#its supposed to be like a sweet little comfort moment idk | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kentopedia · 3 months

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ BLAME IT ON THE BLACK STAR — hayakawa aki

summary . . . maybe aki’s in the wrong for all the mixed signals he sends you, but it’s your fault for always picking up the phone.

contents . . . f!reader, angst, complicated relationships, smoking, miscommunication, cunnilingus, unprotected sex, ambiguous ending, hurt/comfort i suppose — 5.6k

notes . . . this is my first time writing for aki so pls be nice i’m nervous hdjwjwk <33 i’m not all the way caught up w csm so it might be inaccurate idk

Aki calls you, sometimes, when he’s feeling lonely. You figure, by now, he must have your number memorized, with how frequently your phone ends up ringing.

Of course, you always pick up, knowing you shouldn’t, knowing it’ll just end up hurting. But you can’t help yourself, really. You’re incredibly weak for a man that you know will never commit his life to you. You learned that lesson a long time ago.

Still, you’re a fool who refuses to move on.

Instead, you stand, shivering in the cold in front of Aki’s door, waiting for him to answer it. The lights are off in the apartment — you have no idea where his new roommates are for the evening, but they clearly aren’t there. Aki wouldn’t have called you otherwise; you’re certain he doesn’t want anyone to know about the two of you, save for those that have known since the beginning.

Heavy footsteps pad across the floor, and then the lamp in the hallway flicks on, illuminating the threshold in a beam of yellow. The door unlatches, opening just a crack, as his blue eyes drift down to trail over you.

“You got here faster than I thought.”

“I’m freezing, Aki,” you say, pushing through the door. His palm falls away, rests at his sides. Its only eight o’clock, but he’s already in sweatpants, a loose sweatshirt hanging over his tall frame. Dark hair falls across his cheeks, still damp from his earlier shower.

“Sorry,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “I was in the bathroom.”

You don’t reply, and shrug your coat off instead, hanging it on the rack that is now full of jackets that don’t belong to him. But you’re barely able to get it onto the hook before Aki has a palm around your wrist, tugging you towards him, the smell of his body wash and shampoo lingering in a cloud around him.

A little welp of surprise leaves you as you spin around, nearly falling into his chest. Instead, you collide with his mouth, the heat already settling down on you as heavily as it always does when Aki is around.

He kisses you, long and hard, hungry for the taste of you, his head craned down to meet your height. For a moment, you let him. It’s sweet and familiar, all the things you’ve ever wanted.

In moments like these, you indulge in thoughts of a life where things are different. A life where Aki can greet you at the door, smile when you kiss him, instead of the pensive expression he always wears. A life where Aki doesn’t come home with new scars every few days, where he isn’t hell-bent on a goal you’re not sure he can ever achieve.

That dream of yours won’t ever become a reality, but it doesn’t stop you from savoring the taste of his mouth against your own — how much you’ve missed it, even when you shouldn’t.

When you’ve run out of air to breathe, you push him away, and Aki stands straight, blinking like he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong.

“Not even going to offer to make me dinner?” you ask, keeping him at a distance. Although you meant for it to sound playful, teasing, it comes off full of a bitter resentment. Your face is probably drawn up into a scowl, even if you can’t see it.

Aki blinks, rubbing his forearm. His lips part, then he shuts them, furrowing his eyebrows together. “You said you were cooking — over the phone, you said you’d already eaten.”

“Well, at least you remember that.”

Confusion spreads even further, tighter, stretching to every corner of his expression. Aki’s hands twitch listlessly at his side, just as his mouth does. “Are you upset with me?” he asks, and you know he’s smarter than that, that he might not be the most sensitive to others’ emotions, but he is certainly no fool when it comes to yours. “If you didn’t want to come over tonight, I wasn’t forcing you.”

A laugh almost escapes you — instead, you muster up a cool grimace. Like you aren’t going drop everything for Aki every time he says I don’t want to be alone tonight.

Really, it was laughable how tightly he had you in the palm of his hand, and you can’t fathom that he would think otherwise. You’ve always done whatever he needed; given him whatever he wanted.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital?” you ask finally, swallowing back your annoyance as you gesture towards the bandage around his arm. It’s wrapped up tight, but the bandages are fresh, still a starched white.

His eyebrows tighten further. The air around him changes, even though his expression doesn’t. “Who told you about that?”

“Himeno.”

Aki purses his lips. “I didn’t realize you two were friends now.”

You did laugh then, shaking your head as you make your way into the living room, looking for any subtle changes in his apartment. There are new pairs of shoes that certainly don’t belong to him, a sweatshirt that looks about two sizes too small.

“I wouldn’t really say we’re friends,” you shrug, not bothering to look at him. The air in the room is somehow off-putting, and you take it in like it’s the first you’d ever seen of the place. “But how else am I supposed to find out if you’re still alive?”

You give him a sad little smile, and slowly, the irritation seeps out of his face, his shoulders slumping. He looks tired, then — far too old for a man that is still so young.

“It wasn’t that serious. I’m fine now, aren’t I?” Aki gestures to his arm, flails it wildly, as if to prove it’s still working properly. “Just a scratch.”

“It is serious. It’s serious to me,” you say, narrowing your eyes, and though his tone is warmer, he doesn’t smile at you, not like he used to. He maintains a vague air of surprise, while dampening any emotion that could cloud over his lack of understanding. It annoys you to no end, that he won’t let you see him.“I’m always worried about you, idiot. Don’t act like you don’t know how I feel about you.”

Aki blinks, then draws his lips together in a thin line, shaking his head. Although you were pointedly avoiding each other’s gazes, you could feel the tension drawing you together like a cord.

God, you missed him every time you were apart. You went to your regular job, thought all day about the man who would never love you like you loved him, wondering if he was okay, if he’d pick up the phone and call you again next week. Or if, one day, it would be Himeno instead, telling you that you’d never see him again — or, god forbid, Makima, with her careless tone of authority. That thought alone haunts you even with your eyes open.

But for now, it’s still Aki who calls you, and every time, you are overwhelming relieved to hear the sound of his voice again. Heavy tears always drop down your cheeks as you dig the phone into your ear, wishing that it was his mouth there instead, and wishing that those pretty blue eyes still looked at you with the same sort of softness they once had.

“I told you…” Aki begins sharply, but then he trails off, finally meeting your gaze. His features pinch once more, melodramatic, as he scans the sadness that you could never hide in your expression. “Damn it.” Car lights flash over his face through the window as someone drives past the apartment complex. The darkness of the room becomes even more evident when they disappear.

“I know,” you say, resigned, as you watch him scrub his hands over his face, and inhale heavily. It’s hard for you to keep your emotions from getting the best of you. “You’ve reminded me — many times. I know this doesn’t mean we’re back together. I know, Aki.”

His jaw parts, lips faltering at the beginning of a phrase. Despite his tall frame, he falters, looking so small, as sadness filters into the eyes that shine a deep navy in the shade of the evening. Beside him his fingers twitch, curling up into his palm, before he takes two long strides towards you.

The mere second it takes him to get there passes without your memory, and your back hits the door to his bedroom, softly, as he looms over you, fingers brushing your cheeks.

A thousand times you’ve been in this position, and it’s so familiar that your hand reaches up instinctively, splaying across his chest. Aki’s breaths leave him, deeply, expanding through his lungs before he exhales them across your cheekbones, oxygen splitting at the bridge of your nose. “What’s wrong?” you ask quietly, blinking up at him from under your lashes.

“That’s not what I meant.” His voice comes out on a hoarse whisper.

“Hm?” You dig your fingers into his sweatshirt, the material thick and warm. “What did you mean?”

Tenderly, his thumb brushes across the hollows of your cheek, the sharp bone that juts out. Aki’s fingertips are so rough and calloused, but that familiarity brings a sob out of you, your hands springing up to grab his wrists. “That I’m not fooling anyone,” Aki says, swallowing, eyes roaming all over your face. “That I can’t stay away from you, no matter how hard I try.”

Your lips part, but your breath is stolen away by another kiss, blanketing your mouth, warm and with an emotion that you’re certain you can taste. It takes you less than a moment for you to close your eyes, to relax into him as always, melt into his familiarity. The taste of the cigarettes he smokes lingers on his tongue, seeping deep into your own lungs.

As he bumps his nose with your own, you reach up, run your fingers through his hair, untangling all the knots that have accumulated since his shower. At the same time, Aki palms at the door behind you, not bothering to look up as he fumbles for the door handle, slipping it open.

Aki always kisses you like it’s the last time he’ll ever do it, struggling to unglue you from himself. He kisses you like he knows he’s going to leave again, and it might be for the very last time.

It’s a sickening emotion to live with, but you’ve accepted it all the same.

You ignore the feelings that never leave you alone when you’re with Aki, and stumble backwards into the room, feet catching under you. Although you nearly fall, Aki catches you, arms heavy around your waist, large palm spreading across your lower back.

“You’re so pretty,” he says, nearly carrying you to his bed. The two of you latch so tightly onto the other, that you will surely go tumbling down if either of you makes the wrong move. “I’ve never met anyone as pretty as you.”

“Aki,” you mumble, shaking your head. “I don’t want to hear that.”

He stumbles, and you do fall onto the bed, then, his heavy body on top of you, landing with a thud. But he’s careful to catch himself, to tuck his arms into the space beside you, as he kisses across your cheeks, down your neck, to your chest.

“Why?” he asks into your skin, voice low and rough. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” his tone is dry, sarcastic. Aki’s fingers fumble with the zipper on your jeans, slipping your pants off faster than you can inhale a fresh set of air into your lungs. “Want me to prove it to you?”

Despite your lingering resentment, you crack a smile, shift your hips so he can pull your bottoms off completely. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll fall in love with me again?” you say off-handedly, running your hands along the edge of his shirt, before slipping cold fingers under it. His skin is hot there, abdomen soft, muscle just as lean as it was last week, but stronger than when you’d first met him.

Aki’s eyes soften. “Why would I be afraid of a thing like that?”

You don’t like the double meaning in his words, and you don’t want to read into it. Instead, you pull Aki back down to your mouth, hoping he’ll take and take from you, even though he’s always one to give. The one who calls you, who needs to be inside of you, but won’t worry about himself until you’ve come apart at least once.

“Feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” he says, pushing your thighs further apart, muttering the words against your lips. His fingers graze the outside of your panties, as you slowly begin to wet them with desire that burns hot in your stomach. “I missed you.”

You feel his smile curl as he kisses across your chest, around your collarbones, and you sit up far enough to slide your shirt off. Aki does the same — there are fresh scars on his body, healing wounds. You can’t look at them for too long, before grief rises up in you, mourning a man that is not yet dead.

“Whose fault is that?” you ask bitterly, pushing the top of his head to sink him to your thighs. Instead, he takes his time pressing his mouth around your belly, swirling his tongue just past your hips.

A sigh leaves you, and you sink deeper into the mattress, eyes blinking closed. He’s so slow, so deliberate with every movement, like he’s been waiting all of this time just to lose himself in you. Ridiculous, really, considering that he could have you at anytime, and he knows it.

You’d hate him for it, for stringing you along like this, but that would be hypocritical, really. You��re the fool that continues to play the game.

Aki ignores your passing comment, squeezing your thighs as his face drifts down your body. His hair brushes against your bare skin, still a bit damp, but so soft, the scent of his soap so familiar you could pick out the shampoo with your eyes closed.

“Want my fingers or my mouth first?” Aki whispers into the inside of your thigh, kissing the delicate skin there as he looks up at you from under thick, black lashes. They flutter over his cheekbones, the hollows of his eyes, and he’s so pretty… it’s no wonder you’re so far gone for him. “Since you’re in such a mood tonight, I’ll let you choose.”

There’s a tiny smirk on his face, and even though you’re about to answer, Aki takes it upon himself to kiss your cunt through your panties, the fabric sticking to your skin.

“A-aki,” you stutter, caught off-guard, fingers lacing through his hair, nails scratching against his scalp. “You didn’t give me a chance to answer.”

He drags his tongue up your clothed cunt, wetting it even further, so you can’t tell if you’re soaked from his spit or your own arousal. “I picked instead. Like the way you moan when my mouth’s on you,” he says off-handedly, and heat rushes to your cheeks as you stare at the ceiling, still so shy when it comes to his dirty mouth. “No one’s here,” Aki continues, words vibrating against the bone, puffs of air drifting around your sensitive area. “Want you to be loud.”

A tiny laugh escapes you, but it is quickly stolen by a whimper as he sucks your clit into his mouth through the cotton of your underwear, an old pair that was anything but sexy. Although, you’ve known Aki for so long, been with him for so long, there’s never any reason to try and impress him.

“Feels good,” you say, closing your eyes as you rest on the pillow. Aki pushes his tongue against your hole, teasing. His fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your thighs, keeping them from locking around his head as you search for more friction. Your chest rises and falls with the heat of your breathing, but Aki doesn’t let you rub yourself against his tongue, doesn’t let you move much, really. “Aki,” you whine, and though there are times when he doesn’t let you get your way, this isn’t one of them.

“So impatient,” he says cheekily, but he slips your panties to the side, your cunt vulnerable to the frigid winter air. You shiver, and he sinks his tongue into you completely, the heat of it warming you as he swirls it inside, spreading you further open with his fingers.

Your body grows hot all over when Aki thrusts his tongue in and out of your aching walls, your juices seeping onto his tongue. He moves slowly, savoring every moment that you’re in his bed, even as you try to arch into him, speed him up so that you can orgasm faster. He’s right: you are impatient, because it’s been days since you’ve last felt him inside of you, and nothing feels as good as Aki’s thick fingers and cock.

His nose bumps your clit as he drags his tongue in a thick stripe up your cunt. A moan leaves you, and without thinking, you jerk your hips up, forcing them towards his face. The sound from your chest is so lewd, and you’ll feel shy about how loud you were later, but all you can think about is his mouth on you.

Aki smiles, kisses the inside of your thigh. When he lifts his head, the ache inside you burns deeper, the sight of him with saliva and fluid dripping down his chin almost too much for you to handle. “Taste so good,” he hums, massaging the skin around your knees, hoisting your calves up over his shoulder blades. “Think you can cum from just my tongue, baby? You’re so pent up, I don’t think you can last much longer.”

You whimper, pressing your heels into his back as Aki’s tongue resumes lapping up your cunt, long and hot, massaging the most sensitive spots inside of you. You can tell he’s hard, aching as he shifts his hips awkwardly, trying not to press them in the bed.

Aki picks up his speed, head bobbing slightly as the heat insides of you builds; normally, you would’ve lasted longer, but you can’t remember the last time you’ve even touched yourself, and your most recent orgasm must have been with Aki.

You don’t tell him when you’re close, but he already knows, sucking harder on your clit as you finally come, body jerking into him, walls spasming. Your eyes squeeze shut, and his name leaves your lips much quieter than he would’ve liked.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Aki says, tugging off his sweatpants, the only layer between you and his cock. His dark hair is slightly mussed from your fingers, the way you’d pulled at him, tried to guide him where you wanted him, even if he already knew. “So easy for you to get me hard, you know that?” His cock is leaking at the tip, desperate for release, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “Just the thought of you spread out like this is enough.”

A desperate whine leaves you, and you reach behind, unclasping the straps of your bra, the last remaining garment between you and Aki. He grins at that, his canines so sharp, teeth a little crooked, but the prettiest smile you’d ever seen because you see it so rarely.

“Gonna play with those pretty tits while I fuck you, baby?”

“Fuck, Aki, please,” you groan, reaching for him, pulling his mouth to your own. You kiss him hard, hoping that he knows you love him, and hoping that he feels guilty about that fact. “Want you inside me. God, I need you so bad.”

He presses his forehead to your own, lining his cock up with your entrance, the head prodding at your gaping walls. You get so sensitive, even from just one orgasm, that you wince a little bit. But the uncomfortable feeling eases as he presses into you, kisses you sweetly.

“Fuck, fuck,” Aki groans, biting down hard on your shoulder. “God, you’re so wet, so warm. You feel so good around my cock, baby. Such a pretty girl for me.”

Your nails dig into his back as he slides, slowly, out of you, before he thrusts back in, still not rough enough for your liking. Aki’s hair falls around his face, his mouth parting just a bit, focus dilating his irises. His biceps flex as he holds himself off the bed, snapping his hips into your aching cunt.

“H-harder,” you mumble, trying not to shout, to moan too loudly into the open air of the evening. Aki’s walls are far too thin, and his neighbors know who you are. The last thing you want is for them to see you as Aki’s fuck-buddy that moans like a bitch in heat. “Please, sweetheart.”

Aki groans, a deep sound that reverberates all the way from his chest down to his stomach. The affectionate name twists something up in him, and Aki thrusts his hips faster, kisses your forehead, your cheeks, any part of your skin that he can get his mouth on. His hair tickles your jaw, nose nudging against your face as he mumbles into your skin, “so needy, aren’t you? I want to take my time with you, and you just want to get off.”

“Can’t help it, Aki,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you buck your hips upward. “God, you feel so good, I lo—”

You stop the words from leaving your mouth, but Aki already knows. He’s known it for a while now, and you should be embarrassed by the fact that you can’t let him go.

Wide blue eyes stare back at you, full of something you can’t define, but still so soft as he pulls away. He draws you closer, slides your legs around his hips before pinning your own to the bed with large, heavy palms. Aki’s built with all lean muscle, and he’s so tall — so much taller than you that it’s easy to forget because he treats you so gently. Still, he blankets your body, makes you feel small in the nicest way.

Because you know that even though he can never commit his love to you, he’d never let anything — human or devil — lay a finger on you. You love him, you love him, you love him.

Aki follows your wishes, sinks faster inside of you as you exhale heavily. Your nails dig into his back so tightly that you start to worry you’ll break the skin. But Aki loses himself in the feeling of you, panting into your chest as he moves his hips.

“F-fuck,” he mutters, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m not going to last long inside you like this. Maybe I should slow down—”

“No, no, I’m close,” you stumble over your words, meeting Aki’s intense eyes, a thousand emotions relayed in them as he blinks at you. “It’s okay.”

“God,” he mutters, whispers the word between you, even though you’re certain he hasn’t believed in him for a while, and you’re not sure you do either. “I don’t deserve you.”

You wonder if Aki meant to say that at all, so you let it go, let the words exist between you as if they were never there at all.

His palm guides it’s way across your stomach, the touch featherlight, before he reaches for your breast, thumb flicking across your nipple. The nail catches, and you moan, almost there once more. Aki’s cock hitting all the right places, so much better than your own fingers.

“Aki,” you say his name over and over, your mind going numb from thinking about him.

“I know,” Aki mutters against your lips, hot air ghosting across them on his exhale. “You’re okay. Let go for me, baby. Did so good for me, want you to cum on my cock.”

His voice, so deep and rough in your ears, sends you over the edge, and a sound forces its way up your throat as you clench down on him, your cunt spasming from your orgasm. It hits you harder than you’d been anticipating, legs squeezing around Aki’s hips as you dig your toes into the mattress.

