#mostly the same peeps | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thesharktanksdriver · 2 months ago

Text

Devils may love?: leaving home, loving life and loosing you

This is part 1 going over dmc3, I’m gonna maybe write parts for the other games if people are interested. Also maybe will eventually write some stuff for the pov of other characters in love with the blind dumbass that is reader.

Links: masterlist, part 2, part 3, part 4

You never thought that in your life you’d end up working at a place called “devil may cry”

When you initially found a job listing for the job it wasn’t even named that yet, and you never knew how much it would end up affecting your life

You used to fear not being able to pay rent on a daily basis

Feared getting mugged on your way home from a late shift or if your coupons expired before you bought groceries

But now you feared having demons knocking down your door and breathing down your neck on a daily basis

Let alone the fact that you had to deal with that alongside whatever other world ending event you somehow got caught up in

And dealing with taxes

And ensuring that Dante payed for the power and hydro in time

And….

Well there were a lot of and’s with the job that would go on to change your life

Whether that change was fully good or fully bad was up to debate

God knows how long you’ve weighed both sides in your mind

But it for sure made your life a hell of a lot more lively

Quite literally in the hell metaphor

And it all started when you found an add in the paper right after leaving a previous job and needing cash quick

You had a shitty apartment but rent was due in a short amount of time

Couldn’t rely on your parents either, not when they put you in this situation in the first place and you’d took the opportunity to get as far away from their shit as possible

Which meant you had fairly limited options

Especially with the fact you’d also had to drop out at the finish line of high school to make ends meet

That had ended up biting you in the ass more than anything

But the paper in your hands said little qualifications were needed

So it was your last chance

You never knew what it entail when you entered through the double doors of the newly bought building

The street lights above you illuminating your hope filled face holding your short resume

Admittedly sitting down for the job interview with Dante was a rather…daunting task

Less because he was intimidating

And moreso for the fact that the man (you say that hesitantly because he was literally the same age as you) who introduced himself as Dante sat with his feet kicked up on his desk and barely even glanced at your resume

The paper simply ended up in his hands for his eyes to skim before letting it be placed atop a stack of papers that looked like overdue bills nearby

Nor had he asked any work related question like “how do you work well in a team environment” or “do you have any prior experience to jobs like this”

Instead your potential future employer snacked on a slice of pizza and asked you questions like “know any places that deliver mid-apocalypse?” And “want a slice? Can’t guarantee you’ll get more than a piece or two with how fast I eat”

You can’t say you’d had any job interviews end up like this

They mostly ended up with fake smiles and promises to contact you if you got the position and never hearing a peep from them again

But Dante seems all too lax to be considered serious at all

Well besides his serious addiction to take out evident by the few leftover stacked pizza boxes and cartons of Chinese swept off to the side

Whenever you bring up your resume he waves it off or switches topics

He definitely didn’t even read through your previous job experiences

He just read your name and your phone number

What’s worse is that this wouldn’t even be the worst boss you’d had

Just potentially the weirdest

And that’s saying something

But At least he’s not some old creep the age of your dad leering at you

He’s just a horned up teen boy

He’s 18, just like you and just as in need of needing to get by on his own as you are

Though you think for different circumstances

By how he keeps a small photo of a blond woman on his desk, the only thing comparably well kept on the scratched up mahogany slab implies something

Something your not privy to (yet) but something none the less

A thing that leaves him both careless and untethered all the same

Perhaps for both good and bad

Whilst your seemingly the opposite, you can’t help but think of your parents with a bitterness that crawls up and wraps round every memory good (not many I the first place) or bad

Along with the fact that you can’t and don’t want to go back to them and would rather try to scrape by on your own

Even if it meant dropping out before graduation to do so

Just so you could get a job to afford rent since minimum wage wouldn’t get you by

Well…it certainly has a lot of weight to it both

Maybe something he recognizes when despite your made up professional appearance there are some cracks in it

How you nervously play with your hands

The fact that your his age and asking for a job that’d be enough to afford groceries and a roof over your head

No matter how leaky or loud the neighbours were

So when the interview is over you begin to count your losses

Grabbing your bag and trying not to hang your head on the way out

He must’ve just been messing with you

Or at least that’s what you think until he stops you asking where you going

And you can only tilt your head in confusion saying that you were heading back to your apartment

“But your already on the job”

“Huh? But I thought you were pulling my leg”

“What do you mean? I hired you already”

“What?! When???”

“When I opened the door and found an absolute babe in front of me asking for a job”

You think your already starting to regret this choice

But cash is king and you need some of that dollar to get by this month

You’ll just resign when you get on your feet and find something better

(News flash that doesn’t happen. Oh poor young naive past you)

Working at this still yet to be named paranormal/mercenary agency is a relatively easy task

Answer the phone, organize Dante’s increasingly messy desk, file some paperwork and make sure the bills are payed on time

Maybe throw out some old takeout and fight off the colony of raccoons in the back who started making a palace from pizza boxes

Somehow that ends up being the most odd but simultaneously normal thing you’d experienced yet

The place itself is actually quite cosy when you get used to it

Warm lighting accented by a the soft hum of the jukebox playing some 80’s power ballad

It makes for a nice mood when your sweeping up or filling things out

A comfy leather chair and a simple but effective desk for you to work at if it wasn’t already occupied

The smell of gunsmoke and cologne wafting in the air…alongside leftover pizza remains that you try to mask with fabreeze

On that half the job is simple

Effective as you mainly just ensured the place didn’t burn down

Or have the power taken again

Something you’d expect from being a secretary and or cleaner

(You will not say your a maid, Dante kept insisting that maybe he’d get you a proper costume to go with it that you quickly shut down)

And mainly answer the phone when Dante wasn’t there to butt in and take the receiver from you

But on the other hand working at this still unnamed place also means you were working with Dante

And that was a mixed bag in of itself

For as much as he initially intimated you with his display of guns right behind his desk or the sword casually strapped to his back

Or the ungodly amount of times you dealt with him covered head to toe covered in gore and blood

Or the fact he was your boss and could fire you at any moment

Dante’s intimidation factor quickly faded away into mild annoyance from his Dante..ness

Look you aren’t paid enough to deal with this crap-

To others Dante was the demon hunter

A mercenary of well known regard

A hero who saved the day and stopped the forces of hell

A badass with a penchant for overly complicated and dramatic theatrics

And dear god was he known for how he did this all effortlessly while seemingly being the coolest man ever known

But to you he was your annoying boss

This was both affectionately and as an insult due to the amount of times he’d gone out of his way to dump the bills on your desk and high tailed it out of the store using a mission as an eccuse

Dante as your employer is weird plain and simple

He has moments where he toys with you slightly

Pushing your buttons but never pushing too far

Small jokes sent your way but nothing extreme

Knowing when you began to look genuinely upset and stopping before he accidentally crossed the line in the sand

He drapes himself over your shoulders while your trying to fill out his papers

Keyword his

Or he calls you by those god awful nicknames

He calls you a plethora of stuff: babe, baby, hot stuff, sugar

But most embarrassingly and most frequently

“honeypie~”

You’d swear with the amount of times he called you that you could permanently pay for the electricity bill and maybe even the water

A shit eating grin on his face as he drags out the pet name whenever he could in a sing-song manner

(Including in front of clientele and eventually the other members of dmc when they join…and it unfortunately sticks since everyone but Nero partakes in torturing you this way-)

You’ve chased him with his plethora of weapons many times trying to wipe that grin off his face

Yelling his name at the top of your lungs as he hopped over his desk and toppled the stack of still unsigned paperwork

The phone ringing conveniently has saved him too many times when you were just about to get revenge

The most effective threatening tool of them all was the well loved broom you’d swear you’d mastered at this point

But on the other hand Dante is equally kind as he is annoying

When not playfully teasing and joking Dante just talks to you

Sometimes it’s mundane things like asking for recommendations for new schlocky horror flicks to watch

Other times it’s complaining whatever demonic creature he was sent to exterminate

Something he had initially tried to hide from you before you very easily pointed out the literal demon heads he’d impaled on the walls weeks earlier

For all his bravado and being a bit of an ass he’s caring at his core

You see that through his actions that are both loud and clear and quiet and invisible

There are times he makes his care obvious

He watches intently and knows when your tired and pushing yourself to get things done even if your trying to hide it

The subtle lull of your head as exhaustion seeps into your bones

He gets up from whatever he was distracting himself with (typically a magazine of some sort)

Telling you to “take a break there babe. Don’t want you to keel over too soon” though the slight edge to it indicates his worry as he takes the paperwork off your desk and stashes it some place absurdly high

His go too method to get you to stop overworking

other times when you fall asleep at the front desk you wake up to find his coat draped over your shoulders and yourself relocated on a nearby couch

A small sticky note clinging to your face saying “don’t overwork yourself honepie, who else is gonna keep me in check. By the way there’s some leftover pizza for you in the fridge if I’m not back by when you wake up - your favorite devil hunter Dante :)”

How he offers to walk you home or let you stay the night if it was getting particularly late

Though whenever he makes that offer he ruins it with the wiggling of his eyebrows immediately after

And the cheeky grin that by that point your too tired to try and erase off his face

But even then, when he makes that offer you see in crystalline blue eyes the sincerity in them

A smidge of worry and maybe even a crumb of fear

His more subtle care comes in the form of how you find your area more safer than usual

Less muggings let alone demons slinking through the night

Apparently he made it known that these were his stomping grounds and with his reputation most demons knew to stay clear

Same for muggers as well with his name in the underworld

His other silent care comes in the form of finding your favourite snacks eventually stocked at in the small kitchen

It comes from a few stray questions here and there

Or noticing what you packed yourself for lunch/snacks

He never acknowledges it

But you do find he has a small smile when seeing you enjoy what he bought

Content without a thank you because seeing your smile was enough

how the jukebox now seems to contain songs you’d mentioned enjoying out of nowhere

Or songs you’d already liked in the machine playing more often

Because that’s the sort of person Dante was

The man who when you call in sick ends up at your place with wanton soup and medicine

Never asking for anything In return except for you to recover properly

Or The fact he always he always buys you a strawberry sundae alongside his own or makes sure to buy a split pizza incase you didn’t like his toppings

It’s perhaps because of this you keep telling yourself you’ll put off finding another job

That the job market was bad right now even if you’d seen another promising job

Just because seeing his stupid grin when he sees you enter was payment enough even without the cash

“Dante I swear to god! Get back here!”

“Sorry honepie! Got a job to do!!”

“You’re not leaving until you pay the god damn bills you asshole!!! If you can deal with demons then you can deal with me you bastard!!!” Raising the broom you whack his head, making the devil hunter groan and he returns to running for his life out the double doors “also pick a god damn name for this place already! A business needs a name!”

You end up seeing Dante in various particular intimate moments in his life (Even before all the craziness that would come later on down the line)

It first begins when you see the days he’s drained from wear and tear

From the jobs that went bad even if he made it back alive

his shoulders sag even when he tries to act like his cocky self

His grin more strained as blue eyes hold back tears from failure to save someone

You don’t ask

Never have the heart to

But you do find yourself pulling him close even with the height difference

The first time it happens he goes stiff

Still as a statue in such an uncharacteristic manner

Thinking he’s uncomfortable you tried to pull away, an apology at the tip of your tongue when shaky arms pulled you back

Clinging to you as knees buckle and he ends up in the crook of your neck

You don’t mention how his sobs are heartwrenching

Nor that they haunt you with how vulnerable it sounds

Instead you thread fingers through his snowy hair, weaving through the soft locks

You never ask what happened

Instead you say that you’d order pizza tonight, on the house

With a few sobs he tries to argue but you don’t relent

And somehow the stubborn man you called your boss relents

Perhaps for the first time you’d ever seen

It’s later on when these moments happen though few and far between that he opens up bit by bit

It takes about a year but Like small fractures in a dam it eventually breaks and lets out the waterworks

He tells you he had a dad, a stern but caring man who disappeared one day and probably died

He tells you that he had a brother, his twin who was his opposite in almost every way possible down to contrasting favourite colours

The most caring mom in the world who died as flames consumed their home

He could only stay hidden in the closet

Scared and alone

Powerless to it all

How for years he was alone with only a trail of regrets and people he cared for ending up in the crossfire

How he’s only part human (though to be honest you already kinda put that together after he walked off being impaled one day)

All because of him

That despite it all he only ended up failing time and time again

And most surprisingly that he was scared

Scared for you

Because everyone he cared for ended up dead

And that he’s sorry for being selfish and keeping you around despite the risk

That you have to hate him for how annoying he was

For the danger he brought even being in the same room as you

It’s admittedly a lot

But you hold him, letting him get it all out

Hands that had seen so much loss and blood clutching you like you were the last valuable thing in the world and simultaneously made of glass

It just solidifies your words when you tell him that honestly he was a giant pain in the ass

A admittedly terrible boss

A smartass and flirty bastard

But he was a good person

Someone who did his best despite the circumstances

Because no matter how much he was kicked down and spat on he took it with a cocky smile

Never letting the salt in the wound sting in front of others

And that most importantly you can’t guarantee that you won’t get hurt

But you’d stick with him

For some reason despite all the risks he lists off you wanna stay

Your not really sure as to why

But you stay and that’s what matters

The risk he practically begs you to consider

Yet you stay

So in the vulnerable moments you wait for him by the doors

Waiting and ready for him to collapse into your arms

Ignoring the blood and gore that you’d inevitably have to wash out your clothes yet again

But it’s a price to pay when the man you call your friend

Your technical boss who was more like your own employee than anything with how you heckled him to get work done

Your best friend and worst migraine holds you with such fragility

You never confirm with him but you think the last time someone hugged him like this was his mom

All those years ago as the blazing flames surrounded them

It’s perhaps why he clutches you so close

Hoping to not let go and have the past repeat itself

But unlike back then you remind Dante that he’s not powerless anymore

He’s not the scared boy locked in a closet surrounded by the flames

He’s a man with the power to protect those weaker than him

Because he knows what it’s like to be powerless

To pray for a hand to reach out and to now be that hand for others

Despite what he thought you remind him that the truly powerful protect what they love

(Unbeknownst to you, you are that love)

(The beating heart that makes his humanity all the more apparent and his demonic side all the more powerful with something to protect)

All the while you morn the fact that Dante and you are the same age

Both kids with no one seemingly but each other in this world and left to navigate with one another

Your both just kids

You’d heard too many of Dante’s stories about his childhood not to recognize the sight of his brother inside your apartment

White hair slicked back instead of messy locks framing his face

Their near identical features if not for the ominous threatening look in blue eyes that you knew Dante would never direct towards you even if you took the last slice or banned him from strawberry sundaes yet again

You’d think after all the stuff you’d been through due to Dante like the incident with the raccoons out back becoming infused with demon power

Or the amount of times you’d saved his sorry ass from going fully broke

That this would be the worst thing that could happen

An Incorrect assumption

Looking at his definitely evil twin brother you can’t help but sigh and put your hands up in defeat

He told you awhile back about his run In with his twin

Said twin trying to steal his half of the amulet that the half-demon always wore

Well “always wore” besides the times he’d go to take a shower and ask you to hold onto it for him for a bit

Then returning it once he was done, a certain shine of gratitude in his eyes when he sees you polished it for him

Anyways back to the evil twin thing, apparently Vergil gave back said amulet because “he said he could take it back anytime he wanted”

The death glare and that quote alone alerted you to what type of person you had in your apartment

And that’s not even accounting the fact that he’s also part demon and has a real ass katana with him

“So do you want me to write a note for him before you kidnap me? Or do you want me to call him instead?”

To be completely honest after the raccoon incident you can’t even be remotely surprised anymore

But this does either earn you amusement from said definitely evil brother or at least some brownie points for being compliant

“Your cooperating?”

“Listen sir…uh Vergil? I’m assuming your Vergil? Anyways Vergil I’m not paid enough to deal with this….and your brother said I’d be paid overtime if something like this happened. So if anything this a forced paid vacation”

To be honest that last part was mostly you trying to find some good in this admittedly shitty situation

You always had great copping skills or at least that’s what you told yourself

At least you’d hopefully get something out of this besides trauma

And potential scars physical and psychological

Or Maybe even death if your super unlucky and piss off the blue half demon

But that was an if

A big if due to the fact he hasn’t already cut you down implying he needed you for something

And hopefully that something would give Dante enough time to save you

God forbid he doesn’t or else you’d become a demon and claw your way out of hell to torture him with undone paperwork

And with that you end up as hostage/bait in a literal hell tower that spouted up from the ground

Vergil and some weird guy called Arkham holding you at the top of the tower like some princess

Guess in this case Dante would be your proverbial knight in shinning armour while Vergil was the dragon or something

The analogy wasn’t too far off with that weird ass jester occasionally popping up to piss you off when Vergil left the room

You couldn’t wait for the long nosed bastard to have some lead shoved inbetween his eyes for the fact he kept joking about your dead expression whilst being kidnapped

Unlike him you had some scraps of dignity you wanted to save

Plus what was even the point of kicking and screaming when you were up against a half demon and whatever else they had up their sleeves

Speaking of said other half demon though

Surprisingly you didn’t entirely mind Vergil

Was he an ass? Definitely

But at least you could have a conversation with him

Something that surprises even him when you spotted him pulling out a book of poetry

Specifically William Blake

Yeah, surprise surprise somehow that “useless” class in high school your parents hounded you about wasting your time on actually became relevant

You’d say you’d told them if it weren’t for the fact you never wanted to see either of them again

He reads quietly aloud not expecting you to finish the last part for him

“The sun descending in the west, the evening star does shine; The birds are silent in their nest, and I must seek for mine-”

“The moon, like a flower, in heavens high bower, with silent delight, sits and smiles on, the night”

For the first time you see something crack in his stoic demeanour

a spark of something when he then turns to you

Surprise? Maybe even a hint of some sort of longing

You don’t know what he went through after he was separated from Dante, but you can only guess it was just as hard as his twin up to this point

So maybe finding someone with the same love for flowery words of a dead guy was comforting in some weird way

At least as comforting it could get for someone who hated humanity

He walks over to where you sat on the cold ground with your wrists and ankles bound, asking if you knew more of Blake’s work and when you nod

At that there’s a moment of silence and then he asks for your interpretation of old words on faded yellow pages

This leads you to discuss with Dante’s brother without being called a “useless human” 5 seconds in

Honestly sitting atop the weird demon tower debating with him wasn’t what you pictured

But it is a sure if a lot better than what you originally imagined

Mostly because it’s actually pretty fun

Vergil unlike Dante seems to like debating and discussing

Something that was hard to do with Dante because he either brushed it off or was more prone to changing the subject

You don’t blame him for it, stuff like this wasn’t his forte

But it was nice having someone to talk to about it

The two of you start off at first with Blake

Interpretations of his poems meanings

Particular passages either of you enjoyed

That evolves into discussion of other poets

Poe, Dickinson, Shakespeare, Wilde, frost and Shelley

But it later devolves into world views

Specifically his opinion on humanity

Because despite the fact that Vergil is part human and his fully demon father married a mortal woman and seemingly abandoned that part of himself

Vergil ended up despising his humanity

Thinking of it as inferior to his demonic half

Well, maybe hate was a strong word but he definitely looked down on humans

Yourself included but maybe a bit less considering he was talking with you instead of scowling silently as he did before

He was the opposite of Dante in every way

While Dante embraced his humanity Vergil shunned his own

But Vergil accepted his demonic half whilst Dante still remained hesitant of it

One brother was loud, the other silent

One Red and one blue

One Warm and one cold

Complete and total opposites in every manner of the word

While you don’t agree with Vergils views you do try to understand them

You make the effort of understanding him because you think he deserves as much

Not only because he was important to Dante but because like Dante he also was your age

He was a kid like you are even if he tried to act mature

He thinks his mom abandoned him that day in favour of Dante

Telling him she didn’t wouldn’t change his mind especially from you of all people

A human who’d never met her or was there for that event

Especially if Dante had tried and still couldn’t get through to him

So instead you reason with him in other such ways

Sparda had sealed off the demon from the human world for a reason

Didn’t that indicate something to him?

