#Red Fort Violence | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lostfracturess · 3 months

Text

【 ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇʀɴ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ 】 7

x PAIRING gojo satoru x fem!reader (main); megumi fushiguro x fem!reader x WORD COUNT 13.4 k x SUMMARY you never wanted to become part of the world of jujutsu sorcerers, yet fate had other plans when the one and only satoru gojo took you under his wing at jujutsu high. as the lines between student and teacher begin to blur, hidden powers surge to life, and a deadly target is set on your head. x WARNINGS + NOTES this story contains partly abusive and possessive behavior, explicit content, graphic depictions of violence, injury, combat and angst. you can also read it on wattpad or ao3. pls like or repost if you enjoyed ♡

➸ ch 1; ch 2; ch 3; ch 4; ch 5; ch 6

You will never forget the day you met him. It may have been the best day of your life. It may have been the worst day of your life. Maybe neither. Maybe both.

****

You stood alone in a deserted warehouse. Wind whistled through the broken windows. Light flickered. A grotesque creature crouched a few meters away. It had feathers, like slick, oily shadows, constantly moving, and long, twisted, cruelly sharp claws.

It looked terrible. It looked beautiful.

You didn't care. Never cared. Never cared what they looked like. They were evil. That was all you needed to know. All you were ever given.

The creature turned towards you, as if it had just become aware of your presence. It opened its maw and let out a shriek that was far from human.

You steadied your breath, focusing on controlling your cursed energy. Admittedly, manipulating cursed energy wasn't your forte, but in this moment, it wasn't your main concern. The only thing you needed—ever needed—was the dagger strapped to your waist. Your father's gift.

The creature lunged. You drew the dagger with practiced ease, its familiar weight a soothing presence in your hand. You positioned yourself, didn't flinch or hesitate. "Come here," you said, then ran towards it.

In the last second before impact, you crouched down on the ground and slid underneath the curse to its back. The curse collapsed with the wall. The impact sent shockwaves through the warehouse, causing debris to fall from the ceiling. You turned, dagger in hand, ready to end its life.

But it was faster. The curse twisted its form, narrowly dodging your attack. It reached for your arm, seizing you with a terrifyingly strong grip. The dagger fell to the ground. You pushed with your legs against it as it bore you down into the cold ground. It did not budge.

Panic surged through your veins. Red eyes locked onto you. Its iron grip tightened—threatened to shatter your bones.

Frantically, you scanned your surroundings for a weapon. A shard of metal lay on the ground nearby. You snatched it up. This will do.

With all the strength you could muster, you hurled the improvised weapon at the curse, aiming straight for its eyes. The curse recoiled. It momentarily loosened its grip on your arm—just enough for you to escape. Grabbing the dagger, you lunged at the curse.

The curse twisted away. Your strike only grazed.

Oh Shit.

It slammed you backward, propelling you several meters into a rusted warehouse shelf. The shelf groaned under the impact, showering you with a cascade of dust and debris. The world seemed to blur for a second.

The metal of the shelf pierced your back—slicing through your flesh. Blood oozed from the wound. You winced. The sweet taste of iron filled your mouth. But there was no time to assess its depth or severity. You had to press on.

You forced yourself up, gritting your teeth against the pain. Adrenaline coursed through you.

The curse came at you once more. Its movements unnaturally quick. In your years of battling evil creatures, you had seen your share of curses. But this one was different. It twisted. Crimson eyes tracking your every move. Then it lunged. Claws slicing through the air.

In the nick of time, you raised your arms to shield yourself, struggling to hold the dagger against the curse's onslaught. Your knees buckled under the force, trembling as the curse crept closer. Every fiber of your being screamed.

You barely held it back. The dagger against its claws.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

You had to use your cursed energy.

You tapped into your cursed energy, summoning it with every ounce of your being. It surged through you like a tidal wave. Uncontrolled and raw. Too much and too little all at once. Always threatening to consume you. You had to be quick, or the cursed energy would knock you out before you could strike a blow against the curse.

For a split second, you gained control over your power. You pushed back with all your might and drove the dagger into the curse's head. The warehouse echoed with a bone-chilling shriek. In mere seconds, it vanished, leaving behind only the haunting memory of its red eyes.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you struggled to regain your composure. Dust and debris clung to your sweat-soaked skin. Weakness washed over you in waves. Then your legs gave way beneath you. You collapsed to the cold concrete floor.

You remained motionless for what felt like an eternity, unable to move. This was the price you had to pay for wielding the cursed energy. The power that had saved you in countless battles had also brought you to the brink of defeat. You used it only when absolutely necessary.

However, those moments of necessity seemed to be occurring more frequently lately, as if the world around you was growing darker, and more powerful curses were drawn to your presence.

Slowly, you regained control of your muscles. You rolled over, the world spinning around you. Blood clung to the floor as you struggled to sit up. Every movement sent sharp jolts of pain coursing through your body. Your fingers trembled as you reached behind you, trying to assess the severity of your injury.

Your fingers brushed against torn fabric and the warm stickiness of blood. The wound throbbed in response, and you winced at the searing pain that shot through your back. It was deep, and though you couldn't see it, you knew that it would leave a lasting mark.

Suddenly you heard a low, guttural growl.

Another curse.

Out of the darkness emerged a terrifying creature—larger than the curse before. Its grotesque limbs were twisted and deformed. Its eyes, dull and lifeless, stared at you with a malevolent hunger. The curse advanced, its movements sluggish yet unnerving.

Your battered body protested as you forced yourself up. But it was in vain, your body refusing to obey your commands. You fell back to your knees. Your cursed energy drained you too much. You used too much.

Fuck.

Out of nowhere, a figure appeared, silhouetted against the radiant crimson glow—a man with striking white hair. Tall frame. Broad shoulders.

"Careful now," the man said. "Wouldn't want you getting killed after such an impressive show."

The curse recoiled in fear. Its malevolence subdued by the sheer force of the stranger's presence.

Fear?

The curse?

How was that even possible?

The stranger raised his hand, and with a swift and fluid motion, he unleashed a torrent of cursed energy that engulfed the curse. The malevolent creature let out a final, agonized wail before disintegrating into nothingness, leaving only a swirling void where it once stood. As the brilliant light faded, the warehouse returned back to darkness.

The man turned towards you. He came closer, hovering over you, glaring over the top of his sunglasses. Your eyes met and for a moment time seemed to stand still. His eyes were a piercing blue, so intense that they seemed to see right through you. You found yourself momentarily lost in them. Your guard slipped.

Your guard slipped?

Damn it, get it together.

Your fist tightened around the dagger's hilt. A surge of strength flooded back, and you sprang to your feet, sweeping your leg to knock the man off balance. He tumbled to the floor, and you swiftly followed, pinning him down with the dagger pressed against his throat.

He raised an eyebrow, seemingly amused. The dagger's edge mere inches from his throat. "Don't you think we should at least have a proper conversation before you end up on top of me?" he teased, his tone too careless for your liking.

"Who are you?" you demanded.

He smiled, unfazed by the blade. "Name's Satoru Gojo. And you are?"

You didn't answer.

You knew who he was. Gojo's reputation preceded him—a powerful sorcerer, the most powerful sorcerer, in fact. With his birth, it is said, the balance itself shifted. Ruthless and cruel. Selfish and arrogant. That's what they say about him. And yet, handsome and charming. But why was he here?

"You've got quite the grip there," Gojo continued, his gaze fixed on the dagger. "Mind letting that down?"

"Why are you here, Gojo?" you pressed.

"I came to see the sorcerer who's been taking down curses single-handedly. You're certainly making quite a name for yourself."

"I have no business with sorcerers."

"How so? Aren't you a sorcerer yourself?" He sighed. "But your cursed energy control is seriously trash, you should really—"

"Shut up," you pressed the dagger closer to his skin. A tiny bead of blood emerged where the blade met his flesh. Crimson against his pale complexion.

"You're quite stubborn, huh?" he observed with a smirk. In one fluid motion, Gojo rolled over, effortlessly reversing your positions, now pinning you beneath him. The cold concrete pressed against your back. His presence looming over you. "Bad for you, I do enjoy a little challenge," he added with a playful glint in his eye.

His weight bore you down. He leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. "But you really should be more cautious," he murmured. "Curses are a dangerous business."

"Get off me!"

He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Not so fast, Princess. You've got me all curious now."

Your heart pounded as his face drew even closer, his lips dangerously close to yours. "Curious about what?" you asked, but it came out breathless.

"About you," he said as his gaze lingered on your lips. Your heart raced. Your breath caught in your throat. "I want to know why you're hunting curses all alone."

The truth was, you were taken aback by his proximity. By the way his warm breath mingled with yours, and the way his eyes seemed to search your soul, as if he could read your every thought. Even though he was a stranger, you felt strangely familiar with him—strangely drawn to him.

"That's none of your business," you managed to reply, despite your voice faltering.

His fingers trailed along your neck, igniting a trail of fire wherever they touched. "Everything about you is my business now," he murmured.

What sick game is he playing with you?

You squirmed under his frame, desperately trying to escape his control. The pain coursing through your body as you did so nearly brought tears to your eyes.

He leaned in closer. "You crying?"

Hah??

Now, your pride was more wounded more than your body.

With a sudden burst of strength, you managed to roll, reversing your positions again. His eyes widened briefly as you pinned him down. You hovered over him, the dagger in your hands. Its tip dangerously close to his stupidly handsome blue eyes, hovering just inches away—poised.

Gojo's lips curled into a teasing smile, seemingly unbothered by being at your mercy. "Caught me off guard again, huh? I guess you really make me lose my focus," he teased, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "But you know in this position I might start getting wrong ideas."

You narrowed your eyes. "Answer my question, Gojo. Why are you really here?"

His playful demeanor faded for a moment, replaced by a more serious expression. "I told you, I wanted to meet the sorcerer who's been taking down curses. I came to offer my help."

"Help?" you echoed.

"Yes," he replied, his eyes softening. "You have potential, but you can't fight alone forever."

You couldn't help but be skeptical. This was Satoru Gojo, after all—a charismatic yet unpredictable sorcerer who always seemed to have his own agenda. But there was something in his eyes that made you hesitate, a genuine concern that belied his cocky demeanor.

"Are you saying you want to train me?" you asked, still not lowering the dagger.

Gojo nodded slightly. "I can teach you how to control your cursed energy, how to fight more effectively. I can make you stronger."

You hesitated. Could you trust him? Could you afford not to? What if this is a trap?

"Otherwise, your stubbornness will end up getting you killed," he said suddenly. "—just like it did your family."

You flinched back at his words.

"That dagger," he continued. "—is it from the Fujiwara clan, right?"

You froze. The blood drained from your face. You couldn't hide your reaction. The mention of your family striking a nerve. The Fujiwara family wasn't well known nowadays and you had always preferred it that way. It was a reminder of the pain and loss that had driven you to this life of isolation and fighting against the curses.

"You're the last one, aren't you?"

The dagger in your hand suddenly felt heavier.

"Let me help you."

You finally let the dagger down and moved back, giving him space to sit up. He brushed off the dust from his clothes with a nonchalant grace, then fixed his piercing blue eyes on you. "Come with me to Jujutsu High," he proposed.

"And what? Become your student?"

He chuckled lightly. "Sounds like you think that's a bad thing."

"You do have a certain—reputation."

"Ouch," he feigned hurt. "But I've heard a few things about you too."

You raised an eyebrow.

Gojo began ticking off on his fingers. "Cold, stubborn, heartless, icy bitch—"

"Icy bitch??" you interrupted, incredulous.

"—brutal, emotionless, unforgiving—," he continued, unfazed. His words painting a vivid picture of the reputation that preceded you.

"Okay, I get it," you said, cutting him off before he could further elaborate on your supposed traits.

"—and absolutely stunning," he added.

You were caught off guard. 'Stunning' was not a word you expected to come up in such a list.

Gojo leaned closer. His proximity forced you to shift back slightly. His hands planted firmly on the concrete on either side of you, his fingers brushing lightly against yours. His face mere inches from yours. "Stunning facade, but a cold heart within, they say—," he murmured, his gaze subtly shifting to your lips. "Though, I can't help but wonder if the right man might get even you to heat up, don't you think?"

Your breath hitched. The boldness of his statement, the closeness of his body, and the sudden darkness in his eyes stirred something within you.

"Is that what you fantasize about at night?" you snapped.

He quirked an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You have no idea the kind of unholy thoughts I have about you."

This man.

Gojo's arrogance seemed to know no bounds, and you wondered how someone like him could possibly be a teacher.

"Do you harass all your potential recruits?" you asked.

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "Only the ones I find particularly interesting."

You hated him.

Yet, you felt drawn to him.

There was an undeniable charm about him, a magnetic pull that you found both disconcerting and alluring. It was a dangerous combination, especially for someone like you, who had always preferred to keep the world at arm's length. Yet, each breath your took seemed to pull you even closer to him.

"You're bleeding pretty heavily," he observed.

"Yeah, well, maybe you should get me to that fancy Jujutsu school of yours and patch me up, instead of playing games," you retorted.

He smirked, that sly smile of his making another appearance. "It's not a game if I already know I've won."

"You really have a high attitude about yourself."

He seemed to brush off your comment. "So you're joining?"

You hesitated. "I'll consider it."

A triumphant gleam lit up his eyes. "Great!" he said, finally pulling back and giving you room to breathe. He stood up and offered you a hand. "You won't regret it."

****

The dagger suddenly felt heavy in your hand.

Gone its a soothing presence in your hand as you turned it over, watching the light glint off its polished surface. It felt like a burden.

Memories flooded back. More cruel than before.

The dagger was more than just a cursed weapon. It was a reminder of who you were before meeting Satoru Gojo. And now? You didn't even know who you were. What was the point of it all? Somehow you questioned it. Questioned everything.

Was joining Jujutsu High really the right decision?

Everything so far had been more about putting everyone you loved in danger than saving anyone. It shouldn't be like that.

Your fingers clenched around the dagger's handle, feeling the sting of its cold metal. Despite Shoko's healing, your body still ached. She had said recovery would take time, but as you stared at the blade, you wondered if some wounds ran too deep for time to heal.

The door creaked open, cutting through the silence. "I remember that dagger," Satoru said as he leaned against the doorframe, his tone tinged with nostalgia.

In a flash of anger, you hurled the dagger towards him. It sliced through the air with a deadly precision, embedding itself in the doorframe just inches from his face. Satoru remained still. He didn't flinch. His eyes fixed on you, absorbing the full force of your rage.

"You shouldn't be so comfortable around me," you cautioned. "Remember, I can break through your infinity. You were the one who taught me how."

"You wouldn't hurt me."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that."

"You're angry."

"Angry is an understatement."

"You have every right to be." Satoru pushed off from the doorframe. He stepped into the room, his usual nonchalance faltering slightly. "But I did what I thought was necessary to protect you."

"Protect me?" The words escaped you in a bitter, incredulous laugh. "Or control me?"

He walked towards you, closing the gap. "I'm trying to keep you safe."

"That's always your excuse, isn't it?" You countered, your voice rising as you stepped back. "You took away my choice, Satoru."

"Your choice would have killed you."

"And so be it!"

Satoru ran his hands through his hair. "You're so goddamn stubborn," he exclaimed, his voice cracking with frustration. "You're constantly throwing yourself into near-death situations!"

"How can I not, with everything that's happening!"

His expression hardened, eyes narrowing. "You don't understand, do you? You're not just another sorcerer—you're a target. A valuable one. Damn it, even the higher-ups want you dead!"

"What?"

He laughed, bitter and hollow. "You really think they haven't noticed your specific cursed technique? That they're oblivious to who you are?"

He began to pace the room. "They're terrified of you. Terrified of what you might do. Terrified of what you could do."

"So what are you saying? They're the ones behind all this?"

"Not directly," he said, shaking his head. "But they're cunning. They stand back, let others do the hunting. It wouldn't be the first time they've let someone else do their shit work."

"Since when do you know all this?"

Satoru's gaze shifted away. "It was obvious the day you first stepped through the school's gates."

"And you thought I shouldn't know this?"

"What good would it have done?" His voice rose again. "So you could throw yourself into another reckless stunt? End up in even more danger?"

"I can't believe this."

The words died in your throat. Of course, Satoru knew. He must have. Keeping it from you the entire time, coating his lie under the pretence of protecting you from danger. But for fuck's sake, you had a right to know the extent of the danger you were in—the danger you posed to others.

"You knew it all along."

His silence. His decision to withhold such crucial information. It felt like a betrayal.

A part of you understood his intent, but it didn't calm the rage that simmered inside you. How many more secrets was he keeping? How much more did you not know?

"What else are you hiding from me, Satoru?"

"I'm not hiding anything," he closed the gap between you, forcing you back until your spine was pressed against the cold wall. He towered over you. "I'm trying to protect you—from them, from—"

"—from myself?" Your words sliced through the air. "Is that what this is? You think I can't handle the truth?"

"It's not that simple," Satoru replied. "You're in more danger than you realize. And yes, I'm scared. Terrified of losing you, of what could happen if you... if you—"

"If I what, Satoru?" Your interruption was sharp. "If I lose control? Turn into Geto? Is that your fear?"

"Don't talk about things you don't understand," he warned, his expression darkening.

"You're so blinded by your past, you can't see me for who I am!"

Something within Satoru snapped at your words. "Stop it!" he cautioned, slamming his fist against the wall, alarmingly close to your head. But you didn't flinch. You didn't back down.

"Am I just a way for you to rewrite your past?"

His other hand reached out, gripping your jaw with a firmness that bordered on pain. "Enough!" His voice was sharp, his grip unyielding, trapping you. You should have stopped. But it was too late. You were already past the point of no return.

"Do you even love me, Satoru?"

Silence.

His jaw tightened, muscles tensing as he processed your words. For a long, tense moment, he just stared at you. His eyes looked like shattered glass. "You really asking me that?" he said quietly—defeated. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he released his grip and took a step back.

You had gone too far. You knew it.

Satoru turned away from you and walked to the other side of the room. He slumped onto the bed, his face buried in his hands. The distance between you more than physical.

The room seemed to shrink. Your thoughts drowned you. However, neither of you spoke.

You hated his silence. His silence was more dangerous than anything he could shout at you. You liked the angry Satoru. The one who screamed and yelled. The quiet Satoru you hated. Because you didn't know what he was thinking. It made your blood run cold.

You rubbed your jaw where his grip had been, feeling the lingering pressure. You parted your lips to say something—anything—to escape the silence, but he cut you off.

"Remember when you had that dagger against my throat when we first met?" he mused, a faint smile playing on his lips. "I knew then that you were someone special. Someone worth risking everything for."

He ran his hands through his hair. "God, I knew the moment I met you that I'd fall for you, no matter how hard I tried to resist."

Satoru's eyes met yours, and in that gaze, there was something you were terrified of. In his eyes, there was a question, the same one echoing in your mind. It was a crossroads, a silent query about where you both stood, about the future that seemed so uncertain.

The only thing that was cetrain was that nothing was simple anymore. Not your feelings, not your relationship, not the path ahead.

And it hurt. It hurt so fucking awful.

You both had tried, again and again, to connect, to understand one antoher. Yet, each attempt, seemed to leave deeper scars, add another layer to the walls you had unintentionally built between yourselves.

Your heart ached. You wanted to reach out, to close the distance, to somehow mend the fragile threads that still connected you. But the words wouldn't come; trapped behind the pain.

Satoru finally moved, a slight shift in his posture. "I should go."

You watched him leave.

The door closed softly behind him.

The room felt emptier now. His absence of his presence like a void. Just emptiness. Nothingness.

The last traces of sunlight faded from the room.

****

You didn't eat. You weren't hungry.

You sat at the table with Nobara, Megumi, and Yuji, picking at your breakfast, lost in your own thoughts. The usual lively banter among the group replaced by a heavy silence.

It had only been a few days. In the beginning, you had locked yourself in your room, refusing to see anyone. Nobara's constant attempts to bring you back eventually succeeded, and you reluctantly returned to your regular routine. You tried to get back to business as usual, though you despised that saying now. Nothing was the same. Everything had changed.

"So, I guess the wedding is canceled?" Yuji blurted out suddenly.

The joke landed awkwardly, to say the least.

Nobara shot Yuji a sharp look. "Not the time, Yuji."

Yuji's grin faltered, he scratched the back of his head sheepishly. "Sorry, just trying to cheer things up."

"You really have a bad timing," Megumi remarked.

Silence.

You pushed the food around your plate, your appetite nowhere to be found.

Yuji tried to change the subject. "Hey, did anyone finish the mission report from last week?"

Megumi nodded. "Yeah, I handled it."

Silence again.

Nobara's eyes lit up with an idea. "Hey, you know what? Since we've got a whole week off, why don't we go on a vacation? A change of scenery could do us some good."

Yuji's face brightened at the suggestion. "That sounds awesome! We could go to the beach, or maybe the mountains?"

Megumi considered it for a moment. "Doesn't sound like a bad plan."

Nobara nodded. "Exactly! We all deserve a break, especially after all this crap. Let's go somewhere, chill out, and forget about everything for a while."

You felt a sudden knot from in your stomach. How the hell could the others be so damn carefree about this. You couldn't even celebrate Megumi's birthday without almost getting killed. How should you go on a fucking vacation. That would never happen. Satoru wouldn't allow it.

"I vote for somewhere with good food! Maybe a hot spring resort? They usually have great meals," Yuji chimed in.

"Sounds good," Megumi agreed.

Nobara clapped her hands together. "It's settled then! A hot spring resort it is. I'll start looking up some places."

You remained silent, pondering over all the possibilities how this could go wrong. Then you felt a gentle pressure on your thigh under the table. Glancing down, then subtly towards Megumi, you noticed it was his hand. His thumb caressed your leg. Only now did you realize that you were tense.

His gaze met yours and something within his eyes gave you the feeling that it might be okay. Maybe, just maybe, this vacation was what you all needed—a chance to step back, to breathe. The idea didn't seem so terrible anymore. Perhaps it was worth giving it a chance.

But there was still an issue.

"Satoru wouldn't let me go," you said.

Nobara rolled her eyes. "Oh please, since when do you need Gojo's permission for anything? Besides, he's been overprotective lately. A little space might do his ego some good."

Yuji nodded in agreement. "Yeah, and if he complains, we'll just go without telling him!"

"If he's really that concerned, we should ask Yuta to come with us. He's second to Gojo, that should do," Nobara added.

"We should ask Maki too!" Yuji said.

You hesitated, glancing at Megumi for some semblance of rational objection. However, even he seemed on board with the idea. "If you want to go, you should," he said.

Damn it Megumi. That wasn't what you were hoping to hear. At if it was that simple.

Nobara leaned in, her eyes twinkling. "And just so you know, if you don't come with us willingly, we'll force you."

A resigned sigh escaped your lips. "Fine, you win. Let's head to the hot springs."

Nobara's face lit up again. "That's the spirit! I'll find us the best hot spring resort. We'll have so much fun, you'll forget all about the school and—well, everything else."

****

The train to Ginzan Onsen glided through the winter landscape. Outside, a fresh blanket of snow covered the countryside, transforming the rolling hills and distant mountains into a scene straight out of a painting.

With a bit of the train ride still ahead of you, Yuji decided it was time to play a game. "Let's do 'Two Truths and a Lie'. I'll start! First, I once ate fifthy plates at a sushi conveyor belt. Second, I speak three languages. And third, I've never been defeated in arm wrestling."

Nobara rolled her eyes. "The lie is obvious, Yuji. You barely manage Japanese."

Laughter echoed through the carriage, drawing curious glances from nearby passengers. Yuji, playing along, clutched his heart in mock hurt. "Harsh! Okay, Maki, your turn!"

Maki thought for a moment. "Alright. One, I've broken five bones. Two, I secretly love romantic comedies. Three, I've never lost a bet."

"It's definitely the romances," Nobara said. "That's the lie, right?"

Maki chuckled, leaning back in her seat. "Well, let's see." She paused for dramatic effect, then added, "Actually, that's true. I can't resist a good rom-com."

"Wait, what?" Yuji blurted out. "You?"

"Guilty as charged," Maki confessed.

Everyone on the train was stunned. Even the other passengers.

"I thought you were more of a splatter girl," Yuji added.

The game continued, with each revelation more amusing than the last. Finally, it was Megumi's turn. He hesitated for a moment, a slight frown on his face. "I'm not really creative enough for this game," he said, though you suspected he was more concerned about embarrassing himself.

But to his bad, Yuji jumped in. "Don't worry, Megumi, I got you covered! Here are Megumi's truths and lie: First, he secretly dreams of becoming a pop idol. Second, he's in love with a soon-to-be-married woman. And third, he's afraid of kittens."

You shouldn't laugh at this, but you couldn't help it and the entire compartment erupted into laughter. Even Yuta couldn't help but chuckle. Nobara was laughing so hard she had to wipe tears from her eyes.

Megumi's expression shifted to mock seriousness. "Alright, that's it. Prepare yourself, Itadori!" Then he lunged at Yuji. Yuji let out a surprised yelp, half-laughing, half-trying to evade Megumi. "Hey, it was just a joke!"

Infectious laughter filled the compartment as they tussled. Yuta's attempts at peacemaking only added to the comedy as he struggled to separate the two.

After the laughter died down, Nobara began. "So now that we've all had a good laugh, there's something I need to tell you about," she started, flipping through her phone. "It's about the rooms at the onsen. Turns out, the place is pretty booked. We had to get creative with the sleeping arrangements."

Maki perked up. "Creative how?"

"Well," Nobara continued, "there weren't enough rooms for each of us, so some of us will have to share."

Maki raised an eyebrow.

Nobara grinned. "Let's just say it'll be cozy. We have three rooms. I suggest we girls will take one room, and that leaves the guys with the other two. Unless anyone has a better idea?"

"So you three get in one room? You sure thats ok for you? Might be a bit small. We can also stay in one room," Yuta chimed in.

"You don't have to," you said. "I can share a room with Megumi."

Megumi turned to you, a flicker of surprise crossing his face.

"If you're okay with it," you quickly added.

Megumi nodded. "Sure."

Nobara and Yuji exchanged a quick glance. Yuji, unable to hold back, elbowed you gently. "Oooh, rooming with Megumi, huh? This trip just got more interesting!"

Megumi lunged at Yuji again.

Your phone buzzed with a new message. Pulling it out, you saw Satoru's name on the screen.

"Safe travels, love."

You stared at the screen. You thought he must be furious with you. But somehow you could hear his gentle, caring voice in your ear as you read the massage over and over again.

You had left without talking to him first, because you knew well enough what his reaction would have been—what his words would have been. Yet he hadn't tried to stop you from going on this trip. He sure knew when you would leave and with whom. He just accepted it.

Your heart felt heavy again. You began to type a reply—you wanted to type so many replies.

"Leave me alone."

"You're such an asshole."

"Why do you keep hurting me like this?"

"What made you fall in love with me, anyway?"

"Thinking about you hurts."

"I wish you were here."

"I miss you."

Yet you erased each one and just stared at the blank screen. Perhaps it was better not to reply at all. Just as your friends had advised, "put some distance between you and him."

