#and its locked and hidden and maybe if someone where to REALLY push they would be able to open up and/or find those things hidden away... | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mononijikayu · 10 months ago

Text

strip poker — gojo satoru.

You leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping just enough for only him to hear. “Alright, Gojo Satoru. Since you’re so persistent… How about we make this interesting?” He raised an eyebrow, a playful grin forming on his lips. “Oh? I’m listening to you, doll.” he replied, clearly intrigued by whatever you had in mind. You took a sip of your drink, letting the silence hang between you for a moment, watching as his eyes remained locked on yours, his curiosity practically radiating off him. “Strip poker.” you said finally, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Just you and me. What do you say?”

WARNING/s: NSFW (R18+), Fluff, Romance, Love at First Sight, Strangers to Lovers, Pet Names (Doll, Boy, Baby, Etc), Profanity, Stripping Clothes, Oral Sex, Fingering, P to V Sex, Kissing, Making Out, Humor, Flirting, Teasing, Mention of Stripping, Mention of Body Parts, Mention of Sexual Acts, Mention of Alcohol, Depiction of Sexual Acts, Depiction of Nudity, Depiction of Alcoholic Beverage;

WORDS: 7.8k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: lately a lot of my works were really long, so i realized people need a refreshing thing from me than my long story formats. i thought about this during a writing block and i just thought that maybe, satoru would be the type to enjoy something like this, you know? and i think shoko and suguru would just try to make gojo greet all the guests and he'll be pouty. unless its reader, because reader is loved by gojo a lot (he just met you at this party) but anyway, if i posted this, it means the majority poll meant gojo won. but anyway i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all~ 🫶

ADDENDUM: with an hour left in the vote and the gap being wide — gojo does win 🙂‍↕️

main masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶��⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

HE WAS LOOKING FOR SOMETHING EXCITING. Gojo Satoru leaned against the doorway, his drink swirling lazily in his hand, the dim light of the room casting playful shadows across his face. His eyes, those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see everything and nothing at once, were fixed on you. You were standing with Shoko and Suguru, laughing at some private joke, and he couldn't help but wonder how he had never noticed you before.

It was strange. He knew everyone worth knowing, especially those who moved in Shoko's and Suguru's circles. But you... you were different. Your laughter was genuine, your smile bright, and there was a certain ease to the way you carried yourself—a confidence that wasn’t showy but quietly powerful, drawing people in without even trying.

As you spoke, he watched the way your lips curved into a grin, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief. He could see that Suguru was captivated, leaning in to listen more closely, while Shoko rolled her eyes with a fond smile that suggested she was used to whatever game you were playing. Satoru couldn't quite hear what you were saying from where he stood, but he caught snippets of your voice, warm and inviting, tinged with a teasing edge that piqued his curiosity even more.

"How is it," he muttered to himself, "that someone like you has managed to slip under my radar?"

He took a sip of his drink, his gaze never wavering, trying to piece together the puzzle that was you. Maybe you were new to their circle, or perhaps you had always been there, hidden in plain sight, and he just hadn’t been paying close enough attention. Either way, he was intrigued, and that wasn't something that happened often.

When Shoko glanced over and caught his eye, she raised an eyebrow, smirking as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. He gave her a playful wink in response, but his attention quickly returned to you.

Suguru, noticing the shift in focus, turned and followed Shoko's gaze, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. "Satoru, come here." he called out, motioning for him to join. "Why are you lurking over there like a ghost at a party? Come say hi."

Satoru grinned and pushed himself off the doorframe, making his way over with a casual, easy stride. "I wouldn’t call it lurking, Suguboo." he said, slipping effortlessly into the group, his gaze still locked on you. "Just... observing."

You turned to face him fully, and for the first time, he felt the full force of your presence. Up close, you were even more intriguing—eyes bright and challenging, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "Observing, huh?" you echoed, clearly amused. "Is that what they’re calling it these days?"

His grin widened, loving the way you didn’t shrink under his scrutiny but seemed to meet it head-on. "Well, you know, doll." he replied smoothly, "I like to get a feel for things before diving in."

Shoko snorted softly, rolling her eyes. "Translation: he likes to watch before he pounces."

"Careful, Satoru." Suguru added with a chuckle. "You’re starting to sound like a creep."

Satoru laughed, the sound light and carefree. "Maybe I am, Maybe I’m not." he admitted, his gaze still fixed on you. "But I like to have some good surprises for the interesting ones."

Your smile widened, clearly enjoying the attention, and you leaned in slightly, closing the distance between you. "So, am I interesting to you, Gojo?"

He felt a spark of electricity at the way you said his name, the way it rolled off your tongue like you’d known him for years. “Oh, definitely.” he replied, his voice dropping to a low, playful drawl. “Interesting enough to make me wonder how I've missed you all this time.”

You laughed softly, a sound that sent a pleasant shiver down his spine. “Maybe you just weren’t looking hard enough.” you teased him. “Maybe you need to have a better look, don’t you think?”

He leaned in closer, his smile turning sly. “Oh, I’m looking now.”

There was a beat of silence, charged with unspoken words and possibilities, and Satoru could feel the air between you crackle with an almost tangible energy. He was used to this game, the dance of flirtation, but there was something about you that felt different—like you were two steps ahead of him, and he was enjoying every second of trying to catch up.

“Let’s see if you can keep up.” you said, your eyes glinting with challenge. “Because I’m not that easy to catch, Gojo.”

His grin widened, excitement bubbling up in his chest. “Oh, I do love a challenge, doll.” he murmured, taking another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving yours. “And trust me, I’m very persistent when I sense something good for me.”

“Then am I good for you?” You grinned at him, eyes full of amusement.

He returned your grin. “Why, the moment I saw you, doll — you were good for me and all of my lifetimes.”

Suguru and Shoko exchanged glances, their amusement clear as they observed the growing tension between you and Satoru. Shoko's eyes sparkled with mischief, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama, while Suguru's smirk spoke of his own quiet amusement at the game Satoru was now fully immersed in. They didn’t need to say a word; their silent communication conveyed everything—this was going to be entertaining.

Satoru, however, was oblivious to their silent exchange. His focus was entirely on you, his mind buzzing with possibilities. The playful challenge you’d just thrown at him had ignited a spark of curiosity and interest that he couldn’t ignore. As he watched you, the way your eyes sparkled with mischief and your smile held a promise of excitement, he found himself drawn in even more.

You leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping just enough for only him to hear. “Alright, Gojo since you’re so persistent… How about we make this interesting?”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful grin forming on his lips. “Oh? I’m listening to you, doll.” he replied, clearly intrigued by whatever you had in mind.

You took a sip of your drink, letting the silence hang between you for a moment, watching as his eyes remained locked on yours, his curiosity practically radiating off him. “Strip poker.” you said finally, a mischievous glint in your eye. “Just you and me. What do you say?”

"Are you serious?" Satoru chuckled, his grin spreading wide across his face. The light overhead cast a gleam on his white hair, making him look even more striking under the dim glow of the room.

"Dead serious, darling." you replied, eyes glinting with a playful challenge. "Unless, of course, the great Gojo Satoru is afraid of a little game."

His grin only widened at the bait. "Afraid? Not exactly my style. But I've got to admit, it's not every day someone proposes strip poker to me the first time we meet." He took a sip from his drink, eyes never leaving yours, scanning for any sign of bluff or mischief.

You shrugged, leaning against the table with an easy confidence that only intrigued him more. "What can I say? I like to keep things interesting. And you looked like you could use a little excitement."

He laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. "So, what's the catch? I lose, and you get a fun little story to tell your friends? Or do I win, and...?"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Who says I intend to lose? Besides, winning isn't everything. It's the fun in between, Satoru."

He blinked at the use of his first name, a small surprise evident in his expression. Most people would hesitate to use it so casually, but coming from you, it felt oddly natural—like it had always been meant to be spoken by you. There was something about the way you said it, with that hint of mischief and confidence, that made it feel less like an invasion of personal space and more like an intimate invitation.

For a moment, Satoru’s gaze flickered around the room. It was then that he realized Shoko and Suguru had somehow vanished. The two had a knack for disappearing at precisely the right moment, leaving him in a situation that was both intriguing and precarious. Typical of them, really. They always seemed to know exactly when to make their exit, leaving him to fend for himself in whatever delightful predicament they had orchestrated.

A chuckle escaped his lips as he looked back at you, his eyes twinkling with both amusement and a hint of challenge. “Well, it looks like we’re on our own.” he said, his tone light but laced with a playful edge. “I suppose that means we get to make our own rules now.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the turn of events. “Seems like it, glasses.” you replied, your voice smooth and teasing. “So, what do you say?”

He grinned, the playful glint in his eyes growing stronger. “I think we should make the most of this opportunity, doll. Let’s not waste time,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze never leaving yours. “After all, it’s not every day I get to have a game of strip poker with someone as intriguing as you.”

His words were laced with a mix of flirtation and eagerness, his tone smooth and inviting. The term “doll” came out with a casual intimacy, making the moment feel even more charged. You could feel the heat between you intensify as he closed the distance, his presence commanding and electrifying.

You met his gaze with a confident smile, your heart racing a little faster. “Alright, Gojo.” you replied, your voice low and sultry. He pouts. You returned to calling him by his last name. You liked teasing him, he thinks. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“You better watch it, doll.” he said, setting his drink down and crossing his arms over his chest, still grinning. “I’ll bite. Let’s play. But don’t expect me to go easy on you. And don’t think for a second that I’ll be the one taking off anything first.”

You laughed, a sound that made him feel strangely lighter, more at ease. “Oh, I’m counting on it.” you said, your voice full of playful confidence.

His grin widened, the challenge lighting up his expression. “You’re so interesting, doll.” He chuckled, clearly delighted. “Where have you been all my life?”

You tilted your head slightly, enjoying the way his words seemed to both flatter and intrigue. “Well, you know….” you replied, your tone teasing. “Maybe I’ve been waiting for the right moment to make an entrance. And tonight, it looks like the stars finally aligned.”

Satoru’s eyes sparkled with genuine curiosity and admiration. “I have to say, I’m glad they did, doll.” he said, leaning in a bit closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Because you’ve definitely made this night unforgettable.”

“You’re quite the flirt.”

“Gotta shoot all the shots to win, doll.” He winks at you.

You shrugged, your smile teasing. “Well, you say this now….but you’ll lose to me too.”

He laughed, a carefree, confident sound that made Shoko and Suguru glance over with a raised eyebrow from a distant space. “Oh, I never lose.” he replied, leaning closer, his voice a low, tempting drawl. “Especially not when there’s something I really want.”

You rolled your eyes, but your grin didn’t fade. “Then prove it.” you said, nodding toward a quieter, dimly lit room down the hall. “Let’s go.”

Satoru, for his part, didn’t hesitate. He set his drink down with a casual flick of his wrist, his bright cerulean eyes still locked on yours as he pushed off the wall. He reached out and took your hand, his grip warm and confident.

“Lead the way, doll.” he said, his voice dripping with playful challenge.

You felt a rush of excitement at his quick agreement, and you couldn’t help but grin. You felt a thrill of excitement as you led him down the hall, the dim lighting casting soft shadows and adding an air of intimacy to the moment. With every step, the noise of the party grew more distant, replaced by the soft thrum of your heartbeat and the electric tension between you.

As you reached the door to the quieter room, you glanced back at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips. Gojo Satoru’s gaze was unwavering, his bright eyes reflecting a mixture of anticipation and admiration. He could feel the adrenaline in him. This was exciting. And he liked it. He liked you.

You pushed open the door, revealing a cozy, dimly lit space that felt almost like a secret hideaway. The room was furnished simply but comfortably, with a plush carpet and a few scattered cushions. It was the perfect setting for the game you had in mind.

He looked around, a playful smirk still on his face. “Alright, doll.” he said, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a chair. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

You grabbed a deck of cards from a nearby table, shuffling them with a practiced ease. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you, Gojo.” you teased, dealing the cards out between you.

Satoru sat opposite you, his posture relaxed, but his gaze was intense, locked onto you with an almost predatory focus. “I think I’ll take my chances, doll.” he replied smoothly. “And please, call me Satoru. Gojo is too formal for your gorgeous lips to mouth.”

You smiled, enjoying the tension that hung thick in the air between you, the game already beginning before a single card was played. "Alright then, Satoru." you said, your voice dripping with anticipation. "Let’s see who’s getting undressed first."

He chuckled, picking up his cards and leaning back comfortably. “Oh, it’s on now.”

And just like that, the game was set—a battle of wits, charm, and maybe something more.

You watched as his long legs folded with a graceful ease that didn’t quite match the competitive glint in his cocky blue eyes. He grabbed a deck of cards from a nearby table, his movements fluid, almost theatrical as he shuffled with deft, experienced hands.

You sat across from him, the distance between you feeling both vast and electric, like an unspoken challenge hanging in the air. The way you held his gaze, unwavering and unyielding, only made Gojo Satoru more intrigued. He wasn’t used to people looking at him like that—like he was just another person in the room, not just some role people fit upon him or a man with a reputation that preceded him.

“So, doll….” he began, dealing out the first hand with a practiced flick of his wrist. “How do you know Shoko and Suguru? And why haven't we met before tonight?”

You picked up your cards, smiling slyly. “Oh, I’m sure they’ve mentioned me. I’m just good at staying under the radar… when I want to.”

He leaned back, considering your words. “Mysterious. I like that. But I'm pretty good at picking up on secrets. Better watch out.”

You chuckled softly. “I think I’ll take my chances.”

The game began, and with each round, you both played with a mix of strategy and daring. He tried to read you, his eyes narrowing whenever you made a bold move, but you held your own, bluffing with an expertise that surprised him. His usual smug grin faltered slightly, and you could tell he was trying to decipher the mystery in your gaze. The room seemed to shrink with the tension between you, each card dealt heightening the stakes.

Satoru leaned forward, his gaze never leaving your face, a playful yet challenging spark in his eyes. “You’re a lot harder to read than I thought.” he murmured, the corner of his mouth curling upward in amusement. “But I like a good mystery.”

You smirked in response, feeling the heat of his stare, knowing he was trying to unravel you with every glance, but determined to keep him guessing. You were sure that soon enough, a pile of discarded clothing would grow between you steadily. But so far, there has been little, with your little ties. All you had removed were little, like a hair tie or a necktie.

You agreed it was still part of clothes. But then again, you just both wanted it to last a little longer. One after the other though was tossed aside with a flick of your wrist or a slow, deliberate grin from him, marking the razor's edge between victory and defeat.

The room little by little crackled with tension, the air thick with challenge and heat, and every turn of a card seemed to bring you closer, like magnets drawn together by an irresistible force. The game had become something more than a little fun thing — it was a dance with a Russian roulette where every bluff was a whispered confession, every raise a daring promise.

Your pulse quickened with every sly smile he threw your way, every calculated tilt of his head, and his eyes bore into yours, gleaming with a hunger that was impossible to ignore. The stakes climbed higher with every move, the line between a win and a loss blurring into something electric, something tantalizingly close to dangerous.

You could feel it in your bones — this was no longer just about cards or luck; it was about who would yield first, who would surrender to the inevitable tension simmering in the space between your bodies. And you like winning. But so did he. Winning was after all, a different sort of drug to be enjoyed.

Neither of you spoke, but the room was filled with a silent conversation, an exchange of glances and gestures that spoke volumes. The game wasn’t just about winning — it was about who could push the other further, who could tease out the truth hidden behind those guarded eyes. Neither of you wanted to lose, not when the real prize was so tantalizingly close. And as another card fell, you knew this was only the beginning.

"You're not bad, doll." he admitted, his shirt still firmly on but with a hint of pink on his cheeks, likely from the alcohol. “But I’ve been known to turn the tables.”

“I wouldn’t have suggested this game if I didn’t think I could win, Satoru.” you replied confidently, leaning forward. The playful spark in your eyes never left, and it only seemed to fuel Satoru’s competitive spirit further.

Round after round, pieces of clothing slowly came off. A shoe here, a sock there. He was still confident, leaning in closer as he laid down another hand. "Full house." he declared, his grin downright wicked now.

You glanced at his cards, then backed up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Nice." you said, sounding impressed, before laying your cards down with a flourish. "Straight flush."

He blinked, then laughed—a genuine, delighted laugh that came from deep in his chest. "No way! You little—"

“Looks like someone’s going to lose a little more than just their pride, Satoru.” you teased, enjoying the way his grin faltered for a moment, his confidence taking a tiny, amusing dip.

He leaned back in his chair, pretending to think deeply, then slowly began to unbutton his shirt. “Alright, alright. I’m a man of my word, doll.” he conceded, though his eyes never left yours, sparkling with mischief. “But don’t get too comfortable. The game’s not over yet.”

As he shrugged out of his shirt, you found yourself momentarily distracted by the unexpected sight—his lean, toned frame catching the dim light. Satoru noticed, his smile turning sly. “See something you like?”

You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral. "Just waiting for my next win."

He laughed again, a sound that seemed to fill the room, light and unburdened. “Oh, this is really crazy. I like that.” he murmured, leaning in closer, his voice dropping slightly. “I like you.”

You raise your glass, meeting his gaze with a bold smile. "The feeling might be mutual, but don't think for a second that means I'm letting you win."

For the first time in a while, Gojo Satoru felt a genuine thrill that had nothing to do with curses or danger. Just the electric spark of a moment, a challenge, and the intriguing mystery of the person sitting across from him, daring him to come closer.

The game continued on, the air thick with anticipation, each round upping the stakes. Satoru was completely absorbed now, his usual nonchalant demeanor replaced with focused intensity. For every card dealt, every sly smile exchanged, he found himself more drawn into this unexpected encounter.

As the rounds progressed, it became increasingly clear that you were holding your own. The playful banter between the two of you had turned into something sharper, more personal. It wasn't just a game anymore; it was a test—a test of wills, of understanding, of reading between the lines of every look and laugh.

Satoru tossed his next set of cards on the table. "Three of a kind." he said, tapping his fingers lightly against the table, eyes flickering with amusement. "Not my best, but not bad."

You looked down at your own hand, considering your options. "Hmm…." you hummed, tapping your chin thoughtfully before placing your cards down. "Four of a kind."

His mouth fell open in exaggerated shock. "No way! You’re cheating!”

You laughed, a carefree sound that seemed to light up the room. "Maybe you just need to step up your game, Gojo Satoru."

He tilted his head, pretending to look hurt, but his smile was as bright as ever. “Oh, I see how it is. You're trying to humble me. I can't let that happen. I have a reputation to uphold.”

He reached for his belt, starting to unbuckle it with deliberate slowness, making a show of every movement. "You really want to play with fire, huh?" he teased, his voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "Careful, you might get burned."

You met his gaze head-on, your smile never wavering. "I think I can handle the heat."

He chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re something else, you know that?” He leaned forward, elbows on the table, close enough that you could feel the faint brush of his energy, his presence suddenly more intense. “But I’ve got a feeling you’re not here just for a game, are you?”

Your eyes sparkled, the corners of your lips curling up just slightly. “Maybe I’m here to see what all the fuss is about. People talk about you, you know… like you’re this untouchable legend.”

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest with a playful smirk. “And what do they say?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think. “Oh, you know… that you’re the strongest, the smartest, the most arrogant—”

“Hey!” he interrupted, laughing. “I’m not that arrogant… just very self-aware.”

You laughed too, feeling the tension between you soften into something warmer, more familiar. “Sure, keep telling yourself that.”

His grin widened. "You think I’m a show-off, huh?”

“I think,” you said slowly, leaning in just a little closer, “that you like being the center of attention. And I think you’re not used to people seeing through that.”

Satoru blinked, the playful glint in his eyes dimming just slightly, replaced by something more genuine, more intrigued. “And what do you see when you look at me?”

You paused, considering your answer, letting the silence stretch just long enough to keep him guessing. “I see someone who likes to keep people at a distance. Someone who hides a lot behind that smile.”

He tilted his head, his expression softer now, almost contemplative. “And you think you know what I’m hiding?”

You shrugged. “Not yet. But I think you might want someone to try and figure it out.”

For a moment, he was quiet, watching you with those piercing blue eyes that seemed to see everything and yet reveal nothing. Then, slowly, he smiled—a softer, more sincere smile than before. “Maybe I do.”

The tension in the room shifted again, this time to something less tangible, a mix of curiosity and possibility hanging in the air between you. The game had become secondary; it was clear now that something deeper was at play. Satoru leaned back, his grin returning, though his eyes were still searching for yours.

“Alright, doll.” he said, voice vibrant and light. “One more hand. Winner takes all.”

“All?” you echoed, arching an eyebrow. “And what exactly is ‘all,’ Satoru?”

He leaned forward again, his smile turning mischievous. “That’s the fun part—we get to decide. Maybe it’s another game. Maybe it’s just a walk under the stars. Or maybe…”

“Maybe?” you prompted, leaning in as well, feeling the pull between you tighten.

“Maybe, doll….” he said softly, his voice almost a whisper now, “it’s just finding out who you really are, and why you make me feel like I’ve met you before, even though I’m sure I haven’t.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected honesty in his words. This was not the Gojo Satoru you’d expected, not quite. But maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something neither of you had anticipated.

“Deal.” you said finally, holding out your hand for him to shake.

He took it, his grip warm and firm. “Deal.”

You felt the warmth of his hand linger longer than necessary, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. Neither of you pulled away, your hands still clasped together, as if testing each other’s resolve.

“Are you trying to distract me?” you teased, but your voice came out softer than you intended, betraying the flutter of anticipation building in your chest.

Satoru’s smile widened, a hint of something darker and more thrilling sparking in his eyes. “Is it working?” he asked, his voice low and velvety, closer now, his breath brushing against your skin.

You held his gaze, feeling the air between you grow thick with tension, the kind that made your pulse quicken. “Maybe a little.” you admitted, and his grin grew even more wicked.

He didn’t release your hand, instead using it to pull you closer across the small table, until you were only inches apart. “Good.” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent a thrill down your spine. “Because I’m curious… What else could I do to distract you?”

Before you could answer, his free hand reached up, his fingers lightly tracing the line of your jaw, his touch gentle but purposeful. “I’ve got a few ideas.” he continued, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, his eyes following the movement like he was memorizing every detail.

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers moved down, tracing the curve of your neck, his touch feather-light but sending sparks of heat through your veins. “You talk a big game,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady, “but can you back it up?”

His eyes flashed with amusement and something else—something darker, hungrier. “Oh, I think you’ll find I’m very good at keeping my promises.” he replied softly, leaning in until his lips were a breath away from yours. “Especially the fun ones.”

And then, without warning, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft at first, almost teasing, before deepening with a sudden intensity that made your head spin. His hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you even closer, and you felt the world around you disappear, leaving just the heat of his mouth, the press of his body against yours.

You kissed him back with equal fervor, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that sent a rush of heat through your body, your skin tingling everywhere he touched.

He broke the kiss, just enough to murmur against your lips, “You’re full of surprises,” before diving back in, his kiss rougher this time, more insistent. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you onto his lap in one swift movement. You gasped against his mouth, feeling the firmness of his body beneath you, the heat of his skin through the fabric of your clothes.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging just hard enough to elicit a low groan from him, a sound that sent a delicious thrill through you. “Satoru.” you breathed, his name slipping from your lips like a secret, and his response was a grin against your mouth, wicked and knowing.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in his chest, his hands roaming up your back, sliding under your shirt, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin that left trails of fire in their wake.

You didn’t answer, just kissed him harder, pressing your body against his, feeling the heat building between you, the tension coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. His lips moved to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you gasp, your head tilting back to give him more access.

He chuckled softly, his breath hot against your neck. “Sensitive, are we?” he teased, but his voice was strained, as if he was barely holding himself back. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips and pressing you down against him, letting you feel exactly how much he wanted you.

You let out a soft moan, your fingers gripping his shoulders for support. “Maybe,” you whispered, your voice breathless. “But I think you like that.”

He laughed, a low, husky sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “Oh, I do,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. “I like everything about you… so far.”

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, seeing the raw desire there, the need that mirrored your own. “Then maybe, Satoru, baby.” you whispered, leaning in to brush your lips against his, “You should stop talking and show me.”

He grinned, a wicked, knowing grin that made your heart race. “Challenge accepted, doll.” he said, and then his lips were on yours again, his kiss consuming, his hands exploring, leaving no part of you untouched, as if he wanted to memorize every inch of you.

You looked at him and grinned. “Let me make you feel good, boy.”

“Make it happen then, lovely.” He steps out of his pants and you sink to your knees on the plush carpet beneath you, licking your lips as he frees his member.. Your eyes meeting him.

You held his gaze, your grin widening as you saw the anticipation flicker in his eyes, a mix of mischief and hunger that mirrored your own. “Oh, I will,baby.” you promised, your voice a low purr that seemed to send a shiver down his spine.

You let your gaze trail down his body, taking in the sight of his lean, toned form before letting your eyes settle on his length, now freed and hard. A spark of excitement danced through you, and you licked your lips, feeling a wave of heat wash over you as you dropped to your knees on the plush carpet, every movement slow and deliberate, keeping his attention locked on you.

Satoru watched you, his breath hitching, and you could feel his intense gaze on you, almost like a physical touch. Your hands reached up, fingertips brushing lightly against his thighs, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palms as you leaned in, your breath ghosting over his length. His eyes widened slightly, a soft exhale escaping his lips, and you could tell he was already on edge, trying to maintain his composure.

You looked up at him through your lashes, meeting his gaze with a wicked grin. “Ready, Satoru?” you teased, your voice soft and sultry, letting the anticipation build for a moment longer.

His eyes darkened, a soft growl escaping him. “Stop teasing, doll.” he muttered, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders, his fingers tightening slightly, betraying his eagerness. “Do your worst.”

Without another word, you leaned in, your tongue flicking out to tease the tip, tasting the salty bead of pre-cum that had formed there. Satoru sucked in a breath, his hips jerking slightly at the contact, and you felt a rush of satisfaction at the effect you were already having on him.

Slowly, you wrapped your lips around him, taking him inch by inch into your mouth, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he filled your mouth completely. His hand moved to your hair, fingers threading through your strands, not pushing, but just holding, grounding himself in the sensation of your warm mouth around him.

You started to move, your mouth sliding up and down his length with slow, deliberate strokes, your tongue swirling around him, adding just enough pressure to draw soft, breathy moans from his lips. You glanced up at him, his head tipped back slightly, his mouth parted as he tried to keep his breathing steady.

“Fuck…..” he breathed, his voice strained, the hand in your hair tightening just a bit. “That’s… you’re good at this…”

You hummed around him, a low, vibrating sound that made his hips twitch, his fingers tightening in your hair. You felt a surge of triumph, your movements becoming bolder, faster, as you took him deeper, letting him feel the heat, the slick slide of your mouth, the way your lips tightened around him.

Satoru’s breathing grew heavier, and you could hear the soft sounds of pleasure escaping his lips, his usual confidence wavering under the intensity of your attention. His hips began to move with you, small thrusts that pushed him deeper into your mouth, and you welcomed it, matching his rhythm, taking him deeper still.

You felt his muscles tense under your hands, heard the low growl building in his throat, his fingers gripping your hair tighter as if he were holding on for dear life. “God… you’re driving me crazy, doll.” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, his control slipping.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to speak, your breath warm against his length. “Good.” you whispered, your voice a husky murmur, “because I’m not stopping until you come undone for me, Satoru.”

He looked down at you, his eyes blazing with need, and you saw a flicker of surrender there, a flash of vulnerability that made your heart race. “Then don’t stop, doll.” he whispered back, his voice a low command. “Make me lose control.”

You grinned up at him before taking him back into your mouth, your movements faster, more deliberate, determined to bring him to the edge and push him over. You felt his body tighten, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his hips thrusting in time with your movements, and you knew he was close.

