,” you promised as the gentle night wind brushed a strand of hair away from your face and fluttered your tired eyelashes.

“Thank you,” Jungkook said in a hush—his courage had finally abandoned him. “I’m sorry that this is another thing that you have to—”

“No,” you cut him off. “It’s not that bad.”

You tried to turn your head towards him, but lying here with your eyes closed felt very pleasant. You thought you’d felt revitalised before, you thought your body had started to feel more like it belonged to you again, but that had been momentary. You couldn’t keep your eyes open long enough to properly look at him.

“Do you mind if I… keep my eyes closed for a minute?” you asked.

“Do you mind if I stay here?” he responded.

“You—”

“Actually, I don’t care,” he decided. “I’m staying.”

You forced yourself to look at him. “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”

“You always say you’re fine,” he reminded you. “Look at where we are now.”

“It was a one-time thing. Look at this.” Lethargically, you raised your arm with the catheter. “I’m being pumped full of vitamins. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” he said. “I want to believe that. Really, I do, but you have to stop. You can’t keep going like this. I-I mean—”

You shook your head against the pillow. “Jungkook, this is really nothing.”

“I have a hard time believing that when you’re connected to a—”

“It’s—”

“Look, just—” he took a breath and extended his hands, “—p-please—please don’t let this happen again. Please look after yourself. I can’t lose you.”

He knew he might have to keep working with you without ever calling you his again. He’d have to learn how to deal with that.

But he could never deal with being here without you.

“Okay,” you said, your eyelids heavy. “Okay, I’ll be careful.”

“I’m going to need a promise here,” he said, reaching out his hand.

You chuckled weakly and extended your hand to gently graze his palm with the tips of your fingers. “I promise.”

He leaned in closer to fully grasp your hand in his, and saw the gentle—likely unconscious—smile on your lips as you squeezed his fingers. His chest filled with a warmth so big and powerful that, reasonably, there had to be no space left for his heart there anymore.

And yet something kept beating. He felt his own pulse reverberate against your fingers as he clutched your hand in his.

You’d be alright.

You hadn’t foreseen how calming the gentle dripping of the IV would be. You’d only meant to rest your eyes for a quick moment. You didn’t realise you had dozed off.

Only when your mind sobered up sometime in the early morning hours—you based the time solely on the colour of the sky outside—did you force your eyes open and concluded, with a painful jolt of your exhausted muscles, that you’d fallen asleep.

You looked around and for a moment, the dark, strange room filled your exhausted mind with terror. Then you noticed Jungkook sleeping in the chair next to you, and you felt yourself calm down.

Thank God he was here.

Blinking suddenly, you parted your lips as if preparing to argue with your own thoughts.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. He had a performance tomorrow. And a bandaged black eye that you still hadn’t figured out how to hide.

“I can tell you’re overthinking from all the way over here,” Jungkook said, his voice drowsy, eyes half-open. He must have heard the rustling of your covers and woken up. “Go to sleep.”

“What time is it?” you asked.

He was too tired to note the urgency in your voice as he mumbled, “sleeping time.”

“Jungkook, I’m serious,” you said. Finally, he caught your alarmed tone and his eyes shot open. “What time is it?”

He straightened in his seat and regarded you for a minute while he searched for his phone somewhere on the armchair. You didn’t appear to be in pain, but the emergency in your eyes threw him off.

“It’s three-twenty,” he said after a brief moment of blindness from the bright screen of his phone.

“Shit.” You looked around in the darkness, not sure when you had last seen your phone. You couldn’t remember Jungkook mentioning that he’d picked it up when he found you, and you hadn’t asked for it back. “I have to—”

“No,” he said, getting to his feet.

“No,” you argued back. “I need—”

He leaned over your bed and took hold of your hands right as you tried to throw off your duvet and sit up. You tried to evade him, but Jungkook proved he’d known you long enough to guess every move you were going to make—in complete darkness.

“No,” he said again, struggling with your relentless dedication to flail your limbs around until you stood up. “Lie down, please. I don’t know what you think you must do at three in the morning, but I promise you, it can wait. It’ll be done. I’ll do everything to make sure everything is okay.”

You stopped resisting his hold and allowed him to gently guide you back onto the mattress. He only let go of you when your head hit the pillows.

“You can’t be here. You need rest,” you insisted as he pulled the duvet over you, tucking it under your sides until you were firmly cocooned inside. You couldn’t tell if he did that for your comfort or to make sure you couldn’t escape this bed.

“So do you,” he countered.

“I'm fine—”

“No—for once, just... please stop saying that,” he asked, his eyes bright, but his voice completely spent. “You’re not fine. You’re getting a vitamin drip because you fainted. You need to sleep.”

You kept your eyes on his for another minute, trying to adjust to the thick darkness, so you could make out his silhouette as he towered over your bed. He was watching you and waiting.

“Okay,” you gave in. “I'll sleep.”

“I’ll be here,” he said, finally sitting back down.

You knew that wasn’t right. He needed to get proper rest. He shouldn’t have kept watch over you.

“Okay,” was all you said despite everything. “Thank you.”

He mumbled something unintelligible in response and you didn’t dare to ask him to repeat it. The room gave space to the night as your conversation wound down.

You could hear a faint screech of a lost bird outside the hotel window. Bugs were singing somewhere in the distance, too. And, as you drifted off, you thought you heard Jungkook whisper a weary “I love you.”

chapter title credits: bad omens, “the grey”

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#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jeon jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x you #bts x reader #bts x you #bts rockstar au #jungkook rockstar au #bts au #jungkook au #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts angst #bts fluff

[xxacademy]

tender

husband!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: succumbing to injuries inflicted by a B.O.W you fight the mental and physical battle to recovery. meanwhile, your husband does everything in his power to support you.

any leon timeline works, except re2. i did have older leon in mind though <3

a/n: inspired by lil a snippet from an anon request, find it here. anyhow, i love how this turned out, i was 🥺 writing it. pls lemme know what you think <33

content//warnings: depictions of blood & injury, hospital setting, non-graphic description of an IV, pain medication, y/n is used ONCE, pet names (dear, sweetheart, honey), hurt/comfort.

harsh white light wakes you revealing an image of horror. your trembling hands painted with your own dried blood, hooked up to an IV and a pulse oximeter. dazed, you know you’re in pain, but it’s not registering. it’s like you’re floating, possibly in a dream. a bad dream. but the reality of your condition is enough to confirm this is in fact not.

there’s a small group of medical staff standing at the end of your bed, talking quietly amongst each other. “the bloodwork came back, she’s not infected. all though the acid is wreaking havoc on her immune system, sending it into overdrive. the patient needs to be monitored for at least another two days.”

one of the nurses walks over to check on you, first, he looks at the monitors at your bedside, then goes to place a hand on your forehead. he notices you’re waking up, your heavy-lidded eyes focused on your hands.

he calls the doctor over, who pulls a chair up next to you. “hey, how are you feeling?” her voice is soft and calm.

“w-why am i here?” you mutter shakily, unable to make out much more.

“you sustained serious injuries on an extraction mission against a bio-organic weapon. you came in contact with its lethal acid, which is primarily why you’re here. your ankle is broken and you have puncture wounds in your arms.”

you’re still fixed on your bloodied hands, images of what you endured flood back. it was so intense- the last thing you remembered is a sharp talon-like claw piercing your upper arm. it all went fuzzy after that.

“you had surgery early this morning, and we have you on a morphine drip to help with the pain. please let us know if you begin to feel ill.”

you respond with an unsteady nod.

“you’re gonna be alright.” she smiles sympathetically.

another nurse comes into the room walking directly to the doctor. their speaking is hushed. “doctor, there’s a man here to see the patient. he says he’s her husband.”

“we can’t risk exposure from an outsider, we can’t have visitors yet.”

“he seems antsy.”

“well, assure him that she’s okay”-

the room is dead silent, so you can rather clearly make out what they’re saying.

“bring him in.” your voice quivering.

their heads turn, giving you a look of disappointment. similar to the one your mother gave you as a child. a sullen expression of remorse when she couldn’t afford to buy you new toys.

they do not want to hold your loved ones away from you. but it’s what has to be done. after all, it could mean life or death.

you sigh. you’re in no place to put up a fight.

“i’ll talk to him.” the nurse whispers. leaving the room.

“i’m sorry mrs. kennedy, you’re just not in a well enough state for visitors yet.”

you respond with yet another dreary sigh. fidgeting with the ring finger of your left hand.

your wedding ring is missing. you know you were wearing it prior. you’re always wearing it. sometimes you would loop it around a necklace chain, but you didn’t before this mission. surely it was on your finger.

“-doctor” you whisper.

“yes mrs. kennedy.”

“do you have my wedding ring?”

your tattered and blood-stained belongings were placed in a biohazard bag. a nurse picks up the bag feeling through the plastic for a ring.

“it’s not in here.” the nurse admits, a touch of anxiety in her voice.

“that’s okay.” you exhale.

it’s not okay. your beautiful diamond ring was more than just a pretty thing. it was one of the only sentimental pieces you coveted so highly. hand-picked by leon, it was a symbol of his undying affection. despite all the odds pinned against your love.

wanting to cry, but your bloodshot eyes are dry. the medication numbs you enough to let the pain run by, but you still feel broken, physically and mentally.

the hours pass as you bob in and out of sleep. your wavering limb’s finally settling. nurses and doctors are always present, constantly checking your vitals.

the next day two nurses come to bathe you at your bedside. gently wiping the sticky dried blood from your skin. the other trying to get it out of your hair.

“thank you, i mean it, thank you,” you whisper, fighting to keep your eyes open.

it was a relief. the sweet, metallic smell was driving you crazy. it felt itchy and uncomfortable against your skin.

…

leon hasn’t left the hospital. confined to a chair in the waiting room for the last day and a half. constantly flagging down staff for updates on your condition.

“she’s doing really well, the blood transfusion took perfectly.” the nurse smiles reassuringly.

“does that mean i can see her?”

“not yet, but soon.”

leon sighs. “well anyways, thanks for the good news.”

he sullenly returns to his chair. the stress and lack of sleep painting his under eyes dark. in his grasp is a picture you two took together, one he always carries in his wallet. it was taken a few years ago and you’re kissing his cheek. it’s the only solace he can find in the depressing waiting room.

leon had fallen asleep for the first time in over twenty-four hours. slumped over in his chair, chin resting in his palm. he jerked awake when his chin slipped. it was dark outside and the lobby eerily quiet.

3:47am

leon walks to the front desk heavy-footed and groggy. “my wife, y/n kennedy, is she okay?” his voice is grave.

“yes sir, she’s sleeping- and everything is looking good. but, you should get some sleep too sir, it’s gonna be a while until she wakes up.”

“-thanks.”

the pain of not being able to see you cuts like a knife. leon can't stand the image of you suffering and alone. but he’s borderline delirious from the sleep deprivation. he returns to his chair, lays his legs out across another, and falls asleep.

leon is jolted awake by a nurse tapping his shoulder. it’s morning- warm sun seeping through the windows and the smell of fresh coffee wafts through the lobby.

“do you need me to move?” he asks, still half asleep. voice deep and raspy.

“oh no mr. kennedy, your wife is on the right track to her recovery. you can go see her now.”

…

you feel much more alert, the daze the blanketing your apprehensive thoughts finally lifting. they switched you onto a far less invasive medication, which was probably helping.

it’s been a week since you’ve seen leon, and about two of those he’s been here, but just barely out of reach.

whenever the nurses praised you for the progress you made- you jump straight to asking if you're well enough for visitors. In your defense, it’s been unbelievably hard going through this journey alone.

the door creeks open, a very common occurrence of your stay. but instead peaking through the door is your blonde-haired husband.

you immediately start to cry- tears welling up and streaming down your cheeks. leon tears up too, casting a glossy filter over his blue eyes. he delicately wraps his arms around you, careful not to inflict any more pain. and you bury your face into his chest, immediately staining his shirt with your cry.

“i missed you, leon, i can't believe you’re here, i’ve missed you so much.” you sob.

“it’s really you, you don’t understand how much i’ve missed you, dear.”

you take your time, relishing in the comfort of your husband's arms. he gently rubs your back, consoling you with his touch.

“how're you feeling?”

“ugh okay, i guess. my whole body hurts and i can barely move. but the doctors say i’m improving- so yippee” your deadpan tone emphasizes how exhausted you are.

“that’s what i heard. and look, i know it’s been hard, but i’m so proud of how strong you’ve been, sweetheart.”

“i love you.”

“i love you, too” leon squeezes his embrace around you a little tighter, gently kissing the top of your head.

you smile, the first one in a while. but it quickly fades. “leon, can i tell you something.”

“of course you can.”

you fidget with your hands pressing your face deeper in his chest. “i lost my wedding ring- i think it was during the mission. i’m so sorry.”

“is that really what’s on your mind right now?” leon chuckles.

you look up at him with, tears streaming down your face. “you do understand how much that ring meant to me.”

“of course, i know, dear. but how can i care about the stupid ring if the wife i thought died is actually alive and in my arms?”

leon wipes the tears from your cheeks, his hand cupping your jaw. “i promise i’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“okay.” you say sniffling your runny nose.

with a big yawn, leon stands up raising both arms up into a stretch, his shirt lifts up slightly showing off his abdomen. “i’m going to find your doctor, see when you’re coming home.”

you smile. it’s nice not being alone. you feel bad knowing leon anxiously waited at the hospital for days. but there’s an unfamiliar warmth in knowing how much he cares. leon had always cared about you- before you were even dating. that’s one of the many reasons why you married him. aside from the ongoing list of shared interests- he’s so protective, it’s one of his beautiful ways of loving you.

leon comes back to the room, “looks like they need to run more blood tests, make sure that acid is out of your bloodstream before you come home.”

you’re totally spaced out, it feels like you haven’t even had a chance to take in what’s happened to you. it’s all become a blur, taking in the moments a second at a time. you were so worried about the details it almost failed to compute that you were nearly infected by the very thing you swore your life to rid of.

like a time release valve finally triggering; anxiety washes you cold- it could have been the end. leon would have been widowed, and all your friends would have been at your funeral. your mind is playing devil's advocate. what if i don’t get better? are the doctors just hoping i stay positive?

“are you okay?” leon’s bloodshot eyes are nearly aching with concern.

“i’m scared.” your chest is sinking deeper with each anxious breath.

“why? why would you be scared?”

it may not make sense to you now- but having leon there was a sort of reality check. alone, you just survived. with him, everything has weight.

“i dunno… i just want things to be okay. i want you to be okay, i want to get better.”

leon rushes to your bedside, holding your hands in his. “but it will get better- you’re doing better, so much better! i’ll be there every step of the way. i promise you.”

you take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. trying to hang on to his words.

you sob, absolutely overcome by emotion. “i love you, leon. thank you for being here, thank you for everything you’ve done.”

a nurse knocks at the door but you don’t let go of leon’s hand.

“mrs. kennedy- so sorry to intrude. but the doctor wants to do a scan of your ankle. is that okay?”

you wipe the tears from your face, trying to compose yourself.

“yes, of course, that’s alright, thank you.”

leon whispers “you got this, dear,” before standing up and sitting in a chair by the window.

…

leon has done everything possible to make the next few days easier for you. like ordering takeout and watching your favorite movies with you. serving as a distraction while you recover.

it certainly worked. he’s good at keeping you calm, and the energy light-hearted. you didn’t even think it was possible, given the grim reality of your circumstances. but somehow he can have your eyes filled with tears, giggling with laughter.

four days you’ve been in the hospital, and today is your last one. you’re able to stand up and the effects from the B.O.W are finally gone. granted you still have a long journey to recovery, at least you can go home.

…

after the agonizing hours of travel, you make it home. leon helps you into the house, guiding you to your bed. “i want to take a bath, i feel disgusting.”

“i’ll draw one for you, you want it now?”

“hmhm” you nod.

“sure thing, sweetheart.” leon tenderly kisses your forehead.

he runs a hot bath, adding a little lavender soap, just the way you like it. he walks you to the tub and helps you undress. he holds your hand as you shakily step in, slowly adjusting to the hot water.

“god my first real bath in a week, can you believe it.” you sigh, sinking your body in the bubbly water.

leon chuckles, “i know, you poor thing, those nurses really tried their best to help. but it’s never the same, is it?”

“…especially considering i was covered in congealed zombie guts”

leon laughs, “but look at you now, covered in…” he pauses to read the name on the soap bottle “…lavender dreams”

you both giggle, in love and delighted by each other's company.

