#and they are written to somewhat stand alone

[prettyboykatsuki]

keel | sylus (qin che)

♡ tags ; afab + fem!reader, gendered language (good girl, sweet girl) , the use of kitten like one time, praise kink heavy, domestic sex, unprotected sex, fingering, loverboy sylus, 18+

♡ wc ; 1.8k

♡ a/n ; stuck in my bkg draft so i tried my hand at sylus. not sure how i did im sorry sylus fans </3 pls forgive me if the characterization isn't up to par.

♡ synopsis ; sylus likes fueling your praise kink when the mood strikes.

It's easy to miss the way Sylus is sweet on you.

He does that on purpose. It's a secret. One he promises to keep tucked between the creased edges of his longing. No one knows the depth of his affection, the weight of it, the truth of of it—except Sylus alone.

There is a laundry list of reasons it's like this. Filled with calculated consideration and logical outcomes.

Less reasonably but more truthfully - it's also in his nature. Dragons are known for hoarding their precious belongings.

What could be more precious, more worthy of guard than his love for you?

He doesn't even think he's all that good at hiding it, truthfully. If you catch him at the right time- you'd see it written all over his face. Etched into his features, in the sway of every motion and lasting seconds of every glance.

Of all people, you seem to know the least how much Sylus utterly adores you. At least, you pretend that's the case.

He can't be entirely sure why that is. Or rather—he isn't sure why it's like that even now. Your first reactions to him were warranted, he knows that.

But it's different now. Most of your misunderstandings resolved and your disagreements settled—even without the memories of past, you should know it clearly, right? How much he adores you?

You do know. You can't not know. Not with the way Sylus treats you.

It's almost like you want to avoid the subject all together. Like you're trying not to linger on it too long, or think about it too hard - afraid of what will happen if you do. Each time Sylus makes you face it, you turn away—chin tucked, eyes screwed close, embarrassed. As if the very presence of his love for you is enough to make your face burn. It threatens to swallow you up.

If he didn't find it so horribly loveable, he might venture to call it troublesome.

He likes it about you though, like he likes everything else about you.

Sylus likes to meet you where you are. Where you're sarcastic and easily frustrated, he's patronizing and relaxed. Knowing you get shy so easily when his affection is more overt, he'll push but never far enough to really upset you. He treads carefully, rides the line until you come to him willingly. Always asks, always waits. He's patient like that, especially with you.

Sylus likes crooning about you being catlike - but there's truth in it. It's part of why he's good at handling you. Just like he knows not to move when a cat settles in his lap, Sylus knows not to push you by coming onto strong when you're not asking for it.

(It gives him the same feeling of accomplishment when you come to him first.)

It's rare that Sylus gets to spoil you for all the reasons above.

Spoil you in the overbearing, affectionate sense at least. He usually curbs that desire through spending money on you - but there's something more he's after.

When you come to him wanting it—there's not a single part of him that thinks of refusing. He couldn't even if he tried.

That's why, when you come barreling down his bedroom door and demanding to be fucked - Sylus can only really think to be amused.

You're feeling lazy, and somewhat bold. It's a good deal for him, anyhow.

A single hand cups the back of your thighs as you stand on your knees - straddling Sylus with your hands resting at his at his shoulders. Sylus presses his forehead just underneath your sternum as his other hand focuses on stretching you out.

You let out a soft breath as Sylus scissors his fingers open inside of you. You feel warm around him, wet and slick and inviting. It makes his cock twitch, almost guilty with his desire.

"Feeling alright, sweetheart?"

You open your eyes and look down at Sylus. He smiles at you, head tilted as you frown at him. "I'm fine. But you're taking too long. Want you to—"

"I like letting you have your way but I'm afraid I won't budge on this one," Sylus says, cooing. He presses a chaste kiss to your stomach, adding another finger inside of you. You whine audibly, knees weakening in his grasp. Sylus laughs.

"Awfully worked up today aren't you, kitten?"

"So what if I am?" You spit with familiar hostility he's come to love.

"Now, now - I didn't say it was bad, so don't be that way, hm? You were being so sweet a second ago,"

"I'm always sweet," You say plainly. Sylus laughs harder than he should, and you glare at him with a pronounced frown.

His eyes twinkle with amusement. "That so?"

Your frown deepens. "Yeah."

Your reply comes out firm in a way that makes his chest tight. He stares up at you bemused. "Sure, then. Is there any reason my sweet girl is in particular mood?"

You clench down on his fingers. His brows raise, the grip on his shoulders getting tighter.

"Don't say anything," You hiss. He shrugs.

"There's no shame in it," Sylus says smoothly. "If there's anything you want, you just have to ask. No need for your pride to get in the way, right?"

Your face twists. It's cute, watching you go back and forth - more with yourself than anyone else. You let out a frustrated groan.

"Just—"

"Just what? Will you really be satisfied if I just fuck you?" Sylus purrs, curling his fingers up towards your g-spot with a deliberate control. You gasp as you tighten around him, growing wetter. He feels you go weak in his grasp, smiling as your eyes roll back. "What you really want to hear is how good you are for me, right?"

Your pussy flutters around his fingers again, an involuntary reaction - soft whimpering leaving your mouth. How unusual. How uncharacteristic of you to be so docile towards him, or about him - so openly lusting after such an affectionate sort of attention.

"Be a good girl and ask me to spoil you,"

Your eyes widen. "That's humiliating—,"

Sylus quirks his brow. "So you won't be good for me?"

Your face contorts again. So cute, he thinks. He can see all the gears turn in your head as you sigh. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, your voice next to his ear - muffled by his shoulder as you bury your nose against his neck.

"Spoil me," You say, half-demanding. Mostly just needy in a way that makes his skin prickle with heat. "I want you to spoil me,"

Sylus laughs deeply. He can't help it. It's a heavy sound. You hit him when he does, clawing at his shoulders. There's no malice to his laughter though, though. Just a sort of disbelief of how deep his affection can run for you. Like just when he thinks it can't run any deeper, it does.

"You did well, hm?" Sylus hums. It comes easily. He's just voicing what feels like his thoughts are most of the time. "Good job, kitten. Should I give you something in return of your hard work?"

You nod into his shoulder. Sylus feels all the lovesickness in his body jolt, cock going stiff at the innocent gesture. He breathes out.

"Here," He pulls his fingers out from you, relishing the way you hiccup from loss of contact. He strokes his cock with sticky fingers - painfully hard before grabbing your hips and settling your weight of his lap.

You lean down to kiss him and Sylus meets you - a soft tongue kiss and gentle reminder that he's here. You linger there longer than he expects you to, but finds himself eager to stay. When he finally pulls away, he turns his attention back onto your pussy.

He admires your cunt as it hovers over his length. Clit swollen with need, sticky and supple and begging to be fucked - Sylus feels his head go heavy. He rubs the sensitive bundle of nerves with the tip of his cock, reeling at the silky sensation. The muscles in his abdomen feeling tight.

You whimper above him. Your usual moan softened to noisy, desperate mewls. Something in your demeanor spurs him on. He finds himself more eager than usual to sing your praises.

"You'll look so pretty sitting on my cock won't you, dove?" Sylus croons, his voice thick with arousal. A syrupy lust spreads through his limbs, makes his hold on your hips tighter. "Always take it so perfectly. Made just for me sweetheart. How could I ever think of anything else?"

"Sylus," You draw the syllables of his name out with a whine.

"Shh, I know. Time for me to kiss it better, right?"

You whimper at the implication. Kiss it better when he means to fuck you, it makes your hold on him even stronger. Sylus pulls you down onto his lap slowly. The tip of his cock nudging past slick folds, careful and thoughtful. You buck your hips - seeking tension and depth but Sylus holds you firmly in place.

It'll be better for you if you feel his cock inch by inch. It'd be best if you remembered it carefully. Every vein, every curve, ever angle - carved into your body from now to eternity. It'd be good if you got so used to it, your body couldn't crave for anything else - so you'd have something only he could give you that'd bring you more pleasure then pain.

You sink down on Sylus' cock slowly. Whimpering as the tip finds your entrance, stretching you open slowly. Your pussy accommodates to his size with effort - even after so much stretch. A dull pain that has you squeezing around his length tight the farther down you drop.

"You feel so good," Sylus groans. Your pussy squeezes down on him hard. "That's it. Easy."

Sylus barely touches you. When he bottoms out, you're clamping down on him so hard it barely takes him any effort at all to make you cum. One hand slides between your bodies, fingers resting at your navel as he rubs slow, precise circles into your clit - unmoving.

"Such a good girl for me," Sylus coos. Your whole body wracks into a shiver, as you swear into his shoulder. "Cum. You want to, right? Go ahead and cum,"

"Hnggh, fuck. Sylus I'm—"

"Let go sweetheart. Cum."

Your body coils in as Sylus whipers sweet nothings against your shoulder. You grip his cock like a vice, bottomed out - trembling as arousal and slick floods his length, a sticky sound filling the room as you rock your hips and ride out your high. Your breathing is shallow, trembling as your orgasm knocks the wind out of you.

You're pliant in his grasp. Pleasant and sweet. There's no way you don't know that he adores you.

"You want more?"

Fucked out, you nod your head. An almost docile quality to you.

"Sure, then, sweetheart. We have all day,"

[flopsxii]

tokyo revengers boys with their crush (aka you!) <3

feat. sano ‘mikey’ manjiro, ryuguji ‘draken’ ken, hanagaki takemichi, baji keisuke, matsuno chifuyu, hanemiya kazutora, mitsuya takashi, inui seishu && kokonoi hajime

notes: first time writing for so many characters and some for the first time :0 i hope it isn’t ass!!! sorry if some characters i haven’t written for before are ooc and inaccurate! ALSO I HATE SQUID GAME BUT TRANS BADDIE.

— i will release a part two soon :)

sano ‘mikey’ manjiro

ꪆৎ i think mikey would be somewhat upfront with you about his crush. of course, he wouldn’t outright confess until he knew you shared the same sentiment. however, he’d make it fairly obvious that he thought highly of you and how he loves spending time with you over anyone else.

ꪆৎ he’d definitely ‘kidnap’ you from classes, begging you to leave because it’s an “emergency”, but really he just wanted to spend time with you. you’d scold him after, reminding him about the importance of school, but he’d just stand there with a love struck smile on his face. it didn’t matter wether you were lecturing him or ignoring him, being in your presence was enough to bring him happiness.

ꪆৎ his crush is blankly obvious to all of toman and probably other gangs in the near vicinity. no one dared to talk to you in a negative way, a bonus of having mike’s affections. and suddenly, if anyone was mean to you, it didn’t happen anymore… sometimes you wondered why but mikey would shush you immediately. “maybe they just realised that bringing down such an amazing person was a reflection of themselves, y/n-chan!”

ꪆৎ would love it when you accompany him on foodie ‘dates’, rides on his motorbike and even accompanying him to toman’s meetings. it genuinely shocked everyone when mikey would interrupt himself to stick his tongue out at you just to make you giggle. truly toman’s royalty!

ꪆৎ also would most likely pitch up at your house at random points of the day. even as ‘friends’, he’d want to nap together and just hang out alone where he wouldn’t have to maintain his reputation as the ‘invincible mikey’. with you, he could just be manjiro.

ꪆৎ in terms of confession, i think mikey would let it slip out when he’s most vulnerable. either when he’s super sleepy or just generally having a rough time. small whispers of how much he appreciates you and likes you would fall from his lips. once he realised what he had done, it was most likely too late to take it back. he just hoped you shared the same feelings.

ryuguji ‘draken’ ken

ꪆৎ unlike his best friend and captain, draken would keep his feelings to himself and it probably would stay that way for a while. it’s not because he doesn’t wanna be with you, in fact, it’s the opposite! he’d most likely think that a relationship with him would come hand in hand with people jeopardising your safety. so more likely than most, he’d stick to being your friend (a very close friend) until he knew you’d be safe.

ꪆৎ probably would trail behind you whilst you’d go shopping, a unreadable expression on his face but instead, his mind was overwhelmed by the thought of you! how adorable you looked as you pointed out cute things, making a mental note of items to buy you for your birthday.

ꪆৎ definitely would be the first one at your door if you came down with any sickness. even if it was a common cold! he’d remind you that sickness could get worse if left untreated and you should ‘stop denying him and just accept his help.’

ꪆৎ he’s immensely protective over you, even if he doesn’t necessarily need to be. other toman members would try and remind draken that he doesn’t need to be worried over your safety, after all the whole of toman would take care of you!

ꪆৎ i also feel like draken would be the type to pick you up and drop you off before and after school. even if the walk was 10 minutes and under, he’d remind you it could be dangerous alone! it’s purely just an excuse to spend more time with you even if he does act like it’s a chore.

ꪆৎ would probably confess to you if there’s imminent danger towards you or it would slip out without him realising. he’d definitely have to take a couple moments to compose himself if it was the latter, a furious blush erupting over his cheeks causing you to giggle.

hanagaki takemichi

ꪆৎ he’s so so shy around you! however, no matter how much he makes a fool of himself in front of you, he just can’t stay away. it’s like he’s in a constant state of fluster whenever he’s in your presence.

ꪆৎ definitely walks you to and from school, holding your hand if you initiate it first. he would probably also try carry your school books for you, even if you remind him that your arms work just fine. he just wants to help you in anyway he can!

ꪆৎ would also 100% feel awful when he sees the sad expression on your face whenever he turns up with new bruises and cuts covering his face. his heart would break when you graze your fingers over the wounds, asking a meek “do they hurt, michi-kun?”

ꪆৎ also the type to try show off to you whenever he can but fail miserably. although, if he sees that amazing smile, the humiliation he feels is always worth it! even if he ends up hurting himself, he won’t mind if you make sure he’s okay after. maybe a hug wouldn’t hurt also…

ꪆৎ speaking of hugs, he’d probably malfunction the first time that your arms wrap around him. even if you were doing it out of worry for his wellbeing, he cherishes the moment for the rest of his life.

ꪆৎ he doesn’t confess… it’s actually you who tells him how you feel. it’s a heartfelt conversation you two share after you see the boy beaten to a bloody pulp so that his friends would be alright. his loyalty and tenacity being one of the few reasons why you adore him so much!

baji keisuke

ꪆৎ honestly, he’s the definition of whipped. even chifuyu is surprised when he sees how baji acts in your presence. it’s so impossibly clear how much baji likes you to anyone else in the room, except you!

ꪆৎ he’d probably start fancying you if you helped with his studies and actually persevered with him despite how difficult he tried to make it. initially, he’d deny your help, grumpily saying he can handle it and to leave him alone. however, when you sit across from him and start reading through your notes and helping him correct his wrong answers, he’s floored. any other person would’ve left after his shitty response but you stayed.

ꪆৎ would act like your best friend but to anyone else, they view you as baji’s partner (albeit unofficially). is fiercely protective over you and if anyone makes you upset (even a little bit) are met with baji’s anger and very soon after, his fists. of course, you lecture him for jumping into action without consulting you but the fact he cares so much makes your heart beat impossibly faster.

ꪆৎ would definitely invite you over to his house to hang out, just so he could have some time alone with you. even if it’s just you reading and him silently laying beside you, it’s almost heaven to baji. if it was heaven, you’d be spilling your undying love for him but he thinks he wouldn’t be so lucky.

ꪆৎ would also end up sometimes bringing you to toman meetings if he absolutely has no other choice. but you’d stick by his side the whole time and if he’s not available for some reason, chifuyu is there to stand in!

ꪆৎ much like takemichi, you’d have to confess to baji first or you’d be playing cat and mouse with him for the rest of eternity. even his mum knows how he feels but he’ll deny every accusation. however, she’s just happy her hot headed son has someone he cares about and she’s so happy it’s you!

matsuno chifuyu

ꪆৎ chifuyu is definitely the type to crush on his best friend! someone he shares such a deep bond with and trusts on an immensely deep level. i doubt he’d fancy someone he knows on a surface level, he doesn’t know them well enough. however, he knows you inside and out, it never feels awkward around you (despite the constant blush on his cheeks that he hides everytime).

ꪆৎ he’s definitely protective over you, along side baji who will take care of you if chifuyu isn’t around. if he sees anyone hassling you, he’s the first to jump in and defend your honour!

ꪆৎ he always invites you round to his house just to see you cuddle peke j. furthermore, he’ll take you to the zoo, aquariums or just pet shops to hang out since you both share the same sentiment towards animals. it’s one of the reasons he’s fallen so hard for you.

ꪆৎ his mum adores your ‘friendship’ with her son, she’s never seen him so happy (in a romantic way!). she will buy food specially for you to share and even sometimes drop devious hints in your ears about her sons feelings; you don’t take it seriously at first.

ꪆৎ he probably doesn’t initiate physical contact with you too much, it makes his brain overload. but, the option is there… he will without a doubt wrap you in a bear hug; savouring the feeling for as long as possible.

ꪆৎ chifuyu is definitely the type to try reenact scenes from his favourite mangas then make a complete fool of himself. however, he doesn’t know that you appreciate him trying nonetheless, no matter how silly he looks doing so.

ꪆৎ following his shoujo manga’s ideology, he’d confess in a subtle but heartfelt way. i think either using peke j as a messenger, a small note tucked into his little collar. or he’d tell you up front and be as sincere with his words as his silly brain would allow.

hanemiya kazutora

ꪆৎ it’s likely that no one knows that kazutora has a crush on anyone, most of all you. i think he wouldn’t interact with you that much in public, instead opting to spend time with you in private when he could truly be himself.

ꪆৎ the amount of times kazutora has to cover his raging blush on his cheeks each time you hang out is insane! he never knew that compliments he hears on the daily about his appearance could make his heart beat so fast, until they came out of your mouth.

ꪆৎ he definitely visits you if you have a job, sneaking in and surprising you with a huge smile on his face! he’s also the type to stay until your shift ends and make sure you get home safely, wether you ride on his motorcycle or not.

ꪆৎ he may also sometimes slip you unexpected gifts, only small ones though that have sentimental value. maybe it’s cinema tickets from the time you dragged him out after his release from juvie.

ꪆৎ he doesn’t want you involved with any gang activity so it’s quite unlikely that you find out he’s still involved with that stuff. however, he would tell you flat out if you heard any rumours about him and would reassure you that he’d keep you seperate.

ꪆৎ it’s unlikely he’d confess, liking things how they are, no matter how much he wishes your relationship could progress. either he’s worried you’d see him as a monster, due to things he did in the past and in the present or he just wouldn’t know how to say it so it’s better left unsaid anyways. it would have to be you to lay your feelings out for him to see and decide what to do next.

mitsuya takashi

ꪆৎ i think mitsuya would be one of the most upfront about his feelings on this list without saying it directly. toman can clearly see the sentiment he shares for you, even girls in his class and sewing club know that he’s essentially spoken for!

ꪆৎ he loves inviting you along to his days out with his sisters. not only because he loves spending time with you but also because the two girls adore you as much as he does! one of his favourite photographs is the four of you on one of your days out, a scarf he made wrapped around your neck.

ꪆৎ speaking of clothes he’s made; mitsuya definitely surprises you with new pieces every so often. even if you’d try refuse, telling him he should try sell them as they’re just that good, he’d remind you that he’d much rather see them on you and wants no payment in return (no matter how much you insist).

ꪆৎ gentleman mitsuya always gives you a ride no matter where you need to go! even if you mention in passing that you’re going shopping in the coming days, he will insist that he’s your ride! after all, he can’t stand by whilst you lug heavy bags home.

ꪆৎ once mitsuya is certain about your feelings reflecting his, he’d be direct with his words. “i have feelings for you, y/n-chan.” a simple statement that gets the biggest weight off his chest. he can only hope you accept his confession…

inui seishu

ꪆৎ you’re most likely a childhood friend to seishu, i find it unlikely he’d fancy a classmate or a passing stranger. perhaps, a childhood friends sibling? that way, he’s able to determine wether you actually like him for who he is.

ꪆৎ alongside kokonoi, he trusts you immensely. i highly doubt he’s able to form romantic feelings for anyone without the formation of trust. you’re his confident and he’s yours, and it has always been that way. at this point, seishu is unable to see himself confiding with anyone else the way he does with you.

ꪆৎ when he first started gaining feelings for you, i think he probably would give you the cold shoulder, not understanding how he feels. but, he’ll make things right with you once his minds less foggy!

ꪆৎ if you don’t exactly share the same interests, such as how he’s very interested in motorbikes and mechanics, he will try very hard to get into your hobbies so you can spend more time together. however, it means an immense amount to him that you’ll sit there and let him ramble about his favourite bike that shinichiro worked on, even if it was so long ago.

ꪆৎ he would probably confess when everything has settled down in his life. that includes his involvement with gang activity. he would hate to put someone so close to his heart in jeopardy. however, if you can’t wait, you could always confess yourself…

kokonoi hajime

ꪆৎ it would take him a long, long time to actually acknowledge his feelings for you. he would probably feel like moving on was a betrayal to akane but there came a point where he couldn’t ignore those feelings anymore.

ꪆৎ he would treat you amazingly, even if he’s battling with the thoughts inside his head about you and akane. he’d offer you money if you needed it (you will most likely hand it straight back), buy you gifts and happen to forget the receipt…

ꪆৎ even after several talks that you like spending time with him because of who he is and not what he can do for you, kokonoi still finds it hard to accept. he probably will see some resemblance to akane in that sense and would probably think she’d want him to be with someone like you.

ꪆৎ one of his favourite things about you is that even if he isn’t in a sociable mood, you will still sit with him and enjoy his company. not to mention he’s floored by how amazing you look everytime he sees you!

ꪆৎ he also loves going on day trips with you and seishu, finding every different place the three of you visit special.

ꪆৎ his confession would be sincere and precise. he would lay his feelings out and would promise to treat you amazingly and of course, take care of you in anyway you’d need.

[starmapz]

BLOW ME (ONE LAST KISS)

𓉸 fwb!satoru gojo x f!reader

𓉸 kinktober smut oneshot

❝ it's been two years since you last saw satoru. showing up at his door in the dead of night wasn't on your list of things to do today, but when things don't work out with your boyfriend, you find yourself back at your old best friend and fuck buddy's door. ❞

𓉸 warnings ; 18+ only. contains explicit content. fwb to strangers to lovers type thing. pwp. fluff. hurt/comfort. gojo's a lovable idiot. sub!gojo. whiny!gojo. pet names (baby, sweetheart, pookie, darling, pretty girl, pretty, love). slight spitting. slight overstim. oral (m! and f! receiving). praise. handjob. unprotected. creampie. p in v. fairly soft n sweet.

𓉸 words ; 10.8k.

𓉸 a/n ; this turned out so much longer than i expected but i had a lot of fun writing the story so i hope you enjoy!

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

Bleary-eyed with exhaustion, Gojo’s barely able to keep himself upright as a knock at the door urges him out of bed at three in the morning. He yawns tiredly as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants and shuffles down the hall to his front door.

He wouldn’t say he’s shocked to see you standing at his door, it’s not the first time you’ve made your way over unannounced. No, the shocking part of this encounter is that he hasn’t heard a peep from you since two years ago when you ended your ‘benefits’ agreement with him after getting a boyfriend.

He scratches his bare chest, looking you up and down. Your hair is a mess, mascara streaks are smudged on your cheeks in a lazy effort to cover up the evidence of your tears and the little fuzzy kitty cat shorts and matching shirt you’re wearing tell him everything he needs to know.

But why come to him?

“You broke up.” It’s not a question, he doesn’t need you to answer. The proof is written across your face.

“Something like that.” Your voice is raspy, throat raw from the sobs that wracked your body earlier, though now you just seem exhausted.

But why come to him, not your close friends?

Silently, Satoru’s eyes raise to your car. All of your belongings are clearly stuffed in the back seat from what he can tell. You’re shuffling from foot to foot, standing a small distance away from him.

“So are you here to fuck?”

It’s blunt, but it’s the truth of the agreement you once had. Though Gojo’s somewhat bitter tone is a reminder that you had forgotten about the ‘friends’ portion of that agreement somewhere along the way.

You hesitate, jaw opening and closing once, twice, three times as you search for an explanation but in truth you aren’t sure why you’re here. The thought tears you apart inside and you bring your arms up around your torso, shrinking in on yourself. That can’t be all that’s left of what was once your closest friendship.

But after all these years, maybe it is.

“No, I’m not,” you whisper softly, avoiding his gaze. “I… I should go.”

Even in his bitterness, your ex friend doesn’t have it in him to let you drive off to god knows where in the middle of the night alone when you’re clearly upset and came to him for help. With a tired sigh, his hand grabs your wrist and he tugs you inside.

You let out a surprised gasp as he easily pulls you into his house, shutting the door behind you. He takes a step back, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he waits for an explanation that never comes as you grapple with your own thoughts. His mind drifts back to the last time he saw you, a bitter taste bubbling in his throat at the thought.

He remembers the way you excitedly told him you had a date. He’d smiled, turning to face you on the couch, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t think you noticed, too caught up in your own excitement.

You had told him the benefits needed to end. It didn’t matter to him, he was never in this for the benefits.

In truth, he figured you would come back to him with the realization you had feelings for him. You were always so enthusiastic around him, you were the one always pushing the boundaries you had established. Satoru never minded, but the longer the agreement went on, he was sure you would come to the same realization he had.

He was so sure you would reciprocate the feelings he was so afraid to voice out of fear of losing his closest friend. After all, he had really only agreed to your whole ‘friends with benefits’ arrangement because he thought it would give him the opportunity to get closer to you.

The cocky asshole that he is, Gojo Satoru thought that his dick game was so good you would fall for him.

Then you went on a second date with the guy, gushing to Gojo about him with a movie playing in the background and he realized just how wrong he was.

He’d fucked up. He’d fucked up so colossally and he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know if he even could fix it.

It was on the fourth date that your new guy made it official and you texted Satoru right away.

He feigned happiness. He would be what you needed him to be.

But the recoil of his complicated relationship with you hit him fast and hard.

It started with a decrease in time spent with you, which he could live with. Then, it was a decrease in excited texts. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t hurt, when his time had once been completely occupied by you and only you. Regardless of the benefits of your friendship, that was never what mattered to him.

You were like the sun to him. You shone brighter than anyone he had ever met, your smile as radiant as it was beautiful. Burned into his mind like a polaroid, cherished, even in the two years since he’s seen you.

There was no argument that ended everything, no big explosion or blow up of emotions that caused something so dear to both of you to fizzle out suddenly. It all came from a place of not knowing what to do after the benefits ended.

It wasn’t like sex was the only thing you did with one another. In fact, most of your time spent together was watching movies, playing games, or just gossiping and chatting. When the sex ended, however, something lingered.

It was that lingering feeling that shattered what remained of the bond you shared. Between longing looks from Satoru while out on a bubble tea run, and lingering physical attraction to him that left you uncertain, it was too much for you.

Just like that, you slowly stopped responding. You can’t blame Satoru for the fact that he stopped trying to reach out either, if you were in his place you’re certain you would have been embarrassed by the amount of unread messages he’d sent.

Now, you’re ashamed for letting your greatest ally, your biggest cheerleader and your most eager movie buddy slip through the cracks so easily. So blinded by new, young, love that you never stopped to see what was already in front of you.

