#please note the trigger warning for a reason - again it has nothing to do with the main characters but it does get mentioned | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

potatoplace · 1 month

Text

loml

Azriel x Reader

my tears ricochet (part 2)

Story Summary: You met Azriel nearly six years ago. Your mate. The one person you want to spend the rest of your life with. While the bond has not been fully accepted due to safety concerns, the two of you live a blissful life, regardless of the anxieties that plague you. But, what if they turned out to be true...?

Warnings: Suicide, angst, infidelity, anxiety/self worth issues, references to sex (nothing explicit)

Words: ~5.7k

Author's Note: dun dun. It has arrived! Please make sure to read the warnings, and skip this one if it'll trigger you too much. I am very happy with how it turned out, I hope you all enjoy as well. *slides tissues over to you* Here are some in case you need them...

18+ only pls

💙🤍💙🩷💙

You were walking home from the Palace of Bone and Salt, grocery bags loaded in your arms, when you saw him- your mate. The bond snapped for you the moment you looked up from the cobblestones and met his gaze, his hazel eyes so intense, you knew it had snapped for him too.

Almost in a trance, the two of you walked towards each other meeting in the middle of the street, his night chilled mist and cedar scent washing over you.

An awkward pause, then with his massive, hulking wings, he lifted into the air, taking off in flight.

Away from you…

Your mate didn’t want you. You could feel the thread, tethering you to him even when you could no longer see him in the sky. Tears filled your eyes, and you began to speed walk home, wanting nothing more than to crawl into your bed and wallow in your misery.

And you did just that for three days, only leaving once to inform the owner of the shop you work at that you would not be in for the rest of the week.

Which had given you three days to ruminate, seeing as it had been Wednesday when the male had left your life as quickly as he had entered it.

You had gone over every possible reason as to why he might not want you.

First was the obvious, your appearance. While you had dressed nicely, in a cute, lilac sundress, you had forgone any makeup and doing your hair, aside from brushing it. Perhaps that was what sent him running, you never were one to see the beauty in yourself, why should your mate? Or maybe it was your scent, rain and apples, that had repulsed him so.

And if it wasn’t anything physical… Could he have already sensed how plagued by anxieties you are? Decided you were not even worth the trouble of introductions, or getting to know in the slightest bit.

Maybe he had a lover already, one he’d been with for decades. Or he never wanted a mate, never wanted to be tied down in such a permanent manner.

The list went on. Most of them about how you were unfit to be anyone’s mate, unworthy of being gifted something so rare.

Two weeks after you had returned to work, two weeks since a scent had been stuck in your brain, haunting your every waking moment, the male it belonged to showed up on your doorstep an hour after you had come home from your shift.

“I’m sorry,” he started as soon as you opened the door, leaning against the doorframe and blocking the inside from view. “I was a coward, and left before we could truly meet. My name is Azriel. What is yours, if you will allow me to know?”

Azriel. The Spymaster of the High Lord, so high above your ranking. Of course you aren’t worthy of him, you thought to yourself.

You tell him your name, and he repeated it with a soft smile, the sound of your name spilling from his lips something more sensual and intimate than you thought it ever could be, and you barely know the man.

Azriel, your heart supplied, repeating it over and over again, working it into your heartbeat so easily and perfectly, you knew that if he breaks the bond, you will be damaged beyond the limits of what you thought possible before.

But still, you need to know.

“Why did you come back?” You ask, almost dreading the answer.

Azriel looked you in the eyes and said with the utmost sincerity, “I would like to get to know you, Y/N.”

Instantly, a smile spread across your face, and you step back, opening the door wider to let him in. “I would like that as well, Azriel. You can come inside, if you’d like,” you offered, color rising to your cheeks.

He nodded his head, and stepped inside.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

5 Years Later

You awoke from a peaceful sleep, as you always do when Azriel is home.

Something about his scent, night chilled mist and cedar and oh, so perfect, set you at ease, soothing the anxieties that normally plague you throughout the day.

You rolled over, arms reaching for the warm body next to you, only to be met by cold sheets and empty space. A frown covered your face, and you rubbed your eyes.

It wasn’t uncommon for Azriel to slip away in the middle of the night, called away for his duties for the Night Court.

You were, however, hoping to wake up to your mate today, as the dawn had marked the fifth year since you had met- well, formally met, that is, knowing more about him than his scent and Illyrian heritage.

But, alas, matters of security were more important. You understand it well, knowing that is the reason he hasn’t accepted the bond yet, as happy as you are together.

That was one fear of yours that had come to fruition.

The lack of a permanent, unbreakable tether between you bothered you, yes, but knowing Azriel’s reasoning, and that it is not a permanent thing, made it bearable, worth the fears that sometime crept into your brain.

“Why won’t you accept the bond, already?” You ask, throwing your hands in the air, aggressive towards Azriel for the first time in your relationship. “It’s been a year, Azriel, what exactly is the hold up?!”

“I want to accept the bond!” He yelled back at you, anger lacing his tone. “But I have worried, every day of knowing you, that you could be stolen away from me, used against me in a sick game! I am terrified that I will wake up one day, and you will have been murdered in cold blood as a warning to this court! I do not want to lose you, Y/N! I do not want the reason for you to be harmed to be that I carry your scent no matter how long I’ve been away from you, until I know that you will be safe,” he finished, considerably more calm after having finally let you know his reasoning.

“And when will that be?” You seethed, a storm brewing under your skin. You may not have much magic, much power like your mate, but the electricity you can wield was begging to be let out.

Azriel sighed, taking his head in his hands. “I don’t know, babydoll. But I promise to you, within the decade, we will be fully mated, if you will still have me, knowing how much danger there is lurking around the corner,” he offered gently, attempting to placate you, and your dropped your hands back to your sides, rage leaving your body with each word coming from his lips. “I love you, so much it feels impossible to explain, but every day I will try my best to let you know the depth of my love for you, my sweet mate. If you will have me,” he finished, walking over to you and grabbing your hands gently.

You bit your lip, squeezing his hands tightly.

“Within the decade…? You promise?” You ask, glancing up at him through tear filled eyes.

“I promise to you, we will have a formal ceremony and party, and have the most wonderful, blissful frenzy, and be forever connected within ten years. You are the love of my life, babydoll.”

At his reassurance, you tilt your head up and kiss him softly, and after a moment Azriel deepened the kiss, coaxing you toward your shared bed.

You look to the bedside table, smiling when you see the folded piece of parchment resting there, your name written in Azriel’s elegant handwriting, as well as beautiful bouquet of roses, dark blue and a pale yellow in color.

“My love, I am sorry I had to leave in the middle of the night, on such an important day for the both of us, but Rhys requires my presence in the Hewn City for a few hours. I hope to be back before you wake, but in case I am not, I have prepared some coffee for you in your enchanted mug, and next to it is something I picked out for you to read until I return. I love you more than my shadows, more than my wings my dear. I think of you in every moment, every breath I take is for you. I will see you for breakfast, my mate.”

Your smile only grew as you read, your mate is such a thoughtful male. In the four years since you agreed to wait to be mated, he had, without fail, assured you of his love, either through notes he sent to you by shadows, or in person.

You sighed in contentment, and stretched before getting out of your bed, walking over to the bouquet and sniffing it, loving the gentle fragrance they emitted. You then threw on a dressing gown and padded into the kitchen, immediately catching sight of your pretty, dark blue mug that matched Azriel’s siphons, and book laying next to it.

You grabbed both and made for the cushioned bench in the bay window that faced the street, and settled in. Seeing the title of the book and author’s name, Faren Grey, you squealed in excitement. A mystery by him that you hadn’t read before! You eagerly began reading, occasionally sipping your coffee, a delicious mocha, until your mate walked in when you seventy pages in.

You instantly set your mug and book down and bounded over to him, flinging yourself into his open arms.

“Hello, babydoll.”

“Hello, honey,” you say, leaning up to kiss him. He doesn’t disappoint, meeting you halfway in a heated kiss. “I absolutey love the book! Where did you find it?!”

“I might have visited his house a few weeks ago to ask if I could have an advance copy of his newest work,” he admitted with a sheepish smile.

He is so cute. “Thank you, you are such an amazing mate! I love you.” You hugged him tighter as you said it, loving the way his arms squeezed you into him further as you did.

“I love you too, babydoll. Come on, let’s go get ready for a late brunch,” he dragged you back into your bedroom, right into the bathroom. He removed your silver dressing gown first, hanging it on one of the hooks on the wall. Next, he removed your soft, baby blue nightgown, leaving you in just the underwear matching it. He leaned around the corner and tossed it into your laundry bin, then turned back to you.

You were blushing, your nipples hardening in the cool air of the bathroom. He kneeled before you and hooked his fingers in the band of your underwear, slowly pulling them off your hips and down your legs. He tapped your left foot, coaxing you to lift it up. You did, then he repeated the action with the right foot. Once they were off, he dropped them onto the floor. He lowered his mouth to your navel, slowly kissing a trail down to the apex of your thighs.

He tapped your legs and you parted them, and he went to lick a stripe up your center-

Your stomach rumbled.

Both of you laughed, locking eyes.

“After breakfast?” You suggested, your tone full of mirth.

“That sounds like a good plan, babydoll,” he laughed, rising to his feet. You undressed him quickly, your goal clear now: bathe as quickly as the two of you could manage without… wasting time… have a lovely breakfast, then come home and devour each other as dessert.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

A few hours later, you laid with your head on Az’s chest, listening to his deep, rhythmic breathing and hypnotic heartbeat. You could almost hear your name, beating in his chest.

“I made dinner reservations at Sevenda’s,” you whisper into his skin, knowing he’ll hear you no matter how quietly you say it.

“My favorite,” he sighs into your hair. “What time?”

“Seven o’clock. I figure we can take a nice walk along the Sidra, then pop into a store to pick up your gift before dinner,” you suggest, running your hand along his chest.

“That sounds wonderful, Y/N.” He smoothed his hands over your back, tracing his fingers along your spine. “What should we do in the meantime?”

You grinned, lifting your head to look at him. “I can think of a few things…” you said, trailing your hand down his abdomen.

“Oh, yeah? Why don’t you show me, babydoll?” He smirked down at you, trouble in his eyes.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

A few rounds later and after another bath, more leisurely and filled with soft, heated touches than the first, and the two of you were dressed and walking out of your door in the direction of the Sidra.

A worry that had been plaguing you recently came to mind as you looked out at the beauty of the river, Az’s hand clutched in yours. The High Lady, Feyre, had gifted you a painting last Starfall, given to you via Azriel. It was of the Sidra at night, your silhouette watching the stars above. You remembered the moment well, it was the night that you and Az had made it official and he had moved into your house. You had taken a walk along the Sidra, much like the one you were taking now, when a comet had flown overhead, and you watched with rapt attention, making a wish, that you and Az would be together forever.

So far that wish has come true, so, wonderfully true.

It wasn’t the painting that had bothered you, it was the fact that your mate has a family, but five years into your relationship, you had never met one of them, as far as you were aware.

“Why…” you hesitated, unsure if you should ask. But you needed to know, know if he was hiding you and ashamed of you. “Why haven’t I met your family yet?”

Az’s footsteps faltered for a moment. “I didn’t know that you wanted to meet them.”

“I’d like to, if that’s okay. It would be nice to know the people that you’ve talked so much about, put some names to faces.”

Azriel stopped, and as he still had a grip on your hand, you came to a halt in front of him, the turned to face him. “I’ll mention it to them before the next family dinner, make sure to save a spot for my lovely mate,” he said, punctuating it with a kiss.

“That sounds fine to me, Az. Now, let’s go get your gift,” you declared, pulling him by the hand towards the Palace of Thread and Jewels. In just a few minutes, you had arrived outside of a small, rundown shop. You pushed the door open, a bell jingling and alerting the shop owner to your presence.

“Ah, the beautiful Y/N, here to pick up your custom order, I presume?” He asked, already turning to the counter behind him to retrieve the dagger you had designed for Azriel.

“Yes please, Oswald. You can even present it to the Shadowsinger himself, I know how excited you were to learn it was for him,” you add, a teasing tone in your voice. You had no problem poking fun at him, having spent so much time with the male. You had given him over ten drafts of the dagger’s design, plus the two of you searching together for the perfect gems to go in the hilt and along the guard. You also had him make a special holster for the curved blade, wanting to make sure Azriel has everything he needs for it.

The older male brought it over, wrapped in a cloth to keep it a surprise.

“Happy anniversary, Azriel,” you said, pushing the gift towards him. He lifted the edges of the cloth, revealing the beautiful silver dagger with glittering sapphires and diamonds decorating it, and a wickedly curved end to the blade. The holster was beautiful as well, made of a pitch black leather, fire and tear proofed with an enchantment.

“It’s amazing, Y/N,” he said before hugging you, lifting you up and spinning you in a circle. You picked up the holster and fastened it around his waist, underneath the jacket he was wearing. “I love you so much, babydoll. Let’s go get dinner.”

“Thank you, Oswald. I’ll come again soon, I promise,” you said as Azriel led you out of the shop, a hand on your back guiding you all the way to Sevenda’s. The two of you had a delicious meal, and returned home to watch the stars on your patio. You drifted in his arms on the swing, his scent and heartbeat making you so comfortable you couldn’t help but drift off.

💙🤍💙🩷💙

About a week later on a Friday, you were going to your first ever family dinner with Azriel. You were nervous as could be, Azriel’s hand rubbing circles on your back doing little to calm your gut as you walked to the High Lord and Lady’s townhouse.

“Babydoll, they will love you. I promise. Just remember, not too many relationship details, or any kissing, I share everything about my life with this lot, no need to share all of you with them as well, my sweet mate.”

You nodded your head, still mildly uncomfortable with the thought of being unable to kiss him during their time here, but understanding that he isn’t one for public displays of affection made you agree to the plan. It was only in the last year that his soft kisses and loving hugs began to happen outside of the four walls of your shared home.

Still, even with the nerves, you were ready and excited to meet his family.

All too soon, the two of you approached the door of a cozy looking townhouse, a lovely looking garden attached in the back. Azriel raised his hand to twist the doorknob, but paused to look at you, a broad smile on his face. “You ready?” He asked gently, and you nodded in confirmation. He swung the door open, entering and pulling you inside by the hand, not giving you an opportunity to bolt, if the urge struck you.

The inside was absolutely lovely, decorated in a cozy fashion and looking well lived in. He pulled you further inside, and you passed a small sitting room before stopping in the dining room, people milling about while they set the table, or relaxed on the couches in the attached living room.

“Ah, you must be Y/N!” One of the females said, her soft lilac and pear scent washing over you pleasantly. “I’m Feyre, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!” She exclaimed happily, extending her hands to you, grasping yours in them, and Azriel walked off to say hello to one of the males in the kitchen, probably Cassian, if the large wings and dark red shirt he was wearing were any indicator.

“It’s wonderful to meet you as well, High Lady,” you say, anxiety running through you as you thought of the proper way to greet her, but she interrupted your thoughts quickly.

“Oh, none of that, you are welcome to call me Feyre,” she replied, her voice sweet and reassuring. “You are a part of our family, after all.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding left you, the relief pouring into your veins. “Oh, we’ll then it’s very nice to meet you, Feyre. Azriel has told me so much about all of you, it will be nice to finally put faces to the names.”

“Ah, yes. I suppose some introductions are in order, hmm?” She asked, leading you over to the living room.

Everyone was so kind to you, and happy to finally meet you as well.

The one person you were most excited to meet, however, was Azriel’s best friend, Elain. And when you finally did, the breath left your lungs again as her beauty overtook you. She was classically beautiful, her delicate features and even more delicate frame a perfect combination to make one of the most stunning fae you had ever seen. Her jasmine and honey scent complimented her perfectly, and you almost through you had met her before based on her scent alone- but you knew you could never have forgotten a face such as hers.

“Y/N, it’s so nice to finally meet you, Az talks about you so much to me.” Her face held a sweet smile, and her eyes were full of warmth as she looked over you. “I’d love to have tea with you some other time, if you’re open to it.”

You nodded your head immediately, hoping beyond hope that you would finally have a friend outside of your coworkers, who, while lovely, you sometimes wanted a break from to not discuss work. “I would love that, Elain. Sometime soon, I hope?”

She nodded her head, saying “Yes, would next Wednesday work for you? We could meet here or at a café, if you’d like.”

“The café next to the Sidra in the Palace of Bone and Salt has a wonderful selection, if that works for you,” you suggest, internally celebrating when she nods her head again.

“That sounds like a wonderful time, it’s a date.” And with that, she walked away from you to continue setting up the table, now filled with various dishes that all smelled heavenly.

The dinner passed quickly, your undercurrent of anxiety constantly soothed by Az’s shadows caressing your legs and pooling around your ankles. It was nice to see him interact with them, see how they brought out different facets of his personality than you usually do. Especially Elain, they made little jokes between them every now and then, snickering softly to themselves.

Everyone was kind to you, yes, but you still felt… you still feel like you stick out, as though you don’t belong. Here you are, sitting among some of the most powerful fae, nothing but a shop clerk with a mild amount of lighting magic running through your veins.

Of course you couldn’t help but feel like you’re only here because of your bond to Az, because, well, you are.

Someone like you would never have earned themselves an invitation to the High Lord and Lady’s residence, let alone eat a fantastic, amicable meal with them without the tear between you and Azriel. Maybe that was why he had waited so long to introduce you to them. He already knows how inferior you feel to him, your self-worth making you feel like the Mother had made a mistake in pairing you together, as ecstatic as you are to be bonded to him. He probably doesn’t want you to feel any lesser.

Your thoughts continued like that through dessert, no amount of Azriel’s shadows’ touches soothing you now. What you need was a hug from your mate, maybe even just a peck on the cheeks.

But you could wait. You could wait until the two of you are retreating back to your home or have the affection you crave from your mate, if that will keep him comfortable.

So you do, attempting to do subtle breathing exercises to calm your mind. It helps a little, but it isn’t until you’re in the cooling air of Velaris that you begin to settle.

“Do you think they liked me?” You ask in a small voice as the two of you continue your leisurely pace back home.

“Of course, babydoll. What’s not to love?”

You exhale heavily, sleepiness crashing into your bones after being worried for so long. “Nothing, you just know how… you know how I struggle sometimes, being so plain in comparison to you.”

Azriel halted in his movements, and you turned to look at him.

“Nothing about you is plain, or simple. I love you for who you are, and the force of your love is more than enough to topple armies, my love. You are extraordinary,” he proclaims, wrapping you tightly in his arms for a few moments. You gently push away to look up at him, and he places a sweet kiss upon your lips.

“If you say so, mate,” you reply, and kiss him once more before pulling him back into motion.

“And I do, mate. You will always be the one true love of my life.”

💙🤍💙🩷💙

It had been five months since that first family dinner, you had attended one more since then.

You and Elain had become fast friends, bonding over your shared interest in medicinal herbs and plants, as well as your love for a good tea blend.

The rest of the family, however… Not matter what Azriel said, no matter how he reassured you, you couldn’t help but feel as though they did not care for your presence.

Hence the one other family dinner. It had felt awkward enough for you that you had told Azriel to go to them alone, unless he desperately wanted you there that evening. It was fine by you, you stayed home and curled up with another mystery novel in the window, waiting for Az to return and fill you in on the latest drama among his family.

Today, however you were at the Feyre and Rhys’s townhouse door, arms overloaded with the bags you were carrying.

On your hips and over your dress was a knife belt, tightened as far as it could go, one that you had designed specially for him, filled with five knives that you had Oswald design. Your only request for Oswald had been to have your and Azriel’s first initials carved into the blades. No last names, just to be safe in case one got left behind on a mission somehow. They were lovely throwing knives, simple and sleek in design.

You had been planning this day for a couple of months now, asking Elain for her input on how to surprise Azriel.

“Do something simple, like a practical gift and breakfast in bed,” Elain suggested over the rim of her tea cup.

“I already have the gift lined up, I’m having a throwing knife belt designed for him,” you said, sighing after you did. “But I’ve always done breakfast in bed for his birthday…” you trail off. It was his 555th birthday, and you wanted to do something different, more special than before.

“Hmm…” Elain hummed, before gasping. “Oh, you could tell him to stay at the townhouse the night before, saying you’re getting something ready at your house for him the night before, then surprise him with breakfast there!”

You bit your lip, unsure of the plan. But, it was something different… “I suppose I could do that, but do you really think he’d go along with that?”

“Of course!” Elain exclaimed, setting one of her hands over yours. “Azriel will do whatever you ask, especially if you seem excited about it.”

You considered her words, the nodded your head, accepting the plan.

So, here you are, standing in front of the townhouse on Azriel’s birthday at eight in the morning. You knocked on the door, careful not to jostle the parcels in your arms too much.

In them, you were carrying a bag holding five of Azriel’s favorite pastries from the café the two of you had gone to on your first date, a bag filled with all his favorite lingerie, and one other small bag. Inside of it was a sapphire blue ring box, containing a pair of rings.

Today, you were planning to propose to Azriel.

Five years into your mateship, and with no bond acceptance likely for the next six, you wanted to move forward somehow. You wanted to be able to call him yours permanently, even if just through a wedding ceremony and vow.

You had matching silver rings made, each inlaid with a small sapphire. Simple but beautiful, just as Azriel would want. Something to mark the two of you as each other’s.

Feyre answered the door.

“Oh, hello Y/N,” she said brightly. “What can I help you with?”

“I’m here to surprise Azriel for his birthday,” you say excitedly, joy bubbling through you.

“Ah, come in,” Feyre says, opening the door further and welcoming you in. “His room is just down the hall, first one on the left Y/N.”

“Thank you.” You move in the direction she pointed to quickly, not wanting to waste another second of this day without your mate. You reached his door and turned the knob without hesitation.

You wished you had knocked.

Because, in that moment, your world ended.

The smell of sex slammed you in the face, and you dropped the bags in your arms to the ground, for on the bed in front of you, Azriel was still slamming into a female, his pace only faltering when you gasped in horror.

Underneath him- you couldn’t believe it. Could not believe your eyes nor your nose, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar mixed so thoroughly with jasmine and honey that your stomach turned.

Underneath him was Elain.

His best friend.

Your friend.

Your mate.

You turned on the spot, booking it for the door to the garden.

You vomited when you saw it.

Every flower of every bouquet he had ever given you had a match in this garden. The dark blue and pale yellow roses he had gifted to you on your fifth anniversary were there. The beautiful white lilies, blush pink roses, carnations- all of them had come from here.

“What’s happened, Y/N?” Came a voice from behind you, and you turned to look at Feyre.

“Azriel and Elain…” you started your voice trialing off as you choked up with tears.

“Oh, were they going at it?” She asked while wrinkling her nose, and you balked at her.

“You… you knew?” Your voice came out quietly, filled with sorrow and betrayal.

Feyre’s face scrunched in confusion. “Azriel and Elain have been together the past fifteen years, Y/N,” she said, and your heart broke further.

“I… what?”

“Azriel said that you knew,” Feyre said softly.

“He… he said that I knew… that he was cheating on me… with Elain?” You ask slowly, so hurt that you could barely process her words.

Feyre shook her head, “He can’t cheat on you if you aren’t together,” she finished plainly.

“WE ARE TOGETHER!” You screamed at her, lightning rising to your skin. “WE HAVE BEEN TOGETHER OVER FIVE YEARS!”

“Oh… um… Azriel had told us that you were better suited to be friends, if I had known you were together I would have… warned you,” Feyre said, obviously unsure of what to do, holding her hands up in front of her chest.

You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care for these people, for these fake friends who knew what they were doing. You took off running, jumping the fence bordering the garden of lies, and got home in record time.

You hadn’t noticed Azriel’s shadows wrapped around you until you had slammed the front door of your home shut. They were frantic, wrapping around all of you in an attempt to calm you.

It had the opposite effect.

“Get off of me!” You shouted at them, shaking them off of your body, scattering them to the corners of the room. You couldn’t bear the thought of him, even his shadows touching you now.

You could not believe what had just happened. You did not want to believe that your entire relationship with Azriel had been a lie.

You rushed to your bedroom, ripping through the nightstand on your side of the bed and pulling out the hundreds upon hundreds of notes.

Azriel had left you one every day, having never broken his promise to proclaim his love for you every day for four years.

All of it was ruined, now.

You collected them in your arms and ran back into the living room, igniting the fireplace with the lightning under your skin, and tossed them in. You watched them burn for a few minutes, tears pouring out of your eyes.

Everything… every word had been a lie.

All of his reassurances that you were worthy of him, that you would be mated fully soon, were fakes.

Every action he had taken was covering up something that would destroy you, had destroyed you.

You know now, that when you had first met Elain, you did recognize her scent. It covered Azriel so regularly, you had thought it was simply something to do with being the court’s Spymaster.

But you knew now. You knew that nearly every night when he came home to you, he had been with her. All of those times being called away in the middle of the night, he had left your bed and slid into hers.

And she had pretended to be your friend, Mother, she had probably intended for you to find them wrapped up in each other today.

All of your fears were correct.

You aren’t good enough.

You aren’t worthy.

And now, you don’t even have anything to live for.

The love of your life… and he couldn’t even have bothered to stop fucking her to at least give some reasoning for his despicable actions. You could still feel him through the bond, pleasure coursing through him and you vomited again, everything about it is sickening.

You look down to the belt of daggers, still hanging from your waist, so thoughtfully made for him.

You fingered one of them, pulling it out gently.

If you have nothing to live for… if the love of your life couldn’t even be bothered to care for you… what was the point?

The shadows were back now, frantically attempting to pull the knife from your grip.

If Azriel were here… well, he’d always been stronger than you. He could stop you. The shadows on their own, however…

You raised the knife to your neck, taking a breath as it rested there.

Clean and quick, then you’ll be free from the pain. Just one movement. Just one cut, and it will all be over.

And in the next moment, you were on the floor, life flowing from your neck, the shadows pressing on the gash in a futile attempt to stop it, managing nothing more than adding an extra minute to your life.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and the last thing you wanted to see before you leave this earth… a pair of hazel eyes came to mind.

The love of your life, for so many years.

The loss of your life, in the end.

#loml #azriel x reader #azriel #acotar x reader #angst #tw suicide #acotar #acotar fic #acotar fanfic #azriel angst #azriel x reader angst #azriel acotar #tato writes

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obbystars · 2 months

Note

Hi- it's my first time ever requesting so sorry if it's hard to understand-

Could you please write a fic where the reader is somehow allowed to bring an ipod because it helps them calm down. When they reach Sebastian he just hears the music through the earphones which is something that he used to listen to before going under water-.

And it could be fluff or some ?

I'm sorry if this comes off weird but I always struggle when it comes to explaining my ideas 😭 (also English is not my first language ಥ⁠‿⁠ಥ)

Hope you have a nice day/evening/night when you read this!

(Hey! No worries! Don’t worry, I think I’ve got the idea and I totally get not knowing how to explain stuff. Huh, perhaps it’s luck that they managed to sneak or even snag an ipod off of a guardsman’s body. That seems like the most probable as I doubt Urbanshade would let a prisoner bring that in. But then again, it’s not a weapon. It doesn’t exactly fit in the criteria of detonating the PDG.)

(Also lol peek the new layout color as I went through Pressure’s badges. Found a neat badge with Sebastian ans its title referencing MatPat!)

NOTES: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader / You loot a dead body / Near-death experience and actual death later (not detailed) / Reader has Sebastian’s document, but nothing too specific is mentioned / Angst if you squint at the end / At one point I was looking at Pandemonium’s document and the app closed me out without saving

Credits: Dividers by @cafekitsune

Dying and coming back to life had its ups and downs. One thing you’re not too sure of is how much time exactly passes as every experience back to where you started always has surprises. Maybe you go back in time, but that wouldn’t make sense as a certain someone remembers you every time. Hell, he’s even there to discuss your death with you in whatever world you’re brought to after dying. Maybe your body is just brought back to before you entered the submarine to Hadal Blacksite. That could make sense if it weren’t for the increased security. Urbanshade had to have noticed by now that one of their prisoners seems to be able to cheat death itself.

That doesn’t matter right now, you keep reminding yourself. As long as they’re still unaware.

Strangely enough, in one of your lives, you encountered a dead guardsman. It startled you at first, but tried to continue on and resist the urge to see if he had anything on him. That was until you heard music coming from him. You can’t fight the urge anymore as you approached him and searched where it was coming from. An ipod that was still functional, and earphones. Strange.

You looked around and checked each corner of the room, trying to see if there were any cameras. Surely they won’t mind if you picked this up, right? It’s not a weapon, so they have no reason to trigger the detonation. Right? It’s not like they saw you pick it up.

This guardsman definitely had a good taste in music, although a bit random. You’ll shuffle it for now and see where it’ll go from there. You pop one earphone on and try your best to hide it from sight when you do eventually run into cameras.

Once you opened the next door, you suddenly hear distant screaming. You quickly ran and hid in a locker, putting on the other earphone and turning the volume all the way up. You hoped it was enough to drown out the sound of the angler passing by. The screams the variants emit often left your ears ringing, the pink one especially since there was no warning prior to it approaching. That one’s scream was louder than the others and it never failed to instill so much fear in you that you briefly forget to hide in a locker.

Once the angler passes and knocks out the lights, you slowly crawl out of the locker. The ipod and earphones were, surprisingly, still functional. You remember reading their document during one of your deaths. All of the anglers emit some sort of EMP equivalent that results in short circuiting all electronics, sometimes malfunctioning too. So why were these still operational?

You shake your head, trying to not question it. It’s better not to anyway.

While the anglers screams were too loud, the silence they create once they pass is also nerve wracking. You took one earphone off and pulled out your flashlight to ease yourself a bit, but quickly shine it away once you hear growling and a glowing white face appears.

It was standing right next to the door. Worst of all, you need a keycard. You don’t have a code breacher on you. You kept the light lowered so you know where you’re stepping as you walk around trying to find where the keycard is. Not in this drawer, not in here either, no… It’s on a table next to a computer.

