#like so many thoughts about that. aside from the domesticity!!!

[dragonknightofsummerset]

So many of the conversations with Blade during the room sharing scene are so good but I recently got to bring up his hair & I love that he says he won't change it since MC doesn't find his appearance intimidating

[bunnys-kisses]

the jailbird

prisoner!simon 'ghost' riley

a full fic based on this post

cw: prison!au, civilian!reader, pen-pals, smut,romance/romantic!simon, domestic, missonary, wife kink, size kink, nudity, tattoo kink, body worship, cuddling

bunny says: like the fic? leave a comment! really like the fic? suggest your own! reblogs are always welcomed!

it started out as a flyer at the bus stop near your house. it was for a service that connected prisoners at a nearby prison with civilians as pen-pals. you had seen the flyer often over the course of work as you went to work.

you honestly felt bad, those people must be isolated. the organization prided itself on giving prisoners a bit of their humanity back by not cutting them off from those on the outside. so on a rainy friday you took a photo of the flyer and filled out the form on the organization's website.

that was how you met simon riley, or as he was called on the inside 'ghost'. what caught your attention wasn't his face scar that ran from under his nose down to the left side of his chin, but rather his brown eyes. how intense they stared into the camera. it was almost intimidating.

but you kept the photo on your desk as you typed out your first letter to send to him. you heard of places who did it through email, but screen time for those could often be limited and to send a physical letter would ensure that it would be sent to them.

the letter started out simple, you asked how he was and if it was okay to ask what he was in prison for. you asked him other questions, like if his health was doing well, what did he do most days while on the inside. you ended the letter with a little information about yourself.

you thought it would be nice to take a few photos and print them out on photo paper to be included with your letter. just so he had a better idea of who he was talking about. once you tweaked the letter with a bit of editing, you printed it out and thanks to the Royal Mail, your letter was sent to him.

you didn't actually expect for him to respond. nor did you expect for the letter to be do detailed. it was almost three pages double sided in neat hand writing. your eyes went wide when you saw the thickness of the envelope with the stamp of approval from the prison for it to be sent to you.

simon sent you a bracelet made of string that had been braided together. he said you were the first person from the outside to reach out since he got locked up. that broke your heart. it only broke further the more you read.

he was a military man who was tossed aside once the ptsd got too intense. he had been between jobs, and it felt like everything was just too much for him. he got wrapped up in large scale theft, while it paid good, you could only rob so many banks before it all caught up. he had been in for three years now, he was thankful it wasn't a life sentence. not much was stolen, and there was minimal violence. he said that his stature alone intimidated enough people that he didn't need to be violent.

you re-read his letters and it wouldn't be until almost six months of speaking that you finally wore the bracelet. when he said, "i want to see you in it, since i can't buy you a ring." you sent a photo of you wearing it and since then you hadn't taken it off.

the letters were nice, you sent them at least twice a week. even though you two had never met face to face, and the only photos you had of him were mugshots, he knew all the gossip in your work place. he knew the names of all your friends, your favourite saturday night treat and how you took your coffee.

he told you he'd be happy to make you coffee every morning before you went to work. that comment made your cheeks burn.

he often called you his 'wife' to the other prisoners. he had your photos on the wall near his bunk. he even kept the pictures where you looked terrible after you tried to cut your bangs one night. he knew the exact location of where your favourite take out was. he said that he was writing down ideas of where to take you once he got out. "i gotta make the missus feel special."

he even made you a birthday card. his cellmate 'soap' even signed it. you knew all about the explosives expert mactavish. when you looked into his case on the news, your eyes went a little wide. this guy was.. something.

simon did admit that 'soap' had a bit of a crush on you. but he said that 'johnny' was harmless and probably just liked the photo of a woman in the cell.

"he hurt ya, there will be no cell that could keep me from killin' him. no god either."

simon remembered everything.

the way he spoke about you and to you in his letters were nothing but soft. while he had to put on a tough guy exterior, his letters were filled with gentle words. like when he wrote out that he loved you in big text on a spare piece of paper so you could tape it on your mirror to look at every morning.

"i want to be what you get ready to."

"i want to be with you when you wake up."

"i want to come home to you every night. please make me an honest man."

you knew he was a trained killer. he was in special forces before his brief stint as a criminal. he was trained to kill, but in the margins of your letters, his love shined through. despite it all, he was capable of love.

and he wanted to pour all that love into you, his (future) wife.

you two would go on to write letters every week, for almost two years. when you got the letter from him asking if he could put you down as a permanent address when he got out, you cried. of course!

it was a cold spring morning, the sky was misty as you stood outside the gates of the prison. your heart raced, you even arrived early in the hopes he'd be released sooner.

and then you saw him.

those eyes. hard and stern, until he caught sight of you. his shoulder visibly dropped and his pace quickened as he made his way towards you. before you could step forward to meet him, he had you in his arms. his strong arms, littered with tattoos, wrapped around you as he held you close to his strong chest.

you held onto him as the air left your chest from the force he held you. you clutched onto his shoulders and choked out a sob. you squeaked, "holy shit."

he pulled away from you, but still kept you in his arms. you swore you saw minimal mistiness in his eyes. he reached to cup your face. he said quietly, "soft... like i imagined."

you beamed up at him, "of course, si."

"your voice is so nice." he groaned as he then pulled you close once more and buried his nose in your hair. he inhaled the scent of your shampoo and relaxed, "i'm home."

you thought transitioning from being the only person in the flat, to having this hulking, strong man in your home as well, was going to be a bit hard. but that didn't matter when simon got you through the door. his hands were on you, he promised on the universe that he'd romance you tomorrow.

but tonight was just going to be the two of you.

you managed to get his hands off you in order to get your shoes off before you led him to your bedroom. he was close behind you, he had a hand on one of your hips. he wanted to be as close to you as he could, you two had spent enough time apart.

you couldn't even close the bedroom door before he was pulling at the waistband on your pants. his calloused, strong hands felt delicate on you. it was like he was going to break you and he had to be as delicate as possible.

"si."

"i know, darling." he said quietly as he started to undress you. with your help the both of you were soon nude in the afternoon light in your bedroom. you tried to cover your chest with your arms but he pulled your arms away and looked at you.

your eyes met and you got up on your tip-toes to kiss him gently on the lips. soon he picked you up like you weighed less than a bag of potatoes.

he placed you on the bed gently when you half expected him to toss you like a shot-put. he admired your body down on your soft covers and soon got onto the bed too.

you reached for him as he pulled you into a tight kiss. his lips were chapped and you could tease the fresh skin underneath. your nails raked at his strong back, that you knew was covered in tattoos.

you wrapped your legs around him and held him. from a moment he dropped to his side and you two held each other. you tucked his head under your chin as you laid together naked.

it wasn't even meant to be sexually stimulating, you both just wanted to feel one another. to hear your lover's heartbeat meant more to you than anything in that moment.

you kissed the top of his head, you felt his blond hair against your face as you soaked in his warmth. you could almost cry from how nice it felt to be so close to him.

after everything, you had your man.

he said in his low tone, "you feel so soft. after everything, i have you. you made every day in the can worth it." he sighed, "thank you." he kissed at your bare chest.

you replied, "i loved your letters, i have them still." you chuckled, "i didn't want to throw any of them away. it made me feel closer."

"well. i'm not goin' anywhere." he looked up at you and smiled, "you're home and i'm finally here." he pulled away and got him between your legs. he rested on his knees and carefully moved you to his liking. he sat there between your legs and waited for your command.

you looked at him and nodded, "yeah, si. you can go." then tightened your legs around your lover. you held your breath as he slowly pushed his cock into you. you didn't realize how big it was until he was fully inside of you.

"are you alright, love?"

"golden."

the two of you moved together. it took a little bit to get used to the size, but the pressure and speed of his movements made heat spread through your body. like two pieces of the same puzzle, you fit together perfect soon after. it was like you two were always meant to be.

you felt so loved by him, it was so sweet. this was your first time with him and you only had a few sexual experiences with others prior to him. but the entire time you knew each other you didn't sleep with others, you wanted to wait for your man.

"that's my good wife." he groaned as he held onto your hips, "i know, you wanted this for a long time. i bet you thought about me when i was locked up."

you blushed and replied, "i did, si. i thought about you all the time, i even had your picture in my office. i wanted this, i wanted to be with you!" you whined a little as his cock dragged against a sensitive spot.

he chuckled softly, "yeah. i thought about my missus when i was locked up. i used to jerk off to your letters, your photos. messed one of 'em up by gettin' my spunk all over it." he licked his lips, "but now i can see it every day in person."

you smiled when he rested his body against you and continued to thrust up into you. you felt the curl of pleasure of your gut get together which each of his heavy thrusts.

the kisses you shared were intimate and hot. the air of your bedroom was warmed as you made love on the bed you would share together. your soft noises together filled the air.

you clenched onto him, you dug your nails into his shoulders. they were so strong and broad that they were much bigger than your hands.

he kissed you one last time as he quickened his pace. the bed moved against your movements as you both climaxed at the same time. it was like a shock to the system, the heightened euphoria before your head felt full of cotton.

you let out a soft groan as your grip on his loosened and you relaxed into the bed. you felt yourself partially get crushed by your lover but he gave a few more earnest thrusts as he made sure that his cum shot to the back of your womb.

he pulled out and dropped beside you. he tucked some hair behind your ear and wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of his hand. your breathing was heavy, but you were both so happy. to share your first time together felt so special.

you nestled yourself into his arms and held his hand. you exhaled contently then said, "my husband."

he kissed the top of your head, he felt complete, "my missus."

part two

[prettyfastcars]

As sweet as blood-red jam | Mob!Lando

Summary: Lando could be many things given the nature of his job. Mean, commandeering, a control freak. But when he came home to you and the kids, he was the sweetest man you’d ever met. Your marriage to him was arranged of course, because that’s how things worked in the world you were both from. But love eventually grew between the two of you, and it did not stop growing. 

Themes: dad!Lando, fluff, smut, arranged marriage, domestic!mob!Lando, mild mommy/daddy kink (nicknames only), praise kink, housewife!reader, breeding kink

“They’re sleeping.” 

He announced cheerfully, shutting the door behind him as he walked into your library where you had been reading in silence for the past half an hour. 

You were a stay-at-home mom so the twins, your son and daughter, were under your care all day. And so Lando insisted that you get the evening off the moment he got home. He read to them and tucked them in for the night each night. It was part of his routine and he loved it. 

You placed your wine glass down and picked up the drink you made for him, handing it to him as he came over to sit down next to you on the large sofa. 

His eyes lit up at the sight of the well-deserved drink. “Oh you’re perfect, baby.” He kissed your forehead before getting comfortable next to you, sighing as he leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a brief moment. 

“They’ve been running around all day, they went to see the horses,” You said, thinking about how energetic your kids had been during the day, “I thought they would pass out after dinner but they wanted to wait for daddy.” 

Your husband smiled, looking a little tired as he took a sip of his drink. You caressed his cheek with a gentle hand as he turned to give you a soft look with those gorgeous eyes of his. 

He looked more relaxed and comfortable like this, wearing nothing but dark sweatpants. As opposed to the authoritative figure he is during the day in his expensive, dark suits. Him in casual clothing like this made you realise that he was in fact just a young man, barely 25, who shouldered a lot of weight alone. 

Responsibilities, expectations, risks, reputation, legacy, and now his own family. You’d come a long way, the two of you. Only a couple years ago you were just strangers being introduced at a gala. And now you were young parents. 

You still remember the night you met him for the first time. How gently he held your hand and danced with you. How your engagement was announced only a few months after and the wedding happened quicker than you thought. 

You always thought that you would forever be strangers living under the same roof. Especially given his reputation of being a workaholic which made him such an influential figure in his line of work. 

But Lando proved you wrong. He actually took the time to get to know you early on in your marriage, he cared, he listened. He was good to you. Then a year later, you had the twins and Lando had been perfect. Perfect partner, perfect dad. 

“What are you thinking about, mama?” He asked softly, his hand leisurely caressing your exposed thigh. That golden chain on his neck shining in the dimmed lights of the library. No shirt so you shamelessly ogled his defined abs and muscles. He let you, with a smirk on his handsome face. 

You put the book aside and leaned a little closer to him, cupping his rough chin in your hand. He’d been growing facial hair lately and you liked it. “You work too hard,” You said softly. 

He smiled, leaning into the warmth of your hand as he said, “Just wanna give you and the kids everything you want and need. You deserve it.” 

He had given you everything. Houses, cars, chauffeurs, chefs, private planes, private trainers, cards with no spending limits, vacations. You and the kids were well taken care of. 

You sighed, sliding over and ending up perfectly on his lap. Lando finished his drink, placed the glass aside and grabbed you by the waist to pull you closer. “But we have everything we could ever want or need.” You suggested, “Take a day off. Or two. I’m taking the kids shopping tomorrow, come spend the day with us.” 

Lando gave you a faint smile, “Can’t right now, baby. Some important shipments are about to come in. I can’t afford a day off until it gets here.” 

You rolled your eyes, making him chuckle and pull you closer. “But I barely see you.” You murmured. “The last time we had a date night was like, weeks ago.” 

Your face got really hot just thinking about it. Not just the date, but what happened after in the car on the way home… 

Lando smirked, surely also thinking about the same thing, grabbing you by the hips and gently moving you on his lap, rubbing you against his growing erection. You hissed in pleasure as he did. The soft, silky night dress you were wearing bunched up around your upper thighs, allowing you to feel everything. The shape of him, the warmth. 

“If you wanted a lovesick romeo who writes you love notes every morning then you shouldn’t have agreed to marry a man like me.” He taunted, teasing you and pinching your thigh. 

You reached out and grabbed his gold chain, tugging on it playfully, knowing how much he liked it when you did. “Unfortunately I like my men a little more corrupted,” You whispered, “Bonus points if they work all the time and don’t have time for me.” You sassed. 

Lando chuckled, leaning in to kiss along your jaw. “Aww, what is it?” He cooed, “You miss daddy? Hmm? Does mommy need some extra love from daddy tonight?” 

You nodded. 

“Come here, baby,” He pressed his mouth to yours as his hands caressed your inner thighs. He kissed you like he was starving, while your hands reached down in between your bodies and eagerly lowered his sweatpants to free his cock. 

You whimpered into the kiss, against his lips as you wrapped your hand around him, stroking his hard cock, making him groan into the kiss before he pulled away and said, “Daddy missed you too.” He murmured, looking down to watch how your hand touched him just how he liked it. “Fuck,” He sighed, “That feels good, baby…” 

His praise gave you enough confidence to stroke him harder, making him groan and moan. You loved the sounds he made. And you wanted to keep hearing those moans so you carefully lifted your lower body off his, pulled your underwear to the side and slowly lowered yourself down on his cock, earning louder moans out of his sinful mouth as you sank down on him. 

You were wet enough for his cock to slide in, but your body still resisted just a little bit, enough for him to have to thrust up the tiniest bit to fully fill you up. You cried out as he did. 

His soft lips parted just a little, and you couldn’t resist leaning in and sliding your tongue into his mouth. You whimpered against his lips, stroking the top of his mouth as you lifted up and sank back down on his cock, making him growl into the messy kiss. 

“That’s it, baby… fuck yourself on daddy’s cock…” Lando’s hands rubbed up and down your thighs again as he gently thrust his hips up each time, setting a pace that had you both moaning and wanting more of each other. 

Your fingers slid into his hair, scratching his scalp and down his neck as the tip of his cock reached sensitive places inside you. 

Lando chuckled when he felt you clench around him. “We’re not using protection again, mama…” He spoke against your open mouth, breathless as you were, “You’re gonna give me another kid, huh?” He sounded cocky as he said it, like it filled him with pride. “Gonna let me fill you up again till you walk around all nice and swollen with my baby in you, hmm?” 

You whined, feeling him stretch you out each time you moved up and down his cock. “Lando… please,” You gasped as his hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily. 

“Answer me,” He demanded, “You’re gonna carry another one for me?” His voice sent chills down your back. 

“Yes,” You whimpered, moving faster, impaling yourself down on his cock and whimpering shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. Your lips brushed against his each time you moved up and down his cock, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his ridiculously pretty eyes. You couldn’t help but speak the thoughts of your lust-drunk mind, “I want you to fill me up again,” You mumbled, feeling yourself getting high up there gradually. 

Lando laughed, also lust-drunk, “I can’t wait…” He said, “Can’t wait to come home and find you dripping wet for me.” His voice gave away that he was thinking back to how needy you were for him all throughout your previous pregnancy. 

You whimpered, thinking about it as well. Some evenings he’d come home and you dragged him to the bedroom immediately. Some days you even called him and asked him if he could come home for an hour or two. Lando happily agreed each time of course. 

“Remember how sensitive you’d get? How needy?” He teased, holding you close. “How you almost cried each time I made you come?” He smirked, male pride all over his face. “Some of the best months of my life those were.” 

You whined, “Please…” You stared into his pretty eyes. 

“Come for me.” He growled in that cold, menacing, erotic voice. “Come for daddy…” 

And you did. Whimpering, squirming and whining. You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and Lando kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him.

Lando came right after you, moaning and spilling inside of you, filling you up as you trembled and squirmed on his lap. You leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath while he held you against him, kissing the side of your face softly. 

“You okay, baby?” He asked after a few minutes of you two just cuddling there on the sofa. 

You nodded, “Mhmm, don’t wanna get up.” You murmured, sighing in bliss as you snuggled into his warm chest. 

He chuckled, “Okay.” He kissed the stop of your head. “I love you,” He whispered.

[gyupinkys]

LIKE CRAZY

PARK SEONGHWA X READER

WC: 7.4K

WARNINGS: MURDER, YANDERE, VIOLENCE, DOMESTIC ABUSE, GORE, KIDNAPPING, DRUGGING, SMUT, power imbalance, questionable morals, unprotected sex, rough sex, heavy talks of breeding, creampie, oral, guided masturbation, possessiveness, very inaccurate medical terms idk what i'm talking about, lots of dirty talk, seonghwa is actually crazy...

Synopsis: Park Seonghwa, 25, charged with 10 Counts of second degree murder, acquitted of all charges by reason of insanity. You find his story hard to believe, seeing through his lies. As a new psychiatrist you're not sure you're ready for the anomaly you're tasked to treat

A/N: Thank you guys so much for all the support!!! I love this fic <3

You love your job, you really do but moments like this make you question why you’re here. As you stand in the bathroom of your office cleaning the mashed potatoes your patient threw at you in a manic rage off your face, you question why you do this. As a psychiatrist you pride yourself in your patience, but you can't help but stomp your foot in a mini tantrum. You spent so long doing your makeup this morning and it’s all going to waste. You throw the final wipe in the trash and stare at your reflection. The bags under your eyes are much more prominent than a few days ago. You’ve been up all night trying to prepare yourself for your new patient coming today. Park Seonghwa, 25, acquitted of all charges by reason of insanity. He claims a “demon” took over his body, subsequently leading him to murdering 15 people across a 1 month killing spree. You don’t buy it. Something about this guy is off and the state made it your job to find out why. Your phone ringing snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Doctor L/N, the patient has arrived, we are transporting him to his room.”

“I’ll be right there.” 

You take a deep breath and walk across the hospital to his room. You expect to hear shuffling and yelling but the room is eerily quiet. The guards in front of the door step aside and let you into the room, keeping a close eye on Seonghwa. 

“Hello Mr.Park, I’m Dr. Y/N L/N, and I will be treating you for your stay here.” you smile at him., surprised by his appearance. 

“Hello, Y/N.” he says, staring up at you from his place on his bed.

His curly black hair and plump lips suit him so well. 

