#he’d do it for any of them in less then a heartbeat

[moominpopzz]

Thinking about Dakota’s need to help everyone, thinking about Ashe needing help getting used to her body again

[inkedinshadows]

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Azriel × reader

A/N: so here it is, my first Azriel fic! I'm so excited to share this and I hope you all enjoy it too.

Summary: The bond snapped for Azriel the moment he saw her, thrown into the Cauldron with Elain and Nesta. Now, he wants to help her as she struggles to cope with what happened.

Warnings: angst, ptsd, mention of pain and drowning

Word count: 3.6k

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It had been one week since Y/N was kidnapped and thrown into the Cauldron. One week since Azriel had found his mate. Even bloodied, with an arrow in his chest, only barely conscious, he’d taken one heavy-lidded look at her and just known.

He’d awoken three days later, still a bit weak but finally able to stand up, to walk. To go see her.

For four days now, Azriel had brought a tray of food to her room, asked her if she needed anything, and told her not to hesitate to tell someone if she did. Sometimes she would shake her head or answer in a whisper with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’. Sometimes she would just look at him, though it was as if she couldn’t really see him. But most often, she would keep staring at the wall or out the window, not showing any sign that she even realized he’d walked in.

Azriel knew she was struggling. Mor and Rhys had gotten even less of a reaction out of her. Cassian was still healing. Elain and Nesta were trying to adapt as well, each in their own way, and though Y/N was their sister’s friend, neither of the girls had asked to see her. Nor her them, for that matter. So Azriel had taken it upon himself to check on her a couple of times every day.

He knocked gently on her door, waiting for an answer that didn’t come. But she wasn’t sleeping, his shadows confirmed that. Despite his initial protest, a few tendrils had slipped away from his control and now lingered in the darker corners of her room. He’d thought it a violation of her privacy, but she was his mate and she was struggling, and a part of him was glad that his shadows would keep an eye on her. Were eager to, was more like it. So he’d let them.

Azriel pushed the door open and was not surprised to find Y/N sitting in front of the window. It was either that or she’d be curled up on her bed. This time, though, her gaze slid toward him as he took a step inside, and when their eyes met for even just a second, his heart raced in his chest.

“Hello, Azriel,” she said quietly, and her soft voice pronouncing his name for the first time was almost enough to bring him to his knees.

“Hi,” he replied, clearing his throat before taking a few steps forward. He stood a few feet from her, afraid he might startle her. She’d spoken to him, had been the first one to do so, and he considered it progress. He wouldn’t ruin it. “I just wanted to check on you.”

His eyes took her in, and he felt the urge, the need, to reach out to her, to take her in his arms and hold her. She’d turned toward the window again, but he could still see the dark circles under her eyes and her haunted expression. Her posture was rigid, her skin pale, her hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. And as he scanned the room, he noticed the tray of food he’d brought her that morning. Untouched.

“You didn’t eat anything,” he added gently, and he had to bite his tongue before he could add ‘again’. She would rarely take one or two bites of food, and it was starting to show. But Azriel knew he couldn’t force her to eat and he was still trying to find a way to convince her.

A few heartbeats passed before Y/N answered, still not looking at him. “I’m not hungry.”

Azriel shoved down his rising frustration. That was not what she needed. But seeing his mate suffer like this, unable to eat, to sleep, and not knowing what to do to help her was driving him crazy.

He debated leaving her alone and maybe go talk to Rhys, asking him whether he knew if there was something else Azriel could do, some kind of help only a mate could provide. That would entail revealing Y/N was his mate, but if it was the only way… besides, his family had probably already understood it. Rhys and Amren, at least.

Azriel looked at her one last time, but she was still staring outside. She’d fallen into her trance once more. He opened his mouth to bid her goodbye, but that’s when he realized it.

Her nightgown. It was the same one she was wearing that morning. And the day before. And the one before that one. He’d never seen her wear anything else, actually. Had she not changed since she’d arrived here?

He frowned, glancing at the drawer before focusing on her again, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. Tentative, almost. “Do you need some clean clothes?”

That got a reaction out of her. She looked down at her nightgown, then at the door that led to the bathroom before finally looking at him. But her eyes dropped as she answered. “I can’t take a bath.”

The words were barely audible even in the silent room, and yet they hit Azriel like a punch to the gut. She couldn’t take a bath. Couldn’t, probably because it brought back memories of the Cauldron. His heart clenched and he had to take a deep breath to calm down and not go back to Hybern to deal with the king all by himself.

His shadows lunged forward as if they wanted to reassure her, but he held them back. He approached her slowly, stopping just in front of her. He crouched down next to her and waited for her to meet his eyes before speaking.

“Let me help,” he said, unable to hide his concern any longer. He wanted to erase that haunted look from her eyes and he’d do anything to make her feel safe and protected again.

“You’re not alone, Y/N,” he continued, his tone gentle. In his mind, he was cursing himself for not having thought she might experience this kind of problem. “I could help you bathe. We can do it at your pace and stop whenever you wish.”

She stared into his eyes and it felt like an eternity passed before she nodded. Relief flooded his chest at her trust, her willingness to finally let someone help her.

Without a word, she stood up and headed for the bathroom. Azriel followed her, his wings tucked in tight behind his back. He had no idea what he was doing, but he knew one thing: he’d do anything in his power to help her, now and forever.

~~~~~~

Y/N watched the water slowly fill the tub. Her heart was already pounding in her chest, but she could feel Azriel next to her and somehow it steadied her.

Being around him was weird. She couldn’t point out what it was exactly that made her feel that way. There was just something about him that made all her senses go on alert, and yet she wouldn’t describe it as an uncomfortable feeling. Not to mention how Azriel was one of the few things she remembered from that day in Hybern. The Cauldron, and him. His body covered in blood, with that arrow protruding from his chest. And the relief she’d felt the first time she saw him walk into her room, healed.

“Y/N?”

She blinked, the tub now filled before her. Azriel said something else, but she wasn’t listening. A frown appeared on her face as she stared down at the water like it was her worst enemy. She guessed it was, in a way. Especially after what had happened when she’d tried to take a bath a few days ago. But Azriel was right. She wasn’t alone now. Maybe this time would be different.

She hadn’t changed her nightgown since she’d been given it a week ago simply because she couldn’t stand the sight of her own body. It didn’t feel like hers anymore. It didn’t look much different from when she was human, other than the arched Fae ears, but now it felt like it was someone else’s. Like it didn’t belong to her.

But she now let it fall off her body, not even noticing the shadows that shot forward to cover her nakedness. She didn’t care. Didn’t care about anything other than that tub and what was about to happen.

With a steadying breath, she climbed inside. The shadows didn’t follow her into the warm water, leaving her completely exposed, and maybe in another situation she would have blushed. Just a week ago, she would have. But now there was only her and the water, reaching up almost to her shoulders, and for the first few moments she thought it was going to be fine.

And then she was in the Cauldron again.

She began shaking as the dark water rose and rose, and it was now at her neck, and she knew it’d soon reach her mouth and her nose, and then it’d submerge her and the pain would begin. Every cell in her body was yelling at her to get out, to swim toward the surface, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.

She could hear a muffled voice coming from outside the Cauldron, but she couldn’t make out the words. The world was quickly disappearing, the water rising, and she was trapped, trapped under the surface, trapped in the darkness. Soon she’d feel that excruciating pain again, as if her body was being ripped apart, slowly and thoroughly.

Tears were streaming down her face and she sobbed, drawing her legs close to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She began to rock back and forth and maybe she was begging for it to stop, to never start, maybe she was screaming or calling out for someone, maybe she wasn’t saying anything at all.

As that dark freezing water closed above her and pulled her under, she knew the pain would come soon. And there was nothing she could do to stop it. She was drowning and there was nothing she could do, nothing she could do, nothing she could…

A tender, gentle touch on her cheek. From far away, someone called her name. And among the chaos, the darkness, the crippling fear, she saw a pair of hazel eyes, soft and yet concerned. A male voice assuring her that she was safe, that he was with her.

She wanted to believe that voice, but the water was pulling her under, cold and dark and terrifying. But that gentle voice was still talking to her, those hazel eyes still looking into hers, and she tried to hold on to them, to not let it all slip away.

And then someone took her hand and suddenly she felt something thumping beneath her palm. A heartbeat, she realized. Life.

Heartbeat meant life. Not death, not pain.

Life.

“Breathe with me, Y/N.”

She didn’t know where the voice was coming from, how it could sound so clear and close when she was drowning in the depths of the Cauldron.

“One breath in, one breath out.”

That heartbeat was steady, the voice gentle, those hazel eyes still in front of her. Like a light in the dark. She had to reach them, somehow.

“Can you do it for me, Y/N?”

She didn’t know if she could, but she wanted to. Her lungs were full of water and she was drowning, dragged down and down in the endless pit of the Cauldron, pain tearing her apart as she sank. But the voice never stopped. It kept telling her she was safe, asking her to stay with him, to breathe with him. And so she did, following his instructions.

One breath in, one breath out.

She stared into those beautiful eyes.

One breath in, one breath out.

She focused on that heart beating against her palm.

One breath in, one breath out.

The Cauldron disappeared. She blinked, and Azriel was there. He was kneeling next to the tub, his hands holding hers against his chest, on his heart. There was a small smile on his face.

“That’s it, Y/N. You’re doing great,” he said, his tone reassuring and soothing. “You’re here with me. You’re safe now. No one will harm you, I promise.”

She had stopped shaking and rocking, but tears were still running down her cheeks. Azriel just kept murmuring praises and reassurances, his eyes never leaving hers. And finally, after what felt like hours, she stopped crying.

She watched as Azriel wiped away her tears, as he leaned in to brush a kiss on her forehead. “You’re alright,” he whispered, and she believed him, but her eyes never left him.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? You’re doing great, Y/N,” he continued, his voice low and soothing.

She didn’t stop him when he picked up a sponge, poured some scented soap on it, and then began to pass it over her arm, his touch light and careful as if he was afraid of hurting her. But even if he wasn’t looking at her anymore, she kept her eyes on his face and her hand pressed against his chest. She still needed to feel his heartbeat, his breathing, so that she could sync it with her own.

But slowly, as Azriel passed the sponge on her arms, her shoulders, her back, she began to relax. He’d pulled her back to reality and he was now washing her with such gentleness, as if she were the most precious thing in the world.

“Azriel…” she murmured, her hand finally falling away from his chest. She could breathe on her own now, though a bit shakily.

He paused mid-scrub, his sponge on her neck. “I’m here, Y/N,” he said as he met her eyes. “Are you alright?”

She didn’t know how to answer that question. She wasn’t alright, but she was better than before. And this time, thanks to him, she hadn’t spent hours trapped in the tub, only to bolt out once she’d regained control, without having even touched the soap. Even now, though, she had to fight to keep the fear at bay.

“No,” she murmured. Once again, Azriel’s presence made her feel comfortable enough to share that truth and let herself be vulnerable. It was like an innate feeling in her chest, encouraging her to trust him.

She saw the concern in his eyes as she answered and how he seemed to tense a little, but he didn’t comment on it. Instead, he offered her the sponge and gestured vaguely to her body, as if to tell her to take over the task. “I’ll wash your hair.”

Before she could say anything, he was already moving behind her and filling a jug with water. While she finished washing her body, Azriel took care of her hair, a hand shielding her forehead and her eyes. She didn’t know if it was just a random precaution or if he could somehow sense that getting water on her face would bring back the memories of the Cauldron. Something told her it was the latter.

She even went as far as closing her eyes, relaxing slightly under his gentle care.

~~~~~~

Azriel felt her relax, and a small smile appeared on his lips as he continued to rinse her hair.

He'd seen the terror and horror seize her body and her mind, his heart breaking at the sight and at the sound of her weak voice just repeating the word ‘please’ over and over. She'd been so lost in it that he couldn't reach her, and he'd been about to pick her up and out of the tub when he'd had an idea and decided to try one last thing. Fortunately, his heartbeat worked, and he was proud of her for pushing through and coming back to reality. Back to him.

Once her hair was clean, she looked so relaxed that Azriel just wanted to make her feel like that for a little longer. He picked up the comb and started to run it through her hair, making sure no tangles remained.

She stirred a bit but didn't say anything. He was glad he could help her now, at least. When she'd been shoved into the Cauldron, he was so hurt and weak that he couldn't do anything more than take one little step in her direction before his brothers held him back.

“I'm all done,” he said after a few minutes, breaking the comfortable silence they'd fallen into. “Would you like to stay here a bit longer?”

She shook her head and immediately rose from the tub, her body dripping water. Azriel made sure to have his shadows cover her nakedness again as he offered her a towel, but it still wasn't enough to prevent his heart from pounding in his chest.

Though it stopped as soon as she stepped out of the tub, and he noticed the tears in her eyes.

“Y/N, what's wrong?” he asked. Maybe he'd gone too far, maybe he'd done something wrong or overstepped in some way. But she had seemed so calm and relaxed till a few moments ago…

She took a step toward him and reached out, gently taking his hand. “I… I just don't know how to thank you,” she murmured, and Azriel felt relief wash over him. “What you've just done for me, I… I can't thank you enough for it.”

Azriel smiled, then. A reassuring, soft smile as he gave her hand a tender squeeze. “You don't need to. You needed help, and I'm glad I was the one who could offer it to you.”

She didn't look convinced, but she nodded anyway and stepped back, releasing his hand. “Thank you, Azriel.”

He wanted to tell her, then. That he'd always be there for her, whatever she needed, because she was his mate and he couldn't stand to see her suffer. But he couldn't tell her, not now, not when she was still so vulnerable.

Instead, he replied, “I told you. You don't have to thank me.”

Azriel wanted to wipe away her tears, to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. He wanted to make all her fears and worries disappear. And maybe one day they could get there. For now, he just gave her another smile. “I’ll let you get dressed. But if you need anything else, please let me know. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help.”

He began to walk out and toward her room’s door, his shadows lingering close to her for a second before they drifted back to their master. And as his hand grabbed the handle, he heard her soft voice calling him once more.

“Azriel?”

He turned back to her. She was standing in the bathroom doorway, still wrapped in the towel, and she was chewing on her lower lip, as if not sure she should continue. When she didn’t say anything, he stepped away from the door. “Yes, Y/N?”

It took her one more moment before she finally answered. “I’d like to sleep, but I… I usually can’t, with all the nightmares. But I’m so tired and I thought…” She paused and he could see she was getting embarrassed. He’d just helped her bathe and she hadn’t shied away, but now she was nervous about whatever she was going to ask? He tilted his head, not sure where this was going, and she continued. “I feel like I can trust you, like I’m safe with you. And after what you did for me, I thought… would you mind staying with me a bit longer? Just until I fall asleep, I promise.”

Her words were so unexpected that he didn’t react at first. Helping her bathe had been his idea, and she’d just agreed. But knowing her trust was enough for her to ask this, that he made her feel safe after everything she’d been through… it warmed his heart.

She must have misunderstood his silence, because she began babbling. “Or not, I guess. I’m sorry, I wasn’t… I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just thought… I shouldn’t have taken for granted you would–”

“Y/N,” Azriel interrupted, taking one step toward her. “I don’t mind. I’d gladly stay, if that’s what you want.”

A hint of a smile graced her lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he answered, his breath catching at the sight of that first tiny, shy smile. “You can trust me, and you are safe with me.” He gestured toward her dresser. “Now get changed. You deserve some rest.”

She nodded and Azriel made sure to look out the window as she put on a clean nightgown. He then moved the chair she’d been sitting on earlier close to her bed and watched her climb under the sheets. Even pale and tired, she looked beautiful, with her damp hair spread out on the pillow.

“I know you said I don’t have to,” she murmured, her eyes scanning his face, “but I’ll never thank you enough for this.”

Azriel just smiled. “Try to sleep, Y/N. Don’t worry about that.”

She curled up into herself, her eyes closing, yet she still whispered one more thing. “Just until I fall asleep. Then you can go.”

“I know.”

Now that she couldn’t see them, his shadows seized the opportunity to leave his side and curled through her hair, as if they too found it hard to keep away. He didn’t try to stop them or make them fall back, not when her expression relaxed even more and her breathing became slow and deep.

He wanted to be there, in case she’d wake up because of the nightmares she’d mentioned. So even long after she’d fallen asleep, Azriel kept watch over his mate.

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Read part 2 here!

[temis-de-leon]

Demon Brothers realizing their feelings for reader

Characters: Mammon, Levi, Satan, Asmo and Beel (x reader, separately)

Main Masterlist

Part 2 , Part 3 , Dateables version

Requested by Romance Anon

A/N: just like in the dateables version, this feels like an extra to the other parts, so definitely check them out. Hope you enjoy this! Even if they're a little ooc...

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Mammon

Saying that Mammon gets no respect in his own house is a given. He’s a joke amongst his brothers, a fool who only seeks metallic sheen; guilty until proven innocent.

Bluffing and throwing empty threats around is his way of maintaining at least some of his remaining dignity, even if no one buys it.

So when you, a weak dumb human, are put under his responsibility, his priority is making clear who’s in charge.

He shows his fangs and talks harshly, wasting no time in letting you know how unimportant you are to him and how many things he could and will do to you if you disobey his orders or ignore his requests.

Of course he’ll rummage through your room and see if he can sell something of yours, but soon his visits become too frequent and soon he lacks his treasure-hunting mindset.

Mammon doesn’t know what to think about the disappointment he feels when he opens the door and you’re not there, when he hears your voice in the living room talking to someone else or when you’re partnered with some faceless demon in class projects.

He keeps the insults to try and compensate for the weakness that falling in love with you carries. You have to see it, how could you not? And even if you don’t, his brothers’ little jests would give you enough hints.

It’s maddening, having you so close and so out of reach at the same time; but maybe, surely, that is his fault.

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Leviathan

It’s so unfair.

Why does he have to be the Avatar of Envy when he is clearly the least everything among his brothers?

Well, perhaps he’s better than Mammon at some things, but still.

He knows he isn’t as imposing as Lucifer or as pretty as Asmo and he doesn’t even want to compare himself to Beel; he still remembers them all criticizing his hermit habits and his consequential soft tummy.

Staying inside his room is, undeniably, the best way to protect himself from his sin. It’s a sanctuary made for him, Henry and all of his prized possessions; he doesn’t need anything else.

And then he meets you.

You don’t force him out of his room, which makes it easier for him to come out on his own, and you don’t mock his interests either. You are empathetic, eager to explore, fun to be around… All in all, being close to you makes him feel lighthearted.

Levi cherishes you so much it doesn’t take him too long to want you as close to him as possible.

Where are you? With who? Why? Were you having a good time? Better than the moments you’ve shared with him? Do you miss him? He has something to show you, so hurry up!

He notices the change in his heart the moment you make him blush for the first time, heartbeat so fast it makes his chest tremble.

It is somewhat hopeless; he knows you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way. Why would you?

No, he’d rather not go through that pain; he’s happy being just your friend.

At least, that’s what he tells himself.

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Satan

You fascinate him.

Not like a book or a painting would, much less a cat, but like a mystery. He doesn’t understand you and that angers and fascinates him in equal amounts; it makes him want to investigate you further than he would with any other person.

He observes, taking you in as neutrally as possible, and marvels at the way you prove wrong everything he thinks he knows about humans and what he assumes about you based on that knowledge.

When he lashed his tail and bared his teeth, back then, in the darkness of his room when he still thought so lowly of you, you stood up to him and didn’t move an inch. Clearly afraid, but not backing up, facing him with determination.

You’d later tell him it was adrenaline, which picks his interest further.

His privacy is his own and he still enjoys spending time alone in his room or out in the city doing his own thing, but the desire to keep your company for himself every hour of the day grows stronger by the second.

Smiling at the mere sight of you, hearing the pounding of his heart in his ears and impatiently waiting for his phone to light up and show your name on the screen are just some of the many new changes your presence in his life has brought.

The more he feels, the more he sees himself in his novels. Whether the narrative is in his favour or not, he doesn’t know, but he’s enjoying every bit of it.

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Asmodeus

Being called beautiful is for him as usual and natural as breathing air and drinking water, but that doesn’t mean it goes under the radar. While he lives in abundant loving words and adoring phrases, there’s never enough to satisfy him and he works hard to keep the flattery coming his way.

His body is a temple he vows to maintain and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to carry that promise.

A sleep schedule that helps his hair grow, clears his skin and makes his mind feel lighter and happier; makeup and clothes carefully selected to enhance his attractiveness; and nails perfectly filed and painted multi-coloured to express his versatility. 

Of course, not all of him is based on looks. You can’t feed a fan club just solely on a picture!

He has a Deviltube channel where he engages with his beloved followers, parties to interact with them as well and other, more intimate, reunions that bring them all impossibly closer.

He thinks, rightfully so, that no one could ever come close to what he has achieved over time.

Then again, you always manage to surprise him.

While not as beautiful as him, there’s something about you that makes it impossible for him to stop admiring you and drinking in your entire presence.

It’s not just your face or your body, or the clothes you wear or how you do your makeup if you even decide to put it on. It’s your heart and your soul and the way you make him feel more loved than anyone could’ve ever done before.

There’s not a single ounce of jealousy in his eyes whenever he looks at you. You’re not competition, but part of him.

Finally, someone to share the spotlight with.

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Beelzebub

A common misconception people tend to believe about him is his lack of emotional capacity, although he can understand his mostly speechless and stern demeanour and his food-driven actions don’t help at all.

His mind is usually focused on one thing and one thing only and that is filling his everlasting empty stomach. How can he concentrate on anything else when its growls are easily compared to Cerberus’s roars? When he salivates until he drools or when the aching need to consume something makes his vision turn red.

While it’s sometimes difficult for him to think straight or “read the room”, as Levi says, he’s well aware of what he feels at every moment of the day. Hunger is the usual answer, but there’s also love and protection for his family and, lately, for you as well.