Although the loss of your closest friend was gradual, fizzling away until there was nothing left, it changed you irreparably. The changes were small at first, they came in the form of little things that would bring your mood down as you reached for your phone to excitedly text him only to falter. With time, the uncertainty and lingering sorrow became a constant numbness and you were so caught up in your own world you couldn’t identify what caused it. You couldn’t make out the little hole in your heart in the shape of Satoru. With time, the hole grew until it was so immense that it resulted in a fight with your boyfriend.

A long fight in which he had insisted that although he cared for you, he had come to terms long ago with the fact that you didn’t feel the same way that he did anymore. The most gut wrenching part was that he was right, but you couldn’t accept that he was right for so long, because you couldn’t accept that you had feelings for someone you hadn’t seen in two years.

Now, standing in front of him, you’re at a complete and utter loss for words. All this time without a word and to think that he’d still let you in. No, he’d pulled you in. After two years of silence, two years of doing him so painfully dirty, he was still here. For you.

“Why are you here?” He asks again when the silence grows so loud he thinks he might be going crazy.

“Can we sit down?” You ask him quietly, feeling guilt wash over you as your eyes trail his washboard abs, as though you have any right to admire just how good he looks.

He steps aside, letting you walk into his living room. It looks almost the same as the day you were last here, probably yapping about your date like a damn fool. The only real difference is that the photo that once sat on a shelf in the corner of the room of the two of you at an aquarium was gone. A pang of sadness courses through you at the realization that he’s probably let you go.

You’re too late. You fucked up.

Gingerly, you take a seat on the soft couch, squirreling your way as far into the corner as you can. You feel small in his presence, unable to read him as you once could. You’re not familiar with the painfully neutral expression he wears, masking what lies beneath. The hint of bitterness to top it all off only adds to the taste of bile in your mouth.

“I owe you a lot of things, Satoru,” you begin. You’d run over what you planned on saying for an hour in the car before gathering the courage to walk to his door, yet the words died in your throat as soon as you took in the sight of him.

He sits opposite you, the distance between the both of you like a rope pulled taut. All you want to do is pull him towards you, but you fear the rope might snap if you do, frayed at the ends. You swallow hard, chancing a glance at those gorgeous blue eyes of his.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. It will never be enough. You left him behind, and no apology will ever do him justice. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper again, choking on your words as tears burn in your eyes.

Satoru lets out a long breath. He never stopped hoping, praying, you would come back, but now that he has you here, something holds him back. Fear, maybe. Dejection, assuredly.

He doesn’t want to be your second choice.

As a tear trails down your cheek whilst you try your best to stay strong before him, the grip that fear has on him becomes frail, crumbling at the sight of his best friend, his movie buddy, his girl, crying.

“C’mere,” he sighs, sliding across the couch as he closes the distance between you. You cling to him like a lifeline as you sob against his bare chest. His skin is soft and warm, just as you remember it, tainted by your salty tears.

It takes him a moment, but his arms do eventually snake around your waist, pulling you into him.

“You deserved so much better back then,” you hiccup, a sound that has Satoru shutting his eyes as your pain crackles in the air around him, charged. “You deserve better now, I shouldn’t be here, I-” You panic suddenly, pressing open palms against his chest to push yourself away but his arms don’t relent. In fact, he rests his chin softly atop your head as he tucks you back against his chest in an effort to soothe you.

He still doesn’t say a word, but the silence and his insistence on holding you tightly serves as your encouragement to talk. That’s all Satoru wants, it’s all he needs. He needs to understand what happened. He wants to know why you’re here after two years of radio silence.

And do you ever talk. The words spill from you, messy and unorganized thoughts falling from your lips like a waterfall.

“You tried so hard to get through to me, and I was such an asshole. I kept trying to- to-” you stammer over your words as you catch your breath between sobs, “-to tell myself my attraction to you was just physical, but then I cut you off anyway and that wasn’t fair. I just don’t think I ever realized-” again, a sob wracks your body, “-that I had feelings for you, I wasn’t willing to admit it because that was my number one rule between us and then I ruined everything anyway, so what does it matter?”

You sniffle, the tips of your fingers gripping at his skin.

“I was so stupid, and everything was so much worse without you. I wanted to text you to tell you little things but anytime I stared at your contact, it scared me how long it had been and how awful I felt and now- now-” you swallow hard, “-now I’m here in front of you and I don’t know what I’m even saying. I- I-” you stammer, your breathing picking up as the words fall from your lips before you have a chance to think twice about them. “-I think I’m in love with you.”

Satoru stiffens beside you, his arms rigid with the revelation. It takes a moment to sink in, before his chin lifts from your head and he pulls back to see your expression. Your cheeks are puffy, eyes red, pupils blown. You look exhausted, and somewhat shocked, as if you’ve just realized this yourself.

His eyes have the sea held within them as turmoil flows through them. Wave after wave, each crashing ashore as he wrestles with his own thoughts.

He whispers your name in a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He should have told you two years ago, before everything became so complicated. “I can’t be your second choice,” he sighs, rejecting you, although his arms don’t leave the tight grip he holds on you.

Of course he never stopped loving you. He got together with others afterwards, had the odd fling here or there, but it was never enough. It never filled the hole in his heart that you’d carved to fit you and only you.

Yet you didn’t fit within that hole either now, he feared. His heart had been hollowed out for someone that didn’t exist anymore.

“We broke up,” you tell him, as though he doesn’t already know. He just stares at you, so you continue. “He told me something changed after we started dating. Like a part of me died and he was never sure why,” you sigh, staring blankly at Satoru’s chest. “He said his feelings weren’t being returned, and he was right.”

Satoru’s grip on you tightens. It’s miniscule, but you feel the way he pulls you just the tiniest bit closer.

“I just couldn’t admit it to myself. It felt wrong because of all the rules,” you try to explain, but it’s all a pathetic attempt at what you’re trying to get to. “You were never my second choice, Toru.” The nickname sets his heart racing beneath your palm. “You’ve always been it for me. I was just too caught up in those stupid rules to see that.”

Pain lingers in the back of his mind, but something new seems to fill his chest. Like you’ve found the hole in his heart that he was so sure could never fit you again, and you’re molding it to fit you as you are now. Healing him in your own way.

“I’m not a rebound,” he blurts out. He can’t let you in so easily, not when you could snap him in two like you had once before. Yet beneath the walls he’s trying to uphold, he’s so painfully vulnerable, an open book for you to see. Behind your tear-filled eyes, he knows you recognize this.

“Never,” you agree, the tips of your fingers tightening against him. “Promise, pookie.”

The nickname he’d used to tease you all those years ago feels foreign from your lips, you’d always hated when he called you it, yet he can’t help the way it makes his lips quirk up. He chuckles, unable to resist the laughter bubbling in his chest.

Such a stupid nickname.

You laugh along with him, sniffling as the lighter air between the both of you settles comfortably.

“Four years and three months, by the way,” Satoru’s fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt as he holds you to him. The curious tilt of your head that’s oh so cute to him is enough for him to continue. “That’s when I fell for you.”

Your eyes widen at the realization you’ve both just confessed. Your heart races in your chest, battering at your bones like a caged animal. “Four years and three months…? What…?” You trail off, brow furrowed.

“We went bowling with Ieiri and Nanami. You and I versus the two of them.”

“I remember.”

“They were beating us until the last frame. You bowled a strike and ran back to hug me.”

The memory feels fresh in your mind as you recall how silly Satoru looked in those oversized bowling shoes. You’d all looked like clowns, but Satoru had playfully dressed the part too in an ugly over-patterned button-up, always the butt of all jokes as long as it meant making everyone smile.

In reality, it was always to make you smile. He never cared about the scoffs and playful banter from the rest of the group. He wanted nothing more than to hear your pretty laugh.

“That’s it?” You ask, mouth agape. You and Satoru have so many similar memories from many years prior, so why that one?

“Dunno. There was just something so endearing about you running into my arms over bowling. You looked so gorgeous.” Satoru pauses for a moment as he grins to himself, reliving the memory. “You were smiling like winning bowling was our greatest achievement, wearing those stupid bowling shoes and you had on ugly socks specifically for the occasion-”

“They were cute,” you pout. “They had snails on them.”

Satoru snickers. “The snails looked high, sweetheart.”

“No they didn’t!” You whine, although you can’t deny the heat in your cheeks as he relaxes with you, observing you with the fondness of someone who never lost sight of you, even when all seemed hopeless.

“Their eyes were literally red.”

“Nooooo,” you whine, jutting out your lower lip. Gojo’s eyes flicker down to your lip, returning to your eyes. “It was just a design choice,” you insist.

“A design choice that made them look high,” he snorts, rolling his eyes.

You laugh through the remnants of your sobs, running a hand over your face in an effort to wipe away what’s left of your tears. To your surprise, Satoru’s hand closes over yours, moving your hand away from your face as he softly wipes your tears away.

“You asked me why I was here,” you state as Satoru watches the movement of his thumb beneath your tearline, wiping the liquid from your lashes. “I think I’m here because it’s the only place that feels right.”

His face softens, and what’s left of his bitterness sputters away like a candle burning out. It leaves warmth in its wake that spreads through Satoru’s body. Although he thinks the pain will take time to heal, it’s not like the hole that you left when you shut him out, one that hollowed his very soul. Time will heal his wounds, he just hopes that this time around, you’ll let him in. Although you’ve both confessed, he knows you well and he can feel the way you’ve carefully barricaded your heart.

For now, he just hopes you can get some rest as he takes note of the heavy dark circles beneath your eyes.

His hands grip your waist, long thumbs settling beneath your breasts, brushing their undersides. You have no bra on, you’re in pajamas that Satoru’s seen a thousand times before. It’s clockwork, the way he shifts you until you’re settled comfortably on his lap while he leans back.

“Movie night?”

You nod, eyes widening hopefully, a familiar sparkle shining within them that warms Satoru’s heart.

He hates to see you cry. It brings him more pain than he could possibly have imagined, even after two years of bitter silence.

He uses his foot to pull the remote on the coffee table towards him without needing to move you off his lap, leaning you both forward before resting back. Your head rests comfortably on his bare chest, his arm circling your waist like it belongs there.

There’s no question of what you’ll be watching as he turns on your favorite Studio Ghibli movie. Not a single memory of you has been lost to him, each one fresh in his mind as though you never left.

He sets the remote down, reclining back on the couch with his feet up on the table. Your knees lean over his thighs, hands resting comfortably on his muscular arms that hold you flush to his skin. Settling comfortably, you do your best to focus on the movie and keep your thoughts from spiraling, although it isn’t so easy.

“I’m sorry, Toru.”

Satoru’s white lashes flutter as he hears your voice amid his near-slumber halfway through the movie. He blinks a few times to wake himself up, inhaling as he looks down at you. Your head still rests on his chest, eyes looking up expectantly at him.

“It’s okay,” he shrugs blearily.

“No, it’s not. It never will be. I’m not asking you to tell me what I did was okay,” you insist. Satoru observes you quietly. You’ve matured over the last two years in ways he’s never considered. “You don’t have to forgive me right now, but I’d like a chance to earn your forgiveness.”

In truth, Satoru thinks you might have had his forgiveness since the moment he saw you standing at the door. The depths of his pain are already long forgotten as his sorrows wash away to leave space for blossoms taking root in his veins.

He’s not one for caution. Satoru has always been the type of man to dive headfirst into something without a second thought, that’s how the two of you ended up in this situation anyways. A joking suggestion on his part taken entirely too seriously to land him the official ‘fuck buddy’ status.

This time, as he dives headfirst into your request, it’s not a joke or a dare or anything of the sort that he’s so used to.

You’re taking this seriously. You’re taking him seriously. Taking into account his feelings of being a second choice, a rebound, and you’ll spend a lifetime showing him he never was to begin with if you have to.

He shoots you a tired smile, head flopping to the side in a lazy fashion. His white hair falls over his eyes, obstructing your view of his gorgeous cerulean irises. “Consider your wish granted,” he agrees.

You return his smile, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair, unaware that you’ve soothed him almost instantly to an easy sleep as his gentle snores fill the air.

Despite the events of the long night and the early morning light beginning to peek through the windows as dawn approaches, you settle into an easy sleep in his arms.

When you awaken the following morning, the two of you have somehow shifted to be on the couch horizontally. You’re tucked between the back of the couch and Satoru’s chest, his arms wrapped protectively around your middle. His breath fans the crown of your head, his grip on you almost suffocating, he's holding you so tightly.

You don’t dare wake him, not after the night he had. Settling back comfortably against his chest, you rest your eyes as you wait for him to stir. It isn’t too much longer before you feel his muscles begin to twitch and the pace of his breathing increases. After a few minutes, his eyes flutter open and he takes in his surroundings, but more importantly, the gorgeous girl in his arms.

It’s a dream he’s had so many times that it can’t be real, can it?

“Ow! Did you just pinch me, Toru?”

“Sorry,” he mumbles groggily in a voice so incredibly sexy you can’t believe you didn’t notice your feelings sooner. “Had to make sure you were real.”

He shifts, moving to pepper kisses over your hair. Your giggles are musical as he showers you in affection, but when he pulls back, he catches a glimpse of… something that he can’t place.

“What’s on your mind, pretty girl?”

Your worries are forgotten momentarily with each pet name he uses, but you find your words soon enough. “I guess I just feel guilty,” you admit with a shrug and Satoru sees it again. He sees the walls you’ve built reflected in your eyes, shadowed with guilt.

“Eh? Nothing to feel guilty about,” he grins, but the look you shoot him in return tells him you’re not in the mood for him to take this so lightheartedly.

“I’m serious. I missed two years of your life.”

Satoru’s thumb rubs circles beneath the fabric of your pajama shirt with one hand, bringing the other up to rub his eyes. He’s not sure he’s awake enough for this conversation. Certainly not in a serious capacity.

“It’s not that long,” he shrugs, moving his free arm beneath his head as he shifts on the couch to lay on his back with you tucked into his side. He stares up at the ceiling. “I mean, you owe me a lot of movie and game nights, but that just means I get to make you pay,” he smirks, prodding your side.

It’s not the serious response you’re hoping for, but it does wonders to quell the nerves bubbling beneath the surface. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You better go easy on me though, you’re not a cheap date.”

He pouts playfully, lip jutting out as he prods your side beneath your ribs. You squeal in surprise at his finger jabbing into your side and in an effort to escape the ticklish sensation, proceed to shove him off the couch.

With a thump and a soft ‘oof’, he lands on his side on the (thankfully) carpeted floor.

“Sorry, Toru!” You squeak, peering down at him.

He rubs his shoulder with a wry smile. “Geez babe, I thought you were trying to make things up to me,” he grumbles as he pushes himself up off the floor.

You flash him an apologetic smile, taking a moment to admire him as he stands at his full height before you. He’s always been handsome, but even in the couple of years since you’ve seen him, he’s filled out and bulked up further. There’s a faint hint of barely visible white stubble growing along his chin and his hair is a breadth longer than you remember and falls in a more intentional manner over his head rather than its usual disheveled style.

He’s breathtaking, and you wonder how you were ever so foolish to begin with.

Unfortunately, he’s also just as frustrating as the day you last saw him.

“See something you like? You know, if you really wanna make it up to me-”

You cut him off by getting to your feet and shoving a hand against his stupidly pretty face, shutting him up with the action as he reels backwards. Catching his balance, he chuckles and trails after you as you walk into his kitchen just as you had so many times before.

Aside from a few new magnets on the fridge and a new set of dishcloths, it’s just as you remember it. Something about the knowledge that even in two years, things haven’t changed so dramatically that you’ve missed everything helps to keep you from feeling guilty.

“You know, I was gonna say if you wanted to make it up to me you could make me breakfast,” he grins cheekily as he leans into your personal space.

“No you weren’t.”

“I thought about it,” he shrugs as you catch him in the act of lying. You can’t resist the way your lips quirk up into a smile. He’s still so Satoru and his presence comforts you in a way you didn’t know you needed.

Opening the fridge, you take a look at what he’s got available, or more like the complete and utter lack of food in his fridge.

“Have you always lived like this?” You ask as you move to his pantry, which is somehow equally empty apart from a jar of peanut butter sitting beside some protein powder and a sickening amount of sweets.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He whines as he stares over your shoulder at what looks like a perfectly full pantry to him. It has mochi and chocolate and-

“What do you even have for breakfast usually?”

He purses his lips, staring up at the ceiling. His hair falls back over his ears as he does so, his skin so perfect you’re almost jealous at just how blessed he is with good looks. “Dunno. Mochi and some eggs?”

You recoil at the thought of mochi and eggs as a meal, nose wrinkling. “What happened to pancakes or omelets? We used to make them all the time.”

Something akin to sadness flashes in his eyes and you turn your full attention to him. “You weren’t there,” he says simply, his voice lowered, his tone unusually vulnerable. “I only really made them because you wanted them.” He doesn’t say it with the intent of making you feel guilty, but your shoulders fall to your sides as your chest coils with the emotion.

“Right.”

“Hey,” he raises his hand to cup your cheek and pull your attention away from your feet. “That’s behind us, yeah?”

Your eyes flit between his, the way they seem to hold galaxies within them. His face is so close to yours that his breath fans your face and your heart speeds up as you glance at his lips-

Like a gentle reminder of your wrongdoing, guilt churns in your chest and you stumble backwards out of his grip. Although he’s already forgiven you and given you another chance with him, you can’t help the way your heart stutters around him and your walls heighten out of fear of fucking things up again.

Yet your behavior only serves to confuse Satoru, who had been so sure you were about to kiss him and his heart is still hammering in his chest as you nearly trip over a flat of outdated soup cans, which is wild because how do soup cans even get outdated?

Before you can crash into the shelves behind you, Satoru reaches out to wrap a strong hand around your forearm and tugs you from the pantry.

“Um-” you clear your throat, trying to divert his attention away from your sudden meekness. “Can we order something?”

Satoru observes you for a moment, his expression unreadable before his usual grin finds his face. “Sure, pretty. You want your usual?”

Your eyes widen slightly, the guilt burrowing itself deeper into your chest as you realize just how many pieces of you remained tightly wound within his life all these years. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

He saunters off to his bedroom to grab his phone and place an order, your eyes trailing after him until he’s out of sight. With a sigh, you bring a hand up to clutch at the shirt hanging over your chest with a photo of a little cartoon kitty on it. Your heart hammers against your hand and you wonder what you’ve done to deserve such kindness from him when you had left him behind so easily.

Well, no, that’s a lie. It hadn’t been easy. It left a hole so deep within you that it tore you from a two year relationship and brought you here to Satoru’s door in the middle of the night in pieces. It was selfish, really, to ask him to help put you back together, and seeing how eager he is to have you back in his life does little to quell the growing feeling of wrongfulness.

With a deep breath, you try to remind yourself of the fact that he’s giving you another chance and you need to use this opportunity to prove yourself rather than shut him out again. Letting the breath out through pursed lips, you pad slowly from the kitchen to the living room, looking around the familiar room in daylight.

The TV is newer than you remember and there are a couple of mostly dead plants that you wonder if he’s ever watered that are new to you. A couple of empty mugs sit atop a table to the side of the couch and there are some new movies and games stacked in the bookshelves at the side of the room.

Before you even realize you’re moving, you stand in front of the shelves. Sitting on one of the lower shelves beneath a thick layer of dust is a small bowl you recognize all too well.

Satoru hadn’t been too keen on the idea of taking a pottery class with you, but he couldn’t resist your doe-eyed pleading. He always was weak for you, and so you had learned how to make bowls together. He had beamed at you upon completing his bowl, showing it to you with such childlike glee that it had warmed your heart.

Taking the bowl delicately into your hands, you flip it and feel your heart clench as you see the familiar initials carved into the bottom. Yours, alongside Satoru’s, with a heart. How had it never occurred to you?

How horribly clueless had you been?

You set the bowl down as your gaze trails the rest of the shelves. There’s a small collection of rocks from each of your beach trips, a strange tradition you had shared after finding a fossil lodged into a flat stone you’d been intending to skip across the water.

Finally, you stare at the empty spot where a framed photo of the two of you once sat. Although the photo was gone, you would never forget the day. You had visited the aquarium together with Suguru and Shoko very shortly after becoming friends with benefits. Suguru had noted that the two of you seemed particularly close, but you’d brushed off his words.

He was right, though. It solidified your friendship. It was the beginning of something beautiful and you regretted ever letting it turn ugly. Blinking, you bring a hand up to your face to wipe away the beginnings of tears when you catch a glimpse of something laying on the top shelf where the frame was just barely in view.

Reaching out, you pick it up and your jaw practically drops, your heart gripped with so many emotions you don’t know where to begin. Relief, longing, fear, uncertainty, guilt, and most importantly, love. Satoru never let go of you.

There, in your hands, is a photo of Satoru grinning with an arm around your shoulders as you peer up at the whale shark behind you, wide-eyed with awe at the beautiful creature. The photo never moved, he’d just laid it down when it became too painful to look at.

“Alright, I ordered all of our favorites and some new things I wanted to try-” Satoru comes around the corner from his room, phone in hand, peering into the kitchen before he finds you in the living room. “They had something called a Croffle, I just had to- are you crying?”

Satoru’s hand falls to his side as he hears you sniffle. You straighten, refusing to face him as you attempt to compose yourself.

He takes a step towards you, setting a large hand on your shoulder as he peers down at your hands. “Oh, pretty girl. C’mere,” he coos, pulling the frame from your fingers with one hand as he wraps the other around you. He sets the photo back in its place on the shelf, upright now, before his full attention is on you.

He sways you softly from side to side, soothing his hand up and down your back as he tucks your head beneath his chin. Your cries are silent, the only sign of your sobs being the way your body shakes and the warm tears that wet his bare chest. He stands with you like that, swaying you gently from side to side and humming gentle “it’s okay”s into the crown of your head for a couple of minutes.

With a sniffle, you pull back and wipe the remnants of your tears, keeping your head down in an attempt to prevent him from seeing your puffy features. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me,” you croak with a half-hearted laugh.

Satoru is silent for a moment as he quietly observes you. “You know,” he starts, “if you keep shutting me out, you’re not gonna be able to make things up to me.”

“I’m not shutting you out,” you retort stubbornly, peeking up at him.

He dramatically swings his head back to stare at the ceiling. “You show up at my door at- what-? Three in the morning? To try to fix things- which is working, by the way- and now you shut me out?” He asks, reeling back and crouching until he reaches your eye level. You can’t escape those stupidly gorgeous eyes of his now, taking in a deep breath as you attempt to compose yourself.

You pull your lower lip between your teeth, mindlessly chewing on it as you consider what he said. You’d be foolish not to take his words into consideration given that he’s right, you are here to fix things, and the fact that he said it’s working sparks hope you haven’t felt in a long time within you. Yet, you’ve upheld your walls for so long that it’s difficult to let him in. Years of rules between the both of you, no kissing, no cuddling outside of aftercare, no PDA, they all still lived within you, even if you wanted to break them down. Sure, the rules were broken often, but not without reminding yourself why they were there later.

Then there were the walls you built to protect the Gojo-shaped hole in your heart. The hole that you couldn’t identify the shape of until now. With Satoru standing alongside you attempting to crawl his way into that hole and fill it, it scares you. Having what you didn’t know you needed for two whole years, if not more, is a terrifying thought.

You glance up at him, patiently waiting on your response as you consider his words while his thumbs rub soothing circles into your upper arms.

With your attention now on him, Satoru takes the opportunity to slide one hand down to your waist, taking a small step towards you until you’re flush to him. You hold your breath at the contact, giving him a wide-eyed stare. His words replay over and over in your mind as his other hand slides up your neck to rest on your cheek. He deftly tilts your chin up as his eyes bore into yours.

“Let me in, sweetheart,” he whispers, his face so close that your entire body feels as though it’s on fire and you can’t help the way your eyes flicker to his lips, so soft and close.

The air between you is charged, tension crackling in the air as the world seems to pause just for you. Your heart beats erratically and you fear it may escape its cage if it pounds any harder.

Satoru swallows hard as his thumb runs across your lower lip. Your breathing speeds up, as though it’s racing with your heart as you cling desperately to his chest like a deer in the headlights. His heart races beneath your fingertips, the only sign that he’s anywhere near as flustered as you are.

“Can I break rule number one?” He whispers, his voice low and sexy in a way that you’ve heard so many times but it’s charged with something new. Something more tender than you’re used to.

You glance between his eyes and his lips, letting out a shaky breath as you throw caution to the wind and slide your hands up to wrap around the back of his neck and pull him the remaining distance down to your lips. Time stands still as his lips softly capture yours, moving slowly as he pours every ounce of adoration into the kiss. As though he fears he may never have the chance to kiss you again, he puts everything he has into it.

It takes only a faint brush of his finger along your chin to tilt your head up to give him better access as his tongue crests your lips. You’re pliant against him, your lips parting for him as he breaks down your walls. His tongue takes over your mouth, his minty taste flooding your senses as his fingers grip your waist almost bruisingly with how tight he holds you.

He hesitates as he pulls back, both of your eyes fluttering open to take in the sights before you as you catch your breath. Satoru’s cheeks are red, white lashes fluttering as he blinks quickly.

“Why did you never say anything?” You ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“You had so many rules. You’d scold me for just putting a hand on your shoulder in public, what was I supposed to do?” He examines the way your expression returns to guilt, pressing a quick peck to your lips once more in an attempt to pull you away from the walls he’s trying to break down. Your eyes shine once again and he lets out a breath of relief. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.”

He kisses you softly again. “Stop apologizing. Just be with me here and now, we can figure everything out, yeah?”

As you nod, there’s a knock at the door and Satoru grins.

“Now come try this Croffle thing I got.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” You tilt your head as you trail after him to the door.

“Croissant Waffle.”

“Right. Of course,” you shrug playfully, heading back to the living room where Satoru sets the delivery bag on the coffee table. The two of you had always had a habit of eating anywhere but the kitchen table and it seemed that wasn’t about to change now.

As he pulls out your favorite order of pancakes alongside his own, you shoot him a lopsided smile at the fact that he remembered every single little detail of your order, right down to the specifics of no whipped cream as it was too sweet. He always insisted it was perfectly sweet, but maybe that’s just because of how saccharine Satoru himself is.

“Okay, I got a sweet and a savory one,” he beams, holding up what you can only assume is the Croffles. They seem to be just croissant shaped waffles, though you assume the dough is likely flaky.

“There’s no world where you eat the savory one, so just give me that one,” you chide with a roll of your eyes.

“Ouch,” he pouts, “I’m an adult, you know. I can eat it.”

“Satoru Gojo,” you get his attention and his back straightens as though he’s in trouble with you. “Look me dead in the eye and tell me you would eat your pancakes and a savory Croffle.”

The way he avoids your gaze tells you everything you need to know and you burst into laughter, followed shortly after by his own. You snatch the savory Croffle from his hands as the two of you share your favorite breakfast once again. It doesn’t surprise either of you to find the Croffle is also delicious and you may need to change your orders. Then again, everything from this restaurant is delicious.

“I missed this,” Satoru hums as he adjusts the way he’s sitting on the floor, leaning on his elbow over the short coffee table.

“Me too,” you hum, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you set your breakfast down to stare at it.