Plus he was already powerful enough by every other standard possible

He could outmatch any human that came his way

He raised a god damn hell tower to prove it

He was already top of the proverbial food chain with enough power

Dipping his toes into this though could shift those tides

Admittedly you knew jack shit about hell and it’s hierarchy besides the small tidbits Dante explained

And even then those snippets of information were from the small stories his dad told when he was younger so it was dubious at best

You’re not sure if Mr. Sparda had sanitized stories for his sons or if he told them the truth and didn’t cushion the blow

But it safe to say even the most powerful of humans couldn’t compare to the upper crust of hell

Plus the added bonus of It being closed off for who knows how long giving an even bigger question mark as to what’s down there

Because if hell is anything like humanity things change and demons get stronger

For all he knows he could be inviting that Mundus guy his father went against to his doorstep

And seeing how Sparda apparently had a difficult time defeating him at full power the odds weren’t in anyone’s favour

That last part seems to shake him a bit more than you’d initially thought

You see the stone cold demeanour crack slightly

“Are you calling me weak?”

“I’m not, Far from it. But all I’m saying is that opening that portal is opening pandora’s box.” For a moment you pause watching his stewing expression “there’s no undoing it if you do and no telling what your unleashing on not only everyone else but yourself. Your not guaranteed anything from this, let alone the power you seek ”

Distantly if you listen hard enough you swear you hear gunshots ring out on the lower floors of the tower

The familiar rhythm and melody of ebony and ivory’s gunshots

You’d heard them too many times to be able to memorize the sound

But along with that your alerted to the fact that someone else besides Dante is in the tower

Something Vergil seems less than amused with

Not to mention the fact he looks like he’s perpetually 5 seconds away from stabbing that Arkham guy nearly any time the man opens his mouth

Something you can’t exactly complain about since you’d also found him plain weird

And that’s saying something

The only thing out that bald freak’s mouth that you agreed with was that a storm was approaching

Both physical and metaphorical as you sit when the rain begins to fall

Sitting atop this ancient tower of stone you can’t help but find some irony in it all

Sparda had sealed away this unholy tower to stop the passage from one world to the next

But ultimately it’s one of Sparda’s sons who tries to resurrect it and undo his fathers work while the other wants to topple it for humanity’s sake as his father did

It was like a twisted form of jenga with this Tower of Babel

With you unfortunately at the top of the tower waiting for it to topple

The moon hangs high in the sky, Illuminating the droplets that shine

The pale silver light reminding you of both of the twins hair

Dante’s is left down to frame his face, free and messy just like he is

Whilst Vergils is pushed back and sleek, professionalism and an air of confidence in it

Never had you been as relived in your life until that point when you see Dante’s knotted messy mop of hair

Slightly stained with blood and viscera that soon began to wash away under the rain

You can’t help but yell his name in sheer excitement, his eyes light up

Lurching forwards your stopped not only by the fact that your currently tied up with uncomfortable ass rope but also the fact that Vergil unsheathe his sword in front of you

A indignant huff escaping him

(From your yell or his brother your not sure…probably both considering him)

You see your reflection in the blade alongside the hollow presence of the moon

Her silent presence a small comfort in this entire situation despite her impartialness in helping

(You do not see the blue wearing brother glance down at you for the briefest of moments)

You can’t do anything but watch as the two fight

Blow after blow

Slash after slash

Round after round fired from ebony and ivory

All the while you stay huddled to the ground trying to desperately stay out the way

Your works cut out for you though on account the two seem to pivot away if they get too close

No matter if either was about to win Dante would pull back if either him or Vergil got too close to you for comfort

And you think even Vergil seemed to do the same for some reason

Maybe he wanted to kill you later or something

But the turning point comes and red stains the cold ground

Yamato impaling itself through Dante’s chest while you can only watch

You can’t help but scream his name again as he falls and the necklace is torn from his neck

The heirloom he seemed to only trust you with being stolen

Vergil smoothed his hair back under the rain in a comedically villain manner that takes you out of it for a moment

This is your life now

Captive atop a tower while two half demon brothers duked it out

Dante twitches, ready to get up but Vergil takes Dante’s own sword and stabs him with it

Vergil and Arkham talk for a moment but your too distracted to pay their words any attention

Not when your focused on Dante

and then a beam of light shoots out Dante’s sword and the sword changes?

And then Dante’s back up again

This all happens in the span of a couple minutes the while your gaping at the scene

Because a) you knew Dante had some type of magic deus ex machina bullshit but you didn’t know he could get stabbed multiple times and survive. Mind you, you’d seen him stabbed once or twice before and walk it off but several times in a row was something you didn’t expect him t just walk off either

plus b) all this time he could get impaled several times over and yet his ass would run like you were coming at him with a chainsaw when you were trying to whack him on the head with a broom a few days back

You don’t get much time to focus on that anymore

Not when Vergil picks you up and walks to the edge of the tower

All the while Dante stumbles to his feet

A bloodied cough erupting from his chest as he tried to stumble forwards with his arm outstretched to you

“Oh please god no, can’t you just take the stairs-“ before you get to finish your plea Vergil takes a leap off the tower with you firmly on his shoulder grasping him for dear life “DANTE!!”

Never had you thought that your life would end up like this

And it all came from a singular job ad

#devil may cry #dmc #dmc3 #dmc virgil #dmc dante #dante sparda #vergil sparda #Dante #Vergil #dmc x reader #dmc x you #devil may cry x reader #dante x reader #vergil x reader #devil may cry x you #this took way to long #devils may love?

616 notes · View notes

cazshmere · 11 months ago

Text

Synastry Observations Pt.2

materialist🔖

DISCLAIMER: These are just my personal observations and are meant for entertainment purposes only; it may not resonate with everyone due to the nuances of astrology. Please respect my work and avoid copying or stealing it. Enjoy reading!! 🍊⭐️

🍊 Mars in the 12th house synastry has got to be one of the worst things 😭. It’s confusing and exhausting. The Mars person seems to harbour some sort of irrational animosity towards the house person in a very passive-aggressive way. The house person can sense this too, but they are unsure if they’re making it up or not. Also, it’s such a blockage; you could be really close to each other and know of each other, but the conversation WOULD TAKE AGES to start because neither the house person nor the Mars person wants to initiate conversation. It’s like there’s an invisible barrier between you guys 🥲

🍊 Venus in the 8th house/ in Scorpio’s first romantic relationship or situation always ends up hurting them. I’ve seen this countless times where their first experience with romance either ends in heartbreak, unrequited love, or just a missed opportunity. This heartbreak helps these individuals immensely transform, and they might prefer to isolate themselves from anything romance-related for a long period of time. Honestly I think this is a canon event for every Scorpio/8th house Venus that I’ve met, including me lmao and especially if there are Venus-Saturn hard aspects, dear lord, sending love to all my scorp/8th house placements fr🫶🏻🥲❤️‍🩹

🍊 Something I’ve observed with Libra placements, especially the moon, is that when they’re in a relationship, it becomes the focal point of their life. They might go as far as changing career paths to be closer to their partner, altering their style to match their partner’s preferences, or adjusting their personality to be more appealing to their partner (yes I’m sure most of us do this to some extent but it’s a bit excessive for these peeps😭). Their relationship becomes such a central part of their identity that if anything goes wrong, it can feel devastating for them. For instance, I have a friend who is a Libra moon, and she always refers to her partner as “my boyfriend” instead of his name, even though we all know him personally, like gurl come on he’s got a name haha😭

🍊 Moon in the 12th house synastry can equate to the house person opening up to the moon person or just feeling extremely vulnerable around them. They’d share things with the moon person that they dare not share with anyone else. This synastry could also mean staying up late in the night and throwing your sleep away just to talk to each other 🧿

🍊 12th house synastry could also have undertones of enemies-to-lovers (the lovers part only if you ever get together, that is) because there’s this energy where you don’t know why the other person acts hostile/passive-aggressive towards you, ignores you, or sends you mixed signals that makes you dislike them but at the same time, you can’t stop fantasizing/dreaming about them in all these romantic scenarios or them showing up in your dreams outta nowhere like??😭

🍊 7th/8th and even 10th (to some extent) house synastry could indicate that one of the two, either the house person or the planet person (mostly the house person), copies the other, be it mannerisms, clothes, slang, or even certain traits of the other’s personality 💀. It’s because they notice how much attention or admiration the planet person garners, so to obtain that same kind of attention and recognition the house person might try to emulate the planet person 🫤

🍊 7th house Mars synastry can be very annoying and tiresome (especially for the house person). The Mars person could be a bit too much for the house person. The Mars person could get very petty and passive-aggressive towards the house person for no reason (this could go vice versa too). Yes there is sexual attraction and y’all could motivate/support each other through stuff but at the same time it’s draining asf, a big no no for me when it comes to synastry 🥲

🍊 Moon square Saturn synastry can cause delays when it comes to emotional attachment between two people, but once these two finally connect, it’s ride or die typa relationship fr 🥺🫂

🍊 Moon/Mercury in the 1st/5th/9th house synastry is very exciting and fun-loving, with lots of playful teasing and bantering with each other 😋🥰

🍊Moon /Mercury in the 2nd/4th/8th/10th/12th house synastry makes both parties very sensitive to each other’s words because these houses reflect our self esteem/self worth, the deepest parts of ourselves, our core, our reputation etc. A little bit of critique can also be taken personally by either party. Even harmless jokes could be taken in the wrong way and arguments could occur (especially if there isn’t 3rd/5th/9th/11th house synastry or any easy aspects in the synastry chart)

🍊 When someone's planets fall in your 8th house, they intuitively sense your true and deep needs related to that planet. For example, if someone's Venus is in your 8th house, they will know how to love you in a way that makes you feel unconditionally loved and appreciated. If their Mercury is in your 8th house, they will understand how to communicate with you on a profound level, meeting your need for deep and meaningful conversation. If their Mars is in your 8th house, they will instinctively know how to meet your sexual needs and desires and please you in bed🖤❤️‍🔥

banner credits : @anitalenia <3

2K notes · View notes

specshroom · 1 year ago

Note

hello hello, I stumbled across your writing and wanted to say how much I enjoyed “Blood In The Water” I was curious about how reader struck that deal with all the mer-creatures in the first place?! did they try to eat reader too? or did one/many have an attachment or attraction since reader grew up around that place? the whistling was soooo cool, like they were dogs trained to a command! does that mean they had struggles with communication at first? do the mer-peeps understand language or just body language? I’m full of questions 😂❤️ it was just so enthralling and love a good morally grey character! is reader struggling to make ends meet and that’s why they do this? or is it more of ‘it’s either me or them’ type scenario? OR reader is just like this is the easiest way to get money?! 👀 oml lemme stop here this is getting quite long— LOVE UR STUFF 😚

I'M SO GLAD IT INTERESTED YOU SO MUCH (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

I like to keep things up to interpretation cus I think it's more fun BUT I can answer a few of those.

- They definitely struggled at first lol. The merfolk can't speak human language and don't understand it. Humans can't speak mer-language either because it's mostly high pitched clicks and chitters. Reader figures out that the closest they can get to making sounds the merfolk understand is by whistling because it's loud and high pitched enough that they can hear it easily even through the water.

- They do share a lot of body language and mannerisms with humans (like kissing👀) so that made things easier.

- The merfolk do recognise Reader as a local and that made them more trustworthy. (Later on they marked the bottom of Readers boat so they know it's them🥺)

I wrote a little drabble to answer the "How did this happen?" question.

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

You sigh as you row your way out of the canal and into the open waters.

Your new patron lounges in his seat on the opposite side of the gondola, staring up at the clear blue sky. You preferred doing business at night when it's quiet, few braved these waters at night. Alas dwindling funds force you to suffer the business of the day. There's just too much comotion in the daytime, too many tourists.

Its been like this since the first rich fool "discovered" that your relatively small and unimpressive lake town actually boasts some magnificent and horrific monsters in the depths of the decievingly calm waters surrounding it. Now flocks of fools come to "test their bravery" by crossing the dangerous waters.

Conservationists and locals convinced them that hunting down the monsters in the lake would lead to environmental catastrophe and the snobs decided that it would be a better investment as a tourist attraction.

"Don't you get bored of this?"

Your patron slices the silence in half. You blink out of your thoughts, releasing the iron grip you had on your oar.

"I could give you a different job."

The well dressed man's tone is almost convincingly sympathetic. You keep your gaze locked onto the familiar waters ahead of you...until you hear the distinct sound of coins being jostled against one another. That changes things.

You hesitantly turn to where the stranger sits comfortably, grinning with pride.

"I thought so, it's always the same with you locals."

The tourist opens his money bag and takes out one gold coin. At least enough for a small meal.

"What would you do for it?"

He plays with the coin in his fingers before tossing it out of the boat and into the water. The carelessness with which he tosses his gold makes your blood run hot. Through the thick permanent fog that hangs over the waters, you can just barely see the gold coin as it sinks into the abyss and your stomach growls pitifully.

He holds out the pouch over the side of the boat, dangling it over the water.

"Would you dive for it?"

The sick thing is that you actually consider it. You stare intensely at the stupid pouch that could keep you going for a good while.

The man suddenly drops the pouch and you jump forward to catch it but he yanks it back up by the drawstring before it can touch the surface of the water. He laughs at his cruel humour and your blood reaches it's boiling point.

You don't know why it was that patron in particular that made you snap or why that bad day in particular made you finally put the knife skills your father taught you to good use.

But before either of you know it his laughter turns to bloody choking. You scramble off of him, panic clear on your face. He reaches for the knife in his neck but it's useless. His body sags over the edge of the boat and his blood mixes with the water. You watch with wide eyes as he takes his last struggled breaths.

It's silent for a while before you take your eyes off of the man Infront of you to look down at your red stained hands. You look around as if anyone could've seen your crime through the fog anyway.

After a while of just staring blankly at the still body Infront of you, you try to compose yourself and lift him off the side of the gondola. You manage to tip him over and watch his body sink down.

You stare at the corpse fading deeper into the water. Just as you ready yourself to leave the scene something rocks the gondola slightly and you fall on your ass, gripping the side of the boat.

You feel a breath on the side of your cheek and jump when you look over and see two big pitch black eyes staring at you from over the side of the boat. Your skin turns to ice, unable to move.

You hear chittering from the other side and jump again as another one peers over the furnished wood of the boat. The first one takes your frozen hand in their cold clawed hand and inspects the drying blood covering it.

They stick their tongue out and slowly lick all the way up your shaking hand, licking away at the blood as if cleansing you of your sin. The other makes a clicking sound that sounds oddly like laughter.

Once all the blood on your hand has been licked off, the creature looks up at you for a moment before disappearing below the surface once more. The other one doesn't look like it wants to go but a few clicks from the water convince it to slowly lower back into the depths.

You lean over the side of the gondola trying to get a better look at the creature before it leaves. You deflate when you don't see so much as a ripple in the water.

Suddenly, just as you were sure they weren't coming back, the same one from moments ago bursts from the water. In a second it cups your cheek and kisses you. It's hard and deep, more passionate than you'd ever had before. The creature releases you and this time before it leaves it gives a little wave with its strange webbed hand. You wave back, a little dazed, as the monster dives back into the water.

You have to sit there for a good while staring at the pouch of coin the tourist left behind and then back to the murky waters, touching your lips while contemplating what the hell just happened.

#monster x human #monster x reader #monster lover #monster fucker #monster boyfriend #monsterfucker #nsft fantasy #merman #merfolk x reader #merfolk #teratophillia #terato

1K notes · View notes

proseandpretrichor · 9 months ago

Text

Fateful Love; Sandor Clegane x Reader

Summary: Sandor had convinced himself is affections were only one sided, but as fate continued to entertwine the two of you maybe he would be proved wrong

Warnings: Smut! P in V, Oral female recieving. 18+

Never did you think you would be here right now. But when Caitlyn Stark took the time away from Bran’s bedside to beg you to go with Ned Stark, to help him look after her only daughters, to protect them. How were you supposed to refuse that?

So here you were sitting on a horse, in the cold and sleet trailing behind the sniveling prince, Joffrey, who rode behind Lord Stark and the King.

That is when you noticed him, Sandor Clegane, or the Hound as you quickly realized he was more frequently called. He was riding behind you, but close. Yet you did not hear a peep from the man, which struck you in awe since it was no secret the sheer size of him. Three days you had ridden in the same position along the procession and you wracked my brain for a single moment in which you heard his voice and couldn’t recall one time. This struck a cord of embarrassment through you causing you to shift in your seat towards him Seeing you in his peripheral he turned his gaze upon you and raised one of his thick eyebrows in question. You simply graced him with a small smile and dipped your head quickly as a sign of recognition of his presence.