Easier said than done when every thought about him pierced so deep.

****

As the train finally pulled into the station, the sky had darkened, and the world outside was bathed in the red glow of the setting sun reflecting off the snow.

You stepped off the train onto the snow-dusted platform, your breath visible in the crisp winter air. Before you could reach for your luggage, Megumi was already by your side. His hand steadying the handle before you could fully grasp it.

"Let me," he said.

For a split second, you wanted to protest, but his green eyes shimmering in the waning sunlight told you there was no room for argument. You nodded as he effortlessly hoisted your luggage.

As you approached the ryokan near the hot springs, traditional wooden buildings lined the streets like sentinels of an ancient time, their edges frosted with snow. Lanterns swayed gently, casting a soft, golden hue on the pristine snow. The faint scent of sulfur lingered in the air.

Stepping into the ryokan, a comforting wave of warm air enveloped you. The receptionist handed over the room keys, along with neatly folded yukatas. You decided to quickly change into your yukatas and meet again downstairs for the hot springs.

****

"What do you think?" you asked Megumi, slightly adjusting your yukata. Megumi glanced up, the moment his eyes met yours, a faint blush tinted his cheeks.

He cleared his throat. "It... suits you. You look... good."

He paused, his eyes lingering on you for a second longer. In the room's subdued light, his green eyes shimmered like emeralds. "You look too good for him, you know," he said. His words, barely more than a whisper.

Your heart pulsed. You knew you had been cruel to him. You could see it in the pain in his eyes. Yet he remained silent, offering his support as he always did, despite the numerous times you had hurt him. You felt guilty.

"You don't look so bad yourself," you said quietly.

Megumi stood tall in his yukata, the soft fabric draping gracefully, accentuating his athletic frame. It added an air of quiet elegance to his usual composed demeanor. You were so used to seeing him in his school uniform. The sight of his exposed, toned arms as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed, left you momentarily speechless.

Megumi offered a faint smile. Then he pushed himself off the wall and walked over to the door, "We should met up with the others in the lobby."

"Megumi, wait," you began. "I didn't have a chance to properly apologize to you."

He stopped, his hand on the door handle. "You don't have to."

"No," you insisted. "I really do. I've been unfair to you."

Megumi turned to face you, his expression softening. "Things got complicated. It's okay."

"Why are you so understanding? Why not angry with me?" you asked, feeling a knot in your stomach. "I wouldn't blame you if you were."

He searched your eyes for a moment, but didn't answer.

"Go ahead and punch me if you want to or something," you said seriously, trying to get some reaction from him other than 'understanding'.

Megumi sighed, a small smile playing on his lips. "You really do need a punch from time to time," he joked. He walked over to you. You felt your heart pounding against your chest as he leaned in closer. His breath warm against your skin. "Just promise me that if Gojo screws up, you'll give me a chance."

Your breath hitched. "I would give you a thousand chances."

"I know. I see it," his lips softly brushed against your cheek. "I see that you love me, but you love him more, don't you?"

You closed your eyes for a fleeting second, allowing yourself to feel the tenderness of his touch. It was a bittersweet realization. Yes, you loved Megumi—a genuine affection that couldn't be denied. But you also recognized the harsh truth. Your heart was irrevocably drawn to Satoru—in a way that defied simple explanation. If there were an explanation for love at all.

A knock on the door shattered the stillness.

Maki's voice echoed through the door. "You guys ready for the hot springs?"

****

Later that day, you all gathered in the dining hall of the ryokan for dinner. The air was filled with the delicious aroma of a traditional Japanese dinner spread out before you—sashimi, tempura, grilled fish, and an array of vegetables.

Yuji had everyone in stitches. His laughter echoing through the hall. Yuta shared stories from his time abroad, each tale more intriguing than the last. Nobara and Maki, meanwhile, seemed to have made it their mission to sample every variety of sake available. Their laughter growing louder and more carefree with each round.

The evening felt surreal in its normalcy. Friends having dinner. Friends having fun.

It seemed all too fleeting.

Your eyes settled on Megumi. There was an uncommon detail about him that caught your eye. It was a small, barely noticeable scar just beneath his right ear. His hair was still damp, losely comped back to reveal his neck. The scar must normally be concealed by his hair.

He caught your gaze. You quickly looked away.

As the night wore on, the group began to thin. Maki and Nobara excused themselves first, mentioning they would take a nap and return later for the New Year's fireworks. You felt tired too, but you didn't want to miss any of those rare moments of normalcy. Their departure left you, Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji at the table.

Yuji had dozed off at some point. His head resting on his arms on the table. Every so often, he would mumble something incoherent, eliciting a soft chuckle from the rest of you.

Yuta shared stories of his travels. His words painted vivid pictures of distant lands and fierce battles, captivating Megumi and you.

As the night deepened, a comfortable silence settled over the table. You looked at Megumi, who was quietly sipping his tea, his slender hands arranged beautifully around the mug. There was a certain peace about him here—away from the usual chaos.

"Yuta," you said. "I never got the chance to properly thank you for coming along."

He smiled. "You don't need to thank me."

"I really do, It feels like I'm dragging everyone into my problems."

"We're teammates," he simply said, "That's what we do."

You let out a weary sigh. "You're all too kind."

Yuta leaned back, his gaze contemplative as he looked at you. "So, what's next for you? With everything that's been happening?"

You didn't want to think about it. Yet, talk about it. It was actually the least thing you wanted.

"I don't know."

Yuta's expression grew more serious. "No plan? Considering everything that's been happening, especially with the bounty on your head, you need one."

Huh?

What bounty?

What on earth was he talking about?

Megumi, equally surprised, interjected sharply. "There's a bounty?"

Yuta's eyes narrowed briefly. "You didn't know? There's a bounty on her, and they want her dead," he explained. "It's over 80 million yen. I thought Gojo would've told you."

You felt your stomach drop. Another lie. Another betrayal.

Megumi nearly choked on his tea. "That's—a lot."

"It's one of the highest bounties actually," Yuta added. "That's why I'm asking if you have any plans."

Megumi clenched his fists. "That bastard Gojo," he muttered under his breath. "He didn't say a word about this. This changes everything."

You remained silent. What was there to say, anyway?

It felt like watching a house of cards collapse, and you could do nothing but watch. It was awful. But more than anything, you were so, so tired. Every lie, every betrayal, it was like a punch to the gut, but you were too drained to even react.

Yuta leaned forward. "And the mole? Any idea who it could be?"

Megumi's brow furrowed in thought. "The mole... he's been a step ahead of us, leaking crucial information. It's as if he's always watching, always one move ahead. They might also know we're here."

Your heart raced.

"He?" you asked, too calm for the storm that was beginning to build inside you. "Do you know who it is?"

Megumi turned to you. His eyes told you that he had just spilled something he shouldn't have said.

No.

Not him.

Not another betrayal.

"We suspect someone, but—"

"But what?" you pressed, your suspicion growing.

He hesitated, then sighed. "It's Jack."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Jack?"

Satoru said he was no threat. He said he was not worried about him. Was that another lie? Did he know all along?

"Please let me explain—," Megumi began.

You felt a crushing weight on your chest. You thought you were part of a team, a family, but now you weren't even sure what or whom to believe. The trust broken. In that moment, you realized how alone you truly felt. Surrounded by friends, but isolated by lies. Not even Megumi. Could you not even trust him?

Another fucking betrayal.

It was all too overwhelming. You had to get out of here, to push it all away, if only for a moment. Without a word you suddenly stood up, the chair scraping against the floor.

"I need some air."

The crisp night air hit your face as you stepped outside, cold air filling your lungs. Megumi followed you, his footsteps crunching softly in the snow.

"Leave me alone, Megumi," you didn't want to face anyone right now, least of all someone who understood you as well as Megumi did.

"Talk to me."

"I don't want to talk," you shot back.

Yet, he persisted.

"Talk to me."

You spun around, the frustration and hurt evident in your eyes. Tears welled up, threatening to spill over as you gazed at the person who had always been your most trusted friend. "Since when did you know?"

Megumi hesitated. "Gojo told me after the battle on Christmas Eve."

"What? Since when did he know?"

"He suspected since Shinjuku. After the attack on you, he interrogated him."

Shinjuku.

Satoru knew for months.

The night seemed even colder now.

"I wanted to tell you," he said.

"Then why didn't you?"

"It's complicated."

"Everything is always complicated with you and Satoru," you snapped.

Megumi's expression shifted. "When was the right time? When you were locked away in your room, or perhaps at dinner, surrounded by everyone?"

"Now it's my fault?"

"No. No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to—"

Before either of you could say more, the sky erupted in colors. Fireworks, distant and cruelly beautiful, painted the night like a canvas. Yet, Megumi's gaze remained fixed on you. The reflections of the fireworks flickered in Megumi's eyes, softening the hard lines of his face. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.

He looked so beautiful that night. So sad. But all you wanted to do was punch him straight in the face. These stupid men. All they did was hurt you, 'protecting' you, as they said. But, God, you'd had enough.

"You should probably find another room to sleep in tonight," you said, more calmly than you felt. You turned to head back inside as the fireworks continued to light up the sky.

Megumi watched you go.

****

"Is everything okay between you and Fushiguro?" Nobara's question cut through the silence.

"Everything's great," you muttered.

"Did he try to kiss you or something?" Maki asked, half-joking yet curious.

"No."

Nobara and Maki walked alongside you, exchanging glances.

The crisp, cool air brushed against your cheeks as you and the others made your way to the local shrine for the first visit of the new year. As you approached, the scent of incense grew stronger, blending with the smell of street food from nearby vendors. However, despite the festivity, a certain uneasiness hung in the air—the tension between you and Megumi hard to miss.

"You guys totally missed out on the fireworks," Yuji interjected.

"Yeah, such a shame," Nobara replied. "We were just too tired."

"You missed them too, Yuji," you pointed out, as if he had forgotten that he had spent the whole night sleeping on the table.

"Yeah, I did," Yuji admitted, scratching his head. "Were they good? Did you guys see them?"

"No."

Yuji looked back at Megumi, who was walking a few steps behind. "What about you, Fushiguro? Did you catch the fireworks?" Megumi met Yuji's question with a silent, icy stare, confirming that something was definitely off.

"What's going on with you two?" Yuji asked, his eyes flicking between you and Megumi.

As you approached the shrine, the crowd thickened. Brightly colored lanterns hung from the trees, and laughter filled the air. Families in colorful kimonos, young couples, and groups of friends gathered to celebrate the first day of the new year.

"Let's draw our fortunes," Nobara suggested, trying to break the uneasiness.

Each of you took turns shaking the box and drawing a stick with a number that corresponded to your fortune at a nearby stall.

Yuji's face lit up as he read his fortune. "Great blessing! This year's gonna be awesome!"

Nobara rolled her eyes. "Small blessing," she read aloud. "Could be worse."

Maki, after reading her fortune, simply shrugged, not giving away whether it was good or bad.

When it was your turn, you shook the box and drew a stick. The crisp paper unfolded in your hands, revealing the characters for "Bad Fortune."

You've got to be kidding me, right?

Nobara peered over your shoulder. "Well, look at it this way, as if things could get any worse for you."

"A little bad luck is nothing for you!" Yuji chimed in.

Your lips twitched into a half-smile. "You guys are really something."

Yuta stepped forward to draw his omikuji next, pulling a slender stick from the box.

"Well, Yuta? What does it say?" Yuji asked eagerly, trying to peek over his shoulder.

Yuta turned the paper so everyone could see. "Good Fortune."

Nobara clapped her hands together. "See! That balances it out. Good and bad fortune in the group. We're set!"

Megumi was last. He shook the box and drew his fortune. His expression remained unreadable as he read the slip of paper. He didn't share what it said. You hoped it was positive.

Nobara then led the group towards the main hall of the shrine, where people gathered to offer prayers for the new year. But Yuta held you back. His hand around your wrist, his grip firm but not forceful. "Can we talk for a moment?"

You paused and turned to find Yuta's gaze locked onto you with an intensity that felt almost invasive. You felt a sudden knot from in your stomach. Talking was the last thing you wanted at that moment, but something in his expression suggested this wasn't a question to say no to.

You nodded and followed him as he led you away from the crowd. You began to walk along the snow-covered paths of the shrine. The stillness of the winter air only broken by the soft crunch of the snow beneath your feet.

After a few moments, Yuta finally broke the silence. "Have you ever heard of the prophecy of your family's clan?"

Wait.

What?

How did he know?

You turned to him, searching his face for clues.

"Gojo told me," he added quickly, his eyes briefly meeting yours before returning to the snow-covered path ahead.

Of course, he had. He told apparently everyone everything. Except you.

He never told you anything.

"The prophecy is just a myth," you replied. "Nothing but stories from a time long gone."

Yuta's expression remained serious. "It's said that the Fujiwara clan could either bring great prosperity or doom."

"The Fujiwara could do nothing. They were arrogant. They were greedy, and in the end, they were crushed by Sukuna. That's the reality," you said.

"Nevertheless, the Fujiwara clan was influential and powerful," Yuta continued, undeterred.

"But I'm not a Fujiwara. I have my father's name, who wasn't part of the clan. I have no connection to them."

"You carry their blood, their cursed technique. That's enough reason for people to be terrified," Yuta explained. "They believe you'll follow a path of destruction like your ancestors."

"You mean the higher-ups?"

"Yeah, they've set the bounty on your head."

You couldn't help but find that ironic. "They've put a bounty on the head of a person who couldn't even use that cursed technique they're so afraid of."

"Paranoia and greed for power blind them. In their eyes, your mere potential is a threat," Yuta continued.

"I know they're after me, Yuta," you said, stopping in your tracks.

"But you don't know the whole story," he also paused and turned to you. His expression grave. You waited for him to continue.

"It's true they put the bounty on your head, but before that, they've sent Gojo to kill you."

Your heart seemed to stop.

"What?" You exclaimed, the words escaping your lips louder than you intended, drawing the curious gazes of nearby onlookers. Yuta swiftly scanned the surroundings before gesturing for you to follow him again.

"Gojo was initially ordered to kill you because of your bloodline," he said again, as if it hadn't been clear the first time. "But he didn't, as you can see. Instead, he brought you to Jujutsu High."

"Why?"

He looked at you briefly, his eyebrow raised. "You know why."

Your mind raced. Yet your heart raced faster.

"From the moment you entered the school, Gojo took it upon himself to train you and put you under his personal protection. The higher-ups were furious, to say the least, and it didn't help that he threatened to burn the school down if anyone laid a hand on you. So in return, they limited his powers, suspended him, and cut off his resources."

"They wanted him gone," you whispered more to yourself than to Yuta.

Yuta nodded.

Wait.

Back then, when he distanced himself from you?

When he was suspended?

When he was worried about your relationship becoming public?

When he nearly went insane trying to help you control your cursed technique?

When he watched over you day and night?

It was all because—

"When you first lost control of your cursed technique, it triggered an uproar. Gojo assured the higher-ups that if you ever turned against them, he'd handle the situation himself. But as you can imagine, they had little trust in a man who had fallen in love. So instead, they set the bounty on your head, effectively making you a target for the entire world. I wouldn't be surprised if they also helped the mole in some way," Yuta continued.

Your stomach turned.

The thought of him fighting on so many fronts at once, while you struggled to get your shit together and learn to control your cursed technique, almost made you vomit. How stupid your problems seemed compared to what he had to deal with all the time.

And all you had done was accuse him of seeing ghosts in you—accuse him of not really loving you. When in fact, everything he did was out of love for you.

You had been angry at him for his secrets, his lies, his overbearing self. But now?

Now you couldn't be angry at him. Not anymore.

You missed him awfully.

Damn it, Satoru.

Why did he never tell you any of this?

"In short, they've turned the world against you, hoping that the problem would resolve itself without their direct intervention—without having to deal with Gojo specifically," Yuta explained as he came to a stop before the shrine.

Your thoughts had consumed you to the point that you hadn't even noticed that you had circled back to the shrine where the others were.

"With such a large bounty on your head, it was only a matter of time before alliances were formed. After all, your name is well known. And the Fujiwara clan had many enemies," Yuta added.

"So, that sorcerer who poisoned me back then—"

"He might have belonged to a rival clan of the Fujiwara," Yuta speculated.

"The clan is long dead. Why come after me now, after all these years?" you pondered aloud.

"Hate runs deep," Yuta simply replied.

As Nobara, Yuji, Maki, and Megumi emerged from the shrine, you caught sight of Nobara waving in your direction. You waved back at her over Yuta's shoulder.

"Why are you telling me all this, Yuta? I'm pretty sure Satoru specifically told you not to."

Yuta couldn't help but chuckle. "You're right, he did. But you know, Gojo has his own way of dealing with problems. He thinks he's protecting you by keeping you in the dark. But I'm pretty sure his way of dealing with things only leads to the two of you trying to kill each other at some point. I kinda like you, so I can't stand by and let that happen."

Your lips curved into a small smile. "Thank you, Yuta," you said as Nobara and the rest of the group caught up to you.

Nobara casually slung her arm around your shoulders. "What were you two talking about?" she asked with a playful tone.

"Nothing really," Yuta replied quickly.

Nobara raised an eyebrow at Yuta's response, clearly not buying it. She exchanged a curious look with Maki.

Yuji eventually spoke up. "I'm getting kinda hungry. Should we grab something to eat?"

Yuta nodded in agreement. "Sounds like a plan."

After leaving the shrine site and making your way towards the city, you walked along a quiet path, surrounded by the tranquility of the countryside. The snow-covered landscape stretched out before you, creating a serene backdrop.

Yuji's stomach growled audibly. "Man, I can't wait to eat."

Nobara rolled her eyes. "Yuji, we had breakfast barely two hours ago."

"Sounds like the perfect time for another—," Yuji begann but he was cut short.

In an instant, the atmosphere shifted. A shiver ran down your spine as you sensed his presence behind you. You turned, your eyes meeting an all too familiar face standing just a few feet behind you.

Before anyone could react, Yuta's hand snapped out, grabbing Jack by the nape of his neck and slamming his face into the ground. Megumi quickly pulled you behind him, standing protective in front of you.

Yuta drew his katana and let it hover dangerously at Jack's neck—ready to behead him at any second. Jack looked up, blood running freely down his chin. His nose had broken.

"I'm here to warn you, you bastards," Jack strained out, spitting a fragment of tooth onto the ground.

Megumi's eyes narrowed. "Warn us? About what?"

"I can help you," Jack insisted. "There's a group of special grade curses heading this way, led by someone named Mahito."

"Mahito?" Yuji repeated.

"Yeah, and more. If you don't leave now, you'll be overrun."

"Why should we believe a word you say?" Nobara cut in sharply.

"The curses," Jack gasped, struggling for breath under Yuta's force, "—they've allied with sorcerers who want her dead. They're coming for you, Fujiwara."

You couldn't help but flinch at the mention of your family name—all eyes suddenly on you.

"You're from to the Fujiwara clan?" Maki asked.

"I'm not," you quickly corrected. "I mean, not really."

"Why are you telling us this now?" Yuta's voice cut through, still focused on Jack.

"Because I've been betrayed," Jack spat. "Mahito gathered powerful curses and sorcerers under false pretenses. The curses don't want her dead; they want to use her for some fucked up plan."

"What plan?" you asked over Megumi's shoulder.

"They plan to use you to kill Gojo and release Sukuna."

The group fell silent.

"My clan was part of their alliance," Jack continued, "—but when we learned their true intent, we backed out. We wouldn't be mere pawns for these curses. They turned on us, attacked us. I barely managed to escape with my life. You can choose to believe me or not, but if you stay, you're all as good as dead."

Yuta hesitated for a moment, then slowly lifted his katana from Jack's neck.

Jack straightened up, wiping blood from his mouth. "You need to get out of here. I'm not sure if Gojo can make it in time. These curses and their sorcerer allies—they're not here for a fight. They're here for her," he nodded towards you.

"What? Wait—Satoru's coming?" you asked.

"I got word to him. Told him everything. But who knows if he'll make it in time."

"You're talking to Gojo?" Megumi asked. It seems as if he didn't know that himself.

"Yeah," Jack spat. "Turns out your lovely bastard of a teacher forced me to spy on my own people—used me against my own people."

You had to suppress the urge to slam his face down again for insulting Satoru.

"Listen, I don't like you. I want you dead," his voice hardened as he addressed you. "But believe me when I say I don't want to see Sukuna alive again." He pushed himself up, wincing slightly. "There's no time to waste. They'll be here soon."

Your blood suddenly ran cold. You turned and frantically scanned your surroundings, panic gripping your heart. You felt an overwhelming presence heading your way, a distant rumbling that grew louder and louder, each thud echoing through the air.

"What's that?" Nobara asked.

Your breath caught in your throat, a cold sweat breaking out across your skin.

Fuck.

"It's Mahito," Yuji said. His fists clenched at his sides.

"You need to leave. Now," Jack coughed.

"We can't just run," Maki said. "We should fight."

"No, the risk is too high. We have no idea what we're up against," Megumi interjected, his hand searching for yours as he spoke. You took it, his fingers gently intertwining with yours as he pulled you closer to him.

Maki took a challenging step towards Megumi. Her eyes flashed. "So we retreat like cowards?"

Yuta stepped forward between them. "There's a place we can go. One of Gojo's hideouts—it's off the grid, hardly known to anyone."

"What? Gojo has a damn safe house?" Nobara interjected.

"Yeah," Yuta confirmed. "It's secluded, protected by barriers. We can regroup there and plan our next move."

Megumi's brow furrowed. "How do we know Gojo will be there?"

"Gojo ordered me to head there if anything went wrong. I'm sure he'll be there," Yuta said.

Of course, Satoru had a plan. He always does. Satoru was always in control.

But wait.

"They're after me," your voice cut sharply through the chaos. "I'll go there. Alone. The rest of you should head back to Jujutsu High."

Nobara was quick to object. "You can't be serious! We're coming with you!"

"Nobara, I can't drag you all into this again. Please, for once, just—listen to me."

"We can't just leave you here—"

Yuta cut off Nobara's words. "She's right. The less we are the better our chances we won't get caugth. Kugisaki, Zenin, Fushiguro, Itadori—head back to the school. I'll go with her."

You turned to Yuta. "You too, Yuta. You should go with them." But the look he gave you told you that Satoru had most likely ordered him to stay by your side.

Nobara opened her mouth to argue, but you cut her off. "Please, Nobara." She frowned, but nodded reluctantly.

Suddenly, a deep rumbling vibrated through the ground. Your gaze dropped to your feet, where cracks appeared in the snow-covered earth. The air thickened in an instant, each breath becoming more torturous.

Your gaze locked with Megumi's. "You need to go with them."

"I'm not leaving without you," he insisted, almost crushing your hand in his grip.

Yuta's eyes darted towards the direction of the increasing rumble. "We need to move, now," he urged.

Frustration and fear surged within you. "Megumi, please, you must. Keep them safe for me." But his hold remained unyielding.

"Fushiguro, we're out of time!" Maki shouted, already retreating with the others.

"I'll never forgive myself if anything happens to you," Megumi said, his expression torn.

"I know, and I love you for it," you said, your voice trembling. "But you have to go. Now."

Still, Megumi's grasp held firm.

The distant sounds of chaos drew nearer. Time was running out.

Words were useless.

You stepped closer to Megumi, your heart pounding in your chest. Without a word, you leaned in, taking his face in your hands, and kissed him. His body tensed in shock, his eyes widening. His lips felt so soft against yours. You never imagined what kissing him would feel like, but it was definitely better than you could have ever imagined.

Megumi's initial shock gave way to an intense response, his lips moving against yours with a craving you hadn't anticipated. Nor did you expect his lips to fit yours so well. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, fingers digging into your back, as if afraid that this moment might slip away. You almost lost yourself in his embrace.

Just as his tongue threatened to deepen the kiss even further, you focused again. You forced yourself to break away, fully aware that you wouldn't be able to resist him—or that you didn't want to.

Your eyes met his. "I love you, Megumi. But sometimes you're such an idiot," you whispered softly. With a quick, precise motion, you applied a distinct pressure to the carotid artery in his neck. Megumi's eyes fluttered, and his body went limp, succumbing to unconsciousness in your arms.

"Yuji, can you help me out here," you called out. Yuji quickly approached, hoisting an unconscious Megumi onto his shoulders. Turning to Yuji, you added, "Tell him I'm sorry."

Yuji raised an eyebrow. "Since when can you do that?"

"It's not really the time for explanations, Yuji," you replied shortly. "No go."

With a nod, Yuji, with Megumi over his shoulders, joined the others who were about to leave the site.

You turned away, the lingering taste of Megumi's kiss still on your lips. With a heavy heart, you cast one last glance back at him. Your chest tightened. The cold air burned your cheeks, but the pain of leaving him behind was far more agonizing.

You followed Yuta through the winding paths, his movements swift and sure. Somehow, you couldn't shake the feeling that Yuta had known what would happen all along.

That Satoru had known what would happen all along.

****

"A beach house? Really?" you remarked. "This is Gojo's idea of a hideout?"

It was almost midnight when Yuta and you finally approached the so-called 'safe house' of Satoru. But it was not the secluded cabin or fortress you might have expected for a hideout. Instead, it was a modern beach house with a panoramic view of the ocean. Its sleek lines and expansive windows reflecting the moonlight as you approached.

It was nestled on a lonely stretch of beach, an hour south from Osaka, away from prying eyes and the hustle of the city. It was the literal opposite of the chaos you had just escaped.

Yuta chuckled softly. "Did you expect anything less from him? It's Gojo, after all. He never does things by halves."

A fucking beach house.

Exhaustion clung to both of you like a heavy cloak. But all you wanted was to see him. You hoped so desperately that he would be here. Your heart craved him so much—to see him, to feel him, to kiss him. But as you approached the house, it was dark inside. Your heart felt heavy again.

The inside of the house was equally impressive. Modern architecture, an open living space, and expensive furniture. It was more akin to a holiday retreat than a hideout. Certainly not suitable for the reason you were here.

Yuta led you through the house, checking each room methodically for any signs of danger. Once satisfied, he relaxed slightly, though the katana never left his side.

"Gojo probably has more hideouts like this scattered around," Yuta mused as he peered out the window, his gaze scanning the horizon. "But this one—it's special. He's particularly fond of it."

"Why's that?" you asked him, wandering over to the glass wall to take in the view of the beach. The moon cast its silver glow over the waves.

Yuta joined you, his eyes reflecting the moonlit sea. "He just bought it recently. Said it was for someone special." The room was quiet for a moment, the sound of waves gently lapping against the shore the only sound.

For a fleeting moment, you wondered for whom Satoru had bought this house for, but you quickly dismissed the thought. "We need to find a charging cable," you said, abruptly turning to rifle through the cupboard doors.

Both of your phones had died on the way here and you had no idea what had happened to the others. You wondered where they were, if they were safe. If Megumi was safe. If he was angry with you.

"Got one," Yuta announced, pulling a charging cable out of the cabinet. You moved towards him to plug in your phone when suddenly a beam of light pierced the night, illuminating the driveway leading to the beach house.

Satoru.

You could sense him. No doubt.

