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talesofesther · 5 months

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what once was mine | ch 6

Loki x Reader

Series Summary: When watching what once was supposed to be the rest of his life, in an empty room in the TVA, Loki sees someone he can't recognize; a girl who's all tenderness and loose smiles, and most importantly, she was smiling at him.

A/N: This chapter might just be my favorite.

Masterlist | Read ch 5 here

It's been a few days since Loki had convinced you to share that cup of tea with him, and things have been… pleasant. You were still guarded and sometimes on the defensive when around Loki, but you were not actively avoiding him anymore, he may even go as far as saying you might be enjoying his company at times.

There were also moments where those same defenses dulled down, moments where Loki would have glimpses of that same girl he had seen on TVA's time teather when he'd first arrived. And the more he spent time with you, the more he understood why he would've fallen for you in his future. And why he was falling for you now.

"Please, Mobius," you made a show of clasping your hands together right under your chin, "I just need a moment to breathe."

Loki and Mobius were sitting at the latter's desk, mindlessly chatting, and you had popped out of nowhere a few minutes ago, making yourself comfortable on top of his desk.

"There's air all around you, breathe away," Mobius gestured widely.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile lingered on your features. Loki subconsciously found himself mimicking it as he looked at you.

"You know what I mean," you said quieter, avoiding his eyes and swinging your feet back and forth softly. You briefly looked at Loki, gaze roaming over the slope of his nose and the lines of his jaw, before focusing back on Mobius; "Please?" You asked more genuinely.

Mobius sighed loudly, clearly already giving in to your pleading. He cursed under his breath and fished out his tempad from his pocket, giving it to you. "If you get caught, I'm pretending I don't know you and that you stole it from me."

The grin that painted your features was big and bright, "You know I'm not getting caught," you gave him a wink, and then added softly; "Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah," Mobius waved you off, but he was smiling too.

Loki watched the exchange quietly until you left and were out of earshot. He turned to Mobius, one elbow resting on the desk. "You never gave me the tempad when I asked."

Mobius side-eyed him, "That's because she's responsible, and you're not."

A deep frown appeared on Loki's face, he straightened his posture. "That's absurd, I'm way more responsible than she is." He spoke matter of factly, gesturing to the general direction you had scurried off to, "Have you seen her desk? I don't know how she even works in the middle of that mess."

Mobius chuckled, he was enjoying this. "I stand by my point."

─── ·❆· ───

Your clothes were clinging to your body, your hair stuck to your forehead, there were droplets on your eyelashes, and pools of water appeared on the floor from your dripping clothes with each step you took.

The TVA was mostly dark and empty, with only a few dim lights here and there, as it was already late. You smiled and chuckled to yourself as you walked past the library and headed to the elevator, feeling alive.

The doors of the elevator slowly slid open only to reveal Loki. He had a small pack of Skittles in one hand that you were certain you had seen on Mobius' desk earlier. His other hand stopped midair before it reached his mouth as soon as he laid eyes on you.

For the first time, your smile grew just a tad wider upon seeing him.

Loki had a confused crease on his eyebrows, his lips hung open for a second more as his gaze roamed up and down your body before settling on your face. "You're soaked." He stated, as if you didn't know.

"Yes," You beamed.

Loki's mouth opened and closed a few times. "Why?"

You took a single step closer to him, tilting your head to the side softly, watching as he visibly gulped at your closeness. "Don't you miss it?" You asked, voice quiet. "The rain, the wind, the sunlight, the smell of grass and trees?"

His bright eyes softened then, he glanced away and his expression turned melancholic for a moment, as if your question had reminded him of the feeling; "Yes, I suppose I do."

You pursed your lips, holding onto Mobius' tempad in your jacket pocket. A part of you had alarms blaring inside your head, the other, was begging you to not think and just do it. The weight of Loki's presence was familiar and foreign all the same. Dangerous territory, as you tiptoed the blurred lines of what he had started to mean to you, and the memories from before that still haunted your nightmares. Despite what you had so adamantly told yourself as soon as you laid eyes on Loki… you'd gone soft. Having him around seemed to ease the parts of your heart that still ached, even when you didn't want it to, even when you were still scared and confused.

Only today, you told yourself. Only today would be okay. Because the ocean that was his bright eyes held that same sadness that had drawn you to him for the first time all those years ago, after all. Denying it was becoming a fool's game.

You took the tempad from your pocket and hit a few buttons until a smoked-glass doorway popped open behind you. Glancing up at Loki, you said; "Come on," and turned around, walking into the doorway.

Loki hesitated for only a beat before discarding the pack of Skittles and following after you.

The first thing he felt was the heavy raindrops hitting his cheeks and soaking his clothes. Loki blinked a few times, narrowing his eyes so he could see past the storm. It was a deserted street, the worn roadway stretched far beyond what he could see, surrounded by green fields with no houses in sight; the sky was mostly cloudy, but on a far corner a few faint stripes of a setting sun could be spotted; the rain falling down was heavy and constant, pattering loudly against the asphalt and the tall grass beside it.

You stood a few feet ahead of him, with your head tilted up to the sky and your eyes closed. The rain cascaded down your skin, kissing your lips and trailing a path down your neck that Loki couldn't help but follow. It soaked your clothes and hair, just as it did his. And yet you looked absolutely ethereal.

Loki found himself glued to the ground as he simply took in the sight before him. The rain glistened on your skin as it was shaped by the rogue bouts of sunlight, a small blissed-out smile lingered on your lips as you took in the feeling of being under the earth's elements. Straight out of a dream.

Finally turning your attention to him, you stretched your arms to the side, speaking louder so he could hear you over the rain; "doesn't it make you feel alive?"

"That's certainly one way of putting it," Loki told you, taking half a step closer to you as he put his wet hair behind his ears.

You rolled your eyes but your smile remained, "Come on, Loki. The rain washes your soul, it's freeing, it's-" You looked up at the sky again, breathing in deeply, "It shows you can still feel."

Words failed Loki, he tried not to dwell too much on the fact that this was the first time you had called him by his name.

When he didn't answer, you looked at him for a beat, hesitating and worrying your lower lip between your teeth before you extended both hands towards him.

The rain somehow grew heavier, paired with a cold wind that made your hair flow. Loki switched his gaze between your eyes and your outstretched hands. Confused, asking for permission. When you simply wiggled your fingers, he took one of your hands, delicately, almost as if afraid to touch you.

You grasped him tightly with the reassurance he needed and reached for his other hand. You pulled him forward as you took a step backward to get him moving, and then started circling him, making him copy your movements until you fell into a messy dance. A genuine laugh escaped you, "Don't you feel it?"

Loki's smile followed yours, and if his eyes were suddenly pooling with happy tears, the rain would hide it. "I'm starting to," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving yours.

The grin on your lips remained as you closed your eyes and craned your neck up again, you leaned back and allowed Loki's hands to support half of your weight, with the safety that he'd hold you up.

And if he had any say in it, he'd never let go either.

After a few minutes under the rain, you told Loki you had another place you liked to escape to sometimes. Another smoked-glass doorway opened then, and it led to a clear night sky; under it was a small forest with a clearing up ahead, and a lonely bench in the middle of the low grass that had been faintly covered with bits of snow. A thousand stars danced in this sky, with no other light or cloud in sight to outshine their beauty. The lonely bench overlooked a view from up a mountain, making everything seem small and distant. Just like the roadway before, this place was also deserted.

You walked ahead, the only sound on the eery night being your boots crushing the grass and snow underneath. Loki followed, and with a flick of his wrist, his magic had the two of you dry and warm again.

You turned to him with a small, knowing smile and took a seat on the bench, "Thanks."

He simply smiled back, making himself comfortable beside you and looking up at the stars.

This place had always been your favorite, the first one you found after coming to the TVA, and the one you inevitably always came back to.

Feeling the weight of Loki's presence beside you, you weren't sure what you were doing. Only a few weeks ago you said you wanted nothing to do with him, yet here you are. You closed your eyes, pushing the thoughts away for now.

"I usually come here for the stars," you whispered into the night, your breath coming in white puffs of air.

Loki hummed, his gaze roaming over the constellations in the sky, "It is beautiful, but Midgard's skies-"

"Don't compare to Asgard's skies," you finished for him and shot a glance his way before focusing back on the sky, "yeah, I've been told."

A small chuckle escaped Loki, he nodded his head softly and looked down at his hands, his thumb scratching the skin of his other palm.

"One of the few good things about the TVA is this," you hugged your jacket closer to your body, "being able to be anywhere, anytime."

"Are you not worried about disrupting their so-called sacred timeline?" Loki asked.

You smirked, watching him from the side of your eye. "With time, you learn a few tricks on how to not create a branch right away. Such as avoiding people, not disrupting the place," you shrugged, "it gives you a few minutes at least."

Loki kept silent as he took in the new information, he looked from the starry sky to the low grass around his shoes. It would all stay the same when he left.

"It's almost as if we don't exist," you told him quietly.

Suddenly, a different flash of color caught your eyes, and your heartbeat sped up. You held onto your breath, feeling strangely giddy. "There it is," you pointed at the sky.

Loki looked at where you were pointing and his lips parted in silent wonder. It started on one side and soon flowed all around the stars above your heads; flashes of bright green, blue, and pink. Lights dancing in the sky.

A shaky sigh escaped you, "This is the other reason why I like to come here," you kept your voice low, as if the moment was a well-kept secret. The colors of the aurora were reflecting against your eyes. "It's so… enchanting."

Loki kept silent for a few beats, simply watching the show amidst the starry night. He then turned to you, taking in the way those same dancing colors shaped your profile. "It is," he breathed.

You didn't have to look at him to know he was looking at you. You could feel it. It wrapped your heart in a tight grip and blurred the sight of the colorful sky. You pursed your lips, lowering your head and curling in on yourself. "Please don't do that," your words broke in the middle.

Loki gulped the sudden lump in his throat, he felt as if he'd just ruined the moment yet he didn't know how. "I-"

"Don't look at me…" your voice got stuck. You glanced up at the sky, breathing in sharply to chase away the rogue tears. "Like that." It was nothing but a breath past your lips, you softly raised your eyebrows to accentuate the last word.

Don't look at me the way you used to when you were mine.

In the same heartbeat, Loki's gaze shifted to his shoes. An apology already lingered on his lips, but before he could say it, you spoke;

"We should go." You got up, reaching for the tempad in your pocket, "or we'll create a branch soon and this place will be crawling with minutemen." You didn't wait for his answer before walking a few steps away, needing a bit of space.

You heard as Loki followed you, but he kept his distance as he waited for you to open the doorway. You didn't like that distance.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 7 here

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Loki’s taglist: @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @justaproudslytherpuff @justanotherkpopstanlol @chronicallybubbly @chaoticqueen33 @7minutes-tomidnight @uncle-eggy @oliviaewl @dd122004dd @tani725 @innebulae @mochminnie @mayemperess @alyeskathewave @buginktsworld @cremebruleequeen @wyvernthekriger @cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson @avengersfan25 @mischief2sarawr @yokolesbianism @arunabrak @athenasproverbs @h-l-vlovesvintage

@princess-ofthe-pages @daisy-the-quake @talesofadragon @rainbowsocks @alexandra-001 @mary-jinx @stevenknightmarc @falconxsoldier @ladymercury8 @shirukitsune @ladymischief11 @starkzdaughter @navs-bhat @creat0r-cat @cinnamonbambii @anundyingfidelity @creationcitystreet-em @or-was-it-just-a-dream @agustdpeach @agent-tempest @spidermantaylorsversion @127djarin @imthedoctorlove @lokidokieokie @cookieeecutter @anuncalledbridge

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki imagine #loki #marvel #loki series #loki x you #marvel x reader #loki x female reader #imagine #fanfic #angst #fluff #what once was mine #loki fanfic #my story #loki laufeyson x reader

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splaede · 10 months

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AFTER DARK. Armin Arlert (CH. 5)

☰ pairings: Armin x Reader, Slight Eren x Reader

┌─ ✮⭒｡ story summary: Armin was tired of being seen as an innocent, goody-two-shoes, little flower boy. Instead, he wanted to be seen in a more romantic and…sexual light. You just couldn’t turn down a sweet boy like him, so you agreed to hone his charms and teach him special…skills.

And he turned out to be much more powerful (and hotter) than you'd ever expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ story #tags: fluff, angst, smut, friends to lovers, friends w benefits, drama, jealousy, hurt/comfort, manipulative armin, virgin armin, loss of virginity, childhood friends, lots of tension, nerd armin, and then he glows up, love triangles, unrequited love, gaslighting, lots of buildup

☰ CHAPTER FIVE. armin's move

┌─ ✮⭒｡ chapter summary: The night at Connie's house doesn't go the way you expected.

└─ ✩⭒｡ chapter warnings: a little suggestive(?), petting

☰ table of contents | previous chapter | next chapter

It was Saturday again.

Everything between you, Armin, and Eren seemed to fall back to normal, just as they were before. And it was better that way, considering you’d have to see them soon.

Eren's phone call wasn't anything to stress over, but Armin's request on the other hand...

You couldn't just gloss over that so quickly.

But if you were to bring it up, what would that mean next?

Dim, closed-off images of last night resurfaced in your head—images of him, disheveled, strewn with sleepiness, tilting in so close to you as his warm breath fanned over your lips, all in a hazy order of events that you couldn’t force yourself to rearrange.

A slow, unconscious sigh escaped you. You needed to stop thinking about it.

Because in reality, you liked it.

You liked how tempting he looked in the dark—eyes half-lidded and attractive, shadows contouring his face—and how tantalizing the situation was, how intimate he made it.

The recent lack of love in your life must be taking a toll on you because you didn't mind doing…whatever that was with your long-time best friend.

All while you had a crush on your other best friend.

You were fucked.

"There's sushi in the fridge if you want some," Connie blurted, switching on the TV and collapsing onto his couch, where he watched you from your spot by the kitchen counters. "It's the good kind."

You had been grabbing a drink before Armin had invaded your mind, and you were glad that someone could finally push you out of your thoughts.

"Oh, do you want me to bring it out?" you asked, referring to the coffee table laid with plates of snack food.

"No, that's the good sushi. I only wanted to ask you."

From behind you, the shrill beep of the microwave resounded throughout the kitchen, followed by Jean's gruff, sardonic voice. "Don't fall for it. He's just trying to butter you up."

"Am not!" Connie rolled his eyes. "I'm sure doing it better than you ever can," he mumbled lowly.

You sent him a glare.

"You can keep your fancy sushi, Connie,” you playfully scoffed, moving towards his sprawled-out form on the couch and sinking into the cushion beside him.

Only a few of your friends were already here at Connie and Jean’s shared apartment for the planned hangout, and you were the third to arrive.

It was late evening, just an hour after sundown, and the slow warmth from the night outside bled into the living room's atmosphere. Beside you, Connie rambled about some show he watched as he carelessly scrolled through Netflix titles, the sound of previews playing loudly from the speakers. Across from you, Sasha sat curled into her seat while Jean griped about the food he microwaved for her from inside the kitchen, but he only went ignored as she cackled at something on her phone.

If you listened closely enough, you could hear Ymir sneeze from inside the bathroom.

You loved nights like these. It truly felt like summer, just you and your little group of friends. The picture was candid and carefree, a nostalgic reminiscence of your teen self instead of the adulthood you were approaching.

You hoped everyone would arrive soon because you were looking forward to this night for some odd, cheesy, unexplained reason.

At the thought of seeing Armin, your stomach churned. But like the invasive, overpowering person that Eren was, thoughts of him suddenly intruded your mind instead, and the feeling in the pit of your stomach only intensified. When you weren’t thinking of Armin, you were thinking of Eren.

Your phone lit up.

Two texts from Eren.

Of course. Speak of the devil—for the nth time again. He somehow managed to show up at both the right and wrong times. Every time the situation called for it, he always appeared.

Tapping on the notification, you were greeted with a video followed by a text message that read, “on our way.”

Our?

The video was his front view from the passenger seat of a car, the road and blocks of storefronts—a location you very distinctly recognize—moving past the window as the car drove forward. But what stood out to you was the little stuffed animal keychain that hung from the rearview mirror along with other cute decorations: a silly-looking My Little Pony plushie.

Was this Mikasa’s car?

A strange feeling grew in your stomach, twisting and churning until you felt your heart finally sink. You shouldn’t have been disappointed since they were friends and all, but you couldn’t help the little pang in your heart. If anything, this was expected of them, and you just happened to notice it more due to your recent confession.

That damn My Little Pony plushie.

You kept staring at your screen, long enough for Connie to peek over your shoulder.

"Damn, I didn't know you were a brony."

You quickly retracted your phone, whipping your head around. “Quit stalking! I'm not a brony. And neither is Mikasa."

"That’s Mikasa? Is she on her way then?” He punched your arm. “Finally!"

You shot him a perplexed look, confused at his odd show of excitement. "Don’t get too excited, Mr. Pissed-His-Pants,” you retorted sarcastically.

Connie’s face suddenly contorted to something mortified and alarmed, mouth agape with creased lines on his forehead. "You saw the picture? Listen, it’s not what it looks like! Sasha spilled her drink on me and thought it’d be funny to say that I pissed myself, I swear. Dude, Sasha needs to stop spreading that picture around. She lied to me, too. She said she didn’t send it to anybody, but as soon as Eren sent me that picture, I—”

Light knocks at the front door suddenly cut Connie’s rambling off.

Connie shot you a knowing glare, and his expression told you everything you needed to know.

“Fine, I’ll get it,” you huffed, standing up.

The doorknob wriggled under your fingers as you twisted it, and the door flew open with more force than you’d intended.

Armin.

You looked at him wide-eyed, more shocked that it was him in the flesh and not because you hadn’t meant to open the door so harshly.

He matched your surprise, staring at you with doe-eyed confusion, hands in his pockets, but it quickly morphed into a suave smile. You noticed he ditched his glasses today. Probably swapped out for contacts.

"Hey."

Armin looked you up and down, fleetingly, in the usual way that he looked anybody up and down.

But you swore it was different this time. A hint of something teasing laced in his keen pupils, a slight twitch at the corner of his lips.

Moving back from the open door, you cleared your throat. “Hey, Armin.”

He stepped in, just once, before running a hand through his hair. A nervous tick. He’d been doing that a lot lately.

“Armin?!” Connie blurted, dumbstruck. He scrambled up onto his feet and bounded over to where Armin stood, who only gave him a small smile. “New haircut? You’re sexy, man.”

“Thank you.” Armin laughed shyly, looking Connie up and down, but not in the way he looked you up and down.

“Woah, Armin!” Sasha, no longer glued to her phone, stood up from her seat. Next thing you know, she was grabbing onto Armin’s shoulders and squinting at his side profile.

“Fade so good she had to inspect it.” Connie snorted and slapped Armin’s back, hard, and when you were expecting him to jolt forward, he stood, steady, a glint of unfamiliar irritation in his blue eyes. Oh. You sometimes forgot how strong he was.

Sasha finally released her grip on Armin’s shoulders when Jean stalked out of the kitchen, saying, “You look good, bro.”

Connie sniffed. “I smell bromance.”

Jean was quick to retort something bitter, and then it was that same routine of insults and banter between the two. But your attention shifted to Armin, who watched your friends joke around with an amused crinkle in his eyes.

Sensing your gaze, he turned to look right at you, and before you could even speak, images of last night replaced his figure in front of you: that dark, hot, expression of his that you tried to bury. You attempted to speak again, but it was futile because you’d already forgotten what you were about to say.

“You okay?” He nudged you on the arm with the back of his fingers, concerned. “What are you thinking about?”

At that, your eyes widened. You couldn’t look at him anymore or you’d start thinking about him again. Damn him for saying that.

His brow lifted slightly. “Nothing bad…right?” he asked, cautious. His words sounded reassuring, but the sudden smile that crept onto his face said otherwise. It was almost as if he was teasing you.

And you should’ve been less obvious, but you quickly looked to the side in shame. It was weird seeing this side of him.

Did he know? As perceptive as he was, he still couldn’t possibly know.

Unsure of what to say, you rasped out, “No, nothing bad.”

A lapse of silence that bordered on awkward followed suit, but Armin was quick to change the subject. “Eren and Mikasa are on their way.”

“Oh. I know.” You paused. “Did he send you a video, too?”

He nodded. “Yeah, why?”

You peeked at your surroundings to see if your friends were near you, and to your relief, Jean, Sasha, and Connie were all huddled near the tiny dining area, far enough and loud enough for them to not hear.

Turning back to him, you shrugged. “Because I’m such a hypocrite. I’m over here worried about them being together and alone all the time, but you know, we’re doing that. They probably don’t like each other like I’m thinking.”

He nodded slowly, skeptically, then smiled softly. “Yeah, yeah. No, you’re right. It’s most likely nothing. You’re just…paranoid. Your brain is just making things up. That’s all.”

“You don’t sound too sure.” You chuckled, turning around and throwing yourself back onto the couch. He followed you and sat down, legs slightly spread with a clasped palm resting in between.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.” Armin paused, not quite meeting your eyes. He looked away. “They don’t like each other.”

You doubted the confidence in his statement.

“That was the worst shit of my life,” came a voice in the hallway. Ymir walked out, wafting a hand over her nose. “Don’t go in there.”

Jean made a noise of disgust. “Gross. That’s my bathroom.”

Ymir stepped a foot forward before fully stopping, raising a halfway, accusing finger as she stared dead straight at Armin. “That’s new.” She spared a knowing glance to you, to which you furrowed your brows. “Trying to look good for someone?”

You put two and two together, immediately averting your gaze when you realized what she meant.

“What, no!” Armin shook his head. “I just—I just wanted to.”

She didn’t look too convinced, but before anyone could say anything, there was a knock on the door yet again. You nudged Armin.

“I’ll get it,” he announced.

It was Eren and Mikasa.

Unconsciously, your face lit up at the sight of Eren. He looked good, in the usual collectedness of his demeanor that contrasted the messiness of his tied-up hair.

His mouth opened, but for a second, the words died in his throat as he finally took in the sight of the blonde standing right in front of him.

“You cut your hair?! Since when?”

Mikasa peeked out from over Eren’s shoulder, brows lifting in surprise.

Armin sheepishly smiled. “Just recently.” He opened the door wider as he stepped back.

“And you didn’t tell us?” Eren raised a brow, smiling nonetheless.

“Surprise.” Armin’s smile multiplied tenfold, and he was all teeth now, grinning like he was proud of himself.

“I think it really suits you,” Mikasa added.

“Yeah, I agree.”

Everyone greeted the two, and there was a new commotion in the apartment space, bustling and familiar, a distinct aura that only seemed to appear when Eren walked into a room. Great, another dot to the list of things you liked about him.

Armin finally sat back down next to you, snug against your side.

Eren found a way to your other side, and when Mikasa sat down next to him, he scooted toward you, squishing your limbs together as he attempted to make room.

There was a moment of silent shuffling that everyone followed as Armin scooted further down to make space for all four of you.

You were now sandwiched—practically squeezed—between the two most conflicting boys in your life right now. On your right was the guy you liked, and on your left was your relationship mentee and potential—

Would you ever help me physically?

—friends with benefits.

It was even worse to actually think about it. You didn’t need to say it out loud for it to sound embarrassing. It wasn’t that having a friends-with-benefits relationship was embarrassing, but that it was with Armin Arlert. And it hadn’t even started yet.

You squeezed your thighs together.

“You guys wanna play a game?” Connie threw two controllers in your direction before picking one up for himself. He sat down on the adjacent couch.

Eren laughed out of his nose, retorting, “Well, you already gave us the controllers, so we don’t have a choice, do we?”

You watched again as Connie scrolled through a list of game titles.

But you were all too aware of the bodies pressed against you, shoulders caging you in, almost as if you were under them.

Feeling uncomfortable, you stood up. What you didn’t know was that at the other end of the couch, Mikasa shifted in her seat, which prompted Eren to scoot your way. And in the process of you standing up, Eren’s body knocked right into yours, catching you off balance. And then there was something firm beneath your thighs when you fell, nothing like the softness of the couch cushion.

Hands quickly came to brace your hips.

You were basically sitting on half of Armin’s lap, straddling his thigh as he caught you. Your hand instinctively shot out to support you, landing on his other leg.

“Oh,” you said before you even realized it. And the hands on your hips left as quickly as they came.

“Oh,” he repeats. “Sorry. Careful.”

You fully stood up now, sparing a glance at Eren like you did something wrong, but before your eyes could meet his, he abruptly turned away, like he was caught red-handed.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, embarrassed, but with your back to Armin and the delay in your response and the whole falling-into-his-lap thing, you wondered if you made it more awkward.

Because it definitely was awkward. Especially with whatever there was between you two.

You stalked into the kitchen and hoped that you’d find something to do.

“Y/N, can you get the good sushi?” Connie waved you off, not even offering you a single glance. Judging by the fact that he’d been oddly quiet, he probably hadn’t seen what happened.

You rolled your eyes but were thankful that you now had a real excuse to be in the kitchen.

There was a sudden wave of new voices from behind the front door, and a series of knocks followed right after.

Armin stood up again to open the door.

And as soon as he did, four people that you hadn’t been expecting walked through. Reiner, Bertholdt, Historia, and Annie. This was a perfect opportunity for Armin.

“Oh, hi guys,” Armin greeted, pausing, eyes panning over the blonde girl. “Hi, Annie.”

You chimed in a quick greeting, too, watching as Bertholdt and Annie took the seats where you and Armin once sat with Reiner next to Connie on the loveseat.

That left Armin without a spot, standing aimlessly, as he spared you a glance through the kitchen’s pass-through window.

The moment you made eye contact, though, he came closer. For a moment—and only a moment, your breath constricted in your throat and you stilled in anticipation for a reason you couldn’t even explain. Maybe because then you would be alone with him. Before you could process it, Armin was standing right next to you.

His lips parted to speak but closed the moment you tugged on his sleeve.

“Hey.” You pulled him deeper into the kitchen, leaning in. “This is your chance. Annie’s here. Talk to her, get closer to her…make a move.”

He visibly gulped at your words, shooting a wary glance to the side.

“But everyone’s watching.”

“That’s why you have to be subtle,” you suggested, to which Armin only raised a confused brow. “Sit next to her—like, really close. Maybe if we’re watching something, you could like, whisper in her ear. Or maybe teach her how to play a video game. Annie’s not with our group that much, so just make her feel welcome.”

“Okay. I’ll try,” he breathed, quiet, and you finally realized how close he stood to you and how close you had pulled him in.

Your mind wandered to him again—him asking you such an outrageous, yet tempting, question, almost kissing you, and being so intimate with you.

Now that you’d seen him in a different light, it was hard to suppress thoughts like these.

In a different light.

Wasn’t that his goal the whole time? To be seen more like this? You wondered if he even needed your help because, right now, it seemed like he had already achieved his goal.

Suddenly, he tapped your waist.

“You’re spacing out again.”

But you didn’t reply. No, instead—it was almost instinctive the way you did it—your gaze fell to his lips, bouncing right back to his eyes when you realized what you did.

His brows rose by just a fraction, and his gaze shot to your lips, almost like it was instinct. You watched his throat bob, just as breathless as you were, before his eyes flitted back at you again. There was longing in the way he stared at you, so evident and bright in his blue irises.

“Do you…”

He trailed off, an unsure look painted on his face.

This was really bad timing, but you were just so swept away. You don’t entirely know what or why, but it was along the lines of wanting to just kiss him—be close to him—or the thrill of just doing it behind everyone’s back.

“I know you want it,” he breathed, regaining his composure.

It was sinful. His voice dropped an octave, reduced to a raw whisper. You didn’t think he meant for it to sound this provocative and straightforward—or did he? You didn’t expect this, especially coming from him of all people.

It. He knew you wanted it. It wasn’t “I know you want to” but “I know you want it.” And with the way he spoke to you, it could mean a lot of things.

You swallowed the lump that was building in the back of your throat, taking a sidelong glance at the direction your friends were in.

The living room and kitchen were obscured by a wall, with half of it being a kitchen pass-through window. You were standing just to the side of the window, so if anyone looked in, they wouldn’t be able to see you two.

Right out of eyeshot and—hopefully—earshot.

You felt hands slide onto your waist, slow, delicate, and reluctant. Almost inexperienced, if you could put it that way.

And then you heard footsteps approaching.

Quickly pushing him away, you whirled around, facing the fridge directly behind you, and opened the doors in an attempt to look busy. The plate of sushi. Right. What you came for in the first place.

“You’re so obvious, Armin.”

You stilled for a moment, sushi plate halfway in your hands, because you recognized this voice all too well, even when it was hushed, and after a second too long, you finally processed the words. Wary, unblinking, you turned around, letting the fridge shut on its own.

Eren stopped to bend down and grab a water bottle, eyes locked on you the entire time.

“What?” Armin gasped.

“I know you like her.” Eren shrugged.

You looked at Armin expectantly, caught off guard by Eren, but you couldn’t see his face from this angle.

“Do you mean Annie?” you asked.

Eren was aware of Armin’s crush; that was common knowledge. She was the only person he could possibly be referring to. Unless he was talking about…

You really wanted to know what expression Armin was making, and your confusion only doubled when Eren’s gaze drifted to your form.

Unless he was talking about you?

