#*ugly sobbing in the distance* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

dreaming-medium · 6 months

Text

Stray Kids Kinktober Day 7

Stray Kids Kinktober Masterlist

Virginity - Jeongin

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: Long distance friendships work most of the time. But what about when that friendship was supposed to be more? What about when the distance spans over several time zones instead of cities.

—————————————————————

He’ll always be the one that got away, that’s what you tell yourself.

But it’s not like he’s gone completely, no, Yang Jeongin is still in your life every single day. He’s just not physically present now.

The two of you went from spending every single waking moment together to then only seeing him when he’s able to come home during breaks in his idol schedule.

Which is basically never.

When he left Busan, he took your entire heart with you.

The night before he left for Seoul, you told yourself over and over again that you were going to confess to him. That you weren’t going to let him leave for stardom without knowing how you felt.

And if he didn’t feel the same, then the distance would help.

And if he did… then who knows what would happen.

But, when the moment came. And Jeongin was hugging you goodbye in his childhood bedroom, you froze.

“Jeongin, I need to tell you something,” you murmur into his chest during a tight hug.

His hand runs down the back of your hair, his nose digging into the top of your head to smell your coconut shampoo.

“What is it?”

Your heart was beating so fast, you thought it might explode. With the way your ear was pressed against his chest, you’re able to hear his heart thudding against his ribs as well.

He’s probably just nervous about leaving, that’s all.

Every thought flies from your head. Not a single word of your practiced speeches in the mirror come to mind.

He’s leaving. He’s leaving. He’s leaving.

“Y/N?” Jeongin tries to catch your attention by squeezing you tighter.

“Just…” you trail off, blinking the tears away from your eyes. Your throat constricts and gets tighter and tighter. “Just don’t forget about me when you’re famous, okay?”

Jeongin rocks you both from side to side, a thoughtful hum coming from his throat.

“I don’t think I could forget about you even if I tried, Y/N,” he whispers into your hair. “I’ll text you every chance I get, FaceTime and calls too. You know I will.”

The desperation in his voice causes the tears to finally fall down your cheeks. The other half of your soul was leaving.

Who was going to walk to school with you? Split another menu item with you so that you both could have two different things? Watch scary movies with you and launch popcorn everywhere?

“I know, Jeongin.” A hiccup shakes your chest. “You’re going to be famous before you know it. And you’ll have other famous people lining up to be your best friend.”

“Yeah, well, that spot is already taken.”

Jeongin pulls away from you slowly to look down at your tear-ridden face.

“No amount of distance will change that, okay? I’m serious.”

You bite your lip and look down at the floor with a pathetic nod.

Two fingers hook under your chin to bring your eyes back up to his. They’re glossy and brimming with his own unshed tears.

“Cross my heart,” he hushes and draws an ‘X’ over his chest with his free hand.

“Cross my heart,” you sob and mirror the action.

“Now, stop crying. You know you’re an ugly crier.”

“When are you leaving, again?”

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

It’s embarrassing to say, but you did have little faith in Jeongin to keep the promise.

But you’ll be damned. Because he did so to the best of his abilities.

No, you two were not attached at the hip anymore, sipping soda through the same straw. But you remained as close as ever.

Conversation never dulled over texts.

Sure, there would be periods of time where you would only hear from him once or twice a day. But that’s normal, especially with longer distance friends.

Also, with a schedule like his, it’s a miracle that you get to hear from him at all.

The first year was the hardest. When your birthday passed and he wasn’t physically in the room with you at midnight for the first time, it felt like a dagger to the heart.

Yes, he was on FaceTime with you, but it wasn’t the same; and you both knew it.

Life continued. It didn’t stop in his bedroom like you thought it would.

The ache faded. You adapted. He adapted. But your friendship remained constant.

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

“America?” Jeongin asks bewildered on the phone.

“It’s a full ride, Jeongin! I’d be stupid not to accept it.”

You’re laying on your bed, painting your nails with the phone in between your shoulder and your ear.

“I mean, yeah, but like… didn’t you also apply to the University of Seoul?”

“I did, but they’re not offering me a full ride. You know my family’s financial situation, I have to go where the money is.”

“But… but what about plane tickets and such? Wouldn’t the cost just balance out?” he stutters. His tone sounds strained and choked.

You almost wish you were on FaceTime right now so you could see his expression. He was never good at hiding secrets from you, you can read him like a book.

“Not really… I’d probably just… live there for four years and come back when I’m done,” you mumble and then blow on your wet nails. “Jeongin, I really wasn’t expecting this type of reaction…”

The sadness of your voice can’t be helped.

Jeongin had no idea you applied for the photography program at the California Institute of Arts. It was on a whim that you sent your application in.

He makes a choked noise on the other end of the phone. “I-I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m happy for you, I really am! I’m over the moon excited! California! That’s-“ he clears his throat. “That’s incredible.”

He’s crying. Yang Jeongin is crying right now.

You sit in silence for a moment and stare blankly at the wall in front of you. With each word that comes through the phone you can feel your heart breaking.

“I can’t believe it!” He continues with his fake happiness. “California! Woo… just- just like in those movies we used to watch to-together!”

Clenching your jaw to stop your own tears, you pull the phone away from your face and tap the FaceTime button.

The line rings a few times before you hear Jeongin gasp and stutter even more.

“I have to go, Y/N. Chan is calling me to do something!”

“I didn’t hear—“

“Bye, Y/N!”

The line beeps three times to signal he hung up. Your phone displays the failed FaceTime call.

Numbness floats through your chest for a moment before something harshly tugs on your soul.

He was expecting you to come to Seoul. To come closer to him, wasn’t he?

You drop your phone onto your bed and continue to sit there, staring into space.

Yes, you wanted to go to Seoul with him, you desperately wanted to do that.

But, you need to think in the long run here! Four years longer away from him in exchange for a lifetime free of debt.

It’s only four years, max.

Tears prickle your eyes and you grit your teeth to try and stop them.

Shit, Jeongin. Come on.

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

You went to America. You made the hard choice, but the right one. And you know it, too.

Jeongin knew it too. Hidden underneath all of the grief of you moving even further from him, he was endlessly proud and happy for you.

But now, instead of a two hour train ride, you were an eleven hour plane ride away. Your day was sixteen hours behind his.

Now, if he texted you and asked what you had for dinner, you would tell him about last nights’ meal or what you were thinking for later.

There were only about two hours a day where you were able to talk at the same time and it was killing him slowly.

When your classes for the day were ending, he was waking up for the next day. When you were getting ready for bed, he was finishing lunch.

If he wanted to FaceTime you at the end of his day, it was the middle of your work day.

You were losing each other.

He was able to do two different cities in the same country, but two continents was its own animal.

Jeongin would lay awake in bed at night, knowing you’re up and moving around. It would haunt him while he tossed and turned.

Because in his mind, you’re also the one that got away. You were the only reason he almost didn’t audition to become a trainee.

But, your entire life, you talked about attending the University of Seoul for college. So, he bargained with himself and became a trainee because eventually the two of you would be together. Right?

No.

Now, you’re in America. You’ve been in America for two entire years.

Making new friends, meeting new people, experiencing everything without him.

The knife twisted in his gut when he started noticing the same name floating around your conversations when you spoke about friends.

Ryan.

It was always ‘Ryan said this’, ‘Ryan did that’, ‘Ryan showed me this’. Jeongin wanted to scream and pull his hair out.

It was only a matter of time until he got the phone call he was dreading.

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

Jeongin had just sat down in the living room of the shared dorm when his phone rang. His seven other members were flitting in and out of the room.

They all knew you very well. Jeongin talks about you so much they would swear you were everyone’s childhood best friend.

The few times you were able to visit him in person before leaving for America, everyone always got along famously.

He answered your FaceTime call immediately.

“Hey!” you say as soon as you see his face. “Are you busy right now?”

“No, not at all. We don’t have anything until later today. What time is it?” Jeongin looks at the clock. “It’s almost 9 PM by you, what are you getting ready for?”

You placed your phone down on your desk. “Well, ah— that’s actually why I’m calling you, I need your advice.”

Felix and Seungmin both walked into the living room, talking quietly and sat down on the couch opposite him.

“What’s up? Are you okay?” Jeongin asks.

Both the other boys perk at his tone and look over.

“I’m um… going on a date tonight. Ryan had asked me out with him tonight. So I wanted your advice on what to wear, since you’re a fashion God.”

The floor beneath him crumbled. His heart fell through the sofa and into the Earth. Even his fingertips go numb.

A date? You were going on a date? With Ryan? You were going on a date with Ryan.

You were going on a date. With Ryan.

“Jeongin?” You ask again when he doesn’t answer for a few moments. His eyes are completely unfocused and spaced out.

He snaps out of it and clears his throat. “What um— What did you have in mind? It’s getting chilly out, right? Maybe wear a sweater? What about that cable knit one I got you?”

“Jeongin it’s LA! It’s always 70 degrees here.”

“But the restaurant might be cold.”

“I’ll bring a jacket then.” You laugh at him, unaware at the absolute anguish he was feeling. “I was thinking something like… you know that black skirt? That with this new tube top I got aaaand my knee high boots.”

“No.” He answers quickly, your face falls. “Why don’t you do the top with jeans?”

“It’s a nice place.”

“M-Maybe a dress then.”

“Jeongin.”

Seungmin And Felix were watching everything unfold in front of their eyes. It was like a car crash, they couldn’t look away.

Jeongin kept going, “I really liked that long sleeved red one you wore for Christmas last year.”

“Jeongin..”

“And if that doesn’t work I just think the sweater is the best option here.”

You stay silent, letting Jeongin finish his ramblings.

There’s a solid fifteen seconds of silence between the two of you before you spoke up on the other line. “Are any of the other boys in the room with you?”

Jeongin immediately looks over at Felix and Seungmin. “Yeah, Min and Lix are here.”

You nod a few times, refusing to look at the camera.

“I gotta go, Jeongin. I’ll text you later, okay?”

“Y/N.”

“Bye. I’ll text you when I get home safe.”

“Y/N, wait!”

Three beeps signal the end of the phone call.

He sits there for a long moment, just holding his phone in his hand before he drops it onto the coffee table.

His heart is shattering into a million pieces.

Jeongin buries his face in his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

Both of the other boys sit there, unsure of what to do next. They glance at each other and then back to Jeongin, who hasn’t moved.

“Jeongin…” Felix calls out gently.

The boy lifts his face up from his hands and looks over at his friends. “What am I supposed to do? A date. She’s going on a date. And I’m on the other side of the world.”

His throat bobs with a gulp and he pulls at his pants anxiously.

“Jeongin.” Seungmin tries to grab his attention. “I think she was just looking for support.”

He’s right. He’s completely right, but Jeongin is so blinded with jealousy he can’t think straight.

“I’ve loved her since we were thirteen and she’s going on a date with someone else.”

“You don’t even know if it will last.” Seungmin tries to comfort him.

“They’re already super close, she talks about him all the time, it’s always ‘Ryan, Ryan, Ryan’. He’s her new best friend, not me. She was supposed to come here, to Seoul, not go to America. And we were going to.. we were going to–” He chokes up and can’t get it out.

Jeongin abruptly stands up from the couch and snatches his phone off the table.

“I’m going for a walk.”

And with that, he was gone.

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

He won’t answer any of your texts or calls.

It’s been two weeks since your date with Ryan and you still haven’t heard from Jeongin.

It feels like a giant punch in the gut.

All you want to do is talk to him but he’s nowhere to be seen. He hasn’t even sent you a text to say he’s busy or when he can finally talk again.

Just radio silence.

You thought about texting one of the other members to try and get through to him, but it feels so high school that you decide not to.

All you want to do is talk to your best friend.

But he doesn’t want to talk to you, it seems.

It has to be because of the date. There’s no other explanation behind it. Everything was fine until you told him you were going on a date.

You’ve been here for two years now! Did he expect you to stay single forever?

Just because he has a dating ban, doesn’t mean you do too.

The more you think about it, the angrier you get. The smoldering ashes of your rage don’t dim. Not one bit, they just simmer and flicker on.

It all bubbles and reaches a boiling point one Friday where you’ve had entirely too much to drink.

Your friends dragged you out to a frat party where you drank yourself stupid. Nothing eventful happened at the party, but when you stumbled into your apartment and you were left alone with your phone, it all hit a head.

[March 3 11:48 PM]

Y/N: I’m home safe.

[March 4 4:22 PM]

Y/N: How’d your day go?

[March 5 7:31 AM]

Y/N: Jeongin please talk to me. I have so much to tell you

[2:01 PM]

Y/N: I saw a cute lil baby Fox on my way to class this morning, made me think of you :)

[March 13 6:12 PM]

Y/N: You’re just going to keep ignoring me, huh?

[March 19 3:58 AM]

Y/N: YanG Jeongin.

Y/N: you can’t fucking ignore me forever

Y/N: or maybe you can.

Y/N: is that what you want???? Me to be gone????? All these fucking years of friendship down the drain????

Y/N: well fuck you too, I guess

[4:02 AM]

Y/N: I got hired for your stupid fucjing group’s world tour. For when you come to America

Y/N: I fucking begged my professor to give me the gig for a project. It’s an internship. Was gunna see you next week and everythinfg

Y/N: surprise, asshoke

Y/N: and now you won’t fucking talk to me. Do you realize how petty you’re being? How childish? Over what? A guy?????? I cant fucking back out now, my professor would kill me.

[4:09 AM]

Y/N: the whole tour I was gunna spend with you

Y/N: fuck you, Yang Jeongin.

Y/N: and your stupid fucking childishness.

Y/N: why cant you just be fucking happy for me for once.

Y/N: it took me so long to get over you. Why do you keep doing this to me?

[4:14 AM]

Y/N: Was I supposed to wait forever?

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

Jeongin stepped out of the shower and looked at his phone.

Fifteen unread messages from you. It’s 4 AM in America, why are you awake right now?

He was so embarrassed over the way he acted two weeks ago that he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you.

But my god, he only made it worse.

Jeongin goes through every single emotion while reading your texts. You were going to be one of their photographers for the Manic tour?

You were going to travel with them?

His thumbs quickly tap his phone and as he’s about to click the phone call button, he freezes in his tracks.

‘It took me so long to get over you. Why do you keep doing this to me?’

‘Was I supposed to wait forever?’

His entire face drops, the excited palpitations of his heart turn sour and what feels like a knife is stabbed through his chest.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He stares down at his phone for what feels like an hour before he hurries out of the bathroom and right into Chan’s room.

Chan looks over at his member with a startled expression.

“Jeongin? Everything alright?”

“No, no everything is not alright.” He thrusts his phone into Chan’s hand. “What do I do? What should I say?”

Chan looks down at the phone with wide eyes, he quickly scans over the text. His face seems to go through all the stages of grief that Jeongin’s did, just a bit more watered down.

“You have to call and apologize, Jeongin. She’s definitely a bit drunk right now, but you need to call her.”

Jeongin gulps and his hands clench and unclench several times before he takes his phone back from Chan.

“Can I sit in here while I do it?”

“Yeah, of course.”

He sits down on the edge of Chan’s bed, staring down at his phone like a deer in headlights.

Chan just stares at him, not knowing what to do.

“What do I even say, Chan?”

“How about you start with ‘I’m sorry I was a dick and ignored you’?”

Jeongin groaned and curled in a bit, his jaw clenching with anxiety.

His thumbs move around the screen, but they don’t tap the call icon.

Chan watches. “It’s in the top right.”

“I know!”

“Well you weren’t doing anything.”

“Agh!”

Before he could second guess himself, he tapped the call icon and held the phone up to his ear.

It rings … and rings… And rings…

It doesn’t even go to voicemail. Jeongin’s heart drops through Chan’s bed.

He brings his phone away from his ear and checks that it’s your number he dialed.

It is.

He hangs up and immediately tries again.

It rings … and rings… And rings…

Chan’s eyes follow him closely. His face falls when he figures out what’s going on.

“Jeongin…” he whispers and wheels his chair closer to him on the edge of the bed.

Jeongin doesn’t listen. He hangs up and tries again with shaking fingers.

“I’m sure it’s just a bad connection, right?”

It rings … and rings... And rings…

He hangs up again with a cry.

When he looks down at your conversation he sees another notification.

[8:15 PM]

[Y/N has stopped sharing their location with you.]

You blocked him. You really blocked him.

“She’s drunk, Jeongin. Give it until the morning, yeah?”

Jeongin stares at his phone for a long moment. “Yeah.”

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

The next morning was filled with embarrassment and shame on your side.

When you rolled over with a groggy mind and upset stomach, the first thing you did was check your phone.

You were still in your dress from last night, your makeup was now smeared all over your face and onto your pillowcase.

A few texts from friends, a couple from Ryan, Instagram notifications, Snapchat, nothing from Jeongin.

Your face pulled into an ugly sneer for a moment before it quickly morphed into horror when you tapped on your conversation.

“Oh my god.”

You sat up quickly in bed, and almost immediately regretted it with how your stomach lurched and head spun.

Rereading all the texts, you wanted to slam your hungover ridden head over and over again into the wall.