You didn't hesitate. Rushing towards the door, you flung it open and stepped out into the cool night air. Your heart pounded as you saw a familiar car pull up, the headlights illuminating the sand and the snow around. The engine cut, and the door opened.

Satoru Gojo stepped out, his hair slightly disheveled from the wind, his usual sunglasses in place. His striking blue eyes found you immediately, a faint smile playing on his lips. He closed the door and began walking towards you.

Your heart raced. Without a word, you stepped up to him and slapped him across the face. The sound echoed in the quiet night. "Don't you dare ever lie to me again," you said.

Satoru didn't flinch at the slap. Instead, he looked at you, his blue eyes softening. "I've missed you too," he said, the corners of his lips curling upwards. In an instant, Satoru closed the distance between you. His hand wrapped around your waist, gently but firmly, pulling you close. The world seemed to stop when his lips met yours.

It was soft at first, then more urgent as his lips explored every curve and contour, as if he had never kissed you before. His tongue traced your lips before delving in. You tasted the hint of mint on his breath, mixed with something uniquely Satoru, a taste that made your head spin. You found yourself melting into the kiss, responding with equal fervor.

Need surged through you—needing to be closer—erasing every inch of space that kept you apart. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that left no doubt that he felt the same. He kissed you as if trying to bridge the gap of time and distance that had separated you for far too long. Pouring every unspoken word and emotion into the caresses.

"Fuck—I've missed you—so—much," he murmured against your lips, each word punctuated with another passionate kiss. His hands slid up your back, pulling you even closer, if that was possible. He caught your bottom lip between his—a hungry bite that sent shivers down your spine and forced you to stifle a moan. "Missed you too," you breathed out, barely able to get the words out between the fervent dance of your tongues.

The world around you—the sound of the waves, the rustle of the wind, the distant lights of the beach house—all faded into irrelevance. There was only Satoru, his arms wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours, his heart beating in sync with your own. It felt so fucking good to be with him again. It almost made you cry.

In one smooth motion, he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. "God, you're driving me insane," he muffled against your lips before claiming your mouth as his once more. Your hands found their way into his hair, fingers weaving through the silvery strands, gripping him as if you never wanted to let go.

You felt every contour of his body against yours, the firmness of his muscles, the hurried rise and fall of his chest. "Satoru," his name escaped your lips in a moan, blending seamlessly into the heated kiss.

"Ahem."

The moment was abruptly broken by a subtle but clear throat-clearing from Yuta, reminding you both of the world beyond.

Startled, you and Satoru parted slightly, though he continued to hold you up in his arms. You both turned towards Yuta, who stood a respectful distance away, an awkward yet knowing look on his face. "Maybe we should—talk inside," he suggested.

Gently, Satoru set you back on the ground. He placed a kiss on your forehead before resting his own against yours, his breath mingling with yours. "Yeah, we should go inside," he murmured, his voice barely rising above the sound of the waves. You remained like that for a few heartbeats before his stance subtly changed.

"Why didn't you come to the airport?" he suddenly asked.

You took a small step back to meet his gaze, raising an eyebrow.

"I've sent you a million messages telling you to get to the airport. I even arranged a private jet for you," he explained, as if sending jets was an everyday occurrence.

"You sent a fucking private jet for us?"

"Yes, I was at the airport waiting for you. How on earth did you get here anyway?"

Rolling your eyes, you released a weary sigh. "Don't ask," you quickly said, not wanting to explain what a pain in the ass it was to get here without anyone seeing you, when somewhere at the airport a fucking private jet was waiting for you.

****

"So that's how it went," Satoru mused, more to himself than anyone else. Satoru leaned back against the kitchen counter, his gaze distant as he pondered the situation. You sat next to him on the counter, fighting to keep your eyes open. The day had been long and draining, and it was really starting to show.

"Who would've thought Jack would end up on our side?" Yuta, seated across from you, remarked. "We can't be sure how many sorcerers are truly aligned with Mahito at this point," he crossed his arms. "But I suspect not many will continue to follow him once they realize his true intentions."

"I wouldn't be so sure," you said. "You haven't seen the way they look at me. The sorcerer who poisoned me—I doubt they're unaware of the curses' true motives. They want me dead, regardless of the consequences. I guess they're using the curses to kill me out just as much as the curses are using them to get me. It's just about who gets me first."

Satoru flinched slightly at your words. He turned to face you, his piercing blue eyes intense even in the dim kitchen light.

"Do you intend to kill them?" Yuta's question was direct.

Before Satoru could respond, you interjected, "No, we won't." The room went quiet, all eyes on you. "We inform them of Mahito's true intentions. If they still oppose us, then we will fight them. But we won't kill sorcerers, just because they are blinded by hate."

Satoru pushed off from the counter, beginning to pace slowly. "I've killed sorcerers for far less," he muttered, his voice edged with a familiar coldness.

"We need allies, not enemies. If we can convince even a fraction of them of the real threat, it might tilt the scales in our favor," you insisted.

Satoru's pacing stopped, and faced you. "So, you plan to negotiate with them?"

"What other choice do we have?" you countered.

Yuta leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Let me handle it."

The room fell silent, Satoru and you both turning to Yuta in surprise. "You?"

"Let me negotiate with the clans," Yuta persisted. "I've worked with some of them in the past, maybe I can get them to drop their grudge against you."

"No, Yuta," you said. "I don't want you to put yourself in danger for me."

He chuckled lightly. "What's our alternative? It's either me or you and Satoru. And really, one of you is their main target and the other one is ready to kill them in an instant. I'm much more diplomatic than both of you."

Perhaps you should be offended by his words. But he was right.

"He's not wrong," Satoru admitted.

Your thoughts were abruptly shattered by the shrill ring of your phone. You spun around, heart racing, as you saw Megumi's name flashing on the screen.

Snatching the phone, you answered, "Megumi??"

"Oh thank God, are you safe? Did you reach Gojo's hideout? We've been trying to reach you," Megumi's voice was full of concern.

"I'm fine, I'm safe, Megumi. Sorry, our phones died. But don't worry about me."

You heard him release a heavy exhale over the phone. "You don't know how worried I was."

"And you? Did you make it back to the school all right?"

"Yeah, we're back, everyone's fine here. Don't worry."

You paused for a few seconds before you spoke. "Megumi, about earlier, I'm sorry—"

"I know. Don't apologize. It's okay. Getting knocked out with a kiss from you isn't the worst thing," he cut you off.

You couldn't help but smile. Suddenly he asked, "Are you with Gojo?"

"Yes, I am," you whispered.

The silence that followed was painful, every second torturous.

After a moment, Megumi's voice returned, firmer this time. "Tell Gojo to keep you safe, or I'll kill him."

"I think he knows that already," you replied, your eyes briefly glancing towards Satoru.

"You should go to sleep. It's late. Don't worry about us. We're safe within the school walls," Megumi said, his tone softening. "And you—you're safe with him."

"I know."

"You should be with him," he added, his voice low, almost inaudible.

"I know."

"Sleep well," Megumi said finally. The call ended.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself. But it was in vain. The weight and exhaustion of the day became unbearable.

They're safe within the school's walls, you tried to reassure yourself. But the bitter truth was that they were only safe when you weren't there. And this realization pierced your heart like a razor blade. It tore through you, unleashing a deep, searing pain that felt almost unbearable.

You felt your eyes burning. Hastily, you rubbed your eyes, before turning back to face Satoru and Yuta again. Yet, Satoru's eyes immediately caught the tears that threatened to spill from yours.

"I can't go back. I can't see them," you whispered. Speaking the truth aloud made it even more agonizing, each word like a fresh new wound in your flesh.

"No, you can't. We both can't," Satoru said gently.

Yuta broke the silence, his voice serious. "You should stay here until I've spoken to the clans. It'll be easier to plan our next move against Mahito without additional sorcerers complicating things."

Stay here.

Away from everyone else, who are back in Tokyo.

How did everything come to this?

Separated from your friends. From your home. But it wasn't really your home. Not anymore. You weren't safe there. Weren't safe anywhere. Your heart went cold.

You averted your gaze, your hands trembling. Tears threatened to spill over. In a heartbeat, Satoru appeared by your side and wrapped his arms around you. His chin rested gently on your head as you clung to him. You were on the edge, your emotions welling up inside you, unable to contain them any longer.

Yuta, his brow knitted in thought, pondered aloud. "But this plan to use her to resurrect Sukuna—what could it possibly mean?"

Yuta's voice felt distant, your mind consumed by something else entirely. "Satoru," you muffled against his chest. "I can't go back. I can't see them. I can't—," you buried your face even deeper into his chest, fingers desperately clutching the fabric of his shirt. "I can't see them."

Satoru's embrace tightened around you, his voice dropping to a whisper, meant only for you, "I know, love. I'm sorry."

Meanwhile, Yuta delved deeper into his theories. "Is there something about her cursed technique that we've overlooked?"

"We'll figure this out. We always do," Satoru whispered close to your ear. He gently stroked the back of your head, trying to calm your trembling form.

Yuta pressed on with his analysis. "And if we consider the implications of their plan to resurrect Sukuna, it's clear that—"

"Okkotsu," Satoru interjected, his tone sharp.

Yuta, finally catching the cue, paused and looked up. It dawned on him when he saw you silently crying in Satoru's arms.

"We should call it a day," Satoru said to him.

****

The next day, you woke up late, the sunlight already streaming through the curtains. Stretching, you glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was already past noon.

Fuck.

How long had you slept?

And why did no one wake you?

You groaned. Your head hurt. Reluctantly, you slipped out of bed, still feeling the exhaustion of the previous day in your bones. Heading downstairs, your eyes wandered around the house. Yuta and Satoru were nowhere to be found.

You moved to the kitchen and immediately noticed the pleasant scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air, drawing a small smile to your lips. Satoru must have made it for you. You poured yourself a cup from the coffee pot, feeling the warmth in your hands.

Glancing out the window, your eyes found Satoru on the porch. He was engaged in pull-ups, his muscles rippling and flexing with each movement under his tight-fitting shirt. Sipping your coffee, you watched him in silence. Then, he turned, his eyes meeting yours, and he flashed a warm smile.

Your smile widened in response. It was so normal. Him and you here. It felt like your problems and all that sorcery shit didn't exist in this world. In this house. You continued to sip your coffee, watching as he resumed his pull-ups.

Turning back to the kitchen, your gaze fell upon a disheveled pile of papers scattered across the counter. As you picked up the top sheet, you realized they were notes—detailed notes about the current situation, plans, and theories about the Mahito's next moves.

He really planned this from the start, you thought. Satoru knew everything from the start.

Then your gaze fell on a certain piece of paper. More specifically, a certain contract. A house purchase contract. With your name on it.

"Good morning, sleepy princess," Satoru's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He stepped into the house, his hair slightly damp, probably from sweat.

You turned to face him, holding up the piece of paper. "Satoru, this better be a joke."

"What?" He shut the door behind him.

"Don't play dumb, Satoru." You waved the contract.

He glanced at the paper in your hand, his expression unfazed. "What about it?"

"It's got my name on it."

"I see that."

"Why?"

Satoru crossed the kitchen and leaned against the counter, his eyes meeting yours. "Because it's yours," he said simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Your frustration boiled over, evident in the way you crumpled the paper in your hand. "Satoru, you can't just go around buying houses for me!"

Satoru stepped closer, his hands prying the crumpled paper from your tight grip. "Easy, love, that's the original. I don't have another copy."

"But—why?"

"No copy machine."

"No—that's not what I mean, Satoru. Why did you buy this house for me?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Thought you'd like it."

You stared at him. Lost for words.

He moved closer, his eyes suddenly darkening. "Come on, just accept it," he whispered, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair from your shoulder. He leaned in, his lips grazing your neck with a series of kisses. His breath, warm and teasing against your skin, sent shivers down your spine. "Think of it as a strategic retreat."

"And that strategic retreat had to be a house on the beach," your protest was half-hearted, quickly losing strength as he pressed you back against the counter. Your spine curved, hands gripping the edge for support. His presence enveloped you. "As if you don't like it," he teased.

His fingers wove into your hair at the nape of your neck, forcing your head back. Your breath hitched in your throat at the way he looked at you—as if he wanted to devour you whole. Heat flooded your cheeks.

"Where's Yuta, by the way?" you managed to choke out, the words barely escaping your throat.

"He left early this morning," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. He leaned closer again, his lips tracing a path along your collarbone, each kiss further weakening your knees. You arched against him, waves of heat coursing through you at his every touch.

"Wait, what?" You tried to push him away, but he didn't budge.

"He wanted to return as soon as possible to begin negotiations with the other clans," he murmured close to your skin. A rush of heat flooded through you, an addictive wave that set every nerve on fire. His mouth continued its teasing along your collarbone, each movement a deliberate, sensual provocation. You bit your lip hard, fighting to hold back a moan.

"Why didn't he stay a longer? He didn't even say goodbye—," you exhaled.

Satoru abruptly pulled back, his eyes blazing. "I don't want to talk about Okkotsu right now," he declared. He then leaned in, his lips teasingly close to yours, hovering in a breathless moment of anticipation.

You wanted to protest, but—but—It was Satoru. There was no protest to him. But you needed to ask him something—something important—didn't you?

Before you could gather your thoughts, his lips crashed against yours. His tongue swept against yours in a fervent, urgent dance. You tilted your head to deepen the kiss, inviting him to explore further. He didn't hesitate, his movements quick and passionate around your mouth, leaving you breathless. His hands found their way to your waist, his fingers splaying against your skin.

"Did I tell you how fucking beautiful you look today?" he whispered between kisses, his breath warm against your lips. His words vibrated through you, sending your heart into a race.

He sank to his knees, his hands eagerly sliding your shirt up to trail kisses along your abdomen, his lips playfully ascending your skin. A sharp breath caught in your throat, and you threw your head back, overwhelmed by the intoxicating sensation of his tongue against your skin. You moaned, calling out his name in a fervent whisper.

"Fuck, I love it when you moan my name," he murmured, his voice laced with desire. In a swift, fluid motion, he positioned himself between your thighs. His lips found the delicate fabric of your shorts, pressing against you in a kiss filled with fervent urgency.

Your fingers clenched the counter so tightly, your knuckles turned white. Waves of pleasure, hot and relentless, spiraled through your stomach. Your hips instinctively sought his mouth, moving in rhythm with his touch. "Satoru, I—" Your words dissolved into the growing intensity of the moment.

Focus.

You needed to focus.

"What love?" he asked, his fingers deftly pushing the fabric aside, his mouth finding the bare skin beneath.

Fuck.

"Satoru, I—I need you to train me," you managed to say.

He stopped abruptly and pulled back, his eyes lifting to meet yours. "What?"

"Satoru, I need you to train me with my cursed technique."

"You already have control over your technique."

"Not like I need to," you insisted.

He furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I need to be good enough to kill him—," you said. "I want to kill Mahito."

➸ continue reading part eight

a/n: thanks for reading and have a lovely day or night! ♡

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #satoru gojo #satoru gojo smut

157 notes · View notes

spicedrobot · 5 months

Note

Obi wan is in charge of shepherding Maul back to the temple after a disastrous mission saw Maul lose his memories. However, Maul is left with strong, complicated emotions for his carer, which he doesn't not interpret as hate... Aka Obi-Wan can't make two steps without Maul flirting and trying to drag him into bed.

Commander Cody knew who the prisoner was before anyone mentioned him by name. He didn’t know how he knew, exactly. Rumors, perhaps. The GAR was created as the perfect fighting force, but they weren’t droids. They talked. And certainly General Kenobi had never mentioned this man, no matter how nebulous their relationship was. The general was too professional, too closed off, to bring up his past outside of facetious, off-handed comments that could always be more amusement than truth.

Cody decided, immediately, that the prisoner was ugly. Clawed head, clawed hands, clawed tattoos—everything about him was sharp, marked him as dangerous as a Thunian wart-hornet. He was prone to sneering and snarling, unwilling to be touched though he was in dire need of medical care. Left alone, he watched each medic warily as they checked his readouts and went about their business. That was another thing Cody didn’t understand. The prisoner was a Dathomirian zabrak, red with black tattoos, half metal, with an earring in his left ear. There was only one person he knew that matched that description. Only his eyes… they were a muted brown. A Sith’s eyes, Cody knew, were always yellow.

His unease only compounded when General Kenobi arrived. The general often looked tired, but now he looked exhausted. He had several burn marks peppering his roughspun robes and an angry, crimson wound across one cheek. His lip was also split, and a deep bruise darkened the underside of his jaw. Cody hadn’t been there when the ambush occurred. But he knew without a doubt that he could thank their new prisoner for every wound on the general. He unfurled his fist, unsure of when he had first tightened it.

“Thank you for holding down the fort, Commander,” General Kenobi said with a small smile. The expression was empty of its normal mirth. “I can take it from here.”

“General?” Cody replied.

But the man was already walking past him… past him, and towards the prisoner. Towards Darth Maul.

The general spoke the name that everyone had been avoiding, but the single syllable word went soft at the end, unsure.

The Sith’s dour expression evened out. A placid, neutral mask. He watched the general, unblinking. His nostrils flared once. Cody bristled. Was the zabrak… smelling him?

General Kenobi hesitated again. He stood a few steps away from Maul, watching, waiting. Cody watched too, hand balanced on his blaster. He knew how quickly Jedi could move, and Maul could move just as quick, judging from the poor state of the general.

The Sith made a sound, a long, low growl. Non-threatening. Considering. “I know you,” he said, at last. A pause, a moue. “Who are you?”

Jedi could be quiet. Eerily so. Cody had walked in on the general meditating, had entered a room a time or two, thinking—knowing—he was alone, only for the general to greet him. General Kenobi went just as quiet now. No movement, no breath, no blood through his veins.

A flicker. A shudder, so slight as to be unnoticed. He could hear the warmth in the general’s voice as he spoke.

“You’re injured. I can help, if you’ll let me.”

The Sith grimaced, but he didn’t show his teeth, didn’t coil tight with violence as he’d done before. He nodded, after a few beats, unfurling from the wall and easing himself to the edge of his cot.

Was Maul serious? This had to be some kind of trick. Then, Cody thought of his eyes, hard but dark. His obvious, steely confusion. How he had fought his medics, but hadn't hurt any of them.

Still, Cody took a step forward and to the side, keeping an open angle as General Kenobi approached. The general was unarmed. It didn’t mean he was helpless, but. The feeling in his gut kept churning. General Kenobi couldn’t possibly trust this man. He was more level-headed than General Skywalker, but Skywalker had learned his foolhardiness from somewhere. Cody had also witnessed General Kenobi in some highly avoidable situations, situations that he’d had to clean up himself. This, Cody thought, might be one of those.

The general perused the medkit that was next to Maul’s cot, abandoned by the first medic that had tried to treat him. While his head was turned, Maul’s nostrils flared again. His eyes were fixed on the general, his lips parted, expression lax.

“Will you show me where it hurts?” the general asked as he faced Maul. Wordlessly, the Sith slipped his robes off his shoulders.

Tattoos everywhere. Expected. But not the wounds, fresh and angry, burns that he knew matched the general’s. Cody hadn’t thought it was possible for a single opponent to go to toe to toe with him. He’d seen the general kill with effortless precision, a single swing of his saber, the curling of hand into fist. Maul, Cody realized, had been difficult for him to overcome.

The Sith had older wounds too, harder to see but no less present. And lower, where the man’s artificial midsection began, a mass of scar tissue so complete there was no unblemished skin left. A killing blow. But the man lived and breathed.

Cody felt sweat pebbling at his temple. If he shot to kill, would it even matter?

The general began to touch and prod. The Sith frowned then, but he didn’t fight, didn’t swear or snarl. The general asked Maul to lean back. To turn. Breathe in and out. Hand over the left side of his chest. Then lower, where a spleen would be on a human. The second heart, Cody knew, from the schematics they had pulled for treatment. Bacta was carefully applied, the perfect picture of field care. Were his legs in need of maintenance? The general assured him a droid would be by for inspection and repair.

Then, without hesitation, he touched the Sith’s jaw. The Sith let the press lead him, tilting his head to the side, neck long, exposed. His eyes were half-lidded by then, lips pursed. He had not flinched from the general’s touch. Not once.

The general held the Sith’s face, thumb balanced beneath the swell of his lower lip, while he administered the hypos. Cody knew his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him. He was alert, so keenly focused as if he was still on the battlefield.

The Sith was relaxed. He had leaned into the general’s grip. And the general had let him, had held him for a few moments longer than necessary. His thumb had even slid over his chin, once, before he withdrew.

It was bizarre. Inappropriate. It was a thousand things that burned and smarted and confused. The general never touched anyone outside of a friendly clap on the shoulder. Cody could not see the general’s face, nor did the general see his own.

He was glad for it.

Only his training, his unerring loyalty, kept him from turning away, kept his hand on his blaster still, though there was no longer a reason for it.

Not with the soft question that came again from the dark-eyed Sith, free of anger or threat.

“Who are you?”

The general told him. Quietly, the Sith repeated his name. Not general, not even Kenobi.

Obi-Wan.

This time, Cody looked away, and forced his hand from his weapon.

Next chapter ->

#asks #fics #obimaul #maulobi #en talks #darth maul #obi-wan kenobi #star wars #wwlwwg

232 notes · View notes

amuseoffyre · 5 months

Text

@triflesandparsnips made a rather spiffy observation on my post about Ed and face-touching:

It may be worthwhile, considering how much face/mouth violence Ed is sensitive to -- and when we see or hear about it -- to do a review of how much of that face sensitivity is also associated with food and eating.

And hooboy, I ended up down a rabbithole thinking about Ed and food and it got so long, it earned itself its own little post.

These are all the food/eating related moments that tie in directly to Ed having strong emotional responses. I didn't limit it to just the face-touching because there's a lot of emotional mess going on as well.

When Stede wakes him for brekkie in 1x04, he recoils immediately as he wakes, until he realises who's beside him (especially pertinent since Ed wakes in 2x03 and asks if anything was done to him while he was unconscious - he even anticipates harm while sleeping).

in 1x05, when he's being taught the intricacies of dining and the French captain slaps on his big red trauma button while he's sitting at a dining table and already feeling out of his depth with all the tablewear.

Cut to the flashback in 1x05 which has him and his mum talking quietly in one part of the room, but his father is there, slumped and drunk on the family dining table, setting the domestic sphere as a place of constant present threat.

Later in 1x05, when he's alone at the party, he's freaking out over not knowing how to deal with this kind of fancy-folk dining and then someone touches his face - double-whammy of the emotional stuff and the physical.

1x06 gives us the main flashback to his childhood and his father's violent reaction to 'slop' and 1x07 has stressed, out-of-his-comfort-zone hangry Ed, trying desperately to keep up the Blackbeard appearance ("Blackbeard can't be seen treasure hunting!") and again, something touches his body/head unexpectedly and he lashes out defensively.

There is so much going on in the brekkie scene that I can't even get into it here. Ed trying to code-switch between the way he interacts with Stede and Jack respectively, but most significantly, when Jack talks over him and ignores him trying to change the subject about violence he's done in the past, Ed shrinks down in the chair, doing the small-and-quiet thing he does when he's unhappy (one day I will yell about Ed taking refuge surrounding himself with gold/yellow things - blankets, chairs, robes, pillowforts. His version of the battle jacket).

1x10 has several moments. First is the marmalade - there's something child-like about the blanket fort and eating sweet sticky things with his fingers, taking comfort in food and hiding.

The second is something that is viscerally explained in S2 - when he forcefeeds Izzy his own toe. The contrast of the brutality and the very paternal "now don't forget to chew" like an adult talking to a child gave me chills the first time I watched it.

The last thing in 1x10 isn't necessarily food, but hooooboy there is something in the way he sets himself up at what was Stede's brekkie table, putting on the worst of personas possible, that is very much reminding me of his dad at the table in a bare, empty home, lit by a single candle, in that first flashback.

And now, into S2, and our man starts things in a totally healthy and normal way - eating the cake with his weapon. And, more importantly, "did everybody get cake?" Again, we have the juxtaposition of implicitly care-taking language against the surrounding violence and brutality.

The gravy basket tells us so much as well - he wakes up to the horror of being vulnerable, trapped by his own body and force-fed by someone who we learn had a habit of forcefeeding live crabs to people and who had threatened to flay Ed's skin off and feed it to him. He's rightfully afraid that anything Hornigold feeds him might be poisoned.

Once again, we have the parental energy of "open up for the cargo ship" tangled up with the fear of threat and violence and horror - poisoning, flaying and force-feeding.

Ed's fear has the two utterly bound up together, inescapably so. His father shaped his childhood and Hornigold stepped into that role when Ed became an outlaw.

But even in this messy and horrifying confrontation with his own psyche and layered up with the horrors he's lived through as a boy, some part of Ed still desperately wants the comfort and security of food and home, especially when the food his subconscious is gathering for him are the ingredients for Māori boil-up, something his mother would very likely have made for them.

It speaks measures that the three things he wants to live for include good food and warmth and orgasms. No fame. No glory. No reputation. Just to be loved and safe and warm and fed.

Jump forward to 2x04 and dinner with Bonny and Read. Ed is unsurprised by the degree of violence happening throughout, but does hesitate when poison comes into the equation - "I got the present you left for me in my glass" - Ed immediately sets down his glass, staring at it warily. Again, calling back to the Gravy Basket and his fear that anything given to him might be poisoned.

He's already on edge and off-balance - "not sure what's real and what's the basket" and there may or may not be poison and knives and the person he trusted may or may not betray him again and he's already spinning out when Anne - who had already declared her intention to provoke Ed and Mary - cheerfully lands the bombshell of why Stede left him.

No small wonder he storms out of the room, but it does lead to them having a much-needed conversation and he and Stede are on a much steadier footing after.

And then, of course, we have the breakfast of 2x07. This one is especially significant because Ed makes the brekkie then disposes of his leathers. He's actively trying to step from one mode of life to another, from the Blackbeard-and-Piracy into the domestic, softer life he's been quietly craving his entire life.

Only, as he says himself, "I don't think I've ever made regular breakfast for anyone before". He's trying, but it's something new and unfamiliar to him and it's "my way of saying thank you".

And lastly, we have the scene with the fisherman and his son where Ed has shoe-horned himself into what he thinks is the solution to all his problems and also includes a father-son dynamic, because our man can't do anything without his daddy issues rearing their ugly head.

Once again, Ed is out of his depth, but at the opposite end of the scale from the party ship. This is a place he thinks he should fit but he doesn't. This is the domesticity he craved, but without understanding or appreciating the real work that is needed to get there.

And once again, over a meal, he has an angry father expressing violence. "Control your pop-pop!" he tells the boy who is around the same age as he was when he killed his father. But he doesn't fight back, he doesn't strike out at Pop-pop, and the son steps between them and pulls his dad back several times.

And it's this father-figure's words that ring in Ed's ears when he realises Stede may be in danger. "If you were ever good at anything, do that". And if there's one thing Ed Teach is good at, it's fighting for the people he loves.

In conclusion our Mr. Teach wants a safe and comfortable home-life, with food and warmth (and orgasms), but he has no real experience of what that is really like or how to get it. His entire life has been a succession of threats and danger and men who would do harm to people in their charge, especially when they were unarmed, defenceless and vulnerable.