You came back to the door and can faintly see the creature still standing there. Despite the music playing, you couldn’t calm down. Still, you pushed yourself to approach the door and get out. The face the creature created stares down at you as you got a little too close, but then it suddenly eyes the keycard in your hand and sees where exactly you’re reaching. The face disappears, and so do they as the door opens.

You let out a sigh of relief and carry on to the next room. There were some batteries in a drawer. Your flashlight was likely to run out of juice soon. That was a relatively normal room, so you moved onto the next one. The vent door off to the side tips over and you can faintly hear his voice.

“Psst! In here,”

You smile and crawl through the vent to meet up with a familiar friendly face.

“Welcome back, friend,” he greets with a smile.

You waved at him as you stood up. Your eyes instantly lock onto the medical kit as that’s something you are in need of, and you’ll still have some data to spare. What else do you need… He has a lantern, code breacher, hand-cranked flashlight… You don’t hear the thumping noise of something else crawling through the vent and you don’t realize it until-

“HEY!!” Sebastian yelled.

You turned around just as the wall dweller opened its jaw, but it didn’t get a chance to do anything as Sebastian punched it into the wall. You yelped and fell back, pushing yourself closer to the table beside him. Sebastian had only beat it enough until it crawled away through the vent. It probably won’t get very far.

He turns to you, a little surprised to see you so frightened, “You really gotta start watching your own back. I’m not punching every one of those things for you,”

“S-Sorry, I was a bit distracted…” You stand up.

“I’m surprised you managed to get this far if you couldn’t hear that thing coming,”

You looked down, knowing exactly why you didn’t hear it. The music is still playing, and the one earphone you had on was blocking the sound of the wall dweller approaching. You were a bit shaken up, but the music does calm you down a bit. Sebastian watches you as you walk over to his tail to try and make a final decision, but he swears he hears something.

“What is that sound…?” He looks around for a moment before his eyes land on you, still trying to choose what to buy. He spots something in your ear and leans down, “Hey, what’s that you got there?”

You turn to him as he suddenly leans closer to you, his head right next to where the earphone is.

“I know that song. Is that Metallica?”

You stare up at him in shock, “You know Metallica?”

“Well obviously, you know I was just a regular human, right? You have my document for god’s sake,” he retorts, “How’d you even get an ipod of all things in here?”

“Oh, it’s not mine. I got it from a dead guardsman,”

Sebastian gives you a suspicious look, “I thought Urbanshade doesn’t allow their prisoners to loot dead bodies, armed ones at that. You could end up dead, but seeing as they haven’t detonated your diving gear yet, I’m guessing you weren’t spotted,”

“I guess not. There wasn’t a camera where I got this from, and I made sure to hide it from the cameras in the other rooms,”

“I’m curious to see just how far you’ll get with this thing. You couldn’t even hear the wall dweller approaching,” he crosses his arms, “I’m not sure if you’re bold or just stupid. Are you sure this risk is worth it?”

You can’t deny that he’s got a point. It gets in the way of hearing things you NEED to hear. Still, music brings you comfort so that’s what you tell him. You’ll only have both on when an angler is coming to block out their scream as they pass.

“Mhmm, and what will you do about Z-367? You know, the one they named Pandemonium? What then?”

Shit, he’s actually got you cornered there. You just sighed knowing full well you can’t just sit that one out and wait for it to pass, “Then I’ll just have to deal with it the usual way. I can still hear them through the music,”

Sebastian glares at you for a minute before he sighs, “Jeez, you really want to keep that thing on you, huh? Alright, I’m not stopping you. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you though,”

You smiled, “I’ll just say I knew what I was getting myself into and I’ll face the consequences,”

“Oh look at that, someone is finally taking responsibility for their own actions. It’s shocking how that’s so rare nowadays,”

You manage to pick up on his sarcastic tone and laughed. It was always fun talking with him. By the end of it, you picked up the code breacher with the medical kit he had, as well as a few batteries since you still had more data.

Upon your next unfortunate death, you realized your still have the ipod and earphones. Both were still fully functional, somehow, but you weren’t complaining. You quickly went into the submarine and waited for a few minutes before taking it out to actually scroll through the list of songs. You didn’t exactly pay attention to what was being played while you were there. Soon enough, you did find songs from Metallica which reminded you of the conversation you had with Sebastian.

You never thought he’d be into that kind of music. Maybe you’ll lend the ipod to him when you meet up with him in his shop again. Surely the repeated morse code on that radio has gotten old by now. You doubt you’ll last long without it though, but Sebastian wasn’t wrong when he said it hinders your ability to even hear the wall dwellers. Well, it wouldn’t hurt to give it up for a bit.

Once you managed to find Sebastian’s hideout again, you took off both earphones as you approached him, “Hey, you wanna hold onto this for me?”

You hold up the ipod and Sebastian gives you an odd look, “And you want to give this to me because?”

“I thought about what you said last time. I mean, I’ve made it pretty far without this before, so I don’t think I need it that much,”

He continues to stare at you before taking it from your hands. He inspects it, scrolling through the list of songs on it.

“Wow some of these suck,”

“I think some are pretty good,” you shrugged. You walked over to his tail to see what he has now, “Oh finally, a flashlight,”

Sebastian lowers the ipod and turns to you with a smirk, holding out his third limb, “Better pay up,”

“Yeah yeah, I know,”

Before you left, you left the earphones with him as well. It won’t do much good for you if it’s not gonna block out sound anyway, and it’s not like Sebastian will have much use of it either.

Some time has passed since you left the ipod with him. Sebastian had set it down on the desk next to him as music is being played. He remembers doing college work while listening to music all those years ago. Part of him now understands why you said it comforts you. Maybe it even allowed you to focus as it did with him.

Until you come back to eventually bring it along with you again, he’ll listen to the songs on the list for hours.

#🌑 // a gift bestowed upon you #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian x reader #pressure sebastian #sebastian solace #pressure roblox #roblox pressure #pressure

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

Text

who's that girl?

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible cheating, low self-esteem, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you neighbour is too helpful, and too nosy, for your liking, but he's not your only problem.

Characters: Tommy Miller, Joel Miller

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

“You fixed it,” you say bluntly as you approach the fence.

Tommy looks up from his knees, yanking out the deep roots of a weeds as his hair falls forward over his shining forehead. He quorks his head and narrows his eyes with a grin. He does that a lot. Smile. Especially when there’s no reason for it.

“Fixed what? The hole in your life?” He winks.

You don’t know what that means. You frown.

“The birdhouse. My birdhouse,” you say.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Saw that squirrel messing around the other day,” he shrugs and tosses the weed into the open compost bag. “What’s a nail or two and some paint?”

“How much?” You ask.

“What?” Now he looks confused.

“For the work. Twenty? Fifty?” You offer.

“Nothing. I’m being neighbourly,” he insists.

You stare at him. Neighbourly. That’s what he calls all the unnecessary things he does. Like when he mows your lawn before you can or greased the rust hinge on your gate. Can’t he ask like a normal person?

“I didn’t ask for it.”

“I know,” he blows out between his lips, “it’s just a nice thing to do.”

“But why?” You press.

“Because I’m nice? I don’t know,” he’s further perplexed as he swoops back his hair. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you take the prompt, “but I still never asked you to do that.”

“Uh huh,” he nods as he raises one brow. “Well, if it’s better, I can go back and break it again.”

You consider the offer, “no, that’s fine. The birds need to eat.”

“Right,” his eyes search you and he smiles again. “Next time I promise, I’ll be sure to ask.”

You back away and go back to your porch. You don’t get him. The worst thing about having your own place is the people. Why do they have to be so concerned with you? Why can’t they just let you be? Is the fence not a good enough signal?

You go back through the house and onto the back deck. You sit on the top step to watch the red and grey cardinal couple peck at the suet and seed. That’s your favourite thing to do. You find the feathers pretty and their songs soothing. Birds are much better than people.

As the evening wiles away, growing cooler and softer, and you mourn the waning time. Back to work tomorrow. Not that it’s very far. Just in your home office. Still, you’ll be pent up inside in front of a screen. It’s hardly stimulating.

You yawn and make yourself get up. You’ll barbeque the chicken skewers and some veggies. You go inside to get all the fixings you need. You come out and light the grill, breathing in the pollen and hint of moisture in the air.

You hear voices as the barbeque heats up. You lay the skewers and roasting pan on the grill and close the lid. The smell is comforting to you. It reminds you of your late father.

“Huh, Tommy, see you’re still crashing into things,” a gristly voice comes from the other side of the fence as the loose slat is wiggled. You grimace. Looks like your neighbour has company. “Couldn’t put a nail gun to this thing?”

“Oh yeah, the nail gun I lent to you,” Tommy chirps back. “Joel, leave it alone.”

You wiggle the long tongues in your grip. You always thought of fixing it yourself but always forget. You’re surprised your handy neighbour hasn’t already, considering he could come right through and touch your birdhouse. Now you think of it, how did he even get to it?

You glare at the loose slat. Ah. That could be the possible reason for his procrastination. The slat moves and a face appears in the space as it’s twisted on the loose nails. A man you vaguely recognises peers through. He comes to Tommy’s often.

“Smells good over there,” he comments as he peers into your lawn.

You don’t say anything. Why is he doing that? You should tell him to mind his business but that isn’t polite. Even if your father would have laughed.

He hesitates before he drops the slat straight and retreats into his brother’s yard. You hear a whistle and low grumble. You can’t make out his words.

“She don’t want you peepin’ on her,” Tommy chortles, “what? My steak isn’t good enough for ya?”

“You overcook it. No one wants your grey slabs,” the other man, Joel, rebuffs.

“Oh, is that why you drink all my beer?”

“Gotta moisten it up.”

“Whatever,” Tommy mutters.

You hear his footsteps as he climbs his deck steps. That’s another problem. After last year’s cacophonous renovation, his deck is high enough that he can see you over the top of the fence. A privacy fence!

“Hello, neighbour,” he calls over the sound of his barbecue lighting, “what’s for dinner tonight?”

You glance over at him and back to the grill. You lift the lid and turn the skewers, stirring around the veggies on the pan. You close it and hang the tongues as you look out at the bird feeder. They’ve scared them all away.

“Ha, looks like I’m not the only one she wants nothing to do with,” Joel remarks as the tab of a can cracks, “you ever get anything good? These craft beers taste like scum.”

“You didn’t complain last week,” Tommy grumbles and shakes his head, approaching the rail of his deck, “smells like chicken.”

You roll your eyes. You really don’t want to be rude. You just want to enjoy your time alone.

“Yep, chicken,” you confirm as you sit on the chair against the house siding and put your sunglasses on. You can feel him watching you.

“Delicious, you know, I make this Mexican chicken--”

“Ah, Tommy, lay it on thicker,” Joel snorts, “look at her. She’s tryna block you out. The sun’s gone.”

Is it that obvious? You turn your face away, embarrassed. Tommy sniffs and clacks his own pair of tongues, “uh, anyway, have a good night, neighbour.”

“We’ll try to keep it down,” Joel adds dryly as he pulls Tommy back by his arm.

You chew your lip and stare through the dark lenses. You wonder if you could get a bigger awning to block him out or something. You’ve dealt with mice and ants and wasps, but you still can’t get rid of that one pest. Just like the others, he only seems to multiply.

#tommy miller #joel miller #dark tommy miller #dark!tommy miller #dark joel miller #dark!joel miller #the last of us #au #who's that girl?#drabble #series #tommy miller x reader #joel miller x reader

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peachetteprice · 3 months

Note

Hi!! I have a request

I have had this idea of singing/hummjng Simon “Ghost” Riley back to sleep after he has had a nightmare or can’t relax enough to fall asleep.

Reader can carry a tune; maybe not a grammy nominee but Simon loves it when they do sing.

Simon doesn’t ask them himself to hum or sing to him, it sort of just happens. No one knows how to calm him down like they do and the way Reader hums/sings one of his favorite songs and gently rubs his back works better than he thought it would.

Thank you 😊💖‼️

Hello! I took some creative liberties with the prompt given. It is only slightly different from what you gave me, but I hope I did it justice! Please let me know your thoughts. @skrubob

(Note: influenced by a sleep disorder my dad has. I don't know, I thought I could relate a bit more with that idea!)

Strangers in the Night

Simon "Ghost" Riley - 1.9K words

It happened again.

It happened again like it happened most nights: without much warning, and for no particular reason.

It wasn't a spectacular night. There was nothing distinct about the moon and its size, neither the thickness of its crescent nor the depth of its craters. It wasn't a notable day for the planets and their stars. Nobody had wished on a comet. Nothing, in fact, nothing had gone on in the day to warrant such an odd happening.

Like every day, whenever Simon was off-deployment, he woke up at 0615. No sooner and no later than the sun rose, did he clambour from the bedsheets with a tired groan and a stretch - only occasionally might he have triggered his shoulder blades to seize up, though, thankfully, today was not one of those days - make his careful way downstairs so as to not wake you, flick the kettle on for a brew and stare out of the kitchen window until its rolling boil turned to a simmer, and it clicked itself off.

The cuppa was perfect.

There wasn't a single thing wrong with it.

In fact, if he could have sampled a half-pint of it, dried it into a powder, dusted it onto a canvas and hung it up on the wall in the bedroom - so that he could have something of a reminder of the most well-balanced cup of tea he'd ever made - then he just might have. Though, that wasn't to say that it was anything extraordinary. Not at all. It was a simple, bog-standard cuppa with a dash of milk, a humped teaspoon of white cane sugar, and all he did at the end, when he pulled the teabag out, was make sure not to pinch the sides of it on the rim; that was all there was to it.

And that was all to re-iterate that nothing at all about Simon Riley's day was unusual.

To insist on that point, as you readied yourself to work, and he gave you your cuppa for the morning - two sugars, a whiff of milk, exactly how you liked it - he made sure to give you a kiss on your lips just as your palm neared the door handle. It lasted exactly three seconds, and there was nothing overtly obscene about the smack that followed or the light tap he gave the rear of your thigh as you left.

When you were gone, he did the laundry. The washing machine finished at nine, so he put the tumble dryer on, too. That finished at eleven-thirty, and everything else was put on the line in the garden, which dried until three. Between then and three, if only to keep himself occupied, he fixed one of the dining chairs that you had leant too far back on and splintered the wooden bar at the lumbar region, for which he had to pop to B&Q to grab another bottle of wood glue, which, by and by, was also nothing peculiar in the slightest.

Once that was fixed, and the washing was dry, he collected, folded - even ironed, if the crinkles needed a spot of flattening, in which case it was one of your work blouses or a pair of his fatigues - then sorted them into the chest of drawers in your bedroom.

And, of course, once that was put away, he had his second brew of the day. Equally as plain. Equally as perfect.

By 1800 hours, you were home, and he gave your lips another kiss. Six seconds, this time, double the length of the one from the morning, with a little more vigour, and unlike the previous, you gave his left buttock a little clench, then a pat, and off you went to check the fridge for dinner.

Spag-bol. Spaghetti bolognese. With parmesan, too. The only thing that could've been somewhat abnormal was the addition of cut-up Cumberland sausages that desperately needed eating up, though it was hardly the monumental incident required to be the reason behind it happening again. It was nice. Dinner. Not your finest work, but then again, weekday meals, especially when Simon was home and you had to cook for two again, never were.

After washing up, you gave him a peck on the cheek, and he held you for a moment against the cabinets, just relishing in the body heat that he missed that morning. And when that was over, you popped the TV on - something completely ordinary in genre, motif, and drama - and fell asleep against him on the sofa.

Perhaps it was why you didn't notice so much. Perhaps if you'd stayed awake, you would have known when, why, or how it came to be.

An hour or two - or some duration of time in between - of light sleep passed, and you woke to the sound of his electric toothbrush whirring away. You joined him in the bathroom to brush your teeth, he slung an arm about your waist and drew circles into your stomach, though you were still some variable of dazed by the sudden jolt from being asleep to awake, but it was all alright, truly, because within two minutes, you were dead asleep again.

It was uncertain how much time had passed between falling asleep and being awake again. That was the terrible thing with sleep. Sleep blurs the lines between seconds and hours. What could have been five minutes could have easily been five hours, and what could have been ten hours often felt no longer than ten seconds. Time becomes an illusion, much like the theory in which, on one planet, it is equally plausible that thirty seconds in passing may equal three days in another, and yet, both planets cohabit the same space, the same universe, mere light years apart.

When you did manage to fall asleep again after brushing your teeth, and when it did happen again, it was a mere three seconds.

There was shouting. Some rambling. It bled into your unconsciousness until, with a rather heavy dip in the sheets, a bolt from the blue, you were left wide-awake.

"Simon?" You said into the void. There wasn't much to be seen at night.

"Where? Where is it? There's a--"

--You were awake now. That was for definite. Three seconds had passed, and Simon was awake, too. There was something odd about the frenzy in his eyes. If it wasn't for his blown pupils, you would have been convinced there was an intruder somewhere in the house. But he looked delirious. Three seconds had passed, and he hadn't slept a wink for something more like three days. But in the same breath, he was barely awake.

He was somewhere in between, mumbling under his breath about a spider and how it was somewhere here, in the bedroom, and it wanted him.

He wasn't making any sense - Simon Riley was not afraid of a bloody spider.

Twenty-two hours, eighteen minutes, and three seconds had passed. Nothing pertubing had happened prior, and yet, it was happening again.

"Simon, love, go back to sleep." You enveloped the shadow of his waist and pressed him back to the mattress - luckily, he hadn't left the bed yet. He was in and out of it, then. Ever-mumbling, eyelids still bursting wide every few seconds with the type of fear that should have only been present in somebody murdered. "It's alright."

It didn't happen often.

A few times since you'd been together, all countable on one hand, which, at this point, was years. He'd told you it might happen the first night you'd slept together in the same bed. Not the first time you'd slept together, full stop, but when he moved in and co-opted the king-sized bed in the bedroom. It was real, then. The relationship.

He never remembered it in the morning. Never did. Never will. You know he never did - he would have apologised if he did. Never asks if it's happened, but he's sure it has, because he notices the way your eyes never leave him the morning after, as if you're worried he might start yelling obscenities again and you have to hold him.

You always have to hold him. Like his mother did. One arm along his belly, stroking his stomach, and the other around the curve of his head, petting his hair like he's a little lamb. He would never be embarrassed about it, what you have to do to calm him, but if he were to ever ask if he'd ever woken up in a state, looking half as scared as a little boy in the dark - you wouldn't tell him. No. It's only a memory for you, and you'd rather like to keep it that way.

"It's alright." You cooed.

Sometimes, you sing to him. If he needs it. You sung that night, actually. He needed it that night. God, you must have sounded awful. Part of you was pleased at the fact that he never remembers it once he wakes up, because you'd quite like to avoid the conversation about how you can only just about hold a tune, and not with much fluidity.

It was Etta James' I'd Rather Go Blind.

The DJs on Smooth Radio played it during crawl traffic on the M60, rattled on about how incredible of a voice she had, they did, which was salt in the wound, really - there was an accident that morning on the hard shoulder, it took all of fifteen minutes to clear - and it was all that was stuck in your head at work, on the toilet, in the break-room and in the car on the way home.

It was the only song that came to mind as you started singing. A few wobbly notes here and there, nothing but of jumble of lyrics where it was certain you'd said more than one of the pre-chorus lines in favour of getting to the chorus itself, and you could hardly stop yourself from whispering some notes that you knew you wouldn't be able to reach at a murmur.

Simon settled a little at that. You were sure there wasn't much cognition behind those eyes - he was nothing but a walking zombie whenever it happened - but his hands clasped the one on his stomach, his pupils pinched back to normal, and by the second chorus, he was calm again.

You held him for a while. A long while. Until daybreak came in. Just to make sure it wouldn't happen again.

And at 0615, when the sun crept in to cast its shadow along the foot of the bed - and it would still be another hour until you rose - Simon awoke, stretched out his shoulder blades - though, this time, they did seize up - and faced your conked-out body.

Simon did notice something peculiar, then.

Your arms wrapped around his torso - which were often the other way around - should have been clutching the covers. There never meant to be a kink in your brow. Never was. Never should have been. Only on the mornings when you looked at him with too much empathy - when something had happened the night before that you never wished to talk about, was there ever such concern knotted into them.

And, in that moment, Simon knew. He leant a kiss to your lips, later joined them at your earlobe, too, before whispering;

"Thank you, love."

And there actually was something anomalous about that day, irreverent of the last. For some reason, whether because of the stars, the moon, or the planets, Simon had an Etta James song stuck in his head. How bloody weird.

| Masterlist |

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prettyboykatsuki · 1 year

Text

HOW TO BE A DOG. | S. GOJO | PART 2

⊹ general tags ; fem + afab!reader, reader presents femininely and has some specific character traits (i.e. personality traits, nothing physical), reader is shorter / smaller than gojo but nothing specified, reader is a teacher, gojo carries reader at some point (but he is canonly able to do very insane things physically so)

⊹ content warnings ; dead dove. do not eat, yandere gojo satoru, manipulation, stalking, obsessive behavior, delusional behavior, workplace harassment (not from gojo), victim blaming, canon typical violence, graphic depictions of murder, minor character death, excessive religious imagery, coercion, gaslighting, abuse of power, something akin to stockholm syndrome, graphic depiction of noncon / sexual content, forced intimacy, fingering, hickies / bruises, begging, edging, loss of virginity, size kink, 18+.

all sexual content present in this part.

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING FOR GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF NONCON, COERCION, AND SEXUAL VIOLENCE.

⊹ wc ; 18.4k / 36.1k

link to extended authors note | ao3 | how to be a dog, by andrew kane.

LINK TO PART ONE.

⊹ a/n ; here's part two!! miss ame has read it so im all good to post. i will upload to ao3 as soon as im awake i promise lol. hope you enjoy the fic and please heed the tags. likes and rbs always appreciated. also the last part is, relatively tame. the crazy gets amped up to ten so be careful.

⊹ synopsis ; with six eyes to see it becomes clear, you are being watched.

"You must learn, once you have sampled the freedom of a life without a chain, that it is better to return and be chained again. Or you may learn that it is not—a fugitive is also a kind of dog." - andrew kane, how to be a dog.

⊹ PART TWO : SOMETHING TAKEN IS BORROWED. SOMETHING RUINED IS YOURS.

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white.

Gojo Satoru sits on his hands and watches the blizzard outside from his window. His apartment is dark and there’s frost on his window. He can hear the wind from inside, and can feel the cold chill of glass as he stands close to it.

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white. Spring feels like an innocent century ago.

Nothing’s changed, but everything is different. It’s starting to feel comedic. It’s so cyclical. He has two states of being. Being with you, and not. It dictates his internal world. He functions the same as usual. Repetition. Working, coming home, and waiting.

Gojo feels like he’s waiting. Perpetually waiting for time to set again so he can see you. There’s something in him only you can fulfill - an itch only you can scratch. Gojo is drawn to irreplaceable people, so perhaps it’s no surprise that he’s latched onto you this way.

There’s nothing to call it other than greed. Sometimes love, but mostly greed. A habit he can’t break free from. Gojo wants to see you. He doesn’t know why either. There’s not any particular reason. Or if there is, he hasn’t examined it too deeply. Gojo has always known in some innate way that he’s lonely. That his loneliness makes him untouchable - but not in the same way it might make a God.

The thought of doing anything without you makes paranoia creep up in his throat like bile. Gojo is that sort of lonely. Is it too much to ask to be next to someone, who never goes anywhere he can’t see? Monopolizing your time and all the ways to do it best take up most of his energy.

When was the last time anyone made him feel warm, in the cold white of winter? He thinks maybe he realized it too late, that he cares about you this much.

The reality is that Jujutsu Sorcerers are better off learning how to cut their losses. You love people and they die. You like people and they die. Gojo doesn’t think he can accept that from you so easily. He doesn’t think he should have too.

Does he need a good reason to want to keep you?

Gojo doesn’t want to make you hate him. He just wants to make sure you’re alive even if it means you might hate him. You might never understand either. Because you are still foolish, naive and human. Is that really asking for so much?

It makes him hesitate from the call to action. That instinct in his bones. He sees having met you as a blessing from the Heavens who’ve banished him. Gojo Satoru is not god. He understands God, but he’s not God.

No matter how much Gojo reaches for omnipotence, his long fingers can’t stretch towards it. Godliness is uninhabitable, an abandoned house. If Gojo casts his eyes on you for more than one second, he can do nothing but long. How can God long? Perhaps if he were more godlike, he could treat your inevitable death like a sacrifice. A martyrdom, or proof of your undying love for him.

Despite that, he understands how God's love can reach. Inciting violence to bring you closer to him is merciful. It’s only then you’ll come to understand it to the highest extent. That Gojo loves you after all, more than anything mortal in his world. He can hold all of you in his hands, keep you safe for the rest of your life. It’s what he wants so badly. If you just give him the chance to protect you - he could do it so easily.

Religion can be so much like a dog and its master. Maybe, you could understand Gojo’s feelings if you saw it as an animal instinct to protect you. Even if it’s a falsity, a fictitious tale, detached from what's true.

He doesn’t want you to hate him. He’s your watch dog, your keeper, your divine love. He needs you all to himself and he needs you to understand that you’re his reprieve. That in a universe decided by fate, the two of you are also red strings knotted together perversely.

He needs you. He needs you. He needs you.

Snow is falling.

Come Saturday, Gojo receives a knock on his door.

He’s usually sleeping in on the weekends, so he’s startled by it. School doesn’t start till later and if it was an emergency relating to sorcery - Yagi would’ve dialed him personally. He answers the door with sleep still in his, rubbing his eyelids as he yawns. He’s dressed in his P.J.’s with his hair messy and mind jumbled.

He’s not unhappy though, when he opens the door up to see you. You’ve got something in your arms, a bag it looks like and a look on your face that Gojo can’t decipher.

“Oh,” He says after registering who he’s talking to you “What’re you doing here so early?”

You sigh, deeply, rubbing your arm. That anxious little habit again, your eyes darting every which way.

“A pipe broke in my apartment. Like, flooded the whole thing. Spent the whole morning scrounging my stuff together a-and I called maintenance but they won’t be here for a while and.” You stutter as you explain yourself and Gojo stares at you in confusion “I need a place to stay but going back to my parents right now is gonna be so hard and plus there’s work,”

Gojo soothes you silently, putting a hand up.

“Hey, calm down,” He says first, smiling up at you. He reaches out to pat your head “I’m here. It’s okay. Slow down and tell me what's wrong?”

You sigh, closing your eyes and bracing yourself.

“Would it be alright if I stayed with you? Just for a few days, until I figure this all out?”

If God exists, maybe this is his way of giving Gojo grace. Gojo takes a minute to pretend, leans against his door frame and watches you fidget anxiously. He blinks at you, the way your teeth are pressing into your lip. You fold underneath the pressure of his gaze easily. He hums and haws.

“Hm,” He says, leaving you uncertain for as long as he can before you try to react. He’s memorized all your tells by heart “Well, there’s no reason not to, right? You’ll have to sleep in my bed though.”

He half-jokes, but not really. He waits on your reaction.

“Oh, uhm, then,”

He interrupts just then, raising his voice. You jump back.

“Just kidding! Of course you can stay with me. I’ll take the couch for a few days so don’t worry your pretty little head about it, okay? Stay as long as you like.”

You look relieved. It makes Gojo smile a bit watching you take a deep breath, leaning on the door frame as he stares.

“What?” You ask when you notice. He shakes his head.

“It’s cute when you get nervous,” He says, inhibitions lowered. You pout at him and Gojo has to stop himself from reaching forward to grab your face in his hands.

“You’re so mean,” You say with a sigh, arms crossed over your chest “I was really freaking out just now,”

“I know, I know - but it’s kinda fun watching you fuss. Dunno. Maybe it’s cause I’m sleepy,”

“You're wide awake right now!” You point out. He snorts.

“Noo, what? I’m half-asleep right now,”

“Gojo,” You whine, and he has to stop the blood rushing through his body “Let me in? Please?”

“Try Satoru. Sa-to-ru,” He says. You frown at him, sighing as you rub your face.

“Satoru,” You say, hardly getting the syllables out “L-let me in,”

He pats your head one more time as your frown deepens.

“Good girl,” He purrs, before switching his tone to a more lax one as he welcomes you “Come on in!”

Another sigh of relief. Gojo finds it fascinating that you can find relief in his presence. It speaks to how well he’s been doing to make sure he’s acting in accordance to expectations. Despite how easy the opportunity has fallen into him, he doesn’t think it’s time yet. You’re still skittish.

Still, he should get something out of your stay here. And he will, but he should let you settle in first. He gives you a hum as you shuffle inside, standing awkwardly in his living room. He shuts the door behind you and locks it up.

“Don’t be so stiff,” He says, waving a hand in the air before yawning “My home is your home. Be comfortable. Is there anything you need or wanna do?”

“Could I borrow your shower?”

Gojo feels something pressing into his ribs at the idea of you using his things - sharp and sinful.

“I was gonna shower this morning but, y’know.” You gesture vaguely. He’s quick to agree of course, nodding his head as he points in the general direction of the bathroom.

“Pretty sure our places are built the same so you should know where it is. The towels on the rack are all clean. Feel free to use anything in there and uhhh,” He scratches his head unsure of what else he needs to add. Though he’s certain he’s missing something “Oh, and I’ll give you some clothes,”

You flush at the sentiment. So maybe you do know what this seems like, at least on the surface. Gojo peers at you as you turn his words over, interjecting before you have a chance to refuse.

“Don’t say no,” He says, voice sing-songy. watching your expression morph into something nervous again. Maybe you caught it, because you certainly jump in your skin, but he switches into himself with ease. Over and over and over - startling you never gets less fun “Let me play out my domestic fantasies a bit as compensation,”

“That’s a bad joke,” You say, throat thick.

You want to trust him don’t you? He wants to praise you for that.

“Aw, c’mon. It’s lonely. Let me indulge a little,” He begs with enough lightheartedness that you don’t run away.

“Geez. I thought you were popular with the ladies,” You try and joke back, though it’s stilted and awkward. He can tell you’re getting prepared to squeeze to the bathroom before the conversation is too much.

“Old ladies do love me,” He says contemplative. You elbow him lightly.

“Stupid.”