It’s a different type of love, one he doesn’t feel often, but he recognizes it nonetheless and accepts it as quietly as he would with any other emotion, although his reddened cheeks and darkened glance speak volumes.

He loves you and wants you deeply, there’s no doubt about that, but he won’t act on it on impulse. As delicious as he thinks you’d be, you’re not some sort of candy ready to be chewed on in mere seconds.

Beel is impatient when it comes to his needs, yes, but he’s willing to wait for you.

Sometimes, the best meals are the ones being left to rest.

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Taglist: @ilovecandys2010 @ollieoven @kingofspadesdelusion @whimsybloom

[risuola]

IV — EPIPHANY // Sukuna thought nothing can break him. He's powerful, he has influence and means to always come on top – or at least that's what he thought, because now he realized that he's nohing but weak.

contents: angst, blood, usage of weapon, reader discretion is advised — 2,6k words

a/n: in this part i wanted to give you a little insight into Sukuna's persona. show the menace in him, show the threat and how he is when he's not influenced by weakness that is our precious y/n (aka when he's not confused as hell by what's happening in his heart). i rewrote this part four times before i was finally somewhat satisfied with it.

ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ | masterlist

You are safe with me.

Sukuna thought about the words with hilarity. The sentence so simple and kind, it felt foreign to realize that his own mouth allowed it out of his system. An odd sort of disdain washed over himself and he found it laughable that throughout his entire career of blood and murder, what made his blood pressure raise up was a lie he told you. A strangely comic amalgamation of letters and syllables that each time he thought of them made him more angry and more amused.

You were safe, technically, or maybe that’s what he wished to believe when he replayed the events of one very unlucky Sunday evening in his memory. It began lovely, too lovely in fact, but he chose to actively ignore the oddity of it – he came to terms with how easily you were able to render his senses useless whenever you came into the field of his view wearing something as pretty as the dress you picked for the date that day. It was in a shade of pink that you deemed similar to the color of his hair, a dusty rose, you called it, and Sukuna wasn’t sure exactly how much truth was that, but he couldn’t care less about it when you looked so drop dead gorgeous. When he watched you walking next to him through the crowded alleys in the park nearby your apartment building, he couldn’t help but notice only you in the mass of people around him. He felt like a teenager in a way, with his heartbeat drumming against his ribcage with pace similar of this after sprinting for long time. You were capable of triggering reactions in his body that he thought were long gone with the days of his youth but he was fine with it. As long as he could witness your beauty, he was fine with everything.

Sukuna laughed gravelly as the sequence of memories played in his mind – the dark sound of his voice causing two police officers outside the bars of his cell to tremble. Oh, how much he hated you and your stupidly breathtaking face for whatever the hell you did to him. If he could, he would tell you what he thinks of it right now and if not careful enough, he might tell you a little too much. Confess maybe. Yeah, he might do that someday. And maybe move out somewhere where you’d truly be safe. Where he wouldn’t feel like a fucking idiot for saying words that are so damn obviously a lie.

Moving out felt like a good idea. In couple of years, when he’s done ruling the criminal forces, he could take you out of Japan, somewhere far away and protect you from any harm. He’d take you somewhere warm, where he could shamelessly admire the way your skin tone looks under the golden rays of sun and the way your eyes shine and glisten like the most expensive and rare gemstones. The thought of you brought a wide smile to his face, as the picture spread in front of his closed eyelids. In the cold of his cell, he could almost feel the burning touch of your fingers tracing the shapes of his body.

* * *

Sixteen days.

It’s been over two weeks since you last saw Sukuna and it was getting harder and harder to go about your days. You missed him. You missed his face, his strong arms that manhandled you around despite your playful taps and tugs. You missed the huskiness of his voice, the low purrs he made in the morning whenever he’d nuzzle his nose against your temple inhaling the scent of your skin that he swore he was addicted to. And above all, you were worried and restless, and scared.

Whenever you closed your eyes, your mind was flooded with memories of the Sunday date you went on with Ryomen. He picked you up and handed you a little bag filled with your favorite mochi – the ones stuffed with fresh strawberries and whipped cream, a delicacy made in only one place in Tokyo and you remember how your heart swelled with warmth and love when you realized he had driven to that shop on the other side of the city just to get you few pieces of sweets. He was wearing his usual, black dress pants and a leather belt, perfectly polished boots and a dark grey sweater that made him look both casual and dangerous, with the tattoos around his wrists exposed under the rolled-up sleeves and his sharp features, that somehow whenever were turned towards you seemed a little bit softer.

You felt like a princess next to him, you felt loved and protected with his large hand enveloping your smaller one in his warm embrace. It was perfect. It was perfect until–

You didn’t exactly pick up what happened and how it happened. Even now as you think of it, you can’t truly recall how that tale-like evening turned into a mess that led you to lose your sleep every night that followed. It was a flash. One second you were leaning into Sukuna’s palm, greedy to steal his warmth and love and next one you were pushed tightly against his chest behind a bench. His hand, that was embracing you with as much delicacy as one would use to touch a doll made of porcelain was suddenly pressed harshly to the side of your head, covering your ear. Someone was shooting, Ryomen was shooting. You felt the impact of each bullet being extracted from his weapon. Each one of the subtle shakes of his muscular body reverberated throughout your smaller frame. You heard guns, despite his effort to protect your eardrums, but the loud explosive sound mixed with screams of people around was loud and clear in your head. An echo of danger and violence that you witnessed firsthand even though the man that held you did everything he could to protect you from the event.

You remember vividly the moment Sukuna groaned and cussed lowly. It followed a soft tremble of his large body and at first you didn’t realize what happened, but then you felt the unexpected wet warmth on one of your hands. “It’s fine, don’t worry,” he was telling you over and over again as your eyes began to water at the realization that one of your palms was covered in blood. His blood.

“It’s just a scratch,” he was lying to you, but you didn’t know it was a lie until you saw him later. The magazine in his gun was empty sooner than you thought it will be and the foreign shooting continued. It seemed like there were few attackers, but you couldn’t tell where all of it was coming from. All you remember was that you stayed hidden in the large body of your lover for the entire time until the police sirens broke the scene.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered to him, doing everything in your power to hold back sobs, as he kept you close to himself. You knew that police couldn’t be good for him and if not for you, he would most likely run away somehow, but he stayed there, behind the bench, holding you tightly and making sure not a single bullet could land on your fragile body.

He didn’t look mad, not even annoyed, when he was telling you what to do next and how to act in the face of what was to come, and even though you had the hardest time registering it through the immense fear you felt regarding his future, you were nodding. He was calm, and you thought that he stayed calm for you because the scene of shooting was enough of a distress for you already. And then, you saw him in handcuffs, with his hands shackled behind his back, guided towards the police car. Cops that were responsible for escorting him looked almost funny next to his towering frame and if he only wanted, he would quite easily throw those officers away. But he didn’t. And he didn’t do it to save you.

You remember the last time you saw him he sent you a smile, more so a smirk, when one of those cops harshly pushed his head down, making sure he got into the car. Few moments later, he was gone and you were left with the mess of the crime scene and the burden of a witness.

Later, you were informed by one of his pawns that it’s not gonna take long, but you knew that things were serious because few days slowly turned into a week and then two weeks and he still was in jail. And you couldn’t go visit him because he said so. You stayed in his house, safe and sound in the bed you always shared with him, except now you were alone and cold. You missed him. And you were worried.

It killed you inside to think Sukuna might face charges. A life sentence, most likely. There was only so much that you knew about his criminal past and you were sure that he kept many secrets from you, that he wanted to save you from the heavy burden of his misdeeds and cruelty. You knew how dangerous his lifestyle was, how dark was the path he chose to fallow and you knew that even someone as strong as him couldn’t escape the jurisdiction forever. But why now?

You couldn’t shake off the devastating feeling of emptiness whenever you wandered between the luxurious interiors of his mansion. It felt like you couldn’t stop worrying, day in and day out you were thinking if he was alright. Was he properly fed? He told you that he won’t contact you while in jail to protect you, but all you wished for was just to hear his voice. You were worried about the way authorities treat criminals of his sort. What will they do to him? The mere thought of torture or interrogation filled you with dread and anxiety. You never felt so alone and helpless.

* * *

It took too long.

In fact, detention took much longer than Sukuna anticipated but time behind the bars was nothing but an entertainment for him. It was amusing, it allowed him to let loose. Surrounded by an air of sadistic satisfaction he didn’t get to experience in years, he played game of pushing and pulling, a game of power. Despite being enclosed and surrounded by dozens of officers and guards, Sukuna had a sense of control over his situation, and it amused him. He was enjoying the misery that he caused others, relished in the fact that he was feared and hated. It made him almost giddy. There was a twinkle in his eye and a playful grin on his lips, he relished the experience.

“I’ve got few questions to you.”

He smirked, sitting smug and relaxed. For the nth time he was questioned; a futile attempt of getting information out of him, yet another display of the illusionary power that authorities thought they had but lacked severely. It made Ryomen laugh out loud each time he sat against a new face, it pleased him, he loved the feeling of having the interrogator’s full attention. Detectives that tried to enforce the law onto him looked tough, each one of them, until they dropped their weight onto the metal chair in the interrogation room. The heaviness of the sinister aura was unnerving to anyone who dared to approach and the criminal enjoyed breaking them one by one.

“Do you?” Sukuna spoke, his voice low and menacing, but bearing a thrill of amusement and excitement. The heavy chains that grounded his frame clinked as he moved just slightly and the shiver that went down the spine of the man in front of him did not escape his watchful eye. “Afraid?”

“Hardly,” a tone of false confidence responded to the question and Ryomen chuckled. To him, this was a game, and he was winning. He found joy in annoying the interrogator, knowing that he couldn’t get anything out of him. It was stimulating, it was fun. It was a game of cat and mouse. It felt euphoric to answer the questions, knowing that his words were confusing, that he was able to mess with the man’s head, make him question his own judgement.

Years and years of being on the top of mafia managed to clear his memory of being vulnerable and the caricature of it that he was now experiencing served for a nice refresher. He felt excitement to play with the law and as he sat there, restrained by metal bounds, he realized why he became a criminal in the first place. The constant chase of thrill and power was what made him who he was.

As the detective sat there, intimidated more and more with each passing second, Sukuna watched the disaster unraveling with a dark glint in his eyes. He enjoyed every moment of the tension and knew that chills were running down the spine of his current opponent. He was imposing, savoring the fear and the exquisite feeling of danger that surrounded him. It was intoxicating, it made him feel alive. He played with the interrogator as if the predator would play with its pray, he stared at him with a small grin of pure evil.

“You’ve been stubborn this whole time,” the officer said, clearing his throat and straightening his spine to make himself appear bigger but to Ryomen, he was merely a source of amusement. The criminal stayed relaxed and leaned forward, slowly closing the distance between his own face of death and the eyes of the person in front of him.

“Was I stubborn?” He questioned, his tone low and menacing and his lips stretched slowly, baring the teeth. “You’ve got me all chained up and still, you can’t get your job done?”

“You’re chained up because of the potential threat you might pose.”

Sukuna laughed. A raspy and low chuckle came from his throat; a dark omen that hung heavy in the air as if signifying the upcoming danger. It was cold and malicious, an ominous showcase of his real persona, of someone who has no compassion and knows no mercy. He felt a twisted sense of satisfaction at the sight of sweat running down the face of the man in front of him. He exuded an aura of fear, leaving everyone in the room unsettled.

“If I only wanted to, I could rip out your throat with my bare teeth.” Ryomen’s voice was low, it was quiet and nearly whisper like but the message it carried was more than enough to freeze the blood inside the veins of the interrogator.

“I assume you’re familiar with the idea of good cop bad cop method,” the man spoke again after a moment of dread. He cleared his throat once more, squared up his jaw.

“And which one are you?”

“Oh, I’m neither, but allow me to show you something,” interrogator reached to the inside pocket of his coat, pulling out a phone with his sweaty palms and pressing down few buttons.

The moment Sukuna looked down on the screen, his expression changed. A ghost of anger washed over his features as he took in the picture. Suddenly, he felt a wave of burning hot filling his veins and reaching his face; a dizzying sensation of dread and rage and then he realized that the power he wielded was nothing. With his eyes fixed on the little phone and his jaw clenched, shaken by the rush of adrenaline and with his knuckles white, Sukuna Ryomen experienced acknowledgement. An epiphany of sorts. The illusion of might and influence burst like a bubble made of soap and slowly he realized that he’s nothing but–

“Seeing something familiar?”

–weak.

taglist: @yihona-san06 @tiredscavengerskeleton @son4aras @vixorell @cecesharktales @isleqt @thickmacandcheese @captainchrisstan @bbylime @sad-darksoul @shartnart1 @kiki17483 @grimreaqueer @phoenix-eclipses @fan-of-encouragement @valleydoll @aleeeeeeees-stuff @marifujioka @going-to-californiaxx @just-pure-trash @edenofeve @impulsivethoughtsat2am @thigh-o-saur @heyohalie @matchat3a @bubblearts @littlemisspropaganda @aconstructofamind @lawislife18 @rzcnlb @sunukissed @b3llair3 @lzaj19 @sanzusforeverwife @annshz, @mrs--imperfect @kaminari-no-ritsusha @gojos-princesa @burpzz

[sandwhitches]

Hello! For you summer writing event, may I request a cherry popsicle with sakusa, osamu and kuroo and falling asleep on their shoulder on a bus/train?

a/n: one of my favorite tropes hehehe. thanks for requesting and enjoy!!

genre: fluff

content: gn. reader, all of them are pining messes

wc: 676

this is a part of my summer writing event!!! please feel free to send some requests my way :3

𝐒𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐒𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐌𝐈

Sakusa wonders how he’s managed to amass such a crush on you, impossible to ignore, it slowly eats away at his sanity with each time he sees your face but can’t kiss it. But this? This takes the cake. How long can a person go without needing to breathe? Kiyoomi asks himself that as he tenses under an unexpected weight on his shoulder, his lungs have suddenly forgotten what they were made for it seems. 

Cautiously, his eyes dart down to affirm what he already knows. Your face has never looked easier to kiss all over than it does now, peaceful with the slumber he’s been watching you trying to stave off since getting on the train.

Now you’ve done it, you’re killing him without even needing to be conscious to do so, nothing less of what he’d expect given how he’s been head over heels in silence for too long. 

Swallowing thickly, Kiyoomi makes an effort to lower his shoulders a bit, hoping you won’t wake with a sore neck. This can be okay, he thinks, he may very well die like this if he can’t figure out how to breathe, and maybe he won’t be so upset about whatever happens as long as you stay close to him like you are now. 

𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

“Isn’t yer stop comin’-” Osamu’s breath catches in his throat as he’s interrupted by the foreign feeling of your warm body pressed up against his. You can’t possibly be asleep, can you? He can practically hear his own heartbeat as his eyes are met with the most beautiful sight he’s sure he’ll ever get the privilege to see.

Your upcoming stop is now long lost on Osamu, who has since leaned his head gently atop yours, trying to time his breaths with the rise and fall of your own chest. If he could choose one moment to stay in forever, this might be the one, he thinks.

A nervous hand drapes over the one you’d planted on his knee in a half-asleep haze, roughened fingers brush over the soft back of your palm, and Osamu is asking himself what good deed he’s done in his life to deserve this. 

There's a taste of something new on his tongue, the sugary weight of words he wishes to shower you in: confessions, secrets, desires. It’s funny, and his opinion, a bit pathetic, that this is all it takes for him to start dreaming so ardently over the rest of your lives.

In that moment, Osamu feels as if the only reason he was put on this earth was for you to lean on like you are now, for him to do anything in his power to spark even the smallest of joys in your heart. 

𝐊𝐔𝐑𝐎𝐎 𝐓𝐄𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐎

It’s an absolute mystery to Kuroo how you can manage to doze off like this on such a crowded train. Squeezed into a tight corner at the end, he’s beginning to lose his mind over the fact that he can hear the airy breaths you let out so slowly.

While he’s still grappling with the fact that you’ve fallen asleep, he’s also trying to ignore that it feels like he’s going to pass out when your head lolls onto his shoulder. 

How can he be cool about this? Kuroo can just barely bolster the wave of nerves he gets when being with you as it is, but this is impossible for him. He cringes at the warmth that spreads across his cheeks, undeniably tinting the apples a blushy red, and he knows it’s obvious to just about anyone on the train who looks his way that he’s suffocating on the dizzying sensation of love. 

The worst part about this? It’s going to be impossible for him to keep his feelings stifled under the guise of camaraderie for any much longer. Now that he knows what it is like to have you so close to him, it’s clear that he wants that as much as he possibly can. Kuroo was doomed from the very start, wasn’t he?

[bucketsofmonsters]

Without Expectation

You know how everyone is talking about how Astarion has a difficult relationship with hero characters bc he felt abandoned by them when he was suffering? What if, during his 200 years of imprisonment, he’d met one? Very much inspired by this post

cw: pre-game astarion, Cazador, prostitution and non-consensual sex alluded to but never shown, healing from trauma, Astarion being sexualized, Astarion sexualizing himself, objectification, blood drinking, he’s kind of sexually aggressive in this but it's just because he’s scared and he doesn’t know anything else, reader is from a group of monster hunters that I made up who have been harassing Cazador, they are separate from any in-game monster hunters who are less Astarion friendly

Astarion x gn reader

Word count: 6k

He was charming. Pretty words, perfect hair, a dashing smile, and hollow eyes. 

The second Cazador had said the word, he was all over you. 

You couldn’t turn down the offer. Not for the promise of pleasure, that was the last thing on your mind looking at him. 

But if you got him alone you could talk to him, outside of the watchful eye of his master. 

He had you pinned to the wall of your bedroom before you could even say a word. You had to shove him back and he stumbled, a frightened, hurt look crossing his face before the practiced charm slipped easily back. 

“Oh, you like to play rough, do you? That’s fine with me, I don’t mind being pushed around a little.”

“Stop,” you pleaded with him. “Please, can I just speak for a second?”

“Say whatever you’d like, darling.”

“Listen… Astarion, wasn’t it?”

He smirked at you. “It is, but you can call me whatever you'd like.”

“Astarion, you don’t have to do this.”

“Of course I don’t. I want to. Don’t you want me?” He moved to get into your space again but you stepped back and he didn’t follow. 

You did your best to push past his flirtation. “How often does he make you do things like this?”

“Like this? Not often. My lovers don’t typically live to see the morning. Although I suppose it doesn’t make much difference to me,” he said with a laugh, one that felt practiced and put on. 

“Oh.” You couldn’t imagine it, being forced to not only be with so many people but to send them off to their deaths night after night. 

Your eyes drifted down as your thoughts spiraled and he grabbed your chin, pulling your face up so your eyes met once more, directing all your attention back to him. “Is that what’s bothering you, darling? I promise Cazador has given me very clear instructions on how well you should be treated.”

“No, that’s not the problem.” You dropped your head into your hands as you tried to figure out what to do. “God, this is such a nightmare. Listen, I can sleep on the couch, you should take the bed,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the loveseat tucked in the corner of the room.

“Come now, that’s not necessary my dear,” he practically purred at you. 

You felt a little more nauseous with every pass he made at you. “You really don’t have to do that, I swear. Not in here at least. It would probably be prudent to pretend in front of Cazador but that’s an issue for tomorrow.”

“Even if you don’t want sex,” he said with a little roll of his eyes. “The couch is not necessary. I promise I won’t bite.”

It was a bad idea. You knew that much. But the bed looked so soft and comfortable and the couch wasn’t even long enough to fit all of you if you tried to lie down. 

You sat on the bed tentatively and sunk into the mattress. It was by far the most comfortable bed you’d ever been in and you ran your hand along the silky sheets. “Alright, but we’ll just be sleeping,” you said with a pointed look in his direction. 

In a heartbeat, you were pushed back onto the mattress and he was looking over you, his hands on either side of your head as he grinned down at you. “Are you certain, my dear? I could make you feel so good.”

“I’m sure you could,” you said with a smile, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes lit up at the contact and it was clear that he thought he’d done it, that he'd won you over. “But that won’t be necessary.”

You leaned up and pressed a kiss into his forehead before gently pushing him off of you back towards his side of the bed. 

He seemed wounded and frightened by the gesture, a far cry from the practiced seduction you’ve seen from him so far. “You don’t want me.”

“I assure you that is not the problem,” you said, careful to keep your voice gentle. 

He did not seem convinced, a tragic vulnerability starting to seep through his facade.

As he stared at you, a worried look plastered across his face, you grabbed some of the many pillows from the top of the bed, placing a few between the two of you. 

He scoffed at the sight. “I don’t know what those are meant to stop. Not exactly impenetrable security against a rabid vampire.”

“They’re not for you. I have a tendency to get… grabby, in my sleep.”

He huffed, folding his arms as he finally conceded ground and laid down next to you. “Good. Maybe you’ll be more interesting than when you are awake.”

You doubted he’d find you snuggling a pillow particularly interesting but you let him interpret your words however he pleased. 

“Perhaps. Now if it’s all the same to you, I’m going to sleep now.”

“It’s not all the same to me, thank you very much.”

“Alright,” you said with a yawn. “Goodnight.”

You woke up with your arms wrapped around a pillow from your little wall, holding it close to your chest as you eased your eyes open to see Astarion unabashedly staring at you. 

He spoke as soon as he caught wind you were awake. “You weren’t kidding about being grabby, you’re practically smothering the poor thing.”

Your face warmed slightly at his words, embarrassment fluttering in your chest. “It’s an old habit. What about you, couldn’t sleep?”

“Elves don’t sleep.”

You suddenly felt incredibly foolish. “Oh. Right. So you’ve just been sitting there all night then?”

“I tranced for a while. It was certainly a more boring night than I expected.”