With a few more strokes, a few more swirls of your tongue, you felt him shudder, his whole body tensing as he let out a low, deep moan, his release hitting hard and fast. His hand tightened in your hair as he rode out the waves of pleasure, his breathing heavy, his eyes closed, his lips parted in a satisfied grin.

You pulled back slowly, watching him as he came down, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his skin flushed, his hair tousled. He opened his eyes, a lazy smile spreading across his face, his gaze soft and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

“Damn.” he breathed, still trying to catch his breath. “You’re… something else.”

You smiled, wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb, feeling a flush of your own. “Told you I’d make you feel good.” you replied, your voice light, teasing.

He chuckled, pulling you up to your feet and closer to him, his hands resting on your hips. “I think you’ve more than proven your point.” he murmured, leaning in to press a soft, lingering kiss against your lips, his smile warm against your mouth. “But now… it’s my turn.”

A soft gasp escapes your lips as his touch moves with a deliberate, tender pressure. The sensation sends ripples of pleasure through you, making your breath hitch. Your back arches instinctively, your body pressing closer to his. Every touch, every movement feels electric, your emotions swirling in a beautiful, overwhelming storm.

His lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Each kiss feels like a spark, igniting a fire that grows with every passing second. His hands glide along your back, pulling you closer still, as if he wants to feel every inch of you against him. Your breath quickens, matching the rhythm of your racing heartbeat.

His gaze meets yours, a mix of tenderness and something deeper, something that makes your heart flutter. “I want to make you feel everything, baby doll.” he whispers, his voice low and filled with promise.

You feel a surge of anticipation, your senses heightened, every touch sending a shiver down your spine. He takes his time, exploring every curve and contour, as if memorizing you. You’re lost in the sensation, in the way he makes you feel cherished, wanted, and entirely his. The world fades away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared intimacy and unspoken connection.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he responds with a soft, satisfied hum, his smile widening against your skin. “Stay with me, ‘toru.” you breathe, the words escaping almost involuntarily, a plea and a declaration all at once.

His hold on you tightens, and he nods, his eyes filled with an emotion so intense it takes your breath away. “Always.” he promises, sealing his vow with another lingering kiss that sends a wave of warmth through your entire being.

His hands roam down your sides with a deliberate slowness, tracing every curve as if savoring the feel of you beneath his fingertips. His touch is both gentle and insistent, a wordless reminder of the connection between you. As his lips move back to yours, the kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, more consuming, his tongue teasing yours in a dance that sets your nerves alight.

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, his warmth enveloping you like a blanket. Every movement is careful yet filled with an undeniable urgency. His fingers slip beneath the fabric of your clothes, his touch sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. Your breaths mingle, becoming heavier, the room thick with the electric charge of your shared desire.

He pulls back just enough to study your face, his gaze intense and filled with a hunger that sends a thrill through you. “You’re so beautiful, doll.” he murmurs, his voice husky with emotion. “Every part of you.” His hands move lower, caressing the sensitive skin of your waist, drawing a soft sigh from your lips.

You could feel the edges of your nails dig deep into Satoru’s back, leaving red marks once after another in the canvas of his supple skin. Each breath comes out in a shaky gasp, and you can feel him shiver beneath your touch, his skin heating under your fingertips. He groans softly at the sensation, the sound vibrating against your lips as he kisses you deeply, hungrily.

“‘Toru…baby….” you gasp out between moans, voice trembling with need. “You feel so good, goddddd…”

Your hips move instinctively against his hand, seeking that delicious friction, chasing the elusive climax that seems tantalizingly close but always just out of reach. You wondered where he has been all your life, where has this pleasure been all your life.

He smiles against your lips, his voice a low whisper, almost teasing. “I’ve got you, doll.” he murmurs, his fingers pressing deeper, moving with a slow, rhythmic intensity that makes you cry out softly. “Let me take you there.”

Satoru’s thumb circles gently, adding a different sensation, his eyes fixed on yours, watching every expression, every shudder of pleasure that passes over your face. His other hand is firm on your waist, guiding your movements, coaxing you closer, pulling you toward that edge with a deliberate slowness that drives you mad.

You feel the tension build inside you, every nerve ignited by his touch, his name spilling from your lips in a breathless whisper. “Satoru… baby....please…” you beg, the need in your voice is unmistakable.

He chuckles softly, his breath hot against your ear. “I love hearing you say my name like that, doll.” he whispers, his touch becoming more insistent, more purposeful. The heat between you grows, every sensation amplified by the intensity of the moment, his pace quickening, matching the desperate rhythm of your heartbeat.

Your body arches toward him, every inch of you attuned to his movements, and you feel yourself spiraling, that sweet ache within you growing sharper, hotter. His fingers find that perfect spot, and suddenly, you’re lost to the wave of pleasure that crashes over you, your body trembling, a moan of pure ecstasy escaping your lips as Gojo holds you close, his name a soft prayer on your lips.

“I’ll eat you out later, doll. I promise.” Satoru whispers against your ear, his voice laced with a playful promise that sends a shiver down your spine. “But right now… I need to be inside you.”

He positions himself between your spread legs, leaning down to tease the head of his member against your hungry, slick folds, rubbing himself gently against you. Each movement is torturously slow, spreading your wetness across both of you, the friction drawing a gasp from your lips. He watches your reactions with a smirk, his bright blue eyes darkened with desire.

Looking up at you, Satoru grins, his expression mischievous and full of intent. “Let’s do something else for now.” he murmurs, his voice low and inviting. He starts to push into you slowly, stretching you inch by inch, his gaze never leaving yours.

The sensation is overwhelming, your body instinctively arching to take him deeper. You can feel every part of him, the way he fills you perfectly, the way your body molds around him. His hands grip your hips, steadying you as he moves further, a low groan escaping his throat. “You feel incredible, baby doll.” he breathes, his voice rough with pleasure, his control hanging by a thread.

Your nails dig even harder into his shoulders as he continues to push in, stretching you, filling you completely. He pauses for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed against yours.

“Are you okay?” he whispers, his breath hot against your lips, his voice softer, seeking reassurance even amidst his own urgency.

You nod, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer. “I’m okay… more than okay, ‘toru.” you murmur, a breathy moan escaping you as he begins to move again, slowly pulling back before thrusting in, setting a rhythm that makes your toes curl.

His pace quickens, each thrust more intense, more deliberate, as if he’s determined to draw every sound, every sigh, from your lips. His name falls from your mouth in a mix of gasps and pleas, and he responds with a low growl, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss.

Satoru’s hands wander, one sliding up to cradle the back of your neck, the other gripping your hip, guiding you into his rhythm. Every movement feels perfectly timed, perfectly in sync, as if he knows exactly what you need, where to touch, how to move to drive you to the brink of ecstasy.

“God, I love the way you feel, doll.” he murmurs, his voice rough and desperate, his forehead pressing against yours as his pace becomes relentless, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through you. Your body tightens around him, drawing him deeper, the heat between you building to a crescendo, and you feel yourself start to unravel.

“Don’t hold back.” he urges, his voice thick with need, his eyes locked on yours. “Let go, doll… I want to feel you come undone.”

And with those words, everything inside you shatters in a wave of pure, overwhelming pleasure. Your body trembles, your breath catches, and you call out his name, your world reduced to the feeling of him moving within you, holding you, as you both reach for that beautiful, shared climax.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶

epilogue

You were exhausted. But you still had a curfew and your mother would be looking for you by now. When Satoru heard that, he immediately jumped up and said he'll take you home.

As you both fumbled to put your clothes back on in the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, Gojo’s mischievous grin didn’t fade for a second. His white shirt was still unbuttoned, hanging off one shoulder, and his pants were inside out — not that he seemed to care.

You tugged your shirt over your head, smoothing down your hair with a breathless laugh. "You look like you got dressed in the dark." you teased, glancing at the ridiculous state of his attire.

Gojo chuckled, leaning in to nuzzle your neck, his lips brushing against your ear. "Well, to be fair, I was a bit distracted by you, doll."

Rolling your eyes, you gave his chest a light push. "Sure, blame me for your lack of coordination."

He winked and, with a dramatic flair, flipped his sunglasses back on, even though it was well past midnight. "Oh, definitely. It’s always your fault when I can't keep my hands to myself."

You both burst into laughter, the absurdity of the situation washing over you. Finally, Gojo took a deep breath, still grinning but with a hint of sincerity creeping into his voice. "So… now that I've seen you at your best — and, uh, at your most undressed — how about a date?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "A date? Like… a normal date?"

He nodded, his expression surprisingly earnest despite the disheveled hair and the inside-out pants. "Yeah, you know, the kind where I take you out, we eat something that isn't each other, maybe even talk about our feelings."

You snorted, trying to stifle your giggles. "You sure you can handle that, Satoru? The whole talking thing sounds like a lot of work for you."

He dramatically clutched his chest as if wounded. "Ouch, doll, that hurt. But yes, I think I could manage… if it means I get to see you smile like that again."

You pretended to consider it for a moment, then shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Fine. But I’m picking the place, and you’re wearing your pants the right way this time."

Gojo laughed, pulling you into his arms. "Deal. As long as you promise to wear something that makes me lose at poker again."

You smirked, leaning in close. "Oh, I think I can arrange that."

And as you both laughed, tangled in each other’s arms, the idea of a "normal" date didn't sound so bad after all.

550 notes · View notes

multifandomficsx · 1 month ago

Text

Nowhere to Hide -- Chapter 8

Summary: The days trudge on and on the fourth day a heat wave washes over Baltimore that pushes you and Hotch over the edge. MINORS DNI!!!!

Content warnings: Strong language, Smut, PinV, oral (giving and receiving), use protection (I mean it)

W.C: 6.5k

Nowhere to Hide Masterlist

CHAPTER 8

That promise kept as the morning sun rose. The first night you have actually gotten some sleep.

Tomorrow came. And the next day. And the next. The only contact was updates from the team, that they had no updates.

The unsub seemed to disappear off the face of the earth, doing exactly what you expected. You were out of sight and he was trying to find you.

There’s no need to perform for someone when they’re not watching you.

Day one was fine, you managed to distract yourself with the dusty books hidden on the shelves.

Day two, cabin fever starts to rear its ugly head. You could have thrown punches at Hotch when he told you to relax. Rage swirled but also a feeling that pulsed in a similar way.

Day three, Paranoia hit. You practically sat catatonic at the window all day, until Hotch pulled you away, forcing you to take a break.

You wake on the fourth day to the thick weight of heat clinging to your skin.

The air inside the cabin that is playing the role of a safe house is suffocating, heavy and unmoving, like a held breath. Sweat beads at your hairline, runs in slow rivulets down your neck, and the thin sheet twisted around your legs feels more like a trap than a cover. In the haze of waking, you faintly remember the weather report from yesterday, a heat wave signaling the end of spring into summer.

You blink up at the wooden beams above you, the ceiling fan still and useless, a limp accusation of power that ran out sometime before dawn. The hum of the small generator that powers the basics—lights, fridge, phone charger—is absent, and that means the fans are gone too.

The silence is too complete.

You swing your legs off the bed and instantly regret it. The floor is warm underfoot, like it’s been baking in the sun even though every curtain in the place is drawn tight. The shadows inside the cabin are long and dim, and when you open your bedroom door, the hallway smells faintly of sweat and wood.

Hotch is already up. Of course he is.

He’s sitting at the small kitchen table, stripped down to a dark gray T-shirt and jeans, sleeves pushed up, collar damp. There’s a glass of water in front of him, sweating almost as much as the two of you. His gun is within reach. His eyes flick to you immediately—sharp, assessing. Concerned, maybe, though he masks it well.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice quieter than usual.

You nod, though it feels like your brain is swimming in molasses. “It’s hot.”

His mouth twitches. Not a smile exactly, more like a grimace shaped into something gentler. “Yeah.”

You both know what the easy answer would be. Open the windows. Let in the breeze, if there is one. But the thought makes your stomach tighten.

You glance toward the front door, where every lock is thrown and the thick curtain remains pinned shut. Beyond it, somewhere in the stretch of forest that surrounds this isolated cabin, someone is waiting. Watching. Hunting.

You don’t know what they look like. Not for sure. But you remember the package left at the precinct. The pictures. The notes. And then the way Hotch’s face looked when he read them—carefully blank, like he was trying not to let you see how bad it really was.

So no, you’re not opening a window. No matter how much the heat presses in, thick and unrelenting.

Hotch pushes the glass toward you without a word.

You sit across from him and take it, drink deeply. The water is lukewarm but still welcome. Your skin itches, sticky with sweat, and your shirt clings to your back. You wonder if there’s anything left in the cabin that isn’t drenched in heat. Including him.

He doesn’t look comfortable either. His hair is slightly damp, and he’s trying not to touch the table with his forearms. You can feel the tension radiating off him—not just from the heat, but from the pressure of stillness, from the watchfulness that’s becoming harder and harder to maintain after days without movement.

“How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?” you ask, softly.

Hotch looks toward the window, not pulling the curtain back, just… listening. Like maybe he can hear the answer in the windless branches outside.

“Until we know it’s safe,” he says.

You nod, and neither of you says the obvious: that might be a while.

The power flickers once, a cruel tease, then dies again. You close your eyes.

And when you open them, Hotch is watching you—not with pity, but with a quiet kind of steadiness. His voice is lower when he speaks again.

“We’ll get through this. One day at a time.”

It’s not a promise he can guarantee, but somehow it still helps. Maybe because he means it. Maybe because, right now, he’s the only thing that makes the heat bearable.

You exhale slowly, take another sip of water, and wait for the next hour to pass.

The phone vibrates on the table between you. Once, then again.

Hotch picks it up instantly. His brows draw together as he reads, then he tilts the screen so you can see.

Garcia: No update yet. Still checking security cameras. I'll keep you posted the second anything moves. Stay low. Stay safe. Miss you both.

You stare at the message longer than you need to. Not because it says anything useful, it doesn’t, but because it says something real. That the outside world still exists. That someone is still looking for answers.

Hotch sets the phone back down. “She’s working nonstop,” he says quietly.

“I know.” You glance toward the curtain-covered window again. The light behind the fabric is brighter now, hotter. The kind of sunlight that feels personal. Like it’s aiming for you.

The day creeps forward with agonizing slowness. Every hour is heavier than the last. The cabin, insulated and sealed for your protection, is quickly becoming an oven. The walls seem to pulse with warmth. Even the shadows are hot.

You peel off your shirt around midday, replacing it with a tank top that feels barely better. The sweat has nowhere to go—it just lingers on your skin, a constant, clinging reminder that you’re trapped.

Hotch eventually takes off his T-shirt, folding it over the back of a chair. He doesn’t comment on it, just moves with the quiet practicality he always has. Still, it’s jarring. You’ve seen him in only suits so seeing him like this, bare-armed, chest rising and falling with slow, measured breaths, is enough to make the room feel even warmer.

He moves to his designated bedroom and grabs a new t-shirt.

You sit in opposite corners of the small living room now, each trying to claim a patch of air that isn’t soaked in body heat. The silence stretches long. The occasional buzz of an insect outside, a creak in the cabin’s old frame, the drip of sweat down your back.

At one point, you shift your legs and feel the cushion beneath you squish, damp from the back of your thighs. You grimace. “This is unbearable.”

Hotch’s mouth twitches again, that half-not-there thing he does when he’s at the edge of discomfort. “It’s the safest place we’ve got.”

You know he’s right. You also know that if someone really wanted to find you, all they’d have to do is follow the stillness. The one cabin without open windows. The one place where nothing stirs in the wind.

“They’ll find something, right?” you ask. You’re not sure if you’re asking about Garcia, the team, or fate in general.

Hotch’s voice is low. “They will. They don’t stop.”

You nod, but the certainty doesn’t land this time. Not fully. Not with how long this has gone on. Not with the heat pressing into your temples, your collarbone, your spine.

You stand and go to refill your water again, avoiding his gaze. The coolest part of the cabin is the kitchen floor, and you lean against the counter, your hand resting on the coldest patch of metal you can find—an old drawer handle, slightly rusted.

Then, another sound.

Not the phone. Not a creak.

Outside.

You freeze. Hotch is already moving—silent, fluid. He grabs his gun from the table and crosses the room, pressing himself against the wall beside the window.

You don’t breathe. You don’t move.

Nothing.

Maybe it was an animal. A branch. Heat-induced paranoia.

Or maybe not.

Hotch lifts two fingers—stay—and inches toward the door, peering through the edge of the curtain without disturbing it.

He stands like that for a long time.

Finally, he lowers the gun slightly and steps back. “I don’t see anything,” he says. “But stay sharp.”

The silence afterward is louder than before. Tighter.

You swallow past the dryness in your throat, your body buzzing with leftover adrenaline and heat. You wipe the sweat from your temples, but it comes right back. The cabin hasn’t cooled. If anything, it’s gotten worse. You think you see heat shimmer near the ceiling.

“Maybe they’re trying to smoke us out,” you say before you can stop yourself. You’re half-joking, half-not.

Hotch gives you a look, unreadable. “They’d be smarter than that.”

The implication that your stalker might be exactly that smart is not reassuring.

You sit again, closer to him this time. Not touching. Just near. There’s nothing else you can do but wait. And sweat. And hope the next vibration on the phone is something more than no update yet.

You last half an hour before cracking.

The bottle of bourbon in the cabinet is meant for emergencies—Hotch said it himself when he stashed it there on day one. Which was a lie, you cracked it open on day one. “In case we’re here longer than we want to be.” You’re well past that point.

You don’t ask. You just retrieve it, twist the cap off with slippery fingers, and pour an inch or two into a glass. No ice, of course. The freezer’s a silent, empty box now. The liquor burns its way down your throat, and you savor the sting, a sharp, clean distraction.

Hotch doesn’t comment, but you feel his eyes on you.

“Want one?” you offer, voice a little too light.

He shakes his head once. “Not while we’re not in the clear.”

Of course. You knew he’d say that. You nod and take another sip, turning towards the window in the kitchen, trying to occupy yourself.

Your tank top clung to the curve of your spine. A single drop of sweat traced a slow path down your neck.

Behind you, the floor creaked.

You didn’t have to turn around to know it was him. Standing at the juncture between the front door and the window next to it. Just watching, but it wasn’t outside he was watching.

You’d felt it for days now, his eyes. The weight of them. The way the atmosphere shifted when he looked at you, like gravity had chosen sides. You swallowed, your fingers tightening around your glass. Still, you didn’t move.

You could feel it, the heat of his stare sliding over your shoulder blades, lingering. You felt small beneath it. Exposed. There's nowhere to hide. Not in a way that scared you, something that made your breath go shallow and your throat dry.

You take another sip.

It doesn’t help much. The heat is still oppressive, still absolute. But the bourbon fuzzes the edges of your panic, dulls the constant flinch in your shoulders. You stretch out a little farther on the couch, letting your head fall back, neck exposed to whatever air might still be moving—though there’s none, really. Just damp, heavy stillness.

You try not to stare. You fail. It’s your turn.

He looks drenched. Sweat soaks the waistband of his jeans, darkening the denim around his hips. His neck glistens in the dim light, the t-shirt sticking to the lines of his torso taut, sharp, streaked with sweat. Even his forearms—strong, steady, scarred—are slick, his veins more pronounced than usual.

He rolls his shoulders like they’re aching. His jaw is tense. Tighter than before.

You wonder if it’s the heat, the tension, or something else entirely.

“Do you ever relax?” you ask, your voice a little huskier than you meant it to be.

Hotch glances at you. The corner of his mouth twitches, not a smile. Not quite. “Not really.”

You smirk, finishing the rest of your glass. The burn hits you again, but this time, you welcome it. Anything to stop you from thinking about how close you are to losing it. How the walls feel like they’re closing in, not from fear now, but from need. From heat. From him.

You set your glass down, slower than you need to. “I think we’re past the point of pretending this isn’t hell.”

Hotch turns to face you fully now. His face is flushed—whether from the heat or something else, you can’t tell. There’s a drop of sweat clinging to his temple, sliding past his jaw. He doesn’t wipe it away.

“We’re still breathing,” he says. “Still alive.”

“Yeah,” you say softly, eyes dragging over him. “But for how long?”

The silence that follows hums between you, electric.

You don’t break eye contact. Neither does he.

And you wonder—just for a second—if the heat might not be the most dangerous thing in this cabin.

You don’t speak again for a while.

The bourbon hums low in your blood, not enough to dull your senses, just enough to make everything feel a little too vivid. The way the air barely moves between you. The slow drip of sweat crawling down your spine. The way Hotch’s chest rises and falls with measured control—as if he’s keeping something in check that you can’t name.

You rise and refill your glass.

This time, when you drink, your eyes linger on him a little longer. You wonder if he notices. You think maybe he does.

“Do you want a glass now?” You ask, your words drawn out and a little slurred.

He hasn’t moved from the wall. He’s positioned like a sentry, one shoulder braced against the wood, watching the sliver of curtain that shields the door. His whole body is tense. Not the kind born from fear—this is something different. Contained. Restrained. Deliberate.

You study the line of his jaw, the vein in his neck, the way his fingers flex slightly where they rest near his holstered weapon.

You know how dangerous he is. That’s never scared you. In fact, right now, it’s grounding.

But you also know that this kind of stillness, that controlled burn he always carries, doesn’t last forever.

Hotch’s eyes flick to you, unreadable. “Probably.”

Your stomach flips. You sip again and make him his drink.

Hotch nods in a thank you type gesture. “Get comfortable.” He says taking a sharp swig of his drink, finishing it in one go. Something about that was insanely hot to you, watching him swallow.

You avert your eyes and look around the sweltering cabin, where every breath feels like it sticks to your lungs. “Comfortable isn't really on the table.”

Hotch’s mouth curves, faintly, like he’s about to tell a joke. “Exactly.”

You walk to a chair but find yourself too restless to sit. The liquor has made you bold, or reckless, or maybe just tired of pretending that this is normal. You cross the room slowly, feeling every inch of sweat-slick skin under your tank top and shorts. You stop just a foot away from him, close enough to see the way his pupils have darkened slightly.

The silence stretches again—thicker now.

“Why aren’t you cracking?” you ask, tilting your head, frustrated. Bothered. “You’re just as hot. Just as trapped. Just as hunted.”

Hotch’s jaw tightens. He looks down at you, his voice quiet but firm. “Because I can’t afford to.”

You nod slowly. “Because of me.”

He doesn’t confirm it. He doesn’t need to.

The space between you feels charged. Unsteady.

You can smell him now—clean sweat and faded soap and something else, something warm and familiar that makes your heart beat faster in your chest.

You take another slow step forward. You’re almost close enough to touch him.

Hotch doesn’t move. Doesn’t retreat. But his hand flexes at his side again.

You wonder how long it’s been since he’s let himself want something.

You wonder if he wants it now.

The bourbon is warm in your veins. The heat is a living thing against your skin. And the only cool spot in this entire suffocating cabin is the one you haven’t dared reach for yet—him.

You meet his eyes and say, “You’re sweating through your jeans.”

Hotch’s breath hitches, just a little. Barely enough to catch. But you see it.

The tension doesn’t break. It tightens.

And suddenly, the question isn’t if it will snap—it’s when.

The air between you feels like static. Alive. Ready to catch.

You’re so close now that you can see the way a drop of sweat slides down from Hotch’s temple, tracing the line of his jaw. It hangs at the edge of his chin for a heartbeat before falling, disappearing against his collarbone.

He still hasn’t stepped back. Hasn’t said a word.

Neither have you.

You lift your glass slowly, not to drink, but just to do something with your hands. It hovers near your mouth. You’re not even sure what you’re thinking anymore. You just know that your nerves are shot and your heart is pounding and the heat is pressing against your skin like a demand.

“I can’t tell if this is cabin fever,” you say, voice soft, “or if it’s just you.”

Hotch exhales—sharp, almost like a laugh, except there’s nothing light in it. His gaze finally drops—down your face, your throat, the line of your collarbone where your tank top sticks to your skin.

“I’ve been trying not to think about it,” he murmurs.

“Trying,” you echo. “So you are thinking about it.”

His jaw works once. Then he nods. Barely. “I’m human.”

You swallow, hard. The silence stretches again, a fragile thread strung tight between the two of you.

You lower your glass. “So am I.”

You see it happen before it does.

His restraint wavers—not enough to make him move, but enough to see it. The way his body shifts toward you instinctively. The way his fingers twitch at his side, like they’re aching to reach out.

And maybe it’s the heat. Or the bourbon. Or maybe it’s just the fact that you’ve both been locked in this place for too long, breathing the same stifling air, afraid to open a door, afraid to want anything.

But you step in closer.

Close enough that your chest nearly brushes his. Close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him like it wants to brand you.

“You don’t have to hold it together for everyone,” you say, voice just above a whisper. “Not all the time.”

His breath is shallow now. Controlled, but barely. His hand lifts slowly—just a few inches—and then curls into a fist like he’s stopping himself at the last second.

“I don’t want to cross a line,” he says tightly.

You don’t look away. “What if I do?”

Something cracks then. You can feel it.

He steps into you, fast—his hand at your waist, warm and firm, but not rough. His other palm finds the side of your face, thumb brushing your cheek, leaving behind the heat of his skin and the weight of everything he’s been holding back. His mouth doesn’t meet yours yet—but it’s close. So close.

“This doesn’t leave the cabin,” he murmurs, eyes searching yours. “You say stop, I stop. No questions.”

You nod once, and it’s the only permission he needs.

The kiss hits hard—more pressure than finesse, more desperation than form. His mouth is warm, insistent, and you feel his body finally relax against yours as he lets go of every ounce of careful distance he’s kept for days.

You gasp against his mouth as his hands move, not rough, but purposeful, grounding. His skin is hot against yours, and you can taste the heat, the bourbon, the weight of everything neither of you could say out loud until now.

Outside, the sun is still burning. The stalker is still out there. The world is still dangerous.

But at this moment, inside this too-hot cabin, the danger isn’t out there.

It’s here.

And you’ve finally stepped into it.

Aaron looks at you, really looks at you, eyes roaming over your legs and your hips and your chest and your mouth, all the places he hadn’t allowed himself to notice until now. The distance between you closes much more easily, much more quickly, this time. “Never thought we’d do this,” he murmurs, and then corrects himself, “Never thought you’d want me to.” Your laugh is soft. Disbelieving. You meet his eyes and lean up towards him, “That’s because you’re stupid. You really haven’t noticed?”, and the words dissolve into his mouth as you kiss him– or maybe he kisses you, or maybe a little of both. It doesn’t matter, anyway, and you don’t care.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on yours. There’s something about the way you glow in the warm dim lighting of this sweltering house that has him entranced. The words come out as a whisper. “ Of course I have.” He frames your face with his hands and slants his mouth over yours and deepens the kiss, his tongue parting your lips and pushing in and scraping over your teeth, across the roof of your mouth– You taste exactly how he imagined, exactly how he thought you would, sweet like chapstick and strawberries and whiskey and so fucking perfect that for a moment he’s left wondering if this is even real.

Aaron’s hand moves down from your face to the curve of your waist, fingers digging in, and he’s urging you closer until your body is pressed up so close to his that you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, the rapid rise-and-fall of his breathing as he keeps kissing you. Your hand wraps around the back of his neck and your teeth scrape over his bottom lip, half-smiling against his mouth when he makes a sound almost like a grunt and kneads your hips, yanking you closer, causing a yelp to escape your lips. He moves one hand up under your sweat damp tank top, skin burning, finally able to touch. Your skin is soft and warm under his calloused hands and when he drags his thumb across your nipple through the sheer fabric of your bra you make a noise akin to a sigh, or maybe a moan, shallow and soft. It’s still not good enough. You want him to touch you everywhere.

Hotch’s hand finds the small of your back and pulls you in until your bodies are flush. Your skin meets his—fever-warm and damp with sweat, the slide of heat-on-heat that makes you gasp against his mouth. He swallows the sound like he’s starved for it.

You clutch at his shoulders, his back, fingers sliding against slick skin as he backs you toward the wall. Each step is slow, deliberate—measured only in how close he can bring you, how much he can feel.

