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punkshort · 2 months

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i know who you are | 1. the beginning

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: A head injury on patrol causes you to lose your memories of the outbreak and the people you have grown to know and love over the last ten years.

Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and wounds, vomiting, angst, amnesia

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I shortened the timeline a bit - all of the events from the first game have happened, but this takes place ten years after the outbreak instead of twenty.

Series Masterlist

Pain.

That was all you could recognize at first. The back of your head throbbed so badly, you couldn't even open your eyes. There were sounds, but they were unidentifiable through the searing, red hot pain radiating across the back of your skull. Tenderly, you reached your hand back to press against the source. You recoiled instantly, the pain too much to bear. A thick and sticky wetness coated your fingers.

Then you smelled it.

The smell of metal. Coppery, familiar. Then... did you smell fireworks? Was it the Fourth of July? A few years back, your older brother was messing around with fireworks and nearly blew off his hand, ending the night in the emergency room. Your parents never let him forget it. Is that what happened? Did he make some stupid bet with you? A game of chicken wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He always brought out your competitive side.

You forced your eyes open just a crack, the sun immediately causing you to close them again. It was too bright and your brain was vibrating like it was trying to escape from the confines of your skull.

You were outside. It wasn't dark, fireworks wouldn't make sense. What was going on?

Then you heard your name. Someone shouting it, over and over, panic stricken.

You tried to hold up your hand, wave them off, tell them to stop being so loud, but you could barely lift your hand before the nausea hit. Unable to stop yourself, you rolled onto your side, your head screaming and punishing you for the sudden movement as you heaved, emptying the contents of your stomach into the grass. The force of it made your head hurt even more, if that was even possible.

The smell of acid mixed with the smell of metal, now.

Maybe you were dying.

Someone's hands were on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, yelling your name over and over.

"Stop," you pleaded weakly, tears springing into your eyes. The pain was too much.

"Jesse! Get her water!"

You groaned and covered your face with your palms. The sunlight was so fucking bright that you could even see it through your eyelids, a red glow everywhere you looked. You needed darkness. You needed quiet.

"Here, drink," you heard a man's voice say, then the hard plastic pressed against your lower lip. You whimpered and tried to pull away, the thought of anything in your stomach making you feel sick again.

"Shit, Joel's gonna fucking freak," you heard another male voice say from behind your head.

Against your better judgement, you forced your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you locked eyes with the first person you saw. A man with dark, curly hair that went past his ears, with patchy facial hair and soft, brown eyes. Your eyes drifted down to his dirty, denim jacket, and then you saw his hands. Fear shot through you when you saw the drying blood, fist still clutching a gun, and as you tried to scramble away, you bumped into someone behind you, causing you to panic.

Why were they surrounding you? Who were these people? It wasn't fireworks, it was gunpowder.

"Get the fuck away from me!" you screeched, but the dark haired man inched forward, his free hand reaching out to you, telling you to calm down, it's okay, sugar, but you continued to crawl backwards, ignoring the pain throbbing behind your eyes. What did these people do to you?

"Whoa, it's alright," the other man said. A younger man, also darker hair, but shorter.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, panic seizing you from head to toe. Your eyes flicked around the forest, the huge tree trunks making it impossible to figure out where you were.

"W-where am I? Where's my mom?"

The man holding the gun frowned and exchanged concerned glances with the other man.

"She's gone," he said gently, as if it were obvious. A strangled noise got caught in the back of your throat when you looked at the man's gun again.

"What did you do to her?" you asked, voice wavering. The man's eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and he quickly holstered it.

"I didn't do anythin' to her, sugar," he said, and again looked at the younger man before continuing. "She died the first day."

"What?" you asked, lip trembling. What the fuck was going on?!

"First day of what?"

"You don't remember?" he asked, and you could see the worry in his face. His eyes wide and his hand a little shaky.

"No, I don't fucking remember! What the fuck are you trying to pull?" you exclaimed, your voice rising the angrier you got.

"Sugar, do you know who I am?" he asked, sneakily taking the handgun that laid abandoned by your side in the dirt and tucking it into the back of his pants.

"No," you spat, then winced and clutched the back of your head again. When you pulled your hand back, you saw fresh blood coating your fingers. Your heart began slamming in your chest and you were finding it difficult to bring in enough air to keep you level.

"Jesse, get a rag," the man ordered. Jesse jumped up and jogged over to a backpack discarded on the ground. Old, worn, faded, with splashes of blood.

Then you saw the bodies.

Well, you supposed they could be considered bodies, but they didn't look like people. Not anymore. Their skin was sagging and grey. Clothes, torn and dirty. Mangy hair ripped out in handfuls at the scalp. Their mouths were agape, revealing yellowed teeth and stinking of rot.

"What the fuck?" you whispered as your vision narrowed. You faintly realized Jesse was pressing a rag against the back of your head, trying to stop the bleeding and had you not been so scared and confused, you might have shoved him away.

"Tommy, what do we do?" Jesse asked, and you could hear the fear in his voice now. His hand shook against your shoulder as he tried to keep you still.

"We gotta get her back home, have Nick take a look at her," he said, and you looked back and forth between them, flabbergasted. Talking about you as if you weren't right there.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," you told them. You tried to stand up, but fell to your knees. Tommy knelt down next to you, his arm circling around your shoulders, but you shrugged him off.

"C'mon, sugar. We ain't gonna hurt you, you just hit your head and you need to see a doctor," Tommy said. "Jesse, grab me my first aid kit."

"I gotta go home," you mumbled, and forced yourself to stand again. You couldn't see straight. Everything around you was spinning even though you were fairly certain you were standing still. "I need to see my dad... my brother."

"Shit," you heard Jesse mutter under his breath as he hustled over with a small, leather bag.

"Okay, why don't we take you to a doctor first, then we can talk about your family, alright?" Tommy asked gently. "I'm just gonna patch you up til we get back," he added, reaching into the bag for some medical tape. You watched as Tommy instructed Jesse to hold the rag against your head while he ran the medical tape around, holding the cloth in place.

You didn't have much choice. As you looked around, you were becoming more and more aware you had absolutely no idea where you were or what was happening. You definitely weren't home. There weren't trees like this back home.

So, begrudgingly, you agreed to follow them. Tommy stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, a sharp, piercing noise that made you wince. You were confused until you heard the soft pattering of hooves approaching, and through the trees, three tacked up horses emerged. A pale yellow one slowed and stopped a few feet away from you, snorting loudly and stomping its foot. You watched as Tommy and Jesse grabbed their backpacks and mounted their horses. Then Tommy seemed to realize the problem and quickly slid back down to the ground.

"I'll give you a boost," he said, crouching next to the yellow horse and lacing his fingers together. Slowly, you walked forward, eyeing the horse wearily before gripping the saddle and stepping one foot into Tommy's hands. He hoisted you up as you tossed your leg over the side of the horse and you bent forward, momentarily burying your face in its mane while you tried to stop the world from spinning. Fuck, your head was going to explode.

You followed Tommy's horse while Jesse took up the rear, all of you maneuvering around the rotting corpses littering the ground.

"What is this?" you asked, utterly confused. "Did I faint when we found a bunch of dead bodies or something? We have to go to the police," you told them, panic rising once again.

"We will," Tommy said, and you took a deep breath. Okay, things were making sense. You hit your head. Maybe you fell off your horse and knocked yourself out. You don't remember meeting these men before, but they seemed to know you, and they didn't appear to be threatening. If they were, they wouldn't give you your own horse, right?

"How far away are we from your home?" you asked after about ten minutes.

"Not far. Maybe another half hour or so. You holdin' up okay?" Tommy asked, twisting around in his saddle to look at you, his eyes briefly glancing over your shoulder at Jesse.

"Yeah, I think so. My head really hurts, though," you said, blinking slowly. "Do you have a farm or a ranch or something?"

"A what?" Tommy asked, confused until he looked down at the horses. "Oh, right. No, but we do got a barn."

"Oh, okay," you said uncertainly. You looked around at the trees as your horse obediently followed Tommy's. It was so quiet. You must have been deep into the woods because you couldn't hear any road noise at all. Looking up, you didn't even see or hear any planes. You had never known quiet like this before. It was almost... peaceful.

You looked back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Jesse, who gave you a nervous smile.

"Is he your dad?" you asked, and Jesse snorted.

"No," he chuckled, then cleared his throat and wiped the smile off his face, becoming serious again. "No, Tommy's just my friend. Our friend," he added, and you slowly nodded before turning back around.

You loosely held the reins in your hands as you made your way through the forest, the only sounds coming from your horses and the birds singing in the branches above your heads. When you crossed a small stream, Tommy called over his shoulder not much further now.

At the end of the forest was a clearing. You could see it already. A huge gate and reinforced walls surrounding what you assumed was home to these men, but it looked like a fortress in the middle of nowhere. There were even guards with guns strolling along the top of the fences.

This didn't seem right.

"Stop," you told your horse, but of course it kept walking.

"Stop!" you shouted, and it pinned its ears back. You looked up at Tommy, who had now turned around in his saddle.

"How - I don't know what I'm doing, tell it to stop! I want to stop!" you told him as the panic rose from your chest and squeezed your throat.

"Pull on the reins," Tommy said, and you quickly tugged them, making the horse come to a sudden halt.

"Where are we? What is this?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him. By now you had made it just outside the gates, and the guards on top were looking at Tommy questioningly.

"This is Jackson," Tommy said calmly, then slid down from his horse to approach you. "This is where we live. We got a doctor here who can take a look at that head wound."

"Why don't you live in a normal house? A normal town? I don't understand," you said, and the tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so frustrated and everything was so confusing and all you wanted to do was go to bed and forget this ever happened.

"I'll explain everythin', I promise, but first we gotta get you to the doc, alright?" he asked as your tears began to fall. Tommy glanced up at the top of the fence and nodded. You watched as a handful of men began to crank open the gate, revealing the beginnings of a quaint -looking town.

"Can you get down? Go slow, I'll catch you if you fall," he said, and when you looked into his eyes, you could see affection there. You did as you were told. Swinging one leg over, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself to the ground, Tommy's hands reassuringly hovering above your shoulders until you were standing on your own two feet.

"Are we... together?" you asked him.

Tommy and Jesse both laughed heartily and then he quickly shook his head.

"No, sugar," he said, a smile still etched across his face. He looked over at the open gate and his smile slowly began to fade. "But we oughta get you to the doc right away."

You sat on the edge of an exam table, head tilted down, chin against your chest as the doctor Tommy introduced as Nick stitched up the laceration on your scalp. He had numbed the area pretty good with something from a very large needle that sent you spiraling into a frenzy until Nick and Tommy managed to calm you down and convinced you they were not in fact trying to drug you and sell you into sex trafficking, like you had accused them of trying to do.

Once the doctor started to work on your injury, Tommy excused himself, mumbling something about needing to talk to someone and that he would be back as soon as possible.

Nick said he had to cut away some of your hair, that you would have a small bald spot for a while, but the rest of your hair would be able to hide it effectively.

After he took care of the cut, he began to examine you further. He flashed a bright light into your eyes, making you wince and recoil. He asked you strange questions that you were confident you didn't answer correctly based on the expression on his face.

"Cordy- what?"

"Cordyceps," he repeated.

"No, I have no idea what that is. Is it a band?" you guessed, and he shook his head.

"Well, you certainly have a concussion, and I'm afraid you have some memory loss," he said, sitting down on the small stool across from you.

"How much is 'some'?"

"Uh, difficult to say, but ten years? Give or take?" he said, and you balked.

"Ten years?!"

He nodded.

"I'm afraid so. Can you tell me the last day you do remember?"

"Well," you began, relaxing your shoulders as you thought. "I remember it was fall, but it was still hot out. I had a long day at work - I'm a banker," you told Nick, and he nodded. "My feet were killing me, I had barely sat down all day. It was family dinner night at my parents' house. Me and my brother go over there every Friday. My dad made ribs out on the grill so he wouldn't heat up the house with the oven. My mom was wearing this new, green dress that I thought looked hideous but I lied and told her it was cute. And my brother was telling us about a girl he had met the weekend before."

Nick looked at you to continue, but when it became clear you were done, he sighed.

"That's the last day you remember?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, finally picking up on the concerned look he was giving you. "Was that really ten years ago?" you asked, softly this time. Nick pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and nodded.

"Oh my god," you breathed, looking around the sparse, run down room. What happened in ten years to make the world look like this? You were about to ask when you heard shouting coming from the lobby of the infirmary.

Nick jumped up and opened the door, then turned back to you.

"I'll be right back," he said, then shut the door quickly behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs lightly swinging as you tried to piece together what you knew.

Ten years.

Ten whole years, just... gone.

What memories did you make in that time? Your mom is dead, but what about the rest of your family? Is there anybody in this town that you might actually remember? You looked down at your body. You thought you looked the same, maybe a little thinner, but otherwise the same. Did you ever get married? Have kids?

The shouting got louder and pulled you out of your reverie. It was a man's voice, and it was growing closer. He sounded angry. Livid, even.

You could now hear him opening up the other exam room doors and calling your name, ignoring the voices of Tommy and Nick urging him to stop, and a jolt of fear shot through you. Glancing around the room, you looked for something, anything that might protect you or reinforce the door, but it was too late.

The door swung open and you jumped off the table. If this man was going to hurt you, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you silently while you did the same. He was tall. Broad shoulders strained underneath a black T-shirt. A blue flannel was clutched in his fist. You could see his muscles twitching under his tanned skin, and when your gaze finally met his, you felt something else other than fear. Something you couldn't quite identify. You knew this man, but you didn't know how.

His hair was dark and had loose curls, similar to Tommy's but shorter and a little lighter. The beard surrounding plush looking lips had a dusting of white at the corners of his jaw, but it was his eyes that drew your attention the most. A deep, beautiful brown that told a whole story in just one moment.

Nick and Tommy stood behind the strange man, looking back and forth between the two of you. Dragging your gaze off of him, you looked at Tommy, hoping he would explain.

Then the man said your name softly and your eyes flicked back to him.

"What?" you finally said with an edge to your voice, growing annoyed with how nobody felt compelled to say anything. They just kept looking at you, waiting for you to acknowledge him as if you'd known him your whole life.

"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked, and your eyes drifted back to him. All three men stared at you, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Slowly, you shook your head, and Joel's face fell.

"Is it permanent?" Joel asked, turning to Nick.

Nick paused, his mouth opening and closing as he considered his answer before clearing his throat.

"It's too soon to say-"

"The fuck d'you mean?!" Joel roared, grabbing Nick by his collar and shoving him up against the door. You stumbled backwards in surprise.

"Joel!" Tommy yelled, yanking on his shoulder, trying to loosen his grip on the poor doctor but Joel just shrugged him off.

"Fix her!" Joel yelled, redness creeping up his neck as he slammed Nick up against the door again.

"I-I can't just fix her! What do you think this is? Look around!" Nick stammered, his fingers clawing at the backs of Joel's hands.

You gasped and felt your knees give out from underneath you. Slowly, you sunk down to the floor, crippled in fear. You huddled against the side of the bed, your hands clamped over your mouth as you rocked back and forth, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.

"Joel! Let 'em go, you're scarin' her!" Tommy yelled, and that finally seemed to snap Joel out of it.

His grip instantly loosened and his head swiveled towards you, his eyes softening when he saw you curled up on the floor. He rushed forward but you held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't come near me."

He froze and stared down at you, hurt written all over his face.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and you flinched. Baby?

"Maybe we should give you two a minute," Tommy said. Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

"N-no! What do you mean? No!" you cried out. You clawed at the table, pulling yourself up as the tears dried on your face. Joel took a few steps back and stood against the wall, crossing his arms and dropping his head, hiding his face.

"It's just Joel, he ain't gonna hurt you," Tommy said softly, but you still shook your head.

"Look what he just did!" you exclaimed, not even caring anymore if you were hurting his feelings. "How can you say that?"

"Because he loves you!" Tommy said, sounding exasperated.

The room fell silent, the only sound coming from you as you struggled to catch your breath. You glanced over at Joel but his chin was still tucked against his chest.

"Is that true?" you asked him. He nodded, but still didn't look up from the spot on the floor.

You sighed and rubbed your palms roughly over face.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? There's just a lot happening right now and I'm very confused," you said, suddenly feeling guilty.

"I get it," Tommy said, looking back and forth between you and Joel, but Joel still appeared to be fixated on the floor. "Why don't you go home and rest. Can she, doc? Maybe some sleep will help?"

Tommy raised his eyebrows at Nick, trying to get him to agree and play along. Say yes. Don't piss off Joel.

"Yeah, perhaps it's a good idea if you went home. There's some evidence to suggest being around a familiar setting might trigger your memory to return," Nick said, and Joel finally looked up from the floor.

"What else can we do?" he asked as your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You really didn't like the idea of going home with this man. He clearly had a short temper and that set you on edge.

"Are there any personal effects that she holds some sentimental value to?"

Your gaze bounced back and forth between the men as they all talked about you like you were some science project.

"Yeah," Joel said with a nod.

"Alright. Start with that. Anything since you've known each other would work best, see if it jogs her memory. A necklace or a trinket-"

"Yeah, I get it," Joel said, finally chancing a look in your direction. You quickly dropped your gaze from him and looked back at Tommy.

"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy, who looked at Joel. Joel didn't say anything, he just stared right back at Tommy, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if he were trying very hard to control his breathing. You looked back and forth between them, waiting for the silent standoff to end.

"I'll be outside," Joel finally muttered, then stalked out of the exam room with Nick in his wake, leaving just you and Tommy.

"I don't want to go home with him."

Tommy sighed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's your home, too," he said.

"He scares me," you replied, crossing your arms. "He's a loose cannon. I-I don't feel like I know anyone here and everyone seems to know me. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how scary that is?"

Tommy dropped his hands and looked up at you.

"No, I don't. And I'm sorry, but I promise you nothin' bad's gonna happen. Joel's always had a short fuse but he would never, ever lay a hand on you. He's been head over heels since the moment he met you, and you love him back, sugar."

You looked around the room, needing a break from eye contact for just a minute while you gathered your thoughts.

"How long have I known him?" you asked.

"Five years."

You nodded and chewed on your lower lip.

"And how long have you known him?"

"All my life."

Your eyes darted over to his in surprise and he gave you a small smile.

"He's my older brother," Tommy explained, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh," was all you said, suddenly feeling like shit for saying such things about his family.

"Listen. Why don't you give it a chance, hm? One day. See how it goes, and if you're still uncomfortable, we'll figure somethin' else out," Tommy offered. You considered it for a moment before reluctantly nodding your head. Aside from just walking out of Jackson, you didn't see much of a choice.

To say the walk to Joel's house was awkward would be putting it mildly.

You weren't sure if he overheard your conversation with Tommy, or maybe he just could sense how you felt about going home with him, but ever since you forced yourself to leave the exam room to find him waiting for you in the lobby, he had been very quiet.

His feelings were hurt, that much was obvious, but what could you do? It wasn't like you set out to intentionally hurt him. You had no idea who he was at the time.

You still weren't sure who he was.

You tried to subtly admire his profile as you walked side by side. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose and a full head of hair, although you could tell he was older than you. By how much, you weren't sure.