He doesn't know how to be safe yet, because he's never experienced it. All he's known until this point is a life of violence and danger and while he tried to move away from that, the violence and danger was still there - as Stede put it, there's no escaping it in their line of work.

But now, at the end of S2, for the first time in his life, he is actually able to say "No, I need to be away from piracy" because his whole journey through both seasons has been him trying and trying to step away from the life that has him by the throat.

And now, he's finally been able to do it and he's not alone. He has someone he's safe with and who is willing to do the work with him to help him figure things out. And give him good food, warmth and, of course, orgasms.

#ofmd #ofmd meta #ofmd thinkie thoughts #blackbeard #ed teach #long post

159 notes · View notes

ohraicodoll · 1 year

Note

ok but listen, feral!reader picking up ellie from the hospital with Joel...

God, they would slaughter together.

God help any motherfucker who stands in their way.

Violent Ends Joel Miller x f!Reader The Last of Us 2.6k Words/ 3rd POV Feral Reader Masterlist Summary: They find the Fireflies and one by one, the lights go out. Warning: Violence. Spoilers for TLOU Ep 9 and the end of TLOU Part 1.

The moment feels frozen in time, right before the flash grenade went off. It’d been a month since Denver. A month since finding both Ellie and Red in the snow, covered in blood. That desperation that had driven him awake and to his feet, driven him to walk through miles of icy wind and snow to find them, had all at once flooded out of him. Because they were alive and together and that’s all that had mattered.

It’d been hard dealing with all their wounds. Joel was still healing from the stab wound and had to be caught up to speed, his need to take over the role of caretaker making it hard for him to relax and rest. It didn’t help that Red was exhausted, injured, and they all needed taking care of. Ellie had murdered the man, David. Had gone through hell and back and was changed because of it. She had such awful nightmares those first couple of weeks. Nights where she would scream herself awake and when they went to hold her, she would thrash in their arms. Too many nights of either of them holding her, rocking her gently back to sleep like she was a baby. Unbelievable damage had been done to all of them and for once, Joel was finding himself being the one to try and to tug everyone out of the darkness. He tried what he could to remind the girl of the good, show her fond memories, get her to laugh or even just be a little shit. Too many late nights talking with the woman at his side about what to do about her. Too many long silences, the absence of constant chatter noticeable. There were moments when Ellie seemed fine again and then the next she was gone, eyes dark and glazed over. PTSD, Red had murmured. It was hard for her too. It’d been a long time since killing had affected her and she wasn’t sure what to do to comfort Ellie. They continued on to Salt Lake City. Something about finally reaching their destination, the end of this big journey, had felt too much and he was anxious. Ellie was determined, no matter how much he said they didn’t have to go through it with, to reach the Fireflies. No cans of Chef Boyardee or promises to teach her guitar or gentle ribbing deterred her. Just the promise that she would follow them wherever they wanted to go after the job was done. At the back of his mind, he remembered Red telling him that when the job was done, she may go her separate ways. But she didn’t bring it up again and he wasn’t going to be the one to remind her. He didn’t want her to leave, couldn’t imagine it. He wanted to grab both of them by the hand, shove them in a car, and drive them straight back to Jackson. He wanted to see Ellie smile and joke again. He wanted to have them safe under the same roof without worrying who was coming for them. Joel wanted to take the time to explore every inch of Red without distraction, see her finally unguarded and at ease. He wanted them with him at his side, happy and taken care of.

But they had to finish it all. The moment before the flash grenade exploded, he’d been mid chuckle. His chest had felt light at the fact Ellie was finally laughing again, both of them arguing over shitty puns, and his eyes had found Red. She’d been smiling at him and he had wondered how many times she had ever actually smiled at him. Not at Ellie, but him and how he wanted to see it more. Then they heard the sharp metallic ping of something hit the ground and his head felt like it was going to explode. The world went dark. They’d found the Fireflies but the cost was Ellie. He had never really questioned how they would get the cure from the girl. Science wasn’t his forte so he had figured they would take some samples, run some tests, and then they would be on their way. But it’d been so stupid to be that naive. Cordyceps grew on the brain. He knew that and it had never clicked that the whole journey there had been a death procession. Marlene’s face as she said she understood his pain was bullshit. She didn’t understand anything. She didn’t understand what it was like to raise a little girl only to have her die in her arms. What it was like to live in bitterness and hatred only to find another miracle child and keep her safe against the world. How many lives and bodies had followed in his and Red’s wake to make sure she was okay only to deliver her to her death. Marlene didn’t understand shit because Ellie wasn’t her kid. She was theirs. And she expected them to simply walk away and rinse their hands of her? She gave the order to escort him out, telling him his companion would be let out separately as soon as she was awake. They had to sedate her after she broke one of their arms when she woke up. Joel’s mind was racing. On a feedback loop, that moment before the grenade went off played over and over again. Ellie’s laugh. Red’s smile. That feeling in his chest. His girls. His girls. He’d had panic attacks before, had been knocked breathless with pain at the thought of harm coming to them and the fear he would fail them. But he wasn’t going to fail them this time. He wasn’t losing anyone anymore. Ice cold violence washed over him as he took care of the two soldiers in the stairwell. It was so easy to pull the trigger again and again. Bodies fell to the floor one after another as he worked his way towards where the soldier had mentioned Red was kept. He’d get her and then they’d get Ellie and leave. The world could fucking burn if it meant Ellie would live and if anyone understood that, it was her.

He found her a floor up from where he was kept, his bullets finding Fireflies one by one. Their lights blinking out. Her bag was kept under the nurse’s station, some of her belongings spread out on the counter. They’d dug through them. Joel made sure to carefully put everything back exactly how he knew she liked it, knowing how attached she was to every single thing, and kicked open the door where she was being held. They’d tied her arms to the wall radiator with rope, blindfold over her eyes and her head lolled to the side. Rage filled him at the sight of her that way, like a wild animal caught in a trap. She’d scared them. Scared them enough they didn’t want her to recognize their faces, to be able to see the fear in their eyes. Satisfaction filled him at that fact. He made sure to gently cut through the rope with Ellie’s switchblade, rubbing the raw skin around her wrists, and was lifting the blindfold off when she jerked awake, thrashing immediately. Her nails were sharp and dug into his neck, drawing deep scratches, before he could catch her wrists. Her wild eyes were unfocused and he shushed her, speaking gently, “It’s me, it’s just me. I got ya.” Pupils dilated and eyes blinking rapidly, it took her a bit to come to realize who was talking to her, “Joel?” “It’s me, darlin,” he whispered, releasing her wrists and cupping her cheeks, “It’s me. We have to get you up and going, we don’t have much time.” “Where-” she licked her dry lips, voice raspy, and looked around the room with a furrowed brow, “Where’s Ellie? What happened?” His teeth grit and he wondered if he should lie to her. Tell her these people weren’t the Fireflies and had taken the girl, let her unleash unholy hell onto them. But this was Red and it didn’t matter who these people were to her. She wouldn’t care because the fact remained that they had taken Ellie and weren’t giving her back. “We found the Fireflies,” Joel spit out, “They’re going to kill her. To make the cure. They have to kill her to get it.” He didn’t have to explain what he was planning to do. They had always worked well, able to silently communicate without a single word passed between them. They were going to kill Ellie. That was all he had to say. Because if anyone understood what his choice was going to be, it would be her. Joel could see it. The moment the statement sunk in, her brain landing on the same frequency as his. They were going to kill Ellie. Ellie. They were going to kill their kid. Fuck a cure, fuck these people, fuck all of humanity. He’d seen that same look in her eye when he’d found them in Denver, her face and clothes coated in blood that wasn’t hers and fingers digging into Ellie tightly as if she’d disappear into the wind if she let go. Rage, pure and decimating. She’d burn the world to the ground and salt the earth afterwards. He handed over her pack and she quickly strapped it on before taking the spare pistol he had grabbed from one of the soldiers. “How many?” she bit out and rose to her feet. “A lot.” “Okay,” was all she replied before checking her magazine clip and nodding towards the door, “You lead.” And that was that. She was his shadow, that silent communication taking over like when they were back in the wilderness. He’d turn and fire and she would be there, having his back as he reloaded and checked the corners. If his gun clicked empty before finishing a soldier, her knife would find the target. Quick and brutal and efficient. Red didn’t hesitate. Even as some of the soldiers begged, she was quick to end them, picking up their gun and continuing on. They moved with brutal proficiency through the floors, bodies and blood and bullets falling in their wake. When they needed to know what floor Ellie was being held on, they grabbed a person and she’d dug her knife into their thigh, getting the information before slitting their throat. One of them would grab a bottle and toss it, causing a distraction and giving the other an opening to mow down the Fireflies.

Mercy was not something they considered. They had taken their kid, taken Ellie, they were going to kill her and that meant no one would be left alive. No loose ends, no one to come after them. She saw what had happened last time in Denver when they left loose ends. David’s group had happened. Blood and fire had happened. They wouldn’t make the same mistake again. When they reached the pediatric floor, it was quiet, empty. The painted childlike imagery on the walls didn’t help their anger. Pediatric floor. For children. Yet here these people were, about to kill their daughter for the good of mankind. This is where kids came to be saved, not murdered. Red’s body was humming with energy at his back and he knew that if he wanted to, he could unleash her and let her rip everyone to shreds even if it meant she’d hurt herself. She was a weapon to be used however he saw fit and it would be so easy to let her do it. But Joel wasn’t losing either of them. No, he was walking out with both of them at his side, safe so they could go back home together. The slight murmur of voices drew them closer to the operating room. The sight of his baby girl in a hospital gown on a table sent pain rushing through him. Ellie looked so small, hair undone and laid out around her and contraptions attached. None of the spitfire energy she usually had, no smirk, no grin at annoying him or frustrated frown when Red got after her. These people didn’t know who they were going to kill for their cure. Didn’t know the amazing girl the world would lose for them to gain a future. The surgeon looked up and was startled at seeing both of them there. Joel doesn’t remember exactly what he said, only that the doctor had grabbed the scalpel and then he shot at the same time Red did beside him. The doctor fell and the nurses did too, dropping to the ground in a splatter of blood. Just more bodies in their wake. They didn’t waste any time. Quickly drawing the IV out of her vein, Red grabbed tape and gently wrapped it while Joel worked to unhook Ellie from the machines. He couldn’t help but press a kiss to her hair and whispered, “We’re here, baby girl. Let’s go home.” “I’ll cover the rear, you carry her, and we’ll go to the garage. There has to be vehicles there,” Red bit out, “We may have stragglers show up.” He nodded and pulled Ellie off the table and into his arms, leading the way out of the room and into the hallway. As predicted, there were stragglers. A few soldiers were running from the back stairwells, guns raised. He kept going, trusting Red to have his back. Joel trusted her with both their lives and knew she wouldn’t let anything happen to them. Especially not so close to the finish line. Sure enough, he could hear her open fire, the telltale sounds of screams and pained grunts echoing around them before the thuds of bodies hitting the ground. Leave no loose ends. The mantra played through his mind as they entered the garage and saw Marlene there. It played when he turned to look at Red, her eyes borrowing holes into Marlene’s with a rage he’d only seen a few times. And it played when he pulled the trigger on the gun he was holding underneath Ellie’s legs. “You’d just come after her.”

___________________________

Red didn’t protest against anything he told Ellie. He knew she wouldn’t, but to see her trust him fully to take the lead on the explanation made him reach across the center console and grab her hand. Her hands were still bright pink from scrubbing the blood off them, wiping away any evidence before Ellie would wake up. Raiders. Barely made it out. No cure to be found. No one left. Her fingers intertwined with his, gripping them back after checking on the sleeping girl curled up in a ball on the back seat. “Back to Jackson,” Red murmured, blinking up at him under her lashes. The sun reflected off her cheekbones, lighting up her hair. “Back to Jackson,” Joel replied and gave her hand a squeeze. “You sure you want me around civilized folk?” she whispered and rubbed at a spot of blood in her jeans, hair falling into her face. The question was said jokingly but tentative. Do you want me around? You said there was no happy ending. Their past arguments swirled in his head and he cursed the man he had been, the one who had put that doubt there. “Fuck civilized folk,” Joel assured her easily, hand on the steering wheel gripping it tightly, “I need my girls with me. Who else is going to help me look after our kid.” Our kid. Because Ellie was. She was theirs. Not by genetics but they were family tied together by blood and violence and something that ran so much deeper. Red had killed for them like they all had killed for each other. Joel would kill hundreds to keep both of them safe. She smiled softly, head tilting back to lean against the headrest and blood still slightly smeared on her neck. Joel’s eyes focused on her mouth, the tilt of her lips as it curled up and the fact it was aimed at him. Just like before the flash grenade went off. He was taking his girls home.

________________________________ Feral Reader Tag List: @alouise20 @faceache111 @hawsx3 @taxidriversainz @iluvbunnyhops @mrfitzdarcyslover @emlovesya @agent007knight @spaacerabbit @namgification @wonwoosthetic

#tlou spoilers #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x reader #joel miller x feral reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x oc #series: feral #joel miller fanfic #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #Feral Reader #Raicodoll writes

644 notes · View notes

ghostboneswrites2 · 2 months

Text

A Mess || Part 3

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring everything here starting with this series since it was the most popular!

Summary: Shane's aggression comes to head and Daryl saves the day.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: Nongraphic attempt at SA, TWD typical violence, profanity, alcohol consumption

Things had gone to shit at the camp. It was clear it was time to move on as their spot was no longer safe from the dead. Shane insisted on Fort Benning, and Rick insisted on the CDC. Both of the men had been at odds, Shane not taking kindly to Rick's knack for leadership. Surprisingly nobody had said anything to Rick about Shane and Lori. Not even you, not yet.

Everyone was loading their gear and other belongings into vehicles when he approached you.

"Look, I want you to ride with me." Shane said. You looked around, momentarily expecting a camera crew to run out shouting about being pranked for their show. You huffed a dry laugh and shook your head.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I -- I think it's best if we --"

"What? Get back together 'cause your side piece cut you out?" You scoffed. "I don't think so."

He gripped your arm tightly, shoving you against the red truck you were loading your things into. Daryl offered to let you ride with him since it was just him.

"I think it's best if we keep things lookin' cordial." He growled. "Last thing we need is for Rick to get any ideas right now. He needs to keep his head clear. We all do."

"Translation: My name is Shane and I don't want my best friend to know I've been fucking his wife." You spat back. His glare was harsh and the tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

"Don't make this hard."

"You're literally the only one making it hard, ass--"

"What's the problem?" Daryl asked, wiping his hands with his red bandana as he casually approached the scene.

Shane's grip on your arm ceased as he clenched his jaw.

"Yeah, Shane. What's the problem? We gotta get movin' soon." You taunted.

You looked over Shane's shoulder to see Rick watching the situation from afar, eyes pressed together in confusion. Daryl stepped around to the driver's side door and called out behind him; "Ya ready, (Y/N)?"

"Yeah, Daryl. I'm ready." You called back, eyes still trained on Shane's. Shane lingered for only a moment before he turned and stormed away, wiping his sweaty face with frustration and defeat.

You climbed into the truck as Shane walked past Rick and his family to get to his own ride.

"What was that about?" Rick asked him. Lori glanced at Shane and Rick, swallowing her nerves.

"Nothin', man." Shane sighed. Rick stepped closer to his buddy, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"She seein' the Dixon?" Rick inquired. The officer had no inkling of suspicion about the affair, so seeing you friendly with Daryl and avoiding Shane could only lead him to one conclusion.

Lori cleared her throat when Shane didn't respond, speaking up on his behalf. "Yes. She -- Uh, it's been goin' on since we got here."

Her quick thinking saved them from immediate backlash, but her damage control only went so far. Eventually Rick would be asking more questions, when they were safe and had a place to catch their breath. She prayed that you wouldn't get to him first to answer some of those questions.

----

"Keep drinkin', little man. I wanna see how red your face can get." Daryl teased. The feast was more than any of you had enjoyed in one sitting in months. The wine was also a welcome relief.

You smiled as you sipped your wine and picked at your food, watching everyone around you have a great time. Rick had been giving you looks all evening, as if trying to read your mind or understand what you had been up to.

As soon as Shane spoke up about why you were all really there at the CDC, you excused yourself, unable to bare the sound of his voice creeping in and ruining your buzz. You grabbed an unopened bottle of wine and strolled over to the rec room, where you searched through the board games and books and magazines and whatever else, hoping to find something to occupy your mind and hands. You settled on a gimmicky tabloid about some washed up popstar, only to set it to the side when the wine made it too hard to read.

You checked the bottle, it was about a quarter of the way down by now. You wondered how long you'd been in there alone.

"Never were much of a tabloid girl." Shane spoke from behind the couch where you sat. You tensed up at the sound of his voice, it was like nails being hammered into your ears.

"Got any more wine?" He asked.

"Not enough to share." You sighed, standing up. You went to walk around him and find your room but he stopped you, placing a hand on your chest and standing in your way.

"How long we gonna do this?" He asked. You could smell the wine on his breath, a fermented sour aroma. He was probably as drunk as you, if not more.

"Do what, Shane? There's nothing to do. We're over. Now please, get out of my way." You tried to step around him again but he quickly cut you off.

"I messed up, (Y/N), I know that but.. The world is messed up." His words slurred out of his mouth. You wondered if he'd even remember this conversation the next day, or how easily he'd forget it the next time a MILF crossed his path. You scoffed, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms as you leaned your weight onto one leg. "We can fix this, and -- And Rick wouldn't have to know anything we could just go back to how things were--"

"That's what this is about? Rick not figuring out what you've done?" You had begun to raise your voice now, your heart pumping hot frustration through your veins.

"(Y/N), please, keep your voice--"

"No! This is bullshit! Get out of my way."

In an instant he had grabbed your shoulders and swung you into the wall just two feet behind him. You dropped your wine, glass shattering all over the floor. He was looming over your now, shaky breaths raining down over your face as his nostrils flared. His hands slapped into the wall on either side of your head. You flinched at the suddenness of his movements.

"We're puttin' and end to this. Now." He hissed.

"I already ended it." You whimpered. You meant for it to sound as menacing as he did but your fear overtook you. He scared you.

His hands found your throat quickly, gripping you tightly. You choked and gasped, slapping at his hands frantically.

"I ain't askin'. I'm gon' show you just how little of a choice you really got here."

He let go of your neck and flipped your body to press your face against the wall. His hand dug in your hair as he did, the other hand reaching down to unbuckle his belt. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you heard the zipper fall down.

With one swift movement, your pants were tugged down, and you could feel his pulsating dick pressing against you. You let out a whine as you struggled against the weight of him squishing you into the wall.

"The hell's goin' on here?" A husky voice interrupted Shane's party. You were relived to hear Daryl storm over. He tugged Shane off of you and threw him into the couch behind you. You scrambled to pull your pants back up as you turned to watch.

Daryl had Shane's collar bunched in a fist, knuckled turning white with rage as he shook Shane.

"The hell's wrong with you, man?" Daryl seethed. "Huh?"

"Daryl--" You tried to intervene before the situation got any worse but it was too late. Daryl's fist raised and crashed into Shane's cheek. "I asked you a fuckin' question, pig!"

"She wanted it, man." Shane argued. "Tell him, (Y/N.)"

Daryl glanced back at you. You didn't say anything, you didn't move a muscle really. That was all Daryl needed to see. He landed another punch, then two, then three. By then Shane was bloody as his head bobbed back and forth weakly.

"I don't ever wanna catch you near her. Ya hear me? You so much as breathe too heavy in her direction and I'll fuckin' kill you. Ya got that?" Daryl got closer and closer to Shane's face with every word. When Shane didn't answer him; "I said do ya fuckin' understand the words that are comin' outta my mouth?"

"Yeah." Shane said lowly, glaring at you over Daryl's shoulder.

"Don't look at her." Daryl growled, gripping Shane's jaw and tilting his head back toward himself. "Look at me and tell me ya understand."

"I understand." Shane gritted his teeth.

Daryl abruptly let go of Shane and turned to you quickly. He grabbed you by the arm, firmly but not painfully, as he pulled you out of the rec room and down the hall toward his own room.

"(Y/n)?" Rick asked. You sighed as he approached, walking down the hall with Lori. They both looked concerned with your appearance, hair in a disheveled mess, tear stains still hot on your red cheeks. Rick tilted his head at Daryl, already sending him an accusatory glare. Daryl's hand on your arm didn't help with how things looked.

"Don't look at me, man. I didn't do this." Daryl snapped. He was still worked up, hands shaking with rage as his shoulders rose and fell with each breath.

"(Y/N)," Rick said slowly, still looking at Daryl. "What's goin' on?"

You didn't respond. You couldn't find the words, not with Lori's eyes blazing through you, full of concern, or Rick looking at Daryl like the suspect of a crime.

"Do I gotta tell 'em?" Daryl asked impatiently, looking down at you. Rick finally relented and looked at you.

"What happened, (Y/N)? Did someone hurt you?" Lori pressed.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to lash out at her for showing any kind of care for your wellbeing after everything she had participated in.

Rick glanced down at Daryl's bloody knuckles. Clearly he had hit someone but it wasn't you, since you had no visible signs of injury.

"It was that asshole Shane!" Daryl finally snapped. "Had her pressed up against the wall. She was cryin' and all, man. She didn't want that."

Lori and Rick both fell at a loss for words, confusion and concern washing over them as they gave each other a look.

"Is that true?" Lori breathed, eyes welling up with tears.

You took a breath and nodded slowly.

"That doesn't sound like somethin' Shane would do." Rick shook his head. He was apprehensive, not wanting to believe his partner in protecting their community was capable of hurting someone like that.

"Well, there's a lot of things he's capable of." You grumbled, your eyes flickering to Lori. Rick followed your eyes to his wife, eyebrows pressed together forming a thin line between them.

"Where is he?" Lori asked.

"Back there." Daryl pointed over his shoulder to the rec room.

"I -- I don't understand. So, what? He was gonna..."

"Rape her." Daryl cut Lori off. You cringed at the use of the word.

"So, you caught him?" Rick asked.

"Yeah. He did. Are we done here? I'd really like a shower." You spoke up. Everyone looked uncomfortable, but they couldn't have been as uncomfortable as you.

"I just wanna get this straight. It's a big accusation--"

"It's not an accusation." You snapped, cutting Rick off. "He cornered me, tried to get me to forgive him, and tried to--"

"Hold on, forgive him for what?" Rick shook his head. You gritted your teeth together, eyes bouncing between him and Lori before you decided to give it a rest. "Use your detective skills. I'm sure you can figure it out. The clues are right under your nose."

You stepped around them, glaring at Lori as you went by, Daryl following right behind you.

"Get your bag." Daryl told you as his pace landed beside you again. "You ain't sleepin' alone. I don't trust that asshole not to come lookin' for ya."

----

A hot shower was everything you didn't know you were craving. An unmatched sense of relaxation washed over you with the stream of water. You hugged yourself, sniffling and trying to keep your cries at a low volume. How humiliating and degrading the night had been. Daryl had to save your ass, Rick and Lori knew what happened, and Shane would have done whatever he wanted to you. You were too weak to stop him. It was pathetic. You sank down to your kneed, crying it all out before you had to face the man who just quite literally caught you with your pants down. Quickly you washed yourself, not wanting to use up all the hot water before he could enjoy some, and stepped out into the steamy bathroom air. You dried and clothed yourself slowly before emerging from the little bathroom.

Daryl was setting himself up on the little couch in the middle of the room. He had set your bag up on the bed. He looked up at you when he noticed you.

"Figured you'd take the bed. I'm fine on the couch."

"Oh." You nodded. "Thanks."

You sat on the side of the bed, twiddling your fingures.

"Y'alright?"

"Uh, yeah, I think." You mumbled.

"Don't look it."

"I don't really feel it." You admitted.

"Want me to kill 'im?" He offered. It had become a running joke between the two of you, but you didn't doubt he meant it this time.

"No." You shook your head "But I don't wanna see him again. Ever."

"Just get some sleep." He told you. "We'll figure it out in the mornin'."

"I saved you some hot water." You said as you laid down, curling up under the covers and turning to face the wall. You didn't want him to see you cry.

His shower was a lot quicker than yours. You seemed to be asleep when he got out. He laid on the couch, feet propped up on the arm as he looked up to the ceiling, wondering if the situation would be addressed or swept under the rug.

"Daryl?" You squeaked into the darkness.

"Hm." He hummed back, to let you know he was listening.

"Thank you."

"Don't worry 'bout it." He shrugged. "Woulda done it for anyone."

"Well I'm sorry you're always stuck in the middle of my bullshit." You sighed.

----

Shane showed up to breakfast with a bruised left side, earing some questions from the others. You all kept silent, Rick, Lori, you, Daryl, Shane. Daryl guessed it would just be ignored.

"What happened to you?" Andrea asked.

"Play fightin' with Daryl when they were wasted. Ain't that right?" Rick spoke up, staring between the two of them. Shane nodded once, never lifting his eyes from his meal. Daryl just squinted his eyes at Rick.

The tension was too much. You lost your appetite, but you didn't want to give anything away. You just picked at your food. You were sure the others had an idea that it probably had something to do with you, given all the drama before Rick came back, but they were too aware of the tension to ask.

You kind of wondered why Rick was covering for Shane, or if Lori had confessed anything, or if he even believed you. He had to, right? The evidence was pretty damning. Of course you didn't know what Lori had told him, about you being the one to have an affair, but that wasn't it. Rick simply just couldn't decide when to address it, or how to. Instead he settled on eyeing Shane to death at the breakfast table.

Masterlist || Taglist

#daryl twd #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #18+ content #18+ only #mdni

119 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year

Text

A Couple Days In (I Call You Baby) CH2.

Modern!Steve Harrington x fem!reader [6.8K] 18+ the two night stand au no one asked for, or, the fic where you meet steve on a dating app and then a snowstorm ensures you can’t sneak out the next morning.

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

“Hey, wanna get high?”

It was an easy question to say yes to, to be able to do something other than sit around and watch the snow fall, something to break the tension, ease the silence that was still a little uncomfortable. It was even easier when Steve looked at you like that, the same way he had the night before when you first answered the call from him, all messy hair and flushed cheeks, soft eyes and a smile that told you that you made him as nervous as he made you.

So you nodded and felt a little giddy when he sparked up a joint, trying not to think about how it had been slotted between his lips when you placed it between yours. Besides, his mouth had been in more intimate places the night before… but you weren’t supposed to talk about that.

So you shared the smoke until the joint burned down to the end, a stubbed out roach on a makeshift ashtray and when the sky outside dulled to an inky violet, you found yourself on Steve's living room floor. The boy had made quick work of gathering up every blanket and sheet he could find, the coffee table moved in favour of a fort that stood proud in the middle of the room. The weed had hit hard when he turned off the lights, letting the old nineties style disco ball illuminate the space instead. It twisted slowly, pink and purple and peach and green, each coloured sphere dancing off the white sheets and walls, making Steve’s skin turn shades of cotton candy and apricot.