The wood behind you is warm. His chest is warmer.

When his mouth leaves yours, it travels down—along your jaw, the side of your neck. You tilt your head without thinking, giving him space, your breath catching as his lips graze sweat-damp skin and linger just under your ear. The heat there has nothing to do with the weather. It’s the tension finally snapping loose.

You can feel him trying to stay in control. His breathing is tight. His movements precise.

But then your hands slip down his chest, tracing the heat-glossed muscles through his damp shirt, and he groans—quiet, deep, like he didn’t mean to let it out.

“Tell me if this is too much,” he mutters, voice rough against your throat.

“It’s not enough,” you whisper back.

That does it.

Aaron yanks your tank top off, fabric clinging stubbornly to your skin. His hands fumbles with the clasp of your bra for a moment before discarding that, too. You’re beautiful, and he had known that, but it’s not the same– not when it’s like this, when he can so easily reach out and touch, and maybe he stares for a second or more than a second– Which causes you to shrink into yourself a little.

“Say something. Please…” You half whisper, half whine out, desperate for him to touch you in ways no one has in a while. “You’re beautiful” he whispers, a little more frantic than intended, and almost immediately his mouth descends over the soft column of your throat and then down to your collarbones, your breasts, kissing and biting every inch of skin he can reach with a sort of reverence he hadn’t known he was capable of. You lean into the feeling of his mouth, gasps out his name in a breathless, needy way that hits him hard, makes his cock ache in the rough confines of his jeans as he sucks a bruise into your skin where your shoulder meets your neck– half because he wants to and half because it’s proof that this is real. In the back of his mind, he thinks of all the ways he could talk himself out of this, all the countless reasons why he shouldn’t let this get any worse or any more permanent, but he finds that he doesn’t care. You kiss him and you tug him closer, a low groan vibrating somewhere in his throat at how effortlessly your body fits against his. You're the one who pulls him towards the bed. “Come on, Aaron,” you say, and it’s probably supposed to sound teasing, sarcastic, defiant, even, but mostly it just sounds breathless. There’s a bruise blossoming on your neck and your mouth is swollen and red, and Aaron stops and stares. “Fuck,” he bites out, the noise low and unsurprisingly aggressive. He hears the rustle of the comforter against the mattress as you move onto it, and he follows the sound, and then easily pushes your legs apart at the edge of the bed to take the space between them. You grab the fabric of his sweat drenched shirt and you drag him down into another kiss, the movement of your mouth against his mirroring the slow, languid roll of your hips against the mattress trying to find any kind of friction for the heat pooling below the surface. “Take your clothes off, I wanna see you” you mutter into his mouth, half demanding, he bites your bottom lip just hard enough to make you gasp against him, relishing in how you react to him, honest and real in a way he hadn’t expected.

He complies with your demand, taking off the shirt that he mentality cursed at himself for still wearing despite how hot it had gotten.

Your shorts are off too before he even has time to think about what he’s doing, and then your underwear too, in a messy, haphazard pile of clothing on the floor, and he’s looking at you and you’re staring right back, his shoulders, biceps, the lines that disappear into his jeans. Your mouth parted as you wondered what was waiting for you right below-

His breathing is ragged. Your pulse is thundering. The air is thick with something that feels like static electricity, sharp and heavy, like in the moments before a storm. His eyes rake up your body almost of their own volition, taking in the swell of your breasts and the curve of your stomach and then trailing down, down– “Aaron,” you mutter, squirming under the heat of his gaze, and any hint of defiance is gone at this point, replaced by pent-up, repressed longing, and it suddenly clicks that this entire fucking thing had never been one-sided. It had never just been you, he had watched and waited and wanted you too, and– “(Y/N),” he rasps, not sure if he had even meant to say it out loud, and then he’s fumbling with the zipper on his jeans, and closing the space between you with a newfound desperation.

He practically picks you up and moves you further onto the bed, him following suit, crawling on top of you. You lean up and meet him halfway, and the kiss is frantic and messy and perfect. His weight pins you down to the bed and your desire is all-consuming, white-hot in the pit of your stomach as he rocks up against you, the friction making you both groan. It’s the first time in a long time that he’s wanted something this badly, and the feeling of your bare skin is like a fucking drug. His hand slips down your stomach, moves in between your thighs. His fingers are slick against your skin and when he finally touches you were you need it, you choke out a soft, trembling moan, and he realizes distantly that he’s so fucking hard it hurts– “More, please,” you whisper, a little desperately, rocking your hips up into his hand, looking for friction, and his breath just falters, the arm supporting his weight on the bed is trembling and he can’t think of anything he wants more in this moment than you.

“You’ll get it, be patient, pretty girl,” he groans, pressing a finger inside of you and curling it up, and your answering moan is needy and helpless and when he starts to fuck you with his fingers you melt underneath him in the best way– “Stop fucking– teasing,” you say, trying to sound irritated but failing miserably as your voice wavers and dissolves into a moan. Aaron exhales shakily. He stops touching you. A pathetic whine escapes your lips at the loss of touch. But then he moves, not depriving you for long as his mouth makes contact with your messy cunt. You suck in a labored breath as his tongue circles your clit.

You try to call out to him but the words escape your lips. You’re reduced to a trembling mess as your hands find their grip in his hair. He eats like a man starved, sucking and licking on the most sensitive parts like it was his last meal on earth. His fingers found their way back inside you and it’s all too much.

Your hips stutter and buck, his other arm drapes itself across the top of you holding you in place, making you take everything he gives you.

“Aaron, I- Im gonna… fuck-”

“ Then cum.” He says, the vibrations of his words on you send you over the edge, your back arches off the mattress in a way that’s almost painful and you finish.

You’re both aware of it, he knows, his cock pressed up against the inside of your thigh, hot and hard and insistent inside of his jeans. Then you rock your hips up against him and he groans, the sound frantic, desperate, dragging you into a kiss–

Your hands travel down his back to where his jeans meet his hips and start pushing them down. He immediately stands, you follow him to sit on the edge of the bed. You find your way back to the jeans and the briefs beneath them. Taking them off slowly, taking your time.

His cock springs free and fuck it’s bigger than you thought. Your hand wraps around and pumps slowly. Hotch sucks in a breath through gritted teeth as his head rolls back ever so slightly.

His hand grips the back of your hair as you lean forward, licking a stripe up from the base to the tip. His eyes meet yours, staring up at him through your lashes.

You open your mouth and take in the tip. You hum and relax your jaw as he guides you further down his shaft. He fills your throat as you place a hand on his thigh for support. He lets you take the lead on this, just gentle pressure on the back of your head as you bobbed and swirled your tongue.

The suffocating cabin filled with little gagging noises as his cock hit the back of your throat. Aaron groans out a curse as you pick up your pace. Your gaze remains set on him, watching his eyes shut and reopen to make sure he doesn’t miss anything. His breath grows ragged and uneven. He’s close.

“Damn sweetheart, that's enough.” He practically begs and you peel yourself away from him.

He pushes you back onto the bed, him following suit on top of you. His lips back on you leaving no time for you to catch your breath.

“ You’ve been driving me insane,” He mutters between kisses. “It’s unfair what you’ve been doing to me.”

A moan escapes you upon hearing his words. Or was it him lining his cock up at your folds.

He runs it up and down, the tip hitting your clit on every pass through.

“Aaron-” A meek attempt to push him.

“Ask for it.” He says his thumb drawing lazy circles around your clit.

Your body pulses at the new contact, lost for words, fumbling at forming a sentence.

“ Ask for it.” He says again, stronger in his statement.

“Aaron… please, I need it. I need you.” You manage you get out in gasps.

He thrusts into you in one fluid motion. “Ah– fuck,” he groans, against your open, waiting mouth, eyes closed and face tense and the muscles in his arms and upper back strung taut, tense with the effort of holding himself still. There’s a moment of silence– a moment of stillness– that’s strangely intimate, warm and familiar and right, his breathing unsteady against your neck as he struggles to hold on to the quickly-fading remains of his self-control. Aaron moves slowly. Your answering moan is soft and the warmth of your combined body heat is heady and suffocating–sweat beads on his forehead and your breath ghosts hot across his collarbones as he moves and as you roll your hips up to meet him. His forehead is pressed against yours, noses bumping, as he kisses you, open-mouthed and messy, catching your gasp and his answering groan as you tighten around him, hot and wet and perfect. The way you drag your palms down his chest and across the wide expanse of his shoulders is desperate, almost like your looking for something to hold on to as he thrusts in a little harder, watches, seemingly entranced, as his cock moves, in down to the base until your hips are pressed together and then back again. “ Aaron ,” you moan, biting on his lip, making his rhythm stutter, and make his hips snap forward hard, and whatever he was going to say in response is replaced with a desperate, needy growl at the way you moan with the rock of his body.

A shiver trembles down your spine, liquid and involuntary, and he can feel the way your muscles tighten around his cock, can hear the creaking of the bedsprings and the sharp sounds of his own breathing and nothing else really seems to matter except what’s happening right then.

You don’t care about anything except the way his body feels against yours or the way he seems to fill you up perfectly. He snaps his hips forwards and you tremble, he watches your mouth part for a gasp and how you never stop looking at him, not even for a second. “I– fuck, fuck, I’m–” you gasp, tripping over the words, a little desperate and a lot frantic as you grind up against him, one hand tangled in his hair and the other somewhere on the expanse of his shoulder, reaching for purchase, something to hold on to– He’s acutely aware of your body pressed up against his own, slick with sweat and incredibly fucking warm, your face buried in his shoulder and your breath hot against his skin and your body soft and pliant and perfect underneath him. Everything about this is driving the both of you fucking crazy, that it’s hard to focus, that everything else is a colorless, meaningless blur in the background and all you can see is each other, back arching and muscles tensing and calling out each others name. You tremble and tighten around him and finally reach the second release building in you. The moan you release is wonderfully helpless and whatever remaining scraps of decorum he had left just fucking dissolve. His thrusts become erratic, his rhythm falters and he realizes, distantly, that he’s not going to last much longer as you rock against him until he can barely think straight. “(Y/N),” he mutters, and chokes out a curse, buries his face in your shoulder and relishes in it, in the closeness and the shared body heat and the feeling of being here, with you, like this, until his body falters and his weight comes down onto his forearms and his orgasm is wrenched through him like a fucking revelation. And then it’s over. He doesn’t move for a long moment. You don't make him. Nothing seems to matter anymore except the warmth of where your bodies are still joined, the sound of your combined breathing, and the ache of the emotions you had unleashed on one another. It’s a brief moment of peace for you, and you think he must feel the same. “You can get off of me now,” You complain, softly. Breathlessly. Your normal personality shining back through. Aaron huffs out a laugh, deep and warm, and moves away. He hesitates, only for a second, before pulling you to his bare chest with his hand curled over your hip. The silence isn’t as suffocating as you expected. It’s almost– comfortable. “Dumbass,” you say. There’s an honest sort of affection in your voice, as you throw an arm over his chest and bury your face in the crook of his neck. ��Shut up,” he mumbles, sleepy and sated and not really meaning it at all.

There was no more room for doubt, no room for distance anymore. Just two people, finally giving in to what has been brewing for almost two weeks.

And in the heat of the safe house, you knew: nothing could remain the same that next morning.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fanfic #hotch x reader #criminal minds fic #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x you #hotch smut #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner series

68 notes · View notes

jimmy-johns5382 · 5 months ago

Note

Hihi!! Do you think you could maybe do father figure tim wright reacting to his kid (reader) sneaking out? :> Thank u! ^^

MORE ANGST??? MORE DAD ANGST???

cooking up something devious rn >:)

Idk what to Title this :)

Walking alongside the beat up pavement, you slowly dragged yourself toward the inevitable. Tim had texted you a few hours ago, asking where you had been. After you saw the notification on your Lock Screen, you knew that you were done for.

It had been a quiet evening in the small cabin. Toby and Brian were out and about, some random last minute mission. Kate was currently away at another mission, while Cody had locked himself away to work on a science project. You, bored out of your skull, had only been mindlessly scrolling through social media when you decided to leave.

Thinking a little, you knew that Tim wouldn’t want you leaving this late (unless it would have been work related). So, you took to being a normal and reckless teen, opening your window and jumping down, running off into the woods.

That was three hours ago.

You had been laying on a rock, looking up at the star, mapping out the galaxy in your mind. The constellations captivated your mind, allowing their stories to play out in dramatic scenes. You smiled, taking notice of the brightly lit North Star, remembering how it had saved you on many occasions.

A loud ‘buzz’ had knocked you out of your daze, glancing down at the phone to see a message from Tim. Without even reading it, you knew you were screwed. Something just screamed at you, telling you that he knew you had snuck out and would be in loads of trouble.

Picking up the device, you unlocked it and looked at the message. ‘Get home. Now.’ It was simple and too the point. Letting out a sigh, you took one look back up at the stars before making your way back to the cabin.

That brings us to the present, standing in front of the dimly lit run down cabin. From the outside, it didn’t even look inhabitable. Walking up the stairs, each one creaking under your weight, you grabbing your key. Unlocking the door and turning the knob, you took a few breathes, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the lecture.

Pushing open the heavy door, you could see Tim sitting out the kitchen island, his face hidden in shadows. You swiftly entered and shut the door behind, locking it and straightening your posture.

“Uhh…hey,” you murmured. Was he angry? Upset? Worried? The shadows cast down on Tim made it impossible to even see his face.

“Where’d you go?” The southern drawl to his voice ever apparent as you shuddered. He was so serious!

“Just for a walk,” I responded, slinking up to the island and grabbing a glass out of the cupboard. “Wanted to get out, clear my head,” you stated as you filled the cup with water.

“Listen, I’m not going to lecture you,” your eyes widened slightly at his response, “but please, you have got to tell someone when you leave.”

“Huh?” You tilted your head to the side, earning a sigh from him. He rubbed his hands over his face, massaging the area around his eyes.

“Just…tell someone where you’re going, ok? I understand that you…you aren’t a little kid anyone,” the words were quiet and soft, uncharacteristic from the normal gruff tone.

“Yeah, I’m basically an adult,” you giggled, walking over and resting on the counter.

“Not to me, to me…you’re a kid,” Tim looked up at you, a tired look in his eyes. “I can’t control you, what you do, say, think. You’re getting older, and I have to accept that,” he sounded almost heartbroken. A soft smile made its way to your face as you looked at Tim, seeing his glaze casted downward.

“You’re a kid to me, always will be,” he said, referring to how young you were when you first met. You really weren’t that young, only 14. But that had been so long ago, it felt like a lifetime.

“I might not always be your little girl who you get to show how to use a gun,” you smiled, looking at the water in your glass, “but, I’ll always be your kid. Blood or not, you’re stuck with me.”

Tim laughed, rolling his eyes at you. He didn’t want to get rid of you, and he’d kill anyone who tried to take you from the little family in the woods.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #ticci toby #ben drowned #eyeless jack #jane the killer #jeff the killer #nina the killer #creepypasta x reader #plantonic tim/masky #plantonic creepypasta

44 notes · View notes

typingatlightspeed · 7 months ago

Note

For the requests, how about something with vampire heavy? Maybe heavymedic, chefs choice though! Such a great cosmetic set.. <33

TF2 Fanfic - Appetites

Ludwig has heard legend of a secluded log mansion in the mountains of Siberia, and its occupant: a creature of the night that seeks men for both carnal delights and bloody meals. He shares only one of those appetites, but perhaps that can change.

Ao3 Link!

Had fun with this one. Love making Medic the one less fluent with the language they're speaking for once. :3 Enjoy!

---------

The structure itself was a building unlike anything Ludwig had ever seen. It was massive and elaborate, a manor house or mansion, but built of logs rather than stone, rustic yet grandiose, sitting hidden in the forested mountains of Siberia. The winds whipped in every direction, and as night fell, he tried to ignore the doubts rising in his gut as he trudged through the snow, clutching his coat close as he approached the darkened structure, no candles in its windows to welcome weary travelers, no warm glow inside to illuminate it for its occupants.

Were there really still any occupants to be found?

The place looked almost abandoned, its grounds unkempt, no footsteps leading to its door. Though as the snow fell and wind howled, Ludwig doubted any footprints would remain long anyway. He hazarded a glance behind him to confirm that his own tracks were being swiftly erased by the elements. He was not just alone, but isolated, with no way to find him save the knowledge of where he was headed.

He swallowed hard and kept trudging.

The locals in the village down the mountain had called him a madman when he asked about the place. Doubly so when he denied being there to exorcise the malevolence that dwelt there.

He didn't need their approval; fools.

The gate was unlocked, and swung open sluggishly, its hinges rimed near-solid and stubborn. He worried he may break the thing off if he pushed too hard, barely slipping his large frame through the opening and continuing on. The front door of the manor was large and dark, ornately carved by skilled hands. He was startled to find it, also, unlocked.

If the manner of creature that local legend spoke of lived here, it was surely not bothered by notions of security. The likelihood of someone braving the elements to stumble into this abode was slim, the chance of them surviving the trek just as narrow.

Ludwig closed the door behind himself, startled to find the interior comfortably warm compared to the harsh outdoors. Whether that was merely a symptom of not being buffeted by wind and snow or the presence of a hearth lit somewhere, he couldn't tell, but as he shook the snow from himself, he deigned to shed his scarf and hat, regardless, setting them on a small table beside the door.

The interior of the building was no less impressive than its exterior, a large foyer opening before him with stuffed bears, ermines, and wolves lining its walls amid other objets d'art. Under the balcony, a line of sconces were lit, leading down a hallway deeper into the structure, a long, crimson carpet showing the way. Taking a deep gulp, Ludwig followed the lights.

His footsteps felt unreasonably loud to him, soft creaking on hardwood as he slowly crept through the home, into a great hall lined with paintings, pottery, and weapons of war. Every sound seemed to echo off of the walls, up to the high, vaulted ceiling, and it made him feel deeply exposed.

Especially when it became clear that he wasn't alone.

"It's been a very long time since I've had a trespasser," a man's voice rumbled, warm and throaty.

Ludwig couldn't identify where it had come from, looking up and about to try and locate its source. He froze in place, trying to remember the rudimentary Russian he'd learned over the years. "Door was not locked."

A soft chuckle answered him. "So it was. You must have great purpose, braving the mountain to enter into my home. What manner of man are you, trespasser?"

Ludwig drew himself up, his spine straightening, his pride bubbling up to try and overcome the terror that was trying to take hold at the back of his mind. This was what he was here for. He was not about to run scared upon getting exactly what he wanted. "I am man of science."

"A man of science?" the voice repeated, amused. "This is certainly a change. Normally I'm forced to receive men of God, here to try and mete out His divine punishment."

"Divine punishment?" Ludwig asked, wishing his skill with the language were stronger. This lurking mystery man spoke so articulately that it took him an embarrassingly long time to recall his vocabulary so that he could formulate a response. He knew the words, but putting them together was proving difficult, and made him wish he had practiced speaking to locals more before making his ascent.

"So many previous callers of mine have come to exterminate me for the crime of merely having appetites their church finds... aberrant. Tell me, trespasser. Would you judge your host thusly?"

" I have no love for church." Ludwig felt a shiver run up his spine, and he wasn't sure if it was the cold, fear of the unknown, or fear of giving his next thoughts voice. "They would kill me for my appetites, as well."

"Oh? Do tell me, trespasser. What dark appetites would they pursue you for?"

"The touch of men."

Ludwig snapped to attention as a pressure alighted upon the small of his back, and it took a moment for him to register it as a large, broad hand, as there was no warmth to it to seep through his coat. Before he could react, another massive hand upon his chest tilted him backward, supported by the hand on his back as he found himself gazing up into eyes of the palest glacial blue he'd ever seen.

Their bearer was no less enthralling, a massive man with a strong jaw and an aquiline nose, larger even than Ludwig's impressive frame, and tilting him into his arms like it was no effort at all. He wore the clothes of a man of nobility, or at least refined taste, and no warmth bled from his body as it pressed against his guest's.

"It appears that is one appetite that you and I hold in common, my dear trespasser."

Ludwig couldn't bring himself to respond, words dying before they could even reach his throat and tongue. He was unsure whether its source was some mesmerizing power of his host's icy gaze, or the force of the sudden lust that had overcome him in an instant at being manhandled by this giant so easily, as though his tall, sturdy frame were nothing but a ragdoll.

"But that isn't the appetite that has clergymen skulking at my door."

As he spoke, Ludwig could see them; fangs. His canine teeth were long, sharp, and he found himself staring at them rather than his host's eyes. He felt his pulse pounding through his veins, and a yearning in his body the potency of which he had never felt before.

This was why he was here.

"And the one that does?"

"I think you already know, my dear trespasser."

"And?"

"And I would slake both with your body, by your leave."

"For eternity?"

The vampire grinned, tilting in to press a kiss atop the artery in Ludwig's neck. "Til death do we part."

#Lightspeed Replies #Anonymous #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfiction #tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #vampire!Heavy

15 notes · View notes

p0ck3tp03t · 10 months ago

Text

Rampant Thoughts 60.

Nothing desired. Everything lost.

Someone told me to think of three things I want from my life and aside from peace nothing really came to mind. There are many things I can say I desire and want and covet but they are all superficial in nature. Material things are amongst the many and most popular of choices but they ultimately have no value across the passing of time. I realize that these desires are mere distractions from boredom and futility. They are goals to which I strive subconsciously in order to give my mind something to aim for and remain attached to this world.

Despite wanting so many things I do nothing to obtain them as I knowingly postpone acquiring them for the simple fact of giving myself something to think about to distract myself from the reality which speaks the truth. I will never stop feeling shattered and defective, regardless of how much time passes and thus I bury the thought with thoughts of the superficial. I abscond from the scene of reality where everything around reminds me of how things could have been but are not, how things should be but are not and in order to become capable of enduring reality I side with defiance, betray the status-quo and refuse to walk as instinct dictates.

Scars begin to ache at the idea of repeating history as I mirror myself in the skin of a coward, much too afraid of having to suffer yet again from the cold touch of indifference.

Life continues to pursue its end, relentlessly pushing me through each day without much choice in the matter. Freedom to do as I wish with the time given belongs to me and despite calling it freedom I have shackled myself with the chains of solitude, choosing a life lived in death. Not lonely but alone, my reality has turned quiet, deaf to the calls of love or belonging, numb to the desire of another and their flesh embracing mine. To share the life one has with another is a choice born from instinct, barren of reason as desire and thirst take control of the mind, making it blind to the madness one is inviting into life.

Ignited by such flames, souls begin to burn together fueled by hope of a long life alongside the one that became their spark. Living on the edge between Hell and Heaven, souls balance a world of their own making, exerting themselves with sacrifice in hand for the sake of keeping love alive and thriving. The task proves onerous, as I myself am one of the many whom failed at said task thus I know firsthand the bitter taste that comes with having to extinguish a flame one believed would last an apparent eternity.

A choice had to be made in the wake of such tragedy and in spite of wishing with desperation that things were not as they were, reality was to be accepted and learned from. The lesson that I chose to learn from this play written by life was that freedom and peace are what give me life and alongside them, none other shall be needed. The hunger and thirst that once guided my choices are now kept tamed by the absence of a catalyst, a flame that would bring the risk of reigniting what was once buried under waves of tears, lakes of regret and rivers of frustration. I shall remain hidden, a child locked in his room, a rebel against the passing of time with the sole purpose of pleasing my own selfish desires for freedom, peace and silence.

I know I am lying to myself. Eternity is a lie and as much as I behave as if I will live forever, it simply isn't possible but maybe that is why I chose the choice I have made. Eventually, I shall become unwanted as the ones that gave me life will leave this plain of existence and this dreadful thought, even if only a possibility still, gives me death even if still a lie. I aim to use the time given by solitude to build an eternity alongside them so that when I will no longer be able to, I will maybe have no regrets of not having done so. No amount of time will suffice, that is certain, but I am hoping that however much time I get to spend with and alongside them will breed contentment and not regret when found at the doorstep of tragedy. I am hopeful that such moment is still far away for I do not believe I have given them enough of my time and thus I wish to be selfish for a little while longer. I am resolute in my path and nothing shall deter me from it.

I shall abstain from any form of distraction which would rob me of my time and implicitly theirs, for now I wish to give them everything I have with every occasion. An unspoken vow declared to a love lost that if we were to end I shall not love anyone else for I will not find myself capable of loving another as much. Bruised and scarred, melancholy is bitter for the things that I miss no longer value anything for anyone other than me and holding on to them is plain stupidity. I want nothing anymore from anyone other than them because them, I can trust whilst the risk is too high to trust another stranger with my time, my heart and my life.

A gaze from afar shall be all I need in order to keep myself satisfied as not anymore shall a stranger rob me of the things that give me life, for none shall reach as I shall not allow them the time to crawl under my skin and touch my heart. Poetic as it may seem, I know that I am setting myself up for misery in the far future when youth shall be nothing but a fleeting memory of a once free man. No longer will I be free as I will see myself shackled by a body stricken by decay and a mind broken beyond repair. I think of that now and I attempt to remain ignorant to the matter for I wish to put my energy towards the values in which I believe and in the newfound freedom that has been retrieved. Woman and man should simply lust but never attach to each other but none listen for they fear the same thing I am trying to confront, solitude and loneliness in moments when life will be old and their strength will be withering.

Misery awaits alongside decay and though that moment seems far now, one day it shall be recalled as a mere blink. A love never forgotten, a heart always numb, a time gifted and memories to travel to are all things that shall map my life and tell my story as it nears its end.

By:PocketPoet

#writing #prose #pocketpoet

0 notes

final-boy · 2 years ago

Text

Okay sorry being insane about this again cuz im stuck on the angsty portion of it cuz i think its the most interesting part but Reader desperately trying to get Danny to remember their past hiwever they can, trying ro get him to understand that they know one another and that they care for eachother,,but those memories are just so tucked away right now thay it feels impossible to ever get them back,,,

Reader slowly coming to the realization that they too are starting to forget the finer details of everything and the few things that clear/semi-clear is just the knowledge of the killings that happenes back in their hometown and the fear of it all,,,they reach a point where they cant quite remember what Danny looked like, much less what he sounds like without the voice modulator...

Omg okay bear with me for a second but Ghostface x Reader where they were together pre-Entity with Reader being brought into the realm much later than Danny was for whatever reason,, they assume Danny had just up and left without them and during their first trial, they realize THIS is where Dannys been the whole time and rush off to find him

Angsty Bonus Points edition if when they DO finally find Ghostface , he doesn't remember them,,not because he didnt care to/Reader wasnt important but because the Entity wiped those memories away so to him, Readers just another survivor to gut 😛

#ghostface x reader #danny johnson x reader #dbd x reader #tbh i dont pay TOO much attention to post-entity canon cuz i think all the fun happens pre-entity #but like you can do so much in her realm anyways....#the killers locations acting as both a hunting grounds home AND a way to lock memories the entity seems as unimportant /unnecessary away #and its locked and hidden and maybe if someone where to REALLY push they would be able to open up and/or find those things hidden away...#dannys being hidden in a blackroom in ploaroids and case filrs and storage boxes #collecting dust and seemingly unimportant #personally im a big fan of Danny genuinely loving or caring about reader in some way #but still being DANNY yknow like i dont wanna water hus character down hes still a fucking serial killer but also he goes home and #helps you with the laundry and washing the dishes bwadwrsvaf #and Reader as someone who can stand up for themself and does often #like im sorrryyy but so many y/n are written as the most pussyfooted mfers on the damn planet i hope danny kills them like damn bitch!!#stop crying everytime someone looks at you funny grow a damn backbone or at least half of one 😭#him falling for someone snarky and kinda mean but caring is so real to me you dont even know #also thinking of this with gn reader (but mainle m!reader tbh because there like almost 0 of those and it makes me sad)#like people tag gn reader but then theyre also like oh yeah reader is afab and uses she/her blah blah blsh THATS NOT GN BESTIE WHY LIE #i just hate that gn is treated as girl lite like hust put fem reader if youre not even gonna try 😟!!#im just ranting now sorry 💀#anywayssss teehee thats my idea rn thanks bye now

87 notes · View notes

captain-mj · 2 years ago

Note

Give me part 2 to the mind thing or I'm going to throw rocks through your window, you dumb whore

(Pretty pls??)