You tried to see underneath the gruff exterior, wondering what on earth made you fall in love with him, but it was so hard to see past your first impression.

Well, second first impression.

Then he turned his head to look down at you. Your eyes met and you thought you felt a small flutter in your chest, but you couldn't tell if it was nerves or fear or something else but his eyes were absolutely beautiful. There was something so sincere about them and you found it oddly funny that they seemed to betray the rest of his hardened expression.

"Anythin' lookin' familiar?" he asked you. You blinked and looked around.

The street he was leading you down was filled with people. Children laughing and playing, adults chatting and smiling. If it wasn't for the setting being so strange, it would feel normal. You squinted at some of the faces as you walked by, hoping you would recognize somebody, but you didn't.

"No," you said with a shake of your head, and you thought you saw his shoulders slump next to you but you didn't want to get caught staring at him again, so you focused on looking straight ahead.

The two of you remained silent the rest of the walk, although you could feel the energy radiating off him and for the first time, you began to realize this must be just as hard for him as it was for you.

You were examining the huge watch towers that surrounded the town and wondering what on earth would require such firepower when you realized Joel was no longer at your side. You swiveled your head around, suddenly lost in a sea of people that were smiling at you as they strolled on by but you didn't see a single recognizable face. You felt the panic begin to build again until you heard your name and a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up and actually felt relief when you saw Joel.

"Sorry, thought you were still with me," he said, then tilted his head towards a side street he must have began to walk down without you.

"We live down here," he added. You heard someone call out both your names as you walked down the street. Joel waved to an older gentleman on his porch and after a brief delay, you waved as well.

"This is so weird," you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around.

"Yeah, I reckon it is."

Joel stopped short in front of a small, two-story house with a large front porch. You looked up at it, taking in every detail. The shutters, the rocking chairs, the small garden out front surrounded by a white picket fence, hoping something would click but you still felt nothing.

"This is your house?" you asked him. He watched you carefully as you continued to look around, wishing he would see something in your eye that would give him a shred of hope.

"Our house, yeah," he corrected you. You glanced up at him and quickly looked away, feeling too guilty when you saw the look on his face.

"Sorry," you whispered.

"Don't be sorry," he told you, but he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced around. "D'you wanna look inside?"

You nodded and followed him past the gate and up the little stone path that led to his - your - porch steps. A flash of yellow in the garden caught your eye and for the first time, a small smile played upon your lips.

"Oh, I love black-eyed susans," you said dreamily, your hand instinctually reaching out to touch the delicate petals.

"Yeah, I know. You told me your mom planted 'em every year," he said, stopping at the top of the steps to look down at you.

"That's right," you said with a smile. "Although it drove her crazy because-"

"The bunnies kept destroyin' 'em," he finished for you.

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment: him, waiting for you to remember, and you, wondering how you could forget.

"Yeah," you finally said, then dropped your gaze and cleared your throat, giving the flowers one last look before ascending the stairs to the front door.

Joel unlocked the door, pushing it open all the way and stepping aside so you could go in first. You peered inside for a moment before taking a step forward.

The first thing you noticed was it smelled faintly like firewood and coffee. The kitchen was to your left, living room to your right, and a staircase was in front of you next to a small hallway that appeared to lead to a back door of the house.

Joel stepped inside behind you and shut the door quietly, allowing you to take your time and process everything at your own speed. He desperately wanted to drag you around the house and show you things you should remember, but he refrained. Instead, his eyes followed where yours went. When you looked at the kitchen table, he thought remember when we had breakfast there this morning? When you looked at the fireplace, he thought remember on our anniversary when we couldn't make it up the stairs quickly enough so we made love in front of the fire? When you noticed the board games, boxes all frayed and worn, sitting on a bookshelf next to the couch, he thought remember when you beat Ellie in Scrabble and she flipped the board over?

But of course, you didn't remember any of those things.

You looked around blankly, and he could tell you were trying to remember but not a single shred of recognition flickered across your face. Your eyes landed on the kitchen counter and you took a step forward.

"We had coffee together today, didn't we?"

Joel's heart fluttered excitedly in his chest.

"Yeah, you remember that?" he asked, quickly joining you at your side. You looked up at him and he could immediately tell what your answer would be.

"No, I'm sorry, it's just-" you pointed to the two mugs still sitting together on the counter and he nodded solemnly.

"Oh, right," he said, then walked over to pick them up and rinse them off in the sink. He turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you slowly navigate the kitchen. Opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up a recipe book and flipping through it, then looking at the paintings on the walls.

"Did you or I draw this?" you asked, stepping towards a portrait that was clearly of him.

"Neither. Ellie did it," he told you, and you looked at him curiously.

"Ellie?"

He nodded and just as he was about to open his mouth to explain, the front door whipped open, startling you.

"Is it true?" a young girl with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail asked as she barged into the kitchen. When her eyes landed on you, she dropped her book bag and stepped forward, peering at you as if you were under a microscope.

"Ellie-" Joel began, pushing off the counter, but she cut him off.

"People are saying you lost your memory or something, is that true?" she asked again, and you nodded slowly.

"Holy shit!" she sputtered, and Joel repeated her name again, but harsher this time.

"Sorry," she mumbled, then pulled out a stool that was tucked under the kitchen island and plopped herself down. "Are you, like, okay? How's your head?"

"Uh, better now. The doctor gave me some medicine and it finally stopped hurting so much, but I got a pretty bad cut," you reached back and touched the bald spot with your fingertips. "He had to stitch it up."

"Can I see?" she asked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little, completely missing the way Joel perked up when he heard it.

"Sure," you said, turning around and lifting up your hair. "Can you see it?"

"Yeah, fucking gross, dude," she said with a shudder. You dropped your hair and turned back around.

"Is she your daughter?" you asked Joel, and Ellie burst out laughing.

"No way," she said, and he just rolled his eyes.

"I don't understand," you said with a frown. "Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," she told you so casually it almost gave you whiplash.

"Oh, my god! I'm so sorry," you said, feeling terrible, but she just gave you a look like you were crazy. Maybe you were.

"It's cool," she said, looking back and forth between you and Joel. "So she really doesn't remember anything?" Ellie asked him.

"Only stuff from... before," he said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie as if trying to silently communicate with her.

"Oh," she said, nodding slowly as if she understood. "Shit."

"Before what?" you pressed, but they both ignored your question.

"Why don't you give her some time to settle in," Joel told Ellie. "Meet us later for dinner at the Bison."

"Yeah, okay," Ellie said, sliding off the stool and picking up her abandoned backpack.

"You don't live here?" you asked her.

"Sorta. I live in the garage, see?" she said, pointing out the window to a building out back with a large window in the front and a small light next to the door.

"In the garage?" you repeated, appalled, but she just laughed.

"It used to be a garage. Joel helped me fix it up and it's more like a guest house now. Right, Joel?"

"Yeah," he said, walking deeper into the kitchen so he could look through the window with you. "You helped her paint it," he said quietly.

"I did?" you asked, and they both nodded.

It looked like they were both waiting for you to say something further, waiting for you to maybe recall the color or the weather that day, but nothing was ringing a bell. You looked at them hopelessly and Joel averted his gaze.

"Go on, Ellie. I'm sure you got schoolwork," he said, and she rolled her eyes as she turned and headed towards the door.

You watched her walk through the backyard and unlock the garage, catching a brief glimpse of the inside before she shut it softly behind her.

"You wanna go lay down for a bit?" Joel asked after he noticed you yawn, and you nodded. You followed him up the creaky staircase, your eyes drifting over everything you could find, hoping something would jump out at you along the way. When he got to the top of the stairs, he stopped suddenly between two bedroom doors and you gave him a confused look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, the look on his face beginning to worry you.

"Nothin', I just realized..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, still staring at the two doors. "We share a room and I just realized tonight'll be the first time in years we sleep apart."

You looked away, feeling uncomfortable. You could see the anguish all over his face. His jaw ticked to the side and he was blinking faster than usual and the guilt was burning a hole in your stomach.

"I'll stay in the spare room," you said, breaking the tension. "Can you just show me where I keep my stuff and I'll-"

"No," Joel said, shaking his head. "I'll go in the spare room. You stay in our room. Maybe it'll help... it should be more familiar to you in there."

You decided not to argue with him. He finally stepped towards the door on the right and pushed it open, leading you into a master suite with a queen sized bed in the middle of the room. There was a quilt on top that appeared to be handmade in various shades of greys and purples. You ran your hand over the material thoughtfully while Joel opened a few dresser drawers and pulled out some spare clothes for himself.

"This is pretty," you said, and he turned around to look at the quilt.

"Becky a few doors down makes 'em," he said, turning back to the dresser. "You really wanted purple and I fought you on it, but you always win," he said with a chuckle. You smiled to yourself as you continued to look around the room while Joel collected a few more belongings. You noticed a pair of reading glasses on top of an old western book on one end table. The other end table had a few loose hair ties, a homemade lip balm, and a black, leather bound book with a pen on top. Without even thinking, you walked forward and picked it up, flipping through the pages one by one. It appeared to be a journal, and it looked like it was your handwriting.

Joel stepped out of the bathroom attached to your room and saw you holding the book. He swallowed and watched your face closely, looking for any sign that what you were reading made sense.

"I was gonna show you that tomorrow. Thought it would be too much today," he said after a few minutes.

"I kept a journal?"

"Yeah. You don't write it in often, but sometimes if somethin' special happened, or you just felt the urge, you would write it down," he said, putting his toiletries next to his clothes on the bed.

You closed the book and placed it back on the table, staring at the old cover, lost in thought. You had a million questions and you had to start somewhere.

"Joel... what happened?" you asked him. He frowned, not following at first until you clarified. "In the world, I mean. What happened? Because all of this," you waved your hands around the room and gestured out through the window. "This doesn't seem right. Did I join a cult or something?"

Joel shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't wanna overwhelm you," he began. You sat down as well, making sure to put plenty of distance between you.

"I'm already overwhelmed. Just please... tell me what's going on."

He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall.

"The world ended," he said bluntly, glancing in your direction. You stiffened but you waited for him to elaborate. "It was quick. Happened on a Friday, everythin' was gone by Monday. There's this fungus called cordyceps-"

"Nick asked me about that," you said, and he nodded.

"Well, best guess is the fungus mutated and got into the food supply. It, uh, it infects the brain. It grows and takes over, but it doesn't kill you. Well, not technically." He could see the confusion on your face. He wasn't explaining this right. "The fungus wants to spread, you see? That's it's basic function. If it killed the host, it wouldn't be able to spread. So, the host remains alive, but they're no longer... them."

"And the hosts are... people?" you guessed, and Joel nodded.

"Yeah. Spread like wildfire. One person would get bit-"

"Bit?" you repeated, eyes wide.

"Yeah, it's how the fungus spreads. Through blood. One person would get bit and they turn within hours."

"And there's no cure?"

Joel paused and took a deep breath, his gaze darting nervously around the room.

"No, there's no cure," he finally said.

You sat back on the bed and thought about what Joel just told you. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense. She died the first day.

"And my family?" you asked softly, closing your eyes as you waited for the answer. Joel looked at you, his heart breaking that he had to deliver the news.

"They didn't make it," he said, and one tear slowly escaped and slid down your cheek. "It was a miracle you even made it. That any of us made it," he added, hoping to take the sting out of it.

"A miracle?" you scoffed, opening your eyes now. "How do you figure, Joel? What's the fucking point in living like this?" you asked him angrily, standing up from the bed and pacing around the room.

"Don't say that," he said sadly, rising to his feet. "Believe me, I thought the same thing," he said, unconsciously scratching at the scar on his cheek. "But it turns out there's plenty to live for. It ain't so bad."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" you challenged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What is there to live for? Because I have to be honest, I'm not seeing it."

Joel swallowed as he watched you angrily move around the room.

"Love," he said quietly, and you stopped. You stood with your back to him, your shoulders rising and falling as anger and frustration coursed through you.

Finally, you turned to look at him, tears silently falling.

"But everyone I loved is dead," you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. "My family is dead! Everyone I know is gone! What do I have left?" You dropped your hands and looked at him, tears steadily falling as you waited, completely forgetting the obvious answer.

"You have me," he said, his voice cracking. "And I know that don't mean much now, but I promise you, it will."

Your head fell forward, chin tucking into your chest with your hands on your hips.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still looking down. "That was so rude, I didn't mean to say it like that."

"This is hard for me, too," he said, taking a few steps towards you, then stopped. He wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close, tell you everything was going to be okay, but he had to remind himself that he was essentially a stranger to you.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin' for somethin' that ain't your fault," he told you sternly. You dragged your eyes back up to him, your shoulders slumped forward, eyes puffy and red.

"What if my memory never comes back?" you whispered. It was a question Joel didn't want to ask out loud but knew eventually it would be brought up. He took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye.

"Then I'll have to make you fall in love with me all over again," he said with a small shrug, and you let out a huff of laughter at that.

"You sound pretty confident," you replied.

"I did it once before, I can do it again," he told you, his gaze never wavering. "I'll never stop tryin'. What we have together, it's... it's rare. And it might sound stupid, but we're meant to be together. If you let me, I'll prove it to you."

Something in his eye made you feel calmer the longer you looked at him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking. He meant every word. You tore your gaze away from him and looked around the room again. The room you shared with him. The room where you held each other, kissed each other, made love together. Years of memories etched into the floorboards. Countless secrets whispered into the pillows. Laughter and tears echoed against the walls. Your eyes found him again just to realize he never looked away. He stood tall and firm in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for you. And you had to assume if he felt this strongly about what you had, then it must be worth fighting for.

"Okay."

Follow @punkshort-notifs for fic updates ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #protective joel #joel miller x you #joel tlou #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #Pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #ikwya fic

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the-scandalorian · 1 month

Text

Pairing: Din Djarin x female sex worker!reader Rating: E, 18+ Word Count: 3.1k Content Warnings: touch-starved Din; reader is blindfolded; smut Summary: Mando makes regular visits to the healing baths. Note: A big thank you to @frannyzooey for always enabling my depravity and finding the dope ass images for my header ❤︎

He always waits for you inside the door.

“It’s the least I can do,” he says, when you’re surprised by the unexpected touch the first time. A light hand cups your elbow, guiding you to the middle of the room, until you can feel the smooth tiles that mark the edge of the sunken pool with your bare toes.

The marble is slick with condensation, heated by the same geothermal source that warms the spring water. The air is steamy and humid, braided with the rich scents of cardamom and argan oil, of rose from the petals you know are strewn across the surface of the bath. Candles flicker languidly in the shadowy corners of the room, but you can’t detect any of their light.

When you lower yourself to the floor—carefully, blindly—he checks the tightness of the black silk wrapped around your eyes with gentle fingers. He reassures himself it’s secure, that you can’t see a thing through the fabric in the dark, hazy room. A reassurance he needs every time.

You come to expect it. To expect him.

He’s consistent. He’s hesitant.

It takes dozens of visits before he lets you join him in the bath. You always offer; he always refuses—politely, always so politely: a no, thank you, eventually paired with a fleeting touch. A warm hand placed over yours. Two fingers stroked down the red silk of your dress. If you’re lucky, a squeeze to the thick of your thigh or a graze of your cheek. His denial is so soft, so warm—so regretful—that you ask every time just to hear him want it.

When he inevitably says no, you sit behind him on a velvet cushion on the edge of the pool instead, swathed in the inky blackness of your blindfold, your feet dangling in the warm water, and work scented oils into his skin and tension out of his shoulders, his neck, his arms, his back, his chest. Your existence is reduced to tactile information, your world narrowed to the sensations in your hands—the textures at the tips of your fingers. The taut muscles of his shoulders, the raised scars that litter his arms and chest, the hair dusted over his pectorals, the callouses on his palms. All slick with water, slippery with massage oil.

The helmet stays on for the first handful of visits. You know by the modulated sound of his voice, by the brush of beskar against your wrist when you work a knuckle into the base of his stiff neck. It disappears somewhere around the tenth visit. When he meets you at the door, your name sounds markedly different. You don’t mention it, don’t draw attention to it, but you do enjoy the unfiltered, raw quality of his voice from then on.

The noises he makes when you touch him are always better than you remember. Their tone and cadence mark a gradual progression from high strung and uneasy to mellow and sedate as the tension coiled in his muscles dissipates under your hands. The harsh exhales devolve into low groans, quiet grunts. Sounds of pleasure waited too long to be had, of physical release so desperately needed. Every once in a while, when you work out a particularly stubborn knot, he murmurs a hushed, rumbling oh, fuck.

Once, when you earn a delicious moan paired with a strained, needy fuck, just like that, he bites off the last word so harshly that you know it was involuntary.

It turns you on more than the touch of any client ever has.

Even with the blindfold, you can feel the burn of his eyes on your skin. Its weight is familiar from the start, when you meet him at the entrance to the baths, the echoing stone entry hall with its gilded fixtures and branches of guttering candles. A balled fist rested on the counter, he nods at you in all his armored glory, a cordial gesture that seems to gain gravity and intimacy each time he offers it. The black visor follows your walk down the long hallway to your rooms, dips to your hips when he thinks you’re not looking. Heavy, substantial. Pressure that could be measured, harsh enough to leave an imprint in its wake.

It stays on you until you shut the door between you, leaving you in the antechamber to tie on your blindfold and him in the main room to undress.

When you knock and enter, you can still track his gaze despite the layers of black silk—the feeling of it like a searing brand. Settled on your face when you smile up at him. Dragged over the curves of your breasts when you shamelessly tip forward to trail fingers through the water and they just barely begin to spill over the low cut of your dress. Trained on the movement of your tongue when you part your lips and lick a slow, gratuitous line over the bottom one. Riveted to the dark space between your legs when you spread your knees unnecessarily wide and the fabric of your thin, short dress rides up your thighs.

You tell yourself not to hope for more.

Then one day he shows up, and you can tell something is off. His usual steady, controlled energy has been replaced with a pent-up buzz. He’s worked up. You can hear it in his clipped words, feel it in the extra touches. The hand on your lower back guides you to the pool almost hurriedly.

His shoulders are even tighter than usual when you get your hands on them, his back a series of stony knots. He groans when you work at the tension in his neck, your thumbs digging into the tautness at the base of his skull. And when you offer yourself this time, feeling optimistic that you’ll get your most reluctant no yet, a strong hand guides you slowly and wordlessly down the smooth stone steps to join him in the water.

Reflexively, you pull your dress up and over your head, tossing it behind you before the hem can catch in the water. You lose his touch in the process, but a path of goosebumps down your body echoes the course of his gaze as it pulls along your curves. You can feel his attention, his captivation at your nakedness in the fervent tension that snaps taut between you.

His invitation is so unexpected, though, that once you’re standing in the hot, waist-deep water, you’re stunned motionless. Disoriented. You don’t know where he is for a moment; you feel his hot gaze everywhere, all at once. You never actually thought you’d get this far with him, and now it feels daunting—the darkness of blindfold, the ever-changing line of his limits and preferences. You feel untethered.

Until the water shifts and he touches you.

“Beautiful,” he says, damp fingers following the curve of your cheek so lightly you can only just feel them.