“Nothing. You know what.” Eren’s eyes were still on you when he popped open the cap and took a gulp of his water.

“You could at least keep it down a little…” Armin cautioned, voice low in a whisper.

A haughty, coy smirk crept up his lips, not directed toward you, but to Armin. “You should at least make a move tonight.”

He shrugged again and stepped out of the kitchen.

“Um, okay. I will,” Armin answered, so faint it was as if it were to himself.

Eren didn’t spare a glance back.

You were standing there still clutching onto the cold plate of sushi, focused on the back of his head. “That was weird. Is he in on this?” Your voice dropped to the quietest whisper you could muster. “Does he know about our…”

“No, no,” Armin answered quickly, shaking his head as he turned to you fully. “It’s only between you and me.”

You muttered an “okay” before you moved past him and into the living room, but as you walked back, you let your head fall in the gutter, and you felt it again now—your heart sinking, stomach churning. The plate was cold under your fingertips, a sensation that brought you back to reality about what just happened. What could’ve happened.

Your lips pressed together on their own—in some shameful, self-aware way. Because your lips were just a second from being on his.

The living room filled your ears with blurts of cries and cheers of what you assume must be a really competitive game of Mario Kart. You placed the sushi plate onto the table, and someone screamed at you to not block the screen, but Connie was nowhere to be seen.

The seating had changed now: some of your friends had switched around, and the rest were missing.

But that wasn’t important. The only important thing was that someone left the spot next to Eren empty and the spot next to Annie, who moved to the other couch, empty.

A perfect setup for you and Armin.

Armin, who you had been getting a little too close to. Who you couldn’t help but want. You wanted him as much as you wanted to help him.

You slid in next to Eren, so naturally and effortlessly that when your thighs and arms met, he wouldn’t have suspected a thing. Because either way, this was normal; you were friends, and that should’ve been enough of a reason for you to be close to him.

In full swing, Armin followed right after, sitting next to Annie—not touching, but a safe distance between them. And for once, as you put the weird tension aside, you were content for the night.

As per tradition, Connie put on a movie, all lights turned off. This was the last movie of the night, a “really funny one” as quoted by Connie himself.

Every time you laughed, you immediately self-sabotaged and glanced at the loveseat, where Armin at Annie sat, brushing shoulders, to see if they were laughing, too. And every time, you heard it louder than your own. You were torn between supporting his advancements and indulging this sense of… selfishness.

You felt the same way about Armin as you do with Eren—felt this strange possessiveness. He was your best friend. And seeing him with someone else made you feel a word you didn’t want to think aloud.

Even though it was the whole point of your agreement, Armin was coming to you just to end up with another girl in the end.

They were close now, smushed together because Sasha wedged herself in the other end of the couch, but she wasn’t part of their world. Armin did exactly what you told him, talking lowly in her ear about God knows what.

You were spiraling. You thought of the almost-kiss from last night, the lap incident, the almost-kiss from earlier, and Eren’s odd comment, and you wondered if Armin was affected, too, just as delirious as you were right now.

Eren was lightly snuggled up right beside you and you to him. You had better things to worry about, like enjoying Eren’s closeness. Granted, Mikasa sat on his other side, but you needed to remember she was your best friend, too.

You turned to talk to Eren, but you were immediately met with green eyes, familiar and watchful. His eyes widened ever-so-minutely, frozen for a second, and flitted to a spot behind you. You didn’t even have to look to know who he was looking at.

Shit, did he catch you staring?

He leaned into your ear. “What are you doing for the rest of the night?” His voice was a prickle against the skin of your earlobe, all low and husky and warm.

“Nothing,” you whispered. “Why?”

“Just asking. We”—he gestured to himself, you, Mikasa, and Armin—“could go somewhere or do something after.”

“It’s midnight.”

“So?”

“I have work in the morning.”

On that cue, the movie ended, music blaring, as the end credits rolled in. Connie had been torturing everyone with movies back-to-back. The kitchen and living room were a scattered, trashy mess of cans and bottles, stacked with empty pizza boxes.

You stood up and stretched, and several of your friends followed.

Jean had already retreated to his room for the night, and some others had left earlier; you were just one of the stragglers that stayed behind.

The lights switched on with a flick, and chatter resumed. Judging from the tired sag on everyone’s faces, you knew this was the end of the night.

Armin was the first to go. “I’m going to head home now. Bye, guys!”

As soon as he finished that sentence, his gaze darted to you for a brief moment. And a little awkward.

You didn’t like this tension between the two of you. But at the same time, you didn’t hate it either.

Your friends said goodbye to him like it was the most casual thing ever, and then he was gone. Seeing him leave early, you felt…sad. Even though he was the one missing out, you felt like you were missing out on him. The movie just ended, but you planned to talk a little more before you left.

Eren came up from behind you. “So, you don’t want to come to my house? I’m gonna text Armin if he wants to, too.”

You startled before peering at him. As much as you wanted to, and as much of a tempting invitation that was to hear from Eren, you needed rest.

“For what?”

“Late night swim in my pool. Like we all used to.”

“But I have work,” you sighed. “How about tomorrow?”

He sighed, too.

“Fine.”

You helped throw away the main horde of trash, because knowing Connie and Jean, they probably wouldn’t clean it up until the next morning. Or the next.

The moment you said your goodbyes and closed the door, you were ready to unwind from all of the little things that happened.

But before you even got to your car, you spotted something.

Was that Armin’s car?

From what you saw from his window, Armin only sat there, still and contemplative, reclined against his seat, for a reason you didn’t know except that it was just like him to do so. You wondered why he hadn’t driven off yet.

He must’ve caught your reflection in the side mirror because his shoulders jolted in surprise, and he turned to you with an expression that melted from listlessness to outright relief. The window rolled down, and you greeted him with a smile that he reciprocated a little too quickly.

“Hey. You left so fast. I still wanted to talk to you,” you said. The scent of his cologne wafted to you in an almost comforting yet overwhelming way, but you ducked down to lean further into it.

He sat up straight, and his head came closer to yours as a result. “Really?” It was boyish—the way he said it, soft and almost sad. “Then…what are you doing for the rest of the night?”

“Nothing,” you replied. “Going home.”

“Can I come over?”

You shot him a look of surprise. The skeptical part of your brain was nudging you, asking you how such a good opportunity like this was actually presenting itself to you. But the giddy pounding in your heart was desperate to let something good happen—to resolve this weird magnetism.

“You want to?” You sucked in a breath. Now you felt bad for saying no to Eren, but you knew that swimming at his house would mess up your sleep schedule even more. “Okay, but you can’t stay for long. I have work in the morning.”

As long as he stayed for just a little, it’d be fine.

“Okay.” A flush of pink steadily rose to his cheeks. “Thank you.”

The whole walk back to your car—no, the whole drive back to your apartment, you were reeling in disbelief. Because you knew something was bound to happen and he was going to ask more from you and the kitchen situation from earlier was left unspoken.

You arrived and piled out of your car. In the distance, he parked and quickly hopped out, jogging to you.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not bothering you with this. I just…” He trailed off. “What did you want to talk about?”

“Oh yeah, how’d it go with Annie?”

“It was fine. She’s hard to open up. I think I was just saying the wrong things.”

“No, no, I can tell she’s just a reserved person. Did you take my advice from yesterday?”

“Um, yeah I did. I tried my best, at least, but I felt like I was overly nice.” He chuckled dryly.

“It’s fine. At least you’re one step closer.”

He hummed in response, shrugging, watching you fiddle with your keys in the doorknob. You both got a whiff of warm apartment air as soon as it unlocked. It was dark and empty; your roommate wasn’t returning until tomorrow.

His hands found purchase in his pockets, eyes looking around idly. “Wow, I haven’t been here in a while.”

“Yeah, sorry. My roommate is always home, and she doesn’t like guests. But she’s not home right now.”

You immediately curled up into your couch and closed your eyes, sleepiness washing over you like a tide. The cushions dipped beneath your body as Armin took a seat.

You could fall asleep like this. You’d even let him sleep right here, too.

It was silent for a while. The more it prolonged, the more you started to tense.

His voice cut through the silence like a knife. “Hey, sorry for earlier. Back at Connie’s. I don’t know what came over me.”

Your eyes shot open, but you stayed curled up, quiet, because you truthfully didn’t have an answer. This conversation was bound to be brought up. You slowly untangle yourself from your position, sitting up.

“No,” you denied. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me either. You don’t have to apologize at all.” An instinctive gulp hit you quickly and forced saliva down your throat, and you were just there, choked up over your choice of words.

“I—I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. That was really unlike me. It’s good that…it was you, at least.”

Whatever force came over him at that moment…was working. His advances were working. All Armin needed to do was to let that confidence take him over again—to let himself be bold. You shook your head. Neither of you looked at each other—just sitting, talking. And there was something thick and unspoken in the air, resting heavy on your shoulders.

“Armin, I don’t even know why you need my help. I can already see you in a different…” You backtracked, stepping over your words. It was hard to be transparent without making things weird, to salvage as much friendship as you could. “I mean, whatever you’re doing, it’s working. You seem like you know what you’re doing.”

Armin laughed quietly out of his nose, not out of amusement or mockery, you thought, but relief. “R—Really? I don’t know what I did, it just felt right, bad timing and all,” he said.

“It’s fine. It felt right for me, too. You can do anything—” To me. You stopped. “Um, what I—what I mean is, think of it as an extension of our agreement. We can try anything you want. For educational purposes.”

You mentally cursed yourself at your horrible attempt at saving yourself as heat rose to your cheeks. Everything you’d been saying sounded like a confession.

From the corner of your eye, you could vaguely see him dropping his head, face scrunched into a sheepish frown. “Are you sure? What I did wasn’t weird or anything, right?”

This time, you finally faced him. “If I was uncomfortable that time, I wouldn’t have leaned in…I don’t mind at all.”

He laughed again, but this time, it rang sweetly, bashfully. “Okay, um, then can we—can we try something?” he stuttered, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, the certainty leaving his voice as he spoke.

Your heart thumped in your chest as the air surged out of your lungs. You remembered last night, an exact replica of this moment. Dark, late at night, and alone with each other. And he again threw you such a hard request that had your stomach flipping.

Taking in a deep breath, you asked, “What do you want to try?”

He was looking at you now, and God, his eyes were so innocently bright, peering at you with so much eagerness that you wondered if he would always look like this when…

“Teach me how to kiss.”

It came out in a needy whisper, voice fracturing, as if he said it all in one breath. The tension in your chest burst and blood rushed to your head like a storm.

It was one thing to just be kissed—to let it flow in the feel of the moment—and another to be asked for it.

The weight of his words laid on you now, expectant. He came to you for this, and who were you to refuse him?

“S—Sure. We can.” So you shifted closer to him, and you swore the air got heavier, harder to breathe. Your heart felt like it was wrenching itself out of your ribs, beating so hard that it filled your ears.

His eyes bored into you still, unchanging, glossed over with a look of desire that looked so tempting. The blush on his face darkened when you placed a hand on his face, nearing closer and closer. He was soft under your touch, warm and ablaze as you lightly swiped your thumb across his cheek.

“Try to match me, okay? We can stop any time.”

With the final push, you pulled him in.

Your lips slotted against his, slowly and methodically, like you were both trying to get the feel of things. His lips were soft, pliable, and you could feel their plumpness as you pressed into him, urging him on. He moved hesitantly and gently, slower than you, but somehow matching your pace perfectly and so fittingly. You began feeling lightheaded the wetter the kiss became because you couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

You could sense his arm reaching around your body, stopping when his hand grabbed your outer thigh, and in one swoop, he pulled you into him, closing the remaining distance between your bodies. Now, your side was pressed up against his, heat radiating off of him, almost scorching you, reminding you of how close you two were—physically and emotionally.

And then you heard shuffling and the quietest, littlest click, like…like he was silencing his phone.

The kiss was still slow and steady, pushing and pulling, and you could tell he was gaining more confidence. Suddenly, he tilted his head further, pushing, which caused a hitch in your breath. His hand found its way to the back of your neck. He was taking the lead now.

Your face was flushed with heat and your chest was heaving. Lost in the haze, you started lightly sucking on his lips.

It was like this for a while. Sensual and solid and rhythmic as your lips moved in perfect tempo. He was good. A fast learner that took initiative.

You didn’t like having to twist your head like this, so with a bated breath, you pulled away and stood up, hoping for the best. Confusion swam blue in his eyes as he watched you move, like a puppy. Cute.

Lifting your knees, you clumsily scrambled onto his lap, hands gripping onto his shoulders. You refrained from sitting too close because too fast, you thought, too fast for the current lesson and too fast for the anticipation already building in your stomach.

But your plan quickly went out the window because you somehow, somehow, slipped a little too far, inches away from his crotch.

He inhaled sharply as his legs spread wider to support you and his hands instantly grabbed onto the base of your waist. The force of it pushed your shirt up a little, revealing the tiniest sliver of skin.

This reminded you of when you fell into his lap, except this time, you were straddling both of his legs and facing him, and the feeling was nothing like the adrenaline from before. It was all-consuming with desire and just him him him.

“You’re shaking.” You squeezed his shoulders, but you swore you were shaking, too. “Breathe and relax. It’s just me.”

It was ironic; he was nervous now, when before at Connie’s apartment, he wasn’t.

Armin breathed out a shaky laugh, not daring to meet your eyes but rather on a spot on your neck. “I know. It’s you that makes me nervous.”

You couldn’t fight back the smile that crept up your lips, the beat of your heart, and the warmth that traveled up your cheeks.

Looking at him, you noticed it now. The feverish tint of red on his cheekbones and the blown-out pupils, eyes lidded and so dark in this lighting that they almost looked gray. You wondered what you looked like to him right now.

His arms unexpectedly wrapped around your waist, tugging you all the way in until your chests and torsos were flushed against each other and your noses touched. He really did it now.

“Will your roommate be home soon?”

Oh, that was bold. That was bold because he looked up at you with those eyes and pleaded with that voice. You peeked at the time on your living room clock. Just a little past one in the morning.

You weren’t getting any sleep soon, you realized. You remembered Eren—remembered how you declined him because it was late, but here you were.

When Armin didn’t receive an answer, he caught you off guard with a tiny peck to your lips.

You gulped.

“No.”

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starlightdreaming · 1 month

Text

Lucifer Morningstar x Reader! Ch. 3!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel!

Content Warning: more… angst. with some comfort..(?) idk starve lol. blood and vulgar words. SUPER LONG CHAPTER TOO WOO! (nonproof read too)

Synopsis: after going through severe depression, you mentally and physically shut down.

Further note: THANK YOU FOR THE PEOPLE WHO ARE SUPPORTING MY SERIES (Lululuna) IT MAKES ME SO FUCKIGN HAPPY AAHAHAHHDVENE (this is also my favorite chapter I’ve been waiting to write HEHEHHE) ENJOY READING AS IVE ENJOYED WRITING IT - ✨Lolo💫

Chapters!: Chapter 1 ✧ Chapter 2 ✧ Chapter 3 (you are here) •<•)b ✧ Chapter 4 ✧ Chapter 5

THIS CHAPTERS SONG IS uhhHhahwueh

(optional but recommended!)

｡･:*:･ﾟLululuna･ﾟ:｡*:･｡

After sending Lucifer away, you were silent during the whole aftermath ordeal.

You stared at the ground for a long while, sitting in the middle of the court room, ignoring and blocking everyone that was talking or looking at you. In a room so loud, in your mind, it was deathly silent.

Sera went to you, tapping your shoulder softly, “come along now, Y/n,” She says, softly, “Let’s get you home, alright?” She offers, standing up, waiting for you to collect yourself and get up as well.

the carpet was drenched with a puddle of tears, you felt like a part of you was gone forever… and you weren’t ever going to get it back. You dry your tears, using your sleeves to wipe them off your face before getting up and taking Sera’s hand into your own, she held your hand softly, teleporting you to the front of your home.

“Take all the time you need.” Sera says, understanding how much pain you were going through, you have told her everything after all in your years of working with her after you and Lucifer fell apart. She teleported away as you stood at your front door for a moment, staring at the door before unlocking it and pushing it open with no effort at all, your home was dark from how late it was,

The sun was gone, put away to rest, and the moon was present, subtle and set.

You walked into your home, stars barely dimming any light in the dark home, you closed your door behind you, leaning on it with a sigh, your exhausted eyes felt puffy from all the tears you had shed after seeing Lucifer for the last time, the way he looked at you as he fell, bore into your mind, it’s been haunting you since.

‘maybe it was a mistake?’ you thought as you conversed in your head for the nth time that day, your mind was haunting you endlessly with years of torment after Lucifer left you behind, your heart and mind were always arguing with one another, your heart always begged to talk things out even if the pain was unbearable but your mind was more of in control with your body, trying to keep your heart safe, trying to keep you safe from any more suffering. you just didn’t know what to do.

Tears fell from your eyes again that night, wishing to be held and comforted by someone who would understand the same pains as you, and that someone was no one.

Down at your door you sat, hugging your knees as you cried out your pain, the exact same spot when you cried yourself to sleep on your last birthday, the last birthday you shared with Lucifer. It wasn’t a good memory to remember but… it was a memory that was telling you, ‘here we are, once again.’ and that was enough to make you cry harder as you hugged yourself with the silence screams that no one could ever see or hear…once.. again.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

Day in, day out.

As time passed, you were slowly recovering from the losses of your childhood friend.

Day in, day out.

As time passed, you focused on your work behind the scenes, Emily bringing joy to those around Halo city, welcoming winners and Heaven born angels all around. With more Earth born angels arriving in Heaven, the population of the people grew, meaning more expansions of the city and more expansions of the city, meant you had to work much, much longer.

Day in, day out.

You were falling behind on your creations, being the only ‘angel’ that could make stars, Sera would often have to come and talk to you and your issues of the star makings. You and Sera both tried to get other angels to make the same stars as you, sentient and beautiful, but it was only ever botched and dull when anyone else tried to make them, leaving you at a loss. You often had to stay up in late night hours, until the sun came back up, barely ever giving you the chance to go back home and rest. After one problem, another came along, you began to feel confined behind those four walls.

Day in, day out.

Your life was just stuck in the same room, rarely ever getting out, star after star, it began to be repetitive and passionless, everything was the same.

Day in, day out.

Sera would often visit you, telling you to keep making an nth amount of stars today or tomorrow, sooner or later, she would just leave notes and piles of paperwork her employers would send to you, leaving you in the dust, life became frail and dulling, you were just a machine at that point, neglected and forgotten as you kept making sentient stars constantly.

Day in, day out.

Nothing’s new. Days, weeks, months, years, nothing was changing as you drowned more in more into a bleak and miserable office, you felt more and more empty, you would wake up and sleep, you lost track of time at this point, your office was just a mess of star dust and stars, the windows were black from the dust staining the windows making them unobtrusive, you sat on the floor in the center, feeling stuck and hopeless. Surrounded by the only thing that brought you comfort, now becoming the only thing you were ever useful for.

Day in, day out.

How long has passed? You didn’t care anymore. All you wanted was to escape and be free from this basked room of misery and self loathing, your stars became gloopy and sticky, they were melting in this room like you were.

Day in, day out.

You couldn’t bare another minute in the same room, your arms were stained black from stars that melted on you from time to time, the stars were barely ever successfully made anymore, you just couldn’t continue anymore.

Day in, day out.

Long and forgotten you were, nothing new and changing, just you in a black room, full of dust and gloopy stars. You laid there meaninglessly, your eyes lifeless and you completely numb, tired and exhausted.

Day in, day out.

Nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new, nothing’s new.

Day in, day out.

After days of laying there, eating your own stars as survival, refusing to allow anyone into your room, Sera finally showed up for once after eons or centuries? you don’t even know anymore. She wasn’t as loving or caring as she used to be, it was to be expected since you lost sight of you as a sister and more of a machine. When she ordered you to get up and do something, you refused to respond as you continued to lay there, seeing as doing anything anymore was futile.

She commanded you again and she received no result, When she picked you up from the ground, she saw how lifeless you really were, she teleported you to a hospital, getting you attention from the doctors as quick as possible, they checked you, you were alive, obviously, but mentally, you died out long ago.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

The nurses cleaned and fed you, you were barely responsive but it was progress to them if you ever reacted.

You laid in that hospital bed, day in, day out.

One day, Emily came to visit you, you didn’t bother until she used her powers on you. As the joy bringer of the people, she managed to give you a glimpse of happiness again and that was enough to bring color back into your eyes and look at her.

A nurse watching, left to contact a doctor. Emily smiled at you as she channeled her energy to you, hugging you and asking you questions to see if you would respond, it took awhile but you managed to wry a smile and tell her, “hi..” a croak in your voice from how raspy your throat felt, she tilted her head with a comforting smile, “hi,” she said, “how are you feeling?” she asks genuinely, her hand over your yours as she channeled more of her angelic energy, soothing you physically and mentally, “I’m alright.” you responded with a croaky voice, “yeah?” she asks, “yeah.” you respond.

A doctor showed up to give you a thorough check up, the nurse following and thanking Emily as she lightly laughed off the nurses praises. Your eyes were still dull but they had color now, the bags under your eyes were visible from the years lack of resting, black circles covered your eyes but seeing you be able to smile was just enough for the doctor to say you were responsive now. The doctor and nurse left the room to get you your meal or checking on other patients, leaving you and Emily once again.

Emily would talk to you, making small conversations, tell you about her day and sharing her energy with you again to make you more at ease, she even told you how Sera refused to let her see you cause you were always too busy for visitors, that was true but it was also the reason you were here in the first place. When visiting time was over she promised to come back to visit you tomorrow, you smiled at that, waving bye as she left.

Now it was you, yourself, and the white room and for once, you decided to stand up and look outside the window, the stars shined and dimmed brightly that night, the stars were the only thing making your eyes shine that night, their light reflecting off your eyes irises.

with the day done and in, you rested peacefully in that hospital bed, letting the day out.

Emily visited everyday to see you, still seeing you as a sister and telling you her life stories, she even managed to make you laugh at one point, it was a big laugh but it was genuine and thats what matters to her. At one point, you managed to ramble off about stars and the ideas you had for them, you got to show her how you made them, you tried to show her as well when she requested to guide her to make one, obviously it didn’t work but she smiled whenever she got to be given the chance to, she gave you the botched star that was lavender blue, it was small with imperfections but for the first time in the longest time, someone had given you something and you never were letting it go.

You used a little bit of your stardust to make it stick in your hair, making sure it stays there, no matter what. Emily smiled when she saw it in your hair, seeing how much it matters to you. You and Emily both spent the entire day talking and creating, sharing and conversing, it was so comforting and warm, her light was guiding you out of that dark abyss you had made for yourself and eventually- you were out the hospital.

You went back to that same office room but this time, you cleaned it, you made more stars, the neglected ones being perfected and revived, sentient and chiming. With your office cleaned you decided to get a meeting with Sera personally. It took a few days but it was accepted and eventually you were in her office, she looked at you authoritatively, not seeing you as she had once, who knows long ago.

“What is it, Y/n?” She says, sitting at her desk as you walked up to her desk and took a seat in the chair at the opposite end. “I quit.” You spoke, unhesitant, “What?” She says, rather surprised, “I quit,” you smiled, crossing your arms, “at making stars for you and the people.” you finished, watching her reaction change, “and what makes you think you can?” She says with a slightly aggressive tone, glaring at you slightly, “I am my own person, I want a new job,” You say, sitting back in your chair, “then- will I make more stars for you.” You say, your her fingers intertwined and resting on your lap, legs crossed.

She stood up, her figure towering over you from over the table, “You refused to continue your work, end up in a hospital for who knows what and now you’re asking for a new job?” She asked, feeling rather insulted like you can laze around and do whatever you want, “Yes, that’s exactly what.” You smiled, unbothered, Emily made you feel this way, like a new person, she was therapy itself in a way.

“And you think you can handle a different job? even when you couldn’t even handle your own?” She glares, you leaned forward into your chair, “got bored with the stars thing, without a doubt I can do something else.” You say looking at her smugly, making her harden her glare at you. maybe Emily gave you too much of her energy.

“Fine then.” She says, turning around, looking away from you and out the window, she snapped her fingers and a man appeared next to you, “Woah- wait, what the fuck?” He says, looking around the room, looking at Sera, then at you, “You will be working with Adam from now on,” She says, turning back to you, you and Adam staring at each other awkwardly, before he began to wiggle his eyebrows at you with a flirty smirk, “Adam, you are to train and teach Y/n, show and tell her what she will be doing.” Sera orders, you had your knees up in the chair leaning away from Adam, due to him gawking at you before he looked away to Sera, “Wait now? Don’t you think it’s too soon for any recruits?” He questions, pointing a thumb at you.

“She wanted a new job since she failed to do her own,” Sera explains to Adam as you rolled your eyes from her statement, “since she says she can handle a new one, I’m giving her this one.” Sera finishes, sitting down back in her chair, “But we were just about to start? she wont even have time to prepare?” Adam responds, scratching his horn confused from this sudden meeting, “Then I suggest you get started,” Sera commands, going back to skimming through papers, “Dismissed.” She says, as you and Adam turn to each other confused.

You both left together, him leading and you following silently and awkwardly, your confidence long and left you after Adam appeared. “So what’s your name again? Already forgot.” He says looking at you, bending down slightly for you to meet face to face, you backed away from his action, “err, Y/n.” you respond, looking away for a moment before looking back at him, “Well nice to meet you, names Adam, first man, best man.” He smiles, reaching his hand out for you to take, you hesitated before shaking his hand, wrying a smile, “pleasure.” You speak, only giving him that response.

You both exited the building before flying, going to who knows where, “soo, before we get started, should probably ask what you do before you jump in the big ordeal, what do you do and how can you benefit us?” He asks, you flying alongside him, “I can do stellar manipulation, cosmic manipulation and stellar healing but im terrible at it,” You rambled, pointing a finger up after listing off your abilities, “What I can do best is making sentient stars do my bidding, like the stars that are all over Halo city? I made those.” You smiled, “Woah! wait, you made all those things come alive? that’s fucking sick!” He says complimenting you, “So you must be a big deal huh?” He smirks, “Ehh, I guess?” You shrug slightly with a smile.

“Ohoh, if you can control those stars, then you’re perfect for this job.” He smirks as he lands, you landed behind him as you looked around at everyone, them all wearing the same suits, you were confused now, just what even is this job?

“Sir? where did you go?” a female voice asked, “Sera teleported me outta nowhere for me to bring someone along with us,” he explains pointing to you, you walk up to her, “greetings, I’m Y/n.” you smile and waved, “Lute, Adam’s Lieutenant.” She says as she straightens her posture, giving you a short and slim response. “Attention ladies! we have a sudden and new guest! this is uhh,” he pauses before leaning toward you, “fucks your name again?” he asks as you deadpanned, how does someone forget a name so fast? “Y/n.” You respond, “Y/n!” He says, “Seraphim of the stars or something.” He says, trying to make you sound like big talk, “She will be joining us today, she isn’t prepared but thats okay, she will just be an audience for today at most, so everyone prepare yourselves,” Adam says as they pull out spears, making your confusion more piqued, “and let’s this fucking show on a roll!” he shouts, a portal opening, him flying off with his lieutenant.

You were caught off guard from them suddenly flying off, you followed, a little behind but you caught up quickly to Adam, (being a seraphim and all) staying behind him and Lute, when you went through the portal, you paused in the air, confused on where in the world were you? everything was red, the sky, the ground, it wasn’t long before you started hearing screaming in the distance, the angel army was flying and attacking, monster like creatures, “What the fuck is this?” You say in shock, “Oh shit, you curse too? fucking sweet!” Adam says, showing up next to you, watching the angels slaughter the creatures, “where am I?!” You ask with a shaky voice, concern and worry filling your voice, “You’re in hell, bitch!” He says, summoning an angelic guitar made of pure gold, strumming it.

“WHAT?” You say absolutely baffled from his answer, you quickly turned to look down at the destroyed city, those little things running around and screaming, pleading for their lives as they get brutally slaughtered, “why are we killing them?! they did nothing!” You say in a terrified voice, looking back at Adam, “calm down bitch, fuck,“ He says, making you glare at him instantly, “they’re sinners! We give them divine judgment!” He smirks, flying down and killing a sinner without hesitation, “Stop it!” You tell at him, your angelic form appearing from how terrified you were to discover that your divine people were slaughtering innocent souls that have done nothing but accept their damnation, “No, you stop it!” He says, flying back up to you, making you fly back when he got too close, “Sera ordered you to follow my lead, you are under my command!” He yells back, an explosion happening behind him, a city building tumbling, you stared in guilt, you didn’t even do anything to them and yet all you could feel was pure sympathy and sorrow for those souls who didn’t deserve the judgment they were receiving.

“Now, you’re going down there and helping us kill these fuckers or you can sit and watch.” Adam orders, you didn’t have any words to respond with as you looked down at the sinners, there was a young lady who was carrying a child away from the chaos, you couldn’t help but watch, you were too stunned to process anything, Adam flew off mumbling something under his breath, definitely cursing at you but you didn’t even care at that moment.

