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sukirichi · 3 years

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home from war | sukuna x reader

Home from War | sukuna x reader

featuring: sukuna x reader (historical au) with small moments of megumi x reader

warnings: very mild suggestive content, mentions of manslaughter and slight yandere tendencies + a toxic sukuna + angst + not proofread :D

part two!

How does one soothe their lover who’s come from war?

You ponder about this carefully, eyes dark as you let your gaze travel from the opening door. Sukuna comes in, bare chest littered with cuts caked in mud, blood, and dirt, and you see the way the grip around his katana falters just a little bit. The room is dark – it is late at night, after all, and you had stirred awake in your accidental slumber from waiting too long for him to return home – but you see him under the darkness clearly. Way too clearly.

Those markings on his face you so dearly love don’t even seem threatening. You seriously question your sanity at this point because he is the Ryomen Sukuna; King of Curses. It’s no secret that he does as he pleases, taking someone’s life as if it was second nature to him, claiming territories, wealth, and even people as if they were his own.

You should be scared, and in a way, you are.

But not in that way.

You’re scared because his shoulders slump, those once burning red eyes fluttering close as he drops to his knees on the floor. Without wasting another second, you leap off the bed, your arms wrapping around his figure. He reeks of death, and before you know it, you wash his exhaustion away by peppering his face with the pads of your lips.

Sukuna hums, pulling you closer to him until there is no space between skin, his neck nuzzling in your face. “I’m home,” his lips brush the bare skin of your neck, his breath warm and ticklish. “I made it home to you, my love. Safely like you asked.”

Your heart clenches at his words. Immediately, you bite down your tongue and blink back the tears that threaten to fall. Safely? You want to snap back, your nails almost raking down his back. This is hardly considered “safely” when his knees wobble as you guide him inside the bath, nearly unable to keep his eyes open as you wipe away his cuts and the other remnants of war present on his body.

“I’m sorry,” his voice echoes in the confined walls. You don’t even realize the tears had fallen until his rough, calloused hands brush a tear away. He tilts your chin upwards to look him in the eye, lips trembling when those devilish eyes soften – reserved for you and only for you – and Sukuna sighs through his nose. “I wish I could stop the war, but — ”

“It’s not possible,” you finish for him, forcing a smile to help ease his worries. At this point, you’re conflicted between wanting to scold him to not leave the temple anymore and just stay with you, but you also know why Sukuna doesn’t do that.

It’s because he wants to keep you safe. As long as you were around, Sukuna would go the moon and back just to keep coming back home to you. Perhaps that was the most painful part – the fact that you knew he wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t met you. Sukuna was the fearsome King of Curses, powerful and undefeated even after a thousand years, but he wasn’t omnipotent. Hundreds of jujutsu sorcerers have lost their lives trying to defeat them, and it took about a hundred more deaths before they backed off at the realization he couldn’t be defeated or exorcised.

Until you came.

You were Sukuna’s weakness, the chink in his armour, his Achilles heel.

The moment it was known that Sukuna kept a lover, they just kept coming. The war begun. Soon enough, your days of rolling around in bed with him, trapped under his arms and weekends spent in whines of each other’s names disappeared.

Sukuna has a temple to defend. A lover to protect. A woman to cherish. A soul to treasure.

It was all because of you, and you know better than anyone else that he was tired. But he’d never tell you that. He would still scoop you in his arms; pull you closer by the hip so he could lay his ears on your chest, eventually falling asleep with the sensation of your fingers massaging his scalp while you hum to soothe him. The sound of your heartbeat has Sukuna exhaling rhythmically minutes later.

The notorious King of Curses, bundled up in the arms of his lover, completely relaxes in the privacy of his shared bedroom with the woman he loves most. It was as if the war didn’t happen at all. He sleeps with a small smile on his face, sleepily mumbling your name and reaching up to kiss your smooth skin every now and then.

It was perfect. It was heaven.

But that wasn’t you.

Because you are not her; you are not even human. You listen to all this on the other side of the temple. If you were anyone else, someone like her, then Sukuna’s intimate moments with his lover would be private – something that would be kept and cherished only between the two of them. But you aren’t human.

You are a curse born from people’s heartbreak and grief. You don’t even remember how you came to life; your first memory hazy of nothing but endless pain and so much anger you lost yourself. Until he came.

Ryomen Sukuna; the King of Curses – he adored you.

Finally, he met his equal. A curse equally as powerful and blinded by darkness, hatred, and bloodlust – you were one of the rare curses whose presence he enjoyed, and it didn’t take long before he invited you to his temple and offered a seat next to him.

You are Ryomen Sukuna’s right hand warrior, his greatest partner when it comes to battle. If he was powerful before, people feared you both even more when you joined powers. He didn’t go to war without you. For days on end, you and Sukuna would traverse villages and slaughter kingdoms to fill the emptiness gaping in your hearts, but he changed when he met her.

That fragile, meak, little human that loved him and changed him.

Because of her, even you are forced to join this war against jujutsu sorcerers. It’s been a long war – consisting of ten days and waning red moons. You and Sukuna barely came out unscathed this time, the Gojo clan seems to have something else under their sleeves, and your yukata had been ripped open in pieces while blood washed over your body like water.

You and Sukuna came back tired, weak, almost defeated.

You lay your back flat against the wall, teeth attacking your bottom lip while you pour potions over your cuts. At the other side of the temple, Sukuna is already fast asleep, safe in the arms of his lover. And you? You couldn’t even let out a small noise of whimper. Sukuna’s heightened senses would pick up on it, mistake that it would be his precious little woman in his sleepy daze, and you don’t want him to be further agitated.

Besides, once he realizes that it was just you, he would only go back to sleep.

Because he knew you didn’t need him, not in that way. You were the Curse born from Heartbreak, possibly the only ever person who would know pain and suffering the same way he did, but that isn’t true. Sukuna wouldn’t understand that this is your suffering – to have him within grasp but out of reach, to know that he was always with you, that he loves you just the same, but not in the way you want him to, not in the way you need him to.

To him, you are his beloved friend and partner in crime.

You are not the one who soothes him when he comes from war. You are not the one that gets to feel his harsh tongue soften at the first contact of your lips, to have the privilege of having rough hands that easily tortured others to be gentle as he dips his hands in the dips and curves of your body. You are not the one who gets to see him when he wakes up and he smiles half-lidded. You are not the one who gets to kiss his pain and wounds away, to wipe his tears from his cheeks because looking at you makes him wonder how lucky he is to have you.

Instead, you are the one he brings to war with. You are the one he trusts to keep her safe, to watch his back and guard all possible blind spots during war. You are the one who jumps in front of him when a blast of fire is on his way, and you are the one who heals his wounds in the battlefield when he grows too weak. You are the one he laughs with when you’ve both decapitated the enemy, growing only stronger with each passing day under the belief maybe both of you could rule the world someday.

But does any of it matter?

You always believed that you were okay with it, that having him trust you with his whole life, enough to have you sleeping under the same roof as him, was everything you needed. But after she came, you watched him fall in love, and you felt pathetic.

You could never have him.

You could never have what they have.

Sometimes you wonder, what if you just said it? In those nights where nothing but the moonlight illuminated both of your blood-stained faces, chests rising up and down as it both rumbled with laughter, discarded glasses of alcohol thrown on the ground – it would’ve been the perfect moment, wouldn’t it?

Though deep down, you knew the answer.

Sukuna wouldn’t love you, couldn’t love you. He wanted someone to protect, not someone to fight wars with. He wanted someone to come home to, not someone he wrecked homes with. He wanted to listen to someone’s dreams and passions – all of the things you didn’t have because you were born out of pain, living in pain, and Sukuna was the only thing that soothed you for a bit.

Your breaths came out raspy as your wounds began to close up. The stench of blood remained on your body, the red liquid drying up.

Sukuna wouldn’t want an impure woman like you. It makes sense he loved her. She was as bright as the sky while you were as dark as day, and when she laughed, she lit up the whole room. You don’t laugh, you don’t even smile. The only times you ever got to feel that sort of happiness was when you were still a fresh-born curse, a wild Sukuna more than glad to teach you of his ways.

It’s okay, you lie to yourself, crawling back to your bed while ridding yourself of your clothes. You would shower later; sleep needed to come first. Curses like you don’t really need, but you were too exhausted – inside and outside – that for once, you want to submit to healing.

As you close your eyes, you hear Sukuna stir in their room again. The sounds of faint lip-locking echo in your ears, making you slap your palms on the sides of your head, but you hear it, you hear it, you hear it, you hear it.

“How is Y/N?” she asks worriedly, her dainty, small, and innocent fingers that could never harm a fly brushing against his skin. Warm.

“She’s fine,” Sukuna rasps tiredly, “She’s a little beaten up, but she’s in a better state than I am,” you hear him kiss her on the forehead, a contended sigh leaving her lips. “She’ll be fine, my love. You know Y/N. She is fierce, brave, and courageous. This war is nothing to her.”

“I still feel bad she joined the war just so both of you could protect me.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

“She knows I love you,” Sukuna mumbles on top of her head, his hands tracing patterns on her back. Tears flowed out your eyes, your body trembling as you bit your fist, drool flowing down. You couldn’t stop the way you felt your heart torn to pieces. Really, it shouldn’t be anything new to you. You are a curse manifested from heartbreak, after all, but why did it hurt so much this time? “Y/N is a long time friend and ally of mine. She cherishes everything I cherish.”

“But still...aren’t you going to check up on her? I couldn’t even welcome her back. I haven’t seen you both in days and I...”

“Shhh,” Sukuna lulls her worries. “I’ll check up on her right now, although I don’t think she needs it. She’s a strong warrior, after all.”

“Sukuna,” her voice was laced with warning this time, but it later softens, as it always does. “Even the strongest have their weak moments, like how you are with me. Just because someone is capable of enduring the pain, doesn’t mean they won’t appreciate an act of kindness. Y/N has been loyal to you far longer than I have, but you really need to show your gratitude more to her,” she sighs, “Go check on her, my love. See if she’s doing well. If she’s fully recovered by tomorrow, I’ll head out to the market and prepare you both a lovely meal. It’s the least I could do.”

Sukuna chuckles, “My love, we don’t need to eat.”

“No matter. She likes miso soup, doesn’t she?”

By now, you’re frozen in bed. The blood and dirt and your skin have stained your sheets, and your hair is knotted in tangles from endless fighting. Maybe this is the reason why you hated yourself more than you hate her – because deep down, she isn’t really someone you could hate.

It makes sense Sukuna loves her.

Unlike you, she is kind, caring, gentle and full of love. What did you have? Pent up anger, bloodlust, temperamental tendencies and a hobby of withdrawing as a form of isolation because you couldn’t cope with the heartbreak – this is your gift. Your curse.

She is a blessing.

You hear the bed dip feet away, and whispers of, “Be safe, I’ll wait for you,” before a door slides close. Sukuna’s footsteps pad nearer in your hallway, in a place that he had his servants build just for you years ago when you proved your loyalty to him. Back then, you were over the moon when you saw him telling his people he wanted you to have your own room, but now it was like a huge slap on your face that Sukuna cared for you, but he didn’t want you close to him in the way she was.

Your room was on the other side of the temple, at the back, to be specific. While she stays with him in his own chambers, he used his magic to build her a beautiful garden filled with her favourite flowers, while you were somewhat locked away behind it all.

A bitter smile makes it way to your face. Sukuna was coming, not because he wanted to, but because she asked him to.

You want to laugh. Instead, you run out the room in such speed that the sheets fly away from your bed, and the floorboards crack under the force of your movements. When Sukuna raps his knuckles on your door, asks if he could come in (as if he needed permission for that), and you don’t answer, he takes it upon himself to intrude.

He isn’t surprised at your discarded clothes, or how your room remains dark and empty, as if you’d never been there at all. This isn’t the first time you ran away, and this would not be the first time he ran after you either.

He knows you’ll come home.

After all, it was him you kept coming back to – although he didn’t know that.

Breakfast the next day wasn’t any better. She invited you to join them, fretting over the cuts on your cheeks and dabbing at them with a wet towel. She feels like a doting mother who wouldn’t stop worrying about her child who tripped, and again, you realize why he loves her.

The food was good. Like she promised, miso soup is placed in a bowl you painted years ago, and she beams at you expectantly while Sukuna caressed her thighs under the table. Your lips tremble as you take a spoonful of it, letting the warm soup soothe your exhausted body with a sigh. Sukuna peers at you in the same curiosity, head tilted to the side ever so slightly as if waiting how you’ll react.

It’s no secret you don’t open yourself up to anyone other than him. The moment she came to live with you both, he could tell you locked yourself up in your room and even disappeared for weeks under the lie that you were parading in the districts to “look for some fun.”

Sukuna knows you better than you know yourself. He knows it’s a lie, that you’re not someone who “looks for fun” and that you probably just stayed up in the mountains watching the sunrise. He knows you’re uncomfortable with her displays of affection, of how she easily adored you or how she cared for you like you were her sister or even a friend, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

If anything, he only hopes you would treat her the same way.

You don’t finish your bowl. It’s extremely difficult to enjoy the food when Sukuna compliments her on her cooking skills and she turns beet red beside him, nervously giggling that she just wanted to make you feel better. Sukuna bends down to steal a peck from her lips, teasing her that she was his “sweet angel” who had a heart of gold.

They don’t even eat.

They’re just giggling, laughing, kissing, and you understand – you really do. It isn’t every day that Sukuna gets to indulge in the presence of his beloved. But only you are there with him. It’s either he trusts you enough to let his guard down, or you’re unimportant enough that he doesn’t care if you see him completely baby her and spoil her rotten with how he grabs her onto his lap and starts kissing her nose and then her eyelids.

Their cheerful laughter is a great contrast to the sound of your heart shattering into pieces. They don’t notice that you’ve excused yourself, heading out the room and into the back part of the house, passing the servants on the way.

Similar to how they treat Sukuna, they quiver and bow before you, making sure to keep their eyes on the floor in fear you’d slice their heads off. You fight back a sigh. You wouldn’t do that – not when they welcomed you so warmly (or rather, fearfully) and accepted you as their master. You realize that they don’t act this way around Sukuna’s lover. In fact, they light up when she’s around and talk to her freely; everyone was just comfortable in her presence.

You know you’re not her.

You could never be her.

She was a human, and you’re nothing but a lonely, heartbroken curse.

Hours pass by, and no one looks for you. You dare not enter the garden Sukuna made for her even if you also like the flowers, simply because you don’t want Sukuna to be appalled at the thought that someone like you – a Curse who’d killed people and tortured others – would also be enamoured with something as innocent as daisies.

The lake is peaceful that night. It’s painful to bathe back at the temple because the servants won’t leave you alone. They insist on washing your body for you and that you should lay back, but you refuse to be coddled. The lake is on the other side of the mountain, deep in the forest with smaller curses lurking, so no one would find you here.

The moon shines down bright on you, and for the first time since you’d gotten home, you smile.

It looks so beautiful. So big and bright, yet so haunting and peaceful with secrets you could never uncover. You stare at it as you take off your robes layer by layer, feet dipping into the cold water before submerging completely. The ripples on the lake illuminated by the moonlight makes it even more soul-stirring.

You cup the water and wash your hair, finally getting rid of the invisible stains from the war. You felt clean, refreshed – but your heart still rumbled with hatred and darkness. Hatred that you couldn’t be good enough, hatred that you’re destined to be lonely and unloved.

One of the good things about bathing at midnight is that no one gets to see your tears when it mixes in with the water, and you throw your head back in laughter with your arms extended to the sky. This is who you are – a Curse with no future and no past.

Later, you choke as a sob begins, your fist clenching above your heart. It hurt everywhere.

You wanted Sukuna – so much that you felt like you were going to go insane.

If it wasn’t for him, you’d be trapped in an endless nightmare. But he saved you, cared for you, made you his equal. So why couldn’t he love you? You’ve always been there for him. When people turned against him or plotted a rebellion, you were the one who snuck into clan houses and slit their throats, making their descendants and followers witness the consequence of disrespecting Sukuna.

When he was nearly exorcised by an overpowered jujutsu sorcerer, you summoned an army of thousand lost souls to defeat them, nearly ending up with you losing your head in the aftermath. It was always you – you were always there from him since the beginning, so why didn’t he love you?

You cupped your eyes with your palms, unable to stop the tears from coming now. Your whole body shook with sobs, turning number and number at the cold water. Nothing mattered, nothing mattered, nothing did if you couldn’t have Sukuna.

“Sukuna,” you cried out, pushing your hair back as the ripples blurred in your tear-stained view. “Sukuna, help me, please...” Put an end to my suffering, you inwardly begged. Death is a better option than watching him fall deeper and deeper for her, knowing that could never be you. He’d never look at you that way. He’d never touch you that way. He would never be your lover, and your sobs grew more desperate because you know you are his lover.

God, you loved him so much more than you hated yourself.

This sort of madness had you gasping for air. Death – death is a better option. It is a much more peaceful way to go than to suffer each waking day to have what you want be explicitly stated to be reserved for anyone else but you.

You froze when a pair of arms encircled your waist, his grip strong and vice-like. He turned you around, his large hand coming at the small of your neck to bring you down to his shoulder where you could hide your tears. Until now, he knows you better than you know yourself, and he knows it would shatter you even more if he saw you crying.

“Y/N,” Sukuna begins, and your eyes widen when you see he’s still wearing his robe. He must’ve jumped in the water. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What’s wrong?”

Your lips turned blue from the cold. Unable to help the shiver that ran down your spine, your teeth chattered, and Sukuna pulled you closer to the heat of his skin. He sighed worriedly. “You need to tell me what’s wrong, otherwise, I can’t help you.”

“I” You falter. Your heart drums loudly in your chest. He would reject you, break your heart into pieces all over again but – so what if he did? It almost made you laugh. You’re the Curse of Heartbroken Souls. It wouldn’t make a difference if he hurt you now. Instantly, you weaken in his hold, and Sukuna’s hands grip your waist to keep you upright.

“Fuck, Y/N, what’s wrong —”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me,” you repeat, more confidently this time. You pull away from him in the slightest bit, eyes blown wide as you peer up at his appalled ones. His hands squeeze your waist subconsciously, his sharp nails piercing through your skin until it draws blood. It makes you gasp a little, but you’re used to the pain. Right now, you want to be selfish and free yourself from this pain. “I want you to kiss me, Sukuna.”

His eyebrows pinch together. “What the fuck are you saying? I love someone else, you know I won’t —”

“Won’t do what?” You challenge, eyes burning from the intensity and ferocity of each nerve humming to life. “This isn’t who you are, Sukuna. You’re the King of Curses. Or have you already forgotten those days you would accept those female offerings and you’d fuck them until they’re out of their mind, then discard them as if they were nothing but dirty laundry? You were strong back then, majestic, but now you’re fucking weak,” You spat out. You know you’re spurning him on and pushing all his buttons, but somehow saying those words gave you great relief.

Now, it was time to see his patience snap, which shouldn’t take long since his grip had turned bruising on your hips, and he growled under his breath. “Don’t do this, Y/N.”

“You’re the one who shouldn’t do this,” you growl back, “You haven’t been the same ever since that pathetic excuse of a woman came. Don’t you remember that she left her husband and children just because she was a whore for you? Because you pleased her better than her human spouse?” You push him away with enough force that it sends him a few feet back, and Sukuna scowls. “She doesn’t love you! She only stays by your side because she was nothing but a filthy rat before and now you treat her like a queen! She’s nothing but a lowly human who —”

“Enough!”

“ —made you believe you’re someone she could love! Don’t you get it, Sukuna? We’re Curses, she’s a human! She will never understand us! You’re lying to yourself if you believe she doesn’t cry herself to sleep at the thought she’s next to a monster —”

“I said, that’s enough!” In a flash, Sukuna was in front of you, clawed hands wrapped around your neck. It would be so easy for him to break you and kill you right then and there, your feet already above ground and your exposed breasts just within his sight. Nevertheless, you only laugh cruelly at his agitation. “You know nothing,” he squeezed your neck tighter, “about what it’s like to love someone. How dare you say that she does not love me?”

“I know, because if you let me, I could love you a lot more,” you choked out, clawing at his arm, but he is unfazed by your efforts.

Sukuna lets go of you. You drop in the water as you gasp and breathe for air, but Sukuna’s wide eyes bring you back to reality. It’s that face, the one that tells you he’s been unaware this whole time, and the sudden confession drops on him like a cannonball.

Like a switch has been flipped off, you revert back to your normal self. Using your arms to shield your body, you run away from him, about to make it to the bank when his voice stops you. “Do you truly mean it? Do you love me?”

You close your eyes. “Yes. I always have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me,” you pull your hair to the side, squeezing the water out. “You barely believe me now, so why believe me if I said it earlier? It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Then why were you calling for me? I heard you crying. You said you wanted me to help you.”

You whip around, tears furiously flowing down. “I’m going to the jujutsu sorcerers myself tomorrow and let them exorcise me. There’s no point to my existence, Sukuna. I’m tired of all the wars. I’m tired of fighting for someone I don’t even care about. I’m tired of loving you and watching you look at her instead of me, when I’m the one who’s always been there for you. I’m tired of —” you hiccup, embarrassed that he was now watching you break down in front of him. You were a powerful curse, dammit, you shouldn’t even be crying about this. “—I’m tired of not being the one you love.”

Sukuna stands there gaping. You don’t give him another chance to speak as you walk away, seemingly a new habit of yours now. You haven’t always been this way. Patience was never one of your strongest points, but being around Sukuna for the past years taught you a thing or two. That all shatters now that you’ve grown tired, the shame of patheticness crawling between your legs as you retrieve your robes, not bothering to dry up.

He exhales through his nose, claws balled into a fist to restrain his anger. Now he wants to be gentle with you the way he is with her?

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic – you keep chanting to yourself. You’re not there yet, but there have already been rumours that you’re the Queen of Curses, the only one who ever managed to be Sukuna’s equal. Although men feared you, they also lusted after you.

How could they not? You were a sexual prowess, and a fearsome figure in the battlefield. Men are confused whether they want to be with you, or if the mere utter of your name had them fainting. Sukuna, on the other hand? He didn’t care. He didn’t notice you. You’re nothing but a war tool to him, his friend and companion during his dark days when he grew bored and would randomly slaughter homes and enslave people.

He’s not the same anymore. The Sukuna you once knew was gone, and you turned back away from him bitterly, the blue flames licking up your skin as a symbol of anger, hatred, but most of all, humiliation.

That night, you didn’t go back to the temple.

And a small, quiet village who’d been loyal to both you and Sukuna had become the victims of your frustration.

The next day, silence echoes in the hallways of the temple. You couldn’t hear even the soft breathings or whispers of the servants. Your ears perk up once you cross the threshold, dropping your bloody katana and releasing your hair from its red tie. The temple servants must’ve already heard that their relatives died the night before – all thanks to your inability to handle your feelings.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, you’ve done this a thousand times before with Sukuna: killing people, enjoying their screams, basking in their surrender and painting the image of hope fading from their eyes into the back of your school.

You’ve done this a thousand times before with Sukuna, but this is the first time you’ve done it alone. You only ever took their lives because Sukuna asked you. Because he assured it was a way to keep gaining strength and to make a name for yourself; that being a powerful Curse was the best feeling in the world and no amount of woman or alcohol felt greater than power.

Sukuna lied.

To him, his heaven was in her arms.

And you? Utterly lost. Broken. With nowhere else to go. As you enter your room, you’re greeted by the sight of a made up bed and cleaned sheets. Even after slaughtering families, your servants still cleaned your room out of fear, and the previous blood from the other day had been wiped away with bleach.

Then, you see yourself from the floor length mirror. White yukata that might as well have been red from the amount of absorbed into the cloth draped over your curves, and your eyes lost what little light it once held. Blood drips from your fingertips and you swipe your thumb over your lip, a small gasp falling to your lips as you recall a little girl, barely five or six winters old, with the exact same lips trembling as she begs you not to kill her parents.

It’s the splitting image of you when you were younger, when you ran around cities unintentionally wreaking havoc out of confusion over your powers. You have no parents. No past. No memory. You just came into existence because of mankind’s grief, and it only made sense you carried that burden more than anyone else.

But you’re not this. You are not a killer. You didn’t enjoy it. You never enjoyed it. Even when Sukuna convinced you that you did, there was no forgetting the fact that you cried yourself to sleep when you were younger at the thought you grew more powerful because you added to the heartbreak of people.

The word heartbreak lights up a bulb in your head. That’s right...you’re the Curse of Heartbreaks – of pain, of grief, of mourning, of suffering.

If you couldn’t have what you want, then why should he? Isn’t it already written in your fate that your destiny is to carry those pain, inflict it onto others, and make them realize they’re wasting their lives believing a lie that love prevails all? That love prevails even someone as irredeemable as Sukuna?

You won’t allow it.

Without wasting another second, you dash to her room. Sukuna’s out to deal with some clan leaders for whatever ritual he wants to perform or out to get more healing potions. The girl never went anywhere else outside the temple because both jujutsu sorcerers and curses are always ready to prance, and she’s smart to not put herself in harm’s way.

But you are harm’s way.

You run so fast through the hallways that you keep bumping into corners, denting the wooden boards and the floor cracking beneath you. You don’t stop until you reach their room, swiping the doors open, and sliding on the doorframe when you see she’s still asleep.

She and Sukuna must’ve stayed up all night performing...activities. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been this weak. She’s a lively and bubbly girl, she wouldn’t have – you freeze in your spot.

Tentatively, you reach over to where she softly snored, tilting her to face you by grabbing her shoulder. She only groans in her slumber before burying herself under the covers. “Sukuna...” her brows furrow as she twitches, probably dreaming about something, and she kicks the covers off with a whine. That’s when you see it. And then you see everything.

A small – barely there – bump on her tummy is half concealed by her lace gown that reveals her skin free from scars, a sign that she’d never really been in battle. But she’s carrying his child, and even though you’re not the one pregnant, you feel bile rise up in your throat.

Your knees wobble and you fall beside their bed, your palms shaky as you place it over her belly. First, you hear a baby cry, and then, a man’s scream.

Sukuna carries his daughter’s form, the little thing bundled up safely in towels while her father coos at her. She’s so small, vulnerable and exposed to the horrors of the world, but she didn’t need to worry about that. Sukuna would protect her, and so would you.

You stand outside the room, a small smile on your face with your arms crossed on your chest. Well, you’ll be damned. You’re not a fan of children and babies in general, but you do admit the infant’s cries sound like music to your ears. It means she’s alive and healthy, and even though her existence is nearly impossible considering her father is a curse, the girl was born perfectly fine and well.

Suddenly, a dark, ominous presence looms over the room. You stand on guard, hands drawing your blade to prepare for whatever or whoever attacked you. You’re not a fan of the kid and or her mother regardless, but Sukuna is left open and vulnerable for attack in this state. He’s too busy fawning over his kid to sense any incoming assault.

However, something doesn’t feel right with this one. That dark, suffocating feeling doesn’t travel. Instead, it’s stagnant and somewhat docile, as if it has no intention to attack, but its threat still remains. It doesn’t even seem like it came from anywhere or it’s about to arrive. Rather...it’s like it was always there to begin with.

Your eyes widen at the realization.

What would happen if a curse...fathered someone else? Would it be human? Or would it be something worse?

You slam the doors open, and everything happens in slow motion. The baby’s mother reaches out to a nearly sobbing Sukuna, eager to see her child, but just as her small, grubby hands wrap around her mother’s pointer finger, it falls. She stops breathing, her arm falling limp, and Sukuna stops cooing. The baby’s cries cease, staring up at her father and extending her small arms to cup his face.

It seems he realized it too, but it was too late.

“Sukuna, don’t!”

The child giggles, her knuckles brushing against her father’s jaw, and the King of Curses lose his grip on her. You watch as they both fall, a garbled scream leaving your lips. The midwife runs to save the child before she’s crushed under Sukuna’s weight, but she too has fallen victim the moment her skin made contact with the baby’s.

No...it’s not even a child or an infant. It’s not even human.

It’s the Curse of Death.

And at her birth, the world would grow dark, darker than what you and Sukuna have already caused the world to be. Her words would sound like a fork scraping against a plate; torturous, excruciatingly painful, and enough to have you begging for death. The simple brush of skin upon skin takes away the energy, power, and life even of the most powerful beings. After all, what is stronger than Death? It was the only absolute truth in the world – which all things must come to an end.

You retract your hand from her body, sweat dripping on your hairline. That thing growing inside her body...it must not be born. Sukuna would die.

With a silent scream, you whip out the dagger and force it upon her stomach. Or at least, you would’ve, if not for the blade that had peaked out your chest and nearly poking Sukuna’s lover’s back. Blood stained the silver blade, leaking into your lap.

You drop your dagger.

“I trusted you,” Sukuna begins calmly, pulling out the sword from your body in one swift movement. He ignores the way you cough out blood, your head shaking as if to deny his words. His face remains expressionless as he wipes your blood on his thigh, dropping the potions to aid her pregnancy beside her on the bed. Sukuna crouches down to your level and pulls you by the hair until he’s close enough that you could see his two other eyes also glare at you. “Have I not made it clear she is to be untouched? Just because you’re unable to handle your petty jealousy, does not give you a goddamn right to kill what’s mine.”

“What grows in her is a monster,” you sneer, struggling against his grip. You’ve forgotten that his sword is imbued with his special curses that would immediately exorcise any weaker Curse, but because you’re on the same level as him, you die slowly, and a lot more painfully.

“That child is mine. It was created out of love.”

“It is not a child!” You argue, “It will be born as the Curse of Death, one that will kill both you and your little lover!”

“And if you’re lying?”

You grit your teeth. “I would never lie to you, Sukuna.”

His brow shots upwards, a smirk creasing his lips. “Is that so?” he shoves you until you slam against the wall. Sukuna treads to you dangerously, his tongue peeking out to swipe at his lips. You know that darkness in his eyes better than most – it’s the look he always wore when he decides to go for the kill. “Then, since you’re always honest to me, tell me this: do you still love me?”

You don’t even think about it.

“Yes. That’s why I’m telling you to get rid of that thing before you and everyone else dies.”

“A concerned little lamb,” he hums in amusement. “That makes it clear then,” Before you could process what happens next, you take your last breath as Sukuna rips out your heart with his claws. It’s not an actual heart, but rather the core of your Curse manifestation and the gem-like object is crushed under his fists. “Queen of Curses, Curse of Heartbreak,” he drops the pieces of your heart into your lap, Sukuna growing more and more blurry in front of you. “Die the same way you came to life: with a terrible, terrible heartbreak.”

Sometimes, you can’t help but feel like you’d been an awful person in your past life. It’s not that you’d ever done anything illegal or rebellious. Your parents are quite proud of your immaculately clean school record, and your grades are even above average. The school’s faculty absolutely adores you for your preppy personality, always volunteering to help others and taking the lead when no one wants to budge.

