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charliemwrites · 4 months

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Woof woof grrrrrr

CW for dub con, stay safe everyone <3

The bar is exactly as busy as you’re hoping for when you get there. Quiet and intimate, low lights, a hum of conversation but not overwhelmingly loud. The bar is mostly full but not crowded. As luck would have it, you instantly spot a couple empty stools towards the back.

You glide across the establishment, head held high and shoulders back. Pick a seat and smooth your skirt under you to perch. The bartender comes to you instantly; you pick something sweet and fruity (delighted that it’ll match your outfit.)

It takes up until they slide it across to you — a tab opened with your card — that the insecurity starts to set in. What if no one is interested? What if Soap doesn’t show up?

You sip at your drink and pull out your phone, reading your latest book. If nothing else… at least you’re getting out? God.

“This isn’t your usual scene.”

Oh. Oh this is worse than being ignored all night and going home alone. So much worse. Just barely manage not to curse aloud as you turn to your ex.

“Justin…” you start, realize you don’t know where to go from there. “Hi.”

“It’s been a minute, huh?”

You look him up and down. Designer everything, of course, brands printed all over him. No taste, though, none of it is cohesive. You wouldn’t be caught dead at his side ever again.

“How’s your arm?”

His expression flickers, hand unconsciously going to the spot where Johnny tried to tear it off.

“Fine. Thanks.” He gives you a long look. Unfriendly. “You know people have had dogs put down for less.”

You run your tongue over your teeth, fear and anger twisting up in your stomach like hot lava. How dare he threaten your boy like that?! Wish Johnny was here now to take another chunk out of him.

“Not when people trespass on private property,” you reply coldly, eyes narrowing.

He puts his hands up, laughing awkwardly. “Well, now. I wouldn’t call it — let’s just say we’re even, yeah?”

“For that at least.”

You take another big sip of your drink. Find it empty. Make hopeful eye contact with the bartender and nod for another when they gesture questioningly. There’s a reason you love this bar.

“Right… listen, about that, luv…”

“There you are, bonnie!”

You perk up despite yourself. Says something that the creep who sexually harasses you in public is better company than your ex-fiancé. Something zings through you when you realize Soap is bigger than your Justin (hopefully in every aspect). Taller, wider, more muscular. Better jawline and prettier eyes, too.

“Tucked up back here like this,” Soap mock scolds, shouldering past Justin. You let out a little squeak as he scoops you off your barstool, hand just under your ass for a hold. “Almost didn’t see you, hen.”

“H-Hi,” you say, arms going around his neck automatically. He presses his nose to your collarbone and audibly inhales. You shiver.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he continues, voice dropping lower.

He sets you down on your stool again with a wink, then takes the stool next to yours.

“Oi, do you mind?” Justin snaps, bumped out of the way by Soap’s bulk.

“I do, actually.” The look Soap levels him is sharp, cold. Bloody killer. Instantly reminds you of all the alarm bells that normally play in your head when he’s around. “Don’t like puffed up knobs like you around my girl.”

You bite your tongue on a protest that you’re not his girl. Wouldn’t be particularly helpful right about now. You’ll correct him later.

“Your girl,” Justin scoffs. “She was mine before she was ever — hey!”

Soap’s got his fist in the front of Justin’s shirt, jerking him nearly off his feet. A few heads turn. You feel hot with embarrassment, skin prickling at so many eyes on your little trio of stupidity.

“Woah!” You yelp. “Soap!”

You grab his forearm (remind yourself not to get distracted by the muscles cording it) and lean into his line of sight. The near-murderous glint in his blue eyes softens, though there’s still an unnatural sheen to them. Something that makes the hair on the back of your head stand on end.

“Soap, let him go,” you say, quiet. “I like this bar, don’t get us kicked out… please?”

He hums, instantly drops Justin to cup his hand around the back of your neck, fingers edging into your hair. His palm feels so big and harm, a little rough with callouses. You try not to think about how easy it would be for him to manipulate your head however he wants…

“Like when you say ‘please,’ hen,” Soap purrs.

You swallow, feel your cheeks flushing as you say, “Then… you should sit down and have a drink with me. Please?”

He grins, crooked and a little mean. “Anythin’ fer you.”

He drops into his stool again like a king on his throne. You perch gingerly on your own, waving Justin away like an annoying fly. Don’t even look as he slinks off, too busy staring at Soap. Who’s… busy staring at you. As always.

“You never called,” he drawls after ordering. Whiskey, neat. The bartender sets your new drink in front of you; you start sipping to gather your thoughts and nerve. “Lucky I happened to stop in here, eh? Imagine if I’d walked past…”

You grimace a bit. A fantastic bit of luck, that. Thought you’re still not sure what type of luck.

Definitely not going to admit to him that you didn’t call on purpose, wanting plausible deniability if you did see him. As if trying to get him under your skirt by happenstance is better than calling him to do it.

“Why did you stop in here?” You ask, looking to change the subject.

“Could smell you,” he answers, eyes twinkling.

You wrinkle your nose, kick at his shin. Want to blame it on the alcohol, but you drink red wine most nights of the week. This is just… placebo and desperation.

“You’re so nasty, you know that?” You huff.

He arches his eyebrows, grins wolfishly. “Could show you how nasty I can be,” he offers.

You wrinkle your nose even as your cheeks burn. That’s exactly what you’re hoping for.

“You can’t keep talking to me like that,” you complain.

He snorts in amusement, hooking his fingers beneath your stool and tugging you closer. Until your knees are between both of his, jeans brushing against your thighs.

“Here’s the thing, darlin’,” he murmurs, low and private. “I think you like when I talk to you like that.”

You swallow audibly, hands dropping down to twist nervously in your lap.

“I think it makes your pretty pussy all wet and swollen when I get all mean like this,” he continues. You shake your head; his palm clamps down on your thigh beneath your skirt, thumb sweeping back and forth over the sensitive skin. “Think she’s fuckin’ aching fer me to make good on all my promises. And you can get all shy and sweet here, but I bet all your cunt wants is to be mounted and bred like a bitch in heat.”

And he’s right. Of course he’s fucking right. That goddamn bad guy fantasy and your shallow, needy pussy, and Soap’s stupid fucking everything.

You feel like you’re about to explode when the bartender sets his whiskey down, snapping the tension like a rubber band. Feel dizzy as you lean away, sipping desperately at your own drink in an attempt to cool off. He gives you all over maybe fifteen second before opening that sinful mouth again.

“So how about it, bonnie? Did I hit the mark?”

You feel frustrated tears pricking at your eyes. Blink and look away at your nervous hands.

“I-I don’t even know you,” you mutter. “You could be dangerous.”

“I am dangerous, baby,” he replies, “just not to you.”

You shake your head. “You’re awful.”

“Mm and you want me to do awful things to you.”

You sigh through your nose, that little logical voice blaring again. He’s going to hurt you. He’s going to use you.

(Would that be so bad, if you go in knowing it?)

A tug at your necklace startles you out of your thoughts, his finger hooked beneath the pendant. You lean in with a noise of protest, afraid he’s going to break it. Gasp as your lips brush his.

“Whatever’s goin’ on in that pretty head, let me fuck it out of you.”

You shudder, hand balanced on his thick, muscular thigh. Can feel a twitch near your thumb. Holy shit.

“I’ll be so good to you, princess,” he promises. “Let me be good to you.”

You suck in a breath. Now or never.

Well, if nothing else, maybe you’ll let Johnny eat him if he’s turns out to be a bastard.

“Prove it,” you breathe.

He guides your chin up, eyes blazing with hunger.

“Yeah?” He asks.

You blink, muster up your courage. “You heard me. Or are you back out?”

His expression goes deliciously dark. “Oh, I’ll prove it, lass. You just sit right here and I’ll get us sorted.”

His fingers slip just that last little bit up and start teasing at the lace of your panties. You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to sip at your cocktail while he flags down the bartender. His nails scrape lightly across the fabric over your clit as gets your card and throws down enough cash to cover all three drinks.

When he pulls his hand away, you have to bite back a whimper.

“If you don’t get up right now, I’m haulin’ you out of here over my shoulder,” he growls in your ear.

You’re up in an instant, smoothing down your skirt. His hand stays glued to your lower back as he ushers you out to the lot. Sits you down in the passenger seat of a black pickup, barely waits for you to buckle yourself in before peeling out of the lot.

You’re about to tell him your address when you hear the clink of a belt, a zipper. Eyes wide as they drop to his pants, to him fishing a huge, hard cock out of jeans.

“C’mere,” he near snarls.

“Soap, that’s not— mph!”

The head of his cock catches on your teeth, but that only seems to spur him on, hips twitching.

“Gonna ruin that pretty makeup, your pretty hair. Gettin’ all dolled up like that for any fucking wanker to see.”

He twists his fingers in your hair and presses you down, your cheek rubbing against the shaft. He feels huge and unnaturally hot. You press your thighs together as you imagine how it’s going to feel inside of you.

“This isn’t safe,” you complain, mouth open as you gasp against the flushed skin.

He curses, tugs you up so that your lips press against the head, already dripping. Your eyes widen in the darkness, shocked and flattered that you’ve already worked him up this much.

“Not gonnae let anything happen,” he promises, “but you need to convince me not to spank this pretty ass black and blue.”

You squeal as he releases you hair just to deliver a harsh smack to one ass cheek, the sting making you clench up.

“H-hey!”

“You want me to slap that pretty pussy too? Bet I could make you cum just tapping that little clit over and over again. That what you want, slag?”

“N-no!”

“Then show me.”

You seal your mouth around the head, sucking and licking at the precum beading at the tip. Try to brace yourself, nearly gag as he hits a pothole and shoves into your throat. It’s noisy and messy, eyes watering from how thick and deep he is already, not letting you up for more than brief gasps of air.

“Fuck, that’s it baby. Work your tongue just like that…” he groans.

You lose track of everything but trying not to gag, his threat lingering with each obscene slurp and twist of your tongue. He tastes better than you expected, and the scent of him surrounds you. Musk and pine, something familiar that niggles at your cock-drunk brain. Can’t be bothered to work it out though, not when he’s tugging your hair. Not when he comes to an abrupt stop and you deepthroat him.

He yanks you off with a near-animal growl. You whine, scrambling to brace yourself and panting. Your head feels foggy. Know your panties are soaked through; shocked you’re not dripping down your leg. If you were sitting properly, you’d probably leave a wet mark on the seat.

You moan as his mouth crashes into yours, tongue sweeping inside like he owns it. He licks the taste of himself off your tongue, hands fumbling your seatbelt off, dragging you over the center console to straddle his lap.

You gasp at the sight of his rock hard, angry cock next to your pretty dress, pressed up against your stomach. Show just how deep he’ll be inside your guts.

“Fuck, look’it that,” he groans rutting against your stomach. “Oh you were made to be mine.”

You scream as he scoops you up, stepping out of the truck with you over his shoulder.

“Soap!” You shout. “Soap, put me down, my dog—”

“I’m your fuckin’ dog,” he replies.

“No, seriously, he’s protective—”

He grabs the spare out of its hiding place and shoves the door open. You brace for angry barking and growls, but hear nothing. Soap doesn’t even pause. He just kicks the door shut and storms down the hall to your room, like he knows exactly where he’s going.

He drops you onto the bed, watches your breasts bounce as you settle on the mattress. He strips off int he blink of any eyes while you’re still catching your breath.

“W-wait, wait, my—”

He flips you onto your stomach, hikes your ass up high in the air. You squirm, try to crawl away, but he slaps your ass so hard you see stars. He places his palm flat between your shoulder blades to bin you still.

“S-Soap,” you whine as he shoves your skirt up over your ass, palms a cheek. Spreads you open just to let the flesh jiggle back into place.

“Fuck,” he growls. It sounds off. Sounds deeper, rougher now.

“Just-just slow down…!”

He yanks your panties aside, plunges two thick fingers into you. You squeal, legs kicking uselessly against the mattress.

“Oh, you’re plenty ready,” he says, dark, almost to himself. “All ready to be mated and bred. All mine.”

That finally starts to break the lust-drunk haze. Open your mouth to tell him absolutely not, it’s been way to long and your need to be stretched—

He forces his entire cock into you with one brutal thrust. You scream, cry, try to flatten yourself against the bed but he won’t even let you do that, muttering about “presenting” properly. It hurts but it feels good, know that’s it’s just too much.

“Soap,” you sob, “y-you can’t— you have to… I’m-I’m gonna break.”

“Shhhh, no you’re not,” he soothes, grinding a bit deeper. Your eyes roll back, keening through your teeth. “You were made for me. You’re all for me.”

You shake your head, but he just chuckles.

“Yes, baby, yes. You let me in, you kept me. Now we belong to each other.”

“Soap, w-what are you talking about…?” you manage, fists tight in the sheets. He draws back once and slams into you, hard, mean.

Leans down so he’s rumbling directly in your ear.“‘S Johnny, hen.”

You blink, confused and overwhelmed. “W-what… n-no. No, Johnny is my….”

“Woof.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #woof woof johnny #woof woof au

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ma1dita · 3 months

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a wish your heart makes

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.4k

summary: (established relationship) The one where you share dreams, burn cookies, and it still reminds him of home. You try to do something nice for your boyfriend and everything goes wrong, or so you think. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: I thought about May Castellan, alone in her kitchen, baking cookies and making sandwiches for a son who would never come ho—OH FUCK OFF, UNCLE RICK. sidenote this haunted me.

(posted 1/26/24 unbetad)

—

Luke’s dreams were always different from yours.

Both when he’s awake and holding your hand up until sleep finally rips him away from your earthly embrace, he’s always been certain of who he was and what he wants to achieve. To be a hero providing salvation for the needy, to be a half-blood son worth the love of a god, and to be a fierce soldier, leading his troop into battle for glory. These are the thoughts he routinely pounds into his brain, so much so that anyone who knows him knows of his aspirations.

You don’t think you’ve ever met anyone so insistent on wanting to be remembered. Luke wants to leave a legacy worth dying for, worth talking about for millenia to come. And your boy persists, despite the trials of life, the ignorance of his father, and the strings of the Fates.

Your dreams, however, were always much simpler.

Cuddled under your covers and brushing your lips against Luke’s forehead to quell the growing unease that occupies his brain, you whisper what you deeply wish for.

“We’re getting old,” you mumble, and the breath of his laugh tickles your ear. He lazily runs his nose against the slope of your collarbone, sighing when he finally hears the steady beat of your chest, “We’ve definitely surpassed the average life expectancy of a typical demigod. Look at us…” he jests.

Your breath jumps in amusement as you feel his lips against your sternum, and then your boyfriend is smiling against your heart, using you for comfort as you both pass the time waiting for Hypnos to come calling.

“In a year, we’ll be nineteen…And I know you never wanted to stay here forever, so… What’s next?”

You hold in a bated breath, always unsure of where to place yourself in rank of his priorities. Who were you if not his biggest supporter?

Luke contemplates for a moment in the silence of your bedroom. It’s much easier to think and have more adult… conversations… without the many meddling children of cabin 11 always asking for one more lullaby, one more glass of water, and one more tuck-in goodnight. Here in the privacy of your room, he gets to be a boy void of his responsibilities besides hiding under his girlfriend’s duvet, giving her another shirt of his to wear, and kissing her until Apollo’s rays of light gently help you wake.

“You tell me, trouble. What does the future have in store for us?”

Us.

He’s sweet to indulge in your fantasies like this, and you stroke your fingers through his curls as you speak, ‘I think it’d be nice to go to college. Made it this far, so maybe being normal won’t be so hard…”

A soft noise leaves his throat, urging you to continue as you bite your lip and smile.

“Maybe someday, we could get a house. One on top of a hill. I don’t need much, something like the Big House, but one we can call home.”

You can feel the teeth of his sleepy grin against your skin as he whispers the next words into your heart.

“We could do that. House with big bay windows, and the smell of my mom’s chocolate chip cookies in the air. Sounds nice, baby.”

And it does.

Luke’s eyes flutter shut shortly after, but your mind is awake with how to make the dream you now share a reality. Perhaps you couldn’t give him glory, or pray hard enough to Hermes so that he’d talk to his son, but you reckon that chocolate chip cookies would be easy enough.

—

At least, it was supposed to be—until you set off the smoke alarm again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Clouds of grey are billowing from the communal kitchen oven after your multiple attempts of trying to get this right. The dryads had both partially given up on the havoc you wrecked upon their workspace as well as your increasing frustration towards them. It wasn’t their fault, you knew that—but as a perfectionist who followed the recipe to a t, how was it possible that everything was still going wrong? The first batch, you got too excited and mixed all the ingredients together, making them lumpy and inconsistent. The second batch was over-creamed, and you had to scrape them off the tray, and with this one… well you had the oven setting on a bit too high.

You sigh deeply, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes as you try to will away the mania creeping up your neck. Being the daughter of the god of insanity was hard, having to consistently control your emotions for the sake of others. Taking a shaky breath, you stare blankly at the darkened cookies, close to being burned to a crisp. The jingle of the windchime against the door rings across the room and you barely hear it until you feel Luke’s hands skate past your waist to go open a window.

“What’d you get into now, trouble? Been looking for you,” he says, coughing lightly from the smoke.

You groan, trying to cover the mess behind you on the counter and accidentally catching your arm on the hot tray, making you flinch.

“Ow! Ugh, babe, you’re not supposed to be here yet! I thought you were still sparring…”

Your boyfriend approaches you, squeezing your arm to examine if you’ve gotten hurt and tugging you towards him.

“That was an hour ago—how long have you been here, baby?” Luke pulls you into his arms, placing a kiss on your warm wrist, instantly soothing your anxiety until you see his eyes meet your latest failure.

“You bake now?”

“Clearly not, Luke, I’m sorry…I tried but I kept getting it wrong and then I got mad at myself for fucking up something so…” your voice weakens, tears welling in your eyes again thinking you’ve disappointed him.

Luke steps away from you and towards the kitchen counter, warm cookies browned to a crisp. He reaches out to pick one up before you can stop him, crunching down on it, the bittersweet taste filling his mouth as he sniffs.

Just like his mother would make them, through her madness and all.

He’s transported back to a memory of a house with big bay windows, kind of like the one you two dreamt up last night, but he’s nine and sitting at the kitchen table drinking Kool-Aid while his mom makes peanut butter sandwiches. May Castellan forgets the cookies in the oven again, and for a moment, Luke forgets that the last time he saw his mother was a lifetime ago.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying until he feels your fingertips brushing away the saltwater from his cheeks.

“Didn’t mean to make you cry, angelface, I’m sorry…” you mumble, but stop speaking when you see him take another bite.

“They’re great.”

“What?”

He chomps on another singed cookie, his lips quirking into a soft smile. Luke’s not going to let you throw the rest of this batch out. Chuckling weakly, he lifts you onto the kitchen counter as he slots himself between your legs, rough hands patting your thighs.

“Well, they’re not great. But they’re perfect. Just the way I remember them,” he smiles, kissing the furrow in your brow. You don’t bother trying to comprehend his statement, happy that you didn’t mess up a memory he holds dear.

Luke wonders if maybe he’s been blessed by his father after all, to have such extreme luck to exist at the same time as you. He doesn’t answer to the gods, to fate, but he does answer when you call his name, and settles into your arms. Love is an action after all, uncontained by just words, and he knows you tried your best, which makes it more than enough.

“She would’ve loved you, I’m sure of it,” he says rubbing his nose against yours before you can interject again, “I love you, so I know she would’ve too.”

Luke presses a tender kiss against the palm that caresses his jaw, before meeting you in the middle and finding your lips. It’s a dance you two have memorized, sweet and breathless as you meld both of your grins together. To him, you taste like chocolate chips and feel like home.

“I love you too, angelface. Almost burned the kitchen down for you,” your chuckle is cut off when he goes to press against your pout again hungrily, tracing patterns against the soft skin of your thighs as he just eats you up. The sound of your moans escapes between kisses as you wind your legs around his waist and it dampens the sound of the kitchen timer when it goes off.

(You forcibly have to detach from Luke’s embrace, much to his displeasure so that you don’t burn the next batch too.)

—

"Your name is humming inside my chest. I think this is what it means to love. I think this is what it means to be living." -Emma Bleker

ask to be added to general/luke taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan x reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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readychilledwine · 8 months

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Hellos. Could do something where the reader is azriel mate and they are kidnapped. She sacrifices her wings to save his life. And mention how az is angry that it happened and whatever u think will look good. Thank you.

👀👀👀👀 I, uh, may have a thing for shattering my own heart only to pick up the pieces. So yes. Yes, I can. Hopefully, you enjoy it, and I did it justice, dearest!

Beauty in Pain

Azriel x Illyrian reader

Warnings - not over descriptive mentions of torture and dismemberment, Azriel goes feral, depression, the usual unedited by an outside source.

Word count -2030

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

You were better trained than this.

That reminder was echoing inside your mind like a war drum, beating senselessly into your thoughts as you were dragged down the barely lit pathway under the temple. You knew no one was coming. Faebane had blocked the mating bond, blocked your ability to call Rhys or Feyre. You'd be lucky if they found you, alive or dead.

It had started a routine mission. Head to the war camps, ask the leader for reports, speak with the females, head home to your mate.

Your mate. The one you prayed had felt the bond grow cold despite the many promises to never shut each other out. The one who'd slaughter every single male involved in this when he found out where you were, who had you, and what they planned to do or will have done.

You didn't fight as they laid you face down on the concrete block in the room. They had planned this, planned how long to keep you on a specific dose of faebane, no food, and no water. Planned the beatings used to weaken you on a cycle. You felt it and flinched as two sets of hands roughly grabbed your left wing.

You were prepared to be clipped as a form of torture for the information they wanted. You knew it was coming. But as blinding pain left you with no choice but to scream out for your mate, for your brother, for Rhysand, you knew the plan was worse than you had imagined.

But you did not yield. You bared the pain, allowing it to try and break you until the world grew cold and dark.

—-----------

Azriel was pacing Rhysand's office. He had not slept in the 7 long days you had been overdue for, at the very least, a check in, after the missive Rhys and Cassian had received.

They have not started training the females. I will be home or rewrite soon. I promise. The three Illyrian males had trusted you to handle it. They had trusted you would be safe, unharmed, respected.

And despite every alarm ringing in his heart, mind, and soul, Azriel had not gone to you right away.

Rhysand's eyes glazed over, his face dropping slowly as he received whatever message he was receiving. He came back to them slowly, moving without speaking as he started grabbing weapons and tossing them to Azriel and Cassian.

The High Lord's voice was dealthy calm as he finally spoke. "A set of wings, freshly removed, was just found outside of my mother's cabin. There's no signs of (y/n) anywhere in any of the camps the twins searched. The only thing reported to them was in the northernmost camp."

Rhysand breathed deeply. "A female was carried through the camp, unconscious with her head and body covered. That same night the camp heard screams from midnight until early into the morning."

Cassian's breath caught in his throat before he immediately grabbed Rhysand's arm. "Take me there, now."

"How long ago," Azriel's voice had gone cold and detached. "How long ago did that happen? How long has she been sitting Mother knows where with untreated wounds or dead?"

Rhysand refused to look at Azriel, reaching to grab his brother's hand, before finally whispering. "4 days."

—------------

The rescue had turned into a bloodbath. There was zero question as a panicked shadows all but dragged the three of them to an abandoned temple.

It reeked of her blood, her sweat, her tears.

It held an almost haunting aura as if the terror and pain of her screams had scarred the ancient stone, marking it to forever echo her agony to anyone walking inside.

Azriel didn't want to ask questions. He didn't want prisoners. He wanted payment in blood.

He had cut through every single male that appeared in their path before Rhysand and Cassian even had a chance to interfere on his way to the dungeons his shadows were pleading with him to get to quickly.

And now one last male stood between him and the cell she laid unconscious in. "Move or be moved," Rhysand told him coolly. "I would not push your luck."

The male stared at a blood soaked Azriel. His shadows were curling over his shoulders like snakes waiting to strike. His wings flared wide in dominance and anger. His 7 siphons glowing.

The young male moved, allowing Rhysand to grab him and winnow him away to the Prison before Azriel could beat him to death as well. Cassian moved quickly to the door, opening it with the key they had found, before entering the small cell containing his sister.

The anguished sob that left Cassian was the only confirmation Azriel needed. "Y/n," he heard Cassian tapping your body. "Come on, sis. Wake up."

Dying. Azriel's shadows confirmed. Infections. We cannot safely winnow her. Rhys is bringing a healing team. Need more space.

Azriel moved into the cell, holding the scream in his throat as he was overwhelmed with the urge to run to you. Cassian had you cradled into his chest, rocking you back and forth before looking up at Azriel, eyes rimmed with tears. "We need to get her somewhere that Madja can use to work on her. Rhys is bringing her and a team of healers here." Azriel held his arms out, a silent demand in the movement.

Cassian only nodded. Standing and carefully transferring your beaten and bleeding body into Azriel's arms, following him out of the room.