An angel chasing quickly behind the two sinners, the angels spear charging towards the two, before you can even give a second thought, you summoned a star quickly, tossing it at the angel, hitting them down before they could hurt the two, you gasped, surprised from your own actions, you hurt an angel, the angels you’re supposed to care for and protect! you watched the angel shrug it off like nothing before flying away to a different direction, giving the sinners the chance to run, why was Heaving allowing slaughter? doesn’t this go against the very foundations of Heaven? why didn’t you know about this was ever happening? and how long has it been happening? Sera assigned you here, so it’s obvious she knows! why would she allow this- wait.. does the father of Heaven know?

You quickly flew down to the city to find Adam, to find answers, but all you saw was bloodshed and destruction, spears left behind and angels flying around like they were proud of themselves, it gave you a gut wrenching feeling, “please spare me! don’t kill me!” A voice called out, you turned to see a sinner running for their life, your eyes widen when you see an angel walking up to the sinner, a manic laugh following behind them, you ran toward the sinner and the angel, you stood between them both, stopping the angel in her tracks, “I command you to stop!” you say aggressively.

The angel taken back by your sudden actions and outburst, “What are you doing? move it.” the angel said, trying to shove you away but you pushed back and it made the angel push you completely to the ground, moved to the side, you didn’t have any attributes to physical fighting and it showed, you fell to the ground, looking up quickly to see the angel about to attack, without a second thought, you summons another star, a rather big one and made it push her aggressively, you made the star make the angel collide with a building, knocking the angel out, you gasped, not meaning to go that far but you turned to the sinner and ran to their aid, “are you okay??” you ask the terrified man before you, he looked at you in awe, you angelic features making the man stunned and mesmerized, “yes… thank yo- gh-“ the man choked, a spear through his throat, his blood splattered onto your clothes, hands and face, you closed your eyes for a moment from the sudden liquid of blood covering your face.

You opened your eyes and your eyes widened when you saw Adam and Lute in front of you, the sinner headless and long gone of life, “Fuck do you think you’re doing?” Adam said, yelling at you, you looked down and stared at the red, staining your hands, your breath hitched, you were trying to save a soul and it died immediately in front of you, before your very eyes, from feeling sympathy and sorrow, you clutched your hands tightly, a fit of rage riling up inside you, “ADAM! THIS STOPS NOW!” You shout, your angelic appearance in full as you flew into the air, cosmic dust following your form, your wings emitted cosmic dust, along with your hands, star dust following suit.

You glared at Adam, Lute glaring back at you, sensing you were about to become a threat, she immediately charged at you before swinging at you, you immediately summoned a star as a shield, side eyeing her, you made the star push her down, away from you, another star attacking her swiftly and powerfully, knocking her out too, Adam watched it happen so quickly, “What the fuck was that? what did you do to Lute?!” He says, going after you next, he was much slower but he managed to fight off your stars as he kept swinging at you, you being the faster flying, dodged easily, they may have been more experienced than you but they were so damn sloppy with their attacks. not to mention as a seraphim, you are much more stronger.

You flew higher into the air, a radiant aura forming around you, “This massacre ends now, Adam.” you say in a monotone voice, focusing on your power as you began to summon multiple stars, making all sentient at once, you were using a lot of stamina for this but you were willing to do this if it meant stopping this meaningless wrath of judgment.

You had made stars fall, multiple stars stuck onto Adam as he tried to fight them off but you made the goopy ones specifically for him, eventually he was invulnerable to move, the stars sticky and drippy, making it hard for him to struggle, you glared at Adam silently as he began to curse you out, you made a big star float flatly, carrying Lute back into the portal along with Adam as the stars took his guitar and carried it with him separately, your other stars retrieved the other angels in this army, dragging them all back forcefully to the portal, you made the other spare stars fly up to the skies and make it rain stardust in the skies, the dust was full of healing properties, making sure the sinners that survived could heal physical injuries, you hoped it was enough for them since you weren’t very experienced with the healing attributes you had, feeling your stamina drained, you flew back to the portal, closing it as you flew to the grounds of Heavens cloud, panting heavily, you had never used that much of your abilities like that before, all at once in fact.

You looked up to see Adam pissed off at, struggling to break free from goopy stars you still had on him, you laughed lightly at this, that shits kinda funny.

You splat onto the cloud, face first, regaining your stamina for a bit, meanwhile the whole army Adam had was conversing in confusing, they tried to help Adam get out of the goop but that only made the. stuck with him, you turned to lay on your back, wings following and looked up to the sky, for once, you felt rather proud of yourself for being able to full something like that but now it was the worse part to come, after recollecting your energy, you got up and flew off, dragging Adam with you, the stars of goop following as he muffled our screams.

When you returned to Sera’s office, you busted down the door with any respect, “Sera!” you shouted angrily, “We need to take about this job offer.” you grumbled, slamming your hands down her desk, the goop of stars putting Adam down as he deadpanned at you and Sera. Sera’s eyes widened from your sudden outburst and the blood covering your body, “I assume you couldn’t handle it?” Sera asked, after recollecting herself, “Handle it? I more than handled it, I dragged a whole fucking army back into Heaven!” You screamed, Sera glared as she stood up, “That was not your job, your job was to follow Adams orders!” she spoke back sternly, “This job and his orders are hypocritical to what we believe in! this is conflicting to the foundation of Heaven!” You argued back as Adam watched, Sera stared at you before sighing, “Can we speak alone about this?” she requests, eyeing Adam, signaling you to let him leave, “fine.” you scowl at her in detestation, you snap your fingers and the goop evaporated, also summoning his guitar to give back to him, “Christ, you’re a crazy bitch, you know that?” He says insultingly, he spoke as soon he got his guitar but you ignored him as the ordered the with a swift of your finger, the stars dragged him out the room and shut the door, all while you stared at Sera with displeasure.

“Why would you let winners and heaven born give divine judgment to sinners? What was your plan? What the fuck even is this job??” You began, hostility filling your voice. “The sinners were uprising, they were getting more and more bigger in population!” Sera responds, beginning her explanation, “and?” you asked unconvinced, “They were getting stronger, of they become to powerful, they may even reach the Heavens! they would take over and spread evil all over our realm.” She continues as you scoff, “and why would you think that? you doubting your fathers abilities to keep that under control?” you point out as she looks away, making you ponder, “does he even know you’re allowing your people to slaughter souls?” You ask.

She glared at you as she sat up in her seat, “He doesn’t and won’t know.” she says calmly and authoritatively, “seriously?! you’re doing this behind his back?!” You say, raising your voice in shock and anger, “unbelievable!” You say as you step beck from her desk, turning to leave her office, “and where do you think you’re going?” She asks, “where am I going? i’m going to tell all of Heaven on what the fuck you’re doing thats what!” you shout back, opening the door to leave but it shits immediately, Sera now in front of you, “you’re not going anywhere.” she says darkly, her figure towering over you as eyes appeared over her body, her angelic form showing.

You stepped back, looking at her staring daggers at her as she stepped closer to you, “and what makes you think I can’t?” you taunt, as she stood tall in front of you, “you will be silenced.” She says as pulls out an angelic spear of her own, knowing that she was threatening your life now, “What will Emily think when she finds you slaughtered her own sister?” You ask, putting up a facade of bravery, trying not show that she was getting to you, “Emily is not your sister.” Sera says aggressively and threateningly with pure hostility in her voice, seeing as that got to her it made you smug, “We’ll see when she finds out about how you allow her people kill the innocent.” You smirk with a shit-eating grin, knowing that no matter what she did, it wouldn’t turn out well for her.

It in-fact: did not turn out well for you, “We’ll see, when you’re gone for good.” She says as she swiftly moved you too quickly for you to react, her angelic spear carving your back, a mass amount of pain following as you screamed, you fell forward as she pushed you down as she stabbed her spear through her wing, making you wince in pain, adrenaline fueling your body from the shock that she actually took this path of violence. You tried to get up but she stepped on your back, pushing you back down, you look up at her in fear, her cold dead eyes staring into yours, “long before you know it, Emily will forget you even exist.” She says, swinging at your back again as you scream from agony, golden blood now mixing into the dried blood that covered you, you were shaking from terror and pain, she picked you up from your neck, as you struggled in her grasp, “stop- it!-“ you begged, trying to breathe, trying to kick her off you as golden blood dripped onto the ground in her office, she didn’t respond as she opened a portal, you turned to look, the familiar red skies before your very eyes, you turn to Sera desperately, “Don’t do this!-“ you gasped, struggling more in desperation, “You can’t!” You say, trying to pull her grasp off you, you were losing air and the stamina in your body.

“But I will.” She says with no solace or pity in her voice, she threw you into the portal with a second thought, closing it quickly, you gasped for air, adrenaline fueling your body as you regained oxygen to breathe but that was the least of your worries now, you were falling and your wings were to injured to fly, you were panicking as you tried to use your wings to fly but the pain was to unbearable, you saw your stars in the sky from earlier, protecting the sinners, thats it! thats your only ticket, you immediately tried to summon stars but it was a struggle to do so from how much power you already used from earlier, you had to overexert your abilities again, you mustered all the strength you had left within you, your angelic form showing as a bright colorful aura gleamed around you, you summoned stars but it was so hard to focus with adrenaline and panic that was fueling your body, you manage to make some stars but they were falling with you, some staying in place in the air for you to land on but you would quickly bounce off them from impact, you couldn’t focus at all, the sky rained stars that you had tried to quickly make but failed to use, it was too late as you crashed into the ground, a crater formed around you.

Your whole body hurt, it hurt more than anything you felt before, you weakly tried to sit up, you look at something glowing on the ground, you look to see a lavender blue star, the imperfect perfect star Emily had gifted you fell out of your hair, you winced in pain as your reached for the star, grabbed it and holding it to your chest as you laid back onto the ground, completely lost of any stamina and energy left to give.

Golden blood began to surround and puddle around you, the adrenaline and pain was the only thing keeping you awake right now, you laid there weakly, looking at the now red skies, you couldn’t do anything but only to try and breathe, trying to stay away, you were alone and no one in hell was going to go and try to save you. You were helpless, alone, once again. You couldn’t help but cry, scream in pain, why was this always happening to you? Why couldn’t you just find happiness? Why couldn’t the universe- help its only and dearest child? Your screams were so loud but they always heard im deaf ears, why did fate choose you to suffer this path? you screamed until you couldn’t anymore, you stared at the red sky as you waited for your in pending death. While looking at the sky, you see the stars shift toward you, raining their star dust onto you, the dust leaving soft touches on your skin, they felt like cool kisses, soothing your pain, you smiled weakly at your creations, your eyes feeling heavy as they tried closing, you fighting to keep them open but you eventually lost that battle.

eventually, everything went to black.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

TAGLISTT WEEEE:

@ag-cookiebat800 @meow-meowo @kyo-kyo1 @darling-may-i @pink-apples001

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damn-stark · 9 months

Text

Sugar

Geto Suguru x Gojo!fem-reader & Choso x Gojo!fem-reader

Summary- Love is a fickle thing isn’t it? Life isn’t so sweet. People are meant to love, lose, and love again; sorcerers like you more than most. You endure pains that non-sorcerers will never experience a speck of in their lifetimes. So much is expected of you not only because you’re a Gojo; a sorcerer from one of the prestigious sorcerer families, but because you were lucky or unlucky to be born special grade as well. All your life you were taught to be one way and follow a path, but remember that pain you get to experience in order to protect the lives of non-sorcerers? Well, that pain gets to you and deviates you down a dark path with Suguru Geto, a man you love, your hope, and the one who stays. Yet that path is dark and twisty, full of surprises that bring life, and loss most of all. When will enough be enough, and will you be able to find that light in a lifetime of darkness you so crave? Will you change your ways after years of defection and thinking you’re right? Do you believe in second chances after what you’ve done?

Moodboard, fighting outfits concepts

Suguru geto x y/n Gojo moodboard, Satoru Gojo x y/n Gojo moodboard, Kento Nanami x y/n Gojo, Choso x Y/N

Chapter 1 Angelfish

Chapter 2 Just a girl

Chapter 3 The first one

Chapter 4 Live for the hope of it all

Chapter 5 Appeasing

Season 2 (Hidden inventory arc)

Chapter 6 Where you are

Chapter 7 The Ballad of Jujutsu sorcerer

Chapter 8 The world’s a little blurry

Chapter 9 Hearing damage

Chapter 10 I’ll know, I’ll know

Jjk 0 Movie

Chapter 11 It almost worked

Chapter 12 Fallen Angel

Chapter 13 It’s over isn’t it?

Chapter 14 Lost in the darkness

Season 2 (Shibuya Arc)

Chapter 15 The start of something new

Chapter 16 The last supper

Chapter 17 Kill of the night

Chapter 18 Happy birthday, by the way

Chapter 19 I’m sorry for your loss

Chapter 20 Intergalactic

Itadori Execution Arc

Chapter 21 But then I found you

Chapter 22 What never was

Tengen arc

Chapter 23 You’re an angel, I’m a dog

Chapter 24 By saying something stupid like…

Chapter 25 Blood, dragons, curses and black holes

Sukuna v Satoru

Chapter 26 Sweet Gojo

Chapter 27 The sun will shine on us again

Chapter 28 A song for us

Chapter 29 Birthday surprises

Chapter 30 Two can be as bad as one

Chapter 31 All through the night

Chapter 32 Our last goodbye

Chapter 33 Haven’t I given enough?

Chapter 34 Two birds on a wire…

Chapter 35 …One says c’mon and the other says I’m tired

Chapter 36 Be the One Fallen from Grace, be Death

Side stories

Wedding bells (takes place in between chapter 10) takes place in 2008 & 2009

Colors of the wind (takes place in between chapter 10) takes place in 2012

Fun trend not so great (before season 2 starts)

The soul (takes place in ch.17)

Satori info page

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shadesslut · 8 months

Text

loving her was red, pt. 6

Pairing: (Dark!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader)

Content Includes: (Violence, death)

Summary: As the group bunkers down at the apartment, they experience an unwanted visit.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7

✮

Ethan’s arms hugged her sleeping body lazily. There was a soft glow from the city lights in the window, shining onto her face, marking her features. He slowly fluttered his eyes open as he awoke, and he instantly smiled at the sight of her. He grazed her lips with his fingers, before softly kissing her. A small groan escaped from her lips, her now waking up. She smiled at Ethan, before a panicked look overtook her face.

“What time is it?” She asked as she sat up, to which Ethan followed.

He reached behind her to his nightstand, picking up his phone. “6:30, damn we really slept all day.”

She cursed under her breath before standing up and looking around for her things. As she picked off her scattered belongings, Ethan got dressed.

“What’s wrong?” Ethan asked her, stopping her frantic motions as he gently grabbed her arm. She looked down at his grip, then to him.

“I promised Ch-“ She stopped upon seeing Ethan’s turned expression. “-the others, that I would stay with them tonight. I was supposed to get there at six.”

Shit, tonight was supposed to be the night where I have to, Ethan remembered. He didn’t want this, he wanted her far, far away from the group tonight. Especially, tonight. “It’s not safe near them.” He argued. She only shook her head and got out of his grip. He watched her sadly as she headed towards the front door, texting aimlessly on her phone.

“I have to go, please be safe at your class tonight.” She said, now looking at Ethan. He softly smiled at her worry, and he pulled her into a quick hug. She reciprocated and wrapped her arms around his torso.

“Don’t go,” he whispered into her hair, holding her tightly in his arms. He was scared, scared she would get hurt. He knew he had to protect her from his family, from Chad, but he was scared of her knowing the truth about him. What would she do once she found out? Would she tell the others? Would she try to kill him? Would she not love him?

“I have to,” she whispered back, before letting go and giving him a peck on his nose. He blushed, slightly, and he watched as she left.

His phone buzzed softly in his pocket, and without even looking he knew it was his father.

Dad

You ready?

6:35 pm

Ethan’s eyes watered as he read the text message. Whatever it took, he would not let her get hurt. He would make sure he did everything in his power to keep her away from the monsters, even if it meant he had to suffer.

Ethan

Yeah, on my way

6:36 pm

—

Y/N sat next to Mindy and Anika on the couch of Tara and Sam’s apartment. Chad was in the kitchen, limping back into the living room holding three drinks. Y/N immediately stood up and helped him, taking the drinks from him.

“You should rest,” she suggested as she sat the drinks down. He huffed, plopping down on the sofa chair.

“I’m fine.” He responded coldly. He stared at the TV, ignoring her looks. Let’s just say, Chad didn’t take it well when he heard she went home with Ethan this morning.

Y/N looked at Chad sadly, filled with guilt. She sat back down, next to Mindy, who gave her a sympathetic look.

“Don’t let his jealousy get to you.”

Y/N rolled her head back onto the couch, sighing. “I just wished he would talk to me. He’s my best friend.”

Mindy looked at Chad, who leaned his head on his closed fist. Chad, as if he could feel Mindy’s stare, looked at her, and mouthed a “What?” Mindy cut her eyes to Y/N, causing Chad to look away sadly.

“Okay!” Mindy exclaimed, startling the group. “Anika and I are gonna start on dinner, Sam said she’ll be back from the hospital in a few, so,” Mindy said, pulling Anika off the couch and into the kitchen. Chad and Y/N looked at each other, before looking away. There were a few beats of uncomfortable silence, filled with soft voices of Anika and Mindy.

Chad looked up at her, noticing how tired her eyes looked. He mentally slapped himself for being cold to her, and he put on a forceful smile.

“Hey.” He softly said, gaining her attention.

“Hi?” She giggled.

He smiled and looked down, he really did miss seeing her smile. “I’m sorry about how things have been, I miss you.”

She shook her head at his apology, rejecting it. “It’s not your fault there’s been a murderer after us.”

“I mean with…with Ethan.”

“Oh.” She responded. “Are you really upset about it?” She asked, dumbly.

He let out a tired chuckle, rubbing his temple. “Yes, yes I am.” She gave him a look full of pity. She had hoped he knew that she truly wouldn’t hurt Chad, not on purpose at least. Her mind pinged with slight confusion, remembering Ethan’s words.

“He told me he was over you today.”

Did he lie just to get in her pants? She didn’t want to believe it, believe that Ethan had lied to her.

“Y/N, I’m truly only saying this because I’m worried about you.” Chad broke her out of her daze. She looked up at him and nodded, insisting he continued. “I don’t trust him, he just, it seems like he’s hiding something.”

“He’s your best friend Chad-“ She sighed.

“No, you’re, my best friend.”

She slumped her shoulders down, and just as she was mustering up a response, Anika walked into the living room. “Hey, dinner’s ready if you want to set the table up.” She offered, smiling. Y/N smiled and nodded, standing up and walking towards the dining room.

Chad sat still for a moment before following her.

—

Ethan waited uncomfortably under Quinn’s bed, breath hitting back onto his face from the mask. He softly groaned as he heard Quinn and her hookup makeout. He looked at his watch, 7:45 pm, just five more minutes of this personal hell he was in. He heard Quinn’s hookup shout something from the bathroom incoherent to Ethan, and Quinn responded. Alright, Ethan thought, showtime.

In the dining room, Chad, Mindy, Sam, and Y/N sat at the table, while Anika sat in the living room.

“Anika! Get your skinny ass in here!” Mindy shouted, to which Anika flipped her off and turned the volume up on the TV.

Y/N turned to Sam, who had been constantly checking her phone. “How’s Tara?” Y/N asked Sam, who was staring into space. Sam turned her head towards her, and she mumbled an she’s fine. Y/N nodded, and looked back to her plate. Mindy looked between the three of them, who all sat in silence. She was tired of the awkward tension in the air, she wanted things to go back to normal.

“You guys need to stop being boring,” Mindy complained, slightly hitting Chad’s shoulder.

“Fuck off,”

“I think everyone’s just… on edge. Let’s talk about something nice.” Sam suggested, giving the three younger ones an encouraging smile. Y/N glanced at Mindy, who was giving her a sly smirk.

“I know what we can talk about,” Y/N cooed at Sam, earning a chuckle from Mindy, and she even got an exciting reaction from Chad. Chad leaned up from his seat onto the table. “What’s up with you and cute boy?” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Mindy clapped her hands as Sam looked away bashfully. The two girls teased the oldest, and just as Mindy made kissy faces at Sam, her phone rang. Y/N saw Danny’s contact picture and immediately snatched her phone. “Oh, should I answer? I think I have a few questions for him,” She joked as she laughed with Mindy, whilst Sam tried to grab her phone back. Chad quietly laughed along with them as he crossed his arms.

They heard a loud thud from Quinn’s room, along with groaning. Mindy let out a cackle as she heard the noises. “Guess Quinn is getting down and dirty again,”

Y/N laughed as she handed Sam back her phone, who declined the call. The noises became louder, rougher, and the group continued to laugh. There was a loud slam against the wall, and Chad muttered, “Jesus christ,” All of their phones dinged, which raised a level of confusion amongst the group. They all opened their phones, to see a picture of Quinn, and Ghostface, arms wrapped around each other as Quinn tried to get out of his grip. Her clothes were bloody, and her bed corner was pushed to the side. Immediately, they stood up and ran to the living room, stopping right in front of Quinn’s bedroom door. Anika stood up as they rushed in, asking them what was happening. Y/N reached for the door handle, but was pulled away by Chad.

They stood in their positions motionless in fear as they waited for the pin to drop. Suddenly, the door swung open, and Quinn’s lifeless body flung out, falling on Anika, who let out a blood-curdling scream.

“Shit,” Chad cursed as Ghostface appeared in the doorway.

Under the mask, Ethan was a different person. He felt his entire body filled with ecstasy as he stood over the group. He swung his knife across Mindy’s shoulder, leaving a deep cut. She screamed in pain as she clutched her arm.

Chad rushed to the front door and opened it, yelling at the others to follow him. Sam grabbed Y/N’s hand as she yelled at Mindy and Anika, and she started to tug Y/N towards the door. Ethan’s head jerked to Sam’s hand that held Y/N’s.

He rushed towards Sam, slashing at her, but accidentally cut Y/N’s arm. His eyes widened as she groaned in pain, instantly wanting to apologize to her and hold her. He shook his head as he stayed in character, reaching behind him to close the door shut, locking it.

Anika yelled at him, earning his attention. He reached down and grabbed her by the throat, cutting off her air supply. He threw her against the wall as his gloved hand remained around her throat.

He stabbed her, really stabbed her. He sunk his knife into her abdomen, dragging the blade up as it tore through her skin. She wailed in agony, and Ethan only tilted his head at her, enjoying every second.

He felt something bash against his head, and he fell down clutching the new formed wound. He looked up to see Y/N tightly holding a wooden knife holder. He only stared at her, which made her furrow her brows in confusion.

Sam grabbed at her and pulled her into Quinn’s room, where Anika sat on the bed, holding her stomach.

“Fuck,” Y/N cursed as she saw the blood spewing out onto Anika’s hands. Sam shut the door and locked it. She looked back at the three girls who stood in shock, and her eyes flickered over to the open door that led to the joint bathroom. She whispered to Mindy, telling her to shut it. Mindy only looked at Anika in worry, not moving. Y/N got up and rushed into the bathroom, stopping once she saw something red out of the corner of her eye. She turned to her left and let out a scream as she saw Quinn’s hookup's butchered bloody in the bathtub. Just as she screamed, Ghostface appeared in the other bedroom, staring right at her. She backed up as he walked towards her, his shoulders swaying.

She heard Sam yell at her to close the door, while Ghostface just looked at her. She felt Mindy pull her back, and Ghostface swung at Mindy’s face, cutting her across the cheek. Sam helped the two girls in, and she immediately shut and locked the door.

“Mindy, dresser!” Sam yelled, back against the door. Mindy grabbed onto the dresser and slid it across the door.

“Why didn’t he stab me,” Y/N thought out loud, which only caused Mindy to give her a quick suspicious glance. Sam headed to the window, where Danny shouted to her from the other building.

“Y/N, help,” Mindy groaned, pushing up against the dresser. Y/N quickly snapped out of her gaze, and she rushed over to help Mindy. She felt Ghostface kick the door roughly, pushing both of the girls back a tad. She looked over to Sam, who was holding the end of a metal ladder that sat on the window seal. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Mindy cursed.

“Guys come on!” Sam yelled at them, but they urged her to go first, to which she obliged. Once she went across, Y/N told Mindy to go. Mindy kissed Anika passionately, before making her way across the ladder, shaking slightly.

Y/N looked over to Anika, seeing her hunched over. “Anika you need to go,” Y/N begged. Anika shook her head before turning to Y/N, tears in her eyes.

“You go, I’ll be right behind you.”

The door banged once again, and Y/N cursed before rushing over to the window seal. She climbed onto the ladder and looked back at Anika. “Come on when I’m halfway.”

Anika nodded and stood by the window as she watched her. As she crawled, she felt her hands and knees shake at the height. She heard the others yell at her from the window, but she didn’t focus on them, only the ground below her. She inhaled sharply as she made the halfway mark, looking back to see if Anika had gotten on. Anika cried, climbing onto the ladder. Just as Y/N inched towards them, she saw their eyes glance up to behind her, full of fear.

She looked back, and she saw Ghostface appear in front of the window. Anika let out a cry once she saw him, and Y/N hurried quickly towards Sam’s reached out hand. She felt the ladder shake slightly as Ghostface took a hold of the end. It swayed side to side, the two girls quickly losing their balance. She grabbed onto Sam and Danny’s hands, and she felt the ladder be pulled from behind her. She heard Anika scream, and she looked back. Anika was no longer there, but on the ground.

Mindy sobbed as she stared at Anika’s lifeless body. Sam started to frantically say, “No, no, no,” as she felt the ladder slip from their side.

The ladder fell, causing Y/N to swing against the wall. Sam and Danny held onto her, both letting out a grunt.

“Fuck, fuck, shit,” Y/N cursed, looking down as her legs dangled above the ground. Danny started to tug her up over the seal, and Sam pulled her roughly through the window. Her chest rose up and down quickly as she felt Sam’s arms around her.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam cried as she held onto her tightly. Y/N flicked her eyes over to Mindy, who held her hands on the back of her head as she cried. She felt herself start to cry with them, her heart beating fast. Her stomach felt queasy, and her head hurt badly. He didn’t stab me. He could have stabbed me. She thought. Maybe it was a coincidence, maybe it wasn’t; maybe it didn’t mean anything that he stood staring at her for a minute without rushing to hurt her. Maybe it was a part of his sick game. Maybe he actually didn’t want to hurt her.

(Taglist: @leaveitbythewave, @i-love-milfs2, @cutie-bimbo, @wenvierismycomfort, @lloyd907, @haroldpotterson, @sunshiines-stuff, @cxmeiloorun7, @princessluvz)

#scream #scream vi #scream 6 #ethan landry x reader #ethan landry #jack champion #ghostface x reader #chad meeks x reader #ethan kirsch #chad meeks martin

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val-cansalute · 5 months

Text

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch.2

ch. 1

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 5

ch. 6

Doors bound to frames, and patched up curtains drawn over locked windows with rusted bolts.

The silence has lingered in your room since Ellie left, trying desperately to seep out of any gaps, but you’d sealed them all tight, barricaded yourself in, chained your mind and body to the guilt.

A few days must have passed since then. Who knows? They've all melted into each other like you're constantly between the light of day and the dark of night behind those covered windows.

All you've done is lay and think. Nothing more. Appetite and sleep abandoned you, and you retreated into your consciousness, the dark place that started to feel less like fire and more like warmth.

If Soren saw you now - well, God, you can't bring yourself to even consider that.

People came by intermittently and, by people, only the nurse woman and Maria, both of whom were met with an oh so welcoming silence as you ignored their knocks.

Then returned the silence, which happened to be anything but silent for you - the echo of memories hitting the walls of your mind amplifying, screeching mercilessly and bursting your eardrums from the inside out.

The cracking reverberates the loudest - right as his skull made contact with the wall, sending his brains projecting across it. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets, piercing right through you.

His blood - your blood - insidiously crept it’s way into every corner, painting the walls around his deformed figure, dripping down into glistening crimson pools along the floor, spattering across your face, and absolutely drenching your hands in a way that wiped out any possibility of them ever being clean again.

The bat rattled against floor as you let it slip through your trembling fingers and then your mind went blank.

When you resurface, the thoughts still weigh heavy on your mind, and the malicious hiss,

“What have you done?!”

that usually follows morphs into a bloodcurdling cry, begging for your attention.

You can’t stay here. You cannot.

You are safe here, but you have no desire to be.

Alone and trapped in the memory of what happened that day, surrounded by people who only seem to make you feel even more alone in this dark room.

And you knew you had nothing to live for as soon as Soren was gone.

So, you’ll pack up and leave quietly when you can walk again-

BANG BANG BANG

The howling of the beginnings of a blizzard accompanies the sharp thuds against your door, shaking the frame. It almost scares you before you realise it’s just Maria or the nurse bringing food.

You sigh and pull the covers over your face, seeking relief from the harsh cold.

BANG BANG BANG

“HEY! IT’S ME! ELLIE! I KNOW YOU HAVE A CRUTCH! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

…

“HEY! THERE’S A FUCKING BLIZZARD AND I BROUGHT YOUR ASS FOOD! OPEN THE DOOR!”

BANG BANG-

The lock bursts off the door frame and projects across the room, letting the door fly open, in coming a gust of furious winds and snow, and a panicked string of curses from Ellie’s chapped lips as she rushes in and slams the door shut behind her.

