#angst and comfort

[puppybei]

Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Sukuna, Choso, Toji

Warnings: Insecure reader, hurt/no comfort, they’re being like really mean and they will hurt your feelings so yeah.. not proofread.. Geto will be added later on…

Wc: around 650 for each character (4.3k in total)

Satoru Gojo

You’ve always been kind of loud around the ones you held close to your heart. Even more with Gojo who’d always match your energy tenfold, it filled you with so much joy to be around someone who enjoyed your company as much as you did his.

Gojo’s sitting next to you, arm slung around your shoulders loosely as he nodded at whatever you were talking about. Your voice had become slightly higher in pitch, excitement evident with every word you let out, after all it was Gojo, he’d always be listening to you,

“So then the male lead said-”

Gojo sighed and you paused in between your rambling, tugging at his sleeve softly, like you were the little girl whose father never looked at her till she was begging him for his attention. Your Gojo pulled himself away, flipping out his phone and scrolling with a bored expression,

“You can be so loud sometimes, you know? It’s just crazy how much you can just keep talking”

Oh

You felt a stutter in your chest, your voice quietening down to nothing as you sat stiff next to him. You didn’t know what to do, let alone think. A million thoughts ran around in your head. Gojo thought you were loud, all this time when you thought that he genuinely enjoyed your company and wanted to listen to you. God you felt stupid, after all you’d never really changed from that loud, annoying kid from the fifth grade had you? Always too much, too loud, too talkative, never able to sit a moment still and that’s all you’ll amount to even if decades pass and you're older.

You wondered how long he had kept this information to himself, how many times he must’ve clenched his fist as he let you ramble on like some stupid school girl while internally he hated every word that came out of your mouth. He must’ve spent a thousand tired nights letting you talk about some irrelevant show just so you would be happy. Oh god, you felt like fucking shit, the self depricating thoughts multiplied one after another as you sat next to your boyfriend, feeling more like a burden he was putting up with than his lover with every passing second.

“Uh ‘toru?, I’m gonna go to bed, night baby,”

Your voice was quiet, so very quiet that Gojo barely made out the words that came out of your mouth. He nodded in response, untangling himself from you and letting you pull away from him.

The bed felt cold and you didn’t know if it was the bed or the hollowness of your own chest that made you feel so empty. The tears came shortly after and you felt like your heart was being squeezed, heavy weight on your rib cage as you tried to be as qiuet as humanely possible. The tears that fell on the silk lined pillows grew cold as you tossed and turned in the bed, trying everything the soften the growing pit of unease in your stomach.

By the time Gojo returned to the bed you had pulled the covers over your face, feeling the bed dip with his added weight. You had stopped crying an hour ago, though the pain settled deep in your bones and you felt like a five year old, tearing up by his mere presence. He pulled you onto his side, arm curled around your waist as you felt him snuggle affectionately into your hair. You let him, you dont know why, maybe the pathetic part of you still craved for him when things got too hard for you too handle. After you were sure his breathing had even out you slipped out of bed, entering the guest room without a word.

Suguru Geto

Mornings are always lazy with Suguru, he’ll whine into your neck about how he doesn’t want to leave and wrap his arms around you, jostling you around just for the fun of it. The twins will pad into your room not soon after, jumping onto the bed and annoying you both, till you wake up and made breakfast for them.

The routine is simple, it’s easy and it’s comforting. Suguru cooks breakfast while you slowly make the girls go through their morning routine. He takes a shower and you plate the food and prepare the lunch bentos while the twins sit politely at the dinner table. Finally, the entire family sits together and eats breakfast as Suguru hears about the twins' progress and all the pretend play they did the day before.

An hour later and everyone’s out of the house, bentos placed securely into their bags and chaste kisses placed onto the twins’ cheeks as Suguru pulls you in for a secret one behind their backs. You’ll smile into the kiss and he’ll murmur about how much he’s gonna miss you, acting like pulling away from the kiss was causing him third degree burns.

Today was like every other day, you shut the door behind you with a soft click. The house was enveloped in silence and you smiled to yourself, after the chaos of the morning faded away the house was all yours and it came with the sudden hit of drowsiness. You barely pushed yourself to the couch before promptly passing out, only awakening when the clock hit eleven.

By this time you’d start cleaning up a bit, the empty dishes on the tables, the clothes strewn across the bedroom of the twins and then a few minutes of gardening. You stopped when a flash of black caught your eye, it was Suguru’s lunchbox, something he should have taken with him to the office. He must’ve forgotten it when the twins tackled him to the ground earlier this morning.

You decided you’d bring it to him, he’d be so grateful if you did. So you got ready, a simple outfit and just the basic amount of makeup, you didn’t want his coworkers to think you were a slob.

His office had twenty floors and he was at the very top, a company he ran alongside Gojo. You hummed a tune in the elevator as you slowly ascended up, the receptionist was already aware of who you were, courtesy of Geto never shutting up about you apparently, it brought an embarrassed but giddy smile to your face.

The heavy metal doors finally opened and you were greeted by Geto’s and Gojo’s secretary, Ichiji who Gojo recruited at college, a man you quite honestly felt bad for with how much they were working him to the bone. He waved at you when he saw you, a tired smile on his face as he told you leave the box on his desk because Geto was on a call.

You wanted to peek at your boyfriend while he was working so you hid a giggle as you stood outside his door, stiffening when you heard your name through the small creak of the door,

“She’s not the twins’ mom, she’s doing too much,”

You don’t know how you made it back to the elevator in one peace, your feet carrying you all the way back home as your thoughts swallowed your time. Did Geto not want you to look after them? They’d even called you mom accidentally a few times and you felt like you had developed at the very least some kind of motherly affection for them.

You spent hours with them daily and they adored you, it was evident in the way they called out for you during their nightmares and clutched at your hand when they fell asleep in your arms. You felt oddly cold, like a wave had washed over you and you were still standing in the middle of the ocean waiting for something that was never going to be yours.

How could he think you were doing too much? You made sure to run every decision you made regarding the twins through him and he’d never showcased his displeasure. He probably didn’t want to hurt your feelings, but to know that he was going behind your back and telling others that you weren’t suited made you feel like shit.

You knew that you’ll never be the twins’s mother, you never expected to fill that role, just hoped that maybe Geto would appreciate the work and love you put into raising them. But it was clear to you that he’d never see you as any sort of mother figure to the twins and it hurt you, the twisted feeling in your heart caused you to start crying on the couch, rubbing at your blurry eyes as you tried to calm down.

Kento Nanami

You’ve always sort of been kind of clumsy, constantly bumping into the corners of tables, stubbing your toe, spilling water, burning yourself while trying to cook something. Nanami’s known about this and as a precaution for you (and himself if he’s being completely honest) he’s always taken care of the tasks that leave you a bit more injured than before.

Cooking for the both of you is a task he takes great pride in doing, but Nanami’s been coming home late from work. Exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulders and even you can see it with the way his smile barely reaches his eyes. So you decided, for a change you’d cook and this time there wouldn’t be any unfortunate surprises.

The meal was simple, a favourite of Kento’s to welcome him home. A dish his mother used to make that he always held in high regard, singing praises about it to the point that even you would start drooling whenever he would talk about it. But the main thing is not only was it absolutely divine, it’s also his comfort food, one he made for himself and never asked for your help, always brushing you off with a gentle smile, telling you that he’d rather you not hurt yourself for him.

You’re almost half way done with, when you hear the familiar jingle of keys and in the process of rushing to greet your husband, you accidentally stub your toe against the door of the kitchen and in an attempt to keep yourself from falling you grab the marble counter, pushing a glassed dessert off and watching it shatter onto the floor and break into a million pieces.

You heard Kento’s voice before seeing him, he called out your name, immediately concerned for your safety as you sheepishly smiled at him. He stood on the threshold of the kitchen door, still dressed in his formal wear with one shoe haphazardly pulled off in his rush to get to you.

He sighed, dropping the suit blazer from the crook of his elbow as an almost stern expression came across his face,

“You don’t have to- I’ve told you multiple times that I’ll take care of the cooking right sweetheart? Why must you be so stubborn and do this when I’ve never-,”

He rubbed his palms over his face, breathing in deeply as you stood frozen in place, apologies spilling from your mouth as you tried to pick up the broken pieces of glasses,

“No stop! I’ll take care of it. Just please, go inside,”

He pulled you away from the kitchen, hand curled around your upper arm as he shut the kitchen door behind you. You felt like a five year old kid again, standing as still as physically possible so your parents wouldn’t get mad at you for messing something up.

You carefully sat down on the worn down cushions, playing with the ends of your fingernails as a million thought ran its course through your head. You knew it wasn’t his fault, Kento’s just been tired and on edge lately but it still hurt nonetheless, to be treated like you were a child incapable of any basic tasks. You knew Kento didn’t think of you like that but it doesn’t help when you’ve been treated like an overgrown child your entire life by the people around you just because you’re a little bit more clumsy than others.

Kento just wants you to be safe, you know that and yet it hurts, it hurts so much to not be able to do anything for the person you love so much because at the end of the day you’ll just be as incompetent as a child. You didn’t want the day to go like this, you wanted him to be surprised, to appreciate the fact that you could do something for him, take care of him like he did for you but in the end you’ve just burdened him more.

Wet, hot tears make it down the apples of your cheeks and you aggressively wipe them away, feeling like you didn’t deserve to cry, not with the way you’d fucked up everything tonight.

Choso

Choso’s sweet, he’s nice and kind and everything that you should want in a man. He holds doors open for you, pulls your chair back whenever you go to a restaurant, always lets you walk on the inner side of the sidewalk and he’s a gentleman overall. It’s just sometimes he can be really really obtuse.

He says things that can hurt though they only wound someone if they’re also insecure. You let the tiny comments slip by, always making sure to educate him whenever you can because he does mean his best. He's just unaware of how certain phrases can have different connotations or how they can mean something other than the literal meaning that the phrase is intended for.

You’re at a party with your boyfriend, recently you both had decided you wanted to go to gym, partly because you’re scared you’ll be sixty years old with chronic back pain and partly because you’ve been putting off getting into shape for a long time. So you both had been rigorously following a diet, making sure to count your macros and micros and following the diet plans you found online.

This party was the first one in a few months you’d felt free enough to let loose, you’d lost some weight gained some muscle and you felt confident enough to splurge a bit more on food, after all what’s the point of life if you’re just constantly restricting.

Choso came behind you as you scooped up another ladle of pasta, the rest of your mutual friends sat in the living room, lounging around as easy conversion filled up the space.

“Are you sure you really wanna get another serving?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, turning around to make eye contact with a confused Choso. A pit had already started to form in your stomach, the all too familiar feeling of insecurity and shame. Choso smiled at you when you put the pasta back in its bowl, suddenly hyper aware of the Aircon that left goosebumps on your skin, the party music that thrummed through the house, the feeling of fabric sticking to your skin and the humid air that wafted in through the open windows.

Choso said something else and pulled you with him towards the living room where a dance circle had formed, other couples swaying to the music as singles sat on the couch loudly booing. Choso had his hand on your waist and suddenly you felt sick to your stomach, like everything you had eaten was going to come back up and claw its way out your stomach.

You felt too full, like everyone’s eyes were on you and mocking, making fun of you like they did in high school, pointing out every insecurity for shits and giggles. You shook your head as Choso looked down at you, he didn’t mean it like that he just doesn’t know, but what if he did. What if he meant it with his entire heart.

Choso’s the perfect boyfriend and if you were going to lose him because you lacked some self control, you bit your lip, resting your head on Choso’s head and trying to ground yourself by listening to his heartbeat.

He didn’t mean it like that but the old anxiety started to itch at the seams, begging to be let out, to make you drown in self hatred and misery as it took control of your entire life. To poke and prod at your own skin and point it all out in front of a mirror to make you feel like a stupid teenager.

You pushed away from your boyfriend, disgust pooling in your stomach as you made up some stupid excuse and got into the car, looking out the window as Choso drove you home, worry evident in his face as he tried to figure out what was wrong. Once you reached, you said you wanted some alone time and slept in the guest room, tears falling down and staining the cotton pillowcase as you hugged the comforter around yourself, too far in hatred to want your boyfriends comfort anymore.

Toji Fushiguro

Toji’s quiet when he finally comes home, he’s texted you earlier, unusally curt and just slightly cold. He’d be coming home late, actually he’d been coming home late for the past few days, always stressed and pushing off your worries without a second word. Today, you’d decided that it would change, he’d have to talk to you, it’s been ages since you both had a proper conversation.

“Hi baby, how was work?”

You trailed behind him, watching him shrug off his blood stained jacket and plop it into your arms without a second thought. He merely grunted in response and you furrowed your eyebrows, usually you’d take this as a sign that he didn’t want to talk and back off but you really needed your husband back, you were itching at the seams for some cuddles and at the very least a bit of quality time spent together,

“Are you hungry? I made dinner, or do you wanna rest up first? I switched on the heater if you wanna take a bath,”

He walked into the living room now, ignoring your questions as he sunk down into the couch with a disgruntled sigh, turning his face away from you and burying it into the soft cushions on the couch as you stared at him from above, heart thumping irregularly as anxiety clawed at your skin,

“Toji? Baby-”

Toji’s green eyes snapped open and he shot up from the couch, his face twisting in anger and exhaustion as he cut off your words,

“What is it with you woman! It’s either one thing or the other! Can’t you take a fucking hint!? Always fucking yapping off in my ear like some incessant parrot!”

You don’t really remember when you stopped registering the man’s words, taking a step back as he inched closer and closer into your space until your back hit the wall with a soft thud. The weight of his coat felt heavy in your arms and you swallowed the saliva that pooled in your mouth out of fear.

You could almost feel your face twitching in fear, every minuscule movement that Toji made was being hyperanalyzed by your brain and at the same time you barely had any control over your emotions, let alone your feelings.

Everything felt methodical, at one point the man brushed past you and slammed the bedroom door shut. The anxiety and fear that was running hot in your veins felt cold, far too sudden and you felt sick, like you were going to throw up. Your mind was chanting at you, trying to bring you back to ground as the tears streamed down your face, crouched down next to the wall as you bit your lip harshly.

Toji had never yelled at you, and the apparent effect he had on you was obvious as you tried not to scratch at your own skin. Your heartbeat was the only thing you could hear, your mind was conjuring up images of the man you love, standing above you with a face you didn’t quite recognize. You shut your eyes close trying not to succumb to your own head.

It felt like hours had passed when you finally laid down in the couch, throw blanket pulled haphazardly over you as you rested your head on the old couch pillows, were you really that needy? That loud? had Toji finally gotten tired of you. As much as you tried to shut the self deprecating thoughts out, they only grew in number.

Sleep had found you well past midnight with red rimmed eyes and a stuffy nose. You shivered in the cold night and hugged your own body asleep in an effort to comfort yourself.

If Toji wanted space, then space you’d give him.

Ryoumen Sukuna

Sukuna has always been rough around the edges, formed by years of neglect by his own parents and then fighting for his rights at a place supposed to be his home. He had it all from the outside but if anyone cared to get to know him then they’d know that deep inside lies a little kid who just needs love. And so he tried to fill the hole in his heart with multiple women, girls who fell for his bad boy look, the ones who wanted a piece of him and lingered afterwards like an old coffee stain.

Then came you, too sweet for his own good. You first met him while working on a project together and Sukuna couldn’t help but be captivated by your charm, your kindness that was even able to break his stone cold heart, and somehow he grew on you.

Soon after you both started dating, your lease came to an end and he proposed you try living together. After all, it had been a year and half since you both started dating and it only seemed normal to move in with each other at this point, you agreed without much resistance and soon you both had moved in together.

The little cracks in your relationship had unknowingly started to show, to put it in the least offensive words, you were kind of a slob. It’s not like you didn’t clean up or look after yourself, it’s just that it took you some time to get it done. Dishes would be in the sink to be done at night and by then the entire kitchen would be spotless. You cleaned your room maybe once a week, considering half of the time you were lounging around in the living room with Sukuna.

The problems started to arise when Sukuna was forced to work from home after a nasty fall and a fracture. That’s when he started to notice your habits, he’s start tch-ing at you whenever you left something dirty lying around, cursing loudly when he’d try to get a cup of coffee just to find all the dirty cups in the sink. You’d offer to clean a cup up for him but he’d just push you away and do it himself.

It was day ten on his house arrest that the words slipped out as you were picking up a few clothes when Sukuna unfortunately tripped on them, catching himself on a table,

“She never fucking did this shit…”

It was a mumble, barely meant to be heard by you. Unfortunately for him you did, and unfortunately for yourself, once you started spiraling there really was no end to it. Later that day, after making the house was as clean as it could physically be, you were left alone with yours thoughts.

Usually for you, doing something productive and listening to music would be enough of a distraction to keep the voice in your head quiet, but there was literally nothing you could do and Sukuna was too busy with his back to back meetings for you to annoy him. You’re not sure how you’d even face him after the comment he made earlier.

A second later and you were scrolling through his instagram page, the women he dated in the past always tagged him, making it a point to show him off like some hard earned trophy they won. The last woman who’d tagged him was his ex, the longest one of six months and they had even moved in together.

You mindlessly scrolled through her page, she was pretty- like instagram model pretty. She had an immense amount of following and when you scrolled down enough you could see posts where she plastered all over Sukuna and suddenly all you could feel was the tightness of your chest that shook your entire body.

One rabbit hole led to another and suddenly you were scrolling through all of Sukuna’s exes, the tears fell with every swipe, your vision was blotchy and nose red. Your throat felt uncomfortable but you really couldn’t help but compare yourself, and with every passing minute you started to loathe yourself a bit more.

How could Sukuna not get tired staying with you, a disgusting mess at home who didn’t even try to impress him a bit. You felt like a failure, wondering why Sukuna would even choose you over the girls that he usually went for, chewing your lip and picking at the skin of your fingernails as you shut your eyes and tried to focus on anything else.

You stirred awake when you felt warm air tickle your ear, Sukuna had joined you in bed, tucking his head in between your shoulder and head as he drifted of to sleep. You could feel all your imperfections hit you like a train, could your boyfriend really even stand to be in the same bed as you? Were you even worthy of him considering he had girls lined up to date him after you were gone. You couldn’t do anything but stay stiffened up on the bed as he slept peacefully, unaware of your inner turmoil as you tried calm yourself.

A/n: Ignore Sukuna’s being like 200 words longer than everyone else’s I have a huge soft spot for him sorry for all the mistakes if yall could point it out I’d appreciate it thanks good night

[i-dared-myself]

Useless

Stray Kids x reader

Requested by anonymous: Hi, my love!! How are you? May I please request an ot8 stray kids x 9th member!reader (I love the ones you already made so much!!!) in which she gets in an argument with one of the members and the others take said member's side? Then maybe it could be angst + comfort because she feels hurt and betrayed that they wouldn't listen to her. She tries acting like everything is fine, but she's sort of unconsciously distancing herself because being around them still hurts. And the boys desperately try to make amends. I hope this isn't too much and that it's understandable 😭 English isn't my first language. Ily take care!!

Just as a heads up, reader has some thoughts debating how needed she really is. Nothing too intense, and nothing happens from it, but heads up regardless.

Everyone has defined parts in the group,” the interviewer says. She holds the microphone up to your mouth. “Anything to say about that?”

“Everyone is really talented.” You ignore the flashing of cameras and the crowd calling your name. “Bang Chan is such a great leader and we’re so lucky to have him.”

“And the others?” she presses. 

“Oh, well, Han and Changbin are great rappers. We’re lucky to have them with us. Not to mention that Seungmin and Lee Know’s vocals are amazing.” You look past the interviewer to see Chan and Jisung watching you carefully. 

You were great with reporters and very level-headed, but incidents happened. Plus, they just like to support the other members. 

“Hyunjin is so good at dancing, as are Felix and-“

“And you?” she prompts. She raises an eyebrow and purses her lips slightly. “What do you bring to the group?”

You hesitate. “Pardon?”

“All of the categories are pretty well covered by the others. What do you do?”

Your mouth goes dry. You hadn’t thought of this before.

What did you do?

You weren’t the best rapper. You couldn’t hit the high notes like the others. You stumbled sometimes in dances.

“Uh…” You smooth your hands down the dress you are in. “I’m a good mix of everything. I balance out the group well.”

“But… Isn’t that useless?” 

“I- I guess so.” Your voice cracks and you swallow the lump in your throat down.

Chan steps in front of you with his signature time to fix this smile. “Hello, everyone!”

The crowd surges forward and the cameras flash faster and brighter. People are screaming out questions now, and he pointedly ignores them all.

“Our lovely member here,” Chan says, “doesn’t have to be special.”

What?

“She’s just herself.” Chan smiles down at you, unaware of the turmoil rolling through you. 

You force a smile and hope it’s as natural-looking as his. 

“We need to go for practise,” Chan tells you, loud enough for others to hear. It’s an obvious exit strategy. Security comes to clear a crowd, and Chan walks by your side through it.

His words echoed through your head. Did he really think that little of you? Were you nothing more than just another body?

You climb into the van, popping your ear buds into your ears. You press play on your music and tune the others out. They jostle each other and finally someone falls into you.

“Sorry.” Felix laughs as he turns around to poke Hyunjin’s cheek.

You hum and scroll through your feed. Everything is about how you’re useless. People are posting about how even Chan doesn’t want you around.