“Ah-!” Gojo blurts out a noise and just as you look up at him, he’s tackling you to the floor, pressing short and chaste kisses to your lips followed by your nose, your cheeks, your chin, and your forehead. He peppers them across your face as you squirm beneath him, laughing as he refuses to relent.

“Toru! Toru, stop!” You whine through giggles, pushing against his chest.

“Nope! Not until you stop trying to shut me out,” he insists, his hair draping around your face like a curtain as he holds himself just above you, pressing more chaste kisses to your face and lips. In an effort to stop his relentless attack, you pull him down and deepen one of his kisses. He hums contentedly into your lips, letting you lead.

You move slowly at first, cherishing the gentle feeling of his soft lips, but the way he treats you as though you’re porcelain causes something to coil in your stomach and you greedily pull him down harder, deepening the kiss as his lips part. Your tongue explores his mouth, the taste of sugar and syrup fresh on his lips but it’s the way he whines that sets your stomach on fire with need.

You part from him, the evidence of your lust now wet in your panties as you stare at him with blown pupils. He recognizes the look on your face and tugs you to your feet in one fluid motion. Like every other time you’ve done this dance, you figure you’ll end up in his arms, making out as he stumbles to his bedroom and tosses you on the bed, but to your surprise, he instead scoops you into his arms bridal style.

You yelp in surprise, snaking your arms around his neck as you cling to him. “Toru?” You question as you peer curiously up at him. He shoots you a genuine smile, filled with glee.

“Lemme treat you like a princess for once,” he grins. Your face softens and you bury your face into his chest. Who would have thought your eager fuck buddy would be such a romantic sweetheart?

He sets you gently on his bed before sitting beside you, the bed sinking beneath his weight. To your delight, he pulls you into his lap so that you’re straddling him. Leaning back towards him, you capture his lips in an eager but passionate kiss and it seems the dissolving of your rules has changed the way it feels being with him.

Where once you kept kissing always off the table, the addition of it changed the entire tone of being in his bedroom. Where once you would eagerly fuck like rabbits, using the act purely as a way to relieve stress and have some fun, now it feels like a union of years’ worth of emotions. The way Satoru holds you as though he’s afraid the moment is fleeting, the way he puts his soul into the kiss just as you do, it’s a moment you know will play in your mind like a movie years into the future.

Satoru moans needily into your mouth as you let your hands roam, exploring the peaks and valleys of his abs. He’s grown bulkier since you last saw him, clearly continuing to work out. When your eyes flicker open as you catch your breath, his eyes are locked on you with a look of wonder that’s entirely too sweet given just how badly you want to see him between your thighs.

You set your hands on his collarbones, pressing him down onto his bed. You’ve had sex more times than you can possibly count, but everything about this still feels new. Satoru has always been fairly dominant, but the man looking up at you now is needy with lust and willing to relinquish all control to you. He’s looking at you like you hold the sun up in the sky and he wants to worship you for it. His gaze holds such adoration that you could melt into him.

You grind against the growing bulge in his sweatpants as you lean down and hungrily capture his lips, tugging his bottom lip with your teeth. He whines into your lips, sliding his large palms along the length of your curves. He tugs your pajama shirt over your head, breaking the kiss only to toss it aside before he pulls you back to him.

Parting from the kiss to catch your breath, you trail the tips of your fingers down his broad chest, past his chiseled abdomen, until your featherlight touch reaches the waist of his sweatpants. His cock noticeably jumps beneath you and oh how Satoru yearns to submit wholly to you, to be yours and let you do anything you wish to him.

Satoru’s pupils are blown with desire, his jaw slightly ajar as he stares at the swell of your breasts, admiring the way you look on top of him, so pretty. You smirk at his reaction to a simple drag of your fingers along his skin, wondering what else you can elicit from him now that you have him laid out beneath you.

Now that you’ve tested the waters, you cup Gojo’s face gently as you press a kiss to his lips before sitting up on your knees to shimmy out of your shorts and panties. Satoru thinks he may actually be seeing stars when your fingers card through his hair and you sit on his face. You sharply inhale when he moans at the taste of your pussy, at being used by you and the way his lips vibrate from the guttural noise sends white hot lust straight to your core.

“Shit, Toru-” you breathe out, throwing your head back as he laps at your entrance, pressing chaste kisses to your clit that have you whimpering as you rock your hips forward with need. The additional pressure you place on him that restricts his breathing subtly sends him into a haze of pure lust as he tightens his grip on your thighs and plunges his tongue between your folds.

As you pant and fist his hair harder, Satoru’s tongue delves deeper until he’s tongue-fucking you so well you’re seeing stars. “T-Toru- hah- don’t stop,” you pant, legs trembling as he eats you so expertly you’d think he’s a professional. With how many times he’s eaten you out, he may as well be. He still knows exactly what you like as he nudges your clit with his nose, sending sparks through your body like only he knows how to.

Grinding harder against his tongue, Satoru relishes in the sounds of your pleasured pants and moans mixing with the obscene squelching of his practiced tongue as your gummy walls pulse around him. He can tell you’re close by the way you grip him, the way you tug his hair and subtly restrict his breathing between your thighs in an effort to chase your high.

Your stomach tightens and twists as you hurtle closer to the edge and you lean forward, eyes locking with the definition of an angel beneath you. “Look at me, Toru,” you pant between pleasured mewls. One look from those lust-blown eyes sends you over the edge and you collapse forward as your body trembles and shakes.

With languid licks up your folds, Satoru draws out every last drop of your orgasm, eagerly drinking up every last bit until you weakly push his head back into the mattress out of overstimulation. His lips are parted as he pants weakly in an effort to catch his breath.

“Tastes so good,” Satoru moans from beneath you. You take the opportunity to push yourself back up and slide down his torso somewhat to look at him, shooting him a lopsided smile. He grins back at you, slick dripping down his chin.

“You’re still so good with your tongue,” you whisper in a sultry voice. He swallows hard, his abs noticeably tensing beneath your thighs as his cock jumps. All these years and you had absolutely no idea Satoru got off so much on praise. “Such a good boy,” you purr, testing just what sets him off.

Immediately, his fingers tighten bruisingly on your thighs and he whimpers. “Please, baby. I need you.”

Your lips curl into a devious smirk as you slide down his body until you’re on your knees at the base of the bed. Satoru sits with his legs thrown over the edge and a look of pure eager desire as he watches the way you slowly leave a trail of kisses up his thighs.

There’s a noticeable wet spot on his gray sweatpants from where his cock is steadily leaking with pre-cum and you tease the spot with a kitten lick and a glance up at him. Satoru whines, relieved when you tug his sweatpants down to the floor, his blue boxers following shortly after. His cock springs to attention, the tip swollen and leaking for you.

Just as he thinks you’ll bring him relief, you duck your head down to kiss a trail up his inner thighs once more. Satoru mewls, babbling out a needy “please- please, sweetheart, please,” as he attempts to direct your lips to his jerking cock.

The sound of his begging is intoxicating but you want to drag out the pleasure for you both. “Let me take care of you, Toru,” you hum, pulling away when he attempts to move his hand to your hair. He lets out a broken groan as his hand goes back to the bed, gripping the blankets beneath with enough force to turn his knuckles white. “Good boy,” you purr.

Satoru’s breath hitches, pre-cum leaking from his cock as it jumps again, aching for your touch. Sparing him of your teasing, you finally swirl your tongue over his swollen tip. He lets out a tortured groan, his abs contracting with the effort of not immediately cumming onto your lips, so needy for you that he’s not sure he can last.

“Sh- Shit,” he whispers, watching intently as you lick a stripe up his length so slowly that he mewls. The amount of time he’s spent fantasizing about this moment is shameful, really, and now that it’s here, he’s sent into a frenzy. His thighs are twitching, abdomen clenching with the effort of not blowing his load immediately.

“Tell me what you want, Toru,” you whisper, your breath ghosting warm over his leaky tip.

“Need you, baby, need your lips on me so bad, please pleasepleaseplease-” he babbles out, swallowing his broken moan when you teasingly kiss his tip, chasing after his desperate reactions. Pleased with his begging, you take his cock between your lips, sinking down slowly over him as you take him to the hilt.

His cock nestles into the back of your throat as you choke on his length. Bobbing your head as you set a slow pace, Satoru’s brain turns to mush as pleasure courses through his body. You take him so well and he’s already careening dangerously close to the edge of an orgasm, abs clenching as he throws his head back when your pace picks up. What sends him over the edge is the feeling of your little hum when you take him down to the hilt again.

His hand reaches out to hold you steady as a broken cry leaves his lips when his orgasm comes crashing over him suddenly, cock pulsing as he paints your throat with his arousal. You swallow it with a hum that makes his whole body jolt. He gently pulls your lips from his cock, leaning back on his hands as he comes down from his climax.

A chaste kiss left on his cock makes him shiver. Glassy eyes meet yours, pleasure swirling within the barely visible blues of them. “Such a tease,” he murmurs before pushing himself up the bed and flopping down on his back.

He smirks at you as you slide back on top of him, your wet cunt grinding over his hardened length. “So fuckin’ gorgeous,” he groans, warm hands coming to rest on your hips. Rocking your hips back and forth as you chase the friction you so desperately crave, Satoru throws his head back. “Fuuuuuck, pretty. So fuckin’ good.”

You lean down to kiss him, slowing your ministrations as you capture his lips in a heated kiss laced with your own desperation. His tongue eagerly explores your mouth again, the taste of him fresh on your lips. Every second of you on top of him sends him into a spiral of glossy-eyed pleasure that he hopes he can bask in for the rest of his life.

When you pull back suddenly, he whines, sitting up on his elbows to watch your movements as you slide down the bed with a predatory gaze. His lashes flutter as you intently watch his reaction while you spit on his swollen cock head. His jaw hangs slightly open and he groans when you use your thumb to spread the saliva down his shaft.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groans unevenly between shallow breaths. His length jerks as you slowly pump your hand, so slowly it’s painful. “Baby, ne-need you,” he babbles, bucking his hips to chase the friction of your hand.

You grin, kissing his tip. “Yeah, Toru?” You purr, reveling in the way he turns to putty in your hand. “Think you’ve been a good boy for me?”

“Mhm. Wanna cum inside you,” he pants, raking his hands through your hair.

Your breath hitches as you crawl back up his body and position yourself over his twitching length. You don’t have the strength to tease him anymore, more for your own sake than his.

“Please,” he begs once more, leaking pre-cum as he waits to feel your walls squeeze him. No matter how many times you’ve had sex, this is entirely different. This is full of a new kind of desperation, full of a new kind of adoration as you grip Satoru’s shoulders tightly while sinking down on his cock slowly. Satoru’s long thickness makes you moan as you break past the first ring of resistance.

Your pussy is heaven for Satoru, a moment he’s dreamt of so long he has half a mind to pinch himself to make sure this isn’t the world’s most vivid wet dream, but he’s entirely too fucked out to manage a sane thought.

“So tight, love,” Satoru moans, his grip bruising on your hips. Every bone in his body begs him to fuck up into you, desperate to feel your gummy walls milk him. 

You hold still for a moment as you adjust to his length, whimpering at the feeling of his cock twitching within you. As the pain of the stretch turns to pleasure, you begin to rock your hips slowly, leaning back on his cock as it brushes your g spot and bliss floods your body.

Suddenly snapping, Satoru grips you tightly as he matches your rhythm and rocks his hips in tandem with yours. Every stroke of his cock within you pushes you both closer to the edge and as your nails rake his chest, you can hardly manage a coherent sentence.

“Toru- so big-” you moan, your pussy fluttering on his length as he needily whines along with your words.

“Shit, not gonna last long baby, I’m-” he watches your heavenly expression as you whimper and babble through your own words, both glassy-eyed and fucked out. He can tell you aren’t far behind him in spite of how teasing you’ve been all night, increasing the pace that he rolls his hips at until he feels your cunt pulse and your orgasm hits you like a wave.

You hunch over on him, your pace slowing to a halt. Your body trembles with the strength of your climax and your walls milk Satoru’s orgasm from him at the same time. “Fuck- nngh- feelsogood-!” He slows his rhythm as he works wave after wave of both climaxes out, chest panting from the overwhelming feeling of reaching such a high with you.

The sounds of your breaths fill the room as blood roars in your ears. After a moment of catching your breath, your eyes flutter open to find Satoru already staring up at you. His eyes are glazed in pleasure, but the look of pure adoration is what makes your heart flip. If your cheeks weren’t already flushed, you’re certain the look he’s giving you would have that effect.

“Toru?” You breathe, staring down at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispers as his breathing begins to steady. You can’t help the grin that spreads over your features as you giggle at the man beneath you. Both of you so clearly spent in the afterglow of sex, and he’s being entirely too cute with his cock still nestled deep within you.

Sucking a breath through your teeth, you push yourself off of him, flopping down on the bed at his side as his slick drips from your folds and paints your thighs.

Comfortable silence settles between you both as you bask in the moment. Sparrows sing outside the window and the faint sound of distant traffic breaks through what’s otherwise a silent room. Your mind wanders to every moment in the past where Satoru shot you a longing gaze, where his words implied more than just friends. To each moment where you had brushed him off, assuming he was just pushing your buttons because that’s just how he is.

Now, each one of those moments held a different, new meaning. You turn your head to take in the sight of Satoru. He looks angelic in the morning light with his hair slightly disheveled, skin warmed by the sunlight peeking through the blinds.

“Where do we go from here?” You ask suddenly, pulling his attention to you.

Cerulean irises take in the sight of you just as you had done for him. It takes him a moment to reply, admiring your features and committing your face to memory as though he might lose you if he utters the wrong words. “As long as you’re by my side, I’ll go anywhere.”

“Satoru that’s… Cheesy and not what I meant,” you giggle. “But I’d love to start with a date. I know it won’t begin to make it up to you, but-”

“Sweetheart. Stop,” Satoru leans up on an elbow, kissing you so softly you would assume he thinks you’re glass. “I forgive you. I forgave you the moment I saw your pretty face last night.”

“Toru, please, let me make it up to you-”

“I forgive you. I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you. Okay? Stop worrying.” He peppers kisses over your face amid playful giggles as he speaks, eyes warm with mirth.

“Let me take you out, then. Just- Let me do something, at least,” you insist.

“Yeah, gonna plan something, baby?” Satoru smirks, pressing a kiss to your collar. You nod eagerly. “Sounds like a plan, then.”

Sitting up, Satoru shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. Quietly, you admire the musculature of his back and arms, smiling to yourself. You have to consider yourself lucky that you have this chance at all, grateful you didn’t miss your opportunity with the angelic man.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Satoru hums as he bounds to his feet. In spite of his own tiredness, there’s a pep in his step that makes you grin.

“Satoru?” You call after him before he can disappear, sitting up on the bed. He pokes his head back around the corner, giving you his full attention. “Since we’re doing everything out of order anyways, uh-” you hesitate for a moment, not because you doubt what you’re about to say, but because you don’t want to scare him off. “I love you.” Although it’s an admission you made last night as well, without the tension of the prior night it holds a new meaning.

His expression softens but his eyes seem to glow as he grins. Giddily, he quickly makes his way back to your side and kisses you with all the passion in the world. “I love you too, you gorgeous, wonderful, maybe a bit sticky girl.”

You wrinkle your nose at him. “Did you have to mention the sticky part?”

Bounding back over to the ensuite door, he hums affirmatively. “Yeah, if you keep calling me back and don’t let me clean you up.”

And with that, he disappears to grab a warm cloth as you stare with a smile at the place where he just stood. You sigh to yourself at how goofy Satoru has remained over the years, always the butt of the joke and the life of the party.

Now you think he just might be the light of your life too.

masterlist || kinktober 2024 masterlist

𓉸 a/n ; i don't know what happened this was meant to be like. 3k words of pure smut. but here we are so i hope you enjoyed! ♡ writing sub!gojo was a CHALLENGE for me it's not my usual thing so i hope i did it justice. as always likes, reblogs, and comments are super appreciated :))

𓉸 taglist ; currently open. please comment here or on the masterlist to be tagged in the rest of my kinktober work ♡ @tojis-ball-sack @rathreads @sukunadckrider @nxcxllxsevens @r0ckst4rjk

[moonstruckme]

hi, my love! i hope you’re doing okay!

i’d be really interested to see the protectiveness of the marauders and how it plays out in a poly!marauders dynamic. say something happens to r (can be as minor or as severe as you prefer). how would each marauder react and how would their dynamics bounce off each other? would it make the situation better or worse?

I find it funny picturing r attempting to wrangle all three of her boys from throwing hands (especially if it was a mistake or a miscommunication between r and the “offender”) and they’re bouncing off each other and riling themselves up more and she’s just like, ffs I’m so sorry and tries her best to manhandle her three boyfriends away for a stern talking to. Like, thank you guys for protecting me and all that but a) t’was a mistake / miscommunication, and b) i can sort my own shit and will ask if i need back up (Sirius in the back like no need to ask, i’m ready to go bby). Everyone’s like wtf Remus?! because he’s usually the chill one and it’s just a cluserfuck of misplaced angst and fluffy humour.

this might overlap with some other requests you’ve written, so feel free to ignore or tweak as you see fit! no idea if this makes any sense but hope it’s fun to write if you decide to!

Hi lovely! I've done a couple fics with protective marauders before, so I wanted to try something a little different based on your prompt. I had a different vision in my head than how it turned out, but I hope you like it <3

cw: alcohol, sexual assault, violence

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words

You’ve been known to be a…somewhat short-fused drunk. It’s not that you’ll get angry with anyone for anything, only that the sort of behavior that you might normally try to ignore, you…don’t. This is usually the behavior of men. 

It’s one of those nights where the club is made up of about forty percent young girls and sixty percent older, eagle-eyed men. You’re glad for your boyfriends, who ward off the other men like a force field around you. You feel lucky to have it and disgusted to need it. 

James’ laughter is loud and bright as you spin him around after he does you. You echo it, pleased at having inspired such a sound. With his large, sturdy build, it’s rare for James to get very drunk, but he’s about where you are now. Which is to say, you’ve been sloppily dancing and giggling with each other for the last hour. 

Remus rolls his eyes fondly when James nearly spins himself out of balance, steadying him with a hand on his back. 

“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Sirius shouts. 

James laughs again, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “Classy, babe.” 

“Bugger off.” Sirius shoves him playfully into Remus’ chest. 

You dance with them both for a minute longer before leaning in to shout, “Okay if I go get more drinks?” 

Remus eyes you both for a second, but nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.” 

“No, stay.” You set a hand on his chest. “Don’t let Jamie dance alone. I’ll be right back, yeah?” 

You don’t give him a chance to respond as you head for the bar. It’s crowded, but you’re not about to worm between some middle-aged men to get to the front. You stand up on your toes and wait to catch the bartender’s eye. 

“What’s your name?” Suddenly there’s a warm body pressed up behind yours, hands on your hips. 

Your blood, already warmed by alcohol, turns hot in an instant. You step forward, too quick for the man behind you to follow. Turn to look him in the eyes. 

“Don’t touch me,” you say firmly. 

“Okay.” The man raises his eyebrows at you. He looks nearly old enough to be your father—certainly old enough to be someone’s father—with waxy skin and thinning hair combed over the front of his head. He’s in a suit like he came here from work. “Sorry, relax. I just think you’re beautiful.” 

“I’m here with someone.” Someones, you could say, but you’ve learned it’s easier in some situations to make it sound like you only have one partner, for brevity’s sake. And there’s nothing you desire more than for this interaction to be brief. 

He gives a little laugh. “Don’t take things so seriously, I’m only complimenting you. Do you like to dance?” 

You give him a hard look. “Only with my boyfriend.” 

“You look like you dance.” His eyes skim down your frame, raptorial. “I can tell. You have the body for it.” 

No sooner does his large, meaty hand connect with your ass than you’re grabbing it by the wrist, your free hand balling and aiming for his face. 

His surprised grunt comes in sync with a “Woah!” from behind you. 

You turn to find Remus and James, looking like they’ve just broken through the crowd. James is staring at you with wide eyes. One of the men near you at the bar sets a hand on your shoulder, pulling you away from the creep and forcing you to drop his wrist, but Remus is there in an instant. 

“Oi.” He grabs you, removing the man’s hand and caging you in his arms. “She’s fine.” 

“She hit him!” the man accuses. The guy from before is leaning forward with a hand pressed over his face. 

James is incredulous. “Did you see what he did to her?” 

The other man looks between you like he’s realized he’s missing something, and Remus takes a couple of steps back from the crowd with you in his arms. Meanwhile, your attacker seems to be recovering from his shock. He lowers his hand to reveal a discolored mark on his jaw, gaping at you. 

“You fucking cunt!” 

James gives him a hard shove, and more shouting starts up around the bar, various other patrons either cheering the fight on or trying to break it up. Remus grabs James by his shirt, tugging him along as he herds you towards the exit. “Alright, we’re going, we’re going.” 

Your journey out of the building is hurried and difficult to follow in your addled state, but everything seems to catch up to you when the dark club gives way to glaring fluorescent streetlights. You bend over under a wave of nausea. 

“Hey.” James sounds more sober than he had a few minutes ago. He stoops to look at you, your eyes wet. “You okay?” 

Remus says something to him quietly, passing James the car keys. He unwinds his arm from around you and kisses your head. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says gently. “Go wait in the car, okay?” 

“Okay…” Your voice is hardly a whimper. “Where are you going?” 

But Remus is already gone, waving down the bouncer outside of the club. 

You turn to James. “Where is he going?” 

Tears blink out of your eyes as you ask. The corners of James’ mouth turn down sympathetically. 

“Oh, my girl.” He wraps a big arm around your shoulders, kissing your head as he leads you towards the car. “What’s wrong? Does your hand hurt?” 

You shake your head, though it does a little. Your knuckles and the tops of your fingers feel odd and sore, and there’s a throbbing that goes all the way down to your wrist. That’s not what’s bothering you, though. You’re not sure if you can pick what’s bothering you. The predatory stares you’ve endured all night; the sickening realization of the man’s body pressed up against yours; his easy, blithe laughter; your own white-hot anger, there and gone before you could take account of yourself—it’s all too much. 

“I can’t believe I hit him,” you admit tearfully. 

James lets out a little laugh. “I saw, baby.” He unlocks the car, opening the back door. 

“I didn’t mean to.” 

“I—oh, okay.” James doesn’t stop you when you don’t get in, instead sitting on the floor of the car with your feet on the gravel parking lot. He sits beside you. “It’s okay if you did. He deserved it.” 

You put your head in your hands. “I don’t hit people.” 

He makes a soft sound. A big hand lands between your shoulder blades, rubbing softly. “I know you don’t, sweetheart. It’s…I get that you wouldn’t usually, but I think this counts as a special circumstance. Rem, he saw what was happening, but we couldn’t get to you fast enough. I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself, you know?” 

You don’t reply, and he lets you sit in silence for a while, your weeping gradually stopping. When Remus comes back, it’s with Sirius in tow. 

“What the fuck happened?” Sirius asks tipsily. “I was looking for you!” 

“Did Remus not tell you?” James sounds excited to be the one to share the news. 

“Alright, dove?” Remus asks at a more reasonable volume, crouching in front of you. “Does your hand hurt? Can I see?” 

“No, he’s being bloody tight-lipped.” Sirius ruffles Remus’ hair. “Just said you had to go. Oi, you alright, lovely?” 

“She punched a guy in the face,” James says proudly. 

“She what?” Sirius’ mouth pops open. You shrink some under his gaze. “Baby, you what?” 

“I didn’t mean to!” you insist, though it’s hard to stay miserable when two of your boyfriends look so obviously delighted. 

Sirius shakes his head, awestruck. “What did I miss?” 

James fills him in quickly while Remus prods at your hand, eventually commending you on a rather clean hit after he’s certain you didn’t break anything. Sirius can hardly keep his mouth shut while James talks, nor can James keep from using a series of vulgar names for the man who’d touched you, though he checks on you a couple of times to be sure his storytelling isn’t upsetting you. When he’s done, Sirius’ stare has darkened, his arms crossing as he leans against the side of the car. 

“Do we think he could perhaps use a matching bruise on the other side?” he muses, gaze flicking to the entrance of the club. “Maybe one of you could point him out to me.” 

“You’ll get to see him soon,” says Remus. You look at him questioningly, but he only gives you a small smile. Cryptic.

“Really, she’s already handled it rather well herself.” James slides his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your head. “You should have seen it, I had no idea she could punch like that.” 

“Me neither,” you sigh. 

Just then, the door to the club bangs open. Two bouncers come out in their uniform black tees, hauling between them another man. 

“Alright, alright, leave off!” The creep from earlier struggles in their grasp. All three of your boyfriends tense. As he comes through the doorway, his discolored jaw catches the light. 

Sirius whistles. “Shit. That is bloody gorgeous.” 

You feel the beginnings of a smile tugging at your lips, but try to remain contrite. You catch Remus’ eye. 

“It was rather impressive,” he says, also smiling. 

You chew your lip. “You don’t think it was wrong?” 

“What’s wrong about it?” Sirius asks. “He touched you, you touched him. I’d have done the same if I were there.” 

Remus rolls his eyes. “We know, love.” 

“I’m just saying, I could make it symmetrical…” 

“No,” Remus says sternly. He helps you up, ushering you into the backseat. “It’s time to go home.” 

James buckles in beside you while Remus gets into the driver’s seat. Sirius lingers outside the car. 

“He’s not gotten far yet, are we sure…” 

“Aw, baby, does your hand hurt?” James asks loudly. 

Sirius turns, crawling in to get a look. “Shit, did you bruise something? How’d you make a fist? Show me.” 

James reaches across him to shut the door, and Remus drives away.

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Ok, imagine this. Lewis being a father and when he is at Ferrari, his daughter is helping him with his Italian, because daughters mother is from Italy. Maybe Lewis and the Mom still being good friends and daughter always spending a few months in Italy since she has been small so that is why her Italian is so good.

Sorry, English is only my second language!

Rosso e Sole

When Lewis stepped into the Ferrari garage for the first time, clad in red from head to toe, there was a buzz in the air. Not just because of the legend now standing under the Prancing Horse emblem, but because standing beside him, a touch shorter than his shoulder, was a girl with wavy dark hair, sun-kissed skin, and greenish-brown eyes that sparkled like the Italian coast.

Her name was Yn. Sixteen, confident in her quiet way, and with an Italian lilt to her English that made the engineers smile every time she spoke.

“Papa,” she said that morning, standing just outside the hospitality suite, looking up at her dad who was clearly trying to memorize his morning briefing in Italian, “you just said the car is made of bread. You meant carbonio, not pane.”

Lewis blinked down at her. “Wait, really?”

“Veramente,” she smirked. “You said: ‘la macchina è fatta di pane.’ Which would make for a deliciously fragile car.”

He groaned. “Oh my god. Why is this language so hard?”

Yn shrugged, stepping up beside him and tapping on his tablet. “You’ve just got to stop trying to make everything so literal. Italian is a feeling, not a formula.”

Behind them, a few of the mechanics stifled chuckles. One even whispered to a colleague, “La ragazza di Hamilton è meglio di lui in italiano.”

And she was. Always had been.