—---------------

3 long weeks of silence had passed in the House of Wind.

No one had gone to Azriel's room.

No one had spoken to him without the male lashing out.

There was nothing they could do to comfort him but allow him to be with you.

When you first got home, while you were lying unconscious with Madja, Helion, and Lucien looking after you, Rhys had managed to get out of the male Azriel allowed to live one very simple thing.

You let them torture you, let them completely take your wings, to force you to look into death's eyes, and you had allowed them to do it to protect Azriel. You had refused to give them his schedule to visit the camps. You refused to tell them when he'd be there alone again. You refused to tell them which pathway he flew in using or where he'd shadow-walk himself to first.

You had lost your wings to protect him. Your husband, your mate.

Azriel had lost it then, guilt eating away at him, and began beating the male to death with his bare fists as Cassian and Rhysand just watched. They knew what was echoing in his mind. She will live, Madja had said, but she will never be the same. Her wings can't be reattached or saved, no one has the ability to give her back what was taken.

You hadn't spoken to Azriel, Rhys, or Cassian when you finally woke up. You only sat in your window, staring at the sky.

The one you'd never feel going through your hair again. The one you'd never touch again. The one you'd never taste again.

It was funny, you thought to yourself, to have been protected and trained to ensure this never happened, only for the moment it did to come 500 long years later.

It had been a full week later when Azriel cornered you in the shower and just held your naked body for you two to speak. Another week passed before you allowed him to kiss you and hold you without him having to force the contact. You had yet to show interest in leaving the bedroom the two of you shared.

You felt familiar scarred hands on your bare shoulders, wrapping around to your collarbones before running up the front of your neck and tilting your head back. "Dinner alone tonight or dinner with our family?" His voice was scratched from the crying you two had been doing. His eyes were swollen and red. "I already know the answer, I just need to verbally hear it."

"I wish to be alone." He nodded. Taking the cue and leaving you to your window as he sat back on the couch, head falling into his hands, as he began to cry again.

You watched his shoulders shaking, listened to his almost silenced sniffling. You knew things had forever changed in your relationship.

There would be no more missions for you.

No more trips with Amren away from him.

No more walking Velaris alone.

There would be no more date nights spent flying.

No more jumping from high places together, allowing yourselves to fall until the last possible second, only to spread those precious wings.

There'd be no more wing play late into the early mornings, edging each other with small touches in certain places until you were both begging for relief.

But you knew deep down, more than anything, there would be a new Azriel. One that would have one more thing to hold against himself. One that would have one more moment of his life to look back on and use as an argument for how he wasn't enough.

And you couldn't have that. You would not stand for it.

You couldn't have the broken male you had spent time healing with, growing with, and struggling with. You could not have the one who blamed himself for every little thing again.

You stood on slightly unstable feet, and walked to your closet, a shadow trailing you. Rhys had immediately replaced your clothing, ensuring you would not have to go through ordering it yourself, and had the twins place the new materials into your closet. A simple black dress was what you picked. It would stop right above your knees, hug your torso beautifully. You closed the closet door, calling for Rhys silently in your mind and jumping as his hands appeared behind you. "I need help." You whispered.

His eyes searched yours before nodding and helping you change into the dress. Allowing you to use him to balance. A kiss was placed on the back of your head as he laced it up. Gentle, but full of emotion. And he winnowed away.

You left the closet, walking to Azriel on the couch slowly with a pair of his trousers and a black button-up shirt in hand. "I changed my mind. I'm craving that cake, the almond one with the vanilla frosting."

Azriel scoffed lightly. "I am not leaving you to go get cake. I will ask Rhysand-"

"I need you to fly me there, Az. I want to go get the cake, eat it at the Cafe with coffee, and then I want you to take me for a walk on the Sindra. And maybe go to that book store. The used book one."

He was silent before looking at you. His hazel eyes were full of question. "Y/n-"

"If my mate will not take me, I will ask my brother. I want cake, and I want my husband to take me to get it."

"I don't think you understand how heartbreaking not being able to truly fly is going to be, my heart."

You only repeated yourself, voice smaller this time. "If my mate will not take me, I will ask my brother. I want cake." You paused, eyes welling with tears. "I deserve cake and coffee. If I want cake and coffee for dinner, I expect my mate, the male who married me and bound himself to me, to take me."

Azriel nodded. Grabbing the clothing from you and he changed in silence. He stood on the balcony waiting as you took calming breaths and walked outside for the first time in many weeks.

"I am not responsible for the setback in your mental health after this."

"No, but you are monetarily responsible for my cake and purchases. Let's go." He took you in his arms, holding you close to his chest and took off hard.

And in that moment, you both knew something new had begun. You were laughing as he concentrated way more than usual to fly. You were smiling at how this allowed you to feel his body heat, to hear his heartbeat, to touch his face.

You were laughing at how he began genuinely laughing at you. Not understanding where the sudden joy filling the bond and over flowing it like a faucet set to run for too long came from.

It wasn't until he paused in the sky, hovering so he could look down at your smiling face did you both realize something.

Losing your wings was just the beginning.

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel fic #azriel x illyrian!reader

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moondirti · 1 year

Text

give peace a chance

I missed you, you want to say, but you know it’ll do nothing to change this routine. You settle on a question he’ll have a response to, for all it can do to uncover thoughts he’d want to bury deep.

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x f!Reader rating: explicit (18+ mdni) word count: 3.4k summary: you’re always there, waiting on him warnings: size kink, blowjobs, facefucking, thigh riding, masturbation, squirting, angst, brief mentions of death, canon typical violence, mild mild gore, fluff notes: had 'Yes to Heaven' by lana del rey on loop while writing this one. out of body experience fr. anyway, i finally gave in and wrote for the boogey man. he's been occupying too much headspace for me to not.

You don’t hear him come in.

Crisp, white sheets gather in a knot at your midsection – previously pristine, wrinkles pull at its surface now. You can’t sleep, but that’s most nights.

Your curtains dance with an incoming drift, lazy gauze, sheer in the cresting moonlight. If you weren’t so absorbed in the white noise of your whirring fan, you could catch the quiet click of your backdoor. You always leave it open, just in case; people know not to dare take advantage of the liberties you exhibit. There’s the invisible threat, protection, of a shadowed mercenary over your toytown home.

His missions are incalculable. That’s the one thing he cannot promise you. Come back soon, you beg, but he leaves you with a silent kiss and nothing else.

There were once days where you’d tag along. Your chest twinges at the uncomfortable reminder. Cracked bone, spilt ichor; the bullet had barely missed your heart, lodged between the throbbing organ and a major vessel. He’d raged to get you decommissioned, incensed demands – they’d never seen him as angry.

Carpet flattens under your bare feet as you crawl out of bed, soft, like all things here. You hadn’t the luxury of comfort before, when Simon was Ghost and you were a rookie under him, but he’d granted you a life you sought only in your dreams. The first few days in paradise, you were torn over appreciation and resentment at the act, bandages wrapped around your chest – but you’d healed and found the irreversible damage etched into the hard plate of your clavicle – a rounded, discoloured scar.

You’re glad you’d left that life behind.

Padding out to the kitchen, you pour yourself a drink. The cupboard underneath your sink contains only bourbon – blended, straight, kentucky – so you fish out juice from your fridge. It’s sickly sweet, all natural sugars, your ass.

“Shouldn’t drink that stuff.” A voice cuts the tranquillity, rugged and choppy on harsh consonants – a cockney accent. You soothe the alarmed surprise racing in your gut, a gentle smile turning your cheeks.

His eyes pierce back at you, a smudge of white against an otherwise charcoal canvas. He’s sitting at the dining table, just across your kitchen island, his massive form illuminated by the warm light you’d turned on. You don’t know how you missed him, but then again, the man lives up to his name. Ghost; creeping up like the dead.

“We’re all out of milk.” You respond, your tease lilting to an affectionate whisper when it hits your tongue. Simon scoffs. “Not like whiskey’s any better.”

You pour him a glass regardless.

He’s still equipped in his tactical gear, his gun set on the chair next to him. It adds unnecessary bulk, layers on layers of insulation, conservation – impossibly, he looks bigger like this. Larger than life. Your hands run along the coarse material of his bullet proof vest; you think you can feel his muscles tense, despite the surfaces separating you. But he takes the bourbon with little fuss, wrapping a strong arm around your legs so your knees knock the side of his thigh.

“Hi,” You giggle, beaming down at him.

“Hey.” He mocks, setting the drink down.

His hard-shell mask conceals any tells you may glean. In just the balaclava, you can catch the shape of his lips, the curve of his nose, when he smiles – the painted fabric pulls taut over his features. But a skull stares back at you, and all you have are his eyes, framed with ashen lashes. They’re only enough to tell you one thing; he’s happy to be home.

You love the way they catch the light, a subtle glimmer in them.

For a while, the two of you just stand there, revelling in the weighted company of one another. His gloved hand presses circles into your flesh, just under the hem of your sleeping shorts, while yours find every bit of exposed skin you can. There’s not much – just the small stretch of neck you can reach, tucked behind his collar before the rest of him disappears. But you find it with reverence, smoothing over it, his heated body slowly easing by the minute under your ministrations. Some part of you realises the desperation you observe him with, the hurried glances at his back, his stomach, his legs. You look for darkened, sticky fabric. You look for blood.

You don’t have the courage to speak your fears into fruition.

Simon slowly begins to pull the heavier parts of his armour off. The night vision goggles on his head, the packets of ammo stuffed into available pockets. You move to help him, humming, shifting as you unbuckle the back of his plate carrier. His groans are wicked, deep waves of relief stemming from somewhere in his chest, and you hide the blush that arises at the sound, throwing the layer into an unknown corner. You remember the soreness, the knotted shoulders from days in the same kit, your spine in aching need of a good long stretch. You make a mental note to rub his back later.

You take off his gloves. There’s little give – they’re crusted in dried gore and gunpowder, the bones on their front almost entirely camouflaged. A sharp tug is what it takes to peel them off his hands. But then his skin is bared to you. You survey the grit that dusts the contours of his veins. Dirt has sunk through the fibres.

When he’s left in just his mask and underclothes, he finally slumps, posture altering from that of a soldier’s to one of a tired man. His legs spread, thick thighs filling his pants, and he reaches for his drink again, lifting the bottom of his mask and balaclava to take a large gulp. His newly revealed Adam's apple bobs with the motion.

“How many men?” You speak into the space. He pauses, his pink lips pursing at the brim of his glass. You have half a mind to regret asking, but you do this for your own solace.

“Jus’ three.” Just. To anyone else, he may sound indifferent, his tone etched in that low timbre, unwavering with the grief over lost comrades. To you, you know that his pain is cavernous, a bottomless chasm he’ll undoubtedly return to. Indicatively, he pulls his mask back down over his face. It isn’t just three men. It’s three too many – but it’s on the lower end of the casualties the 141 usually faces.

You wait for him to say the words you’re looking for.

“They’re alright.”

You nod. Al Bravo team was not amongst the fatalities. Gaz. Price. Soap. You cling onto the reassurance of your friends’ continued survival, a buoy until the next raging storm.

Simon’s hand returns to its place on your leg, tracing long lines along the back of it. You shiver, suppressing the heat that spreads up your tummy like wildfire. His steel gaze is indecipherable as he looks up at you; your emotions flit across your face erratically. You wish he’d take the mask off, get on even footing with you, but it takes a while for him to come down from his missions. For as long as he’s racked with enduring adrenaline, he’ll keep his guard up.

He’s surrounded by the safe walls of your – his – home, but he’s in over his head.

You bow down, placing a gentle kiss on the curve of his jaw. The arm wrapped around you draws you closer.

He smells like saltpetre, guncotton, hints of kerosene floating in the air between you. You push your face nearer to his, and you’re able to catch a faint whiff of his aftershave, traces of the cleanliness and cologne he leaves behind here, with you. You open your mouth to comment on it; he beats you to your cause:

“Lovely girl.” He squeezes the flesh on your upper thigh – not quite your ass, but almost.

“Mmm, Simon.” You start, capturing his eyes. They bear down on you with an intensity that makes your core ache. “Y’Can’t keep doing this to me.”

You imagine he’s smirking when he retaliates. “Can say the same for you, expectin’ me to focus out there when you look this good.” Like a giddy schoolgirl, you bite your lip at his compliment.

Stirring to kiss his jaw again, you slowly start to unzip his windbreaker. Your fingers span the front of the black hoodie underneath, tracing the hard plane of his chest, feeling it rumble with a noiseless groan. His legs spread wider. You catch a telling bulge in your peripheral.

“Need help?” You murmur, purring when he slips underneath your shorts to give your rear a feel. His callouses dig into you.

“Need you.” He says.

The hand that was on his chest inches downward now, your nails raking along. You give a half-suppressed laugh as his abdomen tightens, bracing against your ticklish assault. You want to feel it bare – to extricate the exhaustion from an uncovered torso and watch as his muscles roll, solid brawn unravelling with the slightest touch. But you’ll settle on this, you know he needs it. His mask does unspeakable things to you, anyway.

“Relax.” You encourage with a breath. Simon doesn’t listen; he still kneads your flesh with an unforgiving grip. His thumb brushes close to the soaked patch on your panties – with the appreciative grunt he gives, you know he senses the arousal emanating from you.

His cock strains his pants, taking up all the space it can. You coo, poor thing, as you cup the underside of it. He gives you a reproaching spank, and your hips buck in tandem to his. As you do, you realise now how uncomfortable of a position you’re in – your neck cramps in this angle. Really, it’s a silly thing to be hung up about, but Simon must read the subtle cringe you give, for he urges you to kneel, guiding you by your head to crawl in between his open legs.

You’re halfway under the table when you look up at him again, cheek pressed adoringly against his knee. He’s seemingly content like this, petting round your forehead to the ridge of your chin. His palm is large, dry, warm. You quickly lose trajectory as he caresses you, all droopy eyes and small smiles.

He catches when you rub your legs together, chasing a friction that will never amount to him. You can never escape his scrutiny; Simon captures everything.

He pats your cheek and pinches it before his touch leaves you. Newly awake, you perk up, perching on your haunches to lean further into him. You’re always eager, but his chuckle at your barely concealed anticipation beckons a stone to lodge itself in your throat. It’s a ball of desire, denser than most things, snowballing with every passing moment in his presence. You’re tuned in on him, rapt to every subtle thing – the deep exhales, the anchoring of his boots to hardwood floors. It’s take, take, take, an absorption of anything he’s willing to give. It tends to be like this after he comes back – was like this back on the base, when you’d known nothing but his moniker and callsign.

You recall rubbing one out to the staticky crackle of his voice over the channel, your headset pressed tight to your ears. You’d never told him that; you figure now’s a good time as any.

“Used to fantasise about you, y’know.” You sigh, ironing over his calves. You move your brushes to his hulking thighs when he begins to undo his pants, wetting your lips.

His next exhale is torn, steadiness ripped to shreds by your less-than seductive words. “Oh yeah?” He remarks, scooping into his boxers to pull his heavy cock out. “What about?”

It springs free just then, angry head flushed a deep red, blood supplied by pulsing veins that branch to the top. You keen at the precum that beads at the top, rushing to catch it with your index to slip it onto your tongue. He says nothing, merely contemplating as you wriggle with the heady taste of him.

“This,” You add after a long moment, before licking a long, wet stripe up the base of his dick. His whole body jerks unexpectedly, and he grabs onto your head to steady your impatient efforts.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

“Gone soft on me? I see.” Chortling, you play with his tip, batting it back and forth to tap your lips. He is anything but soft – regrettably, though, the rise you get from teasing him is too great to pass up.

“Shut it, pet, before I turn your insides over.” He urges you forward once he’s settled. You don’t tell him how much you’d really like him to. In due time.

Your lips wrap around the bulbous head, sides stretching to accommodate his girth. You’re familiar with the drill by now; hollow your cheeks, keep your jaw nice and loose. Use some teeth, he chokes at the pain.

His skin moves with you as you sink down , rolling your tongue over the ridges that cross your path. Your breath is hot, your mouth even hotter – sweltering, you suck him in and coat his rock-hard with a film of saliva, which aids you when you bob back up. You can’t reach the root of him, not yet – he’s way too big – so your hand wraps around the length not in your mouth.

“That’s it.” Simon rasps, now pushing you down in support. Your hum is lost in the lewd slurps, but he twitches with the vibrations it produces. A glob of drool leaks from you, seeping down to gather in his scruffy curls – you use it as slick to twist your wrist around his base.

He’s ripe with the salty taste of sweat and precum, a dizzying combination – you hope you’re subtle as you slip your free hand down your pants, pressing up into the plush of your cunt. You find where you’re most sensitive, a tight bundle of nerves, and touch yourself, all the while savouring the masculinity that engulfs you – his muscled thighs by your ears, his giant hands pressing down on your head.

A particularly loud groan sounds from above. You triple your efforts, delighted at your part in helping him unwind. At one point, his added pressure pushes you down all the way. You gag, blubbering with choked gasps, but your lips stay sealed around him, an unforgiving vacuum. His happy trail scratches your nose,

“Gonna cum, you lovely thing. Righ’ down your throat. Take it all, understand?” He asks. You’re able to discern the wobble in his abrasive voice – his balls spasm at your lips, ready to erupt at any moment. You nod, gaping at him earnestly, with wide, watery eyes. His own soften, downturning at the corners. “‘Atta girl.”

With the hazy memory of his face before he’d left, you can draw an abstraction of what he might look like right now. You trick yourself into thinking he’s smiling down at you. Gentle, caring.

You don’t have to try as hard to believe it.

Your fingers work fervently over your sopping cunt, slipping between velvet folds. Your exertion, combined with his pure fucking magnetism, is almost enough to tip you over the edge. A cluster in your gut stiffens, grows, upends. You stroke yourself impossibly faster.

Simon curls inward, his mask now directly above you. A bit of his cock drags from your mouth – your bottom teeth scrape a vein in consequence. He jolts. Then, rich, long ropes of cum shoot into your awaiting mouth, painting you with musky white. You keep jerking him as he does, urging more, more, more, milking him to spill his all into you.

A tap of your shoulder is all the evidence you need to pull off him with a pop. You didn’t cum, it doesn’t matter, you hardly feel the mounting desperation amidst the grand scheme of things. Simon’s back hits the chair, his head tilting as he takes you in.

“C’mere,” He grunts, pushing backwards to allow you space to stand. You oblige, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand – it only serves to smear the mess across your cheek. Your back brushes the table – he beckons you closer – until your bruised knees hit the edge of the chair.

When he’s satisfied, his hands run up your sides, starting at your arms, then downward, so they can hook into the waistband of your shorts. You lock onto his all-consuming stare, dark with an unspoken question, his pupils blown wide with lingering lust.

“Go ahead.” You coax.

He nods and pulls your shorts off with one, swift movement.

Cold air meets soaked cotton – you tremble, whether with goosebumps or the weight of his study, you don’t know. You’re the farthest thing from a blushing virgin, but Simon manages to propel you back into that bashful headspace. Every time with him is ruthless – stifling broken sobs while adjusting to his width, utter pleasure and the smallest bit of pain.

Perhaps you’ll forgo that this time around. He’s quickly softening against his pelvis. You understand – stamina tends to dissipate after holding out for so long. Though he’s anything but a selfish lover.

He guides you to straddle his thigh.

You squirm, hip flexors burning with the strain of splitting over the breadth of him. He keeps you steady with his hands on your waist – you clutch onto his wrists. His sleeves have rucked up to reveal his tattooed forearm. You trace the ink, reverent, requiring as much skin-to-skin as possible. It flees the fastest, that sensation, running up behind him when he exits the door. The bruises, the bites, the cramp from hitting your cervix one too many times, on the other hand – they all endure, keeping you sated long enough so that you aren’t compelled to rejoin him. He might do that on purpose, in fact.

Your clit folds as it meets his leg – a new surge of slick spills from you.

“A-Ah! Simon, y–”

“I know, pet. Jus’ ride me, yeah, like that.”

Your bottom half ruts into him, finding purchase on the solid surface of his thigh. Your panties slide, preventing the potential for divine friction, so you push them to the side, wedging it in the crevice of a lip and your pubic bone. You stutter apologies to Simon for the mess – your natural lubricant smears onto his cargo pants, sullying the fabric. He assures that he’ll wear it proudly. You’re a prouder medal than blood.

You’re whimpering now, wailing about everything and nothing all at once with your face tucked into his neck. He embraces you – sturdiness forcing you to stunt your movements to short, hurried grinds – and says nothing.

Something terrifying begins to burn in you; promising a cataclysm. It’s him. His scent, his strength, his size, his presence. I missed you. I missed you. Your impending orgasm crawls up the tendons in your pelvis, seeping into bone and flooding like a high tide. Your pants grow shallower. Your lungs feel cramped. Something about this, here, with him, lights every synapse in you, flashing bright with colours and promises and safety. I miss you.

“I miss you,” You finally gasp, broken as you peer up at him. He stills – you keep your pace. Sweat beads at your temple.

He slowly removes the mask.

The balaclava follows soon after.

Simon then bows down, pressing his lips to your furrowed brow.

And then, everything in you compresses, fierce and tight. You wind your fingers into his hair, pulling his head back to bite the column of his neck. You do it to muffle the sob that bubbles when you erupt in searing agony atop him, back arching, toes curling. Your body goes completely rigid.

He groans with the cut of your teeth, and your cunt pulsates again, spilling down on him, your fluids draining to double your mark on the man.

“Missed you too.” Simon rustles in response. You seize his mouth with yours, uncaring for how messy it is. It’s what you need; to feel your teeth knock, to bind yourself to him.

You kiss in him the intent to never let you go. You know it won’t last, but for now, it’s enough.

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wileys-russo · 5 months

Text

insomniac II k.mccabe x reader

kinda love this, kinda hate this. based around the request here insomniac II k.mccabe x reader

you sighed quietly as your eyes started to ache, latched wide awake and glaring up at the ceiling, counting sheep no longer working as it never did.

you'd tried everything under the sun to settle enough to sleep for more than a broken half hour, it never worked. there was always a small part of you that was wired, buzzing and alight with an energy that came from god knows where.

you'd tried medication of course at the advice of your doctor but it just left you feeling spaced out and drowsy, often waking up just as tired as if you'd stayed awake through the night anyway.

your mind ticked over and over thoughts swirling round your head like fish in a pond, never stopping or slowing always just going around and around no real destination or end in sight.

it was always at its worst when you had something to fixate on and tomorrows derby was exactly that. your worries and doubts about your performance crept in, picking and picking and picking at every little insecurity or doubt or worry that crept in with your walls down and at your most vulnerable.

then you were bold enough to tap your phone, big mistake.

3:47am.

you silently screamed, dragging your hands down your face, now somehow even more awake with the glaring reminder of the time, your alarm set for 8:30am.

your hand hovered on the bedside table, fingers just inches away from your phone as you bit down on your bottom lip. you knew she would be here in ten minutes flat despite living double that distance away, foot to the floor at your beckoned call.

you normally slept soundly with your girlfriend beside you, her strong arms wrapped around you, slender fingers carded through your hair and the repeated steady thumping of her heartbeat lulling you into the most dreamless sleep you could ever wish for.

but that didn't mean it happened every single time, and you knew better than to mess with katie's sleep schedule as well as your own. so on the nights before matches you always had some sort of excuse prepared why you couldn't spend the night with her, and you weren't sure katie believed all of them, but she never pushed you about it.

6:52am.

you suddenly jolted back awake, a sudden chilling anxiety creeping in that you'd overslept you were quick to tap your phone, groaning loudly seeing the time, having only fallen asleep around a quarter to five.

giving up with a sigh you kicked off the covers, sending them flying to the floor with a soft thump as you swung out of bed, rubbing your face and leaving your phone to charge. grabbing your blanket off the ground you wrapped it around you and padded out to the living room.

you collapsed onto your lounge with a deafeated sigh, wrapped in your doona like a burrito as you clicked the tv on, settling for the cooking channel knowing it wasn't something you'd be too focused on watching.

"baby? darlin?" your eyes fluttered awake hearing a voice faintly calling your name, though assuming it was some sort of dream you settled yourself again. "jesus christ here ya are!" but they shortly opened again as the voice grew louder, and you blinked tiredly seeing a blurry figure looming over you.

"hey. did you sleep here?" hands softly grabbed your face as you blinked again and suddenly your girlfriends worried face was hovering near yours as she knelt down by the lounge.

"no i just...just dozed off. what time is it?" you asked groggily, barely able to keep your eyes open as katies frown deepened. "ten. you were a no show for breakfast, i was worried something happened to ya." katie spoke quietly, thumbs stroking your flushed cheeks.

"oh shit! i'm so sorry." you exhaled, shooting up suddenly as her hands fell to her sides and you rubbed your eyes, seeing stars for a moment as you stopped and stretched. "i thought i set my alarm and i-" you stopped, frantically patting around you and coming up empty.

