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chronicdisasterwrites · 10 months

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death is pretty but his eyes are prettier

pairing: gojo satoru x reader (gojo’s past arc)

genre + warnings: - blood, injuries, mentions of death, passing out and intestines spilling out of the body (it's a bit gory but nothing crazy), swearing, reader is shorter than satoru but other than that it's gender-neutral (i'm pretty sure), shoko smoking, protective satoru and suguru.

a bit angsty but definitely FLUFF !!

word count: 3,191 (yikes lmao)

authors note: okaaay, so i was inspired by taylor swift saying "you drew stars around my scars", and also i love slow burns and two idiots silently but obviously pining for each other; SO satoru and reader aren't dating here yet. but they very much do like each other.

also apologies in advance if i messed up any location descriptions :')

enjoy this chaos lol <3

I’m an idiot.

The curse was dead. The special grade curse you were assigned to kill was dead and you were almost dead.

As the dissipating remains of the curse mixed with the wind and faded away, you heaved as the blood from the gash across your stomach soaked your dark blue uniform and colored it an even darker shade. Taking a few steps towards the nearest wall, you lean against it, legs buckling and gasping for breath. The light-headedness was growing exponentially and you had to force your eyes to stay open and your legs to stay upright. Blinking rapidly and trying to regain focus, you press one hand to the gaping wound on your abdomen. Red bleeds through your fingers and you feel like you might just pass out. Or die. Or both.

Feeling liquid drip down your chin, you lift your other hand to the right side of your cheek to assess the source of what you assumed had to be blood. Sure enough, your previously bloodless hand was now stained with sticky crimson. Slowly moving your finger on your cheek to figure out where the blood was coming from you felt a sharp pain when your hand made contact with what seemed to be a pretty large cut.

Shit. That’s gonna leave a scar.

Your scythe was broken so you had no weapons to worry about carrying back to Jujutsu High. Sluggishly taking your phone out of your uniform pocket you pray to every force you know to let your phone be okay. The black cracked screen stares back at you and the reflection of your worn out, disappointed, and bloodied face is all you see.

Oh, you have got to be kidding me.

Now the question is whether to go to a hospital and get questioned by non-sorcerers about the horrendous wounds covering your entire body or, to go to Shoko and get patched up and hopefully not get asked too many questions and look like an absolute idiot.

Shoko will ask questions and she’ll obviously be concerned. If Shoko knows, Satoru and Suguru are bound to find out and they won’t be happy with the higher-ups about this… misjudgment.

So, the hospital sounds better. But the nearest hospital is further from my current location than jujutsu high.

Your breathing is getting shallower and your head feels so light you feel like it’ll just fall off. Closing your eyes and taking the deepest breath you could take without feeling like your stomach will tear open from the searing pain, you decide.

Fuck it. Shoko it is.

Pushing yourself off the wall with one hand still clutched to your bleeding stomach you start moving towards Jujutsu High. You control your breathing and use every last bit of cursed energy you have left to staunch the bleeding and somewhat ease your pain. With that, you urge your legs to move as fast as physically possible without breaking down.

---

You don’t know how you made it without bleeding out in the middle of the road, but the gates of Jujutsu High have never looked prettier. But, the sight of the stairs was enough to make bile rise to your throat. Swallowing it down and heaving some more, you make your way up the neverending steps of your inevitable doom.

Upon reaching the final step, your legs give out and you fall, wounded cheek first onto the stoned pavement. The pain was like nothing you’ve ever felt before; shooting upwards to your neurons and all the way down your body, right to the tips of your fingers and toes.

It feels so nice to lie down. No no, get the hell up and go to Shoko. Or all this damn walking would’ve been for absolutely nothing.

Hours was it? Or minutes? You’re not sure but you managed to get back up. After first turning from your side to your back and then bending one leg and then using one hand to help your body up and then finally sitting up. Then at a snail’s pace, managing to stand up on your two feet you start moving towards the morgue, where Shoko spends most of her time anyways. That was your best bet. And if she wasn’t there, well then death seemed like the next best option.

Slugging your way to the morgue, one hand still clutched to your stomach, you aggressively slap your free hand on the doorknob and turn it with your full body weight on the door. The door swings open and unable to keep your balance, you fall again, right cheek hitting the cold floor for the second time that day.

All you remember hearing before your eyes finally shut is the sound of a chair screeching on the floor followed by the sound of rapid footsteps and a string of unintelligible words you assumed belonged to Shoko.

---

Darkness. More darkness. Muted voices. Yelling. Some more darkness. Pain.

When you finally open your eyes, everything is a blur. You blink a few times and look around until your eyes find something to focus on. The white walls, the green curtains, and the smell of antiseptic chemicals all lead you to believe you are in the infirmary. Flexing your hands one, two, three times before slowly lifting your right hand up to gently caress your right cheek, you feel the soft cloth of a bandage taped to your skin. Bringing the same hand down to lay it flat upon the blanket covering your abdomen, you apply the slightest bit of pressure down until you feel a slight prick of pain. Lifting the blanket up you tilt your head down to check the situation. You’re wearing a flowy hospital gown and your stomach looks a bit bulky. Feeling around the wound site you realize there’s a bandage there too. Laying your hand back down by your side, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering how you were even alive.

The creaking of the door opening breaks you from your stupor.

“That was fast. Thought you’d be out for longer,” comes the smooth voice, the smell of cigarettes and that familiar sandalwood sweet perfume you know only belongs to Shoko.

Turning your head to the side you watch her sit down on the chair next to you fiddling with an unlit cigarette and crossing her legs. Her bangs almost cover her left eye and you notice how tired she looks. She sighs and looks at you with a lazy smile, fingers still twirling the cigarette with ease, she asks, “How you feeling?”

You shift and push yourself up to lean your back against the headrest of the bed. With a loud exhale you look back at her with a half-assed smile, “I’m great actually. Good job, doc.” You give her a thumbs up and hope it’ll be enough to squash any more questions she might have.

With her smile still on her face, she looks down at the cigarette and hums, “You know, Gojo was about to unleash hell on the higher-ups for giving you that mission.”

Your smile is immediately replaced with a frown and you feel unbelievably small upon hearing this. With a scowl you ask, “I mean, the mission was a success, wasn’t it?" You shrug, "And I’m fine too so win-win.”

Finally, her smile fades as she stares straight at you; and you think this is the most serious you have ever seen Shoko look, “You could’ve died. That doesn’t seem like “fine” to me. For once I actually agree with Gojo. It wasn’t right of them to assign you on that mission, especially without warning.”

“I’m feeling unbelievably underestimated right now, Shoko,” your voice is small as you fiddle with the seams of the blanket covering the lower half of your body.

Shoko sighs and shakes her head, short hair swishing as she leans forward with her arms on her legs, “I’m not doubting your abilities. No one is doubting your skills. But your wounds were really bad, you know that as well as I do.”

It’s quiet for a bit before you speak again. You look at her downturned head as you reach out your hand to hold hers. Your voice is demure.

“I know. I’m sorry for worrying you, Shoko. But I promise I’m fine. And that’s all thanks to you.” You smile at her as she lifts her head enough to lock her eyes with yours. A smile she doesn’t return but her hand holds yours back and you know she believes you now.

“Yeah well try not to pass out with your intestines all over the floor next time, thanks.”

You laugh. “I promise. I hope you’re joking about the intestines though.”

Shoko huffs a short laugh and lets go of your hand. Bringing the cigarette to her mouth as she stands up she says, “Your cursed energy is the reason that’s a joke. It’s amazing you held out for that long. But don’t get too used to that luck.”

Bringing your hand back to your lap, you watch as she makes her way out and shuts the door.

Immediately after leaving she pokes her head in again and says one thing before leaving again without waiting for your reply, “Please talk to Gojo and Geto. Go now actually.”

You sigh and bring down one foot then the other. The light-headedness returns once you stand up but it’s manageable, so you look around for a change of clothes when you find a new uniform folded neatly on the side table next to your bed.

Changing into the new uniform, you make your way out to look for either Satoru or Suguru or if you’re lucky (more so unlucky) both of them.

---

Jujutsu High really is beautiful this time of the season. The cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the campus looks downright ethereal. You think while walking the halls how this place would feel if it were just an ordinary high school and not a place teaching kids how to wield weapons and slay curses. The classrooms would be filled with boisterous students and teachers talking in the courtyard. Canteens with flirting couples and students playing football outside. The gymnasium would hold basketball games with students wearing the school jersey and cheering for the school team. It would be different. It wouldn’t be Jujutsu High, you think.

“Well well, look who’s up and walking already,” the loud, smug voice you know only belongs to one white-haired, blue-eyed boy.

Stopping in your tracks you turn around and stand face to face with Satoru. You give him a sheepish smile and with the sweetest voice you can muster you say, “Hey there Satoru! I was just looking for you!”

Satoru scoffs and walks closer to you.

"Drop the crap."

Oh shit.

Once close enough to touch you he waits for a few beats staring at your face, eyes locked with yours as he occasionally looks at the bandage on your cheek. He breathes your name.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he seethes.

You groan, exasperated but expecting this reaction.

“I’m okay, Satoru. I don’t get why this is such a big deal honestly.”

You can see his eyes widen behind his sunglasses with pure rage as he scoffs yet again. His voice gets louder and his arms flail around trying to prove his point,

“Oh, you don’t get why this is a big deal? Well for starters, you could have died. You’re a semi-first grade, why the hell would you even accept a job to kill a special grade curse?”

“Okay, I didn’t know it was a special grade. And I killed it, didn’t I? Have some faith in me,” your tone matches his and you glower as you cross your hands across your chest.

He starts pacing back and forth, facepalming himself to oblivion as he goes on a rant,

“Oh my- that’s not the point! It’s not about having faith. You were all messed up and half dead and you could’ve been fully dead and we were almost about to kill those stupid old geezers but then Shoko stopped us and I swear if she didn’t we would’ve actually gone through with it. I mean seriously what the hell-“

You stomp forward mid-rant and grab him by the shoulders, forcing him to stop. Your voice is soft but steady like you’re comforting a child in distress.

“Satoru calm down. I’m okay. The curse is dead. It’s fine. Now please breathe.”

He stares at you through his sunglasses. His chest is heaving and fists are clenched by his sides, not trying to move at all even though he could easily shove you away and continue pacing and ranting.

He dips his head down and exhales deeply, shoulders slanted downwards and breathing slowing down. He moves forward as his arms encircle your body and his head rests on top of yours. Your nose is squished against his chest and you can smell his scent; a mix of sweets, laundry detergent, and his signature scent; the smell of dewdrops and what you assume would probably be some expensive brand of perfume. You relax against him as you breathe him in and your arms move to hug him back. Shifting your head to rest your cheek on his chest you hear his heart beat steadily. You close your eyes and get lost in the feeling of Satoru.

Neither of you say anything, but say everything at the same time. All his thoughts poured into that one hug, and you silently hear them all as you hug him a bit tighter.

You can feel him gulp as his Adam's apple moves against your forehead. His voice is small and honest as he says, “I would kill them all. If you didn’t wake up, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all.”

You know he would, so it’s not really a confession. But it feels like a confession. Satoru would turn the world upside down for the people he loves. You know that too well.

“I know,” your voice is quiet. You feel so safe in Satoru’s arms. You think it’s so embarrassing how safe you feel whenever you’re with him. You feel like a baby; guard down and vulnerable. You’re sure Satoru feels the same way. You’ve never once seen him keep his Infinity on when he’s with you.

He hugs you tighter and you can feel his heart rate quicken. He takes a deep breath and exhales as he lets you go and looks at you. You tilt your head up and try to find those cerulean blues hidden behind the shade of his sunglasses. Lifting your hand up to push his glasses up to his head you finally look right into the swirling blues of his eyes. They’re like the ocean. Calm, but with an unmistakable power surging within them. Like the energy you feel in the water right before a wave is formed, the blues in his eyes seem to pulse and flow with power. But they’re also still and serene, and filled with so much emotion. His eyes hold so much more than just power.

His hand comes up to your bandaged cheek and he slowly takes off one side of the tape and then another until the bandage flaps open. You suddenly feel smaller and even more vulnerable. You haven’t even seen your face with the scar yet (you’re positive there’s a scar). His eyes zone in on the cut as he traces the raised flesh lining the center of your cheek. As his finger runs down the scar, you envision just how large the cut really is; about 3 inches vertical. It didn’t hurt anymore. Shoko really is a fantastic sorcerer, you think. Not moving your eyes from Satoru’s even once, you see the whirlpool of emotions swirl around in those crystal blues. Anger, sadness, worry, relief, adoration, hope.

His jaw clenches as he furrows his brows ever so slightly, fingers moving across your scar with featherlight pressure. Moving his gaze to your eyes, he rests his entire palm against your wounded cheek. Adjusting his hand to hold the side of your face perfectly like two pieces of the same puzzle, his thumb lays on the scar with a gentleness you didn’t know Satoru had.

It’s so quiet, you can hear your heart pounding in your chest. The occasional breeze and the mellow chirping of birds bring you back to the world, otherwise, you’re positive you’d forget all about the outside world and be content standing in the middle of the hall in Jujutsu High wrapped in Gojo Satoru’s arms.

You and Satoru were friends. Of course, you loved him, but that love is no different from the love you have for Shoko and Suguru. They’re your home. You’re a family. You know they love you too.

But right now, it feels different than all the other times Satoru has held you. Held your hand, held your face, hugged you, clumsily threw his lanky arms over your shoulders, ran his fingers through your hair, wiped the blood off your face, flicked you on the forehead, patted you on the head, messed up your hair, rested his head on top of yours. This particular instance feels different. More intimate, perhaps.

Maybe because you really could’ve died. Your life was hanging by a thread and you don’t seem to understand that. You were so prepared to die, that such a close brush with death’s scythe didn’t affect you in the slightest. This job comes with a guarantee of death. Even though that is life in general; being a jujutsu sorcerer means your days are already numbered. Anytime you embark on a mission, your chances of dying are much higher than your chances of survival. So you always went out on the field with the thought of dying. Knowing you could die and leave everything and everyone behind. But this was the first time you felt you were one step through death’s door.

You can feel Satoru’s breath on your face, and you think he might kiss you. You keep one hand on his back as you lift the other to hold his wrist near your jaw. As he leans forward you close your eyes bracing for the kiss to reach your lips. But it doesn’t reach the place you were expecting. Instead, the lightest kiss touches your forehead, almost chaste; as he lingers there for a moment and then moves back.

By now, your heart is racing and you think you’re dreaming. Only when his hands leave you, do you open your eyes and realize this isn’t a dream.

He exhales as he stands straight, with both hands by his side. Bringing his sunglasses back down, perched on the bridge of his nose, he gives you a small smile, “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

You try to mask your stunned expression with a smile and nod.

As he turns to leave he says, “Suguru’s at the gymnasium, probably.”

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “Alright.”

He walks away and you go in the other direction.

part 2

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk angst #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x y/n #suguru geto #shoko ieiri #bruh why am i blushing #reader is kinda nonchalant ngl

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queers-gambit · 8 months

Text

Affirmation King

prompt: ( requested ) attending university as a full-time student is hard, but your boyfriend makes some of the stress worth it.

fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear

word count: 3.1k+

note: author gives unsolicited advice in the form of sharing a citation website to make college essays a little easier! this is not meant as promotion or anything, it's just your author trying to share a resource they know of.

warnings: cursing, small hurt large comfort (reader snaps a little at Carmy but he handles it like a fucking pro), author gives unsolicited college advice in the form of a recommended website, reader is in a masters program and not undergrad, fluff.

The 16 inch screen glared into your retinas, fingers feeling numb from the hours pounding away at the loose keyboard. When the screen started to warble and darken, your head ducked down slightly to try and preserve your visual; glaring up at the offender when they pressed the screen closed after forcing you to retract your hands.

"You're cute and all, but not so cute as to interrupt me like that," you deadpanned, eyes wide and burning from your lack of lubrication via blinking.

"You've been sat here for hours, it's time for a break."

"Funny when I say that to you, it's always, 'Get outta my kitchen.'"

Carmy smirked, "Come eat something."

"Let me finish this essay and - "

"No, it's time for a meal."

You felt your irritation spike, narrowing your eyes slightly, "I'm on a deadline, Carmen, so either be fucking helpful and productive or get the fuck out of my space. I've got work to do and you're just slowing me down."

He offered a patient look, asking, "Is that what you really wanted to say?"

You paused, then shook your head, "No... May I try again?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"I appreciate you trying to... Alleviate some of my stress," you spoke slowly, stringing the sentence together in realtime, "but this project isn't something I can ignore right now, so, I'd like to finish this thing before we do whatever else."

"Better," he teased, knowing you ran a short fuse when stressed out and overworked. "What's got you riled up?"

"I have this 20-page paper due."

"20 pages!?"

"It's not that bad, honestly, once you have your thesis together," you chuckled dryly. "it's just time consuming and meticulous."

He frowned and stepped forward to press a kiss to your forehead, mocking in a sarcastic tone, "You're doing amazing, sweetie."

"I'm so tired," you pouted up at him. "Do I really need this degree? This is so much stress for such a little thing such as a piece of paper that cost me $50k just to say I'm allowed to join the work force."

"Hey, hey," he laughed. "Just remember what you're working towards. You're one assignment closer to your internship turning into a full-time gig, right?"

You nodded, "You're right. I want that job so bad... I just hate how busy I feel - it's like, how can I remember to eat let alone write 6 different response posts to my classmate's work?"

Carmy nodded with empathy, "Just remember that end goal, baby. Keep grinding, keep moving. Almost at the finish line, right?"

"Right," you nodded with a smile. "Thank you, angel face."

Carmy smiled at you before softly asking, "Want me to bring you anything? Something to eat, drink, a condom?"

"Stop quoting Mean Girls at me!"

His hands shot up in defense, deflecting, "I was just trying to be a gracious host. If the missus wants anything, I'll make sure she has it."

"Pretty sure 'missus' is a term used for wives - " His groan made you laugh lightly, then covering, "No, thank you, baby, I'm okay. I should only be about another hour or so...?"

"All right, yeah, sure. I'll start dinner in 30, okay?"

"Sure," you smiled, already distracted again as you lifted your screen again to stare at the Word document that had been haunting your hard-drive for about 3 weeks now.

"Hey," he interrupted, "don't forget your glasses."

"Thank you," you mumbled, reaching for the special, blue-light filtering glasses Carmy had gifted you when you first started your Master's program. He claimed staring at a computer screen was going to cause long-term damage (he read an article) and got you a pair, which, you had to admit, made a huge difference.

Your hair was raked into a new bun as you reread the last of your essay, trying to get back in the academic mindset in order to finish the last bit of your assignment. There were textbooks spewed around your work table; laptop plugged in, highlighters and pens and notebooks within reach and a nearly-finished bottle of water was set to the side. You wrote ferociously once you got back on the right mental track, feeling your headache stir to life as you blindly reached for your water bottle.

However, when you picked it up, you blinked in mild shock when the bottle was heavier than before. Glancing over, you realized Carmy had replaced the bottle because there, under where it had sat, he left you a handwritten note:

replenish what you lost from crying!

You chuckled, knowing you were a stress cryer and when tackling big assignments like this, you were ten times as stressed as usual. Still you worked, even putting your headphones on to play soothing background noise - like rainfall. Your neck cramped, back ached, temples throbbed, and hands were cramping. Still you worked, using sticky notes to flag the important quotes you wanted to use from your textbooks and notebooks. Your stomach growled, your eyes begged for reprieve, chest felt tight, and shoulders were too tense.

Still. You. Worked.

Deadlines were important to you, and while you were a professional procrastinator, you always turned everything in on time - no matter your mental state. You could smell whatever Carmy had started cooking, focused on writing as you only used spellcheck as you went - and still you worked. You knew you surpassed the hour limit you told Carmy, but you couldn't stop, you were so close to finishing, it almost put tears back in your eyes, but this time out of relief. You only paused to look at online sources and apply chapstick, cracking your tightly-wound knuckles, and when you finished the last body paragraph of the essay, grinned to yourself.

All that was left was your conclusion, to create a bibliography, and to edit - but you were almost home free!

Suddenly, you jumped in fright when a hand planted on your shoulder; whipping around to see your boyfriend's own startled expression. "Sorry," Carmy apologized with a wince when you removed your headphones, "didn't mean to scare you, just wanted to check on you."

You nodded, 'Yeah, no, I'm almost done. Like give me 20 minutes, almost done-almost done."

He smiled softly, "Dinner's ready when you are."

"I'll be there soon, thank you, angel face."

"Can I help with anything?"

"Uh," you cocked your head, "you know what? Maaaaybe..."

"Really?" He grinned, perking up. "You never let me help!"

"It's not really work, per se," you amended, "but would you mind letting me read this out loud to you - see if it makes sense? The mark of a good writer is to act as if the audience knows nothing about the subject and make them understand, and you're exactly that."

"Lemme hear it," he nodded, taking a seat, "I might not be much help but I can still try."

You agreed and finished typing the outline of your conclusion, then scrolled to the top of your word document, and explained to him what your class was before starting to read. He listened intently, sitting on a spare stool with his elbows resting on his knees; keeping him leaned forward to provide his undivided attention. You managed to reword a few sentences, only noticing they didn't make sense when you read them out loud. Once or twice, Carmy even offered an alternative phrasing you liked - making the changes and rereading, then continuing through your assignment.

By the end, you were able to beef up the conclusion and Carmy was grinning at you in pride. "That's real good, baby," he complimented, "it all made sense and rolled nice together. I think that has to be an 'A'-worthy paper."

"You should be the one grading theses, my professor's the worst," you frowned. "It's why I got so in my head, I got a fucking 76 on my last essay and need to do really well on the next few to help average my grade."