“okay, i’ll leave you to it, holler if you need anything.”

…

“leon! will you fetch my bathrobe!” you yell from the bathroom. you hear his feet patter across the hardwood, “coming."

you stare at your reflection in the mirror as you brush your wet hair, inspecting the scars, bruises, and stitches that litter your body. it feels like you came home to a different person, a body you’re now unfamiliar with.

leon peaks through the door. head cocked to the side. “everything alright, baby?”

“i don’t know- it’s hard to wrap my head around it. i-i feel off.”

“c’mere i got something to show ya.” leon swoops you off your feet carrying you in his arms.

“what are you doing?” you giggle wrapping your arms around his neck.

“you’ll see.”

he delicately sets you down on the couch in the living room and sits next to you. he fumbles around in his pocket pulling out a little black velvet box.

“leon-honey, oh my god, what is that.” your eyes are round and doe-like, your bottom lip beginning to quiver.

he opens the box, presenting it to you as if his hands were a clamshell, revealing a glimmering ring set in pearlescent white satin.

“for you- i know it was hard losing the ring, but that one was beaten up anyways. you deserve something a little nicer.”

tears swell, gathering in the inner corners of your eyes. chocked up and rendered speechless, you mouth the words, i love you.

he reached for your trembling left hand, sliding the diamond wedding ring onto your finger.

“i love you, most.” he beams, the words fluttering with tenderness.

“i-i love the ring, it’s beautiful-truly. but how’d you do it?”

“do what?”

“get a new ring, you were with me the entire time…?”

“i have my ways,” he smirks, planning on keeping that little secret to himself.

leon holds your hand, admiring the way your hand looks adorned by his diamond ring.

“remember when we got engaged?” he muses.

“of course i do! you took me to milan, i should have known you were going to propose.”

“you have the same look in your eyes as you did then.” leon swipes his thumb along your cheek, smiling to himself, gazing into your eyes.

“and you’re as smooth as ever” you look at him through your lashes, pupils wide. “but really leon, thank you, means more than the world”

“you are my world.” his soft lips meet yours, kissing you gently.

somewhere in the crystal pools of leon’s eyes, you find the hope you were looking for. his unbreakable faith in you, alongside his never-ending acts of love, is reassuring.

hell, it’s not going to be easy, but at least you're not alone.

⭐️tags

@yourgentlegirlfriend

#academy fics✨ #thank you for reading <3 #leon kennedy #resident evil #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy #leon fluff #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy hurt/comfort #hurt/comfort #husband!leon kennedy #wife!reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #resident evil fanfiction

[ghostlywhiskey]

Simon “Ghost” Riley - Love of My Life (Simon’s POV)

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4,012

Warnings: MDNI 18+ ☆ grinding, fingering, spitting, unprotected sex - If anything else let me know - I'm slightly brain dead writing this.

Summary: Simon comes to your apartment to end things between you.

A/N: Fueled by the song that is my top song of all time on Spotify tee hee. Babies…we know the drill. My proofreading is always little to none. This one took forever because I struggled writing the smut for this, but cheers xoxo.

find my masterlist here

Baby, you were the love of my life, woah Maybe you don't know what's lost 'til you find it

“Hey.” My voice sounds so fucking small and pathetic standing in the doorway of her apartment, hands in the pockets of my jeans. “Hey.” She repeats, moving out of the way to let me walk inside.

Somehow trying to breathe while getting waterboarded is easier compared to trying to breathe with the tension in the air between us. 

Walking inside, I kick my shoes off as she closes the door and walks toward her room. Quietly following her it feels like walking with a ball and chain around both ankles. My body is trying to prevent me from going into her room because it’s trying to reject what it already knows. 

She sits down on her bed and I shrug off my jacket, letting it hang off the back of her desk chair as I sit down on it. The silence hangs over us, she’s looking down at her hands. The way she fidgets with her rings indicates she’s nervous. It’s my fault, I’m the one who told her we had to talk. 

“An-” Stopping myself before I say ‘angel’. Not the time. Never again actually. She glances up at me, chuckling softly. “Well, that gives me an idea of where this is going.” The sound of her voice lower than normal, sadness weighing down her vocal cords. The thing is, I can’t even deny her comment. Part of me wants to just say, ‘No, angel. Don’t assume that. We’re fine.’ - but, it would be a fucking lie if I did.

“This would be the part where you disagree with what I’m thinking.” Shaking my head, my eyes meet hers. “But the other part you know I’m going to agree with.” I point out, quickly shooting down any hope as if it was an enemy target. “Then just say it, dammit.” Something snaps in her, I’m the reason for it.

I’m also the reason she lays awake crying when I’m away on missions. The reason she doesn’t have a normal boyfriend who can see her more often than not. The reason she’s left anxious when I don’t reply to a text or a call in a certain amount of time. The reason she feels more alone despite having a man who has loved her more than anything in this life. I wish I didn’t live up to the name ‘Ghost’ when it comes to her, but it’s the one mission I’ve failed.

“I’m letting you go.” The only words I’m able to get out. Because there isn't anything else to say, to me it is as simple as that. She blinks a few times, processing the four words that left my mouth. “Letting me go?” She re-states, confirming what I just said. “Yeah.” I’m detaching my emotions from my words. 

I take you with me every time I go away

The polaroid sat snug between my fingers. It’s replaced the pack of cigarettes I’d once itch to reach for and drag ‘til it was time for another. How is a little image the only thing that relieves any ounce of stress in my body? From one addiction to another, somehow this one feels a lot  deadlier. If only she was as accessible as a pack of cigarettes. She tastes a hell of a lot sweeter between my lips that's for sure. Maybe that’s why this addiction is worse - having a taste every now and then has me crawling back home for more. 

Fuck this shit. I’m fucked. 

Soap nudges my arm, my attention pulled from the drug of choice in my hand. “Is that who I ‘tink it is?” He questions me. The bloody Scot knows the answer to his question. “Oi, why you asking questions you know the answer to?” A grin forms on his face. “Never thought I’d see ‘da day you look fuckin’ smitten is all. Even behind the mask it’s obvious.” And thank fuck for the mask or he’d see I look like I’ve got the worst sunburn of my life. 

“You and me both it seems.” My attention went back to the polaroid, now held between my thumb and pointer finger. Brushing my thumb across the picture of her is like opening flood gates for my mind to imagine she’s right here. As if brushing my thumb over it would have her appear like a genie from a bottle. 

If only it were that fucking easy. 

I remember back at Johnny's place, it's not the same anymore

“Johnny, I’m not a party person.” I state into his ear as I’m trying to leave his apartment. The apartment had slowly filled with people for his birthday, but I was ready to jump out the window. “No, you’ve got to stay!” He protested, putting an arm around my neck. I huff, glancing at him. “One more hour and I’m gone.” Smiling wide, he cheered. “Let’s fuckin’ go!” 

“I need a fuckin’ drink.” The words coming out of my mouth as I walk to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of whiskey. A girl sits on the counter, a cup in her hand as she stares at the crowd of people filling the living room. She looks uncomfortable, but that isn’t my problem. I grab a plastic cup, pouring some whiskey. 

“Are you a dad?” Her voice fills the kitchen. A dad? My brows furrow, turning to look at her. “The whiskey. That’s your drink of choice?” She asks, glancing at the cup before her eyes meet mine. “What?” The confused tone laced in my words. “All the old men in my life drink whiskey.” She slides off the counter, walking over to me. “Well, I’m not in your life. Or old.” I huff, glancing at her cup and nod towards it. “What’s your drink of choice?” 

She smiles, turning the cup upside down over the sink. “Nothing, just pretending.” She chuckles. “I’m the driver tonight since I didn’t even want to be here.” Well, that makes two of us. “You know Soap?” Her expression turns into a confused one, quickly correcting my mistake. “I mean John.” Only then does she nod. “My friend is seeing him, which is why I’m here in the kitchen hiding out. I don’t know anyone out there.” Now, I can’t help but smile. “Mind if I hide with you in here?” I chuckle, sipping the whiskey. 

“If you drink that whiskey, absolutely I mind. But I guess you’re in my life now, so you get a pass.” She teases.

It's unfortunate, ooh Just coordinates, ooh

“Hi, Simon.” Her voice easing every tense muscle in my body, coming undone like a child ripping a Christmas present open with urgency. “Hi, angel.” Responding to her as I hold the phone between my ear and shoulder, sitting down on the bed to undo my boots. “How was your day?” 

“Hmm,” She hums, the sound of her shifting in her sheets fills my ear as I wait for the response. “It was okay, nothing exciting.”

“Where are you this time?” She’s forcing herself to stay awake, I can hear it in her voice. Moments like this I feel selfish having her in my life. Is it selfish? Selfish to love someone who hears your voice over a phone more than they hear it raw and undistorted face-to-face. It has to be. “Mexico. It’s hot a shit.” I mutter, kicking my boots off. Her giggle on the other end puts the first smile on my face today. “What’s so funny, huh?” My brows furrow, grabbing the phone as the floor becomes the fixation of my gaze. The giggle fading as she starts to speak, “I think it’s funny I’m more concerned of you getting heat stroke with that damn mask than anything else.”

“No need to be concerned.” A stupid, dopey smile forms on my face despite how stern my voice sounds. “Easier said than done.” Her response is quick, no thought behind it or second guessing it. A sigh escapes my lips,  “Angel, I mean it. Don’t be concerned.” My eyes wander around the room as I wait for her reply. Why is she so quiet all of a sudden? “Angel?”

“Yeah? Sorry, I zoned out for a second.” The sound of her sniffle followed by a nervous laugh tells me enough. She couldn’t hide her emotions if her life depended on it. “Please don’t cry.” My own voice is strained, every time she gets upset I feel worse about having her in my life. “Don’t tell me what to do, Lieutenant.” She teases, but her laugh this time just sounds sad. My upper body falls back against the mattress as I stare up at the ceiling. “Too bad. I’m telling you what to do.” 

“Simon?” How do I tell her I want to hear her say my name for the rest of my life? “Yeah, baby?” I responded. “I miss you.” Fuck. My throat feels like someone is tightening a rope around it. Why can’t they just fucking cut my air supply off while they are at it? 

The rope loosens, the air coming back into my lungs as I inhale and exhale out. “I miss you too.” My free hand runs down my face, dragging down to rest itself on my chest. “I’ll be home soon, yeah? Then it will just be us. How does that sound?” The thump beneath my fingers intensifies. Closing my eyes for a moment, I focus on the heartbeat. The thought of her next to me. Hiding us from the world in the confines of my apartment walls. I’m not a religious man, but that sounds like heaven. Would God let me in? Would he let me stay? I’m not deserving of either option. But, I’m getting on my knees and fucking praying for at least a few moments.

“It sounds like a plan to me.” Finally, I can tell she’s smiling again on the other side of the phone. 

Baby, you were the love of my life, woah Maybe you don't know what's lost 'til you find it

I think standing on the edge of a cliff would ignite less anxiety in me than sitting on the edge of her right now. The familiarity of being close to death is far more comforting than the unfamiliarity of breaking my own heart so she can live life finding the love she deserves. My legs spread as my elbows rest on my thighs, running my hands through my hair. 

We’ve been going back and forth arguing about breaking up for the past hour now. “So, that’s it?” Her voice punched me back into reality as I looked at her across the room. Her arms crossed as she leaned against her desk.

No. I don’t want it to be. But, I can’t be selfish. You deserve better. 

“That’s it.” I confirm her question, the words coming out of me and taste as bitter as vomit. Except I want to swallow the vomit back up. My eyes go back down to the floor between my feet, scared if I look back at her I’ll swallow the vomit back up. And I can’t.

Her breathing is soft in the dark bedroom, it’s the only sound mixed with my own breathing. And the blood I hear pumping through my body at an alarming rate. “Could I have done anything differently that would have avoided this?” 

God dammit, angel. You were never the problem. 

“Stop that. Don’t think for a second you’re to blame.” Just look at her, stop looking at the floor, dickhead. “Look me in the eyes and say that then.” Her voice strained, my head tilted up to look at her. Sighing, I push myself off the bed, jumping off the cliff. In a few steps, I’m standing in front of her. My hand slips past her neck, slipping behind her head as my fingers tangle in her hair. 

Gently, the hand tugs her hair gently for her to look up at me. “I’m lookin’ at you and I’m tellin’ you that you couldn’t have done anything.” It feels like her eyes are peeling every layer of me back, trying to look for any sign that I’m regretting this deep down. “You’re never gonna get what you deserve from me.” The sound of my voice breaking at the end is the first time I’ve let it show emotion tonight. The tears slowly built up in her eyes, my gaze locked on her. She knows I’m right. Again, it’s just something she doesn’t want to admit. “Simon.” Her voice breaks the same time the first tear slides down her cheek.  

My hand slips from behind her head, both of them moving to cup her face. “Angel.” I finally just pull the fucking bandaid off and say my nickname for her after avoiding it this entire time. My head leans down to rest my forehead against hers, her own hands moved to my face. “Please don’t do this. Don’t leave me.” She begs. Thumbs wiping her tears as they cascade down. “I need to, angel. I need to.” I don’t want to, but I never deserved you. The gentle tug of my head caused by her hands, lips connecting with mine. 

She tastes so sweet between my lips, just how I always remember she tastes. But this time it’s mixed with the salty taste of her tears. 

She steps forward, causing me to step back. She keeps walking until my legs hit the bed, my body accepts the fact I can’t move back anymore and drops down to it. Pulling her onto my lap, her arms snake around my neck. The kiss never breaks. I think we’re both scared that if we stop that one of us will try to convince the other we can’t do this. My hands slip under her shirt, one on her waist while the other reaches behind her to unclasp her bra.

My hand stops as my fingers graze the clasp. Don’t do it. Fucking hell, don’t. The tips of my fingers rubbing the clasp to get a feel for it, like I’m trying to pick a lock. The wings of the bra separating as my fingers unclasp the hook. Successfully, the lock has been picked. Once undone, my hands move to the hem of her shirt, pulling it up. Only then do our lips separate to let the shirt pass through and give us a chance to catch our breaths. We aren’t scared this time to separate, knowing we won’t stop each other. As I pull her shirt off, she slides the bra straps down her arms and flings it to the floor. 

While we are separated, I take the opportunity to remove my own shirt. Our clothes started to pile on the floor as we discarded them. Her chest pressing against mine as she moves back in to kiss me, her hips moving against me. Her skin is always so cold, it sends chills up my spine when it comes in contact with my own. My hands slip down to her hips, grabbing them as I help her move against me back and forth.

The only sound besides our kisses are the soft groans building in my throat, my pants becoming a straight jacket against my crotch the longer she grinds against me. “Get rid of the fucking clothes, fuck.” I mutter against her lips, pushing her off my lap as she stumbles to catch her balance. Reaching back out to pull her to stand between my legs, hands on either side of her thighs, running them up to the waistband of her leggings. My head leaning in to place kisses on her stomach, glancing up at her. Her own hands glide through my hair before she gently tugs, another groan leaving my as I pull the leggings down along with her panties. 

It’s shitty for me to give into this. I know it is. It opens the door for us to forget about the conversation we just had, but I’m not forgetting it. I’m leaving after this.

Fingers gently graze her core, her heat radiating as I spread her folds open. My own palm faces me as her already wet cunt is begging for something to clench around as my ring and index finger rub back and forth between her folds. “Always so f’ckin’ ready.” Our eyes are not moving to look away from each other as her hands tug my hair to keep me looking up at her. “Stop teasing. Please.” She begs, her thighs trying to squeeze together but my knee moving to keep her legs separated. “You know how much I like to see you dripping before I even fuck you.” She whines at my response, but it amplifies louder as the two fingers push into her. Her knees slightly bend, causing a chuckle to escape my lips. “Weak at the knees, are you?” Teasing, I kiss her stomach again. “Ngh..” She groans, her hand reaching to grab my wrist. 

Not fighting her back, she pulls my hand away, fingers already coated in her juices. I love how responsive her body is for me. Good luck to the next bastard who has to try and compete with the memory I leave her body with.

As she pulls my hand away, I tug it out of her grasp, slipping the fingers into my mouth to clean. A soft hum against my fingers. So sweet. Once satisfied, my pants are pulled down and I stand up to shrug them off my ankles. Both completely bare now, my arms move to pick her up to move her onto her bed. Hovering over her as she lays on the bed, I push her legs apart and settle between her legs. Like muscle memory, her legs bend slightly and lift to rest her heels on my lower back. 

