#Maybe my mask... kept me from seeing just how strong you really are...

[demie90s]

All Dogs Go To Heaven

(Please Read Warning)

UConn!Team x Senior!Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: She gave everything. Played through the heartbreak, the silence, the emptiness. Just to finish what she started.

Genre: Angst | Drama | Emotional Slow Burn

Warnings: Reader Passing On. Mental health themes, emotional withdrawal, ambiguous ending, implied depression, silent departure, strong emotional undertones

Word Count ~ 3.7k

My senior year started with a funeral. Not a literal one—nobody died. But something in me did. Quietly. Without ceremony. I remember waking up that first morning back on campus with my mouth dry, my eyes burning, and this hollow throb in my chest like I’d been grieving something all night in my sleep. And I didn’t know what for. Or maybe I did. I just didn’t want to say it. That I was tired. That I didn’t want to be here. That I was already counting the days until the season ended so I could stop pretending I was okay.

I brushed my teeth like a robot. Washed my face even though I didn’t look in the mirror. Couldn’t. I didn’t like the eyes staring back anymore. She looked like me but off—too still, too heavy, too drained. I pulled on my UConn hoodie, tied my shoes, forced down a granola bar I could barely taste, and walked to practice like I didn’t just want to curl up under the covers and never come out again.

I was a Husky. A captain. The example. So I played the part. Every damn day. Early to film. First on the court. Last to leave. Took charges. Dived for loose balls. Clapped loud. Smiled harder. I told myself if I could just keep up the act, it would become real again. That I’d eventually feel like myself. That I’d wake up one day and the emptiness would be gone. But it never was. And every day it got a little heavier.

Nobody noticed. I mean, why would they? I made sure they didn’t. I was so good at hiding it I started to forget where the lie ended and I began. The girls would joke in the locker room, laugh so loud the walls shook. I laughed too. Loudest of all. I cracked jokes. Pulled pranks. Learned how to change the subject when anyone got too close. You good? Always. You look tired. Long night watching film. You sure? Always.

Some days I showered twice just so I could cry without getting caught. Let the water mask the sobs, let the steam blur my face. I’d sit on the floor until my skin went numb and my fingers pruned. I’d come out smiling. Towel over my head. “Damn, girl, you were in there forever!” Yeah. Sorry. My bad. I just like the heat. I’m always cold.

But the truth is I hadn’t felt warm in months.

Classes were a blur. I stopped raising my hand. Stopped taking notes. Stopped showing up unless I had to. But my professors didn’t say anything—student-athletes get passes. Coaches vouched. Tutors covered. I was barely present. My thoughts kept wandering off to scary places. Like what it’d be like to just stop. To disappear. To vanish without making it anyone’s fault but mine.

I journaled in secret. Wrote letters I never meant to send. Some to the girls. Some to coach. Some to my mom. Some to myself. They all said the same thing in different words. I love you. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to blame yourselves. I’m just tired. I tried. I really did. One time I wrote twenty-seven pages without looking up. My hand cramped. I didn’t feel it.

People praised my composure. Commentators talked about my focus. My poise. My maturity. Geno called me the rock of the team. Said I kept everyone steady. But they didn’t see me walking back to my dorm after practice, taking the long way just so I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone. They didn’t see the way I kept my lights off when I got home. The way my phone stayed face down, unanswered. The way I sometimes sat on the floor by my bed just staring at nothing.

I stopped going home on weekends. Told my mom I had team stuff. Told my little brother I was too tired to FaceTime. Told my best friend from back home that I was “just busy.” I wasn’t. I just didn’t want anyone to see me like this. Didn’t want to explain what I couldn’t name. I kept thinking—if I can just make it to the end of the season, I’ll be fine. If I can just stick it out, I’ll get to walk away quietly.

It was like I was leaking—bit by bit, drop by drop—but I smiled through it. Nobody ever checks on the strong one. Nobody checks on the captain. I think that’s what really got to me. That I could be dying right in front of them and they’d still ask me to lead warmups.

But I didn’t blame them. I blamed me.

Because I let it get this far. Because I never said anything. Because I thought needing help meant I wasn’t strong enough to wear the jersey. Because I thought if I admitted it out loud, they’d look at me different. Like I was cracked. Weak. Like I didn’t deserve to be here.

So I held it. Every ache. Every scream. Every tear I didn’t let fall. I held it all.

And every day, it got harder to carry.

We made it to March. Barely.

My body hurt in places I stopped naming months ago. My knees screamed every time I sat, every time I got up, but I smiled through it like always. “You good?” someone asked while I limped toward the bus. “Yeah,” I grinned, “just old.” I wasn’t. I was twenty-two. But I felt ancient. Heavy. Like I’d lived three lives in this one season.

That morning, I woke up before the alarm. I laid there in the dark, flat on my back, staring at the ceiling like maybe it would crack open and swallow me whole. I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t even sad anymore. I was quiet. Numb. Not because I didn’t care—but because I had nothing left in me to give. This was it. The last game. The last promise I made myself: Make it through the season. Don’t quit. Don’t ruin it for everyone else.

So I got up. I brushed my teeth. Taped my ankles. Braided my hair tight, so it wouldn’t fall out of the bun mid-game like it always did. Slipped on my jersey like it meant something. Let the trainer crack my back like we weren’t both pretending I was okay. Put my headphones on. Looked in the mirror.

Smiled.

We played our hearts out. I played like I had nothing left to lose because I didn’t. Four quarters of grit. Of breathless sprints and aching legs and a throat raw from calling switches and picks. I shot until my arms burned. I bled—literally—elbow to the floor, skin split open, and I didn’t even flinch. Someone handed me a towel. I wiped it off like it was sweat. Tossed it. Kept going.

The crowd was loud. But I couldn’t hear them. Everything around me felt distant. Fuzzy. Like I was moving underwater. Like I was already fading.

We lost by four.

That’s the part nobody saw coming. UConn doesn’t lose in March. Not like that. Not with me. I was supposed to be the one to carry us through. I was supposed to be the one to leave with a net around my neck, confetti in my hair, and the W etched in my last chapter.

Instead, I walked off the court in silence. The buzzer still ringing in my bones. Hands on my hips. Staring at the scoreboard like if I looked hard enough, the numbers would change. They didn’t.

We lined up. Shook hands. Posed for cameras with hollow eyes. Someone shoved a mic in my face.

“How do you feel?”

And I smiled.

I fucking smiled.

Because what else was I supposed to do?

“I’m just happy,” I said. Like I wasn’t dying inside. Like that hadn’t been the last thread. Like I hadn’t just crossed the finish line of something I never wanted to start in the first place. My voice was steady. My eyes were dry. I had practiced this. Knew how to keep my chin up. Knew how to say what they needed to hear.

Then I walked to the locker room. Peeled off my jersey like I was taking off a costume. Took one last look at my name on the tag. Folded it. Placed it on the bench. Sat there in silence while the girls cried, while the cameras waited outside, while the season collapsed around us.

I didn’t say much.

Told them I was proud. Told them I loved them. Told Coach thank you. Hugged him a little too long, but he didn’t notice. Told my roommate I’d see her back at the dorm. I wouldn’t.

That night, I went home. Quietly. No fanfare. I skipped the team dinner. Said I was tired. Nobody pushed. I got in the Uber. Played music that didn’t sound like anything. Kept the window cracked.

When I got back to my dorm, I sat on the edge of the bed, still in my warmup pants. Took my shoes off. One by one. My socks were damp. I didn’t care. I didn’t even move.

I didn’t sleep that night.

I wrote, and wrote, and wrote—my hands cramped, my eyes burned, my heart… numb. But even then, I couldn’t bring myself to just go. Not yet. Not without saying goodbye, even if I couldn’t say the real thing out loud.

So I got up before sunrise.

Put on the gray UConn hoodie I wore my freshman year. Pulled the drawstrings tight so no one could really see my face. No makeup. No jewelry. Just me. Plain. Small. Already fading.

I had places to be.

I started with Caroline. She was always up early, always reading outside her dorm with her AirPods in. I found her exactly where I knew she’d be—on that little bench near the north quad, still in her bonnet, legs tucked under her hoodie. I didn’t say anything. Just walked up, held out my arms. She didn’t ask why. She just stood up and hugged me back. Tightly.

“You okay?” she whispered.

I nodded. “Just needed a hug.”

I left before she could say anything else.

KK was in the study hall, earbuds in, muttering lines under her breath for her speech class. She looked surprised to see me. “Girl, what you doing here this early?” she laughed.

I sat next to her. Leaned my head on her shoulder for a second. “I missed you.”

“Missed me?” she scoffed. “You saw me yesterday.”

“I know,” I said, “but still.”

I hugged her. Long. She held on tighter than I expected.

“You good?” she asked, and I smiled.

“Always.”

I knocked on Aubrey’s door around 8:15. She opened in a bonnet and a tank top, face all soft from sleep. “What’s wrong?” she said immediately, rubbing her eyes.

I shook my head. “Nothing. I just wanted to tell you I love you.”

That got her. Her face crumpled for a second like she didn’t know what to do with it. Then she hugged me like her arms could fix whatever was broken inside me. I let her. I let all of them.

I passed by Ice in the hallway and caught her off guard. “Yo,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“Just come here.”

She didn’t ask again. We hugged in the middle of the hallway while people passed us, laughing, yelling, dragging backpacks. None of it touched me.

I went to Coach Geno’s office last. It was empty at first, but the door was unlocked like always. I sat in the chair I always used, the cushion still indented with my weight. I looked around at the old pictures on the wall, the signed balls, the framed newspaper clippings. He’d given his life to this place. So had I.

He walked in ten minutes later, surprised but not suspicious.

“Hey, kid,” he said, sitting across from me. “You didn’t have to come in today. I figured you’d be wiped.”

I nodded. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

He blinked, then frowned. “For what?”

“For believing in me. Even when I didn’t.”

He stared at me for a beat. “You sure you’re alright?”

I smiled again. The same tired, practiced one. “I’m always alright, Coach.”

He didn’t believe me. I could see it in his eyes. But he didn’t push.

I hugged him before I left. And I meant it. That hug was real.

I went back to my dorm one last time. Placed the letters neatly. Labels written in all caps, taped to the front. One on each bed. One slid under each door. Geno’s I left on his desk. The janitor’s I taped to the vending machine.

Then I sat on the floor by my bed, where the carpet was worn and the wall was cold. I curled up small. I held the last note against my chest.

And I closed my eyes. But I didn’t stay. Because the thought of them finding me like that? My girls?

Seeing me on the floor, cold and gone, nothing left but letters and a limp hoodie?

That shit made me sick.

I knew what it would do to Caroline. She’s sensitive, she pretends she’s not. She’d walk in joking and find me and never be the same. Azzi would blame herself. She already does—for stuff that ain’t hers. And Coach? Coach would sit with it like it was his failure. Replay every practice. Every timeout. Try to find where he went wrong.

No. I couldn’t do that to them.

I got up. Shaking. Heart pounding. That kind of panic that flutters in your chest like a trapped bird. My fingers were ice. I grabbed the notes. All of them. Threw them in my backpack. Slipped on slides. Didn’t even change.

I walked right out the dorm at 2:04 AM. Didn’t look back. Got in my car. Started driving.

Didn’t know where I was going. Didn’t care. I just needed to be far. I needed the trees to look different. I needed the sky to shift. I needed miles between me and that locker room. Me and that gym. Me and those people who loved me so hard I forgot how to hold it.

At first, I told myself I’d come back. That I just needed air. A weekend. A reset. That I’d find a quiet place, sleep, maybe cry. Then drive home and say, my bad, I just needed space.

But the farther I drove, the quieter everything got.

By sunrise, I’d crossed state lines. Somewhere in Pennsylvania. Mist rolling low over the hills. Fog coating the windshield. My eyes felt dry but heavy. My body was on autopilot. The world was still. Still in a way I hadn’t been in months. Maybe years.

I didn’t play music. Just let the tires hum and the wind rush. My phone buzzed. Once. Then again. Group chat. I didn’t check it. Didn’t want to.

I stopped at a gas station around 11. Got coffee. Black. Hot. I sipped it like it would fix something. Wrote another note on the back of a receipt with a pen from my glove box.

“It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. I just didn’t want to make it yours.”

Tucked it in my pocket like maybe someone would find it one day. I kept driving. Three states. Eight hours. Ten gas stations.

I pulled over at a rest stop once and just… screamed.

Loud. Ugly. Guttural.

No one heard. Nobody cared.

And that made it easier.

At some point, I ended up by the water. Not sure where. Lake? Ocean? Didn’t matter. Just wide and endless and blue. I parked the car. Took off my shoes. Walked to the edge and sat in the sand. Let the wind burn my cheeks.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t some movie moment.

It was just… quiet. The kind of quiet I’d been begging for since October. No plays to memorize. No weights at six. No eyes on me. Just me and the sky. Me and the ache.

I curled up in the front seat that night. Hugged my knees. Let the letters stay in the back seat like ghosts. Staring.

I didn’t cry. I’d already used every tear.

I just whispered, “I’m sorry.”

To nobody.

To everybody.

To myself.

They said it took two days before someone noticed I was gone. Not panicked. Just noticed. I’d already stopped showing up to class here and there. Said I needed to rest my knees. Said I was catching up on work. Said a lot of things.

But I was consistent with love.

That’s what made them worry. When I didn’t send a dumb meme to the group chat. When I didn’t like Paige’s story. When I didn’t repost the highlight. When I didn’t show up to lift. That’s what cracked something open in them.

Azzi knocked first. Said she stood at my door with her forehead against the frame for a long time before she opened it. Said the air in the room felt still. Too still. Like it had been holding its breath.

My bed was made. Lights off. Drawers mostly empty. And the letters—stacked neatly on the desk. Names written in black Sharpie. In my handwriting.

There were fifteen.

⸻

To Caroline

She read hers in the stairwell. Alone. She read it once, then again, then dropped it. It fluttered down three steps before she scrambled after it, breathless. Shaking.

“I used to watch how soft you were with everyone and wish I could be that brave. Thank you for making this place warmer. I don’t know if you ever noticed, but every time you hugged me, I held on longer than I should’ve. I needed that. You were my safe place.”

She cried for hours.

She called her mom and said she didn’t know how to live with the fact that someone had died needing her and she hadn’t even noticed.

⸻

To Coach Geno

They said he read it once, then locked his door and didn’t come out until morning.

“You gave me purpose when I was breaking. You demanded more from me when all I wanted to do was disappear. I used to think you saw something in me that wasn’t really there, but now I realize you just saw me whole—before I started falling apart. Thank you for letting me feel like I mattered. I’m sorry I couldn’t keep being your example.”

He didn’t talk much after that. He didn’t yell at practice. Didn’t say her name, either.

Just kept a folded piece of paper in his wallet and touched it during timeouts.

⸻

To Azzi

She didn’t read hers right away. Held it like it was going to shatter. Like it was alive and breathing and bleeding. When she finally opened it, she curled up in a ball on her bed and rocked herself.

“You always asked how I was. And I always lied. I’m sorry for that. I didn’t want you to carry me. You already carry so much. I loved watching you play. You made the court feel like a sanctuary. Like church. And when I didn’t believe in much anymore, I still believed in you.”

Azzi didn’t sleep for days. Her roommate said she started wearing her hoodie like armor. Said she only spoke when she had to. Said she took a walk every night to the bench outside the gym and just sat there, clutching the letter to her chest like prayer.

⸻

To Paige

She opened hers in the hallway. Leaned against the vending machine. Didn’t speak for ten minutes.

“I think if I had told anyone, it would’ve been you. But I didn’t. And that’s not your fault. You were sunshine to me. That sharp kind of light that stings when you’ve been in the dark too long. I loved you. In my own quiet way. I hope you felt it, even if I never said it.”

She didn’t cry in public. But people said they could hear her throwing up in the locker room after. Said she punched the mirror in the bathroom.

Said her hand was bleeding for an hour before she let the trainer see.

⸻

To the janitor, Mr. Elroy

The note was simple.

“Thank you for always waving. For saying ‘Hey champ’ even when I didn’t win. That meant more than you’ll ever know.”

He kept it folded in his back pocket. Every day. Still says hey champ when he turns the hallway corner, even if no one’s there.

⸻

To Me (To Herself)

They found this one last. Folded in a notebook. Scrawled across both sides of the paper.

“You made it. I know you’re scared. I know you don’t think this is brave. But you tried. God, you tried. For so long. Longer than anyone knows. You carried silence like it was your jersey number. You smiled with a breaking jaw. And I’m proud of you. I love you. Even if they never understand why, I understand. I forgive you. Rest, baby girl. You did good.”

The trainer framed it.

Hung it in the player’s lounge.

Didn’t ask for permission.

Said it was hers now too.

⸻

They held a vigil. Lit candles. Hung her jersey over the railing.

Sat in silence for nine minutes and thirty-three seconds—one for every win that season. No one spoke.

Then Caroline stood up and said:

“She wasn’t loud. But she mattered. She mattered so fucking much.”

⸻

When they play that final clip now— That last three-pointer. That last smile.

That moment when the mic picked up her voice and she said “I’m just happy”—

Nobody believes it anymore. But they keep playing it anyway. Because it’s all they have left. And because somewhere deep down, they wish it had been true.

Heaven. I don’t know if I’ll move on from here. Don’t know if I want to. I like the stillness. I like the echoes of their love. But if I had one wish—just one—it wouldn’t be to go back.

It would be to hold them one more time. To tell them I didn’t leave because they failed me.

I left because I didn’t know how to ask them to stay.

Now I stay in the light. Now I rest. And when they say my name in the gym, in the huddle, in the silence— I’m there.

I’m always there. Because all dogs go to heaven.

And I was a Husky.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog @kaliblazin @liloandstitchstan

[5eraphim]

Okay so this has been stuck in my head for WEEKS and I finally decided to stop bein scared and ask you to write about it lol

So as a DBD player, I got to thinking that it would be kinda cool if survivors could fight the killer even if it was just once per round and then this scenario popped into my head.

How would Killer react to Survivor!Reader biting them as a defense/distraction/etc? My favs are The Shape, The Executioner, and The Mastermind! Headcannons would be amazing but if you could maybe branch out to make one a one-shot kinda deal? Maybe NSFW if you feel spicy?

P.S your writing and fics LITERALLY give me life YOU’RE SO GOOD 😭🧡

My deepest apologies for how long this has been rotting in my inbox, I thought this prompt was a lot of fun, and again, I'm sorry it took forever for me to get around to answering this. Hope you enjoy all the same!

Characters: Michael Meyers, Albert Wesker, Pyramid Head (Dead By Daylight)

Rating: R (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, GO PLAY OUTSIDE!!)

Content Warnings: Yandere, smut, noncon, stalking, choking, violence, sacrificed to the entity, predator/prey dynamics, obsession, sadism and masochism, reader is kept gender neutral

Word Count: 1.6k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

The Shape

It's almost too predictable for a killer like Michael Myers to wind up in a situation like this. As the survivor he brought with him into the entity's realm made physical payback, her signature, Micheal can't help but attract the "feisty" type.

A man hiding behind a mask, Michael competes with fierce determination and an almost primal compulsion to hunt, stalk, and slaughter like no other. Of the three, Myers would be the most likely to anticipate physical retribution from a survivor, according to him, all part of the hunt. 

Myers prefers to remain hidden by shadows as long as possible, awaiting his perfect opportunity to go in for a decisive kill. But remaining hidden in the dark is a luxury you don't have at your disposal on account of being Myer's obsession.

You didn't want it to come to this. Even before the match started, you prayed to fight any killer, but Myers, your disappointment only grew as you realized minutes later that you were his obsession.

The idea of fighting back physically was a spur-of-the-moment decision; you knew you only had one chance of pulling this off, and if you missed, your fate would be sealed. You usually weren't one to opt for such a risky strategy, but you were too blinded by your fear of Myers. You would do anything to get away.

Even though you couldn't see him, you could feel Myers' eyes locked in on you, no doubt following and trailing you from behind. The paranoia was torture, but you forced yourself to stay strong and ignore Myers, to focus solely on supporting your team. 

When Myers inevitably tracked you down and caught you after getting distracted by something else, you had so much pent-up nervous aggression that you couldn't hold back your body's instinct to fight back.

Fear overtook any lingering traces of rationality as you struggled blindly against Myers, but you had just enough determination reserved to take aim and fire a single punch, aiming for his head, landing against the cheek of the mask; it was just enough to disorient him long enough for you to wriggle free.

Despite the offense, Myers didn't think you had it in you to fight back like that. It excited him! As though you were holding back on him before, and now you were starting to fight back like you really meant it!

After enduring the pressure of being his obsession and succumbing to the fear of it all, you little humanity left to hold onto, almost nothing but your primal fight or flight instincts; it was truly a beautiful sight for him to behold.

The next time he cornered you, Myers decided he ought to follow your lead, only instead of going for your head, he would go for your throat, not with the knife, but with his hand.

And for just a moment, he'd keep you there. Only needing one hand around your throat to keep your entire body pinned into place on the wall behind you. Wood planks made contact with your back at odd angles, the dull pain radiating up and down your spine as you were face to face with Myers, close enough to hear his breathing behind the mask while he observed your face- knowing you believed he was seconds away from slitting your throat. 

Likely, as Myers holds you in such a compromising position, he takes out all his own pent-up frustrations on you. Leaving bitemarks all over your neck and shoulders while he quickly shreds the clothes from your body.

Just as you gave into primal fight-or-flight instincts, he was giving into his own primal urges. He'd won the hunt, and now it was time to let his libido take charge. Half-undressed, he ruts against you, and you can hear his heartbeat racing. Maybe even feel his body warming as his blood flows rapidly, but he remains as silent as a corpse.

After having his fun, Myers will take great pleasure in sacrificing you to the entity. Even if he couldn't take down everyone on your team before this, the opportunity to sacrifice his obsession in such a thrilling bloodbath overshadowed any regular trial as a ruthless killer. 

The Mastermind

It wouldn't take more than an instance of fighting back physically against him for Wesker to decide to hunt you down right away. He would've never suspected another survivor would be bold enough to try something like this on him. Wesker wants to know what makes you think you're strong enough to try something like this.

His reaction would be determined primarily by what point in the trial you try this.

Albert might think it's insufficient enough to ignore if it's early or if he's doing well.

But given how infamous of a hothead he can be, more often than not, any time you try this, expect to be met with hostility.

Wants to see you go from physically resistant to begging him for mercy. On the outside, he pretends to see brats like you as nothing but a petty annoyance to be dealt with, but on the inside, he absolutely loves doing this; keeping the weak in check is how he stays strong.

Wesker doesn't exactly get any legitimate pleasure from being hurt, but he will tap into the pain when fighting back. He does this partly out of loyalty and obligation to the entity but equally out of a petty vengeance to hurt you back twice as hard as you hurt him.

Wesker waits patiently before fighting back, taking care of those annoying teammates first to give you his undivided attention. As well as strategically lying in wait after the confrontation before striking while your guard is down. 

The very first thing Wesker does after tracking you down is wounding you exactly where you hurt him, though he's sure not to let you go until he's drawn blood.

Don't expect him to show you any mercy from here. Might go as far as pushing you down, wiping his shoes against your back as you writhe below, trying to squirm out from under his boot.

It's good foreplay for him, seeing the foolish survivor who dared to fight back, bleeding and barely alive. He won't fuck you in the muck for his own sake, of course. Wesker will push you up against a wall face first while he is taking you from behind.

If he's feeling especially good after sweeping a trial, he might leave you with just enough life to hold onto while you crawl to the hatch. More likely, you won't live long after such a brutal session. But even if you don't die, Wesker will be sure to leave you so beaten and tormented you'll regret trying to fight him like that and won't want to try again. Even if Wesker secretly hopes you will.

The Executioner

While the others welcome the resistance, even if only to crush it, Pyramid Head would likely resent you for trying to physically challenge the killer and disrupt the natural order of things. It was an injustice, and it was imperative to punish you for this.

Imagine playing as a "Gen-Jockey" survivor, the kind of teammate who provides the bare minimum to the rest of the team, putting your own survival above the lives of your teammates, the type of survivor Pyramid Head hated the most. A coward.

All that to say, it was an extreme shock after he cornered you and felt your teeth sinking into the exposed flesh above his glove. 

While you were combative and aggressive now, Pyramid Head knew you couldn't keep this up forever. You were, to him, nothing but a coward deep down. Even if you wanted to pretend like you had any real fight of your own, it wouldn't be long before you surrendered to your own exhaustion. Perhaps he was even doing this as his way of offering you a "fair shot" to find your way out before he got his hands on you. Like he would ever let that happen.

Since you tried to bite him earlier, he'd punish you by fucking you from behind, bent over a broken desk crushing your face against the hardwood surface. He was an inescapable force while you were powerless to stop any of this from below.

Would only give into his beastial nature to hurt and fuck you if he's already managed to kill the rest of your team. It's not his style to slaughter his obsession until he's taken care of the others, and he doesn't want to let anyone pass by without judgment.

If he doesn't get this opportunity during the trial, Pyramid Head will fantasize about killing you off last while staying buried inside you, feeling your pathetic body crumbling and going limp beneath him.

Paradoxical feelings of sadism and protectiveness for you as Pyramid Head is obsessed with being the only one alloweed to hurt you, judge your soul, or torture you. But all this cruelty is undermined by his motivation to keep you from getting hurt by others.

He is most likely to let you live after making love because the instant gratification of an orgasm, as well as the satisfaction of punishing you himself, will keep him from sending you up to the entity. 

Consider this Pyramid Head's very niche kind of post-nut clarity.

[ceyanabbiolo]

CONTRACT // C.S [21]

Summary: Christopher Sturniolo, a 26-year-old billionaire CEO, agrees to a strategic marriage with Aurora Devereaux, the 21-year-old daughter of his rival, to save his company during a crisis. Raised in a cold, arrogant environment, Chris is used to control and detachment. Aurora, a final-year fashion student, is forced into the arrangement by her powerful father and struggles with the fear of losing herself. As the two navigate their unexpected marriage, they begin to confront emotional walls and develop a connection that challenges everything they thought they knew about love and trust. But with their families’ influence looming, will their bond be strong enough to survive—or will it fall apart?

Warnings: angst, crying, longing, kissing.

wc: 5769

Chapter 21: The Look Of Love

By the end of April, I was alright. Not great, not whole—but alright. I was moving through the days with a quiet steadiness, finally breathing without everything hurting.

I had my routines, my shopping days, my little walks through the city with earbuds in and my bag slung over my shoulder. I was letting time do what it does best—soften the sharp edges of everything.

Then came the trial.

Going to my father’s hearing was something I had tried to mentally prepare for, but nothing quite readied me for seeing him again. He looked thinner. His suit hung loosely on him, and his hair was grayer than I remembered. What unsettled me most wasn’t his appearance—it was how unaffected he looked. His face was stiff, cold, the same expressionless mask he’d worn my whole life. 

There was no remorse in his eyes. No guilt. Just silence, like he was still clinging to the control he’d always demanded.

Chris was there, too. I saw him the moment I walked in, standing off to the side in a dark coat, hands in his pockets, jaw tight. But I didn’t acknowledge him. I stayed close to my mom and Jen the whole time. We sat in the second row, and when the sentence was read out—essentially life—I felt nothing. Not joy. Not relief. Just a hollow finality. Like turning the last page of a book I never wanted to read in the first place.

Even then, Chris kept looking at me.

But I didn’t look back. 

The first week of May, Darren and I went on our first real date. He took me to a retro arcade just outside the city—walls lined with flashing machines, the sound of buttons being mashed and 80s music playing in the background. It was relaxed, easy.

But even as I laughed and nudged him during a game of basketball shootout, there was a quiet truth settling in my chest—he felt more like a friend. The kind you could spend hours with and still not feel that ache in your ribs. There was no spark, not the kind that made your hands shake or your heart race.

Still, I let myself enjoy the night. Maybe friendship was enough. Maybe that’s all I could handle right now.

The more time I spent with Darren, the more I realized how different we really were. At first, I thought it was just surface-level—maybe different upbringings, different worlds. But it wasn’t that. Not really.

It was deeper than that. He saw things in a way I couldn’t quite align with. In small moments—in how he spoke about people, how he dismissed certain things I cared about, how quick he was to justify things that didn’t sit right with me—I started to notice cracks.

He didn’t necessarily mean harm, but there were times he just… lacked the same sense of accountability or empathy I held close. We weren’t raised differently—we just believed in different things. At our core, we just didn’t match.

By the end of May, the weather was getting hotter, marking the quiet shift from spring to summer. 

Everything was slowly falling back into place.

I was preparing for my fellowship, which I’d be leaving for in August—two months earlier than necessary. I wanted time to adjust to Paris before the program began. Besides, I didn’t have a reason to stay in Boston anymore. It felt like the right time to start living for myself.

My mother’s divorce was finally getting finalized next week. After everything he put her through, she was free. We both were. My father… well, he wasn’t just gone—he was gone for good. Sentenced to what was essentially life in prison. A certain ex-fiancée of mine made sure of it. It still felt surreal sometimes. Like I’d wake up and none of it had happened. Like I’d still hear his voice echoing in our house, calling for me like I was still some pawn in his perfect little empire. 

But he wasn’t coming back. Not this time.

Tonight, I was tucked away in a quiet corner of the city, sharing dinner with Darren. We’d gone on a few casual dates here and there, but this was our first real dinner—something that felt slightly more intentional.