“I hope you adjust well, we’ve been anticipating your arrival. Breakfast begins at 8, so you are expected to be up and ready before then. Lunch is at 2 and dinner is at 7. Your therapy time with me is at 4 Mondays, Wednesday’s, and Fridays. Sounds good?”

“Sounds great” he says with a smile, showcasing his pearly white teeth. 

“I look forward to working with you. My job is to take care of you and I promise to do that.” you smile.

You take a second to look at him, watching the dead look in his eyes. His smile says one thing but his eyes say another. With one last smile you leave the room, almost certain he’ll be causing problems before the night is over. 

_________________________

You come in the next morning and check in with the nurses. Surprisingly there were no issues from Seonghwa, he even took his medication with no complaints. Maybe you had the wrong idea about him. You meet with several of your other patients, thankfully avoiding potatoes in your face again. It's 3pm when you take a break, looking outside your office window. You see him sitting at the edge of the courtyard, eyes fixed up at the sky. Four guards surround him out of precaution, but he seems completely unphased, eyes staring at the clear blue sky.  For someone capable of such evil things he’s beautiful. His curly hair has grown quite long during his time in prison awaiting his trial. His eyes are wide and bright holding so many secrets.  As if he can feel your eyes on him he looks up, directly into your office window somehow making eye contact with you. Your eyes widen and you quickly look away, pretending you weren't staring at him. It’s not uncommon for new patients to stick to themselves, often untrusting of the new environment. You can only hope Seonghwa will begin to trust you so you can treat him, if not you’re not sure what his future might hold.   

_________________________

He is brought to your office at 4 on the dot, accompanied by the four guards assigned to him. He looks rather scared, the new environment keeping him on his toes. You welcome  him with a wide smile that he doesn't return, instead staring straight at your shoes. 

“Hello, Seonghwa.” 

“Hi.” he responds quietly, reminding you of a scared child. You find it in your heart to feel sorry for him. 

“How are you adjusting?”

He shrugs in response, eyes still on the floor. 

“Can you look at me?”

He shakes his head no. 

“Ok, that's fine. I know it’s scary here, I’d also hate to be constantly monitored, but we just want to make sure you’re safe.”

He keeps quiet so you continue. 

“Tell me, do you like the food here?” 

No response. 

“I’ve only tried some of the patient food, well besides when it gets thrown at me. Last week Sandy with the weird haircut threw her potatoes right in my face, I looked like Ms.Doubtfire in that one scene.” you say with a laugh, gauging his reaction. He smirks but remains silent, you decide it might be best if you keep talking in hopes of making him comfortable. 

“I’ve only been working here for about 5 months. I can’t say I’m settled completely. Some patients don’t seem to like me very much, hence the mashed potatoes. But I don’t let that discourage me, I mean if I was in their shoes I wouldn’t want some random lady talking my ear off. Well, I guess that’s what I’m doing now, I’ll shut up.”

He looks up at you with a wide smile, showcasing his perfect teeth. “Don’t stop," he says gently.

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into here, I can talk for hours.” you say with a light laugh. 

His eyes widen a bit, he looks at you as if he’s psychoanalyzing you, the roles seemingly reversed. You squirm under his intense stare, deciding to just start talking. 

“How about this? If I tell you one thing about me, you tell me one thing about you?”

“Deal.” he says much quicker than you anticipate making you laugh. You hear his breath hitch, concerned you did something wrong. 

“Are you ok?” 

“I’m fine. Start talking.” 

“Ok, Ok. Hmmmm, Oh how about this, I haven’t finished paying off my student debt.”

“I could pay it off,” he says seriously. 

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure that violates many rules.”

“I’m not one to worry about rules.” he says with a smile, making your own fall. He quickly reacts, trying to soothe the situation. “That was a joke, I’m joking.” 

“Noted.” you say hesitantly. “Your turn.” 

“I miss my cat.” he says, sadly.

“You have a cat?” you ask in surprise. “I love cats, I have two.”

“Can I see?” he asks, scooching to the front of his seat, making the guards jump hold him back. 

“You guys can relax.” you say and they let go of him.

You grab your phone from your desk, missing the way his eyes drop to your ass. 

“They're named Brad and Chad. And yes I know those are weird names for cats.” you show him the pictures of your cats, seeing his body visibly relax. 

“What’s your cat's name?”  

“Matz.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Girl. I think my friend Hongjoong has her but I’m not sure.” 

“If you give me his last name I can try to find out for you.” you say with a smile.

He leans forward again in excitement. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, I know It’ll give you peace of mind.”

“Kim, his last name is Kim.”

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

“Kim Hongjoong has Matz and says you raised a very disrespectful cat.” you say and slide into the chair across from him in the cafeteria. 

He looks a bit shocked at your presence but he gives you a wide smile when he registers what you said. 

“She was born like that, I had no part in her sassiness.” he laughs. 

“Did he say anything else?”

“He said,  “Don't forget to look at the sky.” and stopped responding after that so do with it as you will.”

“I really appreciate it.” he says and grabs your hand, making the security guards restrain him. 

“It’s ok, let him go.” you sigh, understanding the guard’s worry, but also feeling sympathetic for Seonghwa. 

“I’ll see you around, Seonghwa.”

“Call me Hwa.” he smiles. 

_________________________

Seonghwa has made great progress, now only being followed around by two guards as opposed to four. He’s been much more responsive with you and willing to let you into his mind, but he refuses to talk about the murders. Whenever you attempt to touch on the subject he locks up and asks to leave. You think he needs more time to accept and confront his past. You know prying too much will only erase his progress. You’ve learned so much about him and he’s learned so much about you. He’s so attentive to every word you speak, constantly bringing up small details you forgot you said. You’d be lying if you said it wasn't sweet. Today you decided to try group therapy with him, maybe if he sees someone else sharing he’d be inclined to share as well. You’re also hoping he’s able to make a friend here, since he expressed to you how lonely he’s been feeling. You can see the shock on his face when he walks into your office and see’s San sitting on the couch. He freezes in the threshold of your office, his face morphing into something you’ve never seen before. 

“Who is this?” he asks with venom.

“Hwa, this is San, he’ll be joining us today.”

“Why?”

“I think it’ll be a good change of pace. Now come on in and sit down.”

He slowly walks in, eyes never leaving San. 

“So, I was thinking of doing a joint session today. I think you two can be great friends and what better place to facilitate this friendship than here?”

“I’d rather be your friend, or more than friends if you’re interested.” San says with a smirk.

“San, don’t start.”

“If you show me your tits I’ll stop.”

“I will write you up.” you deadpan. 

He holds his hands up in defeat as you look over to Seonghwa. He’s sitting in his chair with a hard face and tense body. You want him to feel comfortable, understanding why he’s nervous. 

“Hwa, San also loves cats. Why don’t you tell him about Matz?”

“I have a cat named Matz” he whispers, eyes never leaving you.

“I used to have a cat but it died. I was thinking of getting a new one.” San says with a wide smile.

“What kind of cat is your favorite?” Seonghwa asks, seemingly interested. 

“I like cats that are nice and wet, even better if they're tight.” he says with a wide smile, showing off his dimples. “Can I take a look at your cat, Doctor?” 

Before you can respond San’s on the floor, face being beaten in by Seonghwa. 

“HOW ABOUT YOU TREAT HER WITH SOME FUCKING RESPECT.” he yells as his fist fly into San’s jaw. As the guards peel him off San and sedate him he’s staring straight at you, tears in his eyes. 

“I can’t sit here and let him talk to you like that.” he slurs as the sedative takes over his body. 

“Thank you, Hwa.” is the last thing he hears before everything fades to black.

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

“You did a real number on San.” you say with an awkward laugh at your next session,  trying to make him comfortable. He’s back with four guards after he broke San’s jaw two weeks ago.  He was placed in a higher security ward inorder to avoid more altercations.

“He deserved it.” he whispers with an eye roll.

“Maybe, but we don’t have to solve our problems with violence.”

“I do.”

“Well, If I upset you would you beat the shit out of me?” you ask, trying to prove your point but hoping he will say no.

He leans forward and looks directly into your eyes. “Y/N I will never hurt you. I swear on my life.” 

“That's good to hear” you say with a laugh. 

“Ok, let's begin. I want you to write three things you like here and three things you dislike. I want you to start seeing the good in the bad.”

“Not much to love in this shit hole.” he grumbles.

“Hey, At least the chicken tenders they serve on wednesdays are good.” you joke.

You hand him a piece of paper and a pen, your fingers brushing making you clear your throat. 

“Ok, go ahead.”

“You do it too.” he says with a smirk.

“How about I just write things I do like? ”

“Deal”

You write three things you like:

Chicken tenders 

The sunlight

Seonghwa

“Ok, you share first.” 

He clears his throat. 

“I like my doctor, I like the girl I meet on Monday’s, Wednesday, and Fridays, and I like Y/N.”

Your eyes widen and you can’t help but smile, feeling your cheeks tingle. “Well that's definitely something.” you say with a laugh watching his eyes light up. 

You read out your list and watch his smile widen when he hears his name. 

“Don’t let it go to your head.” you say with an eye roll.

“Oh baby, it already did.”

Your heart stops at the pet name, willing yourself to remain professional. He’s a goddamn serial killer you internally yell. 

“Ok, now read the things you don’t like.”

“I don’t like Tuesdays and Thursdays, I don’t like San, and I don’t like your boyfriend.”

You choke on the sip of water you were taking. 

“How do you know I have a boyfriend?”

“Your reaction just told me.” he says and you can see him becoming upset. 

“I don’t have a boyfriend, and frankly it’s none of your business.” you say, slightly annoyed. 

He gives you a look you’re never seen before. You hate to think it but he genuinely looks insane. You’re suddenly thankful for the guards in the room. 

“I think that’s enough for today.” you say. the guards picking him up and dragging him out of the room, his eyes never leaving yours.

You weren’t lying, you don’t have a boyfriend. Well, that’s because he doesn’t want you. All  Chris wants from you is sex, claiming he’s “too young for a relationship”

You wish you were strong enough to stick up for yourself but that’s exactly how he likes you, weak. 

As you sit at your desk you're puzzled by Seonghwa’s reaction. Sure, you've had patients crush on you in the past but they've never reacted like that when they found out about your partner. He looked almost… murderous? You write this in his file, concerned for both your safety and his. Maybe someone else should get assigned to him? No, that’ll only aggravate him more. You sigh, at a loss about this situation. 

_________________________

When you enter your office you see an envelope on the floor, presumably slid under your door. You pick it up and see it’s addressed to you.

You open it and pull out a letter.

“My dear Y/N, 

I don’t know what I was thinking yesterday. I guess I got jealous, knowing I can’t have you in the ways he has you. I can tell you guys aren’t in love. You deserve to be loved, in every sense of the word. I wish we met in different circumstances, I’d do anything to have you, to hold you, to love you. I’m sorry if I scared you. You’ve been nothing but perfect for me and I’ve done nothing but give you headaches. I’ll be better for you, I promise.

-Hwa”

Your heart softens. This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for you. You choose to ignore the parts where he confesses his love for you. That just complicates things. You decide to pay him a visit in his room. 

You walk to the other side of the hospital, rehearsing what you're going to say to him. You stop in your tracks outside his door, hearing moans and groans coming from the other side. Is he ok?  You press your ear to his door, only hearing more moans and whimpers. As you’re about to open it you hear him moan out your name. Oh. It doesn't take a genius to guess what he’s doing. It would be a lie if you said you weren't imagining his face right now. He’s already so pretty, he must look even better right before he comes. You bite the bullet and knock on his door.

“Hwa, can I come in?”

You hear shuffling and a meek “Come in.”

You open the door and pause. You expected him to stop but he’s sitting up on his bed with his back against the wall, cock in his hand. Your eyes stray from his face to his dick, hard and long. 

“Am I interrupting something?”

“No.”

“I’ll come back later.” 

“No.” he yells, making you stop in your tracks.

“Turn around.”

As if you were in a trance you turn around, eyes trained on his large hands wrapped around himself. 

“Can you come help me? It hurts so bad.” he whispers. “You’re my doctor aren’t you?” he smirks.

“No, this is wrong.”

“Then why are you still here? Why are your eyes on my cock rather than my face?”

“I-”

“Y/N, all I can think of when I close my eyes is you.” he says as he strokes his cock, looking into your eyes. “Your pretty eyes, your lips, your perfect fucking smile. You make it so hard to focus. I gotta come back here after every session to stroke my cock to you, I can’t help myself.”

You’re frozen in place, unsure if you’re even breathing. “Come wrap your hand around my cock, baby. Please?”

Your legs move before you can think this through, hesitantly wrapping your hand around him. He’s so big in your hands, you can only imagine how perfect he’d feel inside you. 

“I shouldn't be doing this.” you whisper to him. 

He wraps his hand around yours and guides you to begin stroking him, moaning at the sensation. “You aren’t doing anything wrong, just helping your patient.”

His breathing picks up as precum leaks from his tip onto your hand. “Baby, can I tell y-you something?”

“Yea.”

“I really wish it was your pretty little pussy wrapped around me right now.” he groans. “I’d treat you better than you could imagine, I’d have you addicted to this dick.”

“Hwa” 

“Shh, keep going. You're making me feel so good, beautiful.” he breathes out, throbbing in your hand.

“Do you do this to your other patients? Or am I special.”

“You’re special, Hwa. You know that.”

“Do you do this for that ungrateful bastard you call a boyfriend?”

You freeze, but he continues. 

“I know you don’t. If he treated you how you deserved you wouldn’t be here with me. I’d make you a queen Y/N, you don’t even have to love me back.”

You look at him in the eye, he looks fucking insane but you can’t find it in you to care. You crash your lips into his, feeling him suck in a deep breath before returning the same ferocity. The kiss is deep and nasty, nothing but tongue and teeth. You grip him harder and begin pumping him faster, desperate to see his face when you come. 

“I want you to come for me ok? I wanna see how pretty you look when you feel good.”

“Yes, yes, ok. I’m gonna come for you.”

You hear him let out one last whimper before he comes, his seed dripping down your hand. When he’s done you bring your hand up to his mouth, watching him lick his cum off your fingers. You feel yourself clench around nothing, but you know you’d have to handle your little issue at a later time. 

“So good for me, Hwa.” you smile, giving him one last peck before getting up. 

He’s laying on the bed, looking completely blissed out, a wide smile on his face. 

“I got the letter by the way. I guess flattery has gotten you pretty far.”

_________________________

You arrive home later than expected, getting caught up in some paperwork and losing track of time. When you arrive at your apartment you see none other than Chris waiting outside. 

“Where have you been?” he immediately spits, slurring his words, making you roll your eyes. 

“Why are you here?” you sigh, unlocking your door.

“What? I can’t come see you now?” he says, going to hug you, but you push him away, smelling the alcohol on his breath. 

“Thought you’d be more interested in seeing Irene.”

“Y/N, don’t be like that. You and I aren’t together.” he says, getting aggravated.

“Thank God.” you say under your breath, unsure where this confidence came from.

“Come again?”

“Nothing.”

“No. Fucking say it.” he says, getting in your face.

“Chris, just leave.”

“Youre fucking impossible, Y/N. I don’t know what you fucking want from me. You get mad when I fuck other bitches but you talk to me like this? You don’t deserve me.”

You can’t help but laugh, turning to walk into your bathroom, which makes him even more upset. 

“Whats so fucking funny?” he yells, grabbing your wrist a little too tight. 

“Don’t fucking touch me.” you spit, trying to pull your hand away, but unable to due to his tight grip. 

“You’re hurting me.” you cry as he tightens his grip and pulls you towards him. 

“Imagine how much you hurt me when you act like this? You’re a fucking bitch Y/N. Why are you acting like this? Are you fucking someone else is that it?” he’s getting angrier by the second, beginning to scare you.

“GET OFF OF ME.”

“ADMIT IT. YOU'RE WHORING YOURSELF OUT AREN’T YOU? “

You yank your hand from his grip, only to be greeted with a sharp slap across your face.

You look at him with wide eyes, shocked at his actions. He seems equally as shocked as he stares at his hand then you. 

“Sweetheart, I’m-”

“Get out before I call the cops.”

He rushes out, spewing bullshit apologies in his drunken state, but you’re having none of it. As soon as he leaves you begin to cry, the reality of what happened hitting you. You look down at your wrist, seeing his hand imprinted on your skin. You cry more, wondering how you got to this point.

_________________________

You tried your best to cover the small mark on your face, but the bruise on your hand was a no go. You just hoped the sleeves of your lab coat would cover the mark. You see multiple patients today, trying to keep up your usual happy persona but most likely failing. San is the only one who asked if you were ok, saying he “knows ways to make

You feel better.” Maybe Seonghwa needs to beat him up one more time so he can learn his lesson. Speaking og Seonghwa, you are nervous to face him after your encounter yesterday. You violated so many rules, if he were to snitch on you not only would you lose your job, but your license. You take a deep breath as the guards bring him into your office, two instead of four now due to good behavior.

He takes a seat but you’re not sure what to say. He frowns at the unusual silence, immediately asking what's wrong. 

“I’m fine, Hwa. Just having a shitty day.” you say while subconsciously rubbing your wrist, bringing attention to it. He shoots forward in his seat and grabs your arm, pulling back your sleeve and looking at your wrist. The guards immediately grab him, but you signal at them to stand down. 

“Did he do that?” Seonghwa asked, venom dripping from his voice. 

“He was drunk.” 

“That's not an excuse.”

“I know.” you sigh.

“That bastard doesn't deserve you. I hope he fucking dies.” Seonghwa spits. 

“Hwa, don’t say that.”

“I want to leave.”

You nod your head and the guards lead him back to his room. You decide to head home, hoping a night out with your friends will clear your mind.

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

Seonghwa’s tells himself he’s doing this for you. Everything he does is for you. No one can lay a hand on his sweet girl and think they won't experience any consequences. He’ll be damned if this fucker lives another day. He watches Chris dance and kiss other women like nothings wrong, like he didn’t put his hands on you. Seonghwa can feel the rage flowing through his body, this is the feeling he gets right before he kills. He can’t wait to see the light leave Chris’ eyes tonight. He’s eternally grateful for Hongjoong finding this fucker for him, he knows he’ll avenge you tonight. 

He waits for him near his car, watching him fumble with his keys. 

“Excuse me.” 

Chris turns around and sees Seonghwa standing next to the car parked behind his own. 

“Yes?”

“I know this sounds weird, but I’m trying to dump my couch, but I can’t get it out of my apartment by myself. Can you help me?”

“Yea sure.” 

Seonghwa couldn't help but smile, knowing what was about to happen. As soon as the pair enter Hongjoong’s old apartment, Seonghwa wastes no time and stabs Chris in the chest, watching him crumble to the floor. 

“You think you can touch my dear, Y/N and get away with it? No one is going to hurt my girl.” he spits, rage consuming him. 

Chris doesn’t get a chance to respond as Seonghwa plunges the knife into his chest, repeatedly, aiming for his heart. 

“This is how my heart felt when I saw those bruises on her.” he spits, mutilating Chris’s body. 

When his body is nothing more than a pile of flesh and blood, Seonghwa stands, changing out of his soiled clothes and exiting the apartment, leaving Chris’s body to rot. 

He pushes through the crowds of the rowdy club, searching for you. He spots you dancing with your friends, looking carefree and happy, exactly as you should be. He smiles at the sight, falling more in love with you as the seconds pass. He wants to experience everything with you, he wants to marry you, have kids with you, die with you, and he will. He’ll make you his, he’ll fill you up with his seed and watch your body grow. He’ll keep you where no one can find you, make sure you’re his forever. 