"What about the tests?"

"We don't have any, this class is all about writing material and turning it in," you pouted.

"Hey," he spoke seriously, making you look at him in question, "I'm really proud of you."

You giggled nervously, "Oh, yeah? Why? What for?"

"For doing this," he nodded to the desk. "Look at all you're doing, baby, there's no way I'd ever be able to keep up with this kinda shit. You're doing such a great fucking job - I want you to remember that. What you're doing ain't easy, but you're handling this like a pro."

"I cry, like, everyday..."

"So what? You still get shit done while emoting - call that multitasking, baby."

"Got me there."

"Seriously, though, you're not told enough what a fantastic job you're doing; how strong and resilient you have to be to deal with this kind of stress day-in and day-out. I see the hard work you put in," he promised, "and I want you to know how fucking proud I am of you. It's all gonna be worth it one day, but until then, I love watching you grind through school. I might not take the classes with you, but I'll help however I can, whenever I can."

"Thank you," you whispered. "It's really nice to hear... I feel myself burning out and it's nice to be reminded that what I do now will influence my future. Validates me in feeling stressed out, you know? Sometimes, I feel silly 'cause, like, there's so many bigger things to be upset about and here I am, stressed out at a place that's guaranteed to stress me out..."

"It's not silly, it's normal. College ain't easy," he reminded, "and you're just trying to keep yourself afloat."

"Yeah, but there's bigger things in life than something trivial as my education."

Carmy scoffed at you, shaking his head, "Ain't no way."

"What?"

"My girl just said her feelings are trivial... Nah, she said her emotions about her education is trivial," he shook his head again. "Should wash your mouth out with soap - talkin' crazy like that. Baby, you know, first and foremost, your education is high on our priorities list, but your emotions? You think they're trivial? Nah, if anything causes you to have any emotion, it's valid - it's not something silly or redundant."

You pouted slightly, "You always know what to say."

"Hungry?"

"You're the perfect man," you laughed, looking at your document again and humming. "Okay, so, lemme just cite my sources and turn this in."

"Then you wanna have date night?" He smirked.

"No, no, I'm so tired - "

"I meant we can stay in."

"Oh, then count me in!"

"Change into something cozy when you're done, we can watch a movie with dinner. Yeah?"

You agreed, accepted his kiss of encouragement, and then took his leave to reheat the dinner that had surely cooled off. It didn't take long to cite everything when you used an online citation source website - that IS N O T plagiarizing! It's a handy-dandy tool you discovered your undergraduate freshman year by an actual professor. It was as simple as choosing which style, APA or MLA, and then to either paste the URL of the website you need sourced or you type in the book's information. Hit the generate button and BAM! A perfect citation for your bibliography every single time.

Or if you didn't like that, you could always just Google citation examples and do your best to write it out yourself. But the website, Citation Machine dot net, was a great tool. After perfecting your in-text citations and saving your work, you uploaded it to your university's assignment portal, crossed the essay off your to-do list, and stretched on your feet.

Cleaning up your space minimally, you hustled to your bedroom to get a quick hot, relieving shower, change, and then met Carmy in the kitchen. "Hey," you sighed with a soft smile.

"Hey, doll. All done?"

"For tonight," you groaned, "but tomorrow's a new day with new assignments."

"That's a future problem we'll handle at a later time," he eased, showing you your dinner plate. "Ta-daaaa!"

You grinned, "Oh, baby, this looks amazing!"

"Yeah, well, I kinda figured as a full-time student right now, nobody was gonna remind you what incredible job you're doing, so, I'm more than happy to step up to the plate. And what better treat than your favorite meal, huh?"

"Thank you," you whispered, pecking his lips.

You often thought his love language was "food", but then you realized it was technically under the acts of service and quality time. He loved cooking for you - it was like a gift. He loved cooking with you - it was time spent bonding. He loved introducing you to new dishes - it's a present! He loved when you let him give you a culinary lesson - it was time well spent.

"C'mon," Carmy lead you to the living room, both crashing on the couch you had been gifted from your grandmother's house when she was put in a nursing home. Normally, you wouldn't have splurged on something like this, but considering it was free, you and Carmy were happy to use it. Settling together on the couch, you got cozy under a shared blanket and Carmy flicked some movie on for background noise, but instead of watching, he just asked you about your coursework.

You told him what you could, shaking your head and huffing about how annoying your program was. How hectic. How jam packed and fast-paced it all seemed to be. How your head felt like it was spinning. How you couldn't nail down workable coping mechanisms and just felt totally out of control. You were spiraling.

You needed this rant session.

Carmy listened intently.

He never once tried to say, "oh, but if you had time management," or anything like, "if you do THIS instead..." or some bullshit, "my way works better." His bright and wide blue eyes watched you the entire time, sighing when you got to the end of your meal and vent session.

"It just feels like, I turn in one assignment, I get three more right after. Turn in those three, and all of a sudden, there's another 10!"

"Does the syllabus say anything about that?" He wondered.

"No, it just said what our reading schedules were and when major assignments are due. But those dates all got shuffled around that it feels like a train wreck. You know, if the original schedule was kept from the syllabus, I wouldn't feel so worked up! It's the rearrangement and added assignments without warning that's throwing me off."

"That doesn't sound easy," he validated. "Anything I can do to help?"

"No, you're doing more than enough," you whispered, pecking his lips. "Thank you for dinner."

"I made dessert, too."

"No!" You gasped with a grin.

"Mhm - wait here. I'll grab it."

"Wow, dinner, movie, and dessert?" You teased, "I'm being spoiled tonight."

"You've been working your ass off for weeks now," he smirked, standing from his seat to pick up your plates, "this is the least I could do. I know I said it, but you know how good a job you're doing, right? Damn, baby," he chuckled, "ain't no way I could ever handle shit like that on the regular."

"I could't do what you do, either."

"We all balance our crazy different. Want some tea? Wine?"

"Tea would be great."

"Comin' up."

When Carmy returned, you pulled the blanket back to let him sit again with the dessert plate between you both; two steaming mugs of tea sat on the coffee table. "What's this?" You wondered, seeing a sort of pastry.

"Marcus told me 'bout this," he chuckled. "Kinda like a poor man's version of this one thing he makes. So, look, it's Pillsbury Crescent Rolls, right? In the middle, there's raspberry preserves - or jam if you want that instead. It's baked then drizzled in melted white chocolate."

"Wow, you got all fancy on me," you beamed.

"Hardly, more like I was a little impulsive after hearing your essay. Figured you could use some dessert - you really earned it, baby. You always earn dessert," he grinned, "but tonight, you were kickass. Know that? Hear me?"

You shook your head, "This is nothing compared - "

"Hey, hey, nah," he interrupted, "nah, nah, don't do that, don't try to invalidate or downplay yourself. Look, shit is always hard in college, right? But you handle it so well, I can see the work you're putting in and the little reward you receive in return, and know that shit's gotta add up for you. But my baby just keeps cool, does her work, and does what she can to earn the grades she does. Right?"

"I mean, I try to..."

"You succeed. C'mon, lemme hear you say it. 'I kick college's ass.'"

"I kick college's ass."

"'I work hard.'"

"Carmy - "

"Saaay it!"

You huffed, "I work hard."

"'I'm an incredible hard worker.'"

"I'm an incredible hard worker."

"'I am only human.'"

Another breath in, repeating, "I am only human."

"'I am a success.'"

"I try to be a success."

"That wasn't the quote."

"Well, I don't know if I'm succeeding because grades aren't finalized yet and I have - "

"No, no, no," he smirked again, "you're still successful 'cause you're doing such a kickass job. You could get a fucking 'D' on something, and guess what? You're still successful 'cause you don't let this tear you down, you learn from mistakes and apply whatever lessons you learn to your upcoming assignments. Some people say you might even learn more from losing and failing than from undisputed success. Look, I'll be honest, I thought my job was hectic as shit, but hearing your essay tonight? Goddamn, you're not just beautiful, but so fucking intelligent, too. Baby, I was shook - that sounded like some academic paper that college kids need to defend their thesis or some shit. Something scholarly, not some assignment you gotta hand in by a deadline so you just wrote down whatever. So, give yourself credit and tell yourself you're a success."

With a long, deep breath, you answered earnestly, "I'm a success."

"Good girl," he muttered, handing you a fork finally. However, unlike Mikey all those years ago, you didn't launch your utensil at anyone and used it to cut off a corner of pastry.

You moaned when you tasted the gooey goodness. You managed through a mouthful, "Mmhhh! Mhm! Mhm! If you make this every time I have some assignment pissing me off and stressing me out, I'm afraid I'll get used to this treatment."

Carmy grinned, "You deserve whatever dessert you want, whenever you want. Huh? Yeah? Lemme hear you say it."

With another grin, you mused, "I deserve whatever I want, when I want it... And however I want it!"

"Atta girl!"

"You're so fucking corny," you laughed lightly, feeling as if you were falling in love with him again, "but thank you, my Affirmation King."

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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

Text

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FIVE

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, harassment/cat calling, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 6.1k+

→ a/n: shout out to @abibliophobiaa for helping me figure this chapter out lol.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

5:00 ───ㅇ─────────────── 24:00

HOUR FIVE - 8:00 PM

Civility. What a fragile construct.

You and Eddie are hyper aware of its presence as the minutes pass. It’s a glass wall between the two of you, offering false security and fragile mediation. When he brings up dinner, and there’s no sign of agreement any time soon as he wants the opposite of every suggestion you make, you catch your reflection in it, reminding yourself to carefully think over your words. Every insult manages to catch in your throat, to simmer until softened to something appropriate. And you know he’s doing exactly the same thing as his pauses begin to drag out between replies, as you lose count of the number of times he’s opened his mouth only to immediately snap it shut.

It works, though. Even with the weight of the agreement in the room, the wall takes the pressure in stride. There’s not a single crack emerging.

Eddie still sits on the couch with you, this time the TV is turned on to some cable show rerun that has turned into background noise for the two of you.

He never moved back to the opposite end of the couch. One wrong move, and your thigh could easily press into his, sink into the warmth that radiates from him. It’s all you can think about as he is trying to convince you that the Lord of the Rings books are worth reading, especially if you enjoy the movies.

If it were any other day, you wouldn’t have noticed when he cuts off suddenly. You would have stopped listening long ago. Which is a shame, not that you’d admit it, because he actually had interesting points to make.

“What?” you scrunch your nose as his stare hardens across the room, at something by the TV. Suddenly, the almost-glare blooms into delight, and you can’t breathe.

“We’ve managed to be civil for a whole forty-five minutes.”

You finally follow his gaze and realize he had been looking at the small cable box, blinking blue numbers on the front screen reading the time.

“Oh,” you say softly, fighting a grin to match his current one, “Yeah, we have been. That’s gotta be a new record.”

It hadn’t been easy, but it had been doable. Maybe the hours could continue to be less doable.

“You know, I thought you would have told me to shut up about my nerd shit by now,” he muses, bringing a hand up to carefully rub at his stubbled chin, legs spreading a bit further as he remains reclined into the cushions beside you.

His knee brushes yours. You still haven’t found your breath that had escaped you from watching his eyes light up in realization.

“I came pretty close,” you tease and nearly lean in, nearly pressing your knee harder into his.

It was becoming too easy to act this way with him. You try to think of a time you’d ever given this such room to breathe. But you draw nothing but blanks, save for the first night you’d met Eddie. A night that had been blossoming with buds of hopefulness and blind optimism that had been cursed to die on the vine.

Although, maybe not all of them had died. There might have been a few dwindlers, and they might have found themselves finally watered after such a harsh winter between the two of you in the revelation of fragile civility these last forty-five minutes.

“Was it when I went on my ten minute rant about how cool it would have been to bring up werewolves in the movies? Or was it my passion for Samwise being a singer?” your head falls back in gentle laughter, closing your eyes for a second. He goes as far as to nudge your shoulder with his own, “Come on, I’m serious! I do hear myself sometimes, you know. I know when I’m being Lord of the Dorks over here.”

Your shoulder burns where he had bumped it. Not from pain.

Your eyes are still closed as you shake your head, “No, no. I think I actually agree with the werewolves, but I’m still on the fence about turning the movies into musicals.”

When you finally do open your eyes, head rolling to face him and press your cheek atop your burning shoulder, you find him staring at you. Which would have been fine, no big deal, if he was still grinning vibrantly.

He’s looking at you with an unfamiliar emotion, an emotion you’d not only never seen him look at you with, but any of your shared friends. It’s almost as if he’s no longer in the room with you.

You’re immediately worried you’ve offended him, “Oh, shit. Are you into musicals? I’m sorry, I tried to get into them, but I just-”

“I am,” the emotion drains from his eyes as he snaps back to reality, “I… But I mean, I get it. Not everyone is into musicals, I was just a theater kid.”

“A theater kid?” your worry is long gone as you sit up, looking at him excitedly, “No way. I would have never guessed that you, Eddie Munson, the most dramatic person I know, were a theater kid.”

He looks down bashfully, and his curls form a curtain around his face. His dimples are effectively hidden as he shyly smiles, and you’re kind of glad for it. “Shut up. Buckley’s more dramatic than I am. Have you ever heard her go off on one of her rabies rambles?”

“Of course. She was also a theater kid.”

“Oh, trust me - I know. We’ve bonded.”

The conversation dwindles, but the ghost of the dimples don’t. He tucks some of the stray strands of the curtain behind his ear, and you start to regret ever noticing the damn things.

“We never decided on dinner, you know,” you blurt out and change the topic, because you desperately need something to distract you right now. You’re starting to believe you might prefer arguing with him to whatever storm was building beneath the surface of civility.

“Oh, shit,” he gasps, turning to look at the clock again, “You’re right.”

Never thought I’d hear you saying that to me of all people, you bite back from saying.

“Most places are closing soon,” he murmurs, more to himself than you, surely thinking back on the way you couldn’t come to an agreement earlier. If you dived back into that, you’d probably spend the rest of the night bickering. But then he lights up again, just as he had when he’d realized your record-breaking streak of civility, “Say, you like bar food?”

—

“Eddie, I really can’t afford overpriced bar food!”

“And I already said I’d pay for you.”

“What about our photo proof? We were supposed to send it ten minutes ago.”

“You texted them mentioning we’ll be a little late with it, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then it’s fine.”

The entire ten minute walk from Eddie’s apartment to what he claims is his favorite bar in town had been filled with the endless bickering, still managing to be lighthearted enough to not cause any cracks in the civility.

He’d chastised you about making excuses, and you hated him, because he was right. Every issue you’d brought up about going to the bar with him had been easily solved with one of his solutions. You were grasping for straws at this point.

Because you were nervous. Nervous that civility wouldn’t hold up in public, nervous that if alcohol was added to the equation that tongues would get too loose.

But none of it mattered. When Eddie initially suggested going to the bar, he’d caught your smile at the idea and realized you two had finally found common ground. He was now a man on a mission.

“I really don’t want you paying for me,” you huff as he holds the door to the bar open for you, motioning for you to enter before him.

“It’s really not that expensive, you can pay me back later if you really want,” he waves off, “Buy me a drink or something while we’re here, even.”

You’d always witnessed Eddie being generous with your friends, always known that he was altruistic as he’d offer to pay for people. Half the time, he never made them pay him back. All he cared about when with friends was everyone having fun. And you’d never been on the receiving end of that — not until tonight.

He bumps into you when you stop just a few steps into the bar’s entry, glancing around the small room. It wasn’t much, two pool tables set up on the far end of the building, a full bar taking up most of the space inside. You could see some sort of jukebox sitting unplugged in the corner and several booths were occupied with patrons already.

It was cozy. It wasn’t going out of its way to impress anyone, and it’s probably why you’d never come inside before. From the outside, you hardly were able to decipher it was a bar, especially in the darkness of the night.

“Sorry,” you turn to apologize, his hands feather light on your biceps to make sure you didn’t stumble from the force of his impact.

He waves it off just as he had waved off your concerns of him picking up the bill for the night, focusing instead on your reaction, “You like it?”

“It’s… nice,” you offer with a shrug as he guides you to the bar. There definitely weren’t any open tables; it was a Saturday night, and even if the place was capable of giving off quaint vibes, there was an abundance of college students who had the same idea as you and him had.

None of them were locked into the same agreement as you two, though. You were sure of it.

The bartender greets Eddie by name, beaming as he promises he’ll come over with his usual soon.

“Wow,” you laugh, lifting yourself onto a stool beside him, “You weren’t kidding about it being your usual hangout.”

“I swear I’m not an alcoholic or anything,” he rushes out, “I just… I dunno. Like you said, it’s nice here.”

You couldn’t believe it. If you dared to look into his words further, you’d swear that Eddie was trying to avoid tarnishing your view of him. He’d never cared about that before.

“I wouldn’t judge you,” you say once the two of you have settled into your seats. Stools were never going to be more comfortable than a booth, but it would do for the next hour. “If you were an alcoholic. I mean, we’re college students. Kind of part of the whole gig,” He looks at you and quirks an eyebrow as he grabs one of the menus from the sticky wood surface in front of you two, “Every college student can be promised three things: unimaginable debt for a stupid piece of paper, the ability to run off of far less sleep than anyone ever should, and a terrible reliance on alcohol.”

He rolls his eyes and mumbles, “You’re funny.”

The surviving buds on the vine nearly prepare to bloom, just about ready to untuck themselves from your chest and press against the glass wall of civility.

“Say it again.”

“What?”

“That I’m funny,” your biting grin is infectious, “Tell me again and stroke my ego, big boy.”

He flushes pink on the apples of his cheeks, bright and furious even under the dim lighting of the bar, “Oh, fuck off. I’m never complimenting you again.”

Your newest enemies, those fucking dimples, and the way the blush spreads as he glances down at the menu suddenly become too much. The combination has the ability to choke you, to possibly make your heart stop, if it isn’t for the bartender finally interrupting the moment.

“Hey there, Eds,” the man not much older than the two of you greets, looking at you with unbridled curiosity, “And… lady friend of Eds.”

You don’t know why, but you tell the stranger your name. Sweet and low, soft spoken compared to the way you had just been blatantly teasing the boy at your side.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he chimes with the type of charisma you’re familiar with when it comes to the food industry. You didn’t make tips if you weren’t kind, if you weren’t borderline flirting with nearly every customer by overflowing with friendliness and compliments, “So, I’ve got your regular here,” he places a glass in front of Eddie, something dark with a few sparse bubbles, “What can I get for you, though?” he turns to you.

You glance over at the menu Eddie holds, and he shifts it so you can see it better. But as your eyes glance over the drink options, nothing grabs your attention.

“Full bar, right?” you feel a bit foolish as the man waves behind at the large wall filled with bottles of a variety of alcohol. Duh. “You know how to make an amaretto sour?”

The man grins widely, nodding enthusiastically before turning to Eddie, “She’s got good taste. I’ll be right back with it for you, hun.”

The moment the bartender leaves, Eddie is leaning in closer to you, mimicking you in a falsetto, “Full bar, right?”

His cologne is nice. Something spicy, almost musky. Fitting for him.

You don’t hesitate to shove his shoulder, “Shut up. We’re supposed to be civil, remember?”

“Ah, I see,” his eyes mischievously glint, enjoying this bout of satirizing far too much, “You can tease me, but I can’t tease you. That sound about right?”

“Exactly,” you sigh jokingly, unable to look at him, already knowing the smile he’s wearing, “Sorry you didn’t get the first memo.”

He finally, finally, stops leaning in towards you, and carries the scent of his cologne with him. You decide to lock away that detail of him into the same eternal prison of your brain with the dimples. Another thing about him you need to forget after the twenty fours end.

“My bad, sweetheart. At least I’m up to date now.”

You ignore the vine as it tightens at the casual use of the nickname again. There’s no need to dive deeper into that reaction.

“What’s his name?” you finally look at him, eyes catching on the slope of his nose and sharp jaw in the smoky atmosphere.

“Who? The bartender?” you nod, and he takes a sip of his drink, “Frank. He’s really nice, looks a lot younger than he is, lucky bastard.”

“What, you don’t think you’ll age so gracefully?” you’re back to teasing Eddie, because God, is it easy. It’s a perfect medium between the two of you. Still biting, still a little mean, but not harmful. It’s innocent and refreshing, breathing a new wave of novelty into your relationship, wherever it may currently stand.

“Who’s not aging gracefully?” The bartender, Frank, questions as he places your amaretto sour in front of you. You mutter your thanks, “Because if you’re talking about Eds here, you’re right. Think this guy has aged ten years in the six months I’ve known him.”

Six months? You don’t know why you’re so shocked, but part of you had just figured he’d been coming to this bar for as long as he’d lived in his apartment. Which, to be fair, you didn’t know how long he’d occupied that space, either. It had to have been at least a year. There’s been no mention of him moving the entire time you’ve known him.

“I have not,” Eddie defends himself, hand gripping his drink.

“Have too,” Frank ends the argument there, not giving Eddie a chance for rebuttal before he lets his gaze go back and forth between the two of you, “So, any food tonight, or just drinks?”

“Could we actually get an order of garlic parmesan fries?” Eddie is surprisingly polite, and looks at you after he’s placed the order, “If that’s okay with you?”

You blink, taken back by his consideration, “Um, yeah. That sounds good.”

Frank nods, “Fries. Got it. Anything else?”

Eddie is still looking at you, subtly moving the menu closer to you, as if urging you to help yourself. You pick up the laminated paper, and your knuckles brush against his before you’re glancing over your options.

You curse yourself as your hands shake. You’re not nervous – why are they shaking?

“Are your mozzarella sticks any good?” you finally ask, peering up at Frank.

“They’re excellent. Also, not to brag, but our marinara is the best in town. I swear it.”