You stopped sharing your location with him? Why would you…?

Oh, shit. You blocked him, didn't you?

Your hand runs through your matted hair nervously and you stare down at your phone.

“You dramatic bitch!” You curse yourself and gnaw at your lip.

What do you do? What do you do?

Obviously, you tap around to his contact and unblock his number.

The texts immediately flood in.

[March 19 4:25 AM]

Jeongin: Y/N, im so sorry

Jeongin: please answer

Jeongin: Y/N please unblock me

[4:31 AM]

Jeongin: I don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry. I didn’t know how to go about apologizing

Jeongin: you’re halfway across the world right now, Y/N, please.

Jeongin: why can’t you just be a two hour train ride to Busan anymore.

[4:38 AM]

Jeongin: I miss my best friend, please

Jeongin: I’m so endlessly proud of you. I brag about you every single day.

Jeongin: that picture you took of the Seoul skyline is still my background. The one with our hands.

Jeongin: I like that it makes me think of you each time i open my phone

[4:44 AM]

Jeongin: i knew you couldn’t wait forever, that’s why it hurts so bad, Y/N

Jeongin: why did I choose this path? It hurts so bad, Y/N

Jeongin: i care about you so deeply

Jeongin: you’re the only one for me

Jeongin: when you left for LA, you took every part of me with you.

[4:57 AM]

Jeongin: im so proud of you, Y/N. I guess I’ll just see you starting next week for the tour.

Jeongin: i’ll wait for you

Jeongin: cross my heart

“Fuck,” you whisper, your voice cracking. Tears welling up in your eyes.

Is he serious?

What are you supposed to do right now?

A text from Ryan comes in as you’re staring at your phone.

[12:41 PM]

Ryan: did you still want to come over tonight?

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

A week passed.

Another entire week without talking to Jeongin.

It was like color was slowly draining from your world.

You know you should reach out to him, but shame and embarrassment kept blocking your path to your best friend again.

But now, you had no choice.

You stood in front of a large office building, your bag slung over your shoulder, heart in your throat.

Once you stepped inside this building, it would be the first time in over two years that you and Jeongin were inside the same walls.

If you had pictured this moment just a month ago, you would’ve been kicking open these doors and sprinting through the halls until you finally laid eyes on him again.

But now, you find that it feels like your feet have melted into the concrete sidewalk.

Looking down at your watch, you see that you still have another thirty minutes before you have to be in the meeting. And your mouth is painfully dry.

A bell dings to your right and you see a coffee shop.

Perfect.

You quickly turn and walk into the shop, the same bell dinging to announce your arrival.

The barista welcomes you in, takes your order, and tells you your total.

As you’re fumbling for your wallet, an arm reaches out from behind you and swipes their card to pay for your coffee.

“Oh, thank you! You didn’t have to—“ you turn and your breath catches.

None other than Bang Chan stood behind you with that charmingly bright smile.

“Hi Y/N,” he beams.

“Chan!” you squeal and wrap your arms around him. You completely forgot everything for a moment, especially when he envelopes you in his strong arms. “What a nice surprise!”

“Hi, Y/N,” he says into your hair.

A throat clears behind you so you jump apart to apologize to the barista. She just laughs and takes Chan’s order.

The two of you stand off to the side to wait for your drinks.

“How was the flight in?” you ask, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“I’ll be honest, I slept through the whole thing, so I’m not sure.”

“It’s probably the only sleep you’ve gotten this week, hm?”

Chan laughs and rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t deny it.

The barista calls out a name.

Chan shifts from foot to foot. “I know what happened.”

You tense up and look down at your feet.

“How much does he hate me?”

If you’re being honest, you really don’t want to hear the answer.

Chan scoffs, “Hate you? He doesn’t hate you. He’s just hurt, Y/N. The same way you are. You both hurt one another.”

Looking off to the side, you cross your arms. “Yeah, well. He started it.”

“Don’t be childish.” He nudges you playfully with his elbow. “Distance is hard for close relationships. It was a miracle that you two went this long without a fight.”

You nod your head and bite your lip.

“I miss him so much.”

“He’s just across the street, you know.”

You laugh which causes Chan to laugh.

The barista calls out your name and then says Chan’s right after.

“Come on, Y/N,” he loops his arm through yours and you both walk out of the coffee shop and into the office building.

You sip your coffee nervously, the taste is barely hitting your tastebuds with how preoccupied your mind is.

The elevator ride up to the appropriate floor is simultaneously the longest and shortest ride of your life.

What’s the worst that can happen, Y/N? He punches you in the face? Pushes you down the stairs? Maybe grab your coffee out of your hand and dump it over your head?

As if he ever would.

The doors open and you both step out of the elevator.

Loud voices carry down the hall and you giggle.

“It’s been so long since I’ve heard you guys in person and not over a phone.”

“It’s louder in person.” Chan sighs and leads you down the hall.

Each step is a death march of sorts.

The conference room door swings open before Chan could grab the handle.

Your heart rate spiked and then flatlined.

Jeongin stood there with wide eyes and parted lips. He stared at you with every single emotion known to man.

“Hi Jeongin,” you whisper, holding your coffee tighter.

He says nothing.

Jeongin steps out of the doorway and wraps you up tightly in his arms. One hand on the back of your head, the other on your waist.

A surprised noise leaves your lips and your eyes widen.

The coffee cup is taken from your hand by Chan who slinks into the conference room, the door closing softly behind him.

Without a second thought, you return the hug.

When your arms wrap around him too, a sigh of relief leaves Jeongin’s mouth and his shoulders slump inwards even more.

He didn’t expect you to hold him. He didn’t expect you to even want to see him.

Your arms tighten around his body and it feels like ice thawing from his heart.

Jeongin’s throat tightens and he buries his face into your hair, inhaling deeply.

He hasn’t held you in so long. He’s missed your touch so badly.

Jeongin, who hates skinship, couldn’t wait to have you touch him.

Your hand begins to rub circles on his back and he melts into you like a puddle.

“I’m so sorry, Jeongin,” you whisper.

The dams of his heart begin to crack and break. Every pent up emotion he’s felt for the previous three weeks bubbles to the surface. He stifles a sob and holds you tighter.

“No, please, I’m sorry, Y/N.” His chest sputters with a cry.

You pull back from him and look up at him with red, glassy eyes. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?” you push out a laugh in between tiny cries.

You’re trying with all your might not to let the tears fall down your cheeks.

Jeongin isn’t doing much better. His eyes are red and you can see the tears brimming in them.

Three weeks, you haven’t talked. It was the longest span of time the two of you went without speaking ever.

You reach up and cup both of his cheeks. Jeongin’s eyes close and he leans into your touch.

“I missed you so much, Jeongin.”

He winces at your words and his lips pull into an even deeper frown,

Jeongin brings his hand up to cup yours against his face. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.” he repeats.

You step closer to him and press your lips to his cheek. Jeongin gasps under his breath and stiffens underneath you. The skin underneath your lips heats up.

“I forgive you, Jeongin.” You smile and back away from him. He watches you closely with wide eyes. “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me, you know?”

He smiles sheepishly and nods. “I forgive you too, you know.”

The elevator pings behind you and your new boss walks out with another important looking man.

He smiles kindly at you. “Let us get this meeting started, no?”

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

The first concert went off without a hitch.

Because of your position, you’re traveling with the entire crew and the members. Sleeping in the same hotels, going to the same restaurants, using the same transportation.

Sometimes you feel like a ninth member.

The boys all stood on stage with their hands interlocked to take their first final bow of the tour. You smile behind the camera and make sure to get all of them in the shot.

Jeongin spots you from the stage and smiles directly at you in the media pit. Your smile pulls even brighter and you focus the camera on him for some solo shots.

He winks once before turning to wave goodbye to some Stays in the floor seats.

Your heart flutters, it’s the happiest you’ve been in weeks. Hell, maybe even months.

All of the members exit the stage soon after and you walk with your security escort backstage.

You’re able to hear them before you see them. They’re as loud as ever, yapping about how well everything went, how happy they were to see so many Stays, how they can’t wait for the next show.

When you turn the corner to the dressing room with a bright smile on your face, they all turn and look at you.

“Congrats, guys!” you cheer and clap for them.

They all beam and say thank you.

Jeongin crosses the room to stand by you. He still has his beanie on.

“What did you think?” he asks happily.

“I loved it! I think I took close to two thousand pictures. Maybe more. I’ll have to go through them on my laptop later.”

“That can wait!” Minho calls from the back of the dressing room. “We’re celebrating tonight!”

“Celebrating how, Mr. Lee?” you tease and hear his signature giggle.

“With booze and games back at the hotel.” Jisung answers for him.

“Oooh,” your mood brightens. “I’m always up for that. You’re right, pictures can wait.”

“Great, then it’s settled.” Jisung claps his hands together once. “One hour, we all meet in my room.”

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

They were not joking around with the amount of booze on his hotel counter. You would swear you were at another frat party.

In your cup, you were nursing your third rum and coke of the night. You made the mistake of asking Changbin to make this one. After the first sip you knew this one was going to have to be taken slow.

Everyone was sitting in various seats in the room, some on the bed, some on chairs or the floor. The TV was playing a movie that no one was paying attention to.

“Okay, Felix, truth or dare.” Hyunjin asks.

“Truth– no, dare– no, truth.”

“Final answer?”

“Truth.”

“Who was the last person you stalked on social media?” Hyunjin asks, taking a sip of his drink.

“Ah,” Felix thinks for a moment with pink cheeks. “Oh! An old friend from Australia.”

“Just a friend?” Minho jokes.

“Yes, yes, just a friend.” Felix laughs, waving him off. “Y/N, truth or dare?”

You perk up from your seat on the couch. Jeongin sat on your left, his entire side flush with yours.

“Um, truth, I don’t feel like getting up.”

“What’s your body count since you went to America?”

Your eyebrows raise and you cock your head to the side.

Jeongin stiffens up noticeably next to you, he practically jokes on the drink that he was taking a sip of. “Felix, you can’t just–”

“Two.” you answer quickly and take a large swig of your drink.

Jeongin’s head whips around to look at you as if you just shot everyone in the room. You stare back at him with a confused face.

“What?” you ask, getting defensive. Embarrassment crawls up your neck. “I know it’s not a lot, but I’ve been focused on class and everything, you know?”

“No, I just– I didn’t think that–” Jeongin stutters and looks everywhere but at you. “I didn’t know and you–”

“Tell you everything? I didn’t think you wanted to hear about it.”

“Was it Ryan?” he blurts without thinking.

Your face pulls into a shocked, angry expression. “Excuse me?”

“Was one of them Ryan?” he presses further. The alcohol gave him loose lips.

“Why would–”

Chan interrupts the two of you, “Anyway! Your turn Y/N.”

You stare at Jeongin for another couple of moments before looking away at the group of men. You shake your head in disbelief before taking a deep breath.

“Seungmin, truth or dare?”

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

“You know you didn’t have to walk me back to my hotel room, it’s only one floor up.”

Jeongin insisted on walking you back up to your room when everyone started turning in for bed. The hotel hallway was eerily quiet compared to the noise filled room that the two of you just left.

“You never know what could happen in a hotel hallway.” He reaches up and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

The two of you take the stairs up to your floor and walk in silence until you reach your room.

“Oh, wait. There was a picture I took tonight that I want you to see! Really quick, come on!” You quickly unlock your door and drag him into your room.

Jeongin stumbles in and looks around. Your room is spotless, just a few clothes strewn about.

You walk over to your camera sitting on the desk and pick it up, looking through the pictures for the one you wanted to show him.

He watches you closely, your face is only illuminated by the small screen display. Your tongue is sticking out between your lips in concentration.

Two? You slept with two people since you’ve been in America? Jealousy began churning deep within his gut and coursing through his veins.

He’s been so busy with being a trainee, then debuting, then training and rehearsing and recording that he hasn’t… he hasn’t been able to be with anyone. Nor has he wanted to. Because none of the people he could have were you.

Jeongin was so hopelessly devoted to you.

Your phone dings on your desk and you look over at it, an angry sneer twitches at your lips and you roll your eyes and then look back at your camera.

“What was that?” Jeongin asked, stepping closer towards you.

You look at Jeongin, then at your phone, then to your camera. “Nothing, you don’t need to worry about it.”

Jeongin lifts a brow curiously. You look back up at him and roll your eyes.

“It’s Ryan.”

Oh, Jeongin saw red for a moment. But, he kept it to himself to the best of his abilities.

“How’s that going, by the way?” Jeongin asks. He really does not want to know the answer. But, morbid curiosity got the better of him.

You hesitate, your finger stops moving on the camera to scroll through the album.

“It didn’t work out.” you tell him without looking up.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

You bite your lip and look up at him. “Are you? Are you really, Jeongin?”

Jeongin is taken aback by your small outburst. “Y/N, I–”

“Because you seem to be super invested in him, Jeongin.” you lower the camera, staring Jeongin in the eye. “Every time I bring him up, your eye twitches. You can’t fool me, I know you too well. I know you hate the guy.”

“I don’t hate him.”

“Then what if I did fuck him?”

Jeongin scoffs and looks away angrily, he crosses his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t care.”

Oh, he cares so much. His skin is fucking crawling.

“Look at me, Jeongin.”

His jaw clenches and he hesitates.

You put your camera back on the table and cross the final few steps until you reach him. You reach out and grab his chin between your thumb and pointer finger, forcing him to look at you.

Jeongin’s eyes widen and he stares at you.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t care.”

His face twists in anguish. He stares deeply into your eyes, flickering back and forth between them. His mouth screws up in a frown, eyebrows pulling together.

He gulps.

“Say it.” you push. “Say you don’t care if Ryan fucked me.”

“I…” he opens his mouth and promptly shuts it. He swallows again. “I can’t.”

“Why?” you hush.

The grip on his chin tightens even more when he tries to look away from you.

Alcohol thrums through both of your bodies to create a pleasant buzz and lift your confidence levels with one another.

“Why, Jeongin?”

“Because!” he cries out. His arms uncross and he grabs both of your shoulders tightly. “Because maybe I want to be the one fucking you! Is that what you wanted to hear?”

You’re taken aback for a moment. Truly, you didn’t expect him to be so crass.

“Because maybe I would lie awake in bed at night thinking about being your one and only.” Jeongin steps towards you and you back up until your knees hit the edge of the bed. “Because you drive me fucking crazy and I want you all to myself. Because I can’t stop thinking about fucking you into my mattress every single night!”

Your hand drops from his face but he snatches it up in his own larger one.

“Do you understand how bad I want you?” he whispers harshly. His nose is scrunched up and he’s talking through gritted teeth. “I’ve wanted you so badly for so many years. I can’t even look at anyone else because you exist. I’ve only ever had eyes for you. No one else exists, no one else makes me feel like you do.”

“How do I make you feel?”

Jeongin stares at you for a moment before he brings your hand down to press at the crotch of his pants.

Through his sweats you can feel just how hard he is. Both of you whimper at the touch.

“I want you so bad, it hurts.” Jeongin begs. “I don’t want anyone else. I want you. I want you to be my first. I can’t be your first, let me be your last.”

Your heart is hammering against your ribs.

Is this really happening?

“Please, Y/N,” Jeongin whimpers. “I’m begging you.”

He’s begging you to take his virginity right now? Right now?

“Now?” you ask, bewildered.

His dick twitches in your hand and he closes his eyes in what looks like pain, but you both know it’s pleasure.

“Please.”

The tension in the room snaps.

“Jeongin.” you grab his attention.

His eyes snap open and look at you.

“Kiss me.”

He gasps, cock jumping in your palm again before he smashes his lips against yours with a grunt.

He’s absolutely devouring your mouth with his. It’s wet and sloppy and completely inexperienced. But what he lacks in experience, he makes up for in enthusiasm.

Moans are slipping from his lips left and right as your tongues intertwine together.

Your hand slides from his dick up his body to tangle in his hair. Your other reaches up and you grab one of his from your shoulder to place it on your waist. He paws at your shirt with his long fingers.

You nip gently at his bottom lip and he moans.

“Am I dreaming?” he whispers against your mouth.

You reach around and pinch his side. He yelps and jumps a bit.

“No, not dreaming.”

He swoops down and locks your lips once more. Your fingers massage his scalp and comb through his hair.

You part from his lips for a second to yank your shirt off. Jeongin watches you with hungry eyes, he’s trying so hard to maintain eye contact with you, but he keeps glancing down at your chest.

“Yours too.” You point at his shirt.

It looks like he practically ripped the thing off. It flies off the top of his head and onto the floor. His bare arms come around your exposed waist, his lips searching for yours.

He’s frantic in his movements, like if he isn’t kissing you, he might die.

You grab his hands and bring them up to your bra clasp.

“I don’t–”

“Learn.” you hush against his lips and suck on his bottom lip. He moans and his fingers grasp at the clasp clumsily.

He’s so focused on trying to unclasp your bra that you take the opportunity to kiss his jawline with an open mouth. Your teeth nip at his sharp jawline and he gasps.

Down his neck you trail your hot, wet kisses.