It wasn’t anything serious. Not yet, at least. I was still a little slow to reply to his messages, often distracted or just too tired to make conversation. Luckily, Darren was swamped with work most of the time, so the pace didn’t seem to bother him. It worked for now—low effort, low expectations.

“So… you’re really leaving. In August,” Darren said as we lingered over the last bites of dinner, his voice quieter now.

I nodded, setting down my fork. “Yeah. I’m excited.”

He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s amazing, Aurora. Really. Paris is—well, it’s Paris.” He laughed softly. “I’m happy for you.”

I tilted my head. “You don’t sound that happy.”

He leaned back slightly, eyes flicking toward the window before settling back on me. “It’s not that I’m not happy for you. I am. I just…I was hoping you’d stay a little longer.”

A pause hung between us. I took a sip of my drink, my heart ticking a little faster.

“Why?” I asked, even though part of me already knew.

Darren’s gaze softened. “Because I was going to ask if you wanted to be my girlfriend.”

I blinked. The words sat in the space between us, simple and sincere.

He shrugged, trying to play it off. “I know the timing isn't great. And I know things have been casual. But I like you, Aurora. And I thought maybe we could see where this goes.”

I looked at him—really looked at him. 

But all I could feel was the weight of everything unsaid inside me. 

I stayed quiet, unsure how to answer him without leading him on—or hurting him. The pause stretched a little too long, thickening the air between us.

Darren looked at me, still hopeful, but his smile had faded slightly. 

“Aurora?” he asked again, softer this time. “Would you want to be my girlfriend?”

I looked away for a second, toward the small street outside the café where people walked past with gelato and shopping bags, where the world felt a little less complicated.

“I don’t know,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He exhaled—slowly. Not dramatic or annoyed, just…tired. 

“I figured,” he muttered with a small, dry laugh. “But I had to ask.”

The silence that followed wasn’t warm anymore. It was tense. Awkward. We both looked down at our plates, pretending to still be hungry. Neither of us moved.

Then, mercifully, the waiter came by with a polite smile. “Can I bring the bill over?”

“Yes, please,” Darren said before I could answer. “We’ll split it.”

I blinked, surprised.

Not because I couldn’t afford it—I could easily pay for the whole restaurant if I wanted to—but because I wasn’t used to it. I’d never split a bill before in my life.

Not even with the worst men I knew. Not even with my father, who made a habit of reminding me what I owed him, but never once let me reach for my card at dinner.

Something about it caught me off guard. Not in a spoiled way—just in a this-is-new kind of way. It felt like another small reminder that Darren and I were never going to see things quite the same.

I reached for my purse slowly, keeping my expression neutral.

“Thanks,” I said quietly, even though I didn’t really know what I was thanking him for.

He gave a quick nod, like he didn’t want to dwell on it either.

By the time we stepped outside, the warmth of the evening couldn’t quite thaw the distance between us.

Outside, the street was quieter than before. The buzz of the city had faded into softer echoes—dim headlights passing, the occasional laugh from a distant patio. The sky had turned that deep navy blue, the kind that makes everything feel lonelier than it is.

Darren pulled me into a hug. It was brief, one-armed, like something you’d give a friend you didn’t know how to say goodbye to.

“I’ll see you later,” he said as he pulled back.

I gave a small nod, still feeling the weight of the unspoken things between us. “Yeah. See you.”

Then he paused. “Do you have a ride home?”

I stared at him for a second, blinking. “Didn’t you…Pick me up?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding my eyes. “Yeah, I did. Sorry, I just—I’ve got an early morning and I figured you might have called someone or something.”

Excuse me? Who raised this guy? 

He picked me up. We drove here together, and now—what? I was supposed to just…figure it out?

“Right,” I said quietly, more to myself than to him. “I’ll get an Uber.”

Darren nodded like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Cool. Text me when you get home, yeah?”

Then he was already turning away, unlocking his car, slipping into the driver’s seat without a second glance.

I didn’t move. I just stood on the curb, staring after his car as it pulled off and disappeared around the corner.

Something about it sat wrong in my chest. Not because I couldn’t get home—had options. I could call a car in thirty seconds. I could call my driver. 

But it was the way he didn’t even offer. It was dark. Late. I was wearing heels. We had just finished a full dinner together. Somehow, I was suddenly just… someone to be dropped off emotionally and physically.

Not even dropped off. Left to drop myself off.

I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone, intending to order an Uber. But the screen stays stubbornly black.

I pressed the screen again—nothing.

My phone was dead.

Of course.

I stared at it, frustration rising. No way to call, no way to text, no way to get an Uber.

The street was quiet, dimly lit by flickering streetlights. The night suddenly felt colder, lonelier.

Help me. Anyone. 

I stared down at my dead phone like it had betrayed me. No texts, no calls, no Uber. Just silence.

Darren was gone. The street was mostly empty, and I was alone. Just cars, no people on the sidewalk.

I looked around, hoping maybe, by some miracle, there’d be a cab nearby. Nothing. Not even a soul walking past. 

I tightened my coat around myself and glanced down the sidewalk, exhaling slowly. I wasn’t going to lie, I was slightly scared. I wouldn’t say Boston was safe at night. 

I didn’t live far. Maybe…two hours on foot. 

I wanted to cry. 

It was late, and dark, and I was in heels, but I didn’t really have a choice.

So I started walking.

The city looked different when you weren’t looking at it from a window or a car. It felt bigger. The shadows stretched longer. My footsteps echoed on the pavement louder than they should have. I kept my head down, my bag clenched tightly to my side.

Every sound made me flinch just slightly—a car door, a siren in the distance, someone laughing too far away to be comforting.

I was halfway down the block when headlights swung around the corner behind me. I instinctively stepped to the side, hugging the edge of the sidewalk.

The car slowed.

I didn’t look back.

But I heard the window roll down.

“Aurora?”

I froze.

That voice.

I turned slowly, blinking against the lights.

Christopher.

He was in the driver’s seat of his expensive jeep, eyes narrowing with confusion and something else—concern? Anger?

“What the hell are you doing out here?” he asked yelling, pulling the car closer to the curb.

This guy was the last person I needed to see right now.

I turned away without a word and kept walking, heels clicking against the pavement, faster this time.

I heard his car door slam behind me, but I didn’t look back.

I couldn’t. Not tonight.

Let him drive away. Let him be confused or irritated or whatever emotion he wanted to wrap around that sharp tongue of his.

But then—

I felt it.

A hand wrapped gently but firmly around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks.

My breath caught.

“Aurora,” he said again, closer this time, voice lower, more serious. “Stop.”

I didn’t turn around at first. I just stared ahead, heart pounding for reasons I didn’t want to admit.

“Let go,” I said quietly.

He did—but didn’t move back.

I straightened my posture before turning halfway, brushing my hair behind my ear with a calm I didn’t feel. 

“I was just going for a walk.”

Chris raised an eyebrow. “In heels? At ten at night? Alone?”

I swallowed, glancing at the sidewalk. “I needed air.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Right. Try again”

I sighed. “I was out with friends, okay? My car didn’t have enough gas, and my phone died. It’s not a big deal.”

His eyes locked on mine, sharp and unrelenting.

“You don’t drive in the dark and you flinch at sidewalk cracks,” he said flatly. 

I didn’t answer.

Mostly because there was nothing left in me to say, but when I looked at him, it was like no time had passed at all. Like he hadn’t shattered me. Like my heart hadn’t learned how to ache because of him. 

So instead, I just let out a snarky comment. 

“Why the hell are you even here? Are you keeping tabs on me?” I scoffed. 

Chris looked past me, then tilted his head toward the street. “Look over there.”

I followed his gaze.

Across the road, glowing white letters lit up the dark glass of a tall building.

His building. His company. His logo.

I blinked. Oh.  

“I was working late,” he said quietly, his tone low and unreadable. “You’re in my district, Aurora. So really, I should be the one asking—are you keeping tabs on me?”

I felt my stomach twist, embarrassment crawling up my throat.

I hadn’t even realized where I was. Of all places.

I felt a sudden drop fall onto my nose. 

Great. This is just great. 

He looked at me again. “You don’t have to tell me the truth. But I’m not letting you walk home.”

He stepped back, nodding toward his car.

“Get in. It's going to rain.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.”

“Aurora—”

“No,” I said, louder. “I’m fine.”

I turned again and started walking—fast, anywhere, nowhere. My feet carried me into some random parking lot, the kind that looked deserted after hours, shadows cast by broken lights and half-empty signs.

I didn’t even know where I was going. I just needed to move. To get away.

“Aurora,” Chris called behind me, footsteps catching up. “Where are you going?”

I didn’t answer. My hands were fists at my sides.

“Seriously? Into a dark parking lot? What are you doing?”

“Leave me alone!” I snapped over my shoulder, not stopping.

He kept coming. “You’re being difficult for no reason—”

I whipped around.

“No reason?” My voice cracked.

He froze.

The droplets started to increase. 

I let out a shaky breath, arms dropping to my sides. “You think I want to see you? You think I want to sit in your car and pretend like we’re—like we’re fine?”

Silence.

“I didn’t ask you to show up. I didn’t ask you to save me,” I said, voice rising. “I didn’t ask for anything.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said quietly. 

I looked away, blinking fast. My throat was burning.

“I had one bad night,” I whispered, “and of course, it had to be you who saw me.”

He took a careful step forward. “Why does that bother you so much?”

I looked at him, eyes glassy. “Because I’m trying to move on. And every time I think I’m doing okay, you show up.”

His expression softened. “Aurora—”

“I don’t want to need you.”

The words slipped out before I could stop them.

Chris didn’t move. Didn’t speak.

Suddenly, I felt everything all at once—embarrassment, anger, exhaustion.

I wrapped my arms around myself. “I just wanted one night. One simple night without memories, without you in my head.”

For a long second, he said nothing. 

Then, quietly, “What happened tonight?”

I looked away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.”

“I don’t care anymore,” I said flatly, pulling my arms tighter around myself. “You showing up like this—it doesn’t mean anything.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Then why are you shaking?”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

I looked away. “Just leave.”

But he didn’t move. Not even a step. He just stood there, the rain properly drizzling now. 

Both of us soaked. 

He tilted his head, studying me like he was trying to read a language he used to know but couldn’t quite translate anymore. “You’re not okay. And I don’t believe for a second that you just happened to be out walking alone—at night, in this neighbourhood, with a dead phone.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“I never said you did.”

“Then stop acting like you deserve one.” I snapped. “We’re not anything anymore, Chris. You don’t get to show up and act like you still know me.” 

I heard him sigh. I just wanted him to feel, though. 

“I have a boyfriend,” I said, the words leaving my mouth like I’d rehearsed them a hundred times, even though I hadn’t.

Chris froze, eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

I didn’t flinch. “You heard me.”

His voice dropped. “Who?”

I shrugged. “The guy you saw at the show a few months ago.”

Chris’s eyes narrowed, the memory hitting him. “That guy…you’re with him now?”

I hesitated for half a second before answering.

“He asked,” I said, voice light, indifferent. “And I’m going to say yes.”

Chris stared at me like I’d just punched him in the gut.

“You’re going to say yes,” he repeated slowly, like he needed to hear it out loud again to believe it.

I nodded, but I couldn’t meet his eyes for long.

Chris’s face drained of colour, like the world had suddenly tipped sideways. I thought I saw his eyes glisten—was that a tear? No, I must be imagining it. Though his voice, when he spoke, was barely more than a whisper, raw and desperate.

No. Chris Sturniolo doesn’t hurt, he does the hurting. 

We stood there in the rain with complete silence between us. Before he spoke up. 

“Please…don’t say yes.” 

He stepped closer, his hands trembling as if holding himself together was a struggle.

“Why?” I whispered, heart pounding, trying to stay calm.

“Because you’re not meant for that,” he said, voice cracking with a kind of pleading I’d never heard from him. “You don’t give up like that. Not on yourself. Not on me.”

He swallowed hard, eyes searching mine, vulnerable and raw. “I know I don’t deserve it. I know I’ve hurt you. But… Please, don’t forget me.”

His body was so close to me now, the red in his face evident. 

I wasn’t wrong. Chris was…Chris was crying. 

Before I could say anything, his shoulders sagged, and he stumbled forward like all the strength had drained out of him. His head dropped against my chest, and I felt the sudden, warm weight of his body lean into me.

He was crying.

Real, raw tears, silent but unstoppable. He was actually crying. 

The coldhearted, arrogant, stern Chris was holding onto me, begging me not to leave.

I froze, heart hammering, breath caught in my throat. I had never seen him like this—never imagined this side of him.

His hands clenched weakly at my waist as he trembled, his tears mixing with the rain falling. 

I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to pull away, but another part wrapped itself around him, steadying him, holding him.

“Chris…” I whispered, voice barely audible, still stunned.

His face was pressed into the crook of my neck, warm and trembling against my skin. His voice came out barely above a whisper, rough with emotion.

“Don’t,” he said, his voice low. 

I stiffened, struggling to steady myself. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t fall for him, Ma,” he pleaded, tone thick with yearning. “Don’t fall for anyone but me.”

My own tears started to enter my waterline, begging not to fall. 

“Chris”, I said, still holding him.

After a moment, he held himself up. Still close, but looking into my watery eyes, with his own. 

“In December, on that beach,” he began softly, “you asked me if I’d ever been in love. I said no.”

I stayed silent, waiting.

“Ask me again.”

My breath caught in my throat. I knew what he was going to say. I didn’t want him to say it.

“I don’t know what to say,” I whispered, wiping away a tear that slipped down my cheek.

“Aurora, I lov—”

“Don’t say it.”

“I love you.”

“Chris!” 

My chest heaved.

He didn’t stop. 

“I love you, Aurora!” he said, louder this time—like it had been clawing its way out of him for months.

His voice cracked. “I hurt you, I know I have—and I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you let me.”

My tears were falling freely now, hot and silent. My whole body was burning, caught between the past and everything we never said.

He reached out, cupping my cheek with trembling fingers, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

“Tell me you don’t feel it, Aurora,” he whispered, eyes searching mine like they held his last hope. “Tell me you don’t love me.”

I stared up at him, and every bit of restraint I had built—shattered in that moment. 

“Loving you was never the problem, Chris,” I said, my voice barely above a breath. “Being with you was all I wanted”. 

“Then be with me, baby.” he pulled me closer, the rain swallowing both of us. “I’ve been waiting for you, ever since you left. I’ve been waiting”. 

He took my head and tucked it into his chest. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled into my hair.

“Do you even know why you’re apologizing?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t fight for you harder. I’m sorry I wasn’t ready to love you the way you deserved.”

He continued. 

“I know I’m not perfect—God, I’m far from it. I’ve messed up more times than I can count. But I’ll learn. I’ll change. I’ll become better if it means I get to be yours. I love you so damn much, I don’t even know what to do with myself. I tried…I really tried to live without you. But I can’t. Everything reminds me of you. The penthouse doesn’t feel like home anymore—it’s just empty without you. I miss you. I miss us.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“I’d rather hurt with you than heal without you.”

His words cut deep. 

“Please, Aurora,” he said softly, his voice laced with worry. “Just come home tonight. You’re going to get sick out here.”

The night air had grown colder, and the rain clung to our skin like a second layer. My straight hair had turned wavy from the damp, clinging to my face in loose, messy strands. His hair, usually styled to perfection, had fallen flat, droplets dripping from the ends. We stood there, soaked. 

I looked away, torn. My lips parted like I had something to say, but nothing came out. I didn’t know what the right thing was anymore.

He took a step closer. “You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to decide anything now. Just…let me take care of you, even if it’s just for a few hours. I don’t want you alone tonight.”

I hesitated—just for a second—but it was long enough for him to notice. His hand brushed against mine, careful, waiting for me to pull away.

“Okay.”

He looked at me, before it melted into a broken smile.

“Okay?” he echoed, like he needed to hear it again just to believe it.

I nodded, slowly. “Yeah.”

Gently, he reached for my hand. His fingers laced through mine, warm and familiar. We didn’t say another word as he led me toward his car. 

Just as he opened the front passenger door for me, I heard him murmur under his breath. 

“I’m never leaving you again.”

CHRISTOPHER 

It didn’t take long to get Aurora back to my place—our place.

The drive was quiet. Unsettlingly quiet. She stared out the window the whole time, her face unreadable, but her fingers fidgeted in her lap. I knew her well enough to know that meant she was overwhelmed. Maybe scared. Probably both.

I kept my eyes on the road, but every red light, every slow turn, I found myself glancing at her. Just to make sure she was real. That she was actually here. That I hadn’t just imagined the entire night—her voice, her tears, the way her arms finally wrapped around me like she needed me again.

Gosh, I needed her, too.

I killed the engine and stepped out. I opened her door like I always used to. She didn’t say anything, just stepped out quietly and followed me inside. 

For the first time in what felt like forever, I heard the soft sound of her footsteps beside mine.

She was home. Now I just had to figure out how to keep her here.

As soon as we stepped inside, I saw her shiver. The warmth of the house hit me, but it didn’t seem to reach her.

“You’re still cold,” I said, my voice low. “Come on.”

She didn’t respond, but her eyes met mine for a second—guarded, tired—and then she followed.

I led her into my room.

“Take a hot shower,” I told her gently. “You’re soaked.”

She stood near the doorway like she wasn’t sure she should be here. Like she didn’t know if it was still her place.

Without saying anything else, I opened my closet and grabbed a hoodie—one I remembered she used to steal from me—and a pair of grey sweatpants that would probably fall off her, but they’d be warm.

“I’ll leave these here,” I said, setting them on the edge of the bed. “There are towels in the bathroom drawer. Just... take your time.”

She still hadn’t moved. Still hadn’t spoken. But when I passed by her on my way out, I felt her eyes on me.

“Aurora?” I said, pausing in the doorway.

She looked up. 

“I’ll be right outside. Okay?”

She gave the faintest nod.

I had gone back to the kitchen, running a hand through my damp hair, when Ana spotted me.

“Who’s here?” she asked, her brows lifting with concern.

“Aurora,” I said quietly.

Her eyes widened. “Aurora? Where is she? Is she alright?”

“She’s upstairs,” I replied, glancing toward the staircase. “She was caught in the rain. I told her to take a shower, warm up.”

Ana’s expression softened, but her worry didn’t fade. “Is she hurt? Did something happen?”

I shook my head. 

“Not physically, no. But…” I trailed off, unsure how to explain the storm I’d seen behind Aurora’s eyes. The way she looked at me was like she still carried every piece of pain I’d caused her.

Ana stepped forward, her voice lowering. “Did she come here on her own?”

“No. I found her.” My jaw tightened. “She was walking. Alone..”

Ana blinked, then placed a hand on my arm. “Chris…”

I sighed and maneuvered my way further into the kitchen. 

Around half an hour passed, and I still hadn’t heard from her.

I knocked lightly on the bathroom door—nothing.

“Aurora?” I called, my voice low but cautious.

Still no answer.

I pushed the door open gently. The bathroom was empty, and the towel she’d used hung neatly on the rack. My heart dropped. I stepped into the bedroom—no sign of her. The shirt and sweatpants I’d given her were gone from the bed. My pulse quickened. 

No. She wouldn’t just leave again. Not without saying anything. Not this time.

I moved fast, checking the hallway, the guest room, the front door—locked. I was just about to grab my phone when something caught my eye through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

There she was. Out on the balcony. Like no time had passed. Her favorite place.

I stood frozen, staring at the curve of her back. The sight felt painfully familiar—like a memory I’d replayed a hundred times before but never thought I’d get to see again. The way the soft light hit her hair, the quiet stillness she carried—it was both comforting and heartbreaking all at once.

I grabbed a mug of tea from the kitchen and quietly stepped out onto the balcony.

She didn’t turn around, but I set the warm cup down beside her.

The steam curled up between us in the cool night air.

“I thought you might need this,” I said softly, my voice barely more than a whisper.

She didn’t say anything, but I could tell she appreciated it.

She accepted the cup and settled into one of the chairs.

Silence wasn’t something I was comfortable with.

“Talk to me, baby,” I urged gently, sitting down beside her. 

She turned her head towards me, her beautiful doe eyes staring at me. 

I couldn’t believe she was really here—actually here—after all these months of distance between us. She was with me, in my home, even wearing my clothes.

Suddenly, a small smile broke across her face.

I narrowed my eyes. “What’s that about?”

She teased, “Aren’t you gonna pull out a cigarette now?”

I exhaled softly, a chuckle escaping me. “No, Ma. I quit.”

She raised an eyebrow. “When’d you quit?”

I shrugged lightly. “A couple of months ago.”

“That’s good,” she said softly, then glanced at me curiously. “Why’d you quit? What changed you’re mind?”

I gave a lazy smile her way, “You don’t like smokers.”

She blinked, caught off guard.

“Wait…you actually quit smoking because of me?” Her voice was soft, almost disbelieving.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool, but there was a hint of something real in my eyes.

“Figured if I wanted any chance with you, I had to quit.”

She looked at me, a mix of surprise and something softer in her gaze.

I met her gaze and said, “Since you asked me something, now it’s my turn.”

She nodded quietly, a little wary but willing.

“So,” I began, “what was the real reason you were out tonight?”

Her shoulders sagged slightly, and after a long pause, she spoke, her voice low and hesitant. She looked a bit embarrassed. 

“So, um… Darren—the guy from the show. We went to eat tonight, and he couldn’t drop me off,” she said hesitantly.

I narrowed my eyes. “The same guy who asked you to be his girlfriend?”

She nodded, biting her lip. 

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. 

“Some asshole left you alone. In the dark,” I said, my voice shaking with fury. 

Who in their right mind lets a woman walk alone, especially at night?

“You could’ve gotten hurt. Anything could’ve happened to you”, I said, protectiveness crawling into me. 

I turned to face her again, my chest rising and falling. I watched her closely, a frown on her face. 

“That guy? He’s done. I don’t care what excuse he gave. A real man doesn’t leave a woman stranded. Especially you. Not ever.”

She stayed silent. 

I lowered my voice but not my protectiveness. “I want him gone. You hear me? I don’t want him calling you, texting you—nothing. You’re mine, and I swear I’ll break his neck if he tries some shit”

I exhaled, some of the anger sliding as I looked at her. I couldn’t stop looking at her, even though I had her whole face basically engraved in my mind. 

I examined her silence. 

“You alright?” I asked, softer now. “Tell me the truth.”

She gave a small smile. “Yeah. Just…my feet hurt. Heels were a bad idea.”

I looked down and noticed her feet tucked against the balcony chair; she had socks on, my socks. 

I smiled, realizing she had taken a pair from my drawer. 

One step closer to her feeling at home again. 

Without a word, I reached over and gently pulled one leg onto my lap.

Her head turned toward me, brows raised slightly. “What are you doing?”

“Relax,” I said, my hands already working over the arch of her foot.

She didn’t say anything—just watched me as I continued rubbing soft circles into her, easing the tension from her soles. I moved to the other foot, taking care of it. I watched her relax and drink the tea. 

A few quiet minutes passed. The night air was calmer now, the rain long gone. 

She hadn't spoken, but I could tell something was shifting in her. Her breathing was steadier, her shoulders less tense. 

Then, softly, almost like she was afraid of breaking the stillness, she asked, “Did you mean it?”

I looked at her, my brows pulling together. “Mean what?”

She hesitated, biting her lip. Her eyes didn’t meet mine right away. “That you still care… that you… Love me.”

My heart thudded hard in my chest.

I took one of her hands in mine. Her softness engulfed me, my thumb traced gentle circles against her skin, memorizing her all over again.

“I meant every word, my love”. 

She looked at me—really looked—and for a second, it felt like the world slowed. Like the pain, the distance, the lost time… all of it folded into this moment.

“I never say things I don’t mean,” I added. “Especially not with you.”

I held her gaze, letting the quiet settle between us, and I cupped her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my palm.

She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. A world without her would be a world without beauty, at least for me.

I leaned in slowly, our faces just inches apart, giving her a moment to pull away if she wanted. She didn’t. So I closed the distance gently, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. The familiar warmth hit me instantly.  

When we pulled apart, she glanced away for a moment, a faint blush coloring her cheek. Small smiles played on both our lips.

I stared at her face, showering her with the look of love. 

READ ALL RELEASED CHAPTERS HERE!

[a/n: I missed them to be honest. Time for the healing process! I can't believe were near the end of this series. Like and reblog! Mwah I love you] – Ceyana

tags: @loser41ifee @bluestriips @mattsfrenchtoast @slvtf0rchr1s @courta13 @emeraldsturns @mattscore @chriss-slutt @chrissturniolodailysluts @pip4444chris @oopsiedaisydeer @y3sterdaysproblem @sagesturns @prettyingreen4chris @ilovenicksturniolosblog @lm-a-mirrorball @idkwhatimdoinghereeeeeee @kingofeverythingmb @kitty-meow-meow44 @maraschino9 @mattsdemi @chrissturniolobendmeovernow @kenah-sturniolo @le4hsblog @idkwhatthisis2009 @anonymouslyachris @maricat12

[smartkookiee]

How to Lose A Guy in 30 Days! || Ch.3 — jjk.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。 ❥pairing: Jungkook x Reader (she/her, afab) ❥genre/rating: strangers to lovers, 18+ ❥chapter warnings/tags: software engineer!Jungkook, writer!Reader, fluff, 2000 rom com vibes, making out, flirting. drinking, swearing, crying, sweet pining Jungkook, Jungkooks past comes up (boooooo), ex situationship thingsss, its a sweet chapter and they make out and I love it, legit the easiest chapter I have written so far ❥word-count: 10.7k ❥Series Masterlist Previous Chapter ||❥|| Next chapter ❥Playlist fic is cross posted to ao3 - send an ask or comment on post to be added to the tag list. ❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Day 3

“And you really believe this guy is going to work for this?” Yoongi said, looking over your notes and layout of the entire plan you had.

“Absolutely sir.” You nod. 

It was the Tuesday following you and Jungkook’s date. You two had gotten some dinner and then you went home. You tried not to let that text ruin your mood but it did bring you down for the meal. You and Jungkook just talked more about what you do and things you liked. Just easy conversation and sharing social media, small things that you could mask your disappointment with and give cheerful and in depth answers. 

That text sucked to see. It sucked to see that he made this promise to be serious but he was just playing you. To be fair, you didn’t know him. It was your first date and he didn’t owe you anything. It would just make this easier. 

"Already past the first date. You’re jumping in head first." Yoongi mused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "So, what’s next?"

"The plan is to keep things moving. I only have thirty days, so I wanted to start strong. The first date was just to break the ice. Now, I'm aiming to stay in touch throughout the weeks—get more involved and annoying to make sure I stay on his radar." 

Yoongi chuckled. "And what does annoying entail in this case?"

You grinned, feeling a mischievous spark. "I was thinking some things like being a little too clingy. Getting a bit too personal too soon. Social media stalking, maybe even acting overly sensitive to anything he says about 'dating' or 'us.' Just... trying to inch my way into his daily life, so he can’t quite shake me off. Then next week I will take things to the next step."

Yoongi nodded in approval. "I like it. Thorough and unexpected, just what we want. Let’s round back around next week and check-in. We’ll go over your progress and adjust as needed. You’re off to a good start."

You gave him a grateful nod. "Thank you, sir."

With a wave of his hand, “Now go write, be amazing.” Yoongi dismissed you, and you returned to your desk, your mind already spinning with ideas. You were ready to dive into this full force, but there was one small snag, a small but persistent worry. You’d sent Jungkook a quick text yesterday, just a light “good morning” and a note about enjoying the date, but there hadn’t been a reply yet.

It wasn’t a big deal but already not responding to a text after a whole day was not sitting well with you.

Settling yourself down into your chair, that small disappointment from seeing that text on Jungkook's phone was still nagging at you. Your friends had warned you not to get attached, to keep things light, but you’d ignored them. They called this from a million miles away and you, like an idiot, let your guard down like always. 

Well, not this time. This was just a job. No more emotional slip-ups. 

“Damn it, I’m a writer.” You mumbled under your breath. “This is just research. He’s just a random guy.”

With renewed determination, you opened your laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as you drafted the first section of your article. Reliving the details of your first date, you kept it light and short because this wasn’t about how the first date went great, it’ll be about everything that happens now. You had your plan ready for action.

You were finally hitting a flow, words forming exactly as you wanted, when you heard footsteps stop just outside your cubicle. 

“Special delivery!” Ann, one of the front-desk clerks, appeared with a bright smile, holding a small bouquet. "Someone’s got an admirer!"

She set down a small bouquet of sunflowers. The choice of flower surprised you most of all, you loved sunflowers. They were tied together with a purple ribbon and card attached to the end. Opening it, “A little bit of sun for a rainy first date. Thank you for listening to my fish facts. JK.” 

“Aww, that’s so sweet.” Ann cooed, lingering a moment to admire the flowers. She shot you a wink before heading back to the front, and you tried to keep your reaction composed.

You couldn't help but feel that small spark of joy, despite yourself, as you read the card. The sunflowers, your favorite, were unexpected and so charming. Tied with a cute ribbon that added a touch of thoughtfulness. You’d never been given flowers by anyone other than your parents and that one college boyfriend. Yet here they were, sent to your office, just for you.

If this had been any other situation, you’d probably be blushing and grinning like an idiot, falling head over heels way too fast. But the reminder of what you knew—what he was likely doing, the kind of guy he really was—kept you grounded. 

As you stared at the bouquet, lost in thought, the telltale squeak of a chair wheeling over caught your attention.

“Wow someone’s special.” Ronnie rolled right next to you. “Are those from who I think they are from?” 