Supporting myself up, my palms rested by her forearms, but one hand moved to rest over her mouth for a brief moment. “Spit.” And just like the good girl she is, she spits on my palm as some of it drips down her chin. My palm coming up to my mouth as I also spit on it before reaching down to pump my cock. Guiding it to her folds, the tip teases her as I move my cock with my hand to slide between her folds and move side to side to tease her. Her whine again fills my ears, a smirk turns my blank expression into a mischievous one. “Say what you want.” Another order directed to her, her hips lift slightly as she grabs my forearm with one hand. “Fuck me, Simon.” All I needed to hear right now, fuck the teasing is the only thought in my head as I position myself. My hand dropped back to her side as I held myself up and thrusted into her. 

Her initial cry out from the pressure filling her always sends me over the edge. I swear it might be enough to make me fill her right then and there most times. “Perfect fuckin’ fit.” I grumble, my head leaning down to kiss her. Her lips meet mine before I even make it all the way down to her, her hand reaching around my head to pull me closer. The moans from her echoing into my head as she kissed me. Palms now fisting the sheets in my hands, my hips thrust into her roughly. 

Rough and slow - just how she likes it. Finding a rhythm, I stick to it and hold for a few moments every time my hips meet her skin. Burying myself in her like I’m digging my grave, except this won’t be my final resting place. I pull from the kiss, looking down at her. “Eyes on me, got it?” She nods, her eyes only closing for a moment as I thrust into her again and drag out slowly before repeating my thrust just as my tip is on the edge of losing contact with her. She whimpers, and I grab her face in my hands. “Eyes.” I hiss, her eyes opening immediately to stare at me. Her lips spread open slightly as she pulls in oxygen and exhales a moan. My grip on her face releasing, her lips parting more now that she can let air in and out easier now. “Simon.” Her voice drags out the ‘-on’, my eyes watching her as she moans my name. “You sound like an angel, you know that? You say my name like it’s a prayer.” Except I can’t answer her prayers, and I know tonight they revolve around hoping I stay.

Her cheeks look like pink paint has spilled over them, she’s never been one to blush at actions, but she acted as if my words were the sweetest thing she ever heard. “You’re so gorgeous.” My voice is barely a whisper, but it’s quickly covered by a groan as I feel her pulsating around my cock. The way her hands cup my face as my own eyes close, now she demands my eye contact to stay on her. “I love you, Simon.” She chokes out as my eyes open and look at her.

My pupils are already larger to adjust to the dark room, but I’m damn near positive they must look blown out when she says those words. I can’t say it back. We’ve never said it out loud. I’m not saying it now. So, I lean down to kiss her instead, a hand reaching down to grab her waist as I push both of us closer to climaxing. My lips pull from hers as I move town to her neck, kissing her skin. I can’t look at her now.

“I-I’m…Simon…more.” She begs, her arms wrapping around me, her nails dig into my back. Another hiss leaves my mouth as I feel her nails dig into my skin as I kiss her neck. “Angel.” I groan, my thrusts getting sloppy. The hand on her waist moves to her lower abdomen, pushing gently. Time to finish her off.

The squishing noises fill the room as she cries out from her climax that hits her. My own following after as I pull my head from her neck and look at her head leaning back in pleasure. My thrusts go until I feel the last bit of cum spill into her, pulling out of her and collapsing on the bed next to her.

It's not what I wanted, to leave you behind Don't know where you'll land when you fly

The room is quiet, her soft breathing tickling my chest as she sleeps peacefully. My eyes are looking up at the ceiling as I try to shut off my brain and the pros and cons list forming in my head if I stay. I need to leave.

Glancing at her sleeping, I closed my eyes for a minute. Am I preparing myself to leave or remembering the image of her like this? Who am I kidding, I’ll remember her face for the rest of my life. Opening them again, my body carefully slips out of the bed. She stirs slightly, but just rolls over on her other side as she pulls the blankets closer to her body. 

Collecting my discarded clothes, I re-dress myself after the events of the night. My feet quietly walk to the edge of the bed her body is facing, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “For the best.” I whisper, standing back up straight. She doesn’t move awake, but a soft smile forms on her face while she sleeps.

Fuck. I need to get out of here. And with that, I slip out of her room and the apartment. My hands are buried in my jacket pockets as I take the elevator down, eyes fixated on the doors. I’m breaking her heart, but it doesn’t mean mine is breaking any less. I love her.

But, baby, you were the love of my life

#simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #call of duty #simon riley cod #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost x you #simon riley angst

[lighteez]

Comforting Sanji

Hello, hello! This one shot is based after the straw hats saved sanji. (it was ep 796 i believe where sanji's sis cuffed his hands) It'll be based on him finally getting his shackles away and it left a terrible scar on his wrists, so once the crew left whole cake island, you got worried over sanji and decided to take care of him after finding out about his past. You comfort him, cook for him, and tend to his wounds while cursing his entire family and the big mom family. (im on ep810 and i just saw the sanji x luffy fight, i was crying an ocean omg, i cant… it broke me seeing luffy and sanji cry) (p.s. IT HAS SPOILERS!! AND READER IS FEMALE!!!)

“SANJI!” You screamed when you saw the crew members return back with Sanji. When he saw you, he looked at you differently, his smile was still warm, but his eyes screamed a different story. He was hurt, he was in pain.

You gripped the railing of the ship angrily, jumping out of the ship and ran towards him and the crew. Hugging them all, you told them that you took care of the ship well and made sure nothing happened to the Thousand Sunny.

Luffy laughed and nodded, “Thanks for ya help, now let's go back and have a feast! This time with our cook’s dishes!” He screamed like always, running back to the ship with Chopper. They were both happy to get their crew mate and friend back on board, the most exciting part? Sanji's delicious food! You on the other hand felt worried that he might be mentally tired, so being the caring person that you are towards your crew members, you tapped Sanji on his shoulder. 

He turned his attention towards you and stopped walking, a curious expression on his face. “What is it? Is something wrong?” He smiled brightly. Taking in a deep breath, you relaxed yourself and spoke up.

“I’m glad you’re back, Sanji. Are you feeling okay now?” You asked, looking into his eyes to make sure he wasn’t lying to you. Seeing him take a deep breath as well, he relaxed his shoulders, or at least tried to relax. He simply nodded, faking another smile. “I know you’re lying to me… You’re mentally exhausted, am I right?” I asked, looking over to the ship as I saw the crew happily waving at us to hurry back so we can leave this weird island. 

Sanji’s smile fell and he looked down at the ground with no facial expression playing on his face. All those horrible memories of the vinsmoke family came back to him, and he knew it was going to take more time to forget them again. “We really can’t lie to ya, huh? You see right through us.” He whispered, taking out his packet of cigarettes only to see that he was done with them. A thought came to mind, that he must’ve chain smoked a lot while being trapped with them. 

“Sanji… I’m sorry all this happened to you. Let’s go back on the ship, I apologize I wasn’t much help.” I frowned, looking at the floor as well. This entire crew are always in their own world, having fun with another, but when their past or traumas come back, they are actually exhausted and worn out. You hadn’t noticed that these wonderful people suffered so much before they all met. It somehow felt like it should be your job to help these people who took you in when you had nowhere to go. 

“It wasn’t your fault, and you always help us.” He smiled and ruffled your hair. You sighed in defeat, even though they say these things, you still feel useless, so you try your best to help around in the ship. Sometimes you would even train with Zoro and try to learn some fighting techniques. “Come on, let’s get out of here now. I don’t like Whole Cake Island.” He physically shivered and walked towards the ship with you following him.

Once on the ship, you all finally set sail to meet up with the other crew members who stayed on Zou Island. The crew was back to being cheerful, loud, funny and completely normal as if nothing ever happened these last couple of days. You ended up hearing all the news from Carrot about Sanji being a Vinsmoke, almost marrying that daughter from Big Mom, and his past. The more she talked about what happened, you became worried and angry. Nami chimed in on the conversation and said that Luffy and Sanji had a big fight.

Looking over to Sanji and Luffy, they seemed perfectly fine dancing and laughing with the others, as if nothing ever happened between them. Letting out a small smile towards Nami you told her to stop bringing up the past, it would only stay in her mind if she keeps remembering and repeating everything that happened. Nami agreed and just began to drink all the booze to lighten up. Carrot followed Luffy and ate all that she could.

Hours went by in a flash and you excused yourself to freshen up. The only ones still up was Brook and Pedro playing songs while Carrot danced with Chopper. Luffy and Nami were knocked out asleep, and of course Luffy was still eating Sanji’s dishes while sleeping. Everything felt good, and right in its place, however; Sanji was stuck in the Kitchen, cooking and cooking away. You already knew that sometimes he cooks whenever his mind is full of thoughts, and considering all that went down, you were sure he was recalling back old memories. 

Instead of going to the bathroom, you headed towards the stairs and walked to the kitchen. Peeping into the window you saw him there cooking multiple different dishes and keeping himself occupied. “Sanji, do you need help? Please rest up, I’ll take care of the cooking.” You came inside and walked up to him, but he didn’t seem to hear you at all as he had a painful expression on his face. Immediately, you turned the stove off and grabbed his hands, pulling him to sit down on the stool.

“Sanji, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you in pain?” You put the back of your hand on his forehead, but he wasn’t running a fever. Sanji snapped out of it and his expression melted. Looking up at you, he had those same eyes from when you saw him coming back to the ship. 

“I’m fine, I was just thinking about things like always. Don’t worry, okay?” He said, taking a deep breath, but you knew he was broken. As you looked down at his wrists you saw scars of some handcuffs and you let out a loud gasp quickly grabbing his hands to scan the injury. 

“How can I not worry?! Your wrists are hurt! Let me go get Cho-” Before you could turn around to get Chopper, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back.

“Don’t… I’m fine, really. These will go away at some point.” He said, referring to the scars.

“Sanji, these will leave a horrible scar. Please, at least let me treat them.” Sanji looked up at you and locked his gaze on you before agreeing with you. “Okay, I’ll go get the first aid kit. Wait here and don’t you dare move a finger.” You warned him before jogging towards the infirmary room to get the first aid kit. Chopper taught you the basics of tending a wound so you knew how to handle this situation. 

Once you gathered the things, you headed back into the kitchen. Sanji was staring at his wrists that were resting on his lap. He looked tired and worn out, how could you comfort him? What can make him feel better and forget all those horrible memories? You want to help him forget and comfort him. Sanji seems so fragile right now, and you wanted to care for him right now, even if it’s just for a night. 

“I’m back, put your wrist on the counter there.” You laid the first aid kit on the counter nearby his extended wrist. Taking out things one by one, you suddenly blurted out, “The Vinsmokes are all assholes. They don’t deserve you at all. May they all get a slow painful death and regret everything!” Anger was building up inside of you as you could only imagine all the shit he has been through since he was a child. 

Surprisingly, Sanji let out a laugh which surprised you. After cleaning his wound he was just looking at you with a smile again, “Thanks for this. I’ll be fine, I swear.” He whispered, but that didn’t calm your anger down one bit as you started wrapping the bandages around his left wrist first.

“I know you’ll be fine, Sanji, but I can’t help it. If I was there with you, I would’ve killed them with my bare hands, they don’t deserve to live at all. Fuck them all and I will pray for their down fall everyday.” Your words flew out of your mouth, saying the most horrendous things about the Vinsmokes. If only he could read your mind, he would hear all the ways you would be torturing them right this moment. Sometimes, horrible people who don’t redeem themselves at all deserve the worst kind of death. 

His right hand grabbed your wrist and gave it a squeeze, “Hey, a lady shouldn't stress her pretty mind out over the past.” He chuckled, as you looked at him, softening your gaze when you guys met each other's gazes. “And you’re kind of squeezing my wrist there.” A small wince came out his lip as you gasped and stopped gripping his injured wrist. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize I was hurting you!” Without thinking you grabbed his left hand with caution rubbing his arm gently. “You’re okay, right?” You looked at him with gentleness as he stared at you, clearly surprised that you’re being so careful with him. It was the first time he’s seen you this caring towards him, as if he would break with a gentle touch.

He snapped out of his thoughts and nodded, “Yeah. I’m fine, don’t worry.” He looked back at the stove where the food he was cooking probably got cold now. “I should get back to cooking, I’m sure they’re all waiting for my food now.” He chuckled, getting up from the stool, but you pushed him back down to sit down.

“You’re not going to cook with injured wrists, and plus you need to rest, everyone has to rest.” You sighed, frustrated at him because he didn’t want to rest up and listen to you. “Once I’m done bandaging your right wrist, I’m going to get everyone to sleep. I’ll stay awake to make sure there’s nothing over the horizon, and tomorrow morning I’ll cook breakfast, okay?” You went over your list to him as you grabbed his other hand and cleaned his wound, applying ointment as Sanji said nothing. 

The silence dragged on between you two as you cleaned up his wound. You broke the silence first to say this, “Nami told me what happened with Luffy and you. I didn’t expect that to happen honestly.” A small groan escaped his lips as you took your hands away from his wrist, “I’m sorry! Did I hurt you again?” You asked him as he shakes his head in response. 

“No, you didn’t. I just-” He stopped mid sentence and sighed deeply, “I feel so horrible for doing that to Luffy. I know he forgives me for what I’ve done, but- I should’ve been stronger. Instead I hurt my captain after he took me in as part of his crew. I’m such a horrible fucking-” You quickly covered his mouth with your hand, being worried about him. You didn’t want him to finish that sentence at all.

“Don’t say that, Sanji. You’re not a bad crew mate. I know that you had your reasons, okay? We all know that you would never intentionally hurt Luffy.” You finished talking before removing your hand away from his mouth as he looked at you again, but this time he showed you a sad face. He really does regret what he did. 

“I-I know, but Nami slapped me. She actually thought I would turn my back to them. I feel so bad, I want to take back everything I did and said. I just feel so-” His voice choked up, looking away from you as he bit his lip. Sanji was crying. “So guilty and weak.” His last words hit you like a train, you haven’t seen him cry before and your heart swelled with pain. You don’t like seeing him so hurt or cry.

Again, without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. A tear rolled down your eye, crying with him. The pain and guilt he must be going through right now made you want to protect him and the rest of the crew from any kind of harm. You stroked his messy hair, calming him down as he clinged to your shirt like a little kid who had gotten a small paper cut. “There, there… Don’t cry, Sanji dear. I’m here. You’re not a horrible person, okay?” You whispered as your chin rested on top of his head as he hugged you tighter, crying into your shirt.

“I’m sorry for causing everyone harm. I was- I was trapped with that old man and those so-called brothers. They threatened me so many times by saying they will kill people who are important to me and blow my hands away. I felt horrible that I said those words to Luffy and Nami. I didn’t mean them at all, I swear. I almost made a mistake by marrying someone for political reasons and not because I truly loved them.” He cried out loudly, his tears running down his face and staining your shirt. 

Your heart broke into millions of pieces as you held him tighter, probably squeezing the air out of him. You planted kisses on top of his head, reassuring him that he will be safe now, and nothing bad will happen to him ever again. Tears fell down your eyes as well, feeling sympathy towards him as you tried your best to understand how he felt right now in the moment. “It’s okay, Sanji. You had very good reasons, that only proves that you were thinking about us before thinking of yourself. You’re a great guy, I’m sure you’ll find the love of your life out there, so please forget about that. You’re safe now, with us, with your friends.”

In the process of comforting him, your anger rose inside of you, wishing hell upon everyone who harmed Sanji and your crew. Your breathing picked up as you grabbed his cheeks and pulled his head up to make him look at you, your thumbs clearing his tears. “Sanji, dear. I’ll make sure to protect you and the crew. I will do anything in my power to kill all those assholes who made you all feel pain. I swear on my life.” His eyes widened as he tried to not cry again.

“Don’t swear on your life. Everything passed now, we’re all okay now. I’ll be okay.” He leaned into your touch on his cheeks as he held you closer to him. “After a few naps, I will forget all that happened to us. It won’t haunt us again.” Sanji whispered, closing his eyes as he enjoyed your hands on his cheeks, they were warm and tender. You sighed, your gaze falling softly as you saw him enjoying your comfort. 

“Okay, but still. I won’t let this go. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you all safe.” You whispered softly, a small smile creeping up your lips as you stared at him warmly. “Let’s get your wrist wrapped up and you can go to sleep, okay? I’ll clean up the mess and get everyone to sleep in their rooms.” He opened his eyes and looked at you, his eyes were glistening and red from crying so much. You wouldn’t trade this moment between you two for nothing, you knew right there and then that it’ll be your official job to make sure they’re all mentally and physically okay. 