This was the first time you rendered the gigantic man speechless, but it was not the last.

Over the coming days, the King’s company grew to be comfortable around the Stark’s, and thus many of the King’s court grew fond of you. Quickly it became apparent to all who stayed in your presence even for a few moments, why you were so beloved by the Stark family.

You had the innate ability to meet any and every individual where they stood. Ned Stark could be found walking with you, discussing the various policies that had now become his responsibility as the newly appointed hand. He would frequently ask for your thoughts on such matters, or how to inflict new motions without ruffling a large amount of feathers-it was no secret how poorly the King and his advisors dealt with such diplomacy. You would always give fair and wise counsel, which never seemed to surprise the Stark lord, but awed those who overheard including Sandor. You were always respectful and cautious with your words so that if you showed disagreement even the most arrogant, stubborn men saw your reason.

Therefore, you often sat with the King and the Lord during meals. Mostly because the King found you beautiful, a refreshing face. That could also be apparent to all. Sandor secretly agreed, he appreciated the notion that you never refused food or drink when it was offered to you, thus you had many curves, and while he couldn’t see all of your skin, Sandor had no doubt it would be soft and pillowy to the touch. He shamefully thought of that simple fact too often when the cold, mushy, and wet ground kept him awake in the night.

Eager to please his father, what once began as an obligation to entertain your presence, bloomed into genuine delight in your presence when Joffrey saw you. Which also in turn delighted Sandor, who thus could freely gaze upon you more throughout those days traveling. When Joffrey came to collect Sansa, you often would find yourself chaperoning the pair with Sandor.

You would walk at least ten paces behind the two young teens, paying mind to giving their conversations the privacy you thought they deserved.

One day, during such an outing, Joffrey stopped and turned to you. “Lady Sansa and I were in discussion about our dream lives. I have heard the Lady’s and shared mine, but I wished to know your’s, Lady Y/N.”

“I will oblige in your discussion, my prince. Thank you for the thought of including me.” With that you turned and paused brows creased in deep thought. “I think I would like to live nowhere, as in completely isolated from anyone… maybe in the forest next to a meadow, or in a field next to some stream, lake, or river.” You then nodded very pleased with your decision. “Yes, my prince, that is what I desire.”

“But Y/N...” Sansa exclaimed. “What of a husband or a family? Surely you have entertained such a thing!”

“Yes, I will say I have.” Sansa rushed towards you, Joffrey close behind. She clasped onto your hand and drugged you to sit on a fallen tree with Joffrey placing himself on the other side of you. Sandor decided to lean against a nearby tree a little ways away, head turned to show his disinterest, but ear pointed to your figure. All waited in bated breath for your next words.

“I suppose if I was so lucky,” you began a far away look beginning to gloss over your gaze, “I would like a big and strong husband, seeing as I am not a dainty woman myself.” You paused to pat your stomach earning laughs from the children. “However I would want to fatten him up a little, not enough to weaken his strength, but to just soften him up a little. That would be a nice cuddle, don’t you think” Nudging Sansa, who began blushing profusely. You continued, “And since we shall live in such a place he would need to find a way to work the land, so we may grow the food we eat, and to chop down wood for our modest cottage and firewood for the winter. Maybe we would come to collect a few animals, such as a goat, sheep, pig, chickens, maybe a dog so that we may rarely go into town except for the necessities. Then I would drag him to get such things as books, rarer groceries, and garments I cannot make.”

“What of children?” Joffrey urged on. “Do you want children, Lady Y/N?”

“Yes, sweet prince, I am fond of the idea. And of course if and however many my husband should wish for I will do my best to make it a reality. I have always been fond of children..” Pinching Sansa’s rosy cheek you brought her close enough to kiss her temple, who in return threw her arms around you. “Sometimes, I ponder what little versions of me and my husband I might nurture one day.”

“I hope that will happen, Y/N!” Sansa all but shrieked, “I want to see and hold your little babes!”

You paid little mind to the girl’s excitement, patting her on the head fondling urging everyone to continue on their walk.

But Sandor couldn’t shake the picture you painted from his thoughts. He fit the description of a man you would like. He knew it was very unlikely to happen but that little nugget of hope spurred his affections to continue growing in size. And as he layed in bed that night, he fell asleep to the thought of coming home to you, children and dogs racing towards him and you beaming up at him and welcoming him back into your arms.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃ ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

Life at the castle in King’s Landing was without a doubt more stressful than that on the road. It became very apparent of the disdain for the Stark lord, thus you made it your sole duty to keep a close watch on the little ladies.

You would secretly taste a bite of their meals before they were served to the family. You would accompany Arya to her sword fighting lessons, and nurse any bruises or cuts she sustained. You would continue to trail behind any interaction between Joffrey, who became more insufferable by the minute, and Sansa. Often you would rarely be found in your chambers at night instead you would be in a chair bedside one of the girls. Body bend and arms propping up your head before you would find yourself asleep in the morning.

Such was one of those mornings. You carefulling clasped sleeping Arya’s door shut and traveling down the halls towards your rooms to get yourself ready for the day. You really did need to find a better sleeping position, the creak in your neck becoming a problem for your stiff neck to be able to move till later in the morning. This ailment distracted you from the bodies moving towards you in the corridor.

“Watch where you're going!” Joffrey’s shrieky voice snapped you out of deep thought.

Looking up to see he had side stepped your trudging path. Causing you to very narrowly crash into Sandor before stopping in front of him.

“Damn! I am so sorry, your highness!” You quickly turned towards the prince offering him an especially low bow for your mistake. Seemingly pleased with your groveling, Joffrey snapped back his walk with a typical roll of his bulging eyes.

“I am truly sorry Ser Clegane, forgive me,” you murmured to the man in front of you.

“Not a knight.” He gruffly supplied, eyes staring down at your shorter frame.

“I am well aware of that. However, I respect you very much. Therefore, I shall continue to address you with such respect.” With that you maneuvered around him and carried on towards your chambers. Just before you turned the corner, you called over your shoulder, “I wish you a wonderful day, Ser Clegane!” before you disappeared from his vision completely.

Thus you rendered Sandor speechless once again. He had never been treated in such a high manor being reduced down to nothing but a brute and an animal. He was at a war with himself. Part of him knew he should follow the prince and continue his task of protecting him, but the other part of him urged him to turn around and march after you. To scoop you up into his arms and pin you against the stone wall, demanding to know what your words meant. To implore you to share if you had affections for him as he did for you. And if you miraculously did, he would kiss you senseless and hold you for all of the time he had left on earth. He would unclasp his armor instantly, place you on a horse, and lead you away from the castle to build you to the life you dreamed to have.

Yet he didn’t, Sandor instead glanced back once more in the direction you left and followed after the prince.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃ ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

You were in a state of shock. The king died and Joffrey was immediately crowned king. Your beloved friend and lord was beheaded in front of not only your eyes but his daughters eyes. And thus since then King’s Landing has been rendered to a state of utter and complete chaos.

Yet here and now you were faced with a monstrous choice. Sansa had chosen to stay both for the hope of a better life in the favor of the King, despite her name, and for the Stark name itself.

But Arya now stood before you claiming she would no longer stay at King’s Landing and that she and Sandor were leaving and she needed you to come with her. That this was her turn to repay you for your lifetime of service.

You felt as though your body, heart, soul and mind were being split, each sister taking your livelihood. You did not want to abandon Sansa in this wretched place with him. She still had much to learn and followed young and naive notions. Yet, Arya was littler than her and partaking in what could be a greater threat than Sansa. Her sword skills were not fully honed and Sandor couldn’t know very much of the ways of little stubborn girls.

You did not know what to do. The battle completely evident in your eyes, so Sandor grabbed hold of you and shook you till you gave him your attention.

“Come with me,” he begged selfishly. “Not for the girls, for yourself, for your dream!”

All you could do was look into his soft brown eyes. You didn’t even feel yourself nod, you didn’t feel anything until Sandor tucked you into his side with his arm wrapped around your waist and led you behind Arya to the stables.

Turning back one last time, Sandor watched you shed one single tear looking back at King’s Landing. That was the first tear he ever saw you give freely, before your chest heaved due to a massive breath, you shuddered and urged your horse forward. Away from the city and away from your past.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃ ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

You surprisingly loved wondering with Arya and Sandor. You found it completely freeing.

Sandor also loved it, although his grumpy and growly demeanor portrayed otherwise. He was thrilled to be able to have a direct and constant hand in your health and safety.

He was doing his best to give you all the food you could eat when you were starving, evenly dumping some of his portion into yours silently when he noticed you didn’t have your usual sleepy content post meal face he was familiar with.

He always sat close by, when you laid down to sleep each night. He wanted you to receive all the rest you needed for the next day, knowing that while you were strong and could defend yourself when needed, you were still not nearly as skilled as himself or Arya, which caused him great unease and little sleep to your great dismay such as now.

You were restless tonight, rolling over to give your shoulder a break. That is when you noticed Sandor sitting on a log above you staring into the slowly dying fire. “You should sleep too, Sandor.”

For several moments the only response you received was a grunt, before he finally muttered. “I’m fine. Gotta keep watch.” That caused you to rise from your sleep matt. “Do you keep every night?” To which you received another affirmative grunt.

You got up to sit on the log next to him closer than you ever had before-shoulder to shoulder and thigh pressed to his thigh. You then thumped your head against his shoulder, the crown of your head kissing the unbearded skin of his neck causing a shiver to set fire up his spine.

“I can watch sometimes too you know, if there was a threat I could hold them off long enough for you to wake up and take care of it. You shouldn’t have to shoulder all of the burden, Sandor.”

“And you’re not going to take on any of the burden… end of story” he retorted with a tone of finality.

“Very well, I will just have to take extra care of you then won’t I hon.” He just let your statement drift off into the air, not trusting his voice. You did not urge him to respond either, knowing him possibly more than any other human in his life. You were content with his presence and his silence, choosing to curl up into his side further.

Sandor sighed to feign annoyance, but was all too willinging to wrap and arm around you and tuck you closer to him, his large body shielding you from the night chill, while he was lost in thought. You couldn’t have

The next day and the days following you made good of the words you spoke to him.

Sometimes mending his clothes, stitching the worn fabric into a whole garment again. You would never tell him that this was just a tactic to see him shirtless, and that it may have been worthwhile to just buy a new shirt when they reached town.

When you noticed Sandor sliding into his seat stiffly or grunting while he moved, you were more than happy to offer to massage his sore and tired muscles.

Thus he was now shoved to a sitting position on the ground as you stood in between his legs, brows furrowed as you removed what remained of his beat up armor. Triumphantly clapping your hands once the pieces were tossed onto the ground beside you. “Where does it ache?” You questioned.

“Shoulders.” He all but growled not out of anger, but in disbelief that this was a reality and not one of his many fantasies.

Humming you placed your soft hands delicately onto his broad frame and began pressing into his muscles, forming small circles to feel for the tense tissue below. Once you hit a sore spot you applied a slightly firmer grip as you began to work out the kinks and knots that had formed during Sandor’s consistent labor.

After a few minutes, the giant of a man began to relax and lean into your touch, head bowing in relief as reprieve washed over his body.

Before he could stop it, his forehead continued forward before it was stopped by your soft tummy with a thunk, causing you to sigh in content as you continued your ministrations.

Another time he would have been embarrassed for such an action, but in this moment he just relished in being comforted by the woman he loved.

All too soon you finished, brushing his hair behind his ear before stepping back. Sandor had yet to raise his head from its lowered position or make a sound.

Face drawn up in worry, you grasped his scruffy chin and raised it so his eyes had no choice but to meet yours, “Are you alright, Sandor? Did I hurt you?” you questioned softly, eyes searching for any clue into his mind.

“No, never. You could never hurt me.” Sandor allowed himself to lean into the warmth of your hand. “Thank you, love.”

“I don’t need thanks from you, you know I would do anything in my power for you hon. Lay down and rest for me, I’ll get you if something requires your attention.”

And for the first time in his life, Sandor obliged, heart warmed from your care. He laid down on the ground and closed his eyes. While the old him would have felt shame in forsaking his duty for his own needs, all he felt in this moment was your love and care. The last thought ringing in his mind before sleep overtaking him was that from this moment onward he would do everything in his power to earn more of it from you and greedily take any of it you freely offered him.

This was the first time Sandor felt loved by someone, but you certainly made sure it wouldn’t be his last.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃ ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

You were more frightened in this moment than you could ever recall being. When Brienne of Tarth managed to throw Sandor from the cliff you felt your heart fall with him.

Without thinking you instantly turned your back to his assailants and raced down the hill to find him praying for him not to be dead.

There you found him begging Arya to relieve him of his misery doing his best to goad her into his wishes. You stood frozen as she refused, simply choosing to take his coins and leave him for dead instead.

You painstakingly waited till she and Brienne were out of sight before rushing to his side, mortified at the extent of his wounds he sustained in addition to the festering gash in his neck. But what crushed you the most was his eyes, there was no liquid golden fire in his brown eyes, they were dull and dark showcasing the true weariness he has carried all of his life.

“Please love,” he muttered weakly, clasping the wrist that was petting his hair, you not knowing what to do to ease his pain at this moment, paralyzed with fear. “You must go, you must leave me. I believe this is as far as I am going to go.”

You shook your head violently, fat droplets ever streaming down your face, “I cannot, I will not! You will make it Sandor, you have to make it!”

“Do not waste your efforts on me, Y/N. You have your whole life yet to live. You have dreams that are yet to be fulfilled. Go fulfill them, love.”

“They have been fulfilled, daft idiot!” you yelled, grasping his face tightly between your hands, “You have fulfilled them. My dreams lie with you… they only exist because you do. And if you die-” a sob choking up your words, “My dreams die with you, my life dies with you, I will continue as a lifeless body, waiting for my fate so my soul may return to yours!” You stood up suddenly full with emotion chest heaving with distraught, “So you have to try, Sandor, you have to. If not for yourself, try for me, fight for me, live for me.” “Alright my love, alright! I yield for you.” Those were the only words he could muster, overwhelmed by your pleas and confessions.

Indeed he did yield, over the following weeks he let you pester over every little thing.

You cooked tirelessly to infuse bone broth with meat still left on the bone, more vegetables than Sandor would have preferred but still swallowed when you lifted it to his lips.

You cleaned his wounds, stitched the larger gashes closed wincing every time you pierced his skin, applied salve and bandaged every little knick you could find. All while he stared wordlessly ahead not uttering a single complaint.

When the sun set you demanded he rested whether he claimed he was rested or not, guiding his head to rest on your thick thighs while you stroked his hair, his scars, and his cheeks till his breath evened out.

He let you remove his torn and bloody clothes, sitting perfectly still as you used a spare cloth to remove as much of the grime and dried blood as you could before dressing him in clean clothes once more.

He even conceded to let you wash his hair, leaning back against a rock, head hanging off the edge as you poured water over his crown, eyes fluttering closed as you threaded your fingers through his hair combing knots out of his hair and cleansing his scalp of any filth that darken his locks further.

It was because of you that a few short weeks later he was back on his feet sitting in an old tavern drinking mead in the warmth radiating from the fire in the hearth, looking more alive then he did before his battle and his fall.

And you were glowing under the golden hues beaming across the room from the dancing flames. A small but radiating smile of content graces your features as you quietly sit beside him sipping from your mug as you watch the townspeople, talk and laugh and be merry.

Feeling his gaze bore into the side of your face, you turned to Sandor, “Well, now that you are better, what do you wish to see or do, hon?”

A pregnant pause laid over the pair of you causing you to wonder if you spoke loud enough over the cheers and conversations surrounding you.

Finally his deep voice reached your ears, “I intend to show you my gratitude for your grace and patience. Then when I am satisfied with my performance, I am going to follow you till you find your paradise and once you do I will build you a house.”

You dropped your jaw in shock at his blunt confession. This did not deter him from rising to his feet, swinging his leg around the bench and clasping his hand over your wrist and urging you to follow him to the room you both paid for upstairs.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃ ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

After following you into the small room, he latched the door shut and moved to stand before you, eyes searching for any sign of discomfort or hesitation.

When he found none, he slid one large muscled arm around your waist and pulled you against his chest, the other hand moving to cup the back of your neck angling your face towards him.

Your breath hitched as he moved so his lips were only a few inches away from yours before he paused, “Do you wish for this? May I continue?”

Instantly, you pushed onto your toes and closed the distance pressing your lips firmly against his as a response.

This pulled a grunt of surprise from the man, but his surprise did not keep him from returning the kiss feverishly.

Lips glide against lips, and you move your hands up his sides to rest against his firm, broad chest.

The hand clasped against your neck moving to thread through the locks of hair and the base of your skull before tugging lightly to better angle your mouth to his.

You gasp toward the sensation, Sandor using the opportunity to poke his tongue out and trace each of your lips before messaging against yours.

With a groan, his hands left their respective places to slide against the back of your thighs before gripping the fat as he hoisted you effortlessly into his arms.

You swing each of your legs around his thick waist in response, and your arms encircling his neck resting your biceps onto his shoulders and you press your lips harder into his.

With a few large strides, Sandor crossed the room before resting your back gently onto the bed.

You were too distracted by the feel of his body to unwrap yourself from him, causing a deep resounding chuckle to vibrate in his chest before cupping your face and pulling his lips from yours.

You whine at the loss of contact trying to follow his lips, but he pulled his head too far out of your reach.

“I know, my love,” He assured as he brushed strands from your face to rest along with the rest of your hair splayed out around your head like a crown. “Let me take care of you, as you did for me. Let me praise and worship you, so that you may know what I have to offer and what you shall receive for the rest of your life. Will you honor me with this, please love, let me do this for you.” He pleaded, causing the butterflies to dance around your stomach before fluttering their way to your core, lighting a fire to accompany the warmth already starting to pool in between your thighs.

“Please Sandor, god yes please.” the words barely left your lips before he crashed to his knees pulling your hips towards the edge of the bed till the cups of your ass kissed the end of the mattress.

He splayed his hands across your hip bones, as he looked at you with a questioning gaze.

After you consented with a nod, he quickly pulled the laces of your pants from their ties and slid the form fitting fabric down your thighs and off your legs before launching the article across the room with haste.

“Lift your arms, I will see all of you as I worship you for this blessed first time, darling.” he commanded, to which you happily obliged, arching your back and raising your hands above your head. He removed the tunic and tossed it in the same fashion as your pants, before sweeping his gaze across every inch of your skin.