 "Looks like it." You replied casually, flashing her the card. "Just… a little thank you gift."

Ronnie waggled her eyebrows. "Oh, just a thank you gift? The guy sent you your favorite flowers, after only one date. You sure you aren’t already planning your future house décor with him?"

Rolling your eyes, you turned back to your laptop, brushing off the teasing. "Maybe," But the flicker of disappointment crept back in. "If he hadn't got that text on our date. Then maybe this would be a sweet gesture. There's no way I'm getting attached to someone who’s probably chatting up another girl at the same time."

Ronnie gave you a skeptical look. "You still haven’t told me what it said, just that you went from mildly hopeful to permanently sour about him. Especially after you begged me and Jin to let you pick another guy before the date even ended."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "It was… friendly , if you know what I mean."

“Oh, friendly friendly?” She echoed, her voice heavy with implication. She winced sympathetically. "I’m sorry."

You shook your head, swiveling to face her. "No, no. We’re not doing the whole pity party thing. No look at Y/N she got fooled by another asshole again. This is work.  I knew what I was signing up for with this guy, and it’s why we chose him. I can handle it."

Ronnie raised her brows. "Yeah, sure. You sound totally fine."

“I am fine.” You insisted, forcing a smile. “It’s all part of the assignment, right? A totally detached, unbiased observation. Think of me as an objective researcher.”

“Okay Dr. Detachment. How are you going to respond to these?” Ronnie glanced down to the flowers and then back up to you. 

You opened your mouth to answer but paused, glancing at the flowers. You already knew what you wanted to do, but still… you weren’t quite sure how to play it yet. 

Meanwhile, across town, Jungkook was still buzzing from his own bold move. He and Hoseok were walking down the street on their lunch break, and Hoseok eyed him suspiciously. Jungkook filled him on the details with a little too much spring in his step, never a way Hoseok had ever seen Jungkook act after a date. 

“So… the date went that well, huh?” Hoseok finally asked, giving Jungkook a smirk. “You’re practically skipping.”

“Hey, I am not. ” Jungkook grumbled, trying to keep his voice casual as he filled Hoseok in on the date. It had gone smoother than he’d expected, and he couldn’t ignore that spark of excitement. 

Jungkook had done a little social media stalking when he spent the day with his parents yesterday. You used a sunflower in your bio and in a lot of your posts, so he took a guess that they may have been your favorite flower. It did take him a little tracking down though, since sunflowers were going out of season. 

Hoseok grinned, giving Jungkook an approving nod. “So… flowers and a corny note? You’re going for gold.”

“Exactly,” Jungkook replied, a proud glint in his eyes. “I’m hoping she liked it. She’s into romantic movies and such so I thought it would be a good gesture.” Plus it was a perfect opening note since sending flowers is another classic romantic movie troupe. “She should have gotten them by now.” He checked his phone yet again, his screen still frustratingly blank.

Hoseok raised an eyebrow to him, “Does it bother you that she’s not immediately giving you all of her attention.” 

Jungkook snorted, “No.” He paused but the silence between them hung a little too long for Hoseok to be convinced, “Okay maybe a little.” 

Hoseok let out a laugh, shaking his head with an amused grin. "Wow. Didn’t know you were secretly a heartthrob under all that cool indifference. Who are you, and what did you do with Jungkook?"

“Shut up.” Jungkook muttered, fighting a smile as he looked away. “I’m just… giving this a real shot. Like I said I would.”

“And you’re stressing out over whether she liked your flowers or not.” Hoseok added, raising an eyebrow. “Must be a real first for you.”

Jungkook shrugged, feeling his cheeks heat up. “I just thought I’d make an effort, alright? ” He glanced at his phone again, his thumb hovering over the screen before he stuffed it back into his pocket.

“Why do I feel like the grand romantic gesture wasn’t entirely about the bet?” Hoseok chuckled, giving him a playful nudge.

“It’s not because I’m actually dating her remember?” Jungkook replied, a little too quickly, then caught himself. 

“You know,” Hoseok said, tilting his head, “there’s no law that says you can’t text her first, right? Might even make you seem… interested.”

Jungkook scoffed, his gaze glued to the sidewalk. “I don’t want to look desperate.”

“Dude, come on. Desperate is sending $50 sunflowers in November.” Hoseok replied, laughing as Jungkook scowled.

Jungkook sighed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. “I just really enjoyed spending time with her. It’s different.”

“So shoot her a text, lover boy.” Hoseok urged, hit Jungkook lightly on the back of the head. “All the smooth moves in the world won’t matter if she doesn’t know you’re into her.”

Jungkook’s phone buzzed just as Hoseok delivered his advice, catching him off guard. He glanced down and saw your name on the screen. His eyes lit up, and a grin broke across his face—so wide and giddy that it almost unnerved Hoseok.

“Speak of the devil.” Jungkook muttered, barely containing his excitement.

“Well answer it.” He shoves his shoulder.

 Jungkook fumbles with his phone and steps off to the side to answer, “You’ve reached Sunflowers on the Go. How may I be of service?” 

You hum on the other end of the line in amusement, “So it’s the strangest thing. I got this delivery of sunflowers here on my desk but I don’t remember placing an order.” 

“Hmm, strange indeed.” Jungkook replied, grinning. “Turns out we only deliver to Composure magazine. No one else.”

What Jungkook wasn't aware of is you had him on speaker phone so Ronnie was also able to hear him. She brought her hand to her face at his cheesy responses. You also shook your head at absurdity. 

“Oh, is that so?” You teased. “Well, there was a little card attached… signed by someone named ‘JK.’”

“Yep, that’s the guy. Don’t know him personally, but he seems pretty cool.” Jungkook said, leaning into the joke. Looking over at Hoseok who was drawing hearts in the air around Jungkook, Jungkook just rolled his eyes.

“Hmmm, I don’t know anyone named ‘JK’. Guess I’ll just have to throw these away then.” You play with the ribbon in your fingers.

“Whoa, whoa, hey! That’s mean!” He protested, laughing. You laughed as well at his protest.

“Okay but seriously how did you know these were my favorite?” You touch one of the petals, sunflowers were definitely out of season so he had to go to some work to find really fresh ones. “Or was it just a lucky guess?”

“I may or may not have noticed a pattern on your socials.” His tone was sheepish and you just shook your head.

“Ah, so you were stalking me.” You nod, you notice Ronnie roll on over back to her desk. Coming back with her phone in hand. She was typing frantically.

“Maybe a little bit.” Jungkook let a beat pass, “I guess more importantly do you like them?” 

“They are very beautiful. Especially for this time of year.” You sigh, the gesture really was sweet. Might be fast for Jungkook to send flowers this early on but still sweet.

Jungkook let out a sigh he hadn't realized he had even been holding in, “I do have to confess something. I was hoping this would make an opening for me to invite you to dinner.” He shifted from side to side, “Well I would be making dinner.”

“Inviting me over? Wow, bold move. So soon.” You smile, Ronnie giving you a knowing look and you brushing her off. “Would I have to do anything?”

“I will take care of it all, I need to prove I can make a mean carbonara.” Hoseok gave Jungkook a look like he had no idea he had any cooking skill. “How about tonight?”

“I have plans tonight.” Which wasn’t a lie, you were going to work on some writing tonight. “How about Thursday?” 

“Perfect. You’re gonna be impressed, I already know it.” Jungkook chewed on his bottom lip. 

“I’m sure I will.” 

With some goodbyes you both hung up the phone. You could suddenly feel your heart racing in your chest and you mentally scolded yourself. You needed to remember none of this was long term. Which Ronnie was taking the lead in reminding you about.

“For someone who claims to be totally normal about all of this, you sure are smitten.” She crossed her arms and eyebrow raised observing you, “He totally knew these would work on you.” 

“I am totally normal about all of this. This is perfect, we are going on a second date and I get to start implementing my plan. Everything is on track.” You say but Ronnie is looking back to her phone, “What are you looking at?”

“I’m trying to find his Instagram.” She continued typing, not looking back up to you. 

“Oh he doesn’t have one.” You remembered from dinner on Sunday. It wasn’t abnormal for someone to not have one but Ronnie was surprised. 

“Boo, how am I supposed to dig up dirt on him?” Ronnie slumped down into her chair. You had actually done a little digging of your own the evening before though. 

“Pretty sure that’s my job and I already did. He has twitter but he doesn’t post often. He keeps a pretty low presence online so I wasn’t able to learn much that way.” You sigh, it was actually a little refreshing although it did leave you guessing. Makes it tough to be intrusive in the next steps of your plan. “By the way, can you cry on command?”

Ronnie raises an eyebrow at your request, “I don’t but I think we both know who might.” 

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

Day 5

Thursday arrived, you and Jungkook spent the entire day texting back and forth just talking about whatever came to your minds. You found any excuse to ask him any random question. Send him random things you genuinely thought were funny. He also had something funny to say back or respond with. So you just let that be it, just texting and talking as much as possible. 

Jungkook had spent the night before doing a practice carbonara. Watching some guy on youtube walking him through the steps. It turned out pretty good but he knew he could make a better one tonight. He got really nice ingredients that hopefully would push it over the edge. He really wanted to make a good first impression with his cooking. He had no issue inviting you over so soon after knowing you, he felt really comfortable with you already. 

He hoped it wasn’t too forward, but you didn’t seem to mind. 

He had a bottle of mid tier white wine in his fridge and he also got a red one because he wasn’t sure what you would prefer. He also wasn't sure what would pair better with a carbonara. Jungkook dressed his table up all nice, it was nothing special but a candle classes it up a little bit. Classic romantic things. It felt somewhat awkward and made him cringe but also no one else was around to see his effort but you, and you would appreciate it. 

Or at least he hoped you would. 

He then heard a knock from his front door. He thought it was a little early for you to be here but he didn’t mind, he still was making the food and he could pour you a glass while you waited. He trotted to his door, a smile on his face as he swung the door open with some gusto, only to have his features fall. 

“Channel?” Jungkook's face twisted into a confused but unamused expression, as she brushed past him into the apartment. “Please, come on in.” He said, his voice clearly sarcastic.

Channel looked like she was dressed for a night out and not for a very cold November evening at that. She had her hair curled and bouncy like it usually was, and the highest heel she could comfortably wear, clicking her way around Jungkook's apartment.

“I want my scarf back,” She had her arms crossed, strolling into the apartment with ease. She had been here enough times to know where everything was. “and since you won’t respond to my calls, here I am in person.”

“Okay, you couldn’t have texted me about this?” Jungkook let his front door close and followed after her through his apartment, as she tried to look under things and around furniture. 

She laughed bitterly, “Last I checked, you’ve been avoiding my texts as well.” She continued her hunt around his space. Jungkook getting a little peeved since he spent a good amount of time trying to make his space look good for your arrival. Your arrival which would be really soon and this was not a good look for a guy as you clocked as ‘unserious’.

"I kind of have a life, you know? I can’t answer every text you send.” Jungkook kept his eyes peeled for the scarf, more than ready for this encounter to end.

“Yeah, right.” Channel’s voice dripped with disbelief as she followed him further into the apartment, her arms crossed. “I could tell Hoseok was covering for you.” She paused mid-sentence, catching sight of the dining table set for two, a soft candle flickering in the center. Her expression turned suspicious. “And… what is that ?”

Jungkook looked back to the table and then back to her, acting like it’s always looked like that. “Nothing, now where is that scarf?”

“Your place is so… spotless.” She murmured, her eyes scanning every corner of his living room, taking in the lit lamps, the neatly arranged coffee table, and the faint smell of food coming from the kitchen. “Setting a mood , are we?”

“I mean, I clean often. I’m not a slob.” He replied defensively, trying to wave off her assumptions, though he could see she was putting it all together, one detail at a time.

Channel sniffs the air for a moment and then stalks over to the kitchen, “You’re cooking? You don’t cook.”

“Whenever he hung out, cooking really wasn’t a part of the schedule.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, aware that he was pushing her buttons. “I cook all the time.” 

“Oh, I see.” She replied, her tone flat but her eyes flashing. She tilted her head, a cruel smile tugging at her lips. “So, who is she, then?” 

Jungkook sighed, not fighting her anymore, “No one, and she is coming over soon, let’s find your scarf so you can leave.” 

But Channel didn’t budge, her eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms tighter. 

“Oh no, no, no. You’re not brushing this off like that. Nice napkins, a candle? You set a damn table , Jungkook. What is this, some kind of date?” Her voice grew sharper with each word, anger and betrayal clear in her expression.

“That’s not really your business is it?” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, he needed to get her out of here. 

Channel let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Not my business? You know what’s funny? All this time, I thought maybe we were building toward something real. And now, I see you’re doing that with someone else ?” She scoffed, her face hardening. “What, you just didn’t want this with me?”

Her words hung in the air, clear betrayal laced them. Him and Channel only had a sexual relationship, it’s what they agreed upon from the start. Sometime in there Channel developed some feelings for him and after a few months asked if they could take this more seriously. Jungkook wasn’t ready for that kind of step so they ended it all together. So now this all looks really bad. 

Except, he thought, it’s none of her business if he did change his mind. He never lied to her, and he was always very clear that he did not want a relationship. He really didn’t, and this thing with you, although a part of a bet, was something he was dipping his toes into. 

“Channel, that’s not it.” Jungkook said, sighing. “I really didn’t want a relationship.” He hesitated, then finally admitted, “But I met someone, and…we’re trying things out and it’s brand new. So please leave.”

Channel’s face twisted in anger, her voice rising as she spat, “Oh, I get it.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder, looking around his place with fresh resentment. “I bet you’ll dump her as soon as you’ve slept together a few more times. Because that’s what you do , Jungkook.”

He clenched his fists, frustrated but trying to stay calm. “You know, I’ve had enough of this.” He said quietly, finally spotting the scarf stuffed into a seat cushion. He pulled it out, tossing it to her.

She caught it and threw it around her neck with a sneer. “So what is it about her, huh? What makes her so ‘special’ that suddenly you’re willing to commit ?” She shot him a glare, stepping closer. “Maybe I should stick around and meet this one-of-a-kind woman. See what all the fuss is about.”

“No,” Jungkook said firmly, guiding her toward the door. “You’re leaving, now.”

She jerked away from his touch, folding her arms defiantly. “What? Is she going to be here soon?” Her eyes gleamed with spite. “You don’t want her to know what you’re really like?”

Jungkook let out a slow breath, gathering his patience. “No. I think she would be an adult and actually talk with me about it.” He replied, surprising himself with the honesty in his voice. “Whatever she finds out—that’s for me to tell her and her to decide. So, goodnight, Channel.”

She stared at him, anger simmering as she pulled open the door, glancing back with an icy glare. “Screw you, Jungkook.” With that, she stormed out, letting the door slam behind her.

At the same time she opened the door, you were stepping out of the elevator and onto Jungkook’s floor. You spotted a girl storming down the hallway after yelling inside a doorway, as she passed you muttering a quick “Excuse me” without a second glance. You had an uneasy feeling about her, especially as she walked away from the very apartment number Jungkook had given you. You double-checked, confirming the number on your phone with the one she had just exited, and the sinking feeling intensified.

“Jesus Jungkook. At least have some class and spread out your dates so we don’t bump into each other in the hall.” You whisper under your breath, but you still had to go through with this as if you didn’t immediately feel a sense of dread. 

You took a steadying breath, willing yourself to ignore the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. After all, you were here now, and nothing had technically happened to prove your suspicions. So you pushed them down, knocked on the door, and tried to keep your expression neutral, reminding yourself you were maybe a minute early—nothing too crazy.

The door opened after a brief pause, and Jungkook’s face shifted from guarded to bright relief when he saw you standing there. His lips curled into a wide, easy smile, like he was genuinely glad to see you. His hair was a little tousled, his shirt a snug, tucked into jeans that fit him perfectly, emphasizing his lean frame. He looked relaxed, casually put together, which was somehow infuriatingly charming.

“Hey,” He greeted, his voice warm, stepping aside so you could enter. “Come on in.”

“Hi.” You replied, acting as if nothing felt off. 

You stepped past him, letting your eyes flick around the apartment, taking in the details—the tidy coffee table, a low hum of music playing through the room. He had a nice living room set up around a TV on the wall, the dining setup with an actual candle in the center. He’d put thought into this, that much was obvious. You couldn’t deny it was sweet, even if it left you slightly off-balance, considering what you’d walked past in the hallway moments ago.

“Okay now looking at it, the candle maybe was a little cheesy.” Jungkook cringed at himself looking at the little set up. You shake your head and wave him off. 

“No, I think it's adorable. You even got a scentless one so it doesn’t cover the smell of the food.” You take a seat at the table, “I’m prepared to be wow’d like you promised me.” 

“I unfortunately got a little bit delayed so I am not quite done yet.” Jungkook was shuffling his way back into the kitchen, “But make yourself at home.”

“Okay.” You smile as he rounds his way back into his kitchen, he watches you get back up and walk around his living space. Almost like he was waiting for approval. Luckily Channel hadn’t trashed the place. 

You took note of all of the little things he chose to have on display, some books, a few polaroid cameras and some polaroid's on the walls, as well as a record collection that was lined the side of the living room on some shelves. You thumbed through some of them to see what was available. Impressed with some of his picks, some similar to your own. His place wasn’t terribly big. Classic little bachelor pad. You had noticed he had chosen to keep what you could only assume was his bedroom door closed. 

It was something Jungkook thought way too hard about, if he left it open was it like saying he wanted to sleep with you tonight? Would it be way too forward? Or was closing it just as weird? Was closing it like telling you that he didn’t really want you in his space? He went back and forth and then opted to close it to maybe say he wasn’t expecting anything to happen, although he wouldn’t mind if it did. 

You on the other hand didn’t barely give it a thought other than noticing it. You picked up one of his polaroid cameras and brought it with you. You round your way back to his kitchen and stand off to the side watching him work. He was pretty zoned in on what he was doing, everything was really smelling great. You usually found it pretty hot if a guy could cook well. 

Jungkook took an opportunity to try some of his work and you took a photo right at the moment he took a bite, his eyes widened right at the moment he realized he'd been caught.

The picture came out and you set it down to develop. 

“I’m sure that will be super cute.” You laugh, setting down his camera as well. He laughs and you look over his shoulder to see how close he is to being done.

“Coming to inspect my work?” Jungkook glances to his side, seeing you peering over his shoulder to see what he was doing. He was almost done cooking. 

“Maybe.” You tease, “I’m a sucker for people who can cook. I’m just… okay at it.” 

“Well,” Jungkook stops what he is doing and reaches for a drawer next to him pulling out a fork and twirling some of the noodles onto it. Then holding the fork out to you. “I’m ready for your final score.”

You paused. Debating if you should eat the food off the fork or if you should take the fork. Would it send the wrong message if you ate off it? Or was that exactly what he was doing? The fork wasn’t very close to your mouth but not crazy far. You decided to just take the fork from him and take the bite. 

It ended up being really good carbonara. 

“Oh my god.” You smile chewing, “It’s really fucking good. Ten out of ten.” 

Jungkook did a small fist pump to himself, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth hiding a smile. “I’ll admit, I did a practice run yesterday and it was just okay but I’m glad this one is good.” Jungkook then took a bite of it himself with another fork. Jungkook upon tasting his own food smacking his own forehead and leaning back. 

Causing you to laugh at his dramatic reaction. 

You glanced at the polaroid on the counter picking it up to see if it had developed yet, it wasn’t fully done but you could see mostly what the picture would look like. You showed it to Jungkook and he smiled, “Ten out of ten picture. Best one of me yet.” 

You looked at it and he did look like a deer caught in the headlights but it was funny, you absentmindedly put it in your pocket. 

“I’ll admit I’m wowed, to be fair I’ve only had carbonara like one other time.” You lean against one of his kitchen counters watching him as he plates the pasta for the two of you.

“I’ll still take the high praise. Now, should we do a white or a red wine?” 

“Hmm, a red works better with this I think.” You nod. 

Jungkook tells you where you can find his bottle opener and some glasses. You managed to get the cork screw into the cork but seem to be lacking the ability to actually pull the cork out of the bottle. Jungkook finds some amusement in watching your struggle but you persist. You’ve opened plenty of wine bottles in the past, this shouldn’t be difficult. 

“Having some trouble?” Jungkook watched you try and fail to pull the cork out a third time.

“Absolutely not. The cork and I are just having a disagreement.” You shake off your hand a few times and then get a better grip on the screw pulling upward as best you can. With some pathetic struggle, you really swear you can feel the cork moving. You let out a sigh as you let it go again. 

“May I?” 

“I swear I’m not that weak.” This honestly was just embarrassing at this point, so much so you have to face away from Jungkook at your next attempt. 

You make one final grip on the corkscrew and twist and tug, finally the corkscrew and cork pop free. Not before your hand comes straight, hard and fast, into your own face.

“Oh shit,” Jungkook’s face changes as he sees you basically punch your own face. “Are you okay?” 

You did dizzy yourself slightly but you set the bottle down. Feeling your face, hoping you hadn’t broken your nose although it certainly would be bruised or sore at least, “Okay maybe I should never open wine ever again.” 

Your nose then began to pulse with pain, this definitely wasn’t a part of your plan for sure. You covered it with one of your hands but Jungkook pulled it away. “Here let me look at it.”

“Please tell me it’s not bleeding.” You groan, and Jungkook places his hands on both of your cheeks looking at it. You match his face and he looks genuinely concerned. 

“Well, I’m not a doctor but you’re still pretty cute.” He then smiles and rubs one of his thumbs on your cheek. “That’s my professional assessment anyways.”

“Okay, but it still really hurts.” You say, letting your own hands rest on his wrists. 

“Hey, it’s probably just a bit sore—no blood, no bruise.” He gently tilts your head from side to side in a silly, exaggerated inspection that makes you giggle. 

It’s quiet between you both for a moment, Jungkook still holding your face. He just looks over your face for a moment, your nose was red but it was probably going to be okay. He had hurt his own nose a few times to know if it was broken. 

Jungkook’s hands still on your cheeks, eyes meeting as he studies your face. It’s easy to get lost in the warmth of his gaze and how close he is. A little too easy. For a second, you find yourself softening, tempted by the thought of leaning in and just letting yourself enjoy this. But then, just in time, you snap back to reality, realizing you can use this little mishap to your advantage. This damage to your nose might have actually opened up a window for what you had been working yourself up too.

You pull your face away from Jungkook and shake your head, breathing in a heavy breath. Jungkook looked a little confused but then after a moment you were crying. You were crying? 

“Hey,” He placed a hand on your shoulder, “I was just teasing you.” 

You wave your hands in a frantic show, your voice cracking just a little. “No, no, it’s not you. It’s just….” You let out a little sob. “I’m just so clumsy! And you made this beautiful dinner, and I’ve totally ruined it!”

Jungkook looks utterly bewildered now, glancing around as if the answer to your sudden breakdown might be hiding in his kitchen cabinets. “Really, I promise, you didn’t mess anything up. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly, almost nervously.

“Ugh, I can't believe this. I’m totally ruining the mood.” You wipe your tears away. 

It was a good little performance. One that was planned.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

The evening before.

Day 04

“The art of crying on command.” Here you were again. Ronnie sitting next to you. Jin pacing back and forth with his notepad once again. Unfortunately for you, Jin was the person to have expertise on this subject being an acting teacher. 

“Okay I already regret this.” You try to stand up but Ronnie pulls you back down onto Jin’s couch. 

“This will help you!” Ronnie protested and leaned on you once you were settled back in. “This can be a part of your over dramatic persona you use.” 

“Exactly! It gives you another tool in the toolbox for the charade you signed up for!” Jin pointed at you with his pen and waving it around. 

“Fine, continue.” You wave for him to go on and Jin grins. 

“Thank you! Now, there are three main techniques for crying on command.” he begins, pacing dramatically. “Some people can just… do it. They snap their fingers and—bam! Tears.” He snaps his fingers for effect. “Others need to go to a sad memory. Something personal and emotional, something that really tugs at the heartstrings. And then, of course, some people have to resort to…ahem, creative methods. Pepper in the sinuses, maybe a little poke to the eye…”

“Let’s please avoid self-injury.” You interrupt dryly, giving him a look.

“Fair enough. Let’s start with the basics and see if you’re a natural.” Jin says, jotting a note on his pad. “Close your eyes, focus, and let’s see if you can will the tears into existence.”

You sit up straight, trying your best to summon tears on command, forcing your eyes to feel…sad? Your face contorts into what you hope is a tearful expression, but as you blink, nothing happens. Your eyes are as dry as ever.

“Nothing?” Jin sighs and makes a dramatic strike-through on his notepad, looking deeply disappointed.

“Yeah, sorry.” You mutter. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” Jin strikes something out on his notepad and you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “ Cannot cry on command. So let’s try a memory, or is there a movie scene you can’t think about because it gets you teared up?” 

You sit and think, you have some sad memories from your childhood that you bring to the front of your mind. Reminiscing on them, although some things are sad or bittersweet, nothing tear jerking. 

“Dry.” Ronnie leans over and looks closely in your eyes, so much so you have to shove her face away from you. 

“Dry.” Jin repeats and writes on his notepad. 

“Maybe try going to the dark place?” Ronnie snaps and looks at you. “You always get really teary eyed when you think about dying alone.”

“Okay rude.” You sigh, it wasn’t untrue. Whenever you came back from dates that were unsuccessful or you wasted your time on someone who just wanted something casual you found yourself going to, what you and Ronnie have deemed, the dark place. “I don’t like thinking about that.” 

“It’s for science!” Ronnie cheers, throwing her arms up like it's supposed to make it more fun or something. 

You groan, sinking deeper into the couch.  “I don’t know if this is such a great idea, honestly. When I start spiraling about my love life, it’s not exactly…mild.” You look down, already feeling a little prick of sadness starting to stir.

Jin comes and squats in front of you, “Well then just go to the edge of it and don’t think about the whole picture. What about dying alone usually gets you crying?” 

You think for a second, and finally, the words come out quietly. “I guess… I cry when I start thinking that maybe I won’t ever find someone who’s…just right for me.”

Ronnie lets out a soft “aww” and nudges you gently.

You let yourself feel it for a moment—the uncertainty, the nagging doubt that, maybe, you’ll keep hitting dead ends. And with that, you feel a familiar, bittersweet ache starting to well up.

Jin nods approvingly, seeing a slight glimmer in your eyes. “Excellent.” He says, jotting down, potential crying trigger identified.

The vulnerability hangs in the air, and you let yourself lean into it a little. Lately, it felt harder and harder to keep going on dates, to believe that love might work out someday. You always seemed to be either too much or not enough—loving too deeply, too slowly, too intensely. It left you feeling drained, to the point where dating felt less like romance and more like a chore.

But with Jungkook, for once, you’d felt...hopeful. Like there was someone who genuinely wanted to share a moment, who put effort into making sure you had a good time. As unintentional as it was, you’d started to feel a little spark, considering the circumstances of your forced meeting. But as soon as you’d started to believe it, you reminded yourself it was all part of the act. You couldn’t let yourself actually believe it. You got your hopes up again , and they were ripped out from under you… again . 

So you had slowly felt as time went on, you were losing sight of finding the one.  

Then without even realizing it, you had a few stray tears fall from your eyes. 

“Boom!” Jin erupted and sprang to his feet, “We have tears!”

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

You gripped onto that feeling you let it force a few more tears out of your eyes. Unfortunately you did not avoid the personal injury part of the tears. So this was going really well for you. 

You take a shaky breath, letting a few more tears roll down, making sure the sniffle that follows sounds especially pitiful. “Maybe I should just go home.” You say, voice wavering. “This along with my day… it’s all just been too much. You probably think I’m completely insane.”

You manage to start walking toward the door. Jungkook then panics for a moment, how did we go from laughing at you injuring your nose to crying and saying you’re going home? He felt like he had jumped three steps or something. You start toward the front door but Jungkook stepped around you, stopping you. 

“Wait what?” Jungkook looked confused, “How did we get here? I don’t want you to leave.”

You sniff even louder, adding just the right amount of snotty dramatics. “No, I should. You barely know me, and here I am—an emotional wreck in your kitchen. It’s… it’s too much.”

“And? You just hit yourself in the nose really hard. I would be a little embarrassed and want to leave too.” Jungkook places a hand on your arm, trying to comfort you. “Besides, isn't the whole point of going on dates to get to know each other better?”

“I guess.” You wipe your face again, “I don’t know… I didn’t mean to just… fall apart like this.”

Jungkook sighs a little relieved, that could have spiraled further. “And just so you know, I don’t think you’re crazy at all.”

“Well it’s still early, I haven't had a chance to go full blown crazy yet.” Which gets a laugh out of both you and Jungkook. 

“Well I can deal with that I think.” He gives you a small, reassuring smile. “Besides, the food is still good. Wine is still out and last I checked a bruised nose doesn’t stop you from eating.” 

“Wait, is it actually bruising?” You reflexively go up to touch it, definitely tender to the touch and Jungkook chuckles a little. 

“I’m teasing. It’s only a little red.” He takes your hand and pulls you back into his apartment, with a little reluctance from you. “Stay, at least for a little while. I’m not going to let you walk out of here feeling like this.”

You blink up at him, playing up a hint of uncertainty, but inside, you’re genuinely a little taken aback. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I do.” He tilts his head to the side trying to meet your eyes, that had been darting everywhere else out of real embarrassment. “Look, I don’t care if you cry, I’m the biggest cry baby I know!”

You manage a small, hesitant smile, as if he’s starting to get through to you. “I find that hard to believe.” 