You look to Eddie, as if seeking out permission, and he nods ever so slightly, “I’ll take your word for it. One order of those, please.”

“Of course. One order of fries and one order of mozzarella sticks coming right up.”

With that, Frank leaves you and Eddie on your own again, somehow feeling secluded and alone even on the edges of the bustling room. It’s as if there’s a bubble around the two of you, unbreachable by the strangers that surround you.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket catches your attention, just as it had done numerous times thus far this night, and you pull it out to see two new notifications from Steve.

STEVE-O: photo.

STEVE-O: now.

You don’t realize Eddie was reading the messages over your shoulder until he suddenly chuckles, “Jesus, when did Harrington become so demanding?”

“He’s always been this way,” you mutter as you quickly open your phone, the camera app already being opened from your previously provided evidence, “Consider yourself lucky to not be in the groupchat. His attitude grows tenfold through texts.”

“Clearly.”

You turn the phone awkwardly in one hand, choosing to go for a wider shot that captures the bar setting behind you and Eddie. He grabs his glass, holding up his drink as if he’s cheersing the camera.

You’re about to take the photo, when Eddie suddenly sighs, “Oh, come on. Don’t leave me hanging.”

His free hand nudges your own drink into your hand, and you take it without complaint.

You both hold up your glasses, forcing mimicry of annoyed expressions directed at the camera and not each other.

The moment the click of the photo being taken is lost into the atmosphere of the bar, chatter of nearby strangers and clinking of beer bottles together, Eddie’s attention is fully on you.

“To civility,” he says, moving his glass in a grandiose gesture towards yours.

You take a second before you register it. You’re too busy mapping out his face beyond the dimples, beyond the wild curls that catch the bar lighting just right, all the way up to the hiding freckle beneath his right eye and the cotton candy shade of pink of his pursed lips. It’s as if you’re pressing your cheeks into the wall of civility between you and letting the glass fog over with your breath. As if you’re just now seeing Eddie for the first time, no cloak of hatred or distortion of annoyance to keep you from his memorizing features.

You shake your head, try to physically rid your head of the uncharted thoughts before you clink your glass to his, “To civility.”

—

Maybe civility isn’t such a fragile concept. Maybe, just maybe, it’s a reasonable foundation for yours and Eddie’s night.

Over garlic parmesan fries and mozzarella sticks, and several refills of your amaretto sour and his Jack & Coke (you’d found that out when you’d ask to try his drink, and had grimaced at the harsh whiskey), you two practice the act of it almost flawlessly.

Eddie tells you a bit more about the first time he’d wandered across this bar, how he’d been kicked out of a different one earlier that night and simply wasn’t ready to go home yet. Somehow, after the story, once he’s shed his leather jacket to drape over the back of his seat and you find yourself angling your body towards him more fully, the attention focuses more on you meeting the group.

You both have to lean in closer to each other, what at the beginning of the night should have been too close for comfort, as the bar grows busier. You tell him about freshman year of college, that wretched 8 AM math class that’s only redeeming quality was bringing you and Steve together. He was better at math than you, or at least taking notes on the subject. Somehow, the two of you had ended up in an agreement of being ‘study buddies’, as Steve had nicknamed it. Two years later, after several more deliberately shared classes, Steve had finally decided to introduce the girl he’d been ditching their Thursday movie nights for to the gang. It had started with Robin – she’d been in a Psychology class with you and Steve – and all the pieces fell together from there.

“I still can’t believe you and Harrington never… you know….” Eddie trails off and downs the last of his third Jack & Coke. When Frank motions from across the bar if he’d like a refill, Eddie shakes his head and covers the top of his glass with his wide palm.

His rings glinted in the low lights, and your stomach did flips. You blame it on the fourth amaretto sour you were nursing.

“Oh, trust me,” the alcohol has your lips moving more loosely, giggling between your words, “We definitely thought about it. Even got wine drunk one night our sophomore year and tried it.”

“What?” Eddie exclaims, leaning so far into your space now that his curls brush your bare shoulders, “No way. No fucking way.”

“Yes way!” your face grows pink, more from laughter than embarrassment, “It was awful! I mean, in our defense we were both drunk, but still. I just…” you sigh out, and lean back in your stool without even noticing that Eddie has his arm draped over the back of it, “We both realized we were way better off friends. I’m a better wing-woman for him now than some fling.”

“Don’t let Robin hear you,” Eddie chuckles, popping a fry in his mouth before he relaxes back as well. His arm is still on the back of your chair. “You know, he did talk you up a lot before he introduced you to everyone.”

“Yeah?” you raise an eyebrow.

Eddie’s brows furrow as he nods viciously, “Oh, God, yeah. Had us all thinking he was just in denial about having a thing for you.”

“Well, that’s embarrassing.”

“Nah. Only good things. Besides, once Robin met you? It was game over,” if you had been watching Eddie more carefully, you would have seen that unrecognizable emotion crossing his face once more, glazing over his eyes rather than the alcohol he’d consumed, “They really do love you, y’know?”

You don’t know. Which is a shame. Because on your good days, you’d usually tell yourself that they do enjoy your company, that you do fit into the group. But doubt had an easy job of having its way with you when Eddie existed, when Eddie seemingly loathes you.

Your silence answers his rhetorical-turned-serious question, and he’s suddenly leaning forward to catch your gaze, “You do know that… right?”

Your shrug makes his arm fall off of your chair, not intentionally so. It had simply gotten closer to your shoulders with the time passing, and the movement makes it fall limply to his side.

“Sweetheart, you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Eddie groans in what you’re realizing is his usual, playful demeanor, “The entire group loves you so much, it’s irritating. Never shut up about you, inviting you to plans, all that shit.”

“You don’t,” your voice is a whisper.

It’s the first time that either of you had so much as knocked on the glass wall of civility. A gentle tap of your knuckles against an easily forgotten barrier, but a knock nonetheless.

“What?” Eddie squints, and he’s leaning in closer, and you suddenly feel suffocated again. His cologne is in your nose, his faded dimples are in your vision. You could count his eyelashes if you spared him a quick glance.

But you don’t. You can’t bear to look at him, because the entire moment is becoming far too vulnerable.

You clear your throat, “The entire group, except you, loves me. Which, I mean, I get. Not everyone is going to like me, and I’ve sort of been a bitch to you-”

“You haven’t-”

“-and honestly, I’ve really played into the fact that I annoy you so much this entire time. You hate me, I hate you-”

“I don’t-”

“-it’s fine.”

Despite Eddie’s attempted interruptions, you manage to finish your speech, chest heaving by the end of it. He’s stunned, mouth opening and closing multiple times before he finally seemingly collects his thoughts.

“Look, I know I’ve been an asshole, but I don’t really-” he starts, but you’re quick to cut him off. Unlike when he’d interjected and you’d ignored him, he lets you speak.

“Eddie, you said you’d celebrate my death,” you smile sheepishly at him, and you can feel that glass barrier shaking. Bringing up something awful, something terribly mean from mere hours ago isn’t a gentle knock on glass. It’s a slapping of a palm, a dare for cracks to start appearing.

His entire expression falls, “I… That was stupid of me to say.”

“It was,” you agree, because you’re not sure what else you could say, “It was, but I get it. The feeling’s mutual and all, right?”

Eddie is quiet. You almost miss his voice, even with all the other tones of strangers bouncing around you.

“Can I ask why you hate me, though?” you try to keep your tone as light as possible, to not let this moment get any worse. You try to keep your fists from pounding on the glass of civility, “We’ve never really talked about it before. I know you have your reasons – I’ve got mine.”

His jaw clenches. You can physically see his thought process. He’s probably got a million reasons, and right now, he’s just thumbing through them, trying to find the one that won’t break your agreement of being kinder to each other.

“You…” he starts, and the wheels are still turning in his head, eyes looking everywhere but you now, “I don’t know, you just seemed… s-selfish.”

You almost don’t see it – the first crack in the glass, the first sign of civility crumbling.

“Selfish?” you echo back, crestfallen, nearly wounded. You attempt to hide it, to not show him that his words affect you, because you’d asked for this. You’d asked the damn question, fueled by liquid confidence, and he was giving it to you.

“Yeah, just… Full of yourself?” his voice jumps up an octave at the end of his sentence, as if he’s unsure, as if he’s asking you if that’s the right answer. The crack spreads, and begins to distort your vision of him, “I knew you had been sort of popular in high school, and you carried yourself like those popular kids I knew. And… and…”

His eyes finally stop fleeting from yours. He meets your gaze, and you know you weren’t equipped with strong enough armor to hide the wounds he was inflicting. He could see the bruises as his hits landed, accidental or not.

“I just thought you were everything I’d always hated. So I hated you.”

The crack splinters, and hairline fractures split the image of Eddie into unrecognizable pieces. The boy you’d grown accustomed to thus far tonight, the boy you’d grown comfortable with, is gone in your eyes.

“So,” your voice is tight, and you know you won’t be able to keep up with eye contact, not when it all starts to sting so ardently, “You judged a book by its cover, and decided I’m a royal, spoiled bitch. Isn’t that exactly what everyone in high school did to you?”

“How did you-”

“Steve told me. He told me about your reputation, about being a freak, everything.”

The splintering has spread to his side of the glass, clearly, as you say the word freak.

“Is that why you hate me?” his tone hardens, gaze no longer sympathetic. Not that you see the change. “You decided I’m a freak, too?”

“I never said that-”

“No? Sorry, I thought we were just putting words into each other’s mouths.”

The bar is busy, and you wonder if the bystanders can hear the wall of civility finally shattering. You have no idea if any of the shards hit Eddie, but you can feel them dig into your chest, your arms, your stomach. Shards that remind you of what could have been.

Shards that remind you of what was lost because Eddie Munson had decided he hated you long before he met you.

“You’re the one who hated me before you even met me,” you scoff cruelly.

“I never fucking said that-”

“You did, though,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, “You said so yourself. Steve mentioned I was sort of popular in high school, and you just- you just decided to shove me into a box of what I would be. Some girl you didn’t even know.”

“Well, pardon me,” he snaps, “I didn’t exactly have the best experience with the popular kids, but you should know that since Stevie told you everything, right? Hell, he probably mentioned it over pillowtalk for your one night together, right?”

You were an idiot. You had let yourself forget that Eddie is not normally kind, that Eddie is not normally so trustworthy as he’s been the last hour. You’d let your guard down, and now, the ramifications were staring you down right between the eyes.

“Fuck you,” you angrily spit, moving to stand up, “I told you that in fucking confidence, because I thought… I thought…”

“You thought..?” he presses as you turn to face him, shorter than him now that you weren’t both sitting in the stools, “What? That we were friends?”

Yes. Because for a moment, I thought we were becoming friends, like a fucking idiot.

His chest is heaving now. Just as yours had during your rant to him, your attempt to soothe over the fact that he hated you. You regret it. You regret ever agreeing on civility.

“My mistake,” you choke out, “It won’t happen again.”

You’ve caught him off guard. Maybe he had been prepared for you to deny it, maybe he had thought you’d laugh in his face at the idea of you considering him a friend.

But you hadn’t. You’d just confirmed to him that you did have that moment of weakness. You’d admitted that yes, for a vulnerable moment, you’d considered him a friend. A confidant over sweetened alcohol, cheap bar food, and trust.

He’d had your trust, and he’d now lost it.

You don’t wait around to see how he takes the revelation. You’re already storming out the front door of the bar, grateful you can still remember which direction his apartment is in. You don’t care if he’s following you – part of you hopes he isn’t.

Until part of you is. Because as you step out into the night, a few shadows against the brickwall are brought to life by your appearance.

“Hey there,” one of the men call out, “What’s a girl like you doing all alone?”

You don’t process that the man is talking to you at first, head down and anger flaming.

“Hey, you!” There’s a sudden hand on your shoulder, making you jolt your head up, “Yeah, you. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out here alone?”

His grin is sinister. Sickly sweet in faux honey, blonde hair swept back and breath reeking of rum.

“M-Me?” you stutter, trying to take a careful step back, to get his hand off your shoulder.

Your heart is no longer racing with fury. It’s pounding with fear.

“Does it look like there’s any other pretty girls out here?” he slurs with a chuckle, glancing around to his friends.

You look around as well, and realize with sinking trepidation that there’s no one else out here, “No. But, uh, I’m good. I.. I’m not… interest-”

“What’s your name, honey?” he leans in closer, and you can’t help but lean back. It makes his grip on you tighten. “I’m Jason. Are you all alone? Because, I’ll be honest, I’ve been striking out all night and would love to take a pretty thing like you home with me.”

“I’m g-good,” you start again, “Please, uh, please let go-” you're shaking your head, trying harder to pull off his hand.

“Oh, come on. It’d be fu-”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. One second, he’s pressing too close to you, holding you tight enough to leave bruises as you’re cringing and suddenly squirming to get out of his grasp, and the next – he’s gone.

“Get the fuck off her.”

You’re still too shocked to move, glancing down at your shoulder that’s now red and sore. But you know that voice.

It’s the voice that had just told you he’d hated you before he ever met you.

“Hey, man!” The intruder, Jason, protests as he’s shoved harshly against the wall. “What the fuck?”

You finally look to see what’s happening properly. Eddie isn’t facing you, his broad back and shoulders appearing menacing in the shadows as Jason sinks further back against the wall.

“She’s not going home with you.”

His tone doesn’t waver, even as you catch the clench of his shaking fist.

Jason catches sight of you, still standing where he left you, and the nauseating smirk returns, “I think we should let her decide, shouldn’t we?”

You see Eddie move to raise his fist, and your body finally unfreezes. In an instant, you’re at his side, and your hand wraps around his bicep to prevent the punch he was surely pretending to send Jason’s way.

“Eddie,” you plead, tugging him backwards, anger momentarily forgotten. He doesn’t look at you, but he immediately takes the arm in your hold and wraps it around you in order to tuck you further behind his body, away from the wide, drunken stares of these men. You hate it, but it makes you feel safer, even as you grip the leather of his jacket’s sleeve tighter, “Eddie, please, let’s go.”

“So she’s spoken for?” Jason pushes his luck, still slurring his words.

Eddie’s fist clenches again. Without thinking, your hand not on his arm reaches down to grasp his fist.

Your heart's still pounding. You’re still trembling, shaken up terribly – he can feel it.

“Please,” you beg one last time.

This time, he listens. The fist unravels, and in an instant, he has your hand locked in his, palm against sweaty palm.

He’s not as rough as you expect him to be as he’s dragging you away from the scene. You can still hear the cat-calls, the taunts, of the drunken men, but it only spurs Eddie to walk faster. You struggle to keep up, his long legs carrying him more easily through the long strides, but you don’t protest, eager to get away from whatever the fuck just happens.

Neither of you say another word during the walk to his apartment. Your shoulder continues to ache, your hand stays tangled in his, and you can still feel the prick of civility’s shards in your chest, lodged dangerously close to your vines and closing buds of hopefulness.

Civility. What a broken construct.

–

BIRDIE: they are literally on a date right now.

JOHNNY: I’m not doing this right now.

DINGUS: god, i hate to admit it, but rob’s right. are they at a bar right now? am i seeing that right?

BIRDIE: yes!! i called it!! i fucking called it!!! god, only five hours in and they’re already on their first date.

ARGYLE 😎: love is in the air my dudes

JOHNNY: @ARGYLE 😎Don’t encourage them.

NANCE: It is NOT their first date. Eddie wouldn’t take her to a bar for their first date.

BIRDIE: hold on, how would you know what eddie would do for their first date?

NANCE: He’d probably take her somewhere nice, like whatever this town’s equivalent of Enzo’s.

DINGUS: when the fuck has eddie talked about where he’d take her for the first date?

BIRDIE: nancy what the fuck do you know?

JOHNNY: Lol

NANCE: Forget I said anything.

BIRDIE: nancy, please explain yourself immediately.

DINGUS: nance? when? the? fuck?

NANCE: He was drunk, he probably didn’t mean it.

BIRDIE: NANCY.

JOHNNY: Now you’ve done it.

DINGUS: NANCY.

ARGYLE 😎: does this mean what i think it means?

BIRDIE: NANCE.

JOHNNY: Just couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?

NANCE has left the groupchat.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #twenty four hours

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takes1 · 4 days

Note

HI I LOVE UR WRITING

can i req a fic for iwa :000 maybe reader comes w him to the gym and he can clearly see her blushing at him workin out n his body 😔 the rest can be up to u :))

iwaizumi hajime x reader mutual gym thirst

hi!!! thank you so much!! really liked this idea :) i used his timeskip interest to help with some structure here, but i hope i got enough right!

warnings. sfw-ish, thirsty info. iwa's hot bod / charged staring / mutual crushing / questionable touching / will-they-won't-they kinda vibe / oikawa being a nuisance / oikawa moving things along / athletic!reader / injured!reader / 1.4k words haikyuu collection. more here! more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

You never once thought of what your school gym's layout could really do for you before this afternoon.

There was absolutely no reason to, until a certain tall, dark, and handsome brute took a liking to the power rack in front of the treadmill you were tied to for the next half-hour.

Part of your training plan required 40 monotonous minutes of incline walking- so a longer variation of the tried-and-true 12-3-30 became your new ritual after your team's practice. Shin splits weren't going to go away on their own, after all.

So, you and your defective shins were already married to this spot. When he walked his beefy ass to a spot so ideal for watching, you couldn't help but feel a little creepy.

This light dusting of shame didn't stop your eyes from wandering, though. You were too tired from a long practice and longer physical therapy to truly keep your gaze glued to the numbers on the screen.

That near-pornographic muscle-tee he wore at least twice a week was in rotation today.

It was soaked through; light blue now dark, from the cardio that he just finished outside with his partner and current spotter.

"Come ooon, you can get that up," Oikawa smirked, knowing damn well he needed to help Iwa get the bar racked.

He laughed at his friend's shaky struggle, himself even surprised when the bar slammed against the metal holds.

"Fucking prick," Iwa grumbled with very little air in his lungs.

The dark tone on his tongue raised your brow. You looked at the ceiling with a big exhale to get the thoughts out of your head.

This crush was much more manageable when it was confined to passing glances in the hall.

He was panting as he sat up. You looked back down just in time to watch him remove his useless, sticky shirt.

Sure, the hip-deep slits down the sides didn't leave so much to the imagination, but this was still so much better.

You bit the inside of your cheek and squeezed your eyes shut to keep from making any ridiculous faces, but the image of his bouncy chest and twitchy, heavy biceps were burned into your eyelids.

They had to switch out the weight between turns, so when he took the side of the rack closest to you, you were able to stare at his working back muscles without any repercussions. It was akin to crashing ocean waves between his shoulder blades. He set a plate gently onto the floor.

His skin glistened in the moody lighting. The veins in forearms were plump with effort.

"You feeling okay, (Y/n)?"

Oikawa gave an all-too-knowing grin at you when you locked eyes with him.

Heat crept up your neck- as if you needed to feel any hotter- and horribly embarrassed, you couldn't craft a response to his smartass comment.

Thankfully, Iwa glanced back at your downcast expression and scoffed at his friend.

"They're out on injury right now. Chill out, dude," Iwa came to your rescue, thankfully mistaken to the nature of his remark.

Oikawa looked frustrated that his jab didn't land the way he wanted it to.

You stuck your tongue out at him when Iwa wasn't looking and got one right back.

Now that you were under suspicion, you had more motivation to not stare at him anymore. It just wasn't worth getting found out.

This aversion to looking in their direction allowed the more lively of the two to whisper something with a smirk without you catching him.

Only five minutes remained on your screen when Oikawa climbed up onto the treadmill next to yours, despite the four empty ones further away.

An eye roll. You swiped the sweat off of your face and flicked it at him.

He didn't even get the chance to say anything snarky before Iwa noticed his absence.

"Stop being an ass," He grumbled.

"I didn't say anything!"

He wiped down of the rest of the bench, grabbed his shirt, and stood between the two treadmills. He motioned between you.

"You're being obnoxious," Iwa asserted, "Go somewhere else."

He sure as Hell wasn't happy about it, but he gave in to his friend's wishes. This would be interesting enough without him needing to interfere-- he kept a watchful, cheeky eye on both of you from across the gym.

"So, they got you doin' this," He put his hand on the side of the machine, brow furrowed in concern, "God, isn't that a bit much?"

There was no way you could speak to him without ending this. You pressed stop on your workout, thankful to be done with a good enough excuse.

You set your hands on your hips and tried to get your breathing back to normal. Your shins were burning.

"I hope not," You shrugged and wiped the sweat off of your face with the collar of your shirt.

He rested the side of his face on his slick forearm and looked you up and down.

You tensed at the motion and looked to the side.

"Can I take a look?"

A strong twitch of embarrassed confusion on your face forced him to clarify immediately:

"Your legs- I mean," He laughed.

You knew he would assist the head PT every other day for injured student athletes that came through the training room. It was a way for him to get some experience in before he went for a degree.

It just so happened that it never aligned with your schedule, so even though he knew you had become a regular, he never got to assess you.

You tried not to limp on the way across the gym.

"Jesus..." He muttered as you sat your leg onto his lap, "Yeah, that's... fucked."

The little stretching corner was otherwise unoccupied, but you couldn't help but feel like your proximity was too much. Your head was craned around to make sure there were no teachers or staff around to yell at you- but flipped back around with small yelp at his hand.

You laughed and flinched away at his cold fingers, "Thanks."

He didn't react to you.

"I mean, like..."

Iwa was completely taken by how swollen your lower legs had gotten, he wasn't even finishing his sentences. His concentration was super cute. A little concerning, but cute.

He walked you through some new stretches that the head PT didn't care to show you; the more he informed you about the nature of your pain, the less you were trusting the old fellow that you had been seeing.