Sanji gulped and looked away from you, “You’re being too kind to me. I should be a man here and help you out.” He chuckled softly as you followed his lead. 

“No, just for right now… Just for tonight, let me take care of you, is that fine?” You asked him as he looked back at you, his stare sent your heart racing. He looked at you so gratefully and tenderly as your heart melted with warmth. 

He didn’t respond at all, he just kept staring at your eyes with a smile. The warmth from his gaze sent your stomach doing flips, you liked this side of him. “Sanij… I should really bandage your wrist now.” Clearing your throat, you went back to his wrist, placing it on the counter as you grabbed the bandages and began wrapping his wrists gently. 

Once you were done, you put the things back into the first aid box, closing it when suddenly Sanji pulled you into a back hug, his face nuzzled in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry, but please let me hug you… You’re an angel, y’know that, right?” He whispered against your neck, his arms tightening around your waist, sending a shiver down your spine. A small blush crept up your cheeks as he held you so close.

“I’m not an angel, Sanji. I don’t mind your hugs.” You whispered back, looking down at the counter as he breathed gently against your neck. The atmosphere around you two seemed warm and sweet, you wanted to hug him, but you knew yourself, you would start pampering him and treating him like a lover would. 

The biggest secret you ever kept from the crew is that you started falling in love with Sanji, you didn’t know when, but all you remember is that Sanji showed you his real self. Not his weird perverted self, but the most intimate parts of his life. His eyes shine whenever he talks about the all blue, or whenever you help him out in the kitchen, he gets so excited to teach you new recipes. His interests are rather adorable and you find yourself wanting to learn more about him over time.

“Sanji… Go rest up. You need it.” A small whisper left your lips as he groaned in protest. 

“I’m sorry… I can’t help myself after you comforted me this way.” He whispered as well. “I remembered something, the girl I was going to marry… she sympathized with me like this, but she wasn’t like you. You’re assertive and more- demanding. I just- I apologize if I’m comparing you two” Sanji let out a small grunt, probably regretting what he said.

Something in you felt angry again and almost snapped at him, “Don’t… Just- Stay like this, don’t think about anything or that girl who caused you harm as well. She’s Big Mom’s daughter, I will hate her too for life.” The last sentence left your lips as you shut your mouth and slapped a hand over your lips, realizing what you just said. 

You heard Sanji laugh against your neck, squeezing you softly. “Alright, I get it.” He responded, “You’re gonna fight her too, huh? Two beautiful women fighting over me? That sounds nice.” You became angry again and twisted your body to look straight at him, grabbing his tie and pulling him down towards you.

“Don’t talk about that bitch, I hate her. Understand?” His face was shocked when you did that suddenly. “I’m just protecting my crew mate from harm.” A low grumble left your mouth as he stared at you with wide eyes.

Sanji visibly gulped nervously as he nodded, biting his lip as you pulled him closer to you, “Sanji… I really do care about you and want to keep you safe from here on out. Can I do that?” You asked him, your gaze traveling down to look at his lips as he started blushing. Your head was wrapped around him, but you didn’t want to tell him that you had feelings for him at all.

“S-Sure… I don’t- I don’t mind.” He mumbled, his hands went back to your waist, holding you closer again. The air around you both became stronger and thicker with anticipation. Silence came over you again as your gazes kept wandering around in each other's faces. Your grip tightened around his tie, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. “We… We should clean up.” He said softly, licking his lips.

You didn’t respond at all, not wanting to break this moment between the two of you. All these thoughts that ran through your mind made you wonder what would happen if you really did kiss him right here and then. Would he return the kiss back to you or not? Will he regret it? Does he only think of you as a friend and crew mate only? Is it too soon? You hadn’t moved from the spot at all and neither had him. 

The urge to kiss him was too strong, the urge in general to just confess your feelings to him was unbearable in this moment. “Sanji, go rest up… Uhm- I’ll go now.” You told him, letting him go easily and grabbed the first aid kit, going back to the infirmary to put it away, but he grabbed your arm and pulled you into him again. 

“I don’t know if I’m going crazy or not, but… May I kiss you? If you let me of course.” He was holding you so close to him, his breath fanning near your face as you tried your best to resist kissing him without saying anything. He’s too good to be true. A simple nod came out of you as he sighed, “I need to hear your words, not just a nod. Please.” He begged you, gripping your waist with one hand as the right one came up to caress your cheek, his fingers sliding into your hair as he looked at you with- adoration?

“Yes, please… Just kiss me, Sanji.” Without warning, you leaned in to kiss his lips, wanting to feel his lips on yours now. The second you pressed a kiss to his lips, he held you so close, grabbing the first aid kit and throwing it to the counter, bringing you closer to his body as he kissed you passionately. In that moment, nothing else mattered besides your lips on his, kissing him desperately and filling the kiss with so much love and adoration.

#writing #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #one piece #oneshot #sanji #after whole cake island #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji #strawhats #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji oneshot #comforting sanji #sanji needs a hug #protect sanji #one piece oneshots #one piece fanfiction #fanfiction #sanji headcanons #one piece headcanons

[ponderingmoonlight]

Touch her and you'll burn

Pairing: boyfriend!Gojo x fem!reader; Toji x reader (kinda?)

Word Count: 2,8k

Synopsis: When it comes to Satoru Gojo, you are his true weakness - after all, you've been his girlfriend for years. Toji doesn't miss that either and takes you prisoner without further ado in order to get at the white-haired man.

Warnings: violence, death, tortue, mentions of sa, hurt, language

„What a cute little thing you are. Too bad you chose the wrong guy as your fuck buddy. How did you two end up anyway? I bet it’s because he’s tall and his special appearance, you women all tick the same way. Whatever, let’s see how I will kill you today, sweetie. And maybe we can have some fun before, what do you think, huh?”

“Rot in hell, fucking asshole.”

You spit directly into the way too close face of none other than Toji Fushiguro. The man that broke into your apartment, drugged and hauled you into this dark and dirty room that is only lit by one small lightbulb. Your hands are chained to the ceiling, you’ve been kneeling on the floor for what feels like an eternity now. Not the best starting point to be honest.

“I love my women feisty, little bitch. Listen up.”

His rough hand yanks on your chin so harshly that you can’t help but stare straight into his cold eyes which are only inches away from yours. Sweat drips from your forehead against your already bleeding nose, your body slowly but surely begins to tremble from the cold and exhaustion.

“There are exactly two options for you. One: That fucker appears and you both die while trying to save your cute ass. Two: He’ll let you rot in here and I’ll kill you all alone. If I were you, I’d be nicer to the man who’s been taking such good care of me for the last hours and who’s responsible for my death.”

“My parents taught me not to talk to strangers, especially the stinky and homeless ones. Save your breath”, you hiss back.

His palm crushes against your soft cheek without any mercy. Dizziness consumes you instantly, your lifeless head falls to the side while blood squirts out of your nose again. Fuck, that hurt pretty bad. But still a quiet laughter escapes your lips. Does he really think he can crush your will with a few punches? Pathetic. You may not be a jujutsu sorcerer, but you’re damn though. It’s not the first time that you have to deal with assholes like him because of your precious boyfriend Satoru Gojo. He definitely owns you a shopping tour after that.

“What are you laughing about, brat?”

“Just thinking about how Satoru will kick your ass later”, you bark through gritted teeth.

“First he has to find me. I’m a non-jujutsu sorcerer, just like you. So he can’t detect me by my curse power either. Your mobile phone and your pathetic GPS necklace are in your apartment, Gojo didn’t protect you with his powers. Hurts huh? Apparently the other girl's more important to him. Treats you pretty badly, don’t you think?”

You don’t like to admit it, but his words make your heart ache for a brief moment. Deep down, you know that it was his job to protect her, that he cares about you the most even though you haven’t seen him in days now. Would he even risk her life to save yours? He told you over and over that you are his priority, his everything. But…you don’t know.

Will Satoru come at all?

You sink into your chains and stare at the man and his mischievous grin in front of you. It doesn’t matter if Satoru searches for you or finds you. But you won’t let Toji bring you to your knees so easily.

His gaze wanders through the room while he casually strides around. He needs to stay focused. Gojo is probably the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of his lifetime. Kidnapping his girlfriend to weaken him and divert his attention from Riko is a smart move, but risky if Toji isn’t careful. And then there’s the fact that (y/n) is a pain in the ass herself.

“Where ya lookin’? I’m the view, asshole.”

“No wonder a slut like you is the girlfriend of someone like that Gojo guy. I’ll shut up your pretty little mouth soon enough.”

“Did you just say I’m pretty?”

Your maniac grin and disrespect catches Toji off guard. Of course he knew you would be a handful, but he’s a well-known assassin. Damn, he could kill you in a heartbeat if he wanted to, are you too dumb to see that? Is your trust in your stupid boyfriend really this big? Maybe he should in fact kill you instantly.

“I’d love to wring your throat right away, but before that I’ll show you where your place is.”

All color drains from your face in an instant, cheeky grin gone in the wind. Fuck, this asshole is about to unbuckle his belt. Your throat is tight, it’s like you’ve forgotten how to breathe…Will he really? You shake your head in disbelief, limbs fighting desperately against the merciless force of the chains around your bloody wrists. No, you can’t let this happen. You would rather die than allow this man to touch you with his disgusting hands.

“Cat got your tongue, huh? What’s up, (y/n)? Don’t worry, I’ll show you what you’ve missed before you die.”

Toji wraps his arm around your waist and presses his muscular body against yours. The urge to puke into his face becomes unbearable as well as your impatience. Where the fuck is Satoru? You close your eyes in a desperate attempt to calm your thoughts and breathing. Even a man like him wouldn’t dare to assault you, not the girlfriend of Gojo Satoru. But since he’s not here at the moment, you’ll just have to take care of that situation yourself.

When you open your eyes again, there’s not a spark of humor left in them – pure determination and rage draw your face. With all the strength you are able to gather in your poor condition you put your head in your neck and yank it forward as hard as possible against his nose. You ignore the throbbing pain that seems to radiate from your forehead all over your body and the nausea that suddenly overcomes you. This is not over. Bracing your body against the chains, you push yourself off the ground and kick his chest hard with both legs. His huge frame stumbles backwards while his loud groan fills the room.

You breathe heavy, sight almost completely obscure by the waterfall of blood that streams down your head. With a satisfaction – filled grin you notice his bleeding nose. Serves him right, stupid asshole. He just shouldn’t have messed with you. After all, just because you are a non-jujutsu sorcerer doesn’t mean you’re not good at defending yourself. Who does this guy think he even is anyway?

Fuck, Toji rushes towards you with quick steps, the muscles under his tight shirt are dangerously tense. Not good. But even worse is that all you can do is stare at him through your tired lids and let him approach you. Damn, he is fucking furious.

“That blood really suits you, brings out your icy-murderer eyes, y’know. Man, you’d be so fucking hot if you weren’t a stone cold asshole. Could get yourself a nice girl.”

At this point, your words aren’t more than an uncovered fading whisper anymore. You are just so fucking tired of hanging in this room and fighting a hopeless battle. At least you die in style.

“Nice show, slut. But that’s it for you now. I hope you realize that I could have just dodged your pathetic punches. Just like that”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

With a swift motion of his arm, he grips your wrist and twists it. You see stars, bones audible shattering in your body. All color that is left in your face drains instantly, a cry filled with ache reverberates around the room and rings back in your ears. You feel like you’re going to lose consciousness at any moment. No, stay awake, bark back, show him that you don’t care.

But you can’t.

His right hand clenches into a fist. As if in slow motion, you watch it move towards your face. This is gonna hurt like hell, maybe you should close your eyes and pretend none of this is happening. You at the beach with Satoru, his delicious body exposed to the sun and your merciless eyes, dipping his face into the water over and over again until he begs you to stop. Yeah, that would be nice. Satoru…You love him so much that it hurts sometimes, some say you two are obsessed with each other. He wears you on his hands, you’re the only one who can match his sense of humor and has the ability to put up with his lifestyle. He would never allow that any harm touches your delicate skin, that you get involved into his work as a jujutsu sorcerer. But today it seems like he can’t save you. At least you can say you fought back as much as you could.

“Touch her and you’ll burn.”

Your eyes snap open immediately. There he stands, your boyfriend, your knight in shining armor with his sunglasses casually covering his bright blue orbs.

“What are you doing, (y/n)?”, he questions ironically while slowly approaching the both of you.

“I’m just out here being cute, y’know”, you mumble with a small smirk.

Satoru gives you a loving smile. At that moment you just know that everything is going to be okay, that he will kill Toji for tormenting you and that you’ll meet again in the sheets this evening.

“Took you quite a while to get here”, Toji comments dryly and turns away from you.

The moment his big frame moves away a wave of relief washes over you. If Satoru had come just a second later Toji might have filleted you and you are very aware of that. You are no longer interesting for Toji, after all you served your purpose as decoy.

With a swift motion, your boyfriend frees your hands from the chains that have already cut deep into your tender flesh. Your knees meet the hard concrete floor in an instant, your body is too weak to stand up on its own.

“Come on (y/n), get yourself together and walk out of that room. Suguru will meet up with you. This is about to get pretty ugly.”

The air is filled with thick tension as both men stand still and just look at each other. He’s right. You have to get up, get out of this fucking room, find Suguru. If you stay here you are only an obstacle to Satoru.

“Your girlfriend is quite a pain in the ass. Well, at least she’s hot, I see where you’re coming from.”

“Beat his ass a few times more for me”, you breathe out.

You can do this. With all the strength you have left in your body, you lift your aching limbs off the ground and stumble to the door. Satoru positions himself in front of you, alert in chase Toji wants to attack you.

“Hit me up later, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for saving me. Even if it’s technically your fault I was trapped here.”

“How rude!”

With one last glance at you, he closes the door by one rapid motion of his arm.

You can’t help but let out a sign of relief. Fuck, this was a very close call – too close for your liking. Again your body lets you down and sinks onto the dirty ground in an instant. Your limbs are trembling, your mind goes numb. If you stay awake a little longer, you are able to find Suguru and get out of here…

“(y/n)?”

You would recognize his voice everywhere. How much you’d like to call out his name now so that he can find you and get you away from here, but the corners of your saggy mouth don’t move an inch. The ability to speak seems to be failing you completely at this point.

“(y/n)!”

Are you dying? You’re not sure. But your thoughts completely drift away until they’re utterly still. Finally rest, finally no more pain, finally-

“There you are (y/n). Stay awake okay? Let’s meet up with Shoko.”

The fear in Sugurus voice is unmistakable. His arms gently wrap themselves around your knees and back before lifting you up with ease.

“I hope you drove him insane with your talking”, Suguru gently whispers while sprinting down dark hallways.

“You bet I did.” ______________________________________________________________

God, you feel terrible. The second your thoughts begin to race again your whole body seems to be on fire. Your opened eyes get greeted by harsh lights.

“Can someone turn this the fuck off”, you mumble.

“Oh, there you are (y/n). Took you quite a while to get back to us.”

You recognize this voice. It’s Shoko, you’re with Shoko. That can only mean that Suguru brought you here. You must have passed out shortly after he found you. Your mind is clouded by faded memories and pain. What happened last? You were kidnapped and tortured by Toji Fushiguro, Satoru…Satoru was there, he saved you. After that, Suguru got you to safety.

“Where are they?”

Shoko sits next to you, a cigarette hanging from her mouth.

“This thing has gotten pretty ugly, (y/n)…But you’d better rest a little. Your boyfriend should explain this to you himself.”

“Are they fine?”

Your eyes are widened in horror. That look of worry on Shoko’s face is so unfamiliar to you that it makes your guts twist in thick fear. If something happened to Suguru because of you…Could Satoru defeat Toji all by himself? He is the strongest, right? Surely he had no problem with killing a basic non jujutsu sorcerer.

“Look who’s awake.”

Suguru’s figure is so tall that he dims the lights that irritated you before. He looks like he’s wearing a halo – how suiting.

“Suguru, you’re alright. Please tell me you’re okay”, you mumble, mouth still not able to process your battling thoughts. 

“I’m fine again. Don’t worry.” There it is, his usual bright smile. But something’s different. You can tell that the corners of his mouth don’t pull up as far as usual, that he looks overall…defeated.

“What…What happened? Where is Satoru?”

You can hear your own voice trembling in anticipation. Fuck, he would have been by your side the whole time if everything was alright. Your last encounter plays like a movie in your head. Did Toji?...This can’t be. It’s simply not possible.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting!”