You arose from the bed like a fucking vampire, probably resembling one too, and stared at Ellie who was leaning against the door, pushing out laboured breaths, with your jaw hanging open.

“Fuck, I can fix this- Damn- Shit, I just need… like… Fuck! Why’s this fucking lock so flimsy anyway?! And why the fuck didn’t you just open the door?!”

You ignore her rambling, “You broke my lock?”

“… Sorry.”

“Why are you here?”

She holds up a small stack of containers,

“You haven’t been opening the door so they sent me.”

“To break it open?”

“Hey, I said I was sorry, okay? I’ll fucking fix it… I just… need to check it out first…”

You sigh and let your head fall back against your pillow,

“Ellie, it’s almost midnight, and there’s a fucking blizzard outside. This couldn’t have waited till tomorrow?”

She walks towards where you’re laying and looks over you before setting the containers down on a nightstand.

“I know you haven’t eaten in days. People worry. Don’t be an asshole.”

“They’ll cope,” you grit out disdainfully, though it’s unwarranted, to which Ellie scoffs, seemingly losing her patience with your jarring change in character since she last saw you.

“You’re a fucking dick.”

“I’ll cope.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Ellie glances around the shadowy corners of your decrepit room.

“Damn.”

“What?”

“Feels like I’m in a coffin, you got a candle or some shit?”

“Uh, I think there’s one on the desk. But I’m going to sleep anyway.”

“Looks like you’ve been sleeping for days. Want me to neaten this place up for ya? You’re not allowed to say no, by the way.”

“How about ‘not really?”

“Oh, you getting smart with me?”

“Fuck off.”

“In a minute.” She trudges around the room, kneeling stiffly to retrieve discarded trash littering the floor with little strained puffs.

For some reason, you’re annoyed that you can’t get back to the silence. You’re annoyed that she interrupted your thoughts so violently. Now she’s cleaning, trying to crack open a window to let out the stale air and smacking it down as soon as a flurry of snowflakes enters, and you’re sitting there, watching her, unable to get back into your head.

A giggle itches at your throat but you swallow it, glancing over her and the way the tip of her nose is tinged pink from the cold.

Cute.

“How are you gonna get home?”

“Uhh… Fuck. I don’t know, just close my eyes and run fast as I can.”

“Are you serious?”

“I mean, yeah, not much else I can do.”

“…You know, you can stay if you want to. Just for the night.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about want to, but I might stick around just to check up on your ankle, you know, do you a favour.”

“Pssh. In that case, you’re more than welcome to leave, dude.”

“No, I'll stay, since you practically begged me.”

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.”

A few moments later, the room is brighter, clearer, fresher, and Ellie forced you to eat under her beady-eyed, scrutinizing gaze. You shift your leg, staring down at the swell beneath the bandage as Ellie stands awkwardly at the foot of your bed, having stripped off a few outer layers.

You look over at her, not really sure what to do other than gather all your willpower to not stare at the way her nipples poke through the fabric adorning her.

Fucking cold in here.

You rub your eyes furiously, as though you want to push them back into your skull, and throw yourself back onto your pillow.

"Jesus. You trynna go blind or something?" she chuckles, a rasp laced in her voice.

"Shhhh. I'm sleeping."

"Oh yeah? You asleep?" You can hear the smirk in her voice and the floorboards creaking beneath her step as she closed in on you. You crack open an eye to give her a bemused look, even though her words made your insides turn.

"Yes."

"Uh-huh, right."

"Right."

"So... You got a sleeping bag or some shit?"

"Nope."

"Blankets?"

"No."

"Wha- I- So are you expecting me to just huddle up on the couch when it's, like, minus a bajillion degrees outside?!"

"I don't know..." You open your eyes and think. It's genuinely cold. There's a blizzard so she can't get home. There's no blankets. You know you're going to regret what you're about to propose, but you spit it out before nerves restrain you.

“You cool with sleeping on the bed?”

She scratches her neck, a torn expression on her face.

"I mean... Isn't that... You know?"

“No, I don't know. Look, it's not weird, just don't think freezing to death seems like an attractive option. Just for the night.”

She scoffs, more so out of shock than mockery, “Okay.”

“Yeah, just a suggestion but if you’re uncomfortable with that then I’ll-”

“No… Why would I be…? Plenty of room for us to share the bed."

“Yeah.”

After a few minutes of awkward shuffling around, Ellie pulls the covers back and settles on the outermost edge of the bed, almost rolling right off, with her back turned to you.

You're not much better, laying close to the other side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a body stiff as a plank of wood

"You... uh, you okay over there?" she asks hesitantly

A quick,

"I’m okay, thank you," rushes past your lips as you try to settle your heart rate. It's this time of night that the thoughts start flooding in. You know there's no point in bothering to try to sleep.

The covers rustle beside you as Ellie, courageous as ever, turns to face you, eyes raking over your figure curiously.

"Good... Just checking," she says softly, quietly, words coming out soft as cotton. Then she turns to face the ceiling and silence blankets the room.

After a few hours, your eyes are bloodshot and fixated on the same crack in the wall that they had been for a while now. The glass is starting to overflow, and you don't know that you'll be able to hold back the tears even just for one night.

You can only hope Ellie's asleep when the restrained sound of your sniffles tears through the heavy silence every now and then. Your chest tightens when you hear Ellie start to make some soft grumbling noises, her eyebrows furrowing as she turns back over to face you.

"Hey," she says, her hand hovering over your shoulder,

"Let me see that ankle for a sec."

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan, hoping she can't make out the slight quiver in your voice, "Why? Why can’t we just sleep?"

"Just... wanna see how bad the swelling is," Ellie mumbles, sounding annoyed.

"I know your dumb ass wouldn't tell me if it was hurting.

You sit up shakily, the darkness casting a shadow over your glistening eyes, and lift your leg to your chest. Ellie reaches a hand out and gingerly runs it over the bandages, tugging them away and feeling the area for swelling.

"See? It’s fine."

She gazes up at you, her eyes lingering for a moment before she nods.

"Yeah, looks okay, I guess," she sighs.

"Can't be sure with you... But, fine, whatever, go to sleep."

You rest your head back against the pillow with a sigh and close your eyes.

However, sometime later in the night, you feel Ellie nudging your already awake figure.

"Hey."

She's speaking very quietly, but there's something urgent in her voice. You rub your stinging eyes, somehow annoyed at her for pulling you out of your thoughts.

"What?"

"I need to check your ankle again."

"No, it feels fine, go back to sleep."

Ellie stays silent for a second before letting out a long sigh.

"Yeah, well, I'm checking it anyways," she says.

"Just roll over."

From her tone, you can tell that Ellie isn't asking this time, so you do as she says and show her your wound, though her eyes are yet again focused on your face for a little longer.

"Okay... It looks fine. Again."

Ellie shakes her head for a moment before lying back down. She watches you shuffle around before muttering,

"Damn it."

"What?"

"I... You know what? I can't sleep, so talk to me."

"You were just sleeping th-"

“Yeah, well, it’s gone, so talk to me,” she hissed, to which you rolled your teary eyes, trying to gain a few crumbs of composure before speaking.

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Anything. I mean, I don’t know anything about you.”

“That’s cuz there’s nothing to know,” you mumble. You know that’s not the truth.

“… Just… Look, what’s your favourite colour?”

You raise an eyebrow skeptically,

“Favourite colour? Are you serious?”

“Yes! Just answer the question, asshole.”

“Fine. It’s purple. It’s the most colourful colour.”

“Purple… Huh, didn’t expect that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you just don’t… I don’t know, you don’t exactly seem into colourful stuff. Kinda expected you to say black or something.”

You snort indignantly, turning your head to meet her heavy, mesmerising eyes.

“Says you… I would never.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?! I’ll have you know that I, also, would never.”

An easy chuckle bubbles through you as you look up at the ceiling. Easy. Simple, all the things she said and the way the conversation slowly diffused into something more balanced, ridden of the initial obvious strain on Ellie’s part to get you to stop feeling whatever you were feeling when she saw your shoulders quiver in the moonlight.

Your head tilts to look at her for the first time after a while, skin dry of the tears that evaporated off your skin as you grinned, telling her the pun you claimed was better than hers and waiting for a response with a mind miraculously clear of the thoughts that polluted it up until a moment ago.

Ellie’s bottom lip is tugged between her teeth to hold back her own smile, though the creases beside her eyes give her away,

“Oh, was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Uh, yeah, it was. Don’t act like you didn’t find it funny! Not after how much you laughed at your shitty ones!”

She raised her eyebrows playfully, feigning a somber tone, “I don’t know, bu- OW! He- What the hell?!” as her face hit the pillow you launched at it. The sight of her face suddenly full of confusion draws a laugh from you - a real one. You hadn’t felt that familiar warmth for so long.

Caught up in the lightheartedness of the moment, you meet her gaze with a grin, holding up the pillow menacingly,

“Sorry, been wanting to do that for a while,”

Ellie grabs onto your wrists, a pure grin adorning her lips as she desperately attempts to fight your hands away from her through laughter and muttered “fuck”s. You give into her struggle with a groan and she pins the pillow and your hands back against the bed.

There’s a shift - both of you can feel it, neither of you expected it, as Ellie looms over you, loose auburn locks dangling close to your skin.

Your stomach turns. This is bad. This is wrong. This feels uncomfortably right.

Play it off, you tell yourself, unable to decipher the thought behind Ellie’s slightly furrowed brow, before you let out a laugh you hope sounded natural and playfully push her back onto the mattress.

Your heart is racing; you can feel the beat in your thighs which twitch every now and then, but you do a good job at hiding it, allowing the conversation to lull into that comforting silence like before, kindly putting you to sleep after hours of trying.

Those thoughts never stopped racing though, outrunning the thoughts of him…

a/n: boring ass chapter again, this is gonna be slow asf but it gets more eventful after this, i promise 😩 prolly some smut later too… creds to cafekitsune for dividers

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beautifulplaceofyouth · 5 days

Text

JJK FF/ROYAL GUARD

CHAPTER TEN | SERIES

Ch. 1

Ch. 2

Ch. 3

Ch. 4

Ch. 5

Ch. 6

Ch. 7

Ch. 8

Ch. 9

Ch. 10

When you keep bumping into your personal royal guard by accident not knowing he is your guardian angel

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook!fallen angel!royal guard! × fem!reader!virgin!princess

Word count: 2.1k

Rating: 15+

Genre + warnings: Fluff, paranormal romance, historical fanfiction, Kook being cold and mysterious, being his sexy self. Caring and possessive!jk! Really horny towards his princess, being a big seductive tease. Dead bodies - corpses and much blood. JK kills everyone who dares to hurt his princess. MAKES PROMISES TO BE SAFE. The story isn’t real, just my imagination running wild so just enjoy reading!

a/n: Finally a small update, guys! I will stop making excuses and will hope you will not kill me for vanishing like every time I promise coming back sooner but still...yeah. I hope you forgive me.

You were standing by the large window.

The castle’s walls seemed to surround you.

The windows let out on a long stretch of fields leading to the border of the woods.

Since your fallen angel left, it has been three hours since Jungkook disappeared. Three more hours without food; three hours without hearing news or seeing anyone besides the servants running around like little heads in a tornado.

It made you restless.

Your legs started moving before your mind did. The white dress was fluttering behind you while you walked through the corridor.

It’s been three hours.

Three more hours and no updates. Your thoughts were racing and your stomach was growling. But there was nothing you could do, nothing you can say, until Jungkook returns.

As you turned the corner into the hall where the servants and guards resided, you stopped suddenly. Something was wrong.

You frowned.

As you neared the palace exit, a witch-maid stopped you before you can leave further.

“I’m sorry, my queen but the king didn’t allowed you to leave the castle for safety reasons. We still are under attack,” the female servant said apologetically. “Please return to your chambers.”

She tried to take your hands, which you quickly pushed away.

What were they thinking?

That Jungkook would come back in less than ten minutes?

No. Jungkook wouldn’t. Not now.

He is probably dead. Killed by vampires, maybe. Maybe captured in battle and taken prisoner. What if he got hurt?

No. He’d never let a vampire touch him unless…unless…

You ran outside and searched in every part of the grounds. No sign of him anywhere.

Then why the hell haven’t you heard anything yet?!

‘I’m not letting any vampire near my guard,’ you thought fiercely. ‘And if they do get near my angel, I swear to God...’

Looking up, the sun is barely visible. A thin veil of clouds covering half the sky, dark grey.

There was no sign of any vampire in sight.

Where the heck is everyone if there is attack?!

Tears welled in your eyes as you sat down on the ground and leaned your back against the stone wall of the castle’s exterior. There was a small pond a few meters to your side, a beautiful blue lake reflecting the sky above it. The moon was hidden behind the clouds, casting an eery orange light over everything in the vicinity.

Your heart was beating fast, threatening to burst through your ribcage. Tears stinging your eyelids, you felt your cheeks getting wet.

You wiped your tears off angrily. You are being foolish.

Jungkook wouldn't be dead. He can fight for himself but he knows how much you love him and if something happened to him…

Oh god, please don't let something happen to him. He’s strong but he's too young to die. Please God, let him be okay. Let him survive.

Jungkook’s POV

The sun was setting when Jungkook flew over the woods of his territory with his sword in hand, prepared to defend his home.

As he descended closer, he noticed many vampires fighting against the guards on the other end of the forest clearing.

With the sharp edge of his sword ready to strike, he landed heavily between several vampires, sending them flying to different parts of the field.

His presence was enough to scare most of them away, leaving two vampires with their backs turned towards him who weren’t afraid of him whatsoever.

Without hesitation Jungkook lunged forward with his sword and stabbed one of the vampires in the back with all his force.

His opponent fell, unconscious and bleeding, but still alive.

Jungkook ignored him as he jumped to the other vampire, slashing his blade across his throat before landing behind the first one again to stab him in the back.

Two vampires had surrounded Jungkook.

One with blonde hair, the other with red. They charged at him simultaneously.

Jungkook dodged each of them with ease.

Suddenly, the blood lust filled air vanished.

A cold, piercing sound echoed through the forest.

In a matter of seconds, the second vampire was dead. His eyes staring wide open as if asking for help and pain. The red head also fell lifelessly onto the ground.

Blood flowing from his neck, he didn’t have a chance to scream.

Slicing remaining vampires in half, the blood was the only thing left on him when he finally finished. Seeing his guards dead, he could only watch them fall and the bodies turn pale and gray, their skin wrinkling and turning into dust.

The other vampires that were still around looked at him with horror and shock.

They wanted to run. They wanted to kill him.

But they couldn’t move, not a single muscle in their bodies dared to move; not even their hearts.

“You’ve been warned,” he snarled,” Attack what’s mine again, you will be taken as my trophies for all eternity."

The vampires began fleeing after that, screaming in fear and terror.

Jungkook took out the swords he used in the fight, sheathing them neatly once again, before turning to look around.

Death’s scent was everywhere. Blood was smeared everywhere, along with some pieces of flesh scattered throughout the area.

The bodies of his guards lay sprawled all over the ground. Their faces twisted and bloody, covered in dirt.

Jungkook closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath.

Now since the danger was gone, the only thought on his mind was you.

When he opened his eyes, he could already see you.

You were walking out of the forest, your face pale and frightened.

He didn’t need to look at you to know that the blood from these deaths must have affected you greatly. As if sensing him, your eyes met his, a look of complete devastation and sorrow filling their depths.

“Jungkook,” you whispered in fear, looking around the field as though searching for enemy still lurking by but there was no one left alive except for the king himself.

His jaw clenched when he spotted you, knowing you have disobeyed his order for you to stay at the castle. His guards haven’t stopped you from leaving and now you’re here, in the middle of the battlefield which is no place for someone like you.

Looking like an angel in a white dress, Jungkook looked ready to kill again when you slowly approached him.

The wind was playing with his raven hair, dancing through his bangs and causing small droplets of sweat to roll down his body.

He looked like a predator waiting for its prey to come close and bite it.

Your gaze flickered between the corpses laid on the ground, their eyes frozen in fear and pain.

Y/n POV

Seeing your angel in the middle of that made you realize how strong he really is.

The blood was on his armor and even his face scarf. His eyes were the only thing holding you steady as you dared to walk forward.

His chest was rising up and down.

“What are you doing here, princess?” he asked harshly, making your body shiver.

You looked down at the ground, ashamed of yourself.

Why were you so careless? You shouldn’t be here! It’s dangerous. Too dangerous to be out here alone!

How long have you been standing here? Did you hear the screams of vampires earlier? Did you hear them running away?

Did you hear them dying? Did you understand what was happening?

Your hands trembled as you looked at the bodies laying on the floor; lifeless.

“Answer me.”

He didn’t wait for a response, he grabbed your chin roughly, forcing your eyes to meet his.

“Princess. Why are you here? Answer me.”

You didn’t answer right away. Your heart thumping painfully inside your chest.

After a moment, you answered in a weak voice, “I just wanted to go for a little walk. I lost track of time and ended up here.”

His grip on your chin tightened and his lips curved in anger.

“You’re such a liar, love.”

Before you know, he kneels in front of you. Putting his sword on the ground, he takes your hands in his.

“You shouldn’t be here. What you did was dangerous. How can I protect you when you don’t listen to me? You would have been captured on the way here, possibly killed by those bloodsucking monsters!”

“I’m sorry Jungkook. But I just wanted to make sure no one hurt you. I know you can defend yourself just fine but…”

“It doesn’t stop you from worrying. And I appreciate it very much, but you don’t have to do this. I am stronger than these creatures.”

“But you don’t always have to be. You’ll get attacked by them sooner or later, you know. You won't be able to take them down with a sword on your own. Sooner or later, they'll find you.”

“No they won’t. This forest is protected by powerful magic. My kingdom is safe as long I’m here.” He explained, trying to reassure you.

“But not enough to attack this place?” You inquired quietly.

“Someone tipped me off. That’s why they got inside. No one without my magic permission can go through the barrier of this land. Its separates the human world.”

“So they can still be out there and continue to attack,” you said bitterly.

“That’s why I must kill them all.” Jungkook declared, determination in his voice.

Tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to escape and fall down your cheeks at any moment.

You quickly wiped away any evidence of your weakness before looking into his eyes with a determined look of your own.

Before you can chicken out, you step closer to him when he is back to standing position. His eyes darken when he notices the movement, his nostrils flaring when your scent washes over with the death smell all over the field.

It was like a flower has bloomed in the middle of the grave, filling his whole being with the sweet fragrance of your happiness and life.

You stood on your tiptoes while he stood on his, looking at him intently in the eyes.

His gaze never wavers. Neither does yours.

Neither of you breaks eye contact until finally you pull him towards you, hooking one finger underneath his mask, playing with the seam of the fabric slowly.

“What are you doing, darling?” His voice is husky, full of desire for you even it was wrong in that moment.

How can you touch him like this after he has slaughtered every vampire? He had blood on his hands and corpses still laid all around you so how come you’re not afraid to touch him?

“Making sure you’re not hurt,” you whisper, lifting his mask to reveal a strong jawline who can cut steel and lips that look tempting yet deadly.

He stares back at you, the intensity in his eyes making you want to drown in his eyes forever. He grabs your waist, pulling you against him tightly, his hand caressing your lower back, the heat of his palm seeping through the thin cloth of your dress.

“You’re making this harder for me, princess. You can’t stay here longer. It’s dangerous,” he says softly, leaning closer to you, his hot breath fanning your cold skin as he whispers.

"I don’t care.” You say, closing the gap between your lips and pressing them softly onto his.

At first, he tried to push you away.

But the minute you parted your lips to deepen the kiss, he gave up.

As your tongue ran along his bottom lip, tasting each other, you wrapped your arms around his neck while he gripped both sides of your waist.

He lifted you easily in his arm and you placed your legs around his hips, holding on tightly when you felt yourself getting dizzy and lightheaded.

Lifting up into the sky, you almost scream when you realize that he has intended to fly you back to the castle. His wings even through the mist shine with the specks of light that peeked from the clouds.

Not daring to look down because of your fear of heights, some minutes later you brace yourself for landing when he flaps his wings to stop his speed abruptly, causing you to cling onto him like a koala.

When he puts you down gently on your feet, you let out a soft sigh of relief.

Jungkook pulled you in his arms, cradling you close and soothing you as best he could.

“I’m sorry, baby. Didn’t want to startle you like that. I just can’t imagine you walking through that mess. It must have been terrifying.” He whispered tenderly, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You leaned into his touch, melting at the sound of his deep, rumbling voice calling you baby in that loving way of his, feeling warmth blossom inside your chest.

Feeling safe. Protected.

“You need to stay indoors while I go back to finish the job. Someone still can be lurking in the shadows and watching us so we have to take precautions,” he says sternly, grabbing the hilt of his sword and taking a few steps backward as he looked behind him.

“Come back to me safe, please.” You pleaded.

He sighed as he turned around, walking towards you again.

He reached out to caress your cheek once more before giving you a soft smile.

“I promise you.”

You nodded as he took off with a flap of his wings. The air surrounding him seemed to shimmer with an ethereal glow, the wind caressing his skin like a lover as his figure disappears among the thick mist in the distance.

p.s. All images and gifs are not mine, some of the edits are mine edited but not every picture. All the credit goes to their rightful owners

DO NOT REPOST THIS WORK AS YOUR OWN BECAUSE THIS IS THE ORIGINAL OWNER’S STORY

If you like, please reblog or like the post so I can post the next chapters :)

#bts #jungkook #jeon jungkook #royal guard #virgin princess #Princess Royal #fallen angel #paranormal romance #bangtan boys #jungkook fanfic #bts fanfction #historical romantic fiction #bts fluff

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highdefhoetry · 2 months

Text

Behind the Blindfold, ch. 5 [Gojo Satoru x reader]

tags: NSFW!!! female reader, penetration (penis in vagina), unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, tickle kink, creampie, overstimulation, forced orgasms, multiple orgasms, size kink, size difference

summary: you fuck gojo satoru after he finally comes back from an important mission. less plot, more porn

word count: ~3,418

read part 1 here! read part 2 here! read part 3 here! read part 4 here!

read on ao3 here!

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since you’d last seen Gojo. Two weeks since you had run your fingers through his fine, white hair. Two weeks since your lips had marked his skin as yours. Two weeks since he’d been deep inside you, thrusting rhythmically until you cried out in octaves of pleasure. Two long, boring, lonely weeks.

There was only so much time left in your Tokyo assignment. You were set to return to your home country in just a few short days. Gojo, having been sent to Kyoto for some kind of obscure business he refused to disclose, had bid you farewell after the last steamy night you’d spent together.

“When will you be back?” you asked casually with bed sheets draped over your nude body. You kept your tone light and neutral, cleverly disguising your anxiety.

“Who knows…” he mused with a casual shrug, letting the door close behind him.

You haven’t heard from him since. And you hadn’t expected to. Gojo was a busy man.

But you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss him. You missed the way his big, strong hands roamed your body, how gently they caressed your sensitive skin with his rough and calloused palms. You yearned for the taste of his sweet, pink lips and the trails of kisses he left down your spine, across your shoulders, on the back of your hands. You longed to hear that deep, smooth voice calling out your name in the dark, whispering sweet somethings in your ear, praising your tightness and how good it felt to be inside you and how amazing you were for taking it all.

And those eyes. Those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

What were you going to do without him?

When the elders had assigned Gojo as your partner, you’d wanted nothing more than to get as far away from him as possible as quickly as possible. Now, the idea of being apart tore your heart in half. The grim reality of being all the way across the world for the foreseeable future was starting to sink in. A stark contrast from the beginning. Despite your best efforts, you’d fallen for him. And now you were cursed to live with these feelings forever.

The days dragged on. You made your peace with things, accepted that you may never see or speak to him again.

You’d be okay.

You always were.

---------------------------------------

The night before your flight home, you hear a knock on the door and rouse yourself from a deep slumber to answer it. It was late. You had been comfortably dozing in bed, so you were less than pleased when you had to get up to greet this unwelcome visitor. Scowling, you head to the living room and peek through the peephole.

It’s him.

In the flesh.

Staring back at you through the peephole, knowing you were looking for him on the other side.

You yank the door open and stare up at the giant sorcerer, who gazes down at you affectionately with a little smirk. Hands in his pockets and shoulder leaning against the door, he greets you in a familiar velvety baritone that melts you where you stand.

“Yo. Miss me?”

You stare at him for several long seconds, drinking up the sight of Gojo Satoru. His impossibly long legs. His annoyingly arrogant smirk. The way he’s leaning over you, slightly hunched, staring down at you with a hint of mischief in his eyes. His clean, masculine smell, a mix of designer cologne and fresh scent laundry detergent.

You grab him by the collar and yank him inside, pressing your lips against his before he can utter another word.

Your hands cup his beautiful face, cradling it as you kiss him again and again. You part your lips and invite his tongue inside to dance with yours. He returns the gesture and places his hands on the small of your back to pull you in close. After some time you throw your arms around his neck and embrace him tightly. You can’t seem to get close enough to feel satisfied.

When you finally pull away, you feel dizzy and lightheaded. You’re not sure how much time passed while you were kissing. It could have been forever. It could have been a second. The two of you are locked in an intense gaze, as if daring the other to speak.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he grins, breaking the silence to steal another kiss.

Your fingers reach up and lace themselves in his hair, grabbing and pulling every so lightly. A fluttered moan escapes his lips; he does the same, taking in a fistful of your locks and tugging firmly yet gently. Your head arches back, giving him access to the tender skin on your neck. His lips drift down your jaw and pepper kisses over your neck, eliciting breathy gasps and tittered moans from your parted lips. He buries his face there; you sink your nails into his shoulders.

“Satoru…” his name slips off your tongue. You’ve missed this, how it felt to cry out for him. He chuckles and leans forward, burying his face in your neck.

“Mmm, you smell so good…” his voice ghosts over your skin, sending chills down your spine. He picks you up in one smooth motion, cupping your ass cheeks in both of his large hands as he carries you to the bed. He tosses you down on the soft mattress before climbing on top, showering your face with another flurry of kisses.

You wrap your legs around his waist tightly, anchoring him to your body. You weren’t planning on letting him go again anytime soon. He can see it in your eyes; he grins down at you, famished and ready to make up for lost time.

“I didn’t think you’d be back in time…” you whisper before he presses his lips against yours once more.

“I’ll always come back for you, baby.”

The palms of his hands trail down your sides. His fingertips gently press into your skin, causing you to gasp from the feather-light sensation. He grabs the waistband of your panties and drags them down your thighs, tossing your body around as he yanks them from your ankles. Then he practically rips your top off, savagely tearing apart the buttons to access your bare chest. He groans softly when he sees your erect nipples and tweaks them with his thumbs. You let out a small cry as he cups your breasts in both hands, stroking them gently.

“I can’t take it anymore…” he grunts. His tongue circles your nipple while his hands stroke the tender undersides of your breasts, making you feel ticklish. It’s turning you on, but the sensation is still overwhelming. Going weeks without human touch has certainly made you more sensitive.

“Ahh, Satoru…!” you barely have it in you to beg. You’re ready to let him do whatever he wants to you, for as long as he wants.

“That’s right,” he pauses his worship of you for a moment. “Say my name.”

“Satoru…”

“Say it again. Louder.”

“Satoru!!”

A deep chuckle falls from his lips. When you look up at him again, you see a familiar ferocity in his eyes. One that’s only present when he battles, and when he fucks you . His hands wrap themselves around your ribcage, and you know what’s coming next. Your pussy is already throbbing from the anticipation.

“Wait, don’t-”

“Too late,” he squeezes your waist, causing you to squeal and arch your back. You grab his wrists, trying to push him off, but he’s got an iron grip on you, and the way he’s tickling you is making you weak. It’s intense; you had forgotten how evil he could be when it came to torturing you this way.

He leans forward and chuckles in your ear. His breath tickles your neck, making you squirm and giggle even more.

“I’ve missed your laugh,” he coos, still not letting up on his tickle attack. His fingers ghost your sides, sliding down to your hips where he gropes them with a bit more pressure. “And I’ve missed watching you squirm like this.”

Out of breath and a bit hoarse, you whisper a half-hearted “fuck you”, prompting him to laugh. He responds by kissing your breasts once more, then letting his lips trail down your waist. He lingers at your stomach, drinking in your soft giggles and quiet moans as he kisses your belly button, the creases of your thighs, the edges of your hips. After teasing you there for a while, he finally plants his pretty face in between your thighs. Where it belongs. When his mouth presses against your warm mound, you moan so loud the neighbors have to have heard. His skilled tongue twirls around your clit, licking it in just the right way. The weeks and months you’d spent fucking each other had strengthened his intimate knowledge of your body. Truly, nobody could fuck you as good as he could.

The licking of your clit, the kisses he gives to your second pair of lips, the slight teasing of his finger around your hole is almost too much to bear. He’s teasing you, keeping you on the edge so you don’t come too quickly. You buck your hips upwards, letting him know you want more. But it goes ignored. Gojo Satoru is taking his time. Even when you grasp his hair and pull his face back down, he simply continues his soft torment. You start to whine when he pulls away, earning another amused chuckle in response.