He supported you as you attempted a tough stretch and quickly reassured you to not push it. You let up as he suggested, hands trembling against his forearms.

"Juuust like that, yeah," He said gently next to your head.

Your face lit up and stopped, too embarrassed to keep this going. Maybe you did prefer that old, crusty, trained professional over him.

Concerned, he ducked to look at your expression, but you quickly evaded.

"Did that hurt too bad?" He asked.

You deliberated on lying but decided against it.

When you glanced back up at him and shook your head, he had a smile on his face that you couldn't quite rationalize.

The focus on 'strengthening' your shins seemed to Iwa like it was just making the issue worse. He recommended resting as much as possible.

His touch and his attentive gaze helped you manage the discomfort you felt going through the motions. He was always waiting for your reaction, gauging how he needed to shift you based on your facial expressions.

"Let me get you some ice," He snapped a couple times, deep in thought, "I wanna try that new wrap, too--,"

He jogged off into the clinic's room and flipped on the light.

In the mirror-wall you caught a glimpse of Oikawa at the free weights. He started blowing kisses in your direction and only stopped when Iwa hurried back out.

"Y'know, I can always make some extra time to check on this after practice."

Your expression softened.

Iwa knelt down next to you. He scanned the damage carefully before sitting, and took one leg into his lap again.

"I couldn't let you do that," You sighed and seethed at the contact.

There wasn't much more room to be gentle, so you just had to endure.

He layered everything slowly, firmly but not too tight, and would take the time to fix the stretchy tape if it got twisted. The actual therapist never spent this much time on you like this.

"Well," Iwa prodded at his finished work, "You can just... give me your number, and we can work something out?"

It may have been the ice, but the chills that ran up your spine were difficult to hide.

"Sure," You smiled.

It felt like you were agreeing to something a little less medical in nature.

He helped you to a stand and supported you for a few seconds too long.

"Sweet," Brushed off his lips in a consumed sigh.

masterlist.

requests/submissions: open

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jeonginsleftcheek · 4 days

Text

Cupid's Shot🩷

pairing: lee felix x reader

genre: fluff, angst, slow burn

word count: 10.4k

description: what happens when Cupid breaks the rules and falls in love with a mortal?

warning/s: there are suggestive parts so mdni! not proofread!

a/n: here i go again with another felix fic and i'm really proud of it, except i feel like the ending is rushed but i had to write it twice cause i accidentally didn't save it the first time jddkdll

but anyways there will be a second part to this, with smut. it will be a continuation on this main fic but could also be read as its own thing.

please reblog if you like it!🩷

Their purpose is simple: bring two destined souls together by helping them get rid of their fears and insecurities, assist them to find the happiness they deserve, the love they would nurture with their soul mate.

Contrary to popular belief and the information in many books, there isn't only one Cupid, there is a whole nation of them, living in another realm, invisible to the eyes of the mortals, but they can see everything. Including the mortals auras, souls and their destined lovers.

The only rule they have to abide by is to not fall in love with a mortal. None of them really questioned it, they're just beings of light, existing to fulfill their purpose, until they disperse into little particles of shiny dust, disappearing into The Great Source Of Light.

They would get their assigned charges and do everything they can to cross them off the list after they manage to finally match them with their loved one.

Felix often wondered about a lot of things, like why was he born a Cupid, was he even born and where he actually came from if he wasn't. He wondered what The Great Source Of Light actually is and where it would take him after he fulfilled his duties. He wondered why wasn't he allowed to fall in love when love was so soft, warm and fuzzy. Wasn't love the ultimate goal? Was this some kind of punishment because of what he did in a past life; to be a mere messenger of love but never be able to experience it?

Ofcourse, he never dared to say anything like that out loud for the fear of what would happen if he did. He's never actually seen any punishments or violence happening in his little world, everything was cheerful and perfect, the Cupids worked and flew around with blushing cheeks and smiles painted on their faces; never complaining, never tiring. But he didn't want to risk it, or seem like he is defying the natural order of things, he is only curious.

Felix gets a scroll with names of his new charges, and he opens up the paper. Scanning over the names as they shine in a white-ish glow off the paper, something calls to him. His eyes flick around until they land on your name. Something inside him blooms, chimes and explodes in little fireworks. He chants your name in his head. It's time to find you. His eyes close and he focuses on your aura. Mixes of purples and blues swirl behind his closed eyelids and he can feel it closer, smell the sweet flowery scent with a hint of petrichor in it.

He opens his eyes and he's transported, his eyes meeting yours but ofcourse you don't see him. Your chin is resting on your palms, elbows perched on the table as you stare a hole into the computer screen in front of you. Felix quickly takes note of the surroundings, the clacking sounds, telephones ringing and chatter in the distance. He's in an office building, and you're sitting in your cubicle, your hair neatly tied and face devoid of any emotions. But he can see your aura, it's swirling and wilding around your frame, painting pretty designs around you. He thinks he's never seen something as beautiful as you are.

"Y/n!"- someone slams a stack of papers on your desk, startling both you and your Cupid, making him float back a little as he observes you.

"These papers need to be finished today."- the woman says, a malicious undertone in her voice.

"B-but it's almost six. I've worked overtime and-"

"It's not my fault you're slow. Next time work during lunch."- the woman turns around, leaving like it's none of her business.

Felix sees you immediately slump in your chair, the pretty blues and purples of your aura dimming down a little as you grip the papers and start going through them. Cupids weren't supposed to feel bad feelings like anger or envy or anything of that sort but Felix somehow felt annoyed at the woman, and moreover he felt bad for you. He wished he could help you get home faster somehow, but he knows he shouldn't meddle into anything except your soul mate.

Speaking of soul mates, as soon as Felix came down from his realm to yours, he couldn't feel another soul that's supposed to be binded to you. That was unusual but not impossible, sometimes charges had their hearts closed off and the Cupids had to try and open up their hearts first before actually connecting them with love.

He dismissed it for now and focused on you, trying to send you a lovely boost of energy so you don't feel too bad. You were tired and stressed, sick od being mistreated at work, seen as less than. There is a lump forming in your throat and tears threating to spill down your cheeks as you keep working. Suddenly, you feel relief, like someone untied the knot inside your chest and you take a deep breath in and somehow feel more energetic to keep working.

It's already past 9pm when you're done and you're beyond exhausted. All you want right now is a nice shower, a warm bowl of noodles and your bed. Felix observes as you tidy your desk and he follows you when you leave the building to your car. The walk through the empty dark parking lot is eerie and Felix can sense the fear creeping up inside you so he floats a little closer to you, his pink soft wings almost touching you. Not that you would feel it even if they did.

Your apartment is small, but it's cozy and clean and it smells like you, like your aura. It makes Felix's senses fuzzy, something he never experienced before. He looks around the living room full of plants you obviously love taking care of, pictures of you and your friends and family, little knick knacks you collect. He does a full turn and comes face to face with you, in your bra and he panics and scrambles away, almost flying into your lamp. The lamp swings ever so slightly and Felix is not sure how his wings have effect on anything physical in this world because they usually don't. He turns away from you giving you your privacy, waiting for you to leave to the bathroom.

When you do, he slowly flies back closer to the lamp and tries to touch it but his hand goes right through it. It was nothing, he sighs, relief washing over him. He keeps looking around, gathering information about his charge so he knows how to help you open up your heart and find love. Some kind of weird feeling washes over him shortly but he shakes it off. You come out of the bathroom, thankfully in your pjs which look adorable on you, Felix thinks as he smiles and watches you.

After your quiet dinner, you get ready for sleep and crawl into your bed, finally relieved to be in your safe space where no one can harm you. Felix ofcourse doesn't want to intrude and be around while you sleep, at least not yet, not when it's to early to enter your dreams. He turns around to fly out, back to his realm but a sniffle stops him. He stays still and listens, another sniffle coming from under your blanket.

A pang hits his chest when he realizes you're crying. He turns back to you and floats closer, the closer he gets, the more pain in his chest he feels. Why is it like this? Felix has always felt emotions of his charges to a certain degree but never this intense. It's almost unbearable to him and he struggles to come closer to you. He tries anyways, shining a little light he made inside his palms to look at you, but you're in the dark and can't see it. But he sees you and you look completely shattered as tears stream down your cheeks, eyes already red from crying. Your lips quiver, your aura fades more into gray and Felix feels what you feel.

He feels used and abandoned, ridiculed and lonely, unloveable. The feelings are so strong that they force him back away from you, tossing him into the wardrobe behind him, making the door rattle. You gasp and scramble into a sitting position, turning on the lamp beside your bed as fast as you can. You swallow in sudden fear as you look around but nothing's there. Felix is still, he's looking at you and he feels so bad that he scared you, especially while you were in a vunerable state. He still has no idea how he managed to make the door rattle or the lamp swing but that scares him too even though he didn't even feel any pain from the impact.

You shake your head and lay back down, turning the lamp off and wiping your tears away. Felix slowly floats towards the window, cautious not to touch or knock anything down. He looks at you one more time before he shimmers himself back into his realm.

"Have you ever moved a physical item in the earth realm?"- Felix whispers to his coworker and friend, Hyunjin, one of the Cupids he was close to.

"What?"- Hyunjin looks at him, his pink lips pouty and eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"Like... like have you ever accidentally made a lamp swing or a door rattle?"- he tries again and Hyunjin chuckles at his friend.

"Did you hit your head somewhere, Lix? We literally can't touch anything, we're not made from the same stuff earth beings and their things are made of."- Hyunjin says, closing his scroll and looking at Felix again.

"Yeah, yeah I know. It was just a stupid question."- Felix says quickly.

"Are you sure?"- Hyunjin squints his eyes at him.

"Yeah, positive. Don't worry about it."- Felix smiles in hopes to get the other Cupid to not ask any further questions since Cupids weren't really capable of lying.

"Eh, alright."- Hyunjin shrugs, opening up his scroll again and Felix sighs in relief. His friend was never one to pry information out of someone or ask incessant questions, which in this moment Felix is thankful for.

He's more than excited to see you again today, hoping you feel better than you did yesterday. He concentrates on your soul and aura, seeking you amongst the 8 billion souls on earth. As soon as he senses you he's transported into... the office bathroom? He's about to fly out because this is a breach of privacy but then he hears a familiar sniffle. There's no way you're crying in the office bathroom stall, is there? Felix slowly floats, looking for the source of the sound until he stops in front of the last door. He inhales and pushes himself through it, his eyes shut tightly. He slowly opens his eyes and squints, praying that you're not in some kind of compromising position.

You're not, you're just sitting on the closed toilet, your face in your hands and you're crying. Felix feels it again, the negative feelings drowning you in sorrow, one especially prominent. You feel excluded, invisible. Unimportant. Cupids don't really have a reason to cry usually, but Felix can feel your pain deeply with all of his being and his eyes water, golden sparkly tears sliding down his freckled cheeks. He reaches his hand towards you, trying to channel anything good through it, simultaneously fighting the bad feelings pushing him away. He knows he's not supposed to touch you or transfer any kind of light into you unless it's a dire soulmate situation but at this moment he doesn't care. He just doesn't want you to feel so sad and hurt so much. He places his palm on the top of your head, gently sliding it towards the back of your head and your head snaps up, your hand touching your hair where he just touched you.

Felix backs away immediately, pulling his hand to his chest as he panics, his big doe eyes wide as you look around in confusion. How did you feel that? You were only supposed to feel the light energy, but you actually felt his touch. Felix panics more when you reach towards him and he floats back out of the stall. Turns out you were just reaching for the door as you swung them open and hurried towards the sink.

Felix's heart beats hard in his chest, a strong fuzzy feeling shimmering in his insides, so dizzying to him that he doesn't even realize he floated right next to you. He gasps and looks at you but luckily you don't see him, you just splashed your face with water and you're looking at your reflection. He wonders what's happening to him, because a charge never made him feel like this nor did they feel him as you apparently did. He didn't even know who to ask about these things, and his friend Hyunjin seemed to know as much if not less than he does.

Felix throws that in the back of his mind for now, his main concern being; what or who made you cry at work? He follows you back to your cubicle and notices a few people gathered around another woman in the office, they're talking and throwing glances at you. Felix floats closer to listen in, even though he shouldn't really be doing that.

"Wow, Natasha, that ring really is beautiful."- one of the woman gushes as she speaks to the so called Natasha.

"I'm glad you're doing a bachelorette party."- one of them squeals.

"And I'm glad you didn't invite that weirdo. She seriously gives me the creeps."- another woman says, and Felix quickly realizes they're talking about you.

"Ugh, who cares about her. Let's talk about the party."- Natasha waves her hand and Felix feels something boiling in his blood, something he never felt before. Something that scares him and makes him wish he could do bad things to anyone who hurts you or makes you cry, but it quickly dissipates when he looks at your face. You look so dejected and he doesn't want you to think you're alone. He flies back to your cubicle and settles right next to you. And you're boiling. With sadness, anger and hurt, you're on the verge of exploding. Felix feels the push you're involuntarily making, pushing him and essentially pushing love away from you. Your aura is in the darker hues of blue and purple, swirling angrily. You stand up and as much as Felix wants you to stand up for yourself, he feels that you're not in the right state of mind and you might get yourself in trouble.

He quickly stands behind you, his hands hovering above your shoulders, scared now to actually touch you so you don't get spooked. He only hovers his hands above, as close to your skin as he can and sends some soothing light energy into your tense muscles. You relax visibly, the feelings of anger subsiding a little. You shake your head and sit down, deciding to ignore the bitches in your office because who really gives a damn about Natasha's wedding? You for sure don't so you go back to your work and Felix sighs behind you.

As you did yesterday, you continue working late into the night, leaving the building last again, crossing the creepy parking lot to your car and Felix follows closely like he did the day before. There's something different about your aura after that bout of anger you had in the office, something wilder brewing inside you. Felix can feel it and for some reason he doesn't recognize the feeling and he's left confused the whole way home as you drive, your hands gripping the wheel harshly.

You're calmer when you walk into your apartment and you do your nightly routine just like you did yesterday while Felix observes you patiently. You take a shower, he waits in the living room, he joins you for dinner and waits for you again in your room while you get ready for bed.

You lay down in your bed and the unfamiliar feeling that floated through you earlier is back. Felix struggles with it, he can't really comprehend the swirling he feels in his gut and he can't wrap his head around it being either a good or a bad feeling. He should leave but his curiosity gets the best of him, especially when you start making noises. Are you crying again?, Felix thinks and floats closer to you slowly only to realize in shock and horror that you're touching yourself.

He gasps, that feeling deep inside him stronger the closer he is to you and he feels like his insides are throbbing. Cupids don't exactly have a body they can touch but they know what sex is, after all that's part of relationships and love. And they also know they shouldn't be intruding on a private moment like this so Felix floats away towards the door, ignoring the fuzziness blurring his senses and vision. He tries to float through the door, the physical barriers never stopping him before, but his forehead collides hard with the door causing him to fall down on his butt, and he groans in pain. Pain? Since when do Cupids feel physical pain from impact like that?, he panics, his hand coming up to rub at his forehead.

"What the hell?"- he hears you say as you sit up and turn your lamp on, your eyes trained on the door. Felix guesses he made a lot of noise, again, and startled you, again.

"If there's a ghost in here now, you're sick!"- you yell out into the room and Felix looks up at you but luckily you don't seem to see him.

"Ugh, ghosts are scary."- he shivers, muttering to himself. You don't hear him, you sigh and lay back down, leaving the lamp on and opting to grab your phone. You open up Instagram, the mood you were in gone now.

Felix lifts up, dusting off the imaginary speckles of dust and glances at you again, feeling embarassed about this whole situation. He's confused about the door and how you managed to hear him smack into it. There's only one person he could ask about these happenings, and he's beyond nervous because of that.

"Hey Lix, how's it going?"- Changbin, one of the more experienced Cupids greets Felix as he makes his way to the Elders. Specifically, one he wants to talk to. Minho. For some reason, everyone is scared of him and there are rumours going around, rumours Felix doesn't even wanna think about because he gets scared easily.

"I- I need to talk to Minho."- Felix gulps and Changbin's smile falters.

"Oh? What for?"- he asks.

"It's personal. About my charge."- Felix answers.

"Ah, you got a tough one? Probably doesn't want to open their heart up for love, hm?"- Changbin wears a small smirk on his face as he plays around with the scroll he holds in his hands.

"Something like that, yeah."- Felix answers.

"You summoned me?"- there's a voice behind Felix and he shivers and turns around quickly, only to be greeted by a very pretty being, one that has sharp eyes and facial features but somehow there is softness underneath all that.

"Y-yes I did. I'm Felix."

"I know who you are. Tell me what you need."- the Elder called Minho talks calmly.

Felix turns to Changbin and he understands and shimmers away from them.

"Well, something weird is happening with my charge."- Felix says, clearing his throat.

"Weird how?"- Minho asks, the white light shining around him almost blinding Felix.

"I can feel her feelings, emotional and physical ones very strongly. So strongly that they managed to hurl me into her wardrobe and... and the door made noise. And then last night... I tried to float through her bedroom door and I banged my head into it."- Felix explains and he gets quieter and quieter as he talks, looking at Minho's face. The expressions Minho made during Felix's speech looked like he went through the five stages of grief in a few seconds.

"Has she heard you or seen you yet?"- Minho asks sternly and Felix is now scared for real.

"Yet? No, I mean no, she didn't. But she felt my touch. At least I think she did."- he mutters the last part.

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, a long sigh coming out of his mouth.

"Someone screwed up. Again."- he says, annoyed.

"W-what do you mean?"- Felix feels like he's about to cry.

"Okay listen, just keep watching over your charge like you normally would. Create a link with her and infiltrate her dreams, fill them up with love. I'll talk to the others and we'll see what we can do. You just keep doing what you're doing. And don't be scared."- Minho places his hand on Felix's shoulder gently, in hopes of calming the young Cupid down. But nothing about Felix is calm in this moment.

It must be something big if Minho didn't tell him what's happening and he's asking to meet the other Elders. Something seriously bad is happening and Felix can't help but panic. In that moment of distress, he suddenly yearns to be by your side, the sweet scent of your aura, of you enveloping him and caressing him from the inside out. Felix opens his eyes and he's transported into your room. He didn't mean to do that and it startles him, he merely had a thought about you and he was suddenly there.

It's morning in the earth realm, way past your time to go to work but you're still in bed. It must be your day off or the weekend, Felix reckons. He hovers over your sleeping form and looks at you. Your aura is peaceful right now, the blues and purples leaning more to the pastel hues, and a slight silver shimmer between them swirling and dancing slowly. You must be having a good dream, Felix thinks as he smiles and reaches his hand towards you. He knows he shouldn't but he can't help himself. His palm rests on your cheek, and a buzzing feeling goes through him. A feeling he knows too well.

He gasps, retracting his hand as you stir in your sleep. Did you feel it too? His touch? The buzzing, the one that Felix always feels when a charges soulmate is near by. He couldn't believe it, he suddenly felt the other soul binded to you. But it was weird, like it's so close, almost like it's part of him. Something washes over him, a kind of melancholy and he doesn't know what to do with it. Sparkly tears brim at his eyes for a reason unknown to him and you're finally awake.

Your eyes flutter open and you stare straight at Felix, your sleep covered eyes boring into his wide ones. You freeze and he freezes too, his brain short-circuiting at the moment.

"What in the-" - you start and he shimmers away as fast as he can. There's no way. There's no freaking way you just saw him. He hopes he was fast enough so you'd think you were still dreaming. He shimmers back into his realm and accidentally bumps into Hyunjin hard, throwing him off balance.

"Woah! Felix?"- Hyunjin looks at him wide-eyed. "How did you do that?"- he asks.

"Do what?"- Felix's panic spreads wider inside him.

"You pushed me. How did you push me?"- Hyunjin looks confused.

"I- I don't know. I can't explain it right now, I just need to talk to Minho."

"You can't. The Elders are having a meeting. It's something serious by the look of it. Even The Great Source Of Light is attending the meeting. You know it's something bad when they're there."- his fellow Cupid explains.

"Oh my god!"- Felix cries, tears streaming down his cheeks and his friend gasps.

"Oh! You're crying! Why are you crying?"- Hyunjin flails both his arms and wings. He's never seen his fellow Cupids cry like this, especially not the always smiling Felix.

"I can't tell you. I need to go!"- Felix shuts his eyes tightly, concentrating on you again. He hears Hyunjin shouting his name, but it's too late, Felix is transported into your apartment again.

Only this time, it's the living room and you're sitting on the couch, talking to someone on the phone.

"I'm telling you it looked real. He was like some kind of angel. But like Barbie pink version."- you say and Felix accidentally chuckles. He covers his mouth fast but you didn't seem to hear him behind you. He slowly circles the couch to stand in front of you but you look through him.

"Well alright then my dreams are vivid as always. He was kinda cute tho."- you giggle and Felix feels warmness spreading in his face and chest.

"Sure, sure I need to get laid. According to you."- you laugh into the speaker, playing with the hem of your shirt, your legs tucked under one of the decorative pillows on your couch.

"Okay, let me know when you find a normal one."- you chuckle again. "I'll see you soon then. Bye!"

You hang up and shake your head, thinking to yourself that you've really gone mad if you started hallucinating like that. You get up and make your way to your room and Felix follows behind you silently, his senses buzzing again. You open up your closet and start sifting through your dresses. Felix heats up when he realizes you're about to undress. He turns around fast, closing his eyes, trying to be respectful even though there's a strong pull inside him telling him to just turn back around to face you. But he fights it and stays with his back turned to you.

When he's sure you're dressed he whips back around and his eyes land on you, dressed in a pretty dress and checking yourself in the mirror.

