#sorry I have no idea what you're talking about regarding the thing you want me to delete. pls send me a link to it in messages or somethin

[problematickincalls1]

I am a non canon irken from a invader zim fanfic (I know, I'm sorry ;-;) and I am looking for my Announcer, I am twenty so no minors please. This is Aka btw. My tl was slighty canon divergent I think?? That's about it. - That post was me, can you delete it? I found who I was looking for.

.

#irken kin #invader zim kin #iz kin #anonymous #canon calls #gone mod #sorry I have no idea what you're talking about regarding the thing you want me to delete. pls send me a link to it in messages or somethin

[miniwheat77]

Soft. (Protective!Ghost x Reader.)

!CW! Ghost comforting reader, Mentions of SA, violence, I wanted smut to be in this but smut felt wrong for the sweetness, (lemme know if I missed any.)

(Summary): Ghost notices the way reader resists his advances and gets frustrated

I'm combining a few of the asks I got for this, hope you enjoy :) you can find them here and here

Ghost really didn’t mean to seem as persistent as he came across.

It took the both of you many months to begin dating, and many more to be so comfortable around each other and Ghost always tried his best to avoid the topic of sex. Not for any specific reason, but because he knew neither of you were ready for it. But after many months of dating, he’d made a couple advances. He was ready to take the next step with you, and neither of you had talked too much about it.

You either ignored him, or acted oblivious to what he was doing, it was on purpose and even he could tell. He assumed maybe you just weren’t ready but the insecurity got the best of him. Was there something wrong with him? Did you not find him attractive anymore? They got the best of him and before he knew it, he was losing sleep over it. He was a little more aggressive around you lately and you had a feeling why he was. You knew you’d eventually have to come clean about what was going on.

Ghost decided to give it one last try.

He approached as he normally had and was a little more aggressive than he meant to be. Pinning you against a wall and kissing you aggressively. “Simon-“ you tried pushing him off. “S-Simon stop.” You laugh, but he’s not stopping. Your smile falters at his persistence, flashes of what happened to you previously have you panicking slightly. “Simon enough!” You push him off. He groans out and the way he’s acting makes you uncomfortable. “Simon what the hell is going on?” You breathe. “Why won’t you have sex with me Hm? Is there something wrong?” He asks frustratedly. “Simon- what the hell?” You breathe. “Whatever Y/N.” He shakes his head, walking off. A sigh leaves your lips as he walks away.

You felt horrible afterward. You understood him wanting to take the next step with you, and understood him wanting to advance in your relationship this way.

Simon felt horrible. He’d pushed himself onto you way more than he initially anticipated, his forceful side got the best of him and he had made you uncomfortable. He needed to seek you out and apologize for his actions, but another part of him was hurt that you wouldn’t show any kind of initiative to further your relationship in that regard. Or at least give him some kind of explanation as to why you didn’t want it. He deserves to know. You fight against your better judgment and decide to give him some time to calm down, maybe it's a bad idea, maybe it isn't even meant for him, maybe it's meant for you. Time to think about what to say, time to relax for what you're going to have to tell him.

The following day, first thing in the morning, you're sneaking out to his room like you had done so many times in the past, walking right into his room. He's still asleep, and you sit down on the edge of his bed near him. He flinches awake as he feels the weight of you sitting next to him. Relaxing when he realizes it's you. He decides against saying anything, and instead pulls you into him. You lay next to him, sighing. "I'm sorry for yesterday Y/N." He breathes. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable and I'm sorry for being so forceful. I just wanted to take that next step with you." He sighs. "It's okay Simon." You breathe. "Is it something with me?" He asks. "What do you mean?" You look at him confused. "Do.. you not trust me? Or... find me attractive in that way?" He asks. "No. No Simon. Jeez." You breathe. "It's not that at all. Just.. Give me a minute to explain myself and It'll make sense okay?" You say. He nods his head. "I think you're stunning Simon. I think you are absolutely perfect in every single way and I should have opened up to you about this beforehand." You sigh.

"When I was younger, I had this boyfriend and he wasn't too kind." You breathe.

You go into more detail, voice breaking slightly as you explain everything he had done to you. The physical, psychological, sexual abuse.

By the time you finish, Ghost wants to hunt him down personally and torture him for what he had done to you. You were so nice and caring and patient with him. Finding out what you had told him has him fuming. You didn't deserve that. "The reason I didn't want to tell you is because I know how much you have gone through and I didn't want to add anymore to your full plate. I didn't want you to look at me differently." You sigh. He shakes his head. "Y/N." He breathes. "I love you." He cups your face, forcing you to look at him. "I love you and no matter what you've been through, no matter what you have done, no matter what has happened, nothing will change that." He breathes. "You are my everything. I would die for you, I've killed for you. And that bastard that put his hands on you deserves nothing more than my face being the last thing he ever sees." He sighs. He presses his lips to yours, trying to stop the tears that are running down your cheeks. "I wish you would have told me sooner sweetheart. I'm so sorry for pushing you so much." You laugh, trying to conceal the sobs that so desperately want to come out. "Simon, I know you'd never hurt me like that. I'm sorry for not telling you." You breathe.

He takes a deep breath. "I've had some bad stuff happen to me too." He looks down. "On a couple of the missions I've been on, I've been tortured and abused in a lot of the same ways." He sighs. You look up at him, eyes watering even more. You pull him into a tight hug. "I love you so much Simon. You didn't deserve that." He laughs. "Nobody deserves that. But you have to work through it. You don't have any other choices."

You lay there next to him for the next couple of hours. Not caring if you get caught in his room. The both of you need this. Need to relax into each other. Finding out that Simon had gone through similar experiences, it hurts you. Despite all of that, he still trusted you enough to want that passion with you and you had resisted his advances. He would never force you. He didn't want you to feel obligated. He wanted you to be completely comfortable around him.

-

You notice after having that conversation, he becomes more protective of you. Pulling you behind him when men approach you, staring them down, the slightest interaction had him stepping in front of you. It intrigued you a lot.

When you bring Simon home with you to meet your family, it's hard for him. He doesn’t wear his mask and he’s skeptical. But it goes well. Your family loves him and welcome him into their home with open arms. Simon is awkward and nervous, but he loves it.

“This is where I grew up, this was one of my first jobs.” You smile. Pulling into the familiar bowling alley. He laughs. He has his mask on, and he’s more comfortable now. “You go inside, I’m going to smoke.” He smiles. “I want to stay with you.” You follow him. You both walk to the end of the sidewalk surrounding the building to the furthest side. There’s a lot of old leaves built up and it’s a common place for people to smoke. A car full of guys pulls up, blaring music. You roll your eyes. You see all of them pile out of the car, making their way up to the doors nearest to you and Simon. “Simon-“ you grasp his hand. He sees a man following the group inside, noticing you. He says something to them, before stepping back and making his way toward the both of you. Simon pushes you behind him, and you stare at the ground. Hoping he’ll go away. “Hey.” The guy smiles. Simon stays quiet. “Can I help you?” He asks. “Oh, no. But she can.” Simon blows a puff of smoke through his mask. “Yeah? Who are you?”

When he says his name, Simon clenches his free hand together. This was the guy who had put his hands on you. “Who are you?” He asks Simon. Simon laughs, ignoring him. “I asked you a question. What the hell are you doing with her anyways? Don’t you know she’s in a relationship?” He crosses his arms. Simon is trying to hold himself back for your sake and your sake only. But he’s pushing his buttons. Simon tosses the cigarette on the ground, stepping on it. “Yeah. She’s in a relationship with me.” The guy rolls his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding. What’s with the stupid mask anyways?” Simon is fuming beneath it. “Just leave us alone.” You finally speak up. “I wasn’t talking to you, bitch.” He seethes, Simon takes a step forward quickly, grasping him by his throat and slamming him up against the concrete wall, making you flinch. Simon manhandles him like he weighs nothing. “Don’t talk to her like that.” He growls. “In the military they call me Lieutenant Ghost. I kill people like you for fun.” He breathes. He’s cutting off his air. “I’d kill you if she wasn’t watching me right now, because I respect her. If you come around her ever again, my face will be the last thing you ever fucking see. Am I understood?” He seethes. He nods his head. Simon draws back, knocking his fist into his face, one hard punch from the mountain of a man had him falling to the ground holding his face. Simon crouches down. “I pick my teeth with scum bags like you.”

He stands back up. “Come on sweetheart.” Ghost reaches a hand out to you, and you take it.

Simon doesn’t get to see the bowling alley, but he sees you pacing around inside of your apartment. You’re pacing back and fourth, something important clearly on your mind. He waits patiently for you to calm down, waiting for any sort of sign that you’re okay. “Y/N.. I’m sorry if I was too rough-“ you raise your hand, making him stop talking. He does immediately. Sitting down on your couch.

You wondered how the hell you managed to find someone like Simon. What on earth you had done to deserve him, the way he defends you. Seeing him put hands on that guy for you has your insides scrambling. You finally turn and look at him, and his eyes are full of remorse. Without thinking, you lean down, pressing your lips to his. He jumps a little but relaxes when he realizes what you were doing. You climb into his lap and he sighs into your lips, feeling you on him is some kind of relief he didn't know he needed to feel. "I can't believe you hit him." Are the first words out of your mouth when you pull apart. He laughs. "I wanted to do worse but.. didn't figure Price would appreciate that." He laughs. You relax into him. "I'd do anything for you." He brushes a hand through your hair. “I’d do anything for you too Simon. I just.. god. You’re so…” you think for a second.

“Hot.” The laugh that leaves Simons mouth is something you could listen to on repeat. “You’re hot too.” He breathes. Moving your chin to make you look at him. “Nobody touches you. Ever. Or they’ll deal with me.” He looks at you. “Am I understood?”

“Understood.”

#call of duty mw2 #soap mw2 #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #captain john price #price mw2 #alejandro mw2 #captain price #johnny soap mactavish #mw2 smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader

[alotofrandomfangirling]

hi, could you do a x reader oneshot on live action Roronoa Zoro from the live action One Piece series!

Roronoa Zoro x reader oneshot (Netflix live action)

Summary: you tend to Zoro's wounds after he is hurt on a fight

Warnings: cursing, a bit suggestive, mentions of blood, me pretending to understand medical matters 🤡 (sorry about that, it was for fangirling purposes only ajskajakja)

A/n: hello anon! Thanks a lot for the request 🥰 this is probably set after s1? Sorry for any plot or grammar mistakes 🙏🏻 i hope you like it 🩷

The salty sea breeze hit your skin as you looked out the Going Merry trying to spot your friends.

The straw hats had left to a village to try to confront another crew. Apparently another annoying guy was threatening Luffy and he was not going to let that pass. It was stupid, you thought, but, when Luffy had something in mind, absolutely no one could convince him otherwise.

Luffy had asked you to stay on the ship in case anything happened. Being the crew's doctor, you had to be prepared for any emergency regarding the crew's well being.

Yep, you were the doctor in the straw hats crew.

You had met when Luffy saw you helping hurt people in the middle of a fight at the small island you lived. He was so impressed at how good you were, how you helped everyone with ability but also with a kindness in your eyes that he had never seen before in anyone.

Having lived your entire life with your doctor grandparents, you had learned from them and was just as skilled as them, so you were always ready to help those who needed.

But you were also a dreamer and wanted to go around the world meeting new people and new places, so when Luffy asked you to join his crew you happily said yes.

- we already have a navigator, a cook... we could use a talented doctor like you. I just know it's you. So, what do you say? - he asked, with that excited smile of his.

And that's how you became a part of this special crew. Everyone was so nice to you, so it didn't take much time for you to get along with them all, specially with their cute swordsman.

Yeah, it was like you clicked. You started getting closer, closer... and before you knew you were dating.

That's why you were specially worried today. You were really afraid your boyfriend was going to do something stupid and get himself hurt again (you still had nightmares about the whole Mihawk thing).

You were lost in your thoughts when you heard your friends coming back to the ship. You immediatly ran to check on them.

- is everyone okay? - you asked worried.

- we're fine, we were lucky. Can't say the same about your man over there - Sanji said and your heart dropped. What did this stubborn do this time?

- shut up, Sanji, i'm fine - you heard Zoro say as he entered the ship too.

You ran to him doing a quick check up with your eyes. That's when you noticed the big red stain on the side of his shirt.

- oh my gosh, Zoro, you're bleeding! - you said terrified.

- this? Nah, this is just a scratch - he said shrugging and trying to play tough, even though you could clearly see he was in pain.

- no, it's not! - you said, in a stern way - come on, we have to bandage you up.

You carefully led him inside and brought your medical kit to start tending to his wounds. He sat down as you began.

- take your shirt off - you ordered.

- Wow you're that eager, huh? - he said smirking, but instantly regretting and wincing with pain.

- Zoro! Will you stop being a brat and let me take care of you? - you said angrily - i can see you're in pain and you're not going anywhere until we fix that up!

You were usually a very chill person, but you couldn't stand seeing your friends and loved ones in pain. That activated a side of you people were even a bit scared of lol

- okay, boss - he said, a bit annoyed but finally giving up.

The way he called you 'boss' made you feel all tingly inside. You were sure going to have to talk to him about it later (and maybe share some ideas 👀) but now it wasn't the time. You had a wound to treat.

He took his shirt off and you couldn't help but take in a sharp breath at the sight (even though you had seen it before lol). Boy was sure shredded.

Focus, (Y/N).

You checked him and noticed he had a knife wound just above his hip. It was ugly, but you could do it.

You grabbed a piece of cloth to start cleaning the wound.

- my love, i apologize in advance, but this is going to hurt.

You started the cleaning.

- shit, that hurts! - he hissed.

- i know, i'm sorry.

You knew you had to do it, but you couldn't stand seeing the man you loved suffering like that. You had to distract him out of it so you could finish your work.

- umm baby, could you tell me again about that time you beat three pirates at once with only one sword?

- what? Now? Why? - he looked so cute furrowing his brows in confusion.

- it's just that... i like to work listening to your voice - you quickly made that up lol

Well, it wasn't totally a lie, you did enjoy listening to his voice, but of course it was mostly to keep him distracted ajskjakaja

He was still a bit suspicious but started telling the story since you asked him (trust me, there was nothing you asked Zoro he wouldn't do for you). Your strategy worked cause you cleaned the wound and bandaged it without him wincing too much.

By the time he finished the story, you had finished your work too. You also gave him some painkillers for him to feel better soon.

- there you go - you said softly and kissed his forehead.

He closed his eyes and melted under your touch, not only because of how tired he was, but also because he felt super safe with you.

- thank you, (Y/N) - he said squeezing your hand.

You smiled at him.

- now please lay down and try to rest a bit, or this thing won't heal - you said in a stern tone, but nearly begging for your boyfriend to take care of himself.

You gathered your medical stuff and were starting to leave the room when he said:

- (Y/N), wait!

- what is it? - you asked, worried he was starting to feel pain again.

- I... I might not be feeling 100% yet. I think you should stay and lay down with me just in case it gets worse - he said in a really nonchalant way.

You rolled your eyes at his completely obvious attempt, but couldn't help smiling and blushing a bit at the thought of the great Roronoa Zoro wanting you to stay with him.

- you're the worst, Zoro - you said playfully as you carefully laid down next to him and put your hand on his chest.

- yeah, but you love me - he replied with that smug smile of his and that deep voice that drove you crazy.

You chuckled at his response.

- yes, I do - you said smiling.

His next words came out merely a whisper, but were enough to give you a thousand butterflies in your stomach:

- and I love you more.

#roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #one piece live action #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro fanfiction

[moonsaver]

Hi! It’s @pix3lplays! (On anon because I have another account and I can’t switch which account I’m asking from haha)

I wanted to say thanks for being so nice when I responded to your comment on one of my posts~I really appreciated what you said hehe, definitely made me feel bit more confident and inspired me to keep writing :)

So I thought I’d throw an ask out since requests are open~

If you’re not interested no problem but I’ve thought about it a little and I thought maybe you’d have some thoughts.

Yandere!Sunday when his darling somehow gets seriously hurt, how do you think he’d feel, what would he do?

Personally I think he’s a complete control freak already when it comes to reader, so it just gets WORSE…ANYWAYS I wanna hear YOUR thoughts if you’re interested in the prompt hehe~ also if you’ve already talked about this oops I must’ve missed it, sorry in advance-

But yeah thanks so much, it was really cool to talk to you, take care of yourself, please!!

Hello Pixel! Thank you for sending in this ask, you're very sweet haha <3 i like your writing and im glad i helped you become more confident in it. Also,same issue here, i cant send asks from this account specifically, so i use anon or just use my personal blog to send asks.

Anyways, onto the request,

Ooh, my Yan!Sunday brain is ticking.. he really is an absolute control freak, and is a bit of a mess when he sees you seriously injured. A miscalculation, ignorance, negligence, or perhaps just.. an oversight from his part? Whatever the reason is, he's in high-drive now, and absolutely stressed about it. He only has a worried and distant look on his face, and at this stage he's prone to easily snapping at anyone, but his mind would be on a completely different level of stress. How dare they? How dare anyone lay a filthy inch of a finger on you? To stain you with their sins, and to breach your skin in such a grotesque manner.. he's absolutely enraged.

He insists on tending to you himself personally, unless it's so serious paramedics have to be involved. Stays by your side until he cant, sitting on the egde of the bed, body turned halfway to face you, fingers ghosting the edge of your face with tenderness.

However, this tenderness is only limited to your recovery period.

After you wake up or recover a bit, practically any freedom you would have had is gone. Completely.

Scolds you, borderline yells at you, holds you still with a deathly tight grip on your arms, forcing you to look into his eyes. This happened because you left. This happened because you were out of his watch. This all happened because of your freedom. Don't you dare even bother mentioning going out anywhere. You will be surveillanced almost all the time. He spends a suffocating amount of time next to you, harshly spitting back whenever you try to protest or reason with him. His words aren't gentle at all, and you're getting on his nerves. Perhaps he should just look over you himself, force you into a borderline coma in the dream fluid, and deal swiftly with the perpetrators.

Robin catches wind of this at some point.. she tells you that he's just worried, and there's a lot of people that don't quite hold The Family in high regards. Just.. its okay. Let him do this.

Let him pick out your clothes, brush your hair, check your healing wounds, gently ebb the water over them as you bathe, and kiss the skin of your shoulder when both of you stay silent after another argument.

If you still continue arguing.. he doesn't have a choice. He slumps a bit, a hand coming up to massage his temple as he sighs, and tells you in a softer voice that he's terrified. The worst thing that could happen did happen. He almost lost you. Can't you just go with it and let him be assured? You're dragging it out much more than it needs to be. He's spent many sleepless nights, ideas of dreamscapes turning into nightmares as the image of your hurt face flashes in his mind. Just cooperate, for Aeons' sake.

And no one speaks after that. He emotionally blackmails and manipulates you as a sort of final resort. Surely, you'd understand. It's not like it's far from the truth anyway. He is scared. But more than that, he's enraged this happened in the first place.

Adding on more to it,

Once things calm down.. in a twisted sort of way, he realizes just how perfectly he can get you under his complete control from these events. He may even not so subtly orchestrate similar events to scare you, to keep you in check, forcing you to rely on him completely, as he swoops in at the right time, acting as some kind of a "savior". Its a sick mindset, and he's not ashamed of it. Oh dear, you were just so pleasantly compliant after that event. And it just solidifies his statement that you shouldn't be going outside anymore, or be constantly accompanied by the Bloodhound Family guards, after only a few incidents of various threat levels.

In the end, it's a cycle that repeats up until you finally give in and let him take any and all freedom you have. He sets down your hairbrush with a gentle 'clack', kisses the crown of your head, and tells you it's alright. He will take such good care of you. Just listen to him. Listen to his every word. He has your best intentions in mind. Don't think about anything, anyone. You're a smart girl, surely you understand?

#moonink #hsr #honkai star rail #hsr sunday #honkai star rail sunday #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr sunday x reader #yandere honkai star rail #yandere sunday x you #yandere sunday x reader #yandere sunday #yandere hsr sunday #yandere hsr x reader #yandere hsr x you #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail x reader #sunday hsr #hsr sunday x y/n #hsr sunday x you #sunday x reader #yandere headcanons #sunday x you

[n3ptoonz]

Idk man, I think I’m gonna need to see you write how Raiden, Kenshi, Syzoth, Tomas, and Liu Kang behave when giving and receiving body worship 😏

oh...oh 😏

first half is bullet points and the second is blurbs bc my brain likes to stop working for some reason

suggestive, fluff elements under the cut, THIS WAS SO HARD TO FORMAT HOLY i'm sorry for taking so long!1!1?3? i hope this isn't ass🗿

When giving body worship:

Raiden

is nervous at first. so many things he wants to say, so many things he wants to do. you'd have to guide him at first but he quickly takes over as he gets the hang of it

he'd have you facing him because he wants to start from head to toe, taking extra time inspecting your face and kissing all over it

i can see him going as far as kneeling to get into what he likes about your lower body starting at your torso. if you have some type of tummy going on he's gonna sit there and knead at you like a cat (totally not self indulgent 😹)

Kenshi

makes it his mission. i'm referring back to my kenshi fic with this cause there's body worship in it

it don't matter what you look like or how secure/insecure you are in regards to your body, he's having you stand in front of a mirror and will shamelessly glide his soft tatted hands over the exact parts he adores

he praises you the entire time. physicality, personality, the things you do for him, how you've personally helped him and didn't realize, every. single. thing.

Syzoth

gets lost in the moment. i feel like he's a very emotional guy and lover to the point where he would prob almost cry (yall saw how fast he fell to his knees in the story) talking about the things he adores about you

don't even get him started on your body. he doesn't really understand the concept of body image, but he got the idea to worship yours because he found it so unique. like he's genuinely intrigued

expect him to leave bite barks on the places he likes the most, it's how his folks show love. his eyes would be sparkling and everything

Tomas

whispers sweet nothings. he LOVES giving body worship. he was always the kind of person who admired others quickly, and that especially included you

he's whispering/murmuring all types of cute things in your ear as you rock back in forth in his strong arms (lord god help me) whether you're facing him or not. "...to your lips, oh how i love your lips..." is definitely the cadence he's going for

it's actually pretty funny to think about him innocently talking about your body and innocently touching/grabbing at certain parts and then gets to like your ass and he's like "and this ass of yours...i could never grow tired of it." like 😭 what happened to pretty eyes mister?! (kidding you can say that again 😝)

Liu Kang

knows exactly what to do. If you're lying down, there's no part of your body that goes without a kiss. i mean literally no part of your body

he loves every single part of it, and he makes sure you understand that without a doubt. he'll make comments about almost everything

it surprises you sometimes how he's able to come up with such sentiments for something as simple as a knee or elbow, but it surely gets the job done

When receiving body worship:

Raiden is super shy. Whether you copy what he did or if it was for the first time and you gave him praise the whole time, he's a nervous wreck. It happened while you were straddling him and telling him how impressed you were with the work he put into his body, running your hands down his bare chest and peppering kisses all over him. The deep blush on his cheeks weren't nearly enough to tell you how much he appreciated you and your kind words.

Kenshi went from shy to letting his ego get fed a little bit. He values physical touch and quality time so much, and this was the perfect combination. He obviously wasn't expecting this, so at first he playfully brushed it off. Then once you started to really show and tell what you liked about him, you could see his eyebrow raise and the smirk on his face grow. He'd hold your face or hips while you did it, just to keep himself grounded and in the moment.

Syzoth didn't know what to do. He just...stood there. You could see the visible shock on his face, but clearly this was only because things like this didn't happen in the Zaterran world. Especially when you'd worship literally both forms, this is a newfound concept to him. Normally people are afraid of his natural form. But no, you showing love to all of him brought happy tears to his eyes.

Tomas was also very shy. He's confident in his abilities and clearly took the time to perfectly sculpt his own body for combat, but he never really thought about his own looks. So your intense focus and worship towards his physical appearance had him in awe. To the point of littering hickeys on the parts of his body nobody would be able to see but him made him all giddy and excited in and outside. In fact, he'd ask you to do this more often!

Liu Kang didn't really know how to respond at first. He appreciated your efforts, really. You decided to surprise him after you hadn't seen him in a while. He'd smile down at you using some of his techniques and kissing down his body starting from his forehead. Eventually he gets used to your way of showing affection and you'll physically see him melt under your touch.

#n3ptoonz #mk1 #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #kenshi takahashi #tomas vrbada #liu kang mk1 #liu kang #syzoth #reptile mk #raiden mk1 #kenshi takashi x reader #tomas mk1 #tomas vrbada smoke #mk1 tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke x reader #liu kang x reader #reptile x reader #syzoth x reader

[livingemkayde]

ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?”  What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.  “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”  “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.” 