Jungkook scoffs, feigning insult. “Oh, don’t underestimate me. Those ‘lost puppy finds his way home’ commercials? I’m done. I’m over here pretending there’s dust in my eyes.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “Okay, maybe I believe you… just a little.”

“There we go!” He looks genuinely pleased, his expression softening as he sees you relax. “So, if I’m willing to admit my crybaby tendencies, it’s only fair you stick around for dinner, right?” He tucks his bottom lip into his mouth in anticipation of your answer. 

“Alright, I’ll stay.” You say it with an air of nonchalance, trying to mask the small spark of mischief hidden behind your agreement. It earns you a relieved, borderline triumphant smile from Jungkook.

“Phew! You’re sparing me from a whole night of wondering if my cooking scared you off for good.” He grins, his dramatic sigh punctuating his relief.

“Oh, please.” You say, rolling your eyes, feeling the perfect opening for a light jab. “If anything, the food is what convinced me to stay.”

Jungkook then serves dinner for the both of you. You both fall into easy conversation as you eat, he really did do a great job with the food. He was very considerate of making sure you needed anything else or pouring more wine when you wanted it. As well as making you laugh at almost every single turn. You really do get it why he got girls to go home with him so easily, between this and your first date the amount of confidence and charm that exudes from him is palpable in the air. 

Jungkook would never show it but his lack of practice with dating has actually made this date and your last the most nervous he has been in a while. Jungkook’s mind is racing, carefully cataloging every response you make, every laugh, every nod. He wants—needs—this to go well, not just because he’d prefer to win $300 rather than lose it, but because, in his gut, he actually likes seeing you here, across from him. He catches himself wondering if he’s oversharing when he starts a story, or if he’s going on too long when he recounts his last trip. When you laugh at one of his stupid jokes, he relaxes a bit, but he still can’t quite shake that uncertainty. 

You decided no more theatrics for the evening and let this play out naturally, how you would play out any other evening. Anything else would tip him off that maybe you were doing this on purpose. 

After a while the two of you had moved into the living room, you had been flipping through his records again, you didn’t take a chance to look at them all earlier. He had a decent collection for sure so you got a good sense of the type of music he liked. You both had a few glasses of wine now and so the conversation had turned more and more flirtatious. 

Noting the variety of music—jazz, a little classic rock, some alternative stuff. “You’ve got a good taste.” You say, glancing back at him. “This one,” you pull a record out with a slight smirk, “definitely says something about you.”

“Oh yeah?” He grins, leaning on the side of his couch as he watches you move around his shelves. “And what exactly does it say?”

You tilt your head, pretending to give it serious thought. “That you’re trying really hard to be cool. Just edgy enough.”

He laughs, though you notice he flushes slightly, brushing off your joke with a casual shrug. “Hey, everyone needs a little mystery. Or at least…a halfway-decent record collection.”

“Is that what you’re hiding?” You tease. “A mysterious vinyl collection? Or is it just your immense amount of fish facts?”

“Well, you’ll have to stick around to find out.” The words slip out before he can stop them, and he immediately kicks himself. It feels too... eager, a bit too close to something genuine. But he manages to recover, putting on a self-assured smile. “Not everyone gets to see my hidden jazz albums.”

You laugh, setting the record back and looking at him with a raised brow. “Guess I’ll have to consider myself lucky, then.” Finding a spot back on the couch with him. 

Jungkook shifted in his spot so his body was completely facing you now. With the alcohol having set in, his eyes were a little droopy and he was smiling but he looked boyish. He found the more he was learning about you the more he felt fine with telling you things about himself. 

“You look tired.” You poke his forehead. “Maybe I really should go.” 

“It’s barely even late.” Jungkook takes your hand, lacing your fingers with his. “I’m not tired at all.” 

“Your eyes tell a different story.” You laugh, leaning your head against the back of his couch. 

“Well what else are they saying?” He smirks, finding any reason to get a compliment from you. 

You stare at them for a minute, you were trying to come up with something clever. “Well if I am translating this right… I can’t handle my wine. ”

You laugh and Jungkook rolls his eyes, “Wow how did you know?” 

“I have a thing for reading people.” You shrug. “What do mine say?”

He leans in really close looking between them. “Wow this guy is so hot and charming I really want to kiss him again .” Jungkook then gasps dramatically leaning away. “That’s scandalous, Y/N.”

“Shut up.” You laugh and get up from the couch trying to leave, Jungkook's hand pulling you back to standing in front of him. “You’re really full of yourself.”

“I’d like to think just a healthy amount.” He grins, Jungkook then places one of his hands on the back of your thigh. The warmth of his hand sends a shiver up your spine, but you do your best to keep your cool, not letting him see just how much his touch is affecting you.

You scoff with a half smile, “We’ll see about that.” 

Jungkook's smile widens sitting forward on his couch, both of his hands finding their way to your hips. Tracing small circles with his thumbs, making it impossible for you to think. The way he looks at you—intense, unflinching, like he’s trying to figure you out—has you second-guessing your plans  all over again, just for a second. This is what makes this hard, because the way he looks at you makes you believe every single word.

Many guys before have looked at you like this and you always fall for it, you always let yourself go for it. 

It’s a little difficult to remember that right now though, your mind is clouded by the wine. 

You glance down to his lap for a moment then back up to his eyes that haven’t left yours. “Can I?” 

Jungkook just nods, allowing you to take your place on his lap. Lifting your legs to either side of his hips. Jungkook really was not intending for this night to go this way but he wasn’t complaining if it had. He would do whatever you wanted. His hands stayed planted on your hips as you found what felt comfortable. 

“You’re pretty.” He says with a shine in his eyes, he really did find you gorgeous and would tell you again and again if it wouldn’t be weird. The compliment makes you blush and hum. 

“You’re pretty too.” You lace your arms around his neck. Both of your faces are coming so close together now. Breathes intermingling for a moment, asking the same question. “You were right though.” 

“About what?”

“I do want to kiss you again.” You catch the slight hitch in Jungkook's breath at your words, the way his fingers tighten on your hips, grounding you even as your heart races. His eyes flicker from your mouth to your eyes, searching your face as though he’s almost afraid this moment might slip away.

“I’m not one to protest.” Jungkook swallows for a moment, before you took no time to close the distance between you. Pressing your lips against his soft but certain. Jungkook immediately responds tilting his head to deepen it. One of Jungkook's hands sliding up your back to bring you closer to him. The moment makes you forget everything else, as you slide your tongue into his mouth. 

For a moment, you allow yourself to sink into it, into the surprising tenderness of his touch, the quiet intensity of his kiss. You move your hands to cup his face, relishing in how warm you are now. You felt your whole entire body heat up, and small wetness in between your legs. Oh this was not good, you cannot sleep with him this soon. 

Oh he probably knew exactly what he was doing though.

He would know exactly where to touch you and exactly how to make you moan and you had very little issues with wanting to let him do that. It would be so worth it, it would be so good. Except it cannot go past this, for your sanity at least. You needed to cut this off somehow. His tongue in your mouth was making it incredibly difficult to be logical. You could feel him probably already getting a semi and you really could not stop thinking about grinding on him. 

You needed to stop though. Because this is a great opportunity to drive in that wedge between the two of you. One more way to mess this situationship up, but not ruin it completely.

As you pull away from him, leaving his lap, you mutter, “Okay… Goodnight.” You force yourself to stand, feigning nonchalance as you gather your things, even though every cell in your body is screaming at you to turn back around. Jungkook is left blinking at you, visibly caught off guard, his hands awkwardly suspended in the air where your hips just were. He clears his throat, collecting himself as he scrambles to follow you.

Clearing his throat. “Hey… um woah… was that not good or whatever?” 

You pick up some of your stuff into your arm, “It was, it was good. It was great.” 

Oh god it was great, he was a really good kisser and your whole body was screaming at you but you fought through. 

Jungkook was confused by your answer and shook his head, as he continued to follow you, “Did… did I misread something? Because I was getting a vibe.”

You glance over your shoulder and manage to flash a casual smile. “No, you didn’t misread anything. I just… don’t usually sleep with someone on the second date. Kind of a rule.” You bite your lip, keeping the truth of it hidden.

“Oh.” Jungkook nods, a look of relief mixed with mild confusion crossing his face as he adjusts his shirt. “Right, totally. Cool cool cool. That’s more than okay and Makes sense, makes sense… you should have said something.”

“It’s a bit of a mood killer to say ‘hey, by the way, you’re not getting any,’ don’t you think?” You raise an eyebrow, suppressing a grin.

You gather your things, amused by his honesty, and start toward the door. Jungkook trails behind you, letting out a small puff of air as he stares at the floor. Then, after a beat, he glances up with a sly grin. “So… just out of pure curiosity, not trying to be weird or anything, but what date number are we talking about here? Fourth, fifth…?”

You can’t help but laugh at his question, knowing full well he has no idea you’re just messing with him. “More than that.”

He frowns, looking genuinely curious now. “Sixth?”

“Nope.”

“Seventh?” He leans in closer, eyes narrowed like he’s reading the answer off your face.

“Higher.”

“Okay, when do you usually?” 

You cross your arms, “Twelfth.” 

Jungkook’s face barely changes, but you can see his jaw tighten just a little as he processes this. “Twelve… dates.” he repeats slowly, nodding as if he’s mentally mapping it out. “I mean, sure. That’s totally reasonable. Not a problem.”

“Really?” You ask, surprised at his lack of pushback.

"Yeah.” He shrugs, putting on a confident smile. “Guess I just have to plan ten more killer dates.”

“Uh huh. I’ll believe it when I see them.” Jungkook then opens the front door for you. 

“You're going to keep me on my toes aren’t you?” He watches you slowly step out the door with a wide grin on your face. He finds it cute and playful, he could tell you liked the chase. 

“Goodnight Jungkook.” You say in a sing song voice, giving him a flirtatious wave as you walk up the hallway to his elevator. 

Before you could get too far Jungkook decided to leave with something. Trotting up the hallway so he could catch you, taking your wrist and stopping you. “One last thing.” 

Jungkook places a hand on your cheek and then kisses you. It surprises you but you welcome him, its one of those kisses that is so passionate and it makes your knees want to buckle out from under you in response. He uses just a little bit of  tongue to send a shiver through your whole body, his hand warm against your cheek as he continues to kiss you just long enough to make you lose track of the hallway, the elevator, and everything else. 

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are twinkling with that trademark cockiness, but there’s something softer underneath, something that makes your heart do an unwelcome little flip. He grins, his hand lingering on your cheek for just a moment longer before letting go. “Goodnight.”

He goes back into his apartment as you retreat to the elevator. As you ride down, you let out a shaky breath, trying to process what just happened, and trying even harder to remind yourself why you’re supposed to be making him miserable. But as your lips still tingle from his kiss, you’re the one who is being thrown off balance now. This was continuing to prove to be difficult.

❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。❀ • *₊

Day 6

Jungkook is floating on air as he gets through his next work day. So much so Hoseok has taken notice of Jungkook's change in attitude. Really his whole attitude had been different all week. Not that he was particularly grumpy before or even usually in a bad mood, but he was just in a  really good mood. 

It was Friday night, and the familiar hum of the weekend buzzed in the air as Jimin and Taehyung once again convinced Jungkook and Hoseok to come out for a night of fun. Jungkook had been hesitant, his thoughts lingering on you. He’d been so busy lately, and while the dates had been great, there was something about tonight that made him want to see what plans you had before fully committing to the night out. But eventually, he decided he should just go—time with his friends, after all, was good too. Plus, there was that whole bet to think about, and he had a chance to subtly show Jimin and Taehyung how smoothly things were going with you.

When Jungkook and Hoseok arrived at the booth, they were greeted with their usual boisterous energy. Taehyung raised his glass, grinning widely. “Look who it is!” He said, motioning to the empty seats. As they sat down, the drinks flowed easily, and the conversation began to buzz.

However, Jimin and Taehyung had something else on their minds—Jungkook’s unusually good mood. While their conversation about random topics picked up, they were both trying to pinpoint exactly what had changed in him.

“So,” Jimin leaned forward, his voice a bit more teasing than usual, “what’s going on with you tonight? You’ve been, like, way too chill. It’s freaking me out.”

Jungkook paused for a moment, a little taken aback by the sudden observation. “What do you mean?”

Jimin gestured at him with a mock-serious face, “You're usually the one trying to take the night to the next level . Trying to make things more interesting. Tonight, you're just sitting here, all calm, looking like you’re, I don’t know, at peace or something?”

Taehyung chuckled at the thought, leaning in with a grin. “Yeah, what happened to the Jungkook who was out here doing whatever it took to keep things fun and exciting? You usually make sure the whole night has a direction. Right now, you’re, like... engaged in our conversation about cyber-security. That’s... not you.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but he could feel the pressure mounting. He knew his friends had caught on to something, but they didn’t know why he was acting different. “I’m just… having a good day.” His voice light and casual. “Nothing wrong with that, right?”

Hoseok snorted next to him and Jungkook gave him a side eye. 

“You definitely would have gotten someone’s number by now but your eyes have been glued on us or on your phone this whole time.” Taehyung added on, which was usually true but Jungkook was glued to his phone. Hoping maybe he would see another text from you, secretly. Casually, in a totally normal way. 

“So what gives?” Jimin pokes Jungkook in the arm. 

“It’s nothing.” Jungkook shrugged and took a sip of his drink. 

Hoseok rolled his eyes, “It’s Y/N. The girl you set him up with for this stupid bet.” 

“Oh.” It all clicked into place for the both of them but it was still weird, Jimin continues.“She totally see through your act yet?” 

Jungkook was caught off guard, the question cutting deeper than he expected. He shifted in his seat, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. “Actually,” He began, his voice softening, “No. We had a really nice date last night. There is nothing to see through, I’ve been completely genuine.”

“Oh, really?” Jimin raised a skeptical eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips.

Hoseok, who had been mostly observing, finally chimed in with a sigh. “He’s been in such a good mood about it all day, I’ve actually been avoiding him.”

Jungkook shot him a glare, nudging his arm. “So you were dodging me earlier?”

Hoseok shrugged, chuckling. “Sorry, man, I just couldn’t listen to you go on about Y/N again today.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, glancing back at Jimin and Taehyung. “You guys are acting like it’s such a big deal. It’s just… going well.”

Taehyung raised a skeptical brow, his tone a bit annoyed. “So, you’re hitting it off?”

Jungkook smirked, raising his glass. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

That earned a laugh from Jimin and Taehyung. “Yeah, right.” Jimin scoffed, shaking his head.

“All I’m saying,” Jungkook replied, his smirk widening, “is you two better get your wallets ready. In 24 days, you’re going to owe me big time.”

With a final grin, Jungkook set his glass down and excused himself, heading off to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jimin leaned closer to Hoseok, lowering his voice. “Okay, is it actually going well, or is he just messing with us?”

Hoseok took a sip of his drink, letting the suspense hang in the air for a moment before answering. “All I’ll say is… he sent flowers.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped, and Taehyung’s eyes widened. “Flowers?” They exchanged looks of disbelief, struggling to picture Jungkook—who hadn’t done more than text after a night out for years—sending flowers.

“What kind?” Taehyung asked, still dubious. “If they were just roses, it might’ve been for show.”

Hoseok gave an exasperated look. “Sunflowers. They’re her favorite.”

Jimin blinked in disbelief, his jaw still halfway dropped as he processed Hoseok's words. “Sunflowers?” He repeated, as if the specific flower choice made it even more surreal. “You’re telling me Jungkook not only sent flowers but remembered her favorite kind?”

Hoseok nodded, his expression one of mild amusement. “It’s like he’s on some kind of mission. Didn’t even blink when he mentioned it either—used it as his way to get the second date they had this week.”

Taehyung shook his head, laughing under his breath. “I don’t know who this new Jungkook is, but he’s full of surprises. Sunflowers? That’s not just impressive; that’s borderline romantic.”

“Borderline?” Jimin laughed, still trying to wrap his head around it. “He’s gone full-on romance novel, and for someone he’s been seeing for, what, a week? This has to be the longest he’s been interested in anyone, like, ever.”

Taehyung let out a low whistle, chewing on his lip as he processed the surprising information. “Damn. This is serious.”

“Yeah,” Hoseok said with a small smile, finding some pride in a changed Jungkook. “So he’s not wrong when he says you guys are going to owe him. He’s actually putting in the effort.”

Jimin and Taehyung exchanged a look, stunned but slightly impressed. Watching Jungkook send flowers, remember favorites, and put his best foot forward was new—and honestly? They both knew they might just end up eating their own words. Which made them think, was there a way for them to slow this down, make it come to a halt?

It wasn’t an insane amount of money for either of them to lose, but it was much more entertaining to see Jungkook lose. Was there something they could do to mess this up but in a non asshole way?

If they didn’t, Jungkook was going to win the bet, but it had already become much more than a bet at this point for him.

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[sadistic-kitty5601]

I JUST WATCHED THUNDERBOLTS—WHY IS EVERYONE HATING ON JOHN WALKER??! He’s literally so complex and cool, so let’s have passionate, hot sex with him!

Warning!!!—Porn with plot, m!sub John Walker, steamy, buildup—also, sorry for not posting, I haven’t had much passion!😭

You were a merc, a skilled one at that. Your kill count was like no other, being raised in a hardcore camp. It wasn’t like Yelena’s, but quite similar. The brutality, the training—ugh, it was traumatic, to say the least. However, at least it gave some character development? You were strong, independent, understanding, and respected. Your strength was like no other, your speed couldn’t be competed with, and your intelligence couldn’t be outsmarted. Now, you getting to the Thunderbolts was, well, quite a bumpy ride. See, you were in…I guess a little contact with Alexei? You’ve met him on some missions, so he was familiar with you..kinda. So, when he joined the team, he suggested you’d be a great asset—and don’t even get me started on teaching you down and convincing you to be apart of the team..

Anyway, this was how you and THE John Walker met. He was…God, he was just himself—insecure, aggressive, you name it. The team really didn’t like him, though. You never flat out insulted him or made fun of him like Yelena and Ava did…well, okay, maybe you teased him a little—but hey, you kept it real. You weren’t one to take shit, that’s for sure. Any time he’d insult your position, you’d snap back, not with an insult but with a blunt and..honest comment. Yeah, he didn’t like it, but at least he wasn’t being bullied?

In all, y’all’s relationship wasn’t the BEST..you two were often butting heads or bickering over who’s right. You didn’t actually think you cared about each other…right? It’d never come down to that, right?

Welp, Sentry came along and getting thrown around like rag dolls didn’t feel good, neither did The Void randomly coming out.

During the battle, you got hurt..like, really hurt. You had gotten a huge gash on your abdomen—you didn’t even know from what, you were so disoriented from the blood loss. You coughed, holding your stomach as you limped to somewhere you could at least sit at, finding a big concrete slab. You slumped with a grunt. The thoughts flooding your head weren’t good either because you weren’t even concerned for yourself, just..thrown for a loop—“Have I really gotten that weak?”, “What’s happening?”, “Where is everyone?”—Then, your thoughts were interrupted..interrupted by a pair of roughed, panicked hands.

Who was it?

“Stay with me now, Y/N..”

Oh, you know it is. Good ol’ John.

“You’re not exactly—cough..my first choice for rescue..” You rasped out, your eyes trying to adjust as your vision blurred in and out.

“Yeah, well—“ John hurriedly placed his shield on his back, grabbing the field kit on his belt. “—Looks like I’m your only choice,” He pressed some gauze on the wound before wrapping it tightly with bandages. “You’re lucky I got here when I did,” He let out a shaky exhale, applying some firm pressure to the wound.

“You’re only doing this ‘cause I’m an asset..aren’t you?” You grunted in pain, wincing.

That’s when John just looked at you—no, like, REALLY looked at you. There wasn’t that tough mask he always wore, this was raw. His jaw clenched as he stared into your eyes. “No, I’m doing this because I need you to stop bleeding out on me,”

That was real. He wasn’t doing this to get approval, to win some invisible metal—no, he was doing this because he didn’t wanna lose you. You shut up and just..nodded. You got it.

_________________________________________

After everything was settled, things got better. Your wound eventually healed after some treatment and time. And during that time, John was surprisingly a little more careful with you. You’d even see him check up on you, leaning on the doorway. He thought you were asleep, but you weren’t. It was nice. To be honest, it helped you see another side to him, a nicer, more genuine one. You liked it. I mean, I guess you always knew he had a good heart, but this made you really recognize it.

So, you decided to put more effort towards him. You began to sorta change your wording to be a little less harsh—defended him even when things got heated. This, of course, didn’t stop you from still being honest, but now, John appreciated it more. He went to you for advice, returning the favor when you needed some, learning more about each other on a deeper level.

Obviously, y’all’s relationship changed—you got closer, if it wasn’t obvious. The rest of the team, like Alexei, always made little comments on the tension between you two, or jokes on how “close” you both were. It was annoying but you never denied it..neither did he.

_________________________________________

Fast forward to a night later, in the New Avenger tower—

John had PTSD attacks, it was normal. I mean, he’s literally a war soldier and put his whole life and soul into it. On those nights, he couldn’t sleep, so around midnight, he’d begrudgingly get up, walk to the fridge, and eat/drink something. Tonight was one of those nights, sadly.

And as usual, he did his little routine. He dragged himself to the kitchen in his baggy pajama pants and white T-shirt.

John was digging through the fridge, looking at all the bitten and half eaten shit in there, grumbling as he rolled his eyes, tossing a sandwich back in there. Then, he felt a presence. He whipped his head around, already paranoid due to the PTSD. Phew, it was just you. He let out a little sigh, shaking his head while cursing himself under his breath.

“You okay?” You called out, noticing his restless demeanor. “Yeah—..yeah, I’m good,” He cleared his throat, closing the fridge, standing up. “Okay..” You muttered, knowing all too well that he was lying. You walked up next to him. “You don’t gotta lie, y’know..I get it,” You then walked to the light switch, turning on one that dimly lit the kitchen area. John softly grunted, his eyes blinking a few times to adjust to the light. “I know..I just don’t wanna talk about it, alright?” He snapped a little. “Okay, okay,” You put your hands up. “I won’t force you,” You nodded.

John recognized his snappy demeanor, getting more frustrated at himself. “Sorry, Y/N, I just—..” He sighed. “It’s a lot,” You nodded once more in acknowledgement, walking towards him, firmly placing your hands on his shoulders. “John, trust me, I get it. Don’t apologize for something you can’t control, ‘K?” “Okay..” He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in, looking off to the side before looking back at you. “Want me to..rub your shoulders or something?” You offered randomly, raising a brow. Comforting wasn’t your specialty, but you tried. John tilted his head slightly, a little smirk propping up on his lips. “You’d do that?”

“Shut up,”

You sat him down on a chair standing behind him. “Just let me work, alright?” You said, your fingers beginning to gently yet firmly rub into his stiff shoulders. John grunted, his eyebrows furrowing up. “No problem with that..” You continued as you felt his shoulders relax a little under your touch. “Right there,” John said, patting a specific spot on his shoulder. “It’s been giving me all sorts of damn trouble,” You nodded, your knuckles digging into the knot. “Damn, Walker…” You muttered. He must’ve been STRESSED lately. He groaned, nodding. “Oh, yeah, that’s good,” He sighed deeply. As you dug into that one knot, your other hand slid up his neck, your thumb placing pressure in certain areas to find more knots.

The scene was quite sensual—intimate even.

That’s when John felt it. Oh, God not now, not here! Did he seriously just get a hard on? It didn’t register right away, until he actually looked down. He immediately cleared his throat awkwardly, his hand rubbing his partially shaved beard for a second. “Alright, that’s enough,” He said. “What? Did I do something?” You immediately raised a brow. “No—well, yeah, just..” He sighed. He felt quite embarrassed and he hoped to God you wouldn’t notice the tent in his pants. Buuut of course you did, you just had to, right? “Oh..ohhhh..” You nodded, trying not to laugh. “Don’t laugh,” He scoffed, taking a quick glance up at you. “Listen, I just..haven’t felt the touch of a woman like that in a long time..” He admitted in embarrassment.

“No, no,” You let a little chuckle slip. “I’m taking this as a compliment,” “What?” He looked up at you, confused. “Nothing—I’m saying it’s okay,” You shook your head. “No, it’s not,” He persisted as he began to get up, but you suddenly pulled him back down, sitting him down yourself. You yourself were a little caught off guard by your own actions. You paused, a tense silence between you two. What were you doing? “John..” You started, not finishing before just going in and kissing him, your hand holding his jaw, not tight but definitely not soft either. He was surprised, his eyes wide for a moment, before fluttering closed, his hand going up to your wrist, holding it as you two shared a kiss.

You then pulled away. You both panted as you looked at each other with confusion but want. “What are you doing?” He asked. “I don’t know,” You both immediately went back into kissing, this time with some tongue. His cock throbbed—seriously, what was going on?? It’s not like it was out of the blue, just unexpected in the moment. His hand cupped your cheek, his fingers getting in some of your hair. Your hand that was on his jaw slithered to the back of his head.

After less than a minute, you two made it to his room. You hurriedly shut the door, locking it, your breaths heavy. You immediately hopped on him, his body slamming against the bed. As you laid there before John, he couldn’t help but admire you—your beautiful figure, your face. He pulled you back into a deep kiss, then pulled you away. “You’re really okay—“ “Yes,” You immediately responded. He smirked a little at that. “Good,” He began to take off your shirt, you taking off his. You sat right on the tent in his pants, which was QUITE visible. He groaned at that—damn, he missed this. You two got right back at it like animals, kissing each other all over, your tongues having minds’ of their own

You made your way down his neck, trailing kisses as your hands slid down his chest. He let out a shaky breath at that, his hands going to your hips, subconsciously grinding against you. He let out quivering pants and soft groans as you two dry humped each other. “You are so beautiful,” His whispered in your ear, running his fingers through your hair as he kissed your jawline. You hummed, kissing him again, then looked into his eyes. “I’m gonna make you feel like you’ve never felt before,” You said. He gulped, then nodded, kissing you again as his tongue tasted yours.

You then scootched back, pulling down his pants, his cock throbbing against his underwear. He gasped a little from surprise, however, before he could say anything, you came back up, kissing him as you took out his aching cock, giving it a good, slow stroke, squeezing firmly. He immediately moaned in your mouth, quite loudly. This was the first time in a long time anyone besides himself actually touched him, his wife most likely hadn’t touched him in a while before the divorce and such. You slowly—so painfully slow—rubbed his poor tip. His breaths and body were quivering like hell. “You—“ He gulped. “Really know how to work a—mmm~” His eyes almost rolled back for a second as his lips formed a thin line, trying to keep in all the noises as you touched him in all the right ways. “Don’t be shy, make some noise, Captain,” You cooed in his ear, causing a breathy and shaky chuckle from him.

Your thumb rubbed against his frenulum, making him moan. His hand grappled onto your ass for support as his hips bucked up into your hand. “Shouldn’t I be doing something for you?” He asked, already out of breath. Truth be told, he felt a little guilty—you had just given him a massage and now you were massaging him AGAIN, just..in a different way… “No, no, I’ll be getting my fill soon,” You grinned as you stroked his rock hard cock, getting all sorts of pants, groans, and moans from him. You then slid off your own pants, him staring at your sexy body once more, his dick twitching at the sight as he sat up on his elbows. You took off your panties, throwing them alongside y’all’s other clothing. “I’m gonna ride the fuck outta you, solider,” You bluntly said as you adjusted yourself on top of him. All he could do was simply nod—“Jesus..” He muttered. Those were some hot, bold words he’d never heard before.

Once you were comfortable, you sat down on his throbbing cock—not all the way, but enough to engulf the tip. You shakily sighed while John moaned, his hand going to your thigh, gripping it while his eyes closed. God, he missed that feeling, so warm and wet—tight. You then sat down all the way with a groan. “Oh my God, you feel so good..” He tried to regain some composure, breathing in through his nose and out his mouth, opening his eyes to look up at you. “You feel good, too…” You leaned down to kiss him, he accepted. You began to steadily move up and down on the dick. His breath hitched as he felt your perfect, wet pussy begin to ride him. “You enjoying yourself?” You teased. “Yes..” John said as his eyes shut once more, relishing in the feeling as he gripped your ass.

You hummed as you slid your hips up and down, feeling his cock rub against your wet walls. John shakily panted as he tried to hold back loud noises. “You think you can handle a faster pace?” You asked impatiently. He quickly nodded. “Yes—yes, please..” You began to bounce on his cock, a light clapping noise being heard. “Mmmmm…” He groaned as he bit his lip, his eyebrows furrowing. “You feel fucking amazing, Y/N…” He whispered, his hands roaming all over you, burying his face in your neck. Your hand went into his hair, gripping it slightly as you lightly kissed his ear. “Who knew..” You said as you swallowed down a moan. “Uh-huh—Oh~” He groaned slightly, his hands residing to gripping your hips as you bounced on his cock. “God, you are so hard..” You strained, breathing heavily. “Hard for you..” He whispered back, getting a chuckle out of you. You clenched down on him, earning a louder moan from him. “Fuck—keep squeezing me like that—“ His breath hitched, his hands natural guiding your pace.