The sight next to Suguru makes you nauseous. Satoru’s uniform is completely torn and blood soaked, you can detect a small wound on his forehead, his white hair discolored in crimson. And god his eyes…He looks possessed. No, that can’t be your boyfriend. You hardly recognize him.

“Satoru, is that you?”

“The one and only! I did it (y/n). I killed that man!”

He roughly grabs your upper arms and leans over you. The weight of his huge frame against your throbbing skin takes your breath away. A whimper of agony escapes your lips while you squint and screw up your face.

“Back off, Satoru, you’re hurting her!”, Shoko yelps in an desperate attempt to free you from his grip.

“Look at me, (y/n)! I finally mastered reverse cursed technique and killed Toji for what he did to you. Anami was murdered as well as basically everyone else, but I did this for you! We both survived!”

The maniac look in his eyes sends shivers down your spine. What has gotten into him?

“Satoru, are you on drugs? Let go off me!”, you cry out.

“I think we should get going now. See you, (y/n)”, Suguru interrupts and yanks Satoru away from you.

“B-But…I need answers! Get your ass back here! What’s the matter with you two!?”

“Don’t ask questions I don’t have the answer to (y/n).”

With one last look both men leave you alone with Shoko. What just happened? The girl…she’s dead? So Toji killed her after all. And the bruises on Satoru…Fuck, maybe that man was stronger than you thought. But he’s also dead, right? Your head begins to spin with all the scenarios that cloud your mind. You need answers, you need to talk to Satoru, you need to-

“You need to rest, (y/n). This one will blow you away.”

Her fingers snap against the syringe in her hand. Your eyes widen in shock, heartbeat picking up in an instant. No, you can’t sleep now, you need to talk to Satoru, he needs to explain what happened to him, why he looks so torn, why Suguru’s eyes were so empty.

“Wait Shoko, I-I need to t-talk t-to…”

A sharp stab in your upper arm. Then darkness. Nothing but darkness.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #satoru gojo #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n

[mrsnancywheeler]

silver springs

finnick odair x gn!reader

2k words

masterlist

summary: finnick's cycle of self destruction stops for no one, even if it tears the two of you apart, but you refuse to fade into the past.

warnings: angst, lots of it, self destructive behavior, mentions of trafficking, allusions to consensual smut, reader values their virginity, arguments, break ups, trauma, unhealthy relationship dynamics, unhappy ending, but could be interpreted as hopeful if you want it to be, unedited, no use of y/n

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Finnick knows he should just fall asleep, let himself rest and turn his brain off from overthinking, but he can't. You deserve better, so much better than the broken boy from District 4 who will forever be playing his role in the puppet show. Where you've fought the demons off with compassion for each person you've come across, it shames him how easily he can fall into the facade of the egotistical Capitol darling. Eventually his outlook will consume the joy you've harvested to forcefully in the depths of your heart and he knows not a minute will pass that he can look at himself in the mirror knowing he did that to you. So he has to end it, to let you be free for a much happier life, at least that's what he tells himself as he prepares for you to wake.

You're so beautiful in the moonlight that glows on your sleeping face and he's even more enthralled when the sun begins to rise and it's like you're an angel in the colors. He's not sure when he let a few tears shed thinking about how when you wake up it'll be the last time he sees you like this, but it's for the best. When you do hazily wake up, blankets falling off your bare body as you sit up, all your sleepy smiles make his heart clench even more, but his brain more certain.

“Good morning." You mumble out, leaning in for a kiss which he scoots away from and your incoherent brain snaps to attention. No matter how long it's been since you've been in the arena, you doubt that instinct will ever go away, the need to be constantly on edge if something seems slightly off, and he is. Finnick is usually the type to be just returning from a swim with some fish he caught in the morning or arms wrapped around you. “What's wrong?" You can feel a defense mechanism settling in with the numbness of your voice, had you really finally had the courage to let someone have your body only for them to pull away from your love the very next morning? What a cruel master the universe seemed to be no matter what cards you played.

Finnick's eyes were glossy and he rubbed his face as he sniffled, forcing the words out of his reluctant throat, “I don't think we should see each other anymore." Before the words have even finished tumbling out of his mouth you've pulled the blanket back up to cover your exposed chest. How could you be so cautious of something only for it to come from the person you least expected, apparently you weren't cautious enough.

“Oh." It's humiliating, if you could just disappear into the air you would give anything to do so. You can't cry, it would only further that humiliation, so you robotically move to the side of the bed to grab the panties that had been so lazily thrown off by him the night before. “Congrats on the score, Finnick, hopefully I'm worth a good amount of points." Your voice can't be allowed to crack or shake, but it's fighting against your willpower.

“It's not like that." Finnick quickly says, observing you, and he'll never say it, but he's scared. He doesn't want you to hate him, to break your heart, he just wants you to be free of his chains.

You scoff and have to force yourself to stand without the protection of the blanket so you can find the rest of your strewn about clothes. “I’m sure that's what you tell all of them.” All of us, he's always been a rumored playboy, but with what the Capitol did to him that was what you'd placed it on. Not that he played people, but that he was unfairly used, now you reasoned, two things could be true at once. Him having past partners had never bothered you when he began talking to you, but now you wondered how he left them. You glance back for less then a second when you see he's buried his head in hands, not answering.

He knows this isn't true, that he's doing this because he cares too much to let his darkness eat you alive. Maybe he'll even have to say that to you, so he won't have to live with the additional weight of your resentment.

“I just-" Your throat breaks on a sob you're holding back, “I know it's not important to everyone, but it was important to me, Finnick. I gave you something that I wasn't ready to give anyone else because I thought…” You sighed, "It doesn't matter what I thought, but it's so fucked that you took that away when you knew.” A stray tear has forced its way through which you're wiping away as soon as you can. Your pants are in a pile at the end of the bed which you quickly grab.

“I'm sorry." His voice isn't hiding the tears as he looks up from his hands, he's genuine and you can tell as much from his voice, but it doesn't stop the internal berating of being so stupid to finally share that intimate part of yourself when he would leave you hours later. “I didn't plan it like that, honey, I didn't."

“Please, don't call me that." He nods his head in retreat after your request that was meant to be more forceful, preferably he'd never speak to you again.

“You deserve better, so much better." You agree, the bare minimum would be a day before he broke the news not hours after you'd slept with him. “Better than me, I need you to have better.” He feels like a child, knees pulled up to his chest as he gives you up so you'll be far away from his destruction, but you feel more like a toy he's gotten bored of playing with. Like a hurricane it hits you that he means being with you, a sentiment he’s murmured many times in your relationship even if you insisted otherwise at each utterance. Yet you can no longer find it in you to assure him otherwise, no matter how much you disagree.

“Oh my god, this is the ‘woe is me, I'm Finnick Odair, so unlovable’ act again!” You could tear your hair out, "I could love you, Finnick! That's who could and I'm so sick of this push and pull thing you play at. But we are all dealing with things inside and you refuse to be, not even helped, but at least cared for!”

He's gotten up from the bed, shaking his head with as much intent as he can muster, "If you loved me it would kill you.”

"Says who?” You no longer care about whether or not you're keeping composure or yelling, you've spent every moment you can trying to assure him and within the hours you slept he decided to tear it all apart. "Oh right, just you! You and your endless piles of self doubt, I'm not asking for that to go away, but you could at least be open to hearing others out."

“It's for you, honey, I couldn't live with myself if I put you through that."

Any movements you were making stop as you stare at him, he's so honest, so eager, and you radiate an anger he despises himself for making, but wants to catch the last few sparks of before he leaves forever. “You are so selfish. Have you ever even considered the fact that I would suffer more without you, then with you, or were you too busy trying to punish yourself for not spending every moment of your life in a pile of guilt?”

He doesn't answer and you know it's a no. Part of you says it's wrong to tell a man who's always eating himself up from the inside that he's selfish, but you feel like you're on autopilot.

"I'm a person, Finnick! Everyone you've ever dated is. You do not get to play house for a year to live in a fantasy and then push us away whenever your thoughts are too much, that's why it doesn't work, you won't let it. And everyone who puts in the effort to love you, to care about you, has it all swept away when you're ready to wallow again. That way when you briefly decide it's over you can do it all over again.” You're pulling on the pants before you can look around for the shirt in some hidden spot.

Finnick feels like he's running cold, part of him knows you're right that his cycle is neverending, but you can understand, he tells himself. Even if you're a fellow victor, no one can help him, he's resigned himself to it and you're too light of a bubble to let you pop. So he has to live in denial, that he has to protect you from himself even if that is really what's attacking you now, “I care and I can't do this to you. You don't understand, I'm like a whirlpool waiting to suck everything in with me."

“You have." You find the shirt and button it up with fumbling fingers, blood pulsating in anger, sadness, and the want to beg him to change his mind and let you sit with forever. But you know you can't subject yourself to his cyclone of self-destruction any longer, not when you have your own struggles to deal with. The things you couldn't tell him about because of the constant pressure to be the light in his bleak outlook of the world, even when you were so tempted whenever it seemed like he was in his true state. The Finnick that was sweet and giving, or maybe you were an idealist wishing for a man that he could truly never be. “I won't fade into obscurity over you.” Your voice has become considerably softer and you gaze at his shaking body.

"What?” He asks, he knows that you won't understand why he has to do what he's convinced himself he must, but that doesn't prevent him from wanting to take it all back, embrace you, and promise to do better even if he knows he won't.

"I'm a victor too, Finnick. Every party, I'll be there, when you have to watch required programs on the television, I'll be there. I won't take a step back just because I'm hurt, we're all wounded dogs, Finnick, some of us just handle it better and I won't quiet myself just because it might remind you of another person you've pushed behind.”

“I'm not asking you too."

“No, but it's what you're used to. I'm not just someone else from home, you will always hear my voice, see my face, and I need you to know that. I want you to get better, Finnick, because I care about you more than you can even fathom, but I will be a hitch from what you're used to. You deserve to know that, I'm sorry if that makes it more difficult for you or maybe it's what you need. A wake-up call that whatever you're doing is what's actually hurting people not whatever fucked up fantasy it is you're listening to in your head.”

Finnick wanted you to know how much you cared, but said nothing as he pushed down more tears when you left, never to be in his room again. The mornings spent in your comfort are officially gone. You'd been right of course, he couldn't wallow and move on because you were everywhere. Your laugh in his ears at every party, your saccharine voice on the screen, your presence around every turn. Maybe you'd even been right when you insinuated this was what he was missing, he couldn't forget about you long enough to fall into his routine, especially not when the echoes that once told him he had to let you go sang a different tune. How destructive he was for letting the one person who could even attempt to anchor his tortured soul go.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

Thank you for reading, as always feedback, comments, likes, reblogs, is all super appreciated! I was going to write another chapter of the lakes but I had this idea in my brain presenting so here it is. 💋

#finnick odair x reader #finnick odair #finnick odair x y/n #finnick odair angst #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader angst #finnick odair fanfic #finnick fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick imagine #finnick x you #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair x reader fluff #thg #finnick odair imagine #hunger games finnick #thg finnick

[tw1l1te]

The Final Promise₊˚✩⊹

Chapter 2

Linked Universe x reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, soft and domestic, suggestive themes

Authors note: I was too excited to not post this lmao :3c

Time seemed to stop, and you didn’t mean by the Old Man.

Time literally seemed to halt. You stared at Rusl, trying to find any signs of lying or amusement in his eyes, as if this was some joke. A cruel, twisted joke.

“W-what?” you asked, the only word you could muster. You could feel your fingers shake on the table. You didn’t want to believe what Rusl said, or did you? You weren’t sure. 

You weren’t sure if you’d accepted the fact on whether or not you were coming home ever again, but you didn’t think it would happen now, or so soon. Maybe Hylia wanted to see how your head would react. A twisted game for her, like it always is.

“Are you sure that’s what she said? Maybe she meant something else-"I know what she said. I may be old, but I saw what she wrote clear as day. There’s another mirror.”

Before anyone could say anything else, you stormed out of the cottage, the door squeaking on it hinges as you storm out.

“Y/n! Wait!!” Hyrule yells after you.

Before you could stop yourself to calm down, you break into a spring, heading straight towards the forest. You needed to run. Run. RUN.

This couldn’t be happening. You researched and combed through Hyrule Castle’s archives to find any sliver of hope that you’d be able to come home. Even if it said it was impossible, you never found anything to begin with. You had no answers.

You don't know when you stopped running, you panted as you sat up against a tree, silent tears running down your cheeks and down your neck. Breathing was so difficult, you began hiccuping and hyperventilating, gripping onto your hair for any kind of grounding back into reality. That’s when you felt something wet on your forehead.

Looking up, you were relieved for it to just be Wolfie, or Twilight. 

“Twilight you shouldn’t have followed me.” you whispered into his fur.

Twilight turned back into his Hylian form, your face still in his pelt. 

“I needed to make sure you were okay. Can’t leave you alone, especially in Faron Woods. Who knows what’s still out here,” he murmured into your hair, combing through your sweaty locks. He kissed the top of your forehead, hesitating before pulling back.

“It’s gonna be okay, Y/n. I promise. We’ll be with you, every step of the way, ok? We’re gonna find you a way to go home. Whether it be this lead or if we find something else.”

You sighed. Twilight was always the more outwardly calm person in the chain, alongside Time and Warriors. 

“Twilight that’s the thing… I’m not even sure if I want to go home. It’s probably been years back home, hell I don’t even know if I have my apartment or my friends or… But its not like I don’t want you, y’know? I’ve been dreaming of going home since I first came here, I’d been up for nights at a time just researching in the underground library archives. I-I don’t know what to do or think, Twi.” you rambled, voice breaking at the end, letting more tears slip out.

“Although I don’t know exactly what you’re feelin’, I’m here for you, whatever it is that happens. We’re all here for you.”

He takes a breath.

“Speaking of the others, we should head back to the village, the others are probably worried sick about you.”

You nodded without a word, getting up and making back to Ordon Village together, Twilight wrapping his pelt around your shoulders. It smelled like him, you thought. 

~

Twilight never gives anyone his pelt, its the one thing he sees as his. So why’d he give it to you? He has no idea. Instinct, he thinks. It’s cold, you needed it more than him. He looks down at you, your pink cheeks and wet lashes making you look more fragile and doll-like. Your cute nose sniffing every few seconds, breathing in the cold air. Your ears were so small, littered with at least 3 or 4 piercings, one of which was a triforce. 

Twilight smiles slightly. He always liked the little pieces of “memorabilia” you had of them. It was incredibly strange and unsettling when they first found out, but he sees it more as like your belonging to them admiration of them.

Twilight’s train of thought stopped for a moment.

Where the hell did that thought come from?

Before he could ruminate on his psyche, he’s shaken out of his thoughts by Wind yelling “Oh thank fucking Hylia!”

~

You came back into Twilight’s treehouse, heading toward the bathroom to take a warm bath. You noticed that the tub was already filled, hot steam coming off the surface of the water. You’d have to thank whoever drew you the bath.

Stripping your clothes, you set them in a pile near the door. You step into the tub, wincing slightly at the hot water making contact with your skin. It was a bit too hot for you, but you knew the water will cool off fast enough, so you powered through it.

You sighed. This was nice. Even with the chaotic stream of thoughts coursing through your head, the bath seemed to dull it, even for just a moment. You grab your hair and start combing through it, no doubt getting knots from running through the woods earlier. You look at the necklace Four made for you a few months ago. It was to commemorate a year being with the Chain, which in retrospect should’ve made you sad, but it made you extremely happy and grateful for everyone in the group

You knew it was much easier to come across rarer metals and jewels here than back home, but you were still just as in shock when you realized what it was made of. You remember sobbing from joy when you received it, as you never held something so expensive and meaningful in your entire life.

The necklace was made of metal sourced from Death Mountain but you had no clue what the gem in the triangle shaped cavity was. It looked like emerald, but the boys said it wasn’t that, and that they won't tell you. They were so petty at times.

You were startled out of your thoughts when there was a knock at the door.

“I brought you some fresh clothes, Dove.” Ah Sky, honestly you were a little relieved it wasn’t Legend or Wars, knowing they’d say something snarky or suggestive.

“Come in Sky.” 

You could hear the cogs turning in his head for a moment before he entered, red in the face. You almost laughed at what you were seeing.

Sky turned his head away from you and covered his eyes, just to spare you some dignity.

“I-uh gave you one of my older shirts since you don’t have any other clean ones and its thicker, so it’ll help keep you warm and it has-”

“Sky, for the love of god you’re making this more awkward than it has to be. You’re sweet for being so thoughtful, but we’re both adults Pumpkin.” you mused, chuckling a bit.