You take his hand in both of yours and kiss his palm, soft lips brushing over rough skin. He catches you under your chin, and one fingertip traces your lips, his other hand settling on your waist, flexing.

You don’t want to push him too fast, and you also want to take full advantage of this opportunity while you finally have it.

You part your lips, and his fingers still.

You let your tongue peek out to circle the pad of one finger, inviting. To your delight, he responds by carefully pushing two fingers into your mouth. When you close your lips around them and suck, he lets out a broken, pained sound, pressing down on your tongue lightly before he eases them back out and drags a wet line down your chin to settle his hand around your throat.

You smile up at him, unseeing, as you trail fingers down his chest, the soft give of his stomach, dipping below the water as you reach the ridge of his hipbone. Moving slowly, always slowly, so he can stop you if he wants to.

Sure enough, his hand finds yours, trapping it against his skin. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to," you interrupt. "I want to touch you.”

It’s an understatement. There isn’t enough time to share all the myriad ways you’ve fantasized about touching him.

“I’ve thought about this since the first time I saw you walk in here in your armor,” you say, letting your voice pitch low. “What you’d feel like under all that metal.”

His hand disappears, and yours slips further down the v of his hips to wrap around the base of his cock. Hard, thick, big like you knew it would be.

“I think about it every time I work my way down your chest. How easy it would be to slip my hands lower...to see if you enjoy having my hands on your body as much as I do.”

He breathes out slowly, but his whole body is rigid as you drag your other hand over his shoulder, down his chest, a granite statue under your touch even as you start to work him over in long, luxurious strokes.

“I’ve been dying to know, Mando.”

His cock twitches in your hand, his skin hot and slick as it pulls over his hard length. He isn’t relaxing into your touch like he usually does, and this white-knuckled, shallow-breath, penitent version of pleasure is not at all what you’d intended for him, what he deserves.

You tip your face up toward his. “I need you to relax for me. Can you do that?”

A rough exhalation. Noncommittal, a little wry.

You step closer, gingerly moving into his space. He lets you. The water shifts around you as you move into him, close enough that your breasts brush his warm body and you can place a soft kiss on his chest. His ribs expand in a rapid, deep inhale, a rough hitching breath, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck.

You press him backward with a palm to his sternum, and he resists reflexively, his feet planted firmly. A man not so easily moved. Who is used to doing the telling, not being told.

“Sit for me?”

He relents with a hum, going pliant for you as you back him up to sit on the submerged marble bench. He helps you climb up, strong hands guiding your movements, settling you onto your knees in a straddle over his lap.

You dip your head to find the crook of his neck and lavish open-mouthed kisses on his throat, below his ear, automatically respecting the limits of where his helmet would be, as you move your hand between your bodies. You’ve never touched above his neck and won’t change that now, even though you’re dying to trace the contours of his face, to fit your lips to his.

Perched over him, you can feel his body gradually relax under your attention, his posture softening, his breath dropping into a more natural cadence. His hands find your hips, your thighs, slide back to grip your ass, as you begin to increase the pace of your stroke.

“Have you, Mando? Have you thought about this?”

You feel him nod once against the side of your head. Jerky, frantic.

“Good,” you purr into his skin, letting your teeth drag over his collarbone.

He groans, his hips lifting off the bench to push himself into your grip harder. The heat that always simmers in your core when you’re around him grows and spreads. It’s overwhelming—so much of his bare skin on your bare skin, after so long with so little. Almost feverish as you move together in the hot water.

Your hand pauses mid-stroke; his hands tighten in protest, sliding you a tiny bit closer on his tense thighs. “Do you think about me?”

His ragged breathing stalls. He nods again. “All the time.”

You hum, pleased, and resume the tight pull of your fist. Your own arousal is approaching a blistering point, so hot and bright, and he’s barely touching you—one hand on your ass, the other dragged up your body to palm your breast, his strong thighs pressed to the inside of yours. He rolls your nipple between two fingers, and you gasp.

“Feel so good,” he rasps, the heavy weight of his hands reverent as they catalog the slopes and rises of your body. “Just like I imagined.”

You can’t help but think about how easily you could sit on his cock right now. All it would take is a slight shift and tilt of your hips and you could catch the blunt head at your entrance. He’d stretch you so deliciously—that girth and length—but your wetness would let you work yourself down onto his lap until he was filling you completely. You’d fuck an orgasm out of him, riding him until he found his release in the tight clutch of your body, milking his cock until he shuddered from the oversensitivity.

One day. Maybe.

He’s close—you can tell by the strain in his voice, by his ragged breath, by the way his hands tighten on your ass. By the way he wraps one large hand around yours on his cock, tightening your grip.

“Just like that.”

You’d give anything to see his face when you feel the urgent flex of his hips as he fucks into your joined hands, the jerk and shudder of his large frame as it curves over you, his forehead dropping to rest heavily on your shoulder as he moans brokenly through the pleasure. It’s the most intimate part of all of this—so human, so trusting. So tempting to reach up and touch his face, to put detail to what you’ve imagined so many times.

You regret that your hand is submerged in water, that you can’t feel his hot release slide over the dips and swells of your knuckles. That you won't be able to lick it off your fingers—to taste it, for your own pleasure and for his. To listen to the sounds he’d make as he watched you eat his come.

Instead, when it’s over, when he’s finished, the weight of his forehead lifts from your shoulder and his touch abandons your body. You resist the urge to search it out, to ask for it back.

You imagine how he looks unwound underneath you, his head tipped back against the edge of the pool, muscles slack. His body finally truly relaxed.

Your part is done.

He’s never spent this long here, and you imagine he’s hyperaware of that. Always on a timeline. Some small part of you thought maybe—hoped—this time would be different, that maybe he’d linger, that maybe he’d want to touch you. You slide backward off his lap to take your leave reluctantly, but when you reach blindly for the edge of the pool, there’s the sound of quick movement through the water and he closes a hand around your wrist.

Relief courses through your veins.

He doesn’t say anything, just guides you. You can’t tell what his aim is until he arranges your body over his just so—just the way he wants you. He has you straddle his lap backwards this time, your back flush to his chest, your knees opened wide by the spread of his legs between yours.

You think about what he does for work, the command and skill it requires. Those capable hands and sure grip have wrestled so many bounties into submission—into handcuffs, into rope bindings, into his carbonite chamber—and here they are exerting their power and ability for the sake of your pleasure. Blunt instrument, suddenly fine.

His breath is hot by your ear, his heavy hand settling meaningfully on your inner thigh. “Can I—?”

“Yes. Fuck, please—”

You guide his hand between your legs, desperate, and his mouth finds the back of your neck. His mouth. Stubble scrapes across your skin, soft lips molding to the contour of your shoulder. The heat that’s been building in your body, that started as a low smolder in your core, has been growing to a rolling boil the whole time you were touching him. And his mouth on your body? Like striking a match to gasoline.

The reality of the situation, the surprise of this touch, ratchets your arousal to a precipitous height. It’s the sheer brazenness of it—the unflinching way he’s taking such a huge step. In the name of your pleasure, of his desire to taste you.

The offering of such intimacy, a secret shared.

A warm tongue blazes a lazy trail from the notch of your vertebra to your nape as two fingers slip into the slit of your sex, beginning a slow massage of your clit. Your mind goes blank.

It’s almost embarrassing how easily he makes you come, how little time it takes with his hand between your legs and his lips on your skin. He fucks you with two thick fingers, another swirling over your clit, and you wonder vaguely how he knows how to curl the two inside you just right against your g-spot.

You reach behind you to grip the back of his neck as you arch, your hips circling. He hooks his chin over your shoulder and you go molten at the thought that he’s watching himself finger-fuck you to climax.

“Are you going to—?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

“Good.”

It's said through clenched teeth, a gritted jaw. He’s deriving so much pleasure from your pleasure, it's dizzying.

Teeth close over your shoulder and he bites down as you begin shudder and shake, as you clench and spasm around the thrust of his fingers—as you listen to his voice break on a groan as he feels it and draws it out—until the pleasure wanes and you melt back against him, boneless and sated, his strong body an anchor underneath you in the water.

You pant together, your head tipped back to rest on his shoulder, and all you can think about is how fucking close his lips are to yours. You could turn your face and kiss his jaw. He could angle your head and push his tongue into your mouth so easily. You’re so pliant; you want it so badly.

You consider asking. And then you consider the fact that he’s likely thinking about the same thing—your closeness is palpable, the tension a live, shivering thing—and he isn’t doing anything about it. He isn’t fitting a hand to your cheek to maneuver you just so.

You won’t ask for something he isn’t ready to offer.

When he finally does let you go, this visit that was so different from the others ends the same. He guides you back to the exit and hands you the robe that hangs by the door. As he helps you shoulder it on, he murmurs a sincere thank you, accompanied by a rumble of your name.

There’s one notable difference: as you're walking through the doorway, he catches your hand and squeezes it fleetingly before letting it drop.

The door shuts behind you with a click.

As always, a stack of credits far too high will be left in the room for you, and just like every other time, you’ll wait impatiently for his return.

#din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x f!reader #mando x f!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x female reader #mando x female reader #the mandalorian x female reader

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kiwanopie · 1 year

Text

Strawberry Jam

Your best friend has a sweet tooth.

cw: college!bokuto, oral(f!receving), dubcon, manhandling if you squint. 1.3k

“Ah shit!” Bokuto frowns. “I dropped my pencil.”

You absently hum at the sound of his voice from the ledge of your laptop. “Hm-?”

The sound of a skidding chair barely disrupts your line of focus from where it’s locked on your midterm - but the sound of his head knocking a bit against the underside of the table does pull a little chuckle from you. You glance at your keyboard through a few dull taps on your mousepad, but at the very least you’re considerate enough to mumble a quiet ‘You okay?’

Bokuto makes a huffy little whining sound that you opt to ignore in favor of letting your best friend crawl about the carpet like a mouse. Patting his palms against the plush nylon of your bedroom floor as he searches for his pencil, and you’re really no help when you make less than an effort to move your legs as he knocks against them.

The blue light turns the darkening room behind you a washed navy, whatever he just knocked his back against just unplugged the desk light. “You can just borrow one of mine y’know.”

“But this one’s special! It has my name engraved on it and everything!”

“Why would you-“ You spam the backspace bar for a loud couple clicks. “Why would you buy something like that if you know it’s gonna get shaved away anyway?”

“Because it’s cool… And I’ll know if someone steals it!”

Bokuto roots for the little punctures on the outlet through a few messy jabs of his fingers. “Your room eats up all my stuff.”

The fact that you can physically hear him pouting is enough to make you wanna audibly scoff. Especially when his little nest across the hall has already swallowed up a pair of your headphones, a few mismatched socks, and a volume of that manga you’ve been collecting since last spring. And anyways, it’s totally his fault. He’s the one who keeps treating your room like a second bedroom. You can’t even sift through your hamper without finding some of your clothes mixed up with his.

But instead of making that point, you pull a little piece of skin off your bottom lip that tastes metallic when you tuck it under your tongue, switching tabs to double check your sources and mumble a little sarcastically under your breath. “Sorry ‘bout my room eating your stuff.”

The way the room bursts into a warm haze barely phases you anymore than the hollow tap of thin wood clinking just before your feet. If Bokuto’s gasp should mean anything, a number two pencil gets to live to see another day.

“Find it?”

“I found it!”

Bokuto snorts at your halfhearted ‘Hoorah.” as he turns on his knees to crawl out from under the table. Blithely grunting his way through the cramped little space, but stopping on the heel of his palm when he notices something.

“Oh, hey!”

“Hmm?”

He ducks his head for a better view of your skirt. “What’s up with these undies?”

“Hm? Oh.” You lift your back a little, even still your eyes are locked on the screen. “You got a problem with Strawberry Shortcake?”

“No, I like them! They’re cute.”

You blow a tickled breath out through your nose. You should kick him for being a perv and peeking up your skirt. But really you’re just thankful he didn’t tease you for being childish after you just ragged on his special pencil.

Your elbow digs into the desk with a squeak as you rest your jaw in your palm, your voice is an absent drone. “Thanks, they’re strawberry flavored.”

The shift key clicks as you start a new paragraph.

And then your knees are colliding with the table. “Wha- They’re not actually strawberry flavored!”

The way you startledly flinch is hardly enough to deter Bokuto’s hot mouth from the front side of your panties, but the way he hums - runs a thorough lick through your clothed slit and pulls away, makes it hard for you not to outwardly shutter. “They’re not? No way, I totally taste it.”

“Bokut-“ You lay your hand against his scalp when he leans in to dig his nose in. “Don’t just start doing something like that out of nowhere!”

Wow, he’s really slobbering all over those poor things isn’t he? “Y’want me to stop?”

“N-…No, but-”

He digs his tongue in with a fervor.

It’s a few tempered licks before he’s finally reaching forward to tug your panties to the side, molten tongue massaging attentively over your clit as the way he’s all but mushing his head into your soaked cunt inclines you to scoot into your seat. - Although the distance is short lived. You’re helpless to stop him when he uses his weight to push the chair back enough to lift his head freely, and you're all but yanked onto your back as he secures your legs over his shoulders, lifting on his knees to eat you out from a better angle.

The position is a little awkward but the sensation is incredible. This guy is drinking you up like it’s all he knows how to do. The angle opens you up from top to bottom, his tongue doesn’t leave a spot untouched. You’d almost be embarrassed with all the noise you’re making, but his drunken moans are a contest to yours.

“Ko, you’re-“ Oh god, your poor chair. “You’re… making such a mess…!”

He makes a gluttonned sound of indignation. “S’your fault. ‘Pussy tastes so good…”

You whine. That’s your best friend talking to you like that. You don’t even know where this came from. One minute he’s a bumbling teddy bear, rooting around your carpet for his stupid novelty pencil, the next he’s-

“You’re g’nna cum in my mouth?” He noses your clit. “Gonna let me drink your cum? Yeah?”

You claw at the arms locked over your thighs. “Koutarou! K-Ko! Fuck… Oh my god…”

“You taste so fucking sweet. What kind of friend holds out on another when they know they’ve got the-“ The way he spits on your messy cunt makes your pretty eyes roll. “Most perfectest pussy in the whole wide world?”

That’s not a word. But you get the sentiment. Especially when he punctuates it by circling his middle finger around your tight little hole and eases it in with his tongue pressed against your clit. Deep guttural groan that reverberates throughout your entire body at the way your cunt suckles on his finger, gushing for him so eagerly that you start to drip down his arm. Your pretty pussy seems intent on making him fall in love with it. Love struck even when he slides another finger in. And it’s all he can do not go mad when you start to drunkenly hump into his face.

“Oh god, Ko! Fuck me! Fuck me!”

Bokuto moans as your legs lock behind his shoulders, you’re so fucking hot he could die. “Mhm! Mhm!”

He’s rocking into you so thoroughly with his fingers that the chair starts to creek. The way the veins in his arm deliciously pop is enough to send you over the edge. “Ohhhh fuck! Cumming! m’ cumming!”

Bokuto sloshes his tongue over your clit as you spasm around his fingers. Wet noises double in volume as he continues to fuck into you, even when your leg kicks up from the amount of overstimulation. He just barely gives when you start to push his head away.

“Sorry, sorry!” Bokuto raises his head. “You’re just too fucking good.”

He helps you shimmy your sodden panties down your legs as you tiredly upright yourself in your seat, kissing your knee for good measure. “Hey, we’re still friends right?”

You nod. Though your throbbing clit says otherwise. “Yeah, you’re still my buddy.”

“Yay!” And you could almost giggle at how happy-go-lucky he can still look with your cum all over his face.

He holds your soaked underwear in his hand and they squish a little in his palm. “Can I keep these?”

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#‘you’re best friend has a sweet tooth’ im so smart #hq smut #bokuto smut #college!bokuto #bokuto koutaro x reader #bokuto x reader #hq bokuto #bokuto imagines #bokuto x you #msby bokuto #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#hq x reader #haikyuu!! smut #hq oneshot #haikyuu oneshot

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chastiefoul · 5 months

Text

wriothesley isn't a patient man.

he thought he was. but then you keep making him second-guess himself and he never does that as well.

for when days where the paperworks had become so dull and repetitive, and his thought drifted to you; his home. your oh-so-wonderful smile as you greeted him at the front door, sometimes so excited that he could tell you were in the middle of something before you ran up to him. you wrapped your arms around him and something has never felt so right as he inhaled deep on your scent. peaceful, cozy, yet unbelievably intoxicating. like a dream that's within grab and wriothesley's actually has it in the tight hold of his palm. you; his world.

days when the clock just moved excruciatingy slow, that a ridiculous ideas started to pop up in his mind. such as this one as he gazed at the abomination of a drink that sigewinne insisted calling as milkshakes. and as he drank the strange liquid, a bizarre indescribable taste trickled down his throat, he focused on that instead of the longing at the back of his mind as it reached carefully close to the tip of his foot, wanting no more than to carry himself home the sweet you.

taking a walk within the fortress perimeter as he patrolled, bows and salutes of the inmates crowding him yet all he could think about was the feel of your hand in his. scenes where you'd occasionally took a walk alongside each other. a brief moment of escape with you, the warmth, where he's not the ardent duke and he's just wriothesley, the flawed man. until one person came too close and he snapped out of his trance and sighed. daydreaming on broad daylight, a trip to the pankration ring will surely take his mind off of you, right?

an arduous day where a special meal from the coupon cafeteria barely excite him anymore. and if he could trade hundreds of that delicious goodness for a few minutes with you, he knew he'd do it in a heartbeat. yet all he could do was eat his food, as he recalled the giddy look on your face when he told you the first time about the special menu as you dig in happily. it was only wriothesley's lunch-time yet he couldn't be more eager to the dinner with you that night.

a monotonous routine where he spent years getting used to until you came. proving the hard-working man who spent his past worked himself to the bone bit-by-bit to collect credit coupons to slowly raised to the top that perhaps his patience wasn't as great as he remembered. you, who's the root of all his desire, the source in which he dared to once more put hope in. a heartbeat to where he had given half of him to.

as the day closing in, he put his duty to rest. a spring on his step as it quickened against the metal surface on the way to the place's lift. will anyone even believe the steps belong to none other than their serious and graceful duke?

seriously, wriothesley thought he was a patient man--and he is.

except when it comes to you.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin fanfic #genshin fluff #wriothesley x y/n #wriothesley x you #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley fluff

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fvsm4x · 6 months

Text

#ROOMMATE [Geto suguru]

SUMMARY: You were in your room, hoping for a nap, but it was ruined by loud moans next door.

— C.W: roommate! Geto suguru x insecure female reader , alcohol , drinking , angst , insecurity, comparing , jealousy, 18+ , nsfw , marking , nipple play , begging , creampie , teasing , oral , not proofread!

— WORD COUNT : 6.3k+

— A/N: I got carried away a bit..

masterlist

You lay in your room, yearning for a moment of peace and a quick nap, the gentle hum of your ceiling fan offering a soothing backdrop. The world outside your window was bathed in soft sunlight, a rare moment of tranquility in your otherwise busy life. A deep sigh escaped your lips as you closed your eyes, drifting into the beginnings of a well-deserved nap.

However, just as you began to slip into that hazy realm of rest, an unexpected interruption jarred you from your reverie. It started as faint, barely audible sounds coming from the room next door. You furrowed your brows, initially dismissing it as mere background noise.