I got you! Please don't throw rocks in my window

~~~~

Soap stayed with Ghost for a while, letting him calm down.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. That's one of my least favorites."

"Did he do stuff like that a lot?"

Rather than answer, Ghost's hands tightened on him. Soap nodded a little.

"You're not useless. Or weak. You never were."

"I sucked as a kid." Ghost mumbled.

Soap shook his head. "No. No kid deserves that." He pulled him up, holding his arm. "You didn't deserve that."

"Thanks, Johnny. Come on. Let's keep looking." Ghost tugged him along. He didn't pull his arm away so Soap didn't let go. They found their way to a new memory.

It was them at the bar, when Ghost wore the ski mask instead of his balaclava. Soap could feel the anxiety rolling off of him, but to his credit, he had stayed there. Everything was so sharp. Everything, down to the last detail in vivid color.

"I was nervous. Didn't realize how scary it would be." Ghost leaned into him.

Soap looked around. "Still no door. Are you sure that's how we leave?"

Ghost nodded. "Yes... It always is. Those things don't change." He sighed. "It usually doesn't take this long. I'm sorry."

Soap hit his shoulder. "You mention its usually in the memory of the accident. Do you want to check there?"

"I... suppose." Simon sighed. "It would be faster." He led Soap around, holding tighter to him. “It’s a rough memory. I didn’t react well. I just wanted to warn you.”

The door was on the other side of the house, where the front door would be. Soap hadn’t noticed before, but there was Christmas music playing behind it and he could see lights underneath it.

“You can keep your eyes closed.” Soap offered.

“No. I’m okay.” Ghost promised. “I see it a lot.”

Soap nodded and tugged him gently into the room. It was as he expected. All three of them executed and laid out for Ghost to find.

He was so young looking. A lot closer to his Ghost than the one he was traveling with, but still. Maybe only Soap’s age. The scars on his face were there. Freshly healing still.

Ghost had clearly been expecting this. He stared at the scene, eyes flickering over them before his lip twitched. The laughter started and Soap flinched. It sounded so harsh. Cold and distant and choking like it was being ripped out of him.

He stepped closer to him and then started to look around, searching for something.

Soap felt his breath catch when he saw the tiny feet under the blanket.

Ghost started laughing harder, hands going to the gun on his belt. Even though he knew Ghost lived, knew because how else could be here, he still panicked watching him put that gun to his mouth. Watching him take the safety off. He felt Simon grip onto him, hiding his face in his shoulder.

Ghost dropped the gun and threw up in a trash can, body shaking. He trembled and Soap wanted to break this memory too. Wanted to pull away and comfort him, but Simon gripped him hard, not letting him.

“I’ve never been able to cry easily.” Simon explained. “My dad... I don’t know. My initial psych eval said it was psychological block. Apparently, its common for people to laugh instead.”

Soap nodded and looked around. “No door... Sorry, really thought that one would work.”

Simon sighed. “It’s not usually this well hidden. I’m getting tired.”

Soap frowned. That wasn’t good. “Okay. How about you wait in the living room and I’ll come get you when I find it?”

Simon nodded and let Soap push him onto the couch. His lithe frame folding up and shivering. Soap put a few blankets on him and tucked him in.

He was supposed to have more time, but if Ghost was slipping, he’d need to hurry up.

Soap went through the remaining doors quickly not sparing them much time.

Ghost beneath the bleachers with the guy from the party, lips locked together.

Ghost putting a bullet through someone’s skull while sniping, excitement clear in his eyes. Probably his first kill if this was considered significant.

Ghost and him. He did pause at this one.

They had stopped at their doors and looked at each other. Soap had waited, wanting nothing more than to be invited in. Ghost looked at him and Soap glowed. It was weird, seeing how Ghost saw him. He looked perfect. Without flaw.

He knew for a fact that night he had been dirty and sweaty, hair messed up. But you wouldn’t know any of that from this memory. Soap looked perfect still.

On instinct, he checked above Ghost’s head.

“You don’t deserve him.”

Oh, Simon. Soap watched him turn away and go inside, locking the door. Ghost started undressing and Soap noticed there were some injuries that definitely had not been reported. He watched Ghost bandage himself and then a flush started to build across his cheeks.

Soap wished he still had Simon here to explain why this is considered important but the words above Ghost’s head appeared first.

“Maybe I could try.”

Try to deserve him? No. That didn’t seem right. Most of the words were very self depreciative, he doubted it meant that.

He stepped back from the memory.

Last door. The metal one at the end of the hallway. Maybe he should get...

No. He’d be fine. Simon could continue to relax. If the door wasn’t there, they’d need to restrategize anyway.

He leaned his head against the door, hearing a suffocating nothingness.

Fun.

Soap took a deep breath. No time to be a bitch, Johnny.

He opened it and walked in, surprised to find how bright it was.

They were in a medical facility. A pretty nice one from the looks of it.

A surgery gone wrong? He had heard of people on anesthetic not losing consciousness but being paralyzed. Maybe Ghost had gone through something similar.

That thought was dashed when they dragged him in. Simon was fighting hard, face unscarred for the most part. He fought as hard as he could but there was two of them and he clearly had been beaten, blood running down his face from his nose.

They all spoke Spanish, but it was garbled. They tied Simon down, locking his hands and feet down so he couldn’t move.

He glared at them, tensing up. “I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Sure you will, perro.” One of them cooed, like he was a child who said something funny.

They grabbed a scalpel, but they hadn’t given him anything. He frowned, not understanding what they were doing.

The scalpel went straight through his skin, cutting down the middle from his sternum to his belly button. Ghost didn’t scream. Just sat there, looking elsewhere.

Soap watched them, bile rising in his throat. They flayed him until Soap could see straight to his ribs. Could see a few of his organs if he dared to look hard enough. Could see Ghost’s heart beating and then watched as they grabbed needles.

He focused on Ghost’s face instead of whatever they were about to do. Watched as he bit straight through his lip, blood pouring down his chin.

The memory didn’t end so much as went fuzzy. Everything got softer around the edges and then it sharpened again suddenly. Ghost tied with his hands behind his back in a different place, a woman in his lap. She held his face and made kissing noise but he tried to turn away, nose wrinkling. Both of them were undressed, but Soap didn’t want to look down. His eyes looked around panicked and Soap noticed a man with skull makeup painted on, watching with this sick grin on his face.

Ghost’s pupils were huge, bottles of opiates scattered and shattered on the floor.

And right behind him, red door, black handle.

Soap fled. He went straight to Simon, dragging him up.

“Come on. We’re going to have to do this fast okay? I don’t want you to look.” He held Simon’s face. “When we get out of here, we’re going to have a bourbon and I’m going to do this again okay?”

“Do wh-” Soap connected their lips briefly.

“When you have stubble and look like my Simon, I’ll give you a better one, yeah?” He knew he sounded frantic, but he needed this to be over. Needed to have Ghost safe in a med bay where he belonged.

Simon blushed and right above his head. “Starstruck”

That was a much better word.

“Okay. Let’s go.” Simon held on to him. Soap felt him tense as they neared him, but he didn’t falter. His hands dug into Soap, but even if he bruised him, he wouldn’t have cared. As long as he stayed right next to him, Soap could’ve ignored anything.

He looked up at Simon. “Why did this memory go fuzzy?”

“I dissociated. I did that a lot during this time.”

“You’re good at it. Learn that during your first tour?”

“Home.” Simon smiled at him, leaning down so they were face to face.

“Noticed you had a thing for football players. Did you know I played?”

“Course you did.”

“Did you play any sports?”

“Nah. I was in a band for a while.”

“What?? And none of those memories were considered significant to you?”

“Nope.” Simon smiled teasingly. “I would prefer to forget highschool happened honestly. And this. Like to focus on my time in the military.”

“Your time with me, ya mean?” Soap meant it as a joke, relieved that everything was going fuzzy and they would move to when Ghost woke up and the door.

“Maybe that’s part of it.” Simon admitted softly.

Soap yanked him hard and shoved him through that dumb door before he could even glance at the memory. They tumbled through the inky blackness and Soap felt him be ripped from it as he spiraled. Darkness was all consuming. All powerful.

And then he was back in bed. He shot up and the doctors quickly grabbed him.

“You’re good, sir.”

“Ghost?”

“Stabilized and probably waking up right now. Any di-” Soap got up and cut him off.

“Bye then.”

“Sir, we need to examine you t-”

“Nope. I’m good. I’m fine.” Soap walked right past him, going to Ghost instead.

Ghost was indeed awake and very angry. “If one more of you motherfuckers jabs me with a goddamn needle.”

“It’s an IV.”

“Get fucked.” Ghost hissed.

Soap relaxed. “LT.”

“Johnny.” Ghost turned towards him and the nurse stuck him.

Soap laughed. “Relax. They’re just making sure you’re okay.” He would never admit that he skipped out on his own examination.

Ghost huffed, back to his normal self. Mask on, everything tucked away. He reluctantly let them finish.

Soap grabbed one of the cookies he was offered, knowing that Ghost would not eat it while here since that would require lifting the mask.

Ghost glanced at him briefly before looking away. Soap moved a bit closer.

“You remember what I promised, right?”

Ghost stiffened. Soap wondered if he was blushing under there.

“A drink.”

“And a kiss remember?”

Ghost hummed. “I’ll be holding you to it.”

#Johnny Soap Mactavish #Simon Ghost Riley #Soap Cod #Ghost COD #Soapghost #Ghostsoap #Soap x Ghost #Ghost x Soap #Macriley #Call of Duty #Call Of Duty Modern Warfare 2

213 notes · View notes

hongism · 3 years ago

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 43

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ word count: 8.1k ➻ rating: M ➻ warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act six ➻ part two

You’re still nursing your bruised wrist when the ship finds its landing place in a mountain port on Rathmos. Even though it’s the middle of the night when you land, you can’t find it in you to be even the slightest bit tired after the nightmare you lived through earlier in the day. Jisung had told you to prepare to leave the ship, leaving only a change of clothes on the couch before he left the room. That’s where he finds you when he returns too — seated on that same couch in the same clothes you arrived in, with his spare change still untouched and off to the side.

“Come on, don’t you wanna get those cleaned at least?” he offers, motioning towards your body. You almost take his expression for one of genuine concern, but that feeling fades as quickly as it comes. You regard the man with a firm stare and silence. “I see. In any case, we’re here, so let’s head out. Two of my men are coming along with us, so don’t get any funny ideas about running off.”

“Lock me up then. I’m making no promises.”

“I don’t want to have to do that, Y/n.”

“Put me in the brig,” you argue back, leaning forward as Jisung turns to the door.

“I… you need to come with us. The person we’re going to see is someone you need to see as well.”

“Who could you possibly need me to see, Jisung?” There’s a bite in your tone, and at last, you push up to your feet and glare at Jisung’s back as though it’ll do you any good.

“I’m not asking you to trust m—”

“But you’re asking me to follow you around like a dog as we go off to see some person who could very well be from the military. How do I know you aren’t trying to sell me off here and now?”

Jisung turns on his heel and faces you. His gaze softens when it lands on you, so much emotion in his eyes that it does almost feel like he’s seeing through you and into your soul.

“Are you afraid, Y/n?”

Your fist clenches at your side, hard enough to where you can feel your pulse radiating under your fingertips.

“I’m here to help you. The man we are going to see is a specialist when it comes to the serum the military uses. He is a defector, he’s worked with countless people and helped them regain lost memories that are tucked behind the barrier the serum puts up. He helped me get back pieces of my childhood before I was recruited.”

“Is this your attempt at an apology, Jisung? For taking years of my life away?”

“No, I’ve said it before and I will say it again. What I did was to protect you. You find that hard to believe, but in showing you what really happened — what we protected you from knowing all this time — maybe you’ll finally understand why it had to remain hidden.” Jisung takes a step in your direction with a sigh on his lips. When he reaches you, he stretches a hand out and faces his palm to the ceiling. “We were a team once. I haven’t done anything to harm you directly, and now that your little crewmates are out of the way, there is no reason for me to hurt them any longer.”

You slap at the offending hand, forcing the man to lower his arm back to his side.

“I’ll comply on one condition,” you start. It’s a struggle to keep your lip from wobbling out of sheer rage. “I want to speak to Jin.”

“Aw, darling, this is just humiliating, isn’t it?” Jisung’s lips fall into a pout as he looks at you, nearly eye to eye at this angle. “What do you think you’re gonna do? Scourge traded your life because of that man. Speaking to him won’t change that. Now, let’s go. You’re wasting daylight by lingering here.”

What exactly did you think you would do upon speaking to Jin? Maybe part of you thinks to spite Hongjoong, you’d willingly go give yourself over to Jin and give him another Siren. Could even be just the inklings of curiosity that push you to want to confront the man to see how awful he truly is — if he’s awful at all. Mostly, though, you think it was desperation talking, something to free Seonghwa of that last demon that knocks at his door ever so often.

Jisung doesn’t give you an opportunity to react or do much in the way of defending your request; he turns on his heel and heads out of the room without another word. Perhaps later you’ll be ashamed at your haste to follow him. For now, however, you stick close to his back as he weaves his way through the crowded ship, mostly because that thrill of adrenaline that brought you to punch two of his crew members has faded now to a dull sensation of helplessness. Fighting your way out isn’t an option; playing the waiting game is, as much as you hate it. For now, you’ll go along with Jisung willingly.

“This man… how can I know to trust him with my brain?” You pose the question once you get closer to the airlock with Jisung, watching how he shifts to look back at you over his shoulder.

“I think you’ll trust him just fine when you see him face to face.”

“That’s a bit ominous, isn’t it?” There are two men standing outside the airlock, one dressed head to toe in black like a proper thug, and the other in something less suspicious. In fact, you might go so far as to assume that he’s a doctor, given the sleek appearance he puts off between grey slacks and a long white smock over top that goes down past his knees. You don’t get an introduction from either man, but you aren’t much in the mood for pleasantries from men like these anyway.

“Is it?” Jisung blinks down at you without regarding either man behind him. “The face of someone you can trust could either be familiar or one that is simply kind, no?”

“You know as well as I do that simple kindness doesn’t exist in our lives.”

“Then I suppose I can offer you no peace of mind.” Jisung, at last, acknowledges the men at his back and motions towards the latch of the airlock. “You’ll take the wheel for us, Atticus.”

The first of the two is the one who moves, taking the metal into his hands and shifting it until it budges, and you watch with lips pressed tight together as it slides open.

Rathmos is a place you have very little memory of, although only because you didn’t set foot outside the ship you were stationed on at the time. Now, stepping out into brisk weather and biting winds, you aren’t sure you ever missed out on much. The hangar Jisung has landed you on is not protected — a simple landing pad amongst a long line of similar ones left out to fall victim to the cold. You fold your arms around yourself and hug your body in an attempt to keep the chill at bay.

The man from earlier, Atticus, takes the lead across the rough metal flooring. Jisung doesn’t seem keen on letting you out of his sight as he jerks his head and the final companion slips behind the two of you to follow from there.

“What do you remember of your childhood, Y/n?” Jisung inquires, voice barely audible over the whistling winds.

“Little to nothing.”

“I was a farmer’s son. Kebos was my home actually. Perhaps that’s why I always wished to return there, even when I did not know it to be home.” Jisung shifts to look at you. His voice is soft and kind for once, but you see it as a simple deception that cannot be trusted. His hands remain behind his back, fingers curled over one of his wrists to keep in place. The chill has already brought a redness to his cheeks and nose that must be present on your face as well, but other than that he does not seem bothered by the weather in the slightest. “My father worked at a milling company, milling wheat and such. My mother was a perfume maker. Care to guess her favorite scent?”

It’s a dumb question, an onset for the impatience bubbling in your stomach, but you decide that there’s no harm in humoring with this much. So you look forward to Atticus’ back and wrack your brain for anything that could be in your memories shared with Jisung.

Milk comes to mind. The taste of honey and vanilla as well. But then cherrywood and sugar.

“Cherrywood and sugar,” you toss out, not caring whether you’re right or wrong. It seems you guessed correctly based on the smile Jisung passes next.

“Cherrywood and sugar,” he whispers. The smile on his lips is too gentle for the serpentine nature he holds in your eyes. “Something so incredibly fascinating about the mind is that even when presented with something that’s meant to be an obstacle, our brains can just… suck it in and make it like it was always there. The military, when giving their serums, never aimed to replace memory. Merely, they obstructed it in placing a barrier at the part of the brain that controls long-term memory. The hippocampus. As such, they aimed only to target episodic memories. However, they overlooked quite a bit in doing so. The hippocampus is not the only part of the brain that controls memory. They purposefully wouldn’t touch the parts that store higher functions like sensory perception, motor skills, spatial reasoning and language, because those things needed to be kept. And yet, they didn’t touch the amygdala.”

Jisung pauses to inhale sharply. His expression is a bit bewildered like he can’t believe what he’s relaying to you, and you clear your throat when the silence drags.

“And what, pray tell, is the significance of that?”

Jisung’s lips fall shut slowly before one corner of his lips tugs up into a cat-like grin. It tugs something in your chest, pulls a little at your heart and makes you remember the way things used to be before it all spiraled out of control for your old team.

“Because, and I think you’re experiencing it now given your distraught expression, the amygdala attaches emotional significance to memories.”

“Boss.” The voice of the man in front of you interrupts Jisung’s train of thought. You take the moment to look forward rather than at the man on your left and find something that seems to resemble an old military vehicle used in the field. A simple truck meant to carry goods, with the trunk adjusted to have a canopy arched over it. Atticus moves to the right of the vehicle, clearly going for the driver’s side, while the man behind you shifts to step up into the covered trunk. Jisung motions for you to follow him. You climb up into it, and even though it offers no respite from the dreadful cold, it does quiet the wind and take away some of its bite. Jisung joins you inside and seats himself directly across from you beside the other man before leaning close.

“What happens when you take away a memory but leave behind all the emotional significance that was tied to it?”

A tad distracted, you imagine Yunho would be far more interested in answering that question than you.

“Y/n, your body still reacts to things it used to have memory of, but it can’t make the connection to that memory anymore because the military effectively sequestered the hippocampus and prevented anything from touching those old memories. They’re still in your brain, still stored where they always were, but your brain has essentially been locked out of itself. However, even though the very specific and minute details of a memory are kept in the hippocampus, certain information gets moved from the hippocampus to the neocortex, where it’s stored like general knowledge, like what effect alcohol has on you or how coffee gets you energized. Essentially, the military could take away explicit memories that could verbally be expressed, but their serum couldn’t take away implicit memories that run on auto-pilot. While we were still in the military, I had such a strong connection to that scent of cherrywood and burnt sugar without knowing why. But my brain told me there was an emotional connection to that scent even though I couldn’t pinpoint the memory as one of my mother making perfume in the kitchen at night. But I lived in that house for so many years, that my brain moved the information of that scent feeling like home to implicit memory, to an instinctual reaction for my brain to tell me ‘this smells like home’.”

You lick over your dry lips and stare at the floor between your knees.

“What about… leakage of memories in the brain? Is that something common with the serum?”

“No,” Jisung answers after a moment of hesitation. “Not in cases like myself, where my brain was only touched by the serum once. Which is precisely why they never administer more than one dosage. For you… unfortunately… you had two doses, years apart. Old military documents never held trials where the doses were given so far apart. They had a trial period where they give doses in quick succession and found that it all but ruptured the hippocampus entirely, removing long-term memory as a whole from the patient. But for you, your brain had time to accommodate the first dose and then built memories on top of what was locked away. So when we went in and gave a second dose, it was merely adding another wall. The wall… it’s hard to articulate exactly how it behaves, but it acts as a disruptive force that keeps things from processing smoothly in your brain. If you tried enough, you could probably remember things that are hidden behind that wall, but the amount of effort it would take would be wildly painful and difficult to achieve when you don’t know exactly what you’re looking for.

“Before operating on you, we ran a test trial on someone else, close in age to you, to simply see whether we could lock certain memories out and leave others behind. The process isn’t pretty. Once the serum goes in, the doctors would be able to go in and pick a cut-off, of sorts. For us, it was anything before that very moment. For your second time, we didn’t pick a cut-off. In our test trial, rather than choosing an age or a time to halt memory, we pinpointed certain events that were stored in long-term memory. In isolating those, we could lock it away behind that wall, and the brain was left to piece things together differently. And because we disrupted the process of your brain moving that event from short-term to long-term memory, you didn’t remember us tampering in your head. Like I said earlier… the mind has a fantastic capability of absorbing obstacles and creating new memory around them. You could remember an event happening completely differently than how it actually was.”

“For example?” Your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak, and you swallow around nothing to get rid of the lump forming in your throat. It’s a horrid feeling, hearing all this relayed back to you like you were simply a puppet for him to twist and turn. But you in the very least have one memory that you know to be true, the one Soojin corrected for you, one of you killing the king at Hyunwoo’s supposed execution. It’s one you hope Jisung will relay truthfully to you now.

“Give me a memory, and I’ll tell you whether it’s true or not.”

“I remember killing the king the night of Hyunwoo’s execution after you all had supposedly left. I remember climbing tall walls with my sniper strapped to my back, and shooting him in the skull after Hyunwoo was executed. Is that true or not?” The memory is hazy now that it’s been replaced by Soojin’s retelling, but you remember the more striking bits of it in vivid detail.

“No.”

“What happened the night I killed the king?”

“I nearly killed you. But you don’t recall that part, do you?” Jisung gives an unsettling little grin, and you bite your tongue to keep from saying that you truly do. He sits back to rest his back against the seat, eyes trailing over where you remain rigidly seated in an almost uncomfortable perfect position. “Hyunwoo offered to take the blame for my crimes. That upset you quite a bit. And instead of taking it out on me, your brilliant idea was to go murder the king yourself that very night. You waited until the others were asleep to leave the barracks, and I was waiting outside for you because I knew what you wanted to do. You told me you were going to finish the job I started so that I couldn’t hurt anyone else. Then, you asked if I was going to take responsibility, stop you, and do it myself. I said no. If you wanted so badly to play the hero, to act like a fucking savior, then you could go right ahead. So you did. And I went back inside, and so — I was so fucking close to wrapping my hands around Hyunwoo’s neck and killing him in his sleep. Y/n, I wanted to murder him because who was he to fucking… what made him so much more important than me? That you would go out and put yourself on the chopping block for him? I was so close to doing it but fucking Ash woke up right as I went up to his bed. Never got the opportunity after that either because you came waltzing back soon after, drenched in so much blood that a serial killer would have been jealous. I had to act none the wiser like I didn’t let you walk out just before to do my dirty work. And Soojin got up and treated you like this poor wounded child who needed help, who didn’t know what she was doing, and…”

Jisung’s words fade in one ear and out the other, because this part, you now remember all too well with a horrible aftertaste of blood on your tongue as it hits you again.

“What the fuck did you do!?” Jisung’s voice rings loud in your ears.

Hands squeeze hard around your throat with the intent to shove you under bloody waters. The color seeps across your clothes and skin, staining your body with evidence of what you’ve done, and your ears ring.

“Let her go!” Soojin, this time, sharp and motherly as always as she fights Jisung’s grip on you.

“You ruined everything! How could you do this? Why are you so fucking useless? I told you to sit still and not do anything!”

The water spreads to your nostrils and forces its way in as you struggle to find air. For a moment, you think that maybe your time has come and you’ll die.

“Jisung, release her right this instant!”

The hands around your throat just grow tighter with each word echoing about the waters

Black touches the edges of your vision, mixing with the murky rust-colored water, and you part your lips to fight for just a bit more air. Instead, the metallic and tangy taste of blood touches your tongue and fills your senses further. Your hands burn and ache. The thumping at your fingertips is not your own, just a phantom sensation that grows stronger the closer you get to passing out.

Fingers snap in front of your vision, and you jerk your head up to see Jisung leaned forward once more, lips grinning wide like a Cheshire, but his eyes don’t hold the same energy.

“Remember now?”

You still feel that heartbeat from the memory on your fingers, and it bears such a stark resemblance to something else, something more recent, something that was imbued in your memory almost the second it happened, and —

A shaky gasp escapes your lips as you lean further back against the wall of the canopy. You curl your fingers into your palms and tuck them close to your body as though trying to hide the weapons that did unspeakable things.

“Your body still reacts to things it used to have memory of.”

The serum couldn’t take away things that ran on auto-pilot.

It couldn’t take away the inherent knowledge your brain clings to of reaching into a man’s chest and tearing it out because you’d done it before, back on Eros years ago, even if your mind rejected having that knowledge to begin with. It’s a stark horror that washes over you.

You need San.

Perhaps you’re too dependent on the comfort he offers, but now you need him desperately to put his hand in yours and look at you like you hung every star in the universe until you believe you’re not more of a monster than a human being.

It seems that you and Wooyoung have more in common than you thought.

“Do you still want those memories back, Y/n? Do you get what we were trying to protect you from?” Jisung persists with speaking, but you find yourself so dazed and out of focus that you can’t grant him any sort of response. You half expect the man to continue to drive the knife deeper in your chest, but instead, it’s the man sitting at his side who continues the train of thought.

“You know, symptoms of PTSD can permeate into other mental health issues if left untreated long enough.”

You don’t grace the man with a reaction or a response.

“That’s what you have, isn’t it? Captain has the same himself, but he’s not left it untreated.”

Now you blink up to meet the man’s lingering gaze, only to find that he’s looking back at you with a stare that can only be described as conniving. He leans forward in his seat to stare harder, and you have nowhere to run or hide from that gaze.

“Given that you’re coming from the Scourge’s crew, that means the doctor on board is none other than Jeong Yunho.”

“Sure love to talk about me, don’t you, Jisung?” You hiss out, shifting your focus to the man right across from you. He pushes his lower lip up into his top one and shakes his head.

“Word spreads fast, Y/n. Didn’t have to say a word for the crew to know who you’ve been mingling with these days.”

“Has he treated you in any capacity?” The man at his side continues without missing a beat. “Even tried? He claims to be a doctor of high caliber, lots of arrogance on that one, so I’m eager to understand whether he’s actually any good at his job. Most doctors in our line of business exchange a lot of correspondence and meet to discuss new findings as such on rare occasions. I’ve met Jeong Yunho a handful of times, yet he was the same each time. So full of himself that he couldn’t take advice.”

“Maybe he had a reason to not listen to you,” you counter with a quirk of your brow, but it only pulls a dry laugh from the supposed doctor.

“There’s this name we doctors have for that phenomenon. I mean, it’s not much of a phenomenon because it’s rather common, but we typically say it’s when a doctor has a ‘plague of arrogance’. Thinks so highly of himself that he assumes he’s got a patient all figured out at first glance, and in turn ends up ignoring other nuances and symptoms that point towards other issues because they can’t bear being wrong. But then he’s not doing his job because he’s not treating the patient properly. Is that what happened with you?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business whatsoever, doctor.”

“Ah, dear, you’ll be joining our crew, won’t you? That means you’ll be in my care from here on out, so consider it a simple screening to see where we need to start. Could it be you withhold information from him instead? I mean, if he’s truly that good of a doctor he’d recognize deflection tendencies as indicators of other issues present. But in the case that he’s not, then it means you’ve been left to struggle with these issues alone and felt unsafe to a degree where you can’t openly talk about them.” Although your chin dips to your chest, you push your gaze up to glare over at Jisung, where the man catches your stare with one that nearly appears apologetic. “There’s also the issue of your doctor being too highly involved in the lives of his patients. He can’t properly treat the mental state of anyone on that crew while having a biased stance in their personal affairs.”

“Are you diagnosing me or my doctor?”

The man pushes his head back and flicks a stray piece of faded purple hair out of his eye. His lips part, most likely to offer some sort of retort, but Jisung cuts into the conversation and placates the doctor by putting a hand over his knee.

“I think that’s enough, Min. We don’t need to get more into this now.”

“I recall you asking me to come along precisely for this reason.”

“Not to attack her or her previous crewmates.” Jisung sighs and pulls his hand back into his lap. A moment later, he nods towards the front where the other man sits behind the wheel. “Go sit up with Atticus for now. Allow us some bit of privacy.”

The doctor lets out a frustrated huff but does as told without complaint and slides over to climb into the front seat. Jisung waits until the man is fully settled before he decides to speak again.

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not.”

“I think it’s quite unfortunate that he thought it necessary to subject you to that, yes, and I’m sorry that he made things tense.”

“How much longer will we be driving around like this?”

“Several hours, in the very least. We need to get out of the mountains and head west a bit to reach our destination. He’s off in the plains.”