Jisung mumbles something to you that you don’t catch. You remove your ear buds to hear him ask, “You good?”

“Yes,” you curtly say. You turn your phone off and place it in your lap.

“Are you sure?” Jeongin cuts in, forehead creased with concern. He reaches out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder, but you shrug it off.

“Just leave it, okay?” you snap. You lean away from him and to the window you’re next to. “It’s fine.”

“It doesn’t seem fine.” Chan’s expression is concerned, but he hides it quickly. “Come on, maybe I can fix it.”

“Maybe you can’t,” you sharply say. “Maybe you’re not as great a leader as you think you are.”

“Hey, I don’t think I’m that great of a leader.” Chan chuckles lightly, but it’s a choked sound. “And does that have something to do with this?”

“No.” You move to return to your music, but Minho wraps his hand around your wrist.

“Seriously, what’s up?” Minho applies gentle pressure, but not enough to hurt. “Tell us before we have to force it out of you.”

“Not by torture,” Jisung clarifies. He frowns at Minho. “I’m pretty sure, at least.”

“Oh.” Hyunjin raises his phone screen for the others. “I think it’s this.”

The all read some of the comments on the video he had found before facing you. Seungmin is the first to speak.

“He’s not wrong. Chan told the truth.” 

You tug the dress down to cover more of your legs. “What?”

“You’re special because you’re you.” Felix pats Chan’s back and gives you a disapproving look. “You didn’t have to hurt his feelings like this. You’re overreacting to just a couple of people.”

“Just a couple?” you rasp. You cough to clear your throat. “Everyone’s demanding that I leave the group now!”

“Don’t be dramatic.” Changbin scoffs as he crosses his arms. “Chan was trying to help.”

“But he didn’t!” You wrench yourself from Minho’s grip and end up hitting your head on the side of the van. You bite down the cry that threatens to escape.

“Are you okay?” Chan unbuckles himself and shoots across the vehicle. He wobbles in place before cupping your face. “Oh my- Does she have a concussion?”

“No, she’s fine.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “This is why you’re a good leader. You worry about nothing.”

Chan sighs and settles back in his seat, stretching the belt across his body before clipping it in. “I guess you’re right.”

You rub the tears off your face. “I think I’m gonna skip movie night. I- I wanna practise for the comeback.”

You don’t want there to be any mistakes that could be picked out.

Jeongin suddenly gasps. “Oh! We should watch that new action movie! It has that actor we like! The funny one!” 

“It got good reviews.” Seungmin glances around the others, taking in their faces. “I like the idea.”

You wanted to see it, but it was fine. You could wait to watch it later.

“Have fun,” Jisung cheerily says as you’re dropped off at the studio. Minho slides the door shut before you can respond.

You run through all the routines about ten times each before taking a break. You debate it for a moment before picking your phone up and scrolling.

Everyone has been clipping your mistakes and compiling videos comparing you to the other members. All Stays alike have united to declare you the most useless member- even those with different biases.

Actually, when had you ever heard someone say you were their bias? Others heard it all the time, yet those words had never met your ears.

Did everyone hate you? How long had this been going on?

And maybe you cry as you think about it, but that’s between you and the empty building. 

So you pick yourself up and you to make yourself better. If Hyunjin can nail these dances, so can you. If Minho can radiate confidence, so can you.

Even if no one cares enough to notice it.

It’s difficult to master, but you eventually can run through it smoothly without fumbling. You’re proud of yourself, enough so that you shut the music off and curl up in the corner. You flick your phone on to see Felix is live.

“What do I think about what Chan said today?” Felix pauses to consider it, tilting his head. Strands of hair flop into his head. “I think words just were misinterpreted.”

You set the phone down and lay on your stanch to watch. You want to see where he goes with this.

“What he meant is that she doesn’t have to be able to bend her elbows backwards or something to be special. She’s just great the way she is.” Felix taps his chin. “Honestly, what I think makes her such an awesome member is that she’s here to support us at all times.”

You watch as his freckles scrunch up as he grins.

“She puts so much effort into making sure that we’re doing well, that we just do better.” Felix reads the comments before humming.

People are all talking about you. They’re bringing up moments where you’ve cared for the others. Like when you reminded Chan to get sleep. When you went out of your way to speak English with Felix. That time you surprised Jisung with merch after his favourite anime character died.

“I remember this one time I was really nervous, and she-“ Felix cuts himself off, the colour draining from his face. He rushes through his goodbyes before the live ends, and you’re left confused.

What just happened?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit, guys!” Felix exclaims as he bursts into the living room. “She’s out at the studio by herself!”

“Yeah, and?” Seungmin props himself up on the couch. “She said she wanted to practise.”

“It’s almost midnight!” Felix hisses, gesturing out the window. “She’s all by herself! What if she walked home and got kidnapped and there’s a ransom-“

“She’ll just phone if she needs someone to pick her up,” Jeongin casually says. He hangs his head off the couch so his hair dangles.

“Except she thinks we’re mad at her!” Changbin snaps to attention and jumps to his feet. “Minho! Call her!”

Minho stops whatever it was he was doing on his phone and brings up your contact. He presses the dial button and it rings twice before you pick up.

“Hello?” Your voice meets their ears when he switches it to speaker. 

“Where are you?” Chan demands. He scrubs his hands over his face.

“At the studio?” 

Everyone lets out a sigh of relief.

“Anyways, I’m about to head home…”

“Nuh-uh! We’ll come get you!” Hyunjin grabs his keys and chucks them at Chan. It bounces off his chest due to him not paying attention. 

“Guys, I’m fine.” You sound tired and weary and Felix is filled with guilt. “I’ll just order a car to pick me up. I have a mask and everything. And it’s not like I’m special enough for anyone to recognize me.”

Jisung winces. “You sure?”

“Yup,” you say before ending the call. It beeps before Minho turns it off.

“What did I do?” Chan groans. He sinks onto the couch. “This is all my fault!”

“No, we were the ones who made it worse,” Changbin says firmly. “We’ll deal with this together.”

They sit in silence, occasionally murmuring an idea on how to get you to forgive them. All of them seem measly and not enough.

Then you walk through the door, still in your outfit from the press meeting. Your skin is slick with sweat and you have no jacket.

“It’s cold out!” Chan immediately says before he can stop himself. “You’ll get a cold and- and-“

“Shut up,” Minho mutters to him.

“How did it go?” Hyunjin warily asks. They all scrutinize your expression.

“Good.” You discard your mask before looking up at them all. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“We appreciate you,” Jeongin blurts out. “You’re amazing and great and-“

“You don’t have to say that.” You walk around the group and to the stairs, going up without another word. They hear the water start up before bursting into conversation.

Various insults and accusations are being thrown around until Chan stands up.

“Enough!” He spreads his arms and glowers at them all. They shut up instantly as he radiates leader-mode energy. “We need to deal with this before it blows out of hand!”

“What if we all tell her something we like about her?” Jisung suggests.

Seungmin scowls. “That’s nice and all, but we’re going to run out of ideas since there’s eight of us.”

“So you’re saying you can’t think of at least eight nice things about her?” Hyunjin scoffs and shakes his head.

“No, I’m saying that someone is going to panic and say her ass.” Seungmin stretches out on the couch. 

Felix flicks his forehead. “Maybe just don’t think about her ass then.”

“I don’t! But someone,” Seungmin shoots a pointed look at Jisung, “struggles with intrusive thoughts.”

“I can control them,” Jisung weakly says.

“Let’s just scratch that idea.” Chan pinches the bridge of his nose tiredly. “Whats another idea?”

“What about candy?” Jeongin snaps his fingers. “Bribing works!”

“She’s emotionally hurt, not a child who just got a shot,” Minho scolds. He slowly turns to stare at the stairs. “What if…”

“I don’t like that look.” Changbin narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What is it?”

“Remember that song she likes and tried to teach us the dance to?” Minho arches an eyebrow as the tips of his ears turn red.

Felix buries his face in his hands. “Not that!”

“I will not degrade myself for her,” Hyunjin announces. “No way am I humiliating myself for-“

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We have a surprise for you!” Chan declares once you step out of your room. Your hair is still damp as you adjust the hem of your pyjamas.

“What?” You lean against the doorframe.

“First of all, we’re so sorry for-“ Chan begins.

You hold up a hand. “I forgive you. I’m just a little mad, but it’s better than before. Felix’s live helped clear some stuff up.” 

“Jisung.” Chan nods to the man, who presses his phone. Music starts playing, and your eyes widen.

“You guys did this for me?” You gasp and cover your mouth as Beyoncé starts blasting.

They don’t respond, too concentrated on the ‘Single Ladies’ dance. You watch in giddy delight as they go through the movements.

When they finish, you clap as loudly as you can.

“You’re forgiven,” you say. You brandish a finger at them threateningly. “But don’t do anything like this again. Or else.”

You walk away, hearing them whisper about what it is your vengeance could possibly consist of.

@captainchrisstan

[odorefal]

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ he’ll never own up to it, but you know athlete!sukuna credits your kiss for his winning streak; his lucky charm since that match last season.

the habit began that time: a playful kiss on the cheek before a game. you’d dragged him aside at halftime, given him a quick peck, and said, “you’ve got this.”

from then on? he came back, racked up 30 points, carried the team to a win, and took home mvp. ever since, sukuna’s been rather fixated on the idea that your kiss gives him the edge.

his pre-match ritual’s locked in; a tradition at this point now, and today’s no exception.

you’re caught up holding seats for a friend, not even noticing sukuna taking the court. he stops short mid-step, eyes narrowing as he searches the crowd — and finds you.

"come on, lucky charm," he says with a playful pout, tipping his cheek toward you expectantly.

“what?” you blinked, confused.

sukuna’s eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at his lips. he lean down, hand resting behind your seat, and tap his lips. “you owe me, remember?”

“you’re not gonna fall apart.” you sigh, shooting a glance at the team warming up as the pieces come together. “you really think one kiss is that powerful?”

“proof’s in the scoreboard, sunshine.” he smirks, leaning in just a little.

you roll your eyes, but your body betrays you, leaning toward him like it’s second nature. your lips graze his lips, soft and warm. his hand finds your waist, fingertips pressing into your side as his thumb strokes lazily over the hem of your shirt — lingering, like he’s testing how long he can stay.

you’re breathless when you pull away from the soft to deep kiss, his gaze heavy-lidded and fixed on your lips as his thumb traces the edge of your jaw.

“perfect.”

he’s halfway across the court when he slows, turns his head, and flashes you a lazy grin. “better sit where you can see me. you won’t wanna miss this.”

and sure enough, the shot is clean; textbook perfect. his eyes meet yours across the court, his smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth like, i told you, sunshine.

[zee-rambles]

———-

“Being helped isn’t a sign of weakness.”

First I Prev I Next

[shinoko-oshi]

Just Because’s - Simon Riley

It started small.

You brought him new socks.

That’s it — socks. Nothing fancy, just a twenty pack of black ones from the store because you noticed his were wearing thin.

That night, he went down on you without a word. No buildup, nor teasing, just dropped to his knees while you were brushing your teeth, pulling your shorts down like it was his next mission.

You didn’t even have time to ask.

When you tried to stop him, said something like, “Babe, you don’t have to—” he just looked up at you with that dead serious stare he got at times and said, “You got me something.”

Like that explained it.

The next time, it was a bottle of his cologne. He was running low. You ordered it before he even mentioned it, leaving it on the bathroom sink.

He kissed you that night, slow and sweet, like it was the last thing he’d ever do. And then he fucked you like it was the only way he knew how to say thank you.

But that wasn’t the part that made your chest ache.

It was later, when you sat on the couch beside him, wrapping up in a warm blanket, your head resting on his shoulder and he stiffened slightly, then turned to ask, with a almost cautious tone:

“What do you need?”

And you blinked, confused “From what?”

“Well your coming to me, what do you want me to do?”

You laughed softly at first, thought maybe he was joking.

But he wasn’t.

His shoulders were tense. Jaw locked. He looked ready to stand, like if you told him to go scrub the entire kitchen with a toothbrush, he’d already be halfway to the sink.

That’s when it hit you.

This wasn’t just gratitude. It wasn’t about being a good partner.

To him, love had a price tag.

Every nice thing came with invisible strings he thought he owed you for. If you cooked, he cleaned like it was owed. If you rubbed his shoulders, he wouldn’t rest until you were trembling from something he did to your body. You left a note in his lunchbox once, just a simple “hope you have a good day”, and when he came home, he barely let you make it to the bed before he had you gasping his name in the dark.

Not out of desire. Not always.

Sometimes it was out of obligation.

You saw it in the way he watched you afterward, waiting and tense, like he was checking to see if you were satisfied enough to let him breathe again.

One night, it broke your heart wide open.

You had made him tea. That was it. He looked tired so you put on the kettle.

And when you handed it to him, he didn’t smile. Just took it and stared into the mug like it had insulted him.

“I didn’t ask for this” he muttered

“I know,” you said gently. “You don’t have to ask.”

“I didn’t do anything to earn it.”

The words shattered your heart.

You sat beside him, slowly, and reached for his hand. He let you take it. He always did. But he didn’t relax or soften.

So you said it as plainly as you could:

“You don’t have to earn it, Simon, that’s not how this works. I’m not keeping a score. I’m not waiting for you to pay me back.”

His eyes flicked to yours.

“I love you,” you said, “and sometimes love looks like tea or clean socks or maybe a new cologne and that doesn’t mean you owe me your body, or your time, or anything.”

He was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands.

“No one’s ever done that for me before.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to his.

“Well, they should’ve”

And maybe he didn’t say anything else that night. Maybe he didn’t know how.

But he let you hold him.

And for once, he didn’t try to earn it.

Sorry for not posting, im finally back and out of the slump I was in lol

anywayyy what we thinkkk?

This idea was in my head for over three weeks now and I think I like it better now that I’ve written it, bit of angst and comfort, that I think fit Simon yk?

Master list

look at my cat

[bamboobooshark]

Hiiii I just found your page and omg I love your writing so much. I actually did get into an argument with my friend, and I deactivated one of my intas cuz of it (long and stupid story) but it was really comforting to read Logan wanting to coddle and comfort someone yk

You can ignore the request if it makes you uncomfortable, but do you think you can write something where the reader doesn't really know or understand what regression is or why they feel this way so they isolate when they feel childish or playful or start annoying people without realizing it and Logan who loves and cares for them starts to miss them and is like wtf and helps them.

Thank you for your writing I hope you have an amazing day.

LOGAN HOWLETT X LITTLE!READER

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ☁️་༘ COMFORT & CONFUSION : 991 WRDS

<RATING : PG, VULENRABLE MOMENTS, CRYING>

A/N : Just a little note for Anon; I am so heavily greatful that my fic was able to bring you so much comfort. I hope you’re recovering well from what happened. Apologies for taking so long to get this out for you, I always get caught up in spilling and detailing my concepts that end up becoming full fics. I truly hope this fic is what you were hoping for <3 !!Warning for a pinch of angst and crying!!

You’ve been isolating yourself in your room since you woke up. You feel so confused with yourself, with your mind, with your feelings. You press your back against your headboard, legs crossed one on top of the other. You gently rock back and forth while struggling to understand how you’re feeling; why you’re feeling the way you do. Yeah, you’ve got a ton of energy right now. You feel like you’re letting your inner child express itself in your mind, yet you’re holding them in as best as possible. You’re terrified of annoying anyone by releasing those feelings, espically Logan. You bite and chew at your lips nervously as you rock a bit faster. Why? That’s the only question you can ask yourself right now. Over and over, your mind fills itself with nothing but confusion of why you feel like this, why you yearn to be so childish, why you’re scared of annoying Logan when he loves you unconditionally.

You’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts as the man knocks on the door. “Everything alright in there, kid,” he asks with his face pressed to the wood. God, the way he calls you kid only makes these foreign feelings harder to suppress. You choke back your tears before responding. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just feeling a little down,” you reply with a tone that’s involuntarily soft and childlike. Logan raises his brows at the way you speak to him. You’ve never kept yourself away like this, but he’s been noticing a pattern lately. You isolate yourself the moment you wake up, beg him to leave you alone, and then come out quiet and reserved. He continues to press because he misses you so damn bad. He’s willing to do absolutely anything to get you in his arms again. “Please tell me what’s wrong, bub. I promise I’m not going to be upset with you,” he pleads with the softest tone he can force out of his throat. “I mean, I’d be more upset if you didn’t trust me with whatever you’ve got going on,” he chuckles akwardly.

You wipe your tears before inviting him in. The second he realizes that you’re crying, his lips form a frown and his eyes give you a sympathetic gaze. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, baby. I’m right here. I’m not leaving, I swear,” he scrambles to reassure you, sitting on your bed and pulling you into his arms. You let your cries get thicker once you lean into his. He smells so fatherly. His large, calloused hands make your entire body shiver with comfort. Everything about him is sending an unknown, unfamiliar feeling that you’ve been yearning for. You can’t even begin to imagine what to call it, but your body allows you to relax under his touch. “That’s it, baby. Let it all out. Tell me what’s up once you’re ready to,” he coos as his hands rub up and down your back. You nod against his chest, letting the thumping of his heartbeat soothe you.

You pull back from his embrace, but hold his hands in your own. His touch is what you’ve been needing. Scratch that, you’ve been needing Logan in general. You attempt to try and explain things, but you end up stammering and stuttering. “I’m sorry, Logan. I just — I don’t even know what to say,” you apologize while looking away from him. He squeezes your hands gently and sighs. “You don’t need to apologize, kid. I’ll be here as long as you need me to be. If I have to wait here for hours for you to get your thoughts together, I don’t mind. You know that, bub,” he tells you sincerely. You look at him and give him the best smile you can considering the circumstances.

You take a deep, shakey breath after a few minutes of silence before attempting to describe your feelings. “I’ve just been feeling like a child lately. I’ve had so much energy and excitement and joy for no reason. It’s so confusing and it’s scaring me Lo, it really is. I just want an answer,” you explain to him. His thumb rubs against your knuckles lovingly before he presses a silent kiss to your forehead. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry. You’ve got such a big heart, kid. I need you to understand that you don’t need to be afraid to let those feelings loose around me. I’ll love you no matter what,” he promises while holding your face in his hands so you’re looking at him. You nod gently, eyes glossy and wide from the way he comforts you so paternally. “I understand,” you mumble back, letting that same childlike voice slip. Logan gives you a gentle smile, failing to hold back a snicker. “Well would you look at that. You sound so little, baby. It’s adorable,” he says while attempting to hold himself back from squeezing your face. You giggle softly and shake your head no. “It’s not adorable, Lo,” you protest. Your stomach knots as you allow yourself to slip into this pure, innocent state. As soon as Logan begins to coddle you further, that knot unties itself and becomes a flutter in your heart. “If you deny anything else I say, I’ll have to find a way to get back at you for it. You’re too damn cute to not accept that you are,” he playfully threatens. “C’mere you sweet thing,” he growls as he pulls you into his lap. “No! Let me go,” you giggle sweetly, squirming in Logan’s arms despite wanting to stay right where you are forever. “I’m not letting you go, kid. You’re mine. My sweet little thing that I’ll protect with my life,” he declares before starting to pepper your face with soft kisses. You can feel him smiling like an idiot against your skin from the sound of your giggles, the way you smile, and the warmth of your face caused by him.

[peachsayshi]

(minors / ageless / blank blogs dni) ok but do you know how quick sukuna would fold in an argument if he ever made you cry?

we know he can get there. we know he can be difficult to communicate. but picture this:

he barks another reply, his responses always so sharp. the frustration gets you riled up and you can’t help but sniffle, can’t help but let the welling tears finally fall. you turn your back to him, your shoulders slump and miss the moment where the realization strikes him, where all the irritation and anger inside him evaporates.

“you…you can be such an ass…” you murmur, choking out a sob as you wipe your tears.

you don’t want him to see you.

two arms are around your waist then, “I’m sorry,” he huffs, “fuck, angel, I’m sorry, please don’t cry…”

and you turn to his embrace, because you love him. because his apologies are incredibly sincere towards you, and you alone. his voice is suddenly so gentle, his words chosen ever carefully.

yes, he can be vicious and rabid - but not towards you. never towards you. the guilt eats him up alive.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, keeping you firmly against him. his chin resting atop your head, one hand massaging the back of your neck.

people say he’s incapable of this, but his love towards you is immeasurable regardless of their opinion. they don’t understand and they never will. but in a moment like this he will always hold himself accountable, reminding himself never to cross this particular line with you.

you should never taste his cruelty, no matter how natural it exists within him.

so, when he cups your cheek in his palm, his eyes drooping in regret, you know that he recognizes his mistake. his thumb wipes away the tears, his lips pressing to the apple of your cheek. “I’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, “I lost my temper”

you squeeze your hand around the fabric of his clothing, another shaky breath leaving you. but when you gaze up at him from underneath your lashes, you know you’ve already forgiven him.

he rests his forehead against yours, another kiss follows but it’s a peck to your lips.

“you need to work on that,” you pout, your hands reaching for his jaw and he melts between your fingers like butter.

“I’m trying,” he exhales, mostly disappointed in himself. “I’m trying…”

[retiredteabag]

Hidden from sight

Synopsis: In a state of humiliation, you attempt to hide an injury from your master, Sukuna, this, of course, does not go to plan.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

Foolish.

That, you were sure, was what Lord Sukuna would call you when you returned to the estate.