But as the moans grew louder and more passionate, it became abundantly clear that the tranquility you so desperately sought was now out of reach. Your peace was shattered, and the source of this disruption was impossible to ignore: your roommate's fervent lovemaking, echoing through the walls and into your ears.

Your eyes snapped open, and you were left to ponder how you could possibly regain the serenity you had hoped for.

You spring out of bed and stormed to the wall that separated your room from your roommates , your palm landing on it with a loud, resounding slam.

"Keep it down!" you barked, hoping they‘ll hear you and be quiet,"Some of us are trying to get some rest!"

But instead of getting quieter, their moans grew louder, accompanied by laughter.

It seemed as if they were intentionally flaunting their intimacy, pushing the boundaries of your patience. The thin walls of the apartment complex did little to shield you from the explicit sounds of their desires.

Geto's loud chuckle resonated through the thin walls, his voice brimming with a mischievous undertone. It felt as though he was intentionally turning up the volume to make sure you heard every word. You clutched your pillow in frustration, your peaceful nap slipping further away.

"And who exactly is trying to get some rest?" he exclaimed with an almost mocking tone, fully aware of the annoyance he was causing.

Your patience ran thin as their passionate activities continued. „Me." Your voice carried through the walls, "Not everyone wants to hear you and your whores... enjoying yourselves."

A brief pause followed, marked by a faint gasp that could only be attributed to one of Geto's companions.

But Geto's next words threw you off guard. "Are you jealous or something?" he shouted back, a teasing quality in his voice.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and you couldn't help but stammer, "N-no way!" Your voice wavered as you vehemently denied any hint of jealousy.

Geto's response was a simple, "Sure..." that lingered in the air, his amused tone painting a sly smile on his face.

Your frustration with Geto's behavior extended beyond the present situation. In fact, it had been a constant struggle to come to terms with your unrequited feelings for him. It wasn't a secret crush, it was a deep, hidden affection that you'd carefully nurtured. But there was something you were certain of - Geto had no idea about your feelings. The mere thought of confessing to him filled you with dread, knowing all too well that he'd likely reject you.

All the women Geto has ever bought seemed to have the same type of body, just different faces. And every time you saw them, you couldn't help but feel that you weren't quite the same as those women.They were all svelte, confident, and undoubtedly attractive. It was impossible not to notice the recurring pattern, and every time you heard their passionate escapades through the wall, you couldn't help but feel inadequate in comparison.

Their distinct, confident moans seeped through the walls, a stark contrast to your own quiet and private moments. The realization that Geto consistently chooses partners so different from you only intensified your insecurities, creating a nagging doubt that perhaps you weren't good enough, attractive enough, or desirable enough to ever gain his attention.

You sighed, as the loud noises from the next room continued. You realized there was no hope for a peaceful nap. You pushed your covers aside and climbed out of your bed. With each step, you trudged over to the closet, your feet feeling heavy against the floor. Inside the closet, you found comfort in the familiarity of your clothing. You selected baggy black pants adorned with white stripes running down the sides from your pocket, and you paired them with a dark gray, zip-up, long-sleeve corset shirt.

In a familiar routine, you packed a few things into your backpack. This wasn't the first time you decided to leave when Geto had someone over. It was just easier to get out and avoid hearing the sounds that made you feel down. You wished you could be in their place, but deep down, you felt inadequate.

You took a deep breath, a momentary pause in your preparations, as you decided on your next move. Your usual refuge from the chaos in your shared apartment was Geto's best friend, Gojo Satoru. But today, when you reached for your phone and dialed his number, your hopes were met with disappointment.

"Hello?" Satoru's cheerful voice answered.

"Hey, Satoru," you began, "I was wondering... Can I stay over at your place tonight, like I usually do when Suguru has company over? It's just... it's one of those nights, you know?"

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line, and you could sense his hesitation. Finally, Satoru spoke, regret in his tone. "I'm really sorry, Y/N, but I can't tonight. I've got a date planned, and I can't cancel on her."

Your shoulders slumped, and a sense of disappointment washed over you. You had hoped for an escape, a way to avoid the turmoil of Geto's latest tryst.

With a heavy sigh, you replied to Gojo, "It's fine. I'll think of something."

"I'm very sorry, Y/n."

You offered a small smile and reassured him, "Don't worry, Satoru. Have fun with your date." You hung up, realizing that you would need to find another way to escape the discomfort of your apartment.

Leaving your room, you crossed through the living room towards the exit. The noise from Geto's activities continued, a reminder of the frustration you were trying to leave behind. You walked out of the apartment and onto the street, not sure where your feet would take you. The night air was cool, and as you descended the stairs, you considered your options for the evening.

As you walked down the streets, your steps eventually led you to a nearby bar. The neon sign outside flickered, casting an inviting glow onto the sidewalk. You hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether entering was a good idea. However, the allure of drowning your frustrations in a dimly lit space with some background chatter was too appealing.

Pushing the door open, you entered the cozy bar. The warm atmosphere and mellow music wrapped around you, offering solace from the chaos back home. You found an empty stool at the bar counter, and the bartender acknowledged you with a friendly nod.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

You ordered a drink to help ease your mind. The alcohol provided a comforting numbness, and you began to unwind. The thoughts of Geto's activities and your insecurities faded away, at least for the moment

Sitting at the bar, nursing your drink, you couldn't help but get lost in your thoughts. The alcohol had taken the edge off your frustration, but it couldn't erase the insecurities that still lingered in the back of your mind. Your gaze was fixed on the glass in front of you, and you pondered your unfortunate situation.

Suddenly, a voice interrupted your reverie. "Hey there, mind if I sit here?" You looked up to find a handsome stranger with dark brown hair and piercing green eyes. Despite your emotional turmoil, his charisma caught your attention.

You hesitated for a moment but eventually nodded, welcoming the opportunity to escape your own thoughts. "Sure, go ahead," you replied, offering a faint smile.

As he settled on the stool beside you, the stranger introduced himself as Ryo. He leaned in closer, his eyes filled with genuine interest. "What‘s a pretty lady like you doing here?"

You bite your lips at his question,“Just came here to relax.“

„You look like you've got a lot on your mind. Care to share?“

You took a deep breath, deciding it wouldn't hurt to talk to a stranger about your problems. "It's just that... I've got this annoying roommate who's always bringing girls over. It's impossible to get some peace and quiet in my own apartment," you confided, hesitantly revealing the source of your frustrations, but not mentioning the part where you have a crush on him.

Ryo listened intently, nodding sympathetically. "That does sound tough. Must be hard to relax with all that noise.“

You nodded at his response, taking another sip of your drink.

„How about you get out of here for a while? I know a nearby motel- where we can have some…uh- you know.. And forget about your troubles." His green eyes sparkled with mischief.

Your initial instinct was to deny Ryo's offer, as it seemed too spontaneous and risky. But the alcohol coursing through your veins had other ideas. It whispered in your mind, urging you to embrace a little excitement and adventure for once.

You contemplated the proposal for a few seconds, and although a part of you was hesitant, you couldn't ignore the allure of spontaneity and a temporary escape from your problems. Your thoughts danced with uncertainty, but the alcohol had muffled your inhibitions just enough to say, "Fine I guess. I could use a little distraction right now."

With that, you both left the bar together, leaving behind your worries and insecurities for the night.

It was now 3 a.m, and you lay in the dimly lit room, naked and content, with Ryo sleeping peacefully beside you. You couldn't help but steal a glance at his serene face before gently removing the covers. The room was quiet, except for the soft, rhythmic sound of Ryo's breathing.

Carefully, you got out of the bed and started collecting your scattered clothes from the floor. As you dressed, you couldn't help but recall the unexpected turn of events that had led you to this motel room. It had been a wild ride, and you were left with a mix of emotions, from exhilaration to a tinge of guilt and the lingering worry about what might come next.

With your clothes back on, you took one last look at Ryo, who was still lost in dreams, then quietly made your way to the door,

The city was hushed at this late hour, and the streets were nearly empty as you made your way back to the apartment you shared with Geto.

As you walked along the dimly lit streets, you thought about your noisy roommate and the constant disturbance he brought into your life. At that moment, you felt a strange mixture of frustration and guilt. The secret rendezvous in the motel was something you had never imagined happening, especially not with a stranger you'd met in a bar.

As you arrived, you quietly unlocked the apartment door and stepped inside, hoping to slip in unnoticed, but as soon as the door creaked open, Geto, who was sitting on the couch engrossed in his phone, looked up and spotted you. He jumped to his feet and almost shouted your name.

"Y/n! Where were you at this hour?“ Geto roared as he stood in front of you, his anger barely contained. His eyebrows knitted in a deep frown, he continued, "And why in the world weren't you picking up your damn phone? I've been calling you for what feels like an eternity!"

You couldn't help but respond defiantly, asking, "Why do you even care?"

His frustration was palpable as he retorted, "Why shouldn't I care when you ignored both my calls and Satoru's?! I tried to call you, telling you to come back, but you didn‘t pick up! So I called Satoru, thinking you'd fallen asleep at his place, only to find out you weren't there. Why shouldn't I be livid when it's almost 4 in the morning, and you're out there, Lord knows where?!"

Geto's anger and worry were evident as he spoke, and you could sense that your actions had genuinely affected him. However, you had no intention of revealing the real reason for your absence, fearing his reaction if he were to discover the truth.

"I was with someone," you replied, fabricating a lie in the hopes that he might believe it.

Geto's sharp eyes caught something, and he lowered the collar of your jacket to reveal the collection of hickeys and bruises adorning your neck. His expression shifted to a mixture of confusion and jealousy as he examined the marks, his fingers lightly tracing over the evidence.

"Who gave these to you?" he inquired, his tone laced with an unsettling combination of emotions.

You were quick to deflect,"Why do you even care? It's not like you're my boyfriend," you spoke, while removing his hand.

Geto met your eyes with a piercing gaze, his furrowed brows deepening, before eventually directing his attention to the floor, unsure of how to respond to your rebuff.

Geto let out an exasperated sigh, seemingly at a loss for words. He knew there was no valid reason for him to be jealous, but seeing the marks on your neck left an unexplainable feeling of discomfort within him.

He finally mumbled, "You're right, I'm not your boyfriend," his voice laced with a hint of regret. "But you shouldn't go around letting just anyone mark you like that."

„Says you.“ you reply, walking past him and entering the bathroom.

You stood in front of the bathroom mirror, hesitating for a moment as your reflection stared back at you. The clothes you wore felt tainted on, carrying the lingering sensation of Ryo's touch, a touch that had marked you with a tapestry of hickeys and bruises. Your fingers worked swiftly as you began to remove your shirt, the soft fabric falling to the floor, revealing the hickeys and marks that adorned your skin.

With a sigh, you reached for your pants, your fingers deftly undoing the fastenings and sliding the fabric down your legs. The pants joined the discarded shirt in a pool on the floor. Now only in your undergarments, you hesitated once more, looking at yourself in the mirror with a mixture of frustration and desire.

You craved the hot water to wash away not just the physical evidence of Ryo's touch, but also the memories that clung to your skin. Finally, you reached for the shower handle, turning it on to let the water heat up. As the steam began to fill the bathroom, you stepped under the soothing flow, feeling the heat and moisture envelop your body.

The water splashed over you, washing away the sweat, the scent of your own arousal, and the remnants of Ryo's embrace. As you closed your eyes, you couldn't help but rethink your interaction with Geto. Maybe you were too harsh in your response. After all, he had been genuinely worried about your well-being.

Your thoughts drifted back to his expressions of concern, and his anger over the marks on your skin. He wasn't your boyfriend, that was true, but you couldn't deny there was something deeper than mere friendship between you two. The thought of him feeling hurt or upset over your actions tugged at your heart.

As you lathered yourself with soap, the fragrant foam serving as a gentle buffer against the steamy water, you started to question whether you should have been more understanding. You realized that his concern was genuine, and it had caused his emotional outburst.

Maybe you should have let him explain his side of the story instead of being so harsh. After all, he had been the one worried about you, not knowing where you were, and trying to reach out when you didn't answer his calls. Your stubbornness might have pushed him away.

With your mind made up, you turned off the shower and stepped out onto the bathroom tiles, droplets of water still clinging to your skin. In your renewed determination, you hurriedly dried yourself off with a towel, not wanting to waste any more time.

As you went through the motions of drying your hair and body, a sudden realization struck you. The pajamas you had intended to wear had been left behind in your room, neatly folded on your bed. You must have forgotten to grab them in your haste to leave.

With nothing else within reach, you wrapped a towel around your body, tucking it in to ensure it stayed in place. You left the bathroom, going to your room to get dressed.

As you stepped back into your room, you quickly located your pajamas and began to get dressed. You pulled on your panties and then, just as you were about to put on your t-shirt, the door suddenly creaked open.

Startled, you looked over to see Geto standing in the doorway, holding a tray with two cups of tea.

He seemed to be lost for words for a moment, his eyes widening as he took in the sight of you, wearing only your panties, with the towel that had been wrapped around you discarded on the bed. The room was filled with an awkward tension.

"Suguru, you... you could have knocked." you stammered, quickly moving to cover yourself with the t-shirt you were about to put on.

Geto, still red-faced and with one hand covering his eyes, mumbled, "Sorry, I didn't mean to barge in. I just wanted to apologize for shouting at you."

Geto carefully placed the tray of tea down on a nearby table, Geto took a step closer, his expression now more serious and less embarrassed.

Geto's arms enveloped you, and he leaned in, resting his chin gently atop your head. The warmth of his embrace sent a shiver down your spine.

"I truly was worried about you, Y/n. I didn't mean to upset you," he whispered softly, his breath tickling your ear.

Your eyes widened at his embrace, your heart racing, and a deep blush painted your cheeks. "It's fine," you mumbled, your voice barely more than a breath, "I was also harsh."

Geto held you even tighter for a moment before finally releasing you slightly. "Can you please tell me where you were?" he asked, concern evident in his eyes and voice.

You took a step back and put your t-shirt on, your mind whirring as you wondered why Geto seemed so insistent on knowing your whereabouts. His desire to understand your actions left you puzzled, and you couldn't help but think about the way he stared at the hickeys on your neck earlier.

"Why do you want to know it so badly?",

Geto shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting away from your inquisitive gaze. He wasn't used to being put on the spot, and your question seemed to have made him nervous.

"It's not like you to stay out so late," he mumbled, avoiding eye contact,"I was worried something might have happened to you."

But there was something in his tone that hinted at a deeper concern. You couldn't quite put your finger on it, but you sensed that Geto was keeping something from you.

"I was at a bar," you replied, taking a seat on the edge of your bed. Geto joined you, sitting down beside you. "Satoru had a date today, so I couldn't go to his place, and honestly, I just wanted to get away from this place and not hear you and your guests having fun."

Geto's next question caught you by surprise. "Okay, so did you meet that guy there?" He inquired, his eyes focused on you. You raised an eyebrow, puzzled by his question. "What guy?"

"The one who gave you the hickeys," Geto clarified.

You couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions when Geto brought up the hickeys,"Oh, you mean Ryo? Yeah, I met him at the bar. We... got along, I guess."

Geto's expression was unreadable as he absorbed this information. You couldn't tell if he was upset, jealous, or just curious. After a brief silence, he finally spoke, "Well, I hope you had a good time with him, Y/n."

Geto's voice dropped to a near-whisper, and you barely caught his words as he muttered under his breath, "I bet I could've made you feel better."

Your attention shifted back to him, but you pretended not to hear what he said. The atmosphere in the room seemed charged, and you both knew that something had shifted between you.

"Y/n," Geto began, breaking the silence. "Can I ask you something personal? How did it feel when Ryo gave you those hickeys?"

You shifted uncomfortably on the bed, considering his question. "Well, it felt... intense," you admitted cautiously. "I mean, it's not like I get that kind of attention often."

Geto's gaze remained fixed on you, and you could sense a growing tension in the room as he asked, "Would you say you enjoyed it?"

The air grew heavy as you responded, "what's up with all those questions?“

Geto hesitated for a moment before answering, "Well, it's just that... I can't help but wonder. Do you think I could be better in bed than that Ryo? Have you ever thought about it?"

You blinked in surprise. The thought had crossed your mind on occasion, especially with Geto's charm and the chemistry you'd shared. But it had remained a fantasy. "I mean, we've never... you know, been together like that," you admitted, a touch of embarrassment coloring your cheeks.

Geto nodded slowly. "True, we haven't. But maybe we should consider it."

"Wait! W-what did you just say?" you stammered, your heart pounding in your chest. His words had caught you off guard, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and apprehension.

Geto met your gaze with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. "I said, maybe we should consider it," he repeated, his voice laced with a newfound desire.

Geto's fingers gently caressed your chin as he leaned in closer, his warm breath brushing against your lips. His eyes bore into yours, searching for a sign, a glimmer of consent, or resistance. You could feel the tension between you two, and your mind raced, struggling to process the sudden turn of events.

Your heart raced as you gazed into Geto's eyes, Your brain and your heart were locked in a fierce battle, each one pushing you in a different direction. Logic screamed at you to push him away, to maintain your boundaries, and to keep your feelings in check. But your heart, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment and your long-standing desire for Geto, yearned to close the gap between you

As Geto's thumb traced a gentle pattern along your chin, your heart won the battle. Your lips slowly parted, and you leaned in, closing the distance between you. With a soft sigh, your mouths met in a heated, passionate kiss,

As your lips met Geto's in the passionate kiss, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions rushed through your mind, creating a maelstrom of uncertainty and longing. Did you hear him correctly? Did he really want to do it with you? A barrage of insecurity clawed at your self-esteem, leaving you feeling like you didn't measure up to the other women he had been with.

In the midst of your mental turmoil, Geto deepened the kiss, and you felt the warmth of his hands gently cradling your face, grounding you in the present moment. His kiss was a fusion of desire, tenderness, and something more profound. You couldn't help but let yourself drown in the intensity of the moment, losing yourself in the magnetic pull of his lips and the reassuring pressure of his touch.

Still, those nagging doubts whispered in the background of your thoughts. Were you truly good enough for Geto? Were you worthy of this affection? Yet, his soft words of reassurance cut through your internal chaos. "Don't overthink it," he whispered,"Forget the others; focus on us."

In that moment, his words were a lifeline, pulling you back from the precipice of self-doubt.

He gently guided you backward, urging you to recline onto the bed. The soft mattress met your back, its warmth seeping through your clothes, heightening the intimate atmosphere in the room. You felt a rush of anticipation as he hovered over you, his eyes filled with both desire and tenderness.

His lips left yours, trailing a path of feathery kisses along your jawline and down your neck where he kissed on top of your hickeys from ryo. Each delicate press of his lips sent a shiver down your spine, igniting your senses with heightened sensitivity. Your fingers entangled themselves in his dark hair as you tilted your head, allowing him more access to your skin.

Geto's hands wandered with purpose, exploring the curves of your body beneath your clothes. He seemed intent on making you feel cherished, wanted, and adored. Your racing heart was matched by your rapid breaths as he slid your shirt off, baring your upper body to his intense gaze. His lips returned to yours, capturing you in another deep kiss.