Sky finally made eye contact with you, but still avoided your eyes for the most part.

“Right. Um, well, I’ll just leave these on the chair then.”

Sky then stared at you. Not in a creepy way, just in admiration and awe. Luckily, the rest of your body was hidden under the bubbles of the soap in the water, so its not like he could see anything anyway.

He then walked up to you and sat down outside of the tub, still gazing at you.

“I was so worried about you earlier, Songbird. Are you alright now?” he asked, worry crossing his face.

You sighed. Ever the most thoughtful. Bringing your hands from under the water, you cup his cheeks looking right into his eyes.

“Don’t worry so much about me, Sky. I’m fine now. Twilight calmed me down a bit, but you know how shocking such information can be. I just need a bit to process, y’know? I’ll be fine though.”

You gave him a small smile, trying to read the thoughts behind his eyes. He just kept looking at you. You swear he looked at your lips a few times. Biting his lip, he asked “Can I wash your hair for you? No offense at all, I just wanted to offer because you never know when the next time we’ll get to be clean again.”

You nodded with a smile, sitting back against the porcelain tub, handing Sky the glass bottle of soap. As soon as he lathered his hands, he started massaging your scalp, a feeling you’ve missed so much. 

“Fuck, Sky, that feels so good.” you said, not realizing the tone or implication you said it in.

Sky’s breath hitched, but you didn’t catch it, too busy on the sensations on your scalp.

“Yeah?” he whispered, looking at your bare shoulders that were littered with scars from your journey with them, wishing he could wash them away. He felt his ears get hot from your soft sounds, happy that you felt so comfortable and wishing you’d make those sounds more often  domestic with him.

Suddenly the movement stops. Opening your eyes, you turn your head over your shoulder, almost jumping at how close his face is. Your gaze flickered to his lips, almost as if it was instinct.

“Sky… I-” “I’ll let you finish up.” And with that, he left, softly shutting the door behind him.

~

What the HELL is he thinking???

Sky gripped his hair, walking down the hallway, panting slightly.

He was so… close to you. He could smell the soap on your skin. He could see the different colors in your eyes. He felt strange. He knew he liked you… and not just as companions or friends… he wanted more. He felt happier, lighter since you came around. He genuinely laughed for the first time in ages.

It seemed like there was a spark of sorts between the two of you, but he didn’t want to assume or jump into anything… yet, at least. He needed a minute to calm down.

#yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #linked universe au #link x reader

[wangxianficfinder]

Fic Finder

March 5th

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1. I’m pretty sure the fic im looking for is a one shot, but it’s been so long I can’t remember: LXC brings WWX (who he’s been teaching musical cultivation) to LQR and is like “he’s never learned this song, watch” and plays something. Then gestures to WWX who plays it perfectly from memory. LXC gestures to him while looking at LQR like “see?” and LQR is impressed

FOUND! multitude Chapter 13: good teacher lan qiren by bunny093 (bamf/genius wwx, the lans are better are sect-ing here, lightly based on a lilo&stitch scene, not yunmeng jiang friendly)

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2. Hello! Looking for a specific fic, at some point wwx transmigrates or reincarnates into the modern world where he is a ceo (?) and was trained by a teacher his whole life about sword fighting etc, and then he eventually gets his memories back and invents a way (i believe it was a device) to dimension/time travel to get back home. @vulpeculatee

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3. Hi, I'm looking for a Wangxian fanfic, where Wei Wuxian is in the Lan sect and he grows mushrooms. I just know that mushrooms were an important part of the fanfic, there was a scene where the other sects followed the Lan disciples to see where they bought the mushrooms. Thanks.

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4. hello! i just finished rereading "switched" (wwx switched with xz) but its ending was wwx finding out that he's pregnant. i remember that there's a part two of that where he gave birth in modern world, and they even cut their own hair but i cant find it. does anybody know where can i find it? or maybe im talking about two different story? im not really sure. thankyouuuuuu!

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5. good day! for the enxt fic finder, do u guys know tha time travel fic where wwx came back during the lectures then he let himself fall from the cliff where lwj was there and told him to let go? thank u in advance!

FOUND!🔒 Without end by barisan (M, 69k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Suicide Attempt, Hurt/Comfort, Depressed WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm,   PTSD, Panic Attacks, Yunmeng Jiang bashing, Sentient Resentful energy, Medical inaccuracies)

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6. Making a deep dive into my AO3 history is an Exhausting prospect right now, so I must turn to the hive mind. Three fics I'm looking for rn.

A) Meng Yao is running an errand and finds his car beset by a swarm of bees! 🐝🐝🐝 Cue LXC to the rescue.

B) Wei Ying is out on a first date and it's going poorly. Lan Zhan overhears. Tea facts are relevant. 🍵

C) Post-canon case fic, where the case is a mysterious energy that some people can see/sense and some cannot. Can't remember whether WWX just happened to bump into LWJ+ducklings or if they were already hanging out, but the two of them figure their shit out whilst investigating. I think there was a garden involved. And energy-induced kissing (possibly even sex?). @linderel

6A)

FOUND! save the bees (ride a beekeeper) by Ariaste (T, 4k, LXC/JGY, modern, Fluff and Humor, Meet-Cute, Bees, Flirting)

6B)

FOUND!🔒 Heaven, Wait by sunflowersfield (T, 2k, wangxian, Modern, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Neurodiversity, Falling In Love, Getting Together, Happy Ending, First Dates, First Kiss, Hyperfixations, Strangers to Lovers, Meet-Cute, The bad date with the original character is brief and he never sees that guy again)

6C)

FOUND! Not What We May Be by brooklinegirl (E, 29k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Mutual Pining, Bedsharing, casefic, Hurt/Comfort, background Jingyi/Sizhui)

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7. Hi. Hope you are well.

I'm trying (and failing!) to find a WangXian fix I read years ago on Ao3.

From what I remember, Wei WuXian was a Captive of the Wen and kept in a high tower where is tortured and chained with a small window and Lan Zhan also gets captured and put in the same cell of Wei WuXian.

Lan Zhan is there when the Wen soldiers drag Wei WuXian away for torture and they bond. Later Lan Zhan finds out Wei WuXian is a Phoenix and the Wens want his tears. Wen Qing and Wen Ning are his only friends.

Wei WuXian helps Lan Zhan escape and Lan Zhan has to convince the cultivation world to save Wei WuXian but by the time they reach the Wens, they see that Wei WuXian lost control of the Phoenix and Lan Zhan calms him down amidst the fire.

I also remember the fic mentionimg that a Phoenix meant Goodluck.

Thsnk you in advance!

FOUND? a thousand hills, no birds in flight | 千山鳥飛絕 by defractum (nyargles) (E, 26k, WangXian, Mythology, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon adjacent setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort)

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8. thank u so much for all u do! i actually have two fics i’m searching for! i remember reading both in 2021 so i believe that narrows things down!

A) first one is canon divergence from qiongqi path, i remember that wwx almost dies but puts his consciousness into a paperman and his body is somewhat preserved by wen qing till they can find a way to heal him and then transfer his consciousness back but they pretend he died to the other sects (i remember they even go check his body) i remember the wen remnants go to lotus pier pretending to be related to ppl from yunmeg and jzx survives. the whole mess with mxy and the summoning array happens but it fucks it up a little since wwx isn’t actually dead and he becomes something like a spirit/ghost for a while and ends up meeting lwj by accident when he’s taming mxy back to lotus pier. they manage to heal his body and he transfers himself back in and they all live happily ever after.

B) the second one is a fic in a fic series of wangxian having more children and being very domestic that includes past lwj changing places with present lwj for a day and he basically spends the day with wwx, they go farming he helps with the kids, they see lsz for a time, unfortunately that’s all i can remember from it.

8A)

FOUND? 🔒 something like by silversshadow (T, 69k, wangxian, Major Character Death, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives AU, Temporary Character Death)

8B)

FOUND? These Two Most Powerful by stiltonbasket (G, 4k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, Married Life, Family Feels, Parenthood, Temporary Amnesia, Time Travel, it's amnesia but it feels like time travel to LWJ, wangxian have more babies, and they are the cutest buns, not your average amnesia fic? there's no drama here tbh, just soft husbands carrying on with fatherhood, And loving each other, Mild Angst, Happy Ending)

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9. Hello! I am looking for some help to find a fic. It's a story where Wei Wuxian becomes the ruler of afterlife essentially. All the characters who died before him are there but he has no memory of his past. The only way to get his memory was to go to earth and retrieve them(?). The last chapter I remember is MXY calling him, allowing him to return to the earthly realm.

Please and thank you 😊 @myblurryreality

Thank you for the suggestion but that is not it, unfortunately. The one I'm looking for starts out with Jiang Yanli and Jin Zixuan being in this after life city. They had to struggle for a bit because there death offerings(?) were delayed. Wen Qing was a doctor in the town and helped heal Jin Zixuan from an injury at one point. The reason everyone's offerings were delayed was because there was a new Ruler, who ended up being Wei Wuxian. He had absolutely no memory of anyone, but allowed Jiang Yanli to visit him. He would hear a song (Wangxian) played as a tribute(?) but didn't know who played it.

NOT FOUND!🔒 A Secret Never Shared by Vrishchika (T, 28k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, frankencanon, Pining, Soft LWJ, Deity WWX, BAMF WWX, Alternate Universe, LSZ is the best boy)

FOUND! A Celebration In White by Enigmatree (T, 20k, WIP, WangXian, XuanLi, Afterlife AU, Underworld, god AU, 13 years of Inquiry, Happy Ending)

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10. Help!

I lost a Twitter threadfic! I could have sworn I saved it, but either I accidentally deleted it or the author did. And they were about to update it too!

It was about WWX who, during the first Burial Mounds siege, was transformed into a rabbit, and now lives as an immortal bunny. Now it's modern times and he's been rescued by a reincarnated LWJ, who is about to leave for college (veterinary) and doesn't remember anything about his past life. WWX is wary of him at first (he thinks that LWJ was amongst those who led the siege), but he eventually warms up to him and manages to tell him the truth using a computer.

Please help me find this! @blueghost13

FOUND? Here's the link for the Twitter Thread And I just discovered that it got updated 2 days ago when I had expected no more, so thanks for making me check 🤗

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11. Hi! I've been searching this fic for so long and couldn't find it. As far as I can remember in this fic Wei Ying survives the siege and he goes away with Ayuan. He invents a silver core type of thing. some kind of mechanical/physical core. And later I think the jins capture him or something. Do you have any idea about this fic?

FOUND? 🔒❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

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12. Hi. I love your Fic Finder and Recs and your suggestions have kept me busy reading for almost 2 years now 😍

I was hoping you could help me find a fic I've recently read the summary off. Something about WY accidentally domming LZ Z somehow and turning him into a sub without realizing? And I think WQ pointed it out to him? I believe it was a modern setting, and the summary sounded very light-hearted and entertaining.

I'm not sure if that's enough info to go on, but thanks for your help in advance 🥰 @papperlapapp1

FOUND! And They Were Roommates! or The Accidental Domming of Lan Wangji by DizziDreams (E, 21k, wangxian, Dom WWX, Sub LWJ, inexperienced BDSM practices, un-/under- negotiated kink, horny climbing, horny cohabitation, horny on main except by main I mean at a party surrounded by innocent bystanders, Praise Kink, Masturbation, Bondage, Lingerie, Orgasm Delay/Denial, omg they were roommates, Modern, BDSM, debatably a bit of dom drop, Public Masturbation, Edging, Getting Together, WQ has to come in and straighten this shit out)

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13. I was reading a great fic and then Tumblr updated and ripped out from me when I was only in chapter two! Devastated. Its world building at its finest, you are not folks directly what's happened or happening. WWX is the proprietor of Yiling Garden, a cafe that offers sanctuary. Mo Xuanyu arrives in the first chapter seeking sanctuary from the Inquisition. Lan Wangji arrives, saying he's sanctuary and there for Mo Xuanyu, but WWX assumed he was inquisition at first. They have not seen each other for years. Clearly something happened to separate WWX from everyone he loves except Wen Ning, who works for the shop too, and had been raised from the dead. For unknown reasons, Wen Qing is elsewhere and happy. Wen Yuan is mentioned, but WWX doesn't know what happened to him. There are phones so it's a modern au. And... That's it. Tumblr died right after Lan Wangji asks WWX out for dinner. Help! Thank you VERY much! @lurkdot

FOUND? transmuter by WithLoweredVoices (Not rated, 113k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Magical Realism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending)

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14. Hi 😃 I need help to find a fic because I only remember a tiny bit! LWJ isn't wearing his forehead ribbon and LQR/Lan elders are trying to get him to wear a new one, the bit I really remember goes like this:

LQR: gives LWJ a new forehead ribbon LWJ: it's not the same 🥺🥺🥺

FOUND? A Future Family In A Broken Past by Hauntcats (T, 121k, wangxian, WWX & Wen Remnants, Jiang Family & WWX, WQ/MM, JYL/NHS, LXC/NMJ, Not Jiāng Family Friendly, Not Cultivation World Friendly, WWX Needs a Hug, Family Dynamics, What is a good family?, Fear of emotions does not excuse abuse, Not Jiang Clan Friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Time Travel fix-it, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, LXC needs a hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Not YZY Friendly)

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15. Hi! Hope you are well. I am desperately searching for a fic I read once but cannot find it anywhere. In this fic WWX survives the siege and leaves with A yuan. He and a yuan live in hiding. wwx also builds a golden core-more like a silver core as he invents a physical core that works the same as a golden core. I can't remember how it finishes but I think Jins capture him and A yuan seeks help of LWJ. Hopefully you can find this!!! Thank You!

FOUND? 🔒❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)

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16. Hi! This is for fic finder. Its cql post canon i think. WWX goes to some place near ocean and he resque a men who battling a ghost ship? I think he was a cultivator from a nearby sect. WWX then teach them a little bit before he continue his journey. He went to Jinlintai. In the road he met a woman who goes to the same destination as him to met her wife. They become a fast friend. Thats all i can remember. Thank you! @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

FOUND! Linger by the Door (I’ve Always Been Yours)by piecrust (T, 78k, wangxian, slow burn, canon compliant)

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17. Hi! I don't know if I'm doing this right bc I'm new to tumblr... I've seen your blog before though and it's so helpful! I have a fic finder request - I remember it was a harry potter au where wwx has been gone from lwj's life for 13 years. he came back (as an animagus?) as a black rabbit and lwj was a professor at hogwarts. lwj takes care of rabbit wwx and then jgy comes with aurors at the end of the fic to attack hogwarts and lwj fights him. When lwj is almost going to be killed, rabbit wwx turns back into a human and protects him. Thanks so much!

FOUND? an armful of warmth by Alaceron (G, 3k, wangxian, Harry Potter Setting) It has a sequel, too!

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18. I seem to have read a summary or a review of a wangxian fic and can't recall if it's from this blog so i am putting in a request for help in finding it so in that summary it was mentioned that wangxian had travelled to a village and met a lady on bank of the sea but she was actually a sea monster/creature don't exactly remember what and she consumes hearts of her victim and LWJ becomes her target but he distracts her by tell her his and WWX's story while WWX tries to save LWJ as the body of the victim comes to shore after a week or so don't remember much or more so I hope this suffices also it was most likely to be a multi chapter fic with less than 10 but more than 3 chapters and that it was probably on ao3 . Thank you so much for your work.

FOUND! The Eater of Hearts by ElDiablito_SF (T, 17k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, LWJ is Scheherezade, WWX and LQR speak to each other agenda, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian are very in love and very disgusting, Case Fic, Gratuitous kissage)

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19. Hi!

For the next fic finder can you help me with this ao3 fic, Modern Au where wwx gets kicked out of the Jiang family house so he has to stay (I think) in a shed close to his school, and also he has to take extra food from the school cafeteria and that’s how (I think) LQR finds him stealing after class

There was missing food so they also checked the cameras but wwx dodged them also NMJ in this AU is a cop and close to LXC

When they find out about wwx situation he’s taken to the lan house, eventual wangxian

And I don’t remember more

Thank you a lot for the help!🙇‍♀️❤️

FOUND? Where is home? By SpicyRamen_10969 (M, 80k, WIP, WangXian Modern AU, High School, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Coming Out, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Supportive LQR, Good Sibling LXC, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, JC Being an Asshole, Possible Smut?)