“There we go,” Aki wipes your hair away from your face, kissing your temples, so gently that you think you might cry. It’s not fair for him to be so sweet, so loving when you know he’s going to kick you out of his apartment before the night is over. “My pretty girl. Shit,” Aki mumbles, cursing lowly before pulling out of you, quick, and spilling into his palm. It takes him less than a stroke down the length of his cock, the thick cum spurting out, falling onto your hips, beside you on the mattress.

It’s not your mess to clean, though, and you can’t bring yourself to care. Breathing heavily, you watch Aki fumble for something on his nightstand, before he gives up, wiping his wet hand on the already soiled bedsheets. Then, he collapses down onto his side, staring, watching your chest rise and fall.

“Aki,” you say, turning away from his eyes to stare at the ceiling, the cracked plaster, stained from water leaks. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Silence falls across the room, and you can’t bear to look at him, refusing to see the indifference on his face. There’s nothing, he says nothing, before sitting back up, shuffling through the nightstand once more.

The beams of streetlights sway against his silhouette, encased in a beautiful swirl of purple and navy hues. His hair seems an even darker curtain, coiling around his jaw as he hides from you, hides the emotion that was less than evident on his face.

You sigh, and flip back on your side.

Aki takes a few drags of the cigarette, puffing them into the stale air. It reeks, probably, in the tiny bedroom, but all you can smell is the tangy scent of Aki’s soap, the lavender that lingers on his skin, the cleanness of the linens that have been recently washed. This apartment, sometimes, feels more like home than your lonely one does, even though being with Aki is almost like being on your own, sometimes.

“Those things are going to kill you,” you say under your breath, still fascinated by the way the smoke draws deep into his lungs, puffs out in a cloud, relaxes him easily. His veiny palms flex, long, slender fingers holding the cigarette between them.

Aki doesn’t laugh, but it’s close to one, a snort almost, as he breathes again. “Not like I’ll be alive much longer, anyway.”

“You sound like Himeno.”

“Do I?”

You sniff, and scoot up against the wall, sitting beside him. Despite your argument, you take the cigarette from him, smoke it yourself, and place your lips around the exact place where Aki’s had been. He watches with the same rapt fascination, blinking slowly, before staring at the ceiling as you had before.

It’s Himeno he should be with now, really. Another Devil Hunter. A woman he can fuck without getting his feelings all mixed up, someone who probably understands him better than you do. He’s never loved her like he loved you, and she wouldn’t take offense to it either, you think.

But it’s you he calls instead. It’s you who is too weak to leave.

“I’m sorry,” Aki whispers.

“So am I.”

You reach across him, press the cigarette into the ashtray and drop what’s left of it amongst the other ends. Aki’s fingertips dance along your spine as you do so, and you wish he wouldn’t touch you, wish he’d just kick you out of the bed, toss you out of the apartment, spit at you like you weren’t anything but a whore.

Instead, he kisses your shoulder, draws you in close, curls his tall frame around your body, and drags you back down into the bed.

It hurts more than you want to admit, because this is what you want. You’d truly go the rest of your life, never have sex with him again, if he’d always hold you like you meant something to him.

“I need to go home,” you say, remembering that you still haven’t eaten dinner, that you’d left your things in disarray, your clothes unfolded on your bed. There was never a reason to before, because with Aki, you’d always go home, just before the last train. You’d be tucked into your bed that same evening after a nice shower. “Aki…”

“Stay.” He kisses your collarbone and shoulder again, throws his thigh over your own, and traps you against his body. “Please stay. You can wear that T-shirt of mine you like so much. I’ll make you breakfast. You can meet Power and Denji, and then I’ll take you home tomorrow morning.”

You swallow, damning your weak-willed heart for succumbing so easily. Fingers curl around his wrists as you bask in his embrace, how warm he is, despite normally running so cold. “Aki,” you whisper again, tears welling along your eyelashes. “You can’t do this to me. Please don’t do this to me.”

“Do what?” His voice is just as quiet as your own, and he’s still kissing you, holding you like you’re something precious. But he is surely not that stupid about your feelings, to how he has been tearing you apart for the past year, even though you let him.

You sniff, trying not to cry, never wanting to embarrass yourself, even if you have sobbed in his arms on numerous occasions. “You must know that I love you. I’ll never stop loving you. Even if I marry someone after you die, I’m certain your name will still be etched into the chains on my heart. I’m just a stupid, dumb girl.”

He says nothing, and you do cry, then, tears streaming down your face as you twist away, stare out the curtained window, the thin fabric fluttering from the heat that kicks on.

“Please don’t call me anymore. Just let me hurt for awhile, so I can get over you. You’re so selfish, so selfish, why can’t I just move on?” You bury your face in your hands, wipe your tears, try to fight against him as he pulls you into his strong chest, kisses the top of your head. Still, even then, even when you want to hate him, you’re putty in his heads, melting and craving the place in his arms that feels like home.

“I can’t let you go,” Aki says, wiping your tears. “Fuck, I can’t — I need you. Do you understand? I need you, and I know I’m a selfish piece of shit, but I don’t want you to move on.” He frowns, clenching his jaw, twisting his expression up. “I’ll be better.”

“Aki—”

“I’ll love you like you need, honey. I thought,” Aki scrubs his palm over his face, the other still stroking across your back. “I thought it’d make it easier, all this distance between us, to let you go. I can’t put you in danger, but I can’t stop loving you either.”

You inhale sharply, leaning your head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat, committing the harmony to your memory. Who knows how much longer it will be in there, how much longer Aki will allow it to exist before he destroys himself completely.

“Aki, you’ll never love me like I need, because you’ll always put your work first,” you say, squeezing your eyes shut. “I realized that a long time ago.”

He shifts, pushing you away so you could look each other in the eye, the astounding resoluteness in his irises. How serious he was about trying to be someone he was not. “I can try.”

You sob.

And you wish you could just say no; say no and walk away, forget his name, never answer the phone again, never call Himeno to check up and make sure he’s still breathing.

But you can’t — it’ll never be that easy.

Pushing him away, you rest your head back on the pillow, trying to make yourself comfortable as you turn your back to him. Perhaps, the morning will give you clarity. You’ll stay, but you’re not sure for how long.

“I’m tired.”

Aki curls against you, rests his arm around your hip, kisses your neck, cheek, temple. “Okay,” he relents, holding you close, chest pressed against your spine. “I meant what I said about breakfast. Maybe we can talk about it then?”

You want to say no, but you won’t. He’ll kiss you in the morning, and you’ll kiss him back. Settle on your knees and give him a blowjob while he’s still groggy, before slipping on his T-shirt, chattering off his ear as he makes you breakfast. You’ll probably even curl your arms around his stomach from behind, stand on you tiptoes to reach the space between his shoulder blades.

Power and Denji will come home at some point, and probably say something rude, as Aki says they do to everyone. Then you’ll go home, and you’ll still be in love with him, and Aki will forget the conversation even happened, because he’ll say anything to get you to stay.

Or, maybe, he’s being honest. Maybe he will love you like you want him to.

Less than likely.

“Okay, Aki,” you agree, too tired to argue or acknowledge the emptiness in your stomach. “We’ll talk about it in then.”

reblogs appreciated!! thank you for reading!

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mysicklove · 6 months

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𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆

DAY 24: SPREADER BAR

With: Zenitsu Agatsuma

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Sub! Zenitsu, gn! reader, crying, reader kinda is pushy but Zenitsu is fine with it, VERY sensitive Zenistu, overstimulation,

A/N: I hope i didn't take this too far. Reader is kinda pushier than my other fics, but idk. kinda nervous about this one for some reason. tbh, I'm not really liking any of my kinktober fics </3

Zenitsu squirms. Plain and simple. Kiss his cheek and he is giggling like a school girl, touch his chest and he is shrinking away from you with a whine, stroke his cock and he is accidentally closing his thighs together. It was just instinctual, he’s sensitive, and even if he likes the touch, he seems to struggle staying still and letting it happen.

So, you bought him a spreader bar. Zenitsu adores handjobs, but its always a pain to keep respreading his legs (You once slapped his thighs as a warning to keep them open, and he immediately sobbed and begged for forgiveness. You never slapped him again). It was good to take measures into your own hands.

But, he happened to be a little nervous about it.

“Y/NNNNN. Is this really necessary?” Zenitsu whines, his face pink from embarrassment at being completely bare in front of you. You were clicking on the cuffs to his ankles, while he lays against the headboard.

You kiss the inside of his knee, before moving up closer to him. “You know it is. How am I supposed to make you feel good if you keep moving away?”

He pouts and looks away. “Don’t mean to.”

“I know baby, you’re just so sensitive. I love that about you,” You coo, leaning forward to kiss his temple. You rest your hand on his abdomen, and he flinches, eyes flickering to yours out of nervousness.

He looks down at his open legs and covers his face. “So embarrassing.”

“Hmmm. It’s cute, legs spread like a little whore. Only for me, hmm?” He whines at the slight degradation, moving closer to you to seek comfort in your warmth. But of course, he agrees, slightly nodding and playing with his fingers.

Your hand moves down to his cock, and he lets out an airy breath. Immediately you hear the clanging of the cuffs as he tries to move. You grin, glad his thighs aren’t stopping your antics, and pump him once, and then twice. His hand grips onto your pants and he looks up at you with pleading eyes.

You continue, now going faster, and he keens, back slightly arching off the bed. He tries to keep his mouth shut, but it gets harder with every second. A minute goes by, and he is already spasming.

“F-Fuck slow down–You know I can’t!” He isn’t used to this, he usually gets a small break in the moments you take to pull away his legs. A chance for him to calm down, to not let his oversensitive body overwhelm him.

His legs are trembling and flexing as they try to force themselves together, but can’t. You continue your merciless pace, and his mouth hangs open, moans and whimpers falling with every second. Tears have already begun to well up. “I can’t. Wait, please! I can’t! Too much. It’s too much!”

You slightly slow your pace at his words and watch the way the pre drips down your hands. His thighs are shaking and he is twitching. Tears begin to spill over as he finally has a chance to catch his breath. You rub his face, brushing the drops away. “’m sensitive! Can’t keep up. You are going too fast, Y/N!” He sobs, and you coddle his face in apology, glancing back at the way his whole body seems to jerk when you reach the head of every slow stroke.

You coo at him, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear, as the spreader bar clanks with his movements. “But doesn’t it feel good, Zen? Your body is so reactive. You just need to relax and let it happen.”

He looks up at you with crocodile tears in his eyes and lets out a couple of sniffles. “Well, it did feel good. Just scary. Don’t got any control over myself,” He warbles, burying his face into your clothes for comfort.

You smile at him and begin to pick up the pace of your hand again. His hand tightens into a fist on your clothing. “Let me take care of you. I won’t let anything happen to you. Just gotta relax for me, yeah?”

A second goes by, and then two. “Mhmkay. Just, try to be gentle. Please?”

“Of course. Doing so well, ya know. Being such a good boy,” You praise, and he lets out a happy hum, soaking up the words.

You slowly make your way to your original pace, ignoring the way he jumps, or tries to hyperextend one of his legs at the feeling. He begins to pant, and he’s clutching at you desperately, trying to keep himself relaxed, but also grounded.

Eventually, you reach your original pace, and his knees are caving in. He wants to close his legs desperately, but he can’t, and his body is reacting immensely to the intense pleasure. “Fuck. Fuck. Its a lot. It’s too much!”

“How does it feel, Zenitsu?”

He thrashes around the sheets, crying again, but seeming to enjoy it more than before. He doesn’t look afraid, just simply letting it happen. “Good! Mhmmokay im okay. Just–Just hard. Cant….Think!”

The bed creaks from his sporadic movements, and you are even having trouble keeping your hands on him. His hips are turning from left to right, and his back is arching occasionally. His mouth is open again, and his eyes are hazy. “Can’t last. I can’t!”

The bar continues to rattle, and his legs continue to strain against it. You are even worried that he might break it from the force of his movements. “You can cum whenever you want, my love.”

He doesn’t respond, just nodding his head, with his eyes slightly rolled back. His hands can’t stay still, interchanging from clutching at you or the sheets, to holding onto his legs to try to help stop force against the bar.

With his upcoming orgasm, the pleasure becomes more intense, and he begins to sob. “Fuck. S-Sensitive. Oh god, feels weird! Gonna cum. Please please please! It’s too much again!”

“You already have my permission, Zen. Relax, let it out.” He nods into your clothing and clings onto you like a lifeline but listens.

He cums, and it’s much different than before. He can’t curl up into himself, as he usually does, but tries to anyways. His body goes stiffer than usual, and he lets out three high pitches, broken moans. He shuts his eyes and arches his back into you. The white liquid coats his stomach, but he can’t even feel it, instead focusing on riding out the waves.

He looks cute like this. It seems like it was his strongest orgasm in a while, and you are intrigued by it. Your hand slows down, and forces out the last couple of drops from the tip.

You accidentally overstimulate him, and his whole body jerks and he lets out a whimpering sound. You gulp and pull away, trying to think of other thoughts, because overstimulating Zenitsu may be adorable, but if he reacted the way he does with a handjob, you may kill the poor boy with anything more.

But he blinks at you, eyes red with tears. “Again?” He breathes, still twitching occasionally from the aftershock.

You gulp again, not sure if going again would kill him, or you.

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httpiastri · 8 months

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author's note: just a short & 110% self-indulgent birthday present to myself because i've never had a lover (let alone an oscar) wake me up on the morning of my birthday. if i don't get an f1/f2/f3 driver as a present tomorrow morning, then idk what to do... hope everyone has a lovely day!!<3

the sun sneaking in past your blinds brings a gentle warmth to your cheeks, but it's as though you're trapped in a dream's soft embrace, refusing to let you go. your bedroom bathes in a golden hue, but your eyelids remain heavy as if dreamland holds you firmly in its grasp.

the only thing bringing you out of your deep slumber is the way your bed dips when a someone sits down in it, along with the feeling of a soft hand on your cheek. however, you keep your eyes shut, turning to your side and nuzzling your face deeper into the pillow underneath you. a low chuckle reaches your ears and your heart flutters, a comforting warmth enveloping you at the familiar sound. a little smile reaches your lips.

"love..."

oscar's voice is barely above a whisper, and he leans down to let his lips press against your forehead for just a moment. you slowly open one eye to look at him, and the fuzzy sensation in your chest grows. his round cheeks are slightly blushed and his pretty smile stretches from ear to ear. looking at his soft features feels like coming home, knowing every single dip and curve and freckle because you’ve spent countless hours unintentionally memorizing them.

you shake your head before closing your eye again. “this isn’t real. i’m still sleeping.”

a laugh bubbles from his chest. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“there’s an angel in my bed,” you mumble, not able to stop yourself from grinning. “it can’t be real.”

“it’s a birthday miracle.” oscar pushes a few strands of hair out of your face. “open your eyes, sweetheart. i brought you something.”

your eyes meet his, and they’re full of something. warmth, adoration, love.

a light meets the corners of your eyes, and you unwillingly remove your eyes from oscar, taking in the tray he’s prepared.

"happy birthday, dear."

a tiny, white cake is placed on a plate right next to you, a bunch of candles messily pressed into it. your nose is met by the scent of the two cups of coffee standing next to it, still steaming hot.

“oscar…” you say, pulling yourself up to sit properly. “this is so sweet. you are so sweet.” you look over at him, your loving gaze being far more than enough to thank him.

“you need to make a wish,” he gestures toward the cake. “blow out the candles.”

you move the cake to sit between him and you, closing your eyes and making your wish; to always have him by your side.

the morning is spent much like many of your other mornings together, neither of you making a big deal of the day being special – because every day together is special.

mornings like these with him are unmatched. they’re spent chattering off about anything and everything, your plans for the day and the cute puppy you saw on tiktok the other day, while not forgetting to cut each other off with quick pecks to the other’s lips every once in a while. they’re spent nestled against his side, skin pressed to skin, heartbeats in perfect harmony. and this particular morning is also spent feeding each other cake, drawing smileys onto each other's cheeks with whipped cream and giggling at your masterpieces.

there’s no pressure, no stress, no worries. just a birthday girl and her lover; their fingers, bodies and hearts intertwined.

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todayisawthewhxlewxrld · 1 year

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“you can call me on my phone i’ll run to you, you won’t ever have to Sleep Alone”

“but if you want it you can have it, you can have me in full”

synopsis// the lines between platonic and romantic become even more blurred for you, if possible, when you realize your best friend truly would do anything for you.

pairing// maki zenin x gn!reader

word count// 1.8k

contents// ages arent specified but everyone is adults, angst if you squint maybe, ooc maki/soft maki, hurt/comfort?, mentions of nightmares

notes// YES THIS IS INSPIRED BY ANOTHER WATERPARKS SONG LMFAOOOO. i cannot be stopped but cmon its sleep alone!! sleep alone supremacy!! my fav!!! also also this was supposed to be wayyyy more light hearted n then it suddenly got kinda deep for a moment idk how that happened... anyways do ppl even read maki ff?

Nightmares were nothing new to you; you had them quite frequently, if not all the time, and your best friend had repeatedly told you to call her when they occurred, and she would be more than willing to come and comfort you. But how could you do that? You couldn't for two reasons.

The first being that your best friend was Maki, and she wasn't much of a touch person (or really a people person in general), which is all you wanted in those moments: to be held. and two, that your best friend was Maki. the girl you are quite literally in love with. Is it silly to be in love with the oh-so independent girl who demands to do things herself? Yes, very much so, and you know that considering you’re the exact opposite. Neither of which is a bad thing; it just makes things difficult— well it would if you two were dating, you think.

Tonight was just like any other night: you got yourself comfy in bed, scrolled through your phone for a few minutes before texting a sweet little goodnight to Maki, who quickly replied back, wishing you sweet dreams; it was just like any other night, nightmares included. which is why you woke up in a cold sweat, practically panting; the only thing illuminating your room was the moon.

Once you had slightly calmed down, you sat up and grabbed your phone. You flinched away from the bright screen until your eyes could adjust, finally seeing that it was around two a.m. You sighed as you unlocked your phone and called Maki. You constantly refused her offer of coming over at times like this, but you always accepted her offer of calling; you’d take what you could get— which could be quite literally everything you want, but alas, you’re not aware of that yet.

Maki hums over the line. “Hey, you ok?”

You hum back. “nightmare.”

Maki clears her throat. “I’ll call you back in, like, ten minutes, maybe, ok?”

You go wide-eyed at her statement, and you can feel your heart drop a bit. Were you bothering her? “I'm sorry, are you busy?”

“Yeah, something like that, but i promise we’ll talk ok?" Maki says goodbye almost too eagerly before hanging up.

You sigh and practically throw your phone back onto your side table as you flop back down in bed. You knew this day would come, where she’d get annoyed with how you called almost every night, with how you weren’t as self-sufficient as she was, and besides, what could she be doing at two in the morning? You don't know how long you lay there staring at your ceiling, feeling like you wanted the world to swallow you whole, but you know it's been awhile. You probably would have stayed like that until morning if it hadn't been for the knock on your front door bringing you back to your senses.

Your feet dragged as you begrudgingly made your way toward the door, opening it only to see Maki there with a slight tired smile on her face as she held a bag full of things you couldn't quite make out in one hand. Standing there in your pjs, you suddenly felt very vulnerable; yes, she's your best friend, but you didn't want her to see you like this, see you as a person? It would complicate things, complicate your feelings even further. Your face feels hot and blue as the two of you stand there in silence for a few moments.