With each passing moment, you can feel his desperation growing and growing. A frustrated whine comes from his chest when he can’t get it.

You bite his collarbone harshly and his knees buckle slightly, but he keeps himself up.

“Y/N!” he cries out, pulling so hard at your bra you think it might snap in half.

You giggle and have mercy on him. You reach behind yourself and unhook your bra in one movement.

It drops to the floor and this time, Jeongin has no reservations about staring at your naked chest. His lips part and his own chest starts heaving with pants.

Another laugh comes from you.

His eyes flicker up to yours for a split second.

“Are you going to touch me or just stare?” you tease him with a sultry smirk.

Both of his hands come up and cup both of your breasts in greedy handfuls. You moan at the sensation and wrap an arm around his neck, bringing your lips back to his.

Jeongin fondles your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples gently. Your back arches into his touch.

“Do it again,” you breathe out. He immediately follows your command, pinching and rubbing at the sensitive buds. Every single one of your noises is swallowed by his wet, swollen lips.

His kisses leave your lips and travel down your neck. They’re too gentle and innocent for your liking.

“Fuck, bite me, Jeongin.” you beg.

Without any hesitation, his teeth sink into where your neck meets your shoulder. You cry out and roll your hips into his.

The hands on your tits stutter in their movements before speeding up, the lust consuming his brain.

He bites again and again just to feel your hips move against his, to hear your moans right next to his ear.

The tent in his gray sweats seems painful at this point. He continues to rut against your body for any sort of relief.

Threading your fingers through his hair, you pull his mouth off your neck. HIs lips break their suction seal with a pop and he looks into your eyes.

He already looks so fucked out it sends a bolt through you.

“Let me make you feel good,” you whisper against his lips.

If it’s his first time, you want it to be memorable.

He doesn’t put up a fight at all. His mind is completely gone, he just nods over and over again. You could tell him ‘jump’ and he’d say ‘how high?’.

Your hands slide down his sculpted chest, mapping out each of the muscles. Jeongin keens under your touch, closing his eyes and sighing in pleasure.

When your hands get to the top of his pants, you quickly slide them down, taking his boxers with them.

Gray sweats pool around his ankles and his long, hard cock bobs as its set free from its fabric confines.

Jeongin hisses when the cold hotel air hits him.

You lean up on your tiptoes and capture his lip between your teeth for a moment at the same time you grab his dick gently.

The whine he lets out is sinful.

He’s been dreaming of your touch for so many years, and now that your hand is finally wrapped around him, he can’t believe it.

You release his lip and it snaps back into place.

Slowly, you slide your hand up and down his cock. So much precum is weeping from the head of his cock. Every movement pulls a noise from Jeongin.

“Sit on the edge of the bed, Jeongin.”

He gulps and obeys your order, his cock standing proud between his parted legs.

Jeongin watches you closely as you sink down to the ground onto your knees. He fists the sheets on either side of his body with white knuckles.

He has to be dreaming. This has to be one of his wet dreams where he wakes up with ruined pants and sheets.

Settling between his thighs, you run your hands up his legs. Jeongin watches your movements with a fucked out expression. The way your fingers glide over his skin raises goosebumps.

One of your hands comes out and grabs his cock with a gentle, yet firm, grip. His eyes snap shut and he can’t stifle the moan that punches from his chest.

His cock is so slippery from his own precum that your hand glides over the skin easily.

You pump him up and down for a bit, alternating your grip from firm to gentle, changing the tempo from fast to slow.

His hips won't stay still on the bed, he can’t keep still even if he wanted to. The pleasure from your hand is fucking killing him. It’s all consuming.

You smirk. “Jeongin, look at me.”

He cracks his hazy eyes open just to see you lean forward and lick a fat stripe up his entire cock.

Jeongin cries out and his head tilts back. His hips jump around and his legs feel like they go numb.

You open mouth kiss down the sides of his shaft.

The pleasure shoots up his spine, he can practically taste the electricity.

Just when he thinks it can’t get better, you wrap your entire mouth around him and sink down to take as much of his cock as you could without gagging.

His hand flies to your hair and grips tightly. The strands weaving through his lithe fingers.

Up and down, you bob on his shaft, making sure to let the saliva pour from your mouth and down over his balls.

Jeongin doesn’t even realize how hard he’s pulling your hair until you moan around him. He cries out at the vibrations and pulls even harder.

Your other hand wraps around whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

He’s on cloud nine, he can barely breathe. Every intake of breath takes his full concentration, you’re making him feel so fucking good.

No matter how many times he’s touched himself and imagined it was you, it could never compare to the real thing.

His eyes follow your head, watching his cock disappear into your mouth as you stare back at him with those sinfully innocent eyes.

You’re going to be the fucking death of him.

He’s only able to last for a few moments with your mouth on him before Jeongin is panting out.

“Y/N, you- you gotta, ha– You gotta stop or– or I’ll– fuuuuck– Im c-close and I– hng! But I wanna–! I wanna–! I wanna fu-huck you!”

You swirl your tongue around his head and pop off his cock, sit dribbling down the sides of your mouth.

“You wanna fuck me, Jeongin?” you ask him with a sweet tone. It fucking kills him.

“Yes,” he pants out, “It’s all I want.”

“You’re gonna let me pop your cherry?” you ask, looking up at him through your lashes. After you ask that, you lean over and bite his inner thigh.

Jeongin yelps and tightens the hand in your hair.

An embarrassed flush covers his neck and ears. “Please, Y/N.” he whimpers.

Smirking, you stand up from the floor and make quick work of your own sweatpants. Jeongin watches you like a starved man at a buffet. His tongue darts out of his lips and licks them when your panties drop to the ground.

“How do you want me, baby?” you ask him sweetly.

He tears his eyes away from your naked pussy to look up at you. He gulps.

“How do I…?”

“You want me on top? You want to fuck me from behind? You want to be on top? How do you want me, sweet Jeongin?” Your hand comes out and caresses his cheek. “How do you want our first time?”

His cock jumps at the thought of you in each of those positions.

But one sticks out.

“Need you underneath me,” he whispers, keeping eye contact while his hands come up to rest on your hips.

Your hand cards through his hair. It’s so fluffy.

“Whatever you want, Jeongin.”

Leaning down, you press your lips to his in a sweet kiss. It’s the tamest one you’ve shared tonight.

When you break apart, he chases after your lips, but you crawl onto the bed, laying down and making yourself comfortable on the pillows.

Jeongin follows your movements with innocent, fucked out eyes. He licks his lips again and his eyebrows pull together as he watches you.

You part your legs and run a finger through your sopping wet folds, making a show out of displaying yourself to him. He watches it like a hawk.

Slowly, you bring the finger up and stick it in your mouth, tasting your own juices.

“Come on, Jeongin. You said you were going to be my last.”

He turns and scrambles onto the bed, crawling over you and smashing your lips together desperately. Both of your legs wrap around his waist while he devours your mouth with his own.

His tongue is everywhere in your mouth, licking your own, invading and licking the roof of your mouth, coming out to lick your lips.

When you whimper, you feel his cock jump against your heat. Your hips roll onto his and his hips buck downwards into yours.

Both of you are moaning, panting messes when he pulls away.

“I don’t have a condom.” he says painfully.

“I’m on the pill.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jeongin, please fuck me already. I’ve waited my entire life for this.” you smile up at him with shiny eyes.

His eyes search yours with an equally sentimental look in them.

He nods once and lines himself up with your entrance. His head rubs along your folds a few times, making himself slick.

Your head tilts backwards into the pillows.

“No, please, look at me.” he begs breathlessly.

Immediately, your eyes snap open and you gaze into his.

Two heartbeats pass and he presses into you, his cock invading your soaking walls. The stretch feels so fucking good, you’re so horny for him.

Jeongin is the one that has the harder time keeping his eyes open, his pupils are blown out. His jaw drops in a strained moan, face screwing up almost painfully with how much pleasure is coursing through his veins.

His hips stutter a few times until he bottoms out.

“Holy fuck,” he whines. His hands clenched into fists next to your head.

“You feel so fucking good, Jeongin,” you praise him, your own voice is fucked out.

“I’m not going to last,” he cries and buries his face into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t worry about me,’ you coo.

His hips buck again and he whimpers into your skin.

“Jeongin,” you call to him and he lifts his head. His hair is so ruffled and messy, lips are swollen and wet, cheeks covered in a permanent blush. “Fuck me until you cum.”

His eyes roll back in his head and his hips pull out and slam right back into yours. Both of you cry out, your back arches.

Jeongin continues to fuck into you at a sloppy, harsh pace. His eyebrows furrow in concentration. He looks down at your tits bouncing with each thrust, his head dips down and he takes one of your nipples into his mouth.

“Jeongin!” you cry out and arch into him. He moans around your nipple, biting it gently and rolling it with your teeth.

His thrusts are getting frantic.

He pulls off your tit with a pop and comes up to your face.

“Need you to cum with me,” he murmurs before capturing your lips. “Need it, need it, fuck! I need it, Y/N!”

“Give me your hand.”

He balances his weight on one of his hands and holds out his other one. You guide him down to your folds and press his long, beautiful fingers against your clit.

“Mmmm…” you moan when you guide him to rub in circular motions.

He feels you clench around him and he whimpers into your open mouth.

“Just like that, Jeongin.” you rasp. “Keep that up and I’ll cum on your cock.”

“Jesus.”

He rubs faster in some moments, slower in the others. His mind is swimming in the clouds. Everything feels so fucking good.

Your whines get louder and louder, each one more higher pitched than the last.

“Close, close, close…” you breathe out against his lips. “Hah!”

Thank god. He’s been this close to blowing his load for the last four minutes, but he needed to feel you. He needed it.

“Yes, Jeongin! Yes!”

His thrusts get harder, his rubbing on your clit matches the timing.

You reach around his back and scratch your nails up his back.

“Come on, Y/N.” he whines. “Cum for me, Y/N. Need to feel you cum around me.”

Your pussy clenches down on him impossibly tight, your head is thrown backwards and your mouth stretches open in a silent scream.

It throws him over the edge, he spills into you with one of the most feral noises he’s ever made in his life. It tears from deep within his chest.

He cums forever, painting your insides white.

Jeongin buries his face in the crook of your neck as you both come back down to Earth. Your heavy breathing fans out over his back.

One of your hands starts rubbing up and down his naked skin. It’s warm and inviting and he wants to curl into it forever.

He eventually pulls his face away from your neck and looks down at you with stars in his eyes.

“Good?” you ask.

Jeongin laughs and leans down, pressing a kiss to your nose. “It was perfect.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”

#skz smut #stray kids kinktober #stray kids smut #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz kinktober #yang jeongin smut #jeongin x reader #stray kids fanfic #jeongin smut #yang jeongin x reader #i.n smut #i.n x reader #stray kids x y/n

1K notes · View notes

mrs-weasley-reid · 11 days

Text

Say Don't Go

Spencer Reid x bau!reader

Summary: Nothing hurts more than the fear of losing you.

Warning: Angst. mentions of death, blood, gunshot

A/N: I wrote this in haste, literally ten minutes ago, while listening to Say Don't Go (Taylor's Version) by mother Taylor Swift. It's definitely not perfect but I was definitely in the zone when I wrote it lol.

— ✿ — ✿— ✿ ✿ ✿

A gunshot.

Everything fades into a muffle. You blink once, twice, thrice... A wince connects your brows. As if you're figuring out if the oozing feeling on your abdomen should be causing you pain or ease.

Suddenly, Spencer's running to you. You think he's screaming. You hear nothing. There's only ringing in your ears. A thin, high-pitched ring that pierces through your brain.

You drop on the precinct's carpet floor, caressing your stomach like it's enough to stop yourself from bleeding out. You look at Spencer, "When'd you get here?" You ask, disoriented. You instantly pay attention to his watery eyes. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?" You reach to cup his cheek. You are shocked when you see your hand covered in red, smearing the liquid on his skin. Your eyes widen, "Oh, my god?! You're hurt! Spence—" You try to sit up, but a wave of stinging pain makes you fall back in his arms.

"WHERE'S THE MEDIC?!" Spencer's voice echoes in the entire place. He turns to you, unsure if he is even allowed to have you in his arms. He doesn't dwell on it as he holds your hand on his cheek, squeezing it. "Hey, hey! Breathe for me, yeah? Stay with me." He swallows a sob, placing pressure on your abdomen. "Please, stay with me..."

"I'm hurt?" Stupor begins to steal you out of consciousness. You blink. A bright light blinds your vision.

Once you open your eyes, you're back in Spencer's apartment. He's standing across the room while your feet are rooted at the door. He doesn't look at you. No. He's afraid to look at you.

His hands are buried in his pockets. He's wearing a nice suit. Fitted just for him. His tie is a dark shade of purple. You gave him that tie for his birthday last year. It's loose. His hair is a mess. And his face... it's wet.

He's crying.

You're crying.

"I think you should go," Spencer takes a gulp as he stares at the floor. Like it'd kill him if he looked at you.

You inhale deeply, sniffing as you wipe a tear with the back of your hand, "We don't have to do this, Spence. You don't have to do this."

"Yes, we do!" For the first time in what feels like forever, he finally lifts his gaze at you. His hazel eyes are rimmed with red heat, overflowing with tears. He's hurt. He's hurt, too.

"Is it really that horrible to love me?" You sob. You can hear your heart slowly shatter. Pins and needles knock on your chest. You wonder if you're still breathing right. "Am I that ugly—"

"You know that's not true, sweetheart." You hate that the nickname gives you butterflies. How his words, awful and insensitive, still made you attentively listen. How his voice still makes you want to hear more. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met."

"Then why?!" You felt like a child throwing a tantrum. "Why are you putting a distance between us?" You bite your lower lip to stop it from quivering. "Why is it such a crime to be together?"

Spencer shifts his gaze to somewhere else. He runs a hand through his hair. You notice the coffee stain at the cuff of his sleeve. Then, you see the smudge of red lipstick past the line of his lips. Your red lipstick. He bought that lipstick a few months ago. No reason. Just for the fun of it.

Is it bad that you think he still looks handsome under the sun's setting light? Even when his hair is arrayed in different directions? Even when his face is drenched with his own tears?

He breathes deeply, audibly, "We're in the same line of work. You know better than to think we're going to work. News flash, sweetheart. It won't. It's not worth it." He can't look at you. He's ashamed to look at you.

"Not... worth it?" You blink. You stare at him with disgust, "So— So what? We're nothing, but we fuck? We're nothing, but we flirt? We're nothing, but you love me? Please, explain it to me because I'm having a difficult time understanding the stupid shit of a point you're making."

Spencer gulps for the nth time, "You love me."

"What?" You regret wanting to meet his eyes because now that he's staring at yours with such unfamiliarity, it hurts.

"You love me. You said you love me. I never said anything."

You're definitely not breathing right.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

"Inhale, exhale... Yeah, that's right, sweetheart. Just follow me." Spencer holds your hand tight as the paramedics do their best to stop you from bleeding out. His voice sounds heartbreaking.

His voice...

You blink. Your hearing's back. You do as he says, inhaling and exhaling as he does. You feel lightheaded, like you're floating on a cloud.

Spencer keeps his and your hands intertwined. He follows while the paramedics roll you into the ambulance. "Hang in there, sweetheart. Please, hang in there." His face is a mess. He doesn't stop crying, swallowing his sobs.

You smile into the oxygen mask, blinking. You're on the verge of dying, and yet you find humor in knowing Spencer's tells. "You swallow when you're scared... don't be scared, Spence." You say it in broken words and in an almost soundless voice.

"I'm not," He denies, wiping his tears aggressively. He is. He's scared to the bone.

"The bullet shattered to her chest," The paramedic who inspects your chest claims, looking at her partner with worry.

"W-what?" Spencer stutters, stealing a glimpse down your neck. "No, no, sweetheart. Stay with me. Stay with me." He sees the way you flutter your eyes, fighting to stay conscious, listening to his pleas. And how you suddenly stopped, never opening your eyes back up. "Don't— Don't close your eyes! Sweetheart, please don't go. Please, don't—" He looks up at the sound of your vitals plummeting. He quickly looks back at your face, saying your name like it's a prayer.

The machine flatlines, and the paramedic pushes Spencer aside to perform resuscitation. "Sir, let us do our job." One of them says, two inches deep as she manually restarts your heart.

Spencer shoves himself in the corner of the ambulance. He wraps his arms around him. "Please, don't go..." His voice cracks and transitions into writhing sobs as he watches your body go limp with each surge of electricity that shocks your skin.

Then he thinks of that night.

He thinks of the image of you standing by the door. You don't want to go. He doesn't want you to go.

But you have to... because if you don't, he'll run to you and never let you go. So, he tells you to leave. You protest.

So stubborn. He cries in his head, wishing that you hadn't made things difficult for being so beautiful even when you're crying.

"You love me. You said you love me. I never said anything." His body shakes on the spot. His mouth goes dry. His chest compresses. He lies through his teeth.

Spencer saw the way your face turned into a ghost. He's done it.

He broke you.

He hurt you.

No turning back. No way of fixing it.