“You like that?” You breathily moaned out. “Fuck, yes,” He groaned back. “When you said—groan—you were gonna ride the fuck outta me—ah~..When exactly are you gonna follow through with that?” You raised a brow, smirking. “I forget you’re a super soldier sometimes..” You laid him down, adjusted yourself—then slammed down! You bounced on his cock, rolling your hips as you went as rough as you wanted…which was rough. He yelped, gripping the sheets as he moaned and groaned out. “I—I forget—God!..Forget..how strong you are~…” He manage quiver out as his eye rolled back slightly. The bed with squeaking and creaking quite loud, shaking even—no doubt you could wake up everyone else in the tower with how loud y’all were being. “C’mon—ah—be as loud as you want, Captain!” You urged on, as you repeatedly slammed and clenched down on his poor cock. That got a loud moan out of him, his hands desperately reaching out for you. Yeah, he was a super soldier, but he hadn’t had sex, let alone good sex, in A WHILE.

You two lost the last bit of control you had the closer you got. He was bucking up into you, you were slamming down on him, somewhat trying to control y’all’s volume…but you were still quite loud. The more immersed you got the less you cared. “Fuuuck, I’m close—I’m close, Y/N—stop, stop—“ He groaned out, not being able to stop himself. “Fuck no, we’re continuing this—I can pull out,” You responded, out of breath. “What? A-Are you sure?” He moaned as he felt you clench around him, the knot he felt beginning to get tighter. “Yes—yes, let’s just keep fucking!” You moaned as you got closer. “God—yes!” He panted, his abs flexing as he tensed. The bed creaking and moving a little—it’s a surprise how it hasn’t broken yet—the clapping sounds were loud as hell too now, the sweat dripping off y’all’s bodies creaking suction, and the noises you two were making made it all too intense. “I’m—I’m cumming—FUCK!” You two shouted, you quickly pulling off as the ropes of hot, thick sperm squirted out his cock and the wetness oozed out of your pussy, you two moaning loud, holding each other tightly, eyes rolled back, bodies completely tensed. That had to be one of the most intense orgasms either one of you ever had. After a good couple of minutes, you guys gained some consciousness back, trembling and breathing hard.

“Oh, my God..”

“Oh, my God..”

_________________________________________

The next morning, after everyone was awake and after you two freshened up, everyone sat around.

Bob was eating cereal, you were drinking coffee, as well as Yelena and Ava, while Alexei and John ate an actual breakfast. The silence was unusually loud, until—“Y’know, you could at least be quiet,” Yelena said bluntly, giving you and John a look. John immediately looked away, clearing his throat. “Yeah! You sounded like two ferocious lions! Not like we didn’t see it coming..” Alexei laughed at you two. “At first I thought you were training..and then I heard it..” Bob frowned sighing. “I didn’t know John could even pull a lady like that,” Ava said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Alright, alright—that’s enough!” John said, embarrassed.

That whole day…and possibly every day from now on, they teased you for it. Was it worth it, though? HELL YES.

[angel5ofp0rn]

idk, just a thought 😋

141 x Drunk!Reader / Jealous!Ghost x Drunk!Reader

TW: implied drunk sex

(idk what’s up with me and making the reader drunk all the time ???)

also idk i just like the idea of Soap being a perv and Ghost being a fuckin weirdo 🫣

You didn’t expect the guys to actually give a shit about your birthday... Maybe it was just the excuse to drink.

Still, you couldn't deny that you loved seeing the squad out of uniform and all dressed up for the night.

You even put on a little skirt and low-cut top, curled your hair and wore makeup for the first time in months.

Price bought you your first drink just as a 'happy birthday, kiddo', but it didn't stop there.

Soap got you a few shots and Gaz let you sip from his drinks throughout the night.

You were feeling pretty buzzed by the time you convinced some of the guys to move to the dance floor.

Ghost watched quietly from his spot at the bar across the room. You expected as much.

The two of you have been keeping your distance; you were basically still strangers, apart from the random glances you give each other during training.

Ghost thought of at least saying happy birthday to you, but he wasn’t sure how to go about it.

He wasn’t exactly an affectionate man. Wasn’t great at showing his feelings.

Feelings? The fuck was he thinking?

You’re just nice to look at, that’s all.

It was strange seeing you with your hair curled and your skin showing, almost like a real woman. He had a nagging thought that if the guys weren’t around, he would've gone over to you.

You and Soap are on the dance floor, you tipsy and swaying while he holds your waist, keeping you steady as he mumbled something close to your ear.

"I don't think so." You muse, looking up at Soap. He had asked if Price was watching the two of you, knowing Price has a tendency to act like a father towards you especially. "Why?"

Soap took a moment before he spoke again, the alcohol clearly getting to him. His words were becoming more and more slurred throughout the night, although he still had that Scottish accent mixed it that kept him sounding charming... though almost unintelligible.

"Y'know yer beautiful, aye? An' th' lads, they've been eyein' ya for the whole night. 'Course ol' Price, he's been' tryin' to keep us from gettin' yer attention… But even Ghost! Ghost thinks yer fuckin’ gorgeous.”

"Ghost thinks that?" You tried to focus your eyes on Soap’s, fighting the alcohol.

Soap leaned in even close now, his breath smelling like strong liquor. He even placed his hand on the small of your back, right above your skirt as he spoke again.

"Oh, aye. But we all do… I do."

You giggled at that. Soap's arm wrapped tightly around your waist now, pulling you chest to chest and murmuring more drunken ramblings into your ear.

You quickly forgot what Soap mentioned about Ghost.

But Ghost was still watching.

He watched the way Soap leaned in to whisper in your ear, the cocky smirk on his face, how dangerously close his hand was to your ass.

He watched you drape your arms around Soap’s neck, eyelids heavy. He watched how your eyes wouldn’t focus on Soap’s eyes; they kept darting down to his lips.

Ghost didn’t watch to watch anymore.

“The steamin’ hell’r you doin’, LT!” Soap calls after Ghost as the masked man grabs your arm and drags you off.

“Let me go!” You groan, trying to pull away from his grip. When that didn’t work, you tried to stomp his toes.

No use, he had those fucking steel toes on as usual. After more ignored pleas, you resorted into trying to drop to the floor like a sack of potatoes; like an unruly toddler.

Ghost didn’t miss a beat. He easily scooped you up and slung you over his shoulder as he head towards the bar’s exit.

The second he set you back to your feet outside on the pavement you tried to shove him.

Stupid idea, really. Fucker didn’t budge.

“What is your problem?” You glare at him.

“My problem?” Ghost’s voice was low. “You were about to let MacTavish feel you up in front of everyone in there.”

“Who cares if Soap and I have a bit of fun? What, are you jealous or something?” You groan.

“Of course I am!”

You froze. Your eyes locked in with his.

“You’re… jealous?” You ask again, softer this time.

You can see the subtle movement of Ghost’s jaw clenching beneath his balaclava.

“You’re drunk.” Ghost states. “You should get back to base and sleep it off.”

He’s right, of course. But you don’t listen.

You don’t fully realize you’re doing it, but you reach your hand up and touch his face.

Well, his mask.

Ghost’s breath hitches, and he thinks of swatting your hand away but he doesn’t. He lets your cup his face. Caress his jaw. Rub your thumb over the fabric covering his lips.

He even lets you pull him in closer, lets you get just an inch away from touching noses before he speaks again.

“I cant kiss you.”

You finally come back to earth, your drunken mind suddenly sobering.

“Oh.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, both silent. Both unsure of what happens now.

“Guess I’ll just go-”

“I want to.” Ghost speaks again. “I would like to.”

“Okay…”

“But I can’t.” His huge arms cross as he looks down at up. For something so genuine, he’s saying it as if it’s a threat.

“Right…” You nod slowly, your drunken brain trying its best to gauge what’s happening. “So..?”

“I can’t have you flirting with MacTavish.” He practically growls. “He doesn’t want more than a quick fuck.”

You frown at this, eyebrows lowering into a scowl.

“So you won’t kiss me, but I can’t flirt with anyone else?”

“Yes.” Ghost acts as if this was common sense.

“‘s’not fair.” You roll your eyes. “You can’t do that t’me.”

“Well, I am.”

“Are not.” You challenge. You push past him and re-enter the bar, leaving him outside and alone.

“Bonnie!” Soap calls you over as soon as he sees you.

He’s sat at a table with a bunch of other men that you don’t recognize. He pats his thigh, inviting you to have a sit on his lap.

Ghost’s warning still fresh in your head makes you hesitate.

But who is he to tell you who you can and can’t flirt with? He doesn’t even talk to you.

You try not to stumble as you make your way towards Soap, accepting the invite to sit on his lap. His arm instantly wraps around your waist, holding you in place.

“Didn’t know you had a barracks bunny.” One of the men snickers as he looks you over.

You frown, looking to Soap, waiting for him to correct them. To explain that you’re actually on the squad- no, the best sniper on the squad. An asset to the team, really.

Instead, Soap laughs along with the rest of them, giving your thigh a squeeze. “Nah, nah. ’m keepin’ this bunny all to m’self.”

You had to have heard him wrong, right? Maybe it was the alcohol affecting your hearing.

Before you could defend yourself, you felt Soap’s hand sliding up your thigh, slipping under your skirt.

Your face is burning. The guys all laugh. You feel sick.

Flirting and kissing is one thing… Soap treating you like a sex toy is another.

“Soap, stop.” You mumble, pushing his hand away.

Soap gives you a wink. He thinks you’re playing some sort of game here. His hand starts to creep up your bare thigh again. His lips press against your neck.

“I said stop!” You stand up and shove him by his chest, admittedly harder than you intended to.

Soap landed on his back on the dirty bar floor, his face a mix of pissed off and confused.

Price was by your side immediately, pulling you away from the table as Gaz helped Soap to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Price, I just-“

“I’ve got you a cab outside. Get your ass back to base and sleep it off.” Price barked.

Sober you could handle commands and threats like they were nothing.

Drunk you started tearing up immediately.

Price mumbled something that sounded like ‘for fuck’s sake, kid’ as you turned and walked outside.

Ghost was still outside, balaclava lifted so he could smoke a cigarette.

You didn’t notice him as you slid into the back seat of the cab, but he saw you.

Then he saw Soap and Price exiting the bar one your cab took off.

He watched calmly, smoking as normal while Price stood with his foot on the side of Soap’s head/face, Soap’s cheek pressed against the pavement.

He couldn’t hear what they were fighting about and frankly he didn’t care. He wondered if any of it had been the cause of your teary eyes.

•••

You lift your face off of your pillow and squint at the caller ID as your phone rang.

You’d only been back in your room for about an hour at this point and you’ve been trying to battle the spins.

You swipe to answer the call, smushing your face back into the pillow and closing your eyes again.

“H’llo?”

“Make it back to base okay, kiddo?” Price’s stern, gruff voice came through the speaker

“Mhm.” You mumble your response.

“Good. Sorry about MacTavish; drunken Scot can’t handle his alcohol…” Price sighs. “He’ll be dealt with in the morning.”

“s’okay.” You nod even though he can’t see it.

“You sure you’re alright then?”

“Mhm…”

Price exhaled a deep breath. “Get some shut eye. I'll be seeing you at 0530 sharp for PT."

"Yes sir. Love you."

You didn't fully realize that you told Price that you love him as if you were speaking to your dad.

Price was quiet for a second before his tone subtly shifted to sounding more gentle. "Love you too, kid. I'll see you at five-thirty."

You end the call and force yourself to sit up despite your still tipsy state. You knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep with everything on your mind.

Well… with Ghost on your mind.

You call him next, not really expecting him to answer at all. He kind of doesn’t; there’s no voice on the other end, but you could tell he was there.

“Ghost?”

“Yeah.”

“So- Why… why didn’t you kiss me?” You stand up off of the bed and pace your room. More like stumble around your room.

“Can’t.”

“But why?” You groan. “Is it because of Price?”

“We work together.”

“So?” You find a hoodie and pull it on over your going out clothes. “That didn’t stop Soap.”

Silence.

“And I… I really wanted you to, y’know? And… I think I said ‘love you’ to Price. Y’think he’ll be mad at me?” You start kicking your heels off.

“…you told Price that you love him?”

You kind of giggle at that, hearing it back. “No, I didn’t tell him I love him. I just said ‘love you’ to him.”

You think you hear Ghost snort at that. “Are we done here?”

“Well, no…”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to open your door.”

Ghost doesn’t speak. You look around the hall to make sure none of the guys would see you.

“Please?”

The call ends. Ghost slowly opens his door and peers at you from the small open space.

You look up at him, messy hair and mascara smudged under your eyes. Your hoodie covered most of your outfit and you were barefoot.

“You look ridiculous.”

“Can I come in?” You ignore his comment.

Ghost hesitates but he does step aside and let you into his room.

It was so dark in his room that you almost didn’t notice that he was maskless. Too bad you couldn’t see him better.

You didn’t really know what you planned on doing now that you were in his room… You honestly didn’t think he’d let you get this far.

Ghost’s hand touched your face. His thumb wiped under your eyes, attempting to fix your makeup.

The gesture was considerate though you knew he was just making the smudge bigger.

“I can’t kiss you.” Ghost repeated his words from earlier, but this time it was softer. More gentle.

You shook your head.

“We don’t have to kiss.”

[izumiphoenix]

The Truth Behind the Mask

(1/? part of “Astarion: In Search of True Self” — [masterpost here])

Even before I played, I kept stumbling upon Astarion fanart and memes that made me assume he was just some overrated character who was only popular because of his flirty, sassy attitude (I’m so sorry Q^Q). That’s why I didn’t have the best first impression even before I started.

And even in-game, when you first meet him, Astarion seems like a shallow, selfish and flirty guy - someone who doesn’t really care what others think and just follows his whims.

Couldn’t be further from the truth!

From what I’ve seen in some discussions on social media, though, a lot of players still hold that first impression - even after completing his route. I’ve even seen people call him a red flag, label him evil or say they were disappointed in general.

Also, I feel like most guides (at least the ones I’ve come across) simplify his character too much - mainly focusing on which choices will gain his approval or disapproval. Maybe that’s to avoid spoilers, but still. There are definitely other players who see the deeper layers too - so this is just my way of sharing my personal journey of discovering the real Astarion.

So, how did that first impression start to unravel? When checking with the guide and watching his reactions and body language, I started thinking about why the approval/disapproval tips work.

How Approval Looks on the Surface

Let’s look at some general tips for gaining Astarion’s approval points: 

choosing evil replies/actions 

seeking power 

siding with evil characters 

deceiving your opponents  

supporting his desires  

being understanding and accepting towards him 

(bonus one, haven’t seen guides mention this) sarcastic replies  

And disapproval points: 

making pompous heroic statements (like “Worry not! I shall save everyone!”) 

helping the weak 

being open about your party's situation (tadpoles)

being judgmental or unsupportive towards him  

naive/goodie-two-shoes responses  

In most cases, it is explained by his natural inclination towards evil forces and power, making Astarion seem like a self-centred and power-hungry vampire who might, with Tav’s influence, turn to become a bit of a better person. Or not. 

But while it’s technically true that those actions affect his approval, there’s much more nuance to why Astarion reacts the way he does - especially in the early stages.

So what's really going on?

The first contradiction that made me feel confused about the reasons for Astarion’s reactions was how nice Tav is being to him (of course, if you chose good replies during their interactions) – a person who is mean to everyone else would be just as mean to Astarion. It didn’t make sense to me; a kind and understanding Tav would fit much better in the story.  

So what is going on there? Why does Astarion need a kind and gentle Tav who is cold and dismissive to the rest of the world?

Because he is terrified.  

When we first meet our pale elf, he has just escaped (as in been kidnapped) from 200 years of slavery, humiliation and torture where his wellbeing completely depended on Cazador’s whims and every mistake meant punishment. Of course he’s paranoid. Of course he’s always calculating risk. 

It’s not about Tav’s choices being good or evil, it’s about their possible consequences for Astarion. He doesn’t want Tav to be evil, he just wants to feel safe. That’s all.  

Let’s Look at That List Again

So let’s look at his approval/disapproval list again: 

refusing to help someone - approve! we don’t want to risk 

seeking power - yes, please! power means safety!

siding up with evil characters - they are strong, so why not use this to our benefit? 

deceiving your opponents - we didn’t even have to fight and got want we wanted? don’t see a problem  

supporting his desires - maybe this time, I won’t have to fight for what I want

being understanding and accepting towards him - finally someone doesn't treat me as a monster

sarcasm - humor is our everything, especially when there’s nothing else left 

On the other hand:

making pompous heroic statements - you are saying these cringe things with a straight face AND putting us in danger? hard nope! 

helping the weak - no one helped me, why should we bother 

disclosing truth about their situation - have you heard about caution?!  

being judgmental or unsupportive towards him - no thanks, had enough of that

naive/goodie-two-shoes responses - are we going to be fine with a leader like that?..  

What Kind of Tav Does He Need?

Astarion isn’t looking for an "evil" Tav - he’s looking for safety. Well, technically, he isn’t looking for anyone at all. But the kind of Tav he opens up to tends to be:

pragmatic, cautious and clever

emotionally intelligent

non-judgmental

strong enough to lead and survive

That’s why he feels comfortable with a Tav who might choose to be distant toward strangers but treats him with consistent care. In this context it’s not suspicious, it’s sensible. He doesn’t expect help from the world, and he respects those who understand that reality. In a hostile world, survival is more likely in a group, so he clings to the party and tries to secure his place using the only tools he knows: charm, wit and usefulness. And a part of that strategy, making sure the leader favors him and he won’t be cast aside, leads to his initial approaches for Tav. But we’ll get into that more in another post.

So if Tav shows kindness to him? That’s exactly what he’s aiming for. And it doesn’t even matter that much if they still go out of their way to help others - because if the care they show him feels real, that already shifts something deep inside. That already gives him a reason to start hoping that this might be real.

The Mask

So there’s the charm, the flirtation, the flair for drama. Some players may read that as shallow or even foolish. But it’s not. It’s a mask - one he’s worn so well and for so long that it feels real. It’s what kept him alive under Cazador for the last 200 years.

But if you keep going, if you give him time and space to feel safe, you start to see it slip. The closer Tav gets to him, the more glimpses we get of his real self - thoughtful and warm, wary and sharp, sometimes silly and awkward, and, beneath it all, deeply hurt. And if you stay with him through to the end, when he finally feels safe enough to stop performing, his whole demeanor changes. He’s calmer. More grounded. Still witty - but in a different way.

Still Astarion. Just more himself.

<next part>

<back to masterpost>

[lostinlads]

Meet The Leader Of Onychinus

Synopsis: After days of being locked up in the base of the man wo had taken you from your home, you finally are summoned to meet him. Little do you know it is so much worse than you imagined. You're in the base of the criminal organization, Onychinus.

Tags: sylus x femme!reader, MDNI IF YOU ARE A MINOR YOU WILL BE BLOCKED, mc is really going through it, mentions of guns, mentions of kidnapping, your first few days at onychinus, sylus is rough with you, angst, hurt no comfort

Words: 2.7k

an: Firstly i want to thank all of you for how much love this fic has gotten so far, i honestly didnt expect any of this so im kinda in shock??? But really, thank you. Ive been sitting on this idea for a little over a month now and im finally getting around to working it out for all of you!! but i hope you enjoy this chapter! its a tad longer than the first, once i find my footing in writing again maybe ill make them longer but this is what i worked up for now!! Also as always if you see any mistakes please let me know!

ao3 | Chapter List | kofi

The N109 Zone has kept you in near complete darkness for days. You didn't know how long you spent in this room, door locked from the outside, no way to leave; but it felt like a lifetime already. You were grateful for the ensuite bathroom, the sink enough to satisfy your thirst, but the small amount of food left for you on the desk was a reminder that it was just enough to keep you alive. A small box of crackers and a handful of granola bars didn't satisfy the hunger in your stomach. 

Sleep has eluded you, no matter how much you tried, it barely came. When it did, you were restless - tossing and turning for a few hours until you rose again. Dreams filled with terrifying crimson eyes and vast darkness. The constant blackness didn't help, not knowing the time of day or how long you had been here made your unease crawl under your skin. Your time spent by laying around and watching out the window for any signs of anything, but everything stayed still.

The house had been quiet, soft shuffling of the maid could be heard through the door at times, but other than that there was nothing. Were you the only one here? Where did the twins and that man go? Maybe the thought of leaving you here to starve to death hadn't been too extreme, seeing that no one had come to check on you since the moment you arrived. Kieran and his twin tossing your bag in the room and shutting it tight behind you, the unmistakable sound of the lock latching closed.

You often found yourself imagining what would've happened if you were strong enough to fight back, strong enough to get away from the entire situation. How could this have happened? Your father? The only family you have, selling you off to a criminal for payment. It didn't feel real. If things had been different, if you had gotten away, maybe you'd be somewhere else by now. Hiding out in the depths of Linkon, or maybe at the beach. 

A single sharp knock brought your mind back, your heart speeding up in your chest as you stand from the plush bed. The door unlocked and opened; familiar crow masks meet your gaze as they both stand in the doorway.

"Boss wants to see you now," One spoke, stepping forward into the room. The wide space receding at his presence, shrinking the room by tenfold as your hands shake. Reluctantly, you step forward, surrendering yourself to them to take you to their boss. His hand curls around your arm as he leads you out, his twin mirroring his actions. They lead you through the massive house, warm, dim light illuminating the halls as you pass. The thought occurs, that it wouldn't matter if they held you, you wouldn't make it out of this maze of a building alone. 

Rounding a corner, you are pulled down a long hallway. A brilliant, massive door stands before you, intricate wood carvings dance up the length like vines. Two brass door handles twinkle in the dim light, glistening like a prize. But beyond that door, whatever was waiting for you, is anything but. 

With each step, you could feel his presence looming - his power consuming. If only you could run, save yourself from the torture you were about to endure. The anticipation eating you alive, steeling you for any abuse about to come.

The twins reach out, hands curling around both handles before swinging the wide, heavy doors open.

If it hadn't been a few sconces on the wall, barely illuminating the room, you would've guessed it had been abandoned. But at the far end, a chair sat, large enough to be called a throne. And perched on it, with crossed legs and his head in his hand, the man who had taken you from your home. From your life. 

Candlelight flickered over his strong features; you couldn't make out if he was pissed or simply bored. You didn't want to find out. But caught like his prey, you were immobilized, arms wrapped in two strong hands holding them firmly at your sides. Is this what it feels like to be a hare, staring down the throat of a looming wolf, about to be consumed? You wouldn't doubt if he could hear your beating heart from across the room, the way his eyes stayed glued to your form. 

"You can go," You flinch, the deep voice echoing in the large space. Within a second the hands drop from you, the twins turning and leaving. You didn't watch them, couldn't even lift your head from the floor. Stay still, stay quiet. Stay complicit and maybe you would survive this.

Silence so deafening as the room settles around the two of you, his eyes burning holes into your flesh as neither of you move. Was he waiting for you? Were you supposed to speak? You ball your fists at your side, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath. The feeling of dread never leaving, maybe this is where you die? He had his fun, leaving you to go insane as you stayed locked away, now this is his real show. Ripping you apart, shooting you, stabbing you. Anything. 

"Apologies for my lack of manners," He finally spoke, his words feeling like a blow to your stomach as you breathe out. You don't meet his gaze, eyes still screwed shut. "I had some... business to attend to for a few days. But now that I have returned," He pauses, something touches you and you jump, eyes flinging open as you see tendrils of red and black mist curl around you before locking around your wrists, drawing them together in a bruising grip. You cry out, a soft mewl as you try to pull away. "We have some business to attend to ourselves."

"I... Please, I'll do anything just don't hurt me," You whimper out, tears already threatening to leave your tired eyes. You look at him, finally. Seeing those blood red eyes on you again brought a chill down your spine. 

"Then don't make me," His words matter of fact. He dropped his hand from his head as his other rose up, more mist shooting across the room before it tightened around your waist. Next thing you know you're being pulled across the room at lightning speed, your hair flying behind you as the air gets knocked from your lungs. You prepare for impact, maybe a wall or a floor, but it never comes. You're delicately placed on his lap, strong thighs under yours as you blink, trying to understand what happened. Your wrists are still bound, the grip of the mist never wavering. 

"Please..." You whisper again, wanting this cat and mouse game to end. Just get it over with, for him to stop toying with you. You almost don't see it, a small tick of his lips upward in a smirk for just a second. 

"I need to make sure you won't disobey me," He leans back, resting in his throne as if this is the most normal situation in the world. "I know your power; how strong it can be. How strong you can make me." A crease forms between his brows.

"Y-yes," You stutter out, a tear slipping from your eye. 

"I have got to say, Kitten," He smirks again at the nickname, your gut turning in response. "If I train you right, you will be my most powerful weapon." His hand comes up, you flinch away, eyes closing as you turn your head waiting for a blow. But his long fingers brush against your cheek, tucking your hair behind your ear. 

"But," He speaks again. "I don't know if I can trust you yet." His words lower to a whisper, the closeness and how quiet his voice became felt like this whole scene was more intimate than you wanted. He was toying with you, you knew this. Kneading you like dough before tossing you in the oven to bake you alive. Trust? You? He could kill you without thought and he is worried about trusting you? Maybe he is planning on whipping you to submission, breaking you to the point you can no longer do anything but be used by him. The though made you want to puke. You needed to think, work a plan to lessen your sentence in this hell so the pain wouldn't be so bad.

"Maybe you could trust me if I can trust you in return," You try your hardest to speak with confidence. He cocks an eyebrow at you, tilting his head slightly. "I mean," Your words rush out, grasping at anything to delay the inevitable. "I don't even know your name..." You whisper out. He laughs, his hot breath fanning over your face.

"You can call me Sylus."

"Sylus," You repeat, nodding your head once.

"And I'm the leader of Onychinus," He watched in amusement as the realization washed over you, the candlelight flickering off of his features making his face look like some kind of monster. Face dropping as your pulse quickened at that one word. Onychinus. The most dangerous criminal organization in the N109 Zone. And here you were, caught in the trap of the leader, sitting on his lap at his base. The nausea returned, your stomach turning as your mouth flooded with saliva. There really was no hope for you, you were royally fucked. 

"O-Onychinus," You breathe out, your vision tunneling as your pulse pounded in your veins. Sylus's lips curled up in an evil smile, his eyes dancing between yours.

"That's right, Kitten. That Onychinus." You try to swallow, the lump in your throat so large you almost choke. "Your - lovely - father had been playing too many games down in The N109 Zone and found himself in the palm of my hand." He held out his large hand, as if to demonstrate. "Having the right-hand man to the mayor of Linkon as your client is only as useful as any lowlife is. But the more money he owed the more I got fed up with is useless promises and his pathetic excuses. But luckily, he offered me you." His fingers curl into his palm, except his index which he pointed at your chest. "And that ticking little bomb in your chest." Almost as if on cue, your heart sped impossibly faster as he tapped on it twice. 

"So," He pulled away, leisurely resting back in the chair. "I don't really care if you trust me. I just need to make sure that you don't get any silly ideas of escaping or trying to take me down from the inside out. I own you now, there's no where you can run to, Kitten." He looked away, boredom coating his features again as his eyes trailed past you. You couldn't do anything other than stare at his haunting face. How could you run? The leader of Onychinus surely had more surveillance than you could ever imagine. And taking him down? You barely had enough energy to even sit here.

"I won't," You promise weakly, your words a breathless whisper as your eyes stay trained on his face. Your fists ball, muscles tensing against the tight ring of mist. The pressure straining against your pulse.

His eyes drift back to yours, a hand lifting from the arm of the chair. You watch more of the black and red smoke flow from thin air. It grazes your arm; you fight against a wince as it trails down to your still conjoined wrists. The link holding them together snaps as the tendril loops around one, firm but not suffocating like before. It lifts it, hand facing the ceiling as it continues to coil around your skin like a snake. Even though you wanted to, you couldn't deny how sensual the act felt. 

"Let's try something, then," Sylus purrs, sending a shiver down your spine and drawing your eyes back to his face. His intense gaze flickering between your eyes as the corner of his lips draw up into a smirk. The confused heart in your chest sped faster, at the anticipation or how intimate the setting has become? You weren't sure. 

His long fingers traced up your inner forearm, gliding up to your wrist in a delicate touch as goosebumps rose in its wake, drawing a gasp from your lips. You watch as Sylus's fingers push yours open, splayed wide before his thread through yours. 

HIs words ring in your ears from days prior. He doesn't do that. But here he is now, you nestled on his large thighs as his hand intwines with yours. Maybe it had been a front, a shoe so no one knows what he really does with his toys.

But to your surprise his hand tightens, an almost crushing grip before you feel the all too familiar pull of your evol. Power being pulled from deep inside your core as he tries to draw it out. But your head swirled, blood rushing as you cry out.

"Stop, please," You cry, trying to pull your hand from his. The grip only tightened as the crease between his brows returned with a scowl. 

"Not so fast," He gritted between his teeth. Sylus pushes harder, eyes closing in an attempt to focus on waking your evol. White, hot pain bloomed in your throbbing head, making a sob rip from your chest.

"I c-can't! Please, Sylus, I can't!" You plead out again, your free hand coming to cradle your skull. His eyes snap open, washing over your features before letting your hand fall with a scoff. 

"You're lucky I don't like picking on the weak, Kitten," He seethed. Your eyes screw shut, other hand coming to your head as you try your hardest to will the pain away. Your body weak with hunger and exhaustion, you didn't care if he killed you for not resonating with him, you almost hoped he would, anything to stop this burning pain.

Sylus shifted under you, but you didn't care, praying he was reaching for a gun to end this never-ending nightmare. But a minute later the tendrils enveloped you again. The feeling of Sylus's thighs left you as your body was placed onto the hard, cold floor. 

He didn't speak, you don't know if he was sitting and watching you writhe in pain or focused on another point in the room. Wishing you were a stronger person, you'd curse him out, spit in his face and scream at him for causing you so much pain. But the only thing you could manage was a weak sob.