"it's in my room." you realised with a sigh, burying your face in your hands as katie moved to sit beside you. "hey, did you sleep at all last night? don't take this the wrong way sweets but ya look like shit." katies tone was laced with concern, unable to ignore the deep bags under your eyes.

"yeah yeah i'm fine. how long have i got?" you brushed off her worry with a shake of your head. "couple hours. is your bag packed?" katie questioned, wanting nothing more than to continue questioning you but knowing that wasn't going to help anything right now.

"no, i was supposed to get up and do it before i met you for breakfast." you groaned in realization, the stress already mounting on your shoulders at your careless error. "hey." katie grabbed your hands, tugging them away from your face and turning you to look at her.

"you go and have a shower, do your skin care stuff or whatever you call it. i'll pack your bag and cook us somethin to eat, okay?" she stated more than questioned, staring you down as you nodded, knowing better than to try and argue with her.

"sorry." you exhaled into her shoulder as she pulled you into a tight hug. "don't be. my job to look after ya when you forget, god knows you've done it for me!" her body vibrated with a small chuckle as she pulled away, placing a kiss to your forehead and nodding for you to head toward the bathroom.

"smells good baby, thank you." your hoodie covered arms wrapped around the slightly taller girls hips, your cheek resting against her back as you leaned into her where she stood by your stove dishing up.

you kissed her cheek appreciatively as she handed you a plate, nodding for you to sit down as she dished up her own food. "you gonna be honest about not sleepin then?" katie asked, breaking the silence once filled by the scraping of cutlery against plates.

"i told you, i'm fine." you sighed at her concern, rolling your eyes and continuing to eat. "you're not." katie pushed, jaw clenching at your denial. "i am katie, drop it." you warned, fixing her with a firm look which she only met with one of her own.

"whatever, stubborn idiot." your girlfriend scoffed quietly, shaking her head as you bit your tongue not to snap at her, knowing part of the reason you were so moody was because you hadn't slept, and you hardly wanted to any further prove her worries to be worthwhile.

the silence continued as you finished eating, grabbing yours and your girlfriends dishes and washing them up, leaving her to have some space to cool down before you'd both need to be in game mode.

sure enough right as you were finished she appeared, hugging you tightly from behind as her face tucked into your neck. "ya know i only bug you about it cause i care, right?" katie mumbled as you sighed, moving your hands to rest on top of hers.

"i know. but i don't need this today, we have bigger things to focus on." you spoke gently, leaning back into her a little more and feeling her nod, the two of you standing there just appreciating one anothers embrace for a moment, katie gently swaying the two of you side to side.

"right i'm getting seasick babe." you joked, tapping her hands as they let go of your waist and the irishwoman unwound from around you. "mm not so fast darlin. think ya might be forgettin somethin?" katie caged you in against the counter, arms either side of your body and a cheeky grin ingrained into her features.

"hmm. breakfast? check. shower? check. cuddle? check. bags packed? check. sounds like we're ready to leave love!" you smiled teasingly, knowing exactly what she wanted. "think harder." katies body pressed into yours, grin growing as she leant in closer and closed.

"oh! of course baby, how could i forget." you gasped, leaning up as if to kiss her but ducking under her arm, the older girl stumbling forward as you darted away. "gotta put my trainers on!" you winked as she quickly turned.

you laughed as she chased after you, grabbing the back of your pants and yanking you down onto the lounge before you could make a break for the front door, your body toppling down on top of hers.

"caught ya baby girl!" she grinned, bunching your hoodie in her fists and pulling your mouth to meet hers, the two of you smiling into the kiss. you indulged her for a few moments, allowing her tongue to slip in as you grabbed her face deepening the kiss even further before forcing yourself to pull away.

"baby as much as i love you and i love doing this, we're running late."

"hey y/l/n, can i grab you for a second please?" you looked up from where you were stretching with a few of the girls, one of the assistant coaches and medic waiting for you as you nodded, excusing yourself from your previous conversation with frida and noelle.

"is everything alright?" you questioned with a frown, the two of them requesting you come to the medical room with them. your worry grew when neither of them answered you, and it doubled as you entered the room and saw you weren't alone.

"okay why do i feel like this is an intervention? are you sending me to AA?" you joked, tone laced with nervousness as both your captains for club and for country sat waiting.

"please take a seat. you're not in any trouble we just want to talk about something that's been flagged." martin, the assistant coach smiled kindly, gesturing for you to take a seat as you pulled yourself up onto one of the physio benches.

"flagged?" you frowned, confusion peaking into curiosity. "its been mentioned you've been having some trouble sleeping, and this has raised some questions about your ability to be match fit today." kim spoke up first, eyes raking over you with concern.

"let me guess, katie?" you rolled your eyes, nerves and confusion now replaced with annoyance and frustration. "easy mate, you know she loves you which is why its being taken seriously, she'd hardly lie." leah spoke softly but fixed you with a look as you opened your mouth to argue.

"what have i got to do to prove i'm fine then? i can play! look i'm wide awake. i'll count backwards from 100? walk a straight line? do the alphabet?" you rambled on, eyes daring around the room.

"this isn't to test if you've been drinking and driving." martin chuckled. "so what do i need to do? other than go and warm up, which i'm missing!" you made a point, pointing out of the door and toward the pitch.

"katie said you didn't sleep last night, and that you've struggled with a regular sleep schedule for a rather long time." julie the medic questioned, having you look in a few different directions as she shone a bright light in your eyes.

"i have insomnia, its diagnosed and the club has record of that. it's never stopped me playing before." you winced at the light, blinking a few times to adjust as she finished with a hum. "do you take medication to help you sleep?" julie questioned.

"....yeah." you answered, clearly a little too slowly for everyone's liking. "don't lie." leah warned, crossing her arms sternly. "i used to take benzodiazepines but i stopped because i was waking up feeling even worse than if i just didn't sleep." you admitted honestly with a sigh.

"have you seen a doctor about that? tried other medication?" julie pressed, scribbling things down on a clipboard.

"i've seen multiple doctors and tried everything. i've not had a proper sleep schedule since i was a teenager and i still play at my best every single match. so why the hell is my fitness and ability being questioned now from the concerns of one person? a person who wasn't even with me last night to know if i slept or not!" you snapped, patience coupled with a lack of sleep bubbling over.

"sorry." you apologized quickly, looking down at the floor. "if you're not sleeping, you're not rested. and if you're not rested your body is more susceptible to fatigue and to injuries." julie spoke up first, handing her clipboard to martin whose eyes raked over her findings with a frown.

"the line up is already announced and i'm starting. you can't bench me, please! it's the derby and i am fine." you all but begged, sending pleading looks to both kim and leah to back you up. "it's not our call." kim sent you a small sympathetic smile as you groaned, head thumping back against the wall behind you as you awaited your fate.

"we'll be back in just a minute." martin promised as he and julie stepped out for a moment, door closing behind them. "this is such bullshit." you spat, pulling your knees up to your chest and glaring at the wall.

"why haven't you told any of us about this? why hasn't katie brought it up until now?" kim asked with a frown as you rolled your eyes. "because i am fine, and its nobodies business anyway! its not like im a fucking vampire and i don't ever sleep." you grumbled, body hunched over and tense with frustration.

"don't bite our heads off! we care too." leah warned making you roll your eyes. "if you cared you'd back me up and advocate they let me play." you huffed, glancing to the door and frowning as it still didn't open.

"how long did you sleep last night then?" kim questioned with a raised eyebrow. "again, don't lie." leah added on, forever like the nagging sister you'd never had before.

"few hours here and there, i got enough. i feel fine!" "if you say you're fine one more time i'm gonna shove my-" "leah that is not helping right now."

luckily enough for you martin and julie returned before either kim or leah could say another word, your nerves increasing as you looked between them eagerly awaiting their verdict.

"you can play today."

you sighed in relief, pumping your fist happily but your smile dropped as julie held up a hand. "but you'll need to start seeing a therapist weekly, and we'll need to see an updated diagnosis and medication review." she finished as your eyes bugged in surprise.

"a therapist?" you scoffed pulling a face. "would you rather be benched?" leah warned raising an eyebrow as you held your hands up in surrender. "okay! i agree to that. now can i go and warm up please?" you hopped down from the bench, waiting eagerly to be dismissed as martin nodded with a flick of his hand and within seconds you were gone.

but as your feet hit the pitch again, there was only one target you locked in on, marching angrily towards her.

"oi what the fuc-" she turned around with a murderous glare as you shoved her in the back sending her stumbling forward. "you've got some fucking nerve mccabe." you shoved her again, eyes slit into a glare of your own.

"baby listen just-" "don't you baby me. how dare you go behind my back and complain to the coaching staff that i'm not match fit who the hell do you think you are?" she grabbed your hands in hers as you tried to push her again, holding on tightly and dragging you back toward the tunnel, ignoring your complaints.

"i'm ya girlfriend and your team mate, and as both of those i know you're not match fit. those bags under your eyes aren't louis v darlin." katie spat as you yanked your hands out of her grip. "i don't care who you are, you had no fucking right katie you almost got me benched for one of the most important matches of the season!" you growled, both of your hands balled into fists.

"oh is that so? well if i had my way you'd be benched till you learned to act your fucking age and how to look after yourself!" katie shot back with a sneer, both of you far too agitated and hot headed to think rationally about the words exchanged.

"girls!"

before either of you could continue to lash out your heads snapped toward kim who stood a few metres away, captains armband on and hands on her hips, leah lingering behind her with the same unimpressed look.

"you're a fucken child sometimes throwing ya toys out when ya don't get your own way. grow up!" katie spat before storming off back to the pitch as you scoffed, opening your mouth to yell after her before an arm fell to your shoulder and a hand covered your mouth.

"you'll thank me later." leah warned, guiding you back out to the pitch as kim headed off after katie.

and you hadn't entirely lied you were feeling fine...for the first twenty or so minutes of the match.

you hated to admit it but the longer you played the more you really realized how tired you were, you missed easy passes, your tackles were sloppy and you found yourself far more out of breath than usual.

when the half time whistle finally sounded after six minutes of extra allotted injury time your shoulders sagged with relief, and you found yourself doubled over with your hands on your knees.

"you right mate?" you knew from the voice that it was lotte but as you looked up to her her face was blurred and you could only nod, following after her and into the tunnel.

you paused to lean against the wall once you were out of sight, rubbing your eyes and seeing stars but with a few shakes of your head your vision cleared and you stumbled into the change rooms, missing the concerned looks thrown your way by a few of your team mates.

"fuck off i'm fine." you mumbled as katie approached you, scoffing in disbelief and shaking her head, storming off to sit on the other side of the room as jonas started to address everyone.

you tried your best to listen, but your ears were ringing lightly and you found your fingers jammed into them, wiggling desperately to try and cease the noise, too distracted to hear a few of the girls try to check in with you.

it was only when a hand fell to your shoulder that you jolted to attention, your face flushing bright red in embarrassment as you realized you'd been directly addressed by the coaching staff.

"sorry i got some grass in my ear. can you repeat that please?" you questioned softly, shrugging off jens hand and doing your best to focus on the new tactics being explained to you, nodding along and giving martin a thumbs up once he finished.

noticing a few of the other girls murmuring to one another and flicking you the occasional glance, especially katie who was sat with alessia and jen. with a roll of your eyes you grabbed your water bottle, pushing up to your feet ignoring the way your head swam and your vision blurred a little as you did, storming out of the change room.

you downed the rest of your water, again rubbing your eyes as you dropped your bottle in the holder by the bench, stretching as the rest of the girls all filed back out of the tunnel.

you felt katie's eyes bore into the side of your head as you all returned to the pitch, ignoring the overwhelming urge to meet her gaze as you settled into position, wincing at the sound of the whistle as tottenham kicked off.

it was still deadlocked at 1-1 when the first round of substitutions were made, katie, beth and lia taken off for amanda, cloe and kyra. your head was thumping and it had started to ache behind the back of your eyes but you were determined to push on.

however your girlfriend had other ideas.

"martin ya gotta get her taken off man. look at her she's strugglin!" katie quietly begged the man, who advised he was unable to do anything as the subs had already been set and the tactics formed. katie continued to plead until eventually jonas stepped in, ordering her back to her seat with an agreement he'd keep an eye on you the next ten minutes.

he didn't need that long.

moments are katie took her seat, arms crossed and a thundering glare of discontent on her face, arsenal were awarded a corner by a poorly cleared ball from the spurs.

steph stood up to take it and you huddled in by the post, flanked by a defender on either side as it appeared almost the entire starting 22 crammed into the goal posts, half desperate to score and half desperate to defend.

you were jostled side to side, a few shoves into your back by the keeper as you did your best to hold your ground, the ringing in your ears returning as you blinked rapidly trying to clear it.

then you heard the crack of stephs boots meeting the ball, eyes widening as black dots blurred your vision and you jumped, the ball soaring closer and closer as chaos erupted in the box, a flurry of bodies pushing and shoving and jumping.

suddenly you felt a searing pain split open your head and your vision went black, your body thumping to the pitch with a sickening thud, the awful clang of where your forehead had bounced off the goal post echoing around the box.

the ball hit the back of the net off frida's head but nobody made a move to celebrate as a crowd formed around you, the medics racing over and clearing them as it took three of your team mates to hold katie back from sprinting off after them.

your eyes opened and you groaned as the light pierced through them, feeling it hit the back of your skull as something wet trickled into your mouth catching you off guard as you started to cough and splutter.

you heard someone ask if you could feel your toes and you held up a singular thumb, then came questions about your back and your neck and it was confirmed a stretcher wasn't needed.

very slowly you were helped to your feet, arms slung around the medics and eyes drooped shut as your body sagged limply, feeling julie press a cloth to your forehead as bodies moved around you, unable to look like anything more than colorful blobs as your head screamed for a reprise, the screaming of the crowd only making it worse.

within seconds the yelling was cut off, your body laid down on the physio table. without as much background noise and direct light you were able to open your eyes, blinking a few times as your ears stopped ringing and slowly you came a little more to.

"what? what did you say?" you slurred, hearing your name mentioned as your head was gently lifted up and someones body slotted beneath you, your head now resting in their lap.

"just stay quiet for a second, relax." you recognized the voice to be leahs, and could make out the words concussion, stitches and hospital. "no hospital!" you slurred out, trying to sit up as leah gently held you down, one hand on your chest as the other continued to press gauze on the large cut on your forehead.

"the ambulance is nearly here. i'm gonna go with you and so is julie, they need to clean and stitch your head kid, this is a nasty cut." leah warned softly as your vision came a little more to and you could make out her face.

not having anything left in you to argue you only nodded. "katie." you managed to get out as they helped you to your feet and paramedics entered, julie briefing them on what had happened.

"she's grabbing your bag and she'll meet us there."

you didn't remember much else after that, until suddenly you became aware of a pain in your neck and you shifted, trying to reach your fist up to punch your pillow into a more comfortable position.

"ah fuck!" you swore as your hand instead collided with the metal railing of the hospital bed, your eyes fluttering open as you blinked a few times. "hey hey hey, no sudden movements." leah shot up from the chair beside your bed as you tried to sit up.

"why the fuck am i in a hospital bed?" you groaned, laying back down with her help.

"you went headfirst into the goal post my girl, split your forehead right open top to tail and gave us all one hell of a scare." leah explained as you gently touched your forehead, wincing as you pressed lightly on the stitches and leah clicked her tongue at you and swatted your hand away.

"did we win?" you questioned, leah unable to help a smile from curling onto her lips as she shook your head. "yeah we won." leah chuckled as you let out a small sigh of relief, quickly noticing you and leah were alone.

"where's katie?" you asked, afraid of the answer as leah shot you a lot of pity and you shrank into yourself. "she's really pissed off with me, isn't she?" you sighed, squeezing your eyes closed regretful of your actions.

"she was here before, but she just needed a little space to cool off." leah smiled sympathetically as you nodded in understanding. "so i guess i'm in a bit of shit with everyone then." you mumbled quietly, looking up at the roof.

"as much as you infuriate me i could never stay mad at you for all that long, none of us could. but you are on bed rest for the next three days, your iron levels are severely low so you'll need an infusion, and you're not cleared to play for two weeks at least." leah recounted everything the doctor had told her earlier.

"doing my job for me!" speaking of, the man strode in with an amused smile toward leah and greeting you, stopping at the foot of your bed as leah moved your bed into a sitting position at his request.

he didn't waste any time, affirming what leah said was all correct and now you were awake you were okay to be discharged, but that you weren't to use any sort of electronics, drive a car or be around any bright light for at least twenty four hours.

you'd not need to come back in to have the stitches removed, the arsenal medics trained enough to do that themselves. but if you had any symptoms of concussion, vision issues or any dizziness you were to come right back to be assessed.

you only nodded, barely having the energy to speak as the doctor turned his attention onto leah instead. within the hour you were dressed into a pair of your own sweats and given your discharge papers, leahs arm over your shoulder guiding you out of the hospital and toward her car, slipping her sunglasses on over your eyes as you left.

"are you coming in?" you asked hesitantly as leah pulled up outside your home. "katie's there, i already called her and filled her in on everything." leah explained with a smile as you nodded, sighing deeply but thanking leah with a hug and kiss to the cheek, promising to look after yourself.

by the time you'd pulled away from the hug your girlfriend was already waiting on the front steps, having heard leahs car pull up in the driveway. her head was covered with a hoodie, arms crossed over her chest with an unreadable expression on her face.

you hadn't even opened the door before she was in front of you, helping you out wordlessly as your body sagged into hers, the pain medication and lack of sleep all hitting you like a truck as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

"i'm so sorry." you managed out quietly as the two of you entered your home, katie closing the door quietly after you. "stop." she responded softly, and your body filled with relief as she wrapped you in a tight tight hug.

"i was so fucken scared." you heard the irishwoman whisper, vulnerability leaking from her tone as she exhaled shakily. "i'm so sorry, i should have listened to you." you admitted, moving to look up at her, your heart breaking at the fear in her eyes.

"i should have spoke with you before going to the trainers. but right now you need to rest baby girl." she smiled, placing a tender kiss to your puckered lips.

you let out a small laugh as her hands hooked under your thighs, hoisting you up and into her arms as your legs wrapped around her waist. "hold on tight spidermonkey." she teased as your head fell to her shoulder with a sigh.

"i wish i never made you watch twilight."

"close your eyes please baby." katie instructed as you arrived to your bedroom, door firmly closed as you didn't bother to argue, eyes slipping shut as you heard the doorknob click and squeak open.

"keep em closed till i say so." you felt her lower your body into bed, kissing your forehead beside your stitches softly as you nodded. you heard her thump and move around the room for a few moments before you felt her slip into bed beside you.

"open darlin."

you did so and your breath caught in your throat as your eyes landed on the roof. "oh baby." you managed out, tears welling up in your eyes.

"i know counting sheep doesn't help, but i thought maybe these might be a little easier." katie whispered, tugging your body into hers as you stared up at the small glow in the dark galaxy of stars now stuck all over your roof.

"how did you even...." "got a lot of helpin hands." "it's perfect katie baby, thank you."

you turned and pressed your lips to hers, your girlfriend gently pushing you away with a sorry smile. "doctors orders." she explained and you nodded with a small sigh, katie ducking down and stealing one more kiss.

"please go to sleep gorgeous, for as long as you need. i'll be right here the entire time." the brunette promised, having already drawn your blinds and blocked out all possible light she could.

you didn't have it in you to even say another word, her arms wrapped securely around you and hands playing with your hair pulling you into a deep cocoon of comfort.

soft nothings were mumbled into your forehead as katies lips lingered there, careful of your stitches. the gentle hum of her voice lulled you into a dreamless sleep, the pain medication taking off the edge and allowing you to properly rest.

and it was safe to say there wasn't a single night before a match you spent alone anymore.

#katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #woso #woso blurbs #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso community

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queenshelby · 7 months

Text

Business As Usual (Part Five)

Pairing: Dark!Thomas Shelby x Wife!Reader

Warning: Arranged Marriage, Angst, Cheating

Words: 1,678

NOTE: THIS IS MUCH DARKER THAN WHAT I USUALLY WRITE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Just as you heard the shots and Tommy walked outside, your heart raced in fear. Your body trembled with anxiety, realizing how dangerous your life had become since marrying into the world of the notorious Peaky Blinders and, even though you grew within the ranks of the Mafia, you had always been sheltered from the dangers of the underworld.

But this did not mean that you could not protect yourself. Your father had taught you how to shoot when you were just a child. Taking one step backward, your hand thus instinctively reached out to grab the gun resting elegantly yet threateningly upon Tommy’s mahogany-finished desk.

Your fingers brushed over the cool metal surface, feeling an almost primal connection to it. The click echoed through the vastness of the room, reminding you of all those years ago – practicing until your aim became perfect, steady. This was what you needed now as there was no way that you would rely on anyone else to protect you and the unborn child you were secretly carrying.

You heard another shot being fired outside before gripping the gun firmly, pushing past the panicked fear swirling inside you.

As you stepped forth onto the porch area where Tommy was standing, he immediately snapped, telling you to go back inside.

"I told you to stay inside!" His voice boomed throughout the night air like thunder, causing birds to scatter and leave their perches just before another shot was fired from somewhere down below - close enough to raise alarm bells in both of your hearts. Fear and adrenalin coursed swiftly through your veins, urging you both to act decisively amidst uncertainty.

"Who is it?" your voice quivered slightly as the words left your lips, betraying your growing fear.

"Someone whose got out for you and your fucking family. Now go back inside!" Tom's command came sharply, cutting through the oppressive silence that had fallen upon the gardens below. But despite his tone suggesting authority, his face revealed hesitation mixed with anger, making clear that while he knew better than most, leading such a brutal organisation carried its own set of burdens. As his gaze shifted towards the ground, you couldn't help but notice how his usually cold exterior softened, replaced instead by vulnerability which only served to intensify the desire simmering beneath the surface.

With Charlie inside, he knew not to let this stand and, just after you indeed walked back into the foyer of your large residence, your husband ought to investigate the disturbance.

His presence commanded attention wherever he went. He strode purposefully forward, his powerful legs propelling him quickly along the front yard of Arrow House.

His mind conjured up images of the enemies he had vanquished and friends made, allies lost...all these memories seemed to whisper in his ear as he approached closer to the place from whence the shots were coming. His chest tightened at the thought of losing more comrades, especially when they faced challenges like this. It was a constant struggle, and although some may deem it glamorous due to popular culture portrayals, Tommy understood well that leadership wasn't easy nor glamorous, requiring endurance, tactical thinking and, above all, sacrifices.

Meanwhile, you walked towards the back of your large house to also investigate where the shots were coming from. Feeling anxious and worried, adrenaline flowed through your veins, leaving your hands clammy and your stomach knotted.

You knew that someone was in your house, intending harm to either Tommy or yourselves. Slowly, stealthily, you moved further into the hallway of your home, peering around corners and into rooms to ensure nothing escaped your vision. All the while, your ears strained to pick up any sounds indicative of danger nearby.

Suddenly, you caught sight of movement behind the sofa at the far end of the living room, and you instinctively raised your weapon, ready to defend yourself if necessary. Just then, something fell through the air from behind you.

Before you could react, the silhouette of a tall looking man emerged from behind the furniture, lunging toward you with a savage grace. With lightning speed, you raised your arm and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet flying straight towards your target. There was an audible scream followed by a sickening crunch, and then eerie stillness returned once again.

For a moment, you stood motionless, heart pounding wildly in your chest. It took several moments for you to realize what you had done.

Adrenaline surged through your body, and you felt numb. Your arms shook violently as you dropped the gun onto the floor, its sound reverberating across the silent house. You hadn't realized how much your body ached until you finally stopped firing. The pain radiated from your shoulder down your arm and into your wrist as you too must have been shot.

You covered your arm with your hand, trying to stop the bleeding as you looked downward, seeing the victim laying sprawled lifeless beside you before you heard yet another shot being fired outside, causing you to jump.

The sudden noise broke the spell, bringing back the harsh reality of the situation. Realization struck hard, as your heart hammered fiercely in your chest, your limbs trembling involuntarily. Adrenaline filled your system, causing your pulse to race erratically. Gulping down your terror, you managed to regain control over your shaking knees and picked up the gun you had fired just moments ago.

You raced outside, determined to find the source of the last shot fired. Outside, darkness loomed heavily, providing ample cover for potential attackers. The rain began to fall, creating puddles everywhere as you searched frantically for anything unusual that might indicate the presence of hostile forces. Glancing nervously in every direction, you tried to maintain focus while battling against fatigue and discomfort caused by your injury.

Finally spotting something suspicious near a group of bushes, you slowly edged closer, pointing your gun directly ahead as you steadied your breathing.

This is when you saw her. The woman you hated the most, holding a knife against your husband's throat while Isiah Jesus, another member of the Peaky Blinders, was pointing a gun at her.