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head. 

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it. 

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy. 

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.” 

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink. 

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully. 

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all. 

“No, I don’t think —” 

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes. 

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far. 

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.” 

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.” 

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?” 

“Why.” 

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.” 

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.” 

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice. 

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink. 

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside. 

“Hello?” 

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes. 

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window. 

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight? 

“Jesus. No — no.” 

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me. 

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly. 

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.” 

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought. 

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl. 

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.” 

Love you, bye. 

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately. 

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good. 

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys. 

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers. 

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment. 

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things. 

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back. 

“Thanks, sweetheart.” 

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day. 

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief. 

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before. 

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten. 

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say. 

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar. 

“I did good, didn’t I?” 

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. 

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” 

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.” 

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now. 

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever. 

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do. 

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy. 

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely. 

Jealous? Yeah. That one. 

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can. 

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving. 

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice. 

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long. 

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back. 

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.” 

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away. 

Good for him.  

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone. 

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore? 

“You alright?” 

You snap your head to Tommy again. 

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears. 

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.” 

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one. 

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind —  saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault. 

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet. 

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears? 

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?” 

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop. 

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one. 

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips. 

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?” 

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.” 

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs. 

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back. 

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers. 

You can see her better in this light. 

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older. 

More like Tommy — more like Joel. 

More age appropriate. 

Less like you. 

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit. 

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud. 

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs. 

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods. 

“What did you study?” 

“English.” 

“Ah. English. Remember those days.” 

“What do you do?” 

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink. 

Great. Journalist. 

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you. 

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation. 

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd. 

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze. 

How could you be so stupid? 

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel. 

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start. 

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway. 

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel. 

~

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him. 

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose. 

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night. 

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed. 

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

 Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building. 

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through. 

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes. 

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser. 

Maybe you want it to hurt. 

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is. 

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude. 

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough. 

“You should come. Right, Joel?” 

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother. 

“To my party?” 

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower. 

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?” 

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere. 

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face. 

Jesus. 

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met. 

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering. 

“Need some air,” you say. 

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends. 

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away. 

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words. 

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—” 

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you. 

“I do — wanna help.” 

You smile shyly. 

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.” 

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar. 

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.” 

“Maybe,” you echo. 

Suddenly, the air feels less playful. 

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you. 

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.” 

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.” 

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.” 

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face. 

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you— 

Stop this. 

~

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever. 

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets. 

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —” 

I like you. I want you. I need you. 

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities. 

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you. 

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind. 

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead— 

“Where are you goin’?” 

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you. 

Because that’s all you want. You just want him. 

“Home.” 

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it. 

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his. 

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave. 

Please. 

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all. 

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw. 

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.” 

~

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer. 

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too. 

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes. 

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man. 

Not like Tommy. 

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately. 

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken. 

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment. 

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered. 

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.” 

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that. 

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to. 

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside. 

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed. 

~

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck. 

You grumble with him. 

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.” 

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving. 

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.” 

You smile lazily at him. 

“Like you aren’t?” 

He laughs back. 

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash. 

Tommy speaks first. 

“What’d you and Joel talk about?” 

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much. 

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.” 

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help  — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar. 

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.” 

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.” 

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. 

“Well thanks anyways.” 

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness. 

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?” 

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question. 

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle. 

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.” 

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest. 

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes. 

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away. 

Tommy continues when you don’t respond. 

“Took her home though.” 

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart. 

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all. 

“Really?” 

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life. 

Tommy pulls up to your driveway. 

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park. 

“Is that —  like —  an issue?”

 Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?” 

“No. Think she’s good for him.” 

There it is again. 

Good for him. 

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt. 

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion. 

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements. 

You don’t pull away. 

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face. 

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away. 

“Jesus.” 

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time. 

You’re scared of what he might say. 

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?” 

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips. 

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?” 

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now. 

“No, like — like a date. I guess.” 

_

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

@sofiparallel @akah565 @going-to-californiaxx @gintheginger @defnotashifter @missgurrl @daddy-din @earthtogrogu @rooney-verse @ratoonstown @skysmiller @pedritosdarling @lovely-ateez @pluzo @spongebobspooploop

@ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @tsunamistorm123 @awhoreforalotofshows @disassociation-daydreams @anoverwhelmingdin @violinchick @rhoorl @yoongjennie88 @rainbowcosmicchaos @akah565 @pedropascalissofine @purplemechanics @suzmagine @untamedheart81 @hellaradd @josephine1837 @noisynightmarepoetry @lawh0re

@joelsversion @hellaradd @vanillen @brujitafantomatico @cartoon-garbage04 @jpbplvr @whattownheadshake @beccerjune @pedrotonin @sen-mirjahaal @awesomebunnyqueen @bluetattoos @sunnysaphira @vickywallace @bbyanarchist @gossipgirl-03 @casa-boiardi

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel x reader #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel miller self insert #the last of us #joel fic #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fic #joel the last of us #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal as joel miller #joel miller smut #smut #joel x f!reader #joel x female reader #joel x you #tlou fanfiction #dbf!joel miller #dbf!joel #dom!joel #dom!joel miller #tommy miller #chaser

[thedarlingdearestdead]

Serious:

Summary: Inspired by that line in Ahsoka - "Would you like me to be more serious?"

Warnings: Kissing? Angst? Fighting.

Word count: 1,125

The battle had been long, even now, hours after it ended and the Republic had come out victorious, you could feel the weariness in your bones. Maybe it was because you were still so surrounded by the consequences of the war. Bodies were being transported across the hall, people treated for their injuries, generals shouting over the din trying to issue orders of evacuation. 

You just sat there and watched. Sitting on the ramp which led up to your ship that had not been cleared for safe flight. Waiting for a better mechanic than yourself to come fix it. Waiting for someone to help. You would have loved to just leave. Go back to the Jedi temple, back to the gardens, the library, The idea of sleeping and meditating, once so boring to you, seemed like a rescue after such trying days as these. 

One of those loud Generals in particular caught your attention. Maybe it was because of his excessive volume or lightness of voice. Either way your eyes met the back of his head in a glare. Anakin Skywalker. He was engrossed in a heated discussion with Captain Rex, the leader of the 501st Legion.

You knew that Anakin had been through a lot during this battle. His skills as a pilot and a warrior were unmatched, but he had a tendency to take risks that left him and those around him in dangerous situations. It was one of the qualities that made him a formidable warrior but also a source of concern for the Jedi Council. His behaviour didn’t make him any less of a liability. 

He was laughing. Men were being dragged across the room by their feet for lack of stretchers and he was laughing. 

As you watched, Anakin suddenly turned, his eyes locking onto yours like he felt your glare. There was a flicker of recognition in his blue eyes, and he made his way towards you, his footsteps echoing in the cavernous hangar.

“Master L/N” 

"Anakin," you responded coolly, not bothering to hide your disapproval at his behaviour. 

"Something wrong?" he asked, his tone challenging, eyebrows raised.

You scoffed. “Evidently not, indeed it seems the war has not dimmed your spirit.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Levity is one thing, Anakin," you said sharply. "But this is not a time for jokes. Lives have been lost-“

“I know that.” He says sternly.

“Do you? It seems you couldn’t care less.”

“You want me to be more serious?”

“Yes”

"I care about the lives lost, L/N. You know that. But what good does it do to sit around feeling sorry for ourselves? We won this battle, and we need to start planning for the next one. Who are you helping? Sitting there, staring out into space- it’s miserable. It’s pathetic.”

“I’ll take that over callous.”

“Is that what you think of me?”

You sighed, feeling a sense of deep exhaustion wash over you. It was true that you were tired, physically and emotionally, but you refused to let your guard down around Anakin. His impulsiveness and lack of regard for consequences had caused trouble more times than you could count. You were grateful for his skills, but that didn't mean you had to approve of his attitude.

“I don’t know what I think of you.”

Your words hung in the air, the tension rising between the two of you. Anakin's expression was stony, his jaw set in a hard line. For a moment, it seemed like he might lash out at you, but then he sighed heavily and his shoulders slumped.

“Force, Y/N. Sometimes I just want to…”

You watched him for a moment, seeing something in his eyes that you couldn't quite place.

"Want to what, Anakin?" You prompted. He’s silent for a beat too long, studying you unnervingly. "You're not injured, are you?” You ask.

“No. Apologies Master L/N. For everything- my behaviour.” 

You regarded Anakin with a mixture of surprise and concern. It wasn't often that you heard him apologise, especially not for something as ingrained in his character as his irreverent sense of humour and his tendency to shrug off any responsibilities.

“Please, allow me to take you to an alternative transport. Yours is… Smoking.”

He had a point and you didn’t really know how to refuse him, or respond in any other way than to follow him out of the hangar. The eyes of all remaining clones and junior Jedi following the two of you out. 

The noise and chaos began to fade away until you were quite alone. That’s when he paused. 

Anakin turned to face you, his expression unreadable. You couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping up your spine. It was rare to see him so serious, so contemplative. You had seen him in battle, watched as he faced down countless enemy soldiers with a fierce determination in his eyes, but this was different. This was something else entirely.

“You know, I can be very serious when I need to be.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, unable to decipher the meaning behind his words. Anakin had always been a puzzle to you, his emotions running deep and his thoughts often shrouded in mystery. You had learned to keep your distance, to stay professional and focused in his presence.

“I’m sure you can be, Anakin,” you said, keeping your tone neutral.

He took a step closer to you, his eyes searching your face.

"You don't believe me, do you?"

"I don't know what to believe," you admitted, feeling a sense of vulnerability that you rarely allowed yourself to feel. Anakin had a way of getting under your skin, of making you feel things that you didn't want to feel.

Anakin stepped closer to you, his face set in a serious expression. “Let me show you what I’m made of.”

Before you could respond, Anakin leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. You were taken aback by the suddenness of the kiss but found yourself unable to pull away. His lips were soft and warm against yours, and you felt a surge of desire rush through you.

As the kiss deepened, you felt yourself succumbing to the heat between you. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer to him. The smell of smoke and burnt metal filled your nostrils, but you didn't care. All that mattered was the feel of Anakin's body pressed against yours, the taste of his lips on yours.

But just as quickly as the kiss had started, it ended. Anakin pulled away, his eyes searching yours for a reaction. You couldn't bring yourself to say anything, for once you had nothing to say to him. He smirked. 

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #clone wars #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #star wars fanfiction #star wars prequels #star wars fandom #star wars #darth vader #tcw #ahsoka

[jaettps]

LOVE ME TOO.

in which your whole life you waited for rin itoshi to love you back, but when he leaves you his brother comes into scene

word count: 4k

warnings: angst, f!reader, brief mention of suicide, some swearing i think, nswf parts but nothing too explicit

(au in which blue lock doesn't exist)

sorry for eventual mistakes, i'm not a native english speaker. this was written at 2am and it was definitely not proofread :))

their mother always joked saying you were destined to marry one of her sons. to her, it wasn't clear which one, but to you it could only ever be your dark-haired best friend.

yes, you were rin itoshi's best friend: you were regarded of the honor to be called his "friend". every friday evening, as if it was an appointment, you sat at the dinner table of the itoshi house. every friday, since you were fourteen, rin, sae and their mother would chat and talk about whatever things with you.

well, sae didn't talk that much - with anyone, actually, but rin's mother considered you a treasure, and a "saint for being able to stand rin 24/7", and while putting on a grumpy expression whenever she said that, rin thought that of you too.

he was grateful that you would spend the night at his house at any given opportunity, even when you turned sixteen and people didn't see it as 'appropriate' anymore, that you would sit with him at lunch when no one else wanted to, that you would help him train even if you couldn't hold a ball for more than two seconds without making it fall on the ground.

he had no idea. of how everything you did with him, was because your heart burnt with hopeless love. because everytime you looked at him you felt like you could have spent the rest of your life with yours tied to his, like you would have stabbed yourself to have just one faint touch of his lips onto yours.

but he didn't notice, even when you turned seventeen and he should have been more mature, more considerate of these things. that's what you thought when your friend, one of your girl classmates, told you it's crystal clear to anyone that you were head over heels for itoshi rin.

then how, you told yourself, how is he the only one who's blind in front of such supposed evidence?

there were times, like when you were watching a movie on his bed, sitting so close to each other you could hear his heartbeat into your ears and you felt like dying, or when you couldn't bear with the amount of school work you had and he hugged you while you cried on his shoulder, or when he would hold your hand with so much kindness and thoughtfullness that you would think it'd be impossible for him not to reciprocate your feelings, or at least acknowledge their existence.

but months passed by and you kept sticking together, just as "buddies", hugging and play-fighting and holding hands but just as friends. you felt your heart like a flower that was slowly withering, despite this you kept holding on to that faint hope that one day maybe, maybe, he could finally watch you with eyes filled with love. just like your own eyes did when you were together.

so, when you were nineteen ("we're elders now, rin! don't you feel old?) and your high school class organized a goodbye party with lots of alcohol and smoke and even drugs ("fuck we're going there, i won't let you walk around with all that weed around" "come ooon rin, you're no fun!"), and the bottle landed right on the both of you, heads blurred by the drinks, your heart did a backflip in your chest. you weren't really present at that moment, and rin mustn't have been either, because you leaned into a passionate make out session, not just a kiss.

step by step, while your classmates laughed and cheered, rin placed a hand on your esposed skin on your hip and guided you to a random bedroom, forgetting where and who you were with.

he really didn't know what he was doing, and you didn't either. it must have been the alcohol for rin, but can he really blame it all on the drinks?

things went how they had to go, and you found yourself awake the next morning, fully naked, next to the dark-haired boy. you almost cried of joy. because you waited all your life to see him lay on your side, sheets covering his naked body, a peaceful resting expression on his pretty face. you felt like if they killed you right then, you would've died happier than ever.

that's why, when he breaks the news to you, after weeks of not saying a word of what you two had spent together, you feel your world being ripped apart.

he's heading off to france. tomorrow. to play with a football team in paris.

"it's the opportunity of my life," he tells you, excitement filling his teal eyes, "i can't miss it for absolutely no reason."

you're included in those reasons, you guess. and as you simply nod, you sense a boulder weighing in your lungs and in your stomach and in your heart. because for you, he would be an enough reason to stay in japan. but evidently, to rin you didn't mean as much as you thought.

with watering eyes, you leave his house with a weak goodbye falling from your trembling lips, leaving him all alone in his room.

the next day, you're not at the airport to greet him.

-♡-

even after a couple of years though, you didn't fall apart as you expected the two of you to. you still hold a grudge at him for leaving you on your own in japan like you were just someone and not his best friend – if you could still call yourselves that after whatever had happened. it's been three years since rin left to play for paris' football club, and now his name is known in all of france, topping every chart in the french league, while you keep studying at university.

you are so proud of him. you talk to him via message every time he plays, congratulating your best friend.

is he really still your best friend though? yes, you still contact each other almost every day, but now he feels so cold and distant, like a shadow you struggle to touch from afar. you feel like rin is making his own life in france, with you not being on the picture.

does he have the same feelings for you as he used to? does he even miss you?

you guess he can be called your first heartbreak, your one and only.

you snork painfully as you think this, looking at the goodnight text you sent him the night before. he hasn't read it. you're walking along the familiar sidewalk, heading for the itoshi house.

you don't actually want to go visit rin's mother, but your mom insisted that you would bring her a few cookies you had cooked the other day. she said it was to thank her for everytime she hosted you at hers, and while you agree, you don't feel like going back to your lost crush's house is going to benefit you, y'know?

oh, if you are wrong.

you understand immediatly that the quick visit you are planning to make will take an unexpected turn when you see sae itoshi sitting on the sofa, legs wide open and an arm on the handrest holding his chin. damn, you haven't seen him in so long! you and rin were barely teens when he flied to spain to pursue his football career. in fact, you realize, after spending all that time at rin's house, you don't know him at all.

embarassment floods over you. you greet him, a little afraid, because just like his younger brother, sae itoshi is able to send chills down with his coldness. before greeting back, sae looks at you from top to bottom, and you're sure he's thinking just the same you're thinking of him. you have changed.

that day, you discover him. to you, before, sae was just rin's older brother, a shadow that was at your best friend's home and that every once in a while came into his room to ask him something, or to complain about you two making too much chaos. to be completely honest, back then you found him annoying and too full of himself, like he considered himself too good to talk to people. his poker face never changed, and that proved your point: he was your best friend's arrogant older brother.

until today, you had never properly spoke to sae. you mostly asked him where something was or if he had seen rin, and he answered not moving his eyes away from his phone. today, though, you talk to him until it's late at night. you don't talk about important things, it's purely chatting; even so, you can't help but feel captivated by sae. you find out he's back in japan but only for a few months, because there's no championship in summer, and since he doesn't own a house here his mother was glad to host him.

when you're back in your room, under the covers, you rethink of how, that afternoon, you were able to make a soft chuckle come out of his lips. you feel a bubble pop inside your stomach as you replay that moment in your head, and you feel like you want to make him laugh again.

and you do. because from that day, you gradually come to the point in which you spend every free moment you have with the red-haired. may it be at his house, at yours, in his car, at a fast food, wherever and whenever, you can't stay away from him.

he attracts you, like rin did. sometimes you look into sae's eyes and it scares how much he reminds you of rin.

but sae is different. when you are with him, you feel like you're pulled into a warm hug, like you're a bird in its nest. for some reason, sae feels to you like the matching piece of your puzzle. with rin, you always had disagreements and you were different from each other. sae, on the other hand, is similar to you in almost every shape, and while he may look cold he acts like the kindest person on earth when he's with you.

you like it. how he shows his emotional side to you and you only, making you feel special. rin couldn't do that, he didn't make you feel unique and important.

sae has never felt what he feels right now towards anyone. you're the first person able to make his cheeks warm up, or to make his mouth dry. he only ever thinks about you, to the point where he's worried about his well-being; he lives exclusively to see your pretty face, with your shining eyes and your rich lips and your silky hair.

you brought a ray of sunshine into his monotone life. every moment he passes with you feels like a drug to him; he remembers every single one of them.

like the time you told him you didn't like your name at all, and he told you he thought it was the prettiest while looking straight into your eyes, but he wasn't completely talking about the name. or when, laying on his bed, things got pretty emotional and you were confessing things to the each other and you told him under you breath how you lost your virginity to his little brother and that you missed him like crazy. in that moment, he found himself getting mad at rin for treating you like you were a puppy, but also because he got to be with you and sae didn't. or once you played together with his playstation at fifa and he beat you like 7-1, but when you scored that single goal you raised your hands in the air and made the cutest expression, then you hugged him really thightly and he felt every cell in his body heat up.

you get used to his presence, surprisingly in a few months he becomes more meaningful to you than rin has in many years. sae showed you that the kind of love you had for his brother isn't the only one to exist – the one you felt for rin was a fire ready to burn yourself and him, consuming you from inside, needy and endless, while your feelings for sae are a drop of rain that slowly falls into a vase, making the most beautiful flower grow. his love heals the scars rin left you.

the dark-haired boy reaches out to you much less frequentely now, and when he does it's just to check on each other, no big deal. your friendship is frozen now. he probably has no idea you and his older brother are estabilishing this kind of relationship, though.

sometimes you feel guilty for having loved two brothers, like you are playing around with them. but everytime you reflect on it, you come to the conclusion you can't decide who you fall in love with. sae and rin have been two periods of your life, each useful for what you needed at the time. but sae is the present.

you're aware, though, that the idilliac present you're sharing with him is rapidly coming to an end: it's august, and the spanish league restarts in a short time.

you refuse to believe the boy you fell in love with is leaving you alone – once again. while you know he won't completely abandon you and will probably facetime every evening, you are absolutely not ready to experience the same things you once did. the emptiness into your chest, the uselessness of days without his presence, the constant thoughts in your head that tell you to just stop living like this, to stop living.

you know you can tell sae anything, so you talk about it with him. it's a rainy night and you agreed to stay at his place to "hang out". when you tell him your fears, he feels the urge to protect you. seeing you so shaky and vulnerable makes sae want to hold you in his arms and never ever let anyone hurt you again – may it even be his own brother. may it even be himself.

so he cups your cheeks in his hands and looks you straight into your eyes, promising you slowly he will never leave you alone. he promises it.

he's so close to you you can feel his breath on your face, but he's close to your soul too. you feel your hearts united, tied with a string, for the first time since you've met him. and even though you've only known sae for a couple months, even though he'll leave japan soon, even though it could be wrong in someone else's eyes, you close the distance between you two and press your lips on his.

sae reacts slowly, softly, pulling you closer to him with an hand on your back as if he's afraid of hurting you. the kiss you share is sweet, tender, full of all the feelings the two of you felt during this summer. you're like two butterflies embrassingly colliding.

sae stops only to look at you, once again, in the eyes. he loves looking into your eyes, but he certainly loves you more. so he tells you. so you tell him you do too.

his eyes don't leave yours even when, a few days later, you're laying on his bed, back arching with pleasure as you two consume your relationship for the first time. sae's gaze stays chained to your shining eyes, because he's afraid that if he'll look away all of this will disappear in front of him. like this is all an amazing dream and if he blinks, he'll wake up.

it's not a dream though, and he realizes this is very much reality when you're sitting next to sae on the plane, flying to madrid. sae's hand is intertwined with yours, because you've never been on a plane and this shit is scary.

you've never left japan. and now, not only you're leaving everything you've known in your life behind your back, but you're also doing that with a boy you've known for barely three months.

yes, it may look like a risky choice, but it would have been way worse for the both of you if sae had gone back to madrid on his own. you've known each other for a short period of time, it's true, but you felt like you've loved each other since ever.

since rin left you, you understood life is too fleety to let opportunities pass past you. so once you saw sae handing over to you a chance of starting over, you caught it with both hands.

and here you are, standing in the most beautiful and luxurious apartment you've ever seen. you think what they pay sae per month is more than you would ever earn in a whole life.

as you admire the view of the spanish city from the house's window, sae places his hands around your waist and sinks his head in the crease of your neck. his hair tickles you, but you stay like this for moments that seem like hours, just the two of you, floating in your own ocean.

as weeks go by, you start to enter the rhythm of sae's life. he trains everyday, from morning to late afternoon, so you barely see him during the day. he doesn't ever make you feel neglected though, as every moment he is not training he turns all his attention to you, cuddling, playing, watching tv, eating together.

you insert in the busy life of the capital of spain too. you explore every single corner of the city, shopping from the most expensive shops you've heard (yes, with your boyfriend's credit card).

sae always invites you to his matches, making you sit in the vip section of the stadium. you have to stay there with other players' partners, and you don't really like them. they seem a little too fake to you.

but it doesn't matter; you can stand sitting next to the most irritating girl in the world if that means watching your lover play.

you coming to see him play means a lot to sae, too. when he notices you in the crowd, he suddendly feels like he's invincible. he starts to play with the heart, and people notice that. fans notice his playstyle has changed over the summer, but they cannot explain why. they can't explain why he lives football with much more enthusiasm now either. for example, he even celebrates scoring a goal now! he runs all the way down the pitch and points at something, or someone, in the stands. it's not clear what he's pointing at.

the someone always blushes, but nobody sees her.

-♡-

not much distant from there, rin itoshi is not living so well.

the boy hasn't heard from you since months. normally, you wouldn't let a few weeks pass by without texting him. rin doesn't know why, but he feels so empty.

he'd text you, he'd really do, if it wasn't for his stupid massive ego. he doesn't want to admit that he actually has the need to talk to you, and that you're hurting him with your silence.

he finds out from your instagram that you've moved to madrid, out of nowhere appearently. but you haven't told him, he found out on his own.

for all these years, you've always been the first to out to him, and it made him feel safe knowing that you still thought about him. he's selfish, he knows it, but you're the only fixed point in his life. the only thing he's sure will never leave, even if he acts like the disgusting person he is.

but now? rin's never felt you more distant. and he knows it's all his fault, he knows you should've done that ages before, but now that the actual consequences of his actions are starting to come to light, he feels guilt investing him.

throughout the teenage years you spent together, the boy has always been confused about his feelings. he couldn't tell whether what he felt towards you was platonic or actual love. he knew about your love for him, but he didn't feel like he could give you what you needed even if he wanted to. so, during the infamous party, rin tried to shut his brain off and that led him to sleep with you. and then, he was so overwhelmed by the immensity of what was happening with you he couldn't think of a rational solution. he did like you, but his future was already planned: he was going abroad to play football, become the best football player in the world, surpass even his brother, and then retire in an isolated, luxurious island. as much as he liked you, rin knows you have no place in a life like this; he didn't want you to suffer like he did when sae left to spain, therefore he decided to be as cold as he could to you. this way, you wouldn't have missed him that much.

at least that's what his messed up mind thought. now he realizes what he did was the dumbest move ever made by a person, and remorse fills him.

should he have told you that he actually liked you that night? that he was just afraid of engaging in something too big for him? should he have left you like that?

rin's mind is filled with whats and ifs. all he can think of are the past moments he spent with you, and how he should have made them last longer.

is this what it feels to miss someone? rin thinks to himself, wide awake at night. he rarely sleeps, as the regrets and overthinking keep him awake, and it's worsening his results in football.

nothing could go more wrong in his existence.

one day, he just gets tired of it. rin decides it's time to take control of his life, so he just dives into the next mistake – or maybe the next success.