He watches you search for one of your other friends from your spot at the bar, hoping you’d make eye contact with him. When your eyes meet his heart stops. He watches your eyes widen, and confusion grow on your face. You rub your eyes to make sure you’re seeing correctly and when you open them again he’s gone. 

He walks back to the asylum elated, happy he served you justice. He passes by the security who knows better to question him and the nurses who keep their heads down and mouths shut. There's nothing money can’t buy, and the hospital staff’s silence is definitely not one of them. He changes back into his patient attire and gets into bed as if nothing happened. 

_________________________

 You’re 100% losing your mind. Either that or Seonghwa was in the same club as you last night which is impossible. You've run through every scenario you could think of and you’ve concluded whatever you feel for him is becoming too strong. You’re considering transferring him to another doctor, the guilt you have from what happened two days ago is sitting on you. That was completely unprofessional and foolish, your risked so much because you’re too fucking horny. Not only that but you took advantage of him, you're in a position of power, you should've said no. You know you wouldn't be able to treat and diagnose him properly. But you also know he’d throw a fit if he gets assigned to a new doctor. This is all too much for you to handle.

Your thoughts are interrupted by someone barging into your office. You look up and see Seonghwa, eyes widening. 

“Hwa? Why are you here?”

“I needed to see you.”

“Where are the guards?”

“Don’t worry about that.” he says and locks your office door, worrying you a bit.

“Seonghwa, you’ll get in trouble if they find out you’re here.”

“They won’t find out if you don’t tell.” he says with a smile, walking to your desk. 

“Why did you need to see me?”

“I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday. It wasn’t my place to react like that, and I know you were probably already stressed, I shouldn’t have added to that.”

“It's ok, don’t worry.”

“No, it’s not Ok. I keep saying I'll treat you right but I haven't. Let me make it up to you.”

You smile at how much he cares when it should be the other way around. 

“And how are you going to make it up?” you say with a light laugh.

“Let me eat you out.”

Your eyes widen. 

“Hwa. What happened was a one time thing. We can’t keep doing this.”

“Why?

“You know why.”

“I won’t tell anyone. No one needs to know, Baby. I love you, why would I jeopardize you?” he says, getting on his knees next to your desk chair.

“What if someone sees?”

“I’ll take care of them. With the way I’m about to have you, no one but me gets to see you.”

Your breath quickens. No way you're actually contemplating this. You watch as he turns your chair towards him and places his hands on your thighs.

“What do you say, Sweet girl?”

You nod hesitantly. He smiles up at you spreading your legs and running his hands up your skirt. He flips it up and looks at your pink panties, sucking in a deep breath. 

“Just like I imagined.”

He puts his legs on your shoulder and pulls your hips to his face, running his nose along your inner thigh. He’s breathing heavily, his grip on you tightening. He licks a long stipe up your slit over your panties, teasing you. Your hands fly to his soft curls, pulling him closer. 

“Please don’t tease”  you whisper.

He begins to kiss your cunt, practically making out with it. He’s so sloppy with it, soaking your already soaked panties more. He pulls off your panties with his teeth, shoving them in his pocket before pulling you flush to his lips. He goes straight for your clit, sucking harshly. He's moaning into your cunt, lapping at your pussy like it's the last he’lll ever eat.

“So good, Baby. You taste so fucking goof. The best I’ve ever had.”

He runs two fingers through you, wetting them before easing them inside. 

“Fucking hell, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

You can only moan in response, trying to control your volume.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“It’s so good, Hwa. Feels so good.”

“Is it better than that fucker Chris?”

“Yes, so much better.” you moan out, not having enough brain power to question how he knows chris. All you can focus on is his soft tongue running through you and his fingers hitting all the spots you need. 

Your back arches as you feel your orgasm coming. “Give it to me baby. I deserve it,I’ve been so good to you.” he speaks into your cunt, his fingers never stopping. 

You look down into his wide eyes and see so much emotion in them. He’s so fucking pretty, just the thought that this is the man eating you out makes you let go. Grabbing his hair harshly and somehow pulling him closer as you soak his face. He keeps sucking and licking your clit, slowing the pace of his fingers. When it gets too much you yank his head back, out of breath. 

“Fuck, Hwa. That definitely made it up to me.” you laugh, blissed out.

“I’m glad.” he laughs, licking his fingers clean before standing up and kissing you.

“I can make you feel even better.” he smiles, testing his luck. 

“Nice try. Can I have my panties back?”

“No can do.” he smiles, kissing you one more time before backing up, helping you put your clothes back in place. 

“I’ll see you four, Love.” he says with a wide smile.

“Actually, I need to cancel our session, something came up.” you say solemnly watching his smile drop. All the guilt from before it you once again. You can’t keep doing this. He’s you patient for fucks sake, you can’t fuck him. This is wrong on so many levels.  

“So when am I going to see you instead?”

“I’ll let you know.” you say with a frown.

“Oh, Ok. Have a nice night, Y/N.”

“You too, Hwa.”

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

Seonghwa can feel something's off. He thought after he ate you out you’d realize you feel the same way about him. But he could tell it had the opposite effect. He tries to sleep but all that's on his mind is you. He looks at the clock on the wall, it's well past 4am, you should definitely be gone. He gets up and opens his door, seeing the guard on night duty fast asleep. He walks to your office and uses the master key he stole from the janitor to unlock the door. He walks over to your desk and scans the papers littering it. He sees a printed out email from your supervisor, listing reports made about you from other patients. Other patients claim you show him favoritism? He knows San was behind this. They claim patient reports you write for him are much more detailed and that's somehow proof of favoritism? You eating lunch with him is somehow inappropriate? He laughs at this, they really have no idea how inappropriate your relationship has gotten. He continues reading, Your supervisor claims he’s showing no improvement and has requested a new doctor for him. He can feel the anger coursing through his veins but he wills himself. He’ll be damned if they try to take you away from him. His months of planning will not go to waste. He’ll live out all his dreams with you, there's no way he won’t. 

He walks out of your office, filled with rage. He can’t believe this. He can only imagine how crushed you are. He knows you love him, even if you don’t know it. He knows you’re probably at home distraught. He owes it to you to make sure you two remain together forever.

He goes back to his room, but he still can’t sleep. He stares at the ceiling, imagining your pretty face in an attempt to calm his spirit. He’s rudely interrupted by his door opening. He looks at the clock and sees it's somehow 8am. Time flies so fast when you're on his mind. In walks another doctor he’s seen around the hospital. There's no way this happened so quickly. He can’t believe this. He sees the man speaking to him but he’s not hearing anything besides the ringing in his ears. 

“I want Y/N to be my doctor.”

“Unfortunately, she can’t. She hasn’t been making much progress with you. We're hoping a more experienced doctor like myself can help you more than she can.”

He looks at him blankly. He feels himself slipping away. His hands clench and reach under his pillow, grasping his knife as the doctor reads from his clipboard. He won’t let someone speak about you like this. He won’t let them take you away from him. He grabs the doctor's hair and slits his throat, sawing through the man's blood vessels until he falls limp. A guard runs in and attempts to wrestle the knife out of his hands but he overpowers him, plunging the knife into his chest repeatedly. Seonghwa’s fuled by blind rage, no one will stop him from avenging your honor. How dare they speak of you like this as he kills the fourth and final guard to come in. He hears alarms blaring in the distance and looks at the clock. It's 9:05 am, he can feel you on your way to him.

_________________________

The blaring of the alarms push you to run faster, entering the high security section of the hospital. The commotion from down the hall gets louder as you approach his room. You come to a halt as you see a stream of blood running down the hall, coming from beyond his door. A loud thud from inside his room breaks you from your trance,  you push open the door, seeing the bodies of guards surrounding his bed.   

“Hwa” you gasp, eyes trained on the battered bodies. “What did you do?” you breathe out, finally looking up at him. 

He looks up at you from across the room, eyes wide and bloodshot. 

“What did I do?” He laughs maniacally. “Y/N, This is your fault. I did this because of you.” he says as he begins to approach you. 

“THEY TRIED TO KEEP ME FROM YOU!” He yells. “You were supposed to take care of me. YOU PROMISED!” He traps you against the wall next to the door. “Isn’t that your job? Nurse me back to my right state of mind? Figure out what's wrong with me? But you didn’t do that. No,no, no you just made me fall in love with you, you made me want you! So don’t act like this is my fault.” he says as he lightly drags the knife across your throat.

“No ones going to keep me away from you, my love.” he whispers into your ear. He leans over and locks the door before looking back at you.

“Do you think I’m going to hurt you?”

“No.” you answer with full confidence.

He smiles at you, but it's not the same smile your Seonghwa gives you. You don’t know who this is. 

"I want my Hwa back, I don;t like you like this.”

“I am your Hwa, Baby. I did this for you Y/N. Don’t you see how much I love you?” he says, dropping the knife and kissing down your neck. 

“I know, Hwa.” you sigh heavily, feeling his cock hardening against your stomach. 

“Say you love me too. I know you do.”

Do you love him? Can you love someone who’d do this? The longer you stay quiet the more upset he gets. “It's ok baby. I’ll love you enough for the both of us.” he sighs. “One day you’ll realize how much you love me.”

He runs his hands down your body, squeezing your ass. He flips you around, pressing your chest to the wall. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Y/N. I’ll be all you think about for the rest of your life.”

He shoves your pants down and rips your panties off you, rubbing his fingers through you. “Fucking hell, you’re a filthy fucking liar. You do like me like this, look how wet you are.” he says bringing his soaking fingers in front of your face. Your breath quickens, seeing evidence of how wet you are.

“Just fuck me, Hwa.” you groan.

He pulls out his hard cock and rubs his tip through you. “I’ll make you mine, Y/N. You’ll let me cum in you right? Own this pussy”

“Yes, Hwa. Please.”

He lines himself up and slides in slowly, gripping your hips tightly at the sensation. 

“F-fuck, Baby. You feel so good, the best I’ve ever had.” he moans out. He fills you up completely, stretching you so painfully but not nicely. You savor the pain, it reminds you of  how taboo this is, how much you deserve to feel pain. Youre letting this psychopath fuck you in a room full of bodies, your colleagues blood on your body doing nothing but turning you on. You deserve to feel pain, but he turns that pain into pleasure with the first thrust. It’s like your pussy was made for him, you fit together perfectly. You can feel him in your stomach, so deep inside you, you can feel yourselves becoming one. He picks up his pace, thrusting into you harshly. 

“I’ve dreamt of this for so long. I’ve fucked my fist imagining it was this pussy. You couldn't even imagine all the nasty things I’d do to you, Bbay. I’d hurt you so bad but you’d love it, you’d beg me for more. B-beg me to make you mine.”

He pulls out quickly and flips you around, hiking you up the wall. You wrap your legs around his waist as he slides back in, fucking into you while staring into your eyes. 

“I need to see that pretty face when I breed you. I have everything planned out for us, Y/N. There's a beautiful house waiting for you, so many rooms to fill up with our beautiful babies. I know you’d be a great mother, my perfect little housewife.”

He picks up his pace, feeling you clenching around him, but desperate to come together. 

“I’d keep you full of my seed all the time, my love. You’d always feel me dripping out of you, I’d keep you nice and round with my babies for as long as I can. You want that don’t you? You wanna be my slutty little cum dump?”

You can barely answer him, let alone breathe. He’s hitting it so deep, you feel like your on another planet. You look down into his eyes and nod, mesmerized by his beautiful brown eyes. You’d let him do anything he wanted if it meant you felt like this forever. 

“Cum for me, my love. I’m going to fill you up so nicely, ok?”

You let go, clamping down on his cock and hearing his deep groan. His warm cum fills you up to the brim, leaking out of you, despite the vice-like grip your cunt has on him.

“So fucking tight and warm, baby” he blabbers, shallowly thrusting his seed back into you. He pulls you in for a kiss by your neck, claiming your mouth as his own. You pull back for air, giving him a blissed out smile. The words he so badly wants to hear hang on your tongue but you can’t give it to him yet. 

“I know, baby. You don’t have to say it, I already know.” he whispers against your lips and sets you down. 

He helps you fix your clothes and begins to pull you out of the hospital. As you see the chaos ensuing, the reality of the situation hits you. 

“Hwa, where are you taking me?”

“Hongjoong is outside we gotta go before the cops come.”

“Wait, what?” you pull back from him, stopping him in his tracks.

“Y/N, now's not the time.” he growls.

“Tell me what's going on.”

“You really think I was going to stay in this shit hole forever? Y/N, I’m not fucking crazy, I killed those people on purpose. The only reason I’m not rotting in jail is because I paid off the judge. I was planning my escape from the moment I got here but I only stayed this long because of you. So let's go.”

His words break you from your trance. This man is actually insane. You begin backing away from him but he gets visibly upset. “Y/N, don’t try this shit with me. You’re coming with me whether you like it or not.”

The dim lighting of the hallway and red lights from the alarms make him look sinister. For the first time you feel afraid of him. 

“I don’t want to go with you, Seonghwa.”

He looks at you blankly before grabbing you harshly. “

“I didn’t want to do it this way, Y/N. I wanted us to be happy, but if I have to force you to want me, so be it. He pulls out the sedative he took from one of the guards and pulls off the cap with his teeth. “You’ll be mine forever Y/N. That baby growing in your belly is proof enough.” 

He sticks the syringe into your neck, releasing the chemicals into your body. You feel the drugs immediately kick in, falling limp in his hold. 

“Hwa, please don’t.” you whimper.

He caresses your face with a pout. “Don’t worry, Baby. You’ll love me eventually, I’ll make sure of it.” 

He flashes you a wide, beautiful smile before everything fades to black.

[eideticallys]

Who Needs Time Management When I Have You?

pairing: spencer reid x reader

summary: one of the many perks of having a boyfriend with flawless memory is that you do not have to remember stuff—he remembers them for you.

genre: tooth-rotting domestic fluff

word count: 1.5k

author's notes: i wrote this because domestic!spencer reid is a guilty pleasure of mine. i can definitely picture him as an attentive boyfriend because aside from the fact that he has flawless memory, he's an overall caring guy. with that said, i hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this! also posted on ao3 (spencereids).

ONE OF THE MANY PERKS OF HAVING A BOYFRIEND WITH FLAWLESS MEMORY IS THAT YOU DO NOT HAVE TO REMEMBER STUFF—HE REMEMBERS THEM FOR YOU. Do you have a dentist's appointment at 9? Covered. He will be waking you up at 7 with breakfast in bed. Your sister’s birthday is coming up. No worries! He has already ordered a bouquet ready to be sent on the day. It is amazing, and you thank your lucky stars for him every morning when you wake up and see him cozily sleeping beside you.

However, you were out of luck on the boyfriend angle today. You had your monthly—or if the BAU is free—girls' night scheduled tonight. As much as you enjoy having girls' nights with the BAU girls, Spencer also likes to spend some time out with the guys for a nightcap or something, whatever the men at the BAU enjoy when there is no case. And that means, your boyfriend is busy getting ready to go out as well. Although Spencer has never forgotten a thing in his life—even when he is on the brink of life and death—you do not want to stress him out even more by asking him what you think you have forgotten to prepare.

So, today when you were running around the house like a madman trying to collect the stuff you need to bring to Garcia’s for girls' night, you have no one else to blame but yourself. You have depended on your boyfriend to remember stuff for you that you always leave the preparation at the very last minute. At the moment, you believe you’ve never hated yourself as much as you did now, which is quite the feat considering that you’ve hated yourself a lot before for chickening out on confessing your feelings to boy wonder—your boyfriend, Spencer Reid—only to find out he shares the same feelings.

Scratch that, you hate your boyfriend right now more than you hate yourself.

Currently, that same boyfriend has been snickering nonstop at you dashing left and right and gathering the things you need to bring. Face masks? Check. Wine? Check. What else were you forgetting?

“You know, there’s this study that says only 82% of people have a time management system.” 

Your ever-loving boyfriend, Spencer, decided to share. You were about to chuck the throw pillow at him because you could hear the I told you so in his voice, but you knew his fact-sharing and nagging was his unique way of saying, “I love you, but you could’ve remedied this problem by preparing the stuff you’ll need the night before.”

“No, I don’t, Spence. But, do tell.” 

At this point, you’re pretty sure Spencer was sporting a shit-eating grin and was probably holding in a laugh at the strain in your voice from recalling whether you’ve got everything so you can head over to Garcia’s. You’re pretty sure Garcia is about to talk your ear off if you’re running late. You missed out on the last girls' night after you bailed on them, wanting to spend the night with Spencer, watching Star Wars, and eating takeout.

“There's a survey done recently which revealed that 90% of people say better time management can lead to increased productivity.” Spencer started explaining, hands waving around as if to demonstrate the numbers in front of him. “However, only 18% of people have a proper time management system.”

“And?” 

“Well, it just reminded me of you.” Spencer pursed his lips now, as he tried to explain his thoughts without annoying you. “If you just had a proper time management system like a to-do list or a planner. You could save at least..” He stared at his watch and did the math, “You could save at least one hour and forty-three minutes of your time instead of panicking over whether you got all the things you need for girls' night.”

“I don’t need that when I have you. Don’t you think so?”

This made your boyfriend blush, and you giggled, heading towards his direction, so you could wrap your hands around his waist and bury your face into his chest. You were the luckiest person alive for getting to date someone as wonderful as Spencer.

What you just said would not have made anyone flush and nervous, but Spencer was different. You knew he’s never been in a formal relationship with anyone before you. Thus, from time to time, he still gets embarrassed by your antics which you’ll always be endeared by. You live to see your boyfriend getting flustered because it gives you a reason to shower him with affection like now.

“I love you too, Spence.”

You looked up at your boyfriend, who looked like he was about to burst from your directness. You and he may deal with a lot of blood and gore during work, but he can be the most fainthearted person alive when it came to your affections.

“B-but I didn’t say I love you..” He trailed off, confused as to why you were suddenly proclaiming your love for him. You grinned even more as you pinched the tip of his nose.

“You didn’t have to, Spence. I know your nagging is one way of you saying you love me, and I love you for that.” 

Spencer scrunched his nose and rubbed the back of his neck out of shyness. If you could keep him in your pocket for safekeeping, you would. He’s just too precious for this world.

“But, as much as I love you, I know just as much that Penelope will have my ass kicked by Emily if I get to her house late,” you broke free from your boyfriend’s comfy arms, checking the bags you packed while doing so. “I have to go, baby. I think I got everything I need.”

Picking up your bag and care package, you ruffled your boyfriend’s brown locks, which made him frown a bit and sigh. You snickered at his reaction and proceeded to walk towards the front door. You were about to reach the staircase just outside your shared apartment when you realized something. 

You forgot your car keys.

Berating yourself in your head, you were certain once you entered that door, Spencer would be on your case like a mother duck. He can be too fretful when it comes to you. Oh well, that is one thing you love about him. Huffing, you slowly turned the doorknob and found Spencer leaning on the wall just inside the door with his arms crossed, looking at you smugly. You rolled your eyes.

One thing about Spencer Reid is he can be a cocky little shit when proven right. And that happens most—if not all—the time, with his IQ of 187 and eidetic memory. Unfortunately for him, he also happened to date a cocky little shit—you—who likes to fluster the living lights out of him. And right now, you just thought of the perfect way to get back at him.

But first, your car keys. Spencer next.

Once you have retrieved the pesky item—like it’s the car keys’ fault, you forgot to get them—you turned towards the door, not paying any attention to your boyfriend, who was already cracking up at you. Only when you’ve reached the door, your back towards Spencer, did you smirk. Oh, he’ll never know what’s coming to him. You did a U-turn and 

“Forgot something, sweetheart?”