“Are you gonna let me in?” she asks flatly with a slight tilt of her head.

You don't say anything; you just move out of the way and let her in, and she walks toward your room as if she'd been here before, which she hasn't.

“Maki, what are you doing here?” you ask in disbelief as she sits on your bed.

“Well, I had a feeling you’d call, and I don't know; I thought it would be better for you if I was actually here, right?” She speaks so softly to you, which isn't much of a surprise; Maki was softer in general with you than she was with other people, and it always leaves you with butterflies, it always leaves you with a hope you know you shouldn’t entertain for your own sanity.

“You could’ve told me,” you huff as you sit next to her on the bed.

Maki laughs slightly. “Why, so you can tell me not to come? Yeah, right," she says jokingly.

You hum in agreement; she’s right; you'd never willingly let her come. “So what’s in the bag?”

Maki looks at the bag in her hand briefly before placing it on your side table. “Just some snacks; I wasn’t really sure what we’d do when I got here…”

You hum sleepily; you weren’t sleepy a few seconds ago, so why now? Why does just being around Maki soothe you like a lullaby?

“Or we can lay down,“ she adds when she realizes how droopy your eyes are getting now.

You don't try to protest her suggestions; you're too tired at this point, and your sole wish is just to lay down with her. You nod and get up to turn off the light you had turned on earlier when you heard the door. While you're up, Maki gets herself comfortable on the far side of the bed, and you quickly join her. The two of you lay there stiffly on your backs, and although you were sleepy and happy in her presence, it's not enough; you need to feel her, be held by her.

“Maki?” you question meekly.

“Yeah?” she hums.

“You can totally say no, but, um, do you think you could hold me?” You ask nervously as you fidget with your hands.

Maki turns her head to look at you and doesn’t say anything; she just smiles sweetly at you while she lifts her arm, which you can see from your peripheral vision; she’s giving you access to lay on her. You look at her wide-eyed briefly before practically scrambling to get your head on her chest, your arm draping over her torso as she brings hers back down to rest on your back. You two lay still for a few moments before she starts to rub her hand up and down your back soothingly, an action she never thought would come naturally to her, yet here she is, and she has to say it might be the best feeling in the world—even better than proving her “family” wrong.

"Y/N, how come you’ve never let me come over before?” She asks out of the blue, fingers still trailing up and down your back, which, along with the question, sends shivers down your spine that you hope she can’t feel.

“I don’t know. I guess I’m embarrassed?” You murmur against her.

“Embarrassed?” she asks, clearly confused.

You groan slightly. “Haven’t you ever noticed how different we are?”

Maki tilts her head down slightly to look at you, eyes and eyebrows narrowing at you in confusion. “what?”

“You’re so self-sufficient, so independent, and I’m what? can’t go a night without a nightmare? need you there for me every night?” You respond back almost bitterly, disgusted by your own needs.

maki scoffs. "Y/N, you might be more “independent” than I am.”

“what? "How—I mean, look, you're here because of me!” you exclaim.

“Did you ask me to be here?” she asks.

you frown. “well no but-“

She cuts you off. “Have you ever asked me to be here?”

“no…” you reply quietly, unaware of where she’s going with this.

“exactly! You deal with all your shit by yourself, even when I’ve made it abundantly clear that I’m more than willing to be here for you. maybe you aren’t independent because you want to be, but you’re still independent,” she states matter-of-factly.

“Isn’t being independent a good thing?” You ask quietly, your voice shaking slightly.

She shrugs slightly, as much as she can with you on top of her. “To an extent, but you can be independent and still let me be here for you; they aren’t mutually exclusive.”

You nuzzle your face into her and sigh. This is nice—nicer than you could’ve ever expected. Cuddling with Maki while she rubs her hand up and down your spine, comforting you in more ways than one, is something you could only dream about, but your dreams don’t even come close to this; the real thing is so much better. and suddenly you're clutching her shirt as words fly out of your mouth faster than you can keep up.

“Maki, I like you,” you murmur against her considering your face is practically shoved into her, almost like you're trying to become one with her, which to be honest, you kinda are.

She stifles a laugh. “i know.”

You shake your head and reiterate, “No, I like you.”

She hums and repeats, “I know.”

You blink a few times before you abruptly lift your head to look at her. “wait what?”

She nods and smiles at you. “Oh yeah, I’ve known for a long time.”

“How?” you exclaim.

“You’re very obvious,” she replies nonchalantly.

“And- And you’re okay with it?” You ask nervously, this was not how you were expecting your night to go at all. You were expecting to just call Maki for a little bit until you inevitably felt like you were bothering her and hung up, but not before she tells you she’s more than willing to go over, but you say no, and then you’d stare out your window until you eventually fell back asleep and maybe or maybe not get woken back up from another nightmare. That’s how you were expecting this night to go.

“Of course I’m okay with it; I like you too, moron,” she replies back playfully.

You try to stop your mouth from dropping open, but to no avail; you’re absolutely shocked. You would have never guessed that she liked you back—okay, maybe you could considering how soft she was with you compared to everyone else, but that’s just how best friends are, right? Oh my god, are you seriously trying to convince yourself that she still sees you as just a friend when she just confessed otherwise? you’re insane.

Sometime while you were lost in thought, staring at Maki with your jaw dropped, she brought her free hand that wasn’t caressing your back up and shut your jaw for you, her hand on your face quickly bringing you back to earth.

You clear your throat and blink a few times before stumbling over your words, “So, uh, um, what now?”

She hums and pretends to think for a moment.

“Well, I think now you won’t ever have to sleep alone.”

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

“If you tell anyone about me cuddling you, I’ll kill you, by the way,” she adds on not even a few moments later.

You giggle before littering kisses on her face, speaking through the kisses, “Yeah, I know.”

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bumblebeesfromvenus · 7 months

Text

Paper rings 🩷

Jason Todd x singer!reader

A/N: I have to be honest, half of this is cat content ngl. This is based off the song by T. Swift :) Catdad!Jason is real because I say so. I geeked out and somehow love for greek mythology always find its way into my Jason fics idk

Enjoy!

~Fi 🪻

Prompt: reader is a singer who writes a song for Jason. How does he react?

Requested by: 🌙 anon

Warnings: fluff all around! Cute kitty moments, the concert parts may be all wrong idk what I'm doing lmao

Word count: 1.8k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

🎤°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°☁️°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°🎤

You let out a sigh as you got into your car. It had been a long day in the studio, recording new songs for your latest album. Your throat hurt, but you were happy with the progress you had made today. Starting the car, you made your way home to the apartment you shared with your boyfriend, Jason.

It was his birthday soon, and you'd planned a little surprise, not only for him but for your fans as well. You had written him a song, one that would be on your newest record. You smiled only thinking about it, you couldn't wait to pull off this surprise.

The show you were performing tomorrow in Gotham was no ordinary one. You'd called it the "Jazz on Special", which was just a a play on Jason. Your lovely, yet sometimes a little daft lover had not gotten the hint. Good.

He always attended your concerts, watching from backstage, giving his support. The moment you stepped off stage, he was immediately one you, showering you in compliments and kisses, telling you how proud he was of you.

So you figured this was the least you could do to show your appreciation for him. You wanted the whole world to know how much he actually meant to you, scream it into the crowds. So that's excatly what you were going to do.

Unlocking your apartment door, you stepped in, dropping your keys in the little dish right by the entrance. You could hear footsteps the minute the door closed. Jason came towards you, with a big smile and open arms. "How was your session today, Baby?" He asked, wrapping you in his strong and comforting arms. You snaked your arms around his waist and hid your face against his chest. "Was really good. My throat is sore though, I need some tea." You mumbled, letting a content sigh to be in his arms. He placed a kiss to the top of your head.

"I'll make you some, got get comfy, okay?" He said softly, stroking your hair. "Thanks, Jay," you replied, slipping from his embrace with smile. You went to put on a change of clothes. You did wear comfortable clothes to your recording sessions, but you had to dress it up at least little bit with some jewelry. It probably wouldn't be the best look to show up to work in your kitty PJs.

After having changed into said kitty PJs, you plopped down on the couch next to Jason and your cat, Nyx. She was a black stray with a white streak on her forehead. You'd picked her up from a local animal shelter, you just couldn't resist her cute little white paws that made her look like she wore socks and the fact that she matched Jason. It was supposed to be his Christmas gift one year, but you just couldn't keep her to yourself.

Although you got her for Jason, he insisted you name her, his reasoning being that she got her looks from dad so her name should be from mom. And yes, you do treat her like your child. You named her Nyx, after the greek goddess. She was the first, daughter of Chaos, night incarnate. You thought that it fit, with Jason being the protector of Gothams street at night. And in a way, you were grateful to her, to Mother Night, for holding Jason safely in her dark yet loving embrace.

"Nyxieeee!! There you are my sweet girl! I missed you SO much, yes I did," you beamed in a high pitched baby voice, scratching her face. You stole her off Jason's lap, making him huff. Taking her into your arms, you placed overly dramatic kisses on her tiny head. She didn't seem to mind, though, rubbing her cheeks against your hand and purring. Jason's face softened at the sight.

You looked so precious like this, the cat curled up in your arms as you cooed at her. You'd be a little embarrassed about your habit of talking to animals in a baby voice if Jason too, wasn't guilty of it as well. He put an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him. "You know, technically that's my cat," he said with a smirk on his face. You shot him a glare.

"Technically, you wouldn't have her without me and you asked me to be her mom. She's my child too, Jason!" You responded playfully. He threw his head back, laughing. "I guess she is, huh. Thank you for being the mother of my furrbaby." He sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "It's my absolute pleasure, baby."

You were getting sleepy, your eyes unvoluntarily fluttering shut ever so often. Nyx was curled up on your lap, peacefully snoozing away while Jason was intently watching whatever was playing on the TV. You took a sip of the tea Jason had so lovingly prepared for you. Setting the mug back down on the coffee table, your gaze shortly fell on Nyx and- wait

You had to do a double take. She had one of her small paws reached out towards Jason who was gently holding it and without paying much mind, softly stroking his thumb over it. Your heart was about to explode. Your lips were slightly parted and your eyes were wide, looking at Jason completely bewildered. He noticed your stare, turning his head towards you with furrowed brows.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He asked, the question slightly muffled by the hand that was supporting his head. "That's the cutest fucking thing I've ever seen," you mumbled, the shock pretty evident in your voice as you gestured to his huge hand that was ever so softly caressing Nyx's comparably tiny paw. His eyes softened.

"It is, isn't it? The first time she did it I was practically shaking from excitement," he laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest. Your brows shot together. "What do you mean 'the first time'?! Has she done this before? AND YOU NEVER TOLD ME?!" You yelled in disbelief. How dare he keep something so precious from you.

"Sorry, Baby."

"Unbelievable."

Today was the day. The day you would pour your heart out in front of Gotham. To say you were nervous would be an understatement. The blood in your veins was at boiling point and you were seconds away from a panic attack. Fiddling with the two colorful paper rings you had made for today, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. This was fine. You were fine. You've literally done this hundreds of times. But would Jason like it? God, you hoped he would.

Before you could overthink more, you heard your cue through your earpiece and it was showtime.

The 'normal' part of the concert went well, you performed some of your best songs, the crowd was amazing and it was overall an incredible night. You'd talked to your fans a little on stage between songs, receiving some nice little gifts here and there. Flowers, plushies as well as a bra was thrown on stage. Well that was a first. Not that you complained, you were rather flattered, actually.

It was nice to know that you had the ladies on your side. Jason, who was watching from backstage, almost keeled over with laughter when he saw you pick up the under garment, completely bewildered. He would never let you live this down.

"Alright, Gotham," you said breathlessly, "before our lovely night comes to an unfortunate end, I have prepared a little something. Not only for you, but also for my special someone, who might or might not be here today," cheering could be heard from the audience as you fixed your earpiece and chuckled breathlessly into the microphone.

Singing and jumping around stage sure was a work out.

"This is a song I've not shared publicly, as it is from my new album, but I thought I'd make a little exception for all of you and at the same time be the best girlfriend and make the coolest birthday present ever!" You laughed. The moment you mentioned that it was a new song the crowd absolutely lost their shit. You don't think any of your concerts have ever been this loud. Your eardrums nearly burst at the sheer volume of teenage girls screaming their souls out.

"Here's Paper rings. This is for you, Jason." You said with a smile on your face. The music started playing and it's like all your worries faded away. You'd been waiting for this moment for weeks, to finally share this song and your love for Jason. As you sang the lyrics, a compilation of cute and silly pictures of you and Jason ran over the huge screen behind you. Some were of you and Jason in a face mask, others were of Jason cuddling with Nyx. You occasionally glanced over to Jason who was doing his best to hold back his tears with the biggest smile on his face. Your heart swelled at the sight.

With the last bit of music fading out, you finished the song and bowed. The picture remaining on the screen was of you and Jason kissing with a sunset in the background. A heart was drawn around it. The minute the last words left your lips, Jason was storming on stage, showering you in kisses. He held you tightly against him, peppering kisses all over your face. His actions made you giggle into the microphone and the crowd went wild. The security guards were really struggling by this point.

You grabbed Jason's hand and slipped one of the two paper rings on his finger, pulling him in for a sweet kiss. The dam broke. There were happy tears rolling down his cheeks as he continued kissing you. Managing to pull away, you addressed your fans one last time. "Thank you, and Good Night, Gotham!"

You squealed when Jason unexpectedly picked you up bridal style and whisked you off stage, your head thrown back in laughter. It was safe to say you were on the front page of the Gotham Gazette the next day.

Jason was talking his heart out on the way home, talking about how much he loved it and how much he loved you. You were listening patiently, holding his hand while a big smile was plastered on your cheeks.

Now, you found yourself in the familiar spot on the couch, Jason's arms wrapped around you with little Nyx making biscuits on your thigh. "I have one question for you, though," you said, turning your head to Jason. "What is it?" He replied softly.

"How the fuck did you not get the play on your own name?"

"Oh, shut up." He pouted, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You let out a soft laugh.

"I love you too, Baby."

🎤°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°☁️°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°🎤

#bumblebeesfromvenus #jason todd x you #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood #batboys x reader

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

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Don't Go Where I Can't Find You

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 9 (during six year time jump) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT—fingering, grinding, sideways sex?? (idk what it's called lol), gentle sex (I think?), unprotected sex (DON'T TRY IT AT HOME), straight (?) people sex, swearing, angst ❧ Word Count: 9.5k

❧ Prompt: "Did you ever even love me?" from the Norman Reedus Whores Discord Prompt Challenge (more info here)

❧ Summary: Daryl hasn't been the same since losing Rick, and though he loves you, he needs to do what he thinks is right: try to find his friend, bring back his body, or die trying. Six months apart is too much to handle, he soon realizes, and something is calling him back home.

❧ A/N: Hiiii how y'all doin... um so like I tried to do angst, smut, and fluff all in one??? And I also tried to knock out several requests in one fell swoop. So I have sort of a bastardization of what @shariiina requested (tho they asked for a big fight and makeup sex which I don't think I quite nailed but I will definitely try do that more accurately in the future), as well as some anon requests for soft/gentle sex and also reader crying during sex. I was ALSO trying to fit in the prompt from my prompt challenge thingy that my Discord group is doing lol so there's a lot happening here. I just hope it turned out ok! I think this is a pretty sweet little story with a steamy lovemaking scene and a pinch of angst. Some cute/funny moments as well I think.

You weren’t there when the bridge fell, but you heard it, and you felt the ashes from the fire as they drifted over your face.

Daryl had shifted past you, not answering you as you asked what was going on. He had that thousand yard stare you’d seen before. You’d seen it when he lost Merle… When he lost Beth… When he lost Denise…

When you grabbed his face with your hands to look him in the eye, asking what on Earth had happened as tears drowned out his vision, you knew what happened. Context clues gave it away, and the ache in Michonne’s wailing as she emerged from behind Daryl, Maggie and Carol supporting her limp, writhing body.

In your bewilderment, you felt Daryl jerk himself from your grasp, retreating somewhere inside himself you couldn’t reach, somewhere you couldn’t follow. His grief was hostile territory for you, though his heart had become a world of comfort and familiarity the past few years.

This excursion was far more intense than what you’d seen from him before, though. Death was a fixture of everyday life for you and everyone else you knew, but Rick’s death was unprecedented. Nothing could compare to the grief in its wake, especially not for Daryl.

For as long as you could, you left him alone. The only reminder of his presence after that was the feeling of his body weight dipping on the other side of your bed. You were surprised he even tried to sleep next to you, but it was the one thing reminding you that he was there.

Only in the morning he’d be gone, a cool, silken expanse of olive green sheets where once his body lay, sprawled out with open arms trapping you so close to his chest for hours on end, until whatever responsibility he had took him away from you.

Now he seemed to leave on his own accord, you supposed. You weren’t sure where he’d gone during the day, but it wasn’t for lack of looking. You found yourself wandering the streets of Alexandria sometimes, in the back of your mind trying to locate a man who didn’t want to be found, but maybe he wanted you to look for him, you thought. You loved him enough to never stop looking.

Each night he slept less and less. After a while, you weren’t sure if the nights were getting colder from the changing season, or if the warmth of his body you usually relied on was getting further from you. One thing you were sure of—autumn was fading into winter, and for the first time since you found yourself in his arms, you were cold.

One morning when you woke up, you were sure he hadn’t been to bed at all the night before. His musky scent of pine and tobacco still lingered, but it was gradually becoming more faint, and your home was becoming a shell, all because he wasn’t in it.

“Daryl,” you mumbled against your pillow, then flipped over in a half-sleep state to face him where he’d be if he were there. After a month of not waking up next to him, you would’ve thought you’d grow used to it by now. You’d never get used to it, not when waking up next to him was all you had to look forward to.

The haze of sleep still deluding you, you reached out to touch him, the empty space of him. Where are you? you heard your inner voice speak. Daryl… come home.

Your eyes fluttered open with reluctance to see he wasn’t there. Again.

But you heard him moving downstairs, that creaking of the old floorboards underneath his feet. You felt his presence when you were awake enough to feel anything. He was home, and that was enough to get you out of bed that morning.

“Daryl?” you called out to him softly, voice still groggy from sleep. Your bare feet were cold against the hardwood floor as you tiptoed down the stairs and into the living room, where you saw Daryl’s worn grey backpack sat upon the couch, next to his crossbow.

“Daryl, are you here?”

Approaching footsteps from the kitchen preceded his appearance. He emerged with a few cans of green beans, and a tired, sleepless look upon his face.

You sighed in relief, happy that he was home instead of wherever he went to be alone. Your smile faded when you realized how exhausted he looked, and how red the whites of his eyes were.

You hadn’t been able to touch him in weeks, so when you took the cans out of his hands to place them on a nearby table, he seemed almost startled by your movement.

“You need sleep,” you said, tentatively coming closer and closer until you could rest your hands on his chest, gently moving them up and down against the scratchy fabric of his wool poncho. “Let’s lay down. You’re exhausted.”