"hey, book me a flight for madrid"

-♡-

in madrid, there's a couple sitting on a lonely bench. there's no one in sight, it's just the two of them. they're hugging, kissing, they're whispering honey-like words into each other's eyes.

everytime you tell yourself that couple is you and your boyfriend, you get surprised. because there's no way you're actually with the sae itoshi. he feels so much like a dream to you.

even if you're not the best football player in the world or whatever, you feel to sae just the same.

so there you are, immersed in your shared dream, under the sunset that makes sae's cheeks turn even more red. the breeze messes up all his hair, he's so cute you want to die. you pinch his puffed cheeks, making him complain saying he's not a baby, but you just hug him thighter and mutter on his hoodie you're really hungry for ice cream.

sae takes your hand and makes you stand up, telling you you're heading for the closest ice cream shop. you give him a kiss on the cheek out of happiness and start walking with him.

but as you walk, you freeze at the sight of an old acquaintance.

destiny sure is cruel, isn't it? it separates two people whose lives were supposed to be tied together only to make them meet again in the worst time. that's all you can think while you look into the teal eyes you used to love so much.

rin is standing right in front of you. after years of half-conversations and silence, he's standing right in front of you.

your jaw drops instinctively. the corners of rin's mouth turn up, warming you with an overly familiar smile. that smile brings to the surface thoughts and feeling you had buried years ago. you don't want those feelings to see daylight, not when your boyfriend is standing right next to you, unsure on his legs.

sae has always been certain of one thing: he can surpass rin in everything. but now, as he senses your grip on his hand loosen, he feels the world as he's always known it crumble under his feet.

#itoshi brothers x reader #itoshi brothers #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x y/n #rin itoshi #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi x y/n #rin x reader #rin x you #rin x y/n #sae x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock #bllk x y/n #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk #sae itoshi #rbs are appreciated!

[makeyoumine69]

Memory Reboot x2

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After wrestling with the lingering thoughts of Bateman, you finally found yourself open to Paul Allen's offer — a life-changing opportunity. But despite your resolve, you couldn't shake the need for closure. Determined, you sought one last encounter with Patrick, intent on resolving the unsaid and the undone before the cityscape of New York faded into your past.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, pegging, sex toys, face riding, penetrative sex, rimming (Patrick receiving), oral sex (69, blowjobs), edging, biting, spanking, cum shot, masturbating, praise kink, body worship, drug usage, pet names, dirty talk, needy Patrick, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation.

WORDS: 8.7k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Euphoria

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm sorry it took me quite long to write this, I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [CHAPTER 1].

The clock’s ticking was the only sound in the opulent meeting room of Pierce & Pierce office. Your heart seemed to beat to the rhyme of ticking, while you were nervously spinning the thin cigarette in your hands but never really trying to actually smoke;  the glass ashtray in front of you would probably be left empty till the end of the day. It was even funny how drastically things changed after that…moment of privacy you shared with Bateman. Starting from that, you couldn’t really get him out of your head, even though it has already been several weeks of your pretending game of “nothing had happened” between you and Patrick. It was a matter of time, when your colleagues would start to notice your strange behavior whenever you and Bateman were in one room. 

Squeezing the cigarette between your shaky fingers, you turned around in the leather chair to look at the New York skyline through the wide window. ‘That it is not an exit,’ echoed in your ears and you tried to shake the nervousness off from your tense shoulders, but the more you were being alone, the more surrounding space was weighing on you as if you were on the very bottom of the Pacific ocean. 

The moment the door swung open and Timothy Bryce entered the meeting room, you were more in control of yourself. “Hey, Tim. Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Sorry, (y/n). Had a business call with some delusional prick.” Bryce snarled and took a seat across from you.

“Delusional prick?”

"Yeah, you know...delusional," he chuckled and glanced at the cigarette in your hand, which was still more like an accessory. "The guy thought I gave a fuck about his life and his wife, who used to be a whore, by the way."

With a soft snicker, you made yourself more comfortable in your chair, throwing one leg over another. “Wanna smoke?”

“Yep,” he leaned over the table to take the cigarette, your fingers touched for a moment but none of you paid attention. “So, what happened? Why did you want to see me?”

Confused, you took a moment to think about your answer. You worried a lot about picking the right words, but now you were even more anxious. ‘I just need to tell him the truth and that’s all,’ you reassured yourself before turning to face Tim. “Well, the thing is - I’m quitting P & P.”

Tim’s face remained unchanged for a second, but then the man furrowed his brows, tilting his head and rubbing his ear as if he didn’t hear. “You're what? Quitting?”

"Right," you gave him a half-smile and continued. "Recently, I received a very... very good offer from one company in Chicago."

“Jesus Christ. Chicago? Really?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Bryce lit the cigarette and leaned back in his chair. “Who the fuck even gave you this idea? And why so sudden? You have such a good job here, with a good salary and…” He paused and blew a few rings of smoke. “Do those bastards pay well?”

Laughing heartily, you crossed your arms over your chest and watched the smoke dividing the room in two with a white veil. “So many questions. Are you interested in leaving Pierce & Pierce too?”  That was not a serious question, since you knew that Bryce was more than satisfied with his job. “If I say who recommended that place to me, will you keep it a secret?” Tim nodded even before you could say something else. “I was at one P&P party, that one you decided to skip a week ago. So, there I met Paul Allen and we talked a bit and he mentioned that he just came back from his business trip from Chicago…we had a long conversation, but as a result he proposed to me to think about the option to change my current job.”

All the time while you were speaking, Tim was glancing at you with wide open eyes, his prominent brows curling up and down whenever you mentioned Paul Allen’s name. It was always funny for you to watch Bateman & Co getting so frustrated and annoyed whenever Allen was around or whenever someone discussed his success with having the Fisher account. To say the least, his ability to get a reservation at Dorsia. ‘I’m not gonna tell any of them that Allen offered me dinner in Dorsia after that party.’

“So you were unsatisfied with your job all this time and didn’t say anything? That sucks, (y/n). Didn’t expect that to come, not gonna lie,” Bryce made a low sound which was very similar to growling, but at the same time it also sounded like a scoff. “But, if that really is what you want, then who am I to judge you? We have only one life to fulfill all our needs, right?”

Timothy’s statement was like a balm to your soul, that was exactly what you hoped he would tell you and when he did, you felt some kind of relief washing over you like a breeze of fresh air.

“Thank you, Tim,” you finally grinned and put your elbows on the table. “Glad you didn’t start to read me notations.”

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Him?” You squinted and tilted your head; your intuition was screaming that something was so damn wrong.

“Bateman,” with a sly smile, Bryce put the cigarette out in a glass ashtray; his glance was eloquent but you never really managed to read it. “I bet he will be upset. Very upset.”

“Bryce ” you rolled your eyes. ‘Is he lying or…?’ That question remained unspoken. “Leave these cheesy jabs to yourself, okay?”

Tim only laughed at your weak attempt to threaten him and stood up from the table. “You know, I saw him with Jean in Arcadia last night…” Now this information could come in handy… “I think they had some kind of date or something, huh,” he chuckled again and fixed his tie, giving the picture on the opposite wall a scrutinizing glance. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but something is definitely happening. In my opinion, you should tell him about your…unexpecting leaving, you know.”

Before you could respond, Timothy Bryce looked at you one last time and left the meeting room. Now, you were left alone but not really alone as the weight of the newfound information lay on your shoulders like two massive dumbbells. ‘If everything is too obvious for Bryce, what other things might the others think about me and Bateman?’ That was a rhetorical question mostly, but still you couldn’t even get up from the chair, sensing the strange, chilling fear inside your chest—what if you were mistaken with accepting the offer of a new job?

Gritting your teeth, you snarled and almost kicked the table from beneath, your palms were clenching and unclenching, thankfully no one could see you like this. Swiftly but nervously, you finally stood up and headed out from the meeting room, striving to avoid any of your soon-to-be-ex colleagues on your way to Bateman’s office. 

How many times have you rehearsed the words you were going to say while you were walking up there? Countless. But still, when you entered Patrick's office and saw his lovely secretary, everything inside you froze - words, emotions, even your breath.

“Hi, Jean,” you mumbled, with a half-smile on your slightly tensed face. “Looking good.”

“Uh, thank you,” the blonde woman replied and fixed the stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

As soon as you heard the echo of Patrick's voice through the office door, a lump formed in your throat and you had to cough several times because of the unpleasant dryness.

“Well,” you paused and glanced at the closed door with a nameplate ‘Patrick Bateman’ on it. “You would help me a lot if you let me have a private conversation with your boss.”

“Patrick is,” her voice suddenly wavered, implying that something was wrong. “He’s busy right now.”

“Oh,” you stepped back involuntarily. “Okay, I can come later.”

“No,” Jean replied curtly. “I’m sorry, but today is not an option at all.”

‘Is that some kind of joke?’ You hummed to yourself, already regretting coming here in the first place. “All right then. Have a nice day, Jean.” Turning around you already stepped out from the office when you head her voice:

“(Y/n), wait. Oh, I hope I pronounced your name correctly.” She blushed once you came back inside. “I think I can tell him about your visit, when he will be less busy.”

That offer was not something you would expect. “Actually, that would be nice,” you clicked on your tongue, considering your next steps. “Tell him that I have a reservation at Dorsia at eight o’clock–”

“Today?” Her question cut off your bluffing. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

You just grinned politely in return. “Yep, today. Tell him…that I need to talk with him about business and stuff. And, that it would be probably the last chance for him to catch up with me.” Jean’s eyes widened for a moment, but you reassured her instantly. “No drama, just changing my job.”

“Uh, that was probably a tough decision?”

“Not really,” you winked at her and crossed your arms over the chest. “But don’t tell him about that, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” She tried to hide her confusion behind a warm smile but failed. “I’ll tell him that you will be waiting for him at Dorsia tonight and that this conversation is very important.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed and for a moment just stood there, looking at the closed office door. “Thank you, darling. For everything.”

You made a special accent on the word ‘darling’, purposely embarrassing her and leaving no room for any questions and other stuff that would make a current situation even more fucked up. 

After you left Bateman’s office you had to find Allen as only half of what you told Jean was actually bluffing—you knew that Paul had a reservation at Dorsia tonight, considering he was inviting you for dinner. Allen’s strange interest in you wasn’t your top priority at that moment but using it for your sake was something you couldn’t deny at such a situation. So when you finally found Paul in one of the meeting rooms, you persuaded him to give you that reservation, explaining that you wanted to show one of your colleagues Dorsia before you would leave New York and move to Chicago. And even though everyone would find out that that colleague was Patrick Bateman, you wouldn't’ care since you would be far away from here.

A few hours later, the melodious voice of Whitney Houston reverberated off the walls of the opulent living room in Bateman's apartment, the lyrics of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," which Patrick knew perfectly, striking a chord in his chest every time the song came on.

But today everything was different.

Everything, except some random blonde bimbo who was on her knees between Bateman’s spread legs, sucking his thick cock but not actually giving him any pleasure. Frustrated, the man tugged on her hair without any compassion, bringing her closer, so her nose was almost brushing against his hairy pubis. But almost immediately, the woman began to whimper and claw at the perfect skin of his hips, and he didn't like it.

“What? Already tired?” Bateman sneered and fixated the blonde’s head in one place for a moment by her neck. “Or is that your first time? Then, I’m so fucking honored!"

As soon as the man let the blonde go, she pushed him away and sat back on her ass, breathing heavily. “Are you crazy?” the bimbo inquired and pressed a hand to her half-exposed breasts, her whole appearance looked messy. “I was about…t-to choke on your fucking dick!”

Sighing, Bateman rolled his eyes and just stretched out on the couch, lazily stroking his half-hard shaft. "So, this is your first time?" The woman hesitated to answer, which only made Patrick mock her even more. "Did you tell me that you have a boyfriend? And he works at P&P, right?"

Wiping her mouth with undisguised contempt, the blonde started to get up, but Patrick stepped on the hem of her dress and she almost fell. "Marcus! Stop it!"

"Uh, look at you," the man chuckled, watching her feeble attempts to get up. "Such a pathetic little bitch, pathetic and greedy," the man added, giggling. "Ready to give head to every vice president at Pierce & Pierce! Your boyfriend should be so proud of you."

The woman was on the verge of tears when Bateman finally allowed her to get up and collect her things. She had been in such a hurry that she had left her panties on the glass coffee table. All this gave Patrick much more pleasure than the blonde's inexperienced blowjob.

"Ask your boyfriend to teach you how to suck dicks," he blurted out as the woman rushed into the hallway, rifling through her purse looking for something. "Since he's probably a pro at that sort of thing."

But the girl was already gone. So the man could only laugh to himself, so proud of his cheeky jabs, if only he didn't feel like a schoolboy dreading his upcoming meeting with his teacher. With a heavy sigh, Bateman closed his eyes for a second, his cock was already soft, but his sac were still tense and full of his cum; he felt too unsatisfied with himself, which only made things worse.

What was it even for?

The man could just take some coke, lie down on his bed, close his eyes and think of you—that was enough for him to cum so hard that he had to go to the laundry almost every day because he ran out of sheets. But today was different, considering that Patrick was going to meet you, and not just anywhere, but in fucking Dorsia. It seemed that everyone in this town could get a res there, but not him.

Biting his lower lip, the man looked down at the throbbing cock in his hand - the mere thought of you was making him horny as hell. "Shit…" If only he could reboot his memory and get rid of that scene in the Tunnel. If only. Meanwhile, the Whitney Houston tape continued to play the song "Where Do Broken Hearts Go". Bateman doubted he would be able to masturbate, he was too nervous and stressed out, even imagining you while that bitch was giving him head didn't work. Although it usually did. "Dorsia, huh," the man giggled nervously and checked his Rolex - he still had plenty of time. As if spellbound, Patrick slid to the floor and kicked off his leather shoes, his red tie already loosened and his pants hiked down. Leaning against the couch, Bateman threw his head back and began to jack off, recalling the forbidden, sinful sensations of your hand sliding along his hot flesh. "Mmm-fuck," he moaned and shivered, his free hand already gripping the edge of the white couch, several beads of sweat running down his tense temples. What if today he finally found the courage to confess? Confess that all these days had been a fucking torture for him, that he was ready to crawl on the walls from how much he longed for you, not even physically, but mentally. Maybe, just maybe, your reassurance that everything was not over for him, that maybe he still had a chance to have some normalcy in this cruel world—could change everything?

"Fuck, f-fuck!" Patrick cursed, sensing that his impending orgasm was slipping away from him just by reflecting on the things that were happening between the two of you. Jerking off and thinking about your sexy voice, your hot body and your cheeky smile was one thing, it always turned him on better than anything else, but thinking about the complexity of your relationship… that was not a turn-on for him. Not at all. Cursing to himself, Patrick slicked back his auburn hair and quickly got up to stagger to the bathroom, where he nervously opened the cabinet behind the mirror and found a small white jar of pills. Xanax was his only stress reliever so far. Taking a deep, almost desperate breath, Bateman looked at his reflection, his bloodshot eyes full of tears that threatened to cascade down like a waterfall. "This is not an exit." Patrick told his reflection, but opened the jar anyway and took a handful of pills. Frustrated, unsatisfied, he didn't know how he was going to survive dinner with you, and Dorsia was the last thing on his mind. "Because I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared."

Luckily, the marble walls of his bathroom were the only witnesses to his downfall.

Dawn came to New York faster than you could imagine. All the way to Dorsia you were nervous, but still confident in the plan you had made earlier that day. Even though you had failed in your previous attempt to dot the T's at the Tunnel, today would be different, you were sure of it. ‘I don't even know why, though,’ you chuckled to yourself, and the taxi driver gave you a concerned glance, but you just shrugged it off, signaling him to concentrate on the road.

In the restaurant everything looked the same as when you were here with Paul Allen, but this time you were not the one who was invited, but the one who invited another person—named Patrick Bateman—and speaking of whom, was late and that made you quite anxious. ‘What if he just doesn’t come?’ This thought made you fidget in the chair, your hands fumbling with the napkin on your knees and after telling the waiter for the second time that you were expecting someone else to come, your fingers became cold as if they were frozen. 

“Maybe I can bring you some drinks?” The waiter didn’t give up, spurring you to order at least something to drink.

Quickly running a hand across your strained face, you exhaled loudly and nodded. “Yeah, drinks,” you stummered when you looked past the waiter, noticing the familiar elegant silhouette coming close to your table. “Can you…bring…some water?”

Confused, the waiter glanced down at the full glass of water next to you. “Uh, more water?”

“(Y/n),” Bateman’s voice echoed across the space. “I hope I didn't make you wait for so long,” he chuckled and took a seat at the table. “Had some important business affairs.” The moment he noticed the confused waiter, Patrick gave him his most sassy smile and checked his Rolex for no reason, probably just to show them out. “Can you please bring me a glass of J&B and some fresh salad to your taste.”

‘A salad, really?’ You almost snickered, but instead your face turned into a neutral expression. "Business, huh?"

Bateman rested more comfortably in his chair after the waiter finally left. "You know, some affairs with blonde hair and long legs, big tits and an amazing ass."

That came out of nowhere. 

Still calm, you watched the man across from you smile, surely proud of himself and so damn bossy it was almost absurd. "You mean someone in particular, don't you?"

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick put his both elbows on the table, clasping his hands, revealing his gold Rolex once again. “Her name is Stephany, if I’m not mistaken, she’s a girlfriend of one of our accountants,” the man paused before snickering. “That one who makes monthly reports, you know him. So, I’m a bit late because I couldn't leave such a lovely girl without a treat she deserved.”

Right now, you didn't care if it was true or not—his well-framed—confidence was something you found very interesting and even amusing, as it was proof that he was preparing for this dinner just like you were.

"And that's when I thought vice presidents actually worked at Pierce & Pierce." With a slight grin, you joked and finally took a sip of water, feeling your throat suddenly go dry, just like when you were talking to Jean earlier.

Bateman's sudden laugh rang out like shattered glass. "'C'mon, (y/n), don't pretend you don't know that-"

"I know that your father owns almost half of the company," you interrupted him abruptly, and he wasn't happy about it. "And that gives you certain privileges."

"Don't be envious. It doesn't suit you."

"Envious?" You set the glass of water aside. "I think it was me who invited you here so that you could finally visit Dorsia… at least once."

The air between the two of you was thick with venom and something even more poisonous. Nevertheless, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't think Bateman was acting like the jerk he undoubtedly was. But, to be honest, you expected him to act a little less smug.

"I still think this place is overrated," Patrick hissed through clenched teeth right as the waiter brought him his whiskey and salad with sliced vegetables and some cheese, which he didn't even touch, taking a big gulp of his drink. "So, uh, Jean told me you wanted to talk to me about something important. What is it?"

The waiter didn't even try to offer to check the menu again and retreated, but he would definitely come back later with the same request, since you hadn't ordered anything yet.

"Well, it doesn't seem to matter anymore," you suddenly declared, crumpling the paper napkin before dropping it on the finest tablecloth. "The thing is—I'm quitting P&P and moving to Chicago. That's it. Nothing special, really."

The moment of silence washed over them both like a tidal wave. Visibly shocked, Bateman just sat there, then nervously straightened his tie and looked around as if to call for help. 'Not so ballsy anymore, Patty?' There was something about the way he was humiliated, something that stirred a burning flame in your gut that came dangerously close to burning you alive from the inside. And again, you would be lying to yourself if you pretended you could control it.

"Chicago?" Patrick repeated as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"Why do both you and Bryce react as if Chicago were a desert island?"

"Heh," Bateman rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair. "So Bryce knows everything. Why am I not surprised?"

"I'd tell you more," that was the moment you'd been waiting for so long—the moment of his vulnerability, and you couldn't stop yourself like a shark who sensed blood in the water. "Paul Allen was the one who actually recommended this job to me."

Patrick's jaw clenched at the mention of Paul Allen. "Really?"

"Yes," you continued to corner him. "One day we were having dinner, here, in Dorsia," you grinned, catching every little change in Bateman's no longer confident face. "He said one of his buddies was starting a new company, and they were looking for specialists… like me."

"Well," he began, sliding his hand across the table's surface as if to calm down. "Good for you, (y/n). Congratulations!" That was the most fake 'congratulations' you ever heard, even though you were expecting a slightly different reaction. "But I don't understand. Why didn't you talk to me before? Before you made your decision."

This question almost made you choke. 'Did he really say that?' And just as you were about to answer, the waiter came across the table again, choosing the perfect moment. Before he could offer to check the menu, you raised your hand in an irritating gesture. "Bring me a vodka and orange juice," Patrick's eyebrows arched almost immediately. "Double vodka, please."

"Yes, s-sure." The waiter stuttered before taking the crumpled napkin and walking away, very stressed.

Without giving yourself time to think, you leaned against the table and muttered. "Why should I? We are not friends."

"Of course not," Bateman scowled, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the black pinstriped suit outlining his physique perfectly. "Not after you gave me a decent handjob in the Tunnel bathrooms."

Patrick caught you off guard by injecting this argument so blatantly into the conversation. "Decent? It was fucking amazing." You growled and quickly turned around to see if anyone was paying attention to your table, and when you were sure there was nothing to worry about, you faced Patrick again. "Too amazing, considering you seem to be thinking about it all the time."

"W-what? I… I didn't…"

Sneering, you tapped your fingers on the table in nervous anticipation of your drinks, even though you hadn't planned on drinking any alcohol, wanting to keep yourself as sober as possible for the dinner and everything that might or might not happen afterwards.

"Relax, Bateman," you rested your chin on your clasped hands, finally allowing yourself to examine his handsome appearance, including the way his cheeks were tinged with a red hue. "You've said too much already."

And from that moment on, you began to feel relaxed, even pleased with all the things Patrick revealed to you, accidentally or not, you would use every little detail to your own advantage when the time came.

A little later, when the waiter finally brought your cocktail, you finished it too quickly, so you asked for it to be repeated under the attentive hazel eyes of the man sitting on the other side of the table. The more drunk you got, the more topics you discussed, but when you mentioned Paul Allen again, you noticed that Patrick's good mood was fading.

"Wait a minute!" You held out a hand to stop him from jumping from one topic to another. "Can you tell me why the mere mention of Paul Allen triggers you so much? Is there something between you two?"

Bateman couldn't hold back a loud, hearty laugh. "That joke's too tasteless even for Bryce," he finished his whiskey, the salad still untouched on the table in front of him. "Allen…he's…not the person he tries to pretend to be."

"Oh?"

"I think he's part of that Yale thing."

You narrowed your eyes and leaned in closer. "Yale thing? What do you mean?"

Patrick quickly licked his lips, not expecting you to delve further into the subject. "Well, I think he's probably a closeted homosexual who likes to do a lot of coke and have orgies with male hookers."

At first you just giggled out loud, not caring that some people were looking at you, but then your face suddenly became serious. "How do you know about that? Did he tell you or…" you smiled playfully. "Did he do something… that made you think so," you bit your lower lip and drank the last drop of your cocktail with unabashed thirst. "That sounds strange…very strange."

"You're drunk, (y/n)," Bateman murmured, tilting his hand as if thinking about something. "Too drunk, which gives me the impression that you're as much of an amateur at drinking as you are at doing coke."

"Uh, s-shut up."

"See? Can't even speak words."

"Maybe...maybe I am drunk, now what? Are you gonna be a fucking gentleman like you always try to be and offer me a ride? Or maybe," you fixed your hair nonchalantly, your vision slightly blurred. "Would you be brave enough to show me your apartment?"

As soon as those words came out of your mouth, you knew there was no turning back, and your inner voice, which usually kept you from doing shit you would regret, seemed to fall asleep from the high level of alcohol in your system.