“Why, yes I did, Dr. Reid,” you stated plainly, beelining towards him, making him take a few steps back until he ended up with his back against the wall. He's so easy to fluster. "I forgot to do this."

You slanted your head and pressed your lips against his. Your bodies were snug against each other as you kissed heatedly against the wall. You could feel the flutter of his long lashes against your cheeks as he parted his lips slightly to kiss you deeper. You could taste your shared breath, smell his faint perfume, and feel the slight scruff of a stubble about to show up. Warmth blossomed in your chest when you felt Spencer caress your face as if you were fine porcelain.

Kissing Spencer Reid never gets old in your books. Despite his lack of romantic experience and being the eager researcher that he was, Spencer was an eager lover—he would kiss you every chance he'd get to know how to please you, which paid off, by the way. This may be a biased opinion but you think the best kisses you have shared were with Spencer.

However, like all good things, kissing Spencer has to end, or Garcia will have you banned from her house for running late.

You pulled away from Spencer and grinned at him, to which he returned with a stunned smile. You chuckled when you noticed your lipstick smudged on the corner of his lips and brushed a finger to erase it. You wouldn't want your boyfriend to be the subject of Morgan's teasing once they're together after this. Noticing the daze your boyfriend is under is about to wear off, and he was about to say something, you beat him to it by pressing a smooch on his nose and pulling away completely. 

"I gotta go, Dr. Reid. Don't miss me too much!"

You scampered towards the door and shot a wink at your bewildered boyfriend—who was now sputtering in indignation for interrupting what he was about to say. He is so cute.

[luveline]

how about some domestic stuff of post-prison reid and stripper!reader??? that one fic broke my heart in the best way

Prison changes a lot of things about Spencer, so when you get back to his place after a quick run to the grocery store and find him packing away some of his things into boxes, you're not alarmed. “Spring cleaning?” you ask, stepping around him carefully where he's kneeling by the TV stand. 

“Making room,” he says. 

He must have bought something. You put your tote bag in the crook of your arm and bend a touch to kiss his cheek, his hair brushing your face. “You have so many things, Spence, you need a storage locker. You need two.” 

He feels blindly up your arm. 

You put the groceries away, wash your hands, and cut some veggies. You season them and put them in the oven to roast, calling Spencer to see what he wants with it. “You could have the leftover chicken, or I can make, like… anything you want, actually. Pork chops, or maybe forget that and we'll have pasta, I can frankenstein the– Hey, Spence? You listening?” 

You're not mad. He's always been prone to deep thought, but usually he isn't looking straight at you while you talk. “Spencer?” 

“You'll move in with me, right? If I ask?” 

You wring your hands. “You've asked me a hundred times.” 

“But this time, you'll say yes.” He's staring at you. He already knows. 

“You can at least pretend to ask me.” 

Spencer closes the box in front of him. “Please, move in with me. I can't spend that long away from you ever again.” 

“You see me almost every day when you're not working.” 

He shrugs, smiles. “It's not enough.” 

You sit on the couch. He leans over his box to hold your leg. Spencer's asked you a bunch of times, first because he worried about your safety, then because he felt it was a good option as his friend, and then again because he loved you. And you always said no because you didn't want to depend on him, and because some nagging voice in the back of your mind kept telling you he'd realise he didn't want you as soon as you got close enough. But it's been a long time since you thought that way, and his stint in prison emphasised how badly you need each other. 

“So, it'll be equal?” you ask in answer. 

“I'm not saying that. The rent is ridiculous, and you didn't sign up for that, and I have no idea where we'll put all your clothes. But it'll be half yours, absolutely.” He looks especially happy though apprehensive; he hasn't realised you don't need convincing this time.

“I want to bring my pink lamp for the bedroom.”

Spencer's smile changes his entire face. Puppy dog eyes turn thinner, his lips part, his perfect teeth like pearls. “I want you to bring the pink lamp. Bring everything. No one will ever understand our decor.” 

You sink down on the floor in front of him and nudge aside his box for a hug. He gives it to you, and, in a slightly uncharacteristic move for him, he cuts the embrace short to kiss you soundly, his hand on your cheek. He kisses you again and again until you're laughing into his mouth. 

“Does this mean you'll let me propose?” he asks softly. 

Your breath catches. He doesn't sound particularly put together himself, bringing his second hand to your face, holding your forehead to this. 

“I don't think it's something I have much choice in,” you say eventually, your smile audible and immovable. 

You get to say yes or no, but his wanting to ask is all on him. He's flustered you unexpectedly, and the quiet laugh coming from what feels to be the deepest recess of his chest tips you over. You dip down into his neck slowly, hiding away in the curve of his shoulder as his arms come heavy behind you. 

“All I could think was how much stuff I didn't get to say to you, or do with you,” he says. “If they couldn't clear my name, I kept thinking about how much time I wouldn't get back.” 

You breathe out in a rush against his neck. “But you're out.” 

“Yeah. I am.” He strokes your back. “Lucky me.” 

[somnambulic-thing]

page 622 read on ao3

Eddie Munson x afab!reader E +18

summary: It's the middle of the night and you just can't find sleep. Eddie wants to help. He wants to help so bad.

Words: 3k

||reader has insomnia, smut, fluff, pinch of angst, LOTR references, domestic, nerds in love||

A/N: This is for all of us who haunt the nights. <3

Page 622 is graced with not one, but two dog ears.

That’s nothing unusual for the thick heavy paperback in your hands. A copy of The Lord of the Rings, all three parts united in one book and littered with battle scars like a gnarly old Orc of Mordor.

It belongs to both of you, bought on that whimsical fleamarket by the side of the road with spare change collected from the nooks and crannies of the van. It hadn’t mattered that you already owned a box set each, it had been clear that this book wanted to go home with you. Once integrated into your shared collection, it became the copy that was pulled out when Eddie and you had an argument about the most minuscule details to settle. It wasn’t a rare occasion that someone got tackled before they could claim victory over the matter. That brave book had been ripped from victorious hands more times than you could count and flung over shoulders, into corners or behind furniture.

It was also the copy Eddie used to ponder ideas. When he was writing a campaign and the atmosphere he was eager to create didn’t feel quite right, he would go down into the Mines of Moria or deep into the thicket of Fangorn forest and seek inspiration between the lines. There he left marks with the heavy tip of his pencil, elbows catching on the edges of pages as he reached for his notebook, creating new dogears, sometimes small tears.

You loved those marks and never grew tired of discovering fresh traces of his adventures. They kept you company on those days you wouldn’t get tired at all.

The world between the worn covers was familiar, the motions of the adventures committed to memory in many places, the adventurers friends that comforted you on restless nights.

You chose this copy over the others you own because it’s an intimate object, because you could trust it to catch you should you fall asleep on its pages, trust it to be more beautiful in the morning with more kinks and wrinkles.

But there were days when even the unhastiness of Treebeard wouldn’t do the trick to coax you into slumber. Today was such a day; stuck on the sofa on a dark, restless sea and no sleep in sight.

You hadn’t heard him coming.

“Just flopped around the mattress like a fish out of water looking for you.”

Eddie’s voice is deep and raspy and a little cranky around the edges. Your eyes shift from page 622 to where he stands in the doorframe, all tousled hair and sleepy eyes. There are lines on his right cheek, a shallow relief in the mirror image of his pillowcase. His boxers sit dangerously low on his hips and it tickles in your fingertips to follow the trail of soft hair and tuck them further down.

“That’s an amusing image,” you say with a smile as Eddie rubs one eye with his flat hand, nose scrunched up and wrinkly. “Can you demonstrate that to me?”

“Do not mock me. I awoke all cold and lonely…” he waves the other hand through the air. “Forsaken by my love.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, the mirth in your tone slipping just slightly, but Eddie catches it.

“How long have you been up?” he asks, banter put aside in exchange for worry and makes his way over to the nest of blankets and pillows you’d made on the sofa.

You frown, not sure you know the answer to that question, feeling like you’ve fallen out of the stream of time; trapped in endless night, doomed to read the same three sentences on page 622 again and again with nothing but your thoughts for company. Until now.

You turn to check the thin green digital numbers on the VHS recorder while Eddie lowers himself to the ground in front of you. “Almost two hours.”

“That’s no good,” he says softly and fumbles with the blanket draped over your legs in search of your skin, nudging the book off balance. It slides down your lap with a soft rustle. Dark, heavy eyes search your face for clues he knows you’re reluctant to give him and a warm palm finds your thigh moments later, an epicentre for violent goosebumps. You shiver and he smiles. “What can I do?”

“Nothing—“

“You underestimate my relaxing properties.” He places a kiss on your knee. “It’s pretty annoying, actually.”

You shake your head. “Don’t want to keep you up—“

“Want me to take over the reading? You just rest and listen—” He lowers his voice to a soft rumble. “—let me hypnotize you.”

“You really don’t have to—“

“Shhh… would you please just let me help?” Without waiting for an answer, Eddie slides the blanket off your thigh and covers it in soft, slow kisses.

“Can’t—“ kiss “go—“ kiss “back to sleep—“ kiss kiss “knowing—“ kiss “you’re out here alone. Suffering.”

His hair is soft between your fingers. You loosen a few small knots while you rake your nails over his scalp.

“Eddie… I…”

It’s exhausting being a ghost, to haunt the wee hours of the night unable to find rest. It was also lonely. There was a hazy barrier isolating you from the people around you. From the man whose company you craved so much but struggled to accept in this circle of hell.

Eddie has had his fair share of sleepless nights, had done plenty of haunting himself; but not like this, not without a trackable cause that offered some degree of sense. And you’d never wish this on him no matter how lonely you get, but sometimes, you find yourself envying him for the way he just falls asleep on any surface most days and with the envy, there comes resentment. The disconnect between resentment and longing a rope binding your hands behind your back, keeping you from reaching out.

Dark eyes are staring holes into your body as Eddie is waiting for you to continue, to give him something.

“You what, sweetheart?” He’s rubbing circles into your skin. “You want me to leave? Like, actually?”

“I don’t want to take my mood out on you…”

“Why not?” he grins. “We could make it fun. Tire you out, air out some of that—“ his hands leave your legs to gesture wildly through the air. The cold creeping in where his warm palms had just rested feels unbearably cruel. You don’t want him to leave. “— some of that pent-up… whatever it is.”

“Okay.”

Eddie’s brows vanish under tousled bangs. “Okay? Shit, I had this whole speech planned about how we’re a team and that you’re being so stubborn is a waste of time—”

“You complaining?”

“No… no…” he smiles and runs his hands up your thighs. “So, you wanna be a little… mean to me?”

“No,” you breathe out. “Don’t want that.”

He hums and nods, leans down and licks your skin; from your knee right up to the hem of your shorts. It’s the slightest touch, just the tip of his tongue, but the sensation sinks into your body like warm summer rain falling onto dry and dusty ground.

“Let me love you,” he mumbles against your thigh, running the tip of his nose along the border of fabric you hide behind. “I hate it when you feel lonely while I’m right here and fucking crazy about you…”

“You’re right here,” you repeat like in a trance. Eddie looks up at you, so soft and wild at the same time and so sincere and you feel the last layer of resistance melt as if it had never existed.

“Right fucking here.”

“Fuck me.”

Warm gentle hands begin to free your legs from the tangle of blankets and you marvel at how much of Eddie’s essence resides in his touch; soft but rough around the edges where his fingertips have put on tough skin over the years. There’s so much love, so much passion lingering in those points where you end and he begins.

Accompanied by the soft rustling of fabric, Eddie runs those storytelling hands up and down your thighs, from the inside to the outside and up to the round of your ass where he ever so slightly puts his nails against your skin and runs them down down down to the back of your knees where he holds on and pulls you further down the cushion. You yelp a little and then you both laugh a little and you lift your hips to aid him rid you of your shorts and underwear.

“M’ gonna try a thing,” he says and spreads your legs just wide enough to fit in between.

“Try w-what?” you ask around a hitching breath as you watch Eddie slide two fingers into his mouth. They glisten with spit when he pulls them out and you can hear a few drops hit the floor as he lowers himself down.

“You know how I sometimes take ice-cold showers to shock spiralling thoughts out of my mind?”

“I… what? AH!”

One long finger enters you swiftly, moves in-out-in-out and is joined by the other. Heat expands like a shockwave through your pelvis as all the blood rushes to greet the pads of Eddie’s fingers. He moves with precision in quick pulsing motions against that soft erogenous spot deep inside you, watching you closely.

“Good?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Not too much?”

“No,” you grit out as your hips start to twitch.

There is no smug little smile, no told-you-so grin, only deep concentration and a bright red blush high on his cheeks and you desperately wish he’d kiss you. That thought is gone and forgotten as that penetrating pulse quickens, deepens and Eddie’s mouth inches closer and closer to your clit. There’s a sharp tingling in your cunt, not quite a sting, not quite pain and it’s hot and delicious and as it spreads out into every corner of your body, the world gets smaller and smaller, shrinks countless miles each second until this sofa is the only place left in the universe.

“Holy shit, holy shit, those noises, sweetheart.”

You can’t hear a thing over the rush in your ears and as Eddie’s lips close around your confused, prickling clit, your eyes roll up and close.

And for an infinite moment, there’s nothing left but ecstasy.

When time starts up again, you’re re-entering the world shaking and gasping. Eddie is quick on his knees. One hand closing around your wrist and the other pressed into your back he pulls you into an embrace that you collapse into like a dying star.

“I love you I love you I love you…” he whispers into your hair and holds you holds you holds you until you feel solid again. “You good?”

You nod and hum.

Hands find your face and guide you up and you remember how badly you need a kiss when Eddie’s lips form pretty words so close to yours. “Now, let me take you to bed and—“ You interrupt him, pressing your mouth to his with desperate, sloppy urgency. He chuckles softly, catching your lower lip with his teeth for a gentle tug before he pulls away.

“Come on,” he kisses the corner of your mouth. “Really wanna continue this.”

“Can’t move… you broke me.”

“Oh, well, pretty sure you broke my fingers with your pussy so we’re even. Get up.”

You laugh and reach for the hand cupping your left cheek; you kiss the palm, run your tongue along his fingers and kiss the tips. “Better?”

Eddie’s brows shoot up and he takes a sharp breath. “Bedroom!”

He scrambles to his feet and pulls you with him. In motion like that, you can feel drowsiness settling in, slowly taking hold of your muscles. Your legs still feel shaky, almost heavy, and Eddie wraps an arm around your waist for the moment it takes you to steady yourself.

“Looks like it’s working,” he says softly.

“Feels like it, too.”

Finally, there is the smug smile you have been waiting for. “And it took me less than two minutes. ”

“You… checked the time?”

“For science,” he says proudly and the smile turns into a grin.

“Ah, science. Alright, Doc,” you reach down, hook a finger into the waistband of his boxers and let it snap. “I’m ready for the next experiment.”

Eddie tilts his head, narrows his sleepy eyes and hums. You can hear the cogs in his mind take up speed and then he sidesteps you and begins to rummage through the mess of blankets and pillows on the sofa.

“What are you doing?”

“Just a sec, you gave me an idea— ha!” He whirls around and shoves The Lord Of The Rings into your hands. Your reaction is tardy and you feel the cover catch on your thumb and bend in a way that probably leaves a crease but you have not time to check because Eddie is quickly maneuvring you to the bedroom.

He sits you down on the bed and swiftly pulls your shirt over your head and you have no choice but to let go of the book. It drops somewhere on the mattress and out of your mind when Eddie flicks on the bedside lamp and strips out of his boxers.

“Never gets old”, you marvel at the sight of him, pale and lean but soft and the smile you just conjured with those words seems nothing short of diabolical with the way the light catches his features from below.

You recede onto the mattress and he follows you like you’re magnetic, crawling after you until he’s back between your legs, kissing his way up your body, taking his time to caress your breasts with his hands and lips. Only when you yawn he stops and comes up to face you, to kiss you and you drink in the sigh of relief that he places inside your mouth as he slides his hard cock against your folds, you hold on to goosebump-covered shoulders as he pushes inside you.

“Never gets old,” he moans as he rolls his hips against you in deep, slow thrusts and kisses your nose when you have to giggle.

You’re not chasing ecstasy now, but wholeness, you’re not searching for a high, but for refuge. All your thoughts slow down while Eddie occupies all your senses.

“How do you feel?” he asks into the soft spot below your ear.

“Good… Sleepy.”

“M’ not saying I told you so—“

A chuckle tickles your skin and suddenly, a bolt of guilt and fear flashes through you. “But we can’t do this every time—“

“Hey!” He lifts his head to look at you, presses a finger to your lips. “Shhh… Don’t go there,” he says and puts his forehead to yours. “Come back… come back to me. I got you.”

“I’m here.”

“You just have to let me in…” He kisses you like he’s sacred you could vanish from beneath him and you swear you can feel his heartbeat reach out for yours, swear you can feel it pound against your chest like it’s begging for entry.

“M’ sorry,” you whisper and sling your arms around his shoulders. “I’m trying.”

And then he moves, slowly pulling his cock from inside you—

“Eddie?”

and stretches long across the bed to grab the book right off the edge.

“On your side,” he instructs and manhandles you into position before you can comply on your own and slides back into your cunt before you can process what’s happening.

“Fuck… oh fuck…” you moan as quick deep thrusts hit just the right spot over and over. You can hear the rustling of pages behind you and Eddie’s chest retreats from your back. “W-what are y- ah you…?”

‘It was not much more than a tall man’s height now…’  he reads the first line from page 622. You try to turn to look at him but he pushes you back. “Nu-uh, relax. M’ going to read to you and I’m going to fuck you till you pass out and maybe then you’ll think of waking me sooner the next time you pick up this book in the dead of night.”

You moan and laugh and there are tears in the corner of your eyes. “You trying to condition me?”

There’s no answer, he just keeps reading; shakily, punctuated in the quick rhythm of his thrusts and laced with moans of his own. You just close your eyes and let go and soon enough you’re close to the edge again.

’We are famisshed, yes famisshed we are, precious,…” he croaks in a toned down, breathy Gollum impression that’s highly confusing and you clutch the sheet, pulling it loose.

“Shit… you gonna make me come…”

After a few more lines he stops reading and you hear the book drop. Eddie presses close to you, softly bites your shoulder while a hand wanders down between your legs to play with your clit.

‘Yess, yess, nice water,’ said Gollum,’ he continues from memory.

“Oh, you asshole,” you groan.

‘Drink it, drink it, while we can! But what is it they’ve got, precious? Is it crunchable? Is it… tasty?’

One strangled moan falls from your mouth and then your insides tense violently. Eddie mercilessly fucks you through it and beyond and doesn’t slow down until he coaxes another orgasm out of you. He follows you this time. You feel him pulse and twitch deep inside of you, feel his hot breath on your shoulder and neck and one stray tear escape the corner of your eye. It runs down the side of your nose while you listen to both your mismatched breathing slow down again.

“I fucking love you,” you babble groggily. “So much… so much…”

Eddie places a kiss on the back of your head and picks the book back up, resuming where he left off. He stays inside you while he softens until he slips out. The distinction between characters fades, the gaps between words grow longer but you barely register it; it’s the sound of his voice that pulls you under into the depths of Morpheus’ realm and you’re finally ready to descend completely…

‘Look here!’ Sam whispered to Frodo, not too softly: he did not really care whether Gollum heard him or not. ‘We’ve got to get some Sleep—' Eddie pauses. “Precious? You asleep?”

Your slow, even breathing is all the answer he gets. He carefully reaches over you and drops the book on the mattress before he turns off the light and wraps his arm around you.

“Gonna find you in my dreams,” he whispers into your shoulder and follows you into sleep.