“Aww, what’s wrong?” he smiles, wiping a few beads of sweat off your forehead. “You look frustrated.”

“You’re teasing me!” you cry out with furrowed brows.

“Mmm, am I?” he drags his fingers down your thighs, then smiles wider when you flinch from his touch. “I thought you liked it when I was gentle?”

You feel his hand slip into your hole, just one finger at first, then two. The other hand continues to stroke your thigh. The sensation of his long finger inside of you causes you to roll back your head and moan in pleasure. He pumps it in and out slowly, his speed decreasing with every thrust. You wait for him to curl his finger upwards, stimulating that spongy spot inside your walls, but it never comes. He simply goes in and out, in and out, occasionally drifting across it, but never touching it directly. It’s driving you insane.

“Satoru!” your cries have become more frustrated, more desperate. “Please…!”

“Oh, is the big, tough sorcerer girl begging now?” he smiles cheekily, speaking to you in a sing-songy voice.

“I want to cum,” you whine, feeling your lower lip tremble. God, you couldn’t take it anymore, you were sure you’d go mad if he didn’t…

“Alright, alright,” he assures you, picking up his speed as he shoves another finger inside you. “You’re lucky you’re so cute…”

He gives you what you ask for. A mind-shattering orgasm that makes you squirt all over his hand, wetting it with your juices. He pulls out his hand and licks his fingers, as he always did after fingerfucking you. All while gazing down at you with those beautiful blue eyes of his, full of affection and something else a bit more sinister.

“Fuck, you taste good…” he muses while admiring your sweaty, naked form. You close your eyes and take a moment to catch your breath, but suddenly you feel his fingers enter you again, curling slightly on that same spot.

“Sato-” you start to call out for him, your confused tone melting into one of shocked pleasure. In a few short seconds, you’re cumming again, this time even harder than before. The orgasm ripples through your body, sending waves of pleasure over every nerve ending. Your cries increase in pitch and volume, music to his ears. He simply smiles down at you, enjoying the show his hands have created.

“There you go. Just like that.”

You wait for him to pull his fingers out again, but he never does. Your widened eyes stare up at him, imploring him for mercy.

“Satoru, wait, give me a second…!”

“Hmm? But I thought you wanted to come?” He sneaks his arm underneath you, pulling you in close, giving him further access. “I’m simply complying with your demands.”

With him holding you like this, your movement is restricted and you can’t do much besides writhe around in his arms. His face is so close, you can feel his breath on your cheeks and the warmth of his skin pressed against yours. His fingers are still pumping inside you, and they coax out orgasm after orgasm until you feel like you’re going to pass out. He doesn’t stop until you nearly do. You lose count of how many times you’ve cum, how much you’ve squirted on his hand, how often he’s smirked at you while turning you into a complete mess.

And he’s still not finished.

He pulls away for a moment to strip, peeling off the layers of clothing under his uniform while you take in large gulps of air, recovering from the electrifying orgasms he’s given you. When you see his cock swing out after he pulls his pants down, you push yourself up to take it in your mouth. Oh, how you had dreamt about sucking his dick. His perfectly huge, girthy dick. He’s already hard, but when you take it in your mouth, you hear his airy moans and feel it throb and stiffen against your tongue. You decide to pay him back for his earlier teasing, focusing your tongue and lips on the tip of his dick. Pre-cum drips into your mouth as you kiss, lick and suck at his reddening cock. He grabs your head and tries to shove your face further onto his shaft, but you resist. You take his entire cock in your mouth, but only once, and only for a second, before pulling it out and caressing the tip once more. His grunts and groans become increasingly frustrated, and for a moment, you feel vindicated.

But you can’t wait any longer. You need to taste his load, and you need to taste it now . You grab hold of his shaft and take him in your mouth completely, letting the tip hit the back of your throat to the point where you almost gag. You manage to hold it together; you want to swallow it all, claim it as yours. It doesn’t take long for it to happen. He explodes inside you after a few more strokes, and you swallow all of the cum that leaks from his tip until he goes flaccid. His grip on your hair loosens, and you feel him running his fingers through your hair. His eyes flutter open; he cups your cheeks and strokes them with his thumbs.

“Fuck…” is all he can muster.

While he recovers, he leans forward to kiss you again. First on your lips, then your cheeks, then your neck. He purposely flutters his lips across your ears and neck, knowing that it’ll make you squirm. He laughs with you, relishing in the numerous ways he can elicit sounds and reactions from you. He kisses down your shoulders, arms, and hands. He caresses your waist and hips with the gentlest touch. He presses his lips against your thighs, shins, and feet, leaving no part of your body untouched. By the time he’s kissed every inch of your skin, he’s hard again, and ready to come inside you.

That was the great thing about Gojo. His endurance was truly legendary.

You’re soaking wet when he sticks it in, from the countless orgasms and the soft worship. You cry out, even though it’s only the tip, and wail a little louder when he slowly pushes in his cock. He moans in falsetto, making a sound so sweet that it makes you clench your walls even tighter against his cock.

“Fuck,” he says through his clenched jaw. “You’re so fucking tight…”

You wrap your thighs around his waist again, trapping him in place. You had waited too long for this feeling. You weren’t going to let him escape. He thrusts into you like rapid fire, the only sounds you can hear are the slapping of skin and your high-pitched moans sung in unison. He unwraps your legs and takes hold of your ankles, then rests them on his shoulders while gazing down at you. His eyes never leave yours; his sweat drips on your skin and mixes with your own. His cock pumps into you once, twice, a third time, and then… another warm eruption fills you. The two of you are panting heavily and soaked with sweat and cum. He gently lowers your legs, feeling them up as you shiver from his touch. Your body is hypersensitive right now. Every little touch sends shockwaves through your skin. He collapses beside you, a bit winded but not as out of breath as you would expect. Meanwhile, you’re gasping for air and waiting for the stars in your vision to subside.

“You really did miss me, didn’t you?”

He nudges you, and you roll your eyes in response. Reality is starting to dawn on you again. This was the last time you’d ever get to be with him in this way. You sigh and try to force the pit in your stomach to go away.

When he sees the downtrodden expression on your face, his face softens and his tone grows gentle.

“Hey, don’t look so down,” he comforts you, stroking a finger across your cheek.

“This is the last time I’m going to see you, isn’t it?” You look away, trying to hide whatever sadness he sees in your eyes.

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“I’m going back home tomorrow,” the tremor in your voice breaks through, giving you away. “And then I’ll never see you again.”

Gojo Satoru falls silent, for once. He takes a moment to ponder, tapping a finger on his chin as if deep in thought. Then, he suddenly snaps his fingers and looks at you with a smile.

“Oh, yeah. About that,” he speaks in a casual tone. “You’ll actually be staying here indefinitely.”

Your head perks up after you process what he’s said.

“...What?”

“Ah, apparently somebody made the request some time ago,” he says, rubbing his finger under his nose. “It seems that your services are still needed.”

“What… who…?”

He shrugs. “No idea. But you know how this goes. We can’t act against the precious elders’ wishes.”

You furrow your brows and gawk at him, at first in disbelief, and then with a realized giddiness you couldn’t hide no matter how you tried to force it back. You feel your lips curl up in a smile and can’t stop yourself from latching onto his arm.

“You…!”

“Me?” he grins.

You crawl forward, your breasts pressing against his chest, and plant a kiss on his lips. When you pull away, he’s looking at you expectantly, lips curled in a smirk, eyes wide and playful.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?! I was so depressed, I really thought this was the last time…”

“Weeeell, you wouldn’t have fucked me so passionately if you didn’t think this was the last time, no?”

You shove him playfully while he laughs at your expense.

“You jerk! You insufferable, annoying, thick-headed jerk! ”

“Such awful traits, and yet you couldn’t help but fall madly in love with me.”

You scoff and roll your eyes again. “And what about you? You fell so hard for a stubborn, hot-headed, stick in the mud like me that you begged the elders to let me stay.”

“Is that right?”

You nod, grinning victoriously. He shakes his head with a laugh.

“You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

He gazes at you for a moment, as if taking in your features for the first time. Then, slowly, he leans over and kisses you.

“So, now what? Are you finally going to accept those soft and tender emotions of yours and let me in?”

“Now…?” you speak softly, letting your words dance over the fluffy pillows you’re laying on. He waits for your answer, holding his breath.

“Now… you’re mine. And I…” you pause for dramatic effect. “...am yours.”

Gojo Satoru smiles wide, taking you in his arms and holding you tightly in his embrace. A place you’ve always belonged, and always will.

#jjk smut #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru #minors dni #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you

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ttalgi · 9 months

Text

aperture [ ◉¯] ✧˖° masterlist

scaramouche x f!reader smau

synopsis: inazuma entertainment's number 1 model seemingly dissappears after a family scandal and isn't really seen for months...until a tweet picturing him goes viral

otherwise known as how [name] tries to make amends with scara for putting him in the spotlight again

genres/content warning: social media au, college au, enemies to lovers, lowercase writing, angst, fluff, cursing, alcohol/drinking, substance abuse (far in the future chs...is this a spoiler?), mentions of death (like kys/kms in joking manners), delulu behavior, etc (I'll update as I write)

status: on-going! slow updates

notes:

this started out as a 3am thought that i made a mini post about, which turned into this!

light mode -> [name] & dark mode -> scara

im trying to show the dates/time in the smau chronologically, but sometimes it might leave my mind 🤷🏻‍♀️

divider by @cafekitsune !

chapters

teaser

name's group ● scara's group

film roll

exposure 1 - party of the century

exposure 2 - NOT the bathroom

exposure 3 - WHERE'S [NAME]?! ☆ wc: 0.3k

exposure 4 - the aftermath

exposure 5 - [NAME] WAKE UP PLS

exposure 6 - what's a scarymoose?

exposure 7 - this imbecile

exposure 8 - the first day

exposure 9 - liars all around

exposure 10 - he's smart too?!

exposure 11 -

taglist: OPEN! send an ask or comment to be added! @k1an4a @veekoko @raewrz @evsolostheuniverse @feiherp @meigalaxy @bananasquash @barbatosfavouritenun @featuredtofu @tartagliascumdumpp @freshlaundry @beriiov @itzblazekun @lyzisbitchingagain @nnasv @vanishes-into-gold @seternic @cieluna @fangygf @xtobefreex @miyahearts @eternal-dokja @swivy123 @scaranthropy @kukikoooo @17visage @simpaghettits @kaitfae @miyen01 @capcryooo @kunikuzushis-darling @ainnofinway @b2ne @chemiru @l0vely-her @vxcmx @tamikahoshiko

#aperture [ ◉¯] ✧˖°#genshin impact smau #genshin smau #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche smau #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x you #genshin imagine #genshin x reader #genshin fic #genshin impact x reader #ttalgi writes #this turned into a real smau but the question is will i be able to keep up with it...#hopefully

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naomihatake · 6 months

Text

In search of freedom (Ch. 5)

5. I've found heaven in hell

⠀⠀➺ fic masterlist

⠀⠀➺ Chapter 4 ; Chapter 5 ; Chapter 6

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa

Warnings for this chapter: alcohol, angst, arguing, tension, tarot readings

Word count: 7,9 k

Theme song: fic spotify playlist (click on the link)

A/N: I genuinely hope this chapter is as good as I wanted it to be, but I'm not so sure about it. I tried my best, but I'm certainly proud of the last scene of this chapter. Yes, we finally got to Baratie and Zoro's fight with Mihawk. I'd be very happy to hear your opinions, so let me know what you think <33 Not proofread yet.

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

One card fell from her tarot deck from the moment when she started shuffling it: Death.

Nope, she immediately thought to herself.

The witch let out a theatrical sigh and let the cards back in their place, half of her mind completely ignoring the meaning.

No way I'm occupying my mind with such trouble now of all times. I couldn't even sleep last night.

She could think about that later, after she gets a few hours of peace. They were lucky enough to escape from the Marines just a while ago. The answer she received after she came back to her room at the first hours in the morning — when she had just finished her night shift — was ambiguous enough. All she wanted was to breathe some fresh air.

The witch got up from the bed and was ready to leave the girls' room while pulling a large shirt over the tight tank top hugging her curves, leaving it unbuttoned. The hot weather made her choose some shorts in favor of the usually large pants she preferred. The low heels of her boots created a strong sound with each step on the Going Merry's floor.

"I still can't believe Luffy was the one to get us at this floating restaurant in the middle of the sea using his nose only," she chuckled at the navigator.

Nami was glancing one last time into a small rounded mirror she held between her fingers before closing it and shoving it into a bag.

"Add food to the equation and he could take over my role."

"Well, well, that's quite exaggerated. He might have an affinity for sniffling foods, but you can feel a thunderstorm. That's a big difference," the witch winked.

"You're flattering me," Nami grinned.

The witch opened the door of their room and they were instantly greeted with the rays of the sun. She squinted her eyes and walked on the deck with two knives and a gun sitting at her hips. Luffy was already on the dock of the restaurant created in the form of fish with an open mouth. Baratie was written in red neon lights on top of the suspended balcony of the restaurant.

"Do you think there are marines here?" Usopp asked as he leaned against the railing of The Going Merry.

"There are skulls on the flags of other ships. If marines are here, they're probably not for business. I wouldn't start yelling about it in the middle of a place filled with pirates," the witch commented.

Any other words died on top of her tongue when her eyes fell on the swordsman who just left the galley. Maybe the witch should've been more careful while staring so insistently, but gosh, wasn't he always a sight? The dark bluet-shirt clinging onto his chest for dear life, accentuating the muscle lines and — god fucking dammit — the jeans squeezing his legs made her gulp. The signature swords were secured against his left hip.

She averted her eyes before she could get caught ogling at the crewmate she grew fond of. It was a pleasure to blame it on the doses of alcohol in her veins, but it wasn't the case that time. She was wide awake and sober, so the nature of her thoughts was worrisome, to say the least.

She was still dealing with the possibility of feelings. A concerning topic for an inexperienced person in the domain of romance.

Another trouble she didn't want to think of. Maybe Zoro isn't that wrong for drinking with every occasion he gets.

What made it worse was the lack of attention he gave her, as if she was just a ghost.

Maybe she was overthinking it.

Truth be told, she wasn't exactly wrong. Zoro did intentionally look away so he could save himself from embarrassment. He turned away before he swallowed the lump in his throat, his fingers curling tighter around the hilt of his sword. He must've gotten insane to start avoiding people.

"Let's go! I feel like I could die from hunger," Luffy jumped from the ship straight on the dock.

The witch found the right thing to focus on: the restaurant looked amazing. Not only did it smell so divine her stomach learnt how to talk, but it was also splendid. For a second, the witch wondered if that was a place for pirates and not for some rich business people — they could certainly be found there. Dozens of tables and the constant chattering of people, waiters and waitresses walking around and rushing from one side to the other — it was so lively.

The fishman greeting the people coming in smiled warmly at them, even if a little strained — a habit he got from his job.

"You mean there's no free table for our captain, the soon to become King of the Pirates?" Usopp smiled proudly, pointing at Luffy.

She found it hard not to laugh or chuckle at the interaction between Luffy and the poor fishman who said twice already that there will be an available table in three weeks. When the witch saw Nami shove her hand in her pockets, it was obvious what tactic she'd use. Obviously, it worked, even if Luffy and Usopp were cheering, walking down the stairs ahead of them.

The witch looked around, wary of any possible threats or drunk people who would get mad about the smallest thing, like the way they looked. Everyone seemed so caught up in their own thing and it eased her mind, some anxiety leaving once her shoulders fell.

However, there were certain gazes following her silhouette. It was probably because of each confident step she made, the elegance she carried, the force she proved to have with every sharp glance she threw around. Her fingers twitched to grab a hold of her dagger. She figured out there were no imminent threats yet.

At the table, she found herself between Zoro and Nami. She was conscious the moment she intentionally sat a tad bit closer to the swordsman who comfortably spread his legs after he tried to fit his swords. Sometimes, when she'd shift in her seat, his knee would brush by hers and goosebumps would erupt on her skin. She allowed herself to enjoy the proximity, the way her gaze would linger on his figure when he talked, the low timbre of his voice soothing her soul.

She had to get used to that idea.

It ached. Her heart would thump painfully in between her ribs each time it felt like he was ignoring her. He didn't say much to her since morning and something inside of her was bleeding, despite the lack of crimson liquid tainting her clothes.

The witch hated him for every cold glance thrown her away or, worse, each time he didn't even look at her when she spoke. To protect herself, her lips got sealed for a long while.

Her attention was piqued by the fight between two marines who seemed unable to swallow up their pride, threatening each other with death, while a beautiful lady sat at the table, looking at them with fear visible on her expression.

The roll of her eyes and the exasperated exhale she let out spoke for her as the witch rested her elbows on the table and held her face with a hand.

"Do people always act like that over stupid things?" Usopp frowned.

"They act worse," the witch scoffed, amused. "The average pirates aren't any better either, you know."

"Bold of you to say that when you're a pirate yourself," Nami shook her head.

"I've never claimed I'm a lady, so," she shrugged.

A waiter with blonde hair dressed in a clean black suit appeared by the men's table. There was a specific customer-friendly smile plastered on his face while he tried to calm the waters.

One of the two men pulled his pistol out just to have his arm being hit by the waiter's feet. In a few seconds only, the other man received the same treatment, getting a strong blow right in the stomach. The blonde waiter rolled on his feet and right after his feet collided with the man's face, he prompted his hands on the table to pin the other pink-haired marine to the floor with a kick in the crown of his head.

"Good fighter," Luffy pointed out with excitement bouncing in his tone.

As if nothing ever happened, the man's fingers grabbed at the plate he abandoned on the table and smiled again.

"No cause for alarm, folks. Please enjoy your meals."

A normal occurrence, most probably.

The waiter came to their table with a few long steps. From up close, his handsome features washed away the obvious forced smile plastered on his thin lips.

"Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambiance is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?"

His voice was tinted with harshness and he was definitely in a bad mood, visible despite the professionalism he tried to stick to.

Luffy grabbed one of the small loaves of breasla on the plate the waiter just placed down in front of them.

"One of everything, please," their captain spoke with his mouth stuffed.

"What's wrong with the ambiance?" the witch asked, confused. "Not to flatter, but this place is splendid."

Something in that man's head misunderstood it as you're splendid, apparently, since his eyes shone like crystals when they settled on the witch's figure.

Maybe her mouth spoke before she had time to think it over. Bad decision.

"It became splendid the moment you walked in, perhaps," he smiled effortlessly, his voice dropping an octave.

Wait… what?

"Thank you?" she blinked owlishly.

It sounded more like a question. Not the first compliment she received and she also had to admit that most of the men who flirted with her were absolutely gross. This one was decent, even polite — hell, someone could've taken courtesy lessons from him.

The energy shifted. Or, better said, the man next to her shifted. Zoro just crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Sanji with a glare meant to send daggers through his face. The waiter didn't even bother to look at Zoro.

"Is there anything I could bring for these two beautiful ladies?" his smile widened visibly once he spotted Nami right next to the witch. "Would you care for an apéritif to start? Or perhaps some drinks, like one of our signature cocktails? Maybe a glass of Umeshu? You know, something sweet for someone sweet."

His wink was flawless and it would've been perfect if not for Nami's retort.

"Something wrong with your eye?"

Nami was frowning, taken aback by the comment and equally amused.

"Very good question," the witch nodded.

Nami tried her best to stifle a laugh when she realized she was backed up. Usopp was hardly holding back his laughter

"Forgive a man for being blinded by such beautiful ladies," he grinned as if he'd fallen in love not once, but twice in the same minute. "So?"

"Water, please," Nami answered.

"Still, sparkling, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?"

"Regular water in a regular glass. Thanks."

"A beer for me."

Zoro's voice was threatening and low, sharp gaze still focused on Sanji.

"A beer for me. I usually have two, but…" Usopp didn't have enough time to continue as he's been interrupted by Luffy.

"A glass of milk for milk for me!" the straw hat said with his mouth still stuffed with bread.

Sanji's head turned towards the witch with a smile curling his lips.

"One of the special cocktails you mentioned, please."

The witch didn't intentionally use that kind voice. It was a habit whenever she talked to strangers to soften her tone and smile out of courtesy and politeness. Probably, her kind gesture has been misunderstood as flirtatious.

"Any preferences? We have plenty of options you can choose from."

His smile already reached his ears and she could feel a specific swordsman straightening his back by her side.

"Nothing too strong, if you may."

"Of course."

"Are you done yet?"

Zoro made all of them turn their attention to him and while usually he wouldn't like it, at that time he couldn't give a single fuck about it. All he did was arch his eyebrow at the waiter and telling him to fuck off as politely as he could, with no cuss words falling from his mouth yet. If Sanji continued to gravitate around their table with that flirtatious smile on his lips, the swordsman might burst a vein on his forehead sooner rather than later.

Sanji wasn't exactly satisfied to be rushed, but he turned on his heels and left. The witch was still looking at Zoro from the corner of her eye, trying her best to understand what just happened.

He seemed fine minutes ago. Not too talkative, definitely, but not… so mad either. What has been with that scowl on his face ever since Sanji appeared? He couldn't be enough of a man child to be jealous of someone's flirting—

I'm getting delusional lately, the witch cut off her own thought process.

"Mad about something, Zoro?" Nami smirked devilishly.

"Everything's fine."

Everything was, in fact, not fine.

The witch was engulfed by her thoughts, fingers pressing and rolling the fork between her fingers after their food was served. She had to admit she was hungry and was trying her best to savor the pieces of meat tickling her taste buds, but it was almost impossible to ignore the shallow sensation in her stomach.

"Was there anything wrong with your tarot?"

Nami, who was by her side, turned her head and offered the witch her entire attention. Maybe she's been playing with her food for long enough to get their attention.

"Not wrong, just something I would've rather not know," she said after swallowing.

"What did you see?"

She shook her head softly with a light chuckle leaving her lips.

"I pulled the Death card." Quickly enough, she realized she shouldn't have started with that.

"Who's dying?!" Usopp almost choked on his food.

"It's metaphorical death," she clarified. "The ending of a cycle and a new beginning, whatever that might mean this time," with a shrug, she proved her own uncertainty.

"Doesn't sound that bad," Zoro commented while he curled his fingers around his glass of beer.

The young woman still remembered each element of the first tarot card she saw before they left The Going Merry. The skeleton dressed in silver armor on the white horse, holding a flag with the number 'XIII' and the people kneeling in front of it, their clothes painted in golden, blue and white.

"It usually implies a hard step to take in order to advance. Change doesn't come unless you allow it and transformation is supposed to help you evolve, not regress. Each time, it doesn't come easily and it shakes up your reality first. Simply put, who the heck knows what might happen in the next few days," she clicked her tongue. "Anything is possible."

"What use do those readings have if you can't even find out what's really going on?" Nami arched her eyebrow.

Fate spoke for itself.

The witch's eyes fixed on hers, regret hanging around her heart.

"They give enough clues, I just have to figure them out."

She felt bad for keeping to herself the other two cards she pulled: the ten of swords and the four of pentacles — betrayal reasoned by protecting yourself. The witch knew who this was about and she didn't mutter a word about it, finding it improper to do so.

"And did you?"

"Not entirely yet," she bit at her bottom lip.

She knew her words were probably just passing by the ears of her friends. The witch was well aware they had no reason to believe in such things or listen to her. They could take her words into account or completely ignore them; it didn't really matter, as for her the reality remained the same.

What mattered was that she knew only half of the upcoming events. The other side was hidden somewhere in shadows and life lessons the cards decided she had to learn on her own.

"I won't need food for a year," Nami commented after she leaned back against the cushions, sighing.

"We should do a toast. Come on, grab your glasses."

The witch's fingers curled around her glass of cocktail with a soft smile.

"To the best crew sailing on the sea and to our victory!"

"No, I'm sorry," Nami furrowed her eyebrows. "What victory exactly?"

The witch didn't even get to bring the glass to her lips, Nami's question sinking deeply into her bones.

"I don't know how many naval battles you guys have been part of…"

"Two dozen, at least," Usopp interrupted her before taking one more sip from his beer.

"Plenty," the witch placed her untouched glass back on the table. "It was a disaster, I'm well aware of it. We could've died before reaching a day of sailing with The Going Merry."

"Then I suppose you agree we were unprepared and uncoordinated," Nami turned towards her.

There's never been such tension lingering around the navigator since the witch got to know her. The orange haired woman was easy going and talkative, she was skilled and was so strong. Someone used to the harsh world they lived in and yet she seemed absolutely stupefied by the mention of said victory.

Nami was tense and uncomfortable as she continued to shift in her seat, surprised wide eyes glaring at Luffy.

"You didn't think to mention your grandfather was a Marine? And not just any marine, a vice-admiral! I don't know about you, but I didn't sign up for that."

"You raided a marine base," Zoro spoke calmly. "Of course that'll make you a target."

The witch only let out a soft sigh and straightened her back with a frown. She was equally worried, but…

"I understand where you're coming from, Nami, but it wouldn't have helped us with anything to know about Luffy's relatives or their status. We're already haunted for merely having a map in our possession."

At their table Sanji appeared again, with a gray plate with a paper in between his fingers this time.

"Your bill, sir."

Luffy pulled his lips together and glanced at Nami before taking the pen and scribbling something.

"Thank you," he smiled up at the waiter.

Sanji took the plate and almost instantly, a mischievous grin splayed on his face.

"No, thank you," and with that, he walked away.

Whatever that was supposed to mean.

Luffy turned towards his friends once again, confident in his opinion.

"I'm not saying it's good that the Marines are on our tail, but we showed them that they can't just roll over us. This crew, our crew, can handle anything."

The witch gently smiled at him and leaned her elbows on the table again.

"We could use your optimism, Luffy, but it's harder than that. At any given time from now on, the simple fact that we're after One Piece is enough of a reason for a Warlord to come after us because right now, we're an easy target. Not to mention the relationship between the Marines and the Warlords. Remember that these seven pirates aren't anyone's toys and if we ever encounter them, it will not always have something to do with the Navy."

"What makes you talk about the Warlords?" the navigator gulped. "They'd be an ever bigger pain in our asses. Average pirates are merciless already—"

Nami stopped herself from talking and looked away. An unusual reaction met with silence from the witch.

"Luffy isn't the only one with relatives—"

"Who the hell is Monkey D. Luffy?" a hoarse voice boomed.

The witch could feel a headache appearing along with the old chef who was hobbling because of his wooden leg. She finally gulped the entire cocktail.

Why was Luffy always getting into trouble?

"I need a drink," Nami exhaustedly threw her head back.

"I need dozens of drinks," the witch sighed heavily.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Maybe it wasn't a camaraderie thing to do to their captain, but they were now occupying some seats on the terrace of the open fish mouth. The witch was in between Nami and Usopp on the large couch, with their backs facing the sea, meanwhile Zoro sat on a chair, at the other side of the table.

The witch had a whiskey bottle from which she poured herself shots once in a few minutes. Usopp had three straws in his mouth and he drank a sweet cocktail from a bowl. Zoro warned him with a chuckle, but he didn't listen.

Nami, on the other side, was silent as she stared into her empty glass for longer than expected. The witch found it worrisome — she was used to her own phases, but it hurt to watch her friend struggle with something she didn't entirely share. Nami's issue was known by them and yet there was something the witch just grasped onto, a tale told by her tarot.

"The next drink is on me," the navigator got up from her seat.

"Nami," the witch's fingers curled around her friend's.

She squeezed Nami's hand gently and looked up at her with concern in her eyes. The witch rubbed her fingers over her knuckles in a silent plea, her eyebrows knitted together.

You're not alone, her touch said. It's alright. We can make it alright.

Nami swallowed down hard and barely squeezed the hand who held her before slipping away from them.

The witch poured herself a shot and gulped it down quickly.

"Why are you in such a hurry as well?"

Zoro's voice made her chest burn worse than the alcohol.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'd just rather not talk," she mumbled as she rolled the small glass between her fingers.

"You know something that I don't," he concluded quickly.

Usopp, who sat like an obedient child and listened, blinked curiously.

"I know a lot of things that you don't, Zoro," she responded with sorrow.

Saying one single word about Nami while she was gone felt unfair.

When the orange haired woman came back to them with a bottle in her hand, her conversation with Zoro somehow turned into a guessing game. Usopp, who obviously didn't take the swordsman's warning into account, went to the dance ring and moved like a sea slug — or that's what Zoro said.

"Are you in?" Nami asked.

"I'd rather not," the witch lowered her gaze.

It was easy to admit she didn't want to share anything about herself. Still, she knew better than that; with some shots, her tongue would loosen up bit by bit.

Her eyelashes fluttered lazily and her gaze fell on the glass she held. The corners of her mouth were slightly curled downwards and she seemed aware of the effect alcohol would have on her. She will succumb into sorrow or happiness, depending on which one clouded her mind first. The lack of answers coming from someone who adored to share experiences and explain was strange.

Nami looked at her from the corner of her eye and accepted the situation as it was. She'll get the witch to talk one way or another. Something was fishy about her behavior — it was poking Nami's senses.

The witch leaned against the cushions and turned her head towards the sea, pushing reality out of her awareness. Zoro's and Nami's conversation sounded muffled from her perspective, caging herself willingly in her head.