“Then I’ll sleep.”

“Y/n, there was mo—”

“Please don’t disturb me until we’ve arrived.”

Jisung bites his tongue and concedes with a slight nod, motioning towards the booth you’re seated on. You twist to lie down on your side but don’t let the man out of your sight for a second until you’re comfortable enough to close your eyes and seek some rest. It’s a bit disconcerting to say the least that you can still feel his gaze lingering on you the whole time, but respite comes quickly enough, and you get to forget about his presence for the time being.

///

Sleep, unfortunately, does not bring you to Wooyoung again. Given how things went down the last time you saw each other, you cannot be sure whether that’s a good or bad thing — some part of you wishes to console him still, but for the time being, you can only hope that someone back on The Horizon is offering that for him now.

Rather than a regal palace or a black lake with a red moon, this dream brings you to something far more antiquated.

The interior of a church, one that’s old and well past its time of beauty and glory. The walls are crumbling a bit, leaving gaps in the stones for light to peek through, and the rays of sunlight are almost pink in hue as they hit the dusty floor. Books, cobwebs, upturned pews and podiums — everything is in absolute disarray, but entirely untouched. Even your soft breaths disturb the air and kick up flakes of grey dust.

The smell, however, isn’t that of something old and locked away.

It only takes a moment for the pieces to click together, and you realize then that it’s not dust that covers the interior but rather ash. It combs over your bare feet and hugs your skin, sneaking up your ankles like it has a mind of its own. Your white garb already bears some of the ashy flakes, and it’s no doubt covering most of your side and back as you shift into a sitting position. The building is empty to an eerie degree, doors shut at your back and a lone podium standing upright at the other end of the room. It’s hard to get to your feet without slipping on the mess around you. You pull the legs of your pants up a bit higher to escape the mess as you step further into the building.

Two steps forward and your foot crunches over something brittle and sharp. You jolt backward to look at the ground, seeing only a pile of ash until you brush the top away with your toes.

Bones.

Small enough to belong to a child.

You step back as the horrific realization dawns on you, and your steps are met with a series of similar noises that echo in the emptiness of the room.

“Umiko.”

You whip around to face the voice, shoulders drawn up to your ears as you come face to face with the man.

“Daichi.”

The man’s wrinkled features curve as he gives a wry smile.

“You’re learning more and more. Pieces are slipping through whether you’re aware of it or not.” He slips past you, stepping over the bones and ash without a care in the world.

“What is this place?” You ask after him. Your steps are jagged and awkward, poor attempts at avoiding the bones under your feet, but your new companion does not comment on the noises coming from behind him.

“My knowledge only stretches as far as yours does, Umiko.”

“How can that be? You’re supposed to be my guide.”

“I’m limited by the constraints of your mind. I cannot tell you things which you don’t already know, not truly.” Daichi offers a shrug as he nears the podium at the front of the church, and he pauses there to turn back and stare at you.

“You told me of another Siren before. You warned me about Wooyoung.”

“Because he was close by, in your consciousness, his knowledge was mine as well. But when he’s not present, I cannot know more than you. The same goes for the other.”

“Seonghwa?”

“Yes, Kazuya, although all his knowledge comes from books and retellings. He is not like you, not like Tsukio. He’s not born of black waters.”

“What does that mean?”

“He’s told you, hasn’t he? His birthplace?”

“Yes, he — it was Dorado.”

“Umiko, you know your birthplace.”

“I don’t,” you argue back, although your tone is nothing more than a whisper.

“The map on your back is meant to guide you home.”

“Then why does Seonghwa have one? That looks identical to mine? If he’s not from the same place as me, then why—”

“All Sirens are meant to come home at some point, Umiko. Even if they were born elsewhere. They are meant to return to the black water’s embrace.” The man pauses to shake his head then motions for you to move forward. “Come, look at this now.”

Your legs move on their own accord, even though your mind is swimming with other questions you wish to ask the man. Reaching the podium, you find a book with yellowed pages pushed open to the end, words in an unknown language swimming up to meet you, and you trace the lettering with a stray finger. The page is barely filled; it holds but one passage set in the center of it, and Daichi is the one to enlighten you on their meaning.

“The moon will meet the sea in fire, and guided by the earth, they will seek the sun. As the sun rises out of the east, so the moon will set in the west with waters crashing out of the south and the earth climbing in the north, and fires will blaze at the center of it all. Blood spilled over pale sands and misted skies.”

Your eyes widen, fingers pause on the page, and you snap your chin up to look at Daichi.

“This… I know this.”

“I’ve told you it before, yes.”

“How did you know to translate it? What it meant?” Your questions come out in a tumble accompanied by quick and frantic blinks.

“Because you know it, Umiko. You know it and this language both, deep down in the recesses of your fractured and broken mind. There are memories of this place, these words. Manko was your first language, even if you cannot remember a bit of it now.”

“It’s a church so this… is scripture?”

“A prophecy.” Daichi folds his hands behind his back and straightens to his full height. “It’s a key, Umiko. This was your church once, one where you were taught to become the perfect vessel. Here, within the Church of the Children of the Sea. In conjunction with the other four churches, one Siren from each was supposed to be sacrificed to the gods. It was an event that only happened once in a hundred or so years, but you were chosen at birth. You knew your purpose, as did the other children who were chosen. One from each church to be sacrificed, one for each god, to become the vessel of their spirit and their will. To bless your people. Any Siren could have been the vessel, any person of any age and station in life. But you… you were selected for a divine purpose, Umiko. And yet, you never fulfilled that purpose. You’ve read the folklore before, the books from Kazuya’s shelf, you read your own story without even knowing it was you.”

You let your hand fall loosely by your side, eyes seeking the book on the podium once more as you wrack your brain for any recollection of that book. Seonghwa only gave you a handful at the time, two of which were mostly scientific and military readings about Sirens and their nature. Yet the third was indeed something beyond that, something more fantastical and unreal in your mind, and it was something you thought made for a good bedtime story meant to scare an unknowing child rather than anything with serious intent to its words.

“Tell me your story, Umiko. From the beginning.”

Yet, you aren’t the one to retell the story you read back then. Daichi speaks it back to you like the memory is still fresh and at the forefront of your mind even though you’ve pushed it back as far as imaginable.

“Back when the universe was just coming into existence, there were several divine powers that presided over it, nurturing it and caring for it as it was brought to life. Yet they could not live in harmony or agree on the nature of the universe, and thus many decided to split apart and head in different directions. To a deeply hidden planet, five deities retreated — one of sun, one of stone, one of fire, one of moon, and one of water. There, they brought their own humanity into existence, then blessed their first creations with themselves, such that the children they would bear would hold some incredible ability in them. But they did not give their gift to every child, nor did they allow their gift to go without payment.”

You round the edge of the podium with your hand on the side, eyes going off to one of the cracks in the wall where pink moonlight filters through.

“Under the bloodied moon, on black sands in dark waters, the people were expected to give up five children as due sacrifice for the boons the deities gave them. And this tradition carried on for thousands of years, stretching on and on even as people left the planet and spread their seed elsewhere. Still the faithful remained on the planet to carry out what had been passed down to them every one hundred twenty-eight years. Still, they kept to their beliefs and they honored the deities who blessed them in the beginning, who made them Sirens. Five churches were set up on the planet, one for each deity. Sun, stone, fire, moon, and water. Each Siren born was blessed with the gift of a map leading them home, to their purpose, in the form of markings along their spines. And for each Siren born, a deity saw fit to mark them with their own emblem such that they would be marked to be a vessel. Sun, stone, fire, moon, and water. These children were raised in the church, separated by mark, and when the time came, the child who showed the most promise would be selected as the vessel. Guided to the Deep Lake of Kann, there the children sank in the waters with a stone tied to their ankles and given up to the deities such that their boons could continue to bless the people of the planet for years to come. That planet…”

Daichi trails off, and you shift to look him in the eye as his voice fades.

“…was Celeste,” you finish in his stead, gaze firm on his. “I was raised for slaughter then.”

“And yet, here you are. I cannot help but wonder why that is, Umiko. You were the most promising of your kin within that church, but the ritual was never fulfilled seeing as you are standing here now.”

“And I cannot help but wonder if you know more than you’re letting on, old man,” you retort. He matches the tilt of your chin. “Telling me to stay away from Sirens with one breath, then saying that my whole purpose of existence was to be killed alongside Sirens. That that fate ought to be considered a divine gift.”

“There are Sirens who were, in fact, not meant to exist. Ones with unspeakable abilities born out of mutations of the gods’ gifts, but whose abilities could not be fully realized at birth. Thus, they were found to be most apt for sacrifice. You could have been considered one of those, given your ability to sink your hand into the chest of a man and pull his heart clean out of his body. The Siren Iboun would have been selected for his ability to harm and maim other Sirens within the confines of the Dreamscape. You can understand why such an ability would be dangerous to you.

“Anything beyond what the gods initially gave was never meant to exist. It was not in the deities’ plans, and nonetheless, the people found themselves overcome with greed. Humanity’s great escape from their own fate. It’s in the book, isn’t it? The tale of how the unifying church of Celeste that presided over the other five sectors thought they could warrant more power than what the gods gave them to begin with. Linking Sirens from separate churches to have a special bond, to combine the abilities given by each deity with bonding pair that would strengthen the bloodline. How they would select a pair at birth and link them then, have them grow up together and bond in a way that they wouldn’t suspect their connection being from outside interference. The last attempt to free themselves from being slaves to the gods’ will, and yet look where it’s landed them. They’ve all been made slaves to their fellow humans now. Their identity is no longer a feared household name like it once was. Now it’s a brand, one that makes them for slavery and slaughter. So… in their ploy to escape the gods, they doomed themselves to a different fate.”

“Then the rumors of there only being five Sirens left in the universe, that was a result of there being five churches and five sacrifices?”

“Yes.”

“And this church? Why was it burned to the ground with children inside?” Another question lingers on the tip of your tongue, but you keep it to yourself for the time being.

“You know this as well, but I cannot remember for you. I would suggest that you seek counsel with Tsukio. He remembers things you do not.”

“Why him?”

“Oh, child, why do you think?”

His hands come down on your shoulders hard enough to push you to the ground. You expect to hit the ashy floor with a thud but that never comes, and instead, you enter a freefall into a darkness that swallows the scenery around you. You scramble in the air to find some sort of balance, something to end the fall or at least make your landing less harsh, but the air is too thick and harsh for you to move through. As cold sweeps over you, it dawns on you that you are not, in fact, falling through the air but rather water, unimaginably dark waters that push you to an unknown destination.

“Lasu kan tan wogo?”

Water pushes into your lungs.

“Where are we going?”

Something pushes into your vision, something bright and red and spreading through the dark like an infection.

“I won’t die because of their fate. I won’t let them choose how my life ends or when it ends.”

“Our fates have been sealed, Tsukio. Isn’t it simpler to accept that?”

“Don’t call me that. That’s not my name. And yours isn’t — it isn’t Umiko!”

The words echo in your ears.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking us away from here. I’m getting us off this planet, Y/n.”

“We’re just kids. What are you gonna do?”

“The slavers will take us. We’re good enough crop for them. And I’ll make sure we stay together, I’ll keep us together, and we can forget all of this ever happened.”

“Our families—”

“Our families wanted us to die! For them! So they could be blessed by false gods and promises when we were the ones given their gifts!”

“Why is becoming a slave any better than this?”

“Are we not already slaves? Have we ever had a say in our lives? Since we were born, they’ve chosen what we do, what we say, what we wear, eat, learn, they’d choose how we breathe if they could. We’ve already been slaves for this long, Y/n. It’s only fair that we get to choose the circumstances now.”

Images swirl in the light ahead of you, merely shadows against the blinding red background like it’s a crude circus trick — first, of children running hand in hand to an unknown destination, then a boy and a girl standing before a burning building, tall figures taking both and locking them away in chains. Both being pushed into rectangular prisons with others of the same age before it shifts into something else once more. This time, it’s the visage of a group of chained slaves, all children lined up for the slaughter, before a man and a woman with matching crowns atop their heads. The shadows are clearer now and hold faces and more distinct bodies. Men with spears surround them, but in front of them stand two more children, these ones unchained, with their hands outstretched to the lineup of slaves. One of the faces is familiar. One of the children — a girl — is pushed more forward than the other, and her hand latches around one of the slaves in front of her. What must be her sibling moves to do the same, finding a child further down the line.

“No!”

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Take me, take me instead! Take me, please.” It’s a boy from beside the slave that was just picked who scrambles forward, tripping on the chains around his ankles and landing in front of the royal figures on his knees. He pushes up into a kneeling position. “Take me, I promise to serve you well. I promise to do anything you ask of me. Pick me in his place, I’m begging you.”

“Why should I do such a thing?”

“I cannot… I cannot watch my friends go before me.”

“Is it not a mercy to let them be chosen?”

“If you know anything of the concept of mercy, then I’m begging you, please. Please do not separate me from her.”

“What is your name, slave?”

When the slave lifts his chin, you find his features to be ones you know, a young but still marred and distraught version of the man you know now.

“Wooyoung.”

“Then congratulations, Wooyoung, I extend my mercy to you today. Consider yourself the new slave of Prince Kang Minhee now.”

“What of you? What’s your name?” The girl at his side speaks now, nodding her head towards the child she chose moments ago.

“Umi—Y/n. It’s Y/n.”

“I hope you will serve me well then, Y/n. I am Princess Kang Gaeun.”

///

A firm hand brings you out of the recesses of your dream, and you gasp for air like the water in your lungs had been truly there.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Y/n. We’ve arrived.”

Jisung pulls up on your arm despite your disorientation, and you almost stumble when he gets you to your feet. The dream is fresh in your mind as you step out of the back of the truck and onto solid ground.

The scenery is drastically different than what it was when you fell asleep; the rocky mountains are all but gone from sight entirely, replaced by even hills and plains. There’s no time to reflect on your dream because Jisung gives you only a moment to catch your breath before he’s pushing you forward with a hand secured on your lower back.

“For what it’s worth… I hope you won’t despise us too much for what we had to make you believe.”

You turn to look at the side of Jisung’s face, but he stares forward instead with his expression so grim that you let yourself believe it’s a genuine apology for now. The other two companions he brought linger by the truck as Jisung guides you to the quaint cottage-like building set before you. There, a man stands outside, with big burly arms crossed over his chest, but he’s too far for you to really see. His face only comes into focus after several more steps, and when it does, you stop dead in your tracks.

“You’ll understand one day, Y/n. I promise.”

Your body twists back to Jisung and he looks back this time, lips parted but no sound comes out. It takes a split second for reality to sink through your skin, then you’re bolting forward without a care for the man beside you as you take off running to reach the man on the other side of the grass. The wind bites against your cheeks, made worse by the sting of tears in your eyes. If all the confusion and mystery boiled down to this one point in time, then you can’t imagine how you went on for so long not knowing the truth.

If the man standing before you truly exists, then you cannot believe you let yourself believe otherwise for so long.

There’s a heavy weight on your chest now, one that echoes the pain of the years of your life you spent working to avenge his death and clear his name, the empty grave you dug alone and afraid on a cold and rainy night on Eros.

It pales in comparison to the warmth he surrounds you with when your body hits his, arms tangling around his waist as you sob loudly into his chest. He’s real under your fingers, breathing and warm with a heartbeat that races against your face, and he envelops your form with his arms until your senses are full of him and him only. Of all the family you had in your past, this is the sole person you remembered, the one you chose yourself and said goodbye to thinking it was the last time.

Hyunwoo. The name fills your mind and pushes out every other thought and question that lingered there. Hyunwoo, Hyunwoo, Hyunwoo.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Y/n?”

✧✧✧ a/n: teheheheheh i promised act six would be the act of answers to all the long awaited questions you had.... i promised :3 so what do you think what are the theories what questions do you have and what questions were answered 🧐

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #mists of celeste #ateez angst fluff smut #ateez series #ateez pirates #ateez space pirates #ateez fic #ateez fanfic #ateez ff

361 notes · View notes

glorified-red · 4 years ago

Note

Could I request hcs for subtle ways the boys express their protectiveness?

Thank you for the request my love! I got to play a fun little game of ‘Eenie Meenie Miney Mo’ for which request to do.

Protective BatBoys

word count: 1600~

warnings: insinuation of someone getting hit by a car, mentions of attackers

I was quite tempted to write Bruce headcanons to this but I must hold back ><

Dick Grayson

Ah, Dick Grayson, the King of small romantic protective gestures

Every time, without fail, Dick will wait until he watches you get inside your house safely before driving/walking away

Its a really cute tick of his because he covers it up with a goodbye kiss and goofy waves that leave you giggling even after you close your house door

But its so he knows where you are, and he can see for himself that you made it safely inside because the second he turns away too soon, you may get locked out, or someone can crawl out from the bushes and nab you

Paranoid, he knows

He constantly wraps you up in things, when you two go swimming he’ll patter up from behind you and place a towel around your shoulders, patting you dry along the way

Very insignificant gesture but he doesn't want you to catch a cold in the A/C or Gotham wind

He’ll do the same with his jackets, maybe even plop his hat on your head when it's gets to the snowy seasons 1. Because its adorable seeing the hat fall into your eyes and 2. Because it'll warm your head up

Scarves too, he’ll even go on a tangent about how cold it is outside while he wraps you in it

Dick will always offer to drive you places, even if you insist on driving yourself to meet up with him or walking there, Dick will still offer because it means he’ll be present if you get into a wreck, sucks but then he can help with first aid

If you decline his offer though, he’ll politely ask for you to take Titus or Ace with you whenever you walk somewhere, they’re trained and he trusts them to keep you company/safe when he can't

Jason Todd

Jason’s protectiveness comes from a place of knowing how cruel the world actually is

He can't stand the idea of anything happening to you

If he has to, he will use his reputation of Red Hood as a way to keep you safe, putting a man at gun point and sneering out, “They’re off. Limits.”

He’d bust a whole trafficking ring if it meant ending a person who touched you or hurt you in any way

But Jason’s protectiveness doesn't stop while he's wearing the helmet

Even when you two are sleeping, Jasons unconsciously protecting you, no matter how you two cuddle, Jason always positions himself as closest to the bedroom door

Whether his back is to the door or he’s facing it, Jason needs the comfort of knowing any person coming into the room would have to get through him before even reaching you

He also envelopes you, he's a big guy so its pretty easy for him to wrap you up in his arms as an extra layer of protection from the outside world

Jason doesn't really like the idea of training you past basic combat or gun skills, hell, he doesn't like involving you in the family business if he doesn't have to

So he inserts himself into any situation you may need protection in

Which is exactly why he starts going to the gym with you as a work out buddy

Jason makes it sound like he just wants to spend time with you or help you achieve your goals faster since he knows how the body works from his Robin days

But deep down you both know his true intentions: he wants to keep an eye on you

The gym is crawling with creeps that have the guts to ogle at you or get too touchy, but having Jason’s 6 foot beefcake of an ass standing beside you the entire time is like an instant creep repellent

Plus, he gets to spot you and make sure you don't get injured from bad technique or from pushing yourself too hard

He’ll even encourage you with innuendos the entire time, but at the end of the day, he’ll gladly walk you home

Tim Drake

Tim is the most subtle about his inner protectiveness, a subtle King if you will

Most times when he gets protective, you never even notice

When you two cuddle in your house, it takes him a very long time to actively fall asleep because he doesn't trust your home security system if you even have one so he forces himself to stay awake just incase anything happens

But don't worry, he’ll eventually get to updating the security in your house

He does get these protective eyes whenever something is off when he's around you, they narrow a bit and latch onto whatever is off, glaring holes into the offending object until its all clear

Its quite terrifying to witness and very hard to miss when Tim is staring dead at the man speaking to you from across the room at a Gala, sipping his drink in the corner

If he feels the need, he will walk up and control the situation, whether it mean inserting himself into the convo or simply being present for it, he’ll do it

The thing with Tim though, is when he's protective, he’s almost always touching you in some way

His fingers playing idly with the ends of your hair as he speaks to a random person who walked up to you, clinging to your shirt/sleeves when he’s analyzing a situation and doesn't want you to go forward just yet, or even as simple as holding your hand as he leads you home

Tim also keeps small snacks/waters on hand at all times to protect you from Gotham heat and pesky hunger, very much like a mother hen because he also carries a first aid kit everywhere

He follows you whenever you walk alone around Gotham at night, he’s already on patrol so he might as well make sure you make it home safe, if anything happens he won't think twice about intervening as RR

If your going out somewhere alone he always always always asks you to call him until you make it to your destination, he doesn't care if he's working on something or in the middle of a board meeting, he has an assistant for a reason who can give him notes

Its become a normal thing for you to send him your Uber tracking link so he can watch it, if you don't send it he won't hesitate to hack into your account just to find it

Damian Wayne

Damian? Wayne? Being subtle?

Its usually pretty obvious when Damian gets protective over you

He’s the type who won't hesitate to pull out a knife out of god knows where and threaten whatever is responsible for you being uncomfortable

This leads to very interesting encounters of you having to hold him back because ‘oh no a random guy bumped into you and didn't apologize’ and suddenly Damian is missing

He’s also incredibly blunt, saying things like “Cover your drink” at galas or handing you one of those hand held tasers before you go out and saying “Go for the neck”

Will insist on training you himself, whether its hand-to-hand combat or with a sword, Damian wants to keep track of your progress himself so he can make sure all your weaknesses are trained

Its also because he doesn't want his grimy brothers near you, so its protective on all counts

But subtlety? Theres a few you can notice after being with him for awhile

He’s very careful when going out around Gotham with you, Damian knows he can fend for himself so he will gladly take the brunt of any possible situation

This leads to him always walking on whichever side of you thats closest to the road, so on the off chance a car derails, he’ll get hit first

Always making sure to match your pace when you two walk together, he doesn't want you getting too far ahead of him because he'd have to run to get to you, too far behind and he might not notice you getting taken silently, he wants you right in arms reach at all times

He has a permanent scowl and narrowed eyes but when he's protective, they get even more prominent

Bonus

All the BatBoys do the same exact thing out of instinct when it comes to protecting you

None of them will hesitate to step in between you and any attacker, pulling you behind them so they are in the line of fire now

Its a subtle action that each of them do, albeit with some differences

Damian will push the attacker back as far as he can from you, putting plenty of distance between the two of them and you, so if anything breaks out, you can run away easily

Dick will hold his arms out, fully covering you but keeping his hands in the fray so if the attacker tries attacking you from any angle, Dick is ready to protect

Tim will grip onto you somehow, keeping his hand right on your bicep or forearm so he can still hold you, he doesn't know if there can be a hidden attacker from behind that will pry you away from him, so touching you is his way of making sure he doesn't lose track of you

Jason will slip in front of you and cross his arms, its a sign of nonchalance but obvious dominance, showcasing that he doesn't need his hands to be intimidating to the attacker, he’ll glare and challenge them so all attention is on him now and not you

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@bungunz

@red-hood-redemption

817 notes · View notes

zodiakuroo · 4 years ago

Text

Cupid’s Bullet

Dabi comes home with a very special Valentine’s Day surprise for you.

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Contains: dubcon/noncon, mentions of death, unhealthy relationship, gun play, fear play, forced orgasms, squirting, mindbreak, angst (if you squint?), quirk usage, one slap but it’s a hard one :3, overstimulation, creampie

Word count: 5.3k

Notes: pls this title is so cringe but it's like bullet instead of arrow cause... ya know but anyways happy valentine’s day from scumbag boyfie!dabi

Dating a villain meant that your relationship was unconventional to say the least. For one, public dates were out of the question, unless you wanted it to end in destruction of public property and some scorched heroes. You also always had to have some kind of flimsy excuse for your family and friends when they asked to meet your elusive boyfriend. In addition, you had to accept the fact that he would have to disappear sometimes for weeks on end to do his boss’ bidding.

There was also the small matter of arson, murder and theft and a multitude of other crimes that you’d prefer not to know about. And while you weren’t necessarily okay with a lot of what Dabi did, you loved him. You loved him so much that turning a blind eye was so easy it made you question your own morality. He didn’t scare you either. Not in the slightest, because you knew in his own special way, he loved you too.

In fact it ran much deeper than that. On his worst days, Dabi could set the world ablaze until nothing was left because in the end he didn’t care about anyone or anything, not even himself. Until he met you, he says. He tells you that in you, he’s found something to tether him to this existence.

Ok so maybe he didn’t use those words exactly, but he doesn’t have to. You know that’s what he means when he spoils you with expensive, stolen clothes and jewellery, when he offers to burn alive any person who makes you even the tiniest bit upset and when he comes home to you bloodied and beaten, trusting you to take care of him.

In summary, your relationship forced you to give up on having any “normal couple” experiences. That included, celebrating anniversaries and silly holidays like Valentine’s Day so you never bothered to keep track of them. It could hardly be considered a sacrifice when you compared those things to what you actually got from your relationship.

Dabi had been gone for close to a month now and you didn’t expect him back anytime soon, not knowing where he was or what he was doing. In fact the very last thing you expected was for him to creep into your bedroom in the middle of night and rouse you from your peaceful sleep with a soft kiss on your temple.

You don’t jump out of bed in a panic, like any sane person would. Instead you let out a satisfied hum, surrounded by the scent of burnt flesh, ash and menthol, feeling warmth bloom in your chest. It should be unpleasant but its Dabi’s scent and you’ve missed it. You’ve missed him. You pick your phone up from your night stand, squinting your eyes at the bright light that makes them sting.

Sunday 14 February, 2:43am

“Welcome home.” You mumble groggily, trying your best to fight off your tired body urging you to go back to sleep.

Instead of replying, he greets you by pressing his mouth to yours. You let out a quiet gasp, startled by the sudden display of affection. His lips are chapped but that doesn’t matter, your tongue darts out to moisten them before your lips lock into a gentle kiss.

You reach up, weaving your hands through his dark hair in an attempt to draw him closer but he retreats, opting instead to turn on the bedside lamp but keeping his other hand behind his back. “Sit up doll. Got a surprise for ya.”

Any thoughts of sleep were long forgotten as soon as his lips met yours but now he’s really piqued your interest. You push yourself up against the headboard and sit cross-legged. You look up at Dabi expectantly. Your boyfriend is smiling wide, skin pulled so taut you think one of his staples might give out. He reveals to you what he has hidden behind his back. A square black box, wrapped in a cobalt satin ribbon.

It’s so cliché you can’t help but let out a small snort. “What is it?”

“It’s a gift. You know… for Valentine’s Day?” He says as though it should be obvious to you.

Your heart swells at the gesture. It really was a surprise. Not in a bad way, you just knew he wasn’t your average boyfriend and that was okay. You didn’t want him to be.

“Well now I feel awful. I didn’t get you anything.” You pout as he props the box onto your lap.

“’S like a toy… so it’s technically for you but kinda for both of us.” It’s unusual to see Dabi this excited. The way he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes filled with mirth makes you all the more curious.

“Like a sex toy?” A giggle escapes you as you undo the bow.

“Are we playing fuckin’ 20 questions? Just open it.” He presses you.

You huff at his impatience but you don’t comment, not wanting to wait any longer either. You remove the lid of the box only to find something wildly unexpected.

A revolver?

You look up at your boyfriend with confusion etched on your face but his gleeful grin doesn’t falter. You’ve never seen a sex toy like this so you pick up the article to test its weight. It’s definitely the real deal.

“Dabi, this isn’t a toy.” You state matter-of-factly.

He merely rolls his eyes and says “Doll, when you can incinerate someone with a flick of your wrist, that little thing is definitely considered a toy?”

“O-okay? What do you want to do with it?” You ask, placing offending object onto your nightstand, not really wanting to hold on to it anymore, the metallic smell making you feel queasy.