His large and warm hands gliding to your supple soft breasts tracing the curve they produced before squeezing the mounds into his palms relishing in the whimper you gave him in response followed by a soft “Please!”.

“I know what you need my love, just have a little patience for me,” he urged, taking your hard nipples in between his thumb and pointer finger beginning to roll and pinch them earning him a louder whine as you pushed your chest further into his grasp.

He dipped his lips to your left breast, poking his tongue out to swirl against the perky bud, teasing you a little before, taking your nipple into his mouth and sucking while twirling and lapping at your peak with a little more pressure.

You mewled in pressure, the menstruations shooting straight to your core causing your hips to search Sandor’s in a desperate attempt to find some friction. “More!” you begged him as he released your boob with a pop before repeating the same treatment to the right, his hand coming to replace his mouth on your left tit.

Once he was satisfied with his treatment he pulled back to look at his work. Your chest heaving as your breasts glistened from the coating of his saliva. “You are exquisite, Y/N.” he murmured against your skin as he placed hot open mouthed kisses down a path on your stomach. “I think, I’ll have to make you mine, don’t you think? All mine, all for me and no one else. Yes, and if they tried to take you from me I will cut them down where they stand and lay you down and fuck you in their blood.” He placed one last kiss on your skin, his bottom lip brushing against the soft curls at the top of your mound. He lifted his gaze to your eyes where you were watching him, lust and need swirling around the pools of your irises. “Don’t you think that is fair love. You want that?”

“Yes, Sandor, please” you crooned for him. “Please!” you pleaded once more.

“Please what, my love? Tell me and I shall do it for you.” He knew what you were asking but wanted to bask in hearing your words grace his ears for the first time.

“Please touch me!” You cried. “But I have touched your love, is it not enough? Where do you need my touch, darling?” Sandor began tracing little patterns on the inside of your thighs testing your patience, skirting close to your folds before shying away.

“I need your fingers or your mouth! I need them inside please, I need you inside!” tears started to well up in your pretty eyes causing Sandor to give in and stop his teasing.

Torturously slow he spread your thighs, watching as strings of your arousal stretched between your wet folds. This sight alone caused Sandor to let out a deep guttural groan, his cock swelling against the seams of his trousers. But he paid no mind instead choosing to inch closer to your puffy pussy, close enough for you to feel his hot breath fanning against your aroused core.

“Look at you! Isn’t she such a pretty perfect little pussy? Is this all for me, my love?”

“Yes, for you! All for you!” You answered by lifting your hips in hopes of relief.

“Thank you for this wonderful gift, lovely, I’m going to have to give it a taste.” With that he pulled your folds apart even further and took on lip into his mouth sucking as much of your arousal as he could before doing the same to the opposite fold, before gliding the flat surface of his tongue from your entrance to your seam causing a delish scrap against your clit.

You threw your head back as you moaned loud for him, hands moving to grip his brown tresses. Spurred on by your noises, Sandor began prodding, sucking and licking at your swollen little bud trying to coax as much of your arousal as possible. Seemingly satisfied, he dragged one of his thick fingers through your fold before knocking it against the opening of your entrance.

All at once he pulled your pearl into his mouth beginning to suck lewdly at it while he slid his finger into your wet cunt.

“Sandorrr!” You moaned, shocked by the intensity of the sensations trying to rock your pelvis into his mouth, only to be stopped and pinned to the mattress by his free arm.

“I got you love, let me have you.” he coaxed releasing your bud to give it a kiss before returning to alternating between licking and sucking on your bud working hard to coax your first orgasm for him.

As you began climbing towards your peak he added another finger along with the first, giving you a delicious burn to the pleasure you were feeling that sent your reeling. A spew of moans and whimpers falling from your lips as Sandor set a rhythm between his mouth and fingers.

“I gotta stretch you open, darling, I’m a big man. You gotta cum for me first if you want my cock love.”

Chants of his name in broken high pitched whimpers were given to him in response as you hurled up towards your release thighs clenching deliciously and core winding that knot impossibly tight.

Sensing you were getting close, Sandor curled his fingers up into your cunt finding and massaging that gooey spot inside you with each thrust, causing you to reel and thrash against the bed.

Finally, the cord inside you snapped as you tipped over the edge, your orgasm washing over you, Sandors name being the only thought and words in your brain and leaving your lips and you rode out your high.

“God, you are squeezing me so tight, love. How is my cock going to fit in such a tight little cunt?” Sandor groaned, still slowly pumping his fingers aiding in milking you of orgasm for all it would give him before he slid them out of you with a loud squelching noise.

You laid there trying to catch your breath as you watched in shock as he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean before dropping them.

Chuckling as he saw your surprised expression he told you, “You taste divine, darling, I will never let such a sweet nectar go to waste, I promise you.”

Rising from his knees, he tore off his shirt and hastily untied his pants before shucking them down his legs.

This caused his cock to spring from its confinements and slap against his stomach allowing you to get a glimpse of him.

You gulped nervously. You knew he had to be larger than the average man just like the rest of him. But knowing it and actually seeing him in front of you were two completely separate things.

Sensing your apprehension, he stroked your cheek lovingly. “I won’t deny that there will be some discomfort initially, but you have all my patience and more and I will go slow. You are in control and we can stop anytime it becomes too much, alright my love?”

“Thank you,” you whispered, nerves fading slightly.

He stroked himself a few times before sliding his dick against your folds collecting all the arousal you were willing to give him, making sure to tap your clit lightly a few times before lining himself up with your entrance.

Sandor looked down at you and once you gave him a nod he slowly began sliding the tip inside your entrance.

Although it was just his tip, the stretch was immense causing you to hiss at the filling and clutch your biceps.

Sandor paused there for a moment, until you seemed okay and pushed in a little more.

Finally after repeating the pattern a few more times, you looked down as he rested inside you while you grew adjusted to see that he was only about half way.

“I’m going to push in all the way now, love. It will probably be easier for you, I need you to try and relax for me.You are clenching me so tight.” He groaned into your neck as he used all his strength not to just drill himself into you.

You did your best to relax as he slid the rest in before he finally kissed your cervix with his mushroom tip.

“Take your time and adjust to love, let me know when you are ready.”

After several moments, you whispered, “I’m okay, please move.”

Placing both of his hands beside your head Sandor slowly dragged his cock out of you just a bit before sliding back. Repeating the slow rhythm a few times more for himself than it was for you.

Soon you grew impatient and pressed your hips towards his before whining “More, Sandor, give me more! I need more!”

This seemed to light something inside of the man because he then began picking up speed, his hips snapping against yours. Everytime he was fully seated inside you the roll of his hips brushed the wisps of hair at the base of his cock against your clit, sending you reeling with pleasure.

Far too soon you felt the onset of your second orgasm, “Sandor, I’m close,” you warned before whining another “Please,” not entirely sure what you were begging him for. “So am I love, come for me, come with me. We will do it together.” he groaned from his place by your ear, his hips snapping as he started thrusting with a bit more force. He reached between your bodies and started thumbing your clit, causing your orgasm to crash over you with a moan, walls spasming around his length coaxing his orgasm, which he gave to you almost instantly. His hips sputtered as he tried to maintain his rhythm as he shot thick long ropes of cum into your gummy center filling you up. After a few more thrusts, he stilled inside you as he took a moment to collect himself and catch his breath.

A few minutes later, he raised himself up onto his elbows and looked into your eyes, “Did I hurt you, my love? Are you alright?”

“No, I am quite wonderful actually,” you huffed with a laugh.

“Good, I am pleased to hear it. You look so beautiful like this.” He supplied before leaning down to capture your lips once more.

Once you separated he slipped out of you and rolled over, pulling you to rest your head onto his chest while he twirled strands of your hair around your fingers.

You looked up at him, causing him to meet your gaze.

“I love you, Sandor,” you told him, pressing a kiss to his chest.

“I have loved you since we rode together from Winterfell.” He admitted to you before clasping one of your small hands into his own. “Marry me,Y/N. Become my wife, let me father your children, and build your home. Let me cut down the wood for your fires, and always be there to eat the food you cook. It is what I have always wanted, please let it be me.”

“It was always you, silly goose, from the moment that little prick asked me what I dreamed of, I will happily marry you, always.”

Filled with excitement, Sandor sat up and thrusted you back in once more for a bruisingly sweet kiss.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃ ❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

Many years later, you realized you fulfilled your dream.

Shortly after that night you and Sandor quickly got married.

It was a short ceremony, no one you knew was there. Just you and Sandor and some random townsperson, Sandor gave a few coins to marry you two.

Afterwards you set off to find the perfect place to build your house, and eventually you did.

Some many miles away from any other people, there was a quaint little meadow on top of a hill, with a little lake laying at the bottom.

And so Sandor got to work building a house to your exact specifications. Lots of windows, a porch so you could read and watch the kids play. A good size kitchen and a cozy fire next to the table. A modest bedroom for the two of you to share and a few extra rooms for the potential for future kids. It wasn’t the grandest of buildings nor was it the most humble, but it was yours and you love it.

Shortly after the completion of the house, you found a pair of dogs completely different from one another in breed. One was big and mean looking although it was a huge sweetie, which Sandor claimed and named Reaper.

Meanwhile your companion was a fluffy pointy eared little ball of energy in which you named Nylah.

After a few years you finally became pregnant and gave birth to a daughter you named Aurora, and following your oldest you gave Sandor two more daughters Odessa and Hadleigh.

Although Sandor did not picture himself a father he certainly did not anticipate being a father to three daughters, but alas they were the perfect gifts.

And you never cease to find a kick out of watching the large beast that was your husband gruffly oblige almost instantly to your little girl's wishes for little fairy houses or play kitchens. Always caving into spoiling his little girls and never refusing a chance to join their tea parties or play family.

Eventually you gave birth to a set of twins in which you decided would be your last. This time the twins are both boys, Cristen and Harper.

At first, Sandor was petrified at the prospect of two sons, fearing he would raise them wrong and them growing in contempt like himself and his brother.

But as both the boys grew, he quickly realized his father’s faults and recognized his boys’ differences and did his best to cultivate their strengths.

You were given the perfect little life by Sandor and in return you gave him more love than he even deserved, surrounded by their beautiful childrens with a life you built with your own hands. Sandor will be eternally indebted to you and vowed to love you deservingly for all the days you had with him.

#sandor clegane #sandor the hound clegane #sandor x reader #sandor smut #sandor clegane x reader #sandor clegane smut #sandor clegane fanart #sandor clegane fanfic

768 notes · View notes

tsiftor · 1 month ago

Text

The same way I saw someone once give Wu Yanzi a redemption by being wife beamed by Shen Yuan, I lowkey kind of wanna see it done to Qiu Jianluo...

Like, Shen Yuan does not know what type of person Qiu Jianluo is! He's just as clueless as Qiu Haitang. In this life, he was reborn as the son of a rich household. Mayhaps, it's an alternate universe where he has the same family, but in a different time period (in PIDW). Shen Yuan could still have his frail health, or he could be stronger since it's a world where almost anything is possible... all because of Luo Binghe and the wife plots. Luo Binghe is not important in this plot, though.

Anyway, Shen Yuan appears at the Qiu household because he was forced to for whatever reason. He meets Shen Jiu, and is immediately charmed because of how adorable and considerate he is. (Really, Shen Jiu felt like he is walking on thin ice because Shen Yuan is friends with Qiu Jianluo, so he didn't want to get on Shen Yuan's bad side as the consequences could be way worse if Qiu Jianluo heard.) But Shen Jiu clocks that Shen Yuan is not as fake as Qiu Jianluo after meeting him several times. Also, Shen Jiu keeps getting the ick that Qiu Jianluo fake ass persona acts way worse around Shen Yuan.

Qiu Jianluo wants to whip Shen Jiu for being so damn imprudent, but he is always hiding behind Shen Yuan. Qiu Jianluo does not want Shen Yuan of all peeps to find out about his true persona. (Shen Yuan kind of already knew mostly due to rumors, but he thought it was outrageous. Regardless, there may be a good reason for it!) Kind of want Qiu Jianluo to be slightly younger than Shen Yuan because I want Shen Yuan to fawn over a "beast". Qiu Jianluo is a beast in Shen Jiu's eyes. At the same time, while Shen Jiu refuses to admit that he's kind of the same type as Qiu Jianluo, he likes Shen Yuan giving him the same type of affection. (Y'know what they say about like father, like son or like mother, like daughter? Except this is like abuser, like abused type...? Whatever if that doesn't make sense.)

Anyway, Shen Yuan giving Qiu Jianluo head pats, v platonic kisses on the cheek or forehead, hugs, and what not. Qiu Haitang and Shen Jiu also gets the same type of affection. Shen Jiu can tell Qiu Jianluo is fucking jealous and infuriated out of his mind. Although, he is way more chill about it when Shen Yuan does it to Qiu Haitang, he fucking hates Shen Jiu to the point where Qiu Jianluo wants to kick Shen Jiu out rather than keep him to marry Qiu Haitang or have his fun with Shen Jiu. He just wants the slave GONE. However, he can't do that when Shen Yuan adores that damn fucking slave.

Forgot to mention that Qiu Jianluo's obsession with Qiu Haitang decreased as it is going towards Shen Yuan now instead.

Qiu Jianluo had whipped Shen Jiu for this before, but he stopped after seeing how much Shen Yuan coddled the slave when the slave had said his injuries was due to his clumsiness. They both know that Shen Jiu would've gotten punished way worst, maybe to death had he said the truth. However, this is Shen Yuan. That would've never happened.

Qiu Jianluo doesn't even want to find out what Shen Yuan would've done had he actually found out. (So in some case, Shen Jiu has the upper hand here.) Although, Qiu Jianluo would probably try to abuse him more discreetly in locations that Shen Yuan cannot see unless Shen Jiu gets stripped.

Thanks to that Shen Jiu was able to eat well, grow slightly fatter, be hygienic, grow taller, heal from his injuries, be educated—feel human, and not feel like the Xiao Jiu he is.

Shen Jiu still despises men, but he likes how safe he feels with Shen Yuan. He still thinks he is disgusting(?) For feeling safe with women, and Shen Yuan. Not that he'll ever admit it, but he'll use anything that will help him. Qiu Jianluo continues to belittle him, that he is nothing to Shen Yuan no matter how kind he is being treated. Shen Jiu can't tell if that jab was at him or at Qiu Jianluo himself.

Four years later(?), Yue Qingyuan comes to save Shen Jiu as he promised. That's when Shen Yuan learned that Shen Jiu was a slave, and not a servant. Shen Yuan tells Qiu Jianluo to free him, and Qiu Jianluo accepts without hesitation. This makes it easier to get rid of that slave without defiling his own hands. Sure, Qiu Haitang did complain about it, but this was the best scenario for him.

Qiu Jianluo probably sent out assassins to get Shen Jiu's head, but they all mostly failed because Shen Jiu is the scum villain that should die by Luo Binghe's hands, so he has his own type of "protagonist's halo", but in this case, "villain's halo"? The most that happened to Shen Jiu is injuries that may or may not have almost killed him.

While Shen Jiu is still feral, he isn't as feral as the original scum villain thanks to Shen Yuan's presence. Mayhaps, Shen Jiu plans to whisk Shen Yuan away once he is Peak Lord.

#svsss #shen yuan #qiu jianluo #jianyuan? i don't know...#shen jiu #jiuyuan #scumcum #just shen yuan wife beaming everyone #yue qingyuan #jianyuan #ark

233 notes · View notes

mysticalcrowntyrant · 25 days ago

Text

Soulmate x Reader

AN: I’ve been working on this story on and off since January. Out of all the things I’ve posted, I would consider this my “passion project”. I hope you enjoy!

You were ten years old in the summer of 1964, the year The Beatles hit the radio like a tidal wave and your older brother got a buzz cut before leaving for basic training. The world felt like it was tilting in a dozen different directions at once. War in faraway places, men in suits yelling on the black-and-white television, your father working late at the plant, your mother smoking silently in the kitchen.

And you, well, you were mostly alone.

You played in the overgrown lot two houses down, the one with the rusted-out car half-swallowed by blackberry brambles and a tree that wept sap like tears. The neighborhood kids said the place was haunted, but you weren’t afraid of ghosts. You were afraid of silence. You were afraid of the yawning space your brother had left behind when he went off to learn how to shoot a gun. You were afraid of your mother’s eyes, empty and glassy as ashtrays.

That was the summer you found the bird.

It was a grackle, maybe, or some other kind of blackbird—its feathers a dull, oil-slick sheen in the sunlight, one wing crooked at a strange angle. You spotted it in the tall grass near the back fence, past the busted washing machine someone had dumped there years ago. You might’ve stepped on it if it hadn’t made a sound—a sharp, desperate little peep that stopped you cold.

You crouched down, knees scratching against the dry clover, and stared. The bird’s eyes rolled wildly, beak parted. Flies hovered near its wing, but you waved them off.

It looked small, smaller than it should’ve been. Broken things always seemed smaller.

You didn’t touch it at first. Just sat beside it, cross legged, your hands on your shins, like the grown-ups did in church when the preacher got to talking about death. You watched it tremble. It watched you back.

For a long time, neither of you moved.

Then you went home.

You told your mother there was a hurt bird. She didn’t look up from her cigarette. She flicked ash into the sink, turned on the tap, then turned it off again. You thought she might say something. She didn’t.

So you raided the bathroom for the shoebox where your father kept old receipts. You lined it with one of your brother’s old undershirts, the soft kind that smelled faintly of soap and sun. You carried it back to the lot.

When you lifted the bird, it didn’t fight you. Its body was warm, but too still. You laid it gently in the box, and it blinked once, slow.

You named it Gus.

You brought Gus little bits of bread and water in a bottlecap. You sat with him for hours, humming songs you half-knew from the radio. You read aloud from your books. You told him about your brother’s room, about the posters and the record player and how your mother didn’t go in there anymore. By the second day, Gus tried to stand.

His good wing flapped once, then again, and he managed to shuffle in a slow, lopsided circle inside the shoebox. You clapped softly, grinning like you’d just seen a magic trick. He looked stronger, or maybe just more stubborn, his beady eyes sharp. It made something ache in your chest.

You started thinking maybe he’d get better.