The man across from you straightened up at your bold suggestion, reading the subtext with ease. "Is that what you want? For me to take you to my place?"

His question hung in the air for a moment before you managed to come up with an answer, but you didn't know how to get out of this situation and turn it into a joke, as you usually did. Maybe you just didn't want to get out of it? Just like you didn't want to let him go when he helped you get up from the table after he'd paid for dinner and the two of you were in a cab. Not to mention when you almost fell down and the man caught you in his arms, but there was still a barrier between the two of you—an invisible wall—the only line that kept you apart. The line that was too dangerous to cross, but too tempting not to think about what lay behind it.

By the time the cab pulled up at the American Gardens Building, you were half asleep on Bateman's shoulder, his Lancome cologne not helping at all, making your mind even more cloudy. But you did your best to get out of the car without his help, letting the cool fresh air bring you some relief and clarity. 

In the elevator, Patrick began to mumble about his musical preferences, but you didn't really pay attention because your brain was overworked trying to come up with a plan B in case things went too far. 'As if they hadn't gone too far already,' your inner voice suddenly tried to break through the thick layers of alcohol, affection and uncontrollable desire.

Bateman's apartment looked exactly as you had imagined—opulent, stylish, and very minimalist. Everything seemed to be in its place, including you, standing next to the tall window in his living room.

"Not a bad view," you admitted, taking off the jacket of your suit. "Not Central Park, but not bad at all."

"Central Park?" Patrick asked, hiding in the kitchen, which was perfectly connected to the living room, but you couldn't see him behind the wall as he examined the large number of different kitchen knives.

"Yeah, you know, Paul Allen's apartment faces Central Park, looks really fancy," you didn't mean to hurt Bateman's feelings, but the moment you turned around and saw him, it was obvious that your words had reached him. "But, I really prefer your place...it's more modern for my taste."

Puzzled, Patrick didn't hurry to join you in the living room, his thin fingers never ceasing to slide up and down the sharp blade in his hand, but at the very last moment, the man put the knife back in its place. With deliberate steps, he walked out of the kitchen and approached his stereo system.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, as if his life depended on your answer.

Such a reaction from him was oddly appealing, the vulnerability, the desperation in his brown eyes. This was a level of satisfaction that no drug could ever match. Meanwhile, Bateman turned on the music, the charming voice of Phil Collins filling the room as "Invisible Touch" began to play.

The man was examining the tape in his hands when you slowly approached and gently cupped his face, inducing him to look at you. "Yes, I do," you confirmed your previous words, and when Patrick didn't flinch from your touch, you decided to go on, tracing your finger along his sensual lips, fighting the urge to kiss them here and now. "Speaking of preferences," you removed your hand only to place it on the lapel of his suit. "Would you be a good boy and give me a full tour of your apartment, including the bedroom?"

In any other situation, you would probably die from shame at saying something like that, but not now. Not with him, because no sooner had your question escaped your lips than you noticed that his hands were shaking, and the CD was about to fall out of them, so you had to gently grab it and pull it out of his hands. Bateman reminded you of a man struggling with addiction, every twitch of his plump lips, every furrow of his perfect eyebrows spoke volumes about the undeniable affection between the two of you, an affection you were both too exhausted to fight and hide.

Without further ado, you placed the CD on top of the stereo and pressed Patrick against the nearest wall, holding the lapels of his Valentino suit and sealing his hot mouth with yours, opening it wider with your tongue, so eager to taste him again after such a long wait.

"Mmhm," he purred into the kiss, his hands desperately wrapped around your waist, then going lower to cradle your hips, groping and squeezing a little too hard so that you had to bite his lip to make him stop, but the man just growled and pushed you closer, your groins rubbing against each other in the most lewd way possible. "Bedroom...go to the bedroom...and wait for me there."

Bateman's words right after the kiss sounded like nonsense, which you found oddly arousing. With a foxy smile, you licked his cheek, then his neck, almost biting the artery and sucking on the reading mark. "No, no, no, Bateman," you shook your head, grabbing his neck slightly to kiss him again, but he did it first. Even now Patrick was trying to take the lead, your tongues fighting for control like two snakes entwining around each other. "I'm in no mood for games or waiting."

The moment you said it, Bateman lifted you with practiced ease as if you weighed nothing, and you didn't even have a chance to protest as he began to move toward the closed room behind his white couch. In his arms, you finally felt complete, even if you let him take the lead for a while. Noticing the pair of panties on the glass coffee table, you wrapped your legs around him and buried your fingers in his silky hair, ruffling them and letting them fall on his forehead, making him look even hotter.

Jesus, you were on the verge of an explosion just from the foreplay alone.

Bateman's bedroom greeted you with stark white walls, the brightness of which was almost painful to look at as he turned on the light holding you with one arm, and the king-size bed on which he carefully placed you, but you didn't let him pull away, tugging at his tie and forcing him to lay on top of you.

"Fuck, look at you," Patrick grazed your earlobe before massaging your chest through your shirt and hovering over you. "So insatiable, aren't you? Running in circles like a trapped kitten."

Growling, you pulled him closer again to suck on his lower lip, letting your body rub against his so you could feel how hard he was, so painfully hard, considering the sound he made when you snaked your hand between his legs to cradle his bulge. "Are you gonna cum in your pants if I don't stop?"

With a determined persistence, you continued to massage his hard cock through the layers of his expensive clothes as you removed his jacket and then his suspenders, one by one. Bateman didn't interfere as he was also busy getting rid of your clothes without actually tearing them apart.

"Let me," you insisted as soon as you noticed him struggling to unbutton your shirt. "This is my favorite shirt, you know," you gasped, your own fingers trembling, making it difficult even for you to finally remove your shirt. "I don't want it to get torn."

When you finally got rid of the top part of your clothes, the sight of your exposed skin made Patrick grunt in hunger, and the next second the man was already sucking on your nipple, his muscular frame shaking on top of you from your teasing ministrations on his twitching dick and hard balls. Damn, you wanted to suck him dry as much as you wanted to ruin him until he forgot his own name.

"Don't like it anyway," Bateman muttered suddenly, holding your hands above your head. "You need to go to some... fashion shows... maybe you will have more free time in Chicago, considering Paul Allen offered you this job. I'm sure it would be some boring shit."

‘Good Lord, he mentioned him again…’ You rolled your eyes and turned away from his face, eliciting a low rumble from Patrick's massive chest. "What the fuck is wrong with Paul... are you... jealous of him or something?"

"Me?" he asked, confused and you took the opportunity to release your hands and roll over so that you were now on top of him. "I'm not the one bragging about having dinner with him in fucking Dorsia!"

Bateman sounded like a little boy who was upset that no one wanted to play with him, which made you giggle, but then you straddled him and opened his white shirt and removed his tie.

"The more you talk," you murmured as you ran your hands along the smooth skin of his torso, paying special attention to his toned pecs and abs. "The more you make me think you two had a history," you leaned down to teasingly lick his lips, your sneaky hands already working on the zipper of his pants. "But still, I don't care." In one swift motion, you pulled down his pants along with his boxers, watching his thick cock pop out, yearning for your attention. "Mhmm, the last time we were alone you worked me up really good, I wanna return the favor," your hands wrapped around the base of his beefy shaft, the small droplets of his pre-cum already covering its tip, forcing you to lick your lips in hunger. "If you have nothing else on your mind?"

Did you really care about his feelings since you asked him that question? 

The man beneath you was definitely growing impatient, his hands gripping your hips as if he was about to imprint his fingerprints on your skin if you were not wearing your pants. 

"Lie on your side," Bateman suggested suddenly. "Take off all your clothes and lie down here," he tapped the spot next to him and you stood up quickly, as if he had cast a spell on you. Never in your life did you get rid of your clothes faster than now. "Uh, what a cute ass you have, (y/n)."

You frowned at his words, giving him your dead stare as you slipped out of your underwear, giving him the full view—the glint in his hazel eyes was too much to ignore—so you turned around and presented yourself to him; Bateman couldn't help but lazily stroked himself, putting a hand under his head. 

"Tell me, Bateman," you began, your hands slowly sliding down your bare skin. "Have you been thinking about me all this time?" You cupped your ass, bending over a little so he could see the spot right between your legs. "Or have you found a way to forget things you don't want to remember?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a second. "I wish there was a way to forget." Patrick murmured and watched as you lay on your side in the 69 position, then he did the same, his hot breath scorching the soft flesh between your thighs. 

You wrapped your hands around his hips and eagerly took his drooling dick in your mouth, while he was lapping at your crotch. "Mm-fuck," you jerked against his face, your fingers digging deeper into his skin as Bateman feasted on you like the most delicious meal. "Me too, Bateman, m-me too."

Having said that, you swirled your tongue around the swollen tip of his veiny cock, causing a muffled moan to erupt from his mouth, its vibration sending shivers down the base of your spine, only spurring you on to go further, pushing his dick deeper into your mouth. Soon the room was filled with the soft, wet sounds of your shared oral pleasure, punctuated by soft but powerful moans and groans as you both teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Gripping your ass, Bateman responded to your actions with the same passion, devouring every drop of your flavor and giving you no chance to escape, his strong arms like ropes around your body. After giving his cock the attention it deserved, you decided to tease his heavy balls with light lapping on them, before slipping a finger inside his tight ass, you expected him to protest but instead you heard him moan and the next moment his hips began to move towards your penetrating movements.

"Good boy," you praised him, rolling your eyes at the way the man was sucking on your most sensitive spot. "Taking my finger so well..."

The coil in your lower abdomen was about to snap at any moment, but you still wanted more, you wanted to feel that cock inside you, even if it was going to rip you a apart. Breathlessly, you didn't even remember asking him about condoms, and how you managed to get out of bed and go to the closet, where you found a little box Bateman was talking about—its contents almost made you gasp in awe, so you decided to take it with you.

"Well, well," you crooned as you stepped back into the bedroom. "Should I ask you what this is or are you going to tell me?"

With a wide grin, you held out a large purple dildo, Patrick's eyes twitched and he gulped, leaning on his elbows. "I... I use it with hookers," the man confessed, licking his glistening lips covered with your juices. "Why?"

"Hmmm, you like watching women play with it?" You asked as you reached the bed. "How about actually using it and not just watching?"

Damn, you could swear you saw his breath catch in his throat, his muscles tense and his dick throbbing just at the mention of using that sex toy on him. 'So he likes that idea, what a naughty boy,' you chuckled to yourself and took your place on the bed next to him. "This is going to feel so good, baby," you brought the dildo to his lips, suggesting that he lick it for lubrication, and when he did, you could barely keep yourself from cumming, just from the sight of his tongue flicking around the tip of the silicone sex toy. "Get on your knees and let me take care of you."

"Fuck," Bateman cursed, but it was too late to turn back. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, the man got down on all fours and gave you full access to his firm ass, which you immediately fondled, spreading his buttocks and biting them one by one. "Mmh-hmm, (y/n)."

"Relax," you stroked his hips, kissing the lower part of his back just above the dimples that were too sexy to ignore. "God, you have such a beautiful body," you decided to praise him, knowing the effect it would have on him. "I would worship it forever if I could," which was only half true, or maybe...it was not. Leisurely, you showered his soft skin with little peaks here and there, dotting it with your marks of love, not even realizing that you were giving all of yourself to the process.

As you pressed the tip of the dildo against his puckered muscle ring, Patrick tensed at your touch, gripping the sheets and closing his eyes, so overwhelmed and confused at the same time, but your reassuring hand on his trembling one encouraged him to look back at you as you hovered over him to kiss his lips, his neck, his shoulder.

"(Y/n)," Bateman suddenly huffed through his clenched teeth. "I want you to..." he gasped as you flickered your wet finger around his tight asshole. "...fuck."

"You want me to feast on that delicious ass of yours?" You finished the sentence for him, grinning in pure gratification at his complete submission. "Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, y-yes," he grasped the sheets and positioned himself more comfortably on all fours— a clear sign that he was not used to this position and you couldn't miss it. "I want to feel your tongue... all over me."

"Shit, Bateman, you're a real sweet talker." With that you put the dildo on the bed next to you and before you knew it you were spreading his ass cheeks wide open to make a flat lick along his tight hole. "I wanna hear you," you gently but insistently probed his ass with your warm tongue, giving him several slaps on the buttocks that drove the man wild as you felt his velvet walls tighten around your tongue. "Good boy, c'mon, spread it out for me."

Blushing, Patrick used both hands to spread himself for your eager ministrations as you fucked him with your tongue while your hands traveled all around his hips before you wrapped one of them around his pulsating cock, fuck, he was so close, you could tell by the way his balls tensed when you gave them a slight squeeze.

"Don't cum until I let you," you commented and the next moment you were already pushing the sleek sex toy into his ass and this time he accepted it gradually, taking it in with ease—the sight made you gasp but you focused on giving him pleasure. "Tell me, Bateman, how does it feel?"

The question remained unanswered for a brief moment as you began to slid the dildo in and out, stimulating his prostate and causing him to shake and whimper in pure bliss, but when you decided to add fuel to the fire by jerking him off and sucking on his strained sac, Patrick could barely contain himself, his legs about to give way at any moment.

"F-fuck, a-aahhh, mmhhmm," he murmured into the pillow, his hands finding their way to your messy hair, gripping them almost to the point of pain. "I...c-can't...hold...it any longer," Bateman's wailing bounced off the walls of his luxurious bedroom, which had never seen anything like it before. "I..."

Though you wanted him to last longer, you were too overwhelmed yourself, feeling the string in your belly ready to burst. "Let it go," your words were like a balm to his ears as, just a moment later, his cock pulsed in your grasp, spraying loads of his thick cum across the Chinese sheets that Patrick had always been so fond of. "That's it…" You didn't stop fucking him with a dildo, nor did you stop pumping his throbbing dick, milking it until the last drop of his seed. "Good boy, you're such a good boy." 

Panting, you pulled out the sex toy, covered in his slick, and brought it to his trembling lips, inducing him to suck it before taking it into your mouth, feeling the mixture of tastes on the tip of your tongue. Then, Bateman rolled onto his back, desperately gasping for air, his cock still hard. That was fucking phenomenal, but you didn't comment, thinking about your own orgasm at last. Locking your eyes with Patrick's hazel ones, you touched yourself the moment he beckoned you over, and without words, you mounted his flushed, sweaty face, riding it as desperately as you could, using his tongue and lips without shame. Tilting your head back, you grabbed his head and almost clawed at his scalp, feeling your insides about to fucking explode from the tension. So when you peaked, your scream could be heard all over Bateman's apartment. The orgasms you had before were nothing compared to this. It took everything from you, it made you die and rise again.

The final chord of the parade of shameless lust was when you let him fuck you in a way you didn't even expect. Spooning you from behind after he put the condom on, the man lifted your leg and sheathed himself inside of you till the hilt, making you feel so full you had to wrinkle the fabric underneath, but that was just the beginning as Bateman pulled you closer, trapping you in his arms like a cocoon, his tongue sliding around your ear shell with undisguised affection,

"Mmhmm, fuck, you're...so perfect," the man whispered into your ear, setting up the pace and resting his hand between your legs for extra stimulation. "Holy fuck! I'm cumming again, omh-shit..."

"Fuck m-me, yeah, just...l-like that...a-ahhh," you coaxed him to fuck you harder as you suddenly found yourself on the verge of climaxing again. "Gimme everything, baby, a-awww...goshhhhhhhh," you were the first to fall over the principle of pleasure, twitching along his body as if you were hit by the electric shock, all your nerves were on fire. "Bateman, mmhm-fuck-fuck! Your dick feels s-so good.."

Your vivid orgasm became the last straw for his second release as you felt him bite at your neck, his buffed frame shaking in spasms of pure rapture, you even had to hold back a scream from how painfully Patrick's hands squeezed your hips, but it was pleasurable pain of being ruined, of being fucked into a wet mess. Barely breathing, you didn't even remember how you passed out from exhaustion and for the first time in the last few days you fell asleep completely satisfied and happy.

When the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds into Bateman's bedroom, you were already awake, as was he, but since you were lying with your back to his face, you didn't notice until the man kissed your shoulder, snuggled up against your neck, and made you roll over to face him.

As you did so, you dared to look directly into the brown eyes still clouded by the aftermath of your shared pleasure. "Hey." He muttered in a husky voice.

"Hey," you murmured back, hugging the pillow. "Did you sleep well?"

“Surprisingly—yes," the man stretched his arms, flexing his muscles and checking himself in the mirror on the other side of the room, which you hadn't even noticed. "(Y/n), I want you to go to the office and tell everyone that you're not going anywhere."

Shocked, you blinked several times, not knowing what to say as you hadn't expected anything like this.

With a nervous chuckle that turned into a hearty laugh, you rolled onto your back before sitting up on the bed. "Oh God, you're such a little Delulu, it's even funny," you looked at him—his face was nothing but a blank space without any visible emotions. "Did you really think that random sex would change my mind about changing jobs?" You chuckled again, louder this time. "I mean, the sex was really good, but... it's not like I'm going to give everything for this, you know?" With that, you got up from the bed and wrapped a blanket around yourself. "Can I take a shower?”

Trapped in the thought that only he could know, Patrick rolled onto his back, his eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the ceiling above him. "Yes," he murmured, barely audible. "Do whatever you want."

Walking towards the bathroom, you suddenly stopped and turned half around. "You better forget it," you said, savoring every word and finally returning the favor. "Maybe ask Paul Allen for advice," you grinned as you watched Bateman close his eyes in a feeble attempt to distance himself from everything that had happened. "Maybe he knows something about memory reboot machines that can help."

Without waiting for his answer, you continued on your way to the bathroom. Even though you were pleased with yourself, your revenge didn't taste sweet, but bitter, and its bitterness would remain on the tip of your tongue even after you washed yourself clean under the hot streams of water.

But the game was worth the candle, as they said.

Was it?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader #gn reader

[onlyseokmins]

$$60 billion (part 2) • l.s.m.

How did a legendary bounty promised for turning in the wasteland's most infamous outlaw transform into a sick, little inside betting joke amongst your traveling companions? Though you have no idea why they're doing it… you sure as hell don't want that very same gunslinger comrade worth sixty billion double dollars to know anything about it either — but oops — looks like he already does! Damn you and your temper, some unhelpful lip-loosening alcohol, and one no-good, sorry excuse of a preacher you sometimes think of as a friend.

Pairing: outlaw!lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), trigun!au, action!au, apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic!au, space western!au, slight enemies to comrades to ??? !au, angst, fluff, they're dumbasses your honor 🙏 Warnings: swearing, blood, guns, injuries, medical tingz, destruction, mentions of knives, violence, unsettling space western things, slight body horror and hints at altered dna, weird religious cults, mentions of eating/food, alcohol, threats, bets among friends, tame-ish alien/monster/plant sex (????? listen it'll make sense - think of him like howl's bird form on steroids idk), mating, possessiveness!, marking, bruising, jealousy, smelling/scent kink???, wet messy sex uwu, wing kink (??? listen i was gonna explore it more but decided not to ok??), BITING (bc it's me), mechanical/robotic fingering???, gagging, bulge kink, oral sex (explicit male receiving and brief fem. receiving), seokmin's dick is like SLOPPY TOPPY LORGE w/ a mind of it's own, lowkey forgot how to write smut sorry </3 WC: 13.2k of 32.7k | Part 1 | Read on AO3 A/N: this is for the Now that's 90's - A Seventeen collab and loosely based off/inspired by the Trigun anime/manga! You do not need to know it as I manipulated a whole lot of elements for my own narrative but beware of various spoilers if you do go ahead and check out the series after reading!! I hope everyone enjoys the conclusion and please check out the other writers in this amazing collab ❤️PS, I know nothing abt chess lmaooooo but let me know your thoughts and feel free to ask any questions regarding this au's intricacies!! This part might get a little confusing because of a flashback!! (starts right after the italicized paragraph and ends with "...in this moment...")

The silence is palpable.

"Does it hurt more to get stabbed in the back or shot?"

Only the continual rustling sound answers your philosophical question. Not that you actually care because you weren't really expecting a reply.

So, you keep talking.

"I think it would be more painful to get stabbed… but it would take longer to heal from a gunshot wound."

There's a brief pause in the motions behind you. But the quiet resumes, though the practiced skill of a needle threading through your skin quickens. While the local anesthetics Tonim's doctor supplied is doing its job for the most part, you swear you can still feel the tug of flesh being sewn together.

Or maybe you're just thinking too hard.

"Look. I'm… I'm sorry."

If tension could personify itself right at this moment, it would do so with ease, given how heavy its presence currently sits in the room. A low voice finally speaks up, gravely and roughened after such a long period of silence and the hairs on your neck rise.

"Are you really?"

"… Yes."

A heavy sigh — one burdened with all the worries of the world — follows. You wince and then tremble, wishing you could turn around. It's easy to guess what he's thinking but god, do you wish you could see his face to confirm. The fear of the unknown paralyzes you.

"I seriously am."

"Doubtful. I know you only asked me that question to subtly say you'll be okay and heal just fine but it's not that simple."

The callousness in his tone and the sharp way he says your first name makes you want to shrink down, shrivel up, and quite frankly die on the spot. Gritting your teeth, you succumb to the apparent silent treatment until the snip of scissors signifies your surgeon has finished treating you.

You think twice about your options upon hearing the click-clack of medical supplies being put back into the first aid kit. Then you think, "fuck it!", and use your good arm to keep the fabric of a spare t-shirt pressed against your chest and shift so you can face the man who just rather aggressively threw a handful of unused alcohol prep pads back into their designated slot.

"I'm super duper, utterly, and truly apologetic, Seok."

The gunslinger heaves another grand exhale of irritation. He doesn't even so much as glance at you, frowning sourly down at the roll of gauze in his hands instead. The temptation to reach out and touch him — soothe him — is strong but you decide against that (for various reasons) and resort to huffily pouting instead. Amazingly it seems to work, because he notices right away and folds way too easily without much of your sway, finally facing you with a reluctant but serious expression.

"Then what did you learn?"

Your gaze lowers, eyelashes fluttering while you drown in your feelings of shame and wrack your brain. The urge to toy with the silver chain around your neck is strong though you resist the tick and hesitantly answer instead.

"Um, that I need to fortify my mental block better?"

"Try again."

"Uh…"

"How about the way you're not supposed to play the hero?"

The tin of the trauma kit rattles as Seokmin slams his left hand down on the bed, leaning menacingly toward you. Though narrowed, his eyes seem to glow. You can't help but whimper at the intense ire dancing in those irises paired with his sharp tone. Like the desert's suns, it simmers and radiates off of him with rays of heat that you can easily feel given how close he is.

"I'm, I'm sorry!"

"No, you're not," he states sharply though the rigidness in his body relaxes after your squeak of another apology. "You almost died!"

You'd defiantly cross your arms if you could. "Between the two of us, you were most at risk of dying."

"Was not! And we both know my chances of injury are much, much lower than yours."

"You can't lecture me and flex your stupid powers this time! It's different 'cause Jihooon was fuckin' with my mind."

The harsh bitterness is more so directed at yourself and the damned Crimsonnail than Seokmin. But as usual, you vent all your frustrated emotions out on him, especially whenever he brings up the fragility of your mortality. You both stare stubbornly into each other's eyes, thinking back to what happened and what could've happened.

Lina's protected. The Tonim residents were all immobilized. Seungcheol, Seungkwan, and Mingyu are in good spirits. You are safe.

A burst of air rushes into Seokmin's lungs, relief filling him as he idly scans your figure for injuries. Casually reloading his revolver just in case, he beams as you approach. The mirrored expression of victory on your face accompanied by a hand reaching out causes his whole body to shudder in pleasure. There's nothing he'd like more than to intertwine his fingers with yours.

Instead, he settles for returning your enthusiastic fist bump. Nudging his shoulder against yours, Seokmin chirps out, "Good job, partner!"

"Partner?"

"Yeah, partners."

You shake your head like you can't believe him, amusement tilting up the corners of your lips. He wants to tell you everything, all of it. But his ears catch the faint click of a contraption behind him and he looks over his shoulder just in time to see Jihoon's crossbow assemble.

Joshua looks mightily displeased but makes no effort to put a stop to the Crimsonnail's actions. Seokmin can only thank his lucky stars that Soonyoung remains in a catatonic state. Dealing with a ginormous worm so soon after being in its stomach a couple days ago was not appealing in the slightest.