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: None (Yet) in chapters to come there will be smut (and lots of it) and possible violence/blood/gore

Chapter Word Count: 668

—-MDNI—-

A/N: My first Supernatural fic so I hope it doesn’t suck ass. Only proof read by myself, so pls let me know of any errors so I can correct! Also I know at this point in the series Dean is more serious, however I love pre-Hell Dean so imma bring some of those vibes in here. This is also posted on my AO3.

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I’m Not Your F*ckng Maid

-Prologue-

Dean was awoken with a slam inches from his face and he sprung to life, almost losing his balance before he realised where he was. He’d fallen asleep at the table with his face in a book and surrounded by heaps of paper - many of which he hadn’t even started to read through yet. Blinking awake and gaining his bearings, he heard a familiar voice ring through the room.

”You boys are disgusting, how do you live like this?” The older Winchester finally looked up to see Charlie lifting a plate of half eaten, day-old pizza whilst kicking several beer bottles aside so she could pull out a chair and take a seat next to Dean, who was pinching the bridge of his nose.

”Yeah well, we’ve been a little busy recently if you haven’t noticed,” his voice was gravelly from the sleep. Charlie put down the plate of old food and sat down, worry crossing her face as she looked at the man next to her. She knew they’d been under a lot of pressure lately with their work, so much so that the brothers were starting to neglect themselves. It had been months since they’d eaten proper food that wasn’t instant or take-out, they rarely went outside, always locking themselves away in the bunker to do research and the bunker itself was getting cluttered with bin bags and pizza boxes. Not to mention the piles of laundry that she’s noticed slowly starting to form its own ecosystem in the washroom.

“Yeah I get that, but you really have to look after yourselves. When was the last time you ate a vegetable?”

Dean scoffed.

“Yesterday, obviously,” he gave her a look like she was from another planet, and she rolled her eyes.

“The pizza sauce doesn’t count, Dean.”

He looked puzzled, raising an eyebrow, “Why not?”

Before she could even humour him with an answer, Sam emerged, rubbing his eyes.

“Oh hey Charlie, when did you get here?” His voice was equally as gravelly as Deans, so she assumed he’d also just woken up.

“Five minutes ago.”

“She called us disgusting Sam. And she said the sauce on pizza isn’t made from vegetables,” Dean gestured to Charlie like she was the fool as he looked up at his younger brother who now stood across from him on the other side of the table. Sam went to open his mouth to respond, but closed it again quickly and furrowed his brows, clearly unsure how to reply to his older brother without opening a can of worms. Charlie huffed.

“You guys need to sort yourself out. I only dropped by because I hadn’t heard from you for a while and thought you might’ve worked yourself to death. I can’t stay long because I’m meeting a friend for a drink. She’s already at the diner waiting for me”

“A friend?” Dean wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and the redhead smirked.

“I wish, sadly she’s into dudes,” she paused, a thought crossing her mind, “Come to think of it, she’s actually looking for work, you guys might be able to help.”

Dean and Sam shared a glance.

“She’s a hunter?” Sam asked.

“Not exactly. Her uncle was, so she knows about stuff, but from what I know she was just a research girlie,” Charlie peered at the mess of papers on the table, “and it looks like you could use the help.” She looked between the brothers as they stared at each other, like they were having some sort of unspoken conversation. A few moments passed before Dean slapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Sure ok, but we’re coming with you today to meet her,” he went to grab his jacket from the back of his chair, an eagerness in his movements before Charlie put her hand out to stop him.

“Great!” She grinned, before raising her eyebrows and pointing to them both, “but first you guys have got to shower, because I can taste your BO from here.”

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Up Next

Chapter 1

[mrsbarnesblog]

Smile

Summary: You're just looking at your amazing boyfriend and can't help but feel an overwhelming amount of love

Word count: 500

Warnings: nothing, just cute and domestic Bucky <3

Author's note: I've just reached 1000 followers omg. I never expected to have so many of you in such a short period of time. thank you so much everyone for the support. I decided to post this little drabble, while I'm working on another fic❤️

You weren't able to drag your eyes away from his face.

You and Bucky were sitting in your shared apartment on the sofa, under fluffy blankets. It was a free day for both of you, so you just decided to do nothing and watch too many shitty movies with a lot of unhealthy food.

He was sitting in the middle and you in the corner with your legs on his lap, and you both had a bowl full of ice cream in your hands.

You honestly didn’t remember what film you were watching, but when you heard that Bucky laughed—not just chuckled but fully laughed—you completely forgot about ice cream and everything else around you.

You were just staring at his smiling face. How his nose scrunched in the cutest way possible, how little wrinkles appeared near his eyes, how his head fell back, and how the adorable sound of his laugh filled your living room.

It was rare to see him this way—without a frown on his face, without dark thoughts filling his head—and you fucking loved these little moments.

It felt like you were looking at young Bucky. innocent and unbothered by anything in his life. Just a nerdy boy from Brooklyn who liked to go on dates and save his friend from trouble.

Of course, you loved any version of your boyfriend. Loved his grumpiness, his caution, and his inner strength. Loved the man who had gone through hell and back but was still fighting for his life. And you definitely loved being the person who gave him comfort and with whom he didn’t have to build a thick wall around himself.

Now, watching him and how safe he felt around you to act like this, your heart was filled with so much love that you wanted to cry.

"What happened, doll?" Bucky pulled you out of your thoughts. Looking at you without a big smile but still with soft eyes.

"Nothing." You mumbled, completely mesmerized by your boyfriend’s face. "I just love you. You are so cute and adorable, you know that?" You just said it without hesitation and saw, even in the dark room, how his face became pink.

"I love you too, baby doll." Another wide smile appeared on his face, and you smiled back at him. "C’mere, wanna hold you near with me." Bucky put aside his empty bowl and yours with already-melted liquid and dragged you to sit on his thighs, wrapping his hands around you.

You just chuckled at the way he was manhandling you and happily nuzzled into his neck, breathing in your favorite scent.

As he kissed your head and hugged you even closer, you both knew that being in each other's arms was the best place you could’ve been.

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Your Salaryman Husband | (Vol 3)

Vol 1 Vol 2 (not required) Vol 4 Vol 5 Vol 6 Vol 7 Vol 8 Vol 9

Salaryman!Kento x Housewife!Reader;

When Nanami works at home...

Word Count: 1.2k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, fem!Reader, light teasing, mentions curses

A/n: Domestic life is calling (as per usual)! Maybe I'll try writing in the mornings...

Three months.

It had been three months since your marriage to Mr. Kento Nanami, the ex-Jujutsu Sorcerer, current salaryman, and the love of your life. 

And it was just last week your husband made a rather interesting decision, something that you were very happy about. At first, that is. 

Nanami, a senior manager at an investment firm, already conducted the majority of his work online. Many people went on calls with their advisors, and lots of paperwork could be handled digitally. That was all good in his eyes, cutting down on paper and increasing work efficiency. He could get home quicker with less things to throw in his bag, which at that time of day was the second most prevalent thought on his mind, aside from you of course. 

It was for those reasons, that his company started to encourage working at home part time, which included a one week trial period. Upkeep on a physical property was expensive, having to hire janitorial staff and keep snacks and coffee in the break room. 

The first three days were to be as usual, going to work, and the other two would be out of the office, simple enough. As much as he loved being at home, training new employees was best done in person, and many clients still preferred meeting face to face. Hence, Nanami considered this to be a temporary situation. 

And so the two of you embarked on your latest project, creating some form of a home office. A temporary work area, furnished with a simple desk in a well lit room, away from the noise of your actions that he didn’t want to disturb. Thankfully your house had extra rooms.

Nanami set himself up in the first floor guest bedroom. It had large floor to ceiling windows, and simple white and beige decor. He could put his desk near the window, and have a nice background of the garden you kept beautiful and thriving - something he didn’t get to appreciate all the time at work.

You were ecstatic all through the week since receiving the news, having two more days with your husband at home. Nanami was never a bother, and being the in the guest bedroom most of the time, he wouldn’t be interfering with your plans. Days one through three of office going had you almost wishing for time to speed up, for the first time in your marriage. The days you loved the most, were the ones where you could spend all your time with him, even if he was working, you assumed.

Finally, your dream four days in a row of Nanami began, it was almost like the weekend - just with work still occuring. The perfect time to show off your domestic skills. 

Though you saw him all the time on the weekends, he wasn’t working then, and didn’t require quite as much energy. He already looked tired, something you hadn’t noticed before when he came home refreshed seeing your face. So you, as his dutiful wife, decided to make him something special to eat.

A fresh salad was going to be prepared using produce from the small vegetable garden you had started cultivating, but that marked the first of your problems. Nanami’s desk was right in the front of the window… in front of the garden. 

You tied your hair up, and threw a light jacket before strolling out the door that morning. Nanami was already working, you could hear his busy typing and the rifling of papers on his desk as you walked by. He gave you a smile before you left, refilling his cup of coffee in the kitchen. Your bag was held tightly in your hands as you walked off to the grocery store and shortly returned with a bounty of items. 

Food was cooked, and you and Nanami ate comfortably. He informed you of his day so far, and you did of yours before he left again, lunch break being over. 

You missed welcoming him home. If there was one thing you had gotten used to most, it was the joy that giving him a hug and helping him with his things Monday through Friday gave that you couldn’t stand not having. Dinner, which was usually special after being apart, was the same as lunch. Mundane things were mentioned, most events already covered hours ago. No great office scandals to report, there wasn’t an important printer to jam at home, or a lunch to steal from the break room fridge.

The next day came quickly, and maybe it was lucky that it was the last. Tomorrow would be Saturday, and his work would be over. It was almost a hindrance. 

As Nanami was being perfectly considerate, never having the volume up too high and keeping out of your workspace, you tried to do the same. The only problem then, was that it was cleaning day, for all the rarely used peripheral rooms of the house, including the first floor guest bedroom and surrounding areas. 

The thought of interrupting your husband’s important work call was frightening enough as you pondered it in your mind, holding the vacuum as you rested against the door of the guest bedroom, having finished with the living room. You could hear him talking, his voice had a trace of agitation as he spoke through his computer, a difference intensified by the cheery voice. 

“Goodbye,” Nanami spoke quickly, shutting his laptop and standing up out of his chair, as you continued to listen. It was a few minutes after 5:00 PM, and Nanami was done with work. You quickly ran away to store the vacuum, before you two could eat dinner, which you finished early. 

“So how was it?” You asked, both of you seated with food on your plates. “It has it’s benefits, I see that now,” he responded, taking a bite. “First of all, I get to eat lunch here with you instead,” you smiled at his comment, knowing how much he enjoyed your cooking either way. “Then again, you seem more stressed than usual,” you swirled your spoon around the dish a few times, avoiding his gaze. “I like having you around more,” a truthful statement. “If I’m causing you any complication with your work, you should tell me, Y/n. Even if it’s just for a couple days.” he stated, putting his hand on top of yours. “I could hear you by my door, you know,” You opened your mouth, but were quickly interrupted. “Don’t even try to deny it, I am - was a Jujutsu Sorcerer,” the two of you let out laughs far better than the ones from yesterday. “Even a low grade curse is more stealthy, though I doubt one could cook as well… among other things…” He muttered, taking a drink of water.

“I don’t think I’ll be continuing this.” Nanami smirked watching your eyes light up. “The trainees were in sweatpants behind the screen,” you nodded, listening intently. “Anyways, we don’t have very soundproof rooms, now do we,” he added, “I’m sure it would make your work much easier.” 

“I’ll still miss you, my darling,” your frown came back. He moved your hand so he could hold it properly, lacing his fingers between yours. “We’ve still got all weekend, right?”

[peceraynadamas]

Nobody:

Me after finding fallenwings: I have the perfect mitski song for this

Genuinely had the shittiest week ever, but there's no going mad after discovering this bad boy. The concept of Vaggie and Lute being bitter, toxic yuri exes is too irresistible. I am not really a fan fiction person, but I read a fic earlier, it changed my life, so gonna make a bunch of stuff for them now. I just have so many thoughts about them and their parallels.

Like if they were exes, that means they were domestic once, right? (privately perhaps bc of Lute's homophobic ass lmao). But what if Lute took Vaggie on many dates to dance and spar together or Vaggie showed her how to make pupusas and laughed when she realized Lute wasn't paying attention at all, too busy watching her in her element.

A relationship born from rivalry to friendship and beyond, all that love, and they'll never belong in each other's arms ever again.

The angst is very nice.

Aside from my blabbing, trying out something different with my art style. Drawing necks after not drawing them for so long is weird, I can't say I know how to feel about it yet.

[babydin]

Love in the Middle of a Firefight

The pregnancy is easy, despite the circumstances. The pregnancy was the easy part, Joel was supportive, he helped out, he ran around like a Retriever whenever you asked him to and Ellie asked a million questions every single day. But when the baby arrives Joel doesn't know if he remembers how to love something so fragile. - Joel Miller x f!reader - 18+, minors DNI! - (1/?) - Joel is dad, Joel is Daddy, paternal postnatal depression, pregnancy sex, oral. Not necessarily in this chapter, but for sure in this series!! Trauma references. Domesticated af. Angsty in places! - 1868 words - Comments/likes appreciated. Requests are open! - A/N: I didn't think too hard about the timeline, just vaguely after the events of S1, they go to Jackson to Tommy's place and live there and nothing bad happens. This will be in multiple parts but I haven't planned for how many! There will be time-jumps in each of the parts because I'm impatient™️

You haven’t heard him say the word ‘resources’ since the three of you were backpacking across the country trying to get to Jackson and your heart breaks at how quickly he has slipped back into survival mode.

“Joel I–” The words catch in your throat as he looks up at you after hearing his name. He always has an expectant look on his face whenever you say his name; he’d been so attentive since the two of you had settled town in Jackson with Ellie. You didn’t dare say it out loud, or to his face, but the man was domesticated. He was tamed and you hadn’t done a thing, he’d just set his battles aside. Both of them were, Ellie had agreed to go to school, and Joel helped around the town in the mornings then returned home for a late lunch. Just to prove your point, he was doing dishes when you found him.   “Joel, I’m late.”

He set down the bowl from breakfast he was drying with a dish towel and then wiped his hands on his jeans, “Well, where d’ya need t’ be? I’ll drive you.” Your face scrunches and you shake your head, you’d smile if you weren’t so scared. You don’t want to say it out loud, saying it out loud would make it real. Maybe if the world hadn’t fallen apart and supplies weren’t limited, risks weren’t significantly higher because of all of that you’d be a little more excited, you’d have ran to the nearest drugstore to buy a home pregnancy test and taken it immediately. “Joel.” you say his name again, firmer this time, hoping he hears you. He’s halfway between grabbing the keys to his truck and the kitchen sink, those attentive eyes trying so desperately to figure out what you’re trying to say. Your fingers grip the counter and your heels push back into the ground so your head can bow down to the ground;  if you’re going to say it, you don’t want to look at him, “I haven’t missed a period since I was 14. You could set a clock on it. I should’ve had it three fuckin’ weeks ago, Joel.” His silence is deafening. There’s no elation, there isn’t any regret though either, and if you know Joel like you think you do he’s probably going through the same thought process as you are. Thinking about where the supplies are going to come from, how the baby is going to be born, babies had been born since the outbreak it wasn’t unheard of but he wasn’t exactly carrying a four leafed clover. Except you knew Joel’s history, you knew he had lost a child, you knew he had struggled to bond with Ellie when they first met, you knew how reluctant he had been to open his heart up to being a father again when he felt himself getting closer to her. But he was a dad now, her dad; they had a strange relationship and they cursed at each other and played at roughhousing in the living room, they’d zing each other and then laugh about it afterwards, but Joel tucked her in every night and he listened to her problems and helped her with homework, and hugged her so tightly when her emotions got too big for her to voice. You take a breath and it shakes in desperation, fighting to keep your shit together as you felt his gaze burning into you, “Say something Joel, for fucks sa–” “It’s going to be fine.” There was that asshole voice you thought he had given up when you had settled down in Tommy’s town, you had to pull yourself upwards to look at him because you did not believe a single syllable that came out of his mouth. Not in that flat, robotic tone. That wasn’t a reassurance that was a reaction. That was just something he was saying to make you feel better, it wasn’t something he believed. Suddenly, his jagged expression softened and he pushed his jaw out slightly, his eyes got bigger and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He repeats himself, “It’s going to be fine.” this time he sounds so sure. He sounds like he has a plan, he sounds like he’d walk through gunfire for you. “Let me – Let me talk to Tommy; See what kinda resources they have, maybe they got one’a those ultrasound machines,” he starts rushing, grabbing his boots and trying to put them on without sitting down which does nothing for his back, “then we’ll know for sure.” You blink hard, you haven’t heard him say the word ‘resources’ since the three of you were backpacking across the country trying to get to Jackson and your heart breaks at how quickly he has slipped back into survival mode. “I’m sorry.” you whisper the words but he doesn’t hear you.  “I’ll be back.” he kisses your cheek and then he’s gone. You picture a world before the outbreak, where Joel never endured all that trauma and you tell him you think you’re pregnant and his face lights up and he picks you up and spins you around and offers to book your first scan. You’d spend hours on the couch talking about nursery ideas and baby names, and tell him not to get his hopes up in case you’re not actually pregnant but he just scoffs. Before the outbreak, you would’ve told Joel you thought you were pregnant and he would’ve been an excitable dad of two. In the outbreak, you told Joel you thought you were pregnant and his first instinct was how to survive it.  You sit on the couch with your arms wrapped around you and wait for him to come back. A million thoughts swirling around in your mind about every possible outcome of this, you tried your hardest to focus on the ones that ended happily, but without Joel there it was hard. “Come on.” You jump at the sound of Joel’s voice, your eyes finding a clock to see how long you had been sitting in your thoughts as he pulls you up off the couch. He’d come back at least. “Put your shoes on, darlin’. The hospital has an ultrasound, they’re callin’ for a nurse to meet us there.” It wasn’t much of a hospital, it was a bakery they had used for medical supplies. There was a refrigerator and storage large enough for medicines but it was a glorified med-bay at best. Nothing bad enough happened in Jackson for them to need a full hospital, if it did they’d have to drive out of town, and if they were lucky they'd make it in time to return for them to recover at home. In the 8 months you’d lived there, the worst thing that had happened was Mr Jellinsky getting chased out of the chicken coop by a pissed off rooster. He tripped and got his ass bit right between the cheeks and Joel laughed and said, “There’s a dick joke to be said, but I ain’t gon’ be the one to say it.” and you had never heard him sound more Southern. “Joel, what–” You didn’t know how that sentence ended. What if you are pregnant? What if you died in childbirth leaving him a single father of two? What if you weren’t pregnant? What are you going to do with a baby? “Put your shoes on.” He moved to grab your shoes from the door and brought them to your feet. “Joel—” He bent down and picked your feet up off the ground one by one to slip them into your sneakers, “You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout a thing right now, okay? Let’s just let the nurses look at’cha and then we’ll talk.” “Are you scared?” Joel stood up and scoffed a little, he looked at you with those heavy brown eyes once again searching for your soul,reading you like a book. There was a time when he would’ve lied and tightened his jaw and said no, but not these days. “Sweet thing, I’m terrified. Let’s go.” It wasn’t at all far for you to walk from your little cabin-like home to the place you needed to be, Joel slipped his hand into yours half way there and you found such comfort in the way his large hands enveloped yours. You had never noticed how many babies were in Jackson until now, and the parents all seemed content with their lives here. As you laid back on the gurney and answered the nurse’s questions, you occasionally glanced over at Joel. He’s been here before and he’s trying to figure out how to be there again, his teeth are chewing on the inside of his cheek, you’re desperate to know if he’s more anxious to hear a yes or a no. “Have you had any other symptoms besides your period being late?” You shrug and shake your head, you’ve never been pregnant before so you don’t know what ‘symptoms’ means in this case. “Have you been peeing more than usual? Any nausea in the morning?” You try to remember, and shake your head but you really don’t recall. “Any cramping?” You hum and put your hand on your stomach but she bats it away softly so she can pull up your shirt and prepare it for the ultrasound, “I mean, a little but I was just expecting my period so I didn’t really think anything of it…” “Any tenderness or soreness in your breasts?” You shake your head again but Joel clicks his tongue in protest and pipes up in a voice that’s so gravely and sounds like he hasn’t spoken in a week, “You wouldn’t let me touch you last week because you said your nipples were sore.” You take a moment to consider his words and he almost has you convinced that maybe you are pregnant. A cold jelly like substance is dispensed onto your stomach and you gasp and your muscles twitch, the nurse smiles and apologizes. You turn to the screen and Joel moves closer to you. It fills with static that ebbs and flows as the nurse moves the probe around your lower stomach. Even as she explains it to you, you can’t make out what exactly you are looking at but you trust she knows. Then she stops, and Joel sinks to his knees, “This is your uterus–” she gestures on the screen, He wraps both of his hands around yours and brings your knuckles to his lips and you can feel his smile and his heavy breaths as he becomes overcome with emotions. “--- and this little thing here that looks like a peanut…” She didn’t need to finish that sentence for you to know how it ended. The way Joel had reacted, the way it looked on the screen, barely there but very much obvious. Your cargo. You look at Joel as the nurse tells you that you’re pregnant and his eyes are full of tears that he doesn’t allow himself to cry, he’s hiding his mouth behind your hand but his cheeks are dimpled and you know he’s smiling. Relief washes over you and you feel like a fool for doubting him for a second, a fraction of your anxieties lift and you realize he’s with you. When he said it was going to be fine, he meant it.