You yawned as you sat up, setting the pillow you’d been holding behind you. “Terribly sorry to disappoint. Hopefully, there will be many more boring nights in your future.”

He pulled back, cocking his head to the side. “What?”

You realized you hadn’t told him of your little scheme yet. “I was thinking. This whole meeting with Cazador was more of a formality than anything. He’s killed too many of our people, we need to make this deal, at least until we can figure out how to sort him out for good. But he doesn’t know that and maybe, if you’re amiable to it, I could throw in a final term to the deal. Where he has to give me… well, you. Not that you should be his to give, but I figure if I can save someone from this place and I didn’t, what kind of a monster would I be?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you want from me?”

You shrugged. “I’d say nothing if I thought you’d believe me. If you need to rationalize it, let’s just say it’s an ego boost. Now I get to feel like a good person and you get to leave this place. As long as I don’t mess it up too badly.”

Mistrust was written across his face and it seemed like the first completely honest emotion you’d been able to pull from him. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“That’s fine, we can fix that after I get you out of here.” You sighed. “Wish me luck. I’m an awful liar.”

He trailed after you as you left, seemingly incapable of letting you out of his sight. 

Maybe he was. Maybe he’d been ordered to do so. You had no way to tell. It made your heart hurt, the sight of him here, the idea of Cazador’s other spawn that you couldn’t save. At least not yet. 

He followed you like a loyal pup all the way to Cazador, who was lounging in a chair without a care in the world. 

He chuckled at the sight of Astarion behind you. “And how was my spawn? To your satisfaction?”

You swallowed down that bile that rose in you as you said, “He was a delight. I was wondering, in the name of our agreement, is there any way I could keep him? It’s just that I’ve grown quite fond of him so very quickly.”

Cazador laughed, a putrid, callous thing. “I’m sure. He can be quite… convincing. And this would make you amenable to my terms?”

You nodded. “All the monster hunters in Baldur's Gate will focus their attention in… other places. You and yours will be entirely safe from our wrath.”

“And if we’d like to push you in the direction of another creature?”

You gave him a tactful nod. “We could be convinced.”

“Good.” He laughed once more. “Typical monster hunter. You pretend to hate us and yet you want to keep a vampire pet.”

Astarion leaned into your side and you felt a little queasy at the performance as you snaked your arm around him. “Like I said, he was very convincing.”

He sighed. “You drive a hard bargain. As you wish, you shall have your terms. Just tell me if he doesn’t behave. I can get him sorted right out for you.”

It took everything you had not to lunge at him thinking about everything he’d put this poor man through. “Of course, but I’m sure I’ll be able to manage just fine on my own.”

You got out of there as fast as you could. Even if you hadn’t had Astarion with you, you didn’t want to spend any longer than absolutely necessary with the monster. 

You pulled him through the streets back to the house you were staying in, racing against the sun. You barely had enough time to get him there and pull him inside, but you had a feeling he’d prefer this mad dash over staying another day with his master.

Regardless, the whole time your eyes were darting around, looking for places you could hide him should you need to. 

You wondered what you’d even do if it had come to that. Just sit with him for the rest of the day, you supposed, unless he wanted to try a risky maneuver with a thick blanket. 

You tried to pull him inside but it was like an invisible wall had stopped him in his tracks. You gave him a questioning look and he grumbled, “You have to invite me.”

“Oh! I’m sorry, come in!”

As soon as the words left your mouth, he rushed in beside you and you set yourself to making sure all of the widows were fully shut, pulling the curtains tight. 

He watched you dart about, tugging at the thick fabric. His gaze was judgemental but at least the emotion seemed genuine. 

As soon as you were mostly certain he wouldn’t burn to death, you turned to him. “We won’t be leaving for a while so you can make yourself at home. If you need anything just let me know, okay?”

You didn’t see him for the whole day. You were busy and he made himself scarce. You couldn’t blame him. You imagined he’d long since made it a habit to avoid being seen by anyone. Anyone except his forced prey, you supposed. But still, he hid away from them, in his own way. 

“Astarion, can you come look at this?” you called out as the sun finally dipped fully below the horizon, hoping he was close enough that he could hear you. And hoping he would come even if he did. 

It took a few minutes but eventually he came sauntering down the stairs. 

“Yes, my dear?”

You grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the window, gesturing out at the carriage that was illuminated by torches alone, shrouded in the thick darkness of the night. “Do you think it’ll be alright? The last thing I want is for you to get hurt.”

He stared out at the carriage you’d spent hours painstakingly attempting to make impenetrable to light. You’d painted the windows black, hung blankets over top of them, shoved old linens in the cracks in the doors. 

He cautiously headed outside, staring at the carriage with furrowed brows. “Did you do this?”

“Yeah, I tested it during the day. It seemed pretty solid but obviously you couldn’t check then. I could bring a torch around the outside if you wanted to check for yourself.”

He looked at you like you were mad. “We could have just traveled at night.”

You shrugged. “It’s a two-day journey and I didn’t want to depend on inns and shelter along the road to protect you during the day. This seemed safer.”

He opened the door, sitting inside and looking around at the painstakingly covered windows and cracks, and you couldn’t tell if he seemed uncomfortable because he was worried about the sun or because of the sheer amount of effort you’d clearly put into it. 

“Do you want anything for the ride?” you asked, pushing forward. “Some books or something? I could go get them for you.” 

“Your company is all I could ask for.”

“Okay, but for real though. Never mind, I’ll just get you some books.” You doubted you’d be able to pull an honest answer from him for a very long time, if at all. 

After a frenzied book run, the two of you were ready to head off, locking yourselves inside the carriage until the sun set once more. 

The bumps of the carriage jostled the two of you as you rode. The flickering orange light of two lanterns, one for each of you, barely illuminated the darkened space and you couldn’t help but feel a little claustrophobic. 

He was sitting, staring at you, book untouched on his lap. 

You’d brought as many options as you could think of, romance novels, epics, history, a horticultural book that had pulled a snort and an incredulous look from him when he’d seen it. 

He didn’t seem much in the mood for reading and under his unblinking gaze, neither were you. Instead, you stared at the painted-over window, wishing there was anything else you had to look at in the dim light. 

“Admiring your paint job?” he asked with a chuckle as you continued to refuse to meet his unblinking gaze. 

“Something like that.” You decided to take the broken silence as an opportunity. Anything was better than being silently stared at and you weren’t sure you’d get a better chance to ask him. “Can I ask you something that’s potentially insensitive?”

He smirked at you with that practiced allure. “Ask away.”

“Were you one of his favorites? Cazador's, I mean.”

He scoffed. “In a way. He loved torturing me more than anyone else.”

You leaned forward. “So it might be easier to convince him to part with the others?”

His eyes narrowed at you and you watched as he tried once again to figure out what your angle was. “You’ve got a real bleeding heart, don’t you?”

“We’ve been unable to hurt him for so long, failed at it for years and years. Every day you were there was because we weren’t good enough at what we did. I can’t help it, I feel a little responsible for you. For all of you.”

“Oh please,” he said with a roll of his eyes. “Like I’m not one of the monsters you hunt.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Why would you be? Who have you hurt?”

He laughed a cold, cruel laugh. “Darling, you have no idea how many people I’ve hurt.”

“You haven’t though. Cazador hurt people through you, sure. But you didn’t hurt anyone, not really. You’re a victim just as much as they were. At least we managed to save some of them.”

He squirmed in his seat. “I think they might disagree.”

You shrugged, something delicate in his eyes telling you not to push. “Maybe.”

The rest of the ride was completed in silence, not only fueled by your discomfort but now also Astarion’s irritation with you. 

Your driver gave a knock on the door as the sun disappeared, just as you’d instructed him to, and you opened it to find a quaint little inn surrounded by woods in front of you. 

He left to take care of the horses and you led Astarion inside, securing two rooms for the three of you. In a perfect world you would’ve gotten Astarion his own room, but his vampirism wasn’t exactly subtle and you couldn’t help but worry that some overzealous patron of this establishment might take it upon themself to rid the inn of the supposed monster. 

You led him up to the room you’d be sharing and as you entered, he stood in the doorway and took in the sight. 

You were quick to give him a quiet, “Come in,” but he brushed you off.

“That’s for houses, not individual rooms. I just…there’s two beds.”

You nodded. “Yup. For two people.”

He eyed you suspiciously, as if the two beds might be part of some devious scheme. After a few moments, he seemed to decide it was just a normal room and took the bed nearest the door. 

He seemed paler than he’d been the night before and a horrible thought struck you. “Oh my god, you need to eat! I haven’t been feeding you.”

He chuckled. “Good luck with that, there aren’t many disposable animals out here. At least, not ones you could catch. Unless you want to let me at the horses, but that would leave us in quite the predicament.”

“I mean, you could drink from me. Not everything, obviously, but I could spare some.”

You held out your hand to him, presenting your wrist and looking at him expectantly.

“I’m not allowed to drink human blood,” he spat back at you, the bile of hundreds of years of resentment lacing his words. “Cazador doesn’t allow it.”

“You’re not his anymore. He gave control over to me and I say you can do whatever you’d like and that you don’t take orders from anyone anymore. The offer stands.” You went to withdraw your hand until his hunger bested his hesitation but he grabbed your wrist, stopping you from pulling away. 

“Well,” he said with a sly smile. “As long as you’re offering, I would be a fool to turn you down.”

It was so strange how quickly it happened, how easily he could slip right back into that faux confidence. 

He leaned towards you and you backed away at the hungry look in his eyes, one you were more than familiar with. 

“If you really want to I’m sure there’s ways we could make this a more rewarding experience for you,” he said and in a heartbeat he maneuvered himself over you, his hands interlaced with yours and holding you to the mattress. 

You pulled yourself back in an instant, leaning against the headboard as you presented your wrist to him once more. 

You didn’t fault him for it. After years of surviving with it, of course he would keep trying to draw you in with his sexuality. The instinct couldn’t be snuffed out overnight.

You’d bat away his attempts as many times you needed to, try and make him understand. You weren’t sure if it would ever work, not fully, but you’d keep trying. 

“It’s easier this way,” you said in explanation, giving him something to latch onto that didn’t feel like rejection. 

He rolled his eyes. “Easier, I’m sure. Typical, I got a master who’s allergic to fun.”

“I’m not your master. You can do as you please, could leave now if you wanted.”

“And go where?” he snapped. “You can pretend if you must but I know what I am. I know where I stand. I am a lot of things, but I am no fool.”

“I know.”

He studied you for a moment, eyes daring across your face before he pulled your wrist towards him, digging his teeth into your flesh. 

The sharp pain lasted for a heartbeat before it faded away to a dull ache. He lapped at the open wound, his put-on demeanor disappearing as he got lost in it. 

He cradled your hand like it was a lifeline. In a way, you supposed it was. 

You could feel yourself getting lightheaded as he fed but you refused to stop him. You would not command it of him, would rather die than force him into it. You let out a quiet whine, your form slumping back into the bed. 

He drew away immediately and your blood began pouring onto the white sheets of the bed. 

A moment of panic reflected in his red eyes before he grabbed the corner of the sheets, wrapping them around your wound. 

“There,” he said, his voice quieter than his normal bravado. “Should keep you from bleeding out.”

Your eyes were locked on his collarbone, a dark bruise becoming visible as your blood fled through his previously starved body. The longer you looked, the more of them you could see, peeking out from under his clothes. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” you said in hushed tones, hands moving to reach for him before stopping in their tracks, unsure if your touch would be wanted. 

He was otherwise preoccupied, his eyes alight with something entirely new. He looked stronger, livelier. There was a warmth to his cheeks you’d never seen before. 

You resisted the urge to touch him, to see if he’d become warmer as your blood had begun to run through him, bringing a new light to his eyes. 

“You should get some rest,” he said, looking down at you lying exhausted and drained on the bed. “You certainly need it.”

You barely had time to laugh at his comment before you’d drifted off. 

The ride back was as quiet as it had been the day before, if a little less uncomfortable. Astarion still stared for much of it but he at least pretended to read his book. The healthy flush to his cheeks seemed to come with a bit of newfound comfort and ease around you that made you puff up with pride, even if you still felt a little woozy from the night before. 

“Here we are!” you said as a knock sounded on the door, opening it and leading him inside your home. It was an old manor of your family's, not particularly big, right on the edge of nowhere, and perhaps falling apart just a little but more than suitable for your purposes. “It’s a little bit of a mess but I kind of like it that way. Come on, I’ll show you your room.”

You decided to put him in a room that was just a few doors down from your own, pointing out just where he could go to find you if he needed anything. 

You laid down to sleep once you got him situated, more exhausted than you typically were at this time of night. Despite how tired you were, presumably from the blood loss, you had to fight the urge to go and check on Astarion just one more time. 

You hadn’t known him for long but you’d already developed an intensely protective instinct towards the man. 

You did your best to put him out of your mind when a knock sounded at the door. 

“Come in,” you called out. You made no attempt to suppress your smile when he peeked in the doorway. 

“I think I’ve grown accustomed to your company,” he said sheepishly, and for once it didn’t seem like he was trying to seduce you. He seemed worn down, looking just as tired as you felt, a defeated air present on his face. 

You were too tired for subtlety, opening your arm to him and muttering a sleepy, “Just come here.”

He seemed grateful to not have to explain himself. To not have to ask. 

He sat on the bed, looking down at you where you lay. 

“No pillow this time?” he asked in that snide voice he used so often. 

“I can if you want. Just thought you might appreciate the closeness.”

He rolled his eyes dramatically. “Fine, I’ll be your little pillow to hug. Fair warning though, I run cold.”

You tried and failed to suppress a yawn as he got into bed beside you and you wrapped your arms softly around him. “I don’t mind. G’night.”

“Goodnight, my dear.”

Just like that, it became a bit of unspoken habit between the two of you. You felt it might honestly kill him to comment on it, to ask you for affection. But with no words, no pleasantries, there he was every night, beside you. 

One night, about a week into his residence in your home, he seemed more restless than normal, fiddling endlessly with your hand, incapable of sitting still. You turned to him with a pointed look. “Come on, out with it, it’s not good to go to bed with things left unsaid.”

He scoffed. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know, what if I die in my sleep or something.”

“If you die in your sleep, I think I might have bigger problems than things I didn’t say to you. Namely, some monster hunters who might take issue with the vampire you died next to.”

You shook your head. “No, I already told them about you, they wouldn’t hurt you.”

That seemed to take him by surprise, pulling back a bit at your words. “You did?”

“Of course I did. Now come on, out with it, what’s going on it that head of yours?”

He sighed dramatically and flopped back on his pillow. “It’s really nothing.”

“Not if it's bothering you. I want to help.”

“Did you mean it?” he blurted out, like the words had to be forced out of him quickly or they wouldn’t come out at all. “When you said you wanted to save the rest of them too?”

“Of course I did. And I will. At least if I have anything to say about it,” you said quietly, your stomach turning at the thought of the other spawn you’d left behind.

He turned from you as if you’d slapped him. “Right. I’m going to sleep in my own room. I should’ve been in there anyway, this was silly. Goodnight, darling.”

You chased after him in a heartbeat, catching up at him before he’d even managed to open his door. “Wait, what did I do? Astarion?”

He was an unstoppable force, storming into his own room. 

“I don’t understand what I did,” you pleaded with him, desperate to fix it. You raked through your conversation, trying to dissect every word spoken, every facial expression. You found nothing. Shouldn’t he be happy you wanted to help them? It didn’t make sense to you. 

He sat on his bed, one he’d never slept in, arms crossed and brows furrowed. When he spoke, there was a faux casualty to it, like he was trying to pretend none of it mattered to him. “I’m just making room for the next stray you let into your bed.”

You sat next to him, careful to keep your distance as you moved your head down to try and catch his eye. “You know I’m not replacing you, right?”

He huffed in response, turning away from you again. 

You made sure to keep your tone gentle and soft. “You know I wouldn’t let just any vampire spawn sleep next to me, right? It’s because I care about you, it’s not just because you’re there. No one is replacing you and I promise there is enough of me to help people while also still being there for you. I will save as many of them as I can until I can rid this world of Cazador but you’re not just Cazador’s victim, you’re my friend.”

He turned to you suddenly. “Stop saying that. Stop saying you’re going to hunt down Cazador. If he catches wind of any of this you’re dead. At least, if you’re lucky you’ll be dead. And then where will I be?”

“Hey, I’ve been doing this a long time. I know what I’m doing, we all know what we’re doing. He’s not going to get me.”

“That’s why you made that deal, is it? Did all the other hunters he slaughtered know what they were doing too? You aren’t a threat to him, you are a nuisance. You need to stop,” he snarled. 

You couldn’t stop. You both knew that, could see it as clear as day. 

Instead, you just said a quiet, “Come on, come to bed,” and walked out of the room. 

He trailed behind you, the unendable argument weighing heavy on the both of you, no more words spoken as he slipped under the sheets. You gave his hand a squeeze, trying your best to reassure him despite knowing it would never work. Not as long as he was still out there. 

And then, as he leaned into your space, head brushing against your arm, something he’d been getting slowly more comfortable doing, something occurred to you that should have many days ago, back when he’d first arrived here. It was strange that he was here, now. Not just because of his uncomfortability with any sort of nonsexual closeness, but because of when it was. 

Not only did elves not sleep the same way nor as long as humans did, but vampires slept during the day typically, to enjoy the night as best they could. 

“I’m going to start sleeping during the day,” you said decisively. “That way we can keep doing this,” you said as you gestured around vaguely, “and you can go out, can do things with your waking hours. I’m sorry it didn’t occur to me sooner.”

His eyes widened. “You’d really let me leave?”

His surprise felt like a shard of ice through your chest. “Of course I would. You can do whatever you want. I’ll even do my best to help if you’ll ask me for it.” Another horrible thought struck you. “Wait, you didn’t think you could leave and you’ve been with me most nights. What have you been eating?”

“Whatever I could find. I make for wonderful pest control.”

Your heart sank. You should’ve considered this sooner, never put him through any of this. 

“Here, drink from me,” you said, sticking out your hand. “I can get some bigger animals for you, keep them here so you don’t have to hunt for them if you’d prefer, but for now I will have to do.”

He hesitated, although his gaze was less suspicious than the last time you’d done this. Instead, he looked nervous. “You’ve… you’ve already done so much for me. I shouldn’t.”

“Astarion, you’re starving,” you said quietly, trying to reason with him. 

“I’d rather not push it. Eventually, even your charity will run out.”

You shook your head. “It will not. It’s fine if you don’t believe me, I know it’ll take time, but I will keep being here for you until it sinks in. Promise.”

He laughed quietly, seeming more for himself than for you, something that had been happening more and more lately. “You underestimate my distrust, I think I could outlast you.”

You smiled back. “Challenge accepted. But until then, you need to eat.”

You held out your wrist for him, the marks from the last time just beginning to fade. He took it, gingerly, bringing it slowly to his mouth and watching your face for any apprehension. 

You showed none, instead giving him a soft smile. “Go on. I don’t bite.”

That got a real laugh out of him. “That’s not funny.”

He pressed a soft kiss into your skin before sinking his fangs in, that sharp pain coming with a flutter of warmth inside your chest. 

He was slower this time, more intentional as he drank. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he wasn’t as hungry or if it was because it felt less like his meal might be ripped away from him unceremoniously. 

He didn’t get as lost in it this time, eyes flicking up to meet yours, checking in on you. 

You didn’t even get the chance to try and tell him you were feeling woozy before he drew back, pulling a handkerchief you hadn’t even noticed off the side table to wrap around your wrist. 

“Wouldn’t want to get our sheets all bloody,” he said as he knotted it tight around your wound. 

Your hands moved slowly as soon as he released them, reaching up towards his face and giving him plenty of time to back away. 

For a moment, when he first saw you reaching for him, he pulled back and you were ready to retreat and shower him in endless apologies when, as suddenly as he’d moved away, he leaned into your touch. 

Gentle hands cradled his face, ones he’d flinched away from but a moment before. He leaned into them openly now, unabashedly, making a home between your palms. 

He was warmer like this, with your blood rushing through him. 

You pulled him closer as his head tucked right under yours, your fingers carding gently through his hair. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, barely loud enough to reach his ears, and you had no idea if he believed you. 

You doubted it, doubted that you’d been able to break through all those years of his living hell so quickly. His walls had been carefully constructed for a reason, and you understood why he was so hesitant to break them down. You couldn’t blame him, would never blame him. 

It didn’t really matter. You’d keep trying either way.

[jezabelle9299]

Moving day S.R x fem! reader

Overture- Reader is moving into a neighborhood where a serial killer is hunting down women living alone, so when the FBI shows up on her doorstep she gets assigned protective custody from one Dr. Spencer Reid

*Includes references to season 1 episode 18 "Someone's watching" but this is season 3 or later

You were finally getting space away from your family, you’d finally saved up enough. You were able to actually buy a small house, as a mortgage payment ended up being cheaper than rent. You may be living it up in a two bedroom now, but you were no heiress. Movers were out of the question, you rented a small moving truck and set out to do a 24 hour moving day. You’d painted, picked up all of your second hand furniture, all of your packed boxes, and changed the locks. You’d just finished moving the first set of boxes inside when a black suv pulled in behind you in the driveway. An older gentleman came out and made a beeline towards you, with a man that looked like he could be his son trailing behind him. 

“My name is Agent Rossi, and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the FBI. We’d like to ask you a few questions.” You’d lived here a minute and a half and federal agents were knocking on your door. Your mother would have a stroke if you told her, so you focused on the younger guy who was about your age instead of letting your mind spiral with the possibilities of why they’re here. 

“Sure, what can I do for you?” Your attention was pulled from the Dr. Reid, who’d yet to speak, when his colleague spoke up again. 

“Can we come in?” The last thing you wanted was strangers in your house, but they had badges so you felt like you couldn’t realistically say no. Plus they could at least help you unload a couple of boxes while they talked. 