He gives you a soft smile as you pass by him.

“Is there anything else that you need while you’re in there?”

“I don’t think so,” You reply back. Gojo watches you disappear into the hall, trailing after you silently. He waits, listening carefully for the sound of the shower to turn on.

When the water rushes, he follows you.

He almost has a conscious standing in front of the closed door. The water pressure in his apartment is a little higher than it’s supposed to be. The closed walls keep all the noise inside them, making it almost impossible to hear what’s going on outside. Even with heightened senses like him.

For someone like you, it’s probably impossible.

It’s knowing that he follows behind you, lying in wait. He counts up to 5 minutes as he waits, letting you settle into it before he puts his hand on the door knob. He finds it unlocked. He’s pleased with that.

You trust him, or you try too.

When he feels certain you’re relaxed, he opens the door. He could teleport in but it’s noisy. Steam plumes outward as the door opens. He looks around the bathroom. Your clothes are folded neatly, with your pants hanging on the rack next to you.

He stares at the fabric for a long time, contemplating what he has time for.

Ultimately, he suppresses whatever urges come up to do what he came for. Too many to count and even more that are risky to act on. Instead, he checks the tags of each piece, committing it to memory. After, he stares at the shower curtain until he’s sure he overstayed his welcome.

He leaves right after though, shutting the door just as quietly as he opened it.

The less you know the better. Gojo makes his way back into the living room.

He sits on his couch when he’s back. The sun hasn’t come up yet and he’s only turned on a single lamp for light. It’s hard for him to describe how he’s feeling. Things have been different for weeks now, but proceeding normally hasn’t caused him too many issues. Strangely the sense of routine has been grounding.

He’s been dealing with it better than he expected. For all of that restraint to unravel so quickly is funny.

But, Gojo thinks, that everything leading up to now must’ve been a sign. There are so many instances that befall him that feel aligned with fate. He’s naive in thinking you're different. He’s the only heir of the Gojo clan, the only one with the Six Eyes for nearly 400 years. He hears the water rush faintly through the walls of his apartment, picturing you trapped in those four walls. He thinks of how you met. Your proximity to each other.

It’s only now and in such circumstances does he think that you’re the due that the universe is paying back to him. Robbed of everything, of every joy he’s ever had - it’s both righteous and fair to take you. Gojo doesn’t want you to hate him. Not necessarily.

But they always say in sickness and in health. Through the best of times and the worst. If you were made for him like he suspects (like he knows, believes deep down) then he thinks it’ll be fine. As long as it's you. As long as it’s yours. Even if you cry or scream, what matters to Gojo is that it’s yours. That he’s yours.

Holding back is starting to be too much. Gojo’s never been the type to sit on his hands and wait. Being scared is so much like starving. Deprivation like that always threatens to turn Gojo to ruin.

But like anything he does though, he can’t take the easy way out. There’s a method to the madness. An order even among his most disorderly actions, there’s things that need to be done the right way for the best possible outcome. On less of a whim than it seems, Gojo decides that he’ll do his best to make that reality happen.

The thought settles in his body and suddenly he’s present again. He feels a pang of hunger in his stomach, causing him to stand to his feet. He feels lighter as he waltzes into the kitchen, whistling to himself on what he should make. Maybe crepes? He’s not a skilled cook but he’s pretty good at making those.

At the very least, he thinks you’ll like them too. He proceeds into a normal-ish routine. He follows the motions of making breakfast as he hums to himself silently. Grabs a bowl from the cupboard, eggs and milk from the fridge, and flour from the pantry.

He thinks to himself, immersing himself in the practical ritual. His comment from earlier about domestic fantasies was a half-joke at best. Gojo really does want to do this kind of thing with you, and he doesn’t want to miss the opportunity to play the part either. Even if it’s temporary. He’s giddy at the thought of doing this with you everyday, a warm fluttery feeling spreading through his body.

He grabs a whisk off of the wall as he dumps everything into an empty bowl, turning the heat of a non-stick low. He whistles a song he can’t remember the name of, cracking an egg on the metal edge.

Despite living in a nicer part of Tokyo, Gojo has yet to have an induction stove top. It’s not uncommon to have gas for smaller, cheaper apartments. Most of the stovetops in the Jujutsu Tech dorms are gas and Gojo has no issue using them. He doesn’t cook for himself often in the first place, so he’s never thought to complain about it or get it changed.

Maybe he should. Once you live here, it might get inconvenient. The thing about gas stoves is that they never heat evenly. It’s not impossible to work with, and the heat is easier to control - but induction lets every inch of the pan get hot the same way.

( He often thinks of the analogy for boiling a frog. If you put anything living in heat too directly, it’ll jump to save itself. But if you keep the heat tepid, gently raising the heat till it boils - it’ll let itself stay in the treacherous waters until the very end. It’s best to keep the heat even. It’s best to fix it sometime soon. )

The whisk makes a pleasant sound as it hits the bowl, metallic scratch softened by the presence of batter. He picks the whisk up and watches the yellow liquid drip off the edge, a hand over the pan. Still too cool to the touch, he clicks his teeth.

He waits, idly. The shower turns off, he hears, and feels his breath hitch. He has to steel himself, curb his enthusiasm.

Too much heat, and you’ll jump to save yourself.

Once the pan is hot enough, Gojo busies himself with cooking. It helps him distract himself, the monotony of pouring and flipping and waiting. He gets through almost 6 before he hears your feet pad gently across his hardwood floor, slipping into the kitchen with a towel wrapped around your neck.

You’re wearing what seems like the only clothes you managed to bring. Gojo wonders how long it’ll last you. Despite it, he notices the way you smell. How you smell like all of his fancy bath products and soaps. There’s a twitch in his sweats that he barely gets under control. He lowers the heat and turns to you.

“Morning,” He says. You giggle a little.

“Morning. Are you making breakfast?”

“Yes ma'am. The only thing I know how to make but,” He puffs his chest up “Pretty good, I’m told.”

You roll your eyes at him, but smile anyway

“Guess I’ll be the judge of that,”

“The audacity,” He says, full of theatrics “I’ll knock your socks off,”

“Oh, I’m sure you will,” You say, flippant and giggly. Gojo decides then, maybe, in its entirety. That he’ll have all of you and soon “Can I help with anything?”

“Get started on some coffee maybe,”

You nod your head and yawn.

“Sounds good to me,”

You decide to stay for a week.

More precisely, Gojo convinces you to stay for a week. That’s how long it will take for your apartment to get fixed completely. Concerned about inconveniencing him, you initially suggested 3 days - insisted you could find somewhere else or pay for a hotel for the rest of the time.

But Gojo insisted too. A week is more than fine (even longer would be better) and there’s no reason for you to go out of your way. Hotels are expensive, your parents live out in the countryside, and it’s not like you can’t board with a friend for a few days right?

But won’t that trouble you? Of course not. Gojo doesn’t mind at all. It’s like having a week-long sleep-over.

I don’t have the stuff I need. That’s fine. Gojo can take care of it. He already bought some clothes for you, an act of kindness. He can get the rest too. You can consider it a favor, if you really want to be sure.

Are you sure? Of course he’s sure. More than sure. You’re doing him a big favor, he assures with nothing but affection. Being alone at home is pretty boring, anyways. What’s sleeping in the same room when we’re neighbors?

Even with your unease, you agree to stay the whole week. You’re weak to being convinced, and hard-pressed on not fighting about things Gojo is adamant on.

(He’d be stupid not to notice how your earnesty makes you easy to exploit. It’s a good thing it’s only Gojo who knows.)

The first day passes quietly. You and Gojo go to your respective jobs and greet each other when you get home. At home, things are simple. Domestic. There’s no other way to view it. You graded papers and looked over lesson plans in the living room while Gojo got in his daily sets - TV playing in the background with neither of you particularly tuned in. Gojo sleeps on the couch.

(He doesn’t make it a day without touching himself. The proximity is too much, too stimulating, and even with all of the restraint in the universe - it’s hard for him to stave it off. What you don’t know can’t hurt you. Alone under the moon, he thinks of what you look like when you’re embarrassed and spills into his hand.

Eventually, he’ll graduate to watching over you. You leave the door unlocked because you’re naive and Gojo stands with his cock in his fist, watching intently. You squirm in your sleep but you sleep deeply - because despite all the noise, you don’t stir one even once. He stops it from touching you, so close to your mouth, to your skin. )

On the second day of living together, the clothes Gojo bought you come to his door. You’re not home when it arrives, so he waits until you are home to open it with you. You come home a little later than usual (parent-teacher conferences, apparently).

(“I have a surprise for you!” Gojo says, as finally comes back into the living room. You’ve returned from your shower, on your last pair of PJ’s. You blink at him softly, tilting your head to one side as he hands you a package.

“For me?” You ask. Gojo nods, grinning.

“For you,” He confirms. He walks with you as you set the box onto the coffee table. You stare at it for a minute, glancing up at Gojo. Your eyes search for your keys. Once you find them, you take the sharpest key and rip through the tape on the top of its sides. An unceremonious krrk sounds through the room, echoing in the dimly lit living room.

The clothes are wrapped in white, plastic packaging. You pick them individually, examining them closely. You look at Gojo again, more uncertain than before.

But Gojo shakes his head, nudging you towards opening the packages themselves. A promise to explain afterwards, silent in the air. You nod, confused, but do as he suggests. You rip the top open, dropping the thin plastic onto the table. More bags, this time clear. You repeat the action until the material flounces in your hands. You undo the careful folding for a minute, then stare at it.

“...Clothes?” You repeat.

“Surprise!” He says with his usual silly cadence “For you, free of charge.”

A lot of things pass over your expression. Gojo watches each of them carefully, amused. He wonders what you’ll do. What you’re thinking, it’s a shame Gojo can’t read your mind.

“How’d you know my size?” You say first, inquisitive but not accusatory. Gojo shrugs.

“Guessed. We’ve spent enough time together,” He says noncommittally. Your face changes, like you don’t quite believe him. But there’s not enough there for you to question him either. He can almost hear you narrate it in your head. The heart you wear on your sleeve, tender red and bleeding, thumps anxiously as you try to get a read on him. It’s not a sound he dislikes.

He’s been good to you. He’s just being nice. You shake your head, regretful of your own doubt for a minute. You force a smile, and Gojo doesn’t hate it even though he knows where it comes from.

The power of love, he thinks almost whimsically.

“This is a big box. How much stuff did you even get?” You repeat, noticing the contents are up to the top. He feigns indifference. Pretends not to know that he spent countless hours looking over it.

“Mm, dunno. Just whatever I thought you’d need.”

“I’m only here for a week, Gojo.” You mutter, hands grazing over the cardboard edge.

“So? Maybe you need a lot of stuff. I don’t know what women go through.” He says with a pout, lips together. Joking with you to lighten the mood, which makes you huff through your nose.

“You’re so dumb. It’s too much stuff,”

“I already bought it and I don’t feel like returning it,” He tells you, making it clear he’s not going to negotiate “Just think of it as a gift from Santa Claus.”

You snort.

“You even have the hair,” You reply. Trying to make yourself feel better in the process, Gojo gives you a half smile “Still. I feel like I’m really indebted to you, lately.”

“Yeah? You can count this week as one big favor, if that makes it easier.”

“I don’t remember Santa doing favors for people,” You quip. Gojo laughs.

“Change in management,”

You laugh a real laugh at that, and Gojo watches you turn the situation over again and again.

“Well. Thank you. Might as well look through the rest of it, huh?”

“Take your time,” Gojo says, before checking the digital clock on his wall “I need to go get something from the store. Just leave the empty stuff next to the trash and I’ll take it out tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah. I’ll start on dinner. See you, Gojo.”

“Yeah. See you” )

If you notice all the clothes come in shades of blue, you’re smart enough not to say anything.

The third day passes in a blur. Nothing notable, but he’s content. You wear the clothes Gojo bought you and he’s careful not to stare while you know. He takes it upon himself only to do it when he knows you’re asleep, his nightly routine staring over the bare inches of your body in a dark room being a reprieve of his other desires.

On the fourth day, he doesn’t have the restraint not to touch you. Too many days in the same room and he wants access to everything already. He hates being patient more than he thought, but there’s a method to this - he has to remind himself.

Like taking out his aggression, he decides he needs more relief. Something to scratch the itch. With his infinity, you can’t feel his fingers ghosting over your legs. He checks if you’re wearing the other stuff he bought, settled at the bottom of the box. Not lingerie, but panties. Plain and cottony - white over your cunt as you sleep with your leg hiked up. Gojo knows you can’t feel him now, but part of him wants you too. He wants to know why you’re wearing them despite yourself. Gojo realizes too late that he’s interested in your misery just as much as he is everything else, and so far - that discovery has made everything all the more difficult.

On the fifth day, things proceed the same. There’s a routine you’ve settled into together despite the time limit on it. That night over dinner, you and Gojo spend time together. There’s not really much to do - it’s a Friday. It’s the first time neither of you are completely occupied with any one task.

You get to talking like that. On the fifth day, Gojo gets as close to opening up as he’s ever gotten in his life. Part of him isn’t sure why he does it. He thinks he’s seeking confirmation for something, but what that could be is lost on him.

(“So, you’re the only person left in your clan?” You ask, half-way through a glass of tea he’s sure has gone cold by now. The T.V. is on but muted. Gojo looks at you in the low lights, fighting his own sleep.

“Mhm. Technically, I’m the sole heir.” He replies.

“...Is it okay to ask what happened?”

Gojo laughs at you. You really can’t help your curiosity, but he still finds it amusing.

“It’s not a pretty story,” Gojo says honestly.

“That’s okay,” You say, voice filled with an air of innocence that Gojo has a hard time wrapping his head around.

“Most of them were wiped out. We had a lot of enemies, me included. A lot of them are dead, the remaining are somewhere far-away and have no combat abilities.”

“You included?” You pick up on, naturally. Gojo nods and smiles a little.

“Once I inherited my technique it was pretty commonplace. I went through a lot of assassination attempts,” He yawns in between, because this is an old, boring story “It took a lot of time for me to get strong enough to where I am now. But I got there eventually.”

“You say that so easily,”

Gojo peers at the frown on your face and laughs quietly to himself.

“It was a long time ago, now. I never really had a lot to mourn, except for when I was a teenager. I’m used to it.”

For a long time, you remain completely silent. Gojo almost thinks you’re going to cry. He doesn’t know how to feel about that. It’s proof of something. Of his ambivalence towards the idea of sympathy. Sure, it’s meaningless now for someone to feel bad for him. It’s a pointless endeavor, because Gojo is a selfish dick and the strongest - and he knows both of those things intimately. He accepts them as part of himself in the same way, he doesn’t know what he’s like without being frivolous. Without being the strongest. The line between misery and character is paper thin and Gojo hasn’t known it since he was born.

It’s especially pointless for you to feel bad for him, because he’s going to ruin that very innocence you hold in your heart before the week is over. He’s going to do it with purpose and conviction. He won’t feel remorseful about it at all.

There’s an irony to it. A dramatic irony that brings him closer to Godliness than he’s ever really been. Because Gojo knows that this conversation is confirmation that he needs you, just as much as he knows he’ll do anything to have you even if it means you can no longer look at him like this.

He wonders how long you’ll hold sympathy for him. He decides for now, there’s no reason to not lean into it. It makes him happy that you care enough to feel sad. Even if it’s pointless. He doesn’t remember the last time someone did.

Maybe when he was 17.

“You look like you’re gonna cry.” He says lightheartedly. Sincere in a way he hasn’t been in very well over 10 years. You sniffle.

“How are you not crying?”

“I never cry.” Gojo says smoothly, not blinking “I’m a heartless bastard.”

“That’s not true.” You say, almost exclaim, turning yourself to look at him so seriously. It’s cute, he must admit, that you’re so sure on his character “You’re not heartless,”

“But I am a bastard,” He clarifies, mischievous. And you pout, less eager to correct him on that

“...You’re not heartless. Clearly.” You say again. Gojo laughs, a real laugh. He can feel it preemptively, how much he’ll cherish every minute of this conversation. He hums.

“Oho, you almost sound like you’re defending me.”

“From yourself, I guess. I know you’re not heartless,” You say, with some kind of clarity that you have him figured out. Maybe you do. It’s a little shocking. It’s not usually how this goes “You’re…weird. But you care”

“That’s true,” Because it is, and Gojo has no reason to lie to you right now. “More than that, I’m hung up on the idea of the future.”

“Isn’t it usually being hung-up on the past?”

“Right? Usually, that’d be the case,” Gojo says, unsure of what to express “But the past is the past. I can’t go back to it. My technique is infinity. It means I can see infinite realities.”

You sound like the winds been knocked out of you “That’s terrifying,”

“It is. But you know, even in those realities, the past is the past. There are places where the past hasn’t happened. But it can’t be changed. It becomes part of infinity, when events occur. The only thing that can be changed is the future,” Gojo explains, though he leaves out so many intricacies “There’s a future I want to see. I’d like if my students could see it too,”

“Because of your friend, right?”

Gojo smiles.

“Because of my friend. And for less selfless reasons.”

“Like?” You ask, curious.

“I like being able to do whatever I want, without consequences. Being strong lets me do that. For now it’s up to me, but eventually, I can raise strong comrades.”

You’re silent for a while, again.

“Seems lonely,” You say, simply. Easily. It’s true, and he knows that. It’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you’ve said it with little regard for anything. Almost mindlessly, a natural response to such a sad story.

Gojo feels it again. Those stifling, pesky emotions that linger in the cavity of his ribs. He can’t bring himself to be honest, because when does he ever? But he does smile again, a little more melancholy than usual. You notice, certainly, but you have the courtesy not to say a word.

“You think so?” Gojo says, passive and wilfully ignorant “Does it make you wanna hug and console me?”

He offers it sarcastically, but you don’t tear your eyes away from him. It’s almost enough to shake him. Almost.

“...A little? You feel like a sad dog in the rain.” You say, too honestly.

“Jeez. Maybe you just miss Pokupan. Thinking about another man right in front of me. I can’t believe I’m the other woman,” He says, with a faux pout.

You laugh, though it’s laced with sympathy. Gojo can tell you want to fuss. That you want to admonish him for being the way he is, and he’s almost willing to let you. That’s just the thing.

You see Gojo as human, still.

Gojo Satoru isn’t God. But he isn’t human either. If you want to know how God lives, asking Gojo is always viable. But you shouldn’t mistake false omnipotence for forgiveness, like you are now. You see Gojo for all of his humanity, but you're blind to his divinely violent tendencies. You will be until it’s too late.

So, Gojo doesn’t think you need to comfort him how you’re thinking you should. Gojo wants you to depend on him. Because coveting you is an affair distinctly inhuman and crueler than even the heavens could be and he believes that you’re owed to him.

Gojo wants to protect this version of you, even at the sake of corrupting it. He doesn’t want to let you go ever, for any reason. And he wont.

He turns the heat up gently. You’re none-the-wiser. The night swallows you both, but Gojo will remain untouched. He’ll hold you when it inevitably spits you back out. When reality washes into you, you should’ve trusted your gut after all.

For now, he smiles at you.

“If it’s any consolation, I’d be very sad if you disappeared.” Which Gojo hopes you can interpret without his interference. It seems like you do, because you smile to yourself.

“Me too,” You reply. Gojo knows he’s going to ruin you. “I’d be really sad if you disappeared, Gojo. So, don’t, okay?”

And if Gojo were an honest person, or a good one - he’d tell you you’re the last person who should worry about missing him. That you’ll be seeing him for a long time.

But he’s neither, just like he’s not god or man. He lightens his tone and holds out his pinky, which you link with his.

“Scouts honor,”

When he’s ready to look away, you pull a bare thread from Gojo’s clothes. Frowning at him, as you dust away the fabric with your hand. He stares at you.

“What was that?”

“You had a thread loose,” You say simply, unconcerned with anything “I just pulled it off.”

Gojo stares.

“Yeah. Thanks.”)

The sixth day passes quickly. Gojo doesn’t think there’s anything worthy of saying. By then the routine is so practiced and so constant. The sixth day passes like a shadow in the night, disappearing through the woods before morning comes. A stepping stone.

Today is the 7th day.

On the 7th day, things are different. The same but different as they so often are. You don’t have work today, so you do what you’ve been doing. You and Gojo work in proximity to each other, share meals, and idly watch T.V.

Night falls on the 7th day.

Gojo wants to take part in the act of creation, as the sun dips below the horizon. He’d set this in motion when the week started and now that it’s here - the anticipation is too much to bear. When Gojo Satoru sets himself out to be conqueror, the universe trembles at the sight of him. There’s no sound at all. The night reeks of death, in Gojo’s presence it trembles. Too fearsome to speak.

Night falls today. Gojo starts his usual routine with less caution than he’s had the previous six. Where he usually bides his time and enters the room carefully - today he merely enters. He places his hand on the silver handle and pushes it open. A breath rushes from his lungs, adrenaline entering his system as he steps inside. His room has felt so unfamiliar to him lately, but like this - a sense of serenity washes over him.

He stares at you. With his Six Eyes, with vision clear as ever, Gojo looks onto you as you are now. You can never reconstruct a flower crushed under steel boots. You’re not mud or earth, not adaptable like the sea. From the moment he’s met you - Gojo has known you to be so much like a flower. Gojo has never wanted to take the petals off of something so much in his life.

And Gojo is in this instance, a natural disaster ready to pluck the root of you up from the ground. He’ll pick you up in a storm but return you to his feet. There’s a method to this. Gojo stares at your silhouette wrapped and tangled in his sheets, body so loosely dressed. Your visible figure rests easy.

The night is glorious and silent. Gojo watches on in some cross of indifference and utter starvation. He blinks, leans on the wall.

Like a call from fate, you start to stir awake.

Gojo moves towards you. He decides it might be easier just to join you in bed, so he gently works himself into the sheets.. He creeps towards you slowly, and re-familiarizes himself with the feeling of his bed. It’d be lost on him for a week, but your presence in it makes it feel especially brand new. The bed dips under his weight, creaking. You shift lethargically, turning your head to look at Gojo.

You look startled once you realize. For the first time in your entire relationship, it seems to dawn on you that something is wrong. Just a minute too late. He gives you a second to wake up. Your breath hitches, a stifled gasp as you greet Gojo’s expression.

The hunger in his stomach is gnawing. Gojo feels like he’s starving. He thinks doing this will only half-way relieve the urge. This part of Gojo is inhuman as the rest of him.

Gojo’s presence suffocates you so much in the moment, you can only barely open your lips to say your next words.

“What are you doing here?” You sound still innocent. Gojo smiles briefly, under the glow of the moon. He can see your expression clearly. Sleep in your vision. A sheerness to your skin that comes with rest. Your bags are packed, and your things are cleared from his bathroom. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought.

He knows he shouldn’t think it, but some part of him is vindicated. You’re leaving him today and Gojo finds abandonment to be the highest betrayal of them all. So, he’s vindicated. He licks his teeth, usual mirth coming back to him.

Then he talks, his voice tender.

“Getting my debts repaid,” And he means it, more than he’s ever meant anything he’s said “You owe me one, remember?”

It dawns on you. Realization flickers in your eyes before it twists into fear. Gojo wants to encourage it. A curse starts to form, like tendrils around you. You’ll leave it here when you’re gone in the morning and Gojo will have a piece of you left with him.

“W-what are you…? What do you mean?”

He’s shrill, almost, leaning close to you. His sudden proximity makes you freeze. You know better, know so clearly it stops you from running. Gojo is tempted to see if you’ll do it. If you’ll run or if you’ll thrash or if you’ll fight. He’s not particularly sadistic, but he likes you - and he’s curious to know what your reaction will be to something like this.

He eases you into it, He brushes his knuckles over your cheek as your heart sky-rockets like you’re being hunted. Gojo thinks he ought to be gentle with you. Regardless of how this is happening, it’s your first time together. Your fingers tremble as you reach up to grab his wrist. It seems like you’re trying hard to pull him off, and wiggle away from his grip. You ready yourself to give him push back and Gojo times it so that it seems like you’ll be able to break free.

But Gojo is strong. Stronger than you by a lot, and you know that by now. When he finds that you’re trying to escape him, he’s quick to grab your wrists with his hands. They both fit perfectly in his palms. He pulls them up over your head and your eyes widen as you feel his grip - near bruising (though he is trying so hard to be gentle) on your body. He stares down at you.

You look so frightened.

“Wh-what are you..?”

“You owe me one for letting you stay here, right?” He asks enthusiastically, licking his teeth. Your eyes widen “I’ll take this as compensation, okay? It’s a good deal for us both I think,”

“I don’t,” You squirm underneath him “I don’t—I,”

“Shh,” He quiets you, humming softly “Don’t overcomplicate it. Just wanna see you,”

Gojo watches you turn it over in your head. He was wondering about this. What’d you do in these circumstances. If you’d act like you always do, pleasant and pliable trying to do what's best. Damage control for what's coming.

Gojo pulls his hands away to undress you and yours fly to his shoulder blades. You heave as you push, mumbling something about how he doesn’t need to do this. Your expression is grief-stricken. Gojo soothes you.

“You can bite, scratch, kick, scream - whatever works,” Gojo says, communicating his affection as best he can. He drives his hands under your shirt, laying his palm flat over the skin of your stomach. He runs his thumbs over your sides, committing every inch of you to memory. Without his infinity, Gojo feels every part of you “It’s not gonna hurt me,”

You look like you’re at a loss for words. He gives you a warm grin.

“Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” Gojo says after some thought “Is this your first time?”

You whimper, nodding meekly. Gojo groans against your skin. You flinch.

“Fuck, course it is. Shoulda known. Such a sheltered girl like you,” He adds the last part with a hint of condescension, watching your face curl up into a frown.

“Didn’t say it was a bad thing you know,” Gojo is careful as he pulls your shirt higher and higher. Your breath is being held, afraid of what’ll happen if you let g.o “We’re tied together like this. Isn’t that nice?”

“Gojo,” You say, swallowing something. Words that threaten to bubble up that you can’t find the strength to say. You’re not wearing anything underneath and Gojo feels a chill in his spine “Please,”

“Not wearing a thing even though you’ve been sleeping at a man's house all week,” He reprimands. He lets the material sit over the swell of your chest, just under your neck where it stays. He can see the outline of your tits clearly now, just enough light from the open window to illuminate your skin. Your nipples are hard, heaving. Gojo can hear your little heartbeat thump against your ribs “I’m not telling you off you know? I’m glad you trust me. Great job, on that really. But you really should be more careful.”

“Gojo,” You plead again, throaty. The sound goes through his system, sends blood rushing to his cock.

“Satoru,” He insists on, knowing it will take more than that to convince him “I’ll try and listen to your requests if you say Satoru,”

He doesn’t promise to stop, because he doesn’t think he’d be able to follow up on it. Still, with the level of desperation you show - Gojo thinks it’s worth it to gain something out of. You follow up his request almost instantly, lips wrapping around the syllables with a weak breath.

“S-Satoru,”

He gestures to take your shirt off. You’ve become more pliable, if only a little, letting Gojo see all of you completely bare as he tosses his clothes somewhere onto the floor. Shameless in viewing you, your instincts kick in to cover your chest. He clicks his teeth, pushing your wrists together again over your head.

“That won’t do,” He coos at you softly “I wanna see you. All of you,”

You hiccup, sobbing, Gojo reaches his palms towards your breasts, cupping them gently. Your nipples rub against his palms and he groans feeling how soft you are.

“So pretty,” He admires you. Means it. Gojo lets his gaze catch on the edges and curves of you with enthusiasm. Your chest is sensitive to his touch, thumb and forefinger tweaking and teasing your nipples as you remain underneath him obediently. Your eyes look so watery, soft like lilies in freshwater “So cute,”

“Satoru, please, I don’t—don’t want—”

“So ungrateful,” He tsks. He smacks your chest lightly, enough to make you squeal “That’s the only request I can’t listen to,”

You hiccup, looking away. Gojo hums as he hovers over you, seated over your figure. He pulls his mask off from his eyes, material falling into his fingers. Grabbing your wrists with his palms, he wraps the material around them - tight enough to keep you but with enough room so it doesn’t hurt. He places your hands over your head gently, kissing your covered wrists.

“Don’t squirm too much, ‘kay? Stay like that. I’ll make you feel good.”

“I don’t,”

“Hey,” This time he’s stern, and you slink back into yourself. It’s the first time he’s had to use this tone on you and hopefully the last “What’d I say? You owe me this much, don’t you think? After everything I’ve done for you, the least you can do is not turn me away. It’s not like I wanna do anything bad with you, y’know”

A pang of guilt passes through you. You stop squirming. Gojo keens, baring his teeth as he smiles.

“Good girl.” He dips his head to kiss the place under your ear, where your neck meets your jaw. He scrapes his teeth on the skin so you can feel his teeth over your pulse “You learn quick.”

You keep your arms over your head like he’s asked, hesitant and stiff. Gojo can work with that at least. He leans towards you, tipping your jaw so you’re forced to look at him. Tear-eyed and whimpering, a shudder passes through him.

“So pretty,” He mumbles. He leans forward, presses his lips to yours - hand resting on the base of your neck. You make a noise of indignance but Gojo keeps you there. He eases you into obedience, forcing his tongue in your mouth, grazing the inside of your mouth.

He swallows every sound you make. Distress and frustration and reluctance lend themselves to giving in easily. Your body is sensitive to touch, a trail of goosebumps where his hands touch you. On your waist, trying to ease you into it.

He pulls away from you, a string of saliva connecting you.

“First kiss?” He asks. You shy away, clamping your mouth shut. Gojo chuckles, teeth nipping at you “Didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

You remain silent, so Gojo fills the space.

“Mm,” Gojo presses kisses down the curve of your jaw, all the way down your neck where he stops and bites - hard enough for something to be there tomorrow. He undresses the rest of you. You try to resist this time too, but Gojo doesn’t bother putting up a show. It’s easy to overpower you. He tugs your shorts off with your panties and tosses them somewhere. Unceremonious and uncharacteristically impatient.