Yn was born under a hot sun in Tuscany, in a small private hospital where her mother, Maria, had insisted on giving birth near her parents’ home.

Lewis had been there, holding Maria’s hand, tears falling on the baby’s blanket when Yn let out her first cry. They had been young, ambitious, wildly in love, but even then, they both knew that love alone wouldn’t be enough to build the life Yn deserved.

So when Yn was barely a year old, Maria and Lewis sat together on the terrace of Maria’s father’s home, drinking espresso while the baby slept inside, and made a decision that would shape the rest of their lives.

“We’re not going to make each other happy, not in the way we thought,” Maria had said softly.

Lewis nodded, fingers fidgeting with the sugar packet in his hand. “But we’re going to make her happy. That much, I know.”

And they did. They built something beautiful out of what they had. A friendship that turned into a lifelong alliance. Two worlds that somehow always made space for each other.

Yn grew up between two countries, two languages, two lives. When her parents had to be away—photo shoots in Paris, testing in Bahrain—she’d stay with her Nonno and Nonna in a house full of lemon trees, espresso machines, and old records of opera playing in the kitchen.

She never minded. She never resented it. Because her parents never made her feel like she came second. Every reunion was filled with joy, every phone call with love. They never missed a chance to tell her she was adored.

Now at sixteen, Yn was becoming her own person—curious, witty, always carrying a journal around to sketch or write little thoughts in Italian and English. And since Lewis joined Ferrari, she had become somewhat of a celebrity in the paddock.

“Hey, principessa,” called one of the engineers as she passed the garage entrance. “Did your papa learn how to say ‘rear wing’ yet?”

“Not unless he wants to tell you about his red wine again,” she quipped, without even turning around.

That afternoon, Lewis and Yn sat together under the canopy outside the Ferrari motorhome. She was scrolling through her notes app where she’d written down a few helpful phrases for her dad to memorize before his post-qualifying interview.

“Okay,” she said, handing him her phone, “repeat after me: La macchina ha avuto un ottimo bilanciamento oggi.”

Lewis furrowed his brows. “La macchina ha avuto un ottimo... bilanc... bilanciamento... oggi.”

“Perfetto!” she grinned.

“Wait. What did I just say?”

“That the car had great balance today.”

“Right. That’s... true, I guess. We can pretend it did.”

She laughed, and then leaned over to fix his collar.

“Fans love this, you know,” Lewis murmured. “Us talking like this. Teaching me Italian. You’re becoming more famous than me.”

“Impossible,” she teased. “But they do like it. Especially when you mess up.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Papa,” she said, her tone suddenly softer. “You know I love this, right? Being here. With you. Watching you race.”

He looked at her then, his expression warm, the lines around his eyes softening. “You don’t think it’s weird? That we missed so much time together when you were younger?”

“Not weird. Just… life,” she shrugged. “I never felt unloved. Not once. And I always had Nonna and Nonno. They taught me how to cook and yell at the TV during football.”

“I owe them everything,” he whispered.

“We all do,” Yn replied.

There was a beat of silence between them before Lewis spoke again.

“Do you ever wish we’d done it differently? Your mom and me, I mean?”

Yn tilted her head thoughtfully. “Maybe. But then I wouldn’t be me, would I? I wouldn’t have grown up between London and Florence. I wouldn’t have learned to be strong, or independent. I wouldn’t have learned to miss people and still love them just the same.”

Lewis stared at her for a long moment, then pulled her into a hug. “You’re too wise for your age.”

“I read a lot of Italian poetry,” she smiled into his chest.

That Sunday, after the race, Yn stood in the paddock, holding her dad’s race suit jacket while he did interviews. As usual, she corrected his phrasing gently when he slipped up.

“No, Papa, it’s soddisfatto, not soffritto. You just said you were ‘onion-fried’ with the car’s performance.”

Somewhere nearby, a fan held up a cardboard sign that read: Yn for Italian Teacher of the Year!

Maria arrived a bit later, fresh from a photoshoot in Milan, her heels clicking on the pavement. She waved at Yn, who ran into her arms, and then the two joined Lewis for a brief chat near the motorhome.

“We’re thinking of renting a place in Rome for the summer,” Maria said. “You should come.”

Lewis raised a brow. “You mean all three of us?”

“Why not?” she shrugged. “She’s growing up. We should enjoy the time we get.”

Yn beamed. “Can we? Please?”

Lewis smiled. “Only if you promise to keep teaching me Italian.”

Maria smirked. “And maybe some fashion, too. You still can’t dress without her help.”

“Rude,” he said, but laughed.

As the three of them stood there, blending the past and the present, the paddock moved around them, fast and loud. But in that moment, Yn didn’t feel like a girl caught between two worlds. She felt exactly where she was meant to be.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

-💚🐍

[yieldtotemptation]

DEALS ft. Miyeon

... is this thing on?

written as a very late addition to @i-am-lifeform24's project.

miyeon x male reader smut

2k words

"Now that you're done with that," Miyeon starts, her voice firm, confident. The voice of someone used to giving you orders. "Take off your clothes."

The command hangs in the air between the two of you, and suddenly you’re under a microscope—but where most people would squirm, you stand tall.

"Okay."

"Okay?" If she was expecting a challenge, she wasn't going to find one here. After all this time, you know what she's looking for—what she expects from you—someone that can match her, that can meet her on her level. "No questions?"

"That is the deal," you answer matter-of-factly, your t-shirt already half-way over your head. "Money for my time, anything goes."

"Anything," she echoes, her usual stone-cold expression betrayed by a hint of excitement playing in her eyes, somewhat surprised that she managed to push the terms of a contract once made between two teenagers who didn't know any better into new territory.

Anything used to just mean silly tasks—cooking, cleaning, doing all the things that would absolutely not be suitable for her to do—but all just being an excuse for keeping Miyeon company.

That was until now.

Still, you don't have time to think about what’s changed between you fixing her sink and her watching you take off your pants—she’s decided that now is as appropriate an occasion as any to test your limits, and you’ve never been known not to oblige her.

It's only when you're stepping out of your briefs that you catch it—that break in her facade, the slight blush that creeps up her cheeks, that indication that maybe Miyeon isn't so far above the rest of Earth's mortals as she would like you to think.

"Having trouble finding somewhere to look?" You can feel her eyes following you, scanning up and down your body as you fold your clothes neatly, placing them on a corner of the nearby couch.

"The opposite." Whatever crack you just saw in Miyeon's composure is gone as quick as it arrived, and she's all business again, walking over to you, heels that let her meet your eyes clicking against the cold living room floor. "I don't have anywhere I don't want to look."

It's no secret that you feel the same—she's an absolute work of art. It's in the sway of her hips, the curve of her waist, the swell of her lovely, petite breasts under her sheer, near see-through shirt. But you're not here to just admire her. You're here to serve, to satisfy, to be of use.

She stops, close enough that her exhales become your inhales, close enough that the smell of whatever she's wearing—something smoky, something ludicrously expensive—drives you wild.

Close enough that when her eyes alone make you twitch, she feels it brush against her waist.

"Look at me."

Another demand obeyed—all part of the deal.

Maybe it's the light, maybe it's the proximity—her eyes are darker than you remember, a deep brown that would swallow you whole, if only you'd let them.

"Hands," she says next, and she's taking hold of your wrists, pulling them to her, to her body—her unfathomably-tight waist—squeezing down on your fingers to make sure she's locked in your grip. "Now kiss m-"

You're jumping the gun, pulling her closer to you, pulling her lips into yours, warming your tongue with hers, tasting sweetness, tasting her eagerness—or more correctly, her neediness.

She’s opening the door a little, letting you discover a part of her that she's been hiding from you, truly meeting her for the first time—her left hand finding the nape of your neck, her right reaching down below, wrapping fingers around you, holding you against her.

"Mmmph..." She's moaning into you now, her hands are on the move, feeling, stroking—soft, delicate fingers taking your full measure, all the way from the tip... all the way to the base.

It’s making you grow bigger for her, too big for her dainty grip, but she squeezes back against you, gliding her hand up and down, up and down, again and again—all for her pleasure, showing you that no matter how good she's making you feel, it's making her feel better.

That’s when you break the rules for the first time, taking the initiative and running your hands up her back to the lift up her shirt, wanting to catch just a glimpse of more of her flawless, porcelain-white skin. Before you can boldly make your move, she's pushing back against your chest with her free hand, releasing your lips and leaving you with a groan, halting you in your tracks.

"No," she whispers, her eyes darkening with something that isn't quite anger, but is definitely a warning. "Not yet."

A gulp and a nod is all you have for her in response, but it's enough to satisfy her—enough to return her lips to your body, to continue her excruciatingly delightful movements over your shaft.

Her breath is hot, heavy, as she plants kisses on your neck, your collarbone—tracing lines down your chest with her tongue, leaving a trail of goosebumps in her wake. Miyeon's eyes lock onto yours as she continues her expedition, watching you watch her work—watch her make you unravel.

Every movement is intentional—the lower her lips get, the slower her strokes, each more deliberate, each one a silent experiment of how much you can bear.

She takes her time, until at last, finally, she's on her knees before you—no longer stroking, no longer moving—just breathing on you, staring at you, frozen in fascination at your length—at what she's done to you.

And then she licks her perfect, pretty, pink lips.

"Miyeon-" is all you can muster, but it’s too late—she's taking you in—inhaling you—warm—fucking hot—lips wrapping around you, forcing you to hold your breath as she brings you deeper, deeper into her throat.

You had expected teasing, torture even—but not this—not her tongue sliding under your shaft, not her moans around your cock, not her eyes watering as she breathes you in, making a mess of you until her nose has met your chest and your tip has met the back of her throat.

It takes all your strength to keep your knees from buckling as she keeps you there, keeps you down her throat, testing herself against you. The pleasure is overwhelming, intense, but for the two of you it's the power play—she's the one looking up at you, her makeup smudged, eyeliner a disaster—yet she's in complete and total control, feeling your body tighten from just a flick of her tongue, feeling you get closer and closer to the edge.

"Gah-" she rises back up off you, unsheathing your cock from her throat, a glob of her spit following behind her, a glistening bridge from her lips to your tip. She's grinning wildly now, so fucking pleased with herself, so turned on by having conquered you—having conquered your cock. "I did it."

But you don't get to recover—how silly of you to think she would let you—and her lips are back on you, lightning shooting up your spine as she takes in half of you, before releasing—again and again and again.

She's bobbing up and down, putting on a show for you—letting you see how her cheeks hollow, how her lips take you in, how you make her eyes water and how her tongue does it’s best to break you—a masterful dance that somehow makes you feel both worshiped and utterly dominated.

"Mmmmm..." A flick of her tongue against your tip lets you know that she's tasting you, tasting the warm pre-cum leaking past her lips. "I fucking knew it," she murmurs, her voice low, but loud enough for you to hear. "Knew that you would be this big—knew that I could take whatever you had."

"God, Miyeon—" you eke out a groan as she starts to stroke you again, keeping up the pace, keeping up the pleasure.

"Knew that you would taste this good—knew that it would feel this fucking good in my throat."

She doesn't wait for an answer—doesn't need one—her tongue is already back on you, painting your cock with her saliva, up and down, around and around.

It's her moans around you—she's loving this, loving doing this to you—so much so that she doesn't even mind it when you thread your fingers through her hair, pulling on her more forcefully than you intended, desperately pushing more of yourself into her. She takes it, welcomes it, confident that if it came down to it, she would be the last one standing.

You still try—stopping her head still and start to move—start to pound away. Her eyes widen, but she doesn't pull away, not even when you pick up speed, not even when her moans get muffled and you're hitting the back of her mouth, not even when you're the one setting the pace and burying your cock down her hot, tight throat.

It's in her eyes—the challenge, the suggestion—use me, break me if you can—cum—give it to me.

Her hands are on your hips, beckoning you, pushing you to go faster, to fuck her face harder—encouraging you, egging you on. And so you do—you give in to the instinct that's been burning in your veins since she first made you strip for her—you fuck her mouth, her throat, ruin that gorgeous, fucking irresistible face as she struggles to keep up.

Tears are streaming down her eyes now, her breaths coming in ragged gasps around you, but she never looks away—her gaze holding yours, telling you that she's okay, that she wants this—that she can take this.

You shouldn't be fucking her face this hard—it shouldn't be possible to—but you keep going, groaning—"Miyeon", "fuck", "God"—and just when you're about to slip, just when you're about to completely fall apart in her mouth, she forces herself off you, seizing back control and holding you at your base, aiming directly at her picture-perfect visage.

"Cum for me," she squeezes you, wringing you, wanting you. "Do it."

You throb, you explode, you cum, you obey—because that's what she’s asking of you.

It takes every effort to keep your eyes open—to see Miyeon—as you feel the orgasm ripping through your body, the heat spilling from you and onto her face, her chin, her neck—onto a carefully manicured eyebrow, and an undeniably cute dimple. Your cum showers her, paints her, masking her with your release.

And Miyeon takes it, takes all of it, eagerly, smiling up at you through the mess, poking out a tongue to taste as much of you as she can, despite it still overflowing and dribbling down the corners of her mouth.

You shake, you want to collapse, but Miyeon keeps her hold on you, looking up at you like you're her fucking property—and maybe in this moment, you are. Her eyes are glazed over, her cheeks are flushed, and through the cum you can see that devastating smile as she swallows and drinks what remains of you down.

"So fucking good," she whispers, her hand still moving, still stroking you, placing soft, sweet kisses on your exhausted cock, still sending those tingles of pleasure shooting through you. "I knew you would be amazing."

"Fuck, Miyeon."

But she's already rising, on her feet and looking at you expectantly, wiping the excess from her chin with the back of her hand. "I want more," she states. It’s simple. It’s a command. "Take me to the bedroom."

And she's already walking away, peeling off her clothes, soft fabric meeting the floor as you catch a sight of the lovely slope of her back, the perfect curve of her ass—her body bared before you, calling for you to take it.

“Come on,” she calls out to you, “we’re just getting started.”

You stumble forward, following after her—obeying her wishes.

Because why wouldn't you?

That was your deal.

---

A/N: thanks again to @i-am-lifeform24 for actually managing to get me to finish something. what a legend.

[acotarxreader]

Vicious little thing

Eris x Reader

Synopsis: Dressmaker for the Inner Circle was the dream job turn mundane nightmare, all in Court you could never quite warm to. A chance encounter with the infamous son of Autumn leaves you wondering if there's more to life than what it seams (get it lol cause seams not seems)

Warnings: Flirting, banter, Eris pissing Cassian off, angst, descriptions of injury, two males being creepy (but don't worry protective Eris on the scene), jealous Eris, a lil violence and torture, Lucien being an MVP as always

A/N: You guys!! I just have not been in the headspace for writing but I had this written awhile back and I just want to shout out and thank @ninthcircleofprythian @pit-and-the-pen @lady-of-tearshed for helping me out! Let me know as well guys if you have any requests, might get my brain going

----------------------------------------

Of all the places in Night you had accompanied the Inner Circle to, Hewn City was comfortless to you, a specific cold that followed you throughout the Court only amplified off the the dripping stalactites. The slippery cobblestone streets echoed as you moved with slight tension in your steps, fresh supplies tucked under your arm. You practically counted the seconds to when you would reunite with your home deep within the House of Wind, the only place in Night Court with any ounce of warmth for your bones.

A loud bar leaked patrons onto the street, all desperate to escape their daily drivel at the bottom of a keg. Two somewhat large males leaned against the entrance, shouting loud slurs of profanity you ignored while passing, hoping to fade into the background and evade any attention. Unfortunately, you were unsuccessful and soon after felt the eyes of distorted drunken desire bore into your back as your pace quickened.

“Hey, gorgeous where’s the fire?” The voice of pure rust and smoke made the hair on your neck stand up, their footsteps getting louder with the shrinking distance. 

“Oh, no manners baby? How refreshing” The other let a slimy sick laugh leave him as his knotty hand finally caught hold of your forearm, whipping you back to face them, the beautiful fabric sailing to the floor to mop up a muddy puddle.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” The lines on your forehead deepened with disgust as you bent down to retrieve the dripping material.

“Or…” The ever so slightly taller one caught you more roughly by the arm before hauling you forward, dragging you into the mouth of an alley, the other acting as reinforcement.

“Let go of me!” Pure panic left your voice, your head darting side to side for an out as your back was pressed into crumbling brick under your vibrating bones.

“You have to give us a few things first baby” One leaned forward into you as you braced, your wrist being crushed by the other fae, their movement suddenly halting with the addition of a new voice. 

“I don’t think she’s interested fellas” The three of you found your gaze darting towards the tall figure at the end of the alley, a shoulder resting against one wall, hands casually in his pockets as if he wasn’t about to witness a crime against nature. The grip was released on one of your wrists, the taller male unmoving from in front of you while his accomplice began to square off to the still slightly obscured fae. 

Your eyes dropped cautiously down to your side to your bag, trained nimbleness in your hands had you retrieving your fabric sheers, launching them immediately into the thigh of your current captor. A near-deafening roar was released alongside your other arm, the figure at the end of the alley instantly floored the other male with a wave of unseen power. 

You scurried down the alley in the opposite direction of the three, your hands covered in a fine layer of blood that you wiped on your trembling thighs. A flush of heat came from behind you as you reached the mouth of the alley. A curious glance had you witness your perpetrators turned to mounds of ash, the sight turning your stomach into waves of unease. The thought of meeting a similar fate had your feet moving again, only to come flush against a wall-like figure. 

“Where are you going? No thank you?” Eris towered in front of you, a self-satisfied smile scanning unbeknownst to you for any sign of injury.  

“I-um-than-k thank you, General” The words were a rush of syllables followed by a deep curtsey, before you move down the street again, eager to get away from the infamous male. You heard Eris scoff a laugh before he spoke again. 

“Well okay then Ice Princess, maybe next time I’ll leave you?” 

“Do you want a medal or something for doing the right thing?” Once again your tracks were stopped but this time by your own brazen words and the silence from behind you. Turning on the ball of your foot you reluctantly faced the future High Lord, his hands still in his pockets, lips pursed in thought. He could kill you for your insolence and no one would challenge him, you were not even sure anyone would notice you missing until their trousers reached their knees.

“Huh, cute-” He smirked, closing the distance between you in a few long strides “-maybe I do want a medal” You found yourself scoffing at his words, a small blaze seemingly igniting in his eyes at the sound. 

“Get in line, General” A certain playfulness danced in his eyes at your teasing tone, normally not the response he’d elicit from others. You could feel something subtly different in the air, something missing from the mountain’s mist. “Please, call me Eris, or Savouir, lady’s choice” He outstretched a hand you somewhat hesitantly took, not going unnoticed by the son of Autumn. You realised on contact that it was the everpresent chill that you felt that had made its exit from you, flushes of warmth heating your cells gently. Eris turned your hand over in his, scanning over the callouses and their tinge of fresh maroon. 

“A street fighter?” He laughed, eyes tracing the hardened skin. “Dressmaker, for the Night Court” You smiled, taking your hand back, missing the steady pulse of heat his fingers supplied.

“Laborious crowd” His laugh returned the missing warmth to your skin and you found yourself smiling back at the towering male.

“YN?” Your whole body shook at Lucien’s voice across the street, his arms full of freshly purchased supplies for his small apartment in the city. You looked between the two males as Lucien crossed the street to join your side, Eris’s smugness only growing. You and the Prince of Foxes were relatively new friends, his exit from the Spring Court required a whole new wardrobe that you skillfully made.

“Stay away from her Eris” “Oh brother, save us the martyr act” He sighed in almost boredom, amber gaze landing back on you where you could have sworn it softened, no matter how brief. That gentle element died when Lucien’s arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer to his side. 

“Is that blood on you YN?!” the closer proximity opened you to Lucien’s full mother-hen inspection. 

“Yes it is but not hers, quite the vicious little thing you have here” The air of self-righteousness returned to Eris, his best shield to whatever was bubbling deep beneath. 

“Thimble, what happened?” You noticed Eris subtle flinch at Lucien’s pet name for you as he attempted to ignore his brother's presence altogether. You hated the nickname, it made you feel small, and inexperienced, despite being older than Lucien. It began when he remarked on the coarseness of your hands on his skin during a fitting, suggesting a thimble may stave off further damage. You would never see the point in covering what your years of experience had rewarded you with, the scars on your hands were evidence of a master at work, and a thimble would only hide away your efforts although that was a recurring theme for you in the Night Court you felt. 

“Thimble seems an odd nickname, aren’t they supposed to protect you from pricks? And yet here you are Lucien” Your head lowered slightly to hide the deep smirk growing across your face at Eris’s dig, Lucien unable to continue to ignore him.

“I’ll have you kn-” “-Lucien, we have to get back, I’m not finished with a dress” You cut across any possible rebuttal, eager to get out of the thick air between the two brothers, Lucien smiled softly at you before glaring back at Eris. You tilted your head to Eris again in an almost bow, twisting Lucien’s stomach as you began your fruitless journey back to Nesta. 

“Very good little lapdog Lucien, I’d watch her around scissors” He called after the two of you, his own amusement radiating from his voice. 

-

The ball was organised chaos at best, swelling music and overserved fae had you hiding out in the corner of the venue. Not your normal scene however Nesta had begged you to come, if only to witness your beautiful work in action. You had sacrificed one of Feyre’s many dresses as donor fabric to patch together what you could of Nesta’s outfit, neglecting to tell her that of course. 

“YN, this is so borrrrring” Nesta found you through the crowds, sneaking away from her role at the dais alongside her sister. It had been a few hours since the incident, a glass of wine only taking a sliver of the tension you felt about it from you. 

“Don’t worry Nesta, hopefully it won’t be much lo…” you trailed off, your eyes snagging on Eris across the vast dance floor as he both dazzled and terrified the participants in the conversation he held. 

“At least he’s not bad to look at” Nesta tilted her head to the side, inspecting her mission with curiosity as he glided through the crowd.

“Lucien says he’s torturous”

“Bet he’s good in bed” You elbowed her for her comment as she laughed, the whole conversation making you feel like giddy children.

“Perhaps he’ll make a good pallet cleanser from Cassian” she added. “Cassian who’s trying to melt him with his eyes right now, right?” You grinned, Nesta taking a stolen glance at the slowly boiling Illyrian. When Nesta wanted something, she got it and this very core defining personality trait of hers terrified you. You had been on board with the plan up until your own encounter with the heir and yet now you found yourself empathetic to Cassian’s jealousy, no matter how unfounded you felt it may be. The very voice that saved you earlier pulled your attention back into the room. 

“Hello again YN, I was wondering-” “-Who your friend is? Eris, have I really to remind you of my person” Nesta tone leeched a pure sultry decorum you would never be able to mirror. Her body stood slightly in front of you, a hand extended to reacquaint herself with the High Fae, new beats of jealousy pulsed in your veins as they made contact. Your skin crawled and boiled all at once, further tension only being added by Cassian's surveying across the floor. 

“Go find something to busy yourself with YN” Her voice was firm but said with a smile, forever toeing the line between friend and employer. You watched as Nesta masterfully led Eris to the dance floor and began to light the room ablaze with her ease of movement. The room watched on as the two slotted into one another like a lock and a key, your eyes landed on your shoes, anywhere but on the scene in front of you.

“C’mon dear friend, let's see your moves” You looked at the unfurled hand of your dear new friend in front of you, Lucien’s soft smile accompanying it. You laughed lightly as you allowed him to lead you to the dancefloor. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather dance with Elain?”

“But I’d miss you stepping on my toes” he teased as your head tilted back and laughed, despite knowing the answer to your question was of course yes. Now and then while being swirled by the Prince of Foxes, your eyes would cross the path of Eris’s before Nesta stole back the attention. A successful mission up until Cassian’s jealousy could no longer be snuffed out.

—--------------------------------------------------

The gentle pitter-patter of drizzle off the window pane of your workspace filled the room, your hands busy at work, humming along to a tune you heard weeks ago while dancing with Lucien. Back home in the warmest of colds available to you, squirrelled away in mounds of fabric and projects. 

Your hands stilled at the din of distant shouting many floors up through the house. Often you’d ignore any rumblings from upstairs but the familiar sound of a male you’d spent your time trying to forget had your curious feet wandering in the direction of the source. 

“You’re incredulous!” “No, you are!” You peeked through the gap in the huge door that led to one of the grand dining rooms, the two brothers in a stand-off across the large oak table, Rhysand glaring between the two. 

“And you couldn’t have stopped our dear darling father from travelling to Briallyn’s continent?!” Lucien barked, the table shaking slightly. Cassian matched Lucien’s scowl towards Eris, who only allowed a sickly laugh to leave him. 

“And expose myself and this little alliance? I don’t think so little brother! Alec, our father's dear advisor is already getting too curious.” 

“Oh no, nothing to inconvenience yourself!” You flinched slightly at Lucien’s razor-like tone.

“I have inconvenienced myself every day for you!” Eris’s hand shot forward in a dramatic gesture, knocking the large goblet of wine across the table, soaking Lucien as he leapt up from the cold. 

“Fuck! You did that on purpose!” He reached for his napkin to blot the deep stain with no success, Eris now also standing in his own defence. 

“It was an accident, much like your birth, do as I did and make peace with it!” Eris grinned until Lucien swished a wrist, a small ball of flame leaving his fingertips, singeing the jacket and waistband of Eris’s immaculate suit. 

“Lucien!”

“It was an accident” Lucien mimicked, Rhysand now finding his own feet, feeling grateful not to have had any biological brothers.

“Enough! We must leave to meet the other High Lords in an hour and you two are squabbling like children! Lucien, go home and find a new pair of trousers-” Lucien very much looked the role of scolded schoolchild as he winnowed out before further reprimanding “- and you-” Rhysand turned full attention to Eris, who only rolled his shoulders back to accompany a raised eyebrow “-you go and find a curtain or something to wear because if you fuck this meeting up, I will kill you where you stand”

“Aww do you promise-” Eris batted his eyelashes in faux excitement “-I don’t take orders from you”

“Fine, go smelling like a bonfire, see if Rhys and I care” Cassian shot out. 

“Perhaps I left some clothes here after I visited with Nesta the other night” Cassian practically leapt from his chair, Rhysand catching hold of his forearm leaving Eris unshaken. 

“Eris, go be anywhere but here”

“I’d suggest down on your deathbed, I can help you” Cassian chewed out accompanying Rhysand’s order. 

“The only place I’d go down on is the lovely Nesta” Rhysand released Cassian in an instant, springing the warrior over the table, your instinct having you whip the door back on its hinges, the entrance stilling Cassian in confusion as he caught Eris’s collar. 

“I’ll help make something!” You rushed out, unsure of why you were eager to rescue Eris even if it gave away your eavesdropping. 

“YN, know your place” Rhysand warned.

“I mean- c’mon S-sir you have to leave soon and let's be honest, there’ll be questions about why a lord of fire is-is emm burned…or why his face is in pieces for that matter” You watched Cassian release the wrinkled collar, exhaling deeply and jump from the dining table to the floor before striding over to you. 

“At least stab him a few times with pins” 

“Deal” you laughed before standing aside in the doorway for Cassian and Rhysand to pass. 