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20. There is this fanfic where Sizhuai(sp?) And Jingyi are night hunting with other Lan juniors. Nearly everyone dies, except him and Jingyi because out of desperation, Sizhuai uses demonic cultivation but he gets whipped a lot with the discipline whip because of it. Because of this Jingyi leaves the Lan sect. When he wakes up, Sizhuai is devastated. Cue angst, and Sizhuai eventually tracking Jingyi down and reconciliation. Unfortunately I can't remember this fanfic title and I would love to reread it. @andyousaidtruelovedidntexsist

FOUND? Give Me A Reason by useless_slytherclaw (M, 25k, ZhuiYi, LSZ & LWJ & WWX, Junior Quartet, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Friends to Lovers, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Mutual Pining, Minor WangXian, Minor JL/OYZZ, Aged-Up Character(s), Grief/Mourning, PTSD, Dreams and Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Rogue Cultivator LJY, Family Feels, Demisexual LJY, Injury Recovery, Love Confessions)

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#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic finder #wangxian fic search #the untamed #wangxianficfinder #long post

[broadwaybalogna]

A retelling of the end of Zuko and Azula’s Agni Kai because we were ROBBED [Zutara]

”Zuko!” Katara yells, but another blast of lighting is hit close to him, separating the two.

Zuko tries to focus on the fight occurring in front of him, but the pain in his chest is beyond anything of what he expected. It’s excruciating, who knew Azula’s bending could be this painful. He had encountered firebender after firebender when fighting, but Azula was beyond them. Or maybe this just hurt more because she was his sister.

Zuko groans and reaches his arm out, trying to get up and fight as much as possible. But everything hurts. His body feels frozen and he can feel his heartbeat cry.

”You don’t look so good Zuzu,” Azula yells, he’s not quite sure from where. His eyes keep on closing without his permission and his body keeps on aching with every breath he takes, but he knows that if he lets his consciousness go, he may never get it back. So while Katara fights Azula, he’ll fight himself, and they’ll both win.

The sounds of water and lighting fill Zuko’s ears, and he tries to imagine what is occurring in his head.

He hears Azula say something else, this time, it sounds a lot more like a mumble in his ringing ears.

Then, silence. Zuko worries over what’s happened. It’s too quiet. A thousand thoughts flood his head at once and they all end with one of them dead.

Zuko winces, this time, he’s not entirely sure if it’s from the pain or the scenarios coursing through his head.

Almost as soon as it started, however, the silence ends, and the splashing of water can be heard not far from Zuko. This time, the sounds are all too loud, he can hear the clinking of chains against each other as someone is tied, and Zuko prays it’s Azula.

He hears Azula grunt in frustration and he knows Katara has won. He lets out a small sign before unwillingly redirecting his attention to the pain he can feel everywhere.

Katara comes over to him and flips him to his side, taking out leftover water and bending it to fit around her hand shape. She lightly presses her hands against Zuko’s wound on his chest and lets it heal.

Initially, he hates the feeling of pressure on his fresh wound, but it quickly fades as he is relieved of any and all pain. Zuko opens his eyes and looks over to Katara.

”Thank you, Katara,” he rasps out.

she smiles and tears tug at her eyes, “I think I’m the one who should be thanking you… We did it” she replies, letting the tears from her eyes finally fall.

Zuko looks at her and the tears streaming down her face.

”Are you okay?” He asks, taking into account her physicality. It doesn’t look like she has any wounds.

Katara tilts her head, still lightly crying. “What do you mean?”

”You’re crying,” he obviously points out.

”Yeah, tears of happiness,” she laughs out.

Zuko looks over to Azula, whose hands and mouth are iced as to avoid attacking any further. He looks back over to Katara who looks equally as confused as he feels over the concept of tears of happiness.

”You… Cry when you’re happy?” Zuko finally clarifies.

”Yes,” Katara quickly answers.

he tilts his head as Katara did earlier, still not grasping the idea.

”You’re doing it too,” Katara finally points out.

Zuko widens his eyes and brings a hand up to touch the bags under his eyes which are indeed wet. “That might be moreso from being shot with lighting than joy, if anything. Are you sure you’re okay?” Zuko checks Katara’s arms and analyzes her face.

”Zuko, I never thought I’d say this, but you have a lot to learn about being happy.” Katara lightly jabs at him.

Zuko lets out an “mmm” of acknowledgement, still not completely sure if Katara is okay, but allowing her to win the conversation.

Katara takes Zuko’s arm and allows his to lay his weight on her as they begin to leave.

”And for the record,” Zuko finally continues, “you’re a pretty crier.”

Zuko is just able to catch a glimpse of Katara’s face heat up before she turns her head the other way.

”You’re so awkward,” she says, flushing.

”It was a compliment!” He argues.

And Katara laughs. A nice, light laugh that almost makes Zuko forget everything that happened.

This time, it’s his turn to turn away his blush.

#zutara #zuko #katara #fanfiction #atla #avatar the last airbender #atla zuko #atla katara

[s0ftb1tch12]

i may not be able to write out actual fanfic but i can put out ideas that scratch my brain and make me scream into the void

SO

being hazel callahan’s passenger princess and going on night drives when you both can’t sleep

going to zoos and aquariums where she rambles out fun facts on her favourite animals

staring at the chains around her neck so often she notices and buys you matching ones (same thing with rings, even better if they’re from brittany’s jewelry business)

movie marathon dates under a blanket fort complete with fairy lights, fluffy blankets, and snacks

fidgeting with each other’s hands while having long talks about whatever

i’m a FIRM believer in cocky!hazel after a few months of dating. once she knows you’ll stick with her for the long run, she’s not as nervous and acts more flirty (lingering touches, cheesier words, etc)

she may not be able to cook but she’ll surely try and learn your favorite foods (i think she’s more of a baker since baking is kinda like chemistry and we all know how she feels about explosive reactions)

on that note, i do believe she’s top of her class in chemistry or physics (thinking about her tutoring you in those subjects but those study dates eventually lead to makeout sessions)

that kiss scene towards the end of the movie and the fact that she wears rings really inspired me,,, y’all know where this is going probably (i NEED someone to write this desperately because i ain’t seen it anywhere and i’m down BAD)

literally any member of band!gf x loser!gf (i’m talking bassists, guitarists, drummers, lead singers)

those fics with cheerleader gf x loser gf !!! smth i haven’t seen with this trope yet is cheerleader gf surprising her with her strength, carrying her princess style

goth!gf x nerd!gf: her letting you do her eyeliner like yours, sitting in her lap as she lies down (like this 😩)

bimbo!gf x loser!gf: your average oblivious hyperfem with her awkward masc relationship, even better if bimbo!gf wears heels often so she’s taller than hazel who is at perfect height for forehead kisses (usually leaving lipstick marks that she doesn’t notice until pj basically screams and points at it)

hazel carrying a bunch of chapstick or hair ties in her backpack in case her gf forgets hers

thrifting dates because slow fashion is important

as a sanrio girlie, i think hazel would love pompompurin and his little hat

hazel acts kinda like a little golden retriever so she would definitely get along will with dogs but i like to think she’s a cat person, cats fucking LOVE her and she is always feeding the strays on her block

hazel is a tea girlie and yes she does have fun facts about them (chamomile became v important after her parents divorce)

hazel likes simulation games like stardew valley and role playing games like baldur’s gate (she spends hours making her character) (yes this is self indulgent because i love bg3)

she loves handmade gifts; make this baby a mug, crochet her a sweater, paint her a picture and she will melt

soooooo many trinkets on her shelves (god i wish we saw her room in the movie)

she def has a less common pet (reptiles, bugs, rodents [like ferrets])

a bird would be nice for hazel if i’m being honest, she talks to it everyday but especially after a bad day (like when pj dismisses whatever cool thing she wants to talk about at lunch and changes the topic by talking over her)

idk what else to say rn but best believe that my brain will rot again because the gay shit will not be going away any time soon

#bottoms movie #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #ruby cruz #down astronomically bad #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan fluff #hazel bottoms #hazel callahan x you #sapphic #wlw #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x fem reader

[sporadicthingcollection]

Smash or Pass: Part 1/4 (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: It's the last stop before the Grand Line and you slink away for a quiet evening. The universe, however, decides to clown on you. Sequel to Kiss, Marry, Kill. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Warnings: Alcohol, death threats, implied threat of sexual assault. Word Count: ~3.1k.

Mama told me what I should know

"Too much candy's gonna rot your soul

If she loves you, let her go'

Cause love only gets you down!"

---

PART 1: In which you are threatened with a knife, a gun, and a good time.

You thought the night would be fine. You thought no one in this bar would bother you. You thought you’d have a little nightcap or three and head back to the ship. You thought you’d have one last night to spend on your own before sharing a small space with five other people for the foreseeable future.

But nothing worked out as you’d hoped.

As soon as you got comfy at a table in the corner, a horde of rough-looking sailors descended and lit up the place. Loud. Rowdy. Obnoxious.

Ugh. At least they’re not Marines. You can lay low. Sink deep in your chair and focus on your drink.

Gazing into the scrying beer glass, you let your mind wander among the swirls. Thoughts ebb and flow.

Like how you need to remember to get more sutures before you cast off. Or how heavy your fingers feel under all the jewelry. How naked your ring fingers look with no adornment. Your family would be nagging you to get married by now. They’d like Sanji.

But they wouldn’t like that stupid, stupid clown.

He’s been on your mind a lot lately. You hate it. But how could he not be? Made you an offer you had to refuse. You tell yourself it wouldn’t have worked out. Where was he last month when you were looking for an escape? You hope you never see him again.

…but if you did see him again, you wouldn’t complain. He’d probably sidle up to you and say something like—

“Well, hello, gorgeous."

Yeah, that's exactly what he would say.

Wait. That was loud. That wasn’t your thoughts. It can’t be. You turn. 

Buggy the Clown grins at you. “Fancy meeting you here, Miss Sawbones."

You dive to the floor as he pulls a knife from his sleeve and throws it at you, sinking up to the handle in the wall. You clamber to your feet, put on your best snarl, and raise your fists.

All eyes are on you and Buggy as you size him up. The clink of chains and scrape of drawn swords sounds all around you. You’re not sure who your allies are, but you’re grateful for the support.

Especially because there’s just as many goons behind Buggy. He looks as surprised as you feel. His stance softens as he glances around. You could get a punch in while his guard is down—

“Hey!”

A gravelly voice splits the very air of the room. Like a child caught in the cookie jar, you freeze. You’re in big trouble.

Buggy freezes too. His shoulders hunch and his eyes go wide. He glances at you, and then to the side. You look in the same direction.

Standing behind the bar is a stout woman in an apron. A cigar dangles from her lips and she wields a wicked glare. Along with a very, very large shotgun.

She points at a big sign hung above the shelves. NO FiTiN IN DaH baR in big red letters on weathered wooden planks.

“‘No fittin’…?'” Buggy mutters.

“If you’re gonna kill each other,” the matron says, “do it outside.”

Due to a sudden lapse in self-preservation, you speak up. “He started it—“

Everyone jumps as she fires into the ceiling. “And I’m ending it. Get along or get out.”

You glance at Buggy. He glances back. You can see the whites of his eyes, even from all the way over here. Slowly, he replaces his knives back into his jacket.

You lower your fists, feeling awful sheepish.

The bar matron nods. “Back to your drinks, all of you,” she says. 

You can’t help but feel a little embarrassed as the crowd disperses. You can read. You’re very literate. How’d you miss that?

“Guess we both need glasses,” Buggy says right next to your ear.

You jump and nearly swing on him again, but you pull the punch. You have no interest in being shot tonight. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Getting a drink, same as you. Last stop before the Grand Line.” His voice dips low and he leans in close. “And last chance I’ll likely get to cut you and your little captain’s throats.”

You scowl. “Over my dead body,” you growl.

“That’s the idea.” The matron clears her throat loudly. He flinches and pulls back, but the glare remains. “Once you leave, babe— snnckt!” He draws his finger across his throat and his head rolls off his shoulders and into his arms. You yelp and he cackles as he puts it back.

Well, now you’re in it. This wouldn’t have happened if you stayed on the ship, you dumb lush. You could have just drank with Zoro. Or shot the shit with Usopp while he shot at shit. Or let Sanji hit on you while you sharpened his knives. Literally anything would have been better than this.

But here you are. Time to get yourself out of it. Somehow.

"Well, I’m not going anywhere," you tell Buggy. You sit back down at your table. "So get comfy, clown."

He places his hat on the table and plops into the seat across from you. He snatches up the mug -- your mug -- and takes a long, long, long pull. He tips his head all the way back, throat bobbing with every swallow.

You try and fail to drag your eyes away. You like sharp throats.

When it's drained, he slams it back down on the table. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and how he doesn't smudge his makeup, you'll never know.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He kicks up his boots onto the table. “So what’re we drinkin’? Rum? Ale? Whiskey? Bet you’re a rum kinda gal.”

This is gonna be a night.

---

One bottle in. You glower at him and he smiles back, eyes twinkling in the dim light.

Second bottle. The sun is fully down. He’s started chattering about nothing and everything. Rage roils inside you.

Third bottle. The room slowly spins. He’s still talking. You might leave just so you can strangle him.

Fourth bottle. You flip him the bird. He just giggles.

Fifth bottle. You mix it up a bit and order some shots. The matron brings the glasses and leaves the bottle. 

“Hey, the good shit.” Buggy pours two glasses and raises one. “Cheers.”

Something bubbles up in your chest. The urge to speak. You’re gonna say something stupid. You just know it. And you’re just lubricated enough that it slides through. 

You raise your glass. “Another day, another bender. No retreat, no surrender.” You toss it back and it scorches your throat on its way down.

Your head is so full of cotton that it takes you a moment to notice the laughter. Strong. Sharp. Bellyful. Contagious. You like that laugh. You’d like to hear more of it.

And then you realize it’s coming from Buggy. He has his head tossed back and his eyes scrunched and he’s letting out the most glorious laughter you’ve ever heard.

Before you can be properly disgusted with yourself, he recovers. “I got one.” He pours another pair of shots and slides one to you. “Here’s to our wives and girlfriends. May they never meet.”

Two more shots tossed back and two more glasses slammed on the table. It’s all going right to your head and the more it does, the more you’re enjoying yourself.

“Everyone knows that one,” you say. You pour. “One drink is good, two at the most. Three I’m under the table, four I’m under the host.”

His eyebrows shoot up, lips pursed into a circle. Then he laughs again. “Workin’ blue tonight! Alright!” Two more shots poured. “It ain’t the length, it ain’t the size, it’s how often I can make it rise.”

You weren’t expecting that and you almost spit the shot out. You hack and sputter as it goes down the wrong pipe, but you recover.

Though now you’re thinking about Buggy’s dick. You should probably stop that. You wonder if it’s small and that’s why he is how he is.

“Y’alright, babe?” He takes a pull right from the bottle and spills some on his chin and shirt. He’s sauced too. Small comfort.

One more comes to mind. You reach across and snatch the bottle. “Now he lays me down to screw.” You pour one shot. “I pray this clown knows what to do.” You pour the other. “If he should cum before I end…” You raise yours. “I swear to God I’ll fuck his friend!”

He stares at you a moment, grinless, just long enough for you to worry. And then it returns with a howling cackle. He slams his glass into yours hard enough to slosh some whiskey out and you both shoot it back.

You stare at each other, giggling like hyenas. Some part of you knows this is ridiculous. You’re getting smashed with a guy who tried to kill you and your friends. Who was just ready to kill you. Who is plotting to slit your throat right when you’re not expecting it.

You just laugh harder. What’s your life come to?

You come back down to see him staring at you, head resting on his hand. "You laugh cute."

“Nuh-uh.” You take a swig from the whiskey bottle. “I laugh like a News Coo.”

“News Coos are adorable!” He snatches the bottle back and takes a pull. “We switchin’ back to rum after this one? Or do we wanna get avden— abvench— adventurous?”

A good question. "Let's go nuts."

"My kinda woman!" He slams the table to catch the matron's attention. "Bring us something strong!"

---

Bottle six is gin. Neither of you like it and you both down the whole thing. Bottle seven, you're back to ale.

On eight, you wonder if the throat-cutting threat was a ruse and he's really just going to give you alcohol poisoning.

At least it's a fun way to go.

"So there I am," Buggy says, "looking at the giant hole in the hull where the cannon once was, holding a cannonball like this--" He jumps to his feet, pops his head off, and clutches it to his chest like it weighs fifty pounds. "--when the first mate himself walks in."

Your jaw drops. "What'd you do?"

"Only thing I could do.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “Threw the cannonball at him!"