Her hazel eyes held a mixture of determination and cruelty, contrasting starkly with Tommy's own intense gaze fixed on hers

Carefully, you approached the group and, in her panicked state, Laura did not notice you until your gun was pointed directly at her head.

"Drop the fucking knife or I will blow your brains out," you warned her, taking care to remain calm and composed. Your heart pounded in your chest, knowing full well that this situation was beyond treacherous.

Laura, however, remained unfazed, seemingly reveling in the fact that she was putting Tommy and herself in grave danger. Her resolve appeared ironclad, hinting at an underlying reason behind her actions that you didn't understand, but your primary concern at that moment was getting Tommy safely out of the line of fire, simply for Charlie's sake.

"You should join my side, Y/N. He is using you and so is your family," Laura argued defiantly, clearly wanting to cause havoc.

"Says the woman with no fucking morals whatsoever," you retorted, feeling your blood pressure rise as you struggled to contain your rising temper.

Isiah merely watched with grim detachment, waiting for orders from Tommy and sensing that things were about to get ugly very soon.

Realizing that arguing wouldn't solve anything, Tom decided to take action. His decision was final, showing the strength of his convictions even during times of crisis.

"Now drop the knife," you demanded again forcefully and, just as you spoke the words, Tommy grabbed her wrist tightly in an effort to push her away.

Laura, of course, put up a fight and it was this fight which caused you to lower the gun and shoot, aiming directly for her knee cap. The loud crack of the gunshot echoed around the neighborhood, startling nearby animals awake and bringing people to their windows wondering what was happening outside.

She cried out in agony, falling to the ground with a grimace painted across her face.

"This is for sleeping with my fucking husband," you seethed before uncocking your weapon.

Turning to Tommy, you asked him one simple question, "Why her? Why would you choose her?" This time, your hurt manifested itself in a palpable way, striking Tommy squarely in the gut as he contemplated your query.

He sighed wearily, running a hand through his dark hair in a characteristic gesture that belied his turmoil within. "It was business, nothing more," he said weakly, unable to meet your eyes.

But his eyes told another tale, and you recognized that look of guilt etched across his features.

"She fucking played you," you muttered under your breath, turning away to avoid further confrontation.

As you stepped away, moving past Isiah and heading towards the house, tears welled up in your eyes - the result of the betrayal, fear, and confusion swirling inside you.

"Get her away from my fucking house and put a bullet in her head if you want to, Thomas! I don't ever want to see this woman again. Do you hear me?" you spat after having turned around momentarily. Your heart pounded madly in your chest, threatening to escape from your ribcage altogether.

Pain seared through your injured arm, forcing you to grit your teeth against the waves of agony crashing upon you. Ignoring the debilitating pain, you pushed open the door leading back into the living room. Inside, everything looked as though chaos reigned supreme—the mess of torn papers littering the floor bore testament to the urgency of the encounter that had unfolded earlier. Dread settled in your bones as you trudged through the broken glass and discarded documents, eventually reaching the staircase leading to the second level.

Tears threatened to overflow as you climbed the steps, wincing slightly at the sharp prickle of pain coursing through your wounded arm.

Desperate to distract yourself from the overwhelming mix of emotions raging within you, you attempted to focus on your physical injuries instead. The bullet lodged in your arm had now begun to throb insistently, accompanied by a steady trickle of blood oozing outwards.

You knew that you had to attend to your injuries now but you almost had no strength left within you to do so until, eventually, you heard a familiar voice from behind.

"I will take you to the hospital, Love," Tommy whispered softly, his tone laced with an unfamiliar tenderness. It seemed as though he genuinely wanted to comfort you despite all that had transpired tonight. And suddenly, your anger started to fade somewhat, probably because you were exhausted.

Inhaling deeply, you shook your head, knowing that there would be questions.

"No. You can get the bullet out," you replied stubbornly, unwilling to let anyone else help you. As strong as you may appear, you knew deep down that it wasn't really you, but rather pride keeping you standing upright in those shoes. Even as you clenched your jaw, attempting to hide the pain, your legs wobbled beneath you like jelly.

"I would, if you weren't pregnant," Tommy responded, a hint of regret evident in his tone.

Hearing these words, shockwaves of emotion coursed through you as you absorbed the truth hidden within those little words: 'pregnant'.

Your entire world shifted abruptly as gravity lost its meaning and the air became heavier. Reality crashed down on you mercilessly, leaving you stunned. Your child...his child, conceived amidst the chaos and violence that surrounded them daily.

"You know that I am pregnant? How?" you asked, seeing that you never told him. The uncertainty in your voice revealed both your surprise and disbelief.

Tommy nodded solemnly, acknowledging your astonishment. "Frances became to notice. She told me and I figured that you were going to see someone about it," he explained.

"I couldn't terminate the pregnancy, no matter how much I wanted to Thomas," you admitted, your voice low and somber.

There was a pause between you two before Tommy finally broke eye contact, looking downward thoughtfully. "I understand," he said before taking your hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze, and then leading you to his Bentley.

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hanyi-writes · 15 days

Text

Margaret's greeting to you is sweet.

She's the assistant Veritas took in three years ago, and hasn't left since. Most people applying to the position have ulterior motives—you glumly recall a specific student, because my goodness, they have little to no shame these days—but just one meeting with her made you sure she'd be 'the one'. Her unwavering yet gentle disposition was endearing, and despite Veritas's distrustful attitude, she got in anyways.

(You think it's one of the best decisions he's made.)

"Is there anything in the mail?" You ask, shutting the door behind you.

She hums, "No, not really."

"Really?" This surprises you. Usually, it's a race to contact him on anything new he's working on. "Veritas said he's expecting letters for that weapon he's finished working on. You know, the anti-planetary one?"

"Remind me what's... that, again?"

Margaret furrows her eyebrows. Maybe Veritas forgot to tell her. "Remember that project he's been working on for a long time? The weapon got sent in for a test-firing and it was successful. So, he's waiting for any correspondence from anyone who'd like to expand on it."

(You remember peeking into his office, once, wondering why he was up so late. He promised more than four hours ago that he'll join you in bed, but there was only a coldness to his side of the bed you'll never get accustomed to.

"I will be there in a couple minutes, my love," Veritas addressed you without lifting his gaze from the blueprints he's scribbling on. From the mess on his hands, it seems he's been working on it since tucking you in. "You may go to the bedroom yourself. It is unnecessary to wait on me."

Instead of listening to him, you entered his office with the door clicking behind you. Veritas's head lifted, lips parted and about to say something, but he stopped; adjusting his glasses.

You draped over him, meeting cold skin.

"What're you working on?" You asked, instead. His warmth soothed you. "Mmh... looks like it's important."

Veritas placed a hand on yours, raised to his lips to be kissed. Aeons, your little doctor was so warm. "This weapon... will be a magnum opus. One that will eventually serve its purpose, and will be recognized for years to come."

Even in the sleep-addled brain of yours, you knew it was important.

"Yeah?"

"Indeed. It will be a weapon that will..." Veritas suddenly fell silent, alarming you. He was quick to assure you with another kiss to your hand, "Do not be so concerned, my love. Either way, this weapon will be reaching its final stages soon."

You were nearing dreamland, at this point. You recall it well.

Though the mutter under his breath was ingrained in your brain:

"An anti-planetary weapon that will, hopefully, earn Nous's blessing this time...")

The spark of recognition appears, "Oh, that one!"

"You know it," you toss her a smile. "So, what's the status? I hope the Genius Society picks up one of his inventions this time. He's been looking forward to it ever since."

You take a moment to place the paper bags on the table, setting aside your bag on one of the chairs for visitors. It's well into the afternoon, classes are finished, and by Veritas's schedule, you're sure both are famished. It's strange he's not in his office at this time. You're never late with your visits, so perhaps it's likely you're early and Veritas is late.

He's probably finishing up the last lectures of the day somewhere.

"I feel the same," Margaret knows Veritas to an extent that falls closely to yours, and it's not hard to root for him the same way you do. It warms your heart to hear how Margaret holds him in high-esteem. "Mr. Ratio's one of the best, they'd be out of the minds to not induct him into the Society—oh, are those chicken wraps?"

The chicken wraps are steaming as you tear away the aluminium foil. "Yeah, I bought it for the two of you. Want one?" Her eager nod has a laugh huff out of you, so you hand it to her. You joke, "So hungry you nearly forgot, huh?"

"Yeah... where did you buy them?"

"It's near the university. There were so many students I had to fight for it..." Thankfully, one of the vendors pitied your nearly trampled self and gave you two on the house. You make a silent note to bring Veritas there to pay your debt. "...anyways, where were we?"

Margaret pauses, "Mr. Ratio's genius?"

Well, that's not what you were saying, but it's a part of the topic. "Yes, genius. Veritas is intelligent, of course. Speaking of genius, did the Genius Society send anything?"

Margaret's reaction to your question is strange. She freezes, chicken wrap just hovering in front of her mouth. Your inquisitive gaze snaps her out of her reverie, and when getting her bearings, she's avoiding your eyes. "Nothing... yet, of course. I've been watching the mail for a week already."

A week? The Genius Society's correspondence normally would not take so long. "Is there anything else in the mail?"

"No, not really," she nods her head.

Huh? The disconnect between her body language and words makes no sense at all. However, the soft smile on Margaret's lips takes the edge of the suspicion off. Why would she lie to your face, though? Unless something's happened, then...

You decide to say something else. "I see... perhaps there's some issue with the mailing system?"

"Maybe!" Margaret agrees too easily with you. Her voice went too high-pitched, smile exaggerated, then she changes the subject, "Have you eaten on the way here? It feels impolite to be the only one eating."

The sudden mention of manners has you laugh awkwardly. It's already strange enough she's avoiding a simple question like she is right now but the poor girl looks like she's about to burst with your incessant questioning of if there's anything in the mail .

Is it really so hard to answer?

"Yes, I did," you answer. Gesturing to her chicken wrap, you say, "So, go ahead and eat. It's alright."

When you turn your gaze away from her, it's as if Margaret breathes a sigh of relief. It's obvious even in the corner of your eye. For the three years she's been here, her knowledge on Veritas's projects would be better than yours. After all, it is something work related, and she deals with his correspondence to anyone on behalf of him.

If she's lying like this, then there must be a reason. A Veritas-shaped reason, indeed, because he's got a bad habit of concealing things when it comes to something.

Letting Margaret be, you take a seat on one of the chairs meant for guests. Veritas's office is a spacious one, with a small reception area for visitors to wait on him. The door to his office is by the left, the entrance to this space on the right, and Margaret's desk in the middle of the room with the lounge chairs lined up by the wall in front of her.

With this placement, it provides you a clear view of Veritas's door... and the light escaping below it.

He's here in his office and he didn't come out to greet you.

Several emotions rise up and simmer in you. Some of them are negative. Well. Most of them are, because the way alarm and concern starts to boil within you is too much.

You take a deep breath to sort your emotions first. Your feelings are negative, and worry takes the top of the list. There are some wisps of anger but it quickly melts into the emotion up top and you slowly realise that Veritas has not messaged you even once starting... 1700 system hours ago.

With your phone now in hand, you shoot him a message.

It's something to the effect of asking where he is. The loud ding! of his own phone seeps out of his office room, out into the reception, and into Margaret and yours' ears.

Guilt colours Margaret's face vibrantly.

"I can explain," she begins as you stand up, making your way to his office. Poor girl, she's been shocked out of savouring the chicken wrap you've bought. "He's— he needs some time to himself..."

It's something other than needing time to himself, you know it, you know .

You give her a rueful smile, "Is that why you told me there's no mail?"

Margaret... falls short on an answer. The diverting of her eyes to the floor tells you everything. The successful test-firing of that anti-planetary weapon was done a few weeks ago, and everyone in the know was scrambling to cover it. It was Veritas, after all, and his name—like every genius—is known across the star systems. It'd make no sense there was no mail, no nothing , to be sent to him.

You only hold on to that tiny, little hope that you're wrong and Veritas is too caught on rejoicing to have noticed your arrival.

Only a look of understanding could be given to her. To scream, to yell, to let everything burst on Margaret is counter-productive. Maybe, if you asked, she'd say that she was merely doing what she, as an academic assistant, should do.

(If it was some other situation, you'd say—to his face—that you were right about Margaret. You'd say to him she's the best academic assistant he's ever had.)

You barely spare Margaret any glance before opening the door to his office. Thousands of thoughts trickle into your brain now, ranging from is he okay? to I hope nothing's bad happened.

Every moment of you turning the knob to open feels like in slow motion. Your heart is racing, just every inkling sending you in a worry-filled tizzy, and you feel nearly paralyzed in the spot where you are right now.

You open the door, and pity and fear and just everything drops a cold bucket over you.

Veritas sits on the chair by his desk, a crumpled letter on the wood and his headpiece discarded somewhere off to the side.

You're sure he's heard you coming in.

"Veritas?"

He absentmindedly says, "You may enter."

Veritas's voice doesn't have the usual lilt it has. It does not carry around the room, nor does it have its self-assured cadence that comes from being a genius. He stares at the scenery outside his office window, as if too entranced with the way light leaves the sky to make way for the moon. The moon that merely borrows its lumination from the sun.

The door locks behind you with a click that seems to echo in the dreadfully silent office. Now, only your footsteps make noise while approaching him. You move like you're holding your breath, not wanting to startle an animal that's already on its last legs.

But it's Veritas. He's not some lowly animal, though you know his heart to be softer than anyone else would presume.

Leaned over him, you bring his face into your hands. He lets you so readily, not once making any smart comment about handling him like porcelain.

(You received such a comment, once, when doing so the first time. Before Margaret, it was you. It was so long ago you don't recall, but Veritas had turned to you for help in handling his interactions with the "outside world", he'd call it, and this time, he was busy with a project. Some prototype he'd been originally commissioned to make, though, without any second thoughts, turned down any offer of payment and instead asked that his name be "spread across the cosmos". You originally blanched at the credits the ruler of the planet was willing to drop for Veritas's involvement in their planet-wide security, but he easily brushed your surprise off. At that moment, you were sure that, to him, it was another day of putting his gifts to use. Another day of using his intelligence to aid in the prosperity of civilizations, as if it was nothing to boast about. "Do I seem to evoke some child-like energy to hold me like this?" Veritas questioned, a quizzical brow arched. There was nothing in his tone that suggested he disliked it to the point of abhorrence. If anything, he looked— curious as to why you'd hold him like this. Instead of answering that silent question, you cooed, "Oh, yes. A little baby, indeed! You're so adorable—" "That's enough," he interrupted. You couldn't help but laugh at his disgusted face. "While I appreciate the gesture, I ask you continue sorting through the letters that came through the mail if you are wasting your time like this." "You call this wasted time? I'm suddenly not allowed to hold my handsome boy like this." Veritas's eyes narrowed. "Cease calling me a 'handsome boy', and I will consider this time to be not of the 'wasted' sort." So, he didn't hate it then. You smiled. "You like it then, Veritas?" He fell silent, you recall. His eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, it seemed like he'd say no. Then Veritas turned his head, kissed your palm, and murmured, "If it's you... then, yes.")

You wonder if he can outright acknowledge it's you who's holding him this way. He seems so out of it that what gnaws at you says no, but you try. You try for him. "Veritas?" You say, again, redirecting his attention to you. His eyes follow his head's movement, but it drags, and it's like it's taking everything out of him to begin looking at you.

Faint recognition appears on his face, and his voice softens too much, unlike the usual way he addresses you, "...My apologies for not greeting you when you came. I was absorbed in my readings of a letter the IPC sent me. An invitation of some sorts..."

When you see his eyes, the world falls silent.

Oh, Aeons, his eyes. Its lost its sheen and barely looks like he's there at all.

Your heart aches. So, that's it, then.

"What did they invite you to, love?" You ask, caressing his cheeks.

Veritas breathes as if it takes so much out of him to say, “The Intelligentsia Guild.”

“Ah,” You hum, willing the sadness away from your features. This moment is about Veritas, not you. “I see. You think I should reply to them, instead?”

The shake of Veritas’s head is slow. The hand he raises to envelop over yours is warm, yet you cannot find yourself to find comfort in it. “It is… better than nothing, love.”

The sight of Veritas blurs.

And, of course, out of everything, he notices you.

"You're crying," Veritas whispers softly. He reaches over and attempts to wipe away the tears streaming down, trying to soothe you. "Am I the cause of your tears? Then, I apologize. For... for being such a failure in front of you. Nous has not deemed me enough." You hadn't realized your eyes beginning to water; a single tear brought on a waterfall.

Aeons, you want to beat him ten times over. "You're not supposed to say sorry, Veritas. I'm... I'm only so worried about you."

Veritas meets eyes with you, and knows that it's not enough to cover the defeat. The disappointment surrounding his head like clouds, blurring every aspect of himself that he thought himself to be worthy of Nous' gaze.

He looks tired; an exhaustion that drills into his bones and something far beyond you. You think he's feeling the countless hours he's poured into that weapon, the surge of ambition and dedication used to fuel his drive, and the beginning of something chipping away at him and you don't know what.

(It scares you. It scares you because Veritas shoulders too many burdens he should have given to you to share.)

"You're the best scholar I’ve ever met, Veritas,“ You tell him, pushing past the tears that line your face. ”The smartest I’ve ever seen. Have you known your intelligence was the part of you that pulled me towards you? Your genius is unparalleled, my love. There is no one else I can think of if, ever, someone asks me about the most astute person I know.“

Does he think they are empty compliments? Because Veritas merely says, “Your words are better suited to a man whose Nous’ gaze fell upon him.”

You fall silent, defeated. What are you supposed to say? Are you to tell him that Nous does not matter, when his life is centered around knowledge? What is someone to do in this situation? What is comfort to a man who has been seared beyond recognition by an Aeon whom he worships?

“It is not hopeless,” Someone speaks, and you take a moment to recognize that it is you who has spoken. “Will you let an Aeon define who you are, Veritas?”

Veritas’s eyes slip close, and his forehead rests against yours. There is nothing but your soft sniffling, the steady breathing of your lover, and the persistent ticking of the clock in his office that sounds off. It is quiet and chilling, as if waiting for some bomb to tick off to end this moment once and for all.

His eyelids flutter, reddish-pink eyes peeking through—some brightness have returned, but not enough.

Veritas replies, “I… will try not to let them define me.”

To you, that is enough.

(You know than more that he will take this moment, and let it haunt him.)

#—stellaronhvnters.#veritas ratio #dr ratio #honkai star rail #veritas ratio x reader #dr ratio x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hanyi-writing #kinda my love letter to ratio?#he makes me sad in the way that i understand him? kinda?#i mean. i'm in no way smart but that character story part 3 of his #hit me in a way i was like. gods. i understand you.

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zmbiesuga · 5 months

Text

osamu x gn!reader, domestic fluff, osamu calls reader "sweetpea", reader calls osamu "baby", oh how i yearn for him <3

Osamu's morning routine was solid.

He woke up at 5 every morning, despite the fact that Onigiri Miya opened at 8. When he was younger, he would've gone for a jog to keep himself in shape. Now however, he feels no need to change anything about himself.

It always takes him a little, before he berudgingly gets out of bed and trudges to the bathroom that's connected to your shared bedroom, his safe space. The room the two of you share every night, tight in one another's embrace.

He starts the shower, and spends about the first five minutes allowing the warm water to cascade down his body, finally waking him up fully.

It's about 5:30-ish, when he's done. He brushes his teeth, with your toothpaste today, because his ran out. The taste reminds him of you, everything does.

When he's done with his teeth, getting dressed, putting in his contacts and messing with his hair, it's almost 6:10. He was supposed to wake you up at 6, but he knows you all too well, and his efforts would be wasted if he tried.

"Sweetpea," he whispers, shaking your shoulder gently, your tired groan hurting his heart just a little, "it's 6:10...gotta get up."

"Samu...10 more minutes..." you whine, just like every morning, making his small smile break out again, "...lay with me, please?" you plead, but it's not like you have to. Before you can even finish your question, he's already back in the warm bed for you, setting his phone alarm for 6:20.

His chest presses against your back, pulling you close as he presses soft kisses all over your face and neck, making your sleepy heart flutter while the fatigue overtakes you once more.

Osamu knows you won't wake up at 6:20, or 6:30 or even 6:45, but he doesn't care. Because this is how he spends his morning, wrapped up with you after already getting himself ready for the day, hitting snooze on that obnoxious alarm until he morally can't anymore, and he wouldn't trade it for the world.

#˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ love letters from leo #♡ : haikyuu #osamu x reader #osamu x gn!reader #osamu fluff #osamu drabble #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #hq x gn!reader #haikyuu drabble #hq drabble #haikyuu fluff #hq fluff #i crave a domestic life with osamu #i need him.

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chiqelatasblog · 1 month

Text

In the Middle of the Night🌙

-> Ao3 link is here.

-> Part Two is here.

Pairings : Bi-Han/ Sub-Zero x You, Kuai Liang/ Scorpion x You, Tomas Vrbada/ Smoke x You

Tropes : Slavery, Past Sexual Abuse, Canon-Typical Violance, Emotional Hurt Comfort, Strangers to Lovers, True Love, Foursome, F/M/M/M, Dark Magic, Eventual Smut

Summary : After a mission gone wrong, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas find themselves sealed inside a book as love slaves. Whoever discovers the book and utters the incantations within will not only become its owner but also the master of the Lin Kuei’s three deadliest assassins.

For you, grappling with the weight of a solitary life and enduring a particularly rough day, stumbling upon this mysterious book was an unforeseen twist. As you bring the book home, unaware of its contents or the events that led to its creation, the ensuing chain of events will shatter the tranquility of your world, forever altering the course of your life.

Title and work inspired by the “Elley Duhe-Middle Of The Night” song

CHAPTER ONE : (READER)

You were enduring one of the worst days of your life.

Your alarm didn’t sound in the morning because you were too fatigued to remember to charge your phone the night before. With its poor battery life, it ran out quickly. Living forty-five minutes away from the city center, you should have caught the subway at least an hour ago to make it to work on time. Despite the pressing need for money, uncertainty loomed as you grappled with the inevitability of firing. The job, despite its dreadful conditions and an insufferable boss, stood as your best opportunity in months - too valuable to risk losing.

Although you had graduated from college with a commendable degree, the job market proved bleaker than anticipated. Your once-bright dreams faded as the harsh reality of post-graduation life set in. Most desirable positions demanded experience, yet securing experience required entry into these very positions. While a diploma opened a few doors, the conditions were often as harsh as modern-day servitude, albeit with insurance and a predictable late salary.

Your current role as a programmer at a gaming company offered no respite. Long hours in front of the screen left your eyes bloodshot, encircled by dark rings, and your neck perpetually aching. Despite the hardships, a promise to your distant family fueled your determination to stand on your own. Abandoning everything and returning home was not an option after coming this far. You had shed too many tears to surrender now, enduring the suffocating loneliness of solitary dinners in your cramped kitchen as you pursued your dreams.

Thus, with a reminder of your purpose, you hurriedly left your apartment. Despite the packed subway and the frenzied rush, you managed to trim your commute from fifteen minutes to a mere seven and a half. Yet, upon arrival, your efforts were futile. Summoned to your boss’s office, you were promptly instructed to collect your belongings and leave the company, denied even the opportunity to provide an explanation.

You were keenly aware of the disdain your boss and coworkers held for you; it was an open secret. They resembled vultures, poised to oust you at any moment. As the lone rookie, you were perceived as nothing more than a liability. Despite your efforts to avoid seeking their assistance by tackling most tasks independently, being in your first year of the profession meant there were occasions when you needed guidance or support. Yet, camaraderie was a foreign concept in this office. Compared to other workplaces, the only semblance of unity stemmed from shared breaks and lunches.

A part of you felt relief at the prospect of bidding farewell to a workplace where you found no joy. However, the dominant part, fueled by anxiety, fretted over how you would cover rent and expenses. Although you had a modest emergency fund tucked away, it would only sustain you for about a month. Urgency gnawed at you as you roamed the streets with a cardboard box containing your few office belongings, scouring for job advertisements. Picky was a luxury you couldn’t afford; you were prepared to take on any role, even as a barista or waitress, until you secured a position closer to your aspirations. Survival necessitated prioritizing money above all else.

As the day wore on, you lost track of time. With the setting sun casting a dim glow and street lamps flickering to life, tiny raindrops began to graze your cheeks and nose, soon escalating into a downpour. Despite the onslaught, you mustered the strength to suppress the curses threatening to spill forth. Rushing back to the subway, you braved the rain without an umbrella or proper clothes, mindful of the looming threat of illness. With no funds to spare for hospital bills or medication, resuming your job hunt from the shelter of your laptop seemed the safer option.