He was a harsh, and strict man. He never liked for you to stray from his presence too long, and more than anything else, he was mean. He said what he wanted, and always meant it.

You had begged the king of curses to allow you a day amongst the townsfolk, a day to explore the gardens outside of Sukunas domain, a day to see and hear and feel the world you so rarely saw.

The king, of course, was not too keen on this. You were not a member of kitchen staff, or a concubine, or a groundskeeper either. Like many people on the compound, you were simply a servant to the king. Yet, your relationship was not one that could be compared to your peers.

Beloved to the king, perhaps being too strong of a word. You were special to him, however. He expected your attendance at his meals or downtime. One might think you were close, but the truth of the matter was:

You hardly knew the king.

And he barely spoke to you either.

You had come to the palace an adult, knowing little of the king's mannerisms. Meeting him on rare occasions proved a thrilling experience. He was unlike any man you had ever met.

One evening, your presence was needed in the bath chamber. You had been told to assist in the cleaning of your king. Nonplussed as you were, you pled your case. An uninformed and inexperienced launderer. You were in no position to touch the king, too dirty yourself to even wish for such a position.

Having been told to never deny the king of anything he demanded, you were certain the response would not be one of pleasure. You escaped that day unscathed, a mere,

"Then depart from my sight"

Uttered from him, eyes closed, hand shooing you away.

But time passed and with the phases of the moon, so too did your relationship with the king alter. Night after night you grew more and more certain the king was calling for you directly. You grew acquainted with the king, with his bloodthirsty antics, with his unforgiving nature, with his intolerance for rebellion.

You served him through it all.

Twas' your job.

A launderer.

A foot servant for your employer.

You were sure, he would not be forgiving if you returned to his estate in such disarray. Only having warned you to be mindful a mere two hours prior, you limped from the ache in the side of your pelvis.

Your feet shook on the uneven ground beneath you. You had only just left the village you so desired to see, basket in hand full of goods to bring to your fellow maids. Evening was falling and the memory of the king's warning flooded your mind.

As you had made the trek back, the sight of a deer in the woods had shocked you. Certain you were looking at a curse, you gasped, lunged for cover, and promptly tripped over a stone lining the path through the woods.

Too eager to protect the contents of your basket your hands had been too occupied to catch your weight. You were certain there were scratched on your knees, but the real pain came from just above your hip, where an ill-placed stone had bludgeoned your flesh.

Dark red sept through your kimono, it had never looked so much like your kings. But he would not be pleased. Of this you were sure.

Foolish.

Too easily frightened.

Weak.

You knew little of Lord Sukuna's vast abilities. One thing you knew for certain was that the king had the ability to feel the souls of those around him. He knew when someone was guilty when someone was excited and fearful. He could sense it as if he was feeling those things himself. For this reason, before drawing too close to the palace gates, you steadied your heart and mind, reaching for peace as to not alert Sukuna of your presence so soon.

You went first to the washhouse, and rid yourself of the filthy clothes. After which, you were at once able to see the depth of your injuries. It had hurt, your way back to the palace, but after seeing them for what they were, you had to fight to keep the spike of panic from rising. How could you hide this? Hide it from him?

You wash your kimono of the coppery smell, disposing of it behind a pile of extra wash bins. You occupy your hands by dabbing at the open wound, wrapping yourself in a linen cloth, and dressing in one of the extra cleaning uniforms.

You were so caught up in walking in a straight line back to the estate, you almost forgot your gifts and whine out at the thought of making the trip back to the wash house. But you steel yourself and do it.

By the time you make it to the kitchens, it is far later than you intended. You simply drop the basket off on a staff table, wobbling to your chambers.

All you want is to sleep, to hide yourself from all the noises of the estate night shift, but the throbbing pain in your side is intense, and worse, you've bled through both your linen bandage as well as a laundry uniform. Even so, you are too tired to come up with a way to right this, you decide, that will be the job of tomorrow y/n.

-

Of course, when you arise the next morning, unable to sit up, you regret your choices of the night prior. Unintentionally a wail escapes your lips, the pain is so deep, so unchanging that you want to cry. You feel the humiliation once again from yesterday, what would Sukuna say if he knew of this? Would he remove you from the estate? Or would he simply look at you with disgust? Would he ever speak to you again?

Something you were sure of, at least, was that there was no way you would be able to work, bent over a wash basin, in the condition you are in. Knowing that, you were concerned with how long you could hide away in your chambers before someone came to get you.

Several maids had already come to speak through your door, asking about your trip, the basket of goodies you left in the kitchen, and eventually, in concerned tones, if you were alright.

You reassured them in a comforting voice that you were quite well but exhausted from your journey and would likely retire before dinner was served.

You had never been up however, still, the other launderers did not question your words, sure you just needed a nights more rest. There was, however, a person in the estate you could never evade, and contrary to popular belief, it was not Lord Sukuna. He certainly did not care enough for you to need to hide yourself from him, however, his loyal servant and chef, Uraume, always had everything in order and was aware of all the "goings on" that occurred within the estate walls.

Only a few minutes after the communal dinner bell was rung did Uraume arrive at your chambers, requesting your presence. Unfortunately, they were not so easy to dissuade. I have no appetite did not work, I long for rest, did not work, I tire from my journey, did not work. None of it worked. They were determined, if nothing else, to see you. There was nothing to be done.

In a grand effort, you slid from your bed to the floor, a dull moan muffled by the mattress as you strained your legs to rise but it was a tireless endeavor. Wincing, you shuddered to the door, opened it a crack to meet th Uraume's stern eyes.

"You are unwell." They announced.

You knew you could not lie, not directly. Still, you attempted to fib your way around it, claiming your menstrual cycle was nearing, but it did not work, claiming you had eaten something foul in the village, they merely squinted at you, you were blundering, grasping for straws. In your desperation, you did not notice Uraume's foot slip out to the threshold, slowly pressing your door ajar.

You had been resting your weight said door, and yelped at the pressure. The chef raised an eyebrow and pressed on more firmly. You called out their name and stumbled to the floor.

"You've been attacked?" They question but the pain is so intense you can simply shake your head, in a show of patience you rarely see from Uraume, they brush the hair from your face.

You knew they could use reversed curse technique on themself, but the management of this injury was something that would likely take time.

In the moments it took Uraume to lift you to your bed, and start to clean your wound they had you recount the story, in between each sentence you begged them to keep this from the king. Do not say a word, I beg, followed by, I pray you wouldn't speak of this, ending your story with Lord Sukuna mustn't know.

Even with all the begging, they never once promised you a thing. Pressing your gouged pelvis more firmly still, they wiped your eyes of tears. And when you finally met their gaze, their look seemed to whisper, do not be stupid. You could only hope.

-

Your hope had been stupid.

You knew it had been last night when Uraume had bandaged you up, you knew it had been when you fought to dress yourself this morning, you knew it had been when you trudged to the wash house, you knew it had been when you began to set up a bin full of sudsy water and even now, bent painfully over, scrubbing away at towels, you knew of your fate.

You had been invited to dine with the king. Once dismissing yourself for not being worthy to wash your king's body had been shockingly, acceptable at one time. But you knew you could not skirt this. You could not deny your presence to him twice.

And in his presence, you knew you could not hide. Uraume had been the one to collect you before the evening meal, washing you, clothing you, and redressing your wound. You walked with intention now, three steps behind the personal chef to the king. You found, however, that you would not be having dinner in one of the many dining rooms, but rather, in the kings chambers.

In an attempt to plead once more, you made to grab Uraumes robe, they simply gave you a look of greatest disdain, opened the door to Sukunas chambers, and bowed.

You could not meet his eyes, you could feel them as they traced over you. Despite the fiery pain, you fell to your knees. You did not speak, Uraume left, and you stayed glued to the floor.

"I hold no affection for those who hide from me."

You could do nothing but nod in your place on the floor. "Yes, my king."

"You know this."

"Yes, my king." You nod again,

"And yet-" You can hear his voice ever louder, he has gotten up from his place on the bed, coming to you, his steps echoing in your ears. "You evade me like an elusive snake." He paces around you steadily. "You hide yourself from my presence, and you beg" He spits it out, vehement, "beg- Uraume to keep your condition from me."

He has stalked behind you now, and begins to creep ever closer to your side, bending to your position to whisper in your ear,

"Did you believe I could not find you, did you think, even for a moment, you could fool me?" You cannot read his tone, nor his face, too ashamed to look.

He stretches back to his full height. "You have always been the one who's appearance I delight most in. Yet, now, you only appear at my demand. Must I demand you to speak as well in order for you to tell me why you have shamed me so?"

Shaking your head quickly, you heave, "I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I did not want to- to show you-" You began but Sukuna cuts you off, whirling around,

"That much is very clear. Tell me why without the blabbering nonsense. I wish not to hear apologies fall from your lips now."

You murmur once more, ashamed, but speak up, "I am such a fool." You look up, resigning yourself, you want to see his face, "I wished not for you to see me as such. I am a weak and poor worker. Please, know, I did not mean to shame you."

Sukuna does not respond. Silently making his way to your form, "You cannot even stand on your own. Do you intend to lay there all night, or do you expect aid to be granted to you?"

He sounds genuinely curious, you are unsure of what to say, you had no plan. Your head falls to your lap but in a sudden movement, Sukuna is before you, one arm stretched out to catch your crestfallen face, "Look at me." He speaks gentler than you have ever heard.

With one hand on your jaw, and another cupping the back of your head he huffs air from his nose. "You are a fool."

You cannot look away from him, but all you want now is to hide your face.

"So very foolish." He speaks clearly, "To hide from me, to work in such a condition." Before his words even hit you, you are struck but the grasping of your waist by his other two hands. His eyes remain open but within a moment all your pain is gone. An unintentional noise escapes you at the immediate relief you are brought.

It cannot be said whether the shock of Sukunas RCT or the grasp he had on you caused you to fall limply into his grasp but you have no time to prepare before he is lifting you tenderly into his arms. An unseen sparkle in his eyes. He carries you the few feet to his bed before he lays you across his lap.

"Your condition is not ideal. You shall not work. You are to stay with me" He is petting your hair rather oddly, as if you are a wounded animal he has found.

Attempting to rise you start, "I feel- I- I must extend my gratitude-"

But he is placing a hand on your stomach to keep you down, "You will extend your gratitude by never hiding from me again."

There is no room for argument. You nod up at him. He has one arm still under your knees, another on your waist, and a third stroking your cheek.

"I will never allow you pain again." He murmurs. "Never again." His palm is large enough to cover your face wholly. "I shall keep you within my sight henceforth."

And it is at this moment that you wonder if, perhaps, you are closer to the king than you had originally thought. If you, by chance, meant something to him? If he had been worried for you. But in your dazed state within your king's arms, you smile to yourself, thinking tiredly of how kindly and merciful he had always been to you.

What you did not yet know, was that it was he that was a fool for you.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The Reader gets jealous/upset because Sukuna gets Concubines, with a happy ending though. pleaseeeee

Wish I didn’t care

Tags: true form!Sukuna x fem!Reader, king!Sukuna, royal au (?), angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending i promise

An: Ooo, this was such a good idea. Thank you for requesting it from me!! I hope it’s everything you wanted!!

Sukuna never felt the need to give you a title for being in his life. To him, titles were superficial… There wasn’t a title in the world that could explain or encompass the complexities of his relationship with you.

However, you, coming from the mortal realm, wanted a title. It’s not that you wanted the power that was associated with being the betrothed of the King of Curses. You just wanted to feel.. irreplaceable to him.

So, to make you happy, you were his wife.

Kings rarely ever are allowed the luxury of marrying for love. Most kings marry daughters of other powerful kings to create allies between nations. However, Sukuna didn’t need allies. He didn’t need to marry for power when he had more power than he knew what to even do with.

Everything was simply child’s play for him. He even stopped trying to conquer the mortal realm because it was just too damn easy for him. The “sorcerers” could barely even put up a fight. It was embarrassing.

Life was truly becoming boring for him.

That was, until a female curse was delivered straight to his chamber. He was confused and honestly pissed that Uraume would simply guide this harlot into his chambers without his permission. Only you were granted such luxuries.

He was leisurely splayed in his bed with no cloth to cover himself. He truly appreciated the concept of being completely in his own skin at all times, and he often encouraged you to do the same. Though, he also learned to appreciate your more modest approach. You didn’t have to show any skin to get Sukuna riled up.

“State your purpose.” His voice was low and menacing as he spoke to the woman. He slipped his robes on over his shoulders, tying it in the front so he was no longer exposing himself.

“My father sends his regards. Says that a newly wedded king deserves a ‘fresh’ concubine.” The girl spoke with no humility towards him.

Sukuna’s face twisted in disgust that her dad would even suggest such a thing. He was even more put off that she described herself as ‘fresh’ as if she were a type of vegetable in the garden.

“Your father can kindly go fuck himself. I’m not interested.” He responds coldly, and his large palm grabs onto her shoulder with the intention of throwing her out of his chambers. He knew that if you saw her here, you’d probably be devastated.

“My lord-“

“I am not your anything. You address me as Lord or King, but make no mistake. I am not your lord.” He rudely cuts her off, not letting her think she has any sort of claim to him.

“Okay, Lord Sukuna, when’s the last time she’s fulfilled her wifely duties? I can see she’s not in here tending to you now, right? She’d probably feel grateful that you’re being satisfied around the clock.” The concubine’s voice was like a purr, and she looked up at him with eyes that’d rival a siren’s.

And for a split second, Sukuna almost considers her offer.

“You’ll never believe it, Kuna!” Your happy voice fills the air, and the door swings open to reveal you holding a small flower in your hand. “I got a jasmine to bl-“ Your eyes fall upon to scene in front of you.

Sukuna’s towering over an unfamiliar woman. His hand is touching her neck and shoulder area, while she has her hand leisurely pressed against his bicep.

“Who’s.. this?” You quietly ask, and immediately, Sukuna can feel a strange feeling pour into him. It feels like… guilt? He regrets even momentarily entertaining the idea about this harlot occupying his bed.

“Nobody-“

“Oh my lady, it’s nice to meet you. I apologize. Lord Sukuna and I were just getting aquatinted with each other since we’ll be seeing each other a lot from now on.” The serpent of a female cuts him off, and he immediately realizes just what this is. Whichever king decided to send her is hoping to ruin his marriage. She’s quite literally a snake in his garden, trying to ward his wife away from him.

“I don’t… understand.” The way your voice sounds so small. The small pout upon your lips. The way the flower you were once carrying with such confidence is now sagging in your hand. Fuck. Sukuna felt like a complete imbecile.

“Oh, come on now. You know he has needs that are beyond your abilities. I’ll lay with him when you’re too-“

“Enough.” Sukuna’s voice snaps. His teeth grit together as he practically drags the woman out of his chambers. “Go fuck off for a while. I’ll deal with you later.” The door immediately slams in her face.

After a moment of trying to comprehend what just happened and how it all happened so quickly, Sukuna slowly turns to you. It feels like a gut punch once he sees the tears brimming in your eyes.

“That wasn’t…”

“You took up a concubine?” You ask in a sniffle. Your hands are barely even holding the jasmine that’s you were once so excited to show him. Flowers rarely ever bloom in Sukuna’s desolate kingdom, but with hard work and determination, you had gotten a jasmine to bloom in his kingdom.

“No, she was sent to me. I didn’t seek her out.” He tries to dispel the claims while he slowly approaches you. His chest aches as he watches you take a step back away from him. “Do not cower from me, woman.”

“Was I not good enough? Was I not doing enough for you..? I thought… I thought it was good, b-but I can try harder.” Your voice is so shaky, and you won’t even look him in the eye. What has he done?

“Silence. You will not speak of yourself like that to me.” Sukuna orders, and he takes another step forward. You take another step back with another sniffle. Your tears are streaming down your cheeks.

“Please…” The word sounds foreign on his tongue. He’s never ever pleaded for anything in his life. He could simply take what he wants, but he doesn’t want to hurt his delicate flower. He wants her to seek out comfort in him. “Please don’t cower. It was not like that. She showed up at my door, spoke of lies and filth, and I was trying to throw her out when you walked in.”

“So you didn’t even con..consider taking her on as a concubine?” You ask while you rub the tears away with the back of your hands. Hopefully, this was all just a poorly timed miscommunication.

Sukuna takes a moment before responding. He has two options. He could tell you a white lie that would instantly comfort you, but it would be a lie. Or he could tell you the truth and face the consequences of his actions.

“It was one moment of weakness.” He replies carefully.

He instantly wishes he just lied from the way your face immediately twisted in disappointment and pure hurt. The jasmine falls from your hands, and your footsteps trail away from his chambers, leaving him dumbfounded.

Sukuna is immediately on your trail, unable to let you be. He needs to fix this. His dear wife is upset, and it’s all his fault.

A pair of hands slither up his arm as he walks. He already knows who’s touching him based off the nasty feeling from their contact. “My lord, let her be. She needs to-“

“Dismantle.” The concubine’s body drops to the floor in two, split directly at her waist. He had warned her already about referring to him as her lord. She didn’t deserve to speak of you so carelessly, and she didn’t deserve to live after causing this rift in his marriage.

Sukuna continues on his hunt for you without another hitch, leaving the harlot’s body right where she once stood for one of the servants to clean up.

He searches for you in all your usual spots: the gardens, the kitchen, the library, the rooftop. You’re no where to be found. You don’t want to be found. He starts to wonder around his perimeter. The longer he goes without finding you; the more his heart starts to race.

Did you leave him? Did he lose you for good?

The thought of not having his delicate flower by his side makes his body feel ill. You must’ve placed some sort of binding curse on him, but he didn’t necessarily mind.

He’s close to waging war when he finally sees your small human body tucked underneath a weeping willow on a bed of grass. His body moves on it’s own: running to you. When’s the last time he’s ran like this?

Crouching over you, he can see no visible injuries on your body, but he knows he’s wounded your heart with his foolish actions. How could he ever have a wandering eye when you were the real prize?

His four arms carefully scoop you up and cradle your body as he takes a seat underneath the willow. Your poor cheeks are flushed and tear stained. Your eyes and lips are so puffy. You must’ve tired yourself out from crying.

“I’m sorry, flower.” He whispers softly, even if your eyes are still resting. He pulls your body closer to his chest, and he contemplates when he started becoming so soft for you.

A part of him hates it. That small unconscious voice of his telling him that he shouldn’t concern himself with the feelings of a mere mortal, but the bigger part of him knows that he can’t just ignore you. He cares far too much for you.

“Kuna..?” You murmur as your hands rub your eyes. You’re immediately met with remembering just why you had fallen asleep. “I do not wish to see you right now.”

Sukuna chuckles quietly from your defiant little comment. It reminds him of when you first arrived to his estate. “Then close your eyes.” He simply states as one of his hands start to comb through your hair. “Woman, tell me what to do to fix this.”

You shift your gaze away from him with a small huff. If he wasn’t so much bigger than you, you’d try to wiggle away from him. However, you know it is of no use. “I don’t know, Kuna.” Your words are sharp and still so full of emotion. “Imagine how you’d feel if I told you I contemplated sleeping with someone else… in a moment of weakness.”

The sheer thought of it has Sukuna’s anger burning up like an inferno. You’re his delicate flower. No one would even know how to take care of you like he can. His arms subtly tighten around your frame. “I’d kill every man you gaze at.”

“Well, men can rest easy because I only have eyes for you.” You mutter while rolling your eyes. “I love you so much that the thought of being with someone else repulses me, and it… just really hurts that you don’t feel the same.”

“Flower, I took you for granted. It was a brief moment of contemplation, but I instantly decided against it. I did not desire her in the slightest.” Sukuna tries to explain, and his hand gently brushes against your soft cheek.

“You still don’t deny that you don’t feel the same for me.” You respond quietly, still not giving him the satisfaction of you looking at him.

“You are everything to me. I will not lose sight of what’s important again.”

“Kuna.” You finally look up at him, and you frown slightly. Sukuna secretly adores the little nicknames you have adorned him with, but he’d never admit it.

“What is it, woman?” He asks, titling his head to the side a bit to get a better look at your face. You’re so pretty in his lap like this.

“Do you love me?” You quietly ask, even if you can already hear his voice telling you ‘do not ask questions you don’t want answers to’… because even if he’s the incarnate of evil, Sukuna will not lie. Liars are weak cowards who can’t get jobs done by being upfront. Sukuna isn’t afraid of what the truth is.

Your husband contemplates your question for a moment. He thinks about how disgusting that wannabe concubine was. He thinks about how you preoccupy his mind majority of the time. He thinks about the weird mix of feelings he has felt today in your absence.

“What I feel for you… is probably the closest to love that I’ll ever get.” Sukuna responds, carefully choosing his words. “You, my flower, are the only thing that keeps me grounded to the mortal plains.”

You give him the best smile you can muster despite the disappointment that you feel since he won’t tell you that he loves you. You suppose you have no one to blame other than yourself. Sukuna told you when he married you not to get your hopes up for love, but you still can’t help but crave that sort of affection from him.

“I don’t like seeing you upset, flower.” He speaks tenderly as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. “If I could, I’d snap my fingers and assure you that I love you whole heartedly. It just not in my genetic code.”

“I know… I’m grateful for your effort at least.” You murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck.

His arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest. He inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent that he enjoys so much. “Am I forgiven, woman?”

“Mmm, no.” You smile cheekily in his embrace, and Sukuna chuckles heartily.