The twin heavy doors sounded behind you; two boot clad footsteps grew louder until they stopped next to you.

 "Take her to her room. We're done here," Sylus spoke, his voice cold as stone.

"Yes, Boss," The twins obeyed, their hands returning around your arms slowly lifting you from the floor to your feet. you couldn't help but note that their touch was cautious, almost caring, as they paused to help you figure out your footing.

Once steady, they lead you down the winding, confusing maze that was the base of Onychinus in silence until you reach the door that contained your prison cell. Kieran releases your arm as he steps forward, clasping the knob before opening the door.

If his twin hadn't been holding onto you, you would've collapsed at the sight before you. Large boxes lined the room, a few smaller ones resting on the plush bed. If it hadn't been for the dove plush sitting atop of one, you wouldn't know what the contents would be. But you remember that same dove sitting on your bed at home. These were your things, your beloved belongings. A splash of color against the dim, dark area you had spent your last days. A sense of familiarity, a sense of home. Safety.

Kieran's twin lets you go, your feet wasting no time to move beneath you, drawing you further into the room. Your shaking hands reach out, reaching or the dove, almost needing to confirm that this is real. Your hands grasp it, not wasting any time to pull it to your heaving chest as a soft, relieved sob slips past your lips. You turn around and face the two masked men watching from the doorway.

"Thank you," Two simple words fall from your mouth, but they nod, understanding before they shut the door, leaving you some peace. 

Knees hitting the wooden floor beneath you as you collapse. Uncontrollable sobs shaking out of your weak body.

[bliss-in-the-void]

My actual canonical interpretation of SatoSugu?

I believe they were the bestest of friends, inseparable soul mates who were mutually in love with each other, but never confessed the depth of their feelings, never discussed their relationship, and never actually made anything out of it.

I believe that Suguru had a massive crush on Satoru throughout their high school years. Satoru was more dense on the other hand and did love Suguru but didn’t know how to place his feelings exactly. Suguru was always by his side and that was enough, he felt secure, so why look into it deeper?

After the trauma from the Star Plasma Vessel mission, Suguru was heartbroken that Satoru left him alone a lot. He missed Satoru and spiraled, self-isolated, started becoming obsessed with his own self-talk about ‘monkeys’ and ‘creating a new world with sorcerers only’. He and Satoru both became self-absorbed. Suguru lost that crush and admiration he had for Satoru even though he still loved him. He wanted his own goals more. So he left.

The second he left, I bet that’s when Satoru realized what Suguru meant to him. That’s probably one of the reasons that Satoru is stuck in the past, because he finally placed his feelings for Suguru, realized he was in love with him, and kept replaying those moments they had together, realizing he never noticed Suguru sending signals, mad at himself for never noticing. He regretted it so badly that he just couldn’t stop living in the past with Suguru. If he’d just paid attention, if he noticed Suguru’s signals, his spiraling, maybe he could have stopped it.

That moment where Suguru returns to the high school to declare war only to leave again, when Satoru watches and watches, (according to the JJK 0 Light Novel) his “eyes kept following the shape of Geto’s soul”. He couldn’t look away. He was filled with so much regret. His entire creed is to raise strong sorcerers together so that no one has to be alone the way Suguru and he ended up.

And when the time came for him to kill Suguru, because last words are so important to him, he finally told Suguru what he should have told him when they were high schoolers. “I love you.”

Suguru, who’d long buried those feelings, probably realized that the things he’d told himself about how Satoru viewed him were wrong. This whole time, Satoru really did love and trust him still. That’s why he smiled. He was loved in return.

“You should at least curse me a little at the end.”

He wishes Satoru would have hated him because now he’s filled with regret. If only they’d had talked sooner, none of this would have happened. Suguru had always placed emphasis on ‘found family’. We see this when he calls Kuroi “Riko’s family” and when he adopts Mimiko and Nanako, as well as the rest of the sorcerers/curse users he rounds up for the Night Parade of 1,000 Demons. With that said, I know for a fact that when they were in high school, he saw Satoru as his family. He saw him as home, as safety, as love.

Really, the only time that he and Satoru aren’t putting on some sort of act is when they’re alone together. It’s strange to see the two of them so serious, especially Satoru, who deflects with humor like his life depends on it. But it’s fitting. They’re just comfortable around each other, there’s no need for masks. They never even seriously raised their hands against each other, nor fatally hurt each other’s family/students.

Now, fast-forward to a year later in Shibuya, when Kenjaku uses the love Satoru and Suguru have for each other against Satoru. How does he know seeing Suguru would have such a drastic effect on Satoru that it would immobilize him completely? Did he watch from afar? Did he keep tabs on them? Or did he see Suguru’s memories somehow? Could he feel how Suguru felt when around Satoru? I’d like to think it was both—Kenjaku kept tabs on them before Suguru died, and gained access to his memories after taking him over.

He even knew the tone Suguru used to use for Satoru’s name. The soft way he called his name. He knew the only thing in the entire world that could stop the strongest sorcerer in modern times was using the love of his life against him.

The smile Satoru had when he thought it was Suguru makes me believe that the only thing he wanted was to see him again.

Then, when he realized it wasn’t him, Kenjaku said “how sad, you don’t recognize me?”

As if to say Suguru would be devasted that Satoru didn’t recognize him. Kenjaku knows how Suguru feels about Satoru.

Then Satoru calls him on his bs and he says “creepy, how did you know?”

Creepy?

The only other time Kenjaku is creeped out is waaaaaaay later in the manga (spoilers ahead) when Satoru sets the fight day to Dec 24th Kenjaku acknowledges that it’s romantic, and that “having a date with him on the 24th gives him the creeps”.

Oh, I know he’s grossed out with how much they love each other. Like. How the hell else do you interpret that???? Come. On.

Add in when Suguru somehow comes back from the dead for a moment and tries to choke his own body to save Satoru. Kenjaku is baffled—that’s never happened before. That is a demonstration of love everlasting, absolutely.

Then you have Shoko’s “I’d never fall in love with either of you, but you were still never alone” to SatoSugu, basically confirming that she knew the two of them shared a romantic bond that she couldn’t replicate the depth of.

So. Yes. They were very very much in love with each other and to this day Satoru loves Suguru with every fiber of his being and lives his life dedicated to atoning for his (self-perceived) failures to Suguru. He thinks about him everyday. He says he was his only friend. He has Shoko, Ijichi, Mei Mei, and Utahime and yet he only sees Suguru. He only sees Suguru.

[sunonyoreface]

He Knows - Simon "Ghost" Riley Pt. 20

An: Not sure how to start this haha. Hi. It's been over a year but here we are. If you're an old reader, thank you for your patience and for deciding to come back.

Word count: 2410

As the shadow’s grip tightens around my wrist, it feels like a match is struck within me and lit alight with fear. It burns hot within my chest, searing the flesh attached to my bones, causing my entire body to tense. Yet the fear and the pain don’t cause me to shut down. Something has fundamentally changed in me throughout these last strange and inconceivable weeks.

When he leans over me, it’s like the match has lit up his mask, allowing me to see every movement and intention in complete darkness. My fear no longer shuts me down. I feel more awake than ever. More infuriated than ever.

But I’ll be damned if he finds out.  

“Miss me?” his voice is just as vile as it was last time.

I bite my tongue. Speaking now would only give him more reason to do harm.

“Probably not as much as you miss Suds though,” His strong grip yanks me upward into a sitting position. The tightness of his fingers twisting around my wrist painfully pinches my skin. I don’t dare utter a single sound. “Hey? Cause you haven’t been with him all week. Which begs the question: What the hell have you gotten up to, Birdie?”

“Nothing,” I mutter through bared teeth. “When I’m not in Captain Price’s office, the Lieutenant locks me in here.

“So Ghost babysits when Suds is gone. Eh? What’s he like?”

Bennet’s question throws me off guard. What’s he like? Of all the things to talk about, this is what he wants to focus on? Not the trade-off or Price’s supposed secret plans or the Ultranationalists or their impending betrayal. Just Ghost.

There has to be more to his words.

“Quiet,” you can smell the uneasiness on my breath. It carries my words and hangs pungent in the damp air.

“Wanna know something about Ghost?” he asks. My stomach turns. Of course, I do. But he’s counting on that. He wants to know just how interested I am in the Lieutenant. I also know that whatever he’s about to tell me probably isn’t true. He wants to drive a bigger wedge between myself and 141 so my loyalty remains with my father. Except I’ll never be loyal to my father.

I shrug my shoulders in response. I don’t know if he sees or if he cares, but I do know he wants to scare me.

“He tried to kidnap your mother before settling for you,” Bennet’s words taste like the bile rising up the back of my throat. Sour and acidic. Like expired milk. “Do you really think they would stop with you? They’ll never stop. Not until your family – our family is torn to shreds.”

I should have known. I want to feel shocked, but there’s a mental block in my brain stopping me. I. Should. Have. Known.

“Our family?” my voice wavers.

“Yes,” he hisses. “Our family. What? Do you think Ultranationalism is just a movement? It is so much more than that. We are so much more.”

“How come they didn’t get her?” I dare to ask him the question buzzing around in my mind. The hidden bug slips my mind. Our ears are far from the only ones present. Ghost at the very least will be listening. Maybe Soap. Maybe Price. Maybe some higher-up that I’ve never heard of. Nothing in this room is a secret.

Who’s to say it’s true anyway?

Yet, who’s to say it’s not? Sure, the Ultranationalists are liars. So is 141. So is Ghost. Of all the people here, he has kept the most from me.

Truth out here has a different meaning. Every single one of their moral compasses has been skewed by war’s magnetism. Even the men who are objectively fighting for peace and democracy are not on the moral high ground they believe themselves to be. None of their hands are clean. Especially Ghost.

“Our team intercepted last minute. Captured their crew. By the time we discovered their plan to take you too, we were already too late. Little Bird, this was never about you. Your father wants you to know that,” his grip on my wrist releases as he leans back, off the bed.

“Does he forgive me?” my throat tightens as the question barely escapes as a whisper.

“He’s working on it, the shadow’s words are swallowed by the darkness. “But he needs your help. We need to know what angle Price will take,”

“I’m not allowed in the room when they discuss that stuff. They don’t trust me.”

“You must’ve picked up on something,” he urges.

I pause for a moment and think. Of all the different conversations I’ve witnessed, surely something must stand out. Something that is safe to share and won’t hurt 141.

“I mean I don’t think they actually intend on going through with the exchange,” I start. However, this isn’t new to him. Neither side plans on cooperating with the other. It’s a recipe for disaster. “They don’t want my father dead. They need him alive for intel on my uncles. But I also think they might be moving on. Price and Ghost discussed intercepting other families. I think the same way they did with me,” it’s better if he thinks I’m clueless. So much has changed since that conversation. They aren’t moving on any time soon. Not when they’re so close.

“Do you believe them?” his question isn’t inherently strange. It’s the fact that he’s asking my opinion that catches me off guard. Does he genuinely want my input? Does this mean I’ve gained his trust? Not likely.

“I don’t know,” my chest is tight. “Well,” I change my answer. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You shouldn’t,” he starts to slowly pace the room. His mind is racing. There’s so much that needs to be done in so little time. If only I had just an inch of the rope, they’re tying my noose with. Then at least I’d know what tree they planning on hanging me from. “You’re expendable to them,” Bennet turns toward the bed again.  

“And not to you?”

“To me?” his tone quickly turns to something akin to amusement. “No, you’re quite expendable to me. But your father? He sees you as part of our cause.”

“He never brought it up before,” the curious part of me always wins. I have to know. Something. Anything. Even if it's completely fabricated.

“After everything, do you think he’d still lie to you?” the shadow stills and his eyes turn to slits.

“I- no,” we both know it’s a trick question.

“He said your wings will take you far and high, little bird,” for a moment, I almost hear the words in his voice. They sound like something he’d say when I was young. Like stories from lost times.

“But if it was up to you, I’d be dead already,” I shift back to our previous topic.

“Of course,” he says like it is obvious. “But if you stick with 141, they’ll do it for me. You’re useless to them after the exchange. Nothing more than collateral. Even you, are smart enough to know that,” am I though? Hasn’t some hopeful part of me genuinely believed I might actually survive this mess?

“It’s crossed my mind,” my sullen voice lags with a false sense of exhaustion. Yet, I feel more alert than ever.

“Well let it cross again. Into our territory. With your family,” a deep, raspy sigh escapes his chest as he takes a step back from the bed. In the silence of the night, I can hear his scarred lungs rattle like an old pickup on its last leg. But he’s got ‘miles to go and promises to keep’. This shadow isn’t the kind of man to go back on his word. There’s a reason he’s made it to where he is today. “Think about it,” he says as his hand silently wraps around the metal handle.

The door opens and shuts without a sound. When he slips into the darkness, I know this will be the last of our witching-hour meetings. His words haunt me like the last wishes of a lost soul. There’s more truth to them than I’m brave enough to admit.

I almost mistake the soft raps against the door as one of those spirits. Haunted? Maybe. Spirits? Only of the men who’ve died at his hands. Only in the sense that his name brushes across soldiers’ lips like a curse: If you see him, you’re dead.

The knock was just a courtesy. A warning. Ghost enters the room with a large hunting knife in hand. The matt carbon blade is almost impossible to spot in the night. It’s the way his sleeved arm is held at his chest – ready to strike – that gives him away.

Just as one shadow leaves, another appears. Dressed in all black and moving as silent as an unspoken thought. The intensity of his eyes burns as they bore into holes through the darkness.

He knows Bennet is gone. That doesn’t stop him from clearing the room anyway. He reaches under the desk, pulls out the bug, and twists it apart, rendering it dysfunctional. The tiny pieces are slipped into his pocket.

No one can know he’s here.

The words he’s about to speak should never meet the air.

I haven’t had any time to process what just happened and now he’s appeared within moments to remedy an undiagnosed illness.

It feels pre-emptive. Like he knew this was going to come up. Like he’s planned for it.

“Are you okay?” His thick English accent slowly fills the space.

I’m not interested in small talk. I need to know the legitimacy behind the shadow’s words.

“How much did you hear?” I ask. The adrenaline is running low in my veins. I feel the shakes approaching behind me like an unwanted guest at a house party. Creeping and on the verge of cutting into our conversation.

“All of it,” Ghost crosses the room to my bed. He hovers at the edge with his fists clenched at his sides. His trigger finger twitches, expecting confrontation. I stand from my seated position, but he still towers over me.

“Is it true? Did you try to take my mom?” this conversation feels borderline repetitive of everything that went down in the cabin. Every time I think all the details are out in the open and he’s finally being honest with me, I’m proven wrong.

And every time, the Ultranationalists pick at my healing scabs, causing streaks of blood to smear across my fragile skin. It’s an ugly look. One that lacks patience and self-control.

“Affirmative,” the resignation in his voice is concrete. Ghost doesn’t even try to hide it. What else is he leaving out?

“You’re a fucking asshole,” the bitter words fire in his direction. I feel stupid. I feel played. As though they’re all still treating me like a child.

“Y/N,” he quietly warns. His voice refuses to move above a whisper. Who knows what ears are listening outside that door.

“No. Fuck you,” I point at him with a quivering hand. “You’ve had days – no – weeks to tell me this. Why didn’t you say anything, Simon?”

“It was classified,” he automatically responds.

“You’re so full of it,” I cross my arms and fist my hands. I’d be smart to shut my mouth for the rest of my time here. I’d be smart to do a lot of things differently than I have. Yet that’s not an option. “What else are you keeping from me?”

A deep sigh pushes through the black ski mask. One that’s no longer worried, but hinting at frustration. The pause before he speaks is long and filled with words that’ll never see the light of day. “You know I can’t answer that.”

“You can,” I urge.

“I can’t. That’s the nature of my job – of my life, y/n,” I can feel the heat of his chest as he steps closer. “There will always be secrets. The things I know are worth killing over.”

“But if it’s about me, I deserve to know,” I push harder. Surely, he has to understand where I’m coming from.

“Just drop it,” the coldness to his voice is usually reserved for lower-ranking soldiers. I feel it nip at my skin and travel through my bones in an unnerving kind of way. Yet I can’t drop it. Not when it’s my life at stake.

“You can’t come here and expect me to ‘just drop it’ Simon. You came here. I didn’t ask for help,” the annoyance is audible in my voice. “I deserve to know. What is it? Do they really plan on killing me?”

“Of course not,” he scoffs. Ok. So that much is the truth. At least to him.

“What, then?” my brows furrow as my chest impatiently heaves. Why did he bother showing up if all he’s going to do is shut me out?

Simon reaches for a strand of hair, but I duck away from his grasp. The gloved hand falters, before falling back at his side. I know I’ve struck a nerve when his shoulders stiffen and the heel of his boot shifts half an inch back.

“I wanted to make sure you were safe,” the rejection turns his voice stoic. “Goodnight y/n.”

As Ghost turns and heads for the door, he tightly grasps the knife at his side. I consider biting my tongue, but that’s never something I’ve excelled at. “Leaving me in the dark is far from keeping me safe.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Simon looks back as he grasps the handle. There’s a glint so faint it’s almost hard to spot behind his eyes. For a moment he almost doesn’t look real. “You’re safer hidden in the shadows. There’s no going back once you’re exposed to the light.”

He doesn’t wait for my response. I don’t have one to give.

As Ghost leaves the room, I’m left with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

It fades for a while as the hours drag and I drift into a strange type of sleep. Yet, the feeling returns when my door opens in the morning. When I see his face I know today is the day. They can’t afford to wait any longer. The Ultranationalists are ready. 141 is ready.

It isn’t Soap or Ghost or some other foot soldier who’s come to retrieve me: it’s Captain Price.

[kivino]

OUT OF THE SHADOWS I || SIMON ‘GHOST’ RILEY X SHADOW!GN!READER

Word counter – ~6.9k words

Tags/Warnings – Gn!Reader, Shadow!Reader (it’s not for long lol, don’t get your hopes up), murder of civilians/corpses/blood mentioned, physical fights, reader likes to throw fists, Reader’s callsign is Bug to pay tribute to my original idea.

Summary – After the betrayal of Task Force 141 and the slaughter of civilians in Las Almas you decide to leave Shadow Company on the spot, which works out sideways, leaving you with simmering hate towards the man whom you used to look up to and new interesting figures in your life. 

also available on my ao3!

a/n after the fic because they’re too long. but just know that this is the first chapter of the series, feel free to let me know if you want to be tagged in the next part. enjoy!

Everything was calm. The sound of rain covering up the murmur of trucks helped you wind down after the adrenaline rush, and a sense of accomplishment for a job well done swelled in your chest. You already anticipated a long sleep and maybe a night out with your friends when you’re back home from the job. Maybe you’d even get a bonus from Graves and buy something nice for yourself. 

In all honesty, you didn’t even mind being crammed into the backseat along with those 141 guys. Working with them was a pleasure and they seemed like an interesting sort of crowd. Especially that man with the skull mask. Ghost, was it? He certainly attracted your attention the most, with his huge size, booming voice, and undeniable skill in what he did. You were willing to admit that the way he took out the enemies with ease and swiftness was mesmerizing.  And…your train of thought that consisted of pure fascination was interrupted by the abrupt stop of the convoy in front of the base gate. 

Everything was calm until you were surrounded by shouting and then eventual gunshots, along with muffled screams of your brothers in arms. You didn’t understand how it all escalated so fast. One moment you were sure about Shadow Company and Task Force 141 being on the same side, but now you didn’t know what to think of it all. And from Graves' words, it was apparent that Shepherd was behind this too. So naturally you, and many other shadows, the lower ranks, had no fucking clue what all of this was about. One would care to tell a mindless weapon where to shoot, but not why. Blood rushed through your veins and pulsed in your ears, turning the pleasant buzz in your body into strained sharpness. You hurriedly pulled up the rear sight to your eye level. Two bodies dropped to the wet asphalt with soft thuds right in front of you. You felt your heart sink right down to your feet. Instead of firing your shots, you hesitated, backing out to hide behind the bumper of the truck, while hearing agitated, aggressive shouts. You weren’t able to tell who was shouting. So, you leaned out and felt yourself freeze in place. 

And there he is. Ghost, eyes locked right on you. He sure has a…strong presence. And instead of shooting you he just…looks. You don’t like the stupid flowery language, but in this split second, it really feels like he is staring right into your soul. Or like someone is sticking metal rods right through your chest, with how hard breathing becomes in an instant. 

You knew that if you were to shoot him right now, you’d never forgive yourself, all because you were kept in the dark about the whole thing Graves had planned. And you were not willing to get blood on your hands because of some “mistake”. If you pull the trigger, there will be one less person who’s able to make a change. One less person who’ll be willing to get their hands dirty and save people. 

So, you lower the muzzle of your rifle and nod to the side, urging him to start his getaway, before other Shadows and Graves decide to check the perimeter. You see his dark eyes blink, or at least you think you do before he disappears into the darkness. Like he was never there in the first place.

In the end, you didn’t get even a single scratch. Three other Shadows were K.I.A.

Your head buzzed with so many different questions you wanted to ask Graves, and more importantly, the guilt you felt from whatever happened in front of the threshold. You had no idea what happened with that Los Vaqueros base or what was up with your CO, while you were escorting him and those 141 guys along with several other Shadows for this mission. Why was he taking it? What was he even thinking? You wanted to pull out your hair and claw out your eyes just thinking about all of it. Which, you weren’t paid to do, but that didn’t mean you weren’t concerned with the moral side of things. Unlike the majority of the Shadows, as you came to find out.

Confusion bubbled up inside of your mind, eyes burned by the white synthetic light of the gate when you looked up at it just to feel something aside from sheer distress and bewilderment. You didn’t want to believe that your Commander was the type of person to sell himself out, and you didn’t expect him to be, from all the time spent working with him. The man was nothing short of likable and friendly, with his beaming smile, confident attitude, and outgoing way of communicating… a natural-born leader, that was the first thing that came to mind when you thought about your boss. And with how Graves treated you and all other Shadows like you were more than just his employees, the realization was even more painful. Of course, you didn’t want to think about how he could so easily turn his back on people who trusted him.

It raised many questions in your mind about the price of his word, as well as made your stomach churn with acidic, flesh-eating poison full of doubt and suspicion. If it was so easy for your CO to cut out the men someone he told you all to think of as your brothers, then how long will it be before he sells you and other shadows out for…whatever was offered to him? 

“Find ‘em!” Graves barks and your chest swells with bitter disappointment. You thought you knew him before (as much as a subordinate can know their superior), but how can you even begin to understand him now?

You hear Shadows mutter a quiet “Yup-yup”, more to themselves than to your CO, and you could almost feel the doubt settle over them in a thick, transparent blanket. From the conversations you can pick up on while Graves is out of earshot, you guess that some of them don’t think betraying the 141 guys and trying to hunt the two of them down is the right thing to do. But it didn’t seem like they were going to do anything about it though. You, however, want to help. You know that it’s not right, so…screw it. You can always find another job, and if it comes down to it, 141 seem like an okay sort of people, the type that would have your back if you had theirs. At least, you have hope for it.

So maybe you could hold out until they come back for Los Vaqueros. And you were certain they’d do that, no way they’d abandon all these men. You haven’t seen how the things were on said base that was taken from them, but you were certain you could do more on the inside than if you were to leave right now. Maybe you could break Colonel out of there, or help the Task Force sneak in, you were sure they could use any help from you. 

That was the plan before you saw what Shadow Company did to Las Almas.

The picture that Shadows were painting with innocent blood on the rainy landscape was horrifying, to say the least. The metallic smell hit your nose the moment you jumped out of the truck right onto the flooded pavement. That was the exact moment when you realized you couldn’t stay with Shadows any longer. You were supposed to help these people. It was your job. Instead, you felt filthier than the dirt on your boots. Traitor. Backstabber. You choked on your breath behind the mask each time you noticed the bodies of the victims in every dark corner of the city, nausea coming up your throat when you could see rivers of crimson streaming down the road and right into the sewers. Your Shadow Company patch felt like the mark of a killer, etched into your skin permanently, instead of just being part of your uniform.

Limp bodies that didn’t even have the time to grow cold yet, scattered around warm homes. Some of the killed were probably already in their beds sleeping, coming back from work, watching TV, or cooking dinner when they got dragged out under the rain and massacred…Everything felt like a blur, your thoughts were a jumbled mess of whys, while you were led further into the town, to continue the revolting, disgusting crimes of your brothers-in-arms. You couldn’t stand to spend another minute in here. You need to get out before you do something you’ll never be able to forgive yourself for. You were many things, but you were not willing to go that far. Not here, not anywhere. 

“Hey. Where’s Graves?” You tap another Shadow, your “close colleague” with a callsign Kruk, on the shoulder. He turns to you, while you see several other soldiers passing by, yellow streetlights barely illuminating their swiftly moving figures. You knew why it was hard for you to even look in their direction. Kruk points towards the building to the left of you two and croaks something about “briefing the rookies”. You nod and thank him, stumbling in the general direction he pointed you to. 

“Commander, with all due respect, I think it’s time for you to discharge me.” You only came to your senses when you stood in front of your CO in the cramped space of someone’s living room. Wallpaper, creamy in color, dulled lights, tons of decorative cushions on the couch… Your voice is quiet, but firm, not leaving any space for compromise when you speak up to the blond man, and your politeness is as fake as this copy of “Guernica” you could see hanging on the wall. Blood pulses in your ears. You want to leave, you want out. Out of here.

“Bug, now’s not the time for jokes, I need you on the field now. We’ve got our orders.” Graves barely raises his eyes from tapping something on the tablet, that usual scowl that you got used to present on his face. His actions are as ugly as he is. Him not taking you seriously sure does a number on your confidence. But that only reassures you in your decision. You need out. 

“Do I look like I’m joking? I’m leaving, because I don’t think what we’re doing is right.” You try to stay calm, you really do. But how can you, when out of something so vile he makes a joke? Makes all these people a sick joke.

A crease lies between your brows, and shadows falling over your eyes make your face look similar to a carved statue. Before talking to Graves, you decided to take off the eyewear that obscures your face and pull down the thin mask, the signatures for Shadows who are lower in the chain of command. You’re the faceless sort, after all.  “And I don’t think you know your place.” You’re instantly taken aback by his sudden outburst, but you don’t let it show. “I point and you shoot. I sign your paychecks, Bug, and you take them.” You feel something inside of you flinch at the way he mutters your callsign. “I’m in charge. You don’t have a say in what we do.” With each statement, his gloved finger points from him to you, making the rage and frustration boil inside of your chest. You trusted Graves and he led all of your colleagues, along with you to dragging out unarmed, innocent people in the dead of night out of their houses on their streets and executing them. Hell of a leader he is. 

“Well, I’m stepping down. If that’s what we do, I don’t want to take part in it.” You wanted to tell him a lot more, give Graves a piece of your mind on war crimes and killing people in their own homes. On how drowning Las Almas in blood won’t fix whatever the fuck he was trying to fix right now. Instead, you kept it to yourself, tightening your fists just so you didn’t spit in his face or punch him.

“You’re putting a target on your back. Do you not understand how what you’re saying makes you look?” Graves leans in closer to you, the low volume of his voice making it even more threatening, similar to the hissing of a snake. Give him a minute and he will start spewing real venom right in your face. 

“You know that whatever you’re thinking is not true.” To be completely honest, you didn’t care what he thought right now. Graves’ mind and morals were clearly in the wrong place if he considered all this bloodshed justified. 

“Do I really? A moment ago I was sure that you were my subordinate, now I’m not even sure what to make of you.” You’re barely able to resist rolling your eyes at this. Your heart is picking up the pace with each minute. Getting more and more desperate to leave your body altogether, just so you don’t have to listen to his bullshit any longer. You wish it was that easy.

“I’m not taking orders from you. Not anymore.” Saying this took a lot more out of you than you expected, you felt your chest tremble when you met your CO’s eyes.

“Well, would you just look at that, you happen to be a fan of our local drug lord too?” If eyes could kill, Graves would’ve dropped dead right this moment. He smiles, his sharp canines peeking from under his top lip. He knows he’s making your skin crawl and your stomach flip from this interaction, which, if you’re lucky, would be the last for the two of you. “Helping the cartel and corrupt police won’t look too good on your resume”

“I see you’re just making it up as you go.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you held in your chest. Shaky. Uneven. Infuriated. Your eyes are drilling Graves’, a deep frown between them as proof of how much you despise him now, for the baseless assumption too. After a moment of silence, you add. “You know what my stance on this is. Whether I get your approval or not, I’m leaving.” Graves finally withdraws from your personal space, sliding the palm over his face with a heavy sigh, as his lips tighten into a thin line. You knew that this combination meant he was trying to calm down. After a moment of silence, he speaks up again. 

“Look, Bug, you’re a smart kid and frankly, I like you.” he makes a short pause, sighing. “So, I’ll give you a fighting chance. Five minutes – if you’re not out of the city, then you’re a target.” He wasn’t that fucking courteous with the civilians that lay dead a few meters away. Shot on sight. Without any questions. You grit your teeth.

What are you supposed to do with that? Those five minutes didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, most likely, you’ll be rotting in the ditch somewhere shortly after your time runs out - too little to get out of the city or find the Task Force you so desperately wanted to help. Graves won’t leave any witnesses. And you are one. He knows it’s not going to be easy for you to just turn on the Shadows like that too, even though you despised what they were doing while following his orders. They still were your family. Dysfunctional and disproportionately big, but family, nonetheless. Even if they deserved it for their lack of action to prevent what was happening now, you don’t turn on your family like that. What he’s doing is forcing your hand.