Arriving at the subway, drenched from head to toe, you collapsed onto the nearest available seat, your legs barely able to support you. With a heavy sigh, you closed your eyes, feeling the weight of the day’s exhaustion bearing down on your body. The simple act of sitting down was a luxury, a stark reminder of just how fatigued and stressed you had become over the course of the day. You rubbed your weary legs in an attempt to generate some warmth, soothing the cramps and chasing away the chill brought on by the rain.

As the subway doors slid open with a ding, a wave of commuters flooded in, filling the once-empty seats around you. Seizing the opportunity to rest your eyes until reaching home, you leaned back against the seat with the cardboard box resting on your lap. Tired, cold, and hungry, the numbing effect of the rain provided a brief respite from the stress, deserving of a well-earned nap.

When the ache in your neck became unbearable, you reluctantly opened your eyes, realizing that your stop was approaching. Glancing down, you noticed a book lying on the seat beside you, as your grip on the box was dangerously close to slipping from your grasp. Picking it up, you scanned the faces around you, expecting someone to claim the book or acknowledge its presence, but no one seemed to react. Confirmation dawned upon you, the book had been left behind, seemingly forgotten by its owner.

Although the book appeared hefty, its weathered cover hinted at years of use and handling. Despite its age, it felt surprisingly light in your hands, its once vibrant hues faded to muted tones. Adorned with a pale gold cover devoid of any text on the back, the book bore the scars of countless readings and journeys. Turning the book over to avoid catching your tired reflection on its worn and shiny surface, your lips parted in mild surprise. Three striking male figures graced the cover, their details rendered with such realism that they almost seemed tangible, despite the signs of wear and tear. Your finger traced over the hyper-realistic features with impulsive curiosity, only to retract abruptly as if scalded, suddenly aware of your surroundings.

As a sweet ache pulsed between your thighs, you found yourself unexpectedly aroused by a mere image, prompting you to shift uncomfortably in an attempt to quell the throbbing sensation. It had been quite a while since you last shared intimate moments with someone, but even that didn’t entirely account for the sudden surge of desire sparked by a simple picture. Stirring memories long buried within you, igniting a hunger you hadn't realized existed until now.

A blush warmed your cheeks as you examined the figures once more. The trio bore the semblance of warriors or assassins, albeit clad in scant attire. The man on the left possessed a sun-kissed tan, his muscular frame adorned with a large scorpion tattoo on his left arm. His black hair was artfully swept across his face, his golden mask veiling a stern gaze as he brandished a flaming kunai, its rope end poised for action.

Your attention shifted to the figure at the center, whose face remained partially obscured by a silvery black mask. Despite the concealment, a strange sense of familiarity emanated from his features, mirroring those of his companion. His complexion was pale, revealing blue-green veins beneath the surface, while his dark eyes emanated cold, dominating arrogance. Black hair, tied in a low bun with a few tufts escaping to frame his strong features. Massive biceps framed his imposing stature as he wielded a sword of ice, poised to strike with lethal precision.

In stark contrast, the figure on the right differed greatly from his counterparts. Towering slightly above them, he bore little resemblance to an Asian individual, exuding a distinctly European air. His skin was also light, and he wore a grey-colored mask covering half of his face. A thin, light grey smoke emanated from his body. His short gray hair and softer gray-blue eyes lent him a gentler appearance, juxtaposed by the lethal aura exuded by the carambite adorning his finger. Despite his softer features, his lethal prowess was undeniable.

As you scrutinized the cover, a perplexing question lingered: why would the illustrator depict warriors in such a manner if not for a romantic context? Their barely dressed and provocative poses hinted at a fantasy narrative, reinforced only by the presence of their weapons. Without them, the figures might have appeared more akin to love slaves than skilled warriors. “An intriguing choice,” you murmured to yourself, pondering the illustrator’s intentions behind such a depiction.

As you opened the book to look at the chipped pages, curiosity piqued about the contents within, you suddenly realized that your stop had arrived. Hastily tucking the book into your box, you sprang to your feet with a muttered exclamation.

“Oh, shoot!” With a swift maneuver, you barely managed to slip through the closing doors of the crowded subway. Amidst the post-work rush, the mingled scents of sweat and cigarettes engulfed you as you navigated through the throng. Minutes later, emerging from the subway, you drew a deep breath, filling your lungs with the scent of rain-soaked earth.

Your journey to home passed in a blur, your body moving on autopilot along familiar streets and corners. Before you knew it, you stood before your fifth-floor apartment, a small abode consisting of two rooms and an American kitchen. Its most prized feature was the balcony, a sanctuary where you relished summer evenings, savoring the view with a glass of wine by candlelight.

When you arrived home, it was already nine o’clock in the evening. Leaving the box in your hand at the entrance of the door, you went straight into the shower to wash away the fatigue and grime of the day, and to replenish the warmth your drenched body had lost. You lingered under the hot water until it thoroughly enveloped your body, and finally, when the steam filled the small bathroom and you felt like you might faint from the heat, you emerged, clad in your well-worn and hardened bathrobe, with a towel wrapped around your head.

Pouring the last remnants of the red wine you opened days ago into a glass, you placed it in the microwave to heat up the leftover Chinese food you ordered a day ago. As you waited for your meal to warm, your gaze wandered to the box in the corner, reigniting your curiosity about the mysterious book. Crossing the room in a few strides, you retrieved the book and placed it on the kitchen island, settling into your chair with wine and warmed food. “I’ll worry about unemployment later,” you declared, raising your glass in a toast. “Today was stressful enough, and I definitely deserve this wine.” With a sip of wine and a mouthful of noodles, you flipped open the book’s cover with your free hand, eager to have a look at what it held.

‘’What…?” You stared at the glossy golden pages, brows furrowed in confusion, surprised to find them empty. “What kind of book is this? I don’t understand the purpose.” you muttered in disbelief. The worn-out appearance of the book added to your confusion, making you question whether something had happened before it was finished.

As you reached the middle of the book, a shocking revelation left you speechless. Lines, equivalent to about a paragraph, materialized on the previously blank pages before your eyes, causing your entire body to freeze in shock. Tremors coursed through you, as if jolted by electricity, and you grasped desperately for reality, unsure if what you were witnessing was a dream. Gasping for breath, you struggled to comprehend the surreal sight before you.

“I haven’t even had that much wine—I just took a sip.” you mumbled, your voice strained with the effort to contain your rising panic. “I’ve seen enough movies to know where this is going. I’m not reading whatever’s written here,” you declared, the thin timbre of your voice betraying your attempt to stifle a scream.

You closed the cover of the book hard and attempted to get up from your chair, but found yourself unable to move. It was as if an unseen force held you in place. The cover of the book opened again, and as the pages flickered before your eyes, the one you had just turned to was laid out in front of you once more, sending shivers of fear down your spine.

“Read it,” a demanding male voice echoed in your mind, freezing you in terror. Despite your frantic desire to flee, you remained immobilized, unable to move a muscle.

“I-I was just curious about what it says. I didn’t mean any harm,” you pleaded weakly, few tears streaming down your cheeks due to the immense fear you felt at the moment. Another voice, speaking in a foreign tongue filled the air, his tone scolding but directed elsewhere, not at you.

“We won’t harm you, master,” another voice reassured, offering a glimmer of hope amidst the fear.

“Say the words aloud, and we will serve you,” urged yet another voice, prompting a realization of the three distinct voices corresponding to the figures depicted on the book’s cover.

“W-What the…! Are they…”

“Yes, that’s us you see on the cover. We’ve been trapped in this book for a long time. You have to say the words to get us out of here,” one of the voices explained.

“You’re talking as if I had a choice,” you replied in a timid, low voice.

“Read the words, woman,” another voice commanded. It was the coldest and harshest of them all. Despite lacking a physical form, his dominant aura was unmistakable in the way he emphasized his words. His voice resonated with a deep, chilling tone, unlike anything you had ever heard before. You attempted to steady yourself, swallowing hard and clenching your trembling hands into fists on your legs.

“How do I know you won’t hurt me? Each of you had a weapon on the cover; it’s clear you’re some kind of warriors.”

“We are bound to the master of the book,” another voice interjected, his tone notably more welcoming and kind than the others. “We cannot harm you.”

“God, I must be losing my mind. I’m talking to a book,” you muttered, glancing at the pages with audible trepidation. Fear and panic constricted your throat, rendering you speechless.

“This is no illusion—it is the truth,” the same younger voice asserted after a brief silence. “Read what is written, master, and we shall pledge our service to you.”

“I-I’m not anyone’s master. Don’t call me that; this situation is already too surreal for me,” you protested weakly.

“As you wish, master,” came the compliant response.

“You won’t hurt me, will you? I’m too young to die; I haven’t even begun to fulfill my dreams…” you pleaded, your words abruptly cut off by a snarl. If not for the invisible force holding you down, you might have leaped in fear.

“Read these damn sentences!” the voice commanded, his tone harsh.

“Bi-Han, don’t frighten her!” another voice intervened.

“Fine, fine, I’ll read it!” Tears continued to trickle down your cheeks as you began to recite the words aloud, hoping to end the ordeal. And as you prayed to the god or whatever deity might be watching over you, you couldn’t shake the dread that you might be leading yourself to your own demise. “Rise, my servants, from the depths of slumber and bind yourselves to me with your souls, revealing your names. Embrace your new purpose ensnared by passion.’’

As you finished speaking, a powerful gust of wind whipped through the room, causing the towel around your shoulders to unravel and fall. Soon after, you heard the voices of three men speaking in unison, their words echoing loudly.

‘’We rise, Bi-Han, Kuai Liang, and Tomas of the Lin Kuei, bound to your will, for in your presence, we find solace and purpose. We protect and we please, however you see right, however you seem fit. We’re your slaves, and you’re our master, surrendered to your every command, body and soul.’’

With a surge of energy, the wind intensified, knocking over the glass on the counter, spilling wine onto the robe and floor. The glass shattered at your feet, scattering shards across the kitchen. A brilliant light emanated from the book, forcing you to shut your eyes against its intensity.

Then, as suddenly as it began, everything fell silent and still. The wind vanished as if it had never been, and the light that had filled the room dimmed into darkness. Summoning the courage to open your eyes, you were met with the sight of three imposing, completely naked men standing a short distance away.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!” You attempted to gather your thoughts, tearing your gaze away from the men to focus on the scattered glass on the kitchen floor. “There are three naked men in my living room. And—and they emerged from the book? I must be losing my mind. I really must be losing my mind.”

As the words tumbled from your lips, sounding like utter madness to your own ears, you tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself. But when you attempted to rise from your seat, your numbed feet betrayed you, causing you to stumble and fall to the ground. The impact sent a jolt of pain through your knees and feet as shards of glass embedded themselves into your flesh, stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Shh, it’s okay. Calm down, you’re only hurting yourself,” came a gentle voice.

Your gaze was drawn to a towering, bronzed figure looming over you, his powerful physique making you feel small and vulnerable. Sensing your escalating panic, he gently cupped your face in his large hands, the touch of his calloused fingers both rough and tender. With each contact, warmth spread through your body in soothing waves.

“Look at me. Take deep breaths and exhale, just like I do,” he instructed in a soothing tone.

“I can’t,” your voice broken with fear.

“Of course you can. Follow my lead, I’ll show you,” he reassured. As you turned your gaze to his face, you were met with a pair of slanted light brown eyes, framed by long black eyelashes. His gaze exuded warmth and understanding, matching the sensitivity of his touch. “Breathe with me. Now.”

As your brain somehow focused on his instructions, you found yourself synchronizing your breaths with the mighty man before you. With each inhale and exhale, you felt a wave of calm wash over you, dissipating the last shreds of your strength. He effortlessly supported you, preventing you from collapsing to the floor, his touch gentle yet firm. Despite the pain throbbing in your flesh and the warmth of blood trickling down your skin, you remained in a state of confusion and fear, unable to muster the will to move from his grasp.

“Tomas, find something to clean the wound,” commanded the one with the authoritative voice, resonating with incredible depth. The man who held you gently lowered himself onto one of the double seats in the living room, maintaining his firm grasp on you. A faint warmth spread across your face, but you remained ensnared in his hold, feeling as if your mouth were filled with dry cotton.

Your gaze shifted to the man cradling you, his expression clouded with concern as his amber eyes scrutinized you closely as if he feared you might suffer another attack. Despite his gray hair, you were taken aback when a youthful visage suddenly filled your vision. The man was tall and imposing, his large build casting a formidable shadow over you. Feeling intimidated between these two towering figures, a timid whimper escaped your lips as your body instinctively recoiled, yearning to escape despite its weakened state.

“Calm down, master. We won’t hurt you. Let me tend to your wounds; you’ve cut your knees and feet badly. I can ease your pain,” reassured the silver-haired man, his voice carrying a surprisingly gentle tone given his imposing stature. As you swallowed and tried to shift again, a cold sound from across the room froze you in place.

“If you move again, I’ll—” began the menacing voice.

“Bi-Han, enough! She’s already frightened, no need to add to it.” Intervened the man holding you, his voice commanding authority. Though Bi-Han’s threat remained unfinished, its effect lingered, rendering you motionless, afraid to even breathe. As the silver-haired man tended to your wounds while taking advantage of your stillness, the man holding you attempted to comfort you with gentle pats, drawing soothing circles on your back.

Gritting your teeth against the pain as the glass shards were removed, you fought the urge to appear weak and helpless in their eyes. Though you couldn’t see yourself from their perspective, a sense of self-consciousness gnawed at you. In an attempt to shift your focus from the pain, the man holding you soflty interjected, “I am Kuai Liang,” he introduced. “May we know your name?

Struggling to articulate your name through clenched teeth, you managed to utter it in one breath. A faint smile graced Kuai Liang’s face. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, (y/n).”

“Speak for yourself,” growled Bi-Han from across the living room. “Just another fucking master we’re bound to serve.’’

‘‘I thought you wanted to get out of the book.’’

Kuai Liang’s sharp retort silenced Bi-Han, prompting Tomas, who was tending to your wounds, to interject. “And so am I, Tomas. Thank you for calling us into your service.” he said with a small smile that seemed forced, his dull greyish blue eyes lacking genuine emotion. As he carefully tended to your wounds and wrapped them in bandages, a sense of unease washed over you, causing you to squirm away from Kuai Liang’s grasp and retreat to the corner of the seat, eyeing the three men with a mix of confusion and discomfort.

“Can someone please tell me what’s going on?” you croaked, avoiding their look as your gaze involuntarily dropped to their lower parts for a second before you could prevent it, your cheeks burned with embarrassment. “And please cover up your bottoms. You can use the cushions.”

Complying with your request, all three men concealed their private parts with cushions. Tomas took a seat in the opposite double seat, while Bi-Han settled into the single seat. Despite your small apartment being already cramped, the presence of the three burly men made the space feel even more claustrophobic.

“Where would you like us to start?”

“From the beginning,” you replied, addressing Kuai Liang. “Who are you? How did you end up in that book? And why are you here now… Please, tell me everything from the beginning so that I can understand.”

“We are members of a clan called Lin Kuei, known for training assassins, and we are brothers,” he began. “Bi-Han is the eldest, serving as the grandmaster of our clan in the past. I, on the other hand, am the middle one, and Tomas and I served as his second-in-commands.’’

The revelation that they were assassins drained the color from your face, confirming your suspicions from the book cover. A shiver ran down your spine as you realized the chilling reality of being in the presence of trained killers.

“Many years ago, we encountered a demon named Quan Chi on a mission. As you can imagine, the mission went awry, and he sealed us inside this book. Whoever owns the book and says the words becomes our master, and we are compelled to fulfill their wishes and desires.”

Even if you sensed that the information was being presented with some omissions, you refrained from voicing your suspicions. They were strangers to you, and you to them, so expecting complete transparency without trust seemed unreasonable. While you had the authority as their master to demand the truth, approaching the situation in this manner didn’t sit well with you—it didn’t feel right, nor did it feel humane.

For God’s sake, the idea of being anyone’s master was abhorrent. The twenty-first century had arrived, and the notion of a master-slave relationship had long since vanished. It felt nauseating and profoundly unsettling.

“I am not your master. I can’t—I can’t be. No.” You attempted to stand up in panic, desperate to escape the situation, but your injuries held you back. Kuai Liang gently grabbed your arm, urging you to calm down.

“Calm down (y/n), your wounds are very fresh. You’ll make them bleed again.” You clung to his wrist, pleading with your eyes for assistance.

“Is there no way to set you free? I can’t accept this. This is—this is against humanity!”

With your words, a deep silence enveloped the room. As you observed their stunned reactions, it became evident that this sentiment was new to them. Your heart ached at the thought of witnessing these powerful men stripped of their freedom. Despite your fear, the realization knotted your stomach. They appeared intimidating and deadly, yet the severity of their situation suggested that past experiences had shattered them and stripped away their dignity. You couldn’t fathom how long they had endured as slaves within the confines of the book, but the outcome seemed all too predictable, casting a somber shadow over the room.

“Set us free?” Tomas’s voice echoed with longing, his desire palpable.

“Such a thing is possible, isn’t it? If you tell me what I should do I—”

“Why would you do that? What do you want from us in return?” Bi-Han’s voice sliced through your words, sharp and menacing. You fought to maintain your composure, avoiding freezing in your spot as his icy demeanor chilled the room. As your agitated gaze shifted to his pale, muscular arms, you were astonished to see a thin layer of ice extending from his hands. Were they truly made of ice?

“As I said just now, I can’t be anyone’s master, it’s in defiance of human ethics. If there’s any way I can help you, I’d like to do it. I don’t want anything in return except for this situation to end as soon as possible, I’m sure you want the same.”

“Do you expect us to believe that you are just a fairy godmother?” Bi-Han’s mocking half smile sent waves of unease through you. “You are not convincing at all, woman. Favors are done with an expectation of something in return.’’

“Favors are done for nothing; you don’t expect anything in return. That’s why it’s called a favor.” Emboldened by a hint of defiance, you met Bi-Han’s stern gaze head-on. “I can understand why you don’t trust me after what you’ve been through—”

‘’Don’t you dare,” Bi-Han shot up from his seat, his movement swift as a shadow. Suddenly, he was close enough for his breath, cold as winter air, to brush against your face. “Don’t try to empathize with what we went through. Do you think you know us now just because you’ve learned a few things?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” you said quickly.

“Brother, please sit down. If you talk like that, we won’t get anywhere.” Kuai Liang intervened, putting one arm between you and Bi-Han. Bi-Han glared at you intensely, his eyes slanted like those of a predator, then he took a deep breath. Watching the mist of his cold breath in the air, everything still felt like an endless dream—or nightmare. When he finally returned to his seat, Kuai Liang’s gaze turned to you.

“Thank you for offering to help, but unfortunately, we don’t know how to undo this dark magic.”

You ventured a suggestion that you hoped wouldn’t sound foolish. “We could try burning the book. I’ve seen it work in some movies.”

“We’ve tried that,” Tomas chimed in, joining Kuai Liang. “Several times. Whatever we’ve done, the book has never been destroyed. It’s protected by some kind of magic, just as it protects its master from us.”

“You spoke as if you had tested the last part before.”

In response, silence enveloped the room. Despite your efforts to stave off panic, the realization that they were assassins and the precariousness of your situation made you feel threatened.

“We have tried to kill several masters before,” Kuai Liang admitted frankly. “But there’s some kind of seal that protects them—you can think of it as a shield. It renders any attack ineffective. That’s why we were telling the truth when we said we wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Of course, if things were different, it wouldn’t mean you wouldn’t try,” you said, averting your gaze and clasping your hands in your lap. Another solution came to mind, prompting you to straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath before continuing.

‘’ If I can’t set you free, then you’re free to do as you please, go where you want. You don’t have to be stuck here.” you offered.

“You won’t give us orders? Isn’t there something you want us to do?” Tomas asked, surprised.

“No, as long as you don’t start killing people, you’re free to do whatever you want.”

“We’re not mindless killers,” said Bi-Han harshly, sounding offended that you would even think of them in that way. Kuai Liang interjected, softening his brother’s tone.

“We serve a noble purpose. We were, until we were sealed in the book… Our clan has been dedicated to protecting Earthrealm from dangers for centuries,” he explained, his gaze softening slightly as he made eye contact with you. “Thank you for the opportunity you’ve given us, but we can’t be away from you for more than a few hours. We have to get back here, to you.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “How so? Why? Do I have to say something else?”

“No, it’s part of the magic. It was designed to prevent us from escaping. When we’re away from our master—you, and this period becomes longer, we become weaker and weaker.”

“So at the end of the day… God, what cruel magic this is,” Gulping, you scanned all three men with a heavy heart. It must have been torture for them to endure this existence. Even as you spoke, your heart ached with empathy, imagining what they had been subjected to. Anger and sadness gripped your body as you contemplated their plight. “Is there anything else I can do for you? My house isn’t too big, but I want you to be comfortable during your stay here.”

It was Bi-Han who responded, his narrowed gaze resembling two thin lines, as if he were dissecting your sincerity. You couldn’t help but feel a pang as you tried to discern whether he believed you. While you understood his skepticism, winning their trust seemed like a daunting task.

“You can start by finding us clothes.”

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mokulule · 6 months

Text

The Number You have Called Cannot Be Reached - part 8

Part 1 | Masterlist

Ship: Dead on Main (Danny/Jason) Warnings: angst/depression and canon typical violence So I promised this like months ago, and then got overwhelmed by having to manage the taglist resulting in me not updating this fic despite actually having written the next part. So that said this is the last time I'm tagging people, please subscribe to the masterlist - I'm gonna link it both here at the top and at the bottom. Anyways enjoy the next part:

Jason could handle this. He had handled this for years. The Pits were a known enemy. It shouldn’t effect him to this degree. But he could handle this. He could go about his day without putting heads in duffel bags, that had got to count as a win. The fact that he was avoiding his family, was just a precaution. Jason had everything under control.

Not like when he’d fled the Cave after assaulting Bruce in his stupid sweater.

That had not been his proudest moment. But the thing that really got to him was how he didn’t remember doing it. He didn’t even remember going to the Cave. When he tried to think it was all a green haze. The last moment of real clarity was opening Ghost’s bag and seeing nothing but dry protein bars. Knowing in his gut this was all he ate and that he stood with his food, and no way to give it back to him.

When he had fled the Cave, he’d gone home shaking like a leaf, and sunk to the floor trying to get his head back on straight. He didn’t know how long he sat there with his back against the door, just trying to breathe and search his memory. Eventually, though he didn’t know after how long, he found his phone and looked up the news. It had been a great relief to find that Red Hood had not been sighted, so he likely hadn’t been out on a murder spree he couldn’t remember.

But now it was days later. There had been no more green hazes. Things were under control.

Maybe he hit a bit harder, and a bit longer, when he went out. But it was the normal amount? Wasn’t it? Definitely not much more than normal, if it was more. That he was sure of… like 80% sure of. Jason rubbed the front of his helmet in lieu of his brow - It didn’t really help. What had Bruce even said that set him off? He barely remembered, something that felt demeaning, but the words escaped him no matter how many times he turned them over in his head. Normally he wouldn’t question himself that like, of course Bruce would have said something demeaning, he always did. He didn’t trust Jason, never would again. There would always be suspicion and doubt. But now…

Jason’s hand clenched into fists. Now having been without the Pits’ influence, having seen Bruce trying to reach out to him, as awkward and resigned as it had been, he wasn’t so sure.

He wasn’t sure he could trust himself.

Maybe this was all Bruce’s plan? Another of his famous gambits - this one to fold Jason back under his control, with the pretense of love and family. Because surely he had been right all along and Jason needed to be watched, couldn’t be trusted on his own.

Jason ripped the helmet off his head, only barely stopped himself from throwing it. He gasped and breathed in deep, like a man drowning. He was the one in control, he reminded himself firmly. Not the pits. Not Bruce.

There was sound in his comms and he hastily pulled the helmet back on. Ghost had been sighted. He had to go. If he could just talk with Ghost, figure out what this was.

Ghost ran away. Immediately, as if he could sense Jason.

It was okay, Jason could handle this.

Oo o oO

Barbara tapped the space bar absently without actually pressing it. Keeping half an eye on her leftmost monitor which showed the program she used for the surveillance in Gotham, no persons of interest were pinging tonight so far, no alarms had tripped for about an hour. She had time to ponder the conundrum that was their reoccurring thief.

If the thief was building something the other night was proof the loss of the spectral calibrator, hadn’t put a stop to the progress. The thief never ran in the same direction so they still didn’t even have that to go by to narrow down where he stayed, when he wasn’t giving them the run around.

The odd reaction to Jason hadn’t made a reappearance. In fact the moment Jason joined them the thief disappeared immediately: density shifting into the ground. Jason was not happy about it to say the least.After the backpack full of barely edible off-brand protein bars had been delivered to the cave by Jason, Barbara would agree with Jason that whatever situation the thief was in, it was worrying if this was all that he ate. She still held by her assessment that the photographic evidence was of too low quality early in their run-ins because of the strange electromagnetic interference he gave off to actually judge if he’d lost weight - but he did look very gaunt now.