Zoro was sitting right in front of her and the witch still thought of him. Her feelings were confusing and analyzing them was a full time job. Maybe it was time for her to accept her situation and deal with the heart aching for him. It was impossible not to think of him, especially when his deep voice sounded like a melody.

She swallowed a lump in her throat and blinked away the overwhelming sensation settling in her chest. Maybe the present could give her peace.

"You're unfair, Roronoa," she crooked a teasing grin and turned her head towards him.

"How's that so?"

His gaze burning holes into her shouldn't affect her as much as it did. Those black oceans shining shamelessly told her everything she had to know, it made hope bloom in the center of her soul.

Maybe there was a chance. A tiny little chance hidden in his mesmerizing eyes.

"She's telling you entire stories, but you don't even bother to elaborate."

He clenched his jaw and scoffed.

"That's not part of the game," the side of his mouth curled upwards.

"Now that I think about it, she's right," Nami smirked.

"Just drink."

With that, they raised their glasses and both glanced at the unusually silent witch.

"I didn't play the game," she excused herself.

"That's why you have to drink. You listened and didn't share," Nami arched her eyebrow. "Are you also unfair, Witch?"

It was Zoro the one who poured whiskey in her empty glass.

"You two are so sneaky," the witch laughed softly and complied.

The alcohol burnt her throat and it was the alcohol getting to her head that brought questionable curiosities in her head… How would his lips taste? Would he make her burn harder? A one single touch from him would both ruin and put her back together.

Alright, I have to find something else to think of.

Hastily, the witch who sat by Nami's side gulped down another shot of whiskey and got up from the cushions. An idea creeped in her mind when her attention fell on the group of four musicians whose music Usopp danced to.

"Where are you heading to?"

"Killing some time," she winked at Nami.

With light steps, she walked to the guitarist and asked for his instrument after he just finished playing. With a nod, he handed her the guitar and she grabbed a chair to sit on. Her legs crossed and she positioned the guitar in her lap easily, like second nature. Gentle fingers tapped the wooden object and her lips curled — it was perfect — before her grip on the neck of the guitar tightened. Her other hand was busy testing the chords, tingles running down her spine at the sensation.

She hasn't felt that in too long.

The alcohol was also a reason for her bold action, but the witch didn't care. The fingers of one hand pressed against the strings, while she played with the other hand, giving life to the guitar. Lively sounds rang through the air and the other musicians quickly picked up on the notes. A classic, an old shanty pirates would sing when drunk after victories, but it was more beautiful when she played it. Even her humming and the rare times when her lips would part to let sweet words fall from between them, it was alluring.

Zoro's attention never left her figure. Her eyes sparkled with freedom and the smile on her face was that of an angel. She was life itself, stuck under soft skin and hidden in her heart. The dim lights of the terrace — the open fish mouth — bathed her in white and warm gold. Her happy face, the smile lines, the crinkles of her eyes, the jovial energy surrounding her; all of these things charmed him over and over again. The longer he looked at her, the worse it got, because he didn't have the courage within himself to avert his gaze from her.

"You should just admit it," Nami said.

He didn't look at her when he let out a low "Hm?"

"Don't you think she's pretty?"

His head snapped towards her.

"What are you talking about?"

"Which one of us are you trying to fool, Zorol; me or yourself?"

Uncomfortably, the swordsman shifted in his seat, clenching his jaw.

"I think you're confused," he responded with fake confidence while he crossed his arms over his chest.

"No, you are confused," Nami scoffed. "You were jealous back then, when Sanji flirted with her."

"You're quick to jump to conclusions."

"If Usopp would be here, he'd agree."

"Unfortunately, he's too drunk to even walk straight, so I suppose he isn't here to support your theory."

"Speaking of him."

Nami just spotted Usopp who came back to their table with a man behind him. A strange man, judging by the hilt of the sword as tall as him — and he wasn't short by any means either.

"Which one of you is Monkey D. Luffy?"

Zoro turned his head lazily, arching his eyebrow.

"I don't recall such a name."

The witch's peace has been entirely destroyed by the new appearance, an unwelcome guest. She could spot him easily because of his big elegant hat with feathers and the sword with precious stones on the hilt.

It was her turn to stand proudly in front of a Warlord she's only heard about from her deceased father. Her back was straight and her chin up high, gaze sharp.

When the man turned his head to her, there was no mistake it was Dracule Mihawk, his golden irises shining with boredom. Even his perfect posture betrayed the obvious superiority he had in front of some mere children.

"I didn't know your father had raised a liar. He was honest, from what I recall."

The witch knew she was her father's splitting image, but how could he know—

The only thing that stopped her eyes from widening in surprise were the nails digging painfully into her palms.

"I don't know any Monkey D. Luffy and I certainly have no clue what you're talking about."

"I have business with your captain. If you know what's good for you, you'll hand him over."

"I don't know either," Nami responded from her seat. "Right, Zoro?"

"You're Dracule Mihawk."

The swordsman got up from his chair and for a moment, the witch wondered if he was insane or more delusional than her, because there's no other way he stood without a worry in the world in front of him.

In front of someone who could slice entire ships into pieces.

"Zoro?" the witch whispered, horrified.

The man in question stepped by Mihawk and walked slowly, steadily, as if the Warlord was his prey.

"It pains me to inform you that tomorrow… you're going to die."

Oh, Gods, please don't.

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The witch was left speechless. She couldn't find strength in her legs and she had to sit on a chair when all of them gathered in the valley of their ship.

Zoro wasn't a sane man. He needed to be locked up or someone had to get that stick from up his ass before he had a chance to die out of stupidity.

She shook her head countless times while Zoro and Nami argued, rubbing her forehead with her fingertips and squeezing her eyes shut.

"Why do you even care?" the swordsman's cold tone rang in the air.

"Because you're my friend, you idiot."

Nami sounded close to losing it all.

The witch already lost it one hundred times. Her heart wasn't beating, her breath was shallow and she was pinching the bridge of her nose to hold back from saying or doing something rude, something she would later regret. The tension in the room weighed on her chest and she wished it was all just a nightmare.

"You said you don't have any friends," Zoro responded sharply.

The woman's eyes snapped open. He was more insane than she thought. She wanted to yell, but no raw sound filled with pain left her chapped lips. The witch could only remain rigid while Nami left the room with loud stomps.

"You're insane, Zoro," she muttered between gritted teeth.

The witch was tugging painfully at her own strands of her in order to stop the overwhelming feelings from spilling out of her like a tornado. Her shaking fingers curled into her hair and gripped, the burn on her scalp bringing her back to the cabin of their ship.

"This is a suicide mission."

"It's his dream," Luffy smiled, "we can't—"

"Zoro, you're gonna die!" she shouted out of the sudden after she snapped her head towards the swordsman.

She sank her nails into her palms until the sting was painful enough to keep herself stable. It was not to her liking to be pessimistic, to admit that someone wasn't able to do something, but what he wanted to do was not the most intelligent idea.

"This isn't good, this won't end well at all and you shall know it," the witch continued. "You can't seriously believe you'll get out of there better than half-alive."

The swordsman didn't need to respond in order to answer. His unmoving gaze and straightened back told enough: he wasn't going to change his mind at all, no matter what anyone said.

She knew it meant a lot for him to become the strongest swordsman in the world, but in his current state he wasn't able to defeat Mihawk. Out of all the people he could've dwelt with, Zoro chose him, that monster of a man.

"Did you not listen to me when I said 'He cuts entire ships with a mere flick of his wrist'?" she furrowed her eyebrows. "Did you suddenly forget when I clearly warned you all the warlords aren't some mere toys for the big guys in the system, they do whatever the fuck they want!"

She cussed herself for letting out so many emotions, but she seriously couldn't hold back anymore, no matter how worried Usopp seemed, or how confused Luffy was. They had no clue what Zoro was getting into—

"That's exactly why I'm dwelling with him and not someone else," the green-haired man spoke firmly.

"Oh, so your dream is to get cut in half by a sword taller than you?" her irritation slipped.

"Do you really think I trained my entire life to get cut without putting up a fight?"

Even if she didn't want to admit it to herself, one side of his heart was hurt. This entire time, every time they spoke, she openly told him she believes in him, that she trusts him even if it would be her downfall. It sounded like she's been lying this entire time.

"You know very well I never meant that you're weak, but you're not stronger than him! That's your idea of a swordsman? You can believe, you can even hope for the best to happen, but the happiest situation would be a quick death. And the worst? A torturous one."

"I didn't take you for someone who wouldn't understand what the pride of dying in a duel means."

"Fucking hell!"

The witch's tight fist hit the table placed in the middle of the cabin with a quick and hurried motion, her feelings indeed getting the best of her that time. It didn't come to mind the last time she ever acted so harshly.

He turned her words against herself and he was a professional at doing so. She knew what kind of pride swordsmen and pirates carry, she knew what they considered noble because she's spent years of her life listening to men and women talking about such things. Her father did the same, thought he could get out of any problem, until it brought him his death.

"Maybe you should have more faith," Usopp intervened in a small voice.

He was hesitant, the surprise obvious on his face — none of them expected that their most collected crewmate would lash out like that. Luffy was also silent, confused, obviously trying to find a way to get into the thick heads of his friends somehow. The argument escalated quickly and the tension wiped away any ounce of peace.

The witch's eyes were fixed on Zoro's and they burnt holes through his face. He's seen just as many emotions a night ago, when she told him about her past sailing experiences, about the life she left behind as she desperately tried to find freedom. And if freedom felt like that, he wondered if she really wanted it. He succumbed to the flames of hell in her eyes, but snapped himself out of it.

She was angry at him, he figured out quickly.

He didn't like that gaze. He'd do almost anything for her to stop looking at him that way, as if she wanted him away from her, as if his very presence brought her suffering. Almost anything.

"You see just what you want to see, Zoro. You're deliberately ignoring our worries, thinking we have something against you, thinking god-knows-what about how we're not your friends or whatever the fuck's going through your head—"

I'm worried for you, she swallowed a lump in her throat.

"Just because me and Nami are trying to stop you, it doesn't mean we're assholes keeping you away from your dream. We might be assholes, but we want you to be alive, not six feet under the ground!" her voice raised slightly at the end again, her breath shallow.

"You're worried about her, not about me. I don't need your worry."

"Zoro—" this time Luffy tried to intervene.

"You're impossible," she faintly spoke, like a ghost.

She gave up.

She buried her face into her own palms and sat on a chair, her elbows prompted on her knees. She had so much faith in Zoro, she could barely even point out how many feelings swirl in her heart when it comes to him, but she was aware he was mortal. He could die at any given time.

"Right, Zoro. Go die with pride filling you up the same way that man's sword will," she bitterly mumbled.

I hate you, Roronoa Zoro. You and your stupid pride, along with the fucked way I feel about you. I hate it all.

The poor woman was exhausted, her heartstrings twisting into knots, making it hard to ignore the pain running through her entire being. His name rolled on her tongue so many times in only a few minutes and it made her situation worse, that one word made of two syllables cutting through her chest.

The witch regretted her words immediately, but didn't say anything for a while.

Usopp nudged Luffy into leaving the other two alone and it was probably one of the few times when the straw hat understood subtleties without any questions.

"Take your time and clean your swords, Zoro, we'll be waiting outside," Luffy spoke.

The witch heard two pairs of steps that walked away, her face still buried in her palms. She gulped and took in a few deep breaths before she moved from her seat, straightening her back and moving to the window of the cabin, hands gripping at the edge of the wood.

She didn't throw a glance at Zoro. Silence stretched between them while the witch focused on the stars shining in the night sky.

I shouldn't have been here in the first place, she thought to herself, twisting the blade deeper into the wound. I shouldn't have accepted to come with you. I should've stayed in Syrup Village and left with another ship, to go somewhere far away from you. I should've known better that there's no way in hell I can grasp at the mere notion of freedom.

There's no place for me in heaven and there's no place for me in hell either. I'm stuck here, in this body, with these feelings and this swordsman in this galley.

I should've known. I should've known I was damned to die on my feet, with a bleeding heart and my back turned at you. I should've—

She gulped down harshly, blinking away the tears.

I want to stay with you all so badly.

"Zoro," she whispered his name again.

Tears stung in her eyes at the sound of his name. It felt like it was the last time she could hear his name repeatedly, the same name carved with silver on her heart.

"Be careful," she continued, her voice faint.

"Why do you care?" his bitter tone resounded in her eardrums. "Everyone seems deadly interested in my actions lately."

Only then she turned her head towards him and her ribcage protested when the prisoner that was her heart beat so harshly.

"I don't need a reason. I simply do. Please, Zoro."

Like the idiot that she was, she begged him to stay alive. A confession was hidden between her chapped lips — she picked at them with her nails and there was blood surfacing on top of the skin. Her tongue swiped over her bottom lip, the metallic flavor tickling her taste buds.

Judging on the way his jaw ticked with tension, he grasped onto enough of her words. Or maybe he refused to do so — who knows?

"Don't throw your life away. You'll never fulfill your promise if you die today. Be mindful. Don't rush when fighting, don't get angry if he pushes on your buttons and irritates you. Be wise, Zoro."

It was a lost fight on her side. There was nothing she could do to stop him, so at least she had to give him the best advice she thought of.

When he finally looked at her, her breath hitched. His brown eyes saw through her soul and she wondered if he could also feel how much she cared for him, the way she cared for him. She liked everyone on the ship equally, but her affection for him took a different path, one she's never walked on before.

He didn't say a word, letting everything sink in.

Maybe there is a chance he gets what I meant.

"Be careful."

This time, her voice trembled but she didn't look away. She stood there, staring at him as if it was the last time she saw his eyes open.

She turned towards the window again, nails digging into the wooden frame. She refused to look at him when she figured out tears could spill over her cheeks like a river if he continued staring at her, burying himself further into her soul. She only wanted him to be safe, because nothing was greater than that. If all of them could be kept away from harm's way, she would have days filled with peace.

Too bad such a thing was impossible in that unforgiving world.

Behind her, Zoro moved around and left the galley. After a few minutes, he came back with a bottle of oil for his swords. He dragged a chair and sat down at the table, more silent than usually. With utmost care, he took one of his black swords and unsheathed it, leaving the scabbard on the table. He poured some oil on the blade and used a piece of cloth to spread it even from tip to hilt.

The witch only dared to throw glances with an aching heart. She couldn't bring herself to leave, to stay away from him for too long now more than ever. She swallowed hard before making a tough decision.

Wordlessly, she moved from the window. Her heavy steps echoed in the room until they stopped right by Zoro's side.

"Can I help?"

Calm, just like she always tries to be, she spoke with fear clinging to every nerve in her body. She would blame herself for the rest of her life if they would part ways like that. More than her fears and worries, he mattered. He deserved all the pain she was capable of harboring inside her poor heart, he was worth the fight with her own self.

The swordsman didn't expect her gesture. He supposed she would storm out of the room, that she would scold him or try to stop him, just like before. He guessed she was more sane than him, even if he couldn't bring himself to care enough about that. Her reaction pained him in ways he couldn't explain.

His fingers pressed the piece of cloth against the blade of his words. He thought of being petty, shutting her down. Why couldn't she believe in him more? Was he that weak?

He nodded. Like the stupid man that he was, with no need for spoken words, he accepted her help. He watched her blank face, devoid of any life, as she took another sword from the table, following his exact steps.

Except, her hold on the white sword was gentle like a feather. A careful grip, so it wouldn't slip from her hand, but gentle nonetheless. He stopped whatever he was doing, focusing on the woman who rested her hips against the table, close to him, so close, but, oh, so far away. Zoro watched her unsheathe his Wado Ichimoji and place it on the table. Her hand reached out for the bottle of oil and her other one took advantage of the opportunity, taking the piece of cloth from his own hold.

Their fingers touched. Hers were cold, but they still burnt his skin. Electric shocks traveled through his body and his chest tightened.

She poured some oil on the material and then left the bottle on the table, gripping at the hilt of the sword again. She moved the piece of cloth over the blade carefully, as if she's done it before countless times. Left, right, left, right. Everytime she exhaled, her breath was trembling, despite the slow pace of her gestures.

He paid more attention to the hands holding his sword: they were shaking when she placed the sword on the table. She poured some more oil on the cloth and dipped the tip of her index finger in the same spot. With the same finger, she drew on the blade a symbol Zoro didn't recognize.

With each stroke of her fingertip, she traced lines and connected them in a barely visible symbol: an arrow pointed upwards.

"It's a rune meant for protection," she explained softly as she sheathed the sword. "It's associated with strength and honor. It doesn't matter if you don't believe in it, because I do and that's enough."

It was true: he didn't believe in such things and never did. The swordsman never found it reasonable nor did he ever try to figure it out. It didn't mean he denied her beliefs — no, but he was indifferent towards it.

However, he couldn't act indifferent towards the witch, which he found at that point to be straight up painful. It was painful to look at her and see torment in her deep eyes, it hurt to see sorrow painted on her angelic features when none of them was dead.

The witch did the same gesture with the other two swords, carefully holding each one of them, as if they were her own treasures, not his.

"Come back alive," she whispered.

If he wouldn't have been so close to her, her voice would've sounded like a breath.

"That's all I ask of you. If you wish so, then no sword will cut through you. Blades can cut steel, but nothing can cut will."

What was she mourning when she said those things? Who did she think of? he wondered.

May the gods protect you tomorrow, she hoped. They've taken so many away from me along the way.

Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58 @katiemrty @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @freyademartel @boofy1998 @ponyboys-sunsets @melsunshine @loveyluv7 @waddlingwanderer @untoldshortsofthefandoms @mizzy-pop

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mariasont · 1 month

Text

Our Minds Entwined------------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

Aaron Hotchner x Original Character x Spencer Reid

in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest youngest member

The clock struck midnight, its chimes echoing softly though the BAU's office, a space usually buzzing with the day's urgency now settled into a rare stillness, broken by the occasional shuffle of feet or the muted ring of a phone quickly silenced.

Evelyn, her silhouette illuminated by the soft luminescence of the computer screen, was a portrait of focus. Her eyes, reflecting the screen's pale blue light, moved rapidly as she scanned the data before her. Stray locks of hair framed her face, a few rebellious strands occasionally obscuring her view, only to be tucked behind an ear with an absent-minded brush of her hand.

Her desk was a landscape of organized chaos, with documents cascading over one another and colorful pens scattered across the wood. Her fingers, poised gracefully above the keyboard, were a study of precision, each keystroke a deliberate and thoughtful action.

The office around her was still, save for the soft hum of machinery and the distant sound of a siren that wailed briefly before fading into the night. The air was heavy with the scent of coffee, long gone cold, and the faintest hint of ink and toner.

Across the room, Reid's silhouette was framed by the window, his tall figure bent over a table littered with files. The faint light from the streetlamps outside filtered through, illuminating his furrowed brow as he pieced together profiles with the meticulous care of an artist.

Their interactions were sparse, limited to the necessary exchange of information, yet there was a comfort in the shared silence, a mutual understanding that words were superfluous when the work demanded their all.

Evelyn rose from her desk, stretching slightly to ease the stiffness in her back. She gathered a stack of papers, the edges crisp and cool against her fingers, and made her way to the copy machine nestled in the corner of the office.

Reid, his attention usually locked within the realm of profiles and patterns, found his gaze inadvertently drawn to Evelyn as she bent over to load the papers into the feeder, her hips jutted out, her ass perfectly outlined by her skirt. Her body was a rare lapse in his concentration, one that left him momentarily disarmed.

"Uh, need a hand with that?" Reid's voice broke the silence, a touch of hesitance threading through his usual calm as he diverted his gaze from her ass.

Evelyn looked up, a hint of surprise flickering across her face. "Actually, yes. It's being stubborn," she replied, her tone laced with mild frustration as the machine gave a disgruntled beep and ceased operation.

Reid crossed the room, his steps measured, the soft carpet muffling his approach. He stood beside her, their shoulders almost touching, as he examined the rebellious machine. "Sometimes it just needs a little...," he began, reaching out to navigate the copier's cryptic buttons.

Before he could finish, the office plunged into darkness, a power outage seizing the building in its sudden grip. The hum of the machinery died, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

"Spencer?" Evelyn's voice cut through the darkness, tinged with confusion and an instinctive reach for familiarity. Her hands, almost on their own accord, reached out into the void, fingers splayed in search of the tangible reassurance of her surroundings.

In the sudden stillness, Evelyn's breath hitched as she felt the unexpected warmth of Spencer's hands on her hips. His touch was gentle yet firm, a steadying presence that grounded her in the enveloping darkness. The soft fabric of her skirt offered little barrier to the heat of his palms, and she could feel the contours of his fingers pressing against her.

Spencer's front was close, so close that she could sense the line of his body against her back without either of them moving. It was an intimate proximity that had never shared, his chest almost brushing against her as they both paused in the unexpected closeness.

Evelyn's heart raced, not from fear of the dark, but from the sudden heat she felt. His presence was like a solid pillar, and for a moment, she leaned back ever so slightly, drawn by the comfort of his nearness. The air around them seemed to thrum with a new energy.

As quickly as the moment came, it passed, and they stepped away from each other, the space crackling between them with an unspoken tension.

"Sorry," Spencer's voice was a hushed murmur in the darkness, a soft admission that seemed louder in the silence.

Evelyn's response came quickly. "It's okay," she said. In the pitch-black office, Evelyn was acutely aware of the warmth spreading across her cheeks. "It's just... dark."

Her body shouldn't be reacting this way, she chided herself silently. He was a colleague, maybe a friend, and yet the fluttering in her stomach contradicted her rational thoughts. The darkness concealed her flushed face, but it couldn't hide the quickening of her pulse or the confusion that clouded her mind.

Evelyn's voice broke through the silence again, this time with a note of practically. "The doors... they're badge-operated," she stated, more to herself than to Spencer. The fact was a simple one, but it served as a necessary anchor, pulling her thoughts away from the lingering warmth of his touch.

Reid's mind, ever analytic, race through their options. "The backup generator should kick in, but it might be a few minutes," he said, trying to sound reassuring.

They moved together, almost instinctively, toward the door. Evelyn's fingers fumbled along the wall, seeking the familiar contour of the switch, though she knew it was futile. Reid, meanwhile, pulled out his phone, the dim glow casting shadows as he tried to illuminate their path.

The badge reader beside the door was unresponsive, it's usual green light extinguished. They exchanged a look, an unspoken agreement passing through them for a moment. They were indeed stuck, at least for the moment.

The stillness of the office felt different now, charged with the intimacy of shared confinement. They retreated from the doors, finding their way back to the center of room. "Guess we wait,"

"Or we could call Hotch. That man never sleeps." With a resigned sigh, he pulled out his phone and dialed. The call rang persistently, but there was no answer.

Spencer ended the call, a hint of frustration in his eyes. "No answer," he said, turning to Evelyn. "Maybe you should try."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "What, and shatter the myth that Aaron Hotchner actually needs sleep like the rest of us mortals? Fine, I'll give it a shot."

She dialed the number, half-expecting it to go to voicemail. To her surprise, Hotch picked up almost immediately. "Hotch? It's Evelyn. Evelyn Gideon. I... uh, didn't actually think you'd answer."

"Yes, Evelyn I know it's you. Is everything alright?" Hotch's voice was calm, a stark contrast to the fluttering in Evelyn's stomach.

"We're locked in the building. The power is off and the badge reader's down and... well, we're stuck here," she confessed, her words more measured than she felt.

"I'll be there in ten," Hotch replied without missing a beat, and the line went dead.

Evelyn turned to Spencer, her earlier confidence replaced with a sheepish grin. "Okay, now we wait."

Spencer leaned against his desk, his eyes reflecting a hint of amusement. "You know, it's probably just the novelty of not hearing my extensive use of statistics in casual conversation. Hotch might've thought it was a prank call."

Evelyn's laughter filled the room, a sound that seemed foreign in the usually somber office. "Speaking of, what's the statistic of getting locked in the office with a power outage?"

Spencer glanced at her, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "Well, actually, it's quite rare. The probability is less than 0.005% on any given day."

Her laughter grew louder, and she shook her head in disbelief. "Spencer, I wasn't being serious."

He smiled, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "No, I know that," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "But you have to admit, it's an interesting statistic."

Evelyn hopped up onto the desk, crossing her legs as she faced Spencer. The conversation flowed easily between them, filled with light banter that had become their unique way of coping with the stress of the job.

"So, Dr. Reid," Evelyn began, a teasing tone in her voice, "if you're so good with statistics, what are the odds of us getting out of here before we turn into BAU office decorations?"

Spencer chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Well, considering Hotch's driving skills and disregard for traffic laws when it comes to his team, I'd say the odds are in our favor."

As they laughed, Spencer's hand accidentally brushed against Evelyn's leg. The contact was brief, but it was enough for him to notice the smoothness of her skin. He quickly retracted his hand, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

Before either could comment, the lights flickered back to life, bathing the room in a harsh fluorescent glow. The badge reader beside the door beeped, its green light signaling the return of power.

The door swung open, and Hotch stepped in, his expression of concern and mild irritation. "I see the power's back," he said, surveying the scene before him. "You two alright?"

Evelyn slid off the desk, smoothing out her skirt. "We're fine, Hotch. Just enjoying some... statistical analysis with Reid."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on Evelyn for a moment. He nodded once, before turning to leave the room.

Spencer, curiosity piqued, hurried after Hotch. "Hey, Hotch," he called out, catching up. "Why didn't you answer my call?"

Evelyn, left alone by the desk, couldn't help but giggle. She quickly gathered her belongings, the recent events still playing in her mind like a curious melody. She slung her purse over her shoulder and made her way to the exit, her steps echoing softly in the now-quiet office.

As she rounded a corner, she collided with a figure emerging from the shadows. "Oh shoot, sorry," he exclaimed, taking a step back.

The man she bumped into was tall, with a friendly smile that reached his eyes. "No harm done," she said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "You're Evelyn, right? From the BAU? I'm Daniel, from the Counterterrorism Division."

Evelyn nodded, a little taken aback by the recognition. "Nice to meet you, Daniel. I didn't expect to run into anyone else here so late."

Daniel's grin widened. "Yeah, the hours can be unpredictable. But it's all in a day's work, right?"

Evelyn returned the smile. "Absolutely, makes the job all the more interesting." She glanced at her watch, groaning in her head at how late it was. "Well, I should head out. Early start tomorrow and all that."

"Of course," Daniel replied. "It was nice running into you, Evelyn. Maybe I'll see you around."

With a final nod, Evelyn turned and walked away. She stepped out into the cool air, the parking lot bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. She noticed two familiar cars: Spencer's old sedan and Hotch's study SUV. As she made her way to her car, Spencer's vehicle started up, and he drove past her, offering a small nod.

She then spotted Hotch, sitting in his SUV, his silhouette unmistakable. "Hotch?" she called out, approaching the vehicle with a curious tilt of her head.

The window rolled down, and Hotch looked at her, his face a mask of casual vigilance. "Just making sure you get to your car safely," he said, his voice carrying a subtle warmth reserved for his team.

Evelyn laughed softly, the sound carrying in the stillness. "Aw Hotch, playing the knight in shining armor?"

He cracked a rare, half-smile. "Well, considering you've attracted more trouble in your first week than most agents do in a year, I thought it prudent to stick around."

She shook her head, still smiling. "I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you."

Hotch nodded, his gaze lingering for a moment longer. "Just try to avoid any more late-night lock-ins, okay?"

She laughed, the sound crisp in the night air. "I'll do my best. Goodnight, Hotch."

"Goodnight, Evelyn. Drive safe."

With a final nod, Evelyn turned and walked to her car.

Evelyn arrived at her home, a pristine two-story house that exuded classic charm. The white paint glowed under the moonlight, and the dark roofing added a touch of elegance. Each dormer window was adorned with pastel flowers.

Inside, she moved gracefully, her high heels clicking on the hardwood as she placed her bag down. The day's tensions melting away as she slipped into her silky pajama, the fabric gliding over her skin like a gentle caress. As she settled into bed, the softness of the sheets a welcome contrast to the day's harshness, her phone rang. It was Spencer, his voice a soothing presence in the quiet of the night.

"Hey, Evelyn, just wanted to make sure you got home safely," he said.

Evelyn settled deeper into her pillows, a smile playing on her lips. "I did, thanks. But you know, you don't have to worry. Statistically speaking, the likelihood of encountering danger on a short drive within one's own neighborhood is quite low."

There was a pause, and then Spencer's voice returned, laced with his characteristic blend of humor and fact. "Well, actually, while the probability is low, it's never zero. For example, did you know that--"

Evelyn cut him off with a light-hearted laugh. "Spencer, I know whatever you're going to say is not going to be exactly a comforting bedtime statistic."

"I suppose not." He laughed, the sound warm in her ear.

"Thanks for the check-in, Dr. Reid. I'll see you tomorrow," Evelyn said, her voice tinged with amusement.

"See you tomorrow, Evelyn. And remember, statistically, your bed is the safest place you can be right now." Spencer added before saying goodnight.