-

After arriving at your workroom, a flush of self-conscious energy rushed you at the mess you had been living and working in, now under the scrutiny of the son of Autumn. Towers of discarded and active projects cast shadows along the stone of the space, his eyes inspecting the smaller details of the room as you pulled out fabric rolls from the wall. You couldn’t help but notice the warmth in the tall shadows not there previously, its addictive nature nipping at your skin.

“Jacket” You ordered, a hand out to take the sooty material, Eris obliging wholeheartedly, surprising even himself. He watched you inspect it closely, attempting to hide his wonder of you as you sighed. He thought how he would very much love to watch you work, how he may very well do anything you asked of him and how foreign that very feeling was. “Sloppy stitching, conjured I suppose not handmade?” He nodded in confirmation to your question, doing his best to hide his amazement at your assessment. 

“I don’t think this is your colour-” “-Excuse you, this green is one of my court colours, how can it not be my colour?” Eris' anger startled you, snapping you out of your dressmaker autopilot, remembering your company. “Sorry-I emm- not your tone shall we say” Your panicked voice was only silenced by a laugh from Eris.

“Just kidding YN, I’m not offended” “Just a prick” You whispered to yourself as you slipped a pin cushion over your wrist, Eris smiling from behind you. You pointed at the step riser in the corner of the room for Eris to stand on as you gathered your treasure trove of supplies. 

“Take off your trousers” You threaded the soft measuring tape through your fingers from behind him. 

“Not going to buy me dinner first?” He raised his eyebrow to you with a grin you felt that maybe not everyone got to see, his hands undoing what was left of the waistband before he shook off the fragile fabric, leaving him in his undergarments. You took a deep quiet breath before sinking to crouch alongside him, measuring the length of his leg.

“On your knees so soon” You stood instantly again, pushing him playfully, stilling almost as soon as you had moved. 

“Sorry I-” “-I won’t bite you YN, not unless you ask” he winked, causing you to bite the inside of your cheek begging your body not to grin back, instead just resuming your measurements. “I should have let Cassian kill you” You whispered by his calf as he looked down at you. 

“There she is, there’s who’s fun to play with” You could hear his smile, just as you took a pin from the holder strapped to your wrist, poking him into his ankle. He hissed, rolling his ankle slightly away from you as you stood again. 

“That was for the Nesta comments” You put the pin into the cuff of your sleeve, retrieving your scissors and cutting strips of a deep red fabric without the measure, all the knowledge within your head accompanied with years of skill. 

“I was just bored and the big bat is an easy target. I have no intentions of pursuing Lady Death, don’t be jealous” He watched you in the mirror as if afraid to blink and you’d disappear. You forced your focus closer to your cutting, Eris slipping from the step to stalk closer to you.

“Why would I be jealous? I don't even know you” “Odd, I feel like I know you… but regardless, I’d imagine you’d be jealous if your relationship with my darling brother isn’t all you want it to be” You whipped around to him in shock, scissors still in hand. Eris put his hands up in faux surrender while glancing at the scissors, your eyes rolling again, placing the instrument behind you. 

“What? Me and Lucien?” You laughed wholeheartedly, Eris tilting his head to the sound, stepping from the riser. 

“No?” “Now who’s jealous?” he only scoffed at you in reply. 

“Heirs do not get jealous, they get what they want” His somewhat serious tone sent a shiver down your spine, the distance seemingly shrinking between you.

“And what does this heir want?” “Hmm” he hummed leaning forward into the gap, that tempting heat pulling you towards him, every cell screaming for the temperature in your skin to increase, to meet with his, to reach inferno.

“YN, do you have a spare-what’s going on in here?” Lucien stood in the doorway, his suit jacket in his hand, a missing button by the collar. 

“Ever the best for timing dear brother” Eris squared his stance, turning to face his kin as you wished the earth to swallow you whole.

“Let's not get into it in front of the Lady.-” Lucien rolled his shoulders back, unshaken by the sharp tone of his brother “-Thimble, please could you reattach this button? It was the one I used magic to affix and you were right, it didn’t hold” You gave a soft smile, taking it from his hands, reluctantly crossing the path between the two. 

“Come, dear brother, leave my lovely YN to work” Lucien stood back in the doorway to leave space for Eris to pass. A rush of intense heat radiated from Eris at his brother's endearment towards you, his knuckles cracking as fists formed. 

“Won’t you need me for the rest of the fitting?” He looked at you, eyes asking you to beg him to stay.

“I-” “-YN is used to finishing projects down here without the muse, she works better alone right YN?” You nodded slightly at Lucien, his voice no longer toeing the line between friend and employer, the latter taking full effect. You sank back to your work table, tacking together the fabric as Lucien guided Eris away from you, Eris slipped back on the remnants of his trousers before reluctantly leaving. The cold rushed to your bones again as the faint sound of their bickering filled the halls. 

—-------------------------------

Two weeks later

Thoughts of Eris crossed your mind while looking down on the vast woodland of coppers and bronze through a window taller than him. The flickers of rust and chestnut hues pulled you towards them like a moth to flame. You had never been in an environment like it, so famously cold but surprisingly warming to your inner world. Beron had insisted on holding a dinner with Night Court in his home, still believing his trip to Briallyn’s continent was undiscovered. 

“Okay, we go, we hear what nonsense he’s peddling and we compare notes when we get home?” The Inner circle nodded in agreement to their High Lord as he knotted his cufflink into place before outstretching the same hand for you to adjust. Just as quick Nesta called for your attention as Azriel covered a more specific game plan. Nesta had insisted you accompany her, and help to ready her for the meeting, no matter how many times you reminded her that that was very much so not part of your job. 

“It's fine YN stop fidgeting!” She snapped at you, tugging the end of her dress from your grip before she leapt from the riser to take Cassian’s arm as they moved to leave for dinner. You knew she didn’t mean to take you so sharply, she was just stressed, they were all stressed. They were always stressed, they never meant to snap at you, or at least that's what you convinced yourself of.

“We should have left you home where you would be safe” Lucien said softly, pulling you from the step riser again, his thumb sweeping over the back of your hand. You couldn’t help but notice how different his touch was from Eris, and how you wished it was him with you now not Lucien. 

“Stay here YN, I hate it here as much as you, I’ll be as quick as I can back to you” He gave another smile before following the Inner Circle, closing the heavy door behind him. Did you hate it here, you wondered as you wandered around the room at the edge of Forest House, secluded away as you always were in these venues. 

You couldn’t help but listen to a vibrant voice in the back of your mind, beckoning you to come out and play. 

The distant echos of grandeur filled the halls from the dining room at the opposite end of the hall as you crept down the stoneway in the opposite direction. Before realising it, you step to a servant entrance of the grand house, whispers of Autumn guiding you through a place so new yet familiar. Your fingertips hardly made contact with the bronze of the handle before a large weight was thrown deep into your side. Overwhelming, almost suffocating heat swallowed the screams you shrieked, accompanied by a heavy hand as all pulled you from the hallway to an adjacent hallway pantry.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Eris released his hold on you, a flicker of flame leaking from his hand illuminating the closet. You doubled over, arms swaddling your stomach as you caught the breath shocked out of you. Eris's characteristic ironing-board-like posture softened at the sight.

“I-I didn’t mean to frighten you” 

“What-what the-” Eris’s hand reached for your arm, worry radiating before you cut off the action “-what the fuck is wrong with you?! You don’t just grab someone like that!” You righted yourself again, hands finding your hips as the oxygen found your lungs again. 

“Oh, you’re okay, I thought you lost your damn fucking mind coming here!” unfamiliar sharpness crossed his tongue as you scoffed at his heated whisper. 

“I’m here working” “Working? Those morons have no idea what bringing you here could cause!” His hands ran through his hair in frustration, the light flickering with the movement. 

“I won’t cause anything!-” You watched him drag his hands from his hair down his face in pure exasperation “-except it seems a headache for you” You grinned and as much as he fought it, he mirrored you.  

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the dinner?” “And aren’t you supposed to be in your cave of endless fabric?” You rolled your eyes at his rebuttal, moving to pass him only to have a soft touch take hold of your arm. The thud of a palm-sized book tumbling out of his pocket had both your gazes dropping. Surprisingly, you were first to retrieve the ornate book, its cover decorated with expansive drawings of the wood surrounding the Forest House. 

“Your diary?” You grinned, offering it back to him. 

“It’s actually…it’s actually nothing” You pulled it back into you at his ever so slightly panicked tone.

“So it is your diary?” You laughed gently, a slight rush of red growing across the Prince of Autumn's cheeks. 

“Its-its a collection of..of poetry I’m working on” He admitted, fighting his way through growing embarrassment as his eyes fixated on the leather in your hand. You smiled down again at the cover, at the idea of a softer Eris locked behind these pages, a glimpse into his world.

“We have to get you out of here” He said abruptly, as if eager to shift topics away from his hidden hobby. “Fine, I’ll ask Lucien to bring me back there” A pulse of heat radiated between you.

“I’ll bring you” 

“Won’t that impact the whole double agent incognito thing” You smirked, trying your best to not look down towards his gentle hold on you. 

“I’m sure if I murdered Lucien that would impact things more” 

“Remember Eris, I told you that shade of green wasn’t your colour” Silence swaddled the forgotten closet.

“That’s the first time you’ve said my name” The sound of his moniker sent Eris’s grip tightening slightly on your arm. “I’m sorry, was it saviour you preferred?” You hardly whispered, the swift movement that followed had your back pressed into the adjacent wall, Eris’s hand resting above your head, trapping you in the addictive warmth.

“As long as I’m the one you call for, I don’t care what you call me” he allowed himself to confess.

“This feels like a mistake” 

“So was trying to hurt you, I enjoyed every lick of flame that torched those males YN and if it had been any other male other than my brother to dance with you that night they would have met a similar fate” Eris’s smoky voice admitted quietly, amber eyes trapping you in their heat. A warm palm found its way to your waist, ushering you closer to the High Fae behind the walls of an enemy Court.

“So you were jealous?” “Shut up and let me kiss you” Every drop of your blood was heated with the perfect pressure that met your lips and your hand instinctively took a fistful of his shirt pulling him tighter into you. You felt his fingers knot deeply into your hair as his other hand tightened its grip, your mouths slotting over one another in perfect synchronicity. 

“You’re so delicate YN, your Court’s best kept secret and this world's greatest beauty, I feel like a moth to your flame-” Eris’s voice came out husky, starved for your touch “-I couldn’t explain it to myself why I felt like walking around that cursed city that day, the Mother must have known I’d meet you, that I would be drawn to you, that I burn for you” his thumb brushed over your cheek as you rested your head in the palm of his hand. A rush of cold met your skin as Eris fully pulled from you, your balance rocking slightly.

“Did-did I do something?” Eris sighed at your words, a hand tracing through his hair before he turned to face you, eyes ablaze. 

“I-I really feel like you may be worth every risk in this entire world but I am not and I will not risk your safety for my own desire” 

“I can protect myself Eris” “Not from what would seek you out because of me” The both of you stayed in studied silence for a moment, just observing one another and the energy shift between you both. 

“My court will protect me” a low sound growled from Eris's throat in response to you.

“You mean my brother will protect you?  The others care not for anyone but those in their precious inner sanctum” 

“That’s not true, I’m their friend!” You snapped back, your voice rising above a crackled whisper in anger. The words pinged an idea directly into Eris’s head, his way to push you away. “You’re their employee! They take you for granted! You can’t honestly say they treat you well can you? Do you think they’d keep you around if you lost your use to them? Their loyalty is conditional, they can’t be relied on!” A truth you frequently ignored washed over you, too much to take.

“You’ve been away from the table too long General, I must return to work” You offered the almost forgotten book in your hands back to him, his eyes only moving from the binding to your eyes. You scoffed again before moving as quickly as he had brought you to this secluded closet, rushing your away from the heat you wanted to be swaddled in forever. You tucked the tiny book into your sock beneath your dress, perhaps that was his goodbye gift to you you thought. Your path was then interrupted around the corner of the secret haven by the feeling of your body crashing into the solid pushback of metal, your hips meeting the plush carpet. 

“What do we have here?” You looked up through your eyelashes at the striking male, his broad shoulders shrouded in thick copper metal, the Autumn court of arms across his breast. 

You pushed up off the ground, doing your best to ignore your bruised tailbone. The broad, older male scanned you, his eyes snagging on your Court’s emblem stitched into your sleeve. 

“And tell me, what would a member of the Night Court be doing out of the designated area?” 

“I-I was looking for-for the bathroom” He towered over you, the smell of soot and tinder filling your airways, thick enough to choke on. He stretched out a gloved hand, lights flickering in his eyes like a sparking fire. Before you could take his hand, they curled around your wrist, hauling you forward. 

“And yet, I don't believe you” razor words said with a razor grin nicked at your nerves beneath your uniform. 

“Would-would I lie to you sir?” You sank into the lowest curtsey you could manage while still tethered to the burly male. You could feel your fingertips turn blue as the gloved hand took a tighter hold, your voice fighting not to croak as you spoke again. 

“I-I must return to my High Lord” 

“I don’t think so, this little exploration of yours must be reported” Alec snarled down at you, flicking his wrist sending yours back in a conflicting direction, a small yelp leaving your throat. “YN?” The two of you looked to find Lucien, stunned expression turning steely as he looked towards the hold a member of his former Court held on your wrist. He made short work of the distance between you, his warmed hand taking your opposite wrist.

“Unhand this Lady!” He barked.

“Lady? She is staff, staff that was where she shouldn’t have been!” Your head dipped at the ever-present reminder of your differences. Lucien scanned you briefly, a subtly deep intake of air had the scent of Autumn wind and campfire flooding his senses, his brother's scent on you. 

“I perhaps agree with you for once-” Lucien whispered down to you, words tainted with disappointment “-but regardless, she will come with me and her High Lord will take care of matters” Alec's grip only tightened further as Lucien attempted to pull you to his side, another wince decorating your face. 

“Not before my High Lord has a chance to examine what she may have learned”

“What was I going to learn in the bathroom, his Lordship's haircare routine?” Your words surprised you as much as anyone but not as much as the feeling of cracked leather meeting the side of your face, knocking you down to the plush carpet, out of Luciens hold. The side of your cheek felt as though it instantly began to swell, it matched your eyes as tears threatened to fall over the rim. You didn’t stay down for long, Alec hauling you back to your feet by your cracking wrist joint. You could feel the blood run from your lips, your skin fighting to stitch together and failing. Black blotted your vision competing for the greatest pain with your wrist.

“This female is to be brought before the Lord of Autumn. You have no authority here, run along to your master, she comes with me” That’s all you could hear before the black blots overtook the beautiful brass and copper of the Court of Autumn, no longer able to support your own weight. 

—-----------

The low crackle of a cruel flame filled your ears as an unnatural chill stretched from the icy flame. Your eyes flickered like the fire across from your cell, doing your best to come around from the sadistic male’s brutality. The cracking of brickwork met your back as you leaned into it, uncurling your legs from the ball of protection you had attempted to make. The depth of Forest House, far far away from the kind forest spirit voices that beckoned you to play, now replaced with the pained groans of other enemies to Autumn. 

“Wakey wakey” You rolled your head along the stone, supporting its weight as you looked to see the ever-feared Lord of Autumn standing on the other side of the brass caging. The metal shuddered as the guards opened them for their master. You lowered your head slightly, trying to win any favour with Beron, his low laugh your reward. 

“Anything to say for yourself?” You looked back up, fear stealing your voice as he stepped in closer, your bones rattling lowly off the stone beneath you. 

“No? Funny, you seem to have plenty of thoughts to write about” “Ex-excuse me, Lord?” You said quietly, your eyes then landing on the pocket-sized notebook in his cruel hands. You looked between it and its new holder, evident panic on your face, quickly exchanged for pure pain as the Lord of Autumn suddenly shot forward, pressing your body into the cold stone, his grip clutching your throat. 

“Beautiful sonnets and poems and prose, all with the very strong theme of escaping my beautiful court, destroying my beautiful legacy, running off with a beautiful forbidden creature, an accomplice of yours?” His even tone of pure ice contradicted the flaming heat beating through his hands to your throat. He’d kill his heir for his words, destroy him, torture him, make him beg, the idea of any of those outcomes unthinkable to you.

“Do not, DO NOT try to deny it” He tried again, crushing some air from your windpipe free. 

“Father!” Eris bellowed suddenly from behind, a small ease in pressure on your skin.

“Make yourself scarce Eris, I’m busy” His blackened eyes didn’t leave your bloodshot ones. 

“What are her charges?” Eris tried his best to keep the desperate tone at bay, Beron only held out the tiny notebook to his side, his other hand still gripping you. You watched as Eris turned practically to match the colour of your own oxygen-starved skin. 

“And she-she has admitted to that being hers?” “She was about to before your interruption!” He barked back at his eldest son, before allowing enough air into your lungs so you may speak. You looked over his shoulder to the Heir of Autumn, his eyes sunken in from worry or lack of sleep or both, you weren’t sure. You weren’t even sure how long you had been down there, how long before your Court would come for you if they even would come. These questions plagued you endlessly and now you were finally about to meet your end, your answer of who would come if you really needed help answered right in front of you in the russet eyes of a male you took stolen moments with. The male who believed himself not worthy of anything other than pain. You would not die with him believing this. 

“It’s min-” Your rasped lie cut off a flush of heat pulsating around the entire cell, Beron’s gaze snapping back to his son, a full release of pressure met your throat, your body sank to the ground, muscles screaming out for the rush of returning oxygen. You propped yourself up on your well-worn hands, fighting away blurry vision. Eris stood, shoulders settled back, flames like globes in his hands. 

“Alec, that’s Alec’s, there's more in his quarters. Go search them and you’ll see, no need to declare war with Night Court by slaughtering one of their courtiers” Pure confidence beamed from Eris, a grin then decorating his face as his father tilted his head in thought. 

“Think about it Father, it has to be someone with more access than a dressmaker? Someone with the intelligence to weave plots into poems, do you really think that a female would be capable of such?” Your heavy breath remained down towards the brick floor you looked down to, its small stones breaking away and burying into your palms and knees. You knew he saw you as more than that, and you trusted that he saw you as more than your court saw you as. You trusted him you realised. You heard Beron hum in quiet contemplation before looking back towards you, your hair matted in knots, uniform in tatters, the perfect image of weakness he believed all females had. Beron gestured quickly with his chin, his armed guards launching into action to search the quarters, no doubt going to find carefully planted prose and poems, damming in their divinity. 

“A dressmaker?” Beron questioned you once again, his head tilting as you nodded gently towards the stone, unable to lift your dizzying head. 

“Useless skill” He spat down before sinking a heavy, steel-soled boot flush with your right hand. Blood rushed to your ears as the little oxygen in your lungs escaped as a deafening roar, drowning out the sound of your breaking bones. The ring of bruises gifted to you by Alec on your other wrist clutched your shattered hand into your chest.

“You may finish her off Eris, your reward for your observant nature, I must see to the search” He smirked at his son who fought to keep his mouth from hanging open and flame from fleeing his fists. Beron sank into the fire, leaving his heir and his prisoner. Eris crashed to your side, his warm hands supporting your shoulders as you cried out. 

“I’m sorry YN, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry” He whispered into your hair, your sobs drowning in his chest. A swirl of comforting flame swaddled you both as Eris pulled you both through the heat to the outskirts of the wood surrounding Forest House. 

The Forest air was as refreshing as any of the elements as you landed gently in the clearing, Eris’s arms supporting your weight as he clung you into him. 

“They’ll be here soon my love” He gave a small saddened smile into the crown of your hair, causing you to pull back to look up at him. 

“What?” You managed, the movement of even speaking amplifying the pain in your digits. Another whoosh of air filled the clearing, Lucien quick to your side accompanied by Azriel, colour draining from the Shadowsinger’s face at the overly familiar sight of your hands. 

“Go with them YN, they’ll protect you” Eris attempted another smile as you looked from him to his brother, who tried and failed to hide his worry. 

“I want- I want to stay with you Eris” “Look at what happens when you stay with me YN, nothing good ever comes from this place” “But you came from this place” You cried out, your legs trembling again, Eris’s arm slipped around your waist again, Lucien unfamiliar with this side of his brother. 

“I told you I’m only going to bring you pain” “And I-I told you green wasn’t one of your colours, we can both be wrong sometimes” You laughed lightly through your tears, fighting your instincts to look down at your hands. Eris brushed a thumb over your cheek, keeping a stray tear from falling before pressing his lips to your forehead. 

“I have to leave you YN, I have to make sure Alec learns his lesson, the same one I will teach my father one day and anyone who dares to harm you” He searched through your eyes before stepping back, allowing Lucien to wrap his arm around you to support your body, Azriel placing a small cloth over your hand to shield you from the full extent of the damage. Eris traced the rings of bruising on your uncovered wrist, further cementing his decision. Azriel’s eyes scanned, watching for signs you had all been discovered and finding the distant sounds of guards beginning to storm towards them. 

“We have to go” Azriel ordered, Eris and Lucien both nodding. 

“Eris, please, please come with us” You begged through sobs. 

“One day YN, one day I’ll show you this Court when it’s something I’m proud of, I’ll show you all of who I am, when it’s something I’m proud of” He brought the back of your hand to his lips, only to have you suddenly pull it back before launching forward towards him. His lips on yours felt like a warm hearth, like home, his soothing heat warming the world you always thought was meant to be cold. 

“I was jealous” He admitted with his signature smirk as he parted from you, his hand running down your tangled hair receiving a light laugh from you as Lucien reluctantly pulled you back. 

“We have to go, they’re close” Azriel took your weight, hesitantly taking you some distance away from Eris, leaving Lucien and Eris with some space between them. 

“I will look after your mate brother” Eris only nodded in return before stealing another glance at you and sinking into flame. 

--------------------------------------------------

Whatcha think? Hehehehe

[scriptseekstories]

Queen Bee’s Hive

Chapter 2- Bee in a Wasp Nest

A/N: Okay, so things will pick up next chapter, just have to set up relationships and personality for Bee!Reader and other characters. And more fort as to what your mother’s research actually does and what she did.

Kinda made yall like Mirabel from Encanto and Laios from Delicious in Dungeon ngl

~Years Later~

Bees were your friend. They work with each other and protect their home. When you had another rough day of school and a torment from Damien, you could always count on the hive planted on your window to keep you company. They had always been your friend.

Sure you had human friends at school who are weird as you, but they just don’t know you like bees. They comforted you at low times, watched over you when you slept, and gave you so. Much. Honey.

The days were somewhat better after years since you were first taken in by the Waynes, but you wouldn’t never say your life got better. You were still pushed aside but your so called siblings, ignored by your father unless you were in trouble, and tormented by your demon brother Damien.

The harsh words, the aggressive shoves, the brutal chases away from his dog Titus, you didn’t know if being mugged was better than living with him. You even considered the other’s snarky comments about you whenever you bumped into them were more bearable.

“Don’t they have anything else better to do than bother us?” You once heard Tim scoffed when you wanted a seat from the kitchen while they had dinner, Stephanie humming in agreement as Dick laughed it off while others didn’t even answer him. Yeah… they all had dinner together while you were in your room eating alone.

Buzzzzz

My mistake, you never ate alone.

“Hey, my beauties,” You slid your window up carefully to avoid crushing any bees that were too slow. You clutched the flower pot in your hands as you stared at at their strong hive, seeing that honey is almost ready.

“I got you some flowers,” You spoke as if the bees understood you, but maybe they do understand you. They never stung you, they always perched on your nose or hand, and they always seem to make your day a little brighter.

“Today we have Lotus flowers on the menu,” You sighed while resting your cheek on your hand, watching the bees snuggle into the petals and collect the pollen. You adored your grown hive, tending to your little creatures for years as you seen generations after generations of bees live past.

Each Queen bee you’ve seen are as beautiful as the last, and you adored how hard she keeps her drones and workers happy. ‘Wish I was your worker bee,’ You hummed deeply before checking your phone to see that it was only 3.

You had time, so you quickly shut the window, apologizing to the bees who were startled before grabbing your travel bag and wallet, stumbling out of your room and racing down the long stairs, where your favorite butler was cleaning the couches.

“I’ll be back Alfred!” You called out to the butler as you attempted to fight your coat into staying on you. Alfred smiled before wincing when you accidentally slid on the carpet and crashed into the umbrella stand.

You had always been a klutz, crashing into objects, tripping over air, even one time accidentally taking out half Gotham’s power. (GCPD and Batman assumed it was an attack by a villain, and Alfred had the love for you to not narc)

“I’m okay!” You called out while stumbling to stand up and attempting to fix the umbrella stand, finally having your coat on before shutting the door behind you. Alfred merely shook his head and smiled softly while truly fixing up the stand as you left all the hats and umbrellas on the floor.

“May Master (Name) always have that bright smile,” He mumbled, before going back to cleaning the couches, just as he quietly check on the carefully written list full of your birthday wishes he had in his pocket, smiling.

You inhaled a deep breath of the Gotham air, which may sound disgusting but since you lived in the rich part of the city, the air was cleaner than most. That thought made you sad for reasons involving people and insects, not much are capable of fixing the air in order to thrive in.

Which is why you must do what you need to do.

Looking around, you concluded none of the family were outside, so you took that chance and crouch around the bushes in the front, and pulled out your skates. Why would you hide them outside instead of your room? Simple, there’s just not enough space in your room.

You replaced your bed frame with a hammock so you could fit your desk for school, you had a small closet boxed with childhood accomplishments and awards, and walls completely covered in posters and research papers.

Yet it didn’t bother you one bit, for it was your safe space, your haven in a house that wasn’t your home. You shoved your foot into your skates, wobbly standing up and securing your ground before rolling down the driveway.

You pushed yourself down into the big city of Gotham, avoiding walking pedestrians and taking turns left and right. Each person you passed by, you always greeted with a bright smile and waved at them, to which they couldn’t help but smile back.

In a place like Gotham, it’s rare to have genuine smiles and kindness that you apparently had. You decided it was best to still show a smile to all even though your life wasn’t that great either.

Why let the darkness and grim life consume you when you could still bring a light to others? That’s what your mother taught you. Sure, it was hard to keep on showing that sweet smile of yours day after day being neglected and tormented by the Waynes, yet you had to.

For your mother.

Each street you rolled into, the less citizens were present. That was due to the fact you were skating right into the heavy crime side of Gotham City. Yet you didn’t stop, in fact, your smile grew as you now saw the figures of the neighbors who all were familiar on the news.

“Good evening, child,” “Though you bit the dust already, kid!” “Avoid that pothole, (Name),” The various voices you heard as you skated pass them, where you stumbled upon the banged on concrete and avoided the destroyed roads that even the toughest tires would get deflated.

“Hi, Dr. Crane!” “Still kicking, Mr. Dent!” “Sharp as always, Miss Kyle!” Each calls towards a villain may have civilians run for the hills, however you on the other hand was either not afraid of these top baddies, or stupid to know your life could be in danger.

It might’ve been the latter, as your anxious personality prevented you from reacting like a normal person. So instead when you first stumbled upon the villain side of Gotham, you didn’t run away. Instead, you used all the fake confidence you had and strutted inside, greeting each criminal, thug, villain, or henchman with a smile.