“Sure, but everyone needs to grab a box first, I’m on a bit of a tight timeline.” 

“Understood.” They each grabbed a box, and you did a small internal celebration that they grabbed the boxes of books you’d been dreading carrying inside. You grabbed one of the smaller ones, full of clothes instead. Once you arrived you sat down on the arm of your couch, gesturing for them to sit on the two chairs you’d picked up earlier that day. 

“Thank you for getting those, I appreciate it. What can I do for you?” The younger man spoke up for the first time since he’d been there.

“We were hoping you could answer a few questions for us about the neighborhood.” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I can help you. Unfortunately the moving boxes aren’t really for decoration. I’ve lived here for less than a day.” 

“We actually think you could be in a unique position to help, because you haven’t lived here long.You would be more acutely aware of the behavior of your neighbors because you aren’t used to it.” 

“Alright, then by all means, ask away.” The younger man asked almost all of the questions, with the older Agent Rossi taking diligent notes in his notepad. He started with questions of your interactions with your neighbors, but then shifted to the crime that brought him there. Someone had been targeting young women who lived alone in the few blocks surrounding your house. 

“Would you be comfortable coming to the station to be put in protective custody?” You’d say yes in a heartbeat if it was any other day. Especially if it meant being in Dr.Reid’s orbit. You weren’t big into dating, yet there was something–compelling about him. But this was quite possibly the busiest day you’d had in the last year. 

“No, I’m sorry but I can’t. I’ve still got boxes to unpack, furniture to put together, I can’t just pick up and leave.” 

“Understood. Give us just one second.” Agent Rossi chimed in, pulling Dr. Reid aside while you checked your phone. Well, mostly staring at the homepage while eavesdropping on their hushed conversation. They were terrible at whispering.

“Why don’t you stay here with her? You can help us over the phone if we need it, and she fits the victimology.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. She’s a little bit distracting. Maybe you should stay with her.”

“That’s exactly why you should stay with her, have you seen the way she looks at you? I swear she wouldn’t even notice I was here if I didn’t talk first.”  

The young man eventually relented, although he still seemed a bit pouty about the whole thing. Then Agent Rossi turned his attention back to you, and you pretended not to have been eavesdropping on the whole thing. You couldn’t tell if he was buying it.

“How would you feel about Dr. Reid offering you protective custody here? You could go about your business, Dr. Reid would just keep an eye out for you.” 

“Yeah that’d be fine, if he’s ok with it? It certainly won’t be interesting, you know, unless someone does decide to kill me.” He paled for a second before realizing it was a joke. You nudged him with your elbow, and then he finally let out a shaky exhale. Not really a laugh, but you’ll take it. Agent Rossi just gave you a smile and pat Dr. Reid on the shoulder. 

“You kids have fun.” Then when the door was mostly closed behind him, he opened it back up to say “Not too much fun.” before laughing to himself all the way to the car. You pulled the tape off of one of the boxes before unloading some of your books onto the shelves you put up that morning. 

“So Dr. Reid, what favor did you owe him to get stuck with me? Did you lose a bet or something?” 

“You–uh, you can just call me Spencer, and why would you think I wouldn’t want to be here?” 

“Why would you? I mean, it must be exciting being in the FBI and all, if it were me I wouldn’t want to babysit a fully grown adult.”

“It’s not babysitting, and I’m happy to be here.”

“Well that’s very sweet. But you're about to regret every life choice that’s led you to this point.” His face stiffened with confusion at that before you laughed teasingly. 

“We have to move my mattress out of that truck. Since you’re here, I’d love to get out of dragging it on a tarp outside.” He actually laughed at that, and you were grateful you could get an actual laugh from him with that stupid of a joke. Maybe you had a chance with him after all. 

You’d just managed to get the mattress on the boxspring in your room, barely. You crashed down onto it in celebration and exhaustion. 

This is the fruit of our labor, and for that I thank you. I think this calls for a drink.” You jumped back up and bounced to the kitchen, with Spencer trailing slowly behind you, still trying to catch his breath. You continued talking to him down through the hallway. “I’m not big into actual drinking so I don’t have any alcohol, but I have water, orange juice, and coffee I think.” 

He breathed a sigh of relief at the fact you’d stop going for a second. Before unloading your mattress you unpacked 3 boxes, and unloaded 6, while he could only struggle to keep up. You even found the energy to make conversation while you did it, and he was panting by the end, attempting to talk and lift. He’d never struggled to talk before. Every once in a while he needed to take a break from helping you to help the team, with them calling for whatever random information he could give, yet he was still lagging behind you with every trip back outside. 

“Coffee sounds amazing.” He figured the coffee maker was already set up, with the energy you had, you'd have to have more than he did. And he had 4 cups this morning. 

“Coming right up!” His relief at your pause in momentum was short lived. You made your way back to the living room and started shifting through boxes again. 

“What are you looking for? I thought you wanted to take a break.” 

“The coffee maker, it’s in one of these boxes, I just can’t remember which one. I mostly use it when I have guests.” You peaked his interest with that, there was no way that you just had all this motivation. It was humanly impossible. 

“Do you usually order yours? Or do you have a preference for energy drinks?”  Then you found the box holding the coffee machine and cut it open, laughing just a little bit to yourself at his interrogation-like line of questioning over something so simple. 

“Neither, I’m just not super into it. All of this annoying is 100% natural.” You plastered a cheesy smile on your face as you turned to him, coffee pot in hand. He just furrowed his brow in confusion. 

“I don’t think you’re annoying, but your relentless energy is interesting.” 

“Well thank you, Spencer. I don’t think I have creamer, but I definitely have sugar, so I hope that’s ok?” 

“Sugar is perfect, thank you again.” 

“Of course, thanks for helping me with that mattress, and you know, the whole bodyguard thing you’ve got going on.” You got down one of the mugs you’d recently put away, before passing it, filled with coffee, along with the sugar to Spencer.

“I’ve got to return that truck as soon as we get everything out of it, but I can pick up some food on the way back? And I’ve got movies in one of these boxes. You’re welcome to pick something, I like everything in there.” He chugged the coffee in his hand before moving with you toward the door. 

“Sorry, but protective custody only works when I’m close to you. So as long as you’re still ok with it, I’ll go with you. Also there’s no way I’m letting you pay for dinner after intruding on your space all day.” 

“Alright, then we’d better get started, the sun’s setting soon, and I hate the idea of driving that thing at night.” He gave a short nod and followed you out. You got the rest of the boxes, returned the truck, and picked up your car from the lot. When you went to pick up dinner Spencer, true to his word, insisted on paying. You sat on the floor and ate off the box your coffee table came in, deciding to put it together another day. When you cleaned up and finished unpacking your boxes of books and dvds you told Spencer he could pick a movie. He chose the one sci-fi flick from your collection, and you were not at all surprised. 

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

You weren’t quite sure when it happened. When you had moved to the couch, when you had offered to share a blanket with Spencer, or when you ended up falling asleep propped against his arm, the energy you had all day finally exhausted. The movie was long since forgotten when his phone rang and he answered in a whisper, not realizing the ringtone had already woken you up. 

“Hey Morgan, what’s up?”

“Hey kid, we found him, so you’re free to go. Unless of course, you’d like to stay.” You could hear the teasing tone in his voice even through the phone.

“What are you talking about?” 

“Oh forget it, Rossi already told everyone. Look, we’re not leaving until tomorrow morning. Just be at the station at 5 to pack up before we go, now go and make me proud.” You assumed he hung up with the way Spencer let out a long sigh before putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“Everything ok?” You mumbled out, alerting Spencer to the fact you were awake and continuing to stay propped against him for your own benefit, before leaning up to stretch and be able to look him in the eye. 

“Everythings fine, we found the person we were looking for, so we’re headed back to Virginia in the morning.” There was an air of sadness to his response, so you thought back on what the other agent said. 

“I know you probably have to get back, but it’s late and you’re welcome to stay here if you like.”

“I really couldn’t, it’s not only an imposition, but really inappropriate. There’s this concept called transference, essentially it’s where you project affectionate feelings onto people who are helping you, or hold some position of authority. I can’t possibly take advantage like that.” He shuffled to get up from your couch, straightening his clothes and grabbing his things to put them in his leather bag. 

“If you don’t want to, that's totally fine, but I wasn’t in danger. It was realistically babysitting more than anything, no one came after me, and nothing bad happened. Also, no offense, but I don’t really think of you or your friend from earlier as ‘Authority’. You’re like my age, and it’s not like you’re cops or anything. You’re federal agents, which is cool and all, but I’m not a murderer, so it’s not like I’m intimidated by you. I like you, but I’m not intimidated by you.” He couldn’t quite form a response, and his thoughts were swimming with the fact that he’d been assigned protective custody by himself twice and he ended up in this situation twice. I mean what are the odds. You were nothing like Lila though, with her he felt nervous all the time, but it was so easy spending the day with you. 

“You like me?” You feigned exasperation, with an over dramatic eye roll, and a cheesy smile. 

“Yes I like you. It wasn’t exactly an accident that I fell asleep on you, and continued to stay there after your ringtone woke me up.” He allowed himself a shocked smile, he wanted to keep his emotions neutral so as not to pressure you, but he couldn’t contain this. 

“Could I maybe get a response? I’m feeling a bit vulnerable here.”

“Sorry, yes of course I like you. I mean, have you seen you? You’re quite possibly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. I’ll stay if you’ll still have me, but I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“What a gentleman–” Just as you were about to tell him that sleeping on the couch was a terrible idea with his height, his phone rang again. 

“Reid.”

“Hey Spence, there’s a problem. We aren’t getting that break after all, and we need to get going now. We’ll brief you on the plane, but we need to go. Now.” 

“Alright, I’ll be there soon. Thanks JJ.” He looked at you reluctantly after he hung up. 

“I have to go, but I really want to see you again. Would–Would that be ok?” 

“Of course it would Spencer, I’m just a phone call away.” You pulled out one of the post-its you were using to label boxes and scribbled your number on it. 

“Also at the very least, you know where I live.” You laughed, and he did more of a shaky sigh while shaking his head at you. You opened the door for him, and said your goodbyes, wishing him good luck on whatever it was he was about to do. 

You didn’t need to wait by the phone long, with him calling you to set up your first date that evening. It was a short drive from Quantico to your house, so he was hopeful about his new relationship. He just hoped this would be the last time you needed protection. He’d be there, and he just hoped that was enough for now. 

[devildomditzy]

Pacts - Mammon x MC

Part one of ? Read Part two here

No tw so far! I’ll update if this changes

This also contains my personal headcannons of where MC’s pact mark locations are, none of it is cannon <3

——————————————————————————

Mammon absolutely hated your pact mark location at first.

Standing with you in the kitchen, absolutely humiliated, forced to his knees just to get his precious goldie back from the hands of Diavolo’s new pet- the one he had to unfortunate luck of having to look after. The confusion he felt once he looked up, wiping the frustrated tears beginning to form in his eyes, when he couldn’t see the pact on you; but he can feel it clear as day. There was no mistaking it, he was now bound to you, whether he liked it or not. “Whatever”, he thought to himself, “s’probably somewhere under their sleeve, or their arm or somethin’ stupid”. It didn’t matter to him, all that mattered to him was the piece of plastic in your grip that was now being passed over to him.

Yes!

“Now, I command you to pay Levi back what you owe him.”

Fuck!

A few days and a few draining shifts at Hell’s Kitchen later to save up enough to pay back his younger brother at the command of the new pain in his ass, it finally occurs to Mammon that he could now feel new sensations, specifically feelings that weren’t his own, and he comes to the conclusion that he has you to thank for this unwanted connection. His heart pulls at your loneliness when you lock yourself away in the guest room, scared of your new home and dejected by those around you. He feels himself become homesick for the human realm, a place he’d never regard as ‘home’ considering the amount of money grubbing witches after his wallet residing there. He feels his heartbeat speed up in tandem with yours every time you’re together. He’s not sure what to make of that one.

It doesn’t take long- a week at most, until he’s knocking on your door with enough force you’d think he’d bowl it down. You open the door with wild eyes, not sure who’d be bothering to visit you at this hour. The familiar race in your chest begins when you lock eyes with him. He can’t keep his own on you for long, finding the silence and the tension unbearable.

“Yo!”

“H-hey Mammon.”

“…”

“…”

“I think I left my charger in here earlier, better check for it.”

“Oh. I can grab it for yo-”

“NO! N-nah, I mean I can come in n get it myself, ‘m not stupid.”

“I..never said you were?”

“J-just lemme in!”

Mammon pushes past you and walks into your room, trying to seem nonchalant as he pick up blankets and shoves them aside, kicking up clothes in pursuit of his charger. He’s not surprised to find it where he strategically left it after your TSL marathon last night. He grabs it with the fingers of one hand, looping his thumbs into his pockets before turning back around to face you.

“Listen…if ya scared of Levi-”

“I’m not..”

“Or any of my brother for that matter…I could…ya know, look out for ya…”

“Aren’t you already supposed to be doing that?”

You cock your eyebrow at him, whether in suspicion or bemusement he’s not too sure. Why was this so hard to get out?

“Very funny. What I’m tryin’ to say is I could stay with ya! To.. ya know… make you less…scared…”

“You want to stay in my room? Like, a sleepover?”

Okay. Now it’s definitely bemusement. He can feel the heat rising up to his cheeks, his shoulders tensing up and back as he prepares for dejection, to be laughed at. What was he doing in the first place? He was just trying to find a way to get these feelings to stop, to stop feeling this weird psychic like connection he now had to your human mood swings. And he figured the best way to do that was to ask to stay with you? Overnight? IN YOUR ROOM? ALONE?!?

With the implications now hitting the second born straight in the face, a flurry of words begin to fly out of his mouth at a rapid pace. He’s clamoring to bring the conversation back to normalcy, throwing in a few insults just to be sure, and doing what he does best: backpedaling! But that stupid face on your face makes it hard to form a coherent reasoning as to why he wouldn’t want to be caught dead hanging out with the human, and that rapid thump, thump, thumping in his chest that he’s sure is somehow your fault is too distraction to overlook, and oh fuck you’re opening your mouth to speak-

“Sure.”

“I mean it’s not like I’d WANT to stay in here with ya! In fact, think of it like a favor- or better yet, a service! I don’t work for fr- wait. Did you say sure?”

“Sure. I could use some company. Honestly I’ve been pretty lonely since I got here.”

The demon finds himself too stunned to speak. It takes a giggle from you to break him out of his trance.

“Yeah. Yeah! I mean, I’m The Great Mammon, who wouldn’t wanna chill with me! Just don’t tell my brothers I was hangin’ around ya!”

“Yeah, I got it. The whole never wanna be caught with the weak, “fragile human” thing.”

You pause and he notices how your face briefly falls before you catch yourself. He not sure what to make of that one. But he knows you feel a little hurt. Because he can feel it too.

“So.. wanna watch a movie?”

One and a half stale comedy movies later and the second born is finding it increasingly hard to keep his eyes open. He knows you feel it too as he glances over at your slumped form. Your eyes may be staring dead ahead at the tv set, but he knows you aren’t absorbing a single word being said. It takes him a few tries to grab your attention.

“Oi…Oi!”

You jump, startled at the voice coming next to you. You slowly rotate towards them, blinking a few times and stifling a yawn.

“You oughta lay down. Ya look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I suppose you’re right. I’m going to change into pajamas. Did you bring any?”

Mammon shakes his head, “Nah, I gotta run back to my room ‘n change. I’ll be right back.”

You give a nod before disappearing into the bathroom. Mammon stretches before standing and making his way out the door. He figures his usual bedtime attire would get him a swift slap to the face, so he opts to go to sleep clothed tonight, it being your room and all.

His usual swagger has become lose and hazy as he walks back into your room, adorned in sweatpants and a hoodie he’d managed to swipe off his floor. He doesn’t bother knocking as he grips the handle, throwing your door open and shutting it behind him and while staring down at his D.D.D.

“So, ya want me to take the couch or w-WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?”

His phone clatters to the ground as his eyes grow in shock.

“What! What do you mean?!”, you ask, glancing down at yourself to frantically locate what could possibly pull that kind of reaction out of the second born. The straps of your tank top allowed for much more skin to show than what Mammon was used to seeing from you, but surely that couldn’t be the cause of his concern.

“T-That! Ya didn’t tell me you had a huge tattoo on yer chest!”

Your eyes travel down to the scooped neck line and thin strap that adorned your body. That’s when it dawns on you - he’s never actually seen this before. The mark that you’ve seen everyday since that day in the kitchen. Since you traded Mammon his credit line for his free will.

“Oh that. I..I think that’s yours?”

“MINE!? WHADDYA MEAN MINE?!”

“It kinda showed up after that day in the kitchen. Where we did the kneeling thing in the circle?”

“My pact mark?! O-over top your heart!? Nuh-uh, no way. This can’t be happening.”

It was clear to see Mammon was in full blown panic mode, but as to why would be anyone’s guess.

“Well uh, I don’t remember sitting down to get a big ass tattoo of some kind of…crest? I don’t know, look at it, see for yourself.”

“Q-QUIT PULLIN’ YA SHIRT DOWN!”

Mammon practically runs across the room, shielding his eyes with one hand while grappling with you to leave your shirt alone with the other.

“Hey! I didn’t choose to put it there! Did you?”

“OI! OF COURSE NOT!”

“Stop screaming and tell me if it’s yours!”

Though his mind doesn’t want to, his eyes automatically look downwards towards the exposed area of your chest. There’s no mistaking it. He’d know his mark anywhere, he knows it like the back of his hand. The mark of his greed. The same mark that lay right over your heart. His mark. He takes a sharp breath in. It glows a bright, blinding golden shine. He feels his heart beginning to speed up once more.

Shit.

Mammon bolts out of your room.

——————————————————————————

Ever since that occurrence, the second born has made himself as scarce as he possibly could be from your life. It’s not like Mammon could just neglect his duties as your watch dog, Lucifer would have his head if he did, and he fails to see how there’s any coming back from a punishment fit for “failing Lord Diavolo”. A shiver runs down his spine at the thought.

It was simple really, if he didn’t overthink it. Walk the human to and from R.A.D, make sure they’re not gettin’ picked on, NEVER talk about what happened last week and ALWAYS deflect if they brought it up. And Of COURSE you’d bring it up. Stupid humans and their inability to know when to just leave it alone.

It happens the first time he walks you to class after the fact. You didn’t run after him when he ran. Not surprising, he thought. “Musta thought they did somethin’ wrong”, he reflected alone, but then again, you did, didn’t you? You must have done something to make his mark, his crest, his claim fall perfectly atop the left side of your chest.

“Sooooo… are you gonna tell me why you ran away off the other night? If my shoulders were that spooky, I could have put on a t-shirt, you know.”

“I dunno what yer talkin’ about.”

The second born’s steely concentration remains aimed down at his D.D.D, where he currently typed furiously arguing with his brothers in the house’s group chat.

“Okay, so it’s not my shoulders. Was it these bad boys? You know, us humans can be pretty scary”, you grunt, drawing out the last words while flexing what little muscle you had in a teasing manner in an attempt to lighten the mood. Unfortunately for your dignity, Mammon doesn’t even throw a glance your way. “Uh huh, yea”, he mumbles, fingers continuing to fly across his keyboard.

Wanting to know what conversation he found so enthralling, you decide to slip your own D.D.D out of your pocket, clicking on the group chat notifications you’ve been receiving.

Leviathan: Ugh, I can’t believe I have to attend class today in person. I feel like such a normie.

Satan: Good. Maybe you’ll start to leave your room more often and stop being such a shut in.

Leviathan: Hey! If anyones a shut in lately, it’s Mammon! I’ve barely seen him at all this week! Every time I try to talk to him he says “he’s busy” and to “leave him alone”.

Lucifer: Interesting. Mammon, care to explain why you’re so busy?

Mammon: I’m not up to nothin’, I swear! I’m just studyin’ is all.

Asmodeus: Aww, are you too busy playing with your new human that you don’t have time for your own brothers?

Mammon: Shuddup! I’m watchin’ over them and that’s that.

Asmodeus: Don’t play dumb with us, Mammon <3 Levi told us all about what went down in the kitchen.

Mammon: LEVI! I SWEAR TA FATH- I DONT KNOW WHAT I SWEAR TO BUT IM GONNA KILL YA’

Beelzebub: Kitchen….

Mammon: BEEL YER NOT HELPING!

Satan: Did you really expect you could hide a newly form pact from us? The exchange student is absolutely radiating with your power now.

Asmodeus: Aw, I wanna make the human radiate too!

Mammon: I had no choice okay! They practically blackmailed me into it!

Leviathan: You could have said no, if you weren’t such a money grubbing scumbag.

Mammon: Hey! Goldie belongs to ME! I had to get her back no matter the cost.

Lucifer: That also sounds rather interesting. Mammon, care to explain?

Mammon: EEP!

Asmodeus: What I find rather interesting is that pact! I want all the details! Like, what did their face look like when you formed it? Was their mouth open? What sounds did they make? Did they sound like moans? Were they more beautiful than mine?

Mammon: Like I’m tellin’ ya any of that!

Asmodeus: Ooo I know! Where did the pact sigil form? <3

Finding the conversation now centering all around you, you decide to speak for yourself.

MC: On my chest. It sits a bit over my heart.

Mammon’s head shoots up to look at you, expression a mix of terror and shock. It was almost as if he forgot you were also apart of this conversation.

“Wha-WHY’D YA GO AND TELL EM’ THAT!”

“C-cause it’s the truth? Is it supposed to be a secret? They said they already knew?”

“Not about the pact! About the chest thing! About the h-heart thing!”

Suddenly your D.D.Ds notifications both start blaring at the same time, notifications buzzing much faster than they had before.