You suppose you’re quite a role model, but what no one understands is that maybe you’re always going out of your way to be kind with someone because deep down, you have a nagging feeling you’ve once been a terrible person.

Sighing, you wrap your arms around your legs as you hug it to yourself, whacking your forehead in your knees to get rid of those impending thoughts. There’s really no reason behind it, more like an intuition that you’ve forgotten about something important.

You’re pulled out of your trance when warm, soft hands push your hair back, and a pair of even softer lips land at your shoulders. Immediately, you smile, turning your head to peer at the dark-haired beauty that shyly peeks up at you under his long lashes. He keeps peppering kisses all the way up to your neck until you laugh from being ticklish, and it doesn’t take long before Megumi has you smiling again.

He knows you better than you know yourself.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles on your shoulder, his warm hand drawing comforting circles on your lower back. Again, the simple gesture ignites something within you, something about oddly familiar even if you don’t feel like you’ve experienced it firsthand. “You’ve been deep in thought lately.”

“Lately?”

“Hmm,” he moves up your face, pressing a long, solid kiss at your forehead. It makes you relax and sigh happily, unable to help your urge to crawl into his lap and bury yourself in his arms. “Ever since Itadori enrolled here, you’ve always looked at him...quite weirdly. Is he bothering you? You know if he does something weird, I won’t hesitate to feed him to the Divine Dogs.”

That elicits a laugh from you. Now that you think about it, you’ve been awfully quite ever since Gojo sensei came back with that overly excited kid. You don’t know why, you don’t even realize his presence affects you, but you don’t want Megumi to worry about it when you can’t understand it yourself. So you hug him closer until the scent of fresh laundry wafts your senses, and you brush his scalp tenderly.

Megumi purrs.

“It’s nothing you should worry about, I’m sure I’m just tired from exams.” Unlike Megumi, you’re not a jujutsu sorcerer. You came from a totally human family that lived a totally mundane humane life, unaware that curses exist and people actually die from it. If it wasn’t for Megumi saving you that one time in school when you unknowingly stayed behind the same night the Occult Club did and ran into some freaky monsters, you would continue living without any idea of it.

It wasn’t always easy accepting Megumi’s true identity, but you loved him more than anyone else, and so hiding in his dorms while lying to your parents you were going to sleep over a friend’s house has become somewhat a daily occurrence. You’ve even made friends with the lovely Nobara and Maki senpai who welcomes you with open arms – although maybe it’s because you never fail to bring them food from the city and some fashionable items for Nobara.

Megumi senses your hesitance to talk about it, so he drops it and enjoys the feeling of your skin on him instead, your breaths falling in the same rhythm. Tonight, he and his classmates would go out on a mission again because the idiotic Gojo-sensei was away overseas, and as always, you’d stay up late in Megumi’s room, waiting for him to come back right after he promises you you’ll come back safely.

You close your eyes and wrap yourself around him like a koala, and Megumi laughs at how small you are. He doesn’t brush you off, though. He knows you fear for his life despite the fact you trust him with his abilities, but you can’t help it. It’s only natural to worry about your loved one, after all.

For now, he’ll have to keep cuddling and kissing you for as long as he could before he leaves.

How does one soothe their lover who’s come from battles?

You scramble away from Megumi’s bed the moment you’re waken up by the sound of steady knocks. The first aid kit lays on his study desk, which you swipe with sleepy eyes as his baggy clothes crinkle in your smaller figure. It’s rare that Megumi lets you see his state during after battles, but today, tonight, he allowed you to stay even after his mission.

Your steps are nothing but hurried when you slide the door open, his name about to fall from your lips until you’re greeted by a young man with strawberry blonde hair and black marks on his face. It’s Itadori Yuuji, but at the same time, it’s not him...

His cheerfulness and airheaded self is gone, replaced with a much sinister entity residing within it. The man before you sighs, frowning in distaste at your clothes – your boyfriend’s clothes – before he invites himself in and shuts the door behind him.

Sukuna hums, pulling you closer to him until there is no space between your skin and his, his face nuzzling in your neck. “I’m home,” his lips brush the bare skin of your neck, his breath warm and ticklish. “I made it home to you, my Queen. Safely like you asked.”

“Wha-?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers so quietly you wonder if you heard it at all. “For not believing you, for not seeing you. It took me thousands of years to realize where I fucked it all up, but I know the truth now. And you were right – you were always right. I hope in this life I no longer break your heart in the same way you soothe mine.”

- - - - -

A/N: Sounds like a pretty confusing ending, which it is, and I was gonna leave it at that but because I don’t want anyone to go “HUH?” after reading this, I’m just gonna explain :D Sukuna eventually realized how toxic he was to the reader in her past life, how he convinced her to be a bad person with him then emotionally abandoning her the moment he found his happiness. She was the Curse of Heartbreak, and her powers remained even after she was “exorcised.”

She broke his heart by showing him how he lost everything after her exorcism and his lover’s death (because he also saw the future that the child was the Curse of Death) and all those years of suffering eventually made him realize that the power of heartbreak was the one that destroyed him. So in the present, when the reader was reincarnated as a human girl, he finally found her and tries to make up for his mistakes because she was actually his first love, he just didn’t realize it because both of them were somewhat barbaric and psychotic. Lmk what you think, I hope you liked it!

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creatingnikki · 3 years

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What 2020 has taught me

1. Those things that seem like content for sci fi or pure fiction are actually things that can happen. To the entire world. Like a pandemic. And to you. Like a seizure.

2. Everyone is sad. Everyone is struggling. In different ways and in different measures. Makes no one special. But you still get to feel sad for yourself and be compassionate towards others. But it's also okay to draw boundaries because you're everyone too. Remember, not special? You're sad and trying to deal with it too.

3. Every job you have will not add value to your life. It will not teach you new things or give you people you'll want to stay in touch with. Sometimes some jobs will only be a season of your life. Even if the season lasts for over a year. It's okay.

4. You know how you thought picking a college and picking a major and picking your first job and picking a specific industry were all the career decisions you had to make? Yeah, no. It's never a one time thing. You could have a job as a marketing strategist for two years and then want nothing to do with it. And then you'll have to make another decision and work towards it. So I'd like to call it moves. It's like chess. You always have to make a move. And it always has to be strategic, yes. But the truth is in your 20s it probably won't. Even if you try. And as long as you're trying, you'll be fine.

5. You may have different sorts of friends like the one you only talk to about kdrama with or the one you met when you went book shopping alone and the friendship is all about books really. That's normal. But irrespective of why and how you became friends with them, if you consider them a friend then there has to be this basic sense of care, respect and empathy for each other. I don't care what people want to say. If you're faced with the worst trauma of your life, the least your friends can do is check up on you regularly. On text. And if they don't even do that then guess what? They aren't friends. They are acquaintances. Social media and quick promises make everyone seem like your friend. But they are not. They are just nice people who will be nice to you for specific periods and then wander away like you are a speck of dust floating in their journey.

6. You speak a lot and write and you express yourself and you’re emotionally mature but oh my god. You still hold in so much. You’ve known that at a subconscious level and over the last year people - experts - have told you that. You have also realized that you make your pain and sadness about pettier things because dealing with them, admitting about them, sharing that with your friends, is easier. You do that so that you don’t have to deal with the real stuff. Because it’s so damn painful. And you don’t know how to do it. Yet. Acknowledging is the first step anyway right? I know you’re confused about how exactly to let go of all this pain and sadness and feel lighter, and you know that talking to people really isn’t the solution, but I also know you’re smart enough to figure it out.

7. Talking about being smart...you know you’re different than others. Better. Special. Smarter. None of these are the right words. And you never voiced this out until this year because you knew it would make you come across as narcissistic. Some would say it’s because you’re an INFJ. But my mother once said that this may be the first time we are consciously living life but our souls are old and so our instinct and the things we know but can’t explain are because this isn’t the first time for our souls. The connections we feel with certain people, the reason we are so different from our siblings who grew up in the exact same environment with the exact same opportunities, our sense of right and wrong...it’s all because our souls learn and grow with each time and that’s why we are who we are. I think that’s probably how I can explain what I have always felt. That I am living in a different universe than everybody but I have to pretend to be in this one and dumb my emotions and thoughts down. Maybe that’s because my soul has lived through thousands of years while most around me are living their 100th life. Or maybe I’m just narcissistic, who knows?

8. You shift between talking in first person and second person but that’s because that’s how you think in your head and talk to yourself and live your life. You ask yourself things and you accuse yourself of things and you apologize to yourself and you comfort yourself. I think that seeps into your writing and the changing of the voices.

9. You always genuinely thought that you’d not be afraid of dying. And then what happened this October proved you shockingly wrong. I know it’s not so much being afraid of dying but the unbearable pain of knowing what that would mean to your family. So you have to be more prudent and less reckless with your life and the choices you make.

10. Regret is not something that plagued you but this year the realisation and pain of giving away your favourite books from your own personal collection to people you care about as a show of affection and them turning out to be ass holes or losers has hit you so hard. So, yes. No more of that shit. I really fucking want my copy of The Perks Of Being A Wallflower back. UGH. With the childhood picture of me inside it!

11. Sleeping at 5 am in the morning stops being fun or romanticised when you realise just how much harm it does to your body and mind. Literally every single disease and disorder can be traced back to a shitty fucking sleep schedule. It’s not just the hours you sleep but also the quality of sleep and the time you sleep at. So yes sleeping for 8 hours is healthy but not if that 8 hours is from 5 am to 12 pm. ‘Not a morning person’ is just another construct of capitalism and you don’t realise how many industries profit from having you believe that and staying up late or all night. Entertainment. Food. Alcohol. Pharma. Biologically and naturally you are a bloody morning person. And you don’t need 3 cups of coffee to begin your day or your phone notifications to get you to open your eyes and brain to wake up.

12. Sometimes you really have to stop taking people so seriously. I know the idea of treating people as casual friends or entertainment makes you want to fight that concept but you know what? Some people like Pineapple are ever only going to be good for that. No matter how much they ‘grow and change’. So keep them in the background for whenever you want some entertainment or drama. But please don’t clear up your busy schedule to meet them or send them gifts on their birthday.

13. If you don’t have the fruit juice or green juice within half an hour of making it then you are losing out on its most optimum health benefits. Or when you remove the white stringy stuff from oranges. That’s where all the actual nutrients are.

14. I am privileged and so are most of the people I interact with. The global pandemic has been hell for a lot of people around the world. Health wise. Financially. Losing people they care about. But I was blessed enough to be safe at home and have a job that I could smoothly do from home and not have a pay cut or 4-hour long Zoom meetings. So honestly when my friends tell me 2020 has been bad I have to stop and ask them why? Yes, the crippling uncertainty and anxiety is not something that can be undermined. But most people I know had very great positive life-changing milestones this year like moving away to another country for college or taking their first solo trip or getting married. So I have to ask them. Because I am not going to agree that everybody’s 2020 and pandemic narrative is the same.

15. Money gets spent really quickly. When I left my job earlier this year because of personal issues, I thought I had enough savings to last me a year. Full disclosure - I mean to last my personal expenses because I live with my parents. But it didn’t even last me 3 months. And so to use money wisely and buy things that provide utility than instant gratification is something to follow. Also buying one pair of really expensive but quality shoes is better than buying 5 pairs of affordable but low quality shoes that will have a very short life and force you to buy more. I know that higher price doesn’t always mean better quality but sometimes it does. And as an adult now I want to do the whole quality > quantity thing even with things and not just people.

16. Everyone in their 20s went through a crisis of what they should do with their lives and their careers and it’s not unique to the 21st century and the challenges of today. Whether it was Vincent Van Gogh in the 19th century or Sylvia Plath in the 20th, every single person, as brilliant as them went through the torture of making these decisions and living with their consequences. You may think I picked wrong examples for they both killed themselves but you know what? They were the people who really want to live more than anyone. They knew what life meant. And maybe if mental health help was more accessible back then their lives would be longer and more peaceful.

17. Telling people everything is overrated. You don’t have to talk about every single thing that’s on your mind or that’s going on in your life. The good and the bad and the mediocre. You have to be mindful about how much of yourself you’re giving away.

18. Re-watch Suits when people at work feel intimidating because the confidence + negotiation tactics that they show can actually work irl cos at the end of the day no matter in what position you’re dealing with people who have emotions and fears and insecurities and desires. You understand how to leverage that nobody can get the better of you.

19. You belong to yourself. No matter how much you love someone or how much they have done for you or how much you owe them - you belong to yourself. You can’t live your life for someone else. Everyone belongs to themselves first. No relationship, no promise, no circumstance should make you feel like you have to give up your life and make it all about them. If and when the time comes to die for them, go ahead. Take a bullet. Donate that kidney. Write them in your will. But live your life for yourself. And let them live theirs.

20. Twenty three was a challenging year. When it started you claimed the age 23 sounds boring and insignificant. Guess it proved you wrong. It hurt so much now. But that only means you’ll look back on it later and see how it added so much wisdom and resilience to your being. It doesn’t mean that it makes all the bad things that happened to you okay. Or that you should be grateful to them. Fuck no. It means that you should be kinder to yourself because at the end of the day, your mind and body find it in themselves to deal with whatever is thrown their way. They have your back. It’s time you learn to sit straight.

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princessofcurses · 3 years

Text

[1] Take it.

Part 2 Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader Written from the perspective of Sukuna My first post! I wonder if anyone will read it? It's kind of long. The sexy stuff starts happening about halfway through. This is just one chapter so some things might not make sense. Let me know if you liked it and want more! Preface: A woman sorcerer challenged Sukuna. Her technique was able to nullify his, ending in a draw between the two. Frustrated at his inability to kill her, he decides to “take her” in “another way”. The cocky brat rejects him easily but he’s determined to win her over little by little when she visits him the next day.

She left quickly after our battle. I wanted to chase after her. She hadn’t even told me her name but the way she mocked me riled my soul up. A fire began to burn in my core and soon, I felt it in all of my blood. I was almost unsure if I wanted to kill her or fuck her. I hadn’t met a Jujutsu sorcerer as strong as her before, strong enough to go toe-to-toe with me. And strong enough to resist me. I couldn’t kill her so right now, I wanted nothing more than to fuck her. I can win in other ways. I wanted to earn her affection and make her mine. With her by my side, nothing would be able to stop me.

The next day, she came back to me. I was delighted.

“You thought about it, didn’t you? Did you rethink your stance?”

She replied to me with disgust.

“I’m here to waste your time and keep you from killing.”

I scoffed.

How can I win her over? After my ‘sex with hundreds of women’ comment last time, she obviously wants nothing to do with me. I can’t force her into submission because she neutralizes my techniques and she can use it against me. Should I buy her affection? Maybe gifts would do.

She noticed I was in thought and she used the pause to take a seat at the base of the mountain of skulls. She pulled out a book and began to read. She was bored with me again. She is so fucking infuriating. I wanted so badly to kill her but I couldn’t. So I thought I wanted so badly to ruin her and make her feel so good she submits to me. But she pretended I didn’t exist.

I jumped down from my throne to be closer to her.

“What’s your name?”

Without looking up from her book, she said just her first name.

“Akahime.”

“Oh? So you’re one of the heavenly twins. The red princess.”

“Mhm.”

Her one word replies irritated me. Women have died just getting too close to me and now there was one who not only rejected me but could stop me too. My usual approach wasn’t working so I tried being more direct.

“I want to talk to you.”

She immediately responded.

“I told you I’m not interested.”

“Please.”

She closed her book with both hands and put it down. I felt pitiful almost begging her just to speak with her.

“You’re annoying.”

I winced at her comment.

“What if we talked over dinner?”

“We wouldn’t be able to go anywhere without you being noticed. Plus, you might just try to kill everyone.”

“Then I’ll have one of my servants bring us something. You didn’t bring food, right? You’ll get hungry eventually.”

She put her index finger on her chin and looked up. She had a cute thinking face. If I could hear her thoughts, she probably cursed in her head that she forgot to bring something to eat.

“Okay, fine. I want an omakase from the most expensive sushi restaurant in Japan. I also want a bottle of sake. It better be warm too.”

This little brat. She’s a foot shorter than me but she treats me as if I’m the small one. I sighed in exasperation and I snapped my fingers for a servant to quickly appear. Akahime wondered where they came from.

“You heard her. Fetch. Quickly.”

They scurried out of the lair. I went to take a seat beside her. She looked uncomfortable and moved farther from me once I sat down. I sighed.

“I won’t bite. I just want to talk.”

She turned to me and smiled.

“Let’s talk over dinner!”

Ugh. She’s really cute, even when she’s nicely rejecting me. I was losing my composure. I was so frustrated that she wasn’t giving a single thing. I wanted to get on top of her and show her just why women come to me. But she might just leave altogether.

“Okay, looking forward to it then.”

I made my way back to my throne. I leaned my elbow against the armrest and held my head up with my hand. I wondered, what could I say to make her trust me? It felt like an eternity had passed once the food arrived. The servant laid all of the sushi out. Akahime and I sat on the floor. I poured her some sake and she took the small cup with a smile.

“Thank you, Sukuna!”

She could look so sweet. I was taken aback from it, considering how cocky she had been the entire time. She must really love this restaurant.

“Itadakimasu!”

We clapped our hands and she immediately went for a piece of salmon.

“I love this place! Oh, you ordered the omakase too? Wow, so you have money?”

Her personality completely changed.

“I’ve eaten at this place a couple of times. I like their omakase too. And yes, I have money.”

Maybe gifts were the way to go. I quickly wrote down some items for my servant to get.

She picked up a piece of toro and presented it to me with her other hand.

“This is my favorite.”

She plopped it into her mouth and she closed her eyes and smiled.

“Mmm!”

The way to her heart is through her stomach, I guess. We continued our dinner and I kept refilling her cup. She drank happily, finishing it quickly each time. Blush started to form across her cheeks and nose. We had just finished eating too.

She sighed.

“Ah. I feel like I ate too much.”

Her words slurred a bit and she put her head down on the table.

“I’m going to fall asleep right here.”

I helped her keep her head up.

“No, don’t do that. I got you something.”

My servant entered and set down a futon for her.

“I got you a futon to sleep on. It’s stuffed with goose feathers.”

She looked at me and then the futon with amazement.

“Wow! I have to lay on it right now!”

She finished the rest of the sake in the bottle and crawled over to the futon. I had the perfect view of her ass and I could see the outline of her panties. A chill went through me.

She laid out on the futon and cuddled the pillow, which was stuffed with goose feathers as well.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s really comfortable.”

Her smile was so charming and the way she looked up at me with sparkles in her eyes made me want to have her right at this moment.

“I got you something else.”

My servant handed her a white and flowy off-the-shoulder nightgown. She sat up and took it from the servant, who left quickly.

“I’m going to wear it now. Close your eyes.”

I covered my eyes but couldn’t help but peep through the cracks. She had stripped down to her panties and I could see her perky breasts and perfect ass. She clumsily slipped on the dress.

“Okay. I’m done changing.”

I uncovered my eyes and saw her unobstructed in the dress. She looked so dainty and was being so sweet. Was this the same girl I fought with? The same girl that I lost to? I examined her, thinking that she looked so innocent. I hungered for her. The off-the-shoulder part made her look even more enticing. I have good taste.

“It looks good on you.”

“Did you pick this out? I like it.”

“I did.”

We made eye contact for a few seconds and then she abruptly turned her back to me. She sat back down on the futon, swaying a bit from side to side. I thought for a second. Could this be my chance to close in? I didn’t want to respond. I might anger her and she’d tell me to leave her alone. I took a seat close to her instead.

“Did you enjoy the dinner?”

She was all smiles, not a hint of maliciousness or cockiness she had shown me before. My heart ached a little because of it.

“It was delicious and the sake is great! I feel good right now. Thank you, Sukuna.”

She said my name again and a chill ran down my spine. I wanted to make some contact with her. Just my index finger to her face or putting my hand over hers. I fucking hated this. I was doing so much to make her comfortable just so she wouldn’t push me away. Never in my life have I ever had to work for a woman’s affection. It pissed me off to no end. Why couldn’t I just have her already? The dress on her was making me lose my shit. The soft outline of her breasts in it. I didn’t want to take my eyes off of her. I just wanted to devour her.

She gave me a look of disapproval and then put her hands in my face to obstruct my view.

“Stop staring at me like that! I’m not a meal.”

Her hands were so small. I wanted to hold them in mine but instead, I grabbed her wrist. She had a surprised look which slowly sank to annoyance.

“Did you want something?”

Since she didn’t try to break free from my grasp, I kept holding her wrist up. I thought of the right words to say. What could I even say?

“I want you.”

She gently took back her wrist.

“I can’t help you.”

I brushed the hair in her face behind her ear.

“Why?”

A look of innocence took over her facial expression and the blush from the alcohol reddened even more from the blush of her reservations.

“I'm no stranger to foreplay but I want my first time to be with someone who’s also never fucked before.”

The way the crude word escaped her lips while she looked like an angel turned something on in me. I started to get erect and I wanted to let myself lose control. I don’t care what she does to me. I just want to touch her once.

“I have a lot of experience. I’ll figure out how to please you quickly.”

Her look had a hint of sadness.

“I won’t compromise on this.”

God damn it. Why did I have to be such a whore? I can’t even remember anyone I’ve had sex with.

“Can I just touch you then?”

I braced myself for rejection. Her head tilted to the side. I wonder if she was actually thinking about it.

“Sure.”

I was shocked. I wanted to jump her right then and there but I had to control myself. I was being given a little and I was more than happy to take what I could get. She let me choose what position I would touch her in. I had her lay back on my arm and I cradled her like a baby. My hand just touching her soft skin and shoulders made me want to shudder but I needed to keep my cool in front of her. I raised my hand slowly to caress her face. We made eye contact and her glossy stare at me made me want to see what other faces she could make.

Holding her face in my hand, I tilted it and leaned in to kiss her. She didn’t protest. It looked like she was going to keep her eyes open during it, so I kept mine open as well. Our lips met and it felt like the air was knocked out of me. Her lips were so soft and I tasted a bit of her. She’s so sweet. I looked up to ask her.

“How was that?”

“That was nice.”

I kissed her again, taking the pace slow. I put my hand on her back and gradually moved it down. I stopped at her ass to grab it lightly and I think I felt my cock twitch just now. As we shared another kiss, this time I lightly put my tongue in her mouth and brushed against hers. She stayed still at first but then she kissed me back, just the way her tongue moved said to me that she knows what she’s doing. My thoughts corrupted as I thought about my cock in her mouth. I imagined her tongue twirling around my head. I began to drool. Some of it spilled down her chin.

She pushed me up. I gasped a bit being separated from her lips.

“Ugh. You’re getting your drool everywhere.”

“Sorry.”

I wiped it off of my chin and hers. I then leaned back down to press my lips against hers again. I couldn’t get enough of her. She tasted so sweet. I grabbed and squeezed one of her breasts and then I pinched her nipple and rubbed it between my index finger and thumb. She gasped. She was so responsive to my touch. I moved my hand under her dress to play with her exposed nipple and she let out a soft moan. I stopped kissing her to see the look on her face. Her eyes stared back at me with a lusty gaze. I needed more of her right now.

I sat her in front of me with her legs draping over mine. My hand found its way between her thighs. It was so warm and when I rubbed her pussy through her underwear, I felt the wet fabric. I shivered. I kept thinking that I needed to be inside her right now. I swiftly slipped her panties off and lightly teased her opening, coating my fingers in her arousal. She was so wet and it was driving me fucking crazy. I moved up to her clit and began to rub it slowly. Her eyes widened and she let out a sultry moan. Fuck. That’s sexy.

I quickened the pace, making sure to rub every little spot on her clit. Her moans were more frequent and her breathing was heavier. It became hard for her to focus. I pressed the issue by leaning into her and kissing the nape of her neck. She was so warm and aroused. I loved seeing how submissive she became once I started pleasing her. She had little to no protests.

I moved my middle finger down to slowly slide inside of her. She yelped softly and it took everything I had not to take her right now. I wanted to bury my cock deep inside of her but you know she would never let you. I was a bit eager so I put my ring finger into her as well. Her walls were warm and soft and she was already so tight on my fingers. I was about to beg her for her pussy right now. Instead, I started fingering her at a leisurely pace. She clenched around my fingers and I felt her moan down my spine. I whispered in her ear.

“How does that feel?”

I faced her. She looked like she was in a daze. She was struggling to speak. I smirked. I had her exactly where I wanted her.

“What happened, brat? Nothing to say now?”

She tilted her head to look at me with scrutiny and I knew it wasn’t time for that yet.

“I didn’t mean that.”

We continued on and I used my other hand to rub her clit. Her moans were so loud and they provoked me. I pressed in different areas of her pussy looking for the perfect spot. Each time I had touched a new place, she moaned even louder. She was so sensitive and it excited me to no end.

We were face-to-face.

“Look at me.”

She tried to focus but she was too lost in the pleasure I was giving her.

I took my fingers out of her to snap them. We then made eye contact.

“Look. At. Me.”

She nodded and I put my fingers back in her. I was just about there. I pressed on that spot, what do they call it nowadays? I don’t know. Well, it’s the spot that evokes orgasms. I pinned the spot and her eyes widened.

“Sukuna…”

“What is it, princess?”

She gasped and she whined out.

“You’re so good.”

My heart stopped for a moment from her sweet comment. Fuck. What is she fucking doing to me?

I fingered the spot harder and rubbed her clit faster. The way her pussy sucked on my fingers alerted me that she was close. I had to see the look on her face once she cums. Then I would have won one of our little battles. I varied my movement to keep her engaged. I would switch from rubbing her clit up and down to rubbing it in circles. Then I would alternate from softly fingering that sensitive spot to playing with it roughly. The air was drowned in her moans and it was so satisfying to finally get her in my hands. This was the grand finale for her.

We made intense eye contact with each other. She was in ecstasy but she also looked a bit scared. She knew what was about to happen too. I wanted to establish a little bit of dominance right here.

“Say you’re sorry.”

“Huh?”

She didn’t hear me, she was too lost in the feeling.

“Say you’re sorry for being a brat.”

Her head perked up and she was a little confused. She looked a bit nervous and she seemed choked up. I touched her slowly and I gently smiled at her. She was struggling to speak.

“Or do you want me to stop?”

With a worried look on her face, she shook her head.

“Then say it.”

I gave her a cold and stern stare, and tears began to form in her eyes. I picked up the pace in my rhythm again, rubbing her clit agonizingly and fingering her pussy. I wanted to let her know this was just a preview of what I could do to her. I held her right there. I’d push her over the edge as soon as she says it.

“I’m… I’m…”

She stuttered but she was about to spit it out right now. Half a second before her orgasm hits, she bursts into tears and cried out loudly.

“I’M SORRY!”

She wails as her orgasm consumes her. I pulled her close to me and embraced her while she came. It started in her pussy and traveled in waves to the tips of her fingers and toes. She was shaking. She tried to catch her breath and I felt so fucking satisfied. I held her while she cried and whimpered. It must have been overwhelming for her.

I took a hold of her chin and tilted her head to give her a kiss on the lips.

“How was that? Has anyone ever touched you like that?”

She looked down, shy and embarrassed.

“Not like that...”

I gave her another kiss. Her eyes were still teary and I wiped the moisture from her cheeks. I wanted to take it further so badly but she looked exhausted.

“Are you going to bed now?”

I hoped she wouldn’t but she laid out on the futon.

“I think so.”

She yawned and squeezed one of the pillows tightly in her arms. I pet her head once then got up.

“Good night then.”

I walked away wondering if I should contact one of my concubines. I was dying for Aka’s touch but I wouldn’t get it and I desperately needed release. If she found out though, I might ruin the little bit she was giving me. Do I really have to jerk off tonight? Me? The King of Curses?

“Sukuna.”

She sat upright and her head was perked up, watching me leave. I turned to her in surprise.

“Yes?”

She wanted to say something but she was struggling. She looked a bit frustrated but then she shook her head.

“Good night.”

Drive a fucking stake through my heart why don’t you? I walked to my bedroom and laid out on my futon. My erection was poking through my kimono, trying to free itself. I rubbed my erection through my underwear and kimono and I thought of how soft her lips were. I let the garment drop to the floor and slipped my underwear off. I grabbed my cock and groaned, stroking it up and down. I closed my eyes and imagined her crawling over to me in her dainty dress. How she would look up at me with her hungry eyes. The face she would make as she slowly sits on my cock for the first time.

I stroked myself faster, focusing on the head for a bit and then going down the entire shaft. My breathing was heavier and I got closer and closer. I started to think that maybe I should have asked her for a hand or blow job. I knew releasing myself would leave me nowhere near being satisfied. I felt pathetic. I felt like I was stooping so low for some brat but just picturing her smiling at me steeled my resolve. In my thoughts, she asks me to cum inside of her. I think of coating her insides with it, her virgin pussy being filled up for the first time. I groan loudly and blow my load all over my thighs. I then picture her thanking me for fucking her and I breathe deeply, trying to catch my breath. My cock was still upright and unrelenting, aching for more. I knew this wouldn’t be enough. I sighed and went to clean myself up.

MIGRATING TO A NEW BLOG @baji-san

#sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk smut #sukuna #jujutsu kaisen smut #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #sukuna imagine #fem!reader #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #mine #jujutsu kaisen

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queerdraws · 3 years

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Cleaning Out the Rooms - a Harry Du Bois playlist Alcoholism, getting better?, memory loss, being a superstar, The Final Dream, forming political opinions, bad breakups, past transgressions, being a strange and inconsistent being, and persisting despite it all 26 songs (r-slur warning for Turnin’ on the Screw - QotSA)

including: David Bazan, They Might be Giants, The Mountain Goats, British Sea Power (of course), Queens of the Stone Age, and more. Full track listing and lyric excerpts under the cut

---- Turnin' on the Screw - Queens of the Stone Age (This is the opening track on Era Vulgaris, seemed like an appropriate opening song / introduction to Harry's general essence) ----

... They say those who can't just instruct others And act like victims or jilted lovers You can't lose it if you never had it Disappear, man, do some magic

Want a reason? How's about because You ain't a has been if you never was

I sound like this

Scared to say what is your passion So slag it all, bitter's in fashion Fear of failure's all you've started The jury is in, verdict: r******d

I'm so tired, and I'm wired too I'm a mess; I guess I'm turning on the screw

---- Bless this Mess - David Bazan (Harry being a drunk and a general mess, things going in cycles) ----

God bless the man who stumbles God bless the man who falls God bless the man who yields to temptation God bless the woman who suffers God bless the woman who weeps God bless the children trying her patience Trouble getting over it Is what you're in for So pour yourself another 'Cause it'll take a steady pair of hands Holy or unholy ghost Well now I can't tell, but either way you cut it You should get some distance if you plan to take a stand God bless the house divided God bless the weeds in the wheat God bless the lamp hid under a bushel I discovered hell to be the poison in the well So I tried to warn the others of the curse But then my body turned on me I dreamt that for eternity My family would burn Then I awoke with a wicked thirst

---- Don’t Sit Down Cause I’ve Moved Your Chair - Arctic Monkeys (general Harry vibe. off-kilter) ----

Break a mirror, roll the dice

...