“Ever heard of Russian Roulette?” Dabi, picks up the abandoned item, looking down at it with pride.

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows as nervousness starts to creep into your system and you instinctively move to back away from him but Dabi is quick to pull you back.

“It’s real easy doll. No need to look so scared.” He crawls on top of you, caging you in with his limbs. “6 chambers. 1 bullet. All you have to do is be a good girl for me. If not, I pull the trigger and we see what happens.”

The look on his face is positively demented. Azure eyes wide and bright, patchwork face contorted into a a sinister smile, white teeth and silver staples gleaming in the dim light.

“Baby,” you hope the pet name will placate him. It usually does. “I don’t know about thi-“

CLICK

You let out a shriek as your body jolts in fear but you’re unable to move with his weight pressing on top of you.

“You see now doll?” He clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “You’ve gone and wasted a shot.”

Dabi climbs off of you and you’re left lying there with your heart hammering violently in your chest, body trembling, still reeling from the shock of what just happened. Reeling from the shock of what is happening

“You gonna listen now? Gonna be good?” Dabi prompts, rolling the gun around in his hand.

All you can do is nod as your eyes being to water. The uneasy feeling in your stomach only grows worse as your mind races with the possible things Dabi has in store for you.

“Good. Now strip.” He command and like a good girl, you obey.

Your arms feel like they’re made of lead, moving rigidly to take off your shirt (one of Dabi’s old ones). You can’t stop the tears from falling as you pull down your panties, fat droplets roll down your cheeks, desperately trying to swallow the sounds of your sobbing.

This can’t be happening. It’s Dabi. He wouldn’t hurt you. He promised you that.

“Oh cut the fuckin’ waterworks.” He snaps. “As long as you listen, you’ll be fine.”

You try to calm yourself with deep breaths, not wanting to irritate him any further.

When you turn to face him, he’s leaning back on his haunches, one hand resting on his thigh, the other lazily gripping the revolver. “Fair warning, I’m more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kinda guy. But you know that already.” He thumbs the cylinder, making it spin. “Now, touch yourself for me.”

Breathing is difficult. No matter how much you try, it’s like you can’t get enough air into your lungs. Thinking only of gun in your boyfriend’s hand, you still you bring your own hand between your legs, but you can’t concentrate, what with the dread taking over your body making it tough to have any control of your body. Your movements are stiff and apparently not up to Dabi’s standards.

He only scoffs before-

CLICK

You scream again, body nearly flying off the bed before you curl yourself up into a ball. The fright is enough to stop your heart. For a second you believe it has.

“Doll,” Dabi’s gruff voice brings you back to earth, reminding you that you’re very much alive and whether or not you stay that way is entirely up to him. “You’re ruining my surprise. Got it ‘specially for you and now you’re being a brat.” He quirks an eyebrow at you, almost like a challenge.

“So-sorry.-“ your voice breaks. “I’ll be good.”

You’re still struggling to comprehend how any of this is real. You thought you knew him. You thought he loved you. And here he is, treating your life like it’s a game. You can’t help but think that this is your own fault. You thought you were above everyone else, the exception to your boyfriend’s villain behaviour.

“Yeah?” His voice drops to a whisper. “Then show me.” He challenges you. Dabi slips off his t-shirt and moves between your legs to get a better view, pressing on your knees to split them apart.

Self-preservation kicks in. There is one way out of this alive and that’s doing what he says. You spread yourself even wider, showing him all of you. Your hands, glide over your smooth thighs, kneading the pudgy flesh as you get closer and closer your sex, teasing yourself the way he would. Your fingers find your clit and just a little pressure makes your eyes melt shut. Probably for best anyway. It makes it easier to imagine anything but this. You drag those fingers through your delicate folds, letting out breathy sighs as heat begins to bloom between your thighs.

You pretend, its Dabi’s touch. In your mind’s eye you see the two of you, limbs tangled with Dabi on top, resting his forehead against yours. It’s one of those nights where he wants to go slow. So slow that the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of is you bordering on torturous. It’s one of those nights where he wants to lay his head on your chest, mouthing at your breasts, laving your nipples with his wet tongue while you tell him, in that sensual voice that you love him, that he’s perfect, that he’s yours. Because it’s one of those nights, where everything feels like too much for him and the only person that he really has on his side is you.

It’s not long before you’re leaking. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, there’s a voice chastising you for being so easy for him… even now. There’s almost no resistance as two of your fingers, press into your entrance. Your fingers are no match for Dabi’s, they never hit all those deep, hidden spots that make you see stars but still, you start to move them slowly, brushing your thumb over your clit every so often.

“Look at me.” You feel his breath waft over your pussy.

Eyelids fluttering open and you meet his gaze. It stuns you a little and your hands come to a standstill. He is handsome, breathtakingly so, even though he thinks you’re lying whenever you when you tell him that. The way he stares at you, with love and adoration in his eyes, it’s almost like the fantasy you were just imagining. Almost like the fantasy you’ve been living in this whole time. It’s enough to make you forget the situation you’re in. Then the muzzle of the gun is pressed to your clit, snapping you back to reality fast enough to give you whiplash.

“Fucking slut.” He growls and smacks your hand away from your pussy.

You jerk as he starts to move it the gun circles over your sensitive nub and then dipping down to your tight slit to gather up your juices.

“All those fuckin’ tears but look how wet you are.” He says more to himself than you as he admires the way your slick leaves a sheen on the barrel. With his eyes trained directly on yours, his perfectly pink tongue pokes out to lick it clean, groaning at the taste.

The next thing you know his arms are wrapped around your legs, guiding them over his broad shoulders. He kisses you on your mons before his tongue begins greedily lapping at your hole. “Tastes so good doll.” He mutters with his nose pressed against your clit. He slips the wet muscle inside of you making you whine. You reflexively grab onto his black hair, tugging on the stands and he lets out a groan of approval. He moves up to your clit, circling it with his tongue before suckling on it. While he brushes just the tip of a finger over your cunt, making it clench around nothing while you desperately buck your hips, in an attempt to have it inside you.

The way he’s eating you out is almost romantic?

Or it would be, if it weren’t for the metal digging into your flesh.

“Doll,” He places a sloppy kiss on your clit, lighting dragging his teeth over the hood. “Want you to squirt for me.”

A lump forms in your throat. You can count on one hand the amount of times that has happened. You’re not sure of the odds that you’d be able to right now and it’s not a gamble you’re willing to take. “Dabi, I don’t think I can….”

CLICK

You thrash, screaming so loud it makes your throat burn.

Dabi still holds you open, keeping you in place. “I wasn’t asking.” He makes sure to maintain eye contact as he drops a fat glob of spit right on to your clit before diving face first into your cunt once again.

He pushes 2 of his long, lithe fingers into your tight entrance. It’s unexpected and you wince. He drags his right hand (the one holding the gun) up your torso, resting the muzzle underneath your breast, right over your racing heart. A reminder of what’s at stake. He envelopes your sensitive clit with his lips, moving his fingers in tandem with the suction. You’re consumed by desire as Dabi brings you so close to the edge.

“Dee-Deeper please.” Your pant out.

He smiles against your mound before complying with your request. “Right here?” His fingers press against that squishy patch deep inside you and your eyes roll back.

“Nnnggg yeah.” You’re barely able to mewl out. You dig your heels into his back and grind against his face, chasing your high. Dabi keeps hitting that spot with astonishing precision but you hold off for as long as you can, letting the pleasurable sensation build until the pressure in your core becomes unbearable. When it finally snaps because you can’t hold it anymore, your eyes squeeze shut, hands flying to his biceps and you dig your nails into the sinewy muscle. You gush around his fingers and all over his face. Dabi doesn’t move though, flicking your clit with his tongue repeatedly until you’re trembling and whimpering, pushing him away from your pussy. He finally relents, a pop echoing around the room as he lets go of you.

He gives you a predatory look, scared face and chest wet with the remnants of your orgasm. “You made such a mess baby but I’m glad you’re finally having fun.” He’s just as out of breath as you are but far more composed.

Your head is still fuzzy and limbs are still twitching but your boyfriend doesn’t let you recover. “C’mon, doll. My turn.” He begins to undo his belt, silver buckle clinking as he rushes to drag it through the loops of his jeans

You pull yourself on to all fours, now eye level with his crotch. He pulls down his pants and boxers in one go, his erection almost hitting you in the face.

“You’ve been lucky so far.” He taps the bulbous head of his cock on your lips, smearing your lips with the pre that dribbles out of it. “But I wouldn’t test it if I were you. Open.”

Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him. So long, thick and veiny. It’s disgusting actually, this Pavlovian response. He fucks you deeper, stretches you wider and makes you feel better than anyone ever had. You wonder briefly, if anyone ever could fuck you as good as Dabi.

You stick out your tongue and he slides himself between your lips, groaning as he pushes into your mouth, slowly, inch by inch. He fills your mouth completely and you shut your eyes, savouring the salty taste of him but you feel the muzzle press against your temple and making them shoot open. “Atta girl. Lemme see those pretty eyes.” He grunts as he plunges into your throat. You bob your head up and down his shaft, the hand at the back of your head setting a brutal pace. The room is filled with the sounds of you gagging and his hefty sac smacking against your chin.

“So good to me baby.” He tilts his head back, losing himself in the pleasure. The wet heat of your mouth surrounding him while your saliva leaks out, dripping down his balls. Dabi is big and heavy, stretching you so wide and making you jaw ache from the weight of him. You’re already lightheaded from the lack of air, no matter how much you try breathing through your nose. You don’t dare to complain though.

He pulls out of your mouth slowly, stretching a string of saliva from the head of his dick to your tongue that’s hanging out of your mouth. You pant like a bitch attempting to catch your breath. He doesn’t give you much time before he’s in your throat again, back to fucking your face.

“I love you so much. You love me?” He sounds so sweet, totally blissed out.

He stops thrusting and tilts your head up to look at him, blinking tear-clumped lashes. You try utter a ‘Yes, I love you.’ but with his shaft gagging you, it comes out all garbled. The muscles in your throat convulse around the deep intrusion. “You’d do anything for me right?” He asks, jabbing the muzzle even harder into your temple, finger resting lightly on the trigger. You nod, watching Dabi lose his composure bit by bit. “Yeah. That’s why you’re my girl.” He pushes himself even deeper inside you, making you finally take all of him, until your nose meets his pubic hair and holding you there. “Fuck.”

CLICK

“Hmmhhhhngggh” You squeal around him but you can’t pull off because of the grip he has on your scalp. When he lets you go you’re choking and coughing up a lewd mixture of spit and pre-cum.

“Wh- Why” You blubber, voice hoarse. You don’t understand. You were doing exactly what he asked. You were being good.

“Sorry baby. Felt so good, my finger slipped.” He doesn’t even try to hide his mischievous smirk. The fucker is definitely not sorry.

You want to beg him to stop this ridiculous game because you see now there’s no way you can win because Dabi doesn’t play fair.

He doesn’t give you the chance though, already shuffling off his bottoms all the way and propping himself up against the headboard. “C’mon pretty baby.” He tugs on your ankle. Wanna see you bounce on my dick.”

You clumsily position yourself atop his lap quickly, before you can even think about it. You know he doesn’t need a reason to pull that trigger but still, you don’t want to give him one.

He grinds his tip along your heat, piercings dragging across your clit over and over again. It’s something he does whenever you have sex, to rile you up. And just like all those other times, it’s working. Circumstances be damned. “Needa feel this hot little pussy. Give it to me doll.” He murmurs against the shell of your ear.

You nod as you lift yourself off of him to hover your dripping wet hole over his hard dick. You slowly squat down on onto him, the fat head stretching you out, burning with every inch you take. You mewl, making futile attempts to blink away tears. You get halfway before you have to stop, resting your hands on his shoulders trying to gain leverage. You’re outright crying now, wet droplets landing on Dabi’s chest.

“’S matter doll.”

I’m terrified. You yell in your head but stay silent, choosing to focus on relaxing your ever-tightening hole in order to take more of him.

“Oh, I know.” He coos, voice dripping with condescension. “’S too big for your tiny cunny.” He leans forward to kiss away the salty tears. “But you can take it. I know you can.” He cups your jaw, stroking your cheek with a calloused thumb. “You can do it for me”

You start to move slowly up and down, using gravity to force more of his monstrous cock inside you with shallow movements. You really are trying your best but that’s apparently not good enough for Dabi and he lets you know that by pressing the barrel of the gun into your stomach. You freeze, horrified, more tears start falling from your eyes. You open your mouth to beg him to just give you a little time. You’re trying.

“Quit being a baby and just take it.” He says before you even get the chance.

“I’m trying Dabi, please just-“

CLICK

He cuts off your plea. He’s not interested in your excuses.

The rotation of the cylinder sends vibrations through your abdomen. Amidst the shock, you release your grip on his shoulders and impale yourself on his shaft by mistake. The combination of the searing stretch and the blunt head of his cock kissing your cervix is so overwhelming that you collapse forward, head falling on to your boyfriend’s chest. You feel the rumbles of his chuckles while he’s quite literally splitting you open.

“See? Knew you could. Just needed a little scare. Isn’t that right.” He rubs your back as if to comfort you. He lets out a low whistle. “But looks like you’re all out of chances doll. Now bounce.” He gives you a spank with an inhumanly warm hand, making you squeal and leaving your cheek tender.

Your hands find purchase on his shoulders again. Dabi’s sapphire eyes are practically glowing, daring you to be stupid enough to defy him one more time.

You pull off almost entirely, keeping just his tip inside of you, before spearing his shaft into you again.

“Good girl.” When he praises you with that raspy voice makes you keen and desperate for more of it.

His hand snakes its way up your torso to cup one of your breasts. Your back arches, pushing into his scorching hot touch, forgetting momentarily about his other hand and what he’s holding in it. He gropes your chest, tweaks and twists at your nipples, leaving red, inflamed hand prints in his wake. You’re practically delirious with pleasure, babbling out incoherent streams of his name along with “yes” and “more”. All the while, he murmurs praises about how good you are and how much he loves you. It’s confusing and you can’t process any of it.

“Who owns this perfect pussy?”

“Dabi. Fuck. Dabi.” Your tongue lolls out of your mouth in the most obscene way, drooling down your chin. Your plush walls pulse around him as he hits that sensitive spot every time you sink down on him.

“That’s right it’s all fuckin mine. My pretty baby.” Dabi’s eyes are focus on where your two bodies are connected watching the translucent ring of your cream appear and disappear as you ride him.

“Preeeettyyy.” You slur and he laughs at how fucked out you are, brain completely jumbled between the fear, the pain and the bliss all combined into ecstasy.

“Doll.” He groans. “I feel ya squeezin’ me. You gonna cum?”

He’s right. You nod as you feel that coil tightening again, threatening to snap at any second. The man finally starts putting in work, pounding into you every time you pull off of him. Dabi abandons the gun in favour of playing with your clit, rubbing quick sloppy circles. “Yeah? Gonna cream and gush around me? Want you to baby.” He buries his head in the crook of your neck, sucking, biting and licking while he assaults your sopping wet pussy. “C’mon doll, please.”

With that you orgasm. He grabs your hips pulling you flush against his thighs, fucking you through your orgasm, rolling his hips up into you until your high finally subsides.

He doesn’t let you catch your breath before he’s got the revolver pressed hard underneath your chin. “Now make me cum.” You almost collapse but the harsh grip he has on your hair suspends you upright.

Your mind is so foggy and Dabi gives you a small smile, appreciating the perplexed look in your droopy eyes. But he’s not done with you yet.

“Hey.” You’re ripped from your daze, when he slaps you across the face, sending your head swinging to the side. “Don’t pass out on me now.”

“So-sorry! ‘M sorry!” You grovel as you slam your tired body down on his dick once again, trying to ignore the throbbing on your cheek, the ringing in your ears, and the ache in your battered cunt. You’re so sensitive from your last orgasm but you don’t have a choice and you don’t dare deny him anything. Your thighs are quaking and burning with every movement but your boyfriend is unimpressed.

“You can do better than that doll.” He lets out a bitter laugh, enjoying every second of tormenting you. “It’s like you want your brains splattered on the ceiling.”

You start crying again, shaking your head frantically. In the time that you’ve been with Dabi, you’ve learned certain tricks, you know he likes it, but in this panic/lust induced frenzy, you can’t remember any of them. Instead, you bounce, mindlessly on him while your gummy walls clench tighter around him every time he nudges at your a-spot. Your legs are going numb from all the effort and you plop down, limp onto his lap, taking him to the hilt.

Dabi tsks at you, reminding you that you can’t rest just yet. You swivel your hips, grinding your pelvis against his while he’s buried deep in your wet heat. You pray to whatever deity is listening that he’s getting close, you’re not sure how much more you can take.

“If I don’t bust in the next 5 seconds.” His hand finds your clit again, you grind across his fingers has you rock against him. “Bang!” He emphasises the word by bringing a heated palm down on your ass.

A choked sob bubbles at the back of your throat, making him snicker

Hands pressed to his chest, you ride him like a woman possessed, the last bits of adrenaline kicking in. Your sloppy cunt squelches every time you drive yourself down on his cock just motivating you to fuck him harder.

“Five.” He grits out.

“Dabi, please!” But you’re met with icy, apathetic eyes staring back at you, feeling the terror that the rest of the city does when they so much as hear his name.

“Four.” He rubs your already raw clit, faster and you can feel another orgasm building, much quicker than your last two.

Your body feels so heavy but you can’t stop moving, not unless you want him to- “Please cum!” You beg. “Need your cum.”

“Three.”

He starts to fuck up into you again with unforgiving force.

“Wh-Why?!” is all you can manage as your mind starts to fog up again, the need to come becoming all the more urgent.

“Two.” He ignores your question, transfixed on your tits bounce in his face. You’re getting close to your third orgasm of the night and it seems Dabi is determined to get you there.

You still can’t believe this is real. You never thought that Dabi would treat you like this. You were supposed to be special.

Or at least that’s what he told you.

Moreover, you can’t believe how your own body is betraying you. You can’t believe you’re actually going to cum. Again.

“One.”

You cry out his name one last time, unsure if it’s out of fear or pleasure. You dig your nails into his arms again, in a feeble attempt to ground yourself as you cum around him. The orgasm that rips through you makes it difficult for you to be sure of anything.

What you are sure of is the fact that there was no bang or bullet.

Just one last CLICK (practically drowned out by your screaming) and the sensation of Dabi’s hot cum flooding your womb. He has a bruising grip on your hips, gun now discarded, and he ruts up into to making sure to stuff your cunt absolutely full of him. He begins to laugh as he softens inside you.

Your head is still spinning but once you’re able to push yourself off of him, you can finally make sense of what just happened.

He was fucking with you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You yell, using weak and quivering arms to throw pillows at him while you cry so hard it makes you dry heave.

Your asshole of a boyfriend starts cackling, clutching his abdomen as if he just pulled the world’s funniest prank while your heart is beating so hard and fast you think it might break through your ribcage.

“You should have seen your face. You were so fuckin’ scared.”

You become nauseous, feeling bile rising in your throat as you come to a sickening realisation.

This is not your Dabi. This is the Dabi that the rest of the world gets to see.

Evil, sadistic, merciless. This is the real Dabi.

You attempt to scramble off of the bed to get away from him, feeling overwhelmed by the humiliation. But Dabi grabs your wrist and yanks you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms. A gesture you used to treasure but now it just made your skin crawl. “C’mon Doll you didn’t think I was being serious did you?”

You writhe in his hold, hitting against his hard, toned chest with pathetic fists. “Don’t be such a crybaby. It was just a joke.” He strokes your hair oh so tenderly. But you won’t fall for that again. Dabi is a villain through and through. You know that now.

It’s no use fighting him off though, all the fight in you is used up. You don’t know what else to do. So you do the easy thing: nuzzle your head into his chest, tremors rocking your body as you hiccup, while he holds you. That way you can pretend that you feel safe with him, just like you used to.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, doll. I love you.”

#dabi is just the worst huh #sorry about the angst i honestly don’t know how that happened #dark content #dark fic #mha smut #tw dubcon #bnha imagines #bnha smut #dabi imagine #dabi smut #dabi x reader #mha x reader #tw slapping #tw noncon #tw unhealthy relationship #tw gunplay #tw death mention

876 notes · View notes

writinginthedarkwood · 4 years ago

Text

Werewolf! Kirishimia Eijiro: A New Meaning to Golden Retriever Boyfriend.

Thank you so dearly for this request, it was so much fun to write. Prompt #16 “Not this again.” For the fictober event. If you have a request, please send me an ask I would love to write it.

No warnings, fluffy and cute.

"You've got to be kidding me, not this again." You looked down at your phone, a long paragraph typed up from your boyfriend Eijiro in the same format as last month. An excuse, an apology, canceling tonight's plans, and about two more apologies. Tonight he's claiming stomach issues, but you know the truth. You sigh and check your bank account. If he would just tell the truth you could tell him that it wouldn't be a problem for you to pay for the movie tickets tonight! He makes good money, he must really spend over his budget. He's so chivalrous and sweet, it might insult him to try and pay for things sometimes. You don't mind, if only he'd just open up.

You decide that enough is enough, you're going over there and you're going to put an end to the lying! He's going to let you pay for the date if you have to drag him out by his ears. You throw on the outfit you had planned for your date, cleaned up your hair and head down the street into the night air. Eijiro's house is just outside of city lines in the suburbs. He has a nice end lot with a large field behind it. You're so jealous of his view. You hop on the bus and ride with head phones on, listening to a playlist he made you. The bus can be a little scary at night, but nobody is on here except for you. It's kind of peaceful just listening to music and staring at the full moon. It's large and round face is staring down at you like a caring grandmother.

Another text pops up.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry I disappointed you. I have to get some sleep, I love you baby." You rolled your eyes. It's just past 10pm! You're not letting him sit and sulk in the dark alone all night. You resisted the urge to throw your phone into your bag in frustration. He is such a wonderful boyfriend 99% of the time, but he always seems like he's hiding a part of himself. What is it? A bad childhood? A gambling addiction? Is he secretly apart of the mafia??? The bus halted to a stop and left you outside of his neighborhood, you stomped all the way down the sidewalk to the end of the line of houses and stared at your boyfriends place. The porch light is off, but the lights are on inside. You know where he keeps the hidden spare key and jam it into the lock. You almost kick the door down as you shout for your boyfriend.

He was sitting on the couch, tying his shoe laces. He's putting on hiking boots this late? "Hey! You're awake!" You slam the door behind you and scold your red headed sweet heart. "Babe what are you doing here? It's almost midnight!" His voice is shaking. He nervously looks at the clock on the wall and stands up. "You have to go baby, I'm really embarrassed! My stomach is-" "Stop lying! Your stomach is fine!" You want to raise your voice and yell, but his giant puppy dog eyes are so cute. You jam a finger into his chest and scrunch up your mouth, doing your best to look irritated. "I knew I would get here and see you're not hunched over a puke bucket!" He put both hands on your shoulders and gently rubbed up and down on your arms. He's such a large man, he's practically a wall he's so solid. Yet he always has the sweetest touches, making sure to be so gentle with you. His callused finger tips brushed against your skin and gave you goosebumps.

It took every ounce of restraint in you not to fall right into his arms. "I'm sorry honey, but you really can't stay here tonight. I need you to head back home." He said hardly above a whisper. He kissed your forehead and you shoved his chest with all of your might. He didn't budge, but understood you wanted him away from you so he stepped back. "Oh I'm sorry, is your booty call on the way over and I'm interrupting?" You felt like someone had stabbed you right in the heart. It couldn’t be true, he has never showed any signs of being disloyal. You’re just tired and confused.

Eijiro looked panicked. "Oh god of course not! No, no its not like that I swear!" He swallowed you in his arms pushing your cheek against his pecks and kissing all over the top of your head. "There is nobody other than you, I could never even think of betraying you, you're my soul mate." He said between kisses. You wrapped your arms around him and snuggled in. His warmth overwhelming. "Well then what is it...?" You whined a bit, it's getting later and you want to just fall asleep in his arms. "Are you going to turn into a wolf at midnight?" You chuckled. His hand stopped running through your hair and he stiffened completely. You look up at him puzzled, he's staring down at you with a look of panic. "That's crazy why would you even say that?" He says all too seriously. You nervously laugh. "What's wrong? I was just joking. It's not like I really believe you're about to start howling at the full moon." Eijiro stared off into space, like his brain was loading and he couldn't think of what to say. "Right...?" You cocked an eyebrow at him. "It might be a little bit like that." He scratched his head.

You two sat in the quiet for a little bit. Every time he tried to elaborate he ended up getting caught up in his own words. You two sat awkwardly in his living room until its about 5 minutes til midnight. "I- I'm going to go to the bathroom." He quickly dismissed himself, running to his bedroom and shutting the door. You followed quickly after him. Is he insane? Does he really expect you to just sit out here while he hides pretending to shape shift to get out of movie night? He's obviously having a difficult time, maybe his money troubles make him feel emasculated? You softly tap on his bedroom door and it slips open. The bathroom door is closed shut with the light peaking out under the crack. You walk past his bed and dressers and hear weird scuttling sounds the closer you get. You knock again. "Hey honey, why don't you come out so we can talk about this? It's okay if you didn't want to go out because of money..." You leaned against the door. "It doesn't make you less of a man to let me pay sometimes." He's so wonderful, you don't think there could be any other reason why he can be so flakey.

The sound of shampoo bottles and shaving cream canisters falling to the ground startle you. "Babe are you okay?" You turn the door nob. The door flings open, a large shape tackles you, knocking you to the ground. You let out a large wheeze, the wind escaping your lungs. "What the fu-" Your face was assaulted with a large flat tongue, licking all over you. Slobber flew across the room as a giant red dog panted and whimpered as it gave you kisses. "You're a dog! Oh my god you're a dog!" You pushed your monstrous boyfriend off of you and took a good look at him. He's huge, and even a little scary looking. His fur is bright crimson and his eyes are a daring shade of yellow. But he sat there, panting like a normal dog. You waved in front of his face. "Are you in there babe?" The dog playfully nipped at your finger, trying to pull your hand into his mouth. "Hey! No bites!" You retracted your hand and held it close to your chest. His fangs are giant.

The wolf man got down low to the ground in the stance you've seen puppies do right before they-

He takes off, zooming across the floor and into the living room at full speed. Pictures that lined the hallway crash to the ground. You rush to your feet and chase after him. "Wait!! Down boy! Down!!" You shout. He's already on the couch, gripping a throw pillow between his powerful jaws and shaking it. Cotton stuffing flies across the room, coating the floor. "No! Bad Eijiro! Bad doggy!" You try to wrestle the pillow away from him and fail. He topples over you, knocking you back down onto the floor and taking off across the room again, this time to the kitchen. You tenderly rub your arm, you landed on it weird and it's a little sore. Another crashing sound prompts you to get up onto your feet and run after him. The trash can is toppled over on its side, trash strewn across the floor. His snout was pushing around the garbage, looking for something to swallow. "Are you kidding me? What is with you?" You grab the wolf by the scruff of his neck, and pull him to the other side of the room away from the trash. "You sit!" Eijiro whines and sits down, looking up at you with the saddest eyes. "Oh don't look at me like that. This is not what I thought a werewolf would be like." Eijiro's large head pushed against you, rubbing his face all over your stomach as you pet his head. "You just need to burn some of this energy off."

You can't help but love the silly thing. He is still your boyfriend, even if he is a little different than usual right now. He followed you down the hall, staying right by your side. He takes up most of the space, his large frame almost tipping you off balance with small bumps into your hip. You dug through a pile in his hall closet until you found an old baseball and plastic toy bat. Wow, he really needs to clean up his closet, you think to yourself. "Okay babe, let's go-" He looked up at you with all of the love in the world, hanging on your every word. You crack into a smile. "Let's go outside and play you big goof.

"The two of you trampled through the tall grass behind Eijiro's house, he seemed to use little to no effort at all. His massive paws stomping down the weeds like it's nothing. You decided you were far enough away from the neighbors and took a strong stance. You haven't hit a ball in ages, but this plastic bat is wide and should make it a little easier on you. The baseball flew high into the air, you focused and swung the bat, smacking the ball across the field. Your wolf ran, faster than any animal you had ever seen after the small object, passing it and having to loop around with a terrifying pin point turn. He grabbed the ball off of the ground so quick you barely saw the motion, and in a flash he was back at your feet. You could do nothing but shake your head and laugh. "Are you kidding me? You're amazing!" Eijiro looked pleased, so you scratched his neck fluff.

"Alright let's see if I can hit it a little farther."

Again, and again, and again he chased the ball across the field and back happily dropping the ball at your feet. He only made you wrestle for it once, he could probably keep the ball away from you forever with those intense muscles, but that's not as fun for him. Seeing how pleased you looked when he brought it back was filling the beast with all the pride in the world.