But the air stayed hot and heavy, and your mother stayed quiet. Your father came home later and later, and when he did, he smelled like metal and sweat and something sour. You didn’t talk to him about Gus. You didn’t talk to him about much. He'd ruffle your hair with a calloused hand sometimes, but it felt like the motion of someone remembering a role they were supposed to play.

Every morning, you’d sneak out with the shoebox tucked under your arm. Gus came with you to the lot, to the rusted-out car and the weeping tree. You’d set the box down in the same patch of grass, half in the shade. Sometimes you’d draw in the dirt with a stick. Sometimes you just stared into the box and waited for Gus to make another circle.

He never did.

On the eighth day, Gus didn’t blink. You touched his wing, gently, like always. Nothing.

You sat there for a long time, longer than usual. The light changed around you. Cicadas screamed in the trees. You didn’t cry. You didn’t know how. The ache in your chest grew teeth. It chewed through your ribs like something alive.

You buried him by the busted washing machine, using a spoon from the kitchen and your bare hands when that got too slow. You marked the grave with a rock, one you’d found near the creek a year ago, the one shaped like a heart if you looked at it just right.

That night, you went into your brother’s room for the first time since he left. It still smelled like Brylcreem and vinyl, like teenage boy and summer heat. You lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling, the room too big, the silence too wide. A record was still sitting on the turntable, warped slightly at the edge.

You didn’t sleep.

A few days later, a postcard came from Fort Jackson. It was short. The handwriting was sloppy.

“Tell Mom I’m fine. Hot as hell down here. Tell the kid I said hey.”

You stared at it a long time. You weren’t sure if “the kid” was supposed to mean you.

Outside, the sun was rising again, bleeding pink across the sky. You thought about Gus. You thought about how he watched you, that first day in the grass, like you were the last thing in the world he could still believe in.

You sat at the kitchen table with the postcard, the one your mother hadn’t looked at yet. She stood at the sink with a fresh cigarette, her back to you.

“His name was Gus,” you said.

She didn’t turn around. But after a moment, she tapped her ash into the sink, and said softly, “I had a bird once, too.”

 You fought back tears.

—-

You’re sixteen now. Taller. Your face longer, sharper at the jaw, the baby softness gone. You keep your hair the way your brother used to when he was your age, before the buzz cut, before basic, before the long stretch of time that peeled the shine off life.

You're sitting on the front porch of your parent’s house. Your knees are drawn up, arms cradling a sleeping bundle against your chest. The baby, your brother’s, is warm and impossibly still, one tiny hand curled against your shirt. Her breath is light. She smells like talcum and formula and something sweet you can't quite name.

Your brother got married last year. Her name is Sharon. You’re not used to saying it yet. She’s nice enough, always smiling too hard and calling you hon. The kind of girl who wears lipstick to the grocery store and hums Patsy Cline while she folds laundry. You don’t dislike her, but there’s something about her that feels far away. Like she belongs to a world you never got the invitation to.

The baby stirs, lets out a soft grunt, then goes quiet again.

Your mother watches from the screen door, cigarette between two fingers, her other hand on her hip. She hasn’t said much since they arrived for the weekend. Just looked at the baby like she couldn’t decide whether to hold her or bolt out into the street. She hasn’t touched her once.

“Looks like you’ve got the magic touch,” your brother had said earlier, clapping you on the back in that too-loud way men do when they don’t know what else to say.

You’d nodded.

Your father’s car pulls into the drive, headlights off even though the suns now bleeding down behind the trees. He gets out slowly, like he always does. He nods at you, says nothing. You nod back. You’re used to this language.

The baby yawns.

You think, suddenly, of how small everything starts. Feathers and fingers and fragile necks. How easy it is to break a thing that trusts you. How hard it is to earn that trust in the first place.

Inside, Sharon’s laughing at something your brother said. The sound is high and tinny, like it doesn’t belong in this house. Like someone wound up a music box and set it spinning.

Your mother finally opens the screen door and steps outside. She doesn’t look at you directly, but she sits on the steps a little ways down, lights another cigarette.

“She looks like him,” she murmurs, not quite to you. “When he was little.”

You glance down at the baby. She does. Same nose. Same dark lashes. You want to ask her if she means that in a good way or a bad one. You don’t.

“She won’t remember any of this,” you say instead. “Not this porch, not the smoke. Not the way the sky looks.”

“No,” your mother says. Her voice is thin. “But you will.”

You look back out at the darkening street. Somewhere, a cicada whines.

You hold the baby a little closer, breathe in her warmth, and whisper something she’ll never remember, something soft and secret.

“I miss Gus.”

—-

You are twenty now. The city is loud in ways the country never was. Car horns instead of cicadas. Neon instead of stars. Sirens, chatter, the thump of bass from apartment windows that never quite close all the way.

You live on the third floor of a building that smells like old carpet and hot metal, where the stairwell light buzzes and flickers. Your place is small—a kitchenette, a window, a mattress on the floor—but it’s yours. You picked the color of the curtains. You bought the secondhand lamp.

It’s a Tuesday when you find him.

You’re walking back from your job at the corner bookstore, the one with the creaky floors and the owner who only ever wears turtlenecks and talks like every sentence might be his last. It’s cold, early March, the air raw with leftover winter. You take the long way home, like you always do when your head feels too full.

You’re passing the alley behind the laundromat when you hear it—a whine, low and ragged. You pause, frown, then follow the sound. It leads you to a shape barely visible beneath a dumpster, dark and shivering.

At first, you think it’s a pile of rags. Then it lifts its head.

The dog is thin as wire, ribs like ladder rungs, fur patchy and soot-dark. His eyes are yellow, too bright for the rest of him. One ear’s torn, and there’s a limp in his back leg when he tries to stand. He doesn’t growl. Doesn’t bark. Just watches you.

You crouch.

“Hey.”

He doesn’t move.

You take a step closer. He flinches but doesn’t run.

You go to the corner store and buy a can of tuna and a cheap plastic bowl. You bring it back. The dog watches you the whole time, still as stone. When you pop the lid and step back, he crawls forward, slowly, like it hurts.

You stay until he’s done. You sit on the concrete, your knees up, hands folded.

He licks the bowl clean, then turns and looks at you again.

You say it out loud before you realize.

“Gus.”

It fits. Not because he’s like the bird, but because he is. The way his bones show, the way his eyes still shine. The way he didn’t run.

You come back the next day. And the next.

By Friday, he lets you touch him.

By Sunday, he follows you home.

Your landlord doesn’t allow pets. You keep Gus hidden, smuggle him in through the back stairwell wrapped in an old hoodie. He curls up on the floor beside your mattress, nose tucked under his tail. When he sleeps, he twitches, like he’s running in his dreams.

You bathe him in the tub with warm water and shampoo. He doesn’t like it, but he doesn’t fight. You dry him with your last clean towel. The one your brother gave you when you moved out.

He’s cleaner now, but still scarred. Still limps. Still flinches at sudden noises. You know better than to reach too fast. You speak softly. You leave space.

Some nights, you wake up and find him staring at you. Not in a bad way. Just watching, like he’s trying to make sure you’re still there.

You reach down, run your fingers gently behind his ear.

“I won’t leave,” you whisper.

Gus blinks, slow.

—-

You’re twenty-nine now. The city hasn’t gotten any quieter, but it’s not so loud anymore either. Or maybe you’ve just learned how to live inside the noise. You still live in the same apartment—third floor, buzz of the stairwell light, windows that rattle when the trains go by. The curtains are newer. The mattress has a bedframe now. You bought a plant that hasn’t died yet.

Gus is older, too. Was older.

He died on a Wednesday.

He’d been slowing down for months—his steps shaky, his naps longer. His muzzle had gone gray, softening the sharp angles of his face. His limp had come back, worse this time, and no amount of careful walks or warm baths could soothe it. You knew it was coming, even if you didn’t let yourself say the words. You’d seen it before—in feathers, in breath that went still.

You wrapped him in the same hoodie you first carried him home in.

The vet was kind. Quiet. She let you sit on the floor with him, let you stay until he was gone. You held his head in your lap. You whispered the same thing you always had, every time he twitched in his sleep, every time the thunder made him shiver.

“I won’t leave.”

After, the apartment felt cavernous. His absence rang louder than the trains ever could. The empty space beside your bed. The silence when you opened the door and no claws clicked against the floor. You left the radio off for a while. You stopped going the long way home.

Weeks passed like molasses. People at work gave you those sad, knowing looks. You hated it.

You didn’t talk about Gus. Not that Gus. Not the feathers or the grave by the busted washing machine. Not the one who laid his head on your chest that last night and sighed, like he knew it was time.

Then you met Jordan.

You weren’t looking for anyone. You were still trying to figure out how to cook for one person again. But he was there—at the bookstore, of all places. Not your usual shift, just a day you’d swapped with someone. He came in looking for a poetry collection. Asked for help finding it, even though it wasn’t hard to find. Later, you’d wonder if he already knew exactly where it was.

He had round glasses and a knit sweater with a thread pulled loose on the sleeve. His curls looked soft. His smile lit up the whole room.

He asked if you read poetry.

You lied and said yes.

He laughed and admitted he only liked the sad kind. The kind that "felt like a bruise you didn’t mind pressing."

You ended up walking to the café across the street after your shift. He told you about the apartment he was painting, the short story he was trying to finish, the old cat he used to have named Lemon. You told him about the radio you used to leave on for someone. You didn’t say who.

Not then.

But over the next few weeks, you did.

It wasn’t linear, the telling. Pieces came out sideways. Over takeout boxes on your floor. In the quiet space between movie credits and the apartment’s usual creaks. You told him about Gus. About both of them.

He listened like every word mattered. Like he understood something unspoken.

One night, he ran his fingers along your forearm and said, “You know, you look like someone who’s been carrying ghosts for a long time.”

You blinked hard. “Yeah,” you said. “I have.”

Then he kissed you, soft and slow.

You don’t believe in signs. But Jordan’s eyes are the same color as the bird’s feathers were in the sunlight—dark, with that strange oil-slick shine. When he laughs, it sounds like a song you used to hum without realizing it. He touches you like you’re something worth being gentle with.

Sometimes, when he’s fallen asleep on your couch, a book on his chest and his glasses half-off his nose, you look at him and think: You stayed.

Not like the bird. Not like the dog.

You didn’t name him Gus. But you could’ve.

Because there’s something about the way he saw you—tired and hollowed out and still reaching anyway—that reminded you of that first afternoon in the lot, knees in the dirt, watching something broken trust you anyway.

This time, you think, you might finally be ready to trust back.

Masterlist

#soulmate x reader #oc x reader #gn reader #x reader #oc x you #x you

166 notes · View notes

thewitchblue · 7 months ago

Note

Hello! Do you take requests if u doooo 🤭🤭

Ok! So just imagine Damien dating a figure skater

gn or fem 🙏🏽

Andd the Batfam doesn’t know about it until. One day at dinner, dick asks if anybody is dating.

Stay silent for a moment but than Tim starts looking at Damien, and well, it’s a family full of detective so everybody peeps sad.

So now they’re just sitting there questioning him because wym he has a gf?? Who is she??

Does she know what he does at night??

Do they stay on the phone when going to sleep orrrr??

Do she got an older sister? ( this question was from Dick.)

Like Tim knows all about Damines relationship ok like bro has access to basically every camera. He KNOWS a lot of things 😭

OH and don’t let them find out she ice skates.

Dick will instantly find an opportunity to bond with her cuz basically she’s like his little sister already.

Cass is a lil happy cuz like figure skating and ballet are kind of similar. So I feel like she would help you stretch or ask you for help. You show her that leap ballerina movie( it’s so good 😭)

Jason would def tease Damien about it all the time, like he has nothing against figure skaters(when the batfam went to an ice ring once he fell on his ahh😭) but like come on the bad ass kid that is sassy af got a girlfriend??? Thought he was gay honestly.

Tim as I mentioned before already knew about your relationship, he just didn’t know you figure skated. Is an interesting thing to him. Like it’s not but at the same time it is?? Yk

Bruce? He’s just glad his son can love someone that’s not his family. Def try’s and go’s to your competitions, makes the whole family go if Damien lets them. Honestly adore you, like? You a nice girl that wears pink in almost every. if not all outfits ?? Is dating his son Damien…Damien Wayne?? The one that frown 24 seven….ye ok

Like how would they be if they met her?

How would the titans react 😦

Jon:so you’re telling me you? Have a girlfriend?…r you paying her…

You assumed Damian had told them about you. Neither of you is outright affectionate (the industry wants you to be a hot single skater, and Damian was Damian), but you had assumed Damian would have at least told his family the bare minimum about you such as you figure skating professionally or even your existence. Turns out, he did not, and you found out in the most awkward dinner of your life.

"So, you aren't being paid off to cover his tracks?"

Jason asked. You had been invited to a dinner party after the others dogpiled on Damian to find out more about his secret relationship. Damian was still mentally cursing Tim. The rat snitched on him, and now he's stuck in this terrible situation.

Jason got kicked hard beneath the table by Damian, who was already annoyed he was forced to have a stupid dinner with his family to prove his relationship.

"I see on every recent social media post that says you are single."

Tim said. He spent the past 56 hours researching you until the words began to blur and the coffee ran out.

"I'm a private person. I guess you can say I don't kiss and tell."

You seemed amused, but Damian was screaming internally and glaring harshly at everyone around him.

Nobody else knew what to say. They already knew everything about you through Tim (well, besides the figure skating because Tim found that information irrelevant). This dinner was mostly to confirm you are real and that you do know Damian. This isn't some hallucination that the Batfamily has to figure out how to fix.

Colour them surprised when you actually showed up and lightly kissed Damian on the cheek. Jason had to give Dick twenty bucks with a scowl. He really thought there was zero chance Damian, Edgelord Supreme, would ever get a girlfriend.

You had no idea what to say because Damian prepared you already. There was nothing to say. You had to pick at your food and awkwardly talk about how long you've dated, which they already knew, and what your first date was like, which they also already knew. What can they say? They are the greatest detectives for a reason.

After the horrible dinner, you decided to take them all ice skating. Partially to calm your nerves and partially to see what they all have.

Jason, obviously, sucks at it, and Damian snickered every time he fell. You helped him as best you can, keeping him to the walls of the rink for support.

Dick was a little clumsy at first, but once he got it, he was a total show-off. He attempted figure skating moves but struggled with keeping control. You circled him and gave him tips, which he was surprised worked. You cheered for him and bonded over the overlap between gymnastics and figure skating. You were excited to find out he's a gymnast because you also do gymnastics on the side. You are a professional figure skater, so you are surprised there weren't more people asking for tricks from you.

Cass held your hand the entire time, which you were fine with. You saw how excited she was by the ice skating, so you offered to watch a figure skating movie when they got back to the manor, which she happily agreed to do. She had a feeling she's going to love you. You showed her a few beginner-friendly tricks, and helped her with her form. You'd love to spend more time with her.

"You are going to have to show me your moves after the movie."

Cass agreed happily. She was excited to see you again. She's already welcoming you into the family, and so was Dick as he slid in between both of you.

You giggled, more than happy with your little trio going on. Damian did warn you Dick is the family golden retriever, but you didn't consider it seriously until you met him.

"You're invited to our movie night too, Dick."

Dick winked and asked,

"Do you have a sister? We can double date."

You laughed and shook your head in amusement. You replied,

"Not in this lifetime, Dickie."

Bruce watched in the seats with Damian.

"She is not what I expected to be your type after Raven. When is her next competition?"

Damian seemed startled that he knew about the figure skating. Nobody else did except Tim. He told him,

"She'll be in Gotham. The competition is in a week."

Bruce nodded. He liked you. He liked the adoration that Damian couldn't keep off his face when he looked at you and the way you seemed to make him smile without even trying. He'll have to remember to bring Damian when he goes to the competition. He wants to see you in action.

He smiles softly as you laugh with Cass and Dick, Jason eventually joining the group after shuffling for a couple of minutes. You are perfect for the family.

The Titans didn't quite know what to do with this information.

Beast Boy was the loudest about his disbelief. The boy has zero filter, and he asked probably a million questions after Damian was caught sneaking you out one night, which Damian still hates because it woke up everybody and suddenly he had to show the whole team his girlfriend. He wanted to wait, but evidently, fate was not on his side.

Raven already knew. She was just thankful Damian can finally stop sneaking you in and out of their tower nightly. She was the one who put Beast Boy on a leash when it came to the thousands of questions he asked.

Starfire had a strong feeling Damian was hiding something. Dick taught her a thing or two about reading people, and Damian's baseline changed substantially. He was secretive about his phone, often vanished for seemingly no reason, and sometimes came home with lipstick on his lips that he had to buy make-up removal wipes for and keep the wipes on him at all times.

Blue Beetle was surprised anybody would date Damian. You were nice and asked questions about the scarab, and you both connected when you asked to see the scarab in action. It felt good to show his powers off to someone who could truly appreciate them. He liked you.

Cyborg also liked you. He researched ice skating terms to speak to you better. You seemed equally interested in him. You asked him questions about his backstory, and it kind of dissolved into Cyborg crying and mourning his life before becoming a cyborg. You held him as he cried and listened to him. He loved you like the others.

#batfam x reader #damian wayne x reader #fem!reader

276 notes · View notes

mysterious-meat-cake · 5 months ago

Text

First post on here and it's a rant!! If you want more cool takes you should totally follow me as I'll be posting here more often and have totally cool art to share‼️‼️

I'm not completely sure how to tag this? I'm talking about the ships in a positive light so I think it's okay, and besides, I want lots of peeps to see it, I'm aware I probably won't change many people's minds at all, but it's okay lol, I just want Anti's to see they genuinely have a nothing burger and need to leave people alone.

This is a mostly TikTok only problem regarding Beast x Ancient's (thank god) but I've seen my fair share elsewhere like on here. So lemme counter every argument I've seen so far cause you got a lot of time on your hands to be telling people to off themselves over Cookie ships 😭 put that hate into people who actually deserve it.

BILLFORD COMPARISON

Regarding ShadowVanilla specifically, people have compared the ship a lot from both sides, but what really got me is what I've seen here:

"Shadow Milk Cookie is way worse than Bill! He drove Pure Vanilla to insanity! He tortured him!"- This is in regards to how people bring up the fact Anti's are fine with one thing but not the other when it's basically the same thing they're against. Psychological, physical, mental, and emotional torture. I'll be honest I haven't watched Gravity Falls whatsoever, but my friend has, and from what she says, yeah Bill is the definition of a cruel and unusual punishment. He's done some crazy things, absolutely heinous, might even be a little worse than Shadow Milk or on the same level, either way though-

You can't like one thing and then not the other, it's different flavors of the same thing, it's hypocritical. Either you hate them both or you hate neither.