"Ah..." You say softly, nodding. "Checks out." You add without a sign of sarcasm. You stare into the air for a minute. You let the silence hover and hunt Spencer for a moment. You let him realize the pain, the stupidity of it all. "I think I should leave..." Your eyes say otherwise.

Please say, "Don't go." Tell me not to leave. Run to me... please.

You wonder if he knows it or chooses to ignore the way you held your tears. If he caught on all your tells. Because you knew he wasn't true. You knew he knew that you could read him like the back of your hand.

"Yeah," Spencer straightens his back, "I think you should."

You purse your lips into a thin line and nod, "Okay," You turn around. You take three seconds to grab the knob, but when the time has run out, you are out in a heartbeat.

"Spencer."

JJ appears in Spencer's vision. "Spencer, are you okay?" Her face was covered with worry as she placed two hands on his shoulders. She exchanges looks with Derek and Aaron.

They were there when it all went down. When the unsub came out of nowhere and started shooting. You were the first shot.

Spencer cranes his neck around. He's in the waiting room. He doesn't remember when or how he got there. All he remembers is the defibrillator jolting your unresponsive body more than once. His eyes widen. He says your name in haste as he stands up, "Where is she? Where— Where..."

Derek holds him back, "She's in surgery, Reid. Did you forget?" He asks, gently pushing Spencer back onto his seat.

"She was dead for three minutes... They couldn't find a pulse for three minutes." Spencer announces at a loss. He looks down at his hand, at the cheap friendship bracelet around his wrist. The one you made in your first year with the team as a last-minute birthday gift. He breaks into a sob, covering his eyes as if to push them back inside his tear ducts.

"So?" Derek catches Spencer's hands off his face, "She's been in surgery for thirty minutes. Her heart started beating again, and it had been for thirty minutes. She's fighting, man. At least fight with her before you wallow like a ninny."

"Morgan," Aaron warns but silently agrees.

You're fighting for your life, so they should, too.

You're not ready to go.

You don't want to go.

Spencer nods and wipes his face. He sniffs and takes a deep breath. He glances at the door to the operating room like he has x-ray vision, "Don't go."

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminalminds #ssa spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencerreid #fem!reader #cm #spencer reid angst #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you

514 notes · View notes

yanderenightmare · 8 months

Text

JJK ! IMAGINE

Okkotsu Yuta x darling

TW: yandere

He’s silent for the most part – pensive and gentle with you – barely touching you aside from mellow strokes lacking a lasting feel and featherlight kisses that only barely leave your skin wet.

Everything seems somewhat virginal. Awkward. At a distance…

But you know he watches you when you sleep – and it gives you goosebumps every night.

He’ll sit in the chair by the window instead of lying next to you, his dour gaze lingering on you and your shape draped in the thin duvet. He’ll listen to your soft snores, and watch you dream – thinking about what he wouldn’t do to keep you like that, safe and sound and perfect – coming up short.

There’s so much ugliness in the world… he needs to keep you from it.

“Yuta…” You croaked groggily, waking up and squinting at him where he still sat in the dim moonlight. “You’re freakin’ me out…” Twisting in the sheets, you pull them aside to free space on the bed before yawning. “Come to bed already.”

He sits for another moment and you think he’s gonna stay there like every other night, keeping guard or whatever it is that he’s doing – but then he stands. Taking your invitation silently, lying down on his side of the bed, making the mattress sink – and it’s only then that you regret it, feeling your heart flare with dread, reminded of how he’s a psycho who’s had you trapped in his house for months without telling you why.

You lie awake in wait of his touch – but it never comes.

Snores come first.

You roll over again, looking at him – disheveled strands of dark hair splayed on the pillow, tired circles beneath heavy eyes – his face serious even in his sleep. It was strange… he didn’t look like a man capable of hurting anyone. But though he’s never hurt you, aside from keeping you here against your will, you know he’s very capable of violence. You’ve seen the bruises he dregs home, but more than that, you’ve seen the blood drenching his white clothes when he comes home bruise-free.

He doesn’t sit in the chair at all the night after. He comes straight to bed alongside you. And you suppose him lying there doesn’t make much difference for you so long he keeps his hands to himself – which he does until you fall asleep.

It’s sometime later in the night when you awake to the feeling of him brushing cold fingers over the exposed skin of your shoulder, down your upper arm, and further upon your hip.

Your breaths stick in your lungs as he shuffles closer, soon pressed flush against your back – his lips at the shell of your ear.

He wraps his arm around your midriff and presses himself harder into you, and it’s only then that you realize he’s crying. Stirring against you in suppressed sobs as he buries his face into your hair.

You cringe. Listening to him sniffle as he holds your body snug. Opening your mouth and closing it again, you suck your lip in hesitation before calling his name. “Yuta?”

“I’m sorry for waking you-” He apologizes – and you wonder if you should just stay quiet, maybe he’d settle down and return to his side of the bed soon. But it seemed a little unlikely.

“Why are you crying?” You ask instead.

“I’m scared…” He says, placing his forehead against the nape of your neck, both arms locked over your stomach and tugging you close for comfort.

You tense at his warmth – never having been so close to him before. Swallowing thickly. “Scared of what?”

His breath shivers against your back where he has his head bowed as his fingers dig into your sides enough to make you release a tiny whimper. “Scared that I won’t be able to protect you.”

You shiver a bit now, scared to move. You’re voice weak. “Protect me from what?”

He lifts his head and places a kiss on your shoulder. Nuzzling against the grove of your neck. “You shouldn’t worry about it.” He dismisses, gently, in a whisper, in that lilt he so often uses with you as though he fears anything louder would rattle you. “It’s my burden.”

He shifts and scoots himself perfectly behind you, holding you snugly in strong arms.

“Sleep, I’ll keep you safe.”

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen #yuta okkotsu #yandere yuta #yandere okkotsu yuta #yandere yuta okkotsu #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuta #jujutsu kaisen yuuta #jujutsu kaisen yuta okkotsu

1K notes · View notes

shotmrmiller · 3 months

Note

okay so !!!! so what if you’re a jealous and possessive pet? like your boy tells you it’s okay to play with the other boys and the other pets and even encourages you like sucking their cock or riding them or eating out one of the other pets but the image of him doing that with someone else’s pet just shatters you. if they’re in a different room that’s bad but being able to see it happen is even worse. you can see the smile they give and the sounds they make and you thought you were special to them but it doesn’t feel like that — how would the boys reconcile something like that?

like knowing the other boys and pets are sharing and playing and you feel bad, especially when they’re all together and everyone is playing but your boy is the only one who’s not and it tears you up because you want him to enjoy and have fun but the thought of him kissing someone else or fucking them, finishing inside them… you could cry.

(bonus angst where one of the boys goes and visits another pet and comes back smelling like them, maybe marked and obviously fucked, and you hadn’t necessarily talked about that yet and it just crushes you and you refuse to sleep in the same bed as them for…. well, for awhile.)

UGH. YOU. I LOVE ANGST.

im a whore for hurt/no comfort so ill try to help write something here cuz if it was me, they can kick rocks. but its not. So.

for the first part, oh man. It's a bottle-it-in situation, imo, because i feel this in my soul. The low grunts you worked so hard to wrestle out of them are easily tumbling out of their mouth now, because of your hard work. It's something so gut-wrenching because that face of ecstasy should only be for you? Then the insecurities kick in. What if they're prettier, what if they're tighter, what if they're simply in another league altogether? (this is me as a hit dog that is hollering)

he's never treated your playdates as a chance to essentially cheat without cheating, he honestly only wanted you to make friends—wanted to expand on the kink you live and breathe by. But regardless, that's how it feels. And this is where the shutdown begins. The silence, the lack of enthusiasm for wanting to put on your collar, the distancing, and when he says, "Does my pet want to play with me today?" you burst into tears. Ugly sobbing, loud wails.

He freezes, for a second, because never in the time you've been together has he ever heard you cry like this. It's agonizing and when he immediately throws himself at your feet, he tries to cup your face with his large hands when you jerk yourself away from his touch.

You've never rejected his touch.

His heart cracks with hairline fractures because this is his love, his future that's falling into pieces in front of him and you don't even want his comfort. He lowers his hands and fists at the fabric of his trousers to hold back from reaching out to you.

For the first time in a long time, his eyes well with tears, and he swallows thickly, trying to open up his throat a bit to be able to say something, anything.

His voice warbles as he says, "Baby, talk to me." He gives you plenty of time to respond, but you don't. Once the tears are exhausted and your body is worn out, you simply turn your head to the side, eyes away from him. The tears that had distorted his vision now fall, dripping onto the cold floor he's still kneeling on. You don't even want to look at him.

"Talk to me, baby, please." His forehead touches your knee. "Please." His tone is desperate as he begs. The sight of a man who's killed people with his bare hands, sniveling by your feet pulls at your own heartstrings. Sigh.

"Would you like to know where you erred?" He whips his head up to look at you, nodding like an idiot.

"Your mistake, was assuming I wanted to share and be shared." He opens his mouth to say something, but you're not here to listen to him. He's here to listen to you.

"No. You presumed I wanted to the same as the other pets, just because we share the same kink? I had to sit there and watch— listen to you fuck someone else, and I couldn't say anything because then I would've been the buzzkill."

You clench your jaw and look directly into his eyes. "Do you know what it's like? No. You don't. You forget that the boys are your friends, your brothers in arms. Not mine. I sat with acquaintances, at best, and had to stomach whatever the fuck that was."

"I no longer wish to—" but he panics here, adapts a crazy-eyed look and cuts you off.

"No, no, no. Please, god no. You're my everything, you, I—" he hiccups, and his shoulders start to shake once he wraps his arms around your waist, and lowers his head onto your knees again, and chokes out, "I am nothing without you. Please."

Having cried all your tears, your sadness fades into sharp, biting anger. "It didn't seem like it though. You were quick to pass me around like some harlot. You're just gonna give me to anyone you see? Hm? What about the neighbor that has been hitting on m—" and he jerks his head back up, eyes deadly, dark with hostility.

"I'd fucking kill him for even having the audacity to ask if he could touch you the way I do."

Scoffing, you say, "And that's how I felt. Fucking strangers touching what should be only mine, kissing what is only mine," your tone turns hushed, "what I thought was mine, anyway."

Holding his gaze, you purse your lips. "I need time to think. You broke my trust. I'm not sure how to move forward from here."

this is too long im sorry uh, so he gives you all the time in the world, all the space you need, for which you're grateful. He's not overbearing, never crowds you. never says anything out of line. He seems fully repentant, dotes on you like his only reason for existing is to keep you as happy as you can feel. He tells you he loves you every bloody day, even if you don't repeat it back. He says it firm, unwavering.

And that's the balm that allays the pain in your heart. But you love him, still, so so much. With a deep breath, you tell him that you're not going to leave him, that you love him still and that's why it hurt the way that it did. But he'll have a ton of groveling to do.

The shaky smile he gives is full of relief. He pulls you to him, in an embrace so tight that you can barely even breathe. And after, he holds your face so tenderly, as if you're made of porcelain, and asks for a kiss, one you agree to. It conveys everything he's been sayings all this time, that he loves you.

and months pass, intimacy slowly turns back to what it was, but with reverent kisses and worship spilling from his lips. Words so sweet, that you break down in tears mid-act because you feel something finally shift back into place. Ofc, he freaks because "Darling, oh god, what's happened" but you pull him in for a kiss, and just tell him that you love him so much. His smile is soft as he says it back.

Then you pull out the collar again, and he panics but you calm him. That you feel ready. You want to play with your owner, and your heart is in his hands, to please take care of it.

A couple of tears fall from his eyes as he clicks your collar back around your neck and swears to never hurt you this way again.

Playdates turn into him being the only one to touch you and vice versa. And he answers to no one when they ask why.

i had a good time im sorry its so long I JUST LOVE ANGST PLEASE.

I hope i gave you what you were looking for ❤

#call of duty #tf 141 x reader #141 pet play

525 notes · View notes

grapementos · 11 months

Text

ugly truth

pt 2 of this. pt 3 here.

aged up bakugo x reader

cw: descriptions of a panic attack, hospitals

a month had passed since you walked out on katsuki, walked out on your life, your home--everything you knew.

a number of your friends, along with plenty of katsuki's (who were mutual friends at this point), had reached out to you, offering a place to stay.

mina, kirishima, denki, and sero in particular were constantly checking on you and shooting you texts in case you needed to talk.

you knew they meant well, for they were bakugo's closest friends and knew how mean he could be. occasionally, you spent a night with them, the five of you coming together to watch a movie or play a game.

however, you knew they talked to bakugo too, so you remained cautious and never overshared--especially to kirishima. he was bakugo's right hand, his best friend since u.a.

there was no way you were going to show any semblance of missing bakugo, not around him.

once you found your own place, you'd distanced yourself from them, avoiding overstaying your welcome.

after they helped you move into your apartment and yet again reminded you, "if you need anything, we're here! really, anything at all!" you settled into your new space, suddenly feeling so alone.

for the first time in what felt like eternity, there was pure silence.

and then there wasn't.

the loudness, the static in your mind overpowered everything, several emotions washing over you like tidal waves. each wave was bigger than the last, merciless as it dragged you under, filling your nose and lungs with doubt, regret, sadness, anger.

"fuck," you whispered, pulling a pillow to your chest, "fuck."

you sobbed into the pillow, draining yourself of every ounce of strength and independence you thought you had.

you and bakugo had been together for three years--three years that you spent falling asleep, knowing you'd wake up to his face in the morning, three years of cooking meals large enough for two people, three years of habitually closing the shower curtain after your shower because it irked him when it was left open, three years of keeping the sodas on the left side of the fridge and water on the right.

three years. how can you unlearn three years worth of habits? let go of three years worth of comfort?

i can't do this, i can't. i can't be alone.

your subconscious was destroying you, and you hated that you felt like it was right. how could you survive alone?

your chest tightened, and the room spun and spun as the oxygen left your lungs too quick, overworking your circulatory and respiratory system.

"i need him-" you choked out, grasping desperately at nothing, nothing that could help you ground yourself.

a wave of dread rolled through you, sending your body into complete and total panic. just as you moved to stand, to grab your phone and call whoever, you felt a sense of airiness before your body tapped out, sending you straight back down to the floor.

"yeah, they're okay." a pause, "no, i just found them like this. i didn't know what else to do."

you groaned quietly, slowly blinking your eyes open to a stark, off-white ceiling. the blinding light made you regret it immediately, not to mention the pounding headache, swollen eyes, and nasty-feeling skin.

"y/n? you awake?" you recognized mina's voice from right beside you.

"yeah, god," you mumbled, hesitantly cracking an eye open, "hospital?"

"yeah. sorry, i just.." she trailed off, looking down at her shoes, "i found a pair of shoes you left at my place and wanted to give them back. then i found you just.. out cold."

you scrunched your eyes as you tried to remember anything before the onyx pit you were dropped into but thinking just hurt your head more.

"kirishima's on his way. he's super worried, you know." she chuckled, grabbing your hand, "he hates hospitals."

you squeezed her hand, finally managing to open your eyes fully, "me too. they stink."

she laughed, scooting her chair closer to your bed, "do you remember what happened?"

you tried to concentrate, pondering what you were doing. obviously, you had just moved in and..

"oh." you sighed, suddenly feeling stupid. of course, you'd been crying like the damn baby katsuki said you were, "i think i was just anxious. you know, new place and all."

"you could've stayed living with me, you know. i don't mind your company at all."

you shook your head, "i have to," your voice cracked a little, but you hid it with a cough, "i have to move past this. get on with my life."

"but there's no rush, y/n, you know--"

"where are they?" your body stiffened at the voice echoing off the linoleum and into your ears, triggering the code red alarm inside your head.

suddenly, the door slammed open and in walked a terrified looking katsuki and a guilty kirishima.

you scooted yourself back into the plastic barrier of the bed, clenching the bars, "what the hell is he doing here?"

"y/n, are you okay? what happened?" katsuki approached the bed, inspecting you for any injuries.

"get the hell away from me!" you winced at the pull on the iv in your arm as you moved impossibly farther away from him.

the heart monitor beside you was picking up, your blood pressure climbing higher and higher the closer he got.

mina stepped between the two of you before he could say anything, "kiri, what the hell? why would you bring him?"

"you were on speaker in my car when you told me, and we were together!" he explained frantically, "he didn't listen to me."

she shook her head, pushing katsuki towards the door, "you shouldn't be here. they don't wanna see you."

he looked past her, pleading at you with his eyes, "please, y/n, i'm so sorry, okay? i need you, okay? i need you, and i need to know that you're okay."

"y/n?" mina looked back at you, silently asking what she should do.

"i don't want to see him." you looked away, unable to look in his eyes for fear of falling victim to their lure.

without hesitation, mina ushered him to the exit despite his protests, almost getting him completely out when there was a thud on the linoleum.

katsuki was on his knees, his arm outstretched above his head as he clutched something in his fist.

for a moment, you expected him to set off an explosion or anything of the crazy sort.

you flinched as he opened his fist, fully expecting to be blown to bits.

instead, the fluorescent lights bounced off the shine of what you were 101% sure was an engagement band.

the other two in the room gasped, kirishima releasing his quirk that had instinctively taken over the front of his body.