Evelyn ended the call with a soft laugh, feeling a sense of warmth flood her body as she caught herself smiling into her pillow. The night was quiet, and for once, the statistics were in her favor.

you guys!!!!!! the support on this is unreal, ugh love u all <3 i also want to start writing drabbles, one-shots, etc. SOOO if you have any requests shoot me a message <3

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

taglist: @nonamevenus

#Spotify #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x original character #spencer reid x oc #reid #dr reid #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #hotchner #hotch #aaron hotchner x oc #aaron hotchner x original character #aaron hotchner x oc x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x original character x spencer reid #reverse harem #why choose #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds

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skemford · 6 months

Text

Wanted to collect some thoughts i have about the ink demon as a character and what made him the way he is

So here we go, another personal character analysis

1. Backstory/Background

As we all know, the ink demon is an attempt to create real life toon Bendy with using the ink machine

He's the only one known instance of cartoon character being recreated without someone dying (for example, Buddy Boris) or without them being based on real people (Tom and Allison)

GENT and Joey saw him as a failed experiment and they've tried to find reasons for "why" it didn't worked the way it was intended.

It's really important for story's development and becomes one of main forces that move it:

Joey believes that you need human souls to create a perfect cartoon character (explored through batim)

GENT tries to figure out if there's something wrong with the ink machine and decides to start experiments on humans later (batdr/fade to black)

1.1 Isolation

The ink demon was closed off and isolated from everyone while they've tried to find the ways to "fix" him

Joey said that he started this project to create "alive attractions" and BendyLand in batim's cycle has a spot where Bendy (presumably) could've been placed if he was perfect:

which, obviously, didn't happen

It's worth to note that this place can be found at the haunted house which is a part of "Dark Land", location that was later confirmed to be toon Bendy's personalized attraction.

We don't know for how long the ink demon was closed at JDS but it was long enough for some employees like Norman to notice that something is off:

"...Every night, just as I'm pickin' up my coat, there's a deep groan rising up from the floor. One of these days, I'm gonna get my light and see what's causin' all the fuss below me" (Norman Polk, Boris and the dark survival tape)

After JDS went down, he was transported to New Jersey and was closed off again.

Similar thing repeats one more time in 1953 when Joey has started to work on "Joey Drew Studios show" at Kismet Productions.

We have no idea when exactly Joey has decided to 'permanently' put him in the cycle,we can only speculate that it happened somewhere in 1950s.

2. Thomas Connor/GENT

Thomas is GENT representative at JDS and he was directly involved in the ink machine's creation:

"One weird note, the first figure ever created was a failed attempt in the likeness of the character called Bendy" (Thomas Connor, batim ch 5)

In batim ch 5 Joey claims that he saw the ink demon at Tom's office which confirms that he was completely harmless at the beginning:

"...Whatever that grinning thing was I saw wandering around your office,you better keep it locked up tight!" (Joey Drew, chapter 5 tape)

He doesn't say anything about him being violent or damaging their property.

It looks like the way he acts is a consequence of abuse and isolation from GENT and Joey; it's not the reason he was isolated in the first place.

3. Joey Drew

Joey saw toon Bendy as his child that he loved and cherished but the ink demon is seen as "a weird abomination" and "a grinning thing" by him:

("... I'm paying for living attractions,not weird abominations!...")

Outside of wanting to make profit without spending more money than he intended to,Joey is also known to be obsessed with toon Bendy and his design; he sees the little devil as the most perfect work of art the world has ever saw:

"Picture me standing side by side with my greatest creation, Bendy." (TIOL, page 11)

He also notes in TIOL that toon Bendy's creation process was supposed to perfect and he nitpicks every minor detail as important

Joey calls himself a perfectionist on multiple occasions which further explains his disgust toward the ink demon, someone who came out "imperfection".

"...They were swell, I’m sure you’ve seen them and enjoyed them yourself, but they weren’t what I, ever the perfectionist, wanted them to be. Something was off." (TIOL, page 159)

"It wasn’t Bendy. But it was a cartoon character. It triggered something inside me. That deep-down place that held the solution to Bendy’s appearance had finally stirred" (TIOL,page 153)

Shawn Flynn mentions that Joey reacts deeply negatively to bendy dolls having crooked smiles:

"...So what if i went and painted some of these bendy dolls with a crooked smile? That's sure no reason for Mr. Drew to be flyin' off the handle at me..." (Shawn Flynn, batim ch 3 tape)

In Joey's eyes, Bendy was supposed to be 1 in 1 recreation for him to be perfect and lovable; the idea of him coming out off-model was something deeply unacceptable.

He separates bendy from the ink demon and calls the ink demon monster or beast:

“I think you woke the beast.” (FtB, page 247)

We know the ink demon's perspective on Joey only through his minor interaction with Memory Joey in Batdr's ending. After he decided to speak about his love toward Audrey with ignoring second person in the room, the ink demon calls him a "poor excuse of Joey Drew" and crushes to death.

He was never loved after being recreated by the ink machine and this scene can be easily interpreted as jealousy.

Even with Audrey and the ink demon temporarily sharing one body, she was still separated and put above him.

4. Henry Stein

Henry is Bendy's second creator (or "real" one, depends on how you interpret this) but he wasn't present in the ink demon's life when he was 'born' from the ink machine.

Does the ink demon know that Cycle! Henry is not the real deal? Likely he does, it was stated a couple of times that he can differentiate humans from ink creatures (and he senses ink creatures through the ink)

Latest source of this information is FtB, where he easily knew where Archie Carter, person who was experimented on, was located.

“He’s connected to me. I can’t hide and I’m leading him right for you both..." (page 215, FTB)

We don't know the ink demon's perspective on Henry (sadly,they don't have interactions in BATDR) but it can be said that he likely has complicated feelings about him.

The tombstone picnic cartoon (1929) features toon Bendy looking at someone and smiling after seeing them:

TimetheHobo (previous cartoon animator) has confirmed that this shadow was intended to be Henry:

It explains why this is the only one cartoon with a lost ending; after Henry has left the studio, Joey didn't wanted him to be associated with Bendy in any way. But especially when Bendy was happy to see Henry in cartoon's context.

Possibly the ink demon remembers Henry from cartoons? It may be the case but it's based on thin speculations; i won't claim that it's confirmed to be canon. Only time will tell.

5. The keepers/Wilson Arch

After Wilson has decided to enter the cycle and "tame" it, the ink demon becomes one of things he wants to deal with first and foremost.

The keepers, being Wilson's servants of sort, were tasked with capturing him. We don't get context on how exactly they've succeeded but we do have a couple of tapes from them:

" ...Be advised that sedation will not last long. Termination must commence immediately upon reception. Wilson will expect a detailed report of the creature's demise." (Keeper Log 13, Batdr)

Some time passes and they figure out that it's impossible to destroy him, so plans start to change. They decide to include tortures and surgical invasions to try to make him weaker:

"Keepers have administered quarter hourly sessions of physical tortures and surgical invasions to wear down his powers. All of these efforts have been ultimately unsuccessful. A new method of control must be devised" (Keeper Log 26, Batdr)

Which, obviously, fails to work. On their 44th experiments they were able to press him into toon bendy form, which has worked as a 'jail' of sorts:

"...He is smaller in size and harmless in this more timid state. His powers are also greatly reduced." (Keepers Log 44, batdr)

They also state that it was painful for him and under this pressure he has started to express emotions,like crying:

"...Using lengths of steel wire to cut into the side of his body, he now registers emotional responses. There were tears of ink documented. Screams of pain..." (Keepers Log 44, batdr)

Through the game the lost ones did wanted to believe that the ink demon has "died" but they knew that it's not true:

" He said that the ink demon is dead but i saw him. I really did"

Putting the ink demon into a smaller form and placing signal towers around is not equal to destroying him

It doesn't seems like this effect was permanent anyway; Betty says that the ink demon was at the North Wing some time ago, which seems to happen way before Audrey has entered the cycle

Wilson's plan didn't worked from the beginning, he simply delayed the issue that he had.

6. Audrey Drew

The ink demon knows who Audrey is (even before she or the player does), he says himself that ink speaks to him and has revealed everything that it knows about her:

"...The ink speaks to me. It whispers your secrets..."

"... This realm.. is mine. You were born from it... you belong to it."

They have strong narrative parallels through the whole game:

The ink demon was abandoned and forgotten. He's a cartoon mascot who's supposed to be profitable and if he isn't, he doesn't serve his purpose.

Audrey in contradictory was loved. She's human passing and wasn't put under the pressure that the ink demon has experienced.

6.1 The ink demon projects his feelings onto Audrey

The ink demon does understand that their situation is a bit similar, at the end of BATDR he projects on Audrey on purpose. She's the only one person who can (at least try to) understand the way he feels.

Based on that, they do have a lot of things in common:

One creator;

Audrey's relation to Joey is obvious, he created a daughter for himself and refers to her this way.

With the Ink demon it's Joey's presence after his creation, comments and intentions which makes them 'related'. The ink demon=Bendy and Joey saw toon Bendy as his child/"firstborn".

Failed daughters/Audreys were replaced until the perfect one, in similar way with the ink demon being replaced because he's imperfect;

Even if girls demises is not Joey's fault (we genuinely lack context), it's still interesting that it has happened.

It does makes Audrey's existence "a terrible lie" (as the ink demon says) because she doesn't know that it has happened

Their situation may make them feel lonely among others;

One of them is a tall demon among dead employees/more cartoonish characters and another is an artificial human among regular humans. Again, the ink demon's attempts to project on her make a lot of sense.

Other residents of the cycle were manipulated by higher-ups (or created to only exists in the cycle) but before that,they had normal life (or fake memories about it)

With these two, it never was "normal" for either of them, even if their experiences are highly different.

6.2 He's trying to be honest

I've brought it up in my post with Joey analysis but I'll mention it here too:

The ink demon doesn't lie

Him being an antagonist doesn't mean that he has to lie or that you can't trust him. Antagonists aren't always plain evil characters,they can be complex! In contradictory to Joey who's a huge liar,his creation isn't one.

Nothing he says is misleading, neither he intends it to be. He either tells truth directly or projects onto people.

At the moment Audrey is the only one character he has a couple of completely honest moments with:

"He's lying, Audrey..." (about Wilson)

"They promised us peace,but they bring us only more pain" (about Wilson and the Keepers)

He drops the act of sounding threating here and says it as calm as he can. He stops it only after she says "be quiet".

He was shut down when he wanted to do a genuinely good thing in a long time; after that,he won't say anything similar anymore.

7. DR Beast Bendy

The ink demon doesn't need someone's soul (whatever this concept means in canon) to transform, which is backed up by Batim; him wanting to become one with Audrey is not related to this.

The ink demon wants to feel perfect and loved, using Audrey for this (who had almost everything he didn't) is the closest thing to perfection he can do.

He became one with "Joey's greatest creation" only to feel perfect. He wants to "give her purpose" only because he feels like he doesn't has one.

It goes from a really sentimental place which has made this scene look cheesy or weird to some people; but we're talking about 'unlovable' character who was completely abandoned by people

I also doubt that he couldn't fight for control in his own body, resetting the cycle is something that he has accepted at the end of the day (even without wanting it to happen)

8. DR Toon Bendy

Personally I interpret him as one person, there's nothing in canon right now that says that it's Jekyll & Hyde situation.

He's still the ink demon but smaller and weaker,as thekeepers say in their logs. This form is designated as "toon bendy" but it was never said that they were able to create another personality.

After signal towers forced the ink demon into the 'toon' form,he simply walks away from Audrey. He knows that she wouldn't want to see him after that.

If they indeed were different personalities, toon Bendy would have no reason to do so; we know from Buddy Boris that two personalities in one body have different values and don't blame themselves for something another one did.

I don't think that his behaviour was "manipulative" or "pretendious",it feels as it misses the point of his character.

He acts the way people would expect toon Bendy to act, the way Joey expected him to be. He has the looks for it and he can get positive attention he never had before.

People loved Bendy in cartoons. Audrey was happy to see Bendy and wanted to spend time with him/protect him.

I see this as him playing the role that he could never fullfil before. As I've mentioned earlier, even when looking as himself he still has small moments of honesty/vulnerability.

9. The cycle

(based on personal speculations from BATDR)

"...Here, you'll find the meaning in your pain.

This voice line is one of my favourites, i also can see it as him projecting. Possibly he has tried to find the meaning for himself or for why everything has went the way it is.

The cycle is the only one thing that belongs to him, he takes control over it and has no one who'd command him (especially after Joey's death)

He's the most important entity in it and everyone are either scared or worship him.

I can see the cycle as something that also gives him sense of stability/"privileges" which would explain why he was against resetting it even after Wilson's influence.

Outside of this,he had no idea what Audrey would do to him after she'll leave the cycle; she doesn't communicate anything and he was left in the dark.

10. "The end"

"...You see, there's only one thing Bendy has never known: He was there for his beginning, but he's never seen... The End." (Joey Drew, batim ch 5)

I always liked that "the end" reel is his only one weakness. It makes perfect sense because Bendy's a cartoon character and JDS has closed without release of any "goodbye" episode.

But it also makes a lot of sense for ink demon's origins. He saw his beginning but he never got a happy ending.

Every loop ends with the ink demon looking at Henry's face and reaching to him before the reset; it continues in BATDR in similar way.

I've mentioned "The tombstone picnic" (1929) cartoon earlier and it feels like batim's ending was written by Joey this way on purpose.

One huge difference is that in cartoon Bendy was happy to see Henry but in the loop it's written off as a negative thing.

Henry is the one who brought "the end" to Bendy

Studio has started it's slow downfall right after Henry has left. He was way more important than Joey wanted to admit.

Joey has blamed Henry for almost everything,he likely blamed him for this too,so it makes sense why the cycle ends this way; it reflects what has happened in reality

TL;DR:

The ink demon didn't came out the way that was expected but he's still (obviously) is Bendy. After Joey has figured out that it's impossible to 'fix' him, he closes him in the cycle and puts into the role of the main antagonist.