His tenseness seemed to loosen under your touch, but his glassy eyes portrayed a different story. Something was off, something more than just grief.

“Sweetheart,” you said, while raising a hand to pin the unruly hairs behind his ears, “what’s wrong?”

He huffed, then removed your hands before turning to pick up the cans. “I’m leavin’,” he grumbled, his back turned towards you.

He moved to the couch to stuff the canned beans inside his pack, then zipped and buckled it tight. Next, he turned to the hallway, retrieving his quiver of bolts he usually used on trips outside the walls.

You didn’t want him to leave. He didn’t have any reason to go out there. As far as you were concerned, his mental health needed to recover from the loss of his best friend, his brother, before he could even think about going out there. Still, maybe it was what he needed, and maybe when he’d come back in a few days like he always did, he’d be more like himself. Maybe it was what he needed to heal.

“When will you be back?” you asked, as you always did.

He swallowed hard, averting his gaze, but not before he made incidental eye contact with you. You looked so innocent, so unaware of what he had planned. He couldn’t hide from it now. Weeks of milling over it in his addled brain had finally accumulated to this moment—telling you, the person he loved more than anything, that he didn’t know when he was coming back. He wasn’t even entirely sure where he was going.

“I was going to make that casserole you like for dinner,” you added. It was better than the silence. “But I’ll wait till you get back. Unless you’re coming back tonight?”

He shook his head. “Don’t wait for me.”

“I’ll always wait for you,” you said, with a soft laugh under your breath. “Just tell me when and I’ll save it for when you come home.”

He went silent again, opting to arm himself with his various knives and utility belts instead of answering you.

It wasn’t like him at all to ignore you, to avoid your touch, to avert his gaze. Maybe when you first met him three or four years ago, but not now. Not after two years of the greatest kind of intimacy two people could share with one another.

You tested the waters, coming closer to touch him and see if he’d recoil again. Your hands held his, disrupting him from looping his belt. A small smile spread across your face, and though part of it was forced, all of it was born out of love for him. He’d told you before that your smile could fix everything for him, so you hoped he meant it.

“Hey,” you said. “I love you, Tarzan.”

The corner of his lip quirked ever so slightly, but something held him back from returning your smile, even if you called him that little moniker you gave him years ago, to reflect the “wild man” he seemed to be. He always felt more at home in the wilderness, it seemed.

What you expected was for him to return the sentiment, to call you “Jane” as he usually did. He only chewed his bottom lip, and watched your hands as they fit perfectly in his.

He only shook his head, a gesture so foreign to you in this circumstance. He should’ve smiled, held your hands tighter, kiss you… Not loosen himself from your grasp, not take his undying warmth away as he stepped backwards, away from you.

Of course, it was hard to react that way. It wasn’t his instinct, and a part of you knew it, but it still hurt. He didn’t want to say what he was about to, or to do what he was about to do, but he had to. At least, he convinced himself that he had to.

“I’m goin’ away,” he said.

“I know.”

“No,” he replied. “I’m goin’ away, and I ain’t comin’ back till I find Rick.”

You stepped back subconsciously, so much so that you couldn’t feel the back of your legs hit the couch. Gravity forced you to sit on the edge, somewhere between disbelief and confusion. None of those words made any sense together, in that order in which he spoke them. It must’ve been an illusion, some trick of the mind orchestrated by the debilitating loneliness that had settled in your heart. To make matters worse, you feared this was just the beginning.

You tried to make sense of it, in a way that allowed the sense of it to become something else—something you could grasp. “Rick’s gone,” you said quietly. “How are you going to find him if he’s gone?”

He shook his head, as if he didn’t know the answer to that himself. He truly didn’t. “I’m gonna find him, dead or alive.”

“Alive?” you asked in bewilderment. “You… You think he’s alive?”

“Never found a body… Blast of the explosion coulda blown him somewhere nearby.”

“Daryl,” you said, “that’s…” Your words failed you then, as they often did when emotions took over. You couldn’t help it—you loved him, and Daryl never lied. If he said he wasn’t coming back, he wasn’t coming back. “You can’t leave.”

“I gotta.”

The lump in your throat was becoming impossible to swallow, and tried as you might, you couldn’t keep your voice from cracking under the pressure. Tears would soon follow, you were certain of it. Still, you were trying to delude yourself, to interpret Daryl’s straightforward words into something that didn’t tear you apart from the inside out.

“But you’ll be back soon,” you said, looking up at him with much more than just a hint of vulnerability in your face. “You’ll come back, even if you can’t find him?”

He lowered his head in silence, then finally replied: “I dunno.”

Your legs lifted you up to full height, a sudden burst of impatient energy seething through you.

“What does that mean?”

“Means I don’t know, (Y/N).”

You shook your head in bewilderment. “You can’t just leave. I mean, I understand you want to find him but… You can’t leave.”

He huffed through abnormally flared nostrils, indicating that he, too, was losing his patience. It wasn’t pure anger, though, in fact there was very little anger inside of him—it was more like dread, sorrow for the pain he would continue you putting you (and himself) through as he tried to justify his reasons for needing to leave, even though he couldn’t really think of any justifiable reason. It was irrational, impulsive, dangerous, inconsiderate… Most of all, he just wanted to get it over with; to rip off the bandage and try his best to ignore the sting.

“I ain’t tellin’ ya again,” he said, in that low, extra gravelly voice that told you he was close to a breaking point. “It’s settled.”

Your lips trembled as you tried to speak, with nothing but a barely audible whimper falling and fading into thin air. Your tears inevitably broke out, but they were muffled as you tried to maintain composure. You weren’t sure why—Daryl had seen you cry countless times, but this time was different. Maybe Daryl was leaving you because you cried so much, because you cared so much. You feared he found you pathetic or overbearing, maybe even annoying.

Of course, no such thing was true, but irrational fears born of insecurity and self-doubt got the better of you. The strain in your face was evident.

“I, uh, I don’t wanna leave,” he said.

“Then don’t!” you suddenly exclaimed, voice weak and faltering. You took a deep breath to calm yourself, then stepped forward tentatively as you approached him. “Or… let me go with you.”

“Nah,” he said quickly. “No way. You gotta stay here where it’s safe.”

“Daryl… I—I can’t. I need you. I love you… How could you say you’re leaving? Doesn’t what we have mean anything to you?”

You hated to ask him that, and you never would’ve unless you weren’t genuinely afraid he felt nothing for you anymore. Of course, it wasn’t that at all—it was the grief that overwhelmed him, called him to take Rick’s disappearance on his already burdened shoulders. In a sense, it had nothing to do with you, but you were the one who was going to suffer. You were the one who’d be left behind.

“You know it does,” he replied, this time voice much more firm and loud, as though he couldn’t even risk the thought of you not knowing that for sure. “This ain’t easy for me, but it’s eating me up inside. I at least gotta try.”

“Then let me help,” you begged, and somehow you’d gotten close enough to take his hands in yours. If you got desperate enough, you wouldn’t be surprised if you found yourself down on both knees before him. “Please. Just don’t leave me… Don’t—don’t go where I can’t find you.”

“Woman,” he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours. He must’ve known how you melted when he called you that, how easily you could give into him. “Don’t go lookin’ for me. I need you right here.”

You squeezed your eyes shut to flood your cheeks with tears. “I need you here,” you said. “I just don’t understand how you can do this after everything.”

You stepped back, gently yanking your hands from Daryl’s grasp until you stumbled back onto the sofa. You sat there staring straight through his face, which had sunk as the grim reality of his decision came shattering down upon him.

He wasn’t sure what was worse: being away from you indefinitely, or leaving you hurt like this.

As you held your head in your hands, you thought back to all the times Daryl had said he’d never leave you, in the same breath as the words “I love you.” Now that he was leaving you, without a return in sight unless he found Rick, you wondered if those words really meant anything.

“Did you ever even love me?” you asked sincerely.

It wasn’t that you wanted him to prove it, or to feel guilty for what he was doing, but you genuinely didn’t know anymore, and that uncertainty terrified you. You’d built your whole life around him the last few years. You’d made sacrifices, compromises, choices that were predicated on the belief that you were going to be with him forever. Was it over now? You had a feeling Daryl didn’t even know himself, all he knew was what he thought he needed to do, and that your relationship would have to hang in the balance until he accomplished his self-assigned task.

He swallowed hard, making sure he didn’t cry when he opened his mouth to speak. “I never stopped loving you,” he said. “I never will.”

That was six months ago now.

Six months since he’d seen you, six months since he’d held you, six months since he’d heard you say, “don’t go where I can’t find you.”

He hated that he’d done just that, and he quickly realized that his decision wouldn’t ease the pain of Rick’s disappearance.

All it did was render him lonely. Much more lonely than he’d ever felt in his life.

Still, he gave himself a mission, a responsibility to find Rick alive or dead. There were questions that needed to be answered, and Daryl didn’t leave any stone unturned.

He went where you couldn’t find him, though you didn’t try to find him. You were convinced he didn’t want you, that there was more to his leaving than just finding Rick. He didn’t love you anymore, and you still found yourself wondering if he ever did.

Around the same time he left, though, you noticed you couldn’t find one of your blouses—the cream colored peasant blouse with lace trim and cinched waist. You hadn’t worn it in some time, since it was one of Daryl’s favorites on you, but its disappearance drove you crazy, since you couldn’t think of where it had gone to.

That blouse had lived a more interesting life in the past six months than you had, as it lay neatly folded at the bottom of Daryl’s pack, the only thing he had to remember you by.

Perhaps he should’ve told you he took it, knowing you were rather sentimental about your clothing, but in the emotional minefield of that morning he left, he couldn’t bring himself to tell you. He spoke very little that day, and he regretted not telling you everything he wanted to.

So now, sitting beside a rocky creek in the last golden light of the late spring afternoon, only the gentle sound of trickling water and birds chirping sweetly in the trees, he thought of you.

He always thought of you, especially with the weather warming up, knowing how much you loved to wear your sundresses and sandals.

You’d frolic around the house, opening the windows to let in the soft, subtle spring breeze and the twinkling sound of the wind chimes. When he was home, you’d somehow get him to lay on the couch, your body snuggled up to his as you both fell asleep to those wind chimes, on an afternoon not unlike today.

He could practically taste the sweet and sour lemonade you squeezed fresh from the tree that had grown outside the walls, but hovered over just enough to allow ripe yellow lemons to fall on the shady grass below, waiting for you to pluck them up with a delicate hand in the safety of Alexandria.

In his hands, he held your blouse, absentmindedly caressing the fabric between his fingers. He had taken great care not to let the lifestyle he’d been living the last six months tarnish or tear the thin fabric, as he fully intended that someday he’d return it to you.

He didn’t know when that day would come, which was why he couldn’t promise you he’d return, but for weeks, he’d felt home calling back to him. In fact, he was sure it’d been calling to him since the moment he left, but now he allowed himself to hear it, those dainty chimes on the wind, drowning out the sound of the creek before him.

He didn’t take your blouse out of his pack often. There was no way he’d risk staining it with his filthy hands, or let the well-preserved, lingering scent of your perfume wear off, but lately he found himself sitting here, not far from his camp, holding that shirt.

Did you ever even love me? The phrase rang out in his head, echoing in the empty cathedral of his mind.

The fact you even had to question it devastated him beyond even his own comprehension. What was worse was how he left without really proving it, without actions to mirror his words.

I never stopped loving you, he’d said. I never will.

He’d played that scene out in his head with every possible chain of events, but nothing could stop him from remembering what he had said, and the fact that what he said simply wasn’t enough.

Stupid, he thought to himself. I’m so fuckin’ stupid.

Six months of searching for a missing man, and he had nothing to show for it but a few dead ends. If he hadn’t found him now, he was never going to find him. He had told himself he’d never stop looking, but something had struck him just then, when he milled over your words once more: don’t go where I can’t find you.

If he kept looking for Rick, he’d be lost, too. It was time to go home.

He walked longer than he had in some time, long enough for day to stretch into night. The guards at the gate nearly couldn’t recognize the hero of Alexandria, face shrouded by a tattered hood and smeared with several layers of dirt and blood.

Only the crossbow on his back gave away his identity, as well as the gruffness of his voice. The gate opened for him with a familiar rattle, and quickly the routine began to settle in once again, as though he’d never left.

As his aching feet carried him towards the house he once shared with you, he found himself wondering if you were still there, or if you’d moved to a smaller home. His question was answered when he spied your muddied yellow rain boots sitting outside the front door, and your hand painted welcome stone on the front step.

Thank goodness he’d never lost his house key—he kept it on a long string of twine so he could never not find it.

As he turned the key and pushed open the door, he was overwhelmed with the scent of something he vaguely remembered coming from the kitchen, where the oven was still warm from dinner that evening.

Hunger overwhelmed him, and made him instinctively head to the fridge, where a recognizable casserole dish was sitting on the top shelf, still warm.

He didn’t notice he let out an audible grunt of hunger before he bent over to pull the dish out and set it on the counter. Peeling back the tin foil, a smattering of potatoes, cheese, garlic, and probably a myriad of other spices and vegetables you’d thrown together, greeted him.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cheese, or anything moderately tasty, but it must’ve been before he left, certainly it was something you had made.

As he shoveled spoonfuls of lukewarm food into his mouth, he realized you had inadvertently made good on your promise: you had that casserole ready for him when he got back.

Turning to face the clock on the wall, he narrowed his eyes to see through the darkness: 10:37 PM.

You must’ve been asleep upstairs, and plopping himself onto that bed alongside you was just about the best possible thing he could think of right now. He trudged up the stairs, with each step careful not to wake you. He was worried about how you might react to his sudden appearance after so long away, but at the same time, he couldn’t wait to see you. He couldn’t think straight enough to work out the logistics. What if you woke up before he did, and what if you were terrified of his sudden presence? Perhaps you wouldn’t even want him in your house, after so long of not seeing him. Still, there was no indication that your relationship was over when he left. He assumed it was an unspoken agreement that if and when Daryl returned, you’d pick up right where you left off. He only hoped that was a correct assumption.

Sure enough, you were asleep, without the light of the lantern by your bedside table which you used to leave on for him to return. As such, he could hardly see you, your features just barely illuminated by the cool, indigo-tinted light of the moon streaming in through the window.

In the warmth of the night, you must’ve kicked off your blankets, as your sprawled out body was outlined only in the thin cover of the sheet. He smiled to himself, remembering how much of a restless sleeper you were, always tossing and turning so much that you’d end up tangled in the blankets, and sometimes he’d wake up with your hand dangling over his face. You were even more restless when he wasn’t there, since his arms holding you close to his body seemed to keep you from moving around too much. That, and the comfort he provided you with was enough to lull you into the deepest, most undisturbed sleep.

As he stripped himself of his vest and shirt, he remembered how filthy he was, covered in grime and tree sap and dried walker blood. He was ashamed to admit he hadn’t had a proper shower in weeks, and if you’d been with him, you would’ve made sure he bathed at least every other day, but he’d been alone for so long, left to his own devices, and his less than sanitary habits.

But a shower sounded almost as good as sleep, so he turned towards the bathroom door, gently closing it behind him as he entered to light the lantern next to the sink. Routine—it was all coming back to him. He had tried to maintain some semblance of normalcy out there in the woods, but he quickly learned that it was nearly impossible, what with the nomadic nature of his lifestyle, moving from camp to camp, never staying in one place for too long. As much as he was used to living like that, he hated it. It made him feel more like an animal than a human.

Tarzan, he remembered you calling him. Somewhere between man and beast. Right now, under the gentle stream of the warm water, as he struggled to comb his fingers through the large knots in his wild, disheveled hair, he never felt more like he was trying to regain his humanity, to wash the wilderness from his body.

He raised his hands to rub his face vigorously under the splashing water, and proceeded to further claw at the tangled clumps of chestnut waves on his head.

“Damnit,” he sighed under his breath. It was so much easier when you did it for him.

Remembering the existence of shampoo and conditioner, he turned to reach for the bottle of homemade “hair stuff,” as he called it. When he removed the cap, a fragrant burst of sweet pea and lemon awakened his senses. Oh, it was just like he remembered, just like the smell of your hair.

“(Y/N)...” he mumbled under his breath. “My girl.”

He’d missed lathering his hair with your little concoction, but even more than that, he missed the feeling of your fingers massaging his scalp, and the sound of your voice so close to his ear as you asked him about his day. Maybe you’d accidentally tug on his hair a little too hard as you tried to get out the knots, but he’d never complain. Not when even the pain felt so good.

Soon his head was drenched in white bubbles and soapy lather, cleansing his mop of brown hair and removing the blood and dirt that had somehow found their way into his wavy locks.

When he washed out the shampoo, he squeezed a hefty dollop of conditioner into his palm, and smoothed it through his less tangled hair to get the real stubborn knots out. It felt wonderful to finally be clean, but that was just his head. His body still needed tending to.

You must’ve still been getting those handmade bars of rose petal soap from the neighbors, since the sweet floral scent quickly wafted into his nostrils as he held it in his hands, rubbing it between them to make a thick lather.

As the conditioner settled in his hair, he dragged the soap languidly across his chest, paying extra attention to his underarms, which surely needed it.

His hands trailed down with the soap to his abdomen, circling around his navel. It’d been so long since his stomach felt full. His belly protruded more than usual, too, a sight that was welcome as he looked down to see the dirt washing off of him.

Next was, of course, his nether regions, where he’d felt an irresistible urge since the moment he saw you, even if he could hardly make out your face. He knew you were just as beautiful as ever, and that he wasn’t entirely sure how he could sleep in bed with you without getting lost in his lustful thoughts.

He could already feel the tingling sensation surge through him as he ran his soapy hand along his shaft, paying extra care to the tip and all the crevices.

“Shit,” he muttered, leaning his forehead against the tile wall. It had been so long since he touched himself. In fact, he was sure he never really had time to do it while he was out in the wilderness, constantly in danger.

That didn’t stop him from thinking of you, though. All those lonely nights of shallow, dreamless sleep without the softness of your body he’d gotten so accustomed to holding. Too often had he found himself reaching for empty air, or whispering your name in the haze of his exhaustion. On particularly desperate nights, he clung to your blouse, burying his head in the bundle of fabric like it was a burial shroud as he unzipped his pants to just barely touch himself over his underwear, but that was long ago, and lately he had to reserve his yearning to simple thoughts and memories, making it all so much more potent. He needed you.

Without entirely meaning to, he gripped tighter around himself as he made longer and more intentional strokes. Soon the soap in his other hand must’ve slipped from his grasp, and he leaned forward to catch himself before the sudden pleasure of his touching became too much to bear.

He flinched slightly as his forehead pressed against the cool wet tile of the shower wall, one hand outstretched above his head, the other now tugging harder and faster on his cock.

When he became more aware of his body and its movements, he slowed his pace, opting to thumb at his tip in gentle circles as he took a deep breath. He felt the water hitting his back, heard the heavy pitter patter of droplets hitting the tile below and pooling around his feet ever so slightly. Funny how one could feel so alive, so human, in such a simple way.

And yet, he could hardly bear to allow himself that simple, human pleasure of intimate touch. How could he do such a thing when he’d left you alone for six months? The shower could cleanse his body, but not his mind.