Needless to say, some were baffled, others were amused, they wanted to see if you would still smile after witnessing them take your teeth out. But alas, there was one particular criminal that had them all to back off, dare they try to harm you they would have to answer to-

Ding

You pushed the door to a shady rundown flower shop, the tiny bell ringing to indicate your presence. Digging into your bag, you pulled out a wad of cash Alfred provided you ever since middle school since you needed permission from jobs to work, and you didn’t dare ask Bruce, so Alfred provided.

“My sweet little Bumblebee~” You looked up with a smile at the sight of the woman who provided you with flowers. Her rose red hair always stood out amongst the plants and flowers, her pale skin kissed with hues of green, and her dark green outfit flowed and tangled with the vines lowering her down from the shadows of the flower shop.

“Hi Miss Ivy!” You held out the bills for her as she lowered herself down and gracefully grabbed them. She placed her feet on the floorboards and leaned against the counter, counting the money with a grin.

“Glad to hear that my flowers are being praised by your little creatures,” She sighed, sensing all the plants you bought being tended to by the bees and other insects who craved the sweet aroma of her plants.

“Miss Ivy, you think you could pre-stock some marigolds for me around a week in advance? I think I actually might have gotten a breakthrough! Just on time for my birthday!” You excited rambled off, jumping in one place like a child as Ivy handed you a bag of seeds just as you paid for.

“Really now?” She grinned, “Well, here I give you a special treat for an early birthday gift~” Using her vines, it reached deep into the hall behind the counter that was suspiciously covered in shadows before it emerged with a box.

“Thank you, Miss Ivy,” It was a nice steal box, knowing Ivy would never use wood for anything. It had carved bees on it and honeycomb patterns. You were about to open it when Ivy placed her green hands over yours, giving you a wink. Right, open it on your birthday.

“Like I said, anything for my little Bumblebee,” She cooed while booping your nose, “It’s only fair to assist the bee’s savior, which also extends you being the flower’s savior too~” Her vines curled at her words, sliding up to you in an attempt to pet you, to which you backed away quickly.

“Ha ha ha…” You let out a nervous laugh, voice cracking midway which made you wanna internally die when you heard Ivy cackle as you walked out of the door, skating down and almost hitting Bane.

Being so deep into the crime filled side of Gotham, Ivy believed you to be stupid and had a death wish when you first came into her cover store. She decided to spare your life when all she saw in you was a clumsy and pathetic ridden teenager who just wanted to actually buy flowers from her.

You amuse her so much. The moment you ate shit in front of her little shop had her hooked immediately, and she fell in love with you the moment you rambled on about the relationship between bees and flowers.

You skated along the roughed up sidewalk, waving goodbye to the residents of this crime filled area. Never actually saw crime here, as you guess Batman had them on a leash.

‘Batman… why couldn’t you have saved her,’ You held to resentment towards the Dark Knight, yet you weren’t a fan of him either. He was just… someone who couldn’t save your mother.

You finally made it to your location, just as the sun shined perfectly down into the building you worked so hard inside.

An abandoned warehouse just right at the edge of Crime Alley. The warehouse that your mother worked in with her team before it was attacked by a crime boss. You moved all her papers and results inside to avoid questions from Alfred or the others.

You grunted while pushing the collapsed door to crawl under, before grasping a power generator and jerked it around. With a simple puff of smoke, the whole place lit up with dim lighting and additional fairy lights you added for personal touch.

“Right, time to get started,” The closer you walked through the warehouse, the louder a buzzing can be heard. Sunlight peering through a skylight, in the middle of the building lay a garden, with flowers planted by Poison Ivy herself and a garden gate built in by Scarecrow.

Inside the garden? Your mother’s bees. The ones that she nurtured for her researched, the genetically modified creatures that made it through everything. You smiled with pride at the fact you kept them alive for this long, generations of bees lived in your care.

Digging through your bag, you pulled out your laptop and an empty jar, where you set them down on a lab table. On the table sat an old tv with a VHS player. Grabbing a tape from the top, you inserted it in and opened your laptop as the video began to play.

“Project: Honey. This research study may very will be the next step in animal kingdom history. We are here to investigate the potential for genetic modification to enhance the physical capabilities of the honeybees, rendering them more resilient to climate challenges and better suited for urban environments to grow our managed earth,” the static voice of your mother rung out in the warehouse, causing the bees to buzz in an almost harmonious way.

“For years, we have concluded that our genetically modified bees are able to gain more muscle mass that not only increase their flight, but their defenses, speed, and strength. Our results have tested our bees to collect 35% more nectar than the average bee, and provide more pollen over a whole continent!” The excitement in her voice made you smile. You really do miss her.

You turned on bunsen burners, tubes filled with essences of the hive and honey made from the bees, listening to each VHS tapes that your mother recorded. Just like what you’ve been doing since you turned 10, you realized you had to do more than tend to the genetic bees.

You had to continue her work.

“However, the side effects to potentially playing god among the bees are a serious risk to take for the better of world. We just need to-,” Yet a harsh SSSSHHHHH sound popped up as the final tape wasn’t fully finished, and it cut off while only playing static.

You turned it off after hours of work, stretching your limps with a satisfied feeling. You rested your arms on the table and turned a picture frame that held a photo of you on your fifth birthday, with your mother in her lab coat holding you in her arms, both of you happy.

“Just one more week, and I’ll finally complete your dream Mama,” You smiled softly at the photo, gently kissing your fingertips and placed them over her face. Everything you’re doing, all the hard work, it was all for her.

She may be gone, but you’re still here. You’ll complete Project: Honey and help humanity your own way. You’ll be a hero, just like what your mother would’ve wanted, be more of a hero to the world like Batman is to Gotham.

It was currently 10, and you had to hurry home before Alfred came up stairs to check on you. You decided to take a cab home and after a solid 20 minutes, you made it home than you usually do when on skates.

You slid your skates under the bush, made sure your jar of honey made by the genetic bees were sealed in your bag, and opened the door. You saw Alfred serving your plate, yet you knew it wasn’t going to be set on the table with the others.

You walked closer to the dining area, seeing that all of the family were together, eating and talking amongst themselves while smiles on their faces.

“Hey… don’t mind me…” You awkwardly shuffled to the side, slowly reaching for a honeydew, then your plate Alfred gave with a sad smile, before mumbling a “sorry” and running back your room, cringing at the interaction. It was as if they forgot you lived here and are uncomfortable with the thought of seeing you.

Just as well, you were just as uncomfortable making small talk to them as they are even looking at you. You didn’t care, right? Yet you still felt your heart ache with hurt. They never seem happy to have you talking to them.

You opened your door, setting the box Ivy gave you on your desk and the jar of honey down as well. You sliced the honeydew into slices and took one to the window, sliding it open to see the bees perching on the sill, almost like they were waiting for you.

“Hello my loyal royal subjects!” You joked with a proud look on your face, though the way the bees didn’t buzz at you, they weren’t impress with your humor. You gave an awkward laugh before placing a slice of honeydew on the windowsill, where the bees practically burrowed into the fresh sweet fruit.

You smiled with joy. Today wasn’t that bad, yet it still wasn’t enough to have you reassured yourself that you belonged here.

The next day you needed another ripe honeydew that Alfred bought you. You peaked from the stairs and nodded when no one was present in the kitchen. Taking long strides from the stairs to the kitchen so you could get back upstairs faster, you grasped onto the fruit when a tsk was heard.

“You don’t belong here, you know that, right?” Dropping the honeydew due to the familiar voice, you dreaded turning around to see Damien, arms crossed and leaning back against the kitchen island. It seemed he was eager to mock me and waited for me to come down like a weird predator.

“Yeah… don’t need to mention it every single day…” You nervously nodded, crouching down to grab the dropped fruit, hoping it would still be fresh enough for your beloved bees.

“I should, because it doesn’t seem that you got it through your inferior mind,” He scoffed, grabbing the honeydew before you could retreat, “You’re not special. You’re nothing but mundane and simple, not worthy to be on the same stone as us,” That damn smug look on his face made you wanna shove that honeydew up his-

“Right, and you supposedly are with your cool sword skills and emo energy,” You muttered, snickering to yourself as if you said something cool. Which you did, of course! However Damien didn’t find it funny as he scowled you suddenly felt pain on your stomach. You hissed in pain when he threw the honeydew at you.

“Watch your mouth, inferior! I am the perfect offspring of the Al Ghul and a Wayne! You don’t belong in the Wayne title!” He snapped, hands twitching as if he was ready to call Titus on you. Fear shot up your spine, making him smirk at the look in your eyes. But what he said, about being a Wayne, anger took over your fear of his damn dog.

“Well, good news, brat! I don’t want a title that makes me as egotistical and stuck up as you guys!” Your voice might’ve been shaky, but this was the most confrontational you’ve ever been towards anyone, it caught Damien off guard with how offended and angry you actually sounded.

“I’m not a Wayne! I’m a Raine, and I don’t need a brat like you destroying what I have left!” Grabbing the now bruised honeydew, you pushed Damien hard. It may not have actually made him fall down, but he didn’t fully expect you to physically touch him, so he stumbled back a little.

He looked at you like you had the audacity to put your hands as valuable as him. His eyes darkened as he didn’t bother to call for Titus, he let out a shout before lunging at you.

You both fell, you pushing his face away with one hand as you held onto the honeydew so Damien wouldn’t use it to slam it against your stomach again. Alfred heard the stumbling of chairs being pushed and shouts in the kitchen, causing him to race in just in time to see Damien scratched your eyes.

“Master Damien!!” He was appalled at the sight, quickly pulling you out of his reach. In a flash, Dick, who was right behind Alfred, held onto Damien and pulled him away as he cursed at you and struggled like an angry cat. A mangy, ugly looking cat.

Dick managed to calm Damien down, but then gave a disappointed sigh before looking at you, giving you a look as if you were the one causing problems and he was tired with you. As if he even had the time to know you and get tired with you.

“You shouldn’t have talk to Damien like that, he doesn’t know better, (M/N)!” He scolded you with a tsk, where you didn’t even bother to mention that he completely butchered your name, “You have be apologize,” You stared at Dick in utter disbelief.

You? Apologize to Damien?! You let out a scoff as you stumbled to stand up, seeing the now ruined honeydew crushed by Jason who gave you an unimpressed look, crossing his arms which added more humiliation.

“L-Like hell would ever apologize to a stuck up baby! He started it!” You stammered, voice cracking in a way that didn’t help your situation as you saw a grin on Steph’s face, about to mock you. Cass merely gave you a look like silently saying that you were to blame.

“Stuck up baby? Look in the mirror,” Tim remarked, nudging Duke, who looked uncomfortable and was about to speak up, but deep footsteps made everyone freeze. Bruce stared at Damien, who was being held back by Dick, and then you, who quickly avoided eye contact and clutched onto Alfred’s hand tighter.

It might have been foolish, stupid even, to think that Bruce would come to your aid, to comfort you and scold Damien for attacking you. But you knew the truth. You never mattered to him.

“Go to your room,” He demanded with his sharp eyes staring at you. “Now,” You felt awful, sick. Every time you get in a tussle with one of them, Bruce will always come in defense to them. Every time you get blamed, you would be sent to your room alone. And every time you see his eyes, they’re always filled with nothing but annoyance and disappointment.

As if you were the one causing a nuisance in their perfect family, as if you were the intruder insect that invaded their hive, as if you were nothing but an obligation. Slipping your fingers out of Alfred’s hands, you tried not to cry.

“Fine,” You whispered, legs pulling my body up the stairs, not daring to look back to see Damien’s stupid smug smirk and the disappointing head shakes from Dick or the snickering from the others.

Your room felt smaller, more closed off than the other rooms. Why did you choose it again? Right, it was because you weren’t wanted by the family, hence you didn’t deserve being in the family hall.

You heart your heart twist with hurt and anger, as if you could open your mouth and vomit all the hate and rage building up inside you. Sliding up your window, you watched the sunset from over the garden, where the bees began to settle down and perch over your hand.

Alfred will be coming up to give you your dinner and stay with you. But even with the company of Alfred, he wasn’t strong enough to get through the family, he wasn’t enough to bring the love you craved for years. Despite it all, he was still a bee that works for Bruce.

You concluded a long time ago that this wasn’t a beehive, and you weren’t an invasive insect. No…

This was a wasp’s nest, and you were the bee they taken for consumption.

Buzzzzz

At least your hive will free you one day.

A/N: Yep, you in fact do have villain friends. Yet they don’t know your current situation since you referred to yourself as Raine, never Wayne.

Hopefully they would help you when things get low. They may be evil, but they’re not monsters (just ignore the comic accurate villains lol. And joker)

Taglist: @jellystar-star @moom0goddess @pix-stuff @lettucel0ver @lithiumval @bad4amficideas @degenerates-posts @deathbynarcisstick

[lovableapocalypse]

birds of a feather

benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

wc- 900ish

warnings- none, i think!

a/n- season three fueled this lolol. i love benedict he's the best bridgerton and i stand by that. anywayyy here's a cute short fic. i hope you guys like. love u all. send any request you want! i need to start writing again. (also this is the first fic ive written/published in like 7 months so sorry if im rusty lolol.) also title inspired by billie's new song. ok bye love u.

Benedict was uncomfortable. He was trying his best to avoid the bustling mamas and crowded dance floor, but seemed to be swept in the middle of it all. He sought comfort in the refreshments table but even there his luck was thin. 

Tired of making horribly awkward eye contact with debutantes and failing to find any more of his siblings to hide behind, he shifted quickly out of the ball and into the quiet anteroom. Glancing over his shoulder and turning a corner, he bumped into a figure with an “Oomph.”

He recovered and caught the mysterious figure before they fell. 

“My apologies.” He spoke, helping who he now recognized to be a lady stand upright. 

You turned to face him more fully, caught off guard. “That’s alright.” You were partly breathless from the unexpected run in. 

It was just the two of you in the secluded room. “Hiding as well, I presume?” You spoke. 

Benedict laughed, “Yes.” 

You smiled in return. “It’s refreshing to know someone shares a similar distaste for these things at times.”

“Very much so.” He sighed and raised his brows, his hands finding his hips. 

You went to speak again, but heard heavy footsteps approaching from the crowded party. You looked to Benedict who seemed to read your mind, quickly grabbing your arm and shoving you two around the corner, flush against the wall. His hand stayed attached to your arm as you panted and tried your best to stay unnoticed. 

The footsteps faded and you glanced sideways at the Bridgerton as they did. Holding in your amusement was difficult and when you were sure it was safe to, you let out a laugh. Benedict, despite becoming somewhat flustered in your hasty escape, joined in your laughter. 

You sighed and rolled your head to glance at the man again. His smile was contagious and you were happy to have a moment alone with him. Even if it was improper in society’s eyes. 

Sighing you spoke, “I should probably return soon. Before my absence becomes anymore obvious.” 

“Is your attendance of great importance?” Benedict questioned. 

“Partly.” 

“I see.”

You smirked as he took in your appearance. “If you find your way back, I’d be happy to keep you company. Maybe everyone will keep their distance if we seem engaged thoroughly with one another.”

You watched his face as he contemplated your offer. He nodded slightly, agreeing. 

Only then did you realize he was still holding onto your arm. He glanced down as well, gently releasing you from his grasp. You peeled yourself off the wall and made your way back to the ball, but not before looking back once more and meeting his eyes. 

You felt your face flush as you reentered the extravagant event. It was nice to have shared a moment away from everyone. You greeted more people and quickly became engaged in dull conversation with guests, thrown right back into the chaos of the function. 

Benedict was still loitering in your previous hiding spot. He needed a moment. He was surprised to have found someone else avoiding the party as well. Especially a beautiful woman like yourself. 

Taking a deep breath and putting on a brave face, he made his return to the ball. His eyes cast around the room searching for you. He was happy to take you up on your offer and stick by your side for the rest of the night. He located you near the balcony and made his way. 

You were nodding your head along in distracted agreement when he interrupted. 

“I’m sorry to intrude,” he started, “but I’m afraid I owe the miss a dance.”

You smiled as you took Benedict’s outstretched hand, sending a half-hearted apology to the interrupted guest. He led you to the dance floor as a new song poured out of the ensemble’s strings. 

You followed his lead in a content silence, merely enjoying each other’s presence. He smiled down at you, leaning close in a whisper. “Where have you been all night? We could have avoided hiding all together if I had found you sooner.”

“I’m afraid more people wanted to converse with me than necessary. A bit annoying, truly.”

“Understandable. I was avoiding conversation myself when I snuck off.”

You smiled and he pulled you closer, enjoying the movement of your bodies. The song came to an end and you were disappointed in having to face the crowd again. Benedict held his arm out for you and you graciously accepted. 

“There you are!” 

You turned together and came face to face with Violet Bridgerton. 

“I was wondering where you two ran off to. Almost sent Anthony to find you until I spotted you on the dance floor.” 

“Ah, yes Mother.” Benedict answered. “We just needed a moment.”

She nodded in understanding before stepping closer, “Do I need to remind you this ball was thrown in your honor? I understand you two are newlywed, but please refrain from ditching your own party.”

You blushed and hid your face in Benedict’s shoulder.

“Yes, Mother.” He laughed. 

“Thank you.” She smiled and sent you her undeniable look of understanding. 

“We were not as sly as I hoped.” You mumbled. 

“Next time warn me before you run off so we can go together.” He added.  

Laughing, you faced him and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Of course, husband.” 

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Daryl Dixon SFW alphabet."

Summary: Daryl Dixon's version of the SFW alphabet with you as a couple.

@artsynana: hii dear, i was thinking, have you ever though about writing some sfw headcanons with daryl? i would love to see something like that written by you🥰🥰

Hey love. Sorry it took me a while to do this, my brain has been out of ideas :( This isn't the best, but I hope you like it! Thanks.

A/N: I sometimes include some excerpts from my stories to give you an idea (don't hate me, I have to promote them haha)

A = Affection (How affectionate is he? How does he show affection?)

In public, Daryl is painfully uncomfortable with displays of affection considering he never knew what it’s like, so he’d just stand by your side, always close, always making sure you’re in his line of sight if he can’t get close. He just… has to know where you are (not possessively, but the idea of ​​losing you is inconceivable). Daryl is a protector, now imagine him with the person he’d want to spend his life with. Maybe cupping your cheek as a quick caress or a kiss on your forehead before either of you has to go on a search for supplements.

Privately Daryl became more accustomed to them until he needed to do it himself.

B = Best friend (What would he be like as a best friend?)

Whether you're the talkative one or the quiet one, or both, the beginning of a friendship would be confusing for Daryl. Having someone Daryl could confide in, someone he could open up to, considering that his whole life he's had to keep quiet or bottle up his own feelings, both good and bad, would be a huge step for him. But like I said, Daryl is a protector, to the point where he'd beat the shit out of anyone who dared to disrespect you (a warning first, of course. His temper is short, sorry, but he's learned to handle it), but disrespecting you in the sense that he feels you're being insulted, threatened, or way before he feels you're in danger.

C = Cuddles (Does he like to cuddle?) (The little spoon)

Glenn helps Carol as Daryl places his arms under your legs and shoulders, lifting you up so he can carry you into the bedroom, but then, a silly thought shines in your mind and pushes out of your lips before you can stop it.

“Did you know Daryl likes being the little spoon?”

Daryl feels the heat rise to his cheeks as everyone stops to stare at him.

“I like it, so what?” He says embarrassed, but trying to keep a straight face so no one would laugh at him.

Daryl would come to love the idea of ​​cuddling too, because for him, feeling HIS person against him, protected even in dreams is comforting because it's the only place he can protect you 100 percent, (I mean, with those strong arms, hehe) Rick or Carol may be the only ones who can tease him when they sense Daryl is somewhat grumpy for not being with you at night due to some runs, telling him not to even think about trying to cuddle up against them. Also because Daryl wasn't a deep sleeper or even didn't sleep at all, maybe that's why feeling the body of the person he loves helps him fall asleep, to feel like he's not alone anymore.

D = Domestic (Does he want to settle down? Like, make him and you a real family)

Daryl would hint (shy and awkward hehe) that it would be nice to have a house of your own, maybe in Alexandria. He did live in a house, yes, but with you, it would be his first home. It would be like giving the child living in him a chance at being loved correctly, too.

E = Ending (If he has to break up with his partner)

It's so hard for someone like Daryl to trust another person, to love another person, that when he is in a relationship, it would be for a long, long time. His whole life, he lived without thinking about the future or having expectations for anything, so if Daryl dared to love you even though he thought you deserved better, or that you could be loved better, he wouldn't break up with you on purpose.

F = Fiancé (How does he feel about commitment?) (What it means to me)

“Why did you come back for the ring?”

As the men keep digging a grave for Tina and the other bodies, Daryl stops to look at Sherry, who’s looking at an empty spot beyond all that pain. She doesn’t look back at him, and just wait for an answer.

"S’ jus’ a ring for ya but it means somethin’ important to me.”

A second later, Sherry finally looks at him.

“What is that?”

Daryl knows a promise can be broken, not by him, but by that dangerous world and how a life can end in a second, so the ring is, or will be a symbol of a truth, if he gets the opportunity to give it to you.

“It means I’ll love ma wife for the rest of ma life. S’ the only promise I can make to her.”

Daryl never thought about being anyone's something, not wanting to settle down and much less commit, it would be something he dislikes (it terrifies him actually) but with you, who showed him only the good and the beautiful that life has to offer, he would unwittingly start having those thoughts about what it would be like to do all of that only with you. The idea of ​​getting a ring for you, of having something visual that makes you his (not in a possessive way) that after having nothing, having you bearing his last name would be everything.

G = Gentle (How gentle is he?)

Daryl is tough and imposing with his physique and the menacing way his gaze alone can convey, but he quickly learned to be less rude with you and the people he loves and considers family.

H = Hugs (Does he likes hugs?)

It's not that he doesn't like it, it's just that Daryl doesn't know how to be physically loving. My poor baby is awkward as hell, so maybe at first, just to annoy him and even make him uncomfortable, you'd give him hugs even for breathing because even you can tell he's never received one. But the idea of ​​you expressing your love like that is fascinating to Daryl until he understands that it's a normal part of life, and that he doesn't have to work hard to deserve one.

If you haven't seen each other in a while, Daryl would need to keep you pressed against his body for a while, so that he physically understands that you're really there, close again.

I = I love you (Like Gravity)

“God dammit, woman, if I didn't love ya so much they'd be cookin' in a stew.” He freezes for a second, listening clearly to his heartbeat as he walks away, but Daryl has to clear his throat so his voice wouldn’t break off mid–sentence. “Let's go over there and see if we can get some squirrels instead.”

The L word. Daryl knows well that you love him and that he loves you, but saying it out loud, it would be the thing that would forever define your relationship at the beginning, perhaps when he still fears that the foundations of your love aren't fully built, when he still senses that someone better will come along. But the moment Daryl understands that, despite his imperfections, you won't walk away by your own choice, he'll feel safe saying it because he knows well you'll say it back. For him, love is in the small things, but every once in a while, he says it.

J = Jealousy (How jealous can he get? (You are)  

Your skin feels cold again when Daryl's hand leaves your body, even if your skin feels boiling hot when the attention falls on you like the midday sun in that stifling season. As if someone had put their hand on your throat until it was blocked from air, your uncomfortable laughter comes out muffled, but you don’t answer before changing topics. But it's sad that after a short while, Daryl stands up to go to his own cell, his thoughts running wild with the jealousy he feels about that guy, thinking that there was someone who made you feel something when, for him, you were his first everything.

Insecure more than jealous, but jealous too (?). At the beginning of the relationship, Daryl is jealous of everyone because he’s convinced that everyone is better for you than him, that anyone could offer you more and something better, that at any moment he's going to ruin what he has with you, to the point of indirectly sabotaging the relationship without realizing it. Daryl needs time to understand that what you feel for him isn't temporary and isn't in danger of disappearing, until he no longer feels threatened by anyone.

But if you two are together and someone is trying to flirt by making you uncomfortable and even trying to cross the line of your security, it's like letting the lion out of its cage. Daryl would literally eat the poor bastard alive. (In fiction, I love those men hahaha)

K = Kisses (What are his kisses like?)

It depends, if they're those in the middle of the game, they'd be pretty deep. The idea is consuming in his mind, the idea of ​​knowing that after those comes the best *wink* Daryl loves the idea of ​​feeling his person's lips on his, because the nerves they still produce in him are exciting, how something as simple as greeting each other like that at any time of the day is simple but powerful for him. It's not something he takes for granted, especially at the moment when someone has to go to a run if you both can't go together.

L = Little ones (Babies?) (Make you happy)

“It means positive.” You answered softly, your heart beating faster.

Daryl’s mind ran as fast as possible, registering your words, processing who he was and who he will be: a future father?

“Are we…” Daryl finally said, but he had to clear his throat first. “Happy ‘bout it?”

He looked confused, not angry.

“I don’t know. Are we?”

Then, he did the last thing you thought he would do: Daryl started smiling, just a little bit.

“Yeah, I mean, I'm fuckin’ scared, but…” He paused, looking at you with a worried expression, and his voice became even lower. “But if ya don’ want to have her I would get that, ‘cause for yer face ya ain’t lookin’ so sure ‘bout it.”

Daryl was always terrified of the idea of ​​becoming his father, or even just a shadow of that man and harming a baby, which is why he never wanted children. He knew his temper was short and explosive to the point of losing control, and that was a big NO. But Daryl, without realizing it, cared for Judith since she was a baby until a thought settled in his mind: the idea that he couldn't be that bad, not when he would give his life for someone who wasn't his blood daughter. And if Daryl would do it for her, what wouldn't he do for someone who was?

Whether it was an accident or something you two were looking for, Daryl would be an amazing dad, showing his baby nothing but love and happiness.

M = Mornings (How are the mornings with him?)

Daryl sleeps more soundly since you've been with him, but he's not someone who wants to spend all day in bed every day. The day starts early for him, although the idea of ​​waking up next to someone after sleeping alone his whole life does make him want to stay there a little longer.

N = Nights (How are nights with him?) (The way to heal a heart)

From his side, Daryl sleeps with his back to you. However, lying on your left side and as you drift off into a light sleep, you feel Daryl rolling over in bed, blindly searching for the warmth of your body, pressing himself against you, because that reminded him that he is still alive.

With nightmares or insomnia after a lifetime of abuse, Daryl didn't relish the idea of ​​going to sleep, but sleeping together solved the problem. Even unconsciously at first, his body blindly sought yours when you first started sleeping together, until it became a necessity for Daryl to physically feel you, perhaps a hand on your waist or your stomach or your back, or until his body was pressed against yours.

O = Open (When would he start revealing things about himself?)

Little by little, because the traumatic memories felt like reliving them once Daryl said them out loud. The idea that saying them and look weak and vulnerable was inconceivable to him, but there was something about your tone of voice, without a hint of pity for him and only understanding when he crossed his own line and told you the first story one night.

P = Patience (How easily angered he gets?) (A little hope)

But too terrified to feel too much when Daryl was used to feeling little, or nothing at all, he turned away from you for a very long time, always taking the opposite path, coming when you were leaving, never coinciding, confusing when his feelings awaken and made a mess of his life.