"i was gonna ask you," he choked out, "before i quit the agency. but then everything went south and, and i--i just, i lost sight, y/n, and i'm so sorry. i'll be better, i swear it."

your hand covered your mouth, though you were speechless anyways. instinctively, you felt anger. how could he do this to you? here? now? after you'd wound up in the hospital because of him?

"how dare you," you spat, tears welling up in your eyes, "how dare you do this to me? do you enjoy hurting me, huh? tearing me apart just to build me back up again? do you get off on that--that glory?"

he was crying too, his eyes pleading, "i don't wanna hurt you. i'll go to therapy, i'll change, i swear. whatever you want me to do, i'll do it right now."

you swallowed hard around the ball in your throat, "leave. leave me alone and stay the hell out of my life."

hospital staff came flooding into the room before katsuki could respond, ushering the three of them out, "i'm sorry, this hospital has low tolerance for commotion like this. security will see you out."

you had never been more grateful that you were in a hospital, relief flooding your body as you turned onto your side, letting the tears run down your cheeks.

it wasn't fair. he knocked you about a hundred tiny steps back, considering you'd only taken a hundred tiny steps in the past month. your heart was throbbing, and a large part of you couldn't help but question your decision.

what if he really would change, get better? he was the love of your life. no one had ever loved you better.

extremely stressed, you found yourself questioning whether you'd made the right decision.

wow, i was super surprised by the amount of support. it was meant to be a standalone, but now i’m pretty sure there will be a 3rd part. thank you so much for the support! 🩷

tags: @blackout-ice-biohazard @survivorofmath @iam-thevillain-of-thisstory @odessa-is-my-queen @firesmokeandashes @tsukikoxo @valentineshiftz

#bnha #anime #mha #my hero academia #angst #boku no hero academia #drabble #gender neutral reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo mha #panic attack #gender neutral y/n #mina ashido #kirishima ejiro #kirishima ejirou #grapeflop$

1K notes · View notes

shogunish · 7 months

Text

𝗽𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗲.

pairing. true form! sukuna x f! reader

genre. some sort of romance (?)

contents. set in the heian period, true form sukuna, reader is a concubine, after sex + casual nudity, creampie, violence, blood, mediocre poetry that i wrote myself

summary. sukuna who neither loves nor hates anyone, finds himself attracted to the poetry you write so elegantly.

words. 2.4k

note. based on this random sukuna thought i had.

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

you had no other choice but to bang your fist against wooden gates in the pouring rain, mud staining your once white robes and strands of hair sticking to your face like a second skin.

"please, let me in!"

what else were you supposed to do when a swarm of curses suddenly terrorized your village, eating your parents' flesh alive and feasting on their corpses once they had died of shock? you had barely made it out of your home, throwing stones at the winged cursed spirits in hopes of gaining some sort of distance, an advantage.

"i'll do anything! i swear!"

you banged your fist harder until splinters pierced your skin and jumped off the wood. but the pain of it wasn't greater than the anguish of losing your loved ones, your home – a place you could no longer return to, a graveyard for the living.

tears of despair ran down your cheeks and you sobbed. wings flapped in the distance. you didn't need to turn around to know that those cursed spirits had caught up to you in the matter of a few minutes. horror crawled up your spine, slinging itself around your neck like the burn of a noose.

"please! i'm begging!"

your heart had already given up when you sunk to your knees, your mind made peace with the fact that this was it. but before you even knew what happened, someone grabbed the collar of your robes, dragged you inside and tossed your body into a puddle of mud like..like you were nothing.

"huh..?" sitting on your knees, your head shot up and your eyes widened once they caught sight of your savior and downfall.

he looked like a beast. four arms and two faces with pink hair slicked back amd an aura that nearly suffocated you. a pair of his arms was crossed over his chest, red eyes glared at you, stared right through the essence of your soul.

ryomen sukuna.

your grandparents always told you stories about him, but you never believed that anyone, or rather anything, like that could exist. nothing but a scary fairytale meant to teach children not to misuse jujutsu or else he'd eat them in their sleep. but he was real. silently, you wished you had listened to grandma and grandpa.

sukuna didn't ask for it, but your trembling body was on autopilot when you lowered your forehead to the wet ground and squeezed your eyes shut.

"do you have any idea how loud you are?" his voice was deep, obviously annoyed by your obnoxious begs and pleads to let you in, to grant you shelter from a horde of lousy cursed spirits.

you dug your fingernails into the ground. "m-my apologies.." your voice died in your throat, hoarse from screaming and begging and trembling out of pure fear. "my village..it got slaughtered and i..i just.."

"did I ask for any of your excuses?" sukuna couldn't care less about your sob story you tried serving him in an attempt to keep your life.

you were about to apologize again when clawed hands grabbed your cheeks, jerked your head upwards and forced you to look at sukuna who appeared to be bored out of his mind. wide-eyed, you stared at him with mud, tears and blood on your face. truly disgusting did you look.

"you said you'd do anything?" sukuna questioned as he regarded your fear-stricken face that looked like it was about to cry again when you dumbly nodded your head.

despite that, he had to admit that your skin seemed well taken care of and the fabric of your robes was neither too shabby nor too expensive. you were neither a farmer nor a noble, but something..in-between.

you reminded him of a poem he once read.

"the ugly little duck that many would have slaughtered

grew into a beautiful swan with grace unknown and beauty unmatched."

a silly swing of mood was all it took for sukuna to change his mind. originally, he wanted to spill the blood of the person who disturbed his rest, but he decided to give you chance to grow into something beautiful, something even someone like him could admire like the poetry he liked to read.

"you'd make a fine concubine." a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

was this..it?

you'd get to keep your life in exchange for pleasuring a mass murderer? you cringed at the thought and had half the mind to say that you'd rather be fed to the wolves than existing for a man's pleasure, but then..the images of your killed loved ones flashed before your eyes.

saying those words out loud would result in a painful, slow death. those cursed spirits would tear the flesh off your bones until you'd die of shock or blood loss.

you yielded. you did say you'd do anything.

"yes..i shall be your concubine as a sign of my gratitude."

those words sealed your fate.

sukuna called for someone named uraume, an androgynous-looking person clothed in monk robes and they took you inside where you were not only granted a bath but also a fresh pair of robes. they said they'd show you around the coming morning, that you would be to sleep in a room with the other concubines and that you had nothing to do but satisfy sukuna's sexual desires.

if you were to disobey, you would die.

just what had you gotten yourself into?

sukuna liked to believe that he didn't care about anyone. people, humans, were nothing but the dirt underneath his feet. maybe even the ants he'd squish if they were lucky enough. but even a curse such as himself found himself drawn to one of the arts humans gave birth to.

it was poetry.

those words would likely never reach sukuna's soul, but he liked the art of putting words together, to think about their meaning. after all, writing was the same as laying your soul bare – similar to showing your nude body to strangers like one of his many concubines.

in full bloom were the cherry blossoms, plum and vibrant. a spring breeze blew by and the engawa creaked underneath sukuna's bare feet. the pond's surface was disturbed by the occasional koi fish getting a little too close to the sun, the water rippled silently before coming to flawless stillness once more.

one more step and a glance towards the ground – what was this? sukuna bent down, picked up a piece of paper and upon turning it around, he was met with fine, onyx brush strokes and a neat handwriting. it was poetry.

sukuna shouldn't be as interested as he was, but maybe it was the good mood he had which allowed him to indulge himself in such silly thing.

"dreams are like bubbles.

fragile and transient, one touch and they cease to exist.

so why is it that i keep blowing bubbles,

hoping that the wind will be more gentle with them than my own fingertips?"

"if pain is time, then this must be eternity."

"his claws, so sharp and lethal and drenched in his arrogance's blood, almost feel as gentle as the breeze ringing in the spring."

and when sukuna raised his gaze, wanting to find a trace of the person who wrote these lines with such anguish, ruby irises found your form sitting underneath a tree. a little book was in your hands, black ink on the tips of your fingers as you dragged the brush across the paper. a faraway look in your eyes and glossy lips parted ever so slightly as you wrote down word for word.

who would've thought that a mere concubine, a woman whose purpose was to please sukuna in any way possible, was capable of creating such beauty? of executing such etiquette and carrying the brush with the sorrows of days gone by.

what else was going on in your mind, in that little soul of yours?

"sukuna. is everything alright?" uraume asked as they emerged from a sliding door. they had just come back from aiding the maids with a task that they needed help with and upon coming back, uraume immediately noticed the foreign expression on sukuna's face.

was this..awe..curiosity..or something entirely different? they couldn't tell.

sukuna crumpled the piece of paper in his fist. "yeah. no need to worry." he reassured his subordinate, but..those words were directed to himself as well.

soon after, sukuna requested you more often and kept you by his side for a little while before you'd pick up your kimono from the ground to go back to your own chambers to wash the sin off your body.

candles lit up sukuna's chamber, dipping the walls in hues of orange and yellow as the flame flickered. paintings as well as weapons made for war decorated the space – tools which still scared you, because what could a being such as sukuna do with these weapons? he could likely do worse than just murder you, you thought.

a sheen of sweat coated your nude body. your breasts rose and fell with each deep breath you took and sukuna's marks littered your skin. his bites on your neck, fingerprints on your thighs and the marks of his claws on your hips which were partly bloody. semen leaking from your entrance, you shivered.

"may i assume you're satisfied for the night, sukuna?" you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes still hazy from your orgasm.

sukuna's lower arm was wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. it was the most gentle touch you had ever received from him.

he hummed as if he was in thought. "..not quite."

immediately, you squirmed into a more upright position, eyes wide and shimmering even in the dim light. "i promise i can do better! if you let me just–" deft fingers attempted to raise the blanket from sukuna's lower half, but he stopped you, shaking his head.

"no, not that. rather.." he trailed off, watching the confusion grow in your eyes. "..i desire to know whether it's you who's lost a page of poetry?" sukuna's voice was deep, smooth like velvet, yet as dark as the abyss in his pupils. "the other concubines wouldn't even know how to write poetry, so..the only one left is you, [name]."

heat rose to your face. ashamed, you raise the blanket up to your collarbone as if it could hide the words sukuna had found. "..how did you..?"

"i found it when i stepped on it." sukuna was gentle when he cupped your chin with his clawed fingers and made you look at him. "consider me impressed."

surprise was written all over your face, lips parted, eyes wide and all that. you swore your heart was beating in your throat. did sukuna, the king of curses, just praise you?

he never praised anyone.

"..pardon..?" you breathed out. was this some kind of dream? a lucid dream? or maybe you were put under a spell? whichever it was..it felt pleasant.

"i'm not going to repeat myself." sukuna brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, tucking the strand behind your ear. "but i am going to keep you by my side. it appears that you're good for more than meets the eye."

that night, sukuna handed you a brush, ink and a piece of paper. he kept you by his side the entire night, wanting to hear the words you put to paper until you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder and his marks on your skin.

people said that love came all different shapes and forms: platonic love, familial love, erotic love, the love one held towards a pet and so on. if one were to ask sukuna what sort of affections he held towards you when you sat by his side, filling pages of poetry for him to read, he likely would remain silent.

because as arrogant as he was as the king of curses, as much as he didn't care about anyone but himself, he could not deny the fact that, in your company, he found peace amidst the violence that he caused himself.

sukuna liked the way you sat next to him with no fear, gentle eyes focused on that little notebook and a brush in your hand. silently would you sit next to the catastrophe that was sukuna, pouring your feelings onto paper that would one day fade and crumble like leaves in the wind. yes, even your tranquil self would one day fade into nothing like the ink on your papers.

"will you miss me when it's my turn to go?" you asked without looking at sukuna. a few cherry blossoms petals got tangled in your hair.

sukuna was gentle when he used one of his hands to pick the petal out of your hair. he should've said no without hesitating so long, because despite your appearance, you were awfully perceptive – that much sukuna had learned.

a smile graced your lips. seated next to sukuna on the engawa had become your favorite pastime even though he would use your body later on with no regard for your aching limbs.

"what? am I dear to you?" you teased the king of curses. within the last few months, you had become attuned to each other without meaning to.

"..if it is possible for a curse to love."

a sigh slipped sukuna's lips. he begrudgingly entertained your thoughts. "it seems that my treatment towards you has got to your head, [name]."

at that, you giggle into your notebook, eyes closed and the apples of your cheeks tinting a hue of red. "maybe a little bit. i was merely wondering if.."

sukuna was certain that he didn't love you, but rather the words you wrote. they flowed like water, written with grace unknown and beauty unmatched. each syllable was either fragile like a petal or sturdy like a warrior on horseback. it was funny how your poetry was a reflection of yourself.

when you sat next to sukuna, you were tender but when he'd order you into his chamber, you'd take and obey his orders like a samurai with nothing but moans on your lips.

"my affection has nothing to do with you." sukuna said after a pause.

"how sad." you mused, putting your brush down. "a being who has been living for so long and never experienced any sort of love. it must be lonely."

that day when you pressed a kiss to sukuna's cheek like a lover would, he wondered…if maybe you were attached to him instead.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #sukuna

698 notes · View notes

astroboots · 9 months

Text

EVERY YOU EVERY ME #11.5 SPECIAL

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

Word count: 5,800

Warning: Heavy angst and character death. Dead Dove do not eat.

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

Let’s start from the beginning one last time.

My name is Miguel O’Hara, and in an experiment gone wrong, my genetic code was partially rewritten with Spider DNA, giving me superpowers.

My home is Earth 928-C where I was the one and only Spiderman... of my home dimension at least.

I invented and built a dimensional travel device that allowed me to jump between universes with the goal of exploring the limits of the multiverse.

And then I met a woman in this other world who nearly died from a crazy freak accident.

I saved her of course.

Then I saved her again.

And again, and again.

... And again.

We fell in love, and I decided to stay with her in her world.

You know the rest. We got married. We had a life together.

I was happy. Really happy.

For a while.

[Earth 383-D]

3 YEARS AGO

"Goddamn idiot bird," Miguel mutters under his breath.

Vulture is on the loose again, wreaking havoc on the city. The maniac is flying high above the city grounds, leaving a trail of mayhem in his wake.

Miguel's been in pursuit for the better half of two hours. In that time, the bird has derailed the High Line, literally hit a traffic light and managed to knock over the spire on the Statue of Liberty as if he was flying under the influence.

Then somehow flew across town through Tribeca, along Lower Manhattan and Greenwich Village and now reached all the way to Midtown Manhattan.

Dumbass ugly stupid bird.

Miguel digs his claws into the exterior of the limestone and granite of the Empire State Building to steady himself, using the momentum to leap forward.

The Vulture crashes into a skyscraper 50 feet ahead of Miguel, and in the mad dash, he can see a man tumble out of the building head first to the ground from the 30th floor.

Swinging forward, Miguel slings out a web from his palm, catching the screaming and sobbing office worker in midair and lands briefly against the windowpane. He ensures the man is secured to the building in a cocoon of webbing until the fire department can get him to safer grounds.

Miguel doesn't even get a second to catch his breath. From afar, he can pick up the sound of another window being crashed into by the unwieldy metal bird.

Crap.

It's impossible for Miguel to both chase the Vulture and keep everyone else in his path of destruction safe. One superhero can't be in two places at once (none that he has encountered).

Gritting his teeth, Miguel leaps off the building swinging freely into the air to make up on the lost ground between him and the metallic cuckoo bird.

He needs backup, and the backup is unfortunately running late.

Where is he? Why is he always late?

Does that man not understand that when someone calls for backup because of an emergency, the emergency part indicates that there's some urgency to it?

Flying through the air 100 feet above the ground, from the corner of his eyes, Miguel catches the familiar garish red flowing cape that billows from the cowl of the grand cloak and suit.

Miguel would know that weird wizard get-up anywhere.

"Strange!" Miguel calls out, and he can feel irritation rattle in his chest. "You're late! Where the shock were you?"

"The word you're looking for is 'fuck.' Where the fuck was I," the man responds with a sarcastic drawl.

Strange levitates through the air, effortlessly without expending any energy at all as he catches up with Miguel. "You gave me no notice. Be happy I showed up at all."

From a distance he sees the dumb bird soar high up into the sky and towards the all too familiar crowned roof of the Chrysler building.

No. nononono.

Why is he there? What is he doing there? Anywhere but there.

His back flashes cold then burning hot as the Vulture makes a straight beeline for the familiar building.

It’s fine. Maybe he’s not going to fly in there. Maybe he’s just going to fly past it.

Miguel watches as the metallic bird soars up and up and up, past the midpoint of the building, past the 40th floor of your office and up to the 50th floor. The tight squeeze in his chest eases.

Then the vulture stops, mid-flight and looks down below, as if he changed his mind, before he descends again.

Shit! Shit! SHIT!

He dives into one of the windows between the 40th and 50th floor. The sound of broken glass and shrill screams can be heard even from where Miguel is.

Blood freezes in his veins and nausea overtakes him. Calm down. Breathe.. Maybe you’re not in. After all, Lyla’s security protocols would’ve been activated by now if you were. He would’ve been alerted.