Regardless, you have no choice but to take Graves up on his last “generous” offer.

“What are you waiting for, hm? Get out of here while you can.” You didn’t need to be told that twice. So, still balancing your rifle on your arm, your free hand reaches for that patch on your shoulder. Tearing it off in a quick motion makes the sound of Velcro strips snapping open almost echo from how quiet it is. It felt like a whole mountain dropped off of your shoulders when you threw the patch on the ground and stormed out of the building right into the pouring rain.

You felt goosebumps and tremors creeping up your spine as you ran through the dark streets, getting more and more soaked with each second. You didn’t feel much better though. The resentment for Graves grew each second, with all the steps that sent ripples on the surface of the deep puddles, and every raindrop that fell from the copper-colored clouds. But now wasn’t the time to wallow in your misery. Although you wanted to. It did feel like the loss of a person you used to know, of someone you looked up to. The only thing is, he was still living and breathing, and the only thing that died was that idealized image of him in your head. 

There was a cold hollowness somewhere in your chest. Gaping with the darkness that, and you were sure of it, will eat you alive soon enough. Even though you backed out of the Shadow company, it won’t bring back all the people who are not here anymore. You won’t fix it, no matter how hard you try. That bitter guilt snaked its way into the back of your mind and it was there to help stay. 

You managed to pull yourself out of this to make things right. But why do you feel so helpless still?

Your footsteps get faster and faster, as you maneuver through the narrow alleyways, staying out of the range your former colleagues were in. It was easy to hear them, gunshots and voices echoed throughout the city in a weird cacophony that your ears got used to after a long time working for the Shadow Company. They were not afraid, probably feeling like masters here. Somebody has to give them a scare, you thought. So they know better in the future. But it wasn’t your job at the moment. Right now, you needed to get out and do it as soon as possible.

Stopping and coming up with any sort of plan that would help you was not an option - hang in somewhere for too long and you’ll be found. And you were sure you wouldn’t be shown any mercy. 

So instead of staying on the street, where you can be easily spotted with the help of the dim light of a flashlight, you decide to alternate between the corridors of empty homes, with doors wide open for anyone seeking shelter, and the maze of alleyways crawling with Shadows. It felt wrong, invading someone’s homes like this, but you knew if they were unlocked and lights beamed around them, giving out a warm glow the inhabitants were most likely not coming back.

You felt that tingle on the nape of your neck, ready to hide or flee in case you heard any sudden movement from any direction. It’s dead quiet, except for occasional radio talk from the shadows, which you tried to listen in on when you could. It didn’t give you much on where 141 could be. You would start losing hope if you had any left after Graves. But you continue your search nonetheless, reflexes instead of thinking, pure determination instead of hope, and fire in your veins, instead of blood.

That is until you quietly step inside another warm hallway, and you’re met with a wide-eyed stare from another Shadow that makes you freeze like a deer in the headlights. Something inside of you starts to churn with terror from the looming understanding – only one of you will walk out of here alive. Your eyes trail down to the raven patch on his tac vest. It’s Kruk. You want to ask what he is doing here, but you already feel his gaze studying you too. And as soon as he sees that the Shadow Company patch is missing from your uniform, the muzzle of his rifle points right at you. Fucking shit.

“Drop your gun, Kruk!” You warn the man, pointing the weapon in his direction too. He only shakes his head, refusing to stand down. With each second air is laced with tension more and more, you were sure that soon enough it’ll be so thick even a knife wouldn’t cut through it.

“You drop yours first.” His voice is shaky and unsure like he can’t believe what he’s doing right now either. “Commander gave us an order. You’re an enemy now too, Bug. Better get used to it.” Kruk started slowly approaching you, while pulling something out of the bag, strapped on his hip.

“Oh, fuck that!” You swing towards Kruk, trying to approach him in your momentary rage, but you’re immediately met with the warning “Don’t” from Kruk, who doesn’t stand down. “You know what they’re doing here. It doesn’t matter to you?” The man is silent. You don’t see his face behind his mask, so you’re left with even more questions instead of answers. Regardless of what he was thinking right now, you didn’t want to hurt him. So, you bend down and put your rifle on the ground with a quiet clack. If he needs a gesture of goodwill, he can have it. “Your turn.” Kruk only shakes his head.

“Turn around.” So, it was a mistake to trust him. Naturally. Your gullibility will be your downfall. You can almost feel the bitter taste spread inside of your mouth when you look at Kruk. Fucking asshole. But you comply, although reluctantly. He grabs you roughly by the wrists with one hand and by the neck with another, leading you toward what looks like a kitchen in the dim lights falling through the doorway. You get lowered on your knees and then pressed into the dirty floor. And it hits right then and there. He’s going to execute you. Oh, shit, shit, shit.

“You know that I don’t want to do this.” He says quietly so that any shadows passing by don’t hear him. You feel your heartbeat shake your whole body and nausea so intense like you are on the verge of throwing up all of your internal organs, but giving up is just not an option right now. So, you try to prevent him from tying your hands together with all the strength you have.

“Then don’t fucking do it!” He does not answer this as you continue squirming in his hold, trying to make it as hard as possible for him to restrain you. He only grunts but keeps a firm grip. Your head was a mess, you thought Shadows were a family. But all it took was one order from Graves, now they’re scouring the town like damn bloodhounds for you too.

“Get…off of me!” You grit through your teeth. You feel a zip tie slide over your hands and turn your head. The rifle he previously held in his hands was gone, probably so he could tie you up properly, so you take your chance and deliver a hard kick to Kruk’s stomach. He chokes out a pained gasp and finally lets go of your hands. You scurry to get up from the floor with wide smears of rainwater and dirt decorating it, but you get grabbed by the leg, which causes you to stumble and fall once again. You turn your head and kick Kruk with all your might, while attempting to take off the zip tie off your wrists, which, thankfully, he didn’t have the time to close.

You manage to shake the man off of you, as you scramble to your feet, knocking over a corner table with some decorations on it. Yet when you see Kruk fumbling with his hip holster you immediately tackle him to the ground, which causes him to drop the handgun. The whole fight is just a mess, nothing but blinding rage is pulsing in your temples, melting your bones and muscles into something no better than an animal. You get up again, while Kruk is on the floor, searching for the handgun in the darkness. You feel the heavy metal press against your boot and you kick it behind you. You hear it slide across the floor and here it is. Kruk’s eyes, are directed right at you. His hands claw at your leg, trying to drag you down to the floor. And then you black out completely. Kicking, punching, pained wheezes and screams are all you hear, a stuffy abyss with little to no specks of light surrounding you.

You come back to your senses when you don’t feel the familiar weight of your handgun pressing against your hip and then you see it again. Kruk managed to grab it while you were in your anger-induced frenzy. Everything around you slows down. His shaky fingers pull on the safety, but you reach out and grab his hands, pulling them up, not letting him aim at you. Kruk grunts and you see his eyes focused on you in fear, and desperation, as he tries to overpower you in the struggle. You see his weakened state, but the self-preservation is stronger than any compassion towards him at the moment. Kruk will take your life if you don’t take his. That’s just the gist of it. You can’t let him walk away.

Your hands tremble when he manages to overpower you momentarily, but it’s all in vain when you press the handgun harder and harder into his frame, feeling his hands start to yield more and more with each second, strength leaving him. The fear in his eyes is directed at you and only you, but you try not to look. The muzzle of your gun is pressed snugly under his chin. Your gaze trails to his eyes once again. They burn you with terror. Your fingers hook around the trigger guard. You hear a faint whisper.

“Please…”

Gunshot rings in your ears for another second, despite the earmuffs in your helmet.

“Fuck! Fuck…I’m so sorry…I’m sorry.” It all came crashing down on you in one moment. You wouldn’t feel guilty if it was the enemy, you wouldn’t care. He was an enemy now, so why do you feel so guilty, why is it starting to corrode and eat you alive even more? Your palms cover the profusely bleeding gunshot wound, going through his neck and cranium, hot blood pouring out with impossible speed, staining your hands, gear, and skin. Staining your whole being. How could you do something like this? Shadows are family. Killing an unarmed man who’s pleading for his life?

You’re no better than Graves.

The gunshot alerts the Shadows and they start scurrying around on the street. You have no time to mourn Kruk or search for your rifle in the dark, so you yank your handgun out of his hands which only started succumbing to rigor mortis, and sprint out the backdoor, desperately attempting to get away. You can feel your heartbeat booming in your ears, wet hair sticking to the nape of your neck, as you hear distant commotion and a chase stirring behind you, as you dart inside another building and run through the hallways, searching for a way out.

Back on the street, rain droplets are so cold that it feels like they’re splitting your skin open, you can barely feel the pain in your ankle from adrenaline pumping through your blood flow. You start slipping on the slick pavement, but you still refuse to stop, diving inside another doorway. Your head hurts, your lungs feel like they are about to explode, and you think you stepped into a puddle of someone’s blood. No time to ram through the locked door, so you jumped out of the second-story window and landed on your foot, twisting it in the process and swallowing the sob that welled up in your throat. You needed to move.

That bought you some time to get up and dip into the dark alleyway before you heard the loud footsteps approaching the window that you used to escape. You let out a heavy exhale, propping your back against the cold stone. You’re not completely safe, but…that’s better than nothing. The commotion of shadows quiets down and you hear it become more and more distant with each second. 

After a moment of silence, you continue moving, albeit slowly, trying to get used to the hot pulsing in your leg, that shot up right through your nerves with each step you tried to take. You wince and whine in pain, dragging your leg behind, grabbing at the moist stone walls, clinging to them for any sort of support. However, it’s not much of a help. 

Your escape is cut short when your legs finally give out, causing you to stumble and fall while crossing the church garden. Although it probably looked magical in the daylight, right now it was far from it, the smell of metal and smoke still lacing the darkness. You already feel your ankle swelling and some bruises forming under all your gear. You see the lights on the exterior of the church blend into the ribbon of lights and shadows and the thought crosses your mind. You can hide there.

You almost fly up the stairs despite the hurting leg, fumbling with the door for a second, before it creaks open. You shuffle inside with light steps and close the door behind you as quietly as you can. Your knees tremble as you slide down the cold wall and crawl further inside the building, barely feeling any strength left in you. God, you are so drained. Strained gasps are ripped out of your throat every second. You want nothing more than to lie down right there in this church and just let the darkness overtake you in a peaceful slumber. That would be so easy.

Your calm moment is interrupted by someone yanking you up on your feet, to which you let out a surprised yelp. You can’t see the person, but you can feel their hands tugging on your gear roughly and dragging you somewhere. It takes you a second to weigh your pretty limited options given the fact it’s so dark that you are barely able to make out your surroundings. So, you decide to take this fight head on and your heavy boot comes down right on their foot, which prompts the person to grunt, revealing a pretty low male voice, and let go of you.

You tear out from his grasp and almost tumble down to the church floor, bunching up dust with your loud, uneven footsteps. Your back is hunched as you look up at the dark figure from under your eyebrows, ready to deflect any blows if he decides to attack first. You stay silent, feeling like a cornered animal in his presence, small, feeble. Weak. Of course, you were at a disadvantage here, taking a beating, running from Shadows, twisting your ankle, and losing your rifle certainly didn’t help your chances to win, but you were ready to claw your way out of here with your bare hands, breaking your nails and skinning your hands if you had to.

But any punches or kicks you try to land the man easily deflects or blocks, not trying to attack or overpower you however, opting to just take up the defensive position in the fight. Which is, admittedly, a lot easier than taking the offensive one. Maybe he was aiming to exhaust you and then, when you are at your lowest point, he would attack. That seemed like a solid tactic, but you don’t want to let that happen. However, before you can think of anything you end up rolling with the man on the floor. You can hear him huff in frustration and exertion, the wood pressing harshly against your ribs and all the bruises on your lower body pulsing with pain.

After some struggle, however, you managed to tackle the man to the ground, pressing him down to the floor with your weight. Your hands snaked their way onto his neck as you glared at him, resisting the urge to bare your teeth akin to a stray, abused, and betrayed dog, crawling with fleas and parasites. Choking him out obviously wasn’t a nice thing to do, but you were trying to send a message here, that if you continue being followed, you will use your strength. If violence was the only language Shadows understood (and that’s who you believe the man was) then you were ready to become fluent.

“I swear, I’ll fucking kill you!” You press him into the floor harder, hands squeezing the man’s throat, your vision going blurry. You feel his hands grasp at your wrists, but he does not resist. Why is he not trying to shake you off? Why is he letting you choke him like this? Why is he not fighting back? 

“Let go, Bug.” The man’s voice is strained, but familiar, he whispers through his closed jaw. You can hear the way his throat tenses up, or his Adam’s apple bobs under your thick gloves, the warmth of his skin, and the moisture that seeped into the mask. Mask. More light falls through the window thanks to the momentary flicker of the streetlight. Skull. Eight lines on his chin, two on the forehead. Dark brown eyes.

Your hands shoot up like his neck is on fire. Guilt settles in your gut and your throat, pulling you in like you’re some puppet with no free will. You try to get up from the man’s midsection but tumble down on your side from trying to do it too quickly. It’s Ghost. How the hell did you not recognize Ghost?

“I’m sorry. I’m not…myself right now.” You were now sitting on the floor, palms resting on your face, wet from the rain, skin burning up, either trying to regulate the temperature or from all the exertion. Either way, it didn’t matter right now.

“Yeah, you made it pretty obvious.” Ghost coughs, trying to shake off your attempt to cut off his air circulation just seconds ago, as he gets up from his lying position. “At least now I know you’ve got a good grip.” He lets out a deep chuckle which only earns him an eyebrow raise from you. He was joking at a time like this? Must’ve hit his head pretty hard too.

“I could’ve choked you. Why did you not fight back more?” You were royally confused about that. He could’ve stopped the fight before it even began and avoided some bruises along with the sore neck if he just told you who he was or fought back. But he didn’t.

Ghost wants to say something, but stops himself right after opening his mouth. You see it in the way he looks at you. The pause stretches for an endless amount of time and you feel your skin crawling with anxiety while his eyes study your face.

“I was going easy on ya.” Ghost says in a rather blunt manner, which didn’t answer that many of your questions. Well, if he was going easy, he should’ve been at least going at you, which wasn’t true – you saw him only defending himself and blocking some of your blows. Did he?.. Was he trying not to hurt you? Okay, the more you thought about it, the wilder it sounded. Maybe you should just drop it. “I don’t suppose you came here to wash your sins away.” You want to scoff from the bad taste. “Lil’ birdie told me you ditched the Shadows. Any particular reason why?” The man inquires, turning to you. Sitting like this on the floor with him felt unusual, like some sort of weird church sleepover. Give Ghost a minute and he’ll bring you some ice cream so you two can watch some wacky TV shows together.

“Did your little birdie also tell you that Graves is hunting me down too?” You ask while pulling your drenched mask over your face. It brought some comfort and familiarity that were gone the moment you spoke to your CO in that living room. And, well, it would be awkward if Ghost was the only one in the mask.

“I guessed by the gunshots, some racket, and a horde of Shadows taking a night run through the neighborhood close by.” The man chuckles and you feel your face burn up in embarrassment under your mask. You try not to let it show, however. You knew that it wasn’t a very sleek move that you pulled with Kruk, but you were desperate and you didn’t need motherfucking Ghost telling you it was stupid. 

“You’re just hilarious. Is that how you became a lieutenant, by cracking jokes left and right?” You roll your eyes and hope he won’t notice it in the darkness. This banter was pointless, you knew it but…you needed it. It was not easy losing something familiar, so you desperately wanted to feel that camaraderie you experienced in the Shadows.

“You’ll find out once you’re a lieutenant yourself.” And Ghost indulges you. Which, you are thankful for. Isn’t such a scary guy after all, huh?

“Yeah, if I’m alive long enough.” You scoff at his concealed attempt to comfort and reassure you, but you can’t help that warm feeling in your chest. Weird.

“Well, you’ve already surpassed my expectations by staying alive until now.” The man stands up from the floor with a low grunt, pressing an arm around his midsection, right around where you might’ve pinned him to the floor with your body. “Let’s make sure it lasts, eh?” He extends a gloved hand toward you in an open, inviting gesture. Your eyes trail over his huge figure and land on specks of light in his eyes.

His eye black is all smudged and messy.

You have to shake off the sudden thought, observation too close and intimate for your liking, as you grab him by the forearm, trying to ignore the way your skin burns up when you feel his warmth through his gear. Ghost pulls you up to your feet, but doesn’t let go of your arm once you’re up. You don’t let go either. The silence rings in your ears. God, he’s so warm.

 “Are you like a human furnace or something?” You joke to fill the excruciating silence. Which you immediately regret. You wish it wasn’t so dark so you could see just how his face stretched the fabric of a skull mask, which you clearly heard happen by a small shuffle very close to you. Who knows, maybe he cracked a smile?

“Why? Need someone to warm you up at night?” Okay, this is terrible and stupid, and so damn corny, and why do you feel your cheeks grow hot and breath get stuck in your chest? Maybe that’s just how awful his jokes are. Ghost clears his throat and reluctantly lets go of your forearm, fingers still clinging to your sleeve as he pulls himself away too quickly for it to be something nonchalant or casual.

“So, are you answering my question, or do I have to use torture?” Fucking hell, his jokes are morbid. You almost forgot in those several hours you haven’t interacted with him. Although that would be quite hard, he leaves quite an impression, after all.

“Well, I suppose you’ve seen the…the civilians?” You can’t call them anything besides that. To call them corpses is to take away from their whole being. To call them dead would just be a lie. They were still alive in the walls of their homes, in the memories of their breathing relatives and friends, and in the pictures, their traces are everywhere. Ghost silently nods to your question, prompting you to continue. “Then here’s your reason.” You didn’t want to explain your feelings in great detail. And you didn’t feel the need to; you saw the compassion in his eyes. “Plus, the whole thing with the Los Vaqueros base.” If you saw Ghost’s face now you’d note how the expression darkened in a single moment. However, you do feel the temperature in the room fall several degrees lower, so you decide to joke again. “Pay wasn’t that good anyway, so…”

“Fair enough.” The man chuckles while rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll keep an eye on you though. Don’t think you can just waltz in here like this and be completely trusted.” Well, that’s understandable. If you were him you wouldn’t trust yourself either. Although you did hope that the mercy you’ve shown him earlier would influence his decision making. At least a little bit. “And you better toss that thing. Or else.” He points to the radio, still strapped to your tactical vest. You unclasp the device, detaching the small microphone that was holding on by a thread, and hand it to Ghost.

“You’re welcome to get rid of it for me.” And he doesn’t waste any time, dropping the radio on the ground, stomping on it so hard that the sound of it breaking echoes through the church. You assess the scraps of wires and plastic on the floor with a pitiful gaze, coming to a conclusion that you wouldn’t want to end up under Ghost’s boot. Or maybe you would, but under different circumstances. “Well, that’s…effective.”

“You good with the sniper rifle?” The man ignores your previous remark, immediately firing back with the question.  

“Decent.” You were a lot better in close quarters and preferred a more hands-on approach. But a sniper rifle wasn’t that bad. As long as he doesn’t ask you to use it without a scope.

“You’re on the lookout with me then. Don’t screw it up.”

Oh, you’re absolutely not going to.

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a/n – first of all, thank you for reading this fic, and if you enjoyed it, consider dropping me a comment, i’ll really appreciate it! SECOND OF ALL.  I’M NOT A GRAVES HATER, DON’T COME @ ME. segment with him also was written before the campaign release, so in case there are some inaccuracies with the plot/his character – let me know, so I can fix it. all of this is a huge rework of the series that I started but never posted. Originally, it was supposed to be Graves x Reader, but for multiple reasons, moral mostly, it didn’t quite sit right with me. So instead of letting 6k words first part that I’ve written and abandoned go to waste, I decided to remake it into something else here, based on the idea of @mockerycrow (ily you have such a big brain)! so yeah, that’s it for now!

[lotus-holloway]

Lotus had stood beside Juno like the pillar of strength she’d always been for the people she loved. That was her place—shoulders squared, jaw set, spine straight—anchoring Juno as she cracked open her most private trauma for the world to dissect. It was bravery most people would never understand. And Lotus was there, exactly where she was needed.

But her mind… her mind was elsewhere.

She’d never admit it—not to Juno, not to Claire, not even to herself out loud. Not when they needed her present, steady, unshakable. But beneath the surface, she was drifting. Drowning in thoughts of Ryan. No matter how she tried to claw her way out, his name stayed lodged in her chest like a shard of glass.

She wanted to hate him. God, she tried. She reminded herself of how he walked away. How he said he loved her one night and started seeing someone else the next. How he said he’d protect her—always—and then left because her father's sins were too big for him to stand beside.

And yet, it wasn’t just him. It was Sam, too. That little girl had stolen a piece of her heart the first time she’d wrapped her arms around her neck and whispered, “I missed you.” Letting go of Ryan meant letting go of both of them. And Lotus didn’t know how to do that.

Realizing her thoughts had wandered again, she barely registered that they’d pulled into the long, winding drive that led up to the house. The silence in the car had stretched the entire ride, punctuated only by the occasional chime of Juno’s phone blowing up after her public declaration. People were calling her a hero. She was one. And Lotus had told her that—again and again. She just wondered if Juno knew that the woman beside her, the one who seemed so composed, was fraying at every seam.

Lotus was the strong one. The unshakable one. But what did it mean if that strength was an act? A mask she wore so no one would see how broken she really was?

They were just getting out of the car when she felt it: the familiar buzz of her own phone. She didn’t check it immediately. Part of her hoped it was Ryan. Maybe—finally—he’d ask to see her. To talk. To say he was wrong. She told herself it was just for closure. Just to finish things properly.

But deep down, she knew better. She didn’t want closure. She wanted him.

Except it wasn’t him.

It was the one person she never wanted to hear from.

Dax.

Her stomach turned as she played the voicemail, already expecting some new manipulation, some thinly veiled threat she could hand over to the police. But this message… this was something else.

“Hey little flower, I know you're still mad at me, but I heard what your friend had to say and quite honestly, I'm hurt that you would believe those lies. Is that why you stopped talking to me? That's why you decided daddy wasn't a good man anymore? Because of some lies out of a whore’s mouth?”

Her blood went cold.

“You know what she said was all bullshit. She got drunk, fucked some guy, and forgot about it, and now she's trying to get attention by saying it was worse than it was and throwing me into this mess. See, my temper’s getting the best of me again. I just wanted to tell you that I miss you, baby girl. Call me so I can explain, please.”

She stared at the screen, the recording finished, her thumb hovering over the delete button but not pressing it.

It was pathetic. The message. The manipulation. The denial. The rage barely masked as remorse.

And yet… it wasn’t just his voice that made her feel sick. It was hers, too—the one in her head that still longed for Ryan. The one that missed him even as her father’s evil clung to her name like tar. The one that kept wondering what she had done wrong, why she was always the one people decided was too much, too complicated, too broken to stand beside.

She let out a hollow breath. The kind that rattled in her ribs.

The truth slammed into her all at once, cold and sharp:

Ryan didn’t leave because he stopped loving her. He left because she reminded him of everything he was afraid of—violence, mess, trauma. And Dax? Dax was the reason any of that fear existed in the first place.

Maybe it wasn’t Ryan who ruined her.

Maybe it was always her father. The man who broke her world so completely that even the people who claimed to love her ran when the dust settled.

And as much as she wanted to scream, cry, break every mirror in the house, she didn’t.

She just stood there—still, silent—and hit delete.

Because if the world was going to keep treating her like she was built from glass, they were about to learn just how sharp she could be.

[justalekseevna]

Heyya bae, can i do anything with maniac! josh washington when he was like chasing sam when she was only in a towel?

I think NSFW would be very appropriate here, maybe he'll scare the reader and threaten to kill her if she doesn't do something, or smt like that, but without excessive violence, please!!! and it would be cool if she recognized Josh by his eyes through the cutout in the mask or he himself takes off the mask.

you don't have to write this, you can ignore it, but thanks in advance!💗

Hey, thanks for the idea! i will be only glad to distract myself from exams. if you have any other ideas then please write to me and i will be happy to write something. just remember that english is not my native language please

You won't run far

pairing:your ex!Josh Washington x reader

warns: resistance, cum inside, cunnilingus, chase, yandere!Josh is your ex.

00:02 am.

The adventure with the boiler was worth it to now be able to bask in a spacious bath and just listen to music on headphones.

...

If only you hadn't heard a floorboard creak behind you. You pulled your earphone out of your ear and turned around to see the door close... And your clothes gone. Great. You rolled your eyes reluctantly getting out of the bath and wrapping yourself in a towel "ha ha guys, this is so much fun." You said with slight irritation, coming out of the bathroom, The house was quiet and dark.

"Oh, come on. Come on, I see what great jokers you are! Give me my clothes." you walked down the stairs leaving slightly damp traces of your feet, the only sounds in the house were the crackling of logs in the fireplace, your steps and... someone's heavy, barely noticeable breathing...

You looked around the living room but didn't find any sign of the guys being here, you thought they were hiding somewhere in the basement and decided to check just in case, although you were already irritated by these jokes. "I'll kill you guys." You muttered under your breath and walked down the stairs to the basement.

But there was no one here either.

It seemed to you that there was no one here.

Groaning in frustration, you returned upstairs.

And here the moment you noticed out of the corner of your eye how the figure of a man in a creepy mask came out from around the corner and ran straight towards you. The adrenaline rushed through your blood and you ran as fast as you could, holding the towel so it wouldn't slip off your body. The floor was cold but you kept running, thoughts racing through your head, "is this the maniac who killed Hannah and Beth?!.." "has he already killed the other guys?!..." You threw a vase that was in the way to slow him down but he dodged it.

Once you got away from him, at least a little, you hid in the closet, hoping the darkness of the house would help you. why the hell was this house so big anyway.

it was dead quiet except sometimes you could hear the quiet breathing of a maniac... The closet door swung open and a strong hand pulled you out of there, knocking you to the floor, your towel falling off your body leaving you completely exposed to view.

The maniac froze, you could have sworn you saw a little blush on his cheeks through the eye holes in the mask-

You tried to cover yourself but your shaking hands wouldn't obey and it wasn't like it would help you. The man knelt down straddling your waist, pinning your legs to the floor with his foot, and his hand moved your hands away from your breasts, holding them above your head, pressed to the floor.

—"oh my little dove." the man said in a distorted voice, running his free hand over your collarbone, looking at your body. "Did you really think you could run away?" he chuckled and removed his hand from your collarbone, reaching for his belt.

Your eyes widened "no! please! no I beg you-" He took out his belt and secured your wrists with it, tying them to the table leg. Now you couldn't even crawl away. his hands reverently caressed your hips and sides, even with excessive tenderness.

"Will you be my good girl?" He asked, raising his head and looking into your eyes.

"Fuck you!" you squirmed trying to kick him or anything even though you knew that nothing would help you anymore. The maniac slapped your thigh and shook his head chucking, unbuttoning his fly and taking out his thick member, covered with barely noticeable freckles, framed by black hair at the base, its tip was already red and weeping precum. he rubbed his length against the inner curve of your thigh as he threw your legs over his shoulders. something about him seemed damn familiar to you. His eyes in the slits of his mask were familiar to you but you couldn't quite tell because of the darkness in the room.

He took hold of the base, guiding himself towards your slit, teasing your clit with his cockhead "oh look at you, little bunny, already so wet.." With a slow, almost gentle movement, he pushed his hips into you, plunging in one thrust, making you whine in disgust and strange pleasure. His hands felt familiar, his size felt familiar... ugh no. hell no.

His points were slow at first but quickly the pace became almost animal-like, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh echoed throughout the room, the wet slapping sounds were so dirty and made you even wetter, your breasts bouncing with every thrust.

He didn't talk much, only occasionally purred some dirty jokes or groaned. his cock felt too good, you didn't want to admit it, but your quiet moans and whines gave you away.

When you accidentally moved your foot you noticed that his mask moved slightly, it was not tightly put on. you moved your foot harder and the mask flew off.

He froze.

You froze.

Josh looked at you in shock for a few seconds before smirking cheekily and slowly almost tormenting slow keep moving his hips against you. "well well, aren't we curious, honey."

So it was your ex?... the one who brought you all to this house after the incident with the prank on his sisters?...

"Josh- ahh... what the fuck... mhhh..." Josh put his finger to your lips. "Shhh sweetheart, just enjoy it." His hand moved down, his thumb caressing your clit just the way you loved it, did he really remember everything? Your orgasm inevitably washed over you, causing you to arch your back slightly, Josh groaned as your walls squeezed him tightly inside, bringing him closer to his own orgasm.

He came inside you, squeezing your hips, pressing you tightly against his so that not a drop of his seed would go to waste. Your clenching walls milked him, making him moan softly as he kissed your knees and shins. "mhhh ah shit... even better than I remembered..." Josh reluctantly pulled out of you, a thin thread of cum connecting his cockhead and your orgasm-ravaged cunt, your quiet moan made him chuckle. He carefully lowered himself lower, placing his head between your legs, running his tongue along your slit, scooping up your mixed juices, he moaned against your tired folds, lapping you up before kissing your clit and rising slightly crawling towards you, putting his hand on the back of your head slightly lifting you up so you look at him, your eyes half closed in post orgasm. all you could say was his name. Josh smirked slightly and kissed your forehead, caressing your belly filled with his seed.