Find a well-known hard man and start a fight Wear your shell suit on bonfire night Fill in a circular hole with a peg that's square

But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair

...

Bite the lightning and tell me how it tastes Kung fu fighting on your roller skates Do the Macarena in the devil's lair

But just don't sit down 'cause I've moved your chair

---- I've Been Seeing Things - They Might be Giants (feels very Harry's detecting style, surreal happenstance) ----

I've been seeing things I've been seeing things Don't have answers but I've got lots of questions

Carpool's up, someone gets out Hand someone else a violin case I'm trying not to let them see me looking at them But I'm pretty sure there was a dollar sign

Keep your eyes peeled and you'll see stuff Which at first seems like unimportant irrelevant things

Can't just ask some perfect stranger "What are you hiding in your violin case?" Shadow them at a distance instead Try to get inside their head

Where'd they go now (Where'd they go now) I got distracted (I got distracted) Begging me to stay (Begging me to stay) Wearing a disguise (Wearing a disguise) That lady (That lady) Must have ditched the kid (Must have ditched the kid) Hidge the down (Hidge the down) [???] What's she up to now? (What's she up to now?) Trembling cold by the airport road Watching them stack containers in rows Seagulls, helicopter, windblown trash Something doesn't add up

I've been seeing things I've been seeing things No one asks but I'm packing all kinds of attention

Later I'm watching a news report Camera pans across a crime scene Unremarked upon detail Empty violin case Okay maybe not the same case Different material, different color Still you have to wonder Am I the only one who knows

I've been seeing things

---- Music is the Victim - Scissor Sisters (breakup Harry. drug-addled disco Harry) ----

I left my heart in San Fransisco It's at some motherfucking disco The people there where dancin' on it And that's including Ms. Matronic

Hell if music is the victim then so am I Of lovin' and a cheatin' the snake gon' bite I beg and I scream and I cuss and I cry If music is the victim then so am I

Of your bad fun Money's all gone but you need some Lover's on the phone but they got none Daddy ain't home from the dog run And you're riding through the city with a shotgun

I left my bag in Pasadena Where all them girls was doin' Tina Them bitches sure were crunked up on it I said I'd rather smoke some chronic

Hell if music is the victim then so am I Of lovin' and a cheatin' the snake gon' bite I beg and I scream and I cuss and I cry If music is the victim then so am I

---- Down to Your Soul - Right Away, Great Captain! (about the Final Dream and pre-game Harry) ----

And I see things I actually don't see. I knew it wasn't actually you a few feet from my reach. I looked into your eyes and I began to lose my teeth, And I felt you were dreaming the same thing.

And I know you don't know what I'm capable of But if you give me just one more minute I'm sure That you would be shaking right down to your soul And I'd hope that the fear of the lord brings me home. I'm a man in a body of water so tall Could swallow you whole and forget where he's going But I carved a map in the back of my arm Don't worry I'm coming home I said don't worry cause I'm coming home

---- No Surprises - Radiohead (suicidal harry, pre-game. Maybe immediately before the game. A little Big Communism Builder) ----

A heart that's full up like a landfill A job that slowly kills you Bruises that won't heal You look so tired, unhappy Bring down the government They don't, they don't speak for us I'll take a quiet life A handshake of carbon monoxide

And no alarms and no surprises

…

This is my final fit My final bellyache

…

No alarms and no surprises, please (get me out of here)

---- Cleaning Out the Rooms - British Sea Power (The instrumental part seems to have been used / referenced for a background music track. And also the name of that one thought project. as expected, it fits beautifully. Wake up in a new life, down by the seaside. Cleaning out the rooms. She’ll be coming soon.) ----

Where life is good in a way Swept away upon our hearts, in cold coal ceremonial On a rainy day, hang it up Get the vacuum and suck it in Cleaning out the rooms, I'll clean it up Dark cloud, drifting out of view I'll never know, she'll be coming soon, that is all I'll wake up in a new life, ship shape and shoe shine Cleaning out the rooms, I'll clean it up She'll be coming soon Drifting into view, way in the west, white cloud If everybody knew, I never knew, she'll be coming soon I'll wake up in a new life, down by the seaside In a new life, down by the seaside Cleaning out the room, I'll clean it up Dark clouds, she'll be coming soon Down the chimney, out the window, that is all

---- In the Morning of the Magicians - The Flaming Lips (waking up with no memory, but bad vibes) ----

In the morning I awake

And I couldn't remember What is love and what is hate

The calculations error

Oh, what is love and what is hate? And why does it matter? Is to love just a waste? And how can it matter?

Oh...

As the dawn began to break I had to surrender The universe will have its way Too powerful to master

---- Once in a Lifetime - Talking Heads (Huh?? What's happening?? same as it ever was, same as it ever was) ----

And you may ask yourself, "How do I work this?" And you may ask yourself, "Where is that large automobile?" And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful house" And you may tell yourself, "This is not my beautiful wife"

...

Same as it ever was, same as it ever was Same as it ever was, same as it ever was

...

And you may ask yourself, "What is that beautiful house?" And you may ask yourself, "Where does that highway go to?" And you may ask yourself, "Am I right? Am I wrong?" And you may say to yourself, "My God! What have I done?"

---- Don't Change - David Bazan (alcoholism, cycles of wanting to get better, depression, slipping in to old coping mechanisms, plus a little bit in here about dreams. This is a song for if Harry continues partying after the memory wipe, I suppose) ----

He seems nice You met him once or twice But you wonder what he's like When he's sober

Then again You hear he has no friends Just people that he spins To do him favors

When he wakes up in the morning he tells himself Today I'll make a change But falling into his bed at night he thinks Man it was a beautiful day to stay the same

I'm so deep That only in my sleep Do the secrets that I keep Float to the surface

So I hold them down Till they don't make a sound Like they accidentally drowned Except on purpose

And when I wake up in the morning I tell myself Today I'll make a change But falling into my bed at night I think Man it was a beautiful day to stay the same

---- Airbag - Radiohead (born again, back to save the universe) ----

In the next world war In a jackknifed juggernaut I am born again In the neon sign scrolling up and down I am born again

In an interstellar burst I am back to save the universe

In a deep, deep sleep of the innocent I am born again In a fast German car I'm amazed that I survived An airbag saved my life

In an interstellar burst I am back to save the universe

---- A Comet Appears - The Shins (puppeting a man-body around pretending to be a living thing. drinking, depression) ----

One hand on this wily comet Take a drink just to give me some weight Some uber-man I'd make I'm barely a vapor

They shone a chlorine light on A host of individual sins Let's carve my aging face off Fetch us a knife Start with my eyes Down so the lines Form a grimacing smile

Close your eyes to corral a virtue Is this fooling anyone else? Never worked so long and hard To cement a failure

---- The Communists Have the Music - They Might be Giants (Big Communism Builder, but especially Harry's shallow understanding of Communism. Party-boy communist) ----

I got handed an Ayn Rand sandwich Straight from the can, it tasted so bland I asked a lass to pass me a glass Of Engels' Conditions of the Working Class

Right away they dragged me to the committee To explain my un-American activity They're gonna see they made a mistake If they'd only let me play my mixtape

I'm not partial to the martial Or the plutocrats, in their beaver hats And the fascists have the outfits But I don't care for the outfits What I care about is music And the communists have the music

---- Harlem Roulette - The Mountain Goats (Harry thinking about Guillame le Million? Generally: that vibe of secret, maybe supranatural machinations happening just outside your field of view. A kinda lonely, pensive vibe, sprinkled with past drug use, driving...memory) ----

Unknown engines underneath the city Steam pushing up in billows through the grates Frankie Lymon's tracking "Seabreeze" in a studio in Harlem Its 1968. Just a pair of tunes to hammer out. Everybody's off the clock by 10:00. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again. Feels so free when I hit the avenue. Nothing like a New York summer night. Every dream's a good dream, Even awful dreams are good dreams, If you're doing it right. Remember soaring higher than a cloud. Get pretty sentimental now and then. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again. And four hours north of Portland, a radio flips on. And some no one from the future remembers that you're gone. Armies massing in the dusky distance. Ghosted in the ribbon microphone. Leave a little mark on something, maybe, Take the secret circuit home. Nothing in the shadows but the shadow hands. Reaching out to sad, young, frightened men. The loneliest people in the whole wide world are the ones you're never going to see again.

---- Suture up Your Future - Queens of the Stone Age (Harry's gonna fix his mess) ----

I'm gon' suture up my future I ain't jaded, I just hate it See, I been down too long It's kinda hard to explain Burned and buried, all I carried

...

Tried explaining unexplained Got caught in the plan All this talking at once I've been giving my love away To the things that tear it apart I'm gonna suture up my future

---- Lampshades on Fire - Modest Mouse (Harry trashing his body / having already trashed his body, just kinda a Harry-vibe song) ----

...

Well, the lampshade's on fire when the lights go out This is what I really call a party now Well, fear makes us really, really run around A-this one's done so where to now? Our eyes light up, we have no shame at all Well, you all know what I'm talking about The room lights up, but we're still dancing around We're having fun, having some fun now

Pack up again, head to the next place Where we'll make the same mistakes Open one up and let it fall to the ground Pile out the door when it all runs out

...

As our feelings are getting hurt Oh, we want you to do the work Our ass looks great inside these jeans Well, we want just our water clean

Well, this is how it's always been And this is how it's going to be So you just move on

---- Seven Nation Army - The White Stripes (Harry "can-opener" du Bois. Talking to the skills, solving things, detecting, generally being a terrifying force of nature / the pale) ----

I'm gonna fight 'em all A seven nation army couldn't hold me back They're gonna rip it off Taking their time right behind my back

And I'm talking to myself at night Because I can't forget Back and forth through my mind Behind a cigarette

And the message coming from my eyes Says, "Leave it alone"

Don't wanna hear about it Every single one's got a story to tell Everyone knows about it From the Queen of England to the Hounds of Hell

And if I catch it coming back my way I'm gonna serve it to you And that ain't what you want to hear But that's what I'll do

And the feeling coming from my bones Says, "Find a home"

---- Body of Years - Mother Mother (Harry's past that follows him, Harry's half-decomposed body that marks the years of abuse it's been through) ----

All the remains of a cadaver of days I keep hidden away, keep them there just in case I wanna visit that place Blow the dust from the bones Off a body of years that I leave all alone Just a body of years

See the skin disappears And the blood turns to stone In a body of years now a pile of bones Like a sheet of veneer Each a piece of my soul It's a body of years that I leave all alone

It's Just a body of years, now a pile of bones You know Old soul who falls down Can't stop trippin' on these Old roads I go down Get back up and get my foot in the door And my face on the page Make my mark in the world With a bat and a blade It's a body of work that you can't ever change Like a body of years that you take to your grave It's just a body of years that I leave all alone It's just a body of years, now a pile of bones Like a sheet of veneer Each a piece of my soul

---- The Cap-m - They Might be Giants (just a Harry vibe song) ----

When I talk you keep looking away from me 'Cause you probably think that I'm high on pot But I'm not, I'm not

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm You say it's such a joke But I don't see you laughing

People seem to think you can't be called the Cap'm Unless you drive a boat Well, I don't I don't

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm Go ahead and mess with me You'll find out what will happ'm

...

Did you say what I think you just said My hat looks good on me? I agree, I agree

Look me over, I'm the Cap'm You act like it's a joke But I don't see you laughing

---- Broke - Modest Mouse (oops! all mistakes. Broke it all. Want to forget it but can't) ----

Broke account, so I broke a sweat I've bought some things that I sort of regret about now Broke my pace and ran out of time Sometimes I'm so full of shit that it should be a crime

Broke a promise 'cause my car broke down Such a classic excuse it should be bronze by now Broke your glasses, but it broke the ice You said that I was an asshole and I paid the price

Broken hearts want broken necks I've done some things that I'd love to forget, but I can't

Broke up, and I'm relieved somehow It's the end of the discussions that just go 'round and 'round And 'round, and 'round, and 'round ... It was like everything was evidence of broken time

You're living on fancy wine You'll drink that turpentine You're starting conversations You don't even know the topic

---- Spent Gladiator 2 - The Mountain Goats (Defiantly alive) ----

Like a spent gladiator, Crawling in the coliseum dust. Who can count on his remaining limbs, All the people he can trust. Like the one who stands behind him, Cheering him on. Ecstatic when he stands defiant, Wild with abandon when he's gone. Just stay alive. Keep your eyes on the pay line. Like a village on the step, About to get collectivized. When the men emerge with rifles from the haystack, Everybody looks surprised. Like the mice in the forgotten grain, Way up on the top shelf. Like someone who's found a small town to escape to, Keeps one eye on his abandoned, former self. Stay in the game. Just try to play through the pain. Like a fighter who's been told its finally time for him to quit. Show up in shining colors, And then stand there and get hit. Like the clock that ticks in Dresden, When the whole town's been destroyed. Like the nagging flash of insight, You're always desperate to avoid. Like the bloody-knuckled gunman, Still stationed at the breach. Like that board game with the sliders, And the children on the beach. Stay alive. Maybe spit some blood at the camera. Just stay alive. Stay forever alive.

---- You Only Live Once - The Strokes (just general Harry, talking about the skills, choices you can make, what kind of cop you can be) ----

Twenty-nine different attributes Only seven that you like, oh-oh Twenty ways to see the world, oh And twenty ways to start a fight, oh

...

And countless odd religions too It doesn't matter which you choose, oh, no One stubborn way to turn your back, oh This I've tried and now refuse, oh

Oh don't, don't, don't get up I can't see the sunshine Oh, I'll be waiting for you, baby 'Cause I'm through Sit me down Shut me up I'll calm down And I'll get along with you

---- Pork and Beans - Weezer (Superstar Cop) ----

They say I need some rogaine to put in my hair Work it out at the gym to fit my underwear Oakley makes the shades to transform a tool You'd hate for the kids to think that you've lost your cool

I'ma do the things that I wanna do I ain't got a thing to prove to you I'll eat my candy with the pork and beans Excuse my manners if I make a scene I ain't gonna wear the clothes that you like I'm fine and dandy with the me inside One look in the mirror and I'm tickled pink I don't give a hoot about what you think

Everyone likes to dance to a happy song With a catchy chorus and beat so they can sing along Timbaland knows the way to reach the top of the charts Maybe if I work with him I can perfect the art

No, I don't care I don't care

---- Freaks - Surf Curse (head filled with skills, The Final Dream) ----

Don't kill me just help me run away From everyone I need a place to stay Where I can cover up my face Don't cry, I am just a freak

I am just a freak(x3)

My head is filled with parasites Black holes cover up my eyes I dream of you almost every night Hopefully I won't wake up this time

I won't wake up this time(x3)

---- The Smallest Church in Sussex - British Sea Power (oh yeah this is mandatory) ----

#disco elysium #harry du bois #harrier du bois #hdb #disco elysium playlist #generally wanted to keep this playlist fun to listen to despite the subject matter to there are still a lot of songs w good beats #communists have the music gets stuck in my head all the time #also sorry to repost this #i forgot to tag anything and if you edit something to add tags it doesn't seem to show up in search

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sunjaesol · 3 years

Note

Kiss prompt 19 Juke

KISS PROMPTS (closed)

19. One person stopping a kiss to ask “Do you want to do this?”, only to have the other person answer with a deeper, more passionate kiss.

(high school au)

In retrospect, the game ‘Seven Minutes In Heaven’ was a really bad idea. It could’ve really fucked them over had it not been the right time or place. It had been, thank God, but neither would risk it all again any time soon.

Julie was a mess.

Carrie’s house parties were, as expected, completely out of control. The kitchen was filled to the brim with alcohol, music boomed from stereos that probably reached the other side of LA, drunkards jumped in the pool and drinking games were started on a whim.

She’s avoided ‘Circle Of Death’, ‘Fuck The Dealer’, beer pong, flip cup, ‘Avalanche’ and whatever else existed. All she really wanted to do was dance and forget Luke had been flirting with Yasmine, a senior girl.

God, she was such a cliché. Of course, she was in love with her best friend. It didn’t help he was a year older nor that it was uncommon for her to feel like a child. She knew that was stupid. They were completely on the same wavelength and were super close, but then she saw some of the girls he liked talking to…

Yasmine was pretty and experienced and Julie was definitely not. Not in that way, at least. It wasn’t like she had a shot with Luke either, both strictly friends, but his interest in Yasmine didn’t help her self-esteem.

In a moment of weakness, (a combination of too many White Claws, the buzz of dancing, the taste of teenage angst, the bitter fantasy of being with him) Flynn and Kayla managed to drag her to the den. It was slightly quieter here. A group of kids were sprawled over the many couches in a circle, Carrie standing in the middle like some warrior in glitter.

Luke was there too. He saluted at her from the other side of the room as she sat down, amusement pulling on his lips.

“Alright,” Carrie declared. “Seven minutes in heaven! If you’re not into it, leave!”

A few left, Julie almost joining them in fright, when Flynn held her down. Her nails dug in her arm, a coy look crossing her hazy features.

“You either get over Luke, or you get with Luke.”

Julie shook her head. “No. This isn’t happening.”

“It is,” Kayla grinned. The girls high-fived each other. “You’re welcome.”

The game began. A suffering Julie watched on as Alex and Willie had no qualms pulling each other into the wall closet. They were lucky, basically already a couple with their very blatant flirting. She focused on talking to the girls or teasing the ones that were chosen, pointedly not looking in Luke’s direction.

What if he saw it in her eyes? That she wanted him? She’d die of mortification.

It was hard to not like Luke. He was the definition of effervescence. Every little thing he did had intention. Dialling his charm up to eleven, laughing harder than anyone else, encouraging her to chase all the dreams tucked in her dream-box with awed conviction. It was like he didn’t even have to try to be all-encompassing; he just was.

And she wasn’t the only who noticed. Ever since they’ve been friends - her a freshman and he a sophomore - she has seen girls come and go on his radar. Nothing ever stuck. Whenever Alex and Reggie called him out for it, he claimed he was too focused on music to care about that stuff.

She didn’t know whether that should make her happy or not.

Just as she was getting bored, leaning against Flynn while her friend recounted a story from her job, the bottle was handed to Luke. Instinctively, Julie straightened up. Her heart pounded in her throat, muscles straining and lungs constricting. This crush would kill her one day.

It spun and spun and spun and slowed down and twisted precariously, lingered and then… landed undoubtedly on Julie.

Shit.

Kayla gasped, cause of course she had to be unsubtle about it, while Flynn slapped her arm. Her friends were fucking wonderful.

Their eyes met, hers nervous and his apprehensive. God, that hurt. They didn’t even have to do anything.

“Chop chop,” Carrie smirked. Everyone knew they were best friends and a handful, like Carrie, picked up on Julie’s differing emotions. She was eating this up. “Go and make out!”

The crowd hollered as they stood up, this time with Luke rolling his at her, as if that would be comforting. She knew what he was trying to do, silently calling them idiots, but she just felt like the biggest idiot of all.

The closet door slammed shut. Encased in the dark, Julie tried to even her breathing.

“Huh,” Luke mused, so close she felt the words ghost her face. “Thought it would be bigger.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back as best as she could. “This is so lame.”

“Then why were you in the circle?”

“Why were you in the circle?” she retorted. Though usually a terrible liar, the obscurity helped her sell it. No way he saw her red cheeks and skittish gaze.

Her body was burning. He was too near, every cell of her all too aware of where he was. The hairs on their skin brushed when they inhaled, their hands mere inches away. They didn’t need to move to kiss; only needed to tilt her head to kiss him.

Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.

“Where were you, by the way?” he asked, faux-offended. “‘Toto’ was playing and I didn’t have my dance partner!”

She laughed, the tension marginally eased. “Sorry. I was busy avoiding Flynn from pulling me into a drinking game.”

“Aha! So, this is also Flynn’s plan.”

She shrugged. “More or less.” And then- “Were you hoping for Yasmine?”

What the fuck. Why did she say that?! It sounded so jealous! If he could see her, he’d remark she was going green with envy. Her eyes shut in embarrassment, waiting for a bark of laughter and a coy confession that yes, he was hoping to get alone with her.

Instead, she got a hesitant pause. “You- you think I wanna get with Yasmine?”

Swallowing back the pain, she uttered: “She’s pretty.”

“I guess.”

Another pause, more loaded with unsaid implications and rising temperatures. She felt him shifting on his feet, his arm swiping past hers and alighting her heart into a frenzy.

Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him.

“I want you.” Her eyes widened as she blurted out the double entendre. “To keep talking! I want you to keep talking.”

“Right,” he chuckled, a nervous edge to his tone. “Uh…”

Julie sighed, frustration building in her chest. “How long does seven minutes take?”

Luke scoffed. “Damn, Jules, it’s that bad to be in a closet with me?”

“No!” Gah! She was doing everything wrong! “That’s not… I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just-” Letting out a breath, she took a risk: “-nervous.”

All at once, she deflated with relief. It was out. No turning back. He could do whatever he wanted with that information.

“Good or bad nervous?” he whispered.

And then she felt it again, his hand coming near, knuckles bumping against hers. It pricked and sparked and she was losing her mind a little. But they were so close to something and Julie was too curious - too dazed - to not see where it led to.

“Good.” Her head tilted up, brave. “Very good.”

The quiet words lit a match, Luke surging forward as his hands slipped around her face and pressed an urgent kiss on her lips. It was so fast, so unexpectedly dizzying, that she didn’t have time to react. Right as she leaned in, he pulled away.

His voice trembled, thumbs swiping her cheeks. “Do you wanna do this?”

An incredulous chuckle leapt from her mouth, a beat later crashing their lips back together with two years of hidden passion pouring out. He groaned, hands clenched around her jaw and waist as hers were gripping his neck. Her soul was on fire, adrenaline coursing through her bloodstream at a tempo she couldn’t keep up with.

They deepened the kiss, tongues grazing past lips and teeth and eliciting pleasurable sighs and needy whimpers. Falling onto her side of the closet, Julie interrupted the kiss to giggle at his frantic rush.

“Don’t laugh,” he giggled along, muffling the sound with another kiss as he crowded over her.

It was intoxicating. The faint scent of his cologne, allowing her nails to trail his jaw, arching into him like he etched a space for her long ago. Kissing Luke was better than any drink she could get here.

When his face shifted, lips dropping to her jaw and shrivelling any rational thought she might’ve had, she gasped out: “I take it you weren’t interested in Yas?”

“Never,” he mumbled. Having him so close, she saw the way his hooded eyes flicked up at her. “Is this real to you?”

The nod was fast and the kiss even faster, their incessant grins keeping them from tilting off their axis. This was the realest she’s ever been with him. This was the only way she could ever be with him; impossible to go back to friends after this. Every touch drove her further into her feelings, that delicious type of wild she’d been craving for so long.

His hands snuck underneath her top, its warmth causing shivers up her spine and a pleased smile to curl his lips. The move made her push the beanie from his head and rake her fingers through the soft locks. It was the right call, their teasing game washing away any sense of doubt or fear.

Or sense of time.

The door flung open. Instantly, everyone in the room started screaming and whistling at the sight of the pair’s compromising position. Flynn and Kayla were hugging each other as if their favourite artists just appeared in front of them. Alex and Reggie body-slammed in victory.

Julie couldn’t be bothered to feel embarrassed. Luke and her were finally where they were supposed to be. Noting the cocky grin crawling up his face, he was thinking the same thing.

Carrie was unfazed, a quirked brow assessing them.

“Had fun?”

#juke #jatp fanfiction #kiss prompts #ask ophelia

125 notes · View notes

dumdumsun · 3 years

Text

Forever and Never

A/N: I did it again, @moatsnow! I’m vvv sorry hun 🥺❤️

Warnings: ⚠️rape⚠️, mentions of alcohol and marijuana

Word Count: 5014

—————————————

Four: Good For Me

“So, Richard seemed to have been this… distraction. Because being around Stanley made you feel less than, but Richard admired you. You had no faults when you were with him. So, what made you end it? Did something else happen?”

“Yeah… The next day was his birthday.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He’d been texting me all morning. From the moment I opened my eyes, all throughout breakfast, as I took a shower and got dressed. Wasn’t it his birthday? Didn’t he have preparations to go through for his party that night? Of course, I wished him a happy birthday and assured him that I would attend his party. I figured I might as well buy him a present, since most people would only show up to eat food and get drunk. He probably wouldn’t have been receiving many gifts.

As I descended the stairs, I heard Pam and David rushing around the house. “We’re gonna be late, David!”

“I’m aware!”

“Where are the keys?!”

“In your hand!”

I chuckled and leaned against the railing. “What’s going on?”

David turned towards me and sighed. “It’s Jacob’s presentation today, remember? He’s doing that sort of TED Talk thing at school?”

“Oh, yeah… Well, I’m not gonna be able to go, I’d be late to Ricky’s party by the time we got back.”

“Shit, that’s right… I completely forgot about errands as well. It’s our only free day.” He ran his hands through his hair. I perked up and walked the rest of the way down.

“I can do it. I’ll already be out, buying a present for Ricky.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Pam joined the conversation as she and David approached the front door. I nodded with a smile.

“Yeah, it’ll… give me something to do today.”

Pam gave me that same bittersweet smile she usually did before enveloping me in a hug. “You’re so perfect, (Y/N)...”

“Uh… thanks.” My brows furrowed as she pulled away. I looked to my uncle for any clue as to why she suddenly became so sentimental, but he avoided my gaze, muttering something about wanting me to be safe before walking out of the house. “Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, baby, we’re fine. You be safe today. Don’t get so drunk that you can’t walk straight. And stay the night at Dina’s, if you can!” She called out as she left out the door. I only nodded my head in response, slowly closing the door after her. My phone vibrated in my pocket, so I fished it out to see yet another text.

Ricky: Do you wanna come over and spend the day with me?

I cringed and rolled my eyes. Wasn’t me coming to his party enough? Shaking my head, I replied to him.

Me: I’m actually booked until the party. Lots of errands to run for my aunt and uncle

To be truthfully honest, I just needed to go grocery shopping and stop by the bookstore to pick up Pam’s order. It would only have taken me about an hour at most to complete my tasks. Did Ricky need to know this? Not at all. Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I snatched the grocery list from the fridge and began my quest for the day.

It hadn’t actually registered in my mind that I would need a car for the day. Our list was pretty long, which left me with armfulls of paper grocery bags, my aunt’s book tucked into my jacket pocket located on the inside. I could hardly see over the tops of the bags, but navigated myself all the way towards the diner before I heard a car pull up beside me. I turned my head to see Stan, giving me a goofy grin, eyes shielded by his sunglasses. He reached over to open the passenger door from the inside. “Hey, there, lovely.”

“Good morning there, beautiful.” I chuckled, opening his back door to store my bags in his seats before climbing into the passenger seat beside him. “Thanks so much.”

“It’s my pleasure,” He tilted his head as if he just winked, but it wasn’t like I could’ve seen it. “So, you’re shopping for Aunt Pam?”

“Uh, yeah. Jake had a presentation at his school today and I… had things to do already. So, why not? Might as well do something for them,” I explained as he began driving again. Down the road, I spotted two familiar figures exiting the diner. “Oh, is that Sydney? And her brother?”

“Indeed, it is.” Stan grinned as he turned the corner. His car pulled over towards them, Sydney’s brother excitedly pointing us out. She turned to the car with pursed lips. I turned down the music as Stan reached over to roll down the window, the glass creaking at its usual agonizingly slow pace. I visibly cringed as Sydney gave a painful smile. Once it was down just enough, Stan nodded towards her. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Her smile turned a bit more genuine. Her brother, who introduced himself as Liam, greeted both Stan and I before we all shifted into an awkward silence. Thankfully, Stan broke it after a couple of beats.

“So, it’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah,” Sydney giggled, and I detected a hint of anxiety. “Yeah, you, too.”

“So, do you wanna,” Stan pushed his sunglasses to sit in his curls. “Do you wanna, like, do somethin’ later tonight or somethin’?”

Sydney opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again, all while Stan held his glowing smile. What the hell was going on? “You know, I would, but Dina and I are going to Ricky Berry’s party.”

“No shit? I’ll be there, too.” Stan excitedly sat up.

“Oh, you will?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah. Okay, right,” She chuckled. Anyone around could tell that Sydney was clearly uncomfortable, except for Stan. He was on top of the world, it seemed. “So, I guess I’ll see you there. And we gotta go. Right now.” She quickly ushered her brother down the road. I leaned towards my window and giggled into my hand. Stan slowly slipped his sunglasses back on, muttering a ‘cool’, which only caused me to laugh harder.

“Okay, what the hell is going on between you two?”

Stan gave me a look, or what I assumed was a look, as he continued towards our houses. “What? What are you talking about?”

“What’s going on with you and Syd? And don’t say nothing. You’re literally glowing right now.”

“Okay, okay,” He cleared his throat. “So, last night… we, um… Well, we may or may not have had sex.”

I hoped he hadn’t noticed me hesitate. My brain short circuited and my throat constricted. “O-Oh, really? Like, last night-last night?”

“Yeah, last night-last night.”

“Gross.” I lightly joked and Stan rolled his head towards me with a sly smirk. Chuckling, he looked back towards the road.

“Anyway, I assume you’re going to the party, too? Since you’re Ricky’s little homecoming date now.”

My eyes widened. “You saw it, too?!”

“Everyone saw it, Nugget. ‘The Power Couple’ or whatever they said.” He shook his head.

“Ugh, we are not a couple and I do not want to go to homecoming with him!”

“Then why’d you say yes?!”

“Because everyone was there! They planned the whole thing and my brain just thought to say yes!” I buried my head in my hands. I heard Stan coo from beside me with a small tut.

“My poor little Nugget. I should’ve asked you out before Ricky could.”

I peeked up at him with a warm smile. “Nah, it’s okay. It’s just homecoming, I’m not marrying him. Besides you should ask out Sydney, anyway.”

“Oh, that is the plan.” He grinned.

When we arrived at my house, I got out to carry in the bags, but I heard Stan turn off the car and exit as well. He joined me in retrieving the bags from the seats and waited patiently for me to unlock the front door. Once we were inside, we headed straight for the kitchen and set the bags on the table.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve been inside here,” He commented, looking around the house with a soft smile. I hummed in agreement before our gazes met. “Does your bedroom still look the same?”

The feeling that swept through my soul as I watched Stan excitedly explore my bedroom was a feeling I’d never felt before, but never wanted to leave. He marveled at all of the little trinkets displayed on my shelves, my organized bookshelf, the board above my desk filled with every pin I’ve ever collected. But what had him giddy and pumping his fist in the air was the Bloodwitch poster on my door. “Ah, I knew it! You knew all of the words to Hey Little Girl! You used to hate that song!”