"Those are 2 different fandoms!"- Doesn't matter, it's the same thing, just different media, it's not different whatsoever aside from the universe, there's much torture involved on both ends.

ABUSER X VICTIM

This one I've seen A LOT and I'm just ??

"If you ship Beast x Ancient's you support Abuser x victim btw"- That's a STRETCH. You are reaching FAR. Nobody is romanticizing the abuse, nobody is normalizing it, it's stuff that happened in canon and we acknowledge it but nobody is doing any of that other stuff. I'm not condoning anyone in real life to do that shit lol. It's called exploring, they have an interesting dynamic, romantic or platonic, two sides of the same coin. You can say the same thing about horror movies, they put a lot of disturbing stuff in there. Do the movie producers CONDONE any of that stuff? Obviously not. Goes for Devsisters too, they don't condone body mutilation yet they still made Burning Spice rip off Cheese's wings.

But even so, for the people who DO like it for the angst, I won't say fiction doesn't affect reality because it does in many cases, but this isn't one of them. Not every relationship is going to be peachy and perfect, just like in real life. I can give an example on this one too actually.

GoldenLily, they aren't condoning what Lily (technically) did to Golden Cheese's kingdom, but they like it for all the potential, complicated feelings and emotions that come along with it.

Also, that's basically the same thing with Beasts x Ancients, just turn it around to enemies to lovers.

"This isn't Villain x hero, this is abuser x victim"- Are you saying MOST of media is abuser x victim then? This is in fact a typical hero x Villain trope, it's nothing new. Respectfully, you guys freak out when a Villain does villain stuff, I'd be surprised if there was a villain who DIDN'T cause any trauma for the opposing party. But according to this logic, media is just dead, no more fanfiction, no more what ifs, no more content since it's all apparently problematic and not canon. Even if somebody switches stuff up in an AU, and makes things completely fluffy, that's apparently still not enough.

"oh you had to make an AU to ship them because you know it's toxic"- No, it's just playing around with scenarios. Learn to separate fanon from canon. This specifically goes for the redeemed AU's I see of the Beasts, people still complain, they act as if people can't change. One of the biggest examples I have of that is FlutterCord, Discord did plenty of messed up things, but in the end, he still managed to change. You'll still get burned at the stake for it though.

"You must be an abuser yourself to condone this!!"- Extremely disrespectful and a WILDDD take. Need I say more??

"I ship Beast x Beast rather than Beast x Ancient's"- According to your logic, the Beasts are abusers right? And if we followed the same story, they are not mentally well whatsoever. You'd rather ship 2 dangerously mentally unstable characters together who'd just make each other worse? Destroy each other? Fuck each other up beyond belief? It doesn't make sense does it, nor is it fair for y'all to praise these ships but hate on the others. You like watching the cookies crumble huh 😭

CANON

"The ship isn't canon!"- We know that, everyone should know that. With what I said earlier, please learn to separate fanon from canon. That's what a fandom is, we do non-canon stuff, it's very fun, you should try it.

"It's a Proship/Dark ship!"- Going the canon route, Beasts are Eons old, Ancients are thousands of years old. Big gap yes, but nonetheless all of them are old as fuck. Older than bloodlines. Treating the Ancients as if they aren't grown adults. You're intentionally trying to make it weird. Stop calling ships you don't like proships please.

Also a little off topic but please don't listen to everyone you interact with on TikTok?? I remember one time I was scrolling through a comment section and saw somebody say "Doesn't Mystic Flour Cookie hate Burning Spice Cookie?" On a MysticSpice vid, looked in the replies, somebody asked for proof/where it was implied, and they didn't answer 💀 just blatantly spreading misinformation. Sources around you are way more reliable than people who don't back up their claims.

CONCLUSION

Even despite all this, you still have the right to feel how you wanna feel. Just please stop harassing people for simple stuff like this, in all honesty, I feel like it's more about seeing one of your favorite characters shipped with somebody who hurt them in canon that makes peeps upset. Which I can totally understand because I used to be exactly like that, I LIVEEEE for Dark Cacao Cookie, when Mystic Flour's update came out, I wanted her dead. Quite literally blocked someone because I couldn't stand seeing their MysticCao art. Hated what she did to my baby boy fr.

But then It started growing on me, over time, I just realized it was never that serious.

Even so, notice how I still didn't go out of my way to harass said person about it because I specifically didn't like it? It really is that easy. Block and go about your day.

I also suspect this because of stuff like this 💀

Love that person who replied, but it's not that hard y'all. We all can in fact, get along.

ANYWAYSSSS thanks to those who took the time read, I love you my pookies hope you have a good day or night💕💕

#cookie run kingdom #shadowvanilla #burningcheese #mysticcacao #silentlily #pureshadow #hollysugar #beast x ancient #type shit

198 notes · View notes

spencereidluver · 2 years ago

Text

E is for Even Guys Like Me?

september 12, 2008

summary: You tell Spencer about the conversation you'd overheard with his mother. He gets embarrassed, and even a little angry.

word count: 1.9k

warnings: the slightest teensiest bit of angst. mostly just a lot of spencer crushing for reader

It had been a little over two weeks since you overheard Spencer’s phone call with his mother. You’d been making it your mission to drop little hints at him about your feelings being the same, but they all seemed to just go over his head. You decided it’d be best to find a moment and tell him directly before it’s too late.

You were on a case right now, you and Spencer once again staying back in the PD to work on the intellectual side of things. Though a lot of time was spent together, this was not a time for deep conversations. You’d wait on the case before you said anything. You didn’t want to distract the genius. Because, despite what he had told Hotch in your meeting last month, Spencer did most of the work. You were just there on the off chance that he didn’t know something, which was pretty much never.

Three days went by, you had to try your best to not be too flirtatious with Spencer. He got flustered fast. And you weren’t sure how experienced he was, you didn’t want to move too quickly. Though your guys’ carpooling and coffee sharing was normal, it felt different for you now. More meaningful. You caught yourself blushing sometimes when the tall boy would bring in two cups of coffee, one with his name and one with yours. He’d even begun leaving sticky notes on them sometimes, ever since you did the morning of the phone call. You’ve saved them all in your desk, his handwritten script being some of the most effortlessly beautiful things you’ve ever had the pleasure of laying your eyes on.

_____

You’re seated on the jet on the way home from the case. Directly to your left, is Spencer, who is deeply entranced in a book, “A Study in Scarlet,” by Arthur Conan Doyle, the book that he received in last year’s white elephant gift exchange, which took place before you began working at the BAU. Across from you is Emily and Derek, and Hotch and Rossi are at the booth behind her. JJ stayed home for this case as she is pregnant. She is in charge of files until she gives birth and returns from maternity leave.

The silence in the jet is broken by a head turn from Hotch who clears his throat. “Are you three up for dinner tonight?” He says.

“My treat,” Rossi adds.

“Well, if Papa Dave is paying, then of course I’ll be there,” Emily says.

“Sure, I’ll go,” you said, glancing over at Spencer who hadn’t even looked up from his book. “I’m sure Spence will come too.” Derek kicked you under the table and gave you a wink. His teasings were the main reason you haven't made any moves on Spencer prior to hearing him speak to his mother about you.

Almost on beat, Spencer looks up, “Yeah, I’ll be there. I’ll just need a ride if that’s alright,” he said. His eyes met yours.

“I’ll give you a ride, Spence.” Another kick from Derek, this time, you kick him back. Emily catches on to the teasing game of footsies going on under the table and gives you and Derek a cheeky grin. You roll your eyes at the two of them and pull your feet into your lap. Sitting criss-cross now, you pull out your book of crossword puzzles and begin scribbling answers.

_____

You weren’t quite sure how much time had passed. Emily and Derek had fallen asleep, and not a peep had been heard from Rossi or Hotch either. Spencer was still awake and was coming up on the final few pages of his book. He was curled into a small ball against the wall in the corner of the seat, his knees to his chest and feet pointed toward you. His mismatched socks peeked out from beneath his khakis, one pink and one yellow. The shoestring of his left converse was coming untied. Untied! That was the answer to the last line of your puzzle! You subconsciously thank Spencer for his accidental aid to your old woman games, and it’s almost as if he heard it. He looks at his watch, then up at you.

“Hmm, we should be back in Quantico in 17 minutes. Taking to account the wind speed, maybe even 16,” he says. He crinkles his nose and returns to the last pages of his book. You scribble in the final word of your crossword puzzle and begin to pack up. You slide your puzzle book into your small carry on backpack, and begin to clear off the rest of the table. You pick up yours and Emily’s empty coffee mugs and reach around Spencer’s elbows which were rested against the table to grab his. You stack the three mugs together and grab Derek’s plate. Derek was the only person you knew who would eat four pork chops at 3pm, then agree to go to dinner only two hours later.

Spencer sees you take his mug and looks up at you. He gives you a smile and whispers a soft “thank you.”

_____

Spencer was seated on the passenger side of your car. His eyes were following the flashing lights as you drove down the city streets in the darkness. It was 7:30pm. A little late for dinner, but it’s when the jet got back. Plus, you were hungry.

The light was hitting Spencer’s face in a way that made him look ethereal. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“Hey, Spence,” you say, alluding a hum in response. Can I tell you something?”

“Of course,” he looked at you. Somehow, from the repositioning of his head, the lighting somehow hit his face even better. The yellow luminescence shining through the windows made the honey brown of his eyes almost 3-dimensional. It felt as if he was looking inside of you. He was truly breathtaking.

“Okay,” you sigh, “please don’t hate me, but I kind of overheard you and your mom’s conversation…”

“What?”

“Well, just your side. I know I shouldn’t have, but I just couldn’t… I just… I need to-”

Spencer interrupts you. It was dark, but you could tell his cheeks were red. “So you were eavesdropping?”

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I just…”

“How much did you hear?”

“It was only the end. If you would’ve been talking about something personal I would’ve left but-”

“How is me opening up about my feelings for someone not personal?” He seemed a little angry.

“No, it is, and I know I shouldn’t have, but…”

“Yeah, you really shouldn’t have, y/n.”

“Spencer, I…” You looked at the man in the seat beside you. You didn’t want this conversation to upset him. You really wished you hadn’t spoken. You could see the betrayal in his eyes. You felt truly awful.

“You what?” He broke the silence, eyes meeting yours. He stared at you intently.

You took a moment, trying to find the words to say. You didn’t want to break his trust even more. “Spencer, I like you too.”

His eyes were blown huge. “Huh?” “I like you too. I’ve liked you since I first started working here. I didn’t want to try anything because I didn’t know if you felt the same, or if you even date because I know some people with this job don’t. And-”

You were rambling. You were trying your best to defend yourself. Spencer’s eyes were searching your face. He was profiling you. You were telling the truth.

“I, wow. I didn’t know you felt that way, y/n…”

You reached for his hand. It was cold and shaky. You ran your thumb over the back of it, letting it raise and drop with the veins it crossed. He began shaking even more, so you let go. He snaps his hand to his thigh, and with his other hand, traces the tracks you’d left. He smiles to himself and lets out a large sigh.

_____

“You guys have a good night,” Rossi says as he climbs into his luxury sedan. The team had just finished a large dinner and were beginning to head their separate ways.

“Don’t worry, Papa Dave, I’ll get the kid home safe,” Derek says, giving Spencer a playful noogie.

Spencer agreed to a ride home from Derek at dinner. Maybe it was because their houses were only a few streets away from each others’, or maybe, he still felt a little awkward from your previous conversation with him. You didn’t mind all that much though, after all, you’d finally openly expressed your feelings for him. That was enough for one night.

Rossi carefully backs out of the parking lot, leaving you, Spencer, and Derek still remaining. You stuff your hands in your coat pocket; it’s chilly. You want this night to last forever, yet simultaneously, you hoped it’d end right now. You tilted your head toward your car. Spencer understood.

“Derek,” he says, “are you about ready?”

“Yeah, we can head out whenever you want.”

Spencer ran his hand through his hair before turning around to look at you. He gave you a smile. “I’ll see you Monday, y/n.”

“Bye, Spence,” you say, returning the smile.

_____

“Hey, Derek,” Spencer says as he rubs his fingers over his knuckles.

“What’s up, kid?” Derek responds. He looks over to meet eyes with him quickly.

“Can I, um… can I ask you a question?” Spencer looks at Derek like a lost puppy.

“Woah, the boy genius asking me a question? What has this world come to?”

“It’s about girls.”

“Oh. I see.” Derek knew of Spencer’s trouble with girls. Despite the darkness, he could see the light in the skinny man’s eyes. “Come at me, big guy.” He gave Spencer a pat on the back.

“How do I like… ask one on a date?”

“Oooh, who’s the special lady? Hmmm?”

“Derek, I’m being serious. Please.”

Derek could hear Spencer’s plea in his voice. He understood that Spencer was confiding something foreign to him and truly needed the help of an experienced man.

“Well, what does she like? Don’t take her somewhere too extravagant. Maybe a nice dinner or a breakfast date. Start simple and see how it goes.”

“Okay, but like, how?”

“Step one is speaking to her.”

“I have spoken to her… a lot.”

“The main thing, kid, is just to sound confident. Even if you’re not.”

“But what if she says no? Like how do I turn away from that?”

“There’s no reason for her to say no.”

“Yeah, but like… what if she does? What if she thinks I’m weird? Maybe this is a bad idea…”

Spencer was spiraling. Derek reaches over and puts his arm on Spencer’s shoulder. He turns to him, meeting his eyes.

“Even guys like you are capable of love, kid. Any girl would be lucky to have such a kind and caring man like you, okay? Just go with your gut.”

Derek rounded the turn to Spencer’s road.

“Thank you, Derek, really. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Have a good night, lover boy.”

“You too, Derek.”

_____

next chapter: F is for First Date

other parts: Spencer Reid A-Z Masterlist

view the masterlist in a calendar version!

_____ BUY ME A COFFEE _____

a/n: i've spent the most time on this out of any post i have in a while. kinda hit writer's block pretty bad the other day. i'm really hoping i can get the next part out by sunday, but i work all day tomorrow and idk how much time i'll have time to work on it saturday, but i'm trying my best, i promise.

_____

Have Recommendations? visit my recommendations page to submit your suggestion, no matter how big or small!

_____

taglist: @universallyblizzardlove @ms-ks-world @justlivinginadaydream @dij-ology @lotus-ignis @sammy-4103 @ktssstuff @ada--44 @moongirl27 @monfleurr @shycreationdreamland @cultish-corner @ariianelle @iiheartbowie @spencerreidismybitch @traderjoesmints @ivyflowers13

#spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencereidluver #spencer reid a-z

1K notes · View notes

melancholy-of-nadia · 7 months ago

Text

heart on the window #1 (m) | ksj

title: heart on the window (m) pairing: ksj x reader(f) rating/genre: m (18+) ; smut ; roommates au / streamer/cam boy au / office worker au, childhood rivals to awkward roommates to lovers? au summary: You lost your job, got cheated on by your boyfriend, and had to give up your home—all in the span of a few weeks. Life hasn’t been kind lately, and just when it feels like you’ve hit rock bottom, your mom suggests an unexpected solution: move in with Seokjin, her friend’s son, who you vaguely remember as your annoying childhood rival. You haven't talked to him in like 15 YEARS. But begrudgingly, you agree, hoping for this to be a temporary fix, only to find yourself in a more complicated situation when you discover Seokjin has some dirty little secrets. As you attempt to rebuild your life under his roof, tensions rise, boundaries blur, and you’re forced to confront not only your messy circumstances but also your growing fascination with the man you thought you once knew. note: i actually didn't plan to drop something so soon post me starting my new job, but i had this mostly done but had to edit it up a bit. i've been debating to write a roommate au but couldn't decide which member, until i read @daegudrama's moon over flowers fic where jin is a "content creator" ;) also that jin dating simulator game that released yesterday was a perfect combo to add this with warnings: mild language, roommate! seokjin, stressed out reader, fluff, emotional vulnerability, jin being jin, jin's college frat buddy! namjoon cameo, drinking, implied sexual fantasizing, implied adult content live streaming (camwork), very descriptive solo mast*rbation, voyeurism, dirty talk drop date: November 28th, 2024, 9:00pm pst word count: 7.9k crossposted on ao3 here -> chapter 2

–

This is the state of affairs of your life at the moment. 1. Your boyfriend cheated on you. 2. You lost your job (not your fault) 3. Andddd now you have nowhere to live.

Well… it’s not that you don’t have a place to live, but you don’t want to crawl back to your parents' home after making a very big declaration when you were 18 that you would not be coming back to live there.

Now in your mid 20s (that are slowly creeping into your late 20s), you regret being that loud mouth girl that didn’t understand a damn thing at that age.

You should’ve been smarter about your decisions, starting with your taste in men. You should’ve listened to your friends warnings about Mingi.

You’re on the phone listening to your mom scolding you over your stupidity and lack of preparedness. You roll your eyes as you continue packing your items into boxes. She suggests you coming home, just as you figured she’d do, but you tell her that you feel bad about coming back at your big old age. “Then why don’t you live with Sunghee’s son?”

Who the fuck is Sunghee? “Who?”

“You don’t remember? The mother of the Korean boy you went to school with in elementary school?” You have no clue who she’s talking about. This is something that happened like 15 to 20 years ago. You can’t believe she remembers something so obscure. “I still don’t have a clue.”

“Agh, i’ll go search through some of your old elementary school photos and send you the photo of him later.” You hear some shuffling on her end, probably guessing she decided to get up and go look at your old photographs in the living room shelves.” But I recently saw his mom at a coffee shop! And she told me her son was living in the same city as you and was looking for a roommate. I mentioned that you were in some situation where you might need to move soon and she gave me her and her son’s contact info.”

“I see.”

“Oh wait, hold on, I found it.”

You hear her snap a photo and within a few seconds, you see the notification on your phone peep behind the call. You click on it and when you open the message, the memories of long ago have finally clicked.

“SEOKJIN?! That weird Korean kid?!”

“Weird kid?! You were friends with him, weren’t you?”