Soaring through the skies, Miguel reaches over to his wrist to punch in the dial for Lyla to check in and reassure himself you're safe. But his tracker blinks back in an alarming red, and he darts down his head towards the display.

Error.

His heart stops.

The flying silhouette reappears through the shattered windows and the metallic harness strapped onto the vulture gleams bright against the sun.

It’s only then it hits him. Lyla's been deactivated by the madman's stupid Electro-Magnetic Harness.

Why hadn't he foreseen that as a technical flaw?

Against the reflective glass panes, Miguel sees you, caught in the Vulture talons like a mouse captured by a large predatory bird. Every hair on his neck stands on end. His vision bleeds into red, blood roaring at the sight of it.

Kill him.

Miguel's gonna murder that freak for touching you. Crush his windpipe so he can't ever squawk again, then rip his throat out with his claws and feed it to the street pigeons for good measure.

Launching himself through the air, Miguel tears up the side of the building. The tempered glass beneath his claws and feet, shatters into sharp jagged pieces as he closes the distance.

He is almost within reach. Only some 30 feet that still separates you from him. Leaping the final distance he slams hard into the side of the Vulture until metal crunches beneath his feet.

Miguel roars until his throat burns with it. Palms gripping at the man’s jaw and prying it back to get at his bare throat. His fangs are ready to sink into the jugular. He can see the dark pupil of Vulture's eyes dilate with fear.

Good. Miguel's anger will be the last thing this freak sees.

"Miguel calm down," Strange shouts at him from behind. "You're gonna knock her off."

Miguel freezes at the warning, forcing himself to hold still as he looks down to where you are dangling precariously from the Vulture's claws.

"Be ready," Strange shouts, and Miguel looks to him, not understanding what the hell he means.

Strange rests his hand over the shiny blue gem hanging around a chain from his neck.

What does he mean by be ready? What is Strange going to do?

"What'd you mea–"

Miguel doesn't have a chance to finish the rest of his sentence. An unnatural force vibrates through him. A pulsating wave that pervades his senses, punching through his lungs and knocks him back.

In an instance, you're propelled away from Strange and the Vulture, and you are freefalling towards the ground below.

Miguel leaps mid-air, arms outstretched to catch you as you plummet towards the ground below. His fingers clasps around your wrists, your warm skin against his fingertips.

He's got you!

Taking hold of you by the arm, Miguel pulls you into his chest as he wraps one arm securely around your waist.

Immediate relief fills him from the inside out as the adrenaline and the searing anger is already starting to fade now that he knows you're safe.

"You okay, nena?" he asks.

You nod, arms finding purchase around the back of his neck, and squeeze down tight. He swings you both to the safety of a nearby rooftop.

There's barely time for him to touch the surface, he hears the nearby explosion and sees Vulture crash into the concrete wall of the nearest building.

Strange is levitating nearby, hands making wild gestures, presumably to perform some hocus pocus ritual. There’s a magical glow as strobes of light manifest out of thin air surrounding the Vulture from all sides and wrapping around him in a restraining bind.

Miguel sets you down. You're a little bit wobbly on your feet, and seeing you stumble the way you do has that protective streak spark anew in his chest.

Stupid Strange. He can't just do shit like that.

What if Miguel hadn't reacted in time? What if you had fallen?

This is why Miguel hates working with the guy, even if they’re friends. Always on his moral high horse about Miguel being reckless, then he pulls shit like this.

"Everyone alright?" Strange asks as he levitates through the sky to set feet close to you both on the rooftop.

Miguel grits his teeth with annoyance at the man’s casual demeanor when he nearly threw you out of the sky.

"Shock you, Strange," he spits out.

"Miggy..." you sigh in a reprimanding tone next to him.

Stephen shakes his head at him. "I told you. It's fuck"

"Fuck you, Strange."

Sanctum Sanctorum is closer than home and Strange has, comfortable sofas in his ridiculously big mansion. Big enough sofas that Miguel can actually lounge in them comfortably without it feeling cramped. It's why, given the choice, he always prefer to regroup there, over your tiny apartment.

Besides, while the man's control over his magical powers can be suspect at times, he used to be a doctor. Supposedly one of the leading brain surgeons in the world, and Miguel is a lot more comfortable at the prospect of Strange giving you a checkover to make sure you don't need further medical attention than trying your luck at one of the local ERs.

"Follow my finger," Strange says as he shines a little flashlight into your eyes and moves his index from side to side.

Your eyes follow him dutifully, and Strange proceeds with the rest of his medical check, asking you the boring standard questions. "Any symptoms of dizziness, lightheadedness, or a sense of vertigo?"

He fires them out in rapid succession, and a bit too perfunctory for Miguel's liking.

"Noticed any changes in your vision, blurriness or double vision, etcetera etcetera?"

Miguel's jaw tic in irritation at how Strange is putting in minimal effort and just going through the motions.

"Yeah, you're fine." Strange pats your knees, then whisks the flashlight away into nothingness with his cape.

That medical check wasn't anything close to thorough. Miguel crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you sure? Her feet were wobbly before, I wanted to make sure she didn't sprain her ankle."

"A little bit overprotective as always aren't we?" Strange says.

Miguel shoots the man a glare and Stephen sighs, "Her reflexes are fine, I don't think anything's sprained."

"Check again, you seemed sloppy," Miguel accuses.

"You know, I'm doing this as a favor because you’re a friend. Do you have any idea how much a medical examination by one of the leading neurological surgeons in the world would cost you normally?"

"I'll have Lyla transfer the money."

“No, it’s not actually about money just–" Stephen shakes his head, then sighs. "Nevermind.”

He gestures for you to drape your leg across his lap, then he reaches over to gently assess your ankle as requested.

"What is this necklace?" You ask. You lean closer to Strange, inspecting the blue gem where it rests against his chest.

Strange swats at your hand, the way an adult scolds a child with sticky chocolate smeared hands trying to touch the fine china.

"It's a protection amulet. When activated it forms a protective barrier that forcibly repels everything within ten feet of you."

"Huh," you reach back for the amulet undaunted by the earlier reprimand, fascinated and clearly enamored by it. "I'll give you fifty bucks for it."

Strange looks offended. "It's not for sale, and if it was it would certainly be worth a lot more than fifty dollars. It's a genuine magical artifact, not fake costume jewelry from the theater department."

You purse your lips, considering the amulet.

"Forty," you offer.

Miguel has to choke back a snorting laughter in his throat at the way Stephen's eyes goes wide in confused outrage.

"Wait, why is the price going down?"

“We’re in the middle of an economic crisis, Stephen,” you counter.

Strange's head darts over to where Miguel sits, presumably for backup, but he's knocked on the wrong door. The man must be mad if he thinks that there is ever a world where Miguel would side against you.

"Strange, we both know it’s easier if you just give her the amulet." Miguel says.

The man sighs, shaking his head in defeat.

"Be careful with it," he says as he drags the chain over his head to place it in your awaiting palms. "And don't lose it like the invisibility amulet with Mysterio. Had to spend a whole month clearing up your mess when that creep used it to get into the women's locker rooms at every local gym in Greenwich!"

"That wasn’t my mess! Miggy lost that one during an aerial fight. You can't blame that on me."

"You married him, so you're responsible for him. I consider you two jointly to blame."

"Now you're just lashing out," you shoot back.

Miguel watches the two of you in patient boredom, his head propped up by an elbow on the arm of the sofa. He expended way too much energy during the fight, and now he needs to refuel.

If Miguel leaves you two to it, you'll spend an eternity bantering, the way you do. His stomach growls. He wants food. Wants wantons and beef ho fun and a dozen custard salted egg buns for dessert. And the longer you two are at it, the longer it's going to take for him to get it.

"Nena," he calls out, "I'm hungry. Are you two done? I want to go for dinner."

You shoot Miguel a quick smile, pulling out your wallet and take out a wad of green bills then fold it into Strange's hand with a happy grin.

Strange looks down at the crumpled up money in his hand. "Wait, you're only giving me thirty? I thought we said forty."

"You still owe me like ten bucks from mini golf last week."

Strange pockets the money with a grumble. "Unbelievable."

“C’mon,” Miguel says as he stands up and gestures to the both of you with a curt nod of his head towards the door. “Let’s go. I’ll pay for dinner this time,” Miguel says, and that seems to abate Strange’s outrage somewhat as the man grabs your coat from the sofa cushions and offers it to you.

Life on Earth 383-D is strange.

Life here is borderline primitive. The technology is something out of the stone ages.

Social media is a wasteland. Reality TV is a dystopian concept. And he doesn't understand who Kardashian is or why everyone is obsessed with her and her family.

He does like fax machines though. They are basically teleportation machines and it boggles him that the people of your dimension do not seem to understand its potential.

The one thing he will give this version of earth credit for is that the food here is nice. Everyone in his home dimension is too health conscious, and fried food has long been banned by the government for the long term damage it does to the cardiovascular system.

He also likes the life that the two of you have built together here. You have a home in that tiny shoebox apartment. You have friends. Strange friends. Like the Doctor who flies around with the help of a magic cape and now practices the mystic arts after a gap year in Asia. A young girl whose main superpower is the ability to communicate with squirrels. Then there’s that ugly red-masked wise-cracking, katana-wielding maniac who never dies.

Sadly, your friends are not the only thing that is strange about your surroundings.

Miguel perches himself on top of the Chrysler building sitting hunched over on the ledge of the roof. He’s drained and bone-tired, chasing down a helicopter that had gone haywire and was hurtling towards your office building.

Luckily Strange was able to assist and sent it through a magic portal to crash into the Atlantic without putting any lives at stake.

"Just had to do some cleaning up," Strange says as he sets his boots back down on the ground.

Miguel doesn't answer him, staring out at the city view and the setting sun as he takes a well earned breather for a moment or two. New York is a bit of a shit hole, but it does look pretty from a high viewpoint, especially when the sun is setting, Miguel has to give this city that.

It's silent between the two of them. Or at least it is until Strange decides to break it with a harkle of his throat. When Miguel doesn't react the man does it again, coughing discreetly in a clear attempt to get his attention.

Miguel doesn't say anything about the man's sore throat. He ran out of the lemon drops you bought him as snacks hours ago, but he does tilt his head up at the man.

"She's been getting into a lot of these incidents lately. More than usual, more than any normal human for it to be a coincidence" Strange says.

The whole of Miguel's back stiffens.

"Have you noticed the abnormal uptick in strange unexplainable supernatural occurrences lately? Indoor tornadoes. The rain of poisonous frogs outside of whole foods. A sinkhole appearing right next to the cafe your wife frequents."

Miguel doesn't love the insinuations. Even with his lips pressed tightly together, Miguel can feel the small muscle in his jaw flex like a nervous tic at the mention of it. Because yeah, he's noticed, kind of hard to miss when your wife's life is in constant peril at all hours of the day.

Ice storms in July that hit right outside your workplace. An inexplicable solar flare causing a blackout that had every single vehicle within a 5 miles radius go haywire in the dark near your apartment. A swarm of mutated mosquitoes with a venomous bite that chased you down Central Park.

The incidents are occurring more frequently. They are also getting increasingly bizarre and dangerous.

No one can say it’s just bad luck when the daily occurrences around you are defying the very laws of nature itself. Something isn't right with the universe, and he's not sure what else there is to do except pretend that everything is still ok.

"What are you implying?" Miguel asks through gritted teeth.

But for the first time in the years that Miguel has known him, Strange's talkativeness is nowhere to be found. He doesn't answer Miguel. He's smart that way, the clever bastard. Knows that if he says one wrong word, Miguel is going to unhinge his jaws like a feral alligator and snap at him.

Strange has said what he needed for Miguel to know exactly what he's getting at. The man just meets his eyes with an intentional stare, not shying away from Miguel's glare.

It's not like the thought hasn't crossed Miguel's mind. Not like it hasn't been keeping him up at night, every night.

Even though you've always been accident prone and suffered from bad luck, at this point it's a mathematical impossibility that anyone would run into as many near death incidents as you have.

This isn't by chance. It's by design. Miguel's suspected as much for a while now. He just doesn't know whose design and why.

"It's not her fault," Miguel spits out.

"I never said it was."

"Even if what you are saying is true..." Miguel stops, and stares down at his fisted palms with a sinking feeling in his guts. "There's nothing she can do about it to stop it. You can't put that on her."

"Whether she knows about it or not, if it's true, none of this is going to go away.

Strange walks over to where Miguel is, sitting down next to him.

"It’s been escalating in severity," he continues. "There are strange universal energies attached to her. There’s warping of the universal order and space around her. We don't know how bad this can get, if we don’t do anything about this, it could unravel the fabric of reality itself."

Despite the calamity of what Strange is implying, his voice is even and calm as he says it as if he might as well be discussing the weather. That trait has always annoyed the shit out of Miguel.

"What are you planning to do if this continues?" Strange asks.

It's such a silly question. Strange says it as if this is a multiple choice question. But for Miguel there's only one correct answer.

"Protect her. I have to. She's everything to me."

Miguel is staring into the sunset bu all he sees before him is your face even though you aren’t here. The happy smile that he wants to preserve forever. He tries to fight the ache that's building in him at the thought that it would go away.

"Strange, don't tell her. Please. She doesn't need that burden."

He fists his palms into his side.

Miguel never liked asking for help, but even he knows that if what Strange is saying is true. That if the universe for some unfathomable reason wants you dead, then he's going to need all the help he can get.

If Strange has figured it out. Then it's only a matter of time before others do as well.

Soon enough, you won't just have the universe coming after you but every superhero and villain combined in a united front to take out the common threat that you pose to this entire universe.

Even Miguel knows he can't do this alone and as much as that helplessness tastes like failure and bile in his throat, he can swallow his pride if it helps keep you safe.

"Stephen, you have to help me save her."

From behind, Strange rests one hand on the corner of his shoulder. The weight of it feels like a promise being made. For the first time in a long time, Miguel feels like he can breathe just a little bit easier.

"I will do what I can, my friend."

Weeks go by. There are more incidents. Runaway vehicles that go haywire. Electrical storm fires. Rain of poisonous locusts.

Somehow he manages to protect you from it all.

It just means that he has to be more vigilant, that's all. The universe doesn't rest and neither does Miguel now. Lyla has been set on constant alert to wake him up whenever he's napping at any small signs of abnormal occurrences happening near you, with an electric shock to make sure he wakes. Something the A.I. is taking a worryingly amount of glee in (which probably means he needs to retune her programming when he has time).

And today, today Miguel was meant to have a Sunday lie in. Universe be willing, his goal was to sleep all the way into the late afternoon and then you had promised to take him to IHOP and get him all the pancakes he could eat for late breakfast.

But right now he's not asleep. He's trying to. But there are hushed words and whispered murmurs, buzzing in his ear that keeps trying to drag him away from sleep.

It's you and Strange.

Judging from the distance of the noises, you're both standing outside in the hall. The fact that you two are trying to be quiet makes it worse. If you'd spoken in normal volume he could tune it out as white noise, but the conspiratorial quietness of it all makes the hair on the back of his neck tingle with alertness.

Fuck's sake. He swears to god if you two are gossiping and making fun of Hercules’ costume (or the lack of it) again.

It's too early for this crap. Don't you two know that people are trying to sleep? He was up all night chasing crazy Kraven worshippers releasing animals from the Brooklyn zoo. Miguel had to gather wild zebras and crocodiles all the way down East Village til 4am.

With a groan, he drags himself halfway up along the mattress, about to go and growl at you both to be quiet, when the cluttered noises register as words and the fuzziness of sleep clears momentarily.

"He'd destroy this world for you."

Huh? What are you two talking about?

Miguel's too groggy to make sense of the context of what's being said. Even with his super hearing he has to focus to make out the words.

"You can't let him."

Irritated, he gets out of bed and walks to the front door to swing it open. The first thing he sees is you standing with Strange in the hallway. You jump at the suddenness and look up at him with wide eyes.

You have the worst poker face of anyone he's ever seen in his life.

"What are you two jabbering on about this damn early?" he asks.

He'd expected the two of you to act coy, maybe a clever 'wouldn't you like to know' retort back from the Mystic. Instead, Strange's face is entirely inscrutable, tone serious as he responds.

"We were just catching up. Nothing important. I need to head back," Strange says, then he turns to you with a meaningful tilt to his head. "Think about what I said."

"What was that about?" Miguel asks you as he watches Strange step through a portal and disappear.

You don't say anything. There's a worried frown etched between your eyebrows as you bite down on your lip.

Something crawls under Miguel's skin at the whole interaction.

You're oddly quiet the whole afternoon. Deep in thought and walking around as if in a daze, which unsettles him.

It's not difficult for him to guess what's wrong. He might have been half asleep when you and Strange were whispering in the corridors, but Miguel can put one and one together. Having two PHDs and a lifetime's experience of working in theoretical physics gives you that leg up.

In a last ditch effort to get you out of the uncharacteristic blues, he orders a dozen of your favorite cupcakes from that tiny shop in New Jersey. It costs an arm and a leg to have it couriered, but it'll be worth it if it makes you smile.