She leaned back in her chair. A cup of coffee was warm between her hands, she breathed in the familiar scent as she considered the known facts.

Name assumed to be Danny Fenton, potentially legally Daniel Fenton, though they’d been unable to find a match to his physical appearance and rough age in their databases. He hadn’t actually spoken to any of them, it was a very real possibility he was a foreigner, but they’d checked and he wasn’t wanted by any foreign intelligence services.

The phone was baffling.

It was a brick, and it looked like something from the early 00s, from around the time when handheld phones really started to be something everyone had.

Tim had asked for Barbara’s help after he hadn’t been able to recover the erased text messages for some days. Tim had filled her in on his discovery that while all the numbers coded into the phone led to a “the number you have called cannot be reached” message when called from the phone - some of the numbers were actually active when looked up; the Jazz one led to a pizza place and the Dad number led to an elderly woman with Chinese heritage who had no relation to anyone named Danny or Fenton. The rest of the numbers weren’t currently in use.

It was odd however that despite those two numbers being in use, they still got the cannot be reached message. Tim had suggested the program which made the phone able to piggyback on the mobile network without a sim was faulty, but it had been easy enough for Barbara to disprove by calling a local number which connected with no problem. Tim was brilliant but sometimes he got too caught up in his complicated theories that he forgot the simple things.

Her recovery program for the text messages had just finished running (this was her third attempt). She took a sip of coffee, leaned forward and promptly nearly spat it out when she saw the result. It went down the wrong pipe when she tried to recover and she coughed and sputtered. Carefully she put her cup on her desk before she spilled it.

Finally her airways were clear and she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Somehow this was Dick’s fault.

She had recovered the messages. They were there - time stamps and all. The last message received was over a decade ago in 2009 and wasn’t that ominous? But that was a side note to be pondered later, because the contents of the messages, oh this was malicious.

Somehow, before deletion every single message had been changed to “Ghost”.

Not just a single ghost, no, entire messages teasing at their original length, but just changed into ghost ghost ghost ghost ghost. A whole litany of ghosts.

And it was definitely Dick’s fault.

So that was it, hopefully I will be able to get back in the swing of things now. Commentary and tags are a great motivator and I read them all. As stated this is last time I tag people, so in the future you can subscribe to the masterlist or on Ao3 where the edited and hopefully better version eventually goes up.

Tag list of doom part 1:

#Jason is catnip to Danny #Missed Connections #dead on main #these next three parts are going to be following a theme #as Jason gets steadily more unhinged #sorry dear #it's necessary #dp x dc

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luvring · 2 months

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I'm completely obsessed with your Touchstarved headcanons, if it's not too much trouble, I was wondering if you could do headcanons of Ais falling in love with the reader/MC??

And maybe then do something similar to Vere, if it's not too much trouble

(sorry for my English)

AIS FALLING IN LOVE

gn!reader | it's almost valentine's day guys. THANK U!!! i'm glad u enjoy them ^___^ this got... long. but if u still want vere feel free to remind me and i'll probably make a post! ^^ i'm always inspired by these kinds of ideas...

it's more of a slow burn because he teases you but you brush it off as his personality rather than anything serious

he's intrigued by you! he finds your company entertaining if nothing else, or at least that's what he tells himself. whether you throw his banter back at him, or stutter at his quick flirtations, ais can't help himself from making up excuses to find you

one moment that sets an alarm off in his head is after he's gotten into some bar fight. the bruises and blood on his knuckles, scratch by his collarbone, and the way he winces when you touch his shoulder get your attention easily. he tells you he's fine, that he's dealt with worse, and that the other guy got totally knocked out, but you pull him along anyway to take care of him.

but ais hasn't had someone take care of his injuries in. a long time. so he's stiff and awkward despite your friendship at this point. his eyes follow your every move, and he doesn't even realize it until your eyes meet. you ask a simple "what?" and he tries to play it off by saying "nothing." ("you're cute when you worry." etc etc LOLL)

and you scold him, because seriously, can you just like, not get into fights. one day someone's going to break your nose or something, and then what? what're you going to do when you try to hit on someone and you're still recovering from a black eye?

you're saying it absentmindedly, making jokes to lighten the mood. but something about the way you carefully graze your fingers across his skin and bandage him gets ais Thinking. and it's really weird because he's silent, and he's never really silent when you try to joke with him, so you go quiet too, and now he's thinking even more, and have you always furrowed your brows like that when you're focused, have you ever been this close to him before?

i don't think i'd make this moment The moment of realization. it's sort of an introduction

other moments i can think of would be ais watching you get along with his pets, you catching him by surprise by fucking with him (some sort of prank), and the first time you guys are like, serious and sentimental for once.

. okay. the vere thing. fwb that got too close is different (in my opinion) to him just having an honest crush and wanting a relationship btw. the avoidance would be him not knowing what to do/being insecure rather than not wanting a relationship. in my mind at least.

ais with a crush is... Intentional. with the things he does. the signs he gives you. like from an outsider perspective, without your own insecurity or nervousness, it's Glaringly obvious.

more touchy. but he makes it casual and you start questioning it like ...? maybe he's just more comfortable with me because we're friends! (you're nervous because his arm is resting behind your head on the couch like woah) (doesn't move his leg away when your legs keep touching)

of course if you don't like physical touch his feelings would show up in different ways anyway. asking if you want to tag along to buy some things. remembering that book you bought and asking if you finally got around to reading it or if it's collecting dust on your shelf. or maybe it's moments where you ask him something about his past as a half joke, fully recognizing it isn't something anyone else really knows, and he tells you anyway.

still teases you though. obviously. you ask him to open your water bottle and he opens it then pretends to waterfall it into his mouth. takes a sip when you aren't looking but makes it really obvious he did when you look at him. at some point you knock on his door, ring the doorbell, call him, etc. and he takes like 5 minutes to finally let you in. and you're like what's your problem and he just shrugs like oh i didn't hear you (loser burnt his food and was trying to hide it + the smell before you saw)

anyway. i think ais falling in love is subtle moments that build up. glances that he doesn't turn away from when you make eye contact (he smiles and pretends like it's casual). teasing that's teetering on flirting, straight up flirting that for some reason doesn't get called out by you. him looking for you at the bar and relenting from a fight because you swear to god, you'll get such a huge headache, he'll be indebted to you for 3 weeks. him taking you home and making sure you feel alright in the morning.

and there's this tension because he knows, and you think you know, and he knows you've noticed (he isn't trying to hide it) but neither of you are saying anything about it and at some point someone's going to blurt out a confession and there's going to be a kiss and joke about How long that took and!!!

being in a relationship with him is basically what i've said. like you guys were already acting like it before you finally got him to say he wants to be your boyfriend LOL. just some pet names thrown in, official dates, no hesitation in affection you were scared about before

nia when do you think he'd say he loves you. ...! Haha. awesome question

realizing he loves you is easy enough. i can see different possibilities for that. at some mundane moment where he's watching you work on a hobby and explain it to him, or getting ready to go out and asking which outfit looks better.

orrr when you walk in on him doing a bit/prank and immediately play along without hesitation. when he witnesses you threatening/challenging some guy on his account (if you're the type to do that). no matter what, you ask him about it and he's kind of awkward because he thinks it sounds silly LOL

but saying i love you is different to realizing + showing it with his actions. That's where his hesitation sets in in my opinion. because he can be sure he does, be sure you love him, but saying it out loud isn't really something he's done before, and it's a sign this relationship is Serious y'know.

it's going to take...A While... if you wait for him to say it first. you're probably better off just asking to talk about it at that point, like, about your guys' feelings and saying i love you y'know. you can both promise to say it at the same time and then when neither of you say it accuse the other with "oh so you hate me?" before laughing and actually saying it! think about it. silly!

but if you say it that's different. maybe written in a card (he stares at it for a long time and debates what to do), casually while saying goodbye (he watches you leave and replays it in his head), saying it in an intimate setting (he stills and looks at you before smiling/laughing a little and commenting on how you beat him to it (he's grateful))

"love you" over "i love you" guy when it comes to casually saying it btw. also a big fan of annoying you, you saying "i hate you," and replying with "love you too."

sorry friends i have to stop here because my laptop is Quite Literally slowing down/lagging when i start typing atp in the post. somebody help me

@lost-lonnie @screaming-wea-sel @dreamtydraw @respitable @semifilms @hexcoeur @cvhenia @mitskiologist @leiiii-i @sweet-milky-tea705 @khalixvitae

#touchstarved #touchstarved game #ais x reader #ais #i cant tell if ive written something Really like this before or if ive reread it so many times ive tricked myself #....well.! a mystery. meow

241 notes · View notes

killshotbabe · 1 year

Text

Title | Creepin’

Pairing | University student!Mark x reader ft. nct dream (minor appearances)

Warning (s) | minors dni! NSFW, Use of swear words, really mean!Mark, stalker and simp reader, solo masturbation, rough handling (to reader), degradation, name-calling, dirty talk, choking, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting, smut, unprotected sex (please wear protection!), creampie, public rough sex

Word count | 2.8 k ish…?

Song(s) | Toxic - RealestK, U&I - The NBHD

“Hey, time to go.”

The familiar voice of your friend stirred you out of your nonsensical dream, causing what seemed to be an audible gasp from her when you reached out so suddenly, all startled.

“Dude.”

“It’s always this fucking bean bag, sorry.” You mumbled, letting her hand go. You carefully stood up to stretch, the mini blanket you brought landing on the carpet floor. “How long was I out?”

Your friend glanced on her wristwatch with a hum. It downed to you that it was indeed time to go when you saw her with her coat on, books on-hand. You retrieved your blanket off the floor and folded it carefully.

“Like two hours tops? Our bus comes in like fifteen.”

“Well, you can go. I’m gonna get my sis to pick me up later instead.” You say, wanting to stay at least another hour to make up for the supposedly “study” date but you were so exhausted and told your friend you’d take a twenty nap only to end up sleeping for two hours.

You didn’t tell her to wake you up after twenty though, and you didn’t set an alarm too thinking your body would do the favour for you but that was still a dumb decision especially when the small booth you rented with her had a really comfortable looking bean-bag where students rest or even go as far as sleep on.

Unfortunately, you’re always a victim (and so is everybody else).

“What! You’re ditching me agaaaain,” She grumbled, bottom lip jutting out trying to spite you but she knew you’d just chuckle at her cute efforts.

“You literally get off the bus after five stops and leave me dude. But seriously, go home your pup’s probably looking for you right now.”

“Right! Ok, fine text me when you’re safe and sound though ok? Don’t want to lose my “study” buddy who loves getting her beauty sleep.”

Your opened your mouth to try and come up with a smart insult but you sighed, a matching smile gracing the both of you.

“You had no right to say that! But hey, I’m often available for you so…”

“True! I’ll see you next time then and will text you if we end up renting a different booth.”

Your friend blew a flying kiss which you jokingly grimaced at and made sure to escort her out of the entrance, reminding her to text you when she’s home (and if she could send a pic of her new pup too through messages you’d truly appreciate that) before you made your way back to the booth.

The clock read 5:45 pm and the window was absent of any daylight, plunging the whole room in semi-darkness until you decided it would be best to turn the lamp on which had been plugged to the table for use.

You spend another thirty minutes typing up study material for the incoming finals season until you slowly packed your things, one hand trying to rub the threatening surge of sleep terrorizing your eyes.

You stretched your arms above your head before you slipped your coat on, humming to yourself as you informed your sister you’d be home a little later and to not lock the gates so it’d be easier for you to get in especially when it’s dark out now and there were way too many creeps lurking in the alleyways of your neighbourhood despite the cold mid-October weather.

You could get her to pick you up — the option was there but you like taking public transit even at this hour because you knew it’d still be somewhat full and if it wasn’t, you didn’t mind having time for yourself as you drown yourself in music from your headphones, gaze falling to the window next to you as you watched a whole strip of sidewalks and tall buildings with an occasional bridge on sight.

You saw your friend’s message and replied back to it too, grinning at the picture of her pup learning a new trick. You sent her a quick reply before heading downstairs to make your way to the second floor of the library. There were still a lot of people at this hour so you weren’t really worried about being alone at this time.

Sometimes, you do stay just before 10 am but that usually takes place when there’s a group research, or if you need to do more studying. Studying at home didn’t really work for you, especially when your desk is just right next to your cozy-looking bed so the university’s gigantic library was the best option.

You tuck your phone into your pocket as you rounded yourself into another wing, your brain automatically leading you to your destination; another row of open study booths near the science department.

With your headphones strapped on, you search for an empty table near the dim-lit hall, claiming the one facing one of the meeting rooms filled with students majoring in medicine. The room in front of you is usually booked by the same group of people, one of them being your long-time crush for two years now.

Mark Lee.

You grin to yourself when you propped your laptop open, noticing the familiar head full of dark hair above the transparent glass along with those signature doe eyes. You can’t see the rest of his face because of the frosted glass but you could tell what expression he had. He looked quite focus, typing something down so intensely. He would look at the speaker (that being Jaemin, which your friend knew since they did share a class once back when they were taking classes for faculty admissions) then nod to himself. He would raise his hand too for the sole purpose of sharing his opinions on whatever topic they’re discussing.

Sometimes, you find yourself wondering why you didn’t gun for nursing just like them but you weren’t good with blood and nursing didn’t interest you just like the rest of the medical-related jobs. It was on demand, yes, but you were perfectly fine with pursuing finance. It promised great money, though, it would have been nice if you were in the same field as your crush. At least then you’d have the same interest and that would count as some sort of a connection between you and him.

However, there’s a part of you not wanting to get it out there and to actually introduce yourself to Mark, try to see if he’d give you his number or go off the rails with your imaginations and delusions running wild in your head. You like to think you’re not that crazy, just a little weird for thinking about Mark that way when he could turn out to be the worst guy in the planet but so far, there was no indication of that or him having a girlfriend at all. If he had, you’d find out by now but even then, you think it won’t stop you from liking him for a reason you don’t really like to admit.

You liked to follow him around, peeking in small corners and sometimes attend some of his out-of-school activities with your friend or alone, and you were quite consistent, though you made sure you stood far away from him so you can watch him play and have fun without having him figure it all out and confront you as to why you’ve been steadily following him around for two years now.

You don’t even follow him on social media because his account is private but you do visit his profile sometimes, even going as far on keeping track of his friends with accounts set to public like Chenle, another promising nurse from their group. He would come through often with pictures that involve Mark and you would take screenshots here and there and save all of it in the hidden category in case your friend needed to use your phone.

Most of them knew about your crush on Mark but not to that extent.

One of them did go with you to attend two of his rugby matches but they thought it was just that and you weren’t going to go home to sift through any local newspapers online or stalk the rugby league he’s a part of.

You knew it was getting unhealthy, maybe it might scare anyone off if they did find out but you kept it a bay.

It was like your dirty little secret and crushing on him was just so fun, especially when he has zero idea about it all. You’ve never even made an eye-contact with him and you’re not really sure why that doesn’t upset you.

You just don’t want to be acknowledged, that’s all. It’s a bizarre thing to say but if Mark did find out and decided to do something about it, you think you’d probably want to run away and never be seen again so up until now, you did nothing to earn his attention nor tried anything to have him befriend you.

When you have decided it was time to go after what seemed like forever, you cast a final glance to where Mark and his friends were. They were still inside, no longer having a discussion but rather chatted about where they’re going tonight. It’s Friday after all and you know they always had plans every Friday. You made no effort to follow him when it came to that though… Not when you have no car and for some reason, you didn’t want to find out where he lived even when a friend told you they all lived in a suburban neighbourhood close by the university unlike you who resided on the north side opposite of theirs which required you to take two buses to get home.

It didn’t bother you though.

You’ve always wanted to attend this particular university even if you could have settled for the smaller one ten minutes from home, and if moving there for the sake of your safety (especially on nights like this) was on the table but that would mean you’d have to stop following Mark, you wouldn’t even opt for it. Not even in a heartbeat.

Mark, you find, is like some sort of a God you idolize. You think about him whenever you do anything, especially when you’re studying.

Seeing him be so diligent and fully committed in doing well in school inspired you to do same, if not better. So moving away from him would probably affect you drastically. You’ve had it in your head every passing time whenever you’re met with a possibility of getting physically assaulted or yanked off the streets in the dead of the night from university but whenever you make it back home safe and sound, it gives you some sort relief until it turned into an endless cycle.

And you weren’t going to give it all up.

He was your lucky charm through it all and you’d like to keep pushing until God knows when.

You’re not sure when either but you’re having fun and that’s all that matters, right?

“Yo, let’s go.”

Your gaze flew back to your keyboard, refusing to check whoever walked out of the room.

You waited until they all left, only checking back until you could only make out Mark’s black backpack as they headed downstairs. He wore all black today but kept his navy scrub pants on. You’ve seen him wear full on scrubs from time to time and he looked too great — his broad shoulders causing you to go all numb on the spot.

It was made for him and you couldn’t help but ogle whenever he put on fitted clothes. It gets even worse when you see him with his rugby uniform on, and although it’s a sin to admit what you do after every match you’d voluntarily attend just to see him play, you can’t help but release the ache you feel between your legs. Not only do you love his face but his lean, muscular body too especially his strong thighs.

There have been so many things where you dreamed of him having so close to you, even going as far as doing things to him you’ve never done to a boy before and it only spiralled to constant wet dreams that drove you nuts. It would piss you off quite often too because then you’d think about it whenever you space out in public which yanked you to a sudden jolt of embarrassment coursing through your bloodstream.

He was just so hot, and even if you felt guilty for having those type of sinful thoughts about someone who doesn’t even know you, you think it might be the “thrill” that drew your near the edge.

The thrill of him not knowing…

The thrill of him looking so busy and unbothered just a few feet from you when he gets you all worked up in your imaginations…

He doesn’t even know anything…

Anything at all…

You squeeze your thighs together, sighing under your breath as you waited inside the glass shelter, looking forward to go home and shower — specifically thinking of the new shower head you bought for yourself with different water pressure points, only using it for your pleasure with that one person wrecking havoc in your head like always.

It was fun. So much fun.

You find yourself being his shadow for the next month. It might have gotten worse, you think.

You’ve never touched him though.

By worse, it meant you followed him almost every day but made sure he didn’t actually notice. You were good with your methods especially now that you have car for a while since your mom will be out of town for two months if not more. She gave you the liberty of using it so you can get better at driving especially when it’s now the month of December and it started to snow heavily, making it difficult for you to take the bus home.

You hum, unbuckling your seatbelt as you parked right in front of moon drive in, a diner Mark and the boys frequented to. Sometimes there would be girls tagging along but none of them were with Mark. You did come close to hearing one of them flirt with him though but he’d only laugh it off and you can’t help but snicker to yourself as you listened to their conversations behind your seat.

This would be the fourth time you went. It was originally for the purpose of “following” Mark but you find yourself coming back for your usual — classic fries and a chicken burger paired with a strawberry milkshake.

You even brought one of your friends here last week but tonight you came alone craving a fast food fix. You didn’t even think of Mark at all but much to your surprise, he was actually there with Haechan and Renjun (more names to label very familiar faces) and they were laughing about something you can’t quite pinpoint.

It was around midnight now and you planned to just do a take-out and go straight home so you waited inside, acting oblivious about them being there.

It didn’t take quite long until your take-out bag was ready so you made a move, walking out of the diner and to your car. You think of how gorgeous Mark looked tonight even if it was just a quick glimpse you had greedily stolen before you drove off, a grin on your face.

What you didn’t know though, was when your back was completely turned to them when you were paying for your order, Mark spared you a glance, head tilted to the side.

And when you left, you completely missed the way he smirked at you on your way out.

“Ok, that’s enough studying for me I think my head is about to explode.”

You’re back in the library at the main campus now just a few weeks later. You actually studied without a break this time and took it like a champ even if the exhaustion from your head had mentally taken over, giving you a pounding head ache.

“Are you leaving now?”

You yawned, gesturing towards the clock behind your friend. “It’s almost sunset.”

“Yeah, and I gotta meal prep for next week.” She cleared her side rather quickly. Next thing you know, she was all packed up and ready to go. “Don’t stay in too late ok?”

“Maybe. You know I got a car now so I’d probably overstay.”

She raised a brow with a giggle. “Yeah, yeah you smartass. See you next week then?”

“Sure! Careful on your way out it’s snowing again!”

In a hushed silence, you inwardly groaned and began packing your things up as well to head down the second floor to see if Mark was there. You heard from a friend of a friend of a friend that he had the flu so he might not be there today but it didn’t hurt to check so that’s what you did.

Surprisingly though, a different group took over the room Mark and the boys rented so you made a detour, checking to see if any of them are using the gym tonight. You knew Mark, Jaemin and Jeno would frequent over there and honestly, you might have started having a little crush on Jeno too so you make your way down to the separate complex for that one purpose — if Mark wasn’t there, then Jeno would do, and maybe you can hit up the treadmill for a bit to cross the “stay active” off your to-do list for today.

You don’t even know how your attraction for Jeno started actually. Jeno was always there, all smiley and always bickered with Jaemin but ever since his jet-black hair started growing longer behind his nape, something shifted in his aura and you liked it. He’s just as conventionally attractive as Mark and he too, had a great body. You found out that one time when you saw him doing waterpolo with Jisung which made you go a little crazy.

You don’t know much about him though, so Mark was still your number one of course.

None of the boys were in the gym tonight but since you’ve always wanted to use the treadmill without the gym being too overly crowded, you decided to do just that. You spent forty minutes on it going between slow and vigorous before you called it quits and gunned for the shower to wash away the sweat on your skin.

No one was in the showers so you didn’t bother hiding your modesty, even going as far as being fully naked in the dim-lit hall as you darted in the last stall, music blasting off your phone you left on the bench just a foot away along with your belongings.

You let the warm water cascade down your body, eyes closing at the calming sensation it brought as it washed the sweat and stress away into the drain under your foot. You stayed in until the clear mist from the hot water climbed into the atmosphere, wrapping around you like a cloud of comfort. You then hummed, soaping up the curves of your body as you feel yourself get lost in your thoughts, suddenly thinking of Mark when you snaked your hand to cup your sex, already slick with pure arousal.

You practically shook, feeling how too sensitive you’ve gotten when you continued your erotic ministrations before you slipped in a finger in, a sweet moan spilling out of your throat. You fingered yourself whilst standing, free hand cupping and pinching your hard nipples as you let your fingers do you wonders, ultimately sending you over the edge when you thought of Mark’s skilled tongue playing with your clit before he fucked you with just that, eating you out like a starved man you imagined him to be when eating pussy.

You held yourself, growing weaker against the tiled walls as you slowly regained full consciousness after going through such euphoric state, smiling to yourself. You eventually darted back out, wet hair in a bun and took the elevator because you didn’t have the strength to take the stairs especially after doing all of that.

It was then you realized, as you headed to the front door, that you’re quite stranded in the building for now. The snowstorm had gotten worse. You couldn’t even see anything through the glass walls.

“You waiting for the bus?” The security on site asked. “Doesn’t look that good out there.”

“No, I drove here but… yeah, looks like I gotta wait it out.” You nod your head in agreement, a little pissed off at the sudden turn of events.

You knew the weather was unpredictable lately but you thought it wouldn’t get this bad until tonight.

“Check again in an hour maybe? If not, the library is open 24/7 so… you know how it goes over here.”

You didn’t look forward to that all but if staying here overnight was better, you had no choice. You didn’t want to risk anything, not when you’re still a novice driver. You’d be playing with death if you still chose to suck it up and try to drive in this type of weather.

“Yeah, thanks. Have a good eve sir!”

“You too, young lady.”

You texted your sister about the current weather and how you’d probably get home later or might sleep here overnight if the snowstorm doesn’t lay off with a pursed lip then took another detour, going back upstairs to the lounge area and see if there’s a spot you could rest at for the time-being. You find one overlooking the parking lot where your car is but made sure you’re tucked away from the students preparing for their finals so you can snooze in peace which you succumbed to right away, missing the fact that Mark had gone his way back up, slightly frustrated at the bad weather.

When he saw your sleeping figure hiding in a dark corner though, he could only raise a brow.

Your wristwatch read 10:45 pm by the time you woke up, panic in your eyes when you realized you’ve overslept. The floor you’re currently on had gone too quiet, so quiet you thought you were the only one left if it’s not for a small number of students typing away furiously, one of them sipping on a coffee cup.

The weather had been better so you take that sign to leave, yawning your way to the elevator. You were still quite sleepy and so out of it you haven’t even even realized you were not alone in the elevator as it brought you to the basement when you were meant to press ground floor.

It didn’t even hit you until you simply walked out, met with a plethora of cars only to stop on your tracks, seeing as this was not the ground floor.

You were about to turn around and head back to the elevator when a strong arm yanked you to a dark corner, making you gasp.

“How was it?”