“I don’t have to like the song to know all the words, all you play is Bloodwitch!” I laughed. He pointed towards me as if to say ‘don’t deny it’. I deflated. “Okay, yeah, I finally got into Bloodwitch. I guess it was… just something to remind me of you.”

I nervously stuffed my hands into the pockets of my jeans as Stan slowly lowered his arm, his expression softening. His stance stuttered, like he had stopped himself from doing or saying something instinctive, before scoffing.

“Yeah, well, the school’s horrible plays are what reminded me of you.” He rolled his eyes, receiving a light slap to the arm from me. Once Stan left for his own home, I returned to the kitchen to put the food away in their respective places. I made sure to put David’s cookies in his ‘secret’ compartment within the pantry. I knew he’d appreciate it since Jacob always found them if they weren’t stored correctly. I quietly giggled to myself, thinking back to a time when Jacob swore up and down that he hadn’t eaten the cookies. In fact, I remember correctly that we both had eaten them and he was just trying to cover for the both of us. We were caught the next day and forced to sit through a fifteen minute lecture on respecting our elders and the importance of privacy.

I nearly forgot about Pam’s book, but I remembered as I passed her bedroom door. Slipping it out of my pocket, I entered her room. There were shoes scattered across the floor and the bed was unmade, no doubt from her rushing around earlier. Knowing that she’d check her dresser, I set her book just there. However, I noticed a small, rectangular beige box already sitting there. I would have left it alone until I saw my name written on it. My hand reached out to pick up the box, but I stopped. It’s probably a present, I thought. I shouldn’t open it until it’s given to me. So, with a small hum of uncertainty, I left the bedroom.

Contrary to popular belief, I actually have a pretty simplistic fashion sense. It was nowhere near as bold as Stan’s, and I suppose that’s why we were seen as an odd pair, but I had just a bit more flare than my fellow peers. Everyone was just a copy-and-paste version of each other. They wore the same skinny jeans, the same fitted shirts, the same sneakers. While I never wore bright yellows and greens, I still hadn’t conformed to the everyday go-to fashion line that was their “hot” or “cute”. Besides, Brownsville was so boring, everything and everyone there was so one-dimensional. It only made sense that their choice in clothing was the same. What I’m trying to say is that people thought I had a bold fashion sense because I simply dressed differently, but it was simply how we dressed in my hometown in Kansas. I think Stan would have fit in at home.

I was a back-and-forth routine from my dresser to my bed, texting Dina as I readied myself for Ricky’s party that night. Apparently, she had Sydney over at her house, the two getting ready together. I didn’t have a problem with it, as long as Dina was still picking me up. She informed me that she had just gotten Syd into a cute top that would show more skin than she usually did. Despite not really being her friend, knowing that Sydney was leaving her comfort zone, as small of a step as it was, had me smiling at my phone, However, that smile dropped at the next text Dina sent.

Dina: Omg you HAVE to look cute for Ricky tonight

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt.

Me: I don’t get dressed up for boys anymore. I do it for myself

And it was true. When Ricky and I dated, I felt as though I had to look the part of the trophy he presented to everyone. I wore clothes I normally didn’t, I wore more makeup, smiled more. Even if they were faked. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like pretending, but Ricky didn’t seem to mind. He’d simply point out that he “liked the new look”. Well, I’ve changed. My half year solitude in Kansas taught me self-awareness, and I became aware that I am fucking hot. So, I did look cute that night, but not for Ricky. I did it for my own pleasure. And I hoped they all liked the new look.

Of course, my go-to bottoms were black high-waisted jeans that stopped just above my navel, paired with a red long-sleeved crop top. To match, I added in little black and red clips in my hair and dusted black eyeshadow on my lids. Afterwards, I stepped in front of my mirror to admire my work. I remember my mom telling me when I was young that looking in the mirror will tell you everything you hope to see in yourself, and I agree with that to some extent. But looking at myself in that moment told me that, despite how shitty I felt on a daily basis, I was more than deserving of reveling in my new adaptation. I wasn’t at my happiest, and lord knows I’m still screwed up, but at least I knew who I was. I wasn’t some angry, emotional ball of anxiety, deprived of parental love. Yes, I was turned away from my father more than ever at that point, but I had realized where all the love for me resided. I was someone’s daughter, someone’s sister, someone’s best friend.

Someone’s girlfriend.

Or whatever the hell we were supposed to be.

Hearing my phone ping, I picked it up and read the text from Dina.

Dina: We’re here

Tucking my phone into my pocket, I slipped on some white sneakers and grabbed Ricky’s present off my vanity before dashing downstairs. I opened the door to find Dina and Sydney standing together on my doorstep. Upon seeing me, their jaws dropped. “Whoa, you look… hot.” Syd raised her brows, and I couldn’t help but smile at her approval. Dina chuckled and nodded.

“Yeah, (Y/N), you always seem to surprise us…”

“I try my best.” I stepped out of the house and locked the front door before facing the two. “Let’s party, shall we?”

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

Music thumped from the inside of the house as we approached the driveway, some party goers trickling inside. Sydney, Dina and I all stopped in the middle of the driveway, staring up at Ricky’s house. The two seemed excitedly anxious, but I felt as if I was going to hurl my guts up. The last time I had been in that house wasn’t the most pleasurable experience.

He can’t and won’t do that to you again, (Y/N).

What I would give to go back in time to warn her.

“Shit…” Sydney breathed.

“Okay, I’m scared, but fun scared,” Dina nodded, glancing between me and Syd. “Like we’re about to skydive for the first time or something.”

“Well, I’m not fun scared.” Syd turned her gaze back to the house.

“Me neither…” My voice was just above a whisper.

“Feels like we’re about to be eaten by wolves, like… really drunk, judgemental wolves.”

A moment of silence for all confidence lost.

“We’re gonna be fine,” Dina decided. “I just wish I could inject vodka directly into my veins first.”

“I do have this.” Syd smiled and pulled out a flask. Dina and I grinned before the former took it from her best friend. She took a hearty gulp from the flask before handing it over to me. Not wanting to get too drunk just yet, I took a few sips and handed the flask back to its owner. Once we were fueled up, we headed inside. I’d spent so many hours in Ricky’s house, but so few of those hours were spent partying. The most people I’d seen in his home were about six, including me. That was when he brought me over for dinner the first time and both his older brothers attended. What a waste that dinner was. I led the two up the stairs, kindly waving at my peers who called out to me. Most of them complimented my outfit, to which I quietly thanked. As we entered the main room, the volume of the music and the voices increased so that I was swimming in my surroundings.

“Dina!” I heard Ricky call out. The three of us turned to the birthday boy as he approached us. “Welcome to the madness!”

“Hey.” Dina smiled. His eyes then slid over to me, his own smile brightening.

“And Zip… God, you look great. Really great.”

“Thanks, Ricky. Happy birthday.” I nodded before letting him pull me into his side. I placed a hand on his chest to steady myself as his head turned to Sydney, as if she’d just walked in and didn’t appear with us.

“Hey. Hey. Oh, gosh, don’t tell me. I know it. I know this one.” He acted as if he were trying so hard to remember his own classmate’s name. I rolled my eyes and removed my hand from his chest. Sydney slowly nodded her head, giving him just a bit more time to “think” before answering.

“Sydney.”

“Right! I thought it started with an S, yeah. Well, you guys go enjoy, alright? Zip, why don’t you come and party with me?”

“Oh, well, um…,” My gaze shifted from Ricky’s smile to Dina’s slight frown. Sighing, I gestured for the two to go. “I’ll find you guys later. Have fun.”

“You, too.” They replied simultaneously before Ricky pulled me away to a group of friends. As we walked, I handed the little box over to him.

“Got you something.”

“Awe, babe, you shouldn’t have.” He lightly laughed and took the box into his hands. His eyes widened when he opened it to reveal a gold watch he’d been talking about for awhile. He claimed his father wouldn’t let him buy it because Ricky needed to stop spending so much money on himself. It wasn’t very expensive, so I thought it’d be as good a present as any. With child-like giddiness, he slapped the watch onto his wrist before kissing my cheek. “(Y/N), you are the most thoughtful girl in this world.”

Why did my heart skip a beat? “It was nothing, Ricky… You always go all-out for me, so…” There was no part of me that actually liked Ricky. Remember that. I think the liquor from earlier had just gotten to me. With a soft sigh, he hugged me from behind and walked me to a nearby table where boxes of pizza were displayed.

“You hungry?”

“I am, actually…”

My time spent at Ricky’s party felt as if I were on a mission. Mission Ignore Ricky. He was attached to me the whole time, arm around the bare of my waist, around my shoulders. It was like he needed to be certain that I was still there. That he could still look at me. Everytime I tried to go and find Syd and Dina, he pulled me right back into his side. My only solution was to drink heavily. Whenever someone offered to refill my cup, I accepted. If someone handed over a can of beer, I took it. A shot? Hell yes, count me in! Anything to drown out the sound of his voice in my ears. I’m not a lightweight, so it takes awhile for my haze to kick in. When it did, I was a smiling mess, nodding along to everything everyone said. In my underwater state, I could faintly make out Ricky referring to me as his girlfriend in conversations with his friends. With a grunt, I lazily slapped his shoulder, eliciting laughter amongst them. Within ten minutes, a Rick Springfield song that everyone collectively liked started up in the speakers. We all cheered and began dancing. I happily laughed as Ricky rested his hands on my hips, the two of us grooving to the music. He shook his head as he marveled at my drunken state.

“I’ve missed this…”

“Getting drunk?”

“No. Your smile. Your laugh,” He leaned forward. “I’ve missed you.”

“That’s so… poetic.” I whispered, causing a quiet laugh to escape his throat. My eyes slid to the right to find Stan. My breathing quickened at the sight of him in a baby blue suit, sitting alone on a couch with Dina and Syd dancing together in front of him. How I wished to be over there… Especially when he looked up and locked eyes with mine. All of the air in my lungs was kicked out at the relieved smile he gave me, and I breathed out in the same emotion. He’s here…

Ricky suddenly looked up over my head, an even wider smile stretching across his face. “Bra-a-ad! You made it!” He exclaimed and walked the both of us over to his best friend. The two high-fived as I blinked rapidly, as if I’d sober up from it.

“Dude, I had to come,” Brad smiled before his attention moved to me. “Zip, hey!”

“Hey.”

“Did you come here with Dina?”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s… um, dancing or something.” I giggled. Brad nodded with a raised brow.

“Someone’s been havin’ fun, huh?” He chuckled before I felt Ricky turn away.

“Hey, everyone! Bradley Lewis in the house!” He announced, cheers erupting from the party participants. They all cheered for a speech, which I found unnecessary, but leaned my head on Ricky’s shoulder as I listened to Brad quiet everyone.

“Eighteen years and nine months ago today, George Reginald Berry and his sweet wife Carol-”

“That’s not their names.” Ricky shook his head in amusement, everyone quietly laughing with him.

“They were drinkin’ a little bit of pinot grig’, and they were blastin’ some Neil Diamond. And then nine months later, Richard “Dickwad” Berry was born. And thank god for that because the Berrys’ birthday parties are the fucking best! To Ricky, everybody!”

With the cheers that followed, I found it to be my perfect time for escape. I slipped away from Ricky and squeezed through countless bodies to reach the back door. Stumbling outside, I caught myself on the railing towards the stairs that led off the deck. With difficulty, my wobbly legs took me down to the side of the house, where my hero was leaning against, readying a joint. There was no doubt my ceaseless giggling was what attracted his attention. He chuckled and watched as I stumbled towards him, falling into his side. Stan wrapped an arm around me as I laughed.

“Hey, there, lovely.”

“Hi, beautiful.” I grinned up at him, eyes half lidded. His brows drew down for a moment before he remembered his occupied hand. Removing his arm from around me, he took out his lighter, setting a flame to the end of his joint. I watched in fascination as he inhaled the smoke with closed eyes. His curls sat on his forehead, his lips pursed around the joint, his other arm made its way around my shoulders again. I rested my chin on his shoulder before he passed the smoke to me. I happily took a hit and let the peaceful silence fall between us for the five seconds that it lasted.

“So, you and Ricky… How’s that going?”

“How’s what going?” I mumbled.

“You know, you guys dating. It’s what he’s telling everyone.”

“Oh, my god, I knew he was telling everyone!” I groaned and ran a hand over my face. “I’m so sick of that. He can’t just... f-fucking, um… fucking lie to everyone like that! We are not dating, we’ve never even talked about it! What the hell, dude… I don’t even get why he’s so in love with me, Stan…”

He didn’t reply at first, but when I looked up, I realized it was because he was smoking. When he pulled the joint from his lips, he stared forward. “I mean, he’s got someone amazing, if you guys were actually dating. Believe it or not, (Y/N), you’re the coolest person I’ve ever met. And you’re fun and humorous and so driven. You’ve got these huge dreams and you’ll follow every single one of them… I’d be pretty proud if you were my girlfriend,” The second he looked down at me, I giggled loudly. He blushed and moved his eyes to the side. “I-I’m- I’m serious!”

Elevating myself with my toes, I closed the gap between us in a sloppy kiss. I could taste the alcohol on his lips and I was sure he could taste the same on mine. My hands reached up and placed themselves on his cheeks. I felt him lean more into the kiss for a second before he quickly ripped himself away, as if he were just burned. He blinked over and over as I tried to settle my blurry vision on him. Shaking his head, he sighed.

“(Y/N), you’re drunk.”

“I’m drunk.”

“Yeah, we can’t do this.” He seemed to be telling himself more than to me. I pouted and loosely wrapped my arms around him.

“I love you, Stan…”

“I love you, too, but I think you should get inside and find Dina.” He ushered me to the stairs and watched as I carefully planted my foot on the first step.

“Okay… I’m sorry, Stan.”

“You’re fine, I promise.”

“Okay. I’m gonna go inside, okay? You’re gonna be okay out here by yourself, okay? Okay?” I widened my eyes when he didn’t immediately answer. He let out a short laugh and turned me around again.

“Alright, go inside and find Dina.”

“‘Kay. I love you, Stan.”

“I love you, too. I’m gonna stand here and watch you go.”

“Have fun.” I sang and ungracefully made my way up the stairs and back inside the house.

Apologizing to the many people I bumped into, I found myself in the hallway, in between the bedrooms. My head felt like it weighed tons, my eyes wanted to close so badly. I felt a hand on my shoulder and leaned into the body behind me.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

My head whirled around to find Ricky behind me. I felt myself deflate in disappointment. “Hey, Ricky…”

“Where’ve you been, babe?”

“Oh, I was talking to my friend outside.” I grinned at the thought of Stan. Ricky raised a brow in amusement and I quickly covered my mouth as to not let the moment between Stan and I slip out. His dark brown orbs flickered between me and the door behind me before he gently took hold of my arm.

“Let’s go somewhere private, okay?”

“Okay.” I whispered, allowing him to guide me wherever. Before I knew it, we were in a room. I heard the click of a lock from behind before Ricky was suddenly in front of me. My head swam as I surveyed my surroundings, quickly realizing we were in his bedroom. “Oh, what are we doing?”

“Shh, shh, don’t worry about it.” He whispered. I hummed a little tune as I felt his hands move to my exposed skin, tracing little shapes. He littered my jaw in small kisses as he discarded my top. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my torso for warmth.

“Ricky, what are we doing?” I repeated as he popped the button of my jeans loose. Gasping, I moved his hands away. “No, no… I don’t want to…” I weakly protested.

“No, it’s okay, babe, it’s okay.” He shushed me. I felt myself fall back into his cool bed sheets. I blinked slowly. Once, his ceiling. Twice, his ceiling. Thrice, him. He was on top of me, my pants were gone, and his hands were travelling places I never wanted them to be. I let out a whine of protest, but he clearly took it as pleasure.

“Ricky…” I sighed out as his finger hooked under my bra strap. “Don’t… Stop…” I squirmed under him, both my stupor and high clouding my consciousness.

I don’t remember it. I don’t remember how it felt. I just didn’t like it. I didn’t like Ricky.

Sunlight pierced my eyelids as I felt warm lips on my forehead. I opened my eyes to find Ricky, fully dressed in different clothing than I last saw him in. He was holding out a glass of water and a couple pills. “For your head.”

“My head?” I whined, but hissed right when a splitting headache spread across my skull. I sat up, holding my head. My body was suddenly freezing cold and when I went to wrap my arms around myself, I saw that I was bare. Gasping, I clutched Ricky’s covers over me. “Oh, my god…”

“Yeah,” Ricky chuckled and set the medicine down. “We were so drunk last night… Anyway, I wanna take you out for brunch, so you should start getting ready. You can wear my clothes, babe.” He spoke as he headed out of the room, closing the door behind him. My eyes travelled to my undergarments on the floor not too far from the bed.

Fuck.

—————————————

Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @sapphicsyn @stqnley @lonely-kermit @juliet-does-not-give-a-fuck @moatsnow

#i am not okay with this #ianowt #ianowt x reader #stanley barber #stanley barber x reader #wyatt oleff #wyatt oleff x reader #i am not okay with this x reader #ianowt fanfic #ianowt stanley barber #forever and never

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honestlyfrance · 3 years

Text

( oranges in october )

You’d think that just because he had wings and he flies, that makes him an Icarus. Icarus fell to his death. He did not resurface, he did not live beyond that power. Sam Wilson soared high into the missiles of war and came back battered and red, dripping love and death as he stands in the aftermath of it all. You think he was an Icarus when he was actually Apollo. Anyone who gets too close to him falls to the ocean waves, then sooner than later, he’s left singing eulogies as his heart rattles in a cage.

He’s sadness in a bottle. He’s got a lot of baggage, and it took so much of him to figure out how he was going to carry it.

If you ever wondered why tragedy is always romanticized, it was because the red was too much, and what else is there to do? They made songs out of the fallen and poems from their last breaths. Sam Wilson gasped, “Let him live. Let me catch him,” and his arms caught the air that whisked Riley away. He only had a few regrets.

Sam’s thoughts ran that day. He wondered what would have happened if he did catch him. Would Riley say some ridiculous remark, or would he be shaken, overcome with the trauma of near-death? Would Riley cry, or would he be quiet, forever empty? Would Sam never have left the Air Force or would he be more careful, a never-ending feeling of death following him? It was no use anyway. All that Sam thinks of was What if I never met Riley? What if Sam never loved a man so much his death shattered his very soul. He’s battered. Gold can’t glue him back together. He’s seen so much red, it’s bleeding in his heart.

They buried an empty coffin.

Maybe if he had never let himself love then he wouldn’t get hurt. If Sam never let himself be vulnerable, maybe he could think of death as a missing person. Gone from your world, but somewhere out there living their best life, now that would be quite the belief. Sam wouldn’t have to spend so many nights alone if he had only let himself believe that. What if I never met him? He thinks that he would be better off okay.

It’s selfish, he knows, but seeing it happen and pretend it never did was something awfully wrong to him. It was like driving through an empty highway in the dark, speeding by with your headlights the only source of light, and suddenly by your right, you see the mangled corpse of some dead thing on the side of the road. You were too late, you couldn’t stop now or turn back around. It was dream-like, it always was. Sam couldn’t turn back and save it. It was like he didn’t know him anymore.

He’s screaming in his head because Riley wasn’t supposed to die young. That man had ambitions and plans. The world hadn’t had the right to do something so cruel.

If anyone tried to touch his hand, it would only go through. Sam couldn’t feel himself as he mourned. It’s all falling apart.

The thing is, it wasn’t just Riley. It was everyone who ever tried to be close to him. He’s a grown man whose most feared words were still, “Your mother isn’t coming home” and he wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain it. He knows he doesn’t owe an explanation about his grievances, but the thing that terrifies himself is the fact that he can’t even begin to explain anything. Sam can’t say how much he loved these people to even begin to comprehend how much it hurts. It’s a pool of love that drained itself every time he tried to do so. He can’t reach the seafloor.

Sometimes he thinks his remorse is just an overreaction, and then he becomes numb to the point it’s his normal to grieve this deeply.

He’s trying. He’s trying so hard. Please believe him when he says it.

He sees himself break and he doesn't even know what from. He's falling so slow he braces for the impact before he even brought out his wings. God, he’s trying, believe him when he says it.

Sam knows he's shattered. He's looking like a lost cause. Like a bruise pressed every time he sees it, he's screaming for the ache. He wants to live but at the same time, he wants every tear he shed to drown him. Heaven sighs at their angel, and Sam's going down like Babylon.

He's lonely, after the war. He's curled into his sheets as if everything was too loud to look at. He left the Air Force then he's looking up into the sky, wondering if every pararescue was an angel in disguise. Sam’s eyes were tired and he wished for a kiss goodnight.

Forgive him. He's sad and lonely. He wants to romanticize every single quiver of life before he loses it.

Goddamn, how he loses it. Sam walked alone on the pavement and dropped his umbrella, feels the first drop of rain on his cheek like a lover's kiss. And, oh, he's gone mad — mad with loneliness. He wants to kiss the sun all of the sudden but his tongue tasted like ashes from the war he died to escape from. He's losing his mind deciding if he's allowed to love again, and now he's shattered as he thinks about it.

Is a kiss any less lovely if it had been a different set of lips? Sam's turned to Shakespeare just wondering about it. He's still trying, believe him. It's just that the wounds on his back ran deeper than the trenches in the ocean and no one seemed to want to even acknowledge the depths of it. No one wanted a scar so deep they'd have to fill it with love to dig out the doubt.

War made poor boys angry and Sam might be one of them, he doesn't know. The pull of heaven’s light is enough to blind him but he knows the books, don't trust his own faith as much as he's used to. He's praying blindly and confesses as if he's got the right to in the first place.

If repentance was a kiss, Sam wouldn't even think he'd deserve to think about it.

He moves sluggish but that’s what depression does to you. It takes all of his might to even hold his niece in his arms without crying and then his sister's whispering in his ear, "I love you, Sam, but don't you ever hurt yourself." He finds himself in front of the VA Hospital in D.C. and suddenly he’s crying in the car as he drives home afterward. It was like an ocean wave cleansed his soul, but the shore was still a mess, he knew as much, but he'd watched the water ebb and flow for as long as the day burns bright.

There are years of healing after that, and he knows he’s trying, believes it some days but sometimes he forgets. It felt like eons finding help. Sam tells himself that war kept chasing him when in reality he just misses it, jumps at the first sight of danger, and follows it through the depths of hell. It wasn’t his fault — no one’s fault really. Who was to predict that Sam would be an Avenger?

No one thinks that what he does is like war, but Sam could sense the familiarity. He’s soaring into the sky and he’s kicking helicopters by the tail. He’s following orders and sending them out, back on a team so different from his own that it grounds him into reality. This isn’t war, he thinks, it’s just what your body wants you to think.

Sometimes he’s falling and he feels like he’s in another dream. Other times, he’s dreaming and he screams. But he knew that he shouldn’t regret what he had lost, all he needed was to take care of what he has now before he loses it later. You know, Natasha Romanoff once said that he was the embodiment of the present, so aware of your surroundings, you pick out exit strategies as if you made the floorplan. You don’t think of how the past is haunting you or even think of what you could have.

I’m trying to get through the day, he says to himself and her. Little things like these keep me okay.

Years pass and he finds what he could have had a little too late. He appreciated what he had had with his closest friends but he feels like pouring alcohol on a wound that never truly healed. Sam finds out Natasha was gone and he breaks even further, grief becoming too much of a permanent thing in his life.

He's singing Ave Maria as he's dying.

( read more on AO3 )

#sambucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #winterfalcon #repost but ok :)#france: works #france: writing

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yami-writes · 3 years

Text

Out Of Reach - Cupid’s Arrow

(✨) paring(s) — ghost!yandere!Tsukishima x f!reader (🔮) synopsis — The Mysterious Entity finds himself an interesting human, one that awakens something deep within him, something he hasn't touched in centuries. Memories… of a past life.. perhaps…? (⚠️) warning(s) — yandere behavior, killing, funerals(?), mentions of hell, Alcohol intake, mentions of drugs/drug intake, overdose, suicide. (also i have no idea how drugs or overdoses work...) (🔖) word count — 0.9k (💌) yami's note — we gettin’ dark today bois (apologies)~ aND TY @mortedeveles FOR ANOTHER BANNER MWAH <3 #STANVELES

‘She’s mine.’ he continues to tell himself, ‘Nobody else can have her.’ The only question he has for himself is... Why? Why must she be the one to catch his eye. What sets her apart from the rest? What makes her actions that much more particular, significant, special... meaningful… It seems only time will tell.

How long has it been? A month? Two months? Doesn’t matter. It seems every day Kei’s becoming closer to his goal of having her all to himself. Kei has patience, he always has. He’ll wait as long as he needs to, end as many innocent lives as it takes to have her.

‘Why must she spend so much time mourning the dead?’ he ponders to himself, watching as she got ready to attend the third funeral this month. Kei also begins to wonder which family member she’s grieving this time. ‘Why must a departed soul watch as their loved ones shed tears for them? Would they not rather see them happy, enjoying their life?’ He dwelled on this idea for a while, watching as she walked out of her house and into her car. She stayed there for a moment, her forehead resting on the driving wheel. Tears. Hot tears streamed down her face and plopped on the wheel, although Kei couldn’t seem to really care.

Kei spent the funeral thinking long and hard about his infatuation with this human, as he couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to the funeral. He doesn’t find himself wanting to kill her. If he did, he could dance with her soul amongst the clouds. Move on from the world and truly have her to himself, experience the lost, unfamiliar feeling of completion, fulfillment, happiness. However, that’s not what he desires. He doesn’t seek to spend the next eternity with her. He doesn’t seek to hold her hands, guide her to the open spot in the clouds to watch the sunset. She isn’t the one he wants, and yet he has a strange addiction to her, like a kid and their sweets jar. He could let go anytime he wanted, allow the lives he took to go to waste, to serve no greater cause, he has no problem with that, but he just… can’t. He’ll come back eventually, the emotional force driving Kei towards her was unbreakable, so he didn’t resist.

Kei wonders something. If he were to kill the human, set her soul free, allow it to move on, would he be able to do so too? If he were to wish to dance amongst the clouds, the stars with her, would his final wish be granted? Or would he end up much deeper than that? Somewhere deep down below in the company of souls who have committed unforgivable acts. Burning, suffering... perishing among the flames for all eternity. Surely with all the lives he’s taken so far, there would be no going back... Is that truly how it’s going to end? Will there ever be an end?

━━━━━━━━━♥━━━━━━━━━

Valentine's day began to approach. Anyone who would dare even spare her a glance was quickly added to Kei’s kill list, although those who never spoke to her again were spared for the sole reason that killing them would waste time, the time he could use to end others who decide they want to befriend Kei’s human. As the days go by Kei starts to notice something, almost like a pattern, although he’s not quite sure how it works or if it’s even a consistent pattern. ‘What is this weird pill…?’ Kei watches as the human takes the second one of the night. ‘It doesn’t look like anything medical. And she doesn’t seem to have any health concerns, she’s never taken these ones before.’ It started off as something she would take once a week, specifically on Saturdays, the same thing with Alcohol, but now she’s been doing it sporadically, whenever she wants, with no real care for anything else. Kei always watches her in fascination. She goes to sleep right after, stumbling through the halls of her apartment and into bed.

━━━━━━━━━♥━━━━━━━━━

February 14th, Valentine’s Day. Kei has now killed everyone in the human’s life, leaving the two of them alone. Just her and Kei. She doesn’t smile as she used to. She doesn’t laugh, or dance, or even go outside. Her nights became restless, constant nightmares waking her up at night and driving her further into depression. With all her friends and family, Co-workers and friendly people she met on the street gone from her life, she was alone. There was nothing for her now. The only thing she really does anymore is drink and cry, it’s a never-ending cycle that Kei is slowly starting to lose interest in. The emotional force bringing Kei towards this human is beginning to fade, disappear. ‘Why was that bond there before? Why not now? I have her to myself… yet I feel nothing.’

Kei watches his human closely as she ingests the mysterious tablets. One pill turns into two, two into four, and soon enough, there was none. ‘What happens now…?’ Kei ponders. He watches as the human dies, her beautiful soul leaving him behind. The scene before him reminds him of something, someone. Someone he loved, a lot, a long time ago. Years? Centuries ago? But when? A… past life…?

His… Past life… Past… Oh. ‘Thank you, human. I remember now…’ Kei remembers now… He remembers his past life.

‘Happy Valentine’s Day, My wife.’ Kei whispers to himself, the feeling of loneliness filling his heart.

‘I miss you…’

masterlist

cupid’s arrow masterlist

#Cupid's Arrow #tw death #tw yandere #tw killing #tw hell mention #tw drugs #tw overdose #tw suidice #tsukishima x reader #Kei tsukishima x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #kei x reader

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togetherwearerapture · 3 years

Text

Montage (Ethan x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Elle Valentine)

Description: After returning from the Amazon, some liquor and the sight of Elle with another man makes Ethan realise that the feelings he’s been running from, are deeper and more powerful than he had ever imagined.

Warnings: Angst, alcohol, jealousy, mentions of sex, predatory behaviour, violence and injury. All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Notes: I’m back from the depths with another piece of Ethan angst (what else?). This is set at the start of Book 2, after Ethan and MC’s first week of working together again. The Dr Thorne aspect is a bit of a rewrite of Chapter 1.

Word Count: 3.4K

***************

The thrum of the music vibrates in his chest like a wayward pacemaker, the scotch burning through his veins. Tonight, Donahue’s is lively and crowded. Ethan usually stays away from the place on evenings like these, but he can’t quite bring himself to just finish his damn drink and leave.

He can’t stop watching her.

She’s not even looking at him- she probably doesn’t even know he’s here, for Christ’s sake- but still, he can’t bring himself to pull his gaze away. This enigmatic magnetism of hers is what drew Ethan in from the beginning.

Even when she was a name without a face, on top of the most compelling Edenbrook application he’d ever seen. Even when, he recalls, the moment their eyes met over an unconscious patient on the waiting room floor, back on her first day.

Her fingertips were quaking around the scalpel like the last leaf of fall around its lonely branch. Ethan remembers placing his own hand atop hers to guide her. She was delicate, and afraid, but through the adrenaline and the urgency of the situation, he could still see something irrefutably strong in her eyes.

‘A spark’ to describe sexual chemistry is such a cliché, and Ethan hates clichés, but he knows that from that moment on the waiting room floor, it has always been there. He realises that at some point, that spark became a wildfire.

And right now, with the combined kindling of the alcohol in his blood and the sight of her in the arms of another man, it’s an inferno.

And how it rages in his core.

Bryce Lahela leans in close to say something in her ear, and Elle Valentine throws her head back and laughs. Ethan knows the bar is far too loud for the sound to travel to him, but somehow, he hears it. He watches the lovely cascade of blonde hair swinging side to side down her back, as she and Bryce sway together happily on the dancefloor. As Ethan watches the surgeon’s tanned hands encircling her tiny waist, he remembers how it felt to hold her there with his own.