You scoff, “Barely, I mean, he and I were always at each other's necks because he always tried to one-up me in any way that he could.” Recalling those annoying memories from that era was making you get upset all over again. If it wasn’t him completing the times table tests at a faster speed than you, it was him showing off the Pokemon cards that you didn’t have. If it wasn’t that, it was him showing off his level and ranking in Maple Story. That damn nerd.

It’s been years, but the thought of it still urks you.

She sighs, “Well, if you’re willing to look past that at your big old age, this is probably the best option you have.”

Could you do that? Maybe. But knowing how he was back then, he’s probably grown to become some loser virgin shut-in with no life. Maybe he’s a tech bro, which would make this even worse now.

“I think about it, but this is probably the last resort option I’d even consider––”

Your mom cuts you off with a sharp sigh. "Fine, suit yourself. But you don’t have many options, do you? Just call him. He might have changed!"

You don’t answer her right away because the idea of calling Seokjin still doesn’t sit well with you. You’re stubborn, yes, but the universe has also served you a big slice of humble pie lately. It’s probably time to stop holding on to petty grudges from a childhood you barely even remember.

"Okay, okay, I’ll think about it," you mumble reluctantly.

The call ends after a few more half-hearted lectures from your mom about responsibility, and you toss your phone onto the bed, glaring at the contact info she forwarded. You can’t help but click on Seokjin’s number. There’s a photo of him attached to the contact, and for a moment, you don’t recognize him at all.

He’s…hot.

You blink. This cannot be the same kid you argued with over best MapleStory boss (Seokjin opting for Pink Bean, while you said Guardian Angel Slime). The Seokjin in this picture has flawless skin, sharp cheekbones, and full lips curled in a smirk that screams confidence. His hair is styled perfectly, and his outfit—a crisp button-up and a fitted blazer—makes him look like he just stepped out of a magazine.

"No way," you mutter under your breath.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you find yourself typing his name into Instagram. It doesn’t take long to find his profile because he has mutual followers and a blue checkmark.

Huh? Why a blue checkmark?

…he has 200,000 followers?

Scrolling through his posts, you see screenshots of video games, clips of intense gameplay, and the occasional selfie with gaming equipment in the background. His captions are filled with gaming slang and memes you barely understand, but the sheer number of likes and comments on every post is undeniable.

One clip catches your eye—a short highlight from a League of Legends game where he pulls off an impressive play, and the comments are flooded with people hyping him up. “JinGod strikes again,” one comment reads. Another says, “Of course he’s the best mid-laner NA. Who else?”

Curious, you dive deeper and discover he has a Twitch account.

Oh! So he’s a streamer?!

Not just any streamer, either—he’s big enough to have sponsors and a massive following. His Twitch bio is straightforward:

Seokjin | Variety Streamer | Big laughs, bigger Ws | 1 PM KST

His stream schedule includes games like Elden Ring, Valorant, League of Legends, and even Getting Over It. There’s a link to his YouTube channel with clips of him absolutely demolishing opponents, mixed with funny moments of him raging at frustrating games.

You stare at your phone, trying to reconcile this version of Seokjin with the kid you used to fight over the last Uncrustables sandwich at lunch. This Seokjin is smooth, funny, and clearly thriving in a world you know nothing about. The comment section on his posts doesn’t help—it’s filled with people thirsting over his voice and his “handsome gamer vibes.”

“Great,” you mutter. “He grew up to be a famous nerd.”

You hate to admit it, but you’re impressed. And irritated.

Of course, Seokjin grew up to be that guy.

You put your phone down and stare at the pile of boxes scattered across your room. It’s not like you have a ton of other options, and if you’re being honest with yourself, the idea of moving in with Seokjin suddenly feels a lot less horrifying. Maybe he’s not the same insufferable kid you remember.

Or maybe he is, and this will be your worst nightmare.

Before you can chicken out, you force yourself to pick up your phone and dial the number your mom sent you. It rings twice before a deep, smooth voice answers.

“Hello?”

“Uh, hi. Is this…Seokjin Kim?” you ask awkwardly, suddenly hyper-aware of how unprepared you are for this conversation.

“Yes, who’s this?”

“It’s, um, [Y/N]. You probably don’t remember me, but—”

“[Y/N]?” he interrupts, and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “The same [Y/N] who used to cry every time I beat her at anything in elementary school? Of course I remember.”

There it is! The Seokjin you cared about so deeply.

“I did not cry!” You roll your eyes, grip on the phone tightening.

He laughs, a low, rich sound that’s somehow both infuriating and…nice. “Sure, you didn’t. So, what’s up? Why are you calling me after, what, fifteen…twenty years? Where did you even get my num–”

You take a deep breath, already regretting this.

“My mom said your mom said you’re looking for a roommate.”

There’s a pause, and then he says, “...I am. Why?"

"I need a place..."

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, you think he’s going to hang up.

“Ah, well why do you need a roommate?” he asks finally, his tone careful, almost guarded. “I thought someone like you would have, I don’t know, a penthouse or something by now with the amazing corporate job my mom told me you have.”

Now this is going to suck to explain to him that whatever decent apartment you had earning a 72,000 salary at your old job is… nonexistent.

You blink at the assumption and quickly fumble for a response. “Haha, not quite. Most places are too expensive in this economy and I’m, uh, downsizing.”

“Downsizing?” he repeats, skepticism dripping from the word. “Why?”

“Because I want to focus on… minimalism.”

There’s silence on the other end, and you can practically hear him trying to decide whether to believe you.

Oh this was a terrible decision to make. Now he must think you’re a fool!

You glance around your room at the boxes piled with all the clutter you couldn’t bring yourself to throw away and wince. Minimalism is definitely not your thing.

“Minimalism,” he echoes, his tone still doubtful. “Right. Well, I do have an extra room, but I’m not sure you’ll like it here.”

Your grip tightens on the phone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Let’s just say I stay up late…,” he replies vaguely.

He must be referring to his streaming career that he isn’t telling you about right now. Wonder if he’s embarrassed by it.

“And I don’t really have time to deal with a high-maintenance roommate.”

The audacity! You did not ask to be attacked right now.

The jab makes your jaw tighten. “I’m not high-maintenance!”

“You sure? Last time I checked, you were the type to lose it over someone messing with your stuff.”

“That was elementary school! I’ve grown up since then.”

“Hmm,” he says, the sound light but still noncommittal. “We’ll see. Come check the place out tomorrow. Noon okay?”

You pause, thrown by his sudden shift. So he’s actually down with you as a roommate? Let’s not get high hopes up now. And if that doesn’t work, you know what? That’s okay. You will find a way… you hope.

“Yeah, that works.”

“Good,” he says, then hesitates before adding, “And bring references.”

“References?!”

“You can never be too careful,” he replies smoothly, but there’s a faint edge in his voice that you can’t quite place.

“Fine,” you snap, already planning to forge something if necessary.

“Great. See you then.”

The call ends before you can say anything else, leaving you staring at your phone. Something about the conversation feels… off. You can’t tell if it’s his hesitance, the cryptic mention of odd hours, or the subtle curiosity in his tone when he asked about your situation.

Or maybe it could be that it’s been around 15 years since you last talked to him so this entire situation feels like a fever dream.

Whatever it is, you’ll find out tomorrow. One way or another.

The next day arrives quicker than you’d like, and before you know it, you’re standing in front of a massive gated complex that looks like it was ripped straight out of a luxury lifestyle magazine. The building towers above you, a blend of sleek modern design and Mediterranean touches. Creamy stucco walls, wrought-iron accents, and lush greenery climbing up the sides of the buildings make it feel more like an exclusive resort than an apartment complex.

The entrance is lined with tall palm trees swaying gently in the breeze, and the scent of freshly mowed grass mingles with the faint floral fragrance from meticulously arranged garden beds. A stone fountain, its water cascading in perfect tiers, sits in the middle of a circular driveway where luxury cars are parked like they belong in an auto show.

You glance down at your outfit, a simple pair of light wash boyfriend jeans and a blue collared sweater, suddenly feeling underdressed.

“He’s living here?” you mutter under your breath, squinting at the address Seokjin sent you last night again to make sure you’re in the right place.

As you shift awkwardly with your bag slung over your shoulder, the wrought-iron gates buzz, and Seokjin steps through.

If the apartment complex wasn’t enough of a surprise, he certainly is.

Gone is the awkward kid from elementary school, and in his place is a man who seems perfectly at home in his expensive surroundings. Dressed casually in a fitted white shirt that clings to his broad shoulders and a pair of ripped jeans that look way too good on him, Seokjin walks toward you with an easy confidence. His dark hair is styled effortlessly, and even from a distance, you can see the faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“[Y/N],” he calls out, his voice smooth and unmistakably amused.

You shift your bag again, suddenly hyper-aware of how you must look standing there in front of the grand gates. “Seokjin,” you reply, your voice coming out a little more clipped than you intended.

As he approaches, he looks you over, his smirk growing wider. “You’re on time. I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show up.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, his tone teasing. “Maybe because I’d be the last person you’d want to ask for help.”

“Desperate times,” you shoot back, ignoring the way his eyes glint in amusement.

Seokjin chuckles and gestures for you to follow him. “Come on, let’s see if you can survive the tour first.”

He leads you through the gates, where a polished path lined with greenery opens into the main courtyard. The sound of water trickling from another fountain fills the air, and you catch glimpses of the complex’s amenities—an infinity pool that looks like it belongs in a five-star hotel, cabanas with flowing white curtains, and a fitness center with floor-to-ceiling glass walls showcasing state-of-the-art equipment.

“This place is ridiculous,” you say under your breath, craning your neck to take it all in.

Seokjin glances back, his smirk still in place. “You’re not wrong. But wait until you see the inside.”

As you step into the lobby, you’re greeted by marble floors that gleam under the warm glow of chandeliers. The air smells faintly of citrus and something luxurious you can’t quite place, and the concierge greets Seokjin with a polite nod as he leads you to the elevator.

“You’re really living the dream here,” you say, unable to hide the note of disbelief in your voice.

He shrugs, leaning casually against the elevator wall. “With the jobs I have. it has its perks.”

The elevator dings, and as the doors slide open, you catch a glimpse of the hallway—plush carpeting, modern art lining the walls, and soft lighting that makes everything feel impossibly serene.

“Ready?” he asks, stepping out and turning to look at you.

You hesitate for just a second before following him. “As I’ll ever be.”

Seokjin leads you down the hallway, his footsteps silent on the plush carpeting. You’re still processing how this guy, the same kid who used to shove his Pokémon cards in your face, is living in a place so fancy it makes your last apartment look like a broom closet.

“This is my place,” he says, stopping in front of a sleek black door with a digital keypad instead of a regular lock.

He types in the code, the lock clicks open, and he pushes the door wide to reveal his apartment.

Your first thought is that it’s huge.

The open-concept living room stretches out before you, its floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the space with natural light. The view outside is stunning—a panoramic sweep of the suburban city skyline and the sparkling blue ocean in the distance. Inside, the place is immaculate, every piece of furniture modern and deliberately chosen. The couch is a neutral gray sectional big enough to seat a small crowd, and there’s a massive TV mounted on the wall, flanked by minimalist shelves filled with what looks like expensive collectibles and gaming gear.

The kitchen is just as impressive, with marble countertops, a matching backsplash, and stainless steel appliances that gleam under the recessed lighting. A sleek island with barstools separates the kitchen from the living room, and you can’t help but wonder if this is where Seokjin spends his time making whatever expensive coffee you saw on his Instagram feed.

“Well?” he says, stepping inside and kicking off his sneakers near the door. “Don’t just stand there gawking.”

You snap your mouth shut and step in, slipping out of your shoes and placing them neatly next to his. The polished hardwood floors feel cool under your socks, and you hesitate, unsure where to stand.

“It’s… nice,” you say finally, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Seokjin chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. “Nice? That’s all you’ve got? Most people would be drooling right now.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” he says, his grin widening. He crosses the room and gestures for you to follow. “Come on, let me show you where you’d be staying.”

He gestures toward the main living area, leading you down a short hallway on the left side of the apartment. “Your room would be down this hall,” he says, motioning for you to follow.

You step into the guest room as he opens the door. It’s spacious, with a queen-sized bed dressed in crisp white linens and a tall, minimalist dresser tucked against one wall. A sleek desk sits by a large window, which offers a view of the glittering cityscape and the ocean beyond. The soft gray walls and warm lighting make the room feel both modern and inviting.

“There’s an en-suite bathroom,” Seokjin says, pushing open another door to reveal a compact but luxurious bathroom with marble finishes and a rainfall shower.

“This is… nice,” you admit, turning to glance at him.

“Only the best,” he replies with a shrug, leaning against the doorframe. “Your hall is completely separate from mine. My room’s on the right side of the apartment, so you won’t have to worry about me invading your space.”

He nods toward the opposite end of the living room, where another hallway extends. “My room’s down there on your left. I have a bathroom in front of it too. Oh. and you’d also have the laundry room and a storage closet near your side.”

You glance back at the main living area, noting the layout. His section of the apartment seems just as private, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved that you won’t be tripping over each other.

“It’s set up pretty well for roommates,” you say carefully, trying to keep your tone neutral.

“Glad you think so,” he replies, leaning casually against the doorframe. “This room used to belong to a friend of mine. He was here for an internship a little over a year ago, but he didn’t stay long. Left everything the way it is in case other friends needed a place to crash.”

“That makes sense,” you say, looking around the room again. “So why are you looking for a roommate now?”

Seokjin hesitates for just a second, his eyes flickering toward the window.

“Well, it would help with a couple of expenses,”

Your brow furrows. Expenses? You glance around the luxury apartment, mentally tallying the rent for a place like this. With what you know about Seokjin’s successful streaming career—and the office job your mom mentioned—he’s probably doing more than fine financially. But you decide not to press him on it.

Instead, you nod. “Makes sense, I guess.”

“And…” He trails off, his expression softening. Oh, so he is going to explain. “I don’t know, as I’m getting closer to thirty, I guess it might be nice to have someone around. Keeps things from feeling too…quiet.”

The honesty in his voice surprises you, and for a brief moment, you see a different side of him. One that’s not teasing or smug, but… a little lonely, maybe.

You nod again, this time more slowly. “Fair enough. This does happen as we age.”

Seokjin straightens, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it came. “Anyway,” he says, his tone shifting back to its usual playful edge. “We can talk about me more later.”

He gestures for you to follow him back toward the living room.

“Why don’t we sit down and talk first?” he continues, his smirk fading slightly as his expression turns unreadable. “Just want to make sure we’re on the same page before I let you move in.”

You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Sure. Let’s talk.”

You follow him to the couch, your curiosity about his reasons for taking on a roommate still lingering in the back of your mind.

As you settle onto the couch, Seokjin sits across from you in a sleek armchair, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. It’s like he’s studying you, trying to piece together the situation without asking directly.

“So,” he begins, leaning forward slightly, “I already know you lost your job.”

You freeze. The words hang in the air, and your stomach sinks.

“How do you know that?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “My mom told me earlier today. She’s the one who convinced me to even think about this arrangement.”

Heat floods your cheeks, embarrassment prickling at your skin. Of course. Your mom couldn’t just leave you well enough alone so she told his mom.

“Oh,”

“It’s not a big deal,” he says quickly, likely noticing your discomfort. “Things happen, you know? Besides, knowing you, you probably have some savings tucked away to cover rent, right?”

His words hit harder than he probably intended. Sure, you’ve got a little money saved, but it’s dwindling fast. The thought of handing over any of it feels like admitting defeat, a glaring reminder that you’re not where you thought you’d be at this point in your life.

As Seokjin keeps talking, his tone casual and reassuring, his words blur into the background. You’re trapped in your own thoughts, spiraling.

How did it come to this?

Broke, jobless, and now sitting here asking for a place to live like some helpless kid. You remember being so confident, so sure of yourself when you left home. You went through grueling years of studying finance in college and graduating. Now you’re here, facing the reality that you’re nowhere near where you thought you’d be.

It’s just so pathetic.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a tear slips down your cheek and lands on your hand.

Seokjin stops mid-sentence. “Hey,” he says softly, his voice cutting through your haze. “Are you… crying?”

You wipe at your face quickly, but it’s no use—the tears are falling faster now, and you’re too overwhelmed to stop them. “I’m sorry,” you mumble, mortified. “I don’t even know why—”

“Don’t apologize,” he interrupts, his voice gentle in a way you didn’t expect. He shifts forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he watches you carefully. “It’s okay.”

You shake your head, still swiping at your cheeks. “This is so stupid. I just… I hate being in this position. It’s not where I thought I’d be, and it’s just…” You trail off, your voice breaking.

For a moment, Seokjin doesn’t say anything. Then, he reaches for a tissue box on the coffee table and holds it out to you.

“Here,” he says simply.

You take a tissue and dab at your face, trying to pull yourself together.

“I get it,” he says after a pause, his tone softer now. “Life doesn’t always go how we plan. Trust me, I’ve been there.”

You glance at him, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. “Really?”

He nods, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah. But you’re not alone, okay? And if you need a place to figure things out, I’m offering you one. No strings, no judgment. But knowing how you’d feel bad for not paying back, just pitch in for some groceries or takeout every once in awhile.”

His words hit you harder than the tears, and you feel a small spark of hope for the first time in a while. Maybe, just maybe, this could work out.

You take a deep breath, the tissue in your hand crumpled from how tightly you’ve been gripping it. “Thanks, Seokjin,” you say, your voice shaky but genuine.

He gives you a small smile, his usual teasing edge softened. “Don’t mention it. Seriously. Just don’t leave your dirty dishes in the sink, and we’ll be fine.”

A faint laugh escapes you, surprising even yourself. “I think I can manage that.”

He stands up, stretching his arms overhead before motioning toward the hallway. “If you need help with your stuff, just let me know.”

You nod, feeling a little more grounded. “I will.”

The next morning, you’re standing outside your old apartment building, the last of your boxes stacked neatly by the curb. Before leaving the day before, you did ask Jin if he could help you move some of your stuff, and he somehow kindly agreed.

You’ve barely had time to double-check everything when you hear the rumble of a truck pulling up. Turning toward the sound, you see a sleek gray Ford truck roll to a stop in front of you.

Seokjin hops out of the driver’s seat, dressed casually in a lavender hoodie and dark wash jeans, looking every bit the picture of someone who’s done this a hundred times before. On the passenger side, another guy climbs out, taller and broader than Jin, with dimples flashing in a warm smile.