He takes his time now that you’re all naked. It’s thrilling to watch distress fill your lungs, a ballooned breath and muffled protest. Gojo sucks hickies into your bare skin. It’s only fair to give you something to look at while you’re departed. Your blood rushes, capillaries breaking under the hardness of his incisors - ridges pushed against your delicate skin. He licks the bruises afterwards, kisses them tenderly.

“Gonna be a little sore for a while,” He says warmly. You’ve hit the stage of grief where you’re angry and resilient again but one look from Gojo is enough to make you slink back “Might as well enjoy yourself.”

Despair flashes in your expression.

“I mean it, you know.” He offers, stating it like he’s trying to appease you “You should relax a little, let it roll off your shoulders.”

It seems like you register that Gojo is teasing you. He does mean it, about thinking you should enjoy it. Everything else is deliberate and you know as much. It’s good you’re starting to understand him a little better.

“Why are you doing this to me?” You ask hoarsely. Gojo is surprised by your question.

“Ah, it’s a secret, so you can’t tell,” He starts. He squeezes the fat of your chest in his palms, silver tongued and playful “I like things that I can keep.”

A flash of true horror washes over you and you almost go ragged in realization. Weakened in your resolve once glimmering so brightly, Gojo takes the opportunity to please. He kisses down your sternum, runs his hands across the sides of your chest. He presses this thumb against your hardened nipples, rubbing lightly. Gojo takes them into his mouth. He bites then licks like he licks a wound

It pleases him immensely when you respond. When you gasp in a helpless sort of way and go to cover your mouth in shame. A sense of delight washes over his body and he does it again and again. He teases, changes from sucking harshly to lapping oh-so gently on the skin. Over and over until your voice can longer be contained no matter how hard you try - sharp gasps and cries of desire filling the air.

When he thinks you’re worked up enough, he slots himself against you and nudges your legs apart. He can feel the heat from your bare skin against his body, clothed. How you tremble underneath him. He eases his hand down gently, fingers trailing down to your pussy.

You hiccup. A sob of defiance stifled with obvious arousal, forced from you so easily. Gojo laughs.

“You don’t wanna?” He pricks, intentionally. Gojo lets his middle finger ease along your slit, dragging his digits up and through - catching on your achy clit “Are you sure?”

It’s torture for you. Of course it is. A pretty, sheltered little thing. It’s your first time with something like this and he’s sure all this is too much for you. Even if you tell yourself you don’t want it, your body can’t refuse him. You can’t either, try as you might. That’s why your legs are spread and why you’re practically dripping for him. Gojo thinks of it as admission. Your clit is hard underneath the pad of his middle finger, as he rubs too light and too gently.

You cry out, pitchy and broken. Gojo laughs.

“You need it here,” He punctuates, adding enough pressure that you gasp “Need me to touch you here, hm?”

You shake your head at first. Gojo tucks himself against your chest, sucking the skin gently.

“Be more honest.” He encourages a mockery as he so barely presses his finger inside of you - threatening to touch but never doing it “What do you want?”

“Don’t, I don’t.” You say, or you try.

“Liar,” He snips playfully against your clavicle “Your pretty little pussy is dripping wet and you want me to believe that?”

Gojo smacks your cunt softly. Once, then twice, then three times for good measure as you cry.

“C’mon,” He encourages meanly “Tell me what you really want.”

It’s a sick little mind game that Gojo is having too much fun playing with you.

“P-please,” You stutter, so unbelievably broken with so little done to you at all. Gojo will take all of you at a later time. When you’re thoroughly pliable and broken and so beautiful all for him “Please.”

So dependent like Gojo always thinks you should be.

“Please what, hm? What are you asking for?”

You swallow thickly. All your dread and doubt and disbelief gone as a sense of real and true need ignites within you. Of course this is too much for you. Gojo overwhelmed you like this on purpose. The resentment of wanting despite it all, despite how miserable you are makes for something so tragically Gojo’s. Whatever you have in your heart will always be for him. Good or bad, ugly or beautiful - like this you are all his and so perfectly too. It’s titillating, the sensation of control that wisps around him. It strikes him like a hammer on hot iron.

Gojo wants you to say it. Wants your selfless little heart to beg for his mercy this once. You’ll understand some time later, that this is how Gojo loves. Selfish and twisted. Cruel. Intimate beyond mortal comprehension. All of him just for you, just like this.��

Strangely, it's perfect. Gojo teases you some more. Toys with your clit and feels a pool of arousal rush and drip from your sore cunt. He hits it with the palm of his hands as you try to form the words. You tremble in his arms, a vestige of your will to resist.

You want to resist so badly, he can tell. But it hurts now to leave it alone and you want it despite yourself. It makes you so frustrated you cry. Limp, crystal tears down your face that Gojo licks up nearly immediately. Salty and bitter. Gojo kisses the apples of your cheek, nose nudging your skin.

“So cute when you give up.” Gojo praises sincerely. You sob somewhere deep inside of your “Be good and be honest. I’ll reward you, hm? How’s that?”

Gojo can feel the moment you give in completely. When acceptance settles over your hazy and contorted mind. You let the tides take you, curling into yourself. A sound like you’re in pain even though you’re not hurt.

“Please touch me.” You whisper, hoarse and defeated. Gojo laughs airy, peppering your face with kisses. You wince.

“Good girl.” He coos, dipping his fingers down lower and lower. Heel of his palms pressed into your swollen, needy clit “That’s all you had to do. Easy, right?”

You scowl at him (you try too).

“Open your legs, baby,”

You listen this time, opening your legs wide enough for him to touch. Your pussy is so wet for him. Sticky and soft like you’ll fall apart, Gojo thinks it feels divine, wants to squeeze and grope and touch until you’re disintegrated. He likes feeling you like this. Vocal chords strung tight, all the noises throaty and gone. You throb against him like you’re begging. Gojo doesn’t stand to let you acclimate, flipping between three fingers in a gentle rub to a soft and well-practiced spank.

Only when your words start to come out t0gether, like you’re spitting them out because they fill your mouth too quick - does Gojo bless you with any mercy. He lets his hands sink lower, deeper - until his middle finger brushes your twitching hole. Your breath hitches, and the hands once stuck to your side, reach for Gojo’s hard to hold.

He licks his teeth, some unspoken feeling sending an bullet through him as he feels your body resist. Needy thing you are and so untouched that even the point of your middle finger makes your breath slower. You’re wet enough he doesn’t need anything else to aid him. He pushes in slow, slow, slow - painstakingly carefully as your wetness envelops you.

Because he intends to cherish you in his own way, he resists the urge he feels to flip you right over and take you. He’s being kind, and you’ll realize it later - when you’ve adjusted to him a bit more and know when to pick your fights. If he didn’t think it’d ruin the set-up, he’d have flipped you on your back just feeling. Fucked you without any consideration, just to feel your pussy around him in a vice grip.

It’s all he can picture, but he shows restraint. He’ll fuck himself off on you when you’re sleeping maybe, just to scratch the urge. You might pass out before then.

He comes back to you like that, a promise to himself to give the relief he needs with the body he finds oh-so tempting. He pushes his perversion aside to touch you. You let out a little sound every time he fucks himself deeper, gets his middle finger down to the first bend the all the way to the knuckle.

When he thinks you’re adjusted - ready for more, he gives it to you without making you plead. He uses his ring finger this time - his longest ones and feels you stretch around. He groans, deep and appreciative, as he feels how tight you are. You preen, squeeze your thighs together and call his name

“Oh, Satoru, its.”

He shushes you before busying himself with tasting your skin. Closes his mouth around one of your tits as he repeats the process. In, in, in until he’s all the way to his knuckles. Fucks you till it’s easy, till you’re wanting more.

If he were more merciful, a good man or a better one - he’d stop here. He doesn’t though. A third finger has your eyes widening. You gasp. Gojo kisses your face again and again.

“Easy, easy,” He coos, voice coarse but encouraging “It’s a good exercise for the future.”

You don’t register the words and Gojo doesn’t expect you to. Even still, he thinks giving you the heads up is quite nice.

Three fingers proves to be more than enough. It pushes you to an edge he has seen before. He fucks you with three. Your mouth falls open, slack jawed. Gojo curls his fingers. He rubs up like he’s motioning for you to come here, deep enough until he feels it. That spongy spot inside of you, apparent through the sounds you start to make as he touches it.

He hits something of a stride like that, finger fucking you with pressure on your clit and his mouth on your skin. Gojo takes to watching you once he knows he’s getting you to that edge. Your body stiffens underneath him, breathing going noticeably shallow. Mouth wobbly, lower lip trembling. He can tell you’re feeling it, just as much as you’re resisting it. Gojo coaxes you by whispering against your skin.

“C’mon,” He hums, nudging his nose to your neck “You wanna cum don’t you? I can tell you. You too scared? Need me to help you.”

You whimper “Aah, aah,” Gojo can feel you pulse. Can feel your insides tighten. He’s doing it on purpose, tipping you just over the edge. He wants to hear you beg. Wants to know what it sounds like when you beg for him. He fucks into you slowly, until you’re no longer able to put on a show of being composed.

“S-sato—oh, please, oh—please m-make me,”

“Want me to making you cum? Say it. Say, ‘Satoru, please make me cum,’ can you do that?”

A bitter sob leaves your lips and Gojo can’t think straight. It strains you.

“S-satoru, pleasemakemecum—please.”

Gojo grins. “Of course I can,” He quickens his pace enough to make you feel it. Your eyes shoot open before screwing closed again “All you had to do was ask me.”

He watches you intently. How you fall apart under his fingers, delirious whimpers of no, no, no - even though you begged so sweetly a minute ago. He hums as he feels the walls of your pussy start to tremble, a soft squelching sound hastened now. You say something he can’t decipher, words too jumbled for him to make sense. Gojo stares hard. Lets the infinity bleed away so he can feel you just like this, feel you cum on his fingers despite everything.

He feels giddy to the point he’s sick with it, moaning as your hands grip at the roots of his hair. He kisses your breast tenderly, just over the latest lovemark.

“Don’t hate me too much, kay,” Gojo says, whispering, means it so you carry it with you because he can feel the resentment nudged so deep into your heart by now “Come on. Cum for me, sweet girl. Want you to feel so good.”

And so you do. You cry, scream - but the noise amounts to nothing. A cosmic thing, like you’ve been struck by a comet. Gojo fingers you through it, absolutely delighted at the hot rush of liquid that comes pouring out of you. Your first orgasm from him and you’re squirting all over his fucking wrists, soaking his sheets and his arms and his PJ’s with your back curved in a beautiful arch. You break apart in an almost violent way, like the pleasure’s vicious. It tears into you and you succumb with a whimper.

Gojo shushes you as you break down finally into a teeny, tiny sob. You must be exhausted because you don’t pull away when he comforts you, despite the little angry why, why, why that you whisper. You hit his chest softly. He kisses your forehead and listens as your breathing goes still and you fall asleep in a heart-beart, still curled up into his bed and too tired to run away or go anywhere.

He stays with you like that, relishing in the warmth of your body until you’re deep asleep. He flips you onto the side of the bed that isn’t wet, and presses a kiss to your forehead before moving out of the sheets. .

When he stands to his feet, it’s to collect the curse that’s gathered itself on the foot of the bed. It manifests as a white snake with blue-eyes. Gojo finds himself amused. Of course the curse you’ve made is pretty. Gojo grabs it by the neck, watching it as it pries its mouth open and bares his fangs at him. He grins, pricking himself on the teeth to see if it makes him bleed.

It hisses loudly before wrapping itself around Gojo’s arm. It doesn’t take any effort to subjugate it, sensing his power it stills with some effort. Gojo tilts his head as he walks out of the room, glancing at you before turning his head back at the snake.

“Better warm up to me,” He whispers in the dark, a contentment to his words “You won’t be seeing your mama for a while,”

—

Communication stills.

Radio silence, more like - a busy bunch of messages deftly still. Suddenly, a raging storm of grief and anger disappears. The morning after Gojo assaults you, he wakes up to see you off like nothings happened.

He mostly does this because he wants to see what you’ll do.

You spend the morning perplexed and confused. You eat breakfast with him. You sit at the table, contemplative and silent and Gojo chats away at you idly. About the news and the weather and the classes he has today. You chew your food but don’t taste. You listen but your replies are short and stilted - out of touch.

Gojo learns that when something bad happens to you, you respond to it by detaching yourself. Though yesterday you were hot and fiery, the day after you seem to be mourning. Your grieving process starts early, and Gojo thinks rather amused—that you remind him a lot of himself.

He thinks you’re a little closer now that you understand the apathy of losing something that can never come back. And once this whole thing is over, once you find yourself back here - he’ll tell you all about it. You get it now right? It’s painful to feel like you can never be the same.

They say that mankind was fashioned from their Lord. Gojo supposes he’s made you in his image. You look a little empty, and though you’re both so different - you can become close by having the same wound. You can understand him a little more this way, all while retaining your sense of resilience.

What is mankind not known for if not perseverance? Of course he knows, once you recover from your grief, you’ll return to your usual spitfire. He’s counting on it, counting on you to fight and run. Escape from him and never come back.

But that cat and mouse game is more than okay. Gojo isn’t looking for your obedience, really. You’re too defiant of a character. Gojo thinks it’d be pointless if you’d just stayed the same.

You need to have hope to stay the way you are. Thus, Gojo doesn’t plan to rob you of it. He figures it’s best to give you breathing room. After all, he has full confidence in his ability to find you. He could hear the rhythm of your heart a continent away and chase it down without thinking twice. But it’s better if you’re able to show him some resistance. He thinks of it like a compromise. That sort of thing is typical for married folks, he thinks. He gives and you take.

Eventually, you might realize that the endeavor of running away is fruitless. Maybe you’ll be clever enough to recognize that it’s not that you’re succeeding, but that Gojo is letting you. You’re definitely smart enough to do so early, but just stubborn enough to believe that there’s hope in spite of that. If you try hard enough, persevere a little more, etc.

Gojo likes this part of you. Always will. You always put your best in everything and this is his own way of nurturing it.

It’d be a shame to take that from you. Gojo has remained out of your sight for the time being to try and reinstate it. While he raises the curse up in his apartment, he watches you through windows and flitters into your bedroom to peer at you before disappearing again. He makes sure that you can’t sense him or that he’s gone before you can. The more ease you feel, the easier everything else will go.

Feeding the curse you’ve left behind in his house has been taking most of its time. It’s obedient to him since he’s strong, and it’s big now. Longer and wider and more sinister looking (he feels a weird affection for it, maybe just because it’s from you), more hostile. He’s been careful to maintain it. Too much feeding will make it overgrown.

It’s currently on Gojo’s floor, on a dog bed like a disobedient pet - all in a single coil. He has to be careful not to endanger you by making it too strong or giving it too much range. It’s just meant to be a showpiece - a prop at best and a scraped knee at worst.

He’s been building it up for a long time. Then, though, it wasn’t such a clear desire. He figured sewing seeds of fear in you would benefit you in a different way. But that’s fine. The means don’t matter as much as the ends and in doing so - he’s made this all sort of seamless.

It’s not a complicated plan, ultimately. He’ll tell the curse to let loose, freak you out a little, and eventually - you’ll call the only person you know who knows how to handle it. Gojo will save you, and when you’re finally caught in his arms, you’ll have a little reunion amongst yourselves. He’ll reprimand you (but only lightly) and you’ll thrash (but only for a little while) and then he’ll keep you by his side again.

Except this time he won’t be so quick to let go. He’s sure you’ll protest (and be all gung-ho about it). He’ll feign cruelty and push you to the edge. Whatever response you do have, he’s thought of a way to reply.

A way to tend to it.

Like any relationship, things take time. He’s not expecting this to settle right away - but he’s confident eventually it’ll work out how he wants too. Gojo can make that happen as long as you’re within view.

He watches you through the window as you come in from your classes. You’re dressed up today despite the chilly weather - a blouse and nice pants with bangles on your wrist. He wonders what the occasion is given the time of year. Your bag is hanging loosely off of your shoulder - having only just returned.

A sense of warmth spreads through him as he peers at you, a smile on his face. He really does like looking at you quite a bit.

The curse hisses at the sense of your presence and Gojo waves a hand at it to keep it quiet.

“Calm down or I’ll exercise you right away,” Gojo says coldly. It retracts itself. “I’m getting impatient, too, you know? It’s been a long time.” He says wistfully.

He keeps looking until you’ve effectively disappeared from his sight. He listens for you outside of his door. The sound of the building buzzer, soft footsteps, and the slight jiggle and turn of keys before you’ve gone in - sound by a dull thump.

He leans against the wall near his door where he was listening, eyes up at the ceiling as he turns over his options. He should wait it out a little longer. Giving everything enough room to mellow out before it picks up again is an important part of the process.

But he doesn’t know how much longer he can wait. Plus, keeping this curse around is starting to be troublesome. He’d much prefer you back in his arms, in his bed - all back to that kind domestic fantasy that he’d been thinking about again for weeks.

He supposes there’s no right decision, in this case. Just what he wants to do, versus what he should do, and some kind of middle ground he’s been spending too long looking for.

He stands to his feet, no longer leaning on the wall before glancing at the curse from the corner of his eyes.

“Today seems like it’s too soon yet too far,” Gojo pauses between sentences, scratching his head woefully “But it should be okay, right?”

At 7pm, the curse slips underneath the door of his apartment into the hallway. Gojo sits comfortably in his living room, one leg crossed over the other with his phone in hand, a warm mug of tea cooling on his coffee table.

The news is playing. A general and loose sense of anticipation fills him as he pays attention to the newscaster. Another storm is going to hit and the temperatures are dropping to an impossible low. Officials recommend buying bottled water and keeping warm as it continues to blow out.

There’s a soft hiss as the muscled curse squeezes itself underneath the tight crack of his door. It’s unfortunate he can’t monitor it directly. Though the instructions ( and subsequently the consequences of disobedience) were made clear - curses are greedy as they are stupid. This one in particular seems to be self-aware enough not to try to go against Gojo’s word.

So, when the time comes he sits patiently and waits. Watches the news. His ears itch and his skin pricks as he listens for the first whisper of your voice. He wonders if you’ll scream. You didn’t when he thought you should’ve but maybe there's a reason for you to do so now.

The clock ticks away. It’s unceremonious. Gojo thinks to himself that maybe this entire thing is esoteric. Capturing you is a tragedy that he writes to himself and he’ll re-tell it to you all the time in different ways.

The clock ticks. Again and again, the monotony is starting to settle in. Time moves slower than you could imagine. Like trying to pipe honey into straw, thick and impossible.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

At 7:02, a dog barks outside. It sounds cagey, and it’s not Pokupan because Gojo knows what that mutt sounds like. Nor is it cosmic. It does sound desperate, though - like asking someone to be let in. And if Gojo didn’t have such a pressing matter to attend to, he’d go outside and do it himself. After all the wind is frosty and the air is unforgiving and winter devours things so slowly it's painful.

Gojo can’t abandon his task. It’s too important for him to stick his neck out for a being he doesn’t even know. He hopes briefly that it survives. That someone lets it in before it gets anymore violent (or desperate or willing)

At 7:03, he reaches for the tea on his coffee table to drink it. It’s still piping hot, but Gojo can swallow it with his infinity. He does for a reason he can’t name. It’s just a compulsion, inspired by the fact it will probably be too cold when he comes back for it. He thinks, instinctively, that he should cherish the warmth in the glass despite the barrier that prevents him from feeling it. Ultimately it’s still milk tea. It will still fill his stomach and taste vaguely sweet where he permits. He ought to drink it when it’s warm even if it’s just an illusion.

The clock ticks again, this time to 7:04 and Gojo regains a sense of bravado that’s riveting. There’s a commercial airing now for a new type of kitchen gadget, an airfryer with more settings than any one person knows what to do with. The advertiser is enthusiastic and loud. He wonders what happens when it switches to the next one. Do actors on set feel awkward when the cameras turn off? He knows a thing or two about performing, which is why he finds himself so curious.

At 7:05, the first whisper of your pleading filters through the hallways. Though Gojo figures he’s not meant to be able to hear it - because however vague it is, the sense of shame that it holds is hard to ignore. Despite his urge to run to you, Gojo is reminded of the fact he is teaching you a lesson and this is all a show for you and in a way for him too. There’s timings and cues and calls, so Gojo lets your first prayer get passed through the winter winds. He’s sure it gets dropped off somewhere in the snow.

The dog outside bares its teeth and barks louder than before.

At 7:06, the feelings of fear and negativity start to weasel their way into his apartment. Through cracks in the floorboards and the aeration in the spackle - he can feel it come through his door and penetrate his being like waves of wind. With no barrier and no filter, your fear is a familiar presence in his life. It comes to a crescendo as he leans his head back on the couch and blinks up at the ceiling. He’s pleased with it so far. It’s proving to be just right. All the months of delicate orchestration have culminated into such a lovely overture. A symphony of sobs. It enchants him like a bird song, or maybe the whistle of a blizzard.

He waits for it to die down. He waits for it to start back up again. He waits for the sniffling to become sobs and for the sobs to become demands and for the demands to go back to sniffles. He waits for the dog outside to be let in because he can hear the buzz of the gates all the way from his apartment.

When Gojo has had enough of waiting, it’s 7:15 sharp.

He stands to his feet and walks through his door with not so much as a look back. The T.V. is still playing where he fazes out and he leaves it because this will be quick and easy.

You’re right across the hall. The walk is short. The building moans like it’s dead.

He stands in front of your door and presses his ears to it and there’s some semblance of an altercation. Mostly the sounds of shattered glass.

If you were any more familiar with this world, you’d know the thing is stalling. It has harmful intent but Gojo’s presence is too risky. If you knew anything about anything, then you’d know you were never in any real danger and even calling Gojo’s name when you hate it so much now would be pointless.

But Gojo has done his due diligence in keeping you in the fateful dark.

So this part is easy. He reaches for the door but it’s locked, so he teleports.

When he enters, your apartment is in terrible shape. The curse itself notices his presence but does not stop to act. He stops to take a look around. He figures you’re cornered and holed up in your bedroom. A trembling figure in the corner praying for God to save you.

Your house is effectively thrashed like there’s been a robbery. He’ll have to make up something in the report. Officials will come, but they won’t question his word. All the glass is broken and scattered and everything is torn up. Papers ripped and fabric shredded.

(The stuff Gojo demanded not to be touched has remained that way. Even he’s not so much of a monster to ruin your students' keepsakes. He’s sure you’ll look relieved when he returns them to you later. How kind he is.)

He prepares himself like an actor might for a role. He thinks of the lines he’s practiced and the way things will play out. This simple, choreographed tragedy. A manifestation of your fears. Gojo thinks that he is probably good at becoming the thing people love yet resent.

He’s sure you and Suguru would have a lot to talk about in another life.

He checks the time on your digital clock, left unscatched in all the destruction.

At 7:18, Gojo phases himself into your bedroom like he’s only just arrived. He hears you gasp in a sharp fear that quickly breaks into a sob of relief. He glances at you where he stands. He’s never been in your room. Kind of a waste it’s happening like this.

The first thing he does is check if the door is locked. When he finds that it is, he laughs to himself but covers his face before he turns to you. You are exactly how he predicts. Something curled tightly into your fists, fearful and backed into a corner. He coos internally. At what he's done to you. How this has played out.

It wasn’t enough to break you a little. This part is necessary.

Like he starts most interrogations off, he asks you question.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, Satoru.” Your voice sounds shattered in such a way he finds it almost hard to stomach “Oh, it’s—Oh it’s you.”

“Happy to see me, huh?” He says, tilting his head. You close your eyes instead of replying.

“H-how’d you…?”

“I can feel cursed energy,” He says, and it’s not untrue “I felt something very strange in your apartment. It’s been a while.”

You still can’t find it in yourself to say anything. Maybe desperate, maybe afraid, maybe exhausted by your own paranoia - you relent.

“Yeah.” You say. Gojo can feel the curse grow impatient. It lets out a loud hiss and you gasp in fear.

“Hey, you didn’t answer. Are you okay?”

You stare at Gojo for a long time.

“I’m not hurt but,” You swallow thickly. Upon looking at you closely, you look exhausted. He feels a little sorry for you. He’ll let you rest for a while when you’re home “I’m s-scared.”

“You’re right to be scared,” Gojo says, and he means it a little. Not about the curse, but in general “It’s a pretty powerful class. A special grade, probably. You share cursed energy.”

You look agape as he relays this to you.

“Share…?”

Gojo gives you a look. He can feel the creature coming towards you door down, slinking across the wood slowly. A coy, soft smile appears on his expression as he reaches down for you. You flinch from his hands but Gojo doesn’t falter. He strokes his thumb across your cheeks, peering at your eyes and how they reflect light from the outside.

“It was made with your cursed energy,” Gojo explains very gently to you. You look at him in disbelief “Curses are negative emotions. So something like this isn’t uncommon. No idea how it got so strong, though. But that’s all your.”

He watches you closely as a wave of horror settles over you. A nauseous feeling that has you cupping your hand over your mouth like you’re ready to throw-up. He masks a smile, but he doesn’t condescend you. Not openly, at least. Not to the extent he would like too. He reprimands you like a teacher - a sensei and his beloved mentee.

“I told you didn’t I,” Gojo says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders as you quell your own disgust at the thought “You have to be careful. And you can’t fight all by yourself, so you’re kind of helpless. What were you gonna do if I wasn’t around?”

You look like you’re going to cry. Gojo keeps going.

“You can’t call the police, you know. They can’t help you at all. Good for nothing bunch, really.” Gojo states, gesturing vaguely. He tugs his masks off of his eyes so you can get a better look at him “But you can rely on me if you need to. I’ll always protect you. Next time just give me a call, okay?”

It must dawn on you, just then, what exactly Gojo is doing. Or some extent of this is hitting you for the very first time. The look on your face is picture perfect. It’s exactly what he wanted. An understanding he’d be hoping for for so long it’s unbelievable.

“I’m the only one who can keep you safe, understand?” But he’s not really asking. You know that too “Can you nod your head and agree?” He pricks. You don’t hold back your tears but you don’t cry them either. You break down silently nd you nod.

Gojo reaches down and wipes them off for you.

“Don’t be so sad,” He says to you, and he means it because what a shame it would be to wallow too much on such a nice day. Winter is for warming up next to your loved ones, isn’t it? “I’ll protect you now.”

Left with no choice, you nod again slowly and clutch your pillow. Gojo kisses the crown of your head and leaves you to untangle your feelings.

Then, almost on cue, the curse itself bursts through the door. The wood breaks off with the hinges.

It’s really a weak thing. If Gojo was trying to keep his powers contained, he might’ve put up more of a fight as it lunges at him in your bedroom. It knocks over your things left and right but he’s mostly busy trying to muffle the noises so he doesn’t disturb the neighbors.

It’s as fast as a gust of wind as he strikes out, neck elongated and jaw as unhinged as far as it can go. This time, Gojo can feel the weight of its desire to kill. A rampant sense of bloodlust in it’s every action, Gojo dodges each attempt and swipe at him. He leaves a barrier over you temporarily so that it can do you no harm.

It doesn’t go for you either. He figures maybe it has some understanding of its own predicament. Desperate animals can be clever too. Perhaps those things have always been linked together.

But he figures a fair-ish fight is as much as Gojo can do to stave the thing off before he sends it off officially. Plus, he can feel you watching his back - like you’re trying to measure how strong he is. It’s a smart thing to do. You’re learning. It’s probably better to show you now, since there’s not much left to hide.

So this time, when the snake comes flying towards him - Gojo reaches his hands out. He uses his infinity to stop it in its place. A noise of anger leaves its mouth, a low hiss as it hits the wall in front of him. Wide blue eyes stare at Gojo, a predator with its fangs bared.

Gojo stares back, a predator with its fangs bared.

He uses a reversal of his Limitless, the infinite blue. The creature is pulled into him closely, crashing first into the space he’s created before disappearing into nothing but smoke and ash. It’s gone just as quickly as it happened. A curse so inferior, it can’t have been more than ten minutes to fight even with all the purposeful delays Gojo set in place to finish it off.

It’s gone now, the product of you and him. A weird part of him is sad. But now he has you, so he cuts his losses. Now there is only you and Gojo, and a ruined bedroom and broken apartment.

Gojo, who has no intention of enlightening you, turns his back to look at you.

“Don’t know how long it’ll be gone but,” He shrugs, rolling his shoulder and cracking his spine “But it’s gone for now. Some officials will be here in the morning but with the way this place is, you might wanna come back to stay with me for a while.”

This is all a formality. He’s sure you know too, but instead of turning away - you’re shivering figure wavers in the dark. You’re terrified enough to reach for his hand and hold it. You know what’s coming, but that knowing does nothing to save you. You were a victim to fate from the moment you met. Yet, you still look to him for comfort in safety because even knowing better, there isn’t anything you can do.

And it’s just like you, to want to trust and forgive him. To reach your hand out hesitantly and try. Everything is tangled up and you are terrified and Gojo Satoru loves you.

“Come on,” He says, encouraging you to get closer. He reaches over your bed to scoop you into his arms and you don’t do so much as protest “Let’s go home.”

Gojo brings you home quietly.

When he enters, the T.V. is still on. You are curled up in his arms. He has no idea how long you’ve been crying and about what in particular - but that’s okay. Tonight, to him, is something like an anniversary. Like any time before, he has no intentions to treat you roughly.

It’s a good night, he thinks. Even in the state you’re in, Gojo can only think of making it even more memorable. You’re an injured thing in his arms. A delicate bird with clipped wings, or a butterfly with a missing antenna. Without Gojo there to pick you up in all your broken pieces, you might’ve really fallen apart.

It’s reasonable enough. For someone like you, he’s sure tonight has been so scary. It makes him feel a little sorry for you. It makes him want to make it all worse before he makes it all better.

He can’t describe it, but there is something so right about seeing you like this.

All angry and resentful and volatile. All lonely and scared and saddened and somber. All Gojo’s forever, permanently through everything. He’s made you so completely in his image, something he’s always wanted to do. Maybe you’re a trial run, in its own right, of all the things Gojo will be able to do in the future. What he’s capable of creating with enough effort.