And then, he feels it beginning to creep into the corners of his mind. It is far too familiar now, but he has never become comfortable with its presence. It being, the torturous highlight reel of their time together. All their stolen moments, in the quietness and in the loud. It’s the montage that he had unsuccessfully tried to switch off in the Amazon by throwing himself into a pandemic for two months. For the last five days since he’s been back at Edenbrook, he’s tried to drown out its presence with his work. And tonight, he had attempted to resist its nightly arrival with alcohol.

When will you learn?

The rational medic in Ethan knows that liquor never does the job when it comes to her. He feels the montage creeping closer, and acknowledges that, if anything, the drink in his hand is the poison oil that has slickened the floodgates open.

You’re a goddamn fool, Ramsey.

And then, it’s there on the threshold again. He lets it come.

He remembers how her small hands felt as they travelled across his skin, dwarfed by the wide planes of his shoulders and chest. He remembers the way they felt that very first time, slipping underneath his tuxedo; her fingertips ten white hot points on his skin in the cold Miami air. Never before had he been touched with such tenderness and delicacy. Elle’s soft hands snaking behind his head to stroke the hair at the back of his neck was a sensation that he had etched into his soul.

He remembers when he touched her again, the first time they made love in his apartment. The feel of being inside of her, and the look of pure ecstasy on her face when she climaxed beneath him, was something that Ethan had burned into his cortex forever.

Ethan suddenly jerks as an obnoxiously drunk surgical resident knocks his elbow, leaning over the bar to signal Reggie for a round of shots. Jaw clenching, Ethan is momentarily dragged out from his reverie to snap at the resident to watch what he’s fucking doing. Surprising even himself with his irritability tonight, he returns his gaze to her. And almost immediately wishes he hasn’t.

There is no denying that she’s an absolute bombshell. She’s very clearly the most attractive woman in the hospital- hell, the most attractive woman Ethan has ever seen- but he suddenly becomes painfully aware that he is not the only one to notice this. He’s seen Lahela with her before around the hospital, flirting with her, of course. There’s also the burly paramedic who looks at her like a lovelorn puppy. And in fact, most people who come within ten feet of Elle Valentine do a double take in her direction.

And that includes tonight, too. Almost as if seeing it for the first time, Ethan looks around at the dancefloor, his hand tightening around the glass as he sees several other men cast admiring glances in her direction. The nudging, the pointing, the smirking, makes his blood boil. He tries desperately not to imagine what they are muttering to each other as they do so.

He tries (and fails spectacularly) not to think if Elle had slept with anyone else while he’d been in Brazil. Had she been with Lahela? His grip on her waist as they continued to sway on the dancefloor, looked too comfortable to be platonic. He wonders if, in his absence, if Elle had drowned her sorrows in alcohol like he had. Had she sat at this bar? Had she thrown herself into the arms of another- one of her many willing admirers? Had she had one night stands? Had the paramedic taken her out for dinner? That seemed like something he would do, he seemed the romantic type.

You have no right to think about any of this, a part of him chastises him from the depths of his intoxication. She can do what she wants, she can fuck who she wants. You pushed her away, you let her go.

The memory of their conversation here a mere five nights ago grips him like a vice.

**********

“Ethan…why didn’t you keep in touch?”

Her voice is so small, but it manages to smash his heart like a sledgehammer.

“No word from you at all, for two months? After everything that happened between us?”

“Everything that happened between us is exactly why I didn’t contact you. Elle, if we’re going to work together on the diagnostics team, we need a fresh start. Your professional development is too importance to jeopardise it with whatever…whatever it was that we had.”

“Had, past tense.”

“Yes. And the past is where it has to remain.”

**********

Past, that’s fucking rich, Ramsey, he scorns himself. The ‘It’ had never been so painfully and agonisingly present.

And so much for a fresh start for the sake of the diagnostics team. Ethan thinks of the new, cutting-edge research paper on Huntington’s that he had planned to review this evening. He thinks of it sitting, untouched, on the countertop of his empty apartment. He thinks of how he’s sitting at a much stickier countertop instead, drowning his sorrows in a scotch glass instead of a stack of paperwork.

******

“Good dancing stamina, Valentine,” says Bryce with a devilish wink, as the latest song comes to an end. Elle chuckles as they finally pull away from each other.

She stands on her tiptoes to talk in his ear above the din of the bar, telling him to go and see what the others want for the next round, while she joins the queue for the bar. Bryce nods, and with a light pat on her waist, heads back outside.

It’s then that Elle finds herself alone at the bar, and also alone with her thoughts. The thoughts she’s been desperately trying to push aside. She tries to focus her attention on the new happy hour cocktail list above the bar, but the Mexican Butterfly and Blood Orange Sling fail to captivate her thoughts.

Unable to keep her mind from wandering to him, Elle finds that her eyes do too. She allows her gaze to roam to his favourite seat at the bar…

And with a sudden jolt, sees that the seat is taken by the very man himself, and the piercing blue eyes that she’s been dreaming of for months, are already fixed on her own.

Feeling her heart rate begin to rise, Elle briefly considers breaking the eye contact. But perhaps it is the fact they are both alone, with no distractions, no one else to question them, that she allows herself to indulge. The shared gaze feels intimate, powerful, and almost illicit to her. He doesn’t look away, his eyes full of longing. Elle feels somehow naked there, as if they are the only two people in the room and he is devouring her with his eyes alone. She takes in the khaki jacket, the beard that she had dropped a hint at him to keep (and it doesn’t escape her notice that he took it), the neat whisky in hand.

She feels a sudden heat between her legs, and god, by the way his lips part just a little at that very moment, she swears he can feel radiating from her.

A jacket-clad shoulder suddenly steps beside her at the bar, and the moment is broken. Hiding her fluster, Elle swallows and shoots Reggie an understanding smile as he says he’ll be with her as quick as he can.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all on your lonesome? I could fix that.”

Startled, Elle turns to see that the owner of the jacket-clad shoulder is the one making the grotesque advances. Dr Garrett Thorne, a plastic surgeon she recognises from Edenbrook, is leering over her.

“I’m not alone. And I’m not interested, sorry,” she says, turning pointedly away from him and back to the bar. Her fingernails drum anxiously on the counter. She hopes Reggie comes over soon.

“You know, I’m a plastic surgeon,” he drawls, completely undeterred. “Most of my female clients would kill to get a body like yours.”

He leans closer, and Elle shrinks into herself; the usual scenario when trying to get rid of unwanted male attention. In a safer setting, or if her friends were, Elle would love to put Thorne in his place. But he’s far bigger than her, and he’s clearly not the type of man who would take no for an answer. Instinctively, she cranes her neck back around to the other end of the bar, hoping to meet Ethan’s eye again in a plea for help. To her dismay, she sees that the stool is empty.

“I said, I’m not interested. I want you to leave me alone-” she says firmly.

“But I can tell yours is all real,” Thorne raises his voice to speak over her. Elle isn’t sure if it’s the reek of his overpriced cologne or his words that make her feel suffocated. “It’s the proportions, you see…the shape. You just can’t get that with cosmetic adjustment.”

“Will you fuck off, you creep?” she snaps, disgusted.

“And of course,” he sneers, with a twisted, veneered smile, “you can tell for certain, by the feel.”

Elle barely has time to flinch away as Thorne’s hand touches her backside. Then, a flash of green collides with the plastic surgeon with the force of a freight train.

“Don’t touch her, you son of a bitch!”

******

Ethan pins Thorne against the bar, forearm pressed to his throat. Donahue’s whirring disco lights continue to throw out every colour under the rainbow, but all Ethan sees is red.

“Get-off-me-Ramsey!” Thorne splutters, squirming under Ethan’s unwavering hold.

“She told you to leave her alone, and you just didn’t listen.” He towers over the surgeon, his voice low. “If you ever touch her again, I’ll break your fucking hands, and you won’t operate for a year.”

Through the red haze, Ethan realises Reggie has appeared at his side.

“Easy Ethan, I’ll take care of him. I won’t have any creeps in here.” He lays a hand on Ethan’s shoulder, and one of the other barmen appears. Reluctantly, Ethan releases his grip on Thorne, watching him slither pathetically against the counter, his overly polished shoes slipping on the hardwood floor.

As Reggie and the barman march Thorne outside, a voice breaks through the sea of red.

“Ethan?”

He turns to see Elle, shaken. Her lips were slightly parted, her breathing quick.

“Elle, are you alright?” he says quickly, his hands settling on her with a gentleness that was completely alien to him a few moments before. He looks her over. “Did he hurt you, did he-”

“I’m fine, Ethan,” she interrupts him gently. She places her small hands on his arms. “Are-are you?”

He meets her eyes, and for a split second, the fairy lights above the bar could be stars in the sky above their hotel balcony. The draft from the back door could be the breeze over the Miami sea.

Then the memory is gone. The world that has disappeared to him for some time, jolts violently back into existence. Ethan glances around. Everyone in close proximity is staring at him. There are whispers.

“Elle, what’s going on?”

Ethan looks up and sees Lahela wading through the crowd, his gaze settling on Ethan’s hands on the junior resident’s waist.

Hurriedly, he drops his arms to his sides.

“As long as you’re alright. I should-”

He trails off, acutely aware of the many pairs of eyes around the bar still fixed on him. The staring burns him like fire, and he can feel it prickling at the back of his neck.

His cover has been blown. Was that an appropriate intervention, for a man making unwanted advances towards a woman in a bar? Wouldn’t a “back off, Garrett”, or a yanking of his arm have been enough? Was it necessary for him to pin him against the bar in a chokehold? To threaten to break his hands? Would he have reacted like that had it been any other woman?

She’s not just any woman to you. You know it, she knows it, and now this whole goddamn bar knows it too.

“I should go.”

“Ethan, wait!”

But it’s too late. He turns on his heel and walks away, as she pleads him not to.

He is acutely aware it’s not for the first time.

Now he is on the move, he becomes aware of the depths of his intoxication. The bar spins a little, and he almost stumbles as he reaches under the bar to retrieve his car keys that he’d given to Reggie earlier in the night.

He strides out of the door into the night. He barely registers Reggie and the barman shoving a protesting Thorne into the nearest cab. He just keeps walking, and walking.

He crosses over the street to Edenbrook, heading for the car park. The rows of stationary cars blur and dance in front of his eyes, and he knows he’s stumbling.

When his own car finally swims into view, Ethan fumbles with his keys to unlock it, half-falling into the driver’s seat.

He shoves the keys into the ignition. He knows how wrong and dangerous this is, but there is that gnawing desperation to be in control. To not be garnered by rules, and humiliation, and professionalism. He craves so badly to do something wrong, to rebel, and most of all, to get away.

He decisively turns the key, and the engine springs to life. As he fumbles for the gearstick to shove the car in drive, his fingertips trace something small and smooth. He glances down.

There, in the gearstick well, is Elle’s coconut chapstick. A fossil of her presence in his life.

And then the montage is there again, invading his mind before he even knows it’s there.

All the car rides they shared together; after they found the frog for Dolores, after the opera, after staying late at the hospital to work on Naveen’s case, after he dropped her off at her apartment the morning after they first made love.

Her laughter ringing through the car at him shaking his head, after she decisively switched over the stereo to a pop station, after enduring several hours of sombre classical tunes. Her singing along, with that beautiful voice of hers, which was entirely lovely to Ethan despite him rolling his eyes.

Their last night together…

He had made a conscious choice to engrave the vision in his mind, memorise every detail.

He remembers brushing her sweet spots with his lips; the hollow of her collarbone and the inside of her thigh. The feel of her goosebumps erupting under his fingertips as he did so, and the delicious sigh that escaped her lips.

He remembers every look on her face; the spectrum of her warm gentle smile, to the expression of pure ecstasy on her face as she came in his arms. He remembers all of it, the sight burned in his retinas forever.

That final morning. Elle laying in his arms, watching her sleep. He remembers running his hands through her hair, relishing in its softness, a golden halo around the pillow. He remembers watching her stir, then turning to stare stoically at the ceiling as he felt a lump grow in his throat, knowing he could never hold her like that again.

He finds his hands picking up the chapstick, throwing the cap carelessly aside. Fingers shaking, he presses it to his lips, and closes his eyes. The memory of every one of their kisses is so vivid, it’s almost cruel.

His throat burns and he chokes out a sob. Defeated, he turns off the engine. It feels as though an iron fist is closing around his neck. His eyes snap open, and he desperately fumbles to roll down the side window for air.

His reflection in the wing mirror catches his eye, and he glances up. He is terrified by how broken he looks.

A grown man, in tears over a woman’s chapstick. You’re pathetic, Ramsey.

His fists blasts into the mirror, the burning in his knuckles incomparable to the inferno in his soul. He can feel the pain; physically feel it- in his chest, and it feels like it’s ripping him from the inside out.

He is shaking, heaving with sobs now, his head in his hands as he feels a hot trickle of blood travel down his arm. He wonders what it is inside him that makes him torture himself in this way. That makes him deprive himself of the only woman he’s ever loved, the one every fibre of his being screams for.

He swears he can almost feel the warmth of Elle’s hand resting atop his knee, almost hear her voice ring out in the empty car, speaking words she’d said many times before.

“I’m here, Ethan.”

“I know.”

But she is not. Not anymore. And for that, Ethan knows he only has himself to blame.

#ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #dr ethan ramsey #open heart #choices open heart

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s-n-a-k-e-p-i-t · 4 years

Text

Hermione Granger’s Guide to Shooting Your Shot || hermione x draco

A/N: This is for @weasleysflowr‘s writing challenge. I’ve never done one of these before, and to be honest I haven’t creatively written for myself in a really long time, but I’m slowly getting back into it and it’s making me feel so alive!! So I hope you guys enjoy

Notes: I’m not quite sure of the time of when this is taking place. I’m inclined to think 6th year or 7th because they are drinking and with that being said, I wrote this with the idea in mind that Voldy didn’t come back and Hogwarts is just vibing without the threat of him and there’s just the usual Slytherin/Gryffindor rivalry.

Warnings: Alcohol, fluff maybe the tiniest bit of steam

Prompt: “I might have had a few shots”

Hermione bit her lip and smiled and that was just the right amount to send him barreling over the edge. His control was surrendered, she essentially held his soul in the palm of her hand. However, she hadn’t the slightest idea of the power she held as she stood across the room doing shot after shot with her newly arrived friends. Dancing to the music slightly when the younger ginger walked over to give her a hug. Oh she had no idea, that in that moment he had accepted that he was hers entirely.

A scoff of a shoe next to him brought him out of his daze. The party was picking up and the fire whiskey was flowing, which luckily meant less people were asking why he was there. Not to mention the crowd was building, so it was much easier to blend despite the green tones only he and his companion adorned. However, this meant the temperature of The Three Broomsticks, with its smaller, more compact quarters and multiplied occupants didn’t stand a chance. He was happy he hadn’t worn a jacket, despite the December night he had to walk through to get there.

Her teeth released her bottom lip as her mouth pulled into a wide smile and it sucked him in all over again. A mop of blonde hair handed her a messy red and gold wrapped present and he couldn’t help smile at how she held the package. Like it was the most beautiful thing in the world, despite being the most hideous wrapping job he had ever seen. Lost in the beauty of her, he almost missed the jabbing elbow in his side.

“Earth to Draco.”

Blaise. Blaise had also been invited to the Golden Trio’s annual Christmas party. Why he even bothered to show, was beyond Draco’s imagination. In fact, he noted people, the Gryffindor majority in particular, actually seemed to be more surprised that his friend was present than himself.

“What,” he scowled, his eyes not daring the tear away from her.

“I’m gonna grab another drink, do you want anything. I’ve asked you at least five times.”

Draco looked down at the drink in his hand, he swirled it around and raised an eyebrow to his friend. Blaise turned on his heel and walked to the bar. Draco brought the glass to his lips, welcoming the bitter liquid in. Over the brim of the cup, he watched her as her eyes slowly wandered until they met his. Her skin, already flushed from the alcohol she had consumed, blushed even more and he reveled in the idea that he had such an effect on her. She whispered a word or two to the other thirds of her trio, hugged the blonde girl, and then broke away. She slowly sauntered towards him. Her step was off, he assumed due to the liquor.

“Malfoy,” she smiled her eyes darting around to see who else had noticed his presence, “I didn’t think you’d make it,” she nearly whispered. He picked up on the slight slur of her words.

“And why’s that?”

She shrugged and pouted. He licked his lips as he watched hers. “Project’s over, we don’t have an excuse to be seen together anymore.”

He clicked his tongue and nodded. His eyebrows jerked up in amusement. “You invited me, Granger, so I came.”

She giggled and covered her lips with her fingers. He stared at her, remembering only the start of the term when she had been thrown into a group with him and Blaise for an Astronomy project, much to all of their annoyance.

And then one week into working together when they had gotten into a screaming match over what month to complete the chart. He had quidditch tryouts and practices littered throughout the autumn, she had an immense amount of studying that only would build up the closer to Christmas they got. And they had gone back and forth, eventually getting personal, eventually getting in each others faces. And as he stared down at her and she stared up at him and their breath hit one another’s faces and both sets of eyes held their ground, neither to be betrayed or look away first, he had kissed her and as if something had finally snapped after six years of being sworn enemies and hell had frozen over, she kissed him back. And of course all of this has happened right when Blaise had returned from the bathroom, causing them to break apart, who told them he wouldn’t tell anyone as long as they did all the work so he could go off and do whatever it is Blaise Zabini does when he’s alone.

And then of course, they fought over who kissed who first, deciding to leave it at nothing more than a stressful time, a misunderstanding, and downright stupidity.

And then a month later, it happened again, only this time she initiated it. He had gotten an owl from his father, saying that his mother had been hit with an unidentified hex. And though Draco had practiced time and time again to not show his emotions, she still managed to break through and dig up what was wrong. And after that, the feeling of another person genuinely caring for him, who didn’t try to tell him how to feel or think or behave, he felt his mask slip away. And when she caught glimpse of the boy underneath the facade, she had kissed him, short, soft, and sweet.

And then mid October came around. And they’d finally picked a day to chart. And once they’d finished, those same fingers covering her giggle, had ended up tangled in his hair. He thought of the way her skin had glowed in the moonlight, the way she had looked at him, the way he had kissed her, the way she fearlessly kissed him back. And how they had done all their work that day, but told no one they were done just so they could keep seeing each other. They’d read, they’d talk, they’d spend the rest of the duration of the project period memorizing each other’s bodies and picking apart the other’s mind.

And then to three days ago when they handed in the project.

And then he remembered the way they had parted, high marks on the project and agreeing that what had happened was to be kept a secret. Her friends would give her hell and he was pretty positive his father would disown him. The solution was to keep it a secret. To glance, to pass a note or two, to meet in dark corners and under isolated trees.

And as he had laid in bed last night, he wondered if she was laying awake too, coming to find that this solution was not much of a solution at all.

He blinked, suddenly, and pulled himself back into the present, swaying slightly. His eyes bore into hers, unsure of what to say next, hoping his quick trip down memory lane hadn’t brought any unwanted attention their way. And she studied him as if she could see into the depths of his mind and knew exactly what he was thinking about. He felt... vulnerable and though he also felt the comfort of her she provided whenever nearby, he also felt.. nervous? He struggled to find his bearings and he struggled with not being in control. He hadn’t even realized she had slipped her hand into his, rubbing her thumb over his knuckles slowly bringing him back. He looked down, smiling at the sight of their hands together.

When he looked back up, she was biting her lip again.

He felt himself slip, the mask he wore around his schoolmates faltered. She caught it, he knew she would. But then she did something he didn’t predict. She cupped his face, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him gently. Smack dab on the mouth. In the middle of the bar. At the Gryffindor Christmas party.

She pulled away, hesitantly, nervous that he hadn’t been thinking what she had been thinking for the past 24 hours.

His eyes searched her face. He wasn’t complaining, he was just shocked. “Hermione, all of our stupid friends are her- I thought, but what about the plan to keep it secret?”

Her smile brightened at his use of her first name. “I might have had a few shots,” she giggled, standing up taller so her lips were hovering just below his. “And I also might have realized that solution was kind of dumb, I want to be able to celebrate Christmas with my boyfriend.”

A mistletoe appeared above them, causing them both to laugh. She smiled at him and he felt his smile reach his eyes. Softly, he reached out and tilted her chin up.

And despite the fact that practically everyone was looking at them in utter shock, despite the chorus of gasps, and despite the countless “is that Malfoy and Hermione?”s

Despite all that, when she kissed him this time, he kissed her back.

#weasleysflowr300wc #i sincerely hope this isnt garbage #dramione #dramione imagine #hogwarts au??#draco malfoy #hermione granger #i love dramione #writing challenge #this is my first go at one of these pls be nice to me #christmas dramione #emilywrites

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lilallama · 3 years

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(Sorry if I spell something wrongly lol) Idk, This is my opinion? Gryffindor, Jungkook. Hufflepuff, Taehyung & Yoongi. Ravenclaw, Namjoon & Jin. Slytherin, Jimin & Hobi??? I literally just searched the meaning of each house and just picked one based on the personality shown. Also, If you don't think this matches them, Sorry ;-;

[Don't worry, sweetie ^^. You don't have to apologise! 💕🍑]

Hoseok is a lot more two faced than I actually tend to show. The way he presents himself is mostly a mask. While he seems mostly calm on the outside, he's actually quite the opposite on the inside. Out of all the boys it'd be easiest for him to manipulate/influence Y/n (@bangtans-apollo Tae is quacking-) and he's aware of that. That's one of the reasons why they started the club 1. To protect Y/n, 2. The club concept came because it'd be easier to meet up and they would automatically get a clubroom and 3. Hoseok threatened to tell on them if they don't join, he'd make Y/n despise each one of them.

He is a strong leader (one of the Slytherin traits), I try to make him resourceful (but I am not myself so that might not shine through too much), he is definitely cunning. The whole ordeal with wanting to be with Y/n no matter what is pretty ambitious, I'd say. And lastly the traditionalism trait, he is very into tradition and has to keep his domestic fantasies with Y/n a secret. His parents raised him very traditional, he would hate it if (female) Y/n would ask him out first or would propose first and would at first frown upon his attention to (male or non binary) Y/n.

All in all Slytherin seems very accurate.

Now concerning Jimin; similar to Hoseok he too can be a two faced snake. He doesn't hide his true thoughts from Y/n or the boys, if anything he overshares sometimes (one time he started talking to Taehyung about some... rather inappropriate things concerning Y/n. That got his Y/n privilege taken away for a whole month). And despite practically pleading to be the "dumb bimbo" stereotype, he is surprisingly clever and intelligent. Before Highschool, before he made his first experiences with popular boys, he was a straight A's and B's student. Yet once he had his first boyfriend, he discovered that the people surrounding him typically preferred the dumb blondes. (He actually broke up with the captain of the football team for Y/n.)

He also sometimes displays ambitious, just in a whiney sort of way. Self preservation is definitely something. Unlike Taehyung, Yoongi, Namjoon or Jeongguk, he wouldn't let himself be killed for Y/n's sake. If Y/n were to be killed he would end up deluding himself into thinking a person who looks similar to them is them and would force Y/n's personality and style on them. Cunningness is 100% accurate. He's fake. He pretends to be a silly sweetheart who loves everyone but will spread rumours about you, blame things on you etc. and everyone believes him. His cunningness concerning Y/n is more whiney than anything.

So I do think Jimin fits Slytherin.

Namjoon was raised by strict parents who forbade him a tremendous amount of things and painted his world for him. It was engraved in his head, he was going to be the CEO of their company one day. Yet despite everything he still had a head of his own. Maye it was because if his high IQ that he understood that his parents weren't the only opinion in his life. Don't get me wrong, they still left him scarred (sadly literally, as his father once hit him bloody) and traumatised but not without a mind of his own. Ever since he was small creativity and originality was something he admired and loved. It was partly reason of why he fell for Y/n, their individuality, their mind, their heart, their soul.

We will not need to discuss intelligence, it's a trait he undoubtedly has. He is always willing to learn and showed interest in many different things before Y/n captured his focus. He is most likely one of the wisest members as he is aware of how twisted his love for them truly is (once again something I tend to fail at portraying) and tried to stop it when it started. But somehow that only made everything worse and by now he doesn't care anymore at all. When he was a child he used to be more openly curious than nowadays (as it caused him many punishments from his parents).

I feel that Namjoon would fit Ravenclaw.

Seokjin was spoiled all his life. His parents adored him, other kids adored him, everyone adored him. While he might've acted oblivious he knew that it's because of his money. Similar to Jimin, Seokjin changed when he entered high school. While he always was a pretty intelligent and well behaved student (still very arrogant though) he then became less concerned with studies and once made a teacher cry (that was before he met Y/n). He loves standing out as an individual, that includes making anyone change who crosses his path with the same outfit (not in school as they wear a school uniform. But outside, yes, he has that much power. Everyone knows Kim Seokjin).

As said before, Seokjin is far from stupid. He is a very intelligent individual but doesn't show the extent of his nolage. Instead aiming for a cool "Queen B" persona. He is witty with his comebacks (something I cannot write because I do not possess that superpower), he's quick with his words. He holds respect for people who are 60+ years old as he believes they've been through a lot in life already. These people have wisdom he could only gain by experience and that he respects (there is one very sweet lady that lives alone in a very big mansion a few streets away from his penthouse. He always visits her because he loves her genuine kindness. When he met Y/n she recently passed away and he saw a part of her in them).

Seokjin could qualify for a Ravenclaw.

Taehyung was raised by a very Christian family that he still cherishes very much. Because of their intense belief he was raised to worship. He never fell in love, so when Y/n crossed paths with his, he started showing love how he's used to it (Out of all the boys Taehyung is straight up insane. Something in his brain might be wired wrong, there is no explanation on why he likes them, on why he believed that's what love is because his parents treated him with normal, familiar love. So he is simply sick, there is no "saving" him. He's better of in a mental hospital). But he was always a very kind boy. Giving instead of taking, never wanting anything in return. Out of everyone, Taehyung was the one who welcomed new students and made tons of friends. But he grew out of it as his focus turned to art. He aimed to make his parents proud so he didn't have time for friends.

His loyalty is unlike any other. You could torture him half dead and he'd still forgive you, stay loyal to you, serve you. He is Y/n's servant. He works hard on improving his artistic abilities and also to maintain fairly good grades. For Y/n any labour he'd have to be put through would seem like a blessing. Another trait for Hufflepuff would be fairness and he surely is fair. As one of the least jealous members of the club he really only cares if Y/n's okay with what's happening or could get hurt (he always kets the other members have more privileges than he has because he believes it'd be not only greedy but prideful to want Y/n to hinself. He avoids any sin when it comes to Y/n, envy, wrath, pride, sloth, nothing will ever come near his modern day Jesus).

Taehyung definitely is a Hufflepuff.

If the boy who works two parttime jobs, to pay for rent, bills and food, cleans the shabby apartment by himself because his alcoholic mother is busy messing it up again, yet still treats his mother with kindness, only to be treated like trash by seven more powerful and successful guys in his school who all like the same person he does and still manages to maintain the position as intern and honour roll student at a prestigious school for roch people, isn't in Hufflepuff then I don't know what. This poor soul is incredibly sensitive and kind. He isn't judgemental (as he himself is used to people judging him). All round very sweet.

I think it's very clear that he's very diligent and hard working. He holds great passion for music and enjoys writing poetry, a very sensitive soul. Yoongi isn't someone to complain about something being unfair (cough cough Jimin cough cough) or try and steal Y/n away from them. His day dreams consist of imagining Y/n liking him back, but he is certain that would never happen (according to you guys, it seems a lot of you would pick Yoongi if you'd get to decide). Not only is Yoongi kind but loyal as well, he'd never imagine leaving anyone behind even his useless mother.

Yoongi is 1000% a Hufflepuff.

Jeongguk tends to be hot tempered, he goes from zero to a hundred in a matter of seconds. Everything in life seems like a challenge to prove he's better than others think (his father was a notorious serial killer who killed twenty one people yet got away with a ten year prison sentence and got released after six, ten months later Jeongguk was born). In truth he did not care for anyone else, only Y/n. So all tge chivalry he could muster was directed at them.

He is one brave guy who doesn't get easily scared (I guess living with as well as being a serial killer at sixteen years old desensitised him). Jeongguk is courageous just not in/for a positive way/purpose. He deluted himself into thinking that Y/n needs protection, HIS protection. He once attacked a teacher because they were helping Y/n with a question, that's very daring (more like stupid) just not in a good way. A (still not) more positive example of his daringness is when he wants to impress Y/n. He hung from a skyscraper for five minutes doing pullups, just to inpress them. One time he also jumped across his luxurious pool at home (and almost slipped, almost bashing his head in) just to prove that he can jump further than someone they talked about.

I could very much picture him as a Griffendor.

If you enjoyed reading my work, please consider reblogging it. Thank you for reading

#yandere bts #cooking club #hogwarts au #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon #yandere hoseok #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #harry potter au

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photorose11 · 4 years

Text

Just Friends

I am actually proud of myself for writing another prompt, two days in a row. lol I am actually surprised I am posting this, I had a terrible day. The kind where you get home from work and want to bawl. It hasn’t been easy lately. But writing makes me happy and I was excited to share this. So, here is day ten of Ichiruki month. :)

Disclaimer: I don’t own Bleach, bleh.

_______

“You’re staring, Rukia.”

The raven haired Shinigami looked over from her spot on the sofa to look at Rangiku Matsumoto who had a certain look in her eyes that Rukia simply could not ignore.

“I am not.” Rukia muttered, taking another sip of her drink, making sure to keep her eyes away from Ichigo this time. She heard her friend give a laugh beside her, Rukia looked over to see Rangiku bring her saki bottle to her lips with a grin on her face. Rukia couldn’t help but roll her eyes. What would the 10th Lieutenant know anyway with how intoxicated she was becoming.

Rukia looked around the room, spotting Ishida and Orihime in the corner of the living room discussing something. Orihime was waving her hands around dramatically, obviously telling Ishida something very exciting. Probably another cooking idea she had come up with. Rukia grinned at the look on the Quincy’s face, he seemed perfectly happy with listening to her.

Next Rukia saw Karin, Yuzu and Tōshirō sitting at the kitchen table. Karin showing Tōshirō how to play a certain card game which he was losing at, if the frown on his face was any indication. Isshin was behind Tōshirō, telling him something probably regarding the game.

Rukia’s gaze went back to Ichigo who was standing inside the entryway of the kitchen, surrounded by Chad, Keigo, Tatsuki and Mizuiro. Rukia assumed they were probably talking about what colleges they would be attending in a few months.

Rukia had not been surprised when Isshin had decided to throw Ichigo a graduation party, although she was a little surprised he was allowing them to drink alcohol. When she questioned him about it before the party, all he had said was that after everything his son and his friends had been through over the years, they were now grown adults.

‘They deserve to relax a little bit, after everything that’s happened. ‘

Rukia could not help but agree with him. As far as she could tell, Ichigo had grown very much in the last few years since she had met him. The last year had been especially hard on him, the Quincy War had taken a toll on all of them but him more then anyone else she knew.