Eventually your arm got tired, and he seemed to have about run out of energy too. He laid down in the field and looked up at the moon. You laid your head on his stomach, the rhythm of his breathing so comforting. You just talked to him, venting about life and how weird things are in the city now. You found yourself thinking about how a simple bus ride was starting to feel too far away from him at this point. "I know you don't really understand me right now, but I really love you. I know we've said it before, but I love you. I think you're my forever person." He was laying on his paws, looking up at the starry sky. "I know you felt like you had to hide this from me, but it doesn't scare me, or weird me out." You talk quietly and close your eyes, snuggling deeper into his fur. "If I have to come throw a ball for you once a month, I'll do it. I've got friends that deal with way worse with their boyfriends." You smirked, thinking you're pretty funny. That'll make Eijiro laugh in the morning, you'll save that for later.

The rising sun burned your eyelids, scaring you awake. You hadn't meant to stay out here for the rest of the night, but it was so late and he was so comfortable. He's much more familiar to you now, he slept peacefully as you rested on his chest. He looks worn out, but the two of you can't stay out there forever. You gently tap his face. He popped one eye open and looked around. "Oh man!" He gasped and looked down at his hands and feet. "I'm so stupid! You could get sick staying outside all night!" He put a hand on your face and cupped your chin. "Are you alright my love?" He asked with the soft voice only you get to hear. "Yeah I'm fine. How are you feeling?" "I feel fine. I'll be a little more hungry today, but it's no big deal." He looked down at the ground with a sheepish smile. "Thanks for staying with me all night." "Aw come on, it's no big deal. You're... a good boy." You teased while ruffling his hair.

"Hey!"

My Ko-Fi -> https://ko-fi.com/writinginthedarkwoods Please send spooky requests!

#fictober21 #my hero fanfic #werewolf kirishima #bnha fluff #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine

258 notes · View notes

maximov-widow · 4 years ago

Text

You just need to feel it

Pairing: Natasha x Fem Reader

Warning: Language, fluff, angst

Summary: Being hidden away from the Avengers definitely brings curiosity when you are accidently discovered by one of them.

Word count: 5.6k

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Being one of the most rich people in the world daughter, definitely has its own benefits along with flaws, one of them being that when people heard your surname they instantly think you are the most spoiled kid on earth, when in reality you practically don't even know your parents.

People think you overexaggerate, like how can you not know your parents? But it's the truth, at a young age you have been practically given up to Tony Stark, he is intelligent and has his weakness when it comes to sponsoring his businesses to which your parents agreed to with one condition.

That Tony takes you as they never had time in the world to babysit you, so Tony became the father figure you always lacked. He taught you many things along with his passion of building, with each lesson you become better which is why you are currently working for Tony.

You practically have the same knowledge as him so when he is busy or needs another person's perspective he asks you to help and you do it with gratefulness.

When your parents noticed that you are starting to become a potential, they asked Tony to keep you discreet but would regularly check up on you, not that they would even try to interact with you but you didn't really care.

You were fine with Tony being the only father figure, soon when Pepper came into Tony's life, she was like the mother you always dreamed off, she always supported you and loved spending time with you when Tony was busy with his meetings.

Since you were stuck in the same place at all the times, you wanted to explore but you were forbidden from doing so, you knew no one could find out about you or Tony could get into big trouble with your parents.

You heard of the Avengers and their work, but you and Tony were behind the inventions so they could succeed against enemies three times their size.

It would've been one of those days where Tony would disappear from the team and spend some of his time with you, catching up or helping you with studying.

You was sat at your desk, the room was connected to the lab where you and Tony would come up with creations, the lab had a window that was tinted so only the person inside could see outside of it which was useful, as you could watch people walk past and no one would know you are even there.

The room of course was filled with things that could never bore you but it did bore you. You couldn't leave anywhere because if there was a picture leaked, your parents would be furious, so you were basically locked like Rapunzel but you couldn't escape.

"How are you, kid?" Tony asked as he walked inside the room, taking a double look in the hall to make sure no one saw him.

You nodded as you looked at him "Like any person who is locked inside a room their whole life"

He laughed a little as he made his way towards you "I'm sure it is very entertaining"

"Yeah, I'm so entertained as you can see" You pointed towards your books.

He sat on the desk as he leaned over to see what you were studying "Biology? What's so fascinating about that?"

You rolled your eyes, you would think someone like Tony would be somewhat interested in facts about science "It's interesting, like the human body has 12 systems. Don't tell me this isn't impressive?"

He smiled at you "You need another hobby, kiddo"

You playfully rolled your eyes "And you need to let me explore this building"

His smile fell a little, he knew that this is inhumane to keep you in a room locked and no one could find out about you "Under different circumstances, that would be possible"

You stood up from the chair as you kept your gaze on him "I know, it's okay though, as long as you keep hanging around I'm sure I will be fine"

He nodded slightly with a sad smile "If it only was up to me, you would be able to just walk freely"

"I don't understand, why don't they just let you adopt me, they barely even talk to me, you have been more of a parent to me than they ever were"

He looked at you, he always cared about you, even if you weren't his daughter by blood, he always considered you as one along with Pepper "I wonder that as well.."

The silence started to settle but he cleared his throat, throwing one of his famous smiles and pulling you into him with his hand over your shoulder as he walked towards the lab "I started to come up with this prototype and then I noticed something and I wanted to ask you about it"

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

The time with him went by so quickly, he didn't even notice that he was gone for so long, he gave you a hug which was something that was so foreign to you until he took you, you still wasn't used to it especially since you barely received them but you grew fond of them.

The team started to get suspicious of Tony's disappearances, at first they thought he was sneaking off to see Pepper but that went out of the window when she walked into the Avengers tower and asked about him, indicating that she had no clue where he was.

They wanted to find out what he has been doing all that time, they checked every room they could possibly think off, but it came back short. They even asked Friday but that programmed thing always gave the same answer 'It's confidential' which only just fuelled the team.

Correction; Most of the team, by most that was Sam, Bucky, Thor and Natasha and the rest didn't really care until the four never came up with any explanation to why Tony had to disappear.

Steve only took interest when Sam really insisted and came up with some theory that Tony has a second woman on the side with a whole family, obviously there was no evidence to support that.

"I still think Wanda should look into his head" Thor came back with some sort of drink in his hand as he reclaimed his seat.

There was a slight laugh "There is no way I'm doing that, I respect that man too much, you guys are on your own"

All of them looked towards Wanda who heard Thor and they just sighed knowing that she won't do it, no matter how much they would beg.

"Natasha is a spy, can't she like follow Tony one day and just see where he always wonders off to?" Wanda asked as she sat down next to Steve who was scribbling something down on his notepad.

Sam and Bucky looked at each other with a slight smirk as they both looked at Natasha, who already knew that there would be no way out of this "Natashaaaaa..." Sam dragged her name out in an attempt to get to her " The witch is right, just follow him, you are like a super sneaky spy."

Natasha rolled her eyes as Thor spoke up again after taking a sip of his drink "That could save us a lot of time"

Natasha looked at Wanda who had a small smirk across her lips "You welcome" The witch mouthed which caused a glare to be thrown her way from the Russian.

She eventually agreed, especially when they would follow her everywhere, annoying her until she would crack. The famous black widow for once didn't threaten her team mates since she was as curious as them.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

She has been following Tony all day, sneaking around, hanging from the ceiling and just watching his every move, she was close to giving up but that's when she noticed a door appear from the wall, from the outside it looked like any wall but that's where you would be with Tony all the time.

Tony looked around and walked inside and then the door disappeared. Natasha, feeling of satisfaction washed over her, had a smirk across her lips, finally that's where he has been hiding all this time.

She expected, some embarrassing place where Tony stored away his secrets that she could tease him about, so when he walked out again couple minutes after, she took the opportunity and snuck inside the room.

She was slightly disappointed when she just found a lab but her eyes caught a movement from the opened door, across from where she was, she quietly made her way there as she looked around. It was just a bedroom with a lot of fun stuff.

She observed you as you was sat on your bed with a book in hand so she decided to speak up "Now who can you be, gorgeous?"

Natasha never failed to notice how attractive you were, the way your hair would be pushed behind the both of your ears, in her eyes you looked young but old enough.

You jumped up from the unfamiliar voice, eyes fixated at the redhead in front, you knew this was bad, she shouldn't be here and now that she has seen you, this will only be a big problem.

Just like you jinxed Tony walked in and his eyes widen at the sight of the redhead "Romanoff what the hell are you doing here?"

She eagerly span on her hill as she faced him with a smirk "So that's where you have been hiding out"

"How did you even get in?" He narrowed his eyes as he looked at you, you looked clueless as well.

"The door closes too slow, I just walked in. But who is that?" Natasha simply explained but her attention changed towards you with a smile.

He stood in front of her as he covered you "That's not your business, you shouldn't even be here-"

Natasha walked around, making her way towards you as she extended her hand towards you "I'm Natasha but you can call me Nat, sweetheart"

Her attempt at flirting with you only irritated Tony "Romanoff, I swear if you don't take a step back from her, you'll regret it" He tried to stick to his threat but Natasha knew him too well.

You looked at Tony "Dad, does that mean am I in trouble?"

Natasha's eyes widen as she repeated what you said "Dad?!"

Tony rolled his eyes and looked at you with a small smile "Of course not" His eyes darted back to Natasha "But she will be"

You would be lying if you didn't think that some of the Avengers were pretty good looking, you never was in a relationship for obvious reasons but there would be times you would imagine yourself in one, not that you knew much about them but the films and books seem to give you some sort of an idea.

Natasha mumbled as her eyes narrowed "Maybe Sam was right about you having a secret family"

"Secret family? Have you guys been creating some sort of theories about me? What the hell are you guys doing?" He sounded more than irritated.

"Does Pepper know about you having a secret daughter?" She asked with her arms crossed.

Natasha might have been viewed at scary and unlovable for not more than her body but that doesn't mean she didn't have her own view on some subjects, she just never voiced them.

"She knows-" He paused as he huffed from irritation "I don't have to explain myself to you"

You watched as your eyes darted from one to another as they spoke so you decided to interrupt them "I'm trying to read..."

Natasha's gaze fell on you, she had a small smirk playing across her lips "You know that bed looks more than comfortable-"

"Out!" Tony shouted over Natasha as he pointed towards the exit, she finally given in and with a smirk she walked out and Tony followed but not before he sent you an apologetic look.

They both made it to a private room, out of hearing from anyone. Tony leaned on the door as Natasha stood not far from him, he sighed with a defeated look "Can you keep this to yourself? I will pay you or something"

The redhead with a hint of genuine emotion "You don't have to pay me, I will keep this to myself you don't have to worry but"

He dread that 'but', he knew there was a catch, Natasha continued "Who is that?"

He pushed himself off the door and sat on the table as he looked at Natasha "It's not my place to say, but her parents decided to give her to me and here she is, no one can know so just make up a lie or something"

He seems upset in a way and just like that walked out of the room and went back to you, Natasha's eyes followed him as she felt a little guilty for invading his privacy.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

Everyone from the team apart from Tony were waiting for Natasha to return with some hopeful news. She wasn't expecting literally everyone to be tuned in.

She was taken back as she made it into the living room, they were waiting with excitement written all over their faces "So?" one of them spoke up.

The redhead crossed her arms as she raised her eyebrows perfectly "You guys just sat here and waited for me to come back?"

They shrugged and just said 'yes' which just made Natasha shake her head at their nosiness "Well I found nothing, he was busy with his meetings all day." She paused as they all groaned "Maybe there literally is nothing"

Wanda tilted her head at Natasha, she knew she had an advantage over the team, especially if they tried to lie, so when Natasha excused herself the witch took the opportunity to follow her.

"Wait up, Natasha" Wanda spoke from behind her as she caught up to her.

She turned to face Wanda as she raised her brows at her "What's up?"

Wanda looked around and with a swift motion, pushed them both into a room that wasn't familiar, from the sudden move it caused Natasha to slightly gasp from shock as this wasn't what she expected.

"What the hell Wanda!"

Wanda looked with an innocent smile "Sorry, I just wanted to be out of range of everyone"

"Why?" Natasha simply asked, not sure to why Wanda suddenly wants to talk.

"What did you find out?" The witch didn't beat around the bush, she came out with it straight away.

"I'm not sure what you are referring to?" The Russian tried to play dumb.

Wanda rolled her eyes "You might be able to fool them but remember I can still read your mind"

Natasha sighed as she crossed her arms and leaned on a little table that was behind her "Not much, there is hidden room where he keeps some girl who claims to be his daughter, the thing is that is definitely not his daughter. You can't say anything, he asked me not to and I'm only telling you because I don't want you to go inside my head"

Wanda liked the fact that she was somewhat feared by the Widow, she powerful but she would never try to hurt her team mates; scrap that, her family so she just nodded.

"We have a new addition!" Wanda clapped her in excitement "If you need help or anything, I'm here"

Natasha smiled at the witch and nodded and thanked the witch, they both went back to what they were doing; Natasha coming up with a way to find out more about you and Wanda went back to pity the boys.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

It was one of those days for the team, where there would be no missions as Stark had a lot of business stuff to take care off with his company. He needed someone to keep an eye out for you, he would've asked Pepper but she was busy for that day so the only person that popped in his head was Natasha.

He walked into the area where everyone had their own get together to just relax after a chaotic week, he spotted the redhead sipping on beer "Looks like everyone is getting comfortable today"

They looked at Tony who was in a suit rather than something more comfortable "Shame you can't spend it with us" Steve spoke first, he was the only one who wasn't exactly drunk but he wasn't sober either.

Tony shook his head as he smiled "Well, nothing I can do unfortunately. Which reminds me, Romanoff I have a mission for you actually"

The team groaned at his words, Natasha was really liked as she would be able to drink so much and not get drunk, she would barely even reach the drunk state, so having her attend a mission made the team a little moody.

She nodded as she finished off her beer and stood up to follow Tony, she remembered not having any missions, she always double checks so she is never behind anything.

"What mission?" Those were the only words that left the Russian.

Tony sighed, knowing that this is the only way out "I need you to keep an eye out on that room"

The redhead crossed her arms as she listened to him "What do you want me do?"

He handed her a card "I want you to be causation, in case something happens and I'm not here. Do not go in there and disturb her, she has some stuff to do"

Natasha nodded as she looked down at the card "This is to open the door?"

He nodded and smiled at Natasha as he reached for her shoulder and squeezed it "Good luck"

Natasha watched Tony disappear and sighed, she never was the one to break rules but she really wanted to hang out with you, there was something about you that pulled her in and there wasn't a waking second that she wouldn't want to spend with you.

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

The Russian did as she was told, she kept an eye out for the room and observed it in a distance to make sure that everything was okay, it was quite boring, but she had her phone to occupy her time, she received some messages from Steve and Sam, showing her what she was 'missing'.

She was going to reply until she heard footsteps, she peaked and saw you with a hood up, waiting for the elevator to come, she smirked as she leaned on the door frame "Where do you think you're going, gorgeous?"

You didn't jump this time, you looked over at her and rolled your eyes as you whispered "Are you stalking me or something?"

The Russian crossed her arms, she knew what to do "Wouldn't you like to know!"

You raised your brows at her shouting, it would attract attention of people close by, meaning you would be spotted, so you marched your way towards her as you walked inside where she was camping out to hide.

"Can't you be quiet?" The way you spoke to her as if you knew her would straight away be a death wish for you but somehow you wasn't scared of her.

She looked out to see if anyone was coming and closed the door behind, trapping you inside with her "I could've been if you were nicer"

You sighed defeatedly as you looked down "Right, I'm sorry.." by the time you were done speaking, you looked up at her as she was analysing you.

"Where were you going to go?" She asked with no hesitation in her tone, she was a little different to the people you met, she wanted to find out why you did what you did rather than punish you straight away.

"I wanted to just leave that room, I never have the chance to do that and I thought today was my chance but" You paused as you eyed her "Clearly not"

The redhead felt hot as you eyed her but she hid it well "Okay, come with me"

You raised your brows at her but smiled as you put your hood up and you followed her like a puppy, you didn't know the place and if the worlds most deadly assassin was going to take you around, you knew it would be best to stick with her.

The two of you made it to the roof top, you never went anywhere your whole life, always stuck in that room or met your parents in some plain white meeting room to discuss what would be best for you.

As you stood near the door, you looked around to see the city and how beautiful it was, it was the first time you saw anything that pretty, usually you would only stare at one view from your room and that eventually got boring.

The Russian chuckled at you and made her way towards the edge of the building, placing herself on the floor, you did join her but sat a little further away from the edge.

You looked down and saw multiple cars go by but from far they looked like toys, the way you observed everything melted Natasha's heart, she never witnessed anyone being so happy whilst looking down a huge tall building.

Natasha shook her head a little with a small smile which caught your attention "What you smiling at?"

She looked at you with the same smile "I never seen someone be so happy whilst looking down to potential death" She teased a little.

You looked away from her and bluntly responded "If you were locked inside a room for your whole life, things like this would amuse you as well"

There was a pause in between, the Russian tried to come up with something to say without wanting to invade your privacy "How did you not go insane?"

You laid down on your back as you stared at the stars above "Hope"

You replied with one word which only interested Natasha even more "Hope for what?"

"For this.." You pointed up at the sky and she understood. You hoped one day you'll be able to just walk around.

She took a deep breath as she laid next to you and looked at your side profile "Why are you not allowed to leave that room?"

You looked at her, meeting her eyes trying to embed into your memory the way her eyes looked at you "Because that's my life"

"Surely Tony wouldn't be this cruel to not let you leave his side" She spoke trying to crack you a little bit more.

You chuckled "No, Tony is the best father figure you could ask for. It's just that my parents have a tight hold over him and if I mess that up, they will literally lock in inside a prison or something"

Natasha's eyes never left your face, it was like she was in some trance "So Tony isn't your biological dad?" The redhead asked, she knew that he wasn't but she wanted to know more from you.

You shook your head from side to side "I wish, he has been more of a parent to me than my own ever were"

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to" Natasha stated softly, making sure you didn't think she was forcing you.

You gave her a smile "I know, but you seem like you want to know unlike everyone else"

She frown at your answer "What do you mean? People don't listen to you?"

You shook your head "Nope, no one cares either"

"I do" It was the most quietest 'I do' you ever heard.

"You are the only one"

She was quiet as she was processing your words, so you continued "My parent's never actually cared about me, but I don't really care, what I care is that they locked me and don't allow me to do whatever I want"

"You talk about your parents as if they are really powerful, who are they?" She asked curiously, not to be nosy but to know more about you.

You looked away, scared about the judgement from her "My name is Y/n Y/l/n"

She looked at you with disbelief "So you're the spoiled kid of the Y/l/n family?" She asked with a surprised tone.

You knew this would happen, the news never shut up about you and your weird disappearance so you nodded and she sat up from the disbelief "That's bullshit, you don't seem to be spoiled"

You raised your eyebrows at her "Am I not? Have you not seen my room?"

She rolled her eyes "Well do you expect to be locked in a room with just a bed and couple books? I think that's a reasonable room for someone who has been forced to stay in it"

You sat up as you listen to her defend you as if she knew you, so you simply smiled "Thank you"

She looked at you as her emotions were quick to cool down "For what?"

"For taking me here and listening to me, I never had friends before, to be fair I never met anyone near my age" You nervously played with your fingers as you admitted it to her.

She smiled as she stood up and extended her hand towards you so she can help you stand up "Well we aren't done.. that's if you still want to hang with me"

You took her hand as she pulled you up "Please, anything to not spend another minute in that room"

She smiled as the both of you slowly started to walk towards the exit of the roof "If you want, there is a small get together with the Avengers, we can tag along with them"

You looked at her side profile this time, if you didn't have to reply to her, you would most likely be speechless by her beauty "Do you think they will know who I am?"

She waved her hand dismissively "Don't worry, I will put them back in their place if they say anything rude"

⸻⸻⋙☸⋘⸻⸻

And that's how it started, you both attended the get together, you met wonderful people and for the first time in your life you tried alcohol. The team was more than happy to have you in their circle and shortly they learnt who you were, it wasn't possible to hide anything from them plus you were on the news practically all the time but they never judged you but more opposite, they loved you.

Thor even called you Lady Y/n and you really liked it, they treated you like any other person and you could've been more grateful for that, Natasha walked you to your room and stayed until you fell asleep, she stayed to ensure that you would actually fall asleep but also to watch as you slowly relaxed every muscle in your body.

From that moment, she only started to fall for you even more, the more you opened up the more she was in awe at how brave you had become but it was the moment when you stood up to your parents in front of her that she realised she really likes you.

It was one of those days where she sneaked inside your room and you loved it, the two of you would spend time watching movies that she loved and movies that you loved, or watch movies the both of you hated and just made comments on it.

You gotten comfortable around Natasha and she respected you like you respected her, you wasn't sure whether what you felt was friendly or romantic, your heart would always skip a beat when her arm would brush against yours or when she laughed so hard at something you said and she gripped your arm or hand it just made you miss her touch after.

"I don't understand why they even go towards that stupid sound, I would turn around and just walk off" You commented as you were irritated at the scene on the TV.

The Russian chuckled slightly "That's because you are a wuss, of course you would run away"

You rolled your eyes at her as you looked over "Please, as if you wouldn't. Just because you are THE Black Widow, it doesn't make you less of a human"

She looked over at you curiously "So you're saying everyone would be scared?"

You nodded confidently "Oh for sure, if someone just barged inside here, you would jump for sure"

And that's what happened, someone DID barge in but it was someone you didn't expect, the way you gripped onto Natasha's body as if she would somehow make it disappear and the way Natasha held onto you as if she could make that disappear was more adorable.

"Y/n Y/l/n! What do you think you're doing!" The voice spoke that was familiar yet at the time not really.

You felt a blush across your cheeks as you realised you were still holding into Natasha, you let her go and looked at her, she had a slight blush as well but she quickly looked away from you to mask the blush.

You stood up from your bed and walked over to where the voice was, it was your mother, she stood there with her arms crossed and that's when Natasha came out from behind you, she crossed her arms as she narrowed her eyes at the woman.

Your mother held the phone out as it displayed your newly social media "I don't see what's wrong Mother"

She huffed "You are unimageable disrespectful!"

Natasha raised her eyebrows at her, she understood what you meant now but you continued "No, I'm being respectful, it's you who barged into this room throwing a fit over a picture"

"You are doing this on purpose, you are trying to ruin our imagine! You must delete that now, this is unacceptable" She looked at the phone and at the picture, it was you with the team, the next picture was with Natasha as she leaned on your shoulder and made a cute little kissy pose.

You shook your head "No" it was all you said which caught Natasha off guard but she felt proud, so there was a smug smile across her lips as she observed the woman in front of her.

"Unbelievable" She paused as the redhead finally caught her eye so she pointed towards her "You are the one who corrupted my daughter"

Natasha's smile was gone as those words left her mouth so she decided to speak up "If she was your daughter you would treat her better"

You looked over at Natasha, the way her gaze was on your mother so firmly, make your stomach do flips "She never corrupted me, she was always here for me" She looked down at you with a smile that met her eyes, you looked at your mother "Unlike you or Father"

Her mouth dropped opened at your words, she never expected you to ever talk to her like that, so you continued "I'm old enough to decide for myself, so I'm no longer your daughter but Tony's, he adopted me and I will happily call him my dad and Pepper my mom, they deserve those names so if you don't like it, leave the same way you came in"

She was boiling inside as Natasha chuckled at her expression, she huffed and walked out not saying anything back, you let out a breath that you didn't even know you was holding and turned to face Natasha, a squeak came out of your mouth as you jumped into Natasha's arms.

She held you so tightly but you quickly pulled away realising what you did, you were still in her arms but just facing her "Oh god! This is bad, she will take revenge"

Natasha's voice always seemed to calm you "Hey, hey. She won't do that, Tony won't let that happen and frankly I won't either"

You always seem to be oblivious to Natasha's feelings towards you, she wasn't very open with them which is what caused your obliviousness. The both of you were scared of rejection but something with the way Natasha comforted you and held you tight against her, making you look down at her lips.

She caught on and with every courage that was left in her body, she leaned closer, before her lips reached yours you looked into her eyes "Thank you Talia"

She smiled as she kissed you, she finally did what she always wanted to do, she felt as if there was fireworks going off, the way butterflies would grow just at the touch of your lips, she loved it and she was intoxicated.

You were the first to pull away, resting your forehead against hers "I like it when you call me that"

A grin broke out on your face "Talia, Talia, Talia-"

She kissed you again, this time with hunger as she backed you into a wall, you tangled your hands into her hair as you matched her pace in the kiss.

Even if it wasn't long since you knew each other, the want and the need was stronger than self control for Natasha, especially when you did things like this.

"You really don't want to walk tomorrow" The way her voice was low and her eyes would fill with lust just at you teasing.

"I'm not sure I understand what that means"

Natasha smirked as her lips made their way towards your ear "You don't have to.."

"You just need to feel it" her lips latched onto your skin within seconds, causing a moan to escape your lips.

#natahsa romanoff #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha fluff #reader #marvel #the avengers #natasha romanov

396 notes · View notes

nincompoopydoo · 4 years ago

Note

Could I request a oneshot with Remus Lupin with the promt "kiss me so i can feel alive again". Also congratulations on 1000 followers 🎉✨💕

ALIVE AND TRUE

PAIRING: Remus Lupin x reader WORD COUNT: 2k (whoops) SUMMARY: Having found a lost friend, living in the countryside of Yorkshire, feelings of once hidden affection start to bloom in the need to be alive and good things to be real. A/N: Thank you for requesting and I’m so sorry for taking so long! This is one of my favorites because it’s so soft and romantic and I adore this request. Please tell me what you think of it xo. WARNINGS: Angst. support my writing through ko-fi💖 MASTERLIST

It’s the house you see from trudging down the walkway that forces you to double take your previous steps. Silent and empty, it seems to twist into the forest from afar. Bent trees adorn the lane with overgrown greenery at its feet and ancient brick walls that run along with it. The fields in Yorkshire are vast and immaculate but right now, you are alone and suddenly the far stretch of land doesn’t seem to have the shine of the countryside. Your eyes shift to the house that sits behind a rusted gate, joints barely holding together from the years of rotting and exposure to the heat and rain. It’s barely a house but more of a cottage. No, it’s not even a cottage. Semi-derelict and tumbledown, it looks more like the ruins of what used to be a home.

You look down to the note in your hand, parchment torn at the edges with the cursive words of your handwriting that make up an address and coordinates. Visually, there’s no indication of where exactly you are but according to the coordinates, you are precisely where you need to be. For the past three years, your investigation into finding your friend has proven to be impossible and almost met with the acceptance that you will never see him again. Yet, after an anonymous tip had been owled to your doorstep, indicating the suspicions of the presence of a werewolf somewhere in Yorkshire as overheard by the locals of a nearby town, gave you a tinge of hope to reconnect with someone you lost.

The sight bears a high chance that he may be hiding here, unfortunately. It makes it hard to believe that someone you saw had so much life in him, is living in this condition.