“Oh? Is someone going to use this blunder to her advantage?” When you nod in his shoulder, Sukuna lays back against the soft pillowy grass. “That’s my girl. Go on. Make me work for your forgiveness.”

On a completely unrelated note, Sukuna had that harlot’s body mailed back to her father as a ‘thank you’ for sending a whore to his kingdom.

[geeky-nightphilosopher]

Bruce Wayne does get paranoid and panicky whenever one of his children gets sick or injured.

However, he also compartmentalizes to their specific need. And with the help from Alfred, they wrangle the children into one of the dens and help them relax to feel better.

Dick, Cass, Duke, and Steph are unashamed that they need their dad's comfort.

Tim is reluctant and eventually gives in.

Jason and Damian fight Bruce all the time. Most likely cursing him out. Bruce takes it all in stride and lays with them running his fingers through their hair, and as they fall asleep, they quietly beg him not to leave.

He doesn't.

No, the real frustration is; while Bruce is Batman, and his kids are all feeling under the weather. (Dick's at the Watchtower, too, not feeling well.)

Why is that frustrating?

Bruce has to sit there watching as his eldest is slowly fading - all without emotion. He watches as slowly Dick goes from being spontaneously, not paying attention, to him slowly making eye contact with his dad and making his way over to him just for the comfort. (Batman does enjoy how little the League notices until Dick is literally right next to him, head on the man's shoulder.)

The League, in turn, (Minus Clark and Diana,) is shocked seeing Nightwing so close to the Batman. Batman doesn't even blink.

And he doesn't blink at all when the meeting goes much longer and one by one the kids come, seeking their father because; "You promised you would be home and you aren't their and my throat is scratchy."

Thus, ends the meeting.

(Also, Jason gravitates towards Wonder Woman, and Damian and Dick will sometimes gravitate to Superman.)

[mayasaurusss]

Transfem Jackie in the wilderness??

The feeling of you.

Contents: female reader, transfeminine Jackie, angst and comfort, internalized guilt, detailed descriptions of feelings, exploring themes of transexuality, 3rd point of view from Jackie's prespective, vanilla smut, gentlia described vaguely. Not really thought plot.

Words count: 7k/ about 12 pages

Author's note: As you read, this is a transfeminine Jackie oneshot. I wanted to explore themes of self hatred in many ways. Since I am not transexual, I based myself on the expereince someone in my life had to describe various moments in this oneshot. If this might be offensive to anyone, please dm me so I can edit this work. This is the first time in an oneshot where I write full on smut. This might not be very 'sexy' then, so forgive me for that. This oneshot contains vanilla-ish sex, so it might not be everyone's cup of tea. Anon, I'm sorry for the several months long wait, but I wanted to be sure to write something in character for Jackie.

To make reading easier: the italics are charcaters thoughts. First half is from Jackie's 3rd pow and second half (from smut onwards) reader's 3rd pov.

Enjoy everyone!

When you joined the Yellowjackets soccer team, you didn't expect to fall heads over heels with its capitan, Jackie Taylor.

It was a rainy November afternoon when you joined. You had seen Jackie walk around school from time to time, but have never interacted with her this close, for all it was worth, you didn't even know she was the soccer team captain. You joined the team some months after your best friend Vanessa did; she had insisted that it was fun and it would build up your confidence. So, you have joined.

Vanessa had talked about your frail character with Jackie before you joined, telling her that you were insecure in your abilities, so, after the coach had tested you, Jackie choosed to assign you the substitute position of right winger. So, you wouldn't have had to play all the time.

Right before you got introduced to the team, Jackie had talked with you. A look of worry was visible in your eyes and Jackie, even if she didn't know you all that well yet, was slightly worried. For you maybe, yes, but also that you could potentially be more of a burden to the team, if you didn't do well enough. After all, Jackie needs to have as many competent people in her team as she can. You need to grow more confident.

So, she had taken you by the arm and led you to a secluded place right outside of the field's entrance. Jackie had looked up at you and smiled kindly, "Well, are you ready to go?". You had felt incredibly scared and apprehensive that day but when you felt Jackie's hand lightly touch yours, trying to get you out of your head, you felt safe, seen.

That was the first instance of your feelings blooming for Jackie. At every game, she did not ever forget to encourage and praise you for your actions. Even when you didn't perform well, you knew Jackie would always be there to make you feel better.

To her surprise, a year after having joined the team, you were almost a completely different person. Confident, strong and willing to stand up for herself and others. Jackie did have to admit that your change was more than welcome. She could never say it out loud, but whenever she saw you in the changing room, her heart skipped a beat. Of course, Jackie had to maintain her reputation at school.

No one, besides her parents and Shauna, knew that Jackie wasn't who others thought she was. Since she was a child, she had felt like she was missing a core part of herself. It was when she met Shauna that everything changed: with her, Jackie had confessed her worries and secrets and in exchange, got the help to finally become her true self. Her parents weren't as supportive as she thought they were going to be. Sometimes, she saw her mothers sending glances in her direction, which she couldn't decipher as worry or disdain; but she didn't care.

In an attempt to finally convey that image she built of herself, upon entering her new school alongside Shauna, she had seduced Jeff, one of the guys she found less ugly. She wasn't able to fully explore herself before jumping hand in hand with him in the relationship.

The first time and only time she and Jeff have had sex, she didn't dare to make him look. Somewhat, she managed to create an excuse to not strip and only get him off. It was a rather boring and disappointing night. But she hadn't left him, in a way Jackie still felt some kind of odd feeling when she was with him. She couldn't tell if it was love.

This is why she couldn't show herself shy when she was near you. She couldn't risk her image, people would talk if they saw her behaving in a flirtatious way towards you, and Jeff would leave. She knew he was probably cheating on her, but as of right now, she couldn't worry less.

Jackie feels her mind slipping out of consciousness time and time again. She can vaguely feel what is happening near her, bodies bumping on her shoulder and light dimming lower and lower until, behind her eyelids, she can only stare back at the darkness.

Shauna wakes her up, and she's not sure she's completely herself at this point. Her body moves before her mind can process what's happening and just mere seconds later, she falls hard to the forest floor. Just as her cheek comes into hard contact with the naked soil, her mind registers what's happening. Jackie looks behind herself to see something that shakes her to the core and will for the years to come. People, her teammates flooding away from the main entrance of the plane, all gushing out like droplets of the leftover alcohol of the red cup she had drank from last night, at their last party.

Jackie struggles to get back to her feet, her legs giving just as she gets up. Shauna is there, she holds her and runs her fingers on her face, tracing over the bruise that has begun to form. She searches for your face among the others and finds you clutching at your left leg, a scar running down your hips.

Jackie's eyes follow as Shauna gets back into the plane and a feeling of dread fills her heart. She knows that if she doesn't help Shauna, her best friend will die. When she enters into the crashed death trap smoke fills her lungs and her vision. She searches for Shauna, finding her fiddling with something behind her shoulders. For a second she considers slapping Shauna, telling her that she's an idiot and taking her back, but when she hears Vanessa's desperate sobs her brain is filled with fear and horror and something akin to bravery. Her hands brace on either side of the seats and summoning a bravery she didn't know she had, along with Shauna, Jackie manages to open a window of opportunity for Van to slip out. Once the fresh air fills her lungs again and her brain is awake, Jackie searches for you.

Misty had hastily put together various bandages that ran down the entirety of your leg, blood already seeping out and darkening the cloth. Jackie can't even register that she has you in a death grip until she feels your chest moving on hers in an attempt to get more air in your lungs.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- '' her words get cut off as you push into her, already wettering the neck of the blue and yellow jacket she wore. Your throat bobs and tears fall from your eyes ``I, I'm scared". Jackie holds you to her chest, sobs threatening to leave her body, "Me too".

The smell of fire and pine needles filled the air around you, the tall trees shielding your view of the night sky. Hours after the disaster, you were surprised to find yourself enjoying your teammates' jokes near the campfire. You would have expected to feel this happy in another situation, but there you were: laughing in the dark night with the corpses of your old friends already starting to decompose back into the deathtrap. Jackie had insisted on sitting near you along Shauna. She kept to herself, having to maintain that image of her authority. Maybe she could be the one aiding the team to take a stand against nature. But in the aftermath of saving Van she had let her selfishness surge again and had protested against her cleanser being used as a sanitizer. She didn't mean to, the words left her mouth before she could understand the gravity of the situation. This wasn't what she was prepared for, her mind wasn't prepared enough to survive, to see the lifeless bodies of her own friends burn and decompose under her eyes.

Jackie had gotten silent for some time and her mouth had tasted the tears that were threatening to fall, but when she had felt your touch linger on her hand, a feeling of calm panic had washed over her. Your eyes stared into hers, understanding, saying 'I feel you, I understand you' and her heart ached. The fear was still clawing at her heart but she tried to subdue it in favor of quietly looking at you, trying to breathe through the hurt. Unbeknownst to her, Shauna's envious eyes had watched the whole interaction with anger boiling over the surface.

That night, Jackie dreams. She dreams of the last game, the leather of the ball comes into hard contact with the white metal of the goal and bounces back away from her and the other team wins. She dreams of a world where she and Shauna are now in her room, sad and bitter, but not here. Not on a cold night. She dreams of a world where she comes back to Jeff, he comforts her by kissing her cheek and whispering sweet, fake nothings to her. She dreams of him finally admitting he cheated, of a world where after months of sadness and thought, she manages to confess the strange feelings she has whenever you're around. She dreams of your lips touching hers.

If only... if only she didn't score, maybe...maybe...

The morning had come by fast, a pale light shone down from the trees and greeted their painful awakening. Jakcie had fallen asleep the night prior cuddled between you and Shauna. All the team had cuddled closer during the night in an effort to maintain as much heat as possible. The soil was scattered with clothes, remaining junk food leftovers, branches and the mechanical remains of the plane. And when she woke up, Jackie had panicked. As quietly as possible she had begun to hyperventilate, the reality of the situation finally kicking in. In an effort to keep calm, to get comforted, Jackie hides her face into your chest and lets her tears fall freely. In your sleep, you cling onto her and for a split moment, her heart bursts out of her chest. It feels like her rib cage has suddenly tightened on her organs and her body has been set aflame. She couldn't feel like this. She shouldn't. And why with you of all people? Why you, and not Jeff? Why you, and not Shauna? What is in you that makes her poor heartache, even in the most desperates of situations? Nevertheless, Jackie allows herself to feel and falls right back asleep. Reality can wait for some time.

When the bodies had been buried and were beginning to dissolve into the earth, a heavy silence had weighted on the team shoulders. At least they could rest in peace, for the rest though only chaos was waiting. Jackie had never been so scared in her life. So, when Taissa shouted that she had seen a lake nearby, Jacki couldn't believe it. Or, more accurately, she was scared of leaving. What if the rescue team came just as they left? And what if they didn't find them? She couldn't afford to lead her team into another hazard. so, when almost all of the team agrees to go, Jackie feels betrayed. It's stupid and selfish but she does, especially when Shauna raises her hand in favor of leaving. Without too much thrust, Jackie follows. She steps away from Shauna and walks with you, helping you move your leg on the uneven forest floor.

When she spots the shore, a sense of wonder and happiness fills her for the first time in hours. With her help, you manage to speed up to the lake. There, a realization dawns on her. She hadn't told the others that she was 'different'. No one here except Shauna knew. What would they have thought of her? "Aren't you going in?" she heard your voice ask her. "Uh, I- I don't know..." she stammers out. Her eyes widen when she sees you changing out of your dirty clothes "Well, I'm going. Misty had said that the water might cleanse my wound, but she never talked about lake water" Jackie vaguely registered your response while her eyes were still trained on your figure. "I hope there aren't any germs there" you lose the branch that supported your uneven walk in favor of trying to get out of your pants.

"Hey Jackie... I know this is weird to ask, but can you help me out? I can't crouch low enough to pull them off" her heart skips a beat and almost automatically, she starts to undress you out of your pants. She's sure her cheeks are a bit more red than usual. "Ah, thank you. Are you sure you're not coming in?" she doesn't know, she isn't sure. But she so, so wants to be there with you. "Uh yeah just, just let me change and I'll be there".

Jackie's eyes follow as you dip into the water. Vaguely, she can feel her blood flow in her body faster than normal, but she dismisses it. When she nears on the shore, as quickly and as carefully as possible, Jackie strips out of her clothes and watches for any unwanted gaze. When the cold water crashes on her skin, her body begins to cool off and that thirst she felt has been quelled. Now she reaches you and guides you to deeper waters, careful to listen to any signs of discomfort from you.

That's how you spend the rest of the afternoon: splashing each other with water, resting on the rocky shores of the lake and gossipping. The everpresent eye of Shauna watching your every move. When Lottie had spotted something in the distance, everyone had been on the move, hoping to find a new shelter for the night. And they did. The cabin was decrepit. Its roof was slightly slanted, vines and vegetation covered the wooden walls; but it worked. It could work. When she entered, a smell of mold and old plants had hit her nose. She found a can of green beans and when attempting to open it, her hunger preceding the thought that maybe she could have preserved it, she was greeted with the sight of many greenish beans swimming in a gray pool of liquid.

On the other side of the room, some of the girls are checking out one of those old sex magazines. Natalie calls out to you "Hey look, this girl kinda looks like you" and right then and there, Jackie crumbles. "Nah, she doesn't look like me! You have a shitty sight Scatorccio '' the team's eyes all gather to one point in the page, some let out whistles while others comment on it. "So, are you like this gentlelady under your clothes?" Van jokingly teases you "Guess you'll have to discover it yourself". Despite thinking she's above this, Jackie steals a glance as she walks out. And it's true, that woman did look like you, despite some differences. And now, Jackie has to deal with yet another problem.

She feels her body shift without her wanting to and heat spreads through her lower abdomen, begging to be put out. She walks out of the door fast and follows a trail behind the cabin. There, she tries to calm down but to no avail, images of you fill her mind and she feels her shorts tighten. Jackie lets out a grunt of discomfort: the situation wasn't exactly the most comfortable one to 'rub one out'. She looks back at the cabin, it's far but still in view: maybe here she can take care of herself with no prying eyes watching.

Jackie slips out of her shorts and starts to palm at her length. She tries to think about Jeff, about Shauna, even about her celebrity crushes, but nothing works. Everything morphs into you. So, when she finally gives up and allows herself to fall into your image, she finds that her body is already at the brink of release. She feels your hands stroking her skin, the tension releases out of her shoulders and your voice whispers reassurances in her ear. "Let it go" and she falls from her high, her legs give out and the skin meets the hard ground. Her gaze falls to her hand. Oh god, what have I done?

The afternoon lights had started to shine through the trees. After taking care of her little problem, Jackie had come back and sat on the wooden porch at the side of the cabin. This can't be real. It can't, right? Her heart aches far more than she realized. She doesn't belong here. She is angry, sad and terrified. This isn't real.

Regret, both for the plane crash and for what she had just done. Did she really jerk off to a friend in the middle of the forest, right after what happened? God, how could she be so disgusting? So careless? People died and all she could think about was fulfilling her own needs. Like always Jackie, you always have to be the center of attention. You couldn't even let your teammates have a peaceful rest, you just had to think about yourself huh? Can you even feel something, anything for others? Do you have anyone else in your mind except yourself?This just shows the utter scum of a person you really are. You waste.

Back at home, everyone always counted on her. She was the voice of reason, the one person who could bring different people together under one team. She had been the one to create the Yellowjackets, to care for them, to nourish them. She knew she was selfish, selfish and stupid, but she really tried. Jackie didn't mean to be this much of a fucking liability, but she couldn't help it. This place, these people, did they even think of her as an equal? Or did most of them fake their appreciation for her? She didn't mean to be a bother, trying to fix the old music player instead of doing the chores, but she needed desperately to not think. Please, for the love of God, get me out of here.

Days, months have passed and winter starts to tighten its cold hands on the Yellowjackets. All of them know. When winter comes, they might die. Every night, the last breeze of autumn comes knocking on the door in the form of the Grim Reaper, begging to be let in. To join the fun. For how much their determination is worth, nature has a sick way of playing with its prey.

They don't have to think.

That's why Jackie had hosted a seance in summer, to distract them. And that's why she decides to host a Doom Coming. Death is already at the door, so why not having fun in the last few weeks of their lives? And her life is just a mess. Jackie feels as if all of the world's faults weigh down on her shoulders. She's sad, bitter and angry: sad for Laura Lee and her unfair death, bitter at Shauna and Jeff, and angry at the world.

Finally, night has fallen. The sun is lowering down the horizon, the cold air nipping at the skin, but she tried to ignore it. The camp smells of leaves, fire and earth. It's almost calming. Laughs and wind and fire crackling fill her ears. Jackie sits on a log which acts as a stool and closes her eyes.

Right now, when everyone is partying, she allows herself to be vulnerable. In the months following the summer, Jackie had come to care less and less about what others might have thought about her if her secret came to be known. So her facade had finally started to crumble.

Jackie sat on the log, her legs spreading far apart, her back hunched and with her face in her hands. She knew the others would look at her and make fun or feel sorry for her, but right now she didn't care too much. A quiet whine left her body and trickles of tears staining her cheeks. Something moves at her right side and she jumps up to see you holding two makeshift wooden bowls. "Hey, thought of giving you this. You haven't eaten at all".

Maybe she doesn't want to. Maybe Jackie would rather die, her body to be eaten by the people she loved most and then dissolve into the earth, broken apart by nature and scattered like a constellation. "I... I am fine" she mutters into her hands, trying to mask her sobs.

"But you're not Jackie. You're so not fine; don't you think I can see that?" she's taken aback by your teary eyes burning a hole through her heart. You push the tears back in and hand her the warm bowl of soup. "I am scared too, Jackie. We all are. But at least, just before the end...won't you try to be happy?" and you know that asking her this is stupid and pathetic, but you too need to push reality away. And Jackie doesn't have enough strength to deny you. "...You're right", she takes the makeshift wooden spoon and dips it into the brownish soup. She lets the earthy flavors fill her mouth. "This isn't half as bad as I thought it would be'' Jackie smiles as she sets the bowl down. A giggle leaves your lips as you stand up, your legs feel wobbly and your skin starts to feel uncomfortably hot. "Say... you wouldn't want to have... a dance with me, would you?" words slurred, you try to pry Jackie out of her log and she happily complies.

Jackie feels strange. She isn't in total control of her body, her mind is foggy, her body moves slowly and lazily. She looks at you with lovey dovey eyes, as if you are a goddess on earth who came to relieve her of her pain. She doesn't even care that Mari's and Alikah's eyes are on both of you; as of right now Jackie only sees you. But now her mind is playing tricks on her: she sees you on her bed, naked.

"W-what?" and now that discomfort is back again, twirling inside of her stomach. "What is it?" Jackie can only feel her body stiffen once again, swaying 'Uhhh shit'. "I- I, don't worry!" but you insist with that look on your face that she can't resist. "What? What is it? Are you feeling ill?".

Shit!. "N-no I-" it's almost like her brain can't form any coherent thought anymore. Why? Why now?!, you get closer to her, an inch from her ear "Do you need something?" God damn it. "I need to- I need-" Jackie stops dead in her tracks as she feels your leg accidentally pressing on her groin. Shit! No! No, no, no! Why?! What is wrong with you?

You look down to see something puffing under her dress. What the heck was she hiding there?. It takes you a moment to understand what it really is, and when you do, you let out a small 'ohh' of understanding.

"Do you have something to tell me?" and Jackie feels embarrassed: embarrassed, guilty and disgusting. How could she have those kinds of thoughts for a friend? She's no better than Jeff, she's no better than them. "I am so, so, so sorry please, please I' didn't mean to-' ' you cut off Jackie with a shush, take her hand into yours and guide her in the forest.

You lead Jackie through low tree branches and vines, through bushes and dirt until you stumble in a beautiful clearing. Hidden between the thick branches of the pine trees, away from the cabin, the uneven forest floor becomes flat, the trees give away to green grass and moss and flowers. On the way, Jackie had noticed strange scrapes on the trees, like a knife had cut through the bark.

"This is where I come when I'm overwhelmed. I found it while having lost myself after going to get the water. You remember that day I didn't come to the cabin after dark?" Jackie nods, waiting for your voice again "I actually had been walking on circles, some feets away from the cabin I took the wrong turn and ended up in the wrong place, here." From your pocket, you fish out a small cutting knife, an old candle and a couple of matches you had stolen from Dead Guy's stash. "Luckily, I had this with me" you gesture to the knife, "If I hadn't, I'm not sure I could have come back". You let your things fall to the base of a tree, forgotten. "So," you say as you sit down and pat the ground next to you "mind explaining what that was?".

Jackie feels as if her blood had become ice cold; she's terrified, so much so that she's stiff and can't bring herself to sit near you. "Come here" she awkwardly lets herself lay on the ground with her legs tucked under her body and away from you.

"I- I am..." throat closing in on her words, she takes a breath and gathers all the courage she has left in her heart "I wasn't happy once. Before. I didn't realized it once, Shauna helped me understand. Sometimes I faked begin happy just to see the people near me happy. To see my parents happy. But once I started to put my own happiness before, I understood". Jackie feels as if a block of ice got stuck in her throat and it's preventing her from speaking clearly.