But being shot by Andrea was like his breaking point, leading him to isolate himself in the room until he was better, walking outside only during the nights so as not to suffocate within the four walls all day. A random night as you walk back late, you see him standing against the back wall, and fighting against the current, you try to get closer, just one more time before deciding to walk away from him forever, but Daryl was the reflection of a battered animal, always on the verge of attacking before being attacked.

And he gives you the WHOLE speech.

“…battin’ yer eyelashes at me n’ always hopin’ for the best, givin’ me hope for somethin’ I know ain’t gonna happen between us. M’ fuckin’ sick of seein’ ya.”

Again, a really short patience, or sometimes Daryl doesn't have any of that, but he learned to calm his temper, not to get carried away by his own frustration, and not to yell or want to escape quickly from situations that made him uncomfortable. The idea of ​​attacking so as not to be attacked again was burned into his mind, always feeling that he was not wanted anywhere, but the time and the family Daryl made taught him that he was loved and that he was an essential part of others' lives.

Q = Quizzes (How much would he remember about you?)

He remembers absolutely everything. Daryl has a practically perfect memory, recalling even things you considered unimportant. Like a good hunter, Daryl is able to notice even the smallest pieces, tiny things that go unnoticed by others, but not by him, and this ability is even more surprising because he started paying attention to you even before you were a thing: storing in his mind even those tiny behaviors of yours that no one else noticed. Now imagine when he and you became something.

R = Remember (What is his favorite moment in your relationship?)

Daryl doesn't take being with you for granted, so he believes every moment means something special.

S = Security (How protective is he?) (Karma Butterfly)

“A fuss?” Daryl grunts under his breath, those words souring his mouth. “A moron threatened ma wife and ya don’ want me to make a damn fuss?”

But as the sweet karma that is about to punch Spencer right in the face just as Daryl’s fist would do, Spencer walks down the street toward the car, smiling at Rick like the good boy he pretended to be. However, Daryl’s anger covers his eyes and paints the world red as he walks towards him just to punch Spencer before Glenn or Rick can try to stop him, hitting him so hard that Daryl makes him fall. Daryl falls on him too, with all the weight of his body, punching the thick skin of the wolf. His strong arms push away who tries to pull him back, his ears covering with the word threat, his fists turning red as blood leaves Spencer’s face.

“Daryl, stop!” Finally, Rick pulls him hardly, giving Spencer some time to breathe again. “You’re gonna kill him!”

“That’s the fuckin’ plan!” Daryl shouts back, trying to avoid Rick’s body as he looks straight at Spencer. “M’ gonna kill ya, coward! Nobody messes with ma wife!”  

Once again, Daryl is a protector, to the point of giving his life for the person he loves. Keeping you safe from any kind of threat is a duty to him. Feeling like you're in any kind of danger is devastating to him, which is why Daryl would dedicate his life to keeping yours safe, from anything living or not. Losing you is what terrifies him more than the thought of something happening to him.

T = Try (How much effort would he put into different things)

Love for Daryl is in the little things: like bringing something for you during a run, for example, a book, a cassette, something simple but a meaningful reminder that life in that new world is still life just because he has you.

U = Ugly (Some bad habits of his?)

That he's not bothered at all by the grease of his motorcycle when Daryl's fixing it or the blood on his clothes, that he doesn't notice it until you point it out. He'd respond that it's not that bad and that you're just being picky until you threatened to make him sleep in the yard if he didn't fix it.

(I'm not saying smoke because I do it too, sorry)

V = Vanity (How concerned is he with his looks?)

Not worried at all. Even though Daryl's physical appearance has attracted the attention of the local women in Alexandria, he's oblivious to his appearance, becoming even shy when you tease him about his long hair, which makes him look like a rock star, or the muscles in his arms exposed in his sleeveless shirt.

 W = Whole (How would he feel without you?)

After living alone his entire life, finding you gave Daryl the desire to never be without you again. The idea of ​​falling in love was almost like a bad joke to him, although in reality he was also terrified of loving too much and losing (among other things). But feeling loved by you made him feel complete, so yeah, he doesn't want to live without you anymore.

X = Xtra (A random thing about him?)

Maybe how quickly he becomes shy when you tease him? but he tries to hide it with a snort.

Y = Yuck (What are some things he doesn’t like about you?)

Nothing. Maybe just your own tendency to do things alone, which sometimes got on his nerves because of his fear of you getting hurt. Daryl knows you're independent and can take care of yourself, but since life taught you that you could handle everything on your own, you sometimes forget that it's okay to have someone else to help you.

Z = Zzz (What are some sleep habits of his?) (My everything)

“15 minutes to make the milk? I was starting to get worried actually." You raise an eyebrow, speaking softly. "Why did you take so long? The milk is in the kitchen, not in another country."

"Sorry, sweetheart." Daryl apologizes as he hands you the bottle, sitting on the edge of the bed to watch his daughter stop crying the moment she feels the bottle against her pretty pink lips. "I closed ma eyes and jus' fell asleep for a minute."

You frown, continuing to stroke Marley's back.

"In a chair? On the counter?"

At the sound of your voice, Daryl's head falls until he almost hits his chest with his own chin, waking up from his light sleep before looking back at you. It's still funny to you how easy it was for him to go without sleep all those years, but after a month with Marley, Daryl considered killing walkers an easier task.

"What? No. Standin’. Didn't know that was even possible."

Being a light sleeper, or not sleeping at all sometimes because of nightmares was Daryl's weakness, but sleeping with you developed a good sleep habit on him. He still wakes up early, but sleeps soundly since you two lived within the safety of Alexandria's walls, although since his daughter was born, Daryl truly understood what it was like to go without sleep.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Fire Drill

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 2020

Requested by Anon: Hi can you do one where the reader is pregnant and she comes to visit Hotch at work and when she’s getting ready to leave she trips on the last step and hotch and the team rush to her side and hotch force her to go to the hospital to get checked out

Notes: Okay, I know I don’t do requests, but this just seemed like such a nice break after finishing part one of The In-Betweens S3. I’m not opening requests, but thank you for sending this in because I had fun writing it. I’ve never written for Hotch before, so it was nice to branch out! I hope you like it. 

More Criminal Minds: HERE

-

He hadn’t been expecting you, otherwise he would have told you not to come. It was chaos in the bullpen, FBI and CIA scrambling about to finish wrapping up the case- a rogue agent on a kidnapping spree to get information on his family’s deaths. 

Aaron couldn’t help but pity him. The man’s wife and two daughters were killed in a car accident, but the nature of his work made him paranoid enough to convince him of foul play. And, while the CIA had been reluctant to cooperate, the working teams were able to reach a peaceful conclusion, the agent facing trial and the victims sent home to their families and lives.

You were surprised to find the BAU so busy. Of course, your husband hadn’t been allowed to disclose anything about the case, but you suspected it must have been big to require all this manpower. 

“Mrs. Hotchner!” A friendly voice called over the commotion. 

Agent Jareau’s smiling face appeared from a sea of serious scowls. 

“JJ,” you smiled, relieved to finally see someone familiar. “What’s going on, Strauss’s retirement party?” 

She laughed and made a face of ‘I wish.’

“Big case. Long story.” She took your hand to lead you through the wall of suits. “Hotch is in his office.”

“I think I see him.” You stood on your tiptoes to get a glimpse into the elevated office but there were just too many people. “Where’s the team?” 

JJ laughed and pointed to the conference room. “Hiding.” 

Sure enough, you could just spot the lanky form of Dr. Reid standing in front of the board, solving some long and complex equation. Agents Morgan and Prentiss were discussing something about the file in front of them and Dave Rossi looked like he just wanted to go home. 

While you watched them, another agent barreled by you, hardly noticing that you were even there, let alone that they’d almost knocked you over. Stumbling back, you reached for something to grab onto. 

A hand took hold of yours. 

“Careful,” Aaron, despite his cautious tone, gave you a small smile. “It’s a circus in here.”

“So I noticed, Mr. Ringleader,” you beamed, kissing his cheek. 

“Is everything okay? You didn’t tell me you were coming.” His eyes flicked down to your middle, worry growing with his words. 

You held up a to-go bag with your free hand. 

“Lunch emergency. Code red, Agent Hotchner.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, come on.” Keeping hold of your hand, he guided you through the mess to the somewhat quiet refuge of his office. He closed the door behind him, sighing with relief. 

“You have no idea how nice it is to see you.”

“I should hope so.” You gave him a mock pout. “You’ve been holed up here for two days. I missed you.”

“I know.” He leaned down, kissing you sweetly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You rustled his hair. “Hence, lunch.” You set the bag of pasta on his desk. “Mariano’s.”

Aaron smiled, leaning his head back with a happy sigh. “You’re a saint.” 

“I know.” You took the containers from the bag and placed them on his desk. “The team looks tired.” You handed him a fork.

“It’s been a long few days.” Aaron took on his serious work-voice. He gazed out over the bullpen. There was a tension you knew all too well built up in his shoulders. Like he held the weight of the world on them. 

“Seems like it.” Tearing off a piece of garlic bread, you watched him watch the world. He stood there for a while before you gently grabbed his hand. “Aaron.” You brought his hand to your lips. “Eat.”

Like snapping out of a trance, your husband returned to himself, his eyes softening and the hard set of his mouth lifting into a smile. 

Aaron moved his chair around his desk to sit beside you rather than across, his leg grazing yours. You passed him the garlic bread. 

“So,” you started, popping a piece into your mouth, “anything not super-secret-classified about your day?” 

He thought for a moment. “Reid recited three pages of Freud from memory, Garcia continues to scare me with her hacking ability and my beautiful wife brought me lunch.” His leg nudged yours again affectionately. “What about you?”

“Nothing special,” you shrugged. “I just got assigned the Brunner case.” 

Aaron coughed, nearly choking on his chicken parm. 

“The ADA’s giving it to you?”

Your face broke into a wide, excited smile. You nodded. “She said, and I quote ‘You’re the only one I trust to get that bastard behind bars.’” You beamed. 

Aaron set his food aside and pulled you into his arms. “Sweetheart, that’s amazing.” He kissed your forehead, then your lips. 

Your husband wasn’t one for PDA, so any exception always made you feel like a blushing schoolgirl. 

“I start prep on Monday,” you said as he sat back again. “Then maybe you’ll be the one waiting up for me.” You stole a bite of his meal. “Lot of late nights in my future.”

His excitement slowly morphed into concern. 

“Before you say anything, I already spoke with Dr. Brown, and she said I'll be fine as long as I still get plenty of rest.”

“And do you actually plan on getting plenty of rest?”

You raised a brow, teasing, “Are you the pot or the kettle in this scenario?”

He snorted. “Well, honey, I’m not four months pregnant.” 

“I could still kick your ass in court and you know it, Agent Hotchner,” you smirked.

“I don’t doubt it.” He picked at his food, seemingly lost in pleasant thought. 

You, content that you’d won the potential argument, glanced back out at the office. A harsh tension still hung in the air, the two agencies clearly not thrilled to share their success with the other. Familiar faces emerged from the other room, prompting your question.

“Have you told them yet?” 

“Told who what?” Aaron asked, pretending to be more focused on his food than what was on his mind. 

You rolled your eyes. “The team. About…” You pointed at your almost-showing belly. 

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “No.”

“You should.” You looked at Reid’s fidgeting hands and Prentiss’s tired frown. “They look like they could use some exciting news.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. You may not have been a profiler, but you knew your husband. 

Telling them made it real. Real meant the real world. The real world meant danger. Danger meant loss. The longer you could both live in the beautiful, safe, fantasy world, the easier it seemed. 

“Aaron-” You started, but were interrupted by an awful shrill mechanical shriek. You grimaced, putting your hands over your ears. “Don’t tell me there’s a fire drill.”

Aaron shook his head, worry settling into his expression. 

“Stay close to me.” 

You made no argument there. Regretfully abandoning your meals, Aaron kept an arm around you as you reentered the chaos. People were cramming around the staircase doors, shouting and grumbling at each other. 

“So much for ‘calm and orderly fashion’,” you muttered. 

Aaron gently tugged on your arm. “This way.” 

One of the doors had a shorter line, but only slightly. By the time you made it through the door, the stairwell was packed with people hurrying down, paying no attention to the people around them. At some point, Aaron lost hold of your hand. 

“Y/N?” He called out.

That’s when he saw you fall. 

You didn't even see who ran into you. They just rammed into you from the side, pushing their way down the stairs. Your foot caught on the wall, your arms reeling for something to grab onto, but unlike last time, you weren’t fast enough. You tumbled forward. The people in front of you kept moving, leaving a set of hard stone stairs to break your fall. 

“Y/N!” Aaron yelled. 

You hit the ground and were pretty sure someone stepped on you. Catching yourself with your left hand, you felt a sudden, painful snap. You bit back the scream of pain, but it escaped nonetheless. 

“Everybody move!” Aaron’s commanding, panicked voice took over the stairwell, joined by other voices. 

“Mrs. Hotchner, are you okay?” Dr. Reid appeared in front of you. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“It’s my wrist,” you winced, trying to move your fingers. “But I think I’m okay.”

Someone lifted you up. 

“We need to get her to the hospital,” Aaron said. His dark eyes were wide and frantic and focused on you. 

Morgan rushed by. “I’ll get the car.”

“Aaron, I’m okay,” you said again, but he ignored you. 

“Prentiss, find out what’s going on,” he ordered. “There shouldn’t be a drill.” He feared the worst. This was planned. Someone was waiting outside to gun everyone down. Someone was after you. 

“On it.” She hurried off as well. 

“I didn’t get a chance to examine it fully, but it looks like it might be broken,” Reid added. 

“Aaron-”

“You’re going to be okay.” He spoke more to himself than to you. “You’ll be okay.” 

-

You were, in fact, fine. A broken wrist, sure, but all together could have been worse. But then came his second concern. One you could clearly see on his face as he spoke to the doctor. 

“You really freaked him out,” Agent Prentiss said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.”

“I told him everything was fine,” you sighed, laying a hand over your middle. You didn’t know how, but you could just tell everything was alright. It had to be. But he needed to be sure. “Thank you, Agent Prentiss. For getting to the bottom of it all.” 

“Please, call me Emily.” She smiled. “He must have thought it was something planned and sinister.” 

Someone had put a fork in the microwave. Apparently, agents are definitely not geniuses. Except for Dr. Reid, of course. 

You laughed. “The dangers of your job, huh?”

She shrugged. 

A moment passed. 

“So are you going to tell everyone?” She blurted. 

Your mouth fell open. 

Emily raised a brow. “It isn’t hard to guess by the way he looked at you. And you haven’t taken your arms off your stomach since you got here.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms fully. “Profilers.”

She laughed and put a hand on yours. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

Aaron walked into the room with the seriousness he usually reserved for cases. But when he looked at you, he let out a sigh of relief. 

“Dr. Brown said everything is fine.”

“I told you.” 

You wouldn’t admit it, but for a second you were terrified. But seeing him happy and relieved made it all go away. 

He was at your side in seconds, kissing the top of your head. 

“You thought Brunner was after me, didn’t you?” You asked, realizing why he’d been so interested in the alarm. 

“It crossed my mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you gripped his tie and pulled his lips to yours. “He’s going to have to try harder than a spoon in the microwave.”

“That’s not funny.”

You kissed him again. “It’s a little funny.”

-

The whole team was waiting, each looking more worried than the last.

“Guys, I didn’t get shot,” you teased. You held up the cast on your arm for emphasis.

“We know.” Reid gulped, fidgeting with his sleeve. “You just seemed to fall pretty hard and-”

“We just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” JJ said.

You peered at each of them and put your good hand on your hip. 

“Alright, how many of you know?”

The pretend confusion on their faces told you all you needed. You cast an exasperated look at your husband. 

“Damn profilers.”

The group laughed. Dave gave you a hug and Morgan shook Aaron’s hand.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Hotchner.” Dr. Reid said, smiling through his usual timidness. He turned to Hotch. “I’m really happy for both of you.”

“Thank you, Reid,” Aaron said. The two embraced, the sight warming your heart. 

You wrapped your arms around your husband. Aaron kissed your temple. 

And you would be okay. 

[navydoves]

Mine soon enough

✎ᝰ cw. professor zayne, tense atmosphere, teacher/student, suggestive, somewhat yearning, very conversational writing, TENSE!

✎ᝰ a/n. i’m inconsistent in everything i post lol. this is written in a very specific way, hopefully it comes across in the tone i want it to.

࣪𖤐

“am i really allowed to be here after office hours like this?”

zayne glances back at you from where he was standing by the tea kettle on his desk and smiles just slightly. “why not? this is my office after all.”

“yeah, but,” you hesitate, “most other professors are really strict on their schedules. i didn’t expect you to be so um… lenient about this.”

a small, almost imperceptible chuckle escapes zayne. “you do know i’m only this lenient on you, right? god the headache i’d have if i had any other pesky students showing up and bothering me after hours.”

you glance to the side awkwardly and nod. “yeah… i know… it’s just a little strange… being your ‘favorite’ and all…”

“does it make you feel uncomfortable?” zayne’s voice cuts in quickly. he was clicking off the tea kettle now and preparing the two mugs with their respective tea bags.

“n-no… no it doesn’t,” you respond just as fast, “it’s just… not familiar to me. don’t take it personally professor, i only—“

“zayne,” he corrects while pouring the boiling water into the mugs. “zayne is better. you should get over all your formal habits when you’re alone with me. we’re friends, right?”

there’s a beat between you two before you nod.

“yes, friends.”

“well then as long as you’re not uncomfortable and we’re in equal footing here, there should be no problem. you would tell me if there was a problem right?”

another beat.

“yes… i would.”

zayne smiles slightly again. he places the kettle back down and starts properly dipping the teabags into the mugs before throwing them into the small can on the side.

“good. here, come get your tea.”

you move from where you were sat on the leather couch to zayne’s desk. the room was quiet apart from your gentle footsteps and zayne’s spoon swirling. you take your mug, identical to his, and scoop up a few spoonfuls of sugar. your gaze remains on the task below you rather than the man in front of you. he notices this.

“y’know i prefer tea over coffee too. i’ve always hated the bitter taste of coffee beans… even with all the sugar and cream added to it,” zayne hums.

you glance up at him and almost cringe at his attempt at conversation. “yeah, same. i’m not a coffee person…”

zayne looks you up and down with brows furrowed from scrutiny. he picks up his mug and takes a sip, eyes darting to the side in slight annoyance.

“lighten up a bit,” he murmurs. “i invited you to spend time with you. you know how much i enjoy your presence. i'd rather you not feel… weirded out.”

you finally stop stirring and meet zayne’s eyes for the first time. “i’m not… i don’t feel weirded out…”

“you do though,” he rebuttals, “you’re all tense and avoidant. am i doing something? we can take our leave, truly. just tell me.”

a small exhale escapes you after a moment of thought. you shake your head. “no, i’m… like i said im just not used to this. this type of treatment. the… personal hangouts we have in your office. the gifts. the grades. i think… i think we both know things are…”

zayne puts his mug down and mimics your earlier exhale. he moves around the desk and your eyes follow him. right behind you is where he stands, taller and towering, with his chin hovered just over your shoulder.

“i don’t want that to be a problem,” he whispers by your ear. “the hangouts, gifts, grades. i don’t want those to be a problem. i want to give you more, y’know? more… more of everything. are we overstepping lines? sure… but—“

“you are over stepping lines,” you murmur with a slightly shaky voice. the lingering warmth of him behind you was almost trapping you against the desk. “i… i haven’t done anything, you’ve done… you’ve made all the…”

“have you… not liked the attention?” zayne asks almost vulnerably.

“i never said that…”

“then is there an issue? you’re right, i’m overstepping lines, not you. if we got into some heat, i’d take the responsibility. does that mean something to you?” in the moments you hesitate to answer, zayne’s arm wraps around your waist and gently pulls you closer to an embrace. “i want it to mean something to you. what do i have to do?” he continues.

you wet your lips and search the desk below you for answers your mouth couldn’t form. you weren’t sure how long had passed before zayne backed off, but once he did, you quickly turn around to face him. he steps away with his arms up innocently, a look of shame on him.

“i’m sorry, im making you uncomfortable. im not sure what im doing.”

with your eyes avoiding each other, a long silence ensues between the both of you—charged with emotion and uncertainty.

“your tea is going to get cold, professor.”

zayne knits his brows together and trails his gaze slowly across the room, and then on you, and then on the tea.

“right.”

he steps back to his side of the desk and takes his still warm tea and avoids your presence while drinking. whether he wanted you here anymore or not, it was unclear. he notices your rogue, discarded mug of tea on the desk. barely touched and getting colder by the second. maybe it looked like regret.

your back was turned to him and facing the rest of the room, but you were still so close to the desk. unmoving. what was going through your mind, that was also unclear.

slowly, you put down your arms that were crossed in a defensive position, and glance down at the desk. zayne was no longer sipping his tea. you could only assume he was standing as silently and awkwardly as you were.

without much thought, you step back and sit on the desk, back still to zayne.

“my face is turned away, if it makes you feel any less guilty,” you whisper.

zayne’s eyes widen slightly. he looks over your body that was perched up on his desk. what a sight. “don’t say that like i’m some sort of… some sort of…”

“i’m not… insinuating anything, professor… or i guess ‘zayne’. i’m simply saying that, in the situation we’re in right now, guilt is normal to feel. but that… curiosity is too. so… i’m looking away.”

more tense silence.

“are you curious too?” zayne asks with a voice that’s barely there.

you don’t answer for a few moments.

“i’m a woman, zayne,” you murmur. “i can make my own decisions. we’re not too far off in age, yknow. we think similarly… i hope.”

amidst the quiet of the room, zayne walks closer to the desk. he stares right into your back and all of the crumpled fabric lines from your shirt.

“you’re a woman,” zayne whispers while reaching out and ghostly tracing a simple line over your shoulder blade. “and i’m a man. it works like that, doesn’t it? this is natural… isn’t it?”

you swallow. the very faint sensation of zayne’s fingertip makes you tense.

“y-yeah…”

zayne’s finger goes down to your mid back. here he feels you arch away instinctively, but still not rejecting him. he grows bolder with his touch, insisting a bit more with his finger tip until he’s tracing letters.

letters Z through E of his name. ZAYNE was on you.

“my attraction to you is natural, isn’t it?” he whispers. he reaches for the top hem of your shirt and then parts your hair from your neck, exposing your nape. with the pad of his thumb, he rubs there gently. the sensations on your skin were hair-raising.

“i… it is.”

“then does it come naturally to you too?”

you shudder softly as you feel more of zayne’s fingers rake over your skin. he abandons your neck, moving downward again until he was touching the small of your back.

“please, answer me.”

there’s more silence from you, but you break it with a whisper. “my face gives all the answers, but i already told you i’m not letting you look at me.”

“then how will i know how you feel about me too?”

no answer.

zayne looks down at where his hand is on your back and moves it lower to the bottom hem of your shirt. gently, he lifts it—so slow that a million thoughts came and passed in those long seconds.

at the top of your back, he scrunches up your shirt and admires the lines and curves of your skin.

“are you okay?”

“i’m fine.”

zayne rests his head against your back and closes his eyes. he felt stressed but also relieved. this far… he’s gotten this far…

“are you sure you’re okay?” he asks a little bit more desperately this time. his voice and breath tickled your skin a bit. “how am i supposed to know when i can’t even face you?”

you tilt your head back to stare up at the ceiling. the lights should be dimmer, you thought.

“i’m okay,” you whisper. “i don’t feel fear, i don’t feel nervous, i don’t feel anything. can you… will you make me feel something?”

zayne’s eyes fluttered open slightly. he turns his head back to the expanse of your smooth back and rubs his lips together. oh your words…

“i’ll become a man that’ll be capable of making you feel anything you want.”

the hands that were rested by your side went up to your upper mid back and touched the rough feel of your bra clip. with slight hesitation, zayne’s delicate fingers undo the clip and let it pull away to reveal your fully bare back. his eyes flutter even more now.

the moles and freckles of your usually hidden skin was an experience to his eyes.

“i’ll become a man so good that you won’t have to hide your face away in shame. after all, it’s natural, isn’t it?”

cool lips make contact to your back making you perk up instantly. the kisses were spread out, small in sound and in touch, and soon warm. zayne’s free hands not only steady you by the hips but also anchor himself through each press of his lips.

“i want you,” his voice rumbles against your skin.

“i know,” you respond.

“after graduation?”

“it’ll still be scandalous.”

“it’ll be scandalous regardless. who has to know?”

you bite your lip. “is it just a lustful thing, professor?”

your words make zayne stop his affections and stand straight.

“never,” he whispers. “have i�� made you feel that way?”

swallow.

“no… no you haven’t, i’m not lying either. but… i mean dates and stuff, it’s all so public. we’d get noticed immediately, it’d be risky. but… everything else, that’s done privately. so i’m just wondering… how… or where… or what…”

zayne lets out a small humorless laugh. “you’ll be mine soon enough, without all those worries meaning. i get scared too, yknow? but i’m scared enough for the both of us, so don’t… doubt me.”

you smile a little, unsure of what exactly is humorous. “don’t doubt your ability to keep me a secret, you mean.”

“don’t put it like that, you have such a harsh way of saying things,” zayne exhales.

“right, right, i’m sorry.”

you reach back for his hands and gently pull him forward so that his arms crossed over your stomach.

“but that’s what i am, a secret. you’re a secret too. just… become a man capable of taking care of me, secret or not.”

zayne tightens his grip around you just slightly.

“i’m your professor,” he whispers with his forehead against the back of your cranium, “and if nothing else, my job is to you guide you. you’ll be mine soon enough.”

he presses one kiss to your hair.

“you will.”

࣪𖤐

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Jealousy (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you know Sauron is only getting close to Mirdania as part of your plans, but it still bothers you

Warnings: evil reader who is Sauron’s partner in crime (it’s not exactly healthy but you match each other’s freak)

Note: now part of the evil!reader collection (various scenes with the same reader but not written and posted in chronological order)

If she’s not in love yet, she is awfully close to it. You can see it plainly on Mirdania’s face as Sauron—or, as she knows him, Annatar—cradles her hand in his, convincing her yet again to do his bidding with nothing more than a softly spoken word and a gaze that lingers just a moment too long.

“Can I trust you to make sure the others respect his wishes as well?” you hear him say from where you’re standing, only a few feet away. Mirdania agrees almost immediately, looking as though she might pick up a hammer and crush her own fingers with it as well, if her beloved Lord of Gifts only asked.

You are being dramatic, of course. It’s a good thing, having as many smiths of Eregion be vulnerable to Sauron’s deception as possible, but it’s awfully unfair that someone else should get to feel his touch so freely when you, the one with the most right to it, must restrain yourself until you are alone.

By the time they are finished conversing, you are glaring daggers in their direction. If Mirdania notices, you don’t know and you don’t care. It’s his gaze you meet and hold for a brief moment before you turn yours away and leave the courtyard, knowing he would follow.

He had better.

You’ve reached a corridor you know to be empty most of the time, and are striding down it when a hand wraps around your arm and pulls you to the side. You hold back a smirk as your back meets the wall and you stare up into Sauron’s eyes.

“Jealousy does not suit you,” he remarks sharply.