[seonghwaddict]

stupefied — kang yeosang

in which a small accident leads to something more.

prince!kang yeosang x fem!reader. genre. fluff, domestic fluff, slight crack. warnings. they're super awkward, description and mentions of wounds, a tiny bit of blood, they're super cute. wc. 5.8k.

lilo's notes. hi i'm back :3

　　　　　　　　　main masterlist

There was nothing that could explain why Prince Kang Yeosang was roaming the woods, other than the fact that he desired a break. He told his servants not to go looking for him because he was on a personal mission, but in reality, he wanted to mindlessly wander around in a disguise that would not attract attention. He set off in his worst garments and a hood above his head. The brief vacation was only supposed to last for a day, but it did not go as he had anticipated.

After winding his way through snow and wood for so long, he fell into a rhythm. His defences were down and his thoughts were building themselves into other things until he heard singing. It was an enchanting melody, but that did not keep him from being wary. Once he brought more focus to his path, he realised that the part of the forest he was in felt unfamiliar. He told himself he was too competent to fall into such a generic trap, so he got off his horse and secured him to a tree. After asking his companion not to make a sound—as if the animal would understand him—he moved further with much caution and hands raised. His fingers twitched as the voice grew louder and his boots pushed quietly onto the earth.

Up ahead, you hummed a sweet melody. However, you faltered for a second when you heard the snap of a twig. It was easy to believe that it was likely one of the many harmless animals that liked to roam about the area in the afternoon, so you continued. Your confidence began to diminish once the sounds of birds twittering faded into silence. It did not look like a storm was coming, so the safest conclusion was already thrown aside along with your composure. By all accounts, if you were so nervous, why did you continue singing?

As Yeosang passed a shrub, he saw you by several bushes filled with various berries. His first thought was not him questioning why a young woman would be by herself in this secluded part of the forest. Instead, he thought of how carefully your fingers skimmed across each fruit to study them. He was close enough to see the way the sun caused a glimmer that beamed off your shoulders and brought a shine to the locks of your hair. If he was closer, he would have seen that your rosy lips were the result of you biting them to strengthen your concentration on berry picking. To his hidden delight, those same lips did not stop singing as minutes passed. The sight before him eased his suspicions significantly, but he was still hesitant about making his presence known. The Prince had planned to turn on his heels and try to forget what he saw, but once he put his guard down, his vigilance followed suit. A larger branch whimpered as it cracked from the weight of his body, and the next thing he could properly process was the girl’s frightened eyes meeting him.

From your perspective, it was after you had noticed that the birds were completely silent that you heard the branch break. You glanced at your surroundings briefly, picking up the largest rock you spotted. Just in case. You were on edge more than usual, so you whipped around to see why the sound was coming from behind you, and what had been causing it. Any other creature was what you expected, but when you saw a man crouched behind a shrub, you instinctively screamed and threw the rock right at him, hitting his head. The basket of freshly picked berries was knocked over as you tried to gather the fabric of your dress. Your shoes carried you to the nearest tree and you hid behind it and held your breath. The anticipation grew up your spine as the silence persisted. Minutes passed without any response from the mysterious man so she peeked. You could see the man’s wavy black hair still peeking out of what he previously hid behind.

You had concluded that ten minutes was not the normal amount of time that someone would pretend to be unconscious, so you approached his still body with your hands stretched out, ready to defend your own life. His face was the first thing she noticed about him. His features were so striking that you felt that if you reached out with your hands, your fingers would have bled. His physical appearance did not match the frayed clothing that he was wearing. Every strand of his hair fell into perfect position even though he had been knocked down on the ground. He was well-groomed in every sense of the word. It was odd. From your speed search, there did not seem to be any weapons on him, which made the situation even stranger.

“Oh, no.” You sank to the ground in shame.

Your fingers warily made their way to his wrist to check for a pulse, then his neck. He was so cold that without the hammering beating of his heart, she would have assumed that he was already dead. The growing red colour on his arm and the thin cut on his temple made the situation even more critical. You needed to get him to your home, but you did not know how to. You scrambled to pick up the man, but the weight you felt when you attempted to lift him by his shoulders was enough to convince you that dragging him back home would not work. Everything seemed pointless until you heard the heavy breaths and cries of a horse not too far from where you were. You thought that if it was not this strange man’s horse, then who else would be around to tie a horse to a tree? After practically begging the horse to lie down, you were finally able to drag the man onto it. That’s when you definitely knew you made the right decision. The majestic, pitch-black creature seemed so comfortable with the heavy man thrown over it like a towel.

“Come along now, sweetie.” You took the horse’s reins and walked it to your cottage.

When Prince Yeosang woke up, the first thing he saw was a cat. It was perched on his chest with no thought about the consent of the stranger. Its mismatched green and blue eyes almost distracted Yeosang from the fact that he was in a room that he was unfamiliar with. Not only that, but he felt something wrapped tightly around his arm and something else sticking against his temple. Before he could panic, he heard someone coming into the room.

“Laura!” You came rushing in. The cat was quickly removed from the prince’s chest, and he felt like he was left completely thoughtless. You tried to cradle Laura, but the cat leapt from your hands and out of the room. “I’m so sorry,” oyu said. The man stayed completely still, as the emotion on his face still remained ambiguous. You took that as your cue to introduce yourself with your first name. You waited to see if he would introduce himself too. When he didn’t, you continued. “You fell on a rock and were out cold when I checked you. Um,” you quickly pointed to the window on your right, “your horse is outside. I fed him… he’s really pretty.”

“Thank you,” he said. At any other time, the prince would be ready to fight his way out of a situation, but he was more focused on the light from the candles in the room gently contouring your face. Your beauty was painfully enchanting. It was a surprise how your features stupefied him the moment you stumbled through the door.

“Your food.” You dashed out of the small room as quickly as you came in. Your dress moved like billowing clouds as you made haste to retrieve his food, your quick footsteps giving the illusion that you were floating. Yeosang felt like he was looking at a person from the very fairy tales he heard as a child.

You came back in carrying a tray with a bowl and utensils in the centre. “Would you like it?”

“Like what?”

“Some food,” you nervously stated. Your idea of bringing the man back to your cabin was as awkward as you expected it to be, you were starting to regret your plan.

“Oh…” he nodded, “yes, please.” It should not have been that easy for a stranger to convince him to ingest anything, but he already had the silverware in his mouth before he was mentally chastising himself for being so easily charmed.

“I’m sorry for the confusion. I think you got cut on a sharp rock because your arm was bleeding really bad,” you said. That is when Yeosang finally stopped eating and looked at his left arm. It was utterly embarrassing that he did not notice it was entirely bandaged until now. He did not want to admit how bad it looked from the few discoloured parts of flesh peeking through. “And… you must’ve hit your head on something. I put some plasters on the little bit, but I think it should be fine by now.”

“Still, I would hate for you to continue your journey with an injured arm,” you added. You kept your attention on his wounded limb, it was jarring to see how dark his eyes were. They intimidated you into looking anywhere but at him and attempting bad conversation. “You can stay here until you feel well enough to return to what you were doing if that’s what she would like.”

“Thank you so much for your kindness.” Yeosang was no longer going to lie to himself. He knew he would rather spend days with the bewitching woman who saved his life than return to his very own prison. He would just hope that you didn’t have any ill intentions because it would be a shame if he would have to take you out himself.

“So,” you got up to mindlessly shuffle some stuff in the room. “What’s your name?” you grinned.

“Yeosang,” he replied without much thought. He wanted to take it back, but it was too late. No one really called him that anymore—but if you didn’t recognise him as the prince of this nation, he would try his best to keep it that way even if he could only experience a form of normality for a few days.

“That’s a lovely name… May I ask where you’re from? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around the nearest town…” You trailed off at the end in hesitation.

He thought for a moment before he said, “Gyeongju.”

“Oh, my—What’s it like? I’ve never been to the capital.” You could not stop your true reaction from escaping.

“It’s…” he let out a sigh, “pleasant.” The conversation died for a moment so you focused on Laura making it to the top of your dresser. It was your excuse for still not looking at him. “Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I was raised here” you replied as you stroked Laura. He nodded. The conservation did not go any further until you chimed in again, “Well, it’s late. It’s such a shame that you just woke up.”

“I’m sure I’ll sleep,” he voiced politely.

“Okay.” You smiled and began to snuff out the candles around the room. “The door’ll be open so if you have any problems, you can just ask.”

The prince mindlessly nodded to your instruction. It would have been easy to ask where you would be if he was not so uncharacteristically timid. Yeosang refused to try to sleep. There was still some hesitance that made him cautious of sinking into the bed with a weak arm. It grew stiffer as the night continued, so he distracted himself with a book that was left on the wooden dresser.

The feeling of a weight on the Prince’s chest woke him up. When his eyes snapped open, they were looking at the sharp eyes of a feline which brought back memories of the afternoon before. His consciousness did not scare away the cat—as he had desired—but he knew picking up Laura would surely bring unpredictable pain. So, he stayed in an undisclosed staring match with her even as he heard small movements outside the room. After a short period, his focus broke once he heard distant calls for the cat. The young Prince looked back at the cat, which was now preparing to fall asleep on his lap until it met his eyes again. Laura stood right back up—he almost expected her to groan—and hopped off of the bed and out of the room. He followed suit, careful not to strain his injuries, and got out of bed. His body ached more than he was used to. It hurt all over, but there was a more pronounced pain in his forehead. Unfortunately, there was not much to do but follow the path Laura had shown to the kitchen.

“Laura—” The cat quickly interrupted you by hopping into your arms as you crouched. “Where did you go?” you petted her. Yeosang walked into the kitchen, but his steps in his shoes were very quiet. You didn’t notice him until Laura turned from staring at absolutely nothing to the towering wounded man. “Did you wake him?” You whispered to her. Laura continued to stare at the towering, pale man. “I apologise,” you muttered. He nodded with the faintest, courteous smile. You took the trace of emotion that you were given and pulled out a dining chair as you gestured him over. His long legs took him over to the dining table without much effort.

“Thank you.” He completed a small bow, and he sat. Instead of going into his meal, he looked around as you were occupied with trying to get Laura to eat. His brief scanning of the house had him see his horse through the window to the right of him.

“He was fed this morning,” you reassured him.

“Thank you.” He felt like an echo in a cave. He still had not said anything besides constantly thanking you for your hospitality. “He appears to be doing much better than I am.” He was satisfied to see how easily you let out a small chuckle.

After making sure Laura had finished eating, you rose and grabbed the handles of a woven picnic basket. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” you told him as you looked at his nose instead of his eyes because it was easier that way. You turned to Laura and whispered to her ears, “Please, behave, and don’t embarrass me.” As if she would listen if she could. As you went through the door, you looked back for a brief moment. You saw the man’s head whip back to attentively look at the cat on the dining chair. You closed the door and sent a small prayer that if the man tried to take anything or cause any trouble, then your cat would at least try to put up a fight.

Once the door had completely closed and your gentle footsteps grew quieter, he waited three minutes while eating and carrying on the staring match he had with the tabby cat, then got up and let his legs lead him throughout the house. Different varieties of dried flowers spun into circles were gently laid into a bowl. Next to it was the basket of berries he believed he saw yesterday. Plates were lazily leaning against the wall on a shelf while mugs were hanging from hooks. A sweet smell lingered in the kitchen, even though it looked recently cleaned. He couldn’t exactly name the scent but it resembled a mixture of vanilla and something fruity. He did not lose interest in the kitchen but knew his nosy lingering may take longer if he stayed. Yeosang walked to the living room to see two small armchairs next to a well-maintained fireplace. The abundance of shelves on the wall were filled with many books of varying sizes and colours. There was a knitted blanket haphazardly tossed over the chair facing his room.

He continued scanning the room and saw a closed door he never noticed; he had no time to think about the chairs any further. Had he been a guest anywhere else, he would have honoured privacy, but he considered this a unique circumstance. His fingers enveloped the handle and the door whined as he slowly pushed it open. All he did was poke his head in and was met with a clean and very simple room. It was a lot like the one he slept in, except there were different items decorating the tiny dresser. 

Ultimately, Yeosang felt pleased enough with what he glimpsed that he took his snooping to the front door. He held the door latch, peered through the window next to it, and opened the door.

The sun hit his cheeks in small ruptures as its rays tried to twist through the thick trees that blanketed and guarded the cottage. His horse stood without any sign of distress. Yeosang petted the horse while simultaneously giving him some of the berries that Yeosang took off of his plate.

The Prince looked around the exterior of the cottage as his companion leisurely absorbed the sun. The house almost appeared swallowed by bushes, shrubs, flowers, and a few potted plants. His slightly tattered shoes led him around the house. There was a small garden of salad leaves in their pots. With one of his hands brought behind his back, he leaned in to look further at the vegetation.

“You found dinner.” 

Your small voice only tapped his ears, but it startled him into losing his balance. He would have caught himself if she had not assumed he would crush the leaves and attempt to catch him. Your hasty moves caused your steps to be misplaced and she crashed into his hard, warm back. You expected to take him down with you, but he did not budge. Once you realized your face was not meeting the dirt, but rather remained on his back, you erected your spine back up and tried to ignore the wave of embarrassment.

“I’m sorry!” You frantically tried to smoothen the wrinkles on his clothes while avoiding his eyes.

You thought you heard a chuckle come from him. It would have been hard to miss it if his shoulders did not shake when he laughed. “I should be apologizing,” he briefly looks at the plants before switching to look you in the eyes, “I’ve been exploring.”

“That’s fine,” you assured. As he watched you pick up your basket, Yeosang wondered how he got so occupied that he did not notice your return. You walked back to the front of the cottage and inside without checking to see if he was following you. Laura poked her head up upon the opening of the door and right back down when she saw it was you.

“May I?” you heard him say. You turned and saw him, gesturing toward the rows of books you had on display.

“Go ahead,” you said, “there’s not a lot for you to do around here, unfortunately.”

“It’s quite alright, this is enough entertainment.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” You went back to rummaging through a cabinet for the items you needed to tend to the plants outside.

For Yeosang, the morning went by as quickly as the last chapter of the book had arrived. He noticed that you had gone outside, but not that the sun had already made it to its highest point by the time he closed the story and set it aside. He made an effort to inconspicuously look outside the window leading outside to the front of the house to see if he could spot you and not just a tall black horse. His effort was a failure, but his pride found another alternative. The Prince rose from the chair and walked outside.

As he pretended to walk closer to his companion, he got a much better view of you. Your hands were occupied with tending to the pieces of each plant as your eyes followed them with deep concentration. He saw strands of your hair spilling out of a patterned headscarf you used to protect yourself from the sun. From those same strands came a single bead of sweat that started from your head, down the side of your face, and past your jaw. It continued down your neck and that’s when he refused to keep looking further.

“How was the book?” You looked at him for a moment to see him looking at his horse with too much focus.

He looked over and tried to pretend to have just noticed you. “Good,” he replied. He watched you get up from the ground.

You removed your gloves and walked closer to him. “Could I– um–” She pointed to his bandaged arm.

“Of course,” he replied.

As soon as you were given permission, you took his hand with one hand and lifted his arm with the other. You inched closer in hopes of seeing more without having to move the arm any more than needed. During your inspection, from his height, he was able to see the natural curl of your lashes. The fragments of the sun made the warm glow of your skin more apparent. When you took his hands, it was a moment of cold clarity. He could not remember the last time he was so aware that he was touching another person as it was happening.

“Yeosang?” you looked up at him and were surprised by the lack of space you were giving him. It was easier to pretend that you did not notice.

He hummed in response

“I asked you ‘how much does it hurt?’”

“It aches, not as painful as yesterday, though.”

You nodded, gently placing his hand back down. “And your head?” You gestured at your temple.

“Feels fine to me.”

“Wonderful.”

The rest of the afternoon flew by thanks to the chores she tended to outside and inside, with Yeosang lingering behind you every step of the way. He offered help many times, but you denied his offers and told him not to put stress on his arm. Not wanting to be completely useless, he held a short conversation. It was when dinner was ready and Laura was eating out her plate that you both fell back onto the topic of where he was from.

“Forgive me for asking, but what’s the Palace like?” you asked. He mentioned working there during one of your short conversations.

“Um,” he thought for a moment as he chewed, “clean, I suppose?” You finally heard the sound of laughter not just from yourself, but from him as well as he shrugged. It was nice, and it filled up the house with warmth. “I’ve never had the chance to observe it all,” he said.

“Were you busy?”

“Many duties,” he claimed.

His responses were as short as the time you had known him, but they were getting longer, much to your delight. You wanted to ask him what his job was, but you were not sure if you would be poking too much into his personal business. However, your curiosity about the outside world fueled you to keep going. “Are those duties being neglected right now?”

 “Possibly.”

“I’ll try my best to help speed up your recovery,” you pushed around a piece of asparagus on your plate.

“Much appreciated, but I’m sure they don’t miss me too much.” He quietly appreciated your questions, because as he answered them, the excitement in your eyes never dimmed.

You nodded in response and continued to eat. You pretended not to look at him as he ate, but even in the evening, the dim lighting of the candles scattered around the house made his face look even more enticing. You saw him glance over to check on his horse outside.

“Your horse should be fine outside. Nothing ever comes by here,” you assured.

“It is quite an isolated home,” he realised.

“Yes,” you agreed.

It was quiet for a few more moments until he asked a question of his own. “Have you always lived here?”

“Yes. Can’t really remember living anywhere else.” You tried to pet Laura as she wrapped herself around your foot, but she then began avoiding your hand before skittering under the table to settle at his feet.

“Really? I’ve never come across here,” he said as his brows furrowed, but he nodded before going back to his meal.