Still, he allowed his fingers to trace gently along the semi-hard surface of his shaft, as once your fingers had done the same. “I love you, Tarzan,” your voice echoed in a distant memory. He nudged his forehead in small circles against the tile, as if it could ever feel like your warm, soft body, curled up against his as he held you like he always used to. Why did he ever stop?

Always trying to find something. Always trying to save someone. Always the hero.

The longer the water ran, the more he returned to the reality of his situation, and the more he realized just how exhausted he really was.

He crept out of the bathroom slowly, careful to hold the lantern close to him so as not to wake you with its light. His sore legs seemed to carry him to the bed—his side of the bed, the one that you’d left deserted for six months, as if you knew all along this night would come, that someday he’d come back to you.

What on Earth was he thinking? He could’ve slept on the couch, he could’ve slept on the front porch, for crying out loud, but would it be so bad if he slept here, where he belonged? Weren’t you still his, anyway? Please, still be mine.

If you were awake, he’d beg you, but you weren’t awake, and he’d spent too long having one-sided conversations. He just needed sleep, or you, whichever one he could have. If it was only sleep, he would take that gladly.

Though it was tempting, he had to admit. Tempting to wake you up. Tempting to gently rub your shoulder until your eyes shot open as they always did, an old habit from living on the road. Tempting to engulf you like quicksand until your body melded with his, for the first time in so long. Tempting to rid you of that silky button-up nightshirt he immediately recognized on your body. It looked a little suffocating, a little too modest for his taste. The night was warm, stolid and heavy. Even that sheet seemed too hot, or maybe he just wanted to see your body, that pliant, supple flesh he had once held sensual dominion over.

In your sleep, you’d finally settled into a fetal position, curled up on your side, back facing him. As he set down the lantern on the bedside table, you stirred slightly, a small, breathy whimper escaping your lips unconsciously.

From the indirect light of the lantern, he could finally make out your features—a stinging pain rose up in his abdomen, as he’d almost forgotten how sweet you looked in your sleep. It was something out of a Renaissance painting or a pre-Raphaelite’s hazy daydream. Though he could only see your side profile from his vantage point, your lips parted so delicately as your head moved in adjustment against the softness of your pillow.

He was just about to settle into his side of the bed when he noticed a dark piece of fabric tangled between your arms as you held it close to your chest. Squinting, he lifted his knees to the bed and leaned over you to get a better look, and of course he knew what it was. It was his, after all.

Aw, sunshine, he thought, watching your fingers curl and indent the fabric of his old black t-shirt he used to sleep in on cold winter nights. He could even make out some of the holes, in the same old spots.

Overwhelmed with love, he let himself lay down as close to you as he could without waking you, he’d hoped. His arm’s old muscle memory immediately kicked in as it draped itself gently over your side, a movement he was quick to take back when he felt your body flinch and heard your breath hitch in unison.

Sleep hadn’t quite lost its hold over you as you mumbled out something incoherent. You’d felt his empty presence before, especially when his name echoed in the atmosphere of your dreams on a nightly basis. By morning, you wouldn’t remember them, only blurry glimpses and long lost sensations.

In your mind, you always knew that slight weight around your waist was nothing but a phantom limb, but in your heart, you’d always bring yourself to look over your shoulder at his side, where he never was. Until tonight.

When you lifted your gaze ever so slightly, you swore you saw a faint glimmer of familiar blue eyes nestled between dark strands of freshly rinsed hair, though it couldn’t be, you thought.

Still, in your transitory state between consciousness and sleep, you mumbled his name under your breath, almost unintelligibly: “Daryl…”

Though he looked much clearer than he usually did in your dreams, you were quick to dismiss the dimly lit, shadowy figure beside you as nothing more than a lovesick illusion, so you turned and buried your face in the shirt you’d been clinging to every night since Daryl left, not knowing that he was right there, only wanting to hear your voice again.

“Hey, Jane,” he said softly, then reached his hand out to touch your shoulder as you flinched yourself awake.

“Oh... my god,” you said groggily. “Daryl?”

His body didn’t give yours the chance to turn to face him. Instead, he aligned his chest snugly to your back, and tucked his arms tight around your sides until you were fully stuck in his grasp.

Rendered silent, you shook your head in disbelief as you felt his lips hungrily latch onto your exposed neck, while his hands slid along your side in a desperate attempt to remove the sheet draping your body.

He wasn’t entirely sure what had come over him, whether it was the sound of your voice or the feeling of the warmth radiating from your body, but all he knew was that he had no immediate desire to explain himself, or to excuse his actions, if they could ever even be excused, all he could say, repeated in breathless sweeps of his nearly tear-soaked voice, was: “I’m sorry.”

Between each apology, his lips found a new part of your skin to soak with saliva from his frantic open-mouthed kiss.

The more you felt his lips tremble against your heated skin, the more your heartbeat thundered in your chest, and the more you couldn’t care less if he was sorry or not—six months without him, without love, made you ravenous for touch, and his touch alone.

When your shock and relief at his presence subsided, you reached back to squeeze his hand as it grasped firmly onto the fabric of your nightshirt, nearly tearing it in his reckless desperation.

You had barely even seen his face, but you felt his body and his presence with you in the darkness of your room, so it was enough to know he was there, that he loved you enough to come back home to you. Whatever anger and confusion you had was still there, but what consumed you was the very essence of him, the only thing you’d wanted for the past six months.

“Mm, Tarzan,” you hummed sleepily, bringing his hand to your chest to cup your breast.

You felt his chest heave against your back, and the scent of your shampoo in his hair made you smile as you bit your lip, trying to hold back the happy tears and save them for later.

His hand squeezed your breast gently, but just enough to elicit a deep sigh from your lips. The erection growing in his underwear was becoming unavoidable, and that hardness pressed up against your bottom made you shiver in need. Your body squirmed and writhed so much he hissed between his teeth, burying his head in the crook of your neck, where his tongue traced circles under your ear.

Heat spread all through your body, until you were uncomfortable under the thin fabric of the sheet. With a huff, you kicked it off you, and Daryl’s hand didn’t waste a second to reach over your waist and palm at your clothed mound. You’d forgotten how strong he was—the pressure of his heavy hand pulled you even closer to him, and sent a small shockwave through your touch-starved body.

Both of you felt so delicate, like thin sheets of glass ready to shatter at the slightest touch. When his hand fondled you there again, you let out a sharp gasp as you reached down to hold your hand over his. “Yes…” you sighed. “Touch me… Don’t stop.”

He put more pressure on his palm as his fingers circled above your underwear, right over that sensitive little bundle of nerves he used to be so good at stimulating. His fingers were still just as good as they had once been—maybe even better from months of using them so much more than he had before. They were nimble and precise, yet somehow still heavy and bulky in shape. You’d never known such perfect fingers before, or such hands that could caress your body with the utmost love and respect.

Even in his desperation to touch you, to make love to you, he always held you like he could wait an eternity for you if he needed to—there was never any rush to his love, it was always slow and sweet, tender and soft. If you stopped him now, told him to get out of your house and to never see you again, there was no doubt in his mind that he’d respect your displeasure with him and his absence, but you didn’t pull away. Maybe a part of you wanted to, wanted to torture him and put him through the same pain you went through when he left, but something told you that he had gone through that same pain, too, that he never wanted to leave you, but he felt he had to.

You always knew he loved you, and here he was—proving it.

As his mouth sucked on the skin of your neck, you maneuvered his hand until his fingers slipped underneath the fabric and tickled your outer lips. His hand stilled for a moment, allowing you to use it to your liking. You used it to spread your lips, and encouraged his fingers to enter you slowly, all while you writhed purposefully against his palm, hitting your sensitive spot.

He groaned lowly in your ear as the feeling returned to his fingers, and he didn’t hesitate to dig deeper, two fingers curling up inside you until you whimpered in satisfaction. “Oh, God… Daryl.”

The weight of your leg being placed atop his as you tried to spread yourself out more caught him off guard, and his fingers dug deeper, sending you writhing and whimpering from the pressure. He felt your tightness squeezing all around his thick fingers, soaking them as you became more aroused.

“Don’t remember you bein’ this tight, sunshine,” he whispered into your ear between kisses. “You’re gonna feel so good around my cock.”

“Mm, put it in me,” you said, voice strained as your core rutted against his hand to increase the pressure. You bent the knee of your outstretched leg and grounded your foot on the bed, stretching your entrance as much as you could. “It’s been so long.”

He grunted in agreement as he pulled out his fingers to raise them to your clit once more, circling it in slow, rhythmic motions.

“I ain’t never stopped thinkin’ of you,” he said. “I missed you… God, I missed you, woman.”

You smiled and reached down to tug off your panties, while he moved to yank himself free from his own underwear.

Quickly you found yourself reaching back to grasp his hard shaft, pulling it to your folds where you pressed his tip to your clit. His chin pressed firmly to your shoulder, he watched you stroke his cock against your slit, which you dragged back and forth along his now aching shaft.

“Fuck,” he mumbled against your neck. “I ain’t gonna last long.”

“Me neither.”

His hips jutted forward and backward, gently rocking himself against you. Each movement hit your clit and forced a heavenly sigh from your lips. Daryl had tried with all the mental fortitude he had to recreate that sound in his head, but your voice was like honey, coated in sugar crystals and dripping from your succulent lips. He hadn’t known sweetness like you and your body for so long, and he knew with every surge of tingles that ran through him that he couldn’t keep himself from his release for too long.

You gasped when his cock entered you slowly, breaching your entrance and burying itself in your tightness. Now you could feel just how incredibly close you were to bliss—only a handful more minutes of touching and penetrating would relieve you of your need.

“Oh, God!” you cried out in a gasp. “I—I… Oh…”

You felt his cock remain still inside of you as he caught his breath, trying to pace himself. His hand massaged your breast with tender, circular movements, comforting you.

You bit your lip and shut your eyes tight as you writhed gently to feel more of the pressure of his tip on that tingly spot inside you.

“You all right?” he asked. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m fine… I think I just… forgot how big you are.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked with a smile, slightly more cocky than his usual one-sided smirk. He slowly pushed himself deeper, his cock curving more and more inside of you. The warm, confining walls of your body clenched around him on their own accord as they adjusted to his sizable thickness. Your body had been so used to it before, but now it was almost foreign, like your first time all over again.

“So… tight,” he grumbled against your shoulder. Letting go of your breast, he snaked his hand down to your clit, moving his fingers with increasingly fast pace. “Want you to come on me… Want ya to get this cock all soakin’ wet… like a good girl.”

You giggled under your breath. After all this time, you’d still never get used to Daryl’s dirty talk, but you loved it—the way his gruff, scratchy southern drawl made those sinful words sound so sweet and nearly angelic, yet with a deep, growling animalism in the pit of his stomach.

“Mm, don’t stop,” you sighed. “I’ll… come for you.”

“You better.”

His hand applied more pressure to your outside as his cock buried deeper inside you, going all the way until his hilt hit your bottom. You stretched your leg further behind him, allowing more room for the girth of his cock, though still you were so constrained around him, a feeling that had him gasping for air between heavy, breathless breaths.

“Fuck,” he muttered. “You feel so good.”

He moved as rhythmically as he could as he lay on his side, with your leg wrapped behind him and your bottom on his lower abdomen, causing him to strain. His feet anchored him, allowing his hips to thrust in steady, consistent movements. There was just enough pressure on you, just enough to get those shockwaves of bliss pumping through you as he got you closer to letting go.

The more he penetrated you, the more your body soaked him in arousal, allowing more comfort for your orgasm to soon take over. As his hand applied more pressure, you grinded yourself against his palm in a desperate attempt to get more of that sweet tingly feeling.

“Easy, girl,” he whispered in your ear. “It’s all right… I got ya… Your man’s got you. I’m home.”

“Daryl…” you whimpered shakily. “Oh, Daryl… Don’t you… ever leave me again.”

“I won’t. I got you, sunshine. Let me make you feel good, just like I used to.”

Even he was starting to crumble the closer you got to relief, and as he pleasured you, inside and out, you shut your eyes tight and felt the incoming surge of pleasure about to send shockwaves through you. Still, you weren’t quite there, and the agony of wanting that sweet feeling to send your body into unrestrained convulsions was so potent that you couldn’t stand it anymore. Your sensitive, supple body couldn’t stand it anymore.

Tears began to roll down your cheek, seeping out from between the tightly closed lids of your eyes and falling into the corners of your lips until the taste of salt melted onto your tongue.

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out, tears breaking your voice. “I need…”

“What do ya need?”

“I need to… to come.”

“You will.”

His hand gripped your mound hard and hit harder at your clit, sending you into a whimpering state of frantic writhing and panting. “Please…”

“I’m here… I got ya.”

The glass shattered when you least expected it, but it was so mind-numbingly good that you flung your head back onto his shoulder, while your body writhed and rocked back and forth in pleasure as each wave of bliss surged through you. “Yes!” you cried out. “Oh, yes… Oh, God…”

He held still inside of you as your walls clenched and squeezed around his aching cock, swollen and just about ready to burst inside you. Each pulse has him groaning against your scalp, where he’d buried his face in your hair. “Shit,” he groaned. “You’re gonna make me come, too.”

As your high subsided, you unfurled your leg and rolled more completely onto your side, careful not to let his cock go. He clung to you, his arms around your abdomen as he refused to release you from his grasp. He meant it when he said he wouldn’t leave again—he knew that from the moment he decided to come back home.

Without a word, he thrusted deep inside of you, moving at a more desperate pace. He kept his arms hugging around you, with his hand placed firmly on your stomach, where he felt his body meeting yours.

“I love you,” he panted in your ear. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, Daryl… Come inside me.”

He groaned just at the thought—the thought of filling you in the most sensual, intimate way possible, and watching it all trickle out, the proof of his love for you.

One more deep thrust and he felt the final pulse trail down his shaft, into the tip, and out into you, his moans and “ah’s” of relief sinking into your shoulder as his teeth dug a small imprint.

Your sigh of pleasure broke out into a breathy, delirious laugh, the feeling of his spend tickling you from the inside and heating you up with its warmth. He held you close by your waist as his hips kept thrusting, eager to drain every last drop inside of you.

He must’ve had so much built up inside of him, so much pent up need for release—his explosion never seemed to end. He was writhing against you, dragging heavy, open-mouthed kisses along the nape of your neck.

“Mm,” you sighed, rubbing your stomach as if you’d just eaten the best meal of your life. “You still got it, Tarzan.”

He blushed and leaned forward to kiss your cheek. “Ain’t nothin’ without you, Jane.”

You turned your head till your lips met his, for the first time in so long. His tongue snaked languidly into your mouth, and yours did the same, until you pulled away, with your tongue circling over his lips.

You studied his face in the dimness of the dark room, and that sorrowful look in his eyes reminded you of your own sadness, the one that had left such a bitter taste in your mouth for so long. Daryl might’ve filled you up with sweetness again, but you wouldn’t forget how he left you.

“You jerk,” you said, much to his surprise. “You left me… I thought you’d never come back.”

“I—I know,” he said, tangling his hand in your hair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” He trailed off, not sure what else to say. He never had a way with words, and he was hoping he’d proven it with his actions. “Shoulda never left. Shoulda stayed right here, with you.”

You shook your head and turned your body towards his, finally seeing him in full. It reminded you of long nights laying in bed together, talking endlessly until the sun came up, or until one of you fell asleep, usually you. Only now, instead of talking about the future, you spoke of the past, of the moment Daryl broke your heart, and his own, too.

You soon found your cheeks were soaked in tears, and his hand quickly moved to catch them. You’d cried so many times since he left, always wondering where he was, if he’d found Rick, if he was even alive. You yearned for his touch, for his thumb to brush away the tears and for his lips to kiss them away until there were no more tears left to cry.

Now, he was finally here, you just weren’t sure how to deal with it.

“I know… I know that you love me,” you said. “I know that. I just wish… I wish I would’ve wrapped myself around your ankle and made you stay.” You laughed through your tears, and he smiled, too, just a little, at the thought. “I think I loved you too much to do that… You weren’t happy. You did what you needed to do. I understand that. I mean, I didn’t like it, but I understood it.”

He shook his head. “Nah, don’t make excuses for me. You should be mad… Shoulda kicked me outta this bed.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, still tearful, but clouded now by happy tears, not sad ones. “I don’t think I could ever kick you out of bed… But I’ll tell you one thing.” You wrapped your wrists loosely around his neck, pulling him closer until his forehead touched yours. “Next time you leave like that, you might not have a warm bed, or a woman, waiting for you when you come back.”

He nodded seriously, his damp bangs tickling your nose as they fell into place. “Yes, ma’am. Don’t gotta worry about that, though. Told you, I ain’t ever leavin’ again.”

You sniffled and wiped your nose, giggling at your own emotional state. “Good. Sometimes, I felt like going out there, try to find you. Almost did once or twice. Michonne stopped me. But you know, I knew I wouldn’t be able to find you anyway.”

He sighed, the cruel sting of guilt stabbing him in the side. His chin lifted to rest on your head, as his hand moved to stroke your back, replacing your nightshirt to cover your bottom half. “You don’t belong out there,” he said. “Neither do I. I know that now. Just… had to try.”

“I know. Hero complex. I think that’s just one reason why I love you so much.”

You leaned up to kiss his forehead, nestling your nose in his scalp, where you got another good whiff of your shampoo. “Did you take a shower just for me?” you asked, slightly blushing at the idea. Of course, you knew he probably would’ve taken one anyway, but a part of you hoped that maybe, just maybe, he did it for you, knowing how much you loved him when he was clean.

He shrugged, his lips curling into a small, wry smirk. “Well, uh… Maybe. Knew you wouldn’t want me dirtying up the place.” He looked around the room, the light of the lantern behind him casting a shadow of your curved figure on the wall. Not much had changed at all since he left, other than a few of the trinkets he had brought back for you being on full display on your shared dresser. Absence really did make the heart grow even fonder, though you were always certain you couldn’t love Daryl anymore than you already did.

It reminded him of the shirt he had seen you clinging to as you slept, and how he, too, kept one of your shirts for just the same purpose. “You sleep with my shirt every night?” he asked with a slightly mischievous raised eyebrow.

You huffed. He knew the answer to that question, you could tell. “Don’t make fun,” you said. “I missed you. You’re important to me, and… sometimes, that shirt felt like all I had left of you.”

He swallowed back the lump in his throat that formed at your words, and he knew if you said anything like that again, his heart would break into a million pieces. Not only because he had put you through this, but because he knew the feeling, too. He knew the fear that he would never see you again, the uncertainty of it all.

“I, uh… I got your shirt, too.”

You furrowed your brow in confusion. “Huh?”

“Well, uh…” He cleared his throat. The slight embarrassment of his sentimentality made him flustered. “Ya know, I… mighta taken that white shirt with me.” Another pang of guilt knocked the wind out of him. He had taken one of your favorite shirts, for his own benefit, what kind of man was he? “I’m sorry. I shoulda asked, or—”

You laughed and squeezed him tight, nestling your head in his shoulder to kiss the junction of his neck. “That’s so sweet,” you said, choking up once again. “Sweetheart, do you have any idea how crazy I was, tearing this place apart looking for my blouse? I thought it just… grew legs and walked out of here, never to be seen again.”