"For the time we have left, I will continue begin myself. I- I don't care what others think of me" and maybe that last part was a lie, maybe she does care. Every human need reassurance. But when she says that, she's looking directly into your eyes, with determination. A smile graces your lips and Jackie feels as if she has died for a moment and her soul reached heaven "I understand you" which is far better than any 'okays or 'alright's she has gotten so far. "Y-you do? I thought, I thought you would be... grossed out", silence fills the air and Jackie's breath hitches, waiting for the final blow at her heart. "You could never 'gross me out' Jackie, why did you even thought about that?"

"I really thought that you might-" Jackie's words die engulfed in your arm, her head cradled on you, "You are safe with me". Something in her, a cage, breaks into million shining pieces and lets her heart beat red blood into her flesh. Jackie feels as if the old cruel world broke and left space for a new, shining future, one she shares with you. She weeps into your shoulder, finally understood, happy, euphoric, free from her own self and from the world's expectations.

You let her weep into you for some time, the sky's color changes from the purple and orange evening glow to a light cobalt, the stars already starting to show.

"Now, I want to ask you something else..." your cheeks feel suddenly hotter, thighs closing in on themselves. Jackie listens to you, and you're suddenly very interested on your hands. "That... thing that happened back there... why? Why did it happen while we were dancing?". Ohh shiiit.

Jackie feels sick. A ball of nausea forms in the deepest parts of her stomach and reaches out to her mouth. For a second, she feels like she will throw up. "Oh gosh, I'm so sorry I forgot, I-" and now, emotions and feelings of the past months come crashing down on her heart. And when she parts her lips, it is too late to stop.

"I... like you. I do. I've felt like this for a while now. Back there I don't- I don't know why I felt like that and why it happened, but t-that's not like me at all! I- I am-" but the silence that follows is enough for Jackie to stop. Right then and there, she knows she has lost you. "I should probably go..." she says to you; Jackie's muscles move to follow her torso but your arms hug her shoulders before she can escape you. For a moment she's confused and almost thinks an animal might have tackled her to the ground, but when she feels your touch on her cheeks, peace fills her heart. You lightly trace her small skin marks under her eyes and lean down to kiss her. In her eyes billions of stars shine and in her heart, billions of stars explode. Her body is lighter, almost made of condensed air. It almost feels like a sin when she touches your hand: like if her fingertips could dirty the beautiful soul in front of her. "I want you too" you say to her, a whisper. Now she truly is gone.

Jackie kisses you back with a passion you didn't know she had in her. Everything is forgotten: the dirt of the soil, the rotten cabin, the looks of the others, the touches of Jeff, the desire for Shauna, the desire to run from the world. Here and now, Jackie is at peace. Finally at peace, after months of hardship. Her heart beats and her blood runs, and she's happy. So, so very happy.

When you leave the kiss, Jackie feels lightheaded. A dark feeling inside of her screams to stay, to take, to devour. She takes you right back into her arms, clinging to you so hard that you're sure your bones will snap. The kiss becomes raw, hungry and dangerous; all lips and tongue and teeth. Her hand cradles the back of your head and with the free hand, she claws at your shirt. There is a feeling blooming inside her groin and stomach; she wants to devour and be devoured. You get rid of your clothes and discard them aside. Now Jackie can see you in all your beauty, skin shaded by the blue evening night.

It's getting dark.

"Maybe, maybe we shouldn't..." Jackie whispers in your mouth but makes no effort to stop. Your hands find her soft skin, you cradle her head upwards facing you, "Let morning come". Your hands find Jackie's skin underneath her dress and her breath stops, she tries to gulp down air in her lungs but they feel tight. Your hands are just so soft and she feels so good, so right here with you. For the first time in a while, she doesn't have to be in charge of anything. For the first time, she can be her whole, broken self without needing to be something she's not. With a trembling voice, Jackie asks you to help her out of her dress. The cold air hits Jackie all at once, making her shiver but she is too caught up in you to care. As soon as the dress is off her hands are already on your skin, touching wherever they could. "I- I want to..." but she couldn't find in herself the strength to say what she wanted, needed to do. Instead, Jackie decided to crash her lips into yours again and rest her hand on your back, atop the clasps of your bra, a silent request. The dizziness of before had almost worn off by the time you were bare before her. A breathy sigh left Jackie's lips "Wowza...", you couldn't help but let out a giggle "Really? 'Wowza'?".

"What?! I couldn't help it..." her words trail off when her gaze falls to your chest. Fingers come down on you, caressing and touching and groping at every inch of skin she finds. She props you up on her lap, trying to relive the pain of her hardness starting to show. It's almost embarrassing how desperate she is, her cheeks are flushed red, her eyes unfocused and watery. Jackie's lips circle your nipple, biting and licking and sucking and tugging at your skin. Jackie's length gets harder and hard by the minute, for every time her name falls off your lips. All the uncomfortable and guilt has gone, leaving behind something dark and primal. She starts to hump on your ass while continuing to suck on you. "Oh, I see someone is eager" and all that confidence she had goes right out of the window, her sober self comes out more embarrassed than before "Oh- gosh I'm-I am sor-" but she is shut down by your grinding down on her. "Who said you could lead tonight?".

Oh shit I'm so into this.

"N-no one..." her voice came out shaking with excitement, the prospect of the night and all the scenarios playing out in her head.

"That's right, you deserve a break" not as sexy as she would have wanted, but this is fine too. More than fine. She was tired of feigning leadership. Your hands fiddle with the waistband of her underwear, feeling around the skin of her waist. This feels like a torture to Jackie. "Please, I-..." she meets your hands and tries to grind into you. As teasing as ever, your touch skims right on her thighs, squeezing and stroking her skin. "Tsk, I thought you wanted to be taken care of. Maybe I should stop?".

"N-no! No, please I will be good I promise". Jackie settles back against the earth, her puppy eyes looking up at you with the fear that you won't touch her anymore. "That's what I wanted to hear". Finally your fingers dip under her waistband and pull, freeing her after what felt like an eternity. Now, the both of you are bare against each other. "What do you want me to do, Jackie?" after some thought, Jackie says, "I... I want to taste you... Please....".

Now you take her place, laying down on the earth. Jackie watches you with adoration while her fingers start to travel downwards. Her fingers part your legs and she kisses the skin of your thighs, just mere inches away from where you need her the most. You whisper her name, wanting her to get on with it, to please you. At that, Jackie dips into you. After months of desire, it feels like heaven on earth. Her fingers tease your clit, circling it multiple times before moving down. But you're not prepared enough for the intrusion. So, Jackie starts to suck on you. She's so attentive and shy it makes you want to cry. You ground on her face and hear her letting out a whimper, she's getting pleasure from this too. When you are wet enough, Jackie's ring finger teases your opening and enters. You have already done this before, but it pales in comparison on how Jackie is making you feel. Almost like a shock running through your body and a wildfire spreading in your limbs. And you are sure that if Jackie continues, you will combust on the spot. Finger flicking your nipples, tongue occasionally joins her fingers to lick up your slit, eyes always fixated on your face twisted in pleasure. You look under her to see her free hand stroking her length quickly, white wetness dripping from it. "I- I am about to..." but your words die in your throat. When Jackie comes up again, the lower part of her face is covered in your release, she's still stroking herself. "Please, please I need it, I need it" she continued as she came closer to you. "What do you need Jackie?" she whimpers, desperately humping into her hand "y-you please. Your... mouth".

You smile at her, reaching to tease her length but just a few movements of your hand are enough to send her over the edge. Jackie gasps when she comes undone, her hands tightening over your shoulder. "O-Oh God I, I usually last way more than this..." you snort at her, "Hm? Way more?". Her brows are furrowed, cheeks red with embarrassment "...ok, a bit more". You decide to stop teasing her and reach down, sucking the last drops of her release. Her moans encourage you to get on top of her, legs straddling her hips on both sides. Slowly, you began grinding down on her.

"Oh... I like this'' Jackie moans in your mouth, hands exploring every inch of your skin. After what feels like an eternity, you line up Jackie's lengt with your slit, sliding it from under you on purpose and meeting her hips. "Please... stop teasing..." she lets out a grunt, her hands rest steady on your hips and she begins to drag you down on her. You like this double sided version of Jackie. All her dominance goes straight out of the window when she enters you. It takes an unholy amount of strength for Jackie to not start pounding in you, and to keep herself from coming too fast. She pants as if she's shoulder deep inside a pool of cold water, shaky. It's the first time she has reacted this way to having sex. Usually, she could keep a cool, passionate demeanor but she's so excited to do this with you. It feels different from any other casual sex encounters she had.

You still above her. She has reached the deepest point she could, cuddled between dark and hot and wet. It feels too much to you and you rest your head on her shoulders, trying to catch your breath. She is so delicate with you, whispering sweet encouragements on how -"you take me so well", "You can do it" and "I like you so, so much"-. You're the one that starts to move, surprising Jackie who was still in the middle of her praise. Her breath hitches when she feels you move on her, slowly and methodically taking her to the tip and all the way back. This is perfect.

You rest your hands on her shoulder and hers rest on your hips, guiding you back and forth on her. The grip is tight enough that you can feel your skin bruise under her touch. "Fas-faster please..." you try to comply, bouncing on her faster than before, but your legs feel wobbly and uncertain. When she sees that you can't go any faster, Jackie trusts up into you and meets your hips with force, bouncing you up and down. "I-I'm sorry I' can't go slower..." it feels so good you can't really complain about it. Now you have regained enough strength to meet Jackie halfway, both of you lost in a frenzy of pleasure. She's loud, almost yelling and in the back of your mind, you are terrified someone might come and take a look, but another part of you is thrilled at the prospect of begin found out. You are a bit shocked when Jackie's hand comes down on your ass, but you don't complain. If someone walked past you, they would immediately understand what was happening.

The only sounds that can be heard in the forest are your whimpers, moans, the slapping of skin, wind and chirping and, a little farther, yelling and rabid howls of creatures that resemble humans. But that is not important right now. Your minds are too lost in pleasure to think that, in the dark corners of the night, something could wait for the chance to pounce on you.

Jackie starts to move faster than you can keep up. She moves so you lay your back against the dirt and face her. She brings your leg up and opens the space between your thighs more, allowing herself easier access. She begins to pound into you, faster and harder and sloppier than before. She has no rhythm left, no care, only pleasure and the need to relieve both herself and you in her mind. She grabs your leg hard, not letting go in fear that if she does, you might vanish into thin air. "I am close, I am gonna-" she doesn't want to cum, not right now: this moment should last forever. But she can't hold herself back anymore.

From the dark, a pair of brown eyes had spied on the both of you. Shauna was hungry and her hunger was so grand that it made her vision, her brain and the world around her blurry. She was chasing Travis, along the others but had been left behind when she heard sounds coming from behind some bushes. Her mouth had watered thinking it could be an animal but she got let down when she realized the sounds were coming from you. Her initial shock had been replaced by annoyance. She had so hoped to get something beneath her teeth, but to no avail. Then, hate had bubbled its way through her veins and into her heart. She hated you at that moment. The both of you. Shauna couldn't understand if she wanted to be with Jackie or in between you two. Sure, she thought of Jackie before, during the night hours but she hadn't dared to make the first move. And then, when Jackie had gotten with Jeff, she was hellbent on having all of her. She did realize that there was something sparking between the two of you after the first few games, but she kept quiet. She imagined herself, between bodies. Skin and sweat and kisses. She thought of taking Jackie's while kissing you, of guiding your head down, of bending Jackie over and-. Her stomach growled. It was loud enough she could clearly hear it, but not enough for you two to get suspicious of anything. That fantasy of hers would never happen. She retreated back into the dark.

Jackie is moving fast against you, hips slapping repeatedly up on yours and hands reaching every little bit of skin she can. From deep inside her groin, she feels something snap. She's not gentle with you anymore. Something raw and angry has taken control over her brain. Jackie slipped out of you and snuck behind, her arm lifting up your leg before entering once again. In this position she can reach deeper and move faster. She's being too hard on you. A scowl appears on her face when you try to slow her down by slipping from her grasp, "You- you will, you will stay here a-and take-" growling, her fingers grip at your flesh again, harder this time.

A knot snaps inside your guts and without managing to yell a warning, you release on Jackie's. She feels you dripping down on her. Your coming prompts her to do the same: Jackie gives a final long and hard thrust and leaves you empty, releasing on the soil.

She falls on top of you, spent "O-oh wowza. That... that felt amazing". You laugh at her "Again, 'wowza'?! It's not sexy Jackie" she mumbled something back at you and then hid her face in the crook of your neck. You're silent, now left with the remnants of your lovemaking and the constant presence of death looming over you. A faint trace of cold is coming out of the earth and down on you. "What do we do now?" she asks, embracing and shivering against you "Did- did we do something bad? What's gonna happen now? We will all still die-" her voice hitches. She's crying: tears fall down your skin as she nuzzles on it. You take her hand, tracing patterns on it, "We will manage".

Days later, when Jackie finally confronts Shauna, secrets get spilled. Of affairs, of grudges that lasted years, even of your lovemaking with Jackie. She had stormed out of the cabin: just like she feared, everyone had turned on her. Jackie watches the fire, cold seeping in her bones and her mind getting groggy. Shauna walks to Jackie, hand embracing her best friend's back. "Come inside" you say, your features and voice replacing Shauna's. In the back of her mind Jackie wants to preserve her dignity: walking back into the house would mean to admit that she had lost the argument; but staying out here could kill her. Jackie follows you, gripping at your arm tightly. Everyone is asleep; you lead her to rest on one open spot near the fire, finally hugging her cold body to yours. "Rest easy" and she doesn't need to be told twice, falling asleep right away in your arms. Next morning, it was snowing.

[thebunnednun]

In the Arms of a Stranger Charlotte Katakuri x Bride! Reader (Part 1)

He's been popping up on my timeline for a while so I think that means he's getting a series. Pretend he's younger, or don't.

This is gonna be a long one folks.

Spolier: Reader ate the "Kage Kage no Mi" fruit.

Summary:

Kidnapped from the safety of your Straw Hat family and drugged into a forced marriage as a cruel act of revenge by Big Mom, you find yourself in a luxurious yet suffocating room with Charlotte Katakuri, the formidable son of your captor. Fear and desperation grip your heart, but amidst the terror, an unexpected truce begins to form.

As Katakuri reveals his own discomfort with the marriage and vows to protect you, a fragile bond develops. Together, you navigate the tension and uncertainty, finding solace in each other's presence.

In the midst of vulnerability and shared fears, even in the darkest times, unexpected comfort and trust can emerge.

Now, on with the show!!~

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The opulent grand hall reverberated with the lively chatter of guests and the melodious clinking of glasses, creating an atmosphere of celebration and merriment. However, amidst the splendor, [Name] couldn't shake off the overwhelming sense of displacement.

Her thoughts continuously gravitated back to her beloved Straw Hat family, from whom she had been abruptly separated due to this arranged marriage. All you could remember was being stolen in the night and being presented before a large pink woman.

The entire ceremony had unfolded like a hazy dream, and now, as the night descended, it marked the beginning of their wedding night.

Your knowledge of Charlotte Katakuri, your enigmatic new husband, was shrouded in intimidating rumors, leaving you feeling apprehensive.

'Fucking shit.'

The heavy oak door to their lavishly adorned chamber clicked shut behind you, the sound echoing ominously in the vast space. Silence descended like a suffocating blanket, pressing down on you with palpable weight. Your breath caught in your throat as you stood in the center of opulence, surrounded by the extravagant display of wealth.

The room exuded grandeur at every turn—the king-sized bed, adorned with layers of sumptuous silk, beckoned invitingly, yet it felt more like a throne of isolation than a place of rest. Ornate furniture, carved with intricate designs, adorned the spacious chamber, each piece a testament to extravagance. The soft glow of the dimly lit chandeliers cast ethereal shadows across the room, adding to the surreal atmosphere.

But amidst the splendor, there was a profound sense of unease, a feeling of being ensnared in a gilded cage. Despite the luxurious trappings, the room felt suffocating, each embellishment serving as a reminder of the confinement you found yourself in. The air seemed heavy with unspoken tension, and the silence seemed to magnify your solitude.

Your gaze flitted around the room, seeking solace in its lavish décor, but finding none. Every corner seemed to echo with a sense of captivity, each ornamental detail serving as a stark contrast to the freedom you longed for. Your heart ached with longing, yearning for the warmth and familiarity of your Straw Hat family, where safety and love awaited.

In this ostentatious chamber, you felt like a trapped bird, yearning to spread your wings and soar back to where you belonged. The opulence that surrounded you only served to emphasize the stark reality of your confinement, amplifying your desire to break free from this golden prison and return to the embrace of those who cherished you most.

In a moment of sheer panic, you found yourself drawn to the large bed dominating the center of the room. Instinct took over as you dropped to your knees, your movements frantic and unthinking. With trembling hands, you crawled beneath the bed, seeking refuge in the shadowy space beneath its expanse. The rapid thudding of your heart reverberated in your ears, a deafening drumbeat of fear that seemed to echo through the room.

As you huddled beneath the bed, your breaths came in shallow gasps, each inhale feeling like a struggle against the weight of impending doom. The confined space offered little solace, but you clung to it desperately, your body curling into a tight ball as if seeking protection from the encroaching darkness.

In the dimness beneath the bed, the world outside seemed distant and unreal, as if you had retreated into a realm of your own making. The shadows enveloped you like a comforting cloak, shielding you from the harsh reality that lurked beyond the confines of your hiding place.

Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, the urgency of the situation pressing down on you like a heavyweight. You couldn't stay here, couldn't bear the thought of what awaited you on this dreaded night. Your only thought was to find your friends, to seek refuge in the familiar embrace of the Straw Hat crew.

But for now, beneath the bed, you allowed yourself a moment of respite, a brief reprieve from the chaos that surrounded you. The stale air hung heavy in your lungs, but you welcomed it, using the precious moments of solitude to gather your thoughts and steel yourself for the challenges that lay ahead.

In the suffocating stillness of the room, time seemed to lose all meaning, stretching out into an endless expanse of silence. Every creak of the floorboards, every whisper of the wind outside, seemed magnified, as if the very air itself held its breath in anticipation. The weight of the mansion pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket, its oppressive atmosphere adding to the unbearable tension that hung in the air.

And then, like a harbinger of impending doom, you heard the door creak open, the sound slicing through the silence like a knife. Your entire body tensed, muscles coiling with apprehension as your breath caught in your throat, the air thick with trepidation.

With each heavy footstep, Katakuri drew closer, his presence a looming specter in the darkness. The sound of his boots on the plush carpet sent vibrations rippling through the floor, each thud reverberating through your bones and echoing the pounding of your heart. Every nerve in your body screamed for you to flee, to escape the approaching danger, but you remained frozen in place, paralyzed by fear.

Closing your eyes tightly, you prayed fervently that he wouldn't notice you, that you could remain hidden in the shadows beneath the bed. The darkness offered scant protection, but it was all you had, a thin veil of concealment against the looming threat that lurked just beyond your hiding place. As Katakuri's footsteps drew nearer, you clung to the desperate hope that somehow, against all odds, you would remain undetected.

'Please, just go away. Don’t look under the bed. Please.'

As Katakuri's heavy footsteps halted mere inches from the edge of the bed, a tangible sense of dread settled over you like a suffocating shroud. His presence loomed over you, a looming shadow of menace that seemed to envelop the room in a cloak of darkness. The air grew thick with tension, each breath you took feeling like a struggle against the oppressive weight of fear that pressed down upon you.

Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as you held your breath, every second feeling like an eternity as you waited in agonizing anticipation. And then, mercifully, the footsteps receded, their retreat a faint echo in the silence that followed. The sound of water running in the adjacent bathroom filled the room, a stark contrast to the stillness that had preceded it. Relief washed over you in a shaky exhale, but beneath the surface, the gnawing fear persisted, a constant reminder of the danger that lurked just beyond your reach.

'This is my chance,' you thought, determination flickering in the depths of your eyes as you seized upon the opportunity before you. With a surge of adrenaline, you scrambled out from under the bed, your movements swift and urgent as you surveyed your surroundings for any sign of escape. Your heart sank as you realized the door was securely locked, a barrier that stood between you and freedom.

'No, no, no!' The panic threatened to overwhelm you, but amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a glimmer of hope emerged. You remembered your Devil Fruit powers, a latent ability that held the key to your salvation. With a fierce focus, you channeled your energy, merging with the shadows that danced along the edges of the room. The sensation was eerie, like slipping into a cold, dark void, but you clung to it desperately, knowing it was your only chance at escape.

Invisible to the naked eye, you slipped through the crack beneath the bedroom door, your movements silent and swift as you navigated the dimly lit hallway beyond. Your heart pounded in your chest as you caught sight of Charlotte Opera, his figure looming ominously in the distance, a dagger glinting menacingly under the harsh glow of the overhead lights.

'Perfect,' you thought grimly, steeling yourself for the perilous journey that lay ahead. With determination coursing through your veins, you set off into the unknown, every step a testament to your unwavering resolve to reclaim your freedom at any cost.

As you moved stealthily through the labyrinthine corridors of the mansion, every step careful and calculated, your heart pounded in your ears like a thunderous drumbeat. The oppressive silence of the night was broken only by the faint sound of your own breathing, each inhale and exhale amplified by the tension that hung thick in the air. Every corner you turned seemed to hold the promise of danger, every shadow concealing a potential threat.