The rest of the evening was spent cleaning up the events of the day that passed. The current occupants of the house finished the day with reading. Once it was time to retreat into sleep, you were already fast asleep on the chair with your quilt and a book trapped under it with you.

Yeosang saw how shallow your breaths became and how supple your cheeks were when they were pressed against your shoulder that you used as a pillow. He took it as his cue to go to the bed he was given. He went around and snuffed out each flame in every candle with the tips of his fingers. He pretended to ignore the cat as she followed him into the room and slept beside him. He made the effort to try to rest by telling himself that this would probably be the only real rest he would get for the next decade.

The sun brought in the next day and he never remembered falling asleep or waking up. The stiffness in his back made it clear that he did both of those things. He wished that he was not a little disappointed that Laura did not greet him with her morning stare, but he did not take it personally. He simply put on the same shoes and hoped that he would find someone in the kitchen even though there was no noise coming from any part of the house. He made it into the living room and was met with complete stillness and silence. From the window, he could see his horse grazing. Once he made it outside, the sun was shining much brighter than he expected. He had slept longer than he had intended.

It was relieving to see Laura preoccupied with attacking insects, but one more person was missing. Amid his deep thoughts, he petted his horse and scanned around the house for any sign of you getting a task done.

“I suppose you don’t know where she is,” the Prince playfully said to the cat.

Later, a certain beauty walked back to her cottage with a picnic basket of her clothes in one hand and a large bucket of water in the other. You bid good morning to your cat and his horse on your path back inside the house. It was almost as quiet as you left it, but you did hear some movement coming from inside your old room.

He could already tell it was you who came back just by the gentleness of the sound of the footsteps that came inside. The prince already had a book in his hand, trying not to look flush when he saw your head poke into the room.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hello,” he made the effort to remember to smile instead of just staring.

“I’m here to change your bandage.” You came in with a new set of clothes in your hand and the other necessary items to clean up a wound. The various plasters you stuck onto his right temple were already removed the day before, nothing but a faint bruise was left behind. His arm, however, would take a bit longer to heal. As you took off his bandage, you forced your hands to not tremble, repeatedly reminding yourself to only touch where it was necessary despite how tempting the muscles of his arm looked. Once the fabric was completely off, he got to see the injury that was his excuse to extend his vacation. The deep cut started halfway up his forearm and to his upper arm. It was like a dark red serpent permanently etched on his skin. I suppose that does seem pretty bad…

“I think it might scar,” you said as you gently tried to wipe off areas of dried blood.

“I wouldn’t worry,” you heard him say, “… a scar isn’t too hard to get rid of.”

You nodded in hesitation and pretended you could not feel his deep brown eyes staring at you as you worked. “I brought you some water from the stream so you can bathe. You can wear that shirt over there while I clean this one.”

“Thank you, but I’ll heal just the same without you inconveniencing yourself.” His comment was genuine but had a mixture of disappointment.

“Well, it is my responsibility.” You tried not to seem entranced by his starless eyes as you both stopped for a moment to look at each other.

“Why?” he asked. You shrugged your shoulders in response, ignoring the unspoken truth marinating on your tongue. It’s my fault you got hurt.

The afternoon with him in the cottage was slightly more talkative than the days before. He attempted to play with Laura as he pretended to read, skimming the same line over and over and over again. In the moments when he was not too distracted, he watched you complete some more chores around the property with the occasional insistence to help. You begged him to remain rested and even threatened him to sell his horse if he tried to help, but in exchange he let you continue to ask about the capital. His description of the palace brought shame to the books describing the same place. He was surprised at how willing he was to recount the layout of the place he had come to know well. By then, speaking more openly to you was much less difficult than he had expected it to be.

By the time the sunlight took over the country, he was intrigued by how quickly the days were being eaten by the cooperation of the moon and the sun. On his way to return the books that he took, he watched you begin to blow out each candle until the darkness flooded the cottage. Yeosang took the opportunity to retreat into his temporary room, in which Laura was already sleeping at the foot of the bed.

“Yeosang,” you spoke into the darkness. He turned around. You noticed how well his figure fit into the darkness. His ink hair almost blended into the surrounding shadows. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he smiled.

It was a good night. He allowed his bed to swallow him much easier than the nights before, but you took longer to fall asleep.

The very late afternoon the next day was the perfect time to go searching for food in the forest. It was initially meant to be a solo trip, but the not-so-unfamiliar stranger refused to hear your request to rest his arm, tagged along, and promised to only watch. The walk throughout the woods was filled with the sound of shoes crushing leaves and branches accompanied by a pleasant chat. It was a few minutes into your search that she found what they were looking for.

“They’re beautiful!” You smiled and looked back at the tall man to see if he was just as happy as you were. He returned your smile with his own since he was amused by your child-like giddiness.

Without paying caution, she enthusiastically reached for the berries. He reached for your wrist to stop you from hurting yourself, but it was too late. A particular thorn right above the fruit sliced through your flesh much deeper than it would have if she had noticed it. As the thorn ran through your hand, parting skin from one another like a boulder spilling crashing waves in the ocean, blood began rushing out of her open wound. She knew better than to pull back her hand recklessly, knowing it might make the situation worse. He did it for her instead. He carefully took her hand and tried to cover the wound. 

The wound wasn’t terrible or serious in any way, but neither of you acknowledged that as he cradled your hands a mere five minutes later, the two of you sat on the sofa. His hands, though large and masculine, felt surprisingly soft. He wiped the spilt blood clean and carefully placed a plaster over it. Even after successfully treating your small wound, he kept your hand in both of his, looking down at them and absentmindedly brushing his thumb over your knuckles. You didn’t mind one bit. In fact, you’d been yearning to feel his touch more and more as the days passed.

A comfortable silence passed over the two of you, but minutes later a conversation came by naturally. If someone asked you what this conversation was about, you wouldn’t have been able to answer, for you were so comfortable speaking to him that you let down your guard, words flowing freely without a second thought. At some point, the two of you had moved closer. So close that you had lain down while he stayed sat, your legs thrown over his at some point as his hands tapped and caressed your knees.

You talked well into the night. Naturally, you grew tired, your eyelids drooping as you looked up at him, trying your best not to fall asleep. He caught on quickly, a chuckle escaping him as he gave your knee a brief squeeze.

“You’re tired,” he pointed out, “you should sleep.”

In response, you pouted and shook your head. “No, no. I’m fine. Keep talking to me, please.”

His smile softened at your words and did as you asked. The low baritone of his voice did nothing to keep you awake, soothing you further asleep. Minutes later, he thought you’d agree to go to your bed and sleep, but you only whined in your half-asleep state and pulled him down with you, clutching onto his sleeve but still careful not to hurt him.

And so he found himself laying with you on the couch, the two of you squished together on the narrow furniture yet it was still comfortable. You fell asleep much quicker than he did, already prancing around in dreamland by the time he finished manoeuvring the two of you to lay comfortably. Eventually, your gentle breaths against his neck and soft hand on his arm lulled him into a deep sleep.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine Shanks yearning domesticity

Author's note: I head canon that Shanks has ADHD, and sometimes for people with ADHD (and I'm speaking from 20+years of personal experience) have trouble identifying their emotions. And kind of like Luffy, that Shanks is some shade of demisexual and or aromantic.

After a scouting mission

Hongo: hey boss we got a problem.

Shanks: uh oh, what problem is that?

Hongo: we found this at a ship wreck on the other side of the island

Howling Gab: *puts a bassinet on the table in front of Shanks*

Shanks: oh no, we've done this before, and it did not end well. I ended up not getting any sleep for months. Put that thing back where you got it.

Hongo: there were no other survivors from the wreck, and there is no one else on the island. So leaving the child on the island isn't an option.

Shanks: *groans*

Benn: Are you going to be the one to take cared of the little shit?

Hongo: about that *his eyes drift over to you*

Benn and Shanks: *follow his gaze*

Benn: perfect, the rookie'll take care of it.

You: oh no, I didn't sign up to become a nanny.

Shanks: but you're so good at taking care of the rest of us, what's one more? *Picks up the baby wrong*

You: Shanks, you have to support its head! *Repositions the infant on to his shoulder *

Shanks: *shivers at your touch in a way that takes him off guard*

Benn: see, you're a natural.

You: well too bad, it's going to have to stay with you lot while I finish cooking dinner.

Lucky Roux: I can do that for you. *Doesn't wait for your answer, and just removes your apron and places the baby in your hands*

You: this is despotism by the way.

Shanks: probably, but the baby looks comfy

Baby: *fell asleep the moment you wrapped your arms around it*

You: *sighs and looks around for a place to sit down, only for every spot to be taken*

Shanks: *pats his knee in invitation*

You: *sits down across his lap, putting your feet in Benn's lap, and leaning yourself and the baby against his chest*

The crew: *coos at how cute the three of you look*

An hour later

The crew: * left the room to finish their chores*

You: *asleep with your head pressed into the crook of Shank's neck*

Shanks: *stroking the baby's cheek and periodically glancing over at your resting face*

Benn: You three look quite cozy *pulls out his cigarettes*

Shanks: no smoking around the wee one, and I know it won't last.

Benn: I'm sensing a 'but' coming.

Shanks: *shakes his head*, it's just that this feels... right. I almost don't want it to end, but we need to get the baby back to their family or at least somewhere safer than my ship.

Benn: the baby aside, you and (y/n) don't have to end. I know you've known you've had feelings for them for weeks. It's not like you to ruminate for so long, you usually know exactly how you feel.

Shanks: *sighs* this is different, they're different, and it feels like I'm different now too.

Benn: explains a lot about your behavior lately.

Shanks: my behavior?

Benn: you haven't seemed like yourself lately.

Shanks: because I haven't felt like myself for a few weeks. *Tucks a strand of your hair to the side* I have so many doubts and a lot of anxiety with them here. If they'll live to see tomorrow. If they'll get sick and need medication we don't have. If they're safe here, or if they'd be safer hidden away on an island only we know. But despite all of that the thought of them leaving fills me with even more anxiety. Like what would happen if someone showed up to hurt them, and I wasn't there to protect them.

Benn: you're in love dude.

Shanks: nah, I just want them to be around to bring me sweets, or to straighten my outfit before I go out to port. It's not like I want them to kiss me or ... *Looks at your sleeping face*... Oh, dear

Benn: dummy

Shanks: don't you have duties to finish up?

Benn: good night boss.

Shanks: *takes you to sleep in his bed and puts the baby in the bassinet for the night before crawling into bed with you* all of this makes no sense, but for once I don't mind.

List of Up-and-coming works

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[bucca2]

Shrike pt. 1 - words hung above but never would form

definition. male shrikes are known for their habit of catching insects and small vertebrates and impaling them on thorns

König x high school sweetheart reader

2nd person, gender neutral reader for now but reader is afab and referred to as a girl, reader is Austrian/has lived in Austria and speaks German for most of the story, romance, pining, friends to lovers, reader's nickname is Thorn, König's first name is Alexander

4.8k words

tw: bullying, brief mention of cheating and domestic abuse (not explicit, mentions of violence, and not done by König), mention of terrorism, suicidal thoughts

[NEXT]

based on this post by @ceilidho, who gave me permission to write this! many thanks <3

this post is dedicated to @papaver-decervicatus, who I am so proud of for finishing chapter 4 of her fic cat/mouse/den (which I highly recommend) and eating NO glass in the process. her headcanons for König have had a huge influence on me, and while there are some differences between julius and alexander, I absolutely must thank Caedis for her wonderful portrayal of König.

and of course, to @danibee33, for fueling my König brainrot. without you, I probably would not have returned to writing <33

disclaimer, I am not Austrian, I do not speak German, so if there's anything that needs correcting, please do reach out!

You admit, you’ve always had an affinity for protecting the weak.

When you were twelve, a bird slammed headlong into your bedroom window. The poor thing had avoided snapping its own neck but was certainly in no condition to fly. You’d bolted out of your childhood home to check on it, but by the time you arrived, a huge grey tomcat was prowling, sitting back on his haunches and ready to pounce. You generally liked cats, but this one was a mean old stray, and you’d always been frightened to go near him.

Without hesitation, you had shoved the cat aside, spitting and yowling, and taken the little bird into your hands.

It took a few days to nurse back to health, and you still remember the day you released it back into nature. It was worth the long scratch down your arm, pride swelling in your heart as it spread its wings and flew into a vivid blue sky. You remember it even now: a charming little gray bird, a streak of black coloring over its eyes. A shrike, your mother had identified it as.

People are no different than animals, sometimes. People can be cornered, battered, and bruised as well. You recognize the broken hunch of the bird you rescued in the boy sitting by himself at lunch time. His shoulders curl inwards with a desperate need to go unnoticed. You’ve seen him around: he’s not in any of your classes, but your classes always seem to end up in the same hallways, so you pass each other all the time.

He jumps a little as you slide into the seat next to him, shrinking away from you in a way that breaks your heart. “Hey.”

No response. You offer your name, but he seems reluctant to divulge his own.

“Is it okay if I sit here?”

He shrugs.

“Thanks. I don’t know anybody at this school, so it’s nice to have a friend.”

“…friend?” He has a nice voice, you think. Timid, but almost sweet.

“Well, if you’ll let me call you one.”

“…”

And so begins your friendship with König.

I was housed by your warmth Thus transformed By your grounded and giving And darkening scorn

You didn’t call him that in high school, of course. You wouldn’t know that name until much, much later. It takes a while to coax him out of his shell, cajoling him that you can’t call him “green-eyed boy” forever, to get his name.

“Alexander is a very good name,” you assure him, and he seems pleased. He’s still hesitant to speak to you at all, but that’s just fine by you. You’ve got plenty to talk about, anyway.

“You know, I read this book about Alexander the Great. There’s this crazy story about one of his battles at a city called Tyre. He was laying siege to it after a misunderstanding with their king…” you chatter on, unaware of the intense stare from the boy sitting next to you.

“…ordinarily, sieging an island is pretty difficult, but you won’t believe what he did,” you rattle on. “He—”

“He built his own bridge,” Alexander says, so quietly you almost don’t hear him at first. You look at him in surprise.

“Yes! You know this story already?”

“I read a lot about him.”

“Then why did you let me ramble on about it if you knew about it already?” You’re a little embarrassed, having felt proud of yourself for knowing niche facts about historical figures.

“I like listening to you talk.”

That shuts you up for a moment. Only for a moment though, before you start to laugh.

“What?” he asks, an edge creeping into his voice.

“Nothing! It’s just—usually people tell me the opposite,” you say. “People say I talk too much.”

“I don’t mind.” His eyes dart to your face before looking away again.

“That’s good to hear. But I hope you know this means you’re never getting rid of me now,” you tease, nudging him gently.

He doesn’t respond, but for a second, you could have sworn that a corner of his mouth had turned up into a smile.

Learning more about him is like trying to draw blood from a stone, but you do your best. He mentions sharing a room with a cousin. His oma makes the best comfort food. Sometimes his mother takes him into town to buy candy, but he has to hide it or his cousin will steal it. Not that he cares that much—he doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but his family doesn’t come from means, so it means a lot to him whenever his mother spares a few pennies to buy him a frivolity.

It's what he doesn’t say that tells you the most about him. The way he fidgets with his clothes when he’s nervous. The brief panic that shoots through him whenever you call his name before he relaxes when he realizes it’s just you. The way he shies away from people in the hallways, just to avoid any contact whatsoever.

The fact that he never talks about his father.

The way he curls into himself when he’s being bullied.

“You should be apologizing to me for being in my way right about now, freak,” Andreas taunts him. He’s knocked Alexander’s books to the ground, like some sort of cartoon caricature of a bully, and you’re fed up.

“Hey!” Without missing a beat, you slide yourself between Alexander and Andreas. You’ve recently hit a bit of a growth spurt, so you note with a bit of smugness that you’re at least an inch or two taller than Andreas. You’re also quite a bit taller than Alexander, you realize. The two of you are usually sitting when you talk, so you’ve never really noticed.

“Leave him alone!” You stand your ground even as Andreas fixes you with a withering glare.

“Ah, so you’re gonna let your big strong girlfriend fight your fights now, is that it?” Andreas sneers. Alexander stiffens behind you, and you decide right then and there that you’ve had enough of this nonsense.

“You’re the last person who should be bringing up girlfriends, Andreas,” you say, staring him down with a look that you hope is sufficiently intimidating. “Everybody knows Yulia broke up with you because you can’t get it up.” You don’t know Yulia. You don’t give enough of a shit about Andreas to follow the gossip about him. But by the way his cheeks get ruddy, you know you’ve struck a nerve. The handful of spectators your little confrontation has attracted snicker.

“You little bitch,” he snarls. You hear the gasp of the students surrounding you before you feel it. You put a hand to your rapidly reddening cheek.

The little twerp had slapped you.

“That’s what you get for getting in my way,” he says, with a smug little look that you want to wipe off his face.

You’re not a violent person. And honestly, you could have been expelled for what happens next. But you cast a quick glimpse behind you at Alexander on the ground, and something about the look in his eyes reminds you of that bird you rescued, and a quick and hot anger rises in you.

You punch Andreas.

With no wind-up, no warning, you break his nose, and he drops like a rock, howling and clutching at the blood pouring from his nostrils. A sick little giggle comes out of you as you watch, drowned out by the uproar of your little audience.

“What on earth is going on here?!” You hear a teacher roar, and the crowd quickly begins to scatter. Without hesitation, you pull Alexander up and escape before you can be subjected to the consequences of your actions.

“Boy, am I glad he didn’t put up more of a fight,” you say gleefully, high on adrenaline. “That could have gotten quite ugly.”

“I didn’t know you had that in you,” Alexander says when the two of you have gotten far away enough. The way he looks at you now is a little different—almost reverent.

“I didn’t know either!” you say. “I’ve never done that before!”

“Who knew such a pretty rose had such sharp thorns?” he mumbles to himself. Your eyes zip to him, and even he looks surprised at the words coming out of his mouth.

“A pretty rose?” you tease, nudging him on the arm. He flushes pink and turns away, but there’s a bit of a lopsided half-smile on his lips.

You’re not sure why, but the sight of it makes your skin tingle.

The first few years of high school are relatively uneventful outside of skirmishes with Alexander’s various tormentors. Your biggest regret is that you can’t always be there for him—sometimes you have to spend your free periods catching up on readings or speaking with teachers. But you’re always there for him afterwards, poison in your voice as you hatch plans to make his bullies’ lives miserable. The plans never go anywhere, but thinking about retribution always seems to make him perk up a little. And really, that’s all that matters to you.

It's silly, how long it took you to realize how much of a fixture he was in your life. There’s a street corner a few blocks from the school you always meet him at so the two of you can walk the rest of the way together. The few times you share classes, you’re always sitting together, exchanging notes and quietly judging your classmates together. And you always, always sit with him during lunch. Even when you start making other friends who surely would welcome you at their tables, you always return to the quiet green-eyed boy in the corner.

You tell yourself it’s because he’s lonely, and he needs the company. You tell yourself the rumors about the two of you are silly, the result of bored hormonal teenagers who can’t fathom being a genuine friend to someone of the opposite sex. You tell yourself it means nothing that your face feels warm whenever he smiles at you.

You never get the chance to figure out if it does mean anything. He gives you the bad news on the last day of classes before summer break.

“I…I see,” you say, trying to swallow past the lump in your throat. For once, you’re at a loss of what to say. His fingers twist around each other in his lap, the way they only do when he’s really anxious.

“Well, a fresh start is good, right?” You offer him a smile, but your heart’s not in it. Maybe you haven’t spent as much time with him as you used to back in first year—you’ve started to take more advanced classes, and you’ve been so swamped with homework and projects that sometimes hanging out with Alexander is put on the back burner. But you’d always taken comfort in knowing that he would always be there at mealtime. A steady presence in your life, as everything around you seems to be speeding towards a future you’re not quite ready for yet.