Asmodeus: Ooo Mammon ~ very bold of you <3

Leviathan: Eww gross… Are you kidding me? You guys met like what, not even three weeks ago?

Satan: I do have to say given the implications, that does seem very sudden.

You decide being the center talk of the HOL’s tabloid was not for you. If Mammon wasn’t going to give you answers, you were going to get them one way or another out of one of these boys.

MC: What ‘implications’?

“That’s it!”

You jump as you hear Mammon speak up next to you, reaching over to yank your D.D.D put of your hands and holding it over your head. You jump up and try to grab it from his grasp, but it’s not use.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“Nun-uh. Ya too distracted and at this rate we’re gonna be late.”

“Since when have you ever cared about being late?”

“Since Lucifer threatened to skin me alive if I don’t deliver ya to school on time. Now c’mon, let’s get goin’.”

Mammon slips his arm out of one strap of his bag and maneuvers it around to his front, unzipping a pocket and dropping your D.D.D inside.

“But, what if I need it for something? Like, an emergency!”

“Ya don’t need it. Ya got me remember. Don’t know how ya could forget with that big ass blemish on yer chest.” Though he mumbles the last part under his breath, it was just enough for you to hear.

“You…you think it’s a blemish?”, you ask, not feigning to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Oh no. Oh fuck. He can feel it again. That rapid beat beat beating of your heart, and the rising sadness beginning to bubble in your stomach.

“That’s not what I meant,” Mammon starts, but before he can finish the words are already leaving your mouth.

“You know, thanks for walking me, but I think I forgot something at HOL. I can find my own way back.”

“MC, wait!”

Now it was your turn to bolt away from him.

——————————————————————————

[1toomanyfictionalbfs]

bad dreams

Spencer Reid x gn! reader

summary: you wake in the middle of the night seeing your boyfriend wide awake still shaken up from the nightmare he had awoken from.

warnings : really none, small bit of angst, pretty boy being sweet, fluffy

word count : idk maybe 0.4K

a/n : okay so I haven’t finished criminal minds yet but after watching season 1 episode 10 this has been stuck in my mind and I need to write it but, I just love Spencer so much he’s so amazing I hope y’all enjoy🫶.

The bright moon was high in the sky, quietly illuminating the room as you and your boyfriend lie asleep. You rest peacefully quiet breaths, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath fueled by your beating heart. Though, you lie asleep as if you were a small boat on a still lake, the man beside you couldn’t stop twisting and turning.

Escaping the dream Spencer awoke with a jolt sitting up his eyes shooting open. Feeling this sudden motion pulled you from your own calmer dream. You slowly turn over your mind still drowsy from the abrupt awakening. You see the dark curls leaning over his face, his head in his hands. You reach up placing your warm hand to his bare back causing him to jump.

“Honey, are you okay” you mumble still trying to keep from falling back asleep. He turned to look at you as you slowly sat up, “oh did I wake you up I’m s-“ he started quietly. You quickly shook your head no saying “no no it’s okay what happen are you alright” your voice still low as you quickly checked over his body to make sure he wasn’t injured.

Your eyes looked back to his as he said “no just I had a bad dream is all.” Your mouth made somewhat of an “oh” shape as you nodded to his words. You had none of his night terrors for a long time and though it had happened less frequently there were some nights he couldn’t escape them. You pulled him into a tight hug as you always had saying “well I’m sorry, I just wish there was something I could do to stop them” your tone apologetic, your heart shattering every time you saw the small tears that would well up in his fearful eyes from the thought of all the scary things that would haunt him in the deep hours of the night.

“This” Spencer whispered into your hair as your fingers twirled his own messy curls. His words brought a smile to your face as you felt eyes begin to become harder and harder to keep open, the warm embrace acting as a blanket.

You pull away and reach your hands up to his face, the light stubble poking your fingers as you use your thumbs to wipe away the tears. Placing a small kiss to his nose as you whisper “i love you” hoping your soft affectionate words will bring him the comfort he needs.

He reciprocates the words with a quiet “I love you more” and you couldn’t keep from playfully rolling your eyes “that’s not possible” you speak softly your words bringing a smile to his face as Spencer wraps his arms around your waist pulling you closer, capturing his lips over yours. Pulling away as you lie down again his arms still wrapped around you, his head now lying in the crook of your neck as you bring your hands back into his hair running your fingers through it. Eventually, you both fall back asleep to the sound of your matching steady heartbeats and the comforting warmth of each other. And for the first time in a long time Spencer had slept through the whole night feeling amazing and well rested in the morning. Even with the bright rising sun that beamed through the light curtains shining into his eyes Spencer couldn’t help but smile as he saw you lying asleep, knowing that he’d found the one.

okay what do we think guys. Lmk if you have any thoughts, or criticisms and yeah again I hoped you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed right have a great day or night and I love you.

[mcdonaldsnumberone]

HAPPY!

green flag traits of "red flag" men inspired by @aesterblaster’s cute kaiser snippet <3 gender neutral reader

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

BAROU SHOUEI!

constantly takes care of you!

Barou isn’t exactly well-known for being an agreeable man, but everyone in the Blue Lock program knows how strict he is with maintaining not only himself but the environment around him. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but he cares for you deeply and does what he can to make sure you’re eating your meals properly and making sure your living quarters are taken care of. Even if you invite him over to your place for a casual date, Barou refuses to sit still until all of your laundry is taken care of and he’s cooked up a nice snack for you. You love joking about how he’s essentially like a husband to you, although Barou will simply grumble at you to take better care of yourself, even if the thought does make him blush a little. He doesn’t mind cleaning up after you, especially if it means making you feel more comfortable, but he’ll still give you an earful when he catches you eating cookies on your bed. 

“What would you even do without me?” Barou grumbles, scrubbing at the dishes in your sink with a renewed fury. “I swear, I leave for a few weeks to deal with a season, and I come back to you living as if your parents never taught you any manners.”

“I had a handful of dirty dishes in the sink. A handful,” you reply, waiting for your boyfriend to wrap up your chores and join you on the couch. “That I didn’t bother to do because I was getting ready in the morning. And you can leave them where they are, Sho. You don’t have to do my work for me.”

Barou frowns, but he doesn’t let go of the dishes. You always make it very clear that he’s not obligated to do any of your dirty work for you, but despite all the chastising he might do, Barou always insists on doing it anyway. You know it’s his way of showing his love for you—lots of heartfelt acts of service to lift even a little bit of the burden off of your shoulders. Even if you tease him for being a softie that would do anything at your beck and call, you’re awfully grateful to have a boyfriend that doesn’t mind picking up after you every now and then.

He places the last dish onto the drying rack and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel, and you reach towards him as he makes his way to you and sits down on the couch. He takes you into his arms, and you cuddle up against his side, grinning up at him like the Cheshire Cat.

“Thanks for doing my dishes for me. Again.” You sneak a kiss onto his cheek as he hums slightly, his face as austere as ever. He’s secretly enjoying this charade though: you can feel the way his hands tighten against your body and the way he melts ever-so-slightly towards the warmth of your body.

“Don’t get used to it,” he grumbles, knowing all too well that you have gotten too used to his pampering and that he would do it again in a heartbeat. “I’m not your maid.”

“Nope, you aren’t.” You pinch his cheek. “You’re something even better! You’re my boyfriend!”

ITOSHI SAE!

horrendously loyal to you!

Sae quite literally knows nothing about the world outside of his life with soccer, so when he first fell for you, he felt less like the soccer prodigy the world had its eyes on and more like a horribly inadequate boyfriend fumbling around to impress you. You’ve been nothing but understanding, but he feels bad that he has nothing but his utter devotion to offer you. You have no issues with it, and Sae finds more and more creative ways to remind you that he really has no one but you. He never says it directly to your face that he’d rather die than have you leave him, but it’s in the way he refuses to let go of your hand when you’re together or how he sends pictures of any and all wedding boutiques he runs across with a not-so-subtle text saying how it's perfect for the two of you. Sae knows it’s way too early to even entertain the thought of marriage, but how can he not, when he’s convinced that you’re his soulmate?

Sae’s grown to enjoy the quiet things in life. He’s never been too big of a fan of the loudness that came with his successful career. Frankly speaking, he could always do without the invasive interviews, the blinding flashes of paparazzi, the frenzy-mongering journalists twisting his words and actions for more clicks on their content. 

Instead he’s found joy in you. There’s the way you make him laugh, your dumb jokes managing to wrench a giggle out of him. It’s the way you urge him to try out the new dessert menu out on a cafe date together, or how you beg him to pleeeeeeease buy a matching set of keychains with his big boy soccer player salary. Sae still has it hanging from his practice bag, and when Aiku found out about it, the captain teased him so badly that the entire team had to hold him back from yanking Aiku’s facial hair out. 

Today is nothing special yet it’s Sae’s entire world. You’re fresh out of the shower, skin still a bit moist from the water, and you’re absentmindedly scrolling on your phone next to Sae in bed. Your attention isn’t even on him, distracted by whatever video you’re watching, yet Sae’s heart swells with so much affection that it’s almost suffocating. He wants to tell you he loves you until his voice gives out, but he knows being too brazen will scare you away. Knowing how to act like a normal boy his age has never been his strong suit, so until the day he can arrives, he settles for squeezing your shoulder and craning his neck to see what you’re watching. 

“Look, Sae!” You hold up the phone, revealing two cats cuddling on your screen. “It’s literally us! You’re the grumpy looking cat right here!”

He scoffs, but his stomach does a backflip when you giggle, saving the video to your camera roll. Sae knows he doesn’t deserve you, not when you deserve someone much softer and kinder and more gentlemanly rather than the awkward boy he is. But it’s these moments that remind you how much you love him too, and inadequacy be damned, Sae will fight tooth and nail to cherish these shared moments with you. 

OLIVER AIKU!

keeps the charm in your relationship!

There’s no denying that Oliver does have a flirtatious streak, and it took a lot of trying on his part to prove his loyalty to you. But as much as you hate to admit it, Oliver is also the kind of boyfriend that knows how to keep the flame in your relationship alive. Underneath the playboy casanova act is a hopeless romantic that loves sweeping you away and showering you with the kind of affection that would leave anyone swooning in their place. He’s the sort of boyfriend that’ll randomly pull you in for a dance while you’re making dinner together in the kitchen or try to serenade you outside your window horribly, only to end up pissing off your neighbors. Even the slow moments are just as entertaining, and Oliver knows how to keep you on your toes. A relationship with him is fun, first and foremost, and he’ll do whatever he can to keep you smiling. 

It’s been one of those kinds of days. The ones where everything seems to go against you. Your clothes don’t look good, you keep tripping over your own feet, and nothing at work or school seems to work out for you. You’re down in the dumps and frankly ready to just curl up in bed to rot away for the rest of the day, so finally being able to go back home sounds like the trumpets at the gates of Heaven.

You practically slam your front door open and hurl your bag onto the couch, letting out a loud groan before nearly collapsing into a heap on the floor. You can hear a pair of soft footsteps pad out towards where you are, and you don’t need to look up to know that it’s your boyfriend.

“Woah there, sugar,” his deep voice sounds from above you, “Everything alright? No beautiful smile for me today?”

You shake your head, stifling another groan. “It’s been a long day, Oli. I’d smile at you if I had anything to smile about.”

“You’ve got me to smile for,” Oliver murmurs. It earns him a long glare from you, and he shoots an apologetic smile in surrender. You let your head sink back onto the floor, but Oliver pads over to where his car keys are, grabbing his jacket before heading back to you.

“How about we go for a quick run then? I’ll get you a few treats: McDonald’s, some candy and drinks, all my treat,” he offers. Your ears perk up at the offer, and Oliver grins, seeing you twitch. “I’ll even let you have aux this time so you can play whatever ear-rotting songs you want to listen to. “

“Even CBAT?”

He rolls his eyes when you peel your face off of the floor, looking at him with such sparkling eyes that he wouldn’t have guessed that this was the same person that came home with a storm cloud above their head. “...Fine. Even CBAT, if that’s what’ll cheer my angel up. Quit moping and get back on your feet. I’m not carrying you all the way to the car.”

“Boo,” you pretend to pout, but you eventually pick yourself up. Oliver offers you a hand for you to cling to, and before you know it, your mood is lifted and you’re driving off with your boyfriend off into the sunset. 

MICHAEL KAISER!

makes it so clear that he’s obsessed with you!

If there is one word to describe how Kaiser is with you, it’s smitten. It’s hard to believe at first: the New Generation 11 striker, head over heels with a nobody like you? You think you’re dreaming when he first asks you out, but despite your constant doubts, Kaiser follows after you like a puppy that doesn’t know how to do anything better. While he would love to parade you around and make sure everybody knows who his heart belongs to, he takes it easy and lets you call the shots as to how extreme he can be. He’s the first thing you wake up to, always sending you a good morning call, and he’s the one fighting with you for the bill whenever you want something (spoiler alert: he always wins). It’s even in the way he holds your hand like it’s a lifeline; Kaiser’s fallen, and he’s fallen hard. He might be standoffish and selfish, but when it comes to you, he’ll do anything to make sure his feelings are known.

Kaiser crosses his arms, his pointed blue eyes leering down at you. His lips pull into a small frown, and he sighs deeply as if something’s troubling him. “You have honestly got to stop doing that.”

You blink, confused. “Stop doing what? I’m not doing anything.”

You really aren’t. You’re on your way back from the kitchen, having fixed yourself a snack. It’s one of those so-called ‘lazy days,’ where you haven’t bothered changing out of your pajamas or even washing your face for that matter. A horribly unglamorous side to show to your world-famous soccer star boyfriend, but if he had an issue with you being lazy, he should have left you a long time ago.

Kaiser’s cheeks tint into a shade of pink, and he grits his teeth. “Just… all of this! It’s bad for my heart!”

You raise an eyebrow. There’s crust all over your eyes, probably some crumbs around your mouth, and you can’t even start to talk about how disheveled you are. And yet, here you are, with Kaiser about to melt into a puddle of goo despite how awful you must look, and you have to admit, it’s quite the sight.

“Awwww, Mihya,” you tease, raising your voice to a mocking sing-song pitch. “Do you think I’m pretty? Gee, you could have just said so.”

Kaiser flushes an even deeper shade of red, burying his face into his hands. “D-Don’t phrase it like that! All I’m saying is that it’s bad for my heart to see you so casually like this! It feels so domestic, and then my stupid brain starts imagining things like living together, and- and- waking up together, and someday even getting married…”

Marriage? This certainly isn’t the first time it’s come up, and you doubt that it’ll be the last. Not that you mind though. If Kaiser’s in this much of a frenzy seeing you doing nothing, you’re going to take that as proof of how absolutely down horrendous this man is. You simply sidle up to him like the minx you are, poking at his cheeks until he’s yelping and trying to run away from you.

You chase him through the hallways, only catching him when you tackle him to the bed. His eyes are blown wide open, and his face is a brilliant shade of tomato crimson. You lean forward, grinning from ear-to-ear like a cat that’s caught its prey. 

“C’mon, don’t get shy on me now. Where’s my insufferable boyfriend now?” You coo. “Pucker up, loverboy, because I’m going in for a kiss!”

x

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[hom3landr]

"just lie to me, okay? just this once."

Necessary Lies

CW - Major Character Death, descriptions of gore and sickness, ANGST ANGST ANGST

Homelander’s intentions had been pure when he arranged to dose you with Compound V. He’s reminded by a friend that’s how the road to hell is paved

You aren’t getting better.

Homelander’s stomach turns.

You aren’t getting better.

He’d done everything right. The whole process was done under the supervision of all of Vought’s best doctors and scientists. Even as you screamed and begged, he’d been confident that any complications could be swiftly dealt with. Sure, you’d been an adult when the V had been introduced into your system but you are strong. You have to be. You have to.

He watches you in your room. It doesn’t seem right for you to be surrounded by so much blank white. You are color and light but even you can’t withstand the way the awful room dims your soul. Maybe if you could see the sun you’d get better. But the doctors insist you are too fragile to handle any environment except the sterile one you are contained in.

He bites his lip anxiously as you continue to hack up blood, the bright crimson automatically drawing the eye. His instincts tell him to scan you, to watch as the V twists your DNA and transforms you into something greater.

I told you not to get your hopes up. You tend to have a less than stellar track record when it comes to mud people.

He shakes his head and tries to ignore the little voice in his ear. He’s wrong this time. It’s a hiccup that’s all. You’re strong. You are.

The voice is blocked out but not by his own efforts. A horrible cry leaves your lips as your bones crack and shift under your skin. More red spews on the floor. He winces at the wet splat as a chunk of something hits the floor.

That was juicy. Wanna bet that was a lung?

Homelander tastes iron as he splits his own lip. It feels like it’s your blood he’s tasting. It’s your blood he’s spilt.

That one was a little mean, I admit. But buck up Bucko, this is what you signed up for. Maybe you’ll listen to me next time.

He’s done this before. Why the fuck were you the one with complications?

“There’s a good reason Vought doesn’t do it.”

That’s what he told Madelyn that fateful night.

He’d killed her too

He steps to the side as a squad of sour smelling scientists rush in to stabilize you. But what can they do? What can they do now that the only outcome is for the poison to run its course? He vividly fantasizes about popping each one’s head like a ripe melon as punishment for not fixing this. It doesn’t make him feel better.

Please

He begs the voice in his head.

Just lie to me, okay? Just this once.

The once dependable steady rhythm of your heartbeat is dangerously erratic.

You smell like death.

Please!

He worries the cut on his lip with his tongue. It feels strange to have a wound. The scientists flutter around you nervously. They know you’re a lost cause but Homelander’s icy gaze compels them to at least pretend to be helpful. Their terror burns his nose. He decides to make their demise slow.

No can do Buddy, you know that’s not what I’m here for. I’m the only one who’ll never lie to you.

Your heartbeat grows fainter. Your breaths rattle.

One of the scientists pisses himself.

Please…

You turn your head and despite your eyes meeting his, he knows you can’t see him. You wouldn’t be able to even without the wall in the way. He doesn’t think you can see much of anything anymore.

I told you so. Better go in and say your goodbyes.

I hate you

Aw buddy, I’m the only thing you have left.

Your heart stops and a noise all too terribly familiar leaves your throat. The last noise you’ll ever make. A wail just as wretched leaves his lips.

He didn’t even say goodbye. He let you die in that awful room alone. He wasn’t even holding your hand. You were alone like he was alone all those many years ago. Being poked at like he was.

He vomits bile onto the floor.

You’re gonna need me more than ever now. Better get used to it.

[inkedinshadows]

Echoes of the Bond

Pairing: Azriel × reader

Summary: part 2 of "A Helping Hand". When mates are reunited, Y/N grows curious about what the mating bond is, causing Azriel's brain to short-circuit.

Warnings: none I guess?

Word count: 3.7k

A Helping Hand (part 1)

֍֍֍֍֍

Y/N got out of the tub, wrapping her body in a soft towel.

For the last three weeks, she'd been able to take a bath on her own. Azriel had helped twice after that first time, and even Mor had tried when Azriel wasn't around. But Y/N wasn't comfortable with her there, not as she was with the Shadowsinger. Knowing she couldn't always count on him for something as basic as washing herself, she'd learned – or relearned, actually – how to do it herself. There were still bad days when the first few minutes in the water had her gasping for air, but they were now few and far between. And when they did occur, she usually imagined Azriel's heartbeat beneath her palm, just like the first time, and she'd calm down. She never told him that, though.

Sliding on a dress, she headed out of her room and toward the dining room. She was getting used to living in the House of Wind, almost looking forward to having meals with the Inner Circle. Elain and Nesta were still having a hard time adapting to this new life and refused to leave their rooms, and Y/N would visit them sometimes, but they'd never really been close. Out of the three sisters, Feyre was her friend, and she missed her. Things would be easier if she were back in the Night Court.

When Y/N entered the room, Azriel and Cassian were already there. She offered them a smile as she sat at the table, a plate of her favorite pastries appearing before her as soon as she did. Even after a month in Prythian, she was still trying to wrap her mind around magic. Real magic, right in front of her.

“How are you today?”

Y/N turned to Cassian with a small smile. “I'm feeling better every day.” She glanced at Azriel, who always seemed worried she might be lying about it. “And I haven't had any nightmares in a few days.”

Azriel inclined his head, a barely-there gesture she might have missed if she hadn't grown used to his subtle movements. Ever since he first helped her, she had become keenly aware of his every move.

“That's good,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her for a second longer before he returned his attention to his breakfast.

With Cassian's focus still on her, she picked up one of her pastries as she addressed him again. “And how are your wings?”

“Feeling better every day,” he answered, repeating her words with a mocking smile. He even extended them behind him to demonstrate the truthfulness of his statement. “Biggest wingspan getting back on track, I can tell you that.”

Y/N chuckled. “You have the biggest wingspan?”

“Oh, you bet I do.” Cassian's grin was nothing less than smug. “I could show you exactly how big–”

Azriel's snarl interrupted him. “Watch it, Cassian.”

But Cassian didn't seem particularly bothered. “Why? She asked,” he replied with a shrug. “I was merely offering her a chance to see for her–”

He was cut off by Azriel's low growl. Y/N looked at him, her brow furrowed in confusion at the reaction. She'd never heard such a tone from him before, never seen him so on edge. Glancing from one Illyrian to the other, she realized there might be something she wasn't aware of, or maybe wingspan was just a very sensitive topic for them.

Cassian lifted his hands up in surrender, finally picking up on his brother's rising irritation. “Relax, Az.” He glanced at Y/N, then back at him. “It was just a joke, brother.”

But Azriel still seemed tense, and Y/N reached over to him to place a hand on his arm. “Azriel,” she said gently, “are you alright?”

He’d always been there for her since she’d arrived at the Night Court, and she now wanted to do the same for him, even if she didn’t know what had triggered such a reaction from him.