The gentle exploration evolved into a more intense passion, with Geto's hands becoming more assertive, caressing your exposed skin and igniting a fire within you. Your kisses grew fervent, exchanging a silent promise of shared desires and newfound intimacy.

As Geto's tender kisses traversed your collarbone, they gradually descended further south, leaving a trail of fiery desire in their wake. His lips caressed your chest, making your heart race. Every gentle touch was a whisper of longing, leaving you breathless and craving more.

With a purposeful intent, Geto's mouth closed around your breast. His lips created a sensual seal around your nipple as his tongue swirled, eliciting a breathless moan from you.

His mouth moved with a slow, torturous pace, teasing and taunting you as he alternated between sucking and nibbling your delicate flesh. The soft, wet sounds of his devotion were a sweet symphony of passion that echoed through the room, mingling with your pleasured sighs and moans.

The sensation sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, causing your fingers to clutch at the bedsheets in sheer delight. The merging of emotions, from anticipation to desire, mingled in the most intimate way. Your feelings were laid bare before Geto, who continued to lavish his affection upon you, marking you as his own.

As his lips left a path of sensual warmth across your chest and down your abdomen, your thoughts were awash with questions. Could this be more than a fleeting moment of desire? Did Geto see you as someone different from the others he had been with? Were you something his eyes, or just another conquest?

But as Geto's lips met your skin with unrestrained fervor, he sensed your inner turmoil. He raised his head slightly, locking eyes with you, his gaze filled with a depth of emotion that left you breathless. His voice was a gentle murmur, brushing away your doubts.

"Don't overthink, Y/n," he whispered, his breath caressing your skin. "Just focus on this moment, on us."

He lowered himself to take in the sight of your already wet panties. A mischievous smirk crept onto his lips as he stared at the source of your arousal, and without hesitation, he leaned down and bit gently at the soft flesh of your folds through the fabric.

A whimper escaped your lips as your eyes locked onto his, a mixture of anticipation and desire in their depths. Geto's teasing continued as he traced the contours of your folds with his lips, still separated from your most sensitive area by the barrier of your panties. His tongue danced along the fabric, from bottom to top, skillfully coaxing out your most intense sensations.

The sensations Geto's teasing evoked were electrifying, and you could feel the warmth pooling between your legs. Your fingers reached down to grasp the edge of your panties, wanting to feel his touch more directly.

Geto, sensing your eagerness, brushed your hands away and whispered, "Not so fast, my dear," his voice filled with a sultry confidence. His lips continued to work through the fabric, and with each passing moment, your arousal intensified.

As he persisted in his seductive exploration, your moans grew louder, echoing through the room.

"Suguru..," you panted, overwhelmed by the sensations and the growing desire burning inside you. "Please, take ‘em off..."

He looked up, his eyes locked onto yours with a wicked grin."You'll have to beg for it."

Your frustration and longing reached a breaking point as you pleaded, "Suguru.., please- I need y-you to take ‘em off. I want you so badly… please- I-I can‘t wait any..longer.."

His teasing grin widened, and he finally gave in, slowly sliding your panties down your legs.

Your aching core pulsed with longing, each beat reverberating through your entire body as if it had a heartbeat of its own. It throbbed with a desperate desire, craving the touch and attention it had been yearning for.

Geto gazed at your throbbing, eager hole, clenching around nothing,"Look at you, Y/n," he murmured, "all wet and ready for me. You wanted this, didn't you?"

You moaned in response, your hips instinctively shifting as you craved his touch. "Yes..," you gasped. "I've wanted this for so l-long."

He leaned down, his hot breath brushing against your most sensitive spot, sending shivers down your spine. "Good," he whispered. "I'll make sure it's worth the wait."

Geto's fingers worked their way to your hips, gently holding you in place as he closed the distance between his mouth and your throbbing core. The sensation of his soft, teasing kisses along your inner thighs was maddening, as he continued to build the anticipation. You clenched the sheets, your body aching for his touch, and your moans filled the room.

Geto, unable to resist the desire any longer, finally surrendered to your unspoken plea. He gently parted your quivering thighs and settled himself between them. His tongue traced slow and tantalizing circles around your clit, each stroke sending delightful shivers throughout your body. He moaned at your taste, the vibrations adding a new layer of intensity to your pleasure. Your fingers found their way into his hair, holding him close as you gasped

Swept up in the whirlwind of pleasure, you couldn't contain your moans. They filled the room, echoing your unbridled ecstasy. The intensity grew with every delicate touch of Geto's lips and the rhythmic flicks of his tongue.

„Suguru.. I can't... it's t-too much." Your voice was a desperate plea, but it only seemed to spur him on.

You arched your back, your body trembling, as he delved deeper, seeking out the most sensitive spots. His fingers slipped inside you, matching the rhythm of his tantalizing oral ministrations. Waves of pleasure surged through you as your muscles tightened and your breath quickened.

„You can take it," he murmured, his voice laced with desire. "I want to make you feel so good, Y/n."

Finally, your body couldn't hold back any longer. You cried out his name as your release washed over you, your fingers clutching his hair and your back arching off the bed. Geto continued to pleasure you through the waves of your climax, prolonging the sensation.

Geto seemed to take pleasure in watching you squirm beneath his touch. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he pulled away, his lips glistening from your essence. He sat back on his heels, looking at your flushed and trembling form with a self-satisfied grin.

He ran his fingers along your inner thighs, stopping just short of where you needed him most. "You're so responsive, Y/n," he murmured, his voice husky. "But we're just getting started. I want to make sure you'll never forget this."

You whimpered, your body still thrumming with need, as Geto began his tantalizing descent again, kissing and licking his way back up your trembling form.

As Geto continued his relentless exploration of your body, you found it increasingly difficult to contain your longing. Your fingers clutched at the sheets, your back arched involuntarily, and your breath hitched with every lingering touch of his lips and tongue.

His gaze met yours as he hovered once again over your core. He leaned in, his warm breath caressing your inner thighs. The sensation sent delicious shivers coursing through your body, making you quiver with anticipation.

Geto's tongue flicked against your most sensitive spot, and you couldn't hold back a throaty moan. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, driving you back to the brink of ecstasy. Your fingers tangled in the sheets as you writhed beneath him, aching for release.

He looked up at you with a wicked grin and asked, "Do you want more, Y/n?"

Your voice quivered as you responded, "Yes, please, Suguru."

Geto's grin deepened as he stood up to remove his pants, revealing his hardened member, throbbing with desire. He climbed back onto the bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he moved closer, his warm skin brushing against your trembling body.

The anticipation was overwhelming, and you couldn't tear your gaze away from him. He positioned himself at your entrance, the tip of his length brushing against your heated core, and the electrifying sensation sent a shiver down your spine.

"Ready?" Geto whispered,

You nodded eagerly, your heart racing, and your breath quickening.

As soon as he entered you, you couldn't help but let out a loud, lustful moan, your body reacting instinctively to his presence within you. A jolt of pleasure shot through your core as you felt yourself clenching tightly around him, making Geto hiss in response.

„So tight-„he muttered, a smirk on his lips.

His member was undeniably impressive, not only in length but also in girth, and it felt like he was stretching and filling you to your limits. The sensations were intense, and you could feel every inch of him as he slowly thrust deeper, making you gasp with each movement.

Geto's relentless thrusts continued, driving deeper into you with each powerful motion. The intensity of the pleasure was overwhelming, and you couldn't contain your moans. "You feel so good," Geto whispered in a husky voice, his breath hot against your ear. "I've wanted this for so long, Y/n..“

Your body quivered as he filled you completely, and your cries grew louder. "O-oh..S’guru..!" you moaned, your voice trembling, as Geto's thrusts became even more powerful. Your cries of pleasure filled the room, a mix of desire, longing, and ecstasy. "Don't- stop."

Geto's grip on your hips tightened, and his thrusts became more urgent. "I won't," he murmured, his voice filled with desire. "I'm going to make you feel so good, princess."

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as you met his powerful thrusts with equal fervor. Your moans became more desperate and unrestrained, and Geto's own desire only grew more intense.

In the midst of your passion, you whispered his name over and over, your voices intertwining in a symphony of desire. The room was filled with the sounds of your love, and the world outside seemed to fade away as you both approached the pinnacle of pleasure.

Geto's movements became more erratic as he pushed you to the brink of ecstasy. With one final, powerful thrust, you both reached the peak together, crying out each other's names as the pleasure consumed you.

As the waves of ecstasy washed over you, you clung to Geto, breathless and sated.

Geto gently pushed the covers of the bed aside and guided both of you under them. With a tenderness that contrasted the passion you had just shared, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a loving embrace.

You settled into the cozy cocoon of the blankets, feeling his warmth against your back as Geto became the big spoon. His breath on the nape of your neck sent shivers down your spine, and his arms held you securely, as if he never wanted to let you go.

In the soft afterglow of your intimacy, you both laid there, your bodies entwined. The world outside seemed to disappear as you savored the tranquility of the moment, the only sounds being the steady rhythm of your breath and the beating of your hearts.

Geto whispered sweet words in your ear, professing his desire and affection for you. With a contented sigh, you leaned back into his embrace, finding comfort and solace in his presence.

As the minutes passed, and the weight of your shared passion settled into a gentle lull, your eyelids grew heavy. Geto's soothing words and comforting embrace provided the perfect environment for you to drift into a peaceful slumber.

The warmth of his body, pressed against your back, felt like a protective shield. It was as if, in this moment, the world outside didn't matter. It was just the two of you, wrapped in each other's arms, finding solace and contentment in each other's company.

As your breathing slowed and the room fell into a gentle silence, you found yourself surrendering to the embrace of sleep. Yet, even in this peaceful moment, your mind couldn't help but be consumed by a whirlwind of thoughts and questions:

"What have I just done?"

"Is this the beginning of something more between us?"

"Will this change our relationship?"

"Can I trust him not to betray this secret?"

"Was this a mistake, or something I secretly wanted all along?"

"What happens next?"

As your consciousness drifted away, these questions remained unanswered, leaving you to ponder the uncertain future that lay ahead.

#geto suguru #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto smut #jujutsu geto #getou suguru x reader #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #suguru geto #suguru geto smut #[♡’—𝐟𝐯𝐬𝐦𝟒𝐱‘𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬｡•́]#[♡’—𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢｡•́]

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0oolookitsme · 2 months

Text

Like Gold Dust

Hii everyone! This one is kind of different than most of my fics. There are lots of descriptions and lesser dialogues and she's an angsty one! Lowkey poetic too, I think? I don't know! You tell me! I hope you enjoy reading <3

Verse - Footballer!Harry x Art Director!Y/n (uni era)

Word Count - 3.1k

Warnings - This fic is about Harry dealing with Seasonal Depression and he doesn't deal with it in this fic very healthily. So, if that, in any way, seems like it might be triggering for you or you don't wanna read about it, I totally understand! Close this fic and take care of yourself, I'll see you in the next upload! Sending love <3 (Also, there's miscommunication as well because of course, they are in uni!)

Winter has come knocking the wind out of Harry's lungs, and happiness has begun feeling like gold dust to him -- everybody seems to be chasing after it, but rarely catches it. But while Harry deals with the harshest Winter he's ever had, Y/n seems to have begun hating her favourite season.

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With her head lowered defeatedly, Y/n slapped on the door with her palm for the fifth time. "Harry," she exhaled a breath that she had held hostage in her lungs so that she wouldn’t miss his reply. "I know you're in there ...let me in, please," her voice went meek towards the end, eyes moistening making her screw them shut, tighly.

She let her head rest on the door, sniffling a few times when she feels the sudden tiredness overtake her senses once again.

Maybe he's asleep, she thinks to herself just to get herself moving. Nodding at her own thought, she fisted the hand that was still pressed against the cold shut door and put it back in the warmth of her coat’s pocket.

This was nothing new. Every morning she'd come to his dorm, knock and knock and knock, and get teary eyed when he wouldn't open up. She'd catch him on the campus sometimes, walking in the same clothes she'd been seeing him in since the past three days, his head low and eyes avoiding any and every gaze.

"Harry!" She'd call after him and run up to match her steps with his. "I went to your dorm; thought you were sleeping but here you are!" Halting in her place she'd exclaim. Then, she'd mumble sadly -- "looking all pretty," running a little because he hadn't stopped with her.

She'd walk with him quietly then, cautiously weaving her fingers through his rough ones. He'd squeeze her hand three times in return and hold on tightly until they'd reach the point where they needed to part ways for their classes.

Truth be told, those little encounters seemed to be the only thin thread she was hanging by. His simple touches, holds, and cold lips pressed against her forehead. It made her believe that he didn’t entirely hate her, that she wasn’t as useless as she felt.

Y/n felt like she was lacking somewhere. That she should be the one he should be talking to in moments like these, that she should be the sole source of comfort he had but it seemed like he kept his distance from her as much as he could. And that made her feel like maybe she wasn’t his favourtie person, after all.

She knew that it wasn’t the truth in her heart. That Harry did still love her, and found his safe haven in her – the smallest actions he made were assuring …but they weren’t enough to prevent Y/n’s opposing, combatant mind from exceeding its thinking capacity.

Every night she found herself doubting herself – her capacity to love, especially. Was her love not enough for the both of them to sail a little longer? At Least until Spring came and Harry’s sunflower plant became full of life again?

She feared that their relationship was withering away, just like his sunflower, and she was sat in his room on his window sill with the plant in her lap, frantically giving it sunlight and air and water and better soil but it just won’t stop shrinking in size and fading in colour.

Doing everything she could, still Y/n was always feeling helpless and in despair. It was like she was screaming but Harry wasn’t listening…whether intentionally or not because, from Harry’s point of view, no sound seemed to be coming out of her scream – maybe because he was under water.

"I'll see you soon," she'd tell him and get up on her tiptoes to hug him close to herself, pressing a kiss on his unshaved cheek. And with that, she'd walk away, her hand a lingering touch until she had walked far enough, and she, yet again, proved to be insufficient and not enough.

Walking against the brittle wind, she caught sight of the on-campus cafe. Walking inside, she looked up at the jingling bells above the door and smiled. She’d been coming here for so many months and yet she looked up at the source of the chime every time she walked in – for coffee, mainly, and for some warm shelter, secretly.

"A medium coffee please," she told the barista, who also happened to be a good friend. The cafe was opened by some of the college students, for the college students. It was nothing fancy but did its job remarkably well.

No one was speaking this early in the morning. Everyone was bundled up in any corner that they could seek, and Y/n looked around in hopes that maybe the footsteps she'd heard inside Harry's dorm weren't actual and that she might catch him cozied up here, instead. Because sometimes they'd bump into each other here or at the library, and that would bring her the peace that she was feeling rarely this Winter – which came as a shock to the system because she didn’t nearly love any season as much as she did Winter.

But alas, it was only a hope after all.

"Can I get a refill, please?" Someone asked, slightly embarrassed as the peeked from behind their laptop screen. Standing in front of Y/n, the barista – Kate – agreed to the request with a warm smile.

It was brighter than usual today, Harry had noticed. The sunlight pouring in through his open window laid right on his bed and if he wasn’t already feeling brighter today, which is the reason why he is standing fresh out of his bathroom and rubbing his towel against his head with another one wrapped low on his hips, his mood just felt as if it had bubbled up so high that he couldn’t handle it all by himself.

The flimsy curtains were still drawn in front of his windows, as he quickly changed. Even though he hated dressing up before his skin had fully dried. Unconsciously, he began humming a song and when he realized that while brushing his hair, he felt as if he had caught himself off guard.

Happiness had begun to feel like it was like gold dust, to Harry. He’d suddenly become very aware of how difficult it was to obtain, how everyone wanted it and it was almost as if it had grown out of his comfort zone.

He wasn't excited about the winter, not that he ever was. But he was depressed. Harry avoided his own gaze in the mirror then. He hadn’t said anything to himself other than a broken sob in weeks, so to find himself humming a song felt surreal.

Throwing some things in his backpack, he swung it over his shoulders. He didn’t have anything on his feet, he realized and sprawled on the floor to look under his bed for the socks he was sure he had absentmindedly kicked under there.

He took a quick sniff at his socks, deciding that he could go with them this last day. With a few grunts he pulled them up on his feet, sitting on the floor of his dorm room and tying his shoelaces. Y/n had gifted him those among some other things for Christmas, and that thought made him smile as he stared at the Nikes on his feet for little.

A few of his bones popped as he got up, making him groan in satisfaction. Checking if he had his phone and headphones on him, he decided to go and quickly check the scenery outside via his window and see for himself if he should carry an umbrella, which didn’t make any sense because it could begin raining cats and dogs any time where he lived.

That was when he caught sight of snow – falling down in flakes, slowly like feathers. His mouth fell open as he pressed his palms against the cold window glass, looking outside like some eager kid with his nose slightly smushing against it. His gaze wandered and he realized that everyhting was covered in white snow, shimmering beautifully as sunlight fell down.

Suddenly in a much bigger hurry, he swung his backpack on one of his shoulders again, and locked the door once he was on the other side of it.

The temperature inside his dorm room was much colder than the temperature outside, Harry realized, just as he does every other day and proceeded to walk down the hallway with his hands in the pockets of his bright pink hoodie. He’d been thinking all morning that maybe this serotonin release was only for one day, but chose not to dwell over that so he could simply live for at least some hours – for as long as the sun was away from the jail-bars, namely clouds.

But then he realized that it had finally begun snowing, and he felt like no one could take his happiness from him; absolutely no one.

He hated this issue that he had. He’s been suffering with seasonal depression since he was fifteen, he’d guess, and he hadn’t had one winter since that made him happy. Except, of course, the last one, in which he finally had the nerve to kiss Y/n under a mistletoe that had been hanging on the wall indentation that separates the dining area from the kitchen in his home.

And she made the Winter sufferable, if not entirely rainbows and sunshine for him. But it only made Harry hate himself worse – the fact that she adored no season as much as she did the snow one, and yet she was sad all the time during the span of this Winter in particular, because of him.

When Winter was approaching, she had strictly told him to come meet her before he’d leave for practice in the mornings, just so that she could hold him for a little before they’d go in for entirely different classes for the day, because she was aware that one of his love languages was physical touch. She didn’t really have a clue about how harsh this Winter was going to be on them, considering it hadn’t ever been so bad in the years she had known him, even as his best friend.

But he hadn’t been following the one rule she’d made; he was unable to.

He tried to stay away from her, when he realized that. Just so that she wouldn’t have to share all of her love and happiness with him to the level that she was left with nothing but his sadness. It wasn’t making him feel good, it hurt worse than the Winter did – staying away from her. But it was for the better, he’d tell himself over and over again as he would roll his lips in his mouth and shut his eyes tightly when she would come knocking on his dorm room morning and night, voice sounding as if she were on the verge of breaking down and begging him to open up so that she could come in and help him, and herself even.

“This is making me very sad, Harry. This – whatever it is that you’re doing, i – it isn’t making me feel anything but … but sad,” she would utter defeatedly outside his dorm, being ignorant about the strangers that might be hearing her. And, Harry would clench his eyes shut if his mind showed him a sight of her bottom lip trembling with fat tears rolling down her flushed cheeks.