You’d found a frozen pizza in the bottom of his freezer, grimaced and brushed off most of the ice before shoving it in the oven as Steve threw all the snacks he could find into the fort, chips and cookies and some sour patch kids lost amongst the pillows. You ate slices of pepperoni in agreeable silence, The Goonies playing faintly in the background and when dinner was done and the high started to settle, you found yourself laying closer to the boy, shoulder to shoulder on the floor.

“Can I ask you a question?” He asked, looking at you from the side of his eyes, curious and careful. “If you promise not to yell at me.”

“I don’t make promises with boys,” you said airily, grinning when Steve snorted. “But I won’t resort to violence, if that makes you feel better.”

“Barely,” he shot back but he rolled onto his stomach anyway, bit the head off of a red sour patch and kept his gaze on you. “But I’ll risk it. Why were you looking for a hookup? Last night. Like, why were you on that stupid site.”

“Why were you?”

Steve grinned. “I asked you first.”

Did you tell him? Did you tell him the truth? Would you sound pathetic, would you sound sad? Would you tell this boy, this stranger, that you’d once been happy and with your own place, another boy to share it with, that white picket fence kinda dream. Would you tell him you had a man, who wore a suit and tie to work, who promised you a ring and a baby and anything else you wanted, would you tell him that you found him with another girl when you came home too early one day, that he was less than sorry and told you that he just didn’t feel the same, that he was going to confess to you eventually.

How could you tell him that? How could you tell that story without crying?

So you hoped your eyes didn’t turn glassy as you kept Steve’s gaze and shrugged, fingers playing nervously with the tassels on the end of a blanket. “What’s that thing they say? ‘You gotta get back on the horse’ or something?” You swallowed, throat too tight. “I had to get back on the horse.”

Steve stared, eyes widening slightly in realisation and he nodded, slow, thoughtful. Silence crept in, the movie long over and the credits rolling silently, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound. And then Steve knocked a hand against yours and said, “for what it’s worth, the guy sounds like an idiot. His loss, y’know?”

You grinned despite your confusion, nose scrunched and you stole a piece of candy from the bowl the boy had monopolised. “You don’t even know what he did.”

Steve hummed and shook his head, not wanting to hear your counter argument. “Doesn’t matter. You’ve got this look in your eye and— and, well, I can just tell, okay? He’s probably the world's biggest douche and he doesn’t deserve you.”

You were speechless, lips parted, tongue fizzing with leftover sugar and still staring at Steve. This guy you met online, a stranger. Except not really.

“You didn’t deserve that.” Steve finished, he was staring at the popcorn, cheeks a little pink. “Whatever it was… that he did. You didn’t.”

Your socked foot met his, toes pushed to his, the closest you’d been since the night before. He stared at where you touched him, throat bobbing and you sniffed before whispering a small, ‘thanks.’

Steve shrugged again, embarrassed and brushing it off but his words clung to you in a way that was more important than you realised. When you’d told your mom about your ex, she’d been sympathetic but she seemed more concerned about you moving back in with a friend, having a roommate instead of a mortgage and still no ring on your finger.

‘Maybe you weren’t giving him what he needed, hon,” she’d tried to justify. ‘You’re always so busy at work, you know. Men need cared for, they like to come home and have their dinner on the table and—’

You’d hung up the call without listening to it anymore.

“Even though I’m a raging dragon?” You asked Steve, your knowing smile lightening the mood.

You laughed when the boy’s cheeks burned, the tips of his ears just as red and he sat up in defence, hands held out placatingly. “Hey, c’mon now. You weren’t supposed to hear that—”

“So that makes it okay?” You squealed, laughing whilst trying to act offended. You batted at Steve’s hands when he tried to steal back the sour patch kids. “No, they’re mine now. Penance for your awful honesty.”

“—if you let me talk,” Steve grumbled but he was smiling too and god, it was a pretty sight. “You’ll know that I didn’t mean it. Well I did, a little. You were scary.”

You snorted.

“But hot,” Steve added on, looking at you from under his lashes, gaze lowered and he took a second to see how you’d take such a compliment. You raised your brows, hiding a smile with twisted lips. “Y’know, in that ‘she’s yelling but I’m turned on’ kinda way?”

You laughed, a bright burst of sound that made Steve grin and you shook your head, “god, boy’s are easy, huh?”

“We’re mere creatures, honestly,” Steve smiled and he didn’t seem to care about his admittance. Or the fact you’d both promised not to talk about the fact you had slept with each other, ‘cause then he said: “M’sorry I couldn’t you know, be a… good horse to get back onto.”

Were you burning? You felt like you were burning. You felt like you were on fire. You squirmed, chugging down the rest of your sofa before answering. “Steve, no, don’t, it wasn’t— I was being dramatic— and a bitch—”

“Did you come?”

You choked, face flushed and you wanted to placate him, ‘cause he’d fed you all day and you were in a pair of his too big socks ‘cause you’d complained about having cold feet but god, you couldn’t lie.

“Jesus, blunt much?” You tried to stall but Steve narrowed his eyes at you.

“Like you were aiming for soft and sweet this morning? C’mon, tell me the truth. Was I that bad? I can handle it.”

You chewed at your bottom lip, thinking carefully and you couldn’t help the breath of laughter that left you. “You can’t handle it,” you shrugged. “It’s okay though, no boy could. Your egos are too precious.”

“That’s not true,” Steve replied, and he nudged at your side, his hand grazing over the sort of your hip and you wanted to squirm. “Look at it this way, once the weather stops being so fucking dramatic, you’re gone, right?”

“Like the wind,” you nodded sagely.

“So the chance of us seeing each other again, is like what, slim to none?”

“A zero,” you confirmed.

Steve smiled and it was nice, pretty, a slow stretch that made him look like he was up to know good and it reminded you of the night before, after you’d shed your coat and clinked your beer against his, right before he’d kissed you against the kitchen counter.

“So we’ve been given a rare opportunity here, sweetheart,” he sat up, gesturing between the two of you, his candy forgotten about. “Let’s get brutal. You tell me what I need to do to improve, you know, sexually, and I’ll hand out some pointers too.”

“Oh, I need pointers?” You laughed, humourless, eyebrows raised as you say up too, your head brushing the peak of the fort. Mirth glittered in the boy’s eyes and he shrugged, too causal.

“You think you’re some sort of sex god?” Steve grinned and you burned, embarrassed at his accusation.

“What? No! At least you got off!”

Steve sprang to his knees, victorious, a finger pointed accusingly at you. “Ha! See! You didn’t come, you totally faked it. You lying… liar.”

You rolled your eyes. “Mature.”

“Listen,” he took your hand, hesitant at first, but once you didn’t pull away, he tugged you a little closer, fingers tangling. “Hear me out. Don’t you wanna know? Like, a full Amazon style review of your sexual prowess. Cons, star rating, would I recommend you to a friend?”

You scoffed, unable to hold in your laughter, but you used your free hand to bat at his shoulder anyway. “You’re a pig,” you told him.

“I know, you told me already,” Steve reminded you and he grinned, all boyish and teasing. Steve tan his thumb over your knuckles, fingertips scratching nicely against your palm. He was flirting. He was fucking flirting. “C’mon, tell me how to find some truffles.”

And that’s how you found yourself standing in front of him as he sat on his sofa, gaze focused on you as you paced in front of the TV. The snow was still falling outside, mounds of it climbing up the window as it settled on the sill, the whole world outside turning white.

“Okay,” you clapped your hands together. “This would be so much easier if I had, like, a PowerPoint.”

Steve stared at you, deadpan. “You want ten minutes with my laptop?”

He was joking, but you hesitated. He said your name through a laugh, shaking his head. “No. You do not need a PowerPoint presentation, c’mon, lay it on me.”

You took a deep breath and started.

“Right. So I didn’t actually have an orgasm last night and I know that hurts your male ego, but trust me, no one is more disappointed than me, okay?” You paused as Steve opened his mouth to retort but you interrupted with a sharp, “ah! Questions and comments at the end, please.”

Steve sunk back into the couch.

“And it’s not because you were bad, alright? You were good! Like really good and it was pretty hot and honestly, I was close, like several times.” You stopped pacing to face him, head tilted to the side. “You remember what I said? What I might have told you that could have possibly helped you know that I was close?”

Steve sucked his teeth, bashful. “You might have said, ‘I’m close.’”

“Right! I did, didn’t I? And then you completely changed up what you were doing even though I very specifically said ‘don’t stop,’ so please, Steven, talk me through your thought process there.”

Steve gestured wildly to the air, at a loss. He shrugged, “ I dunno, I thought if I like, sped it up, or you know, did that little twisty thing with my fingers… kinda like a finishing move or something. WWE style, Tony Hawk Pro Skater, Mortal Kombat? You know— never mind. And don’t call me Steven, Jesus.”

“If a girl tells you she’s close, it’s because of what you’re currently doing. Like, exactly that,” you told him softly. “Don’t change it up, got it?”

Steve blinked as you stared at him, expression intense and he nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah. Yes ma’am.”

“Oh! And if a girl is trying to help herself out with some hand action?” You gestured vaguely at your crotch, cheeks on fire. “It’s not a personal attack, okay? Sex is a… sex is a team effort, yeah? We’re simply trying to make everyone feel good.”

Steve nodded again, lips pursed. “Noted. Anything else?”

“Yes, actually,” you said primly, ignoring the way Steve smirked. “I don’t know which freshman dweeb managed to convince every male that spelling the alphabet with their tongue is a good idea, but it’s not, okay? It kinda makes me feel like you’re learning braille, and that’s not sexy. Apart from that, sex with you is perfectly nice.”

“You done?” Steve asked again but he was still smiling, his hands tapping at the back of the couch.

You nodded, gaze lowered ‘cause you weren’t sure how you managed to say such things to a boy you barely knew but fuck, if it didn’t feel good.

“Good, my turn. Take a seat, sweetheart, and get out your notepad.”

You scowled, shoulder brushing Steve’s as you swapped places, throwing yourself down into the sofa. He grinned as he took centre stage, immediately launching into a speech that honestly wasn’t as scathing as you were scared it was going to be.

“Lights,” he announced. “What is it with girls and wanting to do it with the lights off? I’ve already seen you, I think you’re hot, I wanna see more.” Steve’s eyes lit up in excitement, enthusiasm evident. “Now I know, you had some real cute underwear under those jeans, okay? Something lacy, real sexy, I’m sure of it, but I didn’t get to see them!”

You laughed at his crestfallen expression, his pout.

“And that whole thing,” the boy gestured to his clothes. “You switched off the light and stripped yourself like Houdini, zero appreciation for the art.”

“The art?” You snorted, eyes on Steve’s and suddenly the air shifted. You watched him shrug and swallow hard, throat bobbing and he didn’t bother hiding the way his gaze travelled down your body and back up again. “What art?”

“Y’know,” he shuffled a little nervously, cheeks pink again. He gestured towards the sofa. “You.”

“Me?”

“Yeah,” he grinned at how you sounded so shocked. “C’mon, don’t act like you don’t know. You’re hot, sweetheart. Real pretty. Guys are nothin’ but visual creatures, right? You gotta give us something to work with. A little somethin’ like this—” Steve shimmied his hips, miming pulling his sweats down all slow, ass popped and knees bent. “— a little ass action, yeah?”

He grinned when you laughed loudly, eyes shining and your hand covering your mouth but it only encouraged him. “Right? You get it. A little over the shoulder look, bat those eyes. Did you drop something? Oh, yeah you did,” he smirked, smug and pleased with himself. “It was your panties.”

“You’re in the wrong job, Harrington. That was quite the show.”

Steve hummed, “yeah, but I can’t walk in heels, so,” he tsked and grinned.

“Anything else to add?” You asked him.

But the boy was already making his way back to the couch so he could settle next to you, a casual arm slung on the back cushions, his hand barely grazing your neck. “Nah, honestly, guys are pretty simple.”

You grinned, nodding. “Well,” you slapped softly at his thigh. “Thanks for your honesty.”

Steve cleared his throat and tried not to act like your hand on his leg was doing what it was doing for him. “Yeah, yeah, same. I, uh, I wish you’d told me last night, though.”

You gazed at him questioningly.

“You know, that you didn’t finish.” Steve suddenly seemed shy, licking at his bottom lip and looking anywhere but your eyes. “I would’ve tried to, uh, make that happen for you.”

“Oh.” You were warmer than you had been all day. “I know. I should’ve said. That wasn’t fair.” It was hard to speak, your throat too tight, your voice breathy and losing that bossy tone it had had before.

Steve finally lifted his gaze back to yours and suddenly, he seemed so much closer than before. He shifted, his hand touching your neck just briefly and you wondered if it was an accident. The forgotten TV timed out, blinked and settled back to black and Steve was multicoloured. The disco bowl still spun, lights shifting slowly over the boy’s skin, your hands in your lap, the cracks in the old walls.

You watched him lick at his lips, mouth pinker than ever with the lights, lashes blinking as he seemed to mull something over in his head. Did he lean in? Or was that you? A shift, a pull, something that someone did that cause your shoulders to bump, your thigh to brush his.

“I could try again,” he whispered. “If you want. For science.”

The disco light spun, colours changed and Steve’s eyes went from honey to amber to gold. He waited, patient, nervous.

“Science?” You whispered and Steve nodded, gaze on your lips.

“Yeah, we could test out those pointers, y’know? See if we actually did need a presentation, might’ve been better off with a diagram or something but hey, you never kn— mmph—”

Steve was cut off, your lips pressed to his, your hands on his cheeks. It was a little messy at first, off kilter and desperate, but you moved closer and let your lips brush over his, your breath a heavy fan over his mouth and chin. You let him chase you, silently checking that this is what he wanted to and your heart was ready to break out of your chest when his hand clutched at your hip and pulled you back. Fingertips travelled up your side, delicate, hesitant, but when they raked through your hair and grabbed at the back of your neck, Steve didn’t waste anymore time.

He kissed you back, lips parting against yours, tongue sliding your own, nose pressed to your cheek. He took it slow, less ramped up and needy than the night before, ‘cause suddenly you were both gifted with all the time in the world. It was a push and pull, all soft presses of your lips on Steve’s, a slow tease, deep and languid. It was bone melting, a simmering heat, a new neediness that you hadn’t felt since the night before.

You pulled back, lips already kiss swollen and pink, eyes a little glazed and you were pleased to see that Steve looked the same. You pressed a hand to his chest and sucked in the breath he’d stolen. “You’re good at that,” you told him, voice a little wrecked. “Mhmm, good kisser, zero complaints.”

“Yeah?” He grinned, pleased with himself. “Five out of five? You’d recommend me to a friend?”

You rolled your eyes and left his side, hauling yourself to your feet. “God, shut up, don’t make me change my mind.”

Steve raised his brows, watching as you backed away, fingers toying with the edge of your shirt. “Change your mind?” He asked a little hoarsely. “Change your mind about what?”

You shrugged, waiting until you were at his bedroom door before looking back, your chin pressed to your shoulder and your eyes on him. “Come find out.”

You heard him swear softly under his breath, the scramble from the couch, the way his socks slid against the wooden floorboards. Steve was behind you in an instant, eyes heavy and pupils blown. You grinned as he backed himself clumsily to the bed, the backs of his knees hitting the mattress before he sat with a thump, never once letting his eyes leave you.

“Take your shirt off,” you told him softly. “You kinda waited for me to undress you last night, which, I get the idea behind it but you’re a big boy, Steve, you can do it yourself.”

He merely nodded, stripping himself of his shirt before flinging it somewhere in his room, leaning back on his elbows as you grinned at him. You leaned over to the light switch, the harsh ceiling light clicking off and bathing you both in semi darkness, but before the boy could comment, you switched the bedside lamp on, a softer, warmer light illuminating the space and you.

Steve smiled, nodding. “Compromise, I like it.”

“Right?” You said, “we listened, we took notes, we can do this.”

“We can totally do this,” Steve agreed, “it’s gonna— oh…”

The boy trailed off as you lifted your shirt from your body, slow, enticing, movements measured and you tried not to let your breath shudder with nerves. But as more skin was revealed, the darker Steve’s gaze grew and you were urged on. The shirt hit the floor and your hands found your jeans, fingers toying with the button, the zip and imitating the move Steve had done in the living room, you smiled shyly and turned to the side, bending at the waist so you could slide the denim down over your thighs and knees. You stepped out of them and pulled off your socks too - Steve’s socks - finally showing off the pretty lace set that you had indeed picked out to wear for him.

You let out the breath you’d been holding, watching Steve from under your lashes, enjoying the way he had fisted the sheets in his hands, how his eyes were flickering from your chest to your stomach to your ass to your legs, like he didn’t know where to look first. So you turned again, your back to him, grinning at the wall when he groaned lowly, and brought your hands to the clasp of your bra, undoing it and letting the lace fall to the floor too. It took a lot for you to bring your arms down from where they’d naturally crossed in front of your chest, but you let your hands soothe down your stomach until your thumbs hooked into the sides of your underwear and you let them drop down your legs too, a crush of black lace on his bedroom floor.

Completely bare for him, you turned and met his gaze, releasing your bottom lip from where your teeth had pinched at it. “Did you mean something like that?” You asked quietly.

Steve swallowed audibly, his breath coming out in a shaky huff as he nodded, his eyes glazed over as he stared. He kept nodding, eager, his messy hair falling into his face. “Yeah, yeah something like that,” he agreed.

Your knees pressed into the bed as you joined him, squeaking when his hands spanned the side of your waist and pulled you to him. He kissed you like he did on his sofa, all encompassing, his tongue sliding perfectly over yours and you revelled in the way your body lit up for him, a live wire under his touch.

“Wanna make you come,” Steve whispered between kisses and his words made you bite back a groan, “wanna make up for it.”

So you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak until Steve kissed his way down your neck, latching on to a particular spot that made you grab at his hair a little meanly. His lips took their time brushing across your chest, mouthing hotly at your skin, tongue sliding over a nipple, hands gliding over the parts of you he wasn’t kissing. And when he pressed his mouth to your navel, he looked up at you with an earnest expression, all boyish and with his hair falling into his eyes.

“Can I use my mouth?” Steve asked, his lips already brushing over your hip bones, the soft pudge of your stomach.

You whined, nodding, thankful you’d had the courage to ask the boy if you could use his shower after you’d eaten that morning and Steve revelled in the fact your skin smelled like him, his body wash, his shampoo.

“Say it, sweetheart,” Steve murmured, already moving down to spread your legs, hands pushing at each thigh to make room for him to lie between. There was nothing to stop him from seeing every part of you, the soft light casting honey coloured shadows over your skin and it made you squirm. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Please,” you gasped out, blindly grasping for his hair to hold onto, keening when Steve brushed the tip of his nose against your folds, bumping clumsy over your clit. “Please, Steve.”

“How’d you want it?” He asked you quietly and you heard the nervousness there, the need to please you. Steve kissed at your inner thigh, sucked a small bruise there and smiled when your hips lifted from the bed. “You gotta tell me, sweetheart, I wanna do good. How’d you like it, huh?”

Dirty talk wasn’t your forte, never really had been. But Steve was looking at you so sincerely that you couldn’t say no. So you let your head fall back into his pillows and let your lashes flutter closed. “I— I like it soft, at first. Teasing. Like… like little kisses. Just to— oh, god.”

Steve had started doing as you asked, warm hands holding your thighs apart for him, spreading you open so he could press butterfly soft kisses over your cunt. He didn’t focus on one particular part, ghosting over your clit to warm you up, leaving you wanting more. He hummed when you cried out, thumbs stroking circles into your skin. His tongue stroked softly over you, kitten licks over your skin, dipping only once into your entrance, grazing over your clit and making you arch up.

“Like that? Is that better?” Steve murmured.

You nodded, still clutching at strands of his hair. “Yeah, like that,” you agreed and god, you didn’t sound like yourself.

“Keep talkin,” he told you, chin ducking back down so he could taste you again, tongue a slow drag over you.

“More,” you asked, voice high and needy, “please.”

“More what, sweetheart?” Steve was teasing now, he had to be, ‘cause his hands were holding down your hips so you would stop chasing his mouth and your chest was flushed, the same pretty heat crawling across your cheeks. “Told you, you gotta tell me.”

“Your tongue,” you managed to choke out, “keep it— keep it flat and just— oh, shit, Steve.”

The boy was a fast learner, doing exactly what you said as he kept his tongue soft and flat, dragging it slowly over your cunt, licking from your entrance to your clit. He brought his fingers to you, circled them teasingly until you whined and nodded, begging and babbling nonsense. Steve swore into you when you shuddered, two fingers sliding into you easily and he focused his tongue on your clit, keeping up that soft slide against it that you seemed to like best.

“Oh, fuck,” you were panting, thighs hooked over his shoulders and Steve’s face pressed into you, groaning at the way you were grinding against him, fingers slipping deeper, hips lifting and pushing against his tongue. “Fuck, SteveSteveSteve, m’gonna come.”

He didn’t do anything differently, he didn’t dare. Steve just moaned against you, hooked his fingers until you keened and let you ride his face, his tongue staying where it was until you were crying out, pulling on his hair, your thighs shuddering by his ears. He felt you clench down on his fingers, cunt a vice around them and he swore he almost came, his own hips rutting mindlessly against the mattress as you moaned out his name as you settled down.

You were panting, eyes unfocused as Steve crawled back up your body, his lips shiny with you, his gaze looking just as fucked out as you felt and Jesus, he was painfully hard beneath his jeans. You scrambled for him, more keyed up than ever, ‘cause you’d never come like that before, not with someone else. One hand grabbed at his jaw, bringing him down for a kiss as you wrestled with his jeans, fumbling with the button until he broke away to strip them off for you. He looked elated when you chased after him, hands pushing and grabbing at his shoulders until you got him back on the bed, his head hitting the pillows with an ooof, before he pushed himself up on his elbows to watch.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” Steve chanted, eyes fluttering and head rolling back when you wrapped a hand around his cock. You watched the way his jaw tensed, how his neck went taught. “I can’t believe m’sayin’ this but - oh Christ, fuck - I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You smiled and then pouted, crawling between the boy’s legs so you could pepper kisses across his stomach, the line of muscle leading to his hips, the dusting of light hair down his navel.

“That’s no fun,” you commented mildly. “C’mon, Steve, have some self control, huh?”

And then you licked a stripe up the length of his cock, catching the underside of his tip with your tongue, unable to stop the grin on your lips when his hips bucked and he cried out. Your name hung in the air with some choice curse words, and you’d have been offended if he didn’t look the way he did. Wrecked, ruined, all messy haired and glossy lips, pupils blown wide for you.

“Want me to stop?” You asked, slowly pumping him.He shook his head, lips parted, chest heaving. You smiled, saccharine sweet and you wondered when you’d last had this much fun in bed with someone. “Tell me when you do, ‘kay?”

Steve groaned his agreement, letting his head fall back and his fingers twist in your hair as you sunk your mouth back down on him, wanting to make him feel as good as he made you feel. You hadn’t done this last night, both of you too eager to get to the main event, but you took your time now, doing your best to take as much of him as you could, tongue sliding up and down his cock as you moved him to the back of your throat.

Steve whined when he felt himself nudge there, his cock heavy on your tongue, his hand skimming over your cheek in a surprisingly intimate gesture, but then his thumb tugged at your bottom lip, ran itself across the way it was stretched out around him and it was dirty, it was sheer filth and you moaned around him at the feel of it.

“Oh god, fucking— Jesus Christ, sweetheart, I can’t…” Steve tapped at your head, babbling, eyes panicked as he tried his best to keep his hips from lifting off of the bed and chasing your mouth. “M’gonna fuckin’ explode, you can’t—”

You pulled away, lips swollen and red, eyes a little wide at how affected he seemed to be but before you could ask if he was okay, Steve was pulling you onto his lap, arms wrapped tight around you. He kissed you harder than before, a desperate bite to it that you didn’t mind at all and you keened high when your cunt slid slick over his cock, nudging up against your still sensitive clit.

“Good?” You asked, breathless between kisses, Steve’s face dipping so he could mouth along your jaw, the line of your throat. “Any— god, any notes?”

“None, fuck, no, no, none,” Steve rambled, losing all sense of restraint as he started to guide your hips over his, the length of his cock tucked hard between your slick folds, both of your crying out at the friction. “Ten out of ten, five stars,” he choked out.

You huffed out a soft laugh, lashes fluttering as he nipped and sucked at your collarbone, your hands reaching to twist into his hair, holding him to your. “Would you… shit, Steve… would you recommend me to a friend?”

Steve wanted to growl. Mine mine mine mine mine.

Instead, he laughed too, shaking his head as he moved his lips back to your neck, nosing over the soft skin, grazing the line of your jaw until he found your mouth again. He kissed you too sweetly, too lazily, for the way you were rocking over him, desperate to chase some sort of release again.

“Nah,” he managed to answer, “they couldn’t handle you.”

You grinned, pleased with his answer, even if it was a lie. You kissed the boy, too wrapped up in the way he felt under you to call him out on it. Instead you let him run his hands down your back, fingers tripping up over the curves there, the arch of your back, the line of your waist.

“And you can?”

Steve pulled back, still so close, nose grazing your own and he hid his smile with a twist of his lips. He smirked instead, gaze lowered to look at your lips. He shrugged, too casual and said, “I’ll give it a good try.”

You knew from last night where Steve kept the condoms, leaning over him to rummage in his bedside drawer until you could rip open the foil packet and throw it somewhere for one of you to find later. The boy hissed when you rolled it on him, over sensitive already and god, your hands were shaking. He kneaded your hips with rough fingers, leaned back into the pillows and he was cast in the warm light, skin looking tanned and apricot under the glow.

“Like this?” Steve murmured and everything turned a little softer, the air taught with something that hadn’t been there the night before, no cheap beer to dull the senses, the weed long worn off. “Or do you want something else? Just tell me,” Steve was gazing up at you, his words sticky in his throat and god, was he as nervous as you were? “I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Like this,” you agreed, nodding and suddenly you were desperate to feel him.

You knelt up, dipping the mattress on either side of him and Steve helped you move over him, fisting his cock and letting you sink down onto it, eyes clenching shut as you lowered. He was a tight fit, almost too big and Steve groaned as he slipped in, hands rubbing soothing at your hips until you’d taken him to the base.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed out, chest heaving, jaw slack. “You feel so good, just— just gimme a minute.”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, agreeing with everything Steve said, hands clutching at his wrists as he held you, ready to explode from the inside out, ‘cause you could feel his cock twitching inside of you. “Shit, s’good, I can’t—”

“Take your time,” Steve told you, gasping out when you rolled your hips, barely lifting yourself off of him but the way he nudged up against your walls had you crying out. “Fucking hell, that’s it, shit, baby, there you go.”

Baby.

Different than sweetheart, better, warmer, holding less sarcasm, making you feel sticky sweet with it, his words cloying, his hands on your skin even more so.

You were panting, skin slick, too warm despite the snow piling up higher and higher outside and the noises that fell from the back of your throat only seemed to spur Steve on. He was greedy with it, hyper focused on making you come again, ‘cause he wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go on without seeing you fall apart for him again. He liked the way his name sounded on your tongue, how you grabbed and scratched at him when you wanted more.