"Oh."- Felix gasps, his chest fluttering. He's never seen you dressed like that and his senses start buzzing even more. He's dizzy suddenly so he moves away from you, into the living room. He doesn't want to risk bumping into something or you seeing him again even though he has no idea what actually triggered that.

You finish getting ready and head out, Felix floating behind you. It's a beautiful sunny day and you walk to the park near your house, where your best friend waits for you.

"Y/n!"- Jisung waves at you, getting up from the bench he was sitting on and opening up his arms.

"Sungie!"- you yell back and close the distance, returning the hug.

Felix's lips fall open, and he feels something stirring inside him, something kind of uncomfortable at the sight of you hugging another man like that. You and Jisung part and start walking down the path together. Felix hurries up behind you, trying to put his hand on Jisung's shoulder so he can feel his soul. Jisung's aura is invisible to Felix, since he's not his charge but he can still 'read' his soul only if he manages to make the connection.

"So, how did your date go?"- you ask your friend.

"Which date? The one on Wednesday or the one last night?"- he smirks and you chuckle, smacking his arm and unkowingly startling your Cupid.

"Which ever one was better... or more eventful."- you wiggle your eyebrows.

"Honestly, they were both a snooze. This guy last night almost bored me to death. I'm beginning to think I'll never find my soulmate."- Jisung sighs. Felix's hand is almost on his shoulder.

"Aww, don't say that. I believe that you of all people will actually find your soulmate."- you say.

"I don't see it, unless Cupid personally comes down to earth and finds someone for me."- Jisung jokes and Felix freezes and retracts his hand.

Why did he say that? Did he actually believe in Cupid? Or was he just saying it?

You reach your favorite diner, and Felix manages to float through the door this time while following you. He stands behind your friend's chair as you chat and order, his hands hovering above Jisung's shoulder. He finally places them down, little lights forming from them as he tries to feel around for that familiar buzz and warmness.

But, nothing happens. Jisung doesn't flinch, you keep talking and laughing, and there is no buzz or warmness or love. At least not that kind, Felix can feel that Jisung cares about you as a friend but he isn't your soulmate and Felix feels relieved. Why is he relieved?! He's supposed to find your soulmate, that's his only purpose! He feels confused suddenly, thoughts swirling inside him and he decides - tonight will be the night he will try to infiltrate your dreams.

Felix waits for you to fall asleep instead of shimmering away this evening. When he's sure you're entering deeper into your dreams, he floats closer to you and hovers over you. He places his hands above your head and closes his eyes, concentrating on your energy. Little particles of light shine out of his hands onto your face, warming you up and creating the link your Cupid needs to basically transport himself into your mind.

You're dreaming, at least you think you are but it feels real. More real than any other dream you had before. You're in a field that seems to stretch forever, it's warm and sunny, you're surrounded by beautiful flowers but there's something different about them, different than flowers you see in real life. They're glowing, you realize. The light on their petals glimmers into million different colors, you've never seen anything like it.

"Pretty, isn't it?"- you hear a deep voice behind you and you whip around fast, but you're met with more flowers and grass.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"- you say.

"Not yet."- the voice says. "I don't want to spook you."

"Who are you?"- you ask.

"I'm... someone who's trying to help you open up your heart to love."- the voice reckons.

"Oh? I don't think my heart's closed though."

"Then why do you feel so lonely?"

"Ouch! That's none of your business!"- you feel slightly annoyed at the voice, but this is also just a dream so it must be your subconscious.

"Actually, that is exactly my business-"

"Honestly, I feel crazy talking to a void. Just come out from wherever you're hiding."- you hear a deep sigh and then you see a blinding light. Your arms come up to shield your eyes as you wait for the flickering to subside. When you put your arms down, you come face to face with a beautiful creature. You've never seen anyone as pretty as this creature is, they're practically glowing, their pretty pink wings shimmering and moving lightly as they hover over the ground.

"Hey, I know you!"- you say suddenly, pointing at him and waving your finger. "I saw you this morning when I opened my eyes. Oh my god, I am going crazy. I've conjured up some kind of pretty man in my dreams! You are a man, right?"

"Ugh, well, I'm not technically human. But for humans I am male presenting. I'm actually-" - Felix doesn't get to finish his sentence, he's suddenly forcefully thrown out of your mind.

The link is broken, why? Felix opens his eyes and you're awake. It's still night so why did you wake up? He floats away from you, giving you space as he sees you fumbling for your night lamp.

You turn the light on, your hand coming up to rest on your forehead. The connection must've been too much for you that it caused you a headache and that's why you woke up. Your Cupid feels bad that he caused you pain so he comes closer to you again, lifting his hands up over your hair to take the pain away. His light heals you and the pressure that was throbbing inside your head and behind your eyelids is suddenly gone. You go back to sleep feeling exhausted and confused about your dream even though you couldn't remember the details of it. Felix decides to stay next to you tonight.

It's been a few weeks, and the Elders haven't said a word about their meeting or Felix's 'situation' to him. He was still scared and panicky but he tried to stay calm for the sake of his charge - you, who he had to help find love. He tried to ignore the constant buzzing he felt whenever he got closer to you, but it was consuming him and making him feel weaker. Like his powers were harder to call upon, and he had no idea how you or the soul binded to you were doing that. Speaking of that soul, he had yet to find them and he tried to 'read' every single person interacting with you, but every time the reading came up blank.

Tonight, Felix decided to appear in your dreams again and try to make the dream longer so you could have a proper conversation.

You find yourself on the pretty field again, those wondrous flowers glowing beautifully around you.

"Hello?"- you say, looking around the now familiar place.

"I'm here."- the deep voice says and you turn around towards it.

"Indeed you are."- you chuckle. "I must be crazy."

"I assure you, you're not. Let me properly introduce myself. My name is Felix, and I am... well I'm your Cupid."- he says and you look at him in disbelief before you burst out into laughter, startling the poor creature.

"Okay, this is just a dream."- you shake your head.

"Yes, it is."

"At least I'm not hallucinating in real life."- you say.

"I've come to talk to you. I'm having some problems in finding the soul binded to you. I feel them close but I can't find them. It must mean that your heart is closed off to love."

"Is that like a soulmate?"- you play along this illusion you created in your head, when in fact you know you're just talking to yourself.

The glowing creature nods.

"What if I don't have one?"- you ask.

"Nonsense! Everyone has a soulmate."

"Even you?"

"I am just a messenger of love."- Felix shakes his head.

"Maybe I'm not meant for love. Maybe I'm an exception and I don't have a soulmate or whatever."- you sigh and Cupid floats closer to you.

"Is that how you feel? Undeserving of love?"

"Are you going all psychological on me?"- you chuckle, he's now closer to you and you feel warmth radiating from the light around him.

"Well, I need to know what's stopping you from finding love."

"I don't want to talk about this anymore."- you say, your mood sour suddenly and Felix feels it.

"Okay, we can talk about anything else."- he smiles at you.

"Don't you have somewhere else to be? Aren't you supposed to help people find love?"

"I am one of many."- Felix chuckles. "I'm supposed to be right here now. With you."

You're about to talk but your alarm blasts next to your ear and you realize you're waking up. The pretty field, flowers, sunshine and Cupid disappear into oblivion and you wake up in your room. The clock is showing 6:30am and you have to get ready for work. You have a warm feeling inside you and you feel like you just came from somewhere, some happy place and you're trying to grasp it again. You hate when you forget your dreams like that, but it must've been a good one because you're feeling more positive than you usually do.

Jisung calls you that evening, all excited about finding you the perfect date. He's been yapping about his coworker, Chan, for days, trying to get you to go out with him.

"Just take a risk. It's one date, what do you have to lose? If you don't like him just ghost him or something."

"Because that's very nice to do, Jisung."- you roll your eyes even though he can't see you over the phone and he laughs.

"Look, maybe it will just be some nice dick, but god knows you need that anyways."

"Oh my god!"- you laugh. "Alright then, I'll go out with him."

"Yes!"- you can imagine Jisung jumping up and down in excitement. "Wear that pretty black dress you have!"

And you do, you wear the dress, you put your heels on, you even put a little more makeup than you usually do and Felix watches.

He seethes in jelaousy, he recognizes it now, it's something Cupids aren't supposed to feel but he does. He wants you to make yourself this pretty for him, only for him. He knows it's the highest rule he's breaking but he can't help it, he's fallen in love with you.

You really don't have high expectations out of tonight, having been disappointed in people again and again. So you're surprised when Chan turns out not only handsome and funny but a real gentleman and someone you can actually have an intelligent conversation with. But you're cautious and don't want to jump to conclusions, or start anything serious.

That's why you decide to let go for the night, after a few encouraging drinks in your system, you invite Chan over to your place. You haven't been touched in so long, you forgot how good it feels to have someone kiss you as passionately as he does. You forgot how it feels to have gentle hands on your skin, worshipping you, laying you down on your bed.

Glowing golden tears slide down Felix's cheeks as he watches from the corner of the room. He knows Chan's not your soulmate, he linked to his soul back at the restaurant you had dinner at. And while he sensed that Chan was a good man, he still didn't want him anywhere near you. Felix still wants to give you privacy, but the buzzing and fuzziness clouding his senses don't let him move his wings or shimmer. He feels paralyzed and all he can do is turn his back to the bed, forced to listen to your pleasure, your strained moans, short breaths, your wetness caused by the man touching you and kissing you, the way you kept chanting his name.

Felix wishes to disappear, but at the same time his gut is stirring and he feels shame wash over him. He shuts his eyes tight, ignoring all the feelings brewing inside him, and suddenly he feels like he's being pulled up. He almost screams in fear but when he opens his eyes, he realizes he's back in his realm. Minho is glowing as he stands in front of him and Felix, still out of breath, slightly bows to his Elder.

"Felix."- Minho says and the Cupid gulps.

"Your powers are weakening fast, even as we speak."

"What's happening to me?"- Felix asks, fresh sparkly tears spilling out his eyes, lips quivering.

"You're losing your powers. You're becoming human, Felix."- Minho announces and Felix gasps.

"H-how is that possible?"- he's shivering now.

"I can't tell you yet. You need to find out on your own. Go back to your charge."

"B-but she's-"

"Go to her. Don't be afraid. Everything will be fine, Cupid."- Minho waves his hands towards Felix, little sparkly clouds coming out of them, soothing the Cupid's pain as much as he can.

"I can't shimmer."- Felix shakes his head, shaking a little.

"Just try to focus on your charge's energy and you'll be transported."- Minho says and Felix tries again, he senses you but he can't move.

"Hyunjin!"- Minho summons the other Cupid and he appears next to them. He takes in the state of his friend, shaking and tears still streaming down his cheeks. He's never seen him this weak or this sad.

"What's wrong?"- Hyunjin's brows furrow.

"He can't shimmer. Help him, just bring him to his charge, he'll show you the way."- Minho explains.

Hyunjin grabs Felix's hands gently and they both close their eyes, communicating with their minds, Felix sending his emotions and your soul's energy to Hyunjin. They manage to shimmer into your living room and Felix looks around. It's obviously the next day after that date, since time goes by differently in different realms.

"Hey, whatever happens, everything will be okay in the end, you know?"- Hyunjin smiles sympathetically at Felix, gently putting his hand on his friend's cheek.

"How do you know that?"- Felix's bottom lip quivers. "Do you know something I don't?"- he asks, vision blurry from tears. Hyunjin wipes them off.

"I don't. But I trust the Elders know what they're doing. And so does The Great Source Of Light. They would never harm us or anyone else for that matter."- Hyunjin reassures him.

"You really think that?"- Felix sniffles.

"I do. You'll be fine, my friend."- Hyunjin pats his head and shimmers away. Felix looks around again and you're not in the living room. He hears rummaging in your kitchen and he hopes and prays that Chan isn't still here. He wipes his tears away, trying to come to his senses, and you walk out of the kitchen towards your sofa.

You look up and freeze.

"What the fuck?!"- you squeal, grabbing the nearest object to you, which was just a decorative pillow in the shape of a flower and hurl it into the intruder standing next to your tv. Felix gasps, lifting his arms up to cover his face and the pillow flies right through him, a few particles of light dispersing around him as the pillow hits the wall with a thud.

"Okay, what the hell is this?!"- you say, obviously panicked and trying to pinch yourself so you wake up cause there's no way this is real.

"Don't hurt me!"- the 'intruder' speaks in a deep voice that's somehow familiar to you.

"What are you? What is happening?!"- you panic, half hiding behind your sofa. "Are you a ghost?"

"Ghosts are scary."- the creature shakes his head and comes closer. You squint your eyes, moving back a little, before realization dawns on you.

"I know you!"- you wave your finger at him and Felix feels a sense of deja vu. "You appear in my dreams. You talk to me. In some field with weird flowers."

"How do you remember that?"- he gasps. His powers must be really weakening.

"I remember a lot of my dreams. I don't remember what we talk about though. Am I going crazy and hallucinating right now? Talking to myself?"- you ask.

"No, I'm real."- the creature says.

You don't feel threatened for some reason so you come closer to him. Warmth radiates off of him and he looks ethereally beautiful up close. His hair is long and blonde, eyes dark but sparkles swim inside them, eyelashes long, freckles adorning his face, some of them in the shape of little hearts, even his upper lip is shaped like a heart. He glows, his pink shiny wings moving ever so slightly as he hovers above the ground just a little, before he plants his feet down on your carpet.

You reach your hand towards him, something pulling you closer to him and Felix stays completely still as he feels that buzzing again. His soul vibrates as your fingertips touch his ever so slightly and his eyes flutter. You gasp, only feeling electrifying warmness when you touch him, not actual skin like you would if you were touching a human.

"W-what are you?"- you whisper.

"I'm a Cupid. One of many. I was sent to help you find your soulmate."- he says and you laugh in disbelief, much like you did in your dream.

"I should call a doctor and get my head checked."- you sigh, sitting down on your sofa. Felix joins you reluctantly, almost shyly, and you eye him.

"I'm telling you, you're not crazy, this is real. It's just that you're not supposed to see me. But somehow you can."- he says.

"And why's that?"- you ask.

"I don't know. The Elders do. But they never told me anything, they said I should find out on my own."- the Cupid explains.

"The Elders?"- you play along to the madness.

"Yeah. Ugh, they're like beings of light like us, but like upper level. They take care of everything, keep the balance of Good in the world. All the positive feelings and such."- the Cupid explains.

"So is your name Cupid or?"- you say, trying to wrap your head around what's happening right now.

"No, my name's Felix."- he says.

"Okay then, Felix."- you emphasize his name and his chest flutters, some kind of vibrating wave washing over him. "How are you supposed to help me find my soulmate?"

"Well, I watched you and got to know you... and I'm supposed to feel the soul-"

"Wait, wait. You watch me? Isn't that kinda creepy?"- you stop him.

"N-no, it's literally what I'm supposed to do! Or it was, at least. I never intruded on your personal moments. I mean, not on purpose."- Felix says, looking away from you.

"What do you mean not on purpose?"

"I couldn't shimmer while you were here with your date last night. But I was summoned by the Elders anyways."

"Shimmer?"

"It's how Cupids transport through realms."- he explains, and you shake your head, your brows lifting up in disbelief.

"So you just watched me have sex?"

Felix cringes, the feelings stirring inside him last night threatening to resurface again.

"No, I didn't! I turned away. And just so you know, Chan is not your soulmate."

You scoff at him and grab your phone.

"Okay, I've had enough of this craziness. I'm gonna call the only person I trust, and if he can see you then you're real."- you nod to yourself.

"Jisung?"- Felix asks and you roll your eyes at him.

"You know eeeeverything about me, now do you?"- you say before Jisung picks up. You tell him it's an emergency and to come over asap.

And he does, just 10 minutes later, he's walking through your door.

"Come, I need to show you something."- you say grabbing his arm and pulling him into your living room.

"Where is the damn emergency?"- Jisung whines.

"There."- you point at Felix, who's standing next to the sofa now. "Do you see him?"

"You mean the pretty man with pink wings that's floating in your living room? Yeah I do and what the actual fuck?"- Jisung asks, his eyes widdened in shock.

"This is Cupid. One of many, as he says. His name is Felix and he's here to help me find love."- you sigh and Jisung laughs, shaking his head. "And since you can see him, either he's real or we're sharing a hallucination."

"I can't believe your ass was so lonely that you got your own personal Cupid to help you date."- Jisung jokes and you smack his head.

"Not funny!"- you say.

"Actually, you have your own personal Cupid too."- Felix chimes in.

"I do?"- Jisung's eyes widden again, his hand still rubbing where you smacked him.

"Everyone does."- Felix nods.

"So why can we see you?"- Jisung asks.

"I don't know. I don't know why any of this is happening. It all started when I accidentally swung the lamp and hit the wardrobe door-"

"That was you?"

"Yeah, and I'm not supposed to be able to influence physical stuff in the earth realm like that. I'm only made of light."- Felix explains.

"Okay then, you obviously need help. Since you can't shimmer or whatever, and people can see you, you have to stay here while I'm out. I mean people would probably be weirded out if they saw a guy with wings floating around me all day."- you chuckle and Felix nods, some kind of turmoil swirling in his chest.

"Shimmer?"- Jisung asks.

"Don't ask."- you say and Felix suddenly feels dizzy, he grabs at his chest, vibration going through his body.

"Felix?"- you tilt your head as you turn back to him.

He's buzzing even more now, little particles of light dispersing constantly around him.

"What's happening to him?!"- Jisung panics getting up and trying to get closer to the Cupid, only to be blinded by light.

Both of you lift your hands up to shield your eyes, and you hear some kind of little explosions like fireworks all around you.

The lights are so bright that you can see them under your closed eyelids.

You hear a thud and the lights disappear so you finally open your eyes. Felix is laying on the floor, seemingly unconscious and both you and Jisung rush to him.

You place your hand on Felix's shoulder and try to shake him only to realize you can actually feel him like he was made of flesh, not only the warmness and electricity that went through your palm earlier.

Felix is slowly waking up and he can hear Minho summoning him, at the same time he feels your hand on him, he feels the floor beneath him and he panics. He's pulled up suddenly, the action hurting him, his now human body screaming with pain.

"Felix."- he hears Minho's warm voice.

"What happened?"- Felix asks, slowly opening his eyes, all the light and swirling clouds that he was surrounded by every day of his existence suddenly making him naseous, intensifying the headache behind his eyelids.

"You're almost completely human. Have you realized why you're turning human?"- Minho asks and Felix shakes his head no.

Minho pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing in annoyance.

"Think about it. The buzzing you feel when you're close to your charge."

Felix thinks, despite the horrible aches going through his body, he tries hard to think about everything he knows. He gasps as realization dawns on him.

"I'm- I'm her soulmate?"- he says, his chest beating now and he clutches at it, realizing he now has a heart pumping blood through him.

"Finally!"- Minho chuckles.

"But how is that possible? Cupids aren't supposed to fall in love, especially not with mortals."- Felix recites the rule he learned the first day he opened his eyes.

"Well, someone screwed up. As you know, us Elders deal with good souls too, we help them reincarnate or pass on into different existences. Cupids souls are the souls of people who are done with their life on earthly realms, promoting them to a higher state of being. I mean, not only Cupids, but also Muses for inspiration, Sandman for dreams and many other light beings. The point is, your soul was supposed to be reincarnated as your charge's soulmate. But instead someone accidentally reincarnated you into a Cupid. Still, the pull of love is stronger than anything, travelling through realms and your soulmate ended up as your charge just so you can find love in each other. Weird how destiny works, but that is yours."- Minho explains and Felix just stares at him, the overwhelming amount of information seemingly suffocating him.

"Wh-what about my powers... My other charges..."

"Your charges have been divided between different Cupids, so don't worry about that. Your powers are actually what I wanted to talk to you about. They were one with you since the day you started existing, connected to your emotions so it will take some time for them to completely disappear. The transition will be hard but it will be worth it."

"B-but... what if she doesn't love me?"- Felix asks weakly.

"Oh, she already does. After all, she's your soulmate too."- Minho smiles, seemingly glowing even brighter than before.

"So what do I do now?"

"I will send you back to the earth realm. This is goodbye, former-Cupid. You did a great job helping people find love. It's your turn now to find yours."- Minho says beckoning Felix's friends to come closer. Hyunjin and Changbin float closer to Felix, both of them with golden tears sparkling in their eyes, threatening to spill out.

"You'll be fine, Felix. You deserve to feel love."- Hyunjin smiles at his friend and Changbin agrees.

Felix tries to hug them, but all he feels is the warmness of the light particles they're made of as they embrace him. It's enough for him to feel the love they hold.

"Shimmer him to his love."- is the last thing Felix hears before everything goes black.

It has been three weeks exactly since Felix disappeared and appeared again in your living room, without his wings, unconscious and running a high fever.

You and Jisung carried him to your bed when he appeared, unsure if you should call an ambulance or not. Jisung remembered that Chan's close to a doctor who's really good at what he does but you felt awkward since you never contacted him again after that night. He was still happy to help, holding no grudges against you and his doctor friend welcomes you to his ordination the same day.

You can't really explain the whole situation to the doctor lest he deems you crazy, but even with the little information you give to him, he takes care of Felix.

"Hm."- doctor Yang muses, staring at the papers in his hands. "He just has a fever, while all his other vitals are fine. It's just like he's burning up from the inside, like there's some kind of light or fire inside him."

Even after running all the possible tests, the doctor couldn't find the source of Felix's state, but you know it's gonna take more than any kind of human medicine to make him better.

And now it's been three weeks, Felix is falling in and out of consciousness, and you've tried everything and anything you could think of. Jisung's been helping you take care of him, and you've had time to think. Your heart ached for Felix, seeing him on the brink between life and death, holding on by a thread.