Then he sits down next to you on the bed and places the pink pastry box down on the mattress. It's your favorite place to eat cakes and it’s why you two always end up with crumbs and frosting all over the sheets.

You happily cram half a cupcake into your mouth in one bite as you eat, and he watches you contently. If there was any fairness in the world, this quiet idyllic moment could last forever. In a good world, Miguel wouldn’t have to burst this perfect bubble.

Sadly, this world is neither fair nor good sometimes.

"Strange said something to you right?" Miguel asks.

You still next to him, clearly torn between whether or not to share what was said to you, probably in secret with the very intention of being kept away from him.

“Nena,” Miguel tries again, and you close your eyes taking a deep breath, caving into his prodding.

"Strange thinks that my incidents might be correlated with the strange natural occurrences lately."

That fucking asshole. He knew it. Irritation pings across his jaw, and Miguel bites it down. He tries to reel it, forcing back the rant that wants to surface. Instead he tries to focus on you instead of his own anger.

"We don't know that. It could just be a series of coincidences," Miguel tells you.

You nod, but Miguel's not an idiot and neither are you. He can see the worry creasing your eyes as you look down to your lap.

Putting down the cupcake, he reaches over and links his right hand with yours.

"Nena, don't worry.” He cups his free hand over your cheek to drag you up to meet his eyes.

“I'll fight the whole universe to keep you safe if I have to. Nothing's ever going to harm you so long as I'm here. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you. You're the most important thing to me."

You smile at him at the words, but there's a wistfulness to it that embeds a dull ache in his chest that he wants to physically rub away to make it stop.

You lean into his touch, until your forehead presses up against his and the physical touch blunts the ache in him for a moment, putting it on pause.

"You’re the most important to me too," you say.

The sky itself cracks open not long after.

It doesn’t take the combined forces and intellect of the entire world too long to hone in on you being the root cause. Soon enough every superhero, mutant, villain and alien starts coming after you. Because hero or villain alike, no one truly wants their world to end, not if it’s not on their terms.

Mysterio tries to kidnap you by the elevator in your apartment building. The Human Torch even tries to burn the whole building down. The Punisher tries to murder you point blank outside your office.

Miguel can’t remember the last time he slept. He’s running on fumes. Day after day, he feels like he’s getting by on borrowed time.

The friends and allies you have thin out fast as the threats to the world increase in severity. Miguel never imagined having Deadpool standing outside his door stating that the life of one single person cannot outweigh the universe itself.

It’s all so stupid. None of them know what they’re talking about. A lynching mob with their torches and pitchforks. Never stopping to think whether harming you could trigger something much worse.

If Strange is right and you are the knot at the center of the fabric of reality that is coming apart, then ripping that out leaves a hole. Miguel gave up on explaining that fairly quickly because he realized that theoretical consequences doesn’t matter to an angry mob scared of facing the reality of extinction.

It all becomes a blur.

Exhaustion eats into his bones, until he can no longer tell the days apart. No matter how many times he saves you, disaster is always waiting just around the corner.

And now he’s chasing down the Green Goblin to the top of the Chrysler building from the 61st floor, where the green freak has cornered you to the edge of the rooftop.

Miguel is already out of breath, running away from the coalition of superheroes and villains that are hot on his heels, trying to stop him from saving you.

Adrenaline beats fast in his veins as he keeps running. Miguel is only able to make out those in pursuit in brief glimpses. The bright blue spandex suit of Reed Richards as his freakishly long elastic limbs stretch towards him. The blocks of metal hurtling towards Miguel, missing by inches and crashes into the side of a building as Magneto’s form hovers nearby.

He ignores them all, not sparing a glance behind him. He just has to keep moving. It doesn't matter that his muscles scream and burn in exhaustion. Doesn't matter that his head dulls with a heavy ache from lack of sleep. He has to keep going for you. Has to save you.

He's so close, he's almost there.

From the corner of his eyes, he makes out the familiar garish red flowing cape fluttering against the blue sky.

Strange.

Miguel marginally relaxes, at the sight of the sole ally he has left in this universe. He leaps across the rooftop, into the temporary safety of the observatory deck.

His feet doesn't even reach the ground. Something restrains him from behind. Bright lights materialize out of thin air. It wraps around Miguel's limb with the strength of unbreakable manacles, hugging him so tight it restricts the flow of blood to his fingers. Then he’s brought down to his knees.

Miguel whips his head back and Strange stands there, hands formed in a holding gesture.

“What are you–”

"I'm sorry," Strange says.

Miguel snarls at his restraints, wrenching and twisting in every direction he is able to even with the limited range of motion, but it's to no avail. The harder he struggles the more forceful the restraints seem to close in on him, mirroring his strength.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this. I really hoped there was another way but every life in the whole of the universe is at stake, Miguel."

Hot burning anger spears through him, and if he could he would raze it all to the ground with it. This place, this world and this fucking traitor standing there can all fucking burn. Miguel is gonna kill him. He's gonna kill this fucking bastard. He can't believe he trusted him.

“Strange, fucking let me… Stephen!”

He hears your pained shout and snaps his head towards the sound.

Miguel is only ten feet away from you. Ten measly feet from where the Green Goblin is holding you by the ledge of the rooftop. He can still reach you, if he can get free he can still save you.

Tearing through the magical binds, there’s a bone-cracking sound in his shoulder. Searing pain spreads through his arm. For all his struggles, he doesn't know if he’s even an inch closer towards you.

He watches you drop from the ledge.

It's a pin drop moment where everything stops. His heart is no longer beating.

No. This can't be how it ends.

He's moving forward, even as the sharp restraints digs into his limbs and flesh and burrows in with an excruciating ache. But the pain doesn't matter. All that matters is you.

It claws into him, and digs and tears, until he is sure that his entire limbs are going to be torn off, but he doesn't stop, keeps pulling against the resisting strength that surrounds him, rips against the hindrance embracing every ounce of the pain until finally, the pressure gives.

There's a cacophony of sound that's left behind him as he leaps through the air. He slingshots downwards, cutting through air as he tries to reach you.

Miguel catches your hand and relief fills his chest.

"I got you. I got you," he murmurs. He's not sure if those words are to calm you or himself.

Pulling you up in defiance of the pull of gravity, he tries to haul you up towards him. Your hand squirms in his, and if you keep going you're going to slip out of his grasp.

"Nena, don't move," he shouts in alarm, but you don't stop, twisting in all directions, making it harder for him to get a better grip.

What're you– You're resisting against his strength, why would you...

It hits him with a sickening realization.

You don' want him to save you.

"Stop!" he shouts. “Stop!”

You shake your head, tears filling the corner of your eyes that flow upwards and everything is upside down to him.

"We’re out of time. You have to let me go,” you say.

His fingers squeeze down even harder at your words, refusing to hear it.

“There's still time. There are still other options. I can still save you!”

Your hand reaches for the amulet pressed against your collarbone. Dread floods every nerve in his body as he sees your fingers squeeze around it.

"No!" He shouts. Screams it so loud it burns in his lungs. But deep down he knows it's not going to make any difference. "Nena, don't!"

The wind whips too loudly against his face. The sound of your heart pounding so painfully hard in his ear that it's deafening and he knows that sound will haunt him forever.

You're scared.

He sees your lips move, but he can't hear what you're saying.

But he's heard these words so many times before from your lips that he knows them by heart.

''I love you.''

An invisible force blasts away at him, it shatters through him through his limbs and torso into the very soft tissue of his stomach and makes his teeth shake. He's propelled upwards, unable to control his movements or defy the gravity that he's learned to navigate after all these years mid-air.

He holds on as hard as he can to your hand, but it doesn't matter. His fingers slip, his grip is lost.

You're falling through the sky.

Miguel doesn't remember much after that.

Somehow he makes it back onto the ground.

Somehow he finds you amongst the cracked dirty concrete.

Somehow, despite falling from over a 100 feet your body is still intact where it lies lifeless on the ground.

Your bones are broken though. Body limp and soft in his arms in a way that has never felt more wrong to him. His only consolation is that you're still warm in his arms, and he thinks that maybe if he just doesn't let go, if he holds you tightly pressed to him the way he is doing now, it'll remain that way forever.

The sky has cleared above. There are no cracks in the azure blue canvas.

This world is saved.

His world has ended.

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To @thirstworldproblemss who has been with me on this journey since chapter one without her enthusiasm and her companionship and friendship and listening to my wild ramblings about this story, I would never have set out to write this thing. She gave me so much joy in the process, she also gave me her time and her skills and brainy talent to help me process and brainstorm this into a shape that I was excited to share with you all! You also have her to thank for that devastating last line.

@guruan who has been a constant well of inspiration with her amazing art, her bright sense of humor and her sharing of theories of what's going to happen! You've made writing this story so much fun!

Author's note: Here we go guys, we've officially entered the final arc now. With only three chapters to go! I am so excited to share the remaining puzzle pieces with you all!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #marvel #marvel mcu #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x you

769 notes · View notes

deathmetalunicorn1 · 5 months

Note

*more cute!*

Child reader dressed up as the gods?

-They felt a powerful aura, one that intimidated them, but it was from something unknown, they had no idea where it was coming from.

-There had been a plot in the making, one that could prove to be either something joyous or something dangerous.

-He had been in his room, curious about this unknown feeling of dread before a knock came to the door, soft, like it was the knock of a child, and he instantly knew that it was you.

-He smiled warmly, knowing that you weren’t dangerous- you were the farthest thing from dangerous! That’s what he told himself as he approached the door, smiling warmly at the thought of seeing you.

-He couldn’t speak, his eyes wide, as he saw you beaming brightly up at him, dressed exactly like him, you even tried to style your hair like him. He slowly sunk to his knees, seeing more of the details of your (child friendly) outfit as you gave him a twirl, “Do you like it? I wanted to dress up like you because you’re my favorite person!” His vision quickly went dark before a bright light was seen in the distance as he resigned himself to his fate, happy to die after seeing something so adorable!

-Hades, Hermes, Shiva, Hercules, Zeus, and Buddha

-His smile was very apparent as he swept you into his arms, hugging you close, making you squeal warmly before you beamed, “Do you like it? I wanted to dress up like you because you’re my favorite person!” his smile only grew, while he didn’t say much, but he felt so much warmth in his chest from you words and actions.

-Thor, Odin, Poseidon, and Beelzebub

-Was inconsolable for at least fifteen minutes, taking hundreds of photographs while ugly sobbing, overwhelmed with happiness at how adorable you looked. You unintentionally made it worse when you told him, “Do you like it? I wanted to dress up like you because you’re my favorite person!” You truly were a very dangerous person.

-Ares, Loki, and Apollo

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror poseidon #ror hades #ror loki #ror buddha #ror thor #ror heracles #ror odin #ror zeus #ror hermes #ror shiva #ror beelzebub #ror apollo

387 notes · View notes

weirdly-specific-but-ok · 3 months

Text

hey maggots PLEASE CALM DOWN ONE MOMENT PRESS CONFERENCE.

Okay. Have we stopped screaming? Okay, nice. *taps mic* Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your--I mean, hi, Good Omens fandom and maggots. I was going to make a new intro post eventually, but after you all flattened my notes with eldritch screeching I think a press conference is more fitting. Especially considering the phrasing of these beauties:

Maggots I love you but look me in the eyes and tell me you're not journalists reporting straight to the Times, with full honesty. You cannot. The how do you feel about this is only missing several microphones with news outlet names all in my face and that's wonderful. Entirely valid. Press conference time it is.

First, for those of you who do not need a Q and A, a quick note: Um hello maggots, yes I am still grieving, cheers to the people who queued sad Good Omens posts for the exact time I finished watching. That is dedication, truly, to torturing your mascot. A most sincere fuck you to all of those kind folks.

Next, Neil, thank you for showcasing my madness. I barely remember making that updated post. It was 2 am and I tried to convince myself it was a bad idea. So of course I did it anyway and now I am staring in horror at how unhinged I have revealed myself to be. You picked the most perfectly awful time to delve into the fray. I raise my glass to you.

Alright. For everyone else who is utterly confused and/or has just entered this madness, below is the press conference you have instigated, my loves.

You: ASMI WAKE UP NEIL REBLOGGED YOU. Me: I'M AWAKE I PROMISE THANK YOU ALL THE TWENTY ODD PEOPLE WHO SHOUTED FOR ME TO WAKE UP, YES I WAS NAPPING. BUT I AM AWAKE. IT IS DIFFICULT NOT TO BE. You: HOW DOES IT FEEL BEING LESS THAN A MONTH IN THE FANDOM AND-- Me: I was kidnapped, so with the blindfold and all the ropes, I'll be honest, I lost track of time. It could have been less than a month. *stares into distance* It could have been eighty years since Jan 4th 2024. You: YOU'RE AN ADOPTIVE MAGGOT. Me: Now hang on one second y'all you're stealing my term. I coined maggots to describe all the people, in the Good Omens fandom or otherwise, who kidnapped me or followed me or watched me descend into madness. Why? Because I was made the Mascot of the fandom, and Maggot sounded like Mascot. Kind of. I didn't know at that time that there was a bloody maggot scene in Good Omens. I also didn't know that apparently in the Bible, Bildad the Shuite calls mortals 'maggots'. But either way. I'm the adopted mascot. And the adopted child of divorce. You: If people who follow you or watch your descent are maggots, does that make Neil a maggot? Me: Uh okay I've got this question several times. @neil-gaiman, Neil I'm sorry, I'm going to pass this question to you. You are free to reply or not as you choose. *hands one of the mics over* You: ARE YOU OKAY, ASMI? Me: THANK YOU FOR CHECKING IN. *clutches Crowley even closer* NO I AM BLOODY NOT. I'M ON DAY FOUR OF GRIEVING AFTER THE SECOND SEASON. ANY MENTION OF POTTED PLANTS MAKES ME EMOTIONAL. THE GOOD OMENS BOOK IS ARRIVING TODAY IN THE MAIL, THANKS JEFF BEZOS FOR AMAZON. OH WAIT AMAZON IS THE STREAMER FOR GOOD OMENS. THANKS BEZOS AGAIN. IF I HEAR THE WORDS RITZ, EDINBURGH, PLANT, RED, BLACK, DEMON, HELL, STARS, CONSTELLATIONS, ESPRESSO, I WILL START TO UGLY CRY. *SHOVES MICS ASIDE, RUNS THROUGH THE CROWD TO GO SOB IN A CORNER ABOUT CROWLEY IN EDINBURGH NEXT TO ELSPETH AND WEE MORAG UNTIL THE GOOD OMENS BOOK ARRIVES AND I CRY OVER MY BABY ANTICHRIST AS WELL*

Cheers everyone conference over because your poor Good Omens Mascot is currently incapacitated with grief goodbye I'm sure you understand--

233 notes · View notes

spectr3inl0ve · 3 months

Note

please more age gap Bruce Wayne PLEASEOLEASEPLASEPLEASEPLEASE

YES OFC ML!!! HERES CRADLE ROBBER!BRUCE WAYNE TELLING READER HES BATMAN (expanding on this post)

you and alfred are the only people in the manor, it's almost midnight. you know this because alfred let you in, telling you everyone's absent after you ask where they are. making your way up to bruces room, you take note of the stillness, the absence of noise, chaos. you silently open the double doors into the masterbedroom, and sit on the edge of the bed.

bruces presence has becoming more and more scarce in the past two months, and in a couple weeks you would be celebrating six months together. he's been more fatigued as well, and there's been countless unexplainable injuries - and some of them weren't of the smaller kind either. it's gotten to the point where bruce would sometimes wince when you touch him, brushing it off with 'muscle pain' until you lift his shirt to reveal a swelling bruise or a cut or graze. "you know how clumsy I am, baby." he smiles, and he's right, you do know. he's not clumsy. he's hardly ever available at night, and the 'date night' plans turn into a brunch on Saturday instead.

all of this makes you start questioning and overthinking your entire relationship, was he seeing someone on the side? are you not good enough? did you do something wrong? no. you didnt. couldn't have. you're as good as it gets and you know it, he knows it. even the tabloids are noticing how unhappy you're looking, always slightly pouting, perhaps a bit more clingy; always tailing bruce like a lost puppy.

tears form, and you do nothing to stop them. it's been a while since you've had a good cry. and as Steph says, "even a girlboss needs to cry!". and you completely agree. you let out all of your bottled up emotions out, sniffles turning into heavy sobs, but quiet enough to keep alfred from worrying.

through your overthinking and sobbing, you don't hear bruces heavy footsteps, and you don't hear him when he opens the double doors to his room. you do however, hear him when he gently calls your name. blood rushing to you cheeks, you stop your sobbing, wiping your nose. but you don't face him. bruce moves toward you swiftly, sitting down next to you and scooping you up into his arms, placing you onto his lap so you face him. he sees you actively avoiding his eyes, so he places a gentle, but firm hand on you jaw and guides your face to look at him. "what's got you crying, huh, pretty?" the nerve of him..."you." you hiss, furrowing your eyebrows. his face grows solemn, the colour draining. you see this as a sign to rant to him about whay he's done. and you do. you go off on him, yelling, hitting his chest and ugly crying. he just listens, nodding every now and then in acknowledgement. his calmness irks you, "do you have anything to say for yourself, bruce?" you cry into his chest, soaking his black tshirt with tears and mascara. you resurface, resembling a panda with the way your mascara smudged around your eyes. bruce, reading the room, bites back his smile and instead let's out a long sigh.

with his arms around her still, he stands, keeping her steady. "gotta show you something. you might not like it though..." the vagueness of it worries you even more. he retracts his arms from you, taking your hand and leading you to his office. while you stare off into the distance, bruce does fiddles around (I forgot how he enters the batcave thru the office 😭) and then the bookshelf reveals a secret elevator. your jaw drops as he leads you into it, pressing the button to go down. a few moments later, the elevator stops and opens, revealing a high tech...basement? cave? he steps out, you do the same. you notice how cold it is, wrapping your arms around yourself, "...what is this...? I don't understand.". the tears start up again, and this time youre unsure why. bruce comfortingly rubs your back, shushing you gently. "I...I'm...batman." he says quietly.

it takes a moment for you to process what you heard. "so you're not cheating on me...?" you sniff, looking around you. bruce goes red, oh. that's what you thought? he shakes his head, "no, sweetheart. never." he guides you toward the batcomputer, letting you play around a bit as he watches. if bruce is batman...does that mean.. "so...damian is robin? and the others are...?" you look at him with a quizzical look, sniffling. he gives me a small smile, "yeah, baby." "that explains a lot." you hit his chest and chuckle.

hope this was alr, please send asks abt cradle robber!bruce wayne or dick or jason!!!