What would matter to anyone hearing her, if Harry wasn’t hearing her? She’d think as she’d knock for the last few times, getting louder and louder.

It made Hary question his decisions, if he was doing the ‘right thing’ after all. But still he would gulp down his cry that threatened to escape his aching throat. He cried, and held himself as his body shook and broke down in sobs, because it felt selfish to have her do it when she could be outside building a snowman.

He was well aware that she was concerned about him, it showed in her actions -- bled through the looks of care she passed him before she had to part from him. And he felt careless, like he wasn’t being responsible and mature enough by simply letting her in but he was. He couldn’t explain as to how or why, but in his head, he knew he was being sensible by not enclosing her in his misery.

Around Y/n he was calmer and more at peace – that was, nowadays, whenever she would catch him sulking on the campus somewhere. Almost all the time he wanted to be coddling her, holding her or being near her -- he knew she’d keep him sane, at the least but still he didn’t go to her. So he managed to comfort himself by the things that reminded him of her.

He felt such geat despair in that moment, when he would be sliding down the wall of his dorm as tears fell one after another from the slits of his eyes. He’d feel resentful of himself, but would still wrap his arms around his weak body and strangle his sobs because the walls were paper thin. He’d rest his head on his knees, back against the cold wall before he’d crawl to the foot of his bed and cry into the mattress as if it were his mum’s or Y/n’s lap.

The sun had begun its hideaway for multiple days on end, and it got dark way earlier. Although he'd liked to think that he was prepared for the season, for the entirety of the beautiful autumn, he knew he was just baffling to himself. His current state was proof for it.

He felt tired, always. Never sleeping and being irritated at the slightest mistakes made during practice -- whether it was with himself or with his teammates. He had no interest in eating or getting out of his dorm room in the mornings, which was extremely unusual of him. Exams were around the corner and as much as he'd like to say that he was ready to tackle them, it was a lie far far away from the truth.

He wasn't even sure what the syllabus was, if he was being completely honest.

By the end, his throat would be aching because of the stifled wails and the sun would have risen by the time he’d be done collecting himself, and then a headache would follow and his eyes would've dried up because of the night time that he used to study instead of sleeping.

Swiftly climbing down the flight of stairs to go to y/n's dorm, he felt the same kind of sensation he did when he was going back home for the winter break.

He knocked thrice, gently because he’s sure she's still sleeping or just woken up. There was a rush in his body, the thought of seeing her was making him more and more impatient. He was beginning to feel nervous, almost verging on anxious.

The door opened, and Y/n peeked through the small crack before and her eyes widened at the sight in front of her. He was standing right there, freshly showered and dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. His face was shining and as he smiled down at her, his dimples indented in his shaved cheek and she could smell the strong smell of his shaving cream that lingered around for a while. His lips were stretched so far that the front of his bunny could be seen from the small gap forming in between.

He didn't look much better than he did on the mornings that have passed them by since winter started, but he did seem to be in a better mood. It made her happy that he loved the hot pink hoodie that she bought him as much as she did. He had paired it with some joggers, and the shoes that, again, she had gifted him.

Tears pooled in her eyes in an instant and her nose flared a bit as her mouth swung open in a grin, spurts of laughter falling out as she gazed at him in disbelief.

She made herself fully visible and opened the door wider. Instead of saying anything, she closed her mouth shut, still smiling at him brightly, and opened her arms for him to lean into her.

"Good morning," he gritted through his teeth as she held him tightly, rubbing her back up and down as she broke down in his arms. Pushing the door shut with his leg.

“Good fucking morning,” she sobbed and hicupped, a crack in her voice indicating that this was the first time she'd spoken since she'd woken up, and that she would’ve begun screaming in victory if only she could stop the stuttering cries rushing out of her.

This was the sole reason she'd begun to dislike mornings less, in the first place -- the love she felt oozed out of her at the sight of Harry. But she hadn’t realized just how off and gloomy she had been this whole time until she broke down at the mere sight of him looking decent. All these mornings that she had to wake up knowing deep in her core her that she wouldn’t see the sun, no matter how much she begged for it to come out had put her in a despair so great that she couldn’t even fathom the feeling of it.

But when she’d woken up this morning to see the land outside covered in white snow, shining as sunlight fell on it filled her with a certain hope to the brim. It almost made her flinch, the way sunlight fell on her face as she laid in her bed, eyes swollen and pillow still wet with the tears she’d cried into it the night before.

"You look exceptionally good this morning," she said while pointedly eyeing him up, wiping off the snot with the sleeve of her hoodie. "All good?"

Harry laughed at that, picking her up and taking her to the unmade bed. It looked like she was in the process of making it because all of her stuffed animals were strewn all over the floor -- and she tends to sleep with them on the days Harry isn't there to take up more space than necessary.

“I would’ve been on my way to buy some flowers for you, had I not seen the snow outside. Got too excited to see you, couldn’t wait,” he spoke softly, like she was still in a fragile state.“Plus, it’s too cold outside and I’d like my golden girl to come with me… For the sunflowers only bloom at the sight of the sun,” he smiled with his eyes crinkling on ends, and dimples shying away from Y/n’s gaze.

“First of all, we need to talk and second of all – how many times did you reframe this cringy speech, Harry?”

#harry styles #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfiction #boyfriend!harry #harry styles concept #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shots #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles au #footballer!harry #frat boy!harry #harry styles fic

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ochomasaio · 26 days

Text

Gojo Satoru ex husband

You try to leave Satoru in the past but let's be honest, he is Gojo Satoru, he never stays behind. After some months of searching you, there you are, on the opposite sidewalk.

You were his little sunshine, the pure source of positive energy in his ruthless everyday life. And now you had made him the happiest man in the world again after your positive pregnancy test.

He is Gojo Satoru but he is also a human. He made a big mistake. Drinking and ending up sleeping with another woman. Satoru truly didn't know that the woman wasn't his wife. He wasn't in place to understand that. He called the women by his wife's name all night they spent together.

Morning wasn't late to come and wake up next to that woman. In 1 minute he was already out of the apartment. He never had been ready faster. He runs home and tries to remember last night. Open the door and call for you. Nothing, search every room and again nothing. Calling you? Your phone was closed. His pulse began to rise. Is it possible you found out? So fast. He hadn't realized it yet. Did something else happen?

Ready to leave in search of you his blue eyes fell on a note on the compound by the door. But that wasn't the scary part, your wedding ring. You had placed it on top of the note. He grabbed the note and read it like water.

I believed we had a happy marriage

I had. I wish you all the goods

Y/N

Only that. You haven't written anything else. The baby? Oh! No god wouldn't be scared of him right now. You leave so fast, how the heck was it possible to find out so quickly? Someone must have told you about that. Oh! If he finds him he will't be able to tell even "good morning" without thinking twice, if he lets him talk again.

Now it had been 7 months since the day you left. His life was worse than ever. He had vowed to find you no matter what. He slept little, ate little and worked non-stop. The divorce papers you had sent him months ago from an unknown location were still untouched on his desk. There was no way he would positively sign off on this divorce.

He was sitting in the back seat of the car on his way home from Jujutsu Technical High School, stopped in traffic. Lost in his thoughts watching the cars go by, passers-by coming and going. And there! There you were! He couldn't believe it! You were walking on the sidewalk so close to his house. You were under his nose all this time. Wide eyes, a half-open mouth that almost created a smile. You were walking so beautifully, wind was blowing your hair in the spring breeze. A beautiful spring dress that erased your 7 months pregnant belly.

As quickly as he recognized you, he jumped out and appeared in front of you.

"My love. Y/N I find you!" Satoru said barely held back tears with his huge palms holding your tiny ones. You weren't as happy as him to watch him. Well that was lie. You were as happy as him to watch him again. To touch you. After 7 months in an unknown country he was there. But you don't let your heart fool you. You didn't show him that you missed him.

"What do you mean? You are coming with me. You are my wife!" No you don't. You ask him to leave you alone but his love for you was huge enough to even let you blink without helping you from now on. "You are my wife! Of course I didn't sign the fucking papers!" "I love you! You know it! About that night -" You didn't want to hear that. It doesn't matter anymore! He sleeps with another woman even if he had regret it, you didn't know he was drunk anyway. You thought it could happen again. She wouldn't go back with him. You would go back to your family. Raise the child there. You were crazy to think that Gojo Satoru would you even think to let you do that.

The tension had increased, you had to limit your conversation somewhere else. The small house you were renting was a few steps away. All in all it was a room with a bathroom and besides it was cold. How the hell did you stay there pregnant woman. He turned his gaze a little and saw an electric heater. He had left you to live alone, in your condition, in this cold place. He was trying to contain himself thinking about you trying to warm up to it. What did you eat? "I'm taking your things and we go home, I'm gonna cook-" You had made your decisions. You wouldn't let him break your heart again.

"Baby, come on, your things, your life is back in our house." The only things you left behind were the ones he had bought you himself. As long as you were married, he didn't let you work. He wanted you to live comfortably, he never believed that his money was only his. They were yours.

How could he convince you to stay with him, that it was a mistake. You couldn't take this argument, this pressure anymore. You felt a sudden malaise, holding your stomach with one hand and the other trying to support yourself on him. He tried to help you recover, he wanted to but all he ended up doing was calling your name with you in his arms. You opened your eyes and tried to recover. He would take you to the hospital right now. But you didn't want to, you just needed to get your face wet.

He could not understand how you were so insensitive to your health and that of your child. He refused not to visit the hospital. You just passed out! And oh my god! He also lost his own land under his feet when you looked at him with pain and told him that you had passed out again. In a place like this. Without help. If you didn't wake up? Stop his thoughts of the scenario before imagining your destiny.

Here you go again, in your shared bedroom. You stand up from the bed but before standing in your feet he stops you and puts you back to lay down. As long as you were asleep he ended up calling a doctor and checking you up at home. You accept your loss. You weren't able to leave him behind. But he knows that soon or later you would understand and forgive me but until then here he is protecting you, keeping you warm and full of food 24/7.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #y/n #jjk x y/n #gojo x y/n #imagine #gojo satoru imagine

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sluttysanemi · 2 months

Note

Hiiii I wanted to ask if I could get a nude sending fanfic cause I rarely see any like Giyuu x reader sending nudes please!! I would be on my knees begging 😞

:･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ

PHOTOS

c/w: suggestive / smut ,, subtle masturbation, sending nudes, established relationship

a/n: ok slut nation. i lied. there was no sanemi snippet. I WAS TIRED!!! and it was my birthday on the 20th, so sorry 4 the late post!

a quick clear-up as well, because someone else had asked, i dont think i'll do nsfw of minors, even aged up. it's jst a bit.. iffy? you know what i mean? cuz u know, what's the age in which its wrong to write nsfw 4 the character, even if its aged up? its sort of hard to explain.. sorry!

An unexpected notification in the midst of silence. Giyuu glances upwards, along his phone, pleased to see your note.

You and Tomioka had recently engaged in a long-distance romance, whilst you had traveled to visit family. Despite the physical distance, the connection with Giyuu stood tightly, as you both took effort to communicate regularly. The prospect of rejoining swelled his heart with delight.

He swiftly taps the rectangular frame of the notification, opening your conversation.

Your intimacy was potent, with many rekindling sceneries of passion within the sheets. This distance had interrupted their romantic endeavors, which rationally irked you both.

You missed one another- both sensually yet emotionally. You wanted little else than to relive those driven moments again.

Your ravenous instincts had triumphed across your thoughts, and you had craved the surge of dopamine that Giyuu delivered.

He was surprised, as he witnessed the content you had sent.

In the dank silence of his room, with his phone a single dimly lit source of light, an energy of lust envelopes his senses, as he gazes at your picture.

His mind becomes graphic, with erotic detail, as he stares at your nude body. His eyes trail over, his thoughts recalling the sensation of your physique whilst you had been together.

He watches your breast, your delicate nipple pointed. The curved shape of your ass, the soft plush of your skin addictive to knead.

His eyes scanned over your text, as you detailed how you had missed him. He knew.

His cheeks tinge in color, as his shaft begins to thicken within the soft fabric of his sweatpants.

His hands carefully trail to his stiffening bulge, palming and caressing in a forlorn attempt to relieve himself. His brows knit closely, as his breath began to stream in uneven layers.

You'd caused something to him. You struck him harshly. You always could. It was the influence you had over him. Despite his best initiatives, he could never withstand your effect. Your impact on him was undeniable and yet so pleasurable.

He gently tugs on the waistband of his clothing, allowing his cock to spring upwards eagerly.

He needed to show your lasting effects on him.

He holds the base of his shaft, his lips quivering as his fingertips grasp the pulsing veins of his eager dick.

Angling his phone near it, he captures a picture of his spilling shaft, illustrating its eager state.

He promptly sends it to you, as he had clarified how much he misses you. Needs you.

He expresses a longing for your presence, desiring deeply, lecherously, to see you once more. His message conveys an urgent desire for your company.

And God, he couldn’t wait to feel your cunt around him again.

To watch your gentle face retort in thrill as he would please you over and over, endlessly.

It tortured him.

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eggluverz · 9 months

Note

danheng college roommate au 🥹

— HOT AND COLD

In which Dan Heng runs hot and blasts the air conditioner to keep cool, and you feel like you’re living in the arctic.

PAIRING. dan heng x gn!reader

GENRE. modern au, roommate au

WORD COUNT. 1238

NOTE. and they were roommates :> ty for the idea anon!! it was vague enough so i kinda just ran with it LOL dan heng running the ac in this asian household? wild xD anyway pls enjoy!!

You had gone through this school year in relative peace with your roommate.

When the school year started, you were unable to secure on-campus housing in time and thankfully your friends found a social media thread of other college students living off-campus who needed someone to share an apartment with. Dan Heng immediately stood out of the crowd, solely for how handsome he looked in profile picture alone. Who needed other sources of credibility when they were pretty?

For most of the year, the two of you lived pretty separate lives. When you were home, you were usually in your room unless you wanted to cook. When Dan Heng was home, it was the same. And add the fact that he only exited his room during ungodly hours of the night, it was a recipe for never really bumping into each other.

It made you a little sad, naturally. You wanted to be close with your roommate and have movie nights and game nights, but he set the tone for wanting to live together, yet separate, and you found it simpler to adhere to his wishes.

But as the weather warmed up, as did your serendipitous contact with Dan Heng. For starters, right as winter came to an end and spring only remotely gave its warm greeting, you would see Dan Heng head to the living room and turn on the air conditioner while you were eating on the kitchen island.

As it grew hotter out, Dan Heng only lowered the thermostat more and more. Causing you to freeze more and more.

Now, you enjoyed living in a nice and temperate room like most people, but with how your roommate set the thermostat, your apartment was well below room temperature! Below freezing if you wanted to be dramatic. It was a little ridiculous how cold it was, in your humble opinion. Did he want to live in the snow?

One particular cold night, you came out to boil yourself some hot water for your hot chocolate and marshmallows. It may have been burning hot out, but inside was a winter wonderland, so you figured you may as well get in the mood. You had fuzzy pajama pants on, along with a longsleeve shirt and a scarf wrapped around your neck and a beanie on your head.

Just as you were about to go back to your room and wrap yourself under a million fluffy blankets, Dan Heng emerged from his room to head to the thermostat.

He paused as you walked by him, eyes widening at the sight. Dan Heng himself wore nothing but a pair of gray sweats and a black shirt. He stared at you for a few moments.

“Are you feeling ill?” he asked, one of the first words you’ve heard him say this whole month.

You shook yourself. “No! I’m feeling perfectly fine,” you said, voice muffled from the scarf that half-covered your mouth.

He blinked. “But… your outfit.”

“I’m just a little chilly, is all.”

He walked over to you with his arm outstretched. He brought his hand close to you and asked, “May I?”

You nodded.

Dan Heng lifted your beanie slightly and placed the back of his palm on your forehead. It was instantly warm to the touch and you wanted to place it right on your cold cheek to heat it up. He stayed in that position for a while, a look of deep thought on his face. “Hmm… Your temperature doesn’t seem to be of concern. It does seem safe to assume you’re not sick.”

“Yeah! I’m feeling fine. Just a bit cold, like I said.”

Dan Heng looked between his bare arms and your fully covered ones. He ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You looked at him, confused.

He elaborated, “I didn’t realize I was making the apartment unliveable for you.”

“No, no! I wouldn’t say unliveable. I’m cold, yes, but it’s nothing some layers can’t fix.” Besides, the two of you were lucky enough to live in an apartment that covered utilities for you. He could run the AC and heater on all day and all night if he truly wished.

Dan Heng shook his head. “I should’ve been more attentive to the needs of the other occupants. I’ll keep the temperature higher for you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you teased, noting the look of intense worry on his face. You took a sip of your hot chocolate and smiled at him. “But thank you.”

˖⁺‧₊˚❀˚₊‧⁺˖

Dan Heng was nothing but determined, it seemed.

You could tell the next day because instead of the igloo your apartment once was, it now became a sauna.

As you walked into the building after a nice walk outside in the hot sun, you were looking forward to the cool air greeting you. However, what you got was a blast of heated air blowing on your face.

You instantly fanned yourself with your hand as you called, “Dan Heng?”

You didn’t have to look very far because as you walked into the living room, you noticed him shirtless and slightly glistening, a book in one hand an a popsicle in another.

He straightened up as he heard you approach. “Welcome home,” he greeted.

“Hi,” you said with a sheepish wave, trying to keep your eyes off his well-defined chest muscles.

“Is the temperature more to your liking?”

You stared at him, your body and face growing warmer as the hot air continued to blow around you. For a moment, you considered agreeing with him, if only to commend his efforts. You noticed he was putting up with being comfortable if it would have made you more comfortable. However, you felt pretty miserable and you figured you would rather freeze than have the both of you melt inside your apartment.

“Not exactly,” you said, feeling a bead of sweat forming on your temple. “It’s hotter in here and outside, Dan Heng!”

His cheeks that were flushed pink from the heat turned even redder. “Perhaps I overestimated how warm you liked your living area.”

“I think you did!” You couldn’t stop the amused laughter from coming out of your mouth. “I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think living in a sauna is fun for either of us.”

He nodded in agreement. A drop of his popsicle melted and slowly made its way towards his hand. He briefly licked it before it could make a mess.

“I’m going to turn the air conditioner back on,” you said in amusement. “Maybe set it to a nice, room temperature.”

“I agree that would be for the best.”

You walked over to the thermostat and adjusted the temperature accordingly. You felt your body warming with each step. There was no way you wanted to stay in your apartment while it was still this hot.

“It’s going to take a while for our apartment to cool down,” you laughed. “Do you want to go out and get some ice cream while we wait? Maybe go to the beach?”

Dan Heng considered it for a moment, finishing up the small remainder of his popsicle. “I’d like that. We haven’t had much time to bond as roommates. Maybe this would be a good time.”

You nodded. “Something is telling me I’d really enjoy getting to know you more.”

He smiled. “I feel the same.”

“Let’s go have a beach day, roomie!”

#honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #dan heng x reader #dan heng #hsr #hsr fluff #dan heng x you #dan heng x y/n #hsr imagines #hsr fanfiction

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shinjisdone · 7 months

Text

Ticking Springs

(A Yandere Pinocchio X fem!Reader fic from Lies of P)

Pɑɾt 1; Sluɱbeɾ

Here is: capitolo uno

Capitolo due

Capitolo tre

Capitolo quattro

Capitolo cinque

Capitolo sei

Capitolo sette

Capitolo otto

Capitolo nove

Capitolo dieci

Pɑɾt 2; Awɑƙeƞiƞƍ

It was a privilege to share the same blood as Giuseppe Geppetto. To be his family, his niece and take part in the marvelous worlds of puppets. The privilege to learn from him as his apprentice. The privilege to care for the things he cares for and to have the things he cares for, care deeply for you.

Tag List:

@greeknerd007 , @mitsureigen , @kame11a , @thirdblogsacharm , @sarah22447 , @blueberryhitosh1 , @written1nthest4rs , @huicitawrites

TW: Yandere behaviour, creepy and still puppet, dubious intentions and relationship, still in WIP more warnings may occurr in time

The rain poured and poured upon the workshop's roof. It seemd to have been doing so for the past week but, judging from the humming evidently resounding from the room deep within the building, the only resident there did not seem to care too much.

The floors creaked in the room, still old and dusty - especially compared to the rest of the rooms in the house - but she was sure this was a simple and temporary oversight of her uncle. The rain may pour with a few thunder growling outside but she had long not been a little and frightened child anymore. Even so, the humming was her way of keeping herself company.

Even at the attempt of putting the old, amateur tools neatly away, they still fell to the ground and she had to keep getting them back up. That was admittedly vexing. Still, the song in her head and the flickering of the lamp above were enough.

Finally, the arm would move a bit more freely. She had long learned that her hands would get dirtied but to have this amount of oil taint her skin for such a meek but precious doll was still surprising. She wouldn't tell Uncle that though. Yet, with a deep breath, she took the small paintbrush back into her palm.

"...I know you..." The humming turned into soft singing as she cocked her head for a better angle. "...I walked with you, once upon a dream..." Stopping for a moment to catch her breath, she tilted the doll further to the light. A noise of confusion errupted before she got an idea.

"I know you, that glint in your," She halted for a second to catch her thoughts as the blonde locks didn't exactly seem to stick on her head. She quickly opened the drawer next to her, yelped at the loud creak, before fishing out a needle. The singing went from a piano to a forte. "Eyes is so familiar, a gleam..."

Finally, the wig would stay tight. She hoped.

For safety's sake, she pulled on one lock and found herself glad that it stayed put. "And I know it's true, that visions are seldom all they seem...but if I know you..." Soon, her hands went to the hems of the dress and checked the fabric. It wasn't as blue as it used to be and she wondered if she should make an exact copy but just in pink. That is sure to impress.

"...I know what you'll do..."

Eyebrows scrunched up in thought. Would he even recognize it's the same doll then? Surely, an skilled puppet maker like Uncle certainly would...but his memory at this old age? She didn't know.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she let it be. That gives it character - and even if it does not, the memory of her percious ol' doll still delights her to this day, even as an adult. With a swing, she got up from the plush stool and danced with the toy as she did as a kid. It is the quality that will certainly impress.

"...You'll love me at once, the way you did once...upon a dream~!"

Soon, the thunder growled loueder and it was easy to reckon another resident entered the workshop at this late hour. Heavy footsteps followed with quiet grunts of how the entire entrance was now wet. The doll was quickly tucked and hidden inside the drawer and lighter, faster footsteps sped down the stairs. The man tunred to the source of ecxitement as he took off his drenched hat.

"Welcome back, Uncle Geppetto."

He greeted you in return. "Thank you. You're up and about this late." The gentleman hung his hat on the rack before removing each layer of wet clothes off with with frustration. The rain - no, storm - has been dragging him down the past week.

Cleaning his monocle dry, he put it back on to get a good look at you. Hands patted down the stained and old striped pants of his that he borrowed you from younger times. It was when you so abruptly arrived and was meant to serve as a sort of substitute - but you both agreed it was time to treat the old thing as a worker's outfit, held up by the old straps for as long as they still could and not grieving once the entire set is done and dusted. Only a few more uses left, before it will be thrown out entirely. Or cut up and used as a rag. Or as some substitute clothing for a puppet your size.

Finding a suitable shirt wasn't hard. All that was needed was one of yours that was allowed to get dirty, stained and ripped. Your mother was first hesitant to send you any of your good clothes if it meant being anywhere near the workshop. Yet she was still eager to use the opportunity to finally get rid of your old clohtes she wasn't too keen on. The shoes belonged to your father, a pair she found lying around and didn't have the heart to throw those ones away.

Yet, it was your hands neatly hidden behind your back and your honest smile that caught Geppetto's brown eyes.

"I take it you have been a good girl while I was gone?" Just as you were about to answer with an high 'Of course, Uncle.', the man quickly continued. "Good girls go to bed at this hour."

You sigh. "Oh, Uncle," Your shoulders fell, "I understand but I am no child anymore." "Child or not, nothing good comes from being up at this unholy hour. You don't have to wait for me to come home, dear. You know I have the key and go and return whenever the puppets call me." He laughed but was clearly shivering from the cold. Even his gray, thick beard and mustache were dripping with cold raindrops.

"Now, come on. Get tidy and sleep. Nothing can be done this late, let's continue tomorrow." Geppetto sniffed, scratching his nose and walked towards the living room. Through the small hallway, he passed a few naked puppet forms, put aside for a project he had initially forgotten. The sight of them makes him sigh.

Yet so were your quick footsteps, following him. "You say that but we haven't done anything the past week. I am already done with fixing up the butlers." You meant to point at the two butler puppets, their coats and paint fresh and done but Geppetto had long passed them and so did you. "They..still malfunction, slightly, but I have done what you asked me to, Uncle."

For a moment he looked back before sighing again and stopping. You manage to stop before bumping into him. "...I will take a look at those tomorrow. I cannot think now, I cannot give you an answer right now, dear. Just wait and do as I say. We can discuss more with fresh minds and fresher bodies."

Without hesitation you closed your mouth shut and nodded. You could tell he was not in the mood to discuss your apprenticeship and your impatience. He took your obedience with a smile and a nod. "Good night, then, (Name). And don't have me catch you out of your bed at this time again. You'll see that this behaviour will only bring you consequences."

With a single pat on you shoulder which left it wet, Geppetto left to his bedroom without another word. You hid your disappointment as you went to your own before reminding yourself to tidy up, just as he asked you to. He may be treating you like a child but you supposed that does not make his words any less wise. You did not wish to upset him even more now, anyway.

As you followed your uncle's request, your humming resumed though quieter. You found your routine to be over quite quickly due to the exhaustion you evidently but still, frustratingly, felt. Good thing Uncle was not there to witness it.

Still, with a resolute peek, you looked over the doll you hid which mended your disappointment even a little bit - before heading off to bed.

Even as your humming grew quieter, the tones still resounded in the dark room below. The third resident did hear, unlike your uncle.

ok, I NEEDED to write this, this has been on my mind an entire week. i have...so much brainrot and ideas.

female reader, niece of geppetto and apprentice when krat was stil o-kay

but things kinda go???? bad??? haywire???

geppetto going insane and weird haha

reader going from naive to AAAAAAA

kinda??? weird relationship with geppetto???

angst

angst from the past

i kinda wanna have the reader and pinocchio to also have a dubious relationship??? Like, its not gonna be fluffy wholesome

yandere~ mute~ creepy~ puppet~ literally not saying a word, no pov from his side just - actions. yandere actions.

not sure how to intertwine this with the story. im not too caught up with it (unlike pino's eyes) but i really dont know if i should even include gemini or sophia. kinda like??? au?

youre stuck with the puppet

also not sure if there is like- sexism and shit in there. its like the victorian era but an FANTASY victorian era

ppl gonna be mean t you

Lies of P Pinocchio: *exists*

me:

#lies of p #yandere lies of p #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p x reader #yandere pinocchio x reader #pinoccio #fem!reader #ticking springs

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zhongrin · 1 year

Text

unconvincing

◇ characters ◇ zhongli

◇ tags ◇ modern!au, formerdelinquent!zhongli, professor!zhongli

◇ a/n ◇ this au has me in a chokehold i swear

part 1 ⬙ part 2 ⬙ part 3

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

zhongli wore gloves now.

you presume he noticed that you saw his scars and how they aided you in connecting the dots regarding his identity, and so he chooses to cover them up.

well, that’s too bad. you think he has quite the pretty hands. you wonder, had you been brave enough back then, would you have been able to hold his younger self’s hand too? would his hands be smaller than they are now? would it have had the same deliciously protruding veins and the little scars, like that bump near one of his knuckles on his-

“is the tea not to your liking?”

you blink and freeze upon a familiar set of ambers staring you down. caught off guard, your cheeks heat up rapidly and you duck your head in favor of setting down the teacup a little too harshly against the plastic table of the staff’s break room. you feel guilty, like a child who just stole a forbidden candy, but you force your voice to sound normal as you settle your palms on your lap, gripping the material of your clothes tight.

“o-oh no, it’s great! uh- this is darjeeling, right?”

“ah, you recognize the taste? yes. these are the second flush leaves, and so if you noticed there’s a very distinct muscatel aroma-”

morax- no, zhongli launches into an explanation over the harvesting process of this specific darjeeling tea leaves, and you can’t help but drown yourself in the allure of his voice. you remember it being slightly a little more high-pitched than this, although it was rougher around its edges and delivered with a mostly stoic facade back then. in the present time, his voice is smooth and clear, like the undeterred trickle of a clear stream sourced from the tallest mountains.

at these moments, it feels as if morax and zhongli were two different people altogether.

you would have never thought you would be able to sit at the same table as morax like this; not even in your wildest dreams. and it all started with a simple invite for a “tea break”, one day. to return the favor for the chocolate, he had said. you brought a few tea biscuits along, and before you could dread the awkwardness that would result from your poor communication skill, zhongli had taken the mantle of the conversationalist. before you knew it, you were both so lost in sharing all the things you’ve done after high school with each other, you almost missed the recess-is-over bell.

despite almost being late to your classes, the next day, he told you he had procured new tea leaves for the both of you to enjoy. you could barely hold yourself back from jumping in excitement as you followed him to the same break room (huh, maybe that high school crush never really did left you completely). rinse and repeat, lo and behold, the “tea break” becomes a routine, and now both of your students know where to find you when they need to ask questions when the second recess comes by.

it’s not long before the young ones started using their young adult brains to concoct some theories about the two of you. you’re always together. you seem so close to each other in a way that other teachers can’t replicate. therefore, they’re quite sure there must be something going on between two of their favorite teachers.

“mx. [name], are you dating mr. zhongli?”

you cough and sputter at the sudden question that came out of nowhere. just five minutes ago, the girl had stopped you in the hallway to ask about the recent assignment you gave her class, so naturally, you indulged her questions and soothed her anxiety about not being able to complete it in time.

but to suddenly spring something like this on you??

“no, we are not. whatever makes you think so? now, if that's all-”

“but you’re always together! on recess and stuff… plus you walk home with each other too!” she looks up at you with innocent pair of doe eyes and gasps, “oh! is it because you're both already living together? that must be it!”

“no, no no no no! dear gods, you’ve got it all wrong!”

“then what is it?? mx! you’re hiding a secret from us!!”

well, yes, but no, you thought in frustration. you’re smart enough to know why zhongli does not want his past as morax revealed. and you’re now good enough friends-slash-coworkers that you want to prevent his career from being destroyed just because of the mistakes he made in his youth. so you choose to avoid answering the real question.

running away has always been one of your many talents, after all.

“our relationship is strictly professional.”

“but-”

“there is nothing else to be said.”

“aw, mx, come onnn-”

“is there an issue?”

your timing couldn’t be worse, you yell inwardly as a clueless zhongli enters the scene. with one sweeping look across the area, you can already tell the majority of the students are listening silently at the exchange. no doubt whatever transpires today will spread all over the student body by the end of the day.

you would know. you were just like them once upon a time.

“mr. zhongli!” the girl beams, eyes starry, as she glances at the two of you in interest, “i was just asking mx. [name] about your relationship!!”

“our… relationship?” the man repeats, blinking, a look of alarm crossing his face.

“yup! soooo…. are you dating or are you married? it’s got to be either one of the two, right?”

you resist the urge to hide your head in your hands or to fake a sudden dizzy spell right in the middle of the hallway. you expected zhongli to recoil in disgust. perhaps frown and sigh, before continuing to chide the student for her overly active imagination-

-but you never expected him to chuckle in amusement.

“my, what an honor. so, do you think we look good together?”

“not just me! everyone does!! we totally ship- i mean- we’re totally rooting for you!! wait… so is it really true?!”

“unfortunately, neither is the case,” zhongli says calmly, and he checks his wrists before giving the student a gentle smile, and an equally gentle nudge in the form of her name. “why don't you move along? i believe you have your drama club practice soon.”

“oh, shit! right! bye mx. [name], mr. zhongli-” she gives you both a devious grin, “mark my words, this isn’t over!”

“language!” he calls out as the young girl speeds away, before turning to you, “are you alright, [name]?”

“i- yes. just a little frazzled. that was… unexpected…,” you say as normally as possible when all you want to do is to grab his collar and shake him because what the hell was that response and what did he mean by ‘unfortunately’???

“i see. as luck would have it, i have some tea leaves with a calming effect on my personage. and there’s never a rule to never drink more than one type of tea in a day. how about partaking in an extra cup in my office?”

“…. only if i get to grade some assignments while we’re at it.”

“sounds like a plan.”

as zhongli leads you away from the scene with his hand on your back, with you musing about the preparation for the nearing school festival, a unanimous thought united the students who had been watching the scene.

they’re totally dating, at the very least.

literally how are they not married?

#astronetwrk #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #zhongli #zhongli x reader #rin writes

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porcelainseashore · 3 months

Text

Ghosts from the Past (6)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Agent! Leon Kennedy x Dancer! Informant! Fem! Reader

Summary: 7 years after leaving behind everything you’ve known, you’re suddenly thrust into facing a ghost from your past, Leon. Navigating where you stand with him brings up old memories, painful truths and countless questions. At the same time, you have to deal with a bunch of strange occurrences at your dance company. Set after Resident Evil 4 Remake.

Warnings: 18+ Swearing, Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Eventual Smut, No (Y/N), Canon-Typical Horror and Violence, Blood, Injury, Torture, Infection, Medical Experiments, Psychological Trauma, Nightmares

Content: Post-Resident Evil 4, Exes to Lovers, Partners to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Lack of Communication, Romance, Fluff

Author's Note: I’m afraid I have to bring out the big guns for this chapter. So here are all the content warnings for what lies within: lack of agency, torture, blood, injury, violence including brief clinical sexual violence, and finally, medical experimentation.

AO3 Link

Chapter 6: Entwined

You remember falling asleep in Leon’s arms. After tugging you in for a goodnight kiss, he snuggled up against you in bed. Holding you tight, he made you feel protected and warm, like nothing could hurt you. There was a genuine smile on his face, one you hadn’t seen in a very long time, and the steady beating of his heart vibrated against yours, a gentle cadence that lulled you to sleep.

A while later, you stirred. It was cold and drafty, like you had kicked off the blankets and your bare skin was exposed. Goosebumps formed along your body as you shivered, feeling the hard ground beneath you. Where on earth-?

You had to squint when you opened your eyes, as a harsh beam of white light shone directly in your face, like you were in an interrogation room. Raising your palm in front of you to shield yourself from the light source, you slowly started to realize that you were lying on the theater stage, framed by a single spotlight.

Springing upright, you surveyed the area frantically, but there was not a soul in sight. You were alone on stage in a dark, empty auditorium. When you checked yourself, you somehow had your slip and coat on, but nothing else on you. Your feet had been left uncovered, and were looking rather worse for wear.

Was this another one of those weird dreams again? Well, whatever. First things first. Just find the exit and get outta here, you told yourself.

Leaving muddy and bloodied footprints across the floor, you hopped off the stage, wincing in pain as if your feet had been through a shredder. When you made your way past the last row of the stalls before the theater doors, you heard a seat folding back onto itself loudly, like someone had been sitting there all along and left in a hurry. Your eyes darted around the theater, but it was void of any presence. At that moment, a chill ran down your spine. Someone was watching you.

Hastening your steps towards the doors, you swung them open, but ended up in a gloomy hallway, as opposed to the grand foyer you were expecting. What the-

Anxiety was starting to rise within you and beads of cold sweat trickled down your forehead. This wasn’t right. None of this felt right at all. You rushed through the hallway, opening door after door, but each of them brought you into the same loop, like what had happened with Ada before. You stopped, banging your fist against the wall in frustration, as you let out a vexed groan.

And then you heard it. The faint sound of a child crying which merged into that of a woman laughly wickedly. Your blood reacted instantly to it. It curdled, and under your translucent skin, you saw wispy, black secretions traveling up and down your veins. There was a sinking feeling in your chest. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what this meant, as you berated yourself for ignoring the signs earlier. You were fucked. So royally fucked.

Even though you tried to run away from the sounds, it felt as though they were getting closer, or perhaps your legs were defying your will, and directing you towards them instead. You noticed the air growing muggier, like when you were in the underground lair with Leon. This whole time, instead of heading for the exit like you had thought, you were being led further down, into the lower levels.

The next room you entered caused you to let out a startled yelp. Bathed in the dusky glow of a candle by a table, Silje was sitting on a luxurious armchair with ornate carvings. Her back was facing you, as she reached out for a glass of red wine. An obsidian puddle lay at her feet simmering like boiling broth.

“Silje?” You called out.

“Yes, dear?” She continued drinking without turning in your direction.

Taking a few tentative steps forward, you asked, “What’s going on? Why am I here?”

Finally, she swiveled her head towards you, flashing a broad smile, teeth stained red from the wine. “Well, because you belong with me, along with the rest.” She gestured to a faraway spot further down the hallway.

“You really are taking to it so well, my child. I am impressed.”

Eyeing your bewildered expression, she explained, “It’s the first time someone’s heard the call from such a distance.”

“What the fuck?” You shook your head, refusing to believe that you had been mind controlled to sleepwalk all the way to the theater. And even so, how had Leon not noticed your movement and absence?

Glancing between the palms of your hands as if they had been marked with something strange, you exclaimed, “What did you do to me?”

All at once, you felt a wave of nausea wash over you and you collapsed to the ground on all fours, heaving violently. Black bile pumped from your stomach and gushed out of your mouth as if a dam had burst. You retched and wailed in terror at the scene, as Silje glided across the room to you, gently running her fingers through your hair to calm you down.

“Shhh, shhh…” she cooed. “The effects take some time to get used to. And then there won’t be any more pain and suffering. No more hallucinations.” She placed a finger to your lips, drawing figures on your chin with the black substance. “Judging by your blood’s affinity with the mold, it won’t be long before you truly become your own person.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as she confirmed what you had been transformed into. You were now one of those things that the government hunted down, and you watched the life you had dreamed of building with Leon crumble away into nothingness. “Why?” You choked out.

“You accepted the gift. Don’t you remember?” Her tone grew impatient with your questioning. “You and a few dancers, though some reacted badly and failed. You were the best.” She stroked your cheek tenderly.