Now he’s leaving. You’d like to think your concern is for him—what’s to say his new school won’t also be rife with harassment? Will he be able to make new friends? Or will he be all alone at the lunch table again? But really, who are you trying to fool? The sudden heaviness in your chest is selfish. What are you going to do without him?

The roaring in your head stills as you feel his hand cover yours. You stare at it dumbly, unable to lift your head and look him in the eyes. Your gut feels like it’s flipping and twisting all over itself.

You lift your eyes to his. For one breathless, indescribable moment, you think he’s going to kiss you. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you. You lean closer to him, and you can feel his breath on your lips.

Your eyes slide shut.

A shout startles your eyes back open, and he jolts away from you. It’s your mother, calling that she’s here to pick you up. You let out a frustrated noise as you call back to her that you’re coming before turning back to him.

The moment is long gone, and your heart twinges with regret as he avoids meeting your gaze. “You’ll write to me, won’t you?” you say softly. “And we can still see each other?”

“Of course I will, rosethorn,” he says, with that shy little smile you love so much.

You don’t see him for another ten years.

I couldn't utter my love when it counted I couldn't whisper when you needed it shouted Ah, but I'm singing like a bird 'bout it now

It’s ironic, really. Saving birds. Saving boys. But the one person you can’t save is yourself.

Your life post-König is like the drop on a roller coaster, but with none of the thrill. High school flies by in a flurry of deadlines and mental breakdowns. It’s worth it when you get into a good university—at least, you thought so. In reality, there’s no work in Austria for someone with your degree. Your parents are older, well on their way towards retirement, so you find yourself unwilling to burden them. You’re lost, stuck, and so very alone.

And then you meet him.

Tall, handsome, a little older, with a blossoming career. In hindsight, how much of a perfect package he presented himself as was the earliest red flag. But when you’re young and behind on rent, anything better than that feels like a miracle.

You know better, really. You knew it the whole time. Getting married after knowing each other for 2 months isn’t as bad as it could be, but it’s still too quick for your comfort. But the eviction notice was on your door, and he was a perfect gentleman. What could go wrong, right?

Everything. He at least has the decency to keep up the façade for another month, but that’s the only credit you’ll ever give the man you’ve shackled yourself to. It becomes increasingly obvious that he only married you to have a live-in maid while he philanders around as he pleases. You try, oh god do you try, for five long, fruitless years. God, it’s so silly when you think about it. You liked him so much, it took you so long to realize he had never liked you in the first place. He’d scooped up the first desperate college grad he’d found, and thinking about it makes you want to hide from everyone you know.

Which you do: hiding from what few friends you do have, hiding from your parents, hiding from the part of your brain that screams that you’re wasting the best years of your life cleaning up after a grown man who won’t even touch you, much less fuck you. Your 20s are for drinking, one-night stands, and figuring out what the fuck the rest of your life is going to look like. There is plenty of drinking, but the rest of it, not so much.

You’re going to divorce him, you tell yourself in year six. Once you get a job, you’re out. But you’re no fresh grad anymore, and the 6-year gap in your resume isn’t helping matters. You spot a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel when he tells you you’re moving: his company is offering him a higher paid position, and it’s in a bustling downtown area. Plenty of opportunity for you, right?

That’s when he starts hitting you.

You’re away from your parents, your friends, your home. You took English classes, but that won’t exactly help you in this equally European foreign country whose language you don’t speak. Now that you’re approaching your 30s, your husband seems to be rapidly realizing that his youth is also disappearing. His new job is more stressful, and most days he has no outlet for it other than taking it out on you.

Now you long for the days when he didn’t come home until you’d already fallen asleep.

And then the terror attacks begin, and your once-bustling city shuts down. More isolation. Even less hope. You stay at home all day, torn between hoping someone will get rid of your husband for you and the abject terror of being left all alone in a foreign country torn apart by violent partisans.

That’s when the despair really sets in: you’ve wasted over a decade in this awful, dead-end relationship. Sure, you’ve got a roof over your head and food in your stomach: you should feel grateful. But you don’t.

You start hoping the attacks will take you out instead.

I fled to the city with so much discounted Ah, but I'm flying like a bird to you now Back to the hedgerows where bodies are mounted

“There are mercenaries in town.”

You look up from your breakfast, lost in thought thinking about all the errands you have to run today. “Yeah?”

“About time we stopped relying on our corrupt fucking military,” he grumbles. “Maybe they’ll end this goddamn conflict once and for all.”

You don’t have much to say about that. What does it matter to you, anyway? The only conflict that matters to you lives at home, and you stopped trying to fight it a long time ago.

“The curfew’s a pain in the ass, though. You behave yourself, you hear me?” His sharp glare reminds you that he’s not saying this out of a concern for your safety: if you make trouble for him, you’ll pay for it later. You nod mutely.

Your morning goes by relatively uneventfully. You do the dishes, stare at the wall, sigh, stare at the wall some more. As much of a prison as this apartment is, you like it decently well when he’s not in it. Going outside and seeing the ravages of war all around you is anxiety-inducing. But you can’t put off buying groceries anymore.

The arrival of the mercenaries makes itself immediately apparent. The streets are somehow even emptier, and what people there are on the streets move quickly and cast suspicious glances at everyone else.

You were hoping not to interact with anybody, but your hopes are dashed when you see a checkpoint ahead, manned by soldiers in unfamiliar uniforms. Although most of them are wearing different gear, they still look more orderly and well-kept than the country’s own military. Murder must pay well.

You look around nervously, but there’s no alternate route here, and nobody local going through with you. You strongly consider going home, but you’d just have to do this all over again tomorrow.

You steel yourself with a deep breath.

“Identification?”

You show the mercenary your ID with trembling fingers, gripping your bag tightly and praying he doesn’t find your nervousness suspicious.

“Where are you headed?”

“Just—just down the street,” you say, wincing at your heavy German accent. Years upon years of living here and you still sound like a foreigner. “Getting food.” You’re so anxious you forget the word for “groceries” for a moment. You only know enough of the local language to get by, and you’re sure you must sound like a kindergartener.

The soldier raises an eyebrow at you. “You are German?”

“I…Austrian,” you answer hesitantly. Oh God, you hope there’s no issue with that. You’re not so much afraid of being detained as you are of getting home too late to make dinner.

“Interesting.” The soldier hands back your ID. “Our commander is Austrian, as well.”

You perk up a little bit at that. You’ve met a handful of German-speakers here, but not a single one of your countrymen.

Well. Aside from the one who came here with you.

“He should actually be arriving here any moment now. Big guy in a hood. You can’t miss him. They call him König.” As if on cue, a military grade vehicle pulls up to the checkpoint, military personnel stepping out. And then…

Your blood runs cold.

Nothing, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of the beast that steps out of the car. Even from a short distance, you can tell he’s a colossal size. Two metres tall, easily, wearing a dark hood that reminds you of a medieval executioner. And as if that weren’t intimidating enough, two red trails, like bloody tears, are bleached under his eyes. His eyes, which must have some sort of black paint around them, giving him the impression of being two eyes staring out at you from the pitch blackness of the hood.

Two piercing green eyes.

Trained directly on your face.

Staring in disbelief.

“I…need to return home. I’ve forgotten something.” All worries about appearing suspicious fly out the window as the enormous man in the hood hesitates for a moment before making his way towards you with alarming speed.

You all but fly back down the street, making a beeline for your building. Just a few moments ago, you were excited to meet the man. Now, the image of his eyes staring into yours fills you with a fear you can’t describe.

The next day you take a long detour to avoid the checkpoint. It’ll take you twice as long to get home this time, but it’s worth it. You can’t put the shopping off another day: the brand-new bruise on your arm throbs as a reminder. And you certainly don’t want to run into the hooded soldier again.

You get your shopping done without much fanfare. The old lady cashier, who usually looks at you from over her glasses with the stern look you’ve seen a lot of people around here level at foreigners, even pressed a piece of candy from behind the register into your hand. You’re pretty sure it’s just because she wanted to get rid of it, but it does wonders for your mood.

You’re busy plotting when to enjoy your little treat when you turn a corner and freeze.

He’s here. He’s there, standing in an alleyway near your building. Somehow even larger than you remember him yesterday, still wearing that awful hood.

Does he know where you live? You curse yourself for running straight home yesterday. He must have seen the direction you went in—or did he follow you? You attempt to quietly retreat and take another route home, but your shoe scuffs a paving stone. And like a hawk spotting its prey, his head darts towards you.

You book it.

“Wait!” calls a deep voice. Tears spring to your eyes as you hear heavy footsteps pursuing you. What have you done to deserve this? You’re no criminal. Your only crime is being a naïve dumbass in your twenties.

Your arm burns as you turn corner after corner, not bothering to take note of where you’re going. It’s no use, though: you can hear him gaining on you. Fuck, is this it? You can’t even fathom what he wants you for, and you don’t want to think about it either—

“Rosethorn!” You come to a screeching halt.

There’s only one person who has ever called you that.

You turn around, chest heaving with exertion, as the hooded soldier—König, the soldier said his name was—comes into view, approaching you slowly.

“It’s me,” he says, holding his hands out like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not really sure what the point is, considering the gigantic knife he’s got strapped to his thigh is intimidating all on its own, but somehow it still puts you at ease.

“Alex...?” you whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

“Yes,” he says. His posture has changed from when you saw him at the checkpoint. He’s hunching over, trying to make himself smaller. It reminds you of that first day when you sat next to him at lunch.

It’s him.

You instantly drop all your bags and cling to him in a hug, tears spilling from your eyes. He’s so different: most obviously, he's so tall. He must have hit some growth spurt after he moved away, because he towers over you now. You can feel under all the gear that he’s put on serious muscle—not surprising for a soldier, of course. And when his arms fold themselves over you, you’re filled with a sense of safety you haven’t felt in a long time.

“What are you doing here?” you both ask at the same time. A giggle bubbles out of you as you watch his eyes crinkle in an obvious smile. God, his eyes are so green.

“I’m stationed here because of the conflict,” he says. “But what are you doing here? I contacted your parents, and they said you had moved here, but they didn’t say why.”

You’re not surprised. You’re still in contact with your parents, but you don’t talk about the elephant in your home. You know they would have helped you, if only you had asked for it, but you never have.

“I…it’s complicated,” you say, withdrawing from the hug. You stare at the ground, brushing away the wetness in your eyes.

“I have nothing urgent right now,” he says, staring at you intently.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. “I…got married,” you whisper.

Instantly, his body language changes, stiffening in shock. He takes a half-step away from you, which makes you want to cry all over again. This is awful. This is humiliating. You wish you could go back in time and shake some sense into yourself.

“I see,” he says in a strangled voice. “Congratulations.”

Despite your best efforts, the tears spill over again. “No, not congratulations,” you say. “It—”

It was the worst mistake of your life, you want to say, but you just can’t get the words out. He must notice you beginning to quake with fear, because he raises a hand to touch you gently on the arm—right on the bruise.

His stare hardens as he watches you flinch. “Rosethorn, what’s the matter?”

Everything, you want to say. I’m standing in an alleyway with my childhood crush, shaking like a leaf because a monster lives in my house, and I can’t get away from him.

With a feather-like touch surprising for a man with such large hands—he grew so much— he goes to push up your sleeve. You catch a glimpse of the bruise before you have to turn away again, shuddering. It’s ugly: black and green, and very clearly shaped like a human grip.

“I…bumped into a shelf,” you say lamely. You can’t bring yourself to rope him into your troubles. He’s a soldier now, for Pete’s sake. He has bigger problems.

You can’t read his expression due to the hood—but there’s a blazing anger in his eyes you remember all too well. The quiet fury you often saw in him so many years ago.

He must see in your expression that you don’t want to be questioned about it right now, and thankfully, he relents. With an ease in his movement that must stem from some newfound confidence, he reaches over and picks up your bags for you. “Let me carry these for you.”

It’s nice, to be taken care of for once.

Your mad dash took both of you quite far away from your building, so you have enough time for quite a nice little chat. You tell him about your time in university, he tells you what happened to him after he moved away. He’d jumped at the chance to enlist as soon as he turned 17, on the recommendation of an uncle who had spent time in the military. You laugh when he tells you that they wouldn’t let him be a sniper, a pout in his tone. You could have imagined him as a sniper back in high school, but he’s so large now it’s impossible not to notice him.

“The discipline was good for me,” he recounts. “I needed to grow a spine.”

“Don’t say that. You were just trying to get by in school, like everybody else.”

He shrugs. “I wanted to be like you.”

“Like me?” You ask incredulously.

“My rose with thorns,” he says, with a fondness that makes you blush. “Do you remember that day you punched that punk Andreas?”

“How could I forget? My fist hurt for days,” you say with a grin. “But I didn’t regret it for a second.”

He looks down at you—that’s new—with pride in his eyes. “I thought about you that day all throughout training,” he says. “You were my guardian angel.”

Your cheeks grow even warmer, and you feel like a teenager again. How can he still make you feel this way so easily after all this time? “He had a punchable face,” you say dismissively. “If not me, then it would have been someone else.”

You’re almost disappointed to arrive home. Only yesterday, home was your sanctuary. Now, it means being separated from the one person you trust fully in this country. You turn to him, almost bashful. “This is where I live."

He sets the bags down like they’re made of fine china, and he’s standing so close you almost stop breathing. The air is charged, the same way it felt that night when you almost kissed. You watch him as he watches you.

“Can I see you again?” he asks, breaking the silence.

“Of course,” you say, and the sparkle in his eye dazzles you.

You watch him leave until you can’t see him anymore. And for once, you enter your home with a light heart.

Remember me, love When I'm reborn As the shrike to your sharp And glorious thorn

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just drop a reply! feedback is always appreciated, and my inbox is open, so please feel free to drop me an ask! I will 100% write little scenarios/headcanons about this couple because I have so many thoughts and ideas for them lol

I anticipate about 2-3 parts for this, maybe with König pov in the next part? he doesn't come across this way in this part, because it's from Thorn's perspective, but he is a very nasty boy indeed. also, I know putting lyrics in the middle of a fic is so passé, but I can't help myself. it's hozier! indulge me. also this isn't beta read so I really hope it doesn't suck

[ashxketchum]

New collaboration with Loft & Amnibus was announced for Digimon Adventure!

Details about exact merch will follow soon, but the tweet states that the concept was decided by keeping the idea of 25th Anniversary in focus but the art itself is flower + wedding outfit themed. The collab will start in June which is considered a good month for brides in Japan and so we see many wedding themed anime illustrations get released during this time every year.

Now it is time for another certified Ayushi breakdown 🫡

Taichi and Agumon are seen holding Edelweiss, with a pattern of the flower drawn beautifully on Taichi's shirt as well. Edelweiss in Japanese Language of Flowers (Hanakotoba) is meant to symbolise 'cherished memories/大切な思い出' and 'courage/勇気', while in Western Language of Flowers it's meant to symbolise 'noble courage' and 'daring' - both of which are apt for our best leader 🧡

Yamato and Gabumon are seen holding Alstroemeria (Lily of the Incas, Peruvian Lily), and while the flower motif is not drawn onto his clothes, Yamato's coat's breast pocket is decorated with the flower as well. In Hanakotoba, Alstroemeria is meant to symbolise 'persistence/持続' or 'longing for the future/未来への憧れ', while in Western Language of Flowers it's meant to symbolise 'friendship' and 'devotion'. All meanings are apt for him imo, but especially persistence and longing for the future are very representative of his arc from the first series till Kizuna.

Sora and Piyomon are seen with Pink Carnations, with the neckline of Sora's jumpsuit lined with a bunch of the flowers. I personally love the visual of Sora in this pink jumpsuit, it plays into her slightly tomboyish yet extremely gentle personality so well! In Hanakotoba carnations symbolise 'innocent and deep love/無垢で深い愛' and pink carnations specifically symbolise 'love of a woman/女性の' 'passionate love/熱愛' and "beautiful gesture/美しいしぐさ'. In Western Language of Flowers carnations symbolise 'fascination' and love'. All meanings are pretty accurate for Sora, but red carnations are used to symbolise Mother's love in Japan so it would've been nice if they threw in a mix of red and pink to hint at her relationship with her mother!

Koushiro and Tentomon are seen holding Violet Sage, which at first glance I thought was Lavender. The flower pattern is also visible on his waistcoat and bowtie, which ties together his outfit very nicely! In Hanakotoba, Sage seems to have many symbolisations, 'respect/尊敬', 'wisdom/知恵', 'good home/良い家庭', and 'family love/家族愛'. But Blue (Violet) Sage specifically signify respect and wisdom. In Western Language of Flowers, Sage symbolises 'esteem', 'wisdom' and 'domestic virtue'. Again, a perfect choice for Koushiro, I personally would prefer to believe that they picked this not because of his crest but because of 'good home' and 'family love' since that part of Koushiro's arc in the first series was probably the most impressionable aspect of his character.

Mimi and Palmon are seen holding baby's breath, with Mimi's dress covered in a pattern of it. Even keeping my bias towards Mimi aside, this is possibly one of the prettiest outfit of hers till date, it genuinely looks like she's about to walk down the aisle as a flower girl for a very happy couple! In Hanakotoba, Baby's Breath or Kasumisou, symbolises 'pure heart/清らかな心', 'innocence/無邪気', 'kindness/親切', and 'happiness/幸福'. In Western Language of Flowers it symbolises 'everlasting love', 'purity of heart', and 'innocence'. All meanings apply to Mimi to the T, but they're also very apt for the whole wedding theme of the merch which makes this particular outfit + flower choice my favourite from the lot.

Jou and Gomamon are seen holding Violets or Sumire. I honestly struggled to figure out the flower for a while, at first glance I thought it was Periwinkle but since that was not mentioned in the Hanakotoba reference anywhere, I searched other people's interpretations and settled with Violets. His tie also has a cute pattern of the flower, and it makes me wonder if Koushiro and Jou went shopping for their outfits together! In Hanakotoba, Sumire symbolise 'modesty/謙虚', 'sincerity/誠実', and 'small happiness/小さな幸せ'. Depending on the colour, the symbolism can change in Hanakotoba, and purple Violets specifically represent 'fidelity' along with 'love'. In Western Language of Flowers it symbolises 'modesty' and 'faithfulness'. This is as Jou as a flower can get lol.

Takeru and Patamon are seen with White Gerberas. Like Yamato, Takeru's outfit doesn't have a pattern of the flower, but the Gerberas themselves are pinned to his suspenders. In Hanakotoba, Gerbera symbolises 'hope/希望' and 'always moving forward/常に前進'. White Gerbera specifically are used to symbolise 'hope' and 'honesty/律儀'. In Western Language of Flowers it is meant to symbolise 'cheerfulness' and 'beauty'. All meanings are accurate for Takeru, no comment needed!

Hikari and Tailmon are seen with Sunflowers. I personally feel that Hikari's outfit is a little too much compared to the rest, just the sunflower belt would've been enough but they added that extra line at the hem and it's kind of an overdose. In Hanakotoba, Sunflowers symbolise 'I gaze only at you/私はあなただけを見つめる', 'adoration/愛慕', and 'worship/崇拝'. In Western Language of Flowers, it symbolises 'adoration' and 'false riches'. I understand that they wanted to go with a bright or perky flower for Hikari but something like a Pink Aster which symbolises patience or Cosmos which symbolises harmony, peace etc. might suit Hikari better given the overall theme of the illustration. The only miss in the otherwise perfectly depicted theme and art!