Those beautiful hazel eyes slid to her hand touching him, then to her face, and he finally relaxed as he gave her a nod. “Yeah… sorry about that,” he murmured, casting an apologetic look in Cassian’s direction, receiving only a dismissive wave of hand in return.

As Y/N pulled back, a few tendrils of Azriel's shadows slithered between her fingers and curled around her wrist. Their master looked at them as if they were disobedient children and Cassian's eyes widened, but she only chuckled.

Shadows lingered in the darkest corners of her room, swirling under furniture or inside cracks as if they were trying to hide. But she knew they were there – she'd first noticed them one day when Azriel had brought her a tray of food, back when hunger was an unknown feeling and she didn't eat. Though neither she nor Azriel ever said anything about it, knowing his shadows were always with her was a comforting thought. But they'd never openly approached her before.

“They seem to like you,” Cassian pointed out, his voice muffled by the food he had just stuffed in his mouth.

Y/N watched the shadows linger around her wrist as a bracelet, a warm feeling sparking in her chest, there and gone as soon as the shadows hurtled back to their master. “I think they’re cute,” she said with a smile, her eyes meeting Azriel’s for a moment before they both looked away. She could have sworn a faint blush crept up his cheeks. It only made her smile grow.

Cassian seemed to notice it too, because he paused mid-bite. His eyes narrowed as he focused first on his brother, then on her, then on Azriel again. And then his jaw almost dropped, his eyes now widened.

Y/N was about to chuckle at the sight, but Azriel was even more serious than usual and just gave Cassian a short nod. She frowned, aware once more that there was some kind of silent conversation going on between the two brothers. But neither of them bothered to enlighten her, and she didn't ask. She was still new to their world, and to their group. They would have told her if it was something they thought she should know, she was sure of it.

They continued to eat their breakfast, though a somewhat tense silence had now settled over them. Azriel kept his eyes on his food while Cassian was miserably failing at hiding his grin as he glanced between the two of them. On her part, Y/N felt like anything she could say would be the wrong thing, so she didn't say anything.

Once they were done eating, she stood up, intent on heading back to her room or maybe stopping at the library Rhys had shown her a few days before. But Cassian called out her name and she stopped in her tracks, turning around in time to notice Azriel's warning look at his brother.

“Would you like to leave the House for a few hours?” Cassian asked her with a smile. “Az and I could show you around Velaris. You said you wanted to see it yesterday.”

“I did,” she confirmed, surprised by the offer.

Azriel was now watching her, more relaxed than a few minutes ago as he waited for her answer. And she didn't even need to think about it.

“I'd really like that, yes.”

“Good!” Cassian almost burst out of his seat and guided her towards the doors that led out onto the balcony, Azriel trailing silently after them. “Then I hope you're not afraid of heights.”

Y/N frowned. “Heights? No, why?”

It was Azriel who answered this time. “The easiest way to reach the city is by flight.” He walked up to her, standing so close that his scent enveloped her, and she had to fight not to close her eyes and breathe it in. “Will you trust me to fly you down?”

She smiled then, soft and warm. “Az, of course I do.” After everything he’d done for her, there was probably nothing she wouldn't trust him with. “You know that.”

A coughing fit drew her attention to Cassian as he tried to suppress a giggle.

“What’s going on with you today?” she asked with a chuckle.

“Oh, nothing,” he snickered. “I'll see you down there.” He extended his wings and with a powerful beat, he shot skyward.

Y/N turned back to Azriel with a raised eyebrow, but he simply shook his head. “Ignore him,” he said, his tone somewhere between amused and annoyed. “He acts like a big child sometimes.”

She chuckled again, but it quickly died when Azriel stepped even closer. He moved slowly, as if he wanted to give her all the time to change her mind and push him away, but she didn't. And then his arms were at her knees and her back, and he effortlessly picked her up and cradled her to his chest.

Her heart skipped a beat and she tried her best not to blush at the proximity, the gentleness he was holding her with. It reminded her of when he'd washed her, every movement careful and studied so as not to startle her. That feeling in her chest came back, but it was more like a gentle tug. Toward what, she didn’t know.

“Are you ready?” His voice was soft, like he didn't want to ruin the moment, but his eyes bore into her and she could only nod, her ability to speak momentarily forgotten.

Next thing she knew, they were airborne. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck for more support when she realized just how high up in the sky they were, the House of Wind growing smaller behind them. She forced herself to peer at the city below them. And she stopped breathing altogether.

If the view from the House of Wind was beautiful, then there were no words to describe it from right above it. Velaris was sprawled below them, shining in the light of the morning sun, the river flowing through it to the sea, and as they slowly descended towards the city, Y/N could make out people in the streets, the sounds of music and laughter filling her ears.

“It's… so beautiful,” she murmured, her awestruck tone bringing a smile on Azriel’s lips.

“You should see it at night,” he replied, flying around until he spotted Cassian waiting for them. “There's a reason why it's called the City of Starlight.”

“Maybe you could take me flying at night, then.”

She didn't know where the words had come from, why she'd suggested it. Azriel definitely had more important things to do than show her a night view of Velaris. Sleep seemed like a good option, for example. Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away.

But Azriel landed and gently placed her on her feet again, his hands lingering on her waist for a moment before he pulled away. “Maybe I could.” There was no hint of playfulness in his voice. He really meant it.

Before Y/N could answer, Cassian approached and clapped his brother on the shoulder. “There you are! I was starting to think you two would never come down.”

Azriel shot him a glare and simply gestured for them to start walking down the street. Cassian was still speaking, but she wasn’t listening, too busy taking in their surroundings to focus on anything else. She'd never seen a city before – none were left in the human lands – and Velaris was bustling with life. She marveled at every shop, every little corner, every painted house.

They had reached the end of the street, a bridge over the Sidra now in front of them, when both Cassian and Azriel tensed. Y/N turned to them, mouth already open to ask what was wrong, but a small cry of surprise came out instead as Mor suddenly appeared next to them.

“We have to go,” was all she said, her voice firm. She was wearing black leathers like the Illyrians, as if she was ready for a fight.

The three of them exchanged a glance, Y/N even more confused than before. Azriel simply said, “I'll take her to the townhouse,” and scooped her up in his arms once more. She only had time to see Mor grab Cassian's hand and winnow away before they were soaring through the sky again.

“Az, what's going on?” she finally asked, turning her face to look at him.

His unreadable expression only caused her to be even more nervous, yet Azriel didn't answer until he landed on the doorstep of a house and set her down. “It's Feyre.” Her heart jumped at the words. “She's in the Winter Court. We're getting her back.”

The door opened behind them, and Amren appeared. She lifted a brow at the sight of Y/N, probably not expecting her, but she simply looked at Azriel. “Go. Now.”

The Shadowsinger looked at Y/N one last time, gave them a sharp nod, and shot to the skies.

“Come inside, girl.” Amren stepped aside to let her walk by. “Looks like we've got some waiting to do.”

~~~~~~

Waiting must be some kind of torture.

Apparently, Amren didn't know much about Feyre's situation. She only explained that Rhys had spoken mind-to-mind with all of them, saying his mate had left the Spring Court. Other than that, she had no idea if Feyre was fine or hurt.

But Y/N wasn’t worried just about her friend. She was worried about Azriel too, as if he weren't a centuries-old warrior who could definitely look out for himself. Maybe it was just Amren's presence that set her even more on edge. The short female made her nervous, perhaps due to the power that seemed to thrum from her, or the way she seemed to look at her as if she could see into the depths of her soul.

After an hour that felt more like a century, five figures winnowed into the living room. Y/N flinched, then shot to her feet and ran to Feyre, not caring about the dirt that covered her friend as she held her tight. Feyre stumbled back a step, probably caught off guard, but hugged her back a second later.

“Y/N.” She pulled back, scanning her head to toe. “Are you alright?”

Y/N almost laughed at that. She wasn't the one who'd just needed a rescue party. “If I'm alright? Are you alright?”

Feyre nodded, but her attention quickly shifted. “Yeah, I'm… I'm alright.” Her eyes were searching the room, as if looking for something. Or someone, Y/N guessed.

Letting go of her friend, Y/N realized there was another person with them. A red-haired Fae with a mechanical golden eye. She'd seen him before – that day in Hybern. Now that her recollection of those events was clearer, she remembered him claiming Elain was his mate just as she came out of the Cauldron, right before they'd shoved her in.

Cassian, Azriel and Mor were assessing him, as if deciding what to do with him. But she paid little attention to what was being said, focusing instead on the Shadowsinger, searching for any sign of discomfort or – gods forbid – wounds. She sighed in relief when she found none, unsure of why she'd been so worried in the first place.

The conversation halted, and she whirled to see Rhysand appear in the doorway. Feyre sank to her knees, tears in her eyes, and he was immediately there to hold her. “My love,” he whispered, though they all heard it in the silence. “My mate.”

Once again, Y/N felt a slight tug in her chest, and her gaze was drawn to Azriel. She found him already looking at her, but when their eyes met,  he seemed to shrink into his shadows like he wanted to disappear. She unconsciously rubbed her chest as she averted her gaze.

“Go find somewhere else to be for a while,” Rhys ordered them.

One by one, they filed out the door and onto the street. Azriel declared he was going to fly her back to the House of Wind, the others announcing they’d be waiting in Amren's apartment until given the order to return to the townhouse. And so Y/N found herself in Azriel's arms for the third time in the span of less than two hours.

Despite her increased heart rate, she felt like a bit of a burden, needing to be carried around by him when he obviously had more pressing matters to take care of. Yet she couldn't deny the safety she felt in his arms while they flew toward the mountain and its house.

“Az,” she said after a couple minutes, “that male you brought back with Feyre–”

He looked down at her. “Lucien?”

Y/N nodded. “That day in Hybern, he… he said Elain was his mate.”

Azriel aimed for one of the balconies of the House of Wind. “What about it?”

“Fey and Rhys are mates as well,” she added, her brow furrowed. The High Lord had referred to her friend as such many times over the last few weeks.

The Shadowsinger landed and set her down, looking at her as if urging her to continue, not sure what she was trying to say. But he seemed to be holding his breath.

Maybe she should just let him go back to the others and keep her questions for later. But instead she asked, “What is a mate?”

Azriel tensed. She thought he might not answer, but then he spoke, his tone carrying a hint of reverence. “Mates are… equals, in every way. It's a very rare bond, but it's so deep and powerful that it's cherished and honored above others. Even marriage.”

Y/N rubbed her chest, the spot where she kept feeling that pull. Azriel cocked his head, noting the movement. She should definitely let him go, yet he made no movement to leave, and she found herself blurting out, “Do you have a mate?”

His shadows stilled their constant swirling around him. Maybe it was rude to ask, or it was a sensitive topic for him. Whatever the reason, she shouldn't–

“I do,” he answered, right as she was about to apologize. “I've found her recently.”

Her heart dropped. She didn't know why the idea of him with a mate bothered her, but that damn feeling in her chest grew stronger, and she had to resist the urge to rub it again.

“How is she?”

Why couldn't she keep her mouth shut, why did she have to keep asking questions? Why did she even care if Azriel had a mate or not? She'd just learnt what that meant anyway. At least her voice sounded soft and genuinely curious, not at all clipped – a small consolation.

“She is… kind, and gentle.” He spoke slowly, his words chosen carefully. But then his eyes softened and his shadows began to move again, a few tendrils stretching out towards her. “She's a lot like you, actually.”

All she took from his answer – what she chose to focus on, anyway – was that Azriel saw her as kind and gentle and that she reminded him of someone as important as his mate. Though it still stung a little, if she had to be honest. 

“Well,” she replied, her tone lighter as she took a step back. She smiled up at him. “She's lucky to have you, Az.”

She meant it. If he was even just half as sweet and caring with his mate as he'd been with her that first week after Hybern, then his mate was a really lucky girl. But the thought caused guilt to eat away at her insides. All those times she'd asked him for help – with her baths or to stay with her until she fell asleep – were all moments she'd stolen from him when he could have been with his mate instead. Every time he'd brought her food and checked on her, or even just spent a few hours in comfortable silence as she adjusted to her new life and body.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured, unaware of the flustered expression on Azriel's face after her last comment. “When you helped me, I… I never meant to keep you from her. I hope she doesn't–”

“Don't worry about it,” he cut her off, a small smile now playing on his lips. “I'll always be there to help you when you need it.”

Y/N smiled again, whispering a ‘thank you’, though she was still not entirely convinced. But Azriel extended his beautiful wings, ready to return to his friends.

“You know how to get back to your room from here, yes?” he inquired, glancing behind her at the doors that led inside. When she nodded, he continued, “I'll see you later, then.”

A beat of his wings, and he was gone.

With a sigh, Y/N turned to walk inside, mindlessly brushing that same spot near her heart.

~~~~~~

Azriel used the few minutes of flight to reel in his nerves.

What was he thinking, telling Y/N his mate was a lot like her? The question had caught him off guard, and his brain had stopped working. He couldn't very well tell her they were mates – not there, not like that – but he should have come up with some better answer.

She’s lucky to have you.

The words echoed in his mind. He knew she meant it, like she seemed to mean everything she said. But would she still feel lucky once she learned it was her, that she was the one who had him from the first moment he saw her a month ago?

The only thing he was sure about was that Y/N could feel the bond. He'd seen her rub her chest multiple times, always in the same place, right where he felt their bond in his own chest. She just didn't know what it meant. He couldn't blame her for it, not when she was still new to the faerie world.

Even as he joined the others in Amren's apartment, it was difficult to keep his attention on the conversation, on keeping an eye on Lucien, on what their next step would be. For the first time in decades, he was having troubles focusing, his mind constantly shifting to Y/N.

He couldn't go on like this. He had to tell her. He'd waited because she was still processing everything she'd gone through, but now she was feeling better. And she'd asked about mates. She deserved to know.

Azriel made his decision. Next time they'd be alone, he'd tell her the whole truth. Hoping she'd understand and not push him away.

He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows

֍֍֍֍֍

Read part 3 here!

[delzinrowe]

They Find Your Toys [PART A] - HEADCANON

A/N: I have nothing to say about this... WARNINGS: May be considered NSFW. Nothing explicit. F!Reader SUMMARY: Self-explanatory. Their reaction when they find your toys. [Established relationship]. INCLUDES: ★ Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Yuta, Toge, Maki, Takuma ★ → PART B

YUJI ITADORI... This boy, as sweet and naive he can be, he’s not an idiot. He’s seen magazines, he’s got access to the internet, of course he knows what those toys are and how you use them. But considering you’re his girlfriend, he values and respects your privacy. Therefore, no matter how he found it (possibly by changing your bed sheets because he wanted to do something nice for you) this sweet green flag would simply put the toy back to where it was. He wouldn’t even mention it because he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed (there’s no reason for it anyways).

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO... Among the students Megumi is pretty much the one that blushes the easiest. Finding your toys, for whatever reason, would render him frozen in place for a good five minutes. His mind would go blank. Does he think you’re attractive? Absolutely. Has he had inappropriate thoughts of you? Yes, even if he would never admit it. But does he feel even remotely okay finding your toys? Hell no. He’d put it back so fast, and leave your room immediately. Maybe even the building. Hell, he’d probably leave the entire city in a heartbeat before his face gets any redder. And don’t you dare mention to him that your toy was suddenly placed somewhere else. Poor Megumi would suffer a heart attack from embarrassment.

NOBARA KUGISAKI... She’d most probably be torn about what to think and what to do. As a girl herself she’s extremely curious. With all this sorcerer nonsense she barely even has time for a beauty face mask, much less to take care of her stress in that way. She might even try it out after properly cleaning it. (Always clean your toys before and after use!!!) Afterwards she’d clean it and put it back. She’s not too shy to bring it up, although she does blush when she mentions it. Once the initial awkwardness fades away for the most part you two would potentially make your own experiences with the toy together.

YUTA OKKOTSU… Listen, pre Shibuya/Culling Games this boy would be an entire blushing mess, stammering to himself after stumbling over your toy while helping you clean your room. When you’re not in the room he would quickly put it back where he found it.

Now… Post Shibuya/Culling Games, he lost a lot of his initial shyness, having learned a lot through his short time surrounded by mature adults. Also, this boy has access to the internet, let’s not kid ourselves. After Culling Games he matured a lot and his confidence is stronger, he knows there are some spots he might not reach well, or probably neglected, which is why he’d use his next chance with you to try out a bunch of things he googled. Most of them have you forget that you even had a toy to begin with. And with him constantly learning new tricks, you might not ever need your toy at all anymore.

TOGE INUMAKI… Oh this boy is pouty and upset as can be. He can’t seem to understand why you would need a toy if he tries so hard to satisfy you. He might not look like it, but he’s sensitive, and he’d take it to heart, as much as he’d try not to. He’d start wondering if he is doing something wrong or if he’s not enough. You notice that when he’s even less vocal than usual, not even using his rice ball ingredients to troll people. When you ask him he can’t help but “blurt out” (with unintelligible speech) about the toy he found. It takes you a while to understand but eventually you’re blushing like crazy while reassuring him that you never used it (lie) because it was a stupid gag present from Nobara (another lie). He immediately calms down and seems happy again. You are far too embarrassed to tell him that you used the toy regularly before getting physical with him, but not having touched it since, because he's treating you so well. You’ll just put the toy in a box to forget about.

MAKI ZENIN… Depending on how far your relationship has progressed, this would be a turning point. If you’re not even close to being physical, she’d be decent to put it away and not mention it. If you’re touched base and gotten handsy, she’d use it as an ice breaker to advance further, albeit with a certain level of understanding and a bit of romance. If you’ve gotten very physical before, she’d hide it somewhere close and take out your toy during your passionate love making, adding it to the session and intensifying both your pleasure.

Either way, Maki wouldn't be too shy when finding it in the first place, she'd most probably already have one or two toys of her own. At most she'd be disappointed in your choice of toy.

TAKUMA INO... For being the oldest of the youngest he’s definitely not the most mature one. He reverts back into a stupid horny teenager the instant he finds your toy. Just imagining his gorgeous girlfriend using that on herself is enough to rile him up extremely. Whatever you’re doing right now, it has to wait. He’s bombarding you with messages about how he misses you, how he wants you home, how his little friend misses you. When you ask him why he suddenly seems so overly horny, all he replies with is a picture of your toy, with the words “I don’t have any toy I can use when I miss you”. Oddly enough, that’s strangely romantic. He almost expects you to reply “use your hand”, but come on, who could resist our favourite skater boy? Of course you’d excuse yourself from whatever you’re doing and rush home to him. After he shows you just how much he missed you, you tell him that the toy doesn’t even come close to him, because you know that secretly his pride is a little wounded at his girlfriend having to use a toy. At which she smiles brightly like a golden retriever.

[pedgito]

𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐒 ╳ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Six: Epilogue

Chapter Summary: You spend a year trying to forget about Joel, with no avail. And Joel, who's life has changed in ways he never anticipated lead to a year full of obstacles, until one fateful day when he sees you again.

Chapter Warnings: (6k) : no outbreak, the aftermath, lots of feelings, some parenting issues within joel's relationship with sarah's mom, reader still having no idea wtf to do with her life, intense feelings between joel/reader, underlying lust for each other (i mean, are we surprised?), open-ended ending

Life doesn’t just fall back into place, as much as you wished it had.

For you, it takes more than a few days or weeks, rather several months to not ache from the loss of Joel, something so special to you for such a short period of your life. His gift, the small carved wolf he’d given you for Christmas sat beside your bed, something you fell asleep to and woke to every morning—after a while, fortunately, it was less of a burden to look at and more of a beautiful reminder.

Your relationship with your family slowly improves, though it is rocky at first. You’re an adult, but it doesn’t stop the constant prying questions and worries about your life—something you have to set boundaries around. But, as a whole, you find that giving them a chance to improve and better their relationship with you is better than nothing at all. 

And you want to say that you’ve figured out college and exactly what you wanted to do with your life, but it isn’t even close to being on your radar—and you enjoy your job now, working as one of the few employees at your local bookstore along with a serving job at the diner down the road, closer to the suburbs. You still keep your apartment in Austin and the commute from the city to there isn’t horrible, but it could be better.

There are long weeks, a few moments when Joel fades from your mind almost completely—but as fate would have it, something would remind you of him.

At first, it was nearly everything.

Coffee in the early mornings when you walked beyond the coffee shop beside the bookstore, the smell of coffee beans like a pavlovian response, heartbeat skipping at the memory of Joel, smiling softly around the rim of his cup as he sipped away. Sometimes so noisy that you know it was only to annoy you.

Or, it’s music. God awful country that had you grimacing at the first note, knowing Joel would be nodding his head along without a problem, somehow managing to find some enjoyment in it. Other times, it’s the music you listened to often, knowing he’d take interest in and probably like himself. Usually you would have a quiet playlist of music playing over the radio in the bookstore and even that takes a few months to feel like less of a thing.

Sometimes, it was nothing at all. A gruff clear of the throat could make you think Joel was in your presence, the sight of that green flannel he never took off, worn on a body that didn’t belong to him.

You’d like to think that Joel didn’t matter to you. That he didn’t matter at all.

But, that was so far from what was believable. 

And to his credit, he does get you the money for the cabin refunded.

It comes a few weeks after you arrive back in Austin, toward the end of January. It didn’t have any other note than a ‘Sorry for the inconvenience over the holiday and that you couldn't stay—here's your refund for the cabin’. So, essentially, Joel had lied to them. 

You couldn’t even blame him, really. He’d done well on his promise.

-

For Joel, there are waves of intensity when he thinks of you.

He doesn’t go out often anymore, keeping himself inside rather than finding a reason to go out on weekends and late nights after a rough day at work—he’s found easier ways to cope with the loneliness, taking up his wood carving more seriously. He set up a small area in his bedroom that he spends most of his time in now, carving out and selling personalized items for extra money on the side.