#°○☆spectr3inl0ve #cradle robber!bruce wayne #monty loves dc #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne headcanon #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne smut #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne #batman x reader #batman x reader imagine #ignore these tags im just trying to get more reach #jason todd x reader #jason todd x reader smut #dick grayson headcanon #dick grayson x you #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #red hood headcanon

331 notes · View notes

twstjam · 9 months

Text

Unforeseen

HAHA it's not a Matcha fic if it isn't edited and posted at 2-3 AM amirite I don't know what this is I was just brainrotting about Malleyuu + Yuu and Sebek friendship + my take on post-NRC and this is what came out of it. I INITIALLY planned to only write the first and last parts but then my brain decided that it would be a good idea to come up with all the other shit in between and now this mess exists 👍 This also features a few theories and hcs based on Book 7 Chapter 4 lore, like how Malleus hatched and how Draconia babies are made. Summary: Sebek goes missing and with Malleus's first child with you on the way the prince is anxious about the affects of unexpected events on his family and the future.

----

There aren't many things that can scare a dragon.

But then correspondence from Sebek's party stops, and Malleus swears his blood freezes.

He's sure he wears out the floor with his pacing, blood humming with restless surges of magic and throat hot with the urge to release fire as he waits with patience that wears thinner by the hour. Silver stands in the doorway, the disapproving gaze he'd imagine on his father reflected exactly on the guard's face as he tells Malleus to go to bed.

Malleus would laugh at the irony if he didn't instead begin to worry about the emptiness he'd leave next to his spouse if he remains awake until dawn again. Well, not that you'd be entirely alone.

Your arms are encircled around a massive black egg, held close to your chest like you used to do with the monster cat curled up against it. Grim rumbles like a motorboat, the only sound that remains when Malleus enters the bedroom and all conversation is halted.

You sit up, not without keeping some part of you touching the egg in some way, eyes alight with hope. Malleus's heart sinks at the way your expression falls at the frown he wears.

Referring to you and Sebek as "close" would be an understatement. Since your first day at the castle, the both of you have practically been attached at the hip, falling back into the familiar roles of your years together as students at Night Raven College. Malleus would call it an imitation of Sebek's excessive devotion to him back in those years if it weren't more personal; the two of you are often whispering secrets or nonsense, laughing, bantering, and smiling with each other despite your roles as guard and master. It's nothing like how Malleus is guarded and he sometimes finds himself feeling the ugly curl of envy at the thought.

Malleus can't fault Sebek for keeping his distance. He knows that his role as the future king forms a boundary between them that cannot and should not be crossed, but that doesn't mean that Malleus is any less upset about it.

Sebek isn't with you now though, and neither is he with Malleus, nor Silver. Malleus remembers a time like yesterday (at least to him) when Sebek would sob upon being torn from Malleus's side, but he recalls that on the day of the guard's departure, he had been insistent. Dedicated, as always, to anything and everything that would keep his lord and friend safe. You'd hugged him goodbye and waved him off cheerily, grin wide as you shouted at him to "Don't forget the souvenirs!"

"I'm doing reconnaissance, not going on a vacation," Sebek had groaned when you'd told him the same thing prior, shooting Silver a glare when the other man had muttered under his breath, "Seven knows you need one." He had redirected it, tired and pleading at Malleus when the prince had laughed.

(Malleus tries to remember what it was like; laughing. When he had lamented this aloud, you had called him a Drama Queen, but that doesn't mean you're any less worn with worry even if you don't share his admittedly exaggerated sentiment.)

"We should just go look for 'im!" Grim grouches, disguising his own worry behind drained patience at everyone's trepidation. He's practically your other half, (and more in tune with your feelings than Malleus is, he'd begrudgingly admit.) so he's as tied to Sebek as you are.

""We"?" Malleus questions sharply at your nod of agreement.

"The longer we go without a word from him the less I think I can wait, Tsuno," you plead. Malleus looks down at you understandingly, but his eyes are sad as he places a careful hand on the egg nestled in your arms. Guilt crosses your face, but the determination remains in your eyes.

"Stay with the egg," you tell him with finality, but if anyone can fight you on this it's Malleus.

"I care for Sebek, truly." Malleus cuts you off when you open your mouth to argue that I didn't say you don't— "But I will not risk the chance of our child growing without either of us by their side."

It's something that he has a firm stance on and you know that you can't ever argue with it, even if you're not willing to give up the vision in your mind of both Silver and Sebek also being by their side when they hatch. You curl up around the egg further, resigned, even as you murmur, "What do we do, then?"

"We wait," Malleus says, apologetic as he gathers his child, the love of his life, and their cherished animal companion in his arms. He curls his tail around them protectively despite his family being in the safety of his arms and his nest. He can feel Grim vibrating with unrelenting purrs against his chest, the furry little beast squishing his face against the egg as he kneads little biscuits over its curved surface. You settle with your head against Malleus's chest, dissatisfied but resigned.

----

Malleus watches you shriek when you lay your eyes on Ace and Deuce right before you bowl them over to the floor in excitement and he knows he made the right call inviting them to the castle.

Few humans ever set foot on the castle floors, not many fae keen on just the idea of it, but Malleus is the future king and he can do whatever the Hell he wants and that includes letting your friends come over for a few days to cheer you up, traditions be damned.

With Ace and Deuce around, the castle is alive in a way it hasn't been in weeks. It's not just a product of their making but yours as well, the three of you along with Grim at your heels always up to something in the castle when you're all together. Malleus is more than happy to watch over the egg as you catch up with your friends, but that doesn't mean he's free from your attention any less.

"How much longer is it gonna take for it to hatch?" Ace says in both amazement and curiosity while Deuce tries to wrap his head around the concept of a magically conceived and hatched egg (It's not really that complicated. Malleus can't understand what might be so confusing about it.). They're both standing around the egg at a distance but still closer than anyone else you and Malleus have allowed in the unborn heir's presence.

(That is, if he doesn't count Silver and Sebek.)

"Like, half a year, or something like that." You tilt your head up at him for confirmation. "Right?"

"Indeed," Malleus crows proudly, hand smoothing over the egg's shell. Grim hops up onto Malleus's lap and rubs up against the egg, butting up into Malleus's palm when he raises it to pet him. You smile with excitement, lips pulled between your teeth as you hop in your seat across from them.

"I can't wait," you chirp, linking your arms with your friends' and bouncing them along with you. "You guys have to be there when it happens, so make sure you've got nothing going on."

"Oh, you bet," Ace laughs, eyes shining with mirroring eagerness.

"Are you kidding? Like we'd miss your kid being born! Uh.... hatched?" Deuce muses.

Malleus hums, pleased at their assent, hands cradling the egg's sides lovingly. Along with Ace and Deuce, you were also planning to invite your other old friends from NRC to witness the hatching, which Malleus had agreed to without missing a beat.

Though he hadn't even been a minute old, Malleus remembers his own hatching. He doesn't think he can ever forget it; the overbearing loneliness as he broke the shell and gazed into tearful red eyes. Despite the waves of love that had urged him to come out, the room had been so empty except for the fae that had coaxed him out of his eggshell.

Malleus doesn't wish for such an experience to ever be known to his children.

He knows the image you see in your head of your child's hatchday, can see you proudly presenting his heir to the eager eyes of your friends. He can see them all now, gathered around you with the privilege to lay eyes on the future ruler of Briar Valley before anyone else; Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho... and Sebek.

Malleus's fingers curl, claws lightly scraping against the shell of his child's egg.

Sebek will be there. He knows that you haven't given that up in your mind, and neither will he.

----

Malleus still remembers the day, a year or so ago, when the two of you had finally announced that an egg had been successfully conceived.

His grandmother was the first to come see it, of course. She had manifested, eyes wild and frantic, in a burst of green flames. She at least had had the decency to appear outside of his and your chambers instead of coming right in, but the moment Malleus opened the door to greet her she was brushing right past him.

It was the first time you and Malleus (and possibly anyone really) had seen Briar Queen Maleficia so emotional. You had awkwardly patted her back in an attempt to soothe her surging emotions, but it had instead gotten you pulled into a stifling hug that had you breathless. Malleus had watched with both amusement and tears in his eyes as his grandmother murmured "thank you"s to you over and over on repeat while you reached for him with your arms, silently begging for assistance.

After that, it was time to introduce the egg to the rest of his family.

Though it wasn't her egg, Maleficia had to be convinced to allow other people close to it, relenting with a pout. She remained in the room though, so when you had returned with Silver and Sebek in tow, her presence was the first thing that they registered. Sebek had gotten so caught up with stuttering formalities that he didn't even notice the egg for a full five minutes.

Everybody else in the room were already prepared for when he finally did, hands held over ears round and pointed alike as he screeched in surprise.

"An egg! You have an egg?!" he'd screamed in disbelief. You'd laughed as he grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you. "I'm not dreaming, am I?! Please tell me I'm not—!"

"You're not—!!!" you'd shouted, and the two of you had both shrieked with glee as Sebek picked you up and spun you around the air. He had chanted his congratulations while you vigorously repeated "Thank you!"s.

He had put you down awkwardly when he remembered again that Maleficia was in the room, clearing his throat and recollecting his composure while you continued to giggle. His joy was so infectious though that it even had Maleficia cracking a smile despite being in the face of some of her subjects.

"Do I not get a hug also?" Malleus had tried to be lighthearted but he couldn't help the pout on his face. Though he was reluctant and still alert to presence of the queen, Sebek had relented and given him the privilege. It wasn't anything like the hug he had given you, but it was meaningful and personal nonetheless. Silver had joined at Malleus's beckoning and the prince had held them both close, so many words of relief and gratitude going unspoken but communicated between the three of them nonetheless through one shared gesture.

Malleus had looked up at the quiet shuttering of a ghost camera and saw you show a polaroid to his grandmother with a proud grin.

"Could you perhaps make a duplicate of that for me?" she had mused.

----

Malleus is unsure if Ortho's surprise visit to the castle could be considered a pleasant one. Perhaps, if it were under different circumstances. Perhaps, if he had returned with Sebek and he wasn't practically painted with injuries.

Malleus was in the middle of his duties when he had found out. He had been discussing with the council the search itself for Sebek and his party when a member of the castle staff burst through the door and unceremoniously interrupted the meeting. They were quickly forgiven when they'd frantically informed him that Sir Zigvolt had finally returned.

Malleus had torn through the halls in a billow of black robes, legs carrying him thoughtlessly to his destination, eyes like green spotlights in the dimly-lit halls. The servants parted and made way for him wordlessly.

When he finally arrives, both you and Grim are already there, sitting by Sebek's bedside and on his lap respectively while Ortho hovers at his other side. Malleus is momentarily relieved that you'd been informed first, but then he sees the state Sebek is in and he's next to you in an instant.

Sebek's slit pupils dart to him for the briefest second before looking away with a grimace. He seems to sink further into the pillows cushioning his back at his sitting position, shame evident in his eyes and the way his lips are twisted in a way that morphs the cuts and bruises on his face.

"My liege—" he rasps, and the fire in Malleus's chest roars and pulls.

"Silence," he commands, a little too sharply and it aches how Sebek shrinks further into himself. Malleus sucks in a breath and forces himself to calm down. He sits down on the bed, holds out his hand, and speaks, softer this time, "Be still."

Sebek opens his mouth to retort but you shoot him a reprimanding look that has him going quiet again. Malleus notices how Sebek doesn't retreat from you and he feels that familiar pang of jealousy again.

Now is not the time for such trivial matters, boy. Your family is hurt. a voice chides him in his head. He holds his hand over Sebek's face, and though the halfling twitches slightly in discomfort, he closes his eyes to the warmth of Malleus's magic as his injuries begin to heal.

As Sebek relaxes, the tension easing further out of him as his pain fades away, Ortho begins to explain what had happened, how he had found Sebek, and why.

As it turns out, the treacherous group that Sebek's party was sent to observe was also being investigated by S.T.Y.X.. Sebek and his group had gotten ambsuhed and captured— At this, your hand tightens further around Sebek's much larger one. It draws Malleus's attention, and a low growl escapes him at the redness of iron burns peeking ever-so-slightly from beneath Sebek's sleeve.— and when Ortho had discovered this, he had gone in and rescued them as fast as he could. Sebek's injuries had been worse, apparently, and there was only so much Ortho could do with his built-in medical procedures in such a short amount of time.

The young humanoid seems to sag defeatedly at this, but you're quick to reassure him that "No, you did great. I mean it, Orr. Thank you."

Even Sebek had opened his eyes to shoot Ortho a reprimanding yet grateful look.

"I can confirm. I might not be here currently if it were not for your action, Ortho."

Ortho's eyes go wide at this and he scrubs at them with the heel of his palm as dribbles of liquid stain his cheeks.

"Y-You're going to activate my crying simulation again, Sebek!" he chokes out. He suddenly looks up, teary eyes meeting Malleus's, and Sebek looks like he wants to stop him from speaking but he's too late as Ortho blurts out, "I hope you are not disappointed in him, Malleus Draconia, though I don't think that you are! Regardless, you should know that Sebek was really cool, even though he was the one being rescued! He was suffering from severe iron burns and yet he stood up to the enemy captain anyway and bit his arm off when he tried to grab me! It was like he was the hero!"

An embarrassed blush spreads over Sebek's cheeks at Ortho's retelling, his flustered gaze suddenly finding interest in Grim's silky fur beneath his fingers. Despite his demeanor, his voice is as sure as ever as he says, "Well, of course I couldn't just stand there and let you be hurt after all the trouble you went through because of my blunder!"

At this statement, Malleus turns to him questioningly. "Sebek—"

"It was due to my shortcomings that we were captured, Lord Malleus," Sebek admits, shamefully and yet boldly as he looks up to finally meet his master's eyes. "It was my fault. The solution was so simple. If only I had...." Sebek's brow furrows in frustration, his fists clenching, the one holding your hand wrapping around your fingers fiercely. "If only I was—"

"Sebek," Malleus says, gently yet firmly, a mere mimicry of your reassuring tone, but it works to cut Sebek off before he begins his tangent. "That does not matter."

His hands draw downwards, brushing against yours before carefully wrapping around Sebek's wrists. Sebek inhales sharply at the sting of contact but eases again at the warmth of healing magic.

"What matters now is that everyone is safe. Is that you are safe. That you have returned to us."

He knows it's selfish. As prince, he knows it's unfair and unwise to be so forgiving of one of his guards' failures— A single wrong move could mean the downfall of the entire kingdom, after all— but Malleus finds that he doesn't care. He finds that, with Sebek back in the safety of the castle, with his family— All of his family— back in the safety of his arms, he doesn't care.

After weeks of worry and weariness and heavy thoughts of paranoia and doubt, Malleus for the first time feels a weight lift off his shoulders and it's like he can breathe again. He remembers again the feeling of relief.

Your hand that's not holding Sebek's reach for one of Malleus's. He accepts it gratefully, looking down to return your equally relieved smile, but when he meets your eyes, the expression on your face is not what he expects.

Instead of warmth, instead of anxiety flooding out of you and tears gathering in your eyes, your expression is cold and detached; eyes distant, lips pulled firmly into a thin line, and brows fighting to not draw down in what he knows would be the most fearsome glare he's ever seen in his years of living.

There aren't many things that can scare a dragon, but right now, as he watches you, the barely-restrained fury on your face and the chilling desire for damnation in your eyes, Malleus feels the fire in his chest snuff out, retreating to make way for the real beast.

323 notes · View notes