He had stayed in Soul Society the first month after the war, recovering. When he had returned home, Rukia went with him and stayed for a week before returning back to Soul Society. He returned back to school to finish his last year of High School, while Rukia helped rebuild her Division and the Seireitei.

“You should tell him, you know.”

Rukia blinked, breaking out of her daze to turn and look at Rangiku who was smirking at her. Rukia took another sip of her drink before replying to her friend.

“Tell him what?”

Rangiku put an arm around Rukia’s shoulders, practically squishing her to her chest. Rukia scowled, trying to pull away before snatching the saki bottle of out her friends hands. Rangiku watched in amusement as Rukia re filled her cup, before leaning forward and whispered into Rukia’s ear.

“That you loooove him.”

If Rangiku had not grabbed the saki bottle back, Rukia would have dropped it on the floor. She was thankful in that moment but also completely flabbergasted at her friends words. She recovered quickly, taking a large gulp of her drink before settling back into the sofa.

“You’re delusional, Rangiku.”

“You’re in denial, Rukia.”

Said raven haired Shinigami was getting very sick of rolling her eyes. Did her friend even know what she was saying?

“Come on, Rukia. In a few months he will be going off to college. You may not get to see him as often anymore, and I really think now is the best time to tell him.”

Rukia scowled at her friends words. She hated that Rangiku was right. But she knew that she could not tell Ichigo. It wouldn’t be fair to him, or to her. They were from two completely different worlds. She refused to hold him back from living his life. She loved him to much to do that to him.

“We’re just friends.” Rukia said softly, sipping at her drink again. Rangiku looked over, seeing the sad look in Rukia’s eyes. Laying a hand of Rukia’s shoulder, she spoke.

“But you want to be more, and I can bet you he does too. Do you even notice the way he looks at you?”

Rukia gave her friend a questioning look before shaking her head in reply. Rangiku only smiled softly at her before looking towards where Ichigo was. A grin overcame her face.

“Well he’s giving you that look right now.”

Rukia wasn’t sure why, but Rangiku’s words made a chill run down her spine. She could feel Ichigo looking at her, she desperately wanted to know what look Rangiku was talking about.

Before Rukia could think further about it, she stood up before finishing the rest of her drink and handing the now empty cup to Rangiku. Said friend lifted an eyebrow at her in question.

“I’m going to the bathroom.”

With that she walked to the stairs, making her way up the steps; the whole time feeling Ichigo’s gaze still set on her until she vanished out of his view.

—-

By the time Rukia made it to the bathroom, and splashed some cold water on her face; she realized she may have drank a little to much saki. This was the first time drinking in her Gigai and after almost tripping when she entered the bathroom she realized with horror that compared to drinking in Soul Society, her Gigai was making her a lightweight. She was grateful she at least wasn’t seeing double.

As she stood in front of the bathroom sink, she gripped the counter; thinking over what Rangiku had said. Rangiku had first confronted her about Ichigo as soon as she had made it back to Soul Society after he had returned back home. Rukia had ignored all her questions, only saying the one thing she had told her downstairs.

‘We’re just friends.’

The more Rukia thought about it, the more it felt like a lie. Rukia had felt a change in her relationship with Ichigo as soon as the war had ended. As she had watched him recover the first few weeks after, she had been terrified for him. She had hurt for him. Her soul had been in turmoil with feelings that were confusing at the time and still were.

When he had first woken up after the war, she had been right there beside him. They were both shocked when she cried, as soon as he had said her name after opening his eyes for the first time since the war had ended. To her surprise, he had cried too.

It was a defining moment in their relationship. One Rukia had not stopped thinking about since it had happened. Ever since then there had been a gradually slow shift in their relationship. They still bickered, they still got annoyed with one another; but being around him now felt different. It felt more intimate, more meaningful.

Looking in the mirror, she wondered if he felt it too. Giving a sigh, she ran her fingers through her hair before smoothing down her dress. She gave another sigh, feeling extremely conflicted with what to do. It was frustrating her. Considering she was drunk, her frustration was heightened.

It made her want to scream.

Cursing under her breath, she quickly opened the bathroom door; and gave a sudden yelp when she ran into something. She blinked, noticing a chest in front of her. Realizing she had ran into someone she looked up and met eyes with none other then Ichigo.

Rukia really wanted to scream in frustration.

‘Of course this would happen.’ She thought inwardly, trying to stop the blush she felt forming on her cheeks.

Ichigo looked down at her, his face flushed; probably from the saki.

“Hey. I was just checking on you, you’ve been in there awhile.”

His voice came out husky, much to Rukia’s dread.

‘Why must he sound like that when I’m intoxicated and conflicted?’

Rukia cleared her throat, fidgeting with her hands before looking back up at Ichigo, giving him a grateful smile.

“I’m okay. Just a little dizzy, I think I may have had to much Saki.” She said somewhat in embarrassment. He gave her an incredulous look before grinning down at her.

“Even with how tiny you are I never pictured Rukia Kuchiki as a lightweight.” He said in a teasing tone. Rukia’s blush deepened, as she rolled her eyes before looking off to the side.

“I’m usually not. I think it’s this damn Gigai.” She muttered in annoyance, becoming even more annoyed when Ichigo threw his head back and laughed. Scowling at him, she reached out and poked him hard in the stomach yet it did not faze him.

“I guess we can be lightweights together then. I struggled just making it up the stairs.” He said in clear embarrassment as he rubbed the back of his neck, refusing to meet her eyes. Rukia could only smile at that.

It became silent then, as they stood in the doorway to the bathroom. Rukia could feel the tension in the air growing, and her heart skipped a beat when he reached out one of his hands to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. His hand slowly moving down her arm, to take her hand in his. Rukia realized then that he must be drunk if he’s being this touchy. Ichigo Kurosaki was never touchy.

“I have something to give you.” He said with a smile on his face, as he led her to his bedroom. She followed,her hand still in his. Once in his bedroom, he led her to his bed, motioning for her to sit. He let go of her hand, moving to his desk to open a drawer and pulled out a small box. He sat next to her on the bed, hesitating at first before telling her to lay her hands out palm upwards. She did as he asked, and he laid the small box in her hands.

Rukia looked at it, it was a simple black box. Rukia’s curiosity rose when she glanced over at Ichigo, seeing his face slightly red. He rolled his eyes, as she looked back down at it.

“Open it, Midget.”

Rukia couldn’t help but notice the smile in his voice but also something else. Nervousness?

She opened the box, and saw a key inside attached to a key ring. Also attached to it was a small Chappy keychain which Rukia instantly found adorable. She set the box down beside her on the bed, pulling the key ring out as she held it in her hands.

“What is this for?” She asked softly. The room was silent as she turned her head to look at Ichigo, another chill running down her spine as her violent eyes met his. There was something intense about the way he was looking at her.

‘Is this the look Rangiku had been talking about?’

“It’s a spare key to my dorm room at the University. I’m moving into a newer building, I’ll be the first person to be living in that room so they already sent me a key for it. I wanted you to have one so I made a copy for you.” He said softly as he stared back at her.

Rukia blinked, feeling her throat tighten at his words. It was something so simple, yet it made her want to cry. It was such a sweet gesture for him to do for her. She broke her gaze from his, running her finger over the key before admiring the Chappy key chain.

“I know you have your own life in Soul Society and I know you’ve been really busy since the war ended. I know.. that I won’t get to see you as often anymore once I leave for college but I want you to know you’re always welcome to visit me; when you have the time. Even if you just need to get away from Soul Society for a bit and to take a break, I want you to know that you’re always welcome.”

After his somewhat long explanation, Rukia couldn’t stop the smile that was tugging at her lips nor could she stop the tears from forming in her eyes. Even if she had not been drunk, this would still make her want to cry. Rukia’s heart felt full. Running her fingers over the key and Chappy key chain again, Rukia knew what she wanted.

It wasn’t just ‘being friends’ with him.

The realization made her heart race and more tears gather in her eyes.

Ichigo leaned down, trying to see her face. He saw a smile, but was nervous with how silent she was being. It was very unlike Rukia.

“Ichigo... this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me.” Rukia whispered through her tears, before looking up at him. His eyes widened when he saw the tears in her eyes.

“Hey, why are you crying? Don’t cry.” He said concerned, reaching a hand out to wipe her tears away.

“I can’t help it, fool.” She whispered, as she smiled up at him. His hand stilled on her cheek as he gazed down at her.

“Why would you do this for me?” She asked him gently, breaking their gaze to look back down at the key ring in her hand.

“What do you mean why? You’re my best friend.” He said it in a way that made Rukia realize he was definitely nervous. Ichigo was not the kind of person to randomly do things such as this for someone. So why her?

She looked back up at him to see him rubbing his neck nervously, looking away from her. He still had his hand on her cheek, until she gently laid a hand over his and put it down to rest between them. She kept her hand in his. Wrapping her other hand around the key chain, she stared at their intertwined hands as Ichigo did the same. The tension was back, this time much stronger. She was sure he noticed it too.

“Thank you so much, Ichigo. This means so much to me.” Her words came out so softly, Ichigo couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows at the tone in her voice. She sounded happy, but also a little but sad.

Before he could reply back, Rukia stood up suddenly; her hand leaving his. He watched her walk over to the closet, laying a hand over the closet door before turning around and giving him a coy smile.

“Will I still have my own comfy closet to sleep in?” He rolled his eyes, a smile on his face.

“You can have the closet, midget.”

Rukia smiled wide at his answer, watching as he stood up and stretched; walking over to her.

“Can I decorate your dorm room with Chappy?” She asked excitedly. He gave her a deadpanned expression, but couldn’t help but grin at her facial expression. She was particularly adorable when she became excited, definitely when it was over Chappy the rabbit.

“Three Chappy items, tops.” He said, pointing a finger at her. She gave a small laugh, before taking a step closer to him. He silently watched her movements, as she gently took his hand in hers again.

“I’m really proud of you.”

“Rukia..”

The room became silent again, as he stared down at her. Her head was bowed, only a few inches away from his chest. He really wanted to bring her closer. To hold her.

He did not want her to leave back to Soul Society.

Before he could move, Rukia lifted her head up; smiling softly at him. The tears were back in her eyes, it made his chest hurt.

“We should head back downstairs before anyone starts looking for us.” She said gently, before letting go of his hand and turning towards the bedroom door. He watched her turn away from him, and he knew.

He couldn’t let her walk away.

Not with things like this.

She was his best friend, but Ichigo wondered if she suspected how much he truly did care for her. How much he loved her. How much he didn’t want to ever let her go.

It happened in slow motion for Ichigo.

Putting caution to the wind, he reached his hand back out to grab hers, twirling her around. His other hand went to the side of her face as he leaned down and kissed her, before she could say a word.

To his surprise, it wasn’t awkward. Even though it was his first kiss. He felt her grip his hand tight as she deepened the kiss, her hand still holding onto the key ring went to his chest but she did not push away. Her fingers curled around his shirt, bringing him closer.

A moment later, she slowly broke the kiss and took in a deep breath before opening her violet eyes to look up into his. She gaped at him, trying to form words.

“What-“

“You are my best friend, Rukia. But you’re more then that. You’re so much more then just a friend.”

They stared at one another for a long moment before a smile appeared on Rukia’s face, as her grip on the front of his shirt tightened.

“I know.”

It was only two words, but he understood. He smirked as she leaned up to kiss him, as his arm wrapped around her waist; bringing her closer to him. To his amusement he was almost lifting her off of her feet, as her hand left his; her arm wrapping around his neck.

He did not want to ever let her go.

—-

It had been twenty minutes since Ichigo had gone upstairs to check on Rukia, and Rangiku was beyond curious at what was taking him so long. She gave a smirk at the suspicion she had in her head, before moving to the stairs; saki bottle still in hand. No one noticed her move up the stairs, everyone to entertained by Karin beating Tōshirō against the card game.

Once up the stairs, she slowly walked to Ichigo’s bedroom seeing the light on. She couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she made it to the doorway, peaking her head in slowly to find her two friends very close, much to close...

Her eyes widened as she slapped a hand over her mouth upon witnessing Ichigo move Rukia against the closet door. Before she could comprehend what she was witnessing, she quickly reached for the door handle and silently closed the bedroom door.

This was certainly private.

The Lieutenant could barely hold in her laughter once the door was closed, before turning away and walking down the hallway; a grin on her face.

‘Just friends, huh Rukia?’

Once walking down the stairs, she couldn’t hold in her laughter anymore.

She was rather excited to have a certain conversation with Rukia tomorrow, that entailed her asking Rukia again if her and Ichigo were really ‘just friends’.

#ichiruki #ichiruki month 2020 #ichiruki month2020 #ichiruki month day ten #irmonth2020 #irmonth 2020 day ten #ichiruki fanfiction #ichiruki fanfic #ichigo kurosaki #ichigo x rukia #rukia kuchiki #just friends #ichiruki shipper #ichiruki love #ichiruki fandom #bleach #bleach fanfiction #pro ichiruki

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fullsunalicia · 4 years

Note

hiii if its not a bother,,,,how about writing a wolf!au with jaemin or jeno finding their very human mate who has absolutely no idea of the supernatural world but has a tendency of finding trouble?? if its not too much can you put in a lil werewolf action hehe thank ü

lovers of the moon — LJN

every wolf is destined to find a mate someday. when jeno meets you, he feels like the luckiest man alive, but little does he know that he‘s going to lose his mind over protecting you - after all, you are the definition of the word „trouble“..

werewolf!jeno x human!reader

hey love! it‘s absolutely not a bother, thank you so much for requesting! i hope you enjoy <3

Jeno has been dreaming of his mate since forever.

There are werewolves who are bitten, and there are those who are born with it. Whether it’s a blessing or not, Jeno was born into a family bearing the moon’s magic, and all his life, he‘s been growing up with the stories of the supernatural world. The myths, the legends, the histories. That includes the stories of the mates, the other half of a wolf’s being. He learnt about them at the tender age of twelve, barely a teenager, the age where he had first turned into an animal and was able to change back. Since then, there hasn‘t been a day where he‘s not thinking about you.

Are you a wolf, too? A witch, maybe? Or perhaps you‘re just a mere human, who‘s going to be lured into his world because of the pull a mate experiences. Plenty of mates are found in the mortal world, chained to a normal life, the lulled sense of security. Nonetheless, because of the ties they have to a wolf’s soul, they’re bound to be drawn to the supernaturaly way. Maybe you’ll find him first. It doesn‘t matter who or what you are. When Jeno meets you, he‘s going to love you forever.

His pack often teases him for being so whipped for his mate, even though he doesn‘t know them yet. It‘s just that the idea of someone being destined for you makes his heart feel so warm; The knowledge that no matter what happens, you‘ll love him. No matter what problem, you‘ll work through it. Of course there is a chance that you‘d reject him, but he‘s accepted that possibility.

As long as you‘re happy, he‘s content, aswell. He just wants to meet you. To get to know the other half of his soul. He‘s been waiting for so long.

His patience is soon to be rewarded.

❀ ❀ ❀

Jeno hates not being able to get drunk as quickly as others. What else is he downing these drinks for?

Jaemin‘s already pretty wasted. That’s no wonder, really. Convincing the boy to a round of shots is as easy as breathing, and he’s downed them all way before you can even get a headstart. Apparently, it’s the only thing that makes Jaemin human, even though Jeno begs to differ. After all, his best friend is a good person through and through, kind, selfless. Is that not humanity itself? Either way, Jaemin‘s the only one in the pack who doesn‘t take much to be intoxicated, and at the end of the night, someone has to take him to a bathroom before he throws up and tuck him into bed afterwards. Jeno would rather not do that tonight, but it looks like he‘ll have to.

„Nana,“ he sighs, reaching for his best friend. Jaemin giggles, wrapping both arms around Jeno‘s waist to hold him close. If there’s one word to describe Na Jaemin, it’s clingy. It’s his second nature to embrace others and leave kisses all over their face, because he lives for affection. In moments like these, Jaemin tends to forget himself, and his supernatural strength ends up seeping through. If he holds Jeno any tighter, he‘s definitely going to break a rib. „Nana, let‘s slow down a little, yeah? Also, watch the grip, man.“

„Aww, but I just want to hug you!“ Jaemin‘s voice is so loud, it seems to boom over the music that‘s playing in the living room. He hums in content when Jeno fixes his hair, recently dyed blue, and even beams at him. Drunk Nana is a way too happy Nana.

The party is in full swing. There‘s a lot of people Jeno recognizes, but also some he‘s never seen before. Donghyuck keeps inviting too much people, and yet he whines when he has to clean up the mess in the morning.

He’s known Jaemin all his life. Like him, Jaemin was born to be a wolf, a child of the wilderness, lover of the moon. Though he looks soft, he’s one of the strongest in the pack, if not on the same level as Jeno. They quarrel often, but never seriously, only as jokes. They love each other, they’re brothers. Every corner of his soul, his being, Jaemin knows it, learned all the flaws by heart. Habits of the other are often picked up, later to be laughed about as they catch themselves doing it. Friends for life. Packmates forever.

There’s no one in this world Jeno trusts more than Na Jaemin.

With that, Jeno helps himself to another glass of whiskey, though that task proves to be rather difficult when Jaemin clings to him like a toddler. The younger man nuzzles his face in the crook of Jeno‘s neck, weight heavy on his side, grip still as tight as chains. Jeno feels weirdly reminded of his first full moon, where he had to be contained in the basement so he wouldn‘t break free and murder some innocent person. It’s normal. Control has to be acquired, even if you’re not a turned wolf. But it still shouldn’t be so hard for him. He cringes, but it‘s not the taste of the drink sloshing against his glass.

„I hate strong alcohol, too.“

Jeno looks up - and freezes. Something inside him snaps, reties itself to your existence, like Jeno hasn‘t been living until this point and he‘s finally found his reason to do so. It‘s you. His precious, beautiful mate. The wolf in him is practically roaring at him to toss Jaemin aside and smother you with a hug like his packmate is doing to him.

The moon knows what she did when she connected him to you. You’re perfect.

Jeno‘s barely able to hold himself back. When he breathes in deeply, he‘s overwhelmed with your scent; Flowers, the stench of perfume. Your natural fragrance. He starts trembling in Jaemin‘s hold. Suddenly, it‘s not a hug, but rather his friend holding him back in the realization that his mate is standing in their shared kitchen, smiling so beautifully you‘re going to knock the air out of Jeno‘s lungs.

„Oh, he doesn‘t hate it,“ Jaemin helps him out. A painful pinch to his waist tries to pull Jeno back to reality, but he‘s still reeling over the fact that you‘re actually here. That an angel stepped into his house and you‘re actually talking to him. „He doesn‘t like it when I cling to him, but that‘s what friends are for, right? I just want some affection.“

You giggle, and both of the boys are in awe at the sound. You‘re so cute. „I get that,“ you admit and set down your cup. The way you carry yourself, pupils slightly widening - you‘re a little buzzed. Jeno thinks he‘s going to be drunk of you, too. „Is a group hug appropiate? I could use some affection too.“

„Get over here, then,“ Jeno says. He didn‘t mean to sound so assertive, and Jaemin, sweet Jaemin who never glares, gives him the evil side eye. Jeno just can‘t help himself. He craves you closer - he wants to pull you away from the party and tell you about the many years he spent waiting for you.

But you‘re only human. That means you don‘t know anything about his world. He‘d have to guide you into hit before he makes you his.

Despite him talking so rudely, you approach both boys with a grin. But you stumble, tripping over the high heels you’re wearing as you fall right into Jeno’s chest. “Whoops,” you murmur. When you wrap your arms around both of them, he almost sighs in relief. Arms move to hold you close, shielding you from the world forever. You fit inside them perfectly, like the last piece of a puzzle clicking into place. The stench of sparkling wine is clinging to your clothes. „I needed that,“ you mumble into Jeno’s chest.

The elders talk about magic. The universe’s way of shoving you towards your mate, two magnets who are pulled to each other. Irreversible, eternal. Once a match is made by the moon, it is never able to be broken or severed. No matter how, the life of a mate and their wolf is connected forever the second they meet. That’s why the need to be with them is so strong, so powerful.

Jeno knows all that, but he wasn’t aware the pull was that powerful. All it took was look into your eyes, and Jeno was a goner. In your eyes, he finds galaxies, untold stories, promises. Every fold of your soul, any thought you’ve ever created but is left unspoken, everything shows itself the second you meet his gaze. You smile again. His knees buckle.

“Alright, Jen,” Jaemin says, pulling him out his trance. As if he was drowning in you, and now he’s brought ashore. “I think we’re going to lay off of the alcohol for the rest of the evening, yeah? You just stay here and I’ll get you some water... Be back in a second.”

Only when Jaemin leaves you two behind, you lean back. Jeno’s able to look into your eyes now, and your pupils are dilated from the alcohol you’ve had. “Better now?” you ask.

For a second, he’s dumbfounded. Then, he quickly comes to his sense. “Uh, yeah, thanks,” he mumbles, hands still on your lower back. He’s just waiting for you to push him away, because he’s physically unable to do it himself.

But you don’t. Your arms are firmly curled around his neck, and you’re giggling in his hold. Maybe it’s the pull working its’ magic right now, but Jeno’s willing to thank anything and anyone for what’s happening right now.

You’re even better than his dreams. Finally, you have found his way into your life.

“Maybe I should stop drinking.” Your voice tugs at his heartstrings. Yawning, you lay your head on his chest, seemingly unbothered that you both just met. “I didn’t even want to go all out. But my day just sucked...alcohol’s really good in moments like these. Do you drink a lot?”

“No.” Jeno rests his cheek against your head. You’re warm, able to heat him up way better than any drink he’s had until now. He wonders what you’ve been up to. What you’d like to become someday. If he can help you. None of that comes out of his mouth, instead he asks you: “What happened today for you to drink so much? If it’s alright that I’m asking.”

“Failed a test,” you mumble, lips brushing past the column of his neck. Jeno almost groans in relief. If this continues you, he’ll very well just turn into a wolf infront of you because he isn’t able to hold himself back right now. His self-control sucks anyways. You testing it doesn’t help a lot. “Ex bothered me.”

“Want me to beat them up?”

You giggle. Fingers move to mess with his hair, and he closes his eyes when you curl the strands around your appendage. “No, it’s not worth you getting hurt because of it.” Now, you step back. Your hands hold his for a few seconds before you completely let go. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cling you. I’m (y/n). I promise I’m more polite sober.”

“It’s okay. I’m Jeno,” he introduces himself. “May I have your number, (y/n)? The next time your ex bothers you, I’ll chase him away.”

❀ ❀ ❀

You’re a double-texter. Jeno enjoys that a lot.

It’s easy to talk to you. You share the same humor, despite his friends claiming that he’s not funny at all. Many memes are sent back and forth, but the conversation never consists solely of your jokes. From time to time, you tell him about yourself and show your interest in him. Your dreams, your hopes, your interests. In turn, Jeno tells you all about his friends. What he wants to become someday. He also makes sure that you know he’s always there for you.

That’s how Jeno ends up picking you up in the middle of the night to grab some food from McDonald’s and get your mind off things.

Your hand feels so small in his. Curled towards him in the passenger seat, you trace the veins on the back of his hand with your fingertips, lost in your thoughts. He wants to know what’s going on inside your pretty head. But he doesn’t overstep his boundaries, and lets you take your own time to explain what’s bothering you.

Growing up with Jaemin had taught him patience. Jeno knows when to wait, and how to go about it. As a werewolf, that’s the most important thing to learn. It helps with control, to hold back the fury of turning, the magic of a full-moon. This should be a piece of cake.

Atleast it feels like it when you curl into his arm like a cat would. He hears your heart pounding, loud and clear. Impossible for a human, but a constant thing for him. Your pulse is his favorite melody. Jeno hums while he drives into the parking lot as you rest your cheek on his arm and sigh.

Sometimes, Jeno thinks you don’t feel the pull. When you get lost in your thoughts and forget about the world around you, Jeno is never the one to bring you back. You just snap out of it and calm him down with a smile, and it makes feel him unsure. Whether he’s allowed to do it. If you feel comfortable. If you didn’t, it’d explain the pull failing to draw you in. But then you pull stunts like this, and he has to restrain the wolf inside himself from jumping you and kissing you until your lips are swollen.

He turns the key, killing the engine as darkness starts to loom over you both. You haven’t moved. Tightly holding his hand in your own two, Jeno watches as you bury your face in his arm.

His free hand moves on instinct to tousle your hair. As always, your hair is soft, and he can smell the synthetic scent of peach and vanilla. Weirdly, he likes that scent just as much as your own fragrance. It’s a part of you he’s learnt to adore.

How can he not? Perfection starts and ends with you. All your flaws, your calloused edges. All they do is pull him further in as he falls deeper and deeper into love with you.

As the boys wouls call it - he’s got it bad.

“Hi there,” Jeno mumbles into your ear. Your heartbeat jumps, before calming down again. He likes knowing what kind of effect he has on you. It’s reassurrance, and compliment at the same time. “Everything alright?”

“Mhm.” You sigh again. Whatever’s laying heavy on your heart, the wolf boy wishes you’d let him lift it off. Before he can further investigate, though, you let go of him and climb over to sit on his lap. He almost chokes on the very air he’s breathing as you wrap your arms around his body and rest your head on his chest, right above his heart. It’s your turn to listen to his embarrassingly quick pulse.

Jeno cradles your body. You’re vulnerable, his little porcelain doll. Often, he forgets that you’re a mere human, alive, easily breakable. If he could, he’d hide you from the world and never show you again, so no one would be able to inflict harm upon you. But that’s irrational. So he just holds you in his arms, and hopes it’s enough to protect you for now.

The moon had taught him everything he needed to know. What it had failed to mention is how wonderful it feels to have you close to him.

The feeling of a warm body finding comfort in his arms. Trust. Honesty. All of that is given to him by you without effort, and it makes his heart swell with pride. For weeks now, he’s trying to figure out a way to let you know about his feelings. Or explain how he’s able to turn into a four-legged creature at will, and sometimes it happens because he’s enraged. Now that he’s found you, he’s so scared of scaring you of. Rejection comes easy, especially to a human. You’re not bound to the laws of the moon and the spirits. The second you sensed distress, you’d be able to flee.

And that is the biggest fear imaginable to him. Jeno bows his head, buries his face in the crook of his neck. Atleast now, when you’re still unknown about his true creature and his feelings, you still let him hold you close. You run your fingers through his hair and pull him against you tightly.

If only you knew how safe he feels in your arms. How he fights with himself because he wants to tell you how his heart beats for you, how much he treasures you. But he can’t.

“I’m sorry I’m wasting your time,” you mumble.

Jeno pulls back, hands cupping your face. The fireworks you set off inside him when you lay yours over his and close your eyes are indescribable, but he doesn’t want to be distracted by you right now. Not when you’re talking nonsense. “What the hell are you on about?” he mumbles, pulling you closer. Your heart thrums in its’ cage, accelerates, the sound ringing in his ears like bells. Jeno wonders what is going in that brilliant mind. So he inquires: “Why would you think that? No time is wasted when it’s spent with you. I came because I genuinely wanted to be here. Why would you apologize?”

“I ... just feel like a waste of time. I haven’t been feeling well, but that’s no excuse to take it out on you.” You shift in his arms, light as a feather, let yourself be tucked under his chin. When he was younger, he had often sat on his mother’s lap for hours like that. There is no comparable feeling to that sense of security a hug like that provided. It was no wonder that he often tended to fall asleep like that, despite the noisy ambiance that would sometimes be present as he restes on his mom’s lap. “I like you. I don’t want to ruin ... what we have.”

Jeno feels like bursting from happiness. Without hesitation and nothing to hold him back now, he turns his head and presses kisses all over your face, everywhere he can reach. Luckily, you giggle at that, excited over him being so affectionate. After the party, you had always been afraid of doing something wrong because Jaemin had claimed he didn’t like clinginess. Now he proves you wrong, wiping any sign of worry as he kisses you for the first time ever.

Some describe it as fireworks. Dizziness, the giddy feeling of lips against yours - all of these impressions pale to the experience of kissing your soulmate for the first time. The one who had been yours long before time had existed, and histories were told. Written in the stars, waiting to happen, that was the bond that connected Jeno and you. Now, it came true.

The very thing Jeno wished for his entire life.

Kissing someone is very addicting. He’d been kissed once or twice in his life, sometimes even because of a dare. But this, this couldn’t compare. To put it into cheesy words, Jeno feels like he’s on top of the world. You move your lips against his in the same fervor, and you taste like love and heaven in one. The only reason he lets himself be pushed away is because you’re gasping for breath, and the view makes it all worth it.

Cherry-red cheeks. A happy smile matching the one he’s sporting right now. Jeno knows about romance, but he didn’t expect to be such a sucker for it. “I like you, too,” he finally admits, confirming what the moon had established aeons before. The words you were waiting so patiently to hear. “I like you so, so much. And that is why you should never think you’re a waste of time. If you’d like, (y/n), I’ll give you all the time I have. The only waste of my time is not being with you.”

You don’t answer. Now feeling a thousand times better, you pull Jeno close again, kissing him over and over until you’ve both long forgotten where you are and why you’re here in the first place.

Wherever you are is where he wants to be always.

❀ ❀ ❀

The full moon is not Lee Jeno’s best friend.

At the start of your relationship, he’d often make up excuses as to why he couldn’t meet you at that specific day. Thank the lord you understand and don’t ask about it any further, but with every lie Jeno tells you, his guilt weighs heavier on his guts and consequently on his packmates, as they share house and mind with him.

It’s not like he’s a pup who can’t control himself. But his imagination runs wild often. Whenever you’re the reason his pulse spikes, his emotions overwhelming his senses, he asks himself if he could handle the consequences of what could happen. Does he trust himself that much? Is he ready to risk you just to feel content at your side?

There are rumors of powerful alphas who lose control involuntary. Maybe it’s the alcohol involved, or someone upsets them. But human mates are dangerous to wolves who are let loose. It’s not good for a werewolf to suppress his supernatural side for long.

The second the conscience leaves them and makes way for bloodlust, it’s already too late.

Jeno cannot allow that, ever. If something ever happened to you, he wouldn’t know how to handle it. Turn and kill the person responsible? Lose his mind and hurt you, like the alphas who acted to quick and hurt, wounded, killed their mates? They’re only rumors, but even rumors have a reason to be spread. Like wildfires, they make themselves known, and they haunt Jeno every second he spends with you.

Soft skin. Frail bones. That’s all you are. Precious, so easy to break. It’s not a secret that Jeno struggles with the effects of the full moon every now and then. If he cannot even assure the security of his own will, how is he going to protect you?

Lies are poison to any relationship. It’s what Jaemin keeps telling him every day and night, the second he stands up and shortly before returning to bed. They’re packmates - whenever they travel in wolf form, they have to share their heads. Whatever is hidden, becomes exposed through that bond. A blessing sometimes, but especially pesky when Jeno is busy trying to drown out his conscience.