The ink demon embraced this role and doesn't see himself more than a mistake and a monster (which he projects onto Audrey in DR)

~~~~~~~~

I'm always open to discussion if you've noticed that i missed or misinterpret something!

Thank you if you've read it to the end! I really appreciate that you've decided to spare some time for me

Also TY @cr33ping-cr34tv3r for inspiring me to finish it! :)

#batim #bendy and the ink machine #batdr #bendy and the dark revival #ink demon #bendy #bendy the dancing demon #joey drew #audrey drew #henry stein #wilson arch #my post

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lacedinweb22 · 9 months

Text

Drunk and Crushing (Pt. 2) (Miguel O’Hara x reader)

🕸️ Entangled Series 🕸️ ch. 5 prev part

Summary: After you escape the chaos of the party and find shelter in the downstairs bathroom with Miguel, you get bold. You’re both drunk and vulnerable. Your feelings are impossible to ignore… or hide.

CW: self sabotage, retching, oblivious & painful character behavior, drunkenness >:)

Author’s note: I made this playlist of muffled tracks that I listened to NONSTOP while writing this chapter! PLEASE listen to them in the playlist’s order while reading! They fit the scenes so WELLL and the lyrics match the mood perfectly ❤️‍🔥

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLrEXY2MI6p5edEO8pLnkNilq65067VNUu

✩♬ ₊˚.🎧⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

We found an unoccupied bathroom downstairs. There was still an overwhelming amount of drunk university students filling the house, but this shelter sufficed. Kendrick Lamar’s “LOVE” played, muffled and seeping through the walls. I sat myself on the bathtub edge, feeling myself get heavier; the drunkenness had creeped up on me.

I paused my overwhelming thought traffic and looked up at Miguel, who was leaning back against the sink counter. He gripped the edge of the counter; his fingers tightly flexed, displaying his muscular, bruised up hands.

The restroom was dark, lit only by a small purple lamp; there was still enough light to see the pink in my cheeks and the red and purple in his knuckles.

He looked down at me as I scanned his entire figure: his muscles, scars, his clothes. I circled back to his eyes; he was so much higher above me, his gaze looking down on me. It felt so… dirty. He tilted his head at me, questioning my gaze. I looked away nervously, realizing how it looked. I looked down at the soda can still in my hand.

“This can is so dented, did you drop it?” I asked, laughing. He looked at the can, then back at me, “No, yes, I– yeah, I dropped it. Some douche bumped into me,” he explained, suspiciously slow. “Hmph,” I scoffed. “Wait a minute… that reminds me, wheredidyou go earlier formysoda? You were gone forawhile. You just disappeared. You’vebeendoingthat alotlately. Disappearing. Ditching me.” The slurred words escaped me so easily.

“I…a… friend called me outside to… deal with this fight that was breaking out, and I… had to stop it. So I, you know, went out and reasoned with them, worked it out,” he explained, nodding, reassuring himself that his story was believable. I continued, “Mmmmkay… and our study date– sessions you couldn’t make it to? That you canceled on or ditched after a few minutes? What’s the excuse for those?” “I told you, my brother has a shitty car and I’m the one he calls to work on it.” I rolled my eyes. “Gabriel’s a fucking tech god. A literal engineer, right? But okay, sure, whatever you say Miguel,” I muttered, shaking my head, and rubbing my tired eyes.

“I mean if you have… like a girl, or… a sneakylink, or whatever just fucking say it. I mean it’sfine, O’Hara, you’re my friend. We can talk about thesekindsofthings,” I insisted, bitterly.

“There’s absolutely no girl,” he replied, firmly. “The only girl, who is actively in my life— who I want in my life, is you. You’re the girl, okay? You’re the sneakylink minus thesneaky. You’re the link. But not sex, I mean you’re thegirl I want to hangoutwith–” he drunkenly blurted.

“I’m the girl?” I repeated, hiding my smile in my hands. Though I didn’t believe he was gone breaking up a fight, my pounding heart overpowered my confusion; listening to him stumble over his words made my stomach burst with butterflies. “So you–” or with alcohol. I dropped to my knees and puked into the toilet. “Fuck, Y/N,” Miguel exclaimed, as he dropped to the floor with me. He brushed my hair back and held it in his hand. I groaned. Yep, I’m fucked. I’m so drunk. He rubbed my back. He grabbed his water bottle and aided it to my lips.

“I mean since we’re asking all these questions, who was that guy you met up with earlier?” he asked, still holding my hair. “Mmm funny you assume it was a guy… do you mean Jenn?” I breathed out into the toilet bowl, ready to vomit again. He breathed out, relieved. “Whatwas that?” I questioned, turning around looking up at him. “What, what?” he replied, acting clueless. “You breathed out like ughhhHHHHH,” I mimicked.

“Shhhh! Stop moaning, people are going to think we’re fucking in here. They’re right outside the door,” he blurted out, trying to shush me. I’m so drunk. My body was not obeying me. Maybe the subconscious version of me deep inside, but not the me I needed it to obey.

“I wish we were.” FUCK. I caught myself, “I wishwewere… back home” FUCK. “At my apartment so we couldddd play videogames. Hahaha yeah…” I finished off quietly, staring at him, waiting for him to shut me down. Fucking drunk idiot, stop talking, shut up. His eyebrows knit together as his eyes explored my face, trying to decipher the words slurring out of my mouth. “Okay, Y/N,” he breathed out, brushing my hair back, “you’re…drunk,” he said, looking at my hair in his hands. I hate him. My head felt heavier.

I could absolutely not keep my thoughts inside. Fucking drunk word vomit.

My eyes brushed his. God I wish you knew. “God I wish you knew.”

“Knew what?” he responded, his eyes reignited with curiosity. “What?” I responded. “You said you wish I knew,” he responded, grabbing my shoulder, trying to shake the drunkenness and truth out of me.

“Oh shit, was that out… loud?” I breathed out, holding back my vomit. “I don’tknow maybe that… I wish you knewwhatIwasthinking, or maybe I wishyoufeltwhat I feel…” I closed my eyes, my mouth defeated my common sense. “I mean come ONNN, Miguel, you’re so good at physics, and shit, but you– you don’t see this? You solve all those equations, but you can’t figure this out? Nope, obliviousMiguel, hahahhshsifhmm, remember when you called me oblivious? Ironic,” I slurred, smiling with my eyes closed.

I leaned into the toilet again to retch. I barfed what seemed like a gallon of soda and tequila. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, holding my hair and rubbing my back. “I’m sorry, this is my fault, I should’ve been watching you, I-I should have watched how much you drank,” he scolded himself. He sat on his knees behind me, much taller than me, then lowered his head to rest on my shoulder, still holding my hair. His cheek pressed against the back of my shoulder, then he slowly turned, his lips now pressing against me. He’s drunk. My face remained hovering into the toilet. There was a lot going on.

“Ugh that was it. That was the one,” I groaned. I started to stand up, as Miguel remained on his knees. He wrapped his big hands around my waist to help me up. Once I stood up, I chugged mouthwash and rinsed the bitter taste away. I turned to find Miguel sitting on the floor, against the wall, staring at me, longingly. His eyes were darker, different. His cheeks were pink, his face dewy.

“I’m feeling it,” he muttered, looking up at me. I walked over to him, standing above him, as he looked up at me. “Very good. Now we can be in the same place,” I said, mischievously smiling down at him.

“We’ve always beenin thesame place, just at different times… I don’t know what I’m saying,” he groaned as he rested his face in his hands. I handed him the water bottle. “Drink some, Mig.” He nodded and drank.

“I feel so gross and sweaty,” I groaned. “Is it weird to shower here? I’ll ask Lizzie,” I muttered. I strained my brain power to call Lizzie to ask if I could use the shower. This shower should sober me up. It needs to.

“I got the greenlight!!” I exclaimed to Miguel. He remained silently sitting resting his face in his hands. I crouched down in between his legs. “Mig, are you okay?” “Just tired, and… drunk,” he breathed out.

“Okay, I’m gonna take a shower, but you sit here. Give me five minutes.” He got up, closed the toilet, and sat. I stood in front of him, as he remained sitting on the toilet. He watched and seemingly admired me as I pinned my hair up.

“I’m going to change my clothes in the shower, before I turn on the water. Do you think I could hand you my clothes?” I asked. He nodded, with loyal puppy dog eyes.

I took off my socks and shoes then got into the tub and closed the shower curtain. “Fuck, it’s slippery,” I gasped, almost slipping. “Be careful. No, wait, you’re drunk. Maybe this isn’t such a great idea,” he responded, his voice getting louder as he stood up. I could see his shadow through the curtain. “I’ll be fine,” I responded. I began taking off my jewelry and placing it into his hand, which peeked through the curtain as he looked away.

I then took off my dress, and handed it to him. Then my bra, and finally my underwear.

“You’re so obedient,” I teased, giving him my panties. I placed it slowly into his hand. I watched his fingertips feel for a hint of what he was feeling, then his grip tightened as he finally looked down to see what it was. “Yeah… well, that’sthe effect you haveonme,” he slurred as he looked down at my lace underwear. He quickly looked back up and placed it on the counter without looking. He’s drunk.

“Shit Miguel, it’s catching up to you, I mean it caught up to you” I laughed, as I started the water and stood in the corner of the shower, peeking out at him. He sat back down, looking at his hands in his lap. The steam began to fill the restroom.

I heard shuffling and peeked to find Miguel taking off his moto jacket. He was now just wearing his snug form-fitting t-shirt. His back muscles were so fucking visible now. I watched him from behind the curtain, his muscles flexing as he adjusted his shirt. I admired his huge biceps being squeezed through the snug cotton sleeves, and his veiny forearms resting in his lap. It’s like he’s testing the durability of his fucking shirt.

He took a deep breath then looked back up at me to find me watching him. “Sorry– I,” I muttered as he immediately looked back down at his hands as I closed the curtain and started to soak myself in the warm water.

I stared at the tile walls when a huge shadow towered over me through the curtain. “Miguel? Are you… there, and okay?” I asked, nervously. “I just need… to stand up. I’m fucked up,” he muttered. I peeked out of the curtain. He was pacing back and forth in the small restroom, his eyes furrowed as he stretched an arm across his chest. He looked at me, his gaze softened, then nervously looked down and turned around to keep pacing.

I rinsed off then turned off the water. “Miguel, could you–” “Here,” he replied as he handed me a towel through the curtains. “Okay, I’m goingto come out, but you’re going to need to close your eyes,” I warned. “Got it,” he replied. “Are they closed?” “Yes.”

I slowly got out of the tub, and stood on the mat. He was facing me, eyes closed. I dried off, then took off my towel and hung it up. As I let my hair down and slowly slid my underwear on, I felt a burst of daringness. That shower didn’t sober me up enough. “Can you help me… ummm put my bra on?” I muttered. “What? Your–” “Bra, yes. And you also need to zip my dress up. That’s the Y/N-coming-to-a-party-with-you tax,” “so this is a commonly paid tax,” he muttered. Is he jealous? I smiled at the thought. “You’re so dumb. No. Only you,” I muttered, as I watched his lips fight a smile, “Miguel, just… shut up and help me.” I grabbed his hands, as his eyes remained closed and put them on my shoulders.

“Okay, see here are myshoulders. I’m going toturnaround, then youaregoing to go down to myback and feelmybra and hookit okay?” I breathed out. “Okay,” he responded, quietly. I turned around as his hands brushed my back. He moved my hair to the side of my neck, then traced his fingers down my back to find my bra. His warm, calloused hands brushed against my skin. Chills shot through my body. “Fuck,” I breathed out, accidentally. “What? What did I do?” he asked quickly. “Nothing, I was just— nothing,” I blurted. He scoffed then took a deep breath.

He hooked it. “Okay, now dress,” I pulled the dress up, and turned for him to zip it from the back. “Reach your hands out again,” I instructed. His hands touched my hair, then brushed down to the zipper right above my ass. His knuckles brushed my underwear then up my back as he zipped it slowly.

I turned around. His eyes were still closed, his cheeks growing pink. I tiptoed so I was closer to his face. I looked up at his lips. I could kiss him so easily right now. His eyebrows scrunched, “Are you almost ready? Is it okay?” he whispered. “Mhmm,” I whispered back, facing him. I leaned closer to his lips. He breathed through his nose, his warm breath caressing my lips. I want to kiss you so bad. I took a deep breath. You’re drunk. I lowered my heels back to the ground.

“You can look now,” I sighed, as I looked in the mirror and fixed my smudged eyeliner.

He watched me, his reflection in my peripheral vision. He sat back on the toilet and turned to watch me put my necklaces on.

I finished, then walked to him. I stood in between his legs. He looked up at me then down at my neck. “I like the new one. I see you replaced the one you gave me,” he whispered, pulling the black cord necklace I gave him from out under his shirt. I traced my fingertips around it, smiling down at him. He still wears it. He raised his fingertips to my neck then whispered, “Can I?” I nodded. I kneeled down, our faces now level to each other.

He traced his fingers along my necklace. “So beautiful,” he whispered, looking at my necklace then up to my lips.

I leaned closer into him. His fingertips traced from my necklace to my cheek, caressing my burning, flushed skin. This is so new. I sighed, my stomach overwhelmed with butterflies.

“I can hear your heart racing,” he whispered. “What— how?” I whispered, putting my hand on my chest to feel it. “I… have great hearing, you know this, my senses are impeccable,” he replied, shrugging. “If only your amazing senses extended to mind reading,” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

“You know, Y/N, I can read you… most of the time,” he said, brushing my hair out of my face. “Okay, then what am I thinking right now?” “I have my guesses,” he replied, looking at my lips then up into my eyes. His longing eyes painted him desperate. Does he mean it? What is he thinking?

Miguel leaned in; I followed, leaning in slowly, our lips close to touching. Is he going to do what I was too scared to? His thumb traced my cheek, as he looked back and forth between my lips and eyes.

Our lips finally met.

And it was everything I dreamt it to be. The kiss was warm, and raw, no holding back, just drunk honest passion. His lips were soft, and he tasted like dr. pepper. He’s so addictive; I want to stay here forever. No confusion, or self-doubt, just him and I in our small corner of this chaotic party.

I stroked his face, then combed my fingers into his waves, my thumb never losing contact with his cheek. The kiss intensified as he grabbed my waist, pulling me closer, and kissing me harder.

Eventually, to my disappointment, our lips gently parted.

“Y/N,” he breathed out, “I’ve wanted this… for so long,” he whispered, his eyes drowsy. I searched his gaze. He looked like he meant it. But he’s drunk. A wave of anxiety crashed onto me, disrupting the bliss I had been chasing for so long.

He doesn’t want me. He’s drunk. This shouldn’t have happened like this.

“You don’t mean that, no, we can’t– we can’t,” I groaned, pulling away. “Yes, we can… Why not?” he replied softly and drunkenly, his eyes still drowsy. His hand reached to mine as he held it in between us.

He read my face then looked at me worriedly, snapping out of it. “Fuck, I’m sorry, was that not okay? Did I–” he rambled, panicking. “I’m sorry, I’m drunk… you know, I didn’t… I didn’t mean to,” I whispered.

“Well that sucks. I… really wish you did,” he muttered, looking at me, confused.

I remained on my knees, looking down at my hand in his. His eyes were stuck on mine, trying to read me.

Overwhelming silence filled the small restroom; not even the music bleeding into the room could save us.

I reasoned desperately, “I just– I know you don’t want this, you know? I know you don’t like me like that… you don’t mean it— I know you don–”

His eyebrows furrowed, “And why couldn’t I like you? How would you know?” he asked, irritated. I pulled my hand from his as I stood up, away from him.

“Because, you don’t want this! You’re drunk, Miguel. You don’t get to have this when you’re drunk and it’s fun and convenient for you since I’m the only one around,” I blurted, angrily.

I looked down at him; he looked up at me confused. He closed his eyes, looked down, took a deep breath, then whispered, “Y/N, you don’t know what I want. I want you— and I’m confused, why can’t you just let me… I want you. Why can’t we try, why can’t we just give this–”

“Miguel, you’re not getting it. I am just a spur of the moment type of thing to you! This is real to me, and to you this is just drunkenness–”

“Y/N, I’m not–”

“Yes, Miguel, you are drunk,”

“Stop putting words into my mouth! I am drunk but I want you, sober or not!”

Silence.

“I just… I have to feel this way, everyday. These feelings of desperation, an-and longing for you every single moment of every single day every time I see you, knowing I can’t have you, and you don’t want me like that… this isn’t fair,” I exclaimed, turning around to the sink, “You disappear, you come back, cheeks flushed, I mean, Miguel, who were you really with? Who do you leave me for? Stop lying to me, just tell me the truth, that’s all I want, just tell me…”

I looked down, trying to control my anger and the tears I felt welling up. “Forget it, forget it.” I can’t handle the lies he’s going to feed to me. Or the truth.

He stood up, hovering over me as I cried silently over the sink. “Did you not see all 100 frat boys watching you walk into here? Do you not see me trying to keep you near me, away from them? There’s only you—” he argued, drunkenly but still firmly. “God, Miguel, everyone was looking at you! How fucking oblivious are you? Everyone that wants you and everyone who wishes they were being looked at by all of those beautiful girls. They. Were. Looking. At. You,” I exclaimed. “They’re jealous I’m with YOU,” he exclaimed back. He’s fucking delusional. “Sure, yeah, that makes alotttt of sense! Yeah, definitely,” I scoffed. “You’re ridiculous,” he sharply replied, turning away.

I sighed and shook my head. He doesn’t get it.

Or maybe I just ruined everything.

“I–I have to go, I need to– need to go home,” I whispered as I reached for the door. His hand grabbed my wrist.

“No, just… stay,” he whispered.

I turned and looked up at him. He stood against me, his hand still gripping my wrist. He looked down at me, his eyebrows furrowed upwards, begging me, “Please,” he continued, “this one time… for me.”

That could be enough for me to stay.

I looked down and closed my eyes. Tears rolled down my cheeks. “Y/N, we can’t say ‘goodnight’ and still be mad at each other,” he explained, “Can you listen to me, can you just let me explain–”

The door began to rattle against my back as someone knocked violently on the other side. Miguel sighed as we both moved out of the way and opened the door. A couple looked at us grumpily. We both grabbed our stuff then left the restroom.

I sped walked through the crowd.

“Y/N, please, let’s just talk some– somewhere quiet, just the two of us. You can’t leave upset, that’s our #1 rule, and I don’t want you walking alone, especially not after what happened last month,” he called out behind me.

I turned around, as we stood in a large crowd looking across at each other. The neon lights lit up his face in the dark. If I wasn’t so drunk, and so upset with him, if I ignored the truth, the fact that he’s hiding something from me, I would kiss him. I would let the lights and the music blind and deafen me, because it wouldn’t matter. All I would feel is him. But I am drunk, and I know he’s lying.

We were in a chaotic bubble of people pushing and drinking, but I could only see him. He looked at me desperately, as I kept my face stern. “Y/N, I’ll explain— why I’ve been disappearing, I just—” “You don’t need to. Not anymore. I can’t keep pretending this ‘us’ and ‘ours’ thing isn’t tearing me up inside. And… it’s fine, I’ll be fine. I need to be alone.”

I walked out, called a cab, and waited outside on the lawn surrounded by loud drunk people. I cried, hugging myself as I watched Miguel walk drunkenly, down the street and into the night.

to be continued…

next part

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

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effortandmore · 1 year

Text

worth all your while (ch.1) | knj x reader

summary: you know kim namjoon from your work, but running into him outside of seoul tips your relationship into new territory and your world upside down. eventually, you wonder how there can be a million ways to say "i love you," and namjoon, a literal genius, can't manage a single one when it comes to you. or: 5 times namjoon can't make himself say "i love you" but thinks you understand him anyway (you do not), and then the one time he gets it right

pairing: namjoon x f!reader

rating: explicit (18+ please)

genre: smut, fluff, light angst, au: famous, but not an idol

warnings: smut, swearing, alcohol, here are the specific smut tags for this chapter: kissing, penetrative sex, fingering, spanking, sex in an airport bathroom (do not recommend, fwiw)

word count: ~5.5k

a/n: idk what to say! i needed to write a fic for yoongi's birthday, but i can't for some reason, so i'm writing this. i hope you enjoy 💜 i'll update chapters probably weekly, maybe bi-weekly, isn't it fun when some things in life are mysteries? the title is from "static" by steve lacy - i love him. thank you as always to the cabal: @ugh-yoongi, @hot-soop, and @the-boy-meets-evil for putting your eyes on this for me. love you all. this is posted to ao3 here if you like to read fics there.

next chapter

Unpopular opinion: airports are magical places.

You didn’t always think that, but you’ve changed. Opinion swayed. All it took was one delay on a layover in London for you to start singing a different tune.

Seoul to anywhere feels like a long flight lately. You love it there, but getting out, back to where you’re from, takes literal days. The short break at Heathrow is welcome, a chance to move around a little before you get on another almost ten hour flight. It seems like a nothing thing, to wander through the concourses and shops after you’ve made it through the customs check. Each time you’re here is the same as the last. Until it’s not. You’ve done it a hundred times: sniff different scents at Jo Malone, look for a bag you shouldn’t spend the money on at Louis Vuitton, talk yourself out of buying duty-free scotch because you know you’d never drink it in front of your mother anyway… Maybe on the way home, you think (but you never do).

“Excuse me.” You’re staring at the Balvenie you can’t really afford, thoughts drifting, when someone startles you.

“Sorry,” you mumble, stepping to the side.

There’s a man there, right there. He’s stepped up close so that your arms are practically touching. He’s tall, with dark hair under a beanie, an expensive jacket that’s made to look like it isn’t, and his face hidden under a mask that isn’t required here. There’s something about him, even though you can only see a stripe of his face, that looks familiar. For some reason, neither of you move; he keeps staring at the thousand-pound bottle of scotch, and you keep staring at him.

“You can’t drink it on the plane, you know?” You say it more than you ask it, and of course he knows. Everyone knows. But you see the corners of his eyes crinkle a little and you think he’s smiling under the mask. He finally turns to look at you.

“Was thinking I’d get it as a gift,” he explains, shrugging his shoulders.

“Nice gift,” you remark.

“Yeah…” he replies, turning his attention back to the bottle. “It’s pretentious, isn’t it?”

And at that, you smile. “Maybe a little. Depends on who it’s for.”

“No one special.”

“It’s none of my business,” you say, “but I wouldn’t buy ‘no one special’ a hundred-pound bottle of scotch, let alone a thousand-pound bottle.”

The man laughs, and you notice another guy walk up, right next to him. He’s bigger, older, and way too serious looking for your taste. They seem to have a silent conversation and then the would-be whisky buyer turns back to you. “Time for my flight,” he says. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Anytime,” you nod, still smiling even though you can’t tell anymore if he’s smiling back. Can’t hurt to be polite.

After he goes, you realize you aren’t going to buy the scotch, either, and it’s probably about time for your flight, too, so you start the scramble to your gate.

One of the bad things about flying all the time is that you feel like you see more than your fair share of delays. And this trip is no different. When you make it to the gate, you can sense the panic before you even see the notification. There’s a particular brand of hysteria that sets in with people when their flights are delayed, and it’s amplified with inter-continental flights in your experience. All of the things that make airports romantic and interesting are the same things that make people think they can behave any way they want and it won’t matter. It's like upon entering, people think they get carte blanche to be raging assholes to the poor airline counter guy who’s just trying to make sure everyone gets where they’re going and probably only makes enough to barely pay his rent.

So, you know before you’re told that there’s a delay, and you can tell by the level ten panic around you that it’s probably a long one. It’s confirmed when you see the headlines across one of the large televisions at the gate. Big storm off the coast of the Eastern US. All flights are delayed from what you can tell. Yours looks to have a delay of about six hours, but you know from experience it could be more. You’ll just have to wait and see. You’re lucky, you want to get home, but there’s really not a huge rush on your end, so you can wait it out if you need to.

There’s a quiet spot at a gate with no pending flight, near yours and a few of the other gates with international flights scheduled to leave. You hate sitting, knowing you’ve done it for a half a day already and have another long flight (eventually) in front of you, but you don’t know what else to do and at least you have a couple books in your carry on.

Maybe thirty minutes passes of you reading when you look up, just to see how things are settling around you as people start to either (like you) become resigned to the fact that they’re not going anywhere for a while, or let their anger hit a fever pitch with the gate agent.

You see a familiar fancy jacket waiting near the ticket counter, his friend from earlier having an animated chat with a woman who doesn’t seem like she speaks enough Korean to be keeping up. Fancy Coat is watching, looking amused and not chiming in, even though you know firsthand he can speak English perfectly well, and could probably be a help to his travel companion.

Because you’re one of those people who can never do things as subtly as you think you do, you’re caught out—Nice Jacket turns his head and his eyes lock with yours before you can look away; he knows you’re watching. He tilts his head, eyes widening with what you hope is amusement and not terror that you were looking. Slowly, he brings his hand up and waves at you, then gives you a gesture like he wants you to wait for something before he leans in and says something to his friend.

You turn back to your book, embarrassed.

A considerable chunk of whatever willpower you have is used in Not Looking when you hear (and feel) someone plop into the chair next to you.

“Good book?” Nice Jacket asks.

“Mmhmm,” you murmur, trying not to make things any weirder than you’ve already made them by staring. It is, in fact, not a good book. But your colleague wrote it, and he’s the special kind of narcissist that will ask you what you thought of it every day you see him until you provide some sort of satisfactory feedback kissing his ass.

“That guy’s a jackass,” he comments.

And that gets your attention. You turn to him, a little surprised. “You know him?”

Nice Jacket nods, eyebrows raised. “Do you not remember me?” he asks.

“From the duty-free shop?”

He laughs, louder than he means to judging by how he stops himself and looks around self-consciously. “No… I think you’ve interviewed me before…”

Things begin to snap into place rapidly. Because now that he says it, he goes from looking vaguely familiar to being instantly recognizable. You don’t really keep up with him or his music, but you have interviewed him, when your asshole colleague had passed one of his assignments to your desk, assuming you’d “like that kind of thing.”

At the time, you’d tried not to let yourself assume the worst about what he meant, and you did the interview over Zoom with no protest to your coworker or your boss. It wasn’t the kind of thing your magazine usually wrote about, but the article was focused on his art collection, and it gave you a good opportunity to learn something you wouldn’t have in a gossip magazine, and a chance to look good for your boss. The whole thing hadn’t lasted more than eight minutes, professional and easier than most of your interviews. Since then, you’ve been in the same room as him a few times at events you’d covered, exchanged greetings and appreciations on both sides for the article, and obviously, you know who he is.

He’s famous, but not like… idol famous. Stage name RM, he’s a rapper and producer who works with a small collective. You see him in magazines and on TV, his popularity growing over the last few years less for his music and more for his work in art preservation.

“Oh my god…” you say, closing your book and dropping your voice to a whisper. “Kim Namjoon. I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.”

“Good,” he says with a wink. “That’s the point.” He gestures vaguely to his beanie and his mask and the sunglasses he took off when he sat down next to you.

“How are you?” you ask, because it’s polite, and that’s what you should do, even though you’re not even sure why he’s sitting here speaking to you.

“Alright,” he says, but you notice he seems a little amused.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He raises his hands defensively.

“No, what? Why’s it funny to ask how you’re doing?”

Namjoon doesn’t say anything for a second, just watches you with his head cocked. “I guess no one ever really asks me that,” he says.

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous.”

What’s more ridiculous is that you’re sitting in Heathrow having a conversation with this sort of famous person who you kind of know, but not in a “run into you in the airport and have a casual chat” kind of way. Or maybe it is like that, because that’s exactly what happens.

You talk about how he’s doing (pretty well but tired from traveling and ready to be settled in his hotel). Then you talk about your asshole coworker and his not-very-good book. You laugh at a story he tells you about said coworker, and you feel your face heat up when he says how relieved he was that you interviewed them instead of anyone else from your magazine, and how much he’d liked talking to you that day. He’s bluntly honest with you about his preference for doing interviews with Korean-language publications, which you completely understand. He tells you that he didn’t mind doing an interview for your small English-language one because you at least greeted him in Korean and tried out a couple questions in the language.

“It’s my job to make people feel comfortable,” you say flippantly. It’s true, it is your job, and you talk to a lot of sort-of-famous people and their people, so you know that at the end of the day, they’re just people. You get better results and better interviews when you treat them as such. When you tell Namjoon that, you can see him grinning under his mask, you can tell for sure this time by the way the corners of his eyes pinch.

“That’s a nice way to think of it,” he finally says. “It’s good to be treated like Namjoon and not RM sometimes.”

“Happy to be of service,” you say.

Before you can say more, you’re interrupted by his friend, who you now understand isn’t exactly a friend but a manager or a bodyguard or some combination of both. He explains that it’ll be a few hours, that there aren’t any other flight options, and that he and Namjoon can go make themselves a little more comfortable in the airport lounge. It’s spoken like a suggestion, but the way he side-eyes you as he speaks makes you certain it’s more of a directive. Namjoon nods along until his manager tells him, in hushed Korean, that he can’t just sit out in the open talking to strangers.

“She’s not a stranger,” he says, clearly pleased with himself.

After a brief explanation that you’re an acquaintance (which is how Namjoon puts it and is a little more generous than you would have been), his manager lightens up, and even keeps his mouth shut when Namjoon invites you to come with them to the lounge. He does, however, insist on walking alongside you when you agree to go with them, making Namjoon walk a little ways in front of you both. Better safe than sorry, you suppose, even though no one seems to be paying any attention to the three of you.

At the lounge, his manager has a brief conversation with the airline employee at the desk, and then the three of you are whisked through the entrance, past the service desk and the bar, and into a small, private room at the back of the lounge. Namjoon puts his bag down and moves to the coffee machine, pausing to ask if you want anything as he fumbles with the stack of cups there. Cute. The professional in you hates that you even had that thought pass through your mind, but the rest of you doesn’t mind. He is cute, he gets paid to be cute (at least partially), he knows he’s cute. You have eyes, so obviously you see it, too.

His manager unceremoniously pulls an eye mask and headphones out of his bag, seats himself in the corner, and announces he’s going to try and sleep and to wake him up if anything interesting happens, leaving the two of you essentially on your own.

When you have your drinks, you pull your masks off, settle into loungers in the opposite corner of the room, and start talking again. It comes easily between the two of you—you’re used to asking questions and he’s used to answering them. He’s going to New York for a “personal schedule,” and you don’t ask for more details because you know he wouldn’t give them to you anyway. His whole face lights up when he tells you about an exhibit at the Whitney he’s hoping to catch, about how he’s willing to suffer through the jet lag for a glimpse at a certain Hockney that he probably won’t ever see in Korea.

Eventually, the tables turn a little, and he starts asking you about your own life. It’s less interesting (in your opinion) than his, but he’s a good listener, and asks good questions. He seems really excited (and remembers, to your surprise) that you’re an arts reporter, asks what you’re writing about lately, asks if you’ve seen anything new that caught your eye, even asks you for gallery recommendations around Seoul. You have a few, and he actually jots down notes in his literal notebook while you speak, claiming he’ll forget which you recommended if he doesn’t write it down. Cute again.

Hours pass, and you’d swear it’s only been a few minutes. It’s been a long time since you talked with someone like this—leisurely, candidly (or as candid as he can be, anyway). You get food brought to you by an airline employee, and you know it’s an upgrade from what’s being served in the rest of the lounge, but Namjoon isn’t phased at all. You suppose this is his normal, so there’s nothing out of the ordinary for him.

“I can’t believe you get special food,” you say when you’ve finished.

“Special food?”

“Well yeah, they’re not serving anything other than soup and crackers out there. Maybe carrot sticks.”

“Oh…” he says quietly, brow furrowed, like he’s really thinking about it. “Do you think I should ask them to bring barbeque to everyone else?” You actually think he means it. So fucking cute, you think.

After you talk him out of wielding his influence, mostly using the argument that it would be an immense amount of work for the airline staff, you settle in again. He produces a blanket from a cabinet against one of the walls of the room, and it’s an obvious sign this whole experience is totally typical for him. When he hands you the blanket, you can’t help it, you smile at him and probably look a little smitten. You might just be.

You offer him part of the blanket, and he accepts, pulling it over his lap and asking you if he took too much. (He didn’t). You talk more, and you feel relaxed with him—it’s so easy to forget he’s who he is and you’re who you are. It’s just like getting to know any other casual acquaintance better except he’s stupid good-looking and you start to notice that your faces are a lot closer together than they started out as you talk about Marci Kwon and the interesting work that the Asian American Art Initiative is doing. It was the last article you’d written, and you’re surprised to hear he’s read it.

You’re saying something about non-hierarchical modes of presenting research in art when you realize he’s not listening anymore, just staring at you intently. You’ve been talking a lot. For a while… Maybe talking too much; maybe he’s bothered.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

His eyes widen like he’s the one who’s been caught-out this time. “I’m really good,” he says, almost like he’s surprising himself.

It makes you beam. “Good,” you say. “I’ve liked talking to you.”

He nods. “I’ve liked talking to you, too. You have a lot to say.”

The fact that you can feel his breath on your face when he speaks makes you certain that you’re sitting too close, that something is happening that probably shouldn’t be. It makes you forget that “you have a lot to say” isn’t always a good thing. You think that everything might sound good when it comes from his mouth, that even the worst insult would trickle out like honey. Your heart rate has picked up, you now notice, and you both keep just staring at each other—you don’t know why you don’t move or look away, it’s like you can’t even though you know you should.

Namjoon’s eyes flick up behind you to where his manager is, and you can hear the man snoring, so you know he’s not aware at all of what’s happening right in front of him.

“They don’t have cameras in here,” Namjoon says. “It’s why we come here.”

You nod, nothing to say to that—you’re not even sure why he said it unless…

“Can I kiss you?”

That is the exact moment when every coherent and rational thought you have ever had rushes out of your brain like a waterfall. You’re not even sure how you manage to respond, but this very cute, very smart, very interesting person has just expressed interest in you of all people, and you’d be an idiot not to say yes.

“Oh my god, please,” you say all in one hurried breath.

And before you’re even finished, his lips are on yours. It’s soft, more chaste than you’d expected, but it doesn’t stay that way when he nips at your bottom lip and licks into your mouth. One of his hands comes to the back of your neck, fingers teasing at your hair and pulling you closer as you practically melt into him. It’s a good kiss, a fantastic kiss, and all you can think is more, more, more as the two of you try and do your best to be as close as you can over the armrests of the stupid lounge chairs.

When you part, his eyes are a little wild, and you think yours must be, too.

“I have to wake him up soon,” he says, looking past you. “It’s almost time for our flight.”

You glance over your shoulder at his manager who’s still totally unaware of what’s happening around him, and then stand, offering a hand to Namjoon, too.

It’s a rare moment of boldness, but something’s come over you, and you’re acting with very little thought as to what you’re doing and how stupid it probably is. “Come on,” you say, tugging him up. When he’s standing right in front of you, you put your hands on his chest and raise up on your tiptoes to whisper, “Let’s get out of here for a minute.”

He wipes across his bottom lip with his thumb, pausing probably to think about what you’re implying, and then he bends to kiss you quickly before he agrees. “Okay, yeah, let’s go.”

It’s not your fault that you know where the ‘family restroom’ is—you passed by it on the way to the back of the lounge and you notice things, you remember things.

You hope he doesn’t think you do this kind of thing all the time, or ever, although you don’t know why you care what he thinks since you’re also willfully oblivious to any looks you might be getting from any passersby who see you tug him into the room behind you.

It’s sheer luck that your go-to travel outfit is a fairly basic knit dress. It takes him no time to have you pinned up against the door, lips on your neck, hand rucking up the front of your dress so that he can get a hand under your tights. God, it feels good. He feels good, large and solid and his fingers… fuck. They’re long and nimble and he’s clearly not new to this, but neither are you, so you roll your hips forward and moan at the contact when he slips his hand under your tights.

“You’re already wet,” he says, surprised, pulling his head back so he can look at you properly, his fingertips skimming between your legs.

You nod and pull him back in to kiss you again—you only know a few things about Kim Namjoon, but you already know you like talking to him, and now you know you like his lips on yours even more than that.

“Come here,” you say, and slide away from the door, pulling him with you so that you can bend over the small vanity where you can see yourselves in the mirror above it. He’s been polite, almost too nice for what you’re in the mood for, and you don’t know if he’ll take the initiative, so you lock eyes with him in the mirror and slide your tights down from under your dress, stepping out of them one leg at a time.

In the mirror, you watch as he tentatively sticks a hand out to feel you again, groaning when his fingertips slide against you so easily. One, then quickly two fingers enter you, slowly moving in and out, and he studies your reflection, like he’s trying to learn what you like. It’s a lot of effort for a one-night stand in a Heathrow airline lounge. He pulls his joggers down; he’s already hard, feels big against your ass and the back of your thigh.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he sighs. It’s apparently not lost on him how you watch him in the mirror, pupils blown, because then he asks, “You want to watch me fuck you?” He winds the fingers of his free hand around a handful of your hair and tentatively pulls your head up so he can look you in the eye through the mirror.

You watch him focus on you nodding and pulling your bottom lip between your teeth; he drops your hair as he stares. He has to know already how much you want it, but he makes you say it anyway.

“Tell me you want to see me make you come,” he whispers into the back of your neck, breath hot against the shell of your ear. Behind you, he’s rolling on a condom that seems to have appeared out of nowhere—you wonder if he had one in his pocket ‘just in case.’

You smirk, widen your eyes, and nod again. “Please? Will you fuck me? I want—” You pause to turn your head over your shoulder and kiss him again. “I want to watch you make me come.”

Holding onto your hip, he pushes his cock, thick and flushed, into you quickly; you don’t have much more time before his flight.

He groans as he starts thrusting, pulling almost all the way out slowly before snapping back into you.

“Oh shit…” you whisper each of the first few times he pushes into you.

Your head falls as he fucks you—It’s so good, he’s deep deep deep, and you feel so full, and you might cry it’s been so long since someone’s fucked you like this… But he wants your attention, so he brings a hand up and slaps you lightly along the back of your thigh to get you to look up.

It wasn’t hard, but you’re barely acquaintances, so he seems to hesitate, looking to your reflection for reassurance. In return, you look him straight in the eye and let out a moan.

“You wanted to watch, so watch,” he whispers.

“Do it again... please,” you plead softly as you raise your head and push your hips back against him.

He lifts the other hand and strikes the swell of your ass this time, harder than the first slap, making you suck in a breath. White knuckles grip the sides of the sink as your skin turns pink, but you’re still smirking and soaking wet, asking for more as he grips your hips to fuck you harder.

“Harder… I need you… feels so good,” you pant.

You move to lean on an elbow and bring your other hand down to your clit. His hand follows yours and moves it out of the way as he leans forward to whisper, “I thought you wanted me to make you come.”

“Then do it.”

Namjoon slows the movements of his hips to focus on you, rubbing circles over your clit with his fingertips and sucking on your neck, right against your pulse point, sending shivers along the length of your spine.

He rolls his hips into her as you grind against him, whimpering quietly, “Fuck, Joon… yes… oh, fuck…” You trail off, not able to focus on anything except his hands and his cock. You don’t even care that you’re already using nicknames with him.

“Finally got you to stop talking so much,” he teases as he works you nearer to orgasm.

You’d laugh, okay with being teased, except you’re practically shaking now, close to release, so he puts more pressure on your clit and moves his cock in you a little less deep, hitting you exactly where you need him each time.

God, you look good together. There’s a sweat sheen on your foreheads, his cheeks are painted with a rose blush, and your eyes are wide, watching yourself with curiosity in the mirror as you start to come.

You’re close, so close, tightening on his cock as he lets go of your hip and puts a hand over your mouth just in time to muffle the loud cry you make when your orgasm hits.

Your cunt pulses around him and he drags his hands slowly away from it and your mouth, back to your hips.

“You ready?” he whispers.

“Good girl,” he affirms as you nod, and that absolutely shouldn’t have you ready to come on his cock again, but maybe you have a praise kink you didn’t know about. You whimper when he starts fucking into you again, resuming his previous faster pace.

It doesn’t take long for Namjoon to come after that, with you babbling nonsense about how good his cock is and begging for him to come inside you. He thrusts into you one last time and releases into the condom, watching in the mirror as you give him a satisfied grin and roll your hips with his.

When he pulls out of you, he drops to his knees and kisses you where he’d left a handprint on your ass. It makes your breath hitch, feels too intimate for people barely know one another and who’ve just fucked in an airport bathroom. But then he pulls you up to standing, smoothing your dress around your legs. He grabs a bundle of toilet paper and hands it to you to wipe up.

“Look at you,” you tease, “what a gentleman.”

He pulls his joggers up and watches you flush the tissue while he discards the condom. You fiddle around for your tights and slide them on under your dress.

When you’re finished, you lean against the sink and watch him—he’s cute like this: face still flushed, hair mussed, and most of all, he looks as nervous as you’re starting to feel.

“I don’t do this kind of thing,” you say. Your voice is a little wobbly, and you wonder where any of the self-assurance you’d had earlier when you dragged him into the room has gone to.

Namjoon laughs, bright and dimpled, before he replies. “Fuck, me either. I mean… people sometimes… know who I am and I have to be careful.” The last words come out in a rush.

“Careful how?”

He looks fully embarrassed now. “LIke my manager is going to kick my ass when we walk out of here and… well, people back home would have a field day with this if someone saw.”

You’re not even sure what to say to that. Because of course you know who he is, you get that he’s famous, but the thought of talking about this with anyone just seems… It’s not like it makes you look very good either, so you’d never. It would be professional suicide; you’d never be taken seriously again. You spit out the next words mindlessly, just trying to make it less awkward. “You think this was the ‘something interesting’ we were supposed to wake him up for?” Namjoon just looks at you like you’re nuts before you both burst into laughter.

When you catch your breath again, you get a little more serious, your voice softer. “I’ll sign something. Whatever we should have done before, we can do it now, you can email me or whatever. God, this is crazy…” You trail off, consequences of what you’ve done starting to sink in.

“Okay… Thank you,” he says. “I hate how awkward this is. I’m sorry.”

You cross your arms over your chest, suddenly feeling a lot more vulnerable than you can ever remember feeling. Is he sorry that you did this together or is he sorry that it’s awkward? You don’t really know. Maybe it’s both.

“This was a mistake,” you say without thinking, and his face falls.

“You think that?” he asks quietly, stepping into your space and reaching out to stroke your arms gently. “Because I really don’t. I know things are complicated with me? But… I liked you when I met you for the interview, I liked you today, and I’d like to see you again. I really wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t think anything would come of it. I’m not that kind of guy.”

“Aren’t all guys that kind of guy?” you ask, wondering if he’s even for real.

“No,” he says. And you think he’s sincere. “Really. I’ve never done something like this before.”

You nod, uncrossing your arms and letting your hands slide into his. “So, we should go though… You have a flight to catch, and I guess I have an NDA to sign.” You’re trying to tease, but you think you probably just sound fucking terrified.

“Can I have your number?” he asks.

“For the NDA,” you affirm, taking the phone he’s sticking out to you and typing in your contact info.

“And for a date, maybe?” he says. And when you look up at him, he looks bashful, nervous even, as if you could ever say no to this man with a big brain and a dick to match who has just made you feel at least twelve new things in the last few hours.

“I’ll be back in Seoul in two weeks,” you say, handing him his phone back.

He smiles wide at that, and leans in to kiss your cheek. Cute again.

“I’ll call you,” he says eagerly. “And someone will be in touch about the paperwork… Sorry again.”

“Not your fault.” You shrug. “But you should head out first so it looks less weird, probably. I’ll freshen up for a minute and then be out in a bit.”

“Right,” he agrees. “Okay. So… I’ll see you in Seoul?”

You can’t help but be endeared to him; the fact that he seems to think you might actually not want to see him again makes you go all squishy inside. “It’s a date,” you confirm.

“Great! Okay… I’m gonna just… go now.” He points at the door, fumbling behind himself for the latch, like he doesn’t want to break eye contact with you.

“Okay, Namjoon… It was good to run into you and…” You hate that you can’t say anything coherent, your sentence just ending in, “stuff.”

He laughs and pulls his mask back on. “It was good to run into you and stuff, too.”

Finally, he’s got the door unlocked, and before he slips back into the lounge he says, “I’m really going to call you, okay?”

You aren’t sure why, but you believe him when he says it even though you know better, and all the weird feelings you’ve been having about him come together in a bright firework feeling in your chest. Something like hope, maybe.

“Talk to you soon,” you say quietly.

And then he’s gone, and you’re left breathless, wondering what you’ve just done.

next chapter

#bts fanfic #namjoon fic #namjoon smut #namjoon imagine #bts smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x you #bts fic #bts writing #fic: wayw

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