He wanted it again and again and again—

“What d’you need?” Steve asked, voice cracking in the middle when he lifted his hips to meet yours.

You cried out, eyes glassy, falling into him so you could wrap your arms around his neck and press your chest to his. “More,” you murmured back, “more of you.”

You didn’t know what that meant, and neither did Steve, not really but it made him smile because you were so past gone on him it wasn’t even funny. So you let him manhandle you, rolling you both until he had you pinned to the mattress and he hitched one leg over a forearm, holding you open so he could drive into you deeper.

“Like that?” Steve asked and you nodded, fingers tripping down your skin until they landed in your clit and you rubbed circles there, clenching down on him when you hit that right spot. “Oh shit, oh shitshitshit, please tell me you’re close.”

Steve’s thrust started to stutter, his rhythm picking up as he slammed into you a little harder, a little deeper and your eyes shuttered closed as you got what you wanted. More of Steve. You nodded, mouth falling open, jaw slack and Steve used his free hand to run his palm up your body, pinching at a nipple before letting his fingers rest at the base of your throat as he fucked up into you.

“Steve,” you gasped and he moaned back, a strangled sound that might’ve been your name too and he could feel you tightening around him again, just like you did around his fingers and then you were cursing into the dim of his bedroom, clutching tightly at the boy when he came too, arms shaking with the effort of holding himself over you until he buried his face into the crook of your neck and swore.

“That— that was—”

You nodded, skin still tingling. “Yeah,” you croaked, “that was, yeah.”

“—so fuckin’ good.”

“So much better.”

“Holy shit, we’re good at that.”

“Insane.”

“There’s a lot to be said for listening in class, huh?”

...

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader smut

983 notes · View notes

winterchimez · 7 months

Text

Forbidden | Ji Changmin

SUMMARY: you have been separated from your childhood best friend, Changmin for years. so when you both finally reunite on a mission together, he is no longer the childhood friend you have once come to know of, and things were going to take a turn for the both of you.

PAIRING: spy Changmin x spy f!reader

GENRE: ex-bffs to lovers au, angst, crime, suggestive

WARNINGS: nc-17, violence, mentions of gambling, mentions of human trafficking, kissing, making out

WORD COUNT: 3,168

A/N: here is the 3rd entry from my 100 followers event, and this was requested by my 妹妹 @sungbeam 💕 the way you chose that specific prompt lmao i knew i had to deliver some ✨good food✨ for you, and i hope it was worthy of your taste miss beam 😮‍💨 (it might be a bit rushed so i humbly apologise i wrote this in one sitting)

“Agent Y/N, reporting in.”

You knocked at your boss's door and stood there enthusiastically, awaiting your next mission.

It has been a while since you were deployed on field missions, hence the excitement you felt when you received a code entitled “S-Rank”, which indicated the highest rank of difficulty of missions that only a selected few are allowed to participate in.

You have been with your current agency for a few years, and through hard work and determination, you rose up to one of the higher-ranking agents in the field. With that, you are mostly deployed on the field, dealing with many missions that are far more gruesome and dangerous, which could eventually cost you your life if you weren’t careful enough. But you were a fighter—a soldier equipped with wits and extraordinary martial arts skills.

As a result, you have been placed on training duties where you were assigned to train the new recruits to prepare them as they make their official debut on the field. Not that you were entirely mad about it, since martial arts was one of your fortes, but you surely miss being on the field and on an actual mission.

Hence, you couldn’t contain your excitement for the day, and you couldn’t wait to gear back up and return to your comfort zone.

Your boss—Director Ji, was pretty pleased with the number of upcoming recruits that were going to officially join the team, as several agents were currently abroad to fulfill their own missions. In other words, your company desperately needs potential ones who could take on field missions.

This time, however, he hands you a red folder with all the necessary information about the mission. You knew what the red folder exactly meant—ones that could indeed cause a life or death situation, and there is no room for even a single mistake for this one. Usually, these were given to the elites, not even to higher-ranking agents like yourself.

The Elites are the best of the best, and they excel in every possible scenario or situation that they are in, no matter how brutal the mission may be. They do not engage much with the other agents except for the director himself, as they are often sent away far abroad to handle much more trivial matters at hand.

If your director has handed you such a folder where it’s not meant for you on a usual basis, that could only mean one thing. You were to step in as a substitute and be paired with at least one of the members from the elites and fulfill the mission as swiftly and hassle-free as possible.

As you were about to turn back and take your leave, your director stopped you just in time to inform you that this mission requires some more training than usual, and you were to be paired up with one of them to prepare for the big day.

Training with one of the elites? Obviously, how could you ever say no? It is definitely a dream come true for you as you have always admired them from the shadows. Enthusiastically, you nodded and agreed with the offer as you stepped out of the room.

“This is going to be so much fun.”

“I could teach you how to fight, but I wasn’t equipped to take care of you.”

The brunette shoots you with that cold and blunt statement, and in return, you give the male the biggest frown of the day.

As much as you were enthusiastic the entire morning as you prepared yourself for whoever would join you for the mission, the excitement immediately died down when the infamous elite member, Ji Changmin, stepped foot into the training room.

Your ex-childhood best friend.

Both you and Changmin go all the way back to kindergarten, you both were literally neighbours up till high school. You have spent both of your childhood together, to the point that you both knew exactly what were the biggest insecurities each of you had, even knowing how many crushes you had and how you both are hopeless romantics.

But as Changmin and his family moved away after graduating high school, you both lost contact with one another, never speaking or keeping in touch for many years.

Until you graduate from university.

Somehow, you have managed to stumble upon the Director’s Ji company, which he has been operating secretly for many years—thanks to one of your seniors who recommended you to him. He was more than delighted to take you in, knowing how you eventually pursued criminology and eventually keen on the idea of becoming a spy yourself.

That was when you were reunited with Ji Changmin. You were beyond ecstatic when you first saw him in person again. You wanted to run into him, give him the biggest embrace, and take in all his scent—one you have missed so dearly after all these years.

But the male eventually shut you off before you could do anything. He was nowhere near like the Changmin you used to grow up and love—he was now cold, often very stern, and would work alone instead rather than with others.

Because of that, you have never gotten the chance to talk things out with him, and you realise that it’s best for you to keep a distance from him now.

Never in a million years would that day come so soon for you both to reunite on a S-Rank Mission.

His simple yet cold statement immediately ruined your mood, and you were about to fire back at the male. But he was already prepared with his gear and gloves, waiting for you to join him on the training mat.

Given his demeanour, you knew that dragging his time would be a fatal mistake right now, and you had no choice but to equip yourself with the necessary items and join him as fast as you could.

As you make your way to his way, you can’t help but notice his appearance. His hair was parted to the side, and a little scar was situated right on his left cheek. He was wearing a simple black tee, but you couldn’t help but notice how buff he had gotten and how the shirt was clearly a little too tight for him.

The way his biceps were clearly so toned than ever, and god. The veins—

“When will you stop ogling and get yourself together?” He shoots you with an unfriendly look. Clearly, his patience is running out.

“Fine. God, what an impatient man you have become.” You blurted out by accident, eyes widening as you just realised you had let out your frustration and most inner thoughts. You looked up to meet the male face-to-face, only to realise that he was not bothered by that comment at all.

He has dealt with much worse before, this is nothing to him.

As you finally got into your position, you raised both of your now balled-up fists and stood in a defensive mood, ready for whatever moves the male would lay upon you. Unfortunately, you were a bit too slow to notice the swift movement he had made, and immediately, you were on the ground, groaning as you felt a slight pain upon your lower chin.

“Just so you know, I won’t go easy on you just because you are a girl. I’ll have you know that the enemies we deal with on S-Rank missions are far more murderous and barbaric than you have ever encountered. They could potentially become your worst nightmare. If this is how you will act on the field, I’m afraid you will lose your life within minutes.” Changmin spat, and boy, did it hurt as hell.

Angered, you got back up on your feet as you repositioned yourself again, trying your best to keep up with his swift movements this time.

This training went on for quite a while, and never once did you manage to land a blow on Changmin himself. Instead, you were constantly attacked at your blind spots and always on the ground, trying to find your way back up again.

God, this is going to be a hell of a ride.

The intense training with Changmin lasted for a few days, and the amount of bruises you have gotten thanks to him was uncountable.

Every day, you would return home and find yourself sitting by your bedside, applying an ice pack and ointment to each and every one of them. It has been quite a while since you have felt like this.

Humiliated and defeated.

This only happened when you were still a rookie, as you were training with your superiors then. Ever since you made your debut, you have done nothing but win in all the physical battles you have dealt with, both on and off the field.

“I could teach you how to fight, but I wasn’t equipped to take care of you.”

His words constantly echo into your mind, and you just can’t seem to get it off as much as you wanted. No matter how cruel they seemed, you knew his words meant well for you.

This is a S-Rank mission, for goodness sake, Y/N. It is either you defeat the enemy or be defeated yourself.

Taking in a deep breath as you closed your eyes, you just mentally prayed and hoped that all of the intense training with your ex-childhood best friend has at least done something for you and that you will be well-prepared as you both head into your designated location for tomorrow night.

Let’s just get this done and over with.

The both of you arrived discreetly at the location, equipped with a radio earpiece to receive necessary transmissions from one another to keep each other in the loop as you both parted ways to scout around the area.

The target of the mission was to infiltrate one of the largest and most well-known casinos in the heart of Seoul, The Grand Palace, as it is believed that the area itself was used for human trafficking, which explains the sudden disappearance of a handful of women in their early 20s over the past few months.

According to the information you both were given, as written in the red folder, the CEO of the casino, Mr Kim, was the mastermind behind all of this and had his men surrounding the casino at all times to prevent information from spreading while keeping his gambling business on the run.

Both of your mission was to infiltrate the control room—download all of the necessary information that could potentially expose the hidden and true business the casino was making money from. And, of course, to get the girls out of there once and for all.

Changmin suggested taking on the latter as he knew the area would be armed with more enemies to keep the girls out of reach. It was best suited for him to take on the role of doing the dirty work instead of you potentially. In return, you were to get to the control room and bypass the security, download the necessary data, get out of there, and pass it on to the FBI, who were already armed and ready for your signal.

So that was precisely what you did, with no room for arguments this time. It was kind of a maze to navigate to the control room, especially when the casino was filled with many individuals and the place was dark as hell. Yet, you had to bypass everyone while being undetected. To the best of your abilities, you eventually reached the destination, and sure enough, you were met with your worst nightmare.

Tons of red light laser security filled the room way before the entrance to the control room.

You were flexible, to say the least, but there is no way you could bypass all of these on your own. Whenever you were met in such a situation, you always had your superior or partner to figure it out together. But time was ticking, and you had no choice but to do it all alone this time.

As you slowly bent through each of the lasers and eventually made your way to the last one, you breathed in relief that there was no one around to notice your presence. But your happiness did not last for long, as you missed out on one of the lasers that was situated close to your right ankle. Sure enough, the alarms have begun going off.

Panicking, you tried your best to figure out an escape route as quickly as possible. But given the room's darkness, it was impossible to notice anything in particular.

That is until a lightbulb dings in your mind, and you look up to see a slightly ajar air vent.

It’s now or never.

With the equipment you were geared up with, you somehow managed to quickly get into the vent right before security guards came pouring into the room, trying to find the culprit behind all of this.

You began trying to calm your fast-beating heart down, that is, until you felt a pair of warm hands cupped over your mouth.

“Have they not taught you well how the very first rule of becoming a spy is not to get caught?”

That voice. It was Changmin.

You turned behind to find the male looking very displeased, and he was still cupping your mouth, not letting it go as he was convinced your breathing would definitely blow up both of your covers. Frustrated, you tried your best to fight against his grip, loosening yourself from him and yelling back at him silently.

“Look, laser securities was not my best forte.”

“That’s not a valid excuse, Y/N. You literally had one job, and you failed at doing so.”

You scoffed. “Really, Changmin? After all these years, you suddenly show up in my life again, only to turn into this cold-blooded spy with zero empathy left inside of him? Has becoming one of the elites affected your ego that much?”

Then, there was a slight pause. Changmin’s face then darkens as he scooches closer to you. “Don’t you dare say it as if you knew what I have been through over the years that we were separated from one another.”

Clearly, you were not backing down this time. “Oh yeah, then tell me. All the bullshit you went through made you turn into such a heartless individual.”

In the blink of an eye, Changmin cups his hands around your mouth once again as he pushes you down on the surface of the vent. He is now crawling up against you, moving in closer to you.

“You take that back right now, miss Y/N. I swear if I ever hear one more word from you—”

“Then what?” You muffled.

Then it all happened. Changmin did what he knew was best to shut you up. As swiftly as he often portrays with his martial arts abilities, he removes his hand from your mouth and plants a kiss directly onto your lips. The whole thing was aggressive and messy, as one would say, he was now kissing you messily, trying by all means to keep your mouth shut as the enemies were still down below.

On the other hand, you were far too taken aback by what happened, and your eyes were now as wide as they could ever be. Somehow, your body did not reject his touch or the kiss, in fact, you actually liked it.

Was it because you were too deprived of having him close to you? How badly you have missed him so much?

And how you never got to confess to him that you had feelings for him right before he left all those years ago.

This kiss was a dream come true for you. And you were not planning to let him go anytime soon. Instead, you moved your hands to tangle in his hair as you opened your mouth slightly to allow for more room for the both of you. Changmin then lays one of his hands on the side of your waist while the other travels up to one of your breasts, giving them a light squeeze. Adding to the tension, he then makes way for his tongue to enter your mouth, trying his best to devour up all of the elicit moans that you were letting out to keep this whole make-out session as quiet as possible.

And god, how much he loved hearing the moans coming out from you.

Neither of you planned on stopping anytime soon because this all felt so good. It was as if you both had longed for each other and now that you finally had, you were not going to let him go just yet.

Finally, after minutes, the both of you were gasping for air when Changmin realised that nobody was in the room anymore. The coast was clear, and both of you were safe enough to return and continue the mission.

Trying your best to steady your breathing again, you decided to shoot the male with a little tease. “You treat all of your ladies like this?”

“...Shut up.”

It did not take you both long enough to be able to infiltrate the control room. With your abilities, you both managed to knock out all of the individuals in the room cold while you went to the main system to download all of the information needed to expose the casino. As ordered by Changmin previously, you wasted no time leaving the premises as soon as possible to get help from the FBI.

While you were doing that, Changmin made his way to where the girls were kept captive and defeated all the guards on standby on his own. He then managed to free them all and escorted them out, where the police and medical assistants were already waiting for them.

At the end of the day, the mission was a huge success, and the mastermind and his team were eventually placed behind bars, facing life imprisonment as punishment.

After returning to your headquarters a few days later, you were then promoted to joining the elites by Director Ji himself, as he was pleased with your performance. However, there was one strict rule that these agents were to follow.

Never engage in personal matters with one another.

Before you could think about it further, your phone buzzed and you exited your agency, feeling slightly excited as you made your way into the black vehicle already waiting for you.

As soon as you opened the door and entered, you stared at the male with one of his hands on the steering wheel while the other came up to cup your cheek.

“Say, won’t your dad eventually discover all of this?” You questioned with a concerned look on your face.

Changmin then leans in to give a peck on your lips.

“Who says he needs to find out about it?”

masterlist

taglist: @deoboyznet @kflixnet @k-films @flwoie @hokupi @zzoguri @kyusqult @tinkerbell460 @cheonsafics @sulkygyu @jaerisdiction @vernyangel (join my permanent taglist here!)

167 notes · View notes

sarioh · 2 years

Text

i think a fundamental difference between ethubs in last life and bdubs and impulse in double life isn’t really that etho didn’t know how to love bdubs, because he did, evidently. he killed for bdubs twice, stole for him, broke the rules for him, and he said it at the end, from the afterlife, when no one was around to hear. bdubs knew as well, as he proudly asserted to the other reds on the snow fort. it’s more that love was very much equated to violence in last life. you don’t prove it through words, you prove it by killing for each other, by showing that you’d die for each other--death itself was the currency for love. but that’s not really the case now, since your life is tied to your partner. you can’t die for them. so how can bdubs possibly prove his devotion to impulse, if he can’t show it the only way he knows how to? how can he ever be sure that impulse is devoted to him in the same way he was sure that etho was?

bdubs makes up for this deficit by stealing, by looting, taking the gold from someone’s chest to make the clock, hurting others to appease impulse. all the while impulse was in the mines, collecting the gold through his own hard work, the only sacrifice he made being his own time.

what impulse knows that bdubs doesn’t is that love doesn’t have to be sacrifice or bloodshed. it can be unconditional and it can be pure. it can be kindness, and sincerity, and simple gestures. it can be putting your bed next to someone, building a house with them, getting old with them. love doesn’t have to be death--it can be life, instead.

#double life smp #impulsesv #bdoubleo100 #ethubs #impdubs #???#SORRY. SORRY im just seeing some ppl talk about how bdubs was let down by etho and thats why he doesnt know how to devote himself to impuls #but i dont really think thats the case. i think that its just that the type of love expected of him has changed and he cant deal with it #i dont like the idea of minimizing the devotion and loyalty between bdubs and etho #maybe its cuz im so attached to ethubs but. I do think that etho and bdubs loved each other. i think they knew that they did #but they arent USED to a more Pure type of love. it has to be proven through violence and betrayal #rio posts #meta

2K notes · View notes

junkdrawerfics · 11 months

Text

Swan Sisters (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Bella and Sister!Reader

Summary: You get dragged into dress shopping in Port Angeles with the girls, which turns out to be a good thing considering Bella is a magnet for danger! Jasper is not in this one cause it got too long!

Word Count: 3534

Warnings: some violence (self defense) and allusion to/attempted assault (Port Angeles scene) also possibly horrid writing, I've been up for 24 hours!

---

“How was the beach?”

You meet Bella at the door, fluttering around her hectically as she toes her boots off and shakes stray droplets from her coat. She hits you with a look, the ‘calm down before I walk right back out of here’ look. Smiling apologetically, you back off a few paces, though you can’t stop the habitual leg bouncing.

She obviously had something planned last night, when you talked about La Push. Waiting is not exactly your forte these days. After wasting a couple hours working, you called Alice, who hadn’t seen anything, a common occurrence when the wolves are involved somehow. So wait you did, not that it was easy. The living room is in a completely different arrangement than it was this morning.

“It was fine. It rained a bit, but everyone seemed to have fun. I think I convinced Angella to ask Eric out,” she recounts once she hangs up her coat and starts towards the living room.

“Really? Angella and Eric? Huh.” You never thought of that, but they do seem like a perfect pair. Eric’s not too crazy and Ang- Wait, she’s trying to distract you! Focusing back in you, you prod a little further, “Besides that, did anything happen? Any coincidental Jacob appearances?”

‘Coincidental’ because you know of Jacob’s little crush on your sister. If he heard about Forks kids showing up on the reservation, he’d probably show up out of pure curiosity.

“Yup.”

Hm, the shut out approach. Smart. Unfortunately for her, you are now undying, which means an eternal amount of stubborn snooping.

“How’s he?”

“Fine, Billy’s good too.”

“That’s nice.” You give her just enough time to sit down and reach for the tv remote before plopping down next to her, your next question spilling out, “What did you guys talk about?”

Bella rolls her eyes, “Are we playing twenty questions?”

“Until I figure out what you were planning last night before dad came in,” you reply, just as snarkily, “So?”

“Fine,” she huffs, “I got him to tell me about the legend behind why they don’t like the Cullens. Happy?”

“How’d you do that?” This question is just for fun.

A lot of fun, considering Bella goes positively red, pursing her lips in discomfort.

“I might have…flirted with him,” she mumbles, scratching the back of her neck.

Oh the poor boy. Being exposed to that so young, he’ll never be the same. And to think, Bella can actually successfully flirt! You can’t stop yourself from snickering, which makes Bella look even more miserable.

“It’s alright, Bells.” You try to reassure her, but there’s no hiding the amusement in your voice, and she just glares at you. “Sometimes you just have to use your feminine wiles to get your way, you know?”

She groans, head dropping into her hands. Her voice comes out muffled when she growls, “I hate you so much.”

The laugh you let out is truly a cackle, completely evil in intent, “You could never.”

“I am this close.” She holds out her fingers, except they are pressed firmly together, which just makes you laugh harder.

It takes a moment for you to calm down again. It’s a good thing you don’t need air, otherwise you’d be gasping, ribs aching. But now you can laugh as much as you want, as long as you want. A weird perk, but one you enjoy.

“So,” you start again, wiping a nonexistent tear from your eye, “What did you learn?”

Bella shifts, just enough to cast you a sidelong glance. Her eyes, thoughtful, calculating, seem to look straight through you as she considers her words carefully. You wish she would just spit it out, but it’s not too hard to guess what she might be thinking.

“He said that the Cullens are some enemy clan, and that they have some treaty with the Quileutes that keep them off the reservation,” she finally explains, though her tone is clipped.

“An enemy clan, huh?”

That makes sense. You get the feeling that there’s more to what Jacob said, something about what you are, but you don’t press further. Whether she figures it out or not, you’re not too worried anymore. Alice’s visions always come true, and your stubbornness alone will deter the more gruesome ending.

You look at her face. There’s no fear in her expression as she meets your gaze. So maybe he didn’t say too much. But there’s still something. She has to know something. You catch yourself, humming at the realization that you want her to know something.

Maybe the quicker she figures it out, the quicker that future will come true.

You give her knee a soft squeeze and push yourself back to your feet, “Whelp, I’m glad you had fun, Bells. You should talk to Jacob more often, he’s a smart kid.”

Her brow furrows, confusion flooding her face at your conspiratorial grin. With a quick wink, you dart upstairs, leaving Bella positively bewildered much to your own amusement.

---

Not much changes the days following the conversation. The weather gets a little sunnier, meaning the Cullens don’t go to school and you get a few off days with Jasper. Bella doesn’t mention their absence, much to your surprise.

It’s almost like things are normal for a little bit.

She even invites you to Port Angeles for prom dress shopping, which prompted the question-

“You’re going to prom?!”

And the subsequent answer.

“No.” Said with such disdain, you let it drop immediately.

Even so, that’s how you find yourself here, watching Angela and Jessica try on dresses while Bella stares out the window, lost in thought. It’s a good thing that you know the girls from your time in Forks High, otherwise this would be so awkward.

Maybe that’s why she just invited you, to spare herself the pain of doing it alone.

“I like that one on you, Ang,” you chirp, “Lavender is totally your color.”

“Yah?” She smiles meekly, looking down at herself.

“Totally! Don’t you think Bella?” You give your sister a hard elbow to the ribs, making her jump and glare at you before turning to her friend.

“Definitely, Angela, you look beautiful.” At least she’s trying.

The two more normal girls go back to fussing over their dresses. Watching them gives you a dull sense of nostalgia. It’s been so long since you’ve done something like this with humans. Since you’ve been able to.

“So, (Y/n), are you still dating Jasper Hale?” Jessica suddenly pipes up, eyeing you with poorly hidden jealousy.

Ah, that, you haven’t missed. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Bella smothering a smug smile. Karma.

“I am,” you reply shortly.

“Is that weird?” She presses as she stares at herself in the mirror, messing with a pair of white gloves. “Ya know, since you graduated and he’s still in school?”

“No. I skipped a grade, so we’re about the same age.” Not even close, technically, but appearance wise it is.

“Still-”

Thankfully, or unfortunately, she’s cut off by a sudden knock on the window. A group of men walk by, whooping and catcalling. Angela and Jessica flinch and shuffle away from the glass, faces twisting with discomfort. You frown, a sudden flare of anger flushes through you.

You jump in front of the girls, flipping the bird at the men as you bark a low, “Piss off!”

It doesn’t do much to damper their attitudes, since they’re probably too buzzed to notice the typically unnerving edge you carry as a vampire. Anger simmers low and hot in your gut. What happened to common decency?

“That is uncomfortable,” Jessica mumbles.

“But really cool, of you, (Y/n),” Angela murmurs, voice touched with awe, “Thanks.”

“Oh please, it’s only decent,” you grumble and slump back into your seat, “I can’t believe that.”

You’re tempted to go rip their heads off, but that wouldn’t look too good.

“It’s disgusting,” Bella agrees, looking just as frustrated.

You fall into a tense silence. It’s tense to you at least, but that’s probably because you’re watching the window like a hawk, as if they’ll come back at any moment. For their sake, you hope they don’t. Their death would not be pleasant. No, you’d make sure-

“What do you think of this one, Bella?”

Oh right, dress shopping. Probably not the best time to get swept up in murderous thoughts.

“It looks great.”

You snort. Is it possible to sound less enthusiastic?

“You’ve said that about, like, the last five dresses,” Jessica says with a grimace-like smile.

Bella shrugs, “I thought they were all pretty great.”

Angela, who’s observant nature rivals even Edward’s, picks up on her reluctance easily, “You’re not really into this, are you?”

“I actually just really wanted to go to this bookstore.”

You perk up a little in interest, eyeing your sister, “A bookstore?”

She noticably avoids your stare as she nods. Curious. Maybe something to do with her talk with Jacob?

“Well let’s go to this bookstore of yours then! We’ll catch you girls at the restaurant?” A charismatic smile and they agree easily. You tug Bella up by her arm, though she quickly jostles out of your grip with a soft glare.

“You don’t have to come,” she grumbles.

“Hmmm, stay here dress shopping for a prom I’m not going to or accompany my twig-like sister around a dangerous town?” You pretend to mull it over, rubbing your chin theatrically, and Bella rolls her eyes. “I’m afraid I’ll have to go with the ladder. For your safety, of course.”

“I can hold my own.”

Swan stubbornness.

“A gust of wind could knock you over, Bells. Or worse, a nice patch of wet concrete.”

No need to remind her of all the times you’ve watched her trip on nothing. The girl was frightfully uncoordinated. Plus, you’d heard word of some strange “animal” attacks nearby. It’s safer if you’re with her.

Though the trip turns out to be mostly uneventful. You walk to a small store, Thunderbird and Whale Bookstore, who’s clerk gives you a weird look as you puruse the indigenous literature. Not completely abnormal, given your appearance. Just abnormal enough to make you wonder, not too abnormal that people ask. But the legends of their people definitely make you more conscious of your human habits.

Breathe. In. Out. Blink. Shuffle.

Until he focuses on Bella as she comes up to him with a book.

You peer over her shoulder at the cover. Quileute Legends. Seems you right.

She shifts, blocking your sight as she tucks the book to her chest. With a quick thank you and goodbye, you’re back on the street. The restaurant shouldn’t be too far.

“So…Quileute legends?”

“Yep.”

You huff, “You’re so boring sometimes, Bella.”

She meets you tick for tick, “You’re so annoying sometimes, (N/n).”

Unconsciously, you catch the sound of heavy footsteps down a nearby road.

“That’s my job,” you chirp, slinging an arm over her shoulders, to draw her close, just to be careful.

“I thought you’re job was to teach me about makeup and boys and all that,” she snorts back.

The footsteps get louder.

Pretending to be playful, you pull her hood up, synching it over part of her face, “What do you want to know, hm?”