In the mean time, you decide to say fuck it and quit your job. It's not what you wanted to do originally anyways, you just had to pay bills like everyone else so you settled. But, after finding out about Cupids, Elders and whatnot, your earthly problems and concerns seemed kind of nonsensical. Life is so much greater than you thought it was, there is meaning in it, there is love and destiny and soulmates.

That's why you feel connected to Felix, in a way, he was excluded too, something you felt every single day of your life, especially at work. He was cut off from the only life he knew, he had no family or friends, no past on Earth, at least not in this life. You feel like you want to protect him in any way you can.

"Sungie, I'm worried. His breathing is really shallow."- you say, placing your hand on Felix's forehead.

Jisung is silent for a few moments, deep in thought.

"Jisung?"- you tilt your head at him.

"You know what I've been thinking? Since he is - well was Cupid, and he's made of light and love... wouldn't a true love's kiss make him better?"- Jisung suggests.

"Have you been reading fairytales?"- you chuckle.

"Cupid is kind of a fairytale though, isn't he? Or a myth, rather. I don't know, just think about it."

"That's so cliché though."- you shake your head in disbelief.

"Cliché or not, it could be the only way to help him."

That evening, you're alone with Felix and thinking about what your friend said earlier. It couldn't hurt to try, right? You got nothing to lose.

You get up from the couch that you've been sleeping on ever since Felix fell ill, and make your way to your room. He's laying on his back, his breathing fast and shallow, beads of sweat running down his forehead. You sit on the bed, nervousness suddenly washing over you and making your heart beat faster in your chest.

"Felix?"- you try like many times before, but to no avail. Your eyes water and you're afraid. If this doesn't work, he may not have much more time. The thought of that creates an empty hole in your stomach.

You lean in closer to his face and slowly press your lips on his. They're chapped but still soft and you feel something hit you, leaving you out of breath. Thousands of years of love, his soul that was binded to you since the beginning, stretching into forever, taking different shapes, nationalities, species. You may have even been two rocks on a shore when Earth first came into existence. You know him, you know his lips, you know his love.

You hear fireworks much like that day in the living room and you quickly pull back. Little lights are exploding around Felix and he opens his eyes.

"Y-y/n?"- he says weakly, his voice deep and raspy as he squints his eyes at you. The little lights from the fireworks disperse around you both.

"Felix?!"- you gasp. You can't believe it actually worked! Jisung is a damn genius, you think, smiling at Felix.

"W-what-"

"It's okay."- you touch his forehead and his fever seems to be subsiding quickly. "You have to drink some water."

Felix just nods, feeling completely confused and out of it. You grab a water bottle and help him drink.

"Oh, that's better."- he says. "What happened?"

"You were kind of unconscious for three weeks. Jisung and I took care of you. I thought you... I thought you wouldn't make it."- you say, your stomach swirling with many different emotions.

"How did you make me better then?"- he asks and your face warms up.

"I- ugh- I kissed you."- you declare and Felix's eyes widden, his cheeks rosy.

"Oh."- he looks away and awkwardness settles between you both as you have no idea what to do or say.

Felix's stomach suddenly grumbles making you chuckle as he gasps and grabs at it.

"I guess you're fully human now."- you say. "Let's go eat something."- you reach your hands towards him.

He grabs them, wobbling on his feet and you help him steady himself. After not using his legs for 3 weeks, he still feels weak and fuzzy even though your kiss basically healed him.

"My wings!"- he realizes suddenly. "They're gone!"

"Actually, they were gone as soon as you were brought back from your realm."- you tell him and he doesn't answer, seemingly deep in thought.

You decide not to pry with any questions as you both settle in the kitchen, he'll tell you what's on his mind when he's ready.

You whip up some instant noodles and bring two bowls to the table. Felix doesn't wait, he starts digging in with his chopsticks right away.

"Woah, woah, wait a little or you'll get burned."- you warn him, gently grabbing his hand.

His face flushes as he looks at you sheepishly.

"Sorry."- he mumbles.

"It's okay."- you smile at him. "You have lots of things to get used to."

When he does try the food, his eyes widden comically, lips falling open.

"Oh wow, this is so good! Must be food for gods."- he gasps.

"Thank you, but it's just instant noodles."- you chuckle. He smiles a little and continues eating as thoughts swirl around his head.

Now that he's completely human, everything he knew before and everyone he cared about was gone. Everything he ever was just evaporated, his powers, his wings, his duties. And even though he knows you're his soulmate, and you're bound to fall in love with him like he fell in love with you, he was still scared. If you didn't want him, he'd have nowhere to go.

"What's on your mind?"- you ask Felix after dinner, as you both sit on your couch.

"Well... I basically don't exist in this realm. I don't have a family, not even a last name. No one, but you I guess."- he sighs shyly.

"I know it's not the same, but I kind of of have no one except Jisung and well you either. I'm not really close to my family anymore."

"But the pictures-"

"Are old. They didn't agree with my choices and they didn't care for me when I was down. Jisung was there for me at my lowest so he's more like family to me than my actual one."- you say.

"I understand. It's just that... I'm scared."- Felix looks away from you.

"Of what?"

"I know we're soulmates but I'm afraid you wont see me the way I see you and then I'll truly have no one."- he says quietly. You chuckle, making him look up at you.

"You know what I felt when I kissed you?"- you ask and he shakes his head.

"I felt like I've known you for a thousand years. Like I loved you for a thousand years."- his lips tremble. "I've always been kind of a dreamer when it comes to love. But after being with wrong people I stopped believing. In soulmates, destiny, Cupids and whatnot. But kissing you tonight changed everything."

"Do you maybe want to try that again?"

Instead of answering verbally you start leaning in towards him slowly, your eyes travelling to his plump lips. Felix's heart starts beating hard against his chest as he leans in too. Your heart matches the beating of his as his breath hits your lips. He meets you halfway, your lips pressing together and you place your hands on his cheeks gently. You start moving your lips and he's stunned for a moment before he follows your lead. And suddenly, he feels all of it. All the precious moments of love you shared in your past lives. The purpose of his existence, he realizes as his soul buzzes is to love you. You smile into the kiss and he knows everything will be just fine.

#skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #lee felix fluff #skz angst #skz soft thoughts #skz soft hours #lee felix angst #lee felix #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #lee felix smut #skz smut #stray kids x you #lee felix scenarios

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

Note

Hello, my love!

I, unfortunately, missed your requests being open (six pages of a thesis is kicking my ass right now) but when they’re open again, is there a chance you could write another Dad!Price fic?

Since the last one felt so personal to me, would it be possible to have Price helping his daughter through Uni stress? Maybe she asks him to help her on her thesis? Lord knows I could use some inspo/assistance on mine!

Of course, if this is too late then feel free to delete it! I just wanted to pop in and drop a request off before I either, A: forgot about it, or B: missed your requests being open the next time :(

Sending so much love and hugs <3

Late Night Cookies

PAIRING: John Price x Daughter!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Stressed and still awake, you go to grab food from the kitchen before you get right back into your work. Your father talks some sense into you over a nostalgic recipe.

WORDCOUNT: 1.5k

WARNINGS: Stress around school, grades, papers, etc. but 90% fluff and comfort

A/N: I'm so glad you sent something in, Love! So good to hear from you again!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your eyes were blurry and your hands were shaking, the table light shining too brightly in the stillness of your bedroom as a cold breeze wafts through the cracked window.

The words swirled on your computer screen, sitting in front of you as your head slipped forward. Letters bleed into nonsense sentences that even a genius couldn’t make sense out of. There were weights on your fingers—keeping them stuck to the keys.

“And, thus,” your garbled speech slips out, reading the line you’d just written; eyes squinting as your headache flares. “A-and…thus…”

Shaking your head, you pull back and press your palms into your eyesockets, your spine flopping back with an audible crack as it straightens from hours of hunched torture. A groan slips out of your lips.

“Shit,” you growl, sighing harshly.

University, while necessary, was really your worst enemy right now—you’re constantly stressed and getting little sleep; when was the last time you’d eaten? Pages upon pages of typed research seer your eyes while closed. Only in this tight silence of your room were you able to hear the small sounds of the TV on in the house as it wafts in from under the line of your door.

Your hands slip down your face as you stare blankly at your ceiling, eyes burning with fatigue. The muffled shouts from football games play in your ears.

Humming, you push back from your desk and stand, stumbling for a second as your numb legs get prickles of electricity shooting through them. You needed food, water, even. Then you can get back into it. On the way out you snatch a blanket from the frame of your bed, wrapping it over your shoulders to preserve heat.

Like a snail, you shuffle over the hardwood before finally pushing out into the hallway with only a small bump into the door frame. Hissing, the darkness of the house was good, and before long you’d grumbled past the large form laying on the living room couch in need of any form of sustenance. So brain-fried, you end up completely missing the small questioning ask of your name as Liverpool fights off another rival on-screen. Slashing colors dance across the darkness.

The hand on your shoulder, though, you can’t miss.

“Sweetheart?” Your father’s voice brings you back from blankly nodding off into his chest as he turns you around. You jerk back with a rapid fluttering of your eyelashes.

“Yeah?” Your voice slurs, croaky, and you rub again at your cheeks with the corner of your blanket. “What’s up?”

Blue eyes blink down at you in shock at your state, small noise made in the back of the large man’s throat. “Hell’s this, then? Thought you were sleeping already.”

“Sleeping?” The tone is incredulous, a bit of sanity leaking back into your speech. You look up into your dad’s face and his tight beard; his eyebrows are curled in. “I’m not even close to being done. I can’t sleep yet.”

John blinks slowly, gaze darting from the sizable bags under your eyes to the redness of your sclera—the veins that reach for your irises like infectious fingers. His grip on you tightens.

“When’s the last time you took a break, Love?” He asks slowly, taking you by the shoulders and bending down a little. He looks concerned. “It’s bloody dark out.”

You stare and huff a sheepish, tired, smile while your dad’s expression tightens with exasperation. He blinks in disbelief at your non-answer, answer.

“Fuckin’ hell…c’mon, Sunshine, off to bed.” Your head is already shaking.

“I’m hungry.” John sighs, and the air ruffles your hair. But he relents and before you know it there’s a hand on the back of your shoulders corralling you into the kitchen. You lean heavily into your father’s side, and his fingers curl over your opposite arm.

A soft kiss is pressed to your head.

“How long have you been up, eh?” You yawn and lick your lips. Flinching when John flicks the kitchen light on. Burrowing down into your blanket, you seep in his heat like a greedy lizard. “Sweetheart?”

“Dunno,” you’re guided over to the island and plopped down into a chair. “I need to finish my work.”

He chuckles and you slouch over to fold your arms, resting your chin on them. “Well, I suppose you plan on finishing it half-asleep?”

John opens the fridge, looking over the small remnants of supper. He frowns and turns to look at you as your face lays sideways on your limbs. You blink slowly at him.

“...Maybe,” you grumble, face hot.

Your father grunts and closes the fridge, turning back around and crossing his arms.

“No more of this, eh?” He begins, glaring and infecting his words with that infectious authority. “After we get you fed, you’re off to bed. That’s that.”

You’re about to protest before your dad interrupts with a stern growl of your name. You grit your teeth and shamefully dip your head. There’s a moment of silence where the outside sounds of wind and creaking can be heard—the entire world asleep beside the father and daughter in the dim kitchen.

John tilts his head and softens his face; feet carrying him over. Stopping beside you, he places his hand on your scalp and pats you gently, rubbing his thumb into your hair. Lashes flutter, and your body sags into the counter even more. Your father kisses your head and whispers, “You need your sleep, Sweetheart. This’ll do you no good. Pace yourself, you’ll get it done—I promise, yeah?”

“How do you know?” Your voice mutters, hesitation finally showing itself. Eyes stare at the table, red and dry.

Your father chuckles and you glance back. He’s smiling in his own way, wrinkles showing and eyes crinkling with amusement.

“You’ve gotten this far. My girl’s not one to give it up. And even if you do,” he stands and pats your shoulder before he heads to the pantry. Your expression leaks slight confusion as he opens the door. “We can figure it out together. It’s not the bloody end of the world. It’ll pass.”

Your internal anxiety eases at your parent's reassurance, his casual surety more of a blanket than the one you already swaddle yourself with. The subtle anxious shaking of your fingers stills after a moment of cognition. Stuffing down another yawn, you feel a warmth burn in your heart at the words and you smile.

“When did you get all wise?” You tease, seeing John take out various ingredients as you watch. He scoffs.

“The second I got the call I was needed in hospital and had a damn daughter.” You laugh.

“Alright, then,” your sarcastic reply slips out, and John chuckles lowly. After a moment you can’t stop your curiosity, no matter how much your limbs stay heavy. “What are you doing?”

A large bowl had been placed on the counter with a dull thunk. Blue eyes darted at you before measuring cups were spawned next to the previous object.

“What’s it look like, then?” John’s finger casually points to a recipe that had been set up on the wall, a thin and damaged piece of paper with chicken scratch; stains, and crumpled corners. You blink at it in recognition.

“...Cookies?”

“You want chips or cinnamon?”

Watching with wide eyes, you clear your throat and utter, “Uh, c-chips, I guess?” John grunts and focuses with a calm face. The recipe had been a sort of inside joke between the two of you.

When your dad was off on assignment for long periods, you’d always make him a batch when he was set to leave and when he came back—a kind of soothing gesture to ease the uncertainty. To let him know you’d be alright without him here.

He made them for you when you were sick or feeling bad. You blink quickly to dispel the sudden wetness of your eyes.

“You helping?” John asks, not turning to you, as he dumps flour into the bowl. “Won’t taste right if you don’t.” A cheeky tone hits your ears.

Standing, you shuffle over and grab at the chocolate bag, digging inside and stealing a few before your dad can stop you. He gives you a fake glare, huffing under his breath before smirking to himself.

Your body leans into his side and you giggle as he rubs his beard into your head.

—

Hours later, you rest limply against your dad’s shoulder on the living room couch, empty plate on the coffee table and the TV low. You breathe softly and get the sleep you both deserve and need—of course, the work would start back up tomorrow, but it always would. Having your dad in your corner was the thing to keep you upright; your rock.

John looks down and watches you with a deep well of affection and ease. He kisses your head before his arms reach around you, lifting with no problem.

He carries his little girl, because that was what you would always be, off to bed and tucks you in. Snapping off your desk lamp with a small sigh of contentment and a low hum.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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perpetualfox · 1 year

Text

Salvation - König x GN!Reader [NSFW]

Warnings: Fuck Or Die, Heavy Dub-Con, Rough-Handling, Knife-Play, Fear of Death, Use of Stimulants

Wordcount: 1009

@bunny-extract posted this and I blacked out. When I woke up, I found this on my laptop screen. Enjoy.

[Guys, I'm not kidding with this one, the dub-con is heavy. This is probably the closest I'll ever come to non-con. Take that into account.]

→The man loomed above you, a hulking figure that blotted out the weak, dusty blue of the sky. He knelt, one knee braced firmly against your sternum, pinning your body with frightening ease to the uneven, rocky ground. Jagged rocks and pebbles dug into your flesh as he pressed you down, marring your back with deep indentations. You could feel your skin tearing against the rough edges; blood leaking from the wounds and pain lighting up your nerves. You thrashed beneath him, but it was like struggling against a wall of iron.

→“Ah, ah, ah,” he hissed, “Mach das nicht.”

→The cold tip of a knife kissed the side of your throat, and you stilled, a terrible, hollow pit opening in your stomach. The chill of the blade spread through you, infecting you with an icy terror that surged through your veins with each frantic pulse of your heart.

→He was going to kill you.

→“Sag mir, wo sind deine Freunde?”

→You stared up into his face—or what passed for his face: a ratty mask—the dark fabric tattered and bleach-burned beneath the slits through which his dark eyes gleamed. It was torn and stained with sweat and dust and…worse.

→“I-I don’t—”

→The tip of the knife bit a little deeper into your throat. A hot bead of blood welled beneath the tip, fattening until it rolled down to collect and cool in the hollow of your throat. Tears flooded your eyes, blurring the nightmare that loomed above you into an indistinct smudge.

→“Please! Please don’t! I-I-I don’t understand!”

→He scoffed, his eyes rolling skyward. When he spoke, he did so slowly, as though he thought you terribly stupid. He formed each word very carefully, his accent curling about the vowels, each syllable accompanied by a tap on the butt of the knife. A threat and a promise.

→“Where. Are. Your. Friends?”

→“I-I don’t…I don’t have…?”

→The knife bit in just little deeper, the blood now trickling down your neck in a thin stream. “Don’t play dumb.”

→A sob tore free from deep within your chest as you writhed beneath him; a wet, wretched sound. “I swear! I swear!”

→You flashed him your hands—empty and trembling; harmless. He leaned back, tilting his hips forward as his eyes raked over your body, really taking in your appearance for the first time—the scrapes and bruises marring your face and limbs; your clothing, rumpled and dirty; lacking any sort of insignia that might denote your company or rank; the way you cowered beneath him, your eyes not trained on him, seeking out weakness, but flitting about wildly, desperately searching for a means of escape.

→A civilian?

→His head cocked to the side; a dog taking a keen interest in a strange new toy. Though he did not withdraw the knife, his demeanor shifted.

→“Oh, Mäuschen. You’re a long way from where you belong.” You could hear the smile in his voice, cruel and sharp, but it did not reach his flat, dead eyes.

→A bullet whizzed by, and you flinched, tears finally spilling down your cheeks. He threw his head back and laughed, a terrible sound, dark as oil and thick as tar, “You’re afraid, Schatzi.”

→He leaned in, tucking his head into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply, as though he could smell the fear on you. His eyes were wide and wild, pupils blown out so large they nearly swallowed his iris whole. Only when he’d leaned in had you caught the thinnest strip of green circling that deep, void black. Between that and the jittery, twitching of his shoulders, you were sure he was high on something—some stimulant or another coursing through him—blowing his brains out the back of his skull.

→Another bullet zipped by, cutting a chunk clean out of the wall. The man didn’t blink, even as you bit back a scream.

→“Ah. Someone knows we’re here,” he said, his tone shockingly matter of fact.

→He leaned in a little closer, the sour smell of him—sweat and blood and gunpowder—washing over you. “Beg me,” he whispered, the rough material of his mask brushing against the shell of your ear, “Beg me to save your life.”

→You just stared up at him, your eyes huge and wet. He surged forth, your face slotting neatly into his palm. His fingers dug into your cheeks, smooshing them together with a thick thumb and forefinger, “I said, ‘BEG!’”

→Hot tears slid down your face, flowing over his fingers, “P-Please, save me!”

→His bruising grip relented, the rough pad of his thumb grazing over your cheek in a misguided attempt to comfort you.

→“Such a good little thing you are, yes? Yes. Now, stay put.”

→The weight on your chest vanished, and you gasped for breath, coughing as the dust in the air tried to settle in your lungs. Your dirty fingers curled around your throat; your blood-soaked flesh slippery beneath your fingers. As you struggled to sit up, the big man turned, slinging the rifle from his back, and setting it up atop a low-slung wall of crumbling stone.

→When he was satisfied with his position, he grabbed for you. Taking you by the scruff of the neck, he half-dragged you forward, pressing your back against the wall. He kicked your legs form under you, letting you drop like a sack of stones into the rubble at his feet. His hand fisted into your hair, pressing your face between his legs. His hips kicked forward with an eager, greedy air. Even through the thick canvas of his pants, you could feel what lay, thick and throbbing beneath them.

→God, he’s massive.

→You braced your hands against his knees, using what little leverage you had to push yourself back, “B-But…I thought…”

→He glanced down at you, drinking in your horrified expression. The skin around those dead-man’s eyes crinkled and you realized with a sick jolt, that he was smiling.

→“Oh, not for free, Schatzi. You’ll need to make it worth my while.”

Translations:

→Mach das nicht - Don't do that

→Sag mir, wo sind deine Freunde? - Tell me, where are your friends?

→Mäuschen - Mousie

→Schatzi - Treasure

#konig x reader #mw2 x reader #konig mw2 #konig cod #konig smut #mw2 smut

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struckd0wn · 6 months

Text

Nobody talks about Shy tops and their equality shy bottoms enough so I will write it myself 😈

𝐒𝐡𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐩!𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐞 × 𝐒𝐡𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Smut and some fluff ig, kinda sappy LOL :3

18+, mdni

Both of you are too shy to initiate intimacy so it gets awkward when you're both in the mood but both to scared to make a move until eventually you both just explore

You and Tomas sit side by side on your shared sofa. You're both visibly antsy and desperate for one another but both of you are to scared to just reach out. Your eyes leave the television screen, examining your boyfriend's face. His strong jawline shifts as he clenches his teeth, watching you watch him from the corner of his eye. Eventually Smoke turns to look at you, catching your eyes. His face lights up bright red and you assume your cheeks are burning as well. The eye contact last a couple of seconds before the both of you collide roughly, leting out all of your pent up energy out.

Asking for thing is also difficult for the both of you. Mumble out a request, blush covering their face, only for the other to not hear. Repeating their selves, blush worsening as they see their partner blush at the suggestion.

"Hey love, Can I... eat you out." You look up to him from your phone, asking him to repeat himself as you didn't quite hear him. Tomas's face is bright red and his blue eyes refuse to meet yours. "Can I eat you out." The elder tells you again, fiddling with the hem of his shirt. You're almost speechless, taking your turn to blush a dull pink over your cheeks. You nod your head and your lover lights up immediately, dragging you along to the bedroom.

During Intimacy it's not to bad, the two of you are usually too caught up in the pleasure to feel embarrassed, but sometimes it's inevitable.

Tomas groans softly, his calloused fingers run through your hair as you bob up and down on his swollen cock. He opens his eyes, averting his gaze down to you in between his legs. The sight of you is almost to much to handle, your puffy lips on his erection, smaller hands wrapped around his shaft, tear filled eyes looking back up at him. Smoke burns, turning to look away, bashful and in a bit of disbelief at how good you look. You burn too, embarrassed as he watched you shamelessly choke down his length like it was nothing.