The fingers of his prosthesis splay out, cybernetic arm lowered and extended outwards in front of you as you turn around as well. He knows you hate unwarranted protection but you'll have to forgive his instincts this time. Nevertheless, he trusts you. And as Jihoon opens fire, Seokmin leaps into action, expecting you to do the same — only to do a double-take when you don't move despite a flurry of nails breaching the air.

Your eyes remain unfocused. Glazed over and cloudy, posture tense but still. He sneaks observatory looks your way from afar while firing Geranium. Round after round, breaking nail after nail to prevent any harm befalling you. A maniacal laughter rings out and Seokmin freezes, putting two and two together.

Then he snarls.

Jihoon must've sicced his killing intent — a nasty ability to project and create illusions of destruction in someone and break their will — on you. Cursing, he starts making his way closer to you, inwardly reaching out to you and begging that you'll break free of the blonde-haired man's clutch on your psyche.

You're obviously more than capable. He knows this. But your movements are sluggish, slowly releasing Sirocco from your grasp. The empty pistol lands on the sand with a muffled thud and Seokmin's pretty sure his heart mimics it. A look of terror and horror spreads across your facial features, surely subject to something awful within the confines of your own mind.

And while you're experiencing visions of things you fear coming true, he's stuck in the vivid reality where they do.

You spin around with a wild look in your eyes — full of rage and anguish. He stumbles back as you teeter one foot at a time toward him and in the distraction, a nail pierces right below your shoulder blade.

Someone wails behind him.

You scream.

Seokmin rushes forward. But he's tackled suddenly to the ground and ends up flat on his back. Completely winded and left with his vision smarting, blinking in confusion at the blurry double halos that definitely shouldn't be around the duo of suns in the sky.

Then your face comes into focus. And god, forget the suns — in all your glory and in all your fierceness, you shine brighter than them all combined — hallucinations be damned.

It takes a bit of wrangling around, given how you try to wrestle and pin the man down. The clunky gun you're waving around goes off several times, harmlessly lodging bullet holes into the sand cushioning around Seokmin's head.

"Stop it, you're gonna hurt yourself!"

Moving and lashing out like a wild animal before it's fully sedated, his words don't come through the hellish haze Jihoon's trapped you in. You pull the trigger with no regard for the injury to your shooting arm.

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

He dutifully counts each round fired, multitasking between that and the effort it takes to contain your struggling movements. Once again, thanks to the overpowered strength of his prosthetic, the man's finally able to sit up with you secured in his arms to cease any further movement.

"Lovely, lovely mayfly," he murmurs. The stable cybernetic hand gently feels around the impaled shoulder while a trembling thumb rubs your abnormally chilled cheek. "C'mon and snap out of it, pretty."

Not a spot of recognition in your blank glare. His eyebrows furrow as cold metal presses in between them. Seungcheol is cursing, Mingyu and Seungkwan are shouting loudly. Jihoon gloats.

But none of that matters. Seokmin drowns all of it out by diving in the pooling depths of your empty irises. Searching, calling, begging. Biting his lip, he delivers a quick slap and pleads, "Come back to me, love."

And like a mist that rises after dawn, you return to him. Your stunned grip on the gun falters, the final bullet rattling in its chambers. The pained expression on your face slices open his own heart but its shredded form takes flight in utter relief.

You're back. You're going to be okay — he'll make sure of it. And even if you don't know it, you're his and he's yours.

"Y-you're dead," you choke out and all he can do is smile despite feeling like he's on the verge of crying. Elation, anger, guilt, hope, longing, worry, joy — all of it turns and tosses within him like a rustling flurry of winged creatures struggling to break free.

So, he smiles at you and grasps the barrel of the old pistol aimed at his forehead. "I know, mayfly."

Jihoon howls in fury. Joshua finally steps forward, striking a military pose with his hands behind his back. Composed as ever, his voice remains its deceptively sweet self compared to the harsh jerking movements he's subjected upon the gray-eyed man via telepathy.

"You've crossed the line, lost number thirteen."

"Don't call me that!"

It's no surprise that the pecking order in Dokyeom's henchmen sowed seeds of dissent. Though Joshua was simply a right-hand man, he remained the only unnumbered member, proving the lack of disposability DK saw in him versus the others.

"Know your place."

"Which has always been at the top! But because of you — !"

" — The top of those already at the bottom, perhaps. Respect your superiors and your orders, Crimsonnail. You were not to lay a hand upon Master Dokyeom's brother. Ever."

"I didn't!"

"Or a member of his little group." His indifferent gaze swept over Seokmin protectively cradling your body. "This voids our involvement and nullifies any further implementations of the game."

Joshua would thank his lucky stars that the humanoid typhoon is letting them leave scotch-free if he was a decent man. Unfortunately, he's not — already considering what punishment to enact upon Jihoon per his master's orders. The Crimsonnail feels a shiver down his spine, further enhanced by Joshua's frosty, disdainful look of disapproval as he telepathically drags Jihoon to the car.

Still, it's a good thing Seokmin's a pacifist by nature, that he's more preoccupied by your well being than anything else. Your brow begins to bead with sweat, the pain of your wound finally sinking in past the adrenaline rush wearing off. Black circles dance in your blurring vision, the gun falling from your grasp as you droop forward and rely on the unerring sureness of his support and the safety within in it.

Seokmin knows he needs to get you medical help right away, and it's the only thing he can focus on. There's no time for exchanging a blow with a blow nor the faintest idea of revenge.

Not yet. Not now. Maybe never if it means putting you in harm's way.

Was he really going to give up following the bloody trail to hold his brother accountable for the unspeakable crimes he's committed? Throw away the blank ticket Rem spoke about? All for one person?

The questions all swirl around in his head like a nebulous mass. And like a newborn star — one that's been long in the making — the answer is crystal clear and shining bright as you sit in front of him now looking devastatingly beautiful to him despite all that's happened. Most importantly, you're safe.

But all he can say in this moment aloud is, "I'm sorry."

For a multitude of reasons. So many of them. You seem to spot something in his eyes, frowning ever so slightly.

"You don't have to apologize for anything. I'm fine."

"I almost lost you."

"But you didn't."

"…I know. And I'm so fuckin' glad."

Seokmin runs his fingers in a distressed manner through dusty, matted strands of reddish-brown strands. Immediately drawing attention to the dirt, grime, and dried blood coating and dulling the cybernetic's buzzing glow.

"That's gonna be a pain in the ass to clean."

He appreciates the subject change, shooting you a lopsided grin. "Yeah, tell me 'bout it."

"Let me help."

You get up before he can protest. A tactical way to coerce him into worrying about helping you rather than arguing. The coy part of yourself is applauding the method, especially when the calloused flesh of his palm splays against the bare skin of your lower back in the name of support as you both walk to the bathroom.

That same part whispers naughty temptations to drop the t-shirt covering your chest, press up against him, and see his reaction. But your reasonable, reserved side is too held up on various other matters to give in.

Sadly, you find out you can't offer as much assistance as you would've liked. But Seokmin seems heartened by just seeing you up and about and close to him. Plus, you make use of your idleness while he washes in the sink by reaching for the few stocked amenities you can reach with your good shoulder above it when he asks for them. And you receive a heartfelt smile in return.

"I probably should've just showered."

You shrug. "You still could."

"Nah, it's fine, I can do it later. What about you, though? You're going to need help with those stitches."

"What a roundabout way to say you want to bathe together, Seok. You could've just asked."

Maybe you expected him to splutter nervously or protest fiercely at the tease. You certainly don't expect him to just shake his head — silver earring flashing in the vanity's dull lighting — and chuckle.

"I'm being serious, goof. Besides, it's not the first time I've seen you in the tub."

"What?" you squawk and his grin doesn't falter. In fact, it turns into a smirk.

"I'll go get Sherry. Lina's gonna want to see you too, she wouldn't stop crying about her pretty savior getting hurt."

You frown. Was he still going to dodge The Talk™? And did he think you were really just going to him out of your clutches that quickly?

"We still need to chat. You promised."

His eyes flash. "… And you don't like promises."

Yes, that was exactly why. He knew your history. Still, you refused to back down.

"No, I don't. But I like you… and, and most of all, I trust you. I just want the truth, Seok. Even if you think it'll hurt me, at least be honest. Trust me back. I promise it'll make it less painful if you tell me why you thought I wasn't serious. So, please…"

Don't let me down.

It's unspoken, but he can clearly hear it in your tone. A battle-worn sigh escapes so you try to lead him and finish with a question where he can give a more straightforward answer.

"… How long have you known? About the bet, I mean."

Despite wavering between semi-alertness and bordering the edge of losing consciousness, you're aware of Sheryl's presence as she bustles around with Seungkwan and Mingyu to clear out an empty room above the saloon temporarily used for patients. Seungcheol waits outside the door with you two, a cigarette loosely dangling from his lips.

When Sheryl leaves, she sneaks a peek at the way your face buries into Seokmin's neck, how the man carefully assesses the rest of your body for injuries. His touch is gentle, the cybernetic arm coated in blood as it holds the nail in you steady. He'd been adamant about being the one — the best one — to treat you. Smiling, she hands Seungcheol a couple of double dollars and the pastor raises an inquiring eyebrow.

"For that little game of yours," the woman whispers knowingly and gestures to the two who just exited the room and Seokmin hurriedly heads inside. "They told me all about it."

You lift your head to glare at Seungcheol and then your other comrades as you pass, wondering if this was some sick form of revenge for pulling one on him and if Sheryl was so keen to set you up with someone in the same way pompously done for her. But your shoulder feels like it's on fire so rather than reprimand your stupid, back-stabbing friends and slump back wearily against Seokmin.

He's a simple man who certainly can't hide a silly smile at the unconventional snuggling. Lifting his chin, he then tilts his head questioningly to the money in Seungcheol's hands. "You're still doing that bet?"

"Haf'ta win the lasses 'n hopeless romantics over 'n have 'em rootin' fer ya."

"Y-you know about the bet?"

Seokmin hushes you with a low murmur, words muffled by the press of his lips to the crown of your head. You can't make out what he says, but the timbre is soothing enough that your eyes close.

"Gotta make that sixty billion somehow if we're not turnin' ya ass in."

"Fair enough!" The wanted man laughs and closes the door with his foot.

His cheerful demeanor then dropped to focus on the proper procedures to treat your wound and that's when the silence settles in, soon followed by the weighing air of unresolved tension between you. And now, you're continuing the determined path to fully speed-run ahead and break it, though he shrugs nonchalantly at the question.

"Known for a while, to be honest."

"Seriously? I thought it was a secret!"

"C'mon, you know how bad Cheol is at keeping them."

"Yeah, right," you roll your eyes. "That man takes things to the grave — literally!"

"You're too hard on him." Seokmin leans toward you, bracing himself with an arm supported by the sink and brown eyes sparkling with humor. "Think about how much you've learned about him."

"Against my will, too much…"

"Which means I'm right."

"… I guess you do make a fair point."

"Of course. He's a completely open book once you peel back that damn protective hardcover of his."

Still, you sniff disdainfully and frown. "I swear, you're the only one who sees him like that."

"Like what?"

"Like…. unafraid, unconcerned, unbothered by all that he is, all that he's done, et cetera."

"Why not? He's done the same for me. Besides, I've said it before but he has those eyes, you know. Kind."

Ah, and that's what gets you to resign with a small grin. It's just like Seokmin to see only the good in people.

"And you're not all that different," he continues with a broad, knowing smile. Immediately you bristle and he clarifies, "from me." Some part of you momentarily wonders if you spoke your thoughts aloud or if he just simply knows them that well. "As loath as you are to admit it, you care for him. Most importantly, you trust him."

Though your face sours at the thought, you don't retort right away. Sure, Seungcheol is a trusted ally. And maybe the motivation to free Jeonghan from the control of the Eye of Joshua wasn't solely because it was simply the right thing to do. But also because it might brighten the dull spark and leave one less bloodstain on the hand of a man who bore the burdensome weight of all sins like a cross on his shoulders.

Then you wave away those thoughts for now. "So, is that why you thought I wasn't serious on how I feel about you. 'Cause of the bet?"

"No, because I never knew the full extent of it. But… if you're saying it had to do with your feelings, then I would have to say yes — though I find it hard to believe any bet's worth my bounty."

"Oh." Your cheeks heat at unwittingly giving it away.

Seokmin smirks when you avoid his gaze, and he moves in even closer. "No one has sixty billion double dollars just lying around, mayfly."

"You're just saying that so no one turns you over to July."

"Well, you won't do it, will you?"

"You don't know that," you fire back, intending to heighten your defenses that only weakly falter because you're still not looking at him.

"But I do."

"Yeah? Prove it!"

Ooh, a challenge.

And one more step closer.

"Because you care too much about the man you like to put him behind bars."

Your eyes dart back to meet his, ready to squint reproachfully only to widen at how the gunslinger's face is only a breadth away from yours. Breath hitching, you desperately want to whine out in irritation but it comes out in a low whimper. Seokmin's canines flash in the bathroom's dim lighting.

"That's not, that's not fair." The wall pressing into your bare back keeps you from retreating and the hand keeping the t-shirt covering your chest feels how your heartbeat speeds up. Your skin is on fire, only the cool temperature of your locket and its chain preventing you from utterly exploding after the plaintive admission of, "You already know everything. But…"

"But…?"

The unconscious action of biting into your lower lip only gets realized by the way it keenly draws Seokmin's eyes. Electric blue flashes against brown irises yet they darken to almost black with the sudden thrill of desire that rises to the surface. He's so close, you can feel his breath caress your face, and you swear you hear it deepen into a low grunt before he raises a brow for you to continue.

"But… b-but I don't know…a single… thing."

Seokmin has forever believed Rem's take regarding the ticket to the future always being blank. For him, it's always been an unknown path forward that he's let lead him wherever and to whatever destination.

He holds himself back, just enough to utter the (practically what should be unneeded) words of reassurance, "It could only ever be you — and it's always been only you — that I could be in love with so much, mayfly," and then he's eliminating the meager distance between the two of you. For the first time, he stamps that blank ticket with an assuredness of the future and outcome he's never had before — with a kiss.

Cradling the back of your head with his cybernetic prosthesis, the other cups your cheek and then trails down to your collarbones — but no further than appropriate. His mouth, though, disregards the very notion. A teasing tongue repeatedly runs across your bottom lip to smooth out the indents caused earlier by your teeth then naughtily pokes and prods its way between, eliciting a sweet gasp from you he absolutely devours.

Your whole body shudders with happiness, eagerly surrendering to the man's wild, possessive fervor as he passionately steals the breath out of your lungs and stakes his claim on you by leaving behind shiny kiss-bitten lips. Seokmin only draws away, panting, to admire his handiwork, light-headed and dizzy with delight.

"I love you," he reconfirms with his forehead resting against yours and nose tickling your own, "… partner."

Breathlessly, you joke back after placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. "Love you too, partner."

And that was that.

With your shoulder injury on the mend and the other members of your little ragtag group nursing their own bumps and bruises, you all decided to spend one more night in Tonim — much to Lina's delight. While she merrily bounced from one 'hero' to the next, you playfully reminded Wonwoo that he still owed you some free drinks. You were eager to take advantage of the fact and he was more than willing to accommodate.

The tavern that originally held a subdued, slightly hostile air to it when you first arrived was now filled with an unfettered joyous harmony. You're so easily swept up in the ambiance of such high spirits and jubilant townsfolk as mug ales filled to the brim get passed around and clinked together, you fail to notice Seokmin's sudden withdrawn nature.

Not until the next morning do you first realize something's off.

"You're sure about this?"

"Oh, no. Not you too, Seok."

You'd already flipped off and shoved away a complaining, terribly hungover Seungcheol and finally got rid of the watchful, fretting gazes of Seungkwan and Mingyu. The duo had been hovering around you with concern ever since you downed a full glass of alcohol last night. While you generally just let them be and were quite thankful not to wake up with a pounding headache, you certainly weren't above crushing all of Mingyu's pudding cups if he meekly asked one more time if you were okay or needed help.

Seokmin leans against the open door frame as you pack. The pulsating glow of lost technology flickers in your peripheral and keeps you aware of his quiet presence. Part of you had always wondered if the ever-running currents of lighting synced with the flow of blood through the rest of his body.

The gunslinger doesn't speak, and you wonder why. And though you'd like to flatter yourself and entertain the notion that he's watching you — while other times that may be true — you don't feel the weight of his eyes trained on your motions. It wasn't like there was much to stuff in your bag, the satchel's leather cracked, faded, and well-worn after all these years of use through the desert and everything you truly value remains strapped some way to your body. So once you're finished, you inquisitively peek over in his direction.

Brown eyes are trained on the clunky gun on the mattress — the same one you'd pressed against his head. It's also the exact same pistol Chan had spent his adolescence restoring and repairing. Left unnamed unlike the honorary grave Seokmin had helped you prep before leaving the ruins of Ivywood behind. Meanwhile, his gaze darts to linger in contemplation on the chain around your neck before his eyebrows furrow, emphasizing the drawn out features and dark circles beneath his eyes.

"You look tired, you doing okay?"

"Yeah, just haven't been… sleeping well."

Frowning, you step toward him. Although he doesn't back away, his entire posture stiffens. "Will you be able to make the journey?"

He snorts, gesturing to your shoulder you're trying not to move too much. "Isn't that what I'm supposed to be asking you?"

"I'll feel better at the border."

Seokmin nods understandingly. "The weather will align well."

Within the sandstorms that relentlessly swirl near the Melca Border Sea of Sand, hides the only SEEDS floating ship that survived the Great Fall and you have to get the timing just right to reach it. It's home to a large community of humans, and most importantly, it's what you would consider a true home to you and Seokmin. Already, your energy restores — excited at the prospect of getting to relax in a place you trust and people you truly enjoy being around.

"Jun can take a look at my shoulder."

"That's true, it would be good for him to do."

"And I'm sure Hao's going to want to check your arm, maybe fashion some fabric that's not only bulletproof but also nail-proof."

"He's gonna give us both a scolding."

"Wouldn't be the first time."

You share a look of fond chagrin. Even though Seokmin's well over a century older than Juhui and Minghao, they were direct Earth descendants aboard a ship full of lost technology and geniuses in their own right. Those facts alone gave them all the confidence and utter audacity to more often than not, act like fretting toma mothers over the two of you.

Nonetheless, you appreciated them with all that's remaining of your heart.

The trip to the Melca Border wasn't a straight shot from Tonim but it wasn't as far as you thought. A bittersweet farewell to Wonwoo, Lina, Sherry, and the rest of the townsfolk was to be expected. Though their sorrow weighed you down, the knowledge that you were parting from them with good memories and the expectations to visit again kept your steps light-footed.

Seokmin remains zoned out the entire time. You bulk it up to his normal reaction whenever something emotional was on the horizon. Returning to Melca held a grand spread of wonderful, warm memories with a scattering of dreadfully sad ones too. Though the floating ship's defenses have been bolstered to the max over the years, the terrible events weren't easy to forget.

But they were incidents in the past and it's thanks to the intellect of the two who greet you at the entrance of the ship that their defenses continue to improve. Luida proudly stands behind them, accompanied by Brad and his wife.

"Greetings, weary travelers."

"We're no strangers, Luida," Seokmin protests against her formality.

The elderly leader's playful grin smooths out the wrinkles lining her wise face. "Welcome home, children."

It's a simple phrase but one that fills you with inexplicable warmth. Hansol might be the son born of her own body, but no one is immune from her maternal instinct. She beckons for everyone to come inside where the main quarters lie and the growing crew population will certainly be enthusiastic upon hearing about your return.

Seungcheol, Mingyu, and Seungkwan trail after without fuss, also elated to be aboard the familiar floating ship. You smile with genuine delight and step forward to follow while Minghao takes one look over his wire-rimmed glasses to survey Seokmin's dusty figure and elegantly tilts his head knowingly in the hallway leading to the technology laboratory. Glittery, colorful beads woven through the long strands of his two-toned hair clink in time with the movement.

It's hard to hide the snicker that escapes as you watch Seokmin trudge after Minghao like a scolded puppy. Your glee at someone else's suffering doesn't last long when a gentle hand clasps your shoulder. Wincing at the pain, you meet Junhui's puzzled look before his eyes narrow.

"You're hurt," he says, disappointed but not surprised, and leads you away to the med bay. It's exactly what you expected, in fact, the main reason behind why you're here — and yet, you sulk and whine petulantly just because you can.

"Not my fault that the only way to get here is by timing everything right to jump into a sandstorm and then onto a flying platform."

After instructing you to lie down on the medical bed and cutting the fabric of your shirt without fanfare, Junhui clicks his tongue. "You only come to visit when you're hurt."

"Not true!"

He concentrates on disinfecting and resewing the torn stitches in the tender flesh around the parts of your wound that are still healing. His tone borders on slight resentment but the concern weighing in it smoothes it all over.

"And yet most of our time spent together is only when you visit so I can patch you up."

"It's not like that."

"I know… but I would've met you elsewhere."

"Boring."

"Can't you courteously pretend to care about yourself out of consideration for those who worry?"

"You'll go gray at such a very young age if you stress all the time, Jun."

He shakes away silver bangs that threaten to impede his vision, unamused. "And you'll end up buried under the sand next time."

"Sounds cozy."

"I swear —"

You wave his growing ire away. "Seok takes care of me just fine."

"Yes," Junhui's cat-like smile causes your metaphorical hackles to raise. "He does care deeply about you."

"I'll punt you into the fifth moon and give it a second crater with your body."

"Now, now… violence is never the answer."

"Violence is the only reason you have a job!"

If you weren't as close as you were, perhaps he'd be offended by your claim. Instead, he kicks you out (after ensuring you're indeed in relatively good health), leaving you to laugh victoriously. Then, you set off to the technology lab in good spirits, hoping to catch Seokmin and commiserate with him.

Instead, you find a lone Minghao sitting refinedly amongst all the tech with grace and poise. He was in his element. Fiddling with and poking at a well-worn, familiar cybernetic tech with a thin silver instrument, he simply raises an eyebrow to acknowledge your presence.

"Did you fit Seok with a new arm?"

"But of course," the man sighs wearily, "despite my best efforts, my darlings always return home to their father with quite a beating."

"… Then you'll hate what I'm about to tell you."

"No, I cannot fashion you a pierce-proof trench coat. However, I will acquire some stronger material… but there better not be a next time."

You purse your lips and pout. It often seemed like Minghao worried more about his inventions than the people using them, though you knew that to ultimately not be true.

"So, he already told you what happened."

"Oh, yes… he told me everything." Heterochromatic eyes suddenly meet yours, sharp with a spark of amusement. "See, I almost didn't want to give him the latest modification but…"

"But…" You repeat warily.

Junhui was always mischievous, though most of it only ended with harmless pranks. On the other hand, Minghao's sarcasm-filled humor rarely made an appearance, and when it did, it usually delighted in the sickest of satisfactions.

Yet, he simply shrugs, evasive as always. "I think you'll like its improvements."

There's something foreboding about that statement, but he ushers you away under the pretense that he needs to concentrate. And shortly, you find yourself stopped by curious passersby or familiar faces in the hallways to the main quarters. Since your last visit, a multitude of passengers have a lot to share and update you on. By the time you reach your own pod, you're socially exhausted.

Sleep came easy but finding Seokmin did not. The SEEDS ship was already big in the first place and additional construction enlarged it further. An itchy, achy feeling pooled inside your gut on the second evening you'd been unable to catch sight of him. Finally, you acknowledged the bitter truth — he was avoiding you.

You had to come to terms with how delusional it was to think that once everything was out in the open, the scattered puzzle pieces would magically fall together in their rightful places. It should be easy, right? It's what happened in those cheap novels Junhui dug out of an abandoned pod in Melca back in the day. He'd given them to you as a birthday joke — Minghao sighing and handing over your real present (the first bullet-proof trench coat) — but you'd actually read through all the cheesy, steamy piles of romantic drivel.

Seungkwan, ever the cynic, and Seungcheol — who's naturally a heathen — quickly destroyed the slim spark of hope of ever hoping to feel those flutters in your gut. Meanwhile, Mingyu was someone precious and wholesome with a romantic outlook on life underneath the great muscular physique he'd gained from carrying that heavy concussion gun around.

You often wondered why they never tormented him like they did to you. But despite his indomitable stature, the emotionally soft man's tears were the most powerful weapon in his arsenal. Even if he didn't quite realize it, his comrades certainly were aware.

And Seokmin… well, if you knew how Seokmin felt about romance, you wouldn't be stuck in the position of wondering why the fuck he was avoiding you.

Again.

"Where is he?"

"Good morning," Mingyu greets the following morning, cheerful as ever. "If you're still hunting Seokmin for sport, he said he's feelin' a little sick!"