Woah, he’s kind of cute.

“Morning,” Seokjin calls, striding toward you. He gestures to the other man. “This is Namjoon. He’s here to help out with the heavier things.”

“Hi [Y/N],” Namjoon says, his voice deep but friendly as he extends a hand. “Jin told me you needed an extra set of hands, so here I am.”

You shake his hand, still a little taken aback. “Thanks. Nice to meet you, Namjoon.”

“He’s an old college buddy,” Seokjin explains, leaning against the side of the truck. “We were in the same professional fraternity back in the day. That’s how we met.”

Namjoon chuckles, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah, Jin somehow convinced me to join since we were floormates. Said it would look good on my resume. Ended up being one of the best decisions I made, though. The networking was great, and we had a lot of fun.”

“Too much fun,” Seokjin adds with a smirk. “I think we spent half our time organizing events and the other half trying to keep Namjoon from breaking stuff.”

Namjoon groans, his dimples deepening as he laughs. “Okay, that was one time—and it wasn’t even my fault!”

You find yourself smiling at their bickering and brief memory despite the stress of the day. Their banter feels easy and natural, a dynamic that’s comforting in a way you hadn’t expected. It’s nice to hear Jin had a pretty cool college experience.

“Well,” Namjoon says, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get started. The sooner we load this up, the sooner we can get everything settled.”

Between the three of you, the boxes are loaded into the truck in no time. Namjoon lifts the heavier ones like they’re nothing, while Seokjin teases him about showing off. You carry the smaller items, grateful for their help and relieved that the process is moving quickly.

Once the last box is secured in the truck bed, Seokjin glances over at you. “Ready to head out?”

You nod, brushing your hands off on your jeans. “Yeah. I’ll follow behind you guys with my car.”

As your car and his truck pulls away from your old apartment, you find yourself feeling a little lighter. It’s still hard to believe this is your life right now, but it doesn’t feel quite as overwhelming. Maybe, just maybe, this new chapter won’t be so bad after all.

The move-in process is exhausting but efficient. Seokjin and Namjoon take charge of the heavier boxes while you focus on the smaller ones. Your room starts to take shape, with your bed frame set up in one corner and your essentials arranged along the walls. The other boxes you don’t need immediately are stacked neatly in the living room, ready to be taken to your parents’ place for temporary storage later.

After two hours of hauling, unpacking, and arranging, the three of you are sweaty and starving.

“I think that’s everything,” Namjoon says, leaning against the couch and wiping his forehead with the hem of his shirt.

“Pizza?” Seokjin asks, already pulling out his phone.

“Pizza,” you and Namjoon echo in unison.

“And chicken wings,” Namjoon adds with a grin. “We earned it.”

“And beer,” Seokjin finishes, smirking. “That sounds good to you?”

You nod happily.

Within half an hour, the smell of pepperoni, garlic, and fried chicken fills the apartment. The three of you gather around the coffee table in the living room, the TV playing 30 Rock quietly in the background. You sit cross-legged on the rug while Seokjin and Namjoon sprawl on the couch, all of you diving into the food like it’s the best meal you’ve ever had.

“So, Namjoon,” you start between bites of pizza, “what do you do now? Not breaking stuff as Jin mentioned, right?”

He laughs, a deep, warm sound that makes you smile. “Thankfully, no. I’m working in publishing now, managing creative projects. Still a little chaotic, but at least it’s not as physically dangerous.”

“Only mentally,” Seokjin teases, raising his beer.

“True,” Namjoon admits, clinking his bottle against Jin’s.

“What about you?” Namjoon asks, turning the attention to you. “What do you do?”

You hesitate, picking at the crust of your pizza. “I worked at a fashion company, but the company underwent some layoffs. So this is kind of…a transitional period for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I know it’s been a tough market, but with your focused attitude and experience, I’m sure you’ll find something new soon.”

“I hope so.”

After a few more slices and some casual conversation about work, gaming, and travel, the beers start to settle in. The atmosphere grows looser, and the conversation takes a turn into more, juicier topics.

“So,” Seokjin begins, leaning back against the armrest with a mischievous grin. “Getting into a more interesting topic…Relationships. What’s the story there?”

You groan, covering your face with your hands. “All of a sudden? Why do I feel like this is a setup?”

“It’s not a setup. We’re just curious. Plus easy topic to become closer.”

Namjoon chuckles, “Don’t bring me into this, Jin,”

“Well…” You pause, debating how much to share. The buzz from the beer nudges you toward honesty. “Without going to deep into it, let’s just say my last relationship ended badly. Cheating, lies, the whole package.”

Seokjin winces. “Ouch. That’s rough.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” you admit, swirling your drink. “But honestly, it’s probably for the best. I’ve got enough on my plate right now without dealing with that kind of drama.”

Namjoon nods thoughtfully. “It’s hard to find someone who’s actually worth your time these days. Everyone’s either too focused on themselves or doesn’t know what they want.”

Seokjin chuckles, a slightly bitter edge to his tone. “Or they’re just not ready to commit, no matter how much they say they are.”

You glance at him, intrigued by the shift in his demeanor. “Speaking from experience?”

He shrugs, taking a sip of his beer. “I plead the fifth.”

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t press further. You decide not to either.

“What about you, Namjoon?” you ask, redirecting the spotlight. “Any tragic love stories to share?”

He grins, shaking his head. “Nothing tragic, thankfully. Just a lot of learning experiences. I’ve been too focused on work to really put myself out there lately.”

The conversation continues, flowing easily despite the heavy topic. As the night stretches on, you find yourself feeling unexpectedly comfortable. Seokjin and Namjoon’s company has been a comfortable change of pace from prior weeks of being alone and dealing with the aftermath of your ended relationship and job. Being all alone with your thoughts hasn’t been easy. Lost in a whirlpool of negative thoughts. And with your closest friends, Yunjin and Wendy, living miles away, even leaning on them hadn’t been an option.

But for the first time in a while, you could even say you feel happy to be around others.

The clock on the wall creeps past 11:00pm, and Namjoon glances at his phone with a small sigh. “I should probably get going before it gets too late.”

“Already?” Seokjin teases, though his tone is more playful than serious.

Namjoon chuckles. “Some of us have a really early morning commute tomorrow, Jin.” He stands, stretching his arms overhead before reaching for his jacket.

“I do too, you know!”

“But hey, this was fun. I’ll definitely swing by again. I’ll see you for your monthly Marvel movie nights, right?”

Seokjin grins. “You know it. You can’t miss those!”

Namjoon laughs, shaking his head fondly. “Yeah, yeah. Let me know when the next one is.”

You and Seokjin walk him to the elevator, chatting casually as you descend to the ground floor. Outside, the air is cooler, a light breeze stirring as Namjoon’s Uber pulls up to the curb.

“Thanks for helping out today,” you say, offering him a grateful smile. “I don’t think we could’ve done it without you.”

“Anytime,” Namjoon replies warmly. “And welcome to the apartment. I’m sure Jin’ll keep things interesting for you.”

Seokjin snorts.

Namjoon smirks. “See you both soon!”

With a wave, Namjoon climbs into the car, and you watch as it drives off into the night.

You and Seokjin linger outside for a moment, the hum of the city quieting as the car disappears from view.

“Well,” Seokjin says after a beat, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Guess it’s just us now.”

“Looks like it,” you reply, feeling a strange mix of ease and uncertainty.

Well you did just unload some emotional baggage about your shitty past relationship earlier. The alcohol running through your veins isn’t helping either.

“Come on,” he says, nodding toward the entrance. “Let’s get back inside. You’ve had a long day.”

You follow Jin back to the apartment, the soft hum of the elevator ride and the quiet hallways lulling you into a peaceful state. Once inside, the two of you automatically start tidying up the coffee table and living area, picking up empty beer bottles, wiping down surfaces, and folding the napkins that had been left scattered. It’s a quiet, easy rhythm, and before long, the space looks just as pristine as when you first arrived.

“I think we’ve earned a good night’s sleep.”

You nod, stifling a yawn. “Agreed. Thanks again, Jin… for everything.”

He shrugs, his expression light but genuine. “Don’t mention it. Get some rest, Roomie.”

You laugh, “Will do.”

With that, Jin heads down the hallway to the right, disappearing into his room. You make your way to the left, to your room, the soft padding of your steps on the hardwood floor the only sound.

Once inside, you close the door and lean against it for a moment, letting the day’s events settle in your mind. Your room is still sparse, with only the basics unpacked, but it feels cozy enough. The bed, made with fresh sheets, beckons invitingly, and your unpacked boxes wait patiently in the corner, reminding you there’s more work to be done tomorrow.

You slip into something comfortable, wash your face, and settle under the covers. The bed is surprisingly soft, the kind that you could sink into and never leave. But despite the exhaustion tugging at your body, sleep doesn’t come right away.

Your thoughts drift, unbidden, to Jin’s easy demeanor since you’ve started talking to him again. His kind words. His quick, charming smile and laughter. His height—tall enough that you had to tilt your head to look him in the eye. And those plump lips of his…

Huh? No, no wait a minute!

You blink at the ceiling, catching your thoughts veering dangerously south. What the hell is wrong with you? Maybe it’s the beer, or maybe it’s the fact that kindness from a man feels so foreign after everything you’ve been through. Whatever it is, your brain is doing laps around something you absolutely should not be thinking about.

Gross. Stop it. You scrunch your face in frustration, trying to shake the image of Jin’s stupidly handsome face from your mind.

This is Seokjin, your childhood rival, the annoying kid who used to show off his stupid gaming collection and beat you at literally everything. That’s all he is. That’s all he’ll ever be.

He is just kindly letting you stay with him, but you know he’s going to be waiting for you to move out soon enough.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Sleep. That’s what you need. Just sleep.

With a groan, you roll over and pull the covers up to your chin, willing your thoughts to calm down. Eventually, you manage to quiet your mind, and your eyes drift shut. Slowly, the tension in your body melts away, and for the first time in what feels like ages, you fall into a deep, uninterrupted sleep.

It’s the kind of sleep that cradles you, soothing the jagged edges of your worries. The stressors in your life—the layoff, the breakup, the uncertainty of your future—haven’t disappeared, but for once, they feel distant, safely tucked on the backburner. This new chapter isn’t perfect, but at least one major burden has been lifted, and that’s enough for now.

Until it isn’t.

The urge comes on suddenly, pulling you from the cocoon of rest. You blink groggily, your senses slowly catching up to reality as you register the weight pressing against your bladder. Turning your head to the side, you squint at the clock on your phone: 2:33 a.m.

You need to pee.

You groan softly. Of course. Why wouldn’t your body choose the middle of the night to interrupt what was probably the nicest sleep you’ve had in months? Throwing off the covers, you shuffle out of bed and head for the bathroom, still half-asleep and stumbling in your room as you walk inside the en-suite bathroom.

The cool tile under your feet jolts you a bit closer to full consciousness. The soft hum of the apartment at night feels oddly soothing, even as you fumble to turn on the light.

After finishing up and washing your hands, you pause for a moment, the dryness in your throat making itself known. Great. Now you’re thirsty too.

The memory of Jin mentioning the case of bottled water he keeps under the kitchen sink stops you. Sighing, you quietly slip out of your room, padding into the darkened apartment.

The space is eerily still, the shadows from the streetlights outside casting faint patterns across the floor of the living room. You make your way to the kitchen, carefully navigating around the furniture, not wanting to stub a toe or knock anything over.

Opening one of the cabinet beneath the sink, you find the water bottle case Jin mentioned. The plastic crinkles as you grab a bottle, and you wince, hoping the noise doesn’t carry too far. Closing the cabinet as quietly as you can, you straighten up and twist the cap open, taking a long, refreshing sip.

As you stand there, your gaze drifts toward the living room and the hallway that leads toward Jin’s room. You notice light seeping from below the doorway. Is he still up? Shouldn’t he be sleeping? He did mention something earlier about needing to head into the office in the morning.

Well… maybe he’s streaming? Jin has been kind of hesitant to talk openly about his side hustle, but after your harmless sleuthing on his Instagram the other day, it makes sense to have this type of scheduling. His posts, the tags, the casual mentions of late-night work—it all points to streaming. And why not? No shame in being a streamer. Plenty of people are wildly successful doing it. And he’s probably catering to overseas fans in Asia during these hours.

You shrug to yourself. Whatever he’s doing, it’s not your business.

Deciding not to overthink it, you turn to head back to your room. But after a couple of steps in the living room, a faint noise catches your attention.

You freeze.

A voice… soft, low, and unmistakably a moan.

Your breath hitches as the sound cuts through the stillness, sending your thoughts racing. What was that…?

Haha… you must be overthinking things.

For a moment, you stand there, unsure whether to move or pretend you didn’t hear anything at all.

But now, from this angle, you notice something else. Jin’s door isn’t fully closed. It’s very, very slightly ajar.

The realization makes your pulse quicken. You’re not sure why—it’s not like you were planning to barge in or anything. But the faint glow spilling from the room and that sound… it feels like you’ve stumbled into something you weren’t meant to witness.

Your eyes dart to the gap in the doorway, then back to your water bottle. Just go to bed, you tell yourself. Whatever Jin is doing is none of your business. You’ve already overstepped enough by loitering here in the middle of the night.

But your feet don’t move.

Instead, you find yourself stepping a bit closer, trying to make sense of what’s going on. The soft glow of a screen flickers against the walls, accompanied by faint, muffled sounds—another low moan, followed by a voice, Jin’s voice, quiet but distinct.

He’s probably just streaming, you reason, though your mind betrays you, replaying the noise you just heard. That didn’t sound like any gaming commentary you’ve ever heard.

Your curiosity battles with your better judgment. This is weird. This is weird. Go back to bed, you scold yourself. Yet, you find yourself taking a hesitant step closer, your bare feet silent against the floor.

Peering at the slight crack in the door, you catch a glimpse of Jin sitting at his desk, his back to the door. He’s wearing a loose-fitting hoodie, the hood pulled halfway up, and his headphones cover his ears.

You hesitate for just a moment too long, your eyes flickering back to the gap in the door. Jin shifts slightly in his chair, and that’s when you see it—his hand moving slowly, deliberately, along the length of his member.

Oh my god…

Your breath catches in your throat as the realization slams into you.

You catch yourself lingering, unable to look away despite every nerve in your body screaming at you to turn back. Jin’s hoodie hangs loosely over his broad shoulders, the fabric shifting slightly with his movements. His hand moves with deliberate intent, wrapping firmly around his length as he strokes himself in a slow, unhurried rhythm.

The motion is mesmerizing, almost practiced—his grip tightening subtly at the base before sliding upward, then loosening as his hand glides back down. His fingers flex with precision, coaxing soft, breathy moans from his lips, barely audible but enough to make your skin prickle.

He shifts in his chair, angling himself slightly toward the camera, his movements smooth and calculated. His legs are spread comfortably apart, the outline of his frame illuminated by the soft glow of the monitor. The confidence in his actions is undeniable, as if he’s done this countless times before, every motion intentional and deliberate for the audience he can’t see but knows is watching.

Your heart pounds harder when his strokes pick up pace briefly, then slow again, teasing, calculated. His chest rises and falls in measured breaths, and every now and then, a low groan escapes, richer and deeper than the softer sounds he’s been making.

“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” Jin murmurs suddenly, his tone smooth and teasing, almost playful. You jump up slightly from the sudden spoken words. His strokes grow a fraction faster, his hand tightening briefly before loosening again. “Bet you’ve been waiting all day for this.”

The faint click of his mouse follows, likely scrolling through the flood of comments. A soft chuckle escapes his lips, and he tilts his head as if he’s reading something amusing.

“Oh, you want me to go slower?” he says, his voice dropping a notch, rich and deliberate. His movements follow suit, his hand sliding torturously slow along his length, eliciting a low groan from deep in his chest. “Patience. You’ll get what you’re asking for. Just keep watching.”

He shifts in his chair, leaning back slightly, his free hand brushing over his thigh. “Such a needy audience tonight,” he adds with a smirk, his tone dripping with mock indulgence. “But I guess I can’t blame you. You love it when I take my time, don’t you?”

Your breath catches as you hear the faintest hitch in his voice, a sign that even he isn’t immune to his own ministrations. “Mm, that’s it,” he murmurs, his strokes quickening again as his chest rises and falls in heavier breaths. “Keep telling me what you want. I can’t get enough of it.”

The chat on his screen is moving so quickly it’s impossible to follow, but he clearly can. His responses are measured, tailored, and completely immersed in the moment.

“You’re spoiling me tonight,” he says with a breathy laugh, likely reacting to a particularly generous tip or comment. His hand slows again, teasing, his thumb brushing over the tip of his length in a way that draws a soft, shuddering groan from his lips. “Guess I should return the favor, huh?”

His voice lowers further, almost a whisper, intimate in a way that makes your heart pound. “Let me know how much you’re enjoying this,” he says, his words melting into another low moan. “Because I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

Your pulse races as you watch him lean back slightly, adjusting his position to maintain his pace, his focus entirely on the screen and the comments it displays. The intimacy of the scene feels almost overwhelming, and it’s enough to snap you out of your trance.

You step back, your breath hitching as you force yourself to retreat. Whatever this is, you weren’t meant to see it!

And yet the image is burned into your mind as you close your door, your thoughts swirling in a storm of confusion, embarrassment, and curiosity.

Oh my fucking god…

The soft click of the mouse breaks you from your trance, and you realize you’ve been standing there far too long. Before Jin can notice anything amiss, you step away from his side of the apartment as quietly as possible, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.

You retreat down the hall to your room, shutting the door behind you with trembling hands. Leaning against it, you try to catch your breath, your mind racing. Jin, your childhood rival and now your new roommate, is apparently living a double life you never could have anticipated.

Never mind.

This new life that you’re living, will not be easy at all.

a/n: happy thanksgiving!! this is another very short series i plan to make with around 3-5 chapters. i'll keep brainstorming and slowly writing this along with my a(myg)dala fic series... but this is very brainrot not too heavy focus on plot so i probably won't take long to continue it compared to the other series hehe!! thank you all for the support and for reading!

➸ let me know what you think OR join the taglist for future works! ➸ check out my masterlist for other fics I have made

#seokjin x reader #jin x reader #kim seokjin #bts smut #jin smut #seokjin smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #smut #heart on the window #bts fic #bts #seokjin x y/n #jin fic #bts x reader #bts x y/n

284 notes · View notes