Anxiety starts to creep onto you as you push the worn-down gate. It creaks with the rustling of the wind, a sign of an imminent storm. The sun doesn’t shine anymore, clouds of grey congregate in the skies above in the chorus of rainfall. You don’t do too well with apparition, thankfully having only lost half of your hair during the war. Hence, if the anonymous tip turns out to be a fake, you would have to make your way out of the countryside in the rain or even worse, take the Knight Bus.

You hate the Knight Bus.

Attempting to conjure up whatever courage you have left, you steadily make your way into the compound, plodding through the overgrown grass. As you grow closer, the cottage looks even worse than it was from afar, climbing plants of dull green embellish the walls of the ruins.

Then, in your periphery, you catch a glimpse of violet—Bluebells. The same flowers that used to grow on the forest floor of the forbidden forest. You remember him telling you about how he had seen a white bluebell, rare to its nature.

Warmth fills your chest, you know he is here.

The door is wooden, climbing plants seem to have made their way to it, branching around its handle.

You knock once. No answer.

You knock twice. There’s footsteps, they’re heavy.

With the swing of the door, you are met with none other than Remus Lupin. He looks older, dark circles below his eyes that have lost their intensity of blue, hair unkempt and shabby, and a beard, tracing along his jawline. He has his wand directed to you in defense. Probably because no one ever visits.

The smile on your face is impossible to suppress. It's bright at the recognition of the familiarity of his face. “Remus,” you breathe, eyes crinkling and gleaming with the bliss from the effort and worth of your investigation to find this very man, who stands just a couple of inches away from you. You swallow, not wanting to blink away the possibility that this may all be a dream. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

He says your name through a whisper like it’s the answer to the millions of prayers recited and uttered from his lips as he drifts off to slumber under the moonshine, beaming through the shattered glass of the windows by his bedside. He dreams of you, often in times when his body is too weak to endure the aftermath of a full moon.

Yet, you're here and very real.

Then, he watches your grin falter and how your eyes move around the curves of his face. The deep cuts are there and visible. Although magic heals, time and energy play a crucial factor in healing wounds. In an instant, his apprehension creeps in, and suddenly, he feels small. The memories of you are forever intertwined with the rest of his friends, memories too painful to endure.

Your hand reaches out for his face but he staggers back in his step.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

He doesn’t mean it. Remus really wants you here. To feel your warmth, your touch, the smell of your hair and to hold you but he sees the way you bring your arm down to your side, shoulders slump in near defeat. In reality, you would never let him go that easily.

“Don’t say that, Remus.”

The crinkle of your eyes is gone, now sharp with the frustration of his tendency of locking himself away from the world out of paranoia. It’s been a minute since you’ve seen his face after three long years and he’s already trying to chase you away.

Typical Remus.

An odd sense of nausea takes over him, knees buckling as his surroundings begin to spin like he is on a sailing boat at sea. His body is frail and with a blow, he will fall. His eyes are trained on you as he feels his feet give way and his body drifting towards the ground. Just then, he feels your touch, arms around him like an embrace. You’re holding him in his weakened stance, stabilizing his balance by moving his arm to hang around your shoulder. He immediately shifts his weight on you, uttering a soft apology.

“You don’t have to apologize for something you can't control.” Your voice is soothing, speaking so close to his ear. Your tone is laced with knowing and care. You both know those words have been articulated from your very lips many times before. And your hands are gentle upon the curve of his waist, against the rough material of a dress shirt but your grasp is strong—the true touch of a healer’s hands, precise and careful. Remus always knew you would turn to become a highly-skilled healer.

With every cautious step, the creaks of the parquet flooring are loud and lasting. It’s as if the house itself cries for its condition, like a child with a wound to their knee after taking a nasty fall. The wailing wind outside doesn’t help with the fact that everything seems to be falling apart.

You guide him to the armchair by the fireplace, pressing him by the shoulders to sit. He plops onto the chair with a heavy sigh and feels a sense of regret sinking in his chest at the sight of the visible scowl of your lips and the turn of your brows.

Your open palm finds his cheek. He hears the drag of your deep exhale. You don’t say anything, only to pull out your wand from your back pocket. Yet, Remus is quick to grab your hand, halting you in your movement. Your frown a little deeper, sharp eyes finding him.

“Just let me heal you. It’s the least I can do.”

It’s a promise, a vow, uttered from your very lips filled with dignity and hope. So, he lets you, just to feel you close to him.

—

The rain is yet to arrive. Thunder booming through rolling clouds above and still not a single drop of rain but there’s a peak of sunlight between the cracks of the storm. Maybe, it’s because you’re here and sunshine always seems to trail your steps, no matter where they lead.

Now, Remus is seated on the toilet seat facing you, who has settled for a shaky stool to perch on as your gentle hands hold the edge of his jaw while the other grips onto a straight razor, gazing along the cheek. He cannot take his eyes off the crease between your brows and the way your eyes slowly shift along with the moving blade.

Magic is meant for convenience in small but necessary tasks like these yet you insisted on doing it in the traditional muggle way—using your fingers. Your hands work wonders, beautifully moving as a paraclete. You hold him like you’re maintaining his strength, to keep from fracturing into pieces. You look at him like he’s your masterpiece, carving every curve and bend of his skin and structure.

You lift the blade away from his face, dabbing it onto a rag cloth hung by the sink. Remus finally finds the time to speak. “You don’t have to do this.” You simply laugh and it comes out like a puff of air. Your eyes are still trained on cleaning off the razor. “Of course, I don’t. But, I also don’t want you competing with Dumbledore’s beard.”

Remus laughs, truly laughs. It’s loud and echoes within the walls of the tiny toilet. “I could never beat him.” You’re laughing too, grin wide as ever. Then, after a beat of silence, your grin suppresses into a small smile, lips pressed together as you place the razor aside. You’re clearly in deep thought.

“Come away with me.”

Remus blinks. “What?”

You turned to him, eyes glinting with expectancy. “Stay with me. I live a few blocks from St Mungos...and you get to see me at work.” You watch how his mouth is now agape, half of his chin still in shaving cream.

“And I’m sure you look magnificent in green but you know I can’t—”

“You can, Remus. You can come here a week before the full moon and then come back to my place. I’ll help you heal, a lot faster and you know that’s true. Maybe, I could get hold of aconite for Wolfsbane at the hospital— ”

You hadn’t realized your rambling until Remus began to shake you by the shoulders, calling out your name with an odd sense of serenity and hint of urgency for you to stop. So, your words immediately halt with a turn of your head to meet his gaze. Your expression is soft. His hand drifts to yours, holding it in his. “You know I can’t because if they find out you are living with someone with lycanthropy, you will lose your job and I don’t want you to lose it for my sake,” he squeezes your hand with assurance. “But, thank you. Thank you for always being so kind to me.”

The candle flickers from behind you, sitting idly on the ceramic shelf above the sink. No sunlight beaming through the room and only the hues of flame, beginning to shrink with the melting of its wax. Your hair presents an illusion of golden threads against the candlelight, face as warm as your hand on his as you shift your fingers to the back of his palm. Gradually, you sigh whilst raising his palm to you and press your lips to the arch of his hand. It’s quick but affectionate.

Your stare is strong and his heart stutters for the millionth time since your arrival.

Remus is drawn to you and the thought of how your lips should be on his. He drifts closer, eyes roaming your face, feeling your breath against his skin.

“Can I kiss you?” your question is soft, a whisper, only for his ears. A secret so sacred that you’re afraid nature would hear the words of your confession that was solely reserved for your mind and the man you are confessing to. He nods, it’s slight but it’s true, feeling like this is all a dream. He doesn’t want you to dream anymore. For you are here, hand tangled in his, thinking about his lips on yours.

Then, he whispers as the candle flickers once more. “Kiss me so I can feel alive again.”

So, you do. You kiss him, gentle and sweet, your hand still in his.

#happy 1000!#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black #remus lupin x you #remus lupin imagine #the marauders #marauders #harry potter #harry potter imagine #marauders x you #marauders imagine

251 notes · View notes

houdinicorbini · 3 years ago

Text

Comforting silence

Aesop Carl x Reader

A happy au where everyone lived and escaped the manor Trigger warnings: mentions of abuse and (slight) cursing

Oh, how you just wanted this day to end already. It was only 10 in the morning, but things were already going downhill. Someone you had hoped to never see again randomly showed up on your doorstep hoping to 'reconcile' with you. Though that's the same excuse they had used before just so they could do the same shit again. It was a vicious cycle and after all these years, you had hoped it was finally over. "I said no. I am very busy and cannot leave right now." You say for the umpteenth time. You felt many things while being in front of this person. Anger, disgust but most importantly, fear. Fear that you were caught in their lying web again with no way out. And while you were very much free now, there was that thought in the back of your mind saying you were never really free. That they just wanted you to believe that. You wanted to say something like, "If you truly have then you would just leave alone" but you knew there would be problems that would arise after saying something like that. "If you were to just give me a chance!" They begged, "I've changed! I promise you!" "I am fairly busy today, maybe some other time when I don't have so much work-" They cut you off by forcing themselves more into the door frame. You felt something inside you awaken at the thought of them invading your home. Like a fight or flight sense that was doing its best to take control of your body and its actions. "I'm sure you can cut in some time for me," They persisted "We could-" It was your turn to cut them off. "I already said that I can't multiple times, now if you could kindly get out of my door and leave me alone-" "I am trying to make amends!" They suddenly shouted "But you were always so selfish! That's why nothing ever worked out!" You were taken aback by their sudden outburst. What took you back even more was how they changed their composure back to how it was before they snapped. That same deceiving smile was adorning that bastard's face once more. "Now, if we could just," Them placing their hand on your arm was just what you needed to lose whatever composure you had. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" You screamed as you push them out of the doorway. You gave them no time to recover as you slammed that door to lock it. There was just strings of curses and loud banging coming from outside. You backed away, still in shock of what happened and what was still going on in that moment. You locked yourself in your room as you waited for this whole ordeal to sort itself out. You were trying to keep your mind from drifting to the possibility of them breaking into your home. You weren't exactly sure when the yelling and banging had stopped. It could have been hours ago or maybe it had just stopped. You slowly and quietly leave your room to investigate the front door. Cautiously looking out your window beside it to make sure they were indeed gone. Satisfied that they were, you retreated back into your room. Whatever energy you once had was completely gone now. As you walked back in, the sound of knocking could be heard once more. While it was much softer than the previous ones, that didn't mean a wave of anxiety shot through you. Given the last time. Panicking, you plastered yourself in the corner of your room that would be hidden when the door first opens, giving you time to collect yourself if the situation called for you to get out. You failed to hear the sound of the front door opening and the footsteps that were slowly going around your house. Still lost in your thoughts of how you can escape your own home, you were unaware of the jiggling and turning of the handle. It wasn't until the door opened that you were finally pulled back into reality. Those plans to escape just left. As if they were never there. You were too scared to move, you wanted to leave so bad, but you no longer had control over your own body. Staring at the floor, you started shaking profusely. You could've sworn you heard someone say your name, but it all sounds like white noise. Familiar shoes come into view. As you start to realize who

they belong to, a hand on your shoulder made you come back to reality once again. Which also caused your arm to have a mind of its own. But it seemed the person has quick reflexes of their own. Looking up, you see your significant other with an incredibly worried expression adorning his features. "A-Aesop?" You mutter out in a shaky voice. You were quickly met with a tight embrace, whatever awkwardness he used to have in his hugs, gone from years of dating. You were stiff at first from all of the confusion, but soon relaxed into his grip. All of those built-up emotions finally let themselves out as you cried and cried into his shoulder. This, of course, caught Aesop off guard. But that didn't mean he didn't do his best to comfort you. Feeling yourself getting lifted up, you clung onto your lover as he walked you over to your bed and laid you down. He had some trouble trying to pry you off of him so he could get on the bed with you. With a slight huff, he had to wrap his arms around you and rolled over on the bed. You, now laying on top of him, shoved your head into his chest. Aesop knew you were someone who needed to calm down first before asking what's wrong or what happened. So, he did his best to try and relax you until you felt comfortable enough to tell him what had happened before he arrived. You have told him about your past before, everything that had happened and everything that person did to you. And he was very understanding, made you feel safe while you opened up. But he never truly expressed how angry he was when finding out what that person did to you. Not with words at least. His body language said everything he couldn't. Running his gloved hands in a soothing motion on your back, he patiently waited until you were ready to talk. You sobs start to become more quieter the more circles he traces on your back. He truly didn't need to use his voice to help you calm down. He always knew how to make you feel loved without having to say the words. It was rather comforting just staying in this position. Just hearing the beating of his heart was enough to calm you down. You knew that you should tell him what happened, but you wanted to stay like this. With a hard sigh and a sniffle of your nose, you explain everything to him. From when that person came back and to what happened when they were forced out. You started crying once more as you relayed everything. And just like before when you opened up to him, he was patient with you now. Continuing to rub your back as you told him how scared you were, what all that was going through your mind. He made sure you felt safe and loved as you talked and cried. After finishing, you placed your head back onto his chest. completely exhausted from today's events. You closed your eyes, hoping that a new day would start when you opened them again. Aesop resumed what he was doing before to make sure you were comfortable. Feeling a kiss on your head, you let out a content sigh before you fell yourself getting even more tired. This is what you needed. Just you, him, and this comforting silence.

#aesop carl #idv x reader #identity v #idv embalmer #x reader #aesop carl x reader #idv

86 notes · View notes

dracowars · 5 years ago

Note

i read your first request and it’s AMAZING!! i loved it soo much, so i was wondering if you could write smth where y/n is dracos gf - they meet in his dorm room after class, but one day she’s super late and acting really weird, draco doesn’t bother, tries to comfort her, and maybe get a lil steamy, but she doesn’t want to.. he then discovers scaring on her hand, and she tells him that crabble sent her to umbridge for doing smth bad.. you can decide on the plot, those are just some ideas! xx

engraved | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 3,0k

summary: where y/n's visit to the new headmistress leads to a heated argument with draco

a/n: thank you very much for your kind words and for requesting, i really hope that you like it <3

warnings: a little steamy, angst, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

Trying to hold back the tears, you run down the sparse torch-lit corridors of Hogwarts, your footsteps echoing from the thick stone walls around you creating the only other sound besides your soft sobs. You press your left hand against your chest while you burst into the closest girls' bathroom, which is completely empty at this time, especially since Dolores Umbridge is in charge of the rules here.

It has been less than a month since she crept into school as the new headmistress and everything is already upside down. Students are allowed to walk around at a certain time only, detours between lessons are not acceptable at all, couples are almost no longer allowed to exist and actually, just all kind of fun and joy at Hogwarts has been extingusihed by her rules.

However, worst of all are the punishments for breaking any of Umbridge's thousand rules. Recently she has founded the so-called Inquisitorial Squad, a select group of students who help her to locate every kind of violations happening around the school. They sneak around the hallways on their hourly tours at night and report every so tiny thing to their new boss immediately. Most of these students are, of course, Slytherin's. Your boyfriend Draco was also offered to become a part of this squad, which he gladly accepted and was named its leader. You exactly know how perfect Draco fits into the role of the bad and ruthless leader, but still, you weren't very happy about it. After all, this woman is currently destroying your second home and he is helping her in a certain way.

Being the girlfriend of the Inquisitorial Squad's leader made you think that nothing can harm you, but oh, you were terribly wrong. Usually by this time in the early evening after your last course in Transfiguration you would already be in Draco's prefect dorm room, cuddling on his bed and just talking about your day. Because of the new established rules, you have to sneak into his room, trying to not get caught, but so far it has not been a very big problem. Even if someone of the other Slytherin's catches you, they will be far too scared of Draco to report it. But unfortunately everything took a different turn today.

During your Transfiguration lesson you had to admit that you forgot to do your homework, something that doesn't happen often but the current situation in Hogwarts burdens everyone, even the teachers, and on top of that you also came too late. Not that McGonagall was mad at you or anything, you are one of her best students after all, and a simple warning that it should not happen again was enough punishment in her opinion. Unluckily for you, Vincent Crabbe, one of your boyfriend's goons, is also in your class. And he definetely takes his job as an inquisitor a little too serious.

When you wanted to get out of the classroom, he suddenly got in your way and blocked it, waiting for everyone else to leave. At first you thought he was just trying to be funny again, you have never had a problem with each other in the first place. But apparently Crabbe prefers to receive an award from Umbridge to your friendship and the fact that you are in the same house didn't stop him in deducting twenty house points from his own house because you broke two rules. You never expected him to have a big brain, but that he even dragged you into Umbridge's office afterwards just because you forgot your homework in a class she is not even a part of, was even too stupid for a Vincent Crabbe.

And only then did it get really bad.

A tear has now found its way down your cheek, but you hastily wipe it away and run to the sinks in the girls' bathroom. You quickly turn on the faucet and hold your reddened, throbbing hand under the ice-cold water, your lips escapes a painful gasp. You squeeze your eyes shut at the pain and let the water run down your skin, hoping to soothen your aching flesh. What Umbridge did to you can no longer be considered a punishment, it was more of a torture.

As soon as Crabbe rudely pushed you into her disgusting pink office, he immediately received his desired reward and left you alone with this monster of a woman. This disgusting woman greeted you with a fake cunning smile and asked you to sit on one of the chairs at her table, the cats trapped in the pictures on every inch of the wall meowing in your ear. First you resisted against her request but soon realized that discussions with her are of no use and sat down after all.

With that peculiar high tone of hers, she handed you a black quill and then asked you to write 'I must not be late' onto the parchment until you memorize it. She also told you that you won't need any ink. With an annoyed roll of your eyes you straightend up your position, put the tip of the quill onto the paper and started writing. Not even spelling out the sentence one time, you felt a sharp pain on the back of your hand with every further letter you wrote down. As you took a look at your hand you noticed the exact words you just wrote were engraved on your skin.

Shocked, you glanced at Umbridge, but she just stood their with a smile on her face, shaking her head and shrugging. You figured out that the ink was made from your own blood and also that every word would only hurt more. And that is exactly what it did. She must have let you write that one single sentence down over fifthy times before she was sure you had learned your lesson.

You yourself didn't really care if you did, all you wanted to do was to get out of that hell as soon as possible. And now you are here, standing in absolute pain in front of an already broken mirror in a cold bathroom.

You have to blink a few times while looking up at the ceiling to hold back your tears and then you look at your injured hand again. You pull it out from under the running water for a moment, only to see that you are still able to perfectly read the words. The cold water did not really ease the pain, it almost feels like it has gotten worse. You lightly touch the reddend, blood smeared skin around the actual wound with your fingertip and just at the slightest touch you flinch and pull your hand back.

You don't know how long you stood there and held your hand under the water as suddenly a thought pops up in your mind: Draco. If he finds out about what happened, he will be furious. Also, he is probably already waiting for you for two hours, not that it is unusual for you to be late to your daily meetings with your boyfriend, you always get caught up by some work for school, but you never needed this long before. Is he already looking for you?

Without waisting another thought, you close the tap again, dry your hand very gently and then go out of the girls' bathroom, always careful not to run into the next squad member's arms and get sent back to the devil itself. Fortunately, you manage to find your way to the common room without getting caught, only once imagining that you heard Mrs. Norris. After you have said the password successfully, you enter the, luckily, empty room.

You quickly make your way to Draco's prefect dorm room, pulling the sleeve of your cloak - or as you have just noticed because of the large size, Draco's cloak - over your wounded hand so that it remains hidden. All you want is to be hugged now and comforted by him and not that he gets upset and angry and probably storm to Umbridge's office right away. Softly, you knock on the door and take in a deep breath, before it is opened vigorously.

Immediately you are pulled into the room, the door behind you is closed, even locked, and you get pressed against it with your back. In front of you is none other than your incredibly handsome boyfriend whose eyes seek eye contact with you in an instant. "Where were you?", Draco asks in a calm voice, gently stroking his fingertips over your cheeks to your chin, causing goosebumps to spread all over your body.

"I-I was held in Transfiguration. I had to catch up on some tasks and I forgot the time. I'm sorry, Draco", you lie into his face, really not wanting to tell him anything about what happend. "You made me wait a long time for you today, are you aware of that, darling?", he reminds you with a cheeky grin, his face slowly coming closer to yours. You know exactly what that look, that expression in his suddenly darker eyes means. He moves the hand that is not under your chin over your side and lets it stay on your hip. "But that is no problem, love. We still have enough time.."

With these words he then connects your lips into a hungry kiss, pressing you more against the door to his room. His hand on your hip squeezes you harder and he runs his other hand down to your neck. His firm grip makes you gasp, only earning a deep chuckle from the platinum haired boy.

For this brief moment in which he caught you off guard by slamming his lips onto yours, you had forgotten everything around you, but it did not last long and suddenly all the experiences come back into your head. Not wanting to continue this, you put your hands on his chest, trying to push him away from you but you only manage to break the kiss, which does not please him at all.

"I'm really not in the mood today, Draco", you explain, hoping that he will understand, like he usually does. "You will be, just wait and see", he winks playfully, absolutely not noticing the seriousness in your voice. Before you can say anything you only see the corners of his mouth curl up and next thing you know is he's attacking your neck, sucking and nibbling at that specific spot behind your ear.

Because of the actually pleasing feeling, you put more pressure on Draco's upper arms, which you are now unintentionally holding onto. "D-Draco", you softly whimper as he takes off your green tie and starts unbuttoning your white blouse, his rough kisses slowly wandering to your collarbone. "Please, Draco, stop", you manage to bring out, clearer than previously, but he ignores your request and just continues with what he is doing.

"We both know that you don't want me to stop", Draco whispers in your ear and connects your lips again, this time even rougher, not giving you the opportunity to say anything. It takes you a few seconds until you, in fact, try to relax under his touch and let yourself go, tilting your head to one side so he has even more access to the sensitive skin on your neck, which is already bluish.

But you just can't. You can't force yourself to do this after the horrifying encounter with Umbridge.

With a strong, forceful push you manage to shove Draco away from you ungently, a shocked and kind of annoyed expression plastered upon his face. "I said stop, Draco!", you practically scream at him, his forehead furrowed as the tears well back into your eyes. You want to pass him and go to his bed, but he quickly grabs your wrist and stops you. Immediately you harshly swat your hand away.

"Let me go and just leave me alone! You are always so insensitive!", you yell at him again, the emotions taking over your actions, but this time the tears find their way down your cheeks and only now Draco notices your change of appearance, how puffy your cheeks are and how your eyes are swollen and bloodshot, as if you had already cried before coming to his room.

Crying, you lie down on his bed, facing the wall so that your back is facing him. Draco frowns for a moment when he sees your devastated figure trembling from your heavy sobs. You cover your mouth with your hand to stifle your crying, but that only makes it worse. You can feel the mattress sink down beneath you as Draco lies down beside you, not touching you in the slightest.

A few minutes pass in which noone speaks, only your crying can be heard throughout the silence of the room. Your desperate attempts to calm yourself down and wipe away your recurring tears fails dramatically. Draco, on the other hand, lies next to you motionless, his head propped up on his elbow. If there is one thing in this entire traumatic enough world that he hates the most, it definetely is seeing you, the love of his life, his soulmate, cry. He would love to punch himself for not noticing how bad you are feeling sooner. Feelings of guilt start to plague him and he doesn't know what to do, if you even want to be touched by him anymore, especially in this fragile state.

Nevertheless, Draco finally decides to approach you slowly by stroking your hair gently and carefully to not scare you. He just wants to show you that he is here for you, that he is by your side, even if you may not feel like talking right now. When he notices that you are not resisting his touch, he runs his fingertips over your arm, trying to comfort you somehow without it being too much. And when you don't fight against that either, Draco suddenly wraps his arms around your still shaking body from behind and presses you tightly against him.

"Please don't cry, sweetheart", he softly whispers into your ear, lifting his head so he gets a glimpse of your face from the side. "Please stop..", he almost begs and feels tears pricking in his own eyes now as well. He has seen you cry a few times already, but never this much. It breaks his heart. "I'm here for you, angel."

In his strong and protective arms, tightly secured around your waist, you finally manage to calm down at least a little bit and turn around to face him. You don't dare to look at him with your probably disfigured face from all the crying, but Draco has other plans. He puts a hand on your cheek, guiding your face up to make you look at him. In your shiny, pain-ridden eyes, he is trying to find an answer to your condition, not wanting to pressure you to tell him if you don't want to.

"D-Draco", you stutter out between your sobs. "Shh..", he hushs you softly, his left hand stroking up and down your side in order to comfort you. "Take it easy, okay? Breathe in deeply. Whatever happened, I'm here for you. I protect you. Always."

Knowingly, you nod and wipe away some tears again, Draco helping you with his thumb. When you let your hand drop again, he catches your hand in his gently and wants to intertwine your fingers as his gaze falls on the still reddened wound on the back of your hand. His eyes widen as he sees the wound consisting of words painfully engraved into your skin. His mouth opens in pure shock. "What is that? Who did this to you, Y/N?!"

With a sad gasp you quickly pull your hand away, the expression on his face immediately falling since you are avoiding his touch and don't trust him with this. Only at seeing your scared face Draco notices that his last words became a bit louder and he is quick to pull you into a comforting hug again. "I'm sorry.. I didn't mean to scare you", he apologizes and places a kiss on your hair. "You know that you can tell me everything, Y/N. But if you don't want to, then at least show me your injury again please."

Silently, you escape his grip and lift your hand for him to see. He carefully examines the back of your hand, looking into your eyes here and then to see if his touch hurts. "U-Umbridge", you sob while he is still busy viewing your wound. At your words he raises an eyebrow in surprise.

"I-I was late for class and forgot my homework and then.. and then Crabbe sent me to her office. She.. She did-", you try to explain, but just can't find the right words. Draco caresses your cheek gently, apparently understanding what happened.

"I will kill her", Draco grinds his teeth, obviously fighting himself to hold back the anger that is currently raising inside of him like a burning flame. This woman dared to lay a hand on you and put you in such a state. And Crabbe won't get away with this either. Because of the tremendous anger, Draco is already getting up from the soft mattress, ready to fight.

"Please s-stay with me, Draco", you entreat him, not wanting to loose the warmth of his body next to you that manages to calm you down. At your words, his tense body relaxes and the boiling fire inside of him diminishes, but only slightly. Just because of you he's not already on his way to her office and give her hell.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry you had to go through this alone and I'm sorry for my behavior earlier", Draco starts to ramble, feeling guilty for not being able to protect you.

"You couldn't know. I-I really don't want to talk about it anymore.. Can you please just hold me, Draco?", you sob and he does what you asked him to do right away. His arms pull you closer to him and the delicate, fragrant scent that emenates from him calms you down, lowering your cries.

"I will never let you go", Draco whispers quietly, reassuring you that he will defintely never let you get hurt again. Not on his watch even if that means that he has to stick to you every second from now on, then so it will be.

#draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy oneshots #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco imagine #draco oneshot #draco malfoy headcanon #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #harry potter imagine #harry potter imagines #hp imagine #harry potter x reader

1K notes · View notes