Gojo is gentle to you. Tender, as he carries you into the apartment. You help him turn off the T.V. and put the mug into the sink. He carries you too afterwards, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple, before pulling through the threshold of his bedroom.

Just like that, you find yourself again in Gojo’s bedroom like you were so many weeks prior. You’re weakened and exhausted, so willing that he is endeared. Like this, he hovers over you. Looks at your tearstained face and smiles so lovingly.

Regardless of everything that’s transpired, above all - this is a reunion of two lovers to Gojo Satoru. So in the midst of it, he wipes your tears and kisses your cheek and you don’t pull away. Now you’re so ruined you relish his comfort if only a little, and this time it’s perfect. It’s everything he’s always imagined.

He’ll give you hope and freedom and let you be. Eventually, you’ll come to realize you’ll always need him a little. And it doesn’t matter, does it? That he’s made it that way on his own. Because it’s true. It’s righteous and religious and godly. Gojo Satoru is not god, but he does understand the urge to make something that listens.

He kisses your soft cheeks and hums at you, nose nudging your skin.

“Still feel like crying?” He asks you. You blink up at him like you’re only just now realizing where you are. Some emotion overwhelms you, but ultimately you shake your head no. Gojo grins impishly.

“That’s good,” He says tenderly. He kisses your lips this time, and you kiss back. It catches him off guard but he doesn’t dislike it “You didn’t get hurt did you? And now we’re together again.”

This does seem to incite waterworks in you but you don’t look like you have the energy to cry. He doesn’t push you too much. Though it is fun seeing you like this, Gojo is grateful he has some time to cherish you.

“Scary world out there, y’know?” Gojo says between kisses. He adjusts you, your arms around his shoulders loosely “Hold onto me okay? I’ll make it all better.”

You whimper under your voice but don’t go to thrash. There’s something about you that feels limp. A spirit softened and dampened, like wet soil. Gojo is okay with anything as long as it’s you, and there is some part of this he likes too. How pliant you become under the weight of your fear, so tantalizing to Gojo he can’t help himself but kiss you. Riper than the fruit of Eden. Just as sweet.

He kisses you for longer than necessary. It’s intimate and hopeful. All tangled hands and pulling different parts of you up to his lips.The occasional press of his teeth in your skin, with his senses so high he can practically feel the blood rush through them. Your mouth is soft and warm, the breadth of mint on your tongue. He pushes his tongue past your lips but this time around, you don’t do anything to refuse it.

So accepting like this. Gojo thinks life with you will prove to be exciting.

He rests his hands on your waist and you don’t pull away from him. Such soft skin covered in a sheer layer of sweat. It’s making him dizzy to have you like this, to kiss you in his bed. Again, again, again. You belong here with him and nothing has ever been so true. The euphoria of everything is overwhelming. He can’t get enough of you. Even if in the moment he carved a spot into you forever and buried himself there, he cannot help but want to be spoiled by your lenience and affection. He can’t help himself but to possess all of you so even time cannot spoil iit.

Despite yourself, you touch Gojo back gently. Knowing you, it is a way to deal with the pain. You want to forgive him as much as you want him to save you. You hate him as much as you love him.

From the beginning, everything has been exactly like this. This was the end of all ends.

This is a lesson in divine truth.

You’ve made Gojo this way as much as he’s made you. If Gojo Satoru is to play as God, then he supposes you are much like an owner. Some part of you has made him love you unconditionally. A dog and his master. An animal with a love so violent it shakes windows. Gojo Satoru makes you love him through violent means, and like a dog left abandoned in the snow - your own empathy for his unconditional but broken love makes you protect him. It’s cyclical. It can never change because the universe has ordained it. Because everything Gojo touches is a divination from the heavens.

Where Suguru proves to be a lesson, you are the dues he is owed.

This is a lesson in divine truth.

More simply, Gojo Satoru loves you in his own way. Any loyal dog will chase its owner no matter how far they run. He lives for you, after all. He’s made you in his image. The difference between god and dog is nothing more than a matter of positioning.

You love him back in your own way. Because his character and his tragedy makes it so difficult to abandon him and your disposition will never allow you. You’ll hate and resent him. You’ll grieve and you’ll cry. You will want to turn your back but he will always come to save you. And who can love you so loyally as a dog undisciplined? Who can keep your sheltered being protected like a wild hound?

Spring was an innocent century ago. Winter is here. Gojo loves you.

“My birthday passed recently,” He tells you. You blink at him.

“Oh?”

“Can you guess what I want?”

You don’t do much more than nod. It’s not permissive. You just know better by now, and that too is not something Gojo finds himself pleased with.

“You don’t have to do any work,” He offers you as a reprieve, busying himself once again with undressing you. You’re still wearing the clothes he bought you all those weeks ago “Just don’t run away from me.”

If you notice how heavy the words are, you’re smart enough not to do anything. Even still, Gojo can’t tell if there's a purpose behind it. Perhaps you just know it instinctively not to.

He takes you apart carefully. Careful, thick fingers unbuttoning the front of your shirt. You’re wearing nothing underneath, and the sight of your bare skin is almost too much for him. The hickies have yet to heal, though now they’re yellow and softened by time. Gojo will have to leave more to bring back all the color to you.

He starts at your jaw this time, teeth against your earlobe. Heart in your hands, he knows your body a little better now.

And he takes his time with it this time too. Even slower than before. Even more consuming, even more adoring.

He laps his tongue against your soft skin and eats. Your skin is salty and sweet and Gojo can’t contain himself. He gropes you lightly, planing his palms over your shoulders and squeezing your breasts tight. He’s missed touching you more than he knows what to do with.

Even in being gentle, there’s little he can stop himself from trying to devour. You lay about him squirming as he undoes each and every part of you. He can’t pick which place to go and what thing to do first because he wants so wholly. It’s making his head spin to listen to your sweet and short whimpers. You spread yourself as you lay under him, hands pinned to your sides - demure and needy.

How different it is but the same. Something about how you’re clinging to him so desperately is making him feel sick with lust.

Instead of going any further, he pulls away from you momentarily. He puts his arms on your sides and flips you over till you’re on top of him

The sudden change in position leaves you gasping for air. Gojo gives you an amused grin as you fall forward - as he props himself up on pillows while you try and steady himself. He holds you close to him once you’re all set, face to face like this.

“Don’t run away from me,” He says, more seriously. You swallow. Gojo lets you up until you’re half-way over him. You’re so much weaker than him, moved and manhandled so easily. There’s a target on your back so often and Gojo loves being an arrow.

He kisses the side of your body as you stand on your knees beside him. His fingers hook into your shorts and panties, sliding them off of your body all in a fell swoop. He squeezes your ass slightly, spreading you apart.

“Look at you all bent over for me,” He coos, hands reaching underneath you to toy with your pussy. You whine, shuddering, clinging to his shoulders. “So pretty, baby. Prettiest girl.”

A hiccup bobs in your throat. Gojo moves his fingers lower and lower, familiar now with the feel of you. Your cunt is just as welcoming as he remembers. The idea of making love sends a shiver through his whole body. Blood rushes to his cock like a bolt of lightning in his veins. He pushes his middle finger into your twitching, needy hole.

Another sound, cut off by a garbled word of surprise, falls out of your mouth. You’re soaking. Ripe for taking. Gojo wants to fuck you more than anything.

He takes a deep breath, whispering to your skin.

“Fuck,” He laughs, giggling at the thought of it “I’m gonna break you, huh? Gotta be—shit, need to be extra careful with you, right my love?”

“Please be gentle.” You say at his request.

“Of course, of course but—” He squeezes your hip as he feels his middle finger go into you down to the knuckle. You roll your hips against him involuntarily “You just—you’d look so good so full of my cock, y’know? Been thinkin’ about it for weeks.”

And he has, means every word. You shudder at the confession. He quirks his lips as he fucks into you, relishing in those pretty little sounds that fall out of your lips.

“You like that?” He grunts, another finger to stretch you out a little more for him “You like when I tell you about all the dirty things you make me think about?”

Shame fills you, like Gojo’s lit a match under you. He can feel your heartbeat pick up. Is it the being so wanted or is it the crassness and humiliation? Maybe both. Sometime later he’ll pick it apart more closely. He lets himself talk you through it, so close to your skin as he whispers all the filth to you that he can. Confesses it to you.

“Weeks and weeks, baby. Couldn’t stop thinking about how perfect and wet you would feel when I finally took you like this. Gonna make it so good for you, you won’t have to think about anything else again.”

The promise sends you limp. When Gojo finally feels both of his fingers slide in and out of you with no resistance at all, he sighs lightly and pulls away. The loss of contact makes you whine, but he brings you back to his lap now, sitting with your legs on either side of his.

His cock, clothed and restrained in his sweats, swells against your wet cunt. He watches your eyes widen as you stare at it, lucid enough this time to realize what it looks like. He looks up at you, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“C’mon. You can look.”

He guides you to the waistband of his sweatpants. You pull his pants down slowly, looking up for permission (which Gojo gives in a loving nod) before taking his boxers off too. His cock is so hard it’s almost painful. The tip is a flush red, white hairs trimmed neat at the base and feeling so fucking heavy Gojo can’t stand it. He hisses as your hands reach for him instinctively, and you try to pull away before he stops you.

“Touch it, sweetheart” He encourages, wrapping your hand around it for you “Feel it? That’s all you.”

A flush graces your features. For a minute, it’s all love and nothing more. Nothing less. Too briefly for it to mean anything, but enough for Gojo to know it. You wrap your hands around his shaft and stroke tentatively and Gojo groans shamelessly into you, rutting his hips into the round part of your palms.

“Fuck that’s it,”

He looks at your expression, examining the concentration before chuckling. Your lip is poked out, eyes dazed. He pulls away from you, securing you close to him.

With the new proximity, he holds his cock close to you. Measure it up against your skin, against your tummy. He feels you against him, Around him, folds nudging apart for him, The skin on skin alone has him so breathless. A dizzy sort of feeling as he presses the tip of his cock hard against your clit. You feel like silk around him.

Looking at you like this, all helpless and needy, he can’t help but think about how easily he can overpower you. He’s stronger and bigger. His cock would be enough to split you in half. How he’s gonna make himself fit inside of you spins in his mind over and over. Maybe like always, your pretty little pussy will yield just for him. You’ll open and endure and take him so deep.

He can’t help appreciating it. Can’t keep his thoughts quiet from telling you.

“See that? How deep I’m gonna go?” He measures up to you. A hand on the bottom of your stomach, stroking his thumb “Gonna feel me right in here. You ready?”

You close your eyes and look away. Gojo grabs your chin and tuts at you.

“Nuh-uh. Want you to see. Don’t close your eyes.”

It’s not a question or a request.

So, you watch. Gojo lifts you up just enough to line up with your entrance and sinks you down so, so slowly on his cock. It’s agonizing how slow. It’s incredible how fucking good you feel. How perfect one sensation could possibly fucking be - Gojo could die here in complete bliss. He can feel the stretch of your pussy trying to accommodate. That sensation of resistance that sends him reeling, spine tingling and skin prickling with a heat so intense he feels like he’s going to pass out just sitting there.

And then there’s looking at you, which proves to be an entirely new animal. You have this pinched expression, a shocked little gasp as Gojo pushes through. A whimper leaves your lips. Gojo rubs his thumb on your lower lip as he eases you down.

“Hurt too much?”

“N-no. Just… feels weird.”

He laughs a little at your honesty, before fucking himself into you even deeper. Another inch and he really starts to feel you. Your walls feel like they’re sucking him and Gojo wouldn’t leave if it killed him. He groans, deep in his chest as you shake. Your grip on his shoulders gets tighter and tighter.

With one more smooth thrust, Gojo sits you down on his cock completely. He feels so complete like this. Everything in him is at ease feeling your insides spasm and melt around him. He sighs contentedly.

“Still okay?”

You nod weakly.

“Can I move?”

Your reply is nothing more than a whimper.

So he does, but he does so slowly. Just to get into the rhythm. He thrusts up slowly.

‘O-oh. Oh, oh it’s,”

He chuckles against the crook of your neck, hugging you close to him. He loves the way you feel against his body, the way your frame fits so perfectly into him. He rolls his hips up into you so there’s no effort on you to move. You whine that time, and he does again and again until your voice is a mess.

“Starting to feel good?”

“S-satoru.”

He swears.

“Fuck, stop that,” He swears “Gonna—shit, gonna cum right away. Moving so hold onto me tight, baby.”

You take his words for it. Gojo feels your soft tits pressed into his chest as he pulls your hips up and starts fucking up into you. Each time he does, he feels like he can feel all the way to the back of you. None of his fantasies could compare to the feeling of being this deep inside, cock nudging against that sweet spot that keeps making you fucking mewl into his ear. He can hardly take it as it is now, focusing hard on not cumming until you do.

Making it good for you is his priority. Always has been, but you make it hard for him like you do most things.

“Touch yourself for me, okay?”

You look at him surprised but listen to his request regardless. Gojo takes to fucking you steadily. He builds an even rhythm as he keeps you up, hands firm on your hips as he pistons you from underneath. The pleasure comes in waves, undulates as blood continues to rush to his cock. He’s so hard he can’t think straight but he keeps each of his thrusts consistent, lines them with the pace you play with your clit so he can encourage you to cum for him.

He can tell you’re starting to feel good when your mouth falls agape. He drags on your walls with each punctuated movement and your thighs shake and tense. Everything comes together so slowly but the pleasure comes at once. It’s a force that’s nearly earth shattering. All the planets aligned, everything in the same plane. Everything for him and for you. For the togetherness he’s created and chased after so long.

Now this part of you is all his too.

“Sa—Satoru,” You warn, your hands trembling and fingers cramped up with need. He grunts as he stares up at you through thrusts “G-gonna…”

“Gonna cum for me? Gonna cum on my cock? Go on. Know you can do it, baby. So good for me. Perfect for me.”

It’s all babbling for him now, the sensation hitting him in waves. Your mouth falls agape and you cum so hard Gojo can feel every fucking pulse. Squeezing his cock hard enough he wants to grit his teeth. He presses his mouth to yours instead as you moan out, unable to hold it in. He swallows every noise like he’s trying to embed them into himself.

You cum hard and fast and Gojo is so quick to follow you. Only seconds after you fall limp into his arms does he feel it - no longer able to stave off the urge to cum so deep in you it stays forever. To mark you deeply you never think of anything. It’s almost animalistic for him. Every nerve on his body is on fire as he shoots his cum deep into you, sitting you on his dick with nowhere for you to go.

Panting, he pulls back to gaze on you. He’s still hard as he’s twitching. He can’t hold off tonight, he doesn’t think. But he’ll give you a minute to collect yourself. He presses a kiss to your hairline.

He whispers softly as the night comes to a quiet, quiet still.

“I’m yours and you’re mine baby. Forever and always.”

You shake. And Gojo knows you well enough to know that it’s the resentment coming back in waves. But that’s okay, because Gojo loves you.

And with this, he’s taken everything.

EPILOGUE / OVERTURE :

Your senses are accustomed to Gojo by now.

You never thought such a day would come. You spent the first year of this relationship (if you can call it that, to begin with) in trenches so deep you couldn’t really tell left from right. So many things persisted as normal, but nothing was ever the same.

In that, though, Gojo stayed by your side till the bitter end. He nursed you back into health and sometimes treated you so kindly that you could almost forget who you were dealing with. Sometimes the weight of everything became too heavy. You think you love Gojo almost as much as you hate him.

But it doesn’t particularly matter what your feelings are. Has it ever, in any of this? You always knew that something was strange but you didn’t think you were so clueless. Blindly following wherever his voice took you.

The first time you try to escape Gojo feels like so long ago. That time, he let you go quite far. You made it out of the house and even went out of the country during summer. But you were sloppy and inexperienced. When he found you and brought you back home, you figured it had been a fluke. You’d learn from it. You’d do it again and that time you would succeed.

That’s what you told yourself anyway. It’s how this all started. Where you would run, and Gojo would let you before he started to miss you. He’d come and he’d discipline but it was never too cruel.

(You wished it were. You wished it were sickly and sadistic and tortuous. You think it’s so much worse to beg for mercy when you are sobbing from pleasure. For Gojo to coddle and sedate you and never yield. You think you’d prefer if he were just out of it. Just cruel instead of what he is. Which is knowing but certain. Justified.)

This has been the farthest you’ve ever gotten. You don’t think you’ve ever been this far away from home. A cabin in the woods where you lived peacefully for days. You don’t know how Gojo found you.

You had been so sure. This was it. It had to be it.

Your heart shatters as you hear him. Feel him in your bones so much it frightens you. The world is covered in a sheet of white, and your ankles are bruised and bleeding from where you’ve fallen. You’re cold and your heart is beating so loud - but no matter how much you run you can’t find any heartbeat to motivate you.

Gojo pulls through the thickets with a frown on his face. Blue eyes and black coat, his feet crunch the snow as he comes towards you. You crawl away. You try too, anyways.

Gojo leans down to your level, looking at you closely. He reaches out to brush snow away from your skin.

“My birthdays soon, you know?” He hums, not angry today. Not even wanting to discipline you “It’s not a bad place, y’know? The cabin. We can spend some time there before we go home. Might be nice. But we should get going so we can check on your foot.”

He reaches his hand out to you this time. Too injured to run, you take it and he smiles before offering to carry you on his back. You hop on, arms around his neck and don’t even cry. A numbness settles.

It is not the cold.

“Oh, look,” Gojo says, reaching his hands out “Snow’s falling.”

You suppose it is. Another Winter will pass just like this.

A dog howls somewhere far off in the distance.

#writing tag #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #jjk smut #noncon cw #yandere cw #manipulation cw #coercion cw

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adventuringblind · 10 months

Text

Hidden In Plain Sight

Charles Leclerc x Reader x Max Verstappen

Genre: Angst to fluff

Summary: A misunderstanding about profession leads to fluffy confessions

Warnings: Misunderstandings

Notes: This is what healthy communication looks like... my therapist would be proud

Masterlist

Psychology is one of those things that relies heavily on the power of observation. She isn't going for a doctorate in the subject for nothing. Watching and understanding is something she thrives at.

It's one of the reasons she and Charles have been together for so long. He gets lost trying to communicate and she helps him get to wherever his point is trying to go. She gets stuck over analyzing and he helps her process.

The one thing she's noticed in their time together is Max. Charles is his number one fan. It's a given, undeniable fact that she has come to love. Every interaction they have leaves Charles a mess and he's admitted to having a crush on the Dutch.

She doesn't mind one bit. Sure, her and Max might not be close, but they've had a few conversations here and there. If the human heart was only made to love one person then earth would be a sad place.

She's not surprised when Charles comes running up to her one day looking disheartened. He'd been talking about Max and his struggles. Specifically, the fact that sometimes Max gives hints of information just to shut down again.

Hence Charles asking Max to hang out more often. Specifically with her because where Charles fails in his responses, she knows how validate the small pieces Max gives them into his head.

She was never intentionally hiding what she does, she just didn't say anything about it and neither had Charles. Max had been adamant about not receiving help because he's fine and the two didn't want him to think tlthat she was going to be pulling tricks out of her sleeve. All they want is to make sure he knows that people care about him.

Max ends up coming around more often then not. She finds him around the paddock and makes sure to tell him goodluck. They go out to dinner and stay up in the living room playing games til ungodly hours in the morning.

Until Max found out. It was inevitably going to happen at some point. How is she supposed to keep masters, soon to he doctorate, in psychology hidden. Especially considering how close the three were becoming. She just wished it wouldn't have been the way it happened.

A knock at the apartment door alerts them close to midnight. They were in bed, ready to sleep and incredibly cozy.

Charles stumbles out first. A look of concern in his eyes as it could be a friend with an emergency. Which isn't wrong. Technically speaking.

She falls out of bed when the Dutch accent of Max fills her ears. It's angry at something and she's nervous Charles is about to get the brunt of whatever triggered Max.

She hops out of bed and scurried down the hall. "Max?"

His eyes are red and bloodshot. Muscles tense and rigid with squared shoulders. He's defensive. "You lied to me!"

Charles is standing like a dear in headlights. He looks clueless and lost on what to do. "Max, please-"

"What did we lie about, Max?" She gently takes a few steps closer to Charles and taps the Monegasque on the shoulder. A signal that he can relax a bit. Well - more like needs to for her sanity. She'd rather not have this escelate any more then it is.

"A psychology degree? When we're you planning on telling me?" His voice cracks. "Our whole relationship is a lie! Was this sone kind of sick ploy to use whatever I said against me, Charles? Using your girlfriend to get into my head?!"

She looks at him in understanding. "I can explain everything in the way you deserve, if you'll let me?"

Max reluctantly takes a seat in the living room. It's comfortable here. Less formal then the dining room table.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"That was my idea and I apoligize for that." She starts and Max seems to relax a little when he sees he apologetic look. It was never Charles' idea. "I wanted you to feel comfortable around me without you thinking I was trying to look into your head. Charles had wanted to become better friends and that included me being around more. I didn't want to ruin what you two have because of my profession."

Max's gaze becomes infinitely softer. His lips part just a tad and his eyes have a glossy screen over them.

Charles takes a deep breathe and she places a hand on his knee. A gentle reminder she's there with him. "The truth is, Max-" he shudders a but before continuing. "-I've liked you for a very long time. It was selfish of me to want to get closer to you. You just seemed so down recently I wanted you to feel cared for because I truly do care for you - both of us do."

"Both of you?"

"Yeah... the more I got to know you the more I could see what Charles sees." She laughs a bit at herself.

"I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions. I was just so upset that you didn't tell me. I - I guess I felt betrayed because I like you both. No, wait, we're being honest here right?" Both her and Charles nod him along in encouragement. Max looks at the ceiling, then the floor, then back to them. "I think I love you both? It's weird to think about, loving two people at once. I wasn't sure how I felt until I heard and then I realized how angry I was that I'd been played. And I just - I want you to know that I appreciate how kind you both have been to me. Maybe, if you're both willing, we could give this a try?"

Charles' eyes go wide. She thinks that he may pass out in shock until he starts talking. "We're cuddling. I don't care what either of you say. I think we all need it."

It may not have been the best way for Max to find out, but it led them here. Max comfortably tucked into the middle of the bed, all of them knowing how cared for they truly are.

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sweetprfct · 7 months

Text

High Infidelity

Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader

Summary: Did you really have to chart the constellations in his eyes? Did you really have to tell him how he brought you back to life?

Author's Note: Babe by Taylor Swift, High Infidelity by Taylor Swift, Illicit Affairs by Taylor Swift, My Tears Ricochet by Taylor Swift, Wildest Dreams by Taylor Swift. I don't know... I don't know... I don't know. My mind is all over the place the past week and needed to write this down for some distraction. I don't know... I never done a back to back series nor have written something like this, so yeah. Forgive me for all the trigger warnings. Everything is all so crazy. This is a very very hard thing to write because of past emotional abuse experiences in real life that still terrorizes me and maybe it's a letter for the past experience to let it go.

Disclaimer: 18+, emotional abuse, mention of harming, infidelity

(Please, please don't read this if it triggers you. I need you all to think hard about it before reading this one. This is a bit of a dark fic).

Wordcount: 3.2K

part one - part two - part three - part four - epilogue

“Late again?”

Your boyfriend, Eli, asked you the moment you entered the flat. You were kicking off your shoes by the front door, eyes full of exhaustion as you sighed. He was by the kitchen heating up some leftovers. You didn’t exactly understand how it was “late” because technically it was only 9pm.

“Yeah, the event went pretty late.” You replied.

You technically left the event early knowing that Eli would start asking where you were. That was how he was these days. Keeping count of everything you did.

You were technically not an official assistant in the team. You just started this job, and it was more of a paid internship that you applied to because you needed the money, and it paid really well. You worked for Joseph Quinn’s team. A British actor who got pushed into the limelight too fast after his appearance in Stranger Things.

Joe was nice. His team was nice and very organized and all you had to do was bring Joe’s things, get coffee, and help his team organize whatever they needed for Joe.

That was all.

Nothing too complicated.

Nothing for you to really complain about nor do something that could ruin this whole internship that you applied for.

Well, at least that was what you thought.

“That’s a nice dress.” Eli stepped out of the kitchen, his eyes studying you as he ate a piece of chicken.

For some reason, his eyes studying you like that made you feel angry and annoyed. It wasn’t like he was doing anything to you, but the tone of his voice was making you feel annoyed.

“Thanks. I’ll go freshen up.” You gave him a small smile, giving him a quick peck on the lips before heading down the hall.

“I’m sure many men were staring at you tonight.” Eli added his little comment that made you stop halfway from your steps and looked over your shoulder.

“I was just doing my job, assisting.” You reassured him before continuing down the hall and into your bedroom.

You weren’t going to lie. Your relationship with Eli for the past two years has been rough. He was constantly jealous, constantly making rude comments about what you wear and how you wore your makeup to the point where you had stopped putting makeup on. You had changed your whole closet to just jeans, t-shirt or jumpers. You changed your whole style and personality because you didn’t want any trouble from Eli. You didn’t want to disappoint him.

However, this new job of yours came with the responsibility of dressing up and wearing makeup when you accompany Joe through the many events or movie premieres. That made Eli squirm even more for the last four months whenever you came home wearing a nice dress and nice makeup. He would comment how the dress was too short or the dress was too revealing.

“I wore a jacket, don’t worry.” You would tell him.

“Next time, pick one that isn’t so revealing.” Eli would scoff. “You’re mine. You don’t need other men looking at you.”

You could feel the love in your relationship was slowly fading, and you didn’t know how to get out of it. You were too scared to do something about it. Terrified even what he could react or say towards this decision of yours if you ever decided to cut this off. Eli had been very aggressive towards his words to you and sometimes, even if he wouldn’t say something, you could see the disappointment all over his face. You were a people pleaser, and you were the kind of person who didn’t want any trouble, so you tried to give what he wanted most of the time.

It made you hide inside yourself even more. It made you feel insecure. It made you terrified of every decision you made because you didn’t want to upset him. You didn’t want to see that reaction on his face even if his lips were saying something else. It made you feel like you were walking on broken glass every time.

Sliding yourself under the covers next to Eli that night, you saw his eyes studying you the moment you entered the room and brushed your hair in front of your vanity. His eyes never left you until you laid next to him. He immediately moved himself close to you and pulled you in his arms, hugging you from behind.

“So, how many more events do you have to go to?” He asked.

You sighed, closing your eyes. Eli was never interested in your job. You knew he was asking about it, so he knew what he was expecting. By that, it meant he would be monitoring the outfits that you would wear and the people that would be around you in that event.

“Not sure.” You murmured. “I’ll let you know once my supervisor lets me know.”

Eli lets out a soft hum and kisses you on your cheek before turning you to face him and kisses you roughly on the lips, towering over you. For a second, you went with it and kissed him back, pushing your body against his and letting him have what he wanted. He lets his soft fingers slide the strap of your tank top, kissing your bare shoulder. His lips found the skin of your neck as he softly sucked onto the skin, a small gasp escaping your lips.

“Babe.” You whispered, slowly pulling away. “I’m tired. I’m early tomorrow.”

Eli sighed, letting himself laid back down on the bed next to you.

“You’re always tired.” He argued. “The last time we had sex was last week.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just tired today, and I have to get up early tomorrow.” You turned your back on him, closing your eyes.

“Right.” Eli said sarcastically, getting up from the bed.

You looked over your shoulder, sitting up on the bed as he made his way towards the door.

“No, c’mon. Don’t be so upset.” You said.

You could see it all over his eyes that was getting upset, and you knew if you didn’t do something about this, he wouldn’t talk to you for the next two days. He would make up an excuse that he was busy and that he would be with his friends.

“Come here.” You reached your hand out to him as he paused in his tracks and stared at your hand.

He gave you a small smile and walked towards the side of your bed, taking your hand in his as he kissed you hungrily and towered over you on the bed. You let him touch you in all the ways he wanted to, but you just felt numb. You couldn’t breathe as you stared into the white ceiling and kissed him back softly, letting his fingers brush against your burning skin. You felt disassociated as he kissed you hungrily and pushed himself inside of you.

You felt nothing but disgusted with yourself for being so weak.

That was how you have been feeling lately with your relationship. You felt trapped and you felt like a chain has been around your neck lately, and Eli was pulling it every chance he got.

“Hey, could you go to the coffee shop down the block to get everyone coffee?” Alex, Joe’s manager, asked, interrupting your thoughts the next day.

“Uh…sure.” Alex handed you a piece of paper with everyone’s orders.

Your job was always simple but as time went on, your interaction with certain people became more frequent. In the beginning, Joe couldn’t even look at you nor acknowledge you that much unless he was thanking you for bringing him the things he needed. Then, Alex and his team had gotten busier that the things in your list were starting to add up. Part of your job has been added to “make sure Joe is in this place at a certain time,” or “make sure Joe wears this suit instead of this.”

Then, there was the chore that Alex would give you to make sure that his collar, tie or buttons on his shirt was perfect before he stepped out of the red carpet.

“Do you enjoy your job?” Joe had asked you that one time when you had sat on the sofa of his dressing room, waiting for the rest of his team to arrive.

“Sure.” Your voice almost sounded so monotone that Joe couldn’t even believe your answer.

He sat there and tilted his head at you, one brow raised and waited for your real answer. You let out a deep breath, closing the magazine that you were reading and set it back on the table.

“I guess it’s okay. Couldn’t complain.” You shrugged.

Joe let out a soft understanding hum and focused his attention back to his phone, scrolling his time away. He was getting ready for his movie premiere, and you were there to make sure that everything he needed was there. That he looked perfect right before he stepped out of the red carpet.

Not that you hated your job but sometimes, it could get so repetitive that you looked bored after the events. The rest of Joe’s team would go and prepare whatever they needed to, and you would just make sure Joe was fine. That he didn’t need anything.

“Here.” Joe handed you a glass of martini at the after party of the premiere.

“No, thanks. I’m technically still working.”

“And looked bored.” Joe’s face was a little too close to yours as he whispered those words.

You hesitated, your eyes scanning the room trying to look for a sign of Alex. Joe couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head.

“They went home. So, technically you’re the only one left here.” Joe answered the question that you were asking in your head. “C’mon. You deserve it for working so hard all the time.”