He lobs his head to you. You squeal in surprise, just barely managing to catch him before you fall out of your chair. The giggles flow from you like water from a spigot.

He grins as you look at him. "Gotcha," he says with a wink.

Maybe it's the booze. Maybe it's the surprise. Your cheeks heat up all the same. You throw the head back and clamber to your feet.

A moment of clarity hits you as you sit back down. "Why are we drinking together? You wanna kill me."

"It's not that weird. Best drinkin' buddies I ever had tried to kill me. When I tried to skip out on the tab, but... y'know." He takes a gulp from his mug. "’Sides, I like you."

"Why?"

“Barber. Cute laugh. Helluva haymaker." Another swig. “You'd do better with me than that group of losers."

"I am not joining your crew."

He watches the ale swirl in his mug, tracing the rim with his fingers. His lips purse and he glances everywhere but your face.

You try to wait for him to speak, but music catches your attention before he can reply. A lively tune, one perfect for dancing. It looks like some of the pirates pulled out instruments and are entertaining their fellows.

"Aw, I love this song," you chirp. “Luffy’s right, we gotta get us a musician already.”

A chain of dancers sails past. You wish you could hop in, but you’ve got two left feet in ill-fitting high heels when you’re sober on a good day.

Buggy watches you watch them. “Go cut a rug. I’ll watch your shit.”

You shake your head a little too hard and the universe spins. “No way. Can’t dance worth a damn.”

“I’ll give you a hand.” His left hand detaches with a little flourish. “Or two.” Off goes the other one. “Or all of me, if you want.”

“Then who’s gonna watch my shit?”

He blinks, then sits back. “Whatever. I gotta piss anyways,” he mutters. He tries to stand, only for his feet to slip out from under him. “Can I get a hand?”

“Alright, but I’m not helping you aim.” You’re less sober than he is, but you’re drunk enough to try. Hauling yourself to your feet, you offer your hand. He takes it, pulling himself upwards.

And then you see the smile on his face. In a burst of coordination, he pulls you into the throng of people.

Oooooh no. No. No no no. He whirls you around, making your head spin. You step on someone’s foot. “I. Cannot. Dance.”

“Can’t?” He lifts you up, moves you to the side, and places you down again. “Or won’t?”

“Both!”

“Bullshit. Hand here.” He plants your hand on his shoulder and places his own on your—

You slap the smile off his face. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. He accepts it.

“Sorry, thought you were shorter,” he mutters. He puts his hand on your waist. Even through his glove, you can feel his warmth. “Stand on my feet.”

“I’m not a child!” You try to pull away, only to collide with a very large man and get knocked back into Buggy. You’re trapped. No way out but to dance.

You know what? Fine. You stand on his feet — making sure to stamp his toes good — and glower at him. “What’s next?”

The smile returns. “Hold on tight, sweetheart.”

You clutch him as tight as you dare. And thank God you do, because soon you’re spinning like a top.

He guides you over and under, side to side, forward and back. And you don’t trip once. Neither of you do. You don’t even feel nauseous. How is he doing this? Is he magic? Is he just that good?

You glance down. Detached from his ankles, his feet support yours as they scoot around. The rest of him glides through the air, guiding you among the other dancers.

It might as well be magic.

"Light off your feet!" you say.

Buggy's chest thrums with a chuckle. Your stomach jumps into your throat as he drops you into a dip just long enough for him to wink at you. "Ain't I clever?"

He pulls you back up and your stomach slides into your boots. The dance continues.

Whirling, twirling, ducking, weaving, bouncing, bobbing… Is this what a dolphin feels like, swirled around by ocean currents? Or a kite, floating on the breeze? Or a princess swept off her feet by a dashing scoundrel?

Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you ponder what your life has come to. A pirate, dancing on the feet of a clown who tried to kill you and your friends. Who then stole several kisses from you and made your heart flutter and got really drunk with you and now you're a little in lo--

No. Don't say it. If you don't say it, it won't come true. Unless it's the other way around?

It is the other way around. If you say it, you'll jinx it and it won't happen. So you admit it to yourself: you're smitten with this psychotic jackass.

The laughter bubbles forth and it just won't stop. You don't want it to stop. You never want this to stop. This feeling, this dance, this fit of hysterics.

But it must, as all things do. With one final fiddle run, the music stops and everyone applauds. You would join them, but you’re too busy holding onto Buggy for dear life, catching your breath and trying to stop the room from spinning.

“Can’t dance, huh?”

He’s as breathless as you, mouth parted as he takes breaths deep enough to shake his shoulders. Sweat glistens on his face. Glows, even. A few shimmering strands of hair have slipped from his bandanna and stick to his forehead.

What little breath you’ve recovered vanishes from your lungs. Your heart flutters — no, it flaps, like a gull fighting a gust.

You wanna kiss him, but that last shred of self-restraint stops you. “Let’s go again,” you say instead.

His face lights up. “Lemme-- Lemme get rid of this.“

His forearms slip out of his coat and fly to his shoulders, catching his coat as he shrugs out of it. They zip over toward your table. Pretty slick, you admit to yourself.

And then it gets caught on a chair. The arms yank and yank, but it’s snagged good. You giggle.

“C’mon, you piece of…!” He huffs. He pecks your cheek. “Don’t go anywhere.”

He scrambles over to the snag, tripping on every table and chair along the way.

And then you realize he kissed you. Your spine goes rigid.

A tap on your shoulder knocks you out of your stun and you turn. You half-expect it to be one of his hands, but a rather large pirate is there.

“My captain fancies you,” he rumbles. He nods at a smug-looking blond with the worst come-hither face you’ve ever seen. “He would like the pleasure of your company.”

Nnnnno, you think. “Nnnnno,” you say. Buggy has freed his coat and is draining the rest of the bottle you’d abandoned. “Already spoken for.”

The man’s hand engulfs your shoulder and pulls you around. “It wasn’t a request.”

The blond snakes his arm around your trunk, his hand going to your breast. You try to pull away, but the goon’s grip is like iron.

A sharp whistle makes everyone turn. Buggy stands there, arms behind his back. His expression is neutral, but you see his clenched jaw and the bulging tendon in his neck.

“And where are you going with my leading lady?” He’s got the showman voice on. “Our number isn’t over.”

The captain smiles. “I’ll return her once we’ve had our fun,” he says.

He takes a few meandering steps towards them. “Look, gentlemen: we can play this as a tragedy or a comedy. Your choice.”

The goon straightens up. He cracks his knuckles with a chorus of pops. The captain draws a rapier. You’re not sure how well a Chop Chop man handles being stabbed.

Buggy glances between the two of them, nonplussed. “Comedy it is.”

Two disembodied hands slam a bottle over each man’s head. Shards of glass and drops of rum fly everywhere. The pirates’ grips go slack, and you jump away as they hit the floor with dull thuds.

Chaos erupts.

---

⬅⬅⬅ | To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | To the Tip Jar | ➡➡➡

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #kiss marry kill #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #smash or pass #the curious courtship of buggy the clown

[queendarkwolvescolby]

Truth or Dare

Colby x y/n

Requests are open <3 :)

Warnings: Smut18+, unprotected sex, a potential pregnancy, heaving kissing, choking, handcuffs, drunken sex, biting.

You and Kat are at a carnival in Los Vegas and enjoying a nice alcoholic drinks, one each but that was enough to get you buzzed.

“Hey” Kat says. You giggle “What’s up?” You are clearly drunk and so is she.

“Guess who just moved here to Los Vegas and has a hot roommate that is soon going to be mine?” Kat continues.

You look at her confused as she points behind you.

You met eyes with this man and the world frozen, you were sober for a moment. His dark hair with the faded red, his black outfit with the chains bouncing on his legs, the rings on his fingers, and mmm the chain around his neck and how it would be swing forward and backward while he’s on top of yo-.

“Hello? Anyone there?” Colby says snapping you back to Earth. “She’s stargazing over you, she’s fine” Kat said giggling as she then looks back at Sam, the roommate she was talking about.

“Sorry, Hey Colbs. It’s been a while.” You say pulling your drink back up to your mouth.

“Hey, you and Kat are drunk so we will meet yall at the new trap house.” Colby says pulling you into a hug.

You hug him back as you feel his hand gently slide over your ass then he walks away waving.

“Wait, new trap house???” You said turning to Kat

“I’ll explain in the Uber” She giggles.

In the uber Kat explains that they bought the new trap house and everyone’s going to be living in there and blah blah blah.

At the trap house, already mostly unpacked and decorated. You enter the house and Colby greets you, “hey, wanna see my room?”

You look at Kat with a smirk as she nods. You turn back to Colby, “sure why not?”

He smiles and takes your hand leading you to his bedroom.

It’s pretty empty other than the furniture and a few other things. You also notice some empty white claw cans that look recently drank. You lay on his bed as he follows you and lays by you.

“So, what do you think?” He says inching towards you.

“Well, the floor looks kind of empty and your beds kinda cold.” You say moving towards him as well. “Let’s change that, clothes on the floor and bodies on the bed.” He says looking at your lips then back at your eyes.

“Go ahead, I know you want to” you say as you bite your lip.

“You’re right, I do” he said and with that grabbed your face and pulled your lips onto his. He passionately kissed you.

He got on top of you and slid his hand under your shirt up to your throat. As he placed his hand on your throat he slid his tongue inside your mouth.

Yours and his tongue fighting for dominance.

Y’all separate for air.

“I have been waiting to do this for years.” He said then starts kissing your neck, biting it as he goes leaving hickey’s and bite marks everywhere on your body.

“We’ve fucked before Colbs, I was your first and you were mine, and few more times.” You said giggling at the last part.

“Yeah but this time” he starts saying kissing down your chest, “I’m claiming what is mine and only mine from now on.” He says kissing down to your pants and aggressively pulls your pants and underwear down.

He circles your clit with his tongue making you arch your back and breath a moan.

He kisses back up to you while his hand slides back down.

He rubs your clit and whispers “Now baby girl, you’re all mine. This body, this heart and this love… all fucking mine.”

He kisses you while sliding a finger inside of you.

You moan into the kiss and your hand adventures into his pants.

God he’s huge. Trying to tease him, you barely touch the tip and he moans softly breaking the kiss. “Mmm, now thats not what I told you to do, now is it baby girl?” He says as he stops rubbing you.

He takes his pants off and pulls yours the rest of the way off throwing them on the floor. “Get on your knees for me.” He says demanding. You can’t help yourself anymore, it’s so hot you can barely think.

You get on your knees as he slides to the end of the bed where you are. He opens his hands as his cock flies out. “Suck it, baby girl.” He says looking into your eyes, burning your skin, it’s making you crazy.

You put the tip in your mouth and circle the top with your tongue. His head tilts back with a breathless moan.

“Now come on, we love noises now don’t we?” You say teasing him.

“Mm we sure do,” he says as he pushes your mouth down his dick and in doing that moans out loud.

You move your head up and down his dick as his hand was holding your hair and pushing your head.

He lets you come up for air but not for long until he grabs you slamming you back on the bed. He kisses you passionately, biting your lips and taking off your shirt.

You take off his and slide your fingers along his abs.

“Are you ready baby girl?” He said breaking the kiss and spreading your legs.

“Always” You say taking out his handcuffs and putting them on.

“Mm, you know me all to well.” He said grabbing the hand cuff chains that connected your hands and inserted his dick making both of y’all moan.

“Ahh fuck, your so fucking tight love.” He said breathing heavy already.

“Mm, your huge, so it’s not my fault,” you say teasing him.

“Now love, teasing is a brave move right now.” He said, slowly moving.

You moan, “Just fuck me damnit.”

“My pleasure.” He said, picking up the speed. Thrusting in and out hitting the spot every time.

His chain hanging over your face following his movement, his breath heavy and hot. His body sweating and so hot. His dick inside you, warm and throbbing. You never want this to end but can’t last forever and neither can he.

He grabs one of your nipples and starts sucking on it. You moan not able to contain any of the sounds.

“Babe, your so hot underneath me.” He says grabbing the cuffs with one hand and circling your clit with the other.

Both of y’all’s body’s moving together, his dick throbbing and moving in and out of you hitting all the right spots.

“Come on baby, cum for me.” He says slamming his hips into your ass with every thrust.

“T-together.” You manage to moan out.

He nods as he grabs your thighs lifting them up to get more of a handle and deeper into you.

“Ahh, baby baby, I’m gonna cum” He moans with heavy breathing.

“Me too, me too” You moan along with him.

“W-where” He manages to say.

“In-inside..” you moan as he bursts inside of you when a loud moan. With that feeling you, the feeling in your stomach bursts as well.

He collapsed beside you and you cuddle up to him as he cuddled back, both out of breath and extremely tired but satisfied.

Before falling asleep, you managed to say “Good night, my love.” You fell asleep right away.

He blushed, then kissed your forehead. “You know.. I think I’m in love with you.” He said as he looks at you before getting comfortable cuddling with you.

“Good night, darling.” He said, falling asleep with you in his arms.

You wake up being gently shook, “Come on it’s already the afternoon and I made breakfast.” Colby says as you jump up almost knocking over the orange juice on the tray.

Colby had made you a breakfast in bed thing.

“Calm down, it’s okay” Colby says gently.

“My head hurts..” You say calming down and holding your head.

“Hangovers are the worst” He says as he sets the tray on your lap and sitting next to you.

You look down noticing your not clothed. Blushing and embarrassed you look up at Colby.

He laughs, “Yea.. we did.”

You look down and he notices.

“You look disappointed..” He says clearly upset.

“It’s just that.. I’ve had a crush on you for awhile and wanted to move slow with you so I didn’t ruin anything with the group and with yo-“ You continue.

“Hey, hey,” he says cupping your face, “we still can, ok? I won’t say anything to the group and we can take it slow and from the beginning after today.” He says as he kisses your forehead.

Days go by and Colby and you get closer and closer but as a secret.

“Knock knock.” Kat says knocking on the door. You and Colby look at each other and then you quickly hide under the bed.

“Heyyy Kattt” Colby says suspiciously.

“Uh hey, before we do this game tonight, I need to ask a favor.” Kat says entering the room and cracking the door.

“Uh yea what’s up?” Colby replies.

“Can you kinda take it easy on y/n” Kat starts, “she kinda has a crush on you” Kat says with a little smile.

Colby tries not to giggle, “Yeah I can do that, maybe I’ll try to see if she’s the one, yknow.” Colby ends up saying giggling.

“Oooo okk” Kat said exiting, and Colby burst out laughing.

“Shut up!” You say as you kick the bed and move out from the bed. You put on Colby’s shirt, not noticing and your booty shorts.

Y’all head out to the living room and sit vertically from each other. Everyone was in the living room and already recording.

After some easy truths and dares, and the drinking increased, came the harder questions.

“Truth or Dare Sam.” You say smirking.

“Uh dare,” Sam said nervously.

“I dare you to kiss Kat.” You said smiling.

Sam and Kat both blush. Sam gets up and heads over to Kat and kisses her for a long ass time.

Colby looks at you and winks as you blush making him chuckle and look back at Sam.

“Ok, ok. We’re recording.” Colby says laughing.

Sam and Kat separate looking at each other, “ahem.” You clear your throat.

“Sam, its your turn.” You say taking another drink of your drink.

Sam smiles at you. Oh shit…

“Truth or dare.” Sam smirks at you.

“Uh. Shit..” You say knowing either one is gonna be bad.

“Dare.” You finally say.

“I dare you to call the last person you hooked up with and tell them you love them,” Sam smiles in his victory.

You look at Colby and he laughs. You give him the ‘your dead’ look but it doesn’t phase him.

“Come on, what are you scared??” Sam said teasing you.

“You know what, fuck it” You said grabbing your phone and clicking Colby’s name.

Colby’s phone rings and everyone looks at Colby and back at you then Colby.

“Oop” Kat said as everyone starts laughing and congratulating you and Colby.

You hang up the phone, “we aren’t dating-“ you start to say as Colby interrupts you.

“Yet, but..” He starts as everyone looks at him confused and he heads over to you.

“Would you do me the honors and be my girlfriend?” Colby says as he sits beside you and puts his arm around you, his face just inches from yours.

“Y-yes..” You say blushing as everyone cheers.

A/n: Hi guys, sorry it took so long, work has been crazy. I hope y’all enjoyed this and I was thinking about doing a part two with pregnant reader so let me know if I should do that and PLEASE request something so I can write something for yall! Hope yall enjoy, have a good day or night! <3

#colby brock #colby brock fluff #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #colby x reader #sam and colby #fanfiction #colbyxyn #xplr