"Sure."

"No, he really is." Seungkwan refutes your aggressive eye roll with a gentle shake of his head. "Loverboy hasn't come out of his room for days and when I almost knocked the door in earlier, he finally responded only to sound like a dying toma."

Your face contorts into a morbid combination of concern and irritation, shifting between the two expressions. "Probably 'cause he stayed out all last night!"

And with a dramatic huff, you glower at the pastor seated in the cramped corner of the floating ship's kitchen area. Seungcheol deemed it was cooler, darker, and the farthest spot in the enclosed space from any of your misplaced wrath. He smiles, the white stick between whiter teeth jollily flicking up and down at you, taunting.

He reveled in the knowledge of being safe since he'd been the only one able to provide any information on the humanoid typhoon's whereabouts. The pastor — who still enjoyed a late-night smoke to cure some of his insomnia — considered it his saving grace to catch sight of the fellow gunslinger slinking through the shadows in the halls. Apparently, Seokmin had been sneaking outside the past few nights and remained resolutely ever-elusive during the day.

"Should go see 'im. Yer all antsy and 'm bettin' he's missin' his… mayfly."

"Oh, go fuck yourself," you snarl and storm out, missing the man's bark of laughter before he continues contemplating the best way to siphon money during a confessional.

The unfaltering stomp of your combat boots is the background beat on your walk to Seokmin's pod. His halls aren't far from the kitchen area and yet each footfall feels like a step into the unknown, the lights above seeming to grow dimmer the closer you get.

Why was he acting like this?

Did he regret everything that happened between you?

Was something wrong?

Would he shut himself away from you?

Worry and anger swirl together, mirroring the vortex of sand you had to pass through to get here. Seokmin's never shut you completely out before but you're familiar with his reclusive acts when things get too much. Too close. Too emotional. And you're afraid to be the catalyst to another spiral.

So, you knock. Harsh, loud, and ultimately unforgiving if ignored.

"Seokmin, open up! I know you're alive!"

A mutter of "Barely," carries through the door before he clearly answers with a curt, "I'm not feeling well but I'll be fine."

"Open the door."

Silence.

"Please."

The silence continues — and your temper flares. "Don't make me go get my bag and grab my lock-picking set!"

You can hear sounds of cursing and some rustling around before the door slowly and reluctantly opens, Seokmin hiding in the shadow it casts.

"As you can see, I'm quite fi —"

Both a coughing jag and the firm push of your shoe interrupts his confident statement. "Sure hope you weren't about to say you're fine!"

A faint smoky scent permeates the pod. You cough and pause to let your vision adjust to the darkness. The first hint toward Seokmin's unusual behavior because he thrived in the sunlight, no matter how weak the sunrays that reached the floating ship were. Then second, you blink in wonderment at the black heaps littering the bed and floor.

Feathers. Everywhere.

Reminiscent of the time you'd broken Seungcheol's ridiculously expensive pillow against Mingyu's bulky bicep during a good-natured fight with Seungkwan's assistance. But instead of an explosion of brown and aqua toma plumage causing you all to sneeze, these were inky dark like the night sky and resembled piles of soot against the pod's stark white backdrop.

You whirl around to find Seokmin retreating to the corner of the room, hands slamming on top of the dresser for support. His back is to you with two thin wings jutting out from it. Feathers rustle as he pants, shoulders coinciding up and down with the motion of the wings.

"Seok, how did… how did this happen?"

It's not fear that causes your voice to tremble but worry. The appearance of his natural Plant form is no longer shocking. In fact, the more you see it, the more you find it eerily beautiful. Probably similar to those who believe them to be messengers of a higher power. But he's only ever transformed in dire situations — either due to stress or the rare exhaustion of his superhuman abilities against stronger foes.

He doesn't reply so you take a cautious step forward. An animalistic growl erupts from his throat, followed by a pained groan. You gasp as he shakes, protrusions rupturing from the lower parts of his shoulder blades. Two more wings burst out and unfurl below the trembling ones already quivering on his back.

So that's how they hide and reappear.

"Is it 'cause you're sick? Choi said you've been staying out all night. You could've caught a cold or something's in the air. Never know what's floating around here." You babble as you frantically search for signs in the mirror above the dresser for any hints to what's caused this.

Seokmin's bent over and you note what should be brunette roots of hair are now pitch-black too. Closer and closer you creep until you can make out each bead of perspiration trickling down his neck and how they coat every bare part of his body in a sheen of sweat.

Then his head snaps up. An eye — unshielded by the black fringe of his red-brown tipped bangs — narrows to glare into your widened ones. A tempest of electric blue rages within it. Like the hottest type of fire, it burns more than you could ever expect in a vortex of one prominent emotion.

Desire.

An involuntary shudder overtakes your whole body, and you unconsciously bite your lip. Seokmin slumps back down, granting respite from that ardent azure glow.

"Sick," he snarls and laughs, strained. "Sick in the head, that's for sure."

"How… how can I help? What can I do for you?"

"Get out."

"Seok —"

"I'm serious, mayfly. For your own good. Leave."

"My own good?"

"I'll, hah, I'll explain… explain it later."

Your arms cross. "Oh, really? Or will you avoid me again? Like you have been for the past several days?"

"I haven't —"

"Don't you dare feign indifference! I'm not stupid — we talk about our feelings and then you retreat. Just be honest with me… please."

You promised.

He sucks in a very deep inhale through clenched teeth, seeming to regret it instantly because his grip on the edge of the dresser is hard enough to crack the strong material. Glowering at your reflection again — not daring to acknowledge your very real and extremely close presence in the room — Seokmin bares his sharpened and widened incisors in a snarl.

"We will talk, mayfly, please believe me. Now's… hah… just not great timing with… with what's happening."

Irritation easily gives way back to worry. "At least tell me what I can do for you. Should I get Jun?"

"He can't do anything. Gotta just… work it out of my system."

"Work what?" You frown, knowing how rare it is for the medical specialist to be stumped.

"It's not for certain…" Four different wings flutter in agitation at various speeds. "Not a lot's known about Plant physiology," his mouth turns downward, "even I don't have a thorough understanding."

"Is it a disease?"

"Wish it was that simple."

"You're talking in riddles and running verbal circles, Seok."

"… Dokyeom and I are independent Plants. Likely the only ones, well, you know — still functioning. Alive. When Rem found us, research was obviously done."

You know the story very well and nod. "And had been conducted before."

"'Course thanks to Rem, it wasn't as invasive but there were, hah, occasional talks. Theories. And then, of course, before us twins, there was…"

"… Tesla."

A Plant with a lifespan of only two-hundred and thirty days.

Seokmin swallows. "Tesla. Yes. I recall bits and pieces. Hypothesized with Luida and company… Outside of Dokyeom following the unethical methods humans sometimes conduct for experimentation," he snorts at the irony, "it's thought that Plants… can copulate… with a mate… of their, hah, choosing."

"Really?" Your eyebrows raise, intrigued. "That's a brilliant discovery!" Then they furrow. "Wait, are you saying that this," you wave your hand to gesture at his current form, "is because… you're, er, ready to… mate?"

He holds his head. "… Yes."

"Oh, okay. So, you need like… relief? A mate? Should I…?"

Your questions hang uncertainly in the air, unfinished because you're really not sure what you're supposed to even offer. A sarcastic smirk graces Seokmin's lips, condescending in the sort of way that's aimed more at himself.

"What kind of man do you think I am, mayfly?"

"A very, uh, Planty one for sure."

"Better than leafy, I suppose."

"Though you are quite… feathery."

Finally, he turns toward you, a wry and defeated smile on his weary face. His wings stretch outward and curl back in, elegantly waving toward you as if drawn in your direction. You can't help but smile at the object hanging from a cord around his neck.

"You still keep that old thing around?"

He looks at the golden cartridge and chuckles. "It's special."

"Me holding a gun to your head was special?""Meeting you will always remain a treasured memory, no matter the manner of how it happened." Seokmin falls quiet, lost in thought before hesitantly asking, "Did I not mention Plants mate for life? Well, at the very least, I know I do."

"Oh." Your astonishment reveals itself in a breathless gasp. There's no escaping that all-consuming, fiery cerulean gaze. "So is this the first time you've been… ready to, uh, mate?"

"No, I'm used to the way these cycles come and go. But this for sure is the worst bout yet."

"… Why?"

You hold your breath. He takes a step forward. Then another.

He's so close, if you leaned the slightest bit forward you'd press up against each other. Somehow, with an overwhelming sense of shyness guessing the underlying thoughts and what his answer will be, your eyes roam his bare upper chest and torso.

If you could caress him you would. All the shiny black feathers adorning his wings and the occasional ones sprouting along his forearms pointing to his Plant abilities. Each scar along with every bit of metal or his body's naturally grown wood that replaces chunks of lost flesh. He's kept them as reminders of when he's failed humans, though you've seen them only as when they've failed him. He shivers, like he can feel it, as if he knows what you're thinking and you questioningly re-meet his burning stare as he shoots you a wane smile.

Sheepishly, he rubs where the cybernetic arm attaches to his shoulder. Many have turned away in disgust or mock pity at the disfigurements. Yet despite the true abomination he looks like right now, there's only ever been pure empathy and acceptance he doesn't deserve — all from you.

"Conscious consent and reciprocation."

Your lips turn upward, joy causing your soul to unwittingly sing. "Does that mean… I'm your mate?"

"No."

It's like Gunsmoke completely collapses, and you're left twirling without footing in space. Seokmin matches your fallen expression with one of his own.

"What? Wh-why?"

"Don't get me wrong, it's —"

"I swear if you say 'It's me, not you'…"

He rather adorably tilts his head. "How did you know?"

"It's a typical cliche," you roll your eyes, "just give it to me straight, Seokmin. Is it 'cause I'm human?"

"… It's not that simple, and this isn't something trivial. It's — hah — it's a huge commitment." The use of your given name indicates his seriousness. "A lifetime one. For me, it's only ever been you… and it will always be you for as long as I live, which could be your whole lifespan! And I don't, hah, I don't know — hell, it's taking everything I can not to tear a dead man apart, let alone what I'd do if you'd change your mind, want something — someone else."

"You're doing it again, projecting and underestimating my feelings for you."

"It could be the effect of my pheromones, mayfly. We don't know every —"

"That's right! We don't know! So we have to trust each other and see."

"It's —"

"Let's not subject ourselves to the hypothetical. And what do you mean by dead man?"

Seokmin's jaw tenses, fingernails digging into numb skin. His wings waver, like they're considering cocooning around him for protection. But their tips simply flutter as if soothed by an unseen force, preventing them from enclosing completely.

Teasingly, you lean toward him and squint. "What else aren't you telling me, Seok? You pick a side hustle up that involves the deceased like Choi?"

He snorts at the audacity and doesn't take the bait. Instead, unfamiliar but still achingly familiar irises dart to your neck, tracing the silver chain laying against your skin. A dull sort of sadness fizzles out those blue fires and you clasp the shape of the locket beneath your shirt in realization.

"He was a boy, Seok. A boy I grew up with for a short period, one that felt like a brother to me."

"… You said you loved him."

"When?"

"… To Cheol. After you first met him."

"That would've been so long ago? How do you even remember that?"

He sighs, heavily. "It's not easy to forget. Your voice was so warm, so gentle, so in love when you admitted it."

"Love can mean different things! And I assure you, my feelings for you differ greatly from how I felt about him. And… he's… he's long gone, Seok."

Guilt burns in his eyes. "I know. Which makes me all the worse."

"No, it doesn't." You shake your head, a resigned smile resting on your lips, and hold your arms out. "'Cause I understand and forgive you. And most importantly, I love you."

It's uncertain if those words break or restore him, but the hard rigidness in his body melts away, sagging in a semblance of relief. Then he rushes forward into your waiting embrace, wings helping to propel him forward until they wrap around and press you to him tight, tickling areas where his arms aren't squeezing around you.

"And I adore you, my lovely mayfly."

You groan. "When will you stop calling me that?"

"Never," he snickers and you feel the curve of his lips as he comfortably nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "For as long as you're mine."

"Yours?"

"Mine."

"Sucker."

A chaste kiss brushes the lower tip of your ear. So ticklish and unexpected, you pull back with a giggle and playfully swat his shoulder. And just as he's about to dive forward and prove your little comment correct in retaliation, you burst into full-on laughter that leaves Seokmin to settle his hands on your waist with confusion crinkling his brow.

"What?"

"So that's why you were always having a deathly staring match between my childhood memorabilia?"

"… Was not."

"You — the most sentimental loser ever — definitely were!"

He pouts momentarily, the cute jut out of his lower lip quickly transforming to a devious smirk. "You'd bet on it?"

"Totally." You place your arms around his neck, bringing your bodies closer again and matching the charge of electricity with a clever tilt of your lips. "I'd win, too."

"And what's on the table?"

"Sixty billion double dollars, of course."

"That so?"

"Mhm, and it seems like someone's bounty matches that worth."

Seokmin quirks a brow. "Seems like you want me on the table."

"Winner takes all?"

"Mayfly, I've always been yours."

"Sap," you laugh again.

A bright grin certainly declares your delight in victory, though your partner in crime uses the distraction as an advantage for his earlier loss and wastes no time. Diving in, a sharpened canine grazes your pulse point, automatically causing your head to tilt to offer easier access. Two left wings sweetly swoop down for support, feathered tips tenderly brushing your forehead.

The heat of his tongue placates the dragging scratch of his fangs. Though it sears you alive, heating your entire body from the tips of your toes, swirling in your core, and concentrating beneath Seokmin's lips on your skin.

When reaching that cold, familiar necklace you treasure so much and he can't help but loathe, it's seized between his teeth before he registers the action. Tugging it away from your neck like a dog, you wonder if he'll even shake it like one. His eyes follow the length of the chain, focusing on where the locket pops out above your chest.

You raise a questioning brow. "You gonna just play with my jewelry or take my clothes off?"

"Oh," Seokmin whispers, jaw dropping, and suddenly stands stiffly at attention.

You watch, entranced by the bob of his Adam's apple as he visibly gulps. Large, calloused hands — so practiced in undressing you for baths and patching up wounds — falter as they skim along your sides in a fleeting touch. Smiling encouragingly, you intertwine your fingers with those of his prosthetic while leading the other one beneath your shirt, the rough flesh of his palm blisteringly hot against your stomach.

"Is this okay? Can it help calm your Plant powers?"

"Yes… but that means… giving yourself to me… forever."

"Can't think of anything I'd enjoy more."

Confident, you trail kisses up his jaw to his cheek, stopping near his ear. Playfully tugging at the earring hoop as you pull away. Then you break away and bend over, shimmying off your shorts in one smooth motion. Stepping out of them, next goes your top. As each fabric hits the floor, Seokmin's eyes become more lidded, heavy with want. Smoldering. Desiring.

Four black wings fan out and stay as rigid as his stance. As if they're waiting with bated breath. And when you finally stand bare before him, he sheepishly drags his gaze to the floor with a flustered smile.

"I'm the one naked and you're embarrassed?" you tease and his posture relaxes.

"Because you're a vision to behold."

"Says the one who looks like an angel."

You back up until your knees hit the side of the bed. Like those morbid tales that depict curious listeners following a luring call to their demise, Seokmin's only a step behind you. He doesn't dare let his eyes stray further from your own, a goofy grin on his face.

"Consider this my fall from grace then, mayfly."

Gingerly, you sit on the edge of the mattress, waiting for his next move. He towers over you in this position. Formidable in appearance yet oh-so-gentle when picking up your left hand to kiss your knuckles and rub his thumb across its faded scar. Another smooch gets placed to your inner wrist and you hold your breath at the passion in those blazing cyan depths that refuse to look away. Then, a cautious touch to your shoulder urges you onto your back. Obediently, you lay down and a bunch of stray loose feathers fly up into the air upon impact.

"Beautiful," he murmurs.

The clothed knee resting between your legs helps his arm support the weight of his body hovering above you. A tentative hand slides down from your shoulder to your hip, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Caressing every scar, memorizing each color and swirl of ink decorating your skin, and erasing any insecurities or blemishes you see in yourself. Cold digits draw whimsical shapes and tickle your abdomen, stopping above your pelvic bone.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Seokmin rejoices in your consent by littering your collarbone with love bites. And his touches move lower, tender despite their mechanical nature. Warmth blossoms and flows under every surface of your skin Seokmin's traced, coiling and settling in a pulsating — almost painful — heat rupturing between your legs.

Only he can be the one to relieve this ache which he precisely aims to do. A simple, single brush across sensitive folds instantly has your breath hitching, shaking beneath him.

"Are you alright?"

"Mhm… yes."

He audibly gulps at your unexpected whimper of ecstasy, reluctantly tearing away from watching amorous bliss overtake your facial expression to the wet heat detected by his pointer finger's sensors. A feral growl rumbles in his chest at the debauched sight of desire beginning to dampen your thighs — the trace of what he's been smelling from you now overloading every single one of his senses as he coaxes more to flow from you. Seokmin's more than thankful for his enhanced vision and the glow of cybernetic technology baring your most intimate parts to him.

Guided by an instinctual impulse, he eases a finger inside. Your back automatically arches off the bed, eliciting a sweet gasp of delight. The cool touch of the digit seized tightly by the pulsating walls of your cunt slowly warms as it adjusts to the welcome intrusion. He soothingly brushes the knuckle of his middle finger across the soft outer flesh of your pussy to relax its grip. Eventually it lets up enough to let him explore further and deeper than your own have ever reached.

"I'm… I'm not sure how best to please you," Seokmin admits, drinking in your every reaction to his curious ministrations. "But there's this urge, this need, to make you feel good. Prep you properly for my… my entry."

By pure accident, he strokes a rough patch of nerves that makes your eyes roll back, hips lifting at the sensation of wanting more of whatever that feeling was, and your quiet noises melt into a loud, needy moan.

"More," you plead, "touch me more, Seok."

He eases his other finger inside without question, grunting at the squeeze that almost prevents him from moving to where you want him the most. But unlike the rest of his quivering body, the prosthesis remains steady, still, and patient. Waiting until it can bully itself and a third finger past your entrance's vice-like clench.

You start pulling on your breasts, trying to alleviate the tingling in them. Seokmin observes with a keen eye and a toothy, fanged grin. After a bit, he leans down to let his tongue trace the underside of one mound, leaving behind a saliva trail shining in the unconventional lighting as he tends to the next. Alternating with playful nips and naughty tugs to your nipples whenever your grip on them falters from the overwhelming pleasure.

So attentive and eager, soon you're writhing beneath him as you hit your peak. One hand grips your hip tightly, surely to leave a bruise with the way it cramps. His other doesn't let up, well-oiled mechanisms continuing to pump in and out of your trembling pussy until you whine from the overstimulation.

His wings fold protectively around both of you like a canopy as you share a tender kiss. Dazed and happy, you tenderly brush back black bangs and play with one of the feathers that's sprouted near the hairline above his ear. He shivers.

"Let me take care of you too."

"Are you sure? What about your shoulder?"

"That's the least of my concerns right now."

"I can still…"

"Later. First, I want to help you."

Suddenly, Seokmin's shy again, flushed cheeks darkening. "I… I think I'm a little different… down there so it's okay if you don't want to… or get scared."

"It's not like I've seen enough dicks to compare whether what you're packing is normal."

The both of you share a goofy laugh that eases the presumed awkwardness. He sits back to unbutton his pants but you stop him.

"May I?"

You might as well have knocked the air out of his lungs. He stares at you wide-eyed and then emphatically nods, finally clearing his throat to squeak out, "Sure."

Ignoring the aftershocks of your earlier orgasm, you sit up and kneel in front of him. Intent on a few minor distractions, your mouth and hands start at his shoulders to work their way down. Imagining you have the power to heal the damage dealt to his body and soul through tender touches.

You see a sad sense of beauty and justice in the patchwork of metal bolts and bark. And as you apply marks of love that bruise and blossom between them, he lets out a content warble. You're quick to undo the button of his pants, both of you gasping at the utterly wet mess seeping through the material when you tug the zipper down with your teeth.

He lifts his hips to help and once he's just as naked as you do you take him in. Anatomy was meagerly touched upon during your days at the convent, so truthfully all you're aware of at the sight of his heavy cock is the need to be filled with it.

And the closest thing to take him is your mouth, jaw already aching before you even open it. Almost reverently, your hands wrap around to stabilize it. Seokmin hisses pleasantly at the contact.

"You don't have to —"

He's cut off by a groan as you inquisitively suckle the tip. The copious amounts of slick smearing from it and down the base taste sweeter than Seungcheol's lollipops and you moan heartily, causing his thighs beneath your elbows to tense at the vibrations.

"Oh, mayfly."

A wing caresses your cheek that bulges as you take more and more of him, Seokmin's hands tearing at the sheets. The tip of another wing tantalizingly drags down your bare back. Your hands begin to explore, finding the puffy edges around the slit from which the thick cock emerges from. His hips jolt upwards at the contact to sensitive tissues, causing you to gag.

"Ah, 'm sorry!"

While he whispers repeated apologies, you're only compelled to take him further. Slowly you get used to the stretch, but no matter how much more you're able to squeeze down your throat there's still enough of his length for both of your hands to play with. It gets easier the more aggressive you get, his cock seeming to respond to your vigor in tandem. Soon you're lost to the haze of whether you're bobbing your head up and down or it's swirling languidly in your mouth on its own accord.

Seokmin's hips stutter but you feel the tremor first pulse against the inner walls of your throat. His cock throbs as you pull off of it, hollowing your cheeks and parting with deliberately powerful suction. A loud pop releases its tip and your hand supports its weighty girth falling forward. You dig the nails of your free hand into the muscle of his quaking thigh, ducking down to teethe at the puffy slit from where his cock must emerge.

Moving on to licking and dragging the point of your tongue along the sizable vein lining the underside causes Seokmin's low groans to turn into a high-pitched trill. Once you reach the swollen, leaking head and nibble on the hard glans, it spasms wildly and finally erupts. From the top slit seeps sweet syrupy fluid that readily overflows into your awaiting, open mouth.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he blabbers.

You'd reply that there's no need for gratitude, perhaps you'd thank him, but the viscous release keeps spilling out. Rivulets trickle well past your lips and coat your chest. Although still in a euphoric daze, his eyes flash with sharp satisfaction. Instantly possessive at the sight of your bare body decorated so erotically.

His wings snap open — filled with purpose — and your face is pressed down into the mattress. Surrounded in a smoky musk as the angelic monstrosity it belongs to and destined to be your mate hovers above.

Your voice comes out hoarse as you raise up onto your elbows and spitefully spit out a black feather. "Do those wings of yours prevent you from being topped or something?"

"I'll let you find out another time, partner," Seokmin huffs, laughter evident despite his apparent breathlessness. He steals a tender kiss, pleased grunting at how your lips — shiny and swollen — taste of him. "But for now…"

Like an anchor, the tech material warmed by your shared body heat and passion winds underneath your hips, keeping them raised. A calloused, ticklish touch roams traces your spine. He draws an occasional spiral here and there as he goes, mindful of your wound, until firmly pinning the nape of your neck to the side, creating the perfect arch of your back.

"I think you'll like this," Seokmin says as if he isn't liking the view below him.

But for you, straight ahead lies the dresser's mirror. It reflects the full manifestation of an independent Plant poised to devour a human in the most intimate sense. The fearsome size of his cock lies heavy on top of your ass, leaking droplets of arousal all over your backside.

"Will it fit?"

"Of course, you are mine to claim and take." His hips just forward and you both moan. "I think we're both wet enough to try."

"I trust you."

"Let me know if it hurts in any way and we'll stop right away, mayfly."

Many troupes of desert-traveling dancers have mesmerized you before. Yet even they can't compare to the graceful and smooth motion of Seokmin releasing your neck to align his tip with the entrance of your cunt and slowly bullying his way in.

Tears of pain mixing to unfathomable pleasure blur the vision of your mouth widening to let out whines and moans. "Seokkie…"

"Mhm, mayfly… my love… my mate."

Finally, the front of his thighs are flush against yours. Hips pressed tight against your ass. Fully sheathed inside your tight hole, neither of you have ever felt such intensity before. He surrenders his body weight on top of yours, hands braced outside of yours clenching loose feathers and silk sheets. The outer heaviness matches the intensity of what your pussy struggles to accommodate.

"Mine."

Seokmin's hips swirl at a slow pace. Rather than thrust, he massages the sensitive glands at the base of his cock with the soft flesh of your ass. His length seems to shrink and grow and writhe with a mind of its own, filling and teasing you nonstop. Leaving no surface of your inner walls untouched or untended to for too long.