“Feigned innocence does not suit you,” you retort. “Yet you never fail to make it convincing.”

“Mirdania is hardly difficult to convince. And who can fault her?” he says, smugly. He likes to make your blood boil, and you like to let him. It stokes the passion between you. Usually. Now, however, it only serves to further your indignation.

“Who can fault her, indeed?” you say bitterly. “Perhaps she’s not the one worthy of my ire. It was, after all, the Lady Galadriel to whom you oh-so-poetically compared Mirdania not that long ago. Perhaps your time together in Numenor brought you much closer than you led me to believe.”

Your accusation diminishes his playfulness. He puts a finger under your chin, lifting it slightly to better fix you with a warning gaze.

“I do not care for this attitude of yours,” he says disapprovingly. “You were never quite so... irritable, before.”

“Before?” you hiss, removing his hand from your face and holding his wrist between you in a grip tight enough you hope it hurts. “Before you were taken from me without warning, and I was left alone in the world? Living amongst my kind as though nothing had changed, as though I still belonged with them. Playing the obedient little smith as if I was not meant to be so much more. Forgive me if, after all those interminable years awaiting my husband’s return, I do not care to see his fingers in some other elf’s hair!”

Your last words are practically a growl as you release his hand furiously, slamming it into his own chest. He glances at it, then looks at you, having the decency to seem somewhat contrite for a brief moment.

“Had I known it bothered you so...” The slightest smirk tugs at his mouth. “I’d have at least tried to touch her hair out of your sight.”

You shove at his chest, spitting out an adjective in Black Speech with a most indelicate translation in the common tongue. This time, you don’t want him to follow. It’s your full intention to storm away and treat him with nothing but silence until you’re satisfied you have frustrated him as badly as he did you.

You’ve taken a few steps when he catches you by the waist, pulling you with your back flush against his front in the middle of the corridor. You make a sound of surprise, your hands flying to his, but you don’t try to pry them away from you. His mouth is at your ear, hot and alluring.

“There is a purpose to my every word, gesture and touch,” he says, the low rumble of his voice traveling deliciously down your spine. “A purpose of which you are well aware. Our purpose. Do you truly believe a head of pretty hair would so easily sway me, when I spent centuries dreaming to taste you once more?”

His voice has dropped to a whisper, and his lips lower to your neck, pressing gently against your skin to soften you to him. It feels divine, as always, but pride demands you hold back from melting into his just yet.

“What you spent centuries dreaming of,” you counter flatly, “is ruling the world.” Your voice betrays only the tiniest trace of breathlessness as he gives your skin a light, warning bite.

“The two may coexist, and they do. You know that very well.” He turns you around then, holding your chin between his fingers once more. His thumb brushes your lower lip, eyes boring into yours with no trace of the teasing glint from before. “Cease your foolish doubts. Anger makes you impossibly beautiful, my love, but in this moment I’d prefer it if you were angry alongside me, rather than at me. We must stand united, now more than ever.”

That is... infuriatingly true.

Oh, damn him. With his flattery and his touches and his... rational thinking.

“I just...” You let out a sigh with a hint of a groan, your anger giving way to reveal the source of frustration which had driven you to such impulsive actions in the first place. “I’ve grown so tired of this pretense. This ridiculous charade, as if you were as much a stranger to me as you were to the other smiths before you came. Look at us, sneaking around like some rebellious youths exchanging forbidden kisses. They should know who you are. Who we are.” You cup his cheeks and lean in close, voice drenched in unbridled passion. “Husband and wife. King and Queen.”

“And so they shall,” he vows, pulling you against him in a tight embrace as he leans his forehead against yours, “once the work is complete. I shall put a crown on your head, and we shall stand side by side as the world bows at our feet. Before their Lord of Darkness, and my beautiful, terrible Queen. This, I swear.”

Your heart thunders in your chest at the images invoked by his words. Everything you’ve waited and strived for all this time, finally within your grasp. Being supreme ruler of Elves, Dwarves and Men alike. Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that you can never be torn from the one you love again.

“The day cannot come soon enough,” you breathe out, the last word barely escaping before your love captures your lips and kisses you with endless greed, perfectly matching yours. There is darkness within you, and it was always meant to become intertwined with his. One or both of you may be killed, as he once was, but no power in existence could ever truly part your souls. It’s a certainty you see reflected in his eyes as he pulls away just slightly, just enough for his gaze to set you even more alight with desire before he devours you with his kiss once more.

“Soon, my love,” he whispers against your lips. “Soon.”

Previous fic with same reader -> A true gift

Next fic with same reader -> Reveal

[ozzgin]

OZZGIN!

May I request an idea/imagine?

It is about yandere! mental asylum patient and psychiatrist! reader, who is very practical and strict regarding her job, takes no BS from others. But, for some reason, she has a soft spot for yandere! mental asylum patient. The reason could either be he had a hard childhood in which he had to do what he had to do, which brutally killed his father, who used to abuse his mother and sister, but when the father tried to sell the sister into prostitution to buy more alcohol, all hell break lose. Psychiatrist! reader thinks what yandere! mental asylum the patient did was OKAY, and she wants to get him out of the asylum. They love each other deeply and would do anything, so far as to kill for one another. If you can, make it as twisted as you can. I live for some dark romance!

Please ignore my request if you are not able to do it. I completely understand. Thank you in advance! <3

Oh my, this request hits somewhat close to home as I have a friend incarcerated for similar reasons. I'm pondering the logistics behind this context you've provided, since murdering someone won't necessarily land you in a psych ward unless there are other symptoms that come with it. And so I've taken the liberty to expand the character's profile if that's alright. (Conveniently enough I still have my psychopathology lecture notes)

I want to add, however, that this story in no way romanticizes mental illness! If anything, one may consider it an opportunity to reflect on the fact that so many people struggling with disorders do not receive the proper care for it, or only do so when it's too late. Furthermore a medical professional should never, ever behave like this and whatever is written here should stay in the realm of fiction!

Yandere! Patient x Psychiatrist! Reader

Featuring a patient that's pushing the boundaries of your work ethic and might even succeed.

Content/warnings: female reader, detailed mentions of mental disorder, violence, obsessive behavior, breach of professional conduct

You roll up your sleeve and check your watch. He should be here soon. Out of habit, you shuffle the papers for a quick case review, even though you already know all the details by heart. You carefully set aside the patient’s MMPI and WHODAS entry assessments, then your first interviews. Your eyes briefly rest upon the resulting report you’ve comprised: Schizophreniform Disorder (Provisional) with good prognostic features; Diagnostic criteria consisting of delusions, disorganized speech (frequent derailment with episodes of incoherence, echolalia) and comorbid catatonia. Responds well to antipsychotic (clozapine 25mg/12 h) with no imminent need for dosage increase. As it currently stands, he will be fit for proper incarceration in less than 6 months. Is it something you agree with? Not quite. You’ve presented your case many times and it has always been met with pitiful shrugs and dismissals.

The door opens and you fix your posture, sweeping the documents back into your drawer. “And? How are you feeling today?” You ask, flashing a professional, cordial smile as the assisting nurse leads the patient to his seat and prepares her leave. “My chest hurts.” The man answers in a low voice, glaring at the nurse. He taps his foot against the plush carpet, seemingly restless. “How bad would you rate it? Chest pain is a somewhat common side effect of your medication.” You retort, following the movements of the woman finally excusing herself and exiting the room. Once you’re alone, the man’s shoulders droop and he visibly relaxes. “It’s not that, you know it. When can I touch you again?” He pleads, despair twisting his features. You tense up at the words. “Behave yourself. It hasn’t been that long.”

It’s not something you’re particularly proud of. In fact, you might even call it one of your great shames in life. You’ve always been a textbook professional, perhaps even too strict according to your coworkers and most patients. Not even in your wildest dreams would you have dared to imagine you’d violate the code of ethics by falling in love with your patient. But something about his situation stirred your sense of justice. Surely one cannot be punished for protecting their loved ones. The only criminal in the equation, at least in your eyes, was that joke of a father and he had it coming. So you found yourself wrestling against a blooming protectiveness and favoritism towards the young man brought here last month.

What would have normally compelled you into action had therefore been silently swept under the rug. Or even worse, you secretly indulged in it. A patient showing signs of affection towards you would instantly be transferred to a different psychiatrist. Yet you couldn’t put away the letters written by this one. Erratic, crumpled notes of “I love you” written countless times, pencil dug so deep it tore into the sheet. Bizarre illustrations that looked almost threatening. His elaborate delusions before medication was introduced, where he’d detail in grand narratives how you were fated for each other and nothing would stop him from having you sooner or later. You do not know what forces possessed you into this addictive plunge, but you’ve come to enjoy his violent, frenzied confessions. So much, that during one of the unsupervised meetings you let yourself pushed into the sofa as his hands tugged at your body in rabid need. It was so out of character that you wondered if it truly happened, though the bite marks and scratches on your neck and chest proved otherwise.

“Are they going to send me to prison?” He changes the subject and stands up, walking towards your desk. “Most likely. What you have is the result of a traumatic event, not a lifelong condition. Sporadic episodes that can be kept under control with antipsychotics aren’t enough of a reason to keep you in the hospital.” You press your legs together nervously and glance at him. “Can’t you just say it’s no longer working?” He suggests, kneeling before you and placing a hand on your thigh. “You know I can’t lie on the report.” You really don’t like it when he manipulates you like this. “Ah, yes, because lying is worse than fucking your patient.” He scoffs, annoyed. “Don’t threaten me like that”, you say as you turn towards him, but you’re stopped by the rough grip of his hand over your cheeks. “I’m not threatening you, I’m threatening everyone else. Listen, (Y/N), I’m not fucking around. I don’t mind pretending to be crazy if I have to. Will the meds still be working if I steal a shaving razor and cut the nurse open?” You try to open your mouth, but his fingers are pressed into your skin, locking your jaw into place. “I’m not going to prison. I’m not. Then I’ll never see you again and that can’t happen. You know that.”

Eventually he releases his hold, allowing you to speak. "I understand. Then there's no choice but to arrange your escape." You sigh, defeated, and he raises his eyebrows. "Won't that get you in trouble?" You chuckle at his statement. "Either way I'll be in trouble. You said it yourself. Might as well quit before I have to stand in front of the ethics board and have my license revoked." You'd prefer to keep the last ounce of pride if possible.

He sits on the floor and you notice his trembling hands. "Nervous?" You ask. "No. Just really happy. I'm not a bad person and you were the only one here to see it. But God, (Y/N), I'd kill anyone if it was for your sake. I can't wait to hold you whenever I want." He gazes at you as a smile widens on his face.

[twddixonn]

Good Boy

Daryl Dixon x Reader one shot

Warnings/Tags: not proof read!!!, sfw, some swears, shane.

this is my first fic on this account, my first time attempting to write a fic in 4-ish years and my first time trying to write a twd fic. honestly it’s probably not great but I hope it’s at least somewhat decent. :-)

(also written and posted mobile so not sure how it will appear on browser, hopefully not too terrible!)

“Leave me the hell alone.” You harshly whispered, turning on your heels and storming away from the scene in front of you.

Your best friend reuniting with his wife and son. Alive. Not dead. This whole time he had you believing that Rick was dead and gone, never coming back. Yet your eyes were seeing a whole different story to the one Shane painted out for you a couple months prior.

Shane followed pursuit, ignoring the former comment you had made and put a firm hold on your wrist before pulling you behind Dales RV to conceal you from the others.

“Hey, hey . I swear to you Y/N, he was dead when I left that hospital room. He wasn’t breathing. Th- the monitors, they all stopped. Everything went dead. He was dead.” Shane iterated, time and time again.

You feel the anger bubbling up inside you, just like all those other times when Shane had told you Rick was dead and to get it through your head he isn’t coming back. Your hands curled into fists, your nails stabbing into your palm leaving crescent shaped indents.

“Except he wasn’t. Is this why you didn’t want me to go there? Didn’t want Lori to go there? Because you knew if you swooped in and saved her and Carl when Rick couldn’t that what- she’d become your damsel in distress? Is this why? Just so you could get your leg over and fuck your partners wife and become Carls daddy? You’re pathetic Shane.” At this point your head was swarming with thoughts and ideas of what you wanted to do to Shane but better judgement got the best of you.

You began to walk off when a hand reached for you again, this time rougher. Shane pushed you against the RV, his brows furrowed and sweat dripping off his temples- smoke nearly coming out of his ears at this point.

“I don’t know what you think you know but you’re wrong either way. I think you’re forgetting that I didn’t just save Lori and Carl, I saved your sorry ass too. I didn’t have to. That was on me Y/N, That was on me. An’ I ain’t ever looked at Lori like that before, she was Ricks wife and he was my best friend. It happened because I thought he was dead.” He all but growled at you in a hushed whisper.

You remained quiet and stoic for a few moments, registering your thoughts before smirking slightly and speaking again. Pushing Shane’s hand off of you, you began to walk away but not before turning and giving one last snide remark, “I think I know right. And, by the way.. really interesting use of the past tense in those last few sentences there.”

Dickhead.

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“I’ve been here for quite a few hours now and yet, still no hello?” You looked beside you to see Rick crouched with a smile on his face, placing an arm around your shoulder which you leaned into graciously.

“Sorry Grimes.. just- a lot to take in y’no.” You said.

“Na’ I get it. Shane told me what happened.” Rick remarked whilst kissing his teeth and shaking his head.

“He did? Really? What did he say?.”

To say you were shocked was an understatement, Shane had really gone out of his way to-

“Yeah.” He breathed out, “Told me how it started, he tried to get me from the hospital but I wasn’t breathing and he thought I was dead. How he saved you and Lori n’ Carl and got you all here.”

“He told you that huh.” You should have known.

Rick started to stand back up, giving you a pat on the back and a kiss to the forehead first “I’m gonna go get some shut eye, you need too aswell. Talk more in the morning Y/N.” Rick turned to walk back towards camp, not before turning and speaking again, “Y/N.. go nice on Shane though ok? He’s a good guy, you just gotta give him a chance.”

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You wake up the next day to the sound of what you thought was - for once - peace and quiet. Until you hear the shouts outside and a woman screaming stop.

Debating between laying back down and just going back to sleep or getting up and out of your tent to see what was going on, you went with the better judgement and begrudgingly dragged yourself to get changed and step outside.

Shielding your eyes from the rays of light beaming off the Atlanta sun with a sigh escaping your lips at the slight breeze that hit your clammy skin.

“You’d best let me go!”- what the fuck was happening this time?

Walking closer you take sight of Shane with his arms wrapped around Daryl’s neck. A fuckin’ cop getting someone in a choke hold the minute they raise their voice? New worlds maybe not as different from before.

“I’d like to have a calm discussion on this topic, you think we can manage that?” Rick spoke calmly whilst he crouched in front of Daryl, his chest heaving with rocky breaths as Shane’s tight grip didn’t let up just yet.

“You think we can manage that?” Rick repeated.

You zoned out at this point, eyes boring into the side of Shane’s skull with anger.

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“I’m coming.” You didn’t hesitate to jump at the opportunity to get away from camp for a while. The rising tension taking over was beginning to grate at you.

“That’s five”

Shane piped up “It’s not just five, you’re putting every single one of us at risk.” “Just know that Rick”

“Come on man you saw that walker. It was here.

It was in camp.

They’re moving out of the cities.

They come back, we need every able body we’ve got.

We need em here, we need em to protect camp.”

Staying focused when Shane’s voice is droning on for what seems like eternity is quite the mission lately. Listening to him is beginning to seem like nails on a chalkboard.

“-Shane is right. Merle Dixon? He’s not worth one of your lives, even with guns thrown in.”

Hearing Loris voice made you gain attention again.

“If someone left Rick behind-“ you began to join the conversation, maybe with the words aimed at Shane slightly. He clearly picked up on it as his eyes shot to you, if looks could only kill, you’d be six feet under.

“Would you want them to go back for him? Or would you let him stay handcuffed to a roof to die slowly?” Your eyes landing on Lori.

“That’s different. Rick.. he.. he isn’t like Merle. He wouldn’t get himself into that position in the first place.” The stern mom tone coming out as Lori tried to keep her composure and not snap in front of Carl.

“You think Merle purposely got himself into that position? He’s an asshole yeah, and he may have deserved it. But he didn’t expect to be handcuffed and then left behind. Not knowing if anyone was going to go back for him. It may have been an accident. But he shouldn’t have to sit there wondering if he’s just going to die from thirst and hunger or if he’s going to get torn to pieces at the hands of walkers. He may not be your family, but he’s someone’s family. You have your husband, your son. You have Shane. Merle is all Daryl has.” You’re not sure if you were even breathing during that, your chest rising up and down at a rapid speed. You felt rage. How could anyone justify this bullshit?

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Sitting in the back of the van was a bit more awkward than you anticipated. Glenn and Rick up front. You, Daryl and T-dog in the back. Maybe the tension in the back of this van was worse than the tension at camp?

You looked up smiling at T-dog as he avoided Daryl’s intense stare, before he got up and headed to the front to talk to Glenn and Rick.

Daryl kept shooting you glances whenever he thought you couldn’t see, a grunt leaving his mouth every so often as if he was about to talk but decided against it.

Just as you looked up at him, he was already staring with his mouth open yet no words seemed to come so he just scoffed and averted his eyes anywhere but at you.

You began to grow a bit frustrated at him. “What?”

“Nothin’” he all but murmured.

“Stop grunting and scoffing at me like a dog who didn’t get enough treats, be a good boy and just say whatever it is you’ve been wanting to say for the last 15 minutes.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at yourself.

You could have sworn you saw a light tinge of pink cross his cheeks before his head dropped down facing his lap.

His mouth opened and closed, before opening once again “Why’d ya stick up for me.. for Merle back at tha’ camp?”

Oh. That’s what this was about? The intense looks he gave you before this made you think it was about anything but this.

“What do you mean?” You had to admit you were somewhat confused at this.

“Ya said it y’self, Merle, he’s an asshole. So why’d ya go out of ya way to defend him? Why didn’t ya just side with the others and leave him?” Head dropping once again as his thumb found its way to his lips as he gnawed on the nail.

Silence.

You were stuck for words. “He is an asshole. Maybe one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever known. But he’s your brother, maybe not the greatest one but still your brother no matter what. He’s all you have left. The others may not understand, but I do.” Taking a deep breath in and thinking about your next words carefully, “I honestly couldn’t give a shit about him. Doesn’t mean I want him to suffer up there on that roof. No one deserves it. Well I mean maybe some people y’no? Really bad people. And maybe Shane. Merle, he’s not necessarily one of those really bad people. He makes mistakes, says things he definitely shouldn’t and has actions that match, but don’t we all in one way or another?”

Daryl was slightly overwhelmed. Not expecting you to be so honest and caring? Somewhat caring anyway. He didn’t know what to say.

You hummed and tapped your fingers against your legs, “Nothing to say?”

“I dunno what you want me to say.”

A grin made its way to your face.

“How about a thanks?”

“Thanks.” He grumbled trying not to scoff afterwards to avoid being called a dog again.

The van began to come to a stop, Glenn saying something about walking from here.

You stood up whilst stretching your arms above your head.

“That’ll do. Good boy.”

You smirked at him before opening the back of the van and climbing out. Leaving a blushing Daryl in the back trying to hide his face as he groaned standing up.

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authors note: it’s not the greatest, I am very aware. but I really wanna get back into writing in general and I thought starting with twd would be the best place to start as it’s one of my comfort shows. there’s not much happening, it’s very heavily based on s1 e3 obviously but it’s mostly just to try and get back in the swing of things! if you have an constructive feedback or any comments you’d like to make, please feel free as it will be much appreciated :-) I’m hoping to improve my writing skills more and more. It will probably take a while (I’ve literally had the first half of this thing in my notes app since June 2024) but I hope to get to the point of making some good fics! thank you for reading if you managed to make it this far!:)

[st0ryf1lms]

home, that's a weird word ➳ ken sato

pairing: ken sato x reader

word count: 1.5k

genre/warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, undertones of xenophobia, basically how i interpreted the last thing kenji said to ami on their first interview, grammatical errors (most likely), no beta we die like men, personal assistant!reader

synopsis: the word "home" always left a weird taste in kenji's tongue when he said it.

a/n: AAAAAAAA I'VE FINALLY WRITTEN A THOUSAND WORD FIC AFTER 2 YEARS IM SO HAPPY!!! and i'm really hoping u guys like this bc i really am so proud of this sooo enjoyyy!!

It had been a long day, as far as Kenji is concerned. Way too long for his liking. All the cameras and microphones pointed at his direction, all those flashing lights-- a man could only take a few for so long, and Kenji has had enough of his share for the day. As he gets off his bike, all he can think of is the comfort of his own bed, how his pillow would feel against his head and how the duvets would feel covering his skin.

He opened the door to his house, surprised to see you sitting on the couch with the living room lights turned off. Your back was facing him, and with your laptop's glaring LED screen being the only source of light in the room, all he could see was your crouched silhouette.

"Already settling down, huh, Y/N?" He spoke, breaking the silence in the room. "Oh, Mr. Sato, you're home," you say unfazed, as if the only thing that was powering you right now was your laptop's battery. "Just wanted to stay for a while to catch you so I can brief you for your schedule tomorrow." You stated, closing your laptop and standing up to turn on the lights on the dim setting. Kenji sighed and closed his eyes as he plopped down on the couch in front of you, serving as a signal for you to start.

"Okay, so, first thing in the morning, Mr. Sato, you have baseball practice which Coach Shimura insists you attend, an interview scheduled…" Your voice becomes buzzing in his head as he looks out the window, a view overlooking the city. The sound of laughter and joy drifting out from the street below, making him feel very alone in this somewhat new town. "…Sato. Mr. Sato. Are you even listening to a word I say?" You say exasperatedly, not sure if your asshat of a boss actually understands that you came from a 12-hour flight, too, and want nothing to be in the comfort of a nice and comfortable bed. You follow where his gaze is at, looking out the window where the busy streets of Tokyo are hustling and bustling as the nightlife slowly rises. You look back at your boss, sporting a solemn yet longing look on his face- earning a tilt of confusion from your head.

"Can I ask you a question, Y/N? Off the record, please." He asks, eyes remaining trained on the window. "Have you ever felt like you've never belonged? Like, no matter where you go, no matter who you are, you'll never find yourself home?" He finally looks at you, noticing your once tense figure now replaced with a relaxed yet calculating stance, figuring out what to say to him. The silence feels like forever as he awaits an answer from you, Kenji letting out a sigh as he hangs his head down low.

"Ever since I had moved to LA, I lost all sense of the word 'home.' Hah, even saying it right now leaves a weird taste in my tongue. All those kids back there, they always told me to 'go back home,' and when I did go back to the house where my mom and I lived, she'd always tell me that we were right at home. Now that I'm actually back in my 'homeland', it feels so weird to even call it that now." He blurted out, his previously relaxed figure on the couch is now one of a crouched one, his head still glued facing down on the floor. "In LA, I felt too Japanese to fit in. The culture shock hitting me every single time I try to do something I was used to. Now, here in Japan, I feel too American now to even call myself a local. Even speaking in my own tongue feels weird to my mouth and my throat."

He finally looked up at you and saw a blank yet somehow shocked expression adorning your face. His eyes slightly widened and his breath hitched in his throat as he quickly realized the gravity of his words and who he was speaking to about a sensitive topic. You, on the other hand, was internally slack-jawed. What the helllll, is this really happening???? You rhetorically think to yourself as your boss, The Ken Sato, the egotistical baseball superstar, literally just spilled his guts in front of you, his personal assistant whom he keeps at an arm's length.

"I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-" he stuttered as he racked his brain, trying to make up an excuse for what he said. You still stayed silent and eerily still. "A–are you still there? Hello? Earth to Y/N?" He asked, cautiously waving a hand.

"Yes," you cleared your throat, "yes, Kenji." You say, his contorted face relaxing as he hears his name slip your mouth. You clear your throat once again before starting.

"You know, if I may, I'd like to believe that home is a construct you make and that a place doesn't really define it. Sure, in kindergarten, we get taught that the definition of home is a place where you live in but as we get older, don't some things actually change? And I'd like to say that the word 'home' is one of those things. As a child, we would say home is where our parents live. As teenagers, we'd say home is with our friends as we laugh and joke with them on various different occasions of our lives at school. As adults, I believe we can be left to define 'home' what we fit it deem to our liking. After all, home is where the heart is, am I right?" You ramble on, pacing around the living room as you animatedly explain with your hands as Kenji follows your every move.

Realizing your mouth once again moved with a mind of its own, you straightened up and cleared your throat. "Ahem, sir. Right, well, I better get going. Long day tomorrow." You nervously chuckled, refusing to look your boss whose privacy you've seem to have invaded as you spoke without filter. You tentatively grab your things and slowly head to the front door, feeling your boss' eyes on you follow your every move as if saying you've overstayed your welcome.

As Kenji trains your every movement, he realizes what you're about to do and stands up abruptly from his place in the couch.

"Y/N, wait."

Your hand hovers above the door handle, eyes closed as you brace for the impact of what your boss is about to say. Please don't fire me, please don't fire me, please do-

"Do you mind if you stay the night?" He says and your head snaps back to look at him, as if he'd grown another head.

I- I mean, not like that, b- but, well… Well, you know what I mean." He sheepishly clarifies, his hand bringing up to scratch the nape of his neck. The silence is awkward and deafening, and he was about to open his mouth to take back what he said but you beat him to it.

"Sure. I'll stay the night, Mr. Sato." You face him with a soft smile.

"Please, Y/N, Kenji's fine."

He leads you to the spare bedroom he has in the house and asks Mina to deliver a fresh set of clothes where you'll stay.

"I just want to say thank you, Y/N. I know I don’t say it enough and I'm sorry for that. I appreciate everything you do." He sincerely told you, looking into your eyes with nothing but pure admiration and gratefulness. "It's all in the job, sir." You say before realizing, wincing as the honorific accidentally leaves your mouth. You open the bedroom door before saying,

"Good night, Kenji."

"Good night, Y/N."

BONUS:

Kenji wakes up to the noise of cooking downstairs, with a pair of voices talking back and forth. He rubs his eyes free of sleep and lifts the duvets off of him, getting up from his bed and out of his room.

The voices become clearer as he goes down the stairs on the way to the kitchen, where he makes out your voice and Mina's, seeming to be guiding you as you follow a recipe she reads out. "Y/N, he's awake." Mina alerts you as you turn to face him.

"Oh, good morning, Mr. Sato. I hope you don’t mind, Mina told me you barely use the kitchen anyway." You nervously chuckle as you focus your attention back on the stove. "Please, Y/N, what did I tell you?" He visibly cranks up at the mention of his last name early in the morning.

"Right, Kenji, I mean." You quickly recall, still stirring the pot. "That smells amazing, what's that?" He says as he walks over you, looking over your shoulder.

"I know it isn't really for breakfast but Mina told me how it was your favorite, so I made curry. Or, at least, attempted to make it." You explain cautiously, slowly looking over to your boss who's currently sporting a look of surprise.

"M-may I?" He gestures to the spoon. You nod and hand it to him, scooting over to give him a taste. His eyes close and you start to feel anxious, building up an excuse in your head to tell him.

"Tastes just like home."