The aftermath is the most embarrassing part for the both of you, unsure of what to say or how to continue after such sinful activities.

Tomas leans over you, huffing heavily after finishing inside of you. Your legs quiver around him, eyelids drooping at your sudden tiredness. Your lover watches you from above, one hand holding him up and the other softly caressing you cheek. You stare back up at him, quickly feeling more embarrassed by the second, pulling up the blanket to cover your reddening face. Smoke laughs nervously, leaning down to hide his own face in the crook of your neck, turning both of you on your side to cuddle for the rest of the night.

a/n: sorry I've been gone so long LOL, kinktober burned me out horribly but I'm back >:3, I'll get to my requests soon I promise. I was sick and had covid the last 2 times I wanted to write the universe DID NOT WANT ME WRITING SMUT. anyways, I'll try to write more I promise :D!!!

#smoke smut #smut #gn reader #ftm reader #smoke x reader #trans reader #gender nuetral reader #transmasc reader #drabbles #sub male reader

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wishuroses · 1 year

Text

.⠀ ݁ ⸜⸜ 𓂃 𓇼 experiment, spider soccoro.

✶ pairings: spider x sully!reader

✶ warnings: fluff, kissing, touchy spider, sorry guys it gets heated, love confessions, reader is just a big cat (purring and scenting ensues), size differences, uppercase intended!

✶ word count: 1k

✶ na’vi glossary: yovo – a purple fruit, palulukan – the rainforest’s most fearsome predator.

✶ a/n: being deathly exhausted while simultaneously dying of hunger while writing is not a good mix lawd i’m running LAPS. beware that idk how to write people kissing but i tried my best! happy reading >:-)

It was a quiet and cold night in the lab, hours past eclipse. Norm had suggested that Spider head to bed and you to go back home a long while ago, but you both decided against it–you knew your father would be at least a little understanding (but at the same time, you knew you were going to end up getting a scolding one way or another), your mother, on the other hand, not so much.

(Neytiri loathed Spider so much it made her blood boil and she made sure you both knew that, but the exact reason as to why–you weren’t sure. Nor will you be willing to understand. But one thing you did know was that you loved him, way too much. You weren’t sure if it was platonic or romantic, but either way you weren’t about to fight it. Not a chance.)

The only things you both could hear were the soft pitter-patters of rain that tapped against the glass and the buzzing hum of the hazy overhead lights, long forgotten video logs played on the illuminated screen before you.

It was nice, being alone with your closest friend like this. A small smile graced your lips at the thought, holding the small breathing device up to your mouth, inhaling the precious air, your eyes fluttering shut.

Your calm stupor, however, was cut short when you heard Spider’s nervous voice ring out towards you, soft but held a certain tone that demanded your attention.

“Could I try something?”

When you looked over, his eyes were locked and set onto the floor, finding it more interesting than anything else in the chilly room. Your wide honeyed gaze burned holes into the side of his head, eyebrows furrowing with nothing but concern for your friend. “What is it?”

Spider bit his lip in thought before responding, looking you dead in the eye. “Get on the table.”

Silence.

“..This table will collapse underneath itself as soon as I sit down, Spi.” You responded with raised eyebrows, questioning, staring at him incredulously.

He has the gall to scoff, shrugging. “No it won’t, trust me. I’ve jumped over these things way too many times, and they haven’t budged, not once.”

You paused. Another beat of silence passed.

Your nose crinkled with doubt at the delicate skyperson table not breaking under your lithe, but heavy body–you wouldn’t believe that for a second– but something you could definitely believe is him playing jungle on top of them like it was nothing– honestly such a Spider thing to do.

Despite your inner dialogue, you couldn’t possibly resist this silly monkey boy anyways, even if it meant saving your life. “Fine.” You grumbled.

You placed yourself on the sleek expanse of the metal table, hissing softly as nothing but pure coldness stung the back of your thighs like pinpricks. The table was quite large, admittedly so, but your feet still managed to prod the floor.

A sharp, playful grin stretched across his face once you complied, immediately finding his place between your legs, warm palms smoothing atop your bare thighs. You shivered, goosebumps dotting across your navy blue skin–whether it was from the stale, chilly air of the lab or because of Spider’s touch, you had no idea.

“Spider,” you mused, making him look up at you through thick lashes. You found it oddly adorable how he was still so, so small, even when you’re sitting on a table, nearly hunched over to at least meet some of his height. He was tall for a human, you knew this, but gosh. You thought to make fun of him for it, like you usually do, but you couldn’t find it in you–for whatever reason. “What’s this all about?”

“I want to try to.. conduct an experiment.” If you weren’t so caught up in your confusion, you would’ve noticed the way he leaned into you, taking in your ray of presence with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Bro.. conduct an experiment?” You parroted with a cunning smile on your face, mirth shining in pools of gold. “Haha, you sound like Norm!”

Spider gasped, scandalized. “Shut up. I do not.” He flushed a pretty pink and shoved you gently, making you cackle aloud. “Norm said that if I ever get bored, I should try to experiment–test things out, I guess.” You hummed and placed a hand on his shoulder, letting him know that you were listening. “Thought that’d be boring to do by myself, and I always have fun with you, so that’s why I need you here.”

You nod once, managing to keep a straight face at the hidden confession, but the upwards flick of your ears and the way your tail thudded against the table gave it away. He always has fun with you? Now that was news to you.

All of a sudden, the air felt thinner and your heart felt like it was about to jump out of your chest, you quickly took a flustered breath from the device that dangled from your side. The lab was only chilly a few moments, why was it hot in here all of a sudden?

“Alright..” You licked your lips, and this time, you definitely didn’t miss the way his eyes caught the movement, intrigued. “So, what’s your hypothesis?”

“My hypothesis is that I can make you blush.” He states matter-of-factly, an even sharper grin taking over his features, making your heart palpate violently against your chest. “With my lips.”

You sputtered; now it was your turn to be scandalized, eyes popped open so wide that Spider was so sure they were about to jump out of your sockets.

“With your– with..” You heard the blood rush to your face, your ears flicking downwards with embarrassment. “Spider.. bro.. that’s so..”

“What? C’mon, let me kiss you.” He pouted, daring to lean even closer to you, making your thighs open wider to accommodate him. “I wanna kiss you.” You let out a breath at his straightforwardness, you knew he was not leaving you alone until he got that kiss.

Spider placed his hands around on your thin waist, squeezing softly, making your breath hitch. Fuck it, you thought, before leaning forward to crash your plump lips against his smaller ones, trying your best to work around the difference. He groaned internally, you tasted like sweet yovo fruit. Spider immediately reciprocated with an equal amount of vigor, thumbing the edge of your ribcage.

Noises of wet, desperate lips smacking together and strained breaths filled the air, and you both could only pray that Max or Norm wouldn’t walk in on both of you nearly eating each other’s faces off like two hungry palulukan in heat.

After a few moments, you pulled back–much to Spider’s dismay– making him push forward to chase your lips. Your chest was heaving, face flushed a ripe purple-ish color, while Spider was completely pink from head to toe–like the strawberries your father once told you about years ago. The pit of your tummy fluttered tremendously, like branch tips releasing new buds in gentle, fluctuating bursts.

The loud thumping of a tail and a purr thundered throughout the lab, effectively startling Spider. You push your head between the juncture of his neck and jaw, rubbing your cheek against the skin. He’d absolutely have to ask you about this later.

Your back arches like a strung bow, hips grinding forward against his with newfound vigor, the sudden pressure and friction against loincloths makes Spider groan heartily, thumbs rubbing encouraging circles into the dip of your hips. Eywa, you are huge. He’s overwhelmed, and so are you, yet makes no move to stop you. Please keep going, he wants to say, please.

Then, for you, it finally clicks.

You and Spider kissed. You and Spider… kissed. And the cherry on top is that you purred.

With whatever amount of shame you had leftover, you throw yourself back and slap your three-fingered hands over your flushed face. “Sorry. Oh, by Eywa, I’m so sorry.” He laughs breathlessly and gently removes your hands from your face, intertwining his hands with your bigger ones, silently reassuring you. You let him.

“This wasn’t just an.. experiment, right..?” You mumbled, bright eyes blown out wide and hopeful, Spider felt his resolve melt at your vulnerable state.

“Norm was right about that experiment thing, but I just wanted an excuse to kiss you. I plan to do it even more after today.”

“But..” you paused, “I thought you liked Kiri?”

Spider looked at you as if you’d just sprouted fifteen heads right before his eyes, but his gaze still held something soft. Something soft that was reserved for you only. “If I liked Kiri then I would’ve kissed her, not you, stupid!” At his words, your bottom lip juts outward to form a pout.

“So, you like me? Like, really like me?” You whispered, almost disbelieving.

“Yes, dummy, I really like you.”

“I really like you too!”

You surged forward, sending the both of you tumbling onto the chilled floor, tangled up in a mess of giggles and light pecks across each other’s blushing faces.

If it meant basking in your warmth every moment and every hour of the day, Spider would definitely consider conducting experiments with you more often.

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oleander-nin · 7 months

Text

Horrortober Day 31- Trapped(Yandere Rise Leo x Reader)

A/N, not important: LETS GO! I DID IT! 31 DAYS OF POSTING! I'm probably going to revisit a lot of the ideas I had because the time constraint made it so I couldn't do as much as I wanted, but I'm still very happy with this. Sorry this fic's kinda all over the place, I started having trouble finishing it so I just went for it and now it's really... Off. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Alcohol, being trapped in a vehicle, party, underage drinking, kidnapping, unedited.

Words: 2005

Summary: Leo was the wrong person to call.

The phone in your hand rings a couple more times, your eyes darting back and forth between the lit up house and the dark street. The music was still blaring from inside, speakers pretty much pressed against the windows for mass volume. You could feel the ground vibrate beneath you, the trash and people littered on the lawn making the whole house look like a disaster waiting to happen. You can barely hear your phone’s ringing that signified your call was going through over the loud sound, the lights leaking out the window making you even more nauseous. You could feel the mistakes of the night take a toll on your body, the accidentally consumed alcohol making your mind fuzzy. The bitter taste should have tipped you off, but you wrongly assumed it was just from the carbonation. You hadn’t even fully realized what was in your drink until the third sip, your mind fogging over and making you panic.

The phone buzzes as Leo’s muffled voice finally comes through, breaking you from your stupor. You lift the phone fully to your ear, trying to think of what to say. You blink as you stare forwards, unsure what to do. You had forgotten why you called him, unable to think as you stare out onto the dim street.

“I think I want to go home.” You mumble, picking at the sleeves of your costume. The white button up of your vampire suit was starchy, and you swore you could feel it burning your skin. You wanted it off. You nod, agreeing with your own words as your voice starts to perk up. “Yeah, yeah. I do. Can you come pick me up? Please? My uh… My ride is gone.”

Leo’s quiet for a moment, and your stomach drops as you worry he’s going to leave you here. You look back at the house, not wanting to go talk to anyone there and beg for a ride. The one person you knew here had already left, leaving you behind with a cup of spiked punch while swearing it was clean.

“I’ll be there in a bit. Hang tight.” Leo responds, his voice softer than you usually know it to be. You open your mouth to respond, but your phone turns off, Leo’s contact shining brightly. You stare at the screen, feeling miffed. He hung up so quickly, you hadn’t even told him where you were. You sit down on the grass, the long cape acting as a small buffer between your pants and the ground. You watch the air around you while you goof off on your phone, waiting for a familiar blue portal to open up next to you. You open up his contacts, deciding he just didn’t know where you were, but the loud hum of an engine makes you stop.

Coming down the road was the turtle tank, it’s fortified outside looking daunting as it comes towards you. One of the people on the lawn starts to shout happily at the sight of the tank, a plastic cup full of foul smelling liquid hitting the side. You grimace, knowing Donnie was going to make you scrub it from top to bottom once he notices.

You walk up to the door and let yourself in, Leo’s impatient form sitting at the front of the tank. He pats the seat next to him as the door locks behind you, his eyes glued to the windshield and the road it showed.

“Thank you,” You mumble as you sit down, frowning at his silence. Leo was never this quiet. He always had something to say, especially to you, and his new attitude worried you. You shift awkwardly while he just nods and starts to roll the tank down the road, his free leg bouncing erratically.

“Was it worth it?” He finally asks, after you had driven at least a mile down in silence. You look up at Leo, surprised that was his first question. He doesn’t look at you, his jaw ticked to the side while he concentrates on the road. His body was slumped in the seat, his posture screaming relaxed if not for the erratic bouncing of his leg.

You chew on your cheek, unsure how to respond. His eyes dart to you, waiting for your answer, but you stay quiet. You know he was asking about the party, but his question was too broad to make it into your buzzed brain. Leo waits a minute more for you to answer before letting out a dramatic sigh, his eyes rolling in their sockets.

“Was going to this stupid party worth blowing us off? Did you have more fun here?”

You stare at Leo, shrinking down. His words made you feel guilty, your hands fiddling with the cuffs of your sleeves once more.

“I didn’t blow you off. I just made other plans.” You explain, trying to defend your decision to attend the party instead of the gathering the Hamato’s had every year. Leo breathes harshly through his nose, clearly not pleased. He plasters a smile on his face, looking at you cheekily.

“Oh I’m sorry. I must’ve forgotten you didn’t inform us of your plan change until three hours ago.”

You wilt in your seat, smiling weakly at the mutant. Leo turns back to the road, his hands gripping the tank’s steering wheel tighter than needed. Silence settles over you both once more, the tense and awkward atmosphere making you uncomfortable. You didn’t know what to say, trying to think of how to mend it. You felt bad, but in that moment, you really wanted to go to this party.

“You smell awful, by the way.” Leo remarks, glancing over at you. Your face heats as you scowl, no longer feeling guilty. He opens his mouth again, whether to insult you or to apologize, you didn’t care.

“When you go to a party with alcohol, you’re going to end up smelling like it.” You say coldly, no longer caring to try and mend the rift. Leo sighs, tapping his hands on the wheel while he tilts his head to the side.

“Did you drink?”

“Not on purpose.”

Leo looks at you, his brow-line furrowed and concern in his eyes. “Explain.”

“My friend gave me a spiked punch cup. Not sure if it was on purpose or not, but I ended up drinking a couple sips before realizing.” You bring your knees into the seat, curling up. Your eyes were heavy, and your body was starting to protest the late time you were up.

“I don’t like that.” Leo says slowly, his usually jovial attitude gone. You didn’t like how cold he was tonight, even if he seemed to be trying. His annoyance with you was making you more and more upset, your muddled brain taking everything much too dramatically.

“I never asked.” You retort. “And I wanted a ride home, not a lecture. It’s my Halloween, and this is what I wanted to do.”

“So you wanted to drink underage, got it.” Leo says sarcastically, his eyes darkening. You groan, rubbing your face as you try not to snap at him.

“20 is barely underage, and I wouldn’t have called you if I knew you were going to be such a jerk tonight.”

Leo’s eye twitches as he slams on the brakes to pull into a parking lot, shaking you in your seat and making you grab onto the control panel for support. Leo puts the tank in park before unbuckling his seat belt and turning his chair to look at you, an irritated look on his usually relaxed face.

You look at him, stunned. Leo wasn’t usually someone to act so huffy, so this whole night was a surprise. You wait for him to speak, to explain, but he doesn’t. Leo just continues to stare at you, his chin in his hands while his eyes look you up and down. You unbuckle your own seatbelt, standing up. You were tired of whatever fit Leo was throwing, and if he wasn’t going to take you home, you’d figure out how to go yourself.

You reach out for the handle that would open the door, grumbling all the way from the annoyance at Leo’s weird attitude. You snatch your hand back as alarms begin to blare and every outside entrance and view is shuttered, Donnie’s recorded voice coming over the speakers to announce the tank’s lockdown. You look over at Leo with wide eyes, his hand still on the button. He slowly slides it back, putting his chin in his hand once more.

“Oops.” He teases, grinning slyly. You stare at Leo, enraged at his actions. The childish behavior made you want to scream, to pull your hair out or to smash everything in vicinity.

“What was that?!” You demand, gesturing wildly to the now shuttered and locked door. Leo shrugs, still grinning like he didn’t care you were both now trapped for 24 hours or until Donnie came and figured out how to undo the lockdown.

“You tried to leave. I still want to talk with you.” He says simply. You stare at him, bewildered. Every word that was coming out of his mouth was making you more and more furious, the anger building threatening to burst.

“I have to get home!” You protest, throwing your hands into the air with frustration.

Leo leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and his arms over his chest. “You weren’t going home, you were going back to that dingy apartment.”

“That is home.” You seethe, trying to not panic.

Leo stares at you, his eyes boring into your own while you slowly back down. His gaze was unnerving, like he was possessed and wasn’t himself. The last time you saw him like this, Raph had to hold him back from what he tried to do. You shudder, stepping back. You didn’t want to poke at his nerves when you were stuck with him for this long.

“I think it’s time I really brought you home.” Leo muses, seemingly thinking aloud rather than trying to tell you something. You look over at him, blinking slowly as you process what he said.

“You locked the tank. You can’t bring me home.”

“I’m not talking about that stupid apartment you insist on staying at.” Leo refutes, grimacing at the thought of your residence. You glare at him, not appreciating his words towards the place you worked so hard to get and maintain. “I’m talking about where you belong.”

“Yeah, in my bed, and not Donnie’s tank.” You grumble, making Leo snort. He stands up, coming up to you and taking your hand. You look at him questioningly, hesitantly turning to meet him. Leo squeezes your hand, smiling softly.

“I’m serious. I’m going to take you home once the lockdown’s over. You’ll be happy, and I’ll keep you safe. No more parties, no more stupid spiked drinks. You’ll be with me, like how it’s supposed to be.”

You furrow your brow, trying to take your hands from Leo, but he holds firm. You nervously laugh while trying to break free from his grip, unease starting to build up. “Ha ha, very funny Leo. Now let go, you’re starting to freak me out.”

Leo shakes his head, straightening up as he looks brightly at you. “I’m serious. I’ve been trying to think of a good time to bring it up, but after your little party stunt, I figured now was better than never. You’re coming home, whether you like it or not.”

You stare at the mutant, fully starting to panic now. Seeing the timer slowly ticking down helped hammer it in, your stomach lurching as your mind starts to shut down. Leo smiles, pulling you into his arms and rubbing your back soothingly, pretending like he wasn’t trying to uproot you from everything you knew. You had 24 hours stuck with him, and 24 hours of him to break you down. You really hoped you could last.

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aritsukemo · 7 months

Text

Insecurity | Kazutora H.

Character: Kazutora Hanemiya

A/N: Baby needs a hug and I'm willing to give him one.

The moon shone brightly. It's luminescent rays shining down on the earth and slipping through the crack of the black curtains, creating a singular light that illuminates the bed in a similar fashion. Aside from this, the room is mostly shrouded in darkness, hiding the lush furniture in its shadows. Among this dimness, a phone shines brightly, it's reflection burning it's shape into sandy-colored eyes as a callous fingertip swipes endlessly at the screen..

"( Stage Name )'s outfit looked amazing tonight! 😍"

"Who's the dude with them?"

↳ "I think it's their partner."

"No wonder they've kept their love life a secret for so long. If my man looked like that, I would've too."

"He looks like something out of a horror movie fr fr."

"I'm sorry but I can't imagine her dating someone who looks like that. I really hope they aren't together. ( Stage Name ) deserves so much better. 😭"

Comment after comment flies past as they're read swiftly. Although a lot of tweets and comments focused on you and the outfit that you wore to the movie premiere the night prior, most were about the man that walked hand-in-hand beside you, nervously smiling at the abundance of cameras that were in his face that night—almost all comments made being negative.

"He looks like a drug dealer."

"Whoever made his outfit should be fired on the spot."

"Why did they let him outta the house lookin' like that? Did this to themselves tbh."

"He looks like he'd be the type to beat his wife every night when he comes home from work. Lowkey worried."

Despite this, he couldn't stop scrolling. Maybe it was the hope that he'd find a tweet that defended him or tweet that didn't comment on his tired eyes or vibrant hair or the fact that there was a faint stain on the corner of his shirt that was likely from the food that he hurriedly ate with you in the car that night just before you arrived.

"What's with the long face, 'tora?" He jumps. He hadn't even noticed you enter the room but as he peeled his eyes away from his phone screen, he wish he did sooner. There you stood before him, no makeup, hair wet and sticking to the corners of your face, an oversized shirt—his shirt specifically—clinging to your dampen skin and just barely highlighting your curves, and your legs bare for all to see. It was an intoxicating sight.

One that makes a part of him feel tremendous guilt and embarrassment the more he stares at you.

"It's nothing.." He mumbles out hastily after a while and to his dismay, you frown disapprovingly at him.

"You're lying. What's wrong?" You slide onto the bed and turn, his shirt riding up your thigh and revealing the shorts that hide beneath it as you scoot closer to him and attempt to peer at his screen. Kazutora notices just a tad too late and ends up shutting off his phone entirely. Unfortunately, you had already managed to catch a glimpse at a comment or two before the screen went black and it causes you to sigh.

"Pay them no mind. Everything they say is bullshit."

"Is that really true though?" This time, he's the one to sigh, "One comment--"

"They aren't true." And the tone of your voice alone manages to silence him immediately. The assertive, matter-of-fact tone left no room for talk back or any kind of verbal refutation and although he couldn't say it, his face spoke volumes of how much he disagreed with your statement.

"They hate me." He says after a while.

"Twitter hates everyone," You reply, "People on there would literally shit on the sky being blue if people'll listen."