"Yours."

You shudder in blissed-out delirium and Seokmin lights up — literally.

Fluorescent lines glow in distinct patterns across skin, brightening the more he starts to pant and build up your shared pleasure. Sharp canines prick into the skin of your unmarked shoulder as he wraps his prosthesis under your stomach to raise your hips, the new position driving you faster to that rapidly approaching edge. You cry out with a lurch, blurrily making out his glowing form that shudders above.

Though the view in the mirror gets hidden by black wings stroking your entire body. Teasing the underside of your tits and tenderly brushing away the stings of his teeth marks.

"I-I love you," Seokmin rasps.

"Love…" You manage to enunciate the words, mind emptying and drool wetting the bed as your second peak approaches. "Love you too."

Pain and pleasure draw forth an onslaught of your apparent arousal that lecherously mixes with the frothy mess dribbling from his cock. Claws appear on Seokmin's right hand, another addition to the bestial Plant features emerging in the throes of passion. He's not completely lost to the primal thrall though, able to resist from breaking skin.

Delicately scratching your waist without drawing blood, then using the finely pointed tips to pluck and tease effortlessly at your clit. You cry out, body shaking as waves of euphoria crash against the shoreline of imminent pleasure.

Seokmin helps ride out your peak with a couple of speedy thrusts. The feeling of his hips slamming into you has you seeing more stars than Gunsmoke's galaxy contains. And just as you're overcome with too much stimulation, he lets go with a particularly strong bite into the top of your shoulder.

His cock softens and its heavy weight like a blanket along with the continual pump of his warm, soothing release. The feeling of it leaving none of your inner walls untouched feels as sweet as it tasted on your tongue and helps ease the ache inside your cunt. Still joined together and slick with stickiness, he collapses onto his side and gently assists you with rolling over so you can face him.

"Hey, you."

"Hello there yourself, lovely mayfly."

Your nose wrinkles but gets smoothed out by feather tips playing with the ends of your hair. Seokmin smiles as you snuggle closer into his chest so two of his wings can cocoon around you as the heated fervor from prior activities cools.

"Did that help?"

"… Yes," he says though his tone wavers with hesitance.

You raise your chin and see the electric blue luster hasn't faded yet from his gaze. Sheepishly, the corner of his mouth raises and you shiver, feeling the swell of his cock stretch out your pussy. The bulge it creates brushes against Seokmin's abdomen and he twitches.

"Sorry, it's… I'm gonna be kinda insatiable now that I've had a taste…" He trails off, wings snapping behind him. Slowly, he pulls his hips away and you both hiss as his cock is dragged out.

"What are you —"

You're cut off by the animalistic glimmer in his gaze, catching the feral smirk that he attempts to hide by licking his palm. Quick as lightning, Seokmin fleetingly swipes the outer lips of your cunt and brings his fingers, tonguing at them. Body set aflame again, neither of your break eye contact as he moans headily.

"But not of this," he rasps.

Before you know it, you're staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stickers on his ceiling with your mate between your legs. His wings trail along your calves, their flexible ends curling near your inner thighs, encouraging them to spread and stay open, pinning them in place.

"Oh, aren't you a beauty?"

He moans shamelessly at the sight of your messy, glistening pussy. You squirm at the ticklish sensation of his feathers and that smoldering, ravenous look. If only he knew what it was like to see him devour you with his mouth.

Delicious.

Just like the feeling of his tongue working its way inside and licking up the shared essence of your releases.

Your fingers weave between strands of hair as black as night, tugging lightly and accidentally snagging one of his ear feathers. He moans eagerly, and the vibration has you shuddering, already quickly nearing another mind-shattering orgasm. But you don't let him carry you there too fast, smooth brain muscles trying to form a question.

"How… long… how long do these cycles last?"

Seokmin presses a loving kiss to your twitching clit and blows, entranced by how you clench around nothing. Then he smirks, elongated teeth shining in the darkness like a predatory warning though you have nothing to fear.

"As much as you can handle but… we're really only just getting started, mayfly."

The motion light kicks on as Seungcheol shifts his boots in the direction of the unlit kitchen area. Junhui and Minghao's entrance awaken the rest of the lights and they frown at the makeshift bunker set up.

"What are you three doing in here?"

Seungkwan sleepily mumbles a curse word and next to him, Mingyu blearily rubs his eyes. A scattering of empty pudding cups and bottles lie around them as well as a disorganized array of poker cards.

"We're afraid to venture out of here."

Junhui shares a secretive look with his closest friend at Seungkwan's cryptic words. "Ah, so that's happened. Or happening."

"'Bout time y'all came 'round. Time for ya to pay up!"

"Pay up for what?"

"Compensation. 'M the one who got the closest to bein' right knowin' they'd fuck after confessin'."

"If anyone needs compensation, it's me for the mental damage of having to make one of my lovelies into an enhanced sex toy."

Seungcheol guffaws. "Ya didn't! Ya lil cheatin', schemin' scientist!"

Meanwhile, Mingyu looks mighty concerned. "Does that mean Seokmin has a dildo for an arm?!"

Minghao crosses his arms with a steely glare. "No."

"Oh good. I don't think I could look at him the same."

"I don't think any of us will ever look at him the same again."

Junhui eagerly rocks back and forth on his heels, hands stuffed in the deep pockets of his lab coat. "Do you think they discovered all the functions and benefits of it yet?"

"Should be our next bettin' round."

"No more bets. I don't care if it's half a double dollar to go in, I refuse to go through this again."

Mingyu elbows his raven-haired companion. "C'mon, your heart's warmed by this!"

"Warmed and consumed by the rage and fury of hellfire, yes."

Giggling, the tall man smiles widely and holds his hand out. "Alright, I win then!"

"Win what? Thought you didn't remember your bet."

Mingyu purses his lips. "Only because none of you took me seriously and joked with a bunch of gross innuendos when I said they'd find their home in one another!" He then sighs dreamily. "But if I'm right, we'll know by tomorrow morning."

"Who says it'll be tomorrow mornin'. Might take weeks. Months even, I reckon'."

"I'll kick you all out before it comes to that," Minghao threatens and runs a hand through the few strands of hair without a bead. He tosses a wad of money in front of Mingyu. "Never involve me in this again."

Despite all the grumbling, everyone has a sense of lightness in their hearts at the thought of their dear friends finally getting together. And the happiest of them all is Mingyu, who cheerily gathers his prized double dollars, dreaming of all the pudding he can buy.

A lone figure stands on the edge of the valley of the Melca Border. The Sea of Sand, aptly named, can change tide and turn vicious at any second. Their cloak billows in the sandy winds that whip around them, though even the steadfast hood can't hide the satisfied smile on their face.

"You did well," they commend and the name that falls from their lips is one some might consider lost to the sands of time.

"Saintess." Another figure materializes out of the sand gusts in response to the praise. "It is to be done as you said."

"Very well. Shall we go now?"

Whether it's the mysterious sands that swirl around and whisk them away or the lost technology cube that transports them, no one will ever know for no one ever saw them. Like ghosts, they disappear and find themselves outside the real ghost town — where it all began.

A toma croaks in the distance. Brave travelers dare cross the ruined wasteland and the saintess meditating atop one of the largest rocks hidden in the shadows opens her gray eyes tinted by lilac in the glow of the moons to observe. Despite all of her traveling, the white robes wrapped around her body remain in pristine condition.

She turns behind to look at the man standing over a scattering of stones, staring intently at one of them. With poise and purpose, she dusts off her clothes and strides over to him.

"Chan."

Brown eyes tear away from his own name carved into the headstone in front of him to look at the one who's said it aloud.

"Yes, Saintess?"

"Do you regret it?"

"No. Never."

"Good," she states, satisfied with his response. With a grand sweep of her hood to cover short, dark hair, she gestures to the east. "We will set up camp one more night before returning to the Saint in the morning before he speaks with our Master."

Chan mutely nods, following the saintess back into the desert where she confidently leads him to a cave that will shield them from the unpredictable nature of Gunsmoke's wastelands. He thinks of you, the girl he must keep safe and two brothers. One with wings as pure white despite his continual revelry with hate-filled darkness, the other bearing ones the complete opposite color of his twin — a wild card.

He reminisces over the Blessed and Holy Sisterhood of Little Ivywood, the convent and all the orphans that lived there. Pondering Sister Meryl's role, who stands before him now as the revered Saintess, leader for the Eye of Joshua and second only to the Bishop of the cult named after himself. She moves curious little statues back and forth across the surface of a large flat rock and the young man can't help but ask her a question in the unnerving silence.

"Do you think this will work?"

Meryl smiles elusively, as always. She picks up the smallest one with a deliberate flourish, placing it on a blackened space close to the last row of alternating squares carved into the stone's surface.

"Have you ever played chess before?"

"No, what is it?"

"An Earthern board game. It is quite complicated." Gesturing to the piece she just moved, she continues. "This is a pawn, the weakest of all chess pieces."

Chan bristles. "But strength comes in numbers, no? There are eight of each color, surely the right side can find a way to win."

Unfazed by his agitation, the saintess nods placatingly. "With the right strategy, even a pawn may become a queen — the most powerful. Unpredictable." She points to a white figurine with a cross on top of it. "Enough to checkmate a king."

Entranced, Chan watches as she rearranges and repositions various pieces across the faux chessboard. Soon, the pawn that took on the mantle of a Black Queen captures the White King. His eyes roam what's left on the battlefield at the end of the match, pointing to one that looks like a tower.

"What's that one?"

"A rook. It best supports an allied pawn towards promotion from behind the scenes." Her eyes sparkle mischievously. "It's most powerful during the end of the game, as you can see."

Chan gulps, holding his breath for a moment, and clears his throat. "Then I'm ready."

"Wonderful," Meryl nods, "we'll depart for Master Dokyeom's stronghold in the morning. I'm sure Joshua, our dear Saint, will be… pleased upon our return."

"To the glory of the Black King's rise."

"And to the glory of our so-called queen."

Keep him safe, Chan thinks to himself as he settles on the ground. And yourself. One day we'll reunite in the most joyous of occasions…

He pulls out a faded wanted poster with the infamous outlaw worth sixty billion double dollars, donning a wishful smile before closing his eyes and murmuring, "I'd even bet this impossible amount on it."

onlyseokmins: April 2024 ©

#ez.creates #svthub #svt.smut #dokyeom smut #dk smut #seokmin smut #lee seokmin smut #svt smut #seventeen smut #kpop smut #trigun au #svt au #seventeen au

[yangsharperavery]

there's this thing that carmy and sydney do that i don't see talked about alot in that, they heavily mirror and mimic each other verbally.

this is a common behavioral thing that people often do to become emotionally/mentally closer or endear someone to them.

sometimes it's completely unconscious, sometimes people do it on purpose. it's also an effective communication tactic.

we've spoken a lot about how they seem very much on the same wavelength when it comes to fine dining and their respective training and their vision for a more cohesive, cooperative space.

since last season, they share the same brain, finish each others sentences, have similar ideas, etc.

but there's this element of mirroring and sameness that occurs when they're speaking to one another that's not only about strengthening their communication, avoiding explosive misunderstandings and reassuring the other that they're with them and hear them...

but moreso that they're the same as them.

very much "i see you in me, i see me in you" type energy.

on some real "i am you, you are me, we are one" type time.

like, let's merge more than just our brains type shit. maybe our energies and souls? merging the bodies can come last.

in every single episode that these two share screentime/space in s2, they mirror/affirm each other in speech (they often mirror in body language, which they also did last season)

in the first ep, at the lockers, carmy says "you gonna leave early?" to which sydney says, a few lines into their exchange, "we can go home early."

he also repeats exactly what she says back to her before she falls through the wall, after she's fallen through it.

in the second ep, while they're cooking, it's the "you can tell me to fuck off," "i doubt i'd tell you to fuck off", later he has a question and repeats back to her "and you can tell me to fuck off."

in the third ep, during the exchange about the wall it's "you let me know," "i'll let you know."

in the beginning of the fifth ep, sydney says "standard operating procedure" to cicero, right in front of carmy, a scene later he says the exact same thing back to her in front of natalie.

and of course the "goodnight" "i'm saying goodnight" exchange at the end of that ep.

their verbiage in certain heightened or vulnerable situations being damn near identical and then parroted back to the other seems very intentional.

almost as if you could swap his dialogue for hers in the script during these specific scenes/parts.

during their argument in ep eight, regarding the chaos menu (& claire!), they start riling each other up and sydney goes for the "sorry" sign, she then says to him, after apologizing, "i'm tired. i've been tired but i'm just really tired."

and then carmy repeats her "sorry, sorry, no, i'm sorry, i'm tired."

they're literally verbally affirming to one another, that despite the physical, energetic disconnect, they're feeling and going through the same thing.

the same stress, anxiety, uncertainty, doubt and discord just not directly with one other because there's this huge gap between them and how this vision is going to be realized (mostly because of carmy's avoidance after spending time with claire while still attempting to give sydney what she wants.)

see also: "i'm trying..." to "i know you're trying, i see you're trying."

she echos and affirms him even though she's more than justified and correct in being upset with him.

in ep nine it's the much discussed and infamous, "you could do this without me" "i couldn't do this without you" back and forth.

on the immediate heels of sydney proclaiming she doesn't like/doesn't do the corny back and forth thing.

but my good sis you've literally been doing that with carmy in at least every other conversation for the ENTIRE season?!?!

she just doesn't realize it because it's usually being done when they're opening up/being vulnerable, fighting or affirming/reassuring one another.

it's even more amazing to think that this is occurring while they're apart for practically the entire middle part of the season.

but when they do have moments where they come together and discuss anything, there's this overt mirroring/echoing/parroting in their communication.

the implications are even more heightened when you think about how they don't/can't reassure each other physically.

carmy's touches are ghostlike and fleeting, i'm almost surprised he allowed himself the two that we saw this season.

we talk a lot about how the narrative obviously parallels them visually.

but the verbal echoing is not only indicative of their connection and their devotion to one another, it's also another way for them to directly parallel one another in the moment, while they're both on screen, to each other's faces!

again, very much a "i see you, i am you, i have you" energy is naturally imbued in these moments because of this type of communication.

because using this method of verbal repetition is psychologically anchoring and can be inferred almost like an attempt to merge yourself as close as possible to the person you're mirroring.

or at the very least (subconsciously) acknowledging and understanding that you're already damn near identical.

#sydcarmy #carmy x sydney #the bear fx #the bear meta #sydcarmy meta

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

ok i have a sex ed-related ask but it's kind of nasty/gross so feel free to just skip it, i won't be offended. im really sorry if this grosses you out, i hope it doesn't i just have no idea where else to ask this kind of question.

sooooo I'm kind of interested in trying anal sex someday and I've tried uhh poking around in there while masturbating before, and while it feels good, I've noticed that pretty much every time I go past one knuckle I end up with, um, a little poop on my finger(s). it's not like a lot but it's definitely there.

from what I've read that's apparently not supposed to happen unless you already had to poop, but when I'm doing it I never feel like I have to go and even when I try to go afterward nothing comes out. is there something wrong with me or is there something other people are doing that i don't know about?? I absolutely do not want to subject anyone else's hand/dick to That so should I just resign myself to never getting to try it?

hi anon,

nothing gross about this; anal sex and poop are both perfectly natural! and whatever you've been reading, poop's a part of regular part of anal sex. we need to be careful about keeping it clean, because fecal matter can unfortunately be a bit more dangerous than pee or other fluids affiliated with sex, but that's easy peasy!

first off, simplest things: gloves. like I was talking about just yesterday, body-safe, sex-friendly gloves are dummy easy to get ahold of. making sure to put down a towel or blanket you're comfortable getting dirty is also a good idea, just in case bigger accidents happen. playing in the bathtub or shower are also good options for purposes of easy cleaning.

there's no guaranteed way to prevent pooping, but youtube sexologist Lindsey Doe has a classic video on anal sex prep with some helpful tips including learning how to track your bowel movements:

douching to clear out your bowls with water on short notice is also an option, but I need to emphasize that this is a risky behavior that should not be done with frequency for the sake of your anal tissue (it's delicate!); 2-3 times a week TOPS (no pun intended). don't worry, I have a video for that too:

(no explicit imagery in this video, YT just sucks.)

in regards to potential partners: listen. sex is messy. not just anal sex, all sex has the potential to get messy because bodies just do stuff. if someone's not willing to take that risk by doing anal that's their prerogative, but that has no bearing on you. you're doing just fine :)

#sex edventures 2024

[fairuzfan]

it's quite a dishonest framing that you say hussein was "regarding you with suspicion" baselessly even though you've publicly state on your blog how you believe zionism is an "intracommunity" discussion.

they at no point even mention that they blame you for "israel's actions". they assumed you were talking about zionism because of previous pointed statements you endorsed where you say zionism should be only discussed by jews. its not imagined, you straight up said this? and you claim that hussein is antisemitic for assuming you're saying the same thing again just with more inclusive language? And it coincided a few days after me posting that tributary post about "defining yourself as zionist or antizionist"? So he assumed that it was in relation to it? sure you might not have meant it about zionism this time, but with previous statements you've made/endorsed you don't exactly have the right to act like you have no idea why they would assume that and misconstrue this as an antisemitic attack where he's conflating zionism with judiasm when you literally agree that zionism should only be discussed by jews, which means you yourself are conflating zionism and judiasm.

but ok, i guess, they were just taking your words out of context because they're "antisemitic". I even saw this ask last month and assumed you were talking about zionism in your recent post because of this statement you published and told him privately thats what i assumed you were talking about. Not because of you being jewish. But because i remembered this statement you agreed with because i was so offended reading it. And yeah it's a really bad statement that I'll remember because of how antipalestinian it is so sorry I don't think you get to claim the moral highground???? You didn't exactly disagree with any part of this person's statements?????

And like I would have left this alone but hussein often gets called antisemitic by people you associate with and reblog from, and it really shows how little compassion you all have for Palestinians (which btw as I say over and over, we have a right to point out harmful rhetoric that impacts us) who have a "knee-jerk reaction" to these things when we quite literally see our communities call for the deaths of our friends and family by starvarion and bombing in the name of zionism and when we call it out irl we get called antisemitic. You could have like sent an ask or publicly clarified your intentions but you just jumped straight to calling him antisemitic. Which the onus of responsibility is on YOU because of your previous statements. Why would we assume you mean something different based on past experiences???

Rhetoric like "zionism is an intracommunity issue" is stuff that has literally led to death of our loved ones so of course we have "kneejerk reactions" when there is literal proof of you saying these things before. We are not doing this because you're Jewish, we are doing this because we see and experience first hand this rhetoric and youre perpetuating it blatantly and you have people who follow you who look to you for perspective on "israel/palestine". It's so disingenuous to claim he's an antisemite when he's literally finding common talking points zionists perpetuate against us and call it out. And saying "I don't support the likud government or Westbank settlers" means nothing to us because our families were expelled from palestine before likud and settlers happened. Trying to separate modern day zionism from its colonial roots from the 1800s is at its core anti-palestinian, no matter what other conversations you want to have.

Again like the only reason this matters is because people follow you and look to you for perspective AND you reblog/interact with people we have pointed out as harmful. I literally would not care enough to make this post if i didnt see your posts spread enough times around here. So it's not because you're jewish and framing it like that is really dishonest when the person pointing this out was a palestinian who lost family due to zionism throughout multiple generations of their lives.

#not making this rebloggable because i dont want this to be a big thing but like #the way this circle of people refuse to interact with ideas about palestine outside of like. standing together or #“israeli/palestinian peace groups” #just shows you guys are more concerned for your own circumstances than any actual liberation of palestine #like come on. you say zionism is an intracommunity issue and then get mad at people who “misinterpret” you #based on past statements. #like be for real #why would we care about you if none of us have seen your posts around #youre perpetuating zionist ideology and WE are the antisemites. ok.

[voxmortuus]

hello!! I'm the one who asked Hannibal x fem!reader where she is married to Frederick Chilton. Don't worry, and I'm sorry I didn't specify very well. My bad.

What I wanted to get to was something like this: Hannibal has one of her dinners with Frederick, where he also finds out that he has a wife and tells him to bring her to dinner. Is where he meets Y/N who is kind, caring and just amazing, yet very different from frederick, then he finds out she works at a hospital and starts stalking her until he kidnaps her? She also has a little crush on him more like she finds him attractive, but still she loves her husband.

it's a bit dark but i've started reading dark romance and i liked it lol

it can contain smut, fluff, angst or whatever you want. Thank you and im sorry again.

►PAIRING: Hannibal X F!Reader Brief appearance in beginning from Fredrick. ►UNIVERSE: Hannibal ►WORDS: 1.6k ►SUMMARY/PROMPT: See Above. ►TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abducted reader | Dub-Con | Forced Intercourse | Vaginal Penetration | Internal Ejaculation | Restraint of Reader | Impure thoughts of another while with husband | I may be missing some, but you get a general idea, so please proceed with caution if there is anything in there that is overly triggering please let me know politely and I will make sure it is added to the list. ►NOTE: Hannibal and Hannibal Character requests are closed. All other requests are open. Sorry if this isn't what you expected, or had envisioned yourself, I apologize. But I hope you enjoyed my vision. I also apologize that this was in my drafts for a while. I hope this finds you well Nonnie. ►IMAGE & DIVIDER CREDIT: @nyxvuxoa ►IN STORY DIVIDER CREDIT: @firefly-graphics ►My Master Masterlist | Hannibal Masterlist

Sitting in Hannibal's dining room, you look over your husband sitting across from you. You smile softly as he speaks. Always a talker that one. Full of himself, but you just let him talk. Watching him a moment, you look over at Hannibal and observe him a moment. Tilting your head, watching the way his lips move as he spoke, the way his face held slight expressions, and the way he ate his dinner. It was as if watching the finest masterpiece in motion.

You shake your head from your thoughts a moment and look down at your dinner and you smile, taking a bite from it you draw in a small breath.

"Fredrick, you never told me about your wife." Hannibal points out with a small smile looking over you a moment.

"I could of sworn I have." He pointed out.

"I think I would have remembered such a conversation, and there was none regarding this lovely creature." He complimented.

You blush. "Fred is just very much involved in his work. Sometimes he hardly remembers we work in the same place." you chuckle.

"How can I forget about that love? After all you bring me my lunch when it's that time." He chuckled.

The thoughts about Fredrick's brain matter being cooked for Hannibal's next meal crossed his mind while on your mind thoughts of Hannibal's breath across your skin crossed yours. The way he would delicately undress you, or featherlight kisses against your flesh. You lick your lips and look down at your plate as you adjust in your chair.

Picking at your plate, your mind preoccupied with the idea of Hannibal in ways that aren't suitable. You're married, and your husband is sitting right across from you. You press your legs together as your mind shows you what it would be like with Hannibal in the privacy of his bedroom... or even yours.

Fredrick kept going on about the most little things. He just wouldn't stop, but you didn't mind, where he spoke, you didn't need to. He spoke enough for both of you. You knew how people felt about Fredrick, but you stood by his side. Doting, caring, kind, and always willing to go the extra mile when needed.

You were his opposite, and everyone noticed this. Hannibal noticed it. He kept watch of you, even from a distance. Learning that you work in the same place as your husband and knowing that he really doesn't pay attention to things, thoughts started to brew, especially when he picked up on the wetness between your legs, maybe a part of him knew that wasn't for your husband.

Hannibal was a predator, a predator with a god complex. He knew exactly what he wanted, how he was going to get it, and just what moment he was going to get it, and honey, he was looking right at you. He didn't care much for your husband, honestly, his liver would make a good pate... for the neighborhood stray cats. But you, you he wanted to savor.

It seemed like he was walking in a fog as you sat there, the more he got to know about you, the more he realized you drove a hunger in him no one else was going to be able to satisfy. During this time the three of you had concluded your dinner, and he was a man on a new mission. Your idiot husband would be none the wiser in realizing you're gone, seems he hardly pays attention as it is, and maybe you could use something different in your life... something... unpredictably exciting.

Over the next few weeks, Hannibal watched you, paid attention to you, found your likes your dislikes, learned your schedule. Hannibal had decided to take it upon himself to make sure that you were going to be the one to show him around this place, but you weren't going to be returning to your post. Not today, not tomorrow, and if he had it his way, not at all.

What Hannibal lacked in realizing was your fondness of him as well, but you love your husband dearly, and while the mental fantasies may be nice, you would never act on them. You desire only your husband in that light, so your thoughts were just that, little fantasies that would never be acted out. Not in a way you want them to at least.