Bella looks at you, glare equal parts amused and irritated, until she catches the faintest glimmer of unease in your eyes. You smile, but it’s forced, too stiff, unnarturally sharp. She grip the book closer to her chest. As you push her into an alley, she catches sight of the two men walking where you had.

And they catch sight of the two of you. A glint sparks in their eyes. An all too familiar one. The hunt has begun.

“Keep walking, Bells, please.” You urge, voice tight.

Their gaze burns on the back of your neck, much like it had at the dress store, dripping with hunger. It brings back every memory of walking through Port Angeles alone. The fear, gripping your mace with white fingers, keys held like claws in your other hand. All because men like them think they are entitled to touch touch touch-

Rage simmers up your throat.

Any other day you could show them what that fear is like. How it feels to be hunted. But you’re too aware of Bella tucked under your arm, one hand curling around your wrist so tight, it would break if you weren’t made of marble. She would see. As much as you want her to know, this is not how you want her to figure it out.

So you clamp down on the rage. Dismembering them might not be the best solution anyways.

Though it sounds more appealing as you step out of the alley and watch the last of the drunken men slither out from the shadows. Disgusting snakes. They were waiting for you.

“Hey, where you running to?”

“There they are.”

Bella flinches, and you envision their blood spilled over the pavement, fizzling alongside their beer. Something inside you craves it, longs to see these men wounded in the same way they hurt young women. But you keep it locked down. Not yet. Not unless it’s necessary, you snarl to yourself.

“Stay close to me, Bella,” you murmur, arm like a metal guard around her shaking, frail shoulders.

The girl merely nods. Her eyes are wide, unblinking, like a china doll.

You will protect her. At all costs.

Head kepts low, you try to force yourself forward, through the men, but they close in like vultures around you.

“Woah, woah, woah, where are you going?”

“Yah, why don’t you hang out with us?” They chorus in agreement.

Your eyes dart around, looking for any way to escape. There’s maybe ten men, and you feel your throat tighten with each step they take towards you. With each step, Bella’s heartrate spikes, panic flickering over her features. You pull her impossibly closer.

You go rigid when a scorchingly hot, sweaty hand gropes your butt. Snarling, you slap it away, disgust burning a pit in your gut.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” you warn, though your eyes flicker between their identical, sickening smirks, unable to tell who did it. If Jasper were here, they’d all die for it. They still might.

“Oh, she doesn’t like that.”

“Feisty one, eh?”

“What about this one?”

Everything slows down for just a split second.

Another reaching hand, palm covered in sweat and beer, nails rimmed with dirt, skin smudged with oil. Ready to touch. Ready to take whatever it wants. Reaching for your sister.

Fast - too fast - you block his way. Bella gasps almost inaudibly behind you, but you’re too distracted as you catch the man’s wrist. His face goes stark white at your crushing grip, and it’s like the clouds clearing, his eyes setting on you for the first, real time. The fear glinting in their depths gives you a sick sense of satisfaction.

“Keep your disgusting, filthy hands off my sister,” you hiss slowly and give his wrist a deft twist.

The satisfying pop paired with his pained yelp is music to your ears.

Alongside the sound of screeching tires.

Edward.

Bella barely has time to breathe as you shove her towards the Volvo as it skids to a stop, barely catches the imperseptible nod you give Edward as he steps out. Ignoring her sputtering, you push her into the front seat.

“What the h-”

“Just stay put,” you grumble and slide into the backseat.

You don’t watch as Edward approaches the men. You don’t care to see their faces again. If you do, you just might turn around and break the remaining wrists. Maybe that would keep them from laying their hands on any innocents again.

Eyes flickering shut, you let every muscle in your body go still. It helps somehow, like you’re resetting. You focus on the sound of Bella’s breathing, how it slows down, and how her heart eventually returns to a normal rhythm.

It picks up a fraction when Edward slips back in, slamming his door hard enough to make the car shake.

“Hold on tight,” you whisper, mostly to yourself.

Bella turns to look at you, but gasps and clutches at her armrests when Edward whips right out of the lot. The man drives like usual, like he’s trying escape the depths of hell. This time, you don’t give him grief for it though.

“I should go back and rip their heads off,” Edward snarls, fingers going somehow paler around the steering wheel.

“No. Bad idea-”

“Sounds good to me-”

Bella shoots you a glare. With an unapologetic shrug, you turn to watch the trees race by. They might not have hurt the two of you, but there’s no doubt in your mind that they’ve done the same thing to some other poor soul. They deserve to rot.

“You don’t know the vile things they were thinking.”

You resist the urge to slap your forehead. Or him.

“And you do?” Bella’s brow furrows.

Cover it up, cover it up, you idiot.

“Not hard to guess.”

Better than that, Edward.

The glare he sends you through the rearview mirror is remarkably similar to your sister’s. They really will make a lovely match. Good thing they can’t have kids, what with the amount of disapproval they can put together.

“Good thing you were visiting Port Angeles, huh Edward?” You tease with a lecherous grin pointed right back at him.

“You were just…visiting.” Bella’s voice rings with suspicioun.

Edward grinds his teeth, “Yup. Visiting.”

The word is slowly losing all meaning.

You settle back into your seat as an awkward silence fills the cabin. If you didn’t know better, you would think Edward was just another inexperienced teenager, new to the whole love thing. Though, he still looks ready to murder those guys, based on his black glare barely focused on the road.

Remembering them brings back a new feeling. Not fear, but a remanent, the faintest lingering of anxiety that makes you grit your teeth. Dread maybe, because you can’t help but wonder - what if it happened a year ago? It’s pointless, you know, but there’s no banishing the images that come to mind.

Something hollow opens in your chest as you shake your head, as if that will dislodge them.

Edward glances back at you again. His gold eyes crease with concern, but ignoring him seems better than admitting to something so stupid. You’re a vampire now, nothing like that will happen. Instead, you let thoughts of Jasper fill your mind. His smile. His eyes. Anything to keep you distracted until you’re in his arms.

Bella must tell Edward where to go, because the next thing you know, you’re pulling up to the restaurant you were meant to meet Jessica and Angela at. They are barely walking out the door as you park. Bella jumps out, probably to greet them, and Edward goes to follow, but you stop him with a hand on his elbow. Gold eyes flash back to meet yours, still concerned and questioning.

“Thank you,” you all but whisper, squeezing his elbow gently.

His features soften, a small, genuine smile flashing over his lips, “Go. I’ll take care of Bella. Alice told Jasper about tonight, he needs you just as much right now.”

Those words wash over you like a warm tide. Somehow, the thought of Jasper in a rage over your safety, despite you being almost stronger than him now, makes you feel a little better. His protectiveness almost matches your own, though yours spans to practically everyone around you.

Speaking of.

You slip out of the car and give Bella one last once over. She looks…okay. No bruises. No lingering fear. Like it never happened. Satisfied, you nod to yourself and pull her into a tight, almost crushing hug. She jumps, wheezing out a soft laugh.

“I’m fine, (Y/n).”

“I know, I know. Just, stay with Eddie, okay? He’ll get you food and take you home.”

Bella frowns, “Where are you going?”

“To see Jasper.” You offer her a guilty smile, though she nods her understanding. “Eddie called him right before he got to us, so he’s freaking out a little.” Another nod. “Love you, Bells.”

“Love you, too.”

One last squeeze and you pull away, offering the two other girls a short wave, “Night girls, get home safe, alright?”

“You too, (Y/n)!”

“It was nice seeing you again.”

As you turn to leave, you hear Bella flip on her heels, laughter in her voice, “Eddie?”

Edward’s following groan casts off the last of your dark clouds. You’ll pay for that somehow, you’re sure, but it’ll be totally worth the pure enjoyment it brings you. He hates it when you call him that. Almost as much as Bella hates it when you call her Tinkerbell. Another match.

The silver lining of this all is that you have a convenient reason to leave them alone together.

And based on the events of the night, Bella will probably have more questions than Edward can answer without lying. Plus the book. Everything’s lining up, it’ll just depend on how much Edward outs himself!

---

Part 5 (ending)

I hope y'all enjoyed! The next part will likely be the last! And sorry if you missed Jasper in this part :( I try to keep my stories to below 4k words, so I decided to keep that for the next part.

@avadakadabra93

@glaciuswduo

#x reader #reader #reader insert #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight saga #twilight #swan reader #swan sisters

386 notes · View notes

gulnarsultan · 1 year

Note

Ok, I saw that your request is open, but I decided to make sure (since my request is quite specific). I wanted to make a request to the only link between the blacks and the greens (I know Viserys occupies this spot, but in this case, it will be two people) Rhaenyra's daughter, perhaps Luke's twin. The greens adore her, she has created an incredible bond with Alicent (incredible as it may seem) she is like a mother figure, and both have become very attached to each other, and not only them, both sides of the story love her (so it would be a request yandere!black and green). As I said, she would be the strong link between them, when it comes to her, EVERYONE sits at a table without fights and violence in order to talk about her well-being.

Perhaps, at a party (or dinner, where everyone is present, black and green — if you can place Laennor...) and the reader is pestered by a man, he is flirting valiantly with her and even though she is denying all his advances , he doesn't stop. The family has very different reactions.

I'm sorry for the long request, if you could answer me so I know if you'll answer it, or if I was too rude filling you with information... Thank you so much for reading this far, honey 💗

Thanks for being so kind. I hope you will like it. Please feel free to write more requests.

Maybe you are Rhaenyra's firstborn. You are the twin brother or sister of Jaec or Luke. It doesn't matter to Rhaneyra. You are his favorite child. Maybe it's because you're your mother's only daughter, maybe because of the mother-daughter relationship she lost early in her life, or because she needed a sister/girlfriend who wouldn't betray her. You are a true Targaryen in all your qualities. Your wavy silver hair, pale skin, and violet eyes. You are special not only to your mother, but to everyone in the black team. Your brothers Rhaenys, Harwin, Corlys, Laena, Laennor, your grandfather Viserys, Daemon, Baela, Rhaena all have obsessive tendencies towards you. Keeping you safe and happy is their first priority. However, you are not only the apple of the eye of the black team, but also of the green team. Otto always saw you as his grandson. Alicentin sees you as her child, even if she never had the opportunity to say it out loud. Alicent is causing her children to develop obsessive tendencies towards you. And it supports these trends, causing them to worsen further. You may be the only reason why both sides agree. In fact, Laennor, Criston, Harwin and Daemon think they are your fathers. Each in his own opinion thinks that you are the only man worthy of being your father. Neither side will allow anyone to flirt with you or be your girlfriend. It pampers you to the fullest on both sides.

"Scenario "

A banquet was held at the Red Fort. Kids on both sides were fighting for your attention. You find the opportunity to get away from everyone for a few minutes. A Lord is approaching you.

"Hello Princess."

"Hello my lord."

"It's an honor to meet you."

"Thanks."

"I want to be friend with you."

"Thanks. But that's not possible."

"Why not? Besides, you're of marriageable age."

"Watch your tongue. Talking about such a subject is beyond your limits."

"Your mother didn't discipline you properly. Your husband will domesticate you."

In an instant, the Lord had collapsed before your eyes. Your mother and Alicent drew you in. The lord was immediately dragged into the dungeons. Your mother and Alicent were comforting you. There may be enemies on both sides, but when it comes to you, they even agree to fight together.

287 notes · View notes

rainbowstargazerlilies · 5 months

Text

Mechs Ships Tournament Master Post!

I'll be editing this as time goes on, so stay tuned!

TRANSPORT SHIPS BRACKET

Round 1:

Poll 1: Völuspá vs Lunar Cannon -- Winner: Lunar Cannon

Poll 2: Sky Train vs Tim's Death Ship -- Winner: Tim's Death Ship

Poll 3: SS Anderson vs Octokittens -- Winner: Octokitten

Poll 4: Fort Galfridian vs Muffet Spider-Class Fighter -- Winner: Fort Galfridian

Poll 5: Silvana vs Pandora -- Winner: Silvana

Poll 6: Moon Kaiser Life Pod vs Rose Red Behemoth -- Winner: Moon Kaiser Life Pod

Poll 7: Arthur's Life Pod vs Exploration Vessel Nalfgar -- Winner: Arthur's Life Pod

Round 2:

Poll 1: Gunpowder Tim Edition-- Lunar Cannon vs Tim's Death Ship -- Winner: Tim's Death Ship

Poll 2: Octokitten vs Fort Galfridian -- Winner-- Octokitten

Poll 3: Silvana vs Moon Kaiser Life Pod vs Arthur's Life Pod-- Arthur's Life Pod

SEMIFINAL:

Poll 1: Tim's Death Ship vs Octokitten vs Arthur's Life Pod -- Winner: Octokittens

Odette vs Aurora vs the Ratatosk Express -- Winner: Aurora

Final:

Aurora vs Octokittens

Runners Up:

Runner Up Poll

WINNER: AURORA

RELATIONSHIPS BRACKET:

Preliminary:

Poll 1: Brian/TS vs Brian/King Cole vs Mechs Fic Author/Angst Winner: Mechs Fic Author/Angst

Poll 2: Marquis De All The Knives/Gunpowder Tim vs Drumbot Beta/Drumbot Brian vs Marius/Ken vs Ariadne/Scheherazade Winner: Marquis/Tim

Poll 3: TS/Mechs QPR vs Bertie/Jonny/Tim vs Aurora/TARDIS (Dr Who) Winner: Bertie/Jonny/Tim

Poll 4: Marius/Tim vs Tim/Happiness vs King Cole/Jonah Magnus (TMA) Winner: Tim/Happiness

Poll 5: Drumbot Brian/Ivy vs Aurora/Nastya/Raphaella vs Ivy/Brain Cell Winner: Aurora/Nastya/Raphaella

Poll 6: Briar Rose/Cinders vs Apollo/Drumbot Brian vs Lyfrassir Edda/Martin (TMA) Winner: Briar/Cinders

Poll 7: Narcissus/Orpheus QPR vs Ashes/Ulysses vs Thor/Vengeance Winner: Narcissus/Orpheus QPR

Poll 8: Ashes/Brian/Tim vs King Cole/Moon Kaiser vs Lyfrassir Edda/A Nap vs Thor/Baldur QPR Winner: Lyf/Nap

Poll 9: Athena/Raphaella vs Lyf/Lif and Lifthrasir (Original Norse Myth) vs Briar/Jonny Winner: Athena/Raphaella

Poll 10: Brian/Ivy/Tim vs Ianthe/Iphis vs Lyfrassir Edda/A Break Winner: Lyf/A Break

Poll 11: Ashes/Brian/Ivy/Tim vs Penelope/Ulysses vs Heracles/Therapy/Anger Management Winner: Penelope/Ulysses

Poll 12: Ivy/Jonny vs Artemis/Actea/Lyssa vs Odin/Crawling Chaos Winner: Odin/Crawling Chaos

Poll 13: Raphaella/Victoria Frankenstein vs Train/YogSothoth vs Marquis De All The Knives/Knives vs Ivy/Raphaella/Sasha (TMA) Winner: Marquis/Knives

Poll 14: Carmilla/Raphaella vs Tim/Moon vs Elias (TMA)/Lyfrassir Edda vs Annabel (DONA)/Carmilla Winner: Tim/Moon

Poll 15: Aurora/Brian/Ivy vs Ashes/Brian/Nastya vs Jack Spratt/Jonny Winner: Jack/Jonny

Poll 16: Stranger and Partner from Stranger vs Brian/Galahad/Jonny vs Odin/Dr. Carmilla/Raphaella/Victoria Frankenstein TIE

Poll 17: Lyf/Yog Sothoth vs Jonny/Violence vs Ashes/Lyf vs Carmilla/William Afton (FNAF) Winner: Jonny/Violence

Poll 18: Ivy/Nastya vs bertie/the moon kaiser/queen (band)/queen george the 7th/the queen of hearts/queen elizabeth the second/queen elizabeth the onest/brian vs Fra’nika (Dames and Dragons/Legendlark)/Ivy Winner: Ivy/Nastya

Poll 19: Briar/Cinders/Red Hood vs Jonny/Narrative Flow vs Carlos (WTNV)/Raphaella (QPR) Winner: Jonny/Narrative Flow

Round One (finished 12/14)

Poll 1: Polymechs vs Mechs Fic Author/Angst Winner-- Polymechs

Poll 2: Tim/Narrative Flow vs Annabelle (TMA)/Carmilla/Odin Winner-- Tim/Narrative Flow

Poll 3: Marquis De All The Knives/Gunpowder Tim vs Nastya/Aurora Winner-- Nastya/Aurora

Poll 4: Aurora/Brian QPR vs Brian/Nastya QPR Winner-- Aurora/Brian QPR

Poll 5: Bertie/Jonny/Tim vs Ariadne/Power Winner-- Bertie/Jonny/Tim

Poll 6: Violinspector vs Tim/Happiness Winner-- Violinspector

Poll 7: Jonny/Tim/TS vs Siegfried/Odette Winner-- Siegfried/Odette

Poll 8: Loki/Sigyn vs Aurora/Nastya/Raphaella Winner-- Loki/Sigyn

Poll 9: Odin/Train vs DTTM Moons Winner-- Odin/Train

Poll 10: The Pendragons (Arthur/Gwen/Lancelot) vs Briar/Cinders Winner-- Pendragons

Poll 11: Ivy/Raphaella vs Narcissus/Orpheus QPR Winner-- Ivy/Raphaella

Poll 12: Lyf/Nap vs Hearteyes (Tim/Jonny) Winner-- Hearteyes

Poll 13: Athena/Raphaella vs Carmilla/Odin Winner-- Carmilla/Odin

Poll 14: Lyf/A Break vs Tim/Bertie Winner-- Tim/Bertie

Poll 15: Penelope/Ulysses vs Prison Mechs And Lyf Winner-- Prison Mechs And Lyf

Poll 16: Ashes/Tim vs Odin/Crawling Chaos Winner-- Ashes/Tim

Poll 17: Brian/Jonny/Tim vs Polymechs And Lyf Winner-- Polymechs And Lyf

Poll 18: Voluspa/Pandora vs Marquis De All The Knives/Dr Pilchard Winner-- Dr Knives

Poll 19: Cinders/Rose vs Prison Mechs Winner-- Cinders/Rose

Poll 20: Brian/Jonny vs Marquis De All the Knives/Knives Winner-- Brian/Jonny

Poll 21: Ivy/Tim vs Tim/Moon Winner-- Ivy/Tim

Poll 22: Marius/Raphaella vs Arachne/Scheherazade Winner-- Marius/Raphaella

Poll 23: Jack Spratt/Jonny vs Ashes/Jonny Winner-- Ashes/Jonny

Poll 24: Briar/Pandora vs Ivy/Nastya/Raphaella Winner-- Ivy/Nastya/Raphaella

Poll 25: Brian/Tim vs Jonny/Violence Winner-- Brian/Tim

Poll 26: Mordred/The Sun vs Jonny/TS Winner-- Jonny/TS

Poll 27: Ivy/Nastya vs Brian/Lyf (QPR) Winner-- Ivy/Nastya

Poll 28: Jonny/Raphaella vs Annabelle (TMA)/Carmilla Winner-- Jonny/Raphaella

Poll 29: Jonny/Narrative Flow vs Brian/Galahad Winner-- Brian/Galahad

Poll 30: Void/Azathoth vs Raphaella/Walls Of Hell Winner-- Raphaella/Walls Of Hell

Poll 31: Ashes/Ivy vs Hatter/Hare Winner-- Hatter/Hare

Poll 32: Stranger/Partner vs Odin/Yog Sothoth vs Brian/Galahad/Jonny Winner-- Stranger/Partner

Round Two

Poll 1: Polymechs vs Tim/Narrative Flow -- Winner: Polymechs

Poll 2: Nastya/Aurora vs Aurora/Brian QPR-- Winner: Nastya/Aurora

Poll 3: Bertie/Jonny/Tim vs Violinspector -- Winner: Violinspector

Poll 4: Tragic Lesbians In Space Edition: Siegfried/Odette vs Loki/Sigyn -- Winner: Loki/Sigyn

Poll 5: Odin/Train vs HNOC Trio-- Winner: HNOC Trio

Poll 6: Ivy/Raphaella vs Jonny/Tim -- Winner: Ivy/Raphaella

Poll 7: Carmilla/Odin vs Tim/Bertie -- Winner: Tim/Bertie

Poll 8: Prison Mechs And Lyf vs Ashes/Tim -- Winner: Prison Mechs and Lyf

Poll 9: Polymechs And Lyf vs Marquis De All The Knives/Dr Pilchard -- Winner: Polymechs And Lyf

Poll 10: Cinders/Rose vs Brian/Jonny -- Winner: Cinders/Rose

Poll 11: Ivy/Tim vs Marius/Raphaella -- Winner: Marius/Raphaella

Poll 12: Ashes/Jonny vs Ivy/Nastya/Raphaella -- Winner: Ivy/Nastya/Raphaella

Poll 13: Brian/Tim vs Jonny/TS -- Winner: Brian/Tim

Poll 14: Ivy/Nastya vs Jonny/Raphaella -- Winner: Ivy/Nastya

Poll 15: Brian/Galahad vs Raphaella/Walls Of Hell -- Winner: Brian/Galahad

Poll 16: (Surprise All Tim/Brian Edition): Hatter/Hare vs Stranger Partner -- Winner: Hatter/Hare

ROUND 3!

Poll 1: Polymechs vs Nastya/Aurora Winner: Polymechs

Poll 2: Violinspector vs Loki/Sigyn Winner: Loki/Sigyn

Poll 3: HNOC Trio vs Ivy/Raphaella Winner: HNOC Trio

Poll 4: Tim/Bertie vs Prison Mechs and Lyf Winner (AFTER RUNOFF): Prison Mechs And Lyf

Poll 5: Polymechs And Lyf vs Cinders/Rose Winner: Polymechs and Lyf

Poll 6: Marius/Raphaella vs Ivy/Nastya/Raphaella Winner: Ivy/Nastya/Raphaella

Poll 7: Brian/Tim vs Ivy/Nastya Winner: Brian/Tim

Poll 8: Brian/Galahad vs Hatter/Hare Winner: Hatter/Hare

Round 4

Poll 1: Polymechs vs Loki/Sigyn WENT TO RUNOFFS, BOTH WON

Poll 2: HNOC Trio vs Prison Mechs and Lyf HNOC Trio

Poll 3: Polymechs And Lyf vs Ivy/Nastya/Raphaella Polymechs and Lyf

Poll 4: Brian/Tim vs Hatter/Hare WENT TO RUNOFFS, NONE WON

Round 5

Poll 1: Polymechs And Lyf vs Loki/Sigyn-- Polymechs won

Poll 2: Polymechs vs HNOC Trio-- HNOC trio won.

Resurrection Round

Part 1: Nastya/Aurora won

Part 2: Violinspector won.

FINAL ROUND

#mechs ships tournament #the mechs #the mechanisms #so many ships

66 notes · View notes

wifetomegatron · 7 months

Text

one hundred and one nights (overlord/reader)

summary : reader gets abducted by overlord. he has an infatuation. pairing : overlord (idw) / afab! reader fandom : transformers idw continuity, more than meets the eye rating : e for explicit and mild descriptions of gore & dubious consent, minors don’t interact (mdni!), not safe for work (nsfw!) warnings : descriptions of violence, references to human disembodiment, human!reader, smut, sticky sexual interfacing tags : a lot of references to fairytail / folklore, mostly one-hundred and one nights & this goyard painting.

I. You've heard stories about him. Luna two, Garrus-nine, Hell's point. Albeit not from Swerve, or Chromedome, or Rodimus — that would be ridiculous. Impossible, even, when his name is already non-existent in the space of a ship big enough to fit thousands of Cybertornians. Not even a whisper, as if people were afraid that a slip of his name would be mistaken for a prayer and he would come to life, emerging from the shadowy corners of the Lost Light. Optics, sickly artificial red as they burn holes through the veil. But not even Primus would be as cruel as to materialize Overlord here. At least, you had hoped.

Only several nights before were you and Ratchet discussing him. The doctor knew you deserved an explanation for what transgressed over the weekend with Fort Max, Whirl, and Rung. On who he was, what he has done, and what he will continue to do if his spark wasn't sealed in a white vacuum — serpentine green drowning in nothing. The silence stretched for what felt like years, minutes solidifying themselves midair to bake the air thick. And your mouth was dry, face drained of its color. You didn't ask further, choosing to retreat into your room, where you made the last-minute decision to sleep with the lights on.

It was an irrational fear, you thought. To be afraid of someone light years away, deconstructed and stuffed in a box.

And yet here you are, trapped inside a prison chamber with him — limbs suspended, mouth curled into a grin.

II. It was a stupid accident. A stupid, preventable accident that could have been avoided if everyone had just sat down and listened to the noises Red Alert had been talking about. Their audials would have picked up the voices, the whispers, traveling through a crack big enough for you to slip into. Down the rabbit hole, you fell very slowly before hitting your shoulders square against the crown of Overlord’s head. Slipping ungracefully down an arm, and into the palm of his chained hand. You should have never taken directions from Whirl, because God knows how long it’ll take for the crew members to realize you were gone. And how many seconds left do you have to live, considering that you had conveniently fallen into his grip? A curse. A gift.

“What’s this?” He asked aloud. A dragon waking from his slumber, voice heavy as they echo throughout metal walls, “ Hm. They brought me a plaything.”

You couldn’t speak. Stunned mute as your head barely manages to recover from the impact. The chains rattled slightly, and he squeezed you — yet you were still intact. Surprisingly whole, save not for a few bruises. He says it’s because he’s bored. And that there’s no fun in having you bleed all over when he can’t clean himself up after.

He demanded you to speak and so you did, finding courage in your voice. Yet it sounded so tiny compared to his. And Overlord reveled in this. The more you tried to prove you weren’t afraid the more he’d tighten his grip, horrified to know that this level of self-restraint had (most likely) earned you a broken rib. You wonder what would happen if he had less motivation to keep you alive.

So you became Scheherazade and spoke softly in between trembling breaths. The boiling temperature inside this circular prison may very well be the Sahara, and if you flutter your eyes shut you can hear the sand dunes sing with the wind. And you lay in a dimly lit room with your new husband, spinning him a story so that he won’t plunge his blade past your sternum — the tip of his silver knife shimmering under firelight as they nick your pulse point. Overlord was your Shahryār, yet you wondered if he was just as curious as the prince or if he was too clever to be outwitted by a story. Most likely the latter. Yet maybe he’s just willing to play along, knowing that he will always be the cat, and never the bird. That there’s only one ending — for he has robbed you of your sunrise and conquered all your dusks— so might as well make it count.

III. But maybe Overlord should’ve killed you. He should’ve snapped you in half, and if the sight would have delighted him into a good mood, it would even be painless, quick. Yet instead, he decided that you were worth more than that. This cat wanted to play with his food. Wanted to hear it sing. And so he performed a massacre and took you with him.

At least it spared Chromedome the pain of having Rewind aboard the compartment with Overlord. Instead, he had you. And ever since then you've been drifting, deeper and deeper into darkness. Swallowed by the void of space, where nothing seems to glow brighter than his optics.