He needs to tell you. Sooner or later. If he doesn’t do it now, he’s going to regret it forever.

His precious little mate - how is Jeno going to look you in the eyes and that he’s the most dangerous thing to ever happen to humankind?

❀ ❀ ❀

Tell her. Tell her. Tell her.

Jaemin’s voice blares through his head as Jeno changes back and grabs the clothes he laid ready before leaving. The boys like running in the woods outside of the city, but it’s bothersome to return home again after basically running around naked. Their outfit isn’t really protected from the magic that is involved with turning.

Jeno wishes his best friend would stop. He’s already in a struggle against himself, he doesn’t need anyone to meddle to feel bad. It’s already messing with Jeno’s mind. What’s even worse is that you’re so unassuming. Selfless and loving, you give your heart to Jeno without expecting anything in return.

It’s the full moon.

Claws extend themselves on instinct, no matter how much Jeno begs them to stay in place. It’s a battle for the reins inside himself - Jeno against the wolf, and Jeno’s losing. He wishes you were here. At the same time, he’s glad you’re nowhere near him or the pack.

As long as you’re not here, you’re safe. Safe is good. Safe calms him down. There’s no need to worry, except maybe about himself. Jaemin grabs his hands opens them, revealing to Jeno that he had been burying his claws in his palm without noticing.

“Dude,” Jaemin says while shaking his head. The blueberry hair whips with every move. “Don’t you realize that you’re just making it harder by keeping it to yourself? You’re the one inflicting all the stress and strain on your control. If you’d just tell her, you wouldn’t have to worry about ruining everything and losing her.”

“And how are you so sure?” Jeno lets himself be pulled to the kitchen table. He watches as Jaemin turns away from him to get a wet rag, shoulders squared, back tense. Jaemin is a happy-go-lucky type of guy. For his mood to be so soured because of Jeno, it must really bother him.

Jaemin sits alongside Jeno. Carefully, as if Jeno would break under his touch, he starts cleaning the bloody palms, even though the wounds have already healed up. Jaemin has always been worrying about him. No matter how small the wound was, he was the first one to sit Jeno down and take care of it. As a child, he even used to cry when Jeno got hurt, because he felt bad that he failed to protect the other.

When really, Jaemin had always been there for him.

No one else lets Jeno vent without expecting anything in return. There are not many who can say they’ve held Jeno in his arms because he shared his sorrow and fears with them, and only Jaemin prides himself with knowing Jeno best. If there really are platonic soulmates, he’d like to think Jaemin was his.

That’s why when the boys meet eyes, Jeno already believes him, without the other even saying anything. Jaemin grips his hands tightly, fingers interwoven like when they were younger. “Because she loves you,” Jaemin explains, soft smile on his lips. “And I’m so glad you found someone who’s going to love you endlessly for the rest of their life. Trust me. When she looks at you, it’s like she’s looking at the stars. Full of yearning and adoration. Everyone wants to be looked at like that.”

Jeno moves to rest his head on his best friend’s shoulder. It’s not often Jeno is so openly affectionate with him, but it’s the only way he can express his gratitude. Fingers cars through Jeno’s hair as Jaemin holds him close and squeezes him tightly. Friends by blood, brothers in soul.

Always and forever.

“I’ll tell her,” Jeno promises. “As soon as I see her again.”

Though that proves to be rather difficult when Jeno finds out how clumsy you are, and he keeps worrying about you walking into trouble. For example now, as you stumble right into the crowd full of vampires. He thinks he’s going to pass out.

Technically speaking, wolves aren’t allowed here. The only reason Jeno is let in is because they adore Jaemin. Everyone adores Jaemin. As long as Jeno stays out of trouble, everything should be fine. Sadly, you steer him right into it.

He should’ve seen it coming. The glass dropping to the ground makes him flinch, and he reaches to pick the broken glass up for you. If he wasn’t nervous before, he is now.

Blood drips down the shards you just cut yourself. “Oh my god,” he whispers, panic flooding his mind. He has to get you the hell out of here. Moving to pull you up, Jeno fails to stop a vampire from grabbing your hand.

This is Jeno’s daily reminder to never let you take him to a party again.

“Get the hell off of her,” he hisses at the stranger, and with a rather harsh tug, you’re at his side again. The dude growls, and on instinct, Jeno bares his canines at him. That is the single most stupid thing he could’ve done, and he hopes you haven’t seen it. He’s not gonna be able to explain it with all the alcohol that entered his system already. So he pulls you closer and hopes your sight is obscured from where he’s hidden you.

“What, is that your bitch?” The vampire snickers over his dog joke. Below you, Jeno starts fuming. Seconds later, the bloodsucker is on the ground clutching his broken nose as his own blood gushes out of it, and you shriek and cradle Jeno’s hand in your own. He doesn’t let you fuss over him, opting to pull you out of the mess this situation has turned into and heading straight out of the house.

He’s very lucky the vampires don’t come after him. Hopefully, they understood that the dude was in the fault for trying to turn his girlfriend into a midnight snack. Outside in an empty alley, you jut your lip out in a pout and try to stop the tears forming in your eyes. Jeno kisses you, hoping to calm you down, but you lean away.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault,” you whimper. The anguish in your voice makes his heart hurt. Why are you taking the blame? You didn’t know you were in the presence of vampires. You’re just human. Precious cargo. He needs to protect you.

And to tell you the truth.

But for now, he tugs you closer and leans his head on youre. “No baby, that was mine,” he sighs into your hair and breathes in deeply. Your scent always makes him calm down, satisfying the wolf inside of him. “Lets get you something to eat so you can sober up.”

Unbeknownst to him, you ponder over what you saw inside the club. If your eyes were betraying to you. You blame it on the alcohol, but something inside you keeps coming back to it.

All you say is “okay”.

❀ ❀ ❀

“If you keep hurting yourself like that,” Jeno grits his teeth, “I’m going to die from worry. And it’s going to be all your fault.”

Your boyfriend treats your hand as careful as possible. When Jeno is concentrated, he looks really cute, almost innocent. Entranced by the task at hand. You adore the way his features soften up as he takes in the information infront of him. Despite him threatening you with his early death, he is easily calmed down by you combing your hair with his fingers, tugging at the strands as he hums. “It’s not my fault I’m clumsy,” you defend yourself. “I got it from my mom. It’s a (l/n) women thing.”

“Let me have a talk with your mom, then.”

“Sure. Want me to introduce you as my boyfriend officially?”

The tips of Jeno’s ears turn red, and you giggle. He always plays the big bad wolf, but truth be told, he’s just as easy to fluster as you are. Within seconds, you’re seated on his lap, hand properly bandaged, while his own disappear onto your shirt and rest on your lower back. “Cold!” you hiss at him, but Jeno only smirks.

You live for moments like these. Being with him, feeling comfortable. The best kind of feeling is Jeno being affectionate, naturally. Because he wants to be. Normally, he’s on the receiving end of the clinginess. So when he switches positions like this, it makes butterflies erupt in your belly and your heart jump in your chest.

“I’d love to meet your parents,” he mumbles. Jeno’s voice is void of mockery, instead showing you how serious he is about this. Since day one, he has always treated you like a constant. Permanent in his life. You were both in for it forever. You’re glad you found something like that to love you. “I have to thank them for giving the world such a precious daughter. But I’d also like to talk about them how much you trip over invisible stuff, or get into trouble with some sorority girls that you let trample all over you and then I have to put them in their place...”

“Hey!” You pinch his cheeks. Jeno grins. “I’m not that bad.”

“You are the number one source of stress in my life right now, but I forgive you. You are the biggest source of happiness in my life aswell.”

If you were physically able to melt, you’d do it right now. Jeno accepts the many kisses you leave on his lips, grin evident on them when you gush about him. He likes being praised. He gives it back tenfold, too. After kissing him properly, you lean back and say: “You could meet them this friday, if you want.”

Jeno tenses below you.

You bite the inside of your cheek. That’s not how you thought he’d react. “Only if you want... Sorry, I thought...”

“Of course I want to, angel. I love you.” Jeno presses his lips against your cheeks. Your heart flutters. “But I have to study this weekend. I have so much homework to catch up on. Maybe next week?”

Sure. Next week.

❀ ❀ ❀

You’ve never been to Jeno’s house.

Many nights are spent with him sleeping over at yours, disappearing under the blankets as he holds you close to his strong body and leaves love marks all over. You know he lives with his friends, and they tend to be really chaotic. Jaemin for example is a familiar face, and you’ve briefly seen Mark and Renjun. Other than them, you don’t know much about the boys your boyfriend lives with, and you don’t mind sleeping over at your appartment instead of his. It’s normal to crave privacy, especially when you’re in a relationship and want the other person all to yourself.

But sometimes, you get a little sad when you sense the things he’s hiding. The stutters, directing the conversation elsewhere - telltale signs you know by heart. You know he doesn’t distrust you; you feel it in your heart, see it in his eyes when he locks gazes and tells you everything you ever ask for. Of course it’s normal to take time with some things, before you share them with others. You really just wish you could tell him it’s okay. That you understand.

Jeno would be too busy to go out, like he told you. So, like the good girlfriend you are, you got him some comfort food and are ready to cuddle the hell out of him.

That’s a good thing, right? Then why is it that Jaemin looks so panicked when he opens the door and recognizes you?

“(y/n),” he sputters out. “I, uhh, thought Jeno already told you? He’s pretty busy, all holed up in his room.. All the work, you know...”

“I know!” you say, and hope that your smile doesn’t look as unsure as it feels like. Did they not want you here? You thought you knew Jeno’s heart, but maybe that was just you calming yourself down. “I thought I could bring him some food and help. Is it alright if I come in?”

Something rumbles loudly. It sounds like furniture breaking, and Jaemin’s eyes widen. “What was that?” you ask, shocked. Out of instinct, you move to come in, but Jaemin steps in your way, firm hands holding you back. It crashes upstairs, and you raise your head. Not like you could see through the ceiling. What the hell is going on?

“(y/n), this is a really, really bad time,” he hisses. His gaze goes back and forth from the stairs to you, as if he’s pondering over something. “I need you to leave right now. I promise Jeno will explain soon-“

“How about now?” you shoot back, slipping past the boy and making your way upstairs before Jaemin can stop you. It’s a good thing you’re sneaky. Following the noise, you flee from Jaemin and the pleads he makes for you to come back down, that Jeno’s going to kill him...

You throw open the door to the source of all the noise.

The myths; you’ve heard about them. The man who fell in love with the moon, crying wolf as he turns in the shine of its’ light. All the fantasy stories your mother told you to lull you to sleep. The books, movies, shows. They’re all fiction. What’s going on in front of you is everything but. What you see is only confirmation of what you thought of in the club.

Jeno looks you straight in the eyes, but he doesn’t look like him. Wide, yellow eyes, sharpened fangs. He’s literally chained to the wall, pulling at them and struggling to get free. Jaemin stumbles inside, letting out an “uh, oh” at the sight that’s unfolding infront of you.

“What the hell is going on?” you whisper.

Your boyfriend tugs at the chains keeping him trapped in the corner of his room. All the crashing you heard was because Jeno threw over his nightstand and is currently working on ripping out the heater that was restricting him from leaving.

Are you dreaming?

“(y/n), I really, really need you to go.” Jaemin grabs your arms, urging you to leave, probably hoping you won’t actually run and never come again. He’s interrupted by a loud snarl, the sound of Jeno breaking free - the metal manacles around his wrists fall to the ground as he pushes Jaemin away and swoops you into his arms.

“Do not touch her!”

Jaemin looks at Jeno as if he‘s trying to calm down a wild animal. Maybe he is. Jeno’s claws are ripping at your shirt as he presses you against his chest, hiding you behind him; protecting you. You can feel the elongated nails at your waist, but never once do they cut you. His grip is tight, but not hurtful. “Jeno,” Jaemin carefully speaks. “Let go of her. You’re going to hurt her.”

“Stay away,” Jeno threatens. His voice is dripping of malice, so unused to the Jeno you love. Trembling in your hold, he shields you from his best friend’s sight. Does he think Jaemin is going to jump you? “Stay away from my mate.”

Mate.

The word seems familiar. Fitting. You look Jeno in the eyes, but his own are fixed on the other boy - wolf? - waiting for him to move away. It all starts making sense. The uneasiness of talking about his friends, avoiding you at full moons.

His mate.

Jaemin steps closer. Jeno growls and pushes you further behind him, making you squeak. The sound snaps Jeno out of his anger and he quickly turns around, citrine eyes turning back into the brown you love and adore. More teddybear than wolf. “Are you alright?” he asks, concerned. “Oh my god, I’m never going to forgive myself if I hurt you, did I cut you? Do you-“

“Jeno,” you interrupt him. “Shut up.”

His mouth snaps shut. Jaemin, in utter disbelief, lets his own drop open.

Jeno watches as you hold his hands to your face, and you’re glad the claws retract when you smile at him. No matter what, Jeno always thinks about you first. That’s why you fell in love with him. His caring nature towards you, the sense of being protected. Even now, he managed to forget his fury because he was so afraid of inflicting harm upon you. “I’m alright,” you finally say. Calmness washes over Jeno, and Jaemin breathes out in relief, stepping out of the room to give you two some privacy. “Oh my god,” your boyfriend repeats again, and then he finally leans down to embrace you and hide his face in your neck.

Maybe you’re insane. Any normal person would’ve left the second they sensed something was wrong with their significant other. But you’re not normal. You’re Jeno’s mate. You love him.

“You should’ve told me,” you whisper in his ear. He leaves kisses all over your throat, now finally at ease. Because you’re here, maybe? You’d like for that to be true.

“Sure. That would’ve ended pretty good. ‘Hey babe, I’m a supernatural being who loses control every once in a while. Totally normal.’”

“I’ve always wanted my own Jacob Black,” you reply to that. Jeno groans, but you only break out into laughter and pull him closer. You should feel scared, but instead it feels like you’re in the safest place on earth. “Seriously, Jeno. I love you. No matter who you are. Even though it was kinda scary to see you like this... But now I finally know why I miss you all the time. It was meant to be.”

“I’m glad you think that way,” Jeno mumbles, lips chasing yours. His kisses are soft, careful. Loving. If there’s one thing you can always be sure of, it’s Jeno’s love. “Because now is the perfect opportunity to get those manacles off of me so I can take you on the date you deserve. Without hiding anything.”

“You promise? Maybe I need another kiss to be absolutely sure you’re serious.”

There’s nothing else Jeno loves more than doing just that.

#i should proofread this but i rlly dont want to so . here u go #i’m sorry it took so long #i love u 🥺🤍#lee jeno #nct dream #nct #lee jeno x reader #nct dream x reader #nct x reader #lee jeno fluff #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #lee jeno scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct scenarios

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chickensarentcheap · 3 years

Text

Never Gonna Be Alone -Chapter 13

Title: Confrontations

Warnings: none

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @tragiclyhip, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @alievans007

“How big does my ass look in this?”

It’s the age old question: does this outfit make me look fat? Men for centuries have been making the mistake of actually answering; aware that it’s a trap but freezing up in the moment and choosing a response instead of just a vow of silence. It’s a slippery slope. Answer honestly and find yourself banished to the couch for six months to a year, tell a very obvious lie and find your sex life become barren and obsolete for the rest of your natural born life, or say the honest to goodness truth yet have it taken as bullshit and never get to sleep in the matriomonial bed again. Tyler considers himself one of the lucky few. The question isn’t posed often and when it is, she knows he speaks the truth; believing his words and accepting the compliment and having her whole day run smoothly and happily because he’d taken mere seconds to say something nice. He’s never seen her in the negative light she often paints herself in; the extra pounds and the stretch marks, the wrinkles by the corners of her eyes and the strands of gray in her hair. It all makes her who she is; hips wider because she’s given birth to HIS children, the lines by her eyes only showing when she’s smiling and adding something even extra adorable to the mix, those silvery strands in her dark dresses sparkling in the light and making her even more attractive.

Maybe she ISN'T the same person she was twelve and a half years ago. The tiny, incredibly fit and toned little thing that had shown up on his doorstep; tattooed and pierced and full of confidence and swagger for someone so small and seemingly fragile. Walking in there like she owned the place and not even batting an eyelash at the crude and rustic living conditions or the amount of booze littering countertops and almost every open space or even the countless bottles of OxyContin sitting on the kitchen table. She hadn’t even been put off by his initial less than hospitable welcome. Ignoring both his grumpy mood and his leeriness at having a stranger in his space and serving up that beautiful, bright smile; offering an impossible small, soft hand that had been engulfed by his.

If he’s totally honest with himself, it was then that he knew shit was about to change. The way she didn’t shy away from prolonged eye contact and how their hands remained clasped a little longer than normal. When Nik had left them alone to begin the ‘getting to know your fake spouse’ process, she hadn’t been easily intimidated by either his size or his gruff nature. Laughing at his off handed remarks and not seeming the least bit nervous or awkward when he offered her a drink; downing it quicker than he’d ever seen a woman do before and not refusing when he poured her another. He’d learned in those few minutes just how deceiving looks can actually be; assuming by her petite stature and that fresh faced, ‘girl next door’ look that she was way too pure and innocent to be caught up in a world like his. What in the hell would a woman like THAT being doing getting herself mixed up in the job? Someone with so much light still remaining in their eyes; happy and bubbly despite the fucked up situation they’re so willingly throwing themselves into. He’d never come across that in the past few years as a merc; someone who hadn’t been traumatized by the things they’ve seen, heard, or done. And it had been a breath of fresh air; liking the sound of that tiny little voice and the beautiful smile and the way she’d so intently watch him and cock her head to the side while listening to him talk.

She’d been different than anyone he’d ever met. Even outside of the job. A mere thirty minutes more than enough to discover that she wasn’t a push over; feisty and headstrong as opposed to meek and mild. And that’s what he’d been the most attracted to. The fact she hadn’t been turned off by him or her surroundings in the slightest; not afraid to engage him in conversation and push him -in a very smooth and effortless way- to keep up with her. Finding himself talking more to her half an hour than he’d spoken to anyone in the past few years. His instincts had been on high alert; assuring him that she was trustworthy and accepting and that her queries and curiosity were her being genuinely interested in him, not looking for things to judge him on. And when she’d left he’d actually found himself feeling happier and lighter than he had in a hell of a long time. Anxious about seeing her again.

That had been the first moment of fear; the anticipation of once more coming face to face with her and getting to know more about her. Even an hour ago, he wouldn’t have given a shit; if a strange woman had been dropped at his feet, he wouldn’t have even bothered to feign interest and would have quickly dismissed them. But there’d been something about that cute little brunette. Those dark, soulful eyes and that sweet smile and that tiny voice. The way she’d looked at him when they’d first been introduced and how her palm had felt against his. It had been years since he’d felt any stirring of feeling towards someone else; convinced he was dead inside and that he’d live the rest of his life -if he wasn’t lucky enough to catch a bullet or drink himself to death- miserable and alone in that dusty little shack. Convinced that he was too much of a mess for anyone to take a chance on; an alcoholic hired gun with a checkered and fucked up past and pain killer addiction. Who in their right mind would want to take on someone like that? And did such a person even exist? Strong enough to deal with his shit and help him through it, yet compassionate and understanding enough not to judge him and condemn him for it?

He’d actually gone into the whole ‘fake marriage’ thing with cautious optimism. Staying completely sober for the twenty four hours until he saw her again; cleaning himself up and wearing proper clothes and suddenly feeling more confident and secure than he had in a hell of a long time. But it had all happened too fast, too soon; the feelings way too much to cope with and the fear of being a disappointment and a failure leading him to push her away that night at the hotel outside of Dhaka. He’d wanted to be with her; shocked by the amount of both sexual and emotional attraction he was experiencing towards her. He’’d come so close; mere seconds away from kissing her and giving in to unbridled lust and accepting her invitation to spend the night in her room. And it had been that same fear and worry that had caused him to react so badly on the job; grabbing her by the throat in an attempt to scare her away instead of having his heart broken when she could no longer put up with his shit and walked away.

It had been a complete and utter failure, of course. She hadn’t been the less bit scared. That had been an even bigger turn on; knowing how much she could actually take and just how strong she really was. And he’d known afterwards -both arms wrapped tightly and securely around her and her resting on his chest as she napped- that there was no chance of walking away. That no matter how bad the worry and the fear got, he wouldn’t be capable of letting her go. It wasn’t love. It was way too soon for that; it’s impossible to feel something so deep and profound THAT quickly. But he’d known he was well on his way to BEING in love with her. If he was lucky enough to live that long and get that chance.

Now, twelve and a half years later, he glances up from where he’s crouched in the front foyer, attempting to get the three littlest bundled into their winter gear. It’s an adventure to say the least; the climbing into snowsuits and boots and the constant search for hats and mittens that match. And it never fails; getting them completely ready and one -or more- announcing they need to use the bathroom. It’s happened twice already; Takota and Addie deciding they need to go and can’t wait until they get to their lunch destination. Brooklyn the lone holdout; smart enough to go BEFORE preparations to leave began.

“Be honest,” Esme says, as she stands at the bottom landing; a hand on the railing as she turns both sideways and backwards, enabling him to get a look at the ‘object’ in question.

She’s not clad in her normal every day attire; baggy sweatpants and oversized t-shirt replaced by a pair of black leggings and a charcoal gray sweater dress cinched tightly at the waist by a wide, plain black belt. Just hint of make up graces her face; nothing more than eyeliner and mascara and a tint of blush. Sides of her hair pulled back, the braided section hanging over top the remaining tresses. And when he pauses a tad too long in answering, a frown replaces the almost nervous smile. “That bad?”

“Not bad at all. I was just thinking how nice you look. Not that you don’t look nice all the time. Just you look different. In a nice way.”

“You look beautiful mumma,” Takota praises, as a knit beanie is pulled down onto his head and mittens tugged on his hands. “You’re pretty always, but you’re beautiful NOW.”

“You are the sweetest little muffin ever,” Esme declares, as steps off the landing and takes his face in her hands; pressing a kiss to each chubby cheek and then his lips. “And daddy is teaching you VERY well.”

“Gotta start ‘em young,” Tyler reasons, then reaches for the handle on the front door. “Out. Before you start sweating. Or have to go to the bathroom again.”

“My feet are already sweaty,” Addie complains, as she yanks a purple and pink striped beanie down over her forehead. “I don’t like sweaty feet. I don’t like boots. Or shoes.”

“I feel your pain.” He pulls the zipper of her coat up to her chin. “Outside. Tell TJ and Millie I’ll be out in a second. No going outside the gate.”

“It’s scary outside the gate,” Brooklyn says, as she falls in line behind her siblings as they stomp out the door and onto the front porch. “Too many cars. And noise. And people. I don’t like people.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” Esme remarks as playfully pulls her husband’s hat down over his eyes, then gives his shoulders a tight squeeze. “I wonder where she gets THAT from?”

He fixes the beanie; pushing it back off his forehead and then tending to the laces on his boots. “Why do you blame me for everything? The way they bitch and moan about the cold, the way they hate socks and shoes, this pout that they supposedly all have.”

“There’s nothing supposed about it. They all have the pout. Which they inherited from YOU.”

He shoots her a scowl over his shoulder. “I don’t pout.”

“Like shit you don’t. You DO pout. And I have more than one piece of photographic evidence, thank you very much.”

“I don’t care what any of those photos say. That is not a pout.” He grimaces as he stands, the tightness -and accompanying gnawing pain- in the knee and back a little more intense than usual. “It’s a frown.”

“It’s a pout. A very vicious one. One that says you might bite someone’s head off if they get too close.”

“It’s not a frown then, is it. If it’s mean. Pouts aren’t mean. Pouts are sad. I’m not sad if I’m wanting to bite someone’s head off.”

“We are going to have to agree to disagree on this,” she says, and smoothes down the front of his front of Henley style shirt before reaching for the zipper on his jacket.

A grin tugs at the corners of his mouth as she tends to him. It’s something he’s gotten used to over the years; her need to provide even the simplest level of care for the people that she loves. It’s the motherly instinct that runs strongly through her veins; unable to turn off the need to help and nurture, even when it comes to him.

“You know, I DO know how to do this stuff for myself.”

“I know,” she chirps, and then stands on her tiptoes to pull his beanie down further. “But I like doing it. I like taking care of you. You think you’d be used to it by now. I’ve only been annoying the shit out of you with it for the past twelve and half years. Your back’s sore?”

“And my knee.”

“Maybe when we get home you should call and get them looked at it. Better to be safe than sorry. They’ve been acting up pretty bad lately.”

“Just the cold weather. Nothing serious. You need to stop worrying so much.”

She stares pointedly up at him.

“I know. You can’t help it. But can you tone it down just a bit? I’m fine. It’s the weather. It makes the arthritis act up. Just like the surgeon said it would.”

“You realize we don’t have to come here for Christmas, right? We could save this place for getting away during warmer weather. We do NOT have to come during the winter.”

“The kids like coming here; the whole white Christmas thing. And so do you. I can deal with it. I’ve dealt with worse.”

“But you shouldn’t have to just ‘deal with it’. Your comfort is important to me, too. The kids and I would cope. With Christmas in Australia. It’s no big deal. If it’s that painful…”

“It’s not. It just acts up from time to time. More uncomfortable than actual pain. You’d know if I was in pain, trust me.”

“And you’re taking meds? You’re not trying to go without?:

“I am taking them the exact way they’re supposed to be taken. Take it down a notch, okay? I know you worry. I know you want to take care of me. And believe, I love you very much for that. But you also drive me a little fucking insane.”

“I happen to love you, you enormously stubborn pain in my ass. And if you’re that uncomfortable and it’s only getting worse…”

“Stop,” he gently orders, taking her face in both of hands and pressing a kiss to her lips. “And by the way, speaking of your ass…” Placing his hands on his shoulders, he runs them slowly down her arms. Fingertips drifting over the curves of her wrist and over the top of her hand; palms briefly settling on her hands before travelling to her butt. “...it looks fucking amazing in that outfit. And I think you should wear it more.”

She grins. “What happened to wanting me to wear yoga pants all the time?”

“Oh, those are still my favourite. But I’m okay if you wear this too.”

“Just for you, I’ll add it to my steady rotation of clothes. I’d hate to deprive you of any quality ass watching time.”

“You spoil me.” As he leans down to kiss her, she perches herself on her tiptoes and wraps both arms around his neck. Eagerly responding at first, then giggling when he brings his palms against the cheeks of her ass in sound, stinging smacks before aggressively pinching. “You do look beautiful, by the way. I mean, you always do, but…”

“Extra beautiful?”

“Very,” he confirms, and kisses her once more; longer and deeper, hands slipping from her ass in order to softly glide up and down her back. “Think I should lock the door? So we can have a quickie right here?”

“As tempted as I am, that’s definitely NOT a good idea. You’re going to have to be patient and wait for later. When everyone’s in bed."

“No sneaking into the pantry or the guest bathroom? These are some pretty shitty wifing skills on your part.”

“Just the most horrible wife ever. In the history of marriage. You poor, poor man. I am sorry you have go one day with getting one blow job instead of two.”

“That’s ground for divorce,” he teases.

“I’ve been way too good to you over the course of the last five years. You’ve come to expect these things. You don’t see me expecting to be woken up the same way every morning.”

“Bullshit. I’ve been waking you up the same way every day for nearly six years. You can’t tell me you don’t expect it. That you wouldn’t miss it if it suddenly stopped.”

“I would be extremely disappointed, actually. But seeing as you like doing it just as much as I like being on the receiving end, I know it won’t stop any time soon. I WILL make it up to you. You have my word. And I’m good on my word.”

“I have to admit, you haven’t disappointed me yet. Promise me that you’ll spoil yourself today? That you won’t buy me or the kids all kinds of shit we won’t need? I know what you’re like. I know you always plan on buying things for yourself and never do. Don’t piss me off. Don’t make me put you through a dry spell.”

“I promise that I will only spoil myself. Although I don’t see why I should bother. You do a good enough job. You’re the king of needless spoiling.”

“I spoil you because you deserve it. And because it makes me happy. That I can’t buy you shit just for the sake of buying it. Humour me, okay? Let me make up for all the times we barely had money for food and I had no idea how I was going to pay rent from month to the next.”

“Which was none of your fault,” she reminds him. “You almost died. You were in inpatient for two months. And even after you got home, you weren’t exactly well enough to work. Stop blaming yourself. It was way beyond your control. And we did fine. We managed. We didn’t have much but we were happy. All that mattered to me was that you were alive and we were together. And that our baby girl was healthy. Nothing else mattered.”

“I just like being able to give you things. Not because you need them or even necessarily want them. Just because. So shut up and let me do it, yeah? Let me spoil my wife.”

“I have a feeling this is an argument I will never win.”

“You know what? I will gladly die on this hill.”

“Speaking of hills to die on, you’ve picked a pretty big one. Taking all seven plus Alannah out at once? That takes some balls, babe. That’s some serious superhero shit. And you say you’re not brave?”

“Out of curiosity, which kids are your favorites? Because I can’t promise all seven of them will make it back. And seeing as there’s no sharks to offer sacrifices to, looks like I’m feeding them to the subway trolls.”

“You’ll be just fine. You’ve done this before; taking all the kids out at once. And you lived to tell about it. You have some serious cajones, honey. No one can ever convince me otherwise.”

“You think way too highly of me. I better go. Before someone DOES have to go to the bathroom. And if I have go through that one more time…”

“You are a brave, brave man, Tyler Rake. I don’t want to ever hear you say any different. I’d say have a good time, but we’re talking about seven kids plus an extra, so…”

“Just keep your fingers crossed my sanity stays intact. Or what’s left of it anyway.” Laying a hand on the back of her head, he pulls her into one final kiss; her tiny frame once more perched on her tiptoes as she leans into him. It’s become their ‘thing’; never leave the home without a hug and a kiss and telling the other how you feel about them. Life is just too short and unpredictable; the incident five years ago reminding them just how quickly everything can change and be snatched away from you. And he pulls her close; a forearm along the small of her back and his lips against her temple. “I love you.”

Giving his neck a final squeeze, she runs her fingernails along the nape and then brushes her lips against his cheek. “I love you. Be good. No feeding any of the children to the subway trolls. I happen to quite like all of them.”

“I’m not making any promises. Remember what I said; about spoiling yourself. And about something sexy.”

“I still think I should get a hint. About your plans for after Ovi’s wedding.”

“I told you. It’s a surprise.” He reaches for the handle on the door. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

“Yeah…” she smiles, shooting him a wink as he steps out onto the snow covered porch. “...you will.”