Sarah had to explain him through setting up his own shop online over the phone, but once it was said and done, he was able to manage fine.

And, maybe it was some other-worldly being sending him a gift, but a few months after he arrives back in Austin, still reeling, he gets a call from Sarah—mostly her crying and a lot of Joel consoling her down to an understandable, calmer state. In that time, he learns of just how much has changed since he’d went away for that month and in the short period that he didn’t have contact with Sarah due to her mother and her resistance to allowing Joel any leeway or fairness in their strained relationship, if you could call it that.

Sarah was hysterical, going on and on about how she was never going to see him again.

“Babygirl, slow down, please,” He begged, struggling to make out anything beyond the sobs, “I can’t understand you when you’re cryin’ like that. Are you okay?”

“I’m—I’m not supposed to call you.” She stammers, her cries dying out slowly, “She said I was grounded and took my phone but dad—she’s going to get me in trouble when she finds out that–that I called you.”

“That’s not possible, alright?” He tells her, trying to remain level-headed, “You can call me anytime you want, you know that.”

“She—She won’t tell you,” Sarah’s voice is hushed, like she’s hiding and trying not to get caught as she talks over the other line, “but mom got a new job, it’s in Las Vegas.”

Joel feels the anger beginning to build quickly, having a faint idea where this was heading but not wanting to direct any of it toward his daughter.

“Baby, go find your mom and put her on the phone.” He tells her soft but stern, feeling his phone pop under his grip, hoping that he hadn’t cracked it, but trying to simmer down his rage for his own good.

“She’s gonna be mad, dad.”

“Sarah,” He tells her once, and it’s enough, “Get your mom.”

The talk doesn’t go well, but it also doesn’t go horrible either.

“You’re not takin’ her from me,” It’s the first thing he says, not allowing a word from her as he hears her breath over the phone, “and you’re not gonna get her in trouble for tellin’ me either.”

“Joel—”

“No, I don’t want to hear what excuses you have this time.” He continues, “We have a custody agreement—you break that, I’m takin’ you to court without a goddamn second of hesitation. You already keep her enough from me as is, knowing she likes it here more. You’re never around, you leave her with a nanny all the fuckin’ time. And you want to up and move out of the state without tellin’ me?”

“I was gonna tell you—”

“What, when you were already moved?” Joel retorts, “That why you took Sarah’s phone away, because she was tryin’ to warn me about all this? You’ve got a lot of fuckin’ nerve to think you can just take her like that.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been so irresponsible you would have her more. It’s not my fault you made choices that endangered our daughter and uprooted my plans, having to become the sole provider because you’re goddamn alcoholic—”

“Look, I know the choices I made. I’ve paid for them, for years now. It was one—one fuckin’ time in my life. If you think I’m gonna let you take her from me now, like that, you’ve lost your mind. I will take you to court over this.”

In the end, it does end up going through the process of rearranging custody—Joel no longer tied down by his charges and his willingness to openly test as asked, whenever, and that he take primary custody of her in the weeks that her mother would be away in Nevada for work, which ended up being about a week within every month.

It’s a big shift for Joel, but one he takes on willingly and with so much confidence that it doesn’t phase him, in fact, it feels like nothing has changed. Just that Sarah is a constant in his life, physically, rather than something out of his reach. 

By July, she’s with him full-time when she’s not with her mother, and even those weeks are often cut short, called off for emergencies and ultimately ending with Joel having to pick her up after a few days—it didn’t bother him, it never would. 

And he’s thankful for Sarah, because she occupies his mind entirely.

He feels bad for the days he doesn’t think of you at all, so wound up in his own daily life and routine that he doesn’t even have a minute to think about anything else—but, maybe it was better that way.

But, there’s a brief moment when the first snowfall happens that year, later in November around the time that Sarah is taking a break from school for the holidays, that she hits him with a question he doesn’t expect, nor does he understand how she even came to the conclusion in her own mind.

“Hey, dad,” She speaks curiously, head turned to him over the couch to look at him where he stood in the kitchen, “who took that picture last year that you sent?”

“What are you talkin’ bout, babygirl?” He asks, standing over the stove as he cooked dinner, lounging in his pajamas and cooking something of a semblance of what could be Thanksgiving–but, it was just him, Sarah, and Tommy, so it wasn’t as extravagant as it needed to be.

“That picture of you with the snowman last year—for Christmas?” Her eyes are searching his face, not for an answer but rather because she has that innocence that children and young teen hold, the obliviousness to everything but what is going in their world—Joel shakes his head, your face flashing in his mind as he white knuckles the spoon he’s using to stir and thinks about lying.

He wants to lie. He should. 

But, he can’t remember a time he’s ever lied to Sarah outside of something for her own protection—and this was something Joel thought of fondly, his time shared with you.

So, he doesn’t lie.

“I, uh—met a friend there. She helped me out and took a picture to make sure I could send somethin’ to you, seein’ as I didn’t get to spend the time I wanted with you last year.”

“Oh,” Sarah chews at the inside of her cheek, “a girl?”

“Yes, babygirl.”

Sarah nods—the meticulous and intelligent child she is, she catches the lingering smile on Joel’s face and leans in, arm slung over the back of the couch as she asked another question.

“So, when you say friend—” She purses her lips together, eyes squinting with accusation

“Sarah.” It’s a warning to ease off, but if anything, it makes her giggle.

“Oh, so, not a friend.” She surmises, “Got it.”

She was too damn smart for her own good.

“Do you still talk to her?” She asks, fully aware of how things were with Joel and her mother, that they didn’t get along from the jump despite their willingness to work together to make sure she had some semblance of a normal childhood with both parents in the picture—it was never the way she wanted it to be, but it was out of her control.

She was fourteen now, she had the right to understand things. She questioned Joel everyday, sometimes about things even he didn’t understand. And he’s thankful to have her around, knowing she keeps him on his toes, never knowing what to expect.

“No, babygirl. I don’t.”

Joel’s bitterness about it isn’t evident in his voice, but she sees it in the way his eyes flick away briefly, toward his room. But, the knock at the door is a lifesaver, pulling them both out of the moment.

“Should be uncle Tommy, get the door.” He tells her.

She doesn’t ask about it again, thankfully. Joel doesn’t know how much more he could handle explaining to her, knowing you were only a memory to him now.

-

Christmas comes quick too, the year flying by as Joel switches into full dad mode without a single hesitation. School, sports, teenagers—it’s a big change but he handles it with as much ease as he can, along with work and everything else he’s taken on.

“Dad, you remember that bookstore we passed the other day?” Sarah asks, bugging her dad from the passenger seat as they leave their third store for the day, giving Sarah free-range to spend her money she’d accumulated over the holiday. “Next to that coffee shop you like to go to sometimes.”

“Yeah—that your last stop for the day?” Joel asks curiously, but also silently hoping she’d agree, exhausted out of his mind and ready to take a nap on the couch the moment they got home–a mix of older age and being a parent, never feeling like the sleep he got was enough. 

“Yes, I promise.” Sarah smiles, settling into her seat comfortably and clicking the seatbelt into place.

Luckily, it isn’t too far of a drive from where they were, a few blocks down and a couple of turns later and Joel is taking an open parking spot in front of the coffee shop, not anticipating how busy the bookstore would be and Sarah can see it all over Joel’s face.

“People still read, dad.” Sarah chides, “You know that, right?”

‘Course I do, smartass.”

He was well aware of a certain someone’s reading habits.

-

The day after Christmas is almost never calm, packed to the brim with kids eager to spend their parent’s money on books and toys and things that would inevitably get trashed or lost eventually—but it’s nice. The shift will fly by, you’ll make a lot of children happy, and you’ll go home. An easy day.

So easy that it seemed too good to be true.

You find a lull in the rush, slipping into the backroom to grab a box of books for reshelving, too busy in your own head as your crouched on the floor behind the counter to open the box, unaware of the presence of a couple customers that loomed near the front entrance, circling a trove of books while a crowd of others filtered out through the front doors. The bells ring and despite looking, you still let out the normal greeting and a few kind words.

“Welcome in, I’ll be with you in a minute.” You say sweetly, tucked away and out of sight.

“Oh, that’s alright—my daughter is just havin’ a look around.”

And if there was a surefire way to make your heart stop—it was that voice.

That voice you knew so well that there wasn’t even the smallest doubt in your mind.

You take a deep breath, lugging the open box in your arms as you haul it to a nearby table and Joel doesn’t even think before he’s offering to help, still blissfully unaware of the trap he’s set himself up in, only freezing when you push his hand away gently.

“I’ve got it, Joel.” You say softly, your face tilting up into view and his eyes pulling to yours in an instant, the mix of panic and relief setting in at the same time—the feeling so intense he almost forgets where he is. “It’s fine.”

Joel clears his throat, glancing over at Sarah who is a few aisle deep, in her own world as she sifted through the selection of books.

“Well, I guess you found me.” You said playfully, a way to ease the worry that you could see crossing his face, thinking that he’d crossed a line unknowingly. Joel never asked where you worked, never even put together the connection or possibility that you could work in a bookstore this close to his home, the area he visited almost weekly. He’s gotten coffee next door more times than he can count on two hands and the idea that you were just a few feet out of reach—something dies inside of him. “Hey.”

His fist curls, restraining the instinct to reach out and touch you, held tight at his side as he trades a few quick looks between you and Sarah, like he’s fighting a losing battle within him.

It’s been a year. A year since he’s seen you, months since he’s thought about you like he did those first few weeks, vivid dreams like he was back in the cabin all over again. It all rushes back in an instant and you can see it in the trading gaze you share, your breath shallowing, slightly turning away to continue the task at hand, organizing the books in neat piles. Joel looks on the brink of saying something again before a young girl, bright and shining smile and ringlet curls that frame her face perfectly, bouncing at her shoulders as she comes to stand beside Joel.

Sarah. This was Sarah.

“Dad, come on,” She yanks at his wrist, fingers curling around his forearm, “I need you to carry the books I wanna buy.”

“O—okay, babygirl.” He nods, a responding touch as he placates her impatience and nods, “Let’s go.”

And when he leaves, even if it was just briefly, you have a moment to breathe. It stings, eyes squeezing closed as you force away the threat of burning tears, staring out at busy street to force yourself to think about anything but Joel—you were finally at a place where things felt normal, like you hadn’t been reeling over him for most of this time.

The roles were switched, where Joel should’ve been the one still caught up with the idea you, he was moved on and focused on other things—but you, it was the most intense heartache you’ve ever felt seeing him again. 

He’s so much softer around her—a color to him that radiates around him. He hasn’t changed in the sense that he mostly appears the same. Same ridiculous flannel over a plain shirt, straight-cut jeans over heavy boots, for work or not. That same watch snug around his wrist, hair slightly grown out and curling at the ends, facial hair in full force.

It was like no time had passed.

But clearly, so much had.

Eventually you wrap up, hiding behind the counter again as you store the empty box away, tapping mindlessly at the surface of the counter as you try not to look his way and fail, catching his gaze everytime. He was looking at you too and he couldn’t stop—looking helpless as he hauled a mountain of books in his arm, pulled along by the younger girl.

Time passes slow, feeling torturous until Joel and Sarah finally make their way to the front counter, a forced smile flashing across your face that no one would be able to see through—it was perfected for times like these, feeling so out of your body that you worked on auto-pilot, scanning the books with a few off-hand compliments of how much you loved a certain one or if you enjoyed it, earning an innocent giggle from Sarah.

Joel smiles subtly, a hand on Sarah’s shoulder as he squeezes.

You note it, glancing up at Joel kindly. 

He was happier, so much happier than you met him a year ago. And you had a good idea why.

You read out the total and Sarah hands over a wad of cash that you sift through, gathering her change and carefully placing her books in the paper bag, listening to Joel and Sarah’s idle conversation.

“Oh, can we stop at the coffee shop next door that you like to go to?” Sarah asks, “Please? Last stop, I promise.”

It hurts, the instant it leaves her mouth you feel the way Joel locks his eyes on you.

He’s been there, right under your nose this entire time.

How long? How long had this been going on? Before? After?

The coincidence of Joel being the one in that cabinet seemed insignificant then, but not now.

“Yeah—yeah, uh—can you wait in the truck for me?” He asks, praying she doesn’t ask any more questions. “I’m gonna check if they have somethin’ real quick.”

Sarah eyes him weirdly, glancing at you briefly before she shrugs. “Okay.”

Joel watches her leave, waits until she’s in the truck and out of sight before he speaks.

“I didn’t know.” Joel says immediately, “I swear—god, if I would’ve just—”

“Hey,” You stop him, placing a hand against his palm that is pressed flat against the counter, “you’re fine. It’s okay.”

Were you okay? No. 

Working so hard to get him out of your mind was all for naught now, his palm turning face up to curl around your own briefly, his eyes flicking up slightly.

“I gotta go or she’s gonna bite my head off,” He tells you, but is quickly reaching for something in his back pocket.

His phone, which he swiftly slides across the table.

Is he asking for your number? Duh, of course he is.

“Just—in case you need anything.” Joel offers lamely, but you take it. “I—I thought you said you lived in the city?”

“I do,” You punch your number in quickly, without hesitation, “doesn’t mean I work there too.”

Fair point.

He wants to talk. You can see it on his face.

But, not here. Not like this.

He swipes his phone back, pocketing it with his free hand. And he nearly slips his hand from your own before you’re gripping him tight, holding him prisoner under your gaze.

“I’m free,” You tell him quickly, “L-later, after seven. Just—just text me, okay?”

The please felt too strong, so you restrain it in your mind.

A year—an entire fucking year. Wasted. There were so many questions you had, so many things you wanted answered. But, more importantly, you just wanted Joel.

Joel in whatever form he could offer, even if that was just a few minutes of his time after your shift, just for closure. Closure was all you needed to get over him.

“Got it, darlin.” He nods, pulling his hand from your grip gently. “I’ll be seein’ you.”

At least this time it was true.

-

Joel’s never been so thankful for Tommy in his life, cancelling his plans at the drop of hat for Sarah—which, given that it was his favorite and only niece, it was never an issue. 

Joel didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone, even at her age, and having Tommy around offered some peace of mind—but it also led to a line of questioning Joel wasn’t ready to answer.

“Got a hot date then?” Tommy jokes when he shows up at his front door later that evening, “Who is it?”

Joel closes the door with a silent click as he ignores his brother, walking back into the kitchen to pocket his car keys and sending a quick text to your number.

Joel: Now a good time?

You: I’m closing but I’ll be off in the next half hour.

Joel: Okay.

He was leaving already anyways, his mind itching for answers to lingering questions and the urge to be near you again after so long—his once clear head now filled with the thought of you, distant memories now vivid scenes playing in his head.

“Give me a couple hours,” Joel tells him, “that’s it—Sarah’s in her room, doubt she’ll come out for the rest of the night.”

Tommy raises an eyebrow in question, searching in the fridge for a beer he won’t find—it was a bad habit he was trying to break himself, so he settles on a can of soda and taps the top of the aluminum can before opening it.

“Some kind of project—I don’t know,” He didn’t try to understand anymore, Sarah was always working on something and Joel didn’t need to know everything, so he let it be, “just two hours, alright?”

“Got it, brother.” He tips the can gently in a way of saying get the fuck on already and leave, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

As if there was anything Tommy wouldn’t.

Joel rolls his eyes and leaves without another word.

-

When he pulls up around the back of the line of shops, the lights are already off in the surrounding businesses and he can spot a shadow by the backdoor, fumbling with a doorknob. He rolls down his window so you can see his face, like you might’ve forgotten the truck he drove—the same hunk of metal he brought with him then.

When you turn, you spot him with a smile. You hold up a finger in wait as you toss you belongings in your car, quickly locking the vehicle and pocketing your own keys into your jacket as you made your way to his truck, brimming with anxiety and uncertainty as you climbed inside, welcomed by the warmth of the air coming from the car vents, settling in as comfortably as you could.

It was exactly the same, aside from a small picture of Joel and Sarah that hung around the rearview mirror—it looked new, it had to be. You smile again, unsure and awkward.

“So, uh—”

“I didn’t know.” Joel quickly interrupts, easing the curiousness you had around the one question you were terrified to ask.

Had he known the entire time? Had he just been avoiding you until he couldn’t anymore? It seemed unlikely, but the doubt slipped in regardless. 

You nod slowly, squeezing your hands together, the cold still prickling your skin uncomfortably.

Joel notices, turning in his seat to reach toward the back, pulling out a spare blanket he kept in the back for no particular reason other than just to have it—but suddenly he’s eternally thankful that it’s there.

“Thank you, Joel.” You tell him, draping it over your crossed legs.

He’s missed the way you say his name so gently, like he wasn’t the monster he constantly viewed himself as.

“Do you wanna go somewhere?” Joel asks softly, hand gripping the steering wheel firmly, the other resting relaxed against his thigh.

“Uh, sure—I don’t really feel like going anywhere public, if that’s okay.” You tell him honestly, “I’ve been around people all day and I just need a minute.”

Joel understands, “I got the perfect spot for that, darlin’.”

And for a moment, you’re shifted back to before, the gentle smile he throws your way like a sudden flash of the Joel you’re familiar with.

-

Joel found the spot by accident, really. Years ago. It was on the outskirts of the neighborhood he lived in, a small cutoff near a flock of trees that led out to a larger opening and a small cliff—only a few feet of a drop off, but it granted a nice view of the city and businesses that lined the surrounding neighborhoods. And luckily, on a night like tonight with no glow of the moon to cast down, they were nearly invisible from where Joel had parked under a hanging tree, turning his truck off with finality as they were soon shrouded in darkness and silence, only the luminescence from the nearby streetlights allowing some type of visibility.

“So, how has your holiday been? With Sarah and all?”

You knew it was his turn this year, he’d explained that much. You felt terrible for pulling him away from her, even if it was just for a brief, selfish moment.

Joel laughs quietly, fumbling with his keys in his hands.

“Yeah, about that—” Joel doesn’t see why he needs to make up an excuse or be vague, considering how much you knew then and how much you know now, so he tells you, “she’s been with me since around the end of summer, not full time but mostly—to answer your question though, it’s been good.”

“O-Oh, and that’s…good, too. I’m hoping?” You ask hesitantly.

“Her mom was tryin’ to move without lettin’ me know—Sarah told me because she was scared. It was a long process but we eventually worked out an agreement with stipulations. Regardless, I’m happy with how things are now. Her mom was never around much for her anyways—like she was more of a chore to her than anything.”

“You deserve her, Joel. Sarah. I think she’s good for you, being around and stuff.” You tell him, despite how much you didn’t know or understand. He seemed lighter, happier, less burdened by his own thoughts.

“Thanks,” He says softly, “—and you, how have you been?”

He drops his keys in the cupholder and turns more toward you, knee hiked up slightly onto the seat—mimicking his actions you move too, feeling like you were back on the couch in the cabin, amped up and ready to talk for hours about nothing and everything.

“I’ve been okay,” You pull at the sleeve of your jacket, running your finger along the pattern of your sleeve, the bumps in the stitching, “I spent Christmas Eve with my parents, if that’s any indication.”

Joel smiles wider than, knowing you listened and took his advice. 

He was lucky to have a second chance—sometimes that’s all anyone needed.

“I missed you—” You utter quietly, overwhelmed with the feelings as you look away, eyes turned downwards and stinging with tears that you couldn’t stop from flowing, blinking them away and wiping at the even quicker, “fuck, I’m sorry.”

Joel has an arm open to you silently when you look up, no pestering or ordering you around, allowing you to make the choose to seek comfort from him if you felt comfortable with it, knowing that a year without someone was a long time—and even longer when you had no inclination of ever seeing that person again. 

But really, there was no way you would have been able to avoid each other any longer.

This had to mean something.

You scoot into his arms, adjusting the blanket over the both of you and crying quietly, the low hum of the wind picking up outside of the truck causing the cab to sway slightly. Joel squeezes you gently, hand tucked and curled around your bicep.

“It took me months to stop thinking about you,” You admit, “I tried—so hard, nothing worked. And then the one day that I don’t have a moment to stop and let my mind think, you walked in. What the fuck does that mean, Joel?”

Joel wipes your tears wordlessly, letting the emotion flow through you, feeling a rush of them all at once. He had learned to bury his own, keeping that steely gaze as he tried to remain steady for you, like an anchor.

“You know–Sarah asked about you a few weeks ago,” Joel tells you suddenly, pulling your gaze up to him in subtle shock, “not—not like that. She doesn’t know about you, but she asked about that picture, about who took it. I didn’t even think about that at the time, but she’s so damn intuitive.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her what she should hear,” Joel explains, “That I had a friend there—’course she knew it wasn’t just that. But, she’s young. She doesn’t need to know about any of that.”

You nod quietly and Joel sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I just—I feel guilty for being so caught up in all of the shit going on in my life that I haven’t thought about you in so long. But, then I saw you today and it’s like my brain can’t focus on anything else. And I know if I let this go it would bother me more.”

“So, you need closure?” You ask hesitantly, wondering if that was the purpose of this.

And you could accept that. You would have to, no matter how much it hurt to do.

Joel’s brow furrows in frustration, “No—no, that’s not even—”

Joel sighs again, heavily through his nose.

“Darlin’, I don’t know what I want anymore.”

You stare up at him sadly, chewing at the inside of your bottom lip as he looks down at you too, looking just as distraught.

He does know one thing he wants, but he’s not sure in what capacity he was allowed to have it—after all, you did say that he and you would never work in the real world.

Those words were more apparent than ever, Joel feeling forced to hide you. He didn’t want that, he couldn’t live like that. But, here he was—staring you down with nothing else on his mind other than the urge to kiss you, consume you, and keep you here with him for as long as he could.

He didn’t want to let you go again.