'Yeah, but what they're saying about me isn't exactly wrong.." He stares down at his phone, almost cringing at the sight of his own reflection staring back at him, "I managed to embarrass you without even saying anything.."

"I don't think you embarrassed me." You retort immediately, "You looked great yesterday and said nothing that upset me."

"They think otherwise.." He mumbles dejectedly. He turns his phone back on but only has the chance to briefly read part of another tweet talking about his tattoo before you take his phone away from him.

"Who cares what they think?" You lightly toss his phone aside, "No matter what they say, it'll only be a shallow opinion at the end of the day. They know nothing about you, Kazutora, but I do. So please.."

Cupping his face, your eyes manage to find each other and lock despite the darkness that clouds your vision. You gaze at him. Hoping that the love you feel for him—and have felt for him for years now—would somehow make itself clear to him if you continued to stare. Alas, all you ended up doing was stare at him with scrunched brows for a little longer than necessary..

"..Believe me when I say this, 'Tora. You're beautiful both inside and out and I'm so incredibly happy that I can show you off to everyone and will continue to do so if you let me. I'm not ashamed at all about dating you and never will be. And do you know why? Because I'm hopelessly in love with you."

No more then a few moments pass before a tear finally slips and a small hiccup escapes him. Like a dam ready to burst, his body trembles and as you finally pull him up and your arms envelop him, he breaks down completely in your loving embrace. And you let him, smiling sadly as the love of your life crumbles before you.

Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest

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bearw-me · 1 month

Note

Absolutely loved that last Carmilla one you did. Could you do a Carmilla x g/n! reader angst turned fluff. Basically insecure/low self esteem reader starts doubting why Carmilla is dating them, they keep hearing what others say and start to think they don't deserve her, she finds out one day.

the angst! the romance! the carmilla hugs! (also ty! I'm glad you liked my writing enough to request something lol!)

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𐐒 includes : carmilla carmine x gender neutral! insecure! reader, zestial/ velvette/ overlords mentioned 𐐒 cw : angst, fluff, self-doubt, hurt/comfort, bullying reader?, hugs/cuddling, crying, reader and carmilla make-out whatt 𐐒 summary : You scroll for too long, obsessed with the idea that Hell is right. . . maybe you don't belong with Carmilla? But then again, she won't really let you go, no matter what anyone says. 𐐒 word count : 946 𐐒 note : just static in my head

You stared with a broken heart at your phone screen, the blue light casting an already darker shadow over your face as you stared at the headlines.

'Carmilla Carmine's New Love Affair?!'

You skimmed over the sub-headers, the bold texts shamelessly poking at you from head to toe, devouring your dignity in one fell swallow.

You groaned, letting your head thump against the cold tile of the kitchen counter.

Is that what they really thought about you? Is that what all of hell was saying? Carmilla. . . The thought summoned tears to your eyes.

Although it was extremely unhealthy to do so, and you thought better of it. You kept scrolling.

The V's, who basically ran the media within the Wraith ring were all talking about it, plastering your face next to hers in an attempt to tear you both down.

The feeling in your hands began to disappear, remembering with darkening vision how the overlords looked down at you like you were something to pity.

Something worth looking down on.

Especially when you stood next to her. . .

The deadliest arms dealer in all of hell.

Even Zestial? The doubt clouded your head like thick rain clouds. Maybe he thought you weren't good enough either. . . just gave you his blessing out of pity.

The way he looked at you, you remember, his shadowy features slumping whenever he turned his attention towards you.

You let the phone go, or maybe it shook out of your trembling hands?

A long, drawn out sigh fled your lungs, quickly replaced by a shaken breath.

At least the marble slab beneath your arms was cool, it felt good against your flushed skin.

Maybe I don't deserve her, the thought tore at your throat, pulling tightly until you couldn't help but let out a quiet sob.

How would you tell her? How would you just. . . let her go without all the questions and hurt?

"Is something wrong, mi corazón?"

You jumped, Carmilla's large hand encasing your quivering shoulders. You were so lost in your thoughts that you hadn't heard her come in.

"No! Nothing's wrong," you promised. . . unable to look her in the eyes.

"What's this?" She reached for your phone, the blue light flashing momentarily against her grey skin.

"Don't!" you insisted, grabbing the phone from her and practically smashing it onto the counter face down. "I was just- I was just reading something. . ." you tried.

"Why won't you look at me then?" Carmilla grabbed at your face, forcing you to look at her.

The way her eyes softened, a burning rage always locked behind them. . . and her beautiful hair was down. A soft cape draping around her figure and spilling over her shoulders.

You couldn't bear it.

The way she grit her teeth in worry. It felt like you didn't deserve it. Didn't deserve her.

You cried in her hands, closing your eyes so that you didn't have to see her reaction.

And she let you, bending down some to hug you close and tight, rubbing your back until all the pain had fled.

It was another couple of minutes until it felt like it was over, the silence encasing you as you sniffled, trying to hide the embarrassing sound in her skin.

"I know what troubles you these days, my love," she pulled away from the hug, able to properly hold eye contact with you.

You must've looked pathetic.

She smiled, the white fangs biting into her lower lip "How beautiful you are," she whispered, brushing the side of your face and feeling the heat beneath your skin.

"Come here, let's talk about it." Without another word, she lifted you up-for just a moment- and whisked down the quiet halls of her penthouse to the bedroom.

She took up the spot next to you, draping her leg over yours and pulling you closer "I know how you must feel," she stared, propping her head up with her hand, the other coming to rest behind your back. "I just want you to know that I love you, mi corazón, with all my heart. . . that is a promise I make to only a few."

She stroked your side, a bashful smile crawling over her her dark lips "Ay dios mio," she muttered, "You hold my heart like no other will."

The confession, no matter how little or how much you heard it from her, filled your chest with sunlight. A feeling of falling in love that you've felt a handful of times. . . but when it came from her. . . it was new again; and so overwhelming.

"Carmilla?"

Her eyebrows popped up in silent question, before you moved forward, taking her lips in yours. Warm and soft as she kissed you back. She let herself fall into your arms, grabbing at your neck for support while you cradled her head, breaking the kiss for just a moment so that you could pin her under you.

You relished in that split moment.

Carmilla laying beneath you, hair splayed out like a halo around her head, black lipstick smeared down and an evil, needy grin spreading across her face like she'd bite you.

But maybe that's what you wanted.

"I love you," you stated, the confidence in those three words- in the way she made you feel- was enough.

She laughed, a sexy little ringing in your ears that made your heart skip a beat. "Oh mi corazón, you make me feel young again." She pulled you down into her chest, smothering you in kisses, the two of you giggling like a pair of young lovebirds.

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cosmal · 1 year

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hi!! i’m pretty bad at requesting stuff but i was thinking about hurt/comfort with matt murdock or tasm!peter where fem!reader disassociates after being triggered by smth and he helps bring her back & comfort her. love ur work & no pressure<3

theatre

summary peter helps you when you disassociate at the movies.

content tasm!peterparker x fem!reader, disassociation

note I did my best I know it’s different for everyone x

The movie on the screen in front of you is suddenly loud. Crashing sounds and music that builds. You close your eyes for a moment and tense up in your seat.

Light splashes behind your eyelids in a flurry of blinding colours and you're not sure it's helping. You can feel yourself slipping.

When the music has stopped, you open your eyes and try your best to remember where you are. The film in front of you turns into a gaussian blur of dull colour that splashes down over your thighs and arms. You stare at your hands where you've got them fisted up in your lap. All things blue and green, dark where it disappears over the ligaments of your wrists.

Their voices come out all mumbled and quiet, like you've been submerged underwater. Words that stick together and sound like nonsense. You try your best to focus on them and it frustrates you that you can't understand anything. You can't break the surface to breathe.

You remember Peter's sitting next to you.

You turn and try for his arm. You rub your hand up and down the bare expanse of his skin — try to feel his hair and muscles. It might as well be someone else’s arm.

You feel him shift beside you. His voice comes in quick and unrecognisable. You can’t understand what he’s saying to you. His mouth a heat against your ear.

"Hey, you're okay," he breaks through and you bite down on your lip until it stings. He sounds like he's got his mouth stuffed with cotton.

You don't say anything and you don't think you can. Opening your mouth feels like an impossible task. Your tongue feels heavy, sticky with a dryness.

Peter tries for your hand and squeezes. It's a familiar strength that you lack. He's almost cruel about it.

You don't remember moving.

Suddenly the itchy seat is replaced by sturdy wood. Peter's hands are firm where he's got them on your shoulders. This time you think you know they're his hands.

"You're all right," he says and he's clearing up. "Come back to me."

You blink around and notice you're in the foyer. It's quieter, though that's not hard, the theatre was a cacophony of sounds that had you feeling dizzy. There are no flashing, burning lights. You focus on the sunlight that bleeds in through the door behind Peter, where it catches his locks of hair and makes him glow.

You try for familiar things. Like his hands on your shoulders, firm and heavy as he tries to ease you back into it. His cologne, the strong scent of cedarwood and clementines. The detergent on his sweater that you think might be yours.

You look down at his beat-up Converse and sigh. "Shit."

Peter knocks your chin with his knuckle to get you to look at him. He looks worried. Brows pinched and mouth downturned. He looks like he's chewed his bottom lip raw.

"That's it." His encouragement means more than he knows. It helps. A tether you find easy to grab onto.

You grab his wrist where he's still got his arms up at your shoulders and squeeze it roughly. You hope he doesn't mind it. "Sorry, god."

Peter frowns and holds your face. Each time he touches you it eases the numbness from your skin. Your face prickles with heat. "You're okay?" He ignores your apology and you don't blame him.

You laugh wetly and stand up on wobbly legs to get yourself in between his thighs. He worries for you for a moment but feels better when you lean all your weight into him and tuck your face into his neck, breathing him in.

He rubs and rubs and rubs up and down your back, all rumpled fabrics and warmth against your skin. "I'm okay," you tell him and only half believe it. You really only say it just to put him at ease,

You don't think he believes you. "You good to go home? Want me to order an Uber?"

You press your nose into the column of his throat. "Can we walk? Some fresh air might be nice."

"You sure?"

You pull back and look him in the face. Soft eyes and even softer smile. "Yeah."

Peter stands and takes your hand. You only feel mildly put out for missing the movie when he kisses the back of it. "Okay. Let me know if you're not up for it and I'll swing us home."

"I think if you swing me home I'll throw up."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

You lead him towards the exit, finally smiling. "You're a rough ride, Peter."

Peter laughs. "Don't you know it."

He's awful. You love him.

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 8 months

Text

Don't Speak 23

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: You know this man don't quit.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The movie ends but Andy doesn’t wake up. You daintily touch his shoulder again, gripping firmly as you try to shake him awake. Your legs are starting to tingle. You move your feet, trying to wake up your muscles. He’s snoring louder than before.

You squeak out his name. The panic clusters in your chest, your heart starting to race as your ribs ache. You’re trapped! You hate that feeling. The sort of claustrophobia you get on the bus or in most public spaces. Your body is so hot that your skin itches.

“Please, Andy,” you beg as you push on his shoulder, only managing to rock him, “please, wake up.”

You sit back as he doesn’t respond. Not the way you need him to. He doesn’t stir, doesn’t stop snoring. He only nestles into you closer, his hand slipping under your leg.

You let your head drop against the cushion. The credit music plays as you wallow in your predicament. You’ll just have to wait. He’ll get up eventually. The way he’s slumped over can’t be comfortable.

You deflate and drag your hand off his shoulder. You close your eyes, knowing you’re stuck there until he wakes. You can’t sleep like that. So you’ll sit and try not to combust.

The longer the wait, the slower time feels. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, then the wall, then the idle menu of the television. You can’t quite reach the remote so you sit there as the title cards for various new releases fade across the screen.

You’re so so tired but you can’t sleep like that. You put your hand on Andy’s shoulder again, feeling the muscle under your hand, the rise and fall as he takes slow breaths. You keep from trying to rouse him again. You feel too bad to do that. If he’s that tired, you’ll let him sleep.

Your head gets foggy as the screen times out and goes black on its own, the back light still glowing. You hear the wax bubble in the candle as the wick burns itself out and you sink into the cushions further. You let your eyes close again, lingering in your incapacitation but unable to succumb to it.

The hours skew by and you see the night roll into morning through the window. It’s beautiful despite the pounding in your temples. Your body aches and your head thrums. Andy sleeps on, his breath lending a soothing rhythm to the silence.

The sky lightens gradually through the pane, deep navy fading to swathes of violet and rose, finally revealing a bright blue. You feel Andy shift as a groan escapes his lips. He drags his hand out from under your leg and you tense. He rubs his nose before pushing his fingers back through his hair.

“Dove,” his voice creaks dryly, “I’m sorry–” he coughs hoarsely, “I must’ve–” He grips the edge of the cushion and tries to push himself up, only to keel over again. He grunts and reaches back to grasp his lower back, “shit– sorry, I… I think I hurt my back.”

“What?” You murmur with a tinge of panic, “you’re hurt?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he plants his hand flat and snarls as he forces himself up, falling back limp against the couch, “I pulled a muscle… sleeping like that–” he blows out as he tries to sit up, only to cry out, “I… you could’ve woke me up–”

“I… tried,” you utter, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t–”

“Hmm,” he rubs his neck and winces, “yeah, I’m a heavy sleeper…” he lets his hand trail down the front of his shirt, “you… you sat here all night?”

You look at him. You don’t want to make him feel any worse than he already does. You don’t mention that you couldn’t move him and leaving wasn’t a choice. Not as the pain needles between his brows, stitching a line between them.

“Can I… help?” You offer.

You slide forward, your own muscles racked from the tense hours of your confinement. Still, you can move through the slight burning in your thighs and the tightness in your back. You stand carefully, stretching your arms high above you. Andy watches you, his head resting against the couch.

“I don’t know,” he puffs as he puts a hand behind him, “maybe… some ice?”

“Oh, alright,” you step back on your heel, “I can do that.”

You go into the kitchen and open the freezer. You shiver as you lean in, searching for an ice pack or maybe a tray. You find an ice bag and grab it along with a dish cloth and bring it back to Andy. You find him leaning against the armrest, his face contorted in agony.

“Sweetie,” he huffs, “help me.”

You don’t know what to do except what he tells you. You didn’t expect this but you suppose this happens as you get older. You’ve woken up with a crick in your neck and it’s never pleasant.

You put the ice bag on his stomach and lift his legs up onto the end of the couch. You put a pillow behind him and help him reposition himself before you put the ice beneath his shoulder. He closes his eyes and groans again.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, “I never wanted you to see me like this.”

“What?” You stand back, wringing your hands as he folds an arm over his chest. “Does this happen a lot?’

“Once in a while… usually stress…” he admits and tries to turn his head, only to yelp and stop. “Dove, please, I don’t want you to see this.”

Stress? Does he mean you stress him out?

“But… you need help,” you cross your arms, “and I’m the only one here so…”

He frowns. You aren’t sure what to do but you feel awful just letting him suffer, even if he’s embarrassed. He doesn’t need to be. Besides, he saw you at your worst and he didn’t just abandon you. You owe him this.

You reach over him and pull down the throw blanket from the back of the couch. You spread it over him as he opens his eyes. You sense him watch you as you stand straight and chew your lip.

“You… you don’t have to take care of me,” he rasps.

“You need me to,” you shrug and look around, “um… should I… should I make coffee or… something?”

“That would be so nice, honey,” he says softly, “thank you.”

“Yeah,” you back away and turn on your heel, “of course.”

You go into the kitchen and rub your eyes. You’re so tired. You could fall over right there but you can’t. You’re not helpless anymore, but he is. Maybe you need this, to learn how to be the strong one.

🕊️

Andy doesn’t seem to get any better. The ice pack melts and you put it back in the freezer. You’re worried. He’s too big for you to move and you can’t drive.

“Um, Andy,” you enter the living room as he stares dully at the television. The tension hasn’t left his cheek, “should I… call someone? Or an ambulance?”

He laughs but not for long as he grunts and once more braces his back. He shakes his head and tries to roll out the pain. He only grimaces and wriggles as he tries to get comfortable.

“No, it’s fine. It’ll go away, I just need… rest,” he collapses against the pillows, “honey, I got some pills. Up in the medicine cabinet. Muscle relaxers, they can help.”

“Oh, uh, okay?”

“Will you go get them for me?” He asks, resting his hand on his chest, “they’ll be with a white tube with a blue logo. Can you get that too?”

“Sure, I can do that,” you affirm, repeating the statement like a mantra, “I can do it.”

You scurry around the couch and hurry up the stairs. Your worry has chased away your own fatigue and the soreness in your muscles has receded to a tolerable ache. You go to the bathroom and ignore your reflection as you pop open the medicine cabinet.

You turn several bottles and find the muscle relaxers. You pause and look over as a red flash beams in the corner of your eye. The shower speaker flickers. Maybe the battery is low? You don’t think about it as you grab the pill bottle and the tube close to it.

You swing shut the door and leave the bathroom. You catch yourself against the banister as you descend the stairs, nearly tripping as a yawn forces its way from your throat. The bottle rattles as you enter the living room.

“I’ll get you some water,” you say as you put down the handful on the coffee table, "one second.”

You go to the kitchen and fill a glass from the fridge filter. You return and offer Andy the glass and the bottle of pills. He thanks you as you turn to look at the coffee table. The tray is still there with the candy and half-finished bottles of soda.

“I’ll clean this up.”

You lift it and take it with you to the kitchen. You take your time clearing it off. You transfer the candy into containers and baggies, sealing them up and put the chips in a ziploc to keep them from getting stale. You hear Andy moaning and grumbling.

You enter the living room again. He holds the tube, staring at it as he turns it in his hands. His eyes flick up and back down. He teethes his lip, a nervous slant to his mouth.

“Dove, I… can I ask you a favour?” He says, so quietly you can barely hear him.

“Um, yeah, of course,” you step out of the doorway.

“I… I can’t reach,” he raises the tube, “it’s supposed to help but I can’t… can’t put it on myself.”

You blink. Oh. Oh. Does that mean you have to touch him? You can’t help but let your eyes round.

“I understand if you don’t want to, once the pills kick in, they should knock me out long enough to forget the pain,” his shoulders slouch, “yeah, forget it.”

He tosses the tube back on the table, letting out a high-pitched noise. You feel a twinge in your chest. You don’t like seeing people in pain. You remember when Amber broke her wrist and cried every night.. That was so long ago but you can still hear her whimpers.

“I can do it,” you wisp as you come forward and take the tube.

Your hands shake as Andy watches you. His gaze weighs heavy as you feel every move you make is scrutinized. You raise your head and look at him.

“Help me sit up,” he reaches to you with one arm.

You near and bend, letting him wrap his arm around your shoulders and neck. You use all your might to pull him up, feeling him quake with the effort. He sits up and you slowly retreat. You focus on popping open the cap.

“My shirt…” he croaks.

You peek up at him and make a face. Oh. Oh, that makes sense.

You put the cream on the armrest and step forward. He leans in as you do and you help him roll up the bottom of his sweatshirt. You angle the fabric over his head as he struggles to get his arms higher than that. As you guide the shirt down his arms, you realise he has nothing underneath. You don’t know why you thought he might have an undershirt.

“Ugh, thank you so much,” he whines, tweaking your pity once more.

“It’s fine,” you murmur.

You glance at him and sway, unsure of how to do this. You realise you have to get behind him as he leans away from the pillows. You sit on the edge of the cushion as you retrieve the tube and squirt out some of the cream into your palm.

You stop and stare at his back. His shoulders are broad and straight, muscles bound beneath his skin, moles speckled here and there. You hover your hand, unsure what to do next.

“Just under my left shoulder, up along the blade,” he directs, pausing as you stare dumbly, “please, honey, it hurts.”

You make yourself touch him. You press your hand to his back and push it along the line of his shoulder blade. He groans and bends forward. You retract your hand.

“Sorry! Did it hurt?”

“No, no, keep going,” he insists sharply, “please.”

“But… I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s gonna hurt but it’ll make me feel better,” he says, “please, sweetie, don’t you want me to feel better?”

You nod even though he can’t see it. You touch him again, his warmth adding to that of the cream as you spread it over his skin. Your breath catches as you hear something, a hum, a purr. You can feel the rumble in his as work at rubbing the lotion until it absorbs.

“That’s good, honey,” he says, “so good.”

You put the cap on the tube and stand. You look at your hand, the smell of the cream is strong enough to make your eyes water. Andy falls back, not bothering to put his shirt back on.

“I’ll wash this off,” you show your palm.

He doesn’t answer as he closes his eyes. You leave him and wash off the lotion, drying your hand thoroughly, though the scent of the cream clings. Back in the living room, you find Andy as you left him.

You don’t know if you should do anything else. You peer over at the broad archway that leads into the hallway. He needs sleep, right?

“Thank you, honey,” he startles you, “for looking after me.”

“Er, your welcome,” you say, “I… should I…”

“Will you sit with me?” He plants his elbow and grunts as he strains to move himself onto his side, patting the space before him, “please.”

“Oh, uh…” you hesitate.

“I don’t want to be alone,” he says, “please, dove.”

Another pluck deep in your chest. It’s your fault. You let him sleep all night like that. You weren’t strong enough, not loud enough. Once more your fear kept you from doing the right thing.

“Sure,” you shuffle forward and turn, awkwardly lowering yourself in front of his stomach.

He drops his arm to drape in front of you, resting in your lap as he nestles into the cushions. His other hand brushes your side and stays there. He squeezes you against him, pulling you snug.

You stare at the television, watching as a man works on refinishing a counter with laminate. You can do nothing else as you sit frozen in his embrace. Encased in ice despite the blaze of heat rising from him.

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #library au #don't speak #defending jacob

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