Pursing your lips, you stared at the glass that Joe was holding before finally taking it from his hand and taking a sip of it. Joe smiled and took a sip of his own drink, his eyes scanning the room before falling back to you.

“Are you usually this quiet?” Joe asked.

“I’m just doing my job.” You answered, a small smile creeping up on Joe’s face. “I don’t want to interrupt anyone.”

“You’re not interrupting me.” Joe smiled, taking another sip of his drink.

You could tell he already had a few drinks before this conversation. You continued to drink the glass of martini in your hand and didn’t reply a word to what Joe said. You could tell the alcohol was making him a little bolder, and he was trying to flirt. You didn’t want to step into any boundaries because first of all, it was inappropriate, and you didn’t want to lose this job either.

“So, how long have you been here in London?” Joe asked.

“About two years.” Your answers were plain and simple as Joe continued to play 20 questions with you.

By the end of the night, you both seemed to open up to each other a little bit more, and you were able to learn Joe more personally. The thing was that you didn’t realize that night was going to be a start of something new between you and him because ever since that event, Joe’s attention was on you most of the time. He would gaze down at you and give you small smiles, while you would fix his collar or tie before he stepped out onto the red carpet.

Then, during after parties, you would be left to babysit Joe, and you would notice how his eyes would catch your eyes across the room. You sat in the corner and minded your own business, your focus on your phone. However, Joe would walk towards you and catch your attention.

“Wanna dance?” Joe held out his hand.

You bit your lower lip and said, “I don’t dance, sorry.”

Joe sighed and sat next to you, his eyes lingering on the screen of your work phone.

“Whatever Alex is telling you to do can wait ‘til tomorrow.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have a full to-do list.”

Joe laughed softly, raising his brow at you. “A full to-do list? I’m the one who has to stand in front of those cameras and do the interviews, remember?”

Joe had a point.

Though, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “True.”

You and Joe would talk for the rest of the night. You both would laugh and tease each other. You both would start talking about personal things, and he somehow was able to understand you well. It made your heart swell a little bit.

It wasn’t right that you felt this way towards Joe because you were in a relationship. You could just easily let Joe know that you weren’t single and that whatever flirty tricks he was trying to do to you, it wouldn’t work. However, you kept dancing around that subject. You didn’t bother bringing that subject up and towards the end of the night, you both would start flirting a little bit more. Besides the fact that you were in a relationship, you also didn’t want to do anything unprofessional or inappropriate because at the end of the night, you were technically still working for Joe’s team and Joe. So, you tried your best not to lead him on.

That was until you had come home one night and found Eli waiting for you in the living room. You arrived home half an hour past nine, and he already looked upset the moment you had stepped inside the flat.

“Where have you been?” Eli’s tone of voice wasn’t what you liked at all.

“I’m sorry, I had to finish some things. I texted you I was going to be late.” You explained.

“No, you didn’t.” Eli argued.

“Yes, I did. Didn’t you get my message?” You knitted your brows, making sure your voice was calm because you didn’t want to upset him even more.

You watched Eli pick up his phone from the coffee table and looked down at it and let out a deep breath.

“You know, maybe you should look for another job if they keep making you stay up this late.”

You slid your coat off and hung it on the coat hanger and said, “It’s only 9:30. It’s not that late, Eli.”

You heard Eli scoff and shook his head. “So, you'd rather be with them than with me?”

You were confused.

Where did that subject came from?

You didn’t understand why Eli was acting like this. Shouldn’t he be more supportive about your career? Didn’t you tell him that you needed this job because you needed the money? What else did you have to say or do to make sure he would stop this jealousy thing because it was making you so exhausted.

“I… I didn’t say that.” You murmured.

“Maybe you just don’t love me the way I love you. Just tell me, and it’s fine. I’ll happily go.” Eli shrugged, looking down at the floor.

You walked towards him, taking his hands in yours. The guilt inside of you brewed in your stomach but at the same time, you wanted to vomit.

“I do love you. I told you that, remember? I love you.”

You felt nothing.

“Then, find another job… for me.” Eli looked into your eyes.

“I… I can’t. It’s hard to look for another job out there and this pays me well, while I’m able to learn the entertainment industry. You know how much I want a career in that industry.”

Eli’s eyes suddenly turned glum again. He slid his hands away from yours and exhaled sharply.

“Why would you even want to be in that industry? So you could be naked and show everyone that?”

You couldn’t understand what he was saying. You couldn't understand why he was acting like this.

“You know that’s not true!” You argued.

You were exhausted from explaining yourself over and over again, and he just didn’t believe you. You felt like whatever you did was never enough for him. Tears started welling up in your eyes as you watched Eli grab his car keys.

“Wh…Where are you going?” Your voice stuttered, terrified of what he might do.

“Obviously, you don’t love me. I mean… no one loves me, so what’s the point, right?”

You grabbed his hand, trying to take the keys away, but he had his hand in a fist as he tried to slide his hand away from your grip.

“No, stop! Please.” You begged, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Don’t do this.”

“If you love me, you’d do this for me.” Eli replied, his eyes hardened as he stared at you.

You didn’t say a word because what he was asking of you was impossible. You already had lost yourself and your dignity. Your job at the moment was the only thing that you have that could maybe help you get back up again. After a few seconds of not replying, Eli pulled his wrist away from your grip, shaking his head.

“If you find me dead on the road then that’s on you.” He stated before walking out the front door.

“Eli!” You cried out, running out the door, but it was too late as he had already gotten in the car and drove off.

Going back inside the flat, you laid on your bed that night, sobbing and questioning as to how you have gotten yourself into this situation. Questioning every decision you made as to why you were too weak to break this off.

What if you break this thing off, and Eli would actually harm himself? It would be all your fault like he said. What if no one could love you after this? What about the happy memories that the two of you had at the beginning? What if you would regret it at the end for letting him go? You knew you were the only one that he had left in his life. You couldn’t do that to him either. You couldn’t easily just get out.

You were trapped.

Stuck.

Frozen.

Around midnight, Eli had come back home. You weren’t asleep when he had entered the bedroom, but you had your eyes closed. How could you sleep after tonight? How were you able to have a peace of mind if he was out there? How would you know that he didn’t do anything to himself? It would be all your fault if something happened to him.

You just couldn’t shut your mouth and agreed with what he was asking, couldn’t you?

Feeling his arms wrapped around your torso, you felt him nuzzling your hair. You didn’t move. You couldn’t move. You knew he wasn’t going to apologize, so you didn’t try to hope for that. Eventually, he had fallen asleep, holding you that night. A tear rolled down your cheek as you covered your mouth with the palm of your hand to block out your sobs, so he wouldn’t wake up.

At this point, you didn’t know who you were anymore.

You just felt numb and lost, choking in your own tears.

Taglist:

@palomahasenteredthechat @sunvick @eddies-acousticguitar @demonsanddemogorgons @joesquinns @mmunson86 @ghostinthebackofyourhead @corrodedcoffincumslut @figmentofquinn @tlclick73 @browneyes8288 @bylermaxmayfield @ali-r3n @ficsbypix @capricornrisingsstuff @missonlypost @ali-in-w0nderland @amberolivia666 @lalalala-melmosworld @niallersfreckles @nanas-lasagna @emma77645 @indulgence-be-thy-name @readergf

#Joseph Quinn #Joe Quinn #Joseph Quinn x Reader #Joe Quinn x Reader #Joseph Quinn x You #Joe Quinn x You #Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joe Quinn x Fem!Reader #Joseph Quinn Fanfics #Joe Quinn Fanfics #Joseph Quinn rpf #Joe Quinn rpf #High Infidelity #moondustpugh #part one #sweetprfct

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voxmortuus · 3 months

Note

☆ { crying } because of how good it feels

with benny perhaps????😊😊 thank u!

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Benny Cross x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ The Bikeriders ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 378 ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Crying Reader (because it felt so good) | Fluffy Ben | Tender Moments | Smut has been implied | Speaking of Mess between your legs | Benny playing with the mess between your legs | Hint to round two | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... It's short, sweet, and to the point, but I hope this brings you some joy. Prompt from this list. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ @carnevol ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

Granted you both finished, he needs you to communciate, he needs that reassurance that you are in fact okay. Cupping your face in his hands, he searches your face. Planting small kisses on your lips, he looks into your eyes, searching the beautiful hues of color that spread across your iris. Watching you carefully, he took in a deep breath as he pulled from between your folds and moves to lay beside you.

"Talk to me... what's going on?" He asked you, his voice husky, low, and full of love and caring.

"Nothing's going on, honestly. It felt good..." you stated.

"Are you sure? Crying, that's never happened... not all the time anyway." he stated with a slight chuckle.

"No.. no baby, honest, it felt really good, it's just this weird thing that happens to me at times. I promise you didn't do anything wrong." you reassure.

"So, lemme get this straight. You're crying because what I did felt good? You didn't want me to stop? I mean, yeah, there's a fuck of a mess between your legs, but, I mean... I can do it again... if you want." he smirked.

You chuckled looking over him. Leaning you press your forehead against his and nod. He chuckled softly, maybe he liked when you cried, but he wasn't all too sure himself, but knowing it wasn't bad, he wasn't going to worry about it too much, he just wanted to make sure you were okay.

His hand slips between your legs again, feeling that mess, he smirked, his lips hovering above yours, he ran his nose along yours as his fingers moved over your opening, that slick stickyness between your legs was more than enough to cause you to quiver and shake. Biting your lip as he started to stimulate your clit again. You tremble against him softly. Playing with your mess he smirked, you feel as he scoops the mess, using it as a sense of lube for his own cock as he gets between your legs and looks down at you, and searches your face.

"You ready?" he asked you.

You nod, eager, and ready for round two. Will you cry again? Probably, but it was for a good reason. Biting your lip, you're anticipating this feeling.

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ghouly-boiiiii · 4 months

Text

A Light in the Dark 🕯️

Chapter 1: Throwing Stones

Lucy x Cooper Howard / The Ghoul

Summary: Takes place directly after the end of Season 1. As they begin their journey, Lucy is understandably very angry and fearful towards the Ghoul. She hates him, and is only joining him because she wants answers. He, however, is harboring secret feelings for Lucy ever since she saved his life. Having not been with anyone since Barb, and believing she would never feel the same, the bounty hunter has to deal with these feelings on his own. Little does he know, Lucy finds herself having inexplicable feelings for him as well, and struggling to make sense of them.

Tags: Slow Burn, Romance, Angst, Enemies to Lovers, Casual Sex Lucy and No Wait Let Me Court You Cooper, Cooper is touch-starved and rusty in bed, He's also self-conscious about his body, Ghoul channels old romantic Cooper, Lucy is confused by strange surface dweller mating customs, She helps him discover his old self, He helps her discover her true self, Did I mention there would be angst

Rating: Mature - Word Count: 1,742

SPOILER WARNING: Contains all the spoilers. No trigger warnings except eventual sexy time with a zombie man and lots of angst.

In this chapter...

To her horror, the rock shot straight forward and bounced off the back of The Ghoul’s head.

She threw her hands up in front of her. “I’m sorry! I-I didn’t mean to hit you! Please, don’t…”

“Don’t worry…” To her surprise, his voice was gentle and unthreatening. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hurt cha’… But…” The Ghoul kneeled down and picked up a rock, then looked up at her and threw it in her direction.

She watched as fell to the ground at her feet.

“Huh… I missed.” He shrugged with an odd smile, then turned back around and kept walking.

Authors Note: This fic starts out somewhat similar to my other fic, My Name Is Cooper, because it starts directly after the end of the season. They have similar conversations at first, but the tone is much different and the story goes in a completely different direction. This one is more serious (still with some humor though, of course), and is probably going to be longer. I really wanted to do a more realistic, slow burn romance. I know there's a ton out there already, but I wanted to do my own version because idk, reasons I guess lol. But I really wanted to dive deep into how these two navigate their relationship and the very complicated feelings they might have for each other. This is what you might call another free-writing project, so I don't know *exactly* where it's gonna go, but I will do my best to make sure it has a decent ending when the time comes! Inspired by the cool peeps on Discord and touch-starved Cooper headcanons lol.

Lucy felt the cool night air fill her lungs as she took a deep breath and tried to still her mind. It was silent. Nothing but the soft crunch of leaves and dirt under their feet, and perhaps the occasional frog or cricket.

The vault dweller looked out at the distance before them. A fog rose up from the earth, illuminated by the faint glow of a thousand lights that mirrored the stars above. She was in awe, even thinking that it was beautiful. But it was only a distraction from all the pain and confusion she felt.

Her whole world had turned upside down. Nothing was as she believed it was. Nothing was as it seemed. Everything she thought she knew had crumbled into dust within a matter of minutes. She was numb. Overwhelmed. Everything felt surreal. And now she found herself once again alone… with him.

As Lucy stared ahead at his silhouette in the darkness, she felt nothing but disdain. The young vault dweller was taught to forgive and forget. But she was fairly certain the people who taught her that were never fed to a giant salamander or tied up by their neck and dragged around a desert or sold for organs. How could she possibly forgive, let alone forget, such horrible things that were done to her?

She couldn’t. But she had to stuff down her feelings and let it go… for now.

“So… where are we going?” Lucy finally asked. They must have been walking for at least thirty minutes at this point. And he hadn’t looked back even once, only reacting to the dog when she came up to him, and even then with barely more than a glance. Lucy wasn’t even sure if he knew she was still following him anymore.

The Ghoul didn’t answer right away. He waited a moment, before he took a breath and said, “Can’t say for sure yet… but looks like yo’ daddy might be headed for New Vegas.”

“...That’s a town?”

“Big town.”

“Okay…” Lucy took a deep breath. The conversation seemed to be going… okay so far. “So… what’s in this town? Why do you think he’d want to go there?”

The Ghoul didn’t answer.

The vault dweller swallowed hard. She wanted to push, but she knew she had to be cautious. “How do you know my father? Are you going to tell me?”

The bounty hunter seemed to be ignoring her.

She huffed. He was so rude. So rude and inconsiderate and unaccommodating, it sickened her. Maybe if she started with something simpler… “Okay, so… do you got like a… name or something?”

Again, nothing.

Lucy frowned, her tone getting exasperated. “I’m just… wondering what I should call you… You really not gonna answer that either?”

“I don’t give a good goddamn what you call me.” He snapped, sounding a bit angry.

Lucy fell silent and her throat got tight, a bit of fear rising in her. She truly didn’t know what kind of madness compelled her to follow this man, after everything he did to her. She was hypervigilant about his every movement. Knowing that at any moment, he could turn around and try to do... something to her.

With her hand on her pistol, she kept her distance. This one, armed with actual bullets. She wasn’t sure if it would do much, but it was something.

Truly, every fiber of her being told her to get as far away from this… creature as she humanly could, but…

He had answers. And so did whoever they were going to find. She needed those answers. There was no question about it. Sure, she could just turn around and go home. Go back to her life in the Vault with Norm and Chet and Stephanie and everyone else. But she would never be able to live with herself. Those questions would never stop haunting her. She would never stop feeling compelled to seek the truth. Lucy knew this about herself, and her body acted almost automatically as she took one step in front of the other behind those of this two-hundred year old cowboy.

“Look… you don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to. Obviously, we’re not friends. But if we’re going to be working together… we need to at least communicate effectively...”

The Ghoul was silent for a moment, then finally responded, “Well, then… I got a question for you , Vaulty.”

“...Okay?”

“What happened to the doctor?”

“...The doctor?”

“Yeah. How’d he end up with no head?” This time, he did turn his head slightly, although not enough to see her. “...Who cut it off?”

"Uhh... Well, uh... I-I did..." Lucy's eyes fell to the ground.

"You did?" The bounty hunter said in surprise.

“Uhh… well…” She swallowed hard, as she remembered the task. She’ll never forget having to cut off someone’s head for the first time… and, well… hopefully, the last. “He asked me to.”

“He asked you to cut off his head?” This time, he did look back at her, peering over his shoulder questioningly with a raised brow.

“Yes… he… he took cyanide and told me… He told me it would be easier… if I just… brought his head…”

The Ghoul turned to face ahead of him, then just said, “Huh…”

There was silence for a moment, before he asked another question. “What about the Super Duper Mart? What'd you do in'ere?”

Lucy blinked, then narrowed her eyes at him, flustered by the fact that he would ask that, considering he put her in that situation. “...Why do you wanna know?”

“Curious, I guess.” The Ghoul said simply. "It's just kinda funny... what with all that 'Golden Rule' talk, how many people seem ta' end up dead 'round you."

“It was an accident!" The vault dweller quickly retorted. “I didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt... I just…" She paused and looked down at the ground somberly, remembering Martha. "They... they were holding all those people captive… I... I couldn’t just leave them there…”

“You mean those ghouls?”

“They’re people. Maybe they have a condition, but they’re still people..." She snapped, then added under her breath. "Unlike you...”

Dangit. That was not a good thing to say. Lucy bit her tongue, hoping he didn't hear.

She swallowed hard and tried to play it off. “But I did have to kill some of them. So, you know…” She said, trying to sound confident in her ghoul-killing skills. "I'd, uh... watch out... if I were you."

"Heh. Well, good for you, Vaulty." He snickered. “…Anyways, how did you get the–”

“Now! Now, hold on!” Lucy said, holding up a bluish-grey finger. “If you get to ask me things, I get to ask you things.” She lifted her head a bit higher. “A question for a question. That’s only fair.”

The Ghoul peered over his shoulder at her again for a moment as he continued to walk, then turned back. “Alright.”

“Yeah… so…” She looked down at the ground and exhaled, then back up with determination in her eyes. “So I get to ask you—”

“Two questions.”

“Five.”

“Five?”

“That’s right. You technically asked me five questions. Actually, six.”

“Well, that don’t sound quite fair to me, Vaulty.” He said with a smirk. “I asked you two questions. The rest were for clarification. They don’t count.”

She huffed in dismay. It was worth a try, she thought.

He chuckled. “Tell you what. You can ask me however many questions you want. But I get to pick which ones I answer.”

“No! That’s not fair! I answered the questions you asked me, now you’re gonna answer mine.”

“Well, you didn’t have to answer my questions. That was your choice.”

“What!? I–” She huffed, unsure how to counter that.

“Alright… question for a question.” The bounty hunter said, raising his voice, and two fingers. "You got two. Have at it, sweetheart.”

The vault dweller jumped, then quickly ran up closer, but still stayed a few feet behind him. Out of arms reach. “...Name?”

“Pass.”

“How do you know my dad?”

“Hard pass.”

She huffed. “This isn’t fair.”

“And what is, darlin'?” He scoffed, holding his arm out beside him. “What in God’s Green Earth made you think that anything in the wasteland is ever fucking fair? It’s every man for himself out here, sweetheart. Thought you might’ve figured that out by now.”

Lucy growled, and as she momentarily lost her cool, she kicked a rock in front of her. To her horror, it shot straight forward and bounced off the back of The Ghoul’s head.

He froze, and she took a sharp gasp. Oh, no… now she’d done it.

As she watched The Ghoul slowly turn around to face her, she threw her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry!” She said in a panic. “I-I didn’t mean to hit you! Please, don’t…”

The old bounty hunter stood there and just stared at her a moment. “Don’t worry…” His face was in shadow, but she could see the gleam in his eyes. To her surprise, his voice was gentle and unthreatening. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to hurt cha’…”

Lucy rose her head and lowered her arms a little, relaxing somewhat.

“But…” The Ghoul kneeled down and picked up a rock from the ground. He tossed it in his hand once, then stood, looked up at her, and threw it in her direction.

She watched as it weakly flew towards her, then fell to the ground at her feet.

“Huh… I missed.” He shrugged with an odd smile, then turned back around and kept walking.

She looked up at The Ghoul and raised an eyebrow before she continued to follow, wondering what the hell that was all about.

“One thang you gotta learn, Vaulty…” He said, raising his voice commandingly. “Caps ain’t the only form of money up here. Everything you have is potential currency. That includes information.” He said. “You see, that Golden Rule a yer’s only works if other people agree with it. Now that might be all peachy down in your vault, but up here, you don’t wanna be givin’ nothin’ away unless you know you gettin’ somethin’ in return. If you don’t do that, you’ll be eaten alive out here.”

“So… You’re giving me survival lessons now?”

“Yeah… I guess I am.” He said as he turned to smile at her, then tipped his hat up with a single finger. “...But those you can have for free.”

To be continued...

#ghoulcy #vaultghoul #cooper howard #the ghoul #lucy maclean #fallout #my posts #ghouly-boi #fallout prime #my fanfaction

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agentwhiskeysdarlin · 2 years

Text

The Sun Always Rises

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: NSFW 18+ (please read the warnings before you continue)

Warnings: grab your tissues folks because this is a rough one. Fluff, angst, smutty times but it’s brief, p in v sex, slightly rough sex, this is tlou universe so with that comes infected and violence. VERY IMPORTANT PLEASE READ BEFORE CONTINUING: One of the characters dies and there are some heavy themes implied that comes with that. For the sake of not using triggering words, they seemingly help their death along. It’s not graphic and it’s not done in depth but it’s implied. If that is triggering for you please do not hit keep reading.

Word Count: 4.5k (I believe this is my longest fic to date)

Author’s Notes: The fic the world almost didn’t see. I have been writing this pretty much over the course of the entire show and I thought it would be good as a well I won’t say celebration of the show coming to a close for it’s first season. This is probably the heaviest and darkest thing I have ever written and with that came the nerves of not wanting to post it. Thanks to @clint-aww-no-barton for helping me make is a bit better and talking me into posting it. I am actually very happy with this fic even given what happens and it’s probably one of my favorite things I have ever written. I hope you all enjoy and grab your tissues because you will need them. Sorry for the weird time posting! I didn't mean for that to happen but here we are!

ao3 link

The earth crunched under Joel’s feet. His gun held firmly in one hand, his eyes taking in everything he could possibly see. He always walked behind them so he could watch, so he could keep them safe. You laughed and his eyes snapped to the back of your head. You were holding your stomach, Ellie holding that damn pun book in her hand. Joel couldn’t stop his eye roll but he also didn’t stop the tiny smile that pulled at the corner of his lips. It was you, really, that made him smile, you’d been his only reason for so long.

You’d come into Joel’s life suddenly and unpredictably, like the most beautiful sunrise he’d ever seen. You were the embodiment of sunshine and anyone who knew you would completely agree. Including Joel, despite the dark cloud always over his head. Now he had his own piece of sunshine to push that darkness away. His nightmares had always been of outbreak night, but losing you had become a part of them. Pulling him from his sleep with a jolt. He found himself watching you breathe as you slept, to reassure himself that you were okay. That you were still with him.

You turned and looked back at him, eyes bright with a wide smile, and Joel just looked at you and shook his head. A small smirk formed on his lips. You just about glowed with happiness at making him smile, and you stopped in your tracks waiting for him to catch up. Joel fell in step between you and Ellie. It didn’t take long for him to regret his decision.

“What did the grape say when it got crushed?” Ellie read aloud, a smirk forming on her lips.

“Hmmmm I don’t know what?” You spoke from Joel’s left, your voice bright and already dancing on the edge of more laughter.

“Nothing, it let out a little wine.”

Joel shook his head again as the two started to laugh.

“Oh that’s lame,” you laughed.

“That was pretty lame.” Joel finally spoke and you stopped one, hand going to your chest the other reaching out to his shoulder.

“Ah he speaks!! You hear that Ellie? He has a voice!”

Joel rolled his eyes but as he turned to keep walking, he smiled.

“Ah and he’s smiling,” Ellie smirked, wiggling her eyebrows.

Joel caught her giving you a wink as you fall back in line next to him, smiling proudly.

Evening came almost too quickly but Joel was counting all of you lucky. It was like an answered prayer, seeing the small building in such a rural area. Joel checked the small space on quiet feet, then he motioned you and Ellie inside.

“Ellie you’ll take that room. There’s only one door, so if someone wants to come in they’ll have to go through us.” Joel spoke, his head nodding towards the open doorway.

He sat down his backpack to pull out the little bit of food he had. His mind however was on anything but eating. He wanted Ellie in the other room for other reasons. He glanced at you, watching as you slung off your own pack to pull your own food from it. He watched as you set your book out and your bedroll, so oblivious to his plans.

“We’ll eat a bit and then get some sleep,” he spoke quietly.

The three of you sat around and mostly ate in silence. Peppered here and there with discussion of where you were and how much longer you thought it might actually take to get where you were going. All too soon dinner came to a close and Joel moved to the other room, anxiously waiting for you to join him. He let out a sigh of relief when he heard you speak your good nights to Ellie. You closed the door before turning to him, your soft smile becoming a smirk as you noticed him waiting.

*Reader’s POV*

He looked like he was about to devour you. You felt your self growing wet as you began walking forward. You met in the middle, his hands coming up to your cheeks as he kissed you. Joel always kissed with such passion, that every time it happened it felt like the first time all over again. Nothing was ever slow with him either. In a world like this you couldn’t afford slow love making, but you didn’t mind. Having him in anyway you could was enough for you. His hands were everywhere, feeling every inch of you he possibly could. You sighed against his lips, weak within his touch. He had already laid out a sleeping bag, with your packs close by and pillows made of clothes. He wrapped his arms around you and with great care moved you to the ground. As laid you down his lips finally parted from yours and you both panted.

“We have to be quiet sweetheart, alright?” He spoke in a whisper, so quiet you were sure you were the only person who could have heard him.

All you could do was nod and give him a pleading look. He smirked at the way you silently begged for him.

“Use your words,” he spoke as his forehead pressed to yours.

“We have to be quiet now, please Joel,” you panted out, letting a small whine go at the end of your words.

Joel chuckled as he worked to pull your jeans down and then quickly pulled himself out. He didn’t waste time entering you, and you both let out groans at the feeling. This would never get old and you only hoped, with every ounce of your being, that one day you could share a real bed and take your time. For now you took what he could give, and gave him everything you had. It was quick, hands and lips everywhere. Sweet nothings slipped past his lips as his hips moved, soft but quick. You both reached your highs in, what you swore, was record time. He pulled from you and you wished he didn’t have to. You both fixed yourselves, before he pulled the top of the sleeping bag over the two of you and pulled you close. He kissed your temple.

“Sleep sweetheart. I’ll take first watch.”

“Don’t go yet,” you pouted pulling him close.

“I’m going to wait until you’re asleep. I promise.”

He chuckled and you shook your head, curling into him. It didn’t take long, unfortunately, for sleep to wash over you and take you.

The pencil glided gently across the paper in your lap. Morning light crept between the fraying curtains behind you. It was just enough to make out the man that slept on the floor in front of you. You had woken up several hours to take over watch. You’d kissed him lightly on the cheek as he found his own rest, before checking on Ellie. You’d settled in to lean on the wall under the window and at first light you had started drawing. It was a hobby you did before the world went to shit, but you had started doing it more afterwards. It was a way for you to cope and sketch memories. You even found yourself adding in things that were more normal, to make it look like the life you were living was not what it was.

“How the hell can you even see?”

“Don’t move,” a smile pulled at your lips at Joel’s sleepy voice breaking the silence.

“I need to stretch sweetheart.”

“Just a few more minutes. I almost have it.”

“When are you going to let me see all your sketches?”

“The day I die.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I’m not joking,” you smiled wider now.

It had been a thing for you to keep your sketches on lock down. You didn’t want him to see until the sketchbook was full, and you had a ways to go. You hadn’t even shown Ellie, even with her begging. It was a private way for you to record memories, and you were a little scared of people seeing your work. The day you were gone from this world anyone could have at it.

“I’m done. You may move now, my muse,” you spoke with a wide smile as Joel finally sat up.

“I want to see.”

“Nice try. Not happening. Plus it’s not done. I’ll have to add some more things in later. I’ll go wake Ellie. Get a move on old man and make us some breakfast.”

You stood up, shoving yourself off the wall and opening the curtains. When you turned to leave the room Joel stretched, still half under the sleeping bag, eyes squinting, hand trying to shield against the sudden light. You bent and kissed him, that same hand coming to your cheek. You deepened it, unable to help yourself.

“You two get a room,” Ellie’s disgusted voice broke the two of you apart.

Joel and you looked around before shrugging.

“Looks like we got one,” the both of you spoke and you busted out laughing.

Joel followed and then Ellie’s face broke out in a smile.

“You two are gross but in a cute way.”

“Well thank you kiddo. I was just coming to wake you up anyways. Joel here has volunteered to cook up breakfast.”

“I don’t recall volunteering. I was told I would be fixing breakfast,” Joel gave you a pointed look as he stood up, stretching and moving about to work his muscles.

Ellie made the sound of a cracking whip, which only made you throw back your head in a laugh.

“Oh you know it,” you spoke to her throwing her a wink.

Joel stood there with his hands on his hips looking between the two of you, his tongue pushing against his cheek.

“Are the two of you done?”

“For now,” you patted him as you walked past to gather your things in your bag.

Out of the corner of your eye you saw his face twitch with a smile, as he shook his head before squatting down and fishing food from his pack.

The day had been a slow moving one. You felt like the city had only grown bigger, and the three of you would never reach the other side. You glanced toward the sky, noting the sun was starting its slow decent.

“We need to find somewhere to settle soon,” you spoke as you glanced back at Joel.

His eyes connected with yours before he glanced at the sun and squinted.

“Yeah we don’t need to be out in the open when it gets dark.”

“Where are we going to go?” Ellie spoke as she turned and started to walk backwards.

Joel turned around gesturing obviously around the three of you, “well there are about a hundred buildings around us.”

They gave each other a look before Ellie stuck her tongue out at Joel, and as she turned back around caught your eye and rolled hers. You didn’t stop the laugh that passed your lips.

“Okay children,” you glanced back at Joel, who just glanced up at you.

His brows were furrowed and that pout was across his lips. It was honestly cute and you never stopped poking fun at his grumpiness. It was incredibly true that opposites attracted.

“Alright let’s just pick one and see if we need to clear it before it gets too dark.” Joel spoke as he took a turn, heading for a random building.