“Well, I kept it in perfect condition,” he said. “Good as new. No stains, no rips, nothin’. Like it never left.”

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and comments of any kind are always appreciated!

✏ Taglist

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead smut #twd smut

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lynnlovesthestars · 4 months

Text

Serendipity.

Pairing: Astarion x OC (Lynn, changeling.)

Genre: fluff? idk not gonna lie..

Warnings: blood sucking, messy kisses?, my messy writing is a warning by itself.. honestly not much..

wc: 1.7k? fairly short but it was a blurb i accidentally wrote at 3 am.

summary: astarion was supposed to have a meal and ended up catching feelings- or something like that.

AN: as i said its messy, maybe i should have sent it to someone to beta read it but also my therapist told me to not give a shit n post.. anyways i hope it was somewhat good cause im low on motivation lately ahah!\

Taglist: @spacebarbarianweird @sessils

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Kofi

Lynn and Astarion had built a small feeding routine over the few weeks they had started traveling together, where the changeling would offer him blood a few times a week when he didn’t get injured.

The changeling didn't expect to be so affected by their little plan. It was supposed to be easy: feeding and leaving, nothing more and nothing less. So how did he end up in a weird tangle of emotions?

Lynn had forbidden himself from feeling anything but anger, yet he couldn't stop his heart from going batshit crazy whenever the two Were close.

That day Lynn had been feeling cold, as the lack of sun in the underdark would expect, the reason why, when Astarion looked for him that night, he had found the changeling in a cocoon of blankets reading a book.

“I hope you’ll share that novel with me.” He chuckled as he stepped closer, crouching next to the bundle of blankets that was Lynn.

The changeling had not heard him as he sneaked in, and it became obvious when he had jolted up. “Gods you scared me” He held a hand to his chest as he heavily panted.

“Sorry, my precious” He smiled.

Lynn didn't like to admit how Astarion’s sweet names affected him, they had been growing closer though he wished for more.

Anyway, it was in these moments, when silence would dawn on the two, that Astarion would feel the ghost of his heart fluttering, jumping to his throat as he noticed those little details about Lynn.

In that moment it was the faint line of a cut on his neck, as if he had been decapitated and sewn back together. He wanted to lean in, trace that scar and press his lips to it. Astarion mentally cursed himself at the thought, he had been so drawn to the changeling, that whenever he was in his mind he couldn’t help but derail to thoughts he was terrified of.

Nevertheless Lynn was the one that moved forward this silence.

“‘Starion, you are here for your dinner, right?” He asked softly as he eased down under the warmth of the blanket again.

“Uh, yeah” He rubbed the back of his head. “But if you don’t feel like it tonight we can-”

“No please, come in here..” He invited him under the blanket with a soft smile, a smile Lynn had not wasted for many before, lifting the bulde just enough he could slide in without dispersing too much heat. “It’s cold tonight, like this we will be warm” He murmured tenderly.

The elf swore he felt like everything faded away from around him as he was engulfed by the comfort of the duvet and Lynn’s closeness. It was so much and not enough at the same time.

“There you go” The changeling laid on his side to make more room for Astarion as he moved his hair to the side to expose the raw pinpricks on his neck.

“You’re sure? I don’t want to ruin your blanket accidentally” Astarion murmured as he gently traced the hollows where his fangs last bit.

Lynn couldn’t hide the goosebumps that settled on his skin as he nodded and as his usual he wrapped his arms around the elf’s waist, helping Astarion relax in the intimacy of the moment.

Neither of them knew how they did it, how the simple act of wrapping one’s arms around someone to bring them close, could ease any uncomfortable feeling that could go through them.

Lynn felt his throat suddenly going dry, as Astarion grazed Lynn’s neck with his lips, his face warmed up with a flush, and for a moment he was glad Astarion could not notice the blush.

It felt as if he wanted to leave a kiss against the pale skin, but just the remote thought would make him run.

It didn’t matter how many times he’d be cradled in his arms and felt the sting of the bite pierce through his body, Lynn would always feel his heart race when Astarion’s lips would cup the wound and would start draining him of his blood.

In that moment, he felt like everything was amplified tenfolds, the way Astarion delicately held his head and clutched to his hip, or the hushed sounds he’d let out as he fed. The blanket, he blamed the blanket for the heat that rushed through his body, for the incessant thrumming of his heart.

He felt his body go through so much: he would feel heavy while simultaneously feeling lightheaded, he would feel soft while feeling rough, he’d feel like he was finally breathing while also being breathless.

Astarion wanted to be slow, tender, let the sweetness of the changeling’s blood rush slowly against his tongue, and get lost in the intrinsically private moment.

His arms kept the body from slipping away, as if he was terrified Lynn would walk away from the embrace. Not from the feeding, but from Astarion’s soft clutch, afraid of him.

Lynn hummed as Astarion tongue quickly lapped at the wound, collecting the blood that was still spilling out.

The two were breathless, forehead pressed against each other, still dazed by the exchange. They wanted to blame the closeness or the blanket that was shielding them, but that would have been lying to themselves.

Astarion’s fingers were still laced in Lynn’s hair, while Lynn’s hands now rested on Astarion’s cheeks, gently caressing the skin of the elf.

Of all the times they laid like that, this moment was when he realized how soft Lynn’s hair were, or how warm and calming his breath against his cold skin felt, or how delicate the touch of the changeling could be. He could feel his breath still affected by the softness of each other’s touch.

It was one of those moments where one would hope they would be sane enough to read each other’s eyes, to catch that feeling that was juggling between them, or they could read each other’s mind, cause they wondered if their lips would taste just like how they imagined.

They didn’t even speak, it was astounding how the two didn’t want to let go of the other.

Lynn had been the one to find the courage, he gently pulled him closer, tangling his fingers in his curls as he crashed their lips together.

On his lips he tasted what divinity felt like, as Astarion's grip became ironclad on his waist.

Their kiss was breathless, desperate as they couldn't let go of each other. When one would take a moment to breathe, the other would itch to close the distance again, lingering close until their lips were not tangled again.

If the whole camp would have been silent, the only sound that would have reverberated would have been their breathy pleas.

“Don't go” Lynn begged as he lingered close, earning another kiss.

This time Astarion was tender, he caressed Lynn’s cheek as he eased. His usually taught body became nothing more than gelatin as he pressed himself against him.

“Not going anywhere” He murmured as he kissed him again. Their lips teased, sucked, clasped as they desperately clung to each other. They became one as the night swayed between sighs and caresses. Their clothes were long forgotten as they laid forehead to forehead, cradled against each other as they let their tongues do the talking for them.

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lesbiannancytruther · 2 years

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my love for comphet lesbian nancy is SO STRONG like probably one of my favorite headcanons ever

in a lot of fic/posts robin is nancy’s ‘awakening’ to being queer and while that’s cute i think a diff path is more interesting

nancy knowing that she’s different (or in her mind, something is wrong with her) from a young age, hearing that the way she feels isn’t normal, it’s bad

throwing everything she has into the first boy that doesn’t make her skin crawl, that’s everything she’s supposed to want and more, and it feels good to be what she’s supposed to be that she takes it as confirmation that she’s not what she feared

and then her best friend dies, and any satisfaction she got is gone, because none of that matters when barb, who mattered to her in ways steve could never match up to, is gone.

steve doesn’t work, he physically can not work in her mind anymore when he resembles everything that nancy feels got barb killed, but its too hard to imagine he never worked in the first place, and she finds herself falling into her relationship with jonathan

this time is different, she’s sure of it, he gets her, in a way that steve didn’t. he sees that she’s different, and maybe she really is different in the way he sees her, and that he accepts her for it, and they get along. she loves jonathan, she knows that, in the moments with him she has an unwavering friend

it takes her too long to come to terms with the fact that she loves jonathan, but not in the way she wants to, not in the way she needs to. every time she pictures her future, what she really wants, jonathan isn’t there. she never warms up to the idea of marrying him or having a family with him; she wants what she has with him forever, this camaraderie, and the physical affection they share is what it is. it’s simple.

she does not truly see, or at the very least does not accept what she knows to be, the root of problem until she meets robin buckley, who she finds herself melting into long after it’s too late to separate herself for good.

robin buckley reintroduces nancy to fire. steve is sweet, jonathan is soft, but robin gives nancy heat. talking to her, every little thing makes nancy feel, it captures her. she’s never bored, even for a second, she’s either annoyed, or excited, or amused, or enamored, because robin is unlike anything she’s ever met.

when robin looks at her a certain way, or stands close to her, or holds her hand, everything is amplified. contact with jonathan is sweet, its comforting, but contact with robin is like a live wire. kissing jonathan is nice, but she never feels the urge to initiate, she’s never left wanting more. with robin, nancy looks at her lips often, wonders what the press of robin against her would feel like, and she’s left wanting for once.

when she finally asks, she gets what she wants, and its more than anything she’s ever imagined, anything she ever thought she could get from love and lust. nancy finds desire and real love in robin buckley, and when she does she finds she could never ask for anything else.

idk just a thought i had nbd❤️‍🔥

#stranger things #nancy wheeler #lesbian!nancy #robin buckley #ronance #steve harrington #jonathan byers #barb holland #…#bancy #??

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secretagentsociety · 1 year

Text

Writing ideas pt 4?3?idk

Sumary : a yandere roommate who's obsessed with your best friend,one day you find his shrine dedicated to her,promising to help him capture her heart you start helping him around,but the plan changes halfway

tw : yandere nonsense,little angst(if you squint enough) and comfort,fluff

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When he first accepted your help he never thought it'd end up like this,he always thought you're a thron on his side afterall you're one of the closest person to his darling and he hated it but since you're helping him,he tolerates you

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So when does this feeling starts? Why is it now that he's standing here with his supposed 'darling' Infront of him confessing being a blushing mess,why isn't it making him happy?,why is it he find himself wishing in her stead was you instead ?

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"so did you accept her confession?"

"...."

"nah who am I kidding, you're like crazzzeee for her,ofcourse you d-"

"I didn't"

hearing that you almost dropped your mug your brows forrow in together as you sat right besides him putting an arm over his shoulder as means of comfort,subconsciously he leaned in closer taking a deep breath

"hey... something wrong?" You asked

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he tried,he really tried to like her back like he used to but nothing worked!,and he's frustrated in himself, he's supposed to worship her!love her with all his heart and only have her only!,for gods sake he's been obsessed with her for years!! So why?! Why?why?why?! can't he just embrace her like he did with you?!

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This is it... tonight's the night he will finally set everything back to it's rightful course,he stood at the end of your bed knife at hand just staring at you,his hand trembled a little his face showed disgust yet despite that his heart couldn't help but swell up in adoration this feeling....he know it oh so well and he hated it

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He stood there in the rain with an umbrella at hand Infront of him is his 'darling' she stared at him smiling, shouldn't he be happy with this? it's everything he wanted,like the tale his mother told him about on how she and his father confessed,they were drenched in the rain kissing each other like there's no tomorrow this is the exact perfect time for him to finally in your words 'woo her'

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You sighed staring outside of the window with a book at hand, it's a bit sad if you think about it,helping your crush get with your best friend,you cursed yourself right at this moment,tonight is the night as he said it where he will finally get his 'darling' to accept him,"well atleast the sunset was beautifu-"

"Y/N!!" you heard from outside

shocked you stopped mid sentence eyes widending as you stared outside the window

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The door slammed close behind you as you ran towards him drenched in the rain

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HER-"

"am I too late?!" he asked

"wha-?"

"I heard you say the thing!"

"what thing?!"

"sunset thing!"

"how?!!"

"i-its not important!am I?!"

"um no!I guess!"

you could barely hear his voice from the heavy rain,why were you standing here in his arm?why is he here?what happened?!

"Why are y-hmp!!"

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He woke up in the morning staring at his favourite view,your peaceful sleeping face as you softly hugged him,god he could never get tired of the view

kiss.

"wake up"

"five more minutes" you groaned

Kiss.

"my sweet dew drop I know you're tired but you have to wake up"

you groaned rolling over to the other side only to see the face of your child,they stood at the edge of the bed "wake up" they whispered

groaning again you rolled back,only to be bothered by your husband "fine!fine!fine!" You said throwing your arms up "I'm up, I'm up"

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wow a full one shot with decisive ending?how cash money of me to do this

#yandere x willing reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #tw yandere #fluff fic #angst with comfort

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whumpcloud · 1 year

Text

tiny lil darling snippet idk what to call it but have it <3

content: pet whump, very direct threat of noncon (doesn't happen), dubcon kissing, it as a pronoun, drinking

"D-Darling…"

Darling knows its purpose is to comfort. But it still feels so uncomfortable to see Master panicking. Master is so calm and collected most of the time that it somehow manages to throw Darling off, even though it was made for this.

"It's okay, Master," Darling soothes, climbing into Master's lap. Master clutches it tightly, and it does nothing but press into Master's chest and gently nuzzle his neck. "I'm here. Tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Master gasps. "N-Nothing's wrong, I'm… just…"

"Then it's okay not to speak," Darling whispers, lifting a hand to run it through Master's hair. "You're home, I'm with you. Everything's okay, Master."

Master shudders, and leans back into Darling's touch. It's comforting, just like it's supposed to be.

"Darling…" Master mumbles. "I love you…"

"I love you too, Master," Darling replies. Master never tells it he loves it unless he's drunk. "Shh. Just relax. Then we can go to bed. Does that sound nice?"

"Mhm…" Master's head lolls back, and he's already falling asleep. "D… Darling…"

Darling sighs. Just a little. It isn't annoyed, it could never be annoyed at Master, it just…

It has no excuse, but Master didn't seem to hear the sigh anyway.

"Time for bed," Darling murmurs, pries Master's fingers from it, and gets up. Master follows only to have something to hold.

The moment Darling slows down Master grabs it again, pulling it tight. The pungent smell of whiskey is nearly overwhelming.

"You're so sweet," Master murmurs, pressing a messy kiss to the top of Darling's head. "Want to hold you forever. So soft."

"You can hold me in bed, Master," Darling says, careful of how it's speaking, so that it doesn't offend Master in this volatile state. "With the comfy mattress and the soft blankets. Doesn't that sound better than standing in the hallway?"

"Don't want to move," Master mumbles.

"But it'll be nice and warm," Darling whispers, cautiously stepping forward and dragging Master with it. "And I'll be there the whole night."

"S'metimes I wish I'd trained you as an Intimate." Master just seems to let Darling move him forward. "Y're so pretty. You'd look so pretty with my f'ngers in y'r mouth."

Darling swallows. Same as always. "Think about it tomorrow, Master."

Darling manages to get Master into the bedroom and laid down on the bed. Master doesn't bother trying to make it easy for Darling to get his work clothes off - he just pulls Darling into the bed and pulls it up close.

"Mine, y'r my pretty li'l Darling," Master whispers, slurring most of his words. Master leans in and kisses Darling on the lips, a not completely unfamiliar sensation, but an odd one nonetheless. "W's that nice? I w'nt you…"

Master's hands are clumsy when he's drunk, but tonight they're at least still gentle when they try to fumble with the cord on Darling's pyjamas. Darling tied them so tightly for exactly this reason. Master never said it couldn't stop him from doing this. It wasn't made for this.

"Master," Darling says softly, deterring him by threading its fingers through Master's, practiced, careful. "I'm tired. Aren't you tired?"

"I'll j'st fuck you while y'r sleeping," Master mumbles, but makes no move to untangle his hands from his Pet's.

"You're tired," Darling murmurs, and leans in close, kissing the underside of Master's jaw. "Wouldn't it be nice to just go to sleep and let me do all the work?"

"Nnh…" Master's eyelids flutter at the suggestion. "Y'r so good. Y'r so good f'r me…"

Darling doesn't reply, just kisses him again, soft and chaste and it's keeping things that way. Darling has only just kissed down to Master's collarbone when he starts to lightly snore.

Darling lets out another tiny, secret sigh, and curls up against Master's chest. He'll be too hungover to remember any of this in the morning anyway. He won't know what Darling did or didn't do.

taglist: @whumpsday @roblingoblin285 @whumpycries @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @clairelsonao3 @dislexiher

#polly's prose #delicate #peter (darling)#westley santana #peter is so. interesting. he's very quickly becoming one of my favourite characters to write #he is so smart. he literally doesn't know what's going on ever things just happen to him and he's like ''okay 👍''#anyway if this is Too Much for anyone dw about it <3 not super plot important. i was just thinkin thoughts at 3am about the boy.

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wovenvessel · 8 months

Note

Been asking around to see everyone’s fav bmc songs. So: I wanna know what’s your favorite! Full rant and everything!! >:)

oh em gee. AAHHH OKAY >:DD

Okay it's genuinely so hard to pick just one bc I really really like every song from both of the albums but AHHH if I had to choose one I think I'd gotta say...

A guy that I'd kinda be into

FOR LIKE SO MANY REASONS SO GET READY TO HEAR ME RANT.

Okay so this is specific to Broadway but that fact the scene that plays right before that song is the bowling alley performance art scene ;3;

But okay anyways the fact that in both versions Jeremy tells her he can ask him anything (and I KNOW that's the squip feeding him a line) but just the way those words make a doubtful a disheartened Christine feel comfortable enough to launch into song just--AHHHGHSJNSB

okay but anyways the song!! I LOVE THE INSTRUMENTALS SO SO MUCH. IDK WHAT INSTRUMENTS ARE PLAYING BUT AHGGG in both versions they are just so brain scratching.

THE WAY CHRISTINE SINGS JEREMY'S NAME MAKES ME MELT.

Jeremy's imagination taking over more and more!! Like the pink hearts showing up AHH

Christine's whole mannerisms during this whole song AHHHH. Jeremy asking the squip if she's talking about him and the squips smugness "of course she is". The swell of the music when that line "i dont always relate to other people my age, except when I'm on the stage. There are so many changes that I'm going through" HDVSUBFJSJS first of all the line is a little to relatable Christine. And then when she says "I guess there's a part of me that wants too!" And THE CHIMES THAT PLAY AFTERWARD!!?! AND THEN JEREMYS IMAGINATION AND FEELINGS REALLY KICKS IN when like the ensemble start vocalizing in a way I swear is supposed to mimic his heart rate and then the harmonizing!!

And then Christine let's herself go on and on with her "i guess a part of me's" and omg whats happening in the scene!!! When she grabs his hand and swings it up and creates like a bridge the hearts cross through!! And then they get pushed together AND THEN THEY LIKE DO THAT AWKWARD SLOW DANCE MOVEMENT as the music continues to swell and the hearts circle around the two AND THEN JEREMY LIFTS HER UP?!!?! AHHHHHH I especially like that in the Broadway version it doesn't stop abruptly so it just flows so nicely.

AND THEN THE ENDING OF THE SONG. I literally think its the best. After ALL OF THAT after convincing the audience/listener that Christine is talking about Jeremy. And the squips stupid smug little face while Christine is admitting who this guy is only for her to say THAT IT'S JAKE. it's so funny and you can pinpoint the exact moment Jeremy's heartbreaks in half >3<. Its so funny watching first time listeners shock when she doesn't say Jeremy's name.