With practiced ease, you closed the distance between yourself and Opera, your movements fluid and silent as you closed in on your target. In a swift, decisive motion, you snatched the dagger from his grasp, the cold metal of the blade sending a shiver of anticipation coursing through your veins. It was a small victory, but in the face of the looming danger that surrounded you, it felt like a lifeline—a tangible symbol of your determination to fight back against the forces that sought to hold you captive.

Retreating back into the safety of the shadows, you clung to the dagger tightly, the weight of it comforting in your hand. It was a small but significant tool of defense, a reminder that you were not powerless in the face of adversity. With renewed resolve, you prepared yourself for the ordeal that lay ahead, steeling yourself for whatever challenges awaited you.

As the sound of the shower ceased and the lights in the bedroom dimmed, plunging the room into an even deeper darkness, your heart rate spiked once more. The tension in the air was palpable, each moment stretching out into an agonizing eternity as you resumed your hiding spot beneath the bed. Holding your breath, you braced yourself for whatever might come next, your mind racing with frantic thoughts as you prepared to confront the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

'Now I have the advantage but how do I get out of this?'

As you lay hidden beneath the bed, your mind raced with frantic thoughts, each one more terrifying than the last. The weight of the dagger in your hand offered little solace as you grappled with the overwhelming fear of the unknown. How would you escape this predicament? What awaited you beyond the confines of this ominous mansion? The uncertainty gnawed at your insides, leaving you feeling small and powerless in the face of the looming threat.

Before you could formulate a plan of action, the bathroom door swung open with a sinister creak, unleashing a wave of hot steam into the room. Through the swirling mist, you caught a glimpse of Katakuri's towering figure, his presence like a malevolent shadow in the darkness. The air seemed to thicken with dread as his cold, unyielding gaze pierced through the haze, fixating on you with chilling intensity.

And then, in an instant, the shadows were banished by a blinding light that seared through the fog, illuminating you in its merciless glare. The stark contrast between light and darkness rendered you vulnerable, exposed to the full force of Katakuri's unwavering scrutiny. Panic surged through you like a primal instinct as his eyes bore into yours, stripping away any semblance of safety or sanctuary.

Before you could react, his hand closed around your wrist with a bone-crushing grip, dragging you unceremoniously out from your hiding place beneath the bed. The sensation was like being ensnared by a predator, helpless against the inexorable force of his advance. With each heartbeat, the reality of your predicament sank in, filling you with a visceral terror so profound it threatened to consume you whole.

"No, no, no!" The words escaped your lips in a frantic whisper, a desperate plea for escape that fell on deaf ears. In the face of Katakuri's relentless advance, you were overwhelmed by a sense of dread so potent it bordered on madness. As he loomed over you, a silent harbinger of doom, you were plunged into the depths of a nightmare from which there seemed to be no waking.

As you struggled against Katakuri's iron grip, fear surged through your veins like a torrential wave, threatening to drown you in its icy embrace. With a surge of desperation, you plunged the dagger into his wrist, a desperate bid for freedom born of sheer instinct. He grunted in pain, his reaction more annoyance than true agony, but it was enough to momentarily loosen his hold on you.

With a gasp of relief, you tumbled onto the bed, your heart pounding in your chest like a frantic drumbeat. Scrambling away, you fought to put as much distance between yourself and your assailant as possible, your movements frantic and uncoordinated. But your escape was short-lived, and you soon found yourself falling off the other side of the bed, landing with a jarring thud on the cold, unforgiving floor below.

As you lay there, your mind a whirlwind of fear and confusion, a thousand thoughts raced through your head in rapid succession. "I hurt him. What now? Will he kill me?" The questions echoed in your mind like a relentless refrain, each one more terrifying than the last. The cold floor pressed against your back, grounding you in the harsh reality of your situation as you struggled to catch your breath, your chest heaving with the effort.

Amidst the chaos of your thoughts, a fierce determination took hold, driving you forward in spite of the overwhelming fear that threatened to consume you. "I can't let him catch me. I have to survive this. I have to get back to my family." The words rang out in your mind with a clarity that cut through the suffocating haze of terror, fueling your resolve with a newfound strength.

Though the fear was almost paralyzing, the thought of your Straw Hat family served as a beacon of hope in the darkness, a reminder of the bonds that tethered you to the world beyond this nightmare. With each breath, you drew upon that strength, channeling it into a desperate bid for survival as you faced the terrifying unknown that lay ahead.

As you lay on the floor, your body trembling with adrenaline, the sound of Katakuri's approach sent shivers down your spine, his silent footsteps amplifying your terror. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, your senses heightened to a fever pitch as you struggled to control your racing heart.

'He's coming. What do I do? Think, [Name], think!'

The suspense was suffocating, the air thick with tension, as you fought to steady your breathing against the overwhelming fear that threatened to consume you.

With each step he took, the weight of his presence bore down on you like a suffocating blanket, leaving you gasping for air as if the very atmosphere had turned against you.

'I can't stay here. I can't let him catch me again.'

The thought echoed in your mind with a sense of urgency, driving you to action even as panic threatened to overwhelm your senses.

As Katakuri's shadow fell over you, his form looming ominously in the dim light of the chandelier, you felt a primal instinct kick in, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins. His eyes, cold and unreadable, seemed to pierce through the darkness, fixing you in place with their unyielding gaze. Your heart hammered in your chest, thoughts whirling in a frantic blur as you braced yourself for whatever came next.

'This is it. This is my only chance.'

With fear coursing through your veins, you struggled against Katakuri, desperation lending strength to your movements. In a desperate move, you slashed at him again with the dagger, hoping to fend off the looming threat that hung over you like a shadow. But Katakuri's response was swift and merciless; with a single, precise motion, he knocked the dagger out of your hands, sending it clattering to the floor, far out of reach.

Desperation filled your eyes as you whispered into the cold night air,

"Please, don't touch me!"

The world seemed to stop at this notion. Your words hung in the air, fragile and trembling, a desperate request for mercy in the face of overwhelming fear. The room fell silent, the weight of your plea echoing in the stillness as you awaited his response.

For a fleeting moment, Katakuri's intense gaze softened, his resolve faltering in the face of your vulnerability. Slowly, he pulled himself back, giving you the space you so desperately craved. You lay there, still clad in your wedding dress, a poignant reminder of the night's cruel irony. Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling over as you squeezed them shut, your body wracked with silent sobs.

In that moment of vulnerability, you were acutely aware of the fragility of your existence, a pawn in a game far beyond your control. The weight of the night's events bore down on you like a crushing weight, threatening to engulf you in darkness. Amidst the despair, a flicker of hope remained, a small ember of resilience burning brightly within you. You would endure this trial, you would survive, and you would emerge stronger on the other side.

But right now you really just needed to have a healthy cry.

Katakuri's massive form crouched down before you with surprising gentleness, his imposing stature momentarily softened by the tenderness in his movements. Despite the weight of his presence, there was a certain grace in the way he watched you, as if he were keenly attuned to the fragile state of your emotions. His usually stern expression bore a subtle shift, hints of compassion and understanding flickering across his features like shadows dancing in the dim light of the room.

As he spoke, his voice was a soothing murmur, low and gentle, cutting through the tense silence like a soft breeze on a stormy night. "I promise I won’t hurt you. I have no intention of consummating this marriage given the situation." His words hung in the air, a lifeline extended to you in the depths of your despair. For a moment, the weight of your fear seemed to lift ever so slightly, replaced by a cautious glimmer of hope.

Slowly, you opened your tear-blurred eyes, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of apprehension and longing. You searched the depths of his gaze, seeking any sign of deception or malice, but all you found was sincerity shining back at you like a beacon in the darkness. At that moment, with a trembling breath, you allowed yourself to believe, if only for a fleeting second, that perhaps there was still goodness to be found in this world, even in the most unexpected of places.

As you looked up at Katakuri, his presence no longer looming over you like a specter of fear, you found yourself daring to hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance for him to be a decent man despite the circumstances.

In the tranquil hush of the room, every breath seemed to echo, a delicate symphony of tension and resignation. Katakuri's presence, once a looming specter of dread, now exuded a sense of quiet patience, a silent invitation for you to find solace amidst the chaos of your emotions. The opulence that had once felt stifling now appeared almost ethereal, the soft glow of the chandeliers casting gentle pools of light that danced upon the walls like fleeting whispers.

"I promise,"

His voice resonated like a soothing melody, a gentle reassurance that hung in the air like a fragile thread.

"You are safe here. I won���t touch you if you don’t want me to."

The sincerity in his words was a beacon in the darkness, a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows of fear that lingered in your heart. Tentatively, hesitantly, you allowed yourself to believe him, to entertain the possibility of a sanctuary within the confines of this ornate prison.

Your trembling began to ebb, a gradual release of tension that mirrored the softening of your surroundings. With each passing moment, the weight of your fear lessened, replaced by a cautious sense of calm that settled over you like a comforting embrace.

Though the scars of your ordeal remained, there was a flicker of resilience in your gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the strength that lay dormant within you.

In the stillness of the room, you took a trembling breath, your pulse slowing as you dared to let go of the grip of fear that had held you captive for so long. And as you met Katakuri's unwavering gaze, you found yourself taking the first tentative steps towards reclaiming your sense of agency, your spirit unbroken.

Tears of anguish continued to stream down your cheeks, silent witnesses to the pain that still weighed heavy on your heart. But intertwined with the sorrow was a sense of gratitude, a profound acknowledgment of the small mercy that had been extended to you in this moment of vulnerability. And as you met Katakuri's gaze, you found solace in the silent understanding that passed between you forged by the circumstance you found each other in.

As Katakuri stood before you, his imposing frame now softened by the absence of his wedding attire, you couldn't help but notice the subtle shift in his demeanor.

His broad shoulders, previously concealed beneath layers of formal clothing, now stood bare and unadorned, accentuating the raw strength that lay beneath his stoic exterior. Black sweatpants hugged his frame, emphasizing the powerful muscles that rippled beneath his skin with each movement.

And then, there was his face. Without the intimidating mask that had become synonymous with his identity, Katakuri seemed almost vulnerable, his features exposed to the harsh light of the room. His expression was unreadable, a mask of neutrality that belied the turmoil that lay beneath the surface.

But it was the intricate tattoo that adorned his left shoulder that drew your attention. A complex design of swirling patterns and symbols, it seemed to tell a story of its own, each line and curve a testament to Katakuri's strength and resilience. The tattoo, a mark of his heritage and lineage, spoke of a past shrouded in mystery and tradition.

As your gaze lingered on him, you realized that he had caught you staring. A flicker of self-consciousness crossed his features before he rose gracefully to his feet, moving with a fluidity that belied his size. Without a word, he retrieved a box of tissues from a nearby dresser, placing them gently in front of you with a silent understanding.

"I... I'm nervous too,"

He admitted, his voice a low rumble that filled the room.

"This marriage... it wasn't fair of my mother to impose it upon us like this."

There was a hint of frustration in his tone, a rare display of vulnerability that caught you off guard.

"But for now, we must act as a normal couple. It's the only way to avoid suspicion."

You nodded, taking the tissues with trembling hands as you tried to wipe away the tears that stained your cheeks. The gesture was small but significant, a silent acknowledgment of the fragile truce that existed between you. As you dabbed at your cheeks, you couldn't help but notice the smudged makeup that marred your reflection in the tissue.

Seeing your distress, Katakuri's expression softened, a rare display of empathy in the midst of chaos. "You should shower and change out of your wedding dress," he suggested gently, his voice a soothing balm against the turmoil of your emotions. "I'll... I'll wait outside."

"I thought we couldn't leave until... you know," you murmur, glancing towards the bed where memories of the night's events lingered like ghosts.

Katakuri groans, his frustration evident as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "I forgot," he admits, before letting out a resigned sigh. His gaze returns to you, softer now, tinged with a hint of apology.

"I will wait inside the closet then. Knock three times when you are finished."

But as he starts to rise, you find yourself unable to let him leave just yet. "Wait!" you call out, your voice trembling slightly.

He pauses, turning back to you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. As you rise to your feet, legs shaking with the weight of the evening's events, you move closer to him, heart pounding in your chest.

"P-please help me with the buttons in the back," you request, your voice barely above a whisper. His gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the air between you crackles with unspoken tension.

He holds your gaze, the intensity of his stare making your heart race even faster. With a nod, he steps forward, his fingers deftly undoing the buttons of your wedding dress. The fabric falls away with a soft rustle, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in its wake.

You shiver at the sudden rush of cool air against your skin, his strength evident in the ease with which he undoes each button. When he's finished, you look up at him, meeting his gaze once more.

"I promise I will not touch you," he reassures you, his voice gentle yet firm. With that, he steps back, putting distance between you once more, before retreating into the walk-in closet.

Alone once more, you take a deep breath, the weight of the evening pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. But in the quiet of the room, you find a moment of solace, a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos.

With the now slumping dress held against your form, you rush into the bathroom, shutting the door behind you with a shaky hand. Locking the door provides a momentary sense of security, and you slide down onto the cool tiles, back pressed against the door.

As you sit there, the events of the evening replay in your mind like a broken record. The way Katakuri had grabbed your wrist, the fear that had gripped you, and the unexpected restraint he had shown when you stabbed him... it all whirls around in your head, leaving you feeling dizzy and confused.

You consider asking him about it, about why he didn't retaliate or even mention the wound. But the thought dies on your lips as you glance down at your now discarded dress, realizing that it's probably not the best time to bring it up.

Instead, you focus on the task at hand, turning on the shower and letting the warm water cascade over your body. It's a welcome respite from the chaos of the evening, and you take your time, letting the steam wash away the physical and emotional residue of the night.

As the water cascades down, you can't help but think about how to contact Luffy or the rest of the crew. Pudding seems like the safest option, given her past interactions with your friends. But the logistics of reaching out to her are daunting, especially with Katakuri lurking just outside the door.

Eventually, you finish your shower, wrapping yourself in a large fluffy towel. Glancing at your reflection in the fogged-up mirror, you're struck by how tired and sad you look. With a sigh, you reach for a face towel, intending to run it under cold water to reduce the puffiness around your eyes.

But as you do, you realize just how large the towel is, a stark reminder of the size and strength of your new husband. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you push it aside, focusing instead on getting dry and applying lotion to your body.

Once you're sufficiently covered, you peek out from under the bathroom door, listening for any signs of life in the room beyond. When you hear nothing, you slip back into the room's shadows, quietly making your way to the dresser drawers in search of clothing.

You avoid the underwear set Big Mom had insisted you wear beneath the wedding dress, opting instead to dig through the drawers until you found something. Among the array of garments, you manage to find a black bra and underwear set that fits you perfectly.

A note from Pudding accompanies the lingerie, explaining that it's the best she could do under the circumstances. You hug the note to your chest, grateful for Pudding's help, before slipping into the undergarments.

Next, you find a slip that Pudding had also left for you. Pulling it over your head, you revel in the softness of the fabric against your skin. It's a simple yet elegant piece, with delicate lace adorning the edges. As you adjust the straps, you notice how the slip drapes over your figure, accentuating your curves in a flattering way.

'Would he even like something like this? Oh my God no, I can't believe I just thought of that!'  

You feel your ears begin to heat up again until you turn away from the mirror. Looking down, you're struck by the contrast between the darkness of the lingerie and the sexiness of the red slip. It's a visual representation of the conflicting emotions swirling inside you.

'This won't do.'

Still feeling vulnerable, you return to the dresser drawers, your fingers trailing over the various fabrics as you search for something to provide additional comfort. Finally, you come across a large white shirt tucked away in the back of the drawer. Pulling it on over the slip, you're enveloped in its soft embrace, the oversized fit offering a sense of security you desperately need. With each button fastened, you feel a little more grounded, a little more ready to get through the night.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves as you catch a small whiff of something. The scent of donuts and fire lingers on the fabric, a faint reminder of Katakuri's presence in the room. You pause, the shirt draped over your shoulders, and bring the collar up to your nose, inhaling deeply. The familiar aroma envelops you, warm and comforting, like a gentle embrace in the midst of chaos. It's a reminder that despite the circumstances, you're not entirely alone.

Closing your eyes, you allow yourself a moment of quiet reflection, focusing on the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest as you breathe in the calming scent. For a fleeting instant, the weight of the world lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of peace and tranquility. It's a small respite from the turmoil of the night, but one you cling to nonetheless.

With a steadying breath, you lower the collar of the shirt and let your hand fall to your side. The fabric drapes loosely around your frame, offering both physical comfort and a semblance of emotional refuge. You're still trembling, still uncertain of what lies ahead, but at this moment, wrapped in the scent of cologne and the soft embrace of the oversized shirt, you find yourself before the closet door.

"Hey, you can come out now."

There's no movement from the door. You feel confused before remembering what he had said and raising your hand to gently knock three times. Your knuckles rap lightly against the closet door, the sound echoing in the silent room. For a moment, there's no response, only the hushed murmur of your own breathing. Then, from within the closet, you hear a soft shuffle of movement, followed by the creak of hinges as the door swings open.

Katakuri steps out, his presence filling the room once more. His shirtless form is a stark contrast to the imposing figure you've come to know, his black sweatpants hanging loosely on his frame. Without his mask, his face is revealed, and you can't help but notice deep scares that adorn his face, the sharp fangs that poke out of his lips.

He meets your gaze, his expression unreadable, before his eyes flicker down to the floor, a slight flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "Sorry," he murmurs, his voice low and hesitant. "I didn't mean to make you wait."

You shake your head, a small frown tugging at the corners of your lips. "It's okay," you reassure him, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I'm ready now."

With a nod, Katakuri steps aside, allowing you to pass him and make your way back into the bedroom. The scent of mochi lingers in the air, a comforting reminder of his presence beside you. As you settle back onto the bed, the oversized shirt enveloping you in its warmth, you can't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected kindness of your new husband.

"Thank you," you murmur softly, offering a grateful nod as you settle back onto the dresser, the oversized shirt providing a comforting shield against the lingering tension in the room. But as you find yourself propped on the wood surface, a lingering ache in your wrist prompts a question you can't ignore.

"Katakuri," you begin tentatively, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of curiosity and concern, "about your wrist... I'm sorry if I hurt you earlier."

His brows furrow slightly at your words, a hint of surprise crossing his features before he sighs, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "It's alright," he assures you gently, his tone carrying a sense of understanding. "I knew you'd be asking about that next. And I'm sorry for tugging you so harshly and for any other discomfort, I may have caused you. When I entered and didn't see you, I assumed they were going to send you in after me shortly."

You take in his apology, feeling a sense of relief wash over you at his understanding. It's a response you hadn't expected, one that speaks volumes about his character. In the dim light of the room, you can see the sincerity in his eyes, a quiet reassurance in his presence.

"Thank you," you reply softly, offering him a small nod. "I appreciate your understanding."

He meets your gaze, a silent acknowledgment passing between you before he nods, a small gesture of reassurance. But before the silence settles between you, another question tugs at your thoughts, one that you can't ignore any longer.

"Katakuri," you begin, your voice hesitant as you broach the topic, "about your stab wound... How did you...?"

His expression softens as he meets your gaze, a knowing glint in his eyes. "I figured you'd asking about that next," he admits with a faint chuckle, his tone laced with amusement. "My Devil Fruit powers allow me to manipulate mochi, shaping it into various forms and even extending my limbs. When you stabbed my wrist, it was made of mochi, so it didn't hurt as much as you might think."

You listen intently as he explains, feeling a sense of awe at the revelation of his abilities. It's a reminder of the world you've been thrust into, one filled with wonders and dangers alike. But in that moment, as you sit together in the quiet of the room, you find a sense of comfort in the genuine conversation between you.

As the conversation unfolds, your curiosity drifts to the scars that adorn Katakuri's mouth, the faint lines drawing your attention.

"Katakuri," you inquire softly, your voice filled with genuine interest, "what happened to your mouth? Those scars... they look like they've seen their fair share of battles."

His expression shifts slightly at your question, a hint of hesitation crossing his features before he offers a faint smile. "Ah, these scars," he begins, his voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and vulnerability. "They're... a remainder of a childhood mishap, you could say."

You sense his reluctance to delve deeper into the topic, a subtle tension underlying his words. "I got them when I was young," he continues, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

"An accident involving... donuts."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise, a hint of amusement creeping into your expression despite the seriousness of the moment. "Donuts?" you repeat, unable to suppress a small chuckle.

Katakuri nods, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he looks . "Yes, donuts," he confirms, his tone slightly sheepish. "I... stretched my mouth open too wide while eating them, and... well, the rest is history."

You can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him, realizing the vulnerability he must feel about the scars. "I'm sorry," you offer softly, your voice filled with genuine empathy. "It must have been difficult for you."

He meets your gaze with a grateful nod, a silent acknowledgment passing between you. "Thank you," he murmurs, his tone sincere.

"It's... not something I talk about often."

You nod in understanding, sensing the weight of his words as you sit together in the quiet of the room. At that moment, you find yourself grateful for the opportunity to learn more about the man behind the mask, scars, and all.

As the conversation winds down, Katakuri glances at the clock on the wall, noting the lateness of the hour. "It's getting late," he remarks, his voice gentle but firm. "You should get some sleep."

At his words, a wave of panic washes over you, the prospect of sleeping in the same bed with him filling you with dread. Katakuri notices the sudden change in your demeanor, his brows furrowing in concern. "Is something wrong?" he asks softly, his eyes searching yours.

You hesitate, unsure of how to voice your fear. But before you can respond, he speaks again, his tone reassuring. "I could sleep in the closet," he offers, his voice calm but resolute. "You can have the bed to yourself."