Thankfully it wasn’t a skyscraper, which you had always hated staying in, and aside from the usual disrepair, it seemed to be standing pretty well. You pulled your gun from your holster, gripping it in both hands, your knife fixed on your belt. You looked from Joel to Ellie, both taking quiet steps. Joel held a rifle and Ellie matched you with a small pistol. You had talked Joel into giving her a gun, after the two of you were jumped and almost didn’t make it out. You gave them both a nod and stepped forward. It was almost like a dance you had known your whole life. The three of you had fallen into a step by step sweep. It’s almost worked every time, with only very few failures. Joel went one way, Ellie and yourself the other. You breathed carefully, walked quietly and listened closely. You heard them before you stepped around the corner, at least a dozen infected. Gunshots fired behind you somewhere and you only prayed it was Joel as chaos erupted.

The infected moved quickly, screaming as they charged for you. You shot as quickly as you could, trying to take down any that came your way. Ellie moved next to you, panicked words coming from her lips, but you couldn’t completely hear what she was saying. You heard more footsteps behind you and a scream, but you were far too late. The infected woman has you down on the ground in moments and the two of you started to roll. Your gun clattered across the ground, and now your knife was your only option. You tried to get angle it to stab your target but it wasn’t working. You let out a scream, trying to pull Joel or Ellie to you, but they both fought their own battles. Complete fear took you over and you became frenzied. Pain shot somewhere up your side and you ignored it as you stabbed blindly. Then a gunshot. You jumped and the infected slumped against you. She started to tip forward, blood oozing across you, as you shoved her off. You panted, sitting there for a beat, before a hand reached out, Ellie. You took it and she helped you up.

“You okay?!” She spoke.

“I think so, yeah. Thank you. Did we get them all?” You spoke the question as Joel ran up panting.

“Are y’all okay?” He looked between the two of you frantically.

“Yeah I think so,” you breathed. “Do you think we’re clear now?”

You felt the adrenaline pumping through your veins start to fade, and fatigue began to take over far too quickly.

“I think we’re good. I found us a few rooms we can stay in, toward the back. I’m going to set some traps real quick.”

Joel motioned, and you followed him with Ellie on your heels, to a few rooms towards the back of the building. Only one window between the two. Ellie took the room to the back with no entrances, and Joel and yourself took the other so you could keep watch and take anything out before it could get to her.

“I’ll be back,” Joel spoke and you gave each other a nod, before he was gone.

Ellie had already went to her room to settle herself and you stood there looking around. You pulled your pack from your back and jumped as pain ripped up your body. Your brows furrowed and you looked down. You felt your stomach sink and bile rise up your throat. There on your side, under a now blood covered shirt, was a bite. You stared at it for a long moment, your hands trembling as you held your shirt to check the damage.

“Fuck,” you uttered with a tremble, voice cracking.

You had to pull yourself together. You had a few hours and you needed to figure out a plan and, worst of all, you had to figure out how to tell Joel. You looked towards the door he had left out of moments before. Your sadness was not for yourself. You knew this was how most stories ended, and you had always been prepared for it. Mostly content with leaving this world, but since Joel it had been harder. No your sadness was not for yourself, it was for him.

The sun hadn’t completely set yet but your lantern made shadows that danced across the walls around you. The three of you had decided to eat and you nibbled at your food, nerves raw and on edge. You kept staring at Joel taking him in, memorizing him. Ellie too. It was time. You needed to tell them both before it was too late, but you needed to tell Joel first, and alone.

“Ellie can um, can you give me and Joel a minute?” Your words were soft, shaking.

“Sure,” Ellie spoke just as softly, her brows furrowed.

You gave her a look and knowing passed over her features. She thankfully didn’t say anything or give anything away as she walked into the other room. Joel looked at you with concern, and you felt like you were going to be sick before you could push the words out.

“Joel I…” you paused, closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “I got bit.”

It came out in a whisper and you couldn’t meet his eyes, as silence wrapped around the two of you. You were trembling again, tears gathering in your eyes. You finally looked up, and the sight you were met with shattered you completely.

*Joel’s POV*

This wasn’t happening. Not again. No. No no no. Joel refused to believe it, even with the look on your face. He wanted to scream, he wanted to break something. Why did he continue to fail the people he loved? Sarah. And now you. Not you. Anybody but you. The cruel world Joel had been living in just became the true villain in his story. Stealing away the brightest light he had in his life. He thought everything had been okay. You said you were okay.

“Joel, please, say something.” your voice pulled him back and his eyes shot to yours.

Tears spilled down your cheeks now and the sight was something so rare, that it only broke his heart more.

“This…it can’t…I…I don’t understand.” It was all he could say.

Then he broke. Joel was a man that didn’t cry often, and he had only done it a handful of times in his life. He couldn’t find a way to care in that moment. You were up on your feet coming to him, as he stood and pulled you to him. The two of you stood there for a long moment sobbing into each other.

“Is it true?” Ellie’s soft and broken voice made Joel look up.

You turned in his arms and he watched as you gave her a simple nod and then she was reaching for you. She shed her own tears, as Joel watched the two of you hold each other.

“Listen to me Ellie,” you spoke through tears, as you gently pulled Ellie away and bent to eye level with her.

Joel just watched on. His little family broken again by the darkness of death.

“You have to promise me to keep going, okay? You have to take care of him. He’s an old man so he’s going to need you,” a small chuckle from the both of you. “But you keep going and you save this world okay, kiddo? You are so special Ellie, and I’m so thankful to have known you.”

“You’re the one that’s special,” Ellie sobbed out. “This is so unfair.”

Joel watched as you pulled Ellie back to you for a bone crushing hug, he knew had to hurt you, but he knew you didn’t care.

“I love you kiddo,” your words were soft and muffled in Ellie’s hair, but Ellie spoke them back with another breaking sob.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Ellie spoke as she pulled away.

Joel watched as you stopped her, grabbing her hand.

“Thank you.”

The words were almost too soft for even Joel to hear, but they were full of knowing. Ellie gave you a nod and then turned and went back into her room, shutting the door that still hung on it hinges. Then you turned and looked at him.

“How long do you think you have?”

“Not much longer,” your words were soft.

“How do you want…” Joel let his words die on his tongue, unable to speak the truth of the matter.

“You still have all those pain pills?” You asked and Joel just nodded.

“I’ll take them and then once I slip away you…”

You couldn’t finish the sentence, but Joel knew what you needed. Even though the thought broke him, he knew that you didn’t want to pass from this earth by the hands of anyone else. He would give you every last wish you desired.

“And I…I want you to hold me. I want you to be the last thing I see.”

The words fell from you more sure and Joel just nodded, swallowing back more tears. He fixed the bedding against a wall so you could be more comfortable. He tried not to think too much as he moved, but failed as his mind raced. He glanced over, seeing you pull a full bottle of pills from his pack and your knife. He settled against the wall and you sat to his left but you didn’t lay down yet. Your eyes locked with his. They were so beautiful, a sight he always loved. They were always so bright, so full of laughter, light, life. Even now, through the tears, even with what was happening you still held that light there. Joel always knew you were impossibly happy in a world like this, and it seemed death wouldn’t even dim that completely. You gazed at him for a long moment, before reaching out to cup his cheek. Your touch sending that electric shock through him. Making his heart rate jump. It was a feeling he never thought he would experience again, until he met you. He fell in love almost instantly, and even tried to push you away, but it didn’t work and he finally surrendered. Joel leaned into your touch, memorizing it.

“Joel Miller you listen to me okay?” Your words shook as you held back tears, but he nodded all the same. “Please keep going. Don’t stop living okay? You have to keep going for Ellie. Get her where she needs to go, but don’t let them…don’t let them do anything cruel to her okay? You are a good man Joel. No matter what you think. You came into my life like a whirlwind and you took my heart. It’s yours, it has been and always will be. If you find someone else, please take the jump. Love them as much as you did me. You and Ellie are going to change this world and I hope you find somewhere to settle. I hope you get to do the things you’ve alway wanted. I’ll always be here.”

Joel took your face into his hands and pulled your forehead against his.

“I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you. You were the light I needed so badly in this dark world. I promise I’ll keep going, if for nothing else but you and Ellie. You are such a bright light in this world, and it’s not going to be the same without you. I’m not going to be the same without you. I love you so much,” Joel broke again and you were right there with him.

He pulled your lips to his and kissed you deeply. He put everything he could in this kiss, wanting to make your last moments the best he possibly could. Then you moved away too soon and he pulled you to lay in his lap. You curled into him and let out a sob.

“I’m scared Joel,” you spoke in a whisper, as you looked up at him and the look in your eyes he would never forget as long as he lived.

“I promise it’s going to okay. You won’t feel anything.” He spoke through his own tears.

After, you curled back into Joel’s arms, and he held you as close as he could, your limbs all wrapped up in each other. You kept your eyes on him and his on you.

“I don’t want to go,” you spoke softly.

“I know. I don’t want you to either. I’m so sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for Joel, I promise.”

“Just look at me okay? Keep your eyes on me.”

You simply shook your head and the two of you feel into a silence that ate Joel alive. He wanted to keep talking, to take in your voice as much as he could.

“I guess this means you can finally look at my sketchbook.”

Your words slurred now, but you cracked a smile, a chuckle falling from you. Joel couldn’t hold back an answering smile, didn’t stop his own chuckle. It was just how you needed to go out. Smiling and laughing, one last special shared moment. Joel watched as your body fell slack, your eyes closed. Even as your face relaxed, there was still a trace of that smile left and it was all so perfect. You embraced death the same way you embraced life. With a smile. So beautiful. Joel let out a sob, his whole body shaking as he rocked you, his fingers pushing your hair away from the spot he needed to reach. He couldn’t stop the sound of his crying that echoed through the empty building. Once your breathing stilled, he pulled you into him, against his chest and sobbed. Ellie was there a few moments later. She was on her knees in front of him, sobbing as well. Joel and Ellie held you for a long moment, till neither had anything left in them.

“We can bury her in that small clearing behind the building,” Ellie spoke after several long moments of silence.

Joel only nodded. Then he stood, taking you with him. He buried you by lantern light. Then sat there the entire night staring at the dirt covering you. When the sun finally made its appearance, it was only fitting that the light seemed to hit your grave first. Ellie appeared and stuck a make shift cross at the head.

“I thought this was a good place, because the sun will always rise behind her. Illuminating her just like it always did.”

Ellie’s words were soft and she ran her finger over your name before standing. Joel glanced up at her and Ellie outstretched her hand to him, which he took. He walked a few steps before he looked back at your grave.

“Goodbye my sunshine.”

Joel took his first steps out of the building, back on the path he had chosen, without you. He knew it was going to hurt for a long time, but as he and Ellie walked, he knew things would eventually be okay again. You had said that you would always be with him and as the warmth of the sunshine fell over him, he felt your warmth along with it. Joel found himself stopping and facing into this sun, eyes closed and a smile pulling at his lips. You were right, as long as the sun still shown, you would always be here along side him.

Tagged: @jimmythegirl @arcadianempress @discogrrl @immundusspiritu @someplace-darker @thisis-theway @ohpedromypedro @scribbledghost @fioccodineveautunnale @princess-and-pedro @phoenixhalliwell @littlevodka @all-hallows-evie @mack4676 @perropascal @audreyshepbvrn @mswarriorbabe80 @kaqua @novemberrain221

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller angst #joel miller smut

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weeeeeekly · 2 months

Text

quarter life crisis – ot5 tomorrow x together x afab!reader

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blurb !!! Reincarnation can bring soulmates together despite their time apart. Being a huge fan of TOMORROW X TOGETHER helped you get through the struggles of entering early adulthood. You would thank them personally if you ever could but when you possibly get the chance it’s more than what you could ever hope for.

info !!! txt are still idols, reincarnation au, soulmates au, polyamory, throuple²… they’ll all eventually date each other, mc has mental health struggles, universe assigned lactose intolerance, team no kids, glasses wearer, lives in the middle of fuck nowhere but still a city (just go with it), pet names used are “our love” and princess, & not edited.

wc: 4.1k (idk what happened)

WARNINGS !!! NSFW, MDNI, 18+, extremely self-indulgent, soft yandere!txt, mentions of mental health & self-harm (nothing graphic) for entire series

author’s note !!! This is fiction!!! this is made up!!! I do not condone breaking in, stalking, and other ulterior motives to get close to someone you are romantically interested in.

why are there not more ot5!txt x fem/afab or gender-neutral reader… mandatory note that i do not think txt act like this in real life. I also cannot come up with a blurb for the life of me, so please peep the info tags.

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CHAPTER NINE

extra warning for triggering topics for child neglect, shitty parents, & self-harm.

& general warning for SMUT and sexual jokes!! mentions of afab (assigned female at birth) body parts like tits & pussy, reader isn’t a virgin, men on men action, oral (fem receiving), fingering, handjob, cum eating, PIV (penis in vagina) sex, unhuman levels of stamina & recovery periods, sixsome (??)

You’ve always hated your birthday.

Ever since your 11th birthday, it has become an enemy. A reminder that you are half of both of your parents. A reminder that you’re still here after all these years.

That – despite everything – you’re still you and you have been through everything. Suffering through life events that most people, especially children, should never have to witness.

The memory of your mom letting go of your hand in the middle of the crowd at the busy mall so she could smoke a cigarette leaving your 7-year-old self to wait for her. Or when your dad unscrewed your bedroom door off its hinges and tossed it in the trash after you got a C on a math quiz in 7th grade. Or when your parents spent your college tuition on your 17th birthday to go on separate cruises leaving you at home alone.

You happily spent the night before your 18th birthday in a shitty motel a few hours away by bus, surrounded by two suitcases that held your only belongings. With a box of cupcakes, you bought at the store a few minutes ago, blowing out a pretend candle as you blocked your parents’ contacts to never reach you again.

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A month ago, your life changed for the better when 5 of your favorite guys moved in next door for reasons you still don’t know to this day. The 6 of you also developed a close relationship with each other in such a short amount of time. You guess it could be contributed to the pull Soobin and Taehyun always talked about.

Thinking back on it, you did occasionally get this feeling in your stomach that felt like someone, or something was trying to rip you in half from inside. Usually, you would chalk up any sort of pain in your abdominal region to be period cramp related, however, the feeling would always happen when it wasn’t near your period. The last time the pull happened was right before you left work the day TXT appeared.

You had just gotten into that stupid fender bender right before an 8 AM to 4 PM shift and started to space out around lunchtime. After you had your break, mainly your boss talking about her niece, your stomach started feeling weird after you got back to your desk.

The same feeling as the pull.

You doubt that you’ll ever get a concrete explanation for that, pushing the thought away since you had work to get to.

Watching the sunrise was one of the few positives of living in your town. The rest of the drive to your work was the same old routine as usual. You go through the rest of your motions as you clock in to work. You smile at your phone from the texts your friend sent.

roomie HAPPY BIRTHDAY! 23! I’M SORRY THAT I DIDNT WISH YOU EXACTLY AT MIDNIGHT :((( THEY HAD ME WORK IN THE NICU AND THIS BABY WAS TOO CUTE TO PUT DOWN

roomie ILL SEE U TMRW TO GIVE U UR GIFTS GOTTA WORK AGAIN I LOVE U

you i love you just as much

you don’t overwork yourself <3

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

Your metal water bottle drops to the floor from your hands as your boss and coworkers hold a cake and birthday balloons in front of you. There’s the faint hum of a speaker playing a piano version of the “happy birthday” song as the people surrounding you have smiles on their faces.

“Blow out the candle!”

Closing your eyes to make a wish, your mind is only repeating one single thought to wish for.

I wish that everything stays exactly the way it is now.

You don’t want to leave the dream that involves TXT being neighbors, hanging, and kinda being smitten with you.

When you open your eyes, you break into a smile that hurts your cheeks. One of your coworkers hands you a neon blue napkin to wipe your oncoming tears. Letting out an embarrassed laugh, you dry your eyes as your boss hands you the first slice of cake.

It’s exactly the way you want it – cold, triple layers with your favorite filling in between, and a scoop of lactose free ice cream on the side. You never realized that someone paid enough attention to you to get your birthday cake right. Or that anyone wanted to pay attention to you.

This makes you tear up all over again.

“Since I’m the greatest boss in the entire world,” Your boss starts as they eat a slice of cake, “And it is your birthday, you’re free to go home after this to have a 3-day weekend.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah! I got cake. If everyone else leaves early too, I can go see my niece.”

“I won’t keep you from that.”

You thank everyone for surprising you, pack a big slice to bring home for your roommate and the guys, and happily head home.

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The second you unlock your door, Beomgyu pops a mini confetti canister while shouting “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, OUR LOVE!”

Your jaw drops as you take in the sight before you – Yeonjun and Soobin coming around the corner with a homemade cake with candles, Kai throwing rose petals in the air, Taehyun holding a giant gift bag, and Beomgyu taking your stuff from your hands to lead you closer to the middle of the room. Your living room and kitchen area have been decorated with streamers in rainbow colors and bunches of balloons covering the floor.

They sing “happy birthday” to you as Beomgyu hugs you.

“This is almost the best birthday gift ever. Thank you, guys, really.”

Beomgyu leans his head on your shoulder as you blow the candles out “Almost?”

“The best gift was opening my door to see TXT staring back at me.”

“Aw.”

“I really cannot thank you all enough for doing this for me. For even knowing my birthday.”

Soobin feeds you a piece of the cake he baked earlier that day, making sure to watch your expression to see if you enjoy the food. You compliment him on his baking skills as the others share the cake as well.

Since you’re sitting down, you can finally live in the moment as you start to enjoy your birthday, but just a little. It isn’t until TXT starts doing show and tell with the gifts they got you that you stare at them.

You want to blame your hormones.

That you would get your period soon.

Just biology.

But, honestly, you’re not sure what came over you this time. Maybe it was the compression shirt Kai was wearing. Or maybe it was the way Soobin kept pushing his hair back to show his forehead. Or maybe Yeonjun switching his earrings from hoops to studs. Or maybe Beomgyu wearing his glasses. Or maybe Taehyun wearing a crop top.

But it is definitely on you for opening your mouth and half joking, not joking to say, “I want Five Guys to fuck up my guts.”

Soobin’s head whips so fast towards you, “Huh?”

“You want fast food? I can order.” Kai unlocks his phone.

You stare Taehyun dead in the eyes, “Take your pants off.”

Beomgyu starts running around in a circle around the room as he yells “WOAH!” and Yeonjun’s ears turn bright red.

You let out a giggle, “Oh my god, that felt so good to say out loud.”

“Pants off?” Taehyun asks as he starts to pull down his sweatpants.

A beautiful pair of gray sweatpants.

Kai’s eyes go wide as his jaw drops, “Clothes? Off?”

Yeonjun panics as he frantically waves his hands to stop Taehyun from losing an article of clothing. Once he ties the strings into a triple bow for Taehyun, he sits you back down in your chair.

“Please don’t joke about things like that.”

“Why? Are you turned on?”

Yeonjun avoids eye contact as you burst out into a fit of giggles.

“I knew it! We can do a fun group activity! Get STI tested and then buy condoms!”

“CON–”

Beomgyu begins before Soobin smacks his massive hand over his mouth to shut him up.

“Me next.”

Soobin gives you a distraught look as Yeonjun and Kai kneel in front of you.

“I’ve had this dream before.”

Yeonjun face palms as Kai gently holds your hands, “Have you… drank or ate anything…?”

Insinuating if you were tipsy, drunk, or high. You wish, but you were 10000% stone cold sober.

“Nope! Just in a really good mood.”

“Is it okay if we touch you?”

“I consent wholeheartedly.”

Then, with the strength of Greek Gods and Goddesses, Yeonkai pick you up in a shared princess carry as they brought you to your bedroom. They put you on your bed as you smirk at them.

“Oh my god.” Dragging out the last syllable and bashfully covering your eyes, “Just discovered something new about myself.”

Soobin, Beomgyu, and Taehyun file into your bedroom too and close the door behind them.

“It’s great seeing you so happy on your birthday, but maybe we should have a talk.”

Taehyun helps scooch you against your headboard as he sits on your right side with Beomgyu on your left and the Yeonjun, Soobin, and Kai in front of you.

“We,” Yeonjun begins as he holds your attention, “like you a lot. We liked you in our past life and we like you in this current life.”

“I still don’t fully understand how we’re soulmates and reincarnation and everything else, but I like what we have right now. And I would still like you guys if TXT didn’t exist, and we met as strangers.”

“Our beautiful love.” Soobin comments as he caresses your face.

If you could freeze a moment and be able to replay it whenever you wanted it would definitely be this moment. The way the guys are all looking at you with such adoration in their eyes and their soft smiles.

Ugh, you could keel over and die from happiness.

“Speaking of beautiful things, who’s going to take their shirt off.”

“Serious?”

“Yeah. Honestly even a little shoulder peek would make me go rabid.”

And like an animal in a zoo when mealtime comes around, you go crazy when Beomgyu pulls Soobin’s shirt off his shoulder making Soobin shy and causes you to jump off the bed to do zoomies around the apartment. When you walk back, embarrassed at your actions, your bedroom door creeks open as you peek your head in to see the guys turn to look at but with Taehyun completely shirtless now.

You shut the door and run into your bathroom, locking the door behind you as the posters of them stare back at you mockingly. You turn the shower on to the coldest setting and start to take your clothes off.

“Are you okay?” Yeonjun calls from the other side.

“Y-yeah, just need to shower.”

“Okay, we’re going to head out and be right back.”

“Stay safe!”

You stay still as you hear their footsteps head to the front door and leave even hearing the lock click in place. Once their voices fade away, you drop to the ground to hug your knees.

You had always considered yourself funny and liked to make a bunch of inappropriate jokes, especially when you got close to people. Being comfortable around friends allowed you to let loose. Sometimes you felt like you were annoying and weren’t sure if people wanted to stick around, so you’re afraid you’ll drive them away eventually.

Getting back up to look at yourself in the mirror, you can’t help but grimace. You had some scars littering your upper thighs and stretch marks on your stomach, arms, and tits.

Letting out a sigh as you step away from the mirror to take off your bra and underwear to actually shower. The water was freezing cold, but you heard its good to calm down and it is refreshing as you quickly go through your usual showering routine. Heading back to your room with a towel wrapped around your body and another towel around your hair to be met by the guys sitting on your bed in pjs.

“Uh hey guys. What’s up?”

Taehyun holds up a stack of printed papers as you put your new glasses on to read what it says.

“All negative for any STIs.”

“And we paid for rapid results!”

You hold the towel closer to your chest as Soobin holds up a box of condoms and lube.

“Uh… could you guys leave my room for a minute so I can change.”

Kai leans back on the bed as he says, “Drop the towel.”

If there was a camera to stare into for your reaction you would. Your eyes flit from member to member to see their similar serious expressions.

“Do you want to have sex?”

They all talk over each other, but you pick up on the unanimous “yes” coming from each of them.

“But are you sure like you consent to having sex.” The guys all verbally agree as you continue, “Any one can stop if they feel uncomfortable at any time and be able to voice if they don’t like something.”

Taehyun quickly translates for Soobin, Beomgyu, and Kai as they tell you “yes”.

“Safe word is “americano”, okay?”

You snort at the choice of word but agree as you take your now dry hair out from the towel. “I would prefer to keep a shirt on, hate feet touching, slapping, and degradation.”

Yeonjun translates and then informs you, “Soobin hates his ears being touched, Beomgyu doesn’t have anything, Taehyun also doesn’t like slapping, Kai will also keep his shirt on, and I don’t like hair pulling.”

You give a thumbs up as you turn to your closet to grab an oversized shirt to put on. Taking a deep breath, you drop your towel which causes a chorus of “damn” making your face heat up as you slip the shirt on and turn around.

“Oh, shit one last thing. I, uh, have some scars on my upper thighs but I haven’t done it in a while.

Yeonjun solemnly nods his head as he motions for you to come closer.

He kisses your hand and puts it on his cheek, “We just hope you’re feeling better now.”

“Yeah, I am.” You tell him truthfully. “And last thing I promise, I haven’t shaved.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Taehyun says, “You’re pretty.”

And with that compliment from Taehyun, you take your glasses off, place them on your shelf, lean forward, kiss Yeonjun. You caught him by surprise, obviously, but a second later he starts kissing back and wraps your hands around the back of his head. You feel a figure start kissing the back of your neck and hear the rustling of clothes coming off.

Yeonjun breaks the kiss to take a gasp of air as a blur of blond hair snakes around your shoulder to start kissing you.

“Hi Hyuka.”

He stops kissing your forehead to give you a cute smile that makes you want to go into war for him. (You felt that before but now it’s on another level now that he’s right in front of you.)

“Hi princess.”

Your legs get weak a little as your eyes glaze over.

“You like that, princess?”

You feebly nod at Kai as you lean forward to kiss him. You open your mouth slightly wider to let his tongue in. He tastes like the mint mouthwash in your bathroom. You tilt your head back more to let him lead the kiss as you feel another pair of hands wander your body.

Kai leans back from kissing you and smiles at you before kissing your forehead, looking down to see Beomgyu without his glasses kneeling in front of you now and kissing your stomach over your shirt. Soobin then switches places with him, he doesn’t hesitate in putting your hands in his hair to pull his head back. You close the gap between the two of you as your lips hover above his.

“Wait.” You remember, “I have my STI results from my doctor appointment last month.”

Soobin barely lets you finish your sentence before he starts kissing and sucking on your neck.

Yeonjun whispers in your ear as he cups your tits over your shirt, “It’s okay, we know you’re negative too.”

You have to pause from gasping at Soobin’s attention, “What?”

“Your results are on your desk.” Taehyun whimpers out as he palms himself over his sweatpants on your bed.

Nodding your head as you go back to letting Soobin kiss your neck, you’re sure that you put the paper in a folder in your car, but you were negative for any STIs. Beomgyu doesn’t let you dwell on the thought anymore as he starts kissing your thighs.

“Can we, uh, go on the bed?”

Soobin trails kisses up to your face before giving one last peck before Beomgyu moves you onto the edge of the bed and kneels in front of you. Taehyun moves your head into his lap as he smiles down at you. Soobin and Yeonjun sit on both sides of Taehyun and start kissing his neck in turns as Kai stands next to Beomgyu.

You lock eyes with Beomgyu as he begins slowly moving his hands up your legs and stopping at your thighs.

“Can I?”

“Yes please.”

He spreads your legs open, licking his lips when your legs are open for him and positions himself so his arms can stop your legs from shutting. He gives you one last look before surging forward to kiss your pussy. You let out a gasp as begins licking at you moving his head in different directions to get the best reaction out of you.

As Beomgyu eats you out like you’re the last meal on earth and he’s been starving, Kai takes his pants and boxers off and begins stroking himself. You motion for him to get closer to you and grasp his dick in your hand. You haven’t seen that many dicks in real life, and the few you did see were okay, so you’re not sure if it’s because you’re insanely attracted to him or because he really is ethereal but even his dick is pretty. He’s slightly bigger than average and has good girth, you trace the veins as you stare at it.

“That feels… so good.”

“It’s going to feel better in a sec.”

You take your head off his dick and spit in your palm. When you wrap your hand back around his shaft, Kai lets out a sigh as you begin slowly stroking him.

You do your best to gradually speed up but you’re getting closer to cumming from Beomgyu eating you out, but you accidentally squeeze when Beomgyu focuses on your clit.

“Fuck, sorry, Hyuka.”

He hisses as you mediocrely continue jerking him off.

“It’s. Okay. Getting. Close.” He says as he bites his lip.

You feel the pressure building up and getting close to cumming, so you do your best to have Kai cum at the same time you do. Just as you’re about take your hand away to tangle in Beomgyu’s luscious locks Kai throws his head back as he cums all over your hand. Succumbing to your inner thoughts, you lick his cum off his hand as your other hand yanks Beomgyu’s hair to ride out your high.

“Holy shit.”

Beomgyu leans back on his heels as he smirks at you with a dark look in eyes, licking at his lips that glisten from you.

“Thanks.”

As your chest heaves and you lick the rest of Kai off your hand, you thank Beomgyu. “More like I should be thanking you. Best head I’ve ever received.”

Beomgyu gets up and walks out of your room probably to head to the bathroom to wash his mouth. Taehyun grabs your attention as his boner is poking at your cheek now. You sit up as you turn to face the guys – Yeonjun and Soobin are now fully making out and Kai is helping Taehyun take off his shirt.

“People would pay so much money to have this sight.”

Taehyun laughs at your joke as Kai tosses his shirt towards your desk chair. You can’t help but admire his body and how much effort he’s put into working out. The few pictures and teases he’s shown of his abs do him no justice to how crazy they look up close. You could wash their dirty pjs with his abs with how washboard they are.

God, if only they could read your insane thoughts.

“Okay.” You clap your hands together as they pay attention to you, “Who wants to go first to get head?”

They stare at you blankly as you feel embarrassment start to creep up.

“What’d I say?”

Beomgyu comes back with a washcloth in hand as he walks over to help you clean your thighs.

“Silly love.” He kisses your temple. “We’re ready to fuck you.”

Before you can let out a strangled noise, you let out a yelp as Taehyun knocks you down and starts kissing you. One of his hands gropes at your chest causing your mouth to open widen and allows him to explore your mouth with his tongue.

“I hope Taehyun isn’t being too rough.” Yeonjun whispers in your left ear.

You shake your head “no” as you continue making out with Taehyun having your hands roam his shirtless body. Taehyun trails a hand down to cup your pussy and tease his middle finger through your folds.

“You are so fucking hot.” He murmurs against your lips as pushes a finger inside you.

You rest your head against his shoulder as he works another finger inside you to stretch you out a little. It feels a little weird, but you haven’t had any action for a while. The most you’ve done is use your bullet vibe.

“Okay Tae, I’m ready.”

He kisses you again before sitting up, grabbing a condom, and rolling it on. Once it’s on, he squeezes out a good amount of lube on his dick and holds your legs up, positioning himself at your entrance. He sinks into you and you both lout out a moan.

“I have been dreaming about this.”

He slowly sinks into you, inch by inch until he bottoms out and slowly pulls out to repeat the process. After a few times, he switches up the pace and starts thrusting into you.