Your eyes rounded in shock as you registered the very familiar face just inches away from yours. You have been caged between his arms, your back to what looked like the sleek, black car he drove to the campus. You weren’t sure if you were still dreaming because if you were, you didn’t want it to end.

“Mark?”

You swallowed a lump in your throat, quite dazed seeing him up close. He’s way too gorgeous, doe-eyes pinning you down. The smell of his clean cologne making you sigh in frenzy, but he didn’t look too happy.

He chuckled darkly, his grip around your wrists tightening like he meant to hurt you.

“I don’t even fucking know you.” He growled, deadly poison coating his words. “You’ve been following me around, haven’t you? How was it? You had fun?”

“N-no.” You lied, your eyes practically quivering in excitement. Was this real life? “I wasn’t following you.”

“I’m not dumb.” He squinted in annoyance, scrutinizing the way you reacted to his confrontation. “What the hell do you want? I even saw you at the diner. It’s not funny anymore.”

You wanted to laugh, but you liked the way his torso brushed against yours. You couldn’t help but to felt something aching in between your thighs again. He came off mean, which is something you didn’t really imagine, but you loved it so much. It drove you to something more sinister so you pressed on, pretending you’re so damn clueless about what he’s trying to get out from you.

Like you were so innocent… So unaware of it all.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re saying that when you know my name.” He clenched his jaw, losing a bit of his patience due to your playful nature which he didn’t really expect. “Admit it already. You’re caught.”

You could only grin, blinking slowly at him as you watched his chest rise and fall against yours. You could feel your nipples starting to be harden the more he got closer. Oh, how you wished for days like this to come true… You wanted for it be a literal dream but this was so, so much better.

“What if you’re wrong? I could report you.” You joked, watching him attentively. He smelled so damn good you were having a hard time trying to resist him so badly.

“Nothing to report when I have receipts. You think you’re slick?”

Your smile widened. Receipts? So turns out, he was creeping on you too it seems and you don’t know how to feel that, about all of this when you’ve fought so hard to keep your secrets under the wraps, forever tucked away from anyone to see or find out.

But Mark wasn’t oblivious. He knew there was something off when you would show up to his games even if it rained. He asked his team mates if anyone of them knew you but no one did, and for a couple of days he thought it was because you liked watching Rugby until he caught you taking a picture of him walking out of the diner. It all came together when he would notice you occupying the lone table facing the room him and his friends would be at quite often so he took it upon himself to puzzle everything together and made the connection.

There was no last straw, however.

At first, it was quite charming. It was a normal thing for him even in high school with so many girls chasing after him but he started seeing you everywhere he went and that made him a little insane which then lead to a strong desire to confront you, preferably alone without the usual friend you’d come with for study sessions, and much to his dismay, tonight was the good time.

He thought about approaching you about it in nicer way, but the “nice” demeanour had dissipated and he thinks it’s because you’ve started to look at Jeno too.

Was it jealousy?

He didn’t even like you like that. You were an actual stranger to him, so why is he suddenly so worked up about you possibly being into Jeno, too?

“Oh, you keep ‘em?” You tried to wiggle away from his vice grip but he just made it worse, further catering to your suffering. “Hey, you’re gonna leave a bruise on me…”

“Don’t care.” He placed your arms over your head now, your sweet vanilla scent catapulting him away from the scandalous thoughts of him making you suffer as you whined for him to let go but he refused. “Don’t change the subject and answer my damn question. Why are you doing this?”

“I just… like you.” You admitted truthfully, the funny feeling in your stomach making you sigh, eyes searching something in his but all you saw was pure anger mixed with something you hoped might be true. “I didn’t touch you or show up in front of your house so I don’t get why you’re so angry, Markie…”

The pet name.

He thinks his friends wouldn’t let that slip but he knows where you got it from. It wasn’t a play or a coincidence. He knew what you were doing but he couldn’t stop that pet name from rolling out of your tongue. It did nothing but have his blood rush straight to his dick.

“Don’t call me that.” He huffed, too aware of the way your hard nipples pressed against his. “You don’t know who you’re trying to provoke.”

“What do you mean?” You wondered, almost moaning at the hard ridge of his cock pressing on your clothed cunt. You couldn’t believe it. He was so hard. Did he love that pet name so much? “You’re so hard… Are you still angry?”

“Stop!” He suddenly yelled, backing off you when you attempted to grind on him.

You let your hands fall loose to your side, watching his pretty features crumble but his eyes were still burning a hole through your head and you think that if you don’t move now, he might just take you and show you what hell feels like.

“If that’s what you want…”

You diverted your gaze down to his pants, mouth watering at how hard he’s gotten. He looked big and it made the ache between your legs more mind-numbing, your growing wet cunt pulsing around nothing. You gradually advanced to him, testing the waters before pinning him to the wall, the difference between your heights so drastic it almost came off funny but he let you run your hand down from his chest, to his abs then finally, to his hard-on painfully standing upright in his pants.

You’ve never even attempted this to anyone before but suddenly, you had the full reigns of what he started and you weren’t going to let him win.

Or so… you think.

“Stop it…” He exhaled heavily, almost begging as he clamped his eyes close when you bit his ear, licking the shell before you placed an open-mouthed kiss to his jaw, your surging arousal practically bubbling up you think your underwear wouldn’t be able to hold it up if you kept up with this. “I don’t even know you.”

“But you’re reacting quite the opposite.” You stopped to look at him in the eye, yours and his equally blown with nothing but lust. “You like being watched, Markie?”

He didn’t respond as his hands formed into fists. You were just about to kiss him on the neck again when he grabbed you by yours, quickly flipping your positions.

You whimpered in pain when your back collided against the brick wall, about to cuss him out for handling you like that when he crashed his lips into yours. He went in too hard until your bottom lip started to bleed after he bit into your soft flesh, his palm flexed around your little throat, choking you but not enough to render you unconscious.

There was a muffled “mhmff” from you as you pounded your fists against his chest, unable to breathe from how rough he was kissing you like he was about to eat you and swallow you up with no mercy. You were about to bite him back when he lets you go, trapping you against the wall, the sweet taste of his minty mouth mixed with your blood causing you to lick your lip, tasting iron, ignoring the fact that it stung all because of him.

If anything, it didn’t anger you at all but aroused you even more. You liked the fact that he was like this to you.

“I didn’t want to do anything with you.” He declared with a glare, but his next move proved otherwise. “But I’m not letting you touch me like you own me.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too late now?”

You didn’t miss the way he came closer and the way he darted his mean gaze from yours and to your bleeding lips. You didn’t even bother wiping it off as you remained still, too entertained with the fact that he just kissed you. Hard.

“Did I give you the green light? No.” He whispered, sounding so cynical. “But I could touch you. You’ve violated me enough so I think it would be fair for me to do this, no?”

You were about to speak when he shut you up with his callused hand tight on your mouth, his free hand snaking down your hip to cup your pussy through your jeans. Your held your breath, knees about to buckle from the way he rubbed you in circles. You were so taken back, the violent rush of pressure sending you over the moon.

“You’re so desperate and insane. You kinda make me go a little crazy, but you don’t deserve to touch me.”

He bit through his words with so much hate as you grew weaker against him, unable to contain the shrill excitement and carnal desire hitting you like a truck. If he kept this up, you would probably cum in your jeans so you started to whine, grinding on his palm and begging for him to do something about it.

“Mark… Please…”

You let out a shaky gasp when he did allow you to speak, his head disappearing into the crook of your neck to kiss you there, way too turned on with the noises you were making and how you’ve gotten so fucking wet he can practically feel it through your jeans. He can’t help but bite your shoulder as he slipped his long, slender fingers inside your jeans groaning at how fucking soaked you were for him, it was almost embarrassing for you but you didn’t care. You wanted him to see how much you desired him.

You attempt to touch him but he quickly swats you away, telling you to keep your hands to yourself.

“I could fuck you with my fingers right now bet it’d just slip right in, huh? You’re fucking wet. Aren’t you ashamed?”

“N-no!” Your head fell back as your knees wobbled. You place your hand on his wrist as he played with your arousal, smearing it all over your clit and pussy lips. “God,”

“Hands off or I won’t fuck you.”

Was all he chided before you let go, keeping your hands flat to the wall as he slipped a finger inside your throbbing hole causing you tear up when he began pumping inside you in a exhilarating speed you thought you were going to pass out from too much pleasure it brought you. It got so bad that you had to cover your mouth, stopping yourself from screaming as the loud squelching of your wetness could be heard between the both of you.

“So fucking tight,” Mark scoffed coldly, liking the way you were taking him in, like your pussy was made for him and his fingers only. He couldn’t help but wonder if you can even take his cock too but he wasn’t going to let you have it easily.

“Faster… p-please!” You closed your eyes, tears falling nonstop you were so sure he’d be able to bring you to the edge with just his fingers. “I’m close, fuck…I’m-m.”

“I know you are, you dirty whore.” He pinned you deeper to the wall, slightly losing it when he felt your walls squeeze him, sucking his fingers further into your warm cunt. “Bet you thought about this in your sleep, right? Is this better? Now that I’m fucking you like this?”

“Yes!” You fisted on his shirt, mouth gaping open as he drove you closer into another orgasm, more powerful than all of the times you touched yourself combined and he hasn’t even fucked you with his cock just yet. “God! Mark, fuck!”

“Dirty fucking mouth you got,” He hissed, pumping his fingers faster and harder, repeatedly hitting your g-spot. “Keep it open if you’re such a good girl.”

Your mouth had gone slack as he coaxed your orgasm closer, your eyes shut tightly as your back arched for him, but just before he could let you cum, he yanked his fingers out of you making you swear out loud in frustration only to have him shove his fingers into your mouth, forcing you to taste yourself.

He loved how flushed you look and he thinks you’re prettier this way — all fucked out from just his fingers.

“You like how you taste?” He snarled, watching you lick the arousal off his middle finger whilst you whimpered at the sudden loss of contact even if you were so damn pissed for being edged like that. “Good, take it all in, yeah?”

“You’re an asshole.” You pulled his fingers out of your mouth with a loud pop followed by a scowl. “I was so close—”

The side of your face suddenly met the wall, Mark having to push you and have both of your arms on the curve of your back. You bite your lip upon realizing what he’s about to do next.

“I’m not that generous.” He placed his knee between your thighs, spreading them wider for him after he pulled your jeans down to your ankles along with your underwear. “Shut the fuck up and behave.”

You feel him move as you braced yourself, your pussy aching for his hard cock to be in you when you see him kneel on one knee behind you. You were about to say something when his tongue delved into your pussy, flicking it up and down to your folds, his hands grabbing a handful of your ass, groping you from behind.

“Fuck-fuck! S-so good, so good-d Mark…”

You babbled, right fist thumping to the wall with your left fully unzipping your coat so you could slither your free hand inside your shirt to cup one of your breasts as he slipped his tongue inside your wet hole, quickly bringing you back to the peak of your orgasm. You felt him lap your wetness in your pussy lips like how you’d imagined him to do, one of your hands going down south to play with your now swollen clit, ultimately sending you to you to the edge.

You hear Mark swear behind you as he stood back up, slapping your ass when your legs shook uncontrollably. You took a sharp breath before squirting right on the cement and on his shoes, your hand still putting pressure on your clit, rubbing it in fast circles, spurts of clear liquid draining out of you too violently.

You thought you actually blacked out, only gaining full consciousness after you had squirted in front of him, the sound of him unbuckling his belt faint to your ears. It didn’t register that he was actually going to give it to you until he shoved his cock inside your soiled pussy in one go, the sudden stretch burning you. You nearly screamed and toppled over only to have him shut you up as he began pounding into you relentlessly, cursing at how good you took him so well.

“Fuck, I wasn’t gonna give it to you but you squirted you cockslut! so, so desperate for me huh? Is that it?”

His breathing shallowed as he tried not to cum inside you right there and then. You were so damn wet and too tight around him it felt amazing, way too amazing he thought he was going to lose it for a minute there but he fought to control himself, wanting to fuck you dumb and watch you cry as you struggle with his size.

“M-Mark!” You moaned loudly in defeat as you tried to open wider for him, his big cock rendering you numb and helpless like how he wanted it. “Wait, shit! God… oh my god…”

You pressed your hand on top of his which was now loose on your mouth until you urged him to slide his index finger inside the wet cavern of your sweet mouth, sucking on it to suppress your cries, tears dripping down your cheeks and on the floor along with the pool of your arousal from squirting minutes ago.

You whimpered pitifully, too overwhelmed with the brutal burn of his cock inside you as he fucked you faster and harder than before until your slick wetness coated his entire cock, the sound of skin slapping echoing off the walls. It wasn’t so long until the both of you finally reached your climax— with you coming hard first and out of nowhere which led him to spill his cum inside you after telling him you were clean and on pill which made it so, so much better.

You remained still, catching your breath as he collapsed on your back, his nose nuzzling your nape. The whole aftermath felt almost romantic, you thought.

“You keep my cum inside you like a good girl so you can keep a memory of me when you get home, yeah?”

He whispered in your ear with a certain bite, tone so wicked it brought shivers down your spine, and when it was time to face him after shamefully tugging your underwear back up, careful not to spill any of his cum out of you, you weren’t sure what to do so you wait until he fixed himself up before saying something.

“Hey.”

You tried to smile, but you were still so high from having sex with him in the basement parking lot you couldn’t help but to chuckle, not believing that this, in fact, actually happened.

“Don’t think we’re friends or anything.” He said, not looking at you as he smoothed his shirt down from you fisting on it earlier. “Don’t even know you like that.”

For some reason, you had already accepted it and seen it like that but still, you knew he had truthfully enjoyed this too. You can tell from how he’s looking at you right now or so you hoped.

“But can I… still like you?” There was a crack in your voice. Your round eyes practically begging him to change his mind about you.

“Sure, just stop liking Jeno.”

You stared at him in confusion, unable to discern how he came up with such accusation but it tickled your fancy. It actually made you tilt your head to down, tongue poking the side of your mouth, clearly amused upon realizing what he meant by that.

Guess you were so bad at hiding your tracks…

“Jeno?” You teased. “Your friend?”

“Stop liking him and I might just give it to you again. That’s it.”

“Oh, Markie,” You drawled seductively, the pink hue of your fair cheeks from post-sex rendering Mark sort off in trance-like state. You’re a pretty face for sure and he can’t deny that after all. “You only want me to be for you? As your play toy? How did you know?”

You attempt to touch his face only for him to grab your wrist with a vicious sneer.

“Don’t think you’re the only one watching.”

A sardonic grin graced his beautiful face, distracting you for a moment before he pulled you closer to him as if it was such a natural thing to do, his lips already brushing lightly to the shell of your ear to whisper what seemed to be a dire warning — like a harsh brewing storm about to wash you away and drown you into an endless abyss you can no longer escape out of.

“I’ve been watching you too.” Your mouth parted upon his confession as he nipped on your ear, his arms wrapping around your waist, fully claiming you. “…And I might be worse.”

A. N | Mark is currently bias wrecking me so hard right now I’m literally fighting for my life so I just had to let my frustrations out by writing this in one sitting. :)

#mark lee smut #mark smut #nct smut #mark lee x you #mark lee x reader #mark x reader #kpop smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #markleeyoumakemecraaaazy #killshotbabe #one shot smut

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ddejavvu · 9 months

Note

Meiiiiiiii I have an idea for a blurb/fic if you're interested!! It's actually inspired by the dream I had last night :))) Remus and I (reader in this case) were best friends but Remus had a huuuge crush on them. One day they were at reader's place and reader asked him if he wanted to try some skincare stuff. He was kinda shy and insecure at first because of his scars but accepted anyway. He ended up laying in bed while reader rubbed some facecream on his cheeks and poor boy fell asleep </3 (please excuse my awful grammar :)))

"Eyes closed," You remind Remus, who's peeked a total of six times now. Really, he can't help himself. You look absolutely gorgeous hovering above him, your tongue poking out from between your lips as you concentrate on painting the gel mask over his features.

"You're sure this is okay for scar tissue?" He asks, his words muffled as he tries keeping his face still.

"Mhm," You hum absentmindedly, tracing the hinge of his jaw with the brush, layering green goop over his skin. "It'll make your skin nice and soft, Remus. It's not a peel-off, don't worry. You just let it sit there, then massage it in."

"I don't wanna get my hands sticky," He fights the urge to wrinkle his face into a grimace, and you line his nose with the stuff.

"I'll do it," You offer, trying to inject confidence into your tone that you don't really possess.

The timer that you set for the face mask to settle feels like a time bomb, ticking down the seconds until you have to - (get to?) - touch Remus's face. You've brushed a hair away from his eyes in passing, smeared chocolate off of his chin, but nothing like you're about to do.

When the alarm sounds you shut it off, tentatively reaching for his gooey face. Most of the paste has settled into his skin, and what you carefully rub away is more grainy, its moisture having done its job. He hums when you dig your thumbs into the apples of his cheeks, and his eyes flutter open once again to meet your own.

You don't need him to keep his eyes closed anymore; nothing's going to get in them. But you can't handle looking into his eyes while you caress his face, so you remind him, "No peeking."

"Sorry." He murmurs, lips brushing the heel of your hand as you rub the mask into his nose, "'Feels good."

"Just relax," You urge, praying he doesn't feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks, "I'll wash it off when you're done."

Despite your weight over his hips as you straddle his lap, he drifts off into sleep. You notice it when his breathing flattens out, his inhales aren't rugged or mismatched anymore. He's serene as you smooth the gel into his skin, and you almost feel bad when there's none left to massage onto his face.

You take a damp washcloth, clearing his skin of the leftover gunk. He doesn't wake, and you're sure it's only aiding his slumber to have a wet warmth patting down his face. You dismount awkwardly, not sure how to proceed now that he's not conscious to tell you what to do. You consider napping with him, but that feels far too intimate, but you don't want to leave without saying goodbye.

What you settle on is a bold kiss to his forehead, one that you lean down to peck against his freshly moisturized skin. That's all the courage you have, though, and once your lips drain it to his temple you bolt for the door.

You're going too fast to catch the faint smile that works its way across his no-longer-chapped lips, but it's the one Remus always has on his face at the sight of you, so you'll see it a thousand times more to come.

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kitkatscabinet · 7 months

Text

KINKTOBER 03 - Drugged

John Mactavish x f! Reader

Warnings: non-con, drugged reader, delulu Soap. This is fucked up. For @bunnyreaper <3

Your head was pounding, mouth full of cotton as you attempted to gain your bearings through squinted eyes. Any attempts to sit up are met with immediate and violent protest from your body. The world lurches and you practically fall in a boneless heap against the mattress.

In your brief struggle to orient yourself, the blanket covering what you realise is your naked body, had slipped down to your waist. Exposing bare skin covered in various bruises and bite marks.

Horror seized your body, bile filling your mouth as your still fuzzy mind caught onto the implications of what had happened. Tears filled your eyes, blurring your already fuzzy vision, as you desperately tried to recall what had happened.

Despite your best efforts you remember nothing but arriving at the small party that had been thrown in your honour. A recent promotion had come your way, something that required you to transfer bases, thus the joint celebratory/farewell party.

Had you really gotten so drunk that you’d fallen into bed with someone? Unfortunately, the door opens before you have time to properly gather your thoughts. Your visions still not the best but as the figure gets closer you manage to make out a few distinguishing features.

“Mactavish?” The hoarseness of your voice leaves you cringing a little. He’s close enough that you can see his brow furrow, bottom lip jutting out slightly in a pout.

“Thought I told ye to call me Johnny.” He sets what you now realise to be a glass of water and plate of some sort of breakfast down on the small wooden bed side table as her perched on the mattress. “How’re you feelin?” He raises a hand to gently cup your cheek, blue eyes gazing adoringly into yours.

To say you’re confused is an understatement. You and John Mactavish didn’t exactly run in the same circles, more than acquaintances but certainly less than friends. Even if his eyes did seem to intensely focus on you whenever he was near.

“What? What happened?” You manage to get out, just barely managing to prevent yourself from flinching at his touch. His frown deepens even further at your words, hand dropping from your cheek and your heart begins to pound.

“You don’t remember?” There’s a palpable hurt in his tone. Not good. Even in your unnaturally lethargic state, your instincts are screaming.

Bits and pieces had come back to you, but trying to remember felt like staring directly at the sun. Though you do remember leaving with Soap, his concerned blue eyes flashing in the forefront of your mind at your drunkenness. “I… everything’s a little blurry, remind me?”

“Ye had a bit too much to drink, I brought you home, sobered you up.” His words are clearly not the entire truth, the evidence of what he’d done painfully evident on your skin. He must realise what your silence met as he continued on with a smile as if there was nothing wrong.

“Wanted to wait till you were awake for our first time, but you were so gorgeous lying there, teasing me in yer sleep tha’ I couldna help myself.” He apologised, pressing loving kisses on the inside of your forearm.

You want to scream. Tears already sliding down your cheeks at the verbal confirmation of what you already knew.

Warm hands are instantly cupping your cheeks, attempting to wipe your tears before your face is peppered with kisses. There’s slight alarm in his tone as he says “don’t cry lass, hate to see your pretty face covered in tears that aren’t from pleasure. It’s ok.”

Suddenly the blanket, your only shield, is thrown away and John’s mass is on top of you. “If I’d known you’d be so upset about forgetting our first time then I’d have waited. Let me make it up to ya lass.” With that he’s dipped his head down to claim a nipple between his teeth.

You screech, uselessly weak arms attempting to shove his head away as your panic reaches an all time high. He simply huffs through his nose in amusement, and to your horror let’s out a satisfied groan as your nails scrape against his scalp.

He lifts his head abruptly to claim your lips in an open mouthed kiss. It’s an aggressive clash of teeth and spit as his tongue greedily darts into your mouth. He takes your moment of surprise to bury his already hard cock in your ill prepared pussy. His mouth swallowing your surprised shriek of slight pain as he pants in bliss.

He sets a brutal pace immediately, giving you no chance to adjust as his hips piston relentlessly. Soap only pulls away from your mouth to babble a string of expletives as he hooks one of your legs over his shoulder.

“S’fuckin perfect, so pliant and perfect for me, sucking me in where I belong” he grunts, hands gripping bruises into your hips. You’re powerless to do anything but take it, shaky arms scratching at his chest only eliciting a laugh.

To your horror, the pain doesn’t last, your body betraying your minds will as one hand snakes down to roughly press on your clit. His thumb moves in slow circles, greatly contrasting the increasing speed of his thrusts as he mouths at any available skin he can reach.

Involuntarily you moan, clenching down on him as the assault of pleasure becomes too much.

“There’s my good girl, doing so well f’me” Johnny's voice is a little strained, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your chest as his movements falter. “Need you to cum for me lass” he grunts, and before you can attempt to stop yourself, you do, eyes fluttering shut as you whine pathetically loud.

The feel of your tight walls clenching down on him even harder proves too much for Soap and the dismayed cry you let out at feeling his cum full you is overpowered by his groans.

The sound of the door opening has your eyes shooting open, a sliver of hope filling you as someone else steps in. John on the other hand, doesn’t seem to care about the intrusion, his hips continuing to move as he overstimulates the both of you.

As the figure steps closer you finally recognise Ghost, though all your hopes are cruelly snuffed out when he speaks. “Johnny you done? People will get suspicious soon.”

You didn’t think you could spiral into even more despair but Ghost’s words shatter you. Soap is decidedly very unhappy with the news, though mercifully he pulls away, letting your body rest.

Seeing the devastation on your face Soap frowned, leaning down to place a loving kiss on your forehead. “Don’t worry bonnie, I’ll be back soon, and then we’ll discuss your attempt at leaving me.” With that he followed Ghost from the room, locking the door behind him and leaving you to your despair.

#x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #cod mw x reader #kinktober 2023 #tw noncon #cod john mactavish #john mactavish

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0cta9on · 3 months

Text

Unlikely Duet - 5

length: +5k words

Genre: Fluff

NewJeans Minji x Male Reader (OC)

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★

Yuno’s POV

The light patter of the rain was a reminder of how this all started. A chance encounter, a gut feeling, a gesture of kindness, all of these different choices were woven into the fabric of fate and led me here - eating dinner with Minji and her rich (and terrifying) parents. No matter how I twisted it, this is not at all how I thought I would spend my friday.

“The rain is getting bad out there. I’m so glad we caught you before you went out in the rain, we would hate for a friend of Minji’s to get sick,” Minji’s mom remarked, her warm, motherly smile concealing something that set off alarms in my head. I kept my guard up, no matter what.

Minji sat next to me, a worried expression painted on her face. She hasn’t said anything since discovering the blood stain on my sleeve from my altercation with Tyler. I wanted to say something to her, anything, but it was impossible in this tense atmosphere. The guilt of not being able to tell her the truth was eating me up inside.