Relief floods through you at his words, gratitude mingling with the lingering fear in your heart. "Thank you," you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper.

With a nod, Katakuri moves to the bed, but you find yourself unable to follow. The fear still grips you, holding you back from taking that step. Sensing your hesitation, Katakuri pauses, his gaze softening as he turns back to you.

"What's wrong?" he inquires gently, his eyes filled with understanding.

You take a deep breath, summoning the courage to voice your feelings. "I'm... afraid," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.

"I don't think I can..."

Katakuri considers your words for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, with a decisive nod, he moves to the bed, swiftly stripping it of all its coverings. "We'll make a makeshift bed on the floor," he decides, his voice calm but determined.

You watch in silence as he gathers extra pillows and blankets from the closet, his movements efficient yet gentle. When he returns, he offers you a choice of designs for the blanket, a small gesture of kindness that touches your heart.

With a grateful nod, you select a donut design, your fingers trembling slightly as you take the blanket from him. Together, you create a makeshift bed on the floor, arranging the pillows and blankets until they form a comfortable nest.

Katakuri finishes arranging the makeshift bed with a satisfied smile, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes. "Alright, this should do it. I used to do the same for my siblings when they were younger," he remarks, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Turning to you, he waits for your response.

As he mentions returning to the closet, you remember his earlier promise not to touch you, a gesture of respect and consideration that doesn't go unnoticed. You meet his gaze, silently contemplating his offer.

After a moment of thought, you shake your head slightly. "I wouldn't mind if you slept on the opposite end of the pillow fort," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

A small smile graces Katakuri's lips at your suggestion. "Alright," he replies, his tone warm and accepting. With a nod, he settles down on the opposite end of the makeshift bed, giving you a comfortable distance.

The room falls into a hushed darkness as Katakuri dims the lights, casting soft shadows across the walls. You watch him settle onto his side of the makeshift bed, his movements deliberate and controlled. With a quiet sigh, you follow suit, curling up on your side, facing away from him.

As you lie there in the stillness of the room, you try to quiet your mind, to let the events of the day fade into the background. But try as you might, sleep eludes you. Your thoughts drift back to the chaotic events that led you here, to this unfamiliar room in a mansion far from home.

You remember the fear and desperation, the overwhelming sense of helplessness as you found yourself trapped in a nightmare not of your making. The tears come unbidden, silently slipping down your cheeks as you relive the terror of facing a future filled with uncertainty.

Each sob threatens to unravel the fragile calm you've managed to hold onto, leaving you feeling raw and exposed. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the tears to stop, but they keep coming, a relentless torrent of emotion that refuses to be contained.

The weight of the day's events bears down on you, pressing against your chest like a heavy burden. Your breath becomes shallow and uneven, your heart pounding in your ears as you struggle to find a moment's respite from the turmoil raging within.

You turn onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, feeling utterly alone in the darkness. The quiet of the room is suffocating, the absence of noise amplifying the cacophony of thoughts swirling in your mind.

You try to focus on your breathing, to find some semblance of calm amidst the storm raging within you. But each inhale feels strained, each exhale a release of pent-up tension that only seems to fuel your restlessness.

You toss and turn, shifting from one position to another, but no matter how hard you try, sleep remains elusive. The hours drag on, stretching into eternity, and still, you lie there, trapped in the prison of your own thoughts.

And as the first light of dawn filters through the curtains, casting a pale glow across the room, you realize with a sinking heart that sleep will not come this night.

You feel a presence, and you turn over to find Katakuri looking at you with concern etched across his features. His eyes are soft, a stark contrast to the imposing figure you've come to know. In that moment, you realize he's not just a fearsome pirate, but also a man burdened with his own worries and doubts.

He sees the tears glistening on your cheeks and without a word, he rises from the makeshift bed and retrieves more tissues, sliding them over to you with a quiet understanding. You meet his gaze, studying the lines of tension in his brow, the slight furrow of his brow that speaks volumes of his concern.

It occurs to you then, that he's not unaffected by the events of the night. Beneath his stoic exterior lies a vulnerability you hadn't noticed before, a vulnerability mirrored in your own trembling hands and tear-streaked face.

"Katakuri," you whisper, his name a lifeline in the darkness. He stands at attention, his posture rigid with anticipation. You pause, unsure of what to say, but knowing that you need to say something, anything to bridge the gap between you.

You feel your heart reach out to him, a silent acknowledgment of the shared struggle you both face. He meets your gaze, his eyes searching yours for reassurance, for solace. And in that moment, you see him not as an enemy, but as someone who, like you, is grappling with the weight of their own emotions.

"I... I just want to thank you," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "For... for being here. For... for helping me."

His expression softens, a flicker of understanding passing between you.

"You are most welcome."

You glance once more at the bed, then decisively grab the donut blanket and climb on top of it. Katakuri watches you, a mixture of confusion and concern evident in his expression as you make your move.

Scooting back into the bed, you pat the space where you were just sitting, silently inviting him to join you. He stares at the spot for a long moment, his brow furrowed with contemplation, before finally taking a seat beside you.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you turn to him, your voice soft but determined. "If you would accept," you begin, meeting his gaze head-on, "I will give you permission to sleep next to me and touch me, but only for comfort and if you consent to do so. I do not wish to consummate our marriage."

There's a vulnerability in your words, a raw honesty that lays bare your fears and desires. Katakuri's expression softens as he processes your words, his eyes searching yours for a moment before a myriad of emotions flickers across his face.

Finally, he nods, a solemn acceptance of your terms. "I understand," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I accept your conditions."

Relief floods through you, mingling with the lingering apprehension. Tentatively, you reach out to him, your voice trembling slightly as you continue, "But I do need a hug and would like one from you."

His gaze softens further, and without a word, he pulls you into his arms, enveloping you in a comforting embrace. In that moment, as you rest against his chest, you feel a sense of connection and understanding.

As Katakuri's arms wrap around you, you can feel the steady, rhythmic beating of his heart beneath his chest. His warmth seeps into you, a soothing balm against the cold dread that's settled in your bones. His muscles are tense at first, a reflection of his own uncertainty, but as you gently pat his shoulder, he begins to relax, the rigidity in his frame easing with each tender touch.

"May I pet your hair?" he asks softly, his voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room.

You nod against his chest, your consent a whisper in the stillness. His fingers thread through your hair with a careful touch, the sensation both comforting and intimate.

The knots in your chest and the tangled web of thoughts in your mind start to melt away as his gentle ministrations continue. His scent—a unique blend of mochi, donuts, and a hint of campfire smoke—envelops you, grounding you in the present moment and gradually clearing the fog of your anxieties.

You nuzzle into him softly, feeling a newfound sense of safety in his embrace. An idea forms in your mind, a way to comfort him in return.

"May I touch your cheek?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

There's a moment of silence, a pause that stretches on until he finally answers quietly, "Yes."

Slowly, you raise your hand to his cheek, your fingers trembling slightly. As you let your fingers trace over his scar, you can feel the texture of the healed skin, and the vulnerability he rarely shows. His eyes close briefly, and you sense the tension in him easing further, your touch a silent offering of understanding and acceptance.

Katakuri leans into your touch, the warmth of your palm against his scarred cheek seeming to provide him with a sense of comfort and solace. His eyes flutter closed, and you can feel the last remnants of tension drain from his body. The rhythmic motion of his fingers in your hair slows, his breath becoming deeper and more even.

Before you know it, he's fallen asleep, his head resting gently against your hand. The sight of him, so vulnerable and at peace, tugs at your heartstrings. The steady rise and fall of his chest, and the softness of his expression, make you realize how exhausting this day has been for both of you.

You let your hand linger on his cheek for a moment longer, taking in the tranquility of the scene. His steady heartbeat beneath your touch, the warmth of his body, and the faint scent of mochi and campfire smoke create a cocoon of calm around you. For the first time since this ordeal began, you feel a glimmer of hope.

As you nuzzle into him, you close your eyes, letting the security of his presence lull you into a gentle sleep. Wrapped in the warmth of each other's embrace, the world outside fades away, leaving only the quiet promise of a new beginning in its wake.

You're both in this together, navigating the uncertainties of your situation as a team.

_____________________________________________________________

That was part 1 folks, lemme know how you liked it!

Make sure you check out the a03 account by the same name. Everything I have posted here is there in chronological order. I also have other hot One piece characters posted in the masterlist! Give them a read if you please!

Be sure to check out my other works and leave likes and comments, they really help. Drop a follow as well if you please. Don’t be shy to leave me a little reblog if you want. I am also currently taking requests.

I promise I bite~

Seen you soon my loves!!~ <<33

[papayaturtles]

🌱 Seeds of doubt 🌱

I know it's probably out of character for cTubbo to look for relationship advice with cNiki but I think it's cute so FUCK IT WE BALL

[zee-rambles]

———-

Grounding Techniques

First I Prev I Next

[scribblue]

"Expectations" A Naturaldisaster* Fic

[*Poly ship with Jay, Cole, Geo, and Nya.]

Jay struggles with self-identity and relationships after losing his memories in the merge, and some familiar faces have been trying to help him through it... but it's an unfamiliar one that finally gets through to him. 3,437 words | Rated T, some suggestive themes/references | Angst and Comfort

Read below, or on ao3!

✧《✩》✧

The boy in the photograph almost looked like him.

Closely cropped hair modeled the same ginger hue as his current mop of curls, and a youthful face bore traces of freckles not yet matured under the sun. The boy was hemmed in on both sides by faces Jay only partly recognized– younger versions of the people that claimed to know him before the Merge. Cole stood on his right, Nya his left, squeezing in tight with arms threaded through his elbows. Their bright smiles and casual displays of affection almost made all those outlandish stories about his past feel plausible. Almost.

The longer he stared at the photograph, the deeper his unease grew. It was like peering into an alternate timeline, or some washed-up magician's crystal ball; everything felt frustratingly familiar and terribly wrong at the same time, like a word lingering at the tip of his tongue and never finding its way past his lips. Here was a moment in time preserved in a frame, yet all of his memories were nothing but static. This memory didn't belong to him anymore. He couldn't be sure it ever did.

"You and Cole were real close."

The gravelled voice jolted him out of his thoughts. Jay turned towards it, mildly relieved to see the one person that didn't claim a long, complicated history with him. Geo lingered in the threshold to the bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. 

Jay frowned. "So I've heard."

Geo countered his frown with a soft smile. He shut the door quietly behind him, though there was little need for privacy; Cole was watching the little gremlins with Bonzle over at the Monastery, allowing Jay and Geo an evening alone at the junkyard. Not that Jay would have objected to Cole's involvement, of course, except perhaps in this very conversation. "He told me a lot about you," Geo said. "About the two of you. You and Nya, too."

Jay rolled his eyes and gave an irritated huff, making sure to amp up the theatrics. "Oh, great. And here I was thinking I'd finally met someone who doesn't have all these expectations of me." 

"Expectations?"

"Everyone thinks they know me better than I know me, but they don't," Jay said, letting the bitterness drip from each word like Venomari spit. "They all try to tell me how I felt, what I liked, and how I acted, as if it makes any difference now." He set the picture frame down on the dresser with a pointed clank, his gaze still fixed on it. His old self smiled back naively. "That version of me doesn't exist anymore."

He hadn't realized Geo moved closer until he felt a hand on his upper arm, gently refocusing his attention to a faint, saddened smile. "But he did exist once, didn't he?" 

Something twinged in his chest, a pang of everything he'd tried so hard to suppress; he put on a good show of not caring about his supposed past, but here he was longing for his companion's words to be true. Heat rose to his cheeks and yearning flared into annoyance, brightening Jay's red eyes in a flash. He jerked his arm away. "I don't know! How should I know? I have no memories of anything before the Merge."

"I know," Geo said gently. He gestured to the photograph with a nod of his head. "But they do. Cole and Nya knew you intimately– whether you believe that or not, that's their truth. It's natural they want to share that with you, Jay. Even if things are different now."

Jay crossed his arms and turned away, taking a few steps towards the bed. It was neatly made in anticipation for his arrival, a third pillow living between the usual two. He glared at it with practiced indifference. "I'm not the person they all think I am."

"Maybe...maybe not. But you are someone they want to know, aren't you?" 

"Only because they think I'm their ex."

Geo crossed the space between them with light-footed steps, as though approaching too quickly would scare him away like a bird rustled from the bushes. He placed a hand on his back and leaned forward to catch a glimpse of his face, which Jay angled away to avoid his probing eyes. "You're not my ex."

"No," Jay admitted. "I'm not." That much was undeniably true. With the other two, he at least felt a nagging ache of familiarity somewhere at the back of his fuzzy mind, and had visual proof to back up their claims of previous relationships. Geo, however, was a blank slate. A different kind of mystery to unravel, with a whole different set of complications. Jay finally met his gaze, and the adoration– or perhaps infatuation– he found there was as enabling as it was overwhelming. "...I'm just something new to tinker on, aren't I? A broken man to fuse back together?"

Geo's elven ears drooped. The adoring look morphed into that of a kicked puppy, and for a moment Jay almost regretted his words, though only briefly; sick satisfaction was quick to lock its jaws around his neck. As much as Geo seemed to enjoy “fixing” him, these days Jay got his kicks by ruining everyone he touched. 

“Of course not, Jay,” Geo said. He sounded so sincere. Maybe he even was. “What would ever give you that idea?”

Jay snorted. “Please. That’s like…your whole thing, isn’t it? Turning trash into 'treasure'?” He reached over to the nightstand, picking up a mini sculpture welded together with Geo’s fusion powers. It was a figure, seemingly of Cole, frozen in a heroic pose and sculpted of scrap materials. Bits of metal, bottle caps, rusty gears and coils. He waved it at Geo with a sneering smile before tossing it at him underhand. Geo scrambled to catch it. “I’m just your newest project.”

“You are not– and be careful with that, that was an anniversary present.” Geo fussed over the figure, ensuring all of the repurposed trash was in the proper place. When he seemed satisfied, he carefully set it back on its place of honor.

“See? You care more about your things than you do me. Why do you even still make stuff with that junk? You said you could live anywhere now, you could be out there making…literally anything else, with literally anything else. Why a junkyard?" Despite a judgemental tone, his curiosity was genuine– Jay couldn't imagine why anyone would willingly live in a place like this, much less rummage through other people's trash to use as materials. 

“...I like it," Geo said, his voice so quiet Jay nearly couldn’t hear it. He averted his gaze and began worrying the tassled hem of his vest. “This place was my home when I never had one of my own, and… I don’t know. I like giving lost things a purpose. Even if I’m not lost myself anymore.”

Giving lost things a purpose. The words struck a chord somewhere inside Jay, like the ringing of the gong he still felt resonate through his bones. He pushed the feeling deep down into the yawning pit in his stomach. “Oh yeah? What’s my purpose, then, oh great Purpose-Giver?”

Geo halted his nervous fidgeting. Slowly, he raised his gaze to study Jay's face, feathered brows knitting together over probing eyes. "Your purpose?"

"Since you're the expert."

His lips pursed into a taut line, broken only by his two protruding lower teeth. “Well...what do you want your purpose to be?”

Oh great, the cryptic wise-man routine. Jay groaned, throwing his head back in exaggerated exasperation. “Nevermind. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Jay, you know I can’t answer that for you. That’s something you have to discover for yourself.” 

Though delicately spoken, his words hit like bricks. He wasn’t wrong, and Jay knew that. He hated that he knew that. He’d been struggling to establish a new purpose since leaving the Administration, since being abandoned by his master, Ras; so far, he’d come no closer to achieving that. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

Geo stepped closer, extending a hesitant hand to clasp one of Jay’s. Jay stared down at it blankly. “You aren’t alone," Geo said. "If there’s any way I can help you on that journey, I, and surely Cole and Nya, would happily—”

Jay gripped Geo's hand like a vice and yanked him close. Their chests collided, and the sudden motion elicited a yelp from Geo, quickly stifled into an insistent kiss. At first he didn't return it, but slowly his lips softened to accommodate Jay's; not quite the same level of energy, but Jay had no issues picking up the slack. This was his element...at least, it was lately. An electricity unlike any he wielded in a fight. His free hand grappled at Geo’s waist, attempting to pull him even closer as though fusion could merge their bodies into one. 

He nipped at Geo’s lips, eliciting small noises in response but otherwise minimal reciprocation. Jay let go of his hand and took him by both hips, blindly maneuvering him towards the bed until he felt Geo’s calves bump against the frame. Geo pulled away from the kiss and gasped for the air he'd been passionately deprived of. “Jay…”

Jay kicked an ankle out from under Geo and allowed the two of them to fall onto the mattress, to another surprised yelp from Geo. Jay landed on top of him and wasted no time to dive back into a kiss, propping himself up with one arm and grabbing at Geo’s cropped shirt with the other. Everything in Jay's head had melted away, leaving only this. Only the moment they shared. Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else mattered.

Nothing else mattered.

Geo broke the kiss once more by turning his face away from Jay's mouth, which began to travel along Geo’s jawline and neck instead. Roving fingers teased the hem of Geo's shirt, before being abruptly grabbed and held tight. “Jay,” Geo repeated, more forcefully this time. “Can you just— hold on a second?”

Hold on? Jay pushed himself upright to the best of his ability, just enough that he could get a good look at Geo’s face; his cheeks were flushed a dark reddish-purple, but rather than the usual blissful or flustered expression, he carried a troubled air that gave Jay additional pause. “...What?”

“Jay…I…this is…” Geo fumbled his words, seeming unable to land on any. He rubbed Jay’s fingers absently with his own. “I…I don’t know if I’m in the mood…for this…right now.”

Jay felt himself deflate under the crushing weight of returning reality. “What? Why? What do you mean?” he said, unable to keep the panic out of his voice.

“I just– it's nothing you did, and it's not that I don't enjoy it, but… maybe we could just...talk, tonight?"

Jay’s pulse quickened. A litany of unsavory thoughts spiraled in his brain, a tornado of self-loathing that had long since been percolating, just waiting for an excuse to gain momentum. He’d made Geo uncomfortable. How? This was supposed to be the fix. The smooth-over, the nonverbal apology for every passive-aggressive comment that spilled from his mouth that night. How had he managed to mess this up too? “Talk? That’s— no, I’m not good at talking. Please, I’m not— this is the only thing I’m good at,” he said, the words spilling from his mouth before he could stop them. “Please, Geo, this is the only thing I’m good at. Don’t take that away from me, I—” He caught himself mid-sentence, realization sinking in at Geo’s increasingly concerned expression. “...No. I’m sorry. It’s fine, actually. I don’t even care. That’s fine. No worries, I’ll just— I’m gonna go, then.”

He started to push himself to his feet, and Geo hurried to grasp his arms, pulling him back. “Jay,” Geo said, voice as firm as his grip. “Stay. It’s alright, you don’t have to leave.”

 “Yes I do. I can’t do all this…this…talking. All these emotions. I told you, I’m not good at it. I’m not good at it like you, I don’t— all I do is make people feel bad.”

“You’re not trying to.”

"Sometimes I am. Sometimes I enjoy it, too. I’m really, really good at making people feel bad, Geo. But this…this is the one time where I feel like I can make people feel good, and…” His chest tightened along with his throat, and his eyes stung with tears that threatened to form. He heaved a dry sob, like a breath caught in reverse. “If I’m not good at that, what am I? Just some asshole with amnesia? Geo, I don’t know who the fuck I am. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t—” The floodgates burst, sending rivers of electrified tears streaming down his cheeks in a trail of static shocks. His shoulders shuddered as another sob overtook him. “I don’t know who I am.”

“Hey, hey now, it’s alright.” Geo reached up to swipe at Jay’s tears, jumping slightly at the static that crackled on his thumb. He shook it off, wholly undeterred. “Come on. Come here.” He shuffled himself further onto the bed and laid down on the pillows, beckoning Jay to join him with wide, open arms. 

Jay sniffled, staring at him for a long moment before he finally gave in— what more did he have to lose? His dignity was already long gone. He crawled over to him and flopped into Geo’s arms, head landing on his chest. Geo completed the gesture by wrapping his arms tightly around Jay’s upper body in turn. 

As soon he sunk into the embrace, the sobs increased in intensity, and the tears poured onto Geo’s shirt. Geo only held him tighter, a granted permission that Jay had never even given himself: to cry freely.

Neither of them spoke. Jay wouldn’t even think of attempting it in that state, lest he be reduced to even more of a blubbering mess; he’d admitted plenty already, and Geo didn’t seem to mind the lack of conversation. He merely hummed a comforting tune under his breath and rubbed gentle circles into Jay’s back. It was a strange sensation, to be cared for. Jay wasn’t sure he knew what to do with it. He didn’t understand how Geo offered it so easily, like it was second nature to him. But the embrace felt…nice, Jay supposed. 

He had no idea if he’d ever cried like this before. It certainly felt like a first. Had the old him sobbed on Nya or Cole’s chest? Did he cry over every little thing, or had it only happened when he reached a breaking point? Did he feel as ashamed of his tears then as he did now? Jay had no answers for any of those questions, and wasn’t sure if he truthfully wanted them. All he knew was that, be it a first or not, he was sobbing in Geo’s arms. And in some odd, twisted way, it felt good. 