A guy id kinda be into is a song I have loved so consistently and it's just super sweet and makes me wanna dance. Christine's energy is just so infectious and Jeremy pining for her during the whole song AHKHNGNDJ.

Tysm for asking :3c I love the music

#be more chill #bmc #be more chill musical #bmc ramblings #christine canigula #jeremy heere #stagedorks

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collieii · 1 year

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thinking abt how stampede handles wolfwoods introduction compared to other versions, and to me it kind of fails in a way. one of the big things about wolfwood's character is that he's kind right? he's a good person who was forced to be cruel. they show his soft side by having him interact with kids. it plays out a little differently depending on version, but essentially he sees some kids having a rough time and sacrifices smth (money or food) so they can be more comfortable. its esp poignant in trimax where they were literally stealing from him so it would be understandable if he got mad, but he isn't at all. and this follows the scene of him haggling with the driver, so we know for a fact that wolfwood is not in a good place.

meanwhile in stampede, the the kid wolfwood interacts with is zazie? and at the end of the ep its revealed that they know each other, that wolfwood is working with knives, etc. so it just makes that earlier scene look like a setup, at least thats how it seemed to me the first time i watched the ep.

it also feels a little less genuine than the moment wolfwood had with the kids in the other versions, i'm not sure why. maybe it's because the scene goes by too fast. or because of how different wolfwood is in stampede (he’s so much meaner than his past versions!) so the kindness we see here is just. obscured by how bitchy he is in half of his other scenes. if i'm to believe wolfwood is a good guy, i need to see him be good sometimes idk?

vash's comment about him being good in ep 4 is so jarring to me because it feels like he has zero reason to say that. ik it's maybe not supposed to be 'reasonable' since he doesn't even give an actual reason aside from the ~his eyes~ thing which is not logical at all lmao, just based on vibes. and i do sort of trust that vash has good instincts and can tell when a person is trustworthy or not based on vibes. but when i watched it as someone unfamiliar with the original trigun, unaware who wolfwood was, i was confused as to why exactly vash decided to trust wolfwood aside from maybe his general faith in humanity. the nicest thing wolfwood does is give the kid a lollipop which is sweet but in this context it doesn't have the same effect as giving him his money or smth (and as i said the effect is kinda retroactively belied by the fact that its zazie, not some rando he has no connection too).

to be fair, his intro scene serves other purposes in stampede. we learn about wolfwood's past in the orphanage, which is important to introduce because his arc with livio is addressed later in the season. it also ties into vash's new internal conflict in stampede about eating and self flagellation and stuff. but that ends up being kinda detrimental to the scene too? instead of saying something normal to the kid that makes us go ‘aww hes good with kids!’ it literally just feels like he’s talking to vash, which he would not be because wolfwood has known vash for 5 minutes atp. obviously im not expecting stampede to copy the scene from the manga or 98, but the fact that they included an analogue of it means to me that they're obviously aware of how important it is to wolfwood's character. still, they managed to execute it in a way that sort of fails to communicate something i personally consider fundamental to his character in any version.

#trigun #trigun stampede #nicholas d. wolfwood #plz dont take this to mean i am a stampede hater i like stampede #but i dont agree with every choice they make yk #i am slightly baffled by how mean ww is in tristamp like i accept it different show different characters #but watching it back to back w 98 is such a contrast #this one is long for some reason oops #and rambling #yeesh #sorry i couldnt figure out how to make it nicer and shorter #trigun maximum #trigun meta #.lieii #yeah i'm rewatching stampede for the first time since finishing the other triguns #.lieii txt

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euphoricfilter · 2 years

Text

To Build A Home (Part Nine)

Part nine: Copious Kisses

Pairing: Ot7 x 9 tailed fox Hybrid! Reader

Fox Hybrid! Jin, Human! Namjoon, Human! Yoongi, Wolf Hybrid! Hoseok, Cat Hybrid! Jimin, Wolf Hybrid! Taehyung, Fox Hybrid! Jungkook

Genre: Hybrid AU || Fluff || Angst || Smut/ implied smut || Strangers to lovers AU || Best friends to lovers AU

Summary: All Jin can think to do is try and kiss it all better.

Word count: 7.6k

Tags/ warnings: blood is mentioned a lot, lots of crying, angst/ comfort (it's more comfort), fluffy-ish, violence (but its deserved), the pain if finally over, hybrid mistreatment, me thinks that is all

Notes: second to last chapter lets gooooo. i also planned for like super soft smut in the next chapter, like a cute way to end the series but oh my god the cringe, jail time, will never see the light of day. so idk if there will be which im pissed about and i'm too scared to ask someone for help :'( and i'm shy but i'm open to suggestions! i've also been stressed because i have to write a graduation speech and my brain has fully stopped working so this chapter is a lil late and i'm a tiny bit unhappy with it because i feel like something is missing but my brain is fried.

my masterlist

series masterlist

part 10

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At some point throughout the late morning, you’d staggered to the other side of the cell.

The squelching of the mattress was uncomfortable, and you hated how each time you’d move a reminder of how much blood had spewed from your wound had seeped into the old fabric. Even though your tail was gone, there were moments you could feel the ghost of where it used to lay, aching even though it was no longer there. A dull pain from a limb that was no longer connected to your body.

The old man had migrated from his own worn and torn bed, instead coming to sit beside you, lithe fingers slipping through the gaps in the bars to gently hold your own. A silent comfort, because the silence was enough. No words truly bringing either of you comfort, of the reassurance that you would be alive tomorrow or that you be able to laze in the sun or smell the sweet morning air on a spring day. Touch or hold those that meant the world to you, see them grow alongside yourself.

He understood how hard it must be for you, he himself had experienced the hell that the hybrid sector put people like himself through. He’d watched countless bodies being dragged through the door at the end of the hallway, occasionally the hybrid never making a return. And he never bothered to ask. Because sometimes it’s better to stay oblivious and not pry for an answer you know you won’t like, an answer you already know but refuse to acknowledge.

He doesn’t know how long they’d kept him here, but he supposes it didn’t really matter anymore. He guessed the rest of his days would be spent cooped up in a dingy cell in the basement of the hybrid sector. Each time they’d pulled his body from the safe confines of his cell he would wonder if that day would be his last. But it never had been.

And he thinks maybe the reason was this moment.

To watch the burning flames behind your eyes, a determination he hadn’t seen from the others that resided in the basement. You’d been treated inhumanely, stripped of something so precious and yet you still had that flicker of hope burning in your eyes.

He understood it was a little hard for you to stand, hands shaky and body in pain, weakened from the blood loss and lack of food. But he could see you trying to fight it. He watched as your chest rose and fell his heavy bursts, eyes trained on the grimy floor of his own cell. Locked up in your own small world.

He wonders what you think about, but never asks. The selfish part of him not wanting to know too much about you or your life. Not wanting to become too attached when both of your futures aren’t guaranteed. One day you could be dragged through the door, and he could never see you again. He’d lost one family he didn’t need to lose another.

“You should eat” he eventually speaks up, easily slipping his hand from your own as he hobbles over to the bowl beside his mattress. His breakfast left untouched.

You watch as he drops down in front of you again, skeletal hands slipping through the bars to nudge a spoonful of cold porridge to your lips. Your own bowl was left by the door to your cell, you hadn’t made the detour to pick it up when you’d moved earlier in the day and getting up seemed like an impossible task as you lay there. The very thought of standing too tiring.

Your lips part, the old man chuckling as you cringe at the stodgy mixture, texture a little too slimy for your liking.

“Mister” you tilt your head, eyes catching the old man’s who smiles down at you, a smile on his face.

He nods, letting you know he’s listening as he gathers up another hefty spoonful.

You clear your throat, “We’ll get out of here. I promise we’ll get out of here”

You watch his smile falter, and if you were a little more naïve then maybe you would have been fooled by the look in his eyes. One that wanted to appease you but knew secretly deep down that there was no escape. Kind eyes that didn’t want to discourage you, and strip you of the small sliver of hope you were clinging onto like a lifeline.

But you had hope.

Jungkook had said he would come for you, so you believe him.

Jin promised he would always be there for you, and you believed him. A small part of your mind knew that Jin would never leave you. He’d picked you up off the side of the road as a small child, grimy and starving. You wanted to believe he wouldn’t just leave you to rot alone inside a cage.

You’d done all you could, you’d made sure that their future was secured. And maybe in those fleeting moments during the prior nights when you’d first been thrown into the cell, or the day where they’d cut off your tail, your mind had been plagued with those same thoughts you’d had months ago, when thing weren’t as bright as they had been in recent weeks.

But you believed. You believed that the security your family now has will be enough of a push for them to come and save you.

The longer your thoughts were left to marinate, the more you’d come to realise that maybe this was karma. Karma from the day you’d threatened to cut Jimin’s tail off if he ever stabbed you in the back again.

You were joking obviously. A somewhat harmless threat to scare Jimin a bit. But clearly the universe had thought differently about your empty threat and now you were facing the consequences.

You wonder if Jimin remembers that day as vividly as you do. You remember being angry, but a little further down you felt a little bad you had gone as far as you had. You suppose Jimin wouldn’t still be with you if you had just let him roam free and take some of your things. Some nights you’d consider going to his room and asking if the life he had is one he really wanted, but the small selfish part of you never asked. Because you didn’t want to lose your best friend.

You’d have to convince yourself this is definitely what he wanted. You’d given him the offer to leave that night and he hadn’t taken it.

+++

You’d dozed off at some point, your body trying its best not to regurgitate your slimy brunch.

You weren’t sure if it was specifically the porridge that had upset your stomach or just eating in general, your body having to digest the food taking up too much energy.

Breathing had become harder, and from the faint feeling of a cold hand being pressed across your forehead you suspected you had a fever. The old man muttering under his breath as he tries to figure out a way to reduce it. Annoyance laced in his features because he had nothing more than the clothes on his back and a bed. They hadn’t bothered to fill the dog bowl with water that morning, so he had no way of helping you.

Your eyes open groggily when the clank of the door at the other end of the hall opens, and you silently pray they stay on the far end of the room away from your cell. You weren’t sure you’d be able to take another round of testing right now, let alone being dragged down endless hallways. Your body was slowly reaching its limit and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to hold on.

Although the thought was selfish, you hope that if they were coming to your end of the basement, it was because they were shoving another innocent soul into the cell adjacent from yours which had been empty since you’d arrived. Almost all the other cells filled with other hybrids.

You hear the old man shuffle beside you, and your hybrid ears twitch when a chorus of voices echo into the basement. Your fox ears press flat against your head to try and muffle the noise, eyes closing.

You want to laugh at how similar one of the voices sounds to Namjoon’s, your lips quirking as you try to imagine what he would say in a situation like this one.

You think he would panic a little, trying his best to keep it together for your sake because he wants to hold everyone together. But you’d see the way his brows quirk a little in worry. Or how his voice would drop an octave, a smooth lullaby that you’d come to love because Namjoon really did have a pretty voice. It was easy to listen to him read a book or just talk about his day of an evening, your muscles slowly turning to jelly as he gently scratches behind your hybrid ears, or his fingers card through your tails.

When the familiar sound of footsteps descend into the basement, you bite your lip as your hands move to cover your human ears. Breathing shallow as you curl in on yourself. Because the most logical thought in your brain was that; if you were smaller and quieter maybe they would walk right by you and leave you alone.

Your nose doesn’t pick up on the cologne you’d started to associate home with. Your sense of smell having been dulled down over the few days from the musty cell and the smell of bleach.

Namjoon doesn’t fully see your face, you’d tucked into yourself, but he knew it was you. He would always know it was you. He could lose multiple of his senses and he would still know it was you.

His eyes glaze over your body, curled up on the concrete floor. His eyes catch onto the pool of red, a smaller puddle under your tails where you’re laid. He swallows thickly at the state of the rest of the floor, mattress soaked in red, a small trail from the make-shift bed to where you were on the floor.

He fumbles with the keys, hands shaking as he curses. Because you were hurt and suddenly, he can’t remember which key unlock the door to your cell. Mind frazzled because you’re hurt.

You’re bleeding.

He uses the fact that he can see your chest raising and falling in jittery interval as enough proof that you were still alive, maybe just passed out, but still alive and somewhat okay. And if his hands and brain would co-operate then maybe he could get you out of this place sooner.

The sooner you were out of there, the sooner he can fix all the problems that have occurred over the last few days. He’d take you to a hybrid hospital, not caring if they were expensive, that was the last thought on his mind. What if he had shown up minutes later and you were at life’s end?

He drops the keys onto the floor accidently, and he pauses when you flinch back from the loud sound. He just watches you for a moment, a second feeling like a lifetime as he watches to make sure you’re okay. He hadn’t realised that he was holding his breath until he watched you let out a shaky exhale, his own lungs releasing a large puff of air.

Your eyes squeeze a little tighter, body curling in on itself a little more and Namjoon feels his eyes well up with tears. He didn’t mean to scare you.

He knew you were sensitive to sounds, how could he be so careless?

He makes eye contact with the old man who looks at him with what Namjoon can only describe as revulsion. But Namjoon can’t get mad. The evidence that all the hybrids being locked in the basement had been mistreated was proof that humans were probably one of the most selfish, bloodthirsty creatures on the food chain. Who only cared about themselves and their own pitiful lives.

He ignores the stares he gets from a few of the other hybrids, a lot of them having wandered over to the front of their cells at the sight of an unfamiliar human. A small sense of hope that maybe they would be free, that someone had finally heard their silent prayers.

Namjoon eventually calms his shaking hands down enough to unlock the cell door. He yanks it open, uncaring that his beige pants were getting grimy as he practically slides across the floor to your side.

“Small thing” he whispers, hands hovering over your body, unsure if he should hold you or not.

He didn’t know what had happened to you and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you, both physically or mentally.

Namjoon takes a moment to really look over you, and he holds a hand over his mouth when he spots the focal point of your bleeding. His body hunches forward as a low sob wracks through his body, his eyes flitting over the rest of your body to check for any more damage. He shoves the palms of his hands into his eye-sockets. Your body looking like a swirl of red behind the veil of tears.

A pruned hand reaching for your ears catches his attention. Namjoon watches as the old man reaches through the bars, his lithe fingers smoothing your hybrid ears away from your head. And Namjoon would be worried that would hurt if he didn’t spot the old man’s own hybrid ears. He tries not to stare at the odd number of ears, the realisation that the ‘failed experiments’ were the ones being kept in the basement.

He felt sick to his stomach.

“Young miss, it seems a friend of yours has arrived” he whispers, cautious that you still may be startled.

Namjoon watches your eyes slowly open, squinting slightly at the florescent lights.

“Hey small thing” Namjoon whispers, watching as your hybrid ears twitch.

Your eyes meet his own, and he can’t help but cry in relief.

You lift a hand, beckoning Namjoon to come closer. Namjoon bends over your body, smiling as you wipe his cheeks, a relived smile on your face.

“Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” he says, hands already moving to help you sit up.

However, his eyes widen when you push his hands away. The ghost of your touch stinging his hands from where you’d slapped him.

“Where’s Jin?” you ask, eyes frantically looking over the producer’s face.

“Outside, he’s waiting for us outside” he motions to the door at the end of the hallway. Voice steady but his eyes gave away the panic he was feeling.

Your nose twitches, trying to see if you could smell Jin.

Namjoon goes to help you up again but like before you just push his hands away. This time your push yourself to sit up, your tails laying limp on the floor beside you as you push your body away from Namjoon’s, head shaking frantically.

Namjoon opens his mouth, ready to argue you’re hurt, and he promises Jin was waiting upstairs for you, but you beat him to it.

“I won’t leave unless I know Jin is okay” you say, breaths becoming a little heavier from sitting up on your own. Your hands shakily moving to wipe your cheeks, skin soaking in your salty tears.

Namjoon worries you’re hyperventilating as you struggle to breath, pushing his hands away when he tries to reach out and help you.

His jaw clenches when you mutter out for Jin, begging Namjoon to see Jin. You needed to know if he was okay.

You know Namjoon wouldn’t lie.

But what if Jin wasn’t okay?

What if Jimin and Taehyung had been taken away too?

Namjoon swallows, taking a moment to look into your eyes, they flit down to your tails as well as the puddles of blood.

He nods, “Okay. I’ll bring Jin here” he slowly stands, eyes raking over your figure once more to check that you would be okay.

It’s when he sees your body shaking, barely holding yourself up that he turns, running down the hallway. Ignoring the angry shouts from the other hybrids that wanted their cages unlocked like yours.

+++

Jin almost stumbles down the stairs, muttering a quick thanks to Namjoon who grabs him by the back of the sweater before he can tumble down them.

He takes no notice of the other hybrids, his heightened sense of smell easily picking up your scent.

His eyes lock onto your figure through the bars of the old man’s cell, you legs tucked into your chest, head daintily resting on your knees.

He chokes on the thick smell of blood, freezing once he yanks open the door to the cell when he sees the state of the room.

You look up, bottom lip wobbling when you see him. Your eyes locking with his glassy ones.

Jin’s adams apple bobs when he swallows, hybrid ears picking up on your shallow breaths.

He stumbles forward, arms reaching out to hold your face as he drops to his knees in-front of you.

“Don’t cry” you whisper. Watching as his hands retreat from your cheeks to wipe his own.

When had he started crying?

Jin abandons wiping his cheeks when small pearly tears cascade down your face.

His eyes flit across your body, before taking a moment to just look into your eyes.

Namjoon watches from the other side of the cell as Jin hunches forward, his head falling to rest on your knees.

Your eyes widen when his body shakes, a loud sob wracking through his body. He reaches for your hands, resting by your sides.

Your hands squeeze his own, trying to pry his face from your legs. You’d never seen Jin so down.

Even the day your old owner had died, or the day he’d thought you’d ran away from home he’d shed a few tears in the silence of his room and them comfort you. You’d never seen Jin looking so… lost. Like he didn’t know what he was doing, unsure of his own feelings. So vulnerable that all he can do is hold onto you with all the strength he can muster. You don’t move as his hands squeeze yours, he squeezes them so tight that you worry the delicate bones in your hands would snap. Jin holding onto you like you would disappear if he let go.

You don’t register Namjoon shuffling from foot to the other on the other side of the cell, your focus trapped on Jin as he cries.

His shoulders shake, choking on his own sobs.

“I’m sorry” he cries, head lifting slightly to hold onto your upper arms, pulling you into his chest.

His head rests on top of your own, his shoulder still shaking as he runs a hand through your hair. Eyes screwed shut, trying his best to not let anymore tears fall.

He opens his eyes when he feels your own tears soak into his sweater and his breath hitches.

His eyes catch sight of your tail, and only then does he notice how your blood had started to soak into his trousers. He gently pushes you from his chest, looking down, his hand clamps over his mouth to mask his gasp at the crimson puddle.

His eyes trail back towards your tails, laying limply on the concrete.

You look up at the ceiling, hand coming to rest over your eyes as you take a long deep breath.

Jin’s fingers barely touch the bandage around the stump of your 9th tail, his mouth opening to let out his own shaky breath.

He ignores the sticky feeling of your blood on his hands as he rests his head on the concrete beside your chopped off tail. The rest of your tails-stained red laying flaccid around you.