"You won't leave me again." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hey, I wanted to ask if you could write Kieran x gender neutral reader. Maybe they were friends when younger, and they met again after the indigo disk plot. But now the reader went from shy with long hair to extroverted with a more goth punk style and short hair. They go to Blueberry Academy with friends, and Kieran is kinda jealous of them, like MC, for it being so easy for them to make friends. So they have a sit down and talk it out with maybe a bit of romance sprinkled in.

I hope this isn't too long!! I really love your writing.

Aw thank you! This is fine and I decided to give Reader a Toxtricity as their partner Pokémon

..........

"Uwaaahh...uhuuuhuuh.."

"H-Hey, um...are you okay?"

Sniffling, the young boy looked up from his knees to see you standing over him, concerned. He tried wiping away his tears, but they just kept coming as he recalled some rather mean words spoken to him.

"I'm..f-fine.." He lied, clutching the broken pieces of his ogre mask.

"Are you sure? Because you're sitting all alone here, away from the festival with a broken mask.." You quietly pointed out, frowning.

"...the..jerks over there did it." He finally admitted, his gaze going to the fenced area where some kids were hanging around. "I-I thought they were my friends...and then they called me stupid for likin' the Ogre from those stories..."

"What? They sound like real bullies."

"A-All I said was that....I didn't think it was a bad guy..and then they...they told me they didn't wanna be my friend anymore...a-and now...I-I don't have ANY friends!! WAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!"

Although you were startled by his bawling, you couldn't help but feel bad for him. Leaving him alone certainly wasn't an option, so you sat down beside him, noticing the small Sentret that was trying to comfort him.

"There, there.." You awkwardly patted his back, feeling your face growing warm. Hopefully this wasn't too weird and you were actually helping this poor guy. "I don't have any friends, either. But I can be yours...i-if you'd like."

With a small hiccup, Kieran looked at you, his golden eyes large and full of tears. "Y-You wanna be my friend?" He sniffled. "Even though I like the "bad guy" of those stories?"

"I don't think there's anything wrong with that." You nodded softly, offering him a tiny smile. "I can relate to the Ogre, too. How lonely it must feel up there in the mountains..and um...how it just wants to be accepted."

He smiled back a little, although he was still depressed over the current state of his mask as he kept staring at it.

"Could I...buy you a new one of those? And a candy apple if you're hungry?"

Blinking, he gazed back up at you, stunned by your generosity. "Y-You don't have to do that.."

"But I want to. I just got my allowance so..I don't mind it." You shrugged, before you heard a familiar cry and looked to see your Toxel hobbling away from the festival grounds...

With candy razz berries on a stick.

"Oh no! Tox.." You bemoaned, huffing as the little baby Pokémon innocently waddled into your arms. "You can't wander off like that..a-and you certainly can't be stealing! You know we gotta pay for this, right?"

"Taahaa.." They cooed, already munching on the sweet treat.

"....fine..I'll let this slide because you're a cutie."

"Is that..a Toxel?"

"...o-oh!" Embarrassed, you turned back to Kieran and showed him Toxel. "Yes..sorry. This is my partner. We've been training a lot lately..but...as you can see, they've got ways to go. Haha.."

"You've done Pokémon battles? Wowzers.." He gazed at it in awe.

"Yeah..have you?" You asked.

".....no. I-I don't know anything about them. They're cool to watch but..I don't think I'll ever be strong enough to fight one myself.." He sighed, petting Sentret on the head. "I'm scared of Sentret getting hurt..e-especially by those..rude people."

At this revelation, your shoulders slumped. "Look....I get it, but if they see that you're afraid to battle, then...they'll just keep pushing you around."

"I know. I-I don't wanna be afraid anymore. But...my grandparents think I'm too young to be a trainer, a-and my sister thinks I'm too weak to even try...so I don't see a point..."

"..my own family doubted me, too." You remarked. "It was hard for Toxel and I, but..we had to go against their wishes. We had to become strong enough to stand up to our bullies..and we did. Now they fear the day this little sweetie grows up into a strong Toxtricity."

With a small coo, Toxel giggled and nuzzled your cheek with their forehead so they didn't accidentally shock you. "Taaaaataaa.."

"Yep." You giggled, before glancing back at Kieran, who looked extremely inspired by your words. "Maybe your Sentret will become a strong Furret someday, too. But...you'll have to train it first."

"And..wh-where do I start, if I may ask?" His voice became even quieter than yours.

"How about after the festival? You and I can have a practice battle."

He blinked. "..l-like tonight? With you?"

"Sure...if you're not busy, of course-"

"Oh no, I-I can definitely do that tonight!"

"Great! We'll just..go over the basics, that's all." You hopped to your feet as Toxel climbed onto your shoulder, and you offered your hand to the boy. "Also I'm sorry for not introducing myself. I'm [y/n]."

"Kieran." He had a shaky smile on his own face as he took your hand, letting you pull him up. "Th-Thanks for cheering me up...I think I'm ready to go back into the hall."

"Alright." With a small chuckle, you tied up your long hair before donning your mask, taking his broken one.

"C'mon, Kieran. First stop is the sweets shop...which candy apple do you like?"

.

.

.

.

"....and in Galar, Toxtricity had the power to Gigantamax. And they could turn into this awesome creature with a HUGE radio tower on their back. Oh, and they attack with a guitar made out of electricity!"

"Oh my Arceus!"

"That is sick!"

"We NEED to take a trip to Galar next year."

"Bro, maybe Piers can give you some more fashion tips. Because the punk is rocking."

"Thanks, haha..maybe I will."

As Kieran walked through the doors to the League Club, he heard the laughter and chatter of a group of people who were gathered at the table. Seeing new faces always caught him off-guard, considering how he somewhat left the organization in shambles..

He wasn't expecting so many to join, let alone scrap together enough BP to change the room's layout and usher in new additions--like that itemizer machine..

But it seems the rest of the Elite Four, plus Florian/Juliana, managed to rebuild the foundation and keep it alive. And even he thought this was for the best, as his burdens as both champion and leader were finally lifted from his shoulders.

While he hated that Paldean for "dethroning" him at first...he was actually relieved.

Now he was spending his time trying to make amends with everybody, feeling ashamed for the way he acted towards them--especially to the club members he took his anger out on. He kicked out one guy all because he couldn't meet his impossible standards.

Kieran did make sure he was back in the club..but even so, it took a while for that kid to forgive him.

He knew it wasn't going to be easy. Some people were still going to be bitter over what he did.

Fortunately, he can now enter the club room without feeling like everyone was staring at him, nor could he sense the heavy tension from the Elite Four as he walked past them. They just greeted him like an old friend before going back to their discussions.

When he was about to introduce himself to your group, however, he froze up the moment your eyes met his own...

At first, he was bewildered by the gothic-punk attire you've managed to incorporate into your uniform, complete with spiky bands and makeup. He's never seen any other student here test the waters of the dress code like you did.

Yet that wasn't what shocked him, but rather...the person underneath all of that.

You looked awfully familiar...

Where has he seen you before?

Funny enough, you were asking yourself that same question as you stared back up at this guy, trying to figure out why he was giving you such an odd look.

At first it seemed judgy.

But then you saw those familiar golden eyes, the black hair with purple highlights....you only ever knew one person with those characteristics.

"No way..Kieran?"

"....[y/n]?" He murmured, stunned. "You..remember me?"

"It took me a second, but wow...it really is you!" You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. "I haven't seen you in years, dude! And I know what you're gonna say...yes, I know I look like a Team Yell member. But I just like the fashion back in Spikemuth. It stuck with me."

"Wowzers...you went to Galar...?"

"Oh yeah. Went there to study and ended up staying a bit longer than I meant to...but it was great." Smiling, you rubbed the top of your head. "I got myself a nice trim while there. It was a much-needed change. Speaking of which....I don't think I've ever seen you with your hair up." You raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah..it was..getting in the way." Kieran brushed back his bangs, still reeling from the shock of seeing his childhood friend here at his school after all these years.

Not to mention how you presented yourself as this confident and boisterous person. Were you really that same shy long-haired friend he knew back in Kitakami?

"[Y/n], you know this guy?"

You both glanced back at your friend group, and you nodded. "Yep. He's an old friend from the Land of Kitakami. Honest to Arceus I had no idea he attended this school..but then again I literally just enrolled today. Either way, it's a nice surprise. Glad to see you again, Ki."

"Same." He nodded, although there seemed to be a certain sadness in his eyes as he stared at the people surrounding you, shoulders slumped. "Anyways, uh...I wanted to welcome you all to the club. I-I'll be back later. Bye, [y/n]."

With a nervous swallow, he quickly turned tail and left the clubroom, while your friends wondered why he looked at them all that way...

You believed you already knew the reason..

But when you saw their confused gazed, you just smiled and shrugged. "Don't worry about him, he's shy."

"Shy? But that guy used to be this school's champion!"

"...no way, really?" Your eyes widened, resting your arms on the tablr as you leaned towards one of your friends. "Tell me more."

.........

At the end of the day, the club was ready to close up shop. Everybody else had left except for you and Toxtricity.

You volunteered to stay late, picking up the messes your friends left behind, such as the opened snacks and sodas (some of them being from Drayton, of course). Amarys did promise you some BP for all your hardwork and willingness to accept responsibility, so that was motivation enough.

Despite the way you look, you weren't always some rebellious punk.

Just as you have both finished and were about to lock the door..you noticed Kieran approaching from down the hall, and he looked rather serious.

Finally, this was your chance to talk to him.

"Oh hey, Ki."

"Hey, [y/n]..is it just you here?" His gaze went past yours, eyes darting around the empty room.

"Nobody but me and Tox." You gestured to Toxtricity, who nodded and smiled, strumming the organs on their chest.

"I see they're all grown up, too." He remarked, sounding a bit more relaxed after realizing nobody else was around.

"That reminds me..how's your Sentret doing?"

"He's a Furret now. And he's doing just fine...but not on my main team, anymore. He's more like...an emotional support Pokémon, I guess?"

"Fair enough." You chuckled as you wrapped an arm around your companion's shoulders. "I learned there was more to Pokémon than just battling. They can be your best buddy, too."

"Right.." Kieran nodded, his smile fading.

You frowned a little. "Listen..I know this is kinda awkward. We haven't spoken in years, and I still feel bad for moving out of Kitakami without-"

"No, it's not that...I'm happy to see you again. I just.." He sighed, looking down at the floor. "You said..today was your first day here, right?"

"Yeah."

"I can't believe you've already made so many friends. It must feel nice.."

You were confused at his rather sour tone of voice, although you were anticipating this sort of confrontation, recalling how often he struggled to make and keep friends--besides you, of course.

But even now, it seems those insecurities never left him.

"D-Did I say that out loud?" Suddenly he tensed up, appearing a little scared. "I'm sorry, you can ignore me. I'm...tired. I-It's been a long day, so I'm just gonna-"

"Wait, Kieran."

Before he could turn around and leave, you took ahold of his arm, and he looked back at you with shock. "They didn't replace you if that's what you're worried about."

"...it's not that, either."

"Then...what is it?"

"You'll think it's stupid...." He mumbled, shaking his head.

"It's not stupid if it's clearly bothering you. Look, let's just..sit down and talk about it, okay? I'm not here to judge."

He blinked at your proposal, but eventually decided to sit at the table with you. Toxtricity crouched down next to your chair so you could pet them on the head.

It took a few moments for Kieran to start talking, yet with your silent encouragement...he finally spoke up.

"How do you make it look so...easy?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean...you have all these friends now while I..." His voice trailed off, fists clenched on the table as he tried to keep himself calm. "..I-I can't name a single one other than you and Florian/Juliana. You'd think becoming champion and club president would make me super popular. But the truth is that it only made me feel more isolated. So how did you do it? How did you become so confident? Is there a secret or some code word I never knew about?"

"There's...no secret, Ki." You responded, your heart sinking. "Friendships just sorta..happen. Like ours did that day those jerks made fun of you at the festival of masks. I guess it was just....up to fate."

"...well I wish fate gave me the same luck as you." He bitterly muttered under his breath.

"Luck? No. That's...look, I'm not popular, and I'd never wanna be. Those people are my only friends here aside from you." You huffed. "I know I've changed since we last saw each other...but I'm still that same kid from before-"

"I barely recognized you, [y/n]." He bluntly pointed out. "We grew up together in the same place...but you went to Galar, changed your whole looks, and made so many friends here on your first day. Then there's me, who...h-hasn't really changed at all." His shoulders became slumped. "I've done things I'm ashamed of, and I'm trying to fix them, but I just feel...stuck. Like I'm never gonna move on from being that whiny little kid from Kitakami who keeps wishing he was somebody else.."

Your gaze softened a little, finally understanding his perspective. "Well..I personally don't see that anymore. I see you're trying to change for the better, and that's great. You should be proud of that."

Kieran blinked as your hand came to rest over his own, his heart skipping a beat. Yet he kept his focus on you and your comforting smile, despite finding it difficult to see the truth in your words.

He could feel that self-doubt festering inside him again.

"But..y-you don't know what I-"

"People here told me such awesome things about you, and I almost couldn't believe them."

He stared at you. "What? Really?"

"Yeah, dude! You never told me how your team uses a competitive setup with Rain Dance on the first turn...or how your Applin is all grown up into a Hydrapple. Hell, I didn't even know that was an existing evolution until today, so you taught me something new-"

However, you stopped rambling upon hearing a small sniffle coming from your friend. You then saw his lips trembling as he tried pushing back tears with his sleeve.

Internally you began to panic. "Ki? What's wrong?"

"I-I'm sorry. It's just....everybody here talks about my Pokémon and battle tactics all the time, but never about me." He whimpered. "I-I want people to like me for....me, you know?"

You nodded sympathetically, gently squeezing his hand. Guilt swelled in your heart as you never realized how lonely he must've felt since you left...and right now you probably made him feel ten times worse.

"You really are a great guy, though. Anyone would be lucky to get to know the real you."

"........."

Now you were a bit stumped on what to say next, as he was staring at the table now, sniffling like a little kid. And you began wracking your brain for any possible way you could cheer him up.

Then an idea sprung into your mind.

You were going to save it for a later occasion, but...now seemed to be the right time.

Even Toxtricity agreed with you, as they nudged your arm with a low growl, wishing you'd finally fess up and let him know how you truly felt about him.

Your heart was beating fast, but you pushed away the nerves and momentarily let go of his hand to retrieve a pokeball from your bag. He seemed too caught-up in his own thoughts to notice, still wiping away his tears.

"But y'know what could be better than having friends?"

With watery eyes, Kieran managed to look at you straight on. "What?"

You didn't say a word, instead turning his hand over and placing a love ball into his palm. He looked at you with confusion, before gasping as the device suddenly opened on its own to reveal....

A Shiny Applin.

"Wowzers.." He gawked. "So this is what their shinies look like??"

"Yep. Straight from Galar."

"The love ball is an interesting choice.." He remarked, watching as the Applin jumped onto the table and gazed at him. "But..while I appreciate the gift, I-I....don't really see how owning a shiny is gonna help-"

"Oh, so he doesn't know, Tox..." You whispered to your companion, who simply snickered back.

"Tahaahaa.."

"....know what?" Kieran's eyebrows furrowed as he noticed the smirks you and Toxtricity were exchanging, growing more and more confused and concerned. "Can someone explain?"

"In Galar, people give Applins to each other as a romantic gesture." You stated bluntly, feeling your face burn up....but you prayed he would finally get the hint.

It took him about five seconds, his jaw dropping. "What??? Y-You.....really see me that way?" His heart began racing all over again. "Why me, though?"

"I like you for you, Ki. And that's all there is to it." You leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek, watching as his eyes went wide and his blush worsened. "Hm, I guess that shy little cutie is still in there after all."

"C'mon..stop that.." Huffing, he shrunk back into his jacket in a vain attempt to hide his flusteredness. "I-I do like you, too."

"I'm glad, and I promise..I'm sticking around for a long, long time." You looked to Toxtricity, who strummed a small riff on their chest. "I owe Tox one for finding that love ball for me. I was gonna save it for some fairy type, but...I think I found a better use for it."

All Kieran could do was smile and nod, taking your hands into his own. While he was still too flushed to properly speak, he was nowhere near as sad as he was before your confession.

You were right.

This was a LOT better than having friends.

Because now he had you.

While both of your looks and personalities have definitely changed, the love and care you had for each other never did.

[montimer]

Joker x hero!reader

he gets ya right into his trap

Warning: bit suggestive, yandere

You could never get a peace of sleep in gotham. And he made sure that he did not leave your mind. You didn't leave his so its only fair.

You ran to arkham as fast as you could when you heard that he has taken over the whole place. Unknown to you he knew you were coming, he knew how much you cared for all the scum in this city. You just couldn't let something bad happen. But to him, you were running straight to him. Just right into his trap.

While you wondered around the place, he kept talking to you through the speakers. Sometimes he himself showing up on tv's.

He watched your every move. Commented on it too, maybe giving hints sometimes too.

What he mostly did was tell jokes and speak nonsense. Nonsense like mentioning how good you look.

"I just can't wait till you get here! Oh were going to have so much fun my dear!...Did i mention how good you look? Especially when fighting, the blood really brings your shoes colour out!"

For some reason this maniac has a plushy of you. And is very loud about it. Saying how he is your biggest fan. Does he ever stop talking?

It makes your head hurt at some point, the laughter filling your mind. Does, he mean those things?

Finally reaching him you kick the door. It swings open and at the loud noise he furrows his brows. But once seeing you he regains his wide smile and jumps up from his chair to run to you. Ready for a hit you hold your hands out ready to strike, but instead of a hit he jumps into your arms. His legs squeezing around your waist. One of his hand is petting your head, the other is layed around your neck.

"Pretty strong aren't you?" he giggles.

His green eyes staring at you makes you nervous. You just struggle around, trying to put him down. He is very strong himself even tho he looks slim. You end up just grabbing his waist trying to push him off off you.

"Awh you dirty you" he boop you on the nose. "Can't keep your hands to yourself hm?"

Hes the one talking? You gave him a harsh look and he just kept giggling. You decide that arguing with him gets you nowhere. "Oh but you don't have to stop" he says disappointed once your hands leave his waist.

"Whats all this for? What's your plan?"

"With you, i just wanna have fun." His serious tone made you feel uneasy.

"Oh right and i wanted to test this lipstick out too, and your the perfect person to help me!" He pointed at his mouth cheerfully.

What is he doing really? Is there poison in that, no way he's really just having fun doing this with you. Isn't everything he does is just for a good laugh? Is he trying to crack you? Well he sure takes his sweet time doing it. Its been almost half a year since hes been calling you 'his darling'. Worst thing is you actually give in too easily for him. Wonder where Bat is off right now.

Your thoughts were quickly interrupted when his hands suddenly pulled your mask up a bit, then feeling his lips on yours.

You considered pulling your head away but somehow you just couldn't.It actually felt,nice

He slowly made his way to your neck. Kissing and biting it. Your moans encouraged him to keep going.

He even let his legs go of your waist, now only his arms holding you hostage. Still he was so close to you, his body brushing against yours.

All this got caught off once his radio speak up. It was Harley telling that she managed to get Bats distracted. Annoyed he answered back with "Good job. Now keep that up and stay off the line!" You tilted your head

"Sorry, kid loves to brag about small achievements. At least it gives me a bit more time for us. And its not like im letting you go anytime soon. You gotta stay for the rest of the fun! After all we got a guest coming."

Great, now you can think about your life choices while being tied to a chair. Full of lipstick marks if i may add... With a crazy obsessed clown bringing you into a hours long talk show next to you. Sooo what do ya think of the lipstick, fancy enough?

[blacklegsanjiii]

First of all im so sorry for the long askbut!! New parent idea 💥💥 i present to you: King

Now hear me out, you might be thinking ‘really??? King from wano the bird guy?? Why tf’ but my good sir there are multiple reasons

1. Fire! King is from a race called lurarians (he’s infact the last of his people because theyre world wide known as beautiful because of their white hair, dark skin and beautiful black wings) lurarians are also known to be able to set themselves on fire! So that fits prettyyy well with sanji

So if we take pt 1 with us and expand it...

2. Test subject ✨ we all know Sanji is judge 3rd expiriment and also that vegapunk has made the seraphims of the warlords combined with kings lurarian DNA to make very strong clones. Judge and vegapunk were also in a science group together so they might have some shared notes and materials...

So that brings me to the parent King au...

What if vegapunk and judge kept in touch and decided to keep King in germas dungeon for the foreseeable future because its very well guarded etc etc so he is essentially both vegapunk and judges labrat

And when judge is busy with Sora and Reiju he notices that while reiju hasnt failed his expectations for power, he can always do better so with the quadruplets he also decides to mix kings lurarian DNA in for even stronger child soldiers (so 1234ji have 3 bio parents lmao)

Maybe this alters their appearance also a bit? (Mini baby wings 🥺 that they hide becausd its a weakness maybe 124ji got them amputated later in life while sanji ofcourse kept his hidden)

But anyway canon continues and sanji gets thrown into the dungeon with his mask... Here he meets a huge winged man. First days maybe weeks they dont really talk but sanji is a child and starts talking to king because he's lonely

They startbonding and in the next almost year that sanji is stuck there they really learn to love each other and sanji shows king his baby wings and king just decides 'yup thats my kid' teaches him to groom and how to fold/hide them without being in to much pain

But then vegapunk and judge fight and split up, king was originally vegapunks labrat so he is also taken from sanji.

Canon continues with them both respectively escaping,king tried to find sanji but couldnt bc germa is very stealthy and nobody knows where they are so he joins kaido etc etc

And then they meet again in wano.

Thoughts :0?

I had to double check King's age to make sure this is plausible and yeah, he's 47. He can fully adopt Sanji. I support this fully, fire boys unite! Also imagine Heterochromia!Sanji, one blue eye and one red.

King who is Vegapunks labrat being experimented on for a good while before Reiju and the quads come along, hell, even before Sora coming along. Captured as a teenager and being held captive and tortured for years. Eventually he's locked in the dungeon and left there to rot even after Vegapunk leaves to focus on other things but leaves him in Germa. No one really interacts with the Lunarian except to bring him food and water to keep him alive in case they do decide they want to do something with him again. What it could be he doesn't know what more they could do.

Judge however has gotten married and had a daughter already but notices her flaws and while she's not a full failure, he could do better. So he infuses the Lunarians DNA with those of his coming sons, despite his wife taking that poison she won't be able to do much to get rid of that at least. He can deal with the other failures she causes later but right now he's unworried. Even when the children come, the third one is wrong, he's blond instead of darkhaired, he's easily bruised. Unfortunate really. He had high hopes for that one particularly, for the stealth instead of brute force the others were for.

He sees the wings and knows he still at least has the Lunarian DNA, he might still have some use. Maybe.

He's not and it's clear by the time Sanji is six. Weak and crying and frail compared to his siblings. He has a full range of emotions which even Reiju doesn't have. Disgusted Judge throws him in the dungeon, a metal cover his head and unconcerned if he dies down there, Sanji screaming and crying for him to come back. Apologizing to his father over and over again as if it will change anything. It doesn't. He's trapped alone in the cell but there's someone down here with him. There's a man, tall with white hair and black wings like he has, only a few years older than his mother. He's telling Sanji to quiet down, no one will come get him. Sanji can't stop crying so he apologizes and sits in the back of his cell. King gives his real name to the kid, introduces himself as Alber to the boy, he is a boy after all, small and frail and so utterly broken and too young to be there. He knows what it's like to be a failure after all. It takes all of a day for King to see the small black wings the kid has. His wings are in awful condition: Bald spots, cuts, bruises, broken feathers. King remembers what that was like, the uncomfortable feeling and itching, those wings are from Lunarians though, so this kid has his DNA or there's another Lunarian here possibly. Both are bad options, no one should be forced to live as he has. No one.

They're together for a year and some change and in that time 124ji find out about Sanji and King almost burns the little princes for what they're doing. They have wings as well, atrophied and unworked like his are. He can only stretch his so far in this cramped cell. He hears the crunch of bones in the younger's cell. He throws fire at them once and is doused in water unforgivingly. They're incredibly close, King hasn't told the boy this where his wings come from and Sanji asks if he's where his red eye comes from and King says probably, albeit he's confused about that, he's only seen the blue one.

He teaches Sanji how to preen and hide his wings more comfortably and for protection. King tells him they will be his pride and joy and he will be able to fly with them. Sanji says he hopes so. They've been together for a year and some change when they take King away from Sanji. They tranquilize him and the last thing King hears is Sanji screaming and begging for them not to take him. He wakes up to Vegapunk telling him it's time to continue their work. King stays for a year, working on getting his wings back to functioning, preening and carrying for them. Then he escapes. It's a mess getting out but he needs to get out. Needs to find Sanji, his son. He will find his son.

So he breaks out and goes hunting for Germa but hears the kids saying Sanji better be dead since he's out of the dungeon, which means he escaped. As relieved as that makes him it means he has more searching to do. He looks and looks for years and years. He doesn't find him though and ends up in Wano under Kaido, working his way up to becoming an All Star. He hides who he is and decides he'll wait, maybe Sanji will pass by.

Sanji on the other hand is going through canon mostly normally, I think having King there would partially impact how he views woman but also for as much flirting as he does he doesn't actually sleep with anyone. Zeff found out he has wings while on the rock because he's crying about how fucked they are. Zeff is staring at the black wings attached to this kid and helps him hide them when they're saved, threatens the doctor to keep quiet.

Zeff helps Sanji rehab them before Baratie opens and after it does he lets the boy fly to his heart's content. Patty and Carne will save him if he falls in the water, he can still swim but his wings are not made for water. Is he still amazing at it? 100% but like, he's not a duck or a penguin. He's part Lunarian. He wears coats like the vice admirals and admirals do. Off his shoulders to hide his wings, to keep them safe as he goes about his day. He doesn't really over heat thanks to his Lunarian traits but when he gets cold, it's so fucking cold to him.

When he joins the crew everyone thinks he's kind of prissy with the full suit+extra jacket thing he has but...he's illegal. He's an illegal race and if he gets found out he's fucked. Drum island is when Luffy and Nami find out. Sanji is begging for Kureha and Chopper to not tell anyone which they assure they won't. Kureha does tell him he's lucky he only broke his back and not his wings. Chopper says they're in desperate need of preening and Sanji admits he hasn't done it since he left the Baratie because he didn't want to get caught. He mumbles it all of course but Nami and Luffy are looking at the black monstrous wings as they unfurl and Chopper is amazed at them. They're huge. He has to have a ten/fifteen foot wingspan(if not more but anime logic) and Luffy asks how you preen wings and Chopper shows him despite Sanji insisting he can do it himself. It's too late and Chopper and Luffy are preening a wing and it feels good. Zeff didn't even preen him, not unless Sanji asked and Sanji was too proud to ask normally. Even Nami touches them and is surprised how soft they are.

They leave with Chopper and make it off Drum island and to Alabasta and meet Ace. Sanji is fine in the heat, he's in so many layers though it concerns everyone but he waves them off. He's sworn Nami and Chopper to secrecy but not Luffy because he bought his silence with meat. Sanji is so lucky he didn't inherit more traits from Alber because that cigar marine is tailing them and here and if it wasn't for these covers over his wings h would put to death immediately. Even as they take Alabasta back he doesn't uncover his wings. Not until they leave again and Nami is getting upset with him saying they need preened and that she'll do it while he's on watch. Nico Robin has joined the crew and he doesn't trust her that much and he'd rather not trouble Nami at all but she basically throws him to his knees and starts preening. If Sanji moves to help she threatens to raise his debt which he doesn't understand.

Robin probably knows but no one has else finds out until post TS. He can sill sky walk, he still learned it and to keep his secret. But no one else knows, not until WCI/Wano. Sanji notices his brothers wings are gone and Sanji is the only one left with them. The black wings he cannot cover with his red cape so at least one is always showing as well as his red eye. It has wigged some of his crew out until he showed both eyes at the same time and Robin called him interesting in the way she does some poneglyphs or rituals she reads about.

It made his stomach turn. Just as it is now as he's being called interesting again and Pudding is saying their kids have wings like he does. Big Mom says she thought Lunarians are extinct and Judge says they are. The quadruplets are only infused with the DNA, not actually Lunarian. Sanji wants to vomit.

He'd claim to be an illegal race than to be a Vinsmoke. So during the escape he claims it. He flies and it's awkward so it's a combination of sky walking and flying. Carrying Luffy and Nami to safety. His bounty skyrockets as they head to Wano. It's higher than Zoro's as Nami preens his wings and Luffy coming to help after he's had a nap and some food that Sanji made. He's wanted dead or alive with Vinsmoke as his last name unfortunately and being Lunarian added to his list of crimes.

Everyone seeing his wings in Wano is new and he asks everyone not to touch them. Zoro is confused because the fuck cook? I'm your rival? And Sanji shrugs because he doesn't know what else to do. Then fights keep happening. He uses the raid suit a couple of times, the second time is the worst. He's fighting Alber, he's sure of it. He's so fucking sure but he's drilled through buildings and he's certain Alber is going to kill him for this.

Maybe after the raid Sanji finds a moment alone before Zoro and Luffy wake up. Maybe King the Wild Fire finds him and they talk and catch up. Maybe King preens his son's wings like he always wanted to. Maybe King joins the crew.

Maybe King went to the East Blue, found the Baratie, met Zeff. They would bond over the Eggplant. Sanji's second place in the bounties. When he gets to Egghead he has no sympathy for Vegapunk, he does for Kuma and Bonney but for what he's done to his family? Never. He will never forgive him.