*****

Even a simple two block walk is an adventure with eight kids in tow. The oldest leading the pack while the stragglers and the littlest ones follow; tiny legs finding it easier to navigate unshoveled sidewalks when they have much larger footprints to step into. For the most part they are an amicable and well behaved group. Millie and Alannah with their locked arms and their high pitched giggles and seemingly endless chattering, TJ with a protective slung across Tanner’s shoulders and always ready and willing to help him to either climb over snow covered curbs or carrying him entirely. Declan and Brooklyn are the ‘wild ones’; sandwiched in the middle of the group to avoid them running too far ahead and kept in line by a stern Millie threatening to clothesline them if they dare jump into the puddles of slush. Takota and Addie are the slow pokes; tiny bodies weighed down by heavy boots and layers of clothes, always stopping every few feet to make footprints in the higher banks or to ball up snow and toss it at each other. And while the frequent stops and the repetitive -yet calm and patient- requests to just ‘get a move on’ would likely be annoying to most parents, Tyler relishes in every second he gets to spend with his kids; knowing how quick everything can be snatched away and your life altered forever. Nothing makes him smile like the sight of those little faces turned up towards the sky; eyes closed and their noses scrunched up as they try to catch snowflakes on their tongues. And there’s no sound more beautiful than those shrieks and giggles; unleashed when he picks both of them up and tosses them into snowbanks. In the end the journey and the deeper areas of snow defeats tiny legs and he resorts to carrying them; one in each arm as they tightly cling to his neck.

They’re shown to a booth at the back of the restaurant; upholstered in red leather and large enough to fit parties of their size. It’s chaos getting everyone undressed; arms flailing as jackets are yanked off and the straps of snow pants pushed down, littles complaining about their feet being sweaty and not thinking twice of kicking their boots off, hats and mitts having to be fetched when they slip out of sleeves and hoods and have to be fetched from under the table. They’ve eaten in the establishment enough to be seen as regulars. The havoc and noise going on unacknowledged by staff and fellow diners; the occasional sympathetic or amused smile being tossed in their direction, a handful of compliments revolving aroundt how cute the kids are and their ‘charming’ accents, praises on how well he’s handling such a large ‘brood’ and how brave he is for taking them all out at once. Even a comment about how not seeing many ‘male’ nannies even in this day and age.

“He’s not our nanny.” Brooklyn is quick to speak up. Never backing down from what she considers something ridiculous or rude. “It’s our dad. We’re all related. Except for her…” she jerks her head in Alannah’s direction. “..but she might as well be. We love her like she’s one of us. And she likes our house better. It’s more fun. Her parents are assholes.”

“Language,” Tyler admonishes, and lays a hand on the back of her head and gently pushes her in the direction of the booth. “And you don’t have to tell everyone our business.”

“It’s totally obvious you’re not our nanny. We all look alike. Well, maybe not Declan. He’s the odd duck.”

“Hey!” Declan objects from his place between Millie and TJ. “I look like grandma Adeline. Which was dad’s mom. So that means I look like dad. Just a red headed version. I still look like him though.”

“You don’t even have blue eyes,” Brooklyn argues, as she slides onto the bench and wriggles her way across. “You don’t look like daddy at all. Well, maybe his nose. And his ears.”

“I don’t have blue eyes either,” Addie pipes up, as she’s helped out of her coat and shoves her hat and mittens into the sleeves. “Yet daddy is my daddy. I don’t look like him at all.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re adopted,” Declan says.

“I am not! I look like mommy! Daddy says so. That I look just like her. That if mommy got put into a shrinking machine, you’d get me. That’s what you said, right daddy? That I look like a tiny version of mommy.”

“You look just like her,” he confirms, and slides the straps of her snow pants down her arms. “A little version. Her mini me.”

“Like TJ is yours, right? Only TJ isn’t so little. He’s tall and big. I’m short and wee. Why am I short and wee? Why can’t I be tall like you guys?”

“All the good genes ran out,” Millie explains. “By the time mom and dad got to you, there was nothing good left. You got the spare stuff.”

“You’re full of shit,” Addie counters, then smiles sheepishly up at her father. “Sorry. Language. I know, I know. But sometimes it just slips out. You’re a bad influence.”

Grinning, he removes the elastic from her lopsided ponytail and uses his fingers to comb through the messy dark tresses. “You’re going to throw me under the bus, are you?”

“You swear all the time. Especially in the car. When people don’t use their blinkers or they drive too slow in the fast lane.”

“Or if people come too close to us when we’re in the crosswalk,” TJ adds. “Remember last year? When we were going to see mom at the store? When someone was going to run the light when we were crossing? Dad put his foot right through their front grill.”

“And said a whole lot of bad words,” Declan adds. “For everyone to hear.”

“For the record…” he gathers Addie’s hair in both hands and resets the ponytail. “...it could have been worse. I could have put my foot through his face.”

“I would have paid to have seen that,” TJ declares. “I’m almost eleven and I still haven’t seen you mess anyone up. I feel robbed.”

“I’d like to see him hand someone their ass,” Millie says. “I’ve just heard stories. I want to see it with my own two eyes.”

“You should totally beat the crap out Jacobi,” Declan chimes in. “He totally has a crush on mum. That’s not right. That’s someone else's wife. You don’t mess with someone else’s wife. Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Especially OUR mom,” Tanner adds, as he rummages through his backpack for his weighted lap pad and noise cancelling headphones. “Has he not seen our dad? Like, hello! He’s ginormous. And he looks scary too. All the tattoos and stuff? And he has a scary voice.”

“He only looks scary when he’s mad. And his voice is only scary when he yells,” Brooklyn contributes. “His normal voice isn’t scary. It’s just deep. Like Darth Vader. And mommy’s voice sounds like a little elf. It’s a really weird combo. But you should, daddy. Beat up, Jacobi. He tries to get cozy with mommy. The other day while you were away, he brought her a caramel macchiato from Starbucks. A venti. Do you know how much those things cost? He must be in love with her. You should for sure punch him in the face. At least once. Twice if you want him to stay down.”

“Listen pipsqueak, I don’t need your advice on how to knock someone out. And no one is beating anyone up. Jacobi’s a kid. He has a crush. That’s it.”

“Naw, it’s totally love,” Declan argues. “No one with just a crush buys you Starbucks. Dunkin’ Donuts, maybe. Not the expensive stuff.”

“You all need to relax.” Sliding into the booth, he reaches for Addie and places her on his lap. She and Brooklyn have their own calendar they’ve created; keeping a very accurate and detailed log on the dates and times each got to sit with daddy in order to determine whose turn it is and avoid arguments. “I don’t think your mom has a thing for Jacobi. I don’t think you have to worry about him ever becoming your step dad.”

“Desi might,” Takota pipes up. “He likes mummy. They always spend a lot of time together.”

“That’s mum’s best friend,” TJ informs his littlest brother. “He’s like an older brother to her. She IS not going to leave dad for Desi. She’s not going to leave dad for anyone. He’d have to be the one to screw up and leave.”

“No one is leaving anyone for someone else. You guys are too much. Just decide what you want, okay? You’re giving me more gray hair here. Let’s play the quiet game. Everyone look at your menu and pick something. And don’t talk while doing it.”

“The quiet game doesn’t work,” Tanner says, and pulls a stuffed koala from his backpack and hands it across the table to Addie. “You almost forgot Fredrick at home.”

“You’re the best, Tanny! Thank you!” She rubs her cheek against the toy’s faded and tattered ‘fur’ and then snuggles him tight to her chest.

Frederick has seen his fair share of adventures; being carted all over Australia and Colorado by a much smaller and younger Millie, and his ‘koala napping’ in Mumbai five years ago. If he thinks long and hard enough about it, Tyler can still remember the terror of that initial night; the bedroom window open and an infant Addie screaming from the discomfort of the cool air. His instincts had immediately told him to fear the worst. That it wasn’t something as innocent and simple as one of Anil’s workers opening the window and forgetting to close it. And when that bear had shown up on the doorstep of the safe house in Dhaka, his worst nightmare had been in danger of coming true. Someone with a score to settle had gotten close enough to his daughter to potentially take her right from her bed; having to reach over her and likely coming in contact with her body. In all his years on the job and as many times as his own life had been in danger, he’d never felt fear quite like that. That chill of terror that seems to take over your entire body and settle into your bones. There was always a chance of someone tracking him down out of the need for revenge; a worry that his kids could be made a target as a way of breaking him. But that was the closest anyone had ever gotten.

He’d vowed to never let that happen again. And to kill anyone that posed even the slightest bit of threat.

The silence that ensues is a welcome change; a waitress bringing coffee for him and glasses of chocolate milk for the kids and then taking their orders. TJ, Declan and Tanner watching youtube videos on the latter’s Ipad while Millie and Alannah whisper and giggle at the Instagram posts they scroll through on Alannah’s phone. The littlest busy themselves with the baskets of crayons that the restaurant had provided; scribbling and doodling on the craft paper that covers the table. All in all, they’re good kids; polite and always minding their manners, careful not to make too much noise that will bother others around them, saving the majority of their arguments and insults for the street or at home. It can’t get wild; seven little humans all talking at once and vying for attention. Christmas morning is far the most chaotic; a living room full of presents and excited chattering and squeals of joy and excitement. It’s enough to take the sting out of the memories of his past. Seeing those cute faces light up and the tears of pure happiness over receiving a much sought after item and feeling those little arms wrap around your neck and the lips that press to your cheek; those tiny voices saying thank you and telling you how much they love you.

*****

“Daddy?” Addie breaks the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Will you please help me? Will you draw a kangaroo for me? I don’t know how.”

Selecting a crayon from the basket in the middle of the table, he tends to his daughter’s request. He’d discovered at a young age that not only COULD he draw, but that he was exceptionally good at it; his mother nurturing and feeding the talent and always encouraging him by buying his pencils and sketchbooks and constantly praising his work. It was something he had enjoyed just as much as surfing or spending time outdoors, but had quickly learned to keep a secret from his father. The old man had viewed anything even remotely related to the arts as ‘girly’ and ‘pathetic’; preferring his son to pick up more manly pursuits and drilling it into his head that a ‘real man’ didn’t create. After his mom had died, his father had gone through his room and not only trashed every piece of art tapped to the wall, but burnt every sketch book and pencil in the fire pit in the backyard.

He hadn’t picked up a pencil since. Until Millie had started showing a very keen eye and skilled hand and had asked for an area in the house to be turned into her own little studio. A loft added above the new garage; a place filled with paints and pencils and easels and canvases and anything else that she could possibly need. And spending time with her in that studio and nurturing and encouraging her talent had been a way of rediscovering his own. Using it as a form of escape and relaxation when life gets too hectic and stressful or his mental health feels as if it’s spiralling out of control.

“Daddy?”

“Addie?”

“If mummy didn’t do the same job as you a long time ago, how else would you have met her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe she would have come to Australia. Maybe we would have met that way. On the beach or something.”

“Would you have still liked her? If you met her that way?”

“Why wouldn’t I? She still would have been mummy. She still would have been the same person.”

“Do you think she would have liked you? If she met you a different way?”

“I think so. I hope she would have.”

“What would you have done? If you didn’t do that job?”

He shrugs. “Maybe I would have stayed in the military. Or become a fireman. Or done construction. Or built houses. Something where I could stay busy and use my hands.”

“I think you would have been a good policeman. You would have been really good at catching bad guys. I mean, that’s what you were doing in the first place. Just you weren’t a policeman. What do you think mummy would have done? If she had a different job?”

“I’m not sure. I think she would have made a really good teacher. Or a nurse.”

“Like Auntie Riley and Auntie Shaena?”

“Yup. Just like him. She’d probably work with kids though. I think your mum is meant to be around kids.”

“I think so too. She’s a really good mummy. She always plays with us and she even does dress up and makes up different names and voices for all my dolls. She’s never too busy; to have fun with us. And she gives really good cuddles and kisses too.”

“She’s an awesome mum. I definitely picked a good one to have kids with.”

“So did mummy. You guys make a good team. And you make cute kids.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, and presses a kiss to her temple. “Really, really, REALLY cute kids.”

“I bet she would have still liked you. If she met you a different way. I mean, you still would have been daddy. You still would have looked the same. You still would have had nice muscles.”

“Is that what mummy says she likes the best?”

“She says it’s third on her list.”

“What’s number one and two?”

“Your eyes and your smile. Your voice is number four and your butt is number five.”

“She didn’t say anything about my hands? That’s weird. For your mom.”

“Your hands were number six. And your forearms were number seven. I don’t understand that one. Mum says it’s hard to explain. Why she likes them so much. She said when she first met you, she was attracted to your face. That you had a kind of a sad face. In a beautiful way.”

“She said that?”

“Yep. She said that you had kind eyes. And that she liked how they crinkled when you smiled. That you smiled at her and you made your insides go all funny. What does that mean?”

He chuckles. “It’s nothing you need to know until you’re older. What else did she say?”

“Just that you were really good looking and she liked your haircut and your beard. And that you shared the house with a chicken. Is that true?”

“It is. I did have a chicken in the house.”

“Can we have a house chicken? When we get home can we get one?”

“No. Chickens stay outside now. No chickens in the house. They poop too much.”

“Not even if I let the chicken stay in my room?”

“Not even then. Sorry, Peanut.”

“Can I have a kitten?”

“I don’t like cats.”

“How can you not like cats? Cats are cute. They’re all fluffy and sweet and purr and stuff. How do you not like cats? Can I? Get one? For my birthday?”

“How about I talk to your mum about that? She gets the last say.”

“That’s ‘cause she wears the pants in the family.”

Tyler smirks. “Did she say that too?”

“Don’t deny it, daddy. You know mum's the boss. She just let’s you think you are. Everyone knows she rules the roost.”

“I’m going to have a talk with her later. Is this good enough? Good enough kangaroo?”

“Best kangaroo ever! Looks like Charlie. Do you think he misses us? I bet he does. I bet he’s sad that we’re not there. Because no one is giving him peanut butter sandwiches and lettuce. What if he’s mad at us? That we went away? What if he doesn’t come back? I don’t want him being mad at us.”

“I had a talk with him before we left. Told him we’d be back in a couple weeks. And that we’d give him extra lettuce when we got back. And peanut butter sandwiches.”

“Was he mad? That we were going away?”

“Nope. He was a little sad. Said he’d miss you the most. That you make the best peanut butter sandwiches.”

She tips her head back to look at him; a smile stretching from ear to ear and her dark eyes sparkling. “He did? He said that?”

“He did. He said ‘tell Addie she’s my favorite and I’ll miss her and her peanut butter sandwiches’. He said he’d be there when you got back. First thing in the next morning.”

“He’s a good little Joey. I hope he never gets tired of us and that when he grows up and has his own babies, he brings them to our house too. And then we can feed them all peanut butter sandwiches and lettuce.”

Smiling, he curls an arm around her waist and pulls her tighter into him, then presses a kiss to her cheek and then the side of her head. She’s so much like her mother; the short and petite build, the dark eyes and the beaming smile and the freckle splattered nose. And their personality is shared as well; both bubbly and light hearted and willing and eager to experience new things and meet new people. Out of all the kids, she’s the one he babies; by far the tiniest and the seemingly most fragile. But it’s the similarity to her mother that drives his need to protect and coddle her the most; reminding him of Esme and everything his wife had gone through during the entire McMann fiasco to make sure Addie was carried and brought into the world safely.

Silence one more falls on the top when the waitress returns with drink refills and their respective orders. And it isn’t until halfway through the meal when he notices Millie look up from her plate of food and towards the front door; eyes narrowing and a scowl capturing her lips. She reaches behind Declan and smacks TJ upside the head; the latter growling in protest, but then following his sister’s gaze when she nods in the direction of the door.

“What’s up with you two? What’s…?”

“It’s that lady,” Millie grumbles. “The one that came to the house looking for you yesterday.”

“That’s her?” TJ’s nose crinkles in disgust. “SHE had the nerve to shit talk mum? Oh hell no.”

Tyler makes the mistake of glancing over his shoulder; greeted by a broad smile and a wave as Natalie nudges her daughter in the direction of their booth. He inwardly lets loose a string of profanities. There’d already been enough drama caused over a simple and unassuming conversation at the park. The last thing he needs is someone...especially another woman...dropping by his house and getting too close and comfortable. The women at the soccer park and on the playground are bad enough. But at least they’re not showing up unannounced on his doorstep.

“Hey,” Natalie cheerfully greets. “Imagine meeting you here.”

“My dad’s not the only one here,” TJ responds first “You do see us, right?”

“Do you mind if we join you? If everyone shoves down just a bit…”

“We do mind,” Millie speaks up. “Very much. We’re here with our dad. It’s a family thing. We don’t even know you.”

“Amelia…” he stares at her pointedly. “...settle.”

“Dad, it’s quite obvious what and who she wants. Someone has to stick up for mum. She isn’t here to beat her ass herself.”

“I said settle. Relax. This doesn’t involve you.”

“Fine,” she huffs, and leans back against the leather of the booth and crosses her arms over her chest.

“This isn’t a good time,” he addresses Natalie. “She’s right. This IS a family thing.”

Smirking, the neighbour nods in Alannah’s direction.

“She’s as close to family as it gets. So if you don’t mind…”

“I stopped by yesterday. To thank you for being so nice at the park. Met your wife.”

“Yeah, she told me. She also told me you weren’t the friendliest. Something about making fun of how she looks?”

“I wasn’t making fun. I was merely critiquing.”

“You can keep your critiques to yourself. My wife looks amazing. Just the way she is. And really don’t think it was appropriate; you showing up like that. It was small talk. That’s it. I wasn’t trying to make it seem like anything more than that.”

“I thought we had a little...connection.”

“No. There was no connection. None. Whatsoever. I was being nice. That’s it. I’m married. And not the type of married that you’re probably used to. I’m married as in I’m not interested and nothing is ever going to happen.”

“Our dad doesn’t cheat,” TJ informs her. “And our mom is way better than you. Like, a hundred times better.”

“Tyler, stop. I can handle this. I know you’re protective of your mum, but…”

“I must have misread the signals.” Natalia gives a sheepish, apologetic smile. “The way you were giving them off and the way you were…”

“I wasn’t giving off any signals. I don’t play games like that. If I was interested, you’d know. And I’m not. Interested. I have a wife. That I love more than life itself. So thanks, but no thanks. Not gonna happen. EVER. And if you don’t mind, don’t come to my house. That was way out of line. I didn’t appreciate it. There was no need for that. Unless you just wanted to ruffle feathers.”

“I never meant to cause problems. My visit was taken way out of context. I just showed up to be friendly and neighbourly. That’s it.”

“Something tells me that’s bullshit. And I’d really like it if you didn’t come around. Like I said, I’m married. Happily. VERY happily. I don’t know what kind of married men you’re used to, but I’m not one of them. So if I could get back to lunch with my kids…”

“I’m sorry to have caused you any issues. Or to have wasted your time.”

He watches her as she goes; the tightly clenched jaw and the rigid shoulders and the over aggressive way she shoves her daughter in the direction of an empty table. It’s the behaviour of a woman that is used to getting what and WHO she wants. Who isn’t used to rejection -especially public- and can’t handle being put in her place.

“I don’t know about you, dad,” TJ says, as he turns around in his seat after watching Natalie’s dramatic exit. “But I don’t trust her. She’s definitely up to no good.”

Nodding slowly, he lifts his coffee cup to his lips and takes a long, slow sip. His instincts tell him the same thing; it isn’t the last he’s seen or heard from the new neighbour. He’s witnessed that kind of behaviour before. She’s cunning and manipulative; refusing to take no for an answer and doing whatever she can to wreak havoc as a response to being shot down. But he’s faced far greater challenges and threats. Nik had learned the hard way not to fuck with his family. Being ostracized and shunned for years until she was ready to make amends for the trouble she’d caused and she’d finally moved on with Anil; getting married and having children of her own and settling nicely into a repaired and much healthier relationship with both Tyler and Esme. And if Natalie has to suffer the same embarrassing fate, he has no qualms about dealing her that particular hand.

More than ready, willing, and able to protect and defend the life he has.

#Tyler Rake #Tyler Rake fan fiction #Extraction fan fiction

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carameloveskook · 4 years

Text

No Chances

- pairing: min yoongi x reader

- word count: 2.4k

-genre: angst

-summary: It’s been a couple of weeks since you decided to leave Yoongi for good after her came home drunk after having an affair with a random girl. In order to cope with your emotions, you and your best friend go to a party and end up leaving alone and heartbroken.

-author’s note: (I recovered it! Tumblr is just being annoying but that’s fine.) THIS IS A SEQUEL TO FLAWS, you can find it from my old masterlist ! In addition, I’m going to make this into a series. Hopefully you guys will like it!

UNEDITED

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“Come on hyung, just kiss her already! She’s cute and she likes you what is there to lose?” Jimin whined.

You laughed at his bluntness and reassured Yoongi that you both could go as slow as he wanted to.

“Slow relationships are for losers, just kiss the damn girl so I can go to bed knowing you are gonna get dicked down soon.” And with that Yoongi threw his mug at Jimin along with a few not-appropriate words until he left the to of you alone.

“Sorry about that.” The mint haired boy looked at you with an apologetic look. You giggled and placed a kiss on his cheek telling him that you loved the relationship he had with his friends.

“You’re beautiful you know that?” He smiled a little before taking a surprise photo of you two while he kissed your cheek.

“I’m gonna print this out so you can have a memory of this day so you can remember the first time I called you beautiful. And from this day forward that’s all your gonna hear from me. You are perfect.”

You looked at the polaroid in dismay and wondered what he was thinking about at that moment. The last time you saw of him was in the morning after you left the house for the rest of the night. You came in thinking he was at work and found him on the floor wearing the hoodie you stole from him a couple of months prior.

It was absolutely soul crushing to see him like that but you refrained from doing anything. As much as you loved Yoongi, you were more scared to get hurt again.

That’s why you decided to move back in with your best friend, Chanri. It’s been a couple of weeks since the big move, she volunteered to get everything since you were scared to see him. Sighing, you tore your eyes away from the photo and hid it underneath your bed inside your little box.

“I’m home!” Chanri sang throughout the halls.

You got up from your bed and slowly opened your bedroom door to reveal a smiling girl dressed in casual attire. She gave you a big hug like she always does before heading into her own room to get into more comfy clothes.

“How was your day Chi?” You said.

“You know that guy I’ve been talking about all week? Well, he invited us to his party this Saturday!” She squeaks excitedly. She was talking about Hoseok, some guy from her office who she was obsessed with.

“We have to go y/n! This could my chance with him, plus he also said his friends were pretty hot so you could finally get over that Daegu dude.” She smiled softly.

“I don’t know...I’ve gain a few pounds since then, I don’t want anyone staring at me.” You said, insecure as you stared into the mirror.

After the break up, you would just mope around the house and would only go out only when you really had to.

“Hey, you look beautiful.” Chanri stated.

“You’re only saying that because you love me.”

“Shut up you idiot, you are gorgeous and I’m not gonna stand here and let you doubt yourself. In fact, I’m running out here and tell the whole world I have the most amazing best friend!” She ran out of her room and into the hallway and out the door where you ran after her laughing.

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“Let’s go to the party y/n!!” Chanri whined.

You still were unsure about the whole party idea but seeing the way Chanri pouted her lips, you couldn’t say no to her. Especially when she was dying to see Hoseok outside of the workplace.

“Ok fine, but only for an hour and then I’m out.” You said, already regretting your choice.

A party wouldn't be that bad, plus you only had to stay for an hour. Maybe you could meet someone completely new there. You didn’t know Hoseok that well enough to know his friends but since Chanri was there you figured it wouldn’t be that bad.

Oh boy it was bad.

Only 15 minutes in and you were drunkly dancing alongside people you’ve never met. You and Chanri walked into the party and the smell of alcohol filled your nostrils. Hoseok came over and said hello and invited you two to hang out in the ‘VIP’ section to avoid getting caught between two sticky bodies.

“Wow, I never knew Hoseok’s parties were crazy popular.” You yelled since the music was basically at your ears.

“Neither did I! He was always so calm during work, I guess this is his way to release his crazy side.” Chanri responded. She looked towards Hoseok and towards you.

You nodded in approval and she smiled as she made her over to him. You were alone so you decided to head over to where the drinks were at to gain some confidence. 15 minutes later, you are grinding with one of Hoseok’s friends on the dance floor.

“You wanna get another drink?” He says, his hands wrap around your waist as he led you off the dance floor.

“Nah, I’m gonna find my friend.” You gave him a hazy smile and walked away.

The sea of bodies parted as you squeezed by to get out of the dance floor. You headed to where you and Chanri was sitting and find her on top of Hoseok drunkly kissing him. She didn’t notice you at all so you decided to walk around the area to find a quiet place to relax.

You went upstairs to get away from everyone and found yourself in a bedroom in which you assume was Hoseok's. After a little be of peace and quiet you felt yourself sober up.

You assumed that if Chanri and Hoseok was still in each other’s tongues, they would eventually be up here. So you figured to at least buy some condoms for them since you aren’t ready to be an aunt. It was the nice thing to do.

You got up from the bed and slowly walked towards the door. As you grab the door knob, it flung open making you jerk back before you get hit. You froze in shock.

It was Yoongi.

He seemed frustrated and didn’t notice you yet. You stood still in shock as you watch him grab a girl and push up against the wall. Both of their eyes were closed but the way they grind against each other showed the yearn to pleasure each other.

Yoongi broke the kiss and attacked her jawline which made her let out a moan. She opened her eyes and made eye contact with you. Immediately, she pushed Yoongi away and held your stare.

“What the hell-” The girl pointed at you and Yoongi turned around annoyed. Once he saw you, he stood there. Eyes wide and mouth open.

“y/n? What are you doing here?” His voice sounded surprised and his eyes expressed regret.

You didn’t know what to do but you definitely knew how you felt. Tears started to form once you realized that he already moved on to someone else while you’ve been crying for days.

He immediately went up to you to hug you but moved away from him. Before he could see you cry, you ran out of the room and didn’t stop until you were out of the door. You called for an Uber and hastily waited for it in front of Hoseok’s house.

You saw Yoongi kissing another girl against the wall. His mind clearly gone from you as his hands wondered around the girl’s skinny waist and her thick ass. Tears were coming out of your eyes as you stood there hopeless and alone.

You wanted to text Chanri but you were afraid of ruining her night so you didn’t and decided to text her tomorrow morning. All you wanted to do was go home and cry yourself to sleep like you have been since the break up.

“y/n!” His voice echoed around your head as footsteps grew closer.

You refused to turn and see him after catching him in the act, again.

“Please look at me.” You hear his voice but refuse to obey his words.

“y/n, I’m sorry you saw me like that again. I don’t know what happened to me, the first time was a mistake but tonight-my mind was just about you. Ever since that night I've been thinking about you and-” He began to ramble.

“You didn’t look like you were thinking about when you were grinding all over that girl.” You said quietly.

“I was thinking of you! I’ve missed you so much and I’ve been drinking more ever since then. Please, I just miss your voice, your laughter, your smile. I’ll do anything for your forgiveness. Nothing more nothing less.” He was begging, you knew because out of the corner of your eye, you saw him on his knees.

“Then do one thing Yoongi.” Just then your Uber arrived and was waiting for you. You went to it and wiped your tears, before you went inside you said:

“Leave me the fuck alone.”

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The next morning, you woke up to a wet pillow and a dozen notifications from Chanri and Hoseok. You didn’t know how to feel after last night.

“But-”

“But what, Yoongi? You already have someone else, why can’t you just me move on?” You sighed in frustration.

“I don’t want to end this.” He said.

“It’s been done Yoongi. After your first mistake and now I have more of reason to prove that this is over after what I saw 5 minutes ago.”

“I know but please, let me make it up to you. Hear me out, I know I made a mistake. I will do anything to have you back in my life. Anything.”

Yoongi looked pathetic, after kissing two girls and begging for your forgiveness and your affection. But you still felt bad for him, as long as you don’t open your heart to him again you wouldn’t get hurt.

“We can be friends, but that’s it. I hope you know that I’m never going to fall for you again.” And with that, you went inside your Uber and left him on his knees on the sidewalk.

Chanri was going to kill you for your decision. You opened your phone and texted her that you made it home safe and that you’ll pick her up in an hour.

You prepared breakfast for yourself and for Chanri when she gets home. A notification pops up from your phone.

Yoongi: good morning...I hope you got home safe.

Before you knew what you were doing, you replied immediately.

You: I’m home, thanks.

A couple minutes past by and you were growing ashamed at yourself for looking desperate. In need to distract yourself from your emotions, you grabbed the keys from your car and left your phone at home.

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You honked your horn outside of Hoseok’s house, within 15 minutes Chanri comes out of the house it what you assumed was Hoseok’s hoodie and his shorts.

She carried a big smile and hugged Hoseok before running up to your car.

“Oh my god Y/n, BEST. NIGHT. EVER!” She sunk herself into the car seat.

“Yeah, it was.” You said quietly.

“Why did you go home early? You could’ve told me and we would’ve left right then and there.” She said.

“I didn’t want to ruin your night that’s all.”

The two of you didn’t speak a word after that. You knew that Chanri was suspicious but didn’t want to pry. You appreciated it a lot.

Once you both got home and you reached for your phone to check if there was any notifications.

Missed Call: Yoongi

Your heart was beating fast in your chest. You had to calm down because you didn’t want to get hurt again. However, you can’t stop thinking about his voice and how looked last night.

You excused yourself from the living room and ran into your room before Chanri could say anything. Running into your room, you opened your phone and texted him.

You: Hey, sorry for not picking up your call.

He responded immediately.

Yoongi: No, it’s cool.

Yoongi: Do you wanna come over? Some of your stuff is still here.

Yoongi: I mean, I get it if you don’t tho 😅

You: Lol, I’ll come over tonight.

“Who are you texting?” Chanri looked over your shoulder to look but you locked your phone just in time.

You didn’t want to talk about Yoongi yet and you didn’t want her to lecture you for doing this. You knew that Yoongi was a shitty boyfriend but when you two were friends, it was nice. He was a great listener and he was brutally honest. You liked that about him, you hated when people sugarcoated things to make you feel better. It does the complete opposite for you.

“A co-worker, I think I left some paperwork on my desk. I’m gonna go over there tonight to pick it up.” You lied.

Chanri looked at you, she obviously saw through your stupid lie. She’s your best friend, she knows you more than anyone else. Thankfully, she didn’t pry about it and left your room.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, wondering what to wear. You didn’t want to look like a dump when you were at his place but you didn’t want to come in with a crop top and shorts either. You weren’t comfortable with them yet.

Your mind wondered back to that girl Yoongi hooked up with last night and the other one from a couple weeks ago. They had perfect bodies in your opinion, you weren’t like them and you knew that since he and his bulge liked them.

You tried to get rid of these thoughts but the more you did, the harder it was to overthink about it. Why did he do it? So much questions were lying in your mind.

That night, you decided to stay home.

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author’s notes: I’m writing again after a long ass hiatus! Thanks to an anon, I finally made time to finish this story so thank you! also part 2? I want to write more about what happened to y/n and yoongi!

#carameloveskook #bts x reader #bts smut #min yoongi #min yoongi angst #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #bangtan smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi cheating #yoongi angst

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