Your eyes begin to hurt, you want to blame it on the lights on the ceiling as you stare up, but you know it’s because you’re scared. Eyes stinging as you swallow back a fresh wave of tears.

Jin doesn’t say anything, eyes squeezed shut as he sits up from the bowing position.

“Sunshine” he calls, voice wobbly, hands reaching to hold any part of you.

You look down, eyes empty as you stare at the red being smeared onto your arms. Jin’s hands frantically holding onto any part of skin he can find, a trail of red following each soft touch.

You look into his eyes as his hands finally find your cheeks. And you ignore the tacky feeling of blood being transferred onto your cheeks.

You don’t even get a proper look at his face before his lips brush against your own. And like second nature, your eyes shut, tension slowly slipping out of your body as his lips pillow your own.

Although not the most perfect kiss, a mix of salty tears, snotty noses and too much teeth neither of you pull away until you’re both gasping for air. Your eyes stay closed as he kisses over your red rimmed eyes, a soft kiss to your lips once more before he bends down.

Your eyes follow his movements, biting the inside of your cheek as you feel his plush lips press against the stump of your tail through the loose bandages. He sucks in a shaky breath before he leans down and presses a firmer kiss this time. Still wary that you were likely in pain, but firm enough that you would be able to feel his kiss.

All he can think to do is kiss it better. Just like he would do to all the small cuts and scrapes you’d have over the years.

But he knows, he knows that this is far worse. But what more can he do? He can’t bring your tail back. He wishes he could.

So, he doesn’t say anything.

Because honestly, he doesn’t know what to say. For the first time ever, he has no comforting words for you. All he can do is hope that you can feel his love for you as his lips brush over your wounded tail. He knows you were never fond of them; you’d spend nights complaining as he would dry them, nights were he would whisper to you in the dark about how perfect you were and that any flaw you saw in yourself made him love you more. That having 8 more tails just meant more of you to love. A feature that made you stand out from everyone else.

He’d never told you but the first day he’d met you, it wasn’t your abundance of tails that caught his attention. It was your eyes.

While at the restaurant he remembers wondering how similar you must have looked to the day he had first met you. And the you from today has the same fire in her eyes as the you of the past.

The you from back then had been so small, a frail child that had the determination the size of the moon. So much hope and want in such a small body that Jin had been surprised. He’d begged his owner to help you.

He thinks that now you’ve grown, and as you’ve grown so has you will to survive.

But over the years your tails had become another of his favourite things about you. He hadn’t really been taken aback the first time he noticed them, him of the past thought they were pretty, they weren’t as fluffy as they were now, but now they were one of his favourite things about you.

You watch as he sits up, back of his hand wiping the smeared blood from his lips.

You both just look at each other, no words needed to convey your feelings. You could both see the looks of relief dancing behind each other’s irises.

You felt your body finally relax, the tension of being scared, not knowing what would happen to you finally dissipating as reality sets in.

Your body felt light, knowing the freedom you’d been fight for, for years was in arms reach. Mere centimetres from your fingertips. You wouldn’t have to worry about being taken to a facility, nor would you be separated from Jin and sent to different homes. Where you’d never be able to touch each other ever again. You wouldn’t have to go to bed or wake up in the morning, wondering how much longer you really had together, or take anxiety educing trips outside with Jin’s fake ID, the fear of being caught following the two of you like a shadow. Or worrying every moment you were awake, scared that someone would show up at your door with a new set of laws that would ruin the rest of your life.

A smile quirks onto your lips, Jin’s own expression matching your own.

And you laugh, even as a sharp pain zips up your spine from the sudden movement; you laugh.

You laugh because you’re relieved. Years of build-up finally washing away, every waking moment filled with anxiety being blown away like dust in the wind.

Jin yelps when you slump forward, body finally resting. Any adrenaline that had been keeping you awake for possibly days at this point finally wearing thin. Your bones feel like lead, weighing you down; but you feel as light as a feather. The phantom pressure that had been holding you down for so long finally at peace.

You ignore Jin shouting at Namjoon, your mind unable to fully comprehend what they could be arguing about as your eyes close, a small smile of content on your lips as you finally slip into a peaceful sleep.

There was no doubt in your mind that you would have nightmares of these few days, the rough treatment and inhumane way you’d been treated not something you’d be able to forget.

Even as your body takes its time to fully shut down, you can feel the stinging of your wrists and ankles, rubbed raw from hand cuffs and chains, the phantom feeling of your tail pulsing dully even though it was gone, and the throb from the bruises that came from being grabbed so roughly, treated as nothing more than a cut of meat. Worth nothing more than what your body could give the few people that wanted to experiment on your kind, how the humans had fucked up their tests when making you and all the other poor hybrids that were locked in their cages.

But there’s no space for bad dreams as your mind focuses on Jin’s voice, Namjoon trying to calm the fox down as they both freak out, neither of them sure if you were okay or what they should do.

+++

Jungkook shoots up from the chair in the lobby area of the hybrid sector when the large metal door pushes open.

Taehyung follows soon after once they spot you in Jin’s arms, body lax and eyes closed.

Jungkook’s fingers gently push some hair out of your face, tears brimming his eyes as he looks at the state you were in.

Taehyung looks over at Namjoon who stands beside Jin, “She’s just passed out” he tells the wolf.

“Is she okay? She’s bleeding a lot” Jungkook asks, frantically looking at Jin to fix something.

“She’s not bleeding anymore Kookie” the old of the foxes reassures.

Jimin and Hoseok had slowly made their way over, Jimin biting his lip as he gets a glimpse at you. He buries his face in Taehyung’s back who reaches his hand behind his back to hold Jimin’s.

Hoseok, never one to like the sight of blood turns around. The wolf makes eye contact with Yoongi, the producer raising an eyebrow in question. Hoseok shakes his head, watching as Yoongi pushes himself from his chair.

Taehyung scoots himself and Jimin out of the way so the older of the two producers can get a good look at you. Yoongi blinks, his hand gently brushing over your cheeks. He feels a little relived when he can see the shallow rise and fall of your chest.

Namjoon places a heavy hand on Jimin’s shoulder when he notices the cat trying to quieten down his sobs. Taehyung’s hand only doing so much comfort.

Hoseok bites down on his fist, guilt trickling through his body. Ashamed he hadn’t done more to try and help you. He doesn’t know exactly what he expected to happen, but it wasn’t this. He should have stopped you the day he had said goodbye, maybe he should have been the one to stay by your side instead of Jungkook.

You’d done so much for each of them, he wishes he could turn back time and figure out a way to fix all that had gone wrong.

The wolf looks to his side when he feels a soft pat on his shoulder. Yoongi doesn’t look at him, which he appreciates, unsure if he could hold himself together if the older male were to peer into his soul. The thought of having to open his mouth to talk almost enough for a fresh ripple of pearly tears to travel down his face.

Yoongi looks out the large floor to ceiling windows, blue sky a little patronising for such a melancholy day. It felt a little too wrong for the sun to shine so brightly, the cliché trope of the sky turning grey, rain pelting like there is no tomorrow feeling more fitting for the situation.

“There’s not much we could have done. She’s stubborn and would have put you guys over herself no matter the outcome” he says, tone low.

They both bask in each other’s silence, watching as a bird flies by outside. Hoseok wonders if you’d feel as free as that bird does once you wake up. He wonders how long it’ll take for you to wake up, if you ever will wake up. He wonders if you were scared, if you missed him as much as he missed you, if he could take away your pain as easily as you had his.

“Everything will start to get better” Yoongi whispers, and Hoseok thinks that maybe Yoongi had similar thoughts to his own and this was his way of reassuring himself that there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Taehyung’s head turns towards the other side of the lobby when another door is shoved open, four men dressed in police uniforms dragging Kim Dae-Hyun and Kim Seung by their arms through the lobby, both of them trying to pull their arms free.

Dae-Hyung was screaming something about a lawyer and Seung was trying to break free while reciting his human rights and how this was too much.

Before anyone can react, Jungkook is storming his way over towards to two of them.

Dae-Hyung snarls at him and Jungkook has to hold back a scoff at the irony of the situation. It was funny, how these two men who had little to no regard for hybrids, claiming they were feral animals, were actually the feral ones.

Jungkook ignore the snide comments the two men were making, the four policemen trying to hold them still.

Jungkook smiles, and Seung is taken aback by how sadistic the smile is.

Hoseok flinches back at the sound of Jungkook’s fist colliding with Seung’s right cheek. The government official’s eyes widening in utter shock. The two policemen get a better grasp on him as he freezes before he’s looking at the two of them in disbelief.

“You can’t tolerate this behaviour” Seung seethes, and Jungkook can see the heat slowly raising as the man’s face reddens in a mix of embarrassment and rage, his cheek an even darker red. Jungkook thinks he can see a bruise starting to form.

“Jeon Jungkook” Jin shrieks, passing your lax body over to Namjoon who cringes as his clothes get bloody.

Jungkook looks between you and Jin, anger still bubbling through his veins as he sees the state you were in, the culprits behind this standing right before him, but Jin sounded pretty mad…

He swallows, eyes meeting the older fox’s.

A smile quirks onto Jin’s face, “There’s two of them you know” the fox motions to Dae-Hyung.

Said man’s eyes widening when he grasps the implications of Jin’s words.

Jungkook cracks his neck, turning towards Dae-Hyun with a shit-eating grin.

Jin winces when Jungkook’s fist collides with Dae-Hyun’s nose, a loud snap echoing through the lobby.

Taehyung can see the front-desk woman’s jaw drop as she watches blood gush from Dae-Hyun’s nose. Jungkook smiling proudly at Jin who gives him two big thumbs up.

Jungkook briefly turns towards the police officers, “Thank you for your service” he bows respectfully.

One of them snorts, “No problem kid, I would have done the same if these two had done what they did to the young lady, to either of my hybrids”

Jungkook smiles at him brightly, happy to know that not all humans were assholes.

Taehyung turns, looking down at you sadly, “Now I don’t feel bad we keyed their car” he sighs.

Yoongi turns towards him with a look of pure disbelief on his face, “You did what?”

Taehyung smiles sheepishly, cheek rubbing against the top of Yoongi’s head as he holds onto your hand tightly.

+++

“Hyung are you sure she’s, okay?” Jimin asks Jin, the younger’s hand squeezing Jin’s tightly as they sit in the hospital room.

Jimin knew you were alive, the beeping of the machines hooked up to your body were telling him so. The steady beating of your heart should be enough to tell him that you were okay, but he was still on edge.

When was the last time he gotten to give you a proper hug? Where you hugged him back and it wasn’t him sobbing into your chest as you lay motionless on the hospital bed. How long had it been since he’s gotten to look into your eyes, and just wander, his own thoughts mere whispers as he takes a moment to appreciate you. How long had it been since he’d cooked you a meal and you’d given him a soft kiss on the cheek in thanks? Or heard your pretty voice, or seen your bright smile?

When you woke up you were in the room alone.

It had taken minutes before you had fully comprehended that you were in hospital. The beeping machine merging with the beating of your heart, you hadn’t realised where you were until you looked down and had seen somewhat familiar hospital attire.

However, these weren’t stained in blood or vomit. They smelt clean and weren’t as rough as the ones you’d been given in the basement.

You wondered if you’d dreamt Namjoon and Jin coming to save you and that really, you’d been experimented on again and had just passed out, left alone in an infirmary because they’d fucked up an experiment again.

You breathe a sigh of relief when the door clicks open and Jimin scuttles in with a tired Jin close behind.

You’d pushed yourself out of bed, ready to leave the room when your eyes meet Jimin’s.

He blinks. Once and then twice. Before he’s barrelling towards you, Jin grabbing him by the waist before he can bulldoze into your side.

You look at him with wide eyes, worried as he starts to cry.

“Why are you crying?” you ask, smiling softly when Jin lets go of him and he makes his way over to you in a slower manner.

“Because… because” he wails, arms gently wrapping around your waist, scared you were still hurting.

Honestly you think the hospital must have pumped you full of pain killers because your body was feeling more numb than sore.

“Please don’t cry Mimi, I’m okay” you pat his back, remembering he wasn’t all that fond of his ears being scratched.

Jimin snivels as Jin tries to pry his arms from your waist, only letting go once you promise to sleep together once you’re discharged from the hospital.

He reluctantly sits down after he presses a soft kiss to your lips. Humming as he loses himself in the feeling of your lips pressed firmly against his own, a silent promise to each other that neither of you were going anywhere. A kiss so sweet and soft and so wholly you that Jimin was left in a daze as he watches you, a giddy smile on his face.

Jin steps forwards, you notice his hesitance, how he fidgets with his fingers, eyes avoiding your own.

“Is something wrong?” you ask, anxiety clawing its way through your body.

“I’m sorry”

Your eyes widen, “Huh?”

“I’m sorry. None of this would have happened if I had just… I don’t know? Done more” he exhales, a sad smile on his face as he finally looks at you.

Your hands reach for Jin’s, using then as an anchor to pull him closer to your body.

You sit back on the bed, legs moments away from giving out on you, but you wrap your arms around Jin’s waist nonetheless, your face pushing itself into his stomach.

“None of this is your fault Jin” you peer up at him, smiling when you feel a drop of water land on your cheek, Jin’s face turned to the side to hide his tears, “This is the least I could do to ensure our future”

+++

You’re slowly making your way through a pot of jelly when the door slams open, you flinch back, startled by the sudden action.

You watch Jeon Jungkook and Kim Taehyung stalk across the room. The wolf yanking the cup of jelly from your light grasp as he slams it down on the table.

Then both of them flop by your sides. You groan, Taehyung’s whole-body weight too much pressure on your legs as the two of them try and squeeze to fit onto the small, single bed. Neither of them saying anything, simply sighing when they figure out a comfortable position. Both cautious about your tails that rest on a pillow.

Hoseok’s head peeks around the door frame, and he sighs when he sees the pile of people on the poor old bed that looked minutes away from breaking under the weight of three people.

Yoongi follows in after the older wolf, shaking his head as he sees the situation they’d put you in.

“Hey, you two, don’t put too much pressure on her body” he swats at their behinds, Taehyung whining in defiance as Hoseok tries to pull him off of you.

Once they’d pried the two puppies from the bed, Hoseok set a paper bag on your lap.

“Thought you might be hungry, so we brought lunch” he smiles, and you thank him.

“You two go and get drinks, there’s a vending machine in the lobby” Yoongi shoos the youngest two out of the room before turning to you.

He takes a seat beside the bed, grabbing the paper bag and depositing its contents into your lap.

“Jin hyung said it’s probably best to start small but greasy food can make anyone feel better” he explains, unwrapping one of the smaller burgers from the paper and handing it to you.

“Thank you” you smile at him softly.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, handing Hoseok some food as well.

“Relived. Maybe a little scared” you admit, teeth sinking into the soft bun.

“Scared?”

You hum, taking a moment to chew before you answered, “Scared that maybe this isn’t the end and I’m being too optimistic”

“Even if it isn’t, we’ll stay by your side” Hoseok speaks up, hesitant as he holds your hand.

You smile at that, “Hoseokie” you coo, watching his hybrid ears stand alert, “gimme a kiss” you lean forwards.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi, surprise evident on his face but he obliges, nonetheless.

Hoseok expects a kiss on the cheek, face heating up when your lips land softly on his own. His eyes shut, basking in the soft feeling of your lips pressed to his own, his tongue darts out to run along your bottom lip, humming when he can taste the sauce from your burger.

“See, you can relax now. I’m okay” you smile when the two of you pull back, happy he seemed a little less tense.

You and Yoongi spare him of the embarrassment, both of you pretending his cheeks weren’t doused in rosy, red blush.

You lean towards Yoongi when his hands raise to card through your hair, and you tease him a little by leaning forward to kiss the corner of his lips. He smiles at that, hand holding your jaw gently.

“May I?” he asks, worried he was overstepping his boundaries.

You nod, eyes shutting when his lips brush your own in a feather light kiss.

Yoongi pulls back, thumb brushing your cheek, “we have more time to explore” he hums when he sees the serene look on your face.

“Hey!” you jump when Jungkook shouts from the doorway, “Did you seriously make us leave so you could kiss without us” he gawks, an exaggerated expression on his face, and you would worry he was offended if it weren’t for the way his tail was wagging behind him. And he said he wasn’t just an overgrown dog.

“Can you believe they’re sharing first kisses without us?” the fox nudges Taehyung’s shoulder.

You and Taehyung make eye contact, a sheepish smile gracing your features when Jungkook looks between the two of you.

+++

“Thank you” you smile at Hyerin, a little mad that words didn’t feel like enough to properly thank her.

She shakes her head, helping you put your shoes on, ready to be discharged from the hospital.

She’d explained everything that had happened while you were in the basement of the hybrid sector. How Sora had trouble at first because Jimin and Taehyung’s names were under Jin’s fake ID, to them camping out at the restaurant just like you had planned. She explained that Dae-Hyun and Seung had been arrested. And you felt a small part of you relax at that, the tiny piece of you that continued to worry finally at peace now that they were being punished for what they had done.

The part of you that wanted them to suffer was mad that all they got was a couple of years in prison before they would be banned from any government job, you’d have preferred if their punishment was harsher, but hybrids had no say anything like that, it was a miracle that they had been arrested in the first place.

She explained that Sora had been a member of multiple hybrid activist groups and once she’d set up a petition to place a new law; that taking a hybrid that was already registered under someone else’s name was kidnapping and would have immediate consequences, the activist community had tried their hardest to gather enough votes that the government would have to do something about it.

People had camped outside government buildings in protest, and so the new law was passed almost instantly. The hybrid sector worrying that word would get out and make them look bad.

Hyerin had explained she’d quit her job before they could officially fire her, deciding she wanted to work back at a hybrid centre instead; that way she could try and change people’s views on hybrids first-hand instead of taking on the huge task of changing the world from one of the core problems. And she hoped the two of you could keep in touch, she’d love to go out for lunch some time.

You asked what had happened to the other hybrids as well, worried they were sent back to facilities in the suburbs, but she’d smiled.

“A few of them decided to start work, a lot of business owners in the hybrid district were more than happy to take them in. Oh! That reminds me” she perks up, shoving a hand in the pocket of her jeans.

You carefully take the small business card, messy handwriting sprawled on the back.

“I’ll treat you to a nicer bowl of porridge next time we meet!”

You smile, turning the business card over, eyes widening when you notice the familiar logo of the restaurant Hoseok works at.

“An old guy asked me to give it to you, said he knew you but didn’t have any way to contact you” she informs, and you nod, smiling because you knew exactly who this was from.

You shove the small piece of card into the front of Jungkook’s hoodie when you hear the door click open.

“Ready to go home?” Jin asks you, smiling politely at Hyerin.

You spot the rest of your family crowding the narrow hospital hallway, each of them smiling at you brightly as they squeeze into the space of the door.

“Yeah” you nod, smiling equally as bright. Thanking Namjoon once he squeezes his way into the room, effortlessly picking you up from the bed.

You poke one of his dimples, heart skipping a beat when you feel his deep chuckle reverberate from his chest. He tilts his face down, easily pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, and you feel your face heat up.

You press your ear to his heart, the steady beating reassuring you that this wasn’t a dream.

You were finally going home.

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