“All of you are my children, what I could not have before. Now you and I are of the same blood.” She clasped your hand in hers, squeezing it tightly like both of you had made an unbreakable pact.

“I raised you and cared for you with everything I could offer. Believe me, this was just a small price to pay so that we could be together and continue what I have created all these years… I won’t have some rogue taking over my legacy!” She sneered at the thought.

You had heard whispers of what would happen when Silje passed on. It seemed as though people in the arts world couldn’t wait for her to go, so they could snatch up whatever they could, taking her work apart piece by piece and claiming it as their own, the minute they got their hands on it. There was even mention of a rival choreographer vying to be the company’s next artistic director. In some way, you understood the sheer desperation that caused Silje to resort to such unscrupulous methods. What they were doing to her was insulting and uncalled for. But like she suggested, everything had its price.

“What price?” You wondered out loud.

“I have the means to fund the research, and in exchange they allowed me a select group to reap the benefits with and call my own.” She pursed her lips, hesitating a little. “They also wanted the ova from those with particularly high affinity.”

“No!” You screeched, your mind was whirling and you expelled even more of the black contents, feeling like your body had been violated unconditionally.

“Oh, my poor-”

You shrank away from her in disgust. “Don’t touch me!” Tears streamed down your face as you wiped your mouth with your hand, retreating until your back was pressed against the wall. “How could you?”

Silje regarded you with a sense of lament, but ultimately mustered her resolve, insisting to you that she had made the right choice. “The gift I have shared with you is worth more than every transgression you have suffered. You’ll come around to it in time, and you will thank me.”

“You’re mad,” you intoned under your breath in shock.

“Here, let me show you.” She reached out her hand. “Maybe it becomes easier once you’re acquainted with the specimens.”

Out of morbid curiosity, you took it and followed her past the winding corridors to a set of heavy steel doors coated in red. Just like in the dream - except it wasn’t one. You had lived through every horror in the vision you saw.

Upon scanning her keycard, you entered into a vast underground area, which you assumed was where the laboratory was stationed. A bunch of security personnel greeted the two of you as you strolled past them, onto an overhead bridge which led to an elevator that traveled downwards.

When you got to the bottom level, you spotted a handful of scientists milling about, typing up reports on their computers and scribbling down notes on their clipboards, as they observed various stages of experiments in controlled environments behind glass panels. As you walked further along, you came across a couple of stasis pods. Within them were young children, girls?, you weren’t sure, as they were completely deformed and mutilated. Covered in melanoid slime, their body parts were either missing or rearranged in a haphazard manner. It was appalling to see what others had done to them in the name of money, destruction and science.

“This one.” Silje tapped on one of the pods.

Beatrice, it read in bold print on an external label.

“It is connected to you.”

Placing your hand against the glass, you peered at the mangled figure in front of you, as traces of grief and pity surged within you. Recollecting what you had seen in the report that Till had given to you, you understood what Silje was trying to say.

“You forced her to infect me.” To you, she was still a human being.

At your accusation, Silje whipped around, replying harshly, “Don’t be so melodramatic. It’s what they are made for.”

“Now, you will feel a bond to it, though it will affect you less and less as time goes by,” she explained. “Even with its death, it cannot take away what you will get from the mold.”

“Can you see why they took your ova?” She questioned.

You raised a hand to your mouth, quivering as you spoke, “They want to make more of them… my god-”

At that moment, Beatrice’s eyes flew open, vivid yellow like a toxic sign, staring straight at you. You staggered backwards as you felt an icy cold grip on your head, as if someone was trying to pry into it. Random images of the laboratory, a baby bawling and jet black ooze flashed across your mind. But most of all, was the overwhelming sensation of being attached to her and wanting to protect her from any harm.

Silje held you in her arms, comforting you from all the emotions and memories you were experiencing. “I know, I know… it will soon pass.”

However, in the next few seconds, her mood changed. She started sniffing you, your hair and your neck, almost obsessively. The way a dog would inhale the scent of something new.

“I can smell a man on you,” she began suspiciously.

A jolt of fear struck you, making your heart race. How much would she find out? You’d been with other men before. What made it different this time?

“That boy from your high school.”

Just as she said that, you heard a commotion coming from the security screens nearby. Multiple shots were being fired and yells for backup resounded from the intercoms. A quick glance towards the screen confirmed it. You saw the video footage of Leon running through the hallways, dodging bullets and swiftly disabling his opponents. If there was such a thing as a one-man army, he was it.

Silje’s eyes roved around, as if she was trying to figure out where something was located. They came to rest on the side of your coat, where an inconspicuous, pin-sized tag had been placed discreetly.

“A tracker,” she jeered. “I should’ve known you’re with him.”

As she put two and two together, her expression contorted into an assortment of betrayal, scorn and profound disappointment. At lightning speed, she yanked your hair back into death grip, nearly breaking your neck as she mocked you contemptuously, “I have to hand it to you, my dear. You were so careful up to now, but this-”

Raising two fingers of her other gloved hand before you, she stuck them between your legs without warning, causing you to squirm and squeal out in discomfort. A thick, opalescent fluid glazed them as she pulled out, creating a damp patch on the leather. “This just gave you away.”

“Silje… please!” You begged, but she wasn’t having any of it.

“Silence!” She let go of your hair, smacking you across the face with the back of her hand. The force of it was so strong that there was a metallic tang of iron on your tongue as you fell to the floor in a heap.

Licking her lips, she sucked her gloved fingers dry and laughed menacingly. “So, this is what he tastes like, hm? Well, no matter. Now I know what his weakness is.”

“Funny that it’s all coming full circle, isn’t it?” Her lilting voice permeated the space and she spoke as if she was telling a story. “There was intel on an American agent snooping around, sticking his nose in places where he shouldn’t be. Hah! I knew that boy would grow up to be nothing but trouble.”

She paced around you, like a shark circling its prey. “And you… the mole,” she tutted. “Out of all people, I had never once doubted you.”

A look of dismay washed over her features as she lashed out. “I took you in like a mother, gave you everything and more than what you could possibly dream of! This is how you repay me?”

Her wrath knew no bounds as she chastised you, while you wept bitterly, knowing you were a traitor through and through. Your hair cascaded in a disheveled mess over your face, as blood and saliva dribbled down your mouth, sticking to the ground in a string. “I’m sorry, please… I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, guilt seeping through every crevice of your body.

You didn’t want to harm her in any way. You just wished that she wouldn’t have had the urge to get involved in such an organization from the start.

Crawling towards her feet, you tried to appeal to her again to reconsider her actions. “Silje, you don’t have to do this. Please-” You reached out and latched on to her shoe, curling up beside her like a child would with their parent. “All of this… and the destruction it will bring, it’s not worth it. You know that,” you reasoned. “I don’t want you to end up in a bad place. You still have time, you could turn in the people responsible and I’ll vouch-”

"Enough!" Silje's command sliced through the air like a knife, yet you caught a momentary glimpse of sympathy in her eyes.

“Nothing you say will make me change my mind.” She clenched her jaw as she knelt beside you, tidying your hair and combing it out of your face.

“I’ve seen first-hand what the mold can do.” The pitch black puddle from the candlelit room reappeared, sliding across the floor as it attached itself on to Silje’s gloves, rippling around them like clouded orbs. “Its regenerative qualities, even immortality… and so many other dormant powers lying in wait to be discovered. Beautiful, isn’t it?”

A gun shot rang out in the distance and you saw the scientists disperse, breaking Silje out of her reverie. “It’s just a shame it had to come to this.”

Something sinister flickered in her eyes, as she glanced over at you, grabbing one of your legs roughly. It felt like you were being weighed down by a ton of bricks, as she held you in place. Despite your struggling, you couldn’t move an inch.

“I’m tired of waiting for this boy,” she sighed. “He just needs a little motivation to speed things up, don’t you think?”

Before you could respond, Silje reinforced her grip on your leg and in one effortless motion, you heard the sickening sound of your shin snapping cleanly in two. An excruciating wave of pain coursed through your body, triggering a bloodcurdling scream that tore from your throat. Sharp, jagged edges of bone peeked through your skin and everything was washed in scarlet red. There was so much of it pouring out, you were nauseous at the sight.

Leon took the bait, as Silje had planned, yelling your name hysterically. He was getting closer and you wanted to stop him, but you were unable to vocalize anything beyond incoherent screeches. You made out his shape in your hazy vision, as he dashed over to you, cradling your limp body in his arms.

“No, no… don’t speak,” he hushed you as you sputtered helplessly. “I’m gonna get you out of here.” Scrambling for his medpack, he administered a first aid spray on your open wound. It was the best he could do for now.

“Trap.” Your voice cracked under strain, you pushed whatever words you could out of your mouth. “Go, you need to-”

“I know,” he asserted. “But I’m not leaving you.”

There was an acute sting at the back of your head and you realized your time was running out. You needed to warn him fast. “I’m infected, they got me under-”

But you weren’t quick enough to complete your sentence. You felt the claws of the little girl, Beatrice, sinking into your brain, directing your moves like a stage puppet. It was an out-of-body experience and you could only watch powerlessly as she turned you against him, for her own self-preservation.

Your hand reached for his combat knife, unsheathing it before he had a chance to react. You slashed ferociously at him, as he backed away, blocking your attacks but unwilling to counter you in return. As if you were a rag doll being pieced back together, your shin bone clicked into place, while an onyx substance swam along the veins protruding from your leg.

You lunged his knife at him again and again with no sign of letting up, while he was on the defensive, treating you with so much care, like you were fragile glass. He called out to you, trying to break through the mental barriers that clouded your mind.

“Look at me!” Grasping your wrists and pinning them down, he stared directly into your eyes. “I know you’re in there, ok? It’s Leon!”

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he continued, even though you were thrashing about wildly, growling at him like an untamed beast.

He pleaded with you to stop, unable to bring himself to take any drastic measures. He wouldn't know how to forgive himself if he did. “You don’t have to do this.”

The sound of a slow clap reverberated against the walls, as Silje emerged from the shadows. “Oh, don’t you enjoy a good show?”

“Silje…” Leon hissed threateningly.

“All bark and no bite, just like back then.” A cruel smile spread across her face. “Tell me, how is it like watching someone you love harbor nothing but hatred towards you?”

“Shut the fuck up!” He spat, his eyes igniting with a fierce blaze of anger.

At that point, she removed her sunglasses leisurely, flaunting the monstrous yellow of her irises like glowing embers. Her teeth grew razor sharp and you saw her arms blackened like soot as she peeled off her gloves. Things were about to get really bad if you couldn’t get a hang of yourself.

His gaze shifted uneasily between you and Silje, as a storm of inner conflict visibly brewed within him. You still had the strong impulse to lacerate him with his knife, but you resisted a bit more each time, and your efforts seemed to be paying off slightly. It emboldened you to devise a plan spontaneously as you worked to regain control.

Through an enormous amount of sheer willpower, you croaked, “Leon, let go.”

He gave you a look of skepticism, but ultimately decided to trust you. His grip on your wrists loosened as you fought with all your might against the brainwashing influence. As you felt the familiar pull of Beatrice on your right arm, you braced yourself for what would come next. When she attempted to swing it at Leon, you used the momentum to twist your body in its direction, causing the knife to plunge into your left shoulder instead. You howled in agony, as you leaned against the wall and slid down, leaving behind a sanguine trail.

“Don’t!” You shook your head furiously when Leon stepped towards you.

He locked eyes with you, his expression suffused with worry and distress, underscoring his reluctance to leave you alone. However, he understood that you had incapacitated yourself to aid him, and he knew he didn’t have a choice. You pulled out the knife with a stifled whimper, chucking it to the floor as more blood rushed out of you.

“Remarkable,” Silje commented, intrigued by the outcome of your fight with Leon. “Already showcasing fragments of autonomy.”

Though it wasn’t long before she focused her attention on Leon, emitting a guttural snarl, “Looks like I’ll have to take care of you myself!”

She charged towards him, stretching out her hands which had extended into spiked claws, as he dodged out of the way. Unleashing a barrage of bullets on her with his compact submachine gun to allow himself some breathing space, he circled around her back. Whipping out his shotgun, he fired at her a couple of times from point-blank range until he had to take cover to reload his weapon.

Although she was staggered, the bullets seemed to have no real effect on her. Each shot antagonized her even more instead, eventually resulting in ghastly mutations which developed across her body. The parts of her which were riddled with bullets turned into ulcerated sores, with coal black ooze dripping out of them. Her form swelled, towering over Leon and reducing him to the scale of a tiny ant in comparison. Just like the girls in stasis pods, Silje was covered in dark sludge and her limbs were affixed to random places at varying angles. Her large, feral eyes pierced the room, reddened with rage and loathing.

“You think you can get rid of me so easily?” Her speech took on a demonic tone, dropping an octave lower.

“I’ll teach you how to stay down in the first place,” he quipped, undeterred, as he raised his handgun, aiming it specifically at one of her eyes before firing a volley of shots that tore through the space.

She roared, swiping at him with her limbs, as he rolled to the side to evade her attacks. Her movements were slower now, but she could easily trample him in one go. Pieces of equipment, metal and brick hurtled through the air as they clashed with unbridled ferocity. His training took over, dealing in quick strikes whenever there was an opening, and outmaneuvering her with grace. But it wasn’t sufficient to take her down. Despite his relentless determination and skill, Leon was still human. His concentration was waning and his body was beginning to be pushed to its limits.

When he miscalculated his next move, Silje’s claws closed around him and with a surge of brute strength, flung him across the room savagely. Sparks erupted as he collided with the monitor screens, leaving shards of glass and stray wires scattered at his feet. He groaned, coughing out blood as he worked to lift himself up.

“Not good enough,” she taunted. “You’ll never have her. She’s mine!”

Gnashing her fangs ominously, sickly drool leaked from them, as she slithered over to him, ready to rip his flesh apart and devour his organs.

“Silje, wait! Take me,” you cried. “Just spare him, please!”

She paused, considering your words. However, she was abruptly interrupted by a distant crack, as a sniper shot found its mark in the middle of her head with lethal precision. The projectile burrowed deep into her tissue, stunning her temporarily.

From afar, you spotted the same enigmatic woman in red you encountered a day ago. The sole blemish on her otherwise pristine appearance was a tourniquet bound tightly around her thigh. Without a minute to waste, Ada tossed over a syringe to Leon, instructing, “Use this serum on her!” She sped over to another vantage point. “I’ll cover you!”

Based on their team dynamics, it seemed like they had done this before in the past. You began to understand that Ada cared for him, just like you did, even though on the surface, they appeared to stand on opposite ends of the moral compass.

Ada continued to mark her target, as Leon attempted to draw closer to Silje, weaving his way through her elongated limbs which sought to crush him. Meanwhile, you recognized Beatrice’s hold on you intensifying. She was scared and you could feel it. Afraid of being destroyed, wiped off the face of the earth, with no memory of her existence left behind. She wanted them to stop, and in turn, behaved erratically, hoping to bend them to her will.

Immediately, your body flopped onto the ground and you started to convulse violently. Ebony liquid poured out profusely from your eyes, nose and mouth, as you gurgled and choked. You were suffocating on your own vomit as it filled your lungs and led you towards a slow, harrowing death.

That was more than enough to cause a distraction. Leon froze on the spot, alarmed, his eyes were brimming with pure panic. Seconds ticked away as he weighed his options. Then, he remembered. “The fail-safe!” He shouted at Ada. “It’s labeled in red!”

“But-”

“Hurry!” He hollered again, with a heightened sense of urgency, as he ducked under a structure to avoid Silje’s grasp.

Ada’s mouth twitched in displeasure, but she nodded in response before bolting towards the rows of trays in the laboratory.

It felt like an eternity of torment as the light began to fade from your vision. Was this what it was like to die? Dissolving into the ether. Everything was so cold and empty. No one would remember you. You were nothing…

Until your body jolted back to life as you gasped for breath, coughing up the remnants of the murky fluids onto the ground. You felt blood rushing to your eardrums and your lungs were on fire, as you struggled to draw in more oxygen.

From your viewpoint, you witnessed Ada holding a canister of the toxins that were meant to neutralize each batch of bioweapons. As she pumped them into the stasis pods, you heard the shrieks coming from the young girls who erupted into an inky, molten state. It felt like a part of you had been torn asunder, as your connection with Beatrice was severed.

An ear-splitting scream of anguish broke out from the other end of the room. Leon had climbed on top of Silje, seizing her head with his hand and promptly injected the serum into her. You observed her steady transformation with a heavy heart, as her body started to calcify from bottom-up, its surface hardening into an impenetrable layer.

As she gradually succumbed to the petrification, her mouth gaped open and closed like a fish on its last breath. A shadow of sorrow swept across her face as her final words tumbled out, “My child, why…”

Leon leaped away from her statue, nearly stumbling in a state of exhaustion, as he exhaled a pronounced sigh of relief. He walked briskly over to you, while Ada joined him, lugging a metallic briefcase with a sultry saunter as her heels clacked purposefully on the floor.

You were weak and faint from the massive loss of blood, which was still flowing down in rivulets from your punctured wound, soaking your clothes in a bright crimson. When Leon took in the sight of your pale, ashen complexion, it didn’t matter how hard he tried to hide the fear in his eyes. You noticed it as clear as day, but you were too tired to speak.

Hastily, he ripped out a piece of fabric from his shirt, using the cloth as a makeshift bandage around your wound and applying pressure on it to stem the flow.

“She’s not looking so good,” Ada warned. “Better get a move on.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he retorted defensively.

“Here.” She pulled out another syringe of the serum from her briefcase, extending it to him. “It cures the infected,” she explained. “The girl’s not as far gone as Silje, so it might work as intended for her.”

He regarded Ada with apprehension, as though he had been bitten one too many times. “What’s the catch?”

“Hm.” She smirked. “Glad you asked.”

Holding up a cylindrical container she had swiped from the laboratory earlier, she admired the Stygian, putrid substance encased within it. “I’m taking a sample of the mold and the necessary research files, but I’m sure you don’t mind, do you?”

Leon narrowed his eyes at her, pursing his lips in disappointment. “Of course, why would I have expected anything less?”

“We have a deal then?” She pressed.

He glanced back at you, taking a moment to stroke your cheek in reassurance. Then, he turned to her, scowling, as he confirmed his acceptance. “Fine.”

Giving him a weary, lopsided smile, Ada handed over the serum and proceeded to download the information she needed from the computer systems in the vicinity onto her hard drive.

“She must be special,” Ada remarked, with a tinge of melancholy. “Take care of her,” she added, nodding towards you as a sign of acknowledgment.

You held her gaze briefly, and even though you could barely respond, it seemed as if both of you had come to a mutual understanding.

“Good luck, Leon,” she muttered, before taking her leave and disappearing without a trace.

There was a quiet stillness as Leon placed the syringe against your arm. “You’re gonna be ok,” he comforted you, kissing your forehead softly. “I promise.”

You felt the prick of the needle going through your skin as he administered the serum. A glacial chill crept through your veins, as though each droplet of blood was being encased in ice. You trembled uncontrollably, but he held onto you staunchly, refusing to let you go as he begged you repeatedly to answer him.

You couldn’t. Like sand through his fingers, you slipped away into unconsciousness.

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