You need him to kiss you, hoping that the desperation in your eyes comes across to him, feeds him the signs he’s so desperately seeking and that you could pretend this could work for a brief time.

Neither of you ask, instead you both move at the same time. Lips connecting in a gentle kiss that is riddled with hesitancy, Joel’s hand slowly coming up to cup your cheek. The press of soft flesh against each other, inhaling sharply as you parted briefly before returning the kiss more forcefully, leaving Joel desperate to have you around him. He’s pulling at your arm, hoping that his silent conveyance of urgency will help.

You hike your leg over his, spreading yourself out over his lap easily, lips never disconnecting, too caught up in the moment to allow for even the smallest breath of air, kisses traded in a messy battle as Joel squeezes and grabs, like he’s trying to memorize you again, leaving no part of you untouched.

“What do you want, Joel?” You ask through a slew of kisses, finally able to fist his shirt and push him away a few inches, catching his lustful gaze, pupils dilated. 

“Baby—I,” He chuckles, a sad noise that doesn’t come across as humorous, your head cradled between his hands, thumbs rubbing at the underside of your jaw, “I’m used to wanting things I can’t have. This ain’t new to me.”

You don’t speak, feeling he has more to say as he kisses you once more, a slow and passionate press of your lips before he parts again, briefly.

“My luck has changed. I’m aware. And everything in me is tellin’ me to push it and hope that I won’t have to let you go again, but that isn’t up to me.”

“There’s things you can’t separate yourself from, you know that.” You tell him, “And if you tie yourself to me, the things people will say about you—that they’ll say about me. You can’t be okay with that, can you?”

“I don’t care about them or any of that,” Joel tells you honestly, “the only thing I care about is the people in my life—baby, I want you in my life. Doesn’t matter how. But, if we cut ties here, tonight. I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. I worked so hard to stop thinking about you and I can throw that away for some half-assed closure.”

Sex. He meant sex, knowing you both were already halfway to the point of thinking it.

“I just—how do we know if this is real?” You question him. 

It’s a valid thing to worry about, knowing how different things are on the outside, not miles away in a cabin that was only accessible to the both of you.

“I can show you, if you give this a chance.” Joel counters—and you try to search his face for any sign of hesitancy or uncertainness about you, but all it bleeds is adoration.

Something akin to love but not quite.

“How about a date first?” You ask softly.

Joel laughs heartily now, letting you slump against him as your foreheads pressed together.

“Alright, a date first.” Joel agrees.

“Think you can handle that?” You tease.

“Baby, I can handle you just fine.”

It isn’t what you’re asking, but the answer makes your heart thump rapidly all the same. You weren’t sure where this would lead, but you were willing to take that risk for Joel.

Thank you for anyone who has stuck with this all the way through with my weekly posting or anyone who is binge-reading this all at once and has finally reached this chapter! I appreciate you, thank you (again), and please always feel free to come yell at me!

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: lucky i’m in love with my best friend

Summary: Damian knew better then to speak unauthorized to the press, especially after the less than platonic nature of what had just occurred. Oh well, no one expected a normal press conference for a Wayne coming out, not after the last few of them.

prompt that won on the Tumblr poll: "Is Wayne heir Damian Wayne gay?" "I don't know," Damian smirks, grabbing Jon's hand. "Maybe a little."

Theoretically, Damian should have known better than to egg on the press. After all, he’d been raised in the spotlight since his mother had dropped him on his father’s doorstep, trained in PR perfection, and generally had distaste for the scandals or big things his family would cause, purposefully or not. 

But sometimes it was just so hard not to, especially when it was so amusing to see them scouting for any crumb of information, drawing their own far-fetched conclusions that made them seem even stupider to those who knew the truth.

The annual Wayne gala had arrived, and speculations about just who the Wayne boys would be bringing as their dates were up in the air. Reporters were getting antsy as they always did that time of year, sloppily hidden and jumping for scoops. Tabloids were printing off theory after theory, each more laughable than the last, especially about the youngest Wayne. 

This year, Damian was finally considered of age to be taking a proper date, despite the fact that they had never managed to catch him with a romantic partner of any kind—or at least with one of the female variety. 

Reporters swarmed the entrances of the gala, taking pictures and brandishing their microphones like swords. Damian scoffed as he looked outside the tinted window of their limo.

“Vultures, the lot of them.” 

“You’ve had years to get used to it by now.” Tim said from across the car. “Complaining only makes it worse.”

He scowled as his eldest brother pulled him into a headlock, threatening to mess up his delicately arranged hair.

“Lighten up, Baby Bat! Jon goes every year, and I think some of your school friends will show up.”

“Tt.” He made a valiant effort to push his brother away without messing up his outfit, straightening his jacket, and smoothing out the wrinkles that weren’t there.

“Who’re you tryn’ to impress?” Jason snorted, legs crossed over. Damian blessed his training, keeping his face straight and his heartbeat steady while fighting to cool his rising body temperature. 

“Just because I despise these things does not mean I wish to go looking like a slob. Although I suppose the sentiment is not often shared.”

He looked around the car, his father in the corner, Tim on his phone, Duke with his headphones blocking out the conversations, Jason with a book, and Dick at his side scrolling through social media. Cassandra and Stephanie had taken the other limo with Barbara, insisting it was a girls-only deal. Tim had decided to go with Bart, Cassie, and Kon, much to Bruce’s despair, and the three of them would be arriving on their own, in whatever shape Damian couldn’t say. 

No one responded to his quite obvious jab, as was to be expected. His brothers often remarked that he would get prickly in times like these, which was completely preposterous, but that wasn't the point. The point of this was that they were pulling up to the entrance and would be completely bombarded by people who hadn’t anything better to do than ask invasive questions and draw incriminating conclusions.

“Time to face the music!” His father said cheerily, already in his Brucie Wayne, father of six, not including the in-laws persona. 

“Dying again sounds nice, actually.” Jason muttered, shoving Dick out after Bruce. He went next, followed by Tim, Duke, and then Damian himself. 

“Damian, Damian, who’s your date for tonight? You seem to be missing one!”

“Mr. Drake-Wayne, care to comment on the recent Wayne Enterprises partnership?”

“Mr. Wayne, how is your most recent investment?”

They pushed past, stopping only to smile and wave at the cameras, making it safely through the doors and into the ballroom. Damian slipped away as Tim and Bruce were swarmed, with Dick and Duke veering off to the side to meet the girls. Jason had gone off in search of Roy Harper, no doubt, seeing as he’d invited the red-haired man as his date.

He found a relatively nice spot to hide in, scanning the room to see if any of his Gotham Academy schoolmates had been invited and if he had to avoid them. Finding none, he picked up a flute offered by a passing waiter (sparkling cider, goddammit.) and prayed to whatever deity would listen that no old people would come by to remark on how big he was getting and if he’d like to meet their granddaughter?

The dances had long since started, and he amused himself watching his family switch between making fools of themselves and actually being sweet. There was his sister, Cassandra leading Stephanie into an elegant dance, catching the awe of partygoers. 

And then there was Tim’s group, all of whom were failing spectacularly. Damian really didn’t expect much else, simply taking a picture for blackmail. As he was angling his camera, he heard rustling from behind him, making light steps as if someone were barely touching the ground. He relaxed, not even pretending to be surprised as hands came over his eyes and a chin came to rest on his shoulder.

“Guess who!” The voice of his farm boy came to his ears. “You only get one, so make sure it's good.”

“My significant annoyance.” Damian smirked, putting his flute to the side and tapping the hands over his eyes three times in a gentle gesture. 

“If that’s what you’re labeling this.” Jon grumbled, dropping his hands and glancing around to see how hidden they were before slipping his arms around Damian's waist. “I also accept better half, significant other, romantic partner, boyyyyyfriend~”

“Never say it like that again.” Damian sighed, letting the taller boy sway them back and forth to the soft music. 

They had a few seconds of silence before Jon quickly dropped his arms and pushed Damian away. Damian getting the hint and grabbing the flute of cider. The two of them went back into more of the open space, leaving some room between them.

“Hey Mom.” Jon waved, Damian just barked behind him. 

“Mrs. Lane.” He looked to the side. “Father.”

“You can call me Lois, Damian.” She said as she had since the first year of his and Jon's friendship. “Where did you boys disappear to?”

“Not causing any trouble, I hope.” Bruce grinned next to her, reaching out to ruffle his son’s hair. 

Damian dodged, with Jon standing in front of him dutifully. “No, Father. If I wished to cause a scandal, I would have done it by now.”

“I know, son.” Bruce said, tired parent bleeding into his tone. “Just watch what you’re doing. Some of the more bloodthirsty ones are out tonight, and not the ones like the Kents.”

Damian’s nose wrinkled, rolling his eyes and tugging on Jon’s suit jacket. Oh, that was something he hadn’t noticed before. “I understand, Father. However, if I am provoked, I cannot say I will mind my tongue.”

Bruce’s response was lost in the crowd as Damian pulled Jon along, unwilling to lose his partner in the masses. He wound up at a table where his siblings were residing, the two sitting at a respectable distance from each other. 

“Babies of the families!” Dick cheered as they sat down, Jon and Damian with similar expressions of distaste.

They were roped into the conversation, inching closer and closer with each moment. Damian felt an ankle hook over his, and he looked up to see Jon carrying on speaking, waving with his hands and laughing. He would be content to listen to him ramble forever. 

God, he was getting soft.

His other leg was kicked from under the table, and he turned in that direction, defense ready. He dropped it as he realized it was just Cass, who raised a teasing eyebrow at him.

“Have something to say, Cassandra?” He gritted out, daring her to say something. There was a reason Jon and he had kept their relationship under wraps for almost a year, and it certainly wasn’t for the press.

One of Damian’s siblings or Connor would find out and spread it to the next until the entirety of their stupidly large family knew, endlessly hounding both of them for the rest of the year. They would make a big deal out of nothing, insisting they couldn’t go anywhere together without a chaperone or the press seeing them, even though they were 17, dammit.

Cass looked between the two of them, shaking her head but keeping the smug look that had begun to rise. For the love of all that was holy, he hoped there wasn’t an on-going bet that she had just won. His siblings never did tire of humiliating him.

He pulled away from Jon, getting closer to his sister for better privacy. ”You are not to tell anyone; whatever you think is going on is absolutely not.” 

She shrugged at him before motioning to their father on the other side of the room. ”Better to tell now. Press are hungry.”

Better a sweet teen love story than whatever scandal was on the corner? Damian looked around their table, noting the disappearance of some couples, knowing she was correct. Leave it to him to save his siblings’ asses, yet again.

Besides, he’d rather tell them himself than have everyone find out from the gossip chain that was the super-youth community. Now, how to go about it?

”Hey.” Damian tapped on the table to catch Jon’s attention, speaking low enough that only someone with super-hearing could reach. ”Do you remember your ballroom dance lessons?”

A quick, nearly impalpable nod followed. Damian hummed in interest before asking, ”If you think you’re ready, we’ll announce it tonight. Ask me to dance in a few minutes when this dance ends and the other starts.”

The twitch of his lips let Damian know Jon was fighting a smile and struggling to keep his nonchalance, only nodding again.

As the dance ended and the next one began, Jon stood slowly, bowing at the waist in an overly dramatic show, looking up with a grin. 

“May I have this dance, darlin’?” A hand was held out, but he stayed in a bowing position. Murmurs and muffled laughter came from their siblings, Damon rolling his eyes, the action offset by the fond expression and hint of pink on his face.

“I suppose you may.” He placed his hand in Jon’s, following until they were swept into the dance. They could both feel the eyes on them, one more accustomed than the other.

Damian could feel Jon tense and caught his eyes, impossibly blue, flecks of purple highlighting it all. They would always be the thing he could never fully capture in his artwork—icy pools, both still and stormy, pulling him in until he felt like he was drawing in their waters. 

”Don’t mind them; eyes on me, my love.” He murmured, his hand tightening from where it was draped across his shoulder and neck. Jon gave a lopsided smile, spinning them around with the rest of the pairs on the dance floor. 

”Your dad is being followed.” He remarked. ”You know this means we’re going to have to talk to them. Our parents won’t be happy this is how we decided to come out.”

“Better than news getting wind of where Todd and Harper are right now, or someone accusing my father of something.” Damian lowered his voice. “And now I can show you off, beloved. Don’t you want everyone to know I'm yours instead of speculating about all the people I could be dating?”

Jon made a huffing noise, a flush making his freckles more prominent. “You're so mean to me, D.”

“It’s not mean; it’s true.” Damian chuckled as they stepped in time with the slow rhythm. “And I'll use my knowledge of you to my advantage.”

“I'll just have to keep you happy, then.” Jon tapped his forehead with Damian's gently as he turned to face him, the other boy’s cheeks darkening.

They bow to each other as Damian whispers in response, “That shouldn’t be hard; you’ve already done it. You, Jon Kent, have my whole heart, and I have yours, and that is what makes me happy.”

“Oh my God.” Jon pressed a hand to his cheek, his face going red. “You can’t just say things like that in public; I'll explode.”

They stepped off the floor, forgetting momentarily that they had just given a major opening to expose their relationship. No one was making a big deal out of it yet, despite them all noticing. They’d stopped paying attention to the stares fairly quickly, so neither could really tell when they stopped.

Bruce was a few heads away, Lois dragging Clark through the crowds, trying to beat out Vicki Vale, who was on a warpath to them.

“We’re fucked.” Jon muttered to his boyfriend, a rare public curse leaving him. There was one more escape route open, and Damian tugged him towards it, suddenly accosted by a recorder in his face.

”Shit.” Damian backed up into Jon, who stumbled, righting himself and his boyfriend quickly. “Uh, hello? If you’d like an interview, please schedule with my father.

“Please, Mr. Wayne, just a moment of your time.” A reporter in a loose dress shirt and fitted slacks blocked their path, big hoop earrings swinging.

Watching theirs, Damian subconsciously touched the gold cuff in his own ear that connected to a chain in his lobe. “I don’t think I can-”

“Tell me, one question that I know is on everyone’s mind right now-HEY!” They yelped as they were hip-checked to the side—another two recorders in his face now.

Damian looked up in surprise as Vicki Vale replaced the earlier reporter, who was still holding out their recorder. Lois came out of the crowd, pulling her husband by his tie and holding out her own device. Clark had a notepad and a nervous look, scribbling down whatever Lois was telling him to.

"Well, Damian, let’s hear it. Is the Wayne Heir gay?” Vicki waited expectantly, with Lois and the other reporter fuming beside her.

Damian looked at the three black devices in front of him, looked at his father, who was coming up behind him, and then at the Kents, Lois, who was mouthing that he didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to.

Then he looked at Jon. His Jon. He was tired of hiding and waiting, and he knew Jon was too. His taller boyfriend gave a tap three times to his arm, a silent permission on his side and a strengthening ‘I love you.’

He shoved down the nerves and willed his hands to stop becoming clammy, smirking at them as he leaned into the microphones.

“I don’t know.” Damian grinned, slipping his hand into Jon’s and squeezing it gently. “Maybe a little.”

Jon covered his mouth with his free hand, trying not to laugh, his mother giving him a nod. The amateur reporter smiled at him, Vicki lunging forward, before Bruce coughed loudly from behind them.

“If I could have a moment with my son, please.” He gave a pointed look at the two of them. ”Withoutrecorders.”

Vicki seemed about to retort; the other reported nodding frantically and scurrying away, not so subtly bumping into her as they passed, causing Vicki to follow after and yell.

“I know I said I wouldn't cause anything with the media, but-” Damian began, stopping as his father placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“While I wish you would have told me first so I could deal with the press properly, I want you to know that I'm proud of you and I love you how you are.”

He paused, confused, before he realized what he had technically just done and what his father was trying to say.

“Oh. Uh, thank you, Father.” 

“I would just like to say that I knew it.” Lois cut in, saving them from further awkwardness. “Jon couldn’t hide a secret about you in his life.”

“Mom!” Jon dropped his face to hide in Damian’s shoulder. “They don’t need to hear about that.”

“I would actually love to.” His boyfriend smirked as he groaned.

“I’m breaking up with you.” Jon informed him, his voice muffled by the suit. 

“You wouldn’t dare.” Damian reached up to tug on his curls. “You would perish without me, farm boy.”

“I would miss you too much.” He lifted his head from where it was buried in his shoulder before flushing and hiding again as his father cleared his throat. 

“Well, as lovely as this all is, you both need to be talked to. And sleepovers are postponed indefinitely. We are going to lay down some ground rules here, since you’re both still living with us.”

Damian sighed, while Jon groaned again. Lois laughed, reaching to ruffle both of their heads, getting the expected complaints. 

"Alright, lover boys, have your night.” She tugged on Bruce's sleeve, and Clark followed them both, leaving Jon and Damian standing in the crowd. 

“Wanna get out of here?” Jon whispered in his ear, his hands resting above his stomach and his chin on his shoulder.

“More than anything.” Damian responded, feeling the table with his siblings burning a hole in the side of his head. 

They untangle themselves from each other, slipping into the crowds and out through a window, Jon zooming them through the cloudy Gotham sky, before landing on one of their favorite spots, the rooftop of a Wayne Enterprise building. He set Damian down gently, sitting next to him, their legs swinging over the edge. 

“Well, we did that.” He bumped his shoulder, entwining his fingers with Damian’s. ”You did that.”

Damian laughed. “We did, didn’t we?”

They fell back into silence, watching the bright city lights shine below them. Damian leaned against him, letting out a breath of air. He lifted their joined hands and pressed a kiss to Jon’s, his taller boyfriend parting their hands to tug him closer, and then returned the gesture by kissing his temple.

There would be a media storm to deal with; siblings, parents, friends. But that was something for tomorrow.

Tonight, there were just the two of them, above the city and the lights, away from the cameras, where they could just be. 

[suhnandmoon]

dance with me, baby!

chapter eleven: freedom. at what cost

pairing: lee heeseung x fem!reader

written part below!

Niki can feel his heartbeat pounding out of his chest. Each step he takes toward the quad and every stare that's sent his way for his unusual attire has his stomach churning.

He glances down at his watch to check the time.

One minute remaining.

If this shit doesn’t get him kicked out of the club, lord knows what will.

In the distance, he sees Sunoo chatting with the club president. His tall white hat, cheap costume beard, and wooden staff cause him to stick out like a sore thumb— though he can guarantee he’s not any more subtle than Sunoo.

The wizard in the distance grows closer as Niki’s pace hastens to their meeting spot. The only thing separating them now is the crowd of around thirty club members gathering, awaiting the meeting’s instruction.

“Oh great wizard,” Niki’s voice calls out from the back of the crowd, “I have heard about your power from my own students– but I, Satoru Gojo, the strongest sorcerer, hereby challenge thee to a duel!” 

As Niki speaks those words, he actively feels the shame kicking in. He reminds himself that getting out of the club is worth any ridicule he’s about to receive.

The previously confused murmurs of the crowd morph into excited chants as they watch in anticipation to the unexpected challenge.

Sunoo lets out a dramatic laugh before responding, “I’d like to see you try, little one.”

He briefly wonders how Sunoo has been doing this for the past month without an ounce of shame, but there's something about the adrenaline from the prying eyes of the crowd and the cheering voices that brings Niki back in. This is his performance now.

As rehearsed, Sunoo leaps at Niki to strike him with his staff. It’s skillfully blocked by Niki before he grabs onto the staff himself and tosses it away from his opponent. They tussle as choreographed with the audience reacting loudly.

This continues on for a few minutes until they reach the table. Sunoo crashes backwards into the table before calling out a pained, “Ah, shit!”

The two boys’ acting shifts from a less theatrical approach to something more serious. This is where they have to convince everyone that they mean business now.

Niki feigns surprise, “Hey, are you alright?” He approaches the boy on the collapsed table and reaches out a hand to assist him up, “Listen, man– I didn’t mean to-”

Sunoo promptly stands up and punches him in the shoulder and Niki is sure to react loudly to it. Sunoo places both hands on his shoulders and shoves him back, “The fuck was that for?” The boy says and turns on his heels, away from Nishimura.

The audience is silent- they’re all watching, fucking bewildered and taken aback by what the hell was happening.

Niki stops Sunoo from exiting the scene by tapping on the wizard’s shoulder, getting him to turn around. Once he got his attention, Niki promptly swings his fist upward into Sunoo’s jaw.

Sunoo is quick enough to move a split second faster than Niki’s fist to avoid the contact, yet still having it look as if he had been hit. 

They both pause for a beat, taking in the silence of the crowd.

Both of Sunoo’s hands are cupping his own face, like the strike had genuinely stung. He lets out a pained cry while the audience all watches in shock. Some of the recording phones drop in disbelief while others continue rolling incase anything happens next.

“You’re fucking crazy,” He rips off the fake beard he’d been forced to wear this past month and throws it at Niki, “I’m done with this shit.”

Sunoo storms off the quad, pushing past some of the crowd.

Niki looks around at all the cameras pointed at him, flabbergasted club members, and the assortment of students that had gathered in passing. He tries to hide the huge smile forming on his face as the club president walks up to him.

“Nishimura Riki.” He says in his prissy ass tone that Niki has always hated. It’s shrill in his ears.

“Your blatant disrespect and disruption for today’s meeting and violent action’s to our hired guest face me with no other option than to excommunicate you from Hybe University’s Sword Fighting Club. Don’t ever try to contact us again.” His puffed out chest and self assured attitude makes Niki want to punch his jaw for real this time, but he pushes that urge down and gasps.

“What!” He yells in a weak attempt to show incredulity. He doesn't even have it in him to pretend to be upset. Hell, he's already walking away from the club members as he speaks.

“I’m sorry about this. I guess I’m not cut out for these activities. It was nice knowing you guys!”

As Niki turns his back, he finally allows himself to let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

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notes: this might've been the stupidest thing you've ever had to read. thank you for reading... i feel like im subjecting you to some sort of torture

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