IV. You continued telling him stories. It became the only thing you knew how to do, rather than the only thing that kept you alive. You were now at an abandoned spaceport, where your captor sought temporary refuge. It conveniently hovered above the organic civilization living below on Saturn. He jokes about colonizing them, yet you didn't laugh, quietly staring at the man Overlord just squished under his foot. He must've been a routine worker sent to check the premises. He could have alerted the planet below. And could've called for help.

Bile was rising into the back of your throat.

Maybe he came with a friend. Or maybe Overlord had their way with them already. As you silently wept, you turned the other way — opting to blankly stare past the window. You can see his reflection approaching, the metal beneath you tremble with each step.

" What did I say about your crying?" He crooned, a digit forcefully dragging your chin upwards. You tried to be defiant, to puff out your cheeks and stop your lips from trembling. Yet there was blood on his armor, sprayed across his face. And now there were some on your cheek, wet and sticky, enough to make the tears fall faster.

Then, amid the silence that has crowded the room, between the background hums and noises coming from the machine arose the subtle, clicking noise of a cooling fan. He pushed the tip of his thumb against your bottom lip, the red shade of his optics burning into a deep shade of garnet.

" Look at me when you cry," He commanded, " I want to see it."

V. You told him a story of the Roman titan who devoured his sons one by one — afraid they’d overthrow him. Eat or be eaten, was that what Megatron thought when he installed a killswitch in his head? You hoped this would flatter him. It did. A little too much.

VI. You usually don't talk when he's inside of you. When his spike is stretching you almost too painfully, you never make conversation, it is always the sound of your shallow breathing and his indulgent moaning, mingling together in the air. He didn't force you, no. A part of you had wanted this. Out of sheer fear or stress, you're not sure.

Either way, it's safe to say that Overlord doesn't want you dead anytime soon. Yet he's starting to get bored. Or rather, tired, of wanting. Of fighting this internal disgust in himself for ever thinking of having you like this: underneath him, writhing and struggling to have him all the way to the hilt. He has always been more glutton than prideful. And so here you two were, with his mass displaced yet hands still big enough to cover the expanse of your back — thumbs draped against your nipples. Squeezing, circling. His optics leered at the hickeys and bruises loitering your skin. He has a fascination with how they turn purple and bleed red, sometimes blooming into blue before fading. You tell him as long as he's gentle enough not to break anything, he's more than welcome to have you like this.

As insatiable as he is, that was enough for him.

" If I had known...organics were this pliant. I would have gotten myself a plaything eons ago."

He roughly snapped his hips upwards, dragging you against the berth.

" Sing for me."

Nothing made sense anymore. Not when he has you by the talons like a wild animal, hunched over to devour its prey. Atoms would condense and cluster and sink onto your skin, crowding you with heat from the brutal pace he's setting. You're afraid he'd snap your hip as he hikes up your right leg. Angling you, using you, to his pleasure. And there is pleasure out of this for you too, molten liquid tightening around your abdomen. So you indulge him. He likes seeing you cry, and so you did. Begging, whining — which only causes him to hold you closer to his chassis. The thrum of his spark against you is loud enough to send you into a headache.

It's too much. You wanted to say. But you know it's futile. So as you reached your high — spent and overstimulated from this newfound obsession of his — you could do nothing but brace yourself for the rush of trans fluid spilling down your legs. Your cunt, sore and aching as he finally pulls away.

He says you're funner this way. That's the closest thing you'll get to a sunrise.

91 notes · View notes

atinyjules · 11 months

Note

This is my first time requesting for a Kdrama character. So I want some Lee rang x human reader in the modern time from 1st season. Where reader is a highschool or a uni student. Shes a bit introverted but she can be quite fun too.So how'd they meet and all?

UNDERSTAND - LEE RANG

Ofc! That'd be great! It's like 1 am in the morning right now but I stayed awake hoping someone would request a fic-🤧

Okay so my creative juices are working really good right now! So let's get started!

Thank you for Requesting (´∀｀)♡

Genre: Fluff, romance, strangers to friends to lovers trope, fantasy au, humor.

Pairings: Lee Rang x Human!reader (named)

Warnings: Swearing, violence, mentions of death, blood and Rang just being a misunderstood half demon who just wants to be loved.

Crap.

That's what you felt like as a second year uni student trying to survive the harsh summer heat with two assignments due in two days and continuous tests for the next 4 days. On top of that you were two months behind on paying your rent and one last warning away before you're eventually kicked out of your apartment. But what did you expect?

As an orphan who had no financial or emotional support, you had to support yourself but even after working three jobs a day it still barely covered your tuition fees for a year. Life was hard but you didn't have a choice. These days people looked for employees with excellent social skills and unfortunately being an introvert, speaking and conversing with clients was not your forte.

Which brings us to your second job of the day at a skincare boutique.

Noeul's

"Thank you for you're purchase ma'am, please come again." I said politely as my customer left, smile falling to a frown almost immediately.

"No amount of skincare products will fix that prideful ugly hag's face." I muttered under my breath as I took a deep breath in and looked at my reflection in the mirror.

"Gosh my face looks so tired and exhausted...don't tell me I've been tending to customers like this..." I mumbled as I took a break to freshen myself up.

As I fixed my makeup in the wash room I couldn't help but eavesdrop at my colleagues conversation.

"I heard that your boyfriend proposed!"

"Yes, he did! See!" she exclaimed flaunting her engagement ring.

I let out a sigh internally as their voices started fading away and my thoughts took my attention.

Everyone I know have their lives all figured out and here I am a broke uni student who could get evicted by next week.

I sighed as I felt my emotions skyrocket through the roof and finally crack as I felt my tears pour out after keeping everything bottled up inside me for a month. Fortunately there was no one in the wash room at that moment but I was sure that my colleagues were out gosipping about my melt down. But nonetheless I cried my heart out and by the time I came out my shift had already ended so I went towards the changing room to get out of my uncomfortable uniform.

As I made my way towards the changing room I couldn't help but stop and look at the commotion that was happening in the perfume aisle. I came infront to see a man in a red suit holding another man up in the air with his hands wrapped around his neck as the victim suffocated.

"Aish, people can't mind their own business these days can they?" he said as his eyes connected with mine and he scanned me from top to bottom.

"You work here?" he asked me as I nodded and he threw two perfume bottles towards me. Luckily I caught it and cleared my throat.

"Should I pack it for you, sir?" I asked as he nodded.

"Pack them separately while you're at it yeah?" he asked as I nodded and bowed lightly.

After I was done packing the perfumes he payed for it and took the bags but instead of leaving he leaned at the counter and brought his lips to my ears making me flustered as his warm breath fanned my skin.

"Switch the power off and get under the table when I tell you to...alright? Cause it'd be a shame if you die." he whispered, catching me off guard as I nodded.

He then turned towards the entrance door and locked it, turning around with a menacing smirk as he closed the blinds and put the perfumes in a corner.

"On the count of three." he said and looked at me with a smirk as I grazed my fingers over the switch.

"Three" he said and walked towards the sample section.

"Two....one." he said and I switched off the power and quickly got under the table. And just as I did a string of gunshots and screams began, all I could hear other than those noises were the sounds of furniture breaking and bodies being thrown around. Out of fear I covered my ears and screamed as a body suddenly collided to the table next to the one I was taking shelter in.

"There you are, come on." the man from before said and propped me up on my feet almost immediately and pulled me out of the store with the perfume in his hand.

"W-What are you?" I asked after I saw many bodies splayed across the destroyed boutique.

"Your knight in shining armour." he said and turned to look at me with a smirk as I gasped at the sight of his golden eye.

"W-Wait-" he cut me off my pulling me into an alleyway.

"Keep yourself out of trouble, let's meet again. But until then, try not to die." he said and handed me one of the perfume bottle and a bag.

"They have a really strong sense of smell so I suggest you change your clothes and spritz on a lot of this " he said and smirked at me and walked away.

"What just-wait!" I ran out of the alleyway towards the way he walked to only to see an empty street making me gasp as I quickly ran to the nearest public washroom and did as he said.

"Are these his clothes?" I asked myself as I wore the oversized sweater and shorts that were in the bag. After that I spritz a large amount of the perfume on myself and made my way home.

Two days later I found myself at the park eating a watermelon popsicle, watching as the kids played in the water sprinklers. I smiled and chuckled as I watched them intently wishing I could go back to my younger years at the orphanage I grew up in. Even though I wasn't adopted, my life in the orphanage was quite nice...we had a nice headmistress, good food, loving care takers and a comfortable and safe place to live in. I sighed as I finished up my popsicle, grinning when it read two free popsicles.

"Ah, you're alive." I looked up to see the guy from monday causing me to shriek and flinch.

"Y-You!" I exclaimed as he smirked and sat next to me on the bench.

"Oh, you won." he said looking at my popsicle stick.

As we ate our popsicle, I couldn't help but stare at him.

He was definitely handsome, without a doubt and strong...really strong which brought me to the conclusion that he probably was either not a human or an incredibly strong human, my bet was on the first choice as the grandma who would make our meals when I was little told me that spirits and demons of sorts existed among us.

"If you keep staring at me you're popsicle will melt." he said making me turn a dark shade of red as I quickly chewed my popsicle causing me to have extreme brain freeze.

"Ahhh-" I groaned and clutched my head as he looked at me with amused eyes.

"I've met a lot of humans but you must be the most interesting and amusing one yet." he said as I froze and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Humans? Does that mean..." I trailed as he looked at the bed of roses.

"You like flowers?" he asked me and before I could even respond he already had a bouquet of roses in his hand.

"Take these as a gift for helping me out that day." he said as I looked at the roses.

"I don't take flowers from a stranger." I mumbled as he chuckled.

"I like your personality, the name's Lee Rang but just call me Rang." he said as I looked at him and smiled softly.

"I'm Kang Noeul." I said and accepted the flowers as he stood up.

"Nice name, it suits you." he said as he put on his shades and brought his hand forward.

"Friends?" he asked as I nodded and shook his hand and once again in the blink of an eye he propped me up to my feet.

"A fox always repays kindness, so tell me what you want...anything you wish for I'll get it for you." He said as I thought for a while.

"I don't have friends so...can you be my friend ? Like, a real friend not just for the sake of repaying my kindness but my real friend?" I asked as he chuckled and ruffled my hair.

"I'm not one for befriending humans seriously, but you're an exception." he said and walked in front of me and stopped.

"Are you just gonna stand there? Come on, we have places to be." he said as I furrowed my brows.

"Where?" I asked not realising that the next few months would be filled with me regretting my decisions.

"Who's car was that?!" I exclaimed referring to the car we just trashed as we ran away.

"My elder brother's." he said completely chill as I gasped.

"The one who abandoned you?!" I exclaimed as I picked up my speed.

"Why are you running so fast?" he asked as I continued sprinting.

"I don't want to die in the hands of a pure Gumiho...if you, a half gumiho are that strong I can't imagine how strong he'll be." I said as he held my hand and stopped me.

"Who said I'd let him kill you hm?" he said as he started walking us in a slow pace.

I've been friends with Rang who is not only a Gumiho but also my roommate for about 2 and a half months now...and everyday is filled with us getting in bizarre adventures or causing mischief. Being friends with him somehow unlocked a new version of my self that I wasn't aware I had while still being myself.

Having him in my life not only changed my life but also my feelings for him compared to when we had first met. Sure he was bad, he did bad things and had a long standing grudge on his elder brother who he was currently planning on getting revenge from but nonetheless he made me feel safe, protected and loved...something I haven't felt in years.

"You'd be willing to protect me?" I asked, completely surprised as he scoffed.

"We've been living with each other for than two months and that was enough for me to know that you can't live without me." he said with a smug expression, he isn't completely wrong though.

"Yeah, yeah." I said as he suddenly sat down in a bench and left me standing as he made me stand between his legs and wrapped his arms around my waist and burried his face in my waist.

"You won't...abandon me too will you?" he asked through the fabric of my sweater, catching me off guard.

"Why would you think that?" I asked as he held me tighter.

"My intentions aren't good...I only want revenge and bloodshed." he said as I sighed and ran my fingers through his hair.

"Maybe you're not as good as most people but for me it doesn't matter...I won't make fun of you for that...nor will I judge. But I just want you to know that I won't abandon you and I hope that you won't abandon me too." I said as he chuckled.

"Never, you have my word." he said as I took a deep breath.

"Rang?...can I tell you something?" I asked as he smiled and kissed my forehead.

"I love you too idiot...I can assure you that cause a fox always stays loyal to his mate." he said catching me off guard.

"How did you know?" I asked as he pulled me into a real hug.

"You weren't good at hiding your feelings, I saw and felt the love you have for me enough to entrust you with my heart, I love You Kang Noeul." he said and leaned in making me close my eyes as he pressed a soft yet loving kiss to my lips under the orange skies created by the sun's rays as it set.

"I love you too, Rang-ah."

"Never thought that I'd find

That the one in my life would be so near

And now you're here

I got you, you got me

When it's us, babe, you make me feel complete

You're all I need."

_______________________

I am so sorry if the story doesn't reach your expectations but I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it ♡♡♡

Thank you for reading♡

#lee rang x reader #lee rang ffs #lee rang imagines #lee rang fluff #lee rang fics #lee rang #lee rang oneshots #lee rang masterlist #lee rang totnt #totnt1938 #totnt

145 notes · View notes

sunlightmurdock · 1 year

Text

Safe Zone | 0.8 | Bradley Bradshaw and Jake Seresin x Reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Masterlist

Synopsis: A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Warnings: , death, violence and pretty graphic mentions of all things zombie related, love triangle, smut (18+, minors dni), angst etc. Descriptions of character suicide in the second half of the chapter after Rooster leaves his room

…

On your back on the top bunk, staring at the ceiling tiles, tongue pressed into the inside of your cheek. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn onto your side, pressing your pillow over your ear. All seven of your bunk mates for the upcoming week are men, and five of them snore like they’re some part chainsaw.

Thick heat, no air conditioning, and the bodies of seven men filling the room with a heavy air of sweat. Your hair sticks to your neck, your clothes to your skin, the sheets, kicked off but still too warm against the soles of your feet. You shift, flopping from your right side and onto your back, then onto your left and back again.

A roaring inhaled snore from below you is the final straw.

You sit up halfway, not able fully extend because of the low ceiling. You’re sleeping in your clothes, since there was no way you’d be able to sleep in your underwear with these strangers. Rolling down from the top bunk, finding your feet comes easily when you’re still so far from sleep.

As much as you’ve been irritated by living in such close quarters with Luke and your mother, tonight, you miss them. You miss hearing Luke tossing and turning through the sheet thin wall, hearing your mother’s soft breathing a few feet away.

You’ve still not decided where you’re going when you’re out in the hallway, or even if you’re allowed to be wandering around this building. It doesn’t matter. You’re growing sick of their power anyway. Allowed to go here, allowed to borrow this. It’s bullshit.

Padding along the hallway, being as quiet as you can in the otherwise silent space, you trail your fingertips along the wall.

“Going somewhere?”

Fucking Rooster. You’ve got half a mind to trip him and make a run for it, but as you turn to face him, you realise that that wouldn’t be wise. He’s bleeding. No, he’s not bleeding. But his front is soaked with blood.

Caked into the front of his t-shirt, splattered along the thick length of his neck. His hands are more darkened, muddy red now than they are white.

You wince and take a step away from him. The smell tells you that the blood isn’t his.

“What happened?”

He almost answers you truthfully on instinct. He takes a moment, looking you over, then glances back in the direction of your room. Rooster draws his own conclusion.

“You can’t sleep?” He asks.

“Not in that room.” Not with all those guys. He knows what you mean. The thought occurred to him earlier when he brought you some underwear and noticed them looking at you.

Bradley jerks his head and half turns towards the other end of the hall. “Come on.”

You eye him. He rests his hands on his belt, just in case you get the smart idea of going for his knife. Your choices are limited and increasingly shitty. Either you go with him, or you go back to that room.

You’re curious about this blood situation, and you’re confident that he’ll give you the space that you want. Finally, you nod at him.

His back is less bloodied than his front. Dirty, blood-caked hand prints stain the grey material. Six handprints, almost exactly, if you can ignore the overlap and awkward placements. Either three different dead, or one particularly handsy one.

Rooster unlocks a heavy wood door at the end of the hall and steps back for you to walk in first.

You aren’t sure what you had been expecting of the officer’s rooms, but this seems about right. With how clean they smell, how they carry themselves, bright-eyed and bushy tailed every morning.

It would’ve been a normal staff suite before, but Rooster has turned the singles into a double and made the place its own.

“Make yourself at home. You can sleep if you want, I have to head back out in a sec.” He’s already peeling his shirt over his head and heading for his en-suite before the door has even closed behind you.

You stand by the door and look around. Couch, TV — doesn’t look like it has been used much, but it’s there — books, stereo. Plenty of home comforts. You walk over to his bookshelf and crouch down.

His collection is almost impressive, an ample mix of niche and classic — a lot of fiction, long stories with winding plots. Your favourite.

“You can borrow one, if you want.” Rooster calls to you as the shower turns on in the bathroom. A glance back over your shoulder and you realise that he’s watching you as he leans down to unlace his boots.

“Shouldn’t I have a set-up like this? — Y’know, now that I’m helping you boys with your dirty work.” It’s half playful, just teasing him for the nice things that he has managed to collect.

“Maybe someday if you’re lucky.” Rooster shoots you an arrogant wink and straightens up to unbuckle his belt. It’s easier to assess the damage now that he’s standing up straight and shirtless.

None of the blood was his, he’s fine. But there’s a lot of it. Rooster lets you stare at him, amused by you trying to piece together the clues like a little detective.

“There was a breach, south wall down by the hangars. Dead just — fucking wandered in.” He shakes his head and looks down at the dried blood on his hands. Your brows knit together seriously. He seems less fazed.

You turn to face him and stand up. “How many were there?”

He shrugs his shoulders, pants unzipped and hanging open, exposing the waistband of his boxers. “I dunno, eight? — I need to get this crap off me. Make yourself comfy, I’ll be right back.”

He pushes the bathroom door to, but doesn’t close it completely. You can faintly hear him shuffling out of the rest of his clothes and pulling back the shower curtain.

Eight. He’s so calm about it.

You think back to that first night. The first time that you saw one of them, and realized what was happening. The damage that just one of those things managed to do. Eight of them, just wandering onto base. If they hadn’t been intercepted in time —

Turning, you sit at the foot of Rooster’s bed. At least he told you. Jake wouldn’t have. Jake didn’t even tell you about the quarantine.

It’s a few minutes before he returns. Still wet and wearing just his boxers now, he swings the door open and heads straight for his closest, rubbing at his wet curls with a towel.

“I’m gonna be out until morning, it’s seriously fine if you wanted to crash here.” He tells you casually. Rinsed clean and the massacre he just walked away from already forgotten. Squinting, you crane your neck to watch him.

“Has this happened before?”

He grabs a new pair of pants and steps into them, glancing back at you. “What? — A breach?”

“Yeah.”

“Couple of times in the first few days. Nothing that we can’t handle.”

That’s hard to believe. You remember those first days — you know that they’ll haunt your dreams for the rest of your life. Nothing about the world now is about it just being ‘handled’. “You looked pretty banged up after.”

He pulls a t-shirt over his head. “Yeah, one of them managed to trip me. Coyote handled it. S’all good.”

He turns back to you and fingers through his curls messily, disrupting the pattern and smoothing them back. You eye him. Bradley knows that you don’t trust him, and he gets it — but you trust him more than you trust those strangers back in that room, and that’s enough.

“I promise,” There’s no need for promises. He sees the immediate doubt cross your face from the minute he speaks. “We found the weak spot, we dealt with it, no one got hurt.”

In the days since you let Rooster kiss you by the front gate, there hasn’t been a single moment where you would have let him do it again. He isn’t stupid, he knows this.

But, as he steps between your legs and tips your chin back, you let him. It should feel invasive, him being this close and towering over you, your chin level with his navel. He’s calm and soft as he looks down at you, index finger stroking tenderly along the underside of your chin.

“Get some sleep — I’ll knock before I come back later.” Then, as he leans down and presses his lips to your forehead, you let him again.

You let him leave. You let yourself go through his book collection and pick out a short story anthology, settling into his bed — which is by far the comfiest thing that has graced your skin in months, and reading under the warm glow of the lamp beside his bed. You let yourself fall asleep between his grey sheets.

Rooster’s supposed to be dealing with bodies. The only reprieve he was allowed was because of the contamination risk. The results of Mrs. Hewitt’s autopsy has everyone kind of on edge.

Through the quiet night, the sound is hauntingly clear, echoingly loud. It cuts through the chill of the night and sends a completely separate shiver down your spine. Rain pouring against the window by Rooster’s bed and a soft pillow supporting your neck for the first time in months, you don’t even hear it.

It disappears into the night as quickly as it came, silence chasing after its echo. Rooster does. He knows immediately that someone’s dead. It’s a single shot, purposeful.

The sound was nothing other than a gunshot. Too loud, too intentional. Radio static and instructions to switch to channel six confirm his suspicions. Channel six is for officers only, any lower ensigns caught listening in can be stripped of their privileges.

Rooster is asked for specifically. Jake and Javy are already there — they were the closest to the scene after their shift near the supply hall. It’s Admiral Caine.

His office at the end of the hall, the light still on, the building silent.

Jake stalks along the hallway, brows furrowed in concentration. Javy’s with him, both of their guns raised. It’s too quiet. No sign of a struggle, no one running from the crime scene, no obvious danger. It’s as they grow closer that a small voice in the back of Jake’s head tells him what has happened. He glances back towards the end of the hallway, where Rooster is keeping watch.

Admiral Caine’s door is closed. The glass pane is illuminated by the soft lamp inside. It’s not out of the ordinary. Admiral Caine is always up late working, checking for comms from Europe, speaking to other bases. Waiting for reinforcements.

Jake knows that the admiral is dead before he even touches the door handle. He’s ahead, in front of Javy. He turns the gold handle and creaks the door open slightly.

“Holy shit!” Javy exclaims, stumbling back from the door, hitting the wall to his left. He presses a hand over his mouth. Rooster spins at the end of the hallway, going for his gun, hesitating as he finds that Jake doesn't appear to be scared in the slightest.

Jake stares right ahead. The blood. Brain matter. His superior officer slumped back in the leather office chair, the gun on the floor beside his open palm. He closes the door slowly and turns back towards Rooster at the far end of the hall.

“What’s going on? — Is he okay?”

Leanne. Admiral Caine’s wife of forty years. Standing just around the corner, blocked by Rooster. With no idea that the love of her life just blew his brains out in his office. Rooster’s head turns, he meets her gaze and it all becomes obvious.

Her lips quirk up into a smile, head shaking. Complete disbelief, “No — he… no, this is a mistake. Chester wouldn’t— Chester?”

Rooster catches her, tucking an arm around her middle as she tries to rush past him. The second that her body meets the resistance of his arm, she collapses, no longer struggling. Jake winces at the sound of her wailing.

“Dad?”

Admiral Caine’s daughter, Ally. She’s grown now, her kids are here with her. Rooster isn’t going to be able to keep them all out, and they really shouldn’t see this. Jake leaves the body for a moment, flicking the safety back onto his gun and turning around to get rid of them.

He slips his radio from his belt, “I’m gonna need a couple of guys from C team to escort some people back to the family wing. Now.”

The wailing is going to draw attention and that’s the last thing they need. The people around here are already restless, growing irritated with the authority. If they get word of this, they’ll think that there is room to push back.

“Mrs. Caine, you need to be quiet.” Rooster hushes, grabbing her by her biceps and setting her back on her feet. “I understand that—“

“You have no idea!” She lifts her palm and strikes his cheek. The diamond on her ring is turned around from the struggle, the force of the smack drives it’s ridges into Rooster’s cheek and drags forwards. Blood gushes from the fresh cut onto her hand before she even has a chance to pull away.

“Fuck!” Rooster winces, momentarily letting her go to press a hand to his stinging cheek.

“I want to see him!” She screeches.

Jake has always been good in situations of emergency. It’s probably because the part of his brain that tells him he should be afraid for his life has been switched off for a couple of years now. He doesn’t ever panic. Not before, not now. His face is downright stoic as he reaches them.

The volunteers from C Team are already rushing over. A bunch of kids, really. Barely even Navy when this shit went down. Jake doesn’t have time to care about that now.

“Get them back to their room, then forget that you were here. Keep this to yourselves, if I find out you fuckin’ told anyone, you’ll wish you hadn’t. Someone get me Cyclone. Move!” Jake barks orders, squaring his broad shoulders, narrowing those sharp green eyes at them. They spring into action without daring to ask for more information.

Caine’s family struggle, they beg to see Chester, but they ultimately are led away. The only thought on Jake’s mind is how loud their fucking screaming is and the panic that it’s going to cause. Rooster wipes the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand and sighs, “How bad is it?”

“He blew his fucking head off, shit for brains.” Jake bites back. He rolls his eyes and turns back towards the office. “Get a truck or something. We should get rid of the body before someone sees this mess.”

Rooster’s brows furrow slightly. He doesn’t have time to argue about Jake being Jake — because ultimately, he’s correct. If someone sees this, there’s going to be trouble. He shakes his head and heads for the door.

Getting rid of the man responsible for their success doesn’t seem right.

The nighttime chill feels especially stark tonight, the sea air nipping at Rooster’s bare arms. He can still hear Mrs. Cain faintly wailing. She was probably right to hit him. He doesn’t understand. He probably never will. He’ll never get to spend forty years with the person he loves, share a future with them like they had. Nothing to grieve over.

He can’t even fathom what the world might be like forty years from now. If there’ll be anyone here at all. Cain clearly didn’t think that tomorrow was worth living for, and he hadn’t even lost anyone yet.

Thoughts that heavy are for another time, Rooster doesn’t have time to wallow about this. He grabs a pick up and brings it around to the officer’s building. Jake and Javy load the admiral’s body into the truck bed and cover it with a tarp.

“Cyclone said bury him outside the wall and then head to his office.”

Jake sits on the back of the pick-up for the drive. Whichever way this news breaks, it’s going to be a shitshow. Jake sighs softly and cracks his neck from side to side. The next few days just got a lot harder.

Rooster wipes the sweat from his brow as they stare at the disturbed ground, knowing that you’re going to have questions upon questions for him when he gets back covered in dirt this time. He could probably slip in without waking you, but he said that he would knock.

“I don’t get it,” Javy sighs softly. He shakes his head as he stares at the shallow grave, the sun starting to rise over his shoulder. “Why now? — Why not three months ago.

Jake rolls his eyes. “‘Cause he realised that no one’s fucking coming, Javy. This is it.”

…

Tags: @momc95 @shawnsblue @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @zbeez-outlet @harper1666 @abaker74 @xhangmanlover @bl6o6dy @alliethedaydreamer @xoxabs88xox @cowboybarbie @shanimallina87 @ohtobeleah @top-gun-rooster @blue-aconite @laracrofted @bioodforbiood

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #jake seresin #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw imagine #top gun smut #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin au #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #jake seresin imagine

216 notes · View notes