“Tae, it feels so good.”

“I know, princess. It feels so good for me too.”

Taehyun thrusts into you at a solid pace that feels amazing as Yeonjun whispers dirty thoughts into your ear.

“We’ve been wanting to do this for too long.”

“I missed hearing your moans. Like heaven to my ears.”

“You’re such a good girl.”

The mix of Taehyun speeding up his thrusts and Yeonjun’s last comment helps bring you closer to cumming yet again. You grip Taehyun’s shoulders as he continues fucking you.

“I’m close.”

Taehyun takes this as an invitation to sneak a hand down to rub your clit. Your eyes roll back at the incredible feeling as Taehyun leaves kisses on your face. It doesn’t take that much longer for you to cum and clench around him as he hisses. He fucks you through it as his hips stutter as he cums into the condom. His hand is still playing with your clit until he pulls out and your thighs shake at the overstimulation.

“God. Damn.”

You stare up at Taehyun as he grins at you and begins cleaning your body with the washcloth.

“Hope you enjoyed that.” He says as he kisses you again.

You hum in agreement as you back against your bed.

“I’m just gonna… close my eyes for a little.”

You close your eyes and before you know it, you’re fast asleep.

masterlist | previous | next

author’s note sorry y’all i have to promote safe sex even in fiction because sex health is important to me.

& again, everything is fictional!!! the depiction of sex is written specifically for fiction!! i am in no way insinuating any member of TXT acts like this because this is fiction!!!

#txt x reader #txt x you #tomorrow x together x reader #tomorrow x together x you #txt fanfic #txt smut #ot5 x reader #soobin x reader #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #yandere txt

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 months

Text

The Devil Wears Armani 3

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you’re the CEO’s new PA and you find the work too much to handle. (short!reader)

Characters: Tony Stark, this reader is known as Georgie.

—posting to the correct blog lol—

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

The appletini at girls' night does little to ease you through a restless night. You’re not a traveller. You’ve never flown before. The only reason you have a passport is it was required for the job. You didn’t expect to actually use it.

You give into consciousness around 3am and double check your bag for everything you need. You forego your usual coffee as you fear an anxious bladder adding to your addled state. You still can’t figure out why Mr. Stark told you to come along. You don’t have anything blocked into his calendar. He’s had weekend meetings before but you usually pop into zoom to take notes and nothing else.

You spare the fare for a cab as the streetcar isn’t in service yet and you don’t feel like venturing into the underground at this hour. The ride is swift in the dead streets of the city. You don’t think you’ve ever seen them so empty.

You arrive at the airport and realise you’re missing a very important piece. A boarding pass? Terminal information? Any sort of direction to find where you need to be. Well, it never hurts to ask for help even if you don’t get it.

You enter and go to the counter. The woman behind it looks tired as dark rings stain her sockets and she fixes her smile to greet you. You nervously clench your jaw and exhale through your nose.

“Hi, I... I’m supposed to be flying, er, private? I work for Tony Stark?” You creak out through your dry throat. You need water.

“Mr. Stark?” She lowers her brow, “do you have proof of employment?”

“Erm, yeah,” you unhook your keyring from your purse and shove it towards her. Your company ID is hooked onto the cluster of novelty attachments and keys.

“I need to make a call,” she says as she examines your identification.

Great.

You bob nervously on the other side of the counter as the attendant speaks quietly into the speaker. Your phone buzzes and you jingle the keys as you find it. Stark has sent you a simple message; ‘Terminal 1, tarmac. Now.’

As you peek up over the counter, the woman hangs up. “You need to head up to Terminal 1. Find an employee there, in a white shirt like mine, and show them this.” She kits a few keys and her printer grinds with great effort. She hands you a boarding pass but most of it is empty. There’s only a code at the bottom.

You thank her and head off. You scramble through security, walking through the scanner as your bag rides the conveyor through and x-ray. You retrieve your things on the other side and run off to reach Mr. Stark before he gets too impatient. He’s probably already agitated.

You check your watch. It’s only 5:01am. You’re on time, right?

You follow the signs to terminal one and find a large man standing by a ramp entrance. You approach him and show him the pass. He points you to another employee at the far end as he talks over his walkie talkie to them. You cross the tiled floor to meet the man and he beckons you towards another ramp.

You’re led down to the tarmac and left to shuffle across it on your own. You’re only told to approach big jet waiting by a tower set of stairs. There’s an attendant at the bottom who greets your brightly and you show the pass again.

“Mr. Stark is expecting you. May I take your bag?” She offers.

“No thank, I can handle it,” you nod and lift the bag off its wheels.

You climb a stair at a time and pass another attendant at the top. She directs you to leave your bag in the front carriage and you roll it behind the wall of webbing there. You turn to the ivory curtain and peek through tentatively. The movement of fabric draws Mr. Stark’s gaze from his phone.

“Get in here,” he demands, “about time, George. I was about to fall asleep.”

You push through and near him, “sir, did you need coffee?”

“They got the long-legged ones for that,” he waves away your offer with his lecherous allusion to the pretty, tall attendants. “Sit.”

You look at the chair on the other side of the table, across from him, and you hesitate. You lower yourself into the cushy seat and cross one leg over the other, your foot bouncing anxiously. You clutch your hands together and stare at Mr. Stark.

“You look tired as hell,” he cackles.

“Sir, it’s early.”

“Ah, don’t let that ruin an all-inclusive. Tell me, Georgie, a girl like you, are you jet-setting every weekend? You got billionaires flying you to the Caribbean on the reg? Didn’t think you were the popular type.”

“No, sir, I--” you try not to wince at his insinuation. You are all too aware that you’re on the bottom rung of the ladder he sits atop of. “Thank you for this. It’s very nice of you to bring me along.”

“You are very welcome,” he says smugly, “move.”

He points to the seat next to him.

“Oh, uh,” you pull your hands apart and push yourself up with the armrests, “sorry.”

He grunts, irritated, and signals with two fingers. As an attendant approaches, you sidle around the table and in front of Stark to get to the other seat. You feel a brush on your thigh but ignore it. It’s a tight squeeze.

He asks for an espresso as you lower yourself down. He reaches over and pinches the fabric of your pants, just at the top of your knee. He sniffs.

“This isn’t very Caribbean-friendly. You’re gonna sweat your tits off,” he derides.

You try not to show your embarrassment, ignoring the urge to cover your chest at his comment. Out of habit, you put on your usual attire. A cardigan, a tidy blouse, and slacks. He huffs again and tugs at the sleeve of your cardigan.

“Get rid of this,” he demands.

“Oh, uh...” You sit forward as you undo the single button and you shrug out of the wool. He swipes it away and tosses it on the floor.

The attendant returns with his espresso and gathers up your cardigan as you send her an apologetic look. Stark takes his coffee and tastes it before setting it on the table. He turns to you and clucks again. You let out a squeak as he reaches to pop the top button of your blouse, then the next. You flatten yourself to the seat helplessly.

“Better, gotta let those things breathe,” he winks and sits back with a smirk.

#tony stark #dark tony stark #dark!tony stark #tony stark x reader #the devil wears armani #series #drabble #au #bad bosses #iron man #avengers #mcu #marvel

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onceuponastory · 1 year

Text

if you believe in me - the winter soldier x reader

Part 2 of my Ghost Story AU - Read the previous part here.

Plot: Y/N and Bucky flee her grandma’s house, and with the help of Steve and Sam, soon make it back to Avengers HQ, to safety. And there, Y/N learns the truth. Pairing: The Winter Soldier/Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Warnings: Mentions of death, violence/abuse, trauma, blood, pain, torture, brainwashing, weapons, and everything Bucky did as the Winter Soldier, and had done to him by HYDRA. Please use your own discretion. As always if I miss any triggers, let me know. Notes: This is the very requested part two to my fic Ghost Story, so please read that first if you haven’t already. Thank you for loving this story so much and for wanting to see more! Not beta’d, so any mistakes are my own.

“Ready?” Bucky smiles. And without even thinking about it, Y/N nods. Even though they've only known each other for about a week, she’d follow him anywhere.

“Okay. We’ll get the jet sorted. Wheels up in less than two hours. We’ll be back at HQ by tomorrow morning.” Sam explains. And then, Y/N and Bucky are alone again.

“How are you feeling about all this?” She asks, and Bucky raises a brow.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? You’re the one who’s had your whole life upended for the second time already. Sorry about that, by the way.” Y/N shrugs.

“Bucky.” She soothes. “You don’t have to be sorry. I understand why you did it. You were terrified of going back to HYDRA and thought I posed a threat. You were just trying to protect yourself.” Bucky nods. But he still feels awful about scaring her so badly, and making her think for even a second that her life was in jeopardy. At least now he knows that Y/N could never hurt him. Honestly, he doesn’t think she has an evil bone in her body. Not like him, with all the blood he has on his hands. No matter how much he tries to repent, that blood will still be there. He’s always going to be the Winter Soldier. A murderer. “Well, your life has completely changed in less than an hour. You’re going home with your friends who love and care about you. It’s probably a lot to take in.” Y/N continues. And she’s right. Honestly, Bucky feels like he just got his old life back, handed to him on a silver platter. Or at least, he’s on the steps to it. “I’m glad you’ve got it back, Bucky.” She’s so kind. Even when he knows he doesn’t deserve it. Honestly, he’s not quite ready to live this new life yet. At least, not without Y/N. She’s a big part of his life now, too.

Yet, he notices that there’s something troubling her.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing.” He can tell that she doesn’t want to take away from his happy moment with his friends by talking about her problems. But Bucky wants her to know how incredibly grateful he is to her, and that she means a lot to him. And that includes her feelings and her worries.

He doesn’t know what angel was looking down on him the day he found Y/N’s grandmother’s house, but he’s so glad that they were. After all, if it wasn’t for Y/N, he wouldn’t have his life back. She saved his life.

“Y/N. It’s okay. Just tell me the truth. We’ve been through a lot already, remember?” He points out, and Y/N chuckles. Some may find it strange that they’re laughing about everything they’ve been through, but he already feels close enough to her to do so. And that’s why he’s even more glad that she’s coming with them.

“I just.” She sighs, still clearly unwilling to admit her feelings. Yet, when Bucky prompts her further, she explains. “I feel weird about leaving all my grandmother’s stuff here. It’s the main reason I came here after all. What if you’re right, and HYDRA comes looking for us? I don’t want it being destroyed. That's all I have left of her.” Bucky nods. He understands her worries, of course. If there was anything that reminded him of his past, he’d want to keep it safe too. He just wishes there was something to remind him of his old life, when he was still Bucky Barnes, not the Winter Soldier. But since he can’t do that, the least he can do is help Y/N keep her grandmother’s memory alive.

“Well, how about you bring a few things with you, and I’ll help you put some stuff away and hide it? And once this is all done, I promise that we’ll come back and get her stuff. Whatever you want, and whatever you need. Just us two.” Y/N nods, smiling softly. Although that’s all she wants, she knows that Bucky’s just trying to keep her morale up. Honestly, she’s not holding out much hope for her grandmother’s things if HYDRA does come knocking, whether they’re hidden or not. Ideally, she’d stay here, keeping them safe whilst trying to live as normal a life as possible. She knows there’s no way Bucky can promise something like that.

Yet, she appreciates Bucky’s effort to cheer her up all the same. Because she knows the alternative is much worse than what he’s proposing. And besides, she knows that when it comes down to it, her life is worth more than some photographs. And of course, her grandma would’ve wanted her to stay alive too. “Just us two.” Bucky’s voice echoes in her mind. Deep down, she hopes that will be their future. Her and Bucky, just like it was before.

“Okay.” She nods. “That sounds good.”

Despite the cramped jet, Y/N is glad to be on the way to safety. Or at least, what she hopes is safety. During the ride, there is mostly silence with the occasional bit of small talk here and there. But Y/N is glad to be sitting in silence. Being in such close proximity to Captain America and the Falcon is making her heart race already, let alone the thought of making small talk with them. Y/N looks at the lights below as the sky darkens, once again realising how different her life has become since going through everything with Bucky. She’ll never be able to return to a normal life after this. Whatever ‘normal’ is now. What if HYDRA hunts them down for the rest of their lives? What if she can never go home again? …Wherever her home is now, that is.

But despite that, she’s glad that she and Bucky have been brought closer together. They’ve really made a connection, despite how they met. And at least she’s going through this new and unfamiliar experience with him. After all, she trusts him.

Some time later, Bucky glances over, checking on Y/N. She’s asleep, softly snoring as her chest slowly rises and falls. He smiles, watching her for a little while. It reminds him of the night she took care of him, cleaned his wounds, and made him some food. That night was the night everything changed, and he started to see Y/N in a new light, as a carer rather than a danger to him. Maybe, Bucky thinks, he was wrong. When he said an angel was looking down on him when he found Y/N’s grandma’s house… maybe Y/N was the angel all along, sent to show him that there’s still good in the world after everything he went through.

The morning after, he had woken up feeling more refreshed than he ever had before. And then, he noticed Y/N fast asleep in the armchair beside him. Without even thinking about it, he had wrapped a blanket around her. Even thought it was a small gesture, it was the least he could do after all she had done for him. After that, he didn’t even focus on his mission, or make sure that HYDRA wasn’t tracking them. He just watched her. Making sure she was okay. She seemed so at peace, compared to the first time they met. As the sun rose and its golden glow shone on her face, Bucky registered his heart beating ever so slightly faster. And this time, it wasn’t because of fear. He’s started to get that feeling a lot more, he’s realised. At least, whenever Y/N is around.

But before he has time to dwell too much on that feeling, Steve interrupts with a “We’ll be there in about an hour.” Sighing, Bucky nods, and his stomach begins to churn. God knows what awaits him when they land, when he’s brought back in front of the Avengers after killing so many innocent civilians. Of course, Steve and Sam reassured him they would stand by him and explain that it wasn’t his fault, but Bucky knows it won’t make much difference. Controlled or not, he still did it. He looks back over at Y/N, still fast asleep and completely unaware of just how deep this goes… and all the violence that Bucky is capable of.

Ideally, she’d never know, because Bucky doesn’t want Y/N to be afraid ever again, especially not of him. He doesn’t want to lose her, either. She’s done so much good for him, more than he could ever deserve, and he’ll protect her from everything bad in the world.

Even him.

Avengers HQ, Y/N soon learns, is a lot bigger than she expected. As soon as they arrive, someone takes Steve and Sam away for questioning. And with that, she's also reminded of just how unimportant she is compared to her companions. An innocent civilian who had her life turned upside down overnight, someone who doesn’t fit in this life full of superheroes and secret agents. As people mill about the building, looking at her curiously, she wonders what they’re thinking, and what’s going to happen to her.

“Are they going to want to question me, too?” Bucky shrugs.

“Maybe. Steve and Sam are the Avengers, so they’re the ones who are in high demand right now.” But before Y/N can say much else, a group of guards suddenly swarms the pair. Two of them grab Bucky’s arms.

“Sir, come with us.” One of them orders.

“Wait, what’s going on?!” Y/N calls, trying to jump in and stop them. Steve and Sam hear her cries and come rushing. Yet, the guards ignore her and start dragging Bucky away. And the whole time, Bucky doesn’t fight it. Instead, he gazes back at Y/N sadly. And then, he just lets them take him. “Bucky!” Y/N calls after him. She tries to go after him, to make sure that he’s alright… but a guard angrily gets in her face.

“Ma’am. Move back, or we will make you move.” He snaps, the heat of his breath against her skin making her flinch.

“But-” Yet, before she can plead Bucky’s case any further, Steve steps in, gently pulling her back.

“I understand, sir. I-I’m sorry.” Y/N tries to wriggle out of his grasp, to run after Bucky down the hallway, but Steve’s firm grasp on her arm stops her.

“Steve, where are they taking him?!” she demands. Steve sighs, his shoulders slumping. For a moment, the first time she met Steve flashes in her mind. His tall, confident pose, the image of a hero. Now, he looks the complete opposite. He can’t even look her in the eyes.

“He’s going into a holding cell, Y/N.”

“Why is he in a cell? Have they taken him into custody?” When she sees the nervous glance Steve and Sam give each other, her brow raises.

“It’s just a precaution.”

“For what?! Sure, he scared me at first, but he did nothing to hurt me. He’s not dangerous.” She insists. “I can go explain to them, Steve. Just let me go!” Yet, both of them are still quiet. And Y/N feels her stomach drop. “Guys…what’s going on?” Steve sighs, releasing her arm and running a hand through his hair.

“There’s something you should know about Bucky.”

The pair sit her down first, making sure she’s comfortable. Despite knowing their actions are coming from a place of kindness, they only make her more nervous. Whatever they’re about to tell her, it can’t be good. And then, slowly, they explain everything that Bucky did whilst under HYDRA’s control. All the blood that stains his hands, and all the lives he’s destroyed. Even everything he tried to do to Steve and Sam before Steve managed to get through to him. Y/N sits there, silent as she takes everything in.

“He told me about HYDRA, and what they did to him. Why didn’t he tell me about this?” She gasps, suddenly grateful to be sitting down. If she hadn’t have been, she swears she may have collapsed.

“He probably didn’t want you being even more frightened, especially after he already pointed a gun at you.” Y/N takes a few breaths to calm herself down, her heartbeat racing. Although she knows she has no right to demand more information about Bucky’s trauma, she would’ve rather heard this from him, on his terms, instead of after he’s been dragged down a hallway by armed guards like some sort of animal.

“B-But it wasn’t him, was it? At least, he wasn’t in the right state of mind. He told me they wiped his memory, so they must’ve done something to make him like this, right?!” she demands, not even realising how shaky her voice is. Sure, they got off on the wrong foot at first, to put it lightly, but Bucky has been so kind to her. The idea that someone like that could be responsible for something like this….

And then, she remembers their first meeting, and the gun pointed directly in her face. At first, she put it down to how terrified Bucky must’ve been to hear her walking into the room, and when she learnt just what he’s been through, that confirmed it for her. All this time, she assumed he thought she was a HYDRA agent, but stopped when he realised she was just a civilian. Now, she sees it in a new light. He really was about to kill her, after all. She was a witness to him, and he was told that witnesses need to be silenced. After all, he silenced everyone else.

No wonder she thought he looked like some kind of super trained assassin. He’s been one this whole time.

“We don’t know the full extent of what HYDRA did to him, but now we know that yes… they brainwashed him, and manipulated him into doing it. It wasn’t Bucky’s choice.” Sam confirms. Y/N nods. That makes her feel a little better about the situation, but it still doesn’t help calm her. The same fears she had when she first met Bucky, about how she was going to die and wondering just what sort of monster she was suddenly sharing her grandmother’s house with, now rear their ugly heads once more. She tries to push them down, to picture the memories she has with Bucky now. Smiling, laughing, happy times.

He’s not dangerous. He can’t be. She saw the way he looked at the world, and at her.

“The three of us know Bucky’s not dangerous, but in the eyes of the law, he is. He killed a lot of agents too, not just civilians. So for now, he has to be treated as such.” Steve adds. Y/N doesn’t respond.

She could’ve died.

She should be dead.

But something stopped him. Somehow, she got spared.

“Look, it’s been a long day. How about we get you some food, and find a place to-”

“Why didn’t he kill me?” She asks, cutting him off. When neither of them replies, she continues. “You said it yourself. HYDRA sent him out to kill their detractors and told him not to leave any witnesses. I’m a witness. Fuck, I surprised him in his safe hiding place. He could have shot me right away without a second thought, but he didn’t.” Her voice gets louder and louder as she speaks, almost yelling.

“We don’t know either.” Steve shrugs. “Hell, I’m his oldest friend and he still tried to kill me at first, even when I told him who I was. Maybe his brainwashing was fading, and he felt safe around you. Or maybe he took pity on you.”

“You took care of him, too.” Sam points out. “That probably helped him not see you as a threat.”

Despite nodding her head in agreement with their explanations, Y/N still can’t understand why she was spared while others weren't. Sure, perhaps Bucky’s brainwashing was wearing off, and that’s why he took pity on her, but given what she’s heard about him and what he’s capable of, she’s still surprised that she survived their first encounter completely unscathed without so much as a bruise. Maybe there’s more to it, another reason she could bring him back and convince him to let her live where others failed.

And she wants to know what it is.

A few moments later, a woman approaches the trio. Her brunette hair is tied in a pristine bun, and her eyes pass over the three of them. When she reaches Y/N, her brow quirks. Y/N gulps. Here it comes. Is she going to be hauled into an interrogation room? Or arrested for knowing too much about all of this? She could make a break for it, but she’s already seen the weapons their guards carry, and she definitely does not want to be on the receiving end of them.

“Maria. Nice to see you again.” Steve chuckles. She doesn’t laugh.

“Fury wants to see you in his office. Immediately.” She states. Judging from her stance, Y/N can tell she’s important, and that she means business. In other words, do not get on her bad side. As Steve and Sam start walking, Maria raises her brow again, glancing over at Y/N. “You too.” She beckons. Quickly, Y/N follows behind them, murmuring a ‘sorry’ to Maria.

The office is pristine, and full of tech that Y/N could only ever dream of affording. God, she definitely does not fit into this life. A figure stands at the front of the room.

“Rogers. Wilson.” He speaks, and both nod. And then, the man notices her. “You must be Y/N Y/L/N.” Y/N’s brow furrows.

“How do you-”

“I know everything there is to know.” The man replies. “I’m Director Nick Fury. I’ve heard a lot about you, and how you helped Barnes.” Still surprised, Y/N nods. Guess she has to get used to people knowing every little detail about her life now. And if the Avengers know every aspect about her life, that means HYDRA will too, if they’re looking for her. Because that’s not terrifying at all.

“I did. So, what happens now?”

“Well, we have to monitor him for a while until we’re sure he’s not a threat. I assume Rogers and Wilson told you about the Winter Soldier?” She nods again, too afraid of saying the wrong thing. “Good. As for you, you’ll be moved into a safe house until things are under control. We’ll put agents around you to make sure nothing happens.” When she blinks in surprise, Nick’s brows furrow. “Is there a problem with that?”

“Not at all, it’s just….” She sighs. “I wasn’t expecting all this. Honestly, I didn’t realise I was worth the trouble.” She chuckles awkwardly. Nobody else laughs. When she first came here, Y/N didn't know what she expected. But it definitely wasn’t this, to have so many people trying to protect her of all people.

“Well, there isn’t much choice. You’re not an Avenger, so you can’t stay in the compound with the others.” The casual nature of his tone surprises her. As if her staying with Iron Man, Captain America, the Falcon and their friends was ever a possibility. “But you are a witness, and you’re interlinked with Barnes’ life now, arguably just as much as these two.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far-”

“To HYDRA, that makes you incredibly valuable. They want to get their soldier back, and they won’t hesitate to go after his friends to get him. And that includes you.” He insists, cutting her off. Her cheeks heat up slightly at being called Bucky’s friend. She never saw herself as that. Bucky was just a guy she was sharing her life with, and they slowly got closer to one another. Yet, after how close they’ve become, and how she followed him here with little prompting, he’s right. Obviously, part of her decision making was because she didn’t want to have to fend off a mass of HYDRA agents on her own, but the majority of it was because she didn’t want to leave Bucky. It feels like their time together has only just begun, and she wants to stay and help him with his healing journey as much as she can. Honestly, calling Bucky her friend feels right. “Understand?” Nick asks.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

As Fury continues to explain the situation and where she’ll be staying, Y/N’s mind goes back to Bucky. God knows where he is. Hopefully somewhere safe, where he can heal. What if he gets hurt? Or he gets shoved in jail and she never sees him again?

“Any questions?” Y/N takes a breath, unsure of how this is going to go. But it’s all she cares about.

“Can I see him?”

Downstairs, Bucky sits in his cell, strapped in as much and as tightly as possible for everyone’s safety. He doesn’t even know how long it’s been since they brought him here, since he saw Steve, Sam…and Y/N. Although he knows that they’re safe now, and he’s going to get what he deserves, he wishes he was back at her grandma’s house with her. Just the two of them. Sure, HYDRA was probably hunting them down, and they likely still are, but at least they were both happy together. He would have fought tooth and nail to protect her. He would fight tooth and nail to protect her.

So why didn’t he stay there, with her?

Why didn’t he fight for her?

Groaning, Bucky tries to readjust himself into a more comfortable position. Although, considering both his hands are shackled, that’s easier said than done. The metal handcuff digs uncomfortably into his skin, and he hisses in pain. Of course, he knew that after what he did, he wouldn’t be allowed to move around freely, or be entitled to any comfort. His time as an assassin is finally catching up to him.

Right on time, he registers the guard outside murmuring something to his colleague, and then they glance back at his cell. Bucky can only pick up a few words from their conversation, but he can tell what sort of things they’re saying from the way they look at him. Although he can’t say that he’s surprised. Who would be okay with being forced to watch over an assassin 24/7? Even though he escaped HYDRA’s grasp and is slowly starting to remember who he is, there’s no way anyone is going to trust him ever again, or see him as anything but a monster.

And even though he isn’t surprised by their judgemental looks, it still fucking hurts to be stripped of your identity over and over, tortured and brainwashed just for someone’s sick fantasy. And even after escaping all that pain, he’s forever tainted by something he never wanted to do. Something that wasn’t his fault, while the people who did this to him escaped or were killed before they could be brought to trial. Despite the things he did, Bucky’s a victim too… and yet, he seems to be the only one being punished.

Frustrated, hot tears stinging at his eyes, Bucky closes his eyes, hoping he can at least imagine something better, more comfortable. And then… he remembers the softness of Y/N’s grandma’s couch. After so long running, he could finally sleep, and it was the best damn sleep of his entire life. Until Y/N woke him up, that is. Y/N. Where is she now? Hopefully, she’s safe. Even though he knows and hates how everyone is going to see him as a monster now… all he cares about is what Y/N thinks of him. Although they only met a week ago, somehow, she means more to him than anything in the world. Even thinking about her and her smile makes him feel a little better.

Then, a memory of them both replays in his mind.

“You want some music?” She asks, sorting through some records and tapes. “My grandma was a huge fan of all different genres, so we have plenty of choices.” She chuckles. Bucky doesn’t reply, transfixed by the sheer number of records in front of him. Some names trigger some recognition in his brain, but nothing too intense. He peers down at the ones in front of them, reading the names aloud.

“The Rolling Stones, Pink Floyd, The Beatles….”

“If you see anything you want to play, just tell me. Your choice.”

“I’m sorry Y/N… I-I don’t know any of these.” He sighs, disappointed by his inability to choose something.

“Hey, it’s okay.” She reassures him, placing her hand on his forearm reassuringly.

Even now, Bucky remembers how that touch felt. The comfort and the support behind it. He misses that warm touch more than anything.

“I have an idea.” She smiles, picking up a record and putting it on the player. “My grandma loved this one, and I think you’ll like it too.” Soon, the vocals of Ella Fitzgerald begin to play, and recognition dawns on Bucky’s face.

“W-Wait! I remember her voice.” He furrows his brow, listening closer. “I think I remember this song, too.” Y/N grins.

He remembers Y/N’s smile too. As bright as the sunshine. And despite how cold and alone he feels right now… that smile still makes him feel as warm and comfortable as he did the first time he saw it. “Say it's only a paper moon, sailing over a cardboard sea.” Bucky sings to himself softly. “But it wouldn't be make believe, if you believed in me.”

And he does have someone to believe in him. Y/N. Even after everything he did, she still treated him with kindness, and saw him as more than he was. He just wishes he saw himself that way, too.

The door to Bucky’s cell opens. Closing his eyes, Bucky braces himself, waiting for whatever’s in store for him. After being under HYDRA’s control for so long, he’s almost expecting the same abuse that he suffered at the hands of his superiors. Yet, when he opens his eyes again, focusing on the figure that just entered the room, his eyes widen.

“Y/N? W-What the hell are you doing here?”

“Oh, my god… Bucky.” She gasps, taking in the sight in front of her. And how tightly they have strapped Bucky in. When he sees the look of guilt and shame on her face, Bucky’s heart sinks. Although Y/N believes in him, he hates that she has to see him like this, like some sort of caged animal.

“Y/N. You shouldn’t be here. You need to leave.” He tells her, but she ignores him.

“Why have they strapped you in so tightly? You’re not dangerous, and you’re not going to hurt anyone. Steve and Sam told me it wasn’t your fault.”

“We can’t take that risk. After my past, they want to make sure they know everything about me and what I’m capable of first. And then…” He pauses, as the full weight of the situation dawns once again. “They’ll decide what to do, and how to punish me.”

“Is there going to be a trial?” She asks. “I-I’ll testify. Say that you aren’t dangerous.”

“Y/N-”

“If they had just seen the way you looked at me, or how we laughed-”

“That’s not going to be enough!” He insists, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. Sighing, Bucky clears his throat. “We still don’t know the risks, and the last thing I want is you getting hurt. So, you should go.”

“It is! It is enough! And I know you’re not dangerous.” She exclaims, tears falling down her cheeks. “I know that because you spared me, despite all your training and the things you’ve done before. For some reason, you didn’t kill me.” She’s right. After all the victims he’s had, Y/N is the only one where he let them go free. And he still doesn’t know why. But despite that, he knows that isn’t going to do much to help his case. One victim spared, compared to the thousands he killed, is purely a drop in the ocean.

“Y/N.” Bucky sighs. “I appreciate the offer, but really… it’s not worth it.” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “It may not have been my choice, but I still did it. And I deserve whatever I’m about to get.”

“You promised me, remember? That we’d be back in my grandma’s house again, listening to music or going through old pictures. Just the two of us.” Bucky’s stomach twists. “I’m not giving up on you.” She tells him, and something deep in Bucky’s stomach flutters. “We may not know why you spared me, but there has to be a reason. And I’m going to find it. Because it proves that you’re not the monster everyone thinks you are.” Stepping closer, she places her palm against the glass. Bucky’s arm twitches, almost as if he was about to place his hand on the opposite side, over hers. “We’ll get through this. I’m not giving up on you.” She repeats, and Bucky can’t keep a smile from growing on his face.

Say it's only a paper moon, sailing over a cardboard sea.

But it wouldn't be make believe, if you believed in me.

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