It all happened so fast. You were showing him around the facility, the next thing you knew you were waking up tied to a bed with silk rope and the harder you pulled, the tighter your restraints got. Mentally you started to panic, and you started to jerk your arms and legs but you couldn't figure out how to get out of this.

"Where am I?" you call out. But no answer. The lack of answer sends you into a deeper panic. You stayed really quiet and listened. Then you heard a door close. "HELLO?! HEY! WHERE AM I?" You call out again. But instead of a response, you're greeted with the face of Hannibal. "Dr. Lecter. Why am I here? What have you done? Fredrick is going to be worried sick. Let me go. Please let me go." While begging you realize this is one of many unsavory fantasies you've had about Hannibal, maybe in a different light, but along the same idea.

"Don't be foolish, he hardly notices you past his own nose. He won't realize you're gone until he's so lost in his own hunger that he's calling for you to make his dinner." He stated.

"That's not true Hannibal. Please, please let me go. I'll give you whatever you want, just let me go." You state.

He looks at you, his eyes hungry but for something different, something no one else has been able to satisfy. "I know your thoughts at dinner, they weren't for your husband, that dewy scent. If anyone says a woman doesn't have a scent, they're blind. You were thinking of me, much like you are now." he pointed out.

You shake your head. "Hannibal, we can't do this. I love my husband, he's been good to me. Please. Please let me go." you plead again.

He shakes his head. "No, not today, maybe not tomorrow, we're going to live out our own fantasies." he tells you.

"Hannibal. No, no I'm a married woman, I can't." you state watching him get closer to you.

Hannibal's hand running up your leg, under your dress, you realize that he's taken it upon himself to remove your panties and your breathing gets heavier. You close your eyes and look away. This can't be happening. Tensing as he reaches your dewy bud, he runs his fingers over it delicately and watches you tense and take in a deeper breath before you shake your head.

Stripping down you look him over, biting your lip you close your eyes and shake your head. In your mind you've told him no, but a very confused no. The kind of no he only hears as yes. The kind of no that states, you're confused, and you want him to fulfill your fantasies.

Pulling at your arms to try and get free wasn't working, and in a matter of blinking he was shoving himself between your legs and you let out a scream. While confused yes, you mentally admitted to yourself that he filled you far better than Fedrick, but this was wrong, and you wanted him to stop.

"Please, please..." you kept saying.

"Shh, shh... I know this is what you want." he tells you.

With each thrust came a grunt from him, a whimper from you. Your body responded to him, very well, you were wet, drippy, and you soaked his cock, but you were mentally blank, you did know how to respond to what your body was responding to. You weren't wanting of this.

Tears fell from your eyes, your hands gripped at the rope, your body his to use, and use it he did. Thrusting and gripping and grunting and groaning, you felt good to him, and he wanted more.

Suddenly you found your hips moving, and while you wanted this mentally, you knew you couldn't give in, he gripped at you, and moved your hips even more. You felt yourself close, but you needed to hold off. But you couldn't. With a slacked jaw, and a deep gasp of air you let out a scream as he hit that right spot. Your whole body shook.

"That's it... come on." He beckoned for your finish, and like that, a raw pure explosion of euphoria filled you, and you lay limp. Your mind went quiet as he gave his last few final thrusts, as he buried himself deep within you and coated your velvet like walls with thick ribbons of his own release.

In your mind, this was going to come to an end, but it wasn't. He used you day in and day out, maybe you'd grow to love Hannibal, realize he was right, your husband didn't notice, and he didn't care. Right now, in this moment what mattered, was you were being taken care of. You were being fed, bathed, hydrated. You were a prisoner yes, but was it really all that bad? Was Hannibal really that bad? Or were you going to find that moment to break free and run back to the man that forgets you work at the same hospital? Regardless of what happens, you were going to make the most of it. May as well start now right?

#hannibal imagine #hannibal x reader #hannibal x you #hannibal fluff #hannibal angst #hannibal smut #hannibal lecter imagine #Hannibal oneshot #hannibal fanfiction #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter x you #Mads Mikkelsen gif #hannibal lecter angst #hannibal lecter #hannibal #hannibal gifs #hannibal nbc #hannibal netflix #mads mikkelsen #VoxMortuus

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hey! I wanted to request a fic with minho maybe where the reader (she/her) is shy? And a mom friend too maybe like feeding everybody 24/7 and caring all sort of stuff with her like band aids and napkins.

(Sorry for any mistakes english is not my first language)

I think I can just about manage this.

This is kind of short because I really could just not think of a decent plot for the life of me.

Writer's block is a killer man.

SOFT AT HEART

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

SUMMERY: See above. Takes place before the arrival of Thomas.

You've been harbouring a long-term crush on Minho, but the problem is you're shy and nervous, and Minho is anything but. Of course, Minho isn't the only Glader you care about, but it's hard to bond with a group of rowdy boys sometimes. So, you show your affections by taking care of them instead. Unbeknownst to you, your subtle acts of kindness give Minho the drive he's been missing for a long time- and maybe he needs a bit more than what he's getting.

WARNINGS: None, really.

You're the odd one out in the Glade. Of course, there's the blinding obvious that you're the only girl amongst, but also you're more reserved than your counterparts.

You've always felt like there's a strange barrier between you and the other Gladers- maybe it's because of your gender, maybe it's because of your personality. But it doesn't matter; something about you just doesn't quite click.

It's not that you don't like the boys. You love them, in fact- they're normally kind and understanding with you even though they aren't with each other. They have a lot of respect for you.

And the feeling is mutual.

But, you can't exactly go around telling a bunch of teenage boys how much you care about them without them getting the wrong idea. Not that you're great with your words to begin with. So, you show your affections through acts of service.

You offer food and water to tired Gladers who are too busy to stop working to have lunch- mainly Buliders, Track-hoes and Slicers. You carry bandages and band-aids for slight injuries that happen to those around you, and you always offer an understanding ear when the boys want to vent their frustrations, even if you don't always know what to say.

Maybe your subtle acts of kindness would just be a typical friendly gesture if it weren't for the fact that you have a massive crush on Minho.

You swore to yourself when you first came up in the Box that you wouldn't get romantically involved with any of the boys. And you've made that painfully clear to everyone. They're your friends, and they all see you as the big sister role you've put yourself in- but Minho?

Minho.

A flaw in your plan, to say to the least.

It's not like you guys talk all the time or spend loads of time together, but you have got into the habit of getting up early and meeting the Runners at the Doors to give them their lunch and drinks for the day.

You only do this so they can have more time in the Map Room before they leave for the day, which is some much needed precious seconds. You started doing this after you overheard Minho complaining about feeling like there's not enough time in the day. So, when you started showing up first thing in the morning, waking up earlier than most of the Glade, he definitely took a shine to you.

It's a simple gesture, really. One that doesn't seem to faze the other Runners in the slightest, but Minho always seems more determined and happier after seeing you. Even the Runners have pointed out a shift in work ethic to Ably.

Though, with you starting to cooperate with talking to Minho and having actual conversations, the way he looks at you is starting to make you melt.

You don't really know what it is about Minho. He's sarcastic and kind of mean sometimes, and he's definitely not scared of speaking his mind or acting recklessly. He's one of the highest regarded Gladers around, for obvious reasons, but he's probably also one of the most feared and powerful.

You've actually witnessed Minho tell Alby what to do.

What a day that was.

But that might be why you started liking him- because he isn't like that with you. Sure, you'll get the occasional witty comment or eye roll, but for the most part, he's kinder with you. It's kind of common knowledge that you're the Glade's soft spot, but that's more applicable to Minho than anyone else.

"Dude, you're staring again," Ben leans against a tree at the edge of the Deadheads where him and Minho occasionally spend free time away from the other members of the Glade.

"Hm?" Minho hums, sitting on the ground, not really paying attention to anything Ben has to say. That's nothing new.

"You're staring- again," Ben scoffs, crouching down next to him, "yanno you can talk her without her feeding us at the Doors?"

Minho glares at his friend. "I'm not staring."

Minho is a liar. You've plagued him for a while, even before you started providing for them. Of course, this is the expectation with being the only girl, but Minho has changed- like said before.

"You totally are, shuck-face."

"Slim it, Ben- you don't know what you're talking about."

"You're soft on her, man; everyone can see it."

"Everyone's soft on her, shuck-face. That's why she's made it clear she's not gonna date or any of that klunk with us."

"I mean..." Ben drags out the word, "you never know, right?"

"Dude, what are you getting at here?"

Ben shrugs. "I don't know, man, I'm just... picking up a vibe." Minho squints at his friend, bewildered that Ben thinks that's any kind of explanation.

"The shuck are you talking about?"

Ben sighs. "You've just been better, dude. It's nice having you back to normal."

Minho didn't need to ask. He knows what Ben's talking about. Before you showed up, Minho was rapidly losing hope. Having fully mapped the whole Maze and still without an exit, or even so much of a sign of an exit, it's kind of hard to keep hopes up.

But when you came up and started going around trying to raise everyone's spirits, despite being slightly awkward; he started to pick up speed again. The Glade became more positive, and Minho started to gain feelings for you.

Despite what you'd made clear.

"I think you're looking too much into it," Minho huffs, sitting back properly, leaning fully against the tree.

"I don't-"

"Hey!" You attempt to shout over to the boys, realising they're yet to come to dinner after the long day. You're holding two bowls of stew as you walk over. "You guys okay?" You ask, passing the food to the boys in turn.

Minho takes the dish from you. "Playing Glade mother as per usual?"

You avoid his gaze. "Yeah, well, you guys haven't eaten yet and Frypan is impatient- can't have our best Runners going hungry, can we?"

"Ah, so you think I'm the best?" Ben's tone is a kind of fake flirty, probably to gauge Minho's reaction. You just blink at him.

"I-I mean, I don't really know much about running, but I'm pretty sure Minho is the Keeper for a reason- so, uh, sorry?" Your words don't quite make sense, not wanting to insult Ben, but making your opinion known.

Minho can't help but smirk at this as Ben fake pouts. His eyes land on you, flickering up and down for a second, almost unintentionally; which makes your face feel warm.

"Anyway," you clear your throat, "I'm gonna..." You throw your thumb over your shoulder, "yanno."

"Yeah, catch you later." You give an awkward wave to Minho before you turn and walk slightly faster than normal away.

"You're whipped, bro," Ben chuckles between eating spoonfuls of stew, resulting in getting punched in the leg.

"Shut up, man."

Minho thought about this for a while- longer than he'd care to admit. He does like you, and you seem to be more friendly and talkative with him than you do the other Gladers.

Maybe he should just bite the bullet.

Maybe just asking you on a date wouldn't be that bad of an idea. I mean, the worst you can say is no, right? And you're a nice girl, of course, you'd be gentle about it.

Unless, you're not and you reject him and humiliate him.

Okay, so Minho might have a fear of rejection that he didn't know he had. It's not worth the awkwardness.

It's not until the next Bonfire night that Minho reconsiders this. You've taken a shine to the new Greenie.

And by "taken a shine", I mean the poor boy is rocking back and forth, curled into a ball and you're desperately trying to comfort him. He does seem to have relaxed a bit, but the Maze is a lot to take in.

He's been given Gally's Special Brew, and the alcohol has definitely calmed his nerves. So, you take a break, retreating to a more secluded area- still within shouting distance if you're needed, but far enough away to take a breather. You lean back against a log, letting your head test on the wood.

"Here," your eyes flicker open, seeing Minho standing over you, a drink in his hand.

He'd been watching you for a while, and seeing how dedicated and caring you've been literally all day has shown him he needs to make some kind of move.

"Thanks," you sit up straight, taking the drink off of him as he takes the spot next to you, both of you facing away from the festivities. "You not joining in?"

"Nah," he scoffs, taking a sip of his own drink.

"I guess you never really do, huh?" He smiles at you; he always feels warm inside when you show him that you pay attention to him. You pay attention to everyone, but sometimes it feels like you pay extra attention to him.

Probably because you do, but he doesn't know that.

"You know me so well," he scoffs and you roll your eyes before he playfully shoves you- something you wouldn't have the courage to do.

"'Course- I always pay attention to people I like," a smirk appears across Minho's face as he slightly raises his eyebrow. It takes you a second, but you quickly realise what that sounded like.

Your face immediately starts to burn and you look away. "I didn't mean-"

"Uh huh."

"I didn't!"

"Why do you look so embarrassed then?"

"Shut up," you grumble, hands coming to your face as Minho laughs at you. You've never been good at the flirting thing, and it's not hard to fluster you, but since you actually like Minho, it's drastically worse. "I didn't mean it like that- I just- you're my friend and I-I respect you- and-"

"Do you wanna go on a date?"

You freeze, turning to face him as you blink.

"What?"

Minho stares straight ahead, mainly so he doesn't freak out. "I just figured I'd stop thinking about asking and just actually ask you." You open your mouth to speak but he doesn't give you the chance. "I know you've got this whole dating rule, and you don't want any of that klunk- but I like you, (Y/N). And I used to think that if a girl came up here, I wouldn't care 'cause I've got the Maze to deal with. But, I can't help it- you're just... Good. Everyone here likes you and you're just a good person."

He looks at you, second guessing himself when he sees your completely blank expression.

"I-I don't mean- shuck it," he laughs. "You can say no and I won't be upset; I get it. But I just thought I'd ask. It's just one date, if you want, and then we don't have to do anything else or be anything and forget it even happened if you regret it. I don't wanna make you uncomfortable."

"What would we do?" The question is out of a genuine curiosity than anything. It's not like there are many restaurants or movie theatres in the Glade.

Now it's Minho's turn to blankly blink. "Well, we uh, we could go for a swim in the lake, or I could rob Frypan and we could have a picnic in the Deadheads, or we could just chill somewhere and talk about dumb klunk- whatever you wanna do."

"You've thought about this, huh?" You smile, warmth fluttering through your body as Minho turns a shade of pink, scratching the back of his neck.

"I mean... just a little." You've never seen him be embarrassed before.

It's kind of cute.

"Okay," you say after a second.

"Okay?"

"Okay, I'll go on a date with you; that picnic sounds good."

He grins. "Yeah?"

"Yeah... I kinda like you too, so..."

Minho can't stop smiling, even when you avoid looking at him again.

"You like me too?" You glance at him. He looks perfect, his lopsided smile, his dark hair and face illuminated by the flames behind him.

"Yeah," you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding, "I like you too. A lot, actually."

"Cool," he clears his throat, "cool, that's cool."

"(Y/N)!" Newt calls you, "the Greenie's freakin' out again! Give us a shuckin' hand!"

You roll your eyes, standing up and smiling at Minho once again. "So, it's a date then?"

"Yeah, it's a date- I'll figure out that picnic and let you know."

"Sounds like a plan," you say as you step over the log, trying to hide your smile and not squeal the entire Glade down as you go back to your daily role.

Minho watches you walk away, letting his head drop back when your out of sight. He's completely buzzing and feels on top of the world.

"So," Ben approaches, chuckling at his friend's love-drunk state, "you finally asked her then?"

"Shut your shuckin' mouth."

Yo, here's another Minho piece, though I am struggling with all the Minho work atm. He's one of my favourite all time characters but I'm running out of new ways to do the same thing, if that makes sense? So sorry if this one isn't as good- my quality is going down hill lmao.

I still hope you kind of like, regardless :))

#🍃 petri tmr #🌿 petri writes #🌿 petri writes tmr #🌿 petri tmr minho #tmr fanfiction #tmr minho #minho tmr #minho the maze runner #minho tmr x reader #tmr imagines #minho maze runner

[igot-sarang-ggg]

Jolyne's Teacher Pt. 1 (Teacher reader x Jotaro)

Masterlist | Chapter 2- Panic

Small Summary: It's a new school year, you're a third grade teacher at an elementary school in Florida with Jolyne Cujoh being in your class. You thought most of the teacher reports regarding Jolyne were lies or jokes but they turned out to be true. Jolyne likes to do things on her own even showing up to the schools annual Open house by herself. Seeing as she was by herself you take back to her house and meet Mr Cujoh for the first time. You and Mr. Cujoh seem to hit if off after a few months of talking… but you can't help but notice some bizarre things keep happening around the Cujoh's

Small mentions: SPOILERS, Jotaro gets divorced sooner then what is stated in manga

Chapter 1- Open House

A new school year had just begun which means new students and new names to learn. We had a meeting on Friday since school starts again on Monday. "Did you get Malcolm Sanchez this year?" A lot of the teachers were asking who they got this year and how lucky they were that they didn't have so and so students. I normally keep to myself when it comes to that talk, but, "Hey Y/n did you get Jolyne Cujoh this year? I had her for second grade."

"I do, why?" A few teachers that were listening chuckled and laughed, "Jolyne is quite the hand full."

"Be careful with her."

"I heard she starts fights with other kids for no reason."

They started to gossip about her and her family, "The father is a good for nothing husband that's why his wife left him-" I decided to walk out and not listen to them. You never know a family's circumstances so you can't judge them so quickly. If Jolyne is the type to do those things then it might be for a reason.

**A month later**

"And that is how you divide..." I turned around to look at the rest of the class, "Any questions?" A few students raised their hands, and I called out to them and answered their questions. I'm a third-grade teacher for room 203, "I'll be doing separate tutoring at the table in the back tomorrow if any of you are still having trouble with math. The bell is about to ring. Please make sure to pack all of your things away and take your math packet with you today so you can practice at home."

They all got up from their seats and grabbed their belongings from the cubbies, "Ah I almost forgot. Alright, class listen up." I clapped my hands to get their attention, "Remember today is Open house at 6 pm at the school. It's a chance for your parent to meet your new teacher. When you come to the school go through the main office and then come to my classroom. I can't wait to see you all later tonight." The bell finally rang, "Have a great rest of your day class! Those of you who are taking the bus can go and those that are getting picked up, stand in line in front of the door and wait for me."

I noticed one of my students Jolyne Cujoh looked upset as she stood in line she was in the back of the line. "Morgan start opening the door! Jolyne is something wrong?"

"I can't come to the open House today... my dad is busy working." She looked upset about not being able to go. I locked the door to the classroom. "It's okay if you're not able to come... Trust me nothing special ever happens at an open house." I chuckled, "I know but... you're one of the best teachers I've had so far and I want to be there today."

"Okay... well, do you have any other realities that can take you?... What about your mom or grandparents?" I looked at Jolyne who was looking down at the ground as we walked to the car pick area. She went quiet, did I ask the wrong question? "My grandparents live in Japan and New York, plus... my mom and dad aren't together anymore." Shit, what do I say now? "I'm sorry to hear that Jolyne... Well, maybe Annie's parents can take you tonight. You two live near each other so maybe you could go together." Jolyne lit up at the idea I gave her.

"I'll go ask her parents! Thank you Ms. L/N." She waved goodbye and entered the car with Annie I waved back to them and made my way to my car.

I forgot the other teachers had spoken about Jolyne's parents being separated due to the father working so much that he doesn't have time for them. But instead of taking Jolyne with her, she left Jolyne with her father, and he doesn't have time a lot of time to spend with her. I feel bad for her she probably spends most of her time alone at home or at a friend's house. Poor Jolyne.

I went home changed my cloth and got ready for the meeting. As I arrived at the school I saw someone sitting in front of the classroom door, "Jolyne, what are you doing here? Where's your father?" She was sitting alone, "He couldn't come he got stuck at work."

"Did Annie's parents take you here?" Please tell me they did! "No... I came here by myself." I blinked a few times trying to understand the situation at hand, on the inside I was screaming and panicking. A child walked alone to school and probably no one knows where she is... great... and its raining to it off... just what I needed to start the open house, "Okay, Jolyne I want you to stay by my side for the night. If anyone offers to take you home you tell them no, okay?" She nodded, "Good, let's go inside the others should be coming soon."

As the other students and parents entered the room I kept calling Mr. Cujoh's number, but no answer. I'll have to leave a voice mail since it's already six pm and I need to start the meeting, "Hello Mr. Cujoh this is Y/N L/N I'm Jolyne's Third-grade teacher. It appears Jolyne had made her way to the school to open house. She is here with me in the classroom at the moment. When you can please call back at this number." I hung up taking a deep breath, hopefully, he gets back to me soon. "Welcome to today's open house, I'm Ms. L/n, it's nice to meet you all..."

After speaking and presenting myself to the parents, I made sure Jolyne stayed within eyesight she sat at her desk and was drawing while I talked to some parents and answered any of their questions. Some of the parents gave me their contact information and then left. Now it was just me and Jolyne in the class. "Jolyne, this is your father's phone number, correct?" I showed her the phone number, "Yeah, that's his number." I might have to drive her home if no one calls or comes within the next ten minutes. Luckily I live nearby so it's not much of a hassle.

I called his number again, "Hello Mr. Cujoh, It's Y/N L/N Jolyne's teacher again. The open house is over and I can't stay any longer in the school since the main office is closing soon. I'll be taking Jolyne home, hopefully, we can talk by then, See you soon." I was about to hang up when Jolyne took the phone from my hand, "Jolyne!" She started laughing, "I'm okay dad, Ms. L/n is really nice and she'll make sure I get home safely! Bye, dad! He's gonna be so mad when I get home!" I chuckled taking the phone from her and hanging up. "Alright, let's go to your house."

Pulling up to the driveway there was a car that was parked, that must be Mr. Cujoh's car. We both got out and walked to the front door. I held an umbrella covering us both. I felt something touch my hand, it was Jolyne she held onto my hand as footsteps can be heard from inside. The door swung up and a tall man stood in front wearing a white sleeveless turtleneck, his hair looked a bit messy, "What is it?" His voice sound upset and angry, he looked so intimidating that I didn't know what to say to him. Our eyes meet causing me to flinch and look at Jolyne, "Jolyne!" He bent down hugging Jolyne in his arm and then let go. "Where have you been?! Do you have any idea what time it is?!" He took a deep breath, "Go to your room, we'll talk later."

Jolyne waved goodbye as she walked in. Her father watched as she left us alone. "Thank you for bringing her here... Ms..."

"L/n, Y/n L/N. It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Cujoh I'm Jolyne's teacher. She came to the school's open house today." His eyes widen, "I'm so sorry about that... please come inside it's raining you could get sick." He moved to the side allowing me to enter, "Thank you." I walked into his house, he closed the door. Taking a look around there were quite a few pictures of Mr. Cujoh and marine animals. "I'll have to repay you for today. I'm so sorry for all of this." I could tell he felt embarrassed by this even though the tone of his voice says otherwise. "It's fine... It's actually the first time I've ever had a student do that. It's sweet seeing a student to support their teacher." I smiled to myself as I followed behind him.

"Still, I can't thank you enough. Jolyne... She's very special... to me." As we walked in there were a few pictures of him when he was younger with a group of friends and pictures with Jolyne. "Here," I was busy looking at the pictures in the house that I didn't notice we were in his office room. I looked down at his hands he had two twenty-dollar bills. "This is for gas money and as a thanks." I lightly pushed his hand away, he looked at me confused, "Don't worry about it Mr. Cujoh. I live near the area so it was no trouble at all." He put the money away.

"Well do you drink? I can take you out for drinks this weekend if you'd like." Is he asking me out?... No, he's just being nice. "I'm not much of a drinker... how about some coffee, I know this nice coffee place nearby. We can meet there on Saturday morning."

"Yeah, sure. I'll pay for your coffee then. Maybe you could tell about how Jolyne is doing in class." I smiled at him, "Yeah, defiantly." He cleared his throat, "It's getting late you should be heading home, I bet your partner is worried about you." I showed him my hands, "I'm not married... Divorced."

"Sorry, I didn-" I cut him off, "Don't worry about it. Anyway, let me give you my personal number. The number I was calling you with before is actually my work number." He gave me a pen and paper, and I began writing my number and name down. "Call me on Friday night so we can make plans for the time we'll meet."

"I'll call you Friday then." We walked over to the door, "Were you calling my phone before?" I was about to leave, "I did but you didn't answer." He sighed, "My phone ran out of battery, and star... Never mind. I'll see you on Saturday then." He opened the door for me, "Drive carefully and get home safely."

"Will do. Bye, Mr. Cujoh." We said our goodbye and I headed home. If today's event I just wanted to sleep it off.

Series Masterlist

#jjba x reader #jjba fanfic #jjba x you #jjba #jjba headcanons #jojos bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken #jojo x reader #jojo kimyou na bouken #jojo #joseph jojo #joestar family #jjba part4 #jjba part 4 #jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo #star platinum #jotaro x y/n #jotaro cujoh #jolyne cujoh #jojo part 6