He wasn’t sure how long he cried. It ebbed and flowed like a wave, building up to a crescendo just to crash and settle once more. Eventually, though, his tear ducts began to dry up, and the tightness in his chest began to ease. Geo wordlessly stretched an arm over to the nightstand to grab a tissue, which Jay gratefully accepted— he felt like he was drowning in his own facial fluids, and was eager to regain some composure. Geo just laid there, observing while Jay aggressively wiped his face, blew his nose, and tossed the balled-up tissue onto the floor. Jay let his head fall back on Geo’s chest. His neck felt weak. And Geo was warm. “Don’t tell Cole or Nya about this,” he mumbled.

“About what? You littering tissues on my floor?” Geo said, earning a slight amused huff.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I won’t. But having emotions isn’t a crime, you know. I don’t think either of them would judge you for it.”

“They should. It’s gross. I hate it. Don’t tell them.”

Geo chuckled softly, the heave of his chest shaking Jay’s head. “I won’t, I won’t.” 

“Good.” He considered leaving it at that, but a dreaded seed of guilt began nagging at the back of his tired mind. He curled his arm around Geo’s torso and sniffed. “...Thanks.”

Geo craned his neck to place a gentle kiss on the top of his head, amidst his fluffy curls. Barely did it graze his scalp, but he felt it resonate down to his very core. “Any time.”

They laid there in silence for longer than Jay could keep track of, despite his attempts to keep time by the ticking wall clock and the beating of Geo’s heart. It thump-thumped a steady rhythm, as dependable as its carrier. Slowly, the internal lullaby lured him into a deep, inescapable slumber.

✧《✩》✧

Cole

Despite having their own room in the Monastery, neither Spitz nor Fritz would be deterred from sleeping in their ‘own beds’ that night. Cole certainly couldn’t deny them that, even though he was well aware they’d be sleeping in his arms before they even arrived—and they were. Or, at least Spitz was. Fritz was determined to walk regardless of his barely open eyes, guided like a sleepwalker by Cole’s hand. 

He didn’t blame the two of them for wanting to come back. While the monastery was like a home to him, the first to take him in after striking out on his own, the Finder’s residence was his home. His, Geo’s, Bonzle’s, Spitz and Fritz’s. Maybe it was once made from necessity, a lack of freedom…but it became a choice to stay. And it was a choice he was happy to keep making.

The house was quiet and dark when they walked in. Curious, he had expected at least a couple lights, or to hear some muted conversation. Everything felt so…still. Cole shifted Spitz on his hip. “Bonzle, can you take the kids to their room? I gotta check on the love birds.”

“Can do,” Bonzle said, reaching out to take Spitz from Cole with a soft grunt of effort. Cole transferred Fritz’s hand to hers and the three adoptive siblings made their way to the younger one’s bedroom. 

Cole smiled after them, and then turned his attention to the closed door across the hall. He approached cautiously and gave a small knock. “Jay, Geo? I’m home.” Without a response, he tried the doorknob—unlocked—and opened the door as quietly as he could muster.

It was dark in the bedroom, too. As Cole peered in, a strip of soft blue light illuminated the pair sleeping on the bed above the blankets, still fully clothed. Jay was laying somewhat on top of Geo, with his head resting on his chest and one of Geo’s arms draped loosely across his back. It was as heartwarming a sight as it was surprising to see Jay cuddled up on Geo the way he used to cuddle up on Cole. The way he denied ever doing before.

Geo peeked open an eye as the light hit him, sleepy confusion giving way to a smile when he noticed his partner standing in the doorway. He beckoned for him, and Cole was quick to comply, leaning down to give Geo a peck on the lips before gingerly climbing into bed. He moved slow and deliberately so as not to wake sleeping beauty, managing to position himself in a spooning position against Jay’s back with his head on the pillow next to Geo. He stacked his arm on top of the one that currently cradled Jay, enveloping him in a dual hug. 

Jay shifted and let out a muffled groan, and Cole froze, unsure if Jay would appreciate or allow the intrusion. It wasn’t long before he got his answer by way of Jay’s hand fumbling into theirs, weakly grasping at their wrists and pulling them tighter around his body. He stretched his legs, shimmied his shoulders, and let out a long, drawn-out sigh—content, or perhaps resigned— before settling back into sleep between the two of them.

Tension released from Cole’s shoulders, and he sighed happily in turn. Whether or not Jay would acknowledge this night ever again, much less allow it to be more than a fluke, Cole would appreciate every moment while he had it, this glimpse of his old jay resurfacing.

I know you’re in there, Jay, was the last thought that crossed Cole’s mind as rest began to claim him. And we’re right here.

[epiphany-of-a-madwoman]

— The Archer | R. Targaryen *✧･ﾟ

▹ Pairing: Rhaenyra Targaryen x Reader

▹ Genre: Angst and Comfort

▹ Words: ~3.7k

▹ Summary: All of Rhaenyra's enemies started as friends and she's terrified you'll be next.

▹ Note: Your Honor, I'm gay.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

There'd been a shift in your relationship with Rhaenyra.

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it had happened or the exact reason for it. But something had changed. No longer did she freely show her affections in the privacy of her chambers, nor did she reach out to hold your hand in hers. Cold and distant, Rhaenyra didn't call on you as much as she previously had. 

Paranoia had you in its claws; had you done something wrong? Did she find someone else to fall in love with? Perhaps someone she could be with so publicly, not a lowly handmaiden she could only ever have in the quiet of the night. 

Your heart hammered with anxiety and suspense; tossing and turning, sleep had evaded you as you began to keep tally of how many times Rhaenyra called on your aid. The most in one day had been three, and she used to call on you double that amount just to be in your presence. Something was wrong; you just didn't know what. 

She wouldn't even meet your gaze anymore. 

It made you squirm when in her presence, where once you had been at complete ease. Doubt made your sunny skies turn gray as insecurities gnawed on you. Did she rekindle her friendship with Queen Alicent and leave you in the dust? Or was it Daemon Targaryen who captured her attention from you? Perhaps someone new to the court you hadn't even realized was a threat. 

There was nothing to do; you were helpless, unable to act as the woman you loved drifted further away. Goodbye was screaming in the silence between the two of you.

Hands shaking and breathing unsteady, your footsteps echoed in the dark halls, its flickering candles casting monsters in the corner of your vision. Your fingers gripped the serving tray in your hand so tight that all circulation had been cut off as your knuckles turned white. The decanter of wine shook, and its sound called out just how terrified you were. 

The princess had requested red wine as she prepared for bed, and you were terribly anxious this would be the night she'd officially end the relationship the two of you shared. But you didn't want that; you didn't want to face the harsh reality that everything was crumbling around you. You'd take awkward silence over definite endings. 

All too soon, you reached her chambers, the doors looming over you in a mocking manner. Carefully, you raised a single fist to the door and knocked, the rap of your fist almost as loud as the beat of your heart. A lump was caught in your throat as you waited.

"Come in." The walls muffled Rhaenyra's voice, but you'd heard them well enough, always too aware of anything related to Rhaenyra. And maybe that was where you went wrong. Blinded by the princess, you took her words as an oath and not the petty dalliance she probably viewed it as. 

Carefully, hands still shaking, you opened the door. The sweat on your palm nearly made it stick to the cool metal of the knob.

The room was dimly lit by half-melted candles and candelabras spread throughout the large chamber. The duvet on her large bed was pulled back, inviting her to sink into the plush mattress of cloud-like pillows. Rhaenyra sat in front of her vanity, hair loose and unbraided, dressed in a night dress and a silk robe. She turned her head as you entered, purple eyes carefully watching you with an unreadable expression. 

She used to look at you with warmth and vibrant affection, every emotion she felt visible on her face. Now it was like looking at a statue, harsh and emotionless. The pit in your stomach burrowed deeper, and your heart got caught in your throat. Where did it all go wrong?

Your eyes darted from her, unable to stare any longer without bursting into tears. The walls were closing in on you as the ability to breathe was taken from you. Like a rat, you hurried to the other side of the room, setting the tray on a small table. 

You opened the decanter, pouring the red wine into the glass. You took your time to avoid spilling anything. You needed to be out of the room as soon as possible. The weight of Rhaenyra's eyes on you was equivalent to the ceiling collapsing onto you. A scenario you would've preferred over this one; at least then death would be quicker than this slow burn. 

There was a soft clank as you set down the crystal decanter. With the glass of wine in hand, you turned and walked towards Rhaenyra. Eyes lowered to the floor, and counting each step taken, you set the glass on the vanity, a few inches from Rhaenyra's hand, that tightly gripped the wood's edge. 

You didn't mutter a word, simply lowering into a slight curtsey before turning and exiting the room. Except you hadn't made it that far, only crossing half of the room before Rhaenyra spoke. 

"Wait." 

You stopped in your tracks, the hammer of your heart so loud you wouldn't be surprised if all of Dragonstone heard it. 

"Come here."

Your eyes fluttered shut, unsure whether you should be relieved or terrified. She would either take you in her arms as she had nearly every night the past year, or she'd fully sever the thread that tied the two of you together.

Deeply you inhaled, held it for a moment, then exhaled, opening your eyes. You turned, eyes still on the floor, as you returned to where Rhaenyra sat. You waited for her to speak, terrified of what she may say. So silent you could've blended into the walls; things had never been this way between you. Rhaenyra had always been more of a friend than a superior and then a friend that became a lover. 

But now she would become a stranger again.

"Would you brush my hair and plait it for bed?" She spoke to you as if you were a stranger, even-toned and perfectly polite. But perhaps if you'd been looking anywhere other than your feet, you'd have noticed the storm of emotions reflected in her eyes. 

Wordlessly you nodded, grabbing the hair brush and meticulously brushing out any knots and tangles. You made quick work of it but refrained from seeming too eager to finish the task. The last thing you needed was to potentially anger Rhaenyra, something you'd never been afraid of. But nothing was as it once was. 

Her hair was like silk threads between your fingers as you wove each strand into one braid that fell down the middle of her back. While your eyes focused solely on her hair and the task at hand, Rhaenyra's were on you. 

A soft smile curled at the edges of her lips, heart heavy with anxiety and fear she didn't dare speak into existence. It wasn't that she wanted to push you away. But as paranoia and fear took root within her mind, rotting away her faith and belief that there were good things out there, distancing herself was better than watching you twist into someone who hated her.  

Yet even as she resolved herself to do such, creating an armor of ice to encase herself with, the sting of heartbreak hit her heart. While she would self-soothe with reassurances that it was only raw for now, that soon the ache would dull, she wasn't convinced. In the loneliness of the night, her bed was entirely too big. You should've been in the space beside her, greeting her with sleepy smiles and bleary eyes that sparkled like stars. 

Rhaenyra was sure that she'd be getting over you her whole life. Yet missing you wasn't the worst of it.

Never a player of the Great Game the nobles busied themselves with, you wore your heart on your sleeve. It was evident the hurt you bore from her sudden withdrawal. Shockwaves of trembling hands and unsteady breaths plagued you, eyes not as bright as they once had been. She noticed it all, and it was like a dagger to the heart every time she did. She never wanted to hurt you; she never wanted you to hate her. 

Yet the fear of you twisting the dagger embedded in her chest from past betrayal made her rash. It made her paranoid, visions of treachery riddling her with madness. Alone in the dark, twisting in her sheets, Rhaenyra's doubts spiraled out of control. 

But in the solitude of her room, Rhaenyra could feel her walls weakening as your nimble fingers brushed through her hair.

You continued your work on Rhaenyra's hair, nearly finished as you reached the end. Before Rhaenyra could return the mask of indifference to her face, you were tying her braid with a cord, eyes moving from her head to meet her eyes in the mirror. Reflected in her eyes was the same pain and longing in yours. It made a lump return to your throat, a small sliver of hope like dawn coming after night. 

Neither of you spoke, your hands still tangled in the ends of her hair. Time had stopped, the both of you screaming a million things with your eyes. Yet neither of you could understand the other, leading to more confusion as your heart continued to break. She nearly reached out and snatched your hands; in fact, she was lifting her hand, fingers outstretched--

The sudden rumble of thunder broke the silence as you jumped back from Rhaenyra, hands falling to your side, and Rhaenyra mourned the loss of your touch. She realized how much she truly missed it.

"Will that be all, my lady?" You lowered your head, eyes once again on your feet.

Rhaenyra hesitated. She'd wanted you to stay, to pull you into her arms and make you swear you'd never leave her. She wanted you to leave kisses on her face, punctuating each one with a promise of undying fealty, not as an heir to the Iron Throne but as the woman you loved. So close within her grasp, she could have reached out and captured your hand, holding it so tight she wouldn't feel a thing. Everything she wanted stood before her, patiently waiting for her to speak. 

And yet Rhaenyra found herself tongue-tied, fighting a war no one else knew was waging. Could she take the leap, put her faith, trust, and everything sacred to her in you, and just simply hope you wouldn't turn your back on her? Could she fully bare her soul, grant you her heart, and pray you wouldn't crush it? Love involved a leap of faith that Rhaenyra was hesitant to take.

How could she open up after so much betrayal from the ones she least expected it from?

But at the same time, all she was feeling was pain that she had inflicted on herself. Was she some sort of masochist, content with being hurt so long as she could wield when and who it came from? 

"Princess?" Your voice pulled Rhaenyra from her thoughts as she refocused on her surroundings. You were looking at her, a hint of concern in the cracks of your neutral expression. 

It only made Rhaenyra's heart twist. You should be cursing her name, swearing up and down the halls Rhaenyra Targaryen was a cheat and a liar. And yet... 

You still cared; it shone in how you watched her, eyes too keen and all-knowing. But if you were all-knowing, why couldn't you see the paranoid propaganda she was feeding herself? She wished, more than anything, you were the mind reader she often joked you were.

Time seemed to slow, unknown words forming on her tongue and falling from her mouth. 

"Stay with me." 

For a moment you stared at her, entirely sure you'd heard her wrong. Yet even as you replayed her answer over and over again, it hadn't changed. She wanted you to stay. Yet even as you lit up with newfound optimism, you crushed it before it could blossom. You didn't want to be let down. 

You then nodded, unable to stifle the small smile on your lips. "Of course, princess. What is it you require of me?"

Rhaenyra picked up the glass of wine that had remained untouched up until that moment, and she stood from the vanity. She tipped the glass back, welcoming the bitter taste of it.

"Have a drink with me." 

You nodded, following Rhaenyra as she walked towards the table where you had placed the decanter of wine. You moved to pour the glass, but Rhaenyra beat you to it, filling a second glass she presented before topping off her own. 

"Thank you," you muttered, taking the glass and tentatively sipping. It was all so familiar, like a sense of deja-vu from when the two of you would sip wine and explore fantasies that could never be. Yet the air was never this thick with tension.

Rhaenyra sat at the table, motioning with her head for you to follow suit, which you did. Your fingers drummed on the wood, nerves making you restless. It felt as though you were awaiting trial for crimes against the crown. 

Unspoken words hovered in the atmosphere, tangible yet elusive. Rhaenyra drank the wine like water while you hardly touched yours. Your stomach was so twisted that the thought of drinking anything made you nauseous. 

The only indication that any time had passed was the dwindling wine and the storm that continued to rage outside. After her third glass had been drained, Rhaenyra set down the cup, pushing it away to indicate she was finished. 

Only then did her eyes find yours, expression severe and austere. There were small lines along her forehead from the furrow of her brows and creases from the frown on her lips. You wanted to smooth them all and kiss away whatever made her so cold, yet that wasn't your place anymore. 

"Do you love me?" She spoke softly, yet a sharp edge to her words carried the weight of an unspoken accusation. She judged you guilty of crimes you never even committed, put you in a cell, and destroyed the key without so much of a trial.

Yet you could do nothing but answer her earnestly because no matter the number of cuts in your skin from her sudden distance, your heart would always belong to her and only her. 

"Yes." 

Rhaenyra's jaw tightens, and in the flicker of the candles, you see the quiver of her lip and the slight shake of her form. She was crumbling, ash to the fire you radiated. Any resolve to preserve her heart in the act of self-sabotage was destroyed. 

"Say it." The words were strained, Rhaenyra's eyes shut so tight the skin might rip. Tears pricked in her eyes, and Rhaenyra did her best to keep them at bay. 

"I love you." You said it with such conviction and sincerity, Rhaenyra nearly believed it. Her eyes remained shut, but her body slackened and sunk into her chair. However, you leaned forward, eyes narrowed as everything clicked into place.

"Is that why you have been so distant and different? Did you believe I did not love you?" You asked, hands finding Rhaenyra's. You gripped them tightly as if to force Rhaenyra to truly see you. 

"It is silly," she laughed, the sounds hollow and empty. She refused to look at you, knowing the burning passion in your eyes would make her fully give in. But she needed to maintain the walls around her heart, even if you kept tearing them down as she put them into place. She wouldn't be hurt by anyone ever again. 

"It is not," you argued, squeezing her hand. "Look at me." She didn't heed your request, stubbornly turning her head away. You stood, the wood of your chair scraping against the stone floor, and you kneeled before Rhaenyra, pulling one of her hands into yours, elbows resting atop her knees.

"Rhaenyra, look at me." Still, she refused. With your free hand, you forced her head to face you. "'Nyra, please." With your final plea, her eyes fluttered open, purple iris' glossy from unshed tears. Diamonds under her eyes glistened, carving a path down her cheek as a few stray tears fell. 

"I love you. I have loved you since the day I laid my eyes upon you. I need you to know that to understand the way I feel will never change."

"You don't know that. You cannot predict how you will feel in the future." She was stubbornly arguing, clinging to the last bit of fight she had. Your touch was burning her skin from her humiliation at appearing so weak. 

"No, I may not be able to see the future, but I know how I feel for you, and I know that won't change."

"I can't be hurt again. All my enemies were once friends, and I cannot bear to see the same happen to you. I cannot lose you." Her hand ghosted over your cheek, her hand that was in your grasp interlocking with your fingers. 

"And you will not. I won't betray you as Queen Alicent of Ser Criston or any of the others that left scars on you. What must I do to make you see that?"

Sharply Rhaenyra inhaled, choked sobs raking through her body. "I do not know how to stop it. I am terrified, so terrified. I do not want to be disappointed, not again."

You swallowed thickly, allowing her words to process as your thumbs stroked the palm of her hand. Like the weather outside, you were a tempest of emotions. A blend of sadness, desperation to comfort Rhaenyra, and burning anger towards those at King's Landing who had created these wounds. 

Rhaenyra always had to maintain a strong facade as the heir to the throne, especially with her claim constantly being questioned. But for now, you would be the source of strength she had to be for so many people. 

Rhaenyra continued to cry as you all but cradled her against you.

"Then I promise to do my best to never let that happen, and if it does, and one of us is let down by the other, I'll do my damndest to ensure I am the one that gets hurt."

Rhaenyra was too stunned to speak, the passion behind your words taking her aback. She pulled her head back from your chest to give you a wide-eyed stare.

You were truly in love with her; you'd meant every sleepy promise and quiet confession. The words you spoke hadn't been hasty or impulsive. They were an oath sworn under a canopy of stars with the gods as your witness. Rhaenyra had been a fool to not realize it before. 

"I love you." 

It was all she uttered before her lips were on yours. The kiss was salty from the tears falling from Rhaenyra's eyes, but you didn't mind, more than content to be pulled beneath the waves of her waters. 

This kiss felt different from all the others you'd shared, a show of affection and relief that the cold war waging between you was over. There would be peace, and Rhaenyra could return to her home in your arms. 

It was also more than that; it was also a declaration of devotion between the two of you, as sacred as any wedding. The waters would be rough, and the two of you could never truly be together anywhere other than the privacy of these four walls. Yet it was everything you'd wanted.

Rhaenyra was everything you wanted. 

You returned her fervor, determined to make her feel every word you hadn't spoken. Gently, your tongue slipped past her lips, and you swallowed the small gasp she let out. One hand was on the nape of her neck, keeping her close while the other traced patterns along the curve of her cheek. She tasted like wine and imported berries from the Reach, an intoxicating blend that made your mind grow hazy. 

She pulled back first, only centimeters separating the two of you. Eye to eye, her forehead resting on yours, she breathed in. The tip of her nose brushed against yours as you panted. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. How could you possibly forgive me," Rhaenyra spoke with as much reverence as a Sept reciting sacred prayers. 

"Because I love you," you spoke, lips brushing over hers. "I love you, and I will continue to do so until the end of my days." 

"I do not deserve you." 

You cupped her cheek in such a soft and delicate fashion. She was a work of art, and you'd handle her with the care she deserved. 

"You deserve so much more than you've been given, 'Nyra. I cannot give you much, but I will give you all my love; I can promise you that. I will never betray you, I will never leave you, and I will never, ever stop loving you."

She breathed out a laugh, a sweet smile on her swollen lips that were bruised from the kiss you'd shared. "And I promise you that when I am named Queen, I will make a new order and marry you, proprietary be damned. I want you, and I will have you. No court, army, or god could stop me."

There was a glow on your face, her words making you feel as high as the heavens. The smile on your face would never be wiped off. Truth rang in Rhaenyra's words, and you knew they weren't pretty promises to make you feel all light and giggly. 

"Do not start a war for me," you muttered in a playful tone, undoing the plait you had done so you could card your fingers through her hair.

"I would burn down the entire world for you." She spoke with such devotion it made your cheeks flush pink.

"Perhaps we start with you kissing me again." 

And Rhaenyra complied with your request, over and over again, determined to make up for the hurt she inflicted.