“Dinner is served. Eat as much as you like, dear,” Ms. Kim says, gesturing to the food she had set on the table. An array of different side dishes I had never seen before surrounded a large roasted fish adorned with sauce and vegetables. My stomach grumbled at the sight. It was more food than I had ever seen in my entire life, and it didn’t help that I was also starving from not eating anything the entire day. Without thinking, I quickly grabbed a little bit of everything and piled it onto my plate. Right as I was about to dig in, I noticed the shocked expressions of Minji’s parents.

“S-sorry… I-I’m hungry,” I stuttered sheepishly, earning a small chuckle from Minji. I felt the heat cover my face as her parents got their food, taking much smaller portions than I had. Right as I pick up the spoon to my lips, Mr. Kim clears his throat.

“So, Yuno,” he begins, focusing his gaze on me. “How long have you been friends with our daughter? Minji never mentioned you before.”

Regretfully, I place down my spoon as I think of an appropriate response. “Uhh, we’ve been friends for…” I turn to look at Minji, hoping to find an answer, but her eyes are glued to her plate as if she’s lost in thought. “Three days. We’ve been friends for three days.”

Mr. Kim’s eyebrow rises slightly in surprise. “Really? And how did you two end up meeting?”

I gulped, my mind going back to the circumstances of our first meeting. Sure, I’ll tell one of my only friend’s parents that I met her in the detention room after beating someone up to the point of hospitalization. They’ll totally love me after that, right? Thankfully, I have an easy out due to Minji’s lie from earlier.

“We got partnered together for science class,” I state, trying my best to sound confident. Mr. Kim narrows his eyes as he studies my expression. I stare back, not wanting to show weakness in front of him.

“What do your parents do for work?” he asks. The questions were starting to feel a bit too personal, but I would rather not risk going against him.

“My dad works the night shift as a security guard,” I responded. Despite seeing him passed out drunk everyday, he somehow managed to maintain his job all these years. Either that or he never bothered to tell me he got fired.

“And your mom?”

“She’s, uhh…” I glance at Minji for a brief moment, hesitating to answer. “She’s dead.” The room falls silent as each member of the Kim family looks back at me with a mix of shock and sympathy on their faces.

“I-I’m sorry to hear that, dear,” Ms. Kim says, her intimidating demeanor replaced with genuine compassion.

I shrug in response. “It’s fine, it was a couple years ago. I’m okay now.” I stare down at my plate, unable to look any of them in the eye. Truthfully, I was never completely okay with my mother’s death, but what was I supposed to do? Cry in front of them?

Mr. Kim opens his mouth to say something, but his wife stops him. “Honey, you should let him eat,” she says in a stern tone. Mr. Kim relented, and a sense of relief washed over me as I was silently grateful for her intervention. Not only was the onslaught of questions exhausting to face, but I was also still hungry. The rest of the dinner was spent in silence, aside from the clinking of silverware against porcelain and the rhythmic downpour outside.

______________________________________________________________

I lean back in my chair, completely stuffed. Every single bite of food had more flavor than I’ve ever had in my entire lifetime. As intimidating as Minji’s parents were, they were also amazing cooks. I peer outside and notice that the rain had stopped. Taking my chance, I stand up and excuse myself from the table.

“Thank you for the meal, but I should really get going now.” Before they had a chance to respond, I swiftly exit the room, grabbing my backpack. Right as I reach the front door, Minji’s voice calls out to me.

“Wait!” she exclaims, trailing after me. “I’ll walk you home.” I give her a confused look as she turns to her parents. “It’ll give us a chance to talk about the project some more. Just like you say, every second counts.”

Mr. Kim contemplates for a moment before nodding. “Alright then. Be careful, and don’t be out too late. Your mother and I want to talk to you once you get back.”

Minji follows me outside and shuts the door behind us, releasing a long sigh as she leans against the wall. “That was soooooooooo stressful. I’m sorry you had to go through all that, Yuno.”

I chuckle lightly, joining her on the wall. “It’s alright. I’ve survived worse.” We stood together in silence for a while, the chilly evening air gracing our faces, infused with the lingering scent of rain. Minji is the first to break the silence as she turns to me, a look of sadness in her eyes.

“I’m sorry about your mom. I had no idea she was…” Her voice trailed off as she avoided saying “the word”.

“It’s okay, Minji. Really.” I give her a reassuring look as we both head start walking towards my house, the gentle moonlight guiding our path.

“She died in a hospital fire three years ago,” I began, my voice carrying the weight of the past. Minji looks up at me, listening intently. “She was a nurse. Very caring and loved helping people. Even as the building was burning all around her, she spent the last moments of her life helping people.” I fall quiet as my gaze falls to the ground in contemplation.

“Yuno…” Minji reaches out and pats my shoulder reassuringly. “I’m so sorry.”

My legs freeze in place as I turn to look at her. The chorus of chirping crickets and the subtle howl of the evening wind created a backdrop as I met Minji's saddened eyes. What was she apologizing for? The fire wasn’t her fault. It was an act of fate, a cruel twist beyond anyone’s control. Some higher power up there decided that my mother’s life would be cut short, whether I liked it or not. There was nothing I could do about it.

“Minji…” I call out her name as I unravel my sleeve, revealing the blood stain. “I got into another fight. Tyler McGraw.” I did my best to keep a straight face, but my heart was thumping with anxiety. “He was beating up a freshm… He was beating up my friend. I couldn’t control myself. I’m sorry.”

Fate has a sick and twisted way of working. It brings people together, and tears people apart. Any single one of us could drop dead without a single warning if it willed it. Our entire lives we spend making decisions that we think will matter in the end, but at the snap of a finger, all those efforts could be in vain. Yet, here I stood, disclosing my vulnerabilities to the person I expected the least. Whether this is a blessing or a curse is yet to be seen, and I’ll be damned if I don’t see this until the end.

Minji’s expression shifted from sadness to disappointment to confusion as her mind processed the information. I could do nothing but stand there, vulnerable and exposed as I awaited her response.

She lets out a heavy sigh. “How is your friend?” she asks, her gaze fixated on the ground. Her disappointed tone felt like a knife stabbing through my heart.

“He’s okay, I think. Your friend with the glasses helped us out.”

“Danielle?” she says, looking up at me with a surprised look before clearing her throat. “Well, that’s good. What about Tyler?”

I scratched my head, averting my gaze as I searched for the right words. “He’s uhhh… He’ll be out for a few days. Maybe a week. Or two,” I admitted sheepishly. Minji pinched the bridge of her nose as I stood there like a child who was caught red handed.

“You were just… protecting your friend. I’m not gonna fault you for that,” she says, pushing past me. I was left in shock at her unexpected understanding. “What are you standing around for? I said I’d walk you home. Come on.”

I pick my jaw up off the ground and catch up to her, leading the way to my house. We spend the rest of the walk in silence, tension hanging in the air. I stole a couple glances at her, but I couldn’t read her expression at all. Is she mad? Disappointed? All of the above? Before I knew it, we were face to face with my front door.

“This is my house,” I say bluntly.

“Okay. Bye,” Minji says with an unusual coldness, turning to leave.

“W-wait,” I stammer, calling out to her.

She turns around, her expression blank and unreadable. “What?”

“Are we… still friends?” I cringed, feeling a pang of embarrassment at the vulnerability of the question. Minji chuckles in response, a genuine smile gracing her face for the first time in a while.

“Yes, we’re still friends, silly.” The tension in the air dissipated and my heart felt as light as a feather as a sigh of relief escapes my lips. “You’re a good person, Yuno. I just wish you would stop getting into trouble.”

“Cool. Um, good night, Minji.” I wave awkwardly at her as she leaves. “U-uh, get home safe!”

Minji giggles, the sweet sound of her voice echoing through the air. “Good night, Yuno!” Her smile imprinted itself into my brain as I watched her silhouette fade into the night.

I’m greeted by the dark and desolate state of my living room as I enter my house, but all of it fades away as an unfamiliar feeling of elation stirs in my chest. I trudged to my bedroom and collapsed onto my bed, the events of the evening taking their toll on me. Meeting Minji’s parents was exhausting, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t happy that she considered me as a friend. As my eyelids slowly flutter shut, visions of Minji flashed through my head, invading my dreams.

______________________________________________________________

Minji’s POV

As I walk through the door, I see my parents sitting on the couch waiting for me. I gulp as a steady tension fills the air.

“Minji. Have a seat dear, your father and I want to talk to you,” my mom says in a serious tone. A thousand thoughts fill my mind as I wonder what they could possibly want to talk about.

My dad clears his throat, his eyes meeting mine. “This Yuno boy… We don’t want you hanging around him.”

I felt my heart drop in my chest. “W-what? Why?”

“He seems… sweet, but we don’t think he’ll be of any benefit to you in the future,” my mom explains. “Once you two are done with your science project, we want you to cut all contact with him.”

A mix of anger, confusion, and sorrow welled within me. “B-but-”

“No buts, Minji. You should be grateful that we still let you talk to Hanni,” my dad interrupts. “If you want to be successful in life, you must surround yourself with those that are like minded. Frankly, I don’t see that boy amounting to anything.”

I tried to argue, but my voice got caught in my throat. It would have been pointless anyways since they never listened. Without another word, I stormed upstairs to my room.

“Minji!” I ignored my father’s calls as I slammed my bedroom door behind me before collapsing onto my bed. Why were they always like this? Why couldn’t I just be friends with anyone? Tears welled in my eyes as I pulled out my phone, calling Hanni. After just one ring, she picks up.

“Hey girl, looks like you got your phone back, I wonder who gave it to you,” she answered, giggling.

“Hi Hanni…”

“Oh no, what happened?” she asked, her tone shifting as she noticed the sadness in mine.

“I’m just so… frustrated with my parents. It hasn’t even been a full day since they’ve been back, yet I’m already so exhausted.” I snuggled with my bear plush, hoping it would make all my problems go away.

“I’m so sorry, Minj. Do you wanna talk about it?”

I let out a heavy sigh. “Not really. I’d rather forget all about it.”

“Hey, I have an idea! Why don’t we go to the fair tomorrow with the girls? You’ve been stressed enough with all the prom junk, you deserve to have a break.” she suggested.

“Ehhh, I’m not sure, Hanni. I would love to, but I’m not sure if my parents would let me go.”

“Girl, just tell them you’re going to the library with Dani to study. They’ll have to say yes!”

I hesitated for a moment, contemplating the pros and cons. On one hand, my parents would absolutely kill me if they found out, but on the other hand, a break does sound nice. For the past couple months, my life has been nothing but school work, studying, student council meetings, and prom preparations. I’ve rarely had any time to just have fun. Steeling my nerves, I made up my mind.

“Okay. Let’s do it then,” I say, my heartbeat quickening with excitement and anxiety.

“WOOOOOO!!!” Hanni cheered through the phone. “We’ll pick you up at three, you better be ready by then.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle at her elation. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow then. Good night, Hanni.”

“Good night, girllllll.”

I hang up the phone, placing it on my night stand before falling onto my pillow with a sigh. Tomorrow would be fun for sure, but what about after that? What if my parents found out that I lied to them and went to the fair? Would I be able to live with the consequences? I shake my head, trying to dispel the worries from my mind. Regardless of what will happen afterwards, I was determined to have fun and mess around for one day.

______________________________________________________________

Yuno’s POV

I jolt awake from an aching pain shooting down my back. My body had gotten so used to sleeping at Minji’s house that I forgot how shitty my own mattress was. Heading downstairs, I’m surprised to see my father not only completely conscious, but he was also cooking breakfast. And it smelled amazing.

“Uh, hey dad,” I grumbled, half-convinced I was in a dream.

He startles, almost as if he was surprised to see me. “Yuno. M-morning,” he stuttered nervously. “U-uh, why don’t you have a seat? I cooked up some breakfast.”

My hunger trumps my confusion as my legs carry me to the table, adorned with a traditional breakfast of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. I quickly dug into the feast, almost choking on a piece of bacon in the process.

“Slow down there,” my dad chuckles lightly. “I guess I haven’t been doing a great job of feeding you, huh.” The gloom and regret in his tone were palpable while his eyes were fixated to the floor, avoiding mine.

I pause mid-bite to look up at him. “It’s fine. I managed.”

“It’s not fine.” Anger tinges his voice, directed more at himself than anyone else. “S-sorry, I just… I should’ve been taking care of you. Your mother’s death was hard on both of us, but that’s not an excuse for me to neglect you. I want- No, I need to make things right, Yuno. Will you ever forgive me for being a terrible father?”

A flood of emotions overwhelms me, freezing my body in its wake. After my mom died three years ago, my father turned to alcohol to numb the pain. I never blamed him for it; she was a bright light in both of our lives and her absence left us completely shattered.

I gulped, suppressing the swirl of emotions bubbling within me. “Y-yeah, dad. I forgive you.”

A smile grows on his face - the first time I’ve seen him smile in years. “Thank you, son. I promise I’ll be here for you from now on.” A strange choking feeling constricts my throat as tears begin to well within my eyes. I rise from the table, turning my head away.

“Where are you going?” my dad asks. “You should eat some more if you're hungry.”

“U-uh, I just remembered, I uh have plans with some friends today,” I lied impulsively. I’m not sure why I lied, but all I knew is that I needed to get out of the house.

“Friends? That’s great, Yuno. Go out and have fun, don’t worry about me.” The smile that grew on his face only made me feel worse about lying. I quickly grab a hoodie and $20 from my room, not bothering to change out of my sweatpants. Right before I leave through the front door, I turn to my dad, who’s washing the dishes.

“Bye, dad,” I called out to him, a memory of my five year old self doing the same thing flickering in my mind.

“Bye, Yuno. I’ll see you later,” he waves as I close the front door behind me.

My dad sobering up after all these years is a great thing. I should be happy for him. Yet, I couldn’t knock this strange feeling in the back of my head. I took a deep breath in, hoping the cool morning air would help clear my mind. The sun casts its warmth on my face as I begin walking aimlessly. With no plan in mind, I decided to head to the convenience store.

The familiar jingle of the convenience store door chimes as I step inside, the pungent scent of cooking hotdogs assaulting my senses.

“Good morning, welcome to- Yuno!” Winter greets me with a mop in her hand, her demeanor much more upbeat than what I’m used to seeing from her.

“Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were working today.”

“I’m just filling in for one of my coworkers who’s out sick. Are you looking for anything in particular? We just restocked on the ramen you got last time,” she offered.

I hesitated, contemplating the answer myself. “No thanks. I just needed to get out of the house.”

“Are you alright, Yuno? Did something happen?”

“No? I don’t know, I’m all conf-”

“YUNO!!”

A short figure appears out of nowhere and attempts to tackle me from the side. My instincts kick in, allowing me to dodge the attack and grab the back of the assailant’s collar.

“Who the fuck-” My eyes widen in shock as I see that my attacker is none other than Yujin. A white medical eyepatch covers his black eye, but the rest of the wounds on his face seemed to have healed overnight. “Yujin? What are you doing here?”

“He came to visit me at work,” Winter answers, mopping the floor. “It’s been a bit slow this morning, so he offered to come hang out until my shift ends.”

“Yeah, I even told her all about your epic battle with Tyler!” Yujin says, beaming up at me. I release my grip on the back of his shirt as my cheeks burn slightly from embarrassment.

“It wasn’t epic, it was… Whatever. Where the hell is the ramen?” I groan as I drag my feet towards the ramen aisle.

______________________________________________________________

The three of us sit at a table in front of the store, enjoying the gentle breeze. Warm, spicy ramen broth slides down my throat as I finish the bowl.

“It’s such a nice day outside,” Winter comments. Her eyes are shut with contentment as she leans against the table.

“We should all do something fun since the weather is so nice!” Yujin suggests, his eyes beaming with excitement.

With no actual plans for the day, I had no choice but to agree. “Sure. Why the hell not.”

Winter nodded in agreement. “Where do you guys wanna go?”

My mind went blank. I have no idea what people do for fun, let alone these two. When was the last time I had fun anyways?

Yujin hopped out of his seat, a twinkle of elation in his smile. “We can go to the fair! It’s been forever since I last went. What do you guys think?”

I scratched my head in contemplation. It’s not how I imagined spending my weekend, but my life hasn’t exactly been predictable as of late. The fair did sound… intriguing. “Okay. I’m down.”

“M-me too,” Winter added. “I haven’t been to the fair since I was seven. I wonder if they still sell those chocolate chip cookies I used to love.” As if on cue, her stomach loudly grumbled. I couldn’t help but chuckle as her cheeks grew pink with embarrassment. A group of students walked past us, entering the store.

“I-I should get back to work now. I’ll text you guys when I’m done,” Winter said before disappearing into the store.

“We’ll see you later, Winter!” Yujin called out to her before turning back to me. “Hey Yuno, what’s your number? I’ll make a groupchat with the three of us.”

“Don’t bother. I don’t have a phone,” I said before walking off. Yujin followed closely behind me, bewilderment painted on his face.

“What?! What do you mean you don’t have a phone?! How do you even live?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Never needed one,” I answered simply. It was the truth - up until now I had no one to text or call. Social media seemed like a waste of time and my dad was always too drunk to wonder where I was when I went out.

“That’s crazy. Let’s stop by my house real quick, I can lend you my old phone,” Yujin says.

“You don’t need to do tha-”

“You helped me out twice, alright? This is the only way I can repay you, so just take it.” There was an adamance in his voice that made it difficult for me to refuse.

I relented with a sigh. “Fine. Lead the way.” Yujin grinned at me before pulling me in the opposite direction towards his house. The bright rays of the sun washed over us, filling me with a sense of calm. With how weird the last couple of days have been, it felt nice to be outside.

“By the way, my grandma doesn’t speak much English, but I can translate for you. I don’t bring friends over often, so she’ll probably want to talk your ear off,” Yujin says, chuckling to himself.

“That’s fine. What about your parents? I ask rather bluntly. His expression darkens, sending a pang of guilt into my chest. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay, Yuno,” Yujin reassures me. “I lived with my parents back when I was still attending my old school. I wanted to stay with them, but they thought it was best for me to live with my grandma after they found out how bad I was being bullied. They would freak out if they ever found out I was being bullied here too…” His gaze fell to the floor and his shoulders slouched, his usual vibrant energy dissipating in front of my eyes. Feeling guilty, I place a hand on his shoulder supportively.

“Don’t worry about it. No one’s gonna mess with you anymore.” I awkwardly patted Yujin on the back, hoping it would cheer him up even a little bit. Thankfully, it ended up working as his frown was replaced with a small yet hopeful grin.

“Thanks, Yuno. I think my parents would like you.” I kept my mouth shut, grappling with the uncertainty of whether Yujin’s parents would like their son hanging around with someone who kicks the shit out of bullies just because he can. We soon arrived in front of Yujin’s house, which was similar to all the houses in the neighborhood, save for the pair of rocking chairs decorating the front porch.

“Before my grandpa died, my grandma and him would sit in those chairs to watch the sunrise together. That’s kinda cute, don’t you think?” Yujin’s words hung in the air as he unlocked the door. I could only offer a nod as my understanding of romance and the like was nonexistent.

Upon stepping into his home, we were immediately greeted by Yujin’s grandmother, resting in a large reclining chair. The two of them exchange words in a language I can’t recognize, and Yujin says something makes his grandma smile.

“Grandma said that you’re very tall and handsome,” he says, chuckling. A rush of warmth tinges my cheeks, caught off guard by the unexpected compliment.

“O-oh, uh, tell her I said thanks. I guess.” Yujin relays my message, triggering a bout of laughter from his grandma that eventually transforms into a coughing fit.

“Yujin, are you back alre- Oh jeez.” Danielle suddenly rounds the corner, carrying a saucer with a cup of tea balancing on top of it. Her casual attire of a simple yellow t-shirt and jeans was a far cry from the cold aura she normally exuded in her school uniform. She places the cup of tea on the table next to Yujin’s grandma before turning her attention back to me.

“Yuno. Hello,” she greets, glaring at me through her glasses. I nod back, bewildered by her presence in Yujin’s home.

“Danielle and her mom are helping me take care of grandma. They’ve been really helpful ever since yesterday.” A genuine smile illuminated Yujin’s face, inadvertently softening Danielle’s expression. It immediately hardened as her gaze went back to me. “I just stopped by to give Yuno my old phone to borrow since he doesn’t have one of his own. Isn’t that crazy?” he explains to Danielle.

She scrutinized my expression with steely eyes, sending chills down my spine. Minji’s parents may have been scary, but Danielle was a completely different beast. “You’re just giving it to him? He’s not, I don’t know, threatening you to give it to him?” she interrogates. I instinctively rolled my eyes at her words while Yujin simply laughed it off.

“It’s the least I could do to repay him for…” He gestures to his eyepatch, cautiously glancing at his grandma, who drifted off to sleep without anyone of us noticing. Yujin’s phone suddenly buzzes in his pocket, revealing a text from Winter. “We should hurry, Winter’s shift is ending soon. Come on, Yuno!” he says before running up the stairs. I quickly follow behind him, not wanting to be left alone with Danielle.

Yujin’s room is the epitome of a stereotypical geek’s paradise. The walls are lined with a colorful variety of superhero posters, accompanied by some drawings he had done himself. On the far side of the room, a shelf is filled to the brim with action figures, fake weapons, and a single first place trophy for a “Junior Art Competition”. His desk is the complete opposite of Minji’s, half-finished drawings, eraser shavings, and colored pencils scattered along its surface.

“Sorry about the mess, I would’ve cleaned up if I knew you would be coming over,” Yujin says as he rummages through a drawer on his desk, pulling out a phone. “Here. It’s not much, but you’ll be able to call and text people, and you can download some games on there if you want.”

It was smaller and less impressive than most phones I’ve seen people carry, but I couldn’t complain. It was better than anything I’ve had before (which was nothing). “Thanks,” I utter as I take the phone from his hands. “I’ll, uh, keep it safe.”

Yujin chuckles as he leaves his room. As we reach the bottom of the stairs, he suddenly stops. “Oh shoot, I should probably give you the charger too,” he says before darting back to his room. I turn around to wait for him in the living room, only to find Yujin’s grandma beckoning me with a wrinkly hand. As if I was in a trance, I suddenly started inching towards her, like a snake being hypnotized by a flute. She muttered in my ear in perfect english: “Please take care of Yujin.” Her message was plain and simple, yet I was still filled with questions. Before I could ask any, however, she was already fast asleep. I was starting to wonder whether or not I imagined the whole interaction.

“What are you doing?” Danielle asks from across the room. Somehow, I failed to notice her presence this entire time.

“N-nothing, she just… Sorry,” I stutter awkwardly. With impeccable timing, Yujin appears from the stairs with a phone charger in hand, saving me from this awkward situation.

“Here you go, Yuno. We should head out now, Winter oughta be done with her shift by now,’ he says. “Bye, Danielle!”

Danielle waves at Yujin as we leave, shooting one final glare directed at me right as the door closes. I inspected his old phone, turning it around in my hand. Aside from a couple essential apps, it was completely bare bones, and even the lock screen was nothing but a plain blue rectangle.

“I should probably add your number to the group chat now, huh,” Yujin says, pulling out his phone. After a brief moment, I feel the phone vibrate in my hand with an audible buzz. A notification on the phone reads, “You have been added to a group chat!”

“There you go! If you ever need to talk to either of us, just send a message and one of us is bound to answer!” He flashes me a wide toothy grin that I silently snicker at. A vivid memory of my childhood suddenly plays in my mind - a timid only child playing with his imaginary siblings. I never brought it up with my mother when she was alive, but I always wanted a younger sibling to play with and take care of. That want manifested itself into an imaginary younger brother that played with me when no other kid would. Of course I’ve long outgrown that phase by now, but something about Yujin is eerily similar to the imaginary younger brother I had before. Or maybe I’ve finally gone insane.

“So.. the fair. What’s it like?” I ask him.

“What?! You’ve never been to the fair before either?! How on earth are you even alive right now?!” Yujin exclaims, his eyes growing wide with disbelief. “As your friend, it’s my job to ensure that you have a fun day at the fair. Now let’s hurry up, Winter is probably waiting for us.” He grabs my arm and pulls me forward, running to the convenience store. A small grin grows on my face as the wind blows past my ears.

______________________________________________________________

“Are you two ready?” Winter asks us as she steps out of the convenience store. She’s dressed in a flowery sundress with a forest green cardigan layered over the top, a contrast to her plain work uniform.

“Yup, we’re all ready! I got some extra cash for the subway,’ Yujin says.

“Subway?” I ask. My hand shoots into my pocket, fingering the $15 I have left and regretting my decision to buy ramen that morning.

“Don’t worry about the subway, we can just use my metrocard,” Winter says, pulling out a shiny plastic card from her purse. I let out a sigh of relief, although I can’t help but feel bad for not being able to pay for myself.

“Alright, let’s hurry before the lines get too long!” Yujin skips ahead of us with the excitement of a child bringing home a new toy, eliciting a giggle from Winter.

The sun flashes its light into my eyes, casting its warm glow on my skin. A light fluttering fills my heart with each step, and for the first time in years, I felt hopeful for what the day would bring.

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